He spread his hands. "I need to use what weapons I have."
"No, you need to wave the white flag and surrender."
A pleased smile lifted his lips. "Ah, surrender is such a bonny word."
Her response was unimpressed. "I shall be frank, Mr. Townsend—"
"Anthony."
"Mr. Townsend. I shall be frank because you seem incapable of taking a polite no for an answer."
He snorted. "Polite?"
She ignored him and plowed on. "You're wasting your time pursuing me. I'm devoted to my late husband's memory. Please respect that and ignore my unwise admission of attraction. We met in unusual and dramatic circumstances. Neither of us really knows the other, and I suspect if we'd been introduced in a more prosaic setting, we'd find no particular affinity."
He bowed shortly. "You're brutally clear, my lady."
Fleeting regret darkened her eyes, but her delicate jaw set in a stubborn line. "I…I have no wish to change my life—however enticing the incentive."
He hid a smile. The ruthless tone hadn't lasted long. "I'll call upon you in London."
"Haven't you heard a word I said?"
"You said you mistrust any link formed in such circumstances. I acknowledge the justice of your doubts—and also that we've known each other a mere day. I shall endeavor to prove that we're attracted because of who we are, and not because we've had too much excitement."
She threw her hands up. "Oh, you're impossible. I'll be glad to get back to my real life."
"Will you?" he asked softly.
For a moment, she looked unsure, then her lush mouth firmed. "At least in Mayfair, I'm free of insane plutocrats and their persuasions."
He laughed, enjoying himself. "Yet."
He'd always intended to pursue her, but her confession of a weakness for him invited a more overt wooing. She was a grand little fighter, but he doubted she'd win when Anthony Townsend allied with her own desire against her.
"There's no point continuing. I'm tired, and you're off your head. Good night, Mr. Townsend." With an irritated swish of her skirts, she flounced off. He let her reach the door before he spoke. "Lady Deerham, there is one more thing."
"What is it?" Annoyance roughened her voice.
A man of his size could cross the room in a couple of paces. He caught her arm and using her surprise, swung her around to face him. A gentle push and her back bumped against the closed door. "This."
Furious eyes snapping blue fire focused on his face. "Mr. Townsend, just what on earth do you think you're doing?"
"My dear Lady Deerham, surely it hasn't been that long."
"I'll scream," she warned, trying to slay him with her disapproval. Unfortunately for her, he found her spirit arousing. This close she smelled like a flower garden in spring. He drew that glorious scent deep into his lungs.
"I dare you." One hand pressed her shoulder against the door while the other caught her chin to hold her still.
Not that she was struggling. Which was dashed interesting.
"You are the most provoking man," she muttered.
"That's insane plutocrats for you." He hid a smile as anticipation made his blood rush. "Now stand still so I can kiss you."
"Well, really," she gasped before his lips stole her breath away.
Chapter Eight