The servant gave a snort. "Bathing machines. Drowning traps is more like. And indecent to boot with the ladies stripped down to their unmentionables." She bustled across to the open wardrobe to hang a gown. "But I do like a sea breeze, I confess. Here now, enough of such talk. Let me get you dressed and ready so you can join the others. Surely they're all near arrived by now."

India herself had arrived only a couple hours ago, having made the journey from London with her aunt Ava-the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Clybourne-and cousin Mallory. From the start, she'd been excited about the invitation to attend the Pettigrews' country party. But now that she was here, she was even more grateful and determined to enjoy herself-hoping the respite would be just what she needed to clear the memories of a certain dark-haired gentleman from her mind.

Each night she dreamed of him-her stranger from the garden-his gravelly voice murmuring in her ear, his kisses sweeping her away into realms of forbidden pleasure where only the two of them dwelled.

But such phantasms were just that-fantasies that were best forgotten, as was the man himself. He'd helped her get rid of Peter, whom she hadn't seen since the day of the reception. And now she needed to set her stranger aside as well.

Forcing him from her thoughts, she turned and let her maid a.s.sist her into her gown.

Twenty minutes later, she went downstairs. She found herself alone, however, the hour apparently too early yet for the others to have left the sanctuary of their own bedchambers.

Deciding to explore a bit, she wandered along the s.p.a.cious corridors and elegantly furnished rooms, stopping every once in a while to admire a particularly attractive piece of artwork or an interesting architectural element. Eventually she found the library. Strolling inside, she began perusing the books on the shelves.

She'd just taken down a volume of poetry by Wordsworth, when she heard m.u.f.fled footfalls on the carpet behind her. Eager for the company, she turned with an expectant smile, but her good humor plummeted at sight of the rangy young man who had entered the room. The book she held fell to the floor with a thump.

"Here, allow me to get that for you," declared an overly earnest voice she'd hoped never to hear again. Her lips tightened as she watched Peter-the Pest-Harte hurry forward to retrieve the book.

Before he could do so, however, she dipped down and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the volume. "No need," she announced. "I have it."

He stopped and rocked back on his heels, an injured expression on his long, almost cherubic countenance. "You ought to have let me do that for you, Miss Byron. That's what gentlemen are for. To aid a lady in her hour of need."

Willpower and good manners were all that kept her from rolling her eyes. Hour of need, really! Hour of need, really!

"Well, lucky me," she said. "Disaster has been averted."

He gave her a happy smile, the faintly mocking quality of her retort having apparently escaped him.

Good heavens, I have to get away and get away now! she thought. she thought.

"I'm sorry, but my cousin is waiting for me above stairs," she said on a quick improvisation. "I was just going to take this...this book to her. I must go immediately."

"May I say you're looking splendid," he declared, as though she hadn't spoken at all. "Do you know it's been two weeks since last we met?"

Yes, I know. Two wonderful, glorious weeks.

"How I've missed you, Miss Byron. I have been bereft without sight of your exquisite beauty. Truly, you are a rare pearl among a vast sea of female oysters."

Female oysters?

"Inspired by such thoughts, I have written a poem to express my feelings."

"No, no poems!" she stated, holding up a hand. "This book, you see." She waved the volume in the air. "I really have no time to spare in its urgent delivery."

His round chin jutted forward, clearly annoyed that his quest was being met with resistance. "But surely you can remain a bit longer."

"I am sorry, I cannot." She moved to depart.

He stepped forward and blocked her path. "But I must be permitted to speak. I shall read only the opening few stanzas. You will see-" He began reaching into his pocket.

"No! Don't!" she stated. "Do not read that poem."

For a long moment, he stood silent, then slowly lowered his hand to his side. "Very well, if that is what you wish. Though I must tell you that it's one of my best," he said in a clearly petulant voice. "Even so, I insist you hear me out in plain language, since you deny me the right to express my emotions in verse."

He paced a few steps, then stopped. "Although I am loath to say, I've been deuced upset-pardon my language-ever since that day at the reception." He crossed his arms over his slender chest, his high forehead wrinkling with irritation. "I was most shocked...wounded, and yes, appalled by your brazen behavior. Yet in spite of your...indiscretion, I have decided to forgive you."

Her mouth fell open. "What!"

"Which is why I am here."

She frowned as a sudden thought occurred. "Now that you mention it, how is it that you are are here? I didn't think you were even acquainted with the Pettigrews." here? I didn't think you were even acquainted with the Pettigrews."

A sheepish look came over this face. "I'm not, but my aunt is, and I wrangled an invitation through her. Auntie Ethel is a bosom friend of Lady Pettigrew's, don't you know."

No, I didn't, she bemoaned silently. she bemoaned silently. If I had, I would never have come. If I had, I would never have come.

"When I told my aunt of my intention to marry you," he continued, "she was most obliging on my behalf."

Air whooshed out of her lungs. "You told her what?"

"Now, don't ruffle up so, my love. All will be well, you will see."

Her fingers squeezed so hard against the book she held that her knuckles turned white. "I am not your love, and you had no right to discuss such matters with your aunt, especially since we are not not engaged." engaged."

Ruddy color crept into his fair cheeks. "I didn't say we were. Only that I hoped we would be soon."

She trembled, outraged frustration churning through her like a bad case of dyspepsia. "Mr. Harte-"

"Peter," he interjected on an optimistic note.

"Mr. Harte. I have tried to be understanding and patient over these last weeks. Believe me, I am sensible of the honor of your proposal and have no wish to injure your feelings. However, I must tell you that your suit is not welcome." I have tried to be understanding and patient over these last weeks. Believe me, I am sensible of the honor of your proposal and have no wish to injure your feelings. However, I must tell you that your suit is not welcome."

For a moment, he hung his head, shoulders slumping in dejection. "You are only being modest-"

"I a.s.sure you, I am not. My recent indiscretion, indiscretion, as you called it, certainly ought to have proven that much to you. Now, I bid you good day and hope this is the end of the matter." Clutching the volume of poetry to her chest, she started toward the door. as you called it, certainly ought to have proven that much to you. Now, I bid you good day and hope this is the end of the matter." Clutching the volume of poetry to her chest, she started toward the door.

"No," he said.

She halted, turning back. "Pardon?"

His thin shoulders drew straight, his voice gaining volume and strength. "I said no. You are too important to me to simply give up. I refuse to cede the field of romantic conquest without a fight. Providence has placed us here together in this house for the next week-time that will allow me to woo you and prove that I am worthy of your love."

Horrified shock rippled over her skin, a sick lump dropping to the bottom of her stomach like a wad of old biscuit dough.

"Yes," he continued, renewed confidence ringing in his tone. "I will demonstrate my affection and win you to my side. By week's end, you will have forgotten all about that fellow you were kissing in the garden and want only my my kisses." kisses."

"Believe me, I shall not."

"What was his name anyway? That man man," he asked, practically spitting out the last word.

This cannot be happening, she thought in near panic. "His name is not important. And you are wrong about the other," she declared. "The man you saw, he...he..." she thought in near panic. "His name is not important. And you are wrong about the other," she declared. "The man you saw, he...he..." Yes? Think quick! Yes? Think quick! "He is practically my betrothed," she stated. "He is practically my betrothed," she stated.

"What!"

"Yes," she went on, scrambling wildly to come up with her next excuse. "He is a friend of the family, and I've known him for years. We met again earlier this summer on a visit...b-before you arrived at the house...and he has been mad for me ever since. I expect him to make an offer at any moment."

His tawny brows drew close, the bridge of his aquiline nose wrinkling in consternation. "Spence didn't say anything about your being courted by someone else."

"Of course, he didn't. I am not yet out, so nothing official can be said at present. And Spencer was away from the house at the time, so even he doesn't know. But this man...he is very serious about me and very very jealous. So you see why you must end this futile pursuit. I belong to someone else." jealous. So you see why you must end this futile pursuit. I belong to someone else."

There! she thought. she thought. Surely that will send him on his way. Surely that will send him on his way.

His lower lip quivered, large hands clenched at his sides. "Well, you don't belong to him yet, and I have this week to prove the superiority of my affection. Anyway, if he's so in love with you, where is he? This almost betrothed almost betrothed of yours?" of yours?"

She gripped the book more tightly, wishing she could use it to whack Peter over the head. Instead, she forced herself to think fast again. "He...um...he is delayed by business. But he'll be here. I'm just not sure when."

Never was when, but in the meantime, maybe she could use the threat of her stranger's arrival to hold the Pest at bay. She only hoped her stalling tactics would work. Otherwise, she didn't like to contemplate the days ahead. was when, but in the meantime, maybe she could use the threat of her stranger's arrival to hold the Pest at bay. She only hoped her stalling tactics would work. Otherwise, she didn't like to contemplate the days ahead.

"I need to take this book upstairs, if you'll recall," she said.

He gave a sharp, almost pugnacious nod, then thrust his hands into his pockets.

Turning, she hurried to the door. Walking at a clip, she moved down the hall and into the corridor beyond. She turned one corner, then another, head down as she searched for the main staircase. She had nearly reached it, or so she hoped, when she rounded another corner and barreled straight into something. Or rather someone. Or rather someone.

"Oh, good heavens!" she said, as the man with whom she'd collided reached out to steady her. Tipping back her head to issue an apology, she met a pair of warm, coffee brown eyes.

Eyes she'd seen only last night in her dreams.

She drew in a sharp breath, the compelling magnetism of his dark, distinctive features and vital personality even more powerful than she recalled-and even more appealing.

His lips curved into a slow smile. "Well, h.e.l.lo again," he drawled. "I must say, you and I seem to meet in the most unconventional of ways."

Her heart pounded in her chest. "You're here," she marveled.

His smile widened. "I am indeed. Were you expecting me?"

"No," she said, recovering a measure of her equilibrium. "But I am incredibly glad to see you. We need to talk."

Chapter Three

Surprised again, Quentin thought, as he let the incomparable Miss Byron lead him into a nearby drawing room. Quentin thought, as he let the incomparable Miss Byron lead him into a nearby drawing room.

And to think I very nearly decided not to come.

He'd accepted the Pettigrews' invitation to their country party ages ago, but after receiving a rather cryptic note from his friend Jack Byron last week-informing him that he would not be able to attend as planned-Quentin had considered sending his regrets.

But now he was pleased he hadn't-sensing the boredom that had been creeping back upon him lately melt away like a clump of snow dropped onto a blazing hearth. He could almost feel the sizzle.

What is she up to this time? he wondered. In spite of the loud peal of several internal warning bells, he knew he had to find out. he wondered. In spite of the loud peal of several internal warning bells, he knew he had to find out.

He watched as she crossed to a window that overlooked the sprawling green lawn beyond. Stopping, she laid the book she was holding on a nearby chair before turning around. "It would seem I am in need of your a.s.sistance again," she stated, glancing up to meet his gaze.

He strode forward, halting less than a foot away from her. "More kisses, is it?" he said, unable to resist the urge to tease her a bit. He forced back a grin, as a telltale wash of pink stained her cheeks.

"No." She gave him a look of reproach, followed by another that seemed curiously chagrined. "This time I need you to pretend to be wildly enamored of me and on the verge of proposing marriage."

His jaw grew slack. Recovering quickly, he gave her a long stare. "Might you care to repeat that?"

"Only if you are hard of hearing, which I can tell you are not. Truly, I apologize in advance for springing this on you so abruptly, but I haven't much time."

"You never do," he remarked with a sardonic twist.

She ignored his comment, and continued, "You see, he's back!"

"Who is back?"

"Peter Harte. The simpleton who was trailing me at the reception."

"The wounded puppy, you mean?"

She nodded. "Precisely. He procured an invitation from Lady Pettigrew to attend this party for the sole purpose of seeking me out again. Only minutes ago, he cornered me in the library to say he has forgiven me for kissing you that day in the garden and that he plans to win me away from you."

"And he believes I am pursuing you because of our kiss?"

Her skin glowed with fresh color. "Well, in part. And also because I may have told him we are very nearly engaged."

He raised a brow. "Good Lord!"

"Also, you've known my immediate family for years," she said, as she continued reciting her litany of deceits. "And when the two of us met again earlier this summer at my father's house, the sparks flew."

She isn't far wrong about that, he mused. he mused. Every time we meet, sparks do fly. Every time we meet, sparks do fly. Although right now, he was trying to decide which emotion had the upper hand-irritation or amus.e.m.e.nt. "Anything else we did together that I should know about?" Although right now, he was trying to decide which emotion had the upper hand-irritation or amus.e.m.e.nt. "Anything else we did together that I should know about?"

Her lovely full lips drew tight in concentration. "Not that I can think of."

"How rea.s.suring."

Their gazes met, her green eyes beseeching once more. "Oh, do please forgive me. I never meant to involve you, but he simply would not take no for an answer. What else was I to do?"

He could think of several options but decided to keep his mouth shut for the time being. Honestly, he'd never met a more impetuous minx, nor one so brazen. Why then, do I find her so delightful? Why then, do I find her so delightful?

"I realize it's asking a great deal," she said, laying a hand on his sleeve. "But couldn't you court me for a little while? Just until Peter goes away again. I expect once he sees us together, he'll storm off like he did before, and that will be the end of the matter."