Chapter 1

The room of the inn was exquisite. Marian couldn't help but admire the elaborate furniture and carved four-poster bed that dominated the room. There was a comfortable amount of space for movement around the dresser, wardrobe and vanity, and a small writing table tucked away in the corner. Slowly she removed her coat. Obviously, she thought with some bitterness, it was paid for by numerous scandalous and morally grey-shading-to-black exploits. Nonetheless it was still rather beautiful.

"The Count sends you his greetings and says he most looks forward to seeing you later at luncheon," the servant who had shown her to her room set down her case. "He will send someone to fetch you at the appointed time…" like he had sent the carriage to fetch her from the station she added in her head. "The Count's room is through the adjoining door…"

Marian's eyes flew in a panic to the previously unnoticed item of horror and back to the significantly blank expression of the servant. "He said that if you needed anything you should just knock…or call one of the staff for assistance." With that the man left the room, slowly closing the door behind him.

Immediately, on hearing the click of the latch, Marian flew to the adjoining door and checked it over. The sigh of relief that escaped her was audible as she found it was locked on her side. So it was just Fosco being Fosco. She sifted a hand through her hair in irritation. He didn't actually expect anything but kept up appearances. Shaking her head Marian went to her case and started to unpack. A maid would probably be there soon to help her get ready for luncheon and she wanted to get her bearings first.

Fosco did not normally take luncheon in a small private room when he was on trips of leisure because it was easier to make conversation otherwise, but when he was entertaining private guests he did not much like distractions.

He realised again that he was playing a most dangerous game. Fosco never gambled unless he was very sure that he would win. This particular game was much out of the ordinary. Miss Marian was a highly skilled opponent, someone he'd do best to avoid, but he was inviting her to join him nonetheless. The temptation was almost too tantalising to deny. Fosco had never cared too much for anyone else in particular unless it served him in some way and a common theme in his life was once a door was closed he would not try to open it again. The past was the past. Yet a certain conversation in Paris had been playing on his mind and he was in London and she owed him a favour. It was too good an opportunity. She was the one failed conquest that bothered him…and yet all he intended from his plan was to see her again, to duel once more…and of course to know that he had her in a situation where he had the power. Nothing else was expected to happen. The adjoining room was merely a chance card, better to have the option open than not there at all. It was a mere creation of a possibility, but mostly just for the entertainment of imagining her face when she saw it. Exceptional.

The door opened and Fosco grinned at the delight which entered; a treat for him to enjoy all evening.

"Miss Halcombe, my dear, beautiful as ever."

Ah, that embarrassed blush. She didn't believe him. Pity. If she would let him he would show her exactly what he thought about her.

"Was your journey satisfactory?"

As Marian entered the private room she was very aware of what she was wearing, of what she looked like. She had changed from her travelling clothes into something more suitable, modest and perfunctory. Distantly she wished that she were wearing a more beautiful dress. Fosco was used to entertaining beautiful women. She wondered why she cared. Quickly she pushed the thoughts far to the back of her mind, and reminded herself that she did not want to impress Fosco. Distracted by these thoughts she didn't notice that she had entered the room until she found herself looking straight at him. She had meant to steel herself against the shock like the time she had met up with him in Paris.

Seeing him in such close proximity made her insides lurch strangely. That face she knew, always gentle when looking at her, except when she had betrayed him – only then marred by disappointment – and the odd bitterness in Paris. Those hands she knew, brushing her arm in a passing touch, holding her in his apartment. Those eyes she knew, shining strangely as he looked her over, glinting deviously, full of sadness. Those lips she had known pressed against her own…

"Miss Halcombe, my dear, beautiful as ever."

A blush spread over her cheeks before she could stop it. She was Marian. She did not blush, and she did wish he wouldn't flirt and joke about her appearance, but maybe that was part of her punishment.

"Was your journey satisfactory?"

Marian gave a curt nod and sat down woodenly at the table, "perfectly satisfactory thank you," she replied, mentally adding that she would have preferred not to make it at all.

"And your room?"

Marian looked at him sharply and narrowed her eyes. Fosco merely observed her over his glass of wine wearing a falsely innocent expression. The devilish twinkle in his eye and quirk of his lips gave it away. She couldn't suppress the smile on her own lips.

"It is very beautiful, though there is one unsettling thing about it…"

"Ah!" Fosco put down his glass and flourished his hands, "I knew! These places, they do not understand what a lady needs to be comfortable." He placed his palms flat on the table and leaned in. "The room, she is too big, yes? That is why I requested an adjoining door for your room. More comfortable to share." He grinned and leant back, picking up his glass as he did so. "Do you not think it a good idea Miss Halcombe?"

"Oh yes," she nodded in mock agreement, "but you made one small error Count."

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, "and what is that Miss Halcombe?"

She pretended to look surprised, "Why, the fact that the adjoining door leads to your room."

Only Fosco could make her respond that way. Only he made her feel confident enough to speak so mischievously.

She smiled at his expression so innocently that he laughed.

"Miss Halcombe!" he placed a hand over his heart in mock pain and tilted his head to the ceiling. "You cut me to the core. I forgot how skilled you are at the verbal duel." He dropped his head back and swept his eyes completely up and down her body before meeting her eyes and there was such a spark and electricity that her stomach dropped rapidly. Marian felt her breathing freeze as his gaze caught and lingered. The depth shook her, washed over her, drowning her.

"But so you know Miss Halcombe," came his quiet voice, eyes still locked on her own, "I made no mistake."