"Men proposition women all the time. Every once in a while, a fellow gets lucky."

He leaned forward on his elbows so he was much closer, and she shifted away, unnerved by his nearness, by the masculine virility he emitted without even trying.

"What's your opinion, Sophia?" he asked. "Will I be one of those fellows who gets very, very lucky?"

She'd just raised her fork to her mouth, and it hovered there until she dropped it to her plate.

"I think you should tell me what I'd have to do."

"What you'd have to...do?" he repeated back to her. "We'd carry on an affair."

"Meaning what?"

"You'd join me in my bed whenever I request it of you."

"I don't know what happens there."

"Don't worry. I'll teach you."

She trembled with dismay, but with excitement too. She felt very brazen, as if they were talking about someone else.

"Is it the conduct wives perform?"

"Yes."

"Would I be any good at it?"

"I'm positive you would be or I wouldn't have asked you."

"Would I like it?"

He grinned a cocky grin. "With me as your partner? Of course you'd like it."

"You're confident. I'll say that for you."

"I'm confident because I'm clear on what I want, and I want you."

"If we proceed, can you guarantee I'd be able to stay at Kirkwood?"

He hesitated, then said, "You could stay. You might have to live in Drummond Cottage, but after Damian leaves, I could fix it up so you'd be uncomfortable."

Was he telling the truth? Oh, how she wished she'd had more experience with men or that she had an older, wiser female from whom she could seek advice. How was she to deduce if he was being candid? How was she to determine if he'd follow through on a promise?

She'd be assuming all the risks, and he'd assume nothing at all. Men could misbehave in a hundred salacious ways, and if they were caught people clucked their tongues and grumbled about loose morals. But let a woman step off the righteous path just once, and her entire life was ruined.

She was so confused! So conflicted! She'd never resided anywhere but Kirkwood, had never traveled or had sophisticated, urbane friends. She was simply a girl from a rural village who needed to support herself now that her world had been destroyed.

She groaned and put her head in her hands. "I hate this."

"What? The food? I think it's excellent."

"No, I hate you."

"Me! If that's your attitude, I must inform you that it's not a very good place for us to start."

"I don't hate you. I hate that you're pressuring me."

He reached across the table, took her hands away from her face and held them in his own. "There's no pressure, Sophia."

"There is!"

"You can refuse. I'm an adult. I'll survive."

"But what would become of me then?"

"I don't know."

"See? There's the pressure you're applying. I have no other option but you-and you won't allow me to forget it."

"You could do a lot worse than allying yourself with me. I'm loyal and reliable, and I won't ever beat you or bankrupt you."

"How low have my fortunes sunk? The most I can hope for is that I won't be beaten! It's so humiliating."

Looking torn, he studied her, then sighed with what might have been regret. "I have to tell you a secret about your brother. Damian and I decided we wouldn't, but you should be apprised."

"Is it ghastly?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"When Miles was gambling with Damian, he kept digging a deeper hole for himself."

"Don't remind me."

"Eventually he realized he was doomed and had no assets to continue to bet so he bet you."

"Me?"

"And Miss Fogarty too."

"How could he bet over us?"

"He said Damian could have you as his mistress. Damian declined so he offered Miss Fogarty."

She was so astonished she nearly fell off her chair. Miles was selfish and could be very cruel. He'd mentioned this very issue to her and Georgina, but they'd thought he was joking. What type of man wagered over his sister? What type of man would give her to a stranger? Was Miles insane?

"I would never have agreed," she firmly declared.

"I've sat in gambling halls around the globe, Sophia. I've seen these kinds of bets made over and over. They're very common, and even though a female insists she wouldn't participate, when the stakes are high and the consequences severe, you'd be surprised by how swiftly a woman will consent."

"Miles wouldn't have forced me," she claimed. "He might have asked me, but he wouldn't have forced me into it."

"So you say."

"I do say. He's not a monster."

"Where is he now? How can you be sure he's not in London, selling you to someone much worse than Damian could ever be?"

She gasped. "You suppose he would?"

"A desperate man will commit any heinous deed."

He was still holding her hands, and she pulled them away and laid them in her lap. When he was touching her, she couldn't think clearly.

She'd like to rush to her mother and inform her of Miles's perfidy, but her mother wouldn't believe it so she had to find Georgina. Georgina was aware of how malicious Miles could be, but this seemed beyond the pale even for him.

"You're in trouble, Sophia," he said. "I can help you."

"The sort of help you'd like to supply isn't what I need."

"You're wrong. It's exactly what you need: a home, food, clothes to wear, money to spend. And a man to protect you. It's quite a list."

"Marry me then." It was a suggestion she'd previously raised and he'd rejected.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because if I ever wed it will be for love and affection."

It was a peculiar reply. "Are you a romantic at heart?"

"I guess I am. I had a family when I was a boy, and I miss it. I have every intention of landing myself in a good situation, of being wanted by the people who should want me."

"It's a noble goal."

"I also can't wed you because it would hurt Damian, and I owe him everything."

"Why do you owe him so much?"

"He saved my life on a thousand different occasions."

"What type of life have you lived, Mr. Roxbury, that it was constantly in need of saving?"

"I might confide in you someday-but I'd have to get to know you better. I'd have to be certain I could trust you."

"Trust me with what? Wicked secrets?"

"Secrets, yes. Not wicked ones though." He paused, then chuckled. "Actually I'd probably never tell you, no matter how close we were. I like my past to remain in the past, and if I revealed any of it, you wouldn't like me."

They stared, an intimacy growing between them. He looked genuinely fond of her, as if he truly liked her and enjoyed her company. It made her wish there was time for him to court her, to woo her. She hadn't learned a single detail about him, but she thought she might like to.

Who were his kin? What were his roots, his ancestry? How stable were his fiscal affairs? He'd been educated, his speech, mannerisms, and attire indicated culture and breeding. Was he worth having? Might he be?

Yet there was no time for courting. There was only this Thursday evening, then Saturday morning would quickly arrive, and she, her mother, and Georgina would have to depart.

"I don't love you," she absurdly said.

"Which is the foremost reason I would never propose."

"I don't know if I ever could love you."

"Who can predict what might happen in the future? I'm quite a grand fellow in my own way, and I'm an optimist. I have steady employment at Kirkwood. I'm skilled and courteous and sensible. Why not take a chance on me?"

"If I did"-gad, was she considering it?-"could marriage become possible later on?"

He pondered forever, then shook his head. "No, Sophia. There's my bond with Damian. I would never deceive or upset him."

"What if I talked to him for you?"

"It's not a good idea. He wouldn't be polite."

"I imagine not."

She pushed back her chair. She'd barely touched the meal, and though she was starving, she'd lost her appetite.

"I should go," she murmured.

"You haven't eaten anything."

"I wasn't hungry after all."

"What will I tell Cook? She'll assume she failed to please you. You'll hurt her feelings. And if you leave so soon, you'll hurt mine too."

"I will not," she scoffed.

"I've been on pins and needles all day, hoping you'd dare to visit."

"You liar. You haven't thought about me at all."

"I have." He patted his thigh. "Come here."

She scowled. "Where? Onto your lap?"

"Yes."

The most annoying thrill swept through her, yet she primly replied, "I don't believe I ought."