Sure enough, Evie's third encounter with Lord Gareth Armstrong was just as awkward as the first two.

She remained where she was. "Are you afraid your brother will force us to marry?" And right after he kissed her—with her consent! "Would there be an impediment if he did?"

"Surely you don't wish to be forced to marry, and all because we happened to be found in a room together, with the door closed and no chaperone?"

She wasn't even that desperate, was she? Evie recalled the last time the two of them were found in a room together. With the door closed. And no chaperone.

"You say that as if you've been in a situation like this before," she said. "But since you're still a bachelor, I must assume that the two of you weren't interrupted by your brother. Or hers, for that matter. Were you kissing her, too?"

To her secret delight, he looked as if he were about to have an apoplexy. It was a refreshing change from his usual chest-clutching.

"Never mind, I shall leave you to your brother. We wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea about us." Evie scooped up the copy of Pride and Prejudice before scurrying out of the drawing room and into the front hall just as the knocker banged against the front door again. She nearly collided with Lumsden as he hastened to answer it, before lifting her skirts to rush upstairs and out of the duke's sight. At the landing, she grabbed the newel post to swing around to the next flight, only to hunker down out of sight as the butler opened the front door to the Duke of Bradbury, who stated he was here to see Lady Milner. The butler showed him to the drawing room, where Bradbury promptly exclaimed his brother's name.

Evie waited till the butler closed the drawing room door, then crept back down the stairs as he prepared to ascend them. "I will fetch Lady Milner," she whispered to him. "Do see about some refreshments for His Grace."

"As you wish, Miss Benedict." With a short bow, Lumsden disappeared to the back of the house. But instead of going up to find her mother, Evie continued down the staircase on tiptoe to eavesdrop outside the drawing room door.

"Don't tell me you're one of Miss Benedict's new suitors," Bradbury was saying. "You don't need her dowry—or have you fallen in love with her already?"

"Of course not," Lord Gareth replied, and Evie's heart plummeted—something it might not have done if not for that kiss. At the same time, she knew better than to expect him to fall in love with her right away.

Still...

He continued, "If you must know, I came here in hopes of learning if Miss Benedict had successfully prevailed upon Lady Milner not to marry you."

That was the real reason he came here? Not because he wanted to save Evie from the horrors of fortune hunters—and even then, not because he wished to marry her himself.

Then why had he kissed her? Fury boiled within her.

"I say, that seems rather high-handed of you," said Bradbury. "I thought I told you that this was none of your concern, absent a viable reason you object, which you have yet to provide."

"It just so happens I heard one from none other than Lord Kingsley this morning," Lord Gareth replied. "I don't know if you're aware of what's being said about her."

"Whatever it is, I don't doubt I've heard it before. Now do go before either of them comes downstairs. Do you want to give them the wrong idea?"

"The wrong idea about what?"

"About why you're here. Do you want Lady Milner or even Miss Benedict to think you're here to propose marriage to the latter?"

"But I'm not. I just explained to you—"

"Yes, and I'm telling you to leave before you have that chance. Good day, Gareth."

"Kingsley claims to have seen her at Madame Delphine's only a few months ago."

"Who? Lady Milner?"

Evie held her breath, as her heart hammered in her ears.

"You can't imagine I mean her daughter," said Lord Gareth. "Or have you heard something I've not heard before?"

"I'm not the one who visits Madame Delphine," Bradbury said testily. "Certainly not for the reasons you used to go there. Have you ever seen her there?"

"Who?"

"Lady Milner, you fool. Did you think I meant Miss Benedict? I can't imagine you mean her, either."

"He was there the same night I was," Lord Gareth replied. "Madame Delphine said she was Lady Milner. Kingsley, however, seemed to think she was Miss Benedict."

"And who do you believe, Gareth? The refugee from the Reign of Terror who never quite lost her loyalty to her homeland, or that half-sprung wastrel who's inherited little more than a midden heap to go with his title? You were there—did you not see her?"

"Not her face," Lord Gareth said, his tone clearly indicating that he'd definitely seen other parts of her—just none that would make her recognizable to him.

Even now, on the other side of the closed door, Evie blushed and her core trembled at the memory of what he saw of her that night.

What he touched.

And what he never finished.

"She wore the same necklace that night that she wore at her son's wedding yesterday," Lord Gareth said. "I take it you didn't give it to her?"

"One of her previous husbands must have," said Bradbury. "I have no plans to present any jewelry to my betrothed until after we've made it official and formally announced it."

"And when will that be?" Lord Gareth inquired.

"Not before her son and new daughter-in-law return from their wedding journey. There may not be an announcement at all. It's only customary, not mandatory. We don't want any gossip that could complicate matters."

"Then you do realize that any alliance with Lady Milner will spark gossip? What Kingsley is saying could make matters even worse—and what's more, could harm Miss Benedict's prospects."

If that concerned him so much, Evie thought furiously, then why didn't Lord Gareth offer to marry her himself? Not for the first time, she wondered what he was doing at Madame Delphine's that night. Well, besides what he did? Aside from that, he'd given her the distinct impression that he had no wish to be there any more than she did.

Bradbury finally said, "I see. Well, that does sound serious. 'Tis definitely something to take into consideration."

"I do hope you will consider detaching yourself from Lady Milner before matters go any further."

"I would have to speak to her. I'm still waiting for her to come downstairs. I wonder what's keeping her? Maybe she's aware of the gossip and threat of scandal, and has decided to end it herself, without you persuading Miss Benedict to prevail upon her. Or maybe she found a more suitable prospect since last night. What a pity for me, eh?"

That would be just like her fickle mother, Evie thought desolately. It might even be someone on that blasted list she made up.

"I daresay you'd dodge a bullet were that the case," Lord Gareth remarked. "In the meantime, Kingsley is threatening to tell the world that Miss Benedict was at Madame Delphine's Cyprian ball—unless he marries her."

"Is that your concern, either?"

"Not really."

And right after he kissed her!

"Then what of it?" Bradbury sounded as vexed as Evie felt.

"I only think you should be aware of this if you're going to entangle yourself with Miss Benedict's mother," said Lord Gareth.

"I appreciate the warning. Now would you kindly depart and find something else to do."

"I would if I could find my hat. I haven't seen it since I came in here."

"Maybe it's outside on the front steps. I did see a hat that looked like yours sitting on one of the steps. It also looked as if someone might have stepped on it, but that wasn't me."

"Kingsley, no doubt," Lord Gareth grumbled. "I see your carriage out there. Are you not worried about the neighbors knowing you're here to see Lady Milner?"

"Of course not. They're more likely to assume that I'm here to see Miss Benedict. And that, in turn, should keep any other fortune hunters at bay, eh?" The duke guffawed.

"Then I guess my work here is done."

"Yes, it is."

Evie scurried back to the staircase, hitching up her skirts again to better rush upstairs on tiptoe. She reached the landing just as the drawing room door clicked open. She crouched down and peeked through the balusters at Lord Gareth as he stalked across the foyer to the front door without so much as glancing anywhere else.

He seemed determined to put her out of his mind. He didn't even really care about Kingsley's threats, except where it might reflect poorly on his own family.

And even if she ever did summon the courage to confess to him that she was the one he'd encountered at Madame Delphine's that night, did she really expect him to marry her? Why would he, when her very presence there meant she was no better than any of the real Cyprians in that place? Lady Flora took her there when she was supposed to accompany her to Lady Whitbourne's more respectable masquerade ball instead, and in so doing, Evie was now damaged goods.

No gentleman would marry her now—save for Kingsley.

Dejected, she slowly rose from her crouch, about to trudge upstairs to summon her mother when the duke's voice startled her from below. "Miss Benedict? Is your mother not receiving callers this morning, or has she sent you in her place?"

She peered over the banister to see him gazing up at her. "What makes you say such a thing, Your Grace?"

"I've never had to wait for her before. Is she having second thoughts about our plans?"

Evie ventured back down the stairs. "The truth, Your Grace, is that she doesn't yet know you're here, but that's not the butler's fault. I told him I would summon her."

"Very well. Pray, summon her."

Evie remained on the staircase, just a few risers up, so that her gaze was level with Bradbury's. He was a large man, tall as well as broad, bigger than Lord Gareth or Evie's own brother, with a tousled mane of golden hair that reminded her of a lion—big, tawny, and ferocious. He might have been a Viking, here to carry off her mother in a longboat back to the fjords of Norway.

Evie might have been easily attracted to him if not for her previous—ahem—interactions with his brother. She took a deep breath. "I couldn't help overhearing Your Grace's conversation with Lord Gareth. So that there's no further misunderstanding, I think you should know that I'm the one who was at Madame Delphine's that night."

The duke arched a tawny brow. "Indeed?"

"Yes. I wore an old Venetian carnival mask of my mother's, and her diamond butterfly necklace—the same one she wore yesterday for my brother's wedding. It once belonged to my grandmother. My father gave it to her after he won it in a card game from her brother."

"Lord Forrestal?"

"Yes. One of my many uncles." The same uncle, in fact, who'd interrupted Gareth and Evie at Madame Delphine's and mistaken her for her mother. "It was never my intention to go there that evening, or any evening. I was with my cousin's wife, Lady Flora Benedict. She was supposed to take me to Lady Whitbourne's masquerade ball, but instead we ended up at Madame Delphine's."

He nodded, as if it all made perfect sense and was nothing out of the ordinary. "I daresay you must have received quite an education that night?"

"Quite," she almost choked out, as she recalled Gareth sitting on the edge of the chaise that night and—a delightful quiver suddenly seized her deepest core at the memory.

"Are you all right, Miss Benedict?" The duke sounded concerned, as she frantically wondered what sort of look was on her face.

"Well, it's just that I'm the one who was there, not my mother."

"I never suspected she was there," said the duke. "For that matter, I would never have suspected you were there, either. Though I've heard that some—ladies—occasionally would disguise themselves and go there to enjoy a bit of sport they otherwise never would with their dreary husbands. I'm acquainted with Lady Flora as well as her husband, and he's quite dreary, indeed, while she—well, I trust you know how she is."

Evie swallowed hard. "I do, unfortunately. But I thought I would confess this to Your Grace so you'll know just how scandalous a—uhh—" She rubbed her fingers together as if doing so would conjure the word she wanted. Her brother Ross would have just snapped those same fingers, but Evie had no idea how he did that.

"Stepdaughter?" he suggested.

She widened her eyes. "Yes! You'd think I would know the word by now, considering how many times I've been one to someone or other. I believe Your Grace is entitled to know just how scandalous a stepdaughter you'll be taking on if you marry my mother."