She was a woman who loved without judgment. Who gave her heart and loyalty without condemning another for their frailties.

Perhaps for most gentlemen her open attachment to a known thief would cause a reasonable distress. The undoubted scandal attached to her name was only exasperated by her refusal to appear suitably horrified by her connection to the Devilish Dandy. But for Anthony it was a quality he deeply admired. He had endured his fill of those who offered their love only to impose impossible conditions to maintain their affection.

Entering the shadows of the stables, Anthony halted as a tall, lean form stepped forward. He felt a flicker of surprise as he met the glittering green gaze.

"Mr. Foxworth," he murmured.

The older gentleman gave a faint nod of his head. "Mr. Clarke."

"Are you riding today?"

"Actually, I was waiting for you."

Although Anthony had already suspected as much, he lifted a dark brow. "Indeed?"

"Yes, I particularly wished to speak with you in private."

"About what?"

Foxworth stroked a faint scar on his cheek. "I believe you have been out riding with my niece?"

Anthony's expression became guarded, wondering where the wily man was about to lead him.

"We visited the local village."

"She is a lovely girl, is she not?"

"Quite lovely."

"She is also headstrong and dangerously impulsive," Mr. Foxworth continued, studying Anthony with an unnerving intensity. "She rarely considers the consequences before she plunges into a situation."

Anthony could not prevent his wry smile. "Yes, I h-have noticed such tendencies."

"Then you will understand if I am rather protective of her."

Ah, so he was about to receive a stern warning, Anthony acknowledged with a flare of amused disbelief. An odd thought for a gentleman far more accustomed to having young maidens tossed at his feet.

"Certainly," he agreed in mild tones.

"I should not like to see her reckless nature lead her to anything she might later have reason to regret."

Anthony arched a dark brow. "Are you inquiring whether I intend to be an honorable gentleman?"

Mr. Foxworth abruptly smiled. "I did not intend to be quite so blunt, but yes."

It was not often that Anthony found his honor questioned and he discovered that he did not particularly care for the experience.

"I consider Miss Cresswell an extraordinary maiden who deserves all the respect due to her. I would never compromise her innocence or her integrity."

The green gaze never wavered. "And what of her heart?"

"It will never be my intention to hurt her."

"Unfortunately it rarely is intentional. That does not make the pain less. Especially for a girl who leads with her heart."

Anthony could not deny the truth in his words. Although Rachel tried very hard to give the image of a shallow, hardened flirt, she was very vulnerable beneath the flamboyant charm. Far more vulnerable than even he had suspected.

"I s-shall keep that in mind."

"See that you do."

His warning delivered, the older gentleman turned to negligently stroll from the stables. Anthony watched with a strange sense of unease.

He did not particularly care to be warned off like he was a lecherous cad. Especially by a gentleman he suspected was far from a saint. On the other hand he had to admit his determined pursuit of Miss Cresswell was enough to stir the suspicion of any proper guardian.

Even worse, he could hardly assure Mr. Foxworth of his intentions, when he had no notion of what his intentions were.

Certainly he wanted to seduce Rachel. Whenever she was near he nearly trembled with the effort to keep himself from pulling her into his arms and drowning in her sweetness. And his nights . . . Gads, he had never ached with such fierce need.

But he had not lied to Mr. Foxworth when he had assured him that he would always treat Rachel with respect. He did not seduce virgins and leave them to their shattered fates. And he did not doubt for a moment she was utterly innocent.

So where did that leave him?

Frustrated, certainly.

Puzzled.

Tantalized.

Distracted.

And yet, at this moment he would not be anywhere else in the world.

"Sir, did you get what you be needing?"

With a blink Anthony realized that he had been joined by the young groom who had happily agreed to help with his current project.

He readily shoved aside his tangled thoughts. What was the point in brooding about questions that had no answers? It was far better to tackle the problems that could be solved.

"I believe so." He held up his bag. "Shall we get to work?"

Eight.

Standing in the shadows of the salon, Anthony surveyed the numerous guests as they chatted and flirted with casual ease.

It had been the same every evening for the past week.

Mr. Carlfield was clearly determined to celebrate in lavish style his good fortune in landing a wealthy son-in-law. There was rarely a moment when the house was not filled with visitors enjoying luncheons, dinners, musicales, and card parties. Under normal circumstances Anthony would long ago have fled to the quiet peace of his London town house. He intensely disliked the constant need to make polite conversation at every turn.

But despite his discomfort his bags remained unpacked. And he did not have to look far to discover the reason for his unusual forbearance.

Leaning against the faded paneling, Anthony allowed his gaze to linger on the golden-haired beauty that had so mysteriously lured him to Surrey.

No, he swiftly corrected his inane thoughts. There was nothing mysterious about his arrival in Surrey.

His blood quickened as he studied the elegant profile, then lowered to the delicious curves nicely revealed by the emerald silk gown cut to emphasize the luscious fullness of her bosom. He had followed her because he could not help himself.

The only mystery was what he intended to do now that he was here.

A faint smile curved his lips as he watched the object of his fascination stifle a yawn. At the moment she was surrounded by a gaggle of elder matrons who were fiercely debating the traditions involved in making the perfect wedding. It was a debate that had raged for a better part of an hour and Anthony was not surprised when he noticed Rachel begin to edge away from the clucking women. He patiently waited until she had made good her escape and settled on a far sofa with obvious relief. Unlike most young maidens, she did not devote her life to the grand dream of becoming wed. Indeed, she was rather annoying in her desire never to be chained to the bonds of a gentleman. He had known it would be only a matter of time before she sought peace from the incessant discussion.

Nonchalantly pushing himself from the wall, Anthony strolled across the room and boldly sat next to her on the sofa.

"You appear somewhat bored, my dear," he teased lightly.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Such a fuss over a mere wedding."

"There are certain customs to be observed. Most of them have been around hundreds of years."

The hazel eyes flashed at his calm words. "Are you an expert on weddings by chance?"

"Just well read," he retorted, ignoring her deliberate barb as he reached out to grasp her left hand. "For instance did you know that we place the wedding ring on the third finger because the Greeks thought it directly connected to the heart by the 'Vein of Love'?" He traced a light path from the palm of her hand up to her elbow, reveling in the unmistakable shiver he felt race through her body. "Or that many Roman rings were carved with two clasped hands to represent love and commitment?"

Seemingly as indifferent to the covert glances being tossed in their directions as himself, Rachel leaned forward. Anthony deeply inhaled the rose scent of her skin.

"That is very romantic."

"It is also thought that the tradition of the Best Man comes from the days when a man would capture his bride from a neighboring village and would take his most formidable friend along for security. That was also the reason the bride was placed on his left during the ceremony. He could never be certain when he would need his sword hand free to battle off an attack of angry relatives."

She gave a shake of her head. "Now that is not nearly as romantic."

"Would you like me to explain the traditions of the honeymoon?" he asked softly, continuing to stroke the soft inner skin of her elbow.

Her eyes darkened. "No, I think that I have been educated enough for one evening."

"A p-pity. It is quite fascinating."

"Yes, I suppose it might be." She paused then she drew in a deep breath. "Do you know, it has grown quite warm in here."

He was not slow to pick up her hint and a ready heat flowed through his lower body. He wanted nothing more than to whisk her away from the swelling crowd. It had been far too long since he had held her in his arms. But the knowledge that Mr. Foxworth was currently regarding them with a narrowed gaze made him hesitate.

He did not fear the older man, but he did respect his right to be concerned for his niece's welfare.

"I would offer to take you out for a breath of air, but I have been specifically warned to behave with proper restraint in your presence."

Her brow creased in puzzlement. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Your uncle was quite clear that I am not to break your heart."

"Ah." She abruptly chuckled. "He is very protective."

"Yes. He does not realize just how very elusive that heart of yours is."

Her gaze lowered to where his fingers absently stroked her skin.

"Do you wish to break my heart?"

"Certainly not," he denied in firm tones. "I would never harm you. But I do wonder if that specific organ can be reached."

"Like you, it would take someone very special," she said softly.

"Ah." He closely studied the lowered lashes, the slender nose, and the satin softness of her lips. He realized that he very much wished to discover what sort of gentleman would tempt her to toss aside her proudly flaunted independence. "And what are your requirements?"

She deliberately paused, as if considering her answer. "He would have to be handsome, of course."

"Of course."

"And of a romantic disposition."

"Is that all?"

"Certainly not." Her gaze lifted to regard him with a steady gaze. "He would have to be intelligent and strong, but he could not attempt to treat me as a witless child. And he would have to adore me."

The heady scent of roses was quickly going to his head. "Who would not?"

"And he could not constantly forget my presence in favor of his workroom," she concluded with open delight at besting him.

He slowly smiled. The mere notion of any gentleman forgetting her presence was ludicrous. Were she in his house the only reason he would be in his workroom would be if she were with him. Perhaps assisting him with his current invention. Or better still, leading him to the small sofa he kept in the corner. . .

With an effort he forced his thoughts from the dangerous images.

"You expect a gentleman who will dance constant attendance upon you?" he demanded in light tones.

She shrugged. "I would not wish to be ignored."

Anthony gave a slow shake of his head. He knew that her words were designed merely to torment him.

"There is a v-vast difference between being ignored and smothering someone with attention. I do not believe you would care for a gentleman who would demand to be always at your side or who would complain if he did not know precisely where you were every moment of the day. An independent woman would soon chaff beneath such a tight bridle."

She regarded him with wry annoyance, unable to deny the truth of his words.

"I do not believe I wish to be likened to a horse."