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invitations slid to the floor. Rafe seemed almost panicked in his search for the letter, but she ignored the thought, more interested in reading.
    “Aha!” he exclaimed suddenly. “This must be it.” A seal cracked.
    But her eyes stared at the name that had leaped out when she turned the page. “My God!”  Her heart crashed to the floor. “You’re betrothed to Alice Pauling!”  She glared. Steven had mentioned Miss Pauling. An heiress.
    “No, I’m not.” But his face was red.
    “It says so right here. Lord Pauling of Paulus Grange, Surrey, announces the betrothal of his daughter, the honorable Alice Elaine Pauling, to the honorable Mr. Rafael Edward Thomas of Hillcrest Manor, Surrey. Nuptials are scheduled for June the seventh.”
    “I – am – not – betrothed.” It sounded as if he were talking through gritted teeth.
    “Are you accusing the editor of the Morning Post of fabricating the story?”  She tapped the paper. “Who is she?”
    “A neighbor, but that doesn’t—”
    She slammed down the paper. “How dare you wed me when you are promised to another?”
    “It’s not like that, Helen. Sit down.” He sighed.
    Since he looked exasperated rather than dangerous, she complied. But her heart pounded harder than ever, worsening her headache. The day had already served up too many shocks, and it was barely eight.
    “Thank you.” Rafe laid aside his letter. “I started to tell you about this at breakfast.”
    She frowned, recalling that he’d interrupted when she’d tried to warn him about Steven.
    “I’ve refused this match repeatedly for ten years,” he continued. “Our fathers are the ones pushing it. Hillcrest submitted the announcement without my knowledge or consent.”
    “You expect me to believe that?”
    “It’s the truth. I told you about yesterday’s summons. When I arrived, he announced that he’d made the arrangements despite my continued refusals.”
    “No father would treat his son so shabbily.”
    “Hah!  He’s hated me since the day I was born.”
    “I don’t believe it.” She raised her chin, which usually prompted men to take her seriously.
    “Believe it.” He glared. “He hated my mother, too. The price of his affection has always been repudiation of Mother. He’s added other conditions over the years – like abandoning London. He believes it is a godless place brimming with degenerates. Since I choose to live here…”  He shrugged.
    “But that doesn’t explain this.” She tapped the paper. “Does he hate Miss Pauling, too?”
    “Of course not, but her feelings don’t concern him. He wants her dowry. Paulus Grange is a prosperous estate that would more than double Hillcrest’s holdings. He’s coveted it since childhood. Pauling is ill and easily swayed. Since Hillcrest abhors scandal, he expects me to avoid raising one. He refuses to accept that scandal doesn’t bother me. We had a flaming row when I repudiated the match yet again.”
    Flaming row. Her heart sank. That was why he’d proposed. She’d appeared when he was in the throes of rebellion, something he would soon regret. So she could not rely on him.
    Rafe ran his fingers through his hair. “I was heading for my solicitor’s office to see if he could quash the announcement when I met you. Hillcrest will never listen. I’m tired of battles. Marriage ended the war once and for all.”
    “Why me?”
    “You are intelligent and competent, will never turn weepy or demanding, possess beauty and breeding, and I love your hair.”
    His words seemed glib. How could anyone determine intelligence on five minutes’ acquaintance – while drunk?  How could he claim she’d be undemanding when she’d made demands from the first – take me to Berkeley Square … take me to Formsby’s Bank . She’d all but begged him to save her from Steven. And while she hadn’t shed tears, she’d been very close.
    His eyes were the color of slate today, swirling with emotion she couldn’t read. His