Braddon was confused and his lower lip opened a trifle. It was hard to keep his mind straight when Madeleine was standing right before him, her lovely chest heaving. She had such luscious hips….

“Bamboozle! That’s what you mean.”

“That’s what I said,” Madeleine retorted impatiently. What was she to do with this muffin-brained lord? How could she do an honest day’s work with him following her about the stables, gaping at her bosom and generally cutting up her peace?

Braddon’s muffin-brain worked perfectly well in some situations. He yanked Madeleine into his arms so fast that she didn’t have time to shout for her father before Braddon’s mouth descended. And he kissed her while backing out of Gracie’s stall, thereby proving that he could do two things at once, a skill which several of his friends might have disputed.

Despite herself, Madeleine relaxed. Life had been so hard the last years. It was heaven to stand in the circle of Braddon’s arms. When he held her, it felt as if nothing evil would ever happen again.

She shook herself briskly, pushing hard at Braddon’s chest. He was whispering something in her ear—one of his fancy promises, no doubt. She got the main idea. Her bacon-brained suitor wasn’t a real suitor at all. He was what her mama, back in France, would have called a libertin. He wanted to ruin her and not marry her.

Braddon’s arms went around her shoulders again.

“Don’t look so sad, Madeleine.” He whispered that, but she heard it loud and clear. “I hate it when you look so sad.”

Perplexed, Madeleine paused for a moment, looking into Braddon’s blue eyes.

“I am not sad,” she said. “I only thought of my mother for a moment.”

“You looked sad,” Braddon persisted.

“I miss her,” Madeleine said despite herself. She didn’t want to share any emotional confidences with her immoral suitor.

Braddon kissed her ear. “Someday you will be a mother, Madeleine. You will have your own children, and then you will forget.”

Madeleine took a deep breath.

“Not if you have your way,” she pointed out. “You want to turn me into a courtesan, and those women never have children. They cannot afford them, given their way of life.”

Braddon grinned. Trust Madeleine’s hardheaded French common sense to point out that unusual disadvantage in the life of a courtesan.

“We’re going to have children,” he said confidently. “I knew we would as soon as I saw you. I never wanted little brats around, until I met you.”