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no idea of what she was missing.

She had never been to London, never danced until the wee small hours at a glittering ball in the arms of a succession of handsome blades, never attended the Opera, Covent Garden, Drury Lane, Almack’s. She had seen death, far too much of it, but never experienced the sort of life which London and his grandmother could offer her. She could have a splendid future; if brutal words were what it took to get her to London, then he would speak them.

“I am no exception. I may be a disfigured cripple—” Kate flinched at the raw self-hate in his voice ”—but I am still a man, with a man’s needs.” He paused to let his words sink in. “And it has been a long time since I had a woman, Kate. A very long time. And that is what. . .this is. That’s all it is. Do you understand me? I would never have touched you, never have kissed you, but I was drunk and it has been too long since I had a woman and I got carried away.” He turned away from her so he wouldn’t have to look at her face.

Kate stared at the cloth in her hand and slowly crumpled it. She began to polish the shelf nearest to her. He had to be drunk to wish to touch her? That was what he was telling her? She was any woman to him? A mere available female? The words were harsh, biting, but, she eventually realised, they hadn’t upset her as much as they should have.

Because, deep down, she didn’t believe him.

If it was an available female he wanted, then why hadn’t he bothered Millie or Florence? Or the barmaid at the tavern he frequented—from all accounts she was no better than she ought to be. No, whatever Jack Carstairs thought of her, it wasn’t as any available female. And it wasn’t the fault of his drinking either—all that did was exacerbate the problem.

“You will make the preparations necessary to go to London at the end of the week.” His words seemed to come from a long way away.

Kate stopped her mindless polishing. “No, I won’t,” she said over her shoulder. She had no intention of running the gauntlet of London society. Not while she had a choice. And besides, she had made a promise to his grandmother.

He was incredulous. “Did I hear you say no?”

“You did,” she answered quietly. “I have no intention of leaving.”

“Have you no sense, woman?” he growled. “After what I just told you? You intend to stay? And risk being ruined?”

Her lips twisted ironically and she folded the dustcloth into a hard little package. Could one be ruined twice? It was a moot point.

“Didn’t you hear what I said, you foolish chit?” He grabbed her shoulder and swung her around to face him. “You risk losing your virtue by staying here! What the devil is the matter with you?”

She wrenched herself out of his hard grasp and stood there, smoothing down her skirt like a bird who had just escaped a cat.

His eyes narrowed and his face hardened. “Perhaps that is your plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seduce me and try to trap me into marriage,” he said slowly.

“Seduce you?” she gasped indignantly.

“Isn’t that what has been happening here? No doubt my grandmother’s cunning claw is somewhere in the plot too.” He laughed harshly. “Yes, I’m sure it is. No doubt you two planned it nicely between you.”

“How dare you?”

He ignored her and continued. “Oh, God, what a fool I’ve been. It’s as plain as the nose on my face. My grandmother, concerned I may never marry, now that my betrothal to Julia is at an end, appears out of nowhere. She dumps poor little lost Kate on me, hoping I will conveniently scoop her up and make her mine, thus dealing with two problems at once. Ha!” He glared at her. “Only it won’t work, for I’m wise to your plot. You’ll not trap me so easily, Miss Farleigh; I have no intention of wedding you.”

“And I have absolutely no intention of wedding you either, Mr Carstairs!” Kate’s temper had her firmly in its grip by now. “I would never, ever stoop to such a shabby plot and you have a. . .a colossal impertinence suggesting such a thing. It’s utterly preposterous and I demand an apology at once—for me and for your grandmother too, for I am sure she would never scheme so sordidly!”

“Not sordidly, I agree; incessantly is a far better word.”

Kate ignored his interjection. “And how dare you accuse me of trying to seduce you? It is you who have been grabbing and manhandling me, ever since I got here, plaguing me continually, when all I have tried to do is to get this house in order,” she finished virtuously, if inaccurately.

“Oh, so I’ve been plaguing and manhandling you, have I? And who was it who accosted me in my room in the middle of the night?”

Kate stamped her foot. “I did no such thing! How dare you even suggest it?”

“The upstairs parlour, then. And you came slinking in, knowing I was three sheets to the wind, and proceeded to seduce me.”

“I did not slink! I never slink!” Kate spat. “And you were not ‘three sheets to the wind’, as you so poetically put it, you were drunk! A sot! And if you imagine I was trying to seduce you by removing that poison you were swilling, then you have a very odd idea of what is seductive and no wonder this Julia, whoever she was, jilted you!”

“Leave her out of this,” he snarled.

“Gladly.” Kate tossed her head, wishing she knew more about his erstwhile fiancee.

“And these so-called manhandling habits you apparently object to so much—I haven’t exactly noticed you valiantly resisting them. And I seem to recall myself calling a halt to proceedings each time, not you.”

Kate, blushing furiously, could think of no adequate reply. Of course she hadn’t called a halt

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