A Perilous Attraction. Patricia Rowell Frances

her elbows on the window ledge, chin on hand. She had friends who would take her in, but having been an unwelcome addition to one household, she did not relish the idea of repeating that experience. Could she possibly find gainful employment? For a gently bred young woman it would prove almost impossible. So…what?

      A tentative tap sounded at her door, followed by the voice of her uncle’s footman. “Miss Catherine, are you ‘in’?”

      “Not now.” In no frame of mind for visitors, she turned on the stool to face the door. “I do not wish to be disturbed.”

      “The Earl of Caldbeck is below stairs, miss. He requests a few minutes of your time.”

      “I said no! Tell him I cannot see him now.” Hearing the retreating footsteps of the servant, Catherine returned to staring out the window. Caldbeck himself—the last person she wished to see at that moment. Heaven help her, what could she do? Her thoughts simply would not come to order.

      Reluctantly she considered Lord Caldbeck. She found nothing objectionable in his person—quite the opposite, in fact. Tall and elegantly slender, but with shoulders whose width owed nothing to his tailor, he might be very attractive were he not so cold. She could do worse.

      But she had been determined for so long to avoid marriage. For one thing, Catherine had learned the hard way not to trust anyone but herself to take care of her, and a husband, by law, would have so much power, so much control over her.

      Giving up her longed-for independence would be a bitter pill to swallow, but it was already lost. Her money was gone. Swallow she must. But the other thing, the bigger thing…So much more important; the loss of the decision so much harder to accept.

      And so tempting to accept.

      Children. Marriage meant children, and nothing stirred her heart as a child did. It fell within her reach at this moment to allow herself her dearest, most secret wish—a family of her own, a home of her own, children on which she could lavish the love and attention she had lacked since she was twelve years old.

      But children were so appallingly vulnerable!

      Catherine sighed. She could not take the risk. She’d long ago made up her mind to that, though it tore her very soul. Now, if she accepted Caldbeck, that wonderful, terrifying possibility again became a reality. But if something happened to her…If her children were left alone in the world as she had been, as the waifs she befriended were…The very thought brought tears to her eyes.

      She dashed them away. She must think. Could she possibly live with someone like the reticent earl? Her emotions were always evident and vigorous. Surely a man so reserved would stifle her, try to restrain her, want her to be a docile and efficient wife. Could she change her nature enough ever to be that? Very unlikely—not for anyone. They would both be mad with aggravation within six months!

      A half-smile touched her lips. Caldbeck obviously did not know what he had bargained for. What a shock he would get if she did accept him. He might find this a marriage of inconvenience. It would serve him right, thinking he could buy her.

      At that moment a firmer knock rattled the door panels. Annoyed, she glared at the door.

      “I told you, I am not to be disturbed.”

      “It is I, Caldbeck. I would like to speak with you.”

      Catherine sat silent for a startled moment. Good heavens, the man stood at her door! How dare he? What in the world could she say to him? She couldn’t talk now. She needed more time. Time to think…

      “I do not wish to talk now. Come back tomorrow.” As soon as she spoke the words, Catherine realized that she might not be in that house tomorrow. She no longer lived here. Already she heard the sounds of packing and the preparations to close the mansion. She began to feel a bit panicky.

      “I believe it would be of benefit for us to talk now.” The voice on the other side of the door was flat, without inflection. Catherine heard not a smidgen of persuasion in it. How could he sound so…so unfeeling at a time like this? Had the man no sensibility at all?

      “Of benefit to whom? You are trying to buy me. Go away!” She turned her back and resumed staring at the street.

      An instant later, with a thunderous crash, the door flew open.

      Catherine leapt to her feet. Strangling on a scream, she spun to face this new menace. She beheld Lord Caldbeck, his tall frame filling the doorway. As she watched with frightened eyes, one hand pressed against her mouth, he straightened his dove-gray coat and tugged his snowy shirtsleeves into position.

      Catherine stood frozen in place, for once in her life speechless. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth, and her heart pounded in her ears. Caldbeck pushed the door shut, and after a cursory inspection of the broken latch, nudged a dainty boudoir chair in front of it to hold it closed.

      He then turned to her and bowed politely.

      “Miss Maury.”

      Catherine nodded silently as he crossed the room to stand a few feet from her. She looked up into an impassive face dominated by ice-gray eyes. The mouth did not smile. The once raven-black hair brushed severely back from the face was now so liberally streaked with gray that it shone the color of gunmetal. Catherine swallowed, trying in vain to think of something to say.

      Running footsteps in the hall mingled with alarmed voices.

      “Miss Catherine, are you all right?”

      “What the devil is going on here?” Her uncle shoved past the footman, pushing the chair out of the way to stick his head into the room. “Oh. Caldbeck. I see you found my niece. Did you make that confounded racket?”

      Lord Caldbeck nodded wordlessly at the door. Maury examined the broken wood and scowled. “I told you she would be unreasonable, but couldn’t you find some way of gaining admittance without destroying my door?”

      Caldbeck sent him a level stare. “I believe the door is now my property.”

      Maury flushed. “Yes, of course.” Then, with a sneer, “Very well, we shall cease disturbing your visit with your bride.” His glance took in the clothes scattered around the room. “You certainly have not wasted any time.”

      He jerked his head at the footman, and they both departed, the servant covering a grin with one hand. Caldbeck replaced the small chair holding the door and returned to Catherine.

      Catherine felt the wave of heat creeping up from her breasts to the roots of her hair. Great heavens! She stood before his lordship in nothing but her shift!

      How could she have forgotten that rather significant fact? What must Lord Caldbeck be seeing, with the light from the window behind her shining through the sheer linen? And what must he be thinking of her? Catherine started to cover herself with her hands, realized the futility of that measure, and was about to turn her back to Caldbeck when his voice arrested her.

      “It doesn’t matter. His opinion is no longer important.”

      The blush deepened. Catherine, knowing her milk-white complexion, inwardly cursed it. Her face must be absolutely crimson! And she could not fathom the least clue to his thoughts. Even though he had kicked the door in, neither his face nor his voice betrayed any sign of ardor or anger. His eyes gleamed as cool and gray as ever. Stabbed again by fear, she wanted to turn and run, but her pride would not let her.

      She decided instead to muster what dignity she might.

      Catherine lifted her chin and drew herself up, her face a haughty mask. “Well, my lord? What is it that you are so eager to discuss?”

      “The conditions of our marriage.”

      “I thought that you and my uncle had already made those arrangements.” Catherine’s voice dripped acid. “That the two of you had completed the terms of sale.”

      Caldbeck raised one eyebrow a hair’s breadth. “I am sorry to hear that you view the contract in that light.”

      He