“I’m not used to making women angry. So an apology is in order.”

Kate blinked in surprise. This was the last thing she had expected. In fact, she had assumed that he would be angry with her, not the other way around.

“You’re sorry, then?” she asked tentatively.

“Somewhat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘somewhat’?”

“Well,” he answered, spinning her around, “I suppose I shouldn’t have teased you so much, but I’m not sorry. And,” he said, his amber eyes wandering over her face, “I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I’m definitely not sorry.”

“Oh?” She felt as if she was melting beneath his gaze.

“But I am sorry that I told you to leave. That, sweetheart, was a real pity.”

PRAISE FOR SARAH ELLIOTT and her debut novel REFORMING THE RAKE

“A fun, frothy story! Charming!”

—New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James

“Sarah Elliott writes with elegance and wit.”

—Jessica Benson, author of The Accidental Duchess

“A deliciously sexy romance, [Elliott’s] deftly written debut will delight readers with its wonderfully endearing characters and wickedly sharp wit.”

—Booklist

“Debut author Elliott writes convincingly about how a tortured man can be healed by the love of a good woman.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“Reforming the Rake is a charming and engaging debut novel by a new writer with a fresh, exciting voice. This reviewer predicts a successful career for Sarah Elliott and cannot wait for her next book!”

—The Romance Readers Connection

The Rake’s Proposal
Sarah Elliott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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I am very grateful to Jessica Alvarez and Laura Langlie

for reading my books so thoroughly and for being

so patient and encouraging. A huge thanks also to

Alex Duda and Brad Davis, who generously

gave their time to design my website.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Chapter One

March 1817

T he world seemed to look favorably upon Katherine Sutcliff. Her face and figure were admired, at least by the residents of Little Brookings, her tiny Dorset village. Her mind and humor were considered quick and sharp. She had ample funds and a loving family who forgave her occasional lapses of memory, decorum and common sense.

Of course, her life was not as tranquil and carefree as it appeared: she had at least one—secret and very serious—problem.

Her most immediate dilemma, however, was her inability to fall asleep.

She lay in bed, sighed and stared at the ceiling. She’d been trying for at least two hours, and neither warm milk nor a large dose of Milton’s Samson Agonistes had helped at all. Even conjugating irregular French verbs had failed.

Kate supposed she could blame her insomnia on simple nerves and an unfamiliar bed. It was only about twelve hours since she’d arrived—dusty from several days of travel—at her brother Robert’s smart London doorstep. He would be getting married in the autumn, and she planned to stay with him in town until that time. That meant she’d be there for the entire season, and although she’d resigned herself to this fate, she wasn’t too pleased about it. Oh, she got on with her brother tremendously well—it was the reason behind her visit that was causing her distress.

She needed to get married herself. She didn’t want to, but there it was.

Kate sat up in bed, Milton sliding dejectedly to the floor as she did so. Marriage. It was a horrible but unignorable fact, and the only way to get that horrible thought from her mind, even temporarily, was…

A glass of brandy, preferably a large one. That would at least make her sleepy; it had better, since simple determination wasn’t doing the trick.

She climbed out of bed, pulling on her robe as she did so, and slipped out her bedroom door. She padded lightly down the spacious hallway toward the study, feeling rather furtive beneath the disapproving glares of looming ancestral portraits. The house was completely silent, and even though she was doing nothing wrong, she crept along guiltily like a thief. Everything in her brother’s house was large and dark, and she felt dwarfed inside it. She pulled open the heavy study door, lit a lamp, and in the dim light poured a generous glass of brandy. Robert’s study smelled vaguely of smoke. She pulled out the heavy leather chair at his desk. Sitting down in this ultra-masculine seat and regarding the room in front of her somehow made her feel more in control.

So, too, did the brandy.

Marriage. Most girls did it. Some even had to do it, and so what if she was joining their ranks? Surely worse things happened at sea.

Surely?

Several long minutes of mentally debating this question had passed when she became aware of a knocking at the front door. She listened intently for a moment and it came again, louder this time and more insistent. Standing, heart racing, she crossed the room to peek from the window. It was well after midnight and the sky was pitch-black, so dark that the stars shone against it in sharp relief. Kate could see a carriage in the drive, a very elegant gilt-trimmed one at that, and she could just make out the shadowy figure of a man at the door. It was too dark to see his face or any details of his form.

Another knock.

“Robert, you’re a bastard if you don’t let me in…I know you’re in there—your light’s on…I need to borrow a bed for the evening.” Knock, knock.

Kate made up her mind then and there. Her nervousness was ridiculous. She should really go rouse Robert’s butler, as it wasn’t entirely proper for her to open the door so late at night, particularly whilst wearing her dressing gown. But the butler would have gone to bed hours ago, and her dressing gown was so demure it was nunnish; her everyday dresses were more revealing, and that didn’t say much considering she was determinedly unfashionable. Besides, the man on the other side of the door was clearly just some friend of her brother’s, in search of nothing more than a place to rest his probably inebriated head for the rest of the night. Who but a friend would speak about him so disparagingly?

Still slightly uneasy, but convinced that she was being ridiculous, Kate walked into the hall. She squared her shoulders, pulled her thick dressing gown tightly around her body and opened the door.

Lord Benjamin Sinclair, eldest son of Viscount Sinclair, was nine-and-twenty, wealthy and handsome enough to make most women temporarily mute the first time they laid eyes on him. It was a rather odd experience, then, to have the tables turned: for a moment, it was he who forgot how to speak.

Hand upraised to pound on Robert’s godforsaken door one last time, he merely stared at the vision before him—one of the most stunning girls he’d ever seen. She was quite tall, reaching just past his shoulders, but despite her height she appeared almost delicate—slim frame, fair skin and full, slightly parted lips. Her eyes were indigo, and so surprised…crowning all this was glorious hair, cascading around her shoulders. Maybe it was merely brown in the light of day, but by candlelight her hair was the richest auburn, highlighted with strands of red and gold.

All this he digested slowly, indicating his interest through nothing more than a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Hello.”

Kate stared back. Shouldn’t she be the one speaking? Right now she wasn’t sure she knew what to say. The dark shadow she had seen from the window had done no justice to the man standing in front of her—tall, broad-shouldered…light brown hair streaked with gold, sun-burnished skin over chiseled jaw, accented by a snowy cravat and velvet coat…she realized she was gaping and closed her mouth. Speak, you ninny, speak.

“Hello.” Well, that was pathetic, she thought scornfully. Pull yourself together. “Are you a friend of Robert’s?”

Ben grinned, not missing a second of her reaction and frankly pleased that he had this effect on women. Who was this girl answering his friend’s door so late at night? Robert was engaged to be married and Ben had yet to meet his bride-to-be…he supposed this girl could be she, but it seemed unlikely. The wedding was still a few months off, and the bride-to-be would hardly be spending the night. It was also improbable that Robert would keep a mistress in his own home, if indeed he’d keep one at all given his upcoming nuptials. This girl’s innocent blush and cultured voice refuted such a possibility, anyway. Ben always liked a mystery, however, and as she didn’t appear ready to speak, he stepped through the door, brushing past her lightly on his way in.

“Are you?” he countered with seeming nonchalance, although his amber eyes were piercing as he turned to face her.

“What?”

“Friend or foe. You must be one or the other.”

Kate’s head began to clear as she realized that her own question had been turned around on her. “I suppose I’m a friend—when I’m not an enemy, that is. I’m Robert’s sister. And you are…?”

Understanding slowly clicked in Ben’s mind. “Friend. Benjamin Sinclair. Sorry to disturb you so late.” He let his gaze wander over her body, not really sorry at all. When she blushed, he continued. “You see, I’ve been at sea for the past several months…arrived only this evening. I didn’t want to spend another night aboard ship, and was going to go rouse my housekeeper…but then I saw the light on at ol’ Robert’s…has he retired for the evening?”

The man’s familiar name should have put Kate at ease. Benjamin Sinclair was one of Robert’s best friends, and she had actually met him many years ago when her brother had brought him home from school. Now that she knew his name, in fact, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t recognized him right away….

Oh, no. She was suddenly and distinctly ill at ease—was, in fact, ready to groan aloud as she recalled the one and only time she’d met Benjamin Sinclair. She’d been eleven and she’d dumped a glass of water on his head for teasing her. He’d disparaged her looks, an easy enough feat when she was a scrawny girl. He was so handsome, and she’d been so ugly then, so clumsy and unfeminine…she’d quite hated him for it. Thank goodness he didn’t seem to remember her.

Benjamin Sinclair was a scoundrel; his name was the stuff of legend. Stories of his misconduct had even made it as far as Little Brookings, and instead of relaxing, Kate was immediately on her guard. Perhaps it was the strange color of his eyes, neither a simple brown nor gold, but the way he looked at her made her exceedingly uncomfortable…uncomfortable and something else. A less familiar but equally disturbing sensation. She became suddenly and painfully aware of her inappropriate dress, her loose hair and her slippered feet peeking out from beneath her robe.

“He is asleep. I’m sorry. But please come in. I’ll wake Mr. Perch and he can prepare a room for you. Do you have any baggage?”

“Nothing that can’t remain in my carriage for the night. My driver can fetch it in the morning.” He motioned to his driver from the doorway and then closed the door behind him. “And please don’t bother about Perch. I’ll settle myself in somewhere. I usually take the green room…” At her blush, he grinned again, “…or is that where you sleep…Katherine?”

She blinked in surprise. “I haven’t given you leave to use my Christian name…I haven’t even told you my name. How do you know it, sir?”

“We’ve met before. I’m wounded that you don’t remember.”

“I do remember. I’d rather hoped you didn’t.” Kate practically squeaked this admission, thinking about how annoyed he’d been by the water…goodness, he’d even threatened retribution!

She had to ask. She just couldn’t help herself. “You don’t still plan to thrash me, do you?”

He looked utterly bewildered by her cheekiness. “Surely I didn’t say that.”

“You surely did,” Kate retorted.

“Then, yes, I suppose I must keep my word,” he rejoined, his lopsided smile belying his words.

Kate felt her face go up in flames and could have kicked herself for being so cheeky. Why could she never behave like the proper young lady she was? She was certainly no match for Robert’s rakish friend, and he seemed to know it. He didn’t bother to wait for her to respond, guessing—correctly—that she was speechless. Instead, he turned and entered the study. She heard the sound of a drawer being opened and the thud of a glass being placed on the table. He was pouring himself a drink.

What bloody nerve.

Kate closed her eyes and counted to ten.

“So, why are you up so late, Miss Sutcliff?” he called from within, forcing her to follow him to the study in order to answer his question. She didn’t fully enter the room, however, not wanting to commit to any more of his banter. She merely hovered by the door, mouth open, ready to tell him that she had only come down for a book and was now returning to bed.

But before she could formulate these words, he noted the half-empty glass of brandy perched on the desk. He raised an eyebrow. “Been drinking by yourself, have you?”

She cringed. “I was having trouble sleeping.”

“It’s a rather unhealthy habit, you know. Care for some company?”

Kate didn’t want his company, but he refilled her glass to match his, not giving her an opportunity to decline his invitation. He settled into the capacious leather chair—the one she’d occupied before his arrival—and nodded at the smaller chair across from it, indicating that she should sit as well.

She still hesitated in the doorway, sensing that the situation was beginning to get out of hand. “I really should go to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow, but thank you….”

Even as she turned down his offer, he rose from his chair, walked to the doorway where she stood and lightly grabbed her by the hand, placing her glass of brandy in it. His touch was hot, and his unsettling eyes never left her face—“no,” apparently, was not an acceptable answer. He returned to his seat, and Kate had no choice but to sit down as well. She gulped, her nervousness threatening to overwhelm her. He gazed at her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, and she raised her chin in annoyed defiance. Damn him. She didn’t know why he was forcing her to stay. She didn’t really know him, didn’t know what to say to him…the last thing she wanted to do was have a drink with this strange man in the middle of the night, and she suspected he knew it.

“Strange.”

“What?” Kate asked in alarm, afraid he’d somehow read her unkind thoughts.

“You’re not at all as I remembered you. I’d say you’ve definitely improved.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that qualifies as a compliment or not, as you give it at the expense of how I used to look.”

“Will you toss your brandy at me, perhaps?”

Kate blushed furiously, damning her fair complexion as she did so. She knew he was just toying with her, but something in his eyes—their darkness and the way his gaze moved over her body—made her feel like she was being seriously seduced.

She had to get out of there. It was getting far too dangerous. She’d have her drink as quickly as possible, and then make haste for her bedroom without wishing him a good night.

Resolved, Kate put her glass to her lips and drank: a big, hearty gulp. And therein lay her mistake. Somewhere on the way down the brandy made a wrong turn, and she ended up choking, spilling her drink down the front of her robe. Spluttering, she scraped back her chair and rose abruptly. This brought him even closer, handkerchief in hand.

“Steady, now. It’s not a race. One would almost think you were trying to get foxed, Miss Sutcliff.”

Kate could hear the amusement in his voice—he was hardly trying to conceal it—and despised him all over again. She’d never been so embarrassed, and her face was just as red from shame as it was from coughing. How had she allowed herself to get in this position? What respectable young lady in her right mind answered the door in her dressing gown so late at night? Perhaps she wasn’t in her right mind at all—she’d long suspected it, anyway. At the very least she was foolish.

As she continued to cough, he moved behind her to pat her on the back. After a minute passed and her coughing subsided, his pats slowed, his hand rubbing her gently and finally going still, its motionless weight practically burning her despite the thickness of her robe. Kate went motionless as well, almost violently aware of his large presence, so close to her body. He touched her with only his hand, never straying from the top of her back, and yet her whole body felt his caress. Her skin seemed to tighten, and she felt hot from the tips of her toes to every strand of hair. The feeling was so unfamiliar, she swayed under its intensity, unsure whether she was ill or well.

He wrapped his arm around her waist to quiet her unsteady form and slowly, deliberately, turned her around in his arms. Kate looked up, her body separated from his massive chest by mere inches, and made yet another great mistake. She looked into his eyes and became mesmerized by their color. Gold had smoldered into deepest, velvet brown, and she turned to liquid beneath his dark gaze.

Any air separating them vanished. Body touched body, and lips touched lips. She couldn’t think, didn’t want to think, didn’t want his kiss to end. He tasted of brandy, his mouth at once soft and hard. Slowly, her lips parted, surrendering without a fight, without the realization that she was surrendering.

And then it was over.

He released her and moved away to create a wall of space between them.

“I think you need to go to bed.”

Kate desperately tried to regain her composure. She couldn’t quite understand what had happened, or how, or what was happening now. So close just moments ago, he had resumed his seat at the desk and was in the process of refilling his glass. She shook her head, trying to clear it and make sense of his words.

“I think you need to go upstairs,” he repeated, his voice level, even cool.

She simply stared back, the shock of what had happened setting in. Here she was, making a conscious effort simply to remember to breathe, and he looked calm enough to pick up a newspaper and read. Shame crept over her yet again that evening.

And she was angry. Furious, in fact.

Kate grabbed the nearest object at hand, a massive copy of Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson. Anger willed that book to fly, and as it traversed the air, heading toward the desk, she fled from the room without a backward glance.

Chapter Two

E arly the next morning, Kate was seated at her dressing table, her brow furrowed in concentration. An impossible tangle of threads was spread out in her lap, the result of her clumsy efforts at embroidering a handkerchief for her brother—not something to be attempted again. Her sewing skills, along with her skills in just about every other feminine art, were minimal.

“Is everything all right, Miss Kate?”

She pricked her finger as she looked up from her work. Her lady’s maid, Mary, had just entered the room, a large basket of clothes in her arms. No, she answered Mary silently, everything is quite wrong. Even after she’d dashed out of the study last night, she’d been kept awake by images of dark, golden skin and warm, amber eyes. She hadn’t fallen asleep until dawn had begun to break.

“I’m fine, Mary—just woolgathering.”

Mary lowered the basket onto the bed, where she proceeded to fold the clothes with efficiency. She was not, apparently, particularly interested in what Kate was woolgathering about, and opened her favorite topic instead. “So. Tonight’s your brother’s engagement party…and your first real excursion into society. It could hardly come too soon.”

Kate rolled her eyes. Since her mother had died when she was just a baby, in many ways Mary had taken her place. Bossy, she was, and far too familiar. “Oh, Mary, please let’s not broach this subject quite yet. I’ve only just arrived here.”

“I can’t help it, Miss Kate. I’m just pleased that one of you will finally marry, even though I never suspected Lord Robert would be the first. Lady Charlotte Bannister must be a rather forceful young woman to have encouraged such honorable behavior in your brother.”

Kate had met Charlotte for the first time yesterday, and thought forceful was an apt, if understated, description. “I suppose.”

“And his wedding couldn’t have come at a more convenient time. Now you’ll be able to enjoy the full season, dear, and have the proper coming out that you deserve.”

“I’m twenty-four, Mary—an age hardly conducive to a proper coming out.”

“Well, you weren’t much to look at when you were eighteen—”

Since that particular wound had been reopened by Benjamin Sinclair only the night before, Kate answered with unusual heat. “Thank you, Mary, for putting my nerves at ease.”

Mary looked heavenwards for patience. “What I was going to say, m’lady, is that it wasn’t until the past few years that you’ve really come into your own anyway. It’s most unfortunate that your father’s illness prevented you from coming out sooner, but sometimes waiting can work to one’s advantage.”

Kate grumbled inaudibly and rose from the dressing table. She couldn’t argue. Robert’s wedding really did come at a convenient time. The fact was, she’d been contemplating spending the season in London even before her brother had announced his plans—she hadn’t really much choice about it. She, too, needed to get married, and the sooner the better.

Kate abandoned that worrying stream of thought and sat back down, this time on her bed. She changed the subject slightly. “I suspect Robbie thinks I’ve been a bit depressed since our father’s death last year. I have been reclusive, and I haven’t made any attempt to visit him in town.”

Matter-of-fact as always, Mary nodded vigorously. “He’d be right if that’s what he thinks. You’ve been in mourning for over a year now, Miss Kate. It’s time to get on with your own life. Get married yourself.” She opened an overstuffed suitcase, still unpacked, and grimaced. “Goodness, we probably shouldn’t have brought all this. Most of it is unsuitable to wear in town anyway. You’ll need to go shopping first thing.”

Kate sighed elaborately as Mary began to move purposefully about the room. “I’m not a complete simpleton, you know. I realize I’ll have to buy a few new things.”

It was a long-standing argument. She spent little time or money on her appearance, and most of the clothes she bought were serviceable rather than fashionable. Little Brookings society was provincial at the best of times, and she’d always seen little point in worrying about her looks when there were so few to notice.

But try and convince someone who’d spent nearly her whole life as a lady’s maid. Mary believed in the importance of keeping up appearances. “Your clothes are fine at home, Miss Kate, but you know as well as I that London requires greater sophistication than, well…” she paused for delicacy, “that thing you’re wearing now, for instance.”

Kate looked down at her dress and tried to hide her grin. Thing was an accurate description. Thing was actually rather generous. Truth was, she only wore it for Mary’s benefit.

“What’s wrong, Mary? Do you not care for brown?”

Mary harrumphed. “What I care for is getting you married, like you ought to be. Brown, if you can even call it that, certainly won’t help—” Her lecture was interrupted by Kate’s powder puff landing squarely in her face.

“Take that, sweet maid. I hereby declare thee the most beautiful in all the land.” She giggled at the comical mixture of surprise and grudging good humor on her maid’s powder-covered face and gave a mock swoon, falling backward onto her bed. “Oh, Mary, I fear my constitution is too delicate even to consider a husband.”

“Delicate, my foot,” Mary snorted while Kate blinked her eyes in feigned shock at her maid’s not-so-unusual breach of maid-to-mistress decorum. “I’m just thankful that something will finally motivate you to get out of your rut…and if it takes a kick in the…you know what…to get you to do something about it, well, that’s fine by me.”

“A kick in the…? Is that what you call it?”

Mary ignored her question and continued. “I know we’ve had this discussion before, but you should have been married ages ago.”

“Mary, I know. You know I know. I was planning to go to London even before I heard from Robert.”

“Yesss…only you have yet to seem happy about it.”

“Well, I am. Happy. About it.”

“I see.”

Mary continued to unpack and fold clothes, and Kate walked over to the window. The morning was gray, and it suitably reflected her mood. People in dark clothes moved their way slowly up the damp street. After a minute she heard Mary leave, closing the door quietly behind her.

Kate returned to her bed, enjoying for the moment the restored tranquility that always followed in Mary’s wake. They’d had this discussion many times before, and although Kate hated to admit it, Mary was right. As each year passed, it would only become harder for her to wed, and she was fast realizing that a husband was a necessity. Not that she didn’t cherish her independence, for she valued it more than anything. The fact was, however, that marrying was the only way for her to maintain that independence.

Oh, was she ever in a pickle. Her life would definitely be simpler if she’d been born a man.

It was all her grandfather’s fault. When, many years ago, he’d turned his gentlemanly interest in boats into a lucrative shipbuilding company, he never could have dreamed of the trouble this decision would cause his then-unborn granddaughter.

She lay back into the deep cushion of her down quilt and sighed, letting her mind wander back through her family history.

Her grandfather had called his business Alfred and Sons. He’d always chuckled about this name—there wasn’t a soul in their family named Alfred. He’d actually named the company after his late Pekinese, figuring that although he might have to sully his hands in trade, he didn’t have to sully the family name by advertising that fact.

Luckily, he proved an able businessman and reinvigorated the Sutcliffs’ old and ill-managed money. He’d even earned the title of first Baron Gordon for supplying the Crown with ships during the Seven Years’ War, thus elevating their family to the peerage for the first time. Indeed, a knack for business seemed to be a family trait, and with her grandfather’s death, Kate’s father not only inherited his title, but the company as well. In turn, he’d shared his knowledge with his two children…or at least, he’d tried. The fact was, though, only one of them really took to it: his skinny, freckled daughter. And that would have been perfectly fine if only she’d been a skinny, freckled son.

Kate’s father had indulged her anyway. He let her tag along to the boatyard to inspect the account books with him, and she’d paid attention, absorbing everything she could. As she grew older, she’d frequently been her father’s sole companion—by the age of ten, Robert had left for Eton, followed by Oxford. He’d learned Latin and ancient Greek and how to be a member of the ruling class…but never, alas, how to tie a decent knot.

But Kate was different. From a very young age, hardly a day had passed in which she didn’t visit her father’s boatyard. Over the years, this habit raised quite a few eyebrows around the village, and it was rumored that the new baron was terribly eccentric, if not completely mad, for allowing his daughter such free rein. Eventually, however, her cheerful smile, bony elbows and abundant freckles endeared her to even the oldest of the old salts. Although she had since grown into her elbows and lessened her freckles with Dr. Calloway’s Lemon Complexion Balm, her presence was still grudgingly accepted—and secretly enjoyed.

Of course, this acceptance hinged on the fact that very few people really knew the true extent of her involvement in the company. Kate’s father sensibly feared that even the most loyal employee would balk at the idea of taking orders from a young, pretty female. But the truth was that once he became too ill to head the company himself, Kate had stepped fully into his shoes. Out of necessity, Alfred and Sons’ longtime clerk, Andrew Hilton, was named the company’s director—after all, what self-respecting businessman would agree to deal with a mere slip of a twenty-odd-year-old girl? But Kate knew every detail of every meeting, and not a single decision was made without her approval.

She wasn’t quite sure how it had come about, really. Perhaps it was simply because her father knew that there was none other as qualified as she, and Robert had little desire to be called away from London to slave over company ledgers. The reason didn’t really matter. Kate knew she had placed herself into a role that women weren’t allowed to play, and that she would become a social pariah if it were ever discovered.

This arrangement had worked well enough throughout her father’s illness but became a little tricky after his death. His title and nearly all of the family property—the house in St. James’s, the house in Little Brookings, another in Surrey—had passed on to Robert. Kate was given a dowry of four thousand pounds a year.

And Alfred and Sons?

In the strangest turn of events, it passed from father to daughter.

When her father wrote his will, he intended for his family to carry on as they always had, with none the wiser. He left the company and all its holdings to Kate…with a clause: she would inherit the company fully only after she wed. It was a purely practical consideration—lacking a father, she’d need a husband to ensure her legitimacy. Until she married, Andrew Hilton would continue to serve as nominal director. It should have been very simple.

But shortly after her father died, Hilton made it clear that he wanted more than nominal control. Although he’d never shown any interest in Kate as anything but the daughter of his employer, he suddenly began waging a serious war for her hand.

At first, she’d shrugged off his advances as harmless, but lately they’d become impossible to ignore. Most recently, he’d begun resorting to coercion, threatening to expose her role in the company and thus destroy everything her father had worked for.

Kate couldn’t allow that to happen, but as an unmarried woman she had little legal recourse, nor could she seek protection from the courts—to tell anyone would betray her role in the company. She couldn’t confide in her brother, either. Normally, he was completely disinterested in Alfred and Sons, but if he knew she was in any sort of danger he’d force her to give up all involvement with the company. He might even make her sell it. As the head of the family, he could do that.

The only solution she could come up with was to get married, and that was what she was determined to do: quickly and conveniently, romance not required.

There was nothing unusual about Ben’s impromptu overnight stay. He’d known Robert since they’d been at school together, and when the season was in full swing and the drinks flowed a little too freely, he frequently availed himself of his friend’s hospitality. Since Ben had been at sea for the past six months, however, his presence now was unexpected.

The two men were seated in Robert’s breakfast room. Robert was tucking in eagerly to a large plate of eggs and rashers while Ben pushed his helping more aimlessly around his plate. Occasionally, Robert looked up from his food and smiled, but gave up almost immediately upon seeing his friend’s dark countenance.

“So…how’s business?” Robert asked after several minutes, obviously trying to fill the silence. “You’ve been away for a while. Everything in order?”

A dull ache had invaded Ben’s brain that morning and he’d have been just as happy if they didn’t talk at all. “Speak quietly,” he whispered, “business is fine.”

“I thought this shipping business of yours was only a lark, Ben. It sounds suspiciously like work. You look exhausted.”

Ben ignored that. Unlike most ship owners, he liked to oversee many of the day-to-day operations of his business and often accompanied his crew on their voyages. He’d discovered his love of the sea during his Grand Tour, and once he’d returned to England he’d found that life on solid ground no longer satisfied him. He’d become involved in shipping as a diversion, really, hoping to find some way to alleviate the deadening boredom of high society. Somehow, though, he’d become completely caught up in the business. He found that he thrived on hard work, liked having a reason to get up in the morning and loved the thrill of traveling somewhere new. He kept this part of his personality largely concealed from his jaded friends, however.

And anyway, the reason for his current exhaustion had nothing to do with work.

Robert was still watching him. “Had a rough night, eh?”

Ben just grunted. Robert hadn’t any idea how rough, and Ben felt certain that he wouldn’t actually like to know the details of how his best friend had nearly seduced his sister. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d done it himself. Granted, he’d been slightly foxed when he’d arrived, having stopped at his club for a drink en route. Perhaps his judgment had been a bit flawed….

No. Best just to pretend it hadn’t happened. “Tell me again when the wedding is to be?”

Robert smiled. “Fifteenth of September. Charlotte had the devil of a time getting her mother to agree to it—not to her marrying me, of course, but to doing it so quickly. Told me it was scandalous, the old bag. Horse Face must have ceremony. But I held firm. A man can only wait so long. Six months it shall be. But it is a squeeze, I know. Reckon there’s a lot to do…dresses and flowers and such nonsense. I’ve elected to leave that business to the women, not that they’d want my help anyway. Charlotte has already begun to send out invitations like mad…on top of that, I have a host of bloody decorators to contend with because Horse Face says my home is entirely unsuitable.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’m not looking forward to it, I tell you, but I suppose it’s the price one pays. House has been full of bloody women, even now. My sister’s here, you know.”

Ben’s expression must have betrayed something, because Robert narrowed his eyes slightly and asked, “Do you remember meeting her?”

Only too well, Ben thought to himself. His headache, which had begun to subdue, sharpened considerably. With undue heat he answered, “Not with much fondness, Robbie. She threw a glass of water at me, I remember that much quite clearly.”

“I think you insulted her, Ben,” Robert reminded him.

“I never insult women.”

“Perhaps you called her scrawny. She was only eleven, you know. Always been a bit of a tomboy, though.”

Ben snorted in distaste. “Age is no excuse. I’d rather hoped to continue avoiding her.”

Robert nodded in agreement. “Can’t say I’d mind if you avoided my sister either, old boy, but there’s unlikely to be much choice unless you plan on leaving the country again. She’ll be here for the entire season. It’s her first, you know.”

That piqued Ben’s curiosity. “Not married, then? What, doesn’t she believe in it either?”

“Keep your mind out of the gutter, Ben. She never had a proper coming out. Once our father became ill she remained home to tend to him. He died just last year, as you know, and she’s been in mourning since. Anyway, for some reason she’s become set on the idea of matrimony all of the sudden.”

Ben merely grunted. “It happens to all women.”

“You’re being rather touchy this morning.”

Ben supposed he was, and it was all the fault of his irrational behavior the night before. He’d known countless beautiful women in his life and had never lost control quite like that. Oh, not much had happened, but for God’s sake, she was his best friend’s sister. He should have gone straight to bed, yet he’d been so reluctant to bring their conversation to its hasty and logical end, with both of them heading off to their respective rooms for a good night’s sleep. It was too much fun watching her blush, and he had simply poured himself another drink and all but forced her to join him.

Thinking of that blasted drink, Ben had to smile to himself. Served the chit right for choking on it. It softened the blow—literally—for that damn book she’d thrown at him. Lucky thing she kissed better than she threw or his head would be throbbing more than it already was.

But that kiss…

After she’d fled the room, he’d had another drink, trying to tame his rampant emotions. He was angry, but mainly with himself. Couldn’t really blame her for trying to brain him. He’d treated her quite cavalierly after that kiss, but it was the only way he could think of to get her out of the room before his tenuous control slipped once more.

If it were any other female, he’d simply bed her—no better way to get a woman out of one’s mind. But she was Robert’s sister and seduction was not an option.

Robert was saying something about lunch and Ben realized he hadn’t been listening. Robert was looking at him, clearly waiting for an answer.

Ben wasn’t sure what the question had been, but took a stab at an answer anyway. “Oh, no. I have to return home. Mrs. Davis should be in today, cleaning or whatever it is she does to ready the house for the season. Have a few things to do myself. You on for White’s tonight?”

“Tonight’s the old engagement party, lad…as I’ve been telling you. ’Fraid I’m obliged to make an appearance. You should come, though—I know you weren’t planning on being in town, but now that you’re here…”

“I’ll think about it. Right now I need to rest up and set my head to rights. Not quite myself yet this morning.”

“Noted,” Robert said dryly, “but I’ll be expecting you tonight anyway—besides, I’d get great satisfaction out of unbalancing Horse Face’s guest list.”

Ben glanced at his pocket watch. It was nearly eleven. He’d better leave Robert’s soon lest Kate make an appearance.

He nodded distractedly. “I’ll try to make it, Rob. But now I really must go. I have business of my own to attend to.” He pushed his uneaten breakfast back and rose from his seat. “Enjoy your lunch…who’d you say you were dining with?”

Robert sighed. “Charlotte and Kate.”

“Kate?”

“My sister, dunce. Did you hear anything I was saying?”

“Like I said, I’m not myself this early. But self shall return before this evening. You have my promise.”

Chapter Three

W hen Charlotte Bannister opened the door to her bedroom that evening, she was preceded by an accusing face and followed by the strains of a waltz. Her engagement party was progressing beautifully downstairs; every room in her parents’ elegant mansion was filled with the soft light of a dozen crystal chandeliers and buzzed with the latest on dit. Everyone invited had showed, and everyone, almost, was behaving.

The exception, Katherine Sutcliff, sat guiltily and unsociably in the center of Charlotte’s bed. Such behavior could not be permitted.

Charlotte sat down on the yellow damask chaise longue with legs formed by black and gold caryatids at the foot of her bed. Kate tried not to meet her gaze and pretended to look around the room instead. The entire Orient converged there, owing to Charlotte’s mother’s exuberant taste for all things Egyptian, Chinese and Greek.

“You simply must come back downstairs,” Charlotte said after a moment of silence. Her pretty blue eyes brooked no argument.

“Well, you see, Char—”

“I do not.” She tossed her dark hair impatiently. “I thought you were excited about this party! What can the problem possibly be? Surely you’re not still worried about your gown? I will tell you again, you look lovely. You were the center of attention for the brief moment you deigned to remain downstairs. You must have noticed.”

Indeed, Kate thought, looking down at her dress and blushing. Because she had arrived only the day before she hadn’t had time to get fitted for anything new. Anticipating this problem, Charlotte had taken it upon herself to have something made up a few weeks ago without consulting Kate or even having met her first. The approximate measurements had come from Robert, who, in brotherly fashion, had badly underestimated her feminine attributes. In the tight bodice, her breasts had nowhere to go but up. She felt quite naked, and Robert’s rakish friends staring openly at her chest did not help matters. Her unease, however, was spurred by the thought of only one of those friends. Benjamin Sinclair had already seen her half-exposed in her dressing gown, and look what happened then. She didn’t know if he’d arrived at the party, or if he planned to attend at all, but not knowing was driving her mad.

“Bastard.”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”

“What?” Kate looked up in alarm. Oh, God. Had she spoken aloud?

“You muttered an inexcusable word under your breath just now—”

Kate cut Charlotte off lest she got any more offended. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that—certainly I wasn’t speaking about you. My mind isn’t really where it ought to be tonight…I suppose I’m just nervous.”

Charlotte smiled, satisfied by that response. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’ve nothing to worry about. As I say, you’ve proved very popular so far.”

“Charlotte—”

“Just come downstairs. I want to introduce you to my brother Philip. I promise he’ll behave like a gentleman.”

“I think I’ve met all of your brothers, thank you,” said Kate, thinking of the solid line of dull, unsmiling manhood she’d met on arrival. Charlotte had five brothers—obnoxious oafs, the lot of them. Philip was simply King Obnoxious Oaf.

“He’s not that bad. You’ll grow to like him, I swear.”

Kate wanted to snort at Charlotte’s dogged self-assurance, but refrained. Considering how long they’d been acquainted, it was pretty presumptuous for Charlotte to assume anything about her feelings. But Kate could be just as strong-willed as her managerial future sister-in-law.

“Charlotte, you must promise me this—you will not play cupid tonight. Just because you’re getting married does not mean that love is in the air.”

“But you want to get married. Robert told me.”

Kate nodded firmly. “I intend to.”

“Um…do you have a particular gentleman in mind yet?”

“I’ve only been here a day, Charlotte.”

“I know. It’s just that you seem so…certain…about what you want.”

Kate wasn’t at all certain about what she wanted. Want didn’t figure into the equation. “Well, it’s about time, isn’t it?”

“Your confidence is quite dizzying. I almost pity the male populace.”

Kate sighed, feeling increasingly deflated. “It’s not confidence, Charlotte, it’s determination.”

Charlotte smiled gently. “Mind if I offer my opinion?”

“I’ve learned to expect it in the short time I’ve known you.”

“Well, Kate, it seems a rather haphazard method for getting married.”

“My method is quite scientific, thank you very much.”

“Since when is love scientific?”

Kate met her gaze. She knew Charlotte was right and only wished she could explain her true motivation. But if she told her, she’d tell Robert, and then…well, that’d be it.

“I’m not sure that I will fall in love, at least not right away. How did you know when you fell in love with my brother? Could you just tell?”

Charlotte blushed. “Well, it was just a feeling I had…maybe you haven’t noticed, being his sister and all, but he’s quite handsome—”

Kate snorted.

“—He was also rather bold, I suppose, in letting me know that he was…interested in me as well.”

“Interested?”

Charlotte was blushing to her roots now. “You know…desired me.”

“I know what you mean, Charlotte! You needn’t spell it out! But what did it feel like?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’re friends now, and soon enough you’ll be my sister. What does it feel like when two people desire each other very much?”

“You’re awfully interested for someone who doesn’t even have a chap in mind yet.”

“Humor me.” Kate didn’t know why the answer had become so important. Presumably, one just knew when life-altering emotions like love and desire struck. Unlike most girls, however, she didn’t have a mother to elucidate the finer details of courtship, and she really wasn’t sure that she would just know.

Charlotte continued. “Well, whenever he looks at me I feel rather warm. I blush a lot when I’m with him—rather like I’m blushing now, only it’s much more pleasant…will that do, Kate? It’s rather private.”

“Uh-huh…” Kate wasn’t certain if that delicate explanation helped at all, but could no longer bear to watch Charlotte squirm. She also wasn’t sure she liked the answer. Only one man in her experience had ever made her feel like that and he was absolutely out of the question. She had a goal to reach, and, judging from his reputation, Benjamin Sinclair certainly would not help her along that path.

One more reason to dislike the scoundrel.

An hour had passed since Charlotte had led her unwillingly down the grand staircase. As the clock struck eleven, Kate finally let her guard drop. Perhaps he wasn’t coming after all. Perhaps he, too, was embarrassed.

Not bloody likely.

Kate was standing to the side of the ballroom, watching the other guests sway to the music. She was enjoying a much-needed respite from dancing—her gown allowed for only the shallowest of breaths and she was feeling a bit faint as a result. She’d danced with several eligible young men already and had even taken Charlotte’s advice and given Philip Bannister another chance. She’d forced herself to be less critical this time and found that, although he was still a bit dry, he wasn’t really that bad either. Philip was a year older than her at twenty-five and was actually rather handsome with his dark brown hair and eyes. She hadn’t minded dancing with him twice—even though, as she sadly noted, he fell just shy of her own slender height. No one could be perfect, she supposed. Kate mentally promoted him from the rank of King Obnoxious Oaf to the rank of somewhat dull, but generally good-natured, bore. In other words, he became a potential candidate.

No, everything seemed to be going to plan. A few more weeks of this, and hopefully she’d be well on the way to matrimony.

She scanned the sea of people, looking for a recognizable face. None registered, and she was about to go search out Charlotte when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“There you are, goose. I’ve been trying to find you alone for ages.”

She turned around, smiling broadly at Charlotte as she did so. Her smile froze, however, when she saw who accompanied her.

“I’m sure you’ve met Lord Benjamin Sinclair, Kate—your brother’s oldest friend?”

At her blank expression, Charlotte continued. “Well, this is Lord Benjamin Sinclair. Lord Sinclair, this is Miss Katherine Sutcliff.”

“A pleasure, Miss Sutcliff,” he said blandly for Charlotte’s benefit.

“How do you do,” she replied, curtsying as she did so and looking down to avoid his gaze. The feeling had returned in a flash…the nervous stomach, the heat…damn him again. She sucked in her breath as he lightly kissed her gloved hand.

“Well…” Charlotte went on, not at all blind to the sudden tension that surrounded her, “I think I see Lady Cheshire at the lemonade table, and I could use a glass myself, so…”

And with that, she smiled and flounced away. Kate couldn’t help but catch the now familiar self-satisfied sparkle in her eyes. If only Charlotte knew that her matchmaking skills were wasted on this particular pair.

Kate could feel the heat from Ben’s gaze returning to her face. He’s waiting for me to look at him, she thought, aware that she’d have to give in to his gaze eventually. But too many other thoughts were still running through her head—had he been there all night? Had he just arrived? She couldn’t very well ask. To do so would be to admit that she’d been watching for him.

She knew she had to look. She couldn’t just stand there like a ninny, staring at the floor.

Resolved, Kate met his gaze, and immediately wished she hadn’t. It was there again—the piercing, golden heat of his eyes as they wandered over her hair, her face and down…oh, God, that damned dress. Ben made no pretense of discretion, and she went red once again as he stared unabashedly at her breasts.

“I wondered if I would see you here tonight, but I certainly didn’t expect to see so much of you,” he said with a devilish grin.

Kate, of course, said nothing. What could she say to that? She settled for fixing him with a seething glare.

A waltz struck up and Ben moved a step closer.

“Do you have permission to waltz?” he asked as he placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her onto the dance floor.

“No,” she lied baldly.

“Liar.”

Before she knew what was happening, before she had a chance to refuse further, he was escorting her onto the ballroom floor, so thick with dancing couples that there was no room for escape.

She didn’t know what to do but dance. To balk now would only make people stare—even more than they already were. Kate was keenly aware of the fact that people had begun to watch them from the very moment that Charlotte had left them alone together. She could feel every eye turned their way and knew that the gossip had started. She didn’t know what they were saying, but she could count on the fact that it wasn’t complimentary. Ben was simply too scandalous, and the way he was looking at her…

“Are you always this clumsy on the dance floor?” he asked as Kate, distracted, stepped squarely on his toe. “These are new shoes.”

“If you’d given me the chance, I would have told you I didn’t want to dance with you. And is it necessary to stand so close?” she retorted, annoyed into speech.

“Don’t fuss, love,” he said, holding her even tighter. “You’ll only cause a scene.”

Kate bit her tongue, at least for the time being. He clearly didn’t care if she caused a scene or not. From what she could gather from the gossips and from what her brother casually let slip, he was used to scandal. Arguing with him would only lead to embarrassment, and protesting his proximity would just bring him closer.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, more amused at her discomfort than interested in her answer.

“I was,” she answered curtly.

At this, Ben laughed outright, although he obligingly stifled his laughter as heads turned in their direction and Kate reddened.

He changed his approach. “You know, I was hoping to have a few words with you this evening. To make peace, in fact.”

She raised a slender brow, and he continued. “You see, I suspect that you’re angry with me—”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“—and I’m not used to making women angry. So an apology is in order.”

Kate blinked in surprise. This was the last thing she had expected. In fact, she had assumed that he would be angry with her, not the other way around.

“You’re sorry, then?” she asked tentatively.

“Somewhat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘somewhat’?”

“Well,” he answered, spinning her around, “I suppose I shouldn’t have forced you to have a drink with me last night, but I’m not sorry. And I shouldn’t have teased you so much, but I’m not sorry. And,” he said, his amber eyes wandering over her face, “I shouldn’t have kissed you, but I’m definitely not sorry.”

“Oh?” She didn’t know how she managed that. Her breath tripped in her throat, and she felt like she was melting beneath his gaze.

“But I am sorry that I told you to leave. That, sweetheart, was a real pity.”

With this, he let her go, bowed, turned and walked away.

For a moment Kate just stood there, trying to recover her composure. She’d been so focused on Ben during the waltz that she’d lost track of what was happening around her. Slowly, she realized that the music had ended, that they were no longer dancing, that they had stopped dancing some time ago. Oh, God. How long had the waltz been over? How long had she been standing there?

She turned around, trying to gather her bearings and look as if she weren’t completely flustered. Sometime in the course of their dance, he had maneuvered her back to Charlotte, who was standing along the wall with a small group of friends. They were all staring, although they tactfully averted their eyes once Kate became aware that she was the center of so much attention.

Chapter Four

“C ould you pay attention, please, Ben?”

Ben glanced up at his friend Frederick Northing, who was seated across from him at the table. The two men, as well as several other refugees, were seated in something Charlotte’s mother, the Countess of Tyndale, called the “Cerulean Room.” For the evening’s entertainment it had been given over to whist and brandy, much to her disgust.

Ben had hoped that the change of scenery would get his mind off Kate, but so far it wasn’t helping. He’d seated himself with his back to the door so that he wouldn’t have to see her as she twirled by in the arms of one suitor after another. His attempts were futile, however; he hadn’t taken into consideration the large, gilt-framed mirror that hung on the wall opposite him. It reflected everything that happened in the ballroom behind him, and each time Kate danced by—so striking, so tall, and her dress so delightfully revealing—his eyes were drawn to her.

It was that dress that had brought him out of the gaming room in the first place. He’d actually been at the party for hours, had simply decided that his best tactic would be to make a brief appearance to pacify Robert and then hide out in the gaming room until he could politely duck out.

Only it hadn’t happened that way. From the first moment that he’d noticed Kate, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Even worse, he couldn’t keep his mind off her. That was the most unusual part—he was accustomed to being attracted to a pretty face, but not to having that pretty face invade his thoughts. He definitely hadn’t meant to seek her out….

But he had, and quite underhandedly at that. He’d known that he couldn’t approach her outright, so he’d shamelessly besieged Charlotte and asked her in no uncertain terms to introduce him. He hadn’t bothered to mention that he’d introduced himself just the night before.

“I know what you’re looking at. Or should I say who?”

“You should mind your own business, Fred.”

“Ah. But my friends are my business,” Frederick replied with a smile. “You know, he’ll kill you when he finds out.”

“Who will kill me when he finds out what?”

“Sutcliff will, when he hears the latest on dit about how you have eyes on his sister.”

“Are you blind, Fred? Every man here has his eyes on her.”

“No, I’m not blind. I saw the way you were looking at her.”

“And how was that?”

“Like she’s dinner.”

Ben burst out laughing and Fred grinned.

“Well, she is rather delectable.”

“Ben, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Half the town will have your names linked by tomorrow.”

“Fred, if you don’t recall, half the town has talked about me plenty of times before.”

“Yes,” he said patiently, “and no one cares if they continue to do so. But Sutcliff is sure to care if his sister’s name starts getting bandied around at the club. I figured you’d be wise enough to stay clear of things like this. You’ve been friends for years and I’d hate to see anything come between you.”

Ben sighed and rose, stretching his arms and giving the impression of nonchalance. “Nothing will come between us. I don’t have designs on his sister. She’s just attractive, is all…habitual behavior is hard to change. Anyway, I’m about to leave, so never fear. I’ve reached my limit for dancing. Care to join me at White’s?”

“Tempting, old chap, but I haven’t suffered through this evening for naught. I’ve already made plans.”

“Oh? And who is the lucky lady?” Ben asked as he made his way to the door.

“Oh, no. You see, I—unlike you—am discreet.”

Ben snorted as he left the room. Fred had never valued public opinion highly enough to worry about discretion.

As he walked down the long hallway, he nodded to passing acquaintances. When he reached the antechamber, he retrieved his coat and shrugged it on as he stepped out into the cold spring air to find his carriage. To anyone watching, Ben appeared calm and collected.

But inside, he was completely on edge. His second meeting with Kate had left him feeling just as tense as the first had.

Damn. This would have to stop.

The situation was ridiculous, really, he thought as he climbed into his carriage and signaled for his driver to depart. Fred was right. He’d had more than enough experience with women to let any one woman turn him into a halfwit. Katherine Sutcliff was innocent and looking for a husband. He would be wise to stay away from her and she from him.

He sat back on the smooth leather seats, unsuccessfully trying to force himself to relax. The last thing he needed was to go to his club, where he’d only be surrounded by ornery old sots trying to drink and gamble themselves into oblivion. He still wouldn’t be able to remove her from his mind.

What he needed was a substitution.

As his carriage turned out of the Bannisters’ long drive, Ben called to his coachman. The carriage slowed to a stop.

“Yes, my lord?”

“I’ve changed my mind, Winters. Take me to Madame Dupont’s instead of White’s.”

“Very good, my lord.”

A quarter of an hour later, the carriage pulled up in front of a nondescript brownstone in a decent—but not too decent—part of town. Madame Dupont’s was a place rather than a person. Surely once, Ben mused as he stepped from his carriage and walked to the door, she had been a real person. But the establishment had been around for so long that the original proprietress was certainly deceased, whatever her name had been.

Currently, the proprietress was a short, round woman from Liverpool. Because she was English, everyone referred to her as Mrs. rather than Madame, although Ben doubted she’d ever experienced the respectability of marriage.

He yanked the bellpull.

The door opened, for a moment spilling yellow light and gay, female laughter onto the dark street. Ben entered, and the heavy door closed behind him. The street returned to darkness once again, and Winters tucked a blanket around his legs and settled in for a lengthy wait.

Kate was standing in the Bannisters’ antechamber, waiting for her carriage to pull up. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, not actually that late by society standards. She’d decided to go home early, although the party would last for another few hours. In fact, she’d been waiting to leave for quite a while because she had refused to depart until he had. To leave first would be to admit defeat. So she’d camped out in the ladies’ retiring room, avoiding the gossips and occasionally peeking out to see if the coast was clear.

As her carriage began to make its way through the crowded drive, she pulled her fur-lined pelisse tightly around her shoulders. Too impatient to wait for her carriage to reach the front steps, Kate stepped into the night and began to weave her way through the traffic. The moon was a mere sliver, and the only light was the brash, artificial glow of the coachmen’s oil lanterns. The driveway was cast in gloomy shadow, making her shiver as she maneuvered herself through the throng.

When she reached her carriage, the door was already open. Kate waited a moment for her driver to assist her entry, but by the time he finally made a move to alight, she was already halfway inside the cab. She waved him off, knowing she’d be faster on her own.

How strange. Owens was usually not so lax at his post.

She settled back into the deep seats as the carriage lurched into motion, reviewing the evening’s events in her mind.

Kate couldn’t believe her stupidity. She so wanted to make this whole process quick and easy but was afraid that particular goal might have been dashed that night, all in the span of a single dance.

She supposed that she was being a bit histrionic. It wasn’t as if Ben had whisked her from the ballroom and kissed her behind the curtains. Surely a waltz and a few heated glances wouldn’t ruin her completely.

Yet she’d already heard the gossip, little snippets here and there.

“The only girl he danced with all night…”

“He doesn’t usually flock to young innocents, now does he?”

“Oh, but my dear, she’s not that young…”

“Twenty-four, I hear. She’s been on the shelf for ages….”

“Ha! I heard she’s nearly thirty…innocent my foot, that’s what I say!”

Much as Kate tried to be optimistic, she was a realist at heart. Gossip like that could be very damaging, and she knew that her search for a husband had just become much more difficult.

She looked out the window, trying to gauge by her surroundings how much longer the ride would last. She was surprised to realize that she was traveling through a completely unfamiliar neighborhood.

“Owens? Have we taken a detour for some reason?”

There was no answer other than the carriage picking up speed.

“Owens? Owens? Stop this instant. Where are we going?” In desperation, Kate began pounding on the window at her side, hoping to attract the attention of any passersby. But it was too late and the night too cold and cloudy. There was no one on the street to hear her. Even screaming would do no good….

She screamed anyway. Loudly. And then she screamed once more for good measure.

The driver—who, she was now certain, was not Owens—increased his pace.

Kate began to panic. She wasn’t used to that emotion but didn’t have a clue what else she could do. There wasn’t a soul to help her, no one to notice anything amiss about the carriage. There wasn’t even anyone at Rob’s town house to notice that she was missing—Rob would be at the party for several more hours and none of the servants would be expecting her home this early. Most likely, no one would notice that she hadn’t arrived safely until morning. By that time, no end of horrible things could happen….

Kate tried to change the direction of her thoughts. If she started thinking about what might happen to her, she knew that panic would take over. She had to remain calm and focus on how she could escape.

Taking a deep breath, she squinted out the window, looking for any landmark that might tell her where the coach was headed. They were moving quickly—not conspicuously so, but as fast as possible without drawing attention. She barely had time to focus on anything long enough for it to become familiar, and since she didn’t know London very well anyway, everything she passed managed to look much the same.

The coach slowed slightly, and Kate realized that they were turning a corner. She sat up straighter, peering out the window even harder. Through the steamy glass she could make out the solid form of a row of town houses, all with shadowy doorways and black, empty windows. Surely the area was inhabited, but at this hour no one stirred.

Then she saw it—just the soft glimmer of candlelight shining from the windows of one of the narrow buildings ahead, but a sign of hope nonetheless. As the coach neared the building she could make out the form of a man climbing the steps to knock on the front door. She saw the door open, spilling light out onto the street.

Help.

It was either one of the bravest or one of the most foolhardy things that Kate had ever done. Shoving aside the possibly dangerous consequences—the man on the street might just as soon hurt her as help her—she let out a scream shrill enough to curdle the blood of a saint. Every resource she possessed went into attracting the attention of the people in the building. She leaned back across her seat, and with both legs kicked at the window. Her slippers were designed for dancing and did no damage to the glass, but they did make a solid thud.

As the carriage came abreast with the building, she rose from her seat and screamed one final time, a scream so deep that the very power of it abraded her throat.

The door of the town house opened and a woman looked out apprehensively. A man came running out behind her.

That was the last thing Kate saw before the carriage stopped abruptly, throwing her into a heap on the floor. She quickly resumed her seat, wanting to be prepared for whatever might happen next. She heard the driver quickly alight, heard heavy footsteps approach the carriage door. It opened.

Kate closed her eyes, seeking the fortitude to protect herself. She raised her reticule over her head, and with all of her might swung it down, connecting solidly with…she wasn’t sure what.

She opened her eyes. Standing in the doorway, framed by the light that filtered from the town house, stood Benjamin Sinclair, looking utterly bewildered. Without taking his eyes from her he reached up and rubbed his head.

What bloody luck.

Chapter Five

A n hour and a half later, Kate was sipping hot tea in front of a fire, a heavy wool blanket tucked around her legs. Ben had brought her inside the town house and left her in the care of a slim, mousy-looking girl named Margaret. She was in a plush, although rather ostentatious, room outfitted with overstuffed armchairs and red damask wallcovering. There were several large windows, but all were covered in thick, velvet drapery.

She hadn’t seen Ben since he’d brought her inside and was anxiously awaiting his return so she could find out where she was and what was going to happen. Kate had tried to get some answers out of Margaret, but the frail girl was not very forthcoming.

“Margaret, I am aware that I asked you this question before, but are you certain you haven’t any idea where Lord Sinclair has gone?”

“Sorry, m’lady. I know no more than you do. He just told me to make sure you stayed in this room and didn’t cause a scene.”

“Oh, he did, did he? Well, could you at least tell me where I am? So maybe I can take a guess as to where he has gone and when he might get back?”

“I’m afraid I can’t—”

“You can, or I will cause a scene!”

“Thank you, Margaret. You can get back to work now,” Ben said as he quietly entered the room. He held out a coin to Margaret, which she gladly accepted before picking up her skirts and racing from the room. As she did so, Kate noticed that the nondescript girl wore the most shocking pink stockings.

Ben gently closed the door behind Margaret, smiling as he caught the direction of Kate’s scandalized gaze. “So, we meet again. You know, I was thinking as I left the party that my evening wouldn’t be complete if Miss Sutcliff didn’t hurl some object at my head at least once. You have made my night.”

“I didn’t know who you were. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

Kate just smiled faintly. “Where are we? This isn’t your house, is it?”

Ben burst out laughing for the second time that evening at something that Kate hadn’t intended to be humorous. She waited patiently for him to stop. When he didn’t, she became annoyed and began to glare.

“I’m glad I amuse you so much, Lord Sinclair, but would you mind answering my question? I’ve had a rotten night.” She was trying to be as condescending as possible, but Ben seemed to be oblivious to her sarcasm.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this. But I must assure you that my house is decorated a little bit more tastefully.”

“Yes, well this place looks like a harem. All this red!” As Kate said these words, she realized her mistake. She could see that Ben was all but biting his tongue trying not to laugh. She quickly began to explain. “Not that I know what a harem looks like, or anything. It’s just that I’ve heard…” she trailed off as Ben raised his hand.

“Please, don’t try to explain. I’m certain you have reliable sources. And I’ll tell you where we are, but I think we should figure out exactly what happened first, while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

Kate nodded in assent. “How did you see my carriage?”

“Well, it wasn’t so hard to see, really. Or rather to hear—you were making quite a racket in there. I had just entered the building when you went by. Mrs. Wilson…um, she owns this house…opened the door to see what was going on outside, and I recognized Robert’s carriage. So I ran out to try to stop it.”

“How did you stop it?”

Ben actually looked sheepish. “I wish I could tell you I did something heroic like throw myself in front of the horses, but I didn’t actually have to do anything at all. The second the driver saw me coming, he pulled the carriage to a stop and jumped off—fear of recognition, I guess. Anyway, he ran off into the night before I could even catch a glimpse of him.”

“And then you opened the door and I clobbered you?”

“Yes…and where does a young lady like you learn to clobber so effectively?”

Kate smiled cryptically. “Around.”

“Around. Hmm. So d’you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, can you tell me what happened when you left the party? Did you leave by yourself?”

“Yes…there’s not much to it. I just left. There were a lot of carriages in the drive—it was dark. The only thing amiss was that when I reached the carriage Owens was very slow to help me in…I called to him not to bother and got in on my own. I never actually saw Owens.”

“He wasn’t there.”

“No. He wasn’t there. Oh, I do hope nothing awful has happened to him.”

“My driver has gone back to the Bannisters’ to look for him. There’s a very good chance he’s there still.” They fell silent for a moment before Ben asked, “I assume you told your brother that you were leaving?”

“Well, no, not exactly. I told Charlotte to tell him…she said her coachman would take him home when the party ended so I could leave early. I hadn’t seen Robert in a while—couldn’t locate him, really.” That was a lie. Kate had been patently avoiding her brother, too afraid that he would have heard of her embarrassment and would want to grill her on the particulars.

“Hmm.” Ben mulled over her words for a moment, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his long legs.

Despite her nervousness, Kate couldn’t help but notice how sinfully handsome he was, how perfectly formed. He wasn’t paying attention for the moment and she let her gaze travel up his body, admiring the perfect fit of his evening attire and imagining what was beneath it….

She’d made it up to his chest when she felt the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. She quickly met Ben’s eyes and blushed when she realized that he was the watcher.

He smiled but continued, not yet ready to drop the subject. “Did the driver say nothing to you out of the ordinary?”

“He said nothing at all, but the incident was so strange itself…would you tell me, please, what you were doing while I waited here?”

Ben smiled. “Of course. I went for a walk in the surrounding area to see if I saw anyone who looked suspicious…can’t say I got a very good look at our man before he dashed off, though.”

“You didn’t find him.”

“I hardly expected to. These things happen all the time and the culprits rarely get apprehended. I notified the authorities while I was out, however, and they’re also looking for Owens. I’m certain he’ll turn up soon.”

Kate hoped so. It would be entirely her fault if Owens were injured. She was quiet for a moment, thinking of the potential consequences of her unwillingness to tell her brother her concerns about Andrew Hilton. “Do you reckon he was a highwayman? Perhaps he was just waiting to get me out of town so he could rob me in peace.”

“I suppose it’s possible, although he was taking you in the wrong direction to do that. It also seems like an awfully big risk to take for a simple robbery, abducting you right in front of the Bannisters’. Any number of people could have witnessed it.”

Kate nodded, unable to speak as her worst fear began to crystallize in her mind. Perhaps it wasn’t just a robbery…

She rose to pour herself a drink from the side table, anxious to occupy her shaking hands.

“So, it makes me wonder, Miss Sutcliff.”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any enemies?”

Kate never felt herself hit the floor. All she knew was that she suddenly found herself lying on the sofa, her head propped up on a pile of soft pillows. She felt something warm by her side and lifted her head to look, only to find Ben, seated next to her, watching her revive.

“How are you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?”

Kate was feeling like she was no longer safe in London, and she was realizing for the first time that Andrew Hilton might be a real threat rather than just an annoyance. Although he could be unpleasant, she’d always considered him to be a bit of a coward. She never would have expected he’d try to hurt her. But what if he did?

“Kate? How do you feel?”

“Pretty dreadful. What happened?”

“You fainted.”

“Rubbish.”

Ben smiled, giving the impression of infinite patience, although he was feeling anything but. Every muscle in his body was tense, and had been since the moment he’d pulled her from the carriage.

“Of course you didn’t faint. How silly of me. I’m sorry if I frightened you…I was only jesting about the enemy bit. I was actually trying to lighten the mood. I’m sure it was just a highwayman—probably not a very clever one, but…”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”

He could sense that she didn’t want to revisit the subject, so he changed it. “Are you ready to go home now?”

“I think so.” She sat up a bit too quickly, and a wave of dizziness washed over her again.

“Easy now. Take your time.” He put a steadying arm around her shoulders as he said these words, and she found that it actually helped. She took a deep, calming breath and carefully placed her feet on the floor.

“I think I can make it on my own from here. Thank you.” She glanced up at his face to reassure him that she was fine, and for the second time that evening wished she hadn’t. His eyes had darkened once again, becoming that deep, smoldering brown that ignited every one of her senses and left a trail of heat as they roamed over her body.

Kate knew that she’d already lost. As Ben leaned down to kiss her, she raised her hands to his chest, intending to push him away. But the second her hands reached him, all thoughts of protest vanished. She was powerless to say yes or no, and instead of pushing him away, she found herself pulling him closer, relishing the feel of his hardness, his heat. Her eyes closed, and as his lips settled over hers, she felt drunk with sensation.

This second kiss differed from the first, which had been so fleeting, so abrupt. This kiss was softer, slower—painfully slow, and yet so pleasurable. Kate gasped for breath as Ben gently tugged at her lower lip with his teeth, urging her without words to open her mouth. She was more than happy to oblige, eager, in fact, to taste him more fully. When his tongue entered her mouth, she met it with her own, her inexperience overcome by passion and instinct. When Ben’s hands moved down her body, stopping at the firm, round peaks of her breasts, she didn’t even notice. He laid her down on the sofa, sliding between her legs and grabbing her buttocks to press her against his hardness. Kate didn’t think to object, and wouldn’t have had the will to do so anyway. All she knew was the burning need she felt, deep down inside, a sweet throbbing that she couldn’t begin to comprehend. She moaned.

That moan was Ben’s undoing. He dragged himself off her, cursing as he looked down into her desire-clouded eyes and swollen lips. Damn. Where the bloody hell was his control? Here he was, seconds from making love to his best friend’s sister on a sofa in a gaming house, for God’s sake. After the girl had nearly been abducted, no less. Ben knew he was no saint, but it wasn’t like him to take such advantage of an innocent. She had been distraught, and he had enough experience to tamp down his desire, no matter how powerful it was.

“Kate. We have to stop. I have to take you home.” He didn’t add that stopping was one of the hardest things that he’d ever had to do. He just waited, watching her violet eyes slowly focus and reason reenter her body.

Kate only nodded, too embarrassed to speak. She sat up slowly, putting enough space between them so she could think. She knew that if Ben hadn’t pulled away, she wouldn’t have been the one to stop. When he held her in his arms, her common sense vanished, and her actions were ruled by pure sensation. What must he think of her, to have lost such control? She could only guess: a provincial miss, swooning every time he looked in her direction.

“Kate?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, you know. That wasn’t very well done of me. I usually demonstrate a bit more restraint.” His eyes smiled as he said this, but for once his smile was not at her expense. He seemed truly apologetic, and his admission helped put her at ease. So he lost control, too, eh?

“I am usually more restrained myself,” she replied with mock solemnity.

“Usually? My, my, I had no idea you found yourself in this position so often,” he retorted, enjoying the color that returned to her cheeks. “Come. It’s time to go. My driver should be back by now.”

Ben helped Kate rise from the sofa, and waited in silence as she donned her pelisse. He pulled his watch from his pocket and swore silently. It was nearly five o’clock in the morning, and Rob’s servants were bound to be stirring by the time they reached the town house.

“You know, Lord Sinclair, you never answered my question.”

“I think it’s all right if you call me by my Christian name, Kate.”

She blushed, feeling foolish once more. “Benjamin.”

“Ben will do. Now what was your question?”

“Where are we?”

“Where are we?” he repeated, looking her over distractedly. “Here—draw your hood a bit tighter.”

“Why? And why won’t you answer my question?”

“I’ll answer both questions, m’dear. First, we’re in a gaming house, and second, I reckon you’d rather not be recognized on our way out.” He didn’t add that the upper floors of the house occasionally served as a brothel as well.

“We’re in a…a house of ill repute?” Kate was completely shocked and, she had to admit, more than a little bit delighted. This was an evening of firsts. She began scanning the room avidly, trying to absorb as many details as possible.

“You needn’t look so pleased about it,” Ben said wryly, glancing over his shoulder as he opened the door and perused the hallway for passersby.

“There can’t be anyone here who’d recognize me,” she protested.

“You’d be surprised. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the hall.

Either the night was too late or the morning was too early—Kate wasn’t quite sure how to make the distinction—but there didn’t seem to be a soul about. Her mischievous side began to surface.

“My, that’s quite a painting,” she said, pausing to point at a large-scale portrait of a reclining nude. “The artist has captured her…red hair…most effectively.”

“Time is of the essence, Kate.”

“Of course.” She kept walking, but wasn’t about to let her one and only visit to such a place end so quickly. Curiosity also got the best of her.

“Um…so what were you doing in a house of ill repute?”

“Certainly not what I came here to do.”

“Oh.” She didn’t ask for clarification. She could only imagine what sorts of nefarious activities her presence had interrupted, and wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it.

Ben smiled to himself, hoping to have shut her up with that remark. Fine time for her to start getting chatty. If they wasted any more time leaving, it would be daylight before they reached Rob’s.

After descending a wide staircase, they approached the door. A butler opened it, and Kate paused to give him a thorough once-over, noting that he looked more like a pugilist than a butler. Ben prompted her with a yank, and they were out in the cold once more, the dark sky just beginning to give way to the first pink traces of dawn. Thankfully, his carriage was waiting. His coachman alighted and opened the door, but before Kate could thank him, Ben unceremoniously hoisted her off the ground and tossed her into the carriage.

“Take us to Lord Gordon’s, Winters, and hurry, please.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ben climbed into the carriage and settled into his seat. Winters shut the door, enveloping his passengers in total darkness. Not dark enough, unfortunately, for Ben to miss the sullen glare Kate turned on him. He chose to ignore it, however, and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep in the twenty minutes it would take to reach Robert’s house.

Kate watched him, too wide-awake herself even to think about sleep. She was annoyed with his treatment of her, but was not above admitting that perhaps she deserved it. There was a time for cheekiness, and now, apparently, was not it.

Nevertheless, she huffed loudly, hoping that he would open at least one eye. But as that elicited no response, she decided to change tactics.

“Ben?” she asked softly.

He cracked open an eye, pleased at the way his name sounded when she said it. He hadn’t really been sleeping; like Kate, he was far too tense to contemplate rest seriously. But he knew that his composure would bother her, assumed though it may have been. And for some reason, he felt like bothering her.

“Ben, what happened to my carriage?”

“While he was waiting for us, Winters brought it round to Robert’s. It should be tucked neatly into his carriage house by now…there’s a slim chance that it will have arrived before your brother returned home, and in that case nothing will have appeared amiss.”

Kate nodded uncertainly. “I told my maid not to wait up for me, and none of the other servants were to wait up either…I suppose there is a chance that no one will have missed me.”

Ben hoped to God that this was the case. He had visions of Robert running his hands through his hair, pacing, and polishing his pistols as he frantically waited for his sister to return. He could only imagine what Robert would think when she finally showed up with him.

The carriage rattled along for another ten minutes, then slowed to a stop in front of the town house. Kate peered out of the window, noting that there seemed to be an unusual number of lights burning in the windows. Her hopes began to sink.

“Will you tell him?” she asked, turning around and pleading with her eyes.

“He’ll certainly need to be apprised.”

“I understand. But will you tell him everything?”

Ben shook his head, finally understanding the true nature of her question. “I’m sure he’d rather not know everything, nor do I care to inform him. We’ll tell him only what we must, all right?”

She nodded, wondering how she’d get out of this fix. Truth be told, she’d be happier if Robert didn’t know anything about the evening at all. He’d only start asking the same questions that Ben had, wondering why anyone would go to such lengths for a simple robbery. But at the same time, she wanted to stay safe…oh, there was no easy answer.

Winters opened the carriage door, and Kate steeled herself for a very long walk to her brother’s front door.

Kate had resigned herself to meeting her brother at the front door. She was not prepared, however, to have the door opened by Robert, his friend Frederick Northing and Charlotte. Just beyond them, sprawled out in a chair, was Charlotte’s father, the Earl of Tyndale. Charlotte’s chaperone, Kate supposed. Apparently her brother felt he might need reinforcements.

“Where the hell have you been?” Robert barked.

Kate had never heard her jovial brother speak in such a tone—not even when, at the tender age of eight, she’d glued the soles of his riding boots to his bedroom floor. She felt immediately guilty. It wasn’t her fault that she’d nearly been abducted, but she had taken her sweet time getting back home. She opened her mouth to reassure him of her safety, but it was at this moment that he spotted Ben standing beside her.

“You bloody bastard!”

Before Kate knew what was happening, Robert leaped out the door to tackle Ben, and the two of them ended up rolling round in the front lawn, fists flying.

“Robert! Robbie! Stop—you don’t understand!” Her pleas had no effect as Robert took another swing at Ben, who retaliated by planting his fist in her brother’s stomach.

She turned to Frederick to plead, “Can you make them stop?”

“Why would I want to do that? Seems justified if you ask me.”

“Charlotte?” Kate’s face was desperate as she turned to her brother’s fiancée, not fathoming how the petite girl could possibly stop the two large men from maiming each other. “Charlotte, please make them stop, if you can. Ben did nothing wrong—he saved my life.”

Charlotte considered this for a moment, and then nodded and turned to Robert. Without raising her voice, she said, “Robert…Robert…you have to stop. Kate needs you to listen.”

He looked up at her, giving Ben enough time to shove him off and pin him down to the ground.

“Oh, no! Don’t you start being unreasonable, Benjamin Sinclair! Get off him!” Charlotte was truly angry now and added emphasis to her words by grabbing the nearest object, a book, and hurling it at Ben’s head with all her might. Luckily for his already tender head, she missed, but the noise of the book hitting the ground was deafening.

Kate was the first to break the stunned silence. “Well, Charlotte, I didn’t suppose that you really would be able to stop them. Appears I underestimated you.”

Charlotte smoothed her gown and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, serenity, dignity and composure restored. “Yes, you did. Now first things first—are you all right, Kate? Tell us what happened. And you,” she said, fixing Ben with an imperious glare as he rose from the ground, “don’t interrupt.”

Ben nodded curtly, although he and Robert continued to glower at each other, and Kate began to answer questions.

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