He laughed outright at her outrageous request, drawing the attention of several guests nearby. Sobering, Erasmus stated, "Completely out of the question. But thank you for asking. I needed some amusement this evening."

When he turned to leave her hand shot out, latching onto his arm with surprising strength. His steps halted and he peered at her gloved fingers until she removed them. Damn if a bolt of need hadn't flashed through him at the contact. Astonishing-he'd just bedded the amorous and very accommodating Mistress Rose of the Crown & Cock not twelve hours before.

"Lord Blakely, please. Hear me out." She rushed on before he could say yay or nay. "It would be a pretend betrothal, a farce if you will, lasting only a few weeks beyond the Season. Surely you can find it in your heart to assist me for such a short time? I will pay you handsomely for your trouble and release you publicly from our arrangement after you fulfill its terms."

"We have no arrangement," he felt compelled to remind her. "But for the sake of argument, your reasoning is faulty. For upon becoming affianced to me, not to mention later breaking said betrothal, your reputation would be tantamount to ruined."

"That has no consequence. I only want the appearance of a betrothal for the remainder of the Season."

"And why is that?"

"My reasons are my own."

Stubborn chit. He half wished he couldn't see her so clearly in the candlelit ballroom. Damn but something about her drew him. "If you won't explain yourself, why should I even consider your ridiculous proposal?"

That willful chin lifted again. "Because I will pay you."

"Not enough, not for what you're asking." She had no idea what she was asking, what being near her the next few weeks might cost him. Or her.

She proceeded to name a monetary figure that sent his head spinning.

Good God. He'd just been propositioned by a bloody heiress. "You're a piece of intriguing baggage, I'll give you that. Why me?"

"Your standing as one of the most sought-after libertines in the ton," she stated baldly. Her face flushed even more. "It suits my purposes quite well. And your title, for another reason. Not every Marquis has a character such as yours."

"I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered." The inexplicable urge to touch her cheek ran through him. Since when did he care about cheeks? He fisted his hands and anchored them firmly at his sides.

"I mean no offense but it is not in me to cavil at the truth. You and I both know that you have no intention of marrying this year and I need someone of your…ilk to best satisfy my plan."

He made a noise in his throat, one that could indicate he was considering her asinine idea, which was absurd-because he wasn't.

"I only ask that you show me the same courtesy and give me your honest reply posthaste." She looked over her shoulder, as if expecting a dragon to swoop in and steal her away.

Come to think on it, he was surprised they'd been left alone this long. "And what is your next course of action, should I turn down your oh-so-tempting offer?"

"Sarcasm does not become you, Lord Blakely," she admonished him.

"Do not talk down to me," he told her, instantly irritated with himself. With her. Why was he still wasting his breath conversing? Why not simply tell her no and be done with it? Why did he long to touch so much more than her cheek? To see her hair down, her dress gone and her legs wrapped around his waist?

Dammit, where was his control? It seemed to have abandoned him the very moment she abandoned her good sense and approached him.

"Forgive me," she said contritely. "The stress of awaiting your reply has put me quite on edge."

"That's understandable. Considering you've just propositioned a man who hasn't the faintest clue who you are."