Ravenna came upon Simon early again the next day. She’d taken a pot of hot chocolate and buttered toast in bed, then slipped through Heath and Julia’s quiet house, not wanting to cause a disturbance after the conflict she had created. She’d thought of Simon all through the night. Perhaps for that reason she wasn’t startled when she found him alone in Heath’s study.

She loved this retreat, redolent with the aroma of must and cigars, crammed with precious old books on obscure topics and charts of exotic lands she’d never dreamed existed. A large military desk dominated the room. Its multiple hidden drawers and pigeonholes held knowledge only Heath understood, although Julia had said he’d committed his most crucial secrets to memory.

Simon stood facing the wall, inscrutable in his own fashion, his large hands clasped behind his back. He was examining a map of Egypt when she approached him. A fitted black coat dropped from his broad shoulders to his knees. His concentration allowed her to admire his athletic figure in detail. And to steel her nerves.

Then he turned, acknowledging her presence with a knowing smile. She realized with a blush he was aware she’d been conducting a clandestine appraisal of his person. Her curiosity seemed to amuse him.

“You look nothing like a man in fear of his life, Simon. One would swear you hadn’t a care in the world.”

“How lovely to see you.” He moved with ease around the bulky desk toward her. “I hope you finally slept well.”

“Not a wink. I wondered whether Aunt Glynnis had given you second thoughts. Have you come to retract your offer?”

“I’m made of sterner stuff.”

“I tend to agree.”

His eyes slid over her. “You aren’t insubstantial yourself. But even if I changed my mind the rest of your family wouldn’t allow me past the city gates. We can’t call off the engagement without provoking greater scandal.”

“How did you win my aunt over?”

He shrugged. “I was myself. That is all.”

“That is more than enough,” she said grudgingly.

He bent his head to hers. She held her breath, tantalized by the scent of minty shaving soap on his thin cheeks. “Your aunt would like us to go through the rigors of courtship.”

“There really isn’t time,” she murmured, his closeness a disturbance. He was so gorgeous and good-hearted that she felt guilty he wasn’t marrying a woman he had chosen. “I don’t need a courtship.”

“Why don’t we sit down on the sofa?” he politely suggested. “You look discomposed all of a sudden. I hope my appearance here isn’t upsetting.”

“I shall have to be strong. Stop treating me as if my veins run with maiden’s water and not blood.”

His hand slid under her elbow. “Sit down, for heaven’s sake. I won’t bite.”

“You kiss.”

“You are very kissable.”

She sank down on the sofa in an unruffled pose, but she doubted Simon was deceived. He had lived a bachelor’s life in London while she had stitched tapestries in the turret for her brothers to use as dartboards. Mercifully the Simon she remembered was not a man to abuse his power.

He brushed back his coattails and sat down beside her. Ravenna realized she was staring at his face and glanced down at the cushion propped in the middle of the sofa. She had to accustom herself to his company. But what she wanted to do was caress his face. His damaged beauty fascinated her.

“On the subject of courtship,” he said, bringing her back to earth. “We could make a show of it. Or you could plead a sudden indisposition to keep you out of view.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, glancing up.

He smiled at her indulgently, and she thought that she might enjoy the illusion of pursuit. How could she complain when such an alluring man offered to court her?

They contemplated each other over the strategic cushion.

“An indisposition,” he said, “could imply anything from mumps to a mad fit, which would allow you seclusion until you ‘recover’ or Society moves to another scandal. No matter how poorly we have behaved, the world will soon find new victims to devour.”

“Why can’t you be the one to go mad or have the mumps?”

His mouth curled. “Because then I would have to stay at home without an excuse to watch over you until the wedding.”

He moved the cushion aside. He might have been playing chess. He said carefully, “Elopement is another possibility. With your relatives naturally in on the ruse.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s not the best idea,” he agreed. “For the time being you are safer with your family nearby.”

“I’ve no inclination to remain housebound indefinitely, threat or not,” she said. “I’ll go genuinely mad. Your assailant may never be found. Would you lock me away forever?”

“It is a tempting thought, having you all to myself. However, I’d rather have a compliant bride than a captive one.” He glanced back at the door, his voice falling conspiratorially. “There are countless ways for a dedicated husband to entertain his wife in the privacy of their own home. Books, kisses, conversation, lessons in love. Long walks in the hall.”

“And these lessons are to instruct me on how to entertain you?” she said with an arch smile.

“How perceptive you are.”

“I shall probably regret asking this, but what do you desire in a duchess?”

“I’ve never put together a duchess file,” he said, his eyes kindling.

“Do you have a standard of beauty?”

“I wouldn’t say that a woman’s appearance is the only quality that attracts me. It certainly isn’t enough to keep my interest.”

“Then?”

“Passion, I think.” His brow furrowed. “By which I am not referring to carnality. Character, as I’ve said, is what ultimately matters -- a lady who lives life to the fullest and cares as much for others as herself. Not a saint, mind you. I appreciate a woman who can laugh deeply. And love.”

“I perceive blank pages in this file.”

“I suppose my ideal duchess is whatever you are. Do I measure up to your standards?”

“That remains to be seen,” she teased him. “I can’t fault your appearance. You’re too handsome for your own good. As to your character, well, I once thought you were aloof, but perhaps you’re sad. You scowl more than you smile. You always did. You were lonely when you were young, weren’t you?”

“How could I have been? I had a passel of servants and advisors to shadow me. And two siblings.”

“But the three of you were kept apart,” she said slowly.

“We have all our roles to play,” he said. “I was raised to be the heir to a dukedom. You were raised for marriage.”

“It appears I wasn’t raised properly. I made a tragedy of my betrothal. You at least act as befitting your position.”

He crossed his arms behind his head, openly amused by her analysis. “I didn’t realize you’d given me that much consideration. Or that my brooding countenance displeased you. Do you want me to grin like a marionette all day long?”

“You’re the one who insisted I smile at Grayson’s party.”

“That was for your family. You can do as you like when we’re alone.”

She fidgeted, wondering when the actual courtship would begin. “Did you come here to see me or Heath?”

“Both of you, although I’d rather spend time sitting here for a while.”

“We won’t get away with much romantic folly in this house,” she whispered. “Heath was a spy, and I vow that if speck of dust changes position, he’ll take notice.”

“He’s still involved in espionage,” he whispered back, lowering his arms. “A man with his intellect isn’t content to read newspapers at his club and discuss politics with other gentlemen.”

“I expect he’s listening to our every word.”

“He might be if he were home. He was called away on business. I was told to make myself comfortable until he returns.”

“Julia invited you inside?”

“Indirectly, yes. She sent down a message through the footman that she was in the middle of an important appointment and wouldn’t see me until she was finished.”

“You have the devil’s timing.”

“Perhaps. Anyway, I don’t want to stir up dust. I want to reacquaint myself with you and that isn’t a royal secret. Thinking about kissing you again kept me up all the damned night.”

“You are a scandalous man to admit that this early in the morning. But -- if you really want to kiss me there’s nothing between us except a cushion and a false courtship.” She nudged the cushion to the carpet. “And one obstacle is gone.”

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you? I could take that as a gauntlet thrown.”

She glanced down, feeling worldly and half as wicked as he was. “It was. Do you accept?

“For life.”

He leaned into her until their lips almost touched. She waited and at length lifted her eyes. The naked fire in his gaze sent a flare of anticipation through her. He looked as if he had more on his mind than kissing her.

“Why are you frowning?” she whispered.

His fingertip shaped her cheekbone, her chin, and slowly dropped into the deep vale of her décolletage. Her lips parted on a silent exclamation. Wicked she’d wanted and he was as good as his word.

“I frown when I concentrate,” he said quietly.

She half-closed her eyes in expectation as his mouth nibbled her earlobe and then came down on hers. He drew her lower lip between his teeth. Her breathing suspended, she felt his hand brush the underside of her breast, a negligent caress that quickened her blood. His fingers outlined her taut nipple through her silk dress. He flicked his tongue across hers. An insistent throb spread through her stomach.

“Simon?”

“Mmm.” He molded his body to hers at an angle that warned her not to underestimate him. His heavy arousal pressed through the pleats of her gown. She sat tight, shaking inwardly, and prayed she would not melt in the heat of his body. Ruefully she realized that while she might aspire to be a wicked lady, she was in truth as worldly as the globe on Heath’s desk and as easily spun about.

His potent kiss pierced her to the core, promising dark pleasures that threatened and tempted at the same time.

“Ravenna?” he said, the hesitation in his voice penetrating her reverie.

She sighed in wistful chagrin. She’d lost awareness of everything else except him. He reached down for the cushion at the same moment as did she. She drew upright, regarding him with all the poise she could summon. “Yes?”

He propped the cushion back in place. “Don’t ask me to kiss you again today. There’s someone in the hall. Right outside the door, in fact. I don’t want to refuse you, but neither do I want to raise the wrath of the Boscastles.”

She smoothed out the off-shoulder neckline of her dress and whispered, “We are engaged, Simon. Some misbehavior is to be expected.”