Paying a call on Vanessa Darvin the following day was the last thing Leo wanted to do. However, he was curious about why she wanted to see him. The address that Poppy had given to him was of a Mayfair residence in South Audley Street, not far from the terrace he leased. It was a Georgian town house, neat red brick with white trim, fronted by a white pediment with four slender pilaster columns.

Leo liked Mayfair immensely, not so much for its fashionable reputation as the fact that it had once been deemed a “lewd and disorderly” place in the early eighteenth century by the Grand Jury of Westminster. It had been condemned for its practices of gaming, bawdy stage plays, prizefighting and animal baiting, and all the attendant vices of crime and prostitution. Over the next hundred years it had gradually gentrified until John Nash had sealed its hard-won respectability with Regent Street and Regent’s Park. To Leo, however, Mayfair would always be a respectable lady with a notorious past.

Upon arriving at the residence, Leo was shown to a reception room overlooking a two-tiered garden. Vanessa Darvin and Countess Ramsay were both present, welcoming him warmly. As they all sat and made the obligatory small talk, inquiring after the health of their family, and his, and the weather, and other safe and polite subjects of an opening acquaintance, Leo found that his impressions of the two women from the ball in Hampshire were unchanged. The countess was a garrulous biddy, and Vanessa Darvin was a self-involved beauty.

A quarter hour passed, and then a half hour. Leo began to wonder if he would ever discover why they had prevailed on him to call.

“Dear me,” the countess eventually exclaimed, “I quite forgot that I had intended to consult with Cook about the evening meal. Pardon, I must go at once.” She stood, and Leo automatically rose to his feet.

“Perhaps I should leave, as well,” he said, grateful for the opportunity to escape.

“Do stay, my lord,” Vanessa said quietly. A look passed between Vanessa and the countess before the latter left the room.

Recognizing the obvious pretext to leave them alone, Leo lowered back into the chair. He raised a brow as he regarded Vanessa. “So there is a point to this.”

“There is a point,” Vanessa confirmed. She was beautiful, her shining dark hair arranged in pinned-up curls, her eyes exotic and striking in her porcelain complexion. “I wish to discuss a highly personal matter with you. I hope I may rely on your discretion.”

“You may.” Leo studied her with a flicker of interest. There was a hint of uncertainty, urgency, beneath her provocative façade.

“I’m not certain how best to begin,” she said.

“Be blunt,” Leo suggested. “Subtleties are usually wasted on me.”

“I would like to put forth a proposition, my lord, that will satisfy our mutual needs.”

“How intriguing. I wasn’t aware that we had mutual needs.”

“Obviously yours is to marry and have a son quickly, before you die.”

Leo was mildly startled. “I hadn’t planned to expire any time soon.”

“What about the Ramsay curse?”

“I don’t believe in the Ramsay curse.”

“Neither did my father,” she said pointedly.

“Well, then,” Leo said, both annoyed and amused, “in light of my rapidly approaching demise, we shouldn’t waste a moment. Tell me what you want, Miss Darvin.”

“I need to find a husband as quickly as possible, or I will soon find myself in a very unpleasant position.”

Leo watched her alertly, making no response.

“Although we are not well acquainted,” she continued, “I know a great deal about you. Your past exploits are hardly a secret. And I believe all the qualities that would make you an unsuitable husband for anyone else would make you ideal for me. We are very much alike, you see. From all accounts, you are cynical, amoral, and selfish.” A deliberate pause. “So am I. Which is why I would never try to change any of those things about you.”

Fascinating. For a girl no more than twenty, she possessed preternatural self-confidence.

“Whenever you chose to stray,” Vanessa continued, “I wouldn’t complain. I probably wouldn’t even notice, because I would be similarly occupied. It would be a sophisticated marriage. I can give you children to ensure that the Ramsay title and estate will stay in your line of descent. Furthermore, I can—”

“Miss Darvin,” Leo said carefully, “pray don’t continue.” The irony of the situation was hardly lost on him—she was proposing a true marriage of convenience, free from messy desires and feelings. The diametric opposite of the marriage he wanted with Catherine.

Not long ago, that might have appealed to him.

Settling back in his chair, Leo regarded her with detached patience. “I don’t deny the stories of my past sins. But despite all that … or perhaps because of it … the idea of a sophisticated marriage doesn’t appeal to me in the least.”

He saw by the frozen stillness of Vanessa’s face that he had surprised her. She took her time about replying. “Perhaps it should, my lord. A better woman would be disappointed and shamed by you, and come to hate you. Whereas I ”—she touched her chest in a practiced gesture, drawing his attention to her round, perfect bosom—“would never expect anything from you.”

The arrangement Vanessa Darvin proposed was a perfect recipe for aristocratic domesticity. How fantastically bloodless and civilized.

“But I need someone to expect something from me,” he heard himself say.

The truth of that bolted through him like lightning. Had he really just said it? And did he truly mean it?

Yes. Dear God.

When and how had he changed? It had been a mortal struggle to leave behind the excesses of grief and self-loathing. Somewhere along the way he had stopped wanting to die, which was not quite the same thing as wanting to live. But that had been enough for a while.

Until Catherine. She had reawakened him like a cold dash of water in his face. She made him want to be a better man, not just for her, but for himself, as well. He should have known that Catherine would push him over the edge. Good God, how she pushed him. And he loved it. Loved her. His small, bespectacled warrior.

I won’t let you fall, she had said to him, the day he’d been injured at the ruins. I won’t let you turn into a degenerate. She had meant it, and he had believed her, and that had been the turning point.

How deeply he had resisted loving someone like this … and yet it was exhilarating. He felt as if his soul had been set on fire, every part of him burning with impatient joy.

Aware that his color had heightened, Leo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A smile twitched his lips as he reflected on the peculiar inconvenience of realizing that he was in love with one woman, when he had just been proposed to by another.

“Miss Darvin,” he said gently, “I am honored by your suggestion. But you want the man I was. Not the man I am now.”

The dark eyes flashed with malice. “You’re claiming to be reformed? You think to disown your past?”

“Not at all. But I have hopes for a better future.” He paused deliberately. “Ramsay curse notwithstanding.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Vanessa’s pretty features hardened. “I knew you were no gentleman, but I didn’t take you for a fool. You should leave now. It seems you’ll be of no use to me.”

Leo rose obligingly. He paused before taking his leave, giving her an astute glance. “I can’t help but ask, Miss Darvin … why don’t you simply marry the baby’s father?”

It turned out to be a very good guess.

Vanessa’s eyes flared before she managed to school her expression. “He is too far beneath me,” she said in a tight little voice. “I’m rather more discriminating than your sisters, my lord.”

“A pity,” Leo murmured. “They seem to be very happy in their lack of discrimination.” He bowed politely. “Farewell, Miss Darvin. I wish you luck in your search for a husband who’s not beneath you.”

“I don’t need luck, my lord. I will marry, and soon. And I’ve no doubt my future husband and I will be happy indeed when we come to take possession of Ramsay House.”

Returning to the hotel from a morning dressmaker’s appointment with Poppy, Catherine shivered in pleasure as they entered the Rutledge apartments. It was raining steadily, in fat chilling drops that heralded the approach of autumn. Despite the precautions of cloaks and umbrellas, she and Poppy had not escaped entirely from the damp. They both went to the parlor hearth, standing before the snapping fire.

“Harry ought to be coming back from Bow Street soon,” Poppy said, pushing back a wet tendril of hair that had stuck to her cheek. He had gone for a meeting with a special constable and a Bow Street magistrate to discuss Lord Latimer. So far Harry had been maddeningly closemouthed as to the specifics of the situation, promising that after he’d gone to the magistrate’s office, he would explain in detail. “And so should my brother, after seeing Miss Darvin.”

Catherine removed her spectacles and used a fold of her sleeve to clear the steam from the lenses. She heard a welcoming sound from Dodger, a sort of ferrety chuckling noise, and he came loping toward her out of seemingly nowhere. Replacing her spectacles, she bent to pick him up, and he wriggled into her arms. “You odious rat,” she murmured, cradling his long, sleek body.

“He loves you, Catherine,” Poppy said, shaking her head and smiling.

“Nevertheless, I’m returning him to Beatrix at the first opportunity.” But she furtively lowered her cheek and let Dodger kiss her.

There was a knock at the door, followed by the bustle of someone entering, a masculine murmur, a maid taking his coat and hat. Leo entered the parlor, bringing in the scents of damp wool and rain. His hair was wet at the ends, curling slightly against his neck.

“Leo,” Poppy exclaimed with a laugh, “how wet you are! Didn’t you take an umbrella?”

“Umbrellas are of little use when it’s raining sideways,” he informed her.

“I’ll fetch a towel.” Poppy darted out of the room.

Left alone with Leo, Catherine met his gaze. His smile faded, and he stared at her with alarming intensity. Why did he look at her that way? It seemed as if something had been cut loose in him, his eyes demon-blue and dangerous.

“How was your conversation with Miss Darvin?” she asked, tensing as he approached her.

“Illuminating.”

She frowned at the brief reply, taking refuge in a show of exasperation. “What did she ask of you?”

“She proposed a marriage of convenience.”

Catherine blinked. It was what she had expected, and yet to hear it caused a stab of jealousy.

Leo stopped beside her, the firelight flickering over his features. Tiny droplets of rain glittered like jewels on his sun-browned face. She wanted to touch that light mist, put her mouth on it, taste his skin.

“What was your response?” she forced herself to ask.

“I was flattered, of course,” he said smoothly. “One always appreciates being wanted.”

He knew she was jealous. He was toying with her. Catherine struggled to keep her temper from igniting.

“Perhaps you should accept her,” she said coolly.

His gaze didn’t move from hers. “Perhaps I did.”

Catherine drew in a sharp breath.

“Here you are,” Poppy said cheerfully, oblivious to the tension between them as she entered the room with a neat stack of toweling. She brought a cloth to Leo, who took it and blotted his face.

Catherine sat on the settee, letting Dodger coil in her lap.

“What did Miss Darvin want?” she heard Poppy ask.

Leo’s voice was muffled in the towel. “She proposed to me.”

“Good heavens,” Poppy said. “She clearly hasn’t any idea of what it’s like to tolerate you on a daily basis.”

“In her situation,” he returned, “a woman can’t afford to be particular.”

“What situation is that?” Catherine asked tersely.

Leo handed the towel back to Poppy. “She’s expecting a child. And she doesn’t care to marry the father. That’s not to go any further than this room, of course.”

The two women were silent. Catherine wrestled with a curious mixture of feelings … sympathy, hostility, jealousy, fear. With this bit of news, the advantages of a match between Leo and Miss Darvin were abundantly clear.

Poppy regarded her brother gravely. “Her circumstances must be quite desperate, for her to confide in you like that.”

Leo’s reply was forestalled as Harry entered the apartments, his coat and hat streaming with water. “Good afternoon,” Harry said, flashing a smile. The maid took the sodden hat and coat, and Poppy approached him with a fresh towel.

“You walked?” she asked, her gaze sweeping from the sodden hems of his trouser legs to his rain-dappled features. She reached up to dry his face with wifely solicitude.

“I very nearly swam,” Harry told her, seeming to enjoy her ministrations.

“Why didn’t you take a hackney or send for a carriage?”

“All the hackneys were taken as soon as the rain started,” Harry replied. “And it’s a short distance. Only a milksop would send for a carriage.”

“Better a milksop than to catch your death of cold,” Poppy fussed, following as he drew near the hearth.

Harry smiled and leaned down to steal a kiss from her as he worked at the wet knot of his cravat. “I never catch cold.” Drawing off the damp length of linen, he tossed it aside and stood by the fire. He glanced at Leo expectantly. “What of your meeting with Miss Darvin?”

Leo sat and leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees. “Never mind that, tell us about the visit to Bow Street.”

“Special Constable Hembrey has considered the information you provided, and he’s willing to take up an investigation.”

“What kind of investigation?” Catherine asked, looking from Harry to Leo.

Leo’s face was impassive as he explained. “A few years ago, Lord Latimer invited me to join an exclusive club. A kind of rakehell society, with secret meetings held in a former abbey.”

Catherine’s eyes widened. “What is the purpose of the society?”

Harry and Leo were both silent. Eventually Leo replied in a flat tone, his gaze fixed on a distant point outside the rain-streaked windows. “Unmitigated depravity. Mock religious rituals, assaults, unnatural crimes. I’ll spare you the details, except to say they were so distasteful that even at the height of my debauchery, I turned down Latimer’s invitation.”

Catherine watched him carefully. His face was set, a small muscle in his jaw flexing. The firelight gilded the taut lines of his face.

“Latimer was so certain I would want to participate,” Leo continued, “that he went into some detail regarding some of the crimes he was involved in. And by some fluke I happened to be sober enough to remember most of what he said.”

“Is the information enough to support prosecution?” Catherine asked. “And as a peer, doesn’t Lord Latimer have the right of freedom from arrest?”

“Only in civil cases,” Harry told her. “Not in criminal ones.”

“Then you think he’ll be brought to trial?”

“No, it won’t come to that,” Leo said quietly. “The society can’t allow their activities to be exposed. When they realize that Latimer is the focus of an investigation, they’ll probably force him to leave England before he can be prosecuted. Or better yet, they’ll see to it that he ends up as a floater in the Thames.”

“Will Constable Hembrey want to depose me?” Catherine brought herself to ask.

“Absolutely not,” Leo said with reassuring firmness. “There’s more than enough evidence against him without your involvement.”

“However it plays out,” Harry added, “Latimer will be far too busy to trouble you further, Cat.”

“Thank you,” Catherine told Harry. Her gaze flickered back to Leo as she added, “That is a great relief.” After an awkward pause, she repeated herself lamely. “A great relief, indeed.”

“You don’t seem all that relieved,” Leo observed lazily. “Why is that, Marks?”

This lack of sympathy, along with his earlier taunts about Miss Darvin, were too much for Catherine’s shredded nerves.

“If you were in my position,” she said stiffly, “you wouldn’t exactly be dancing a jig, either.”

“You’re in a fine position.” Leo’s eyes were like blue ice. “Latimer will soon be gone, Rutledge has acknowledged you publicly, you’re a woman of means, and you have no obligations or commitments to anyone. What could you possibly want that you don’t have?”

“Nothing at all,” she snapped.

“I think you’re sorry to stop running and hiding. Because now you have to face the unfortunate fact that you have nothing … and no one … to run to.”

“It’s enough for me to stay still,” she said coldly.

Leo smiled with provoking insouciance. “That brings to mind the old paradox.”

“What paradox?”

“About what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.”

Harry and Poppy were both silent, looking back and forth between them.

“I suppose I’m the immovable object?” Catherine asked sarcastically.

“If you like.”

“Well, I don’t like,” she said, scowling, “because I’ve always thought that was an absurd question.”

“Why?” Leo asked.

“There is no possible answer.”

Their gazes clashed and held.

“Yes, there is,” Leo said, seeming to enjoy her rising fury.

Harry joined in the debate. “Not from a scientific standpoint. An immovable object would require infinite mass, and the unstoppable force would require infinite energy, neither of which is possible.”

“If you argue in terms of semantics, however,” Leo countered with maddening calmness, “there is an answer.”

“Naturally,” Harry said dryly. “A Hathaway can always find a way to argue. Enlighten us—what is the answer?”

Leo replied with his gaze fixed on Catherine’s tense face. “The unstoppable force takes the path of least resistance and goes right around the object … leaving it far behind.”

He was challenging her, Catherine realized. Arrogant, manipulative cad, using poor Vanessa Darvin’s plight to provoke her and implying what might happen if Catherine didn’t give in to him. Go right around the object … leave it far behind … Indeed!

She jumped to her feet, glaring at him. “Why don’t you go on and marry her, then?” Snatching up her reticule, and Dodger’s limp body, she stormed out of the apartments.

Leo was instantly at her heels.

“Ramsay—” Harry began.

“Not now, Rutledge,” Leo muttered, striding after Catherine. The door was closed with a force that caused it to tremble in its frame.

In the ensuing stillness, Harry looked at Poppy in bewilderment. “I’m not usually slow-witted,” he said. “But what the devil were they bickering about?”

“Miss Darvin, I think.” Going to him, Poppy sat in his lap and linked her arms around his neck. “She’s with child and wants to marry Leo.”

“Oh.” Harry leaned his head against the back of the chair. His mouth twisted. “I see. He’s using it to try and push Catherine into making a decision.”

“You don’t approve,” Poppy said rather than asked, stroking a damp lock of hair off his forehead.

Harry gave her a wry glance. “It’s exactly what I would do in his position. Of course I don’t approve.”

“Stop following me!”

“I want to talk to you.” Leo kept pace with Catherine as she hurried along the hallway, his ground-eating strides accounting for every two of her short ones.

“I have no interest in anything you have to say.”

“You’re jealous.” He sounded more than a little pleased by the fact.

“Of you and Miss Darvin?” She forced a scornful laugh. “I pity the both of you. I can’t conceive of a more ill-destined match.”

“You can’t deny that she’s a very attractive woman.”

“Except for her neck,” Catherine couldn’t resist saying.

“What the devil is the matter with her neck?”

“It’s abnormally long.”

Leo tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a laugh. “I can overlook that. Because if I marry her, I’ll get to keep Ramsay House, and we’ll have a baby already on the way. Convenient, isn’t it? Moreover, Miss Darvin promised that I could philander to my heart’s content, and she would look the other way.”

“What about fidelity?” Catherine asked in outrage.

“Fidelity is so passé. It’s laziness, really, not bothering to go out and seduce new people.”

“You told me that you would have no difficulty with fidelity!”

“Yes, but that was when we were talking about our marriage. Marriage with Miss Darvin will be another thing entirely.”

Leo stopped with her as they reached the door of her suite. While Catherine held the sleeping ferret, Leo reached inside her reticule and extracted the key. Catherine didn’t spare him a glance as he opened the door for her.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“No.”

Leo pushed his way in regardless, and closed the door behind them.

“Pray don’t let me keep you,” Catherine said grimly, going to set Dodger in his little basket. “I’m sure you have much to do. Starting with changing the name on the special license.”

“No, the license is only good for you. If I marry Miss Darvin, I’d have to pay for a new one.”

“I hope it’s expensive,” she said vehemently.

“It is.” Leo approached her from behind and put his arms around her, hauling her back securely against him. “And there’s another problem.”

“What is it?” she asked, struggling in his grasp.

His mouth touched the edge of her ear. “I want you,” he whispered. “Only you. Always you.”

Catherine went still. Her eyes closed against a sudden wet sting. “Did you accept her proposal?”

Leo nuzzled tenderly into the hollow beneath her ear. “Of course not, pea-goose.”

She couldn’t prevent a little sob of angry relief. “Then why did you imply that you had?”

“Because you need to be pushed. Otherwise you’ll drag this affair out until I’m too decrepit to be of any use to you.” Steering Catherine toward the bed, he scooped her up and tossed her to the mattress. Her spectacles went flying to the side.

“What are you doing?” Catherine struggled indignantly, propping herself up on her elbows. She was buried in the masses of her skirts, with their sodden hems and heavy damp flounces. “My dress is wet.”

“I’ll help you remove it.” His solicitous tone was belied by the wicked gleam in his eyes.

She floundered amid the layers and flounces, while Leo unhooked and unfastened her with astonishing efficiency. One would have thought he had more than two arms, as he turned her this way and that, his hands reaching everywhere. Ignoring her protests, he pulled the heavy skirt, with its stiffened muslin lining, away from the detachable bodice, and tossed it to the floor. Her shoes were removed and dropped over the side of the bed. Flipping Catherine to her stomach, he began on the fastenings of the heavily ruched bodice.

“I beg your pardon, I did not ask to be husked like an ear of corn!” She twisted in an effort to push away his busy hands. A squeak escaped her as he found the tapes of her drawers and pulled them loose.

With a low chuckle, Leo anchored her squirming body with his legs, and kissed the exposed nape of her neck. She felt warm all over, her nerves sparked by the touch of his sensuous mouth.

“Did you kiss her?” she heard herself blurt out, her voice muffled in the bedclothes.

“No, love. I wasn’t tempted by her in the least.” Leo bit lightly into the soft muscle of her neck, stroked the fine skin with his tongue, and she gasped. His hand slipped inside her drawers and circled over her bottom. “No other woman in the world could excite me as you do. But you’re too damn stubborn, and far too good at protecting yourself. There are things I want to say to you … do to you … and the fact that you’re not ready for any of it is going to drive us both mad.”

He touched further between her thighs, finding wetness, stroking in soft circles. She moaned and writhed beneath him. Her corset was still snugly laced, the compression of her waist seeming to divert sensation down between her thighs. Although part of her rebelled at the feeling of being held down and caressed, her body reacted with helpless pleasure.

“I want to make love to you.” Leo traced the inner structure of her ear with the tip of his tongue. “I want to go as deep as you can take me, and feel you tighten around me, and I want to come inside you.” A finger slid inside her, and another, and she whimpered softly. “You know how good it would feel,” he whispered, stroking her slowly. “Yield to me, and I’ll love you without stopping. I’ll stay in you all night.”

Catherine gasped for breath, while her heart thumped madly. “You would have me in the same position as Miss Darvin,” she said. “Pregnant and pleading for you to marry me.”

“God, yes, I would love that.”

She nearly choked with indignation, while his long fingers teased her inside and out. Her body began to clench in a slow, steady pulse of desire. There were great swaths of fabric caught between their bodies, layers of remaining clothing, and all she could feel was his mouth at the back of her neck, and that devilishly persuasive hand.

“I have never said this to anyone before.” Leo’s voice was like ragged velvet. “But the idea of you with child is the most insanely arousing thing I’ve ever imagined. Your belly all swollen, your breasts heavy, the funny little way you would walk … I would worship you. I would take care of your every need. And everyone would know that I’d made you that way, that you belonged to me.”

“You … you are so…” She couldn’t even think of a suitable word.

“I know. Woefully primitive.” Laughter threaded through his voice. “But I must be tolerated, because I’m a man and I really can’t help it.”

He caressed her with gentle, explicit manipulation, his fingers slick and tireless. She felt a new flush of arousal, the liquid heat spreading out to her fingers and toes. Moving behind her, he tugged her drawers to her knees, and fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers. He let his weight settle on her deliciously. A blunt, moist pressure slipped between her thighs, not quite entering. White fire raced through her senses, and her body trembled at the verge of release … so close …

“You have a decision to make, Cat.” Leo kissed the side of her throat hungrily, his mouth strong and wet. “Either tell me to stop right now, or let me take you all the way. Because I can’t withdraw at the last moment any longer. I want you too much. And I probably will make you pregnant, love, because I’m feeling rather potent at the moment. So it’s all or nothing. Tell me yes or no.”

“I can’t. ” Catherine thrashed in frustration as his hips lifted from hers. As he rolled her over to face him, she glared up at him. Unable to stop himself, he lowered his head and kissed her voraciously, savoring the sound of need that came from her throat.

“A pity,” he said, breathing heavily. “I was working up to something really lascivious.” Rolling off her, he reached for the fall of his trousers, muttering something about the risk of doing himself permanent injury as he tried to fasten them again.

Catherine watched him incredulously. “You’re not going to finish?”

He let out an unsteady sigh. “As I said, all or nothing.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling with desire until her teeth chattered. “Why are you trying to torture me?”

“It’s becoming clear that a lifetime of patience wouldn’t be enough to break through your guard. So I’ll have to try something else.” Leo kissed her gently and left the bed. After he raked both hands through his disheveled hair and straightened his clothes, he gave her a smoldering glance, followed by a grin that seemed to mock both of them simultaneously. “I’m waging war, love. And the only way to win this kind of war is to make you want to lose.”