She would have her revenge.

Alice Burton crouched behind the bed in the dark bedchamber temporarily belonging to the target of her ire, her insides burning with righteous anger. How dare he sweet-talk her for months, bring her to his bed, and then refuse to marry her!

Her fists clenched in her lap. How had she been so foolish to believe him? But his honeyed words and obvious interest in her had appealed to her, and she had too easily believed his interest in her went beyond bedding her. But when she had asked him about marriage, he had laughed at her. Laughed. As if she had said the most preposterous thing. She had been such a fool to believe he wanted to marry her.

And now she was ruined.

I will be a fool no more. Mr Fitzwilliam Montgomery would have to pay for what he had done. If he didn't want to do the honourable thing after she asked him, she would force his hand. The plan was flawless, if she might say so herself.

After finding out which room was his, she had snuck inside while everyone at the house party was still enjoying the games night her cousin, Lord Ravenscroft, had arranged. She'd extinguished the fire, leaving only some glowing embers in the grate, and pulled the curtains to ensure no moonlight filtered through.

Fitzwilliam would not know she was there until it was too late. And her friend Olivia knew to send her cousin this way shortly after seeing Fitzwilliam leaving downstairs. Ravenscroft would find them alone in this room, ideally with her arms wrapped around her target, and would quickly force a wedding to save her reputation.

Olivia had asked her if she was certain this was what she wanted. To trap an unwilling man in matrimony. Because she wasn't only dooming him to a marriage he didn't want, she was also dooming herself. Maybe it was her anger talking, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

She wanted to punish him. She wanted him miserable. If that meant she had to be miserable with him, then so be it. It was better than having to admit to a future husband that she had been compromised. Her pride would not permit it.

The muffled sound of voices on the other side of the door made her bend lower behind the bed, making sure she couldn't be seen in the light from the hallway when it opened. Soon, darkness enveloped her again as the door shut.

She heard him approach the bed, his shoes echoing against the wooden floor making her pulse quicken. Glancing up, she could just barely see his silhouette by the bottom of the bed, his back towards her as he appeared to look at the fireplace, probably wondering why it had gone out. From her lower position on the floor, he appeared taller than normal, his shoulders broader.

A twinge of pain made her grimace. She had felt something for this man once. Had dreamed of a future together. She would still have that future, but it would be one neither of them wanted. Did she truly want to do this? Maybe Olivia was right and this plan was fuelled solely by anger and resentment. But she refused to back down.

She would not be discarded.

The dark shade that was her former lover pulled at his cravat until it came loose and he could toss it on the bed. Not long after, his coat, waistcoat, and shirt followed. This was turning out better than she had hoped. With him partially disrobed, her cousin would never accept anything less than marriage. When his hands reached for the buttons of his trousers, she saw her opening. Standing, she hoped he wouldn't scream when he realised he wasn't alone.

"Why don't you let me help you with that?" she said in her most sultry voice, hoping he was arrogant enough to believe she would still come crawling to him for a tumble in bed.

His movements stilled as she stood, but he didn't move. Didn't speak. He was probably dumbfounded by her presence. Walking up to him, she snaked her arms around his neck, focused on her mission. Had he always been this tall?

She silenced the voice in the far recesses of her mind telling her to back down. This was what she wanted. She would bring this bastard to hell with her. Her hand caressed his shoulder and down his chest, coming to rest over his heart, beating steadily under her palm.

"I was hoping you wanted some company tonight," she whispered seductively and was rather pleased when she heard him inhale deeply. This was going so well. Olivia and her cousin should arrive soon, so she had better sell this image.

She leaned up and kissed him. The moment her lips met his, she knew something was wrong. His mouth was firm below hers but did not reciprocate. Alarm bells went off in the back of her head. This was not the man she had given herself to. Pulling back, she stared up at the dark spectre of a man in front of her. Whose room had she mistakenly invaded?

His hand came up to tuck a bent finger under her chin, lifting her face towards him. At least the embers in the grate emitted far too little light for him to possibly recognise her. She ought to get out of there. If she was quick enough, she might escape before Ravenscroft arrived.

"I... I..." she stammered, surprised by the gentleness of the stranger's touch on her face. When his thumb came up to sweep across her lips in a soft caress, her breath hitched. Who must he think she was? Had he expected a lover of his own?

The pad of his thumb was replaced by his lips, and this time when he captured her mouth, the kiss was anything but gentle. It stole her breath away, demanding and consuming. She may not know who he was, but his kiss sent fire burning through her, scorching a trail down to her very core.

His tongue invaded her mouth like a conquering hero, and had his arms not wrapped around her, she feared her knees might have buckled. Nothing had prepared her for this kiss. Not even her time with Fitzwilliam. There was a passion in it, a wild abandon, that appealed to her on a primal level.

Against better judgement, she leaned into the embrace, allowing him to pull her closer. In a way, the darkness and not knowing who he was made it all the more alluring. Forbidden. A spear of desire shot through her as an unmistakable hardness pressed against her abdomen.

He grabbed her bottom and squeezed. On purpose, she was wearing nothing but her white cotton nightdress, and she could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric as he massaged her buttocks. A soft moan escaped her, swallowed up by his mouth on hers.

Embarrassed and shocked by her powerful reaction, she pulled away.

"I'm sorry!" she squealed. "There has been a mistake."

He froze, his face inches from hers and his hands still on her bottom. In the darkness she still couldn't see him, only smell the faint hint of whisky on his breath and the dark scent of his cologne. Slowly, he unhanded her and straightened to his full height. How could she ever have believed him to be Fitzwilliam? He was several inches taller.

"A mistake?" There was something familiar about his dark voice, but the hoarseness made it impossible to match it to its owner.

"Y... Yes. I shouldn't be here. I need to—"

A commotion out in the hallway interrupted her excuse.

She was out of time.

The door burst open and her cousin, Viscount Ravenscroft, entered. Holding a candle, he raised it higher to illuminate more of the room, and his gaze found her. They narrowed as he turned his head to the man next to her.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

Swallowing back her automatic retort—because she had no excuse—Alice slowly turned to see who she had been kissing so wantonly. The candlelight seemed to mock her as it revealed the last man she would have expected. Her heart, already racing from the kiss, nearly stopped altogether.

"Richmond!" Ravenscroft barked when no one answered him, and Alice could see Olivia hovering in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. "Want to tell me why you're alone with my cousin... and... damn it, nearly naked!"

The Marquess of Richmond remained still and quiet, unnervingly calm in the face of his friend's accusations. How was it possible that this man, who had kissed her with such passion mere moments ago, now regarded her with such distaste? He looked as cool and distant as he always did, like he considered himself above the situation.

Above her.

"Alice?" Ravenscroft took a few more steps into the room, his face hesitant now. "Are you all right?"

Turning her back to the insufferable marquess, she rushed over to her cousin and threw herself in his arms, hoping he would allow her a few moments to collect herself. He embraced her gingerly, probably worried she was upset. She was. But not for the reasons he might think

Everything had gone wrong. So terribly wrong.

~~~~~~