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course,” he said drolly.
    He silently followed her down the corridor to the back of the house. Reggie’s map room had two windows, but they were always shrouded with draperies so that the maps would not fade in the sunlight. Winifred lit the lanterns and soft, gold light illuminated the room.
    She still came in here on occasion, when she was missing her sweet husband, the man who had loved her and had been satisfied that she had not loved him in return. He’d been a true friend to her and she would miss him always.
    For the most part, though, this room had gone untouched since Reggie had died, nearly fourteen months before. A long mahogany table stretched across one side of the room and several maps lay unrolled and held down with various glass bobs. The rest of the maps resided in a cabinet Reggie had commissioned many years before.
    “We can use this table,” she said.
    “We?” he asked, brows raised.
    “Yes, I shall be assisting you.”
    “I don’t require assistance.”
    “Perhaps not, but you require me for access to these maps.” She gave him a deliberately sweet smile, which he seemed totally immune to.
    It was the one thing that perplexed her most about Alistair. How could he evoke such emotions from her yet seem to feel none of his own? It was a mystery…he was a mystery.
    He stepped over to the table and glanced at the maps.
    “The rest are here?” he asked, indicating the cabinet behind him.
    “Yes.”
    He said nothing more, but merely sat and withdrew a small bound book from the inside of his coat. He opened it and read silently. Then he looked back at the maps. “No, no, and no.” He walked over to peruse the maps in the cabinet.
    She watched his methodical movements. He’d unroll a map, glance over it, and either make a note in a second notebook or return the map to its previous place.
    He seemed to not be bothered by her presence, nor did he attempt to include her in his work. After an hour, he set down his quill and met her gaze.
    “I should like to have an affair with you.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Her heart thundered in her ears.
    “We are well suited in the bedroom, if you recall. And we are both unattached now. You certainly have no need to be concerned of your reputation. Not that you ever were. It is logical.”
    She frowned and felt the weight of her brow as it furrowed above her eyes. “I don’t believe logic plays a part in matters of the heart.”
    “I am not speaking of the heart. Merely of a carnal relationship. As we had before, as you once suggested.”
    He tossed her own words back at her and she winced.
    “I know you still feel desire toward me. I felt that in your kiss yesterday.”
    Winifred stared openly at him. He was quite serious, she knew that. Alistair was not one for jests. In fact, she wasn’t altogether certain he had a sense of humor. She ignored her body’s reaction to his shocking request. She wanted him, and the mere glance of his eyes lingering at her cleavage had her breathing short. The desire was there, and of course Alistair knew. He’d always been able to see that in her.
    Finally, he nodded. “You obviously need time to consider.”
    “Alistair, we cannot have an affair.”
    “Of course we can. If we can pretend to be betrothed, we can have an affair.”
    “It is not that simple.”
    “It is actually quite simple.” He gathered his materials and stood. “I believe you know where I reside. We shall dine tonight at eight.”
    That was the extent of his invitation. If she wanted something more romantic, she would never get it from him. “I shall see you out,” she said.
    “I know my way out. Until tonight, Winifred.”
    Did he mean to start an affair with her tonight? At his townhome? After they dined on pheasant and boiled potatoes? Gracious, having Alistair back in her life had most assuredly complicated things rather quickly.
    …
    Alistair had meant to propose the affair with more finesse, but he never had been good at those sorts