"I find you charming today."

She took a step back and lifted her chin. "It will wear off quickly."

He took another step. There was a languorous expression in his eyes. She might have noticed the amber hues in them, but only because she was perceptive by nature. Drat it all. Why couldn't he have a long nose, pointed chin, and no muscles at all? And why after all these years did she find him irresistible?

He advanced again. Now his boots were inches away from the toes of her slippers.

She took two more steps back and b.u.mped against the mattress.

He closed his big hand around the bedpost and his gaze flickered briefly to her decolletage. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt heavier, and her nipples tightened. The sound of his breath was faster and a little rough. She was drawn to his full lower lip. Something inside of her gave way to desire. She wanted to be closer to him.

As if he could read her thoughts, he closed the scant distance between them. He angled his head and looked into her eyes. "Is this surrender?"

The sensual haze cleared, and she glared at him. Outrageous man. How dare he look at her bosom? Angeline straightened her spine. "Do you think I am intimidated by you?"

"Not at all." He wagged his brows. "Those two steps back were merely dance steps. Am I correct?"

She closed the distance between them in an effort to a.s.sert herself, but she realized the disadvantage immediately. While she was tall for a lady, he was easily half a head taller and much too close. He filled her senses and belatedly she realized she'd invited a rake into a bedchamber. Had she lost her wits?

"You are a shameless libertine."

His chest shook with laughter. "Not entirely shameless. I've had one or two guilt-ridden moments, but fortunately they dissipated quickly." His gaze slid over her body. "I suspect you've been told many times how very beautiful you are."

She knew it was a rake's trick to murmur sweet words and tempt a lady to loosen her morals, but he looked at her with intent. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and that drew his attention. She'd inadvertently signaled she wanted a kiss, but of course she would rather kiss a snake.

Tension vibrated between them. Now was the moment to step away, but she stood rooted to the spot as if her feet were mired in a bog.

He reached for her nape, just as the knocker downstairs rapped repeatedly.

She gasped, and they sprang apart.

Rake that he was, he winked and said, "Saved by the knocker."

Her face flamed. "Nothing happened," she said under her breath as he shut the bedchamber door.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"You did not-"

He put his finger over her lips.

She pulled his hand away. "If Agnes were to walk by, she would conclude we are having an a.s.signation," she said under her breath.

"I'm amenable if you are." His eyes were full of merriment. "When shall we begin?"

"When Satan ice skates in Hades," she muttered. Oh, G.o.d, she was so embarra.s.sed. How could she fall under Colin's spell of all people? They had always despised each other. Her face was still hot with mortification.

The marquess's voice echoed in the great hall. "Where the devil are they?"

"That is your father," Angeline said under her breath. "We must hurry."

"Calm yourself first or they'll know something is afoot."

She fanned herself with her hand to cool her face. "Do not be ridiculous. Nothing happened." But what would have happened if not for the timely interruption? Nothing, absolutely nothing would have transpired. The last thing she needed was to let another rake sully what was left of her tattered reputation.

But he was not just another rake. He was a friend of her family. That definitely put a damper on matters. Cold water would do as well, but there was none at hand.

She inhaled and exhaled on a shaky breath.

"Ready?" he said, offering his arm.

She took it. "There will not be a repeat performance."

"Of what? Nothing happened."

"Exactly," she said, lifting her chin.

He led her down the stairs and spoke overly loud about the sorry state of the carpets and the need for more internal shutters. Clearly it was a performance. He was as cool as an ice at Gunthers.

"Father, Wycoff, this is a surprise," he said. "Are you here to give us advice about our renovation efforts?"

The marquess narrowed his eyes. "We came to ensure the pair of you haven't engaged in fisticuffs."

Angeline released Colin's arm and forced herself to smile. "Nothing of the kind," she said. "We are taking the divide-and-conquer approach."

Wycoff frowned. "What?"

Chadwick leaned toward him. "I think she means they're working in separate rooms. It's for the best. Less chance of blood being shed this way."

Colin clasped his hands behind his back. "We made progress today."

While Colin spoke to his father, Angeline approached her father with more than a little trepidation. "Did you enjoy shooting today, Papa?"

"I did, Daughter, but I am mortally humiliated. Chadwick shot a pheasant, and I bagged nothing."

"Did you enjoy tramping about the property? You always said it was the best part."

Her father's eyes softened. "You remembered."

I remember all the times we spent together, and I miss you. "I hope you shoot a bird tomorrow," she said.

"Maybe not tomorrow, but I intend to before the house party concludes."

"We mustn't speak of the bird I shot earlier today," the marquess said. "The twins will be overset."

Angeline turned to the marquess. "Oh, I suppose they are tenderhearted about all creatures."

The marquess snorted. "Nothing of the kind. They wanted to come along with us today and insisted that ugly dog could fetch for us."

"Well, Wycoff, I suppose we should be off. Perhaps you wish your daughter to travel with you?" the marquess said.

"We're both covered in mud. I don't want to inadvertently muss your gown, Angeline," Wycoff said.

"It's only mud, Papa." I love you and hope you have forgiven me.

"Your mother would not be pleased if I dirtied your skirts."

"Well, we'll go on ahead," the marquess said. "Colin, you will take the maid up in the carriage, of course. Do not dally. Your stepmother will have a good dinner waiting."

Colin joined Angeline at the door. She bit her lip as the marquess's carriage rolled away, but her eyes welled.

"Angeline, I hope I did not discompose you earlier."

"Of course n-not." The catch in her voice troubled him.

He feared he was responsible, but he wasn't sure what he'd done wrong.

The sound of horse hooves alerted him. "There's John now," he said.

Agnes appeared from the direction of the servant's stairs and bobbed a curtsy. "I left the feather duster and broom in the kitchen, my lady."

"Thank you, Agnes," Angeline said. "We are ready to depart."

Colin locked the door and turned to her. "Is all well with you?" He knew something was amiss, but he'd never understood women.

"Yes, I'm gratified to see my father in such good spirits."

She'd implied that her father had been in poor spirits. Obviously the events surrounding Angeline's broken engagement had been difficult for the entire family. She probably felt guilty, but in his opinion, she'd made the right decision to call off the engagement.

The only thing he didn't understand was why her father had approved the engagement. Brentmoor was well known for his ruinous gambling and indiscreet liaisons. That begged the question as to how she'd ever gotten involved with the man in the first place.

Angeline had her faults, but she'd never been anybody's fool. Until, apparently, Brentmoor.

He escorted her to the carriage and helped her negotiate the steps. He sat across from her with his back to the horses and knocked his cane on the ceiling. Minutes later the carriage rolled off. He looked out the window and knew he'd made a mistake today. While he'd only intended to tease her, his blood had definitely heated more than a few degrees.

Nothing of import had happened. Granted, he'd felt a stirring of desire, but he'd not acted upon it.

He tried telling himself he was making too much of it, but she'd been through an ordeal with her former fiance. The gossip had spread far and wide. Her mother had felt the need to take her abroad because of it. Her father must have taken it hard.

h.e.l.l. She'd offered her expertise, and he'd come very close to kissing her, but he had not. He'd teased her, but there was no harm in that. The trouble was he'd wanted more, but that would prove disastrous if he were ever foolish enough to act upon it.

He had no idea what had happened between her and Brentmoor, but he knew the man had ruinous gaming debts and bragged about the numerous married ladies he'd bagged. Colin thought the man disgusting.

There had been countless women in his life, but they had all been fleeting encounters. None of them had meant anything more to him than a tumble between the sheets, but he'd never misled them. He'd never felt an ounce of remorse, because they had all been more than willing. Not once had he considered he might have wounded them. He'd never stayed long enough to know. He wouldn't even let himself think about the courtesans.

Angeline was a lady, and their families were close. The last thing he needed was to unintentionally set up expectations. He needn't worry. She'd made no secret of her low opinion of him. There was nothing to worry about. She'd agreed to a.s.sist him only because she was bored witless with needlework and apparently enjoyed making over rooms. He need not worry about taking advantage of her talent. She wanted to be involved.

All the same, he vowed to keep their encounters focused on the renovations and avoid flirting with her. She had enough troubles, and he couldn't afford the distraction.

That evening after dinner After the desserts, the marchioness rose and all of the ladies followed her to the drawing room while the gentlemen drank their port. Angeline was anxious for their return and hoped to persuade her father to play chess with her. They had not played since her return from Paris. Today, her father had seemed his old self again. She'd worried so much and blamed herself for his melancholy. While she'd not wanted to attend this house party, she was so grateful, because it had enlivened her father.

The twins sang while Penny played the pianoforte. Angeline was proud of her sister. Penny had a natural talent, but she blushed and lowered her eyes the entire time she played.

When she finished, Angeline's protective instincts rose up. She sat on the bench beside Penny. "I'll turn the pages while you play."

Penny smiled. "Thank you, Angie. I always feel braver when you sit beside me while I play."

"You will practice playing before others at the house party, and if you concentrate on the music, that will help. If you think too much about others watching, it will make you nervous.

"Remember that all the other girls are as nervous as you are. Keep your eyes on the music sheets and shut out everything else."

"I will remember," Penny said, and started to play again.

Penny had to overcome her fear of exhibiting before a crowd. It was important, because she would be called upon to play next spring at her debut. Angeline bit her lip and hoped that her scandal would not affect Penny's come-out. She'd discovered that she could withstand horrible gossip and humiliation, but she could not bear it if her mistakes prevented her little sister from making her debut.

Margaret stood. "Angeline, I must apologize. You received a letter today. How could I have forgotten?"

"Thank you, Margaret." Angeline whispered to her sister, "Keep playing."

She walked over to the window seat, broke the seal, and turned the paper. "It's from Charlotte." She'd not had a letter from her friend in all the time she'd been abroad. She'd missed her and thought she would never hear from her again. Her emotions rose up, but she had learned how to keep it all buried inside by imagining a steaming kettle. Take if off the fire just before the steam reaches the boiling point.

Out of the corner of her eye, Angeline saw her mother watching. In need of privacy, she rose, and as she walked to the window seat, she overheard Margaret say the letter seemed like a good omen. Angeline could not imagine it. With a deep breath, she started reading.

Dearest Angeline, It is my greatest hope that this letter finds you well. Please forgive me for my lapse in correspondence. It was not of my choice, and now I must not tarry. My husband would be displeased if he knew. Please know that not a day has gone by that I haven't missed you.

In the interval since she'd returned home from Paris, she'd been isolated with her family. It was one thing to know her reputation was damaged in the abstract, but it was quite another when it was poor enough that a friend's husband forbade contact. She knew the reason and still felt guilty because Charlotte's husband had been furious.

I confess I was torn whether to inform you or not, and I had no one I felt comfortable asking for advice. After a great deal of contemplation, I realized if it were me, I would prefer to hear the news from a trusted friend. It pains me to inform you that Brentmoor has returned to England.

She felt as if a broadsword had pierced her heart.

Oh, G.o.d, he'd returned.

Her fingers trembled, and she had to smooth the letter on her lap so that no one would see her vexation. At all costs she mustn't let on, because she didn't want Penny to ever know what had happened. She took a deep breath and continued reading.

As I write this letter, I know it is bound to wound you. The events have incited renewed gossip. Others have unfairly painted you as a jilt and intimated worse.

Deep down, she'd always held out a thread of hope that she could recover from the scandal, but Brentmoor's return was a staggering blow.

Her stomach felt a bit queasy. An engaged couple was allowed to be alone, once consent was given and the contracts were signed. She'd cried off a fortnight after the contracts had been drawn up, and Brentmoor had made matters far worse by spreading filthy lies about her.

Her spirits sagged. She'd held on to the hope that he would never return and that the gossip would subside. She'd hoped to repair her reputation with time. Now that Brentmoor had returned, there was no hope.

You will likely wonder how he ever managed such a feat, given his timely escape from his creditors, but he is married to a woman with thirty thousand pounds, and she is the same shameless woman you discovered with Brentmoor that awful night at the ball. After less than a year, Lady Cunningham has left off her mourning and married Brentmoor, fool that she is, for he will surely spend her entire fortune. They now have an estate at Woodham Hall.

That was the property Mrs. Quimby had mentioned. Clearly the reverend's wife had not known his name or his circ.u.mstances. But the ton would know.

A fog enveloped her, but she caught her mother's eye and managed to fold the letter perfunctorily.