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that arena.”
    Bill reddened. “But you are the one I keep coming after, Victoria.”
    Victoria sighed. “What did you really want, Bill?”
    Bill flung himself down on the sofa which creaked and bowed at the middle. “Where’s your brother? I need to ask him for some advice.”
    Victoria should have known the reason Bill had wanted a private chat hadn’t been because he wanted to chase her yet again. She pursed her lips. It shouldn’t have hurt but it did—a little.
     

CHAPTER 4
     
    Bill waited as Victoria stared at him.
    “I have no idea where Henry is.” Victoria smoothed a small, shaking hand over her immaculate silk skirts.
    He cocked his head on one side and raised an eyebrow. With an outraged squawk, Victoria flew to the door and fumbled with its handle. At last she managed to pull the door towards her and, with one last huff, she was gone.
    Bill smiled slowly. At least she had shown some emotion for once. For the first time since their weeks together in Brambridge.
    He hadn’t really needed to know where Henry was. He could have easily asked Lord Granwich and he would have found out where the man was hiding with his wife. But it had been worth it just to see Victoria’s expression when she became aware that he wasn’t really chasing her again.
    He had been until she finally confirmed what he had known all along. That she rejected him time and again because he was a bastard.
    The fire continued to blaze merrily in the blue room long after Victoria left. Bill stared into the dancing flames, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Every recent encounter with Victoria left him feeling exactly the same way, ashamed, and slightly— no—greatly inadequate.
    Yet she was like a drug to him. He couldn’t stop himself coming back for more, like a martyr with a hair shirt. Was it because she was someone he could— no— should, never have, or because she continually rejected him because of who he was?
    Bill pushed himself off the sofa. It groaned as the springs unwound. Long minutes had passed as he had sulked because he couldn’t have what he wanted. He should have been used to it by now. He narrowed his eyes. She may not want him but by hook or by crook he was going to have Lady Colchester. She epitomized everything that he was not, wellborn, the soul of propriety, wealthy and powerful.
    Nobody would call him a bastard or a peasant again after he had married her.
    With renewed vigor, Bill walked to the door, only to draw back as a statuesque figure strolled in, confidently shutting the door behind her. She stared at him and pouted, running her hands down the bright red flare of her dress cut narrowly across her hips, straining the flimsiness of material of her bodice against her lush curves.
    “Mr. Standish,” she said huskily. “I was hoping you might still be here.”
    Bill swallowed and took a step back into the room.
    “A friend recommended you to me.” Did she actually purr that? Like a tiger, the lady picked her way through the room and circled round behind Bill. He backed away, crashing against a small table.
    “Goodness me, how clumsy!” the lady tittered. “Although I suppose because of your considerable size you do need to be careful.”
    Bill flushed. This woman was as unlike Victoria as could be. The air sizzled with innuendo. “Might I know whom I’m addressing?” he said hoarsely.
    The lady pouted. “I’m disappointed, I thought everyone knew who I was. I am Celine.”
    “Celine?”
    Celine nodded vigorously, her curves tantalizingly appearing and disappearing. Against Bill’s better judgement, he continued to look. Celine laughed huskily.
    “Hmm, yes.”
    “Just… Celine?” How on earth did she stay in that dress?
    “You mean you don’t know who I am? You might have seen me more recently with Edward Fiske.”
    God. That Celine. Rumored courtesan and paramour to both Edward Fiske, the wealthy businessman and before that, Henry. Suddenly he wanted to be anywhere else but looking at her.