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not.”
    “If money is a problem, I do have an independent income at my disposal. Surely you could live comfortably in Paris on, say, a thousand pounds a year?”
    Sin couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You want me to return to Paris.”
    “Yes. The sooner, the better.”
    “And you would pay for my meals, rent, clothing, and general upkeep if I were to do so,” he continued, counting the points off on his fingers.
    Her expression became a little dubious. “Well, yes.”
    “All that’s lacking, then, is for you to promise to come visit me from time to time and bring me chocolates.”
    Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “I am not proposing keeping you, or some other sordid arrangement. Only keeping you away from me.”
    “It amounts to about the same thing. Do you have any other almost-husbands lurking about the countryside?”
    “I am completely serious!”
    Unsure whether he was more annoyed or amused, Sinclair closed the distance between them. “But I don’t want to return to Paris. I like it here.”
    She backed into the wall. “Ouch. I’m certain you’d be much happier with all your high-flying lady friends in Paris. It’s quite lovely there this time of year, anyway.”
    “It’s lovely here. Nearly as lovely as you.”
    “But no one in London even likes you!” she burst out, then blanched.
    And no one in London knew he had damned neardied for them more than a dozen times over the past five years. His chest tightening, he turned away so she wouldn’t see the sudden anger in his eyes. “They haven’t realized how charming I am,” he said smoothly, pretending to examine the view out the window.
    Surprisingly, she put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That was cruel.”
    Brushing her hand away, he faced her again. Pity was another item for which he had nothing but contempt. “I think London will like me considerably more when I am in your company, my lady.”
    “But—”
    “You’re very popular—quite society’s darling.” And that could work to his advantage, he realized as he studied her smooth, cream-colored complexion. Why, he was a bloody genius! Not only would their marriage keep him in society’s good graces but it would also gain him access to places his tattered reputation would otherwise have denied him. And given her own wildness, she wouldn’t cling on his arm every moment and get in his way.
    “But I am not going to get married—and certainly not to you!”
    He smiled. “Then you shouldn’t have kissed me.”
    Victoria flushed. “Don’t you think marriage will interfere with your womanizing and wagering and drinking?”
    She sounded desperate. Sin leaned forward, trapping her between the wall and his arms. “Not any more than it would interfere with your flirting and socializing and shopping and whatever else it is that you do.”
    “It won’t!” she shot back at him.
    He looked her in the eyes and was surprised whenshe looked straight back at him. Most people didn’t do that; they had too much to hide. “Apparently,” he murmured, “we are perfect for one another.” With that, he leaned down and kissed her.
    With a surprised sound that came from deep in her chest, Victoria returned the embrace, curving her neck to meet his mouth more fully with hers. Her instant, heated response aroused him, as it had last night in Lady Franton’s garden. He wanted to dislike her—to dismiss her as one of the faceless nobility who hadn’t bothered to discover who had killed his brother. But while he was reasonably sure she hadn’t murdered anyone, he did know one thing for certain: he had kissed a hundred women and never felt this way before.
    Slowly and reluctantly he broke the kiss. Her long, curling lashes fluttered open, and her violet eyes looked into his. “If I marry you,” she whispered, “it would only be for my family’s sake.”
    Sin chuckled. More likely it would be to escape her family. “May I take you for a picnic