A Rogues Proposal

very thoroughly compromised this time. You have no choice-'

'On the contrary.' She held his gaze. 'I can still say no.'

Demon stared at her, then narrowed his eyes. 'Why would you want to say no?'

'I have my reasons.'

'Which are?'

She considered him, then said, 'I told you I needed something more than mere circumstance to persuade me to marriage. What you did last night wasn't it.'

He frowned, then shook his head, his expression turning grim. 'Let me rephrase my intention. I'll tell the General what I said before, then, if you still won't agree to our marriage, I'll tell him the rest-how I spent all night in your bed-and half the night in you.'

She raised her brows, considered him steadily, then looked away. 'You know you'll never tell him that.'

Demon stared at her, at her pure profile, at her chin resolutely firm, her nose tip-tilted-and fought down the urge to lay his hands on her.

She was right, of course-he would never do anything to harm her standing with the General, one of the few people she cared about. The General would very likely understand why he'd acted as he had, but he wouldn't understand her refusal. Any more than he did.

Forcing himself to relax, he sank back against the seat and stared out of the window. The horses clopped on.

'What story did you concoct for the household to explain your trip to Bury?' He asked the question without looking at Flick; he felt her glance, then she answered.

'That I was going to see Melissa Blackthorn-her family lives just past Bury. We often visit on the spur of the moment.'

Demon considered. 'Very well. You intended visiting Miss Blackthorn-Gillies offered to drive you in the hope of seeing the fight, but when you reached Bury, the street was blocked with incoming traffic and you got trapped in the melee. It got dark-you were still trapped. Not being au fait with prizefights, you sought refuge at The Angel.' He glanced at Flick. 'Hopefully, no one will learn of your disguise or your story to gain a room.'

She shrugged. 'Bury's far enough away-none of the staff have family that far afield.'

Demon humphed. 'We can but hope. So-you were at The Angel when I arrived, intending to stay for the fight. I saw you… and then Lord Selbourne saw us. Thus, this morning, I brought you straight home so we can deal with the current situation.' He glanced at Flick. 'Can you see any holes?'

She shook her head, then grimaced. 'I do hate misleading the General, though.'

Demon looked out of the window. 'Given we've struggled to avoid all mention of Dillon and the syndicate thus far, I can't see any point mentioning them now.' It would only upset the General more to know the current imbroglio was a result of Flick's championing Dillon.

The shadows of the drive fell behind them; ahead, the manor basked in sunshine. The carriage rocked to a stop. Demon opened the door, stepped out, then handed Flick down. Jacobs opened the front door before they knocked; Demon led Flick into the cool hall, then released her.

Mrs. Fogarty came bustling up, fussing about Flick, who slid around her questions easily. Flick cast a watchful, questioning glance at Demon-he met it with his blandest expression. She frowned fleetingly, but had to reorganize her expression to deal with Mrs. Fogarty. With the housekeeper in close attendance, Flick headed to her room.

Demon watched her go, then his lips lifted, just a little at the ends. Challenges-more challenges. Swinging on his heel, he headed for the library.

'So-let me see if I've got this right.'

In the chair behind his desk, the General sat back and steepled his fingers. 'You and Felicity were again caught in an apparently compromising situation, only this time by someone who will take great delight in ruining Felicity's good name. You, however, are perfectly prepared to marry the chit, but she's proving headstrong, and jibbing at the bit. So, instead of pressing marriage on her in such an abrupt manner, you suggest I agree to send her to your mother, Lady Horatia, to enjoy the delights of the Season in London. Under your mother's wing, even without a formal declaration, it will be surmised that she's your intended, but the interlude will give Felicity time to adjust to the position, and accept marriage to you as the sensible course.' He looked up at Demon. 'Is that right?'

Standing before the windows, Demon nodded. 'Naturally, if, in the course of her time in London, she meets any other gentleman and forms a lasting attachment that is returned, I give you my word to release her without complaint. It's her happiness-her reputation-I'm interested in securing.'

'Indeed. Hmm.' The General's eyes twinkled. 'Well then, no reason whatever she should take exception to a sojourn in London. Do her good anyway, to see all she's missed stuck up here with an old man.'

The lunch gong boomed; the General chuckled and rose. 'Capital notion all around. Let's go tell her, what?'

Demon smiled easily. Beside the General, he strolled toward the dining room.

'London?' Flick stared at Demon, sitting directly opposite across the luncheon table.

'Hmm-the capital. My mother would love to have you stay with her.'

It was all so transparent. Flick glanced to her right, to where the General, nodding mildly, was helping himself to more peas. He seemed serenely unconcerned about her reputation, for which she was honestly grateful to Demon; she couldn't have borne it if the old dear had been distressed. Yet she was fairly certain the only reason he was in such fine fettle, knowing her reputation was, if not precisely in shreds, then certainly rather tattered, was because he believed a stay in London under Lady Horatia's wing would make her change her mind and accept his protege as her husband.

There was a good chance he was right-she certainly hoped so.

And there were a number of good reasons for falling in with Demon's plan. Not least was the fact that Bletchley had gone to London. And while she'd never before felt any interest in tonnish affairs, if she was to marry Demon, then she would need to find her feet in that arena. She was also suddenly insatiably curious as to how, and with whom, he spent his days in London.

Quite aside from all else, if she was going to make him fall in love with her, she needed to be with him.

Her eyes locked on his, she nodded. 'Yes-I think I'd like that.'

He smiled. 'Good. I'll drive you up tomorrow.'

'How on earth did that happen?'

Early the next morning, already on the road to London, drawn thence by Demon's powerful bays, Flick swivelled on the curricle's seat and glanced back at Gillies, perched behind. 'I thought you were following him?'

Gillies looked pained; Demon answered. 'We thought Bletchley was planning to take one of the special coaches back to London from Bury-Gillies heard him asking where to catch them. After watching Bletchley throughout the fight-and learning nothing-at the end, Gillies, quite reasonably, moved to the gate leading back to Bury and waited for Bletchley to pass him. He never did.'

'Oh?' Flick glanced back at Gillies.

He grimaced. 'He must have caught a ride on some cart back to Newmarket.'

'And then hired a horse and, bold as you please, came cantering up the manor drive.' Demon set his teeth. That had been too close for his liking-luckily, Bletchley had not seen Flick, nor she, him.

Flick sat back. 'I nearly dropped a vase when Jacobs mentioned he'd called, asking after Dillon.'

'Thankfully, Jacobs sent him on his way.' Demon eased the bays past a farm cart, then let the reins run free. 'Bletchley returned to the Rutland Arms and caught the evening mail to London.'

'So we've lost him.'

He glanced at Flick, relieved to see nothing more than a frown on her face. 'For the moment. But we'll come up with him again, never fear.'

'London's very big.'

'True, but it's possible to keep watch on the likely places Bletchley might meet with a group of gentlemen. The classes don't mix freely at all that many venues. Limmers, Tattersalls, and a few other, less savory