The night he left Ivy standing in her foyer, soft and boneless from a rocketing climax, his neck warm from her breath, his fingers warmer still from her heat, Sebastian knew what he must do.

Distance. He needed to distance himself. At least temporarily. The taste of her mouth, the feel of Ivy in his arms, none of it was conducive to his plans of ruining her. Somehow, during their time together, during waltzes and suppers, and afternoon teas, he began regarding her in a different fashion. Not as prey, but as an incredibly desirable young woman he was developing an increasing fascination for.

The roads to Kent were in good condition and bore no reason for his delay this afternoon. Three broken harness straps on his matched gray geldings. Three. It was foolish to ignore his coachman earlier when the man protested pushing the beasts to greater speeds. Once the leather snapped, forcing them to limp to a nearby inn, the older man looked at Sebastian and simply shook his head in exasperation, as if to say, ‘I told you so.'

Sebastian did not elaborate on the reason for the breakneck speed he demanded. Instead, he barked orders to repair the damn harness quickly so they could continue on to Bentley Park.

Two weeks had passed since seeing Ivy, and his hunger was sharp. Time could not dull the memory of her smile, or the sparkle of her eyes when amused. Distance did not explain his inability to concentrate on estate matters. Or why the purchase of five racehorses paled in comparison to her lips and their sweet taste of oranges and honey. Even when he worked to the point of exhaustion, images of her silky flesh filling his hands crept into his dreams every night, denying him the black oblivion of sleep. His thoughts overflowed with her and Sebastian hated that fact almost as much as he knew he should hate her.

“Remember Timothy.” The mantra was often repeated. Revenge was a messy, ugly business. Glowing eyes and sweet, sweet lips should not sway him.

Two hours idle waiting on repairs ought to have provided additional time to steel his resolve. It only allowed his emotions to simmer. Reaching Bentley Park, Sebastian’s temper seethed just below a deceptively calm surface.

It mounted by degrees when Ivy was unseen among the sixty guests gathered at the estate. Hot, dusty, impatient, Sebastian straddled a razor’s edge to see her. The irritation experienced when she was not immediately available to soothe his senses was vastly disturbing.

Inquiries revealed her location on the west lawn where several guests gathered to try their hands at archery. Sebastian nearly sprinted down the oak-shaded lane toward the range until, with a muttered curse, he forced himself to a more dignified stroll.

Gathered in the slope of a small valley, a group of brightly dressed gentlemen and ladies mingled. Ivy and Sara stood at a marked chalk line, holding bows notched with arrows. A young man, slightly pudgy and earnest of face, hovered at Ivy’s side. She listened intently to him, brow furrowed in concentration.

Alan, watching the girls with a slight frown marring his brow, caught sight of Sebastian. Waving a hand in greeting, he excused himself from a cluster of men observing the proceedings with unusual interest.

Ivy glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian’s approach, but there was no smile of welcome. The line of her mouth tightened, her attention flicking back to Lord Kessler as he repositioned her fingers upon the string.

There was no ignoring the twist of excitement in his stomach, even with her obvious dismissal. It was damned difficult to tear his eyes away from her. Why did he stay away for so long? Whatever the reason, it was a mistake.

“Glad you could make it, Seb.” The two men shared a brotherly embrace. “I was beginning to think we might not see you at all.”

“Broke three harness straps. I stopped at the Red Lion for repairs.”

“Racing the Devil himself…that’s not like you,” Alan said before adding with a faint scowl, “now that you’ve arrived, you can assist in an important matter. I’ve not had a blasted moment alone with Lady Sara since her arrival yesterday.”

“You require my help in this, of all things?” Sebastian’s brow lifted. “You’re lord and master here. Arrange a rendezvous in the library or a drawing room. You’ve never had difficulties before coercing women into darkened corners.”

Alan’s gaze fixed on Sara while they strolled some distance away to discuss matters in a more practical manner. “Her oldest cousin accompanied the girls to act as chaperone. But where Lady Burkestone proves lax in her duties, Lady Ivy takes up the reins. And there’s a damn maid capable of snapping out of a dead sleep the instant I come within twenty steps. Between them all, there’s not been a single opportunity to make so much as an inappropriate suggestion. You will be a welcome distraction, for one of them at least.”

“I’m of no help with a bothersome maid.” Sebastian’s eyes snapped to Ivy when she laughed at something Kessler said. “And I cannot promise a miracle with Ivy.”

Alan shot him a questioning look. “She’s not once mentioned your name. Where the hell have you been? I heard you went to Scotland.”

“After four years abroad, my attention was required at my estates. And yes, I was in Scotland. Those racers I purchased were at Hawick and I went to retrieve them.” Sebastian nearly growled his response.

Bentley snorted in disbelief. “I’m glad you could forgo your responsibilities. For this weekend, at least.” Nodding toward Ivy and Kessler, he said, “She’s charmed everyone. Away from the Pack, out of London, and she’s a different person. Relaxed, and with a devilishly engaging sense of humor. Half the men here are mad for her. I don’t believe her fortune even factors into their affections, and there’s been no mention of that rather scandalous wager. Do you find that odd?”

“I don’t care if they are all hopelessly in love with her,” Sebastian’s expression was sullen. What had he lost during his absence? “I am pursuing her.”

The two girls both readied their aim and let loose the arrows. Sara’s landed close to the bullseye while Ivy’s arrow hit the outside rings. Several guests clapped. Kessler gave a hoot of admiration for Sara’s aim. In quick fashion, they notched a second round of arrows, and again, the young lord stepped behind Ivy, this time fitting his body to hers. Guiding the bow to a better position, he gripped her elbow, situating it slightly higher. When she drew back on the weapon, her wrist located next to her ear, Kessler’s mouth hovered there as he imparted advice.

When his hand drifted to casually rest on the swell of Ivy’s hip, holding her flush alongside him, fingers flexing tight enough to leave indentations on her silk skirt, Sebastian’s shaky temper reached a flashpoint.

“Bloody hell.” The curse whistled out before he could bite it back.

“Careful, Ravenswood,” Bentley laughed as Sebastian stalked away. “She is armed, after all.”

* * *

Even before Sebastian appeared on the hillcrest, with that fierce expression on his stern face, Ivy knew he had arrived. Maybe it was a change in the wind or the way the back of her neck prickled, the hair standing on end. An electric charge, like that the air carried just before a summer thunderstorm, rolled through her and she just knew.

He’s here.

Conflicting emotions swelled in her heart as Sebastian stalked down the hill, the breeze playfully tossing his raven-dark hair about. She wanted to run to him. Throw herself into his arms and beg him to never let her go. She wanted him to kiss her. Hear him say he missed her. And she wanted to strike him until his handsome face turned red from the heat of her palms. He should know he meant nothing to her and she did not care if she ever saw him again.

She did none of these things. When she threw Sara a helpless glance, she mouthed back a clear directive, “Ignore him!”

Swallowing her heart, which was for some reason lodged in her throat, Ivy did just that. She allowed Kessler to position her fingers on the bowstring, his instructions a meaningless drone in her ears. She could not even see the target. It blurred in her vision as all senses tuned to Sebastian. Alan greeted him, the two men walking some distance away for a low, murmured conversation. When Lord Kessler situated her for the second shot, she became vaguely aware of his hand applying a light but steady pressure just above the curvature of her hip.

Sebastian is coming. The air positively vibrated with waves of possession. Ivy fumed. Did he think he could reappear and his absence be forgiven? There wasn’t even a note explaining where he’d gone. It was only because of a conversation overheard between two women, former mistresses no doubt, that she learned he’d gone to visit a number of his estates before traveling to Scotland, of all places. Scotland.

The earl’s low growl held the power to freeze a lion in mid-pounce.

“Step away, Kessler.”

Scotland. I was forgotten in favor of the desolate barrenness of Scotland. Ivy swung about, the arrow leveled at Sebastian’s heart.

Kessler, a red flush staining the round cheeks up to the tips of his ears, scrambled a good ten feet away from her backside as a collective gasp swept the crowd. With a litany of choked curses, two gentlemen landed flat on the ground. Others simply knelt low enough to stay beneath the arrow’s range.

“Your assistance is not required, Lord Ravenswood.” She held Sebastian squarely in the bow’s sights.

An agonizingly long moment passed. Realizing their souls were safe, the two men hoisted themselves from the lawn. Sweeping bits of grass and dirt from their breeches with brisk slaps, they ignored ladies tittering behind upraised hands and tilted parasols.

“For God’s sake, woman,” Sebastian hissed, immobilized by Ivy’s unblinking gaze and steady aim. “Must I be sacrificed as a demonstration of your inexperience?”

Pinning him with a steely glare for a brief second, Ivy suddenly whirled, prompting another flinching wave to ripple through the crowd. The same two gentlemen, plus three more, dropped like stones.

With the barest of consideration, the arrow flew.

No one saw Ivy’s satisfied smile when the weapon hit dead center of the distant target with a satisfying thump. Sara’s muffled snort of amusement filled the astounded silence.

“I say,” Kessler said hesitantly. “I’m a far better tutor than I thought!”

Ivy lowered the bow. Everyone commenced to chattering all at once. The five men, rising to their feet, sheepishly chuckled amongst themselves. Alan, with an exasperated glance at Sebastian, brushed past to take Sara’s bow.

“Lady Sara, would you accompany me for a stroll around the lake? I’m sure your delicate hands need a respite and I, for one, would enjoy the exercise.” His joviality sounded forced when he turned to Ivy and Sebastian, now glaring at one another with enough heat to set the surrounding trees ablaze. “Lady Ivy? Will you join us? For propriety’s sake, of course.”

“An excellent idea!” Kessler exclaimed as Ivy silently ripped off the gloves protecting her fingertips. “I’m happy to escort you, Lady Kinley-”

“Like hell you will,” Sebastian snarled. Shoving past the man, he reached Ivy in two strides, yanking bow and gloves from her to toss them aside. She gasped at his rudeness while Kessler shot back as though scalded by hot water. Ravenswood’s open hostility froze the young man with uncertainty.

Not averse to digging heels into the gravel should her protection be required, Sara gave Ivy a wink and cheerfully stated, “It’s a foolish man that underestimates Lady Ivy Kinley, Lord Ravenswood. She’s full of surprises. Why, just last year…”

Sebastian and Alan exchanged glances, a subtle, mutual nod passing between them. Then Alan tugged Sara toward the distant lake, cutting off whatever else she might have said.

Three young women surrounded Kessler, insisting on gathering up the discarded items for him. Their conversation quickly turned to requests for tutorage in archery. Watching for a second, Ivy went to join them but found her arm within Sebastian’s unyielding grasp. When she tried to struggle free, he gave her an invisible, warning jerk and turned her toward the path.

Sara threw a distressed glance over her shoulder while Alan inexorably marched her at a quick clip until they were several paces ahead. In contrast, Sebastian walked slower than a snail as they followed behind. Not one of the guests seemed inclined to rescue either girl. Even Lady Burkestone, after a considering frown, turned back to the cakes and lemonade table set up in the shade of a huge oak tree. The banter of those at the archery targets faded as the gravel walkway bent and thick trees concealed them from view. Alan and Sara moved so far ahead it was assured all conversations would remain private.

“You had no need of Kessler’s tutelage.” Sebastian sounded abnormally calm.

Ivy shrugged. “I’ve had instruction since the age of five.”

He looked as if he might grind his teeth to dust. “Why the charade? Do you enjoy tempting him?”

She frowned. “What, pray tell, is tempting about archery? I had no wish to embarrass Lord Kessler with my level of expertise.”

He snorted. “Why should you give a shilling about that?”

Jerking her arm from his grasp, Ivy’s pace increased until he gripped her elbow again. He pulled her to a stop while Ivy folded her arms to stare straight ahead. She would not look at him…not while he was being so damnably unkind.

“I asked you a question. Why should you care? About embarrassing him? He means nothing to you.”

It is obviously beyond your comprehension.” Ivy bit out.

“Try me. Although I find I am more curious why Kessler thought he could touch you. His hands were all over you…”

“Why do you care where he places his hands?” She hurled the words at him. “I mean nothing to you.”

“Do not play games with me, Ivy.”

Ivy wanted to throw her hands in the air in exasperation but she stood her ground. A strange spark flickered in Sebastian’s gaze as he stared down at her. He was turning her words over to find a chink in the armor he obviously did not expect. Did all his female conquests welcome him with open arms when he disappeared from their lives for weeks on end, without a word of explanation? If they so, they were weak, foolish chits with jelly for backbones. She felt sorry for the faceless women, suddenly afraid to be counted among their numbers.

“Some of the guests were discussing Lord Kessler’s lack of attributes when it came to outdoor pursuits. Lord Bentley mentioned the archery range, and I noted Kessler’s enthusiasm. I requested his assistance to bolster his confidence. And it worked, before you so rudely yanked me away. Three of those same ladies begged his assistance.” Her tone was acid sweet. “Whatever is the matter, Ravenswood? Jealous if you are not the center of all female attention? Are you that cruel to begrudge poor Kessler just a tiny bit of adoration from the fairer sex? You’ve more than a fair share of it, you pompous ass.”

* * *

Ivy’s explanation of things seemed reasonable, even admirable. Bloody hell, Sebastian felt a shade guilty, being so heavy handed. Did she tell the truth or was she simply a good liar when put on the spot? Her contempt for his display of jealousy stung more than he cared to admit.

Allowing her to ease away, Sebastian retained the hold of her elbow as they resumed walking. His head tilted to the couple ahead of them on the path. “They seem to deal well together.” When Ivy failed to respond, his shoulder nudged hers. “My temper, butterfly. Watching Kessler handle you disturbed me greatly, I’m afraid.”

“Your temper?” Ivy’s brow arched. “The one you never lose?”

“The same.”

“I don’t understand you, Lord Ravenswood,” she confessed.

“You are hardly alone in that, my dear, and are we back to formal titles? Although I confess, ‘Lord Ravenswood’ has a much nicer ring than ‘pompous ass.'” He grinned. “Come now. Let us find more pleasant matters to discuss. Tell me your opinion of Bentley and Lady Morgan’s budding romance.”

Again, Sebastian knew Ivy’s innermost thoughts from the expressive light in her eyes. She did not trust his motives and was still angry, but she would permit the argument to die.

“Sara enjoys the earl’s company a great deal.” Her reply was cautious.

“You adore her, don’t you?”

“She’s been my dearest friend since we met at finishing school. Have you and Lord Bentley been friends for long?”

“Since childhood. Fortunately, Alan has always believed in me or should I say, the good in me,” Sebastian said with a dry laugh, linking their arms together. Ivy briefly resisted before surrendering like a lamb led to slaughter. “Would you be happy if they married?”

“It is what Sara desires. The earl is quite handsome, and he would provide well. Most importantly, he’s very kind and seems to worship her.”

Watching the couple duck out of sight and behind a tree, Sebastian chuckled. “I imagine Alan is stealing a kiss right now.”

A reluctant smile broke across Ivy’s face. “Lord Bentley has managed to sneak more than one past my surveillance. I’m afraid I’m a dreadful chaperone.”

“It would be awful for us to impede the course of true love.” Sebastian led Ivy off the path, disregarding her gasp of shock. “It suffers terribly without the numerous obstacles constantly tossed in its way.” Leaning against the rough bark of a sheltering elm, he dragged her against him, one arm wrapped tight around her waist, holding her immobile. “I missed you.”

Ivy’s chin tilted at the pressure of his forefinger tracing the curve of her jaw. “Did you?” She tried sounding cool and detached, but her breath hitched the slightest bit.

“Yes.” His dark eyes delved into her soul. “I did. I do. Far more than what is rational, unfortunately.”

Ivy was silent before blurting out, “You forgot about me.”

“Never.” Sebastian’s finger drifted down the arch of her neck. “How can I ever forget you? Or how you moaned my name when I touched you?”

Ivy shivered, her aqua blue eyes clashing with his. “Where were you, Sebastian?” The question was a whisper. “Where-”

“Does it matter?” he murmured. “I’m here now.”

Sebastian could not explain this growing obsession. And reconciling that obsession with revenge was becoming a difficult task. He wanted her. With every loose thread of his soul, he craved her.

This hunger, it was disturbing. Ivy’s smile entranced him. Those huge eyes of hers, the color of the sea on a summer day, made for drowning in. Some mornings he awoke with fingers tingling from dreams of stroking the petal softness of her cheek. Dammit, even her perfume intoxicated him. That curious mix of oranges and lilies possessed the power to tangle him into curious knots, leaving his mouth dry with lust. He thought about it at the oddest times.

Bringing both hands up to cradle her face, he used his tongue to trace the seam of her lips, waiting for them to part. When they did, he slid inside, gently exploring her mouth with long, slow sweeps until she gripped his forearms for support. She tasted of wildflower honey and lemonade. When he finally raised his head, the golden flecks in the depths of her eyes shimmered up at him like flashes of sunlight on the ocean. Intriguing how he could make her storm clouds dissipate with just a few simple kisses. It was knowledge he would use to full advantage.

He loved how her pulse pounded against the tips of his fingers. Like a tiny sparrow beating its wings, hopelessly captured in the cage of his palms. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

Breathless, Ivy leaned into him, hands braced against his chest, her face tilted to his. “Like what?” Chestnut curls tumbled to the indentation of her waist, and should he wrap his arms completely around her, those soft ringlets would tickle his hands.

“As if you wish to finish what we began that night…” The pulse at the base of Ivy’s throat leaped at the whispered suggestion and Sebastian smiled as he abruptly pulled her back into the sunlight.

Sara and Alan had returned to the path as well, laughing with one another. Not once did they glance back at their trailing chaperones.

Sebastian took Ivy’s hand, their fingers twining loosely. She blinked several times to regain her senses, stunned at being kissed in shady seclusion one moment to walking sedately in the sunshine the next. Small quivers revealed themselves in her fingers when his lips brushed across her knuckles in the softest of caresses.

Sebastian did not bother to hide a wolfish grin of satisfaction.

* * *

Ivy did not expect to find Sebastian’s circle of friends to be so kind and gracious, although a handful appeared genuinely confused by her attendance at Lord Bentley’s country party. It amazed her that all followed Sebastian’s lead without question. The subtle display of his powerful influence was proving every bit as advantageous as she hoped.

Following dinner, a spirited game of whist ensued, with gentlemen pitted against the ladies. Partnered with Sara, Ivy suspected Sebastian and Alan of throwing their hands more than once. She wished to seize his cards and reveal the truth, but that would be bad form.

Sebastian glanced up from his bourbon as if sensing her thoughts. “You are by far the better player, Lady Ivy.”

“If you believed that, you would play to win.” Ivy gestured at the cards. “It is beyond fantastical we bested you and Lord Bentley in the last five hands. You will not hurt our feelings by winning a hand or two.”

“Perhaps I am only lulling you into a false sense of security with a display of my incompetence before I take all.”

Sebastian’s eyes shone bright with something unknown. For a brief moment, Ivy wondered if she were being pacified into compliance in other matters. Her fingers tightened on the cards she still held.

“No need to mollycoddle us, Lord Ravenswood,” Sara said with an arched brow.

Ivy laid the cards down before she bent them beyond repair. “We could win, even if you play your best.”

“Is that so?” A grin of pure devilment crossed Sebastian’s features, his gaze never leaving hers. “I propose a wager to settle the matter.”

Laughter rippled in the wake of his comment, ears pricking at the mention of ‘wager.” The two smiling so pleasantly across the card table were players in the most well-known stakes in all of London.

Lady Burkestone piped in, conflicted if she was expected to stop something potentially scandalous. “I say, might this be a bit improper?”

Sebastian shot the woman a quelling glance. “Probably. By the way, Lady Burkestone, are you aware Lord Bentley’s chef concocts the most wondrous strawberry tarts this side of Paris? They really are a marvel. I understand they are on the menu for tomorrow and he always begins their preparation the night before. Something about the strawberries having to set properly…”

“You don’t say? How interesting.” Lady Burkestone rose from her chair, unable to resist the lure of the decadent treat. “I think I’ll run to the kitchens and have a peek. Our own cook has an absolute talent for ruining strawberry tarts. It’s quite awful, really. There must be a trick to the process I can make note of.”

When she was gone, Ivy shook her head at Sebastian. “Do you think this is wise? After all, you have no real knowledge of my skill at whist.”

“And you’ve no knowledge of my skill at winning wagers.”

“My lord, you are either very brave or very foolish. Perhaps both. So, tell me, what is your bet? It must be agreed to before it can be properly done.”

“A little thing to most, but I claim a kiss as my prize,” Sebastian’s smile was serene. Murmurs rumbled amongst the men while several ladies leaned forward to impart their most sincere advice on how to best lose the game.

Ivy had no intention of losing. Holding up a hand to halt any further words of encouragement to that end, she considered the earl. “A kiss and my ruined reputation? It is far too steep for a simple game of whist. When I win, what prize shall I claim?”

“Why, naturally, a kiss. Would any of you consider less?” Addressing the ladies, Sebastian garnered a round of emphatic headshakes and vows to the contrary.

Ivy laughed in amused disbelief at his audacious statement. “No matter who wins, you emerge the victor while I’m left with a reputation in tatters.”

“That is the crux of the issue I face, my dear.” He winked at her. “Should I lose to win, or play to lose? Either way, I will delight in the outcome.”

Ivy’s complaint was half-hearted. Her reputation already hovered on the verge of ruin. She would not think about that now, not with Sebastian grinning at her like that. The prospect of winning or losing the wager was quite titillating. Oh, her reputation be damned! The gauntlet flung at her feet caused a surge of excitement to tilt her stomach. How enjoyable it would be to beat him at something. It wasn’t fair the handsome devil should find victory in everything.

To be honest, the abandonment over the past two weeks still nipped her. Despite the unspoken acceptance of his unorthodox apology, she wanted to beat him. If only for the momentary satisfaction it provided. Sebastian found it easy to overlook her existence and she wished to prove, if only to herself, she wasn’t one of the many spineless women he surrounded himself with.

Sebastian shuffled the cards. “Is it a play or no? Mind you, this will not be a quick, impersonal peck. I shall accept nothing less than a full minute of your…undivided attention.”

Ivy’s heart skipped as his voice curled around her. He clearly referred to the night of the opera. Arching a brow, it was just as clear he wanted her to remember. But which part? The kisses in the coach? Or the moment he showed her paradise on the tips of his fingers? The slow grin spreading across his handsome face told her. His fingers thrusting between her legs, hot and insistent, demanding she succumb to bliss…

“I would be a fool to agree to those terms.” Her face felt hot enough to burst into flames. If anyone guessed her thoughts…

“I would never mistake you for a fool, Countess, but a kiss is what I wish for my forfeit.” He knew she was remembering the moment she climaxed, pressed against the wall of her foyer.

The others watched with curious half smiles. Sara wore a perplexed frown, trying to determine what had just occurred.

“I agree with that portion of your terms only,” Ivy said in a voice as shaky as her knees. Sebastian Cain was far too gorgeous and far too bloody sure of himself. Was it possible to bring the arrogant devil down a notch or two? Because it wasn’t right to remind her of tender kisses and burning caresses and then give her that cocky grin when he knew full well she wanted more. “For my own wager, you shall serve as my groom during the picnic and the ride tomorrow. A humbled earl is the prize.” The ladies murmured at the cleverness of the terms while several gentlemen grinned at her naiveté behind raised tumblers of brandy and port.

Something dark and mysterious flitted in Sebastian’s eyes. Agreeing without hesitation, he kissed her hand over the whist table to seal the bargain, and Ivy experienced a moment of unease.

“I do hope to prevail. My wager would be the more pleasant undertaking.” Sebastian motioned for Alan and Sara to pull their chairs closer.

“The idea of you chastened is quite pleasing, my lord,” Ivy purred. “I shall employ all my skills to ensure success.”

While watching the battle over terms, Alan smiled in appreciation for what he considered harmless fun. Sara grimaced with concern. Any attempt to intercede, he interrupted, warning her with a murmured, “Let them be.” Now, they both frowned, realizing their mistake as Sebastian dealt the cards.

“I do expect you to act the part in every way, including mucking out stalls.” Ivy flashed him another impudent smile.

“I fail to see the necessity of manual labor.” Sebastian paused in mid-deal, his brow furrowed.

“Afraid of the consequences when you lose?”

“I’ll have that kiss, my lady.”

Ivy nodded as the game began in earnest. “We shall see.”

An hour later, the final card flipped, and Ivy gave an unladylike hoot of triumph. Her reputation would remain in its only slightly tattered state for the time being. Sara breathed a sigh of relief, squeezing Ivy’s hand beneath the table while Sebastian and Alan each executed gallant bows. They retreated as others gathered around to offer congratulations.

“Here! Here!” Lord Bancroft, an old friend from Oxford days, raised his glass in a tipsy salute. “To Ravenswood! He emerges the victor after all!” A chorus of boos and cries met his words.

“Are you mad, Bancroft? The earl must play the groom after all,” Lady Ansley giggled, giving Ivy a wink. “You should have Ravenswood perform all manners of beastly, disagreeable things, Lady Kinley. It’s not often you have an earl at your beck and call!”

Bancroft snorted, wrapping his arms around his stomach to contain his merriment. Port spilled, creating a scarlet stain on his peach hued silk waistcoat. “Nothing requested by the countess could be deemed disagreeable. If it is a beast she needs, I imagine that will be seen to as well. Ravenswood, do not hesitate to call upon me should you need help. Indeed, the three of us could have a jolly time.” The handsome young lord swayed, turning a leering, alcoholic-fueled smirk to Ivy.

“Make your apologies, Bancroft. Now. Or would a private meeting at dawn be preferable?”

Sebastian’s voice was a sudden plunge through the fragile ice of a pond in the dead of winter. Instant. Immersive. Freezing. Dark winds swirled through the room, sucking the conversation and all warm joviality into a vacuum of silence. All eyes turned to the earl; a rigid statute by the fireplace with eyes of scorching black.

Ivy shivered. This was Sebastian on the night of the Sheffield Ball, the night he hunted her with icy intent, ready to destroy and rip her to shreds. A glacier existed inside his soul, the ability to hurt another. That ice threatened to encase her only a month ago, but she’d forgotten the danger while basking in the warm summer of his smile. Yes, she’d seen this man before, and he terrified her.

Bancroft blinked stupidly. He stared at Sebastian for several seconds, the appropriate words rattling around before they managed to roll off his tongue. “Sorry, old chap. Didn’t mean to offend-”

“Not me, you drunken buffoon.” With lethal calm, Sebastian slowly tilted his head in Ivy’s direction.

Bancroft was intoxicated, his words meaningless and offensive in a manner Ivy did not completely understand. But Sebastian did. His gaze bore into the other man with cold intensity.

Bancroft swung toward her. A belated sense of self-preservation seemed to filter through his befuddled haze. A private meeting at dawn meant one thing only. “My apologies, Lady Kinley.” Bowing in her general direction, he nearly toppled over a table before catching himself on the edge of it. “I fear I’m not fit for civilized company this evening. Again, my apologies.”

Ivy nodded, her eyes locking with Sebastian’s as Bancroft’s entreaty, punctuated by several hiccups, echoed in the awkward silence. The man made his exit, knocking over an ornate tea table in the process as Sebastian accepted a tumbler of whiskey from a somber servant. The atmosphere of the room quickly returned to its former gaiety.

* * *

“Smartly done,” Alan murmured.

“Do you imply I lost on purpose?” Sebastian’s lips quirked.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. Although, I should have seen that coming. Bancroft has not lost the tendency to get deep in his cups. I hope this will not put a damper on the remainder of the weekend.”

“It won’t. He can sleep off his stupidity, and you can be glad I do not have to kill him. That would have surely ruined the party.”

Alan’s smile widened. “There’s little doubt you’ve staked your claim now. First, the incident at the archery range, now this. And, I hope you appreciate my efforts on your behalf. Good God, I’ve never played at whist so terribly in my life.”

“Nor have I. However, I had complete confidence in my ability, and yours, to lose gracefully without arousing suspicion.” Sebastian played very hard to lose. As Ivy’s groom, there was the opportunity to touch her quite often. Hell, he’d muck out a stall or two if the possibility existed of stealing a kiss, or more, from her. She could not know what she wagered. Or did she?

“I should have made a similar bet with Sara,” Alan mused in regret.

“You’ve no need for such underhanded methods, Alan. Lady Morgan gives you no cause to devise such elaborate schemes. I must press any advantage to overcome Lady Kinley’s suspicions.”

“Should she suspect your motives, Seb? I cannot allow any harm to come to her. She is quite dear to Sara and Sara is dear to me, so naturally, I have an interest in their mutual contentment.”

At the disapproving undercurrent in Alan’s tone, Sebastian shuttered his eyes. “Considering our circumstances, is it any wonder the countess harbors some degree of suspicion? I hold her in the highest esteem, and she intrigues me. She appears to enjoy my company. I delight in hers. What is wrong with a bit of contrivance if it accomplishes the chance to spend the afternoon close to her?”

“Do not hurt her, Seb.”

“I’ve no intention of doing so.”

Giving Sebastian a silent, thorough consideration, Alan wordlessly clinked his glass to his and returned to Sara’s side.

Bentley was becoming quite fond of Ivy. He would not stand by and allow her destruction. He would be heartbroken to discover the truth later. Sebastian felt a twinge of apprehension to realize he might lose another close friend because of a woman. A strange wistfulness abruptly overcame him as Nicholas March, the absent piece to the former trio of the friendship, rose to mind.

The three of them became men together, experiencing adventures and surviving the various scrapes young gentlemen of leisure were wont to find themselves in. Sebastian foolishly believed nothing could destroy that bond. Then, Marilee twitched her tail, pitting friend against friend. Nicholas attempted to explain his betrayal only once; the dreadful night Sebastian discovered his fiancée’s unfaithfulness. He cut Nicholas’ excuses short in a fierce rage. While Alan struggled to pull them apart, they brawled like commoners on the steps of Nick’s London townhouse.

Two days later, they met on a misty field in Regent Park. Sebastian had Alan and Timothy for seconds, but Nick stood resolute and alone. He refused to name seconds, remarking with a rueful smile only two men were worthy enough to serve at his side, and unfortunately, they stood on the field opposite him. Alan, pale and visibly shaken that morning, lamented the loss of their friendship while Timothy spewed curses and insults, threatening to shoot Landon himself if Sebastian did not.

To his credit, Nick ignored the brash young man, and seemed strangely willing to die in Sebastian’s quest for satisfaction. True, he fired his weapon first, but into the air and not at his target, while Sebastian missed his aim at the last second, the bullet skimming the outer edge of Landon’s upper thigh.

Afterward, Sebastian wondered why Nicholas never corrected the gossip or laid the blame for the duel at his feet. Nick merely smiled whenever the three of them encountered one another, those dark, green eyes of his glittering with something oddly resembling pity. His manner, considered cold by those outside their tight circle, evolved into something cruel and mocking. Six months after the duel, he set sail in his private yacht to various ports for the next two years. The departure, without a word of explanation, nearly drove the Duke of Richeforte, into an apoplectic fit of rage. It put the old man abed for close to a week and from all accounts, that pleased young Nicholas immensely when he learned of it.

Maybe it was due to the incident with Bancroft, or maybe it stemmed from seeing Nick the night of the opera, but Sebastian could not ignore the bizarre spasm of nostalgia for his deceitful friend. The walls of his chest clenched, an uncomfortable, hot tightness rattling his bones. He dismissed it to seek out the countess, finding it far easier to forget old betrayals and the disloyalty of those once trusted in the sunshine warmth of Ivy’s smile.