For a moment the marchioness found herself undergoing the disconcerting experience of being regarded through the lens of the duke's quizzing glass. But he soon let the glass fall on its ribbon.

"I must congratulate you, ma'am," he said coldly, "on your narrow escape."

"My . . . ?" Clearly she did not know what he was talking about. She took refuge behind her handkerchief and then smiled bravely and sweetly at a guest who greeted her as he passed.

"It would have been painful to you, ma'am," he said, "to see Hallmere married to your daughter when you suspect that he was somehow responsible for your son's death."

She stared at him. "Oh, I do beg your pardon," she said, her eyes widening in shock. "Is that the impression I gave in the letter I felt bound to write you, your grace? It was an accident. Joshua was with Albert before it happened. He was the last person to see him alive. There was never any question, though, that he caused the accident or even witnessed it."

"Ah," his grace said. "But there would still be the painful knowledge that the man who married your daughter had also fathered a child on her governess."

"Oh, not Constance's governess," she said. "Constance was already out of the schoolroom. Miss Jewell was governess to my other daughters, your grace. It was an unfortunate incident." She simpered and looked archly at him. "But young men will be young men, as I am sure I need not tell you, your grace. You have several younger brothers, I believe?"

The cold silver eyes regarded her in silence.

"Well." She dabbed at her eyes once more. "I considered it my duty to warn you, your grace, that your sister may be in danger of having her heart broken. Joshua is such a handsome boy and such a heartless rogue. I do not know why I love him, but I do. Lady Freyja is such a sweet lady. I would hate to see her hurt."

His grace was fingering the handle of his quizzing glass again and regarding her with haughtily raised eyebrows and arctic eyes.

"Oh." She smiled brightly and waved to someone across the room. "If you will excuse me, your grace. I see that I am wanted."

The duke bowed slightly to her, and she hurried away.

What is it, sweetheart?" Joshua asked. "Can't keep your hands off me, can you?"

He was lighting a single branch of candles on the mantelpiece in the small downstairs room his grandmother used as her office and writing room. There were a desk and chair in there, as well as a few bookcases and two matching armchairs with gilded arms and legs.

"Ha!" she said with haughty disdain.

He turned his head to grin at her. She had told him that she needed to have a private word with him, and he had brought her in here. She was wearing a transparent silver tunic over a low-cut pale blue gown with a great deal of silver thread and embroidery and was looking quite dazzlingly handsome. Her hair was threaded with silver too.

"I may well not be able to keep my hands off you," he told her, perching on the edge of the desk with one foot braced on the floor and the other leg swinging free. "I believe your modiste must have run short of fabric when she reached your bodice. With magnificent results, I might add."

"Such lascivious talk does you no credit," she said severely. "I would wager you would not dare talk thus to any other lady."

"Good Lord, no," he agreed. "I never enjoy having my face slapped. You will note that I set half a room between us before talking thus to you. I like my nose the shape it is."

"We have got ourselves into a dreadful coil," she said.

"We have," he agreed. "Somehow I suppose I imagined that Mr. King would announce our betrothal, everyone would smile and nod and assure us and one another that that was very pleasant news, and then we would all go about our business more or less as usual until you and I could decently go our separate ways again. I did not envisage this party-or the extravagance of my grandmother's delight."

"And I did not foresee Wulf's coming to Bath," she said, frowning. "It has made the whole thing horribly and embarrassingly complicated."

"Has he tried to persuade you to end the betrothal?" he asked. "I have been under the distinct impression that he is less than delighted with me." He wondered if her brother had shown her his aunt's letter or told her any of the damning things she appeared to have included in that letter.

She shook her head. "Wulf would not do that," she said. "He does not give orders. Not to his brothers and sisters anyway. Though I have often thought that he is quite expert at maneuvering us into doing what he wants us to do, apparently of our own free will."

"Perhaps, then," he said, smiling at her, "you can allow him to maneuver you into giving me my marching orders. It would be the perfect answer to our dilemma, would it not? Just give me enough warning, though, if it happens before my aunt leaves Bath so that I can flee before I find myself betrothed to someone else instead."

"I assured him," she said, "that I adore you and that you adore me. I have promised him that we will be happy."

Despite himself he threw back his head and laughed.

"You might try frowning less ferociously," he said. "I might almost believe that you do not mean a word of it."

"Is everything a joke to you?" she asked, coming closer to him. "I have never lied to Wulf before. I have always scorned lies."

He reached out and took one of her hands in his and shifted his weight so that he was sitting fully on the desk.

"At the moment," he said, "I am feeling something akin to adoration."

"He expects you to accompany us back to Lindsey Hall within the next few days," she said, "so that you can be presented to the rest of my family and our neighbors. So that our betrothal can be celebrated there. So that our wedding can be planned."

"Ah," he said, possessing himself of her other hand too. "We find ourselves in a coil indeed."

"You are not to agree to it," she said, glaring at him haughtily along the length of her nose. "You are not to come. You are to make some excuse about another commitment, and then after you have gone I will break the truth to Wulf."

"Ah, sweetheart," he said, "I have made life difficult for you."

"You have indeed," she said. "But I agreed to your mad scheme and on the whole I am not sorry. This past week has been far less tedious than it would have been if we had not been betrothed. Indeed, it has been downright enjoyable."

"For me too." He grinned at her.

She opened her mouth and drew breath to say something else, did not say it, but locked glances with him instead. It was an awkward, unexpectedly silent moment in which it seemed they both simultaneously realized that they were alone together in a small, private room lit only by the flickering light of three candles.

He was very aware of the enticingly bare expanse of her bosom, of the cleavage between her generously rounded breasts, of her gracefully arched neck, of her bold, strangely attractive face, of the shining mass of her fair hair. He felt his temperature rise a notch, his breath quicken, his groin tighten.

He drew her forward until she stood between his spread legs, and drew her arms about his waist until she locked them behind him. He cupped her face with his hands, smoothed his thumbs over her dark eyebrows and then down her cheeks to rub over her lips.

He ran his tongue over his own lips as he lowered his head and then over hers-they were soft and warm and unresisting. He drew down her bottom lip with his thumb, ran his tongue back and forth over the soft flesh inside, and then, when she opened her mouth with a low sound of acquiescence, he kissed her fully, sliding his tongue deep inside.

Desire exploded in him with furnace heat. He wrapped one arm about her shoulders and the other about her waist to draw her closer, and lost himself in sheer carnal lust.

"What are we doing?" she asked suddenly a short while later, jerking back her head and glaring at him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Kissing?" he suggested, rubbing his nose across hers and grinning at her. "We did both just agree, did we not, that it has been an enjoyable week? Why not make it more so?"

"Perhaps," she said, her hands on his shoulders as if to push away from him, "you need to be reminded that we are not really betrothed."

"Yet this is our betrothal party," he said, "and you have assured your brother that we adore each other and are going to live happily ever after together. You never lie to your brother."

He had better be careful, he thought, or he was going to talk himself into something he could not talk himself out of.

"I do not kiss every handsome stranger I encounter," she retorted.

"Only the ones you temporarily betroth yourself to?" He grinned and wrapped both arms about her waist. It was very small, a delicious contrast to her bosom and hips.

She stared at him. "Promise me you will not be persuaded to come to Lindsey Hall," she said. "This needs to be ended now-as soon as possible after tonight."

"You are afraid," he asked softly, rubbing his nose over hers again and teasing her lips with his own, "that you will not be able to resist my body much longer?"

She tutted. "I have never in my life met such a conceited man," she said.

"I am mortally afraid," he said, "that I will not be able to resist yours."

He meant it too. Having Lady Freyja Bedwyn in bed, he suspected, would be the sensual experience of a lifetime. Unfortunately, he would never know for sure. She was a lady-an aristocrat. She was out of bounds. But a betrothal, he was finding, even a fake one, was setting severe temptation in his way. In hers too, it appeared-despite her words she was making no concerted effort to get away from him.