Cooper stared at the very expensive trinket he had found nestled in Lady Emmaline’s bosom. The cockstand he’d had only a moment before wilted as the implications of what he had discovered took root.

“That is my necklace. Please return it to me, my lord.” Emily sat up, pulling at her bodice.

“Why is it you have a necklace stuffed down your corset?” He held the item in question aloft as he examined what appeared to be a rather valuable item.

Panic flashed across her face for a moment, but then calmness settled over her features. “I had thought to wear the blasted piece this evening, but as we were driving, Lady Vardy convinced me it was extravagant. Lacking a safe place to keep the bauble, I stuffed it down my dress.”

He stood and inspected it more closely. “Diamonds and rubies?”

He looked back at Lady Emmaline, who currently had a set of simple pearl-drop earrings dangling from her lobes. In mere moments, he put all the facts together. He’d seen her leave Lady Vardy’s side, and had followed her to ensure she reached the ladies’ retiring room. It was an obvious destination, so he’d been surprised when she’d sailed right past it and up the stairs to the living quarters.

Considering the rumors he’d mentioned, he’d had little desire to be caught wandering about upstairs. The ton already thought him barely respectable. If he added “accused thief” to his list of sins, he would be utterly objectionable. So, he’d placed himself at the bottom of the stairs, just behind them in the shadows, and waited. She had been gone nearly half an hour when worry set in. Then, just as he was about to charge up the stairs after her, she had appeared.

It had occurred to him she might be meeting someone for an illicit tryst, but there was no question she kissed like a novice. He found it hard to imagine she had taken a lover. The notion of the ball-attending thief had flitted through his thoughts, but mostly as a threat to her safety. It had never really occurred to him that she might be the thief.

“I tell you it is mine, my lord. Do you question my truthfulness?” She rose from the couch, anger infusing her words with just enough outrage to make him want to believe her.

But there was no possibility she was telling the truth. While no fashion expert himself—his valet would likely suggest he was a fashion imbecile—he knew well enough that women did not mix diamonds and rubies with pearls. Not to mention, she had never, in the time he’d been getting to know her, worn anything so ostentatious.

He turned to face her. “I believe I am, Lady Emmaline.”

Furious, she stormed up to him and attempted to snatch the necklace from his grasp.

Holding it high above her head, he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her against him. “Ah, ah, ah, my Lady Hellion. First you will admit the truth to me.”

First? He couldn’t help but wonder at himself. The woman he had intended to make his countess was, in fact, a thief. He should be hauling her out of the library and into the ballroom to have the authorities summoned. But he quickly realized he had no intention of doing any such thing.

“Very well, my lord. If I admit such a thing, will you return the necklace to me?” Her lips pressed together, emphasizing her stubborn aspect.

“That rather depends on what you have to say.” He couldn’t hide his smirk. Intuition told him this was going to be an interesting turn of events in his courtship of Lady Emmaline.

She growled at him a little. He found it adorable.

“Fine, my lord. I stole the necklace.”

She said what he had expected, though with ill grace. Clearly, she was not as entertained by events as he.

“Why, Lady Emmaline? I have not heard of any financial woes related to your family. What could be driving you to such an action?”

His mind ticked through what he knew of her family. Her parents were both dead, killed in a tragic house fire. Her brother didn’t particularly stand out in any fashion among the ton, but then that had seemed typical of her family until now.

In short order, the fear and anger slipped from her face like a mask tossed aside. In its place appeared the neutral expression he had originally associated with her. One that hinted that she found the whole event tiresome, but was too polite to ever say so.

“Boredom, Lord Brougham. Night after night, year after year of attending balls, only to dance once or twice, and then be forgotten once more. Eventually, a woman will find a way of entertaining herself.”

Cooper blinked. Boredom? That seemed preposterous. “If ennui is your issue, perhaps I can offer you something to busy yourself with?”

“Doubtful, my lord.” She dismissed his suggestion out of hand, without having even heard it.

More than a little affronted, he straightened up. “Perhaps, Lady Emmaline, you should consider my suggestion. Under the circumstances.”

With her nose wrinkled, she again conceded to hear him out. “Very well, my lord. Suggest away.”

“Marry me.” He blurted the words out in the most unromantic fashion possible. Of course, the entire scenario was terribly unsentimental.

The blasted woman laughed. She actually guffawed as she held her stomach and bent over as far as her corset would allow.

Feeling peeved about the whole thing, Cooper stood there and waited for her mirth to subside. Finally, as she settled down, he spoke. “I fail to see the humor in this.”

“You have just suggested that I, a known thief—at least by you—marry you.” She chuckled again. “You do, of course, realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

He refrained from grinding his teeth—barely. “I don’t see why it is so ridiculous. I need a wife, and you clearly need a husband to take you in hand and curtail such fiendish activities.”

Lady Emmaline finally ceased laughing. Her features shifted from mirth to a studied seriousness, her gaze full of calculation as she rose. “You may stop right there, Lord Brougham.” She held up one trembling hand. “I shall save you any further embarrassment by clearly stating my position on marriage.”

She tucked her hands behind her back, placing one in the other, then turned to pace as she spoke. “You may not have realized it because men of our social standing often overlook me, but I am a spinster. Firmly on the shelf. And I must say that I have come to find a certain peace in my lot. I have no interest in taking on a husband, or the various responsibilities that come with marriage. I answer to no one but myself, and if I should desire to spend all my pin money on frivolous things, there is no one who can gainsay me on this. I have no need of a man telling me what to do or thinking he knows best. Nothing you can say shall sway my thinking.”

She ceased moving and turned to face him, defiance radiating from her person in almost palpable waves.

“Not even a promise of financial security?”

Cooper could not understand how a woman who was apparently stealing could turn down such an offer. It made no sense, unless she was quite serious about being bored and not stealing for financial gain.

Her face hardened, the muscles around her jaw tensing. “I am not for sale, my lord.”

“Lady Emmaline, I made no such suggestion. I merely pointed out the fiscal advantages of marriage to me. There are others, you know.” He was miffed that she had taken his carrot and turned it rotten. “I can also offer you the social acceptance of being an earl’s wife, a home that has been in my family since the Tudors reigned, and an opportunity to be a mother.”

To his great surprise, none of what he metaphorically laid before her caused a softening of her features. Her chin remained tilted—mutinous, he’d daresay—and her lips firmly pressed together. Beneath the stubborn glint in her gaze, he could still see the suspicion lurking.

“None of what you propose is of interest to me, my lord. I am comfortably on the shelf.”

He frowned. “What of marital relations? You have no interest in experiencing the intimacy between a man and a woman?”

The firm resolve on her face wobbled.

Seeing a chink in her armor, he pressed. “As my wife, I can show you the delights of the bedroom. I am one of the Lustful Lords.”

Determination renewed, he saw the moment she weighed the suggestion and discarded his lure. “Whatever prowess you possess in the bedroom is doubtful to be worth a life of indentured servitude as Lady Brougham.”

Cooper admitted to himself that the lady’s words stung. As a lifelong bachelor, he had never intended to marry. Certainly he knew it was his duty, but in some strange corner of his mind, he had believed he might stave off that fate until the ripe old age of fifty, or possibly even sixty. Just the other day there had been an article in the paper telling of a man just turned seventy-five, who’d fathered twins! But here he was still in his prime, not even forty yet, and he had somehow succumbed to the pressure to secure the future of the earldom.

Then a thought occurred to him. “I see. Indentured servitude?”

“Just so.” She nodded decisively.

“Please excuse my forwardness, but might I suggest that the notion of the delights of the bedroom seemed to contain some potential appeal to you?”

She eyed him warily. “I might concede to a certain curiosity about all the hullabaloo.”

He mentally rubbed his hands together. His pulse picked up slightly as he cornered his quarry. “Interesting. You are certainly an unconventional woman.” He stepped closer to her. “So may I offer you an unconventional proposal? An arrangement that will allow you to indulge your curiosity while not surrendering yourself to indentured servitude?”

Lady Emmaline continued to watch him, but nodded. “I’m listening.”

Having had a small taste of holding her and kissing her, he needed more. Needed a way to have her in his arms so that he could show her how they might just work. “Will you be my mistress?”

Yet another chuckle from her was not the response he expected.

“I cannot take a lover.”

“Why not? You have no intention of marrying, so you are not giving away what is rightfully your future husband’s. Many a widow has taken a lover after discovering the pleasures of the marriage bed. Are you so willing to give up the possibility of experiencing that satisfaction?”

Consideration whirled to life in her perceptive gaze as she returned to the settee. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. What would be the terms of such an arrangement if I were to say yes? And where would this affair take place?”

Cooper grappled for a moment for what might be basic terms he would include. “We would meet at The Market. I am already a member and known visitor. You could continue to wear a mask and cloak to meet me, or I am sure Madame Celeste would arrange for a more discreet arrival around the back. As for the terms, we would need to write them all down, but Celeste has a standard contract we could use, and then tailor it to any specific requirements.”

“A contract?”

“The Market requires such for all extended assignations.” He shrugged one shoulder.

Lady Emmaline paused for a few moments. “And the terms of this contract?”

“Well, for example, I would require that you be available upon my request.”

She hesitated a moment before responding. “I would need at least twenty-four hours’ notice so I could plan to be out for the evening. Lady Vardy is no easy chaperone to escape. Also, what I do when I am not with you is my business.”

“Twenty-four hours is acceptable.” He drew a deep breath and reminded himself that if he did not relent in some fashion, she would say no. “And I agree not to badger you about your activities when not with me. However, I am the only lover you will have for the length of our arrangement.”

“I see.” Her hand fluttered to her throat in a thoughtless gesture that suggested she found the notion intriguing. “How…” She cleared her throat. “How long would this arrangement last?”

“We could start with three months and then reassess. If we like, we can renew it for longer, or make any necessary changes.”

“That sounds fair. Will I need to become a member of The Market to visit frequently?” She bit her lip as though the notion concerned her.

“I shall address the issue with Madame Celeste.” He would either cover her membership fees or arrange a guest pass. Either way, he would see to it. One last demand occurred to him, a necessity if his plan was going to work. “I also want the right to call on you—”

“Absolutely not. I shall not allow you to court me.” Her spine stiffened, and her chin tilted just so. “As I have clearly stated, I have no intention of marrying.”

“Not as a lover, but as a friend. One day every fortnight should be enough to establish a friendship without causing tongues to wag.”

She hesitated, letting the silence linger as the strains of music from the ballroom filtered through the wood doors.

For a moment, he thought she might back out, but then she offered him a slow nod of agreement. “I don’t like your last demand, but I shall agree with the stipulation that your visits will not include gifts or anything that resembles courting.”

“Agreed. However, the first visit does not count since the contract will not have been signed.” Pleased with his last addition, he wrapped an arm around her. “Now, to seal our preliminary bargain with a kiss.”

And then he crashed his lips down on hers before she could object. Tongues tangled, he tried to drink her in, needed to take a piece of her with him just in case she changed her mind before he could get the contract settled.