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She gazed at herself in the long mirror. She may not have had a proper come-out, but at least she had the beautiful gowns her grandfather purchased for her London debut.

How excited she’d been at the prospect of her first London season. Everything had been set. Grandfather rented a house in the fashionable district, enlisted a proper sponsor.

Then Collin sailed for America. When his ship went down at sea, a debut season lost all appeal, despite her grandfather's urgings.

But she didn’t want to think of that now. Instead she’d focus on all the dresses she had at her disposal. Maybe they were no longer of the first stare of fashion, yet to her they were magnificent.

As she let herself into the corridor, an unbidden thought emerged. What would Zeke think now?

***

Zeke waited in the parlor of Hastings House for the ladies to join him. He opened his gold pocket watch, checking the time. Ten minutes to eight. He tucked the watch back into his waistcoat and stared out the oriel window. Outside, rain fell in sheets.

Kitty had suggested their early morning departure might be delayed as a result of the storm. The fact she’d been proven correct irked him. Exactly why, he couldn’t say. It would amount to no more than a few hours, after all.

But then, if he was being honest, it wasn’t the delay so much as the sense he needed to get Kitty away from here.

He’d read something in her eyes as she systematically inspected each room in her home.

She seemed forlorn. Almost defeated. Seeing the valiant lady who braved the streets to London, then dressed like a lad and posed as a servant, looking like a whipped puppy bothered him.

Approaching footsteps from behind him provided a welcome distraction from his thoughts. He swung around, hands clasped behind his back, and blinked at the apparition standing in the doorway.

Kit had once and for all been put to rest.

Lady Kitty had dressed for dinner in a form-fitting gown, made of a frothy green material that matched her eyes and glinted in the flickering candlelight.

Her long hair had been styled high, and soft, fat curls cascaded from the crown of her head, while delicate tendrils artfully framed her face. She looked, in a word, stunning.

He ought to compliment her, as any gentleman would. “Good evening, my lady,” he said instead.

She sent him a tentative smiled and moved toward him, her gown making soft, swishing sounds. The unique scent of her reached him before she did—rosemary and lavender. He smiled remembering the tiny bar of soap he’d unearthed in Kit’s room.

“Good evening, Lord Thurgood.”

His gaze drifted over her, helplessly taking in the creamy expanse of skin revealed by the demure décolleté of her gown, and the tiny span of her waist. From there the gown hugged her hips only to flare out again below her knees. She looked damned delectable.

His eyes narrowed on her face as it occurred to him to wonder if she had an ulterior motive.

Her smiled faded, and her pale green eyes widened in concern. “My lord, is something wrong?”

“Not at all. Why do you ask?”

Her feathered brows shot upward as if the answer were obvious. “Because you’re scowling.”

Damn it all. He cleared his expression. He was smarter than to out-and-out accuse her of trying to seduce him into a real marriage proposal, wasn’t he? Besides, whether she was fool enough to try to barter on her looks, pretty girls were a dime a dozen.

“I was thinking how lovely you look in a dress,” he said curtly.

Her cheeks bloomed a fine shade of pink. “Er…thank you, my lord?”

“I was also thinking you might need a few things clarified concerning our arrangement.”

“Of course,” she whispered, and inched closer to him. She peered over her shoulder at the doorway, as if ascertaining they were alone then gazed up at him. “Go on.”

His eyes locked with hers, and a shock of awareness coursed through him. Out of nowhere he was gripped with the most idiotic desire to sweep her into his arms and feast on her plump, rosy lips. He blinked. Felt a trickle of sweat course down his back. “Excuse me?”

Her brows furrowed slightly. “You just said you wanted to clarify a few things.”

He did want to make things clear. So why did he feel like a cornered hare?

“Later. We’ll need privacy. Obviously a walk through the gardens will be impossible thanks to this rain.”

“We’re alone now,” she insisted.

“My aunt will join us any moment.”

“Perhaps you can come to my antechamber later, when everyone retires,” she whispered “It’s the last one on the—”

“I know which is yours. It’s out of the question,” he snapped.

“Oh? Why?”

“You’re a young, unmarried lady. I’m a man. Need I say more?”

She arched a brow. “You’re planning on ravishing me, then?”

He drew a hand to his forehead and strove for patience. “I think you know that’s not what I meant.”

“It isn’t as if I haven’t been in your chamber once before.” She had the gall to grin.

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have been there.”

“You’re the one who invited—nay, demanded I follow you in.”

“That was because I thought you were a lad.” He spoke through clenched teeth.

She sniffed. “Very well. Where then?” She crossed her arms under her breasts, drawing his eyes to the hint of cleavage her demure bodice revealed. Her skirt jostled, and he heard a repetitive tap, tap, tap . Her evening slipper on the flooring? What cause did she have to be annoyed?

He crossed his arms over his chest, aping her stance.

Tap, tap, tap .

Jesus , she smelled good, and she stood close enough her perfect breasts practically brushed his forearms. Something hot and primal filled his veins. Irritated beyond measure—with himself or her, he could not say—he realized he either needed to kiss her or blast her. Very well.

He drew a mind-clearing breath. “It’s crossed my mind to wonder if…”

Blessedly, the tapping stopped.

“…If you might not think it would be easier if the engagement weren't a sham.”

Her unblinking green eyes narrowed. An image of a feral cat came to mind. “Go on.”

“I only want to keep things from turning ugly later, Kitty.”

The tip of her pink tongue darted out to touch on her upper lip. “Let me see if I understand you correctly.” She aimed a patently false smile at him. “You want to make sure I know you don’t wish to marry me.”

“Ah…” He wouldn’t have put it quite that bluntly.

“Allow me to ease your mind, my lord. I don’t wish to marry you. Indeed, you are the very last sort of man I wish to marry.”

He was impressed. She’d managed to communicate her ire without raising her voice above a whisper.

His mouth curved up at the corners. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You sound serious—as if you’ve given the matter thought. You’ve utterly relieved my mind.”

“My life is complete.”

Cheeky chit. He laughed aloud. “It’s none of my business, I know. But, out of curiosity—what are you looking for in a husband?”

Flames leaped in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, and he prepared for a thorough set-down.

“Good evening, Ezekiel, Lady Christine,” said his aunt from the doorway.

Kitty’s mouth snapped shut.

“Good evening, Aunt Lill. Looking elegant as always.”

Kitty shot him one last glare before aiming an angelic smile at his aunt.

The parlor clock chimed eight.

“Ladies, may I escort you in to dinner?”