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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Chapter One

Lady Theodousia Crawford Langley lay back against the pillows in the actually quite nice bed provided for her by the inn on this evening in early August 1811. She was alone in the room allocated to her, having sent her own maid, Eva, to tend to the bedtime needs of her six-year-old half brother, little William, whose governess/nanny had been lost to them during the voyage from Virginia to England. Relieved of company, Dousia was free to relax at the end of what had been one of the most trying days of the past few months.

Silent tears flowed down her cheeks. She was lost in her own thoughts. It had been a miserable few months since her father had died at the hands of a midnight housebreaker. St. Stephen's night was a time that she knew that she would never forget. She only wished that she could. But, that was not a luxury that was to be allowed her. Dousia had walked into her father's library discovering her father and the housebreaker-- a large, vile, man by the name of Douglas Smithson--as Smithson was stabbing her father. The murderous thief had then come after her, demanding the key to the strong box, and had threatened to kill both her and William. She had possessed no choice except to fight back, even though the odds against her had been astronomical. Two men had died that night, her father and his assailant. She had avenged her father and defended her own life and the life of her brother when she had been able to use Smithson's own knife against him. But, that struggle had cost her, dearly. Dousia had been so severely beaten by Smithson that the doctors had held out little hope that she would live. Against all odds, she had survived.

A week before her father's death, word had arrived from England that her grandfather had died. The tenth Duke had been ninety-one years of age when he passed into eternity. Her uncle Jonathan then assumed the Ducal title. The title of Marquis, with the lands and income associated with that title, had come to her father. That title now belonged to William. Before he died, her father had put into place plans to return to England. Because her father could not fulfill those plans, she had brought William to England. It was important that William was raised to know his duties in regards to both the property and titles that were his and the Dukedom he was heir to.

Leaving Virginia was the hardest thing that she had ever done. She had sold the family plantation. She had sold the shipyards and the shipping line which had been her legacy from her uncle Peter Richardson and her late husband. She had sold most of her furniture, bringing only the paintings, her books, and an array of personal items that she simply couldn't part with. There was now nothing for her in Virginia. She would have to make a new life for herself and for William in England. William would be at his majority in fifteen years and her duties as his guardian would be over.

Tears were a luxury in which Dousia very infrequently indulged. William needed to have her as a strong person to rely upon. It would not be a good thing to allow William to see her sad and weepy. He had experienced enough sadness in his short life. So, the majority of the time, she kept her tears bottled up inside and made a conscious effort to present a calm and even happy face to him. Eva, who had been Dousia's nurse, and who knew her better than anyone else, continually told her that it did no good to bottle up the tears, that she should allow herself a good long cry and get it over with. Maybe there was something to that idea. If only she could have a month or two alone in order to find out. She might be able to cry herself dry by then. Maybe.

She sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. It did no good for anyone for her to cry over the past. Dousia gently laid the book down on the night table.

A well modulated, cultured, deep bass voice said firmly, "Kemper said that you were very beautiful. I see that he, for once, was quite accurate."

Dousia turned her head quickly to see a tall, well dressed, blonde, bearded man with a long scar on the left side of his face, standing there looking at her with undisguised desire written clearly on his face. He was a quite handsome man except for that scar. But the scar told her that he had seen violence and had survived it. She fought back the fear she felt. This was definitely not the time for hysterics.

She hadn't heard anyone come in. Besides, she was certain that Eva had left the door locked when she had left the room. So, this man had to have a key. If so, there was definitely a problem. Screaming for help would not be necessarily productive. If he had a key, that meant he was in collusion with the innkeeper. Dousia had dealt with fortune hunters in their attempts to compromise her into marriage before. This could be one extremely elaborate attempt to get control of her funds. Or it could be something more sinister. But screaming for help might only play into his hands and make this situation worse. She would have to deal with it herself, quietly.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded quietly, but firmly.

The man smiled and said indulgently, "How else does one enter a locked room? With a key, of course."

"If you've come to rob me, I'm afraid that you've picked the wrong room. I haven't more than a very few pounds in gold. The bit of jewelry in the case has more sentimental value than actual worth," she replied tightly, trying not to let her fear show. "It would be far better for you if you simply put the key down on the bureau and left the room," she added calmly.

"Kemper said that you were a beautiful woman. I'm glad this time to see that he wasn't selling me a bill of goods. I shall be most happy to fulfill my end of our agreement. You will like the little house on Lisle Street. During pleasure, lass, you will lack nothing."

"Get out of here!" she ordered fiercely, her fear of the man growing by each passing moment. "This is my room. What do you think that you are doing here? Get out!" Angrily she picked up her book and hurled it at him.

He easily caught the book. "Shame on you. Books make very poor projectiles. If you were going to throw something, you should have chosen something harder. I see I shall have to teach you more respect for property, especially if it is my property."

"Go away!"

The man only laughed, as though he thought this was a game. "I like a woman with spirit," he said strongly. He looked at her for a long moment, his face taking on the look of a man who greatly desires a particular woman. It had been years since she had seen that look on the face of a man in her bedchamber.

"Leave my chamber at once, sir!" she demanded.

"I'm afraid that I can't oblige you in that, lass," he drawled. "These are my rooms."

"That is a matter of contention! I believe that I have a prior claim since I bespoke these rooms this afternoon!"

He laughed quietly. "Ah, we have a conflict in title. How shall we then settle the matter?"

"I cannot settle anything until I am decently dressed," she said crossly. "Pray step out into the hall. Then we can go see the innkeeper's wife, and consult my companions in this matter," she suggested. "Between the two sources, I believe we should be able to settle the matter of who has rights to this chamber."

"Oh, I do believe that everything we need to settle we may do so more efficiently with you in the state of dress in which you currently find yourself," he offered lightly.

"Since you will not leave, at least act like the gentleman which your clothes and voice proclaim you to be. Be so kind as to turn your back," she stated.

Justin laughed, good naturedly. "Bashful. I say, that is a new wrinkle for one of your profession. Are you innovative in passion, lass?"

"Sir, you obviously have the wrong room. Pray, go speak with the innkeeper," she said. The effort to remain calm was extremely taxing. "I have engaged these rooms for the night."

"I have no intention, lass, of depriving you of a bed, tonight," he drawled in amusement. "I know from experience that the bed in this room is plenty large enough to comfortably sleep two people. Although I doubt that either of us will be doing that much in the way of sleeping tonight."

Her voice trembled with anger as she spoke, "Pray avert your eyes, sir! I do not appreciate being ogled as though I were a piece of merchandise of which you were debating the purchase."

"No, not debating. I have already agreed to pay generously for your time. Your contract with me was contingent upon my acceptance of you. Let me remind you of the terms: three thousand pounds per annum during pleasure, plus a wardrobe allowance, a carriage and team at your disposal, and a house with staff. In addition, you will have an annuity of five hundred pounds for two years after we part or until you find another means of support. So, let us not waste more time in consummating the bargain," Justin said as he removed his coat and unknotted his cravat. He walked over to a chair and began to drape the garments over the back of the armless oak chair.

"I am not for sale, sir. You are obviously in the wrong room, with the wrong woman. I am not the whore whom you believe me to be," she said as strongly as she dared. "Please, sir, do not disrobe!"

Justin read the title of the book Dousia had been apparently reading. "Crying over the heroine's fate in a novel. My, what tender sensibilities you have, lass. That is something which is rare in a person of your profession--both the ability to read and the tender sensibilities," he said amusedly as he looked down on her blushing face. "However, in keeping with your extreme modesty, I will turn my back to allow you the privacy you seek."

Dousia watched him turn and step several paces away. She debated for only a moment before she threw back the bedclothes and climbed out of bed. She reached for the emerald green silk brocade wrapper. There was a pistol under her pillow. She was prepared to defend herself. Yet, she needed to resolve this peaceably if possible. The wrapper wasn't much in the way of covering, but it was much better than the whisper thin silk chemise she slept in.

It was only then that Dousia realized that he had seen her reflection in the large mirror over the dressing table. The only saving factors in this whole situation were that Eva would be returning soon and that, if necessary, she could put a ball into the man.

Justin crossed over to her. "You have wasted time. You'll just have to take off those clothes. But they are beautiful. And expensively made. Your taste is exquisite. I'm going to enjoy showing you off in town. You should be decked out in silks and jewels." Justin pulled her gently into his arms.

Although he was holding her gently, she could feel the raw strength in his embrace. She told herself that it would be a mistake to arouse his anger without having the pistol firmly in her hands. He lightly stroked her face. Her chin tilted upwards in a combination of defiance and invitation. His fingers entwined themselves among the strands of her auburn hair as he pulled her head towards his.

Dousia meant to offer another protest. Yet, he didn't give her the chance.

Justin settled his mouth against hers. Dousia felt herself whirling in a whirlwind of passion that was stunningly powerful.

He kissed her deeply, possessively, as if he had every right to demand her passion. His mouth moved on hers with an overwhelming experience. Any resistance she might have offered was drowned in the warm and totally masculine taste of him. Kissing him was like taking whiskey. She burned and was quickly intoxicated.

Against her better judgment, she was engulfed by a wave of desire such that she had not felt since Thomas died. She sternly admonished herself that she could not allow herself to feel anything for this man. But, somehow, her body had a will of its own. It had been a very long time since she had felt desire, and her body responded to his nearness as a drowning man would respond to a lifeline.

This woman was sweet. Despite her profession, there was no practiced seduction, no well thought out plot to woo him in her response. He felt her need, her yearning for him. And it excited him all the more. The bed was just behind them. He wanted her there, under him, her legs wrapped around him, sounds of pleasure coming from her as he possessed her fully.

He pulled her more tightly against him. He felt her breasts flatten against his chest. He continued kissing her.

Dousia found the strength to pull away from him. Her eyes sparkling with anger she could no longer conceal, she said, "I do not know for whom you have mistaken me. I do not care to have that information. But, you have made an error of monstrous proportions. Let us make the effort to keep your error from growing past all reasonable means of dealing, shall we?"

Then Justin caught sight of the plain yellow gold band on the third finger of her left hand. "You are married?" he asked coldly.

"Widowed," she answered tersely.

"I suppose that he died bravely in the service of King and Country, perhaps on the peninsula?" Justin asked with just an edge of cynicism in his otherwise amused voice.

She frowned. "Thomas would have rather been strung up by his thumbs rather than to have served in any army. No, he was strictly a sea man," she replied reflectively.

"Under whose command?" Justin demanded.

"Would you, pray, leave my chamber?" she added with controlled anger in her voice. Yet, she wasn't sure whether she was more angry at herself for revealing so much to him, or him for being in her room. "I am not the woman whom you believe me to be."

Justin smiled broadly. "You are quite convincing. I have to allow. You are doing a very fine imitation of a Lady of Quality. Your accent is ever so slightly off, though... You must have studied with a very good diction coach. Most people wouldn't pick up on your muted accent. I cannot quite place it. Where are you from?"

"My maid shall be returning within a matter of moments. I would rather that she does not find you here. She has been with me since my childhood, I would hate to have to explain this situation to her as I fail to understand it myself," Dousia said in as composed of a voice as she could muster. "Although I am hesitant to call this much attention to this situation, she shan't hesitate to scream for help. I think that we would both rather not have this incident more widely known than is necessary. Although your being in here is a mistake, you have compromised me just by your being here and taking these liberties. Since I do not wish to remarry, it would be better if you left now, while you can do so without adding further insult to the injury which you have dealt me."

"If you really wanted me to go, you could scream for help," Justin said with a small laugh in his voice as he took her hand and pulled her to him.

"Oh certainly, and allow this incident to be publicly known! No reputation could survive that scandal."

"Worried about your reputation, are you?"

"A woman's reputation is a fragile thing, sir!"

"I can see your pulse beating away faster right here." He lightly stroked her temple. "Your heart began to race when you looked at me. And," he said as one hand lightly, gently, almost reverently, made its way between the brocade of her wrapper and the thin silk of her chemise, "you want me to make love with you. So, stop playing hard to get. Cease talking about marriage. You knew when you first traded your favors for support that you had put the honor of marriage forever behind you."

He removed his hand from in between them and pulled her closer to him. His hands found her hips and gently forced them forward so that their loins pressed tightly together. "Lass, in case you haven't noticed, I desire you, greatly," he told her in husky amusement.

His lips met hers with a caress so light, so tender that she could not stop the wave of feeling that swept over her. His lips felt so right, so warm against hers.

Feeling as though her knees would collapse from beneath her, she rested her hands on his arms. Her arms moved up to rest on his chest, as if to push him away. Yet, as his mouth opened over hers, his tongue lightly tracing the outline of her lips before demanding entrance into the dark, secret places of her mouth, she found that she could not push him away. She did not want to push him away. He was right: she wanted him, much more than she had ever wanted any man, except Thomas. Maybe even more than she had wanted Thomas, her traitorous heart suggested.

Parting her lips, in order to protest, was a mistake of the first order. His mouth was hot, and hard, and hungry, as he spun a web of deep kisses that left her with only the ability to mew little moans of her growing ecstasy. His hands, like his mouth, were hot and hard. Without her realizing it, he had unfastened her wrapper and had forced it to the floor. The warmth of his hands through the fine silk of her chemise sent tiny thrills of desire throughout her body. Unwittingly, she began to tremble with the excitement he was creating within her.

Justin, feeling her trembling, pulled away from her slightly, in order to look at her. Her eyes were glazed over with desire. He laughed triumphantly. "Now, lass, tell me that you are not more than willing to take me to your bed. Tell me that you fail in longing to lie in my arms, to have me stroke you, to kiss you, to pleasure you as you pleasure me."

She cleared her throat. "Desire is insignificant. I am not the woman whom you believe me to be," she told him, spacing her words for emphasis. "Pray do not compound your error."

He laughed, but there was as much anger in his tone as there was amusement. "Little liar. Don't you think that you are doing this a bit too brown. We both know that we are going to be in bed. I will make your blood sing, sweet lass. Why deny the truth of what you are feeling?"

Justin's attention was so focused on her face that he didn't see the hand that rose to forcibly strike his face, throwing him slightly off balance. Now, he was angry.

She could tell by the way that he clinched his jaw. He caught her hands in one of his. "Is that your game, you little hellcat?" he bit out angrily. Justin saw the look of stark terror in her eyes as she cringed as though she expected to be struck. He was instantly ashamed of himself. He had never given any woman, not even a lightskirt, cause to fear him.

His voice softened. "Well, you will have to do without force while we are together, pretty lass. My apologies to you, if that is something that you require."

"There are not enough vile, despicable, names in the world to call you!" she bit out.

"Now, now, lass. I'm not going to let you goad me into anger. I have never struck a woman in my life. And I have no intention of starting now." He untied the ribbon at her throat and pushed the chemise from her shoulders. The garment fell in a puddle around her feet, in spite of her trying to catch it.

"You are vile!" she replied in as strong of a voice as she could muster as she reached for the covering of her chemise.

Justin laughed quietly. "You are beautiful, lass. And you talk so sweetly," he replied mockingly. "Your words, my dear lass, are at odds with your tone of voice. So husky, so full of passion." He picked her up into his arms and carried her the few steps to her bed.

She began to beat on him with her fists as he lowered her to the, already turned back, bed. "Please, sir, do not," she begged as the tears which she had been controlling began to fall. "This is all a mistake. I am not the woman whom you believe me to be."

"Stop with the games. Verbiage, lass, does not arouse me," Justin said quietly, but firmly as he began unbuttoning his shirt. The large expanse of curly blonde hair that graced his chest gradually became visible as he undid button after button, then peeled off his shirt, allowing it to drop to the floor.

She should have reached for the gun. She told herself that, but she could not help but stare at his beautiful chest.

He joined her on the bed. Laying beside her, taking her into his arms, he said, his voice husky with desire, "Now, kissing you, is another matter entirely." His lips met hers.

This time, although the tenderness was still there, the caresses were of a more demanding nature. There were fiery kisses awakening in her the full extent of her still dormant desires. One last searing kiss, then, his mouth moved lower, marking a trail of light kisses from her mouth, down her throat. His hands were on the move, leaving behind sinews singed with the fire of the passion he was eliciting from her. Her breasts ached from his caresses. The mouth that had been plundering her mouth now was worshipping her breasts. Slowly, rhythmically, he took one nipple and then the other into his mouth and began to suck each one in turn.

His hands moved slowly over her hips, then to her thighs.

She stiffened as his fingers found the soft recesses between her thighs. All she knew was that she should stop him, but her traitorous body refused to take action as his fingers teased and excited her.

He raised his mouth to hers once more. And once more, his caress sent her senses reeling with the passion he was able to arouse in her. She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words came out as merely disjointed and unintelligible moans against his lips. An intense feeling of desire was building in her. And then she was swept away on a wave that crested abruptly. She gasped, her whole body stiffening and arching against him.

He looked at her for the longest moment. That she had reached satisfaction so quickly excited him.

"Oh, lass, I need to be inside you when that happens again," he said quietly with a self-deprecating laugh as he forced himself away from her. "I wanted to give you more pleasure. But, you have me acting like a callow lad. You and I, my pretty lass, will have all night to explore each other."

He rose and stepped away from the bed in order to move to the chair that sat across the room so that he could remove his boots. "You are clever, minx. How are you at the role of valet?" he asked as he sat down. "Get over here and help me with my boots. The sooner that we get this done, we can get back to the matter of more important matters of pleasuring one another."

Justin began to tug at his boots. His head snapped up with the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked. There she was, sitting, naked, on the bed, with a very deadly looking, oak-handled, dueling pistol pointed straight at his chest.

"If this is some idea of a joke, lass, it is in profoundly poor taste," he said firmly. Justin's eyes glittered with rage. His body was tensed for action. She was glad that she was out of his reach. If she hadn't been, she knew that he would have taken the gun from her. Or at least, he would have tried.

"I assure you, I find nothing in the least humorous about this contretemps."

His eyes swept over her body. She felt her face grow hot. Seldom had she been as conscious of her own femininity as she had been during the last half-hour.

She cleared her throat. "You have placed me in a most uncomfortable position," she said flatly.

He just looked at her. "Listen, lass, there is no need for you to hold that pistol on me. I will not harm you."

"You will forgive my natural skepticism on that topic, as you have already invaded my person. Now, if you would be so kind as to rise slowly from that chair and walk over to the wall?" she replied as she motioned toward the wall with the pistol.

"Come on, lass. You know that you will not shoot me," he said in a reasonable tone. "Pray, do not do anything which you shall regret later. Just lay the pistol down. You do not wish to shoot me."

"I shouldn't wager my life on that, were I you. The idea of putting a hole in your supercilious person holds a great deal of appeal," she said, her voice in control, but her green eyes glittering in anger.

"You'd hang for it."

"I think not. There isn't a court in the land that would convict a lady for defending her honor."

"Lady?" he retorted. "Now that is rather doing it too brown. If you are a Lady, then I am the King of Siam."

She smiled wryly. "That would explain your arrogance. Forgive me for not recognizing you, your highness," she mocked, a small smile coming across her face. "But, you will forgive me as I had rather imagined you differently. However, that would explain your arrogance in dealing with women."

"Put the pistol down lass. Then we'll talk this out," Justin urged.

"No. Now, as you value your life, move very slowly over to the wall," she urged.

"Lass, is there any need for you to enact a Cheltenham tragedy over this?"

Her eyes grew hard. "Cheltenham tragedy, indeed," she dismissed bitterly. "Now move over to the wall," she commanded.

He sat smiling at her. "And if I refuse to dance to your tune?" he queried softly, with the barest edge of prideful defiance in his voice.

"Do not be deceived into thinking that I will fail to shoot you. I shall defend myself... The Good Lord knows that you shall not be the first man whom I have sent directly to hell," she said in a tone so cold that it sent chills down his spine.

Justin wondered for a moment just what variety of trouble he had landed himself into this time. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the lass told the truth about having killed before. Nor was there any doubt that she would do so, again, if he happened to give her cause. It would be just too ironic if he had survived all those years at sea to now be killed by a deranged redheaded bit of Muslin at an Inn.

"Even if I were a bad shot, which I am not, I could not fail to hit my target at this distance. Be advised that if you do not immediately follow my instructions, you will be wagering your life. I do not give you favorable odds of success," she continued coldly as she watched his expression change from one of assessment to a look of almost boredom. She watched as he rose from the chair and walked over to the wall. "I do not wish to gaze upon your face, nor do I care to feel your eyes upon my nakedness," she chided. "Turn to face the wall. Place your nose upon the wall, then place your hands one on either side of your head. Place the palms against the wall. And, pray, sir, do not stir at all from that position or I will shoot you."

"If you intend to search my purse, you will not find more than a hundred pounds contained there. That, my fair lass, is a paltry sum over which to risk either a prolonged stay in Newgate or transportation to Australia," Justin informed her tightly. "I would wager that transportation would be the penalty. They need women in Australia. It is a hard country, populated with murderers, thieves and cutthroats. You should feel right at home."

"For someone at the business end of a pistol, you have a remarkably bold and insulting tongue," she replied caustically. "One would almost think that you were courting death."

"And for a thief, you have a remarkably beautiful body," he replied in a sneering voice. "But then again, you know that. How many other men have you lured with it, then robbed?"

"I am not a thief! And, I most assuredly am not the whore you seem to believe me to be."

"My relief is measurable," he replied quietly. "I wonder what the court will think of your denial. I should doubt that they would find it more creditable than I am finding it. Yes, I would definitely urge the court to furnish a sentence of transportation. And your friend, Kemper, would be wise to emigrate voluntarily. I intend to see him pay for this outrage."

"I do not know anyone by the name of Kemper... Now, do be silent!" she urged strongly.

"Imagine three months aboard a ship confined with ten to fifteen other women in an area smaller than this room. The food would be maggot riddled. Female convicts are considered by the officers aboard the ships to be rare sport to be passed about like the common lightskirts that they, for the most part, are."

"Pray, do me the courtesy of remaining silent. I am so out of countenance with you at the moment, it would take truly very little further provocation to compel me to shoot you," she replied tightly.

The silence in the room was broken only by her breathing. Justin wondered if he should try to take the pistol away from her. But, he decided that it might be better to wait for a less dangerous opportunity. He wasn't exactly enamored by the notion of ending his life in this room.

A perfunctory knock came at the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Eva, my lady," came the reply in the voice of an American woman.

"Come in Eva, but quickly."

Justin heard the door open and close.

"Are you injured?" the woman called Eva asked in shocked tones.

"Just get the other pistol, Eva. Hold it on him. I have to dress," Dousia said quietly. "If he moves, shoot him."

Justin heard the clicking sound of a pistol being armed.

"You, serving girl, Eva, do not make the mistake of becoming an accomplice to this illegal act of your mistress'," Justin warned softly.

"You have the gall to talk about an illegal act?" Eva replied quietly, but with menace in her voice. "You rapist! Despoiler of virtuous women! They ought to string you up by your manhood. Death is too good for you," Eva replied sharply.

"Evangeline!" Dousia chided strongly after she had thrown back on her chemise and her wrapper. As far as clothing went, it wasn't a good deal, yet she had often seen women at balls wearing less. Besides, she could hardly manage the rows of hooks on her gowns by herself and dear Eva could not both help her and keep an eye on the man. "That is quite enough. There is no need for you to carry on so. The filing of charges in this matter is an option to which I am not prepared to commit, just now."

Justin made a choking sound. "I am warning you, lass, if this is a portion in an elaborate extortion scheme, you have picked the wrong mark. I will not be blackmailed. Kemper should have warned you of that when he promoted this little scheme."

"What is he talking about, my lady?" Evangeline demanded in genuine puzzlement.

"Eva, if you would be so good as to fetch my companions. I feel in need of their advice at the moment. I am quite at a loss about how to deal with this."

"Yes, my lady," Eva replied quietly.

"And Eva, please, keep this matter as quiet as possible. I have no need to tell you that if any hint of this became common knowledge that it would ruin me in the eyes of society beyond redemption. I don't wish to cause embarrassment to my family."

"Are you certain that you wish to be alone with him?" Eva asked quietly.

"No. I don't wish to be alone with the man. Yet, I believe that I will have no further trouble with him. Not, at least, while I have a loaded pistol in my hand. He gives no evidence of possessing a desire for an immediate death."

"I'll be going, then," Eva said resignedly. "But be careful."

"I shall," Dousia assured her maid calmly.

After the door opened and closed, Justin remarked quietly. "So, you are concerned with causing embarrassment to your family? Shouldn't you have thought about that before you first went into keeping?"

"Hold your tongue, sir!" she warned quietly as she moved a chair to a good position and took a seat.

"If this isn't a robbery, and you aren't after blackmail, then it must be ransom," Justin said quietly. "Yes, that would make sense. Except that my steward, as well as my solicitor, has instructions never to pay ransom demands."

"Kindly re-arrange your thinking, sir. I am the injured party here, not yourself. So, kindly stop casting me in the role of villainess. Remember, you were the one who invaded my bedchamber. You were the one who forced your attentions upon me, after I asked you to leave," she said calmly. "And you deserve everything that is coming to you. I am simply not certain that I am prepared to endure the necessary scandal."

"I do not recall using force," he said smoothly. "All I did was touch you and you melted in my arms. Remember?"

Only too well, she thought. Only too well. She cleared her throat. "Pray oblige me by keeping your mouth closed!" she said angrily. "I have heard quite enough of your unfounded accusations and threats to last at least one lifetime."

The silence in the room was finally broken when the knock came at the door. Justin heard the door open and close.

"Oh, my dear!" a very cultured female voice which Justin found familiar said in concern, "Are you uninjured?"

"The only irreparable damage is to my pride, my lady," the lass replied quietly.

Tony Blythe stood back, surveying the room. He didn't miss any of the details: the bed which was now in complete disarray, the man's coat draped hurriedly over the back of a chair, the snowy linen shirt on the floor beside the bed, Dousia's state of dishabille, and the blonde, well muscled man who was facing the wall without his shirt, but still wearing his breeches and one of his boots.

"My lady," Tony said gently as he handed her a square of fine linen, "give me the pistol and dry your tears. I will protect you."

"No, Sir Antony," Dousia said in a very small voice Justin had to strain to hear, "I will keep my pistol. I feel safer when I am holding it."

"Listen to me, my lady," Tony commanded, "I understand how you must be feeling. However, I am asking you to trust me to protect you. There are matters to be settled here. Let us conduct this unpleasant affair with a modicum of civility."

"I am not feeling in the least civil at the moment, Sir Antony," Dousia replied sharply. "In fact, I am feeling monstrously uncivil and put upon."

Lady Margaret said quietly, with a good deal of sorrow in her voice, "I am sorry, my dear. None of this would have happened had I been a proper chaperone to you. The blame is mine."

Dousia made a choking sound. "No! Please, Maggie dear, do not blame yourself. This is not your fault. I wanted to be alone. I sent Eva to tend to William. While I was in bed, that man came into the room. He has a key. Do not hold yourself responsible."

Lady Margaret was shocked. "He came into the room while you were in bed?"

"Yes," Dousia's voice was choked, but she was evidently making a massive effort to pull herself together. "I will spare your blushes in not recounting to you the events which followed."

Tony suggested strongly, "Let us speak plainly to one another. This is far too important for us to try to cloak our meanings in polite little phrases. It is necessary that I understand the scope of what has happened here." Tony continued solicitously, tenderly, "It is important, my lady, that I know, otherwise, I would not ask this. It may become necessary for me to put a ball in his heart. I should not want to do that if taking him out of the way would cause you later embarrassment. Were you...? Did he...?"

"There is no need to stumble over words, my lord..." She sighed then continued, "There was no consummation. I was able to gain access to my pistol when the man paused in his...familiarities...to remove his boots."

"Familiarities?" Lady Margaret repeated, hollowly.

Dousia looked at Maggie Blythe. "For God's sake, Maggie, must you hear all the insalubrious details?" she asked in exasperation. "I never expected missish airs from you, of all people."

"My apologies, my dear," Maggie Blythe replied gently.

"Please forgive me for snapping at you, Maggie dear. I am quite over set."

"That's perfectly understandable, my dear," Maggie said lowly as she wrapped an arm around Dousia. "You have every right to be upset."

Tony asked again, clarifying the details, "There is no possibility that he might have gotten you with child? You are certain?"

"Tony, I am a widow, six and twenty years old. I know quite well how children are conceived. This fiasco did not come to that," she replied tightly. No, not quite, but it would have, she thought, if he hadn't stopped to remove his boots.

"Thank God!" Lady Margaret replied.

Tony replied strongly. "Please, my lady, give me the pistol. If you were to accidentally discharge that, we would be unable to keep this incident quiet."

There was silence for a moment, then Dousia spoke calmly, "Eva, take the pistol. Place it with the mate for it. Keep the box open. If there is further trouble, shoot to disable, but not to kill. Understood?"

"Yes."

Dousia said dryly, "You, by the wall, you may turn around now. No one is going to put a ball into your worthless person, unless you make that action necessary."

Lady Margaret gasped when she saw his face.

"Hullo, Sir Antony, Lady Margaret," Justin said quietly.

"Good God! Rivington!" Tony replied quietly. "I mean, Lytton."

Chapter Two

Dousia's attention went from one face to another to the third. Shock and dismay were written on the faces of the Blythes. Contrition and embarrassment on the face of the man whom Tony had called Rivington, then Lytton. The man's right cheek where she had hit him was showing all the signs of developing into a rather nasty bruise. Dousia was glad that she had gotten at least one good blow in.

Tony walked over to the bed. He picked up the shirt from where it lay on the floor and tossed it to Justin. "For God's sake, Justin, cover yourself, man!" Tony said angrily.

"Justin Rivington?" Dousia asked, "Captain Rivington of the Royal Navy?"

"Thank you, Tony," Justin replied with a tight smile as he caught the shirt and quickly threw it on, then turned away to button it and to tuck the tails into his breeches. "Lately of the Royal Navy," Justin answered her.

"Merciful Heavens!" Dousia replied, in dismay.

"Would you care to tell your side of the story, Justin?" Tony asked too quietly.

"I don't believe that it is fit for the ears of your lady," Justin said reluctantly.

"Oh, just spit it out, man! This seems to be the evening for ladies to hear about or to be involved in unsuitable things," Tony retorted. "Including the viewing of your naked chest. So tell your story."

"This all is a terrible misunderstanding. I was supposed to meet a woman here. Her ladyship met the description which I was given of the woman."

"That doesn't explain how you got a key to this room," Tony replied.

"I lease this room from Robards, on a permanent basis. It makes a good stopping place between Lytton Hall and London. He's supposed to keep it available for me at all times."

"The Devil!" Tony replied angrily. "I'll have his hide for a tambourine!"

"Settle down, Tony," Dousia urged, her voice strangely calm. "This is just a case of the landlady trying to make a little extra money. I'm sure that she didn't expect his lordship to arrive. There was obviously a miscommunication."

Lady Margaret smiled tightly. "I am not certain that I could exercise such Christian charity of extending the benefit of doubt were I in your position."

Dousia sighed. "I am merely trying to explore the possibilities. At this point, the damage has been done. What good would it do to close my mind to there being a reasonable explanation to this fiasco?"

"Now, Justin, finish your story. Is her ladyship's version of the events accurate?" Tony asked pointedly.

"Yes. But, you must remember that I was expecting to meet a saucy, redheaded lightskirt. Everything seemed to fit that description. I had no reason to believe that the woman would fail to meet me here," Justin explained.

"Especially not with three thousand pounds per annum hanging in the balance," Dousia added sharply.

Justin smiled tightly in acknowledgment. "True."

"Three thousand pounds?" Maggie echoed quietly. "What do you mean?"

"His lordship seems to be a quite generous man," Dousia said in amusement. "Three thousand pounds per annum was the sum which he had contracted to furnish to his new mistress during pleasure. From what I can determine, the arrangement was made through some sort of middleman. His lordship had never met the woman. This meeting was supposed to be some variety of an examination of goods and services."

"This situation is untenable," Tony said firmly.

Justin sighed. "I am aware of that. I came looking for a mistress and found, instead, a wife."

"I don't suppose that we could simply forget that the events of tonight have occurred and go on with our lives as usual?" Dousia asked, a hopeful note in her voice.

The room was dead silent in shock.

"No. I did not think that would be a viable solution in any of your minds," she continued. "But, it seemed more palatable than any of the other options."

"Really?" Justin drawled. "You didn't appear to find my caresses unpalatable."

"I suppose that there is always suicide..." she said quietly, giving evidence of merely thinking aloud.

Justin stiffened. "I will not allow you to kill yourself," he said strongly.

She smiled at him and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I assure you that I have no desire to shuffle off this mortal coil..."

"It is in bad taste to even mention doing yourself in," Justin said strongly.

"As I said," she said in her small voice as she smiled genuinely, "before I was so rudely interrupted, I have no desire to kill myself. However, if you should opt to pursue that action on your own behalf, I would not weep too copiously over your grave."

Justin moved across the room towards her.

"Make one more move towards her and you are dead," Eva announced firmly.

Justin turned to face the maid who had been lurking in the darkness of the corner. It was only then that he realized that she was a light skinned, quite pretty negro woman aged somewhere in her middle to late forties.

Dousia sighed. "Evangeline, put away the pistol! I doubt that I shall have any further trouble with his lordship. His reputation precedes him, proclaiming him to be heroic indeed. Captain Rivington's exploits are legendary."

"Yes, my lady," Eva said quietly, but not happily.

"And please go ask the landlord for a bottle of brandy, and four glasses. Make that five. You could use a bracer yourself. This is going to be a long evening," she said quietly. "I have a feeling that we all could use a stiff drink."

Eva put the pistol back in the box and closed it. Then she turned to make her way to the door.

"And Eva," Dousia said quietly.

"Yes, my lady."

"Thank you," Dousia said with a genuine smile of affection. "I do not know what I would do without you."

The maid smiled back at her mistress. "I'll go fetch the spirits."

"Have one of the footmen carry it up for you. The tray will be far too heavy for a woman to carry," Dousia advised.

Eva smiled, but said nothing as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Justin remarked derogatorily, "What a dragon!"

"That dragon, as you so charmingly put it, was my nurse. She would rather die than to see me hurt in any way. Her loyalty to me is absolute as is mine to her. So, unless you wish to give me even further cause to take you in dislike, you will refrain from speaking derogatorily of my household!"

Justin's eyes swept over her as if he were recalling what she looked like underneath her clothing, such that it was. "You are so beautiful. Your eyes sparkle like emeralds. It isn't every woman who would have had the courage to defend herself as you have. I commend you on your spirit, my lady. And I beg your forgiveness for my actions which were unforgivable."

Dousia refused to look at him.

Tony smiled slightly when he saw the purpling of Justin's cheek. "I see that you did not escape unscathed, Justin."

"I think that I will have the devil of a time explaining how I came about the bruise which I will have," Justin said reluctantly, touching the sore area on his face. "At least, woman, you can look at the mark you left on me."

Dousia smiled tightly as she looked at his face. There was a definite mark. She couldn't quite regret the force that she had used. "A combination of a soothing salve and rice powder, my lord, works quite well in disguising facial bruises. I believe that I may offer you a small jar of healing salve and the powder that is used in combination with it."

A puzzled expression went across Justin's face. "You have covered many facial bruises?" he asked quietly as he looked at her.

It was then that he noticed that her nose had a small bump as though it had been broken at one time. He felt an anger building up inside of him that anyone would have hurt her. Without his realizing it, he reached his hand out to touch her face.

"Don't touch me," she said in a horrified voice as she shrank back, moving her chair before she stood promptly. Dousia turned away from him and walked over to stand between the Blythes.

"Please, gentlemen, would you mind stepping out into the hall for about five minutes while I slip into some clothes. I feel quite uncomfortable appearing in such a state."

Justin smiled, his gray eyes growing dark. "The Blythes know that I have seen you in much less, lass," he said huskily.

Dousia made a choking sound.

"My Lord, Lytton, that was uncalled for," Lady Margaret admonished strongly.

"Pray, indulge me in this, gentlemen," Dousia said tightly. "We have a long conversation ahead of us. I do not wish to conduct it while wearing only my chemise and wrapper. It will not take but five minutes for me to change."

"I will help her ladyship dress. You two wait in the hall, and for God's sake, be careful what you say and no shouting. This is a public place," Lady Margaret advised.

Justin headed for the door. "Wait," Lady Margaret said sharply as she handed him his coat. "Tie the cravat and put on your coat. There is no need to cause any more gossip than is necessary."

"Now," Lady Margaret said quietly as the men left the room, "tell me what he did to you. There was more here than you are telling."

Dousia threw off the robe and slipped behind the screen to step out of her chemise. "Hand me the linen chemise hanging in the wardrobe. I shall have to do without stays."

Lady Margaret handed the linen garment over the screen. "You do not need stays, not with your figure."

Dousia pulled the fine linen over her head.

"Well," Lady Margaret said quietly. "You might be able to fool Tony. But, something else happened between the two of you, didn't it?"

Dousia stepped out from behind the screen. "He...touched me..."

Maggie's blue eyes sparkled with humor. "Obviously."

"Hand me the silk gown, please," Dousia said quietly.

"And?"

Dousia slipped the black dress over her head. "He made me ...I found myself... This is devilish hard to talk about... I didn't want him to stop touching me, to stop kissing me. I am ashamed of myself for the wantonness which he so easily aroused in me."

Maggie smiled. "You have been a widow for a number of years, Theodousia. Women have desires the same as men do."

"How could I allow myself to respond to a man, whom I do not even know, in the way that I did?" she asked in an anguished tone. "If he hadn't pulled away to remove his boots, I would have allowed him... But, it would have been more than merely allowing... I would have enjoyed it."

"Listen to me, Dousia. You've done nothing wrong. That you found resisting him a difficult matter is not incomprehensible. He is a handsome enough fellow, except for that scar of his. And I'd wager to say that he's been with enough women to know all of the tricks to send a woman into raptures. Now turn around, let me help you with those buttons."

"He frightens me, Maggie," she confessed quietly.

"Ah, Dousia. Does he scare you or do you frighten yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you married your Thomas, you were little more than a child. Now you are a mature woman. There is a difference in your body and in what you expect from a man."

Dousia swallowed hard. Maggie was working on the buttons running up Dousia's back. Dousia quickly wrapped an embroidered lace scarf around her neck and tucked it into the bodice of the gown to cover up the décolletage.

"I do not wish to remarry, Maggie. It is merely that simple."

"There is not a great deal of choice in the matter, Dousia. You must know this. This is now a matter of honor. The only honorable solution is for you to marry him."

Dousia cleared her throat. "Honor can go hang!"

"You don't mean that," Maggie said, aghast. "What are we without honor?"

Dousia didn't answer that. "Would you straighten out the bed, while I pin up my hair? If I am going to be receiving an offer of matrimony, I think that I should at least like for the room to be less disheveled."

Justin and Tony were standing outside the door in the hall. "That is going to be some bruise, Justin."

"Since I richly earned it, I suppose that I had better enjoy it," he replied with a degree of amusement in his voice.

"She obviously planted you a devilish facer."

"I have faced opponents in the ring who didn't hit me that hard. It was all that I could do not to strike her in return."

"You relieve my mind," Tony said quietly in rapid Spanish. "You didn't hurt her, then?"

"I've never hurt any woman in my life, regardless of the provocation," Justin replied in an offended tone and in Spanish.

"That is just as well. I am not anticipating with joy having to tell her uncle about this. I would relish that task even less if I had to report that you had struck her. God, you've landed yourself deep into the boughs, this time, Justin," Tony advised quietly.

"Deeper than you realize, Tony."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked strongly while keeping his voice low. "You didn't...?"

"That's not it, man! But that isn't saying that I wouldn't have taken her if she hadn't acquired that pistol," he said quietly, in a voice designed not to carry any further than the two of them, in spite of the fact that he was still speaking Spanish. "But, a man's desire is a fragile thing."

"Then what's the problem?" Tony replied lowly with a smile.

"I fail to see anything at all amusing about the situation. All I know is that she is a widow."

"How did you discover that?"

"I saw her wedding ring. So I asked. I may be a bit of a rake and a libertine, but I do not dally with married women. Ever. Not even if they are lightskirts," Justin replied tightly.

"She's a loyal one. Frankly, even without your scruples, if she had been married still, you wouldn't have gotten any further than you did. Perhaps not as far. It's all a reflection of her upbringing, you know."

"That's just it, man. I'm telling you that I don't know."

Just then Eva passed them carrying a tray with the beverages.

Tony smiled at the maid. "Allow me to take that from you. It looks far too heavy for you to carry. I thought that her ladyship told you to have a footman carry it?"

Eva looked uncomfortable. "I didn't think that we should be bringing any more people into this than were necessary."

She stepped around them and knocked. "It's Eva."

"Come in, Eva. But only you."

It was not more than another two minutes until Maggie poked her head out of the door and said, "Gentlemen?"

Justin couldn't believe the transformation of the room. The bed was made. The screen had been moved over to hide the bathtub. Most difficult to credit of all the transformations was the change in the lass's appearance. It was obvious she was in mourning.

That realization made Justin feel even worse. Was this mourning for her late husband?

She was dressed in a black silk gown cut along a fashionable pattern. A scarf of black embroidered Venetian lace was wrapped around her neck and tucked into the bodice of the dress transforming the fashionable neckline into one of almost overwhelming primness. The scarf was secured with a gold and jet pin. The gown although very proper, clung to her figure just well enough to send Justin's blood pressure soaring. Her hair which had hung about her like a curtain of flame was now securely rolled and fastened to the back of her head by the use of tortoise shell combs. Well-polished kid slippers were barely visible under the hem of her dress.

"Come," Dousia said, "let us reason together."

Tony cleared his throat. "Perhaps, my dear, it would be better if Maggie and I left. This conversation is prone to become devilish personal."

Dousia looked stricken. "No! Please stay, if only for the sake of propriety. Please."

"Lass, don't you think that we have gone beyond that?" Justin said quietly.

"I do not wish to be alone with you," she told him as she took a seat in one of the oak chairs that sat at the small oaken table and motioned for him to take the other chair.

Maggie and Tony sat on the end of the bed. Eva had poured the brandy. The filled glasses were on the tray on the table. Eva distributed them.

"Do I have to get down on one knee to ask for your hand in marriage?" Justin asked quietly, after Dousia had taken a large drink.

"No. I wouldn't require that. This entire situation has been far too humiliating, as it is. I would settle for a proper introduction," Dousia said firmly.

Justin barked out his laughter. "Oh, lass, we have rather done things backwards haven't we?"

Tony replied with humor in his voice, "Oh, you certainly have. But here, let me make the introductions. Justin, allow me to present Lady Theodousia Langley, the niece of the Duke of Winton and the guardian of the young Marquis of Edmonton. My lady, Justin Rivington, the Earl of Lytton. His lands march along Seahaven, William's estate. You are neighbors."

It had been only two months ago that Jonathan, the Duke of Winton, had seriously talked to Justin about this woman. Jonathan had been trying to arrange a marriage between Justin and this American niece of his. Justin hadn't agreed to anything except to meet the woman. Had the Duke outdone himself this time in his machinations?

"Jon must be laughing in his brandy," Justin remarked bitterly. "God! I can't believe that I fell into this!"

"Don't be profane!" Dousia corrected strongly. Then her tone became thoughtful. "I hope you aren't suggesting what I believe you are suggesting?"

"Jon knew that I was going to Lytton Hall today. He knew that I was going to be stopped here, as usual. It seems little enough to arrange with the landlord to have us put together in the same room," Justin replied reflectively. "I shouldn't doubt that Jon also changed the travel arrangements of the woman whom I was to have met. He has been quite determined that you and I should make a match together."

"Uncle Jon is ruthless, but he would not do this," Dousia replied sharply. "He would not use me in such a manner."

"There is nothing past which I would put the Duke," Justin replied.

Tony answered strongly, "We had planned to drive straight through, stopping only to change horses at posting houses. But, a broken axle on my coach forced us to stop here. It is the only inn for five miles."

"Perhaps I have been hasty in making that observation," Justin replied calmly, but not apologetically. "But, based on the Duke's predilection for manipulating people and situations to meet his plans, I did not think that the situation was completely outside of the realm of possibility."

Dousia bit her lip. Had Justin known her longer, he would have realized that action was the sign of her about to unleash her temper. "Let us leave Uncle out of this, shall we?" she said in a far too controlled voice. "Is it not sufficient that you have called me enough vile names to start a war? Must you compound that offense by making an enemy of my uncle, as well?"

"You have my profound apologies for the accusations which I laid at your door. I realize now that they were unfounded and unjust," Justin said.

"Accepted," she replied, but there was no warmth in her tone.

"I would be happy to leave Jon out of this. The trouble is that he will not be willing to deal himself out of the game. He has been trying to arrange a match between us for weeks now. Every time that I see him, he is singing your praises."

Dousia's eyes narrowed. "Just how much has Uncle told you about me?"

"That you were a woman of rare courage and good sense. That you have a good head for business. That you were weary of being pursued by fortune hunters."

"I see... I rather suspect that if anyone has been trapped here it is I. I have seen some skillful fortune hunters in my day, but this scheme takes the prize for originality," she said icily.

"You think that I created this situation in order to get my hands on your money?" Justin asked in dismay.

"It is at least as valid a possibility as your contention that Uncle set the scene in order to force the marriage," she retorted. "Both of which are extreme."

"Now, the both of you, this has gone far enough," Tony interjected.

"You are correct, Tony, the situation is ludicrous. Completely," Justin replied.

Dousia's jaw was set. Her eyes narrowed. "Given my preferences, my lord, I would not have you."

"Yes?" he mocked. "And I suppose that is why I was able to seduce you so easily? Because you find me so repugnant!"

"Seduce!" Lady Margaret echoed in a shocked voice. "I thought it had not gone that far!"

"Hush, Maggie!" her husband chided in a low voice.

Dousia blushed. "I never claimed to find you repugnant, my lord. All I said was that given my preferences, I would not have you. I have no desire, at all, to remarry."

"Why not? Still grieving for your husband? How long have you been widowed, by the way?"

"I will not discuss Thomas with you. Not tonight. Perhaps not ever."

"You cannot love a dead person. I know. I tried for many years to keep my wife's image alive. But it simply cannot be done."

Lady Margaret interjected, "I didn't know that you are a widower."

"No, probably not. Neither family approved of the marriage. Carmelita was the daughter of a Spanish grandee. Her parents disowned her when she married as they put it, 'an English heretic'," he said, the bitterness of his memories crossing over into his tone of voice. "My parents were almost equally displeased to have a Papist for a daughter-in-law."

"She has been dead for a long time?" Dousia asked.

"Thirteen years. Our son would have been thirteen years old last week."

Tears glistened on Dousia's eyelashes.

"Tears, for me?" he asked. He couldn't remember any time when anyone had cried for him.

"For some reason, today, I am quite unable to keep my emotions under control," she replied. "I do beg your indulgence."

Justin smiled at her. "Tell me about your Thomas."

A small smile crossed her face. "He was a good man. Ship building was in his blood. He loved the sea, mostly for its raw beauty, strength, and mercurialness... He used to tease me that the reason he fell in love with me was that I was the first woman who reminded him so much of the sea."

"Why did you fail to scream for help, earlier?" he asked after a moment. He heard the love in her voice. It made him angry that he had probably lost the chance to put that emotion into her voice where he was concerned.

"Oh, I say, there's a prime example of masculine logic. Gets himself in a tight spot on account of his own actions, then seeks to put the blame on a woman."

He started to interrupt her, but she shot him such a quelling look that he remained silent. She continued in the same bitter tone, "A woman can bear many things secretly, but few things publicly."

"What do you mean by that?"

Tony interjected in an exasperated tone, "For God's sake, man! Does it really matter?"

"When my father was murdered, I happened to be the only witness. The murderer tried to kill me, also. I stopped him, permanently, but not before he nearly beat me to death. The rumors that followed the attack were that he had also forced his attentions upon me. And he might have done so, if I had not put his own blade between his ribs and into his black heart. It was an act of desperation. I do not regret it."

Justin was quiet for a moment. "Jon said that you were almost killed."

"I survived. They say that only the good die young," she said. "I suppose that I, like many others of my line, shall have a very long life, indeed."

Justin shook his head negatively, as he fought back the twitching of his lips. "Oh? Is that the reason why the Dukes of Winton are known to live so long?"

She smiled. Deviltry sparkled in her eyes, "There is a legend that the Mother Abbess of the Poor Clares who used to live in Winton Abbey prior to the Dissolution placed a curse on the Dukes of Winton that they would all live to see the deaths of their grown grandchildren."

"You don't actually believe that?"

"No. However, it does make a great story."

Dousia stood and walked away from the table. Finally, she spoke, "I need your word, Sir Antony, Lady Margaret, and my Lord Lytton, that not by a single word or deed will you reveal anything that has transpired within the walls of this inn."

Tony smiled at her, but wondered what she was up to, "Of course, my lady. You have my word, that unless you release me to discuss it, not a word of the matter shall pass my lips." Maggie agreed in much the same words.

Dousia turned to Justin. "Upon your promise not to speak of this matter any further to anyone under any circumstances, I shall release you from your debt of honor to me. After reflection, I believe that it would be best for everyone concerned if this matter is forgotten about and we continued in the manner in which our lives were proceeding before tonight."

Justin swallowed hard. "You think that little of your own worth that you would be willing to release me of my obligations of honor to you?"

She shook her head. "On the contrary, I think that much of myself that I will not marry a man who thinks so little of me and my family as to think that I would stoop to allowing myself to be dishonored so to trap him into marriage. I once married for love. To remarry without love would be a violation of all the ideals which I hold dear."

Tony looked shocked. "Don't do this, Dousia. You don't know what you are saying."

"On the contrary, I know exactly what I am doing. This situation is preposterous. I refuse to enter into a marriage based on obligation of honor. His lordship believes that I have conspired with my uncle to trap him into marrying me. How else can I prove to him that his suspicions are erroneous, if I do not release him from the obligation to marry me? It would be far better for all of us to forget that tonight ever happened."

"I will never forget tonight," Justin said. "I do not believe that you will either."

"How else can I prove to you that your suspicions are in error?" she demanded.

Tony turned to Justin. "Dousia is overset, Justin."

"Yes, I am overset. It has been a bad day, followed by a worse evening. Now, if you all will excuse me, I am extremely weary. I should like to retire... Sir Antony, if you would be so good as to relieve my lord Lytton of his key to my room and to accompany him down stairs to, calmly, privately, and without further incident, settle the matter with the innkeeper, I would be greatly in your debt."

"Of course, my lady. Sleep well," Tony said.

"Goodnight. And try to sleep," Margaret said. "Things will look better in the morning."

"Goodnight to both of you. God give you pleasant dreams."

"Au revoir, Lady Theodousia," Justin said as he took her hand and kissed it.

"Goodbye, my lord Lytton," she said with an air of finality.

Chapter Three

The hall clock rang out three o'clock when the hired coach conveying the Crawford siblings, along with their chaperones, arrived at the Abbey. The entire staff assembled to greet them, or rather to greet the young Marquis. Jon Crawford stood at the end of the hall waiting for them to make their way through the very polite gauntlet of the assembled servants.

Reaching their uncle, Dousia gave him a deep curtsy while William made a proper bow. When they rose, their uncle pulled them both into his bear-like embrace.

"The last time I saw you, young man, you were only a few weeks old," Jon said as they separated. "You've changed quite a bit since then."

"I should hope so!" William replied indignantly. "I was only a baby then." Then William added in his six-year-old voice, "You look like Papa."

Jon nodded affirmatively. "Your papa and I were twins. Well, my lord, shall we plan on spending some time together tomorrow morning after breakfast. Perhaps we could go walking about the grounds?"

William's eyes lit up. "Oh, please, your grace. I should like that very well, indeed. The only thing that I should like better would be to ride about the grounds."

"Will," Dousia warned.

The boy looked up impishly at his sister. "Well, you said that I could have a pony, again, when we arrived in England, Dousia."

Dousia smiled at the boy, love lighting up her eyes. "So I did. I would remind you, young man, that patience is a virtue. I will see to getting you a pony as soon as I can find the time."

"As it happens, I have a pony in the stables for the boy," Jon stated, joy sparkling in his green eyes.

Will closed the small distance between them. He threw his small arms around his uncle's legs and hugged him. "Oh, thank you, your Grace. Can I go see him now?"

"May I go to see him, now?" Dousia corrected.

"You want to come, too?" Will retorted impishly, knowing full well that she had been correcting him, as he stepped back from his uncle.

Dousia ruffled her brother's deep chestnut hair. "William," she chided with a barely suppressed smile.

Jonathan laughed. "Ahhh... The Crawford tongue. I wonder how my nanny tolerated two of us."

"Indeed, Uncle, I have often wondered that the woman did not end up as a Bedlamite," Dousia replied in humor.

"You wish to go riding, your lordship. Tomorrow, I will take you around the acreage. You may ride your pony," Jon agreed.

"Thank you, your Grace. But, please your Grace, could we not be simply Will and Uncle Jon? Is there any need for such formality between us?"

Jon laughed. "As you wish, Will. Now, I am sure that you are hungry after your trip. Francois has some special cakes and lemonade in the kitchen for you. When you have finished with those refreshments, then you may go out to the stables and see your pony."

The small boy looked up at Dousia. "May I?"

She smiled down at him. Then she sank to her knees to face him at eye level. "Of course you may. Do not stuff yourself. It has been a long and exciting day. You shouldn't like to inconvenience Eva or myself by making either of us sit up with you while you have the stomach ache late tonight. Be careful in the stables to stay well out of the way of the grooms. They have important work in caring for the horses. They do not need to be plagued by a host of questions from a certain, insatiably curious, young man."

The boy threw his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek. He backed away from her and took Eva's hand as Dousia rose to her feet.

"William," Dousia chided as William appeared to walk off without making his bow.

The boy turned quickly. The expression on his face was so contrite that it was all that Jon could do not to laugh.

"Sorry," the boy said. "By your leave, sir?"

"Until tomorrow, Will," Jon said kindly.

William made his bow to his uncle. Then, as if the thought just occurred to him, he said in an awe-filled voice, "Please, Uncle Jon, are the legends true about the ghosts of the nuns who used to live here wandering the halls at night?"

Jon smiled. "Don't worry about it, Will. They only bother little boys who forget to say their prayers at night."

Will gulped and paled visibly, taking his uncle seriously. He seemed to consider the matter, then brightened considerably. "Papa used to come and hear my bedtime prayers. If you would do that, it should be almost as if Papa were still alive."

A pin could have dropped in the far end of the house and been heard in the main hall, the silence was that profound. "I cannot promise to hear your prayers every night, but, if your nanny will come and fetch me when you are ready to go to sleep, I shall come to hear your prayers tonight."

"Splendid!" the boy said, then made his bow again and holding Eva's hand left the room following a liveried footman.

The servants, except for Forbes, then dispersed, leaving Tony, Maggie, Dousia, and Jon in the hall.

"I am sure that you two will understand that I should like to have some time to speak with my niece," Jon said. "I shall see you at dinner."

Tony swallowed hard. So, that was how the land lay. Unless, Tony was gravely mistaken, Dousia was in for a very unpleasant surprise in the person of the Earl of Lytton. "Of course, your grace. Family business should be conducted privately."

"Forbes, show Sir Antony and Lady Margaret to the Gold suite. See that they have whatever they need."

"Sir," Forbes said, "and Lady Blythe, please be so good as to follow me."

"Now," Jon said when they were alone, "Dousia, if you would join me in my study. I believe that it is time that we had a talk."

Dousia smiled. "Yes, Uncle. I believe that would be in order. There have been happenings of which you should be informed."

Jon extended his arm for her to take. "I must say that you have grown even more lovely since the last time that I saw you."

"Oh, must you? I declare, Uncle, if you continue in such a vein, I shall be unable to wear any of my bonnets," she teased.

"Of all the women of my acquaintance, I should think that you would be the least susceptible to being influenced by smooth words."

"I fear that you are correct in that. Of course, some people would say that the quality you have labeled as good sense is in actuality nothing more than a well developed cynicism."

"Nonsense, you are not a cynical person. A bit too much on the thoughtful side, and able to well acquit yourself in any confrontation, but never cynical."

"Uncle..." Dousia began, but then changed her mind about speaking so freely in front of servants, no matter how unobtrusive they might be. "I only wish that I possessed the kind of spirit with which you credit me."

"Nonsense, you are a Crawford. Naturally you have spirit. There hasn't been a Crawford yet who was a ninnyhammer!"

"There was the second Duke, Rupert," Dousia teased.

Humor sparkled in Jon's eyes. "Ah...yes... But, we don't claim poor Rupert..."

No, Edward thought cynically as he looked down at Jon and Dousia from the landing of the staircase. The family does not claim poor Rupert whose only claim to infamy was his decided predilection towards those persons who wore boots instead of slippers.

Edward had spent time in his room working on the letters he would be sending to the Dowager Countess of Lytton, Lady Caroline. This marriage between Dousia and Justin must not be allowed to happen. It would ruin everything for him. He had sat back and read the first letter which he had slowly printed so as not to give any indication of the handwriting, and thus of the identity, of the sender. Yes, he thought as he patted the pocket now containing the first letter, that it would do, nicely. Later today, he would ride into the village and post the letter along with all of the other outgoing mail. Nothing would appear amiss in his doing so. Once the letter was in the mail, that would be one step accomplished towards removing the threat of being displaced in the line of succession to the title.

Now, a way had to be found to rid himself of that brat, William. It would have to look like an accident or a childish misadventure gone terribly wrong. The last thing he could afford was to have any suspicion lingering upon him in the matter of the boy's death. With William out of the way, and Dousia's marriage to Justin thwarted, there would be nothing to stop Edward from coming into the title of Marquis, and eventually that of Duke. All that was to be done about the betrothal of Dousia to Justin was simply to sit back and wait. Lady Caroline would do the rest. Edward fully expected that the woman would not sit by idly and watch her son become entangled with a trollop of the sort of which Edward's letter described.

It amused him to have his dirty work being done by a woman who normally would not give him the time of day. With Dousia's reputation thoroughly ruined, as Edward was certain that Caroline would do, Jon's niece, should she decide to marry, would have only a very few choices for husband. Edward intended that Dousia eventually marry him. That had been something which he had decided before he ever laid eyes on her. After all, she was a wealthy woman in her own right. It was well past time that the fortunes of the Clancey family saw an upturn. But, now that Edward had seen her, he was more determined than ever to have her as his wife. Nothing was going to stand in his way.

"Winton Abbey is even more grand than Father had led me to believe," Dousia said, changing the subject of conversation away from the Crawford family.

"It is a grand place. I hope that you and William will be happy here."

"We do not intend to impose on your hospitality for a protracted length of time, Uncle. We will be here only for such time as it takes for me to put his estate in order."

"You have only just now arrived. Pray, do not speak of leaving. I should like to have your company for a period of time."

Dousia laughed. "Oh, Uncle, Will and I are both keeping deep mourning for Father. I fear that I should be a hindrance to your activities."

"Let me worry about that. You and the boy are practically the only family I have remaining to me. Please stay for a while and allow me to enjoy the lad," Jon asked.

"I shall give the matter some consideration, Uncle."

"I can ask for little more." They arrived at the study. Jon opened the door for her. "After you, my dear."

She stepped inside the richly paneled room. The first sight, indeed the only sight, which she saw was the person of the Earl of Lytton. A tight smile crossed her face. The door closed behind her.

"Well, children, please sit down," Jonathan urged as he directed them to the two leather arm chairs which sat in front of his desk. "There are things that we must discuss. I hope that we may do so calmly. I see no need of alerting the servants as to the nature of this business."

Dousia sighed.

"Niece, Justin has applied to me for permission to marry you," he said as he sat behind his oak desk.

"I have no desire to wed this man, my lord Uncle," she replied. "Out of curiosity, Uncle, what did you say to my lord, Lytton, when he applied for my hand?"

"He told me that I should ask you myself since you were well above the age of consent."

A broad smile crossed her face. "Thank you, Uncle."

"However, I also told him that I am greatly in favor of the match."

"I see..." she said. "You would have me enter into the most sacred of unions without love after I promised my father that I would never do so? Does my honor mean nothing to the illustrious Duke of Winton?"

"Dousia, my dear, you have a sharp tongue."

"Uncle, dearest, Father once remarked that it was a trait which, in the Crawford family, was hereditary. He also told me that of the two of you, the worst offender, your grace, was the boy named Jonathan."

"I wish for you to seriously consider marrying Justin. There are several advantages to such a union. The first on being that Justin and you share several interests. He has spent the majority of his life at sea, serving aboard His Majesty's ships. With your interest in the sea, you are profoundly suited as companions. Given time, you could be close friends as well as husband and wife."

Dousia looked at him with an expression on her face that said clearly that she thought that her uncle was quite mad.

Jon could not help but laugh. "I assure you that I haven't gone off in the head."

"I wish that I could be certain of that, Uncle," she replied in a voice so low that Jon had to strain to hear it.

"That tongue of yours will land you in trouble one day, Theodousia."

"And I shall extricate myself from whatever trouble it lands me into, just as I have from the time that I learned to speak."

"Dousia, consider carefully that your fortune is going to make you the target for more impecunious young men than you can possibly deal with. Marrying Justin would remove you from the circle of their prey."

"I have dealt with fortune hunters for a number of years, Uncle," she replied matter-of-factly. "Some of whom have been quite inventive in their laying of traps."

"You have never dealt with ones such as you will find in London," Jonathan replied. "I would hate to see your reputation demolished by a loose word about last evening's episode at the Inn."

Dousia shot Justin a look so full of venom that it was almost a caricature of anger. "It would appear that the word of some people is no good at all. Since his word is no good, how do I know that his troth would be kept."

Justin smiled. "Ah, but lass, you will recall that although you asked for my word, I did not give it. As for keeping vows, I daresay that I wouldn't take them, if I didn't intend to keep them."

"Would you like something to drink, Theodousia?" Jon offered.

"I suppose that a sherry would not come amiss."

"Justin, what would you have as refreshment?" Jon asked.

"Whatever you are having, Jon. I have in my pocket a special license. We could be married tomorrow morning."

"My, aren't you the industrious one," she replied, forcing herself to remain calm. "And just how did you come into possession of that document?"

Justin smiled. "I have an uncle who is a Bishop. It just so happened that his home was not too far of a detour off of my way here."

"How convenient."

"It is rather," he agreed with a small smile.

Jon returned to the desk with the drinks. He placed them down on the desk. Dousia took hers, moving to sip the wine.

"To the betrothal of my niece."

Dousia put down her glass. "No! I will not drink to that, for I have no intention of marrying him."

"Give me some reasons, my dear. And they had better be damnably convincing."

She cleared her throat. "I am still in deep mourning for my father. Please allow me the dignity of the next few months of this period of grieving for his passing without forcing me to be dishonoring his memory by entering into marriage rashly."

"What was it that Jesus said about letting the dead bury their dead?" Jon queried.

Her mouth twisted into a raw parody of a smile. "Quoting scripture, Uncle? How terribly out of character for you. But then what was that line from 'The Merchant of Venice' about even the Devil quoting scripture for his own purposes?"

Justin sat back and observed the uncle and niece. He had never known anyone to have less fear of Jon Crawford than this woman did. But, then, she, apparently, had remarkably little fear of anyone. Justin did not know what to make of her. She was unlike any other woman of his acquaintance. And that was a definite asset.

"And the passage you are looking for is the eighth chapter of Matthew, twenty second verse: 'And Jesus said unto him, Follow me; and let the dead bury their dead.'"

Jon smiled. "You must allow yourself to pick up the threads of your life, woman."

"Frankly, Uncle, I have no desire, at all, to remarry."

Jon's lips thinned. "You will remarry. Furthermore, you will marry Justin."

"And just how do you propose to force the issue, Uncle?" she replied, her green eyes narrowing. "Am I to be confined on starvation rations until I consent, or am I merely to be beaten?"

"Just a moment," Justin interrupted. "Let us endeavor to remain calm about this. There is no need for any unpleasantness, nor for any talk of force."

Jonathan looked between the two younger people. "I am a very wealthy man, Dousia. I am also a man with friends in all sorts of high places, including the Chancery Court. You are quite mature enough to know that often court decrees may be influenced by money, friendship, or power. I have all three. Either you marry Justin or I guarantee you that you will never be allowed to see your brother, until he reaches his majority."

"You forget yourself, Uncle. While I love you dearly, I will not surrender in your favor the obligation I have to my brother. My father entrusted the lad to my care. I have radically changed my life to fulfill the request... Note well, Uncle, it was not a condition of the will, merely a request that William be raised in England. William is my responsibility and I will not allow the abrogation that responsibility without due cause."

"Due cause? A court might just think that your refusal of a good offer of marriage from a man who had dishonored you was sufficient cause to doubt your moral fitness to be the guardian of the heir to a peerage. You will obey me, or else I shall have no other recourse than to disown you and turn you out of doors."

Dousia's face went completely pale. "You wouldn't actually publicly expose this matter. What about the scandal?"

"I think you'll find I will do precisely what I must."

"You would let him do this?" she asked Justin.

Justin refused to allow any of his shock to show on his face. "I have learned over the years that it is practically impossible to stop Jon from doing something which he has decided to do."

"You would bear the majority of the scandal, Theodousia. Justin would be respected for having done his duty with the offering of marriage to you. I would be admired for having the courage to take my heir out of the influence of a loose woman. And you would be left with a reputation just this side of Haymarket Ware," Jon said. "At the very least, any chance of your ever contracting a decent marriage anywhere in England would be ruined. Your fortune of course would remain under your control. But, you would not be received anywhere in polite company."

Dousia looked over at Justin whose schooling of his expression into impassivity was threatened by the intensity of the emotions in the room. For only the briefest of moments, she saw the mask slip to reveal the distaste he obviously felt for this tactic of her uncle's. Then she looked at her uncle. "You would really do that to me? You would harm me in such a way?"

Jonathan smiled at her, but there was no humor or warmth there, only an icy formality. "I shouldn't like to do it, Theodousia. But, it is an option which I must keep open."

She drew a deep breath. "What choice have you left me?"

"You can marry Justin," Jon said.

"That would seem to be the only option available," she replied after a moment of silence.

"You will have no cause to regret that decision, Dousia," Justin said.

"I beg leave to differ, my lord. I fear that I regret the decision, already."

"I can make you happy, if you will give me a chance," he pledged. "This marriage will only be as good as you allow it to be."

She sighed. "Most circumstances in life are only as good as we allow them to be."

"There is no reason why we cannot be happy together, Theodousia," Justin replied.

"I have no intention of making myself miserable when I can allow myself to be happy."

"I am pleased that you are being sensible about this."

"There are conditions, however, to my acceptance," she said, regaining some of her old spirit.

Jon smiled at her, thoroughly amused. "I should have been gravely disappointed in you otherwise, my dear."

"Yes. I believe that you would have been," Dousia replied, her eyes narrowing. "In that, I believe that we are very much alike. And that, Uncle dear, frightens me beyond words at this moment. Have you warned his lordship about the piratical nature of the Crawford clan?"

"There is no need to warn me," Justin replied in amusement. "I have known his Grace all my life."

"Have you?" Dousia asked, in a voice which to Justin, seemed to say that the length of the acquaintance was completely irrelevant to her.

Justin queried sharply, as he grew impatient. "What are your conditions for accepting my offer of marriage?"

"There are several," she replied.

"Name them."

"I will have a marriage contract drawn up by my solicitor. In that contract will be the provision my fortune and property, except for a generous amount that will be settled on you upon our marriage, shall remain totally under my control. You will have no right to dispose of it, nor to contract for liens against it, nor to speak for me in any business dealing in which I have not specifically deputized you in writing, nor shall I have any of those rights where your property is concerned except for those reasonable, usual, and customary ways in which a wife binds her husband such as in the purchase of clothing, household goods, et cetera."

Justin smiled. "Have you read law?" he queried incredulously, with a small laugh.

"Don't laugh, my lord," she replied with a smile.

"It is simply unusual to find a woman who is concerned about things apart from her appearance and the latest on-dit."

"I am considered by some to be shockingly blue. I have an ear for languages and a head for numbers. I also have a highly retentive memory. If this bothers you, you may honorably retract your proposal. I shall release you from your obligation gladly," she replied in a bit too hopeful of a tone.

"I prefer intelligent conversation to the simpers of stupid misses."

"Do you agree to the provision concerning our fortunes?"

"And what if I fail to agree to that provision?" Justin countered.

"Then my uncle's threat to take me to court and prove that I am morally unfit to raise his heir on account of turning down your offer of matrimony becomes null and void since I would not be the one balking at the marriage. That distinction would be solely yours."

"I haven't refused that condition, yet, woman," he told her. "Let us discuss it further. Just what do you mean that you would furnish me with a generous settlement. Generous is a broad word. It could mean many things. How do you define generous?"

She shrugged. "I suppose that would be open to negotiation. Let's say one hundred thousand pounds invested in Funds from which you would receive the dividends on a quarterly basis."

Justin looked at her, first incredulously, then frostily, before he replied strongly. "That is utterly ridiculous."

She assessed him silently for a moment. "It is a negotiating point. If you find it unsatisfactory, I would suggest that you make a counter offer, my lord."

"My name," he said smoothly, "is Justin. Pray do me the courtesy of addressing me as such."

She blushed. "I couldn't. That would be entirely too intimate."

Justin laughed. "Don't put on missish airs, Theodousia. We have rather gone beyond the false little politenesses of social convention."

Dousia shrugged. "My lord... er... Justin..."

"See! That was not so difficult was it?" Justin asked.

"We were discussing terms of our betrothal contract, Justin. Please make your counter offer."

"Let's say that instead of settling any amount on me, you place it in a trust invested in funds, or shares, whichever you prefer, with the interest or earnings left to compound. The resulting fund would then after a period of years be divided, on a per stirpes basis, among our children, with the exception of the heir to the title, upon the reaching of the majority of the eldest child who wasn't in line for the title."

She smiled broadly. "Are you trying to pay me back for the comment about you wanting me for my money?"

Justin turned to Jon. "This woman is sharp."

"And apparently not the only one in the room who has ever read law. Are you sure about the per stirpes basis? If the money was to be divided among all except the heir to your title on the majority of the eldest who wasn't the heir, then why would you wish to distribute it on such a basis? Share and share alike would seem to be more appropriate... "

"No. It isn't uncommon for young ladies to marry early. Nor is it uncommon that a percentage of them would die in childbirth. I would like to have the child's share go to any dependents whom she might have had, should our child not be alive at the time of the distribution," Justin explained.

A spark of respect flashed in her eyes. "That would indeed make sense, my lor... Justin. I agree to it."

"Good, now that we've gotten that out of the way, let us set a wedding date."

"Careful lad, I have a feeling that she hasn't finished with her conditions."

Justin returned his attention to Dousia. Her eyes were sparkling like emeralds. Blast her, he thought, she's actually enjoying this. "You have other conditions?"

"Indeed. There will be multiple true copies of the contract, of course. There will be a copy kept with each of our solicitors, a copy for each of us, a copy kept in Uncle's safe, a copy in the safekeeping of my brother, and a copy will be sent to the lawyer with whom I dealt in America. That's seven copies in all."

"People might get the impression that you don't trust me," Justin said.

"People might be correct. I have very little basis for trusting you, my lord. Until yesterday, we had never even met. That we are now in negotiations to marry strikes me as profoundly odd," she replied in a tone of voice which made him want to take her into his arms and soothe her frayed nerves.

"It is not a normal situation," he acquiesced, allowing none of the more tender emotions which he was feeling to show in his voice. Justin wasn't certain that he wanted to allow her the knowledge of how deeply she affected him.

"That it is not," she replied. "Then again, it has been my observation that few events actually ever conform to the standard pattern."

"What's your second, or is it third, condition?" Justin replied with a smile.

"It really is not so terribly bad."

"The suspense is killing me."

"Now, that's an idea!"

"Careful, lass, that's the second time in two days that you have suggested that you would be less than injured should I suddenly pass away. If you continue to make remarks like that, people will begin to think that you do not care for me."

Dousia laughed. The sound was unlike the sound of any female laugh he had ever heard. Usually women contrived to make their laughter musical. Hers was just full of good nature and humor. He wanted to hear her laugh more often like that. He wanted to hear her laughter in his ear, in a far more intimate situation.

"The wedding will wait until after I am out of mourning. There is no need to rush the wedding. Indeed, even an official announcement of the betrothal will wait until that time. No one except the three of us and our respective solicitors will know of the approaching marriage. And they will only know because of the necessity of their being involved with the marriage contracts."

Justin's mouth tightened into a thin line. But, he said nothing.

Jon cleared his throat. "Really, Theodousia. I believe that you ought to allow the news to Justin's mother and to your brother. And the Blythes, since they are involved here, ought to be told. Then there is the matter of your Aunt Elinor. If she thinks that you are uncommitted, she will be matchmaking for you."

"I see the point on the Blythes. And I can understand telling Aunt Elinor, and swearing her to secrecy, in an effort to prevent her from trying to orchestrate matches between me and any of half the eligible gentlemen among the ton."

"I should like to be able to tell my mother."

"And how would she react to having a strange woman hoisted off unto her as a daughter-in-law?" Dousia countered. "Would that make for smooth relations between myself and her?"

"Perhaps it would be better to let her grow to know you before that announcement is made," he allowed.

Jon agreed. "Aye, Lady Caroline is a woman of strong opinions. She won't be at all happy to find that you are marrying my niece, instead of the Blansforth chit."

A puzzled expression passed over Dousia's face. "Justin, did you have an understanding with this Miss Blansforth?"

Justin laughed. "No. I have no interest in Maria Blansforth. Besides, I understand that Wexley is all set to offer for her."

"Wexley? But, he is old enough to be her father," Jon replied.

"As am I," Justin responded with a small chuckle. "Now, back to the matter of who shall be told of our betrothal, Theodousia."

"Aside from the people whom we've mentioned, I think that it would be better if we allowed everyone else to believe that his lordship and I have a reasonably conventional courtship," Dousia replied.

Justin reluctantly agreed. "I want your word that you will not attempt to vanish after your mourning period is over. I will not have you using this condition as a delaying tactic until you can get your brother established, only to have you run away without honoring your word."

Dousia looked at him and smiled tightly. "I shan't pretend that the thought lacks merit, my lord. However, when I give my word, I honor it."

"So far, you haven't given your word."

"The wedding will not be an out of hand affair. We will have the banns called. The ceremony will be in Church. It doesn't have to be a large wedding or anything elaborate, but I will not compromise on this," she replied, sidestepping his remark.

"I have no problems with a church wedding," Justin said.

"Your uncle, the Bishop, may officiate if you like. I suppose that it will be the church nearest Seahaven since I expect that Will and I shall have taken up residence there. Not even the smallest hint of scandal shall be in any way attached to this marriage, or to any children born of it," Dousia finished.

"Set a wedding date," Justin urged.

"It would have to be sometime in February, at the earliest," she said quietly. "The banns will not be publishable until after Twelfth Night. They will have to be called for three Sundays. That makes it February."

Justin nodded. "This may be better, anyway, Jon. This gives Dousia and I some time to get to know one another. We may decide that we don't actually suit after all."

Dousia's heart suddenly dropped to her feet. Why, she asked herself, should the id