She proceeded to pour another. His brows climbed higher still. "Well, well," he

murmured. "Miss Vicar has a vice."

Her eyes blazed. She whirled on him. "Don't you dare make light of me, Justin Sterling!"

He held up both hands in a gesture of defeat. "I wouldn't dream of depriving you of your

pleasure."

She moved to the seat beneath the window, staring out into the night. Justin watched her, silently standing vigil. Her mood was odd. He felt just as odd, out of step somehow. He sensed her hurt, yet he also sensed he was not the one to ease it. His insides twisted. G.o.d, he thought blackly, who was he to offer advice? Besides, she wouldn't welcome it. Not from him. But he wasn't about to leave her alone, either.

"Justin?"

"Yes?"

She held out the crystal gla.s.s. "Will you fetch me another?"

Justin glanced at the decanter. Ye G.o.ds, it was half-empty! And Sebastian would blame him*

"I think you've had enough, Arabella."

"Fine," she said testily. "I'll do it myself."

Hands on his hips, he surveyed her. Her gait, he noted, was none too steady.

He positioned himself before the table. When she attempted to step around him, he reached for her gla.s.s,

only to find she was determined not to give it up. He ended up having to wrest it from her grip."I want another." Her lip thrust out in petulance."No."She glared her defiance. "Why not?""Ladies don't drink," he said sternly."You drink," she accused. "You went to the Barrington gala when you were foxed."

"I'm a man."

She snorted. "So?"

"It's different for men."

"Why is it men can do what women cannot?" she demanded. "It's patently

unfair that the rules are so different for men and women! Julianna and I came to that very conclusion on

our way downstairs."

Julianna. He almost groaned. For all her fragile looks, his sister was sometimes rather stubbornly outspoken and opinionated.

She blinked up at him, attempting to focus, he suspected. Suddenly she lifted a hand. "Your mouth is crooked," she announced with a cackling laugh. "You're not the handsomest man in England after all, are you, Justin?"

At her touch, Justin froze. The temptation was strong to remove her hand immediately. He didn't allow anyone to touch his face. Ever. He never had*He willed away the impulse.

"Sweetheart, that's not my mouth. That's my nose."

Her fingertips fell away. She scowled fiercely. "Sweetheart? Why do you call me that? You called me that before, you know. Do you call all your women sweetheart? Well, I'm not one of your doxies, Justin Sterling."

No, he thought. Dear G.o.d, never that.

She was swaying unsteadily. He caught her by the waist.

"Let me be," she protested loudly. "I am not a helpless female. I've never

swooned in my life. Indeed, I have only the utmost disdain for women who swoon."

She wasn't swooning. She was staggering. Arabella, the vicar's daughter, was a drunk!

And, it seemed, a rather belligerent one, at that. A dry smile touched his mouth. For the first time, he began to appreciate what Sebastian had put up with many times over the years taking care of him.

Her gaze had fixed on the door behind him. "Where's the rest of the party?"

"They're in the music room." The party was still in full swing. Someone was

playing the pianoforte. He guessed it would go on for at least several hours. "I'm afraid,

Arabella, you're in no condition for a party."

She surprised him by agreeing. "No. I suppose not." Her eyes climbed to his face.

"Is this what it feels like to be foxed?"

"Yes, sweetheart," he said softly. "And I think it's time you went to your room. Are you on the third floor?"

She nodded. "Across the hall from your sister." Her voice had begun to grow fuzzy.

"We have to pa.s.s the music room. We must be quiet, all right?"

A shadow pa.s.sed over her features. He sensed her sudden change of mood, her uncertainty.

An arm about her slender waist, he led her outside into the corridor. She stumbled along, close to his side. The stairs might prove problematic; he was half-afraid she'd stumble and turn an ankle.

Swiftly, he slipped an arm beneath her knees and swung her high into his arms.

She gasped and clutched at him for all she was worth. "Put me down. You can't possibly carry me all the way."

"Rubbish." She had a stranglehold on his neck. "I do believe I'm in danger

of being strangled, though."

"Oh," she said weakly. Her grip on his neck loosened slightly.

He carried her up the stairs with ease. At the door of her room, he paused, feeling for the door handle.

"Justin, wait."

"What is it?"

She turned her face into his neck. "My maid," she said in a small voice. "Annie.

She'll be waiting for me. I - I don't want her to see me like this."

"I'll take care of it."

Indeed, her maid rose from the chair in the corner when the door opened. "Your mistress is

indisposed," Justin said smoothly, "but you may go. Someone will be up shortly to tend her."

The maid bobbed a curtsy and left.

Candlelight flickered from the wall sconces. Justin made his way across the room and set her on her feet near the bedside. She sat, one hand feeling for the bed behind her.

On her features was an expression of utter consternation. Justin sat down beside her. "What is

it?" he asked quickly. "What's wrong?"

She raised her face to his. Her skin was pasty white. "Don't tell anyone, Justin. Please don't tell what McElroy did. That horrible wager*" She shuddered.

"Everyone will laugh."

"Arabella," he said helplessly, "I know how you must feel."

"You don't!" she burst out. "How could you? No one has ever laughed at you. You - you're too perfect!"

She covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders heaved. She began to weep.

Justin was shocked. His arms closed around her. "Arabella, what nonsense is this? You're

the pink of the ton. No one laughs at you -""They do!" she cried. "They always have. They always will! I've heardpeople talking. Whispering. All my life. It's not enough to have this - this horrid red hair that Icannot hide. It's not enough I'm as tall as most men! It's always been like that,always. Oh, I've pretended not to notice, not to care that people stare as if- as if I'm a freak! And now everyone gossips and calls me by that horrible name - The Unattainable." Shegave a dry, broken sob that stabbed his chest like the point of a sword."All my life I just wanted to be like everybody else - look like everyone else. Do you know what it's like to gaze into the mirror and cringe? To hate what you see and know there's nothing you can ever, ever do to change it?"

The muscles in his throat locked tight. G.o.d help him, he did. But not in the same way as Arabella*

His arms tightened. Her sobs scalded his heart.

It was the whisky, he knew, that opened the flood tide of emotion inside her, combined with the shock of McElroy's a.s.sault, and his revelation about the wager. h.e.l.l, it was all of it!