A Scandalous Proposal by Julia Justiss

and buzzing about the identity of Cheverley’s latest filly. Before he could attempt to recover, she concluded in a cool voice that a businesswoman rose too early to make indulging in theater trips prudent, though of course she appreciated his thoughtful offer.
    Icy calm replaced her initial agitation. It had taken two days and every trick and charm he could summon to finally bring back the teasing repartee and passionate fire he adored. Uneasy at the possibility of alienating her again, he’d not ventured such a suggestion since. Nor protested when, to his huge disappointment, she subtly but unmistakably made it clear she would not accompany him anywhere in public.
    Without words, he understood, and without words, accepted that his very proper love could not tolerate being pointed out as his mistress.
    A few weeks later he’d forgotten the lesson. Strolling down Bond Street, he’d chanced to see an exquisite silver-lace mantilla set on a diamond-studded comb, and thought immediately of Emily. Perhaps the soldier had bought her such a headdress while she followed him through Spain, but none so fine as this.
    Evan’s smug satisfaction evaporated the instant she unwrapped it and her fine eyes clouded with dismay.
    â€œYou shouldn’t have,” she’d whispered, essaying a smile that didn’t quite succeed.
    â€œYou don’t like it.”
    â€œNo, ’tis exquisite. It’s just…you have given me so much already.”
    His irrational jealousy flared, and before he could think he retorted, “Did your husband never bring you gifts?”
    She bent her head, fingers rewrapping the tissue about the comb as if the sparkling reflection of the diamonds were a live and threatening thing. “That…that was different,” she said at last. “Besides, ’twould look rather out-of-place in the shop.”
    A pointed reminder she’d not wear it out anywhere—not with him.
    Her lingering distress over the illicit nature of their affair was the only shadow in what had otherwise been the most glorious eight weeks of his life.
    What a wonder she was! From the first day, she’d continued to amaze him with her talent and intelligence, to mesmerize with her depth and complexity. Nor had the pull of her beauty lessened. Indeed, if such a thing were possible, the attraction seemed stronger than ever.
    So drawn to her was he that he’d several times forgotten to attend social engagements at which he’d planned to be present. Of late he’d evaded such entertainments, despite his mama’s unspoken concern. Except for an occasional lunch or political dinner, he’d ceased to frequent his clubs. What attraction could some dull ton party, exactly like every other he’d attended a score of Seasons and more, exert compared to the rich delight of his world with Emily?
    Beautiful, demure, devilish Emily. Even the thought of her made his spirits, and other things, rise.
    Still, he concluded as he had to stoop to tie his cravat atthe dressing table mirror, the current situation was clearly inadequate. Not only did he need more room to change clothes without bruising his fists and damaging the plaster, it chafed him to see her living in tiny rooms above a shop—she who should be mistress of a stylish town house equipped with a staff to do her bidding and—without complaint or raised eyebrows—his.
    True, he admitted, as her business grew she might well one day earn enough to purchase such accommodation herself, but for the immediate future—
    The solution that flashed into his head was so brilliant he caught his breath, his hands stilling on the cravat. So brilliant, so perfect was it, even his proper Emily would not be able to find a flaw in his reasoning.
    Excitement speeding his fingers, he swiftly finished the knot. There was, he thought with a giddy laugh, more than one way to move a lady.
    Â 
    Emily was at her worktable, absorbed as