Since he did his best to seem mysterious and faintly menacing, her words shouldn't have stung, but they did.

He said acerbically, "The fact that I haven't turned you over to a magistrate should give you some reason to trust me."

"That's frail evidence since the nearest magistrate is Lord Chiswick," she said sweetly. "As you yourself said, he would not welcome interruptions in the middle of an orgy."

Lucien almost laughed out loud. Now that Jane's initial fright had passed, she was formidably self-possessed. Perhaps she would trust him more if he found a solution to her problem. "You mentioned a guardian. I assume that you are over twenty-one, but what about your brother?"

"He'll be twenty-one in February."

Lucien gave a satisfied nod. "Excellent. Since James wasn't of legal age when he contracted the debt, Captain Sharp can't collect a single farthing from him."

Her eyes widened as hope warred with doubt. "How can that be? Young men often run up gambling debts."

"For honor's sake most youths will pay off their debts if they can. But they can't be legally compelled to do so. In a case like this, where your brother believes he was cheated, Captain Sharp is hardly likely to pursue the matter with your guardian," Lucien replied. "It was foolish of him to waste time on a boy who was under twenty-one."

"He might not have realized. James looks older than twenty, and he has been in the army since he was seventeen." She dropped onto the edge of the bed, her expression stunned. "It never occurred to me that legally he is not yet considered a man."

"I suggest that you get a lawyer with long, sharp teeth to write to Captain Sharp, repudiating the debt. I can give you several names if you don't know who to go to."

"That won't be necessary; I know someone who will do." She gave him a dazzling smile. "To think that I've been sneaking around making a fool of myself when there was no real problem."

"But if you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you, and that would have been a great pity," Lucien said softly.

Their gazes met and a primitive, powerful awareness pulsed between them-male and female admiring each other and wanting to be closer. Jane swallowed hard, her throat going taut, and he knew that she was uncomfortable with her attraction to him. Her eyes held the alarmed fascination of a nervous virgin.

"I must be leaving." She got to her feet and almost stepped on one of the mechanical devices that had fallen to the floor earlier. She knelt and began gathering the scattered toys. "I'm sorry for dropping these. I hope none are damaged."

He came and knelt beside her to help. Their fingers brushed as they both reached for a small black-and-silver penguin. In the instant of contact, he felt a tremor in her hand.

She said quickly, "What does this creature do?"

He took the mechanical penguin and wound the key, then set it on the floor. With a low whirring sound the little creature bent forward, then suddenly flipped backward in a perfect somersault. As it landed on its broad webbed feet, Jane gasped, "I don't believe it!"

Even as she spoke, the penguin did another back flip, then another. Jane sat back on her heels, laughing so hard that she pressed one hand to her midriff. She looked like someone who had not laughed for too long. It made Lucien happy to watch her.

In the last few minutes she had been a frightened innocent, a sensual nymph, and a cool-eyed opponent. Now she was a joyous child. He guessed that all of those facets of her were genuine, but were any of them the deepest, most essential woman? She was a fascinating puzzle, one he meant to solve.

Tears of amusement in her eyes, she asked, "Where did you get this?"

"I designed it and built the jumping mechanism. It's going to be a christening gift for the child of a friend of mine."

Kit picked up the toy and regarded it thoughtfully. "You have unexpected talents, Lord Strathmore. Why a penguin?"

"My friend has a dozen of them on his estate. Probably the only penguins in Great Britain. They're delightful to watch."

She supposed it made sense that Strathmore would have friends as unusual as he was himself. She picked up another of the toys, a rabbit in formal court wear who sat on a chair playing a violoncello. She wound the key and the rabbit began sawing the bow back and forth while a tune tinkled inside the figure. "Charming. Did you make this one also?"

"No, it's French. A friend found it for me in Vienna." He examined the rabbit, then carefully straightened one ear. "This fellow got a bit bent when he hit the floor."

She smiled at Strathmore's concentration. He did not look menacing. Yet even though he had treated her with courtesy-chivalry, in fact-he alarmed her. He was a man of mysterious depths, and she sensed that ruthlessness was as much a part of his nature as charm.

She lifted the last of the toys, wrapped it in one of the squares of velvet that had fallen from the box, and packed it with its fellows. Then she got to her feet and returned the box to the linen drawer. Apparently there was still quite a bit of Emmie the chambermaid in her. Having tidied up, she said, "Good night, Lord Strathmore. I can't thank you enough for your help."

He had also risen and was studying her face with uncomfortable perception. She wondered uneasily if he suspected that she had been lying through her teeth about her mythical brother and his gambling debt.

"I want to see you again," he said quietly.

His words were more startling than an accusation would have been. Her heart jumped, partly from fear, more because of the shocking knowledge that she also would like to see him. After reminding herself of all the reasons why she couldn't, she said calmly, "That isn't feasible, my lord."

His brows arched, making him look more than ever like Lucifer. "Why not?"

"Because I will not be your mistress, and there is no other possible relationship between us."

Amusement gleamed in his eyes, making them seem more gold than green. "You accuse me unjustly. I haven't made an improper suggestion since I found out that you weren't really a whore. Why can't we be friends?"

It had been easier to deal with the Hellions who merely assaulted her body. She took an unobtrusive step backward.

"Friendship between men and women is rare at the best of times, and nonexistent between those of unequal station. I don't move in the same circles you do, my lord, so we cannot be friends."

"Nonsense," he replied, undeterred. "You're obviously of good birth, and while, as you pointed out, my reputation is hardly pristine, I'm still considered socially acceptable. Let me know where to find you, and I will arrange as proper an introduction as anyone could want."

Deciding to take the offensive, she asked bluntly, "What do you want of me, Lord Strathmore?"

"I honestly don't know," he said slowly. "But I intend to find out."

"Prepare yourself for disappointment." She walked around him and headed toward the door. "Unless you are going to hold me prisoner, I will leave now."

"Wait," he ordered.

She stopped, nerves jumping, knowing that she was entirely at his mercy.

To her relief, he said only. "I'll take you downstairs. It wouldn't be safe for you to go alone."

He was right, she silently acknowledged. It was too late to search any more rooms. By this time the first stage of the orgy must be over, and those of the Hellions who could still walk would be heading for the comfort of their own chambers. One of them might be in the mood for a new bedmate.

"Very well," she agreed. "I came in through the library and left the door open so I could leave the same way."

He untied his cravat and tossed it aside, then peeled off his coat. As he started undoing the buttons at the throat of his shirt, he saw her alarmed expression and interpreted it accurately. "We must look as if we have been improperly engaged," he explained, a smile lurking in his eyes.

With his blond hair tousled and his shirt falling open to reveal his broad chest, he was the very portrait of a rake, the kind of man no woman could resist. And he knew how he affected her, damn him. Alone together in this room, both in dishabille, there was almost as much intimacy as if they were lovers in truth.

He surveyed her critically. "You need to look more debauched." He pulled down one of her sleeves. Since the back of her bodice was still untied, the fabric slid easily, exposing her left shoulder. When his fingers skimmed her bare flesh she almost jumped out of her skin.

Feeling her reaction, he hesitated, as if tempted to turn his attempt at camouflage into a caress. The moment hung suspended between them.

Finally, to her relief, he moved away and opened the door. After scanning the hall, he draped an arm around her shoulders and steered her out.

Voices sounded downstairs, but there no one was in sight. Getting into the spirit, she wrapped an arm around his lean waist and tried to look like a satisfied doxy. It was easy to act the part when his warm body was twined around hers. His closeness fueled the fire that had been kindled by his earlier kiss.

Grimly she reminded herself that she only had to hang on to the rags of her composure for a few more minutes. Then she would be free of her alarming companion.

On the ground floor they passed one of the Hellions with a half-naked woman supporting him as the couple headed for the stairs. In the dim light, she had no idea who the man was. A wavering tenor and soprano duet sounded from the drawing room as they passed, singing a song that Kit guessed would be horribly embarrassing if she understood what all of the words meant. But as Strathmore had predicted, she was safe with him. At least, safe from other men; the earl himself was another matter.