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“Women do not generally flee my house in tears for ‘nothing.’”

His head shot up. “She was crying?”

“I believe that’s what they call it when water courses down one’s cheeks and the nose turns a bright red,” his uncle snapped as he stalked down the marble steps.

“Very funny,” Sebastian growled. I’ll never forgive you for this. Never. He tried—and failed—to ignore the guilt trammeling his conscience.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when a nephew of mine drove a lady to tears.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Striding up to him, his uncle grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Good God, have you no soul?”

Sebastian shoved him away. “Deuce take it, she wants me hanged! How do you expect me to react?”

Uncle Lew blinked, then backed up a step. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, she knows I’m her kidnapper. Not just suspects. Knows.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes. She’s been trying for the past two days to trick me into confessing it.”

“Then why the bloody hell have you been spending time with her? You told me to keep her away, and the next thing I know you’re showing up here with her—”

“She came to my workshop that first night they arrived, after you left Charnwood Hall. She accused me, and I…” Let my attraction to her govern my actions. “I convinced her that she was wrong. Or I thought I convinced her. I thought I was safe.” He dragged in a harsh breath. “Obviously, I’m more easily taken in by sweet-faced beauties than I realized. I underestimated her.”

“You? Make an error of judgment? Never!”

Sebastian rapidly tired of his uncle’s sarcasm. “Apparently, you find the possibility of my being hanged amusing.”

His uncle snorted. “She does not want you to hang. The girl is already half in love with you.”

When the very word love made his pulse pound, he scowled, both at his uncle’s blindness and his own. “Be sure to have that carved on my tombstone.”

“You impudent scapegrace—has it not occurred to you why she came here?”

“I know why. For my blood, and she’ll do what she must to get it.”

Uncle Lew crossed his arms over his chest. “I think you are wrong. All she wants is the truth. Because you broke her heart when you abandoned her. It took me only one short conversation to deduce that. She wants to hear why you did it. And she deserves to know. You ought to tell her. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Don’t you think I realize that?” He whirled away from his uncle. “I want to tell her so badly I can taste it.” He planted his hands on the pedestal, staring blindly across at a jungle of rose vines climbing trellises. Some Eden this turned out to be. “But I can’t risk it when her intentions are so uncertain. Too much is at stake, both for me and for Morgan.”

“Then perhaps you should not be seducing the young lady in my conservatory. Or did you think seduction would make her forget what you owe her?”

He stiffened. He couldn’t look at his uncle. The man would read his guilt in his face. “What makes you think I was seducing her?”

“My favorite begonia is on the floor, Lady Juliet’s fichu is draped over my fern, your gloves are on the pedestal, and when she left, she looked decidedly disheveled.”

He winced. “I…she…it’s not what you think.”

“I think you have decided to follow in your father’s footsteps.”

A blinding fury possessed him, but when he spun around to find his uncle regarding him smugly, he realized there was someone else he tended to underestimate.

It took a herculean will to regain control over his anger. “I meant to court her,” he said tersely. “I thought marrying her would make everything right.”

“Was seducing her supposed to further your courtship?”