Courtney Milan - Proof by Seduction  

Praise for
C OURTNEY M ILAN
and Proof By Seduction

One of the finest historical romances Ive read in years. I am now officially a Courtney Milan fangirl.

New York Times bestselling author Julia Quinn

A brilliant debutdeeply romantic, sexy and smart. I couldnt put it down.

New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James

With a tender, passionate romance, a touch of sly humor, and a gruff and incredibly sexy hero, Courtney Milans Proof By Seduction is a delicious read from the first page all the way to the very satisfying ending. If you love historical romance you must read this book!

Elizabeth Hoyt, USA TODAY bestselling author

Sexy, hilarious, and deeply, deeply touching. Courtney Milan writes with the keenest understanding of the heart. It is a clich to say so, but I laughed and I cried. And I cannot wait to read her next book.

Sherry Thomas, author of Private Arrangements (a Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2008)

An extraordinary debut. Courtney Milan is a blazing new talent in the romantic stratosphere. I couldnt put this sparkling, heartfelt, sizzling story down and I loved every minute of it. Warm, witty, wonderful and wise, Proof By Seduction will steal your heart away.

Anna Campbell, multiple-award-winning author of Tempt the Devil

Dear Reader,

Ive always loved science. But as much as I love science, loveof the romantic varietyand science dont often go together.

Perhaps thats why, when I wrote a historical romance, I set myself the hardest task I could imagine. I chose as my hero a rigidly logical marquess, a scientist who retreated behind scientific proof, because he couldnt make a formula out of love.

Gareth Carhart was going to be a hard nut to crack. He needed to learn that some thingssquishy, unscientific concepts like love and friendshipare not susceptible to scientific proof. But how to do this?

Then I imagined my heroine. I knew she was going to shake the foundation of his world. Jenny Keeble needed to teach Gareth how to have funand despite his best efforts, he wasnt going to be able to resist her.

I hope youll have as much fun reading this book as I had writing it.

Courtney Milan

C OURTNEY M ILAN

Proof by Seduction

For Tessa and Amy. You believed in me. You pushed me.
You waved off every setback and squealed for joy when
good things happened. And when I most needed you in
a dark, dark time, you held my hand and kept me going.

Every bookespecially a debut novelowes a debt to an enormous number of people.

This list is lengthy, but not exhaustive:
Tessa and Amy, for everything.

Franzeca Drouin saved me from innumerable errors more times than I can count. David Berry, Rupert Baker and Stephanie Clarke answered strange and nitpicky questions.

Amy Atwell, Jackie Barbosa, Anna Campbell, Lenora Bell, Darcy Burke, Diana Chung, Amanda Collins, Lacey Kaye, Lindsey Faber, Sara Lindsey, Terri Osborn, Elyssa Papa, Janice Rholetter, Erica Ridley, Maggie Robinson and Sherry Thomas all read pages at various points along the way and encouraged me. Kristin Nelson, my extraordinary agent, and Sara Megibow, her awesome assistant, made all my dreams come true, even the ones I was scared to dream.

Finally, thanks to the team at Harlequin Books, particularly my editor, Ann Leslie Tuttle, and Charles Griemsman, for believing in this book and doing such a beautiful job in launching it.

Proof by Seduction

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

London, April, 1838

TWELVE YEARS SPENT PLYING HER TRADE had taught Jenny Keeble to leave no part of her carefully manufactured atmosphere to chance. The sandalwood smoke wafting from the brazier added a touch of the occult: not too cloying, yet unquestionably exotic. But it was by rote that she checked the cheap black cotton draped over her rickety table; routine alone compelled her to straighten her garishly colored wall hangings, purchased from Gypsies.

Every detailthe cobwebs she left undisturbed in the corner of the room, the gauze that draped her basement windows and filtered the sunlight into indirect hazewhispered that here magic worked and spirits conveyed sage advice.

It was precisely the effect Jenny should have desired.

So why did she wish she could abandon this costume? True, the virulently red-and-blue-striped skirt, paired with a green blouse, did nothing to flatter her looks. Layer upon heavy layer obscured her waist and puffed her out until she resembled nothing so much as a round, multihued melon. Her skin suffocated under a heavy covering of paint and kohl. But her disquiet ran deeper than the thick lacquers of cream and powder.

A sharp rat-tat-tat sounded at the door.

Shed worked twelve years for this. Twelve years of careful lies and half truths, spent cultivating clients. But there was no room for uncertainty in Jennys profession. She took a deep breath, and pushed Jenny Keebles doubts aside. In her place, she constructed the imperturbable edifice of Madame Esmerelda. A woman who could see anything. Who predicted everything. And who stopped at nothing.

With her lies firmly in place, Jenny opened the door.

Two men stood on her stoop. Ned, her favorite client, shed expected. He was awkward and lanky, as only a youth just out of adolescence could be. A shock of light brown hair topped his young features. His lips curled in an open, welcoming smile. She would have greeted him easily, but today, another fellow stood behind Ned. The stranger was extraordinarily tall, even taller than Ned. He stood several feet back, his arms folded in stern disapproval.

Madame Esmerelda, Ned said. Im sorry I didnt inform you I was bringing along a guest.

Jenny peered behind Ned. The mans coat was carelessly unbuttoned. Some tailor had poured hours into the exquisite fit of that garment. It was cut close enough to the body to show off the form, but loose enough to allow movement. His sandy-brown hair was tousled, his cravat tied in the simplest of knots. The details of his wardrobe bespoke an impatient arrogance, as if his appearance was little more than a bother, his attention reserved for weightier matters.

That attention shifted to Jenny now, and a shiver raced down her spine. With one predatorial sweep of his eyes, he took in Jennys costume from head to toe. She swallowed.

Madame Esmerelda, Ned said, this is my cousin.

A cold glimmer of irritation escaped the other man, and Ned expelled a feeble sigh.

Yes, Blakely. May I present to you Madame Esmerelda. The monotone introduction wasnt even a question. Madame, this is Blakely. That would be Gareth Carhart, Marquess of Blakely. Et cetera.

A beat of apprehension pulsed through Jenny as she curtsied. Ned had spoken of his cousin before. Based on Neds descriptions, shed imagined the marquess to be old and perhaps a little decrepit, obsessed with facts and figures. Neds cousin was supposed to be coldly distant, frighteningly uncivil, and so focused on his own scientific interests that he was unaware of the people around him.

But this man wasnt distant; even standing a full yard away, her skin prickled in response to his presence. He wasnt old; he was lean without being skinny, and his cheeks were shadowed by the stubble of a man in his prime. Most of all, there was nothing unfocused about him. Shed often thought Ned had the eyes of a terrier: warm, liquid and trusting. His cousin had those of a lion: tawny, ferocious and more than a little feral.

Jenny gave silent thanks she wasnt a gazelle.

She turned and swept her arm in regal welcome. Come in. Be seated. The men trooped in, settling on chairs that creaked under their weight. Jenny remained standing.

Ned, how can I assist you today?