“I want to remember it.” His mouth nipped at her ear while his hands skimmed over her spine. “Perhaps you can show me tonight.”

She inhaled the crisp spring air, trying not to think of how he’d forgotten her. He hadn’t loved her then. And he didn’t love her now.

“You married me to escape Miss Hereford,” she said slowly. “I was a means to an end, not someone you wanted to wed.”

“That wasn’t the only reason, and you know it.” His fingers grasped her wrist, softly tracing a pattern over her skin. “Don’t shut me out, Emily.”

Thoughts of his carnal embrace invaded her mind. She wanted to be with him, more than anything. And yet, if she shared his bed, what if she were nothing but an evening’s entertainment?

She wanted to be more. Although he had broken her heart, she still cared for him. And one night would never be enough.

She stepped away, not even knowing the words that escaped her mouth before she picked up her skirts and fled. She ran through the gardens to the front entrance where the carriages waited.

Gravel cut into her feet as she hailed the coachman. She climbed inside the carriage, clenching her fan in a death grip. Minutes later, her maid Beatrice joined her, after a footman located her.

All through the ride home, Emily tried to harden her heart. She shouldn’t want to be a part of society, or desire to taste his world.

But when he’d danced with her alone in the garden, in that moment he’d once again become the man she had fallen in love with. Handsome, strong, and capable of fulfilling her every desire, it had taken all of her willpower to resist him.

And worse, was the knowledge that he desired her, too.

Stephen swirled the brandy in his glass, watching Lord Carstairs pour his own glass. He’d chosen his father’s study for their meeting.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Whitmore. I am glad to see you are well after everything that has happened.” Carstairs sat down, slightly agitated. “I’ve not seen you since the night you left my house.”

“I apologize for my sudden departure,” Stephen replied, watching the man for any suspicious gesture.

Carstairs shrugged. “Understandable, given the circumstances. But honestly, Whitmore, you should have waited for my men to assist you. Going after Hollingford on your own was not wise. I am surprised you lived to tell the tale.” His face turned serious. “Did he give you the list?”

Stephen wasn’t certain what list Carstairs was speaking of, but he played along. “No. I did not find it.”

“Damn. We need the names of the other investors.” Carstairs took a sip of his brandy.