The second exclaimed with sn.o.bbish delight, "I quite agree. G.o.d knows what the gentlemen see in her. Why, I do believe it's all a vast joke, that they're all secretly laughing at her!"

Oh, G.o.d. In but a heartbeat, Arabella's pleasure in the evening fled. Her happiness shattered, like a piece of fine china dashed to the floor. She cringed, sick to the dregs of her soul. She couldn't help but remember what Aunt Grace had said only this afternoon about the ton being fickle.

The toast of the Season indeed. Sweet Lord, she might well end up the laughingstock of the year.

She couldn't bear one more second. Only half-aware, she arose. Blindly she walked, her steps quickening. Then suddenly she was almost running, tearing along the path, twisting and turning.

When at last she stopped, her heart was pounding. The lights of the square were far behind her; her flight had taken her into a deeply wooded area. She glanced about in dismay, and no little amount of fear. She had strayed far from the rest of the party. She'd heard tales of thieves lying in wait for unwary females, and had no doubt they were true. Oh, why had she come so far!

Footsteps crunched on the gravel nearby. Her eyes darted into the shadows. She clutched her skirts and prepared to flee. All at once strong fingers whirled her about. A dark, featureless shadow loomed before her. Frightened almost beyond her wits, she opened her mouth.

"For pity's sake," a voice intoned irritably, "don't scream. It's only me."

The man restraining her stripped off his mask. Her breath caught on a gasp. Arabella looked up. Set between sharp green eyes was a long, elegant nose.

"Perhaps the very reason I should!"

His eyes flickered over her. "What are you doing out here? There are thieves and footpads - "

"And rakes and scoundrels?" she queried archly.

He made no response, but his lips thinned.

"You're following me, aren't you? How the devil did you recognize me?"

"My dear Arabella," he drawled, "masquerade or no, there is nothing about you that does not remain" - his gaze flickered over her, lingering on her hair - "distinctive."

Arabella was stung. She knew what he meant. Her height. Her hair. Justin Sterling, with his perfect, impeccable looks, had no idea what she had endured her entire life! He couldn't possibly know how it hurt to be jeered at, laughed at, sneered at.

She felt like a freak in a circus sideshow - and never more so than now.

Her mantilla had slipped to her shoulders. She dragged it up over the froth of curls pinned at her crown.

Angry, bitter hurt crowded her throat. "Must you insult me?" she cried.

"G.o.d's blood, I meant no insult."

"Oh, but you did! I - I don't need to be reminded of my shortcomings. I know my hair is

quite unattractive, but there's nothing I can -""Unattractive! Why, quite the contrary." Indeed, it was a startling admission*or wasit? Justin wasn't quite sure. He knew only that he had come here tonight hoping to encounter her.She had grown into a woman of wit and intelligence - a woman fully capable of a wicked repartee that rivaled his own. Indeed, their first meeting, as well as the second, had inspired a rather reluctantadmiration. Was it any wonder he looked forward to the next?"It's*well, it's what makes you...you." Lord, but he sounded lame.

He, the master of seduction, the man who had wooed and won his way into the boudoirs of more ladies than he could even remember, found himself at a startling loss for words. Where was his usual glib flattery, the practiced ease which was second nature?

Not that it came as any surprise, but she appeared singularly unimpressed. Eyes flashing, she raised her chin. "Let me pa.s.s," she said calmly.

"Not yet. We have much to discuss."

"We have nothing to discuss."

"Don't we? If you recall, we have some unfinished business, you and I."

"What business?" she asked sharply."Do you forget so soon? We neglected to settle last night on the price of my silence about your cher amour Walter."

"He is not my love and you know it."

He merely gave her a mundane smile in return.

"You've decided to plague me, haven't you, Justin? It's revenge for the

prank I played on you as a child."

"My, but you're in a mood, aren't you?"

Arabella said nothing. She lowered her head. He had moved close. Less than the span of her palm was

all that lay between them.

"Arabella?" he queried.

His nearness was disarming. He was disturbingly, distractingly masculine. She felt helpless against him!

All at once she couldn't think. Her heart was clamoring so that she could scarcely breathe.

"Not having the vapors, are you?"

The amus.e.m.e.nt in his tone brought her head up in a flash. "I never have the vapors," she

stressed.

"No, I don't suppose you do." He eyed her. His tone had turned almost grim.

"Why do you look at me as you do?" he asked curtly.

"How do I look at you?"

"As if you would do me harm. When you look at me, I see nothing but contempt." There was an edge in his tone that did not bode well.

"Our dislike is mutual," she stated bluntly. "There is no need to pretend

otherwise."

His eyes narrowed. "You haven't answered my question."

"Nor will I."

"Why not? Are you a coward, Arabella?"

"I am not!"

"Then why do you refuse to answer?"

"And why can't you leave me be? If anyone saw you come after me -"

"And what if they did?"

Arabella pressed her lips together. As if there were any need to ask! He was baiting her, she knew. But if

he wanted to hear her say it, then so be it."Because I've no wish for my name to be bandied about with yours."His eyes grew frosty. "Indeed?""Indeed.""Why, Arabella?""Simply because you are who you are! You are what you are!""You refer to my reputation."Later she would wonder what possessed her, that she dared to challenge him so. "Yes. I despise men like you."

"Arabella, I do believe you cast aspersions on my character."

"Character?" She cast him a withering look. "You have none!"

"Oh, come. Am I not a man of eminent distinction?"

Now he mocked not only her, but himself. "Perchance a man of eminent delusion," she

muttered.

He tipped his head to the side. "My, but this grows interesting. Truly, what do you think of

me?"

"I think you would rather not know."

"Oh, come. Out with it."

Arabella glared. "You are a rake."

The merest lift of his brows. "What? That's all? That's why you dislike

me?"

Another glare, more heated than the first.

"That's what I thought. Please, pray continue."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know what you are, Justin Sterling."

"You profess to know a very great deal about me. What, precisely, do you know?"

"All I need to know!"

"Such as?"

"You are a profligate," she said.

"And?"

"A cad. A Corinthian."

A slow smile edged across his lips. "Come, surely you can do better than that."

"Do you think I haven't heard tales of your escapades with your lady friends?"

"Clearly that distresses you."

Oh, but he was outrageous! Totally unrepentant. Arabella was reminded of poor Emmaline Winslow

sobbing her heart out. How could he be so callous? "You are a rogue. A bounder."

He quirked a well-shaped brow. "I've never given my attention to any woman who did not want it."