They entered, Violet and his mother turning to greet them, but there was only one face he wanted to see—just a glimpse—before speaking to anyone.

  Then his heart stopped.

  There she stood, her arm looped through the arm of an unknown gentleman. His hackles rose, his lip curling into a snarl. He immediately wiped his face and resumed his bored expression, but his hands fisted at his sides.

  His mother made the introductions. Roderick was surprised to see Anne’s father; the half-wit was in town at last. And finally, introductions reached the strange man.

  “I present Mr. Hart,” Mr. Marsden said. “He’s a professor.”

  “How do you do?” Violet asked.

  Roderick hated her cheery tone. Did she not understand he was the enemy? What his presence meant? Mr. Marsden had brought home an unwed man to his daughters. As the eldest, Anne was first on the chopping block.

  Roderick folded his arms, no longer caring how he appeared to his guests. And throughout everything, Anne had not glanced at him at once. It was enough to drive him mad.

  Chester came to his side and bent close. “What in God’s name are you scowling about?”

  “I don’t like him. Who is this bounder? How could you let him near Bernie and her sisters?”

  Chester looked taken aback. “I beg your pardon?” He pulled Roderick away from the group. “What the devil do you mean?”

  “Mr. Hart is clearly up to no good.”

  Chester looked between Roderick and Mr. Hart. “Are we seeing the same man?”

  “Are you blind? Have you been too busy playing nursemaid that you’ve lost your instinct? That man is a skirt-chasing scoundrel.”

  “Do you hear yourself? That’s how I describe you.”

  Roderick scowled. Weirick and Violet appeared at their side.

  “What the devil is wrong?” Weirick asked.

  “Roderick thinks very lowly of Mr. Hart,” Chester said with a grin.

  “What? Why?” Violet asked then her face blanked. “Oh.” She put her hand on Roderick’s shoulder. “Oh…” She repeated sadly.

  “Would you care to inform the rest of us?” Weirick asked his wife.

  Roderick held her gaze, and she shook her head. “No,” she said and then grinned at her husband.

  He rolled his eyes. “I can get it out of you later.”

  “Well then,” Chester broke in, “why don’t we join the others and you”—he glared at Roderick—“behave.”

  “I’m not Bernadette. You can’t tell me what to do,” Roderick snarled back.

  Violet patted Roderick’s shoulder. “I will speak to him. Both of you can go find your seats at the table. We’ll join you in a moment.”

  Chester and Weirick grudgingly left, and Violet turned to Roderick.

  “What is it you’re afraid of?”

  “She hates me and she’s going to marry him.”

  “Have you told her how you feel?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why not?”

  He folded his arms. “She hates me.”

  “And that isn’t going to change by acting like this. Nothing will change her mind about you if you continue as you always have done. Be kinder, smile more, show her you have more to you than your devil-may-care attitude. I know who you are underneath your façade, but she doesn’t. You could win her over easily if you but only tried to be your best.”

  Roderick wanted to snarl again, but Violet was the only one who knew his true feelings for Anne. He knew she would help him if he asked.

  “I want to have a house party to find matches for all of them, but more importantly, I need to be alone with Anne.”

  Violet folded her arms and sighed. “If you’re anything like your brother, you intend to seduce her. I can’t—”

  “Do you think that would work? Will you help me?” he asked eagerly.

  “Roderick! No! I can’t help you seduce her. Are you mad?”

  “Quite. I dream of her at night, I think of her all day long—it’s a perpetual state of arousal I can’t satisfy. Help me, Violet. You’re my only hope.”

  She dropped her arms, her expression mortified. “Dear God, you have lost your mind.”

  “I have, and I will only find sanity if I can speak to her. I promise I won’t seduce her today, but I must speak to her, and you must dissuade her from whatever arrangements have been made with that man.”

  “That man is Mr. Hart, and he seems quite amiable. It would be a good match.”

  He went rigid and very nearly stomped his foot like a child.

  “If I knew you didn’t love her, I’d support it, but because you’re my brother and you do love her…”

  He’d never said such a thing aloud. He was in love with her—with every fiber of her being, even the ones that despised him.

  “I do love her, like the flower loves the sun. I cannot help but turn to her when she shines, taking in whatever I can have of her. But it is no longer enough to be near her. I need her. I want her. Her heart, her thoughts, her sighs, her touch, her—”

  “Stop.” Violet grinned and covered her cheeks with her hands. “You are the very definition of waxing poetic.”

  Roderick rolled his eyes, feeling at once bashful. Prickling heat climbed the back of his neck as he looked away from Violet. He didn’t mean to spout off his feelings like that, but they erupted from him. He was now the epitome of a lovesick fool.

  “Violet, please.”

  She was giggling now. He was not above begging. He was not above anything, really.

  “Oh, all right. I will help you. But—your intentions are honorable, yes?”

  “Of course. I’d marry her today if she’d have me.”

  “Good. Now we must head into luncheon, and I will create the opportunity to leave you and Anne alone.”

  “Bernie cannot know. She would not help.”

  Violet sighed despondently. “I know. I don’t like keeping secrets from friends, but for now it is necessary.”

  He grabbed her hand just before they exited the parlor. “Thank you.”

  She surprised him with a hug. “You are very welcome.”

  Chapter 13

  Anne’s cheeks hurt from all her forced smiling. She’d never had to charm anyone before now, and it was dreadfully tiresome. It didn’t help that Mr. Hart was far from charmed. He was distant, though he did display all the manners of a gentleman. He pulled out her chair, offered his arm, but there was no warmth in his actions.

  And worse, Violet and Roderick had been absent together for some time at the start of their meal.

  Weirick had not seemed bothered by his wife’s and his brother’s absence, but it had needled Anne to no end, the seconds passing like minutes until—at last—they returned. She tried to appear unaffected, but her emotions had their own agenda, and her eyes had misted over as she pretended to nibble a cucumber sandwich that smelled terrible. Everyone else enjoyed the food, but Anne held her breath every time she brought the sandwich close to her nose and pretended to take a bite.

  She finally gave up and abandoned the effort.

  When she looked up again to survey whether anyone had noticed her behavior, she was caught by Roderick’s gaze. The blue green of his eyes glowed, picking up rays of light from the cheery sun shining through the windows. His eyes sparkled like gems, and she couldn’t look away.

  His unrelenting gazed caused warmth to spread over her skin and sink deep inside her. Her nerve endings came alive, tingling and dancing along her skin. She tore her gaze away. The tears that had plagued her before were gone now, and a wave of longing and arousal crashed inside her so savagely that she had to squeeze her thighs together. She bit her lip to keep herself from moaning aloud.

  How did he do it? How did he affect her like this with only a look?

  She needed to escape and find her bearings and a cool cloth to wipe her brow.

  Violet stood and announced they should all walk the grounds with Mr. Hart. Anne used the moment to excuse herself to the ladies retiring room, which wasn’t a total lie. She required frequent visits to the chamber pot these days anyway. Bernie cast her a strange look as they passed each other, and Anne feigned a smile and nodded in reassurance.

  Then, she was blessedly alone. She used the water closet and took her time finding the others. She didn’t want to return, not if Roderick was still with them. She didn’t know why he’d been looking at her in such a way. His eyes… They’d been so focused on her, so…hungry, she might say. She couldn’t recall him looking at her so powerfully, except when she’d found him in the garden.

  And we made love.

  She cursed herself. She shouldn’t think like that anymore. He’d made it clear he didn’t remember or give a damn that he had kissed her before that. It was just a typical day for him, kissing women at balls, trysts in gardens.

  Anne went to the window at the end of the hall. It was above the tiered garden walk that overlooked the ocean. A cluster of people stood at the railing admiring the view. Her father, Weirick, the dowager duchess, Violet, Bernie and Chester, Mr. Hart, and—where was Roderick?

  Probably having a drink in the billiard room.

  Anne turned away and ran nose first into a wall of chest, a stiff white cravat nearly blinding her.

  She backed up against the window, and Roderick half smiled at her.

  “Nowhere to run.”

  Anne straightened her spine. “Why would I run? I’m not afraid of you.”

  “No. You’ve no need to be. You can handle yourself.”

  “Exactly. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She stepped forward, expecting him to move.

  He didn’t. And now they were toe to toe.

  “You don’t want to return to him, do you?”

  “Him?” No, I don’t.

  “Have you already forgotten his name? I would have too. Dreadfully boring, he seems.”

  “He is not,” she lied.

  He folded his arms, almost brushing them across her bodice, and her nipple puckered at the barest hint of a touch. She wanted to press her whole body against him and the effort not to do it nearly hurt.

  “What is it you want, Roderick?”

  “You could never love him.”

  She sucked in a breath. “What would you know about love?” she asked in return, her voice hard. Good. He could never know how she longed to be wrapped in his arms again.

  “I watched my brother succumb to it. And I’ve watched couples who lack it.”

  “Succumb, like an illness?”

  “It is. A lasting affliction.”

  “You don’t sound like you have any”—she almost said desire but stopped herself—“inclination toward the state.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He surprised her. She took a measured breath and lifted her chin, which only brought their faces closer together and immediately filled her head with visions of him leaning down and kissing her.

  And she wanted him to do it, blast it. She licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her heart kicked into a frantic beat.

  He glanced past her, and just when she thought he’d turn away, he set his hand on her arm, as if to move her aside so he could step closer to the window. Then he abruptly turned her, backing her to the wall and flicking the curtain closed, so it concealed them beside the window.

  Her pulse was audible in her ears as he stared down at her and drew ever closer.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Never.”

  “Good.”

  He swooped down, and Anne tensed. She should fight this, but she only wanted to kiss him back. His lips touched hers, and she couldn’t stop the moan of relief that escaped her. Their bodies collided, his knee wedged between her thighs.

  Anne shuddered. His thigh pressed against the apex of her thighs. Instantly her knees buckled, and a wave of pure euphoria ripped through her.

  Another moan erupted from her, long and undulating like a soft aria of release. He broke the kiss, panting.

  “Jesus, Anne. Did you come?”

  She didn’t understand what he was asking so she remained silent, sucking in short breaths into her tight lungs.

  She leaned on him for support and closed her eyes. He fumbled with her skirts, and she tried to find the will to protest but truly didn’t want to. Her body was filled with liquid heaven and even if he did take her against the wall, the worst had already happened. They could do as they pleased now. On that thought, she grew excited again. His fingers slipped into her cleft and she dropped her head back.

  “You did come for me,” he said, his words low and seductive as he stroked her slick folds. “Do it again, darling.”

  She was clay in his hands as he hitched one of her legs on his hip, and his wicked fingers played her body like a master musician. She swiftly came apart again, stars bursting behind her eyelids as she shuddered against him, feeling her core clamp around his fingers as a small cry escaped her. And his sinful lips teased the skin of her neck with kisses as he encouraged her, whispering dangerous and scintillating things in her ear.

  And she loved it. She nearly vibrated with euphoria with every wicked word he uttered.

  It was poetry to her, hotly etched straight into her heart and other parts of her body. He used words in ways she’d never imagined.

  And when he pulled away, dropping her skirts, it took everything she had inside her to stand straight. She glimpsed the long ridge of his arousal in his trousers, and the sight seared itself into her mind. She couldn’t meet his gaze, but he gave her no choice. He tilted her chin up.

  “He can’t have you,” he said. The same intent in his eyes that he’d had at luncheon.

  “I have no choice,” she whispered.

  “You do.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “It could be easy for you. I could make it so. We’re throwing all of you a house party to find husbands. I have many wealthy single friends. Your sisters will be taken care of.”

  And just as swiftly as his kiss had undone her, he pieced her back together with those words.

  “What?” She couldn’t say anything more. Too many words rushed forth to put into order and form a sentence.

  “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything now.”

  “Take care of me—like a mistress?”

  “No—God, Anne. How do we always have this miscommunication?”

  “Then what do you mean? You’ll marry me off to one of your friends after you’ve had your fill?”

  It would have been funny—the way his face blanked and then contorted to an angry scowl— had a cold claw of shame not wrapped itself around her heart, squeezing and piercing. It was only pain, the kind of pain that would not let go. Much like how her heart would not let go of him even when her brain, and Roderick himself, provided all the reasons why she ought to.

  “Nothing I say will change your mind about me, will it? I’m always saying the wrong thing.”

  “It’s not just what you say. It’s what you’ve done. Your actions are stronger than your words.”

  “As are yours. You want me, Anne. You cannot deny it. I feel the way you cling to me.”

  “But none of that matters. I must marry Mr. Hart as soon as possible.”

  “No.”

  Anne blinked in surprise. “No?”

  “At least wait until the house party.”

  “Why?”

  “Options, Anne. You have options.”

  Anne folded her arms, hugging herself. Her stomach twisted as all these uncomfortable emotions tumbled inside her. “No, I don’t.”

  He reached up as if to cup her face, but Anne turned her head away. He stepped back, allowing her the space to escape him. But she couldn’t make her feet move yet. Her legs were still buttery.

  “What is it you want of me?” he asked.

  Too much.

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  “I want you,” he said.

  Such misleading words. He’d had her, and he didn’t even remember. If she let herself, she could believe in them with her all her gullible heart, but her head was firmly in charge now.

  “You want a distraction. You’re nothing but a bored, drunk aristocrat, who can’t distinguish one paramour from another. I’m nothing to you.”

  He gripped her shoulders. “Never say that. It is far from the truth. For years I’ve craved you, but I thought you despised me so I kept my distance. Now I know you want me in return.”

  Her heart stuttered, but she forced herself to continue. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “How does it not matter? I’m baring my soul to you and it doesn’t matter?”

  At this, Anne had to laugh. “Baring your soul?”

  He scoffed and turned away, clearly frustrated. He ran his fingers through his thick hair, and Anne watched, willing herself to be stronger. His beauty was like a spell. She had to resist him. Giving in had led to her ruin. She was holding on to her reputation, and it all hindered on marrying as swiftly as possible. If only she could tell him the truth. Would he marry her? Or would he stow her away like a mistress and ruin her in truth. She’d live a shameful life alone, and her sisters would be tainted by association.

  And on top of it all, he still would not love her. He’d still be drinking his life away, chasing conquest after conquest.

  “You’re right, Roderick. I am attracted to you. Clearly, you affect me in some way that leads me to let you take liberties. And yes, I enjoy them. But you would never be the husband I need.”

  He stiffened and then swung to face her.

  “You mean to tell me that if I professed my love and proposed marriage right this moment, you’d refuse? Me. A wealthy man who could solve every problem of your family, tear down that hovel you call a home, rebuild your mother a proper house, dower your sisters, and shower you all with silk and jewels, and you’d say no?”

  Anne hid her shaking hands behind her back. She was an utter fool, but she had her convictions. “Yes. You love your drink more than anything else. I won’t be second to a bottle in my husband’s eyes.”

  He stared at her, expecting her to falter.

  “My sisters and I may be desperate, but we intend to marry good men, even if we cannot love them.”