William contained the urge to whistle as he maneuvered the light, open carriage down Lady Lanora’s street. The day was fine, sky blue, sun bright. It was a day made for charming a lady in the park.

Lady Lanora was too intelligent to simply be charmed, however. He hadn’t missed the suspicion in her, in spite of the effect he knew he had. And that book. Anyone who could read that jumble of archaic Greek had quite the head on their shoulders.

He might, as a last resort, need to offer her some truths. Not all, by any means. Knowledge gave a person power, and he wasn’t ready to let anyone have that much power over him. Even Cecilia didn’t know he’d never been to Egypt. Only the marquess knew all, and often wielded the knowledge. He held William under the constant threat of defamation, and now he’d added losing the Greydrake fortune to his arsenal. William grimaced, wishing reputation and coin held less sway in his life.

Fortunately, arrival at the Solworth London home revived his spirits. Lady Lanora appeared, slipping out a narrowly open door. She pushed several terriers back inside with a slipper-clad foot, offering an enticing glimpse of a slender ankle. Her gown was pale yellow, similar to all young ladies’ gowns, save for the splendidness of her figure. Her shiny black locks were neatly arranged, her green eyes once again as cold as the gems they resembled.

“My lady,” he greeted as a footman helped her into the carriage.

“Lord William.”

Her tone was excessively cool. She didn’t look at him. Surely, she wasn’t that angry over a single waltz with her aunt and a maid in the room?

William maneuvered the carriage back into the light street traffic. By the time they reached the park, he’d become uncomfortable with her determined silence. Her smile was so tight as to appear pained. Anyone looking on them, and there were many about, would think he held a pistol to her side to make her remain in the carriage with him.

Out of respect for the woman he thought her to be, he decided to take a direct approach. “You do not seem happy to ride with me.”

Her eyes darted toward him and away. “I cannot fathom your intention in taking this drive.”

“You cannot? Is it not obvious I’m courting you?”

Her eyes widened slightly. Her jaw clenched. She cast a look about, at the numerous other occupants of the park. “You jest.”

“I do not.”

A line marred her brow. She turned to him with a frown. “Why would you court me? Have you a wager going?”

He kept an affable expression, though taken aback by her accusation. He’d known convincing her would be difficult. “There is no wager. I wish us to wed.”

She blinked several times. “You hardly know me. Did my aunt put you up to this?”

“Your aunt?” He shook his head. He’d hoped for a slightly more enthusiastic response. “Lady Edith has nothing to do with my courting you. As for knowing you, I have watched you from afar. I’m quite smitten, I assure you.”

“Smitten?” She gave him a cold smile. “I think perhaps your definition of the word differs from mine. Were I smitten with someone, I wouldn’t spend the evening with my mistress.”

This time, William couldn’t hide his surprise. He recovered quickly, knowing many eyes were on them. “You had me followed.”

She shrugged. “Of course. I wished to gauge your sincerity.”

“And you found it lacking.”

“Obviously.”

She might believe she’d put him in his place, but William was pleased. A woman with no interest would never have him followed. It said much that she’d gone to the trouble. He was glad to learn his effect on her was more than physical.

“I can explain.”

“I’m certain you can offer all manner of excuses, but I’ve no desire to hear them.”

He grinned. She could be so cold, her tone infinitely condescending. It was an art. Lady Lanora was a work of art, from her flawless features to her well-modulated voice. He wondered if she could manage other facades as readily as she did ton diamond-an- devout widow.

“You find my lack of interest entertaining, my lord?”

No. He found the banked anger in her green eyes irresistible. What would that heat be like, unleashed? He knew better than to ask. “You will not hear me out? I thought you a lady of intelligence.”

“That is an artless tactic, my lord.”

“I am an artless sort of fellow.”

“I doubt that.”

“Lady Lanora.” He lowered his voice to a husky murmur, leaning toward her. It wasn’t fair, but he made no claim to be. “Please. Permit me one opportunity to explain myself. Is that so much to ask?”

She swallowed. Her pulse raced in her slender neck. “Very well.”

“Excellent.” He flipped the reins, angling them toward a flower garden constructed of blooms and walls of carefully trimmed evergreen. He knew well the garden’s discreet paths. When they reached it, he brought the carriage to a halt and jumped down. One of the street boys lingering there ran up. William gave him a coin to watch the carriage before walking round to Lady Lanora’s side. She was looking straight ahead, her posture rigid.

“It will be easier to speak if we’re of a level.” He held up a hand to her.

She cast him a quick glance, as if looking at him would ruin her resolve. “Why have we stopped?”

“What I wish to tell you is of a very sensitive nature. I seek privacy.”

She gave a little shake of her head. “Grace said you would attempt to get me alone,” she murmured, as if speaking to herself.

“Who is Grace?” He cast about in his mind. He couldn’t recall Lady Lanora having any friends, let alone one named Grace. Then, he didn’t know the name of every Miss in London.

“My dearest friend. You would not know her. She came with me from the country.”

“And did this Grace give you advice for when I made my fateful attempt?”

“She would wish me to allow it.”

He grinned. “I like her already.”

The look Lady Lanora gave him was oddly reproachful. “So you say now.”

Feeling he was on uneven footing, knowing so little about her friend, William returned to his goal. “Will you walk with me in the flower garden, Lady Lanora? I promise not to attempt a waltz.”

She sat for a long moment before nodding. Turning, she offered her hand. He clasped her fingers, helped her down and tucked her hand into his arm. To his surprise, she made no effort to break free, permitting him to remain at her side as they headed down the first gravel path. The crunching of his boots on stone filled the silence between them.

“You’re lucky you may wear boots. Slippers are a dreadful bit of silliness,” she said, surprising him again by breaking the silence.

“Are they?” He’d never given them much thought, aside from when he was slipping one from a delicate foot.

“They’re dreadfully impractical. A set for every gown. Material that does not withstand water or dirt. Like as not, one evening will ruin them.” Her smile was wistful. “In the country, I wear boots.”

“You would be like your aunt, I see.”

“How I wish I could be.”

Why did she sound so sorrowful? What young woman lamented not being a dowdy old widow with a pack of dogs? Fine as Lady Edith’s collection was, a pack of terriers hardly replaced a husband and children.

He led her around several turns, wending his way toward one of the five focal points of the somewhat maze-like rooms created by walls of evergreen. Fewer flowers were in evidence than at other times of the year, for spring was behind them or not yet come, depending on how he wished to view the world. The particular space he brought her to, however, boasted a statue of Achilles. He thought it might appeal to her, given her choice in reading.

“I didn’t realize this was here.” Her tone was pleased. She left his side to examine the statue.

“Not many do. This is a less frequented area of the park. Most people come to be seen, after all.”

Her back stiffened. She turned slowly, cool gaze assessing. “And we are here for you to explain your behavior.”

“Would you care to sit?” He gestured toward one of three benches placed around the statue.

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. She moved to Achilles’ right, for the statue faced the opening, the only side with no place to sit and view it. William sat once she had, angling himself toward her. Sunlight shown bright around them. Somewhere, in the distance, children laughed. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He spent so much time lying, he wasn’t sure where to begin with the truth.

The one thing he was sure of was that he must not reveal he’d lived in London’s poorest borough for the many years he was absent from the marquess’s household. That would turn any well-bred lady from him, even a sympathetic one like Lady Lanora. Nor could he reveal who Cecilia truly was. Her safety was not a gambit. William shied from contemplation of what the marquess would do should he ever locate her.

“You were going to tell me why a smitten man visits his mistress,” Lady Lanora said, her tone even.

She watched him with curious, slightly confused eyes. Did his expression reveal so much, then? Enough that she felt a softer touch was required. William grimaced. He may as well begin with something terrible, then. “My mother is dead, as you must know.”

She nodded. “Yes, she and your older brother, both. I’ve heard the stories. After the…incident, she was brought to a place where she could be cared for, and you were sent to live with Mr. Darington, in Egypt, because your father was too heartbroken to look upon you.”

The story the marquess told the world. William had used it to soften many a heart. How he wished he needn’t begin his life with Lady Lanora on such lies. “That is… Well, yes, it’s what they say, is it not?” He tried not to let subterfuge bog down his tongue. The truth was so much darker and more complicated. “Putting that aside, what is important here is that the marquess feels my mother was flawed. Weak.”

That single line appeared on her brow again. She hadn’t expected his words. “Weak?”

William nodded. “Unfit. Not worthy. Add most anything else disparaging you like and you’ll have the gist.”

“But I thought it was his sorrow that drove him to send you away.” Her tone bled confusion.

As sorrow drove her father to leave when her mother died, he realized. Lady Lanora, who came from a home with a father who loved his wife and daughter, saw William’s world in the same light. He passed a hand across his eyes, threading his way between truth and lie.

“The marquess is not a loving man.”

Sympathy mounted in her expression.

William shook his head. He didn’t wish to win her through pity. “Which is neither here nor there. What matters is, much of my life has been spent attempting to convince the marquess of my suitability. He requires an heir who is strong, lacks sentiment, knows his place in the realm, and a host of other archaic traits.”

“You are telling me you’ve pretended to be a man different from who you are in order to please your father?” She sounded doubtful.

“It’s simpler to obey the marquess than war with him, and yes, that is what I’m suggesting.”

“And your mistress?”

“I have no mistress. I do keep a house, and a woman lives there, but she is not now, nor ever has she been, my lover. She is a ruse.”

“And the gambling?”

He shook his head, his smile returning. “Many men gamble. I’m not saying I’m a saint, only that I didn’t come courting you and then, hours later, avail myself of the charms of another.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “It all sounds a bit farfetched.”

“You have not met the marquess.” God willing, she never would. William studied her, weighing his options. They were alone, utterly so. She was eighteen, on her first season. He’d read the effect his nearness had on her the first night they spoke, and while they danced. He was certain he could charm her, befuddle her, leave her mussed and dreamy eyed. That wasn’t the way he wished to go about it, though, nor did he think it advisable.

Lady Lanora didn’t strike him as the type to wed where her heart wasn’t properly engaged, no matter what rash acts he drew her into. Worse, the way his blood surged at her nearness, the way the elusive sweet scent she wore reminded him of warm summer days, none of it boded well for his ability to stop once he began. That he could bring her around to agreement, at least for now, he did not doubt, but he would not deflower his future marchioness on a gravel walk under a statue of Achilles. Or lay her out on a stone bench and watch the sunlight caress her skin. Or—

“Lord William?”

He blinked, clearing visions of her from his mind.

“If you’ve no more compelling evidence to offer, I’m afraid I must insist you return me home.”

William ran a slightly shaky hand through his hair. What was wrong with him, lusting after her like a schoolboy when he should be conversing intelligently? He must think of something more to say. He couldn’t tell her anything else about Charles, or his mother. There must be something he could offer.

He mustered a crooked smile. “What more can I say? I’m not the man I show to society. I would be a good husband to you, not a cad who keeps mistresses and other bits on the side. Take the evidence before you. Have I attempted to seduce you? Have I been anything but a gentleman today?”

She studied him, her eyes guarded. “You are asking me to accept that your pursuit of me is in earnest, and you will be a model husband if we’re to wed?”

“I am.”

She pressed her lips together again, a habit he was beginning to believe meant she was struggling with an idea. “I will consider your words, but I must ask you to do something for me.”

“If it’s within my power.” He spoke carefully, trying not to let the happiness that shot through him show. Showing more enthusiasm than a female evinced was apt to scare her off. Or so other men reported. William had never been in such a situation before meeting Lady Lanora. “What must I do?”

“I’m afraid you must kiss me.”