It was not easy to ask a favor of a woman who despised him. But Andrew, Lord Drake, had always been beyond shame, and today was no exception. He needed a favor from a morally upright woman, and Miss Caroline Hargreaves was the only decent female he knew. She was proper and straitlaced to a fault . . . and he wasn’t the only man to think so, judging by the fact that she was still unmarried at the age of twenty-six.

“Why are you here?” Caroline asked, her voice threaded with quiet hostility. She kept her gaze fastened on the large square frame propped by the settee, a wooden lace stretcher used to reshape curtains and tablecloths after they were washed. The task was a meticulous one, involving sticking a pin through each tiny loop of lace and affixing it to the edge of the frame until the cloth was drawn tight. Although Caroline’s face was expressionless, her inner tension was betrayed by the stiffness of her fingers as she fumbled with a paper of pins.

“I need something from you,” Andrew said, staring at her intently. It was probably the first time he had ever been completely sober around her, and now that he was free of his habitual alcoholic haze, he had noticed a few things about Miss Caroline Hargreaves that intrigued him.

She was far prettier than he had thought. Despite the little spectacles perched on her nose, and her frumpy manner of dressing, she possessed a subtle beauty that had escaped him before. Her figure was not at all spectacular—Caroline was small and slight, with practically no hips or breasts to speak of. Andrew preferred big, voluptuous women who were willing to engage in the vigorous bedroom romps he enjoyed. But Caroline had a lovely face, with velvety brown eyes and thick black lashes, surmounted by dark brows that arched with the precision of a hawk’s wing. Her hair was a neatly pinned mass of sable silk, and her complexion was as fine and clear as a child’s. And that mouth . . . why in God’s name had he never noticed her mouth before? Delicate, expressive, the upper lip small and bow shaped, the lower curved with generous fullness.

Right now those tempting lips were pulled tight with displeasure, and her brow was furrowed in a perplexed expression. “I can’t conceive of what you could possibly want from me, Lord Drake,” Caroline said crisply. “However, I can assure you that you won’t get it.”

Andrew laughed suddenly. He threw a glance at his friend Cade—Caroline’s younger brother—who had brought him to the parlor of the Hargreaves family home. Having predicted that Caroline would not be willing to help him in any way, Cade now looked both annoyed and resigned at his sister’s stubbornness. “I told you,” Cade murmured.

Not willing to give up so easily, Andrew returned his attention to the woman seated before him. He considered her thoughtfully, trying to decide what approach to use. No doubt she was going to make him crawl . . . not that he blamed her for that in the least.

Caroline had never made a secret of her dislike for him, and Andrew knew exactly why. For one thing, he was a bad influence on her younger brother Cade, a pleasant-natured fellow who was far too easily swayed by the opinions of his friends. Andrew had invited Cade along on far too many wild evenings of gambling, drinking, and debauchery, and returned him home in a sorry condition.

As Cade’s father was dead, and his mother was a hopeless feather-wit, Caroline was the closest thing to a parent that Cade had. She tried her best to keep her twenty-four-year-old brother on the straight-and-narrow path, wanting him to assume his responsibilities as the man of the family. However, Cade naturally found it more tempting to emulate Andrew’s profligate lifestyle, and the two of them had indulged in more than a few dissolute evenings.

The other reason that Caroline despised Andrew was the simple fact that they were complete opposites. She was pure. He was tarnished. She was honest. He tailored the truth to fit his own purposes. She was self-disciplined. He had never restrained himself in any regard. She was calm and serene. He had never known a moment’s peace in his life. Andrew envied her, and so he had mocked her mercilessly on the few previous occasions when they had met.

Now Caroline hated him, and he had come to ask for a favor—a favor he desperately needed. Andrew found the situation so amusing that a wry smile cut through tension on his face.

Abruptly he decided to be blunt. Miss Caroline Hargreaves did not seem to be the kind of woman who would tolerate game playing and prevarication. “I’m here because my father is dying,” he said.

The words caused her to accidentally prick her finger, and she jumped slightly. Her gaze lifted from the lace stretcher. “I am sorry,” she murmured.

“I’m not.”

Andrew saw from the widening of her eyes that she was shocked by his coldness. He did not care. Nothing could make him feign sorrow at the passing of a man who had always been a poor excuse for a father. The earl had never given a damn about him, and Andrew had long ago given up trying to earn the love of a manipulative son of a bitch whose heart was as soft and warm as a block of granite. “The only thing I’m sorry about,” Andrew continued calmly, “is that the earl has decided to disinherit me. You and he seem to share similar feelings about my sinful way of living. My father has accused me of being the most self-indulgent and debased creature he has ever encountered.” A slight smile crossed his lips. “I can only hope that he is right.”

Caroline seemed more than a little perturbed by his statement. “You sound proud of being such a disappointment to him,” she said.

“Oh, I am,” he assured her easily. “My goal was to become as great a disappointment to him as he has been to me. Not an easy task, you understand, but I proved myself equal to it. It has been the greatest success of my life.”

He saw Caroline throw a troubled glance at Cade, who merely shrugged sheepishly and wandered to the window to contemplate the serene spring day outside.

The Hargreaves house was located on the west side of London. It was a pleasant Georgian-style manor house, pink-washed and framed by large beech trees, the kind of home that a solid English family should possess.

“And so,” Andrew continued, “in an eleventh-hour effort to inspire me to reform, the earl has cut me out of his will.”

“But surely he cannot do so entirely,” Caroline said. “The titles, the property in town, and your family’s country estate . . . I would have thought they were entailed.”

“Yes, they are entailed.” Andrew smiled bitterly. “I’ll get the titles and the property no matter what the earl does. He can’t break the entailment any more than I can. But the money—the entire family fortune—that is not entailed. He can leave it to anyone he wishes. And so I’ll likely find myself turning into one of those damned fortune-hunting aristocrats who has to marry some horse-faced heiress with a nice fat dowry.”

“How terrible.” Suddenly Caroline’s eyes were lit with a challenging gleam. “For the heiress, I mean.”

“Caro,” came Cade’s protesting voice.

“That’s all right,” Andrew said. “Any bride of mine would deserve a great deal of sympathy. I don’t treat women well. I’ve never pretended to.”

“What do you mean, you don’t treat women well?” Caroline fumbled with a pin and stuck her finger again. “Are you abusive?”

“No.” He scowled suddenly. “I would never physically harm a woman.”

“You are merely disrespectful to them, then. And no doubt neglectful, and unreliable, and offensive and ungentlemanly.” She paused and looked at him expectantly. When Andrew made no comment, she prompted with an edge to her tone, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he countered with a mocking smile. “Were you asking a question? I thought you were making a speech.”

They regarded each other with narrowed eyes, and Caroline’s pale complexion took on the rosy hue of anger. The atmosphere in the room changed, becoming strangely charged and hot, snapping with tension. Andrew wondered how in the hell a skinny little spinster could affect him like this. He, who had made it a lifetime’s habit never to care about anything or anyone, including himself, was suddenly more troubled and aroused than he could ever recall being before. My God, he thought, I must be one perverted bastard to desire Cade Hargreaves’s sister. But he did. His blood was pumping with heat and energy, and his nerves simmered relentlessly as he thought of the various ways he would like to put that delicate, innocent mouth to use.

It was a good thing that Cade was there. Otherwise Andrew was not certain he could have stopped himself from showing Miss Caroline Hargreaves exactly how depraved he was. In fact, standing up as he was, that fact was soon going to become all too obvious through the thin covering of his fashionably snug fawn-colored trousers. “May I have a seat?” he asked abruptly, gesturing to the chair near the settee she occupied.

Unworldly as she was, Caroline did not seem to notice his burgeoning arousal. “Please do. I can hardly wait to hear the details of this favor you intend to ask, especially in light of the charm and good manners you have displayed so far.”

God, she made him want to laugh, even as he wanted to strangle her. “Thank you.” He sat and leaned forward casually, bracing his forearms on his knees. “If I want to be reinstated in the earl’s will, I have no choice but to indulge him,” he said.

“You intend to change your ways?” Caroline asked skeptically. “To reform yourself?”

“Of course not. My cesspool of a life suits me quite well. I’m only going to pretend to reform until the old man meets his maker. Then I’ll be on my way, with my rightful fortune intact.”

“How nice for you.” Distaste flickered in her dark eyes.

For some reason Andrew was stung by her reaction—he, who had never given a damn what anyone thought of him. He felt the need to justify himself to her, to explain somehow that he wasn’t nearly as contemptible as he seemed. But he kept silent. He would be damned if he would try to explain anything about himself to her.

Her gaze continued to hold his. “What role am I supposed to play in your plans?”

“I need you to pretend an interest in me,” he said flatly. “A romantic interest. I’m going to convince my father that I’ve given up drinking, gambling, and skirt chasing . . . and that I am courting a decent woman with the intention of marrying her.”

Caroline shook her head, clearly startled. “You want a sham engagement?”

“It doesn’t have to go that far,” he replied. “All I am asking is that you allow me to escort you to a few social functions . . . share a few dances, a carriage ride or two . . . enough to start a few tongues wagging until the rumors reach my father.”

She regarded him as if he belonged in Bedlam. “Why in heaven’s name do you think anyone would believe such a ruse? You and I are worlds apart. I cannot conceive of a more ill-suited pair.”

“It’s not all that unbelievable. A woman your age . . .” Andrew hesitated, considering the most tactful way to express himself.

“You are trying to say that since I am twenty-six years old, it naturally follows that I must be desperate to marry. So desperate, in fact, that I would accept your advances no matter how repulsive I find you. That is what people will think.”

“You have a sharp tongue, Miss Hargreaves,” he commented softly.

She frowned at him from behind her glinting spectacles. “That is correct, Lord Drake. I am sharp-tongued, I am a bluestocking, and I have resigned myself to being an old maid. Why would anyone of good sense believe that you have a romantic interest in me?”

Well, that was a good question. Just a few minutes ago Andrew himself would have laughed at the very idea. But as he sat close to her, his knees not far from hers, the stirring of attraction ignited in a sudden burst of heat. He could smell her fragrance—warm female skin and some fresh out-of-doors scent, as if she had just walked in from the garden. Cade had confided that his sister spent a great deal of time in the garden and the hothouse, cultivating roses and experimenting with plants. Caroline seemed like a rose herself—exquisite, sweetly fragrant, more than a little prickly. Andrew could scarcely believe that he had never noticed her before.

He flashed a glance at Cade, who was shrugging to indicate that arguing with Caroline was a hopeless endeavor. “Hargreaves, leave us alone for a few minutes,” he said curtly.

“Why?” Caroline asked suspiciously.

“I want to talk privately with you. Unless . . .” He gave her a taunting smile that was guaranteed to annoy. “Are you afraid to be alone with me, Miss Hargreaves?”

“Certainly not!” She threw her brother a commanding glance. “Leave, Cade, while I deal with your so-called friend.”

“All right.” Cade paused at the threshold of the doorway, his boyishly handsome face stamped with concern as he added, “Just give a shout if you need help.”

“I will not need help,” Caroline assured him firmly. “I am capable of handling Lord Drake by myself.”

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Cade replied ruefully. “I was speaking to Drake.”

Andrew struggled to suppress a grin as he watched his friend leave the room. Returning his attention to Caroline, he moved beside her on the settee, placing their bodies into closer proximity.

“Don’t sit there,” she said sharply.

“Why?” He gave her a seductive look, the kind that had melted many a reluctant woman’s resistance in the past. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No, I left a paper of pins there, and your backside is about to resemble a hedgehog’s.”

Andrew laughed suddenly, fishing for the packet until he located it beneath his left buttock. “Thanks for the warning,” he said dryly. “You could have let me find out for myself.”

“I was tempted,” Caroline admitted.

Andrew was amazed by how pretty she was, with amusement glimmering in her brown eyes, and her cheeks still flushed pink. Her earlier question—why anyone would believe he would be interested in her—abruptly seemed ludicrous. Why would he not be interested in her? Vague fantasies drifted through his mind . . . he would like to lift that dainty body in his arms right now, settle her on his lap, and kiss her senseless. He wanted to reach under the skirts of her plain brown cambric gown and slide his hands over her legs. Most of all he wanted to pull down the top of her bodice and uncover her pert little breasts. He had never been so intrigued by a pair of breasts, which was odd when one considered that he had always been interested in well-endowed women.

He watched as she turned her attentions back to the wooden frame. Clearly she was distracted, for she fumbled with the pins and managed to prick her fingers yet again as she tried to fasten the lace properly. Suddenly exasperated, Andrew took the pins from her. “Allow me,” he said. Expertly he stretched the lace with just the right amount of tension and secured it with a row of pins, each miniature loop fastened exactly on the edge of the frame.

Caroline did not bother to hide her amazement as she watched him. “How did you learn to do that?”

Andrew regarded the lace panel with a critical eye before setting it aside. “I grew up as the only child on a large estate, with few playmates. On rainy days I would help the housekeeper with her tasks.” He gave her a self-mocking grin. “If you are impressed by my lace stretching, you should see me polish silver.”

She did not return his smile, but stared at him with new curiosity. When she spoke, her tone had softened a few degrees. “No one would believe the charade you propose. I know what kind of women you pursue. I have talked with Cade, you see. And your reputation is well established. You would never take an interest in a woman like me.”

“I could play the part convincingly,” he said. “I’ve got a huge fortune at stake. For that I would court the devil himself. The question is, can you?”

“I suppose I could,” she returned evenly. “You are not a bad-looking man. I suppose some might even regard you as handsome in a debauched, slovenly sort of way.”

Andrew scowled at her. He was not vain, and rarely considered his own appearance other than to make certain he was clean and his clothes were decently tailored. But without conceit, he knew that he was tall and well proportioned, and that women often praised his long black hair and blue eyes. The problem was his way of life. He spent too much time indoors, too little time sleeping, and he drank too often and too long. More often than not, he woke up at midday with bloodshot, dark-circled eyes, his complexion pasty from a night of hard drinking. And he had never cared . . . until now. In comparison to the dainty creature before him, he felt like a huge, untidy mess.

“What incentive were you planning to offer me?” Caroline asked. It was clear that she would not consider his plan; she was merely interested to discover how he would have tried to entice her.

Unfortunately that was the weak aspect of his scheme. He had little to entice her with. No money, no social advantage, no possessions that would allure her. There was only one thing he had been able to come up with that might be sufficiently tempting.

“If you agree to help me,” he said slowly, “I will leave your brother alone. You know what kind of influence I am on him. He is in debt up to his ears, and he is doing his best to keep pace with the pack of miscreants and degenerates I like to call friends. Before long Cade is going to end up exactly like me—rotten, cynical, and beyond all hope of redemption.”

Caroline’s expressive face revealed that this was exactly what she feared.

“How far in debt is he?” she asked stiffly.

He named a sum that astonished and sickened her. Reading the horror in her eyes, Andrew experienced a surge of predatory satisfaction. Yes . . . he had guessed correctly. She loved her younger brother enough to do anything to save him. Even pretend to fall in love with a man she despised.

“That is only the beginning,” Andrew told her. “Before long Cade will be in a pit so deep that he’ll never be able to climb out.”

“And you would be willing to let that happen? You would simply stand by and let him ruin his life? And impoverish my mother and myself?”

Andrew responded with a casual shrug. “It is his life,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “I’m not his keeper.”

“My God,” she said unsteadily. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?”

He kept his expression blank, and studied the scuffed, unpolished surface of his very expensive boot. “No, I don’t give a damn who gets dragged down with me. But if you decide to help me, I’ll take care of Cade. I’ll make certain the others in our set don’t invite him to their clubs or their favorite bawdy houses. I will ensure that all the listmakers I know—and believe me, that is a considerable number—will not extend him credit. He won’t be allowed into any high-stakes games in London. Moreover, if I am reinstated in my father’s will, I will assume all of Cade’s financial obligations.”

“Does Cade know about your plan?” Caroline was pale and intent as she stared at him.

“No. But it would prove his salvation.”

“And if I refuse to accept your offer?”

A hard, somewhat cruel smile curved his lips. His father’s smile, Andrew thought, with bitter self-awareness. “Then your brother is on the path to hell . . . right alongside me. And you will be left to pick up the pieces. I would hate to see your family’s estate sold to pay off Cade’s debts. Not a pleasant prospect for your mother, being forced to live off the charity of relatives in her old age. Or you, for that matter.” He gave her an insultingly thorough glance, his gaze lingering on her bosom. “What skills do you have that would earn enough to support a family?”

“You fiend,” Caroline whispered, visibly trembling, though it was impossible to discern whether her emotion was fear or anger, or perhaps a mixture of both.

In the silence, Andrew was aware of a twisting sensation somewhere in his chest, and suddenly he wanted to take it all back . . . reassure and soothe her . . . promise her that he would never allow a bit of harm to come to her family. He had a terrible feeling of tenderness that he struggled to thrust away, but it remained stubbornly lodged within him.

“What choice do I have?” Caroline asked angrily, forestalling any repentant words from him.

“Then you agree to my plan? You’ll pretend to engage in a courtship with me?”

“Yes . . . I will.” She sent him a simmering glare. “How long must this last? Weeks? Months?”

“Until the earl reinstates me in his will. If you and I are sufficiently convincing, it shouldn’t take long.”

“I don’t know if I can bear it,” she said, regarding him with patent loathing. “Exactly how far will this charade have to go? Words? Embraces? Kisses?” The prospect of kissing him seemed as enthralling as if she had been required to kiss a goat. “I warn you, I will not allow my reputation to be compromised, not even for Cade!”

“I haven’t thought out the details yet.” He kept his face unreadable, although relief shot through him in a piercing note. “I won’t compromise you. All I want is the appearance of pleasant companionship.”

Caroline sprang from the settee as if she had suddenly been released from the law of gravity. Agitation was evident in every line of her body. “This is intolerable,” she muttered. “I cannot believe that through no fault of my own . . .” She whirled around to glare at Andrew. “When do we start? Let it be soon. I want this outrageous charade to be done with as quickly as possible.”

“Your enthusiasm is gratifying,” Andrew remarked, with a sudden flare of laughter in his eyes. “Let’s begin in a fortnight. My half brother and his wife are giving a weekend party at their country estate. I will prevail on them to invite your family. With any luck, my father will attend as well.”

“And then to all appearances, you and I will develop a sudden overwhelming attraction to each other,” she said, rolling her eyes heavenward.

“Why not? Many a romantic liaison has begun that way. In the past, I’ve had more than a few—”

“Please,” she interrupted fervently. “Please do not regale me with stories of your sordid affairs. I find you repulsive enough as it is.”

“All right,” he said agreeably. “From now on I’ll leave the subjects of conversation to you. Your brother tells me that you enjoy gardening. No doubt we’ll have enthralling discourses on the wonders of manure.” He was satisfied to see her porcelain complexion turn mottled with fury.

“If I can manage to convince a single person that I am attracted to you,” Caroline said through gritted teeth, “I vow to begin a career on the stage.”

“That could be arranged,” Andrew replied dryly. His half brother, Logan Scott, was the most celebrated actor of the day, as well as being the owner and manager of the Capital Theater. Although Andrew and Logan had been friends since childhood, they had only recently discovered that they were related. Logan was the by-blow of an affair the earl had conducted with a young actress long ago. Whereas Andrew had been raised in an atmosphere of luxury and privilege, Logan had grown up in a hovel, frequently starving and abused by the family that had taken him in. Andrew doubted that he would ever rid himself of the guilt of that, even though it hadn’t been his fault.

Noticing that Caroline’s spectacles were smudged, he approached her with a quiet murmur. “Hold still.”

She froze as he reached out and plucked the steel-framed spectacles from her nose. “Wh-what are you doing? I . . . stop; give those back. . . .”

“In a minute,” he said, using a fold of his soft linen shirt to polish the lenses until they gleamed brightly. He paused to examine them, and glanced at Caroline’s face. Bereft of the spectacles, her eyes looked large and fathomless, her gaze slightly unfocused. How vulnerable she seemed. Again he experienced an odd surge of protectiveness. “How well can you see without them?” he asked, carefully replacing them on her small face.

“Not well at all,” she admitted in a low voice, her composure seeming fractured. As soon as the spectacles were safely on her nose, she backed away from Andrew and sought to collect herself. “Now I suppose you are going to make some jest at my expense.”

“Not at all. I like your spectacles.”

“You do?” she asked with clear disbelief. “Why?”

“They make you look like a wise little owl.”

Clearly she did not consider that a compliment, although Andrew meant it as one. He couldn’t help imagining what she would look like wearing nothing but the spectacles, so prim and modest until he coaxed her into passionate abandonment, her small body writhing uncontrollably against his—

Abruptly aware that his erection was swelling again, Andrew shoved the images out of his mind. Damn, but he had never expected to be so fascinated by Hargreaves’s spinster sister! He would have to make certain that she never realized it, or she would have even more contempt for him. The only way to keep her from guessing at his attraction to her was to keep her thoroughly annoyed and hostile. No problem there, he thought sardonically.

“You may leave now,” Caroline said sharply. “I assume our business is concluded for the time being.”

“It is,” he agreed. “However, there is one last thing. Could you manage to dress with a bit more style during the weekend party? The guests—not to mention my father—would find it easier to accept my interest in you if you didn’t wear something quite so . . .”

Now even the lobes of her ears were purple. “Quite so what?” she said in a hiss.

“Matronly.”

Caroline was silent for a moment, obviously suppressing an urge to commit murder. “I will try,” she finally said in a strangled voice. “And you, perhaps, might engage the services of a decent valet. Or if you already have one, replace him with someone else.”

Now it was Andrew’s turn to be offended. He felt a scowl twitching at the muscles of his face. “Why is that?”

“Because your hair is too long, and your boots need polish, and the way you dress reminds me of an unmade bed!”

“Does that mean you’d like to lie on top of me?” he asked.

He slipped around the door of the parlor and closed it just before she threw a vase.

The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the house.

“Drake!” Cade strode toward him from the entrance hall, looking at him expectantly. “How did it go? Did you get her to agree?”

“She agreed,” Andrew said.

The words caused a flashing grin to cross Cade’s boyishly handsome face. “Well done! Now you’ll get back in your father’s good graces, and everything will go swimmingly for us, eh, old fellow? Gaming, drinking, carousing . . . oh, the times we’re going to have!”

“Hargreaves, I have something to tell you,” Andrew said carefully. “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”