“I appreciate that,” Miles said, “but if I am to fulfill the terms of the agreement I must be honest.” His fingers tightened on her elbow. “You wanted the truth from me, Miss Lister,” he said. “Well, you will have it. And you will have to deal with that.”

Alice bit her lip. She shook her head fiercely. “You said that there were good social reasons for not always telling the truth.”

“There are. You have just experienced one of them.” Miles laughed softly. “Never tell the hotheaded brother of a young lady that you desire her. It is asking for trouble.”

“He could have challenged you!”

Miles shrugged. “I had every faith that you would come to my rescue before that happened, my sweet. Which you did.”

“It was more than you deserved,” Alice said hotly. She wished now that she had not followed her natural instinct to help him. She knew that she had always been far too kind.

Miles smiled. “That is true, as well. I deserve nothing from you.”

His matter-of-fact acceptance of it, his utter lack of emotion, made Alice blink, until she remembered that Miles Vickery was renowned for having ice rather than blood in his veins. He did not care whether she was kind to him or not. It was not kindness he wanted from her.

“Very likely Lowell will never speak to me again,” Alice said forlornly, suddenly feeling acutely lonely. She felt bereft to have lost her brother’s support so swiftly and unexpectedly. She knew that she should have grasped the nettle before now and told her family and friends that she had accepted Miles’s proposal, but there had never seemed to be a right time. There never would be, she realized. Her mother would be delighted, of course, and ask no difficult questions, but Lowell and Lizzie and Lydia all knew her too well to accept a feeble explanation and she could not think of any convincing ones.

“Lowell will come round,” Miles said. “He’ll speak to me, too. I’ll think of a way to smooth matters over. It would not do to be at odds with my future brother-in-law.”

Alice glared at him. “This is all an entertainment to you, is it not, my lord!”

Miles shook his head. “On the contrary, Miss Lister, I am deadly serious. You have already seen tonight how determined I am to win your hand by meeting Lady Membury’s stipulations. I assure you that I will stop at nothing.”

They stood staring at one another whilst the tension seemed to spin out between them and the chatter and hum of the ballroom carried on unnoticed around them. Alice felt trapped and alone, captured by the intensity she could see in his eyes. There was such single-mindedness in Miles, such unwavering intent. When she had surrendered to his blackmail she’d had no idea of what she was unleashing.

“This frightens me,” Alice whispered. “I don’t like you. I hoped the terms of the will would make matters difficult for you.”

Miles did not smile this time. “Oh, they have,” he said. He raised a hand to her cheek and she felt his gloved fingers brush her skin in the lightest of touches. His hazel eyes were dark. “Be careful what you wish for, Miss Lister,” he said. “The terms of the will have made matters difficult for you, as well, because my honesty now compels me to show you how much I want you.”

He stopped and bent closer to her, and despite the crowded ballroom and the press of people about them and the curious glances, Alice had the absolute conviction that he was about to kiss her. His face was so close to hers that she instinctively closed her eyes. Immediately she did so her other senses took over. She could hear Miles’s breathing, smell the tang of his cologne and the delicious scent of his body beneath it, a smell that went straight to her head and made it spin. She knew he was so close, only inches away from her, and then she sensed his withdrawal and opened her eyes quickly.

Miles had straightened up, swearing softly beneath his breath, and Alice turned to see a tall, rather gaunt woman bearing down on them with a determined look on her face. She had Miles’s hazel eyes and brown hair, and an air of piercing intelligence.

“Celia, I had not forgotten that you and Mama had asked for an introduction to Miss Lister,” Miles said. “I was intending to bring her over to you.”

“You were such an unconscionably long time about it that Mama sent me instead,” Celia Vickery said. She held out a hand to Alice. “How do you do, Miss Lister?”

“This is my sister, Celia,” Miles said. “I apologize in advance for her. She is quite terrifying.”

Celia Vickery gave her brother a look that would have stripped paint and then turned to smile at Alice. “I have been in a positive fever to make your acquaintance, Miss Lister,” she said. “I was desperate to meet a woman brave-or foolish-enough to accept my brother’s suit. You know that he is an inveterate fortune hunter, of course, so you can have no illusions about him. He has very little to commend him, I fear, other than the marquisate and his good looks, and you do not strike me as a ninnyhammer who would have her head turned by those. Are you sure you do not wish to reconsider?”

Alice glanced at Miles. His stance betrayed tension. He was watching his sister, not with the sort of acceptance and affection that Alice had for Lowell, for example, but with a definite wariness.

Alice smiled back at the older woman. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Celia,” she said. “I am sure you are right that your brother has little to commend him. I am accepting him out of a sense of pity, and in the unwavering belief that the Curse of Drum will carry him off before long, leaving me a widow.”

Celia gave a bark of laughter. “Pity! How marvelous!” She gave Miles a malicious look. “I do not believe any woman has ever pitied you before, Miles.”

“I am happy to take whatever Miss Lister offers me,” Miles said smoothly, with a speaking glance at Alice.

“Hmm, well, I do not believe you for a moment, Miss Lister,” Celia Vickery said, “but no doubt you have your reasons and I shall not press you. Oh, there is Mr. Gaines!” she added. “Pray excuse me. I really must go and importune him for a dance. It is rare enough for me to meet a man who is tall enough to partner me, but when he can also hold an intelligent conversation he is to be prized indeed.” She smiled at Alice, gave her brother a sharp nod and walked away.

“Pity,” Miles said thoughtfully as she walked away. “A neat setdown, Miss Lister.”

“I thought so,” Alice said. She watched Celia stroll over to Frank Gaines, who was standing with Mr. Churchward at the edge of the ballroom. Mr. Churchward was nursing a glass of lemonade and looking very ill at ease. Mr. Gaines was drinking some hot rum punch and looked entirely at home and entirely oblivious to the glances of disgust that the Duchess of Cole was shooting in his direction.

“I see that my lawyers are here tonight to ensure that you behave in an upright and worthy manner, my lord,” Alice said. She could not help a smile. “How tiresome for you! Do you think they will follow you around everywhere for three months?”

“Very probably,” Miles said. “I am sure they will be disappointed by my blameless life. Mr. Gaines in particular is determined to catch me out and protect you from my dangerous ways.”

“Well, that is what I pay him for,” Alice said. She watched as Gaines handed his glass to Churchward, who looked as though he did not know what to do with it, and offered Celia Vickery his hand for the country dance that was forming.

“I think your sister is marvelous,” she said. She looked up into Miles’s face. “But tell me, does she really dislike you or is it merely her manner?”

Miles was silent for a long time, a rueful expression on his face. “Honesty compels me to say that I do not know Celia well so cannot answer with any certainty,” he said finally.

Alice was startled. “How is it that you do not know her?”

“Not everyone is as close to their siblings as you are to Lowell,” Miles said. There was a shade of expression in his voice that Alice could not place. “I have been away from my family a great deal and so have not had the opportunity to build a close relationship with them.”

“I did not realize,” Alice said. Once again she felt a treacherous stir of sympathy for him. She looked at him but his face was dark and closed, his expression impossible to read. “That must have been difficult for you,” she said slowly, thinking of how she had always relied on the love and support provided by her mother and by Lowell in particular.

Miles shrugged. There was tension in the line of his shoulders. “There is no need to commiserate with me,” he said. His voice was terse. “I have managed tolerably well to survive without them.”

Alice frowned. “But surely it must have hurt you to be estranged from them?”

Miles’s hand tightened on her arm. “Miss Lister, pray do not endow me with feelings that I do not possess. I assure you that I am not hurt.” Then, as Alice shook her head slightly in disbelief, he added a little roughly, “Do I look vulnerable to you, Miss Lister?”

Alice looked at him and caught her breath at the hard, dangerous look in his eyes. “No,” she whispered. “You look…” Virile? Menacing?

A man who was prepared to blackmail a woman into marriage for her money was hardly weak and defenseless, she thought, nor did he deserve any sympathy. Alice shivered, and knew that he had felt it.

“Quite,” Miles said. “Save your pity for a more deserving cause.” His grip on her arm was at the same time a warning and a gesture of possession as he steered her toward the corner where a gaggle of matrons occupied their rout chairs.

“You will allow me to introduce you to my mother, I hope, Miss Lister?” he said formally. “She is aware of our betrothal and as Celia mentioned, she is anxious to make your acquaintance.”