Free Rendezvous by Amanda Quick Page B

and that's my final offer."
    Augusta lifted her chin. "So very generous of you, my lord," she said acidly.
    "Yes, it is. Too generous by half. Go on into the house, Miss Ballinger, before I regret my generosity and do something quite drastic for which we will both no doubt be extremely sorry."
    Harry turned and stalked out of the garden and back down the lane. He seethed every step of the way over the fact that he had just bargained like a fishmonger over the length of his own engagement. He wondered if this was how Antony had felt when dealing with Cleopatra.
    Harry was inclined to be more sympathetic with Antony tonight than he had been in the past. Previously he had always considered the Roman a victim of his own unbridled lust. But Harry was beginning to understand how a woman could undermine a man's self-control.
    It was a disturbing realization and Harry knew he would have to be on his guard. Augusta was displaying a talent for being able to push him to the edge.
    Hours later, safe in her bed, Augusta lay wide awake and stared at the ceiling. She could still feel the commanding warmth of Harry's mouth on hers. Her body remembered every place he had touched her. She ached with a strange new longing to which she could not put a name. A heat seemed to be flowing in her veins, pooling in her lower body.
    She realized with a shiver of awareness that she wished Harry were here with her now to finish whatever it was he had started there on the floor of his library.
    This was what was meant by passion, she thought. This was the stuff of epic poems and romantic novels.
    For all her vivid imagination, she had not truly understood how enthralling it would be, nor how dangerous. A woman could lose herself to this kind of glittering, compelling excitement.
    And Harry was intent on marriage.
    Augusta felt a wave of panic rise up inside her. Marriage? To Harry? It was impossible. It would never work. It would be a terrible mistake. She had to find a way to end this engagement, for both their sakes. Augusta watched the shadows on the ceiling and warned herself that she would have to be very careful and very clever.

4
    Harry propped one shoulder against the ballroom wall and sipped meditatively at a glass of champagne as he watched his fiancée step into the arms of yet another man.
    Augusta, glowing in a gossamer silk gown of dark coral, was smiling with pleasure as her tall, handsome, red-haired partner swept her into a dashing waltz. There was no denying the couple made an attractive sight on the crowded dance floor.
    "What do you know of Lovejoy?" Harry asked Peter, who was lounging beside him with a bored expression on his handsome face.
    "You'd do better to ask that question of one of the ladies." Peter's gaze wandered restlessly across the crowded ballroom. "I understand he's got quite a reputation among the fairer sex."
    "Obviously. He's danced with every eligible female in the room tonight. Not one of them has turned him down yet."
    Peter's mouth twisted briefly. "I know. Not even the Angel." His eyes lingered briefly on Augusta's demure, golden-haired cousin who was dancing with an elderly baron.
    "I don't care if he dances with Claudia Ballinger, but I may have to put a stop to his waltzing with Augusta."
    Peter's brow rose mockingly. "You think you can accomplish that feat? Augusta Ballinger has a mind of her own, as you should know by now."
    "Be that as it may, she is engaged to me. It's time she learned to behave with a bit more propriety."
    Peter grinned. "So now that you've selected your bride you intend to turn her into the sort of wife you think you want, is that it? This should prove interesting. Bear in mind that Miss Augusta Ballinger comes from the wild branch of the Ballinger family. From what I have heard that lot never could do anything with propriety. Augusta's parents scandalized Society by making a runaway marriage, Sally tells me."
    "That is an old piece of business and need not concern anyone now."
    "Well,