A Rogues Proposal

arrive to take over. At present, I have matters of greater moment to settle.'

She blinked. 'You do?'

His jaw set ominously. 'I need to speak with the General.'

Flick felt her eyes, locked on his, widen. 'What about?' She had no idea why, but she was starting to feel uneasy.

Demon saw her question-her lack of understanding-etched in her eyes. Inwardly, he cursed. 'I need to talk to him about our current situation.'

'Situation? What situation?'

Jaw clenching, he went to step around her; quick as a flash, she blocked his way. 'What are you talking about?'

He caught her eye and frowned even more. 'I'm talking about the past night, which we spent together, alone.' He gave the last two words particular weight; comprehension dawned in her eyes.

Then she blinked and frowned at him. 'So?' Her gaze raced over his face. 'Nothing-nothing indiscreet-happened.'

'No,' he agreed, his voice tight, controlled, 'but only you and I know that. All society will see is that the potential for indiscretion was present, and that, in society's eyes, is all that counts.'

The sound she made was elementally dismissive. His eyes locked on hers, Demon knew that if she questioned the potential, denied it had existed, he'd wring her neck.

She hovered on the brink-he saw it in her eyes. But, after studying his expression, she swung onto a different tack. 'But no one knows. Well'-she waved-'only Dunstable, and he didn't imagine anything scandalous had happened.'

Stunned, he stared at her. 'Tell me, is Dunstable always so stony-faced?'

She grimaced. 'Well, he is rather taciturn. I always do most of the talking.'

'If you'd done a little more looking this morning, you'd have seen he was shocked to his toes.' Again, he went to step past her; again, she blocked his way.

'What are you going to do?'

He didn't want to lay hands on her-didn't want to risk it in his present state. He pinned her with a glare. 'I am going to speak to the General, and explain to him exactly what occurred.'

'You're not going to tell him about Dillon?'

'No. I'll simply say I came upon you riding alone through my fields late last night, and insisted on escorting you home.' He took a step toward her; to keep his face in clear view, she backed away. 'I'll leave it to you to explain what you were doing in your saddle at midnight.'

She blinked; he pressed his advantage and took another step. She gave ground without noticing. Her eyes, now wide, flicked up to his; before she could interrupt, he stated, 'The General will see instantly that, regardless of what truly transpired at the cottage, all society-certainly every matron of standing in Newmarket-will believe you and I spent the best part of the night heating a single pallet in the charcoal makers' hut.'

A light blush tinged her cheeks; her gaze flickered, then steadied. Abruptly, she stood her ground. 'That's ridiculous.' The statement was emphatic. 'You didn't lay a finger…' Her words trailed away; her gaze blanked.

'On you?' Demon grinned tightly. 'Not one-all ten.' He trapped her gaze as she refocused. 'Can you deny you were in my arms?'

Her lips compressed, her expression turned mutinous, her chin set like rock. Her eyes-those usually soft orbs-positively flared. 'That was because of a mouse!'

'The cause is irrelevant. As far as society's concerned, having spent the night alone with me, your virtue and reputation are in question. The accepted code of behavior decrees I offer you the protection of my name.'

Flick stared at him, then determinedly shook her head. 'No.'

He looked down at her, and coolly raised his brows. 'No?'

'No, that's positively stupid.' Flinging her hands in the air, she swung away. 'You're blowing this up out of all proportion. Society's not going to say anything because they'll know nothing about it. Dunstable won't talk.' Swinging about, she paced back. 'I'll see him and explain-' Lifting her head, she saw Demon almost at the door. 'No! Wait!'

She raced across the room. She would have caught him, but he turned and caught her instead. His hands about her upper arms, he held her away from him. And glared at her.

'There's no point arguing-I'm going to see the General.'

His determination was blazoned in his eyes; Flick couldn't mistake it. Her mind raced; she licked her lips. 'He'll be at breakfast.' Dragging her gaze from his, she sent it skimming down, over his rumpled clothes.

He looked down, too, then frowned; extending one leg, he scowled at the muddy streaks marring his Hessians. And swore. Releasing her, he took stock of his disreputable state. 'I can't go in to see him like this.'

Flick kept her eyes wide and innocent, and held her tongue. Even when-especially when-his gaze, hard and blue, returned to her face.

After a moment, lips compressed, he nodded. 'I'll go home and change-then I'll be back.' Eyes narrowing, he held her gaze. 'And then we can discuss this fully-with the General.'

She merely raised her brows and maintained a strategic silence.

He hesitated, looking into her eyes, then, with a curt nod, turned and stalked out.

Flick watched him go, drifting back to the French doors to watch him stride across the lawn. Only when he'd disappeared into the shadows of the trees did she turn back into the room-grit her teeth, clench her fists, and give vent to a frustrated scream.

'He's impossible! This is impossible.' After a moment, her eyes darkened. 'He's out of his mind.'

With that, she stalked off to clear the matter up.

Two hours later, Demon drove his bays up the drive of Hillgate End. Under his expert guidance, the curricle came to a flourishing halt immediately before the steps. Handing the reins to the groom who came running, he stepped down. Drawing off his gloves, he strode to the house.

He was perfectly attired in a blue morning coat and ivory breeches, ivory cravat and shirt, with an elegantly restrained blue-and-black-striped waistcoat. His Hessians, another pair, gleamed. His appearance was precisely as he considered it should be, given his errand.

Jacobs opened the door to his knock. Demon returned his greeting with a nod and headed straight for the library. He was somewhat surprised to gain the door without encountering Flick; he'd expected some last-ditch effort on her part to interfere with his plans-his immolation on the altar of the right and proper.

Turning the handle, he opened the door and entered, swiftly scanning the long room for any sign of an angel.

She wasn't there.

The General was, seated as usual at his desk, and sunk behind a huge tome. He looked up as Demon closed the door-and smiled warmly, delightedly.

Demon strolled nearer and saw his mentor's eyes twinkling. Inwardly, he cursed.

The General held up a hand before he could speak. 'I know,' he declared, 'all about it.'

Demon came to a dead halt facing the desk. 'Flick.' His tone was flat. His left hand slowly clenched.

'Eh? Oh, yes-Felicity.' The General grinned and leaned back in his chair, waving him to the chair beside the desk. Although Demon moved in that direction, he couldn't sit-he prowled to the window beyond.

The General chuckled. 'You needn't worry. A potential imbroglio it might have been, but Felicity took the bit between her teeth and sorted it all out.'

'I see.' His features under rigid control, his expression utterly bland, Demon turned his head and raised a brow. 'How very helpful of her.' Even to him, his tones sounded steely. 'How did she manage it?'

'Well-;' If the General was aware of his tension, he didn't show it; he pushed his chair back the better to beam up at him. 'She came straightaway to me, of course, and explained what happened-how she'd felt the need of some air and so gone riding late last night, and forgot the time, and wound up past your farm.' The General's smug expression clouded. 'Have to say, m'boy, I'm not at all sanguine about her riding off like that alone, but she's