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Ever since that day, she’d tempted him with all the weapons at her disposal. She laughed at his paltry jokes. She brushed up against him every chance she got. She made sure to sit next to him at dinner so she could lean close to whisper witty or engaging comments about the food or the conversation that made him laugh in spite of everything. Worse yet, it allowed her delicious citrusy scent to waft over him until he couldn’t breathe without wanting her.

Sometimes she was downright outrageous in her temptations. She lifted her skirts rather higher than necessary to climb the stairs ahead of him, treating him to the awe-inspiring sight of her trim ankles and a part of her shapely calves. It made his mind wander in the ungentlemanly path of what it would be like smoothing his hands up her endless, stocking-clad legs to where the stockings ended and the soft skin was bared, so he could plunder what lay between those delightful thighs.

Her greatest triumph had come today … and wasn’t even really hers! His mother had decided that Eve, Lady Archer, and James should all stay here tonight, since the charitable auction was tomorrow evening and there was still so much left to do to prepare.

So, now that he was in bed, he was facing a night full of tossing and turning, of imagining her in her nightdress in the room upstairs, practically right above his own bedchamber. It had been Natalie’s at one time, which is probably why Mother had put her there, but still it was too close for his comfort.

He fancied he could hear Eve moving about, and it drove him mad. It was nearly midnight, and he still hadn’t managed to fall asleep. With a curse, he left his bed to put a banyan on over the smallclothes he wore to bed, then headed for the door that led to his adjoining study, hoping to find some boring tome that would put him to sleep.

But when he walked in, it was to find Eve herself leaning over his desk in a flimsy nightdress and wrapper that left very little to the imagination.

He shut the door behind him, making her jump and whirl around. She blushed bright red and for a moment he wondered if that blush extended beneath her clothes.

Then she found her voice. “Wh-what are you doing here, Noel?”

“It’s my study.” He lifted an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?” Aside from making me want to throw you down on my desk and ravish you.

“I-I embroidered something as a little thank-you for all you’ve done for me and my family. I was just writing a note to go with it …” She held up an embroidered loop that had a tiny bell on one end of it. “You can put the loop around the fold of your wallet so that even the most accomplished thief can’t get it out of your pocket without ringing the bell.”

As she handed it to him, he couldn’t help laughing. “Now, that is ingenious. Where did you get the bell?”

“From your mother’s box of unused items.”

“Ah. Well, thank you.” He smiled, amazed that she’d managed not only to give him something useful, but something unique to their … friendship? Could he even call it that? It felt like so much more. “But you didn’t need to go to all that trouble.”

“It was no trouble.” She started to pass him, headed for the door to the hall, when he stepped into her path.

As her gaze shot to him, he said, “I’m glad you’re here. I … er … wanted to wish you good luck for the competition. In case I didn’t get the chance to say it tomorrow.”

She gazed at him steadily. “And are you next going to go wish your true love good luck? Your mother showed me the list of ladies submitting to the competition, and Lady Margaret’s name was on it.”

“Margaret is not my true love, as you well know,” he said irritably.

“You picked her over me and you intend to marry her, so as far as I’m concerned, she’s your true love. The result is the same, is it not? You’ll be with her, and I’ll still be alone.”

Annoyed by that apt description, he glared at her. “You will never understand why I want a boring, commonplace marriage, will you? You don’t know what it’s like to watch your world be shattered repeatedly, then have to pick up the pieces of your broken heart and try to put them back together every time.”

He knew he’d said the wrong thing when a scowl knit her brow, and she narrowed her gaze on him. “I don’t know? I don’t know??” She began to pace in front of him. “Perhaps I should remind you that against my will, I spent half my life in France in a détenu camp at the whim of a cursed tyrant. Then my father died, and as a consequence, I lost most of my future prospects and all of my former London friends. I returned to find that I’d even lost Natalie forever.”

She halted in front of him, her anger evident in every rigid line of her face. “I’ve had to live in a place that constantly aggravates my asthma, watch my beloved stepmother suffer and my beloved half brother turn himself into a pickpocket, all while not being able to do a thing about it!”

He could only stare at her, taken off guard by her fit of temper, not to mention the truth behind her words. He’d driven her to that with his thoughtless remarks, which he now fervently wished he could take back.

She poked him in the chest with her finger. “So, yes, I know precisely what it’s like to watch my world be ‘shattered repeatedly’ and have my heart broken into pieces, you … you pompous, unfeeling wretch!”

Then, to his horror, she burst into tears.

Oh, God, he’d made her cry! He’d caused it with his stupid, heedless comments, by being exactly what she’d accused him of— an unfeeling wretch.

Pulling her close, he tried to soothe her, but apparently that only made matters worse. So, when she shoved him away and headed for the door, he scooped her up in his arms and sat down in the nearest chair with her in his lap.

“Please don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair. “I can’t bear it.”

“Then … then g-go away!”

“I can’t,” he murmured. “I can’t leave you hurting like this. Shh, shh, dearling. Don’t go on so. You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good!” she muttered. “You d-deserve to have your h-heart broken, you … you … scoundrel!”