Jonathan St. Laurent walked up the steps to the Sheridan townhouse, his heart racing. She was inside. The little sprite who had fueled too many fantasies of late. Her dark-brown eyes gazing into his, the deep rich coils of her russet-brown locks spread out over a pillow, her lips parted as she gasped and moaned his name. She was a woman full of passion—and she scared the bloody hell out of him. She was the only woman he’d ever met who seemed to know exactly who she was and what she wanted out of life. She’d never want a man like him, not really. Her interest in him was no more than a game to her.

And I’m the fool who wants to marry her, if she’ll have me.

He paused at the closed door, hesitating. Sweat gathered in his palms as he fought off a rush of nerves. He tugged on his riding gloves, trying to prepare himself to enter. Jonathan paused as he stared hard at the iron lion’s head knocker.

Last Christmas he had made a mess of things, but to be fair, she’d caught him off guard. Lucien had been fighting with Horatia, and he’d encouraged Jonathan to take a firm hold of Audrey and take her up to her room.

It hadn’t gone well at all.

He’d lost control and carried the woman out of the room in his arms. She’d smacked him soundly with a rolled-up fashion-plate magazine and wriggled like a fish. By the time he got her upstairs, his temper and passions were so utterly mixed he couldn’t separate them enough to clear his head. He’d tossed her onto the bed, and she had pulled him down on top of her.

That first kiss—Lord, she had tasted sweet. Her mouth had been as soft as petals and as hot as fire. He had lost control. She was a woman a man could kiss for days and never want to stop. He almost hadn’t. Jonathan had given in to his desires, pinning her down on her bed and claiming her mouth in all the ways he’d dreamed about for months.

And then she’d done something no gentle-born young lady should have known how to do. She’d stroked him. Her touch on his cock, even through his trousers, had nearly killed him. He’d rolled off her and fled the room. If he’d stayed, he would have taken her, with little if any ability to restrain himself.

I’ve been running ever since.

He wanted her so much it hurt, but she was too good for him. Even though her brother and the rest of the League had encouraged the match, Jonathan still felt unworthy. He’d been raised as a servant until he’d turned twenty-four. And then his well-organized world had been turned on its head when he learned he was not only Godric’s half brother, but a legitimate son of their father.

The truth of his birth, although well known, was still spoken of in whispers. Audrey didn’t deserve that kind of cloud over her social life, and he knew how much balls and parties mattered to her. She was a woman who enjoyed life, a woman who loved to laugh, smile, and dance. Until London stopped whispering about him, he couldn’t take a chance by asking her to marry him, no matter how much he wished to.

Having stared at the knocker long enough, he decided against using it and simply entered the townhouse, expecting to find the League filling the hall. Instead, he found himself colliding with the very woman who vexed him.

“Oh… Miss Sheridan,” he managed to say, startled by her loveliness. She blinked and squinted at him, but he didn’t care. She looked as lovely as a woman dressed for a ball. Hell, she’d even looked lovely masquerading as a boy at Fives Court and shouting curses like any man at a boxing match.

Lord, he found her a fascinating creature.

“Mr. St. Laurent,” she replied, her tone frosty. That was certainly his fault. The last time they’d been alone, he’d dragged her away from Fives Court and lectured her on the dangers. She had no idea how precarious her position had been. Fives Court drew gentlemen, but also the dregs of society, men who wouldn’t have backed down had they discovered she was a woman. When he’d realized it was her and not one of the boys worshiping at the altar of Charles as he boxed, Jonathan’s heart had almost leapt out of his chest. His only thought had been to get her to safety. And that little hellion was holding it against him.

Audrey tried to get around him. “Pardon me, I was just about to—”

“Flee?” He arched an eyebrow. She was running away, something she didn’t usually do. Her face was pale and her eyes a little red. She’d been upset? He did the only thing he could do. He challenged her to stay and argue with him.

“I was not fleeing,” she snapped, lifting her chin defiantly. “I have things to do. I cannot have tea with everyone.”

Jonathan grasped her arm, holding her still. He could feel the heat of her skin against his, which set fire to his blood. The urge to swing her around to face him and kiss her was almost overpowering. The only thing that stopped him was knowing her brother was but one door away, and while Cedric approved of the match, he would not approve of his sister being kissed like a common wench in view of everyone. That would get him shot in an instant, even if the kiss was worth dying for.

He tried to bury the thought of kissing her and focus on the fact that she was leaving the house alone.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The look of confusion as she glanced around would have made him laugh on any other occasion. She was so confident she didn’t even think about chaperones. Stubborn creature… adorably stubborn.

“No.” She glowered at him and he rolled his eyes.

“A chaperone. You need one. Where’s Gillian?” He searched the hall for Audrey’s maid. Being a former servant, he never took them for granted. Audrey’s maid was usually quite good at keeping her mistress out of trouble. Gillian was normally Audrey’s shadow. The two were rarely apart, but there was no sign of the quiet lady’s maid now.

“A chaperone? I certainly do not need one, and Gillian is running errands for me. Now good day.” She ripped her arm from his with surprising force for one so small. He wanted to stop her, to call out and beg her to stay, but he was frozen at the top of the steps as she hurried away into a hired coach. Where the devil was she off to?

“Sir, would you like to join the others for tea?” the footman, Sean Hartley, asked. Jonathan spun to face him.

“Er… No. Where you know where Miss Sheridan went?”

Sean shook his head. “I wish I knew. She made no mention to the staff that she was leaving.”

“Hellfire and damnation!” Jonathan cursed. “Sean, fetch my horse.” He ran back to the steps, keeping his eye on Audrey’s coach as it rattled down the street. A minute later, a groom returned with his horse, which hadn’t been settled within the Sheridan stables. Jonathan merely nodded at the groom before he swung himself up into the saddle and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. He urged it into a canter to catch up with Audrey’s coach, but not too close. He couldn’t let her know he was following her, at least not until he figured out what she was up to.

Her coach stopped in front of an establishment he knew only too well. The Midnight Garden. It was a high-end brothel, but still a damned brothel and no place for virginal gently-born ladies like Audrey. Jonathan reined his horse in, slowing enough that he stayed far back from her hackney. Should she decide to glance around, he didn’t want her to see him.

“What the devil are you up to?” he muttered as he dismounted and walked his horse toward the entrance of the Garden. He could see Audrey disappear into a door at the side of the building. A servant came down the steps to take his horse, and Jonathan handed the mare over to him.

“Where does that door lead?” he asked the man as he pointed at the side entrance.

“Private rooms for gentlemen or ladies who have made appointments and don’t wish to be seen.”

Jonathan huffed. So, Audrey thought she could go to a house of pleasure to satisfy her urges? Over his dead body. He’d known the moment he’d kissed her at Christmas that she was no wilting flower or trembling virgin who feared passion. She was a wanton, wild creature who longed for physical love as much as he did, but if she wanted someone to experience lovemaking with, it would not be some man in a pleasure den. Audrey deserved to learn at the hands of a gentleman, or at least someone who was doing his best to be one at the moment.

He strode down the alley, ignoring the shout from the servant to stop. If the man came after him, he would lay the fellow flat with one good punch.

When he reached the door, he found it unlocked. He burst inside, not knowing what to expect, and was surprised to find a silk-wallpapered corridor with gilded lamps that resembled the rest of the house. There were doors along either side, which probably contained entertaining rooms. Most of the bedrooms were upstairs.

“My lord?” a woman asked as she exited a chamber next to him. Her partially exposed bosom and painted face were meant to enhance her looks, but they failed.

“I’m looking for a woman, this high.” He held his hand up to his chest, showing the other woman how short Audrey was. “She’s wearing a blue cambric gown and has dark hair and dark eyes.”

“She’s with Rufus, the first door on the left,” the woman whispered huskily. He ignored her open invitation.

He stomped past her. “Thank you.” When he reached the door, it was partially open. The voices were soft murmurs, but he knew if he opened the door, he’d hear better. Jonathan braced himself for a fight as he nudged the door with his boot hard enough that it swung open. He saw a tall man leaning over a couch, and Audrey’s slippered feet were visible between the man’s parted thighs. The man had cornered her against the couch. His words filled Jonathan with a blinding rage.

“It has been ages since I’ve tasted a young, pretty peach like you.”

Curling his hands into fists, Jonathan took one step into the room.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a while longer.”

The man, Rufus, spun, his eyes widening. “My lord?” He stepped sideways, avoiding blocking Audrey from Jonathan’s view. Smart man. If Rufus had tried to stay between him and Audrey, Jonathan would have laid him out with one good punch.

“The lady does not require your services,” Jonathan informed him. “So get the bloody hell out of this room before I throw you out.”

Rufus shot one last glance at Audrey before he bolted.

“Mr. St. Laurent!” Audrey leapt up from the couch, a honeyed fire lighting her brown eyes as she came toe to toe with him. “How dare you follow me. How dare you interrupt my private engagement!”

“Private engagement? You are not going to be needing any services here. Do you understand?”

Audrey raised her reticule and whacked him soundly on the shoulder.

“Oomph!” He winced. What did she have inside the damned glittery little bag?

“Get out of my way. I’m going to find the madam and have you thrown out.” She started to march past him like a feisty army general, but he caught her by the waist. Before she could stop him, he tossed her over his shoulder and left the room. If she wanted lessons in seduction, she was going to be schooled by him and no one else.