Sam made sure to seat himself beside Alex, a fact she took note of with mild disdain. She disliked men of Ranelagh's stamp who amused themselves in ladies' beds. It seemed a gross self-indulgence, when life offered so much outside the conventional world of aristocratic vice.

"Meeting you this afternoon almost makes me believe in fate," he said softly. "I came here to discover the identity of the exquisite model in Leighton's Academy painting, and here you are."

"Whereas I don't believe in fate at all, Lord Ranelagh, for I came here today with privacy in mind, and here you all are."

He smiled. "And you wish us all to Hades."

"How astute, my lord."

He'd never been offered his conge by a woman before, and rather than take offense, he was intrigued. Willing females he knew by the score. But one such as this… "Maybe if you came to know us-or me-better," he added in a low voice.

Their conversation was apart from the others, their divan offset slightly from the other bright-hued sofas, and the three men opposite them were deep in a heated discussion of the best routes through the Atlas Mountains.

"Let me make this clear, Lord Ranelagh, and I hope tactful as well. I've been married twice; I'm not a novice in the ways of the world. I take my independence very seriously and I'm averse, to put it in the most temperate terms, to men like you, my lord, who find amusement their raison d'être. So I won't be getting to know you better. But thank you for the offer."

Her hair was the most glorious deep auburn, piled atop her head in heavy silken waves, and he wished nothing more at the moment than to free the ruby pins holding it in place and watch it tumble onto her shoulders. "Perhaps some other time," he said, thinking he'd never seen such luscious golden peach skin, nor eyes like hers.