“It is too much, your grace. I couldn’t possibly wear such a masterpiece.” Katherine slid her hand along the golden silk gown with an abundance of silver silk embroidery and decorated with hundreds of glass beads and silk cording. Never had she seen such a beautiful dress and picking it up she held it before her in the looking glass, surprised the color suited her.

“You will look beautiful, and since you’re staying here this evening, I shall not take no for an answer. I’ll have my maid do your hair, and you’ll be the prettiest lady at the Leeders’ annual ball.” Darcy rang the bell for a servant in the pretty little room she’d allocated her. A single bed covered in a blue floral design complimented the blue velvet drapes across the bank of windows. A small chaise sat at the end of the bed and considering the size of the room it allowed one to warm themselves before the well stoked fire.

“You’re being too nice, but truly, I’ll feel odd wearing something that suits people of your sphere more than mine. Won’t people look at me as a fraud?”

Darcy sent the footman who she was talking to at the door away with orders to bring up a hip bath and turned to her with a small frown across her brow.

“I don’t ever wish to hear you say such a thing again. You’re the duchess of Athelby and marchioness of Aaron’s closest friend. No one would dare look down on you in any other way other than pure adoration. And if they do not, they will have me to face.”

Darcy came over and clasped her hand, squeezing it a little. “Some people are not born into privilege such as I was, and some marry into this life, such as Cecilia has, but it does not make anyone anywhere else any less worthy of respect or cordiality. We are all humans after all. I do not want you to feel like you’re lesser than us for you are not.” Darcy took the gown from her and laid it on the bed. “If I have made you feel like you would be uncomfortable in this gown, you are of course free to wear whatever you like, and I shall stand beside you, just as proud as I would should you be wearing nothing at all.”

Katherine chuckled, and went to stand before the dress. Oh, it was so very pretty, so very heavy and would’ve had hundreds of sewing hours in the creation of it. “I merely worry that people will think I’m trying to be someone I’m not. But,” she said, sighing, admiring the gown yet again.

“You’re right. What should I care what people think or believe, it is only a gown.” Katherine turned to Darcy. “I shall wear it, and I shall enjoy every moment I’m in such a beautiful masterpiece. Thank you for allowing me this little luxury.”

Darcy clapped her hands just as a light knock sounded on the door. “Kat, the night will be so much fun, and you will look utterly stunning.” Darcy bade the servants enter and a footman carried in a hip bath along with a bevy of other servants who brought up steaming buckets of hot water. A maid left her linens and lavender soap on a chair beside the bath.

“I shall leave you now, my dear, and will see you after you’re dressed. Ring the bell when you’re ready for your hair to be dressed and my maid will attend you. I shall see you in the entrance hall by eight.”

The Leeders’ ball was a crush and Katherine followed the duke and duchess into the ballroom after they were introduced at the door. If it felt as though hundreds of eyes had turned her way she was not far off. Looking about the room, a lot of the haute ton glanced in her direction, some curious no doubt on whom the duke and duchess had brought while others, those that had seen her at other events looked down their nose at her even being in their presence.

Katherine raised her chin and came to stand beside Darcy as a footman carrying a tray of champagne stopped before them. Katherine picked up a flute and took a well needed sip. “There are so many people here this evening. How will we find Cecilia in this crush?”

The duchess craned her neck, looking about and nodding in acknowledgment to those who tried to gain her attention. “Cecilia and Hunter will be along soon, and I told her I would be in this situation in the ballroom, so she should find us well enough.”

Lady Oliver, who had been traveling abroad with her husband Viscount Oliver waved to the duchess and made a direct line toward them. The duchess smiled, clearly pleased that her friend who’d been away from town for the past eighteen months was back among them.

“Fran,” the duchess said, kissing her friend on both cheeks before they embraced quickly. “I’m so happy to see you again.” She kissed the viscount and then turned them to where Katherine and the duke were waiting.

“Athelby you know, but let me introduce you to my new friend, Miss Katherine Martin. She grew up with Lady Aaron, as you may remember me telling you in my letters.”

Lady Oliver smiled at Kat and she had the impression she was genuinely happy to meet her finally. She let the few nervous knots dissipate in her stomach that had lodged there wondering if the duchesses’ friend wouldn’t approve of her.

Katherine bobbed a curtsy. “It’s lovely to meet you, Lady Oliver. I understand you’ve been traveling abroad and have seen even the pyramids of Egypt.”

Her ladyship smiled, clearly remembering the wonderful sights she’d visited. “We did, and they were the most wonderful of places. And I almost forgot to tell you Darcy, but I found the most amazing woman while traveling there. Her name is Lady Georgina Savile, a widow of great fortune, and she’ll be arriving in London by month’s end. Lord Oliver and myself are going to be holding a ball in her honor and you must simply come, you too, Miss Martin, if you wish to.”

“I should be honoured to attend,” Katherine said, delighted to be included. The conversation turned to the other sites the viscountess’ had seen over her many months abroad and Katherine took the opportunity to watch the dancers and other guests.

On the dance floor a flash of scarlet caught her eye and looking, spotted Earl Leighton dancing with a blonde woman in a deep red silk gauze gown and silk trim that sat over a white muslin gown. The gown was so becoming on the woman, and her figure highlighted every pretty little feature and silk design that sat across the bodice.

Katherine’s enjoyment of the ball dimmed a little at seeing Lord Leighton so entranced by the woman who had curves that perfectly accentuated the woman’s form. It shouldn’t surprise Katherine that she would not turn his head. One needed to be a siren to capture the beautiful and popular Lord Leighton.

The night passed and soon it was after midnight and still no one other than the duke and the marquess of Aaron had asked her to dance. Not even the pretty gown her friend had given her to use could persuade men to ask her to step out with them.

Katherine tried to include herself into her friends’ conversations as much as she could, but as the night crept further into the early hours of the morning, it became harder and harder. She’d been up early the day of the ball to check the delivery of the hardwoods that were to be used at Lord Leighton’s home, and she’d had a meeting with Mr. Perry and his lordship’s man of business Mr. Oakes to discuss the week’s progress and what was to go forward the next. Her presence at a ball, when it was well past her retiring time, left her eyes heavy and her feet aching, even in slippers that felt like she was walking on air.

The mention of Lord Leighton’s name caught her attention and she looked up from inspecting her champagne glass to see his lordship walking over to them. This time a different woman from the one in scarlet she’d seen him dancing with earlier in the night. This woman had striking auburn hair, tied up in in a motif of curls and a delicate strand of diamonds threaded throughout. Her gown was almost ebony in colour with gold thread in decorative flowers around the hem, bodice and sleeves.

Katherine gritted her teeth, not wanting to believe his lordship was so obsessed with beauty as he seemed to be. She was a fool to have even thought of him in any other way more than as a mutual acquaintance.

“Lord Leighton, how good of you to drag yourself away from your entertainments to come speak with us,” the duchess of Athelby said, giving him her hand to kiss.

He bowed and introduced his guest to them all. A Lady Scottle, wife of the late Baron Scottle.

His lordship’s gaze moved over them all but stopped on her, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance. She raised her chin, readying herself for whatever he was about to say. The last thing she wanted him to think was she was dressing up to impress his set. It was the last thing she was doing, no matter what she wore, she would never succumb to changing who she was.

“Miss Martin?” he asked, stepping toward her and dropping Lady Scottle’s arm who merely went to stand beside Darcy and Cecilia and started to chat.

Katherine bobbed a curtsy. “Lord Leighton, I hope you’re enjoying the ball.”

His attention flicked over her again and warmth speared through her stomach as his eyes heated appreciatively. She’d seen disappointment often reflected in others, and duty by gentleman when they’d done the right thing and danced with her. But in this case, the reaction on Lord Leighton’s face wasn’t anything she’d ever seen before. Certainly not at her. She’d seen appreciation and desire bestowed on others, but she’d never been pretty enough to warrant such sincere admiration.

It would seem a beautiful gown and a little rouge on one’s lips could do wonders.

“Is that really you?” he said, picking up her hand and bowing over it. “How beautiful you look this evening.”

Katherine took back her hand when he forgot to let it go and smiled to quell the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. “It is me, merely dressed a little more appropriately for the occasion.”

“Gold suits you,” he said, staring at her with what Katherine hoped was awe.

The lady he’d walked over to their group with came up to him and slid her arm through his lordship’s. A very familiar gesture if Katherine had ever seen one. “Dance with me, Hamish. It’s to be a waltz.”

Katherine stepped back to give them privacy and started when Lord Leighton clasped her hand, placing it onto the crook of his arm. “Forgive me, Lady Scottle but I’d already promised this dance to Miss Martin.”

The duchess stepped in and pulled her ladyship over toward where she was speaking with Cecilia. Katherine walked out onto the floor with his lordship, masking her shock that his lordship had just lied to a woman. Fibbed most believably and worse she’d allowed him to, just so she could dance with him.

He swung her into his arms and she met his gaze, trying not to get lost in the beautiful vision that was Lord Leighton. “You just fibbed, my lord. To a woman who did not expect you to ask another woman right in front of her to dance. Are you always so flippant?”

His lordship grinned, his gloved hand warm about hers. His touch upon her hip made her conscious of the fact that she wasn’t as rounded and womanly as the lady he’d left with their friends. Her figure although thin, and pleasant enough, wasn’t soft womanly curves, or as bountiful in some regions as all men liked. Or so she’d heard...

“I think that is the wrong word and unless you tell Lady Scottle she will never know the truth of the matter. And anyway, I wished to dance with you.”

“Why?” she asked, truly baffled by being in his arms. Katherine couldn’t help but wonder if he was playing with her, gifting her with crumbs before moving on to more substantial delicacies. She dearly hoped her admiration wasn’t evident to him, especially if he felt no regard or admiration or something of the sort.

“Well, we have mutual friends, and it’s only expected of me to dance with you at least once. Why, I’m sure Athelby and Aaron have both already stepped out with you, have they not?”

“Yes, they have,” she grudgingly admitted, but still, that was no excuse to dance surely. Katherine shook the idea away that he actually wanted to dance with her because he liked her. Such notions helped no one, especially herself. She was a wallflower, well and truly, and no matter what her friends did to try and enable men to court her, that didn’t always happen.

Who was she fooling. It never happened.

“And if you think I have forgotten the service you paid me regarding my bill at the Inn some weeks ago you’re mistaken. I have not forgot that I promised I owed you for your generous service. This is merely me trying to right the wrong I placed you in that night.”

Katherine couldn’t meet his eye as a thought so wicked landed and flowered in her mind. The idea was tempting and at six and twenty was she brave enough to actually ask his lordship what she desired. Him, mostly. For one night at least... “While it is pleasant dancing with you, my lord, I do perhaps have something to ask, but here is not the place or time.”

He pulled her close as they made a turn in the waltz. “You have me curious, Miss Martin. Please, let us talk now. Tell me what you wish.”

Nerves pitted in her stomach. Could she be so bold? The words stuck in her throat, but having been privy to the affectionate nature of her friends’ marriage, of their discussions of married life, it made Katherine curious. What was it like to be with a man. Did all men make a woman’s toes curl in their slippers when they were kissed, like the duchess said the duke makes her? Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze with more determination than she thought possible. “Meet me on the terrace in half an hour and I shall tell you, but here is too public, too many eyes watching. Will you do that for me?”

Lord Leighton frowned, but nodded. “Of course. I shall meet you, just as you asked.”

Hamish danced with Lady Scottle after leaving Miss Martin with the duke and duchess of Athelby. The late Baron’s wife was a beautiful woman, lush, loving and widowed, and if he played his cards right this evening, the night might end pleasurable for them both.

He stepped out of the card room, whisky in hand and watched as the woman who’d knocked him off his feet with her raw beauty an hour before slid away from her party and headed for the terrace. He didn’t move, merely waited a few more minutes before he too, headed outside.

The night was warm, and there were a few couples outdoors, enjoying the balmy night air that was refreshing after being indoors with a room that smelt of wax, perfumes and human odour no one enjoyed sniffing.

Hamish strolled along the terrace, stopping to talk to those he knew, all the while sipping his whisky and looking for Miss Martin who seemed to have disappeared. He came to the end of the terrace and all that lay before him was the shadowed manicured garden.

The sound of ‘psst’ came from the balustrade. Looking over he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped at seeing Miss Martin step out from a small alcove along the terrace that sat at ground level. Hamish strode down the stairs and joined Miss Martin in the secluded spot that wasn’t visible to those strolling the terrace and sat on the cold stone seat.

“You’re being very mysterious, and may I add a little scandalous Miss Martin. Should you be caught here with me…me especially, your reputation will be ruined.”

She shook her head, dismissing his words before sitting straight and clasping her hands firmly in her lap. “You said before, you wished to help me, that you owed me after I came to your aid in Berkshire. And if you’re sure your hiring of my father does not dispel your debt, then there is something I wish to ask. Before I succumb to logical thought and run away.”

He chuckled, liking the fact that Miss Martin had a sense of humor. “Now I’m even more curious. Please ask, and I shall see what I can do.”

“Please ensure you’re sure, for once I’ve spoken the words there is no turning back.” Her eyes were wide, and there was an edge of vulnerability to her words that he adored. He clasped his hands tight in his lap lest he reached out to touch her, any part of her, just because.

“It came to me tonight what I would like you to do for me.”

“Really?” he asked, a little unsettled by the fact that he was quite alone in the garden with a woman who the more time he spent with, grew more becoming with every moment. He pulled himself up on the thought. Her father was the builder, a tradesman he’d hired to rebuild his home. He did not need to start seeing potential where there was none. Miss Martin would no sooner look at him for a husband, than he would look at her for a wife. Not that he was looking for marriage he reminded himself. Hamish tried to remember how many drinks he’d imbibed this evening, and lost count after four. “What is it?”

She bit her bottom lip and he fought not to growl. The woman was making this bloody dreadfully hard not to kiss her.

“It is a well-known fact in my usual social sphere that I’m a wallflower. I do not delude myself with the thought of great marriage now. Did you know that I’m the oldest of all my friends? Even Cecilia, who I’m two years her senior.”

His lips twitched. “I hardly believe that calls for you to be termed a matron, Miss Martin. You are still younger than myself, and I do not consider myself ancient.” Although it was unfortunately and maybe even unfairly true what she was saying. By Jove, he’d even said such a thing to the duke and marquess. Not that he would admit to such things. He wasn’t a complete imbecile.

“How old are you, my lord?”

“I’m six and twenty.”

She half smiled, shrugging. “Then yes, we are the same age, but I fear you’re forgetting what that means for a woman to what that means for a man. You’re still young, perhaps even too young to even consider marriage, whereas for myself, I’m considered on the shelf and practically decrepit.”

He couldn’t help himself, he chuckled. “You do not look decrepit tonight, my dear.” And she did not. Not at all. If anything, she was becoming one of the most beautiful and intelligent women he’d ever met. His steward couldn’t speak highly enough of Miss Martin, her ideas and no-nonsense approach to tradesmen and those who worked for her father. Perhaps if she believed herself not marriageable quality he should push her toward his steward. The man wasn’t attached from what he knew, and Miss Martin was from the same social set as Mr. Oakes.

Hamish went to mention such facts but held his words when he caught her eye. They were so wide, and a little conniving that he wondered and wanted to know how she wished for him to pay her back.

“Thank you for the compliment, even though I believe you hand them out like Gunther’s hands out ices. Even so, this is what I propose.” She took a fortifying breath and said, “I wish for you, Lord Leighton to sleep with me. Sleep with me as a man sleeps with a woman he desires, how a husband ought to sleep with his wife. How a man sleeps with his mistress.”

Hamish swallowed, his body roaring to life, his mind answering yes, while his mouth seemed barren of words. He cleared his throat. “You cannot mean such things, Miss Martin. You will be ruined.” Damn it, this idea was wrong. Immoral even. Miss Martin was a gently bred young lady who could still make a suitable, happy match in life. “It would not be right. I will not do it.” Blast it though, the idea, now that it was in his head was not a bad one…

The image of her long legs wrapped about his hips. Blast it. This was not at all proper.

“I’m becoming an old maid, my lord. Let me experience what it is like for a woman to lay in the arms of a man just once. I do not want to die, whenever that shall be and wonder what I missed out on. For I’m sure after being around the duke and marquess and their wives I’m missing out on something.”

He stood, needing to distance himself, although he kept himself hidden within the small alcove. Hamish understood very well what she was missing out on, and as much as his heart went out to her, this was not something he could help with. No matter how alluring the thought may be. “Our friends, should they find out would never speak to me again. They would demand that we marry, and I do not wish to marry–”

“Me?” she finished for him, hurt crossing her features before she masked the emotion.

The single word brought him up quick. “No, not you, not anyone. Not yet at least, or at all.” Hamish ran a hand through his hair, his mind conjuring up all thoughts of images of what Miss Martin would look like naked on his bed, beguiling and begging for more. Her long legs, and slim waist, her dark, chocolate rich hair, laying softly against her perfect creamy shoulders.

Bloody hell…

“I will make no demands on you other than one night in your bed. Forgive me but I must speak plainly. I have a substantial dowry, more than most in my circle, but I’m passable pretty and marriage does not look forthcoming to me. I have tried to gain the attention of gentleman when they’d bothered to court me, but it has always failed and come to nothing. I will make no demands on you. My future, even if an unmarried maid, will be a future of comfort where I would not have to work if I do not wish. I merely want to experience the marriage bed and nothing more. You said you were in my debt. This would clear that debt. It is what I wish.”

He came and sat beside her again, hating the fact that she damn well smelt as alluring as her words. “What if you become pregnant? What then, Miss Martin?” That would be the worst of disasters. The memory of his sister haemorrhaging, writhing in pain shot through his mind.

He looked at her, her large brown eyes wide in hope and vulnerability.

“I’m not so green that I do not know there are means, things women and men can do to stop such things. Why,” she said, gesturing, “there are many mistresses in this city that are not mothers, so I know some methods are successful.”

Hamish wasn’t sure if he wished to strangle the woman for offering herself to him like a sacrificial lamb or damn well kiss her senseless, right here and now. His attention snapped to her lips. Damn she had a delectable mouth, lips that begged kissing, and plenty of it. How had she not been married by the gentlemen in her social set. Were they dunderheads!

“There are ways, but nothing that a well-bred young woman such as yourself should know about or even mention.” And even with such ways, women still ended up pregnant. His sister for one who was very similar in frame to Katherine had been warned not to have children. The doctor termed her body as unsuitable to enable birth, something about her narrow hips, and Miss Martin’s were very similar. Should she become pregnant, the thought of her dying due to his irresponsibleness was enough to turn his stomach.

She laughed, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. “I’m as old as you, Lord Leighton, not a green country miss. Have you forgotten I work at the London Relief Society with Cecilia? There is not much I have not seen or been told in some way or another. We are both adults. I’m proposing to you what I want and offering solutions to problems you’re throwing at me. The way I see it is we’re having a reasonable and grown up conversation. Something more women should do with the men in their lives if you must know.”

No, he didn’t know, and nor did he wish to be having this conversation at all. He would not sleep with a virgin simply because she did not wish to die an old maid. Why, even tomorrow a young man could bow before her at an event where they could fall madly in love, and then where would she be. Ruined.

“I will not do it. I’m sorry.” He stood. “Please, since we’re to work with each other on the rebuild of my home do not bring up this suggestion again. I shall repay you in any way I can, in any other way I can, but I will not take you to my bed.” He would not risk her life or her honour.

Hamish swallowed when she stood, a tall woman he could almost look her straight in the eye. “Is there any way I can change your mind, my lord?”

He swallowed, fisting his hands at his side less he wrench her into his arms and kiss the hell out of her. Scare her away. Damn it all to hell. He wasn’t a debaucher of virgins. And what the hell was a woman doing tempting him so? Even now, the deepening allure of her voice, her slight but determined lean toward him as she waited for a reply told him all he needed to know as to what game she played. She was playing him, but she would not win. This would not do.

“There is not. Goodnight.” Hamish strode back toward the terrace steps and sought the safety of the ballroom, anything but the enticement that remained in the garden. He knew what it was to feel sorry for Adam now, but he would not bite the forbidden fruit. Not even for one night.