SUSANNA WOKE VERY SLOWLY. The room was filled with light and the bed was empty. She, too, felt curiously light and empty. Her memory presented her with a succession of images of what had happened the night before. She knew that they were true. Yet she could not believe it.

She had made love with Dev, flagrantly, wantonly, deliciously and too thoroughly ever to be forgotten. Her entire body heated at the memories of that wicked night. And she was still no closer to understanding why she had done it.

She reached for her wrap. She felt slow and hollow, as though all feeling had been drained from her, all emotion spent during the long, hot hours of the night. And yet her feelings felt sharply alive. Devlin… Once before he had come into her life and he had lit it up with his danger and reckless intensity. She had paid a high price for that. Matters had never been the same again. She could not believe that she had made the same mistake twice.

Dev. Her husband, though he did not know it. It did not make it better, easier, that they were still wed. It made the layers of deceit and emotion all the more complex. When she had known him at seventeen she had been fathoms deep in love with him. Now she was no longer that naive girl, now she most certainly did not love him anymore and yet she had given herself to him, offering up body and soul.

She sat down before her pier glass and started to brush her hair, the long strokes setting up a rhythm that soothed. In the past nine years a score of men had tried to seduce her, more than a score probably. She had not been counting. But she had refused them all. There were times when she had been tempted, times when she had wanted to escape the poverty and the hardship and the loneliness for a few brief hours, yet when she thought about giving herself to a man it had felt tawdry, an empty bargain where once with Dev she had glimpsed paradise.

She had seen paradise again now. Perhaps that was why she had wanted him—because she had wondered if her youthful memories of their time together could possibly have been true. Yet it had not merely been curiosity that had prompted her to take Devlin to her bed. Her emotions were far more profound, complicated and confusing than that, so overwhelming, in fact, that they scared her. So it was an insult to both of them to try to dismiss her response to Dev as mere curiosity.

And then there was Emma. She did not like Emma and she knew Dev did not love his fiancée but she was damned if she was going to be the means for Dev to betray the girl. She had done it once and it had been wrong. She did not imagine that Emma would be complaisant about Dev keeping a mistress. She was Dev’s wife, not his mistress, but no one knew that. No one could know.

With a sigh she laid down the pearl-handled hairbrush and let her hand fall to rest on her stomach. She had been foolish but, she hoped, not dangerously so. She was blessed that her courses were extremely regular and always had been so she should at least be safe from pregnancy this time. She shivered as the memory of the past brushed her like dark wings. Loving and losing… Her family, her husband, her child… Loss was all she had ever known. She could not let it happen again. If it did it would destroy her.

Her mirror image gazed back at her, pale and wan this morning. She had known that she was vulnerable to Dev but she had not calculated the depth of her own susceptibility. Any man was resistible, no matter how arrogantly he believed the opposite, if one simply did not desire him. Her difficulty was that she had imagined herself immune to Dev and had discovered the opposite to be true. Well, it must not happen again. If anyone found out it would ruin her plans to entrap Fitz, ruin the job she was doing for the Duke and Duchess of Alton and with it her entire future and that of the twins, too. Once again the anxiety stirred in her and she forced the dangerous fears away. She could do this. All would be well. She must keep away from Devlin now, focus on bringing Fitz to the point as quickly as possible, take the money and run.

There was a tap at the door and Margery poked her head around. When she saw that Susanna was awake she looked relieved.

“My lady, I came in earlier—twice—but you were sleeping so deeply I did not want to disturb you. I hope I did the right thing.”

Susanna had a sudden vision of the little maid stumbling on a scene of utter debauchery, herself asleep in Dev’s arms, both of them stark naked, their clothes scattered about the room. But there was nothing on the maid’s face to indicate she had received such a shock to her sensibilities.

“Thank you, Margery,” she said. “Pray do not concern yourself about it.”

The maid’s expression eased. “I fear you have missed Lady Phillips’s Breakfast, ma’am,” she murmured. “And Mrs. Carson’s recital.”

Susanna glanced at the clock. It was well past three. “It is astonishing that I have not missed the Duchess of Alton’s soiree, as well,” she observed. “Pray fetch me a cup of tea, Margery, and lots of chocolate biscuits, and then come and help me choose my gown for this evening.”

The maid withdrew and Susanna walked across to the wardrobe, riffling through the gowns hanging there. The golden gauze from the previous night had disappeared, she saw. No doubt Margery had retrieved it earlier. She hoped none of the ribbons had been torn. That would be difficult to explain.

At least Dev was unlikely to be present at the Duchess’s soiree since it had been specifically arranged as a very select gathering to throw Susanna into Fitz’s lap. Gloom settled in Susanna’s stomach like a dull weight. Tonight she must make sure to flatter Fitz and hang on his every word. The sooner she could extract a declaration from him the sooner Francesca Devlin’s hopes would be permanently destroyed and she could ring the curtain down on this sorry charade. She sorted through the gowns with increasing irritation, trying to choose something that was revealing but demure, a little bit racy but not enough to frighten the dowagers. She had to look tempting but irreproachably respectable. She shook her head. Last night had been deeply, delightfully unrespectable. Her skin prickled again at the memory, little shivers of pleasure racking her. This was no good, no good at all. How could she seduce a marriage proposal from Fitz when all she could think of was Devlin?

Her hands stilled. How could she not seduce Fitz? She had no choice. Once before she had ended in the poorhouse. The stench of sickness and desperation was in her nostrils still. She could never condemn Rory and Rose to such a life. She had saved them from that fate when they had been little more than babies and part of the pledge she had made with their mother was that they would never, ever go back. She could feel Flora’s dry hand clutching her own, see the terror in her friend’s dull, dark eyes.

“Promise me…” Flora had said and there, surrounded by the dead and the dying, she had given her word and watched as her friend slipped away, finally at peace. She, who had buried her own child, would never desert the children entrusted to her.

“The figured rose cream silk would look beautiful for tonight, my lady,” Margery ventured and Susanna jumped, realizing that the maid had returned and she had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not even noticed.

“Yes,” Susanna said. “Thank you, Margery.”

It was time to become Caroline Carew again, to forget the past and certainly to forget that her night with James Devlin had ever happened. She had a marquis to entrap. She could not fail. She reached for the chocolate biscuits and ate four of them in quick succession. She felt comforted. A little. Washing the chocolate from her fingers, she started to dress.

 

“YE WERE SLEEPING LIKE A baby or a man with a clear conscience.” Dev came awake to find Frazer shaking him none too gently. “Strange,” the valet continued, “since you were out until first light and I’ll wager ye were up to no good.”

Dev stretched, yawned and lay back on his pillows. “I wouldn’t say that,” he said. He felt good; more than good, his temper mellow, his body satiated. He knew that he should not. Guilt at his betrayal of Emma, shock, remorse… Those were the emotions that should be troubling him now, coupled with a determination to put the hot, sensual night with Susanna behind him and ensure it never happened again. What he should not be feeling was physical satisfaction tempered with a strong urge to repeat the experience again, as soon as possible, as often as possible.

Frazer’s mouth had turned down at the corners. “Your harlot must have been a cut above those Haymarket drabs,” he said sourly.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dev said, ambushed by a sudden fierce protectiveness toward Susanna that took him by surprise. He threw back the covers and stood up.

“Aye well, ye be careful, laddie,” Frazer said, handing him his robe. “Seventy thousand pounds Lady Emma has. Worth more than a quick fumble with a whore—”

“That in no way describes my experience last night,” Dev bit out, holding on to his temper by a thread, “and I suggest you speak of it no more, Frazer.”

It was the first time that he had ever spoken in such a way to Frazer and he saw the man’s brows rise before a faint wintry smile touched his lips.

“Very good, sir,” the valet said, and there was approval in his voice. “There’s a gentleman to see you by the name of Hammond,” Frazer continued. “I wouldn’t have woken you otherwise. Said you had consulted him on a business matter last night.”

Dev stopped. He had completely forgotten that the previous night he had stopped off in a coffeehouse to speak to Hammond, the most illustrious inquiry agent in London. He had asked the man to find out all he could about Susanna—and her husband, the late lamented Sir Edwin. Hammond had looked at him with weary, cynical eyes and had said he would report back the following day.

“Changed your mind?” Frazer said, not unsympathetically, as Dev hesitated. “I can send him away.”

“No,” Dev said slowly. He was aware of a curious duality in his feelings, a need to know the truth and at the same time a feeling of reluctance. He might not like what Hammond had to tell him. Very likely he would not like it. Protectiveness toward Susanna stirred in him again and he shook his head impatiently. He had made wild and uninhibited love with Susanna but that should not mean anything to him other than that it had been deeply pleasurable and he wanted to do it again. It did not mean that he thought her any less of an adventuress. It certainly did not mean that he cared for her. Yet he could not quite erase the picture of her sleeping in his arms, her hair spread across his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, her body soft and sweet against his, vulnerable in sleep.

With a sigh he reached for his shirt, shrugged himself into his jacket whilst Frazer tutted at his impatience and lack of care, then went through to the drawing room. The late-afternoon sunshine lay across the floor in bars of gold. He had indeed slept late.

“Sir James.” Hammond got to his feet and shook Dev’s hand. He brought with him the smell of the alehouse, of old smoke and stale beer. It seemed ingrained into his skin. But his shrewd dark eyes were bright.

“An interesting case you gave me,” he said, “that of Caroline Carew.” He sounded, Dev thought, like a man who had solved a particularly complex and pleasing puzzle.

“I did not expect you to have an answer for me so soon,” Dev said.

Hammond bared his teeth in something that just about passed as a smile. “I pride myself on the speed and efficiency of my work. Besides, I was already asking a few questions about the merry widow.”

Dev felt a stir of disquiet.

“Why?” he said swiftly.

Hammond gave another of his vulpine smiles. “When a woman as rich, beautiful and mysterious as Lady Carew comes to Town I am…shall we say…naturally curious? I already had a man working on it. Just in case.”

Dev grimaced. Even though he had commissioned Hammond to find some information on Sir Edwin Carew it disturbed him that others had already been digging into Susanna’s secrets. Somehow it made him feel protective of her all over again, which was folly when Susanna was surely as vulnerable as a tigress.

He signaled to Hammond to take a seat and waited, aware of the same odd mix of anticipation and unease.

“Caroline Carew,” Hammond said deliberately, “is not, strictly speaking, a widow.”

For a moment Dev was rendered speechless. “Sir Edwin Carew is still alive?” he queried.

Hammond grinned. “Not at all, sir. Edwin Carew never existed.”

Dev frowned. Evidently Hammond was not as accomplished an inquiry agent as he claimed to be. “Of course he does, man,” he said. “I’ve met people who claim to have known him! The Duke and Duchess of Alton—” He stopped again. Hammond was looking very amused.

“It’s a neat confidence trick, sir,” the inquiry agent said. “I’ve seen it happen before. One person claims to know Sir Edwin and before you know it there will be people who remember meeting him, or discussing astronomy with him at a lecture or sharing a whisky with him in an Edinburgh inn. They will even give you a physical description of the man.”

Dev sat down heavily. If Susanna had invented Sir Edwin Carew it could only be for one reason—to hide her real past. She had told him that she had left Balvenie for Edinburgh, to find a rich husband. Sir Edwin was supposed to have been that man. Sir Edwin had not existed. She could only have invented him in order to bait the trap, the rich widow out to catch a marquis. Would that marquis find, when it was too late, that the prize he thought he had captured was no more than a penniless adventuress on the make? A cynical smile twisted Dev’s lips. Susanna had been very clever. She had pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. But now the thread was starting to unravel and if he was cunning he might just be able to find a way to persuade Susanna to cease her pursuit of Fitz before it was too late for Chessie. It was unlikely, given the secrets she knew about him, but if there was a way he would find it.

“You are absolutely certain of this?” he questioned.

Hammond looked offended. “I am the best, sir.”

“Very well,” Dev said. “Thank you.”

Hammond nodded, stood.

“I cannot really afford to commission you to find out more, Mr. Hammond,” Dev said, “but if you were to take on this case, what would you do next?”

Hammond laughed. “You’re asking for free advice, sir?”

“Yes,” Dev said, “I suppose I am.”

“I’d find out all about the lady, sir,” Hammond said. “I’ll wager Caroline Carew is not her real name, for a start.”

“I could save you the trouble there,” Dev said. “It is not.”

Hammond laughed again. “Well then, sir,” he said, “you don’t really need an inquiry agent, do you?”

“I want to know what Lady Carew has been doing since we last met,” Dev said.

“Then ask her,” Hammond said. “My guess would be you will find a way to persuade her to tell you.” He looked Dev straight in the eye. “Set a thief to catch a thief, eh, Sir James?”

Dev smiled ruefully. “Are you implying I am a scoundrel, Mr. Hammond?”

“No more than Lady Carew is an adventuress, Sir James,” Hammond said. He raised his battered hat in a salute. “Diamonds cut diamonds, so they say.”

“So they do,” Dev agreed softly as the door closed behind the inquiry agent. He thought of Susanna, naked in his arms, her mouth open and eager beneath his, her body clasping his in the most intimate and abandoned of embraces. It was true that there was a bond between them, a passion as violent and consuming as their lovemaking had been. What the bond was and how it might be broken he had no idea.

He walked across to the mantel and picked up the sheaf of invitations there, flicking through them all. In two days’ time he was supposed to be squiring Emma to Lady Bell’s Midsummer Ball. He felt his heart drop like a stone at the thought. Then, like the purest temptation the thought crept in that Susanna might be attending and if so, he would contrive for them to be alone together. He would enjoy confronting her about her fictitious husband. And then he would take her home, bundling her into a carriage, taking her on the seat, her skirts up about her waist, her body warm and willing about his, and he would drown once again in that wickedly pure pleasure.

He already felt hot and hard at the thought of it. But it could not be. It must not be. He had to put Susanna from his mind and never think of seducing her again. He had to atone for the wrong he had done Emma by being the most attentive and faithful fiancé in the world. He had behaved without honor. Not only that, he had put all his future plans at risk.

Dissatisfaction stirred within him. For a moment he glimpsed an alternative future, one where he took up again his Naval commission and did something more useful with his life than fetch and carry for Emma. Once again he would have broad horizons and life-and-death challenges. He felt the excitement rise within him. Then he thought of his debts, sufficient to see him in the Fleet, and of Chessie ruined through his disgrace. Her hopes of marrying Fitz were almost lost already. He could not condemn her to suffer for his foolishness, too. He had looked after Chessie since the day his father, the most reckless, feckless gambler of them all, had shot himself, leaving their lives ripped apart when he was nine and his sister six years old. He had been stupid, following in his father’s footsteps in profligacy, but for him it was not too late and he would never let his sister down the way that Sir Gerard Devlin had.

As for Susanna, he had to forget the wild passion that there was between them and concentrate on bringing her down. If she gave him the slightest advantage he would take it. If he could spill her secrets whilst keeping his own he should not hesitate. Susanna was ruthless in pursuing what she wanted. He had to be ruthless, too. This dangerous attraction he felt and the even more dangerous urge to protect her had to be denied. With a muttered curse Dev let the invitations scatter on the table and went out to find Frazer and a large bowl of ice-cold water to cure his ardor.

 

LADY BELL’S BALL WAS the most desperate crush, yet with an inevitability that seemed preordained, Susanna saw Dev the moment that she stepped into the ballroom. He was dancing with Emma; the two of them were halfway down the set of a country dance. Emma was looking about the room as though she was desperately searching for an acquaintance in the crowd whilst Dev was making desultory conversation to her and was being largely ignored.

It was two days since they had met, days that Susanna had spent almost exclusively with Fitz, driving in the park, dancing at a succession of balls, luring Fitz closer and closer to a proposal of marriage whilst he became increasingly possessive and almost equally sexually frustrated. She had flirted with him, teased him, provoked him and promised him access if not to her body then certainly to her huge, fictitious fortune. She was beginning to think that Fitz was almost as keen to get his hands on the money as he was to get them on her person, which was interesting since he was not a poor man but he was almost certainly a greedy one. The more time she spent with Fitz the less she liked him, recognizing that beneath his appearance of conviviality was a man who was inconsiderate and selfishly devoted to his own pleasures. If it had not been for hurting Francesca Devlin’s future then she would have had no qualms about her role in distracting Fitz and then ultimately discarding him. He richly deserved something to go awry in his pampered life.

It was also two days in which Susanna had—almost—convinced herself that when she saw Devlin again it would cause her no emotion other than indifference. It was two days in which she had consistently deceived herself as well as others because now she looked at Dev and felt her awareness of him blaze into vivid life and she knew she could never, ever escape her feelings for him.

Her eyes locked with Dev’s over the heads of the dancers. He kept his gaze on her for one long, long moment. The expression flared in his eyes and Susanna felt the impact of it wash through her, down to her toes, hot and turbulent. It almost wrenched a gasp from her. The events of the previous two days faded as though they had never been.

So they were not to pretend that it had never happened. Neither of them had the power to deny it.

“Cold?” Fitz asked heartily, seeing her shiver. “Dash it, my dear, it is as hot as Hades in here.” His handsome face was moody. He had suggested in the carriage that they might cut the ball and go somewhere more exciting, a party for just the two of them. Susanna, knowing that Fitz had partaken liberally of the brandy before they set off, and knowing also precisely where his thoughts were tending, had not been encouraging. Fitz had been in a sulk ever since.

A very pretty countess wafted up to them intent on claiming Fitz’s attention. The room was indeed stiflingly hot, the music and chatter exceedingly loud. Susanna suppressed a sigh. Before she had come to London she had been assured that it was the most exciting place on earth. That might be so, but the Season was no more than the same people encountering each other over again in the same places pursuing the same pastimes: dancing, drinking, flirting. It was beginning to feel unconscionably boring.

She left Fitz flirting with the countess and wandered into the supper room. So much food… Her stomach growled but she forced herself to take only a meager amount. People were watching. She ate a bowl of strawberries and longed for a cream puff. Perhaps later…

“How charming you look, Lady Carew.” The country dance had ended and Dev was standing slightly behind her. She had not seen him approach in the crowd and now she jumped. He spoke softly in her ear. “Cream silk—how virginal and inappropriate. For a widow,” he added as she turned to look at him. “At least you did not push the fiction too far and wear white.”

“Sir James.” Susanna kept her voice very level, ignoring the flutter of sensation along her nerves. “I would like to say that it is a pleasure to see you again but—” she shrugged lightly “—I would not wish to lie.”

“I should not worry about that,” Dev said lazily. “Deception is a speciality of yours, is it not? You seemed pleased enough to see me last time we met,” he continued, before she could respond. “I remember—”

“Sir James,” Susanna cut in quickly. They were not overheard but even so this was no place of a private conversation. She knew Dev was only seeking to provoke her. And damn it, he was succeeding.

“You will oblige me by forgetting our last encounter,” she said coldly. “And as a gentleman you most certainly would not remind me of it.”

“Ah…” Dev sounded regretful. He had taken hold of her hand, his fingers moving gently against the pulse at her wrist.

“I am sure that a gentleman would accede to your wishes, Lady Carew,” Dev said. “But you know that I am no such thing.” His smile was brilliant, devastating. “So, alas, all I can say is that if you ever wish me to oblige your desires I am always yours to command.”

Remembering those desires and where they had led her, Susanna felt her pulse jump. Dev felt it, too. She saw the light in his eyes intensify.

“Susanna,” he said, his voice even lower, no more than a rumble against her ear, “you do not regret it. I know you do not.”

Susanna looked up and met his eyes and could not look away. She had expected to see nothing but challenge in his expression. Instead there was sincerity and tenderness that made her heart leap.

“I…” She hesitated on the edge of disclosure, tempted to admit her feelings honestly but at the same time afraid. Dev was so close in that moment, his lips but an inch from hers, the scent of his skin and the sandalwood cologne filling her senses, his hand warm on hers. His touch, his proximity, made her stomach drop with longing. She forgot everything, the ball, the crowds, even her mission to entrap Fitz. There was nothing but Devlin watching her with that dizzying gentleness in his eyes.

Her gaze fell and she felt his fingers tighten on hers.

“Susanna, answer me.” There was urgency in Dev’s voice. “You can trust me. I swear it.” He took a breath, leaned even closer. “I know you are in trouble of some sort,” he said quickly, in an undertone. “If you need help then tell me. I promise to do all I can to aid you.”

Susanna’s heart started to race. She thought of her debts, of the crushing fear of failing Rory and Rose, of the anonymous note, of the whole complicated deceit that was now close to spinning out of control. She felt Dev’s touch, warm and reassuring, she remembered the intimacy they had shared, and in that moment she was so lonely she almost cried aloud.

“Trust me,” Dev said again and she looked up into his eyes and for a split second saw the flash of calculation there that gave the lie to the sincerity of his words.

The illusion snapped.

You can trust me…

The truth was that Dev had enticed her right to the edge of revelation and she had almost fallen for it. He had seduced her, ruthlessly exploited her attraction to him and then used that weakness against her. He cared not a rush for her. Oh, she did not doubt that he had found physical pleasure in her arms. But that was all it was to him, whereas she had felt such terrifying emotional closeness. He had felt nothing. And now she was so vulnerable to him that she had almost done as he had asked and trusted him, spilling all her secrets. She shivered to see how close she had come to confession.

“Trust you?” she said. “I’d sooner trust a snake.”

Dev’s smile was so arrogant it made her want to drill the heel of her delicate evening slipper into his foot. “It was worth a try,” he said.

“Bastard,” Susanna said, with feeling. Her heart felt sore and cold.

Dev laughed. “I may be many things, but not that, as far as I know.” He cast her a sideways look. “You almost fell for it. Admit it.”

“I do not want to talk to you,” Susanna said.

He kissed her fingers. “You’ll sleep with me but not talk to me?”

“I won’t do that, either,” Susanna said. “It was a mistake, Devlin. Forget it.” She smiled at him, a little taunting smile that belied the cold hurt that was inside her. “Or can’t you do that? Can’t you forget me?”

Their gazes locked again in anger and awareness. Susanna wanted to walk away but the same compulsion held her as before. The emotion shimmered between them like a heat haze, bright, fierce and undeniable.

“At least,” Dev said, “you do not need to worry about forgetting Sir Edwin Carew. Since he did not exist, you may invent whatever details suit your purpose.”

Susanna could feel herself paling. For a second the floor seemed to swoop and plunge beneath her feet and it was Dev who caught her arm to steady her.

“It seems,” he said, with grim satisfaction, his eyes riveted on her face, “that I was right. Sir Edwin is pure invention.”

For one long, terrifying moment, Susanna’s mind was a tangled mass of apprehension and doubt. She scanned Dev’s face trying to ascertain just how much he knew, but his expression was impassive. She would get no help there. In fact, he would be waiting for her to stumble, to give more away, to reveal those secrets he had tried to charm from her only a moment earlier. If one method failed then he would turn to another. Her only defense could be to stand up to him, to brazen it out.

She straightened her spine and looked him straight in the eye.

“Very well,” she said lightly. “I confess it. I invented Sir Edwin. He was…an embellishment.”

Dev grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a pillar, away from prying eyes. “What was he—a lie to give you respectability?” he said harshly. “The rich widow who was nothing of the sort?”

“Precisely that,” Susanna said coolly. It was a lie—just another lie—but at all costs she had to prevent Dev from getting close to the truth that she was in league with the Duke and Duchess of Alton. Her whole future depended on preserving that facade. Far better that Dev should think her an unprincipled adventuress on the make.

“You understand how it is, Devlin,” she said. “A fortune hunter has to give the appearance of wealth even if there is precious little to support it.”

Dev’s gaze traveled over her thoughtfully and lingered on the diamonds at her throat.

“Those are real,” he murmured. “They must have been paid for somehow.”

Marvelous. Now he thought her a whore plying her trade on the streets of Edinburgh, or perhaps a paid mistress, a courtesan. Susanna shrugged mentally. There was no way that she could refute it, not if she wanted to keep the name of her paymasters a secret.

“Oh, yes, they have been paid for,” she said wearily, and saw the disillusion deepen in his eyes. “How did you find out about Sir Edwin?” she added.

“I asked around,” Dev said vaguely. She could see he was not going to tell her. “A number of people claim to know him but it seems their imaginations are almost as vivid as yours.”

Susanna shrugged. She brought her gaze up to his face. “And what are you going to do with the information?” she asked bluntly.

Dev’s gaze warmed into amusement. “What would you like me to do?”

Damn him. Susanna mentally piled curses on his head. Dev knew full well that she could not afford for him to make trouble for her with Fitz. Even if he hinted to acquaintances that she was not the widow she seemed, awkward questions might be asked. And the only thing she could do to stop him was to threaten to spoil his future if he hurt hers.

She smiled. “I ask only that you think about your own situation before you try to change mine,” she said sweetly, and saw his lips thin.

“Blackmail,” he said. “That’s not pretty, Susanna.”

“Call it insurance then,” Susanna said. “You do not want to lose your heiress, do you? Well then…”

A faint smile curled Dev’s lips. “What a piece of work you are,” he murmured. “I almost admire you.”

“And you, Sir James,” Susanna countered. “You are scarcely a lily-white innocent, are you?”

He laughed then, the devilry leaping in his eyes. “Oh, Susanna,” he said under his breath, “I want to carry you out of this ballroom and make love to you until you are begging me for more—”

The sensual heat blazed through Susanna, making her catch her breath. Dev heard it and the wicked light in his eyes intensified. “Come with me,” he murmured. “You know you want to. That at least is no lie.”

Susanna’s reticule fell from her shaking fingers and spilled open. With a muffled curse she dropped to her knees, trying to push the contents back inside before Dev saw them. But it was too late. As she tried to force the last cream puff back inside, her hands trembling, she realized that Dev had seen.

“What on earth—” His tone had changed completely. So had the expression in his eyes. He was looking at her with puzzlement and something Susanna feared might be pity.

“So now you are stealing food, as well?” he murmured. “Perhaps you really are in trouble.”

“It’s nothing,” Susanna snapped.

“Susanna,” Dev said, “your purse is full of cream and pastry.”

The color flamed into Susanna’s face. “I’m hungry,” she said.

“That is the purpose of the supper room,” Dev pointed out.

Susanna pulled the reticule drawstring tight. Some cream squished out.

“You need to lick that up,” Dev said.

Susanna looked up at him. Suddenly, oddly, she felt like crying as though this one foolish thing was finally the last straw.

“You don’t understand,” she said, and heard the betraying quiver in her voice. “Don’t you remember what it was like never to have enough to eat and to long for it with so deep a craving you could not resist?”

She saw the frown snap down in Devlin’s eyes. “Yes,” he said softly, after a moment, and there was a wealth of emotion in his voice. “I do remember that.”

Their gazes locked. “Then—” Susanna started.

“This is a damned tedious crush.” Fitz, sounding disagreeable, had shed the flirtatious countess and come looking for her. Susanna jumped, hiding the reticule behind her back. Dev straightened up and gave Fitz the most immaculate bow. The dark frown on Fitz’s forehead deepened still further as he saw whom Susanna was with.

“How do you do, Devlin.” Fitz was sounding churlish and Susanna thought what a spoiled little boy he was. “Your sister not here tonight?”

“Francesca attends with Lady Grant and her party,” Dev said. “If you wished to beg a dance from her—”

“Don’t think I’ll bother,” Fitz said, rudely cutting him off. “Dashed slow, these debutante balls.” He turned to Susanna. “Come, my dear, let us go to Vauxhall. Some music, a little dancing, a stroll down the Dark Walk…” He smiled meaningfully. “It is far more to my taste.”

Susanna could feel Dev’s gaze on her and feel even more acutely the tension emanating from him. She saw Fitz’s flushed, determined face—she knew he must have drunk several glasses of champagne down as though they were water in the short time since their arrival, on top of the brandy he had already consumed—and felt her heart sink. This was the critical point. She had to reel Fitz in. If she turned him down now she might as well kiss her commission from the Duke and Duchess of Alton goodbye because Fitz could only be thwarted to a certain point. On the other hand, the thought of Fitz touching her made her skin crawl. A little while ago the idea of allowing him to steal a kiss or two had not seemed so bad. Now it felt impossible. And if he wanted to take further liberties… She repressed a shudder. Dev was still watching her, his blue eyes cold, awaiting her response as much as Fitz was. She realized that Dev’s reaction mattered to her more, far more than Fitz’s. Her heart was bumping against her ribs. She felt horribly trapped. She wanted to deny Fitz, hated the thought of conceding, and yet what choice did she have? This was what she had agreed to do when the Duke and Duchess had paid her to take Fitz away from Francesca Devlin. Tonight, if she was clever and played her cards aright, she could turn Fitz up very sweet indeed and seal the deal. But she felt sick at the thought. The idea of Fitz’s kiss, when she remembered Devlin’s, Fitz’s hands on her, when all she could think of was that she ached for Dev’s caress…

She raised her chin. In truth there was no reason to turn Fitz down for there was no future for herself and Devlin. Her senses had been bewitched by Dev’s lovemaking and that was all. She had been captivated, seduced by no more than physical pleasure. If she denied Fitz now she would be sabotaging all that she had worked for. This was just a job, like the ones that had gone before.

She smiled. “Vauxhall?” she said. “That would be charming, my lord.”

Fitz smiled, his good humor restored, and tucked her hand through his arm in an ostentatiously possessive gesture. Susanna risked a glance at Dev’s face and wished she had not. The brief moment that had drawn them together over shared memories had vanished. Now the contempt she saw in Dev’s eyes seared her to the soul. He thought her a whore, which was scarcely surprising. She should not care for Dev’s opinion, of course; it should be a matter of complete unconcern to her. Besides, he was no better than she.

“Enjoy your evening,” he said very politely.

“You, too, Sir James,” Susanna said. “I am sure you will find someone to divert you.”

Dev gave her an ironic smile, sketched a bow and turned away, and Fitz steered Susanna toward the doors, one hand on the small of her back to guide her, his palm sliding lower over the slippery silk to cup her bottom in a brief but telling gesture that indicated exactly where he was planning the evening to end. Susanna kept her smile pinned on her face whilst her mind spun frantically. She was not only going to have to be clever tonight but she was going to have to be extremely careful. For one brief but intense moment she wished with all her heart that she had never come to London and never taken this role. But it was too late. She was in far too deep.