"I most certainly am," he retorted without the least hint of apology. "What if some man had happened by? You would have been completely at his mercy."

Rachel blithely forgot her brief moment of fear when Anthony had first appeared.

"I am quite capable of caring for myself. Indeed, I have been doing so for quite some time."

He appeared remarkably unimpressed by her prim words.

"That was because you had not yet entered my life. From now on you will take greater care of yourself. Beginning with not roaming about the countryside in the midst of night."

A fierce stab of pleasure filled her heart at his words, unnerving Rachel with its intensity.

"Sir, I believe that you overstep your bounds."

"Indeed?" Without warning he reached out to grasp her shoulders and jerked her close. Rachel opened her mouth to protest at the same moment that his head descended to capture her lips in a fierce, utterly possessive kiss. A poignant ache bloomed in the pit of her stomach. She wanted him to pull her even closer. To wrap his arms about her and kiss her until the dawn crested. But even as she instinctively swayed forward, he was lifting his head to regard her with a glittering gaze. "Now I have overstepped my bounds."

More than a little shaken by her swift, uncontrollable reaction to his unexpected kiss, Rachel pulled from his grasp.

She was not entirely certain that she cared for this power he possessed over her. Even if it did create a storm of pleasure whenever he was near.

"I believe we should return to the house."

"You are no doubt right," he agreed, circling his fingers about her elbow to steer her from the woods. For a time they walked in silence, then Anthony glanced down at her shadowed countenance. "Did you enjoy the ball?"

Rachel shrugged, recalling the evening that had been filled with a wide variety of emotions. Now that she was certain Julia was safe, she could dwell upon her earlier unease.

"I suppose it went as well as could be expected."

"Because it was a simple country ball?" he teased.

She glanced up, her expression troubled. "Because the future bride appeared grimly miserable and the future bridegroom was so puffed up with his own self-importance that he did not even notice."

"Yes," he agreed grimly, "it is a poor match."

"I am afraid for Violet," Rachel confessed, unable to banish the strange conversation she had shared with the maiden. "Her disposition is so low that I fear she might do something desperate."

"You fear she might bolt?"

Rachel hesitated, uncertain what she feared. In truth, if Violet simply decided to bolt it would be a relief, she had to acknowledge. Fleeing from an unwanted marriage might create a bit of gossip, but it would not do irrevocable harm to one's reputation.

"I do not know. She spoke to me tonight of a life of scandal. She said that she envied the freedom that scandal had brought to my life."

His grip abruptly tightened on her elbow. "Did you tell her that rather than freedom scandal has made you afraid to trust in yourself and in love?"

She stiffened at his harsh accusation. "I trust in myself."

"No, you do not. You believe because your father is fickle and undependable, you will be the same."

"It is a rather rational belief," she said tartly. "We are very much alike."

Anthony muttered a curse beneath his breath. "It is utter rubbish. Your father was free to make the choices in his life that he made, just as you are free to make your own choices. It is solely within your own power whether to be irresponsible or steady of nature."

Rachel made an impatient sound. It was very easy for him to dismiss her fears as nonsense. He had not been raised by the Devilish Dandy. Nor lived a life of unpredictable chaos that had kept her and her sisters in constant upheaval.

"You do not believe in fate?" she demanded.

"Of course not. I believe our futures are firmly in our own hands."

"You can not be so certain."

"Yes, I can be." He brought her to a firm halt, gazing down at her with a somber expression. "Your love for your father has never wavered, despite his faults and weaknesses. And no one can doubt your attachment to your sisters."

"I love them, but that does not prevent me from doing things that they disapprove of."

He gave a short laugh. "Good gads, Rachel, d-do you not suppose that my mother disapproves of my fascination with inventions or my dislike of society?"

She wondered if he was deliberately attempting to misread her words. Surely he could not truly understand just how closely she resembled her scapegrace father.

"I have not started a school to help the poor, as Sarah has done, nor have I attempted to support myself, as Emma. I have devoted myself to frivolous concerns."

He gave a shake of his head. "I do not believe I have ever encountered a maiden more determined to give me a disgust of her."

She was taken aback by his accusation. "I am merely attempting to be truthful."

His hand gently cupped her cheek. "I know the truth, my dearest. No amount of warnings will convince me otherwise."

Her knees felt oddly weak as she gazed at the determined set of his features.

"What do you want from me?"

There was a long unnerving silence as if Anthony were uncertain himself what it was he desired. Then much to her relief he offered her a wry smile and turned to continue on their way toward Carlfield Manor.

"For tonight merely to ensure that you are safely returned to your bed. Tomorrow we will consider your most provocative question."

Twelve.

The night was a long, restless one for Anthony. Over and over he had brooded about that moment he had gazed down at Rachel's moon-kissed countenance.

"What do you want from me?" she had demanded.

What, indeed.

He had been uncertain of his reason for following Rachel to Surrey. He had known he was fascinated and tantalized. He had known that he wanted to become better acquainted with her vibrant spirit. And he had known that he had to kiss those enticing lips at least once in his lifetime.

But last night he had been struck by blinding realization.

He might have followed Rachel out of some mysterious compulsion, but he had remained because he was falling in love with her.

Not surprisingly he had been stunned by the knowledge.

He had rarely given thought to acquiring a wife. As he had assured Rachel, he possessed any number of cousins who could carry on the Clarke name. And he could not conceive of a woman who would not eventually bore him to distraction. Certainly none of his mistresses had managed to produce more than a tepid interest.

But he had foolishly underestimated the potent allure of Rachel Cresswell.

Here was a woman who would never bore him.

She might drive him mad, he acknowledged wryly, but he would never be bored. And what an utterly delicious method of going batty.

A heat stirred within him even as a wry smile curved his lips.

He wanted Rachel more than he had ever wanted any woman. In truth, he burned for her with an intensity that was near painful. But his desire for her was not merely physical. He craved to see her smile, to watch her kind tenderness toward Julia, to match his wits and intelligence with her own and enjoy her ability to bewitch an entire room with one glance from those amazing hazel eyes.

Gads, he did not know how it had happened. What precise moment Rachel had tunneled her way into his heart. The only thing he was certain of was that he wanted her in his life.

Now and forever.

A wish that unfortunately was unattainable until he could convince the perverse minx that she was not doomed to make the same mistakes as her father.

Absently pacing across the library, Anthony gave a shake of his head. Somehow when dealing with Rachel things were never simple. She was a complex mystery that would take an eternity to unravel.

Reaching the window, he gazed at the brisk March rain that peppered the diamond-shaped panes. Spring had arrived in force, drenching the Surrey landscape in a flurry of brief, but violent storms.

Considering the heavy clouds with a restless frown, Anthony was interrupted by the sound of the door to the library being pushed open.

Surprised at the interruption since most of the guests were still in their chambers dressing for dinner, Anthony turned to discover Mr. Foxworth stepping into the room. His surprise only deepened when the gentleman, elegantly attired in a cranberry coat and pink pantaloons, closed the door and deliberately turned the lock.

Turning about, the older gentleman regarded Anthony with a smooth smile.

"Good evening, Mr. Clarke."

"Mr. Foxworth."

"May I have a moment?"

Instantly intrigued, Anthony stepped from the window and gave a nod of his head.

"Certainly." He cast a deliberate glance at the closed door. "I assume this is of a private nature?"

"Yes."

Anthony smiled, regarding the lean features that were so similar to Rachel's. Over the past week he had spent more than a few moments pondering this gentleman and his obvious concern and affection for his niece.

"I do h-hope I am not to be called out. It is rumored that the Devilish Dandy is deadly on the field of honor."

A sharp silence descended before the gentleman gave a rueful grimace.

"I feared that you had learned the truth. Did Rachel tell you?"

"No. It was simply the obvious closeness between the two of you. Far closer than a mere uncle and niece. Also, she possesses many of your mannerisms."

He offered Anthony an admiring bow. "Thankfully few are as perceptive as you, Mr. Clarke."

Anthony casually leaned against the edge of the heavy walnut desk.

"Why are you in Surrey?"

The Devilish Dandy lifted his hands in a dismissive motion. "I feared my impetuous and rather headstrong daughter might manage to land herself in a bumble broth without my presence. She can be far too rash when her heart is involved."

"Do you mean her determination to have revenge on Lady Broswell?"

"Yes."

Anthony narrowed his dark eyes, hoping to discover the answer to a number of questions that had been plaguing him.

"You know, I must admit a confusion in her behavior. Rachel is n-not a petty or spiteful maiden. Why does she feel such antagonism toward Lady Broswell?"

There was a pause before the Devilish Dandy gave a small shrug.

"Because she is her aunt."

Anthony abruptly stiffened. "What?"

"My wife was sister to Lady Broswell," he retorted, the green eyes glinting at Anthony's obvious shock. "Needless to say I was not readily accepted into the family. In fact, we were forced to flee England and the family put out that Rosalind had died rather than admit she had wed so far beneath herself."

"Good God," Anthony breathed, suddenly realizing just how personal Rachel's connection to Lady Broswell truly was. It certainly explained why she had taken the woman's vindictive insults so much to heart. It also explained Lady Broswell's irrational dislike of the daughter of the Devilish Dandy. The woman would always view Rachel as a threat to her social position.

"Rachel has always resented how her mother was treated and to some measure, herself. I believe that she is determined to prove to herself that she is every bit as worthy as Lady Broswell and her daughters."

Anthony gave a slow nod of his head, his heart aching for the pain Rachel had endured at the hands of her own family. It was a pain he was intimately familiar with.

"Yes."

The Devilish Dandy watched Anthony's features tighten in anger at the thought of Rachel's family turning their back on her.

"You care for Rachel, do you not?" he asked softly.

With an effort Anthony gained command of his scattered thoughts. This gentleman was far too clever. He needed complete control of his wits to match swords with him.

The Devilish Dandy had sought him out for a purpose. And until he discovered what that purpose was he intended to be on guard.

"Are you about to demand my intentions?" he demanded.

A mocking expression descended upon the lean countenance. "I know your intentions."