Lillian reflected that there were few women who would ever be foolhardy enough to think that they could manage this arrogant, bullheaded creature. She feared that she might be one of them. She shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “Do try to keep from interrupting, will you?” she asked smartly, and turned her back to him.

Maintaining a nonchalant facade, St. Vincent half sat on the desk. Lillian frowned pensively, wanting very much to make him understand that she had not intentionally deceived him. “My lord, please forgive me. I didn’t intend—”

“Sweet, there’s no need for an apology.” St. Vincent studied her with a lazy thoroughness that seemed to un-earth her private thoughts. “You did nothing wrong. I know well enough how easy it is to seduce an innocent.” After a skillful pause, he added blandly, “Apparently Westcliff does too.”

“See here—” Marcus began, bristling.

“This is what happens when I try to be a gentleman,” St. Vincent interrupted. He reached out to touch a long lock of Lillian’s hair as it streamed over her shoulder. “Had I resorted to my usual tactics, I’d have seduced you ten times over by now, and you would be mine. But it seems I placed too much confidence in Westcliff’s much-vaunted sense of honor.”

“It was no more his fault than mine,” Lillian said, determined to be honest. She saw from his expression, however, that he did not believe her.

Rather than dispute the point, St. Vincent released the lock of hair and spoke with his head inclined toward hers. “Love, what if I were to tell you that I still want you, regardless of what may have occurred between you and Westcliff?”

She could not hide her astonishment at the question.

Behind her, it seemed that Marcus could hold his silence no longer, his voice crackling with annoyance. “What you desire is irrelevant, St. Vincent. The fact of the matter is that she’s mine now.”

“By virtue of an essentially meaningless act?” St. Vincent countered coolly.

“My lord,” Lillian said to St. Vincent, “it…it was not meaningless to me. And it is possible that there might be consequences. I could not marry one man while carrying another’s child.”

“My love, it is done all the time. I would accept the child as mine.”

“I can’t listen to much more of this,” came Marcus’s warning growl.

Ignoring him, Lillian stared at St. Vincent in open apology. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry. The die has been cast, my lord, and I can do nothing to reverse it. But…” She reached out impulsively and gave him her hand. “But in spite of what has happened, I hope that I will be counted among your friends.”

With a curious smile, St. Vincent gripped her hand warmly before releasing it. “There is only one circumstance in which I can imagine refusing you anything, sweet …and this is not it. Of course I will stand your friend.” Looking over her head, he met Westcliff’s gaze with a dark smile that promised the matter was not yet finished. “I don’t believe that I will stay for the remainder of the house party,” he said blandly. “Though I should not like for my precipitate departure to cause any gossip, I’m not certain that I will adequately be able to conceal my, er…disappointment, and therefore it is probably best that I leave. No doubt we’ll have much to discuss when next we meet.”

Marcus watched with narrowed eyes as the other man departed, closing the door behind him.

In the smoldering silence that followed, Marcus brooded over St. Vincent’s comments. “Only one circumstance in which he would refuse you…what does that mean?”

Lillian rounded on him with a furious scowl. “I don’t know and I don’t care! You have behaved abominably, and St. Vincent is ten times the gentleman you are!”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew anything about him.”

“I know that he has treated me with respect, whereas you regard me as some kind of pawn to be pushed this way and that—” She thumped both of her fists hard on his chest as he took her in his arms.

“You wouldn’t be happy with him,” Marcus said, disregarding her struggles as easily as if she were a writhing cat he had caught by the scruff of the neck. The coat he had placed around her shoulders fell to the floor.

“What makes you think I would be any better off with you?”

He clamped his hands around her wrists, and twisted her arms behind her back, giving a grunt of surprise as she stomped hard on his instep. “Because you need me,” he said, drawing in his breath as she squirmed against him. “Just as I need you.” He crushed his mouth on hers. “I’ve needed you for years.” Another kiss, this one deep and drugging, his tongue searching her intimately.

She might have continued to grapple with him had he not done something that surprised her. He released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close in a warm, tender embrace. Caught off-guard, she went still, her heart thumping madly.

“It wasn’t a meaningless act for me either,” Marcus said, his raspy whisper tickling her ear. “Yesterday I finally realized that all the things I thought were wrong about you were actually the things I enjoyed most. I don’t give a damn what you do, so long as it pleases you. Run barefoot on the front lawn. Eat pudding with your fingers. Tell me to go to hell as often as you like. I want you just as you are. After all, you’re the only woman aside from my sisters who has ever dared to tell me to my face that I’m an arrogant ass. How could I resist you?” His mouth moved to the soft cushion of her cheek. “My dearest Lillian,” he whispered, easing her head back to kiss her eyelids. “If I had the gift of poetry, I would shower you with sonnets. But words have always been difficult for me when my feelings are strongest. And there is one word in particular that I can’t bring myself to say to you…‘goodbye.’ I couldn’t bear the sight of you walking away from me. If you won’t marry me for the sake of your own honor, then do it for the sake of everyone who would have to tolerate me otherwise. Marry me because I need someone who will help me to laugh at myself. Because someone has to teach me how to whistle. Marry me, Lillian…because I have the most irresistible fascination for your ears.”