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you should go to all this trouble to take me up on my wager. I detect a certain recklessness in you, and if I know anything of feminine vanity it will be something of value that you think only I can give you. Will you please put us all out of our misery and tell us what it is?’
    Beatrice drew a deep breath, then fired her salvo. ‘That you marry me.’

Chapter Three
    J ulius was deaf to the collective gasps that followed this statement. Suddenly his entire body tensed. His fists clenched on his riding crop and then convulsively tightened. His features, about to relax into lines of arrogant satisfaction, froze and his face became a hard, cynical mask.
    â€˜Either you are carrying pity for me in losing the race to an unbelievable extreme, or else you’re not playing with a full deck.’
    â€˜I am neither dim-witted nor crazy,’ Beatrice stated, ‘and pity has nothing to do with my reasons for wanting this marriage.’
    â€˜Marriage? Come, Miss Fanshaw. Think about it,’ Lord Chadwick intoned in silken menace, as though his brooding eyes and smooth voice and his slight, dark smile could mesmerise any unsuspecting female. ‘Admit it. You were having a lark.’
    â€˜Oh, no, Lord Chadwick. I never lark about, as those who know me will tell you.’
    Gazing at her directly, Julius searched her face for some indication that she was joking, but her expression was completely unemotional. The soft pink lips were tantalising and gracefully curved, vaguely smiling. It stirred his imagination no small amount.
    â€˜Despite what you say, I think this really must be some kind of charade you play. You are asking me to do the impossible.’ She remained silent, holding his gaze, and the fire that had sprung in her eyes convinced him that this was no charade and that she was deadly serious. ‘Good God!’ The words were exhaled slowly, but otherwise he simply stared at her. Then the corner of his mouth twisted wryly in a gesture that was not quite a smile. ‘I suppose I left myself wide open for that.’
    As everyone looked on with shocked, incredulous expressions, he smiled coolly. ‘You must forgive me if I appear shocked. Naturally I am flattered by your proposal, Miss Fanshaw—in fact, I am quite blown away by it. Well—if this isn’t the most peculiar marriage proposal I have ever heard. You are without doubt a most shameless, impulsive creature.’ He was now amused. ‘You expressed admiration for my horse earlier. Will you not take him instead?’
    Beatrice shot him an indignant look, straightening her back. She recognised that her impromptu proposal had taken him completely unawares, but she played the game on. She shook her head, tossing the curling tresses that had become loosened by the race enticingly.
    â€˜Please have the good sense to take me seriously. Am I so ugly, sir, that you would prefer to rid yourself of your precious horse than to be wed to me?’ His bold gaze stirred something deep within her and the sensation was not unpleasant.
    â€˜On the contrary,’ he answered with an apparent ease he was far from feeling, ‘your beauty so blinds me, I fear I must be led to the altar by the hand—should I accept your proposal. Now, about my horse. What do you say?’
    Disregarding the sarcasm in his tone, Beatrice pinned a brilliant smile on her face. ‘But I couldn’t possibly take your horse. I recall you saying that you could not possibly part with him, in which case I would not dream of taking him from you. So I will settle for you instead. Come, Lord Chadwick? What do you say?’ She flicked a glance around the bystanders within earshot. They were waiting to hear what he had to say with baited breath.
    Julius let them wait a while longer as he faced the open challenge and measured the power of her will in her green gaze. There was plenty that he wanted to say, but not here, not now. In her resentment,