“Humph.” Patrick rolled one of his legs over on top of Sophie’s. She turned even pinker. “I think he was giving me a chance to get out of here,” Patrick said.

“Oh!” Sophie gasped. The blood was rushing to her head.

Patrick shifted his weight and suddenly every nerve in her body was clamoring. He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers, but at that moment there was a scraping noise and the top of the ladder bobbed, fell back against the house once, then silently swung away into the air.

“Alas,” Patrick murmured against Sophie’s lips. “Discovery appears to be imminent.”

Sophie didn’t reply. Her hands were discovering the smooth planes of Patrick’s back as his mouth plunged and took, sending a stroking heat down all her trembling limbs.

Reluctantly Patrick pulled away and sat up, running his hands through his hair. “My love, I had better be off.” He looked down at Sophie, who lay quietly. Slowly he reached out and rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said huskily.

A smile flickered on Sophie’s lips. “When I refused to marry you, last month, you looked profoundly relieved.”

“Really?” Patrick laughed. “I felt rather piqued, if the truth be known.”

“Oh.” Sophie nodded. That explained why Patrick had come up the ladder instead of Braddon. She didn’t quite like the idea of her future being decided due to a childish rivalry between two men, but she felt too happy at the moment to worry about it.

“So why did you reject me?” Patrick asked.

A shadow passed Sophie’s eyes. “It wasn’t you, my lord.” A blush mounted in her cheeks. “I was quite—well,” she shifted direction quickly, “I just wasn’t thinking about the way the world is. I thought … I don’t know what I thought.” She started once again. “I was being very cowardly, I realize that.”

Patrick was pulling on his breeches and shirt, but he turned and looked at Sophie in surprise. Cowardly? Just as he opened his mouth, she asked a question.

“How are you going to leave? I think the ladder is gone.”

“Down the front stairs, naturally.” Patrick’s face took on a momentary hauteur lent to him by generations of aristocratic ancestors. “I should be very surprised if your butler questioned my presence in the house.”

“Where do you suppose my parents went?”

“I expect your father will direct the coachman to drive out the post road for a time, then order the horses home again.” Patrick’s voice was muffled for a moment as he cast the great cloak over his head. “You should expect a good deal of conversation in the morning, sweetheart. I think your mother will be particularly annoyed with your father.”

“She’s frequently annoyed with him,” Sophie observed.

Patrick cast her an inquiring glance.