“Which are?” The words shot from her throat, and she nearly choked on them. Her hands shook, and she crossed her arms over her middle and tucked them beneath her elbows to keep him from noticing. Two conditions? She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course there would be two. Not just one. Though she supposed she ought to be happy he hadn’t said three.

He nodded efficiently. “First, after Christmastide at Whitmore Manor, you must return here, to London, and attend the Hazeltons’ Twelfth Night ball with me. Also pretending that we are not estranged.”

“Done,” she said so quickly his eyebrow quirked again. That wasn’t so bad. Attending the Hazeltons’ ball would be a small price to pay for Grandpapa’s happiness. “What is the second condition?” she asked hastily.

When a slow, triumphant smile spread across his lips, revealing his perfectly straight teeth, she knew the second condition would be much less simple to grant.

He moved toward her, stopping mere steps away, and she could smell the scent of his cologne. The same cologne that used to make her weak in the knees. Blast it. The same cologne that apparently still made her weak in the knees because she had to brace a hand on the chest of drawers that sat next to the doorway to prepare herself for his next words.

His eyes bore into her. “You cannot be ignorant of the fact that our, ahem, estrangement has prevented me from doing my duty. I need an heir.”

The room spun. Veronica’s breath came in small pants. Her chest ached. Her nipples turned to hard buds. “What are you saying, Sebastian?” But she already knew. She already knew exactly what he was about to say. And God help her, she wanted him to say it. Craved it, actually.

“In addition to the Twelfth Night ball, I will travel with you and play the part of the doting husband in exchange for your willing participation the entire time…” He paused, and his smoldering gaze captured hers once more. “In bed.”

Chapter Four

Three days later, Sebastian sat across from Veronica in his well-appointed traveling coach as they made their way from Edgefield Hall toward Whitmore Manor. The journey would take the better part of the day, even with Sebastian’s finest horses at the start. Their coach and the second one carrying the servants would arrive at Whitmore Manor in the late afternoon.

Veronica had agreed to Sebastian’s second condition in London with much less resistance than he’d expected. Her face had flushed, and she’d been uncharacteristically silent for several moments, but she’d finally jerked her head in a decisive nod and said, “Very well. I agree to your terms,” as if they’d just set out a marriage contract giving her rights to an allowance and not agreed to spend the next fortnight together wrapped in bedsheets. Perhaps he should have asked for her attendance at two balls when they returned to London. He smiled to himself. Probably best not to press his good fortune.