"You are cold, Rosalind," he said after a few minutes. "Come back now."

She shook her head.

"Look," he said, "Letty's summerhouse is quite close by. Let us see if it is unlocked. If it is not, I shall have to come the bully and carry you back to the house or drag you by the hair."

"You would ruin my coiffure," she said. "I shall come quietly, sir, if the summerhouse is locked."

It was not. They moved gratefully inside the glass structure, which was still warm from the sunlight trapped inside during the day. They sat on a brocade-covered bench that circled the outer wall of the structure. They talked amiably for many minutes, until Rosalind realized uneasily that she had lost track of time.

"Cousin Hetty will be worried," she said, standing up. "I had not meant to be gone so long."

He too got to his feet. "I might be persuaded to escort you back if you will kiss me first," he said.

"Gracious!" Rosalind said, eyebrows raised, eyes twinkling. "I have to pay for your escort, sir?"

"Certainly!" he agreed. He winked at her and grinned. "And payment in advance, too, ma'am. I never trust a pretty face."

She laughed outright and put her hands on his shoulders, her face turned up to invite his kiss. He explored her lips warmly with his, holding her loosely in his arms.

"Mmm," he said with a mock growl into her ear.

She drew back her head, grinning merrily, about to remind him that he must now keep his part of their bargain. But his eyes had moved beyond her and his face had sobered.

"I am sure you will both hate me for interrupting this scene before it has reached a more interesting stage," the icy voice of the Earl of Raymore said from behind her, "but I will have to insist that you unhand my ward, Crawleigh."

Rosalind whirled around to face him. "My lord, what are you doing here?" she cried, and cursed her own reactions even as they were happening.

His eyes raked her body so that she felt quite naked before him. "Rescuing you from a fate worse than death, by the look of it," he said with cold sarcasm.

"Look here, Raymore," Sir Bernard said from behind her, his voice sounding testy, "this is not quite the way it seems, you know."

Raymore raised one eloquent eyebrow. "Forgive my foolishly suspicious mind," he said. "How could I possibly have believed that there might be anything improper in your being alone with Miss Dacey in a secluded summerhouse in the middle of the night? And how could I possibly have been alarmed to find you mauling her like a milkmaid? After all, she is still standing and still fully clothed."

Rosalind was so furious that she was momentarily deprived of speech. She glared into his mocking face, lit dimly by the moonlight.

"You misunderstand the situation, Raymore," Sir Bernard said quietly. "You interrupted a proposal of marriage. I was about to ask Miss Dacey if she would do me the honor of becoming my wife."

His two listeners became absolutely motionless, their eyes locked, strangely enough, on each other. Rosalind watched Raymore's face slowly lose its sneer and become taut with… what? Fury? She was surprised to find that when he spoke, his voice was quiet and almost pleasant.

"I see," he said. "And was I to be consulted in the matter, Crawleigh?"

"Of course," Sir Bernard replied. "But Rosalind is a grown woman, Raymore. I wished to consult her wishes before discussing terms with you."

Rosalind turned and looked up into his face, troubled. "Bernard," she began.

He took her hand and squeezed it hard. "Not now, love," he said, smiling fleetingly down at her before returning his attention to her guardian. "We must see about returning Rosalind to her chaperone," he suggested. "I shall call on you tomorrow morning, Raymore?"

The earl bowed stiffly, his face still tight with that expression that Rosalind could not read. He stood aside from the doorway and the other two occupants of the room passed out before him. Rosalind had never felt so uncomfortable in her life. Sir Bernard held her hand firmly on his arm and reduced his stride to match her halting progress, while Raymore walked at her other side. None of them said a word all the way back to the house. It was a relief to be led back to the sofa that she had occupied for several hours before this escapade. The earl had stopped in the doorway to the terrace. Sir Bernard left her almost immediately after smiling down at her and promising to speak with her the following day. She was joined soon afterward by Cousin Hetty, who scolded her in a cheerful manner about disappearing for such a long time and throwing her into such a flutter.

Rosalind was happy at least that the ball was almost at an end. She had to sit looking cheerful for only half an hour longer. Even the journey home was not quite the ordeal she had expected. She was very much aware of Raymore seated opposite her in the carriage, their knees almost touching, but any tension there might have been between them was eased by the cheerful prattle of Sylvia and the lengthy comments of Cousin Hetty.

The matter was not to be dropped for the night, though. Sylvia was already halfway up the stairs and Rosalind had her foot on the bottom stair, Cousin Hetty close behind her, when Raymore entered the house.

"Rosalind, I wish to have a word with you in the library," he said quietly.

"Goodness," Cousin Hetty said, "these girls must be sleeping on their feet, Edward dear. Can it not wait until morning?"

"I am afraid not," he replied.

Rosalind turned without a word and preceded him to the library door.

"I shall have warm milk brought to your room, dear," Cousin Hetty said. "Be sure to come up in time to drink it before it grows cold."

Raymore reached around Rosalind and opened the doors to the library. He closed them again when they were both inside. He did not waste any time. "Are you quite bent on ruining a good man's life?" he asked.

Rosalind turned toward him incredulously. "What?" she asked.

He was looking at her with those ice-blue eyes that always infuriated her. "You enticed Crawleigh into the garden tonight," he said, "and into the summerhouse, so that you might satisfy your lust with him, and now you have forced him into playing the gentleman and offering for you."

"Entice? Lust?" Rosalind repeated. She was so furious that her breath was coming in uneven gasps. "How do you dare speak of me so?"

"I have eyes," he said icily, "and I saw how you were kissing him, Rosalind, your hands pulling him down to you. Your upbringing must have taught you how improper your behavior tonight was even without that embrace. And I believe that a few minutes longer would have seen you past the point of a simple kiss."

"Are you mad?" she cried, her voice rising. "You paint me as some sort of seductress. The notion is absurd. Look at me, Edward. Do I look like the sort of woman who would know how to tempt a man even if she wished to do so? I am ugly and deformed."

"You are not ugly!" he snapped, taking a step toward her, his ice turned to fire. "And you forget that I, too, was fool enough on one occasion to taste your charms. I know what you hide under those cleverly designed garments, Rosalind." His eyes raked her again as they had done earlier in the summerhouse, and she felt that she was being stripped of all her clothing. "I shall not be well-pleased if it should become general knowledge that one of my wards is a woman of loose morals."

Rosalind could feel the blood drumming through her head. She fought to keep some control. "If I were a man, my lord," she said, "I should make you take back those words at the point of a sword. You have insulted me beyond bearing tonight. If you have nothing else to say, I shall go to my room."

"Do you intend accepting Crawleigh's offer?" he asked, turning away from her and crossing to a sideboard, where he poured himself a drink.