Edmond paused just a moment to savour the delicate lines of Brianna’s face.

A sleeping Aphrodite.

His hand reached out of its own accord to stroke the sleep-flushed cheek, only to pull back as if he were burned. He was here to rid himself of the pestilent woman, not entangle himself even deeper into her fascinating web.

With a sharp motion, he reached to grasp the quilt and jerked it aside to reveal her tiny form covered only by a thin chemise.

Brianna’s eyes flew open as her wide gaze caught sight of Edmond hovering over her.

“Edmond. For God’s sake, are you trying to give me heart failure?”

“I did warn you what would happen if you stayed beneath my roof,” he drawled, as he slid into the silken sheets behind her reclined form and gathered her trembling body to spoon intimately against his.

She stiffened in shock as his hands touched her, exploring the slender curves with the confident assurance of a well seasoned seducer.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Claiming my reward,” he murmured, nipping the curve of her neck before soothing it with his lips…

Praise for

Rosemary Rogers

“The queen of historical romance.”

—New York Times Book Review

“The grand, sweeping romance filled with passion

and adventure rides again as one of love’s leading

ladies, Rosemary Rogers, whisks us into a

tale of daring passion.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on A Daring Passion

“Returning to her roots with a story filled with

family secrets, politics, adventure and simmering

passion, Rosemary Rogers delivers what fans

have been waiting for.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on An Honourable Man

“Her novels are filled with adventure, excitement and

…wildly tempestuous romance.”

—Fort Worth Star-Telegram

“This is exactly what her many fans crave, and

Rogers serves it up with a polished flair.”

—Booklist on A Reckless Encounter

“Ms Rogers writes exciting, romantic stories…

with strong-willed characters, explosive sexual

situations, tenderness and love.”

—Dayton News

“Her name brings smiles to all who love love.”

—Ocala Star-Banner

Scandalous Deception

Rosemary Rogers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

New York Times bestselling author Rosemary Rogers has written over twenty historical and contemporary romances. Dubbed “the queen of historical romance,” she is best known for her passionate and sensual characters, and her Steve-and-Ginny series is a classic with fans. born in Ceylon, Rosemary now lives in Connecticut.

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To a new generation of readers and

to my new great-grandson

CHAPTER ONE

Russia, 1820

Tzarskoye Selo

THE JOURNEY FROM St. Petersburg to Tzarskoye Selo was hardly an arduous one during the short summer months when the roads were fair and the brisk breeze held a pleasant scent of wildflowers and rich earth.

Which was precisely why the Emperor had left the Summer Palace two days earlier, claiming that such fine weather was too fleeting not to enjoy a few days away from the pressures of Court.

Lately Alexander Pavlovich would use any excuse to flee his heavy duties, but so far as Lord Edmond Summerville was concerned, it was an Imperial pain in the ass.

Coming over the slight swell in the road, he turned his black charger on the path to Ekaterinsky, the larger of the two palaces that sprawled with a majestic beauty across the Russian countryside.

Catherine the Great’s masterpiece was a stunning sight. Over a thousand yards long with narrow wings, it was three stories high and painted a bright blue that contrasted pleasantly with the five golden domes that marked the chapel. Along the front was a line of draped female figures that glowed with a gleaming bronze in the sunlight.

Edmond did not allow his hard pace to slow as he entered the courtyard through the gilded gateway to halt directly before the entrance.

His arrival brought a dozen footmen rushing forward, taking command of his mount and that of his outriders. As the younger son of a duke, Edmond was accustomed to the pomp and ceremony that surrounded royalty and barely noted the scurrying servants as he made his way up the marble stairs and stepped into the vast vestibule.

There he was met by one of Alexander’s more trusted companions attired in a dark gold coat and striped waistcoat that would have been perfectly suitable in any London drawing room. European fashions were always preferred among Russian aristocracy.

Herrick Gerhardt was of Prussian descent and had arrived in St. Petersburg when he was barely seventeen. He possessed a gaunt countenance, a thick crop of silver hair, and piercing brown eyes that held a cold, ruthless intelligence.

This was a man who did not suffer fools gladly and had made countless enemies among the Russian court for his brutal ability to see through their treacherous deceits.

His love of his Emperor was unquestionable, but his talent at diplomacy was sadly lacking.

“Edmond, this is a most unexpected surprise,” he said in the perfect French spoken by all the Russian nobles, his gaze searching Edmond’s starkly chiseled features, the vivid blue eyes that were such a stunning contrast to his thick raven hair and arched brows, and the wide mouth that was missing his usual charming smile.

Despite being the son of an English duke, Edmond possessed the high Slavic cheekbones of his Russian mother, as well as her cleft chin, which had been driving women to distraction since he left the nursery. He also possessed a love for his mother’s land that his elder twin brother would never comprehend.

Edmond offered a respectful nod of his head.

“I fear I must beg a few moments with the Emperor.”

“Is there trouble?”

“Only of a personal nature.” The restless fear that had plagued him since receiving his brother’s latest missive clenched at his heart. “I must return to England without delay.”

The older man stiffened, his thin face hardening with displeasure. “This is an ill time for you to leave the side of the Imperial Highness,” he chided sternly. “It was assumed you were to travel with him to the Congress of Troppau.”

“An unfortunate necessity, I fear.”

“A great deal more than unfortunate. We both know that there is growing distrust of Metternich and his increasing influence on the Emperor. Your presence would assist in keeping the Prince at a distance.”

Edmond shrugged, unable to feel any disappointment that he would be missing the conference of the Quadruple Alliance in Opava. For all his love of politics and intrigues, he despised the stifling formality of diplomatic gatherings. What could be more tedious than watching puffed-up dignitaries strutting about and pinning medals upon each others’ chests?

Serious negotiations were best done behind closed doors and far from the public view.

The fact was that without Britain or France in attendance, the Congress was doomed from the beginning.

Not that he was about to mention his doubts in front of Gerhardt. The Emperor was set on this mission, and it was expected that his loyal subjects would cheer his strong determination to squash the revolution in Naples.

“I believe you overestimate my influence,” he instead murmured.

“No, I am well aware you are one of the few confidants that Alexander Pavlovich still trusts.” Gerhardt regarded Edmond with a fierce scowl. “You are in a rare position to assist your motherland.”

“Your confidence in my meager skills is flattering, but your own presence with the Emperor will dampen the ambitions of Metternich far more than my own humble self.”

A hint of frustration tightened Gerhardt’s thin face. “I must remain here.”

Edmond arched a brow. It was rare for the older man not to be at the side of his Emperor at such an important gathering.

“You suspect trouble?”

“So long as Akartcheyeff is left in charge of the country, there is always danger,” he muttered, not bothering to hide his distaste of the man who had risen to such lofty ranks despite his lowly birth. “His devotion to his Emperor is beyond question, but he will never learn that you cannot use force to earn loyalty. There is a powder keg beneath our feet and Akartcheyeff might very well be the spark that ignites disaster.”

Edmond could hardly deny the danger. He, better than anyone, understood the smoldering dissatisfaction with the Czar that infected not only the masses, but several aristocrats as well.

The last thing he desired was to leave during this volatile time, but there was no choice.

“He is…unfortunately brutal in his dealings with others,” Edmond admitted, “but he is one of the few Ministers who have proven his integrity cannot be swayed.”

Stepping even closer, Gerhardt pitched his voice so it would not carry to the two footmen on duty beside the door.

“Which is why it is so important that you remain at Alexander Pavlovich’s side! Not only do you have the ear of the Emperor, but your…network will learn of any dangers long before any official report is put on my desk.”

Gerhardt’s delicate mention of the web of thieves, prostitutes, foreigners, sailors and more than a few nobles brought a smile to his lips. Over the past eight years, he had managed to create a connection of spies that kept him aware of brewing trouble the moment it began to stir.

It was an invaluable asset to Alexander Pavlovich. One that he had come to rely upon, as did those who considered it their duty to keep him safe.

“I will ensure that my associates keep in close contact with you,” he promised, his expression somber, “but I cannot postpone my return to England.”

Realizing that Edmond would not be swayed, Gerhardt stepped back, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Should I offer my sympathies?”

“Not if I can prevent it, my friend.”

“Then God go with you.”

With a bow, Edmond turned and with swift steps headed toward the Main Staircase, a magnificent work of marble that towered for three stories. For most guests to the Palace it was the extensive collection of Chinese porcelain vases and plates displayed along the walls that captured their attention, but Edmond had always been captivated by the warm glow of sunlight that was reflected in the rich marble. A true architect could breathe life into a building without the fuss of ornamentation.

From there he moved through the Portrait Hall where the painting of Empress Catherine I held a fitting place of glory amid the seeming endless gilded carvings, then through another hall, to at last reach Alexander Pavlovich’s private study.

In contrast to the lavish public rooms, Alexander had chosen a chamber that was refreshingly small and comfortable with a view of the beautiful gardens. Ignoring the guards who stood at impassive attendance, Edmond entered the room and performed a deep bow.

“Sire.”

Seated behind the rigidly tidy desk, Alexander Pavlovich, Imperial Highness, Emperor Czar, lifted his head and offered that singularly sweet smile that never failed to remind a person of an angel.

“Edmond, join me,” Alexander commanded in French.

With his Hessians clicking against the inlaid wooden floor, Edmond moved to settle his tall, lithely chiseled form in one of the mahogany carved and gilded wood chairs, his gaze covertly studying the man who had earned his unwavering love and loyalty since the battles against Napoleon in 1812.

The Emperor possessed the imposing form of his Russian ancestors that had grown a bit stout over the passing years, and the fine, even lines of his mother’s countenance. The golden hair had receded, but the blue eyes remained as clear and intelligent as in his youth.

It was the air of weary melancholy, however, that Edmond silently considered. It was growing worse. With every passing year, the once eager, impractical idealist determined to alter Russian’s future was becoming a defeated, withdrawn man who was riddled with such distrust, of himself and others, that he retreated more and more from the Court.

“Forgive me for my intrusion,” Edmond began gently.

“There are many who I consider an intrusion, but never you, my friend.” He waved a hand to the ever-present tray on his desk. “Tea?”

“Thank you, no, I do not desire to keep you from your work.”

“Always work. Work and duty.” Alexander heaved a sigh, precisely laying down his quill before leaning back in his chair. Like his father, Czar Paul, Alexander possessed a preference for a simple, military-style attire, relieved only by his Cross of St. George. “There are nights I dream of simply walking away from this palace and disappearing among the mobs.”

“Responsibility always comes with a heavy price,” Edmond readily agreed. There had been more than one night he had dreamed of becoming lost among the crowds. A simple, uncomplicated existence was a rare gift that few appreciated as they should.

“A pity I was not like you, Edmond. I think I should have liked to be a younger son, to have had some say in my own destiny. There was a time I even considered abdicating the throne and living a quiet life upon the Rhine.” He offered a wistful smile. “It was impossible, of course, a foolish dream of youth. Unlike Constantine, I had no choice but to accept my duty.”

“Being a younger son comes with its own share of troubles, sire. I would not wish my life on anyone.”

“Yes, you hide your troubles well, Edmond, but I have always sensed your heart is not at rest,” Alexander Pavlovich astonished Edmond by admitting. “Perhaps someday you will share what demons haunt you.”

Edmond battled to keep his face impassive. He had vowed never to speak of the raw wound that festered deep in his heart. Not with anyone.

“Perhaps.” He wisely evaded a direct response. “But not today, I fear. I have come to beg your forgiveness.”

“What is it?”

“I must return to England.”

“Has something occurred?”

Edmond carefully considered his words. “I have been concerned for some time, sire,” he confessed. “The letters that I have received from my brother over the past months have mentioned a number of…incidents that make me suspect that someone is attempting to do him harm.”

Alexander abruptly leaned forward. “Explain these incidents.”

“There have been gunshots from the nearby wood that my brother dismissed as poachers, there was a bridge that collapsed just as my brother’s carriage was upon it, and most recently a fire was started late one night in the wing of Meadowland where my brother’s bedchambers are located.” Edmond gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white as he recalled his brother’s latest letter. He intended to kill whoever was stupid enough to threaten his twin brother’s life. Slowly, painfully, and without mercy. “It was only because of an alert servant that there was nothing more than a few scorched walls instead of a tragedy.”

The Emperor did not pretend shock that someone as powerful as the Duke of Huntley might be in danger. The previous Czar had been assassinated, with scandalous rumors that Alexander himself had been involved. Then, of course, there was rarely a month that passed without some threat to the throne.

“It is understandable that you are concerned, but surely your brother has taken steps to ensure his safety?”

Edmond grimaced. Despite the fact there was less than ten minutes between their births, the two brothers could not be more different.

“Stefan is a brilliant Duke,” he said, speaking nothing less than the truth. “He tends his lands with the love of a mother for her child, his business investments have tripled the family’s coffers, and he is devoted to the care of those who depend upon him, whether it is his reckless younger brother or his lowest servant.” A rueful smile touched Edmond’s mouth. As different as they might be, the two brothers were devoted to one another, even more so since their parents’ tragic drowning years earlier. “As a man of the world, however, he is extraordinarily naive, completely trusting of others and utterly incapable of deception.”

Alexander gave a slow nod of his head. “I begin to comprehend.”

“I want more than to keep Stefan safe,” Edmond said in a soft, lethal voice. “I want whoever is responsible in my hands so I can choke the life from him.”

“Do you know who it is?”

Edmond’s body clenched with a fury he could barely contain. Along with his brother’s grudging revelation of the odd incidences that had plagued him, had been a passing reference to the fact that their cousin, Howard Summerville, was visiting his mother who lived only a few miles from the Huntley family seat.

Howard was his eldest cousin and the third heir in line to inherit the dukedom if anything were to happen to Stefan and Edmond. He was also a pathetic whiner who rarely missed an opportunity to inform all of society that his family had been ill-used by the Dukes of Huntley.

Who more likely to wish to do away with Stefan?

“I have my suspicions.”

“I see. Then most certainly it is your duty to protect your brother,” Alexander agreed with a grave nod of his head.

“I realize it is an awkward time to leave, but…” His words were cut short as the Emperor abruptly rose to his feet.

“Edmond, go to your family,” he commanded. “When all is settled, you can return to me.”

Edmond gained his feet and performed a deep bow.

“Thank you, sire.”

“Edmond.”

“Yes?”

“Just make certain you do return,” the Emperor commanded. “The Duke has given his loyalty to England, but your family owes Russia one of their sons.”

Hiding a smile at the thought of what King George IV might have to say at the royal command, Edmond merely inclined his head.

“Of course.”

LEAVING HIS SERVANTS AND carriage to follow behind him, Edmond urged his mount to a steady pace from London to his childhood home in Surrey.

Stefan might be a meticulous correspondent, but he tended to devote far too much attention to his crop rotation and newest farm implements. Edmond knew the precise details of the plantings in the north field and very little of how Stefan truly fared.

Still, for all Edmond’s urgency, he couldn’t halt the overwhelming desire to slow his grueling pace as he entered the familiar wooded landscape surrounding his home.

It was all in perfect order, of course. Everything from the neatly trimmed hedgerows to the recently harvested fields. Even the cottages were brightly whitewashed with fresh thatching on the roofs. Stefan would demand no less than perfection. Which was why he was considered one of the finest landlords in the entire realm.

Edmond was surprised, however, to realize he could vividly recall every curve in the road, every tiny stream that cut through the rolling pastures, and every towering oak that lined the long path to the house. He recalled playing pirates with Stefan on the glittering lake in the distance, having picnics with his adoring parents in the Grotto, even hiding from his tutor in the large conservatory.

His heart clenched with a bittersweet pain that only intensified as he cantered past the ivy-covered tower gate and his gaze fell upon the rambling, stone house that had been the crowning glory of the countryside for two hundred and fifty years.

Perched at the end of a tree-lined drive much of the foundation of the great house was still from the original Norman stonework, a testament to the excellent craftsmanship. There were twelve impressive bays that boasted sash windows and stone balustrades that lined the roof. The previous Duke had added a Portrait Gallery and the woodland gardens had been expanded to include several fountains created for his mother by Russian artists, but the overall image remained one of solid, ageless English beauty.

Behind the main house, the stable block was a handsome structure that maintained much of its rustic beauty with numerous wooden stalls and carved pillars. In the past the stables had housed the local villagers when the plague had swept through the country, providing a sanctuary from the ravaging death. These days, however, the building had been returned to its traditional purpose, housing the extensive collection of Huntley horses that were praised in the Sporting Magazine and sought after by foxhunters all over England.

As a youth, Edmond had loved the scent of the stables, often hiding in the hayloft to avoid the tedious lectures of his tutor or, as he grew older, to enjoy a bit of privacy with a willing maid.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Edmond sternly dismissed the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t returned to England to dredge up the ugly past. Or to waste his time brooding on what might have been.

He was here for Stefan.

Nothing more.

Edmond angled his horse toward the side entrance, hoping to avoid the fanfare that always occurred on the rare occasions he made an appearance at his ancestral seat. Later he would make sure he managed to greet the large staff he considered more family than servants, but for now he wanted to assure himself that Stefan was safe. Then he needed to find a trustworthy ally who could tell him the truth of what had been happening here in Surrey.

He managed to slip through the double French doors and make his way through the small study that his brother had confiscated to use for his private art studio. The satinwood furnishings had been shifted to a distant corner, leaving space on the Persian carpet for a stack of canvases and a wooden tripod. Even the pretty green and ivory striped curtains that perfectly matched the wall panels were now folded and stacked on his mother’s writing desk. A smile touched Edmond’s lips. It was a ridiculous waste of space, considering Stefan had managed to create nothing more than a handful of truly ghastly landscapes in the past twenty years.

With a shake of his head, he crossed through the adjoining music room before being caught by the thin, silver-haired butler who was hovering near the marble staircase, as if sensing someone had invaded his domain.

For the briefest moment, a hint of confusion touched the servant’s sharply carved face, as if wondering why the Duke of Huntley would be sneaking through the house like a thief, before realization struck.

Even servants who had known Stefan and Edmond all their lives found it difficult to tell them apart at a glance.

“My lord,” he breathed in shock, hurrying forward with a rare smile curving his lips. “What a delightful surprise.”

Edmond readily returned the smile. Goodson was a genuine treasure, always efficient, well-organized and in ruthless control of the vast staff. His true talent, however, was his ability to maintain the sense of calm peace that so pleased Stefan.

There was never, ever anything to disturb the serenity of Meadowland. No sounds of squabbling servants, no upheavals from unwanted guests who were firmly, but diplomatically, turned from the door, no awkward unpleasantness during the rare social events that were held at the grand house.

He was, all in all, the perfect butler.

“Thank you, Goodson,” Edmond said. “I am shockingly pleased to be here.”

“It is always good to come home,” Goodson replied, able to hide the least hint of reproach at Edmond’s lengthy absence.

The staff would never fully resign themselves to Edmond’s preference for living in Russia. To them he was an Englishman, regardless of his mother’s blood, and a duke’s son. His place was at Meadowland, not some strange, foreign land.

“Yes, I suppose it is. Is the Duke at home?”

“He is in his study. Do you wish me to announce you?”

Of course Stefan was in his study. If his diligent brother was not overseeing the work in the fields he was always in his study.

“No, despite my advancing years, I believe I can still remember my way.”

Goodson gave a dignified nod. “I will have Mrs. Slater bring you a tray there.”

Edmond’s mouth watered at the mere thought. He had eaten the food of the most famous chefs in the world, but none could compare to Mrs. Slater’s simple English fare.

“Will you ask her to include her famous seed cakes? I haven’t had a decent one in years.”

“There is no need to ask,” Goodson assured him dryly. “The woman will be so delighted to have you returned to Meadowland, she will not be satisfied until she manages to produce every dish you have claimed to prefer since you were in shortcoats.”

“At this moment I believe I could eat them all.” Edmond turned toward the steps only to sharply turn back toward the hovering servant. “Goodson.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“My brother happened to mention in one of his letters that Mr. Howard Summerville was visiting his mother.”

“I believe he and his family did stay several weeks with Mrs. Summerville, sir.”

There was nothing to be detected in the bland tones, but Edmond did not doubt the servant knew the precise day Howard arrived in Surrey as well as the exact moment of his departure. It would, after all, be the valet’s unpleasant duty to ensure the sponger did not manage to slip past his guard and trouble the Duke with his tedious pleas for money.

“How many weeks?”

“He arrived six days before Christmas and did not leave until the twelfth of September.”

“Rather odd for a gentleman devoted to the delights of town to leave London for such a protracted length of time, was it not, Goodson?”

“Very odd, unless one believes in village gossip.”

“And what village gossip would that be?”

“That Mr. Summerville was forced to close his town house and retrench.” The disdain deepened. “It was said that the gentleman could not so much as step out his door without being surrounded by bill collectors.”

“It seems my cousin has managed to become an even greater dolt than I had anticipated.”

“Yes, indeed, my lord.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Once I speak with my brother I would like to have a word with his valet.”

The flicker of surprise was so brief it might have been nonexistent. “I will have James awaiting you in the library.”

“Actually I would prefer the privacy of my personal sitting room, always presuming it has not been converted into a nursery or filled to the ceiling with Stefan’s farming manuals.”

“Your rooms are just as you left them,” the servant assured him in grave tones. “His Grace insists that they always be prepared for your return.”

Edmond smiled wryly. It was predictable of his brother. And oddly comforting. There was something to be said for always knowing there was a place waiting for you.

“Have James meet me in my sitting room in an hour.”

“As you wish.”

Knowing that Goodson would not only have James waiting for him, but would do so with the sort of discretion that would avoid any unnecessary chatter below-stairs, Edmond turned and continued his way to the second floor.

Deliberately avoiding the Picture Gallery, Edmond chose the lesser-used Minstrel’s Gallery to make his way toward the private rooms of the vast house. A faint smile touched his lips as he realized that the pale blue damask wall panels were precisely the same as they had been when he was a child, as well as the blue and ivory silk curtains that framed the high, arched windows that ran the length of the gallery.

His amusement only deepened as he silently pushed open the door to the large study that was nearly overrun with books, ledgers and farming manuals stacked on every available surface. Only the heavy oak desk was relatively clear of debris, with one ledger book spread open. Stefan was seated behind the desk in a leather chair, quill in his hand.

“Do you know, Stefan, it is nothing short of remarkable how nothing ever changes at Meadowland, including you,” he murmured softly. “I believe you were sitting at that precise desk, tallying the same quarterly reports in that same old blue coat the day that I left.”

Lifting his dark head, Stefan stared at him in shock for a long beat.

“Edmond?”

“For my sins.”

With a choked sound between a laugh and sob, Stefan was on his feet and hurrying to clasp Edmond in a bear hug.

“Dear God, it’s good to see you.”

Edmond readily returned the embrace. His feelings for Stefan had never been complicated. His brother was the one person in the entire world he truly loved.

“And you, Stefan.”

Pulling back, Stefan allowed a rueful smile to touch the face that was an exact replica of Edmond’s.

Oh, the discerning eye might pick up the fact that Stefan’s olive skin was a shade or two darker from the hours he spent overseeing the tenants, and that the vivid blue eyes held an expression of sweet trust that would never be seen in Edmond’s. But the thick raven hair curled in exactly the same manner, the chiseled features held the same Slavic beauty; even their tall, lean bodies were exactly matched.

The two had spent their childhood taking great delight in switching places and confusing others who could never tell them apart.

Everyone, that is, but their parents and their young neighbor Brianna Quinn. The tiny minx with a wild mane of autumn-hued curls could never be deceived.

“I will have you know this coat is not above three or four seasons old,” Stefan assured him as he smoothed his hands over the blue coat.

Edmond gave a soft laugh. “I would lay ten quid your valet would tell me differently.”

Stefan wrinkled his nose, his gaze skimming over Edmond’s closely tailored mulberry jacket and silver waistcoat.

“Well, I never was as dapper as you.”

“Thank God,” Edmond said with utter sincerity. “Unlike your feckless brother, you have far more important matters to fill your days than the cut of your coat or gloss of your boots. Not the least of which is allowing me to live in magnificent comfort.”

“I would hardly consider being the guardian angel of his Imperial Highness as being feckless,” Stefan countered. “Far from it, in fact.”

“Guardian angel?” Edmond gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh at the ridiculous words. “You are far off the mark, dear Stefan. I am a wicked sinner, a rake, and a self-indulgent adventurer who has only avoided the hangman’s noose due to the fortune of possessing a Duke for a brother.”

The vivid blue eyes narrowed. “You might be able to fool others, Edmond, but never me.”

“Because you are always determined to believe the best in everyone, even your worthless brother.” Edmond lowered himself into a wing chair near the desk, quite ready to be done with the conversation. “Presumably Mrs. Slater is busily preparing a banquet, but in truth I am in more need of a shot of that Irish whiskey you keep hidden in your drawer.”

“Of course.” With a knowing smile Stefan moved to the desk and pulled out the bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Splashing a healthy measure of the amber spirit into each, he handed one to Edmond and took his own seat behind the desk. “Cheers.”

Tossing the spirit down his throat, Edmond savored the delicious burn.

“Ah…perfect.” Placing the empty glass on a nearby table, Edmond settled back in his seat and took a deep breath. He smiled at his brother. “This room smells of England.”

“And what does England smell of?”

“Polished wood, aging leather, damp air. It never changes.”

Stefan polished off his drink and set his glass aside. “Perhaps not, but I find such familiarity comforting. I am not like you, Edmond, always seeking some new adventure. I prefer a more dull and tedious existence.”

“There is something to be said for familiarity. I am glad you haven’t changed Meadowland. I like knowing that when I return, it will be just as I remembered.” He studied his brother, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Of course, once you take a wife you will no doubt be badgered into constant renovations. We might love this rambling old place with its smoking chimneys, leaking casements and sadly dated furnishings, but I doubt a woman of good breeding would be happy to live among such shabbiness.”

As always Stefan refused to rise to the bait. “No doubt that is the reason I still have yet to take a wife,” he murmured with a placid indifference to his bachelor state. Of course he could be. Everyone knew there wasn’t a maiden in all of England, or the rest of the world for that matter, who wouldn’t leap at the opportunity to become the next Duchess of Huntley. “I cannot bear the thought of altering my treasured home.”

“More likely you are just foolish enough to be waiting for love to strike your heart, and when it does I predict that it will be to some entirely unsuitable miss who will lead you about by your nose.”

Stefan arched a dark brow. “Actually I’ve always assumed that you would be the one to tumble neck deep in love with some spirited lady who will lead you a merry dance. It would be only fair, for all the havoc you have caused among the fairer sex.”

There was no need for Edmond to fake his shudder. He possessed a natural desire for a beautiful woman, but never for more than a passing affair.

He would readily share his body and his wealth, but never anything more.

“Mon dieu, not even I deserve such a hideous fate,” he muttered.

Stefan chuckled, but he didn’t appear nearly as convinced as he should have been. “Now, tell me all the news from Russia. You know I hear nothing here in the country.”

Edmond leaned forward, his smile fading. “Actually, Stefan, I am far more interested in what has been happening at Meadowland.”

IT WAS CLOSE TO TWO HOURS later when Edmond entered his private sitting room. Decorated in soothing shades of cream and sapphire, it possessed a simple elegance. The furniture was fashioned in the solid English style with a satin settee, a mahogany chased ormolu and brass bureau, and a few trellised-backed chairs that smelled of beeswax. On the walls were several Flemish masterpieces that had been collected by a distant ancestor; the floor was covered by a magnificent oriental carpet.

It was the logs laid in the fireplace and fresh flowers arranged on the marble mantle, however, that made his lips twitch with amusement.

Clearly Goodson had not lied. The room looked as if he had never left.

Shifting his attention, he regarded the short, rotund form of his brother’s valet who was standing near the arched windows that offered a stunning view of the nearby lake. The servant was neatly attired in a black and gold uniform, his pudgy face settled in lines of stoic patience.

“James, thank you for coming.”

“My lord. It is good to have you home.” The valet, who had been with Stefan for over ten years, offered a deep brow. Straightening, he dared to allow a hint of disapproval to touch his pale eyes. “His Grace pines for your company when you are gone.”

“Well, I am here now.”

“So, you are, sir.” James covertly glanced over Edmond’s elegant attire. “I would be happy to lend you assistance in your chambers whenever my duties with your brother…”

“No, my manservant should be arriving with my luggage before nightfall,” he interrupted. “What I need from you is information.”

James frowned in confusion. “Information?”

“I want to know every incident, no matter how trivial, that has put my brother in danger over the past year.”

“Oh…thank God.” Without warning, the servant was moving forward and falling to his knees directly before the startled Edmond. “I have tried to convince his Grace that he is in danger, but he refuses to believe that anyone would want to harm him.”

“I assumed as much, which is why I have returned. Unlike Stefan, I am not naive enough to brush aside such obvious attempts at murder. And I can assure you that I will not rest until I discover who is behind these attacks.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE TERRACE HOUSE ON CURZON Street was a narrow affair with a wrought-iron railing and unremarkable facade. The interior had once been fashionable, with a cheerful front parlor and long, formal dining room. These days, however, it could claim nothing more than a vulgar collection of Egyptian-inspired furnishings complete with a sarcophagus and mummy that had caused more than one visitor to faint in horror.

Precisely the sort of overblown opulence that marked the owner as one of those encroaching mushrooms with more money than good breeding.

The house did, however, possess a tidy garden in the back that had the added advantage of a small grotto where it was possible to hide from prying eyes.

Standing near the narrow window of the grotto that overlooked the back gate, a young woman pressed a hand to her stomach, which was tied in painful knots.

Standing in the shadows, with her vibrant curls yanked into a stern knot at the nape of her neck and her small, delicate body encased in a heavy black gown more suitable for the depths of winter than the pleasant October day, she should have looked a dowd. That had certainly been her intention when she had left her chambers that morning.

Unfortunately, nothing could manage to dim the finely molded features that were dominated by a pair of slanted, thickly lashed green eyes and a wide, lush mouth. And certainly nothing could dim the vibrant beauty of her auburn hair that held hints of red, gold and a shimmering bronze.

Her nose was dainty and her eyebrows an elegant sweep of color that emphasized the ivory perfection of her skin. Even her cheekbones were carved with exquisite care.

To men, she appeared to capture the very essence and allure of the first Eve, a woman who could tempt a man to barter his very soul to own her.

But in this moment, she would give her sizable dowry to be invisible to men.

At least to one man in particular.

The familiar squeak of the back gate brought a swift end to her dark thoughts, and leaning forward, she gave a low whistle to capture the maid’s notice.

“Janet,” she called softly. The plump female, attired in a gray servant’s gown and white cap covering her dark curls, cast a glance about the seemingly empty garden. “I am in the grotto.”

With hurried steps, the maid entered the grotto and pressed a hand to her ample bosom.

“Lord, Miss, ye bout scared the wits outta me.”

“Mr. Wade has returned from his club early, I could not risk having him overhear us,” Brianna Quinn whispered.

Janet grimaced, her pretty features hardening with distaste. It was an expression most women displayed when speaking of Mr. Thomas Wade.

“Aye, he is always sneaking about, watching you like a hungry cat watching a mouse.”

A shiver inched down Brianna’s spine before she was sternly lifting her chin and sucking in a deep breath. No, she could not give in to her looming panic. The only means of saving herself was to keep her wits clear and focused on escape.

“He will discover that I am no mouse,” she said, fiercely. “I do not care what it takes, I will be rid of my vile stepfather before the week is out.”

“As to that—” Janet ducked her head in apology as she reached her hand into the pocket of her apron and removed the vellum envelope that Brianna had given her earlier that morning.

Brianna frowned in disbelief. She had devoted the past week to sending letter after letter to Stefan’s town house. She had been certain when she learned the reclusive Duke was in town that he would be her savior.

But, as day after day passed with no word from her childhood friend, she had at last sent her maid to confront him directly. It had to be that her letters had gone astray or Stefan had not yet had the opportunity to read them. She could not believe he would be deliberately avoiding her pleas for assistance.

“You were unable to speak with the Duke?” she demanded.

Janet made a rude noise. “Not only wasn’t I allowed to speak with the Duke, but I couldn’t so much as leave yer note for him.”

“Why ever not?”

“There was a great, hulking servant what answered the door. Eyed me like a piece of rubbish that had been dropped on his stoop and told me to be on me way without so much as a good day.” Janet gave a disgusted shake of her head. Despite the fact she was the same age as Brianna, two and twenty, she possessed a will of iron and was rarely routed by even the most fearsome opponent. Brianna had seen her beat a drunken sailor to near death with her umbrella for no more an insult than a pinch on her backside. “Sodding man wouldn’t even accept the letter ye had written for His Grace. Said as his master was in town for business reasons and wasn’t accepting visitors. Then he shut the door right in me face. Bastard.”

Brianna was frankly bewildered. She knew all of the Huntley staff, since most of them had been with the ducal family since well before Brianna’s father had died. Certainly she could not recall such an intimidating man.

“Describe this servant.”

Janet gave a lift of her shoulder. “As I said, he was big and burly with a hard face and thick golden hair. I suppose he be handsome enough if ye like ’em big as an ox.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Oh, and he had a funny accent. He was no Englishman, that much I can tell ye.”

“How peculiar.” With short, determined steps, Brianna paced the confined space of the grotto, her nerves stretched to the point of screaming. “That does not sound at all like Goodson.”

“Who?”

“The Duke’s long-time butler,” Brianna said absently. “In fact, to my knowledge the Dukes have never employed foreigners. Their staff has been with them for years.”

“Looks more like a criminal than a servant, if ye ask me.”

“I do not understand, Janet.” The swish of her black crape dress over the sarsnet slip echoed through the musty air as Brianna continued her pacing, her fingers absently toying with the fichu she had tucked into the modest line of her bodice. “Stefan would never turn away a request from me, not unless he has changed dramatically in the past few years. My father named him as one of my guardians, for God’s sake.”

“What will ye do? If ye can’t speak with the Duke…”

Brianna came to a sharp halt, her hands clenched into fists. “Oh, I will speak with him. Even if I have to storm the gates of his town house myself.”

“Ye can’t do that, Miss. Not without causing a fearful scandal.”

“You think I would not rather endure scandal than be hauled off to a secluded hunting lodge with my stepfather?” Brianna hissed, her entire body revolting at the mere thought of what would happen once Thomas had her isolated and helpless at the lodge.

“Still…ach.” Janet caught her breath. “I jest remembered something.”

“What?”

“While I was attempting to get into the house, a boy arrived with a package for his Grace.”

“And?”

“The package was a domino and mask that the master had ordered to be made.”

Understanding slowly bloomed in Brianna’s mind, her fading hope returning in a fierce wave.

“So he plans to attend a masquerade.”

“And soon. The servant snapped at the boy for his tardiness, saying that it had best meet with the master’s approval as it was too late to have it altered.”

“Then it must be tonight.” Picking up her heavy skirts, Brianna headed for the door of the grotto. “I need to speak with Mrs. Grant. She always knows what social events are occurring about town.”

IT WAS NEAR ELEVEN O’CLOCK that evening before the house was at last quiet enough for Brianna to slip from the back door and make her way through the dark streets until she stood in front of the pretentious town house where the Courtesan Masquerade Ball was to be held.

It didn’t look the sort of place where gentlemen of the highest society mixed with courtesans, harlots and ladies of easy virtue. Not with its handsome brickwork and Iconic columns that framed the main entrance with a muted elegance.

Mrs. Grant, however, had been quite firm in announcing that the only masquerade ball on this night was Lord Blackwell’s annual event.

Brianna gave a small shake of her head as she noted the long line of carriages stretching down the block and masked gentlemen walking through the front door. Obviously, any disapproval of tonight’s festivities was exclusively held by female members of society.

“I do not like this, miss,” Janet hissed at her side. “I think I should stay with ye in case there’s trouble.”

Brianna tugged the domino closer about her body as she battled off the urge to shiver. When she had found the black velvet cloak lined with silver and the matching black feathered mask in her mother’s old truck in the attic, she had felt as if fate was urging her to take the daring risk. There was even a matching ball gown in a pale pink satin with black and silver ribbons dotted along the hem and threaded through the scooped bodice. It was precisely the sort of frivolous concoction that would be expected at a masquerade.

Now, however, her palms were sweating and her knees shaking as she contemplated the thought of entering the strange town house filled with randy gentlemen and willing whores. What if she were recognized? Or worse, what if she was accosted before she could locate Stefan, even assuming he was in there?

It took more courage than she knew she possessed to reach out and squeeze Janet’s cold hand.

“Nonsense, I need you at home to make sure that Thomas does not realize I am not in my chambers.”

“This is no place for a lady. Only harlots would be seen at such a ball.”

“But, I will not be seen,” Brianna said, her voice considerably more steady than her nerves. “Besides, I have heard any number of rumors that there are ladies of fashion who attend such events. Incognito, of course.”

Janet sucked in a sharp breath. Servants tended to have a rigid view of how a noble should behave. Far more rigid than the nobles themselves.

“Not proper young ladies.”

“I can no longer afford to be proper, Janet.” Her voice was bitter. “If I am unable to convince Stefan to take me in as his ward, then I shall be forced to flee and make my own way in the world. In that event, I doubt that a risqué ball will be my greatest concern.”

Janet chewed her bottom lip, knowing she could not argue the stark truth of Brianna’s words. They had three short days before she was to be hauled off to the wilds of Norfolk. Once there, no one would be able to halt her stepfather from forcing her to his bed.

“Jest promise ye’ll take care,” Janet demanded with a resigned sigh. “The gents are bound to be drunk and in the mood for trouble.”

“I will take the greatest care, I assure you.” Brianna squeezed her maid’s fingers in warning. “But, Janet, I am depending on you. No one can know that I am not in my bed sleeping.”

Janet squared her plump shoulders. “Not a soul will get past yer bedroom door, that I promise ye.”

“I will return as soon as I have spoken with Stefan,” she promised.

“Good luck to ye, miss.”

Loosening her clinging grip on her maid, Brianna squared her shoulders and turned her attention to the waiting town house.

“Let us hope I do not need it.”

Brianna waited until her maid had slipped away before forcing herself to cross the crowded street.

Feeling as exposed as if she were stark naked, she neared the throng of gentlemen and began to press her way up the sweep of steps. Her logic told her that no one could possibly recognize her in the concealing domino and feathered mask, especially since she had never been able to move among the more fashionable society, but in her mind, she felt as if every eye was staring at her.

And in truth, they were.

Even though she had tightly braided her conspicuous hair and knotted it at the nape of her neck, the color still managed to shimmer with vibrant beauty in the torchlight. And no mask could entirely disguise the exotic slant of her green eyes and the full curve of her inviting mouth.

Keeping her head lowered as she moved forward, she actually made it through the door before a hand clamped on her arm and forced her to a halt.

“And where the devil do you think you’re going?” a male voice rasped.

Glancing up, she met the annoyed glare from a uniformed footman. Her mouth went dry and her heart lodged in her throat.

“I…I am going to the ball.”

The servant curled his lips in distaste. “Oh, aye, and you think you can prance in as if you’re royalty? Maybe you think to be announced by the butler?”

“I…”

The footman did not bother to listen to her embarrassed apology, instead simply pushing her back down the stairs to make room for the crowd of gentlemen.

“Round to the back with you, wench. Only the gents come through the front door.”

Brianna briefly stumbled before regaining her balance and hurrying to the back entrance. Ignoring the dampness that soaked into her embroidered slippers, she found the narrow entrance where she was shown up the servants’ staircase by a dour-faced housekeeper into the long parlors that were richly decorated with gilded ceilings, crimson satin wall paneling and gold-veined marble fireplaces. The floor was a polished parquet that glowed with a rich luster beneath the flickering light of the crystal chandeliers. Along one wall, long tables had been arranged to display the lavish buffet and numerous bottles of chilled champagne.

She had reached her objective, but she discovered that finding Stefan was not to be so simple as she had assumed.

There had to be a hundred guests crammed into the gilt and crimson rooms, all of them disguised in cloaks and masks as they threaded their way through the glittering crowd or lounged on the small couches and chairs that were set in shallow alcoves. Somewhere among the melee a string quartet played, but it was nearly impossible to hear what Brianna assumed was Mozart over the laughter and shouts and shrill giggles.

Under normal circumstances, she might have been shocked by the sight of the women who had tossed open their cloaks to reveal they were wearing nothing more than lacy corsets beneath, and the men who openly reached to grope the wares offered. It was hardly what an innocent maiden was accustomed to seeing.

She was far too concerned with locating the Duke of Huntley to be as shocked as she should be. Or to even question why such a sweet, kind-hearted man such as Stefan would choose to attend such a vulgar event.

Sheer determination allowed her to make her way to the center of the room before she was halted by a large woman with all the full curves that Brianna lacked.

“Hey there, no shoving, there be plenty of gents to go around,” she said, her pox-scarred face heavily rouged.

“I am looking for the Duke of Huntley,” Brianna said bluntly.

The woman gave a lift of her darkened brows. “Oh, aye, I bet yer are. Think yer fancy speech will impress such a fine toff?”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

The woman gave a lift of her shoulder. “I heard tell he was in the card rooms. Seems he prefers gambling to the ladies.”

“Thank God,” Brianna breathed.

“What did ye say?” the woman demanded, suspicious.

“I asked where the card rooms are to found.”

There was a pause before the woman jerked her head back toward the hall.

“Down the hall. Last door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Brianna turned and began the battle back to the door, a choked scream leaving her lips as a large masculine arm wrapped around her waist from behind.

“Here now, where are you going in such a hurry?” a thick, drunken voice demanded next to her ear.

Brianna struggled against the repulsive grasp. “I be meeting another, let go,” she said, mimicking the other doxies in the room.

“You can meet him later. I have a desire for a saucy minx, and something tells me you could be very saucy.”

A flare of terrified fury raced through Brianna and with as much force as she could muster, she lifted her foot to kick the man directly on his shin.

“I said I have a meeting,” she gritted, managing to wriggle loose as he gave a groan of pain and loosened his grip.

“Why, you bitch…”

An opening appeared and Brianna darted toward the doorway, the crowd filling in behind her to prevent her assailant from following.

Giving a silent prayer at her escape, Brianna did not allow her pace to slow as she entered the carpeted hallway and hurried toward the card room.

CHAPTER THREE

STANDING IN THE SMOKY CARD room, Edmond struggled to contain his impatience.

Predictably, it had not been an easy task to convince his stubborn brother that he truly was in danger. For all Stefan’s intelligence, he was remarkably reluctant to accept that anyone could possibly seek his demise, especially not his own cousin.

Then, of course, there had been the battle over Edmond assuming Stefan’s identity so he could lure the danger to London and away from Meadowland, hopefully flushing the villain into the open. It did not matter how many times Edmond explained that he was far more skilled to discover the truth behind the attacks and that he alone could turn the hunter into the hunted.

Finally, Edmond had been forced to point out that Stefan’s stubbornness might very well be endangering the staff and tenants of Meadowland, explaining that a man willing to murder a duke would not hesitate to kill a mere commoner standing in his way. It was only then that Stefan had given in to the inevitable.

Still, it was a full fortnight before Edmond was at last able to leave Meadowland in the disguise of his brother and arrive at Stefan’s town house in London. And another week before he could replace Stefan’s loyal staff with his own servants. If he were to be bait for a determined killer, he intended to surround himself with those trained to protect him.

It had not taken much effort to track Howard Summerville. All he needed was to discover the most lewd, offensive event on the calendar, Lord Blackwell’s Courtesan Ball.

He had not been disappointed. Within moments he had located Howard in the back card rooms. Now all he needed was his cousin to notice his looming form standing directly in his path.

Over the past twenty minutes, he had walked past the stupid man’s seat at the table on a dozen occasions, expecting to be recognized. After all, there were few in society that could claim the height of Edmond and his brother, and none other who wore the crest of Huntley stamped on a gold signet ring.

Everyone else in the smoke-choked room had instantly bowed in his direction, covertly giving way as was only fitting for a duke when he approached them.

Just when Edmond was convinced he would have to give in to his impulse and drag the man away from the table by the scruff of his neck, Howard tossed in his cards, signed his large stack of vowels and unsteadily rose to his feet.

It would be far preferable for the meeting to appear as nothing more than a chance encounter. The last thing Edmond desired was to tip his hand to his cousin. Howard Summerville was debauched, depraved and detestable, but he wasn’t a halfwit. He was going to be curious enough that the reclusive Duke of Huntley was seemingly tossing himself into the wicked pleasures of London without adding fuel to the fire.

Weaving his way toward the door, the slender, dark-haired man with a swarthy complexion, small black eyes and pinched countenance nearly rammed into Edmond before he came to a belated halt.

Squinting upward, the red-rimmed eyes took a long moment to focus. At last they widened as Howard sucked in a shocked breath.

“Good Lord, is that you Huntley?”

Edmond gave a stiff nod of his head, as if the meeting were an unpleasant surprise. It was how Stefan would react.

“Howard.”

“Whatever are you doing here?” the older gentleman demanded, shoving a hand through his tangled black hair. He looked ghastly. Having dispensed with his mask and domino, his unhealthy pallor was starkly visible, emphasizing the sunken hollows beneath his eyes. Even his expensively tailored evening suit was as creased as if he had been wearing it for days. “Hardly the place for a grand peer of the realm.”

Edmond bit back his acerbic words. For the moment, he was supposed to be the Duke of Huntley, and Stefan would never allow his ducal composure to slip, even if it did become a bit frosty when he was displeased.

“I would say that there are several peers of the realm in attendance,” he said, deliberately glancing toward the two Earls and a Baron currently seated at the tables.

“Oh, yes, well, I suppose there are,” Howard muttered, sullenly. “Still, I have never known you to partake of the more delicious enticements that London has to offer. Come to think of it, I have never known you to partake of any enticements.”

“Which is precisely why I am here.”

“What does that mean?”

“Edmond returned to Meadowland for a short visit and demanded that I travel to London and take in the pleasures while he attended to the estate duties. He was quite insistent that I was becoming too dull to bear, and when Edmond has set his mind on a course, there is no budging him.”

“I can bloody well imagine. That brother of yours is a menace. Damnation, last time we crossed paths, he attacked me. Russia is the proper place for that one—his heart is as cold as Siberia. Of course, now that I think on the matter, your brother was quite right to send you to the city, Huntley. I have always said that you work far too hard. A bit of enjoyment is what you need. I’ve told Mrs. Summerville that on a dozen occasions.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, indeed.” Howard stretched his lips in a ghastly smile. “And now that you are here, I realize that it is quite a stroke of fortune. Almost uncanny.”

Edmond folded his arms over his chest, already knowing what was coming next.

“And what is this stroke of fortune?”

“Well, I did attempt to call upon you at Meadowland. On several occasions, as a matter of fact, although that bastard of a butler would not so much as allow me to step across the threshold.”

“Indeed.”

“Yes.” He gave an awkward pause at Edmond’s distinctly unenthusiastic tone. “I…it seems that I have had a bit of trouble with those nasty creditors of late.”

“Has there ever been a time when you did not have trouble with creditors?”

“Trifling matters.” Howard tugged at his drooping cravat. “On this occasion, however, I fear that I am quite undone. Indeed, I have been contemplating a flight to the Continent if my situation does not improve.”

Edmond’s expression remained coolly indifferent even as his muscles coiled with tension. That Howard was in dun territory was as predictable as the sun rising. Clearly this time, however, he was desperate.

“And yet, here you are squandering your non-existent funds on cards and whores,” Edmond accused, knowing it was what his brother would say.

“I had hoped to recoup some of my losses at the table.”

“Ah, of course. That is always a sound notion.”

Ignoring the mocking words, Howard plunged onward. “If you could just see your way to lending me a bit of assistance…”

“Let me make certain that I am not misunderstanding you, cousin. Are you asking for money?”

“Just enough to cover my most pressing expenses.”

“Tell me, Howard, just how deep are your debts?”

Hope flared through the dark eyes before it was abruptly replaced by a wary suspicion. Not even the kindhearted Stefan was willing to fund this worthless gentleman, knowing he would simply toss the money away in the nearest gambling den.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Realizing that he had very nearly overplayed his hand, Edmond cast a bored glance around the room.

“It is nothing more than idle curiosity.”

Howard heaved a disgusted sigh, his suspicions easily dismissed. “I should have known it would be a waste of effort to request your assistance. Your family has always taken pleasure in the misery of my own.”

“And you have always held us to blame for your own failures,” Edmond said, his voice edged with ice.

“It wasn’t failures. I have simply had a string of bad luck. Could happen to anyone…” Howard’s whining came to a startled halt as his gaze shifted to someone approaching from behind Edmond. “Hello, what have we here?”

Aggravated by the interruption, Edmond did not bother to turn, hoping whoever dared to intrude on his private conversation would realize that their presence was unwelcome.

“Your Grace, I must speak with you,” a low, startlingly cultured female voice demanded as Edmond felt a small tug on his sleeve.

Edmond glared down at the woman in a domino and feathered mask, his expression one of furious disdain.

“Be on your way, I have no interest.”

The stubborn wench refused to be intimidated, and against his will Edmond realized that she was a stunning beauty. Even with her disguise, he could determine the finely drawn features and magnificent green eyes. And that hair…that glorious autumn-hued hair, it could not possibly be real.

“But it is most vital that you give me a few minutes of your time,” she continued.

Edmond grimly ignored his body’s instinctive response to the enticing scent of lavender and sweet woman.

“I said be on your way,” he snapped. “There are many here who will give you the company you seek.”

“I, for one,” Howard intruded, his sallow face pinched with his insatiable hunger. “Unlike my prudish cousin, I possess a fine appreciation for such a beautiful woman.”

Ignoring the ready offer of companionship, the woman shifted until she was standing directly before Edmond, her ivory skin pale in the flickering candlelight.

“Please, Stefan, this cannot wait. I…” The slanted green eyes that seemed oddly familiar abruptly widened. “Good God, you’re not Ste—”

“Mon dieu.” Sweeping his arms around the dangerous woman he hauled her off her feet and covered her mouth in a punishing kiss.

THE KISS WAS INTENDED AS nothing more than a means of keeping the woman silent. Somehow, she knew that he was not Stefan, and until he managed to figure out who the hell she was, he had to keep her mouth otherwise occupied.

Necessity, however, was most certainly a pleasure as he sampled her lush, sensual lips, her breath tasting of mint and pure magic. Tightening his arms around her, Edmond swept her completely off her feet and cradled her tiny, squirming body tight against his chest.

“Here now, Huntley, you said you weren’t interested,” his cousin protested. “Where are you going?”

Edmond ignored him, just as he ignored the whistles of drunken enjoyment as he turned and headed for the nearby door. He continued the deep, relentless kiss as the crowd readily parted and he made his way down the hall and up the staircase to the bedrooms above.

Entering the first open door, Edmond kicked it shut with his foot and slowly lowered the woman to her feet, his lips never leaving her mouth as he savored the sweetness that had him hard and aching, despite his annoyance with her untimely interruption.

It would damn well be worth having to track down Howard later if he could spread this wench’s legs and bury his throbbing erection into her heat. He sensed she could offer him the sort of intense satisfaction any gentleman would sell his soul to achieve.

Reluctantly lifting his head, Edmond wrenched off his ridiculous mask and glanced round the room, swiftly determining that it was one of the numerous bedchambers. The walls were paneled in pale rosewood with a molded marble chimneypiece near the door to the inner dressing room. It was no doubt attractively decorated, but he had no interest in anything beyond the curtained four-posted bed that was visible in the flickering firelight. Ah yes. That would do perfectly.

About to lead his companion toward the far side of the room, the woman halted his fine intentions as she began to struggle in earnest against his hold.

“Stop this,” she hissed, lifting her hands to pummel them against his chest. “Damn you, Edmond, let me go.”

Edmond stiffened as her commanding words echoed through the room. Mon dieu. He knew that voice.

With a sharp motion he ripped off her feathered mask, his eyes narrowing as her mass of vibrant curls tumbled down in a shimmering river of fire.

Brianna Quinn!

He should have recognized her the moment she approached him. They had been neighbors for years, at least until her mother had remarried and they had moved to London. And while it had been ten years since he had last laid eyes upon her, there could never be another with those cat-like green eyes and astonishing curls.

Of course, his memory of her included a small, too thin body and the unformed features of a child. She was usually covered in grime, her gown ripped in a dozen places from having climbed the orchard trees or devoted the morning to fishing with Stefan.

Now she was very much a woman, with skin as smooth as cream and lush lips that begged for a man’s kiss.

An exquisite bit of temptation who was leaving him hard and aching with a frustration that did nothing to improve his temper.

“Brianna Quinn,” he growled, a grim note underlying his voice. “I should have known. You are always showing up where you are least wanted.”

A blush stained her cheeks as she no doubt recalled the number of times she managed to interrupt his various seductions, when she was forever climbing into the hayloft or poking about the Conservatory.

“Perhaps unwanted by you, Edmond, since you were always up to some wicked pastime, but never by Stefan,” she retorted, clearly having changed in more ways than just physical. As a young girl, she had been terrified of him, always darting away when he glanced in her direction and stammering when she attempted to speak. He had called her ma souris: my mouse. Now she met his gaze squarely, her chin high and her expression stubborn. “Where is he?”

Edmond folded his arms across his chest, not even considering the possibility of a lie. Brianna had been one of the few people who had always managed to determine which twin was which.

“Comfortably tucked into his bed, I should imagine,” he drawled. “You know how devoted he is to country hours.”

She froze at his words, her ivory skin paling to a sickly white.

“He is still at Meadowland?”

“Yes.”

“But…” She scowled in genuine anger. Obviously she was not at all pleased to discover Stefan was not in London. “You are pretending to be the Duke. Why?”

He narrowed his gaze. This woman had already managed to wreck his evening of interrogating his dastardly cousin. On top of that, she had very nearly destroyed his charade—and had stirred the coals of his desire to a fever pitch. It was time that she explained her damnable presence at such a nefarious event.

“Actually, I think the better question is what the devil a supposedly respectable young lady is doing attending a Courtesan’s Ball,” he corrected.

She did not cringe or cower as he had expected. Instead, she planted her hands on her hips and glared at him with flashing green eyes.

“I have no intention of answering any questions until I know why you are pretending to be the Duke of Huntley.”

“You are mistaken, ma souris.” Using his considerable height and weight to his advantage, Edmond backed the tiny woman against the wall, his expression hard with warning. “You will answer my each and every question, and you will do so this moment.”

The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered with obvious fear, but she grimly refused to give in to the inevitable.

“You cannot make me,” she hissed.

In spite of himself, Edmond could not deny a tiny surge of respect for her refusal to be intimidated. He had made grown men crumble with one withering glare, and yet she stood her ground.

Brianna Quinn might still be intruding into places that she did not belong, but his usual desire to throttle her had become a very different desire.

One that included having her spread naked on that nearby bed as he tasted every inch of her ivory skin.

“Surely you have not forgotten how dangerous it is to challenge me?” he husked, shifting to press the hard muscles of his thighs against her. He choked back a groan at the feel of her delicate, perfectly curved body beneath the heavy cloak. “I can never resist a dare.”

She shuddered, her eyes darkening with awareness. “Let me go, Edmond.”

A taunting smile touched his lips as he deliberately rubbed his aching erection against the soft swell of her stomach. The realization that she was not indifferent to his touch only intensified his surging need to be inside her.

“Tell me what you are doing here, or I will open this door and announce to the entire ball you are in attendance.”

Expecting her to falter beneath the threat, Edmond was unprepared when she lifted her hands to give him a sharp shove. He felt it no more than he would the brush of a butterfly, but it was enough to distract him so that she could slide away and walk toward the door.

“Fine, prance me in front of the entire crowd if you desire, I have nothing left to lose,” she said, tossing off the cape to reveal the pink ball gown that was cut to expose the soft curve of her breasts. Seeming indifferent to Edmond’s heated gaze locked on her plunging neckline, she yanked open the door and turned to glare at his distracted expression. “But be assured that, as soon as I am revealed, I will scream loud and clear that you are no more than an impostor.”

It was a bluff. It had to be, Edmond told himself as he stormed to her side and waved his hand toward the door. No woman was foolish enough to willingly toss away her future with such disregard.

“Let us test that theory, shall we?” he said smoothly.

Her chin tilted as she stepped into the hall. “Let’s do.”

Hearing approaching footsteps, Edmond had no choice but to grab her arm and yank her back into the room. He slammed shut the door and turned the lock, before turning to her with impatient fury.

“Have you taken complete leave of your senses? You will be ruined,” he hissed furiously.

Brianna wrapped her arms around her waist, her face pale. “Unless I can convince Stefan to help me, I am already ruined.”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

“First, I demand that you tell me why you are pretending to be the Duke of Huntley.”

He muttered a foul curse. “Brianna, do not try my patience any further. Confess why you seek Stefan.”

“Or what?” she demanded. “You will hit me?”

Edmond slowly narrowed his gaze. He was a gentleman who had developed the sort of skills to obtain the information he desired, whether it was from a cutthroat, a corrupt politician or the beautiful wife of a foreign ambassador.

If one method did not work, he was quite adept at changing his tactics.

The fingers gripping her arm eased to run an intimate path upward, lingering on the pulse that raced at the base of her throat. Heat exploded through his body at the feel of her smooth, silky skin. It was just as it promised: heated ivory.

“And mar that beautiful skin?” he demanded, giving in to the impulse that had been raging through him since he had first kissed those lips. With one graceful motion, he had her off her feet and was crossing to the bed. Ignoring her struggles, he tossed her onto the feather mattress and swiftly followed her down to cover her slight frame with his much larger one. “I have a far better means of acquiring what I desire.”

Her eyes were wide, shimmering like the finest emeralds in the firelight, her hair spread over the pillow in a breathtaking cloud of autumn flame.

“Edmond, what are you doing?”

He gave a bemused shake of his head. “When did you become such a beauty, ma souris?”

Scowling in fury, Brianna futilely struggled to wiggle from beneath his large body.

“Damnation, this is not funny.”

Edmond sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of her squirming against his taut muscles. Mon dieu, the minx was driving him mad. How was he supposed to recall that she was currently the enemy when his body was on fire?

Unable to resist temptation, Edmond lowered his head and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He breathed deeply of her lavender scent, shuddering as the tantalizing aroma filled his senses.

This was how a woman was supposed to smell, he realized in startled pleasure. Sweet and feminine, rather than drenched in the cloying perfumes so many ladies preferred.

“Tell me why you are here, Brianna,” he whispered as his lips brushed the hollow beneath her ear.

She gave a soft shriek as her body jerked in reaction to the gentle caress.

“Edmond, halt this at once,” she whispered, her hands clenched in the folds of his cloak.

Closing his eyes to better savor her exquisite taste, Edmond trailed his lips down the line of her jaw.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

He nipped her chin, his hands traveling along the narrow line of her waist and then slowly back up, inching ever nearer the delectable curve of her breasts.

“Brianna, I will not halt until I have the truth.”

The green eyes flashed with fury and a darkening awareness she could not entirely hide.

“I came here to speak with Stefan.”

He stole a brief, possessive kiss, before reluctantly pulling back to regard her with a narrowed gaze.

“Concerning what?”

“Stefan is my guardian. I need him to assert his rights and take me from the home of Mr. Wade.”

“Your stepfather?” Edmond had never met the man who had married Brianna’s mother, Sylvia. He knew little more than that the man was the son of a common butcher who had managed to make a fortune in the West Indies, a social-climbing mushroom who was well beneath the notice of most of the ton. Sylvia had been desperate, he’d supposed, to find the means of paying her gambling debts, and would no doubt have married Beelzebub himself if he’d offered. “Why?”

“That is something I would prefer to discuss with Stefan.”

“I did not ask what you prefer, ma souris,” he growled. “Answer the question.”

“Thomas intends to take me to Norfolk on Friday.”

Edmond made a sound of disgust. How typically foolish. Was there ever a woman born who did not allow herself to be ruled by flights of fancy rather than common sense?

“And you risked utter ruin because you have no wish to leave London society?” He gave a shake of his head.

Without warning her hands lifted to smack against his chest, her face flushed with fury.

“I do not give a bloody hell about London society, you wretched man,” she gritted. “Indeed, if I never had to spend another night in this horrid city I would be delighted.”

“Then why the devil are you so desperate to avoid Norfolk?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, almost as if in pain. “Please, do not do this, Edmond,” she whispered.

Edmond stilled, realizing that there was far more to this than a mere feminine whim.

“Brianna?”

A shudder wracked her body, before her thick lashes at last lifted to reveal haunted green eyes.

“My stepfather intends to take me to his hunting lodge so he…he can…have his way with me.”

“Have his way with you?”

“He intends to rape me,” she hissed. “There, are you satisfied?”

“Christ, Brianna,” he rasped, shocked to the very depths of his being. “What the hell makes you think such a thing?”

“Because he attempted to force his way into my bed three months ago.” Her voice was wooden, but Edmond was not fooled by the lack of emotion. She was so on edge, he knew she was a breath away from shattering.

“I warned him that I would contact Stefan and reveal the treachery if he so much as touched me. I thought the threat would be enough, but two weeks ago he informed me that he had purchased a new hunting lodge in Norfolk and that he intended to take me there. He also made it clear that any servants he hired would be completely loyal to him. So loyal that they would turn a blind eye if Thomas chose to keep me locked in my chambers.”

With a hiss, Edmond surged off the bed, a fury trembling through his body. The rotten, sick bastard.

“Why haven’t you contacted Stefan before now?” he snapped.

Keeping her wary gaze on him, Brianna slipped off the bed and wrapped her arms around her waist; the bodice of her gown disarranged to reveal a far too tempting glimpse of her creamy breasts.

“I sent a letter the moment that I learned of Thomas’s plan to leave London, but Stefan did not respond. After I learned that he had arrived in the city, I had hoped that he had come to assist me.” Her tone was accusing. She clearly held him to blame for Stefan’s absence. “Of course he never came to call, so I sent near a dozen messages to the town house. I even had my maid deliver a letter—only to be turned away by a huge brute of a man who would not so much as allow her across the threshold.”

“I did not hire Boris for his talents in proper London etiquette,” he said dryly.

Her eyes flashed, her beautiful hair tumbled about her shoulders. “Well, because of Boris, I was forced to attend this hideous ball in the hopes of speaking with Stefan. And now you have ruined even that.”

Edmond was not a gentleman who was chastised by others. Not even Alexander Pavlovich would dare offer more than a mild reproof. And yet, this tiny scrap of a woman stood there and boldly dressed him down, as if he were no more than a disobedient child.

Astonishingly, however, it was not resentment, but fascination that flowed through him.

Brianna Quinn had the sort of spirit that was all too rare among well-bred females. For God’s sake, any other woman would have been mindless with fear, or at the very least hysterical, after being threatened with rape by her stepfather. Brianna instead had boldly set upon a course to save herself, even daring to attend the most notorious ball in all of London.

“I will contact Stefan to ensure he knows of your troubles,” he promised, not bothering to inform her that he intended to deal with Thomas Wade in his own straightforward, if covert, fashion. “Until then you will stay with a friend. You must know someone in London.”

Her lips thinned at his sharp command. “I know several people in London, but none are in a position to prevent Thomas from taking me away. Only Stefan…”

Edmond frowned as her words came to an abrupt halt, her eyes narrowing as if she had been struck with a brilliant notion.

“Only Stefan, what?” he demanded, impatient to return to the ball and Howard Summerville now that he had solved the mystery of Brianna Quinn.

“Only Stefan can protect me.” Her chin tilted as a thin, determined smile curved those tempting lips. “And that is precisely what he is going to do.”

“I am certain he will, once he discovers your…”

“No, I cannot wait for Stefan to rush to the rescue. You are already here, after all, pretending to be Stefan. There is no reason I cannot move into the town house. Tonight.”

CHAPTER FOUR

EDMOND’S FEATURES TIGHTENED, his admiration for Brianna’s courage being replaced by a dark, seething anger.

Did the woman think he was sweet, tender-hearted Stefan who could be manipulated by every pathetic waif who crossed his path?

Or did she believe his unmistakable lust for her delectable body gave her power over him?

“I can only presume that is some sort of jest.” His voice was low and cutting as he stepped to loom over her in a threatening manner.

Her breath rasped loudly in the still air, but she refused to back away.

“Not in the least. All of London believes that the Duke of Huntley is currently residing in his town house. Why would he not invite his ward to come and stay with him?”

“Not even a ward can stay alone in the home of a bachelor. You would be ruined.”

“Not if you hire a companion,” she retorted stubbornly.

He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “So now I am not only to have my privacy invaded by a pesky, unwanted ward, but also a middle-aged dragon?” he taunted. “You truly have lost your wits if you think I would consider such a ridiculous notion for even a moment.”

She hissed in frustration. “You would rather allow me to be hauled off by my stepfather and raped?”

Edmond ignored the tide of black contempt. Thomas Wade would soon be no more than a forgotten corpse. For now, Edmond was much more concerned with this aggravating minx standing before him.

“I assure you that the matter will be dealt with.”

“Forgive me if I do not entirely trust such an ambiguous promise,” she retorted, her expression bitter.

“It will have to do.”

She remained silent for a brief moment, as if waging some inward struggle. Then, drawing in a deep breath, she met his glittering gaze squarely.

“No, it will not have to do.” Her voice wavered before she gathered her nerve and continued. “You seem to forget that I have a means of compelling you to take me into the town house.”

Edmond stilled, his predatory nature coiled and prepared to strike as he sensed danger. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulders, hauling her close enough that he was wrapped in warm lavender.

“Take care, Brianna, I do not respond well to blackmail.”

She swallowed heavily, but she was wise enough not to struggle against his biting grip.

“You have left me no choice,” she gritted. “Either you agree to take me in as your ward, or I will return to the ballroom and inform one and all that you are not Stefan.”

Edmond had been a powerful force in politics for the past eight years. He had intimidated, seduced, and at times deceived others into obeying his will.

Now this little wisp of a girl thought to bully him?

His fingers tightened. “You are a fool to threaten me, ma souris.”

“Not a fool, only desperate. I will not remain another night under the roof of my stepfather.”

With a jerk, he had her pressed against the door, his body leaning heavily into her slender form with an unmistakable warning.

“You believe you are any safer under my roof?” His voice deepened as that growingly familiar heat flowed through his blood. Brianna Quinn might be a stubborn, unruly wench, but she stirred his passions to a fever pitch. To have her sleeping just a few doors away would bring a certain end to her innocence. “I am not the oh-so-honorable Stefan. I do not rescue damsels in distress without expecting some sort of reward.”

She trembled, but not with fear. She might be a virgin, but she was vibrantly aware of the sizzling heat that pulsed between them.

“You do not have to remind me that you have always been a cad and a scoundrel.”

He arched a raven brow. “Well, then?”

“I do not gain control of my inheritance until my birthday in the spring, but I do have several jewels…”

His husky laugh filled the shadowed room. “I have no need for your money or jewels.”

She frowned in confusion, revealing just how innocent she truly was. “Then what sort of reward do you demand?”

Edmond deliberately allowed his heated gaze to run over her ivory features before lowering to rest on the slight swell of her breasts.

“Obviously, you have nothing to barter but your feminine charms.”

She attempted an expression of outrage, but Edmond did not miss the darkening of her magnificent eyes. She would never admit it, but she was not entirely averse to the thought of having those charms tasted. Perhaps even devoured.

“You are no better than Thomas,” she accused in a shaky voice.

Edmond smiled with cold intent, abruptly stepping back and tugging her from the door. He had wasted enough time. He was here to discover a murderer, not to seduce his brother’s ward. Stefan was far better suited to deal with such a mess.

He still intended to kill Thomas Wade. That was a given. But tonight, his priority was Howard Summerville.

“Then I suggest that you remain with your stepfather, where you belong, or find some other accommodations,” he informed her, releasing his hold so he could pull open the door.

“Damn you,” she hissed.

Edmond paused to cast a mocking glance over his shoulder. “You are too late, ma souris. I was damned years ago.”

IT WAS JUST PAST THREE in the morning when Brianna and her maid slipped through the back gate of the Huntley town house and made their way to the kitchen door.

Although only a few blocks away from her stepfather’s home, the two establishments could not be compared.

The entire area had once belonged to Westminster Abbey and had been taken into possession by Henry VIII. Later it was developed by the Curzon family, who named the neighborhood Mayfair after the annual fair that had once been held in the open fields.

Unlike many of the grand homes, Huntley House had been built by James Stuart, who preferred a plain exterior of pale stone and wrought-iron fencing to the more elaborate style of Robert Adam. The elegant interior, however, was a lavish display of wealth.

As a child, Brianna could recall entering the home and marveling at the split staircase that led to a formal landing that boasted heavy marble pillars and Grecian statues. A perfect setting for the Duke and Duchess to greet their guests in a truly regal fashion.

The jewel of the house, of course, was the neo-classical drawing room with its series of tall windows that extended the length of the house and overlooked Hyde Park. It was a room that had been near overwhelming for young Brianna, who had been terrified of destroying some priceless work of art.

And now here she was, about to enter the house as a thief.

More unnerved by the realization than she cared to admit, Brianna set down the heavy bags she had carried from her home, and watched as her maid bent over the door knob to study the lock in the faint moonlight.

The two women were currently hidden in the shadowed alcove of the servants’ entrance, having slipped through the mews to the back of the grand town house. Behind them, the silence of the sunken rose garden offered the sense of being isolated from the hustle and bustle of London, but Brianna was no fool. Huntley House employed over a dozen servants, any one of which could make an untimely arrival.

“Can you do it, Janet?” she whispered.

Janet straightened, her round face somber. “Aye, it be a simple enough lock.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Are ye certain this is a wise notion, Miss Quinn?” the maid demanded, her words abrupt. “The way ye speak of the gent makes me fear that ye are leaping from the frying pan right into the fire.”

Brianna suppressed her instinctive shudder.

When Edmond had abandoned her in that bedchamber at the masked ball, she had been momentarily paralyzed with fear, knowing she had no one left to turn to.

It had seemed very much like she was doomed.

And then, gathering her shattered courage, Brianna had squared her shoulders and made perhaps the most dangerous decision of her life.

Edmond might not desire to help her, but it was no less than his duty. He was pretending to be Stefan, so he could bloody well take on Stefan’s responsibilities, including his obligation to save her from Thomas Wade.

Her mind settled, Brianna had silently slipped back into her house and awakened Janet, who was sleeping in a chair beside Brianna’s empty bed. The maid had not been pleased with the daring notion, but grumbling beneath her breath, she had at last assisted Brianna in shoving what clothing she could fit in her valises.

In less than an hour, Brianna and Janet had been sneaking through the dark streets, avoiding the traffic as the nobles returned home after their night of revelry. There had been a brief stop in the stables to ensure that Edmond had not yet returned before they slipped through the back gate and followed the flagstone path past elegant statues and lavish fountains to the mansion.

If Edmond would not help her willingly, then he would do so unwillingly.

“Edmond is no prize, but he is certainly preferable to Thomas Wade,” she muttered.

“But if this man has promised to contact the Duke, then…”

“I cannot take the risk of waiting,” Brianna interrupted. “If Thomas should even suspect that I am attempting to flee, he will have me hauled off to Norfolk before I could do a thing to stop him.”

Janet heaved a heavy sigh. “I suppose that is true enough.”

“I will sell my soul to the devil before I allow that to happen.”

“Mayhap that is what yer about to do,” Janet muttered, removing a thin strip of metal from her pocket before efficiently setting about tripping the lock.

The maid rarely spoke about her childhood, but Brianna knew Janet had been the child of one of London’s most notorious thieves. And that, until she had fled the underworld, she had learned many tricks of the trade. Such talents had come in handy more than once.

There was a faint click and then the tumble of the locks before the door swung open. Brianna heaved out a deep breath of relief. She knew that Edmond would be returning at any moment, and she had to be firmly settled into the house before he arrived.

Lifting her heavy baggage, Brianna brushed past her maid and entered the kitchen. If anyone was to be shot as a housebreaker, it was only fair that she take the bullet.

Thankfully, there was no sound of gunfire as she stepped over the threshold and glanced about the long room.

There was nothing more threatening than the bundles of herbs hanging from the open-beamed ceiling, a stack of gleaming copper pots and the flicker of dying embers from the massive stone fireplace.

With a gesture toward Janet, Brianna silently crossed the stone floor, keeping her gaze trained on the distant door that led to the private servants’ quarters. She skirted the long wooden tables, her stomach rumbling at the scent of freshly baked bread and raspberry pastries that had been left to cool. It was tempting to linger a moment and indulge her sweet tooth with one of the delicate tarts, but with a stern effort, she continued onward, ducking through the arched doorway that led to the back staircase.

If she did not find herself in the gutter in the morning, she could enjoy all the tarts she desired. For the moment, only sheer luck would allow them to reach the guest chambers before being caught.

Darkness shrouded the narrow flight of steps, and Brianna cursed softly as she was forced to slow to a snail’s pace. Whatever her panicked sense of urgency, she would not risk breaking her neck by charging up the uneven wooden stairs.

Placing her hand on the stone wall, she struggled upward, concentrating on each step. By the time she reached the third floor, her breath was rasping loudly in the silence and her back was aching from the unaccustomed strain of carrying her heavy bags. She paused long enough to fumble with the door, her heart lodging in her throat as the hinges squeaked in protest.

To her fevered imagination, the sound seemed to carry throughout London.

Had she alerted the entire house to her presence?

With Janet pressed nervously against her back, Brianna forced herself to count to ten. When there was no rush of servants, no cries of alarm, she allowed herself to suck in a deep breath of relief and step from the stairwell.

The wide corridor was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight from the nearby candelabra, revealing the vaulted ceiling and fine plasterwork that had been painted a pale ivory. The Persian carpet shimmered with vivid reds and blues and gold, reflected in the framed pier mirrors that lined the walls.

She was attempting to recall which of the numerous doors led to the guest chambers when a hulking shadow detached itself from the wall to reveal a large man with a hawkish face and fierce pair of blue eyes. Brianna froze in shock. Although the man was attired in the Huntley livery, she did not believe for a moment that he was any simple servant. He looked like a soldier.

Or an assassin.

“What is this?” he growled, his thick accent unmistakably Russian. “What do you think to do?”

This had to be the oaf that Janet had confronted earlier, and with that accent most certainly one of Edmond’s men.

Damnation. There was nothing to do but brave it out.

“Allow me to introduce myself.” Once again dropping the bags, Brianna performed an elegant curtsey. “I am Miss Quinn, the Duke of Huntley’s ward. I will be staying here for a few days, as will my maid.”

Brows that matched the man’s thick golden hair drew together in wary disbelief. “I have been told nothing of a ward. You will leave now.”

Brianna tilted her chin to a haughty angle. She may not have royal blood running through her veins, but her father was first cousin to an Earl and she could feign a conceited self-worth when necessary. And sometimes even when it was not necessary.

“I most certainly will not be leaving. This is my home now.”

“You will leave, or I will toss you out.”

“You would dare to lay a hand on the Duke’s legal ward?” she said, her voice pure ice.

“I was told to keep everyone out.” The man began to walk toward her. “That is what I will do.”

Brianna was quite convinced that the man intended to toss her out. Even if it meant hauling her to the curb screaming and kicking. It was clearly time to reveal her one and only weapon.

“Before you take another step, I must warn you that I have given a note to a friend with instructions that, unless she hears from me first thing in the morning, it is to be posted to the London Times,” she said, her voice echoing through the wide corridor with as much courage as she could muster.

At least the menacing servant came to a halt, his pale eyes glittering with the wariness of a seasoned warrior. He clearly sensed that she was not bluffing.

“What do I care of this note?”

She felt Janet move to stand at her side, as if the maid was preparing to protect her from the man—a brave, if rather foolish, display of loyalty.

“The note will inform all of London that it is not the Duke of Huntley who is staying in this town house, but rather his younger twin, Lord Edmond,” she said, a smile curving her lips as the man gave a revealing jerk of surprise. “I doubt your master would appreciate such information becoming the source of tomorrow morning’s fodder.”

“How did you…”

Not about to lose the brief advantage she held, Brianna grabbed her valises and headed for the nearest bedchamber.

“Come along, Janet. We will have to wait until morning to speak with Edmond.”

Stepping into the shadowed room, Brianna firmly shut the door in the face of the servant, dropped her bags and fumbled to turn the heavy key in the lock.

“Ye are going to get us strangled in our sleep,” Janet muttered in the dark.

“Nonsense.” Holding out a hand to keep from banging into the furniture, Brianna searched for the mantle where there would surely be a flint to light the candles. “Edmond might be a coldhearted cad, but Stefan would never forgive him if he murdered me.”

Janet heaved a deep sigh. “I would sleep a mite easier if you dinna sound as if ye were trying to convince yerself and not me.”

EDMOND LEANED AGAINST the doorjamb and silently studied the female curled in the middle of the vast, canopied bed.

His breath caught at the sight of the morning sunlight shimmering in the lush hair spread across the pillows and warming the delicate ivory features. He’d expected the vision he had carried in his head from the previous night to be tarnished in the harsh light of day. No woman could possibly be as exquisite as he had imagined.

But he was mistaken.

Christ, she was even lovelier.

He battled against the primal urge to pluck her tiny body from beneath the covers and carry her to his bed where she belonged. What the devil was the matter with him? Brianna Quinn might be a beauty, but he was not about to forgive her blatant intrusion into his home.

When he had returned home last eve after futile hours of trying to locate Howard Summerville, he had been stunned to discover from Boris that two females had locked themselves in one of the guest chambers and that one of them had threatened to send a note to the London Times naming him as Edmond.

His first thought had been to break down the door and toss Brianna into the nearest gutter. The devilish chit was a distraction he did not need. Unfortunately, while he did not believe her bluff for a moment, he could not be entirely certain that she would not scream bloody murder and waken all of London if he dared to haul her from the house.

Brianna Quinn had been clever enough to outwit him for the moment, but that did not mean she held all the cards.

He had every intention of ensuring she paid, and paid dearly, for daring to cross him.

Straightening from the jamb, Edmond stepped into the room decorated in a delicate French style with amber wall panels and Savonneirie tapestries framed above the carved chimneypiece. The furniture was made of lemonwood and covered with pretty English chintz that his grandmother had considered de rigueur for a London town house.

Closing the door and turning the key he had retrieved from his housekeeper, Edmond approached the bed. Barefoot and wearing nothing more than a dressing robe, he made no sound as he crossed the Persian carpet.

He paused just a moment to savor the delicate lines of her face. The straight line of her nose, the lush curve of her lips, the thick fan of lashes that lay against the pale ivory skin.

A sleeping Aphrodite.

His hand reached out of his own accord to stroke the sleep-flushed cheek, only to pull back as if he were burned. He was here to rid himself of the pestilent woman, not entangle himself even deeper into her fascinating web.

With a sharp motion, he reached to grasp the quilt and jerked it aside to reveal her tiny form covered only by a thin chemise.

Brianna’s eyes flew open as she squeaked in alarm, an alarm that only deepened as her wide gaze caught sight of Edmond hovering over her.

“Edmond.”

He curved his lips in a cold smile. “Well, well, I see that Boris was not mistaken. My home was infested by little mice during the night.”

She reached down to tug at the cover, muttering in frustration when he refused to release his hold.

“For God’s sake, are you trying to give me heart failure?”

“Heart failure is the least of your worries,” he drawled, not bothering to resist temptation as he slid into the silken sheets behind her reclined form and gathered her trembling body to spoon intimately against his. “I did warn you what would happen if you stayed beneath my roof.”

She stiffened in shock as his hands touched her, exploring the slender curves with the confident assurance of a well-seasoned seducer.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

His head lowered to stroke his lips over the bare skin of her shoulder, brushing aside the narrow ribbon holding up her chemise to taste of her lavender-scented skin.

“Claiming my reward,” he murmured, nipping the curve of her neck before soothing it with his lips.

“Stop this. Edmond…” She caught her breath as his hands found the proud curve of her breasts, strumming his thumbs over the sensitive tips. “Dear lord.”

“Do you like that, ma souris?” he whispered next to her ear, allowing his tongue to trace the delicate shell.

“No, you cannot,” she groaned, her hands lifting to cover his own, although they made no effort to halt the soft caresses.

“Perhaps you prefer this.” He teased the tender nipples until they hardened to tight little buds, his cock growing thick with need as she moaned in pleasure. “Yes, sing that sweet song for me.”

Kissing a path down the curve of her neck, Edmond breathed deeply of her intoxicating scent, one hand slipping down to press flat against her stomach, urging her backside more firmly against his aching erection.

He had started this to frighten the minx into fleeing his home, to prove to her that he would not be cajoled or threatened or manipulated into taking her in. His purpose in joining her on the bed, however, was swiftly being forgotten beneath the searing flood of hunger that pulsed through his body.

He would be driven mad if he did not have her soon.

Still caressing her breast with one hand, Edmond allowed the other to slip over her stomach and down to the delectable heat between her legs. He hissed in pleasure as he felt the dampness through the thin material of her chemise.

She wanted him. Her body could not lie.

Debating whether to simply lift her leg over his hip and enter her from behind or to lay her on her back so he could watch her face as she received him into her body, Edmond was caught off guard as she suddenly began to struggle against his hold.

“No.” Squirming with determination, she managed to turn to face him, although he refused to allow her to break free. The green eyes smoldered with a combination of anger and terrified desire. “Damn you, Edmond. All I ask for is your protection until Stefan can become my legal guardian. Is that too great a burden to you?”

He growled in frustration. “You have no notion whatsoever.”

“I promise not to be any bother. You will not even know I am here…”

“Mon dieu,” he rasped. “You cannot be that innocent.”

Her brows drew together in annoyance. “What do you mean?”

“This.”

Without a shred of modesty, Edmond grasped her hand and tugged it beneath his dressing robe. Brianna made a sound of shock as he wrapped her fingers around the hard thrust of his erection.

“Dear God,” she breathed, her gaze trapped by the searing heat in his eyes.

“This is what you do to me simply by being near,” he growled. “If you remain here, I will have you.”

“You do not even like me,” she protested, her voice oddly breathless.

His hand remained wrapped around hers, but it was Brianna who began to stroke slowly downward, as if curious in spite of herself at the feel of his throbbing erection. She reached his heavy sack before she moved back to the tip, her thumb brushing the bead of moisture that had gathered. Edmond moaned at the exquisite sensations that exploded through his body. He had nothing more than her fingers on him, but she offered more pleasure than any number of women who had devoted hours to bringing him to climax.

“You are a desirable woman and I am a man who possesses a fine appreciation for such beauty,” he managed to mutter, his voice raw as the pressure began to build with a stunning swiftness. “Christ…yes. That feels so good.” He shifted, then scattered kisses over her startled face. “Squeeze harder.”

She shivered beneath his soft kisses, her breath rasping loudly in the air.

“Edmond, I do not think…”

“Precisely.”

“What?”

“Do not think.”

Smothering her lips in a demanding kiss, Edmond closed his eyes and allowed himself to savor the bliss of her slender fingers tightening around his cock as his hips pumped forward. He had known the moment he had gazed into those magnificent green eyes that it would be like this. A searing, mind-shattering desire that stripped a man of his thin veneer of civilization.

The next time he experienced this, he intended to be buried deep inside her as she screamed her own release.

Edmond plunged his tongue into the wet heat of her mouth as his hands toyed with her straining breasts, tasting her heady sweetness as his muscles clenched with a sharp, sudden pinnacle of delight.

“Brianna.”

With a wrenching groan, he turned onto his stomach to release his seed into the sheets.

CHAPTER FIVE

BRIANNA WAS AN INNOCENT, well-reared maiden who had been taught that any intimacy should be conducted only between a husband and wife, and she knew that she should be shocked and horrified with what had just occurred.

But she could not deny a dark fascination as she watched Edmond’s beautiful features twist with what appeared to be intense pleasure, a pleasure that she’d briefly tasted as his hands and lips had explored her body.

For a wild moment, she had wanted to allow his experienced caresses to continue, to discover precisely where the tingling sensations would carry her. It was only fear, and a stubborn refusal to concede so easily to this aggravating man, that had brought her to her senses.

Now, she could not deny a sense of frustration, as if her body were determined to punish her for denying it the satisfaction Edmond seemed to offer.

Dear heavens, what was the matter with her?

She had spent months fending off Thomas’s repulsive touches, even those of her few suitors who attempted more than a chaste kiss. The mere thought of having their hands on her breasts had been enough to make her physically ill.

But with Edmond…it was not revulsion that she felt.

Far from it.

With a low, husky laugh, Edmond rolled to face her, his dark hair charmingly tousled and his face sinfully handsome in the morning light.

“Now, that is a perfect means to beginning a day, ma souris,” he murmured, his hand lifting to lazily play with an auburn curl that lay against her cheek. “Of course, I should have preferred to be snugly tucked between your thighs. Next time, I will be deep inside you when I find my release.”

Lightning streaked through her body at his casual words, the image of Edmond poised above her as he tutored her in the pleasures of passion all too vivid.

“There will be no next time.”

He gave her curl a sharp tug. “Then you intend to leave?”

Something that might have been pain briefly clenched her heart. Ridiculous, of course. The man had no doubt enjoyed the delights of hundreds of women, far more fully than with her. Why would a few meaningless moments alter his desire to be rid of her?

“You’ve…had your pleasure, surely that has earned me a few days?” she retorted, sharply.

Without warning, Brianna discovered herself flat on her back with Edmond’s heavy body pinning her to the mattress. She swallowed a groan as he grasped her hands and tugged them over her head, his mouth skimming down the length of her neck in a path of searing fire.

“So long as you are near, I will want you. And if you do not flee, I will be your lover,” he muttered, exploring the line of her gaping neckline. “Mon dieu. Perhaps it is already too late for flight.”

“Edmond…” The words became choked in her throat as his mouth found the tip of her breast through her chemise. “Oh.”

Brianna closed her eyes as her entire body jerked in response. Was this heaven? She had never dreamed such exquisite sensations existed. It was enough to steal the wits of even the most intelligent woman.

His tongue circled her sensitive nipple, drawing low moans from deep in her throat. At the same time, his leg was pressing between hers to part them wide enough for him to settle his hips between her thighs.

Brianna gasped as her chemise was bunched around her hips and the feel of his hair-roughened legs brushed against her. Then, he settled even deeper and the hard thrust of his arousal pressed at the sensitive flesh between her legs.

Oh, this was…wicked. And wondrous. And so amazingly dangerous.

Edmond sucked in a sharp breath, as if he were as shocked by the violent jolt of pleasure as she.

“Damn you,” he breathed, his eyes a stormy blue that spoke of his tumultuous emotions.

Uncertain why he was angered, Brianna parted her lips to demand an explanation only to have the words halted as a sharp rap on the door made them both freeze in shock.

“Sir,” a muffled voice echoed through the door.

“Go away, Boris,” Edmond snarled, his fierce gaze never wavering from her wide eyes.

“We have an intruder,” the servant retorted.

“Get rid of them,” Edmond commanded, his tone promising severe retribution for the interruption.

“It is Miss Quinn’s stepfather,” Boris insisted. “He has threatened to call for the constable if he is not allowed to see his daughter.”

“Dear lord,” Brianna breathed, stark fear clenching her heart. “How has he found me so swiftly? How has he found me at all?”

Muttering what she assumed were foul Russian curses, Edmond lifted himself from the bed and roughly tied the belt of his robe.

“Get dressed.”

“No. I will not go back to him.” Scrambling off the bed, Brianna pressed herself against the wall, shaking her head in horror. “I will throw myself out the window, I swear it.”

“It is too early for such theatrics, ma souris,” he drawled, all hint of passion replaced with a shimmering fury. “Get dressed and come downstairs.”

“Do you intend to hand me over to him?”

“Either that or I will toss you out the window myself.” His gaze ran a grudging path down her slender body barely hidden by the thin chemise. “You are a complication I do not want and do not need.”

“If you do this, all of London will know that you are not Stefan,” she warned. “You seem to forget that I have a note revealing your true identity written and prepared to be sent to the Times.”

A smile twisted his lips. “Your maid has been locked in her chamber, with no possibility of escape until I decide to release her. And since I doubt you have had the opportunity to actually deliver a note to anyone else from the time you left the ball until you forced your way into my home, I feel fairly confident that my secret is safe.”

Her own ready temper flared. “You are a…a coldhearted bastard. How you could possibly be related to Stefan defies imagination.”

With pathetic ease, he grasped her chin and tilted her face upward. His lips covered hers in a raw, demanding kiss.

“Get dressed and come downstairs,” he commanded against her lips. “Boris will wait for you. If you try to run, I will order him to tie and gag you and haul you downstairs.”

Without waiting for her reply, he crossed the room and yanked open the door. He spoke briefly with the looming giant waiting in the hall before turning to send one last warning glance as he shut the door in her face.

EDMOND WAS LIVID AS HE returned to his bedchambers and forced himself to prepare for his unwelcome guest.

He barely noticed as his valet shaved him in well-trained silence and styled his hair in the manner his brother preferred, although he did rouse himself enough to choose a fitted jacket in a Cambridge blue that was matched with a blue and silver waistcoat. He also took personal charge of the linen cravat that he tied in an intricate mathematical knot.

Still, his thoughts remained consumed with Miss Brianna Quinn. Damnation. The woman threatened to ruin everything. First with her blatant threats to expose his identity, and now by dragging her troubles into his home.

In a mood that boded ill for Thomas Wade, Edmond made his way down to the front anteroom where the intruder had been left to cool his heels. He paused in the doorway to study the large man with the thick, florid features and heavy jowls of his ancestors. Despite being properly attired in a dark jacket and white waistcoat, Wade still looked more a butcher than a gentleman as he uncomfortably perched on the edge of a delicate Louis XIV chair.

Another wave of murderous fury raced through Edmond at the mere thought of the man’s hands on Brianna, his fat, disgusting body heaving above her. Damn, he’d see Thomas Wade at the bottom of the Thames first.

At last realizing he was no longer alone, Wade surged to his feet, his small eyes glittering with a hard anger.

“About time you decided to make an appearance, Huntley,” he growled, his accent still hinting of his humble origins. “You are fortunate I am a patient man, otherwise you would have had the constables on your doorstep.”

Stepping across the threshold, Edmond allowed his gaze to flick over the man in silent condemnation.

“You are a fool if you believe that any constable would darken the doorstep of a Duke.”

Wade curled his hands into tight fists at Edmond’s cool, taunting words.

“So you believe you are above the law?”

“Yes, actually I do.” Edmond casually strolled closer to Wade, inwardly judging the considerable bulk of his opponent. Perhaps in his youth Thomas Wade might have been capable of holding his own against Edmond, but now he was soft and flabby from years of self-indulgence. He was no more than a bully who hoped to intimidate others with his sheer size. “But that is not the point. If anyone is breaking the law it is you, Wade. By what right do you force your way into my home?”

“The right of any father to retrieve his only daughter.”

Edmond narrowed his gaze. “And what makes you so certain that she is here?”

“I have my means.”

Moving so swiftly that the older man had no opportunity to react, Edmond had Thomas slammed against the wall, his forearm pressed to the thick throat.

“I asked you a question,” he said, his soft, lethal voice making Wade pale in fear.

“What the hell do you think you are doing, Huntley?”

Edmond pressed his arm harder against the man’s throat. “I asked you a question.”

Wade made a choked sound as he struggled to breathe. “One of my servants heard her sneaking from the house last night and followed her here.”

“You are having her watched?”

The beady eyes held a wary glint, as if attempting to calculate just how much the Duke of Huntley might know of his nefarious plans for Brianna.

“What father would not desire to protect his daughter? London is a dangerous place for an innocent maiden,” he grunted.

“But she is not your daughter, is she?” Edmond pointed out. “She is only your stepdaughter.”

“She is in my care.”

“And in mine. As I recall, our guardianship is jointly held.”

Wade dropped his mouth in shock. Edmond did not entirely blame him. Stefan had been inexcusably negligent in ensuring that Brianna was secure and happy in her home. If his older brother had done his duty, she would not currently be creating chaos in his carefully laid plans.

“You have never taken an interest in the chit,” Wade gasped.

“An unfortunate oversight that I intend to correct immediately,” Edmond drawled, disgusted. “It was naive of me to think you could possibly be a man entrusted with the welfare of a young lady.”

The wariness deepened. “Are you impugning my honor?”

“What honor, you sick, pathetic maggot?” It was an effort not to snap the idiot’s fat neck. “I should do the world a favor and kill you now.”

“Dammit, Huntley, what did the wench tell you?” Wade blubbered, genuine fear bringing a layer of sweat to his brow. “Whatever it was, it was a lie.”

“Then you do not intend to take her to Norfolk in two days?”

“I…I think it best that we leave town for a short while. Brianna has not entirely recovered from the death of her mother, and the country air will do her good.” He forced a hoarse laugh that grated against Edmond’s temper. “Of course, like any young girl, she is angry to be taken from her friends and beaus. It is only natural she would do whatever necessary to stay in town.”

“So this trip is entirely for Brianna’s benefit?”

“Of course.”

“You bastard.” Abruptly shifting his hold, Edmond grasped the man’s lapels and gave him a violent shake. “You are taking her from London so you can force your disgusting attentions upon her.”

“No…”

“Do not even attempt to lie to me,” he growled. “I know the truth, and all of London will soon learn of it if you do not walk from this house and forget that you even know the name of Miss Brianna Quinn.”

Something that might have been desperation twisted the heavy features as Wade realized that Brianna might truly have slipped from his grasp.

“By gads, she is my daughter,” he rasped. “You cannot simply take her from me.”

“I already have.”

“I will petition for her return,” Wade blustered, his voice shrill. “Her mother left her in my care.”

Edmond frowned at the hectic glitter in the man’s eyes and the spittle forming at the edges of his mouth. Mon dieu, Thomas Wade was clearly at the edge of sanity.

At least when it came to matters of his stepdaughter.

“Her mother was a weak-willed fool who cared for nothing beyond the gaming tables. She would have sold Brianna to Beelzebub for a few quid.” He needed to make very certain that Thomas Wade understood the price of creating a scandal. Until he had the time necessary to covertly rid the world of the nasty creature, it was vital to keep his mouth shut. “And I would caution you against bringing the smallest breath of attention to Brianna’s change in residence. Not unless you wish me to inform the entire ton of what you intended for your stepdaughter.”

Wade’s harsh breath echoed through the ante room. “It would be her word against mine.”

Edmond smiled with the ingrained arrogance of a true aristocrat. “No, it would be the Duke of Huntley’s word against a mere son of a butcher. Who do you think they would believe?”

The beefy face turned from purple to crimson as the smooth insult sliced through his pride.

“I am not without influence. Money does have a few benefits.”

“Then let me raise the stakes.” Edmond smiled with icy intent. “If you make one attempt to try and take Brianna from my care, I will castrate you.”

Wade gave a shudder of alarm, then his gaze shifted over Edmond’s shoulder and a stark hunger filled his eyes. Edmond did not need to turn to know that Brianna had entered the room.

Suddenly, he wished that he had not insisted that the chit come down.

“Brianna…” Wade attempted to step forward only to be shoved roughly back against the wall. “Damn. My dear, tell this madman to release me.”

There was a brief hesitation before Brianna moved to stand beside Edmond, appearing far too tempting in her poppy India muslin gown decorated with small sprigs of gold. Matching ribbons were threaded through the auburn curls she had pulled to a high knot atop her head. Even without ornamentation, she appeared as young and fresh as a spring breeze.

“This madman happens to be my guardian and the Duke of Huntley,” she retorted, her expression frigid.

Wade futilely struggled against Edmond’s hold, desperate to reach Brianna.

“Please, you must listen to me, my dear. This has all been some terrible misunderstanding,” he cajoled. “If you would just return home, we could settle this in private.”

Edmond sensed Brianna’s shudder of horror as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “This is my home now.”

“Brianna, do not be a fool.” The older man shot Edmond a venomous glare. “This man is practically a stranger to you. Certainly he has made no effort to claim his right as a guardian before today. He will no doubt marry you off to the first bounder he can convince to ask for your hand, just to be rid of you.”

“It would be a preferable fate than remaining with you.”

“How can you say that, after all I have done for you and your mother?”

Brianna pressed even closer to Edmond, clearly taking comfort in his presence.

“You destroyed any loyalty I might have felt toward you when you attempted to rape me,” she hissed.

“I think that is a fitting end to this unpleasant encounter.” Keeping his grim hold on the lapels of Wade’s jacket, Edmond hauled him toward the door. “It is time you return to the gutter that spit you out.”

Struggling against his inevitable fate, Thomas Wade wrenched his head around to cast Brianna a frantic gaze.

“No, damn you. Brianna. You belong with me, and I will not allow anyone to stand between us.”

With a violent shove, Edmond had the man through the vast foyer and out the door held open by his footman.

“Boris, keep an eye on the bastard,” he commanded, turning his back as Thomas Wade stumbled down the steps, followed closely by the massive Russian assassin.

Halting before the mirror, Edmond calmly adjusted his cravat and smoothed his jacket. He had rid himself of one rodent, now he had to decide what was to be done with his beautiful little mouse.

STANDING BESIDE THE TALL window, Brianna watched in a numbed sort of fascination as Thomas climbed unsteadily into his carriage and was driven away.

A part of her wanted to feel relief that she was seemingly safe from her stepfather, who had been well and truly trounced by Edmond. What man would dare to return after such a humiliation?

Her far more sensible part, however, knew that whatever had prompted Edmond to dismiss Thomas with such disdain had nothing to do with assisting her. He cared only for his mysterious reasons for being in London, and if she threatened those plans, she would be offered the same brutal treatment.

If not worse.

A shiver shook her body as she sensed Edmond return. She had no need to turn and confirm his presence. Every nerve she possessed seemed suddenly attuned to him.

It was odd. As a child, she had been overawed by his intimidating presence, at times even frightened by those brilliant blue eyes that seemed to see everything. She never would have thought she could feel anything but unease while in his company. He was nothing at all like sweet, gentle Stefan, who had somehow understood the stark loneliness of her childhood and always made her feel welcome at Meadowland.

She certainly hadn’t thought she’d feel this powerful awareness that made her heart jump and her stomach clench in pleasure.

“Why did you not turn me over to him?” she demanded, needing the answer to the question that had haunted her since she had walked down the staircase and heard Edmond threaten to castrate her stepfather.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps as he moved to stand directly at her back. A tingle of excitement trickled down her spine and, stifling a gasp, she turned to confront him.

That, of course, only made matters worse. Her breath caught in her throat. He was so…beautiful. The elegant line of his masculine features, eyes the perfect blue of a cloudless sky, dark curls that held the gloss of polished ebony, blended together to create nothing less than a masterpiece.

Edmond studied her with a brooding expression.

“Because I am not yet done with you, ma souris.”

Brianna frowned, uncertain what to make of his words, then with an inward shrug, she turned her thoughts back to her most pressing concern.

“Do you think he is gone for good?”

“I do not believe he will dare to attempt to storm this citadel again, but I should be very surprised if he has actually given up his obsession to have you.” His expression hardened. “The very fact that you have become inaccessible will only feed his madness.”

She pressed a hand to her heaving stomach. Damn Thomas Wade. And damn her mother for leaving her at the mercy of the demented monster.

“I must leave London.”

“And go where?”

“You could send me to Meadowland in your coach.” Without even realizing what she was doing, Brianna reached out to grasp his arm in sudden hope. Of course. She should have thought of it the moment she realized that it was Edmond rather than Stefan in London. “I would surely be safe with your servants to protect me.”

“Why did you not flee to Stefan before now?” he demanded.

“Because I would have been forced to take a stagecoach, and Thomas could easily have overtaken me before I reached Meadowland.” She shrugged. “Besides, Stefan never responded to my letters. For all I knew, he might have been away from the estate and then what would I have done?”

He studied her with a hooded gaze. “I do not doubt you would have thought of something. You are a very…” He deliberately allowed his words to trail away as his gaze lowered to the modest neckline of her gown. “Resourceful sort of female.”

A blush stole beneath her cheeks, but she refused to rise to the bait. She had done what was necessary. She would not feel shame for that.

She squared her shoulders and pasted a smile to her lips. “Now, however, I can be certain Stefan is there and with your carriage…”

“No.”

“Why ever not? You do not want me here and I would far prefer to be with Stefan. It is the perfect solution.”

“Except for the fact that, so far as the world is concerned, Stefan is here in London while Edmond is in charge of Meadowland,” he said succinctly. “Do you not think it would stir curiosity if I were to send my newly acquired ward to stay in a home with my renowned rake of a brother?”

She dropped her hand and stared at him with a wary confusion. Why was he being so difficult? He could not have made it more obvious that he wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. He should be delighted by the notion of sending her off to Meadowland.

“You could say that I was ill and in need of the country air,” she pointed out slowly.

His lips twisted. “Then it will be speculated that I made you pregnant and banished you to Meadowland until the babe is born.”

“That is absurd,” she choked out, her skin feeling oddly hot and far too tight for her body. “You just arrived in London, how could you possibly have made me pregnant?”

Edmond shrugged, his lightly bronzed features unreadable. “Stefan does come to London to attend his duties in the House of Lords, although he rarely opens the town house. Besides, gossip has no need to make sense.”

It was true enough. She had been in London long enough to know that spreading rumors was the ton’s favorite pastime. And the more outrageous and titillating the scandal, the more it was enjoyed.

Still, she found it ridiculous to suppose anyone would believe Stefan capable of seducing and abandoning his own ward.

“Even supposing that a few spiteful tongues wag, it hardly matters.”

“It happens to matter a great deal,” he snapped, stepping close enough for the heat of his body to sear through her thin muslin gown. “I am attempting to avoid any unnecessary attention being drawn to my visit here in London, a task that has become considerably more difficult, thanks to your interference.”

Brianna was effectively trapped as she struggled not to react to the scent of sandalwood and warm male.

“You still have not told me why you are pretending to be Stefan.”

“I rarely reveal my secrets to a proven blackmailer.”

Stung by his mocking tone, Brianna lifted her hands to shove them against his chest.

“But you are willing to take one as your lover?”

The blue eyes darkened, and without warning, his hands grasped her arms to jerk her against his chest.

“Do you need further proof, ma souris? Shall I take you here and now?”

Not at all certain that she could resist the desire to allow him to do whatever he wanted to her trembling body, Brianna gave a desperate shake of her head.

“Please, Edmond.”

“Please, what?”

“Please send me to Stefan.”

Edmond stepped back, his nose flaring with something that might have been anger.

“Never.”

“But…”

“Enough.” Turning on his heel, Edmond stormed toward the door, pausing at the threshold to scowl over his shoulder. “You were foolish enough to force your way into this house. Now you will endure the consequences.”

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