One Night Of Scandal

Chapter Ten

D eb had arranged to meet Lord Scandal at the Customs House in Woodbridge that Wednesday afternoon. She had read in the paper that there would be an auction of smuggled goods held that day and it had struck her that the sale would provide the perfect circumstance for an assignation. There would be a great many people about, thereby providing security, yet once the initial contact was made it would be possible for her to step aside with Lord Scandal if she wished.

She had also taken the additional precaution of asking Ross to escort her to the sale so that she should not be alone when the contact was made. There was, however, one small difficulty. She had not told Ross the true purpose of their errand to Woodbridge for she had known that he would cut up rough about it. Now, however, they were approaching the rendezvous and she realised that the moment of truth had come.

‘Ross,’ she said, as her brother-in-law held open the Customs House door for her, ‘there is something that I should tell you.’ She hesitated, for Ross did not look very receptive. A black frown had settled on his forehead and he waited for her to continue with weary patience. Deb took the plunge. ‘You see, I particularly needed your escort today as I am meeting a gentleman here and I-’ She broke off as someone hushed her from inside the auction room. ‘I need to be sure that he is reliable…’

Deb slid into one of the seats at the back of the hall and pulled Ross down beside her.

The auction was in full swing, but the room was only half-full. The sale of items taken by the revenue usually drew quite a crowd, but seizure of smuggled goods had been light recently and there was no brandy on sale today so none of the town’s publicans had turned out. At the front of the hall sat the usual bunch of gawpers who always attended an auction but never bought anything. Further back sat a sprinkling of Woodbridge citizens including Mr Rumbold, who was a collector of items such as snuffboxes and jewellery.

Ross’s frown had not lightened whilst he waited for Deb to explain herself further. Now he started to whisper crossly in her ear.

‘Do I understand you to be saying that you have made an assignation with a gentleman, Deborah?’

‘Yes!’ Deb whispered back. ‘And just in case he is not trustworthy, I need you here to protect me-’

Ross muttered some imprecation, fortunately under his breath. ‘You mean that you have arranged to meet a stranger? What the devil are you about, Deborah?’

‘It is not as it seems,’ Deb hissed back. ‘Allow me to explain.’

‘By all means,’ Ross said, scowling.

The auctioneer pointed his gavel at them. ‘Sold to the gentleman!’

‘Now you have cost me five guineas,’ Ross complained, ‘and gained me a set of engraved glasses that I did not want.’

‘Oh, stop complaining,’ Deb grumbled. ‘Give them to Olivia-it would be nice for you to give her a present for once!’

She heard Ross give a bad-tempered sigh and was grateful that the progress of the auction prevented him from asking her any further questions. Explanations would simply have to wait until later. She felt a little guilty. She knew that she was taking advantage of Ross’s good nature. She should have told him more of the business first, instead of springing it on him at the last moment. But if she had done that, he would have forbidden her to attend and then she would have no chance of meeting Lord Scandal…

She sat bolt upright, clutching her reticule on her lap. Seldom had she felt so apprehensive. Lord Scandal might already be in the room. The thought made her feel breathless with nerves. She had come this far in her quest for a fiancé, but now she had a very strong urge to turn tail and flee. Had it not been for Ross’s reassuring if irritable presence beside her, she probably would have done so.

A hasty scan around the hall revealed that it was unlikely that Lord Scandal was already among them. The Tide Surveyor was sitting a little way away to her left, and next to him was Owen Chance, the Riding Officer whom Deb had met at Lady Sally Saltire’s ball. Mr Chance saw her glance in his direction and a smile lit his eyes. He inclined his head politely. Deb smiled back, although she thought it might have come out a little lopsidedly. Her nerves were not diminishing as she made an inventory of the people in the hall. In fact, they were increasing.

There were two ladies who had come in after Deb and Ross and were now sitting whispering through the auction, the plumes in their hats nodding as they gossiped. They could be discounted. Deb’s gaze moved on. The only gentleman in the room was Sir John Norton of Drybridge, who was currently bidding for another set of fine engraved wineglasses. Deb felt a clutch of horror. She hoped that Lord Scandal was not Sir John, for she did not care for him very much. How unconscionably embarrassing it would be to discover that her respondent was someone she already knew and did not like. That would be far worse than having to dismiss the application of a stranger.

The door opened behind her. Deb heard it but could not see anything, for she had just realised that she had chosen the worst possible place to sit to watch for anyone coming in. Her back was to the entrance and in order to see the door she would have to turn around and crane her neck. That would draw too much attention so she would simply have to sit tight and wait…

She tensed. There was a swirl of fresh air, a burst of sunlight, and then the door closed and the hall was quiet again, but for the drone of the auctioneer’s voice as he drove the price up on a packet of Dutch mantua silk. Deb sat still as a mouse, her nerves stretched to breaking. She could hear measured footsteps coming closer. She could see nothing, but she knew that someone was standing just behind her, and suddenly, disconcertingly, she could tell who it was.

The air stirred and then a voice she recognised very well said softly in her ear, ‘Lady Incognita, I presume? And with a stalwart chaperon! How do you do, ma’am? Shall we step outside and talk?’

Deb was mortified. She sat on the bench outside the Customs House and watched Ross and Richard Kestrel as they talked. They were some distance away, but she could follow the conversation fairly well by watching her brother-in-law’s expression. Ross was looking furious and Deb did not really blame him. It was doubly mortifying, however, that Richard was obliged to accept the censure that should by rights be vented upon her. Now she felt even more at a disadvantage.

Deb looked out across the River Deben and wondered why on earth she had never imagined that Lord Scandal and Lord Richard Kestrel could be one and the same.

It seemed so obvious now that she knew. Mrs Aintree had commented that his letter was arrogant, just like the man himself: arrogant, authoritative under that deceptively lazy air, and given to command. Deb remembered that she had even mused at one time that they might be one and the same person, and then she had dismissed the idea because she had thought that Lord Richard would never take the local newspaper, nor answer a chance-placed advertisement…

She glanced back at the gentlemen. Whatever it was that Richard was saying to Ross was evidently quite persuasive. Deb saw Ross’s forbidding expression ease slightly, saw him nod once, shake his head twice, and finally look in her direction. Richard shook hands with him and Ross, with one hard, backward glance at Deb, headed away up Quay Street. Deb took a deep breath as she watched Richard approach. Now that the moment-and Lord Scandal-was here, she did not really know what to do. She thought it best if they ended the interview as quickly as possible. Clearly it was impossible for her to appoint Lord Richard Kestrel as her temporary fiancé and the quicker the matter was settled the better.

Richard was standing before her. He took one look at her scarlet, mortified face and said, ‘Shall we walk a little, Mrs Stratton? Your brother-in-law has very kindly given us a half-hour together in which to discuss this matter.’

Deb took his arm, feeling slightly dazed. ‘What did you say to Ross?’ she asked. ‘I did not think that he would leave us alone.’

‘I said very little,’ Richard looked rueful. ‘Since I did not wish to betray your confidence and could not be sure whether you had told him about your advertisement, I made no mention of it. Instead I merely said that you and I had a matter to discuss and asked him to grant me a little time with you.’

Deb nodded. She felt even more distressed as she realised the extent to which Richard had most chivalrously drawn Ross’s fire away from her and to himself.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘You are welcome.’ Richard scanned her face. ‘I was assuming, of course, that you still wished to speak with me. If you have changed your mind, you need only say the word. Ross has gone to the gunsmith’s and we may meet him there.’

Deb hesitated. Richard waited. There was nothing in his face to sway her opinion, but even as she was poised on the edge of calling the whole thing off, she was surprised to feel a strong urge not to dismiss him. He was, after all, her only hope.

‘Perhaps,’ she said cautiously, ‘I could decide what to do once we have spoken.’

She saw a ghost of a smile touch Richard’s lips. ‘Of course,’ he said.

They walked a little way along the path, Richard waiting politely for her to take the initiative.

‘I should have guessed it was you, I suppose,’ Deb said wryly. ‘I cannot imagine why I did not. Probably-’ she stole a sideways look at her companion ‘-because I did not want to. Lord Scandal, indeed!’

Richard laughed. ‘I thought it peculiarly appropriate.’

‘No doubt it is. But it is not at all appropriate for the role that I had in mind.’ Deb sighed. ‘I knew all along that it was a poor idea, but it was the only thing that I could think to do.’

‘Why do you not tell me all about it?’ Richard asked encouragingly. ‘Since you do not have any alternative applicants to interview, Mrs Stratton, you might as well see if I would fit the bill.’

‘There is no possibility that you would be suitable-’ Deb broke off, looking at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Just a moment. You said that I do not have any alternative applicants. How would you know that? Did you know that I was the one who had placed the advertisement?’

Richard looked at her, brows raised quizzically. ‘I confess that I did.’

‘How? How could you possibly know that?’

Richard did not prevaricate. ‘I met with your gardener’s boy on the road, the morning that you placed your advertisement. I…happened to see the letter addressed to the Suffolk Chronicle, and when the advertisement came out I guessed that it was you.’

Deb regarded him stormily. Certain issues that had puzzled her were beginning to make more sense. ‘Oh! I do believe that you deliberately asked Mr Strawbridge to throw away any other letters addressed to Lady Incognita!’

Richard grinned. ‘You should be flattered, Mrs Stratton, that I wanted to help you so much that I was prepared to go to any lengths to do so.’

Deb gave a long, angry sigh. ‘Flattered? I am no such thing. For all I know there could have been a whole host of meek and helpful gentlemen prepared to offer me their assistance-’ She broke off as she heard Lord Richard’s unmistakable guffaw.

‘Meek and helpful?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘You are looking for a gentleman who is meek?’

‘Yes!’ Deb said, thoroughly ruffled now, ‘so you may see why you do not fit the bill at all!’

‘In that respect I should have to concur,’ Richard said, ‘but I am still anxious to offer you my aid, Mrs Stratton. Especially as I have denied you the chance of assistance from other gentlemen.’

Deb shook her head. She felt wretched. ‘There is no point in my relating the whole story to you, Lord Richard. No point at all. It was a stupid plan and now I shall simply have to reconsider.’

They were walking slowly along the path that wended its way beside the River Deben. The breeze off the river was cool but it did nothing to calm Deborah’s frantic thought processes. She could see no way out of the coil. She knew she would have to call off the plan she had made to hoodwink her father and come up with some other ideas. The only difficulty was that at present her mind was a complete blank.

‘I feel very guilty for preventing you from finding your meek and…er…helpful gentleman,’ Richard said presently, the quiver still in his voice. ‘Are you sure that I may not help you, Mrs Stratton?’

Deb looked at him. She felt hot and frustrated-frustrated because she could see no way out of her dilemma now and hot because merely looking at Lord Richard Kestrel seemed to have that effect on her. Had she been advertising for a lover, then she might be looking at the right man. She had to remember, however, that that was not the role she wished to fill.

‘No, Lord Richard,’ she said, ‘you may not help me. When I tell you that I was advertising for a temporary fiancé you will understand why.’

Not a muscle moved in Richard Kestrel’s face. Deb had to admire the coolness with which he took her announcement.

‘You require a fiancé?’ he queried.

‘No,’ Deb corrected, ‘I require a temporary fiancé. Now you may see why you would be the very worst person for the role.’

‘I do not see that at all.’ Richard sounded quite hurt. ‘Why am I not suitable?’

‘Why not?’ Deb looked at him closely, trying to work out if he was teasing her. The handsome face was quite impassive and she could not tell.

‘Where do I begin?’ She said. ‘I need someone who is biddable, reliable and-’

‘Meek?’ The betraying quiver of humour was back in Richard’s voice.

‘Precisely,’ Deb said. ‘You, on the other hand are reckless, dangerous and a rake.’

‘In your advertisement you asked for a man of honour, discretion and chivalry,’ Richard pointed out.

‘Yes?’

‘I possess all of those qualities.’

Deb bit her lip. ‘I do not believe so.’ She paused, feeling that this was a little harsh. ‘I suppose that you are discreet,’ she allowed. ‘You did not march into the Customs House and announce your business in front of everyone. And you were most chivalrous just now in drawing Ross’s anger away from me.’

‘Thank you,’ Lord Richard said ironically. ‘You do not seem so certain about my honourable qualities.’

‘Your behaviour to me has been far short of honourable,’ Deb pointed out. She remembered guiltily that she had entertained some decidedly dishonourable thoughts about him herself and had connived at his activities with a certain degree of enthusiasm. She did not wish to appear a hypocrite. She fidgeted.

‘A rake’s behaviour is by definition dishonourable,’ she amended.

‘Touché,’ Richard agreed. ‘It is, of course. But do you at least concede that I can behave with honour if I try?’

‘I have no notion.’ Deb gave a little shrug. ‘I should say, if pressed, that probably you could not. However, the question does not arise since you do not fulfil my other requirements.’

‘The…er…biddableness and the meekness?’

‘Indeed.’

Richard squared his shoulders. ‘No, I am certainly not that, and what is more, I should not even try.’

‘You would not do what I told you?’ Deb looked at him and decided that the question was pointless. Was this a man who would be obedient to a woman’s dictates? She thought not-unless they coincided with his own.

‘No, I would not do as I was told,’ Richard said, confirming her thoughts.

‘There, then.’ Deb spread her hands. ‘You are quite unsuitable to be my short-term fiancé.’

They had reached the place where the path narrowed and became a rough track leading down to Kyson Point. There was a seat in the sun, with a fine view across the river to the parish of Sutton beyond. Deb made to turn back, but Richard put out a hand to stop her.

‘Perhaps you could tell me a little about why you need a fiancé in the first place,’ he suggested. ‘Who knows, I may at least be able to provide an alternative suggestion to solve your difficulties. May we sit? I find perambulation unsuited to serious conversation.’

Deb looked at him suspiciously. ‘Are you seeking to make fun of me?’

Richard looked hurt. ‘Not the least in the world! No sane person advertises for a temporary fiancé unless they have a very powerful reason to do so.’ He gave her a smile. ‘I can testify that you are not insane, Mrs Stratton, therefore you must have your reasons. I confess that I am keen to discover them.’

Deb frowned. On the one hand Lord Richard Kestrel was hardly the person she would have chosen as a confidante, for such a role seemed too intimate. The previous time they had met, they had exchanged confidences that had made her feel very vulnerable. To open her heart to him again was surely a mistake. But on the other hand he spoke a great deal of sense and she was in a tight corner now. If he had any proposals that might solve the problem, then she wanted to hear them. After a moment she sat down and opened her parasol to shade her both from the bright sunlight and Lord Richard’s perceptive gaze. He waited patiently and after a moment Deb started her story.

‘I require a temporary fiancé because I have told my father that I am engaged to be married,’ she said. ‘We are to return home for my brother’s wedding in less than two months and Papa has commanded that I bring my betrothed with me.’ She picked at the seam of her gloves. ‘I am in the suds because I pretended to be engaged when I was no such thing. Papa was demanding that I return to live in Bath and I could not bear to do so-’ Once she had started, she found that the whole foolish tale tumbled out. She told Richard of her father’s concerns about the dangers of invasion in Suffolk, of his desire to see her living back at Walton Hall and his determination to promote the match she had rejected when she eloped with Neil Stratton. On the one hand she was mortified to be exposing her folly to Richard Kestrel, but on the other it was oddly soothing to talk to him. To her surprise, she found that he was a good listener. He did not interrupt and only asked a few questions for clarification.

‘I can perfectly comprehend,’ he said as she finished, ‘why you feel you cannot return to live under your parents roof after three years away. If Lord Walton plans to arrange a match-’

Deb shuddered and he broke off, covering her hand briefly with one of his. His voice had dropped. ‘You would not feel able to marry your cousin Harry, I assume?’

‘No,’ Deb said wretchedly. She tried to keep the pain from her voice, but could not quite succeed. ‘There is nothing wrong with Harry, my lord, other than the fact that we could never be happy together. I may sound selfish, but I have already made one improvident match in my life and have no wish to be miserable a second time.’

She glanced at Richard’s face and saw that he was watching her with both shrewdness and sympathy, and she gave him a shamefaced smile.

‘I am sorry that your first choice was so unhappy,’ he said.

‘I…’ Deb blushed and looked away from his searching gaze. She did not feel comfortable revealing too much to him. ‘I thought that I was in love with Neil,’ she said, with difficulty. ‘It was only on mature reflection that I realised that I had been rather hasty.’

‘You were only married a short time, were you not?’ Richard asked.

Deb nodded. ‘We had five weeks together before he was posted abroad and he died of a fever two months later.’

‘Those five weeks must have been quite dreadful to have left you with such harsh memories,’ Richard said. Deb could sense his eyes upon her, but she did not look up. She could not. All her bitterness and misery had fused into a tight pain in her chest and she could not speak.

After a moment, Richard sighed and said, ‘Forgive me. I realise that you do not wish to speak of it.’

Deb shook her head dumbly. She did not wish to say any more whilst her feelings were in such confusion. She knew that she could not countenance losing her relative independence by returning to Bath, and that another marriage was quite out of the question after the fiasco that had been her first. Making a business arrangement to employ a temporary fiancé had seemed a relatively safe way to thwart her father’s plans and maintain her independent existence.

Yet now that had become far more complicated. The only candidate for the role of fiancé was a man to whom she was drawn by intense feelings that she did not understand and could barely accept. Until her recent wayward thoughts on the subject of taking a lover, she had imagined that she did not wish for male companionship at all. Her attraction to Richard Kestrel had given the lie to that and, though Olivia had made her see that there was nothing unnatural in such feelings, she was still on edge and uncertain what to do. To confide in him now brought a new level of intimacy to their relationship. To accept him as her fiancé, albeit temporarily, would draw them even closer.

‘I am not quite sure how we came to discussing this topic,’ she said, striving for an even tone. ‘What I require is a fiancé acceptable to both myself and my family or-’ she looked at Richard ‘-some other alternative. Perhaps you can help me there?’

Richard shrugged. ‘I can see no alternative.’ He smiled. ‘Fortunately the solution is close at hand. I will be your temporary fiancé.’

Deb jumped up in agitation. ‘I have already told you, my lord. It is quite impossible for you to fulfil the role!’

Richard got to his feet. ‘It is not so foolish. Think for a moment, Mrs Stratton! What could be more acceptable to your family than a betrothal to man who is already an acquaintance of long standing-and a friend to your brother-in-law? It is far more credible than that you produce some stranger for approval, like a magician whipping a rabbit out of a hat. No one would be taken in by that!’

Deb bit her lip. His logic so far was faultless. ‘I cannot believe that my family would approve of you,’ she said slowly. ‘Your reputation precedes you.’

Richard did not seem unduly perturbed. ‘There is not a matchmaking mother on earth,’ he said cynically, ‘who cannot overlook a rake’s reputation if he is rich and titled.’

Deb could not argue with that either, although she tried. ‘I cannot believe that Papa would be so sanguine,’ she said.

‘Oh, he will,’ Richard said, the cynical light still in his eyes. ‘I guarantee it.’

Deb pressed the palms of her hands together. ‘Then there is Liv and Ross. They would never believe that ours was a genuine betrothal. I have told Liv-’ She broke off, biting her lip. She could hardly repeat to him the conversation that she had had with her sister.

‘I told Olivia that I wanted to take you as a lover not a husband’ would start them on an entirely different conversation, and one that would be even more perilous. Which was what made it madness even to consider Lord Richard Kestrel in the role of her fiancé. She was already far too susceptible to his charms as it was.

Richard took her hand. He smiled a little. ‘You have told your sister that you think me a reprobate and want nothing to do with me?’

Deb blushed. ‘Not precisely, but those are the sentiments I should be holding.’

‘Ross would very likely call me out if he knew what we planned.’ Richard’s smile turned rueful. ‘However, I think that it would still probably be worth it.’

Deb did not miss his use of the word ‘we’. Her heart skipped a beat. It seemed that the betrothal plan was suddenly moving rather swiftly.

‘I am persuaded that you are correct,’ she said. ‘Ross may be a friend of yours, but he would never countenance our betrothal, nor the deceit involved in misleading my father.’ She freed herself from his grip, ‘Oh, I wish I had never started this! There must be a dozen reasons why it would never work. You will not do, my lord. I wanted someone deferential. You are too…too forceful and too high-handed…’

She turned away. There was far more to it than that, of course. There was something about Richard Kestrel that made her respond on the most instinctive and feminine of levels, something male and dangerous. To accept him as her fiancé, temporary or not, to agree to spend more time with him, to allow him insidiously to grow closer to her…These were all such foolish ideas that she had to put a stop to them now.

Richard was standing close to her, unnervingly close. ‘I think that we are approaching the crux of the problem,’ he said softly. ‘Your other protestations could be overcome. You are using them as a distraction. What you really object to is me personally. Why is that, Mrs Stratton?’

He was so near to her that Deb felt utterly overwhelmed. She made a slight, nervous gesture. ‘I have already told you the answer to that, my lord. You are the opposite of all the qualities that I require in a fiancé, temporary or otherwise! You are also an untrustworthy rogue.’

Richard caught her wildly waving hands. ‘You object to me because you are attracted to me,’ he said.

Deb gasped. ‘You go too far, my lord.’

‘Frequently. It is true, though, is it not?’

‘I do not feel comfortable with you,’ Deb prevaricated. ‘It would be ridiculous to try to convince anyone that I was betrothed to you when I feel so ill at ease in your company.’

‘We could overcome that,’ Richard said, ‘if you could trust me.’

Deb’s heart jumped. A part of her, a deeply instinctive part, wanted to do just that. It was extraordinary. Her head was telling her that she was making a mistake but her intuition was telling her that she could depend on him.

He leaned closer to her. ‘Deborah-’ she caught her breath at his use of her name ‘-my impression is that you are accustomed to living alone and relying on your own resources, but that, in this one matter, you need some help.’ His gaze trapped and held hers. ‘Why else come up with this unorthodox solution to your difficulties? It might go against the grain with you, but you need a strong man who can protect you, not someone meek or compliant. Whilst I am with you, you will be safe. I swear it.’

Deb stared into his dark eyes. The vision was so seductive. Her father had never offered to protect her, and neither had Neil Stratton in the short time that she had known him. Rather the reverse, in fact, for he had done everything in his power to ruin her. And now Richard Kestrel was offering her his protection. She wanted to accept it, and everything that it entailed. She struggled against the temptation.

‘Ross will help me-’ she began.

Richard shook his head. ‘Ross cannot prevent your father from forcing you to stay in Bath, nor can he prevent him marrying you off if he so chooses. I can.’

Deb closed her eyes. She knew that he was right. If she arrived at Walton Hall with some nonentity of a man or, worse still, alone, there would be no one to stand between her and a betrothal to her cousin.

‘Papa is not cruel,’ she said, thinking of her father and wanting Richard to understand. ‘It is merely that he is not accustomed to opposition and he wants to see me safely married off. None of the others-Liv, Michael, Guy-has ever done anything to thwart him…’

‘You do not need to explain to me,’ Richard said swiftly. ‘I understand.’ He smiled at her. ‘Is it agreed, then? Are we betrothed?’

Deb looked at him. Betrothed to Lord Richard Kestrel. She was not sure if she was mad or dreaming.

‘We are betrothed,’ she confirmed, adding hastily, ‘temporarily.’

Richard’s smile made her feel warm deep in her bones. ‘Temporarily,’ he said. ‘Of course. May I kiss my fiancée?’

‘No!’ Deb said. She felt a little panicked. ‘Before we go any further, my lord, there are a number of conditions I should like to clarify.’

‘Of course.’ Richard sat down on the bench again and drew her down beside him. He sounded obliging, but Deb had the impression that her difficulties might start right here.

‘There is to be no kissing or intimate behaviour,’ she said, ‘unless-’ She stopped, appalled at the way her thoughts had almost run away with her tongue again.

Richard was looking very interested. ‘Unless?’ he queried softly.

Deb fidgeted. ‘I was going to say…unless we are required to give each other a chaste kiss on the cheek to maintain the fiction.’

‘You were not going to say that,’ Richard said. ‘You were going to say something along the lines of unless you change your mind.’

Deb stared at him, shocked by his perception. Did she wear her emotions on her face, that he was able to read her so easily? Or was it that he was so instinctively attuned to what she was thinking that he knew it almost before she did? Either way it was not a reassuring thought.

‘I have other conditions,’ she said, thinking it safer to ignore his remark. She saw him raise his brows sardonically, as though he were prepared to let it pass-for now.

‘Please continue,’ he said.

‘You must be guided by me.’ Deb looked at him. Even as she spoke she could sense his instinctive resistance. This man would make his own decisions. He might be influenced, but he could never be coerced. She moderated her tone. ‘I hope that you will defer to me on all matters relating to my family, where I have the greater knowledge.’

This time he nodded, to her immense relief. ‘That seems sensible.’

Deb took a careful breath. ‘It is also to be understood that our engagement lasts only for the duration of the visit to Bath. After that, it is over.’

This time Richard laughed. ‘We shall see,’ he said.

Deb shot him a suspicious look. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You might find that by then that you do not wish our engagement to be at an end,’ Richard pointed out.

His arrogance took Deb’s breath away.

‘I do not think that there is any likelihood of that,’ she said stiffly.

Richard shrugged, as though he knew better. Deb’s temper fizzed. Taken all in all, the response to her conditions had not been all that she would have wished.

‘I have some prerequisites of my own,’ Richard said. ‘I will escort you back to Ross now and I shall call on you tomorrow to discuss this further.’ He did not wait for her reply. ‘We are to announce our engagement immediately after that. And we are to spend the next few weeks furthering our acquaintance, so that when we travel to Bath, no one will be in any doubt that we are genuinely in love.’

Deb stared. She had not been expecting this.

‘I cannot accept that,’ she said, her throat tight. ‘There is no requirement for us to appear to be in love! Marriages are made for plenty of other reasons.’

‘Not this one,’ Richard said.

‘Why not?’

Richard held her gaze. ‘Because it is important that you convince people you are in earnest. Your father might well force you to break the engagement if he senses you are halfhearted about it.’ He took her hand. ‘Trust me. It will not be so bad, Deborah.’

‘What, to pretend to be in love with you?’ Deb felt extremely hot and bothered. She scrambled to her feet to put some distance between them. ‘It is impossible that I should do such a thing!’

An expression crossed Richard’s face, so fleeting she wondered if she had imagined it and when he spoke there was nothing but faint amusement in his voice.

‘Why so?’

‘Because I…’ Deb flailed around as she tried to explain herself. ‘It is dangerous…’

‘In what way?’

Deb could see the trap yawning at her feet. She prevaricated. ‘I am not very good at acting.’

‘Then do not act,’ Richard said. ‘I am sure we may be convincing, nevertheless.’ He got up in a leisurely fashion and, before Deb could move, his arms went about her and his lips came down on hers in an embrace that, despite its brevity, lit a sharp flame all the way through her body.

He let her go a second later. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, amusement in his voice. ‘I could never keep any promise not to touch you, Deborah, though I do swear not to do anything that you do not want.’ He stepped back. ‘The decision must be yours. If you can accept me on my terms…then I am yours to command.’

Deb’s heart was beating rapidly. Although her mind was telling her that she was about to commit another impulsive act of folly, she knew her decision was already made. She had no real choice.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I accept your offer and I thank you for helping me, my lord.’

Richard’s transforming smile took her breath away. ‘Then you are welcome, Deborah. Do you think that you might call me Richard, though? You will give the game away if you persist in addressing me as “my lord”.’

Deb nodded. ‘I can try. It feels…unfamiliar.’ It was not the only thing that felt strange. The whole situation felt shaky and perilous. She was conscious of Richard watching her, a slight frown on his brow.

‘Is something else troubling you, Deborah? You seem very tense.’

Deb hesitated. ‘I feel very nervous,’ she said.

‘Of me?’ Richard’s expression was unreadable.

‘Of our situation.’ Deb’s gaze faltered as it met his. ‘I know that I should not say this,’ she said. ‘It is scarce modest in me, but I cannot be coy…’

Her voice wavered at the tenderness she saw come in to Richard’s face. He waited.

‘You were correct before,’ she said, in a rush. ‘I wish to keep my distance from you because I like you. I told you when we met here by the river-’ Her breath caught. ‘I like you, Richard Kestrel, but you are dangerous to me and this masquerade of ours…’ her gaze touched his ‘…this just makes you more dangerous still. I must be monstrous foolish to allow you so close when you have a reputation for being the greatest rake between here and London and when it seems…’ she sighed ‘…it seems that I cannot resist you.’

Once again she saw the flare of emotion in his eyes and felt her heart rate increase by several notches. What might have happened she could not say, but then Richard turned his head sharply, and over his shoulder she saw that Ross was approaching.

‘A reprieve,’ Richard said as he took her hand. ‘Ross is coming to rescue you.’

Deb shrank. She wondered just how much Ross had seen of their recent encounter. ‘I had no notion our half-hour had expired.’ Her hand clung to his. ‘I do not quite know what to tell him about this.’

Richard kissed her fingers. ‘I shall speak to him tonight. And I shall call upon you tomorrow.’ He smiled at her. ‘Good day, Deborah.’

Feeling strangely shaky, Deb watched him go. He shook hands with Ross, exchanged a few words and then strode away. Deb watched his tall figure out of sight. She knew that she had a tiger by the tail now. From the moment that she had agreed to the betrothal she had lost control of the situation. She had gained a fiancé, but not the type of man that she had wanted in the role. She was obliged to admit that it was quite another service that she wished Richard Kestrel to perform for her, and that brief but passionate kiss had confirmed it. No precepts of modesty of respectability could hide the truth. The principles that had kept her life so barren of love were crumbling. She wanted a rake. She wanted Richard to be her lover and she was not at all sure how long common sense and propriety could govern her actions.