Lord Ranelaw and Cassie joined the merriment, without, Antonia was relieved to note, concentrating solely on each other. But then, she thought sourly, why rush to express their preferences? They had days to make mischief and a vast estate to do it in.

Not for the first time, she cursed Godfrey Demarest for leaving her alone to shepherd Cassie safely through her first season. Just for once, surely he could have put his daughter ahead of his worldly pleasures.

Her headache returned with a vengeance and eventually she excused herself on a murmur of apology. With so many eyes observing, Cassie wasn't likely to sneak away with her suitor.

Nobody watched Antonia leave. Apart from Ranelaw. He did a marvelous impression of involvement in the conversation, but Antonia knew his attention hadn't shifted from her for a second.

He had no intention of letting her forget their unfinished business.

Antonia retreated to the small, dark room off Cassie's that had been assigned to her. The chamber was appropriate for a superior servant. Away from home, she couldn't be treated as a family member without undue comment.

To calm the mad rush of her pulse, she splashed cold water on her flushed face. She lifted a threadbare towel and told herself for the hundredth time to get used to her shabby accommodations.

By the end of this season, it was highly likely Cassie would be betrothed. Dear God, let it not be to Ranelaw, although he wasn't really a candidate for Cassie's hand. Mr. Demarest would never give permission for his only daughter to marry such an unrepentant rake, even if the marquess did the pretty and proposed. Being an unrepentant rake himself, Demarest was most insistent that his daughter stay far away from the breed.

Once Cassie wed, she'd have no further use for a chaperone. Her cousin had long said she planned to take Antonia with her to her new home, but few young men newly married would approve that plan.

No, the most likely future for Antonia Smith was employment in another household. As she surveyed her unappealing room, she muffled a depressed sigh at the prospect of a lifetime of such surroundings.

Cassandra came up late to change for dinner, breezing into her room with a smile. The smile faltered when she saw Antonia waiting in the chair beside the lit fire. The day had been warm but evenings still drew in with a chill.

"Toni . " Cassie blushed and looked away guiltily as she laid her hat upon the bed. "Aren't you changing?"

"I can change in five minutes and you know it," Antonia said repressively. "You deceived me."

"I . I don't know what you mean." The girl didn't meet her eyes. She wandered to the dressing table with an unconvincing show of carelessness and began to unpin her hair. "Bella will be here soon."

"Bella's appearance may delay what I have to say. It won't save you from hearing it."

Cassie turned, her chin at an angle that Antonia recognized. Cassie rarely dug her heels in, but when she did, she was as stubborn as her father. "If I'd told you Lord Ranelaw came to Surrey, you'd have found some excuse to stay in London."

"At least you admit the scheme."

Cassie had the grace to look shamefaced. "It wasn't a scheme."

Antonia arched a skeptical eyebrow. "No?"

Cassie fiddled with the pink ribbon at her bodice. "Lord Ranelaw asked if I attended the Scanlan ball. I told him we left Town for two weeks. It's not my fault he followed us."

Us? Oh, no. Not us. The disreputable Ranelaw pursued her charge, and if Antonia wasn't careful, he'd get her. "Cassie, he's handsome, he's charming, his attentions would turn any lady's head. Even a lady as sensible as you."

Cassie still looked mulish. "You're treating me like a child."

Antonia shook her head. "No. But I more than most know what you risk."

"His intentions are honorable."

Antonia's heart sank. She told herself it was because she hadn't realized things reached such a pass. Honesty compelled her to admit some of her dismay stemmed from wanting Lord Ranelaw herself, for all the good it did her. "Has he said so?"

The girl shrugged and began to brush her hair with the heavy silver hairbrush her father had given her for her twelfth birthday. Cassie was good-hearted and far from stupid, but Antonia couldn't forget she was also impossibly spoiled. If this became an issue of her will versus Cassie's, trouble loomed. For years, she'd been Cassie's confidante and companion. Most of that time, the task had been ridiculously easy.

Clearly Antonia made up for that now.

"Cassie?" When the girl didn't answer, she deliberately kept her voice level. "Has Lord Ranelaw mentioned marriage?"

During the fraught pause, her mind flooded with mad, passionate memories of Ranelaw kissing her. Once she'd been green enough to believe a man who kissed a woman so desperately could have no interest in other conquests.

Eventually Cassie reluctantly shook her head. "No, it's too early." She continued in a strident tone as if convincing herself as much as Antonia. "He's behaving as a respectable man does when courting a woman. If his intentions aren't aboveboard, he wouldn't be so public."

"Cassie, he's too old for you. He's too experienced. Even if he plans marriage, I can't see you happy with him. A man like that doesn't know the meaning of fidelity."

The girl tossed her head. "Don't you think I'm woman enough to keep him in line?"

"Cassie . " Antonia paused, at a loss for words. The problem was she did mean that. She wasn't sure anyone was woman enough to curb Ranelaw's roving eye. She fell back on something she'd said before. "I don't want you hurt."

Her response angered rather than mollified Cassie. "Just because you lost your head over a pretty face doesn't mean every other girl will."

Antonia stiffened, wounded by Cassie's sneering tone. Cassie had never been spiteful, but she'd noticed changes in the girl in London. Such general admiration would overset anyone. Until now, Antonia hadn't realized how far the damage extended.

She told herself Cassie didn't mean to be hurtful. But as she read the angry defiance in the girl's face, she couldn't quite convince herself that was true.

"I know you think I'm overly careful, but . "

"I'm not a wide-eyed innocent," she said resentfully then flounced away. "I know more than you think."

Antonia felt a twinge of guilty fear. Was her charge aware of the prickly sexual awareness between her and Ranelaw?

Surely not. In public, Ranelaw was careful to conceal his interest in Antonia.

Dear God, save her from this nonsense. There was nothing to conceal. His interest wasn't real.

"Cassie . " she began just as Bella bustled in. Again surely it was her guilty conscience and nothing concrete that Bella's glance seemed sharper than usual.

"Are you ready to dress, miss?" The maid immediately picked up the troubled atmosphere, and her gaze darted between Antonia and Cassie with avid curiosity.

"Yes. I'll wear the lavender silk." Antonia heard relief in Cassie's answer.

Antonia smothered a sigh. It was best she stopped. Any more and she risked their first serious quarrel. Over a rogue like Lord Ranelaw.

Without looking at Cassie, Antonia stood and straightened her skirts. The jibe about youthful foolishness had hurt. It hurt even more that Cassie seemed unaware how cutting her comment was.

"I'll see you downstairs, Cassie," she said quietly.

"As you wish," Cassie said sullenly. Then with a spark of spirit, "I believe Lord Ranelaw is placed next to me for dinner. He asked Lady Humphrey specially."

Antonia didn't answer. What point nagging Cassie right now? For the thousandth time since she'd met him, she consigned Lord Ranelaw to Hades.

After a restless night plagued with anxiety about Cassie and Ranelaw's open flirtation, Antonia rose early. Soon she wouldn't need a disguise to play the hag. When she checked the mirror, she looked so tired and distraught, it was a relief to hide behind her spectacles.

The sun wasn't long over the horizon. The guests wouldn't stir for hours. This was her favorite time of day here. Before she left the house, she peeked into the room beside hers to see Cassie asleep and looking the perfect angel she certainly wasn't when awake.

In the stables, the grooms had her usual chestnut gelding saddled. The horse greeted her with a soft whicker.

"Hello, my beauty," she murmured, extending her palm with a piece of apple.

She'd eaten the rest of the apple on her walk across the dew-laden grass. The world seemed made anew. Her turmoil receded. Evil couldn't prevail on this pristine morning.

She wasn't fool enough to believe her contentment would endure, but carefree moments were so rare lately, she snatched at this one. Carefree moments when she was alone and unobserved. That was one reason she treasured these rides in the quiet dawn. At first she'd expected the more vigorous gentlemen to be about, but the lure of the port bottle and the smoking room past midnight proved too strong.

Her first two mornings, she'd dutifully asked a groom to accompany her. Now she knew the estate, she rode alone. For one brief hour, she tasted freedom. Fleetingly she became Lady Antonia Hilliard, not dour Miss Smith.

Once out of sight of the house, she slid her spectacles off and slipped them into her pocket. Immediately colors sprang to life. Drawing a deep breath of fragrant air, she urged her horse to a canter down a wide forest path.

She should have guessed her contentment would prove short-lived.

She rounded a bend and before her, on a large gray, waited the devil who blighted her existence. He was dressed for the country in a buff brown jacket, breeches, and black boots polished to a mirror shine. Her belly knotting with a queasy mixture of irritation and excitement, she drew her horse to a stop a few yards away.

"Miss Smith, what a delightful surprise." That mocking smile twisted his mouth as he doffed his hat. Sunlight glanced across his gilded hair, vied with the glitter in his black eyes.

His eyes devouring her as if she was the woman he wanted, he replaced his hat at a jaunty angle. Resentfully she stared back.

He'd spent all last night making up to Cassie, through dinner and later during an uproarious game of forfeits that had caused general notice. Clearly Antonia's cautionary lecture had only incited Cassie to demonstrate she wouldn't be guided on Ranelaw's courtship. Antonia should have left well enough alone.

Of course jealousy stabbed her when she witnessed him flirting with her cousin. She wouldn't be human if it didn't. But her overriding reaction was concern for Cassie's happiness. At her deepest level, Antonia was convinced Ranelaw meant the girl no good.

"Lord Ranelaw," she said in a repressive voice. "You followed me."

"Of course I didn't follow you," her nemesis said calmly.

She realized she wasn't wearing her spectacles. Her heart pounding with trepidation, she fumbled in her pocket. "Don't treat me like a fool."

He watched her with that same predatory glint she'd seen in London. A few days in Surrey had made her forget its devastating effect. "I didn't follow you for the good reason that I knew exactly where you'd be. One of the grooms and I had a long chat about your morning rides yesterday. To his profit."

He made his scheming sound like the actions of a reasonable man. "Surely bribing servants becomes tiresome," she said acidly, still trying to find her glasses.

"The rewards are worth it." He focused on what she did. "It's too late to worry about hiding from me, Antonia."

Just like that, she was back in his arms in London. It was as immediate as if he kissed her with his hot, voracious mouth and pressed her against his long, lean body. She froze with humiliation, and a prickling tide of color flooded her face.

"Why are you here, Ranelaw?" she said in a hard tone, as she withdrew her trembling hand from her pocket and curled it around the reins. The chestnut sensed her disquiet and shifted with an uneasy snort.

Ranelaw looked around, his face alight with amusement. "It's a lovely morning for a ride."

She noticed the emphasis he placed on ride but ignored it. As so often when she was with Ranelaw, uncertainty receded under anger. Neither was as potent as her stirring physical awareness of his presence. "Stop playing games."

His black gaze centered on her, bright with curiosity and a sensual appreciation that made her pulses race. Since yesterday the bruising had faded but it still added a rakish danger to his features. She didn't want to respond to his manifold attractions, but she suspected while she lived, she had no choice.

"You're playing games too, Antonia."

"No . " she breathed in horror before she realized he couldn't have discovered her identity. He knew more than he should, mostly through her fault. But he couldn't know everything.

"What else would you call this masquerade? You're a beautiful young woman, yet you dress like a damned grandmother."

He guided his horse closer, so her chestnut sidled nervously once more. "You act like you've never known a man's touch, yet you come alive in my arms. Who's been kissing you, Antonia? I'll swear I'm not the first man who has."

She feared her face would go up in flames, it was so hot. Somewhere she found the will to fight. So far, he'd had everything his own way. "It was a natural reaction to your tawdry skills."

He laughed softly. "Oh, cruel."

"I want you to go back to London." She knew she wasted her time. She'd told him to go away before and it hadn't done her a morsel of good.

"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride." His tone turned silky. "I must say your charge is considerably nicer to me than you are. She positively glowed when she saw me yesterday. A man has his vanity. Perhaps I'm better devoting my attentions to Miss Demarest than her duenna."

Her hands bunched on the reins, causing the horse to shift again. "Don't threaten me, Ranelaw."

He still smiled lazily at her. "Or you'll what? Biff me with the poker again?"

"Not if I've got a pistol handy."

His lids lowered so his dark lashes shadowed his cheekbones. "You know, for another kiss, the risk might be worth it."

"Touch me again and I'll kill you," she said in a low, throbbing voice. She was angry at him and angry at herself that no matter how she tried, she couldn't wean herself of this perilous weakness for him.

Devil take him, he laughed once more. "Just how do you intend to fulfill that threat, my sweet? I don't recall you fighting too hard last time."

To her bitter shame, he spoke the truth. She could see he awaited some coy denial that only confirmed her susceptibility. Well, he'd wait until Hades froze over.

"You're spoiling my morning, Lord Ranelaw," she said coldly, and spurred her horse into a bounding gallop along the path. She bent low over her mount's neck and let the wind whip away her scalding tears.

Chapter Seven.

His hunting instincts alert, Ranelaw watched Miss Smith career headlong through the trees. The surprisingly expensive and diabolically becoming riding habit fitted more closely than her usual clothing. He had no trouble discerning the magnificent body his hands had explored-too briefly-during those turbulent moments last week.

Since that revelatory evening in her bedroom, she'd gathered her defenses. Perhaps he should have fucked her. She wouldn't be so insolent then.

He mightn't be quite so frustrated either.

She'd left him wanting her, and somehow wanting her made every other woman unappealing. They all seemed absurdly . uncomplicated and docile.

Whereas with each meeting, Miss Smith proved more interesting. Who would guess the dowdy chaperone was a spectacular horsewoman? The chestnut was temperamental, yet she controlled the animal with hardly a thought, and she'd galloped away as sure in the saddle as a young Amazon.

He should let the baggage go. He'd made his point, asserted his advantage, confirmed the fragility of her barriers against him. Strategy insisted he leave her to stew on his intentions. Strategy insisted he return to Pelham Place and further last night's progress with the Demarest chit. She'd been considerably more forthcoming than in London. If he pressed his interest, he'd have her on her back before she left Surrey. Perhaps even by week's end.