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heavens, a very grave mistake indeed. I’ll take you somewhere to wait. You’ll be pleased to know I have a very English housekeeper who’ll see to your comfort.” He held out his arm for her to take, and she didn’t move. She didn’t want to touch him again. The fine linen weave of his shirt was too thin, she could feel his arm too clearly, feeling the strength of him, the corded muscles, the heat. It distracted her—she wasn’t used to touching men at all, and certainly not with such intimacy.
    â€œIf you don’t take my arm you might trip and break your leg and then what good would you be to your poor mother?” he said in a bored voice. “This corridor is a back way to the private wing of the château and seldom used. There may even be rats.”
    She grabbed his arm immediately, taking heart in the fact that she hadn’t climbed on top of him. She had a horror of rats, which was unfortunate given herfamily’s living conditions. “Let’s go,” she said hurriedly, trying to control her shudder.
    â€œI take it you don’t like rats,” he said, drawing her down the hallway.
    She kept imagining them running up her skirts, and with her other hand she held them tight around her legs. “I don’t care for them, but then, who does?” she said in her most reasonable voice.
    â€œOh, I think it’s a little more than that. Rats are a fact of life, and yet you…”
    â€œCould we please discuss something else?” She’d given up trying to hide her distaste. “Anything else?” The muffled sound of groans leeched through the walls, and they moved on before she could make the mistake of asking what those noises were. If anyone was in pain. Because a moment later she realized what those moaning, grunting sounds were. Remembered.
    Her companion seemed oblivious to it all. “We can discuss your plans for the future. What do you plan to do after your mother dies raving?”
    Not much of an improvement over rats, but she’d take it. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do for the next week,” she said, perhaps unwisely, but she’d used up almost her last ounce of courage.
    There was a moment of bright light as a door opened into the hallway, and then they were plunged into darkness again. The smell of perfume and heated skin was overwhelming, and she looked at the two who’d managed to breach the viscount’s private hallway.
    â€œI thought you’d be here, Francis,” the gentleman said, looking at her out of hooded eyes. He was theone she’d first met, with the handsome, scarred face. “Veronique thought you might be interested in a trade and promised her I’d find you.”
    â€œA trade for what?” Rohan said lazily.
    â€œThe little dressmaker,” the woman said in a husky voice. “You know as well as I do, Francis, that she’s the most delicious thing to appear at one of our parties in a long time, and you can’t just expect us all to ignore her. It’s hardly reasonable.”
    â€œVeronique, have I ever struck you as a reasonable man?”
    â€œI, too, am not reasonable,” the woman, Veronique, said. “I can be extremely difficult when thwarted.” Her voice was a soft purr.
    For some reason Elinor moved closer to Rohan, her fingers clutching his arm tightly.
    â€œAnd exactly what are you suggesting?” Rohan inquired.
    â€œI’ve tried to distract Veronique with my humble charms,” the man said with deprecating candor, “but she insists she’s in the mood for a woman tonight, and she’s never had a virgin. Assuming the little waif still is—she’s been in your company for more than an hour, so there’s no guarantee of anything.”
    â€œVery true,” Rohan said. “So Veronique gets the girl and I get you? That hardly seems fair.”
    The scarred man cast her a wary glance.