“I have no evil designs against your virginal body.”

Julia was not sure why his words filled her with such cold. “Then you are speaking of a marriage in appearance only?”

“Certainly. What else could possibly be between us?” Deverel asked.

“Nothing, of course,” she answered. “Is that what you want—to tie yourself to a loveless marriage?”

“It’s not a question of what I want. Or of what you want. It is a question of what we have to do. Or do you not believe that you have a certain duty to your family?”

“Of course I believe I have a duty to them.”

She had sworn she could not marry the man who had ruined her brother—but had he really been responsible for that? Everything inside her quailed at the idea of facing a lifetime in a loveless, even antagonistic marriage. Yet she knew that to refuse to do it would be the act of a coward.

Julia looked Deverel squarely in the eyes. “All right,” she said. “I will marry you.”

“A smart, fun-filled romp.”

—Publishers Weekly on Impetuous

Swept Away
Candace Camp

Swept Away

Contents

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Copyright

Prologue

Julia pulled the cap low on her head, hiding her face in the shadow of the brim, and edged closer to the horse whose head she held. Every muscle in her body tensed, and her eyes were glued to the man strolling down the opposite side of the street. It was Lord Stonehaven, all right. She would recognize that arrogant, muscular stride anywhere.

The horse shifted nervously as her hand unconsciously tightened on the bridle. Julia ran a soothing hand down his neck. The last thing she wanted was to alert Stonehaven. In just a few more steps they would have him. Her eyes went involuntarily to the darkened doorway beyond her quarry. She could see no sign of Nunnelly or Jasper, even knowing that they were there. It was a well-recessed doorway; that was why they had chosen this particular spot for their ambush.

She waited, scarcely daring to breathe. In another moment they would have the man responsible for her brother’s downfall. Lord Stonehaven took one step, then another. Suddenly, without a break in his stride, he stepped out into the street, bypassing the doorway. Julia clenched her teeth against the shriek of frustration that rose in her throat. Damn the man! How did he always manage to thwart them?

She knew it was over, the attempt failed like the other two times, even as the two men bolted out of the black doorway toward their quarry. Lord Stonehaven was simply too good a fighter for them to subdue him without the element of surprise. Nunnelly still had a welt across his forehead from their last attempt to prove it.

Stonehaven whirled as Nunnelly and Jasper charged, and he slammed his walking stick into Jasper’s midsection. The young man doubled over, and Lord Stonehaven neatly sidestepped him and drove a fierce right uppercut into Nunnelly’s jaw. The burly Nunnelly staggered back, dropping the sack that they had intended to pull over Lord Stonehaven’s head. Nunnelly’s feet got tangled up in the sack, and he fell to the street. Stonehaven reached down and grasped the man’s jacket, hauling him up.

“All right, you!” Stonehaven’s crisp voice carried clearly across the street. “I want some answers—now! What the devil do you mean, attacking me? This isn’t the first time, either.”

For an answer, Nunnelly swung at him, but Stonehaven stepped sharply back to avoid it, releasing Nunnelly. Jasper, still bent over from the earlier blow to his midsection, charged the man, but Stonehaven turned and brought his hand down hard on the young man’s neck, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Julia knew she had to do something to help. But she was also aware of how little good she would do her men in a brawl with Stonehaven. If he could deck Nunnelly like that, he would send her flying. So she scrambled up the coach onto the driver’s box, taking the reins in her hands. She slapped the reins noisily, then cracked the whip. Startled, the horses surged toward the men.

Even Lord Stonehaven jumped back at the sight of the coach and four barreling toward them. Nunnelly and Jasper scrambled to their feet and came running. Julia jerked the horses to a stop, knowing that Nunnelly would have a few choice things to say to her about her handling of his prize team, and the two men jumped inside. She slapped the reins again, and the carriage took off. To her surprise, Stonehaven ran after them, reaching up to grab hold of the bar the coachman used to climb up into the high seat. He jumped up onto the step. With his free hand, he reached toward the driver’s box to pull himself up. Panicked, Julia whirled and kicked him hard in the chest. It was enough to break his grip. Stonehaven fell heavily to the street.

Julia risked a look back as the horses charged forward. Stonehaven was slowly rising to his feet, dusting himself off and cursing. She turned back around and devoted herself to controlling four spooked horses. It was not an easy task. Even planting her feet firmly on the floor and standing up to haul back on the reins, she had an uneasy moment when she thought that the horses were not going to respond. It felt as if her arms would be torn from their sockets. Then the lead horses shook their heads and slowed and gradually came to a halt.

Nunnelly erupted from the carriage below. “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph!” he exclaimed, his Irish accent thick in his excitement. “Now what did ye think ye were doin’, Miss Julie?”

He ran to inspect his horses, running a calming hand over them and talking to them in the special low voice he reserved for his animals.

“I was saving your ungrateful skin, is what I was doing,” Julia replied crisply, accustomed to the man’s rough way of talking. She turned and looked behind her. The street stretched emptily into darkness. They had left Lord Stonehaven far behind in the mad rush to escape.

“Sure, now, and it’s glad I am you did,” Nunnelly allowed. “But did ye have to spook the horses while ye were doin’ it? Here, Jasper!” He swung toward his hapless assistant. “Come make yourself useful and take their heads whilst I get up atop. It’s little enough you’ve done tonight so far.”

The young man bristled at the words. “I didn’t see you do aught better!”

“Hush, you two,” Julia sighed. “We all failed.”

“It’s right ye are about that, miss,” the coachman agreed glumly as he swung up into the seat beside her and took the reins. He nodded to Jasper, and the lad let go of the horses and ran to jump up on the step at the back of the carriage.

Nunnelly looked over at Julia in her lad’s trousers, rough shirt and cap. “Thank the Lord he didn’t make it up here, miss, or that would have been the end of all of us.”

“Stonehaven wouldn’t have recognized me,” Julia replied confidently. “He’s never seen me. That time he came to see Selby in the country was when Mama was so dreadfully sick, and I never ventured downstairs.”

“That may be, miss, but your disguise wouldn’t ha’ lasted ten seconds, and he’d ’a’ known ye were a colleen.” He shook his head. “’Tis too dangerous, yer comin’ with us like this.”

“Where would you two have been tonight if I hadn’t come?” Julia retorted. “Besides, it’s my plan. I have to be here.”

This was an argument they had had many times before, and Nunnelly knew he had no chance of winning it. Julia had always been the most headstrong person he’d ever known—man or woman—and she had been able to twist him around her little finger since she was a mere slip of a girl.

Nunnelly sighed and shook his head. “The truth of it is, Miss Julie, it don’t look to be workin’.”

Julia sighed. “I know, Nunnelly. You’re right.”

This was the third time they had attempted to seize Lord Stonehaven, and he had been too quick and too good for them every time.

“He’s a fighter, miss, and a good one. I’ve heard he works out with the Gentleman himself.” His voice deepened in awe as he mentioned the most renowned pugilist of the day, Gentleman Jackson. “It’s strong, he is, and quick. Some of the gentlemen can box, ye see, but in a real fight, they’re more useless than Jasper there. But this one—filthy poltroon though he is—he cuts a fine figure in a fight.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “There are some men I could get to help. Even he couldn’t take on four or five of us and win.”

“No,” Julia responded quickly. “I don’t want too many people to know about this. You and Jasper are different.” Both Nunnelly and the groom had worked for her family for years. They couldn’t have been more loyal if they had been actual members of the family. “But strangers…it would never do for word of this to leak out.”

“No, miss,” the coachman agreed fervently. He was silent for a moment as they drove through the dark streets of London. They were almost home when he cast a speculative look at Julia and began tentatively, “Maybe we should forget it, miss….”

Julia whirled around, her eyes shooting fire. “What? Forget about Selby? Do you not care anymore about him? Do you not care if his name is cleared or if Gilbert has to live under the shadow of scandal all his life? Don’t you care about getting the man who did it to him? Or are you scared?”

Stung, the coachman replied, “There’s no man alive can call Mike Nunnelly a coward, miss, and get away with it. And there’s no call to be tellin’ me I don’t care about yer brother. It’s jist that I’m thinkin’ of you, Miss Julia. Maybe it’s time ye did something else, time ye got on with your life, thought of marrying and babies and such….”

A lesser man would have quailed before the fierce light in Julia’s eyes. “Marriage? Babies?” she replied scornfully. “Are you saying that I should tend to my knitting and let men do the work? Besides, how do you think I shall get a husband with the world thinking my brother was a…a thief!” Her eyes filled with angry tears.

“Now, don’t ye go tryin’ to change the subject on me. It’s this plan we’re talkin’ about, not your brother, God rest his soul.” The coachman crossed himself and continued. “The fact is, we did our best, miss, and it didn’t work. We’ve been here three weeks now, followin’ him around, watchin’ him go in and out, chasin’ women and playin’ cards and goin’ to that club of his. Why, it’s a miracle to catch the man alone. Always with friends or some fancy piece on his arms—which, beggin’ your pardon, miss, you shouldn’t even be seein’.”

“I know.” Julia’s expression turned thoughtful.

“Three times we’ve managed to take him by surprise and alone, and he’s got clean away, every one. If we don’t be usin’ more men, then what’re we to do? I ask you. It’s suspicious he is now—did ye hear what he said to me? He knows it was us before, maybe not the first time—but some stranger tryin’ to knock ye over the head three times, it can’t be jist bad luck. There’s no sneakin’ up on him again.”

“I realize that. You are right. Obviously this plan isn’t going to work. But I am not going to give up. Not after what he did to Selby.”

Three years earlier Julia’s brother, Selby, had been accused of stealing money from a trust fund of which he was a trustee. The man who had accused him, and who had proven to the world that Selby was guilty, was Deverel Grey, Lord Stonehaven. Though Selby had insisted he was innocent, public opinion had been hard against him. Indeed, the evidence had been compelling, convincing almost everyone except Selby’s wife and sister. In the end, Selby had shot himself while he was alone at his hunting box. People had called it suicide and taken it as further proof of his guilt. Even Phoebe, his wife, thought he had killed himself, driven to it by despair over his inability to make anyone believe him. Only Julia had clung to the belief that the shooting had been an accident, but she had placed the blame for his carelessness on the despair and frustration he had felt. The ultimate blame, she believed, lay with the man who had hounded Selby to his death, Lord Stonehaven.

Julia turned to Nunnelly, her chin jutting out in the stubborn way he knew so well. “We will simply have to come up with another plan.”

“Another plan?” The coachman frowned. “Have ye hatched another one, then?” The workings of Julia’s mind awed—and often alarmed—the stolid Irishman.

“Yes, one just came to me.”

“What is it, then?”

Julia glanced at the loyal servant. There was no way that she could tell him the truth. “Let’s wait and see.”

Nunnelly grumbled at her answer, but Julia ignored him, settling back in the high coachman’s seat and contemplating the dark houses around them. It was a daring plan. But it was, she thought with swelling hope, a plan that could work.

They had been studying Lord Stonehaven for weeks now, and she knew his weaknesses. She would use those weaknesses against him, and this time she would succeed.

She would bring Lord Stonehaven down—by seducing him.

1

“Julia, no! Absolutely not!” Phoebe, Julia’s petite blond sister-in-law, jumped to her feet at Julia’s words, her hand flying to her chest as if to keep her heart from leaping right out of it. “You cannot. You must not. You don’t know what you are saying!”

Julia sighed. She had known that Phoebe would react like this to the announcement of her new plan. Seduction was simply not something a well-bred young lady of 1811 set out to accomplish. “I do know what I’m saying. And I don’t intend to actually sleep with the man.”

Phoebe let out a strangled cry and sank back into her chair. “Julia!”

“I should think that would please you,” Julia stated practically.

“Well, of course I don’t want you to—to—you know—but, Julia, dear, you show such a want of propriety! To even speak of such a thing!” Her cheeks flamed at the thought.

“How else can I explain it to you?” Julia had little use for many of the conventions of Society. Because of her mother’s long illness, she had not made her debut when she should have, and then there had been the tremendous scandal around her brother, after which she and Phoebe had been ostracized by the ton. So she had never lived through a stifling London Season, her every word and action examined and criticized by the leading lights of the fashionable world. That, Phoebe was sure, was to blame for Julia’s lack of conventionality.

Julia knew that it went much further back. Her mother, like Phoebe, had tried to instill ladylike behavior in her daughter, but her sweet nature had never had the iron necessary to win in a battle of wills with Julia. Both her father and brother had doted on Julia, and they had found her bright wit amusing and her courageous spirit admirable. She had been allowed to express herself freely, to study where her curious mind led her, and to attempt whatever physical feat intrigued her. As a result, she had a quick mind and an even quicker tongue, could ride as if one with her horse, could hit a bull’s-eye with both firearm and arrow, and brimmed with a confidence that few women of her age had. The best that her mother had managed to do was to teach her manners, dancing and the obligations of a lady. In public she had learned to curb her tongue and control her actions, primarily so that she would not cause her mother or Phoebe distress.

Phoebe moaned and sank her head in her hands. “Julia, you cannot do this. Selby would be furious with me if he knew! I shouldn’t have let you come to London. I shouldn’t have agreed to any of this. Your first plan was bad enough—kidnapping Stonehaven and forcing him to confess! But this…!”

“Phoebe, don’t fail me now.” Julia crossed the room and knelt in front of the other woman’s chair, taking Phoebe’s hands in hers. Phoebe was as dear and sweet as a woman could be, and Julia understood why her brother had loved her so much, but there were times when Julia wished that her timid sister-in-law had a little more fire in her. “You mentioned the first plan. Remember how you worried and fretted over it? You were afraid that I would get hurt if I went along with Nunnelly and Jasper. You were afraid my reputation would be ruined.”

Phoebe nodded. “Yes. I was cast into despair every time you went out!”

“But nothing happened, did it?” Julia continued. “I came back safely every time, even tonight, and Lord Stonehaven never had the least clue that the lad atop the coach was I.”

“I know, and I thank the Lord for it.”

“Then believe me when I tell you that nothing bad will come of this, either. I told you, I’m not about to let the man have his way with me. I’m simply talking about meeting him, flirting with him, leading him on a little. Encouraging him to talk about what he’s done.”

Phoebe gazed at her doubtfully. “Do you think that will work on a man like Lord Stonehaven?”

“I am certain of it. Look—” she sat down on the floor beside Phoebe’s chair and eagerly explained “—there are two things I learned from following Lord Stonehaven these past three weeks. One was that taking him by force simply will not work. I did not know the man. I assumed that someone who did as foul a thing as he did to Selby would be too cowardly to even resist us. But physically he is strong and, I must admit, quite brave. He did not run from two men, instead he stayed and defeated them!” She could not keep a tinge of admiration from seeping into her voice. “Even tonight, when we were in the carriage and running away, he came after us—knowing that there were three of us. But—” she paused significantly “—the other thing that I discovered about him is that Lord Stonehaven is very fond of women.”

“A roué?”

Julia shrugged. “I don’t know that I would go as far as that. He doesn’t seem to pursue innocent maidens. I have only seen him with sophisticated ladies and, uh, well, women of a certain sort.”

“Oh, Julia…” Phoebe moaned.

“But don’t you see? That will work to our advantage!” Julia cried. “The man has a weakness, and it is women. That is why I realized that if I could get close to him, talk to him, I could worm the truth out of him. Why, you yourself have told me that it is when a man is pursuing a woman that he is most vulnerable, the most eager to please. Doesn’t it follow that that is when he will be the most likely to tell me what I want to know?”

“I don’t know.” Phoebe looked uncertain. It seemed to her that Selby had been at his most vulnerable after they had made love, but she certainly could not reveal something like that to his sister!

“I have found with my suitors that they are amazingly eager to talk, especially about themselves and how clever they are and what great things they have done. They want to impress me. I suspect that Lord Stonehaven is the same way.”

“Perhaps so, but, Julia, I think that you are getting in over your head. You haven’t even made your debut, and Lord Stonehaven is a wealthy man who has been on the town for some years. I am sure he is in his thirties.”

Julia raised her eyebrows and stood up, putting a hurt look on her face. “Are you saying that you do not think I can attract a sophisticated man like Lord Stonehaven? That only those who live in a little town like Whitley are drawn to me?”

Her gentle sister-in-law looked horrified, as Julia had known she would, and she forgot her questions for a moment in a storm of anxiety. “Oh, no, I did not mean that! Dearest Julia, you must know that I would never think you could not attract any man you wish. You are the most beautiful woman I know. Not just in Kent—I am sure that if you had had a Season in London, you would have outshone all the other debutantes.”

Julia smiled. She had not really had any qualms about her ability to attract a man, sophisticated or not. She had merely wanted to distract Phoebe from her worries. Julia Armiger had been assured that she was a beauty from the time she was old enough to toddle. The eager pursuit of her since she was sixteen by every gentleman within the vicinity of their country house had done nothing to disabuse her of the notion. Indeed, looking in the mirror each day was reassurance enough of that. Her figure was tall, slender and high-breasted, the perfect body for the high-waisted, soft, flowing styles that were currently popular. Her hair was a rich auburn, thick and inviting, and her eyes were a vibrant blue, accented by thick lashes. Everything about her face, from her creamy white complexion to the narrow arch of her dark brown brows to the sweet curve of her full lower lip, all combined to create a perfection that would perhaps have been cold if it had not been for the warmth of her smile and the pert little dimple that often creased her cheek.

Julia was not vain about her beauty. She accepted it as a fact, just as she accepted that she could handle a horse or read a book. Her beauty, she had found, meant a great deal more to others than it did to her. Indeed, there had been times when it had been a trial, when she had wished when conversing with a man that he could talk to her about something more interesting than the quality of her skin or the brightness of her eyes. It seemed to her that, in choosing a wife, it would be more important to find a pleasing personality such as Phoebe had than great beauty.

“Do you forgive me, dear Julia?” Phoebe asked with some anxiety, and Julia bent to give her a reassuring hug.

“Of course. I was merely teasing you. You have paid me compliments often enough to turn my head, I assure you.”

Phoebe smiled and relaxed. “Good. What I meant to say was that Lord Stonehaven has had far more experience than you. I am sure that he will admire you the moment he sees you, but it is what he might do that worries me. You intend only to tease him, but he is a dangerous man. An unscrupulous one! Think what he did to Selby, who had been his friend for years. What if you arouse him, and he—he does not behave like a gentleman? What if he—” She lowered her voice. “What if he forces you?”

“I may not have made my Season, but I have had some experience with men. I do not think the ones in Kent are that different from other men. I have always been able to handle my suitors, including the one or two who made less-than-gentlemanly overtures to me.”

Phoebe’s eyes widened. “No! They did? Who?”

Julia chuckled. “Squire Buntwell, for one.”

“Squire Buntwell! That old pudding!” Phoebe exclaimed indignantly. “What would he think a woman like you would want with him? Why, he’s fifty if he’s a day, and married, besides.”

“I don’t think he was overly concerned with what I wanted, only with what he wanted. Anyway, I made it clear to him that he should look elsewhere for his satisfaction.” Julia’s eyes twinkled with laughter as she recalled the incident.

“What did you do?”

“I stamped hard on his instep and punched him in that fat stomach. And while he was doubled over, trying to catch his breath, I told him that if he ever tried it again, I would tell his wife, the pastor and all the gossips in the county. He would be a laughingstock. I think he saw my point.”

Phoebe giggled. “I am sure he did. But I don’t think that would necessarily work with a man like Stonehaven.”

“Perhaps not. However, I can carry Selby’s detonator with me,” Julia said, naming the small pocket-size pistol in her brother’s collection. “I would think that a man’s ardor decreases dramatically when he’s staring down the barrel of a firearm.”

“Julia!” Phoebe looked shocked, but could not keep from bursting into laughter.

At that moment they were interrupted by the tumultuous entrance of a six-year-old boy.

“Mama! Mama! Oh, Auntie, there you are. I was looking everywhere for you. Look what I got!” He held out one grubby hand, palm up, to reveal a prize he knew would be far more appreciated by his aunt than his loving, but strangely squeamish, mother.

“A caterpillar!” Julia cried, echoed somewhat less enthusiastically by Phoebe, and bent down to look at the prize in the boy’s hand. “Wonderful, Gilbert! You didn’t squash it a bit, either.”

Gilbert nodded proudly. “I know. I ’membered what you said, how the green juice was like blood to him, so I didn’t squeeze him.”

“Good lad.”

“Could I keep him?” He looked over at his mother. “Please?”

Phoebe smiled at the boy. Sturdily built, he had an angelic face, with her own light blue eyes and sweet smile, but Selby’s strong chin and jaw. A cloud of bright red-gold curls added to the illusion of a cherub. Phoebe, while she might not share her son’s fondness for worms, snakes and caterpillars, rarely could deny him anything.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. Just make sure to put him in a container, though, or he might frighten the maids.”

“Get Nurse to find a jar for you,” Julia instructed. “And remember, put holes in the top, and a twig and some leaves inside for him.”

Gilbert nodded and bounced out of the room to show his prize to his nurse. Phoebe looked after him with a sigh, her eyes filling with tears. Gilbert, only three years old when his father died, could not even remember Selby. “If only Selby had lived to see him grow up.”

Her wistful words hardened Julia’s resolve. “And he would have lived to see him—if Stonehaven had not hounded him to death. Phoebe, I have to make Stonehaven reveal the truth, don’t you see?”

Phoebe nodded. “I know.”

“If I do nothing, Gilbert will always have to live under the shadow of the scandal. He’ll hear the whispers. People will turn away from him, refuse to meet him or issue him an invitation.” She paused, not adding, “The way they have us.” But Phoebe knew that truth as well as she.

The scandal surrounding Selby and his death had sealed Julia and Phoebe off from “polite society.” Phoebe no longer went to London for the Season. Julia, who had not yet made her debut, had accepted that she never would. The blot on the family name was too great. Even in the small circle of their country acquaintances, there had been those who had cut them. Wherever they went, even church, they saw people whispering and staring. When they had moved to the Armiger London house a few weeks ago, more than one Society matron had looked the other way when she saw them. The memory of the ton was very long.

“No,” Phoebe whispered fiercely. Normally sweet-tempered, a threat to her beloved child was enough to turn her into a fiery avenger. “That cannot happen to Gilbert. We must not let it.” She looked up into her sister-in-law’s vivid blue eyes, and her jaw hardened with determination. “You are right. I was being weak. Of course we must continue to try to prove Selby’s innocence. You do what you must. Whatever it takes.”

Julia grinned. “I knew you would stand firm, Phoebe.” For all her gentle nature and her worries about impropriety, Phoebe alone out of everyone they knew had believed as firmly as Julia herself that Selby was innocent of the accusations and had been as determined to prove it.

Phoebe gave her a quick smile and picked up her sewing again. Then she stopped and looked up questioningly. “But, Julie, dear…how are you going to meet Lord Stonehaven? We don’t go out in Society. Indeed, I am sure that we would not be received even if we tried.”

“No. That is a problem.” Julia did not deem it necessary to tell Phoebe that the kind of woman that she planned to be for Lord Stonehaven would not be one he would meet at Society fetes. It was better if Phoebe did not know quite all the details. “But I’ve been thinking—I believe I can get help from Cousin Geoffrey.”

“Geoffrey Pemberton?” Phoebe’s face cleared, and she smiled. “That’s good. He is a most elegant gentleman, so courteous. I am sure he will know just what to do.”

“No doubt.” Julia did not tell her that she was not seeking her cousin’s advice in the matter, merely his aid in executing her own scheme. She knew exactly how she intended to meet and interest Stonehaven. It was unfortunate that it required the help of some willing male. She was sure that Phoebe would have been alarmed to know that she was seeking out her cousin’s help because he was the least shockable gentleman she knew, and also the laziest. If she kept after him long enough, Geoffrey would eventually give in rather than expend the effort of arguing.

“But, Julia, don’t you think that Lord Stonehaven will be suspicious of your motives, no matter how he meets you? I mean, your being Selby’s sister.”

Julia smiled in a way that Phoebe found a little blood-chilling and said, “Ah, but, you see, I am not going to be me.”

Julia found her cousin alone in his apartments later that afternoon. She had wisely waited until after three to give him time to awaken, eat and get properly dressed for the day, all three occupations that required a great deal of time. When his man ushered Julia into the drawing room, bowing and intoning her name, Cousin Geoffrey looked up at her with a startled stare that reminded her forcibly of a doe spotting a hunter.

“Cousin Julia!” he exclaimed, rising politely and casting a quick, nervous glance around. “What are you doing here?”

“No way to escape, Cuz,” Julia responded cheerfully, coming forward to offer her hand. “Please, sit down. Surely we needn’t stand on ceremony.”

“No. No, of course not. Escape, indeed!” He offered a faint laugh. “As if I did not enjoy your visits to the utmost.”

Julia chuckled. “Don’t lie to me, Cousin. I remember quite well when you told me that you found my visits wearing in the extreme.”

Her cousin smiled languidly. He was a nice-looking man—a trifle plumpish around the waist, but he hid it well with waistcoats, and he boasted a nice turn of leg. Being related to them on their mother’s side, he had escaped the red hair that plagued the Armigers. Selby had often despaired of his bright carrottop hair and easily burned white skin, but Geoffrey’s hair was brown, as were his eyes, and he had a most charming smile. He dressed in the height of fashion, but never to the extremes, for he said that he found keeping up with the latest fads much too taxing. His taste was elegant, as Phoebe had said. His furnishings, like his clothes, were exquisite; his wines were always the best; and if there was a cook better than his, he would not rest until he had hunted him down—in his own lazy fashion, of course—and lured him away from his present employer. Being endowed with enough money to satisfy his expensive tastes and to ensure that he would never have to exert himself, he was a content man.

“My dearest Julia, you know that I am quite fond of you….”

“In your own way,” she interjected, smiling.

“Yes, of course. While it is true that I am a little—shall we say, wary?—of these odd paroxysms of energy that seize you at times, in general you are one of my preferred relatives.”

“Given the way you feel about most of your relatives, I am not sure how much of a compliment that is.”

“I was taken aback, though, to find you visiting me here. For one thing, it isn’t exactly done, you know, calling on a man in his bachelor quarters.”

“What else should I do?” Julia replied pragmatically. “I wanted to see you.”

“A little note dropped by to let me know you were in the city—that’s the ticket. I was quite unaware of your presence, or I would have called.”

Julia dismissed the niceties of proper behavior with a shrug. “Phoebe and I came up a few weeks ago.”

“Ah, the fair Phoebe.” Another smile creased his face. “How is that lovely creature?”

“As kind and sweet and motherly as ever. Not as sad, however. Time tempers all grief, I suppose.”

“Yes. It is only kind, you know. Otherwise, I am sure that we would not be able to live.”

“But neither she nor I have forgotten Selby.”

“Of course not. It’s not to be expected.” He was watching her more warily now, sensing that they were arriving at the meat of Julia’s quest.

“Nor have we forgiven those who drove him to his grave.”

“My dear, you sound positively Greek. Whatever are you talking about?”

“I am talking about clearing my brother’s name. I need your help to do it.”

If she had not been so intent on her mission, Julia would have laughed at the horrified widening of Geoffrey’s brown eyes.

“But, my dear cousin, you know I am not much good at this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing? You haven’t even heard what I’m going to ask.”

“I mean revenge and all that. Ferreting out clues, finding the guilty party.”

“You won’t have to do much,” Julia assured him. “I just need you to get me inside one of the nicer gaming establishments. Madame Beauclaire’s, to be exact.”

Geoffrey’s eyes now looked as if they might pop right out of his head. “Have you gone mad! A lady at a gambling hell!”

“I wouldn’t call it a hell, would you? I know Selby used to go there, and he said it was quite a genteel establishment. He said that there were even ladies who attended.”

“There are females there,” Geoffrey admitted. “There are even sometimes a woman or two of the ton—but never one who is young and unmarried. Most of the women you would find there are, well, uh…”

“Loose?” Julia suggested.

“Really, Julia, you must stop these frank ways of yours if you are ever to get anywhere in Society.”

“And that, dear cousin, is something we both know will never occur. Not after what happened to Selby.”

He sighed. “I know. It’s a terrible thing. I wish there were something I could do about it….” He shrugged eloquently.

“There is. You can escort me to Madame Beauclaire’s. One cannot get in without an invitation, I’ve heard. I am sure that you would always have an invitation.”

“Of course.” He looked slightly offended that there could be any doubt about the matter. “However, I rarely go. Gambling is so taxing, I find. All that tension—the fear of losing, the excitement of winning. Just watching some of those poor devils is enough to tire me.” When Julia said nothing, merely continued to watch him, he sighed and continued, “What good will it do, anyway? How can your going to Madame Beauclaire’s clear Selby’s name?”

“Lord Stonehaven goes there—so I have heard.” Julia refrained from mentioning that she had observed him entering the small, elegant house on three different occasions—twice with a beautiful woman on his arm. “I need to speak with him.”

Geoffrey groaned. “You’re not going to confront Stonehaven in the middle of Madame Beauclaire’s, are you? It wouldn’t be at all the thing, you know.”

“I’m not that dead to propriety, Geoffrey. I don’t intend to confront the man at all. I simply want to talk to him.”

“If you hope to persuade him that Selby didn’t do it, I must warn you that I think it’s a lost cause. The evidence was overwhelming—those letters Selby wrote, his using that name….”

The trust that Selby had been accused of stealing from had been set up for Thomas St. Leger, the son of one of Selby’s friends. Walter St. Leger, the father, had died when he was only twenty-nine, leaving behind a widow, Pamela, and a young son. While the mother, of course, had the guardianship and care of the boy, the estate had been put into a trust until Thomas reached his majority, and Walter had named as trustees four of his friends: Sir Selby Armiger; Deverel Grey, Lord Stonehaven; Varian St. Leger, who was also his cousin; and Major Gordon Fitzmaurice. The fund was actually administered by an agent in London, who took care of the investments of the trust. The trustees’ job was to oversee the boy’s needs and to direct the agent to remit money to his mother as needed. In theory, any of the four trustees could order the disposition of the money, as long as the request was in writing and was co-signed by another of the trustees. In practice, it had been Selby who most often had made requests for the money, because his estate lay near Thomas’s lands, and it was he who frequently saw the boy and who had the closest relationship with him.

Lord Stonehaven had grown suspicious when he learned that four large sums of money had been withdrawn from the trust within the space of a year, and that each of them had been sent not to Thomas St. Leger or his mother, but to a person named Jack Fletcher at a London address. A search had turned up no such person and no reason for money to be sent to him. The money had simply disappeared. All four letters requesting the transfer of funds had been written in Selby’s hand and signed by him. They had been countersigned, of course: once by Varian St. Leger and three times by Major Fitzmaurice, but neither of the two men could recall the letters. The most damning thing had been the name Jack Fletcher. All the trustees had known that Jack Fletcher was a false name made up by Selby when they were all young men first sowing their wild oats. Upon being caught in some scrape or other at the university, Selby had always blamed it on Jack Fletcher. The name had become something of a joke with him; thereafter, whenever anything happened—an accident or a prank gone awry—he would laughingly say that Jack Fletcher must have done it. He had even gone so far as to invent a family history for the fictitious man and endow him with all sorts of bizarre characteristics and peculiar looks. The fact that the money had been sent to that name seemed an egregiously arrogant act on Selby’s part, a mental thumbing of his nose at the world, and it was taken as proof positive that he had committed the crime.

“I know how damning it looked,” Julia admitted. “It shows you how far the real thief went to make it look as if Selby were the one who had done it.”

“But Selby’s suicide…” Geoffrey said delicately. “Why would he have killed himself if he had not—”

“He didn’t kill himself!” Julia snapped, whirling around to face him. Her eyes blazed, and she set her fists pugnaciously on her hips. “Selby had too much courage for that. He wouldn’t have abandoned Phoebe and Gilbert to the scandal. Phoebe—well, I’m afraid Phoebe thinks that he did kill himself, that he was so upset over the fact that no one believed him that he put an end to it. But I am certain it was an accident. He was at his hunting lodge. He was probably cleaning his gun or—or loading it to go out and shoot, and it went off somehow. No doubt he was so distracted by worry and the feeling of being under suspicion that he was careless in a way he would not have been normally. His death was a direct result of Stonehaven’s hounding him.” She narrowed her eyes at her cousin. “Don’t tell me that you are one of the ones who thought he was guilty.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” her cousin replied honestly. “I would have said he was one of the most honest and trustworthy men I know. It seems inconceivable that he could have betrayed a trust like that. But the evidence—”

“Was faked!” Julia said flatly. “Someone very carefully set out to make sure that Selby was the one blamed for the disappearance of the money. That someone, I am convinced, was Deverel Grey.”

“Lord Stonehaven?” Geoffrey goggled even more. “Really, Julia, if there’s anyone more unlikely than Selby to do such a thing, it is Stonehaven. I never met anyone who was such a stickler about honor and duty.”

“Lip service,” Julia told him with an airy wave of her hand. “Phoebe and I have been thinking and talking about this for a long time. The culprit has to be Stonehaven. He discovered it, and he pursued it diligently.”

“Wait. I’ve lost the scent. If he had done it, surely he would have wanted to keep it secret.”

“Not when he had put so much time and effort into making it appear that another man had done the deed. He probably realized that someone, the agent or one of the other trustees, would soon begin to question the large expenditures. He had carefully established my brother as the criminal. So he exposed him to the world and whipped up public opinion against him. Selby didn’t stand a chance after that of getting anyone to listen to him. The vigor with which Stonehaven pursued him fairly reeks of malice. Why would he have been so intent on destroying Selby if not for the fact that he was desperately trying to hide the fact that he was the real thief?” Julia gave a decisive nod of her head to underscore her point.

“It does make a certain sense,” Geoffrey agreed slowly.

“Of course it does! It had to be someone who knew a great deal about Selby and about the trust. It had to be someone with the opportunity to do those things. Since Phoebe and I know that it was not Selby, then it is obvious that the real culprit must be the one who worked so hard to lay the blame on Selby—Stonehaven.”

“But how? Why? Stonehaven is a very wealthy man, you know. He wouldn’t need to steal money from St. Leger’s trust.”

“So everyone thinks,” Julia replied darkly. “Who really knows about another man’s finances? Don’t you see? That is precisely why I need to talk to Lord Stonehaven. I need to discover the reasons, the means.”

“Do you think he will simply tell you?” Geoffrey assumed a falsetto voice. “‘Oh, Lord Stonehaven, do tell, did you embezzle forty thousand pounds from young Thomas’s trust?”’ He lowered his voice to a gravelly pitch. “‘Why, yes, dear lady, I did. I’m so sorry that you asked, for of course I could not lie.”’

Julia grimaced. “You know I’m capable of being much more deceptive than that. Maybe I won’t be able to get him to confess, but surely I can get enough information out of him that I will be able to figure it out.”

“How can you possibly deceive him when everyone knows you are Selby’s sister?”

“Ah, but very few people in London know who I am. And, of course, I shall give Lord Stonehaven a false name.”

“Of course,” Geoffrey murmured. “I should have realized….”

“Please, Geoffrey…” Julia put on her most winsome expression. “Tell me that you will help me. Say you’ll escort me to Madame Beauclaire’s. That’s all you will have to do. You don’t have to stay with me or see me home or anything. I’ll take care of all the rest.”

“I can’t just abandon you there. I shall have to escort you home.”

“That’s not much,” Julia noted.

Geoffrey sighed. “You always make things sound so reasonable. So simple. Then they wind up an utter wasps’ nest.”

“It won’t. Even if it does, I promise that I will not involve you in it. I will never reveal that you were the one who got me inside.”

Geoffrey cocked one eyebrow at her. “If I refuse, how long are you going to keep after me to do it?”

Julia gave him a dimpling smile and tilted her head to one side, pretending to weigh the thought. “I’d say until the day I die.”

“I thought as much.” He shook his head. “I know I shall regret this. I shall probably end up either in gaol or fighting a duel. But I shall do it.”

Julia let out a little shriek and impulsively hugged him.

“Cousin, please,” he protested. “You’ll wrinkle my cravat!”

“Sorry.” She stepped back, still smiling. “Tonight, then?”

“Tonight!” He looked thunderstruck. “My dear, at least give me a chance to prepare myself.”

“Pooh. There’s no preparation necessary. It’s better to strike while the iron’s hot.” She knew from following Stonehaven that it had been several days since he had gone to Madame Beauclaire’s, so this evening seemed an opportune moment. However, she could hardly tell Geoffrey her reasoning.

“Where do you get such vulgar expressions?” Geoffrey drawled. “All right. You win. Tonight it will be.”

It took all Julia’s and Phoebe’s combined efforts to get her ready in time. She had decided to wear one of Phoebe’s dresses, since a married woman’s wardrobe allowed for a more flamboyant selection of color than the pastels and whites to which maidens were relegated. Though Phoebe’s blond looks were not enhanced by some of the jewellike colors that flattered Julia’s vivid coloring, there were a few gowns of suitable appearance and style, primarily one of a vivid peacock blue satin that made Julia’s blue eyes bright pools of color and also was a perfect complement to her auburn hair and creamy skin.

Since Phoebe was both shorter and rounder, the dress required some creative work on the seams and hem. But Phoebe was a fair hand with the needle, and the dress, fortunately, was stylishly narrow, so there was not much hem to lengthen. After Phoebe was through with it, Julia took the dress to her room and quickly pulled out the threads that held the ruffles of lace in place at the neckline, thereby lowering the neck of the dress to a level that would have horrified Phoebe. An upswept hairdo with artfully arranged wisps of curls gave her a stylish but somewhat tousled look, which she thought would surely make a man think of running his hands through her hair. The newly redone dress, when she pulled it on and fastened it, fit her like a glove. The high waist and low neckline combined to cup and reveal her full breasts to their best advantage, and the long, narrow skirt emphasized the slender length of her legs. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her eyes blazed. She had not, she thought, ever looked better.

Julia suffered a brief qualm as she thought of the acting job that lay before her. She must convince a man whom she despised that she was attracted to him. She must also make him believe she was an experienced woman of the world, fully capable not only of arousing a man’s desire, but also of fulfilling it, for if he thought she was the well-bred young lady fresh from the country that she really was, he would doubtless keep his passions leashed, and that was the last thing she wanted. His desire must well up hot and strong, the kind of feeling that could sweep a man into revealing far more than he normally would. Whatever she had told her cousin and Phoebe about merely talking to Lord Stonehaven, her real intention was to bring him so quiveringly close to the brink of mindless passion that he would reveal anything.

Prudently, she wrapped her cloak around her before she descended the stairs to meet Geoffrey. It would not do for either him or Phoebe to get a glimpse of how her dress actually looked. Geoffrey would probably not be as shocked as Phoebe would, but he was all too likely to pronounce that her attire was “not the thing” and refuse to take her until she changed. When she entered the drawing room, Phoebe, who had been chatting with Geoffrey, sprang to her feet.

“Julia! You look beautiful!”

“Egad, Cuz,” Geoffrey added. “Indeed you do. I shall be the most envied man in the room tonight.”

Julia favored him with a dazzling smile. Phoebe came forward to hug her and whisper a wish for good luck to her. Then Julia took Geoffrey’s arm, and they left.

The carriage drive was not long, for which Julia was grateful. She could not keep her mind on the languid chitchat in which Geoffrey engaged. The knot of nerves in her stomach grew as they drew closer to the gaming house, and by the time they pulled up in front of the small, elegant structure, she was afraid she might disgrace herself and ruin everything by being sick.

She took Geoffrey’s arm with an icy hand and walked up the steps to the house, hoping that she looked calm rather than terrified. Geoffrey was greeted with courteous familiarity at the door and quickly ushered inside. She felt the eyes of more than one occupant of the house turn toward her as they strolled in, but she was too busy gazing all around her at the strange atmosphere to pay attention to anything else.

It was a house like many others, decorated with no lack of taste or expense, with the difference that instead of couches and chairs and the usual things that filled the drawing room and dining room, the rooms opening off the entry were furnished with tables and chairs, all filled by men playing cards. There were only two women among the fifteen or twenty men she could see. One was a silver-haired woman with a fortune in jewelry around her neck and at her ears. Her eyes were fixed intently on the cards in her hand, and a feverish spot of red colored each cheek. The other female was a petite woman with improbably blond hair and an overly voluptuous figure stuffed into a gown designed for a sylph. Julia’s first thought was that the woman looked vulgar, but she quickly reminded herself that she, too, was dressed in less-than-ladylike attire.

A servant came up to take her gloves and cloak. Julia dawdled over the tasks, reluctant to reveal her attire to Geoffrey, but fortunately, before she had to draw off her cloak, a friend of Geoffrey’s hallooed at him from the next room. Geoffrey lifted his hand in a wave and smiled. He was as convivial as he was lazy, and Julia knew that he would spend the evening drinking and conversing with his friends in endless rounds of cards, and therefore, in his careless way, would probably lose all track of her.

“Ah, there is Cornbliss. I suppose I must go to him.” He looked back at Julia. “Shall I introduce you? What is your name, by the by, or I shall make a shocking slip, I’m sure.”

“Jessica,” Julia answered quickly, having spent a good part of the afternoon cogitating on names and other matters of deception. “That way, if either of us slips and starts to say my name, we can change it quickly.”

“Clever girl.”

“Jessica Murrow,” she added. “As for who I am, it doesn’t matter.”

“I shall maintain an air of mystery, that’s always handy when one doesn’t know what one’s doing.”

Julia smiled. “Go join your friends. I shan’t mind, and I don’t need to be introduced.”

“If you are sure?”

Julia nodded. She had counted on Geoffrey’s laziness and general unconcern to keep him out of her hair, and she was happy to see that she had been right. With a brief salute of his lips against the back of Julia’s hand, he strolled away to join his compatriots. Relieved, she shrugged out of her cloak and handed it to the long-suffering footman who still stood waiting for her. Quickly she stepped into the room opposite the one her cousin had entered and moved out of sight of the wide doorway. Thus established, she took stock of her surroundings.

She had never before been in such an intensely masculine atmosphere. It must be, she thought, similar to a gentleman’s club, that inner sanctum of masculinity from which all women were excluded. Smoke rose lazily from cigars and pipes without regard to feminine sensibilities. Snifters of brandy and glasses of port or wine sat on the tables beside them. The rumble of male voices filled the air, punctuated now and then by a bark of loud laughter. Julia suspected that she would hear things tonight that would make her blush.

She wandered through the room, then out the connecting doors into the larger room beyond. This, she realized, must be a small ballroom. Here, in addition to the tables of cardplayers, were two tables centered by the popular wheels of chance and another long table where a game of dice had drawn the attention of a large number of men. A woman in her forties stood beside one of the players, seemingly observing the play, but Julia noticed that her eyes were rarely fixed on the table. Her gaze roamed the room with calm efficiency, taking in everything without seeming sharp or inquisitive. She smiled and nodded at one person or another who raised a hand in greeting, and after a moment she moved away from that table to another one. This woman, Julia decided, must be Madame Beauclaire herself, for she definitely had the air of someone in charge. Julia studied her covertly, a little amazed to find that the mistress of a gaming house moved and spoke with such an air of gentility. Her dress of olive green crepe was less revealing than Julia’s own, very much the sort of thing a middle-aged Society matron would wear to a party, and only a simple strand of pearls encircled her throat. She wore only one or two rings, including a simple gold wedding band, and a set of small diamond-and-pearl ear-bobs danced in her earlobes.

Her gaze turned to Julia, and Julia knew that she was summing up her clothes and manner in the first steps to determining exactly who and what this stranger was. When she looked straight at Julia, Julia favored her with a small smile, then turned away—without haste—and moved back out into the entry hall. A visit to the music room across the hall, where a woman vainly battled the noise with a number on the pianoforte, established that Lord Stonehaven was not in the house.

Julia took out her nerves on the lace handkerchief she carried, wringing it between her hands. What was she to do if the man did not come tonight? Even if he came, how would she occupy herself until that moment? She had felt the gazes of more than one interested man on her during her stroll through the rooms, and she felt sure that it would not be long before she began receiving invitations of a decidedly improper sort. The best thing, she thought, was to keep moving, and with that in mind, she turned and started across the hall back to the larger room. Just as she did, the front door opened, and she turned. The footman who had answered the door stepped aside with an obsequious bow.

Lord Stonehaven stepped into the hall.

Julia stopped short. Suddenly she could not breathe. Nor could she tear her eyes away from the figure standing at the other end of the hall. He was tall, with the wide shoulders and long, muscled legs of a sportsman. Elegantly attired in black evening wear, a starched cravat tied perfectly at his neck, he was the picture of a well-to-do gentleman. Diamond studs winked at his cuffs.

He looked up, and his eyes met hers. For a moment they were frozen in time, staring at each other. Stonehaven was, Julia had to admit, the most handsome man she had ever seen. Thick black hair, cut fashionably short, framed a square-jawed face of perfect proportions. His mouth was wide and mobile, his nose straight, and two black slashes of brows accented eyes as dark as his hair and sinfully long-lashed. A stubborn chin with a deep cleft and a small slash of a scar on his cheekbone gave his face a firmly masculine set.

Hate spurted up in Julia, hot and tasting of bile, and her heart pounded crazily. She detested this man with a fury that threatened to swamp her. And tonight she had to make him want her more than he had ever wanted any other woman.

2

Julia broke her paralysis and looked away from Stonehaven. Slowly, affecting an air of unconcern, she continued on her path into the large gaming room. Her heart was pounding like a drum, and it was all she could do to keep herself from turning to glance back at him. Was he still watching her? Would he follow?

She knew that she could not look, could not seem interested in him. Ever since she had come up with the idea of luring Lord Stonehaven into her feminine web, she had thought carefully about how to do it. He had been a friend of her brother’s for years, albeit not one of his closest, and Selby had spoken of him now and then, usually in the context of some sort of sport—hunting, boxing, marksmanship. He was, she knew, a man who thrived on competition, who liked a challenge. So she had determined that the best way to attract his interest was to appear disinterested herself. Let him be the hunter. Let him come to her and try to win her favors—that was the way to fix his desire on her.

Still, it took all her willpower to refrain from looking. She strolled into the gaming room and down the length of it, moving as far from him as she could get. She paused behind a table of players and idly observed them for a few moments. She could not have said what they were playing, and she did not even notice the inviting smile that one of the men sent her way. All her attention, all her thoughts, were on the room behind her and the question of whether or not Lord Stonehaven had entered it. She was about to turn away toward another table when a masculine voice spoke behind her.

“Are you fond of piquet?”

A thrill shot down her nerves, but she made herself turn casually to look at the speaker. Lord Stonehaven was standing only a foot away from her, a smile that she could classify only as supercilious touching his mouth. He was watching her, his dark eyes faintly amused. He was even more handsome up close, she thought, the sort of man who would set young women to giggling and smirking. Julia, however, had no desire to do either one; the urge she felt rushing up inside her was a strong desire to launch into him, fists flying. This man had ruined her brother! Her anger was so deep and bitter, she could almost taste it. It was going to require all her self-possession, she realized, to pretend to calm indifference.

“Were you addressing me, sir?” she asked in as cool a voice as she could muster.

“Why, yes, I was.” The amusement in his eyes deepened. “Sorry—I realize that we are not acquainted, but I presumed upon a common interest.” He made a vague gesture toward the room.

“Indeed.” Julia gave him a small smile, letting a hint of the dimple appear in her cheek. She had, after all, to give him some encouragement even as she pretended to elude him.

He returned the smile, and Julia felt her stomach turn a little flip. Who would have thought that a man such as he could have so much warmth in his eyes? She glanced away quickly, then worried that she had been too demure for the part she was playing.

“Have you played here before?” he asked, and she turned her attention back to him. “I have not seen you.”

“No. This is my first evening here. I came with a friend.”

“A good friend?” he asked in a slow, rich voice, and she realized that he was subtly asking if she was some other man’s mistress.

“No,” she replied, hoping that her cheeks did not betray her by reddening. “Not a good friend.”

“How nice for me. Then I am hopeful he will not mind if I get you a glass of punch.”

“It does not matter. You see, it is I you must ask about such things, not any man.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Ah. An independent woman, I see.”

“Indeed I am.”

“Then may I escort you to the refreshment tables?” He offered her his arm.

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “That would be very nice.”

There was something quite freeing about acting this way, Julia thought as she walked with him into the hall. She had never before in her life been in a place like this, where there were no matrons watching, no expectations on everyone’s part of how a young woman should act and what she should say. Though Julia considered herself a free thinker, she had been raised to act as a young lady should, and she had always been aware of the need to act in such a way as not to bring any embarrassment to her family.

Like any other young woman, she was careful not to dance more than twice with the same man and not to flirt too much with any one man, lest she be said to be forward. She had always to pay her respects to the old ladies who lined the walls at the county cotillions, looking like a group of well-fed buzzards in their invariably black dresses, and to be careful not to say something to offend them. If a man wanted to escort her down to dine at a ball, he had first to request permission of her chaperon. These were the sorts of restrictions that chafed at her, but which she knew she could not flout without bringing down local censure not only on herself but on poor Phoebe, and before that her mother, for their perceived laxity in training her.

But here there were no duennas, no women who could enumerate her family lineage back to Queen Elizabeth, if not beyond. There was no one to gossip or to care how she acted, no conventions to flout. No one even knew who she was, so her family name could not be called into shame. There was not the least likelihood that anyone would be shocked by her behavior, unless perhaps she decided to take it into her head to get up on a table and remove all her clothes—and from what she had seen of many of the avid cardplayers here tonight, most of them would be concerned only because she was wasting one of their card tables. She could, she thought, say exactly what she wanted and act precisely how she pleased, and no one would give it a second thought.

“I hope your thoughts concern me,” her companion said, and Julia turned to look at him, startled.

“What?”

“Your smile was one of such happiness, I was hopeful that I figured in your thoughts.”

“Oh.” Julia chuckled. “Now you have me, sir, for if I say they were of you, then I am over bold, and if I say they were not, I am insulting.”

“I suspect that you are a woman who does not care particularly if either is said of you.”

Julia gave him an enigmatic smile. “I would say that would depend on who was speaking.”

“Ah. Well, I am not so foolishly brave as to ask whether I would be one whose opinion would matter to you.” They had reached the rear-most room of the first floor, where a long sideboard held not only a punch bowl but a number of platters of cheeses, meats, breads and cakes. “No, pray, do not answer. Tell me instead what to put on your plate.”

He picked up a glass plate and began to fill it with various delicacies, though Julia doubted that her nerves would allow her to eat much, if any, of them. She would have protested that she did not want to eat, but she knew that being alone with him in the dining area was far better for her purposes than returning to the card rooms. Once he had filled two plates and added cups of punch to them, Stonehaven led her back into the entryway and up the stairs to the second floor. Julia followed him, surprised.

“But where are we going?”

“Only a quieter place to talk and eat.” He gestured toward a low velvet sofa against the wall at the side of the stairs. A potted palm shielded it partially from view, and it offered a comfortable, quiet place to sit.

Julia sat down, taking her plate, and he sat down beside her, much closer than was proper. It was odd to have a strange man this close to her. She was very aware of the heat of his body, the breadth of his shoulders, the faint scent of his masculine cologne. She had never thought about his smelling this good, she thought. Impatiently, she called back her errant thoughts; she had to concentrate on her purpose.

“Are there gaming rooms up here?” she asked, more to keep her thoughts on track than to satisfy any real curiosity.

“Yes, these rooms are where you find those who like to dip deep.” He gestured toward the two closed doors that lay in front of the stairs. “That room over there, where the door is open, is simply a sort of sitting room, where one can pause to collect oneself between games. I don’t believe that I have ever seen anyone in it.”

“The gamesters here do seem preoccupied with their cards,” Julia admitted, taking a bit of cheese on a cracker and finding it quite tasty. Perhaps she was hungrier than she had thought.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Julia glanced at him. He was watching her eat, his own food untouched on the plate, and the heat in his eyes sent a shiver straight through her. His gaze slid down from her mouth, taking in the long curve of her white throat, and came to rest upon the swell of her breasts above the dress. Julia resisted the impulse to tug the dress higher. She had more than once surprised a hot, secret look on the face of one of her admirers, but none of them had ever looked at her like this—as if they had a right to do so, as if they were picturing her without any clothes on at all. And certainly none of their love-struck gazes had ever made her feel this strange combination of shivers and heat inside.

She swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. She tried to think what a woman of the sort she was playing would do, but her mind was curiously sluggish. He reached over and ran his forefinger down her cheek and across her jawline to her chin.

“You are a beautiful woman.”

“Th-thank you.” His skin felt like fire upon hers, and Julia had the sudden, awful feeling that she was in over her head.

“I noticed you as soon as I walked in.”

“Indeed?” Now his finger was tracing the line of her throat down to the ridge of her collarbone.

“Indeed. I believe you noticed me, too. Am I right?”

“I saw you, yes.” Julia struggled to pull her thoughts together. She could not let herself be distracted. She had achieved her goal of catching Lord Stonehaven’s interest. Now she had to use it to her advantage. She could not sit here like a mannequin, saying only yes and no.

What would a woman such as she was supposed to be do? A crafty, experienced sort. The first thing, she thought, was that she had to be in control. It would never do to let a man like Stonehaven think that he could win this easily, that he could disturb her thoughts or monopolize her time or expect her to give in to him. For one thing, she suspected that he would lose interest more quickly. For another, it was essential for her purposes that she retain control of the situation.

Accordingly, she slid as far to the side of the sofa as she could, moving away from his hand, and whipped open the furled fan she carried. She wafted it a time or two in front of her, looking at him across the top.

“Or, at least,” she continued in as bored a voice as she could muster, “I believe that it was you. I barely glanced at the door, you see.”

“I see.” Oddly enough, he seemed amused by her answer. Julia decided that she had made the right move. He must be pleased that she was planning to provide him with something of a chase. No doubt, with his looks and wealth, women fell all too easily at his feet.

She stood up. “Thank you for showing me about a little and for getting me a plate of food. I confess I was feeling a trifle peckish. Now I am ready to return to the tables.”

“Of course.” He rose, too and, taking her half-finished plate from her, set both their dishes down on the small occasional table nearby. “Allow me to escort you to a table. What is your game? I believe you were observing a table of piquet.”

“Actually, I am most fond of loo,” she replied. “Do you play, Mr.—I am sorry, I am afraid that I don’t know your name. Most improper, I’m sure, to be conversing with you, not even knowing your name.” She cast up a twinkling sideways glance at him, as though to say that improper behavior was not unknown to her.

“Deverel Grey, ma’am. And yours?”

She was so startled at his calling himself by his name and not his title that she forgot for an instant what name she had chosen for herself. “What? Oh, excuse me…” She affected a little chuckle. “I fear my mind was wandering.” She hoped he would be piqued by her inattention, not suspicious that she was making up a name. “Jessica Nunnelly.” She knew that she had said the wrong last name, but it had been the only thing she could think of. A moment afterward she remembered that she had told her cousin that she would use Murrow. Ah, well, hopefully Geoffrey and Lord Stonehaven would never discuss the matter.

She took his arm, and they went downstairs. She was somewhat uncertain of his interest when he left her and chose to play at a game in the smaller connecting room, but she was reassured when she saw that he had taken a seat from which he had a direct line of sight of her. More than once, as she played, she felt his gaze upon her. It was a little difficult to keep her mind on her cards. She had never in her life played with a table of only men, let alone for stakes as high as these. Nor was she accustomed to hearing men talk with little regard for her presence. She lost, but, then, she had expected to do so; she had brought an ample amount of money with her. It was more of a problem dealing with one or two of the men, who behaved with a freedom and familiarity that she was not accustomed to. In retrospect, she was faintly surprised to realize that Lord Stonehaven had acted with a great deal more gentility.

Why had he not used his title? Was he afraid that it would make her chase him for his money? It was possible, she supposed, that he was displaying a certain modesty, even courtesy, so that a low-born sort such as she must appear to be would not be intimidated by his stature—but that seemed unlikely. He was far too arrogant a man for something like that.

She grew tired of playing cards, and her nerves were beginning to fray. Julia decided that it was time for her to leave. It was a gamble, for once she was gone, he might forget her, but she was hoping that her departure would, instead, leave him wanting more. If nothing else, it should demonstrate to him that she was not overly interested in him, that she did not care to stay to see if he would talk to her again. She scribbled a note to Cousin Geoffrey, saying that she was taking a hackney home and not to worry about her, and gave it to one of the waiters to take to him in the other room.

Then she rose to her feet, saying, “I am sorry, gentlemen, I fear I am somewhat tired. I believe I will call it a night.”

It had not occurred to her that one of the other players, a man who had directed several overly warm comments to her tonight, would rise, also. “Allow me to escort you home, ma’am.”

Julia shook her head quickly. “No, thank you. That won’t be necessary, although it was most kind of you to offer.”

She turned away dismissively and started toward the door, but her admirer did not take the hint. He followed her, saying, “You must allow me to. It is not safe for a woman alone on the streets this late.”

“I shall take a hackney,” Julia countered. “Please stay and enjoy your game.”

“There is other game that I find much more interesting,” he said with a wolfish grin.

Julia did not reply, merely turned away coolly and asked the footman to fetch her cloak and gloves. She had to wait for the footman to return from the cloakroom with her things, and her suitor waited with her. Would this importunate fellow follow her into the street?

When the footman returned with her cloak and held it out for her, the man seized it and held it up for her. Julia cast him a freezing look. There was a movement behind her, and as she turned to see what it was, a male voice said, “Sorry, sir, the lady is already committed to me for escort home.”

She looked up into Stonehaven’s face. He was gazing at the other man with a cold stare, his hands outstretched to take the cloak. For a moment her swain did not move, his face set in obdurate lines. Then, with ill grace, he handed over the cloak to his rival.

“Of course, Lord Stonehaven,” he said with a trace of bitterness. “I did not realize that this bird of paradise belonged to you.”

Julia could not suppress a gasp of astonished anger. Stonehaven’s jaw tightened.

“Since she is a woman,” Stonehaven said, “not a cat or a piece of jewelry, I would hardly say that she ‘belongs’ to me. However, Miss Nunnelly has favored me by allowing me to take her home this evening.”

“Of course. Women of her sort always prefer a greater income.”

“I shall choose to ignore that insult this time,” Stonehaven said in clipped tones. “However, if you offer another to me or to Miss Nunnelly, you shall find that I am not so lenient.”

Stonehaven turned without waiting for a reply and draped the cloak around Julia’s shoulders.

“Thank you.” Julia kept her voice cool and calm. She was not about to let it show that the man’s insult had jolted her. Instead she turned toward the persistent suitor and said, “I think you will find that what women of any station prefer is courtesy.”

She swung around, taking her gloves from the footman, and walked out the door, which the footman jumped to open for her. She heard Lord Stonehaven’s chuckle behind her as he followed her, pulling on his own gloves.

“A wicked riposte, Miss Nunnelly.”

“And quite true, my lord.” She was glad that the obnoxious fellow, for all his other faults, had at least spoken Stonehaven’s title. Now she would not have to worry about slipping up. “I wonder how it was that the plain Mr. Grey became Lord Stonehaven.”

“I was Mr. Grey a number of years before I was Stonehaven,” he replied easily, coming up beside her and taking her elbow in his hand. “Though I do hope that no one referred to me as plain Mr. Grey.”

Julia could not hold back a smile at his words. “I am sure that they did not, my lord.”

“It was precisely for that reason that I said nothing about Stonehaven—to avoid all this ‘my lord’-ing. My friends call me Deverel, or Dev.”

“I would not think we have known each other long enough to count as friends.”

“But surely rescuing you from that fellow should make you deem me a friend.”

Julia glanced up to find him smiling down at her. It had never occurred to her that her nemesis would possess a charming manner or a smile that made her feel a trifle weak in the knees. He was dangerous in more ways than one, she realized with a start. She would have to watch out for him.

“Still, it seems presumptuous for a woman like me to call a lord by his Christian name.”

“Even if I give you permission? Perhaps we could exchange the favor, and I could call you Jessica.”

“Ah, but then, I fear, you would find me bold.”

“Some men appreciate boldness.”

“Are you such a man?” She gave him a challenging, provocative look, feeling once again the curious elation at the freedom she was experiencing as a “shady” woman.

“I think it would depend upon who the woman was.” The look in his eyes clearly indicated that she was one of those women whom he would appreciate.

Again Julia felt a strange lurch in her stomach, and she quickly glanced away. Looking around the quiet street, she said, “No hackneys. I had hoped to find one.”

“You must allow me to take you home.”

“Oh, no,” Julia answered hastily. That would never do. He might not know that her house had been the home of the Armiger family for the past hundred and fifty years, but he would certainly know that it was not the sort of house in which a woman of her supposed type lived. “It’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

Julia stopped dead still and gave him a pugnacious look. “And I refuse.”

He stared at her for a moment, nonplussed, then laughed. “My dear Miss Nunnelly, you are one of a kind. And to think I almost did not come tonight—it is enough to give one the shivers! A hackney it shall be. But I think we will have better luck if we turn up and go over a street or two.” He steered her across the street and up a narrow side lane.

Julia strolled along beside him, uncertain as to exactly what she should do to make things go as she wished. There was something quite unnerving about his physical presence—the nearness of his body and its latent strength, the warmth and firmness of his fingers upon her arm—yet at the same time it was exciting. She supposed it was the excitement of the game: pitting her wits against his, the lure of winning, the fear of exposure. Whatever it was, she had been unprepared for the exhilaration she felt.

Stonehaven’s steps slowed as they neared the next, busier street, and Julia glanced up at him questioningly. He came to a halt, turning to face her. His hands went to her waist and pulled her closer. Julia’s breath caught in her throat; suddenly her heart was thundering. Reflexively, she brought her hands up to his chest as though to hold him off, but there was no strength in her hands. She could feel the heat of his body even through his clothes, the steady thrum of his heart.

“I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said in a low voice.

She wanted to return a quip, but the words stuck in her throat. His face loomed closer, filling her vision. Then his lips were on hers, hot and soft, pressing against her, opening her mouth. Julia stiffened in surprise as his tongue swept inside her mouth. None of her suitors’ kisses had prepared her for anything like this. Fire sizzled along her nerves and slammed into her abdomen. Her muscles suddenly turned to wax. His arms went around her tightly, pulling her into him. His body was amazingly hard against her own softness, all bone and sinew, and the difference was thrilling. His mouth possessed her, taking ownership; his hand cupped her bottom and pressed her into him. She could feel him throbbing against her and the insistent pressure of his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks.

Julia’s whole body trembled under the storm of sensation, and all she could do was curl her fingers into his lapels and hold on for dear life. He made a sound of male satisfaction deep in his throat as he felt the heat surge through her body.

Finally he lifted his head and looked down at her, his dark eyes glittering fiercely. “Jessica…”

Desire slammed through Stonehaven like a fist at the sight of her face, soft and glowing. She had the dazed look of a woman who had just discovered passion, and though his mind knew that it must be artifice, for she was obviously a woman accustomed to men, his body responded to the lure. She was, indeed, incredibly beautiful, and he had wanted her from the moment he saw her, but now the need to have her was fierce, undeniable. He would not be at ease again, he knew, until this bewitching creature was in his bed, turning into fire beneath his hands and mouth.

Julia saw the heavy passion in his face, the sudden, unmistakable determination to have her. It was what she had wanted to arouse in him, but the reality of it sent a thrill of unease through her. For the first time doubt assailed her: What if she could not control this situation? What if she could not leash and use the need that raged in him?

The sudden trepidation was enough to cut through the fog that had seemed to possess her mind. She stepped back abruptly, one hand going to her stomach as if to still the tumult inside her.

“No.” He reached for her, but she quickly moved another step, and he stopped. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”

“I cannot.” She glanced wildly up the street and saw, like a gift of fate, a hackney rolling slowly along the cross street. She lifted her hand and waved, calling out.

The driver on his high perch peered down the street toward them and obligingly stopped. Julia started toward it, but Stonehaven laid a hand on her arm, stopping her.

“No, do not go yet.”

“I must.”

“Let us just walk a little longer.”

She arched her brows. “I know where your ‘walking’ leads, my lord.”

“Is that so bad a thing?” he countered softly. “You did not seem to think so a moment ago.”

“I am not a prize so easily won,” she responded. “I fear you will find me cheap.”

“Never.”

She shook her head and started to pull away. His fingers tightened.

“At least give me your address, so that I may—”

“I cannot.”

“Why? Have you a husband at home?” Anger roughened his voice.

“No. Please, just let it be.”

“But how will I find you? When will I see you again?”

She looked up at him. His face was hard and fierce, as if the hunger in him had peeled back the layer of easy charm and exposed the powerful reality beneath. His words were not so much a question as a demand.

Julia willed a saucy smile onto her face. She felt as if she were baiting a bear. “I am quite partial to gaming, as you know.”

Then she tugged away and, lifting her skirts to her ankles, ran toward the waiting carriage.

3

“Weren’t you scared?” Phoebe asked, leaning forward to peer into Julia’s face as they walked. They were taking their usual morning constitutional through Hyde Park, and Julia had given her sister-in-law a carefully expurgated account of what had happened the night before when she met Lord Stonehaven. “I can’t imagine talking to him. Was he purely evil?”

“Well, no,” Julia admitted. “He was rather charming, actually. It makes sense, of course, when you think about it. If he were obviously wicked, people would have realized that he was lying about Selby. But because he seems gentlemanly and engaging, one assumes he is telling the truth, that he has pure motives.”

“Mmm. I suppose so.” Phoebe looked disappointed. “I guess I had begun to picture him wearing horns and a tail.”

Julia smiled. “Me, too. But you have met him, have you not?”

“A few times. He and Selby were not close friends, not as Selby was with Varian, say, or Fitz,” she said, naming the other two men who had been trustees of Thomas St. Leger’s trust, along with Selby and Lord Stonehaven. “They had been friends when they were younger, and, of course, they met at their club and parties. But those last few years, Selby spent most of his time at home, you know.”

That fact, Julia knew, had been because of Phoebe. Selby had been a little wild in his youth—not only playing pranks such as the ones he had attributed to Jack Fletcher, but also gambling and drinking too much. But after he fell in love with Phoebe, his life had changed. He had settled down at home in Kent, and had become much more serious and attentive to the business matters of the estate. Selby would travel to London sometimes on his own, and occasionally he and Phoebe would go up for a round of parties and such, but, especially after the birth of their son, they lived a quiet country life. Unfortunately, it had been Selby’s wilder, younger times that people had remembered when Stonehaven had accused him of thievery.

“Stonehaven was pleasant enough,” Phoebe continued, her brow wrinkling. “A little remote and stiff, I thought. We never talked long. I always thought he found me boring.”

“Nonsense,” Julia replied stoutly, although she could understand, deep inside, how some could find Phoebe’s sweet personality a trifle insipid. “If he did, then it was he who was to blame, not you.”

“I was always glad when he moved on to talk to someone else. He made me a trifle…uncomfortable.”

Stonehaven had made her a trifle uncomfortable, too, Julia thought, but not, she suspected, in the way he had affected Phoebe. He had unsettled her, brought out strange responses that both puzzled and surprised her. No one had ever kissed her the way Lord Stonehaven had last night—one of the things she had been careful to not tell Phoebe—and the way she had felt when he did so shocked her. Her body had raged with all sorts of wild sensations, and she had wanted, shockingly, to feel more of them. Julia wondered if that made her a wicked person. Was that how “loose” women felt? And was it those feelings that made them abandon all propriety?

What was most disturbing to her was that she had felt those things with Lord Stonehaven. She hated him! Yet when he kissed her, when he crushed her body against his and his mouth consumed her, she had melted. How could a man she despised have made her feel that way?

The only answer she could find was that it was the kiss, not the man, that had made her react so strangely. She had not felt such a kiss before; gentlemen didn’t kiss that way, or at least they did not kiss ladies like that. No doubt it was part of the licentious life Lord Stonehaven lived, sinful knowledge that he had gained with women of dubious repute. It was probably the very sinfulness of the kiss that had rocked her. Their vicar, in his sermons, often warned of the temptations of sin, of the lure that evil held for humans. Julia had not really understood it before, but now she did. That kiss had tempted her, had made her feel and act in a way she would never have dreamed she could, had overridden, at least for a moment, her thorough dislike of Lord Stonehaven. She supposed that if any other man had kissed her in that way, she would have felt the same. She had a tendency toward lewd behavior, apparently.

Well, she knew now what she had to watch out for, Julia thought. Next time she would be prepared for that kiss, and she would stand firm against it. She would not let herself be swept into such a maelstrom of pleasure.

“Will you see him again?” Phoebe asked now.

“Oh, yes,” Julia responded quickly. “I mean, well, I shall have to, of course. Last night was just the beginning. I wanted to catch his interest, that was all. I didn’t expect to gain any knowledge. It will take a little while to get my hooks firmly into him, and then I will begin to reel him in.”

Phoebe giggled. “Honestly, Julia, you do say the funniest things. You make him sound as if he were a fish.”

“Well, and so he is,” Julia responded. “A prize fish, whom I intend to hang on our wall.”

“Are you—will you go back to that place?”

“I shall have to. I have no other way to meet him. Naturally I couldn’t tell him where we live.”

“Oh, no,” Phoebe agreed with a little gasp of horror. “When will you go back? Tonight?”

“No,” Julia replied reluctantly. She wanted very much to return to Madame Beauclaire’s tonight—only because she was filled with eagerness to get the truth out of Stonehaven, she told herself—but she knew that to do so would ultimately work against her. “I cannot let him think that I am eager to see him again. Men like a chase, I understand, and Stonehaven seems to me to be a man who likes it particularly. I have to build up his anticipation, make him begin to worry that he will not see me again. Then, when he does see me, he will be much more enthusiastic.”

Phoebe nodded. “I’m sure you are right. I am merely impatient. I want so much to hear his confession.”

“I think I shall return on Friday. That will give him two days to stew and wonder. How does that sound?”

“I don’t know. I was never much good at that sort of game. The only man I cared about was Selby, and I wanted to see him so much that I could not pretend otherwise.”

Julia smiled at Phoebe’s slightly guilty expression and reached out to link her arm through hers. “’Tis just that you are too honest and good a person to prevaricate, my love. It rather makes you wonder about me, doesn’t it—that I find it so easy to do so?”

“Julia! Don’t say such things!” Phoebe would never allow any negative words about one of those she loved, even from the loved one herself.

“Lady Armiger!” A man’s delighted voice came from the left of them. Phoebe and Julia turned to see a man and woman walking toward them. The man was smiling delightedly. The woman looked frozen in stone. “Miss Armiger,” the man continued. “How wonderful to see you. I had no idea that you were in town.”

“Varian.” Phoebe smiled, holding out her hand. “How good it is to see you. But how can it be that we have become Lady Armiger and Miss Armiger, when before we were Phoebe and Julia with you?”

Varian St. Leger had been a good friend of her husband’s, and he had visited many times at their home. At the time of the scandal, Varian had been one of the few who had not been immediately convinced of Selby’s guilt. “I cannot believe it of Sel,” he had often said. “I know the evidence looks black, but, damme, it just seems impossible.” They had seen little of Varian the past three years, though he had stopped in once or twice when he had been by to see young Thomas. Being Thomas’s cousin, he had taken on the responsibility of visiting with Thomas and his mother as Selby had formerly done.

“Phoebe, then.” Varian took her hand, smiling down warmly at her. “I did not wish to presume. And Julia.” He took her proffered hand next, smiling. “I have been lax this year, I am afraid. I haven’t visited Thomas even once. It is fortunate that he and his mother are in London this summer.”

“Yes, of course.” Phoebe cast a rather timid glance at the woman who was standing stiffly beside Varian, not saying a word. “How do you do, Mrs. St. Leger?”

Pamela St. Leger did not speak, merely gave Phoebe a short nod, her face not softening even slightly. Pamela, Thomas’s mother, had been long and loud in her condemnations of Selby. Julia had heard that she had wanted to sue Selby’s estate for the monies that had been removed from the trust. However, the decision had not been up to her, of course, but to the trustees, and they had not done so—due primarily, Julia felt sure, to Varian St. Leger’s influence. All Pamela had been able to do was cut them socially, and that she had proceeded to do with a vengeance. She had refused to attend any gathering where Phoebe or Julia were in attendance, and had been heard to declare at the slightest provocation that she was sure she did not know how either woman dared to show her face anywhere. She had even gone so far as to move her patronage each Sunday from St. Michael’s in Whitley, the local village, to St. Edward’s in Marsh-burrow, on the other side of the St. Leger estate. Julia suspected that her move had been at least in part influenced by the fact that the vicar’s wife, Mrs. Fairmont, had refused to knuckle under to Pamela’s social edict to shun the Armigers.

“Good morning, Mrs. St. Leger,” Julia spoke up, favoring Pamela with a blazing smile.

Pamela turned and nodded briefly toward her, as well, her nostrils flaring slightly. Julia knew that Pamela had disliked her long before the scandal, and Julia thought that she had seized the opportunity of the scandal to avoid being in Julia’s company. A raven-haired woman who had been considered a beauty in her day, Pamela did not like to be in the same room with Julia. She could perhaps fool herself into thinking that she was more attractive than the quiet Phoebe, but she could not compete against Julia’s vivid looks. Personally, Julia found life much more pleasant without Pamela’s presence, and she and Phoebe had not wanted to socialize the past few years, anyway, but she did resent the fact that Pamela had forbidden her son Thomas ever to fraternize with them. Thomas was quite fond of all the Armigers and had frequently visited Selby. Julia had come to regard him as something of a younger brother. Thomas was the only other person besides Phoebe and Julia and their servants who was convinced that Selby had not stolen the money from the trust. Julia found it cruel that Thomas’s mother had denied him the company of the other people who shared his love and his mourning for Selby.

Of course, Thomas disobeyed his mother, sneaking over to visit Julia and Phoebe whenever he got the chance. He had joined with them in deciding that Lord Stonehaven must have been the real thief and the engineer of Selby’s downfall. Stonehaven had visited him the least of his trustees and was, in Thomas’s opinion, a “cold fish.” It was Thomas who had first suggested that they capture Stonehaven and force him to reveal his criminal behavior, and he had wanted badly to play a part in the seizure. It had seemed a stroke of good luck when his mother had decided to go to London for the Season, and he had begged and pleaded and cajoled until finally Pamela had broken down and agreed to let him accompany her.

He had thought he would be easily able to join Julia in the escapade, but he had found out, much to his chagrin, that he was far more imprisoned in the house in London than he had been in the country. He was under the constant careful eye of the London tutor his mother had hired, and there were no afternoon rides, since he had had to leave his horse in the country. As a result, Julia had seen him only twice since they had come to London. Of course, she was glad now, considering the turn her plans had taken. Thomas, though only fourteen, would probably have gotten terribly male and disapproving about it all.

Her eyes twinkling devilishly, Julia went on speaking to the stony Mrs. St. Leger. “Odd, isn’t it, that we should run into one another here in London, when we never see each other in Kent, even though we live only miles apart?” When Pamela said nothing, merely raised her eyebrows, Julia pressed, “Don’t you think so, Mrs. St. Leger?”

Pamela stirred uneasily, glancing at Varian, who was watching her. “Indeed,” she said through tight lips.

“Phoebe and I were remarking only the other day that we rarely see you anymore. We hoped that you were not eschewing social life, as some matrons do in widowhood. Phoebe thought it was probably that you, as she is, are still in mourning for your husband, but I told her I thought that could not be the reason, for you were frequently at parties after he died, and I was sure that you had put off mourning—oh, within a few months after Walter’s funeral.”

Bright spots of color leaped into Pamela’s cheeks at Julia’s words, delivered with a wide-eyed innocence that did not fool the other woman for a minute. She knew as well as Julia that there had been a great deal of talk about the brevity of her mourning for Walter St. Leger, which Phoebe’s presence in her black widow’s weeds three years after Selby’s death seemed to underscore.

“Yes. Walter never liked black on a woman,” she said in a clipped voice, driven out of her disdainful silence by the need to justify herself.

“Ah, of course.” Julia smiled with understanding. “I’m sure Walter would have been very pleased to see you. I told Phoebe I did not think it was mourning that kept you away from the small social pleasures of Whitley. I was sure it was probably some physical infirmity. I hope not lumbago—that can be a terribly painful thing, I understand.”

Pamela’s eyes shot fire. “No, I assure you it was not ‘physical infirmity’ that kept me away. Indeed, I attend many soirees and balls, Miss Armiger.”

“Indeed? Why is it that we never see you, then?” Julia wrinkled her brow in puzzlement.

“Are you determined, then, to hear it?” Pamela snapped. Julia wondered if she realized how unattractive she looked like this, her features sharp and hawklike, her eyes narrowed, and her lips, never full, reduced to a mere line. “I do not go where you are received, as you no doubt know. No woman of any standing would.”

Varian’s expression of shock and distaste as he looked at Pamela was precisely what Julia would have wished for. But all her satisfaction was wiped out when she heard Phoebe’s sharp intake of breath and turned to see the hurt on her face at Pamela’s verbal slap.

“Phoebe, I’m sorry,” Julia said softly, curling her arm around her sister-in-law’s waist.

“Mrs. St. Leger!” Varian snapped. “Really! I am quite sure you did not mean that.” He glared at her significantly.

“Everyone knows it!” Pamela retorted defiantly, still too caught up in her anger to care that she looked mean and spiteful in front of her son’s trustee.

“Phoebe, please, accept my apology,” Varian went on, turning abruptly from Pamela toward Phoebe. “I assure you that most people do not feel that way.”

Phoebe smiled at him. “You are most kind, Varian. I know that you do not.”

“Indeed not. I hope you will allow me the honor of calling upon you while you are in London.”

“Of course.”

He turned to Julia and made his apologies and goodbyes, adding that he trusted her to “take care of Lady Armiger.” Then he hustled Pamela away.

Julia turned to Phoebe. “Oh, Fee, I’m sorry. I should never have goaded her like that. I was so intent on forcing her to admit what a witch she is that I didn’t even think about you. I should have known it would hurt you. It is simply that I am so thick-skinned, you see. No, please, don’t cry.”

Phoebe shook her head, giving Julia a shaky little smile. Her eyes sparkled with sudden unshed tears. “No. It isn’t that. It was your calling me ‘Fee.’ Selby always used to call me that. Remember? He was so fond of pet names.”

“Yes, I remember.” Julia felt tears clogging up her own throat at the memory. Even Julia he had shortened to Julie, and he had almost never called Phoebe by her full name. “He called you ‘Fee’ and ‘Delight.”’

A little noise escaped Phoebe at her words. “Oh, Julia! How can it still hurt after all this time?”

“I don’t know.” Julia hugged the other woman tightly. “Sometimes I think that it will always hurt, at least a little.”

“I want to prove that Selby didn’t do it,” Phoebe said in a fiercer voice than Julia had ever heard from her. “I want to prove that it was all Stonehaven’s doing and make that dreadful woman eat every nasty word she’s ever said about Selby or you or me!”

“We will,” Julia promised, setting her jaw. “We will.”

Julia was in the sitting room the next day, her fingers busy letting down the hem on another one of Phoebe’s dresses so that she could wear it. Her mind was occupied with her plan to manipulate Lord Stonehaven into confessing to his crime. She knew that she could not allow herself to be distracted again, as she had been last time by his kiss. She had to be firm and in control, and she had decided that the best way to do that was to plan the things she would say and do to lead him to talk, down to every last word and gesture.

The housekeeper, a fussy, plump woman in a white mob cap and an equally snowy apron, was standing beside Phoebe while Phoebe went over the menus for the rest of the week. Phoebe was engaged in another of a seemingly unending series of struggles over what should be served.

“You see, Mrs. Willett,” Phoebe was saying now, “I don’t really like duck.”

“But, my lady, duck was always one of the master’s favorites.” Mrs. Willett had been used to ruling the London house largely unchecked for over thirty years. The butler might go back and forth from the country house in Kent to London with the family, but the housekeeper stayed in charge in London over the long months—and even years, lately—when the family was not there, running a skeleton staff to keep the house in shape. Her guiding rule in any situation was to do exactly as she had always done.

Julia glanced over at Phoebe, who was biting her lip and looking worried, and Julia knew that Phoebe was, as Mrs. Willett had intended, feeling like an unloving, ungrieving widow for not wanting to eat one of her dead husband’s favorite dishes.

“Nonsense, Mrs. Willett,” Julia stuck in crisply. “You and I both know that duck was our father’s favorite dish, and that is why you served it all Selby’s life. Besides, it doesn’t really matter whether Selby liked it or not. The point is that Lady Armiger does not like it. She does not want it on the menu, and I see no reason why it should be there, when your employer does not wish it. Do you?”

A look of hurt that would have crumpled Phoebe’s opposition settled on the older woman’s face. She pushed her spectacles back up her nose and said in a resigned voice, “Very well, Miss Julia—if you want it that way. I do work for your family, have done so for over thirty years.”

“Yes, I know, and an excellent housekeeper you are,” Julia agreed to soothe the woman’s wounded feelings.

“My, yes,” Phoebe agreed eagerly, a tiny frown of concern creasing her forehead. “I did not mean to imply that there was anything wrong with the way you perform your duties.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Julia jumped in before Phoebe could get carried away with her assurances and wind up telling the woman to leave the duck on the list. “I am sure Mrs. Willett understands that you merely want a change in the menu. It is the sort of problem at which she is quite adept, isn’t it, Mrs. Willett?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Willett agreed, smiling. Julia knew that in a few more minutes the menu change would have become her own idea, and woe to any of the kitchen staff who objected to it.

At that moment, there was the rumble of carriage wheels coming to a stop in front of the house. Julia and Phoebe glanced at each other in surprise. A visitor to their house was a rare occurrence—they had had no callers since they came to London three weeks ago, except for young Thomas every now and then when he could sneak away from his tutor. Julia stood up and crossed over to the windows. A sporty curricle had stopped on the pavement, and as she watched, a lad in livery hopped down from the back and hurried forward to take the horse’s head. A man, dressed elegantly and severely in black and white, was climbing down from the open vehicle. Julia’s mouth opened in horror.

“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, her hand flying to her throat. She stepped back quickly.

Phoebe was on her feet in an instant, hurrying toward her in concern. “What’s wrong? Who is it?”

“Lord Stonehaven,” Julia croaked. “He’s found out.”

“What?” Phoebe whirled and looked out the window, then turned back to Julia. “Oh, no! What shall we do?”

The sound of the front door knocker resounded through the house. Julia started toward the sitting room door, the only thought on her mind to tell the footman not to answer the door. But that efficient servant was already swinging open the front door, and Julia ducked back inside the room.

“Miss Julia, what is it?” the housekeeper asked, concerned by the look of fear on Julia’s face.

“A visitor. Tell him we aren’t home, Mrs. Willett,” Phoebe suggested, her face pleading.

How could he have found out who she was? There had been no one at Madame Beauclaire’s who knew her, except Geoffrey, and Geoffrey would never have told Stonehaven who she really was.

“He must—he must be coming to pay a call,” Julia stated, reason overcoming her initial spurt of fear. “Somehow he’s found out that we are here. That’s all, I’m sure.” But it would still be disaster if he saw her here!

She could hear the footman walking toward the door, Stonehaven’s steps right behind him. In another few seconds he would be here. She glanced around wildly. There was no other way out of the room. Aside from slamming the door in his face, there was no way to avoid his seeing her. Julia’s mind raced.

“Pardon me, Mrs. Willett,” she murmured as she reached over and pulled the woman’s spectacles from her face, followed by her large mob cap. Grabbing her own shawl from the back of her chair, Julia dived behind the chair just as the footman stepped into the room.

“Lord Stonehaven, my lady,” he droned.

4

Phoebe numbly turned toward the door, where Lord Stonehaven stood right behind the footman.

“My lord,” she said through bloodless lips, struggling not to look toward the chair where Julia had disappeared nor at her astonished housekeeper, who stood clutching at her disarranged hair and blinking.

At that moment Julia popped up from behind the chair like a jack-in-the-box. Phoebe let out a gasp, quickly smothered. Julia had wrapped the long shawl loosely around her, effectively hiding her figure. Atop her head she wore the housekeeper’s outmoded mob cap, covering up every last strand of her distinctive red hair. The older woman’s glasses were perched on her nose, turning her lovely blue eyes strangely large and swimming. To add to the disguise, she was frowning, her jaw set and her mouth narrowed into a thin line.

Stonehaven’s brows rose slightly at the sudden appearance of this apparition, and he faltered in the midst of saying Phoebe’s name. He added tentatively, “And, uh, Miss Armiger?”

“Yes!” Julia barked in a hoarse voice. “That is who I am—not that it’s any concern of yours.”

“Julia…” Phoebe protested weakly. She disliked the man fully as much as Julia, but she could no more bring herself to be rude than she could jump off the top of the house.

“Well, ’tis true,” Julia snapped. Her heart was thundering inside her chest so loudly that she thought the others must hear it. She wished she could see Stonehaven’s face, so that she could tell whether he recognized her in her disguise or not. But with Mrs. Willett’s spectacles on, the entire room was a blur. Lord Stonehaven looked like nothing except a large smudge of black and white.

“Mrs. Willett, you may go now,” Julia said, turning in the woman’s general direction. It was not really her place, but Phoebe’s, to dismiss the servant, but Julia suspected that Phoebe was too stunned at the moment to remember to do so, and she wanted the housekeeper out of the room before she could make any remarks about her cap and glasses.

“Yes, miss.” The housekeeper, looking confused, sidled past Lord Stonehaven, feeling her way along the wall and out the door.

Julia, equally blind, edged around the chair, thinking that if she could just get around it and sit down, she would be all right despite the sorry state of her eyesight. However, she had forgotten the footstool sitting beside the chair, and she stumbled over it, sending the stool flying. She let out a cry as pain shot up her foot, and she staggered, bumping into the arm of a chair. That was all it took: the bump, combined with her swimming vision and the fact that she instinctively hopped off her hurt foot, made her lose her balance, and she tumbled ungracefully into the chair.

Phoebe let out a gasp, and both she and Lord Stonehaven started toward her. Julia quickly waved them away, blushing a fiery red.

“No!” She swung her legs down off the arm of the chair and sat up straight. In her embarrassment, her voice had slipped back into its normal register, but now she brought it back down to a gravelly growl. “I’m fine. Just fine. Sit down.”

Phoebe turned toward their visitor and tried to smile. It was not a successful effort. “Why—why don’t you sit there on the sofa, my lord?” she said, her voice quavering a little, and gestured toward the low velvet sofa, which lay at some distance from where Julia sat.

Julia glared in the general direction of Stonehaven. Disconcertingly, her gaze lit somewhere in the general vicinity of his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Julia asked abruptly.

Stonehaven raised his eyebrows slightly at her rudeness, but said only, “I met St. Leger at my club yesterday evening, and he told me that you were in town. I came to pay a call.”

“I realize that,” Julia retorted, increasing her scowl. She wanted to get rid of this man before he could see past her disguise and realize who she was. Otherwise, their whole plan was ruined. She could think of no better way to do that than to drive him off with rudeness. Besides, she thought, it was quite refreshing to be rude to him, especially after having to hide her true feelings toward him the other night. “What I meant was, why would you come to call on us? We cannot benefit you in any way. I think that you have done the worst that you can do to my family. Surely you cannot think that we would wish to see you. So what purpose does your visit serve?”

“You are certainly a forthright young woman, Miss Armiger.”

“Yes, unlike some people.”

“Julia…” Phoebe blushed at her sister-in-law’s bluntness.

“Why try to hide how we feel, Phoebe?” Julia asked. “I am sure that Lord Stonehaven must not be surprised to learn that we dislike him.”

“It does not surprise me, no,” he said, “though I must tell you that it does distress me. I hope you realize that I never meant either of you any ill.”

Anger blazed across Julia’s face as she said acidly, “You certainly did us ill enough by accident, then.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Finally Lord Stonehaven said, “Miss Armiger, I am not the one who brought dishonor to your family. Selby did that. I know that you loved your brother, but—”

“You’re right. I did. I still do. And I don’t know how you can have the nerve to come here today and force Phoebe and me to look at you, the man who ruined him!” She realized that the growl was slipping again in her agitation, and she stopped, clearing her throat.

“Please, Miss Armiger, do not distress yourself so much.”

“It is not I who is causing my distress!”

Lord Stonehaven sighed. “I am sorry. Obviously I should not have come. Please believe me when I say that I have no desire to cause either you or Lady Armiger pain. I—I had hoped to heal some of the rift that lies between us.”

“That will never happen.” Julia shot to her feet, glaring at him, her arms stiff at her sides. “Do you think that you can ruin my brother and then be forgiven?”

Stonehaven sighed, rising to his feet also. “No. I can see that that is too much to expect.” He turned toward Phoebe. “Lady Armiger, please accept my regards. I want you to know that if I can be of service to you in any way, you have only to call on me.”

Julia let out an inelegant snort. “She would as soon call on a snake for help.”

“I’m sorry, Lord Stonehaven.” Phoebe cast a nervous glance toward Julia. “But I think it would be best if you left now.”

“Yes, of course.” He bowed over Phoebe’s hand formally, but, after a wary glance in Julia’s direction, was wise enough not to approach her. “Good day, ladies.”

He turned and left the room. Phoebe and Julia stood frozen, listening to his receding footsteps upon the Carrera marble floor. There came the sound of the footman opening the massive front door, and a moment later it closed.

Julia ripped the mob cap off her head and slammed it down on the chair, following it with the spectacles. “Oh! I cannot believe the nerve of that man! How could he come here? How did he dare! Did he think that we would welcome him? That he could just waltz in and charm us into forgetting that he is the man responsible for Selby’s—”

Phoebe let out a little inarticulate noise of distress, and Julia was instantly contrite, “I’m sorry, Phoebe. I should not have said that. It was upsetting enough for you to have to meet that man. I should not have added to your distress. It just makes me so angry.” She slammed one fist into the other hand. “Lord Stonehaven is utterly without feeling.”

Timidly Phoebe offered, “It was rather nice of him, I suppose, to call on us. No one else does. Most people just snub us. It would have been far easier for him not to come, and no one would have thought badly of him.”

“Nice!” Julia sneered. “There was nothing nice about it. Trust me. He merely came here to gloat. Or perhaps it suited him to appear to be magnanimous. No doubt he thought we would grovel in gratitude at his being so kind as to notice us. Well! He’d better think again!”

“I am sure he has—now,” Phoebe replied dryly.

Julia glanced at her sister-in-law in some surprise, then chuckled, much of her anger draining out. Julia let out an explosive gust of air and sank back into the chair, picking up the cap and spectacles and holding them in her lap. Now that it was all over and she was no longer consumed with rage, her legs were suddenly trembling, unable to hold her up any longer.

“Oh, my,” Phoebe said, also sitting down with a plop. “I cannot imagine how you pulled that off. I was terrified when he walked into the room.”

“Do you think he knew me?” Julia asked anxiously. “I couldn’t see him. Did any expression of recognition cross his face?”

“No. He seemed only—well, appalled—whenever he looked at you. Oh, Julia!” Hysterical laughter bubbled up from Phoebe’s throat. “Julia, you cannot imagine how you looked! Your eyes so huge and blurred, like a frog’s.”

“Well, thank you very much,” Julia tried for an indignant tone, but laughter broke through.

“And that cap!” Phoebe let out a peal of laughter. “How did you ever think of it so quickly? I am sure he didn’t know whether you were a housemaid or a—a—”

“Giant frog in a dress?” Julia suggested.

They both laughed, unable to restrain themselves, relief from the last few minutes’ strain making them giddy. Phoebe described each expression that had chased across Lord Stonehaven’s face at Julia’s words, her imitations making Julia howl with laughter. It took some time before their hysteria died down into chuckles and then into sighs and, finally, silence.

“Well…” Julia said at last, rising. “I suppose I had better return these to Mrs. Willett and try to make amends with her.”

“I am sure the poor woman thinks you have gone quite mad.”

“No doubt. Ah, well, hopefully I will be able to think up an adequate story.” She stood up and started toward the door, but then stopped as a new thought hit her. “Oh, no! I daren’t see him tonight, as I had planned. Not so soon after this.”

“No. You’d best give him a few days to forget Miss Armiger’s features,” Phoebe agreed.

Julia sighed, a little surprised at how disappointed she felt. But then, she reminded herself, it was only natural—merely an indication of how eager she was to bring Lord Stonehaven to justice.

Julia let three days pass before she went again to Madame Beauclaire’s, but she found it difficult to wait. By the time the evening came around, she was fairly champing at the bit, eager to go.

She was wearing another one of Phoebe’s dresses tonight, again with a let-out hem and the modest fichu of lace at the neckline ripped out. It was a gauzy dress in a color the modiste had termed “sea foam green.” Though it did not have the tighter-fitting skirt of the dress she had worn the last time, its flowing lines clung to Julia’s slender form, and the low neckline was enough, she thought, to spark any man’s interest. Besides, it was a color that looked perfect with her auburn hair.

Tonight she returned to Madame Beauclaire’s without her cousin’s company. Geoffrey would balk, she knew, at escorting her a second time and would probably ask all sorts of awkward questions. Besides, having been there before, she did not need him now. As few women as she had seen there, she felt relatively sure that the doorman would recognize her as a customer.

Nor did she take her own carriage. It would have been handy, of course, to have Nunnelly waiting outside to take her home, but it might also interfere with her plans. Last week it had turned out very well when Lord Stonehaven had walked her out to find her a hackney. And there was always the danger that Nunnelly might balk at her going into a gaming house. Loyal as he was, he had known her since she was a toddler and had no hesitation about speaking his mind to her. He was also much too likely to give her orders, having grown accustomed to it, she thought, when he taught her to ride when she was a child. He was quite willing to break the law for her sake—he had never quailed at the thought of abducting Stonehaven—but she felt sure that he would refuse to let her put herself into a situation that might damage her reputation.

So she went to Madame Beauclaire’s in a hackney, the nerves in her stomach tying themselves into an ever-expanding knot. As she had expected, the footman at the door let her in after one quick glance, bowing deeply. She suspected that he could have said with whom she had left the other night, as well. Plying her fan to hide her nerves, she strolled along the hall, glancing into the rooms on either side.

Lord Stonehaven was not there.

Disappointed, she strolled desultorily through the tables, stopping to observe a game now and then. At one of the tables, the name Stonehaven caught her ear, and she stopped short, every nerve alert.

“What?” one of the men at the table was saying, glancing toward one of his companions. “Oh, Stonehaven, yes—no, I haven’t seen him tonight. Odd, he’s been here every night this week, it seems.”

“Yes. I’ve never known him to be so gambling mad.”

Julia turned away, smiling to herself. Gambling mad, was he? She, too, knew that it was not his custom to attend Madame Beauclaire’s or any other establishment that frequently. If he had been coming in every night, she could not help but believe that it had been because he was hoping to find her there. She had, after all, hinted that he could find her there when she had refused to give him her address.

Buoyed by this knowledge, she was able to sit down at one of the gaming tables with a suitably casual air and enter into play. He would come, she knew. Lord Stonehaven was not the sort of man to give up.

It was thirty minutes later that a masculine voice said behind her, “I see you have switched your allegiance. Not dipping too deeply, I hope.”

Julia turned, a smile blazing across her face. He had come!

“Lord Stonehaven.” She realized that she had probably looked too eager to see him. It never did to let a man realize that one was interested in him, and of course he would be bound to think that her broad smile was from pleasure at seeing him, not triumph that he had walked into her web. She schooled her voice to something slightly warmer than indifference. “So you are here again. I had wondered if I would see you tonight.”

“I came in the hopes of finding you here, Miss Nunnelly.”

He flashed his charming smile at her, and Julia’s eyes were drawn to his lips, full and wide against strong white teeth. She had forgotten exactly how handsome he was up close. She moved toward him.

“I hope I am not taking you away from a lucky streak,” he said. “Would you like to stay?”

“What? Oh.” She glanced back at the table, a little surprised to find that she had stepped away from it. “No. I was about to leave. My luck has been uniformly bad this evening.”

“I hope it was not bad luck to run into me again.”

She cast him a sparkling look. “No. I would not say it was bad.”

He looked down at her, and his eyes narrowed briefly. Fear slammed through Julia. His look was…almost suspicious.

“What?” she asked in a falsely light tone. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh.” He looked abashed. “I don’t know. I had the oddest sensation for an instant—as if I had seen you before.”

Julia forced herself to smile impishly, although her mouth had gone suddenly dry. “Indeed, sir, I do believe you have seen me before. We met here five nights ago, if I remember correctly.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, I am quite aware of that. No, I meant that you reminded me of someone else. A certain look, the way you tilted your head—but that, of course, is absurd. There is no other woman as beautiful as you.”

His words made her feel as if a tight band were encircling her chest, squeezing hard, but she managed to say, “A pretty compliment, my lord.”

“But heartfelt.” He seemed to dismiss the matter as they strolled out into the hallway. There he stopped and glanced around, then looked back at her. “I find I do not wish to stay here. Would you care to—go somewhere else?”

“I—what do you mean, my lord?” Was he suggesting that they go to his house?

Julia felt suddenly panicky. She realized that in all her thinking about how to lead him on, what to do or say in order to get him to confess, she had not really given any thought as to where it would be accomplished. She had hazily imagined them sitting in a garden or strolling along the street or something of the sort. Where did one go on assignations? She could see that her education was woefully lacking in this area. Going to a gentleman’s house would be unthinkable for a lady, but, of course, it would be entirely different for a woman of loose morals, such as she was pretending to be. That was exactly the sort of compromising position a woman such as that would get into. Still, it seemed to her that things were moving much too fast. She really did not want to be alone with Lord Stonehaven in his home.

“I thought we had agreed to cease all this ‘my lord’ing,” he told her. “My name is Deverel.”

“Yes, of course…Deverel.”

“I hadn’t really thought of where we would go. I simply realized that I would like very much not to play cards tonight. I would much rather spend the evening talking with you.”

“I have no objection to that,” Julia replied a little breathlessly.

“I have a friend whose house is always open to visitors. Actually, it is the house of a…woman of his acquaintance.”

“His mistress,” Julia replied knowledgeably. There were few ladies who did not know that gentlemen frequently made such arrangements.

Stonehaven’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “You are dangerously blunt. Yes. It is the house of his mistress, but he is nearly always there, and many of his friends, as well as her friends, of course.”

“I see.” It was not exactly a bawdy house where women of the night plied their trade, Julia thought, but it must be just a step above that—the house where a man kept his light-o’-love, and he and his friends went to drink and talk and flirt with other women who were equally free with their favors. Julia supposed she ought to be appalled at the thought of going to such a place, but instead she found herself filled with curiosity. She had never actually met a kept woman, let alone been in one’s house.

“Yes,” she continued, flashing him what she hoped was a beckoning look. “That sounds much better than staying here.”

“I am glad you agree.” He was already steering her toward the front door.

The footman fetched her cloak, and Lord Stonehaven draped it around her shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly across her skin. Julia swallowed, trying to ignore the shivery sensation his touch created in her.

They walked out into the quiet night air, and Stonehaven turned to the left. “Shall we walk? It isn’t far.”

“Yes, of course.”

They strolled along, her hand hooked in the bend of his arm. Julia struggled to think of something to say. She had spent all day, it seemed, thinking of things to say and questions to ask to lead him where she wanted to go, but now, none of those carefully planned remarks seemed to fit.

“I had hoped to find you here one of the past few nights,” Stonehaven commented, interrupting her jumbled thoughts.

“I am not quite that eager a gambler.”

“Neither am I. I came each night in the hopes of finding you.”

“Flatterer.” Julia flashed him an arch glance.

“No. ’Tis true. I am quite shameless.”

“A shocking flirt is more like it.”

“You wound me.” He put on an air of mock hurt.

“As if you did not know…”

“’Tis no flirtation to say I have been searching for you every night since we met. Ask any of my friends. They will tell you that I have shirked my social obligations dreadfully. I cried off from going to the opera two nights ago, and yesterday I stayed only fifteen minutes at Lady Abersham’s soiree.”

“All because of me?” She arched a brow. “I suppose it had nothing to do with boredom.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps that did motivate my departure somewhat.”

“Deceiver. I am, in short, a handy excuse.”

“Never that, I assure you. Rather, I think, your absence is the cause of my boredom.”

Julia laughed. “You are a clever man with words, Lord Sto—I mean, Deverel.”

“No cleverer than you,” he returned.

“Oh, dear.” Julia made a face. “No fate worse than being termed a ‘clever’ woman.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. I find there is little that cools a man’s ardor faster than discovering that a woman has a mind.”

“Perhaps some men.” He looked down into her face with a light in his eyes that sent tendrils of heat curling through Julia. He stopped, pulling her to a halt, with him. Lifting his hand, he stroked his knuckles lightly down her cheek. “Personally, I find that wit makes a beautiful face twice as alluring.”

“Indeed,” Julia answered breathlessly. She discovered that her vaunted wits had deserted her. She could only stare up into his dark eyes, every nerve in her body alive.

Softly, with his forefinger, he traced the curve of her bottom lip. “I would like to kiss you right here on the street, but I am afraid that, if I do, I will not be able to stop.”

The sound of his husky voice, the touch of his finger, faintly rough against her tender flesh, were enough to make Julia weak in the knees. She tried to pull her thoughts back together, but for a moment the best she could manage, it seemed, was to keep breathing.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said honestly, then stopped, appalled, as she realized what had slipped out of her mouth. She shook her head, stepping back.

To her surprise, Stonehaven chuckled. “Good gad, my girl, a little more of that sort of response and we shall find ourselves in a hell of a predicament.”

Julia was sure that she was blushing up to her hairline, and she was grateful for the dark. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I sincerely hope that you did,” he replied, his eyes gleaming. “Unfortunately, however, I cannot act upon it now. Shall we continue on our way?”

He held out his arm, and Julia took it self-consciously. She could not believe that she had said something so bold. It had apparently pleased him, which was good for her campaign, of course, but she found it most upsetting, because it was not anything she had planned. Why had she said that? Surely she could not really have meant it! There was something about this man that brought out the most outrageous things in her.

They continued to a brick cottage, small but attractive, where Stonehaven’s knock was immediately answered by a maid. She greeted Stonehaven with a curtsy and a friendly smile. “The master’s in the music room,” she told them, somewhat unnecessarily, as the laughter and the sound of a piano flowing from that room betrayed the location of the occupants of the house.

Stonehaven handed the maid their outer things and led Julia toward the sound of merriment. Julia stepped into the room, staring with some astonishment and awe at the scene in front of her. A man clad in a hussar’s uniform was sitting before the piano, his fingers nimbly running over the keys. A woman stood beside the piano, holding, to Julia’s amazement, a long, thin cigar in one hand. As Julia stared, she took a puff from it and let the smoke trail lazily out her mouth. There were several other men and women in the room, some standing, some sitting, and on one side of the room, in a small area cleared of furniture, there was even a couple doing some sort of jig. The room buzzed with noise; people were talking in at least two or three different conversations, and one man was trying to sing along with the music. Cigar smoke made the room hazy, and glasses with varying amounts of brown liquid were scattered across every available table.

But what attracted Julia’s attention the most, after her first hasty glance, was the fact that in a chair close to the window sat a man with a woman perched on his lap. The woman’s dress was sheer enough that one could see through it, and when she turned toward the new arrivals, Julia could plainly see the dark brown circles of her nipples. After a brief, disinterested glance, the woman turned back to her companion, and they resumed the long kiss in which they had been engaged when Julia and Stonehaven entered. Julia was sure that her own cheeks were flame red. She glanced hastily away, only to see that in another part of the room another woman sat on another man’s lap. These two were not kissing, as they were both engaged in a boisterous conversation with a man standing beside their chair. However, the man on whose lap the woman sat had one arm looped around her waist, and as Julia watched, he casually slid his hand up the woman’s body and inside the bodice of her low-cut dress, cupping her breast.

Julia swallowed, feeling acutely embarrassed. Was this how she was supposed to act? Her own dress seemed almost prim compared to the attire of the other ladies, whose bosoms seemed ready to pop out of the low necks of their dresses. All of the women were rouged and powdered, and Julia was relatively sure that the guinea gold ringlets of one of them were definitely not her own. Julia realized that her own vision of what a bird of paradise wore was far more conservative than the actuality. She could not look away from the scene, which held a certain bizarre fascination.

One of the women was running her fingers up and down the arm of her companion, who had removed his jacket and was clad only in a shirt. Now and then her fingers strayed to the front of his shirt and even inside the opening at the top to his chest underneath. He seemed to have no objection to this action at all, only paused every now and then to give her a lingering pat on her derriere. The woman whose male companion had cupped her breast showed no inclination to move his hand. Rather, she wiggled on his lap, giggling.

“Stoney!” A man hopped up from a seat near the piano, his face wreathed in smiles. “I say, old man, didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Callie, look! Here’s Stonehaven, come to pay us a call.”

His last words were directed toward the cigar-smoking woman beside the piano, who turned at his words, smiling. When she saw Julia, her eyebrows went up a trifle, and she gave her a quick, assessing look up and down. “Hallo, Dev,” she called across the room and the noise. “It’s about time you thought of your friends. And who is your guest?”

“Allow me to introduce you.” Stonehaven guided Julia across the room to the man and woman. “Miss Nunnelly, I’d like you to meet my good friends. This is the Honorable Alfred Brooks. And Miss Callandra Cooper.” He turned toward Julia. “Miss Jessica Nunnelly.”

The honorable Alfred bowed to Julia, murmuring, “Ravishing. How do you always manage to find the most beautiful females in the city, Dev?”

“Not all the most beautiful ones.” Stonehaven made a polite demurral, bowing toward Alfred’s companion. “You have captured one of the loveliest yourself.”

Callandra simpered at the compliment. Stonehaven chatted for a moment with his friend, then moved with Julia toward the edge of the room. Julia’s gaze kept returning to the woman and man on the chair by the window. They were still kissing, and now his hand was sliding up her leg, shoving aside the flimsy skirt. She looked hastily away, her heart hammering inside her chest. Was this what Stonehaven would expect of her? Doubts assailed her. She looked down at her hands, unable to meet Stonehaven’s eyes.

“Gad, it’s noisy in here,” Stonehaven said. He bent down to Julia’s ear and said softly, “Shall we go outside? There is a nice garden in the rear, and a bench where we can sit and talk.”

“Oh, yes,” Julia agreed quickly, smiling up at him. “That sounds most agreeable.”

Stonehaven took her by the hand and led her down the hallway and out a door. They entered a small side garden that smelled richly of herbs and followed a path around the house to where the garden widened out into a large array of flowers. A tinkling fountain stood in the center of the small yard, and in front of it was a stone bench.

Julia strolled with Lord Stonehaven along the path to the bench. The soft summer breeze caressed her skin, and the scent of roses hung thickly in the air. It was blessedly quiet. They sat down on the bench, and Julia noticed that Stonehaven had not let go of her hand. She tried to pull her scattered thoughts together, to recall herself to her duty and to the plans she had made. She could not let her brother down, she reminded herself, just because her sensibilities had been shocked by the scene inside. It might not be easy, but she had dedicated herself to worming the truth out of Lord Stonehaven, and she could not hesitate now. She had to go forward with her plan.

“Your friend seemed most happy to see you,” she began tentatively.

Stonehaven smiled faintly. “Alfred is a good fellow. Openhanded to a fault. It sometimes gets him in trouble, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” she asked encouragingly, thinking that friends in trouble was a good path to be following.

He shrugged. “Just the usual. He is often taken advantage of.” He shook his head and smiled at her. “Please, let us not talk of Alfred. A dull subject, I’m afraid.”

“How unkind!” Julia’s eyes sparkled at him. “Then let us talk of something more interesting. You, for instance.”

“Me! No, I am afraid that you have hit upon another dull topic.”

“I doubt that.” In her somewhat limited experience, Julia had found that most men’s favorite topic of discourse was themselves, so she did not take him at his word. “At least, I do not find it dull. I know nothing about you.”

“There is little to tell. What would you like to know?”

What you did with that money, she thought—and how you made it look as if my brother had taken it. But those were scarcely things she could say, so Julia merely smiled and said, “Why, everything. I hardly know where to begin.” She paused. “Are cards your passion? Is that how you spend your days?”

“I usually reserve it for the nights. But, no, I would not say that gambling is a passion with me.” The look in his eyes gave her little doubt as to what he did regard as a passion. “’Tis merely a pastime.”

“I see. And what do you do the rest of the time?” She hoped that he might mention the trust in his activities; she was beginning to see that it was not so easy as she had thought to direct their conversation along the path she wished.

He shrugged. “The sorts of things one does. I go to my club when I’m in London. Pay calls. I’ve been known to race my curricle or to spar a few rounds at Jackson’s. Even attend to some business affairs.” He grinned. “You see? I told you it was deadly dull.” He lifted her hand, idly stroking down the back of her hand and each finger to the tip. “I am sure it would be much more fun to talk about you. Where are you from? London?”

“No, Kent,” she replied automatically, then worried that she had been too truthful. But then, she reminded herself, thousands of people lived in Kent; he wouldn’t necessarily think of Thomas St. Leger or his nearby neighbors, the Armigers.

“Indeed? I come into Kent now and then.”

“Really?” she murmured vaguely. She was finding the way he was caressing her hand quite distracting.

“Yes. I have a ward who lives there, and I visit him sometimes.”

“A ward? You mean you are someone’s guardian? Is he a relative?”

“No. I’m not his guardian, merely a trustee of his money.” He made a dismissive gesture. “I am afraid it’s not very interesting.”

“Oh, no, it sounds quite interesting. So you invest his money and such?”

“We direct it. There are two other gentlemen who are trustees, also. But let’s not talk about that.” He brought her hand up to his lips. “I would much rather talk about you. Or not talk at all.”

Julia raised a coquettish brow. “Indeed? Do you find talking with me so boring?”

“Never.” He began to kiss each individual finger, his eyes gazing into hers all the while. “It is just that there are so many other interesting things about you.”

The warmth of his lips against her fingers sent tingles running through Julia. She did not understand how something so small could set up such a strong reaction within her. “My lord…”

“Deverel,” he murmured, turning her hand over and planting a lingering kiss on the inside of her wrist.

“Deverel…”

“What?” He was kissing his way slowly up her bare arm, his lips hot and velvety on her skin, stirring her senses.

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Why not?” She could feel his smile upon her skin.

“Uh, well, anyone could walk out here at any moment and see us.”

“That’s true. But unlikely.” He had reached the point of her shoulder and now began to trail kisses across her collarbone to her neck.

Heat welled up in Julia so quickly and explosively that it almost frightened her. “Deverel, stop.”

There was a touch of panic in her voice, and Stonehaven lifted his head, looking at her in a puzzled way.

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“I—” Julia was embarrassed by her moment of fear. She looked up at Deverel. His eyes were dark and smoldering in a way that made her insides quiver. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. She thought about their kiss a few nights earlier, and warmth blossomed in her loins.

She could not stop now, she told herself. She was not about to act the coward. She had to lead him along until she got him to talk. It was a delicate line to walk—to give just enough to keep him interested without giving in entirely. She had known that from the start. She had also known that Lord Stonehaven was no schoolboy to fall easily into her trap.

Julia drew a steadying breath and smiled at him. “Nothing. Nothing’s the matter,” she said, putting her hand behind his neck and pulling his head down.

5

Though she had experienced it before, Julia was not quite prepared for the torrent of sensations that flooded her at his kiss. She trembled beneath the onslaught, and her fingers tightened against his neck, as if to help her hold on. She had never touched a man so boldly before, and she was very aware of the warmth of his skin and the way his hair brushed her fingers.

He kissed her long and deeply, as if he could reach her very soul, and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into him until she could scarcely breathe. Their bodies strained together, a little awkwardly because of their seated positions on the bench, until finally Deverel pulled Julia onto his lap. She leaned back against his supporting arm, giving herself up to the pleasure of his kiss.

When at last he broke their contact, it was only to trail kisses across her cheek to her ear and take the fleshy lobe between his teeth, teasing it gently. She could hear the harsh rasp of his breath, and the sound was somehow exciting, too. Little shivers of delight radiated through her. She knew she must get a grip on herself, must control what was happening, but everything was too new and startling.

He began to kiss his way down the side of her neck, and as he did so, his hand slid up from her waist until it cupped her breast. Julia jumped in surprise, drawing in her breath in a gasp. “Deverel!”

“Mmm?” He continued to make his way down her neck to her shoulder.

“I—uh—” She didn’t know what to say. Her whole body was throbbing, and there was a restless ache between her legs. This was not working. She was getting in deeper and deeper without discovering anything. She gestured vaguely back toward the cottage. “The house…your friends…”

He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes glittered ferally, and his chest moved up and down in harsh, rapid pants. He glanced back toward the house where she pointed, then cast a long look at her.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “This place is hardly private enough.”

He closed his eyes as if fighting to gain control of himself. His arms loosened around her, and Julia made herself hop off his lap, a little surprised at how reluctant she was to do so.

“Wait…Jessica…” He reached toward her, but Julia took another step backward.

“Ah, no,” she said, pleased at the flirtatious tone that she forced into her voice. “I don’t know what sort of women you are used to, but I am not the kind to fall so easily into dalliance.”

Irritation flashed across his face, and for a moment Julia thought that he was about to flare up in anger, but then he sighed and leaned back against the bench, looking up at her and saying in a bantering voice, “Oh, and what kind of woman are you, then?”

“The sort who places a high value on herself,” Julia retorted coolly.

He chuckled. “Indeed. I would say that you are one whose value is higher than most.”

He stood and came to her, his lazy smile telling her that he understood her game. No doubt it was not uncommon for a bird of paradise to play a waiting game, trying to raise the stakes.

“What next, then?” he asked.

Julia hesitated. This was exactly what she wanted—to have everything in her control. But she was not sure exactly what to do. She knew that she must arrange things differently. This evening everything had been too vague, and she had left him too much in control. She should arrange their rendezvous in some private place where she could ply him with alcohol to loosen his tongue while she allowed him a few kisses and caresses. But where could such a thing take place? She obviously could not have him come to her home, and everything engrained in her by her upbringing rebelled at the thought of going with him alone to his house.

Suddenly a thought struck her, and she grinned. “Well…I must confess that I have a great desire to visit Vauxhall Gardens to view the fireworks.”

While Vauxhall Gardens was the sort of place where a lady might go, as long as she was in a well-chaperoned party, it was also a public entertainment that anyone could attend, and Julia had heard rumors that it was a favorite spot for dallying among gentlemen and ladies of the night. There were private boxes to be had, where one could have a supper catered, and if one left one’s box, there were all sorts of secluded walkways where a couple could stroll alone in the dark—or pause in the shadows for a few stolen kisses. Moreover, people often went to it in masquerade, which meant that one could keep one’s identity a secret. All these things combined to make it a perfect site for their rendezvous.

“Do you?” he responded, the glitter in his eyes telling her that he was well aware of the suitability of Vauxhall Gardens. “Certainly you must see them. Shall we say tomorrow evening?”

“No, I am afraid I could not do it tomorrow.” She must, after all, keep him dangling for a while in order to whet his appetite. “What about the day after that?”

“As you wish,” he replied graciously, inclining his head toward her.

They took their leave of their host—Julia glanced around but could not find the couple who had been so busily engaged on the chair by the window—and quit the house. Once again Julia turned down his offer to escort her home. He pressed his case for a while, but finally gave in and hailed a hackney for her. He did not try to kiss her again, but let her go with a brief, courteous brush of his lips upon the back of her hand. Julia climbed into the vehicle, and it started off.

Deverel watched the hackney until it turned the corner. Then, with a sigh, he started toward his own home. It was, in truth, an earlier hour than he generally kept when he was in the city, but he found that he had little interest in any of the pursuits with which he could pass the remainder of the night. Without Jessica Nunnelly, the evening was suddenly flat.

It was strange that it should be so, he knew. He was a man quite familiar with women, both of his own class and of the demimonde, and he enjoyed their company. However, he was well past the age of tumbling head over heels for any of them. He was quite capable of finding a new woman attractive and desirable without feeling that he could not rest until she was in his bed. It had been many years since any woman had kept him awake or sent him chasing night after night to the same place in the hope of running into her again. But that was precisely what had happened with this woman. The instant he had seen Jessica Nunnelly across the hallway in Madame Beauclaire’s, desire had surged through him. He had wanted, immediately and fervently, to sweep her up in his arms and carry her home to his bed. Amazingly enough, when he talked to her, he found that the fire in his loins continued unabated—even grew.

She was a trifle cool, yet when he kissed her, she had flamed to life. Her dress stamped her as a bird of paradise, yet her carriage and speech would have been worthy of a duchess. She had wit; she was mysterious; she stirred his blood. And he had been consumed since the moment he met her with a deep and lustful desire to make her his.

He could imagine her in his bed, naked and languid with lovemaking, that glorious auburn hair spread out upon his pillow, her blue eyes smiling up at him. Indeed, it was an image that had been plaguing him day and night for days. Now, the thought of being alone with her at Vauxhall Gardens two nights from now filled him with an impatient lust.

He didn’t know why she had insisted on meeting him there rather than letting him escort her to the Gardens any more than he could figure out why she had twice refused to allow him to escort her home. He wondered if she had a husband or another wealthy “protector.” The thought filled him with an unaccustomed jealousy. Or it could be something she did to add to her air of mystery—he had to admit that, if that was the case, it certainly worked. He was almost as consumed with curiosity as he was with lust. Where had she come from? Why had he never seen her before? Or at least heard of her!

It seemed extremely unlikely that a diamond of the first water could have been inhabiting the demimonde of London for any length of time and he had not heard of her. On the other hand, she certainly did not seem like a green lass fresh from the country. She was too sophisticated, too poised. She spoke and acted like a woman of gentility. Had he met her anywhere else in more ladylike attire, he would have assumed she was a member of the ton. There had been moments when he was kissing her when her reaction had seemed naive and inexperienced. She had even looked embarrassed when she had glanced around at the free-and-easy scene at Alfred’s house. Yet no lady would have appeared in that dress, let alone showed up unaccompanied at Madame Beauclaire’s gambling house. He told himself that she must have pretended those inexperienced reactions in an effort to increase his desire; certainly her seemingly artless responses had quickened his pulse.

It occurred to him that unraveling the mystery of Jessica Nunnelly would be a delightful way to occupy his time, and he smiled to himself. He must procure a private box and supper at Vauxhall first thing tomorrow.

Julia and Phoebe were in the drawing room conversing with Geoffrey Pemberton the following afternoon when one of the footmen announced the arrival of the Honorable Varian St. Leger and Major Gordon Fitzmaurice.

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