stop bamming me. I have been watching you all evening.”
“I know. I saw you. That was when I first realized how very rude you were.”
“I watched you at first because you are devilishly attractive.” He smiled and raised his hand, running his forefinger down her cheek.
A shiver ran through Marianne, unfamiliar and delightful, and she twitched away from him, irritated with herself.
“I was wondering how to get an introduction when I saw you with Miss Castlereigh and Lord Buckminster. I knew they would introduce us, but by the time I got there, you were gone. I followed you out into the hall, and that is when I noticed your extremely odd behavior.”
“You were spying on me? I find that extremely odd, my lord.”
“You have the advantage of me. You seem to know who I am—that is twice you have called me ‘my lord.’ Yet I do not know your name.”
“It is scarcely any of your business.”
“You may as well tell me. I shall find out from Bucky anyway.”
Marianne frowned. “I am Marianne Cotterwood. Mrs. Cotterwood.”
“Oh, yes, a widow. I forgot.”
“I wish you would stop using that supercilious tone. Why should I say I am a widow if I am not?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps you are. On the other hand, perhaps it is simply part of your sham.”
“I am not shamming. This is a pointless conversation, and I am leaving.”
She started around him, but Lambeth reached out and grasped the low cabinet, blocking her exit. “Not until you tell me why you were sneaking up and down this hall, peering into all the rooms. And why you came into this one and proceeded to walk around it, lifting each picture, until you found the one with a safe behind it.”
Marianne’s throat was dry, and only partly because of her trepidation. Lambeth’s body was only inches from her; his eyes were boring into hers. It was hard to breathe, and she felt strangely hot and cold.
“You are a thief, Mrs. Cotterwood,” he said in a low voice. “I can think of no other explanation.”
“No.” Her voice came out barely a whisper. Her lips were dry, and her tongue crept out to moisten them.
Lambeth’s eyes darkened, and his hand came up, his thumb tracing her lower lip. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, but I really cannot allow you to go about robbing my friends.” He paused, and a smile touched his lips. “On the other hand, Lord Batterslee is not really what I would call a friend. More an acquaintance, actually.”
He leaned closer, his warmth and scent surrounding her. Marianne closed her eyes, almost dizzy from his nearness. Then his lips were on hers, and she jumped slightly in surprise, but she did not move away. The sensation he was creating in her was too sweet and unfamiliar. She relaxed, giving in to the pleasure. She felt the hot exhalation of his breath against her cheek as he sensed her yielding. His arms went around her, and he pulled her closer, his mouth sinking into hers urgently.
Marianne felt as if she were melting, her loins hot and waxen, her whole body shimmering with pleasure. No man had ever made her feel like this. Indeed, she had rarely allowed a man to touch her, not since Daniel. Daniel’s kisses, too, had been sweet at first…
Marianne stiffened at the thought of Daniel Quartermaine. Another aristocrat with kisses and soft words—and no thought in his mind except using and abandoning her. Suddenly she realized what Lambeth was about. She jerked away from him, her hand cracking against his cheek in a resounding slap.
He stared at her, surprised, his hand going to his cheek.
“I know what you are trying to do!” she cried.
“It seems fairly obvious,” he replied dryly.
“You think that I will bed you to keep you from telling everyone I am a thief!”
His eyebrows sailed upward. “I never said—”
“You didn’t have to. As you just said, it is obvious. You accuse me of being a thief, then start to kiss me. What else would I think?”
“That your beauty distracts me from my duty.”
“Please. I am not a fool. Nor am I a whore. You are wasting your time. I won’t sleep with you, no matter how you might slander me to everyone you know.” Marianne’s eyes flashed. She had no idea what an arousing picture she made—her eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, her lips soft and moist from his kisses.
“A thief with morals, in other words.”
The faint amusement in his voice goaded her, and Marianne opened her mouth to reply hotly. But at that moment the door opened, and a middle-aged man stepped into the room. He stopped and gaped at them.
“I say.”
“Lord Batterslee.” Lambeth nodded to the older man.
Marianne’s stomach turned to ice. Now it would come. He would tell the owner of the house that he had found her going through his study, searching for something to steal. Her only hope lay in the fact that she had nothing on her that she had stolen. But the accusation of a duke’s son would be enough to bring a constable.
“Oh. Lambeth. What the devil’s going on here?”
Lambeth smiled suggestively. “Exactly what it looks like, I’m afraid. I was…ah, seeking a place of solitude to, um, convince the lady of my regard for her.”
Heat stole into Marianne’s face. He was intimating that they had sneaked off to the smoking room for a romantic interlude. She was torn between relief that he had not turned her over to the authorities and humiliation that he was blackening her reputation.
“A tryst? In my smoking room? Really, Lambeth…”
Lambeth shrugged, and his hand went pointedly to his reddened cheek. “Not a tryst, exactly. As you can see, Mrs. Cotterwood was somewhat averse to my suggestions.” He looked toward Marianne. “You needn’t turn violent, you know. A simple no would have sufficed.”
“Don’t speak to me!” The emotion in Marianne’s choked voice was real enough. She felt as if she might burst into tears at any moment from all the conflicting feelings that were tearing at her. But she also had the presence of mind to seize the opportunity to flee. Spitting out, “You cad!” to Lambeth, she rushed out the door, skirting Lord Batterslee’s rotund form. Lord Lambeth could hardly come running after her with the other man standing right there.
She ran down the hallway to the stairs, only slowing when she came in sight of the other partygoers. It would attract attention to run down the stairs in full view of everyone, but she walked as quickly as she could, her body tensed for the sound of her name or a touch on her shoulder. However, she made it to the front doors without incident, and since there were several hackney coaches in the street in the hopes of catching fares from the party, she was able to scramble into one immediately.
To her relief, the hackney set off at a smart pace. She turned and looked out the window.
