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Monmouth’s Rebellion. Lady Lettice Dearing had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Anne.
    Nothing but the thought of Lee’s stout little arms around her neck and the sweet gurgle of his laughter could have compelled Artemis to reply, “If you insist.”
    “I do.” Mr. Northmore’s harsh tone made those two words sound like a threat.
    Artemis refused to be intimidated. “Though I do not understand why it matters.”
    His powerful hands tightened around the arms of his chair. “It matters because my nephew is the last of our line. I am determined to rescue my family from the brink of extinction and raise it to a place of prominence, from which it will never be threatened in future.”
    That proved precisely what she had suspected—the man was nothing but a power-hungry social climber. Artemis strove to keep her lip from curling.
    “Prosperity is no guarantee of survival, sir. Many a noble house has died out for lack of heirs.” The Dearings might soon be among them, thanks to this man’s brother.
    “They haven’t enough good red blood.” Hadrian Northmore did not bother to hide his contempt. “Whatever our other faults, my family does not shrink from breeding.”
    The man had already made her blush once, when he’d kissed her hand in the manner of a true gentleman. Now he did it again with a most ungentlemanly remark. Artemis had good reason to know the Northmores did not shrink from breeding—even outside the bounds of matrimony.
    “Are we agreed, then?” Artemis hurried on. “You will provide for all Lee’s material needs, while I attend to his upbringing?”
    “Not so fast, if you please.” Hadrian Northmore leaned back in his chair, resting his strong, jutting chin against his raised fist. “I foresee some difficulties with this proposed arrangement of yours.”
    “Such as…?”
    His narrowed eyes ranged over her in a way that made Artemis squirm. “An unwed lady living on herown—wouldn’t be proper, would it? The lad already has one strike against him, being born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
    “I always conduct myself with the utmost propriety, sir. I resent your suggestion that I would ever do otherwise, particularly with an impressionable young child in my care.”
    If it were possible for her to stray from the path of strict decorum, a man like Hadrian Northmore might tempt her. That unwelcome thought shook Artemis to the solitary, sensible core of her being.
    “I am not saying you would do anything improper.” His tone implied that he did not think her capable of it. “I am only saying it might appear so. Appearances matter to the kind of people I want the boy associating with once he’s older.”
    It galled Artemis to admit the truth of that. Members of the ton could get away with the most despicable wrongdoing, provided they were discreet. Yet a perfectly harmless incident could bring down the full weight of society’s censure, simply because it had the appearance of impropriety. If anyone had seen her out on the heath yesterday in Hadrian Northmore’s arms, it could have ruined her reputation. If he were a gentleman, honor would have dictated he make her an offer of marriage.
    That improbable notion sent her pulse into a skittish dance, which Artemis struggled to ignore. “I am certain I could find a respectable chaperon, if you felt it was necessary. Have you any other objections?”
    Mr. Northmore nodded. “Such a handsome lady is bound to attract suitors, especially if she is in control of her young ward’s fortune. Where would it leave thelad and me if you decided to marry? I will not have some man I’ve never met in a position of influence over my nephew.”
    Did he expect her to be flattered that he’d called her handsome? Hard as Artemis tried to dismiss the compliment, she could not. He’d tossed it off in such a blunt, careless way, as he might have declared the sky was blue or the grass green. For the third time in less than an hour, Artemis felt the blood