Glaring at him, she lifted her chin another notch. Her voice shook only a little. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Bowman. But I am neither frightened nor intimidated.”

A gleam of humor flickered in those obsidian eyes. “I should warn you, Hannah: when we meet at Stony Cross Park, take care to avoid the mistletoe. For both our sakes.”

AFTER THE DELECTABLE MISS APPLETON HAD DEPARTED, RAFE remained in the entrance hall, lowering himself to a heavy oak bench. Aroused and bemused, he pondered his unexpected loss of control. He had only meant to give the young woman a peck, just enough to fluster and disconcert her. But the kiss had flared into something so urgent, so fiercely pleasurable, that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking far more than he should have.

He would have liked to kiss that innocent mouth for hours. He wanted to demolish every one of her inhibitions until she was wrapped around him, naked and crying for him to take her. Thinking of how difficult it would be to seduce her, and how much damned fun it would be to get under her skirts, he felt himself turning uncomfortably hard. A slow, wry smile crossed his face as he reflected that if this was what he could expect from Englishwomen, he was going to take up permanent residence in London.

Hearing footsteps, Rafe lifted his gaze. Lillian had come into the entrance hall. She regarded him with fond exasperation.

“How’s the baby?” Rafe asked.

“Annabelle’s holding her. Why are you still out here?”

“I needed a moment to cool my…temper.”

Folding her slender arms across her chest, Lillian shook her head slowly. She was beautiful in a bold, clean-featured way, as spirited and raffish as a female pirate. She and Rafe had always understood each other, perhaps because neither of them had been able to tolerate the stringent rules set by their parents.

“Only you,” Lillian said without heat, “could turn a respectable teatime visit into a sparring match.”

Rafe grinned without remorse and glanced at the front door reflectively. “Something about her brings out the devil in me.”

“Well, you had better contain it, dear. Because if you wish to win Lady Natalie, you’ll have to display far more courtesy and polish than you did in that parlor. What do you think Miss Appleton is going to tell her employers about you?”

“That I’m an unprincipled, ill-mannered villain?” Rafe shrugged and said in a reasonable manner, “But they already know I’m from Wall Street.”

Lillian’s gingerbread-colored eyes narrowed as she regarded him speculatively. “Since you don’t seem at all concerned, I’ll have to assume that you know what you’re doing. But let me remind you that Lady Natalie wants to marry a gentleman.”

“In my experience,” Rafe said lazily, “nothing makes women complain nearly so much as getting what they want.”

Lillian chuckled. “Oh, this should be an interesting holiday. Will you come back to the parlor?”

“In a moment. Still cooling.”

She gave him a quizzical glance. “Your temper takes a long time to subside, doesn’t it?”

“You have no idea,” he told her gravely.

Going back into the parlor, Lillian stood in the doorway and regarded her friends. Annabelle sat with Merritt resting placidly in her arms, while Evie was pouring a last cup of tea.

“What did he say?” Annabelle asked.

Lillian rolled her eyes. “My idiot brother doesn’t seem the least bit worried that Miss Appleton is sure to deliver a scathing report about him to the Blandfords and Lady Natalie.” She sighed. “That didn’t go at all well, did it? Have you ever seen such instant animosity between two people for no apparent reason?”

“Yes,” Evie replied.

“I believe so,” Annabelle said.

Lillian frowned. “When? Who?” she demanded, and was mystified when they smiled at each other.

CHAPTER 4

To Hannah’s astonishment, Natalie was not only not shocked by her account of the visit with Rafe Bowman, she was highly entertained. By the time Hannah had finished the account of the kiss beneath the stairs, Natalie had collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles.

“Natalie,” Hannah said, frowning, “clearly I haven’t managed to convey how dreadful that man was. Is. He’s a barbarian. A brute. A clod.”

“Apparently so.” Still chortling, Natalie sat up. “I look forward to meeting him.”

“What?”

“He’s quite manipulative, our Mr. Bowman. He knew you would tell me what he had done, and that I would be intrigued. And when I see him in Hampshire, he’ll act the perfect gentleman in the hopes of setting me off balance.”

“You shouldn’t be intrigued, you should be appalled!”

Natalie smiled and patted her hand. “Oh, Hannah, you don’t know how to manage men. You mustn’t take everything so seriously.”

“But courtship is a serious matter,” Hannah protested. It was at moments like this that she understood the differences between herself and her younger cousin. Natalie seemed to have a more thorough understanding of social maneuvering, of the process of pursuit and capture, than Hannah ever would.

“Oh, heavens, the moment a girl approaches courtship as a serious matter is the moment she’s lost the game. We must guard our hearts and hide our feelings carefully, Hannah. It’s the only way to win.”

“I thought courtship was a process of revealing one’s heart,” Hannah said. “Not winning a game.”