She sniffed delicately and fumbled in her pocket. He sighed and passed her his handkerchief. "Here."

"Thank you." Amusement still lingered in her face, contrasting oddly with the drying tears. "Another kindness. You'll have to polish your halo soon, Ranelaw."

"Don't get used to it. You know what I want."

The look she sent him under her straight blond brows was penetrating. "I thought I did."

He, famous for his eloquence, wasn't sure what to say. Insisting he was as unprincipled and callous as ever seemed a little desperate. And unconvincing in light of his recent behavior.

He stood, yet again feeling awkward. And he was a man who never felt ill at ease. He never cared enough to worry what impression he made.

"I should check on Cassie." She still watched him.

"Yes."

Again he couldn't force himself to leave. Although it was obvious, had always been obvious if he was honest with himself, that he wasn't going to fuck her today. He wanted her to come to him with spirit and passion intact. He didn't want to take her while she struggled against defeat and wretchedness.

"Let me check the corridor," she said, rising.

"The corridor. Yes."

He felt disoriented. Perhaps he came down with the mystery illness after all. Something was seriously wrong. This wasn't how he acted with a woman he targeted.

She slipped past, her faded cotton skirts brushing his legs with a seductive whisper. In a room this small, some physical contact was inevitable when two people crowded inside.

Desire had simmered beneath the surface. Now he hardened and his hands itched to grab her. Not to comfort but as a man seized a woman he wanted.

Carefully she opened the door and peeked out, then closed it and turned. "There's nobody there."

He needed more from her. He needed a promise to take away with him. Hunger gripped him like a fever. Perhaps it was a fever. He felt alarmingly light-headed.

"Meet me tonight," he said urgently, snatching her hand and carrying it to his lips. He pressed a passionate kiss to her palm and felt her tremble.

She frowned, looking delightfully confused. He saw that with every second, yielding Antonia submerged into the woman who persistently fended him off.

The hellish dilemma was he found both versions of her breathtakingly appealing.

"You know I can't." Her voice was husky. Perhaps from tears. Perhaps because her desire stirred too.

"I know you can." His grip on her hand tightened as if he tried to convince her through touch alone. "With the mess in the house, nobody's paying attention to you. Or to me for once in my life. What harm can it do?"

She tugged her hand free and cast him an unimpressed glance. Hard to believe only moments ago she'd rested in his arms as supine as a dozing kitten. "Don't be deliberately naive, Ranelaw. You know exactly the harm it could do. You mean to cause harm."

Yes, Dragon Antonia revived. But he'd had a heart-stopping glimpse of a softer, more malleable woman. He suspected if he got her alone, he could revive that pliant creature.

"Be brave, Antonia. We share a powerful desire."

He expected denial. As so often, she surprised him. "I'd be absurdly self-destructive to act upon it."

He paused to digest how readily she owned what she felt. It left him giddy. "There's a summerhouse on the other side of the lake. Do you know it?"

"Yes, I know it."

"Come to me there once the household is asleep."

She shook her head and he read no uncertainty. "I have to stay with Cassie."

"Let her maid sit with her tonight."

She retreated, bumping against the bed. This room really was no bigger than a rabbit hutch. Something in him resented her poor surroundings. She was a woman born for silks and diamonds and marble halls. If he seduced her, would she agree to become his mistress? The prospect set excitement blazing through him.

She shook her head again and her hands clenched at her sides. "I won't meet you."

He took the single step to corner her and slid his hand behind her head. Since he'd released her, he'd missed touching her. Soft hair tickled his fingers. He stared hard into her eyes, searching for the concessions he knew she wanted to make, common sense be damned. "Tonight, Antonia."

Again he expected her to evade him but she stood quiveringly still. He leaned forward and kissed her, a kiss rich with promise. Her lips moved softly in silent consent.

When he raised his head, he caught a longing in her face that made his blood thunder with anticipation. Yes, she wanted him. Perhaps almost as much as he wanted her, although in her inexperience, she probably didn't recognize that.

He turned on his heel and left.

Chapter Eleven.

"Toni, stop fussing." With a peevish gesture, Cassie flinched away from Antonia's attempts to bathe her.

The girl had started to improve the night after that astonishing hour Antonia spent with Lord Ranelaw in her room. She still couldn't believe that he'd had her in his arms on a bed and hadn't taken advantage. She still couldn't believe he'd been so kind.

Kindness was a word she'd never linked to Lord Ranelaw. Although perhaps she should. He'd had her at his mercy in her bedroom in London. He'd had her at his mercy by the river. And again here in the manor. All three times, she'd escaped. Purely thanks to his good graces. Honesty forced her to admit her principles had provided no defense at all.

That hour had been three days ago. Three days offering Antonia a chance to be glad she'd resisted the temptation to meet him. It was always easier to be sensible when she wasn't actually with Ranelaw.

Of course she hadn't gone to the summerhouse. She wasn't a complete fool, much as the marquess scrambled her brain when he kissed her. Ah, his kisses. If she closed her eyes, she still felt his mouth hard and demanding against her hand, then sweet upon her lips.

Ranelaw was such a contradictory mixture. No wonder he left her so befuddled.

Away from him, though, she saw her path clearly. She couldn't risk breaking society's rules again. For all that she often felt strangled as Antonia Smith, at least she was safe.

Cassie's sudden improvement rescued her from having to decide. Antonia smiled to recall her astounded gratitude when Cassie had turned to her and enunciated a complete sentence. Nothing profound. A request for water. But the first coherent words the girl had spoken in two days, since she'd descended into sweat-soaked fever.

After that, Antonia had watched Cassie sleep without pain for the first time in five days. She'd sent up a joyous prayer of thanks when her cousin woke clear-eyed and clearheaded, if exhausted.

Three days later, Cassie was strong enough to resent her confinement. She couldn't yet fend for herself, but she was well enough to complain. Over and over. Antonia was ready to scream. Even devoted Bella lost patience with the girl's pettishness.

"I want to go downstairs," Cassie said for the hundredth time in the last hour, then proved herself incapable of leaving her bed by breaking into a prolonged fit of coughing.

With an irritated gesture, Antonia plopped the flannel into the bowl of warm water. "You tried to stand this morning when we weren't looking and I had to pick you up, remember?"

"I'm feeling better now," Cassie said sullenly, tugging her night rail over her head.

"Maybe you can go downstairs tomorrow." Antonia had said the same thing yesterday.

With a heavy sigh, she turned away. She was deathly tired. Most of the household were still incapacitated so she and Bella continued full-time nursing. Although with every hour, a relapse in Cassie's health seemed more unlikely. Antonia began to think the greatest threat to Cassie's recovery was the possibility that her faithful companion Miss Smith would throttle her with a curtain rope.

"I want to go downstairs now."

"Nobody is around. The people who weren't sick have left and everybody else is in their rooms, ill or recovering. You'll be as bored downstairs as you are up here."

Thankfully, apart from an unlucky housemaid, there had been no deaths at Pelham Place. The village hadn't fared as well but even there, the epidemic receded.

"I'm bored altogether." Cassie flopped against the bed and stared discontentedly at the ceiling. "When are we going back to London? I'm sorry we came. Did Lord Ranelaw get sick?"

Antonia hid another sigh. It was the first time Cassie had mentioned her rakish suitor since she'd fallen ill.

"No."

Cassie still eyed the ceiling. "I suppose he went back to London."

"I don't know," Antonia said with perfect honesty, turning her back to tidy the gear from Cassie's bed bath. She didn't dare meet Cassie's eyes in case she betrayed that she and Ranelaw were no longer hostile strangers. Although for the life of her, she couldn't say just what they were instead.

"I'm sick of the country," Cassie said fretfully, plucking at the sheet beneath her.

"If you're better tomorrow, we'll go. You're up to traveling in short stages and I'm sure Lady Humphrey is weary of having her house turned into a hospital."

Cassie looked brighter. "That would be wonderful, Toni."

Antonia dared to mention something she knew wouldn't meet with approval. "Perhaps we should go back to Bascombe Hailey. You've been dreadfully sick, Cassie. I thought you were dying. I can't remember being so worried."

With an irritated gesture, Cassie brushed Antonia's concern aside. "Of course I wasn't dying. I'm going to dazzle the ton."

"You'll need to get considerably better than you are now before you start dancing yourself into a stupor," Antonia said repressively.

As expected, Cassie didn't take that well. "Go away, Toni. Bella will be here soon and I'm sick of your scolding."

"I was going to read to you. It will pass the time."

Cassie looked away with a pout. "I can read for myself."

Yesterday, even this morning, Antonia would have ignored Cassie's spoiled behavior. But she couldn't help feeling that if Cassie was well enough to be surly, she was well enough to manage with Bella's sole attention for a few hours.

Cassie wasn't the only one bored with the room. Although at least this chamber was airy and light and furnished with every luxury, unlike the tiny cupboard assigned to Antonia.

Briefly she closed her eyes as the image rose of Lord Ranelaw's powerful body making her room seem even smaller. She'd tried not to dwell upon that encounter, but it was impossible. Especially since Cassie started to recover and nursing no longer occupied Antonia's every thought.

One thing was clear. Ranelaw wasn't quite the evil reprobate she'd once judged him.

Of course he wasn't. His complexity was part of his fascination.

Her attraction to Ranelaw made her girlish infatuation with Johnny seem a fickle fancy. That fickle fancy had destroyed her life. What disaster, then, did her interest in Ranelaw threaten?

"Toni, I said go away," Cassie repeated when Antonia didn't immediately respond. "I want to be alone. Between you and Bella, I haven't had a minute's privacy."

"If we'd left you alone when you were sick, you mightn't have lived to see another day," Antonia said with a hint of acid. "You could express a little gratitude. Poor Bella left in tears yesterday."

Cassie, to her credit, looked uncomfortable. "She fidgets like an old woman."

"She loves you."

"I know." Cassie sent her a guilt-ridden glance. The resentment drained from her voice. "I'm so tired of being stuck in bed. Honestly, some time on my own would do me good."

"As you wish." Antonia poured a fresh glass of water and placed it on the nightstand. "Don't be mean to Bella. She hardly slept while you were ill."

Cassie grabbed Antonia's hand. "I'm a witch."

Antonia's lips flattened on a fervent agreement. Instead she answered less contentiously. "We're all stretched to our limits."

Cassie's hold tightened. "I don't deserve you."

Antonia met her cousin's eyes and spoke nothing less than the truth. "I owe you and your father a debt I can never repay. But I look after you because I love you. I know you want some entertainment. I can't blame you. But it's neither my fault nor Bella's that your strength hasn't returned yet."

Cassie flushed and glanced away. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Antonia said quietly.

Cassie looked at Antonia. "But seriously, Toni, don't you want to get out of this room too? Leave me be for the evening. Bella will bring up my supper, then I'll sleep."

"You need rest." She injected a lighter note. "Especially if you soon mean to dance the night away."

"I hope so." Cassie lifted the glass and sipped. "I was having such a marvelous time. I'd hate to think it ended."

Antonia wandered toward the open window. Cassie's room overlooked the formal gardens to the side of the house. No summerhouse in the distance to remind her of Lord Ranelaw. She glanced up at the evening star in the moonless sky, shining alone in the deepening blue. The view was beautiful, serene, calming, and suddenly, yes, Antonia did want to breathe air untainted by illness and pique.

Cassie was right. She fussed. Antonia turned and caught an assessing look in her cousin's face. She was puzzled, then decided she must mistake the expression in those limpid blue eyes.

She headed toward the door. "I'll be walking in the grounds if you need me."

"I won't need you," Cassie said with unflattering confidence. "If anything happens, Bella's here."

Antonia slipped onto the terrace where she'd encountered Lord Ranelaw the day he arrived. She wore one of the few dresses remaining from her life as Lord Aveson's daughter. She'd made numerous alterations to the blue muslin gown, but no new braiding or fresh buttons could hide the woefully outmoded style. Or that it was an extravagant garment utterly beyond a humble companion's means.

In spite of her crushing weariness, she was edgy and restless. She needed to get outside, move about. And for a moment, reclaim Antonia Hilliard from the unending drudgery of playing Miss Smith.

She glanced into the clear sky. After a beautiful day that she'd seen only through Cassie's windows, it was that magical hour before full darkness. A nightingale trilled from the thick shrubbery beside the terrace. Otherwise the world was hushed.