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drooped in his big hands, the daffodils brushing golden pollen on the sleeve of his dark coat. Heedless, he presented the bouquet to her. “For you, the lady of my heart.”
    Flabbergasted, Alicia caught the flowers against her bosom, drenching herself in rich scent. Her voice deserted her. What nefarious purpose had prompted his flamboyant gesture? There had to be a catch; there always was with a man like Drake Wilder. In a moment he would make his cruelly scathing remarks. He would ridicule her mother until she wept.
    Lady Eleanor clapped her hands. The empty basket swung from the crook of her arm, the gold coin glinting among a few bruised petals. “Ah, she’s a pretty one. And sweet-tempered, too.”
    “Mmm.” Mockery glinting in his eyes, he made a noncommittal sound in his throat. “We are a fine couple. A perfect match.”
    “Aye,” she said, regarding them fondly, her small hands folded beneath her chin. “’Tis like a romantic tale of yore.”
    “I’m glad we have your approval.” In a swift move, he caught Alicia to his side, his hand firm and warm at her waist, trapping her to his hard body. Her arms were so full of flowers that she couldn’t push him away. “From the moment we met, I knew we were destined to wed.”
    He had the audacity to wink at Alicia. As if she were a willing party to duping her mother.
    She should spit in his diabolically handsome face. She despised the way he held her, as if she were his possession, won at a roll of the dice. Yet he had made Mama smile, and a curious tenderness tugged at Alicia’s heart, an involuntary softening that stole the edge off her anger. Had he not clasped her so closely, she might have wilted like the blossoms crushed to her bosom.
    The rogue. This charm was all an act, his way of trifling with women. He didn’t care about Mama; he would want to cast her into Bedlam Hospital when he was done teasing her. That horrifying thought shook Alicia into action.
    She shouldered herself free of him. “Come,” she told her mother. “You must help me arrange these flowers in water.”
    Lady Eleanor giggled like a girl when Wilder opened the door and politely assisted her into the foyer. Alicia kept a sharp eye on him, alert for any sign of derision, the contempt she herself had witnessed in him. But he showed her mother only a courteous regard, advising her to watch her step and complimenting her on her extravagant hat.
    Mrs. Molesworth came trotting down the dim corridor. “M’lady! You gave us all a start!” She aimed a puzzled glower at Drake Wilder.
    She clearly didn’t realize his identity, and Alicia wasn’t about to enlighten her. Not wanting her house made into a battleground, she discreetly shook her head. He would be gone from here as soon as he realized that no matter how steep her debt to him, he could not use her family as playthings for his amusement.
    Alicia went to her mother and deposited the cuttings back in the basket. “You’ll need a vase,” she said, slapping the pollen off her hands. “Will you take her to the kitchen, please?”
    The cook gave a brisk nod and guided Lady Eleanor down the passageway. Mama’s excited voice drifted back to them. “Look!” she said, rummaging in the bottom of the basket. “I’ve a guinea! From that well-mannered gent. I do believe ’e’s in love with ’er.”
    Alicia’s face flushed hotly. Conscious of Wilder standing behind her, she held herself with ladylike dignity. To her relief, Mrs. Molesworth only smiled at Mama’s ramblings, and the pair disappeared through the doorway that led to the basement stairs.
    Anxious to evict Wilder, she whirled back toward him. The tart dismissal withered on her tongue. He wasn’t there. Sunlight through the long window poured a thick golden bar on the empty marble floor.
    She hadn’t even heard him move.
    Then she spied him in the library, examining the few remaining books on the mostly bare shelves. Heels clicking, she marched into the bleak