So when he inquired how she felt about a country ramble, she simply refused, telling him in no uncertain terms how she felt about being confined to a car with a well-known thief and philanderer. “Philanderer?” He caught the word with an expression of surprise. “I’ll have you know, Miss Fox, that it’s been months since my last—” “Confession?” she interjected. “Affair,” he corrected pointedly. “Too busy stealing women’s purses to dig a little deeper and steal their virtue?” she inquired. “I’ve never…” He halted, his voice betraying an anger that was untypical of him. “I’ve never touched a woman inappropriately, nor have I ever forced myself on a member of the fairer sex.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And I’ll have you know I’ve never snatched a purse in my life.” Touché, she thought with satisfaction. For some reason, she enjoyed getting a rise out of him, and when she did, the consequent darkening of his brow satisfied her to no end. They were seated on a stone bench in the gardens, watching the family poodle gamboling along the shrubs.
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