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still thrumming. A moment later, she slapped her palms down repeatedly on the water’s surface while crying out in frustration. Such damned weakness! She had just handed Ruel a sort of victory. Yes, this was private and only she would ever know.
    But she would know .
    Forever.
    In fact, this was worse than his attempt to manipulate her into giving more of herself than she’d wanted to. Here, now, she’d let him into her private world of her own choosing.
    And that she could have done so was the most shocking thing of all. She had only ever been able to climax while thinking of the nameless, faceless man in her secret dreams. Her imaginary lover. A man who would never hurt her or betray her or ignore her. Now she couldn’t even conjure the faceless man without seeing Ruel take his place.
    Her mouth went dry at the impact of that.
    She pulled herself from the tub. Then she jerked the bell pull for Nellie to return and aid her to dress. She was determined to put clothes between herself and her desires.
    Passing by her writing desk, she saw the letter. Pressure constricted her throat, spreading to her chest. Dear God. Time was passing so quickly and soon she would need to travel and meet that precious package Mama was sending to England. Her half-sister Dorothea, travelling alone but for servants. Anne had to meet her. She couldn’t fail. She knew what it was like to be alone except for those who were paid to watch over, but never to love, and who dared not come too close. Anne couldn’t help how her mother had dealt with this unknown half-sister but she could make sure that the first face Dorothea saw when she disembarked the ship would be one of a blood relative who welcomed her with open arms.
    A memory of her own childhood swept over her.

    She was seated in a chair placed at the middle of the large table, back in Ireland. Christmas. One of the rare times she was allowed to eat in the formal dining hall. Dressed splendidly in a lavender frockcoat and silver and white waistcoat, the duke chewed methodically, his eyes glazed with boredom. He held his elegantly tall and slender body completely erect. His features were so perfect, so handsome—so aloof, so glacial. She hated that look. He didn’t seem human. She couldn’t believe someone as imperfect as herself—dark skinned, chubby and awkward—had sprung from his loins. Her stomach cramped, the little food she’d eaten threatening to come up and disgrace her. It would be such bad manners, proving how ill-suited she was to the formal dining hall. Yet she felt like this each time she was allowed to eat here. She missed her nurse.
    She glanced away from the duke and looked to Mama for reassurance.
    Mama didn’t notice her. She was gazing at herself in the reflection of her silver spoon and smiling. Anne swallowed, hard, and the nausea in her stomach turned into a cold lump too dense to be ejected. It was the best she could do to comfort herself. She pushed the food around on her plate…

    Anne pulled herself from the memory and shook her head with determination. No, she would not be like her parents. She would not relegate her half-sister to the sole care of servants, only to be dragged out at Christmas as a novelty.
    Yet she seemed to be powerless to overcome her own fears, which prevented her from travelling. What was she going to do?
    She paced the chamber.
    What was she going to do ?
    At the evening meal, she picked at her food and dared occasional glances at Ruel. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to find her answers in a man like him. To think she might have made the most mistaken judgement of her life. She could only pray now that he wouldn’t share her secrets. She’d die if smug Francesca and her snickering, simpleton friends knew.
    She retreated into the only defence she knew—the dignified withdrawal behind an icy façade that had sustained her through her two Seasons in Mayfair.
    She refused to even so much as look directly at Ruel, pretending he did