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I wish he hadn’t shown her the conservatory. She’ll think I’m a madman with a lust for plants. Which, of course, I am. And naturally, it does not matter at all what she thinks about me, so I should not care.

He was inclined to glance over his shoulder to see if Miss Haversham was following him, but he knew that she would be.

Frankly, he was a little annoyed at how excited he had been to receive her note. Stephen knew his flaws, and he was well aware that when he set his mind on something, he tended to focus on it rather overmuch. He had set his mind on marrying Miss Haversham, so that was all he could think about.

Only because it madesense, he reminded himself. Not because of any other reason.

Miss Haversham gave a tiny sigh of relief as she began to warm up in the hot conservatory. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her readjusting her cloak, letting it fall a little more open.

He found himself staring.

What she was wearing now was the exact opposite of her wedding dress, and it suited her perfectly. It was a silk gown, dark blue, and clung rather closely to her bosom and the curve of her hips, the loose falls of silk below her waist giving the impression of a taller woman. Perhaps the neckline would not have beenquiteso impressive on a thinner lady, but it seemed to hug Miss Haversham’s impressive chest nicely, faint swells of white flesh showing just above the square neckline.

Stephen cleared his throat, pointedly turning away.

It does not matter how pretty she is.It is not going to be that kind of marriage, is it? Imagine her in that hideous wedding dress the Marquess picked out for her.

He managed to conjure up an image of Miss Haversham in that dress, withalarmingdetail, but it did not work. Instead, Stephen found himself imagining what dress hewould have placed her in.

Something with a little more flare, for a start, less fashionable and more classy, with plenty of white silk and a scandalously low neckline to show off those marvelous?—

“Oh, look, Mouse has left a tea tray for us,” Miss Haversham remarked, stepping past him.

The Green Parlor was the one that led to the conservatory, a small, serviceable room that was not frequently used. It contained just about all of Stephen’s books on botany and plant care, a few sun-faded chairs and tables, and not much else.

Really,parlorwas a grandiose word for the room, but there it was.

She was right—Mouse, with his impeccable sixth sense, had guessed that they would soon be coming back into the house, and had left a tea tray on a low coffee table, with two chairs angled towards each other.

Worst of all, the wretched man had left a copy of Stephen’s book,A Noble Guide To Botany, on the table. Stephen snatched it up before Miss Haversham could notice, tossing it behind a bookshelf. It was, of course, written under a pseudonym, but that did not stop Mouse from telling anyone who would listen that it wasStephenwho wrote it.

I swear, that man has dozens of blank copies of my wretched book for just these occasions.Perhaps that is why it sold so well—Mouse bought all the copies.

“Take a seat, Miss Haversham. Allow me to pour you a cup of tea. Cake?”

“No, thank you,” she murmured, sitting gingerly on the edge of her seat. “Perhaps you can answer a question that has been weighing on my mind, though.”

“I shall do my best.”

“Why doyou want to marry?”

Stephen took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding, carefully pouring two cups of steaming hot tea.

“Every Season,” he said, “despite my reputation, there are several eager young women and their ambitious mamas who rather think I am in need of a duchess. After all, dukes get married, do they not? The longer I remain a bachelor and without an heir, the more I am talked about. I have a reputation that puts off many women, but not all. Some romantic ladies believe they canchangeme, some others think they can charm me, and others believe they can trick me. Therein lies the problem. Dodging young hopefuls, while it is tiring, is quite manageable, but some ladies—and their mamas—stoop to other tricks.”

“You mean, they try to compromise themselves so that you will have to marry them?” Miss Haversham said, realization dawning on her.

“Some have gone that far, yes. Others simply try to form an understanding with me, believing that the pressure from Society will compel me to make an offer. It won’t, of course, but that doesn’t stop them from making fools of themselves and irritating me. And despite all this, I do notwantthese silly young women to ruin their lives and destroy their reputations. I am, quite frankly, not worth it.”

She bit back a smile. “I am inclined to agree. Why don’t you simply stay away from London?”

He shot her a look. “Wouldyoulike to waste your life out in the middle of nowhere, Miss Haversham? Away from your friends, from Society, from your books and learning and opportunities?”

She pulled a face. “No, I suppose not.”

“London is a great beating heart, my dear. It is thrilling. Not everybody’s cup of tea, but it is mine, and I intend to stay. By the way, speaking of cups of tea, here is yours.”

She took it and sipped from it absently.