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“It is a tragedy, Miss Belmont, make no mistake. I think you will enjoy the book very much. I look forward to your thoughts.”

He strolled forward to where she still sat on the low sofa. He circled her, walking behind the seat so that she itched to turn around and face him. Idle fingers drifted over the back of the sofa, notquitetouching her shoulders but close. The back of her neck, exposed since her hair was pinned up on her head, tingled almost as if a breath were ghosting over it.

Curious, she glanced down at the book, opening the cover. She had picked up the first volume, which seemed to be a letter from the narrator to a relative. A strange beginning.

“You’re here to convince me to marry you,” Emily murmured, half to herself. The duke had crossed in front of her and was now walking behind the sofa once again, circling her like a wolf circling its prey. “It is not working. You and I ought not to court, Your Grace. We could hardly survive a second scandal. I am not entirely sure that I have survived the first.”

He chuckled, the sound seeming almost disembodied from behind her. With the low, flickering light of the candles, the man seemed to pass in and out of the shadows like a wraith.

The hairs on Emily’s arms stood on end. She could feel that tightening in her stomach again, that unmistakable rise of desire. It would not be dispelled, no matter how hard she tried. It was notfair. Why could she not be attracted to a pleasant, ordinary man? A man who wouldnotblackmail her.

Because an ordinary man would be shocked by you and your paintings, foolish girl.

She ought to leave, of course. It was not proper to be alone with a man under any circumstances, and certainly not in a distant, lonely library in a large house.

“The God of War and Aphrodite would give no thought to scandals,” the duke remarked, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

She sighed impatiently. “Must I explain the difference between reality and fiction to you, Your Grace? You may weather this storm of scandal, but I cannot. For now, we are both in disgrace, and I for one may never climb out of it.”

Abruptly, he appeared in her field of vision, leaning over the back of the sofa so that they were almost cheek to cheek. She could smell the spicy scent of his cologne once again and feel the warmth of his skin. Her fingers tightened around the book.

“‘It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from the world. But on that account, we shall be more attached to one another.’”

He straightened up, disappearing from her field of vision. This time, Emily twisted around to look up at him. He was still standing behind the sofa, his hands resting easily on the back, grinning down at her like some sort of debauched cherub.

No, not a cherub. There was not, and never could be, anything cherubic abouthim. He really was the God of War, through and through. She could almost imagine a Grecian shield on his back, a sword at his hip, and blood streaking his face and limbs.

Emily swallowed thickly, bouncing to her feet. She’d had enough of being circled. She leftFrankensteinon the cushion.

“Heavens, you must have read that book a great deal,” she muttered. “Enough of these games, Your Grace. Tell me once and for all why you are so determined to marryme.I am under no illusions. I am not very pretty, and while I have an influential family, I daresay we also bring more scandal than the whole of London put together. I have embarrassed you once already—for which I am very sorry—and I am clearly reluctant to marry you. Half of the women in that ballroom would marry you at the drop of a hat, disgraced or not. So, why me?”

He folded his arms. “And what makes you think I want any of those other women? The ones which, according to you, are so very easy to catch.”

She flushed. “Well, I imagine that the Baroness Rawdon would be most keen to receive your attention.”

She could tell at once that she’d said the wrong thing.

The duke stiffened, unfolding his arms. “The baroness would never consider my attention,” he said shortly. “And I would never consider giving it. Whatever relationship you imagine I have with the woman, you are wrong. Let us leave it there.”

Hm. I struck a nerve, it seems.

She changed tack. “What is it you want from me, Your Grace?”

The duke stepped neatly around the sofa, and Emily began to wish she’d remained seated. He advanced towards her, his gaze shadowed and heavy, and the tightening in her gut began topulse, her skin somehow shivering with awareness.

Oh dear. I’m in a great deal of trouble.

She’d heard from her sisters, in whispered giggles, that women could feel just as strongly for a man as a man might feel for a woman. Emily wasn’t sure she’d ever believed it. Not until now, at least.

“I want a duchess with no expectations,” the duke murmured, his gaze still fixed unblinkingly on her.

She snorted before she could stop herself. “Oh, but I’d wager thatyouhave expectations of your duchess, haven’t you? How is that fair?”

Far from being angry, he only grinned, his teeth gleaming in the candlelight. “Why, how sharp you are, Miss Belmont. May I call you Emily?”

He took another step forward, and the ridge of the table knocked against the back of Emily’s hips.

She bristled. “I thinkMiss Belmontwill do quite nicely for now,” she muttered, unable to tear her gaze away from his face.