"You will explain that exhibition you just put on for the benefit of my guests," he said.

"I needed air, my lord," she replied defiantly.

"Don't lie to me, ma'am," he snapped. "It was for my benefit, was it not? Your revenge for what you consider to be tyrannical treatment?"

"Yes," she said, a light of triumph in her eyes. "You insisted, my lord, against my wishes, that I meet the ton. Well, tonight the ton met me. Me!" She pointed to herself emphatically. "If people are to meet me, they must know that there is more to me than black hair and dark eyes and clothes that Madame de Valery has made as flattering as she can. They must know that there is more to me than a name and a comfortable dowry. They must know that I have two legs, just like them, but that one is shorter than the other. I showed them what you had so carefully tried to conceal."

"Fool!" he said through his teeth. "Do you expect that any man will wish to ally himself with you now that you have shown such shocking lack of taste? I have been working for your own interests, trying to find you a husband. You seem bent on alienating everyone who is anyone."

"Do you think I would care for any husband who was tricked into offering for me?" she cried. "Do you think the only purpose of a woman's life is to find herself a husband? If I ever marry, my lord, it will be to a man who loves me just as I am, limp and all, to a man who will not care that much"-she snapped her fingers above her head-"for the fact that I cannot walk elegantly or dance."

"Love!" he said, throwing a world of scorn into the word. "Have you been living with your head in the clouds all those years in the country? Here you will learn that marriages are alliances, carefully made for the advantage of both parties. And who would wish to ally himself to a woman who can so brazenly make herself the laughingstock in public?"

"Then let me go home," she said, "where I may dream of love if I wish and you can forget about alliances."

"Home!" he mocked. "Is that what this is all about? Have you been hoping that I will pack you off back to the country? You can forget that, my dear. Raymore Manor is my home. Do you think I wish to encounter you there every time I decide to visit?" The words were meant to be brutal and had their effect.

"Then I shall stay," she spat out at him, "and you may find me a husband if you can. But from now on, my lord, your prospective buyers must see me. Bring them here to the house and I shall strut up and down the drawing room for them. If any man can tolerate what he sees, he may make you his offer."

Her voice had risen to near-hysterical pitch. She held her arms out to the sides and demonstrated the strut she had described. She greatly exaggerated her limp as she walked the length of the library and turned to walk back again.

"Stop it!" he hissed.

She looked across at him haughtily and continued to move. "Can you not see me walking down the aisle of St. George's, Hanover Square, toward my bridegroom, my lord?" she goaded. "On your arm?"

"Stop it!" he repeated. When she continued to prance past him, he strode across to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Stop it, do you hear me?"

"Perhaps you would like to offer for me yourself, Edward," she said, her voice becoming even more shrill. "You spend little enough time at home and would not have to look at me often. I might be prevailed upon to accept, you know. You are handsome enough." She smiled dazzlingly and tried to whisk herself away.

"Stop this, Rosalind," he ordered again, pulling her against his chest. "Enough!"

And because indeed she had no more to say, Rosalind did stop. They glared at each other for a few seconds, both breathing hard, and then inexplicably his mouth was on hers, pressing her lips against her teeth quite mercilessly.

They both jerked away almost immediately and gazed with something like horror into each other's eyes. There seemed no sensible reason why a moment later they were kissing again. This time his mouth came down across hers open, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world, when his tongue pressed insistently against her lips, to open her mouth to receive it. Heat flared between them as his arms drew her closer and as she molded her body to his, thighs, hips, breasts straining for closer contact.

His hands moved around to explore her breasts as his tongue stroked the warm recesses of her mouth. Her hands twined into his thick hair as she moved against his hands. They were both in the grip of raw desire.

It was Raymore who finally succeeded in pulling his mind free of his physical passion. He grasped her arms and put her from him as if she were a deadly snake. He watched her heavy-lidded eyes resume normal consciousness.

"So!" he said, imposing iron control on his voice. "It is now crystal-clear how you have occupied your time in the country, ma'am, and why you wish to return there. How many lovers have you had to roll you in the hay?" The usual ice had returned to his eyes and his voice. "It was nicely done. Did you think to bend me to your will by offering me your body when your defiance had failed? You forget, Rosalind, that your body disgusts me,"

Rosalind felt unexpectedly calm. "I hate you," she said quite dispassionately. "I did not expect ever to dislike anyone as much as I do you. No one else matters in your life except the Earl of Raymore, am I not right? You were born with a heart of stone, my lord, and are totally incapable of feeling the finer emotions. Love, kindness, compassion: they must be just words to you. You think you can hurt me by making cruel references to my physical appearance? You are far more crippled than I will ever be, Edward. You do not have the power to wound me,"

She turned and walked from the room with as much dignity as her limp would allow. She went immediately to her room, undressed without the aid of her dresser, and climbed into the big four-poster bed.

Chapter 5

Most of the flowers and decorations that had adorned the hallways, staircase, and ballroom of the Earl of Raymore's home had been removed by midmorning of the following day. But they were soon replaced by the countless bouquets that began arriving before luncheon. Most of them were from gentlemen who had danced with Sylvia. Two were for Rosalind: one bouquet of pink and white carnations from Sir Rowland Axby and one of red roses from Sir Bernard Crawleigh.

Sylvia danced into her cousin's room at noon and pulled back the heavy curtains from the windows to let in the sunlight. "Oh, do wake up, sleepyhead," she begged. "I am simply longing to talk to you about last night, Ros."

Rosalind groaned. She had not fallen asleep until long after daylight came, and even before conscious memory returned, she knew that she did not want to wake up.

"Was it not a perfectly splendid evening?" Sylvia gushed. "All the ladies so friendly, Ros, and the gentlemen!"

Rosalind knew from experience that there was no fighting such high spirits. She pushed herself up to a sitting position on the bed. "And with which of them have you fallen in love?" she asked.

"Oh, I really do not know," Sylvia replied seriously. "Mr. Hammond is very handsome and charming, but do you think he smiles too much, Ros? Lord Standen is very grand. I believe Cousin Edward favors him. He is quite distinguished-looking, too, and very elegant. Perhaps if I met him a few more times, I should be as comfortable with him as I was with his brother, Mr. Broome. Of course, I had not met him before, either, but perhaps he is more easy in his manners because he is not a lord and does not have an air of such consequence."

"Ah," said Rosalind, "I did not notice that young man. Is he also handsome?"

"Oh no," Sylvia said candidly, "not at all. Pleasant-looking, perhaps. Ros, you should see all the flower decorations downstairs. Some from gentlemen I cannot even remember! You must come and see. There are some for you, too."

"Indeed!" her cousin replied dryly. "I cannot imagine who would want to remember me after last night."

"That perfectly gorgeous man we met at the theater is one of them," Sylvia said.

"Sir Bernard Crawleigh?"

"Yes, him. Oh, Ros, he is the one you walked across the ballroom with, is he not? How could you do such a thing? I thought it excessively brave of you."

Rosalind rested her forehead on her raised knees. "I really do not wish to discuss that," she said. "Give me five minutes, Sylvie, and I shall come and inspect this flower garden with you."

A feeling of oppression stayed with her for the rest of the day, but she had no chance to give in to her mood. After she had dutifully inspected all the flowers with Sylvia and read all the cards, it was time for luncheon and a long conversation about the previous evening's successes between Sylvia and Cousin Hetty. Visitors began to arrive in the afternoon, almost all of them male.

It was during these visits, when the drawing room was crowded, that the Earl of Raymore put in his only appearance of the day. Rosalind, talking at the time with Nigel Broome, stiffened. She was afraid to look directly at him, but was constantly aware of his moving about the room, greeting the various visitors. She could breathe freely again only when she became aware, after twenty minutes, that he had left.

Later in the afternoon both cousins were taken driving in Hyde Park, Sylvia by Lord Standen, Rosalind by Sir Rowland Axby. The latter made no reference to the embarrassing spectacle Rosalind had made of herself the evening before. In fact, no one had done so except Sylvia. Rosalind was content during the drive to listen to Sir Rowland talk on about his family and about his house and to try not to imagine what half the people riding and walking in the park must be thinking of her.