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  “I WOULD HAVE YOU KNOW, MY LORD, THAT I THOUGHT YOU WERE QUITE WONDERFUL. Very cool under fire, as they say. You got us free of the mob and I assure you I shall never forget the way you handled those two footpads. For that, my thanks,” Victoria said.

  “Your thanks,” he repeated in a considering tone. “I am not certain that is sufficient reward under the circumstances.”

  “My lord?” she whispered, startled.

  “No,” he said, as if having reached a conclusion. “Your paltry thanks are not enough for what I have been through and what I undoubtedly have yet to endure.”

  Without any warning Lucas’s hands closed around her shoulders and in one smooth, swift motion he had backed her up against the garden wall.

  Victoria froze, held still by the warmth of his muscled thigh alongside hers. Her eyes widened in the moonlight as she looked up into Stonevale’s starkly etched face.

  “You are a hotheaded, reckless hoyden; a little shrew who is badly in need of taming. If I had any sense I would end this here and now,” Lucas rasped.

  Victoria licked her dry lips. “End what, my lord?”

  “This.” His mouth came down on hers with a fierce, plundering heat ….

  Bantam Books by Amanda Quick

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  Table Of Contents

  Other Books by this Author

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About the Author

  One

  Copyright

  Prologue

  The hall clock struck midnight. It was a death knell.

  The beautiful, old-fashioned, terrifyingly heavy dress that did not fit her properly because it had been made for another woman, hampered her frantic flight down the corridor. The fine wool fabric tangled itself around her legs, threatening to trip her with every desperate step. She pulled the skirts higher, higher, almost to her knees, and risked a glance back over her shoulder.

  He was closing on her, running her down the way a hound, maddened with blood lust, runs a deer to earth. His once demonically handsome face, the face that had lured an innocent, trusting woman first into marriage and then to her doom, was now a mask of fear and murderous, burning rage. With wild eyes that bulged from his head and hair that stood on end, he stalked her. The knife in his hand would soon be at her throat.

  “Demon bitch.” His shout of rage echoed down the upstairs hall. The light of a flickering taper glinted on the evil-looking blade he clutched. “You are dead. Why cannot you leave me in peace? I swear I will send you back to hell where you belong. And this time I will make certain the deed is done right. Hear me, you accursed specter. This time I will make certain.”

  She wanted to scream and could not. All she could do was run for her life.

  “I will watch your blood flow through my fingers until you are drained,” he cried out behind her, much closer. “This time you will stay dead, demon bitch. You have caused me trouble enough.”

  She was at the top of the stairs now, gasping for breath. Fear clawed at her insides. Holding the thick skirts even higher, she started down the staircase, one hand on the banister to keep herself from falling. It would be a bitter irony to die of a broken neck rather than a slashed throat.

  He was so close, so very close. She knew there was every chance she would not make it back to safety. This time she had gone too far, taken one risk too many. She had played the part of a ghost and now she was very likely to become one. He would be on top of her before she reached the bottom step.

  She had finally gotten the proof she had sought. In his rage he had confessed. If she lived, she would have justice for her poor mother. But it was fast becoming apparent that her quest would cost her her life.

  Soon she would feel his hands on her, grabbing at her in a dreadful parody of the sexual embrace he had threatened her with when she was younger. Then she would feel the knife.

  The knife.

  Dear God, the knife.

  She was halfway down the stairs when her pursuer’s hideous scream rent the shadows.

  She looked back in horror and realized that for the rest of her life, midnight would never be quite the same again. For her, midnight would mean nightmare.

  1

  Victoria Claire Huntington knew when she was being stalked. She had not reached the advanced age of twenty-four without learning to recognize the sophisticated fortune hunters of the ton. Heiresses were, after all, fair game.

  The fact that she was still single and mistress of her own sizable inheritance was proof of her skill at evading the slick, deceitful opportunists who thrived in her world. Victoria had determined long ago never to fall victim to their attractive, superficial charms.

  But Lucas Mallory Colebrook, the new Earl of Stonevale, was different. He might very well be an opportunist, but there was definitely nothing slick or superficial about him. Amid the brightly plumed birds of the ton, this man was a hawk.

  Victoria was beginning to wonder if the very qualities that should have warned her off, the underlying strength and the implacable will she sensed in Stonevale, were exactly what had drawn her to him. There was no denying she had been fascinated by the man since they had been introduced less than an hour ago. The attraction she felt was deeply disturbing. In fact, it was quite dangerous.

  “I believe I have won again, my lord.” Victoria lowered her elegantly gloved hand and fanned her cards out across the green baize table. She smiled her most dazzling smile at her opponent.

  “Congratulations, Miss Huntington. Your luck is certainly running strong this evening.” Stonevale, whose gray eyes made Victoria think of ghosts hovering in the dead of night, did not look in the least dismayed at his loss. He appeared, in fact, quietly satisfied, as if a carefully devised plan had just come to fruition. There was a sense of cool anticipation about him.

  “Yes, my luck has been amazingly strong tonight, has it not?” Victoria murmured. “One might almost suspect it had some assistance.”

  “I refuse to contemplate such a possibility. I cannot allow you to impugn your own honor, Miss Huntington.”

  “Very gallant of you, my lord. But it was not my honor which concerned me. I assure you I am well aware that I was not cheating.” Victoria held her breath, knowing she had stepped out onto very thin ice with that remark. She had practically accused the earl of playing with marked cards in order to ensure her win.

  Stonevale’s eyes met and held hers across the table. His expression was unnervingly calm. Frighteningly calm, Victoria thought with a small shiver. There should have been some flicker of emotion in that cool, gray gaze. But she could read nothing in his face except a certain watchfulness.

  “Would you c
are to clarify that remark, Miss Huntington?”

  Victoria quickly decided to step back onto more solid ground. “Pray, pay me no heed, my lord. It is simply that I am as astounded as you should be at my luck with cards this evening. I am only an indifferent player at best. You, on the other hand, have a reputation as a skilled gamester, or so I have been told.”

  “You flatter me, Miss Huntington.”

  “I don’t believe so,” Victoria said. “I have heard tales of the ability you display at the tables of White’s and Brooks’s as well as at certain other clubs here in town that are of a, shall we say, less reputable nature.”

  “Greatly embroidered tales, I imagine. But you make me curious. As we have only just met, where did you hear such stories?”

  She could hardly admit she had asked her friend Annabella Lyndwood about him the moment he entered the ballroom two hours before. “I am certain you are aware of how such rumors fly, my lord.”

  “Indeed. But a woman of your obvious intelligence should know better than to listen to gossip.” With a smooth, effortless motion Stonevale gathered up the cards into a neat stack. He rested his graceful, long-fingered hand on top of the deck and smiled coolly at Victoria. “Now, Miss Huntington, have you given any thought to collecting your winnings?”

  Victoria watched him warily, unable to repress the excitement that was bubbling within her. If she had any sense, she would end this here and now, she told herself. But tonight it was difficult to think with the sort of cold, clear logic she usually employed in such circumstances. She had never met anyone quite like Stonevale.

  The hum of conversation and laughter in Lady Atherton’s card room receded, and the music from the ballroom seemed faint and distant now. The Athertons’ huge London house was filled with well-dressed members of the ton as well as countless servants, but Victoria suddenly felt as if she were completely alone with the earl.

  “My winnings,” Victoria repeated slowly, trying to school her thoughts. “Yes, I shall have to do something about them, won’t I?”

  “I believe the wager was for a favor, was it not? As the winner, you are entitled to request one of me. I am at your service.”

  “As it happens, sir, I do not need any favors from you at the moment.”

  “Are you quite certain of that?”

  She was startled by the knowing expression in the earl’s eyes. This was a man who always knew more than he ought. “Quite.”

  “I fear I must contradict you, Miss Huntington. I believe you do need a favor of me. I am given to understand that you will require an escort later this evening when you and Miss Lyndwood have your little adventure at the fair.”

  Victoria went very still. “What do you know of that?”

  Stonevale gently riffled the cards with one long finger. “Lyndwood and I are friends. Belong to the same clubs. Play cards together occasionally. You know how it is.”

  “Lord Lyndwood? Annabella’s brother? You’ve been talking to him?”

  “Yes.”

  Victoria was incensed. “He promised to be our escort this evening and he gave us his word he would keep quiet on the matter. How dare he discuss this business with his cronies? This is too much by half. And men have the nerve to accuse women of gossiping. What an outrage.”

  “You must not be so hard on the man, Miss Huntington.”

  “What did Lyndwood do? Make a general announcement at one of his clubs that he would be taking his sister and her friend to the fair?”

  “It was not a general announcement, I assure you. He was most discreet. After all, his sister is involved, is she not? If you must know the truth, I believe Lyndwood confided in me because he was feeling the strain of the situation.”

  “Strain? What strain? There is absolutely nothing about any of this that should make him anxious. He is simply going to escort Annabella and me to the park where the fair is being held. What could be simpler?” she snapped.

  “As I understand it, you and his sister applied a certain degree of pressure on Lyndwood to get him to agree to your plans. The poor boy is still green enough to be manipulated by such feminine tactics. Fortunately, he is also wise enough to regret his weakness and smart enough to seek assistance.”

  “Poor boy, indeed. What nonsense. You make it sound as though Annabella and I coerced Bertie into this.”

  “Didn’t you?” Stonevale shot back.

  “Of course not. We merely impressed upon him that we have every intention of going to the fair tonight and he insisted on accompanying us. Very gallant of him. Or so we thought.”

  “You left him little choice as a gentleman. He could hardly agree to let you go on your own and you knew it. It was blackmail. Furthermore, I suspect it was largely your idea, Miss Huntington.”

  “Blackmail.” Victoria was now furious. “I resent that accusation, my lord.”

  “Why? It is little more than the truth. Do you think Lyndwood would have willingly consented to escort you and his sister to such a disreputable event unless you threatened to go on your own? Miss Lyndwood’s mama would have a fit of the vapors if she got word of this little escapade tonight, and so, I imagine, would your aunt.”

  “I assure you, Aunt Cleo is far too sturdy to indulge in a fit of the vapors,” Victoria declared loyally. But she knew Stonevale was perfectly correct about Annabella’s mama. Lady Lyndwood would indeed have hysterics if she discovered her daughter’s plans for this evening. Proper young ladies of the ton did not go to the fairgrounds at night.

  “Your aunt may be a sturdy character. I will take your word for it, as I have not yet had the honor of meeting Lady Nettleship. But I sincerely doubt she would approve of your plans for this evening,” Stonevale said.

  “I shall throttle Lord Lyndwood when I see him. He is no gentleman to have betrayed a confidence in this manner.”

  “It was not entirely his fault he confided in me. I spent enough years as an officer to know when a young man is agitated about something. It was not that difficult to press him for the details.”

  Victoria narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “Let us say I had a great curiosity about the matter. When Lyndwood discovered I was only too happy to come to his assistance tonight, he confessed all and pleaded for a companion.”

  “You have not answered my question. Why was your curiosity so great?”

  “My reasons are not particularly important,” Stonevale’s long fingers rippled easily through the deck of cards again. “It seems to me we have a more immediate problem.”

  “I see no problem.” Other than getting rid of you, Victoria added silently. Her first instincts had been correct. She should have run when she had the chance. But it was beginning to appear as though she’d never had the opportunity in the first place. Everything suddenly seemed to be proceeding according to some master plan that had been set in motion and over which she had less and less control.

  “We should go over the details of the evening’s adventure, don’t you think?”

  “The details have already been taken care of, thank you.” Victoria did not like the feeling of not being in charge.

  “Please understand. Perhaps it is the ex-soldier in me or perhaps it is mere curiosity, but I like to know exactly what is involved in a venture before it begins. Would you be so good as to outline the schedule of events more clearly for me?” Stonevale asked innocently.

  “I do not see why I should. I did not invite you along.”

  “I merely wish to be of assistance, Miss Huntington. Not only is Lyndwood grateful for my help tonight, but you, yourself, might also find it very convenient to have an extra escort on hand. The mob can become very boisterous and rowdy at night.”

  “I’m not in the least concerned with the rowdy crowds. That is part of what will make the entire venture exciting.”

  “Then I’m sure you will at least be grateful for my continued silence on the matter should I happen to be introduced to your aunt this evening.”

  Victoria studied him mutely fo
r a short, taut moment. “It would seem that Lord Lyndwood is not the only one in danger of being blackmailed. It appears I am also slated to become a victim.”

  “You wound me, Miss Huntington.”

  “Not fatally, unfortunately, else I would be rid of my problem, wouldn’t I?”

  “I urge you to look upon me as a solution rather than a problem.” Stonevale smiled his slow smile. It did not affect the ghosts in his eyes. “I ask only to serve you in the capacity of escort this evening when you venture out into the dangerous streets of the city. I am most anxious to discharge my gaming debt.”

  “And if I decline to collect my winnings by accepting your escort, you will tell my aunt what is planned, is that it?”

  Stonevale sighed. “It would be most unpleasant for all concerned if Miss Lyndwood’s mama or your aunt discovered your scheme for tonight, but one can never tell what topics of conversation will arise in the course of an evening, can one?”

  Victoria snapped her closed fan against the table. “I knew it. This is blackmail.”

  “A nasty word for it, but, yes, I suppose in a manner of speaking, it is blackmail.”

  Fortune hunter. That was the only explanation. She had never before encountered one quite so bold and aggressive. The type generally tended to be extremely well mannered and gracious, at least initially. But Victoria trusted her instincts. She locked eyes with Stonevale for an instant, fascinated by the waiting, expectant gleam in his hard, gray gaze. When she started to rise from the card table, the earl got to his feet to assist her.

  “I shall look forward to seeing you later this evening,” he murmured in her ear as she rose.

  “If you are fishing for a fortune, my lord,” Victoria drawled, “cast your lures elsewhere. You are wasting your time with me. I will grant that your technique is a novel one, but I do not find it at all attractive. I assure you, I have resisted far more agreeable bait.”

  “So I have been told.”

  He paced beside her as they moved into the glittering, crowded ballroom. Victoria became aware again, as she had earlier, of Stonevale’s curiously balanced, but uneven stride. The elegant black evening clothes, finely tied cravat, close-fitting breeches, and polished boots did not disguise the limp that marred the movement of his left leg.