"From your rather scathing tone, I have the impression you think a truly virtuous woman is not going to be easy to find."

"That depends upon how you define virtuous," she

retorted crossly. "From what I have heard, your definition is unduly strict. Few women are true paragons. It is very boring being a paragon, you know. Indeed, sir, you would have a somewhat longer list of candidates from which to select if you were searching for an heiress, as Lord Enfield is. And we all know how short in supply heiresses are."

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on one's view of the situation, I do not happen to be in need of an heiress. I can, therefore, set other standards of suitability. Your information concerning my personal affairs amazes me, however, Miss Ballinger. You seem very well informed. May I ask how you came to have so many details?"

She certainly was not going to tell him about Pompeia's, the ladies' club which she had helped form and which was a bottomless well of rumors and information. "There is never a shortage of gossip in town, my lord."

"Very true." Graystone's gaze narrowed speculatively. "Gossip is as common as the mud on London's streets, is it not? You are quite correct when you assume I would prefer a wife who will come to me without a great deal of it sticking to her."

"As I said, my lord. I wish you luck." It was very depressing hearing Graystone confirm everything she had heard about his infamous list, Augusta thought. "I only hope you do not regret setting your standards so very high." She tightened her grip on Rosalind Morrissey's journal. "If you will excuse me, I would like to return to my bedchamber."

"By all means." Graystone inclined his head, gravely polite as he stepped aside and allowed her to pass between him and Enfield's desk.

Relieved at the promise of escape, Augusta stepped quickly around from behind the huge desk and rushed past the earl. She was all too well aware of the intimacy of their situation. Graystone dressed for riding or a formal ball was impressive enough to capture all her attention. Graystone dressed for bed was simply too much for her unruly senses.

She was halfway down the length of the room when she remembered something very important. She stopped and swung around to race him. "Sir, I must ask you a question."

"Yes?"

"Will you reel obliged to mention any of this unpleasant business to Lord Enfield?"

"What would you do if you were in my place, Miss Ballinger?" he asked dryly.

"Oh, I would definitely maintain a gentlemanly silence on the subject," she assured him quickly. "After all, a lady's reputation is at stake."

"How true. And not just that of your friend. Yours is just as much at risk tonight, is it not, Miss Ballinger? You have played fast and loose with the most valuable jewel in a woman's crown, her reputation."

Damn the man. He really was an arrogant beast. Too pompous, by half. "It is quite true I have taken some risks tonight, my lord," she said in her most chilling tones. "You must remember that I am descended from the Northumberland Ballingers, not the Hampshire Ballingers. The women of my side of the family do not care a great deal for Society's rules."

"You do not consider that many of those strictures are designed for your own protection?"

"Not in the least. Those rules are designed for the convenience of men and nothing more."

"I beg to differ with you, Miss Ballinger. There are times when Society's rules are extremely inconvenient for a man. I can promise you that this is one of those occasions."

She frowned uncertainly and then decided to let that enigmatic comment pass. "Sir, I realize you are on the best of terms with my uncle and I would not have us be enemies."

"I quite agree. I assure you I have no wish to be your enemy, Miss Ballinger."

"Thank you. Nevertheless, I must tell you frankly that you and I have very little in common. We are completely opposite in terms of temperament and inclination, as I am sure you will acknowledge. You are a man who will always be bound by the dictates of honor and correct behavior and all those pesky little rules that govern Society."

"And you, Miss Ballinger? What will bind you?"

"Nothing at all, my lord," she said candidly. "I intend to live life to the fullest. I am, after all, the last of the Northumberland Ballingers. And a Northumberland Ballinger would sooner take a few risks than bury herself beneath the weight of a lot of very dull virtues."

"Come, Miss Ballinger, you disappoint me. Have you not heard that virtue is its own reward?"

She scowled at him again, vaguely suspicious that he might just possibly be teasing her. Then she assured herself that was very unlikely. "I have seen very little evidence of that fact. Now, please answer my question. Will you feel obliged to tell Lord Enfield about my presence here in his library this evening?"

He watched her with hooded eyes, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dressing gown. "What do you think, Miss Ballinger?"

She touched the top of her tongue to her lower lip and then smiled slowly. "I think, my lord, that you are well and truly tangled up in the snare of your own rules. You cannot tell Enfield about this night's work without violating your own code of behavior, can you?"

"You are quite right. I will not say a word to Enfield. But I have my own reasons for keeping silent, Miss Ballinger. And as you are not privy to those reasons, you would be well advised not to make assumptions."

She tipped her head to one side, considering that carefully. "The reason for your silence is the obligation you feel toward my uncle, is it not? You are his friend and you would not want to see him embarrassed because of my actions this evening."

"That is a little closer to the truth, but it is not the whole of it, by any means."

"Well, whatever the reason, I am grateful." Augusta grinned suddenly as she realized she was safe and so was her friend Rosalind Morrissey. Then it suddenly struck her that there was still one very large question that remained unanswered. "How did you know what I had planned here tonight, my lord?"

It was Graystone's turn to smile. He did so with a curious twist to his mouth that sent a chill of alarm through Augusta.

"With any luck that question should keep you awake for a while tonight, Miss Ballinger. Consider it well. Perhaps it will do you good to ponder the feet that a lady's secrets are always prey to gossip and rumor. A wise young woman should, therefore, take care not to take the sort of risks you took tonight."

Augusta wrinkled her nose in dismay. "I should have known better than to ask you such a question. It is obvious someone of your high-minded temperament cannot refrain from issuing reproving lectures at every opportunity. But I forgive you this time because I am grateful for both your help and your silence tonight."

"I trust you will continue to feel grateful."

"I am certain I shall." On impulse Augusta hurried back toward the desk and came to a halt directly in front of him. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly, fleetingly on the edge of his hard jaw. Graystone stood like stone beneath the soft caress. She knew she had probably shocked him to the core and she could not resist a wicked little chuckle. "Good night, my lord."

Thrilled by her own boldness and by the success of her foray to the library, she whirled around and dashed toward the door.

"Miss Ballinger?"

"Yes, my lord?" She halted and turned back to face him once more, hoping that in the shadows he could not see that her face was flaming.

"You have neglected to take your taper with you. You will need it to climb the stairs." He picked up the candle and held it out to her.

Augusta hesitated and then went back to where he stood waiting for her. She snatched the candle from his hand without a word and hastened out of the library.