Images from the past week tormented her. The blazing kiss they had shared in the gallery. The marquess laughing with Emma and Nathaniel beneath the tree by the lake. The strawberries. God, she would never be able to eat strawberries again without remembering the silky feel of his mouth against her skin. And the tender way he had held her, comforted her after news of the dowager's injury, only hours ago. Every touch, every caress, every laugh was seared in her memory.

What a simpleton she had been!

She flung herself through her chamber door, slammed it shut, then collapsed with her back against it.

The tumult sent Lakshmi rushing out of the dressing room. She took one look at Kit's face and murmured a quick prayer in her native tongue. Then she hurried to Kit's side and gently pulled her away from the door. "Memsahib-oh, Memsahib, what has happened?"

"We are leaving, Lakshmi," Kit said flatly. "Pack our things."

"The duchess-memsahib-she has not?…" The maid's ebony eyes were saucers full of worry.

Kit shook her head. "No, she will be fine, but we cannot stay. Please, Lakshmi-no more questions. Just get us packed as quickly as possible."

"As you wish." The maid pressed her palms together, then glided to the wardrobe and began removing the clothing from its depths.

Kit, her knees still shaking, went to her writing desk and gathered her books from its surface. She glanced at the clock. As impossible as it was to believe, she had been kissing Nicholas-Lord Bainbridge-in the folly only a few hours ago. It felt like a lifetime. With a muttered oath, she set aside the books. Then she sat down, drew out a sheet of vellum, and began a note to the dowager duchess.

What would she write to Her Grace? That despite Kit's own instincts, she had fallen in love with a rake? A man who had played her like a trout on a line? Kit sighed and dipped her pen in the inkwell. No. For the moment, all she would say was that however much she regretted having to leave the dowager's side, she must return to Bath and would explain her actions later. A few days from now, when she could summon enough courage, she would relate the entire story in another letter.

Then she paused, her pen poised above the paper.

Fallen in love…

A large blot of ink dripped from the nib, marring the blank page. Kit stared at it. She did. She loved him. Good God. What had she done?

Kit shook herself, set down her pen, then crumpled the ruined sheet of paper and tossed it away. She pulled out a fresh page. Damn the duke for his interference. Was her life any less important because she possessed no title and no surname of dignity? And as for the marquess…

Angry heat crept up the back of her neck; she flexed her fingers. Despite her shame, she refused to slink into a hole and lick her wounds like an injured animal. The marquess had taught her one thing of value: no more running. She knew what she had to do. With fresh conviction, she picked up the pen and began to write.

Kit and her maid had all but finished packing when a thunderous banging erupted from the chamber door. Lakshmi ran to open it, and Lord Bainbridge's tall form burst into the room.

"What the devil are you doing?" he demanded.

Sweet heaven-her heart turned over at the mere sight of him, and his voice sent a rush of delicious shivers down her spine. She steeled herself. "I should think that much is obvious, my lord," she replied. "I am packing."

His dark brows drew together in a forbidding line. "Why?"

"To return to Bath, of course."

"Return to?… I don't understand. Why this sudden departure? What about Aunt Josephine?"

Kit placed the last few items of clothing in her trunk, shut the lid, then directed the footmen to take it down to the waiting carriage. "As much as I would like to remain by the dowager's side during her recuperation, circumstances prevent my staying here any longer."

"Circumstances?…" he repeated, incredulous. "What happened? What did Wexcombe say to you? Damn it, Kit, look at me!"

"I will thank you not to address me in that familiar manner," she said with frosty disdain. "And you need not swear at me."

A stunned look crossed the marquess's handsome face. "Good God. He told you."

She struggled to keep her anguish at bay. "Yes. He told me everything. How he suspected me of being after the dowager's money, and how he asked you to seduce me and ruin me in the dowager's eyes."

"Kit, I can explain."

She laughed, a raw, brittle sound. "A bit late for that, my lord."

"I was going to tell you," he stated grimly.

"Oh? And when were you going to do that? When you had become bored with me and moved on to your next mistress?"

His jaw tightened. "Of course not."

"Then when? No, do not bother; I have already heard enough lies to last a lifetime."

She saw him wince. "It's not like that. Please, listen to me."

Kit turned to face him, her head up. "All right, my lord. Never let it be said that I did not give you a chance to speak in your own defense."

He closed the distance between them, one hand outstretched. "Kit…"

She stepped back to avoid his touch. "That is close enough."

"God, how can I?… It was never supposed to be like this." Shadows lingered in his dark eyes. "When Wexcombe first came to me and told me about you, my first thought was for Aunt Josephine's safety. But soon after I met you I realized my mistake."

"Then why continue the charade, my lord? Why did you not tell me the truth?"

He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, rumpling the dark waves. "Because you would have reacted badly. Like you are now."

"That is a paltry excuse."

"I wanted to tell you," he insisted. "But the more I learned about you, the more attracted to you I became. In the end, I knew I could not insult you so grievously."

"So you strung me along in order to spare my feelings-how noble." Bitterness permeated her words.

"Kit, I had not planned to make you my mistress."

She folded her arms over her chest. "Your persistent attentions seemed to indicate otherwise, as did your infamous proposal."

"I would never have asked you to fulfill your part of that bargain."

"No, you would have continued the seduction until I fell into your bed of my own accord."

A deep flush rose in his face. "Kit, it's not easy for a man to admit that he's been a complete scoundrel."

"A complete scoundrel? Oh, you give yourself far too much credit, my lord," she shot back.

"What would you have done if at the end of the week I had told you that I was wrong to put a price on my assistance, and that we should go our separate ways, with no regrets or obligation?"

"A very easy thing for you to say now, given that the cat is already out of the bag." God, every word he spoke seemed to shred her heart into tiny pieces. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let him see her cry.

His flush intensified. "Kit, not everything was a lie. After the dowager's fall, when you turned to me for comfort… that was real."

"Was it?" A sad smile touched her lips, and she reached for her traveling cloak. "Where you are concerned, my lord, I fear I can no longer discern what is real and what is yet another deception."

With a growl, he lunged forward and seized her arms just above the elbow. "Blast it all, Kit! Do not tell me you are indifferent to the passion that lies between us. You have felt it. I know you have. Just this morning you responded to my kisses with a desire that equaled my own."

Kit swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Is passion all you have to offer, my lord?"

"I… I do not know. At the moment-yes."

His words snuffed out the last tiny flame of hope. She pulled away. "Then let me go."

He released her, his face set in haggard lines. "Kit, give me another chance. Allow me to make amends."