"But I don't understand. You are educated and literate and, quite frankly, richer than most of the dukes I know. How could you have ever been a common day laborer?"

Sliding back against the sheets, he plumped his pillow and folded an arm beneath his head. "I said I was a laborer; I never said anything about being common."

Moving to lie beside him, she leaned her forearms on his chest. "No, you are markedly uncommon. So tell me, how did a man like you end up working on the London docks?"

"It's a long story." One he had no intention of sharing with her. "Suffice it to say, my brush with poverty was not of my own choosing, nor was it pleasant. But the experience was quite enlightening. I learned more about survival and cunning and good business practices than any gentleman's education could ever have taught me. In a few short years, I acquired all the skills I needed in order to prosper, quite beyond my wildest dreams it would seem, since I am indeed richer than most dukes."

In obvious contemplation of his statement, Julianna traced a meandering circle across his chest. When her fingertips rubbed across one flat male nipple, he reached out and caught her hand. "You'd best stop that unless you're ready for another tumble."

Her gaze flashed upward. "I will be. In a little while. First I want to know more."

"More what?"

"About you. Where did you grow up? In London?"

"No. West Riding."

At least that's where he'd passed his early years, then later his summers and vacations when he wasn't away studying at Harrow at his father's insistence. Nevertheless, West Riding and his mother had always meant home, a retreat from a world that never let him forget his illegitimate origins.

He supposed, in retrospect, he should thank his father for sending him off to school instead of letting him be educated by a tutor, as his mother had wanted. Those brutal years away had taught him to be tough, taught him to survive by using his fists, and more important, his wits. Another set of skills that had served him well, quite literally saving his life during those early days in London.

"So far north," she murmured. "What made you move to the city? Or were you the restless sort and longed to leave the country behind?"

Reaching out, he caught a strand of her silky, dark hair and stroked it between his fingers. "It wasn't a matter of wishing to leave. I still love that land, the windswept hills and dales, the sturdy houses and long, stone walls. But ultimately there was nothing for me there. I'm no farmer content to raise sheep, and I hadn't the choice of living the life of an aristocrat."

"So you left home intending to be a financier?"

His lips curved in a pensive smile. "Actually, I intended to study the law."

"Really?"

"You needn't look so astonished. Is it so impossible to believe I once thought to become a barrister?"

"No," she admitted after a considered pause. "You have the intelligence for it, and the clever tongue. But somehow the idea of you in robes and a powdered wig, standing obeisant before a judge-well, it just doesn't suit you."

"I suppose I'm not really the obeisant type, am I?" he conceded.

She shook her head. "You're far too independent for such constraints. The law would have suffocated the life out of you."

He hid his surprise at her perceptive answer, knowing she was exactly right. He loved what he did. Loved the art and, yes, the risk, of wielding vast sums of money, positioning and leveraging his funds in order to outsmart the market and turn investment into profit.

After earning his first million pounds, his business had turned into a game-a very real, very serious game, but a form of entertainment nonetheless. There was nothing quite like seeking out the next miracle deal to get his blood flowing, to raise his excitement level to an almost fevered pitch.

Except for Julianna, of course. She got his blood flowing and his excitement level near peak with no more than a glimpse or a whisper.

Cupping her cheek, he drew her forward for a kiss, fresh arousal turning him aching and hard.

She kissed him back, then leaned away. "So why didn't you pursue it?"

"Pursue what?"

"The law?"

On a sigh, he decided he could indulge her curiosity for a little while longer.

"The simplest reason of all, my dear. I ran out of money."

"But was there no one to help you? What of your parents?"

"My parents were dead." As for the cause, he didn't want to dwell on that, especially not in his mother's case.

"And you were left with nothing?"

A muscle twitched near his eye. "No, nothing."

When he saw her expression, he moved to correct her misassumptions. "But don't think harshly of them, since it was not a situation of their own making. My father's estate was heavily entailed."

"He was a peer?"

"A lord, yes."

"What of your mother?"

"A clergyman's daughter who had a bad fall from grace, though in my estimation she was never anything but an angel."

A dozen questions shone in Julianna's expressive gaze. "And afterward you went to work on the docks?"

"Since I lacked the proper references, there was little other employment to be had."

She caught the edge of her lower lip between her teeth, obviously longing to press for further details.

Before she could, he circumvented her. "To make a long story brief, I worked as a laborer until it came to the notice of the foreman that I was making extra money reading and writing letters for the men. Once the boss found out that I could not only read and write but do ciphers as quickly as any man he'd ever seen, he took me on as a clerk. From that moment forward, I set myself to learning everything about business that I could."

"What about the company? Is it still in business?"

"Yes, though it's under new management now. I bought out my old employer's shares years ago, then sold them again for a tidy profit." Reaching out, he enfolded her in his arms. "Now I have a question for you."

"For me?"

"Hmm. I want to know whether you would rather be on top"-holding her close, he rolled her over-"or on the bottom?"

Growling playfully, he crushed his lips to hers. Laughing, she kissed him back while she gave her response.

Chapter Ten.

JULIANNA PLUCKED A copy of Lord Byron's English Bards and Scotch Reviewers off the bookstore shelf and leafed through a few pages before pausing to read a stanza or two. She smiled and thought of Rafe, wondering what he would make of her selection. Likely he would scold and tease her, then take her in his arms and befuddle her with kisses until she had forgotten all about Byron and his poems.

Returning the volume to its shelf, she moved on. After all, she mused, Baron Byron could be a bit too controversial at times for her tastes. Robert Burns might suit her mood better, mellow and dreamy. Thinking of Rafe seemed to make her that way no matter how she fought against it.

Selecting another book at random, she forced her mind to the task at hand.

Pernicious Vices and the Road to Eternal Damnation: A Treatise on Sin in Our Times by Reverend Goods-body. Julianna jumped slightly in astonishment as she read the title. Pernicious vices, indeed! Hastily she shoved the book back onto the shelf and walked onward.

Where is soothing Robbie Burns when a lady needs him? she wondered. And why, after seeing the reverend's hellfire-and-brimstone tome, had she started thinking again of Rafe?

Was what she and Rafe did together a sin?

No, she assured herself, despite the admittedly unusual origin of our liaison, it is not wrong. Whatever anyone else might think, I have no need for guilt.

Do I?

Refusing to dwell further on the subject, Julianna strolled out into the main room, glad to find Maris safely occupied in front of a long wall of books.

As they did upon occasion, she and Maris had stopped today at Hatchard's book shop to peruse the latest inventory. Cousin Henrietta was absent, having decided instead to visit a friend in Kew. Laughingly, Henrietta had remarked that she'd been so busy of late she scarcely had time to think, what with all of Maris's callers and social engagements. An afternoon of quiet, she had said, was exactly what her old bones required.

Cousin Henrietta was right about Maris, Julianna thought. Her sister was in great demand these days with a regular circle of friends and several attentive gentleman callers, including Viscount Middleton. Lord Doughton, a young man with a love of art and music, frequently stopped by the Allerton House drawing room, as did the handsome, stalwart Major Waring.

Julianna wasn't certain, but she wondered if her sister might be developing a special affection for the major. Maris's eyes seemed to sparkle more brightly and she laughed more often whenever he paid a call. And she was always pleased to accompany him on a stroll or for a ride in the park, returning in a sunny, exuberant humor.

But her young sister was having far too much fun flitting from ball to rout to soiree to worry about anything more serious than what to wear on her next outing and which gentleman she would choose to escort her into supper at midnight. Let her be busy, Julianna decided, and enjoy the rest of the Season.

Yet Maris wasn't the only one with an abundance of obligations these days. Julianna's own schedule was inordinately full-though for completely different reasons than her sister's. Juggled into the mix of parties and teas and balls were her afternoon assignations with Rafe.

With the Season in full swing, meeting him had become more complicated, and she'd taken to having to switch the occasional day. She'd even met him a couple of times in the morning, getting only a few hours' sleep before sneaking over to the house in Queens Square while most of her acquaintance were still fast asleep.

Luckily, Rafe didn't seem to mind the adjustments, or if he did, he refrained from saying. She knew he understood that her time was no longer completely her own. She had a duty to her sister and needed, more than ever before, to be careful when and where she went, and by whom she was seen.

Neither of them ever discussed their initial bargain, nor mentioned the debt still owed to him. Four months from now and her obligation would be met. She would be free to walk away and never see Rafe again, if that is what she wished.

But do I wish it? she pondered.

Footfalls intruded upon her thoughts. Glancing up, she watched the Earl of Summersfield stride toward her, his patrician face alive with pleasure.

"Lady Hawthorne, well met! I did not expect to find you here today. What a happy occasion this is!"

Executing an elegant bow, he straightened, displaying a set of straight, white teeth in an irresistibly cheerful smile.

She smiled back, finding it quite impossible to do otherwise. Not that she had any reason to resist-Lord Summersfield was a very amiable man. He was also a very persistent man, never seeming to fatigue in his quest to convince her to accept his hand in marriage. He had asked so often, and she had refused so frequently, that the ritual had by now taken on the semblance of a game.

She worried about hurting him, but he assured her each and every time she refused his suit that he was in no way wounded, content to be her friend until she decided to let him become more.

Secretly, she suspected he was not truly serious, wondering whether he would be more alarmed than thrilled if she ever did decide to accept. But therein lay the perfection of the game, since she assumed both of them knew he was safe from any real risk. As much as she liked and respected him, she felt no more than mild affection for him and would never consent to be his wife.

"My lord, always a pleasure, though I would have expected to find you out-of-doors on such a gloriously sunny day as this."

"When radiance such as yours can be discovered inside, why would any man venture out?"

"Please, my lord, what have I told you about such unnecessary flattery? You must stop this instant." She softened her command with a smile.

He laid a gloved hand across the breast of his finely tailored Clarence blue coat. "But that would be censorship of the grossest kind, and to that I must object. When beauty appears in my path, I must stop and sing out its praises. And you, dear lady, are very definitely worth the effort of a song. An entire chorus, in fact, you are looking so markedly lovely. I assure you, my feelings cannot be contained."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Enough. You will make my head swell to three times its normal size and then explode. Only think of the dreadful mess that would make."

The earl barked out a laugh, drawing the attention of several nearby patrons.

"See, you are getting us in trouble," Julianna said.

"Would that I could convince you to let me get you into more. Care to run away? Gretna is only a coach ride distant."

"What I care to do is choose a book. Now tell me, my lord, which authors have you come here seeking?"

At the shout of a man's laugh, Rafe turned his head, the book he held suddenly forgotten in his hand.

Julianna.

There she stood, only a few feet across the room, luminous in a day dress the color of young green apples. Lush and dark as sable, her beautiful hair was neatly tucked beneath a very fetching hat, a pert white feather bobbing as she nodded her head.

His heart gave a single hard thump, blood quickening the way it always did when the two of them were in the same room. So powerfully attuned to her, Rafe didn't know how he could have walked into the shop and not known instantly that she was there as well.

Smiling merrily, she laughed at some remark made by the man at her side.

Who is he?

Rafe clenched his teeth as he watched. Obviously the man was known to her, their demeanor speaking of long acquaintance and an intimacy he did not like.

No, he didn't like it one jot.

Barely watching what he did, Rafe shoved the book he held back onto a shelf. He'd taken two steps forward before he stopped, remembering where he was and why he could not approach her. Here in this bookstore, he and Julianna were not supposed to have met. In public, he had promised her they would always behave as strangers. Fists tight at his sides, he swallowed a growl and fought the need to stride forward and whisk her away.

The other man wanted her, of that he had no doubt. Did Julianna realize it? Did she know she was the object of her companion's desire, all the leather-bound tomes surrounding them nothing more than a convenient distraction?

The aristocrat extended his arm. A muscle twitched near Rafe's eye as Julianna laughed again and set her hand on his sleeve.

Rafe must have made a noise, he realized, because just then she turned and looked straight at him. Her pretty eyes widened, an expression of surprise and, if he was not mistaken, undisguised pleasure warming her velvety gaze. In the next instant, though, the expression faded, replaced by clear concern.

Raising a single eyebrow, he gave her a nearly imperceptible nod.

From across the room, Julianna stared, awareness sizzling inside her.

Rafe is here, she thought. Oh my!