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rise in her cheeks.
    “I am nine-and-twenty years old,” she replied, as much to remind herself as to inform him. “I have long been on the shelf. Even if some other gentleman were shortsighted enough to fancy me handsome, marriage holds no attraction for me. My nephew… our nephew is the only gentleman with whom I wish to share a home. Unless…”
    The maddest idea possessed her, born of desperation in the face of Hadrian Northmore’s frustrating resistance. “Unless you were prepared to marry me…entirely as a matter of convenience, of course.”
    For once the man looked lost for words. Artemis congratulated herself on that small victory. She hoped the threat of having to wed her would make the alternative, of merely employing her, more attractive.
    Before he could recover his voice, she rattled on with counterfeit eagerness, “Such an arrangement would answer all your objections, would it not? I would be a perfectly respectable married woman with a husband working abroad. No one would raise an eyebrow over my living arrangements. And you would not have to worry that I might marry anyone else in your absence. Since neither of us is inclined to wed in future, it would create no encumbrance.”
    As she spoke, Mr. Northmore’s dazed stare tensed into a scowl of profound concentration. Or perhaps it betrayed his deep aversion to the idea of marrying her.
    Given their vast differences and mutual bitterness, that was quite natural and all to the good, Artemis told herself, disregarding a foolish pang of humiliation. She did not want to marry him either, not even as a pure formality. The greater his distaste, the more anxious he would be to accept a less drastic alternative.
    Hadrian Northmore sprang from his seat and began to pace in front of the hearth, one hand tucked behind his back while he rubbed his chin with the other.
    “You know, that may not be as daft a scheme as it sounded at first.” His words stumbled out in a disjointed mutter, as if he were trying to persuade himself.
    Good heavens! He wasn’t actually considering it, was he? For the first time in her life she’d acted on an impulse and look where it had landed her.
    “You are too polite, sir.” Artemis endeavored to undo the damage. “It is a ridiculous idea. I see that now. Let us think no more of it, I beg you.”
    He seemed too lost in his own thoughts to heed her. “I could adopt the lad as my heir. If we married, you and he would both bear the Northmore name. By the time he is old enough for school, the scandal of his birth may be forgotten and people might assume he is our son.”
    “Perhaps so, but—”
    “Say no more, Lady Artemis. You have persuaded me.” Hadrian Northmore strode toward her. Seizing her by the arms, he raised her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. “For the sake of our nephew, you must marry me!”

Chapter Four
    I f anyone had predicted he’d ever consider marriage again, let alone to the daughter of a marquis, Hadrian would have laughed in his face. Yet, here he was, not simply considering marriage to Lady Artemis, but quite determined to go ahead with it. His hands clamped around her slender arms as he awaited her answer.
    “You and I marry?” Her eyes darted anxiously. “Surely you cannot mean that. We only met yesterday and we did not get on well.”
    Her reluctance only strengthened his resolve. “We have our differences, I’ll admit. But we have one vital interest in common—the welfare of our nephew. Besides, it is not as if we will have to share a home for the rest of our lives. After a mere eight months, we will have no need for any contact beyond an annual exchange of letters.”
    Before she could reply, the footman called out from his place by the door, “Begging your pardon, my lady. Do you need any help?”
    With a guilty start, Hadrian realized how it must lookto the servant—him looming over Lady Artemis, holding her so close. He might appear to be threatening her, or