Ready to make his departure, Derek halted and turned, his hat and gloves still in hand. A glance behind him revealed Millicent Rutherford, the Countess of Windmere, standing in the middle of the foyer. He'd thought her lovely when she'd come out six years before and after three years of marriage and two children, she was even lovelier, tall and slim with the most beautiful, expressive eyes. At the moment they appeared concerned.

"Lady Windmere," he said in greeting and made his way toward her.

"I pray you had a pleasant drive?" she said, when he reached her side. They turned and as if by tacit agreement, entered the drawing room.

"I did."

"And things are well between you and Elizabeth?" A subtle, ladylike probe into his private affairs.

He gave a rueful smile. Her concern for her cousin was expected. No doubt Rutherford had told her his edict of marriage had been met with something less than joy.

"I wager we will muddle through this well enough." One way or another.

"You are a true gentleman. Thank you." Lady Windmere took his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Things have not been easy for Cousin Margaret these last several years. That's Elizabeth's mother. I don't know how she would handle such a scandal."

"Where is she from, your cousin?" he asked. He knew practically nothing of her except the taste of her lips, the firm softness of her breasts, how she felt pressed up against him.

"Penkridge. It's a tiny village in Staffordshire. I'm sure you've never heard of it."

Derek stilled. Not only had he heard of the town but he'd had cause to go there six winters ago. And in that moment, the past rose up to sully the present. Margaret. That had been the name of the mother. The bank draft had been made out to Mr. Joseph Smith, a local solicitor of meager means and three daughters. He knew only the name of the eldest—the calamity had given him good cause to never forget it—Madeline.

"Her father, what is his occupation?" He strived to keep the urgency from his voice.

The countess shot him a surprised look. She knew him well enough to know he wasn't the sort to stand on ceremony and was a man who would never judge another by his station in life. "Cousin Joseph is a solicitor. But I don't believe he retained his practice since he came into the barony."

For several seconds Derek remained silent, schooling his features as he endeavored not to give any indication of how great an impact what she'd just revealed had on him.

He'd been duped, played for the veriest fool. And the irony did not escape him that he'd been nearly caught in the same trap he'd helped his brother escape years before.

Now the younger sister had him on the hooks and thought to reel him in with the ease of an accomplished fisherman. She told him she'd be ruined if he did not marry her, her family's name dragged through the gutter that was the ton's gossip mill.

Ruined. For a kiss.

By God, if she was to be ruined, it shouldn't be over a paltry kiss. No, he'd show her the true meaning of ruin.