Rules of Attraction by Christina Dodd Page A

that would be too easy.
    But a reconciliation? Perhaps some would call it that. Certainly, he intended to keep her. Eventually, he would use her as his father had said a woman should be used. Without love, without passion, to procreate. And Hannah, earnest, emotional, enthusiastic Hannah, the girl who had dreamed of being part of a family— that Hannah would be miserable.
    As miserable as he had been this last nine years.
    He couldn't wait.
    He had been so angry when, after they'd been wed for six months, she had run from him. Run from him, as if he were some kind of monster. He knew men who were worse husbands than he had ever been. Men who ignored their wives, who shouted at them, who beat them. And he, he who had been good to the girl— he was left to the laughter of his business comrades. Then… then he'd been accused of her murder.
    The bitterness of it. That stupid maid of hers, claiming they had fought before Hannah disappeared.
    Of course they had, but what of it? He would never have killed her. Never hurt her, never touched her in anger, no matter how much she tried his patience.
    And she had. Always, she had, calling him a liar, demanding that he follow through on his promises. As if he would ever allow his wife to work. He had roared at her when he thought of the gossip that would cause.
    Now he knew there were worse things than gossip.
    The road wound toward Presham Crossing and beyond that the sea, and he followed it as he always did on those nights when memories and frustration drove him from his bed.
    He never thought he would live under a cloud for so long. He had thought the slip of a girl he had married would be easily found, and he had feared only she would be hurt or, in her innocence, be taken advantage of. Instead she had vanished. Vanished except for a single letter.
    He had worried. He had searched. He had hired detectives and raged at Charles. Nothing had yielded a single sign of her until… until that check had arrived. By then he had grown so used to having his servants and his colleagues cower from him he no longer cared. He was a loner, cold, disciplined… a man like his father.
    More than anyone, he had realized the need to bait his trap carefully. He had feared to rush Hannah, to tip his hand, for if the girl without a pence or a friend could escape him, what could the woman do? She had her connections. He knew about them all. He knew that Queen Victoria favored the Distinguished Academy of Governesses with her approval. He knew everything about all of her friends, everything about her financial situation, the name of her dressmaker, and her shoe size. Because he wanted revenge.
    Not because he cared for her. He didn't still care for her. Not like a husband. Not as if they were lovers. No, time and distance had accomplished their purpose. He grasped that when he'd received her money. He had stared at the check and realized this was it. The moment he'd plotted for for so many years. The moment that she delivered herself into his hands. And he'd been calm. No fury lit his fuse. No passion rioted through his veins. He had been calm. Absolutely calm. Calm.
    Except at night. Except in his dreams. Except when his thoughts drove him from the bed to ride as he was riding now.
    Damn the woman. Didn't she realize this was his chance to exact revenge? His chance, not hers. She had no right to kiss him, to torment him with the fragrance of her curvaceous body, the glint of her subdued, golden hair, the demands of her satiny lips. He was the one who had the right to torment.
    But had he succeeded?
    He held her in the palm of his hand, he knew it. She couldn't leave. No matter what he did or said, she wouldn't leave. Not until she'd discovered the truth about herself, about where she'd come from and who her people were. She'd been searching for that knowledge her whole life, and he had the power to give it to her.
    But he wouldn't. Not yet. Not until he had what he wanted from her.
    Which was