“You’re a peach.” Violet smiled tremulously from the bed. “But he’s said he will have to reveal all if I don’t become his bride.”

“Ah.” If she ever got her hands on the blackmailing bastard . . . “Then I think you will really have to tell me his name, sweetheart. I know”—she held up her hand as Violet started to protest—“but it’s the only way.”

“What will you do?” her sister asked in a small voice.

George met her eyes. “We’ll have to tell Tony who he is so Tony can convince him that you aren’t interested in marriage.”

“But Tony, George?” Violet flung her arms wide across the bed, unconsciously taking the position of a martyr. “You know the way he inspects one so coldly down his nose. It makes me feel like a worm. A squashed worm.”

“Yes, dear, I am aware of his look,” George said. “I was the recipient of it just this morning, thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Violet looked contrite before reverting to her own dilemma. “Tony will make me marry him!”

“No, you’re maligning Tony, now,” George said. “He may have lost all sense of humor since he assumed the title, but that doesn’t mean he’ll force a marriage on a sister, especially his fifteen-year-old sister.”

“Even though I’ve—”

“Even though.” George smiled. “Think how useful Tony will be when he convinces this gentleman. Really, it is the only advantage I can think of to having an earl for a brother.”

THAT NIGHT GEORGE SHIVERED and pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her face. It was late, almost midnight, and Harry’s cottage was dark. Perhaps he had already retired for the evening? At any other time, for any other reason, she would’ve turned around. But this compulsion drove her on. She had to see him again. Except it wasn’t to see him that she’d come here so late in the evening, was it? She felt a blush start high on her cheekbones. She wanted to do more, much more, than see Harry Pye. And she didn’t want to examine too closely the reasons behind that urge.

She knocked at his door.

It swung open almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting for her. “My lady.” His green eyes were heavy.

Harry’s chest was bare, and her gaze was drawn to it. “I hope you don’t mind,” she began vapidly, addressing his left nipple.