At precisely eleven o'clock, Eric dismounted Emperor, tethering him to a tree a short distance from the Briggehams' garden gate. As he approached the garden, he caught sight of Samantha sitting on a stone bench, and he paused. She seemed lost in thought. Was she thinking about last night? He stared at her profile, allowing the memories of their passionate evening to fill his mind. Every sensual touch, every exquisite taste, replayed in his brain, simultaneously filling him with longing and a thudding ache of loss.

He resumed walking toward her. He'd nearly reached her when a twig snapped beneath his boot, and she jumped to her feet, turning toward him. She stood bathed in a pale shaft of moonlight, and his heart performed a crazy roll as his gaze roamed slowly downward, taking in her slightly disheveled chignon and her modest muslin gown. He then returned his gaze to her face. She peered at him through her thick spectacles with serious eyes. Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips, and he involuntarily mirrored the gesture, imagining her honey-sweet taste.

He walked slowly toward her, stopping when only two feet separated them. His pulse pumped through him at double its normal pace as his hungry gaze devoured her… the woman he loved. The woman he could not have. The woman he would most likely never see again after he walked away from her tonight.

God help him, he wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms and take her away. Repeat the passion and pleasure they'd shared last night. He looked into her eyes and felt his resolve slipping like sand through a sieve. He had to tell her their affair was over. Now. Before the wants and needs of his heart overrode everything else.

"I have something to tell you," they said in unison.

They stared at each other for several surprised seconds. Then, relieved to postpone the inevitable for a few more moments, he inclined his head. "Ladies first, my dear."

"All right." She drew a deep breath and looked up at him with emotion-filled eyes. "I've spent hours trying to find the right words, but I'm not certain they exist, so I shall have to simply say it. I wish to end our… liaison."

Eric felt as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. She wished to end their affair? Here he'd been agonizing, so concerned about hurting her, and she no longer wanted him! A bark of stunned disbelief lodged in his throat, and he would have laughed at his own conceit if he'd been able.

Certainly he should be relieved by this unexpected turn of events, which released him from the responsibility of breaking off their relationship. All he needed to do was agree, then walk away. He stood motionless, waiting for the happiness he should be feeling to wash over him, but happy was definitely not the "h" word to describe the emotions roiling through him. Hurt was much closer to the mark, damn it.

"May I ask why?" he asked stiffly.

She clasped her hands in front of her, then pivoted to face a tall, perfectly pruned hedge, leaving him to stare at her back. At her nape. At the delicate curve of her neck that he knew tasted like honey and felt like silk.

"Many reasons. I fear we risk discovery if we prolong our affair, and as it was only a temporary arrangement anyway…" She paused and squared her shoulders. "Your visit today gave my mother false hope that you are pursuing me. I did my best to convince her that she was wrong, but Mama is most persistent in these matters. In addition, I have been neglecting my work in the Chamber. I wish to devote my energies to furthering my experiments, and perhaps even plan a trip to the Continent. Therefore, I believe it is the wisest, and most logical, decision for us to no longer see each other. In any capacity."

Unreasonable, unjustified anger gripped him like a vice. "Look at me," he grated out through clenched teeth.

She slowly turned around until she faced him. Her eyes appeared huge, but she seemed otherwise perfectly composed, a fact that annoyed him further.

"So you wish for our friendship, as well as our affair to end?" he asked.

Her head bobbed in a jerky nod. " 'Tis for the best."

Silence fell between them. She was perfectly right, of course. His mind told him to bid her farewell and depart, but his voice and body refused to cooperate.

After what felt like an eternity but was surely no more than half a minute, she asked, "What did you wish to tell me?"

That I love you. That I want you to be my wife. My love. The mother of my children. I want to see the world with you and share all those adventures you dream of. Explore the ruins of Pompeü. Trek through the Colosseum, visit the Uffizi, and view the works of Bernini and Michelangelo. Swim in the warm waters of the Adriatic… I want to tell you that I do not want one day of my life to pass without seeing your smile, hearing your laugh, and touching your skin. And that I'm dying inside knowing that I shall never have those things with you.

He attempted to force his features into a sheepish expression, completely unsure if he succeeded. "Oddly enough, I'd intended to suggest we end our liaison… for much the same reasons as those you gave."

"I… I see." She looked at the ground for the space of several heartbeats, then raised her chin and offered him a small smile. "Well, then, it appears we are agreed. I wish you a long and prosperous life. It has been my… very great pleasure to know you."

She moved, clearly intending to leave him like that. Simply wish him well then saunter away.

Before his better judgment could stop him, his hand shot out, grasping her upper arm as she walked by him. Raw hurt seethed through him, scraping his insides. How could she just walk away?

She glanced down at his restraining hand, then raised her gaze to his. "Was there something else, my lord?"

Something inside him snapped at her dispassionate tone and her formal use of his title. Damn it, he wanted to hear his name pass her lips. As she'd whispered it last night, heavy with want and need for him. When he'd been deep inside her. Before the world and its dictates and his responsibilities conspired to rob him of her.

"Yes, Samantha, there is something else." Hauling her up against him, he covered her lips in a searing, explosive, angry kiss.

She stood motionless and unresponsive for several seconds, but then she moaned, rose up on her toes, and returned his kiss. Sanity fled as he wrapped his arms around her in an iron grip, reveling in the feel of her soft curves crushed against his body. He explored her mouth with a rough possession and utter lack of finesse that under other circumstances would have appalled him. His tongue stroked hers with a rhythmic desperation that matched the mantra pumping through his head. Mine. Mine. Mine.

He had no sense of how much time passed before their kiss changed from that out of control meeting of lips, breath, and tongue, to a slow, languid, deep mating that pumped thick, hot need through his every vein. He eased one hand up her nape and into her hair, scattering pins that fell silently onto the ground. Her soft, fragrant curls sifted over his fingers as his other hand drifted down to caress the feminine curves of her buttocks. A pleasure-filled moan sounded in her throat. She moved against him, and his erection jerked in response.

"Samantha," he whispered against her lips. "I-"

A loud gasp cut off his words. He and Samantha turned toward the sound.

Cordelia Briggeham and Lydia Nordfield stood not ten feet away, both ladies slack-jawed and bug-eyed.

Samantha drew in a sharp breath and jerked from his embrace as if he'd burned her. But the damage was done.

Mrs. Briggeham's lips formed a perfect O from which puffed a series of staccato chirping sounds. Touching the back of one hand dramatically to her brow, she staggered a few feet to the curved stone bench, then flowed downward in a graceful, chirping faint.

Chapter Nineteen

Sammie stared at her artfully fainted mother in horror. Humiliation and shame crashed upon her like rocks falling from the sky, crushing her until she could barely draw a breath. She wanted to scream denials, claim misunderstandings, but there was no refuting the damning evidence. Even if she and Eric had not been caught in a passionate embrace, neither could disguise their disheveled hair and clothing.

"Charles, my hartshorn," Mama called, waving her hand weakly to and fro.

Eric approached Mama. "I fear your husband is not within earshot, madam, and I am fresh out of hartshorn," he said in a distinctly dry tone. "May I assist you? Or perhaps we should call for a physician?"

Mama blinked and sat up straight. "A physician? Oh, no, that's quite unnecessary. I'm certain I shall recover in a moment. I was merely overcome for a moment by the good news."

Mrs. Nordfield stepped forward and issued a derisive snort. "'Good news? Lud, Cordelia, you're a candidate for Bedlam." She favored both Eric and Sammie with a scathing head-to-toe glare. "This is scandalous. Horrifying. Outrageous. Completely beyond the pale."

Mama propelled to her feet with an amazing agility for one who'd just swooned. "Good news," she repeated firmly. She turned her attention to Eric and bestowed a smile so angelic upon him, Sammie could almost see a halo encircling Mama's head. "I had no idea you'd decided to propose so soon, my lord." She pulled a lace hanky from the pocket of her gown and dabbed her eyes. "I'm so very happy for you both."

A full minute of the most deafening silence Sammie had ever heard, ensued. Mortification singed her from head to toe. She prayed for the ground to open and swallow her. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that she'd open them and this tableau would be nothing more than a dreadful nightmare. She prayed for lightning to strike her.

A smug smile curved Mrs. Nordfield's lips. "Clearly you have misinterpreted the situation, Cordelia."

"Of course I haven't," Mama said with a breezy wave of her handkerchief. "The earl is an honorable man and never would have kissed Samantha in such a… vigorous manner unless he'd proposed to her." She shook her index finger at Eric in mock reproof. "Of course it was very naughty of you not to seek Mr. Briggeham's permission for Samantha's hand first, my lord, but naturally you have our blessing."

"I do not believe we interrupted a proposal at all," said Mrs. Nordfield, treating the entire group to a collective glare down her long nose. "No, 'tis obvious that in our quest to locate night-blooming flowers, we inadvertently stumbled upon an illicit assignation. Why on earth would the earl propose at this time of night? Gentlemen propose during the day, in a properly chaperoned setting such as the drawing room." A sly look entered her eyes. "But fear not, Cordelia. I would not dream of repeating a word of this scandal."

Mama raised her chin to its most regal height. " 'Tis not a scandal. 'Tis a proposal. And of course you will tell everyone as much." She turned her imperious stare on Eric. "Well, Lord Wesley? What have you to say for yourself?"

Sammie slanted Eric a glance from the corner of her eyes. He stood straight and tall, seemingly calm, but a muscle ticked in his clenched jaw and he appeared pale.

"Miss Briggeham and I will marry," he ground out in a voice that resembled broken glass.

Nausea gripped her and her brain screamed a long, agonized, silent NO! In her deepest, secret dreams she'd longed for his proposal, but dear God, she did not want him like this. Trapped. Unwilling. His earlier words ate at her like acid. I'm in no position to offer you marriage. I've no intention of ever marrying… I would never want to be forced into marriage.

Mama's smile could have illuminated the entire kingdom. "My husband and I shall expect to hear from you on the morrow regarding the plans." She slanted a glance toward Mrs. Nordfield. "Lydia, you may be the first to offer congratulations and best wishes to his lordship and my daughter."

Mrs. Nordfield's puckered countenance indicated she'd prefer lying on a bed of hot coals. Her jaw sawed back and forth several times, then she said, "My felicitations to you both." She then muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like damn it all to hell and back again.

Still beaming, Mama turned to Sammie, grabbing her firmly by the arm. "Come along now, Samantha."

Too numb to argue, she allowed her mother to pull her along the path leading back to the house, Mrs. Nordfield following close behind.