The Reluctant Countess

The Reluctant Countess by Karen Woods

Awe-Struck www.awe-struck.net Copyright © 2005 by Karen Woods

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. Dedication This book is dedicated to the “Cubbies". Ladies, through thick and thin, good times and bad, we've helped each other, cried on one another's shoulders, cheered each other on, prayed for each other, and become sisters of the heart. Much love, always.

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 idea of not marrying this man bother her? Surely, she didn't actually want to be his wife? She told herself that she should be happy that he might decide not to go through with the marriage. Neither Jon nor Justin missed the empty look that passed fleetingly across her face. Unfortunately, both of them interpreted it correctly. “Any other conditions to your accepting my proposal of marriage?” Justin asked. “This is the only really important one. William's legal custody is and remains solely mine. If I should die, then, and only then would you become his guardian. I solemnly promised my father that I would care for William and that if I ever remarried I would retain legal custody of the boy in my own right. I will not break that promise." “I would not ask you to break a solemn promise. Your honor is important to me." “Then if we are agreed on the terms, I will marry you." “We are agreed,” Justin said quietly. Jon said kindly, “I am satisfied with these arrangements." “I am so glad,” Dousia replied tightly. Jon smiled. “Niece, I had hoped that we might become friends, again." “That may still be possible, Uncle,” she allowed with a slight smile. “But, then again, in a world where a carpenter walked on water anything may be possible, even if of a miraculous nature."

Chapter Four Lady Caroline Rivington, the Dowager Countess of Lytton, sat alone at the table in the breakfast room at Lytton Hall. She was sipping her mid morning tea and reading the correspondence before getting ready to make her calls on her neighbors. Gowned in a soft gray silk morning gown which was an exact match for the color of her gray eyes, she was a magnificently beautiful woman. Regal of carriage, she stood as straight and as proud today as she had when she had been a debutante. In fact, with the exception of her pregnancies and the early infancies of her children, she had continued to wear the same size gown as she had when she had made her comeout. Aside from the fact that her blond hair had matured into an elegant shade of silver, Caroline Rivington could have been, and often was, taken for a much younger woman than one of her sixty two years.

The first note was an invitation to a house party at the Blansforth's estate in Sussex in two weeks time. Then there were bills from her modiste and milliner. Those were followed by a chatty letter from her goddaughter, Lady Alice Mawsbury, containing the news that Lady Alice was once more with child and, after five daughters, was hoping to produce a son this time, with the devout hopes that Mawsbury would stop bothering her with the distasteful process of breeding once he had his long awaited heir. Finally there was a letter with no return address and bearing handwriting she did not recognize. Carefully, she opened the last letter and unfolded it. My dearest Lady Caroline, I feel that it is incumbent upon me to inform you of a most unsuitable alliance which your son, the Earl of Lytton, is seriously contemplating. While I am not generally a bearer of tales, I feel that you deserve to have the full knowledge of this matter. Someone must talk sense into him, before the ancient name of Rivington is sullied beyond repair by this dangerous misalliance. The woman with whom he is involved, yes, even to the point of having proposed marriage to, is little better than a murderess and a common whore. I acknowledge that these are harsh words, yet I assure you, my lady, that they are not slanderous in the least. The woman is directly responsible for the deaths of at least two men, possibly four. The first was her husband who died under suspicious circumstances shortly after their nuptials. This is a fact beyond all questioning. She will, when questioned, admit to the truth of it, although she attempts to guide the conversation away from any topic that could give rise to the questions as to her involvement in this death. The inquest declared the death to be an accident. It is also rumored that she was directly involved in the accident that took the life of her mother's brother. As she was the sole heiress to the family fortune—a large estate, a sizable shipping concern, and other investments and cash—it was most convenient that her uncle should have died suddenly prior to her marriage, leaving her a very wealthy young woman. An investigation was conducted after her involvement with the middle of the night stabbing deaths of her father and another man; a man with whom she was reputedly on intimate terms. She freely admits to having killed this man. Yet, the investigation declared that she had acted in self-defense. Although, how it was self-defense to kill a man who was in the act of mating with her, not twenty feet from where her father lay dead, is beyond my poor powers of comprehension. Particularly, this is difficult to understand as she stabbed the man in the back. Still, the authorities called this death a matter of self-defense and they exonerated her completely in the matter of the death of her father. Is it not amazing what a bit of gold spread over certain judicial palms can accomplish? In each of these cases, she has profited greatly from the death of the man. I would hate to see the earl become her next victim. Lady Caroline's hands began to shake. It was as though her worst fears about her youngest son were coming true with a vengeance. But, then, Justin had always been a vexation to her. She had known, simply known that the boy was bound to become involved in a situation that would bring disgrace to the family name. After all, hadn't he run away to sea instead of being dutiful and going to the University to read for Holy Orders as she had wanted him to do? Of course, his father had made those arrangements for Justin to go to sea. George had said that the experience would make a man of the boy. And Justin had done well in his career, Caroline had to admit. Still, Lord only knew in what sort of mischief he was likely to become entangled. Caro forced herself to put down the letter and to sip her tea in an effort to calm herself. The images conjured up by the words which she had just read were more than merely horrifying. How could any woman be so evil? The Dowager Countess half wanted to believe that the letter before her was a hoax, some kind of perverted practical joke gone terribly awry. However, she was at a loss to understand who would want to hurt her so badly. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps the target of the attack was the woman whom Justin was seeing. Yet, that did not make any sense to her either.

She forced herself to drink two cups of tea, in an effort to put some time and distance between herself and the poisonous note. Feeling marginally calmer after a few moments, she again picked up the letter. They have known each other only a matter of days, and yet, he has already taken her to bed. If the full truth be told, however distasteful we might find it, your ladyship, your son and this woman were in bed together before they had known one another even as long as a single hour. Now, she is forcing him to marry her, on account of his having seduced and dishonored her. But, my lady, if the truth were known, it was your son who was seduced and manipulated and dishonored, not the woman in question. For how can a person without honor be dishonored? Caroline reread the last lines a number of times, unwilling to believe the truth of them. How in the world could Justin—who in spite of his numerous faults, was not stupid—how could Justin become involved with such an odious creature? Caro smirked. How else, she thought, the woman is beautiful. How many of a woman's faults are overlooked if she is comely and willing?, the Dowager wondered cynically before she returned her eyes to the letter. Do not think too harshly of your son. The woman is from a good family. She is also an excellent actress who is capable of projecting a demure and acceptable appearance when that is necessary. Any man would find it difficult not to fall under her spell. As I have said, she is from a good family, a noble family. But, as we all know, to our profound sorrow, family connections are not a sufficient measure of the morality or worth of the person. No matter how good the bloodline is, eventually, there will be an unacceptable person come from it. Perhaps, her lack of morality is not all her fault. After all, her mother died in giving birth to her. And her father, who had relocated to America before the revolution, had entrusted her, even as an infant to the care of a household negress. People in America were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt after the deaths of her uncle, husband, father and lover. However, she has now sold off the majority of her American properties and has come to England in search of a wealthy titled husband and a new life. Caroline shut her eyes and silent wished to High Holy Heaven that Richard had not been the child to die. If she had to lose a son, why could it have not been Justin? Heaven knew that Justin had been in enough dangerous situations where he could have been killed. That scar down the side of his face had come from one such encounter at sea. Why couldn't it have been Justin who died? Richard had been the child of her heart, but Justin had never been anything except trouble to her. Why her grandson, Jared, had to die along with his father, was something Caro could not comprehend. If Jared had lived, there would have been no doubt of any scandal attached to the name of Rivington. Jared had been a good, tractable, boy, not at all like Justin. She knew that she could wish for the situation to be different from now until the Second Coming, but that she had to live within the reality of the circumstances. Things could have been worse. Caro had never been able to bring herself to love her youngest son, a fact Justin knew only too well. Yet, he behaved towards her with an amazing amount of tolerance and affection. All of which made Caro feel all the more guilty for not being able to love the boy—correction, man—who was a masculine version of herself. The fact that he continued to treat her with respect and tolerance puzzled Caro. Justin could have insisted that she remove herself to either the Dower house, or to, God forbid, one of the houses in Scotland. He could have cut her off without a half-penny in addition to the meager widow's jointure which George, in his wrath, had settled upon her. But, so far, he had not done either of those things. Both actions were well in his power. So, whatever course of action she decided to take in connection with Justin's involvement with this woman, she knew that she would have to move gently and behind the scenes, both methods of which were in total contrast to her normal way of doing things. Unable to think clearly, the Countess returned her attention to the missive before her. My lady, I simply thought that you should know about this situation. Perhaps, I pray God, that you will have the ability to put an end to the affaire before any permanent damage is done to the name of Rivington. I would fear for my very life, if she should discover that I have warned you about her. I pray you not to mention

this letter to anyone. In writing to you, I have put myself, and you, gravely at risk, for I have no doubt that she would do murder rather than see her dirty secrets exposed to English society. So, I caution you, my lady, to be careful what you say to whom about her. The woman has a temper to match her red hair. Do not underestimate her ability for chicanery, my lady, for it surpasses any such ability I have ever seen in any other person. Beware of her. I remain—your friend. Lady Caroline folded the anonymous letter carefully. “What to do?” she murmured. “About what, Mother?” Justin asked as he walked into the room. “Justin! When did you arrive?" “Just this minute,” he replied. “Is there any tea in the pot?" “No. I'll ring for some." “Thank you, Mother. Now what was it that you were wondering about?" His mother rang the call for the servants. A young woman came immediately. “Yes, ma'am?" “Another pot of tea, Emily." “Yes, ma'am,” the maid replied with a curtsy before she removed the silver pot from the table. Justin tried again. “It has to be an unusual event for it to reduce you to talking to yourself, Mother. Would you care to tell me what is troubling you?" Caroline looked at her son, appraisingly. She sighed, “It's just that I have an invitation to a house party at the Blansforth's. I would hate to go, if you have truly lost interest in young Maria. It would be cruel to allow their expectations of bringing you up to scratch to remain high, if you have no intention of marrying the young lady." Justin smiled. “No, Mother, I never had any interest in her to lose. The chit bores me to tears with her simpering ways. And she always has." “I see...” Lady Caroline replied tightly. “It's just that the Blansforth's have given us one Countess, in Julia. They had hoped that their youngest daughter might also become the Countess of Lytton." “Richard loved Julia, Mother. The only thing which I feel for Maria is a vague sense of boredom,” Justin said. Caroline sighed. “There must be an heir to the Lytton title, Justin. You aren't growing any younger." “I am aware of that, Mother,” Justin replied. “I am working on the problem." “You've met someone?” Caroline asked. “Do I know her?" “No, Mother, I don't believe that you do." “OH?” Caro said, with a definite raise of an eyebrow, in query. “I trust that she is a proper lady and not one of your London ladybirds. I will not have a member of the Muslin set in my family." Justin glared at his mother. “Mother! One day you shall impose once too often on my affection for you." Caro wasn't fooled by the quietness of his words. She had heard and understood the thread of steel in them. The older woman gazed into eyes so much like her own. “Justin, I know everyone of consequence in the

Polite World. If I do not know this woman then she is not of the ton,” she stated flatly. “What else am I to think?" “Frankly, Mother, I do not care in the least what you think,” Justin replied. “But, if it sets your overly active mind to ease, the woman is a Lady, in every sense of the word." The dowager looked appraisingly at her son. Caro had no doubt that this new woman would be unacceptable as a bride for the Earl of Lytton. But, how was she to take action against the unsuitable woman? It was a delicate situation. “While I would wish you every happiness, Justin, I have to admit to concern any time that you would allow your desires to outstrip your sense of duty. The next Countess of Lytton will have to possess certain qualities to be able to run the estate. I daresay that those mundane matters do not occur to a man as he looks at a woman. Tell me something of the current object of your affections." “It is a bit early for me to talk about the lady when we have only just met a few days ago. I know that she intrigues—no, it would be more accurate to say that she fascinates—me,” Justin told his mother. “Then I would assume that she is not a china doll beauty?" Justin shook his head. “No, definitely not the china doll type,” he replied. “With china dolls, one is always afraid of acting or saying as he feels out of fear of cracking the delicate sensibilities of the woman." “And you have no such compulsion with this woman?” Caro countered. “I wonder if that is good. Conventions serve to protect both men and women. There are good reasons why certain subjects are considered unworthy of women's ears. For you to contemplate a union with a woman to whom you feel no obligation to protect from the darker side of reality, is not a thing which I wish to contemplate. For your sake, as well as for hers." “Now, Mother! You are always lecturing me on finding a woman and settling down. I find it interesting that you are changing your tune at this late date." “I suppose that it could have been worse. You could have gone to your Uncle Henry, gotten a special license, and presented the woman to me, your marriage a fait accompli,” Caro said reflectively. “You are rather getting ahead of yourself, Mother. I have no idea of whether the lady would even have me or not. Besides, she is in mourning. It would be most improper for me to approach her with an offer of marriage, at this time." “You've never been one to allow conventions to limit you,” Caro observed. Justin laughed softly. “That is most likely true." “Why is this situation different?" Justin looked thoughtfully at his mother. “Perhaps, it is that the lady is different." “Is she? How? Tell me about her,” Caro prodded. “I should imagine that you shall meet her soon enough,” Justin replied. “Of course while I hope that you should like her, your sentiments toward her will in no way affect my actions." “I shall be meeting her?” Caro replied in confusion. “How shall I be meeting her?" “She is our new neighbor. Lady Theodousia Langley. She and the young Marquis, her brother, will be taking up residence at Seahaven." Caroline's mind sought out what little she knew of Theodousia Crawford Langley. Widowed. Wealthy. Caroline hated to admit it, but some of what was written in that letter applied to Theodousia. Maybe all of it did. This meant that she had to be even more cautious. Jon would not take kindly to anyone as much as gossiping about his niece. And even if she hadn't valued his friendship, she respected his power.

“She is still in mourning for her father?” Caro asked. “Yes." “How did he die, I have forgotten?" “He was killed by a housebreaker." “How awful,” Caro said quietly, trying unsuccessfully to reconcile this information with the intelligence contained in the letter. “It was, rather." Caro looked at her son. It was clear to her that the boy cared about this Theodousia. That only made things worse. There had to be a Rivington heir. But, if Justin was seriously involved with this woman, he would not be looking for a suitable wife. The relationship had to be crushed. But how was she to do that? Jon would make a formidable enemy. She didn't wish to arouse his ire. So whatever actions she would eventually take, they would have to be extremely discreet. “Do you know when she will be moving into Seahaven?” Caro asked in a far too casual tone. “Within a week or so, I believe is what Jon said. He'll be escorting her down for the weekend so that she can look the place over." Caro smiled. “Then shall we have them over for dinner on the Saturday when they are in the neighborhood? Surely, it would be too much to expect Mrs. Matthews to come up with a presentable dinner for them, seeing that they are so short-handed over at Seahaven." “I doubt that she will want to move about in society too much, considering she is still in black gloves,” Justin said as he wondered just what mischief his mother was attempting to work now. It was unlike her to give up on any project she had set her mind upon. He could not believe that she was surrendering so easily the notion of matchmaking between him and Maria Blansforth. No, he decided finally that Mother was up to some other mischief. “Don't talk fustian, Justin,” Caro chided. “Jon and I have been friends for over forty years. We are to be neighbors to his niece and nephew. There is no possible harm in her coming to a small family dinner. There will only be the four of us." “Rather think again, Mother. There would be the Duke, his niece, the Countess of Clairborne..." “Elinor? Why should Elinor be concerned? Surely, she is far too busy in Shropshire with tending to her horses?” the Dowager asked in surprise. “Lady Elinor will be chaperoning her niece for quite some time, I believe,” Justin said. Lady Caroline smiled broadly in amusement. “I wonder how Jon was able to manipulate Elinor into that. I would hardly think that it was at all her cup of tea, would you? Of course with Clairborne in India, of all places, she is most likely looking for something to keep her occupied." “I am certain that I do not know,” Justin replied, sharing his mother's grin. “Oh, well then, instead of four of us, I shall invite the Vicar as well, and make it a party of six,” Caro replied amusedly. “That should be amusing, should it not?" “She may not wish to come, as she is still in mourning,” Justin warned. “Pooh! Dinner with an old family friend and her new pastor can hardly be construed as breaking mourning, even to a high stickler, which I cannot believe that the woman is, having come from America.” The Dowager Countess made America sound as though it should be the dark side of the moon.

“Well, I suppose that you could send a note asking His Grace and company to join us for dinner Saturday." “So I shall,” she responded as she rose from the table. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to change in order to prepare to make my calls in the neighborhood." “Of course, Mother. Shall I accompany you?" Caroline laughed quietly. “Not unless you have suddenly developed a burning desire to learn all about the intricacies of pickled peaches, plum preserves, the latest London fashions, and how to choose just the right shade of embroidery floss." “Then, I shall closet myself with Smithers and bring myself up to date on the current state of affairs on the estate,” Justin said quietly, a wry smile on his face. “You do that,” Caro told him in relief. The last thing that she wanted was to have Justin accompany her today. There was work to be done. She was hesitant to start too many rumors and speculations about Jon's niece, since she did not know for a fact that the charges in the letter were absolutely true. But, she could easily raise enough interest in the woman to make a fertile ground for any rumors she might plant at some later date. **** Jon reread the note that had been delivered by a liveried footman from Lytton Hall late that afternoon. Dear Jon, I understand that you and your lovely niece will be in the neighborhood next weekend. I understand that she is still in deep mourning for her father, but I cannot think it improper for her to meet some of the neighbours, particularly me. Since it seems that Justin has taken quite an interest in the woman, I must confess to possessing a burning curiosity about your niece. So, I would like it very much if you, your niece, and, of course, dear Elinor, would do me the honor of sharing dinner with the Earl and myself on Saturday evening at Lytton Hall. It will be a small party, I promise. Not even the highest stickler could fault your niece for having dinner with a near neighbour. Send your reply back with my man, s'il vous plait. Caro Jon laughed. It was so much like Caro to write a note like this one. Direct, to the point, that is the way that she had always been. Perhaps it was the reason he had originally been attracted to her. Whatever it was, he was determined to win her over. Saturday night would be the time to press his suit. The twenty-five miles between Winton Abbey and Seahaven seemed to stretch out forever. The coachman was obviously in no hurry to get there. But, at least they weren't tottering along at two miles an hour. The time at Uncle Jon's had been tense. Dousia's sentiments towards Edward were not any better now than they had been the first time that she met him. She still did not trust him as far as she could pick him up and throw him. She had spent the week going over the books for Seahaven. Although there was nothing out of the ordinary about the accounts, on first glance, and all of the accounts did balance, something indefinable continued to bother her about the ledgers. Something did not seem right. Dousia wondered if she was channeling her instant dislike for Edward into a series of questions as to his honesty. She did not want to construct a case against him where none existed, basically because she realized just how damaging it could be to be the object of an unreasonable and unfounded suspicion. Still, the feeling that something was wrong, terribly wrong, at Seahaven continued to linger. There was no need to worry, she told herself repeatedly. After all, she would find out soon enough if there was actually any cause for her concern. Dousia realized that she had been woolgathering when her Aunt Elinor spoke to her sharply, “And what do

you think of that, Dousia?" Jon laughed quietly. “I believe, Elinor that you caught our niece napping." “More likely daydreaming,” Elinor answered amusedly. “Just thinking, actually,” Dousia replied in embarrassment. “Must have been deep thoughts,” Jon replied. “Not particularly, Uncle Jon,” she responded with a small smile before turning to her aunt. “I was just mentally retallying the ledgers." “There are times, Niece, that I do believe you care more for money than for anything else." “No, Uncle. I simply take care for Will. Seeing him suitably established is something Father would have wanted. Now, what were you saying, Aunt Elinor?" “I was saying that I thought it was time you lighten your mourning a bit. Perhaps even to go into half mourning,” Elinor suggested. “No. I don't think that is at all a good idea. Besides, to be perfectly honest, full mourning gives me the opportunity to get my feet planted firmly before I have to deal with the business of receiving all manner of callers at Seahaven." Elinor shook her head. “Now, Dousia...” she chided. “Yes, Aunt?" “Don't try turning me up sweet. I am serious. This is August. You have been in deep mourning for almost eight months. No one would think any the less of you, if you decided to go into gray or even into purple." “Purple? With my complexion? Now, that would be a sight ... ! Besides, don't you know, by now, Aunt, that I do not actually care, one way or the other, about what people think of me?" Elinor sighed. “Someday, Dousia, you will come to regret your sharp tongue." Dousia's eyes sparkled with mischief. “As you have, Aunt?" Jon laughed. “Ah ... Elinor ... do you ever marvel that we have lived so long?" Elinor smiled. “In my case, Jonathan, it is a case of living a clean life, however, I suspect, that in yours, it is merely a case of neither side knowing what to do with you, your being too bad for Heaven and not bad enough for Hell." “Now, you two. For shame,” Dousia interceded with a smile. “I don't envy you the task of raising that nevvy of mine,” Elinor said. “He is entirely too much like his Uncle Jonathan was at that age.” Elinor's eyes sparkled with mischief. “Except, of course, for the fact that the boy is far more intelligent than Jon ever was, even at the height of his faculties." Jon cleared his throat. “Would you listen to her now? The next thing you know, she will be accusing me of being in my dotage." “Never, Uncle. You are far too stubborn to give into such things." “I still cannot get over how much that boy reminds me of his father and uncle at that age,” Elinor stated with a shake of her head. “And how would you know, puss?” Jon challenged. “William and I were well into our teens before you deigned

to make your birth cry." “I read Mother's diary. She chronicled your lives from the day of your birth until the day of her death,” Elinor said lightly. “And a worse pair of hellions, no mother ever had." “By all the accounts which my father gave me, you were not exactly angelic during your youth, Aunt,” Dousia replied with a small smirk. Elinor smiled softly, and teased, “But, you see, the secret of having a good reputation, is to outlive those who know differently." Dousia smiled and laughed. “I shall keep it in mind, Aunt,” she replied with mock solemnity as the coach rolled to a stop before the three story Georgian brick building which was Seahaven. The household staff was down to a skeleton crew: a cook/housekeeper, a dour faced woman named Mrs. Matthews; two maids, young and fairly pretty girls named Jenny and Betty; and a Butler, a hawk-nosed, too thin man named, ironically enough, Raven. The four of them were assembled in the front hall to meet the new mistress of the house. It was clear that she would have to engage more help. But, as she was going to London next week to see her solicitor in order to see to the matter of the marriage contract, the task of engaging household help could be accomplished then. There were only a few hours until they would have to leave Seahaven for Lytton Hall. Frankly, the prospect of meeting Justin's mother was not in the least thrilling to Dousia. Rather than sit and brood over it, however, she opted to explore the house and make notes of any changes that had to be made. There wasn't time to explore the grounds just now, but she could do that on Sunday afternoon. **** Lady Caroline sat with her son in the blue salon at Lytton Hall. Hobbes, the butler, came inside. “My lady, the Reverend Dr. Leigh,” he announced as the rector, a man of Justin's age with whom Justin had been at Eton, entered the room. The Earl of Lytton rose to greet the local minister. After the amenities were exchanged, Quintin Leigh sat down. “Rector, what would you have to drink?” Justin asked as he walked over to the grog tray in the corner of the salon. Quintin smiled. The idea of being waited upon by his old friend, the Earl, was quite amusing. “A small sherry, I should think, my lord, would be a most welcome drink." Caro smiled. “I am so happy that you could join us this evening, Doctor Leigh." “The honor is all mine, my lady. I have been most curious about the new occupants of Seahaven. I relish the opportunity to meet His Grace's niece." Justin returned with the sherry. “I think that you will enjoy this, Quintin." “Thank you, Justin,” Quintin said with a wink. “Tell me, how are things in London?" “As they always are, this time of year. Hot, muggy, with most of the ton gone to the country." “So you've had no better luck in finding a wife? I have to admit that your wedding will be one marriage which I shall look forward to solemnizing,” Quintin replied. “And why would that be?” Justin replied with a small laugh. “What woman is going to look twice at me, when you are still available?"

Justin was unable to respond to his friend's good natured gibe as Hobbes came in announcing His Grace, the Duke of Winton, Her ladyship, the Countess of Clairborne, and Lady Theodousia Langley. The Dowager's eyes narrowed as she looked appraisingly at Theodousia. “Jon, Elinor, how good it is to see you again!” Caro said gaily. “And this must be your niece, Theodora. I would recognize her anywhere. She looks so much like her grandmother did." Dousia cleared her throat. “It is always flattering to be told that one favors a beautiful ancestress,” she said with a spark of mischief in her eyes. “However, my name is Theodousia, not Theodora." Caro just stood there, silent, at the shock of being called to task over her deliberately casual slur against the woman. Silence reigned in the room as the two women's eyes met and held. Jon and Justin, recognizing the danger signs, both moved in to diffuse the situation. But, before either of them could say anything, Caro laughed softly, recovering her poise. “Of course, I do beg your pardon, my lady Theodousia. It is simply that your name is so ... unusual." Dousia laughed softly, throatily, “'Tis a mere trifle, my lady Caroline. Pray, do not take my previous words as an insult." Caroline's gray eyes darkened into a shade that could only be described as slate. “My dear, I have been insulted by the best of them,” she replied with a small laugh, “I assure you that I am more than capable of returning the favor above and beyond the degree which was granted me." “Somehow, my lady Caroline, I have no doubt of that in the least,” Dousia replied. “Then, we shall get along famously,” Caroline informed her in a voice which belied her words, “as we have a rare understanding of one another." “I should hope so, inasmuch as we shall be near neighbors. I would hate for the Rector there to have to write his bishop with an explanation of why he saw fit to ex-communicate either or both of us on account of a silly quarrel,” Dousia said with a good deal of humor in her voice. “I believe that you know my son,” Caroline responded, changing the subject. “My lady,” Justin acknowledged with a smile. “How are you, this evening, my Lord Lytton?" “Tolerably well. Much better for your company,” he replied with a large smile. “Lady Langley, may I present the Right Honorable Reverend Doctor Quintin Leigh. Quintin, this is Lady Langley,” Justin said with a smile. “The two of you should have some measure of commonality since her father was a man of the cloth." “Doctor Leigh,” Dousia replied with a nod of her head. “My lady, how good it is to meet you.". “Justin, get our guests something to drink,” Caroline said. “Your Grace, I have had a bottle of that Italian wine of which you were so fond, decanted." Jon Crawford smiled at Caroline. “Splendid. I am delighted that you went to the trouble." Caro shrugged elegantly. “It was no trouble at all, I assure you, Jon." They had no sooner finished their drinks than Hobbes came in, “My lady, dinner is served." “Jon, I would have your arm. Justin, if you would escort in the Countess, and Quintin, would you lend you arm to Lady Theodora?"

The arrangement of places around the dining room table saw Lady Caroline at the head of the table, Jon and Quintin seated at either of her hands, Justin at the foot of the table, Dousia seated between Quintin and Justin, and Aunt Elinor seated between Justin and Jon. Perfect boy girl, boy girl, boy girl arrangement. For what had been billed as a dinner with an old family friend, Lady Caroline had outdone herself. Rather inconsequential chatter lasted until after the soup plates had been cleared away. “Lady Theo, perhaps you will tell us something about yourself?” Caro prodded. “What is it that you wish to know?” Dousia replied, feeling uneasy, yet hoping that her uneasiness did not display itself in her voice. “Why, anything which you think is important to our understanding of you, of course,” Caro countered. Shutters almost visibly closed over Dousia's face. She took a large sip of the wine before her. “I fear that I am a poor topic, indeed, for conversation." “Surely not,” Caroline prodded. “You have been widowed for a number of years. Surely the men in America are not all blind and stupid?" “Not at all. I am, however, in no hurry to remarry." “Do you not want children?” Caroline asked. Dousia smiled. “I like children. But, I do not feel at all deprived. My brother William is quite a boy. I've enjoyed watching him grow." “He's six, or is it seven?” Justin asked lightly. “Almost seven. It is hard to believe." “Wait until he is grown,” Caro countered amusedly. “You'll find it even harder to believe then." “I suspect that you are correct,” Dousia replied with a laugh. “There are times I wish that William were at his majority, so that the responsibility for him would be off my shoulders,” Dousia admitted quietly, feeling for the first time as though Justin's mother might actually come to like her. “Will you be sending William to school?” Quintin asked. Dousia shook her head negatively. “I think not. You see William is a rather special little boy." Caro interjected firmly, “They all are. But Eton does them a world of good." “Will is a ... how shall I phrase this...? Will is an extremely inquisitive child. He has a mind like nothing which I have ever encountered,” Dousia said. Jon chuckled. “That is a bit of an understatement. The boy's French is already better than mine. And, his mathematics are already sufficient that he can add columns in a ledger accurately in his head." “I'm afraid that comes of my holding him on my lap while I was doing the accounts for the shipyards,” Dousia replied with a shake of her head. “I've been guilty of indulging the boy, I fear." “You were involved in the management of a business?” Caro asked, shocked. “I've had good managers. But, even with the best of employees, it is not a good idea to leave matters entirely in the hands of hirelings,” Dousia explained. “How very astute of you,” Quintin observed, admiration in his voice. “I have seen too many estates and businesses dissolved because the owners trusted their employees too far,

” Dousia dismissed. “You are an extraordinary woman, my lady Theodousia. I don't suppose that you would consider marrying me?” Quentin spoke quietly to her after having conversed with her for some time. Silence reigned at the table. Dousia broke the tension with a small nervous laugh. “No, I am conscious of the honor that you do me by asking, however I must decline your generous offer. I fear that I should make an abysmal parson's wife." “I am not an abysmal parson,” Quentin teased. Dousia laughed. “I believe that I shall reserve judgment on that until I've heard you preach tomorrow,” she teased in return. The discussion became general until after dessert when the ladies left the men to their port and cigars. “Quentin,” Justin said strongly, “I want you to know something." Jon shot Justin a warning look. Quentin picked up on the tension in the room, yet did not know the cause. “What, Justin?" “As you value our friendship, stay away from Lady Theodousia,” Justin warned. “The lady is single and uncommitted, as far as I can determine." Jon cleared his throat, yet said nothing. “I intend to marry her,” Justin said. Quentin blinked a couple of times. “Just like that? Does she not have any say in the matter?” he countered. “Of course, she does,” Justin said. Quentin smiled at his friend. “So, you will leave the field clear?" “When hell freezes over,” Quentin replied firmly. Justin looked over at Jon imploringly. “This is not to become public knowledge, I would have your word that nothing which I am about to tell you will go any further than this room,” Jon said. “Of course, your Grace,” Quentin replied. Jon continued, but speaking in rapid French, so that any servants overhearing the conversation would be unable to understand what was being said. “Next week, Justin and Dousia are signing the betrothal contracts. She has already accepted his proposal. But, since she still is in mourning they are waiting until her mourning period is over until making any announcement. “Only the three of us, now the four of us, know of the betrothal. The wedding will probably be in February." Quentin looked to his friend for confirmation. “I see...” Quentin replied. Then he switched to French to congratulate Justin. Jon cleared his throat. “Shall we join the ladies?"

The conversation with the ladies was general and desultory until the gentlemen joined them. “Theodousia, would you care to join our parish sewing circle on Tuesday?” Caro asked quietly. “I am afraid that I cannot, this Tuesday. Unfortunately, I shall be in London." “London?” Quintin asked. “I must see my solicitor and banker,” she explained. “And engage at least a chef and a nanny for Seahaven." Quintin smiled softly. “Well, be careful on the roads between here and London. They are not the world's best." “Oh, I have no intention of driving there. Once along those roads is quite enough, thank you. My yacht is moored near Seahaven. I shall be sailing into London,” Dousia replied with a smile. “Surely you aren't contemplating sailing from Seahaven into London, alone?” Caro asked quietly in shock. “Aunt Elinor will be along,” Dousia replied amusedly. “Although, I suspect that she will spend the majority of her time below decks, most likely with a case of mal de mer." Elinor protested, “I resent that implication. I happen to be a good sailor." Dousia chuckled. “That news comes as a great relief, Aunt." “I should like to see this yacht of yours,” Justin said firmly. “Anytime,” Dousia replied. “I have to be in London next week. Suppose that I sail with you." Dousia nodded. “As you wish." **** Dousia wasn't quite certain, but she felt that the dowager's warmth was about as genuine as a cut glass ‘ diamond'. If Justin hadn't promised not to tell his mother about their betrothal, Dousia would have thought that the woman was trying to chase her away. Lost in her thoughts, Dousia didn't realize that Caro had asked her anything. “I asked if you would favor us with a tune upon the pianoforte,” Caro restated. “No,” Dousia replied with a dismissive shake of the head, “I do not play that instrument." Caro looked puzzled. “Surely you are jesting. Every lady of quality has some pretension to musical ability. Even a miss just out of the schoolroom like Maria Blansforth can play the pianoforte creditably. But, perhaps music was not highly stressed in your upbringing in the colonies?" “One day, my lady, I shall reciprocate for your hospitality of this evening. Then you will see the level of my musical ability. Unfortunately, I did not bring my instrument with me,” Dousia replied quietly, hoping that Justin's mother would take the words at face level. “I shall look forward to it,” Caro replied. Oh, I imagine that you shall, my lady Caroline, Dousia thought cynically. But, personally, the less time that I have to spend with you, the better that I shall like it. I wonder what Uncle Jon sees in you, anyway?

Chapter Five “So,” Lady Caroline said, addressing the tall, thin, dark haired, blue eyed, well dressed, middle aged, man seated across the room from her in the Silver Salon at Lytton Hall. “You know what I wish for you to do?"

“Certainly, my lady,” Ivo Bates replied with self-assurance. “You are aware that, if I accept the job, it shall be more than a month before I can reach America. And it will be at least another six weeks after that before even a sketchy preliminary report can reach you." “Yes, I know that, Bates. The woman is still in mourning. I have a few months until she is moving about in society. You know the extent of the accusations against her. I want to find out if they are accurate." “Are you certain that you want to know? Would it not be better to forget about these rambling accusations?” Bates asked. “If your son has actually compromised her, she may be with child. Your grandchild, my lady, the next Earl, could be growing within her womb, even as we now speak, which would mean that the marriage, whether you like it or not, is likely to be imminent." Caro shook her head. “That is not something which I wish to think about. If the allegations are true, Bates, I must do everything in my power to protect my son from this woman. Justin is a very wealthy man in his own right, aside from the entail. He has had the devil's own luck on the exchange using his prize money from his years of naval service." “If I take the job, my lady, I will make a thorough investigation. That letter is not going to influence me, one way or the other. Personally, I find it highly unlikely that the allegations in the letter are correct. I find it highly unlikely that serious charges would be dropped for a second time, if her reputation in the community had honestly been that bad." “If she has the habits of a black widow spider, I do not want her next target to be my son,” Caro declared. Bates nodded in agreement. “Of course, you wish to protect your son. If anything untoward happens to him, you would be forced to deal with your nephew, Radburn, who would then be the next Earl of Lytton. That would not be a pleasant thing for you. I can't imagine that the Lytton dower house is anywhere near this luxurious. Nor do I imagine that you would be able to afford the services of that French modiste, Madame LaRoux, should your pocket be suddenly limited to the more than adequate, but somewhat less than you are accustomed to living upon, amount of your widow's jointure." “You were not hired to investigate me, nor to question my motives, Bates,” Caro replied. “I do not at all appreciate your having obviously asked questions about me." “Oh, I haven't been hired, yet, at all, my lady. You've told me what you wish for me to do, yet I have not accepted the assignment,” Bates said with narrowed eyes. “Surely, you do not mean to refuse the assignment?" “I simply wished for you to know that I am aware that under other circumstances, particularly if the allegations about Theodousia Langley are true, you would gladly wish the Langley woman upon your son, if that action would not potentially impoverish you,” Bates said. “You are impertinent,” Caro chided. “I prefer to think of it as being honest,” Bates replied. “All I ask from any client is that they be honest with me. If you cannot bring yourself to be totally frank with me, I have no desire to take on the case." Caro's gray eyes narrowed. “I thoroughly dislike you, Bates." “I believe that, my lady. However, it is not at all germane to these proceedings,” he stated. “Now, do you wish for me to do the investigation, given my stated personal opinions, or not? It is entirely your choice." “My solicitor assures me that you are the best man available for the job,” Caro replied. “If this is actually how you wish to proceed, then I'll book passage on a ship for America as soon as that is possible. I shall need some expense money." Lady Caroline nodded, and rose. She walked over to her desk. Opening a drawer, she removed a bundle of

banknotes. “Here is a thousand pounds. Another two thousand pounds will be yours upon the completion of the project, as per our agreement." “Regardless of the conclusions which I draw from the investigation?" “Regardless of the conclusions,” Caro replied. “It would seem to me that there would be a far simpler solution to this problem,” Bates observed. “And what would that be?” Caro demanded. “Arrange a marriage between her and some impecunious person. There are enough young second and third sons of the gentry who would be only too happy to wed an heiress, even if he had to carry her off to Scotland to accomplish that,” Ivo Bates said. “A small bribe in a certain section of town would do quite marvelously toward accomplishing the task." Caro looked at the detective carefully, weighing his words. Then she shook her head negatively. “No, her uncle is too powerful to allow something like that to remain unchallenged." “Then there is another option. A very public disgrace could be arranged for her. Something which could not do anything except turn your son against her. Possibly it could be arranged to have the lady found in a compromising position with another man. Barring that, certain bits of gossip could effectively ruin her." “I am not a vindictive person, Bates. I do not wish to harm the Langley woman unless that is absolutely necessary to protect my son from her, and then only if the rumors are true." Ivo Bates looked at her as though he failed to believe her. “This all could be an elaborate ruse designed to arouse my anger. If it is, I do not wish to fall into the trap laid for me. There is far too much at stake." “Such as the fact that His Grace, the Duke of Winton, the lady's uncle, has on several occasions offered marriage to you?" “I only hope that you do as thorough a job digging up information about Theodousia Langley as you have done in investigating me." Bates shrugged. “You stand convinced that there is reason to believe the allegations in the letter? There is nothing that I can say to convince you not to take this action?" Caro nodded. “I do believe that I have cause to look into the matter." Bates inclined his head slightly toward the dowager. “Well, my lady, I am sure that you know best. You can certainly afford the privilege of making a fool out of yourself, if this turns out to be a hoax. I would advise you, however, not to talk to anyone about this matter. Say nothing about receiving the letter. And, if I were you, I would go out of my way to be neighbourly to Lady Langley. The last thing you need is to have either your son or Winton comprehend the animosity which you bear towards Lady Langley." The Dowager drew herself up straight in her chair. “I do not believe that I need lessons in comportment from you, Bates,” Caro informed him. Bates shrugged. “Now, if there is nothing else, I shall be on my way. After I arrive in Virginia, I shall be sending you a report each week until such time as I can finish the investigation." “That will be quite satisfactory, Bates. Thank you. And I do not have to remind you that this matter must remain confidential?" Ivo Bates chuckled humorlessly. “No, my lady, that is entirely unnecessary. By your leave, my lady?" ****

Dousia and Justin sat in the office of her solicitor. Winston Ruggers, Dousia's solicitor, was a young man, with a prematurely receding hairline, and a pair of the deepest brown, nearly black, eyes she had ever seen. Elinor was seated on a long sofa against the wall, present for propriety's sake. “I have the copies of the contracts here,” Attorney Ruggers said quietly as he handed them each a copy. Everything was as it had been agreed. Dousia quickly read each of the other copies, to make certain that they were exactly the same, before she signed each one. Justin, satisfied that if there had been any irregularities that Dousia would have been the first to point them out, simply signed each copy as she handed them to him. The formalities having been taken care of, Attorney Ruggers rang for Tucker, his secretary. It was only a moment later when the man brought in a bottle of champagne on ice, along with four glasses. “It isn't every day that we have a betrothal to celebrate,” Ruggers said with a smile. “I wanted to be the first to wish you two happy." Dousia swallowed hard, then looked at Justin. He smiled at her. “Lady Theodousia and I thank you for your good wishes. But, we can't remind you enough that we wish for the matter to be kept quiet until such time as we are willing to announce it ourselves." Ruggers smiled, “Of course, my lord. Would you have some of this most excellent champagne?" Justin smiled broadly. “Naturally, it is a cause for celebration. It is not every day that a man contracts to marry such a charming and unique woman." “Nor a woman, such a man,” Dousia replied. They drank a toast to their happiness. Dousia felt completely trapped, but she knew that it would do very little good to show her growing sense of panic. “Well, my lady, what do you have planned for the immediate future?” Ruggers asked. “I have to check on things down at the shipyard before I return to Seahaven. I have some staff members for the house to hire. Then I must return to put things in order for William,” Dousia replied. “Of course. You mentioned something in your letter about a set of ledgers not seeming correct?” Ruggers asked matter-of-factly. Dousia smiled. “That is what I said. Can you send me a good accountant for a period of not more than a month?" “I know a most excellent auditor. That is if you are not adverse to having a woman look over your books?” Ruggers replied with a smile. Dousia laughed. “I should think that would do wonderfully. I shall be ready to leave London in a few days. You could send her to me anytime after the first of next week." Justin escorted the ladies, by means of his closed carriage, to the Clairborne townhouse in Berkeley Square. “I should like a word or two with you in private,” Justin told Dousia as they arrived at the house. “Very well,” Dousia agreed. “May we use your library, Aunt?" “Of course,” she said, graciously as she led them to the library door and softly closed it behind them. “Pray, be at ease, my lord,” Dousia said quietly as she removed her bonnet and placed it along with her reticule and fan on the long oak table which sat beneath the gilt-edged mirror along the west wall of the oak-paneled room. Justin walked over to her. “Will you tell me what it is that has you so blue-deviled?” he asked.

Dousia shook her head. “Pray do not concern yourself." He reached out and gently took a hold of her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “But I am concerned. Something is bothering you, and I should like to be able to assist you, if you will allow me to do so." “Does this situation bother you at all, my lord?" “Justin! My name is Justin. Please use it,” he replied. “Justin, does the situation bother you in the least?” she countered. “While we don't abominate one another, I daresay that we aren't madly in love either." “That may be just as well. People blinded by love tend to make very silly decisions. At least, we are going into marriage with our eyes fully open ... The only thing bothering me, Dousia, my dear, is that you are insisting on waiting so long to marry me." Carefully, she backed away from him. “You are most ... anxious ... for us to be together?” she replied in a nervous tone. Justin's eyes darkened with desire. “I want to be with you. I want you to be fully mine. I want to see your body swelling with my child ... our child. I want to wake up each morning and see your face smiling at me. I want to...” He cleared his throat, as he saw her blush. His lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. “It would be most improper for me to discuss in any further detail what I want." He reached out and lightly stroked her cheek. “You blush so very prettily." “We do not know each other that well, yet. There may be something about me, which, upon further acquaintance, you will find that you cannot tolerate. Something which may make you grow to hate me." “Is there anything in particular about your past which you wish to tell me?” Justin asked. “I assure you that I will not grow upset over the number of lovers whom you've had, or any such nonsense, as long as that remains in the past. You are a passionate woman. It would have been unreasonable to expect you to have been completely celibate since your husband died. Before you respond, I am aware that it is an unconventional concept." Dousia shook her head negatively as she fought back a blush. “No, Justin. I've never taken a lover. I've had neither the time nor the inclination to do so. Almost all my life, with the exception of the year in which I acted as hostess for my uncle, Peter Richardson, and the short time that I was married, I have lived with my father.” She chuckled humorlessly. “Believe me, although he would have happily married me off, he would not have taken fornication lightly." Justin smiled softly. “In that respect, you are your father's daughter." Dousia turned away from him so that he could not see her face. “You realize that you are making me feel even more guilty than I already do?” Justin questioned. “That is not my intention. If it is any consolation, I have forgiven you for the incident at the inn,” Dousia replied as she turned to face him. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth. “You are too good." She cleared her throat. “No. I am not good, at all. For both of our sakes, let's not go into marriage with unreasonable illusions about one another. I know my faults and freely own to them. I am opinionated, stubborn..." “Loving, gentle, dutiful, passionate...” he interjected with a smile. “Those are faults?” she asked with a small smile on her face and mischief in her eyes.

He laughed, but did not answer. Instead, he moved to pull her into his arms. Suddenly, the shutters were back over her eyes. He could almost see them come down. Quickly, she crossed the room, and pretended to be absorbed in looking at books. “Surely,” he said as he walked up behind her, coming to stand near enough so that she could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, so that she could feel the heat of his breath in her hair, “you aren't afraid that I will harm you? Surely, you must know better than that." She began to step away from him to prevent herself from turning in his arms and offering him her lips. Yet, as she started to move, he took hold of her arm and swung her around to face him. Before she knew it, she was being kissed with all the tenderness, all the respect, in the world. But the tenderness gradually changed into something far warmer as the heady drug of sensual pleasure completely swamped her senses. She allowed herself to be folded into the circle of the strength of his arms, as she was gently molded onto the very masculine length of his hard body. The drug of his kiss spread throughout her body until she thought that she would melt in his arms. She found herself trembling with the growing desire she felt for him. Dousia was more than merely content in his arms as the heat of the passion he obviously felt for her ignited her desire, sending it to a fevered pitch. She began tentatively to return his kiss. Her fingers laced themselves among the blonde strands of his hair in order to hold him closer to her. The small, involuntary, cry of intense need she uttered as his lips moved from hers to blaze a trail across her chin to her ear was almost more than Justin could tolerate; as was the raggedness of her breathing. Of course, his breath was coming no more evenly than her own. His tongue teased at the hollow of her ear before his teeth gently tugged at the earlobe. Then he nuzzled her neck before he swept her into his arms and carried her to the sofa. “Put me down,” Dousia commanded. Justin smiled at her. “Of course, my dear,” he replied throatily as he lowered himself and her to the sofa, bringing her to sit firmly upon his lap. Before she could protest, his lips recaptured hers. Again, he was gentle, persuading, nibbling sensually upon her bottom lip, until she was beyond reasoning, beyond thinking, deep into the territory where all she could do was to surrender to the waves of emotion which he was stirring within her. The tender expertise of his lovemaking was such that she did not even realize that he had taken the combs from her hair, allowing her auburn tresses to flow freely down her back. “You are so beautiful,” Justin murmured. “No ... ! Please,” she said mournfully as she pulled herself from his arms and crossed the room on shaking legs. She looked, disgustedly, at herself in the gilt-edged mirror for the longest of minutes. Anyone looking at her would be of no doubt that she had been well and truly kissed. She remembered the one time that she had walked into her father's study without knocking and discovered him and her stepmother, Martha, in what could only be called a very compromising position. Still, Martha's face had not looked any more flushed than Dousia's did at this moment. Absentmindedly, she wound her hair into a twist and secured it with the combs. “I like your hair much better down,” Justin said quietly as he walked up behind her. She looked at his reflection in the mirror. There were lines of strain on his face. She longed to stroke them away, but she dared not turn to him, to touch him. Dousia was only too aware of how little more of his

touches and kisses would be required to make her lose her head entirely. That was something she could not allow. “Will you not speak with me?” Justin asked. “I'll own that I behaved abominably in trying to seduce you only moments ago. Being alone with you is a profound strain on my self-control." She shook her head negatively. “You have nothing about which to apologize, Justin. You did nothing which I did not want,” she admitted. “That is the problem." Justin laughed. “You didn't seem to mind." “This confuses me, Justin,” she admitted, looking at his reflection, “this way that I feel when you are near me. ” Dousia lowered her eyes away from the reflection. “Why does it confuse you?” Justin asked. “Please tell me that you do not believe that destructive piece of folk wisdom which says that Ladies are not supposed to enjoy the act of loving." She swallowed hard before replying. “No, Justin. I recognize desire when it stirs,” she replied. “I...” She turned very red. “Justin ... I...” How would she find the words to tell him that the reason why she was confused was because she had only felt this way for one other man, a man whom she had loved? How could she tell him that feeling desire so strongly for him, that she thought that she loved him, yet how could she love him when love was something which grew slowly? Gently he turned her to face him. “We have some talking to do, Dousia. However, I do not believe that either of us is particularly in the mood to simply talk right now. Suppose that you go change into your riding habit. I believe that we both can use the exercise." “I could definitely use the exercise. But, I have to be back in less than two hours. An agency is sending over applicants this afternoon. I shall need to interview them,” she said, barely able to raise her eyes to his. **** Their ride was wonderful. London streets in summer were not terribly pleasant. Yet, without the crowds that plagued the streets during the season, they were able to make good time on this August afternoon. “I wish you luck finding adequate household staff members,” Justin said as he handed her down from her horse after their return to Clairborne house. “You could do more than wish me luck, Justin,” she replied. “You could sit in on the interviews. I have a feeling that I could use the moral support." Justin shook his head. “No, as much as I would like to be of service to you, my sitting in on the interview would lead to talk." Dousia nodded in agreement. “It was not the best of ideas. Will you come to dinner tomorrow night? If I find a chef with whom I believe that I can get along, I'll require that the person cook the meals tomorrow as a final test of his suitability." “And you would like to have someone else to commiserate with if the cook does not live up to expectations?” Justin teased. “Precisely, my lord,” Dousia replied with a smile and the mischievous twinkle returned to her eyes. “Minx!” he charged teasingly as he handed the reins of the horses over to a groom. **** Lady Caroline quickly masked her surprise at Jonathan's unexpected call. She had to suppress a shudder at the thought that if he had been only moments earlier, he would come during her interview with Ivo Bates. Caro was at a loss to say what was bothering her more about this visit; the fact that it was unexpected, or the fact

that he was calling upon her while he wore his riding dress. Always a stickler for proper dress, if Jonathan called while wearing riding clothes, the reason for the visit had to be out of the ordinary. “Your grace, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” she asked in surprise. Jonathan stood at the doorway to the Silver Salon at Lytton Hall admiring the woman who sat there so regally. She had always stunned him with her appearance. Today was no different. Gowned in a soft velvet morning gown that was an exact match for the color of her gray eyes, she was incredibly lovely. Aside from the stately silver color of her hair, Caroline Rivington could have been taken for a much younger woman. “Must I have a reason for calling on the most beautiful mature Lady in the neighborhood?" Caroline laughed. “Really, Jonathan! What am I to do with you? You still speak in the most flowery of phrases as you did when we were young." “Age, my dear, is in the mind. People are like fine wine, we get progressively more mellow with age." “Mellow? But, Jonathan, are you not aware that mellow is merely the first cousin to rotten?” she teased. He laughed. “Caro..." “Please, my lord, come in. Have a seat. I was just about to ring for tea. Will you join me, or perhaps you would like something stronger?" “Tea would be fine. I confess that I have been riding inspection on the fences all morning, and I have worked up a devilish thirst." Caroline rang for the butler. After the servant had left, she turned to Jonathan. “Riding inspection on the fences? Is there something amiss?" “My nevvy is missing about fifty head of sheep,” he said. Lady Caroline looked at him. “That's the third time in the last two years livestock has gone missing from Seahaven." “Yes." “I take it that there were no broken gates to be found, as usual?" “Whoever is stealing sheep from Seahaven has been clever enough not to get caught,” Jon replied. “I'll make a check with Justin's steward to see if any of our animals are missing." “Thank you, Caro. I hate to think how Dousia is going to react when she returns from London. Fifty head of sheep is a substantial enough of a loss to have to be brought to her attention." “Why to her attention? Surely, you are the boy's guardian?" “No. William left custody of his son to my niece." “That's right. I had forgotten. Justin told me that your niece had custody of little William." “I confess that I am glad that I am not responsible for him. Now I understand why my mother used to say that there was a reason why God gave children to the young,” Jon replied with a small smile. The butler returned with a tray containing a tea pot and two bone china cups, along with a plate of sandwiches and an assortment of small cakes. “Thank you, Henderson. That will be all." “Ah ... Caro, how many years have we known one another?"

She looked at the Duke. “Well over forty, I believe, your grace." “In all that time, have you ever known me to say something which I didn't mean, or to make an offer which I wasn't prepared to fulfill?" Caroline looked thoughtful. “No, Jon. I can't say that anyone ever has expressed doubts about your honesty.” A smile graced the older woman's face. “Your morality, is another question entirely,” she added in a soft, teasing voice with real affection. He cleared his throat. “Caro, I have been in love with you since the first moment that I laid eyes on you at your debutante ball. You know that." “Please, Jon. Don't...” she choked out. “Caroline, I would be the happiest man on earth if you would only consent to be my wife,” Jonathan continued, ignoring her last statement. “Jon, come here,” she said, patting the sofa cushion next to her. “Sit by me." His grace took both a position on the sofa and her hand. “Jon, I am most cognizant of the honor which you do me by asking..." “Don't say no, please Caro." “I'm afraid that I have to, Jon. This is the third time that you have proposed marriage to me. The first time that you asked when I was seventeen, I regretted having to tell you no. It will do no good to dwell on the reasons why I could not marry you, then." “George had seduced you,” Jon said. Lady Caroline's face lost all of its color. She swallowed hard. “Is that common knowledge, then?” she asked. Jon's hand tightened around hers. “No, it isn't common knowledge. It never was widely known. But, one night when he had come for one of our Chess games, old George was in his cups and told me the whole story of your marriage to him.” Jon's voice was gentle. “Or at least, he told his side of your marriage." The ashen color of her face became a bright red. “I see...” she finally said with some measure of difficulty. Very gently, Jon turned Caro's head so that she was looking at him. “No, Caro. Don't be embarrassed. I know that George wasn't the easiest man to live with. Any problems that the two of you had, should be buried with him." “I am not a warm person, Jon. I'm set in my ways. You would be miserable married to me." “I could not be any more miserable than I am being apart from you." “If I ever remarry, Jon, I would go to my new husband with almost nothing other than the clothes on my back. I would lose all rights to my widow's jointure. I have no other money of my own. George squandered my dowry in his gambling. It is ironic that he wasted only my money, while his own fortunes he doubled and almost nearly trebled,” she replied, pain in her voice. “I want you to be my wife. If the money bothers you, I can surely afford to settle an income on you which will exceed what George could afford,” Jon said gruffly. A rakish smile split the Duke's face, “As for your coming to me with only the clothes on your back,” he laughed, “darling, you could come to me in your shift and I would still take you." Caroline smiled. “And that, my dear, is precisely what I am afraid of."

“Marry me, Caroline. Let me make you happy." “No, Jon. I cannot marry you." “No?” the Duke replied silkily. “I think that I can change your mind about that.” He took her into his arms and with all the finesse his years had taught him, kissed her. Gently at first, then feeling her response, he allowed the passion to increase. Jon pulled away from her just enough to see her face flushed with desire. “Tell me that you will marry me,” he asked. “No, Jon. I will not marry you,” she replied in a small, pained voice. “I do not wish to marry anyone. I will not give a man that much control over me again,” Caroline added in a small, frightened voice as she blinked back the tears in her eyes. “I won't do it." Jon looked at her searchingly, before he replied, “Very well, Caroline. Goodbye.” He rose from the sofa. “Jon, we've been friends for such a long time. Are we to sacrifice our friendship because of my refusal to marry you?” she asked. Jon looked down at her. “Caro, I don't believe that I shall ever understand you." “Be my friend, Jon. You could have your choice of mistresses at a drop of the hat. But, a true friend is a treasure." Jonathan returned to his seat beside her. “Caro, I have been your friend for forty two years. I would like to be more than that to you,” he said. “From the way that you respond to my caresses, I know you feel some measure of desire for me, also." Lady Caroline smiled. “I am sixty-two years old, Jonathan. You should be thinking about marrying a younger woman. Someone who could give you an heir." “Sweetheart, don't you know that I want only you?” Jonathan replied. “I will not marry you, Jonathan. But, perhaps we could become ... I mean, if we both want..." Jon smiled at a thoroughly flustered Caroline. “No, Caro, I want you as my wife, not as my mistress." “This is all that I can offer you, Jon. Please try to understand. I never wish to remarry. I do not want to be at the mercy of another man." Jon took her hand and gently kissed it. “Know this, Caro, I am a determined man. I want you for my wife. I shall not give up the idea." Caro smiled at him. “When I am around you, my dearest, I feel like a schoolboy,” he said, his eyes darkening into the deepest of greens. “Jon,” she replied, “don't look at me that way." “How else should a man look at the woman he loves?" “Oh, Jon! Can you not be satisfied with being my lover?" Jon's lips closed over hers, once, lightly, before he told her, “I've wanted you so long, Caroline. If you are certain that you wish to take me to your bed, I would be a fool to decline that most generous of offers. However, I will not stop asking you to marry me. I want to awake to see you beside me each morning of my life." Caro smiled lightly. “Come Jon. We can go up the back way. If you can act as my maid, we might be able to keep the matter from the servants."

“You sound like you are enjoying the idea, Caro,” he remarked in amusement. “I've never thought about going to bed with a man just because I wanted to, before. It is an exciting thought, Jon. I find myself wondering what pleasures you will show me." “If you do not stop being so provocative, we'll be making love right here on your sofa,” he warned. She stood and took his hand. “That would be uncomfortable. I have a big bed upstairs. Come with me, Jon?" “Don't you know that I am unable to deny you anything, my love?"

Chapter Six August gave way to September. The auditor whom Dousia's solicitor had supplied had made her way through the books for the estate, coming away with the same impression that Dousia herself had. They both knew that there was something very wrong with the estate books. Dousia questioned whether she was allowing her personal dislike for Edward to color her perceptions. To make matters worse, Edward was a frequent visitor to Seahaven. The more time she spent in Edward's company, the less she liked him. She was most thankful for the presence of Aunt Elinor as a buffer between her and Edward. The way that he looked at her, when he believed no one was watching was positively indecent. Will, on the other hand, had taken quite a liking to Edward. That was a development that greatly puzzled her. Little Will was usually such a good judge of character. She had to admit to feeling uneasy about the amount of time that Will and Edward were spending together. Edward, after all, with the exception of Uncle Jon, was the closest male relative the boy had. Wasn't it to be expected that Will would want to spend some time in masculine company? Edward was certainly good with the boy, what little she had seen of their interactions. He took him out riding, with Edward on a mild mannered mare, and Will on his pony. Edward also took over Will's fencing instruction. While Edward wasn't as good or as skilled of a fencer as she was, the man's skills were sufficient to instruct a boy of nearly seven. Besides, Will seemed to enjoy a match with someone besides herself. Dousia did not wish to believe that her dislike of Edward was colored by her feeling that he was taking Will away from her. However, that was precisely how she felt about Edward's growing relationship with Will. Every time she turned around, Will was chattering on about how Edward said or did this or Edward said or did that. Will had been in her charge since the day he was born, the day that Martha died in giving birth to him. Intellectually, Dousia had known all along that the day would come when Will would no longer need her as strongly. It just seemed that he had grown up, seemingly, all at once. She had rather hoped that Justin would take a larger interest in Will. The boy needed a strong masculine influence in his life. But, seemingly, Justin had problems of his own to solve. Dousia hadn't seen much of Justin since the week in which the betrothal contract had been signed. Between his standing as best man in several weddings, (including she noted, the wedding only days ago of Maria Blansforth to Josiah Wentworth, the Earl of Wexley) and Justin spending time in London tending to God only knew what matters, Justin had spent maybe a total of ten days at Lytton Hall during the past month. Of those ten days, Dousia had seen him exactly four times, always in a group setting. She tried to pretend that it didn't matter to her that Justin seemed to be avoiding her company. Dousia had never been good at self-delusion, however. She was seated at her desk in the study at Seahaven when Raven, the butler, announced that her uncle had arrived and was desirous of seeing her. Dousia looked up from the current ledger in which she was posting the bills as she paid them.

“Uncle Jon!” she said as she rose from the desk. “How good it is to see you. What brings you to Seahaven?" “Must I have an excuse to see my favorite niece?" “Your only niece, you mean." “Now you know why you are my favorite,” he countered with a laugh. “I suspect that is the only way in which you could achieve the status of favorite.” The humorous tone in his voice removed the sting from his words. “Very humorous, Uncle. What can I do for you?" “I thought that perhaps you could tolerate my company for two or three days. I have some business to conduct in the area and thought that you would not begrudge me a bed and some meals." “Of course you may stay. You know that I have more than enough room for you. What sort of business are you conducting?" Jon's expression became guarded. “Please do not ask any further questions, niece. The less that you know about this, the better it will be for everyone concerned." “I believe that you are quite correct. I do not wish to know anything concerning your business affairs where that area is concerned,” she replied. “The only thing which I would ask of you Uncle is that you do not go and get yourself killed in the process of whatever you are trying to accomplish." Jon's lips twitched as he tried, and failed, to suppress a smile. “I shall try not to be so disobliging,” he replied. “You are so nicely settled here, it would be a shame to elevate Will to the status of Duke and to force you to move to Winton Abbey,” he added teasingly. “Pray, do not even think about it,” Dousia retorted in a very controlled voice. The clock chimed one. Happy for an excuse to change the subject, she asked quietly, “Have you had nuncheon, Uncle?" He raised an eyebrow at her. “Leaving it rather late, aren't you?" “Not really. We normally eat nuncheon about now, then I spend the afternoon with Will and his lessons. Would you join us at table? Mrs. Vinton is a good deal like Francois, in that I have not yet been able to convince her that we are not feeding an army." Will sat at the family dining room table, talking animatedly about his morning's adventures. It was unusual for a small boy to eat with the family, but each day at midday Dousia tried to spend time with Will. Nanny Harrow, according to Will, had taken him down to the pond fishing. Although neither of them had caught anything, (a happening for which Dousia was unceasingly thankful since it meant that she would not have to praise him as she ate the tiny fish which he invariably caught—when he was rarely able to catch anything) it was in Will's opinion a splendid day. After pronouncing that opinion, the boy looked at her with soulful eyes and asked, “Surely, you would not wish to ruin such a wondrous day by making me stay in the schoolroom?" “Oh,” Dousia replied with a smile, “I believe that we can just as well have your lessons out of doors." The boy's face fell. That wasn't what he had in mind, at all. “You may begin now by reciting the German alphabet...” Dousia added with an indulgent smile. William knew that look too well to try to circumvent it. "Ah, bay, tsay, day, ay, eff, gay, ... faou, vay, ecks, ew-psee-lon, tsett," he replied quietly.

"Das gut!" Jon praised. "Danka, mein herren,” Will replied. “Your numbers. From one to ten, if you please,” Dousia quizzed. "Eins, zwei, drei, vier, funf, sechs, sieben, acht, neun, zehn," the boy replied showing the numbers on his fingers as he counted. "Sehr gut!" Dousia praised. "Elf, zwolf, dreizehn, vierzehn, funfzehn, sechzen, siebzehn, achtzehn, neunzehn, zwanzig," Will continued with the numbers from eleven to twenty. "Ist das die Feder?" she asked as she touched the table. Is this a pen? "Nein," Will replied with a laugh, "das ist nicht die Feder, das ist der Tish." No, that is not a pen, that is the table. “That's silly, Dousia,” Will said with a small giggle. "Bin ich Amerikaner?" Uncle Jon asked quietly. "Nein. Ich bin Englander," Will replied seriously. Jon smiled broadly. "Sehr gut!" Will smiled at his sister. “Since Uncle Jon is here, and since I know my German so good, can I have the afternoon to spend with him?" "May I have the afternoon to spend with him,” Dousia corrected. “Now that's just not fair!” he protested mockingly. “I wanted to spend some time with him. Man to man." Dousia rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed deeply. One day, she would stop letting him bait her like that, but not just yet. Will did seem to get such enjoyment out of it. “If Uncle Jon wishes to keep you company this afternoon, I have no objection,” she informed the boy. “Uncle?” the boy asked. “I believe that I should enjoy that,” Uncle Jon replied with a smile. Not having Will's lessons to tend to, Dousia returned to the office, hoping to have time in which to pay her bills. But she had barely made out three cheques and recorded them in the ledger, before Raven announced that the Earl of Lytton was waiting in the blue salon. “Good afternoon, Justin,” Dousia said as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. “To what do I owe the privilege of this visit?" He turned and looked at her. “I want to talk with you, sweetheart." “Pray, have a seat Justin,” she replied as she walked over to a chair. “I understand that your uncle is here,” Justin said as he took a seat on the sofa. A puzzled expression passed over her face. “Just at the moment, I believe that he's out in the stables with Will." “Has he told you anything about why he has come to Seahaven?” Justin's voice sounded nervous. “Just that he had some business to conduct in the area. Justin, what does this have to do with you? Are you

involved in this?" His lips tightened into a thin line. “It would be better if you did not know anything about this distasteful matter." “Then why did you bring it up?” she countered. He looked at her, a sadness in his eyes. “I don't suppose that you would reconsider your position. We could go over to the church and allow Quintin to marry us today." Dousia smiled tightly at him, as her face lost its color. Something about the way he was looking at her told her that there was much more to this than he was telling her. “This business of yours, there is a chance that you might not come away from it alive?” she asked carefully. Justin's gray eyes burned into her. “Either that, or I may have to be away from England for a very long time,” he finally admitted in a tone leaving no doubt as to his honesty. She swallowed hard. “I have grown fond of you, Justin. But I wonder if marrying you like this would not be the wrong thing to do. Perhaps, you would be more careful knowing that you have obligations yet to fulfill." He nodded lightly after a long minute. “Perhaps you are correct. It wouldn't be fair to make you a widow twice over,” he replied. “Justin,” Dousia said as she rose from her chair and went to sit beside him on the sofa. “If this is so dangerous, then why must you be involved?" “It is something that I must do,” he replied. “Since your mother is in Bath, would you like to join us for dinner this evening?" Justin smiled at her. “You are so very kind,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. He touched her face lightly. If Aunt Elinor had not walked in at that moment, Dousia knew that Justin would have kissed her. She did not know whether to thank her aunt or not for the interruption. The dinner invitation was an impulse she came to regret. The tension at the table was measurable. Dousia didn't know what sort of happenings were set for the morning, but anything which reduced her uncle to solemn silences, and produced lines of strain on Justin's face, she could not allow herself to like. Try as she might to draw them into the conversation, neither gentleman was giving the discussion more than a half of a thought, as they both seemed terribly pre-occupied. Finally, she and her Aunt both gave up the struggle to involve the men in any level of conversation. Frankly, neither lady, in the face of the solemnity of the men, was particularly inspired to be brilliant conversationalists. Dousia could not recall the last time that she was so anxious for a meal to end. By the time the cheese board arrived at the table, both Dousia and Elinor were all too willing to leave the gentlemen to their cigars. “I'd like some time alone with Dousia,” Justin told Jon. The Duke nodded. “I understand that. Not too long, though. I doubt that I can keep Elinor distracted for much more than ten minutes. Besides, you should try to sleep tonight ... Have you told her?" “She jumped to a conclusion that we were to be involved in some dangerous business on the morrow. I did not correct her impression,” Justin replied. “I'll get Elinor and myself out of the way, but you should tell Dousia. I don't imagine that she would be very happy at all to find out the truth about this second hand,” Jon warned. Justin nodded and smiled tightly. “I know that, Jon. It is just that I would rather that she not know. She has just begun to look upon me with fondness. I would rather not risk her believing the scandal."

“Trust her. She does have a mind of her own." As he promised, Jon removed Elinor and himself from the room after embroiling Elinor in a debate, about the color of the eyes of one of their ancestresses, which could only be served by their repairing to the gallery and looking at the portrait of the woman. “And how did you arrange that?” Dousia asked with a small laugh as she stood only steps away from him. “I had to be alone with you. Are you going to waste time, or will you kiss me?" Dousia looked sad for only a brief moment. “Is this to be a goodbye kiss?" Justin swallowed hard. “There is that possibility,” he admitted. “Stay safe, Justin. Whatever it is that my uncle has embroiled you in, back away from it, before you or he become injured, or worse." Justin shook his head. “I cannot do as you ask, Dousia. I am sorry." “Then be extremely careful..." He crossed the distance between them and took her in his arms. Without waiting for him to make the first move, she leaned into him and met his lips, gently with hers. But the gentleness was quickly swept aside by the passion they both felt for one another. She found herself being driven to the point of desperation by a series of sensations: the purely masculine scent of him, the feel of his hard hands on her—almost burning her with the heat which transmitted itself to her skin all too easily through her silk dress and thin undergarments—the slightly brandied and tobaccoed taste of him, and the firmness of his body as it pressed against hers. Only her need to touch him, to be with him, to be a part of him, registered on her mind as she kissed him. Nearly mindless with the desire that they both felt, neither of them heard the door of the room open. Elinor and Jon's voices were a large dose of ice water on the fire that had flared between Dousia and Justin. Their words stopped dead as her aunt and uncle took in the sight of the younger pair so entwined. Dousia's face turned bright red as she stepped away from Justin under the amused stare of her uncle and the glee of her aunt. “We should have knocked,” Jon remarked. “Nonsense,” Dousia replied strongly as she regained her composure. She had to fight to keep her lips from twitching with an almost uncontrollable need to giggle. “I am certain that you have both seen people kissing, before." “I daresay that we have,” Elinor replied. Dousia reached behind her neck with one hand and unfastened the gold chain she often wore. Carefully, she removed the chain and the small gold cross. “This was my Grandmother Richardson's. She gave it to my mother on her wedding day, and I've had it since I can remember. In Mama's diaries, she called it her lucky charm. I want you to carry this tomorrow,” she said, her voice throbbing. She held out her hand and the little gold cross to him. “Take it, please,” she half-pleaded. “What if I should lose it?” he countered, touched beyond words at her offering, because it was a sign of her trust in him, a sign that she was coming to care. He only hoped that when the truth of tomorrow's misadventure came to light that she would still feel the same way about him. “You won't lose it. You will take very good care of it, and you will bring it back to me,” she stated with more confidence than she felt since Justin's nervousness had since rubbed off on her. He took it from her. Then he

took her hand. “Thank you,” he said in a choked voice, just before he bowed to kiss her hand. “Good night to you all." **** Dousia had even less sleep than usual that night. At four, she rose, washed, unbraided her hair, brushed it out, rebraided her hair, fastened the braid into a coil on the back of her head, dressed in her riding clothes, and went downstairs, by the light of that lamp which she held in one hand, to make herself some coffee. It was highly unlikely in her opinion that Mrs. Vinton was yet up and about. Carefully, she stirred the cooking fire, and brought it to cooking heat. Then she made herself a pot of coffee. When it had brewed, she poured the black, bitter liquid into a silver coffee pot and carried it and a cup into her study. As long as she couldn't sleep, and since it was still too dark to ride, she decided that she might as well get some work done. It was an understatement to say that she was surprised to see Uncle Jon seated in her office at the long oak table placed in front of the large east window. Her shock was compounded by seeing him systematically cleaning a matched pair of dueling pistols. “You are up early,” Jon commented, not at all surprised at that development. “Have trouble sleeping?" “I am obviously not the only one who is experiencing that malady,” she remarked pointedly. “That is probably part and parcel of the Crawford family curse. A sharp tongue, a need for very little sleep, and an exceptionally long life,” Jon mused before changing the subject. “I wouldn't have thought that very formidable kitchen dragon of yours would have been up this early. That coffee smells good." “I shouldn't let Mrs. Vinton hear you disparage her in that manner. In addition to being a superlative cook, she is excellent with Will. As far as I am concerned she is a treasure beyond price. However, I do not expect her to rise in the middle of the night to make my coffee. I am perfectly capable of doing that myself." “Smells good,” Jon reiterated. “Would you care for some, Uncle?" “If it would not be too much trouble, Niece." “Not at all,” she replied far too sweetly as she placed the pot and the lamp she held in her other hand down on her desk before she walked over to the corner cabinet and retrieved a stemmed goblet. She poured his coffee into the goblet and gave it to him. Jon's loud laughter reverberated through the room. She went to her desk and resumed the process of bill paying. The first pale rays of dawn filtered through the window as Jon finished with his cleaning. When he rose, Dousia asked him, “You will take care of yourself, won't you? Don't do anything foolish." Personally, Jon felt that the entire exercise was foolish. However, he wasn't about to say something like that to Dousia. She was worried enough as it was. Jon had to admit to himself that he had been initially concerned about the wisdom of coercing her into the betrothal with Justin, but seeing how worried she was about him, he knew that there was some degree of emotional involvement between them. Given the possible outcomes of this morning's business, he wasn't so terribly certain that it was a good thing that she had been brought to care about Justin. Jon did not wish to see her hurt, again. “Of course, we will be careful. No one, God willing, shall be injured,” Jon said. “I must go." Dousia had stayed in her office for only about five minutes after Uncle Jon had left the room. She needed a good hard ride. Yes, that would be enough to take her mind off of the situation with Justin. Or, she mentally

amended, that she hoped that it would be sufficient to do so. She rode a spirited sorrel mare named Daystar. Accompanied by a groom, by the name of Jenkins, who rode upon an equally spirited animal, she rode cross-country at a breakneck pace, taking the fences with ease. It was rare that she encountered anyone up and about on her early morning rides. The solitude was one thing that she particularly liked about riding at dawn. So, it was her second large surprise of the morning when, in the clearing of the woods which sat at the edge of the Seahaven property where it marched along the land belonging to the Earl of Lytton, she saw a carriage, several horses, and a group of men. From the distance, she could not be certain, but it looked as though they were on the Seahaven property. More than that, it seemed as though they were preparing to duel. Dousia urged Daystar forward, in order to investigate. Approaching, at high speed, she saw the cloud of black powder smoke come from the barrels and heard the explosions at the discharge of the pistols. When she came closer, she realized that among the combatants were Uncle Jon and Justin. So, she thought angrily, this was the dangerous business in which they were involved. Justin was sitting, leaning weakly, against a tree. Uncle Jon was kneeling beside him. Another man lay were he had fallen and was being tended to by the man who had obviously been his second. There should have been a surgeon present, but Dousia could see no sign that anyone was present aside from the combatants, their seconds, the coachman, and outrider. The sound of the approaching hoofs warned the men that she was approaching. Even at this distance, she could see that both men were wounded. Panicked, she urged Daystar on faster. She took the last fence skillfully, moving as one with the animal beneath her. Her vision was trained on Justin and her uncle, so she didn't see the look of admiration and puzzlement which came her way from the other man's second. She had dismounted quickly. Thrusting the reins into the hands of her groom, she crossed the distance between herself and Justin in long purposeful strides. “How badly are you injured?” she demanded, her fear and anger displayed in her voice. Justin cleared his throat. “It is simply a graze." “I will see for myself, thank you, my lord,” she replied matter-of-factly as she sank beside Justin to sit on her heels. She pushed his hair aside in order to get a good look at the wound. The ball had barely grazed his skin. It was more than a scratch, but far less than it could have been. At this moment, she did not know whether to kiss him or kill him. “It looks, my lord,” she replied, “as though you will have a new part to your hair. This should heal nicely if you can keep it from getting infected. Eva has an ointment that will help in that regard." She pulled several pins from her hair. Carefully, she used the pins to fasten Justin's hair away from his wound. “I'll send some of Eva's ointment over to you at Lytton Hall. Have you any other symptoms besides a devil of a headache? Is your vision blurred?" “I shall be fine,” Justin said. “We shall discuss that matter later, my lord,” Dousia said, her mouth set into a disapproving line. With that comment, she rose, turned, and went over to the other men. “Allow me to be of assistance,” she said quietly as she sank down beside the fallen man and assessed his state. “This is not a fit sight for a lady,” the dark man said. “Possibly not,” Dousia acquiesced quietly as she continued to take in his injuries. “Men's disagreements are

frequently unfit sights for any of God's children.” The wound was on the man's hand. She had seen a wound like that once; when a pistol had exploded in the hands of a friend. From the look of his mangled hand, she had the strong feeling that his fingers were broken, possibly even some of the bones in his hand. It would take a small miracle to save that hand from the sawbones. Miracles were something in which she no longer believed. She felt his throat for a pulse. His skin was cold and clammy. The pulse was weak and thready. The injury itself was not life threatening, however the state of shock that he had gone into might well be life threatening. “We'll brace the hand. Eva will be able to relieve his pain, at least until the surgeon arrives. He may well lose the hand,” she said. Dousia looked up at her uncle who had just now come over. Jon's face was pinched. “What do you think?" “Have Jenkins unsaddle the horses. I'll need the saddle blankets to keep this man warm,” Dousia said tightly. “Come on, gentlemen, you appear as if you have never seen a wounded man before,” Dousia chided. “Damn your hides. This is irresponsible, to duel. It's criminal not to have a surgeon in attendance. “If we are going to save his life, we have to move quickly. You,” she said as she looked into the almost black eyes of the second, “I will need at least five sturdy, straight sticks of about a foot in length and four of about six inches in length. Get the blankets, Uncle Jon. Justin, you sit down, before you fall down. I'm not at all certain that you haven't a mild concussion. One critically injured patient is quite enough to deal with at one time." When no one moved, Dousia said commandingly, “Don't just stand there! The longer you hesitate, the more likely it is he will die. And that, gentlemen, would be difficult to explain." Dousia took hold of the flounces at the bottom of each leg of her linen drawers and ruthlessly ripped them from the garment. Then she tore the fabric into strips. By the time she was done, Uncle Jon and the other man had returned. They wrapped the injured man in blankets. “I would set his fingers, but I am afraid that the pain would kill him right now. We need to get laudanum in him, or another opiate, to deaden the pain before those bones are set, ” Dousia said flatly as she began sorting through the sticks to find those suitable for bracing the hand. “So, let's splint it, and get him back to Seahaven, where he can be dosed and properly treated." Dousia arrived back at Seahaven before the coach containing both the injured man, and, at her insistence, both Justin and Jenkins. If the man died, she wasn't going to have Justin blamed. Uncle Jon and the injured man's second rode along side of the coach. Dousia had ridden bareback, cross country, at breakneck speed, and had reached Seahaven in time to give instructions to the staff and to send for the local surgeon, a man named Hill, before the coach arrived. Efficiently, the injured man was carried up to the room prepared for him. They were all standing in the entry hall. “Well, gentlemen, I would have a word with you in my office, s'il vous plait." Once they were all within her office and doors were closed, Dousia's composure cracked. “Pray, gentlemen, be seated,” she instructed them as she paced across the room. “Somehow, one expects irresponsible behaviour like this from young bucks. They at least have the excuse of hot blood. But, as you are well beyond the first flower of your youth..." Justin interjected, interrupting her, “Ah, my lady, you wound me!" Dousia exhaled loudly. “Not yet, my Lord, but you do so tempt me to put you out of my misery,” she replied. “This situation is beyond explanation. Pray, have some degree of respect for my intelligence, do not even try to concoct some Banbury tale. I sincerely hope that you have some notion of the position in which you all have placed me by holding your duel upon the grounds of Seahaven."

Not giving them time to respond, she continued, “I shall need the name of the man who is above stairs and the name and direction of his next of kin." She sighed, then continued, “Know this: I am very much displeased with the entire situation. Now, a suitable explanation will have to be found for the man's injury. I will not have scandal touching Seahaven, even remotely. While none of you may give a hang for your reputations, I do care about mine and that of my brother." Justin cleared his throat. “We were on the grounds belonging to me." “Shall I retrieve the surveyor's plat, my lord, from my safe in order to disprove your statement? I may not have been at Seahaven long, but I assure you that I know where the property lines are. You were at least five hundred yards inside the line. However, that is still neither here nor there since Jenkins will not say a word about what he witnessed and neither shall I." Dousia shook her head as she looked at the three men who were seated in various chairs in her office. “It would seem to me that a logical story would be that you,” she looked directly at the man who had served as second, “along with the injured man were traveling in the coach, were over set by a band of highwaymen. There was a struggle during which the gentleman was injured. “Sometime during the fray, Uncle Jon and the Earl who were out riding fences, came upon the scene. Seeing that the odds had changed considerably, the highwaymen retreated, but not before one of them got off a shot at the Earl, but thankfully the bullet did naught but graze his incredibly thick skull. The men were all masked, and thus none of you got a good look at any of them. They were riding nondescript horses. All of the men were of average height and build with no distinguishing marks or features. Thus you would not be able to recognize them again, under any circumstances." Dousia cleared her throat, then added, “This matter is distasteful enough without implicating the innocent in your folly, especially as the consequences would be dire." The men exchanged glances among themselves. “That would explain everything but your involvement, my lady,” the second to the injured man remarked. “AH ... That is easy. Everyone in the area has heard of my penchant for riding at dawn.” She chuckled, then continued, “The locals, I fear, do not exactly approve of my dawn ramblings.” Dousia shrugged, “I came upon you and offered the use of my brother's home, since it was the closest house to where the attack occurred. That part, at least, is close enough to the truth not to cause me problems in relaying it to the authorities, should any official queries be made. “Of course, the success of the tale will require that the coachman and outrider can be convinced to tell the same story. I am assuming that you can effect that." “I believe that achieving the goal of the driver and outrider corroborating our stories is well within my power,” the dark man said. “Money generally quiets tongues." “Good. Then I believe that we have said that which must need be said,” Dousia replied with a slight nod. “Not quite. Might I have the honor of knowing the name of the woman with the quick mind and skillful, healing hands?" Dousia looked over to her uncle for the introductions. “Niece, may I present his lordship, the Marquis of Trouvaine. Trouvaine, this is my niece, the Lady Theodousia Langley." “I am honored, my Lady,” he replied. Dousia's lips twitched into a half smile. “Then you are easily honored, my lord Trouvaine, for I fear that honor has had uncommonly little to do with the proceedings of this morning ... Well, gentlemen, shall I ring for coffee, or in spite of the hour, and allowing for the fact that you all nearly got yourselves killed, would you prefer something stronger?” Dousia responded. “Would you care for breakfast?"

Breakfast was a strained affair. Doctor Hill arrived sometime during the middle of the meal. As Dousia had very little appetite, it was almost a relief to see the surgeon come, since that gave her an excuse to leave the table. “Gentlemen, please continue eating. I feel that I must go check on the patient." “My lord Lytton, I should like to have a word with you. Shall we say, my office in a half hour?” Ostensibly, there was a question in the words, but the tone brooked no argument. When Dousia had left the room, Harry Finston, the Marquis of Trouvaine said to Jon, “That is a very impressive woman, your niece." “She does have her moments,” Jon replied. “Where is her husband?” Trouvaine asked, since he had noticed her wedding ring. “She's a widow,” Justin informed him. “Oh?” Trouvaine replied with a raise of an eyebrow. The topic of conversation became centered on the topic of Theodousia. Harry had nearly the entire story of her life out of Jon. Of course, it was only a sketchy account containing only the barest of facts. His Lordship, the Marquis, sat back and smiled. “Well, your Grace, how would you feel about my paying court to the lady." Justin smiled tightly. “Don't get any ideas about her, Harry. I intend to have her." “Do you? How interesting! There is always hope that you won't treat her the way that you did Maria,” Harry replied. “In spite of Josiah's accusations, I have never had anything to do with Maria,” Justin replied quietly, just barely keeping his temper under control. “Well, someone got to her before Josiah did,” Harry replied with a shrug which was anything but casual. “She said that it was you. Are you calling Maria a liar?” he asked in a strained voice. “Gentlemen,” Dousia's raspy voice came from the doorway. “If you should like to have your business being discussed by all the servants, you are proceeding along the correct path." She walked into the room and over to the sideboard to pour herself another cup of coffee. “You will be relieved to hear that the doctor believes Wexley will be keeping his hand. The bones have been set and the hand securely splinted. He seems to be coming out of the shock. He will be in pain for several weeks, but he shan't lose his hand, providing that infection does not set in." Harry, the Marquis, said in a heartfelt voice, “Thank God!" “Amen to that,” Justin replied in a relieved voice. “This entire situation has enough blame to circulate to all concerned,” Dousia stated evenly. “All we can do at this point is to rise up, wipe off the dust, and go forward." “Very wise, my Lady,” Harry, the Marquis, said. “I should still like a private word with you, my lord Lytton,” Dousia reminded him. “Certainly. Is your aunt up and about?” Justin answered. “Surely, you jest, my lord. Aunt Elinor, I believe, is allergic to morning,” Dousia replied with a small smile and a laugh. “I rarely see her at any hour before noon, sometimes not until one or two." Justin and Dousia were safely ensconced in her office with the distance of her desk between them. “Must we be so formal?” Justin teased.

“I think that it is for the best,” she replied. “May I have the return of my mother's cross, my lord?" Justin handed the necklace to her. “Why do you believe that formality would be for the best?" “I cannot have scandal touching my brother,” she replied. “I would not hurt Will for all of the gold in Mexico,” Justin replied. “You know, as well as I do, that the story of this duel will get out. Too many people know. Someone is going to let something slip. Then it will be all over about you and the Countess of Wexley,” she replied. “The truth of the allegation will not matter." Justin had to admit the truth of her speculation. “Anyone associated with you will be tarred with the same brush,” she added. “While I do not care about myself, I do not want Will to be tainted with scandal. He is going to have a difficult enough time adjusting to and being accepted by society." “Just say what you mean!" “I want you to reconsider your offer of matrimony and rescind it,” she told him, unable to meet his eyes. “We both know that I cannot break this engagement. That is entirely your option." “It is an option which I am not willing to pursue,” Justin told her. “Get used to the idea of marrying me, for you have no other option. Now, if that is all you had to say, and since you find my scandal tainted company profoundly distasteful, I shall not impose myself upon you any more than may be necessary, before we are wed. I shall promptly remove myself to Lytton Hall. “Good day, my lady!" After Justin closed the door to the study behind him, the tears flowed freely down Dousia's face. **** The remainder of the day was no better. Dousia was locked in her office the majority of the morning with her accounts. Eventually, she would turn the entire matter over to a steward, but before she did that, she would need to have a very good idea of just what it cost to run Seahaven and what the profits from the estate were. Her afternoon, as usual, was occupied with Will's lessons. Yet, Will was far too excited by the rumors which he had heard in the house this morning about an injured man and highwaymen for the boy to be able to give much attention to his studies. The Marquis of Trouvaine, she discovered when she had come down to dinner, was the son of a dear friend of Aunt Elinor's, so Aunt had obligingly invited him to stay as long as Wexley was forced to remain at Seahaven. All in all, it was not a day that was in any danger of being remembered fondly. Late that night, Dousia was, as usual, wide awake. She decided to go down to the library and get a novel. On her way, she noticed that there was a light showing under Uncle Jon's door. So, she stopped and knocked lightly. When she heard a muffled, “Yes?” she entered, closing the door behind her. There was Jon seated at a small table in the room that had been his bedchamber for more years than she had been alive. She crossed the room and placed her small lamp on the table as she took a seat opposite him. “Remember the late night conversations that you and Father and I had when you came to America?” Dousia asked.

“Those were good memories." “I will make you an offer, Uncle. We can try to put today behind us. I do not know that it is totally possible to do so. However, you said that you wanted us to be friends. I believe that I would like to have you as a friend, Uncle,” she said, her voice becoming more raspy than normal. Jon laughed. “Now, that you've seen a bit of how bad an enemy I can be?” he offered teasingly. “We are too much alike, Uncle." Jon laughed. “Ah ... Theodousia ... We may be. We just may be." “Frightening, isn't it?” she teased in return. “Dousia,” Jon said, “I believe that we need to discuss the matter of you and Justin." “We have nothing to discuss in that regard,” she said. “Please?" “What was it that you wanted to discuss, Uncle?" “I wish that you would not take me in disfavor, Niece." Dousia shrugged. “Is there anything to be accomplished by discussing the matter, again?” she asked hoarsely. “You truly do not wish to be married to Justin?” Jon asked. “This is not simply some natural reserve?" “Does it matter, Uncle? I have very little choice in the matter, now, do I?" Jon shook his head. “No. There is very little choice in the matter. Dousia, I know that you must feel that I am forcing you into a marriage you cannot desire. However, I would appreciate it if you could try to see things from my position." “Which is...?" “Justin is a good man. It would take a very special woman to be able to make him happy. Of all the young people whom I know, I cannot think of any two who are better suited to one another than you two are." “Now, tell me the real reason that you are anxiously promoting this marriage." “If I didn't believe that you two would make each other happy, I wouldn't have threatened you into accepting him." “You still haven't answered my question, Uncle." “Woman, there are times that I swear God gave you a masculine mind." “Then again, perhaps I am merely devious." “Well, perhaps. But then again, if you weren't a bit that way, I should doubt that you were a Crawford." “Would you?" “Never. You look too much like your grandmother for anyone to have any doubts of your lineage." “Would your pushing this marriage between Lytton and myself have anything to do with your dangling after the hand of the Dowager Countess of Lytton?"

“Impertinent chit!” he replied with a smile. “My relationship with the Lady Caroline is absolutely none of your business." “Probably not, except when it impinges on my life." Jon's face became serious. “I would like for you to take time to talk with a friend of mine from the Foreign Office." “Why?" “You are in a unique position to give us some unique observations on the state of affairs in America." “I have made the decision to give my allegiance to the Crown, Uncle. Is this some sort of test to verify the strength of that allegiance?" “You have to admit that you are in possession of information which His Majesty's government would find useful,” Jon replied in a non answer. “Possibly. But, I will not violate any confidence,” she warned. “No one would ask you to do so." “Why don't I believe you, Uncle?" “Will you speak with my friend?" Dousia drew a deep breath. “I will speak with your friend." “Good." “Then, if this is all that you had to say, I believe that I shall retire to my room." “Are you tired?" “Not overly." “Would you care for a game of chess?” Jon offered. Dousia laughed. “Not tonight, Uncle. Perhaps tomorrow night, Now, I have interrupted your work quite long enough. You ought to return to translating those papers. Greek can be monstrously difficult. Especially when it appears to be in code." Jon looked at his niece through narrowed eyes. “And what would you know about it?" “Me?” she replied in a mocking voice. “Now, what would I know about codes? Although why anyone should take the time to encode a message, then transliterate it into Greek is beyond me." Jon looked at her, his face full of shock. “And how would you know that?" “I can read Greek, you know. I recognize the letters, but they don't form Greek words. Neither do they form English words. That means there is a code at work." “Sometimes, child, you are entirely too observant." “Better observant than completely stupid,” Dousia countered. “Do yourself a favor, Niece. Forget that you ever saw this,” Jon's voice was harsh. “See what? I have seen nothing, Uncle."

“And people think that I am manipulative." “And they are quite correct." “Go to bed, child." “No, Uncle, I think not. However, I'll leave you to your dispatches,” she responded with a mischievous smile as she rose from the chair, and picked up the lamp. “Good night, Uncle." “Good night, Dousia. Sleep well." “I never do. Why should tonight be any different?"

Chapter Seven It was to be a month before the Earl of Wexley, Josiah Wentworth, would be certified by the doctors to be fit to travel. For various reasons, that would be a time which Dousia would not have wanted to relive, even if she had been granted a temporary deathbed reprieve from the grim reaper in order to have the days to live over. In the space of a single week, the Marquis of Trouvaine, Harry, had done everything in his power to make certain that Dousia knew of his interest in her. At Dousia's request, Uncle Jon had stayed on, instead of returning to Winton Abbey, in order to act as a buffer between her and Trouvaine and to take the wind out of the sails of any gossip which might have otherwise arisen from the event of an eligible parti staying in the same house with an unmarried woman, regardless of chaperonage. Dousia was most anxious not to have to spend much time with Trouvaine. The man made her completely uncomfortable with his exceptionally bad poetry dedicated to her, with his intense, longing looks, with his polished words and flowery phrases. Frankly, she found herself longing for the simple honesty found in Justin's company. However, Justin, remaining true to his parting words to her, had been, for the most part, avoiding her company. They saw each other one morning on a fox hunt. Then they saw one another at church on Sunday morning. But, in neither of those circumstances did he show any desire to speak with her privately. Dousia wished that he would allow her to speak to him. Maybe then, they could straighten out matters between them. But, he was keeping a frustratingly proper distance from her. If this was not enough, then there was the matter of the very young Countess of Wexley, who, upon receiving the note saying that her husband had been injured in an encounter with a highwayman, had come running to Seahaven. Naturally, the Countess was given the room adjoining the one in which Wexley, himself, had been placed. Dousia had to admit that a more proper china doll beauty than Maria Blansforth Wentworth she had never seen. But, under that pattern card beauty, buried so far beneath it that Dousia wondered if she had imagined seeing it, there was a spark of intelligence. Perhaps in a few years, when the younger woman could no longer survive solely on her good looks, Dousia hoped that Maria would allow that spark to develop. But, Dousia had far enough to cope with, without taking on the reformation of young Maria. Josiah, the Earl of Wexley, was decidedly, coolly, formal to his young wife, in public. The strain of their argument, however, was most clearly evident to all. The sound of raised voices at night coming from within his bedchamber had been noticed, and tactfully went unremarked upon, by all concerned. Since Uncle Jon was remaining at Seahaven, Edward made an appearance with papers concerning Winton Abbey; papers he claimed needed Uncle Jon's signature immediately. But instead of taking the papers back to the abbey, Edward sent them back via a footman and remained at Seahaven. By this time, Dousia was beginning to feel as though she was running a boardinghouse; a rooming house in which the tenants had, if not a definite aversion, at least a strong distaste for one another's company. Oh, everyone was civil—coldly civil, that is. The level of tension in the house did absolutely awful things to her

outlook. Papa had taught her to be charitable and hospitable, but the constant company of the group consisting of an ill-natured invalid and his simpering wife, a relentless ladies’ man, her own aunt and uncle, and Edward (whom she was growing rather much to hate instead of to merely distrust) was greatly diminishing her ability to feel hospitable. The only seemingly good thing was that William was greatly enjoying having Edward around. Dousia remained uneasy about having Edward and Will spend all that much time alone in one another's company. Unfortunately, that uneasiness proved to be more than founded during the day when Justin made his first appearance at Seahaven since the day of the duel. Dousia was seated in her office, doing her accounts for the estate, as usual. Raven, graven faced, had come into the room without knocking. “My lady, the Earl of Lytton..." “Never mind, Raven, I'll announce myself." Dousia looked up from her books to see Justin stride into the office and to close the door, rather harder than necessary. “Good morning, my lord,” Dousia responded. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" “Woman! I thought that after everything you would have more sense than make an error of this magnitude! But, I suppose that I was mistaken, you are no more sensible than any other woman." “What are you talking about?" He cleared his throat. “If I hadn't been there, I shudder to think what would have happened ... How could you have been so irresponsible?" “Sit down, Justin!" “I ought to turn you over my knee and make certain that you won't be able to sit for weeks! How could you allow something so terribly insane? You are far too fine of a horsewoman not to know that the boy isn't capable of handling an animal like that! Or do you not care?” Justin snapped angrily as he walked around her desk to come to stand beside her chair. “What animal? What in the name of all that is holy are you talking about?” Dousia demanded in puzzlement as she stood so that he would not have the added advantage of glaring down at her from such an extreme difference in height. Justin smiled slightly, but the expression was more of a smirk than anything else. “William..." Dousia's face lost its color. “William? What about William?" “He was riding your mare, Daystar,” Justin stated categorically. Her face became chalk-like, then she flushed. “Excuse me. I think that it is time for me to have a small talk with a certain young man. Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I do not believe that my brother will be in any condition to be disobeying me again for a very long time. In fact, I doubt that he will want to sit in a chair, let alone on a horse, after I'm through with him." Justin placed his hand on her arm to stop her. “Be gentle with the boy. I believe that I've already put the fear of God into him." She looked at him and blinked back tears. “I don't know what I would do if something happened to that boy. I love him so much." Justin took her into his arms, intending to comfort her. Yet, the closeness sparked within both of them the desire that, though often ignored, was never absent. She buried her face on his shoulder. “Oh, Justin..."

“Theodousia,” Justin said hoarsely as he pushed her away from him slightly. Very gently, he lifted her head and lowered his lips to hers. He kissed her with a gentle intensity that left her helpless to do anything except cling to him. Then the kiss deepened as his tongue made its way past the white non-barrier of her teeth, in order to taste the honey of the dark secretness of her mouth. She found herself returning his kiss with an intensity that fanned the— sometimes banked but never totally extinguished—flames of desire between them. The kiss went on and on, seemingly to last both forever and an exceptionally short time. A great swell of love swept over her, reducing everything else to insignificance. The only thing that mattered to her was that she was with the man whom she loved more than she loved her own life. Neither of them heard the door open. “Get your hands off of my sister!” William roared in his childish voice. Dousia and Justin broke apart from one another, as if they had been scalded. There standing in the doorway was not only William, but Uncle Jon and Edward as well. Dousia fought back the blush. “Come in and close the door. Sit down.” The ice in her voice was evident. “Dousia, dear,” Uncle Jon said expansively as the three newcomers took seats. Justin walked over to the large bay window and looked out, his back to the room. Dousia remained standing. “Edward and Will have filled me in on the situation,” Jon offered. “Well,” she drawled, “that is more than I can say. Apparently, however, from what his lordship has told me, Will was mounted on Daystar. Not only that, but apparently there was some difficulty in Will keeping control of the animal. That difficulty could have proven injurious or perhaps even fatal, had his lordship not intervened.” Dousia's eyes narrowed dramatically as she glared at Edward. “What I haven't quite figured out is how any rational person would have been so utterly devoid of common sense as to place a small boy upon such a spirited beast!" Edward didn't as much as flinch under her glare. “I have been giving the boy riding lessons. He is much better of a horseman than you credit him." A count of four expired before she spoke, demanding, “On whose authority have you taken the responsibility of my brother's tutelage?" “On my own authority. The boy expressed an interest in learning to ride. You did not seem to have either the time or the inclination to instruct him. So, I've been teaching him to control a horse,” Edward said. “Well, you seem to have done an absolutely marvelous job of it,” Dousia replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. She then turned her attention on William. “Will, you know that I have forbidden you to ride any animal larger than your pony. The stable hands have their orders that the pony is to be the only animal saddled for you." “But Dousia, Edward said that it was acceptable,” Will protested. “Edward is not responsible for you. I am!” Dousia replied. “But when you are married to him...” Will countered, then blushed, and looked guiltily at Edward. “Will, I have absolutely no intention of marrying Edward,” Dousia said. “Anyone who told you otherwise is the worst kind of liar." Will shot her a puzzled look before he turned to look at Edward. “But, you said that we would all live together. That you would be my big brother..."

Edward smiled at the boy. “Will, there is nothing which I would like better than to be your big brother..." “This conversation,” Dousia announced, “has gone quite far enough. Will, you shall go immediately to your rooms. You shall remain there until such time as I come to you, engaged in contemplation of ... let's see ... St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, the thirteenth chapter. That should do nicely. Is this understood?" “Yes, ma'am,” the boy replied dejectedly. “Romans, the thirteenth chapter." “You are excused,” Dousia said. “I shall be up to see you within the hour. To hear you recite the chapter from memory. Then, it is time past that we had a very long talk." William made his bows and left, closing the door firmly behind him. “Now,” Jon demanded, “what is this nonsense about?" “That is precisely what I should like to know. Not only has he endangered Will, he has obviously been filling Will's head with ideas that somehow I would ... argghh ... this is beyond enough,” Dousia replied. “Is it so great a crime for me to be in love with you?” Edward asked soulfully. Justin turned around to look at Dousia. The incredulous and faintly disdainful expression on her face told Justin all that he needed to know about her sentiments towards Edward. There was no need for him to be jealous, but for a brief moment, that had been the overwhelming emotion surging through him. “Cousin Edward,” Dousia said in a far too controlled voice which anyone who had known her would have been aware was a definite sign of anger, “I cannot believe that you would be so irresponsible as to place upon a spirited mount a child whom you had to know was incapable of managing a beast like Daystar. William could have been killed. Did you not think of that?" “The boy is fine. You've seen that for yourself,” Edward dismissed. “No thanks to you. I think that it would be better if you would remove yourself from Seahaven as quickly as possible. You are no longer welcome here. I forbid any further contact between you and my brother,” Dousia told him. “That is unfair,” Edward protested. “Unfair?” Dousia echoed. “On the contrary, it is extremely fair. Much more fair, in fact than my having you clapped in irons on charges of attempted murder." Dousia felt Jon's eyes burning into her, but she refused to look at her uncle. “Slandering me in front of witnesses, are you?” Edward countered easily in a condescending voice. “I realize that you are overwrought and only an emotional woman, and I am attempting to make allowances for your behaviour, but I must insist on an apology for those accusations." “Unfounded?” Dousia once again echoed. Her voice took on a profoundly logical tone. “I can only believe, therefore, that you have intentionally put William on Daystar in hopes that he would be killed so that you could inherit the title." Dead silence met her accusations. “You are mad!” Edward finally replied in a voice which, she supposed, was intended to convey shock. Yet, the tone of the voice contained more desperate denial than anything else. “I think not,” Dousia said. “Again, I want you out of Seahaven as soon as possible. I do not trust you to be around my brother. I forbid you further access to him." Edward stiffly rose from his chair. Dousia rang the bell for the butler. “Raven, please have Mr. Clancey's horse saddled and brought round. He shall be leaving us, post haste. Have a footman accompany Mr. Clancey to

his room and help him pack and then to escort him directly to his horse. Mr. Clancey is no longer welcome at Seahaven." If Raven found her request strange, he was far too well trained to allow that to show on his face. Waiting only until the door was closed, Jon charged, “What has gotten into you, Theodousia? You were rude, beyond words, to Edward." “I will not allow any harm to come to William,” she said by way of explanation. “It is not like you to condemn anyone so out of hand,” Jon stated. “Uncle, if I could give you hard evidence to support my actions, I would have already have had him arrested,” Dousia replied. “All I am asking is that you respect my wishes in this matter. You will notice that Edward's reactions were not those of an innocent man falsely accused." Jon looked at her thoughtfully. “No,” he finally admitted in a grudging tone, “they weren't.” Jon stood, suddenly looking much more than his sixty-three years. “I am weary. I think that I shall retire to my room for a short while." Dousia's expression became concerned. “Shall I have you summoned for nuncheon? Or would you rather take a tray in your room?" “Summon me,” he said softly as he turned to leave the room. Justin walked over to her. “Dousia...” he started to say before he was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” Dousia answered the summons. Lady Maria, the Countess of Wexley, entered. “My lady?” she asked carefully. “I thought that you...” Her words trailed off as she saw Justin. Maria's cheeks flamed. “It isn't important. Excuse me." “I was just leaving, my lady. Dousia, we will continue this conversation later. Servant, ladies,” Justin said before departing. “At your pleasure, Justin,” Dousia replied to his departing form. “Lady Maria, I must go check on my brother. Is this important?" “No,” Maria replied. “I was unaware that you were on such intimate terms with the Earl of Lytton." Dousia smiled slightly. “Wexley got the idea that Lytton and I had been ... well ... But, it wasn't true. I told him that it wasn't true,” Maria said. “There are times, Lady Maria, that I believe men are far more trouble than they are worth,” Dousia replied. “Yes,” Maria agreed. “There are times I believe that they may be." It was a relief to Dousia to be finally free of the duelist crowd. Dousia thought that Justin would be calling on her to finish whatever conversation he had in mind when Maria had interrupted them so untimely. Yet, he did not call by. Finally, it came to her attention that he had been summoned to London on a matter for the admiralty, according to local gossip. Dousia was glad that Justin's knowledge and skills were being put to good use. If there had ever been a born seaman, Justin was it. Adjusting back to being a landman after so many years at sea was a circumstance she felt must have been a severe strain upon his spirit. But, Dousia did not have much time to dwell upon Justin's absence as she had another, more pressing,

matter with which to deal. That matter stood about four and a half feet tall and was red-haired with green eyes and freckles. William had been rude and ill-tempered to the point of being surly since the day of his accident. Of course, no one likes being punished. However, the boy was taking very hard indeed the revocation of his pony riding privileges for a period of one month. If it had been possible to bury William and to dig him up when he had passed this difficult period, Dousia might have considered it. Frankly, the idea of sending William to Eton was becoming progressively more attractive with each passing day of dealing with the boy's unwaveringly foul mood. “You don't love me,” Will charged one day during their lessons. Dousia had looked at him with pain in her eyes. “That is quite enough, William." “If you loved me, you would let Edward come to see me. He is fun to be around." “That sort of fun nearly got you killed, Will!" Will uttered a long string of curses in German, in which he questioned her legitimacy and condemned her to flames, among several other choice expressions of rage. “We do not take the Lord's name in vain, William, not even in German,” she replied, fighting back her own temper. “I never taught you to speak like that. But, perhaps it is time for me to teach you not to speak in that manner. Perhaps washing out your mouth with soap will teach you a lesson which you will not easily forget." After the punishment was administered, Dousia left William in bed with orders to reflect on the nature of his faults. “I hate you, Dousia Langley!” William cried out, tearfully. “Right now, sweetheart,” she replied, as she stood at the door of his room, “I am not terribly fond of your actions, but I still love you." Even after this, Will remained surly. Dousia was at wits’ end in an attempt to think of something, anything, to snap him out of this thoroughly foul mood. But, no matter what, she knew that she could not give in to him by removing the restrictions she had placed on his activity. To do so would be to permanently impair her ability to discipline him. Given time, she knew that Will would come around, that was, if she didn't throttle him first. Truthfully, she would not have made book on the chance that she would be able to continue to restrain herself from expressing the depth of her displeasure in the time honored fashion of administering a cane to his recalcitrant backside. Not that she was a great proponent of corporal punishment, for she wasn't. However, there were times in which one had to get the child's attention. This was rapidly approaching that time. William, in lieu of his accustomed pony rides, had developed the habit of taking long, solitary, walks around the grounds at Seahaven and the immediate surrounding area. The tenants and the employees kept a loose eye on him. Thankfully, he did not show them his surly mood. Instead, he was a perfectly charming little man to them all. Dousia's only wish was that Will would display some of that former charm to her. When Will did not return from his walk one bright morning at his accustomed hour, Dousia began to worry about him. She talked with Nanny to see what Will's plans actually had been for the morning. Will had told Nanny that he had planned to take a walk and to look for interesting additions to his rock collection. Nanny had suggested that she accompany him, but that offer was refused. Will preferred to be alone. Dousia was standing on the front steps of Seahaven organizing a search party of the footmen and some of the stable hands when Justin rode up to the house on Demon. “You have a problem?” Justin asked without as much as a polite greeting as he swung himself down from Demon's back. “Will hasn't come home from his walk,” Dousia said, her voice cracking with emotion. “He is probably playing somewhere and has lost track of the time,” Justin told her as he came to stand beside her.

“I wish that I could be sure of that. I have this feeling that there is something terribly amiss,” Dousia replied. “When I find that young jackanapes, I shall read him a fine scold for having worried you so,” Justin declared. “ Set your mind at ease, Dousia. I'll find him and bring him home to you,” he told her. “Trust me." Dousia nodded. “I do, Justin." “Keep that in mind. We shall discuss the subject in length at some later time,” Justin said with a smile. Dousia, unable to concentrate, sat in the Blue Salon, knitting a woolen winter muffler for William. The cloth would match the color of a pair of gloves she had already completed for him. In a plain knit, it was simple enough for her to do without paying attention to it. All she had to do was to knit one row, turn the work, and knit the next. She could have done it, almost, in her sleep. Eva, her own chores completed, sat across the room from Dousia working on the embroidery of a cover for a throw pillow. Aunt Elinor, never particularly clever with any sort of needlework, was reading one of the latest novels from the Minerva Press. None of them opened the conversation to the subject about which they were all worried. So, the room was silent except for the sound of the turning of pages, and of the soft clinking of knitting needles. When Raven's knock came at the door, all three women in the room were startled by the sound. “My lady,” Raven said gravely. “The Earl of Lytton has returned with the young marquis.” Raven had always impressed her with his ability to maintain a calm facade. That there was worry and fear both on his face and in his voice was enough to thoroughly terrify her. Raven continued, “His lordship is taking the boy to the nursery. A doctor has been sent for. But..." Dousia looked over to Eva who nodded calmly and urged, “You go on up. I'll get my medicine basket and join you." Justin had no more settled the boy in on the bed in his room than Dousia came bursting in. “What is it? What is wrong?” she demanded. Justin turned to face her. His expression was so pain-filled that she wanted to comfort him. “He's eaten these...” Justin told her in a tight voice as he held out his handkerchief containing a collection of berries. “Nightshade,” Dousia whispered in shock. She went over to the bed and sank to her knees. “Dear God,” she begged as she looked at the unconscious boy with tears in her eyes, “don't take Will from me, please." Eva's voice came from behind her. “That boy isn't going anywhere. Not if I can help it,” the middle aged woman said. She looked at the berries in Justin's hands. “Belladonna. God help us,” she said under her breath. “Dousia,” Eva said firmly, “leave the room, now. You are only going to be in the way. Take the Earl with you." “You'll need help,” Dousia countered. “Not yours. Nanny can help me,” Eva said commandingly as she fished through her basket for the right concoctions. “This is not going to be pretty. I have to get the poison out of him. Now move, child, and let me try to save his life." Obediently, Dousia rose from Will's side. “Take care of him, Eva." “I'll try, honey. I'll try." Aunt Elinor had made it up to the nursery about the time that Justin and Dousia were asked to leave. Seeing the stricken expression on Dousia's face, Elinor did not ask any questions. “I've sent for Jonathan,” Elinor said.

“That's good,” Dousia said as she nodded in agreement. “I want to stay near Will." Elinor looked from Dousia to Justin and back again, as if she were trying to make a decision. “Come, Dousia, Justin. We will go sit in my sitting room." Dousia couldn't prevent herself from pacing. “I should have made certain that he knew which of the local flora was poisonous. He wouldn't be in this situation if I had just done that simple thing.” The pain in her voice was obvious to both Elinor and Justin. He rose from his seat on the sofa and walked over to her. “Dousia, he is a boy. Even if you had lectured him at length about the local foliage, chances are that he would not have listened to you,” Justin replied. “Oh, Justin!” she moaned as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Cry, if you wish,” he said as his arms encircled her. His hand moved up to gently stroke her hair. A tender expression came over his face. Elinor sat looking at them. Yes, the older woman thought with satisfaction, he loves her. Now, if I can only get Dousia to admit how she feels for him. Doctor Hill was shown into the sitting room by a stern-faced Raven. “My ladies, my lord,” the young surgeon said tightly, “there is no good way to say this..." Dousia stiffened. Thurston Hill continued, “The boy's life is hanging from a thread. He must be leached if he is to survive. But, the nigra woman will not allow me anywhere near him with the leaches." “That's right,” Eva said from the doorway. “He's weak enough. Taking blood from him will only make him weaker." “He will die if I don't get the poison out of his system,” Doctor Hill said flatly. “Most of the poison is already gone. There is nothing left in his stomach, not after the kind of emetics which I've forced down him,” Eva stated strongly. “He's experiencing the effects of the poison that made its way into his blood. But, he's out of immediate danger." Dousia looked between the two healers with their differing philosophies. The choice for her brother's life lay in her hands. The wrong decision could very well be fatal. If she chose Eva's word over the physician's and Will died, the repercussions would be beyond tolerating. Yet, Eva had been right so many times when the doctors had been wrong. Without her former nurse's tender care, Dousia knew that she would never have recovered from her own injuries. “Thank you for coming, Doctor Hill,” Dousia said finally in a very stiff voice. “Please direct your bill to me. I will see that you are promptly paid for your consultation. However, your services are no longer required." Thurston Hill flushed angrily. “The boy's death will be on your head. I'll see to it that you are charged with contributing to his death." “I would suggest that you do not threaten me,” Dousia said, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “I can be a profoundly bad enemy. Goodbye, Doctor." After the doctor left, Dousia said to Eva, “Now what can I do to help?" “Now, it is just a waiting game. He'll sleep for maybe the next twelve or fourteen hours during which his body will throw off the remaining poison." Dousia sighed. “I hope that you are correct, Eva dear." Eva smiled tightly. “I hope so, too,” she replied under her breath.

Uncle Jon had left Winton Abbey almost as soon as he had read the note Elinor had sent to him. Riding hard, and taking the cross country route, he was able to arrive at Seahaven much sooner than expected. Along with Dousia, Elinor, and Justin, he kept watch in William's room. Finally, to all of their relief, Will awoke. “Dousia!" “Yes, sweetheart, I'm here,” she said quietly as she stroked his brow. “I'm thirsty,” he complained hoarsely. Eva handed Dousia a glass containing plain water. The boy was able to take a few sips. “Thank you,” he said quietly as he sank back wearily onto the pillows. “William,” Dousia asked, “those berries that you ate. Why did you eat them?" Will looked at her as though he did not understand the question. “Edward told me that they were good to eat. But, they weren't. Why did he lie to me, Dousia?” Will replied innocently with a yawn. “Sweetheart, this is important. Did you say that Edward told you that those particular berries were good to eat? Are you certain about that?” Dousia asked in a far too casual tone. Will's sleepy eyes came barely open. “Yes,” was all he answered before he was once more asleep. Dousia rushed from the room, leaving the others to absorb the impact of William's accusations. She had entered her suite of rooms, leaving the doors open behind her, and was taking her pistols out of the box when she heard the doors close. “And what would that accomplish?” Justin asked her. “Satisfaction,” she replied without bothering to turn around. “Killing Edward would only land you deeply in trouble,” Justin replied. “Am I supposed to sit back and ignore the fact that my brother almost died, not once, but twice, because of his actions?" Uncle Jon replied, “No, Theodousia. What you are going to do is to leave this matter to me. The last thing that this family needs is more scandal attached to its name. I believe that a solution can be found which will not lead to the matter becoming a public scandal. None of us want that." “He must be brought to justice,” Dousia replied as she turned to face the trio of Uncle Jon, Aunt Elinor, and Justin. “His actions won't be ignored, believe me,” Uncle Jon informed her. “I strongly suspect that Edward will have the sudden overwhelming desire to emigrate to Australia. In fact, I believe that I shall put him on the boat myself." Justin smiled. “I have to return to town within the next few days on a matter of business. Would you care for some company on the way to London, your grace?" Jon returned the smile. “That would be most agreeable." “I just want Edward out of the way so that William won't be able to be hurt by him." “Australia should be far enough away to prevent any further harm to the boy." “I doubt that the moon would be far enough away."

Chapter Eight

Days later, Dousia received a letter, franked by Justin from London. She opened and read it. My dearest Theodousia, Your uncle and I saw Edward Clancey off on his voyage to Australia on Tuesday. God willing, this will be the last that any of us will be troubled with the man. It will be some time before I can return to Lytton Hall. In fact, I shall be out of the country for several months on a matter of some importance. Know that if this had not been a matter of profound significance I would have never agreed to take on the assignment. If you need to reach me, your uncle will be able to forward letters to me. Please do not worry about me. I thought that perhaps we both could use some time in which to consider the feelings we have for one another. By the time this missive reaches you, I shall have already left the country. My only regret is that I did not have time to tell you this in person. I shall miss you dreadfully, my darling. I feel like three kinds of a fool for having to tell you this in a letter. However, I do not believe that I could stand the pain of seeing pity or indulgence on your face if I told you this in person and you did not return the sentiment. It is a matter so terribly simple and at the same time so incredibly complicated. I love you. That is correct, my darling Dousia, go back and reread those three short words for they tell you what I feel for you. Dousia looked up from the writing as it began to blur from the tears in her eyes. She blinked back the tears and smiled tremulously. Then she returned her eyes to the paper. Of course, my leaving the country so precipitously is going to fuel the already active flames of gossip. Unfortunately, you were correct in your assessment that the story of the duel would leak out. It very much has. The scandal is very public to the point of my being caricatured along with Wexley in the papers. Maria's reputation is in such a tattered state that I severely doubt she will ever be able to attend a function without some spiteful old tabby whispering about her. There are rumors of Wexley's seeking a bill of divorcement. The only good point of the matter is that your name has been kept out of this sordid affair. Your uncle and I are in full agreement: neither of us is going to hold you to your promise to marry me, in light of the current scandal attached to my name, however unjust it may be. We both know how you feel about scandal. You will be out of mourning by the time I return to England in March. Both Jon and I feel that you would not be happy in a forced marriage. So, the matter is totally in your hands, now, sweetheart. No matter what your decision, it would be far better if you went to London for the Season. If you want to marry me, the fact that you will be well known to the ton will make circumstances that much simpler. I have no doubt that you will take London by storm. With that amount of triumph to your credit, no one could doubt that I had fallen in love with you. Of course, if you choose not to become my countess, I am certain that you will have several fine offers of matrimony from which to choose. All I desire is that you make the decision that will give you the greatest amount of happiness, my darling. While I hope that you will decide in my favor, this is a decision only you can make. I remain, as always, yours faithfully, Justin Dousia carefully folded the papers and took them from her study where she had been reading the mail up to her room. She placed the letter in a large oilcloth bag in which she kept her most prized possessions such as her mother's last diary, a manuscript of her father's sermons, a packet of letters from Thomas, and now this letter from Justin. Then she went to the nursery to check on William. In the short time since his battle with death, Will had been confined to his rooms to allow him to recuperate. But, she had planned to take him out of doors for a short time today. “Dousia!” the boy said excitedly as he came toward her.

She smiled down at her brother. Dear Lord, it was good to have Will happy and healthy. One month faded into the next as winter arrived. One day merged with another as she kept atop the business of keeping Seahaven profitable for William. Day by day, she was coming to feel that this area was home. Life went on without much excitement. Dousia realized that she was lonely. Although how she could be lonely with so many people around her was beyond her powers of comprehension. Or, at least, that was what she tried to tell herself. But, she knew that the reason for her loneliness was because Justin was not here with her. Christmas day passed with only the barest of merrymaking at Seahaven. That lack was made up for by the grandest of balls on Twelfth Night. The ballroom at Seahaven was packed to an extreme point with the happy, smiling, faces of the area residents and other honored guests. The musicians were both skilled and seemingly indefatigable. Mrs. Vinton had worked her fingers to the bone in supervising the preparing of the food. Dousia, after having been in black gloves for so long, felt uneasy being dressed once more in the bold colors which she had always loved. However, she had to admit that that looked more than merely presentable in the gown of emerald green velvet, a color of which nearly matched her eyes. The guest list for the ball read like a who's who of society consisting of: Lady Jersey, one of the patronesses of Almack's, who happened to be a dear friend of Aunt Elinor's; the Duke of Clarence, the brother of the Regent and a friend of Uncle Jon's; and a scattered assortment of various other members of the aristocracy. Still, it was a gathering of which she did not know many people. Normally, meeting new people was something Dousia enjoyed. However, she found this group somewhat daunting. She was never more happy to see anyone than she was to see Maggie and Tony Blythe. It had been months since she had seen them. But, they had graciously accepted her invitation to the ball that marked the end of her mourning. Once Dousia had greeted her guests, although many of them were actually Uncle Jon's or Aunt Elinor's friends, she was free to join the party. Tony Blythe was most obliging to ask her to dance as the strains of a waltz rose from the orchestra. “I expected to see Justin here,” Tony said. “Is he back in the country? My information was that he would be away for at least two more months,” Dousia replied as she followed Tony's steps. “Where is he?” Tony asked. “I am certain that I do not know." Tony looked at her. “This sounds suspiciously like something he is doing for Jon." Dousia smiled. “Possibly. I cannot swear to that, however,” she answered. “All I know is that I am worried about him." “I see...” he murmured, then changed the subject. “I knew that you were a beautiful woman, but you have astonished me by your transformation out of mourning." Dousia laughed. The amused, throaty, sound brought attention their way from the other dancers. “Ah ... Tony, save your flattery for women who are susceptible to it. Your lady wife, for example, might be appreciative of a large dose of your not inconsiderable charms." Tony stiffened for a moment, then laughed. “Minx! You will definitely keep London on its toes." Lady Caroline sat looking at the dancers. Dousia's animated face drew her attention again and again. She had to admit that Jon's niece was an exceptionally lovely woman, at least on the outside. Still, she could not

bring herself to like the woman who had been revealed in the reports Ivo Bates had sent to her from America. For a woman to smile and laugh so openly at the conversation of such a redoubtable rake, albeit an allegedly reformed one, as Sir Antony Blythe, was beyond enough. Caro looked over at Lady Margaret and wondered how Maggie Blythe could sit there so calmly and smile at the spectacle of Sir Antony dancing and obviously flirting with Dousia. But, then again, Caro thought that Maggie Blythe had to have considerable experience in turning a blind eye to her husband's numerous infidelities. It was beyond Caro's experience to think that a man could have a pure friendship with a woman. There was the matter of her long time friendship with Jon. But, she didn't delude herself that the spark of attraction had not been there between them all along. At times, just knowing that a man, even if he was her husband's best friend, found her attractive was enough to keep her sane through all the years of the travesty of her marriage. Jon walked over to where Caro was sitting. “Caro, would you stand up with me?" “Don't you think that we are a little too old for such things?" “Absolutely,” he replied with a smile. “But, shall we dance anyway?" Caro smiled at him, rose from her chair, and gave him her hand. Caro joined Elinor and Lady Jersey after she had danced with Jon. “Well, Caro, dear,” Lady Jersey asked baldly, “what do you think of your new neighbour?" Lady Caroline smiled and remarked casually. “Considering everything, I think that she is a remarkable woman. I doubt that I would have had the courage to take a man's life when I had seen him kill someone whom I loved." Sally Jersey's eyebrows raised in query as she looked at Elinor. “What is this?" Elinor told Sally about Dousia's experience with the murderer. Lady Jersey's attention went to Dousia. A smile crossed Sally's face. “Yes, Caroline dear, I believe that your neighbour is a most unusual lady. Excuse me, I see the Duchess of Imbrie over there. I haven't seen her in months." When Sally Jersey had left them, Elinor turned to Caro questioning her strongly, “Why did you bring up the issue?" Caro looked puzzled. “Was it some sort of secret?" “Of course not,” Elinor replied. “But to tell that to Silence Jersey is to guarantee that the story makes the rounds." The dowager countess's face took on a contrite expression. “I didn't mean to cause any embarrassment." “It doesn't matter. Since we will be going to town for the Season, the story was bound to get out anyway,” Elinor replied. “Has she decided to marry?" “I believe that she has decided to look over what is available in the way of men. Whether any of them will touch her heart or not is another matter,” Elinor replied. “I'm opening up Clairborne house. The house hasn't been used during the season in a half dozen years. It's about time that the old place saw some parties." “When are you leaving for town?" “In a fortnight, I believe. There will be a good deal of work to get ready for the Season since Dousia's wardrobe is virtually non-existent on account of her having been in strict mourning for the last year."

“I suspect that you will be inundated with callers. An attractive woman with a fortune always attracts more than her share of masculine attention. The fact that she is well past the first bloom of youth should not matter in the least. Money can be a very powerful incentive for a man,” Caro replied thoughtfully. Elinor looked at the dowager and wondered when Caroline Rivington had come to be so terribly cynical. Elinor had become aware of the attraction between her brother and Lady Caro. In fact, Elinor suspected that the relationship between Jon and Caro was more than simply friendly. However, that was none of her business. For the briefest moment, Elinor feared for her brother's happiness. Out on the terrace, a figure lurked in the darkness. The sound of music swept over him. Anger filled him. The desire for revenge had been strong before, but now it was nearly overwhelming. It had taken months for him to be able to jump ship and return to England. It had been pure luck that a returning ship had picked him up in the lifeboat only days after he had jumped ship. A few more letters to Lady Caroline should be enough to goad the woman into ruining Dousia beyond redemption. Of course, that would have the added benefit of ruining Jon's happiness as well. But, that was a side-effect about which the man could not bring himself to feel sorrowful. With a smirk, Edward Clancey pulled his collar up around his ears and walked away. The Duke of Clarence requested Dousia's company for a waltz. Since she wasn't exactly the Duke's type, he preferred china doll blondes, she was puzzled. However, her puzzlement did not remain for long. “I have been hearing some very interesting things about you, my lady.” . “Indeed?" “What a brave woman you are,” he replied with admiration. “Not every woman would be able to keep her wits about her and to do that which was necessary in that situation." “I do not discuss that incident. I should like to be able to put the past behind me and simply go forward with my life." The duke smiled at her. “Of course, my dear lady. Tell me about your horses?" Dousia looked over in time to see William duck behind one of the pillars that lined the ballroom. He should have been in bed hours ago. She wondered how long he had been in the ballroom as she walked over to him. “Come on, Will,” she urged. The boy looked up at her sheepishly as he stepped from behind the pillar. “How did you know that I was here?" Dousia laughed softly as she sank to his level. “Ah ... I do have eyes." “Are you angry with me?" “No, I am not angry with you. You simply wanted to be part of all the excitement. But, you really should be in bed." “Will you dance with me, Dousia? Just once, then I promise that I will go to bed." By this time, a small crowd had assembled around them. A young child at an adult party was not a usual occurrence. “Just one dance, Dousia, please?” Will asked again. She smiled at her brother. “You, my dearest brother, are spoiled beyond praying for." Will smiled impishly at her. “If I am, who has made me that way?” he demanded, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

Dousia laughed, her face taking on pure joy. “Very well, my lord, one dance and then you are off to bed, where all good young boys should be at this hour. Understood?" Holding William up off the floor, so that their heads were roughly at the same level, Dousia proceeded to dance the steps of the waltz with her brother as several members of the ton looked on in amazement. “She should have sent the boy back up to his nanny,” one old woman said to Maggie Blythe. “Oh, perhaps, my lady,” Maggie allowed, “but, he is causing no harm." Sally Jersey looked on the sister and brother. “She should have children of her own,” she remarked strongly to Elinor. “Let's get her married off first, shall we, before we start talking of children,” Elinor replied amusedly. Lady Jersey smiled broadly. “Oh, I doubt that there will be any trouble doing that." Elinor's face took on a serious expression. “We'll just have to see about that." Across the room, Harry, the Marquis of Trouvaine, spoke with Jon. “Your niece is some woman, your grace." “Yes, she is at that,” Jon allowed. “I want to marry her,” Henry said. “Now, Trouvaine,” Jon countered good naturedly. “My niece is in charge of her own life and answerable to no one, not even myself. That is a matter between you and her." “You won't help me?" Jon laughed quietly. “Absolutely not. I happen to value my skin." Lady Caroline looked upon the sight of Dousia holding William, a slight smile on her face. “There's a sight that you don't see everyday,” the woman sitting next to her said disdainfully. “No,” Caro replied in an equally disdainful tone. “The way that she spoils that boy, you would almost think that he was hers." The other woman's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Indeed? She is old enough to have a child that age." At the other end of the hall, the Duke of Clarence looked in amusement at the dancing siblings. “You know, Mannering,” he said to the viscount standing beside him, “our hostess is an exceptional woman. We have some interesting times ahead this Season, don't you think?" Interesting was not the word. Exhausting, perhaps was closer to the mark. It was the middle of January when the Countess of Clairborne, the young Marquis of Edmonton, and Lady Theodousia arrived at Clairborne House in Berkeley Square. For the following month, the major pursuit of the Crawford women was to shop and to shop and to shop. Milliners, modistes, glovers, shoemakers, Dousia and Aunt Elinor visited them all. Dousia was thoroughly tired of having fittings after fittings after fittings. Yet, since, as her aunt continually reminded her, she had been in mourning for a year, her clothes from before her mourning period were decidedly out of fashion, for the most part. She was able to retain three riding habits and four morning gowns which Aunt Elinor decided weren't too terribly far out of fashion. But the remainder of her wardrobe, including an unbelievable ten ball gowns and a court dress, were to be made. Dousia counted the cost of her new wardrobe and found it absolutely appalling. She could have fed and clothed a hundred and twenty families for a year on the six thousand pounds which her wardrobe had cost her. Still, this is what Justin wanted, for her to make a good impression on society.

The news of the new heiress in town spread rapidly, as the ton came back to town in force during the last of February, first part of March. A steady stream of callers, mostly mommas of impecunious, yet well placed, men, filled Aunt Elinor's front parlour in order to make the acquaintance of the young woman whom they each felt could save their families from financial ruin. Once each momma had met Dousia, then it was a small matter for the women to introduce their respective sons to her. Dousia accepted this as the way of things. She had been plagued by fortune hunters for so many years that she could easily recognize one when she saw him. But, even she had to admit that the London variety of the species made the Virginia variety look like rank amateurs. So smooth, so polished, were the array of gentlemen who called upon her, even before her official introduction to London society, that she found herself at some trouble to keep from laughing openly at their machinations. She had been labeled ‘The Unattainable’ by one gentlemen who had gone through a difficult time in understanding that she simply was not interested in him. Unfortunately, the label stuck. Privately, Dousia thought the entire situation ludicrous in the extreme. The only reason that she was in London for the season was to please Justin. Dousia's official introduction to the ton was an evening at Almack's. Having never been on King Street, Dousia found the buildings there, Almack's included, to be very much a relief. Having heard so much about the Marriage Mart, she half expected the building to be nearly as garish as the Regent's home, Carlton House. Instead, the rooms were spacious and tastefully decorated without the gilt and glitter or overly ornate architectural pseudo-art which plagued far too many buildings. But, then again, if the walls of the main assembly room had been any color but stark white, they might have clashed horribly with some lady's dress, Dousia thought irreverently. As it was, with the setting carefully neutral, full attention could be given to the richly costumed and bejeweled occupants as opposed to having some measure of attention taken away with consideration of the surroundings. After a stocky white-haired porter cleared his throat and had announced the arrival of His Grace the Duke of Winton, Her ladyship the Countess of Clairborne, and Lady Langley, the Crawford trio made their way across the room to where the lady patronesses of Almack's were holding court. Lady Jersey and Countess Lieven, the wife of the Russian ambassador, were there in all of their glory. The raven-haired countess looked at Dousia in open curiosity, before she turned to Sally Jersey with a smile and a nod. Dousia was not seated for even two minutes before a gentleman whom she had met, a Mr. Frederick Willard, came up to solicit her hand in the set of country dances which was just then forming. Uncle Jon looked up at Freddy Willard appraisingly. “Good evening Willard. How is old Danver doing these days?" “The earl is in fine health, thank you, your grace,” Freddy replied politely, but in a voice which held respect and perhaps even a degree of fear. “Glad to hear it,” Jon responded tightly. “How is your arm? Fully recovered, I trust?" There was a tense moment as Freddy seemed to debate about asking her to dance. Dousia didn't know what it was that was between Uncle Jon and Mr. Willard. However, the fact that Freddy Willard was afraid of Uncle Jon made him a safe partner for a dance, so she accepted the invitation. Dousia was anything except a wall-flower. She danced every dance, each set with a different partner. She had been dancing solidly for about an hour with barely a break between partners when His Lordship, the Earl of Lytton was announced. Dousia sent the man who had been her escort to fetch her a glass of orgeat. Justin, after paying his compliments to the patronesses, made his way directly over to her wearing a very content smile. Several pairs of eyes were firmly affixed to Justin and Dousia as he took her hand and kissed it in greeting. The flames of gossip began burning as the broad, open, smile which Dousia gave to Justin was noted. The strains of a waltz came to his ears. “May I have this dance?"

“Of course, my lord,” Dousia replied in a far too casual tone. Justin held her just a bit tighter than was strictly required. But she wasn't about to protest since she wanted to be nowhere more than in his arms. “When did you return to London, Justin?" “Yesterday evening. I confess that I spent most of today at the Foreign Office. I was going to wait until tomorrow to call on you, but I couldn't wait any longer to see you. You are quite as lovely as I remembered you." “Justin..." “What?" “Nothing ... Just Justin..." “Do you have any notion of how much I would like to have you alone just now?” he said in a voice designed to carry no further than her ears. “I am half tempted to carry you off right now." “Ah ... well, I suppose that I have no worries on that score since you are only half tempted..." “Vixen!" Dousia laughed, the sound, low and throaty, bringing even more attention to them. “Disgraceful,” one turbaned matron remarked to her longsuffering husband as they sat at the side of the room. “Oh, I don't know, m'dear,” the gentleman replied lightly. “While I would not want our Elsie to be involved with a man like that, you have to admit that it is a different matter for a widow like Lady Langley." “He's just come back to England after having gone abroad in the wake of that most disgraceful duel with Wexley." “Really, Emiline, what does Lytton's conduct matter to you. You should be grateful to Lady Langley for keeping his attention away from the debutantes." “Still, our Elsie could do a good deal worse for herself than Lytton. If only the man weren't such a rake...” the matron replied thoughtfully. “Reformed rakes make the best husbands." “Reforming that one would take a better woman than our Elsie." Lady Caroline watched as her son waltzed with Lady Theodousia. She had thought with all the attention the woman had been getting from the male population of London, that Dousia would have accepted one of the many offers of marriage of which the tattle mongers had been talking. It seemed that every gazetted fortune-hunter in town was hanging out after the Langley widow. The dowager was not overjoyed to hear that Theodousia had been given the label “The Unattainable". Especially not since Dousia was giving every indication of being profoundly attainable to Caro's son. I will not have this, the dowager thought angrily as she recalled the words of the report which Bates had compiled. While nothing could be proven about Dousia's involvement in the deaths of her husband and father, it was clear that she had killed one man. More than that, from the report, it was fairly clear that Dousia had been Thomas Langley's mistress for almost a year before they had married. This was not the type of woman whom she wanted for a daughter-in-law. Not at all. Caro's eyes strayed to a blonde debutante of a good family. Now, that was more like it. Elsie Forrester, the daughter of Sir Clement Forrester. The chit was only the daughter of a baronet, but she was exactly what Justin needed: a young, profoundly biddable, malleable wife who would make him comfortable; a girl who was young enough to have a dozen children to assure the continuation of the name; and most of all, a girl who would be intimidated by Caro enough not to have any ideas of taking the management of Lytton Hall away

from Caro. Yes, Caro thought, I have to arrange that. Jon crossed the room to come sit beside Caro as Justin and Dousia were dancing. “They make a good looking couple, don't they,” Jon said. Caro looked at Jon in surprise. “You think so?" “Of course, not as good of a couple as we make,” Jon said. “Caro, may I call on you tomorrow?” His green eyes were dark with the desire he felt for her. Caro smiled. “Justin is home. I'm not certain that we can get any privacy,” she said after she had made sure of the fact that no one was within easy listening distance. Jon smiled at her. “Then come to my house. There is no one at home but the servants and me,” he urged. She nodded in agreement, very much anticipating their time together. Dousia smiled as Justin twirled her around the room. “I've missed you." Justin's grey eyes glimmered as they looked into her green ones. “Good!" “Good? Is that all you have to say?" “Because I've missed you more than I can tell you." “Where were you, or is it a secret?" “St. Petersburg. But, I can't tell you any more than that." “Meet many exotic Russian women?" “I was too busy to pay much attention to women." “I can feel your heart beating, so I know that you aren't dead,” she countered in an attempt at humor. He had to laugh at her statement. Then suddenly, he became serious. “If you don't stop looking at me like that, Dousia. I am going to kiss you right here on the dance floor." She looked down, towards the floor as the music died away. Justin escorted her back to the chair in which she had been sitting. “May I ride with you in the morning?" “I think that I should very much like that."

Chapter Nine Justin awoke feeling much better about life in general than he had in a very long time. There was no doubt in his mind from the way that Dousia responded to him last evening that she cared for him. She had granted him no fewer than three dances: two of which were waltzes. That would start tongues a wagging. Dousia, in the company of a groom, rode out, as was her custom at a most unfashionably early morning hour. Seeing Justin riding Demon, she was glad that she was wearing what she considered to be her prettiest riding habit. Cut along rather a masculine line, the black braid trimmed, rust colored superfine coat outlined the soft curves of her figure. The divided skirt was of the same cloth and trim. Her deep auburn hair, she had braided, then rolled into a knot at the back of her head. A chip hat of black netting and twirling black feathers, along with black leather gloves and black boots completed the outfit. Justin reigned in Demon as he approached her.

“Good morning, my lady!" She smiled broadly at him. “And a good morning to you, my lord. What brings you out at such an unfashionable hour?" He smiled at her. “When is it ever out of the way for a gentleman to accompany a lovely lady?" “Come now, Justin, there is absolutely no need for you to try to turn me up sweet,” she chided softly. “ However, if you wish to ride with me, I would suggest that we get moving." Returning to Clairborne House, after a most energetic ride, Dousia turned to Justin. “May I offer you breakfast, my lord?" He returned her smile. “I really shouldn't..." “I assure you that I shan't mind your dirt, my lord,” she teased unmercifully. “Then how can I refuse?" That evening, Dousia canceled out her plans to go to a ball, in favor of attending a performance of a play with Justin. Aunt Elinor along with one of her husband's many nephews, a rather dour faced young man named Norman, Uncle Jon and Lady Caroline, Justin and Dousia made up the impromptu party filling the Lytton box. It was a glittering evening. The play was insipid and melodramatic, the story of revenge gone terribly wrong. But Dousia did not notice as her attention was all taken up with the knowledge that Justin, after months of absence, was seated beside her. After the play, she knew that they would go back to Clairbourne House for a late supper. Then maybe, she and Justin would have some time alone, together, if she could manage the situation correctly. They drew their fair share of attention from the playgoers. The story of how Dousia had granted Justin three dances at Almack's the night before had rapidly made the rounds. Opinion was divided as to whether there was to be an engagement announced, or whether the earl had simply found himself a new mistress. Arguments were made for both positions. Wagers were duly recorded as to whether The Unattainable would become the next Countess of Lytton. Regardless of the opinion held, several people could not but stare at Dousia and Justin as they tried to find something to re-enforce their own belief as to the nature of the situation. Dousia was happily ignorant of the extent of the speculations about her and Justin. The late supper was every bit the culinary masterpiece which Dousia had expected, even in spite of the fact that until this morning, Aunt Elinor's chief had anticipated everyone being out. However, Dousia could have been eating ground glass for all she knew. Conversation was general, and not terribly stimulating. Soon, the ladies retired to the parlour, leaving the gentlemen to their port and cigars. Once in the front parlour, Caro turned to Dousia. “The first time that you had dinner at Lytton Hall, you said that you didn't play the pianoforte. I was wondering if you have brought your instrument, whatever it is, to London and would play for us when the gentlemen return." Dousia looked over at Aunt Elinor for permission. Elinor nodded, “That is totally your affair, Dousia dear. You know how I love to hear you play." “I shall return in a few moments, then,” she replied with a smile, in spite of the fact that this wasn't how she had planned the evening at all. The last thing that she particularly wanted to do tonight was to be the center of attention. Dousia would have far rather been able to slip out into the back garden for a few moments alone with Justin. However, it didn't look as though that was going to materialize. By the time Dousia returned, carrying her violin case, the gentlemen had come into the parlour. Justin raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “I didn't know that you played the violin, my lady." She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I'd wager that there are a good many things about me which you do not know, my lord."

“Indeed, there are, my lady,” Justin replied with a broad smile, “However, I cannot think of a more pleasant pursuit than attempting to learn your secrets." She took only a moment to make certain that the instrument was in tune. “By your permission?” she asked her aunt. “Of course, my dear,” Aunt Elinor replied. “Play something lively. After the insipidness of the play this evening, we all could use something to snap us out of the lethargic mood." With a thoughtful smile, Dousia walked over to where the pianoforte stood. Placing the violin under her chin, she began to play the Rondo from Mozart's Violin Concerto number three in G. From the first notes, she closed her eyes and gave her full attention to the music. It was just as well that she did not see the look of profound consternation that flickered over Caroline's face as the dowager realized that Dousia was quite an accomplished violist. But, if she missed that sight, she also missed the look of pride and joy which was on Justin's face as she played. “Play something else,” Aunt Elinor's nephew, Norman, asked at the conclusion of the piece. “I should rather be excused from doing so,” she replied softly. “Herr Mozart's music, while beautiful, is difficult enough to perform creditably that I do not feel equal performing further. Perhaps someone else would give us a tune?" Uncle Jon laughed. “No, my dear, I fear that none of us wish to follow that performance." Dousia walked across the room and put her violin away. “You must practice quite a bit,” Norman remarked thoughtfully. “If I miss practice on one day, I can tell the difference. Missing practice on two days, other people can tell,” Dousia replied. “It is a shame that, with a talent like that, you were born into the aristocracy,” Caro responded thoughtfully. Dousia smiled and laughed quietly. “Well, ma'am, as only one person in the history of the world has ever been fortunate enough to have been able to choose His own parents, there is not much that I could do about the family to whom I was born." Smiles went around the room. Norman quickly took his leave, claiming that he had to meet with his solicitor early the next morning. Uncle Jon offered to take Lady Caroline home in his carriage. “That's is quite all right, Jon. I shall go home with Justin." Justin smiled at his mother. “Do you propose to ride double with me, Mother?" “I had forgotten that you rode over. Silly of me,” Caro replied lightly. “In that case, Jon, I should be most happy to take your offer." Jon smiled at her, his eyes sparkling. “I rather thought that you would." Shortly after his mother and her uncle had left, Elinor excused herself, leaving Dousia and Justin alone in the parlour. “Come here,” he commanded hoarsely extending his arms to her. Willingly, she went to him. They had not had enough time together, alone, for her to enjoy his embrace. She

wanted to be in his arms, yet she was half afraid of the wantonness which he so easily solicited from her. “One kiss, then I'll be going." She leaned up slightly to touch her lips to his, prepared for the explosion of passion which always had happened when their lips met. She wasn't disappointed. The kiss started slowly, tenderly, but built rapidly. She knew that she wanted him in a way that she had wanted only one man before him. Right now, she wanted to take him up to her room and make love with him. But, that was out of the question. Completely. Slowly, she backed away from him. “Goodnight, Justin." “Shall I call by for you in the morning for your ride?" “I believe that I should like that." The next two weeks proceeded in the same pattern. Justin would ride with her first thing in the morning, come back to Clairborne house for breakfast, then leave, only to reappear that evening in order to escort her to whatever function they were attending. During their time together, neither of them mentioned the betrothal contract from which he had so gallantly offered to release her. No mention, at all, of marriage was made. Neither did he seek any intimacy further than kisses at the end of the evening. The sexual tension between them grew quite intense. She was afraid of touching him, when they were alone, for fear of sending them both out of control. She had known before he had begun this period of gentle courting, that she felt desire for him. She had even known that she loved him. What was a surprise to her was how much she had come to actually like him. He had become her friend, her confidante. Realizing that he would not press her for a culmination of the physical relationship, gave her the room to make up her mind what it was that she wanted. Without a single doubt, she knew that she wanted him, as a lover, as a friend, but most of all as her husband. One morning, Justin pulled Demon up in front of Clairborne house. Dousia wasn't there. A liveried footman met him. “Her ladyship requests that you join her in the library, milord." “Take care of my horse,” Justin said with a smile. The butler stood at the door, looking at him appraisingly. “Good morning, my lord,” Timmons, the butler, said as they reached the door. “Good morning, Timmons. I understand that I am expected." “Yes, my lord. This way please." “You realize that we have just broken more rules of conduct than are acceptable to break?” Justin said lightly after she dismissed the butler. He smiled at her. “Remember what passed between us the last time that we were in here?" She smiled at him. “Very well. Oh, Justin, I have been so tired of not being able to talk to you without fear of interruption." “What did you want to say?" Timmons knocked at the door. “Come in,” Dousia responded harshly. A footman came into the room carrying a coffee service. Timmons followed. “Thank you, Timmons. We will serve ourselves,” Dousia instructed them.

“Come, sit beside me, Justin,” Dousia said lowly as she poured coffee into the bone china cups. Justin sat beside her, eying her warily. “What did you want to discuss?" “Us,” she replied as she took a sip of the coffee, then placed the cup down on the table before them. “How would three weeks from Saturday suit you for a wedding?" Justin smiled. “Do you mean it?” he asked incredulously. “I love you, Justin." He took her in his arms. “That's what I've been waiting to hear,” he said hoarsely. “Do you know how difficult it has been for me to kiss you goodnight and walk away from you?" “It hasn't been easy for me to let you,” she whispered softly. “Do you still have the license?" “Yes." “Then we can forego the banns being read. I would like to keep this just between us for a little while longer, please. Just our secret?" Justin smiled at her. “Any other woman would be wanting to shout it from the rooftops." “I am not any other woman." “I had noticed that, yes." She looked at him, her eyes showing the depth of her love for him. Justin looked at her. His breath seemed to catch in his throat. “If you continue to look at me like that, Dousia darling. I won't be responsible for my actions." “Oh?" “Don't play with fire, Theodousia,” Justin warned in a growl. “You've been married, you know what I want." “I've never felt this way about any other man, Justin." “Never? Not even with Thomas?" “I was a girl when I married Thomas,” she replied hesitantly. “We ... How much do you know about my marriage?" “You weren't married long. He was thrown from a horse and died of a head wound,” Justin told her flatly. She looked down and drew a couple of deep breaths to steady her nerves. “Thomas and I were very close. I loved him. Deeply. But, we were only together ... conjugally ... the one time ... on our wedding night ... It wasn't a pleasant experience ... But, I think that it will be different with you." He touched her face. “Oh, Dousia..." “Will you think me shameless, if I ask you to kiss me?” Dousia asked as she looked up at him for the first time since she told him about Thomas. Justin smiled as he took her into his arms. “Kiss me, instead, sweetheart,” he whispered. A knock at the door forced Dousia out of Justin's arms. “Yes,” she answered after a short pause to catch her breath and to straighten her clothing.

Eva was at the door. “Dousia ... Will is ill." “Ill?” Dousia replied tightly. “Chickenpox, I think. We'll have to keep an eye on him to make sure." “Chickenpox,” Justin replied. “That means quarantine." “You had better go, Justin. You haven't had any contact with Will lately,” Dousia said reluctantly. “You don't want to be involved in the quarantine, if it comes to that." “Keep care of yourself,” Justin said. **** Justin wore a thoughtful expression as he walked into Lytton House on Grosvenor Square. His mother met him in the entry hall. “Justin, I would like a word with you, privately." “Can it wait, Mother?" “No. It has waited long enough. It can't wait any longer. In the library, please,” Caro said strongly. Following his mother into the library and closing the door behind them, Justin asked strongly, “What is so important, Mother?" “You've been spending an inordinate amount of time with Theodousia Langley." Justin's expression changed from an indulgent one to a fierce one. “I don't believe that is any business of yours, Mother." “This,” she said as she picked up the final report Bates had prepared, “is a report on the woman. I sent an investigator to America to find out what I could about her." Justin's eyes glimmered dangerously. “You had no right to do that." “I didn't want you to make the same mistake that you did with that Spanish chit. One unworthy wife is enough for you to bring into the family." “Listen to me, Mother. Nothing in that report could possibly mean anything to me. Everything about her past that is important, I already know,” Justin said far too quietly. “Did you know that she was her late husband's mistress for about a year before she married him? Did you know that she was suspected of murdering him? Did you know that the man who killed her father was her lover? Or that she killed him while he was making love to her? Did you know that the boy that she passes off as Jon's heir is actually her son, instead of her brother?” Caro demanded hysterically. Justin laughed. “Mother, whoever did that investigation for you was thoroughly incompetent. None of that story is true. Not a bit of it. Jon was present when the boy was born. He knows that little Will was his brother's son." “Here's the report. Read it for yourself." “Mother, I don't have time to waste in reading fiction." “She has you so involved with her that you won't believe the truth about her, doesn't she?"

“Listen to me very carefully Mother. If you say even a word about those lies to anyone, I will personally see that you regret it,” Justin said menacingly. “The estate north of Craigenputtock sits empty, as does the house in Dumferline. Perhaps you would care for Scotland?" Caro's face went white as a piece of sun bleached linen. “You would actually bring that woman into this family?" “That's enough, Mother. You will treat Dousia courteously, or you will suffer the consequences. We will be marrying in three weeks,” he told her in no uncertain terms, just before he left the room. Caro looked at the door out of which her son had just left. She shook her head sadly. No matter what Justin had just told her, Caro was not going to sit idly by and watch her only remaining son make a sad muddle of his life. There was only one way. She had to discredit Dousia Langley to the degree that Justin could not possibly marry her with honor. And she had to do that without either Jon or Justin finding out that she was the one behind it. She had no doubt that Justin would carry out his threat to exile her to Scotland. But that didn't worry her nearly as much as losing Jon's affection. It wasn't Jon's fault that his niece was a murderess and a whore. None of this could, by any reasonable thought process, reflect on him. Yet, she needed all the ammunition that she could possibly possess in her battle to free her son from the clutches of that woman. There was only one way of carrying out the ruining of Dousia Langley. On Caro's afternoon calls, she would make some casual comments about the way in which Dousia's husband died so soon after the wedding, about how Dousia had been raped by the man who killed her father, and about the extremely close resemblance of Dousia and William considering that they had different mothers. Telling one carefully selected gossip each story, then swearing the woman to secrecy should insure that all the tales spread like wildfire. There was no choice in the matter. If Justin would not break with the woman voluntarily, Caro would have to make certain that he had no choice in the matter.

Chapter Ten William had truly succumbed to chickenpox. The occupants of Clairborne House had been out of the public eye and out of personal contact with other people for two weeks until William's disease was past the point of being contagious. Will had been both profoundly itchy and in a foul mood. He had to be constantly reminded not to scratch at the blisters. Eva had been able to keep him somewhat soothed with a lotion which she had compounded. Aunt Elinor had to stay out of contact with the boy, since contact with chickenpox in children was suspected of causing shingles in middle-aged adults. It had not been at all a pleasant period of time for the occupants of Clairborne House. On the first day that it was safe for her to go out without risking spreading the infection to other people, Justin called for her in his curricle, alone, in order to take her for a drive in Hyde Park. “How does it feel to be out of quarantine?” he asked gently as he handed her up into the carriage. “Like I'd imagine it would feel to be suddenly released from prison." “I've missed you,” he said throatily. She smiled in return. “I think that I would have gone mad without your letters." “You would have survived,” Justin said proudly. “You are one of the strong ones." Dousia smiled. “I do love you, Justin." “That's good. Since we are to be married on Saturday, that is very good,” he replied jovially. “I've spoke with Uncle Henry. You remember, my uncle the bishop?" “Yes,” she replied quietly.

“He's unable to marry us on Saturday." “Well, then, shall we have Quentin read the ceremony?” she asked quietly. “He'd like that,” Justin said thoughtfully. “Although, he would rather be making the vows with you than leading me in doing so." Dousia looked at him in surprise. “You mustn't take Quentin's teasing too seriously, Justin. I'm sure that he didn't at all mean his proposal." “Ah, Dousia. The thing of it is that he did." “Justin?” Dousia replied curiously. “I do believe that you are jealous of Quintin." “Demned right!” he replied. Then he looked sideways at Dousia. “My language is deplorable, at times. I do apologize." Dousia smiled at him. “I've heard worse." “Of that, my dear, I have absolutely no doubt,” he replied easily with a large smile. Then he became serious. “ Are you certain that you wish to have such a small wedding?" Dousia shook her head affirmatively. “I had one big wedding, Justin, complete with the large reception, et cetera. I don't want another. You and I with the minister and the required witnesses will do just fine. I am quite content the way that I am ... In case you are planning on giving me flowers to carry or wear, my gown will be pale green." “Saturday seems a long way away." Dousia smiled. “I know. I can hardly contain myself." “Sweetheart, I think that we had better change the subject,” he replied throatily. “Or we will end up at the house on Lisle Street, instead of Hyde Park." “That almost sounds like a good idea,” Dousia responded lowly. “We'll wait until Saturday,” Justin replied for only Dousia's ears. “I want more than a few stolen hours with you." Dousia smiled. “Yes. I understand that." “You must definitely stop looking at me like that,” Justin warned. “How am I looking at you?" “As though you want me to make love with you,” Justin told her huskily. She smiled and blushed. “You read me too well, my love,” she replied quietly. **** Lady Caroline was surprised to have a caller in the form of Edward Clancey using the name William Chance. “Mr. Clancey? I thought that Jon told me you had gone to Australia?” she said, puzzled, as Edward came into the morning room. Edward looked around. “Could I have a moment alone with you, my lady. It is a rather important matter, or I wouldn't risk being here." “Of course, Mr. Clancey, please be seated,” Caro replied, regaining her composure. “What is it that I can do

for you?" “I had hoped that I could be of service to you, my lady. What did you hear about my departure to Australia?” Edward asked intensely. “That you had decided to emigrate. That was really all,” Caro replied. Edward's mouth turned up into a smirk. “The story that I am about to tell you is going to sound strange, yet I swear to you that it is true." “Pray, go on." “You know, my lady, that I have served the Duke of Winton faithfully for years." “Yes, I know that Jon always found your services indispensable. That is one reason I was so surprised at his letting you go to Australia without a fight." Edward cleared his throat. “His niece made some accusations against me which Jon believed based on manufactured evidence. She wanted me out of the way. You see, I found out that she was stealing money from her brother's estate." Caro drew a shocked breath. “So, she needed, you see, to make certain that I would not be able to go to Jon with the evidence of her embezzlement." Caro shook her head quietly. “Oh, my dear fellow. How bad for you!" “How bad for Uncle Jon. She has already placed one of her own people in the position of steward for Uncle Jon. I fear that she means to rob him as well as her brother,” Edward said quietly. When Caro's face showed no disbelief, he continued. “The woman is most persuasive in her arguments. Jon did not even allow me to defend myself before he told me that I was out of a job and strongly suggested that I leave the country." Caro closed her eyes tightly, her face showing naught but pain. “That woman!” she muttered. “Something has to be done about that woman." “Yet, what can any of us do about her without sinking to her level?” Edward said in a mendaciously pain-filled voice. “I do not know, Mr. Clancey,” Caro replied quietly. “My lady, the only reason that I've come to see you is that it has come to my attention the Earl is contemplating marrying the woman. This is something which you cannot allow to happen." “My son, Mister Clancey, is a grown man. If he decides to marry her, there is not a thing I can do about it,” Caro said flatly. Edward's face seemed to crumple. “I hate to have to admit this, my lady, for I feel like a fool. But, the heart is not always wise. You see, I fell in love with the woman. Oh, I know that she is treacherous, in the extreme, but, God help me, I still love her." “My dear, dear, Mister Clancey...” Caro replied compassionately. “Perhaps, if we think long and hard enough about this, we may be able to come up with a solution which would be mutually beneficial." Edward removed a card from his case and a pencil from his pocket. “This is where you may find me, if you find that you have need of me,” he said firmly as he printed the address of his lodgings on the back. “Please, feel free to call upon me, at any time."

**** During their drive in the park, Dousia found herself the recipient of no less than ten direct cuts from ladies with whom she had previously been on easy terms. Several other women were noticeably cool to her. The men weren't much better. Although, they didn't cut her acquaintance. Instead, there was a decided lack of formality in their address to her. Not so much in their words, which were all proper and good, but in the way in which they looked at her, as though she were somehow less than a lady. Dousia was at wits’ end trying to figure out exactly what she had said or done to cause such a widespread reaction. She knew that gossip was a good deal like mud on clothing. If she tried to eradicate it, by rubbing it while it was still wet, it was likely to create only a bigger mess and a possibly permanent stain. But, if she was patient and allowed it to dry, it would flake off without doing too much damage, at all. The only thing was that she had never been a particularly patient woman. Coupling that personality fault with the fact that she never could stand the feel of damp, mucky mud, added up to a singularly unpleasant time ahead for Dousia. Justin returned her to Clairborne House after their drive. He extracted a promise from her that she would not be overly late to the ball at Lytton House this coming evening. A steady stream of callers plagued her for a good two hours that afternoon. The fortune-hunters who had since given up on her were now back, in strength. But, this time, the looks which she received were anything but respectful. If the looks were not respectful, neither were the propositions and proposals put to her. But Dousia had gone through this before. Having put up with a steady stream of callers for two hours, she thought that she had tolerated quite enough in the way of impositions on her time, so she informed Aunt Elinor's butler to tell any further callers that she was not at home. She was going to give herself plenty of time to pamper herself and get ready for Lady Caroline's ball. She had the feeling she would need all the help she could get. Once a season, Lady Caroline gave a grand ball at Lytton House in order to pay back all of the invitations that she had received during the year. The Lytton ball was always a glittering affair with everyone of social prominence attending. The party was well under way when she arrived, in her uncle's escort, at ten o'clock. If she thought that the reception which she had received in the park was cold, it had been extremely warm in comparison to one the which she received in the ballroom. Justin, seeing the cold shoulders she was receiving, did not even allow her to sit. Instead he swept her off onto the floor for a waltz. “Just smile, darling,” he urged her quietly. “I don't know what is going on, but I will find out." “I've survived worse than social ostracism, you know. But, if you wish to cry off on marrying me, I will not hold it against you,” she offered. “We are getting married on Saturday, my love. And that is all there is to it,” Justin said. Dousia stood behind a potted palm, listening to two young, first season, debutantes talking about her. She had heard her name mentioned, so she stopped and listened, conscious, of course, that eavesdroppers seldom hear good things about themselves. “I overheard Momma tell Lady Sefton that Lady Langley killed her husband,” one girl said strongly. “That I hadn't heard. I did hear that Lady Langley lived with her husband for a year before they were married,” the other girl replied. “No! Really? She looks so refined, so lady-like." “They even say that the young Marquis of Edmonton is her son, not her brother. Momma says that there has to be more to the story of how the Duke's brother died than Lady Langley is letting on. The killer was found

with a knife in his back." Dousia walked out onto the terrace in order to think. At least, she knew what was being said about her, now. That was something. Dousia could understand that she had left herself open for comments. But for gossip to concern her innocent brother, this was too much to bear. Justin followed her out onto the terrace. “Sweetheart?” he asked quietly as he came up behind her. “They are saying that I murdered Thomas, and that William is my son,” Dousia replied quietly. “I know, sweeting. I've asked what the gossip was. It is all so ludicrous,” Justin replied tightly. “Not all of it. They are also saying that I lived with Thomas before we were married. That's not exactly a lie." Justin looked at her in puzzlement. Dousia explained. “Thomas and my Uncle Peter were business partners. Thomas lived in Uncle Peter's house. He was single. He and Peter were good friends. It made no sense for Thomas to have a house, and all the expense, just for himself. When Uncle Peter was widowed, I went to live with him to supervise the running of his household and to serve as hostess at his table. Uncle Peter also taught me his business. Uncle did a fair amount of traveling that year. There were times that he took me with him. Thomas continued to live there in Uncle's house. There were times when Uncle would be gone, alone, leaving Thomas and I, unchaperoned, in the house with the servants. Perhaps it was improper. Yet, although Thomas and I became aware of our feelings for one another, there was nothing more than a few kisses pass between us until our wedding day." Justin smiled. “I know that there was nothing improper about it. Come back inside. It is almost time for supper." Justin led her onto the floor for the supper dance, then into the supper room, stopping only a moment to speak privately with Tony Blythe. When supper was nearly over, Uncle Jon rose from his seat. In his booming voice, he said, “Your Highness, my lords and ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen.” The room became silent. “I would give you a toast to the health of the Earl and future Countess of Lytton. Justin, Theodousia, to your good health and happiness together." There was a stunned silence for the briefest moment. A silence which was broken only by the Regent saying strongly, as he stood, glass raised, “Yes, indeed, to the happiness of the Earl and his lovely Countess-to-be!" With Prinny's so obvious approval of the match, it would have been less than politic for anyone not to stand and join the toast, no matter what they personally thought of the couple. Caro was very careful in her acceptance of congratulations and best wishes for her son. She looked over at Jon. He looked so happy. She wished that she could be as certain that this marriage would be a good thing. Still, there was time to convince Justin of what sort of mistake he was making. But she knew that it was a lost cause. No, she wouldn't let herself believe that. There had to be some way of preventing the marriage. She would think of something. Maybe Mr. Clancey would have some notion of how to proceed. She would send for him in the morning. All she knew was that at this moment she could not afford to show any disdain for this match. Jon spoke softly to her. “Caroline, dearest, my offer of matrimony is still open. All you have to say is yes." Caro, seeing the prospect of a future of being relegated to the Dower house or one of the properties in Scotland, since she was certain that Dousia would not care to have her underfoot, smiled at Jon and said softly, “Yes, Jon. I'll be your wife." With that, Jon kissed her lightly in the presence of the entire company. Embarrassedly, she pulled away from him with a blush on her cheeks. Tony Blythe smiled at Jon and Caro. “Shall I be the first to wish you happy?” he asked amusedly.

Jon smiled broadly. Tony stood, glass in hand. “Your highness, my lords and ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen,” Tony said with amusement in his voice. “People, like fine wine, grow better with age. Tonight, we are privileged to be present at the tapping of a rare vintage indeed. To the health and happiness of the Duke of Winton and his future bride, the Dowager Countess of Lytton." “Saturday?” Uncle Jon demanded incredulously of Dousia as they were dancing. “That is only five days away." Dousia smiled. “I shall be leaving tomorrow for Seahaven. I had rather hoped that you could join me on Thursday or Friday, and then be there for the wedding." “Winton Abbey would be closer. Your grandparents and great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents were all married in the chapel there. It would be preferable if you were able to find yourself capable of carrying on the tradition,” Jon told her. “Saturday? This Saturday?” Caro replied hollowly when her son told her of the date of the wedding as they danced. “But, why the hurry? You've only just now become betrothed." “No, Mother. Dousia and I signed our betrothal contracts last August. But she needed to complete her mourning and then I was out of the country, so the wedding kept getting put off. I am tired of waiting. The wedding will be Saturday." The rest of the party passed too slowly for Caro. The only way to stop this marriage between Dousia and Justin was to have Dousia kidnapped and married off to someone else. Bates had been right: there were many men in London who would be only too glad to do the job. Perhaps, even Mr. Clancey, who professed to love the woman, would be able to do that. That would be nearly perfect since he was supposed to be in Australia. If the marriage was to take place in a matter of days, that didn't leave much time to prevent the marriage. Perhaps preventing the vows would be impossible. She rather thought that it would be. A plot began to hatch in her mind. Caro might not be able to prevent the wedding, but she could prevent the marriage. The more she thought about it, the more she was resolved that this would be the way to proceed. If only Mr. Clancey would agree.

Chapter Eleven Quentin stood at the ancient stone altar of the chapel at Winton Abbey. Justin stood there in front of Quentin, with Uncle Jon standing by his side. Will sat in a front pew. Justin's mother sat by herself in the other front pew. Maggie and Tony Blythe were seated immediately behind Will. Francois was seated in a back pew along with Eva. Aunt Elinor was walking directly in front of her. They were the only occupants of the chapel as the late morning sun streamed through the carefully preserved original stained glass windows, casting colored shadows on the well polished marble floor. Quentin cleared his throat and began to read the words that had been read, in some form or other, since the beginning of the Christian Era. How Dousia managed to keep her wits about her enough to be able to make the proper responses, she would never know. But, apparently she did, for it was only a few short minutes later that they were signing the register. And then that Quentin handed her their marriage lines. Justin smiled at his old friend. “Thank you, Quentin." Quentin smiled in return. “It was my pleasure, Justin.” The parson's eyes took on a mischievous, boyish, gleam. “Maybe now that you are no longer available, some of the local females will start looking seriously at me, instead of dreaming about becoming the Countess of Lytton."

Both men laughed good naturedly. “You know, Justin,” Quentin said, “I shall be most disappointed if there is not a child to be christened within a year." Dousia colored brightly. Then she forced the blush down. She stole a glance at her husband, “If there isn't,” she said, “I doubt that it will be on account of any lack of trying." Quintin laughed. “See, Quentin, the mischief which you have done. You have gone and married me to a bold...” Justin teased his friend. “Careful, husband...” Dousia warned. “May I kiss the bride?” Quentin asked, changing the subject. Jon walked over to Caro. “Darling,” he said quietly, “I have a special license in my pocket. Will you marry me, now?" Caro smiled softly. “Are you sure that this is what you want?" “I've never offered anything which I wasn't willing to do." She nodded and gave him her hand. Jon and Caro walked up to where the bride was being kissed by the parson. “Justin, would you stand as my best man?” Jon asked. “Now?" “Your mother and I are a bit on the old side to be wasting time, don't you think?” he answered jovially. As soon as Quentin had pronounced the older couple as man and wife, and they had signed the register, Tony and Maggie Blythe had come forward. Tony congratulated both couples. “Really, your grace,” Maggie teased, “if you had planned on making it a double ceremony, you and the Duchess should have gone first." A large and elaborate wedding luncheon had been prepared. By the time that they had eaten, drank, talked, laughed, and danced to the imperfect, but joyfully performed, music Aunt Elinor insisted on providing upon the pianoforte, it was well into the afternoon. There was still a matter of several hours drive to Lytton Hall. Maggie and Tony agreed to take Will for the rest of the weekend and to deliver him to her at Lytton Hall on Monday. Will, for his part, was anxious to see the several suits of armour which Tony had told him were present at Blythe Manor. Adjoining bedrooms had been prepared for Justin and Dousia's use in order for them to prepare for the wedding, and to change out of their finery, afterwards. Maggie Blythe had accompanied Dousia up to her room to help her change. Maggie had just finished unfastening the hooks on the back of Dousia's wedding gown when a knock came at the connecting door. Justin opened the door without waiting for acknowledgment. His neck cloth was loose and his shirt partially unbuttoned. “Lady Margaret, thank you for your assistance. I'll take over now." Maggie looked at Dousia.

“You really think that you're qualified as a ladies’ maid, my lord husband?" Justin laughed throatily, “I believe that you shall have no cause to complain." “Go on, Maggie. Thank you." Maggie smiled at them as she left. “You have just embarrassed me, drastically, Justin." “Sweetheart, Maggie Blythe is a grown woman. She knows about such things,” Justin said quietly as he crossed the room to her. “Let me help you out of that dress." “Justin...” she said breathlessly, as his lips grazed her neck while his hands gently pushed the light green fabric from her shoulders. “Justin..." The soft silk fell into a pool at her feet. Dousia and Justin left Winton Abbey three hours later in a well appointed closed carriage drawn by a team of six. They had not been gone ten minutes when Dousia asked Justin, who was seated across from her, “You seem exceptionally quiet, my lord husband, is there anything amiss?" He smiled at her. “No, nothing a-tall." “Then why are you sitting all the way over there?" “Because, my dear, if I sit beside you, we will end up making love in this carriage and I'm far too old for that kind of cramped discomfort." She laughed softly. Her eyes sparkled, “You sound as though you've done that once or twice.” Dousia rose and stepped across the carriage, only to have a sudden bump throw her straight into Justin's lap. “Darling." “You minx!” he murmured, just before he kissed her deeply. “Now, behave!” he told her as he gently lifted her from his lap and sat her, down on the velvet seat, beside him. “Behave? Behave, how?” she countered mischievously. “Sweetheart, if you keep looking at me like that, you will be so mussed when we arrive at Lytton Hall that everyone will know what we've been doing,” he warned. She laughed. “How would that be any different from everyone at Winton Abbey knowing? We weren't exactly discreet, chasing Maggie away like that." Justin smiled wryly. “I probably shouldn't have done that. Do you regret it, my love?" “Regret?” Dousia asked. “No, Justin. I don't regret a minute of it. None of our friends are likely to spread the tale." “Would you mind if they did?" “Why should I mind that people know that my husband loves me?" **** Caro and Jon finally got rid of the rest of the guests. The Blythes were most obliging to invite Elinor to come back with William and them to Blythe Manor. Alone, at last, Jon whispered in her ear, “Let's go to bed." They were almost to the stairs when a man appeared at the front door. Jon's butler, Forbes, answered the

door. “I ‘ave ter speak with ‘is grace,” the man, one of Jon's tenants, a man named Ward, insisted loudly. “It would be better not to disturb him." The man only repeated his previous statement much more loudly. “Yer Grace,” he called loudly when he saw Jon's form at the foot of the stairs, “please yer grace. It's ‘orrible. Yer gotta come." Jon muttered an imprecation under his breath, before he turned to face the intruder. “What is it, Wade?" “Sorry ter interrupt ya, yer grace,” the man said strongly. “Yer gotta come. Baker's cottage has done fallen in. Baker and ‘is family is inside. Plum ‘orrible ‘tis." “Yes, of course. I'll be right there.” Jon looked at Caroline. “I'll be back when I can." “Do what you must,” she replied. “I'll be here when you return."

Chapter Twelve The coach containing Justin and Dousia had been on the road for nearly an hour and a half when it rolled to a sudden halt while they were on a meandering road inside a small wood, two miles away from the nearest farmhouse. The road turned to the right just ahead. Justin looked out the window to see what appeared to be a tree fallen across the road right at the beginning of the turn. Not fallen, cut, he corrected himself. The outrider and coachman had already gotten down to try to move it. “What is it, Justin?" “I hope that I am wrong, Dousia dear. However, it would appear that we are going to be robbed." “In broad daylight?" “Apparently. Dammit. I hate this." “Are we going to sit here and take it?" “What do you have in mind, sweetheart?” Justin asked with a smile as he withdrew a pair of deadly looking pistols from a compartment under the seat. “These are all that I have to defend us with. The coachman and the outrider are armed, of course. But, I don't want to risk your getting in the way of a stray ball." She reached for the wooden box containing her dueling pistols, which she had always carried when she traveled. “I can handle myself. These are loaded. I have more balls and powder, by the way." “Sweetheart, remind me to tell you how much I love you when we get out of this situation." “Tell me?” she replied impishly. “Words, are cheap, my love. I'm going to insist that you show me." Justin laughed. “Remind me to keep you on my side, my lady. I would hate to have you as an enemy." Dousia smiled. “Keep that in mind, my lord husband. But, know that the feeling is quite mutual,” she said as she cocked one of the pistols. Hoof beats sounded from ahead. Dousia peered out to see three men, whose faces were hidden partially by handkerchiefs tied just under their eyes, who were riding towards them. Another man was on foot, standing with a gun pointed at the outrider's head. She was a decent enough shot, but at this distance she wasn't sure that she would be able to hit her target, instead of the outrider. Her blood chilled as she realized the identity of the man who was holding the gun on the outrider. Edward! This was not a robbery. Quickly, she retreated back into the coach and told Justin what see had seen. Just

then the sound of two pistols firing, one right after another, was heard. “I love you. Know that!” Justin told her. “I do. We will walk away from this, Justin.” She only hoped that her voice was stronger than she felt. Four against two, assuming that the shots meant that the coachman and outrider were down. There was a sound coming from the front of the coach. The horses were being taken out of harness. One of the men came to the door of the coach and opened it. The coach was high enough off of the ground that only the man's meaty chest, brawny shoulders, thick neck, and balding head were visible. A fat hand extended well into the coach held a pistol. “Out with ye, milord,” he said disdainfully, not observing the pistols they held. Dousia kicked the man's wrist, causing the pistol to drop out of his hand. Acting while he was still surprised, she jumped to her feet and kicked him, hard, across the bridge of his nose, sending him slumping backwards, unconscious. Justin pulled the door shut with a resounding clang. Justin looked at his wife with approval as he checked the pistol that the man had been using. “Come out of the coach,” Edward ordered strongly. A shot rang out. The ball tore through the carriage walls and whizzed past Justin's head. “I can wait all day, if need be,” Edward asserted firmly. “You can wait in hell,” Justin called back. Someone was climbing onto the roof of the carriage. The man flipped open the small communicating door on the top of the roof. He pointed the pistol into the carriage. Justin had already taken aim at the little door when he heard it being opened. Without a second's hesitation, upon seeing the pistol barrel, Justin fired. There was a thud as the man fell from the carriage. “Bloody ‘ell!” came an exclamation from outside. “'e's dead." “Theodousia, this is between you and me,” Edward said. “Come out of the carriage and I'll let your uncle and brother live. Stay there, and you will all die." Dousia and Justin exchanged glances. The fact that the curtains were closed was a double edged sword. It meant that Edward and his bunch could not see the Rivington newlyweds, but it also meant that neither Dousia nor Justin had any idea of where their assailants were. A pistol fired and the ball came through the floor of the carriage, at an angle, striking Justin in the left shoulder. Simultaneously with hearing her husband moan, she fired one of her pistols at the place where the shot had come from. Justin had screamed only once. Through the holes in the floor of the carriage, Dousia could tell that she had wounded the man who had shot Justin. How badly she had wounded him, she did not know. If the man's screams were any indication, it was fairly bad, but not fatal. “How bad are you?” Dousia asked. “I'll worry about it later,” Justin said. “At this moment, my love, I am sorry that I didn't let you go after that bastard when Will was poisoned." A rider approached the carriage and rode around to stop on the far side of the carriage. Just as Dousia moved to look out, the carriage door opened. Edward stood there, a pistol in each hand. He fired at Dousia only to have the pistol in his hand burst as he did so, killing him in the explosion, and sending shrapnel throughout the carriage. Tiny bits of hot metal cut into her, but she didn't notice, there was so much adrenaline in her system that she would have had to have been practically dead to feel the pain.

“You're injured,” Justin said in a pain filled voice. “I'll think about it later.” Quickly, she reloaded the pistols. Justin tried to stand. “I've got to go get the horses,” he told her. “You're in no shape to be trying to do anything of the sort,” she chided. “Stay here." Numerous hoof beats came closer, riding fast. The sound of shots had carried far. The mere number of the shots had roused attention. The horses were reigned in. “Christ!” one man said. “Hello in the coach,” another said. Dousia looked out; the four men out there were dressed in work clothes. They were riding plow horses. Dousia climbed out of the carriage. “I am the Countess of Lytton, niece to the Duke of Winton. My husband, the Earl, has been shot by the same men who have run off our horses and killed our coachman, and outrider,” Dousia told them quietly. “Can you help me find and rehitch the horses? I have to find a doctor for my husband." The horses were relatively easy to locate and bring back to the coach. It was decided that the best thing to do was to return to Winton Abbey. One of the men volunteered to drive them back. In order to allow Dousia to tend to her husband's, and the one surviving highwayman's, wounds. They pulled into Winton Abbey at twenty five minutes after nine. Jon was alone in his study, drinking brandy in the hopes of getting thoroughly foxed, and feeling sorry for himself. If it hadn't been for the disaster earlier today, he would have probably spent the remainder of the day in bed with his wife. But as it was, this was his wedding night and his bride had retired to her chamber early with a headache. Forbes knocked. “Your grace, please come. There has been some trouble. The Earl of Lytton has been shot." “Oh God...” Jon said as he rose from his chair and bolted for the door. Several footmen were out at the carriage. Justin insisted on walking in, only to collapse once inside. The other man, the scoundrel who had shot Justin, was carried in by three footmen and laid down on some sheets that had been arranged on the marble entryway floor. “What happened?” Jon insisted. Dousia looked up from where she was kneeling by her husband. “Forbes, go fetch Eva and summon a surgeon. The ball is still in his lordship." “Dousia...” Uncle Jon urged. “We were ambushed. Edward, and a group of three others. That one there,” motioning her head to the man on the floor, “is the only one yet alive. And I doubt that he will survive much longer." “You're hurt,” Jon said. “It's nothing. I'm worried about Justin. Even though I've tried to stop the bleeding, he's lost a good deal of blood." Justin opened his eyes. “I won't make you a widow,” he said faintly as he tried to move his arm. The pain rendered him unconscious once more. The other man moaned. Dousia went over to him. “Who was responsible for this? Who hired you?"

“Edward...” the man said quietly. “Lady ... wanted ... son's ... marriage ... ended.” Then he wheezed and died. Jon straightened and headed for the stairs. Dousia ran after him. “Don't do it, Uncle Jon. I've always known that Justin's mother didn't like me, but don't compound this situation by doing her harm. Please. This is going to be hard enough on Justin without everyone knowing that his mother nearly had him killed. Think about everything, before you do anything, please." Jon looked at his niece. Reluctantly, he agreed that she was correct. The situation had to be handled delicately or it would be the scandal of the century. Eva came through from the kitchen where she had been having a comfortable coze with Francois, the chef. “ You ... and you ... and you ... carefully, let's get his lordship upstairs to a bed. Quietly." Around midnight, Dousia came back downstairs. She felt in dire need of a drink. So she went into Jon's study and poured herself a brandy. “Drinking alone is a terrible habit for a lady to get into,” Jon warned from the shadows. “How's Justin?" “He'll be fine. The ball did no irreparable damage. He'll have a new scar. But, he'll live." “Thank God!" “Amen!" “The Crawford's have all the luck about wedding nights, don't we?" Dousia downed the last of her brandy. “I suppose so." Lady Caroline awoke very late that next morning. So late in fact that she missed church. She rang for her maid. No one came. She rang again. No one came. Finally, she got out of bed and washed in cold water and dressed herself. A buffet luncheon was laid in the family dining room, but there wasn't a fresh pot of tea. She rang. A servant appeared, saw her, and turned to leave. Caro went into the kitchen to get her own tea. Every servant in the kitchen acted as though Caro was invisible to them. Insulted and aggrieved, she went in search of her husband. But Jon was nowhere to be found. Finally, she returned to the family dining room to have her breakfast. When she had finished eating, she went into Jon's study in order to retrieve a novel from the shelves. The Duchess of Winton was shocked to find her daughter-in-law sitting in a chair, reading. “What are you doing here?" Dousia looked up at her mother-in-law, “Justin and I were ambushed last evening and nearly killed." Caro's face went white. “Where is my son?" “Upstairs, resting. Please do not disturb him. He was rather badly injured. I suppose that we should be grateful for that. Six people died." If Caro's face had been pale before, it was white as freshly fallen snow, now. “Will he live?" Dousia nodded. “You will excuse me. I am rather exhausted myself. I sat up with Justin all night." “Of course..." Caro tried at various times during the day to see her son. But, in every case, she was denied access to his room on the grounds that his lordship was asleep. Finally, she went to her room and stayed there. The way

that the servants were treating her was insupportable. She would have something to say to Jon about this, if he ever showed his face. It was nearly four p.m. when a knock came at her door. She was informed that her son wished to see her, immediately. Caro followed the maidservant to Justin's room and entered without knocking, closing the door behind her. Inside the room, waiting for her, were Justin, in bed, Dousia, sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to the door, and Jon, standing there beside Justin's sickbed. Justin saw his mother. “Come in." “My poor boy,” Caro said in a heartsick tone. Dousia refused to look at her mother-in-law. Jon gave his wife a look of pure hatred. “Caroline. How could you have done this?" Caro shrank, visibly, under the scathing tone of Jon's question. “After all these years, I thought that I knew you. I thought that you were a good, upstanding, woman. But you are nothing but a scheming, manipulative...” Jon broke off his statement, thrusting some papers at her. “What is this?” she asked. “Read it!" “Annulment papers?” Caro said in disbelief as she sank to a chair behind her. “Mother,” Justin said, “there is a carriage waiting to take you to the ship on which you will be taken to Scotland. You will be residing at the Dumferline house. You will be allowed no visitors and no outgoing letters that have not been read and approved prior to being sent. The servants will be paid by me. You will have no money at your disposal." “You are all condemning me without a hearing,” Caro charged. “Should you not stay there, you should know that sufficient evidence has been gathered in order to charge you with conspiracy to kidnap, conspiracy to commit murder, and several other charges. It would be better all around if you take your exile graciously,” Justin said, sorrow in his voice. “None of us want to see you hang from a silk rope, Mother." “All I wanted was to keep you safe, Justin,” Caro said, fighting back the tears. “I was so scared that she would kill you, the way that she has killed so many other men. Her first lover, her father, the man who killed her father ... God, Justin, you are all that I have left. I didn't wish to lose you, too!" “Goodbye, Mother!” Justin said, his voice full of pity. “Have a safe journey." “Jon, please don't do this to me. I love you!” Caro begged. He shook his head negatively. “You don't know what the word means, Caro,” he told her flatly. Then he called for the footmen. “Escort the dowager down to her carriage." Justin sank wearily back into the pillows. “I'm sorry, Jon." Jon shook his head. “I was in love with a woman who didn't exist outside of my mind. I guess that there is no fool like an old fool." Dousia walked around the bed and hugged her uncle. “The Crawfords are survivors, Uncle. It takes more than a broken heart to lay any of us low."

Epilogue Jon, Will, Tony, and Justin paced along the floor of the Blue Salon at Lytton Hall. If they kept up that degree of nervous activity, soon there would be a hole worn in the carpet. “I'm too old for this nursery business,” Jon complained. “I understand how you feel,” Justin replied. Will looked up at Justin, worried. “You don't think that there is anything wrong?" Justin smiled down at his brother-in-law. “No, Will. There is probably nothing wrong." “Why did she have to have a baby, anyway?” Will asked almost angrily. Justin knelt down beside the boy. “Will, when a man and a woman love each other very much, children are a natural result." “I know how babies are made,” Will responded sharply. “Dousia told me all about it. Sounds awful to me. Who wants to get that close to a girl, anyway ... ick...” the small boy added disdainfully. It was all that Justin could do not to laugh. The other men in the room had the same trouble. “I'll remind you of your opinion in about ten years, young Will,” Justin replied with a smile. “Now, I happen to know that cook has some extra-special treats ready for you in the kitchen. Why don't you go see what she has prepared for you?" The boy's eyes lit up. “You'll call me when the baby is born?" “What the devil is taking so long,” Justin asked rhetorically after Will left for the kitchen. “Breeding is a strange business,” Jon stated mostly to himself. “I'm going up to check on her." “That is all women's work. She has Eva with her and the doctor and Maggie. That's enough,” Tony told him. “I am going up,” Justin said resolutely. But he had no more opened the door of the salon than Eva was standing there. “Well?” Justin said abruptly. “You have a beautiful son,” she said with a smile. “And his mother, Eva?” Justin asked with real fear in his voice. Eva smiled at Justin. “She's beautiful, too,” she said teasingly. Justin walked into the bedroom where his wife and infant son lay. The boy was suckling noisily upon his mother's breast. Dousia smiled up at Justin. “Come and meet your son, the Honorable Jonathan Justin George Rivington." Little Johnny turned his head away from his mother. He started crying. “Pick him up and hold him, Justin. Get to know your son." “I don't know anything about babies."

“Sit down beside me, please,” Dousia said as she picked up her son. “You hold him like this,” she said as the small red and wrinkled figure in her arms stopped crying. Then she placed the boy in his father's arms. “He won't break,” she said amusedly. Dousia looked upon the sight of her husband holding their newborn son. There was no more lovely sight in all the world. ~The End~ To learn about other books Awe-Struck publishes, go to the Awe-Struck E-Books website www.awe-struck.net/

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