Brilliana tried to decipher the undercurrents between the two men. She felt trapped, just when her life was beginning to even out. How dared Lord Fulkham upset everything again?

She needed her sister-in-law’s advice, but Delia wouldn’t be back from her honeymoon in Italy for a few weeks.

Brilliana didn’t want Papa to hang, no matter how much she resented how he’d blackmailed her into marrying Reynold. But neither did she want to be forced to spend days, maybe weeks, in Niall’s company. Especially when he acted as if she were the one who’d abandoned him.

She hadn’t fought a duel over some light-skirt. She hadn’t run off to the Continent and lied about bringing out the person she allegedly loved to join him. And she hadn’t waltzed back into England as if she’d done nothing wrong.

How unfathomable that he expected her to do this with him! Lord Fulkham, she could understand—he was with the government and thought that one’s country should take precedence over everything. She might agree with him, too, if it didn’t involve Niall.

Curse the man for agreeing to this scheme. So what if the undersecretary had finagled him a pardon? It wasn’t as if Lord Fulkham could withdraw it now. And surely there were other ways Niall could repay the political favor. Fulkham wasn’t blackmailing him, just her. Niall didn’t have to do this, especially since Fulkham seemed to be his friend.

A nasty suspicion took hold of her. Could this be some elaborate scheme between the two men to . . . to . . .

To what? Punish her for not going away with Niall years ago? Get her into Niall’s bed now that she was a widow?

That last seemed unlikely, but given what she’d learned after he’d left England, she wouldn’t put it past him. And if Niall were up to something unsavory . . .

“Lord Fulkham, couldn’t I just handle this on my own?” she asked. “There’s no need to inconvenience Lord Margrave. I could tell Papa that I want Silas to know his grandfather, and that would be enough to convince him that I am genuinely interested in reestablishing our . . . relationship.”

“And then what?” the undersecretary said. “Your father isn’t going to tell you about his illegal activities. Or involve you with them. But he might do that with Margrave, your soon-to-be husband. I need Margrave to become part of Sir Oswald’s circle of card-playing friends—something you cannot do as a woman.”

“But won’t he be suspicious of Lord Margrave if he hears that you helped his lordship gain his pardon?”

“Our connection isn’t known to anyone except Margrave’s family and now you,” Fulkham said. “Besides, Margrave will say that his years abroad have left him short of funds, and that’s why he’s interested in marrying a woman with an estate and a dowry, why he’s eager to try his hand at the tables, et cetera. I’ve got various people ready to enhance Margrave’s reckless character with tales about his desperate need for funds and his willingness to do anything to get them. They’ll start the rumor mill running this evening at the clubs, and by morning, everyone will know the supposed truth about Lord Margrave.”

“Thanks,” Niall said dryly. “Just what I need to rejoin respectable society and find a wife—a reputation as a ‘reckless character.’ ”

Brilliana ignored the shaft of pain that the words find a wife sent through her heart. Her foolish, foolish heart. “Don’t worry. All your sins will be swept under the rug as usual, since you’re a man of ‘consequence’ and all.”

That seemed to spark his temper. “ ‘As usual’? What in blazes is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the man who got pardoned for murder because you have friends in high places,” she said.

“Now see here—” Niall began.

“Meanwhile,” she went on bitterly, “once this is done, I’ll be the woman who betrayed her father to the authorities. So I don’t know what you have to complain about. When a man has a reckless reputation, it only makes him more attractive to women.” Only look at how she’d behaved when Niall had started paying her attention. “But when a woman has one—”

“If you prefer,” Fulkham said, “we’ll make it seem as if you were unaware of what Margrave was up to.”

“And you did say you have no interest in marrying.” Niall’s hard gaze bored into her. “So why do you care what people think of you?”

“I don’t. I care what they think of my son.” Niall snorted. “The scandal over this will be long dead by the time he’s old enough for it to matter.”

It was so easy for him to say that. He was a man. “Really?” she said sweetly. “Having his grandfather branded a criminal for the rest of his life will affect him. Don’t pretend that it won’t.”

“But that’s true whether you help us or not,” Fulkham put in. “Having his grandfather hanged will be worse. Is that what you’d prefer?”

“No, curse it! Of course not.”

She really was trapped, especially now that the two men were joining forces against her. No way out—again. Only this time it wasn’t debtors’ prison she was trying to keep Papa out of. It was death. A vastly different matter entirely.

At least this time she didn’t also have Mama to consider.

Still . . . “I don’t understand why Lord Margrave has to be the man to do this,” she said bluntly. “He and I don’t get along particularly well, and Papa might notice that, despite all our attempts to pretend otherwise. Surely you have other lackeys, as Lord Margrave puts it, who would not provoke such strong feelings in me. Who could make the endeavor more convincing.”

Fulkham laughed. “More convincing? The air fairly thrums when you two are in the same room. Granted, it may thrum with animosity, but no one could doubt that there is something between you.”

A look of determination replaced his amusement. “Besides, Margrave’s situation—as a man whose reputation is easy to manipulate at present—makes him most useful for my purposes. Not to mention that as members of St. George’s Club, we’ll be able to meet and discuss what he’s found out without anyone thinking it odd. They’ll assume we’re just involved socially. Everything about his situation makes it ideal for my plans.”

“But not for mine,” she protested. “I’d planned to return to Camden Hall soon so that I could begin putting the estate to rights. Now I’ll have to linger here for Lord knows how long, while you chase some elusive counterfeiter who may or may not be connected to my father.”

“She has a point,” Niall said. “I have an estate to manage myself, one that’s been left to the care of others for far too long.”

“Then take her with you from time to time,” Fulkham said irritably. “It would do her good to watch you work.” He met Brilliana’s gaze. “You did say you wanted to learn more about estate management. I can’t think of a better teacher than Margrave.”

She glanced from him to Niall, whose expression was entirely unreadable. “Might I have a moment to confer with his lordship before I give you my decision?”

Fulkham looked over at Niall, who gave a tight nod. “Very well. But don’t take too long. People will start wondering what has happened to us, and I can’t have that.”

As soon as Fulkham left, a painful silence descended between them. After a moment, she said, “There’s really no way out of this for me, is there?”

“None that I can see,” he said in that low rumble that did shivery things to her insides even after all these years.

Drat him. “I had no idea that Lord Fulkham could be such a beast,” she grumbled.

“He’s just doing his job.”

“No, he’s blackmailing me into doing his job.”

“I could say the same thing. You don’t hear me complaining.”

“Because it’s not your father who will hang if we fail.”

He stepped toward her. “No, but I owe Fulkham an enormous debt that I feel honor-bound to repay. If this is the only way to manage that, then I will damned well do as he asks. And so will you, by God.”

Lord, but she was tired of bullying men. First Papa, then Reynold, and now Niall and Lord Fulkham, all using her to get what they wanted.

She searched Niall’s face. Was his feeling of indebtedness his only reason for taking this on? “So you didn’t drum up this little scheme with Lord Fulkham just to get me in your clutches again.”

“My clutches? That’s not how I remember things. I remember asking you to marry me.”

She wrapped her arms about her waist. “You asked me to run away with you. It’s not the same. You asked me to trust that you would marry me eventually.”

“And you doubted that I would?” he asked hoarsely. “Oh, God, is that why you didn’t go with me?”

“I told you—I didn’t go because of Mama. I had to stay with her.”

“Right.” The chill in his gaze unnerved her. “Yet that didn’t stop you from marrying Trevor.”

She had half a mind to tell him why she’d married Reynold—because Niall had shown his true colors by abandoning her.

But then he would know how hard she’d fallen for him back then, how easily he’d ensnared her. He would think he could ensnare her again. And that was never going to happen. Better to let him keep thinking that she’d married Reynold because she’d wanted to.

“Reynold wasn’t asking me to travel to another continent.”

“Without a wedding ring on your finger,” he said snidely.

She tipped up her chin. “Exactly. Consider my position. You’d already balked at telling your family about me. So you can’t blame me for worrying that you were just . . . well . . .”

“Taking you off to have my wicked way with you. So that’s how you saw our last encounter—as my plotting a tawdry seduction.” He uttered a mirthless laugh. “And now you think that Fulkham and I might have cooked up a counterfeiting scheme involving your father, in order to help me lure you into my bed? Is that what you’re insinuating?”

When he put it that way, it sounded a bit ridiculous. “I . . . I suppose not.”

“How do I know that you didn’t cook up this scheme with Fulkham for your own nefarious purposes?”

She huffed out a breath. “Don’t be absurd. You’re the one who’s a friend of his. I barely know the man.”

Eyes darkening, he stepped right up to her. “That’s not how it appeared at dinner. The two of you were quite cozy, laughing and chatting like old friends. Or perhaps lovers?”

The accusation was so unfounded that it made her gasp. “How dare you?” She thrust her face up into his. “I am not that kind of woman, drat you!”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Nor am I that kind of man.” He bent so close that she could smell the brandy on his breath. “But trust me, if I wanted to lure you into my bed, I wouldn’t have to resort to some ridiculous scheme to do it.”

The sheer arrogance of that statement astonished her. “Really? You’re that sure of your ability to ‘lure’ me?”

That seemed to catch him off guard. “Damnation, that’s not what I me—”

“Well, sir, I may have been fool enough to believe all your sweet words and kisses years ago, but I know better now than to listen to a seducer’s lies.”

His eyes glittered. “They weren’t lies, and you know it, Bree.”

His nickname for her, the nearness of him, the fact that his eyes were the color of warm honey just now . . . all conspired to remind her of what they’d once been to each other.

She couldn’t catch her breath. Or move. Or speak.

They stood locked in silence while his gaze played over her face, hard and hungry. His breathing quickened the way it used to when he was about to kiss her, and she actually braced herself for the touch of his lips to hers.

Then he seemed to catch himself. Muttering an oath, he whirled away.

Relief coursed through her. At least she wanted it to be relief, anyway.

“Fortunately for you,” he bit out, “I have no desire to lure you into anything. Believe what you want about this scheme, but spending time with you would not have been my first choice for a way to repay Fulkham.”

“So if we’re both unhappy about that, how are we going to convince my father that we’re in love?”

“We don’t have to. We just have to convince him that we wish to marry. People marry for all sorts of reasons. We’ll simply pick another one, Bree.”

“Stop calling me that.”

He leveled a hard glance on her. “Why?”

Because it’s too much like before. Because it brings back memories. Because it makes me forget who you really are.

She met his gaze steadily. “My father is unaware of our past . . . friendship, remember? If you call me Bree, he’ll find it odd that you have a pet name for me when we can’t have known each other long. I’m sure he’s heard the news about your recent return to England. Apparently, it was in all the papers.”

She only wished she’d seen it, but at the time, she’d been so busy dealing with Delia and Silas and Aunt Agatha that she’d missed that particular article.

“Then I won’t use the nickname around him.” He smirked at her. “Bree.”

“Oh, you are such a . . . a rogue.”

That wiped the smirk from his face. “Well, I am supposed to be playing a reckless fellow who needs money.” His eyes narrowed. “Actually, that would work. I could be marrying you for your dowry.”

She stiffened. “My father may be unreliable and untrustworthy, but he’s not so awful that he’d want to see me wed to a fortune hunter.” Especially if the association was of no benefit to him.

“Fine.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You already think me a rogue, so how about if I want to marry you simply to have a beautiful wife in my bed? And what if you’re willing to go along because you want to be a countess, not to mention the mother of the next Earl of Margrave? That sort of transaction is fairly typical in our circles.”

She eyed him warily. “Is it believable, though? Why should you marry a beautiful woman of no consequence, when you can satisfy your desires with any available light-skirt?”

He shrugged. “Plenty of women snag lords based on appearance alone. Look at the Gunning sisters. Their father was a nobody, and their mother little more. One of them married a duke and the other an earl. For a man, it’s rather like acquiring a fine piece of art to show off to one’s friends.”

“How flattering,” she muttered. “I get to be the Rembrandt you flash around.”

“More like the Botticelli.” His gaze dipped down to her breasts, and there was no mistaking the glint of desire there before he jerked it back up. “The Birth of Venus comes to mind.”

Oh, Lord. Wasn’t that the painting of Venus rising naked from the sea on a shell? Scoundrel. And he’d said that this wasn’t about trying to seduce her.

Shaking off a frisson of awareness, she glared at him. “That makes it so much more palatable.” Reynold had essentially married her for her looks, and she’d liked it no better with him.

A chuckle escaped him. “I’m not saying that I feel like you’re a work of art to show off. Just that plenty of other men feel that way. And I can pretend to feel that way.”

“Yes, but will Papa believe that you’d want me just for my appearance? That’s the question.”

He scoured her with a heated look that burned wherever it touched. “Trust me, any man with eyes would believe it.”

Before she could react to that shockingly intimate glance, he turned and began to pace. “And it would work for our scheme in other respects. A man pursuing beauty will pay anything to gain it. That gives me a reason for needing quick funds—so I can buy you whatever pretty thing you want, including a proper wedding.” He halted in front of her. “I daresay you could make that role believable. Then you won’t have to pretend to be in love with me.”

The edge in his voice gave her pause. He was hinting at something insulting—she felt sure of it. But what?

Or perhaps she was just so annoyed with him in general that she saw insults wherever she looked.

“I guess that would work,” she said. “I’d certainly rather play a grasping female than one who’s mooning over you.” As I so foolishly did before. “Though Papa might not believe I could be so mercenary.”

“Why not?” he said evenly. “He’s mercenary, so surely he expects his daughter to follow in his tracks. Besides, people change. He hasn’t seen you in years, so he doesn’t know whom you’ve become.”

That was certainly true.

“And you do have a son to consider, who needs a father. That’s another reason for you to wed.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Yes, but I’d be a fool to marry a reckless character like you and risk my son’s future inheritance, wouldn’t I?”

A self-deprecating smile tightened his features. “Ah, but I have a title. Some women are fools for titles.”

“True.” That was difficult for her to fathom. She’d never cared much about such things. “Very well. We’ll do it your way. I’ll play a dimwitted upstart eager to rise in the world, and you’ll play the licentious lecher who wants me for my body. And we’ll do it to capture my dastardly father in an act of ‘treason.’ ” She gave a shaky laugh. “It sounds like something out of a gothic novel.”

“With any luck it will end like a novel, as well, with the virtuous heroine prevailing over godlessness. And your role needn’t include being dimwitted. Now, that I would find hard to believe.”

The compliment startled her, especially since it held the same edge as before, making her wonder if it really was a compliment. “Thank you. I think.” She wanted to say that she couldn’t see him as a licentious lecher, either, but the words stuck in her throat.

Although that reminded her of something she’d better settle before they launched into this. “Yours will be just a role, I hope. No need to . . . er . . . behave lecherously to play it.”

“What? But I was looking forward to that part.”

“Niall—”

“Relax, Bree,” he said acidly. “I won’t assault your precious virtue. I’ll have my hands full just trying to keep up with your father’s machinations.” As she let out a breath, he added, “And speaking of that, we should arrange a visit to him as soon as possible. Assuming that you’ve decided to do this.”

“As everyone keeps pointing out, I don’t have a choice.” She sighed. “But I do have one other question. How do you wish to handle announcing the engagement? Do we tell only Papa and hide it from anyone else, the way Lord Fulkham said we might? Or do we leap into it wholeheartedly and deal with the consequences later?”

“I prefer to leap in wholeheartedly, myself.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” she said. The man had always leapt into everything—meeting her, courting her . . . leaving her.

“Hear me out. It will be hard enough to manage the subterfuge involving the counterfeiting. If we have to keep track of who knows what about the engagement, too, we’ll forget ourselves and muddle everything.”

He flashed her a rueful smile. “Besides, we’d never keep it from my mother. Don’t let her flighty behavior fool you—she can sniff out a secret at ten paces, especially one of that sort. As for your aunt—”

“Oh no, my aunt!” Her stomach knotted. “Goodness gracious, I forgot all about her. How am I supposed to lie to her after everything she’s done for me and Silas?”

“Did you ever tell her about our previous association?”

“No.” She thought a moment. “But Delia and Clarissa told her about our encounter two weeks ago at Stoke Towers.”

“Then it shouldn’t surprise her that we know each other well enough to get engaged.”

She bit her lip. “Still, she’ll hate me when she finds out our betrothal was merely a ruse.”

“No need for her to find out at all. Once the counterfeiters are routed, you can pretend to be appalled that I used you as a pawn in my spying, and then you can break off the engagement. She’ll probably applaud you for jilting me.”

“I doubt it. She’ll probably applaud you for turning Papa in. She doesn’t like him, because of what he—” She halted, before she could reveal too much of her mortifying past. “Besides, in the meantime, I’ll have to make her think I’m eager to marry you, and I’m awful at playing roles. Unlike Delia, I can’t pretend to be something I’m not.”

When he snorted, she stared at him. “What do you mean by that?”

He turned instantly wary. “By what?”

“Your snort! It sounded as if you didn’t believe me. When have you seen me pretend anything?”

“During those months we were secretly courting, for one thing.” His expression turned curiously wary. “You had no trouble pretending not to know me when we were in public.”

She swallowed. “That was different. We hardly saw each other in public, since I wasn’t yet out. But every time I told some tale to Mama so I could sneak out and meet you, I felt horribly guilty. Thank heaven she was too sick to notice how bad a liar I am.”

He snorted again.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, we’ve got to go into this full force. Hell, we should announce it here, tonight. Clarissa will be ecstatic, and Mother—”

“Clarissa, oh, heavens! She’ll hate me after this, too!”

“No, she won’t,” he said firmly. “I’ll smooth it all over, I swear.”

“Niall—”

“Just think of your lad, all right? You’re doing this for him. Not Fulkham, not your country, not even your father. You’re doing it to save your son’s future. That’s all that matters. The rest will fall into place.”

“But what do I say if Clarissa wants to know details—how we fell in love, when we fell in love?”

“Tell her what we’re telling Sir Oswald. This is a sensible arrangement—a way of giving your son a father, that’s all. Clarissa will understand that.”

“I’m not so sure. Clarissa is something of a romantic.”

“But she knows that you’re not, doesn’t she?”

Brilliana caught herself before she could protest his assumption and reveal exactly how susceptible she still was to him, how much her heart had bled when he’d left. If he knew, he’d take advantage of it to get her into his bed. “Yes, she does.”

He nodded, as if that confirmed something. “You needn’t give her the nonsense about my checkered past and your mercenary desires. Just tell her—and your aunt, if you like—the part about how we’re making a practical arrangement. They won’t find that odd for a bachelor needing an heir and a widow needing a father for her son. Then, when everything falls apart, you won’t feel guilty for deceiving them, and they won’t worry about your broken heart.”

“Right.” She would be the only one worrying about her broken heart.

No, curse it! She would not lose her heart to him again. It was time she accepted that the man she’d loved had never existed. It was time she took control of her own happiness. Once this was done, she would purge Niall from her system, retire to Camden Hall, and live out her days there with Silas.

“Can you manage that?” he asked.

Perhaps, if she approached it the way he suggested. In a way it was the truth. This was a practical arrangement, to further Silas’s future. Only the marriage part was a lie.

“I believe so, yes.” She rubbed her arms. “I’ll have to, won’t I?”

He eyed her closely. “Don’t think of it that way, or your resentment will show. Think of it as an adventure. Your first effort at being a female spy. If you really mean to bury yourself in the country after this, then here’s your chance to have a bit of fun.” A trace of irony threaded his voice. “To flit about town on an earl’s arm and get invited to all the best parties.”

“Where I have to pretend to be something I’m not,” she said glumly.

“You’ll get used to it.” He came toward her. “Tomorrow I’ll come fetch you at your aunt’s at two, and we’ll go pay our first call on your father, if that’s all right with you.”

“The sooner the better, as far as I’m concerned. I just want to be done with this as quickly as possible.”

The door to the library opened, and Lord Fulkham stepped in. “Have you made a decision, Mrs. Trevor?”

Niall glanced at her expectantly.

“Yes. I’ll go along with your scheme.”

“For as long as it takes to catch my counterfeiter?”

She nodded.

Niall stepped forward. “We want to announce it tonight, while everyone is here. We both feel that making one grand announcement and having everyone know would be less demanding than juggling which people know what.”

“I see.” Lord Fulkham strode over to pour himself a glass of brandy, then stood there sipping it. “That actually might work better in convincing Sir Oswald, as well.” He stared at her. “Your father will hear the gossip about your betrothal, and just as he’s getting his feelings hurt that you haven’t involved him, you’ll show up to introduce him to Niall. He’ll be so pleased to have you seeking him out that he might not notice the strangeness of it.”

“You attribute an enormous amount of familial affection to my father,” she said dryly. “I daresay he won’t care one way or the other.”

“You’d better hope he does,” Lord Fulkham said, “or this scheme will be for naught.”

“One more thing,” Niall said. “I assume you’ve already looked into her father’s compatriots to the extent that you can without being obvious. So I’ll need a report of everything you know, whom you suspect, et cetera.”

“Of course. I’ll have that sent over first thing in the morning, along with samples of the counterfeit notes for you to examine and instructions on what to look for. You’ll need to be able to recognize the flawed ones when you see them.” He held up his glass. “But for tonight, let me be the first to congratulate you two on your engagement.”

When she couldn’t stifle a snort, Niall said, “Oh, stubble it, Fulkham.” He offered her his arm. “Come, Bree. Let’s show this arrogant arse what we’re made of, shall we?”

As she took his arm, determination coursed through her. She would show Lord Fulkham what she was made of, him and her father and everyone else. She would weather this as she’d weathered her arranged marriage to Reynold, and the awful things that had come afterward. She would do it for Silas, and only Silas.

Then, when it was done, she would retire to Camden Hall, hopefully with more knowledge about estate management than she’d had before. And with any luck, she wouldn’t have to deal with society sorts or Niall or her dratted father ever again.