“Yes. Have you?”

“Yes.” Her chin rose somewhat defiantly. Mary Wollstonecraft’s publication arguing against the subjection of women by men was considered seditious among the noble class. “And I found myself in accord with a number of her convictions regarding marriage. Especially those refuting the divine rights of husbands.”

“She made some interesting points about the social tyranny exercised by men,” Damien agreed, “but I thought some of her opinions stretched credibility.”

“Perhaps,” Vanessa acknowledged.

His glance seemed to measure her. “I confess, you are not precisely what I expected either. You are far more innocent. I never would have guessed you had been married before.”

“Why do you say so?”

“Because you’re so skittish with men.”

“Not all men.”

“Just myself?”

She gave him an arch look. “I think you’ve given me good reason to be skittish, if that is what I am.”

“Perhaps so. We will have to remedy that.”

Vanessa shook her head mentally at the velvet promise in his tone. It was mystifying, how she could feel safe with him when he had as much as threatened her virtue.

An easy, contented silence settled between them. Some moments later Damien broke the quiet spell by asking, “Do you always plait your hair before sleeping?”

“Usually.” She looked wary. “Why?”

“You have lovely hair. I want to see it loose and fanning across my pillow.”

It was a deliberately provocative remark, which she determinedly ignored. Even in the moonlight, however, Damien could make out the flush on her cheeks, and he was enchanted.

Catching her off guard was not easy. Breaking through her prickly defenses required a deft and delicate touch.

He’d spoken truthfully. She was indeed unexpected. He’d been mistaken about her experience, obviously, prejudiced by the scandals involving her late husband and the rumors about her afterward. Vanessa was really nothing like her rakehell of a husband or her cur of a brother.

Damien was willing to admit he might deliberately have misjudged her. Many of the highborn ladies of the ton were thoroughly selfish and self-centered, only out for themselves. Yet Vanessa seemed quite different.

Her success with his sister had surprised and gratified him. It remained to be seen if her kindness and warmth was truly real, but if her concern for Olivia wasn’t genuine, she was giving an excellent performance.

Her intelligence was surprising as well. He had never expressly sought intellectual stimulation or clever conversation in his usual mistresses. One with a keen mind would be a novelty-a novelty he suspected he would enjoy. He found himself wanting to know Vanessa better, to explore her hidden depths.

Precisely because of his growing doubts about her, though, he’d found himself wrestling with an ironic dilemma: whether or not to hold her to their bargain and make her his mistress.

His seduction of her had begun as an irresistible challenge. Her mask of reserve and her cool disdain for men like him were as tempting as a thrown gauntlet. He’d been so positive he would easily conquer this beautiful, intriguing woman. Yet to his surprise, and perhaps perplexity, his goal had subtly changed as he’d come to know her over the past few days, while his own deepening interest had only burgeoned.

He was still set on winning their war of wills, of course, yet he wanted more than her grudging submission. He was determined to turn her cool contempt to burning hunger.

Perhaps it was best, Damien acknowledged, his eyes appraising her thoughtfully, to let events unfold in their natural course, to woo her until she lost her wariness of him.

It was tantalizing to contemplate her surrender. It would be a pleasure, showing her passion. Teaching her to desire and to express that desire… Yet a cardinal rule of seduction, Damien reminded himself, was not to overstay one’s welcome. As much as he regretted terminating this intimate interlude, he’d been here long enough for one evening.

With reluctance, he rose to his feet and moved to stand before her. “I shall go now, sweeting, and permit you to rest. I hope you will invite me to return.”

Her look of surprise was quickly masked as she lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “I imagine you are free to come and go as you please, my lord. This is your house, after all. But I shall not await your arrival with bated breath.”

He flashed a slow, wicked grin. “I look forward to the day when you give me an entirely different response.”

Deliberately then, he reached out and brushed a finger lingeringly across her cheek, as much to fulfill his need for physical expression as to accustom her to his touch.

The spark that flared between them at even that light contact shocked her more than it did him. Her midnight eyes held a startlement in their luminous depths that pleased him immensely.

And with that small victory, Damien knew he would have to be content.

At least for now.

His plan for her seduction proceeded apace, with ample opportunities for intimacy. He spent some part of each day in her company, dining with her each evening and occasionally joining her afternoon visits in the gardens with his sister.

The nurse-midwife with the healing hands arrived from Kent shortly and took over Olivia’s physical therapeutic activity, which left Vanessa with unexpected time to herself.

She began to ride almost daily, exploring the beautiful estate and the surrounding countryside, attended by a groom. Once or twice she made excursions into the village of Alcester to purchase some trifles and trinkets to entertain Olivia. The most enjoyable rides, however, were the rare occasions when Damien accompanied her.

She made free use of his library, which soon became her favorite refuge in the house. The room’s decor was sumptuous-Aubusson carpets, rich wood paneling, and gilded, frescoed ceilings-but it was the treasure of leather-bound volumes lining the walls that drew her. Vanessa spent hours curled up on the window seat overlooking the rose gardens, lost in pleasure.

When she wrote letters home to her mother and sisters, she took care to mention Lord Sinclair sparingly, so as to maintain the pretense that she’d been hired to provide company for his sister. Only Aubrey knew the truth about her role as Lord Sin’s mistress.

She had argued vehemently with her brother before she left, since Aubrey had balked upon realizing the lengths to which she would have to go in order to have his debts canceled. She hadn’t spared his sensibilities, for she wanted him to clearly understand the burden he’d placed on her with his reckless exploits. In the end she prevailed, simply because they had no other recourse.

The family, however, believed she had become companion to the incapacitated Miss Sinclair for the income-a genteel enough position for an impoverished noblewoman.

Vanessa disliked having to deceive them, and disliked even more having to deceive her charge by concealing her own connection to Aubrey. She dreaded to think of Olivia’s reaction should the truth ever come out. Yet despite the heavy press of guilt, she firmly believed she was doing far more good than harm. As wealthy as Olivia was, the lonely girl was starved for friendship, and she was touchingly grateful not to have to bear her trauma alone.

Attending her had proved a delight rather than the burden Vanessa had feared. And with the hope of possible recovery, even Olivia’s chill relationship with Damien had begun a slight thawing.

Initially there was some discussion about escorting the invalid to Bath to take advantage of the hot mineral waters there, but aside from the journey by coach being too arduous to attempt in her fragile condition, Olivia didn’t want her infirmity widely known. So instead, Damien proposed to build a special bath at Rosewood for his sister, and his mornings were occupied with the design and construction in the conservatory where his rare strains of roses were cultivated.

Much to her dismay, Vanessa discovered his absence almost as compelling as his presence, for she couldn’t banish him from her thoughts, or from her dreams. His sensual magnetism haunted her waking or sleeping.

He was a far more complex man than she had first imagined. It was only gradually, however, that she learned more about what had driven him to become the legendary Lord Sin.

One morning during her second week at Rosewood, Vanessa encountered him at the stables and with great pleasure accepted his invitation to ride. They enjoyed a brisk gallop but slowed to a more sedate pace as they returned through the park. When they came to a rise overlooking the lake, Vanessa drew a breath at the shimmering splendor.

“How beautiful,” she murmured.

“Yes, I had forgotten.” Damien sounded almost wistful as he halted his horse beside her.

“You don’t spend much time here at Rosewood, I understand.”

His mouth twisted in a grimace. “I try to avoid it as much as possible.”

“Why?” she asked curiously. “If I had a home this beautiful, I doubt I would ever wish to leave.”

“My childhood gave me an aversion to the place, I’m afraid. It holds too many unpleasant memories.”

“What sort of memories?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he slowly dismounted and stood staring off into the distance.

“My parents’ marriage was a battleground,” he said finally in a low voice. “My father became so obsessed with his mistress that he sought to divorce my mother, and she hated him for it.”

“Divorce? Isn’t securing a decree difficult?”

“He had ample grounds under English law, since she was as faithless to him as he was to her. But her family was powerful and wealthy enough to prevent him dragging her through the courts.” Damien shook his head, as if remembering. “She took a procession of lovers-primarily out of revenge, I suspect. But one day she found herself spurned by her beau in favor of a younger beauty, and their marriage turned even uglier… more bitter.”