She was afraid of Lord Devonshire.

"That is a lot of thought going into a hat, Miss Bailey. Perhaps, being the practical sort, you are asking yourself where you would wear something so extravagant."

"I'm not without a social agenda," she lied, not pleased with his observation, even though she'd said the same thing to Ryan at the fairgrounds. With the exception of Brianna's company and her morning whist games, Rachel had no social life in London.

"Let me guess. For lack of anything else to do yesterday, you joined Lady Ravenspur's whist club. You played with dowagers, spinsters, and other progressive thinkers. Today you've spent shopping though you've only purchased"-he lifted the lid of a red-painted box that she carried-"a doll."

Rachel pulled the box against her chest. "She's a gift."

"For Lord Ravenspur's two sons, no doubt."

"No doubt," she said behind a smile, eyeing him more thoroughly since his approach. He wore a dark blue frock coat, white morning waistcoat, and black trousers, looking quite dapper, as if he always appeared ready for public consumption. "How do you know what I've been doing?"

"I saw Ravenspur, yesterday. It was his wife's whist day." Looking at the box, he added, "The rest was an educated guess." He held out his arm. "The day is young, so count me your social agenda for the rest of the afternoon. We can do whatever you wish."

She looked up at the blue sky, felt the summer breeze on her face, and smiled. "I wouldn't mind finding something of an exhausting physical nature to do," she said, thinking she would enjoy a bout of horseback riding. Anything to help her sleep at night.

Bathwick threw back his head and laughed. When his blue eyes again met hers, they had warmed considerably from that last time she'd seen him at his Mayfair home, and they'd struck their bargain. She liked him. She liked that he had callused hands and an easy smile that she suspected was not as easy as he pretended, that despite his debonair, aristocratic front, he seemed to be as much an outcast as she was.

"You are not the stick in the mud as you enjoy letting on, Miss Bailey." Lord Bathwick observed her pleasantly through an eyepiece. "Your problem is that you are a woman in a man's world. A place where you can never compete-except as a woman. You would be amazed how cooperative a man can be in the right frame of mind."

"Are you, in your polite way, trying to tell me that I should take advantage of my charms-in a way that men will overlook my...?"

"Brains?"

"Faults."

They continued to walk. "Have you considered that men are a perverse breed intent on their own pleasures? A woman who is smarter than they are is no pleasure."

"A man who is not as smart as I am needs to attend better to his studies." She smiled. "I care little for his pleasure."

"I've off ended you," he said.

"Not at all." Only because he spoke the truth. Men looked at a woman from the chin down. She'd learned out of necessity not to be the wrong kind of target, which certainly made the array of feminine feelings Ryan had awakened in her unfamiliar. Ryan, whom she hadn't spoken to in days but dreamed

about at nights, who made her feel as if she were seventeen again and alive.

"We have veered from the topic at hand," he said. "You wanted to see me at St. Anthony's for a reason, I presume."

"I hope I was not inconvenient in asking to see you." She did her best to remain calm. But under the circumstances, Lord Bathwick had to understand her position. "Some things have changed since our last meeting. Until John Donally returns and we can sit down and talk, Mr. Donally and I have agreed upon a truce."

The humor left his face. "Of course he'd ask you to do that.""It isn't like that. This is a business-""As is ours." The walkway grew crowded, and he lowered his voice. "As such, we have agreed upon a course of action. One, by the way, of which Donally is already aware."

Her gaze widened on his, and she saw that he'd been waiting for that reaction. "Just a thought for you to

consider," he offered with no solace. "This is what Donally and I do, Miss Bailey. If you have personal feelings that will interfere with the agreement we made, allow me to finish buying up D&B stock for you."

Their eyes remained locked. "Have you considered that we need John Donally?"

"If he won't head the company, as the former heir to Ore Industries I am more than familiar with the

business. Unlike my aristocratic brethren, I am not averse to managing my own source of revenue."

The doll grew heavier in her arms.

Under the circumstances, she could not allow him to invest more than he already had, when a partnership

with her now meant nothing in the wake of Ryan's legal claim on her. "You may withdraw from our

agreement, my lord," she said, knowing she had to wait for Johnny. "I will understand."

Lord Bathwick murmured something and looked away but not before she glimpsed a frown beneath his usual urbane expression. "Your stubbornness will be my undoing."

Some of the tension evaporated. "How did Ryan find out about our partnership?"

He leaned both hands on the silver head of his walking stick and considered her. "Donally and I have a

history. Even if he did not see the list of major stockholders in the company, he knew you couldn't makea bid for the company alone. He came to see me at Cassavas a few days ago and tried to buy me out.""He wouldn't dare!""Ah, but he did. So, you see? If this entire issue didn't intrigue me so much, I might find it more profitable to opt out. You'll learn your error soon enough."

Ryan knew about her partnership with Bathwick and he had not come to see her.

Realizing that Bathwick had just said something profound, her mind suddenly stopped and lingered

worriedly on the scenario of his words. "What does that mean?"

"Have you ever wondered how Donally found out about your Rathdrum project?"

Rachel swallowed her uneasiness. She'd assumed that Johnny had told him.

"It's Ore Industries' policy when confronting a hostile target to do an investigation on that target. By every account, my father considered you hostile before Donally went to Ireland. Why, Miss Bailey? Not that it matters to me." Lord Bathwick brushed aside his concern with an airy wave of his gloved hand. "But it might to Donally.

"You see, he is the only man who has ever beaten my father. Soundly. In the public arena. My father hates him, but he needs him-rather like a leech needs blood to survive, and has proven himself capable of using any means at his disposal to keep people in check."

Lord Bathwick bent over her hand. "Welcome to my world, Miss Bailey."

Chapter 16.

T he hansom pulled up to the curb of Ore Industries an hour after Rachel left Lord Bathwick. She dug into her reticule to pay the driver, frustrated because, for all of her composure, her hands shook. Grabbing hold of her hat in the gust, she let her gaze travel up the side of one of the tallest buildings in London. The door attendant and lift operator were present, which meant someone was still in the building at this late-afternoon hour.

Rachel had never been to the Ore Industries building.

No secretary greeted her entry on the eighth floor. The closed blinds covering the paladin windows impeded the light, but as she stood alone in the anteroom, Rachel heard the low rumble of voices from one of the offices and knew Ryan was there. A door was ajar. Recognizing his voice, she felt a keen awareness of him, and relief, unsettling in its novelty.

His presence carried security.

Standing in the anteroom, she could see three men sitting around his desk. If she moved to the left, she could see Ryan. He was leaning back in his chair, one ankle drawn casually over his knee, his fingers threaded behind his head. He wore no jacket, and his white sleeves were turned up to his elbows as if he had been at the drafting board.

Remaining in the shadows, Rachel found a chair that allowed her an unimpeded view of Ryan. Because of the unusual summer heat that week, she had removed her jacket before she'd left D&B. She wore a shirtwaist over a white blouse and brown skirt, but even with less clothing, her skin was damp beneath her corset.

Ryan's voice pulled her gaze. He was speaking about the currently stalled negotiations ongoing in France. Valmonts was once a prestigious engineering firm, with roots into the past that went deeper than D&B's. She had never taken part in meetings on this level, and despite her discomfiture with their ongoing topic, she observed him with professional interest. In his office, high above London, fitting his station, Ryan existed for the negotiation.

Pale daylight streamed into the room, complimenting the white of his teeth as he grinned at something someone said that made the group laugh. Then he leaned forward-his shoulders contained by the pristine cloth of his shirt and folded his hands on his desk. As she watched him speak, it hit her with the flutter of her heart that this man was really her husband.

Hers.

People listened to him. She listened. He discussed contracts and projects on the same level that he entertained notable figureheads. She knew how he could lead an international corporation. Why the financials followed him.

There, in his element, he ruled from the clouds as she lived with her feet firmly planted on the earth, among the greenery and mists of Ireland.

Remembering Lord Devonshire's threat about scandal toppling kingdoms, Rachel feared her presence in

his life would hurt Ryan. She had no idea the extent of Devonshire's knowledge of her personal history.

How much of her past did he really know? It no longer mattered. She had come there today to tell Ryan the truth.

With a mental groan, Rachel leaned her elbow on the chair rest. Ryan must have seen the movement, for he turned his head and saw her.

She froze.

"If you will excuse me for a moment," she heard him say as he stood.Rachel came to her feet when he entered the anteroom. Nothing in Ryan's gaze told her anything, exceptthat he was surprised to see her. Indeed, he'd made an offer to her and managed to vanish from her sightcompletely for an entire week.

She apologized for interrupting him. "May I speak with you?"

"This isn't a good time," he said, his stance businesslike, but there was a glimmer in his eyes that warmed

her everywhere as he took her elbow and pulled her farther into the shadows. "As you can see, I'm in ameeting.""Mr. Stewart didn't tell me that this meeting was on your itinerary," she said, aware that what he did here did not belong in the realm of her jurisdiction with D&B.

"You only talked to one of my secretaries. I have three. Welcome to Ore Industries."

Feeling caged by the lack of light, she shifted her mind abruptly to look around the room. For a moment,

neither spoke. She stood beside him, an inch from her past, seeking some place other than his face to rest her gaze. "I had heard that you paid a visit to Lord Bathwick..." Her voice faded as it occurred to her that this wasn't exactly the topic with which she wanted to begin.

At least that was one secret she didn't have to keep from Ryan.

"He didn't wait long before coming to you," Ryan said, his unconcern and total lack of alarm making herfrown. "How close do you think you two are?"We're business partners." She tightened her arms over her torso and peered up at him curiously. "He's in love with Lady Gwyneth."

"Quaint."

"I think he wants to fight you for both her and the company."

"I don't need to fight anyone for Gwyneth." Dark lashes framed the sharp edge of ice in his eyes. "And I

will never let him take anything that belongs to me. I suggest you stay away from him, Rachel.""You and I agreed not to purchase stock. I'm perfectly within my rights to wage battle on the rest of thebusiness front as I see fit. Especially since I know you would do the same thing I'm doing in my place."

Ryan noted the warning in her eyes. "All is fair in love and war, is that your creed?" he challenged as if he considered her outburst amusing, if not fraught with gullibility.

Then she realized that her alliance with Bathwick did not threaten him, that he merely deemed it an inconvenience. "Clearly, Lord Bathwick is no different than you are in matters of business. You are both bloodthirsty. I feel as if I should be wearing a necklace of garlic."

"Is this what you came here to discuss?"

Noting that the men in the office had grown quiet, she looked around Ryan's shoulder. Without turning, he seemed to note the same thing. "I have to get back."