Contents

The Baron's Betrothal

Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1 In which an irresistible force meets an immovable object.
Chapter 2 In which our hero makes a somewhat triumphal return.
Chapter 3 In which there are partridges and pranks.
Chapter 4 In which our hero is no longer the lord of a ring.
Chapter 5 In which other hopes are dashed.
Chapter 6 In which the baron is bared.
Chapter 7 In which our hero and heroine become better acquainted with their diff
erences.
Chapter 8 In which the impasse continues with one minor development.
Chapter 9 In which the beast awakes.
Chapter 10 In which our heroine stops our hero's heart with three little words.
Chapter 11 In which our heroine is enchanted by a giant in a castle.
Chapter 12 In which everything that could go pear-shaped does.
Chapter 13 In which the lady doesn't vanish.
Chapter 14 In which our hero has a persistent problem on his hands.
Chapter 15 In which a journey of a thousand leagues ends with one misstep.
Chapter 16 In which hell hath no Fury (because she's in Mayfair).
Chapter 17 In which our heroine is determined to help our hero, poor Clun.
Chapter 18 In which the mysteries of Man are elucidated.
Chapter 19 In which universal truths of Society become self-evident.
Chapter 20 In which a minx lets the cat out of the bag.
Chapter 21 In which our hero is afflicted with popularity.
Chapter 22 In which our heroine meets the Fury.
Chapter 23 In which the Fury disapproves of our heroine, giving our hero at leas
t

that satisfaction.
Chapter 24 In which hero and heroine have quite a night at the opera.
Chapter 25 In which a dancing bear becomes all the rage.
Chapter 26 In which our hero is not yet jilted.
Chapter 27 In which the Fury transubstantiates into a loose cannon.
Chapter 28 In which our heroine seeks blood from a turnip.
Chapter 29 In which our hero and heroine meet as if by chance.
Chapter 30 In which doubts assail our heroine while a grubs prayers are answered.
Chapter 31 In which all hell breaks loose.
Chapter 32 In which our heroine has a wary Merry Christmas.
Chapter 33 In which our hero misses our heroine.
Chapter 34 In which our heroine hesitates for once in her life.
Chapter 35 In which our hero tracks his betrothed to the last place on earth he
expected to find her.
Chapter 36 In which the cats play while the mice are away.
Epilogue: April, 1817
Next
Historical Notes and Corrections for Curious Readers
About the Author
Acknowledgements
From His Lordship s Last Wager
Notes

The Barons Betrothal

An On-Again, Off-Again, On-Again Regency Romance

Book Two in the Horsemen of the Apocalypse Series

By
Miranda Davis

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are produ
cts of the authors overactive imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to
be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations,
or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Aspen Street Press, RJP, LLC

P.O. Box 1321
Espanola, NM 87532

Copyright 2013 M. D. Hansen

Cover photo 2012 M. D. Hansen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, shared or reproduced in a
ny manner whatsoever without the authors written permission, except in the case o
f brief quotations properly referenced and used within the context of critical a
rticles and reviews.

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me.

-W.H. Auden1

Chapter 1
In which an irresistible force meets an immovable object.

Shropshire, England
October 1816

She strode from the shadowy depths of the stable and gave William Tyler de Sayre
, Baron Clun, a bold, calculating look. Actually, each sized the other up thorou
ghly. Lord Clun glared at the young woman before him. She was fetching in a wild
-eyed, windblown, lunatic sort of way, the sort of way he found appealing, given
his bodys unambiguous approbation. Her own direct green glare crackled over him.
She was tall for a woman, though her head reached no higher than his nose. Her
figure, stuffed in what appeared to be a tight, long sack with sleeves, was trim
but lush, not wispy or liable to break in his embrace. She stood before him, ar
ms akimbo, Diana the Huntress or perhaps Aphrodite.
Clun purred.

* * *

Lady Elizabeth Damogan, only child of George Damogan, the second Earl of Morefie
ld, examined her potential savior. She noted with satisfaction that his enormous
size alone would suffice to serve her purpose. He wore expensive boots, well-ma
de clothes and a decent greatcoat. From the neck up, however, he had a wild, ber
serker-like look about him and an even wilder mane of black hair that badly need
ed a trim. But he would do. She looked at him again. Better than do. He had a fe
rocious scowl, which he was employing to no effect. She was determined to regain
her valuables and she required his help.
Perhaps she ought to warn the gentleman what she intended. Then again, Elizabeth
concluded, he was just a temporary henchman. He need only stand by while she re
trieved what the robbers took earlier that afternoon. Given his intimidating pre
sence, physical violence seemed most unlikely.
She heard a low rumble from the craggy, hair-strewn summit of the mountain stand
ing before her. She fixed him with a stern look. Are you a gentleman, sir?
His black brows shot up and his fathomless black eyes blinked. At times.
Would you help a lady in distress?
That would depend. His eyes glinted in a way that shouldve given the distressed lad
y pause, if only shed taken the time to consider.
Not very chivalrous of you to quibble, sir, she said. It will be nothing for you to
help. I require very little. If youll accompany me for moral support I can sort
out a misunderstanding with a few men in the tavern. She took a step back and to

the side to regard him from that angle. Youre an immense man, arent you? You neednt
say a thing to help me. In fact, I must insist you dont.
Im not he began.
Off we go, then, she said. She hooked her hand through the crook of his thick arm
and, when she tried to give it a reassuring squeeze, could not help her little Oo
h! She chose to ignore his chuckle as she spun him on his feet and remarked, Magni
ficent mount.

* * *

During her inquisition, Clun held the reins of his favorite horse, a large gray
with sculpted head and well-muscled chest.2 Clun draped the reins over a stall b
oard knowing Algernon would remain there until he returned. He had ridden at a l
eisurely pace this last leg of his journey. Still, he wanted his horse tended, f
ed and watered.
Where is the ostler, Miss?
No time for that now, good sir, come along. Just inside the tavern, if you please
. She pulled him, to the degree she could exert influence on his great mass witho
ut his whole-hearted cooperation. Must you dawdle? Come along.
They entered The Sundew, a coaching inn where Clun hoped to have a pint of ale a
nd a hot meal on his way to The Graces, his residence of choice among the de Say
re estates in the Welsh Marches. He ducked through the tavern door behind the ha
rridan and allowed himself to be tugged to a table where four unkempt ruffians s
at laughing and drinking.
Gentlemen, she began, Return my money and jewelry this instant.
Dont know what youre jawin bout woman. The weasel-faced spokesman for the group dismis
sed her until he saw Clun loom up behind her. The baron enjoyed the mans nervous
laughter. They all cast anxious sidelong looks at him.
Well they should.
I refer to my money, my gold locket and a pair of pearl earrings, she said succinc
tly. One of those earrings apparently dangled from the closest mans earlobe. She
snatched it from his ear with a swift yank.
The hapless thief screeched and clapped a hand to the side of his head.
Thats one. Wheres the other? My brother, she flicked a nonchalant hand over her shou
lder at Clun, is not a patient man. Return whats mine, if you please. She thrust ou
t a hand and held it palm up in front of the man with the bleeding earlobe. He g
lanced at Clun again and reluctantly pulled the matching earring from his greasy
waistcoat pocket. This she tweaked from his dirty fingers.
Now, miss, Weasel Face wheedled, his eyes shifting as if to calculate their odds, Y
our big brother wont relish a tussle wi alla us over a few fripperies.

Oh no?
Clun cleared his throat and crossed his muscular arms over a chest half again as
wide as any of the seated thugs. Other patrons left nearby tables to gawk from
a safe distance.
The thieves werent local, Clun concluded. Neither they nor the Valkyrie realized
what the scampering patrons and nervous innkeeper did: the lord of the manor, th
e very devil himself, Lord Clun stood before them larger than life or rather, ev
ery bit as large as life.
Despite Cluns long absence, everyone in the neighborhood of The Graces recognized
him immediately. Moreover, they had long celebrated him as one of the Four Hors
emen of the Apocalypse. Newspaper reports of the cavalrymens deadly battlefield e
xploits had penetrated Clun Forest, according to letters he received overseas fr
om his steward, Tyler Rodwell. As a consequence, local men boasted of him as one
of their own and mothers threatened naughty children with punishment by his han
d when he returned from war. In short, the baron was firmly established in neigh
borhood lore.
Suddenly appearing as if in a puff of brimstone to intimidate brigands on a ladys
behalf would only burnish his fearsome reputation once witnesses dispersed to s
hare the news of his homecoming.
Everyone in the tavern fell silent and awaited the mayhem.
My locket, if you please, the Amazon demanded with her hand beneath Weasel Faces cr
ooked nose. In a moment of inspiration, she extemporized, For years, my brother h
as put Frenchmen to the sword, so I wouldnt give him an excuse to practice his sk
ills on you lot.
Clun admired the females commitment to her fictions. Not that she was much mistak
en. Shocked patrons whispered to one another the baron had no sister that they k
new of, only the one, bastard brother. Clun turned his head slowly. His incendia
ry glance hushed all discussion.
Meanwhile, the locket and chain appeared and was dropped into the hellions outstr
etched hand.
My purse and money. Now! She barked and slapped the table, making the thieves jump
in their seats. Each pulled coins from his pockets and Weasel Face produced her
empty reticule and deposited his cut. She held it out to collect the rest. Afte
r weighing it in her hand, she nodded, never taking her gem-hard green eyes off
the men. From the diminutive purse she withdrew a few pence and threw them onto
the table.
Have a round with our compliments, gentlemen, she said and added pertly, but remain
seated until were on our way. Or youll regret it. My brother will hunt you down a
nd pull your arms from their sockets one by one.
With that, she turned and stalked out of the room. Clun remained a moment longer
, staring as if to commit them to memory. He fixed Weasel Face with his special
to-the-depths-of-Hades glare. Then he strode after her. Once outside, his stomac
h growled.
Just my damned luck.
Clun had been looking forward to eating there all day. The hoyden capered at his
side as they walked to the stable. The baron was hungry, tired and in no mood f

or her dancing jubilations.

She patted his back and tugged on his sleeve to claim his attention. You were mag
nificent, sir. How may I thank you?
Who are you? Who were they? And what in blazes was that he stomped to a stop and f
lung out a hand toward the inn, that farce about?
She dismissed his question with a shrug and said, Its a long story. Very tiresome.
Well, I will know the whole of it, Clun roared at her.
She stilled and frowned at him.
You are altogether too curious to be a proper henchman, she sniffed.
Recall, I didnt volunteer, he growled, I was conscripted. And I have every right to
know where were going next as Im now persona non grata at The Sundew. I was hoping
to tuck into their steak and kidney pie tonight.
Oh, I can feed you a decent venison stew, she said and looked him over again, thoug
h I may not have enough. Come, bring
Algernon. Clun took up the horses reins and followed her out of the stable. She led
him along a path through a hedge into a field he recognized in the fading light
. They walked single file toward his Shropshire estates southern border.
Algernon. Thats an old name. Derives from Norman French, she said, Aux Gernons, I be
lieve means with mustache.
He examined her at his leisure. She wore an odd homespun shift of some sort that
fit quite snugly, with sleeves well above her wrists and a hem exposing a begri
med petticoat, trim ankles and incongruously fine, silk stockings with clocks. H
er imperious manner and cultivated speech trumped her jumbled costume. She was a
lady, albeit a passing strange one.
Where are we going? He asked her back. The view of her derrire swaying with each st
ep improved somewhat his foul mood.
To a cottage on the estate just over there, she said over her shoulder.
Which estate?
Baron Cluns estate, I live there.
Do you?
Yes, I just said I did, she replied and muttered, Must large men be so mutton-heade
d?
He let her jibe pass.
Youre not one of his tenants, are you?
With his luck, shed be prancing and swaying in the neighborhood while he was obli
gated to wed an earls bracket-faced, ham hock-ankled daughter. For the first time
in more than a year since his betrothal, the baron felt a twinge of regret for
having arranged to marry a female hed never laid eyes on.
Do you work on the estate? He assumed she was his half-brother Tyler Rodwells curre

nt ladylove. Women always made fools of themselves over the mans buccaneer smile
and blue eyes.
No, I dont work on the estate.
Why do you live there, if I may ask?
She turned to walk backward and explained, Its a long story.
He arched an eyebrow. She swept a thick lock of hair from her face and turned to
give him her back.
Well, in a nutshell, Im in seclusion for a while. Thats all, she said over her shoul
der while hiking away from him.
Why?
That is none of your business, sir, she replied with regal asperity.
Minx.
For how long?
Until I reach my majority, I suppose.
And that will be
When Im one-and-twenty, of course! She muttered to herself about the obtuseness of
great, lumbering lummoxes, much to the barons amusement.
And when will that be?
Not long. Im twenty years old.
Youll live here on your own for almost a twelve-month?

* * *

The mans smirk irked Elizabeth.

Ill manage. Hunt game. Barter at the market. She was shocked how easily the lies tr
ipped off her tongue. Still, if she did have to stay that long, she would find a
way. She was nothing if not resourceful.
Youre hiding in one of Lord Cluns cottages and poaching his game for pin money?
Its not poaching, really.
Oh no?
Surely, its not poaching if Im betrothed to Lord Clun.

Betrothed to, he said, stumbling to a standstill as his horse bumped his back, Clun?
Elizabeth kept walking even though her temporary henchman no longer followed at
her heels.
My father, the Earl of Morefield, arranged it with him. Ive never met the baron, m
ind you. The marriage settlements been finalized for ages. Well, since last year
or so. Wed just received word Lord Clun planned to carry me off next month. Disgu
sting, isnt it?
She finally looked over her shoulder to find empty space where a lumbering lummo
x should have been. She spun to find him gaping at her, dumbfounded.
Its shocking, I agree, she cried. Ive been bartered away like a prize heifer with no
regard for my wishes. None. I had to run away and hide until Im safely one-and-tw
enty or Im released from this ludicrous arrangement.
And then? the dark-eyed giant asked as he walked slowly to join her.
I shall do as I wish. When I reach my majority, I inherit an independence from my
mother. Nothing so lavish as my dowry but then my dowry wouldve never been mine,
would it? The inheritance will afford me self-sufficiency.
And what of Clun?
Hell have to find himself another prize heifer if he wants an heir and a spare. It
neednt be me.
And if he wants you?
How could he possibly want me in particular? Weve never met. Never danced. Never s
o much as exchanged a how-do-you-do.
You objected to the betrothal?
Well, no, I didnt, but only because it was too preposterous to take seriously. The
earl told me about it, swore me to secrecy and then nothing happened. More than
a year passed and we heard nothing more from the baron. So, I assumed it came t
o naught and my father hadnt mentioned it, for fear Id become emotional. As if Id c
are a jot a spangle if I didnt marry a man Id never clapped eyes on.
No, of course not, he said in a bland tone, not a whit or a fig. And now?
To insist that I marry him after all this time would be peevish, dont you think? W
e live in an enlightened age, after all. What gentleman with all his faculties w
ould take a bride sight unseen?
Perhaps Lord Clun is old fashioned.
Thats not old fashioned, sir, thats medieval. Lord Clun would have to be a hoary, d
esiccated old
Now, now. How could you possibly know what he is or isnt? Said the man walking behi
nd her.
Well, I do know that if he werent completely awful, thered be any number of young l
adies eager to be his baroness, she retorted and felt badly when she saw him flin
ch at her blunt assessment. Outspokenness was one of her besetting sins.
Perhaps he knew Lord Clun, she reproached herself. But then if he did, it was ba

d manners not to say so. Besides, the whole business was infamous. She refused t
o feel too badly for the ancient baron or his nosy acquaintance.

* * *

If he werent completely awful, shed said. Unfortunately, the chit had a point. Altho
ugh he towered over every female except this one, Clun knew his size was the lea
st off-putting of his attributes. His reputation and demeanor had proved inconve
nient while prowling the Marriage Mart soon after returning from the continent.
Granted, Clun never made much of an effort. Hed grown disgusted quickly.
Was it his fault he had heavy black brows and a propensity to glower from under
them? Or to issue monosyllabic responses to silly chatter? Or to dress with mono
chromatic austerity, as his valet reproached him? Well, yes, most of it was. But
it was certainly not his fault that his supposed ferocity had became firmly fixed
in the minds of querulous Society debutantes.
Thanks to hyperbolic newspaper tales about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,
men respected him, virginal women feared him and even experienced women treated
him with trepidation. Put simply, he was too big, too dark and too daunting. In
bed play, merry widows wanted to be teased and seduced, not overpowered, plunder
ed and practically left for dead. Not that he would do that. He took great pains
to be a generous lover. Still, only a female with considerable intestinal forti
tude could overlook the former attributes to discover the latter.
In any event, another Horseman of the Apocalypse, his well-informed friend, the
Hon. George Percy,3 had suggested the Earl of Morefield might consider an arrang
ed match for his daughter, given it was three years since her come-out and the e
lderly earl wanted her settled. Thus, Cluns betrothal to Lady Elizabeth Damogan w
as contracted sensibly, with a minimum of fuss and bother, between two rational
men of sound character and ample means.
After finalizing the betrothal, he heard nary a squeak of protest from that quar
ter. So he assumed either Lady Elizabeth accepted her fathers arrangements stoica
lly or had no notion who he was.
Ah well, it could never be that simple for a de Sayre, could it?
And what if the baron is a beast? Clun asked his betrothed finally.
Why must I be the virgin sacrifice?
Clun burst out laughing, much to her chagrin. He threw his head back, leaned int
o his horse and let his deep chuckle rumble up like lava from a fault in the ear
ths crust. Her disgruntled look sent him into higher-pitched howls of laughter. T
he baron eventually wiped his streaming eyes and calmed himself enough to say, Pe
rhaps Lord Clun isnt decrepit, merely a sensitive soul who fears rejection of his
suit.
Which would make him a spineless coward! Is he man or mush? The more we talk of h
im, the less I like the baron, she concluded and marched off in the direction of
an old cottage on the edge of his home wood.

Arent you afraid of being recognized and handed over to the hoary, old baron? Clun
called out after her.
Not at all. No one knows me here. Ive only ever lived in London and Devonshire, an
d visited Bath a few times. Ive never set eyes on the baron, or he me. Whats more,
he isnt expected back here for some time. He planned to collect me in London, wh
ere it so happens I am not. And this, she said, spreading her arms wide, is the ve
ry last place on earth my father would ever think to look for me, dont you think?
She crossed her arms over her chest with a self-satisfied smirk that Clun wanted
to kiss off her lips.
Obviously, youve thought of everything, he said. Poor Lord Clun.
Lord Clun followed his runaway fiance through the woods that stood along his esta
tes southeastern border to a small, thatched cottage near a stream that flowed th
rough the property. Autumn wildflowers dotted the open space around the cottage.
A well-worn hard-packed dirt path led to its low, arched front door.
Wonderful, isnt it? So charming. She faced him. Im afraid well have to eat tepid stew.
Ive run out of firewood.
Theres a pile there. Clun indicated a heap of logs nearby. A large, flat stump had
a weathered axe stuck in it and scars from countless axe falls. Few split pieces
remained stacked nearby.
Theyre much too big.
Would you like me to chop you some firewood?
Yes, please. She gave him a dazzling smile and disappeared inside the cottage. He
let Algernon graze.
When she came out again, Clun removed his greatcoat and redingote and handed the
m to her. Before unbuttoning his waistcoat, he removed his thick, gold signet ri
ng and tucked it into the watch pocket for safekeeping. His smallest finger felt
too light, liberated from its weight.
May I have my stew piping hot?
You may, she said and sashayed to a crude bench to drape his coats over it and sit
down. He shrugged out of his waistcoat. When he looked around, he noticed her w
atching him. Rapt. He liked the way she stared. He tossed the waistcoat on the p
ile of logs and went to work.

* * *

It was utterly improper.

Elizabeth knew dining with this man would give the earl and all of Society spasm
s if ever they heard of it. Being alone with a strange man, much less sharing a
meal without benefit of chaperone, guaranteed scandal. There would be dire reper

cussions, if they were anywhere near the watchful eyes of the ton. But this wasnt
London. One neednt put too fine a point on social niceties in a wilderness. Besi
des, this man rendered an invaluable service, a service moreover, which might ha
ve endangered him, so Elizabeth quickly determined that here, in the western rea
ch of England hard by the wilds of Wales, she could safely ignore the nit-picky
strictures of Polite Society.
Nit-pickiness aside, she knew full well that she ought not to watch any man undr
ess, even if it only involved outer layers. She simply could not pass up the opp
ortunity to see more of this particular man.
As he rolled up his linen shirtsleeves, she fixed on his thick, well-muscled for
earms. He hefted the large axe effortlessly in big hands. He braced long, strong
legs and bent down to snatch up a log. Standing it on the stump, he swung the a
xe in a smooth, blurred arc, splitting the wood in one stroke. His shoulders bul
ged and tensed with efficient movement. He split log after log. The pile of fire
wood grew, as did Elizabeths agitation.
I dont see why I should marry some decrepit old aristocrat, she picked up where shed
left off. Id rather marry someone who can do, uh, useful things. She couldnt take h
er eyes from him, as he swung and struck the logs with a mastery that heated her
fair skin from head to toe.
Aristocrats can do useful things, he argued. (Thunk!)
Not the ones I know, she sighed. Except my father.
Why assume Lord Clun is decrepit? (Thunk!) For all you know, hes a man chock full of
practical skills of which youd approve. (Thunk!)
Elizabeth harrumphed. Her henchman-cum-woodsman had the cultivated speech of a g
entleman, although he spoke in a deep, melodic voice sweetened with Welsh. He su
btly rolled the hard rs and caressed and trs of English. It was nothing like the S
cottish brogue of Mr. MacAvoy, her fathers man of business, or the Irishmen shed h
eard in London. Each time he purred LoRrd Clun, she shivered.
She could listen to him all day, even when he glanced at her over his shoulder a
nd rumbled, Its hard not to conclude that Lord Clun has the poorer part of the bar
gain!
Is that so?
What practical skills do you offer, my lady? Needlepoint-pillow making? Watercolo
r painting? Flower arranging? Menu planning? Singing? (Thunk!) He snorted as he s
truck another log apart with a solid blow.
I cant carry a note, she admitted. But I have managed an earls household for years. I
can cook, bake and milk a cow, along with numerous other, more typical feminine
accomplishments.
Is that so?
Is that so hard to believe? Oh, never mind, theres enough to warm our meal. She got
up, strode over to him and touched his back low at his waist. He stilled. She c
ould warm her hands on the heat he gave off. And the scent of the man! Fresh air
, leather and muscular male effort, with a top note of horse, she sighed. Just a
s a practical gentleman ought to smell. She plucked up half a dozen good-sized p
ieces of wood and carried her armload away without trouble. She was capable, too
, she wanted to prove for some inexplicable reason.

A little while later, she returned and sat down again behind her hero to watch h
is body twist, heave and move as he worked. Now, she noticed dreamily, his damp
shirt lay pasted to his body, across broad shoulders and wide back, narrowing to
his waist and trim hips. His hard buttocks were sculpted like a Roman athletes.
Oh, she thought, here was a man.
She was enchanted. Until, that is, he opened his mouth and ruined everything.
Yes indeed, I pity the baron. (Thunk!) He picked up a log and pointed it at her fo
r emphasis. Even a doddering, old man deserves some peace and consideration in hi
s dotage. He stood it on end and swung the axe. (Thunk!) No doubt you will drive h
im to an early grave.
I will not.
Oh no? If the barons as old as you say, he wont survive the trouble. And you, my la
dy, are nothing but. (Thunk!) He glanced at her over his shoulder and said, I supp
ose, you can pray that hell expire on your wedding night, and leave you untouched
, widowed and wealthy. Best of all worlds.
You, sir, have an inappropriate sense of humor.
Do I? He mocked. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off, Yes, you just told me I
do.
I will not be the death of him, she said with starchy dignity, because I shall spar
e him the fatal vexation of me entirely. I shant marry him.
The man stopped chopping and leaned an elbow on the axe handle on the stump. Thou
gh youre well intentioned, somehow I cant imagine hell escape his fate. And Id wager
your father is anxious to be rid of you, too.
Youre probably right, she snapped. But youre cruel to point it out. I vow I wont go ba
ck to the earl unless he ends this farcical betrothal and promises not to attemp
t such a travesty again on my behalf. He thinks that I need a strong hand to gui
de me. Hes often said he regrets having been lax. Lax. His parenting never involv
ed indulgence, just benign neglect. And having let me do as I wish for two decad
es, it seems a mean trick to impose discipline by marrying me off to some relic
from another age.
Perhaps.
Who knows if the old baron is even up to the task of managing me! You say Ill give
him fatal spasms.
Only if the drink doesnt kill him first, Clun quipped.
Hes aa tippler? She asked.
More than tipples, if memory serves. A bottomless cask. Mouth like a funnel on on
e end and a wee spigot at the other, he concluded with a wink.
Ignoring his wink, she quickly resumed her train of thought. How could an elderly
souse be a proper husband for me? What was the earl thinking? No. If I marry at
all, I will marry a strong, practical man who does not drink to excess.
A woodsman perhaps, he teased. Wouldnt you miss your comforts, my lady? Hot water ma
gically appearing in your room for your bath and disappearing again just as magi
cally when its cooled.

I am content to bathe in the stream and do so often. She was only too happy to lea
ve him flabbergasted, or scandalized, or whatever it was that left his eyes bulg
ing and his firm, kissable lips loose as a carps.
Served him right, she sniffed.

* * *

Clun could only stare agape at her in the autumn twilight. His mouth went dry. S
he flippantly mentioned bathing in the nearby stream and he blanked for an insta
nt. First, came to mind his recollection as a young man of taking a brief dip la
te in the year. His frozen balls had retracted somewhere far inside his lower bo
dy and refused to descend for a full day. Next flashed a series of heated, pleas
antly stirring imaginings: the glowing colors of her creamy skin touched with bl
ushes all over, her long chestnut hair fanning out around her sirens face, her ro
sy nipples gathered tight as buds in the chill water. He forcibly recalled himse
lf to his senses. Much as he feared, her proximity, the wood chopping and the ba
thing-siren fantasy registered below. He took up a large log and held it before
him.
To distract her, he teased: You would have me believe youll bathe in a frigid stre
am and kill your own meat through the winter?
Ill have you know that Im a dead shot. The venison in the stew, thats mine.
You mean Lord Cluns.
Well, if you want to be a stickler. But I shot it.
Im impressed. And he was. Lady Elizabeth was nothing if not surprising. And stimula
ting.
I just realized weve not been introduced. I am Lady Elizabeth Damogan. She pronounc
ed her last name with care, slightly exaggerating the second syllable, da-MUG-en. T
hose who have only read the name mistakenly say DAM-o-gan, which I cannot abide.
And youre too polite to correct their pronunciation? Im astonished.
Of course, he knew her name. He was about to marry the chit. Should he instruct
her to pronounce de Sayre4 in some ridiculous way, perhaps dee SAY or funnier stil
l de-SIRE?
Im William TylerThat is, well, Tyler. He bowed elegantly to cover his hesitation. Cl
un wasnt sure what his intentions were at the moment, only that he wished to have
a bit of fun with Lady Elizabeth da-MUG-en.

Chapter 2

In which our hero makes a somewhat triumphal return.

After supping with his feral bride-to-be, Clun rode on to his country house. Tho
ugh he wasnt expected for weeks, it gratified him to see the grounds and building
s of The Graces well tended.
In the previous century, his great grandfather had commissioned James Albright t
o design the place. It took twelve years to complete its construction. He mightve
been finished sooner if it hadnt become a labor of love for Albright as much as
his patron. No graceful flourish, exotic wood or subtle carved intricacy was spa
red or begrudged.
Client and architect became so enamored with The Graces, as it came to be known,
their wives conceived a jealous disgust of the place. Mrs. Albright ran off wit
h a barrister (and proved de Sayre marital dissatisfaction was communicable). Th
ereafter, this tradition of alienated affection carried down through subsequent
generations of de Sayres, finding the Ladies Clun stewing in the cold, stone cas
tle ten miles away in Wales whilst the Lords Clun luxuriated as often as possibl
e in solitary, sunlit splendor at The Graces.
Albrights design culminated in a soaring four-storey gatehouse. Clun paused befor
e this Triumphal Entry, as popular guidebooks called it. The entry featured a 35-f
oot tall archway crowned by a peaked pediment that echoed the main building beyo
nd. The main hall was a vast, imposing Palladian structure boasting numerous, di
vided light windows5. It stood along the western side of an enclosed, rectangula
r courtyard with short, symmetrical wings north and south. The entry enclosed th
e courtyards eastern side.
With dusk dimming to night, the beige stone building glowed welcome to the weary
baron. Its flanking wings embraced him like arms. The scent of loamy, fresh-tur
ned earth tickled his nose and told him the courtyard garden was ready for winte
r. The chill, humid air made him glad of his many-caped greatcoat.
He took one last look at the surrounding countryside before he urged Algernon fo
rward.
While The Graces had been under construction, Lancelot Capability Brown transforme
d the surrounding rain-soaked, Shropshire hills and dales into a captivating lan
dscape. All that Mother Nature seemed to bestow on this parcel of heaven-on-eart
h was in fact placed at Mr. Browns direction by an army of local laborers. Even t
he large serpentine lake that fed from, and contributed to, the estates little st
ream was mostly manmade.
Although situated in remote southwestern Shropshire, The Graces drew gentry on h
oliday tours seeking breathtaking views. Unlike the Lake District, which was ove
rrun with visitors enjoying its famously picturesque landscape, this less-travel
ed treasure tucked away in Clun Forest beguiled those who sought it out because
they had the luxury of imagining they alone beheld its glory, they alone disturb
ed its tranquility.
Anyone applying to the housekeeper Mrs. Wirt was given a tour and a voluble disc
ourse on the absent warrior baron, who was one of the famed Four Horsemen of the
Apocalypse.
Poor little Boney, shed say in a tone freighted with false pity for the petite impe
rialist. He cannot last with my Lord Clun at his throat and thats all Ill say about

that.
Clun had no idea hed won the war almost single-handedly. He was merely a man long
away now come home with domestic matters on his mind.
He loved The Graces as the barons before him had and couldnt help wondering if, b
y chance, Lady Elizabeth would deviate from the norm and like it. Or perhaps not
hate it. Though it shouldnt have mattered to him, it did. For even if she didnt f
ind him amiable, his property might charm her sufficiently to stay. Either way,
hed see the answer in her expression when first she beheld it.
From the courtyard, Clun saw that all the windows were dark. Holland covers prob
ably draped the furniture above stairs. In their masters absence, the army of ser
vants staffing The Graces maintained the whole, but theyd be found in work areas
and the kitchen on the ground floor at the rear of the main hall.
Once he made his presence known, the staff would spring into action. The efficie
nt Mrs. Wirt would see that chambermaids aired, dusted and cleaned all the bedro
oms starting with his own tonight. By tomorrow morning, the houses furniture woul
d all be unveiled. Under her exacting eye, parlormaids would freshen the drawing
rooms on the first floor while Penfold the head butler would cast a critical ey
e over the under butler and all the footmens livery. The head gardener would see
that his men made the propertys grounds spruce and supplied the house with cut fl
owers from the conservatory. And the head groom would have the stable in perfect
order by nightfall.
Although Clun wasnt expected for a month, hed grown restless in Bath witnessing th
e first of the Horsemen, his friend Jeremy Maubrey, the tenth Duke of Ainsworth,
descend into the madness also known as falling in love. Not that Clun could blame
him. The baron approved of the little apothecary who captured the dukes heart an
d made a hash of his brains.
If one had to fall in love, Prudence Haversham would do; however, one did not ha
ve to fall in love to marry. Indeed, Clun had no intention of doing so. Not on a
bet.
For umpteen generations, de Sayres married out of practical dynastic considerati
ons and managed to muddle through yet another generation. Row upon row of portra
its captured centuries of barons and their sullen-looking spouses. These husband
s and wives kept the barony flourishing with a minimum of fuss and few scandals,
however disgruntled they felt while doing so. Only one lord before him had marr
ied for love and Clun knew all too well how that ended.
Romantic love, as bruited about ad nauseam, was a myth perpetrated by unidentifi
ed female novelists and nincompoops. Unrealistic romantical expectations inevita
bly led to disappointment, bitterness and irreconcilable marital strife. One nee
d only consider his parents marriage to know the truth of this.
Accordingly, Clun concluded that a sound, peaceable marriage required mutual hon
or, respect and wifely obedience. He wanted a sound marriage free of nincompoope
ry so he selected a spouse as his forebears had, based on rational consideration
s alone.
The baron had remained in Bath only long enough to attend the dukes nuptials and
wedding breakfast. Thus the first of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse was dul
y married in coincidental, but appropriate, grandeur at the local parish church,
the Abbey Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul in Bath.
Serving as groomsmen with Lord Clun, had been Mr. George Percy, second son of Vi
scount Rutgers and Lord Burton Seelye, second son of the Marquis of Exmoor.6 Lar

ge as they were, standing ramrod straight near the altar, they were dwarfed by t
he 75-foot tall stone pillars holding up the spider web-like fan vaulted ceiling
high overhead. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows to illuminate th
e bride as she marched in business-like fashion down the nave on the arm of her
assistant Mr. Murphy. The groom, God help him, grinned as if he had a vacant sku
ll to let. And in that happy stupor, His Grace was properly, perpetually leg sha
ckled to his apothecary before God, man and one beast, his huge dog, Attila.
After the Most Reverend Whomever had concluded the ceremony, the three Horsemen
and three other members of the Royal Horse Guards Blue in dress uniforms paired
off, drew swords and held them aloft to form a razor-sharp bower under which the
happy couple fled.
They showered everyone with guineas flung into the air. Then, the dukes carriage
carried the newlyweds to Morford Street for a festive breakfast with the couples
intimate friends. At this breakfast, the groom continued to make an idiot of him
self, subjecting his bride to shameless displays of affection (holding her hand
and kissing her repeatedly). Percy showed admirable tolerance while Seelye narra
ted the scene with unrepeatable wit that entertained Clun till his sides ached.
Afterward, the baron finally surrendered himself to duty. It was past time to su
ccumb to matrimony, given hed already allowed his betrothal to ripen for more tha
n a twelve-month. He sent word to the Earl of Morefield and set off immediately
for Shropshire to prepare The Graces for its new mistress.
And at The Sundew, hed accidentally met her.
Naturally, his lordship mistrusted his good fortune. She wasnt bracket-faced, ham
hock-ankled or even intimidated by him. She had pluck. Whats more, her misgiving
s about their betrothal indicated a certain amount of good sense. On the other h
and, shed bolted from London in a foolhardy, if not dangerously heedless, fashion
to hide from him. So he might be forgiven his ambivalent first impression of he
r.
Clun rode through the inner courtyard to a smaller archway in the south wing tha
t let out to the stable. There a boy too young to know the lord of the manor sca
mpered up to admire his huge horse. The lord of the manor recognized the boy, or
more precisely, he recognized the unmistakable family resemblance of another de
Sayre male. The black-haired lad was a strapping youth of nine or ten years of
age, Clun guessed. He mightve been his, given Cluns youthful enthusiasm for local
girls and vice versa, but the stripling hadnt had striking blue eyes.
Just to be sure, he asked, Are you old enough to manage this brute?
Im going on eight, my lord. And strong enough.
Ah, Clun thought in relief, not of my making, but Rodwells.
One of the grooms came to the horses head and greeted his lordship.
Though big for your age, you ought to let Jenks assist you, Clun said with a wink
to the groom. Whats your name, lad?
Ted, my lord. The boy bowed solemnly to him and Clun acknowledged it with a nod.
Do you know your letters, Ted?
Papas teaching me when he has the time.
Thats well. Algernon cant spell to save his life so he must rely on your good offic

es.
Ted smiled up at the baron, not quite sure if he jested, and added shyly, Even so
, hes a handsome horse, if I may say.
You may and Algernon thanks you. See to him with Jenks, will you? Clun tousled Teds
hair and strode off in search of his steward and half-brother, Tyler Rodwell.
Much as Clun looked forward to sleeping in his
abeth Damogan dashing about the woods, playing
weasel-faced lowlifes lurking in the shadows.
s fiance to anyone else tonight. Seeing to it

own bed, he couldnt with Lady Eliz

gypsy with who knows what sort of
Nor would he delegate guarding hi
himself would put his mind at ease.

Clun didnt bother to make the long trip back to the front door. He walked to the
back entrance on the ground floor, just as he had so many times as a young man.
He let himself into the vestibule first and then through the inner kitchen door
and stood watching Cook. She was a great pudding of a woman with graying blonde
flyaway hair barely captured by an off-kilter mobcap. She gestured with a spoon
to underscore some point she was making to Rodwell, who sat at the big worktable
in the middle of the room, sipping tea in a mug. Rodwell stood up and bowed. Co
ok glanced out of the corner of her eye and froze when she saw the baron. The ma
ids skidded to a halt and footmen leapt to their feet.
Clun smiled at one and all, a blanket pardon and reassurance.
The maids curtseyed and resumed their work; the footmen bowed and found work to
busy themselves. Penfold and Mrs. Wirt, wringing her hands, bustled in and begge
d pardon for their dereliction. They would have had the entire staff lined up ou
tside the front door to greet the baron properly the instant he returned, if not
for their inattention.
Pray, dont trouble yourselves. I came on the sly, Clun said. Just to sneak up on you
.
The butler and housekeeper relaxed at his playful teasing and they excused thems
elves to oversee the flurry of activity his sudden appearance prompted.
The kitchen emptied of everyone but Clun, Cook and Rodwell.
Can it be? Look, Roddy, our wee Master William is home at last! Oh dear! Beg pard
on, she dipped a curtsey as he approached. Welcome home, your lordship! Then rising
on tiptoe, she grappled the large man into her far shorter, fleshier embrace an
d rocked him to and fro.
I must breathe, Cook. Truly. Or Ill collapse.
Her head rested just at his chest, Nonsense. You look fagged out and in need of t
his. She clasped him in one last crushing hug that squeezed a boyish grin from hi
m. There now!
Cook had known and loved Clun from earliest childhood. Even after he grew into h
ulking manhood, she continued to treat him as if he were a small boy, indulging
and chiding as she saw fit. Cook, and only Cook, dared do so.
She held him at arms length and took in his
shirt, open waistcoat, rumpled redingote and
e praised! What took so long, my lord? Looks
today, but you finished him off last year at

spattered boots, sweat-stained linen

greatcoat. Back in one piece, Lord b
as if you just mopped up old Boney
least.

Clun snorted. Like Mrs. Wirt, Cook spoke of his lordship as if her wee Master Wil

liam had single-handedly brought Napoleon Bonaparte to his knees. Her confidence
in his ability, conveyed at her insistence in each of Roddys letters, had amused
the other Horsemen of the Apocalypse no end. And while Clun may have grimaced at
her effusions, he loved her all the more for them. He received scant acknowledg
ement from either parent. His mothers few letters were full of reproach for endan
gering the direct de Sayre line with his antics.
Where have you been? Cook narrowed her eyes and scanned him again. At hard labor fr
om the looks of it.
Why not? Arent I full of surprises? He pulled his sweaty hair from his brow.
Always were. She beamed at the big man seating himself at the table. Roddy, doesnt o
ur baron look fine?
Ive been riding for days, Cook. I look a mess, he said and gestured for Roddy to si
t again. Roddy, how are you?
Quite well, my lord. Thank you for asking. Tyler Rodwell was not quite so large as
the current baron, and his eyes were vivid blue. Otherwise, Clun and his bastar
d half-brother closely resembled their father, William Tyler Powys de Sayre, the
late Baron Clun.
Roddy told us youd be home next month with bride in hand. What a treat to have you
sooner! Cook clasped her hands before her ample bosom and smiled. Where is she th
en?
Unusual girl, Cook. An earls daughter.
Im not at all surprised. Who could resist you? Cook said with a conviction that mad
e both men snigger like schoolboys. Clun blushed, too, a sensation almost wholly
unfamiliar except in the company of his childhood ally and buttress, Cook.
Will you and your baroness live at The Graces, my lord? Roddy asked.
Havent worked out the details. In fact, theres a minor issue I would discuss with y
ou now, Roddy.
You must be hungry. Shall I warm you something to eat? Cook asked.
Clun had eaten his fill at the cottage with his betrothed but rather than disapp
oint Cook, he said, If it wouldnt be too much trouble. Well only be a moment.
Cook banged pots and pans onto the stove and stoked the fire within, whistling m
errily as she flew back and forth gathering the makings of a hot meal.
The two men left the ground floor kitchen through a passageway to the servants st
aircase that led up to the double-height main hallway and after walking a distan
ce entered the first floor bookroom. From a tinderbox on the mantle, Roddy took
a flint and steel to light the coal with kindling in the hearth. He used a punk
to light beeswax tapers around the room. In the bright, flickering candlelight,
touches of gold leaf on the leather bindings of books glowed, the polished brass
banisters around the balcony shone.
Clun sighed with pleasure. Nothing was shrouded; no maids scurried to and fro do
ing last-minute cleaning. Mrs. Wirt had kept this room dusted and in perfect ord
er year after year, as if the baron might return any minute from war and want to
sit at his desk. She knew his library was, beside his bed, his favorite place o
n earth.

Its sixteen-foot ceiling notwithstanding, this room had a warmth and intimacy Cl
un loved. The rest of the saloons on the first floor felt more like grand concou
rses meant for crowds of strangers. This was his lair, his private sanctuary.
Roddy sat in a comfortable chair before the wide desk; Clun sat behind it, feeli
ng the smooth leather inlay and the silken surface of well-polished wood. The st
eward waited for the baron to speak.
I stopped in at The Sundew, Clun began. You didnt by any chance hear of a female in
the vacant cottage near there, by the home wood?
Just this week, I heard rumors of someone thereabouts and was going to check on i
t, Roddy said.
It happens to be true, but I wont have her disturbed. Even if you catch her red-ha
nded with a fourteen-point stag, you mustnt detain her for poaching. Or run her o
ff.
No?
No, shes harmless. Merely having an adventure before settling down. Clun rubbed his
cheek stubble, unsure how to explain what he must. With me.
Shes your Roddy said, eyes wide.
So it would seem. Lady Elizabeth Damogan, the earls daughter. Clun shifted uncomfor
tably in the chair and in a sepulchral tone added, My betrothed.
As you wish, my lord.
Im concerned for her safety, Clun said.
Not to worry. Folks give her a wide berth. They say shesThat is, I thought, wellNo m
atter. Congratulations.
What did you think, Roddy?
The steward looked across the desks expanse at the baron and glanced away. Not for
me to say, my lord.
I wont be angry, hardly know her myself.
I thought perhaps she was, Roddy tapped his temple, touched. They say she sings and
dances like a fairy around the cowsAn earls daughter, you say.
So I did. Roddys elliptical comments amused Clun. They also confirmed his impressio
n. Lady Elizabeth Damogan made a strong if strange first impression. Touched, you
say. Wouldnt she have to be to marry me?
Now that wont do, your lordship. The stewards tone slipped momentarily into that of
a scolding older brother. The ladys damned fortunate. Youre a good man. You do your
duty. You know what youre about.
I appreciate your confidence. And Ill need your discretion. Id rather no one else k
nows we arent quite married yet.
Of course. Will you wed in London or at the castle?
Here, quickly and quietly, under the circumstances. No need to disturb the barone
ss, is there? The half-brothers referred to Cluns mother as the baroness. Among his

friends in the cavalry, Clun habitually called her the Fury.7

Has she met your lady yet? Roddy asked.
She has not, nor will she, until after the lady is my baroness and shes the dowage
r.
Think that wise?
I think it imperative. Cant have the chit cry off because of her, can I?
Whos to say she would? Perhaps theyll rub along.
No, theres not a chance on Gods green earth of that, Roddy. And if it ever comes to
blows, Id lay odds on my lady. Shes the ferocious type, no doubt of it. Clun chuck
led, remembering how four men jumped when his green-eyed Amazon had slammed her
hand down on their table and demanded back her baubles and coin.

* * *

At that very moment, the Amazon in question was confronting the sobering reality
of her circumstances.
Elizabeth had arrived more than a fortnight ago after a dreadful journey by mail
coach. Despite her brave words to Mr. Tyler, she used money not mother wit to s
upply most of her needs so far. She traipsed back and forth to the village of Cl
un southwest of the estate for supplies almost daily.
She had, in truth, shot a deer; however, she hadnt meant to. She borrowed one pisto
l from a boxed set of two Mantons in her fathers study before she fled, intending
it only for self-defense. The day after she arrived, she went outside to practic
e with it. (A sensible plan.) It was surprisingly heavy in the muzzle and cumber
some to hold. (She dropped it.) It discharged and she survived unscathed. (Thank
Heaven.) The doe hiding in the woods nearby did not. Elizabeth didnt realize thi
s until the mortally-wounded animal broke from the bramble in a final panic and
ran a few yards toward her before collapsing.
That irksome Mr. Tyler was right, she couldnt kill her own meat intentionally. Th
e accident had shaken her resolve to stay, but she plucked up her courage and ma
de a practical decision to see that the does death wasnt all for naught. She haste
ned to the village butcher and sold him the carcass for half a haunch and credit
for game birds and beef, redeemable at a later date. The butcher agreed. All co
nceit aside, it was clever of her.
Free meat and fowl notwithstanding, if she hadnt wrested back what remained of he
r money from the villains, shed have been hard pressed to go on. She already spen
t nearly all her money, save coach fare back to London, when Mr. Tyler came alon
g. It was no exaggeration to say he was her hero. That is, until he revealed him
self to be arrogant and dismissive of her abilities. After that, he put her teet
h on edge.
Even with her funds restored, she couldnt remain in hiding for a month, much less

most of a year. She would never sell the baroque pearl earrings her father gave
her on her twentieth birthday, nor could she part with her mothers locket. Ever.
No doubt, her father had already hired Bow Street runners to find her. Theyd have
little trouble determining her route from London. She was an unusually tall, yo
ung lady traveling alone, which simply was not done, so her movements would have
been particularly noteworthy. (Hence the wisdom of a sidearm.)
Then again, she dressed like a charwoman to be ignored, so it was conceivable no
one noticed a gawky, overgrown servant seeking to squeeze into the hot, close c
onfines of a mail coach headed to Shropshire.
No, she concluded, her father could afford the best runners. They would see thro
ugh her ruse. Even now, they had to be on her trail, questioning innkeepers en r
oute to determine her ultimate destination. Though out of the way, Clun village
was on the map. Clun Forest was well enough known. Sightings in the village woul
d be the final clue. She relished the thought of her fathers additional mortifica
tion upon learning she hid right under the barons brandy-blighted nose.
The runners were taking longer than she anticipated. Of course, she could always
send news of her whereabouts to her dear friend Constance Traviston and ask tha
t she, or her mother Lady Petra, reveal it to the earl out of concern. First, she
wanted her father to appreciate how upset she was and to regret his unilateral d
ecision. He must recant, or do whatever ones parent did, to render the infamous b
etrothal formally null and void.
If she became truly desperate, she could present her bedraggled self to old Lord
Clun and cry off in person. Word around the village indicated he was expected s
oon though no one spoke at length to her about anything, much less his lordship.
If possible, she hoped to avoid doing violence to the elderly lords sensibilitie
s, but one could only bake scones and filch cows milk for so long.
She decided on the spot to redeem a chickens worth of her credit with the butcher
. This helped her look forward to the coming day.
Much as she resented Mr. Tylers mocking tone, he hit a nerve when mentioning the
delights of a hot bath. Elizabeth hadnt felt clean since leaving London. For two
days and a night she sat pressed up against the great unwashed, feeling nauseous
inside a cramped, bouncing, swaying mail coach.
The chilly, that is to say frigid, water in the stream was extremely unpleasant
for bathing. So she resorted to heating water in a cracked crockery bowl on the
hearth and swabbing down the parts that most needed it with an old mobcap. It wa
s just awful.
In the absence of soap, she felt herself ripening like a wheel of Stilton cheese
.
Shed left all her pretty gowns and most of her unmentionables behind in London to
travel light. Her clothing now consisted entirely of a slightly tatty kerseymer
e pelisse, her warmest woolen shawl and two simple, dark homespun shifts she plu
cked from a trunk of theatrical costumes stowed in the unused ballroom. If shed a
spired to play one of the witches in Macbeth, she wouldve looked the part. Indeed
, the odd frocks mightve been made for the purpose. She did pack several of her o
wn chemises (she hated drawers), three pairs of silk stockings and two fine flan
nel petticoats with hems in simple cutwork because she refused to go entirely ru
stic during her rustication.
On the morning she ran away, shed made her way to the kitchen, where she helped h
erself to a maids mobcap (now wash rag and all-purpose market bag) and a long, he

avy linen apron to complete her servants costume. Before striking out, she realiz
ed no servant wore immaculate lilac kid gloves so she took them off and tucked t
hem away. She did wear stays tied as well as she could manage because she wouldve
otherwise felt scandalous going about completely unbound. Then she gritted her
teeth, covered her head with the mobcap and muffled her bare hands within the sh
awl before she slipped away.
Shed counted on the fact that a servant scuttling through Mayfair streets early i
n the morning hardly mattered. No one would notice her flagging a hackney cab or
eavesdrop on her telling the Jarvey she must run an errand for the lady of the
house. She made no attempt at an accent, hoping her refined speech, like breadcr
umbs, would help the runners trace her flight.
In Shropshire, Elizabeth disliked the witchs weeds she wore, but reveled in her f
reedom from low bodices and short stays. No matter that they ended at her ribs,
they pinched whenever she took a deep breath or wanted to laugh aloud.8 Whats mor
e, she couldnt hope to lace them up properly by herself. She also grew accustomed
to going about without gloves. There was too much to do that they impeded. One
couldnt possibly grasp a cows teat and produce a stream of milk without ruining on
es suede gloves. (Although having seen the calluses on the village dairymans hands
, cows might appreciate gloves on him at milking time.) In any event, the villag
e women only wore gloves on Sundays. So she kept the pair she brought neatly fol
ded in her portmanteau.
The cottage, with its thatched roof, was quaint in its way, but the thatch shelt
ered numerous small rodents that were full of frisk at night. The sound of tiny,
skitter-y mouse feet forever dampened Elizabeths initial transports of joy over
her charming abode. Mice kept her vigilant most of each night.
But be that as it may, she would never admit any sort of discomfort to a smug bu
mpkin like Mr. Tyler. If she were to meet him again before being whisked back to
civilization, he would still find her happy as a lark in spring.
Please, she prayed, please let the runners find her soon.

* * *

The baron crept as near as he dared to the little thatched cottage. The waning m
oon offered paltry light by which to find his way and a dry twig snapped underfo
ot. He froze, hunkered down and held his breath. She had a gun after all. Fortun
ately, no one stirred. Hard to believe she could sleep soundly on her paltry str
aw bed.
He sniggered to himself.
At dinner, hed noticed her rough pallet in the corner. He knew he shouldnt let his
betrothed sleep on a pile of musty straw for long. The problem was that he coul
dnt make her more comfortable without revealing himself and he had no intention o
f doing that. Not just yet.
Settling against an ancient yew trees thick, interwoven trunk, he withdrew both p
istols from his greatcoat pockets and laid them carefully on either side of his

hips. Though tired, he made certain he was too uncomfortable to fall asleep. Lad
y Elizabeth would rest safe tonight.
At dawn, Clun crept away to return to The Graces, where he spent most of the day
with Roddy reviewing the estates ledgers and discussing plans for the spring pla
nting and livestock. Late in the afternoon, Clun shaved again and took himself o
ff to the cottage.

Chapter 3
In which there are partridges and pranks.

As Elizabeth went about preparing her evening meal, she whistled and sang off ke
y to herself. Earlier that day, her good friend the butcher had given her two pl
ump, plucked partridges. She mashed dried black currants shed found, slipped some
under the skin and spread the rest over the birds before skewering them on a sp
it to roast over the fire. All the while, she thought about the annoying strange
r who came to her aid yesterday.
Mr. Tyler was handsome. Strong. Charming when not infuriating. And blessedly tal
l.
Height was something of which Elizabeth was painfully aware. Though not the tall
est woman in the ton, she only missed that misfortune by an inch or so.
Elizabeths petite friend, Constance, envied her height and told her she had willow
y grace. The salesmen at Grafton House in New Bond Street adored her height. Then
again, drapers so enjoyed charging the earl for the yardage it took to dress he
r in true Indian muslin or to enshroud her in diaphanous layers of silk in the G
recian style. For an exorbitant fee, Londons most exclusive dressmakers came to N
o. 1 Damogan Square and fashioned elongated riding habits and morning, walking,
carriage, dinner and evening dresses for her. The last, with their demure puff s
leeves and low-cut bodices accentuated her swans neck and ample bust, or so the m
odistes swore. Those gowns made her feel particularly weedy and over exposed.
Men did not help matters either.
Elizabeth was tall enough to look most of them square in the eye. Her frank, lev
el gaze unsettled them almost as much as it displeased her. At balls, she dislik
ed reaching across or down to place her hand on a mans shoulder while waltzing.
Those not discouraged by her stature, especially short, shameless men, openly en
joyed having her dcolletage at eye level. They addressed their bon mots happily t
o her bodice in conversation. Transfixed by her twin, mute mounds, her partners a
ttention rarely strayed up to her mouth, which could make reply but was usually
fixed in a tight not-quite-smile. And their gazes never ventured further northwa
rd to her chignon-topped polar region where the glacial glint in her green eyes
wouldve frozen them solid.
Elizabeth had suffered through her first Season with few men of acceptable statu
re. Due to unfortunate circumstances, her second Season was postponed a year unt
il the spring of 1815. And after the war ended in June, strapping officers began

to filter back to England from the continent just in time to lift her mood. And
her sightline.
The earl warned Elizabeth repeatedly against attractive, ineligible military men
determined to cozen her heart and marry her fortune. Too many second and third so
ns of nobility returned from war only to ruin themselves in gaming hells. This m
eant the chances of a desperate bachelor compromising her to claim her dowry gre
w exponentially. Elizabeth shrugged off his concern, confident that she could di
scourage undesirables. Evidently, her father did not share her confidence and to
ok matters into his own hands.
With the sudden surfeit of tall, dashing Ineligibles in Society, Elizabeth had j
ust begun to enjoy the Seasons last entertainments when the exasperated earl disc
reetly negotiated her betrothal to the Right Honorable Baron Clun.
For her further protection, the earl insisted that the ton and in particular, ra
scals neck deep in the River Tick learn of her betrothal only after shed married
and the Times had published the announcement. Lord Clun agreed to this. The baro
n also agreed without demur to the customary yearlong betrothal, during which sh
e was expected to come to terms with her future and prepare herself for it.
While Elizabeth understood the earls motives, she had detested his methods. She w
anted a groom of her own choosing. (That Society was populated by leering, bug-e
yed midgets during the war wasnt her fault, was it?) But in accordance with her f
athers wishes, and because she couldnt quite believe it would come to pass, she ag
reed only to speak of her betrothal to Constance and Lady Petra, on whose discre
tion she could rely.
For some time after the earl had divulged the absurd arrangement, Elizabeths marr
iage remained an improbability. Lord Clun never came to call and she never compl
ained. (Why beg for trouble?) Moreover, she never laid eyes on him at Vauxhall,
the opera, or any subsequent private function, so she concluded he was too elder
ly or fat to make the effort. She remained complacent until without warning the
earl told her, in effect, that she would be wed and packed off to Shropshire as
the barons legal chattel at months end.
Naturally, she fled.
Now, she lay on a foraged hay pallet each night, a grubby, fermenting runaway li
stening to the squeaks and faint scribble-scrabble of mice till dawn.
The earl shouldve trusted her. She knew how to manage men of the ton. The less th
an civilized specimen she encountered the previous evening, on the other hand, w
as attractive beyond her wildest imaginings and utterly ineligible. Mr. Tyler st
ood over her, grinned down at her, and the breadth of him surrounded her. He lef
t her feeling somehow incandescent9 in a way she couldnt explain. Still, he would
not do.
Try as she might to steer her mind back on the road to rectitude, she couldnt sto
p thinking in the direction of a deep ditch.
Just then, the Utterly Ineligible himself strode into the clearing near the cott
age, as if her wayward thoughts conjured him from the gloaming mists. He wore a
snowy white linen shirt, an open greatcoat and snug buckskin breeches tucked int
o unadorned boots. No frock coat only a plain waistcoat, she noticed. His undres
s was scandalous even for a farmer; still, she was glad to see more of the man a
nd less of the trappings that might have disguised him.
Stare she must and did till she looked way unnerved.

Something amiss, Lady Elizabeth? Mr. Tyler asked as he bowed to her. When he stood
before her, she tilted her head up to allow a moment of eye contact. She did so
enjoy the prospect of him. His heavy black brows suited his direct, jet gaze. H
e had a strong, straightforward nose, a masterful jaw, chiseled into angles with
a hint of cleft in his chin that tempted her to explore its contour. His hair,
though combed, was too long to be comme il faut. She dropped her gaze lower. His
bulls neck sported a simply tied cravat.
For the first time ever, a man made her feel delicate. At last, she smiled.
Lady Elizabeth, you look Rrrather bemused, he rumbled sensuously.
That I am, Mr. Tyler. Again, she smiled up at him. That I am.

* * *

Heaven help him, her smile dazed him like a blow to the head. Who was this demur
e lady and what in damnation did she do with yesterdays she-devil?
Did your robbers bother you last night, my lady? Clun asked, knowing full well tha
t if they had, hed have shot two out of hand.
They wouldnt dare come on the barons land. And today, his men were clearing brush j
ust beyond here. So, alls well, Mr. Tyler. Thank you.
Ive been thinking on your predicament.
Predicament?
That of an unwanted marriage, he explained.
Have you?
I just said I have. He leaned very close to tease, Are all females such goose caps?
You were saying, Lady Elizabeth ground out.
Clun clasped his hands behind his back and walked a slow circle around his lady.
I think it best you return to London at once and tell your father you want nothi
ng to do with the hoary, old baron.
Do you? She replied, her head turning to follow him first to the right then from t
he left until he stood before her once more. And why is this your concern?
How can you marry me if youre betrothed to him? He said this within inches of her l
ush lips as they formed a surprised little o.
M-Marry me? She stuttered. The earl would n-never countenance it, I fear.
Is that so? He grinned down at her, enjoying her discomposure.
Until I reach my majority, I may only marry with his consent, she said, her cheeks

aflame.
And if I could convince him of my worthiness?
She hesitated.
The devil in him wanted to know if she would take him plain, not that he sought
a love match. Still, he did hope she felt some degree of compatibility or perhap
s even a physical inclination similar to his own for her.
I dont know how you could convince him, Mr. Tyler, she bit her lip. Lord Clun is ric
h and well established.
He liked her regretful tone. So the baron has some attributes you admire.
One must respect his noble lineage and the sound management of his estates, I sup
pose.
So my suit would be hopeless, even if hes a toothless old macaroni?10
No teeth? She cried.
I mightve heard that, Clun replied with a careless shrug. He smiled broadly, displa
ying his own toothy, white grin.
Oh Mr. Tyler, my partridges! Lady Elizabeth cried and rushed into the little cotta
ge. He sauntered to the open doorway. She bent over the hearth holding a spit wi
th two small game birds his game birds, he suspected. The aroma made his mouth w
ater.
Would you care to join me? She asked and swung her thick braid of honey brown hair
out of harms way.
I would, Lady Elizabeth. My thanks, he said, wondering what her hair would look li
ke unbraided. He walked into the room and stood by the table. The barons?
No, I purchased them today in the village. I havent the slightest notion how one g
oes about shooting game birds with a dueling pistol or whether thered be any left
if a bullet struck one. Sit, please. Lets not stand on ceremony.
And the glaze?
Black currants. Theres a thicket not far from here near the stream. I found some d
ried on the bush.
This enterprising female bore no resemblance to the simpering, timid misses he m
et in the Marriage Mart. Here was a woman after his own heart. He watched as she
pried the birds off the spit onto a chipped stoneware plate. She put the plate
down and turned it so the larger bird faced him. He sat after she did.
Let it cool. I have just the one plate and no utensils yet. She smiled shyly again
and his heart seized for a second.
I may have to risk burnt fingers. He leaned to the plate and inhaled.
No! Well distract ourselves until its safe to tuck in. Tell me about growing up her
e. Youre a native, I presume.
Born and raised just over the border in Wales.

I thought yesterday you had the look of a soldier. Did you fight?
Yes. He studied his bird and touched a drumstick to test its heat.
Infantry?
Late of the Household Cavalry, Royal Horse Guards Blue. He gripped a small leg bet
ween thumb and forefinger and twisted it clean off with a hiss.
That explains Algernon. He could be a knights destrier. She dipped a finger into th
e mashed black currants on her bird and licked it. Havent I read about special cav
alrymen? I dont much read newspapers, but what I do recall was dramatic. The Horse
men of the Apocalypse broke the French line or cut a swathe through the enemys infa
ntry or routed the flank and turned the tide of battle. Were they with the Blues? W
as it a special regiment?
Lord, no. Not a regiment, just four of them. And quite informal.
Oh. Who were they?
Hardly matters now, he said.
I suppose youre right. Id be too intimidated to say a word if ever I met them.
Having seen you at The Sundew, Im certain they have more to fear from you than you
from them.
Such daring exploits, if one can believe the reports. They must be very brave men
.
Newspapers exaggerate to sell copies, he scoffed.
Envious, are you?
He snorted, Not in the least, Lady Elizabeth.

* * *

Mr. Tyler put the entire drumstick in his mouth. His lips pursed around it and E
lizabeth imagined the taste and texture of his kiss. That thought alone shouldve
scandalized her, but she was too pleasantly distracted. His lips were firm and f
ull, especially his lower lip. And they looked soft when he wasnt scowling at som
ething she said. He sucked the meat from the bone with his eyes half closed and
she heard a low, deep hum as he savored it. The sound skittered over her skin an
d left her body tingling. He pulled meat from the breast, nibbled at the well-cr
isped skin and licked the tart black currants. She stared, transfixed. The mans u
nvarnished pleasure was so riveting that she failed to notice he balked at discu
ssing his war. She leaned closer to watch him eat.
Your family lives here? She asked somewhat breathlessly.
A half-brother.

Wouldnt London be more exciting for a man whos seen the world?
Ive seen war, Lady Elizabeth, not the world. Though I enjoy London, I had to come
back.
Why?
He popped a final tidbit of meat into his mouth and, much to her growing discomf
ort, refrained from answering until hed chewed, swallowed and licked his lips cle
an. Only then he told her, I am to be married.
Married? She straightened up in her seat. Oh. I see.
Nasty, teasing man.
Is she a local girl?
You might say so, yes, but not originally, he replied, eyes twinkling.
Have you known her a long time?
Long enough to have formed an opinion.
Are you very much in love with her? She asked with a nonsensical, sinking feeling.
Here, he turned serious. No. Not at all.
Tell me you jest!
He licked the grease from his fingers slowly as he stared at her mouth. The way
he stared made her lips dry as dust.
No, I am in earnest, he finally said.
Does your betrothed know how you feel? She demanded.
At this, his eyes took on a dark, devilish glint. If asked the same question, I h
ave no doubt shed say the same. Like yours, ours is an arranged marriage not a lo
ve match. She can hardly expect a man shes met once or twice to be in love with h
er, now can she?
Poor girl. Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. I had not thought such a thing st
ill common and yet here we are the two of us facing the same dreary fate. Unlike
me, you seem quite resigned to yours.
Not resigned, Lady Elizabeth, I welcome it. I believe I will enjoy a more peacefu
l, fruitful union without histrionic romantic expectations to bedevil my wife an
d plague my married life. Perhaps the same is possible with your baron.
Never, sir. Im against the match and ever will be, she declared and muttered to her
self, Not the least because hes a toothless, drunken fop.
So if you had your druthers, you wouldnt marry him even if the two of you might do
well enough together? Mr. Tyler asked quietly.
I shall marry for love or not at all. She stood up to add emphasis.
He stood as well. At least he had manners.

The hour is late Mr. Tyler, I must bid you good evening. Elizabeth dismissed the m
an, embarrassed that she allowed him to turn her head.
Picking up their plate, he walked out the door and tossed the bones far away. He
returned the dish to her and bowed elegantly, I thank you for the feast, my lady
. Ive never tasted better partridge. I must admit Lord Clun would be a lucky man,
if only he could win your favor.
Youre too kind, Mr. Tyler, she said, meaning nothing of the sort. Good night.
He left her with a smile and a wink that made her even more disgusted with him.
She busied herself cleaning their plate with the last of the water shed hauled up
from the stream and went to toss the waste water out the door.
Lady Elizabeth! Mr. Tyler cried, leaping over the splash of water as it hit the gr
ound. He jogged to a stop, his expression greatly alarmed, The baron. Hes coming t
his way. Hurry. Out of sight. He snatched the bucket from her, dropped it and too
k her hand to pull her out the door.
But
No time to explain. Come, he said and crouched down. He glanced this way and that
before taking each step. Being that he held her hand in a vice grip, she had no
choice but to follow suit, bent over nearly in half. She struggled to keep up. H
e dragged her in this crab-like scuttle to the largest, entwined yew tree nearby
and yanked her behind it. He threw an arm across her body to hold her in place.
Having flattened himself and her against the trunk, he hissed, Shhh!
She stood hard against the knotty tree, which stabbed and poked her back. He lea
ned in the other direction to look around the yews bole and snatched his head bac
k. She gasped and he dared shush her again without ceremony.
Lummox.
They waited, stock still, plastered up against the tree until Mr. Tyler peeked a
gain, leaned forward a few more inches and relaxed.
His lordship mustve chosen a different path for his post-prandial walk. That was f
ortunate. You could hardly wish to bump into the old baron when hes out and about
, eh?
Mr. Tyler lowered his restraining arm only after she cleared her throat. Twice.
No, indeed, not in this lifetime, sir. Thank you for the warning.
Your servant, my lady. he said with a bow and raised her hand to his lips for the
merest brush.
She shivered.
I believe its safe to bid you good night. He smiled at her and chuckled.
Thank you, Mr. Tyler. You are very kind.
Not so kind, perhaps, but I will help you whenever I can.

Good as his word, Mr. Tyler warned her of the barons being in the vicinity early
the next morning.
Mr. Tyler appeared first riding at a leisurely pace over the low rise of an over
grown pasture where Elizabeth was calming a cow in order to milk her. The cow ke
pt moving away, forcing her to scramble around to coax the beast to stand still.
When Mr. Tyler caught sight of her, he reined in Algernon, stood up in his stirr
ups to look over the rise some distance then wheeled abruptly to charge straight
down hill at a gallop.
Get down! He ordered and waved an arm wildly at her. On the ground. Now!
The startled cow trotted away, much to Elizabeths chagrin. She shaded her eyes to
look past Mr. Tyler.
Again he called out, The barons out for a ride. Get down. Now!
Elizabeth shrieked and dove face down, tucking her chipped pitcher under her arm
. She could only hope the tall grass and scrub would provide sufficient cover.
Mr. Tylers horse danced in circles and he called out loudly, Good day to you, my l
ord. To her, he growled, Dont move, my lady. He muttered, I say, his lordship cant eve
n be bothered to say hello, eh? A mere wave of his pale, little hand. He tsk-tske
d to himself. Got hands like an albino monkey, Mr. Tyler drawled. Or its his lace fl
apping in the breeze. He reined in Algernon, sat at his ease in the saddle, still
keeping his eyes pinned on some distant point. Elizabeth dared do nothing more
than peek up at him. Mr. Tyler explained under his breath, He favors great spills
of lace at his cuffs. A bit old fashioned, but then, so is he.
Is he gone, Mr. Tyler? She asked, growing cold and itchy where she lay sprawled on
bent stalks and hard ground. The pitcher gouged her armpit, too.
He glanced down and warned, Not quite. He cant trot, canter or gallop, what with h
is chilblains and gout.
Minutes passed while Elizabeth lay face down.
Alls clear. Hes gone, Lady Elizabeth, Mr. Tyler finally said. Must say, youve the Devi
ls own luck to have twice escaped his notice. Id best be off now, he said with a he
arty laugh. Good day! And away he rode at a gallop.

Chapter 4
In which our hero is no longer the lord of a ring.

Still in his shirtsleeves the next morning, Lord Clun almost tore through the li
ning of the watch pocket in the waistcoat hed worn the day he met his betrothed.
As one does when something too dear to lose is lost, he poked two fingers into t
he small pocket over and over, finding nothing the fifth time, just as he found

nothing the very first. Despite his state of undress, he strode down the long ha
ll to the staircase. He clutched the waistcoat in one hand and ran the other dow
n the walnut banister as he descended the stairs to hail the head butler.
Penfold, I need you! He threw on the waistcoat as he paced up and down the first f
loor hallway peering into the various saloons.
Yes, my lord? Penfold said. He blinked at his masters dishabille, but remained othe
rwise unperturbed.
Where is the greatcoat I had on the other day, the dark gray one I wore from Town
?
Ill fetch it directly, my lord, Penfold replied.
Bring it to me in the library, if you will.
Of course, my lord. He hurried as much as a head butler could without compromising
his dignity. Clun stalked into his bookroom and flung himself into his desk cha
ir. Unaware, his fingers stole once again to the empty watch pocket.
Ive lost it. Hell and damnation.
Penfold brought the barons greatcoat to him. He snatched it up and delved into ea
ch deep, flannel lined outer pocket. Nothing. The inside chest pocket perhaps, h
e thought, now feeling panic congeal into a hard clot of despair. Nothing.
Its gone.
The weight of the signet ring alone wouldve announced its presence in the waistco
at where he knew hed tucked it or in the greatcoat where he hoped hed moved it and
forgotten. But no. It was gone. His fathers fathers fathers etc., heavy, gold sign
et ring had somehow slipped from the watch pocket while his betrothed distracted
him with her green eyes and tight frock and God knows what else.
It could have fallen out whilst he chopped her damned wood or ate her damned ste
w or camped out under the damned yew to safeguard her that first night. Or perha
ps it fell out when he rode to and from The Graces in a Damogan-induced mental f
og. It could be anywhere. He might have realized it sooner, if he hadnt been so b
usy pulling pranks on his refractory wife-to-be.
It was his rotten luck to be so easily diverted by the woman. Theyd only just met
and behold the consequence of simple curiosity about her. Part of his legacy, n
early an ounce of Norman gold, lay sunk in the mud somewhere in the acres betwee
n the little cottage and The Graces.
He held out no hope his ring would turn up miraculously if he retraced his steps
; yet retrace them he must, if only to reassure himself that hed done all he coul
d to find it before giving up.
He called for his horse.

* * *

As soon as Elizabeth heard the hoof beats, she dodged into the cottage and peeke
d through a shuttered window, her heart pounding. It wasnt the baron.
She was treated instead to the sight of a bareheaded Mr. Tyler galloping up to t
he cottage and reining in his big, gray horse. He was barely dressed in linen sh
irtsleeves and unbuttoned waistcoat despite the chill in the morning air. He lea
pt down from the saddle, but issued no dire warnings about Lord Clun. She came o
ut of hiding to greet him.
Good morning, he said tersely, as if shed angered him somehow.
Is it, Mr. Tyler? You look thunderous.
He stopped short and blinked. My apologies, Im distracted. I lost something when f
irst I was here. Have you found anything lying about? A ring perhaps? Gold. Big.
You lost it here, sir?
I took it off to chop wood and put it in my waistcoat pocket. Perhaps not.
As I recall, you removed your greatcoat and coat At this, she blushed. She shouldnt
admit she watched him while he undressed. He blinked again then shook his head
as if to clear it.
I did, didnt I? He scanned the yard. Where did I put them, do you recall?
You handed them to me and I put them on the bench. Let me look. She knelt down to
peer under the rough bench where shed sat in a daze admiring him. He joined her,
sweeping his hand through the grass between them. He stood up impatiently and wa
lked over to the stump.
And my waistcoat?
I dont recall, she felt herself blush hotter. Shed been far too engrossed to notice.
I wasnt paying attention.
Nor was I, he said, his tone impatient. I stood here to chop the wood. He looked at
the ground and circled the stump slowly. Then I put the pieces over here. He walke
d to the woodpile and pulled away some firewood to look beneath. Roddys men had d
one their work and a cord of firewood lay stacked in a neat round.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth walked slowly from the woodpile through the cottage doorway
and called out, You were wearing your waistcoat and coat when you came in here.
She crouched down to look at the packed dirt floor. He came in behind her just a
s she stood up so she bumped against him and tottered off balance. He steadied h
er, and they both stilled.
Dont fall, he ordered unnecessarily still clasping her arms.
Of course not, thank you, Mr. Tyler. Once he let go, she smoothed her hair back wi
th a nervous hand and turned to face him. He stared at her as if hed forgotten wh
y hed come. And at the moment, she was having difficulty recalling his purpose as
well.
With a start, he muttered, The yew! Mustnt forget the yew.
She followed him partway to the old yew near the cottage.

He circled it, head bent, kicking in the grass. Looking glum, he said, Its gone. L
ost. I am a fool.
Im very sorry, Mr. Tyler. Ill keep looking for it.
No use, that. It could be anywhere, he said and swept a hand to encompass the enti
re horizon before he let it fall to his side.
Still, it will turn up, Im certain of it.
Then you are a greater fool than I, Lady Elizabeth. Its gone.
Optimism doesnt make me foolish and it wont lessen the chances of finding your ring
.
Nor will it improve them, but the expectation of finding it worsens ones disappoin
tment when it fails to turn up.
But, she argued, if it does turn up, it justifies ones hope. That cannot be a bad th
ing. He stared at her as if she were simple-minded. We must do as our disparate na
tures dictate, sir. I shall expect to find your lost ring with luck and enough l
ooking whereas you shall find nothing because you refuse to look for fear of gre
ater disappointment.
The man glowered at her as if she were talking nonsense, which she knew perfectl
y well she was not.
Dont you glare at me. She thrust an accusatory finger at his nose. You are the one w
ho makes no sense.
His black brows shot up and he blinked. Well. Ill be off then. Might as well searc
h the meadow.
Would you like some help?
No need to waste your time, too. Good day.
Ill find it, Mr. Tyler, I will.
He merely bowed to her and hoisted himself into the saddle. Without another word
, he rode away.
She searched the cottage yard on hands and knees, combing slowly through the tal
l grass. She looked inside the cottage. Outside again, she paced, head down, slo
wly around the stump where he chopped wood for her. She removed more firewood fr
om the pile. Around the base of the yew where hed looked cursorily, she made a mi
nute examination. Nothing. She widened her search.
It had to be somewhere.
After hours on her hands and knees, she turned up nothing but partridge bones.

Chapter 5
In which other hopes are dashed.

Carreg Castle, Wales.11

Im tempted not to pay you for failure but I want you gone back to Ludlow without a
fuss, Lady Clun said without emotion to the four rough characters standing befor
e her in the castles great hall.
Yes, yladyship, the leader of the loutish foursome said. Didnt get a name. Its for sur
e shes no local girl. Thats a fact.
Oh? And how did you deduce this? Lady Clun asked. The mans face blanked so she clos
ed her eyes, inhaled slowly to count to five and rephrased the question, How do y
ou know she isnt local?
She dont know anyone in the village and no one knows her. Just appeared one day no
t long ago. A bit out of the ordinary, you might say. He refrained from mentionin
g theyd not only asked around about the girl at Lady Cluns behest but also robbed
her. It was an impetuous act inspired by the sight of a particularly fine engrav
ed gold locket hanging around her neck and a pair of lustrous pearls dangling fr
om her ears. Jewelry like that just didnt come along in Clun Forest. Or Ludlow fo
r that matter. The man added, Her brother threatened us wi harm so we made ourselv
es scarce. Thought you should know shes not alone and seems like to stay.
Is she pretty?
Id say so. Folks say shes queer in the head and steer clear o her, maam. They knew he
r brother in the village, though. Big man, he. Didnt like us, er, snooping about
her, he fibbed.
Strange, the baroness hissed, eyes narrowing as she considered the likelihood of a
local man with an unknown sibling. She dismissed it. Next she considered who in
the vicinity would confront four men to help an unfamiliar girl. Two came to mi
nd. One was steward of The Graces, the other had been in Bath and was expected i
n London the last shed heard. She fingered the Staffordshire china dog on the tab
le beside her. It cost three times what she would pay these ineffectual fools.
What did this big man look like? The baroness demanded.
Tall, big, black hair. Didnt look much like her, come to think of it.
She were tall, murmured another thug.
A Long Meg, the leader agreed. And him bigger still.
Did you see his eyes? Were they blue?
Black as Hades, he answered without hesitation.
Ah. The baroness leaned back.
Her son happened to turn up in time to rescue some strange wench. Given his geni
us for frustrating her, he would probably become infatuated with the tall, daft

stray and turn his nose up at a proper choice for the next Lady Clun.
Something odd was afoot at The Graces. Strange, unattached females, mad or not,
did not secret themselves on de Sayre property. That Roddy hadnt run her off was
puzzling, too. This female was still a most unwelcome mystery.
Lady Clun detested puzzles and surprises when they involved her son. She liked t
o stay well informed about the barons whereabouts and activities because she was
anxious, nay determined, to see him married and settled.
She would have to tread carefully to learn more. She couldnt very well interrogat
e Clun. Hed resent her prying even though she did it for the good of the barony.
Perhaps shed summon the steward for an explanation instead.
Very well, be gone. I have no more need of you. She turned to her Welsh seneschal,
Dafydd ap Rhys and added, Price, pay them what I owe and see they return to Ludl
ow without passing through the village, Ill not have them seen anywhere nearby ag
ain. Understand?
Perfectly, ap Rhys replied with a grimace. The baroness insisted on anglicizing hi
s Welsh name, like it or not. He did not.
The men left with him.
What now?
As she fumed, the frustration bubbling within now boiled over and she flicked th
e pot dog off the table. It shattered into pieces with a gratifying crash.
She would learn what she could here before leaving for London to renew her acqua
intance with Viscountess Presteigne and her daughter, Horatia.

Chapter 6
In which the baron is bared.

The Graces

The day dawned clear. It was the fifth consecutive day without rain and a minor
miracle in Shropshire that autumn according to Tyler Rodwell. Clun surveyed the
southern reach of his estate on foot with Roddy. The baron hadnt walked the land
in almost a decade and he wanted to see firsthand how the estate fared in his lo
ng absence. Todays tour came as a relief. He found fields dotted with neat, black
-faced sheep. Prosperous tenant farmers lived in well-maintained cottages with p
lacid milk cows in nearby pastures.
Halfway through their walk, Clun turned to his half-brother and said, Thank you,
Roddy. For this.

My pleasure, Roddy replied with a slight nod.

Tyler Rodwell was a capable steward and a man remarkably free of bitterness.
Neither Roddy nor he had an easy upbringing. Far from it. But theyd grown up alli
es not enemies, as mightve been the case with a younger heir and an older bastard
son. Before Clun lay abundant evidence of that fraternal bond.
When hed been Master William, Clun looked up to his older brother, circumstances
of their births notwithstanding; and Roddy stood by him while living at the cast
le.
The late baron had also done what he could to prevent discord between the half-s
iblings, accomplishing most of it by fiat. When he fathered his firstborn as an
unmarried bon vivant, he acknowledged him at birth, gave him a family name Tyler
and supported him and Agnes Rodwell comfortably in Ludlow. Two years later, Lor
d Clun took a proper baroness and soon after begat an heir. His legitimate son w
as christened William Tyler de Sayre. The name the two shared marked a connectio
n between half-brothers the father hoped to foster.
When Tylers mother died of fever, the baron decreed that his by-blow be raised at
the castle alongside his legitimate son, against Lady Cluns express wishes; and
he demanded that the boy be treated well, against Lady Cluns natural inclination.
But by this time, the baron had little concern for his ladys preferences. Their m
arriage, begun in the heat of impulse, had curdled like fresh milk on a hot day
and left a permanently sour taste in the mouths of man and wife ever after. Unli
ke Lady Clun, Lord Clun never discussed his disenchantment with friends or marty
red himself to the Love he once felt.
The baron decamped to London, where he took up permanent residence with his hous
ekeeper, Mrs. Stepney, and left his rancid marriage and his bitter, humiliated b
aroness stewing in Wales. He also left his heir and bastard behind for reasons n
ever explained to either son. Thereafter, he went to The Graces rarely.
Tyler Rodwell grew up at Carreg Castle with William, though he had almost no con
tact with Lady Clun. She showed her husbands bastard scant tolerance when she was
nt ignoring him entirely.
William had always considered Roddy fortunate to have been born beneath her cont
empt. He hadnt been so lucky.
At times, the baroness had expressed affection for her little boy mostly at chur
ch or in front of guests. More often, it was young William on whom she uncorked
her bottled-up vitriol about disappointments in love, marriage and the baron he
closely resembled. William, not Roddy, served as scapegoat for her undiluted ven
om against the faithless, heartless man she was lovesick enough to have married.
Often the baroness declared all de Sayre men constitutionally incapable of love. S
he took to referring to the castles portrait gallery as the Hall of Hard-Hearted
Brutes, and as proof pointed out all the de Sayre wives miserable expressions to
William.
She never raised her voice or expressed her resentment in reckless anger, which
was far worse for her young son. She often prefaced her diatribes by saying calm
ly they were plain truths told with brutal honesty. Yet William knew something sim
mered noxiously beneath his mothers composed faade and it left him feeling only wa
ry of her.

The boy knew better than to admit aloud he didnt love her. Nevertheless, one of L
ady Cluns few maternal instincts detected her sons lack of affection. This betraya
l she added to her litany of resentments, never acknowledging her own role in ca
using it. More times than he could count, the boy heard he was no better than his
father and possibly worse, for a son ought to love his mother with all his cold,
little heart. This, she said with a brittle trill in her voice, as if it were a g
reat joke, all the while, her eyes glittered with moisture.
So young William learned to withhold himself from her as a matter of self-preser
vation, but his mothers words penetrated his heart while it was still vulnerable.
A parents harsh judgment of a child carries with it near-divine authority. Over
time, it becomes a governing voice in that childs head, whispering invective, rai
sing doubts and quashing hope. Sadly, such a child might learn to ignore that be
littling voice but he could not escape its corrosive effects. Thus it was with W
illiam Tyler de Sayre.
As William grew up, he still felt no love for his mother or absent father and co
ncluded that perhaps his mother was right: he was cold and incapable of proper l
ove. She reinforced this conclusion over the years in ways subtle and less so.
From his mother, William learned one more unforgettable lesson: no one inflicts
more suffering than a woman embittered by disappointment in love. A resentful wi
fe could drive off a husband and heap misery upon blameless children without a m
oments remorse.
Thus, years of observation and empirical evidence informed Cluns definition of a
happy marriage as a union founded on sensible, unemotional expectations. As a re
sult, arranging his marriage to a stranger suited Clun to a fare-thee-well.
As for formal education, tutors had instructed Roddy and William together until
the barons bastard was old enough to begin learning the estates management. With t
he barons approval, Roddy removed to The Graces permanently when he was fourteen.
With his fathers blessing, he assumed responsibility for the de Sayre family hol
dings years later when the old steward died.
Soon after Roddy left the castle, the Hon. William de Sayre was sent up to Eton
which, given his intelligence, precocious size and forbidding disposition, prove
d an uneventful rite of passage. When he came of age, he chose to attend the new
ly established military college for officers in High Wycombe. He was one of very
few heirs apparent to do so, given the ongoing hostilities with Imperial France
.
From that time on, William went home to The Graces, where Cook, whod started at t
he castle, ruled the kitchen and made his visits joyful. Christmas Eve each year
, he made a dutiful visit to see his mother. For the three or four hours they sp
ent together, strolling the grounds, having a light tea and seeing her parrots i
n the aviary, both managed to hide their resentments from the other.
The previous baron had been living the life of a rou in London for years when Wil
liam went off to war on the Iberian Peninsula in 1807. The baron never reproache
d his son for jeopardizing one of Englands oldest, uninterrupted hereditary title
s. His father mustve understood his need to escape the baroness, whatever the cos
t.
Fate compensated William Tyler de Sayre generously for his dismal childhood by g
ranting him friendships with fellow cavalrymen, the Hon. George Percy, Lord Burt
on Seelye and Lord Jeremy Maubrey (now tenth Duke of Ainsworth). The four accept
ed one another faults and all and loved one another wholeheartedly. Their affect
ion was most often expressed in merciless, ribald teasing and ridiculous dares t
hat threatened life and limb off the battlefield. Fate was also kind enough to s

ee all of them returned to England to continue their friendship in peacetime.

The four horsemen served with distinction in the Royal Horse Guards Blue of the
Household Cavalry, earning praise from their commanding officer, Henry Paget, Ea
rl of Uxbridge. It was he who bestowed on them the now-famous sobriquet the Four
Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Uxbridge had a genius for self-promotion and upliftin
g war propaganda and their extraordinary valor reflected well on his command and
made for irresistible copy in newsprint. So Uxbridge exploited them without com
punction. For his part, Wellington tolerated Uxbridges notorious Four Horsemen, r
eviewing newspaper accounts with characteristic sangfroid while on the battlefie
ld with fighting underway.
When the war had ended, Lord Clun came home to England, sold his commission and
sought to settle into civilian life. Meeting his bride-to-be helped silence some
of his natural pessimism about marriage. But not most of it. For in Elizabeths a
ttitude, he recognized the hopefulness of a born romantic and feared the worst.
Thus preoccupied, Clun followed Roddy over stiles and hand-piled rock walls to c
ross the fields. They headed for the forests edge.
The baron considered his brother as they walked single file. Even as children, R
oddy had addressed his younger brother without malice as Master William and after
their father died as Lord Clun. Now that Clun was back to stay, he wasnt sure what
degree of intimacy Roddy would accept in their connection.
Walking the property, Roddy observed all the formalities of a steward with his l
ord. In turn, Clun respected Roddys privacy. He refrained from asking after Ted t
hough he was certain there was no Mrs. Rodwell. Nor did he ask Cook to betray an
y confidences. The brothers had plenty of time to renew their acquaintance and s
et aside this formality. Or so Clun wished.
The baron tramped into a surviving stand of primeval forest and breathed in the
clean scent of the woods. He dawdled to look up in awe at the vaulted forest can
opy while Roddy ranged ahead.

* * *

Elizabeth watched the strapping, black-haired man walk briskly along a narrow pa
th through the forest on the opposite side of the stream not a stones throw away.
His attire was more distinctly rural than hed worn previously. She stood with a
pail of water in hand. When he finally looked up, she smiled tentatively, then s
quinted and shaded her eyes.
Good day, Lady Elizabeth, he bowed when he saw her. His voice sounded strange.
Mr. Tyler, is that you?
Ur, no-oo. The man looked over his shoulder as if she might be addressing someone
else. He resembled Mr. Tyler and yet she felt certain he was not.
Do I know you, sir? She pursued, growing uneasy.

Not as yet, my lady. I am Rodwell, the barons steward, at your service. His lordsh
ipll be along in a moment, he said with a smile.
She set down her pail. She couldnt possibly escape meeting Lord Clun now. She was
trapped. Even if she gathered her things and took off on foot, she had nowhere
else to hide except the cottage. His cottage.
The affable, irksome Mr. Tyler had mentioned having a half-brother and, of all t
he wretched luck, his sibling was Lord Cluns steward. Mr. Tyler mustve mentioned h
er and her connection to the baron because the steward addressed her by name and
assumed she wished to see Lord Clun, which she most certainly did not.
Elizabeth stood poised to run, heart racing, bucket forgotten, waiting for his l
ordship to limp into view, coughing up phlegm and complaining of gout or chilbla
ins. (She shuddered.) Instead, Mr. Tyler ambled up with head down, switching the
brush at his feet with a stick.
Your lordship the steward warned.
Thats odd.
Mr. Tyler glanced up. Yes? His gaze swung from Rodwell to her. Oh, he said slowly. He
llo, Lady Elizabeth. Are you well?
Odder than the steward addressing Mr. Tyler as your lordship was the fact that he
responded to it just as naturally. It took no time to solve the puzzle. She went
rigid with outrage.
I am quite well, Lord Clun, Elizabeth spat out the last two syllables. She spun on
her heels, hoisting her bucket, frock and petticoat with one hand and scrambled
up the muddy embankment with the other.
Oh! I shouldve known! She mimicked, The barons coming! Up against a tree! Down in the
dirt! Of all the odious, infantile She flounced off sputtering, shaking her fist in
the air.

* * *

Lord Clun realized immediately this was an unfortunate turn of events. Neverthel
ess, he enjoyed watching her slip and churn mud as she clawed her way up the opp
osite bank.
Well-turned ankles, my lord. Roddy noted under his breath.
Mmm, yes. Clun made his way to the waters edge to judge the streams depth. Forgot to
mention she didnt know who I was precisely.
So I gathered, Mr. Tyler. Roddy deadpanned and accepted his lordships coat and wais
tcoat as he shed them. The fords not a quarter mile downstream.
Ill ruin my boots but I think it best to strike while the ladys hot.

He stepped in resolutely.
Argh!
Just as cold as he remembered.
The water reached his upper thighs and shrank his man parts as he waded across t
he stream hissing and cussing aloud at the God-awful cold. Once on the other sid
e, he called back, Will you have hot bath water waiting? Give me a half hours grac
e.
I will, my lord, Roddy said.
Chilled to the bone, the baron struggled up the slick embankment after his furio
us fiance. His mud-clotted boots squelched with every footfall. His buckskins clu
ng wet and cold. He swore a blue streak all the way to the cottage and pounded o
n the door.
She swung it open and curtseyed, Your lordship, what an honor! She held a hand beh
ind her back and he hoped it wasnt a gun.
Please, Bess.
She brandished a long, two-tined fork in his face. I have never given you leave t
o use my Christian name much less a pet name whoever you are!
Let me explain.
Why should I, you lying, deceitful
Now, none of that. I didnt lie.
No, Mr. Tyler?
Well, I omitted my surname and you leapt to a conclusion I was loath to correct.
Oh, yes, lets discuss loathing, shall we? You came thundering down a hill yelling
at me, The barons riding by! Did you not?
Well, I was, wasnt I?
She slitted her eyes at him and poked the fork in his direction. You had me lie f
ace down in the dirt, with insects crawling on me, while you pretended to greet
yourself.
Clun couldnt help one coughed laugh before he sobered up to look contrite.
And what about albino monkey hands with foppish amounts of lace?
He snorted and struggled to school his features.
You, sir, are detestable.

* * *

He was detestable and yet Elizabeth couldnt detest him satisfactorily.

She let fly her recriminations.; yet even as she upbraided him, a corner of her
mind assimilated a far more pleasant shock. He was Lord Clun. Not some ancient,
swollen, monkey-pawed wineskin suffering all the symptoms of decrepitude.
Now, now, careful harridan or youll put someones eye out, he said and sent a shiver
down her spine.
Furious as Elizabeth was, his voice sang deliciously over the word haRrridan and m
ade it sound as sweet as a term of endearment.
He dared insult her yet she wanted to smile.
Again, the mellifluous quality of Lord Cluns deep voice captivated her. His Engli
sh was standard-issue upper class but within the sound of his words was a sensua
l something that disturbed her in the pleasantest way. The subtle roll of his rs
and the slightest whisper of a trill in his ths, made his speech play like water
slipping over stones in a stream. His Welsh-infused voice was deep, melodic and
profoundly seductive. His every utterance, even crabby name calling, was a pleas
ure to hear. Only let him speak recite a dictionary or even legal notices in the
newspaper and if he kept at it long enough, she would swoon in his arms. In add
ition to the natural music in his speech, a teasing tone every so often belied h
is gruff rebukes and scowling demeanor.
Lord Clun might do nicely.
Elizabeth tried to remain outraged as she faced him, fork in hand, because she k
new righteous indignation gave her the advantage. Hed hoaxed her and for that he
must grovel. Still, she could not ignore the waves of relief she felt. Only cons
ider, Mr. Tyler, the man shed mourned as a Hopeless Ineligible, was her intended.
On the whole, she began to feel more sanguine about their marriage.
Still, on principle, she held him at tine points.
When next she glanced up at his face, she found his lips turning blueish-gray. S
he looked down, took in his sodden breeches and ruined boots and noticed the chi
ll in the air. He stood before her, wet, suffering and smiling cautiously, attem
pting perhaps to gauge her mood.
If I werent a Christian, Id skewer you as you deserve. She lowered the fork. Well? Do
nt stand there, come in where its warm. She drew him into the cottage. His arm was
very solid, just as she remembered from their first meeting at The Sundew. It wa
s, she thought, so rare to find a well-born man with such brawn. Though still fu
rious, she had to admit things couldve turned out far worse.
She added wood to the fire till the blaze crackled.
You are wet through and shivering. How will I live with myself if you succumb to
a lung fever? She clucked and sat him down on a broken-backed chair next to the h
earth. She offered him her shawl and he took it gratefully. Can your boots be rem
oved?
Im not sure.
Well? She held out her hands and he lifted one filthy boot up reluctantly. She gri
pped the mud-slimed footwear by the top of the toe and back of the heel and gave

it a hard yank. Her hands slipped. Mud splattered her face and dress.
They laughed together.
Feel free to make a suggestion, she said. Im no valet.
Clearly. Fewings would have fainted dead away or drawn a razor across his throat
to escape the horror of addressing these.
How am I to remove them?
Let me try. Clun pried at one heel with the toe of his other sodden boot. It didnt
budge. He wriggled and scraped at them. He pushed down from the cuff while the f
ire warmed then heated the soaked leather. The boots grew snug.
Nothing else for it, he said and drew a small knife from the top of his right boot
. He slipped the blade carefully between leg and leather to slice through the sh
ank.
Take care! She cried out. It was, she feared, such a sharp blade. One slip and he
might slash his leg.
He looked up exasperated and said, Please hold your outbursts till I am done. I w
ish to sacrifice a boot not a calf.
She smiled at his pun and said, Of course, forgive me.
He slit the boot to the ankle and shucked it. She opened her mouth to speak, but
he held up the knife to silence her before he set upon the second boot and peel
ed it off.
I am sorry, she said.
Alas! They were good boots. Trusty boots. Clun stood up in wet, stockinged feet an
d intoned mournfully, Feet never knew better boots. I believe in my heart their s
oles are in heaven. Requiescat in pace.
Amen, she chuckled.
He grew solemn. Lady Elizabeth, I shouldnt have deceived you. Or played my childis
h pranks. Can you forgive me? He watched her closely and she felt color rise to h
er cheeks. He leaned closer to whisper, It was wrong of me, I admit, but I enjoye
d your candid opinions about Lord Clun nonetheless.
She looked away and said, And now it is my turn to apologize. I have insulted you
without scruple and to add injury to insult youve ruined a fine pair of boots to
treat for peace with me.
Wrecked Hobys are a small price to pay if Ive earned your pardon. He hovered too clo
se for comfort, though she welcomed the discomfort he caused.
If only I had known Lord Clun was so jokeative a gentleman, I might not have run
off in the first place.
Jokeative is not a word, my lady, he murmured.
No, but it ought to be. Jokeative, as in tending to make too many jokes, just as
talkative is tending to make too much conversation.
He smiled down at her and said, Sad that Dr. Johnson died before you could contri

bute that to his dictionary.

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his, and sighed, I must agree.
They stared silently at one another.
Finally, Clun roused himself, One of my favorite terms of Dr. Johnsons is obstipat
ion. Then he recited, Obstipation: the stopping up of a passage, as in: A kiss cau
ses an obstipation of both mouths involved. Chuckling, he defined an obscure word
from A Dictionary of the English Language. He stood too close and seemed on ver
ge of illustrating the definition himself.
Wag, she replied in reproach, a ludicrously mischievous person, as in: You, my lord
, are a wag to threaten me with obstipation.
Not waggish, uxorious.
We are not yet married.
But soon we will be.
Rather than fall completely under his spell, she huffed, I should like to see you
submissively fond of your wife. Given your professed opinions, I cannot expect
much fondness from you as a husband, can I?
Fondness, yes. Ridiculous, romantic, calf-eyed love, no, you may not, he confirmed
. But when I am fond, Bess, I am very fond.

* * *

To prove his point, Clun gathered his disgruntled fiance in his arms. And yet aga
in, she surprised him. Although he made her damp and cold, she didnt shrink away.
She accepted his embrace without flinching.
By God, he thought with relief, his betrothed was a hardy female with a wit that
delighted him. Her braided hair smelled of fresh autumn air. He enjoyed the swe
et scent of her almost as much as he enjoyed the feel of her warm, soft body in
his arms. Her hands slipped tentatively around his waist. He drew her tighter ag
ainst him to nuzzle her long, lovely neck just below her dangling pearl earring.
She sighed in his embrace.
In seconds, despite his cold, wet clothes, the barons body began to hum. His nerv
es crackled. He wanted her. He reminded himself not to squeeze her too hard. Tho
ugh she appeared sturdy, it wouldnt do to crack her ribs inadvertently.
Shed called him a wag and, though he denied it, she was right. They were not wed
yet. Much against his inclination, Lord Clun set her from him and ignored her sm
all cry of consternation.
For that, too, I must beg forgiveness. You are a sore temptation.

A slow smile lit her face. He held her at arms length, but he could feel his good
intentions going bad. So without another word, he sat abruptly, took up his rui
ned boots and slashed off the gaping shanks. Warmed sufficiently by her embrace
and the fire he forced his feet into the shoe-like lower portions and stumbled o
ut in sodden, crumpled stockings and hairy, bare calves.
Though she was a tall, sturdy woman, she was a virgin all the same. And Clun tho
ught it wouldnt be wise to hold her close, while his growing interest became outr
ight fascination.

* * *

Mr. Tyler, or rather Lord Clun, left Elizabeth abruptly. Hed charmed her, cuddled
her, teased her, aroused her and then confounded her with his precipitous escap
e, for surely his sudden, wild-eyed shuffle away was just that.
She was curious about the intimacy he began and wanted to indulge her curiosity.
Surely, he sensed that. When he swelled against her body, she felt an answering
weakness in her knees and a simmering heat low in her belly. Just as her chaper
one Mrs. Abeel had said, it was a delightful sensation of closeness quite the op
posite of anything genteel.
Elizabeth had clung to him shamelessly, responding to his embrace with a hunger
she never felt before. Lord Clun awakened her senses and clouded them. He made h
er heart thump till she was light headed. She knew it couldnt be love shed only ju
st met the man, but it certainly boded well for their married life.
Until, that is, he scampered off like a shy woodland creature.

Chapter 7
In which our hero and heroine become better acquainted with their differences.

The next morning, Clun awoke, dressed and rode to the little cottage immediately
after his late breakfast. Before he could rap on the cottages front door, Elizab
eth opened it and released a fragrant cloud of warm, baked something.
Would you care to take a stroll with me, my lady? Clun asked with a courtly bow.
Elizabeth turned back inside to pick up her shawl, which he took from her and dr
aped over her shoulders. They stepped out into the cool, overcast morning. She t
ook his arm, and he led her to a path that wound through nearby meadows and skir
ted the forest. He allowed her to set a snails pace.

When do you hope to marry, Lord Clun? She asked without preamble.
Immediately. Here at The Graces as quickly as I can arrange it, he replied serious
ly. He looked at her to judge her response.
So soon?
Weve been betrothed more than a twelve-month, my lady.
Yet, we hardly know one another, my lord, she said and pulled away.
Your point?
Youve lived this long without feeling the need to perpetuate the line. Why address
your oversight in such haste now? You couldve sold out and returned years ago if
the cause were so urgent.
One cannot prance off during a war when one pleases. Nor can one abandon friends
to their fate, go home to sip port and fill a nursery. Its not done. Its a matter
of honor.
Why didnt you marry immediately after the war?
He glowered at her. I as good as did. I made arrangements soon after I returned a
nd was betrothed to you.
To someone youd never met.
Were getting acquainted now, arent we?
But what if youd met the perfect woman, your true love, after our betrothal?
I was betrothed, Clun said with a darkling look. I was honor-bound to abide by it.
Did you meet someone and fall in love?
I did not. I would not, he replied through gritted teeth.
Even if it meant sacrificing true love for this silly arrangement? Thats heartless
!
That damned word was thrown at him again and again. He snapped, Not heartless, La
dy Elizabeth, and not silly. Sensible. Making an effort not to lose his temper, h
e added, I gave my word.
Even after marriage, only the rare aristocrat honors his vows.
He glared down at her and said, I will.
Shouldnt your bride want to marry you?
You dont?
Im not as opposed to it as I once was, but Ive had no time to consider it properly.
Surely thats obvious to you.
Under the circumstances, I would say nothing is obvious to me. Your running away.
Your being here. None of it. Besides, youve had nearly eighteen months to object
. Its time we married.

I wish to know you better.

We have the rest of our lives to do so at our leisure. First, we must marry.
Why must we rush?
For one, you are presently unmarried, without a chaperone, living in a cottage ch
eek by jowl to me and other unmarried men on my land. That your reputation hasnt
been hopelessly compromised is a miracle due only to the isolation of this place
. Any fool can appreciate that a timely marriage is your only option.
We cannot marry tomorrow, or even a week hence. Preparations take time. The banns
must be read, relatives invited.
He interrupted, Ive already had the banns read in London. I can have it expedited
here.
Cant we use this time to become better acquainted?
He couldnt decide if he should kiss her quiet or run far away, instead he snapped
, To what end? If Id wanted to fritter away days and weeks doing that, I wouldve su
bjected myself to the full horrors of the Marriage Mart.
Have you any
fists on hips
you prefer to
tom myself to
have not.

alternative, Lord Clun? She stepped in front of him to face him with
and feet planted. I may be poised on the verge of ruin, but unless
brave Almacks next spring, you will allow me a little time to accus
the notion of marrying you. Not that Ive agreed to it, mind you, I

You play at brinksmanship with me? He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of hi
s nose. I have little patience for wooing you, Lady Elizabeth, and I have even le
ss for cavorting in ballrooms or attending dreadful musicales. I have no interes
t in making a pointless, hopeless attempt to convince some missish young lady th
at Im not an over-large, under-civilized and foul-tempered man. Is that clear?
I am not missish.
No, you werent missish until just now. At this moment, youre sounding overwrought o
r simple-minded. Or both.
As I was saying, youre a large man, Lord Clun, she continued unfazed, but you are no
t grotesque.
He let his hand drop away from his face and regarded her. Do stop, I blush at you
r blandishments, he deadpanned.
She rolled her eyes.
At the risk of stating the obvious, my lady, the only reason I intimidate you les
s than most females is that youre much larger than most.
I am not large, she said, Im tall though I prefer the term Junoesque. And my height
is not why you dont intimidate me.
No?
She tightened the shawl around her shoulders, looked down at her feet and ground
out, You have a pleasant smile, if you must know.
Have I? He gloated, suddenly pleased with this getting-to-know-one-another busines

s.
She scowled and continued to lecture him, In fact, youd be much less intimidating
to any young lady if you glowered less and smiled more. And cut your hair.
How can hair intimidate anyone? That makes no sense.
You dress well, she said, looking him up and down. And your smile is endearing, whe
n rarely you do smile.
If you think so, I am glad, but I dont care if I intimidate silly chits.
You should. Youd have options if we dont suit.
That silenced Clun momentarily. Lady Elizabeth, let me remind you that as long as
we are betrothed, he enunciated, Im not obligated to spend interminable evenings g
rinning like a niddycock to put some other young miss at her ease. Which, I repe
at, would be insufferable. In fact, Im finding it challenge enough to win over th
e lunatic female to whom Im betrothed.
You can be charming when you want to be. Ive seen it.
Right. Say I hunt up another female and, for arguments sake, lets pretend my hair f
ails to terrify her and my elusive smile somehow charms her. What then? One day,
the scales will fall from her eyes. She will realize the truth about me and mak
e us both suffer for her disillusionment. No, my lady, Id rather take my chances
with you.
Even with your scowls and foul temper, youre quite a catch, Lord Clun.
So says my betrothed who ran away and hid rather than meet me.
I must point out that I didnt run away after I met you. So you see, its not that I
took exception to you, per se. Its that I didnt want to marry a stranger.
Why didnt you speak up before now?
I thought it obvious to my father that I wouldnt wish to marry a man Id never met.
Given his arrangements, its more obvious your father thought it best that you marr
y a man who hadnt met you. Clun scraped a hand down his face. And having met you, I
must agree.
By that, you mean Im a termagant, a harpy, a harridan. Have I forgotten any?
Minx.
Fine, and a minx.
She-devil.
Thats quite enough, Clun, she chuckled despite herself.
Vixen, he said with quite a few more to suggest. Troublesome baggage
It would serve you right if I did marry you, she sniffed.
Wouldnt it just! He said with growing exasperation. But fortunately for me, youve run
off and hidden God-knows-where to avoid marrying me and your poor father cant po
ssibly find you. He roared so loudly a startled woodcock burst from the meadow gr

ass ahead and pelted away. Ive a mind to write to the earl immediately and demand
he produce my bride-to-be.
You wouldnt. She shoved at his chest, but he didnt budge.
It would serve you right if I did, he replied, mirroring her narrowed eyes and for
ward thrust chin with his own.
I forbid it, she said.
I would and will. Clun spun on his heels and strode away.
Say, dont go off and do something youll regret, Lord Clun, she called after him.
Regret, hmphf! He snorted at her over his shoulder and stomped off.
She gave chase. Dont leave in a snit.
A snit? He stopped abruptly. A snit, you say, little Miss Poaching-Termagant-Bane-o
f-Robbers-and-Thieves. I will leave in a snit if I wish to. A snit, he hissed, hi
s black eyes drilling into her. Though he snorted like an enraged bull, she didnt
step away. He admired her for this grudgingly.
Heavens, youre fractious. You must be hungry.
He blinked at this unexpected salvo.
Would you like something to eat while we argue? Lady Elizabeth tucked her hand bac
k into the crook of his arm. They had strolled no more than a few hundred yards.
I am not fractious, you are infuriating, he replied as she tugged him back toward
the cottage. Poach any more of my partridges?
No, and as I told you, I traded for those, Clun. Today, I baked scones, but theyre
getting cold while you fly into a pucker.
Fly into a what did you say? He cried. Wait. Scones?
Just baked.
Dont think Im forgetting my annoyance.
I understand. Its a temporary suspension of hostilities, nothing more.
Yes.
I accept your terms. Come while theyre still warm.
With a shock, he realized Lady Elizabeth had spiked his guns with fresh-baked pa
stry. And shed done it so adroitly that he wouldnt have noticed at all had she man
aged to school her features.
Smug puss.
Still, he felt no lingering animosity. In truth, he felt quite the opposite.
Is that how you manage your father? Clun inquired to let her know he was aware of
her ploy.
For an instant, he saw her expression cloud over. No. I dont manage the earl. I wo

uldve thought our betrothal made that plain.

They walked together in silence back to the little cottage. Inside, she brought
mugs and the chipped pitcher to the table and motioned for him to be seated.
Milk? He asked and poured some into each mug.
I milked one of your cows while she pastured, she grinned. She placed a plate pile
d high with warm scones down before him. He sat down after she did.
You milked a cow?
She wasnt keen at first. I succeeded eventually.
Her cool dignity aroused all kinds of mischief in him. So youd prefer to be a gyps
y dairymaid than my baroness?
Might I remind you, we are enjoying scones during a suspension of hostilities.
Merely curious. He drank his milk in a gulp.
I understand. More milk? She offered equably without answering him.
Hoyden.
Clun enjoyed her scones. He enjoyed even more watching her eat a scone. She brok
e it into small bites and dipped each in her mug before popping it between rosy
bee-stung lips. The silence lengthened.
He let out a sigh, almost a groan, and asked, What is it you wish to know about m
e?
Are you poxy from all your warring and whoring on the continent?
He choked and sputtered, What?
She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing further, bite of scone poised over her
mug ready for dipping.
No, he replied, badly ruffled. I am not.
How can you be certain? She popped the morsel into her mouth.
I wont tell you until were married. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair when she l
icked her finger.
I wont marry you until you tell me.
Ah well, weve reached an impasse and youre welcome to cry off.
I wont cry off either.
Whos being peevish now? He muttered between savage bites of another scone.
Any children born on the wrong side of the blanket?
What lady asks such a thing? Clun exclaimed.
She waited.

He growled, There are ways to prevent it.

Such as? Her face was a picture of innocent inquiry as she popped another bite of
scone between her lips. The tip of her tongue licked at a crumb at the corner of
her mouth. She blinked several times as if waiting for a matter-of-fact answer
to her outrageously inappropriate question. Worse was the effect her little kitt
en tongue was having on his peace of mind.
Wont you take my word for it? He sighed and stretched his neck to right and left ti
ll it cracked. Its not something I wish to discuss with my betrothed.
Yet youd be willing to discuss it with your wife? Thats nonsense, Clun. Im just curi
ous.
He stared at her, with lips clamped shut and the corners of his clenched jaw pop
ping out of their sockets.
Glare all you want, my lord, Im not the least intimidated.
He groaned deeply and scraped both hands slowly down his face.
French letters, you minx, he ground out. But I will not satisfy your curiosity furt
her.
Mrs. Abeel always said warring and whoring rhyme for a reason.
Did she? And has this oracle anything else to say about men?
Well, no. She passed away two years ago. She used to say even a fine gent can be p
oxy as a doxy, she added, quite matter-of-factly.
In contrast, Clun was shocked. And oddly relieved. Lady Elizabeth Damogan was no
t a female with easily overset sensibilities. She brought up questions no other
well-bred lady would and stood her ground till answered. He was proving far more
missish than she.

* * *

As they ate, Lord Clun choked on his scone several times. Odder still, he looked
wary of becoming acquainted. Elizabeth wanted to reassure him and set the examp
le by revealing a little about herself.
Im told I resemble my late mother.
When did you lose her?
She died in childbirth. I nearly died, too, apparently. I love to read. The earl
taught me how when I was little. I saw less of him as I grew up. Mrs. Abeel said
I was the image of my mother. Perhaps it was too much for him to bear, he loved
her very much, you see.
Your father never remarried?

No. I had a nurse until he invited Mrs. Abeel to be my governess and ultimately m
y chaperone. She was fathers cousin, a naval captains widow left in difficult circ
umstances. Mrs. Abeel taught me deportment, manners and accomplishments I can pa
int watercolors and embroider well enough. And bake. Im not supposed to you dont m
ind, do you? Elizabeth held a piece of scone up.
He shook his head, his mouth full.
I cannot sing or play anything more complicated than the hornpipe.
He choked and swallowed quickly. A hornpipe? No.
Quite well and dont look at me that way. It is an instrument, she said, a bit defen
sively.
He laughed.
Mrs. Abeel taught me to behave like a lady, but think for myself. She was a much
freer thinker than the earl realized. I could ask her anything. If she didnt know
the answer, off wed go to Hookhams subscription library in Bond Street or to Bloo
msbury and the universal museum in Montague House.12
Sounds like a carefree childhood.
No. Not carefree, she said. From an early age, I loved looking at books. I would hi
de away in the earls library when he wasnt at home. My favorites were the dictiona
ries, Dr. Johnsons and more exotic ones, a dusty old tome about Norman French for
one. I spent hours on end reading them. I also admit to enjoying novels as well
.
He stared at her in silence till she, too, fell silent.
Have other women in your family died giving birth? He asked quietly.
None that I know of, why?
I was a large baby.
I imagine you were, she said with a chuckle. His tense look and sudden pallor gave
her pause. She cast about for a way to reassure him and yet avoid indelicacy. I
wont die, er, doing as God intended, I assure you.
You can promise that, can you?
I suppose I cant guarantee it. You must console yourself that if I do die, you may
choose a bride more to your liking in the next go-round.
There is that, he grumbled, but his troubled eyes robbed his words of any levity.
Women did die in childbirth, as Elizabeth knew only too well.
William Tyler de Sayre I am a strong, healthy woman. She discarded delicacy to sta
te, I will not expire giving birth to your babies. I may wish you dead. Thats comm
on among women in labor, or so Mrs. Abeel told me. You neednt fret or fuss about
it prematurely. I cannot credit that a battle-hardened soldier should be so sque
amish.
Youre resigned to our marriage then?
Perhaps. Do stop glowering at me.

I wasnt.
You were! And he was, she thought. He looked gray, grim and glower-y.
I was watching you, he protested.
Its of no consequence. She dipped her scone slowly and changed the subject. What wou
ld you expect of me, if I became your wife?
His eyes were flat, his tone neutral, After producing an heir, we wouldnt have to
have much to do with each other, if that was your wish.
That would seem a bad bargain for both of us, she cried. What of affection? What of
love? Do you imagine I will give up all hope for it in marriage?
He swallowed hard. We can hope, I suppose.
You dont sound optimistic about the possibility. Why not expect it? Demand it? Why
would you settle for so little, Lord Clun?
And why must you expect so much? Its just fairy dust and moonbeams, he snapped. What
is the point of this discussion? Either you will marry me or you wont. He closed
his eyes. I would prefer that you do, however, I wont demand it. If you wish to cr
y off, Lady Elizabeth, our betrothal will end as quickly and discreetly as it be
gan. I will not sue for breech of promise, but Ill see you home without delay. If
you marry me, I will do my best to make you content. Failing that, I promise no
t make you miserable, if I can help it. Otherwise, theres nothing to add. But I v
ow, if you wont have me, that will be the end of it, Clun concluded. Let the earl s
ort you out, I say.
I believe enduring love is the only sound foundation for marriage, Elizabeth said.
By Jove, what claptrap! Love can turn to contempt in the blink of an eye. And whe
n it sours, believe me, only bitterness and misery remain. Such disappointment s
poils all other affection. Whereas mature, reasonable expectations cannot be dis
appointed, my lady, because they can be fulfilled.
I will not marry without love, my lord.
Nor will I pretend to love in order to marry, he growled in reply. I wont spout driv
el to stoke your overheated fantasies. If we can rub along, that is enough for m
e. In return, I will honor you, provide for you and protect you.
My father loved my mother deeply, devotedly. He loves her to this day. That is pe
rfect, enduring love.
I cannot promise you perfection.
Its not impossible to love with devotion. Swans mate for life. Why cant I?
Perhaps because youre not a waterfowl with a brain the size of an acorn. You have
the option to act as a rational creature and accept that there is no such thing
as perfect love in reality.
I wont settle for less.
By all means, dont settle, Lady Elizabeth, Clun spat out and rudely stood to leave.
Dont settle for me. Hold out for a poet. Or more appealing poultry for all I care
. In the meantime, do not presume to lecture me about the proper basis for marri

age, as if you knew better than I.

By that, you mean Im too young to know? She stood up to face him.
Young, yes, and typically nave. He stalked back and forth, stabbing the air in her
direction. But willful foolishness is the prerogative of your gender, he growled a
t her, much like a wolf. (The wolf, she refrained from telling him, also mates f
or life.)
Youve never been married either, so what makes you an expert? She watched him scrap
e his hair roughly back from his face, grabbing it as if to tear it out in frust
ration. Just look at you, listen to you, Lord Clun, youre a passionate man, why pr
etend otherwise? She drew herself up to her full height and inquired, Would you fi
ght for me?
He spun around to stare at her from under black brows. What the devil?
If there were a rival for my affections, would you fight for me? She repeated.
What have you been up to here, Lady Elizabeth? Inciting duels?
During the fraught silence, she studied him. His face appeared chiseled from sto
ne, except for the pulsing muscles at the corners of his jaw. She hit a nerve, a
s shed hoped.
Its a hypothetical question but Id like your answer.
I would hypothetically tear the head off any fool brainless enough to sniff after
my betrothed. Is that satisfactory?
She smiled at him. Very. Mrs. Abeel always said possessiveness is a sure sign of
a mans affection.13
Oh, no! I will not play the lovesick suitor, I vow. He bit out the words, enunciat
ing them with harsh precision. He did that to intimidate her, as if his absurd b
ombast could sway her from her purpose. The man was sadly fuddled and in need of
her help. She stifled her chuckle just in time. No need to enrage him unnecessa
rily. It would rankle him to come around to her point of view, but she knew he w
ould. Eventually.
He gave her a filthy look and she watched him stomp out the door. Poor man. He w
as gruff, volatile and somehow so endearing.
Elizabeth believed with all her heart that she understood Lord Clun better than
he himself did. She never considered for a moment that she might be mistaken.

* * *

Despite his quelling words, Lady Elizabeths sirens smile affected Clun far more th
an he wished to acknowledge. It rattled through his eyes into his head and rever
berated down his spine to start an unholy clangor in his groin. He slapped his f
orehead and stomped out of the little cottage just in time.

Swans mate for life, she said, he snorted. Why did she have to bring up mating? If h
e hadnt beaten his hasty retreat, he wouldve divulged yet another sure sign of a m
ans affection: a display of happily-agitated man parts in protruding buckskins.
But the rumpus she stirred up was lust not love, he reassured himself as he stal
ked off. He had nothing to fear. If he stuck to his guns, she would come to appr
eciate the advantages of a rational marriage.

Chapter 8
In which the impasse continues with one minor development.

Tucked in the remote hill country of southwestern Shropshire, the village of Clu
n had existed as a market town since early Saxon history. After the Conquest, th
e first de Sayre Marcher lord founded another market town closer to his lands an
d castle but it couldnt compete with the established village. Later Lords Clun ac
commodated reality rather than lose money trying to impose their will upon it. T
hus, Clun village became the principal market town as far as Carreg Castle despi
te the inconvenience.
In modern times, the village supplied The Graces as well as smaller estates and
freeholds scattered in the area. The River Clun flowed placidly through its cent
er and on market day, the high street and the town square teemed with merchants,
tradesmen and local farmers pushing handcarts heaped with autumns final bounty.
Clun picked his way through the hubbub on Algernon. Hed just purchased two more r
ams of a new breed developed locally, named as yet only Clun Forest sheep. Roddy
was enthusiastic about them because they thrived on typical Shropshire pasturag
e and produced fine milk, wool and meat. The transaction concluded, Roddy direct
ed the shepherd to load the animals onto a cart for delivery to the home farm.
At a distance, Clun heard a breathy laugh he recognized instantly. His whole bod
y snapped to attention. He swept the market with battlefield eyes.
Lady Elizabeth patted a dairymans arm, as she put a small wedge of cheese into a
strange-looking, ruffled market bag. She gathered it into her hand and exclaimed
, I shall feast indeed, Mr. Madog, my thanks.
Madog nodded with a shy, delighted smile before the lady took her leave of him.
As usual, she was dressed in her too-short, too-snug homespun frock, still the d
airyman instinctively deferred to her. Other men, farmers and laborers, ogled th
e heedless minx as she sashayed down the street. She didnt notice Clun riding up
behind her.
He dismounted quietly, took a few steps to reach her and slipped his arm around
her waist to tug her hard against him. She yelped at his manhandling until she s
aw who it was.
He boxed her in between his body and Algernons side and rumbled low in her ear to
avoid attracting attention, Do you have any notion what could happen to a beauti
ful woman like you traipsing around the market alone, bartering poached game lik

e a fishwife?
You said I was beautiful, she said, distracted.
I state the obvious, Bess, dont fall to pieces.
No one calls me Bess, she murmured.
You dislike it?
Not when you say it. My mother was Elizabeth, too. The earl called her Bess so I
never was. She leaned back to look up at Clun as he stepped away from her. With o
ne hand, he took up the slack in Algernons reins and with the other he gripped he
r elbow.
Now where was I? He asked himself as he towed her along like a recalcitrant child.
You were saying I was beautiful.
Dont be jingle-brained, weve already exhausted the subject. Ah, yes. I was ripping
up at you for flouncing around here on your own. I shudder to think what mightve
happened if I hadnt shown up at The Sundew when I did. Of all the heedless
I wasnt frightened.
Clun sputtered incoherently at her but finally managed to spit out. No more of th
at.
Of what, Clun?
Whatever the devil you were doing before bandits accosted you. No. More. Of. That
. Not if youre to be my wife. He could feel the crease between his brows deepen as
he frowned at her as fiercely as he was able. He stared at her to penetrate her
bemused distraction.
None of it worked.
So he stopped in his tracks, held her still and awaited her reply.
She flicked a glance up at him and sighed, I suppose youre right. A small grin grew
into a radiant smile. According to Mrs. Abeel, protectiveness is another sure si
gn of a mans affection.
Clun rolled his eyes and groaned. Ill make arrangements for you to stay at the Gra
ces. In the meantime, Ill send a maid to the cottage with supplies. And milk, he e
nunciated. He leaned close to give her a filthy look that made clear there was t
o be no more dairy-maiding for her either. It wont take long. A day at most.
Theres no room for staff in the cottage. Really, Clun, she cried in amusement. Dont b
e silly.
Silly. Clun now stopped his horse and his fiance in the middle of bustling Broad St
reet though they blocked traffic in both directions.
Everyone was only too happy to wait politely while his lordship and the pretty,
pixilated gypsy lady sorted things out. In fact, it promised to be grand enterta
inment. Those closest whispered over their shoulders to keep those farther back
informed of the couples open-air discussion.
Better yet, youll come now, Clun stated. Well find a ladys maid. Must see to that firs

t. Ill send a letter to your father and invite him to join us at his earliest con
venience. We must think of some suitable explanation for your presence here.
Thats not necessary, Clun.
Ill not rest easy until you are properly situated, my lady, he declared.
Low murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd though the couple remained obl
ivious.
You havent minded my situation since we first met, Elizabeth said. You knew who I wa
s yet you left me on my own at the cottage.
I most certainly did not, you goose! I spent cold hours under the stars on guard
that first night. Then I arranged for Roddy to put men to work nearby so youd com
e to no harm. Oh no! He held up a hand to silence her reply. Ill have no more of th
at signs of affection blather, by God, he barked. Bathing in the stream, will you. I
wouldnt let anyone bathe in that stream. Its only commonsense, you hear me? You c
ould catch your death! Or drown.
There were chuckles among the onlookers. The majority opinion whispered back and
forth was that his lordship must take the moonchild in hand, and not a moment t
oo soon, for a young lady who dances around cows would only come to harm otherwi
se.
Didnt bode well for their childrens good sense, others muttered darkly, but who we
re they to naysay?
Clun continued his lecture, And do you think firewood fairies left you that great
, heaping pile while you were trading my game in the village?
For an instant, Elizabeth looked nonplussed. I hadnt really thought about it.
Right. Youre coming to The Graces now. Well gather your things on the way.
But
He tried to bring her through the crowd surrounding them. Clun finally noticed t
hey were the chief amusement for a sizable gathering of carters, farmers and vil
lagers. Caught gawking, the audience feigned a fascination for the sky, their fe
et, or their fingernails. They looked anywhere else, in other words, rather than
meet Lord Cluns blackest gaze.
Not another word, my lady, he said. She smiled first at him and then at the people
surrounding them; they grinned back and parted to let the couple and horse pass
.
Pixilated mayhap, one villager whispered to another, but in a nice way.
His lordship led Elizabeth through the crowd and continued his harangue, I know y
ou relish frigid water but would a hot bath in a big copper tub be such a tormen
t? Wouldnt you enjoy a nice, warm, relaxing soak? You could wash your hair. Have
it combed through and dressed by a ladys maid.
She stumbled.
He couldnt help grinning like Beelzebub buying a prime soul on the cheap. If he c
ouldnt yet command her acquiescence, he would tempt her to it.
Youll have to endure a soft bed without any lumps, fluffy down pillows and clean l

inen sheets smelling of lav-en-der, he crooned, playing pied piper to his grubby,
tangle-haired lady.
She closed her eyes and sighed, Clean sheets.
And Mrs. Wirt would see your unmentionables are cleaned and pressed. Perhaps the
Fur-, er, the baroness has left some frocks that might suit in a pinch. That is,
if you wouldnt mind wearing something other than your rustic gowns.
She blinked. He watched the last of her resistance crumble at the mention of cle
an, pressed undergarments. He chortled triumphant.
Its too far to walk. Youll ride with me, if you please.
He lifted her to sit sidesaddle on Algernon and mounted effortlessly behind her,
his thighs bracketing her bottom. For good measure, he pulled her snug against
his body. He didnt have to, he just wanted to.
Eyes followed them as they crossed the bridge and left the village at a sedate w
alk.
Soon after, they reached the thatched cottage. He dismounted first and plucked h
er down. She hurried inside to gather her few belongings into the small portmant
eau shed brought. In no time, she stood ready to abandon the rustic dwelling and
its creatures for The Graces and its creature comforts.
Clun tied her bag behind the saddle and mounted first.
Your hand, he ordered, reaching down to Lady Elizabeth.

* * *

No point arguing, Elizabeth realized. The baron wouldve known it was only token r
esistance. She longed for mouse-less nights of sleep in lavender-scented linen s
heets.
Your hand, he repeated calmly from astride Algernon.
Elizabeth would normally bristle at such high-handedness. In this instance, she
did as she was told, placing her hand in his large, warm grasp and her foot on h
is in the stirrup. Truth to tell, his managing attitude made her feel cosseted,
though a bit roughly, by a strong, supremely confident man.
He lifted her up before him with heart-stopping ease. Her stomach fluttered when
she settled once again between his legs. To gather the reins in one hand, his b
rawny arms encircled her and brushed against the sides of her unbound breasts. I
t sent heat shimmering through her. His free hand came to rest on her waist and
she snuggled back against his chest. He nudged Algernons forward. They rode, she
thought, like a knight and his lady.
Approaching The Graces, she sat up tall in his arms. The elegant sprawl crowned
a rise that overlooked a meandering lake, its stream and a patchwork of fields d

elineated by hand-stacked stone walls. Who knew the Elysian Fields lay tucked aw
ay in Shropshire! Looking left and right, every vista enchanted her in the same
way Lord Clun had, by being handsome in a rugged, unfussy way. Reaching the tall
gatehouse, she tilted her head back till it bumped against Cluns shoulder. They
passed under the vaulted stone archway into the courtyard. She felt his rumble o
f amusement.
You approve, my lady? This he purred not an inch from her ear. His breath teased h
er skin. His appRrrove made her sigh. Oh, she approved. Wholeheartedly.
She twisted in his arms to look at him. Its breathtaking.
He blinked at her before looking away with a nod. After a moment, he replied, Ind
eed.
If this was a glimpse of their married life, she bubbled, it would be two parts
fairy tale to one part charmed reality.
By the front door, a footman took Algernons bridle while his lordship dismounted.
Clun grinned up at her, lifted her and let her slide down his solid body in sca
ndalous fashion. To make matters worse, he held her much closer than propriety a
llowed for much, much longer than proper. All of which left her a bit wobbly. Sh
e closed her eyes, smelled his clean-male-scent-with-horse-top-note and teetered
. He steadied her, then chortled. She didnt know where to look and she certainly
couldnt help blushing to the tips of her ears.
Oh dear, he said. Ive made you blush. He drew her hand through his arm and led her to
the open door where the butler stood, his expression ever-so-slightly harried.
Elizabeth, this is Penfold. At Cluns introduction, she nodded and the head butler b
owed.
Your ladyship, I apologize that the entire staff is not here to greet you properl
y. I was not aware
Penfold, Clun cut in gently, my lady wants a hot bath more than a presentation of s
taff. Its been a rather venturesome journey for her.
Penfolds face relaxed by an infinitesimal degree. Very good, my lord.
Elizabeth sighed in relief. With so much to take in, shed forgotten how anxious s
he was for a tub of hot water, soap and a scrubbing flannel. That Clun remembere
d touched her.
Penfold quickly arranged with Mrs. Wirt to have the Gold bedchamber readied for
her ladyship. The housekeeper directed an upper maid to serve as Elizabeths inter
im ladys maid. Everyone had expected the baron to bring home his new bride someti
me after his own unexpected return, so these domestic tasks were performed witho
ut demur. His staff was also too well trained to look askance at Elizabeths unort
hodox appearance, lack of trunks or absence of personal servants.
When does her ladyship wish to meet the staff, my lord? Penfold asked.
Tomorrow should do, Clun replied for her and drew her inside.
Everywhere Elizabeth looked, the houses vaulted ceilings glowed in the fading lig
ht. The floors gleamed. Wood furniture glittered with carefully dusted gilt carv
ings, their upholstery suitably cheerful in the gracious, airy rooms she glimpse
d from the grand foyer.

Clun escorted her upstairs to the door of the baroness bedchamber. We dine early.
Will half-past-six allow you time?
Yes. Thank you.
Given a long soak, she might recuperate from the series of shocks she suffered s
o far that day. Most devastating was discovering that Lord Clun was quite agreea
ble when not beastly and disobliging.
His lordship lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist before letting h
er float into the bedchamber. Add that shock to the rest. She was thoroughly und
one by the barons bold gesture. She hadnt realized how thrilling skin-to-skin cont
act could be until the moment his bare fingers grasped her ungloved hand and he
pressed his lips so intimately against the thin skin of her wrist. No wonder Soc
iety required women to wear gloves it kept them safe from temptation.
The Gold bedchamber consisted of a suite of rooms that included a lovely bedroom
, a prettily appointed sitting room and a dressing room with an enclosed Bramah
water closet. Curious, she lifted the hardwood top of the cabinet and spied a fl
oral transferware porcelain bowl within. (Shed never used one. Only the earls suit
e had a flushing water closet on Damogan Square.) Overhead on the wall was its c
istern. Curious, she pulled the cistern chain and a swirl of water rinsed the bo
wl and drained through a valve that slid shut. Ingenious but too complicated to
ever replace the chamber pot. Such a pity.
She continued her exploration. Beyond the first dressing room lay another. She c
racked open the door and peeked inside before entering. A dress uniform of the R
oyal Horse Guards Blue hung in a wardrobe, the clean, blue wool jacket gleamed w
ith braid, buttons and trim. On the floor stood a pair of black, over-the-knee r
iding boots shined to a high gloss, and on a tall chest of drawers sat a gilt em
bossed helmet with thick crest of black bear fur nestled in a specially construc
ted bandbox. Displayed on top of a low cabinet were a saber sheathed in its scab
bard with sash, black gauntlet style leather riding gloves as well as other para
phernalia.
The top drawer of the dresser held numerous small presentation boxes. She opened
one and found a round silver coin-style medal on a red and blue striped ribbon.
The Prince Regents profile graced the obverse; on its reverse, Wellington arched o
ver a winged figure of Victory, and at her feet the word Waterloo. Another was a g
old cross with a proud lion in its center suspended from a broad crimson ribbon
with blue. There were more such boxes that she didnt open. She also found folded,
yellowing newspaper clippings. The first she read astonished her.
The closed door at the far end of this dressing room beckoned. It opened to the
barons bedroom, she presumed. She tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. Did s
he dare explore farther out than beyond the pale?
Marriage, dear, Mrs. Abeel had often observed, is a wondrous effective sanitizer.
Elizabeth turned the knob and swung the door wide. She walked into the spacious,
well-furnished bedchamber. It faced east to the entry arch. The room had a fire
place before which sprawled a gruesome bearskin rug with a great head and huge c
urved claws. Upon closer inspection, the bears ferocious expression resembled Clu
ns on any number of occasions. The canopied baronial bedstead sprawled on the oth
er side of the room.
She explored the less intimate side of the barons bedchamber. Two comfortable cha
irs flanked the fireplace and bearskin rug. In pride of place on the wood mantle
sat an elegant Vulliamy clock with classical figures done in pale unglazed Derb
y porcelain. It was a surprisingly delicate timepiece for such a big, brusque ma

n. She sat at his handsome, ebonized writing table and lost herself in thought.
When she heard a maid direct a troop of footmen bearing a large hip bath and buc
kets of hot water into her chamber, she rushed from his room, anxious to luxuria
te in her piping hot bath.
The maid helped her undress. The peculiarity of her homely frock and the dearth
of appropriate gowns and accoutrements embarrassed Elizabeth, but One never expla
ins oneself to servants. It only leads to mischief, as her mentor often said.
Elizabeth slipped gratefully into the bath. After weeks of washing with a mobcap
, a tub full of hot water nearly made her swoon. She soaked blissfully then scru
bbed herself with soap. The maid rubbed her dry till her skin tingled and combed
her wet hair carefully. Wrapped in a borrowed dressing gown, she lay down on th
e bed to rest until the maid returned to dress her for dinner.
What to wear?
There were no derelict gowns in the dressing room. Her other witchs frock would h
ave to do. Clun would understand. At least her lilac gloves were brushed clean a
nd presentable.
Almost immediately, Elizabeth grew restless. And curious. She snuck once again t
hrough both dressing rooms to his door, leaned close and, hearing nothing on the
other side, quietly turned the brass knob. In the shadowy room, a merry wood fi
re burned in the fireplace grate, making a cheery sound. The usual coal fire had
no such homey charm. She stopped in her tracks.
Before the fire sprawled Lord Clun asleep on the bearskin rug. His head rested b
eside the bears snarling, glassy-eyed head. He wore a rumpled linen shirt, bucksk
in breeches, no boots, just stockings.
Elizabeth could only stare. Her eyes swept down his broad back and lingered on t
he swell of his rump, which shed already studied while he chopped wood. His shoul
ders were round as cannonballs; his arms bulged with muscle. All of him was cast
into high relief by firelight and shadow.
Large as he was, he was exquisite in his way, too. In profile, his thick, black
brow arched low over his closed eye, while a delicate arc of black lashes curved
in the opposite direction on his cheek. His nose had a clean, classical angle w
ith the hood of his nostril finely sculpted. His jaw was firm and square. And hi
s lips recalled the Greek and Roman busts everyone loved to collect and display
in their houses. As elegant as he appeared in repose, he was still a great beast
of a man, reposing on another elementally powerful creature.
She should have crept from the room immediately She didnt. Her own animal instinc
t started howling at her. Touch the beast! Pet him!
Rather than ignore the temptation, his sleeping form drew her near until her toe
s felt the tickle of the bears rough golden brown fur. She knelt down. His back w
as broad and inviting.
I mustnt.
He slept deeply. She ran a hand softly down from his shoulder to the dip in his
lower back.
I really mustnt.
She did it again. He didnt stir.

Oh, wheres the harm?

In one motion, she slid over him. Carefully, she settled herself onto his wide b
ack and reclined fully on him just as he reclined on the bear. It was wonderful.
His body was warm as a teapot.
He stirred soon after she was situated comfortably, but he didnt awaken fully jus
t then.

Chapter 9
In which the beast awakes.

After seeing Lady Elizabeth to her rooms, Clun gave thanks for the ease with whi
ch he brought his fiance home to The Graces. It couldve gone badly. The lady mightv
e balked at the last minute. Or reacted oddly when Penfold assumed they were mar
ried. Staff mightve asked awkward questions. Instead she was safely tucked away i
n the baroness suite adjoining his, taking a bath, for Gods sake. Lustful visions
of that bath wouldve tortured him had he not been too exhausted to think about it
. Inappropriate dreams would likely blight his napping mind, but there was littl
e he could do about that. He stalked into his room disgusted with his lack of se
lf-control.
He unwound his stock, unbuttoned and shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat and
used a jack to pry off his boots. Country attire was much more comfortable than
the closely tailored cutaway coats, waistcoats and form-fitting pantaloons and b
reeches his valet Fewings shamed him into wearing as he ought in Town. Hed only jus
t sent word to recall Fewings to The Graces. So Clun was a free, unfettered and
slightly rumpled country gentleman until his mans man arrived in a few days to re
establish sartorial order.
A fire blazed and the vast bearskin rug of his childhood beckoned.
Hed received the ferocious floor covering from his father as a Christmas present
when he was eight years old. It was the only gift he ever received from that qua
rter as far as he knew. He received it only because a footman new to the castle
had informed him that a trunk addressed to him arrived from Lord Clun in London.
The accompanying note explained it was a grizzly bear skin from the Canadian wi
lderness. He had the trunk brought to his room immediately, where he and the foo
tman opened it and laid the rug out. The great monsters head was frozen mid-snarl
and its clawed paws stretched impossibly wide. It was on his floor and he was o
n it before the baroness caught wind of it.
She was displeased when she did.
As a boy, hed wondered if the baron had sent other gifts that his mother spirited
off and disposed of without his knowledge. His question was answered when she s
acked the footman and sent him off without a character the following day. A week
shy, Roddy observed, of Boxing Day and his year-end gift.
With Roddys help, he himself had made good as best he could by giving the hapless
footman the balance of his quarterly allowance and an enthusiastic letter of re

commendation from the Hon. Wm. Tyler de Sayre. (Their tutor transcribed it into
an adults hand.)
Young Williams thank-you note to his father was their only correspondence. In it,
he expressed sincere delight with his bear and wished his lordship a happy, hea
lthy New Year. As a precaution, he took the letter to Cook, who posted it for hi
m in the village on her fortnightly half day off.
The boy took to lying on the monster, resting his head on its head. He whispered
many confidences into the bears ears, knowing it would guard his secrets fiercel
y from all snoopers. Before going off to Eton, he bundled it up and removed it t
o The Graces for safekeeping.
Two decades later, Roddy saw it placed in the baronial bedchamber as soon as Clu
n returned. It smelled of cedar and fresh air. It was good to see his old friend
just as he remembered him, or rather, almost as he remembered him. Though well
kept, his bear had shrunk with the passage of time and in the eyes of a mature m
an. Clun marveled how, as a child, the rug had been a vast silver-tipped sea of
golden brown fur. Hed grown into a large man himself since then. Now, the grizzly
bear fit him more proportionately.
Happily, one thing hadnt changed. He fell asleep as soon as he settled down.

It was afternoon judging by the height of the sun. Trees cast dappled shadows on
the stream. Clun stood transfixed by what or rather, who he saw. Most of him wa
s transfixed. What wasnt grew taut and heavy in his buckskins. She floated in the
water on her back, her eyes closed, arms outstretched. Her pale skin glowed in
the dark, cool water. Between her long, lean legs, dark curls barely broke the s
urface. Water lapped between her full breasts and turned her nipples into ripe b
erries.
Clun kicked off his boots, stripped his shirt over his head, fumbled with the bu
ttons on the falls of his breeches and shucked them and his small clothes. All o
f it flew off him. He stepped into the water cautiously and bit his lip to keep
from gasping at the cold. Moving stealthily, he sank into the quiet pool, now ba
rely feeling the water climb up his thighs.
A cool rush ran down his back between his shoulder blades when he slid under the
waters surface. Another stroke and another cool ripple of water flowed down his
back.
He touched her.
She gasped and righted herself to stand shoulder deep, her green eyes wide. She
met his gaze and smiled. Without a word, he turned and she slipped her arms arou
nd his neck and rode his back as he floated into the streams current.

Almost immediately, some damn thing barged into his slumbering mind. Some naggin
g awareness insisted there was more to this particular dream. It had unusual hef
t.
At her small sigh, all his senses blared reveille and jerked him into full consc

iousness.
Are you awake, Clun? He froze and squeezed his eyes shut. This is rather delightful
, she murmured close to his ear.
For you, perhaps.
Are you uncomfortable?
Id prefer to be belly up, he said, hoping to frighten her off. But no.
Why?
Only a maiden would ask that. Let me up, Elizabeth.
Were betrothed, Clun.
But not yet married, he retorted. She settled herself on top of him more fully ins
tead. When he peeked over his shoulder, he found her regarding him, resting her
chin on stacked hands on his shoulder blade.
Why are you letting me do this if you disapprove? She teased.
How was I to prevent it? You climbed on me while I slept. He dared not reveal how
well he liked her lounging on him, even if she interrupted what promised to be a
nother arousing bathing siren dream.
Wait.
Only an idiot would mourn a dream when the very real breasts of its inspiration
pressed against his back. He instantly imagined her more pleasurably arranged: f
ace to face, her lips in easy reach of his mouth, her hips cradling his erection
, her breasts against his chest where he could appreciate them properly. Fortuna
tely for her, she pinned him face down. (Though his burgeoning cock-stand might
start ratcheting his hips off the floor at any moment.)
What brings you here, Bess?
Curiosity. I like to open closed doors. Do you object?
I do, he said over his shoulder.
I wonder what this would this feel like the other way around?
What other way around? he asked, now alarmed.
How would it feel if you rested on me, she explained.
No, Bess. Beyond the pale. He turned his face away, grumbling about infernal, curi
ous females. She slid off his back to lie on her side next to him. She waited. H
e remained on his belly and turned his head to watch her.
Arent you the least bit curious?
No, he lied.
You dont have to do anything, just let me feel the weight of you. Thats all.
That is all you say? Again, no.

Youre being silly.

No, Im not. You are being difficult. He rolled on his side to mirror her insouciant
pose, his head in hand on bent arm. I shouldnt have let you lounge on me. See wha
t my tolerance achieves? Blood pounded in martial cadence on its march to invade
and occupy his defenseless netherlands.
This distracted him but not for long. With a jerk far stronger than he couldve an
ticipated, she grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him to her. Momentum landed h
im on her and rolled her onto her back with an Oof!
He stared down at her from inches away. Her green eyes had a corona of gold near
the irises and tapestry threads of blue. Those eyes and her smile wreaked havoc
on his gentlemanly restraint. He could feel it snapping like fine strands of a
violin string being tuned too tight. He flailed for a moment trying to find a ha
ndhold that didnt involve soft breast tissue.
She squeezed out, My, you are a solid man.
He hoped she wasnt referring to his state of excitement.
Let me up, Bess!
Finally, he braced his hands on the floor and pushed up to put distance between
them. Her green eyes had dilated nearly to black. Her lips parted. A flush crept
up her cheeks. She held him and he couldnt wouldnt remove himself.
Oh Clun! This is
He tensed, anticipating a complaint.
Scandalous, she finished with a happy sigh. Her hands slid up his ribs in a slow c
aress.
Oh, hell. He rolled over with her and now she lay upon his chest with their legs a
ll a-tangle. She huffed a little laugh down at him.
He was hard, she was soft and he wouldve liked nothing better than to pleasure th
is woman before the fire for as long as the estate had firewood. She lowered her
mouth to kiss him and he waited, his breath caught in his lungs as she descende
d in torturous increments.
The dainty clock on the mantle began to strike the hour: one, two, three, fourHis
lust-clotted brain functioned far more slowly than the parts of him now over-su
pplied with blood. He was only beginning to consider how best to relieve her of
the rumpled dressing gown as the clock chimed five and six then stilled.
The maid, oh dear, she gasped and scrambled off his body, all knees and elbows. He
grunted in pain. I told her to dress me at six oclock!
And with that she disappeared through the communicating dressing room doorway.
Rrrrgh!

* * *

Elizabeths temporary ladys maid at The Graces helped slip one of the baroness forgo
tten dresses over Elizabeths freshly laundered chemise, stays and fine flannel pe
tticoat and did a credible job dressing Elizabeths hair in a braided bun. The gow
ns rose color was unobjectionable. It was too short, of course, and a bit loose i
n the bodice, a relief from her skimpier theatrical frocks. She put on her only
pair of gloves. Lilac with rose was unfortunate. Still, she was far more present
able than she had been to date.
She descended the stairs on her own and Penfold showed her to the dining room. C
lun lounged at the head of the table and leapt to his feet when she entered the
candlelit room. At each end of the long table was a cover, a large silver candel
abrum bristling with candles to illuminate it and a footman ready to serve. Ten
pairs of chairs separated Clun at the head of the table from her place at the fo
ot. She moved there and stood.
Good evening, my lady, the baron said with a warm rumble in his voice that she qui
te liked to hear.
My lord, she replied. Their voices echoed.
He held out his hand to her and smiled; he wished her to sit at his immediate ri
ght. Both footman sprang to relocate her table setting. When she approached him,
Clun pulled her chair out and seated her himself. When he sat, he extended his
bare right hand to her, palm up. She looked first at his hand, then at him, slip
ped off her lilac gloves they were about to dine anyway and lay her bare hand in
his.
Did you enjoy your afternoon, my lady? His thumb made gentle circles around her kn
uckles.
Very much.
And how did you to pass the time? He asked with feigned innocence.
She slanted a look at the footmen.
The devil would have his fun, would he? So be it.
I explored The Graces, she said, perfectly nonchalant. There are so many delightful
surprises.
And you are a curious puss by nature, are you not?
Very. Its my besetting sin.
Well, sin or no, I approve. By all means, make yourself at home anywhere, my lady
. His grin almost made her giggle, but she tamped it down.
In my explorations, I came across a drawer full of medals. His thumb stilled.
Did you, the baron said, his playful look gone and in its place a guarded reserve.
They handed out a few, Lady Elizabeth.
There were quite a few more than just a few. You fought in the Household Cavalry.
With the Blues, as I recall. Why didnt you tell me you were one of the Four Hors
emen of the Apocalypse? Cluns expression stiffened. She persisted, You were very he

roic.
We did our duty and came back no worse for the wear. Well, three of us came back
mostly unharmed. For Jem Maubrey it was a close run thing, as Wellington would s
ay.
And now youre home to start your peaceful life.
I suspect life with you will be no such thing.
I am not as incorrigible as all that, my lord. I know how to behave.
Or not, he murmured.
She enjoyed the soft, amused look now back in his expression. Hed enjoyed misbeha
ving on the bearskin rug as much as she had.
Under his drugging influence, it would be easy to forget oneself before the staf
f, so well trained and unobtrusive were they. Elizabeth slowly withdrew her hand
and smiled at Clun as the first course was set before her. The footmen kept gla
sses replenished, whisked courses away and held serving dishes at just the dista
nce and height she needed. With the last, dessert course, Penfold brought wine t
o the table for the baron. The butler excused himself to stir the fire in the lib
rary and ready tea for her ladyship. Like her fathers household staff, Cluns army o
f servants were numerous and nearly invisible, the sign of a well-run establishm
ent and a testament to the quality of his butler and housekeeper. After sampling
the pudding, she excused herself to leave Clun to his port.
Shed only just settled on a settee in the library when Clun joined her, glass of
port in hand. He sat with her and arranged himself comfortably. In a companionab
le silence, she poured tea for herself. There was much to discuss, but she decid
ed to wait until morning.
For poor Clun, it was the calm before the storm.

Chapter 10
In which our heroine stops our heros heart with three little words.

Elizabeth was not comfortable with passivity. For years, shed tried to develop a
lady-like capacity for it, working diligently to find reserves of patience withi
n and cultivate them. With no success. She simply could not let be what would be
. Mrs. Abeel was less than helpful in this aspect of her upbringing. She correct
ed Elizabeth obliquely saying, For Gods sake, child, do as I say not as I do. We m
ustnt both alarm the earl.
Like her strong-minded mentor, Elizabeth was naturally industrious when assistin
g others, whether asked or not. Where she saw a need, it was her habit to addres
s it. This made her difficult to dissuade when being helpful and impossible to det
er when she encountered resistance. She admitted to this tendency because she di
d not see it as a fault the way others did.

Elizabeth wisely confined her efforts to her circle of close friends and three t
hings saved her from being shunned by them: first, was the absolute purity of he
r intentions; second, were the undeniably happy outcomes she often engineered wi
th her helpfulness; and third, was the fact that she had none of the characteristi
cs of a know-all busybody like her friend Lady Jane Babcock who, though pure of
heart and dear with friends, was nevertheless considered conceited, judgmental a
nd condescending. Rather, Elizabeth was an intelligent, highly perceptive listen
er who seemed to intuit what others wished but never dared say aloud. Guided by
her perception, she worked tirelessly to help those she loved attain their heart
s desires.
After beneficiaries of her efforts recovered from their exasperation and/or mort
ification, they were usually grateful for her interventions on their behalf. Con
stance eventually thanked her for thrusting Viscount Speare at her repeatedly.
Early on, Elizabeths interference was most unwelcome. At any number of balls and
at Elizabeths urging, the dashing viscount and Constance sheepishly acknowledged
each other, blushed, stammered, chuckled weakly about her clumsy matchmaking the
n avoided one another. Gratitude came only after the two were forced to speak at
length when Elizabeth accidentally-on-purpose locked them in the butlers pantry
during an opera recital at No. 1 Damogan Square.
No one heard the captives cries for help over the continental sopranos voluble war
bling. So Lord Speare climbed out, dangled and dropped from the narrow pantry wi
ndow to secure Constances freedom. In the process, he won the blonde beautys heart
just as Elizabeth planned.
For the most part, that is.
Elizabeth couldnt have anticipated that the viscount would risk breaking his neck
to save Constance from the pantry. It was a thirteen-foot drop to the ground, f
or heavens sake, and Elizabeth wasnt omniscient.
Fortunately, Lord Speare only limped for a week or two and he did that anestheti
zed by new love. All the while, he lapped up Constances homemade nostrums, solici
tude and admiration of his fortitude. So it worked out nicely in the end. The vi
scount wasnt permanently crippled and the two were madly in love.
In sum, Elizabeth made every effort to contribute to the happiness of those she
loved and almost always succeeded. Her only failure to date involved her father.
She never penetrated his reserve or relieved his melancholy. With Mrs. Abeel to
raise her, the earl had never considered remarriage, preferring solitude to a s
econd wife. Elizabeth made any number of attempts to make her father happy with
her while growing up, but she learned at an early age to let him find comfort in
the etymology of the English language.
Between Mrs. Abeel and Lady Petra, Elizabeth managed to have a successful court
presentation and first Season. The earl declared himself satisfied. The following
year, Mrs. Abeel fell ill and died in January. Elizabeth mourned her as a parent
, though the anxious earl pointed out Elizabeth might participate in the latter
part of the Season. Propriety required only four weeks half-mourning for a relat
ion twice removed. As always, Elizabeth did as her heart dictated. She missed th
e Season.
In her nineteenth year, Elizabeth stopped trying to please the earl. It seemed o
nly marrying her off would gratify him so she didnt rail against her betrothal at
the end of her belated second Season. That is, she didnt object until the baron
cropped up out of nowhere the following year and made known by post that he woul
d soon fetch her away. By then, the earl said, it was much too late to take exce
ption to the scheme.

So she ran away. And ran into the only other impossible man shed ever met, her be
trothed.
Lord Clun had potential if only he were not so awfully pessimistic. She sensed a
mutual connection deeper than attraction between them. It felt like two puzzle
pieces coming together. Each had an essential something the other needed. She we
lcomed this. Clun did not, which baffled her. She was determined to help him.
To do that, Elizabeth knew she must speak with Lady Clun.

* * *

The baron sat in the morning room with a substantial breakfast heaped on his pla
te when Elizabeth entered. She looked dewy fresh, with laughter on her lips and
mischief in her eyes. All he could do was stand and gawp.
It took a moment to find his voice, Elizabeth.
Good morning, Clun.
May I? He came to her side, took up a plate and accompanied her along the sideboar
d arrayed with country fare: kippers, sausage, beef, bacon, porridge, sweet buns
, toasted bread, poached eggs and sheeps cheese. As she pointed to things she wis
hed to eat, he put them on the plate he held for her. He leaned too close, he co
uldnt help it. She drew him like a bee to clover.
No, not a diligent little bee, Clun felt more like a big, stupid, self-destructi
ve moth, a moth moreover that knew better than to come too close but could not s
top himself. Her skin appeared to be lit from within and she smelled of fresh ai
r, clean linens and something else pretty and feminine. He sighed.
Do I take too long in choosing, Clun?
What? No. I was thinking how lovely, he hesitated, the day is and wondered how I mi
ght entertain you.
I recall that the family seat is a castle in Wales, is it far from here? She point
ed to sausage, toasted bread and finally the poached eggs. He followed her, taki
ng up what she desired. He spooned the egg with great care so as not to break it
s yolk.
Not far, a few miles across the border. He put her plate at the seat to his right
and frowned at the nearest footman to keep him against the wall. Then Clun held
out Elizabeths chair to seat her himself.
Why dont you live at the castle? She slipped her gloves off.
The cowed footman filled her teacup only after receiving Cluns nod.
My mother lives there. Clun sat and snapped his napkin into his lap. He prayed she
would start eating and cork up further questions with egg, sausage or toast. An

ything.
She cut and pierced a piece of sausage with her fork and knife. Oh? Is there a do
wer house on the estate?
Yes, and another in Ludlow. She prefers to bli-inhabit the castle. He almost said
blight the castle. That would require explanation, which he was unwilling to pro
vide. He wanted to enjoy his meal in peace. Do try the sausage. Its best when hot.
She put her utensils down instead. You prefer The Graces?
I do. He glared at the bit of sausage on her fork now resting uselessly on her pla
te.
Why? She tucked both hands in her lap and leaned toward him to await his explanati
on.
He thought about how much distance he liked to maintain from the Fury at all tim
es ten miles being the barest minimum, the other side of the channel in the mids
t of war with Imperial France being closer to ideal but said, Parts of the castle
were built in the thirteenth century. Say, Im famished, arent you? Do eat. Well ch
at later. So much later, he prayed, as to be, well, never.
I take it the doorways are low and stairways narrow.
Among other things, yes. He said. My ancestors were shorter. He plugged his own gob
with something and chewed.
Whereas The Graces has high ceilings and lovely, open spaces, she said and took up
her knife and fork-with-sausage.
Clun pointed to his mouth with his empty fork to indicate Cant talk like a savage
with mouth full, must wait till Ive swallowed.
He chewed slowly.
Surely, shed eat something if he took his time. But no. She waited. He swallowed
his thoroughly masticated cud even though it was a cheek full of dried husks by
the time it went rasping down his throat. He croaked, The Graces is in more comfo
rtable proportions, yes. With modern conveniences.
Its a lovely home, so happily situated and designed. Still, Id like to visit the ca
stle and meet your mother, she said, finally nipping the tidbit daintily off her
fork.
Meet your mother.
Cluns heart stopped. He felt his heart muscle clench like a fist in his chest as
she uttered those last three words. Nor was he able to breathe. So, his lungs mu
stve collapsed from the shock as well. He wondered how long it would take for the
rest of his vital organs to follow suit and shut off so he could fall to the fl
oor insensible and die in peace.
She sipped her tea and dabbed her lips with her linen napkin before she said, It
will be awkward, I grant you, to meet her wearing her cast-off clothes. It canno
t be helped. I pray that she has a sense of humor.
Finally, his chest eased enough for him to breathe. First, he dismissed the foot
men from the room and had them close the door on their way out.

After we wed, we may wish to travel, he replied carefully. Then youll want time to s
ettle in here and in London and to become accustomed to married life, dont you th
ink? Perhaps youll see her sometime afterward.
Looong afterward. At her wake perhaps.
Dont be silly. It would be better to make Lady Cluns acquaintance soon so we may di
spense with the usual formalities. Given the awkward circumstances, for which I
take full responsibility, she added magnanimously, a formal wedding invitation is
quite out of the question.
Cluns heart now overcompensated for its previous inactivity and pumped gallons of
blood into his head, causing a dangerous throbbing pressure behind his eyes. Th
ere was no anticipating the trouble that would come of a prenuptial meeting, par
ticularly if the Fury disliked her.
Im not convinced thats a good idea.
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. In what way could it be a bad idea, Clun?
Through the pounding in his ears and the throbbing behind his eyes, he neverthel
ess sensed his betrothed digging in her slim little heels and panicked. Seeing h
er mulish expression, he renewed his effort to avert a prenuptial introduction.
It would be a bad idea in innumerable ways.
Oh? Well, if you wont, perhaps
You mustnt dash off to introduce yourself willy-nilly to my mother, Bess, he comman
ded. He massaged his temples. If only he could kiss away her skepticism. Dread n
ow warred with an equally alarming, far baser inclination to sweep the table cle
ar and have at her. At least that might distract her from her current line of qu
estioning.
Mustnt I?
Absolutely not. Promise me you wont call on the baroness. You dont know her.
And how will I, if we never meet?
Promise me, Bess. Please.
She regarded him, clearly amused by his agitation. Very well, I promise, so long
as you promise to take me to the castle and introduce us yourself. Really, Clun,
I cant think why Id offend her.
That is not my concern.
Then what is?
He brushed aside her question in the same irritating manner she avoided any numb
er of his by offering an airy Its a long story, Bess. Changing the subject, he teas
ed, Am I to understand that you would marry me for my castle?
Perhaps I would, if I were permitted to see it.
There was a knock on the door.
Come, Clun said.

Tyler Rodwell appeared in the doorway of the morning room and cleared his throat
.
Roddy, come in. Youve met my lady.
Your servant. Roddy bowed and smiled. She smiled back much too warmly, in Cluns opi
nion. Then again, Roddy was the damned charmer in the family. Perhaps he could d
issuade Elizabeth from seeking out Lady Clun.
Lady Elizabeth wishes to see the castle and meet my mother, the baron said evenly.
Much to Roddys credit, he didnt flinch, gasp, whistle or grimace when he heard the
news. He replied, Unfortunately, her ladyship is not at home. The baroness has g
one to visit friends or so she told her staff before leaving a few days ago.
What a shame, his lordship said, careful not to crow. All the same, I might as well
take Lady Elizabeth to see the old pile today.
Would you like the gig or a carriage?
Bess?
Elizabeth gave Clun a brilliant smile, The gig. The day is fair and I would like
to see more of the countryside.
The baron smiled back, happy to make her happy and utterly giddy the Gorgon14 wa
s gone.

* * *

Elizabeth admired Cluns skill handling the ribbons. The bay gelding harnessed bet
ween the gigs limbers was fresh and feisty when the baron snapped the reins to se
nd the gig smartly around the courtyard, through the Triumphal Entry and on the
way to Wales. He handled the horse with finesse, giving him his head but keeping
his high spirits in check.
Although in gloves, Lord Cluns hands captivated her. He had very attractive, capa
ble-looking hands. They were large and elegantly proportioned, like the rest of
him, with long, strong fingers. The pronounced, well-rounded muscularity at the
base of his thumbs and the heels of his palms resembled the rest of the man. Mor
e unnerving, she knew how those hands felt when he guided her, or lifted her or
let them rest on her waist. She liked his hands, especially when they handled he
r.
She sat pressed against him, there being precious little room left for her on th
e seat. Tucked at his side, she was happy to share his warmth. The day was fair
with few clouds. Roddy predicted rain by nightfall, given the dank chill in the
air, so it would be a brief visit.
Wind teased at her borrowed bonnet. It was a simple chip straw affair with a gin
gham ribbon that lent it dash when tied beneath her chin just so. The wind also
tossed the ends of Cluns simply-tied neckcloth and tousled his over-long black ha

ir beneath the low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat he wore.

They traveled on a road that climbed gradually to a low rise. From this vantage
point, she saw green, undulating fields traversed by a long, sinuous grassy moun
d. The embankment stretched north to south as far as the eye could see.
They passed through it at a low notch. Along the west side of the ancient earthw
ork ran a deep depression, which made it taller on that side.
What an odd ditch that was.
Its part of Offas Dyke.
King Offa of Mercia?
Had the thing dug and piled up along his border to keep the Welsh out. Most of my
de Sayre ancestors married Welsh nobility.
So here you are anyway, she teased.
Yes, it took us, what, he paused to calculate, five centuries, but weve had the last
laugh on old King Offa.
Hard to imagine anyone thinking a ditch and berm could keep your people out.
Recall we were shorter then, he smiled at her, and the embankment taller.
Nevertheless.
Just so, he chuckled. They exchanged smiles.
Have you a Welsh name?
I answer to Gwilym, also Guillaume in French and William, he replied. Which will yo
u use?
Hmm, I prefer William.
And you, my lady?
Youve already made free with my name and taken further liberties giving me a pet n
ame.
Would you rather I give you another, say, Eliza, Betsy or Beth?
Call me Bess when you are happy with me, she said and peeped at him beyond the bri
m of her bonnet. Elizabeth when vexed and my lady will do when youre in a teasing mo
od.
Very well, he said, my lady.

Chapter 11
In which our heroine is enchanted by a giant in a castle.

Time flew by as they teased and flirted on their way west. Before Elizabeth knew
it, Lord Clun urged the bay on a long uphill grade toward a crenelated castle t
hat crowned an imposing ridge. They approached from the northeast where the cast
les walls rose above a sheer rock face that defied all comers. The road circled a
round this daunting medieval faade, past the largest tower to make a final ascent
into the castles landscaped grounds facing the south.
This prospect captivated Elizabeth. The castles foundation stood above a series o
f terraced flower gardens with sculpted yews marching downhill. Birds sang and f
litted while the seasons last butterflies winked with bright flashes of color in
the air.
Oh my.
The baron leaned forward to peek around her bonnet as she gazed right and left i
n delight. He examined her so closely it unsettled her. She never imagined he si
mply enjoyed watching her eyes dance with pleasure.

* * *

Clun followed the road to the castles formal entrance, a deep-set, Norman doorway
with concentric arches sculpted from a single, massive slab of stone incised wi
th zigzag patterns. Only the most prosperous in the thirteenth century could aff
ord such craftsmanship. And Carreg Castle made abundantly clear that de Sayres h
ad prospered from the start.
To Clun, it merely reminded him to duck under the lowest archways or risk cracki
ng his forehead.
He tied off the horses leads and leapt from the gig to help Elizabeth disembark.
He grasped her waist, plucked her up without effort and gently returned her to e
arth flustered. Clun waited while she fluffed and straightened her crumpled gown
. And he looked forward to crumpling her again on their return.
A footman trotted out to greet his lordship. Lady Clun is not at home, my lord, he
said. Shall I fetch ap Rhys?
No need, Peters, thank you. Have someone see to my horse and rig, will you? Well b
e leaving again this afternoon.
Clun took Elizabeth to the aviary first, knowing she would enjoy its exotic bird
s, though not for the reason the Fury did. His mother enjoyed her parrots and ma
caws because they could be taught to repeat what she said, as if seconding her o
pinions.
The aviary stood tucked into the castles foundation. From a distance, its framewo
rk looked like delicate filigree. As they approached it, the structure became a
gargantuan, glassed-in birdcage. He led her to its wrought iron and glass door a
nd bowed her inside. After securing the outer door, he opened an inner door and

warm air enveloped them.

Exotic trees with splayed, waxy green leaves arched high overhead. Squat, broadleaved fan palms and lace-like ferns grew in dense profusion. Somewhere in their
midst, a fountain played and plashed. Sunlight filtered through the foliage so
the air seemed to have a brilliant verdant cast. In the midst of this jungle, je
wel-bright parrots and macaws flickered from place to place. They took delight i
n climbing up and vaulting into the air from high branches strewn with ropes of
vine. Ear-piercing squawks and almost human calls punctuated the atmosphere.
The birds fascinated Elizabeth. Clun found them entertaining, too, though they s
creeched the Furys pet phrases in chilling approximations of his mothers voice.
Wretched creature! An iridescent blue with yellow belly scolded while flapping its
wings to settle on a perch. Go away!
Another commanded, Come back!
Wretched creature, another chanted before it groomed the lime green feathers on it
s back.
Horrid thing, a blue, red and yellow macaw called out. Bad boy!
Youre a pretty bird, a bright turquoise parrot screeched from a perch above Elizabe
ths head.
She watched the bird shimmy up the vine, fluffing its feathers in an arrogant di
splay of its finery and sighed, How very beautiful!
Indeed you are, Clun purred without thinking. With a start, he realized what hed sa
id. She hadnt heard him. His inadvertent bit of drivel passed unremarked, and he
shook off his momentary lapse into God-knows-what.
After the aviary, they walked to the formal garden. It was late in the season fo
r butterflies, but a hardy few still flitted among the last flowers.
Clun, this is heaven.
Hardly, he said thinking of his early life and the gothic horror usually in reside
nce. He watched Elizabeth as she took in the orderly yews, lined up like infantr
y in review.
She turned back to him. Dont move, she ordered. Theres a flutterby on you.
He stilled.
She pointed to his shoulder and he turned his head slightly to look. A bright ye
llow and blue butterfly slowly fanned its wings on his coat. After a moment, it
sailed into the air, winking away in the light.
Flutterby, my lady?
As a child, thats what
ong? What sense is there
mble a fly. Nor does one
tery, I suppose. I think
ely.

I called them. I couldnt say butterfly properly. Was I so wr

in calling that magical creature butterfly? It doesnt rese
associate it with butter unless you consider pollen but
butterfly is a misnomer, whereas flutterby suits it nic

Flutterby, he tested it and laughed. Pon my word, Bess, you are a treasure.

He gathered her in his arms for a rocking, affectionate hug of the variety Cook
provided. It was the only innocent physical thing he could think to do to demons
trate his delight with her. When not being obstreperous or over-curious, he had
to admit, she was a pleasant female to have on hand. He released her eventually,
as he knew he must.
Spying something on the ground, she bent down to look at an odd, dew-covered pin
k flower growing off the path, And what is this?
That little monster is the common sundew, he informed her. The sticky dew you see e
ntices insects so it may trap and eat the hapless. It prefers bogs but, with the
rain hereabouts, it grows where it will. My mother finds them fascinating.
Not surprising, he thought, if one knew the Fury, who enjoyed setting her own tr
aps. Luckily, Clun had grown too large too quickly for her to eat away at him wi
th her caustic clinginess.
But why dwell on gloomy topics? They were at the castle, the Fury was not, and t
heir day together had exceeded the barons most hopeful prognostics.
Elizabeth wandered down the path.
From a distance behind, he heard Dafydd ap Rhys call out, Lord Clun?
She turned back.
Clun said, Go on, Ill find you, Bess. Dont fall into any sundews. She smiled at him
and strolled out of sight. He wished he could bundle her behind a yew to make su
re the Furys familiar caught no glimpse of her.
Dont trouble yourself, ap Rhys, he called out to the castles de facto seneschal. Des
pite his hint and fervent desire, Clun was joined by the lanky Welshman.
Good day, your lordship. I only just heard you were here, ap Rhys apologized as he
bowed. Are you needing me?
Not at all. I wanted to see the castle. Ill be leaving shortly.
Ap Rhys looked down the path, reluctant to accept the implied dismissal.
That will be all, thank you. Clun said pointblank and blocked his view. Ap Rhys fi
nally bowed and turned back to leave as hed come, looking once over his shoulder.
Clun waited till he walked out of sight then strode down the path to find his fr
ee-ranging fiance.

* * *

It happened at the castle when Lord Clun said flutteRrrby and rocked her back and
forth in his arms, laughing. That was the precise moment Elizabeth knew she love
d William Tyler de Sayre.

It began with his laughter. His rumbling amusement flowed deep and dark, like oa
k sap honey. When he abandoned himself to mirth, his eyes screwed up, his brows
rose, his mouth, often a hard line of reproach, softened and curved up to reveal
white teeth. His laugh sounded sweet and delicious and, as it subsided, it thin
ned the way honey did when drawn from the honey pot. Even more enchanting was th
e lone dimple in his left cheek. It started deep with his hearty laugh and smoot
hed away as he cooed himself slowly back to a quiet, happy huffing.
Finally, he purred in his deep, rolling, Welch-infused voice, Oh, Bess dear, you
are a treasure.
DeaRrr he said, and tRreasuRrrre. The sentiment rolled down her spine with his Rrs.
Spoken with unalloyed affection, those few words melted her heart first. Then he
gathered her in his arms without warning and gave her an affectionate bear hug
as he rumbled. She stiffened in surprise, but he drew her up tight against him a
nyway and rocked her gently. He said nothing more; Elizabeth didnt mind.
In a heartbeat, the rest of her melted. Melted. Even her knees softened like but
ter in the sun and turned all creamy. Her spine began to dissolve next and she h
ad to throw her arms around his neck, just to keep herself upright on her feet.
This was, she realized, exactly how she wanted to feel in a mans embrace, like a
delightful surprise.
She tried to pull back and check his impertinence. He merely clucked, tucked her
head into the hollow below his jaw and chuckled till everything that had melted
formed a pool of heat low in her belly.
Flutterby it is, my lady.
FlutteRrrrby. Oh, good Lord.
All she could do was sigh and nod against him. She felt his heart beat and his l
aughter reverberate through her. Reluctantly, she moved away and bowed her head
rather than let him glimpse in her gaze all that she felt for him. The last thin
g she wanted to do was repel him with emotions he disdained. So she asked about
the odd flowers at her feet to distract him.
When one of the castles servants called to Clun, he let her wander off. In solitu
de, she regained her composure.
Afterward, Clun escorted her back to the castles main entry. He pointed out the o
riginal keep and its immense rag stones, now part of the larger structure. Insid
e, tapestries and medieval armaments hung on the great room walls. A fireplace t
all as the baron was a great, gaping, blackened maw surrounded by a hardwood mus
tache of a hearth. A delicate needlepoint fire screen did little to lessen the i
mpression of dark, infernal depths.
In the castles portrait gallery in the new Tudor-era wing, row upon row of de Sayre
s in deep, carved and gilt frames frowned down at them. The glowering men shared
Cluns coloring and features, dark hair, black, penetrating gazes, strong, straig
ht noses, firm jaws and mouths. Dour women stared from their separate frames. Th
e only portrait Elizabeth liked hung at the far end. This baron had a faint smil
e on his lips and softness about the eyes that differed from the haughty, impene
trable stares of the rest. He looked as though hed just heard a naughty joke or w
as about to tell one. This portrait reminded her most of the man at her side. Sh
ed seen that expression in life though it was fleeting.
Who is this?

William Powys Tyler de Sayre, the previous baron.

He looks happy.
He was dissipated rou so he knew how to enjoy himself.
Thats awful to say.
Couldnt help himself, or so Im told. He fathered me then went his merry way, Cluns to
ne was chilly.
Well, I like him, she said.
Which proves youre a lunatic.
Ignoring him, she asked, Where is your portrait?
Dont have one yet, takes forever. Ainsworths nearly out of his mind sitting for his
. His Grace suffers from a near fatal case of the fidgets. Hes making his wife si
t beside the artist so he wont look like a complete wretch for posterity.
Who will you commission?
Sir Thomas Lawrence, same as Ainsworth. Wellingtons sitting for him, too. Apparent
ly, hes found a flattering angle for the Iron Dukes great beak. Hes a miracle worke
r, in other words. Though hell have an easy time with you.
Me?
Look around, my lady. All these surly females married one or other de Sayre. Larg
est collection of Friday-faced beasts Ive ever laid eyes on. There has to be one
beauty among them. That is, if you can still manage a smile after were married.
Again, the gallows humor about marriage, Elizabeth said, blushing. She did not ack
nowledge Cluns compliment for fear hed disclaim it.
He led her from the gallery through low doorways to parlors, saloons and on thro
ugh much of the castle. He avoided the wing where the baroness rooms were.
Thats not all there is, but its everything of interest, he said to preempt her curio
sity.
Except your mother.
She is not here. Nor, I believe, is she of interest.
You are not close?
Ha! It sounded more like a bark than a laugh, and he answered, No. Not close.
Were your parents happy together?
Another bark. Not that I know of.
Care to elaborate?
Not in the least. Its time to return. Roddys rarely wrong about the weather. He offe
red his arm to her and she slipped her gloved hand into its crook. Over her hand
, he placed his own. In a gentler tone, he said, Dont let it trouble you, Bess. Th
at was their story. Ours is still to be written.

I am relieved to hear you say that.

Elizabeth found the return equally as enjoyable as the trip to the castle had be
en. In the slanting autumn light, everything stood out in golden, high relief. O
ffas Dyke cast a long shadow.
In good time, they reached The Graces. He drove the gig to the main door and hel
ped her down.
Ill have Cook delay dinner, he said.
No need. I can bathe and dress in time.
Clun looked grim and distracted when she promised punctuality so she excused her
self and hurried inside to make sure she was ready as promised.

* * *

God help him if she kept casually mentioning her intentions to bathe, Clun fumed
.
A mans heart could take only so many stresses before it sputtered to a complete s
top. And his generative organ, he also noted sourly, could take only so much unf
ulfilled over-stimulation before it was rendered permanently limp by frustration
.
He stomped in after her and made for the brandy decanter in the study. He needed
a calming nip and a frigid dousing before dinner.

Chapter 12
In which everything that can go pear-shaped does.

When Elizabeth formed an opinion on a subject, her opinion was firmly fixed inde
ed. Love, she knew, was a wholesome emotion that uplifted the spirit and nurture
d the soul of the person who loved as well as the person who was loved. Cluns stu
bborn refusal to contemplate the possibility of love baffled her.
Following their visit to the castle, they spent two days together in Clun villag
e and in the larger town of Ludlow. They laughed and joked easily back and forth
. Indeed, Clun continued to warm up to her, until without warning he cooled to t
he point of icing over. The cause of this sudden freeze remained obscure.

They had returned from their jaunt to Ludlow in high spirits and she suggested t
hey drive directly to the stable so she might say hello to Algernon.
Clun guided the gig to the stable entrance. A groom held the horse while the bar
on stepped down to help Elizabeth alight. Inside, they came upon Ted leaning ove
r the top stall board offering a carrot to the big gray.
When Clun cleared his throat, Ted jerked around. Carrots tumbled to the hay-stre
wn floor. The boy lurched off balance and wouldve fallen had not Clun caught him
up.
If Cook finds you feeding her carrots to Algernon, shell have your hide, the baron
warned.
Yes, my lord.
Unless youre doing it on my orders.
Teds head snapped up and the baron grinned.
Clun made sure Ted sat securely before bending down to retrieve the carrots. Hol
ding them out, he leaned on the board next to the boy and addressed him man-to-m
an, Hes a brute, isnt he?
Huge, the boy sighed. And so handsome.
And you like horses.
No, my lord, I love horses. Ted took one of the carrots from Cluns hand and held it
out to the horse. Algernon nibbled it daintily from his fingers. And then the n
ext.
We have that in common, you and I. But when I was your size, I rode a pony. Ted pu
lled a face. No scowls, boy. Clun leaned back to address Elizabeth, who watched in
wonder. See that? The scowling starts at birth with de Sayre men.
She laughed with him. Ted was not amused.
I must have your word that you will never enter Algernons stall on your own, Ted.
From now on, you will stand on the ground and hand carrots to him through the ga
ps. Is that clear?
Ted nodded, crestfallen.
Down you come. Clun looked at him and held out his hands. That scowl puts me in min
d of something I would discuss with your papa.
Ted eyed him uncertainly.
Come on, then, Clun said and plucked the boy from his perch and tucked him under a
n arm despite his squirming. A tutor, Ted, thats whats needed. Clun gave the helples
s boy a shake. Lessons.
But I want to learn horses!
And so you shall, on my word. Come, Elizabeth. He strode out of the stable to stan
d beside a deep wooden trough of water. Perhaps you should begin with swimming le
ssons.
No, my lord, please!

I am your uncle, Ted. And its my opinion you need lessons of some kind. Do you obj
ect to swimming lessons?
Yes!
Should we consult your papa?
Yes, the boy yelled louder and laughed.
Off we go then. Elizabeth, Clun called over his shoulder as he strode to the kitch
ens vestibule door, will you do the honors?
She hurried forward to open the door for the baron and slipped past him to open
the inner door. As Cook looked on, the baron brought his giggling load to the ce
nter of the floor and gently lowered the boy to his feet. Fetch your papa from th
e estates office, young Ted. The boy ran down the hall relaying the barons summons
in a high-pitched half-squeal.
Roddy appeared, looking grave, with Ted behind. Yes, my lord?
I prefer you call me Clun, or better yet, Will. My nephews climbing the stable sta
lls like a baby baboon for lack of useful occupation. Cant have him spoiling Alge
rnon either. Its high time he had a tutor. And before you remind me how little yo
u and I enjoyed ours, I will only say, a gentleman must suffer through Latin, ma
ths and history. Clun addressed himself in an aside to Ted, Its the way of the worl
d, lad, miserable but true. If only horses could teach us maths, life would be b
liss. Turning back to Roddy, Clun continued, Ive also pledged riding lessons in com
pensation for the drearier subjects. So we must see that he has a proper mount,
at my expense. If you cant find a pony here, I suppose I could in London. But, Clu
n pointed his finger at the boy, you will exercise, feed and groom it yourself.
Ted vibrated with excitement looking from Clun to his father, disbelieving his e
ars. Good manners and glee warred in his expression. Elizabeth and Cook stifled
their laughter watching the boy try to contain himself.
No need for that, my lorWill, Roddy replied with a gleam in his eyes, Perhaps its bes
t he learn to ride as we did as lads.
As we did?
On sheep! Roddy exclaimed.
Ah, yes, of course, Clun said, rubbing his chin as if in contemplation. Id forgotten
. He glanced over at Ted squirming in misery. Youre so right, Roddy, a fat, wooly o
ne with a slow, bouncy gait should do.
And a tinkling bell on its collar, Roddy added.
Naturally, Clun agreed as if it were self-evident. How else will we know when Teds i
n the saddle? The boy wrung his hands. Then again, another riding horse could keep
Algernon company. Hes a bit too high in the instep to mix with the carriage catt
le.
Still, Roddy argued merrily, a sheep is perfect for riding.
And knitting! Clun cried.
How long the large de Sayre men intended to torment the small one would never be
known. Elizabeth stepped in to end their absurd discussion. Enough, you two, I e

ndorse the pony.

The brothers finally burst out in gales of deep guffaws. Ted glared at them.
If you insist, Bess, but I vow theres nothing like a sheep at full gallop, he choke
d out. She gave him a look. Fine. Ted shall have a pony. Clun offered his hand to
the boy to seal the bargain. Afterward, the baron turned to say, Beg pardon, Eliz
abeth, am I neglecting you?
Not at all, she said, loving him all the more after this ludicrous exchange. Roddy
took his skipping son off to make plans. A little teary-eyed, Elizabeth took hi
s arm and teased, Oh, well, at least you love children. You cant deny that.
Yes, well, Teds a good lad, he said and looked queasy. He led her upstairs from the
kitchen and took leave of her on the first floor without another word.
They dined in silence that night. She made several attempts to engage him in con
versation, but he answered with whatever minimum constituted a response.
On the following day, he excused himself with a bow in the morning to deal with e
state business, if you will permit me and left her to her own devices.
After shed toured the kitchen, stillroom, laundry room, estates office, formal din
ing room, ballroom, guest rooms, nursery, kitchen gardens and conservatory with
Mrs. Wirt, she helped herself to the library. The brass and wood ladder to the b
alcony posed a challenge to her modesty, so she locked the door, hiked up her go
wn and climbed it, content to spend hours pouring over the books she found hidde
n away. Some of the silliest boasted William Tyler de Sayres personal bookplates
and had marginalia penned in his childish hand.
In this way she passed the time.
Spending hours alone in just this way was nothing new to her. Shed often hidden h
erself away in the earls library when not cultivating her accomplishments under M
rs. Abeels tutelage. Elizabeth understood Clun had responsibilities. His absence
wasnt meant as a snub. She accepted it without question because it was completely
familiar.
That thought gave her pause.
It would not do. Not for her married life. No one can give you what you want if n
o one knows what you want, child, Mrs. Abeel often said by way of encouraging Eli
zabeth to speak up for herself.
So she tossed a novel down to the settee, hiked up her gown and climbed down fro
m her perch. She marched down the hall to knock on the barons study door.
Come, Clun said from the other side of the door.
She opened it and breezed in, Dont mind me, I wont say a thing once Ive settled. She
looked about the room and its dark, comfortable club chairs. She chose one partl
y in his view and sat down. Tucking her feet up demurely, she looked at him. This
is cosy, isnt it?
He watched her. He was alone. There was a half empty glass of spirits before him
on his desk and piles of papers and ledgers.
Am I disturbing you? She asked, growing annoyed at his forbidding expression.
You have no idea, Lady Elizabeth.

That is nonsensical Clun, Ive only just come in and youre obviously not doing anyth
ing but drinking. How could I?
She waited for his answer. None came.
Do you mind if I stay? She asked sharply.
He took up his glass, leaned back and made an expansive gesture that conveyed do
what you will and the Devil take you.
Well? She would have a verbal answer not rude, dismissive gestures or dark scowls.
No, he finally answered, I do not. If you will excuse me. And with that he rose, bow
ed and left her in the study. Alone. With her book.
This behavior was daunting even to her. For a time, hed been polite, even charmin
g, then suddenly the baron regressed to truculence. True, theirs was only a rece
nt acquaintance. Still, it was hard to be patient when he behaved this way. They
were to marry soon. Yet, wherever she was he would rather not be.
That would certainly not do. Unless he intended to rely upon immaculate concepti
on, hed have to put up with her proximity at some point to produce an heir. This
she knew in some detail, though a virgin of gentle birth wasnt supposed to posses
s such knowledge. (Once again, she thanked the Almighty for Mrs. Abeel, whod inst
ructed Elizabeth about men, life in general and marital life in particular becau
se she believed it was shameful that Polite Society kept young ladies in utter i
gnorance.)
Either Lord Clun had lost interest in her, was dead to finer feelings or was obs
tinate as a matter of perverse principle. She suspected the last. For some incom
prehensible reason, he still believed it would be best to wed without any romant
ic attachment. And he was doing his utmost to smother any she felt for him.
But this was not the most irksome issue she faced.
Far worse than Cluns imperviousness to her charms was the fact that she was unfai
rly pervious to his. She found him irresistible. Adorable. Desirable. Admirable.
Charming. And lovable despite his recent recidivism. In fact, she exhibited all
of Mrs. Abeels signs of affection while he demonstrated next to none in return.
This bothered her more than the man himself did at his most bothersome.
Theyd gotten on well enough when he was Mr. Tyler, then famously before he became
cold and aloof. Lord Clun had been protective and considerate; however, those i
mpulses couldve been nothing more than good manners. He admitted to possessivenes
s, but only hypothetically. She was at a standstill.
She put her book down unopened and stood up to go. Rather than trail after him i
nto the hallway, she went outside through a French door onto the terrace that ov
erlooked the bare rose garden in the courtyard. He sat on a bench not twenty fee
t away, hunched over staring at his boots with his elbows resting on his knees.
He heard the door creak and looked up, his expression bleak.
Oh, dear. Im not stalking you, Clun. Shall I go back inside? She retreated a step.
No, he said and sat up straight. Come join me. She took another step away and would
have demurred, but he asked, Has the library yielded any surprises?
She hesitated. She could go off as he had without explanation or she could answe
r him. The temptation to tease proved too great. She spoke as she approached, Wel

l, my lord, I found heaps of the most torrid, melodramatic novels: The Old Engli
sh Baron, The Castle of Otranto, The Romance of the Forest, A Sicilian Romance a
nd, of course, The Mysteries of Udolpho. She perched on the far end of the bench.
I thought your male forebears preferred this place, not their wives.
A man cannot enjoy a tale of supernatural mystery?
But Gothic romance? she asked.
Well, why not? He looked away. I read those when I enjoyed terror in all its forms.
They sat an arms length apart on the bench overlooking the bare garden. The baron
relaxed and crossed his ankles before him. With head bent back, he closed his e
yes and let the weak suns rays warm his face. His arm lay along the back of the w
rought iron bench, his hand just behind her shoulder. It seemed as good a time a
s any to address their stalemate.
Clun, I simply cannot credit that you have no wish for a loving marriage, she said
quietly. How can that be?
He sighed, sat up again and scraped the blowing hair back off his forehead. Bess,
was all he said in a long-suffering tone. I will not promise you the fairy tale r
omance you expect. Im bound to disappoint you. Evidently, its hereditary.
Why in Gods name must you be so pessimistic?
Not pessimistic, realistic. And if you cannot accept me as I am, do not expect me
to change to suit you. And do not pretend you can love where you will always fi
nd fault.
Does expecting the worst make you happy, Lord Clun?
I expect what is possible and that cannot make me miserable, Lady Elizabeth. That
is the blessed point.
Wont you even try? She asked around the lump in her throat.
Only to fail? Clun glanced at her and said, No. I wont.
His finality stunned her. For a moment, he looked as miserable as she felt. He t
urned away to stare fixedly at the bare, thorny rose canes.
Then, much as it disappoints me, I must end our betrothal. She tried to read his e
xpression. His profile revealed nothing.
Very well, Lady Elizabeth, he replied, We leave at first light for London tomorrow.
Still polite, he stood up quietly, bowed, excused himself and left her.
It was over.

* * *

Much as it disappoints me, shed said. Better to disappoint her now than later when
nothing could be done about it.
Clun left Elizabeth on the terrace without a backward glance. He was determined
to escape before she dissolved into tears. For thats what women did when disappoi
nted. They wept. They whimpered to win arguments. They bawled their dissatisfact
ion till you wished yourself deaf or them mute. His mother was not the only fema
le in his acquaintance to resort to tears, but she was the subtlest practitioner
hed met so far. Tears were a womans weapon of choice because they disarmed and wo
unded simultaneously.
Morbid curiosity almost kept Clun on the terrace to compare Elizabeths lachrymose
collapse to the reigning mistress of romantic martyrdom. Instead, he decided to
give her some privacy. Or rather, to deprive her of an audience.
When he was much younger, the Fury had kept him on tenterhooks with her tearful
reproaches. She said Oh, William, how can you be so unfeeling? Fortunately, heartl
essness was second nature to him now when faced with tears.
Elizabeth ended their betrothal and she cried? Where, by Jove, was the logic of
that?
His footfalls echoed down the vaulted hallway. He paused at the staircase to lis
ten.
For all he cared, she could indulge in a noisome fit of the wet sulks on her own
and be damned. He wouldnt relent. Or apologize. Hed told her from the outset what
he wanted in a wife: a female with realistic expectations. He never wavered or
misled. He was rational, clear and consistent while she was female, full of fanc
iful delusions and therefore prone to spouting twaddle about a man divulging sig
ns of phantom emotions and not knowing his own damned mind.
No. If she insisted on having a lovesick swain, back she must go to her father.
In the meantime, let her howl.
Yes, Clun seethed, let her blubber till she dissolved into a salty puddle for al
l he cared. He would not hesitate to mop up her soggy remains, wring them into a
bucket and haul the slops of her back to London, where hed leave her sloshing on
the doorstep of No. 1 Damogan Square.
Truth to tell, he was even angrier with himself because making Elizabeth miserab
le did not sit quiet with his conscience. This was a first. She had somehow foun
d and exploited a tiny chink in his fortress heart. Why in Gods name couldnt she s
ee that her girlish, fairy tale fantasies would complicate everything? Expecting
Love from him was like waiting for a dog to recite Shakespeare. Hed forever bark a
nd shed be ever more disappointed.
Just like the Fury.
Clun waited at the stairs to see if the lady would bellow her unhappiness loudly
enough to be heard from the terrace.
Silence.
He crept back a few paces, now intent. Still nothing.
Wait.
He edged near the half-closed door to the room hed stormed through only minutes a

go. He heard her huff as if she were fighting to control her breathing. He peeke
d around the door he left ajar. She blinked and tilted her face up. To roll the
tears back into her eyes, he imagined. He waited for more. Of all things, out ca
me one of her throaty gusts of laughter and not a bit soggy. She sounded uncomfo
rtably self-assured.
Poor man, she said in a way that chilled him. Wont he have a time getting me to Lond
on. She moved toward the deep casement window and chortled again. Two days, poor C
lun.
The blood froze in his veins. He tiptoed back to the staircase. She wasnt weeping
, she was too busy plotting.
Poor Clun? For once in his life, he would have preferred the usual tears.
Upstairs, Clun slammed his bedchamber door behind him, tore at his cravat and wr
enched the waistcoat off, losing buttons. His valet stood not ten feet away, wai
ting to help him undress. Fewings flinched at the tic-tic-tic of each tiny butto
n projectile as it landed.
If the lady were not so damned appealing, I should crate her bound and gagged for
shipment back to the earl this very night. It would be the wise course, I know,
but I am a man of my word and I will do as I promised to see her safely home.
Fewings opened his mouth to speak.
Stubble it, Fewings.

Chapter 13
In which the lady doesnt vanish.

Early the next morning, Elizabeth eased open her bedchamber door to steal away.
But, drat the man, Lord Clun had anticipated her inclination. Hed posted a servan
t in a chair down the hall all night, by the looks of it. When she poked her bon
neted head out of the door, the footman leapt up in rumpled livery with powdered
wig askew and asked politely if my lady required something, to which she stammere
d an embarrassed no and remained in durance vile.
Early that morning, Elizabeth joined Clun for breakfast.
Sleep well, Lady Elizabeth? He asked, rising to his feet, his face wan.
He dismissed the footmen waiting to serve them so they could be alone. He pulled
out the chair to his immediate right; she glared from the foot of the table. He
offered her the second chair away from him, then the third and finally the four
th farthest away before she finally came and sat.
He leaned down to murmur into her ear, I must return you to your father without d
elay or mishap. If you promise not to hare off, Ill send you to London in my carr
iage with my coachman, a postillion and a proper maid. You can be rid of my vexa
tious self immediately. He draped her napkin across her lap and added, In a few da

ys, youll be home where you can find a man more to your liking.
I will not return to the earl, she retorted in a whisper.
You must, he whispered back. Or marry me here without delusions.
I cannot marry where there is no hope of love.
So youve said, he replied. Henceforth, that philosophical debate will be between you
and your father. I have said all I intend on the matter.
Let me go, Clun, Elizabeth urged him.
I cannot let you wander around to be robbed or worse. How would I explain that to
the earl?
Youd never have to explain it. He doesnt know Im here. His runners havent found me ye
t. If I leave soon, no one will ever know. Dont you see?
I will know and as a gentleman I will not pretend otherwise. You are here, my lad
y, he said walking back to his chair. I am responsible for your wellbeing until I
restore you to your father. Theres an end to it. He sat and snapped his napkin dow
n on his own lap.
But he doesnt care whom I marry, Clun.
That may be, but again, its no longer my concern. Will you give me your word you w
ill go straight home?
No. I wont.
Right. Ill return you myself. Indeed, its no great inconvenience, he added, I find my
self in want of a prize heifer. I may as well stay in Town to survey the pasture
.
If youre determined to find another female, couldnt you let me remain here a bit lo
nger? I wont be any trouble, I promise. He snorted at this. She persevered, Ill retu
rn to the cottage and when Im one-and-twenty, Ill go away. Though it pained her to
say it, she added, Ill promise not to interfere with your plans. Will that do as m
y pledge?
No, devil take it, that will not do. It was scandalous having you here from the f
irst, but we were soon to wed. I thought thered be no lasting harm. What you ask
now is impossible. He released a long, slow exhale. Give me your word youll go home
as you must, Lady Elizabeth.
I wont, she said. Her defiant green glare scorched him.
You force me to take you home, you cannot want that.
Of course I dont, she said. Any more than you wish to escort me there, you big oaf.
Lord Clun, she muttered to herself, was above all a nasty, perverse creature give
n to irrational, incomprehensible freaks about honor and other stupidities.
Do not fight me on this, Lady Elizabeth. Im only doing whats best for you.
No, my lord, youre doing whats easiest for you.
I most certainly am not, he yelled. With that, he brought his hand down on the tab

le. She flinched and the tableware clattered.

* * *

He heard himself roar at her with more feeling than he meant to reveal. He hadnt
intended to hit the table either, but his stinging palm felt good.
Why cant you see, he said, struggling to calm down, that returning to London without
incident is essential to your future, your happiness it is essential if you wan
t to marry for love.
Going back will not make me any happier.
He felt veins in his temples throbbing faster and probably harder than vessels c
ould withstand. You wish to kill me, do you? He massaged his temples and the sides
of his head hard. If you cause me a fatal brain seizure here and now, it would b
e your just deserts. It would also be your ruin. Not that I would care. No, not
at all! I could succumb to a brain hemorrhage with a clear conscience and leave
you to explain your unchaperoned presence at my estate to your father. He leaned
back in his chair and pointed out, Yes indeed, while my spirits wafting off peacef
ully to my final reward, youll be hopelessly compromised, the butt of cruel jokes
and ton gossip, to be married off under a cloud to whatever cash-strapped lord
the earl arranges to take you. With your dowry, therell be a slew of willing take
rs to be sure but, here his voice fell to a gruff whisper, not one of those men wi
ll cherish you or care about your happiness or love you the way you deserve.
She looked shocked, her mouth a small o.
He snapped his mouth shut before he blurted out more.
Even if he didnt succumb to a fatal spasm of some sort, there was an even worse p
ossibility making Cluns brain hurt. If anyone caught wind of her ill-conceived vi
sit to Shropshire, she would have to marry him. After all, hed brought her to The
Graces when he shouldve bustled her back to London the instant he discovered who
she was.
Elizabeth, if you dont go quietly, he pleaded, you could end up married to a man whos
now convinced its a terrible idea. Would that be your dream come true?
She glanced away.
No, of course not, he said softly. I vow to do what I must to safeguard your reputa
tion and to see you home. If you want some great mooning looby for a husband, by
God, you should have him, Lady Elizabeth. Just spare me your histrionics in the
meantime.
My histrionics? She took offense, as he intended. Even better, she stormed from th
e room.
He hurled his last instructions after her in his voice of command, Lady Elizabeth
, be ready to leave on the hour if you please. Anything you neglect to pack I sh
all have sent after the fact.

Watching her leave, her spine stiff with outrage, cheeks flushed and eyes flashi
ng, Clun could only groan. He predicted the toll the next two days would take on
him, but what choice did he have? If the lady would not return willingly to Lon
don like a good girl, he would haul her there like the hoyden she was.

Chapter 14
In which our hero has a problem on his hands.

It was afternoon when he found the empty travel carriage near the road.
Where was she?
A copse of trees stood not far away. He ran there. Thrill of the hunt offset som
e of his usual foreboding. He stepped through the undergrowth to the edge of the
stream. Clun saw her floating like a lotus in the dark water. Her legs flickere
d below the surface. Her arms swept languidly back and forth. His siren watched
him, submerged to her grin, with laughing green eyes daring him to join her.
He hopped and struggled out of his boots and clothes. He careened heedlessly int
o the water, cussing and hissing when the cold hit his tenders. Her laughter rip
pled in the air.
Clun held her gaze as he swam to her in a few strokes. She slid both hands up ov
er his shoulders, into his hair, and kissed a little rivulet that dripped down h
is neck. He sighed at the warmth of her soft lips.
Chest deep in water, he drew her tight against him and felt her nestle close, pr
essing the tight tips of her breasts against his skin. She licked a few more dri
ps of water from the hollow above his collarbone, then along his jaw. He waited
for her to find his lips and when she did, she gave him a sweet, teasing kiss. H
e responded with the clawing hunger he felt. He took her mouth, opened her lips
with his tongue and feasted. Cupping her bottom in both his hands, he lifted her
against himself, opening her legs wider, holding her against him where he was h
ard and lusty. She twined her long legs around him and let him explore with gent
le fingers. Her hair dripped cool streams down his back as he pleasured her. He
felt an inner tension, a coiled fluttering, that signaled the beginnings of her
release.
She arched back with a slow moan. Her hair, sleek as seals fur, streamed down her
shoulders and over her breasts. He lifted her and let her settle slowly onto hi
s cock. With a devilish grin, he sank low in the water to let her float moored i
ntimately to him. When he stood, she eased fully onto his erection and surrounde
d him with her heat.
Slowly, he thrust into her and she responded to each stroke, again and again, ti
ghtening around his shaft as she rode him. They raced each other to reach the cl
imax. She paced him, gripped his buttocks with un-shy hands and urged him deeper
. He thrust faster and harder till she cried out in his arms. A few heartbeats l
ater, he was poised to follow her with his own release. When it washed over him,
it left him gasping.

Her inner spasms milked him and he came again and again within her. He roared as
he filled her womb with a conquerors seed. She was his now, his forever. His alo
ne.

Clun roared so loudly that he woke himself from yet another damned convincing dr
eam. Ever since Elizabeth had climbed onto his back while he slept, he was havin
g a devil of a time distinguishing dreams from reality.
This time was no different. His senses slowly informed him of his actual circums
tances. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw a cramped guest room at The
Scribe and Scholar, a respectable but unfashionable inn in Oxford. It was the s
econd and last day of their trip. He lay naked on a lumpy mattress with bedcloth
es wrapped about his bare hips, not long, lean legs. Elizabeth slept in a separa
te room with a ladys maid in attendance, at a safe distance down the narrow hall,
her virtue intact. (Hed paid for strong hot toddies at the end of their long day
to make sure she slept too deeply to scamper off in the night.)
Almost nothing in his dream was real.
Except his erection. He lay in bed now fully awake and still it steadfastly refu
sed to subside without satisfaction. He grumbled to himself about being too old
for a schoolboys cock-stand and tried relaxing to relieve the torment. It only gr
ew more adamant. Making matters worse, his bladder was full.
Clun took stock. Though the doors to their rooms were distant, the rooms shared
a wall a thin wall. Last night, hed heard her murmur to her ladys maid and the mai
ds murmurs in reply. He eyed the chamber pot, judged his need and decided against
relieving himself thunderously into the stoneware. Not that he could manage to
point himself downward without inflicting serious injury.
Muttering to himself, he dressed in tented breeches, boots and un-tucked shirt a
nd stumbled downstairs in the cold, pre-dawn darkness to find the privy where he
might remedy his difficulty well out of range of delicate ears.
He soon found himself in a ramshackle structure behind the inns stable unbuttonin
g the falls of his breeches. The shock of cold air helped reduce somewhat his di
fficulty so that with concentration he managed gingerly to relieve himself. This
relief did not address the other outstanding issue. In fact, it recurred.
The walls and door of the privy gaped with knotholes and inch-wide open seams be
tween planks. He glanced over his shoulder through the privy door. What choice d
id he have? He couldnt very well sport a maypole at breakfast nor could he do wha
t he must in the room next to hers.
He leaned with one hand against the back wall and spit into the other, fisted hi
mself and started stroking slowly. To move things along, he recalled some of the
most stirring moments of his latest dream: taut nipples, soft curls between her
legs, the pink of her sex just where hed lap up her sweet musk and finally the w
arm, tight sensation of plunging into her and feeling himself fully sheathed in
her as he spent himself explosively.
He pumped away, picking up the pace while his recollections had the desired effe
ct. Tension gathered like a rope twisting into knots in his lower belly and groi
n as he worked himself, accelerating to release. He felt his bollocks tighten. N
early there, he panted. Nearly. There.

Oh, God, he groaned aloud, Ohhhh.

He moaned louder as he stroked himself and almost missed the sound, slight as it
was, of someone approaching.
Lord Clun? She cried out.
Ow! He nearly yanked himself out by the roots in shock. Biting back a louder, pain
ed scream, he froze, poised on the excruciating cusp of relief. Not now, Lady Eli
zabeth, he panted out in tight gasps, careful to keep his back to the privy door
and her voice. He was hardly presentable with his hands full and his damned bree
ches down around his knees. He prayed shed leave quickly.
But Lord Cl
Go away, blast you. Go. Away. Now! He roared. The privy shuddered as he leaned int
o the far corner.
No need to yell, she huffed and marched off muttering, I heard you perfectly well t
he first time.
Fearful she might hear him perfectly well even at a distance, he waited agonizing
minutes before he finished in a frenzy. (With his luck, shed think he was taking
too long and return to check on him.) Sensitivity be damned, he stuffed himself
back into his breeches hastily, tucked in his shirt and buttoned his falls befor
e storming back to find her seated by the fire in the private parlor hed hired.
What is it? He demanded.
I cant remember now. She smiled apologetically and shrugged. Your bellowing shocked
it right out of mind.
My apologies, he said through clenched teeth. If youll excuse me, Lady Elizabeth. And
he stalked from the parlor.

* * *

Elizabeth hadnt known what to think. She heard Clun move quietly about his room,
though it was still well before dawn. When he tiptoed past her door and stealthi
ly descended the stairs, she panicked. Rather than spend another day with her, h
e thought to sneak away and let his servants see her home from Oxford. No matter
how she tried to reassure herself, fear overwhelmed rational argument.
She threw on clothes and shoes to rush after him and prevent his departure. Outs
ide, she ran to the stable looking right and left, hoping to spy him or hear his
footfalls on the cobblestones. Algernon wasnt in the inn yard. It appeared, as s
he searched, that none of the grooms stirred. She still had time, which came as
a relief.
As she left the stable, she heard strangled moans of pain. It was Lord Clun. And
he groaned as if he were suffering a great deal gasping and hissing, possibly i

njured.
Where was the man?
She hurried around the corner of the stable and scanned the jumble there.
She called his name. There was a high-pitched scream. Now, she panicked that som
ething dire truly had befallen him.
Not now, Lady Elizabeth, he finally choked out from somewhere nearby, his voice sh
arp with pain.
But Lord Cl
Go away, blast you.
Oh.
Shed overlooked the ramshackle privy tucked away. Through the gaps she saw someon
e inside. Someone tall and broad.
Oh dear.
Go away now! He yelled at her from inside the shuddering structure.
No need to yell, she replied with dignity. I heard you perfectly well the first tim
e.
There came a deep growl from the privys shadowy interior. She thought it wisest t
o hurry back to the inn.
Oddly enough, his bellowing without hesitation was all the reassurance Elizabeth
needed. If hed meant to sneak off, he wouldve remained silent. He was using the p
rivy rather than a chamber pot upstairs. A very thoughtful gesture, she conclude
d with satisfaction. Mrs. Abeel would approve.
Soon after, Clun filled the private parlor doorway. Disheveled, black hair flyin
g, eyes sparking, muscles tensed magnificently, he brought to mind his ancestral
Norman conquerors. Elizabeth clasped her hands in her lap and pleaded forgetful
ness rather than disclose her sudden, silly panic.
After he stormed off, she contemplated the coming day. Dawn was still some time
off. Only the inns kitchen staff stirred, with the innkeepers wife haranguing the
cook about last nights mutton, complaining that it couldnt be chewed much less cho
ked down. (She was right.)
This was the last day of travel and Elizabeths last opportunity to run away. Shed
been too tired and tipsy to consider escape after last nights dinner. Still queas
y from the day, she ate little and her empty stomach much magnified the bracing ef
fect of the specially-fortified restorative tea Clun insisted she drink. Nor did s
he awake in the night as planned. If shed wanted to, she mightve slipped away whil
e he was occupied in the privy, but that wouldnt have given her a sufficient head
start to elude him for long.
The trouble was she didnt want to run from him or end their betrothal. The more s
he thought about it, the more militant her thinking became. She knew only too we
ll the gross impropriety of her actions to date, first running away, then stayin
g at The Graces alone with Clun and finally traveling under his auspices with on
ly a timid maid for a fig leaf. Had anyone beyond his trusted staff known about
it, hed have been obliged to marry her come what may.

Well. That simplified the problem considerably. After years of dire lectures abo
ut ruination, Elizabeth knew how to compromise herself beyond all reclamation. A
nd she had what she needed for the task: a private room with him in it and the l
oud-mouthed innkeepers wife as witness.
Elizabeth hoped Clun would forgive her eventually.
Upstairs, she crept past her own room to the far end of the narrow hall and tapp
ed lightly on his door. She held her breath. After an eternity, she heard his fo
otfall on the other side.
Yes?
Lord Clun, she whispered. I must speak to you.
Wont it wait till breakfast?
Im afraid not, my lord.
There was a moment of silence and a deep sigh before the knob turned and the doo
r swung partly open. He stood in the gap looking warily up and down the hall bef
ore settling on her. His eyes, she noted, always dark, appeared almost molten. H
e stirred not an inch to allow her into his room.
Dont be daft, you cant come in. Say what you will, he growled. He scrutinized her fr
om her uncombed hair to her worn half boots.
I will not discuss us in the hallway of an inn, Clun. With her last ounce of resol
ve she pushed against his solid chest and forced her way inside.
He stumbled backward when she flitted past. She waited while he leaned against t
he door to close it. His eyes were clenched tight. A man was supposed to enjoy h
aving a woman throw herself at him. Then again, Clun didnt know she intended to d
o so. She smoothed the hand-me-down gown and looked up at him again. He didnt loo
k intrigued in the least. Only pained.
This pricked her conscience. What was she proposing to do, back him into a corne
r, attempt his seduction then raise the alarm? He never connived, or threatened
or tried to force her to do as he wished. He was too honorable a man. And he des
erved better from her.
Lady Elizabeth, please say what you will then I beg you leave.
I thought to seduce you, Lord Clun, she confessed with answering formality. His ey
es snapped wide open. At that, she scolded, Dont look so horrified. I daresay you
wouldnt have hated it. She plucked at her gown. You neednt worry. Ive changed my mind
. Besides, I have no practical knowledge of how to do it. I was taught to rebuff
unwanted male attention. No one ever offered me any guidance on how to encourag
e the attention I did want, she trailed off. So, youre safe from me.
Not safe, Clun said and relaxed against the door, but I promise you, when you meet
the right man, it sorts itself out naturally.
Mrs. Abeel said something to that effect as well, she trailed off then whispered, I
f only
What? He stared at her.
Its of no consequence, she said with a shrug. I should go.

He moved away from the door and she let herself out.

* * *

Long before shed slipped into his room, Clun had grown increasingly alarmed by El
izabeths roguery. The first day of the trip was mostly uneventful, if one discoun
ted her offhand flirtation and the erotic dream that her coquettishness caused.
They traveled more than half the distance to London, changing horses, taking tea
and using inns conveniences several times until they reached Oxford and The Scri
be and Scholar, where Clun hired two rooms upstairs and a private parlor on the
ground floor. They dined, though Elizabeth ate little, and retired early when sh
e was tipsily toasted by the hot toddies he insisted she drink.
But here, now, this was altogether too much. She stood in his room and bewitched
him with her sirens smile. He couldnt parse her object, but she was fast working
loose his death grip on gentlemanly restraint.
Lady Elizabeth, please say what you will then I beg you leave.
I thought to seduce you, Lord Clun, she said.
Her comment made certain irrepressible lower parts take note, which appalled him
.
Dont look so horrified, she huffed, I daresay you wouldnt have hated it.
If only she knew how little he hated the idea, she wouldnt discuss seduction calm
ly alone with him in his room.
But you neednt worry, Ive changed my mind, she said.
Though unschooled by her own admission, she had a natural gift for making his bl
ood pound into places better left un-supplied. He clamped his mouth shut. What w
as he to do with her?
Lust, Panic and Rage screamed in his head: Take her! Heaven forbid! God damn it
all!
At dinner the previous evening, hed nearly jumped out of his skin at her casual t
ouches over the course of their meal. He assumed it was the second hot toddy she
drank. When Elizabeth handed him a plate of bread, she let her bare fingers bru
sh his hand and smiled that smile. The maid pretended not to see any of it. For
the rest of the meal, he ate what was on his plate and didnt dare ask for any mor
e.
In Shropshire, hed wanted her when she hadnt flirted at all. Now he was ravenous f
or her after days of proximity at The Graces and nights of nettlesome dreams. In
deed, hed just dreamt of seducing her in detail. And a trip to the privy notwiths
tanding, his appetite remained keen. If she kept eyeing him in that thoughtful,
wanton way of hers, he would crumble. Indeed, he was only moments away from tear
ing his mothers hand-me-down carriage dress off her and taking her on the lumpy b

ed when Panic hissed, Ruin her and shell regret it.

It was just the cold splash of reality he needed to drown out the howls of Lust.
If only, she sighed without voicing the rest.
What? Clun choked out while Lust whispered in his muddled brain, If only she wants
what you do, Clun, do it, do it, do it.
Its of no consequence. I should go, she said and slipped out the door just in time.
Nooooo! Lust wailed between his ears and sent him prowling into the narrow hallway
after her.
Lady Elizabeth, Clun whispered to her, A man has only so much forbearance, youd be w
ise to remember that.
Forbearance? Why, you curd-witted clunch, I changed my mind, she spat.
You were safe even if you hadnt, my lady, he whispered back, perjuring himself.
Lummox, she ground out before disappearing into her room.
As last man standing in the hall, Clun prevailed. Even so, he sensed it was a py
rrhic victory.

Chapter 15
In which a journey of a thousand leagues ends with one misstep.

Though the last day of their journey was mild, the atmosphere in the carriage wa
s decidedly frosty. Clun began inside but soon tapped on the trap and instructed
his coachman to stop. He exited with a curt by your leave to ride Algernon out of
sight behind the carriage.
With each mile marker they passed, Elizabeths heart grew heavier. The last hours
they could be together, Clun preferred not. Then again, after her clumsy, botche
d seduction, she couldnt blame him for staying out of confined spaces with her.
The first hours went by at a snails pace. Her companion inside, the upper maid, s
ought refuge in sleep. Elizabeth could not. Nor could she read to distract herse
lf. Even on the smooth, tarmacadam toll road, the swaying of the barons well-spru
ng carriage made her motion sick if she attempted to close her eyes or read a pr
inted sentence. With absolute certainty, she would lose her mind from boredom wi
thout a distraction.
Press close as she might to the quarter light, her vantage point did not allow a
glimpse of the baron riding behind the vehicle.
So she stared at scenery through Buckinghamshire and into Middlesex, relieved on
ly by the stops they made to change teams and refresh themselves. Clun was unifo
rmly taciturn at these stopovers. Countryside finally gave way to more frequent,

ever more prosperous-looking hamlets and villages as they neared the outskirts
of London. Elizabeth considered dropping the glass and craning her head out to f
ind Lord Clun. She thought the better of it several times. No lady of quality wo
uld do such a thing. Besides, she was not sure the borrowed oversized poke bonne
t would fit.
After much inner struggle, she slid down the windows glass and peeked out as best
she could. No sign of the baron. The carriage jounced and the top of her bonnet
ed head rattled painfully against the upper frame edge with a crunch.
Ow!
Irritated beyond all bearing, she shoved her head through the unforgiving apertu
re, bonnet and all. Ominous cracks let her know the hats architecture had not sur
vived. Though the maid had assured her the baroness would never miss it, Elizabe
th still felt badly for ruining it. With the brim now at odd angles, she anticip
ated the retraction back through the window would do even more damage than the o
utward projection had.
She twisted her head and leaned as far out as she might but only glimpsed the an
noying baron, astride his big, gray horse, tilting his head to look at her. He l
ifted his tall beaver hat with a smirk. His amusement infuriated her.
Lord Clun, she called out to him, her broken bonnet brim flopping.
With a pounding of hooves, Clun rode up beside the carriage, Yes, my little turtl
e.
She couldnt very well ignore the clod, having just stuck her head out of the coac
h window and catcalled to him, but she was sorely tempted. Turtle, indeed.
Tamping down her pique, she asked, Will you ride the entire way to London on hors
eback? Wont that be tiresome?
Her bonnet brim flapped up and down over her face because the window was too sma
ll for her to prop it up with her hand. Worse, with every upward flip, she saw h
ow much her flopping brim amused him.
Ive ridden for years, Lady Elizabeth, I am content.
But Im so uncomfortable, she admitted to him, gripping the bottom of the window. Wont
you join us? Just for this last distance.
He shook his head. She scowled at
to drop back behind the carriage
anked her head and the bedraggled
s laughter outside made her blood

him. He smiled in reply and reined in Algernon

once again. After several awkward tries, she y
hat back inside the carriage. The rumble of hi
boil.

She closed the window with a hard snap, snatched at the ribbon under her chin an
d tore the broken bonnet from her head. Why hadnt she removed it before poking he
r head out the window? Sad to say, she thought she looked dashing in it and want
ed to cajole the baron while looking her best.
Vanity, thy name is Elizabeth.
The mangled hat on the empty seat reproached her, too.
Hours, no, ages, no, eons later, the coach pulled into an inn yard and the carri
age door swung open. Clun filled the tiny doorway and helped her and the maid st
ep down. They would change horses and have a small repast, he informed them.

Bareheaded, are you? Clun sniggered. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Poor hat.
She frowned, spun on her heel and stalked into the inn without him.
Elizabeth was glad for the opportunity to stretch her long legs, use the conveni
ence and have some tea and toast to ease her queasiness. Shed never been a good t
raveler and with so many additional upsets, her stomach felt turned upside down
and inside out. Making matters worse, whenever the baron smiled, something insid
e did a quick somersault.

* * *

After their mostly silent repast, Clun decided to join the women in the carriage
. Elizabeths pallor and lack of appetite alarmed him. Shed reassured him that coac
h travel made her stomach uncomfortable, nothing more. Still he worried. So he p
rofessed his boredom with riding behind the carriage on a dusty toll road, even
though hed had years of dusty travel on horseback during the war.
As tiresome as marches had been on campaign, he and his friends eased their time
in the saddle with insults and dares thrown back and forth. There was much abou
t his wartime experiences he willed from memory, but recollections of Maubrey, S
eelye and Percy, the other Horsemen of the Apocalypse, were among the best in hi
s life. Meeting his fiance would probably prove just as memorable. Likely, it wou
ld linger for years as a regret. It didnt bear thinking on, he concluded.
After he helped the ladies into the carriage, he climbed in and took the backwar
d facing seat. The petite maid tucked her legs under her seat, curled neatly int
o the corner and made herself inconspicuous.
Oh, so you would join us now, Lord Clun? Elizabeth said, a new battle line drawn. W
eve practically reached London. Why bother?
Wouldnt do to let you escape the carriage and run off in the city, he quipped. He r
egretted saying it the moment words left his lips. Her eyes slid to the door nea
rest her.
Now, Elizabeth, do not contemplate anything so shatter-brained, he said with a sin
king feeling. Id never forgive myself, or you frankly, if you threw yourself from
the carriage in traffic. Youll crack your head open or get yourself trampled. Put
that idiotic scheme out of mind this instant.
She merely arched an eyebrow.
Clun sat opposite her, regretting his decision to keep her company. He didnt dare
nod off now and only wished there were a way to lock the coach doors. Or perhap
s chain her to an interior lamp fixture.
Where were manacles when one needed them?
He didnt want to leave the carriage again so little time remained to be with her.
Yet, staying was its own kind of torment. The air inside carried her scent, of

fresh, clean, scrubbed skin and sweetness. It was distinctly, unforgettably her
own.
Although they rode in a fairly spacious London-built carriage, the two long-legg
ed creatures looking daggers at each other could not find a comfortable arrangem
ent for their lower limbs. Try as they might to avoid it, any movement caused in
appropriate contact.
Her primness goaded him to rub his legs up against hers. He didnt do it. Still, s
he kept a close eye on him despite his good behavior.
Finally, the baron said, Needs must, and gathered Elizabeths gowned legs at the kne
es and shifted them to the right of his legs. He stretched his own out to his le
ft.
Thank you, she ground out.
In theory, legs running parallel to one another need not touch. In reality, ever
y sway of the vehicle caused their limbs to brush against each other. She kept e
yeing him as if she expected something. What, he had no inkling, so he stared ba
ck. Let it never be said he couldnt give as good as he got.
In the next instant, she dazzled him with a smile.
Clun decided to feign sleep. That was safe. He might drowse, but he wouldnt fall
deeply asleep. That way, if his betrothed got a maggot in her brain about flitti
ng off on a whim, he could snatch her back by the scruff of her lovely neck befo
re she did herself any real harm.

* * *

Elizabeth waited patiently for the baron to speak. He watched her as wary
ornered animal. So she smiled at him to encourage conversation. In reply,
e her his blackest look. Then, without another word, his lordship crossed
ms, tucked his gloved hands into the armpits of his greatcoat and let his
ink to his chest.

as a c
he gav
his ar
chin s

He fell asleep.
Oh!
She scorched him head to knees, to no effect. She thought about kicking him just
a little but didnt. He slipped easily into the arms of Morpheus, leaving her to
simmer queasily on her own. She stared out the window at a fixed point on the ho
rizon to stave off her nausea.
The outskirts of London sprawled with an odd mix of fields, villas and commercia
l buildings. The closer they came, the more densely built were the houses and bu
sinesses crowding the main thoroughfare.
It was dark when their carriage rolled along Edgeware Road toward the heart of f
ashionable Mayfair.

Elizabeth contemplated her future. In less than half an hour, she would have to
face the earl, confess her betrothal must end and weather his censure. After whi
ch he would sequester himself in his library with his books, leaving her to consi
der carefully what shed done.
As the last few miles passed, her regrets ranged more widely. She was sorry to d
isappoint the earl and inconvenience Clun; but she deplored the necessity of fin
ding an alternative to the baron. She already knew she would never meet a man mo
re to her liking than the intransigent, emotionally-retarded Lord Clun.
If it were possible to put a fairy tale curse on him, this would be hers: that C
lun would fall hopelessly in love and suffer all the torments it entailed, just
as she had. And furthermore she prayed that she might witness it. She muttered t
his none too quietly to herself.
His lordship stirred. He scrubbed a big hand down his face, blinked at her then
sat up straight. His legs brushed along hers from knee to ankle.
I think youre making a terrible mistake, she said quietly. Not only about me, she sta
mmered and blushed, but generally.
How so? He leaned back into the far corner of the seat.
You are absurdly, if not to say, irrationally pessimistic about love.
You may be right, he said, not meeting her gaze.
I know I am and Im sad for you.
Dont fret for my sake. I must be content with your decision.
Not my decision, yours. And I hope you come to regret it, Lord Clun.
Time will tell, he said and glanced out of the window. Almost to the park, my lady.
Just beyond the glass, evening fog swirled in banks of dense floating sludge. Th
is was the air in London at the close of cold, dank days. Almost nothing of Hyde P
ark was visible, just the dim caramel halos of evenly spaced street lamps. Witho
ut wind, an impenetrable cloak of murk had settled over Mayfair as night fell, t
hanks to sea fog mixing with coal smoke.
It wouldnt be long once the carriage reached Knightsbridge Road. Traffic was ligh
t. She fought her tears and leaned forward to touch Cluns knee.
Lord Clun, I hope that we may remain friends, for I have come to appreciate your
qualities.
And I yours, Lady Elizabeth, he said with a croak. He cleared his throat to add, Th
eres no other woman like you in England. His avuncular tone sounded false to her.
What a relief that must be for you, she said, keeping her tone wry. No one else wil
l prove as troublesome.
There is that, Clun said, without smiling. You shall find the love you wish for. Yo
u deserve that and every happiness.
As do you, she replied. He grimaced and she corrected herself. Oh, how silly of me.
I am to wish you good luck finding a wife you will never know and a marriage un
troubled by emotions. Better?

She turned to look out her carriage window practically opaque with city grime. B
eyond the smudged glass, the London streets were enshrouded. One could barely ma
ke out the thoroughfare from the buildings in the gloom.
The carriage followed Park Lane down the east side of Hyde Park.
Neither lord nor lady could look at the other as the carriage trundled along. El
izabeth stared out her window, sad they would share nothing not even a view of t
he city during their last few minutes together.
Mustnt linger when we arrive, she said aloud, assuming he was anxious to be rid of
her. The carriage slowed to make the left turn into Sloane Street. She grasped t
he door handle to stay upright. Soon, they would circle Damogan Square and arriv
e at the earls residence and her purgatory.
Clun remained preoccupied, staring out his window. Elizabeth hated departures sh
e couldnt prevent even more than she hated being left behind. She hated most of a
ll saying good-bye to this frustrating man. Oh, how she wished she could run and
hide until he drove away!
Well, why not?
She considered this and liked the notion. It was childish, but she didnt care. Wi
th a flick of her wrist, Elizabeth opened the carriage door latch and swung out
of the creeping vehicle, clinging to the door.
When she dropped to the ground, she cried out in pain. Excruciating pins and nee
dles shot up her legs from her numb feet with each halting footfall. Her wretche
d feet had fallen asleep while wedged in one position in the carriage. Thus crip
pled, she stumped awkwardly away. Hampered by numbness, she couldnt hope to evane
sce like a wraith into the mist. Her escape became a plodding, lurching stumble
nothing like the mysterious vanishing shed envisioned.
Drat.
Behind her in the fog, Clun bellowed Hell and damnation! as he struggled through t
he narrow carriage door to chase after her. He called to his coachman to wait fo
r his return.
She picked up her gimpy pace, hissing at each painful, tingling step, trying to
run from the footfalls on the cobblestones as he gave chase. The sounds of his b
oot heels echoed off unseen walls and seemed to come from all directions. As she
limped disoriented this way and that, he loomed out of obscurity to stand befor
e her in the blink of an eye. She gasped and lurched away.
Elizabeth, he growled.
Just go, she bit out. Her lower extremities finally felt more like feet and less l
ike stumps stuck full as a pomander with cloves. She darted to her right. He cut
her off, arms outstretched. She dodged toward a mews entrance just to the left,
and he almost caught her. Panting, she backed away from him slowly, looking rig
ht and left. He advanced as slowly as she retreated, matching her step for step,
just a few yards away.
Damn it, stop this! he commanded. Youll hurt yourself.
She stayed out of reach and darted to the right. He moved much quicker than a ma
n his size had a right to and prevented her escape. Indeed, he seemed to anticip
ate her moves and place himself wherever it was most inconvenient.

The fog confused her, her feet slowed her and his irritating agility had finally
turned her in circles so she had no idea where she was in relation to the squar
e. In desperation, she spun and ran for all she was worth with Clun on her tingl
ing heels.
He followed her a few paces behind. She had little time to ponder this, because
she ran pell-mell into the wrought iron fence enclosing the side garden of her f
athers imposing city residence.
Elizabeth, the Earl of Morefield called out from his town carriage. A footman put
down the step for him and the earl unfolded himself to stand on the pavement. He
was tall, gaunt and immaculately turned out in evening clothes with chapeau bra
s tucked under his arm. Wisps of soft silver gray hair curled on his close-cropp
ed head. Sharp gray eyes were deep set under prominent, exuberantly beetled brow
s. He scanned her appearance up and down then looked to her right and left, his
expression tight with disapproval.
You look a positive fright, child, he said and tapped his sterling-topped ebony ca
ne on the pavement for emphasis. Where are your gloves?
Father! Elizabeth gasped, still breathless from trying to dodge around the baron w
hod herded her to her own house and disappeared.
I heard a commotion and what in Gods name are you doing? I find you skulking about
in the dark, your hair tumbling down. Where is your bonnet? Where is your maid,
Elizabeth? I see nothing of you for days and when I do, you look like this!
Ive endeavored to stay out of your way.
Yes, well, I commend you for finding your own entertainments, but I cannot approv
e of your going about like this. Really, daughter, you mustnt be such a shag-rag.
Youve a dressing room full of pretty gowns, have you not?
Good evening, my lord, Clun said, strolling down the pavement out of the deep gloo
m.
The earls head swiveled from her to Clun. Lord Clun, good evening. My daughter was
having a lark. Harmless fun. Turning back to her, he chastised, Whatever is Lord
Clun to think? Run along, Elizabeth, off you go. The earl enunciated each syllabl
e to propel her up the front stairs and out of sight without argument.
Elizabeth did not run along. Though the earl was insensible of it, she immediate
ly recognized Cluns gathering temper. His brows were drawn together, eyes hard, h
is mouth a thin, taut line. The muscles at the corners of his jaw pulsed. She th
ought she heard a knuckle or two crack as well. The bottom fell out of her stoma
ch as she stood rooted to the spot. Perhaps she shouldnt have leapt from the carr
iage. His expression made her repent all her rash actions for the last month at
least.
The earl still faced her and nodded as if to remind her she was no longer needed
. And just over his shoulder loomed a dark, menacing giant. As the baron approac
hed, she tried to catch his eye. Funny, Clun wasnt fixing her with his death-to-a
ll-before-me gaze. Rather, he was attempting to penetrate the back of her fathers
skull with his most lethal look.
She sent her maid ahead, the earl said over his shoulder, but I promise, Clun, when
next you two meet, my daughter will be a pattern card of propriety. Please, dont
mind an innocent girls, er, foolishness.

* * *

The earl hadnt noticed his daughters absence.

From where he stood in the shadows, Clun saw that Elizabeth bore this shock stoi
cally. And unbidden, Cluns heart bled for her.
Possibly worse, the earls reproaches took the starch out of Elizabeths spine, leav
ing her with head bowed and shoulders bent. This infuriated Clun. The fault had
been his, not hers. If hed paid closer attention, if hed caught her arm in time, s
he wouldnt have been scuttling about Damogan Square at all.
Rather than listen to more of her fathers reprimands out of sight, the baron stro
de forward, temper rising, to end the diatribe. The earl greeted him and dismiss
ed her, but she refused to leave.
When Clun glanced up at her, she shook her head slightly. Her solemn eyes beseec
hed him. And in that instant, he saw it all: the pain, the pride, the fortitude,
the unequivocal love for her father, everything that made Lady Elizabeth Damoga
n so heartbreakingly perfect.
Please dont mind an innocent girls, er, foolishness, Lord Morefield said.
Clun took a deep breath and bowed to her father, I assure you, my lord, I appreci
ate your daughters unique spirit, she is perfectly delightful here he caught himse
lf and added, although our acquaintance has been brief, I am charmed, Lady Elizab
eth.
Gracious of you, young man, I vow. The earl glanced back at his daughter, What, sti
ll here Elizabeth? Go inside, if you please.
She accepted the earls dismissal meekly. Clun hated seeing her that way. Meek did
not suit her any better than the Furys out-of-date carriage dress.
Till we meet again, my lady, Clun called out to her as she climbed the stairs to t
he front door. I am ever your humblest servant, he added, just to annoy her. She s
traightened up stiffly and looked down at him. He smirked for good measure. Behi
nd her fathers back, she pulled a face before flinging herself inside. Clun chuck
led.
Thats better.
Hard to believe the earl hadnt missed her for the weeks shed run off. Clun couldnt
imagine anyone failing to notice Elizabeths absence. Even now, after hardly any t
ime elapsed, he ached. He felt it clearly, a distinct, uncomfortable hollowness
in his chest.
By God, it was true. Hearts ache, damn it all.
Hard on the heels of that unwelcome realization, came another. Hed let her go ins
isted on it. And shed ripped something out of him and took it with her when she f
lounced away. That explained the void he felt.

Well, that just tears it.

He was a prize idiot, make no mistake. How else would one describe a man who art
iculated the sensible thing to do and then out of sheer, unadulterated stupidity
did the opposite? Of all the wretched luck, he was not fond of her. Not a bloody
thing he could do about it. Hed have to ignore his not-fondness and carry on as h
e ought. At least, he promised himself, hed never forget that de Sayre men do not
figure in fairy tales. This, he knew in his bones.
He pondered the many evils of his present situation. Hed intentionally lost Eliza
beth, and must now suffer through Christmas, New Year and possibly the Season ne
xt spring to find some milquetoast alternative to marry instead. But the bittere
st pill to swallow was this: he would have to stand by while some poetry-spoutin
g, hair-for-brains beau wooed and won his Bess.
Wait.
Not his Bess, he corrected himself. Hed just forfeited use of the possessive. She
would never be his, and this stuck firmly in his craw.
The earl had been talking while Clun explored the far reaches of his own idiocy.
He heard not a word the older man said.
Lord Clun, the earl repeated, would you care for a brandy before you go on your way
?
He accepted, if only to postpone his departure from Elizabeths life.
The two men climbed the stone stairs to enter the house. The earl leaned heavily
on the wrought iron banister and his walking stick.
Thank you for your patience. As I was saying, Elizabeth is a good girl, impetuous
perhaps, but clever and loyal, if one makes allowances for her occasional overenthusiasm. A liveried footman held open the door and the men entered the grand f
oyer. She did not grow up with her mothers moderating influence, Im afraid.
Its nothing a sound spanking wont put to rights, Clun enunciated as Elizabeth reache
d the top of the stairs to the second floor. As hed expected, she spun around to
fix him with a filthy look. He answered with a grin calculated to exasperate her
. Her eyes started from her face and her cheeks flamed quite satisfactorily. The
n she stuck out her tongue at him.
Ha!
Yes, well, I never resorted to corporal punishment myself, the earl said without e
nthusiasm. I doubt it would have the desired effect.
Probably not, but always worth a try, Clun said, letting her digest his comment as
she eavesdropped. Clun finally admitted, In truth, I jest, your lordship. I woul
d never raise a hand to a woman, even if she were the most vexatious among her g
ender.
He looked up at her and she mouthed the word wag before storming out of sight.
Once in the library, the earl poured two brandies and handed one to the baron. T
hey raised their glasses.
To your happy marriage, the earl proposed.

My lord, Clun replied and brought his glass lightly against the earls. Clun did not
correct him. Elizabeth wanted to be rid of him and would inform her father so i
n the next few days. After that, he would be free not free exactly but he would
be unencumbered and again in need of suitable encumbrance.
One question still nagged at Clun. Though its long after the fact, my lord, may I
know why you thought I might suit your daughter?
The earl leaned back in his wing chair and steepled his thin hands. He contempla
ted his fingertips to gather his thoughts and replied, The Earl of Uxbridge 15spe
aks highly of you.
Does he? Clun swallowed much of his brandy in one go and let it sear his throat. U
xbridge had the Devils own sense of humor 16and he could be counted on to amuse h
imself by sowing mischief wherever opportunity left a fallow field.
I understand he will attend your nuptials.
Yes. He lost a wager.
A wager, you say?
With my friends.
What was the bet?
To quote Uxbridge, that no female with rank, dowry and all her faculties would marr
y me. Though in my defense, others in the regiment gave me almost even odds.
Ah, the earl said. Ive heard you cavalrymen are given to japery. Why wouldnt such a l
ady wish to marry you?
Why indeed, my lord, Clun murmured. Elizabeths voice in his head began to tick off
his faults: stubbornness, high-handedness, doltishness, insensitivity, pessimism
, especially pessimism, and generally being a lummox.
My wife married me for my fortune, the earl stated as he poured another measure of
brandy for each of them.
It was my understanding yours was a love match.
So it became, yes. Ours began as an arranged marriage contracted between two nobl
e houses. She brought the prestige of pedigree and I brought ground rents in the
City and considerable property south of Hyde Park. And a title, he said with a d
ry chuckle and handed Clun his refilled glass. Frankly, neither of us much liked
the other or the idea of marrying. We were young and headstrong, both of us. The
earl gave him a searching look. Do you wish to know what changed, Clun, or have m
y sentimental ramblings bored you already?
Yes. That is, no, Clun babbled. Not bored. Honored. Please, go on.
What changed? The earl closed his eyes, His beetle brows arched and he sighed. For
an instant, his face had the look of a much younger man. Everything changed thou
gh Im not sure how or why. One day she was the woman foisted on me by my dictator
ial father and the next, she was all that was winsome and essential to my happin
ess. We were married four years before she conceived. As God is my witness, I wa
s never happier than while married to my Bess, the earl said, and never more lost
than when she left me a widower.
I am sorry for your loss, Clun said, though it was long ago.

As am I. I do so wish Bess couldve seen our daughter grow up. The earl fell silent,
his eyes closed, long fingertips still touching.
Clun
the
rthy
She

said nothing to disturb the older mans reverie. The earl

present with a sniffle, Bess made me promise to find our
husband and arrange her marriage. She insisted on it even
was extremely headstrong. And I warn you, Elizabeth takes

recalled himself to
baby Elizabeth a wo
as she lay dying.
after her.

Forgetting his circumstances, Clun said, I am up to the challenge, I believe.

As do I, the earl replied. It is the fashion to seek a love match in the hopes of a
ssuring happiness after vows are said. There are no guarantees in love or marria
ge. There is only doing ones best. Elizabeth will do her best, Lord Clun. She wil
l make you a fine wife. And to answer your question more directly, gentlemen app
roached me, but none impressed. I accepted you because you are universally ackno
wledged an honorable, steadfast man. You have want of a wife not a dowry and hav
e been most generous in the marriage settlement. You will make a fine husband fo
r my daughter.
Thank you, my lord, Clun said around a lump in his throat. Why this mans praise aff
ected him, he couldnt say. Perhaps it was the closest hed ever come to a parents ap
proval.
I knew your father, the earl continued as if hearing Cluns thoughts.
Clun tensed.
You are his image. The earl smiled at him. Never met a man who loved life more than
he. Marvelous sense of humor. Your parents marriageUnfortunate situation, that. I
t did neither party credit. As I say, there are no guarantees.
I would not abandon Elizabeth or our children, Clun vowed, forgetting hed never mar
ry the earls daughter.
Your father did what he thought best. He was an honorable man, too.
Was he?
More than most. Refused to ostracize his by-blow though life was made difficult f
or him thereafter. I enjoyed his acquaintance, dined with him at the club on occ
asion. Excellent company, as I say. Proud of you and your half-brother.
Ah.
Sensing Cluns tension, the earl changed the subject, Of course, I hope you and Eli
zabeth come to love one another. One cannot help loving Elizabeth, but then, Im b
iased, naturally.
I am told de Sayre men cannot love.
Judge the source, the earl advised, the Lord Clun I knew loved well.
I must take your word for it. I didnt know my father.
Pity. I daresay youd have liked him. The earl sipped his brandy and allowed the sil
ence. Clun drained his glass and set it softly on a side table.
Thank you, your lordship. I am honored by your confidence and will do my best for
your daughter, I give you my word. He stood and bowed to the earl. The hour is la

te, Ill see myself out.

Youll forgive me for not getting up, the earl said with a wave of a hand at his thi
n legs. Good night, Clun.

* * *

In her bedroom, Elizabeth ruminated about her wretched homecoming. The earl made
painfully clear he hadnt dispatched any Bow Street runners. He hadnt even missed
her while she jaunted about on her own. That shocked her, though it hurt no wors
e than the earls usual inattention had over the years. It mortified her far more
that Lord Clun had witnessed her humiliation.
Hed stalked out of the shadows looking dark and dangerous while her father critic
ized her. He mightve demanded an end to their engagement on the spot. He didnt. In
stead, he complimented her spirit. That likely choked him! (Hadnt he often compla
ined about her lunatic gypsy behavior in Shropshire?)
She would never forget Cluns expression. It wasnt pity for her but anger at the ea
rl, for her sake. He stepped forward to speak up for her. And when she caught hi
s eye and shook her head no, he swallowed his anger for her sake as well.
Then of all the gall, he suggested spanking her just to exasperate her. She was
spitting mad while she hung over the bannister listening to him and she stuck ou
t her tongue when he looked up. Well, he deserved it, being so outrageous. Was i
t her fault if he made her forget her mortification, ignore all bounds of propri
ety and behave like an unmannerly brat? No.
Oh!
Clun meant to do it. His teasing appalled her and raised her hackles and her spi
rits. Laughing aloud, Elizabeth recognized another sign of affection: chivalry.
His interpretation of chivalry left something to be desired. Still, she sighed,
it was sweet of him.
With understanding came hope.
The baron was a man of his word. He would let her end their betrothal as she saw
fit. Elizabeth resolved it would end but not as he expected. No. It would only
end with Lord Clun at St. Georges, Hanover Square, even if she had to tow him the
re kicking and screaming.
Poor Clun.
No matter how furious it might make him, he would have to accept one measly, min
or obstacle to his plan for a loveless marriage: she would not cry off.

* * *

On the way to his townhouse in North Audley Street, Clun took stock. He knew it
would be wiser to go off and sulk in Shropshire while fate found Elizabeth a bet
ter match. The baron also suspected it would be unwise to attempt his second bri
de hunt with her distracting him from whomever else might be prevailed upon to m
arry him.
At that moment, however, Clun was not a wise man. He was a man deeply, reluctant
ly in love. And as any number of poets and authors have noted, a man in this con
dition is prone to do epically stupid, self-defeating things. Case in point, Clu
n decided to stay in London and circulate to keep an eye on Elizabeth for her own
good.
The next morning, Clun made a most unpleasant discovery: his mother.

Chapter 16
In which hell hath no Fury (because shes in Mayfair).

As his lordship descended the staircase in the morning, he overheard a footman a

nd parlormaid whisper back and forth about gunpowder and sparks sure to come.
Puzzling.
The townhouse bustled in a way that surprised him as he walked to the morning ro
om. He smelled coffee, bacon and all manner of breakfast fare and the aromas sha
rpened his appetite. Servants bowed or curtseyed to him as they hurried past. He
wondered how did they know hed arrived? Distracted, he entered the sunlit room.
Good mor-ning, the baroness sang with brittle cheer from her seat at the far end o
f the table, late though it is.
If he hadnt been a strapping man in the prime of life, Clun mightve dropped dead o
n the spot.
Lady Clun surveyed her son with pale, almost colorless, aquamarine eyes under th
in eyebrows arched in permanent surprise. At the corners of her lips, creases po
inted down parenthetically on either side of her chin, giving her mouth the appe
arance of a smile fixed upside down on her face. Her clothing was expensive and
elegant, her posture upright and her body thick without softness. The Fury, in t
he flesh.
Clun wished to wake up so he pinched himself hard and hissed.
Fortunately, she wore a walking dress, which meant she was going out to shop, ca
ll on friends or visit a subscription library and give him a chance to recover f
rom the shock. He strolled to the sideboard, helped himself to coddled eggs, bac
on and toast and sat at the tables other end. He stabbed into his food. Everythin

g on his plate except the bacon tasted of bile. He sipped his cup of tea and wai
ted.
You were in Bath, I understand, she chirped, an opening salvo with more to come.
Duke of Ainsworths wedding, he answered.
So I heard. How nice.
How in Gods name had she heard that? Hed raced off to Bath on a whim and a bet to
help his friend Ainsworth. (Much good it did the man.) He hadnt written or mentio
ned anything to anyone at the castle or The Graces for that matter. Only a few s
ervants in London knew about that trip.
Was someone in the Furys pocket?
Clun sipped his tea, now furious. If there was a spy, he would have to root out
and deal with her ladyships hireling.
She buttered a piece of toast thoroughly, her smallest finger curled above her g
rip on the little sterling butter knife. I heard something else curious. (Scrape,
scrape.) Nothing much to mention, (Scrape.) but, as your mother, I thought I ought.
What was that?
Why, that youre secretly betrothed to the Earl of Morefields daughter.
He choked as inconspicuously as possible.
Youve yet to introduce her to me, William. She bit into the toast with a fierce, li
ttle crunch.
Ah, his Christian name hurled down the long table at him.
How do these ridiculous rumors arise? He murmured without making eye contact.
The earl mentioned something about it to me the other day, dear, she said, putting
a stilettos point on the word dear.
Lady Clun had been forever telling him to leave his bride hunt to her and now sh
e was furious he hadnt. She caught him out. Though living in Wales most of the ye
ar, she managed to remain apprised of the latest on dit, including his own doing
s and whereabouts. Even a bookish semi-recluse like Morefield knew her. At some
recent jollification, the earl mustve bumped into her and mentioned it, assuming
she knew. Damn.
Clun examined his self-involved, self-pitying mother. She stared back, eyes brig
ht with reproof. Wouldnt this give her a big, splintery, new cross to bear! To wi
t, the fruit of her loins, her only son and here she would heave a theatrical si
gh kept his betrothal a secret from his own mother. Add to all the other joyless
tasks he faced before the years end, the Fury was here to subject him to her hab
itual fault-finding and vitriol, served with a spoonful of treacle. Clun ground
his teeth.
Dont grind your teeth, dear, youll wear them to stubs. Just like your father, terri
ble teeth.
If youll excuse me, I have a full day. Must make an early start, he said and stood.
Will you return to Wales for Christmas?

Oh I couldnt say. I am enjoying myself at the moment. Ive so missed London, the pri
vate balls and fetes, the drapers and warehouses, the entertainments, Drury Lane
, Vauxhall, Covent Garden I simply adore the theater but most especially better
Society! Much as I enjoy my castle, I languish whilst so many interesting things
are afoot in Town.
It was his castle, but he didnt correct her. In effect, hed ceded it to her when h
e went off to war. (Had he died, it wouldve been the heir presumptives unenviable
task to evict her.) As for interesting things, he knew she meant in particular his
betrothal to Elizabeth.
Clun tried again, For how long will I have the pleasure of your company?
I didnt realize I needed your permission to stay however long I wanted. Really. Ne
xt youll expect me to give vails to the servants!
That was no answer. By rights and as a common courtesy, she shouldve asked him be
fore coming to roost in North Audley Street. Again, he let the matter go. She di
d not.
Not that you were here to ask, Clun. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find y
ou missing. And where is poor Fewings? At sixes and sevens no doubt, she continue
d, You hare off to Bath on a whim then send your man back to London whilst you di
sappear off the face of the earth. You ought to have a valet installed at each o
f your properties. Or keep your staff better informed.
Did my staff expect you, maam?
I am not you, I am merely your mother the baroness and only that until you marry
the Damogan chit, poor thing, she added reflexively.
Her words rankled what few undisturbed nerves he still possessed.
Her steady, considering look made Clun even more uncomfortable. What else had th
e Fury gleaned from her cronies? Or the earl? He consciously relaxed to disguise
any sign of anxiety. She had a predators instinct for fear and no compunction ab
out exploiting ones vulnerability.
Good day, he said with a nod and ceded the morning room to her. Over time, he woul
d probably yield most of the London townhouse to her occupation, excepting his s
uite upstairs and the study.
It simply wasnt worth the row.

Chapter 17
In which our heroine is determined to help our hero, poor Lord Clun.

When Elizabeth awoke, she recalled slowly it was the morning after her betrothed
had herded her to the steps of her fathers townhouse in front of the mortified e
arl. Without her ladys maid Eleanor Washburn to prod her, she contemplated remain
ing abed. No. That was not her way of dealing with setbacks.

Elizabeth expected Washburns return from her surprise holiday that day or the next1
7. In the meantime, an upper maid could help her dress for the day. Her first no
te must go to Constance Traviston to invite her for tea later.
Elizabeth rang for a tray. Shed missed her morning cocoa and buttered rolls while
she was gone, but she had not once missed the fog.
Londons odd variegated miasma fascinated her in a morbid way. With a breeze, it t
hinned to a scrim of dirty-shirt-cuff gray hanging everywhere in the city. On a
still, late autumn day like this, it coagulated into clots of ungodly dinginess
in one of an alarming spectrum of vile colors. It might be blackish purple as a
bruise, green as phlegm, excremental brown, or now a streaky orange shade shed ne
ver seen before. As sunlight struggled through, it created the metropolitan anal
og of a rainbow. Shed grown up seeing this fog in Town and had yet to become accu
stomed to it.
London was not always thus enshrouded, of course. On clear, breezy days, it was
lovely. In summer, the plane trees broad canopies of greenery shaded the streets
and pavements. Without their leaves in autumn, the tree branches would appear li
ke crazing on a Wedgewood blue sky, if the air were clear. This day, however, di
d not dawn clear. It dawned, well, marmalade.
It was doubly hard to reconcile herself to this urban prospect because Elizabeth
awoke briefly under the impression that she was still at The Graces. Beyond her
windows there, the days dawned either clear or overcast not jammy. A clear day
presented lavender, coral, gold and cerise colored clouds at dawn. And featured
birdsong, the joyous throbbing of larks and thrushes and the mewing calls of pip
its. On Damogan Square, she heard the clip-clop of horses, the rumble of cartwhe
els on cobblestones and the burbling of pigeons on the sill. Farther off, newsbo
ys competed with milkmen and muffin men to hawk their wares over one another.
After her morning ablutions, Elizabeth opened her bedroom door and asked the fir
st passing maid to dress her. She slipped into undergarments, light corsetry and
a comfortable, Mameluke-sleeved cotton percale morning dress with green ribbon
trim. Much as she welcomed wearing her own clothes, they fit like a strangers, fo
r she had lost weight on her western adventure. Now, her short stays stayed a bi
t loose at her bosom even laced up tight. Her frock fit as ill as the corset. Th
e maid tied the ribbons tighter behind her to take up the slack.
Mlady, if I may, you must eat or youll fade to nothing fore youre wed.
Elizabeth offered no rebuke for the young maids impertinence, touched that someon
e noticed and expressed concern. Im fine, really. Thank you, Hester.
The blushing maid plaited and pinned Elizabeths hair into a chignon.
Thats very well done, thank you, Elizabeth dismissed her with a smile.
She debated wearing a cap. Strictly speaking, she ought to as a twenty-year-old
woman, but lace caps were too fussy by half. She hesitated before tossing it bac
k into a dresser drawer. Another nit-picky stricture ignored, and her scandalous
want of delicacy demonstrated.
Elizabeths impatience with rules and other hoydenish impulses probably explained
why her life ricocheted off obstacles without forward progress. Only consider he
r current dilemma: shed run away to avoid marriage to Lord Clun only to realize s
hed like nothing better. Now, his resistance to the match was their sole impedime
nt. It was so vexing to have been hoist with her own petard.

She stared into the Cheval glass. So much had changed since she last wore this d
ress. She was a different person no, a different woman. Soft, girlish features w
ere now refined. Her jawline had definition, her eyes a new steadiness and her c
heekbones, patrician prominence. She had no clear idea how to proceed and no Mrs
. Abeel to guide her, but calmly looking back at her in the mirror, Elizabeth sa
w a woman who could make of her life what she desired.
She sat at her escritoire, dashed off her note to Constance, sealed it and sent
for a footman to walk it over.
As far as Elizabeth was concerned, the only good to come of her return to London
was having her best friends company and support in Society. Unless, that is, the
earl confined her to the house in perpetuity after last nights harum-scarum horr
ification.
Constances reply confirmed tea together. Depend on Con to postpone plans to find
out about her mysterious adventure.
Elizabeth prayed her friend would have advice on brokering peace with intractabl
e barons.

Chapter 18
In which the mysteries of Man are elucidated.

Elizabeth had known Constance Traviston since they were very young. And in ways
most important to genuine friendship, they were much alike. Both were spirited,
well-read young ladies who valued intelligence, resourcefulness and good-humor.
Both were born into mind-boggling riches but paid it no mind. In fact, they pref
erred to use their ample pin money to support Lady Jane Babcocks pet causes or to
pay subscription fees at circulating libraries such as Hookhams and Miss Flinders
shop by Walpole rather than waste it on frivolous furbelows.
They were literally close, too. The Damogans resided at the head of the eponymou
s square; the Travistons lived at its foot in an equally imposing mansion at No.
10.
When the girls were little, they played together in the gated park at the center
of square under the watchful eyes of their nannies. While growing up, they spen
t time together at one house or the other and frequently shared a footman to sho
p in the Strand, or in New Bond Street. They listened, rapt, to Mrs. Abeels seafa
ring adventures and learned the intricacies of court etiquette from Lady Petra.
They enjoyed the closeness of being sisters without the strife of sibling rivalr
y.
Mrs. Abeel had been too elderly to undertake the full rigors of Elizabeths first
Season in 1813. So without fuss, Lady Petra organized Elizabeth and Constances co
me out as if they were in fact sisters. Thanks to Lady Petra, Elizabeth did reas
onably well, despite abbreviated men and their blatant bosom-ogling and despite
having a countenance that revealed rather too much of her opinion of both.
Elizabeths first season ended without a proposal, which suited her perfectly. Con

stance had offers, which she declined graciously. They both awaited men who caus
ed a quickening of their pulses and exhibited Mrs. Abeels sure signs of affection
.
The year 1814 did not bear reviewing. Mrs. Abeel passed away suddenly in late Ja
nuary. Elizabeth missed the Season, not that she cared. In 1815, at the end of h
er belated second Season, she still had no acceptable offers. So when Lord Clun
discreetly approached the earl, her father accepted him without so much as a by y
our leave. Her subsequent, rash actions were motivated by her outrage over the ea
rls disregard for her opinion.
That she ultimately agreed with her father was nothing but dumb luck. Still, it
did complicate matters.

Good as her word, Constance Traviston arrived at No. 1 Damogan Square at the app
ointed hour. Nettles ushered her into the morning room without formal announceme
nt. She was, after all, an intimate family friend. Shortly after tea arrived, th
e two settled in for a private chat. They stripped off their gloves to tuck into
teacakes and sip cups of Travistons Select Darjeeling.
Tell me everything, Lizzy. First, where on earth have you been? You forbade me to
ask after you here so Ive been agog to know everything. I began to wonder if the
baron had come early and whisked you off to Shropshire with nothing more than a
wedding by special license.
You would not credit it if I told you, Elizabeth replied, unsure how to raise the
subject she needed with her friend.
Did you go to Devonshire?
Not precisely.
Did you visit Jane in Bath?
Elizabeth shook her head slowly.
Where precisely were you then?
Promise you wont scold, Con.
Constance frowned. Oh, Lizzy, what have you done?
Nothing ruinous, I assure you.
Small comfort, but I give you my word. Not a peep of reproach, unless I cant help
gasping in horror, Constance said, clearly anticipating the worst.
Elizabeth considered her friend, their history and what Constance already knew a
bout her, and decided her pledge was the best she could expect. In short order,
Constance knew of Elizabeths recent misadventures in Shropshire with her betrothe
d. She gasped several times, but she said nothing reproachful.
So youll have him after all? Constance said and smiled her reassurance.
I would, if I hadnt bungled it.

Surely not.
Elizabeth gave her a look.
Oh, Lizzy, what happened?
I told him Id only marry for love and he wouldnt have me.
The beast!
From the start, he was frank about wanting an unemotional marriage, Elizabeth said
. Con, he insists romantic feelings lead to resentment and worse. In fact, hes ada
mantly opposed to love, on principal.
What a cods head.
So we quarreled. I wont compromise because I am right. And he wont compromise becau
se he is wrong and refuses to admit it.
Perhaps, Constance hesitated, Lord Clun is right from his perspective. Some men see
k marriages of convenience. It was a rather cold-blooded arrangement, dont you th
ink?
But he pledges to honor his vows and I believe him. He wont stray.
Perhaps hes cold hearted.
He wasnt always cold toward me. In fact, he was warm when first we met and rather
affectionate thereafter, she mumbled, recollecting the bearskin rug. He grew chill
y suddenly. Im not certain why. Elizabeth looked at her friend. What am I to do?
One cannot force a man to feel something, Lizzy.
But hes shown several unmistakable signs of affection. Hes been protective and thou
ghtful with hints of possessiveness, also chivalry. And I believe there is a phy
sical affinity. At least, I feel it.
Mother says that to understand a man, one must first comprehend immutable male be
havior, Constance began.
Elizabeth beamed at her friend. Lady Petra was an unimpeachable source of useful
information.
Constance whispered, If one sets ones cap at a man, he is certain to withdraw. If
hes a gentleman, he withdraws for your sake. If hes not interested, he also does s
o, for his own sake.
Elizabeth frowned. Theres no discerning his motive if the outcomes are the same.
Constance raised a finger and continued, If, on the other hand, one withdraws fro
m him, a man with a tendre will pursue. He cannot help himself. A disinterested
man will let you go. And the easiest way to withdraw, Lizzy, is to resume your l
ife.
Resume my life?
In full. Pursue your interests. Well go to libraries, the opera, lets support Janes
efforts against animal cruelty and prepare for Christmas. Advent will bring heap
s of invitations. You mustnt ruminate about him. It serves no purpose.

Right, I can do that. I feel better already, Con.

Second, Constance continued, Mother says men deny emotions because feelings are unp
redictable and worse, uncontrollable. Yet, men act on the feelings they deny bec
ause they cannot help themselves. Therefore, a mans actions reveal all.
I must live my life and judge his actions not his frequent, dyspeptic pronounceme
nts on love, Elizabeth summarized then added, Clun is often gruff with me, Con. Hes
gruff in general, but hes behaved thoughtfully at times.
Good, Constance said and patted Elizabeths hand. But you must keep contact with him
to a minimum. Ideally, one set at a ball or assembly, no more.
One? To what end?
To see if he wants another, silly.
And if he doesnt?
Give him time. After a number of parties, youll have an answer, Constance told her
firmly. If he passes that test, theres another. You must be very careful with this
.
Of course, I always am, she lied, thinking again of lounging on the man whilst he
sprawled in dishabille atop his bearskin rug. Tell me, Con.
I probably shouldnt. You can be awfully heedless, Constance shook her head. With emp
hasis on awful. Shropshire, Lizzy, what a notion!
Never mind about Shropshire. Ill be circumspect, I promise, Elizabeth cried.
Constance narrowed her eyes and repeated: Shropshire.
I had no choice. Elizabeth wrung her friends hands to beseech her. I was running awa
y. Now Im not.
Constance relented. Promise me youll be careful, Lizzy. If youre not, youll end up m
arried to a very unhappy man.
I promise, Con.
Find an opportunity to be private with him at some to-do, say, on a terrace in a
shadow. Here, Constance shook her head. Its a shame no one knows youre betrothed, it
wouldnt be so improper to seek some privacy in that case. Ah well, do what you c
an with propriety. Then when youre alone, speak in a whisper so he must lean clos
e to hear you.
Elizabeth frowned. And when hes close?
Wait and see.
Elizabeth eyed her. I dont see how doing nothing will encourage a disclosure.
Its not what he might say, Constance reminded her, but what he might do.
Oh. Elizabeth smiled. Yes, I see.

Chapter 19
In which universal truths of Society become self-evident.

Town tabbies delighted in handicapping each years debutantes in their race to the
nuptial finish. They weighed comparative rank, prestige and qualities of counte
nance, bearing, manners and dress, in much the same way gentlemen of leisure jud
ged contending thoroughbreds in a cross-country event. These worthies opined end
lessly about who had the bloodlines, who the stamina and who the je ne sais quoi
to make the Seasons most brilliant matches. Of all assets, however, there was no
greater advantage than money.
An ample dowry usually offset any number of disadvantages in whatever unfortunat
e combination they might occur. A pudgy, whey-faced asthmatic with a markedly lo
w center of gravity, for example, still had charm when considered properly from
the perspective of her 20,000 dowry. Whereas, all despaired of a pretty enough mi
ss with a paltry 1000.
As a result, they were fascinated by the social singularity of Lady Elizabeth Da
mogans unmarried state three years after her come-out.
If her betrothal to Lord Clun had been public knowledge, it would have silenced
the snide witticisms about over-tall Lady Elizabeths shortfalls, such was the pre
stige of Lord Cluns lineage.18 Instead, these harpies entertained themselves by d
issecting Lady Elizabeths and Miss Constance Travistons divergent experiences in t
he Marriage Mart.
Everyone agreed the two gels were fabulously dowered, lovely in face, lissome in f
igure and well spoken. Both dressed with quiet elegance, each to suit her own lo
oks. It was their differences, declared the tabbies, that brought a charming vis
count up to scratch for the Traviston chit and left Lady Elizabeth as yet unclai
med. They held forth on the causes of this discrepancy, offering a thorough exeg
esis of each contributing factor behind their fans.
First, catty matrons pointed out, the two were physical opposites with wildly di
ssimilar abilities. Constance was a petite blonde who excelled at all feminine a
ccomplishments; Elizabeth was a brown haired Long Meg who couldnt sing or play th
e pianoforte or the harp. (Here, the eye rolling began.) There were even rumors
that Lady Elizabeths instrument was a sailors hornpipe, for heavens sake. Furthermore
, she gladly joined other instrumentalists at informal dances. To this, a matron
might add with a smirk that by happy chance, the hornpipe fits in a reticule so
she might exhibit at every opportunity.
Second, Constance was demure; Elizabeth was rather too straightforward and outsp
oken. Whats more, her independence savored of bluestocking tendencies. Constance
was ethereal; Elizabeth her earthy opposite. Constance attracted men; Elizabeth
challenged them. And few men, these ladies agreed, ever enjoyed being proved wro
ng or looked down upon. Though (titter, titter) she could hardly help looking do
wn on most men, could she?
Third, Constance had a mother who was alive, mindful of the proprieties and very
good ton; while the late Countess of Morefield, though very good ton, was all b
ut forgotten twenty years after her passing. Furthermore, the earls eccentric cou
sin Mrs. Abeel, a widow with marked bluestocking proclivities, had raised Elizab
eth and influenced her unduly.

Fourth, Elizabeth might have formal precedence over Constance as the Earl of Mor
efields daughter, but the origins of both families were essentially commercial. T
he ennoblement of one and not the other was the merest happenstance. Besides, th
e difference wouldnt matter much longer. The title would be vacant upon the earls
death, amounting to little more than a line in Debretts Peerage & Baronetage.
The earldom in its third creation began with Lady Elizabeths grandfather. When Ge
orge III needed to finance a war against the rebellious American colonies, Mr. D
amogans low-interest loans bought muskets and hired Hessians aplenty. The king el
evated him to an earldom in gratitude. It was well known that George III wouldve
also ennobled Constances grandfather, Robert Traviston, if only the king hadnt gon
e off barking mad in the meantime.19
Lady Elizabeths father, the second Earl of Morefield, was in order of preference
a scholar, a nabob and a peer of the realm. He took little pleasure in the ton,
these women observed. He was not antisocial so much as he was distractedly asoci
al. When he wasnt accumulating more parcels of real estate, he was collecting Eng
lish words of Anglo-Saxon origin into a dictionary for the three or four other p
eople in the kingdom similarly enthralled. To that end, he happily holed up in h
is library with antique reference books for hours on end, which did Lady Elizabe
th no earthly good.
True, he lavished on his daughter a dowry that would boggle the most avaricious
mind , yet she was still unmarried. If such a dowry couldnt help her, they pointe
d out, the earl would be of little practical assistance until he left her an obs
cenely rich orphan. The entailed estate in Devonshire would revert to the crown,
of course. The bulk of Damogan property was his to bequeath to his only child,
which made Elizabeth an heiress with few peers. Yet, she proved an impossible yo
ung woman to woo if a gentleman was of average height and normal libido20.
All material considerations being comparable, these matrons concluded, responsib
ility for Elizabeths difficulties must be laid at the late Mrs. Abeels feet. She h
ad overindulged if not actively encouraged the girls headstrong nature.
As a result, no one was surprised Constance Traviston and Viscount Speare became
, according to the Observer, twin stars in the social firmament. Their love develo
ped with charmed inevitability and to universal approbation. Meanwhile, Lady Eli
zabeth glared down at men and was dismissed by all but craven fortune hunters as
freakishly tall and dashed difficult to please.
Though society matrons might label her upbringing her lifes greatest misfortune,
Elizabeth felt blessed to have known Mrs. Abeel, who had no toleration for polite
stupidities that kept an intelligent, enterprising young girl from living her d
reams and seeking adventure. Mrs. Abeel proved that, despite the constraints of p
rivilege, a genteel woman could have the time of her life whilst married to her
beloved.
Most important, Mrs. Abeel loved and respected Elizabeth and taught her to love
and respect herself.
If Society considered self-respect an unfortunate character trait, Elizabeth dec
ided, that was just too bad.

Chapter 20

In which a minx lets the cat out of the bag.

Days passed. Clun waited for word that, with sincere regret on the Earl of Moref
ields part, Lady Elizabeth wished to end their betrothal. None came. Part of him
wanted the pain over quickly, especially when gripped by irrational impulses whi
lst watching her dance with every benighted bachelor on this side of the English
Channel. Another part of him, equally irrationally, hoped she would change her
mind, hold her nose and marry him.
At one such social torment, the Berkeley fte, fellow Horsemen of the Apocalypse,
Mr. Percy, Lord Seelye and the Duke of Ainsworth, with his new duchess, found Cl
un muttering to himself.
Surrounds herself with fops, peacocks and dandiprats, the baron growled to no one
in particular.
Stop grumbling and offer Percy your congratulations, Seelye instructed Clun as his
friends gathered around him.
Whatever for?
After all of his mysterious doings on the continent, Percy shall achieve nobility
of the sword. Hell be elevated to a viscountcy in his own right, Seelye explained
with an exaggerated bow to Percy.
Only if the Prince Regent doesnt think the better of it in the meantime, Percy said
with characteristic self-deprecation.
Property? Clun asked.
Small estate and a London townhouse, nothing lavish, but its more than I deserve.
I detest false modesty, Percy, Clun snapped. About time Prinny acknowledged your po
st-war efforts, whatever they were.
Youre always so deuced vague about it. What have you been up to, Percy? Seelye aske
d.
This and that, nothing much of note, he replied smoothly.
And you were doing those where exactly? Seelye pursued, trying to discomfort the u
nflappable Mr. Percy by probing his mysteries.
Here and there, he replied with a shrug. I must say, Ainsworth, your duchess looks
remarkably well.
Seelye threw up his hands. The mans an enigma.
The baron helped divert attention from Percy by asking, Any other glad tidings of
which I should be aware? He looked directly at Prudence, Duchess of Ainsworth, w
ho blushed and instinctively brought a hand to her belly. Good God, Ainsworth, al
ready? Clun reproached the grinning duke then turned back to his duchess of a few
months to warn, Early success will only encourage him, Your Grace.
That is my hope, Lord Clun, she replied with a madonnas smile. Have you any news you
wish to share at this point, your lordship? Lowering her voice, she added, I unde

rstand congratulations are due for an engagement.

Been betrothed for ages. All very hush hush. Youre bad as Percy, Clun. Why not go
on and marry the chit? Might improve your mood, Seelye said.
The baron harrumphed but remained otherwise silent.
Hes in foul temper because the Furys underfoot and circulating in the ton, Seelye ex
plained to the rest. Might scare off the fiance.
Then marry sooner than later, the duchess said with an encouraging smile.
Not likely, Clun muttered. My betrothed has decided against me.
A few more years of freedom then, lucky man, Percy said and patted his back.
She hasnt seen fit to end our engagement either, Clun replied.
An awkward silence ensued until Seelye and Percy sputtered. Ainsworth tried to r
emain solemn. His nostrils flared suspiciously and he had to clamp his lips clos
ed. Her Grace rolled her eyes while most of the tall men around her convulsed as
quietly as possible.
Chit wont have you and wont let go? Shes got you by the short hairs, eh? Seelye chort
led and shook his head. First Ainsworth, now you. Demme if this doesnt prove theres
a curse on us Horsemen. No other explanation for why women would be so reluctan
t to have you two. Youre the eligible ones.
Cursed, quite, Percy said, wiping his eyes and trying to compose himself. Most unfo
rtunate, he squeezed out. My sympathies, Clun. Truly. He turned away to muffle his
snorts in a handkerchief while Seelye and Ainsworth struggled with themselves an
d failed.
The duchess ignored them. What will you do, Lord Clun?
Cant do a thing, Clun said and scowled all around. Its for the lady to cry off, as th
ey well know. A fresh barrage of sputters and spittle came from Cluns loathsome fr
iends.
Do you wish her to? The duchess asked gently.
I wish whatever the lady wishes, he said and shifted restlessly as the sniggering
ninnies brought themselves back to order. But I wish shed make up her infernal min
d.
You can imagine how little Clun enjoys being led around by the nose, Seelye added,
huffing to prevent another, unseemly collapse. But by God, its rare entertainment
.
Maybe shes waiting for an appropriate moment, Percy suggested.
And when would that be? Clun growled.
When youre deep in the forests of Shropshire far, far away, Seelye piped up and set
Percy off again.
While Cluns friends failed to cheer him, Prudence whispered to her husband, I dont
believe the baron wants his engagement to end.
Did he say that? The duke murmured in her ear.

He didnt have to, Jem, she replied.

As always, nymph, I defer to your omniscience. The duke brushed a surreptitious ki
ss on her ear.
God only knows why she hesitates, given the opportunity to be shot of you! Seelye
teased the baron.
The feeling is mutual, Clun retorted.
From behind him came the voice that sent lightning down his spine. Elizabeth sai
d only Lord Clun and his heart missed a beat.
Clun turned slowly and took in the gossamer hint of a gown she wore. It was the
damnedest dress in all Christendom. Its color almost matched exactly the color o
f her skin blushing. Its bodice somehow fluffed her bosom and the rest of it flo
wed over her body to catch the light and allow shadow to pool between her legs a
s she sauntered toward him. It was the most distracting garment any female had e
ver worn in the entire history of mankind.
With his luck, he fumed, he would dream of peeling the frock from her and wake u
p stiff as a fence post each morning for a fortnight.
She dipped into a graceful curtsey.
Damnable, damnable gown.

* * *

Elizabeth overheard Cluns friends tease him about being unable to extricate himse
lf from their engagement. The only lady in the group tried unsuccessfully to que
ll them then whispered something to the tallest man. Elizabeth heard with mortif
ying clarity Cluns last riposte. Her temper boiled over.
A few by-standers also overheard enough to be intrigued. They watched and waited
for worse.
In her fury, Elizabeth made an impetuous decision. Rather than slip away humilia
ted, she stalked up to Clun and his friends.
Lord Clun, Elizabeth said evenly. He turned to face her and she curtseyed. At leas
t he had the good grace to blush at his faux pas.
Lady Elizabeth. Good evening. The beef wit bowed to her finally after he quit gawk
ing.
Is it? She kept her tone light, but he heard her meaning. He looked from face to f
ace among his friends.
The lone woman spoke up, Clun, would you be so kind?

Your Grace, Duke, may I present Lady Elizabeth Damogan, the Earl of Morefields dau
ghter, Clun began.
Elizabeth curtseyed deeply.
The duchess smiled warmly at her; the duke remained remote and formidable.
Clun continued, Lady Elizabeth, may I present the Honorable George Percy and Lord
Seelye. She acknowledged with perfect propriety the leonine Mr. Percy and the sl
immer, more fashionable Lord Seelye. The men bowed. Percys tawny gaze lingered on
her bosom, fouling Elizabeths mood and making her more rash.
I assume Clun has mentioned we are engaged, Elizabeth said with a dry laugh, as sh
e slipped to the barons side and curled her hand around his arm. She drove her fi
ngernails into his bicep till he winced. I hope youll wish us luck, she concluded w
ith a challenging smirk up at him.
I certainly do, Percy said smoothly. Best wishes, my lady. Sincerest congratulation
s, Clun.
Seelye said what was proper, muttering afterward about the chit needing more tha
n luck under his breath.
Every happiness, Lady Elizabeth, Prudence drew her away from Clun to kiss her chee
k and whispered, Men can be such clods, but Clun is dear, as you must know.
While the unhappy couple collected best wishes from Cluns circle, word spread. La
dy Elizabeth was betrothed. The lady herself announced it. The ballroom buzzed w
ith the news: Lord Clun had won the plushest prize of recent Seasons.
Most of Elizabeths beaux had known their chances with her were almost nil so they
accepted the news philosophically. Only one suitor was put out by her disclosur
e, but he was badly put out indeed.

* * *

Stunned by her indiscretion, Clun stood rooted to the spot. He couldnt very well
contradict her. Nor could he make sense of this development. He prided himself o
n the thoroughness of his mental preparation for calamity. By anticipating the v
ery worst that could happen, he always had an appropriate response for any event
uality. In this instance, even he hadnt foreseen this disaster. Was it a fit of p
ique or had she changed her mind?
Elizabeth certainly didnt appear particularly calm. Her nails nearly drew blood a
nd she looked daggers at him, which made her disclosure even more confounding. H
e wasnt the husband she wanted and she intended to cry off as a result. That made
sense. Announcing their doomed betrothal to a ballroom full of ton tattlers did
not. She was playing too damned deep for him to fathom. This left him feeling u
ncharacteristically off-balance. And ever so slightly pleased.
The emotion was, of course, short lived.

Clun knew one thing for an absolute certainty: Lord Morefields worst fear was abo
ut to be realized. Betrothed was not yet married. And every scheming fortune hun
ter would now draw a bead on Lady Elizabeth and her dowry. They would seek to sn
ag her by hook or by crook before a wedding put her safely out of reach.
Shed done this to herself without his doing anything and still she glared up at h
im as if it were his fault.
And if that wasnt bewildering enough, his stupid heart kept thumping maybe-maybemaybe.

Chapter 21
In which our hero is afflicted with popularity.

Clun enjoyed immersing himself in the haute ton almost as much as a cat enjoyed
a sudsy dunk in a hip bath. Nevertheless, as Lady Elizabeth Damogans betrothed, h
e was inundated with invitations that he accepted. Clun found himself attending
countless social functions not because he wanted to, but because he must. Had he
been honest with himself, he wouldve acknowledged that he went to these hellish,
frothy affairs to see Elizabeth and to flick off any nits that pestered her. In
stead, he told himself he must know the lay of the land to find a tolerable subs
titute once she flicked him off.
Whenever their paths crossed, Elizabeth remained aloof. She allowed Clun one set
, though they couldve danced a second without raising any eyebrows. To his chagri
n, one was not enough. Nor did being denied sit well. His pretense of indifferen
ce was hard enough to maintain while he endured countless insipid affairs just t
o claim his one dance and to insist it be a waltz.
Finally taxed beyond all endurance, he started demanding a second merely for app
earances sake, or so he growled at her, Wouldnt do for a ladys betrothed to ignore h
er for all but one dance.
She smiled demurely and allowed it.

The Duke of Baths November birthday ball for his youngest sister Lady Jane was a
crush. Lord Seelye found the baron brooding in the shelter of a sprawling potted
palm against the ballrooms far wall after his first dance with Elizabeth.
The unseasonably mild evening encouraged the crowd to overflow onto the terrace
through several pairs of tall French doors.
God awful, Clun greeted Seelye while a frond tickled his neck and made him twitch.
Wheres Percy?
Hallo to you, too! Percyll show up later or not, man of mystery, et cetera. Enjoyi
ng yourself, Clun?

The baron swatted at the frond again. Dont be a chucklehead.

Seelye reached up and broke off the irritating frond. Tsk-tsk-tsk, why all the gl
owering? No ones forced you to attend, has she? He tickled the baron with the fron
d till Clun snatched it away from him and threw it into the palms pot.
What is Wilder doing? Clun demanded. Seelye peered around through his quizzing-gla
ss till he found the subject of Cluns grim scrutiny.
It appears he is dancing with the fiance you dont wish to marry.
I didnt say that. And he doesnt know that, Clun growled. Nothing but a fortune hunter
, that one.
He needs to marry well, as many of us must, Seelye acknowledged tartly, Who can bla
me the man for trying to obtain a tolerable female in the bargain?
Clun curled his lip and remained watchful.
The only other dowry as rich as hers is Lady Jane Babcocks. No ones up to snuff for
the infamous Ice Maiden, Seelye ground out.
Clun said, Hes a scoundrel.
Wilders no worse than any of others whove danced with her tonight. The belle of the
ball, she is. Lady Janes taken quite a pet, his lordship sniggered. After all, shes
been eclipsed by your Damogan chit at her own ball.
Clun corrected Seelye, Not mine.
Right. Seelye paid him no mind but continued to gloat, I do so love seeing Lady Jan
e in a pet, dont you?
Not particularly, youve developed a particular aversion to her.
Have I?
So I gather. Why not make her misery complete and dance with her? Im busy.
I think I shall, Seelye said. Youre a crustier crab than usual, Clun.
I have a great deal on my mind.
You have one thing on your mind and shes got you by the short and curlies.
Clun watched his friend saunter off, swinging his quizzing glass, to claim a dan
ce with Lady Jane.
He knew it was none of his business if Elizabeth wanted half of London dangling
after her, but so long as she was his betrothed, by Jove, hed see that every last
man behaved himself. He grew alarmed when the not-at-all Hon. Henry Wilder mane
uvered her through an open door and out into the darkness.
Without being aware of it, Clun found himself standing outside the nearest door.
Across the terrace, he spotted Elizabeth arm in arm with Wilder, who was leadin
g her to the stairs that led down to the torch-lit garden. It was full of tall h
edges and dark nooks ideal for assignations.
Lady Elizabeth, Clun spoke her name in a low voice.

She stopped and turned to face him, a flush stole up her neck to redden her chee
ks.
Lord Clun, Wilder said with a false smile pasted on his face. He was a blonde, fla
sh sort of fellow, dressed in vivid color like a fop on the strut in Hyde Park.
Clun saw no more reason to tolerate the man now than he had at High Wycombe.
Wilder, have you exhausted Lady Elizabeth with your dancing? Clun inquired quietly
.
Wilders eyes glittered as he replied, So it would seem. I thought merely to
Clun, really, Elizabeth said, I wanted some air.
Then I will be happy to provide it, he said and skewered Wilder with a look pointe
d enough to draw blood.
I had no idea you have a monopoly on fresh air, my lord, Wilder said with hollow b
ravado. No wonder youre so well situated.
Clun stared the man out of countenance.
Your betrothed wishes a word, I take it, Wilder said to her. Lady Elizabeth, as alw
ays, your servant. He bowed over her hand and left, skirting around Clun.
Was that necessary? She snapped. Youve humiliated me with that ridiculous display.
No. I have saved you from scandal, he lectured. Hes a louse of the first order. Neve
r, I repeat, never go skipping off into the moonlight with a loose screw like Wi
lder unless you wish to marry him. Or you wish him dead.
I only wanted some air.
And he only wanted your dowry.
Oh, I see. She turned away and said nothing more.
Too late, Clun realized hed hurt her feelings.
Rather than let the waterworks start where she might be seen or heard, he placed
a hand at the small of her back and guided her down the stairs into the shadows
of the garden. They walked together some distance in silence.
I didnt mean to imply he said eventually.
that a man could only find my fortune appealing? she faced him and finished in a br
eathy whisper.
He stopped. She wasnt crying, which was a relief. But she watched him much too cl
osely, which unnerved him.
I didnt mean to generalize, he said. To be clear, Wilder only wants your money. A wo
rthy man wouldnt give a snap about your dowry. Hed know how fortunate he was to be
with you. That dandiprat Wilder is unworthy.
The sounds of the ball filtered out into the garden. She moved closer.
Now Bess, hold there! He retreated further as she pursued with slow, hip-swinging
steps. The devilish look in her eyes made his mind stutter.

I would ask you this, my lord, she murmured. If you dont wish to marry me why snarl
like a dog in a manger to keep others away?
Her lower lip, the one he often dreamt of nibbling, caught Cluns eye. It looked e
dible. Again, she advanced and he retreated. This was his first tactical error.
He cleared his throat, Wilders a scoundrel. Trust me on this.
Trust you? She asked, taking one last step forward. He stumbled up against a large
tree.
For your sake, yes, he said. Tree bark dug into his back.
How considerate of you, Clun. I am deeply touched, she said softly. Her fingers to
uched her chest just where her bodice ended and her creamy, full breasts met. Why
have you steered me all the way out here? Were quite alone.
I meant to keep your crying private, Clun explained. He glanced right and left. Th
ey were alone in the dark.
Am I crying? She whispered.
He bent closer to hear her and looked into her eyes. This was his second tactica
l error.
Ahhh, no. I thought you might. I hurt you, I saw it.
I knew you meant to protect me and I appreciate it, Clun. I find your gallantry e
ndearing, if at times a little bruising.
She closed the distance between them. Clun looked down in alarm. Her breasts wer
e nearly brushing his chest. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight.
He babbled, Until you bring our betrothal to an end, Ill presume only to keep lout
s at bay.
She touched his forearm lightly. You still wish me to cry off?
No! No, no, no! His heart pounded in answer, but he said nothing. She smelled so
delicate. Sweet and fresh.
What in Gods name am I to do with you? Clun groaned and glanced down at her, imagin
ing what he would like to do, all the unspeakably carnal things he longed to do
to her, with her, for her. He tried to pry his slavering mind off the subject of
her pleasure; it was too happily engaged to oblige. Whats more, his body was in
wholehearted agreement, so he faced full mental and corporeal mutiny. This happe
ned more often than he cared to consider in her company. And it was damned incon
venient.
Nor could he defuse the situation. Strive as he might to ignore her beauty, he s
till suffered the ache in his loins hed come to associate with her. Wherever he l
ooked, he found greater torment. He couldnt glance at her shoulder for it led to
the long, silken column of her neck, which drew his attention lower to her breas
ts. Avoiding her shoulder, neck and breasts, his gaze rested on her nose, which
was unbearably pert, then slid to her cheek, which was far too soft to contempla
te, and finally in exhaustion, he eyed her lips.
With that, hed flung himself from the frying pan into the fire. Every benighted s
yllable her full, teasing lips let fall only heated his aching man parts to a ho

tter sizzle. Then, to add to his discomfort, she licked her lips. Even if he shu
t his eyes, the scent of her sun-ripened sweetness drugged him.
Well, what was he supposed to do?

* * *

Clun was confused, Elizabeth could see that. His actions contradicted all his il
l-tempered grumblings put together. And when he started growling about having a
second dance, shed wisely withheld comment even as her heart took wing.
After their first waltz at
h Mr. Wilder and wished to
d her from the ballroom to
urderous, scowled, growled

Lady Janes birthday ball, shed danced a country set wit

take the air after the rigors of the reel. He escorte
the terrace outside. Whereupon Clun emerged looking m
and chased Mr. Wilder away.

It was a primitive male display that called up an equally primitive response in

her. After he led her into the garden, she followed Constances advice instinctive
ly. Whisper, wait and see.
At first, he retreated from her, looking stone-faced. When she whispered, he did
lean closer. He looked her over, perused her carefully, with dark, restless eye
s. So she tilted her head up to wait, just as Constance suggested. He blinked. H
is Adams apple bobbed. She inhaled his clean, masculine scent and sighed. Well, i
t was more of a low moan that escaped her. She couldnt help it. Even in London, h
e smelled perfectly right somehow.
When Clun grasped her upper arms, her heart raced. He stared at her lips as thou
gh he might eat them, but she forced herself to wait. He bent closer until his m
outh hovered a hairs breadth above her own.
In the next instant, he closed his eyes and put her away from him, shaking his h
ead slowly.
Oh!
Her eyes burned. Through the blur, Clun stepped away, scraped his hair off his f
orehead and shot his cuffs. The parts of her body warmed by his heat now cooled.
His impassiveness chilled her further when he offered to escort her back to the
ballroom.
Do you need a moment to compose yourself?
She blinked back the sting in her eyes and smiled brilliantly, Dont be silly, Clun
, Im fine. If you still want your second dance, Ill oblige you.
It would be my pleasure.

* * *

Once inside, she withdrew her hand from Cluns arm. He caught it, held it and said
, If its trouble you seek, behaving that way will guarantee it.
I dont know what you mean, Lord Clun, she replied.
If youre not careful, Lady Elizabeth, Clun explained, I will demonstrate exactly wha
t I mean.
By God, if the time ever came, Clun seethed, hed seduce her till she knew how it
felt to find ones skin two sizes too small to contain all the sensations racing a
long every nerve and jangling every sense. Hed torment her. Hed bring her to the e
dge of release and then deny her. Over and over. All night. Hed taste her everywh
ere and make her cry and mew and beg him for mercy before he sated her. He would
, damn it, if he had the self-control.
Clun knew better at this point. He might intend to torment her only to end up do
ing whatever gave her pleasure because every particle of his being wanted to bri
ng her to ecstasy. He wanted to pulse and stroke within her till she trembled, g
athered and broke apart with him. Him.
His possessiveness also infuriated him. Fortunately, with anger came rational th
ought. This mad desire was the most dangerous part of his reaction to her.
He let her hand go. Without a word, they parted.
Lord Clun left the ball long before the strains of the evenings second waltz bega
n.

Chapter 22
In which our heroine meets the Fury.

Clun arrived fashionably late to the Denbeigh ball, preceding his mother by minu
tes. She materialized without warning on the Earl of Morefields arm wearing her s
ignature nest of dyed ostrich plumes writhing over her turbaned head. From the f
ar side of the ballroom, Clun watched in horror as Lord Morefield waved his daug
hter over and introduced the two women. Elizabeth curtseyed to the baroness. His
stomach dropped promptly when the Fury spoke to her for some time after which b
oth turned to stare at him. Whatever she revealed displeased his betrothed for E
lizabeths expression tensed and her smile became a stiff compression of lips.
Clun turned away.
Percy and Seelye were somewhere. He might as well wait among friends for all hel
l to break loose.

* * *

After Lord and Lady Denbeigh greeted Elizabeth and her father in the receiving l
ine, the earl excused himself. Elizabeth continued to the stairs leading down to
the ballroom. From that vantage point, she searched the crowd for Constance and
Lady Petra.
Instead, Elizabeth was treated to the sight of Clun moving along the edge of the
dainty, over-ornate ballroom like a fairy tale giant. His monochromatic evening
attire emphasized his height and breadth. Her pulse quickened at the sight of h
im.
Elizabeth, the earl spoke behind her, Id like you to meet Lady Clun. He presented an
icy-eyed older woman in a profusely plumed crepe turban. She schooled her featur
es and executed a curtsey to Cluns mother.
My son is very fortunate, the baroness said, her pale eyes making an unhurried sur
vey of Elizabeth from head to foot. She turned to the earl to add, Shes lovely, Mo
refield. And she has your stature.
Elizabeth did not enjoy the baroness cold scrutiny nor did she
ment which felt like a snub despite her neutral tone. Lady Clun
hand and clasped one of Elizabeths to bring her near enough to
the best of luck if you embark on this marriage, my dear, and I
houlder to cry on when the time comes.

appreciate her com

held out a cool
murmur, I wish you
offer a mothers s

Elizabeth straightened up to stare down at her and with a taut smile in place, s
he gritted out, I do not anticipate such a time, your ladyship.
Well, none of us do, but it comes as winter follows autumn. De Sayre men cannot h
elp wounding the tender hearted. Its simply their nature. Cold and distant, Im afr
aid. The baroness tone dripped caustic sympathy. Like father like son, as they say.
Elizabeth tried to hold her tongue. Then she looked into Lady Cluns frosty eyes.
Her hackles rose instinctively. I beg to differ. Lord Clun has not disappointed m
e, nor will he. Elizabeth slipped her hand from the others grip. He is admirable in
every regard.
The baroness shook her head slightly, compressed her downturned lips and sighed,
So nave. So quaintly nave.
Pray, do not matronize me, your ladyship, I know my mind and your son well enough
, Elizabeth replied and with false sweetness added, Although Im young, I am quite a
ble to judge anothers character.
The baroness narrowed her eyes and said nothing more, much to Elizabeths satisfac
tion. Next, Elizabeth scanned the ballroom and found Clun watching her from acro
ss the crowded room. She tried to smile at him but almost wept instead. To think
this woman was the only model Clun had for love. No wonder he anticipated the w
orst. It was the baroness not Clun who lacked a capacity to love.
Poor man, poor, dear man.

She pitied Clun almost a full minute until she noticed all the lingering glances
he received from the women he passed. She instantly detested each female moonin
g after him. She held the married women in greatest contempt as they admired his
person brazenly after he moved past them with polite bows of acknowledgement. T
heir bold stares lingered outrageously on his fine legs and buttocks. If only sh
e could, she would break the fan spokes of all the aged vixens who cooled themse
lves ostentatiously, grinning and whispering to one another with fans aflutter,
after he walked by.
Women afraid of him? Ha.
Although it wasnt his fault that he was exceedingly masculine, he neednt parade hi
mself in a leisurely circuit of the ballroom, giving every hussy present an oppo
rtunity to ogle him from head to toe. And ogle him they did! They eyeballed him
like street urchins watching a muffin man roll past with his cart piled high wit
h fresh baked goods. Until that moment, she thought to slaver described male misbe
havior exclusively, ha. Nor could he be oblivious to his effect on those lusty o
ld crones. Not with all that ridiculous fan flapping and cooing going on.
Gone was the wild-haired gentleman berserker shed met in Shropshire. His valet ha
d trimmed his black mane of hair to a becoming length just brushing his collar.
His evening clothes were impeccable. His linen cravat snowy white and beautifull
y tied, his waistcoat a cream embroidered silk that somehow deepened the midnigh
t blue of his dress coat with black velvet collar. The coats double breasted styl
e accentuated the width of his chest and the mass of his shoulders. His buff bre
eches advertised his strong thighs. Silk hose sheathed muscled calves. His feet
were properly shod in black leather slippers with discreet sterling buckles. Des
pite his outsized scale, or perhaps because of it, Lord Clun epitomized the well
-dressed, superbly athletic ideal of manhood.
Just as shed predicted, he was quite presentable with minor adjustments. She was
annoyed at him for having made the adjustments shed suggested and furious with he
rself for having suggested them in the first place.
Let that be a lesson.
Whilst she fended off his unpleasant mother, he had the temerity to give her a
ard look and stalk off in a sulk. On what account? There was no roomful of men
aking lubricious comments and cows eyes at her, for heavens sake. No one was
ting their clothes because she overheated their blood. No one stared openly at
er posterior with mouth curled in an eloquent smirk. Not a one.

h
m
adjus
h

He had to be lapping it up.

She turned her attention to the musicians as they prepared to play the evenings f
irst set. A few of her beaux came to entertain her and Elizabeth was only too ha
ppy to let them distract her. Her face revealed so much of her thoughts, she fea
red she would be indiscreet without uttering a word.

* * *

To Cluns great disgust, Elizabeth left the Furys side to stand where her pack of f
awning faradiddles could mob her more easily. He prowled the edges of the room a
nd eventually found his cavalry friends.
Now in a truly execrable mood, the baron had two options: he could stand around
getting roasted by those friends for his foul mood thus worsening it tenfold; or
he could wade through the crush toward his scowling fiance.
Clun excused himself and cut through the crowd to request a dance. Rather than i
nsult him by refusing, she agreed to give him his waltz. He knew she begrudged i
t, and he didnt care a jot or a spangle. His fiances popinjays and neer-do-wells sen
sed her displeasure and grumbled until he silenced them with a slow, heavy-lidde
d glance.
Before the waltz came a quadrille and a country set. The first she danced with W
ilder, daring Clun to take exception with a militant look. The second she danced
with Viscount Speare who had arrived with Mr. Traviston, Lady Petra and Miss Co
nstance Traviston. The young man had such happy manners it was hard to detest hi
m, but Clun made every effort so long as he danced with Elizabeth. When the musi
c ended, Speare and she rejoined Lady Petras party.
Clun went to claim his waltz and they stood together to await the music.
I have met your mother, Elizabeth finally said.
So I noticed and youre happy not to marry me for an additional reason, he replied.
Your mother doesnt signify, Clun, she said. Not in the least.
With those few words, his heart wafted heavenward, buoyed up by hope.
I am not marrying you, she continued, smacking her closed fan on his gloved wrist,
because of you.
The fans sharp crunching sound could have been the crashing of his heart on its d
oomed maiden ascension. So he retreated behind nonchalance.
Cant say Im surprised, came his retort. Clarify this for me, my lady. If you will not
marry me and you will not cry off, how will your despised betrothal to me ever
end?
I apologize. Have I delayed your acquisition of another heifer, Lord Clun?
Bess
Ah yes, our betrothal. Soon, Clun, soon. Now that our engagement is common knowle
dge, I am meeting more charming men than ever before, she laughed and snapped ope
n her fan to flirt. Extraordinary how attractive one becomes when pledged to anot
her and no longer available, silly men.
Clun failed to read between the lines of her brittle retort. He overlooked the s
hadows beneath her eyes. He was too angry about and jealous of the men stalking
her night after night.
Have a care, he growled, leaning closer as the musicians prepared to play. There ar
e men who hope to play spoiler.
His friend Seelye had pointed out wagers in the betting book at Whites that invol
ved several sets of initials stealing a march on a Lord C. with Lady E.D. Alread
y all manner of adventurers pursued her. That irritating earwig Wilder, for one.

Before their betrothal was widely known, those scoundrels sought to woo and win
her by fair means. The longer she dithered now, the greater the likelihood of s
erious mischief, just as the earl had foreseen
Until safely married, she was courting disaster, however, Clun would not lecture
Elizabeth or otherwise imply she was popular for purely mercenary reasons. Hed l
earned that lesson.
From now on, he planned to protect her from bounders with the sincere threat of
physical violence. At minimum, Elizabeths fianc had the right to call a man out fo
r attempting to sully her reputation. And illegal or not, he would. He was a dec
ent shot and deadly with sword, having developed the habit of killing whomever h
e unsheathed it for during the war. Clun doubted any man in the ton would risk h
is life by causing an actual scandal while she remained his betrothed.
When she ended it and threw off his protection, however, the likelihood of caddi
sh tactics quadrupled. Impoverished second and third sons of nobility werent part
icularly noble when it came to securing their comfort. So some scoundrel was bou
nd to try maneuvering her into a scandal that only a quick marriage could remedy
. He alarmed himself with this line of reasoning.
So Clun focused instead on dancing with the object of his anxiety, relieved to k
now she was safe in his arms for the time being.
They danced their customary waltz. It was not pleasant. He held her at the prope
r distance and stared over her head. She spoke of nothing consequential to his c
ravat. She did mention casually her plans to attend Covent Gardens Thursday opera
night that week. He scowled. She noted his scowl with a fleeting frown of her o
wn. When the music ended, he bowed, she curtseyed. He led her back to Lady Petra
and did what he ought about refreshments for the ladies before taking his leave
.
In frustration, Clun tried to drag his overlong hair away from his forehead and
came up short. And wavy. He forgot that hed had Fewings cut his hair off because
Elizabeth had once only once, mind you observed that he should. So he clawed ove
r his scalp and tugged at whatever he could grip between his fingers.
Rrrrgh!
For the balance of the night, Clun made an effort to be more sociable despite hi
s foul mood.
Lord Seelye helped in his own, ungentle way, telling Clun he was an imbecile to
lean against a wall glowering. Next, his lordship led the baron toward Lady Jane
Babcock and her circle of friends. The debutantes froze in place as Clun approa
ched. With starting eyes, they looked every bit like fawns in the forest hoping
to evade a dangerous predators notice. A few sidled away. Only one stood with her
back to the men as they approached. Lady Jane spoke to this friend from behind
her fan.
But Jane, Clun heard the oblivious girl whisper in a voice clear as a clanging bel
l, hes such a monstrous large man, Id be terrified to dance with him.
Clun chuckled. Lord Seelye cleared his throat and bowed to Lady Jane. Lady Iphig
enia Thornton finally turned around.
Oh dear! was all the mortified young woman could squeak out
to look up at Clun. After the introductions, Clun bowed over
d and asked for her next open dance. Her card was half empty,
voice, she gave him the next but looked to her friend to save

as she craned her neck

Lady Iphigenias han
so in a quavering
her. Instead, Lady

Jane commended her to Lord Cluns care so she and Seelye could snipe at each othe
r uninterrupted.
As the music began, poor Lady Iphigenias mortification struck her dumb. Clun soon
teased her into inconsequential conversation.
Lady Iphigenias natural tactlessness soon got the better of her and she exclaimed
, How fine a dancer you are, my lord. So nimble for a man your size. A moment too
late, she recalled her earlier gaffe and colored to the shade of a persimmon.
I am rather sprightly for a monstrous large man, arent I? Clun asked and smiled at
her conspiratorially. But I must swear you to secrecy or I will wear my legs to n
ubbins dancing with all the young ladies.
Im sorry for my earlier, intemperate language, my lord. Lady Iphigenia said meekly.
Im not! Youre an Original, my lady. And I am happy to be among the many who seek a
place on your dance card.
Now youre bamming me, she reproached the baron.
On my honor, I am honored, my lady, he teased before the two dancers separated. Wh
en they returned, he added, and Ill challenge anyone who dares contradict me to a
duel even you. They separated to circle others, and at the return, he leaned near
to say, Goose feathers at dawn. Rejoining her, he concluded solemnly, Hampstead He
ath. Physician on hand. Seconds to examine the gander, all of it.
She laughed at his whimsy and said, Isnt it customary for the challenged to have c
hoice of weapon?
I stand corrected. He smiled down at her, pleased to have put an awkward girl at e
ase.
Though she was too young, too timid and too little like Elizabeth to suit him, C
lun imagined for a moment marriage to Lady Iphigenia. Nothing much came of it. T
he life he supposed lacked sparkle. Still, he hadnt succeeded with Elizabeth so h
e would have to contemplate an alternative. The notion sank to the pit of his st
omach.
Tell me, my lady, do any of your suitors suit? He inquired. She blushed and missed
a step. He caught her up easily and set her to rights, with no one the wiser.
I have an understanding with Lord Charles Holmsbury, my lord.
That explains your lovely smile, Clun replied, not at all disappointed by her disc
losure.
The dancers enjoyed the rest of their dance in warm camaraderie.
I dont know why everyones terrified of you, Lady Iphigenia vouchsafed.
Am I not an ogre?
Not as much as Id supposed, she replied and gasped, Oh bother! Beg pardon, my lord.
Clun laughed, which flustered her until he added, No need to apologize. Ive cultiv
ated my fearsome reputation for years. Id be disappointed if my efforts had borne
no fruit.
She smiled up at him and said, I think I like you, Lord Clun.

You flatter me, but if you tell anyone Im tolerable, I will never forgive you.
I shall do my best, though I wont remain silent if youre maligned.
Thank you. No doubt, you are a fierce champion of your friends.
I am, she replied, her face aglow. And we are friends.
Im flattered.
The music ended and Clun bowed over Lady Iphigenias hand and grinned at her. She
smiled radiantly back at him. When he escorted her back to her friends and their
chaperones, all stood goggle-eyed until he turned away. Then, he heard gasps an
d whispers.
It was a pleasant interlude but it was past time to find his Delilah and make he
r dance with him again. He searched the ballroom. Shed left already for another j
ollification.
That left Clun no alternative but, he shuddered, the opera.
The Duke of Ainsworth had invited him to attend a performance of Mozarts Cos Fan T
utte. (Cos fan tutte le belle meant Thus, all women do, Clun snorted. How true.) Po
or Ainsworths enceinte duchess had developed a peculiar taste for intolerable scr
eeching set to tolerable music. Clun had declined the invitation out of hand and
mocked His Grace up and down for suffering through an aural assault of that mag
nitude for the love of a woman.
Ah, well.
Clun would send word in the morning that hed changed his mind and would like to j
oin them if he was still welcome. Doubtless, the duke would be grateful, misery
loving company as it does. His Grace would also enjoy serving Clun a generous po
rtion of crow.

* * *

Despite the earls dire prognostics, Elizabeth knew how to handle ton rascals. Onl
y one man tempted her to behave inappropriately and he kept his distance. In fac
t, the man she loved would not look her in the eye. So far, at various routs and
balls, hed been content with one dance as often as hed demanded a second.
That very evening, Elizabeth was forced to endure the spectacle of her affianced
exercising his considerable masculine charm on another friend of Lady Jane Babc
ock. At first, Elizabeth had hoped, perhaps cruelly, that Lady Iphigenia would n
ot only blanch at the prospect of dancing with her baron but faint away in a hea
p. Instead, all those assembled witnessed a miracle in which Clun coaxed the chi
t out of awkward shyness and into radiant vivacity. Lady Iphigenia blushed and l
aughed for as long as the two danced.
Though anyone with sense could see how sadly mismatched they were, others said t

hey made a charming picture. Clun certainly captivated the girl. He smiled at he
r, leaned close and teased her till she was beaming. Elizabeth knew that feeling
well, for she herself had smiled as rapturously into those dark, dancing eyes.
Rather than stay for more, she allowed the Travistons to herd her to the evenings
next event.
In the Traviston carriage, Mr. Traviston stared out the coach window while Const
ance and Lady Petra marveled at The Scene of Wonder, that being a charming Lord
Clun and a shy young lady being charmed by him. Lady Petra declared he had opene
d more eyes among the ton than just her own and that regardless of their betroth
al, Cluns eligibility was now a matter of general discussion. Such talk irritated
Elizabeth no end.
Quite a handsome man. Perhaps intimidating physically, though hardly the beast I
was led to believe, Lady Petra said. Had you wanted him, Elizabeth, Id have told yo
u he was a fine choice.
Yes, Elizabeth said tightly.
It would be best to release him soon, dear. Just not too soon. Ending it with so
many of the ton in Town for Christmas would court disaster of another sort. Stil
l, he mustnt be kept waiting long. Its only fair to let the man pursue a courtship
with the prospect of a satisfactory outcome, dont you think? Lady Petra asked gen
tly.
To this subtle reproach, Elizabeth bowed her head and nodded.
Lizzy, if you still want to marry him, its not hopeless, Constance reassured her. Is
it, Mama?
Lady Petra said nothing.
He cannot love me, Elizabeth said in resignation. He told me so point blank.
Cannot or will not? Her friend asked.
Does it matter?
Clun has not had a happy example to follow, my dear. Perhaps his reticence is und
erstandable, Lady Petra mused.
I met Lady Clun tonight, Elizabeth said. What did she mean by like father, like son?
Lady Petra reviewed some of the ton gossip while the carriage rumbled over the c
obblestone streets of Mayfair to Cavendish Square and another ball.
Oh my! was all that Elizabeth could manage after Lady Petra concluded the infamous
tale of the baron, the alienated baroness and his social ostracism. It explaine
d the baroness pronouncements about de Sayre men.
Elizabeth, you are nothing like Lady Clun. Not in any attribute or inclination. Y
oure her opposite for you are determined to be happy, said Mr. Traviston out of th
e blue.
Quite right, my dear, Lady Petra said to her husband, who smiled and turned back t
o the window.. To Elizabeth she added, I believe you could be the making of the m
an as a husband and a father. That is, if you wish to be.
Hes too determined to have his way, Lady Petra, Elizabeth replied.

He is afraid. He cannot relish that, Lady Petra observed. You need only decide if y
ou want him. Think on it.
Yes, maam, Elizabeth said, unusually docile.
Give it careful consideration, child, Lady Petra urged, Lord Clun has made an impre
ssion tonight and there will be any number of caps set at him if you cry off. she
patted Elizabeths clenched hands. But take heart. His inclination is obvious, tho
ugh he would rather you not see it.
Inclination? Toward whom?
You, child. Only you.

* * *

Clun ended the night with Seelye and Percy in Grosvenor Square over tea and bran
dy with the Duke and Duchess of Ainsworth. Since the men respected Prudence a gr
eat deal, they paid her their highest compliment and included her as one of thei
r own in conversation. This also meant mild profanities peppered their candid ta
lk. The duke was the worst offender. He blasphemed on a regular basis, and Prude
nce didnt blink or scold, which endeared her to all. (Ainsworth maintained that s
he could, if called upon, swear as fluently as the sailors she once treated at h
er apothecary shop in Bath.)
The baron listened as topics came and went, trying to keep a cork in his bottled
up frustration. Finally, he leapt into a lull in the conversation to say, Friend
s, I would ask you a question.
All eyes turned to him, teacups and brandies poised in mid-air.
My betrothal has hit a snag as you know, Clun began. She accuses me of being pessim
istic about marriage, love, happiness, what have you. He waited for vociferous de
nials from his friends. He heard silence and a small cough when the duchess clea
red her throat.
Well, the duke said slowly, you do tend to look on the dark side, Clun.
Look? Rather he lives on the dark side, in Dark Streets deepest, unlit recess, Seel
ye clarified.
Clun was less than pleased.
Its merely a tendency, Clun, reassured Percy. Not a fatal flaw.
You must admit, you can be bloody gloomy, Ainsworth said and added reflexively, Beg
pardon, love.
Prudence nodded, poured more tea for Percy and handed it to him.
How many times did you search a battlefield for one or all of us, assuming wed bee

n flayed, or shot, or lanced, Seelye asked, only to find us back at the tents havi
ng a shave?
Not after Waterloo, Clun stated.
Heard you combed the fields for a week, Ainsworth said quietly. Ill never forget tha
t, Clun.
We three of us did, Jem, Clun said. For all the good it did.
What about earlier battles, Seelye said, returning to the point.
Salamanca, Percy offered and sipped his tea.
Oh Lord, yes! Seelye crowed. Remember Salamanca?
I found Percys bloody helmet and his clothes drenched in blood by the river, Clun s
aid peevishly. What was I supposed to think?
That he was washing off, you mope, Seelye cried.
Had you found my severed head in the helmet, you mightve worried. I had a devil of
a time getting you to put me down, Percy chuckled.
You were bleeding, damn it, Clun snarled and added, pardon me, Your Grace.
Prudence shrugged and sipped her tea as she listened with amusement to the men.
A messy flesh wound, nothing more. Hence my dip in the stream, Percy answered.
You were floating lifeless, Clun argued.
Face up, Clun, I was relaxing. That is, until you howled like a banshee and charg
ed in after me. You mightve drowned me for all your flailing and splashing.
Prudence interjected, I think your Elizabeth is quite perceptive.
The duke raised a brow, You hardly know her, Pru.
But I, too, am perceptive. Its one of many abilities intelligent women possess.
Clun opened his mouth to argue with Her Grace.
Steady on, Clun, Ainsworth said. Women are an infernal nuisance, being right so oft
en about such things. Take it like a man.
She expects me to change, Clun growled and silenced the other men for a moment.
Oh. Thats not reasonable. Not likely, anyway. You are who you are, warts and all, c
ame the mutters of male outrage from Percy and Seelye.
Ainsworth sat, silent.
Well, Jem, what have you to say to that? Clun challenged.
The duke smiled at his wife. Perhaps you would be happier if you allowed for some
optimism, Clun. Change can be for the better. And frankly, it happens like it o
r not when youve met your match.
The unmarried men stared at the most implacable Horseman of the Apocalypse with

jaws hanging on broken hinges. Prudence, Duchess of Ainsworth, blushed as she fu

ssed with the teapot.
God save me from the uxorious, Clun grumbled.

Chapter 23
In which the Fury disapproves of our heroine, giving our hero at least that sati
sfaction.

I fear your intended is barmy, began Lady Clun a few days later when Clun could no
t avoid breakfasting at her usual hour.
How so?
When I thought to offer her a bit of motherly advice, she said, making his skin cr
awl, she told me not to matronize her. Matronize, Clun, is not a word.
He gave a snort of laughter. It ought to be. Then men can patronize and women can
matronize. Makes perfect sense.
Dont be ridiculous. One does not go around fabricating language in polite circles.
One must when an excellent notion lacks a satisfactory term. Oh, and Mother, he lo
wered his voice to command, dont matronize my betrothed again, if you please.
Trust you to be perverse, she huffed. But then, youve always made decisions out of c
ontrariness. You ran off to war and risked more than just your life on the battl
efields. You gambled with the title, a proud and ancient lineage and my future a
s well as your own. Why? Out of spite for me or your father, I could never deter
mine which. Or perhaps it was both. Even now, if you die without issue, I shall
find myself beggared.
Hardly. Should I succumb at a time inconvenient to you, youll have the dower house
in Ludlow and a townhouse in London for life as well as a jointure for your sup
port, Clun pointed out.
Pft! She flicked her hand in dismissal. What sort of life would that be? Ludlow? Ru
ssell Square? Whilst some distant cousin inherits the barony and tosses me out o
f my castle.
Then one must hope I dont take chill, Clun concluded, as he scanned the Morning Pos
t.
And now this Damogan chit! Her ladyship continued, giving full voice to her anxiou
s years of uncertainty, By all means stop wasting precious time. If you dont care
whom you marry, at least choose someone who will marry you and go about providin
g an heir in a businesslike fashion. Think of the barony and the future. Think o
f me.
Lady Elizabeth will do, Mother, Clun stated. Better than do.

An unwelcome thought distracted the baron. The Fury was perfectly right. Before
Elizabeth, he hadnt given a hang whom he married. Itd been a duty to fulfill, noth
ing more. Now, he cared. In fact, it mattered a great deal more than it ought, g
iven his lifelong beliefs.
Hed always taken such pride in his dispassionate good sense. Well, pride goeth be
fore the fall. There was no denying it, he had tripped and somehow fallen. As he
ruminated, he missed the rest of his mothers screed until she brought her fork d
own hard on her china plate.
I strongly suggest you reconsider this whimsical chit before its too late.
Too damned late for that.
Hed already considered and reconsidered Lady Elizabeth Damogan in uncomfortably e
xplicit detail. He also possessed the dark blue bollocks to show for his careful
consideration. Beyond lustful fantasies, he also considered how passionately sh
e expressed herself, how fearlessly she felt things and how loyal she was to tho
se she loved, even when it caused her pain. He didnt simply lust for her, he admi
red her and God knows what else.
His mind turned to more pleasant thoughts: how his condescending mother had matr
onized his spitfire of a fiance and how Elizabeth had pick-axed her presumption w
ith a delectable new word. He chuckled to himself, which rankled the Fury and ad
ded to his pleasure at the breakfast table. That is, until he recalled Elizabeth
wouldnt be betrothed to him much longer.
After she cried off, oh, how the Fury would matronize him! Shed exult in it and r
epeat the excuse given, for his mother would winkle the whole from the earl. Wor
se, shed coo with delight while comforting him that he was lucky to be rid of her
.
If only Elizabeth were in truth barmy enough to marry him. He gave it no more th
an a moments consideration, this deeply disturbing notion.
Like a splash of cold water, his mother said, When you come to your senses, Clun,
I have a more suitable match in mind for you.

Chapter 24
In which our hero and heroine have quite a night at the opera.

On the evening of the opera performance, Cluns neurasthenic valet Fewings dressed
him with special care. He trimmed the barons hair again and saw his nails were p
roperly buffed because he took rightful pride in the elegance of Lord Cluns turno
ut.
The points of his lordships shirt collar were becoming without excess, simply wha
t looked neat nothing higher, pointier or more dandified. His dark green cutaway
coat and buff breeches fit him to a fare-thee-well. The baron wore an ivory sat
in striped silk and wool waistcoat with buttons covered in the same fabric and a
snowy linen cravat tied in a ridiculously exact series of subtle folds and crea

ses that fluffed as a slight, white extrusion at his throat. Fewings proudly nam
ed his invention the Geometrical, though Clun suggested he call it Mail Coach in
a Ditch.
The earnest valet bore his lordships witticisms with a martyrs fortitude, but begg
ed him not to fuss with the neckcloth. He also insisted on referring solemnly to
the plain white color of the barons stocks as blanc dinnocence virginale. His mans
man was less than two years in his position and from Shropshire, for Gods sake,
so it mystified Clun where hed picked up this nonsense. Indeed, it so amused Clun
to hear Fewings say the phrase, he found every excuse to bring it up.
Perhaps once his valet settled in, hed realize solemnity would not quell the baro
ns puckish sense of humor, only exacerbate it. Till then, Clun couldnt resist tryi
ng to lighten his valets over-serious perspective on the subject of cravats.
What do you call this color, Fewings? Clun asked, dipping his chin into it to give
it a look (thus inspiring his valets little gasp of horror).
It is blanc dinnocence virginale, my lord, Fewings replied still ruffled.
Looks more like neige blanc la vestale to me, Clun replied, waiting for his mans re
action.
Fewings did not disappoint.
Respectfully, I must beg leave to disagree, my lord, this is blanc dinnocence virg
inale. Im not familiar with neige blanc la vestale.
No? Perhaps Im thinking of the color of Lord Seelyes exquisite stocks. Pity, its a h
andsome shade. Possibly my favorite.
He let poor Fewings digest this for a moment before giving up the jest and reass
uring him gently, Fewings, Ive been a soldier for years, I wouldnt know vestale fro
m virginale. White is white to me. You mustnt let my jokeative nature distract yo
u.
No, my lord, Fewings said gravely, I do try not to.
I know you do and thus I redouble my efforts. Tonight, as a change, I will restra
in myself so you may do your good work and I may look civilized.
He smiled down at his valet. Fewings would not meet his eyes. Poor man took ever
ything much too seriously, but this evening was not the time to tease him out of
it. Clun wanted to look his best.

Arriving at the Theatre Royal, Clun sent his carriage back to North Audley Stree
t. After the performance, Ainsworth would insist they end the evening at Grosven
or Square to recuperate from the caterwaul. The two men would play billiards, sm
oke cheroots, drink brandy and say nothing much about anything as compensation f
or what theyd suffered in the previous hours.
His lordship found the dukes box and was shown inside. He bowed over the duchess h
and. He and Ainsworth exchanged wry looks as Prudence tried to drum up some enth
usiasm for the upcoming performance.
Clun scanned the hall. It took no time to find her. Elizabeth sat resplendent in

a shimmering, pale blush silk gown almost directly opposite them in the Morefie
ld box also on the third tier balcony beside the stage. With her sat Mr. Travist
on, Viscount Speare and two exquisite blondes, the older beauty was Travistons wi
fe, Lady Petra, the other, their daughter Constance. He looked daggers at Speare
until satisfied that the viscount devoted most of his attention to the younger
blonde at his side. Elizabeth sat upright staring directly at him across the hal
l.
He squinted to try to make out her expression.
Looking around, he spied the duchess lorgnette, a feminine contrivance decorated
in lustrous mother of pearl and festooned with an opulent spray of ostrich plume
s dyed to match her gown.
May I, Your Grace? He asked and pointed to the dainty thing in her hands.
She held it out to him and said, I had not thought you a Mozart aficionado.
He grimaced. Without a word, he swung the frilly glasses open on their thin hand
le and peered through them. He ignored both the low snorting of His Grace and He
r Graces gurgles as he stared across the way to watch Elizabeth, who at that mome
nt was laughing till she choked behind her fan.
Rrrrgh.
Stagehands lit the footlights to signal the start of the performance; others rus
hed to draw away the heavy curtains. From his vantage point, Clun saw the chaos
of activity in the left wing. Two burly men dunked armloads of blankets into a t
ub of water. By law, theaters had to have at least eight wet blankets on hand in
case draperies or scrims caught fire during a performance.
Throughout the hall, pages used long-handled snuffers to put out the candles in
the many chandeliers dangling from the balconies. When the hall was dark, the or
chestra struck up the overture. Singers began wailing and squawking soon after.
Still he stared.
Elizabeth turned toward the stage and only occasionally glanced sideways at him.
He, on the other hand, watched her through the feminine frills of his purloined
lorgnette till the interval.
Clun noticed the box across the way filled quickly with visitors, Wilder among t
hem. The oleaginous grub bent low over Elizabeths hand and she smiled up at him.
In a blink, he flicked apart his coattails and seated himself in a vacant chair
beside her. That cocklebrain somehow made her smile.
Rrrrrrrgghhh.
His anger was reaching the point of combustion.
Enough, Clun! My wife would like to see the second half, if you please. The duke l
eaned over to tweak the lorgnette out of Cluns hand. Its plumes were sadly crushe
d in his fist.
My apologies, Duchess, Clun grumbled. Forgot myself.
Perhaps you should stretch your legs, she said and patted his arm. The performance
is making you tense. Though I assure you it ends happily.
I am never tense, he replied.

Of course not, the duchess said in an unmistakably matronizing tone.

His lordship sank low in his seat and glowered directly across the way until the
interval ended. Wilder lingered. Only when the performance resumed did Clun exc
use himself to stalk 180 degrees around the curving hallway to the Morefield box
and tap on the door. He almost regretted being the ninth wet blanket. A page op
ened it, and his lordship told the young man to convey his compliments to Lady E
lizabeth and to request a moment with her.
From the doorway, Clun overheard the page whisper his message, and her reply, A w
ord with me? Who?
He wouldnt say, the page answered, and I dared not insist, my lady.
Make the gentleman come in, Lady Elizabeth, Wilder teased. Lets have a look at him.
That wouldnt be wise, Mr. Wilder.
Clun waited impatiently until Elizabeth opened the box door and slipped into the
hall.
I saw you staring at me through those ludicrous glasses, Clun. Everyone did, she w
hispered.
What of it? Im short-sighted, he hissed back. He reached behind her to close the do
or.
Well, she replied, do you disapprove of something?
No. Yes. Why must you let that empty rattle Wilder hang all over you that way?
You couldve taken advantage of the interval to kick up a fuss. What took you so lo
ng?
For a time, common sense prevailed then principle overcame it, he grumbled, lookin
g her up and down.
Her pale skin flushed wherever his glance rested. This pleased him. So did the l
ow-cut gown she wore upon closer inspection. The color, though pale, made her sk
in luminous in the half-light. And there was so much creamy, mounded amounts of
her bared beneath his nose, it made his mind skitter from one inappropriate thou
ght to the next.
How was a man supposed to concentrate when so much had so little restraining it
into order?
Well? She recalled him to the moment, Have your say, Im missing the performance.
He drew her away from the door to the other side of the hallway. Gruffer than us
ual, he said, Wilder will disappoint you, Bess.
When did my disappointment become your concern, Lord Clun?
It has always been, he said and looked away, and so long as were betrothed it will r
emain my concern, right or wrong. You deserve better than Wilder.
I do?
Much better. Clun took her upper arms in a firm grip and repeated, Much.

She studied his face in silence and he felt his throat ripple with each hard swa
llow.
I appreciate your concern, my lord, and I will take it into consideration. She con
tinued to stare, but he couldnt bring himself to let her go. She glowed as if moo
nlit, which of course was impossible.
Clun, you are staring at my bosom. Her tone was calm and steely.
His eyes snapped up to meet hers. Not at all, Elizabeth. I was merely lost in tho
ught. As he spoke, his gaze drifted down again to her celestial orbs as if pulled
by the natural laws of gravity.
Clun! She stamped her foot, which made them jiggle hypnotically. A gentleman does n
ot stare fixedly at a ladys bosom.
And a lady doesnt mention her body parts to a man, he retorted. It only draws his at
tention to them.
You were staring at them long before I mentioned them.
However right she was, he was loath to admit it.
Im fairly certain I wasnt, he snapped. His eyes had already fallen once again to del
ve into her dcolletage. I hadnt noticed itthemNot really, not until you stamped about
and set them in motion.
Stop it! she hissed with another emphatic stamp of her foot. There was a voluptuou
s bounce where he mustnt stare but he could not help himself.
He clapped a hand over his eyes and muttered, Have you never heard of a fichu, wo
man?
With an evening dress? Dont be silly.
Peeking through his fingers, he watched her smooth the long, evening glove above
her elbow. Crossing her arm over her chest in that way only served to plump the
contents of her bodice as she worked the glove higher. She had no idea how glor
ious a sight she was.
This is hardly as daring as some youll see here tonight, she said and started adjus
ting the other glove.
I hadnt noticed, he said. It was the Gods honest truth. He had not noticed any other
females frock, no matter how plunging. Hed only noticed hers. And it riveted his
attention. I shall endeavor not to look at you, he bit out, if you would be so kind
as to stop that.
Stop what, Clun? She asked him softly. She looked genuinely puzzled. If I make you
so uncomfortable, Ill go back.
Not uncomfortable. He let his hand drop to his side to watch her leave and she tur
ned back to dip into a low curtsey. She paused. He knew his mouth hung open in s
lack-jawed appreciation because her grin grew into a wide smile.
Good evening, my lord, she said.
Helplessly, he took in the heaps of soft, silken flesh and growled, You torture m
e, Bess.

Dont be a gudgeon. Im just taking proper leave. She straightened up to her full heig
ht. Its your turn to bow, Clun.
God help me, he groaned audibly and bowed, You are a minx and I am an idiot.
Where, oh where, was an icy Shropshire stream when one needed it?
Clun turned on his heel and marched a few steps away trying to ignore her gravit
ational pull.
Damned provocative gown.
He was tempted to look just once over his shoulder and assure himself that she h
ad re-entered her fathers box. He cast a glance behind. She stood watching him an
d her bosom rose with each inhale.
How could she expect any mortal man to walk away?
Before he could think another thought, he strode back and pulled her into an unl
it alcove opposite the box. He yanked the curtains closed and framed her face wi
th his hands.
Say no, push me away, he prayed. He felt her still. Hesitating for a heartbeat, he
brushed her lips softly with his own, once, twice, thrice, with no more pressur
e than the brush of eyelashes.
Her arms stole about him and held him close. Before he kissed her in earnest, he
cracked his eyes to steal a look at her and, to his dismay, found her looking b
ack at him. With a grunt, he pulled away. There was no mistaking it. She was wat
ching him.
Its customary to close ones eyes, Bess, he told her.
Must I? She licked her lips as if to savor his slight kisses.
Why wouldnt you? Makes a man dashed uncomfortable, staring that way.
Are you so shy?
Apparently.
But I want to remember this kiss forever, she sighed.
I will do what I can to make the sensations memorable.
But
Shh, if I fail the first time, Ill repeat myself until the impressions indelible.
And if you succeed, what then? Who am I to marry if not you? Mr. Wilder perhaps?
No.
He is amusing.
No.
And dances well.

A dancing clown is not husband material, Bess. Even I would be better for you tha
n that verminous fribble.
She smiled up at him and said, If you say so, and pulled him tighter.
He cradled her head in his hands and tipped her face up to his. Ever so slowly,
he descended to bring their mouths into perfect alignment. She went nearly cross
-eyed as he closed the distance slowly. He stopped just above her lips, looked h
er in the eye and waited.
Oh! Forgive me, I forgot. She squeezed her eyes closed and they chuckled together.
Her warm, sweet breath huffed lightly against his face.
Its just a kiss, he whispered over her mouth.
No, Clun, its our first kiss, she corrected, keeping her eyes tightly closed.
He brushed his lips slowly, softly, across hers, and tasted her with the tip of
his tongue. He brushed a firmer kiss on her smile.
Her sigh undid him. And with that, he crushed her to him and took her mouth pass
ionately. His heart raced as she kissed him back, taking her own pleasure with a
n answering passion. The relief he felt frightened him. Terrified him, actually.
He kissed her again and again, delving deeper with each. She seemed to melt in
his arms. Blood surged from his head and chest to his lower belly. He kissed her
longer, pressing much too close, devouring the sweet taste of her soft lips, su
cking her lower lip delicately between his own. His hand stole over her breast b
ound within her stays. A little gasp escaped her when he stroked a finger along
the edge of her bodice across her bare skin. He dipped into her dcolletage and fe
lt her tremble. Finally, he relented so they could take a few panting breaths.
Oh, Clun. Youre right, she sighed with her head tilted back. That was unforgettable.
The box door opened and the sounds of warbled screeches flooded into the quiet h
allway. He peeked between the curtains and watched Wilder skulk away.
Youve been gone too long, Bess. Time to return.
Must I?
Yes, you must, he said and wished he could answer differently. He peeked again bet
ween the curtains. When the hall cleared, Clun led her to the door of her fathers
box and bowed over her hand. She looked flushed and distracted, but somewhat sh
ort of scandalously abused. He pressed one last, warm kiss to the bare skin at t
he nape of her neck.
Im sorry, he said, now ashamed of his shocking lapse in conduct. That was a mistake.
I shouldnt have done that.
No, she said sadly. If you say so, I suppose not.
He couldnt read her expression and she said nothing more before slipping into the
box.
He walked briskly in the hallway for ten minutes to force blood back to his othe
r extremities before returning to the Ainsworth box. Once inside, he bowed to th
e bemused duchess and seated himself without a word.
Without waiting for him to ask, Prudence offered him her lorgnette and this advi
ce: I take it you had words with her just now. You mustnt discompose her so.

She looks discomposed, does she? He whispered back. It was a relief to know he was
nt the only one knocked top over tail by their first kiss.
The duchess regarded him and patted his arm, Be gentle with her, my lord. You Hor
semen have no idea how overwhelming you can be when courting.
I am not courting Lady Elizabeth. We are betrothed.
Nor did the duke court me. It was more in the nature of a full, frontal assault.
I wish youd understand such tactics overset the most sensible among my gender. Yo
ud do well to moderate your pursuit.
Yes, Your Grace, Clun replied, knowing Ainsworth would flay him alive if he argued
with her in her delicate condition.
Would you like to know what youve missed, Clun? The duchess asked.
No, Your Grace. Ainsworth may tell me later, Clun leaned forward to eye the duke a
nd muttered, if he wishes to torture me. The men grimaced at each other and slumpe
d lower in their seats till the last notes of the finale faded.

Chapter 25
In which a terror becomes all the rage.

Re-evaluation of Cluns off-putting demeanor occurred almost overnight. His welcom

e a somewhat smothering embrace to the tons bosom came hard on the heels of this
revision of opinion. Ton mamas endorsed this re-evaluation enthusiastically beca
use Lord Cluns ancient lineage, estates and annual income were enough to make hau
ghty matrons and parvenus salivate alike.
For his part, the baron became a reluctant social fixture at the festivities Adv
ent ushered in and Twelfth Night would conclude mercifully after New Year. His p
rimary object was to keep Elizabeth safe from rakes, fortune hunters and scoundr
els. And to claim his waltzes at each opportunity.
To his utter amazement, he found his halfhearted efforts reassured the previousl
y timid misses populating Societys seasonal celebrations. News of his betrothal a
nd Lady Iphigenias endorsement whetted other young ladies curiosity. It was herd m
entality at work. Because one in their cohort considered Clun eligible enough to
wed, and another insisted he was a charming dance partner, the rest questioned
their first, terrified impression and took a closer look. Now, none of them suff
ered fainting spells or claimed extreme fatigue when he approached to request a
dance. The vast majority hung on his lips and giggled appreciatively at his ever
y muttering. Even when he glowered or grew irascible, they smiled, knowing it wa
s merely a gruff faade. Beneath it, beat the heart of a sweet, grumpy man in need
of feminine indulgence.
Almost nothing about his social rehabilitation annoyed the baron as much as seve
nteen- and eighteen-year-old females matronizing him one after another about his
silly, cranky freaks. Though sorely tried, he kept his irritation in check. They

meant well, he reminded himself, and he must simply bear up and take it like a m
an. On those occasions when he could no longer stand it, he kept his snarling to
a mild-tempered minimum. They were not the reason he so often found himself in
a foul mood.
At social functions now, he partnered any number of willing young ladies and fou
nd it generally tolerable. Dancing with his little friend Lady Iphigenia was eve
n pleasant. Elizabeth, however, stayed away. Or rather, she remained the glowing
sun amidst the planetary orbiting of her coxcombs, varmints and pestilential to
ad-eaters.
Rather than vie with lesser men for her attention, Clun kept his distance.
Kissing her at the opera had been a grave, tactical error. Even at the time, he
knew he shouldnt have done it, not simply for her sake, but for his own. Now, he
understood why. For try as he might, he couldnt put kissing her out of mind. Eliz
abeth gave every indication she had forgotten all about it, her protestations in
the alcove notwithstanding. She looked perfectly satisfied with her servile cla
que. Every so often, he caught her eye across the room. Her expression looked a
touch grim, or was that merely wishful thinking?
Clun was not the only one to notice coolness between the betrothed couple. Rumor
s of their alienation soon circulated. Speculating about impediments to their ma
rriage became a popular pastime among gossips and ambitious mamas with hopes of
their own. Whites wager book listed ever more entries betting for and against the
nuptials of Lord C. and Lady E. ever taking place.
Lord Seelye told Clun hed put money on the betrothal coming to fruition out of lo
yalty and an earnest desire to win a few quid.
Mustnt bet, Seelye, Clun advised. Shes bound to cry off. Youll lose your shirt. That i
s, if you still have one to wager.
I have faith in you, Clun. Always have had, because I am a born optimist.
And thus a fool. Its hopeless. Stating this as fact made it painfully real for Clun
, as he stood with his friend in the card room at the Coulthard party.
Such a gloomy creature, Seelye drawled. How futile can it be? She herself revealed
your engagement.
Its hopeless because the outcome depends on a female with a whim of steel, Seelye.
She requires a romantic idiot of a man and I am not that idiot, I assure you, n
or can I ever be.
If shed wanted to cry off, wouldnt she have done so without making the arrangement
public?
Oh no, not Elizabeth. She enjoys greater popularity now that shes unavailable. The
res not a blessed thing I can do about it. The more he said, the more unhappy Clun
made himself.
His friend stared at him for an uncomfortably long time without saying a word. F
inally, Seelye broke his silence, Time for me to fetch my gun.
What?
When we were in Bath, I distinctly recall your instructing me to shoot you and pu
t you out of your misery if you and I quote here ever took such a pratfall.21 If
Im not much mistaken, youve fallen, my friend, and youre miserable.

Clun scowled at him as Seelye pat-pat-patted him on the back as a childs nurse mi
ght.
Its time, Clun. I do so hate to see you suffer.
Clun shrugged off his friends condescending pats. Go to the devil, Seelye.
No doubt I shall but as a feckless bachelor, Clun, mark my words.
Though the baron looked daggers at his friend, he could not shut the man up. On
and on Seelye chirped about Clun being in love with Lady Elizabeth. Had he been
wrong, his taunts would have rankled his lordship far less.

* * *

In Londons fashionable shopping districts, frost decorated windows and light snow
flurries danced in the air. Bright, gas-lit shop windows illuminated crowds of
smiling, laughing passers by. Everyone, it seemed, was caught up in the seasons e
xcitement. Yet despite the atmospherics before Christmas, there was no hiding th
e impasse between Lord C. and Lady E.
On Stir-Up Sunday the week before Advent,22 the Damogan cook prepared the Christ
mas plum pudding as usual. There were no arrangements for a more elaborate celeb
ration, such as a wedding breakfast.
Advent ushered in the customary Christmas decorations at both noble houses, noth
ing more. Holly and laurel branches decked the halls of No. 1 Damogan Square, wi
th the windows, the staircases and fireplaces properly festooned. At the barons r
esidence, Lady Clun saw wreaths and greenery hung inside and out and planned a t
raditional country Christmas Eve frumenty supper for twenty prior to attending par
ties that evening.
After the Waits,23 itinerate musicians treated revelers returning home late from
parties to quiet, lilting lullabies that carried in the still night air. Till d
awn, the parish constable chanted verses softly on his rounds, as he rang the ho
urs with his bell. In other words, two weeks before Christmas, the air was fille
d with joyous sounds day and night except in Damogan Square and North Audley Str
eet. This only underscored the conspicuous silence regarding Lord Clun and Lady
Elizabeth Damogans nuptials.
Mystified servants at both establishments admitted that no holiday wedding prepa
rations were afoot; no viands were ordered to feed an onslaught of guests, wellwishers and visitors; and the printers had no wedding breakfast invitations to e
ngrave. There was nothing underway except the usual doings.
Society noted and dissected this inactivity and the deafening silence accompanyi
ng it and many concluded that the de Sayre-Damogan betrothal was in a ticklish s
tate of limbo. No one quite knew what to make of this, which naturally engendere
d more fevered speculation.
Lady Clun gleefully gave more impetus to gossip by wanly attempting to quash the

tattle. All will be well, I am sure. Or so I pray. But then, the young have thei
r own odd ways of doing things and not doing things, she said to anyone who expre
ssed curiosity. Nothing is ever certain anymore, is it? Especially if one cherish
es loftier ambitions. As intended, her unsubtle innuendos had their effect.
At home, the baroness reported the cruel rumors she instigated to Clun over brea
kfast whenever possible.
How very uncomfortable for you, she said as if to sympathize with him over his unf
ortunate choice of wife. No one speaks of anything else. Word is, the girl refuse
s to marry you hoping to do better for herself and wont release you in the meanti
me. Hard to comprehend how you earned her enmity without even marrying her. Fort
unately, the problem is remedied easily enough. I shall speak to the earl myself
. Such a bookish man may not appreciate the seriousness of the situation. By tar
rying, his daughter insults you and risks being labeled a jilt. Neither the earl
nor I could want this sad state of affairs to reflect badly upon our families.
You will do and say nothing to anyone, Mother. Is that clear? Clun kept his voice
quiet, knowing the menace in his words sounded louder at low volume.
For the first time ever, Cluns tone quelled her retort. The baroness watched him
closely. She was nothing if not adaptable and so she assumed a conciliatory tone
. Surely, you dont wish to remain a laughingstock.
I will say this only once more. Do nothing. Say nothing. Defy me and you will not
enjoy the consequences, Mother. By the emphasis he gave to the word mother, anyone
would understand him to mean damn it.
Dont be silly. Of course Ill do as you wish, Clun. No need for hysterics. Lady Clun
folded her napkin carefully in her lap rather than meet his eyes and risk divulg
ing her own anger. That he dared speak to her in that way might make her heedles
s so she took great care to remain calm.
The baroness had absolutely no intention of doing nothing. Shed had her fill of h
is dithering and obduracy. She would not wait helplessly any longer. On the spot
, she determined to solve the problem of Lady Elizabeth Damogan without delay.
Not that I mind in the least that shell cry off. Its a godsend. By the way, have yo
u met the Honorable Horatia Mangold? Shes the daughter of Viscount Presteigne, wh
o has a great deal of property in Herefordshire and Wales. Youll like her, sensib
le girl. Ground rents and harvests are all well and good, still, we must diversi
fy. And wont her father be helpful when we expand our collieries!
Clun interrupted, I have no intention of expanding coal production. We mine a suf
ficiency for the castle, The Graces and the villages nearby.
Youve no head for such things, leave it to me. As I was saying, Miss Mangold is a
pretty girl and very blonde. With her, that persistently dark, Norman blood will
get a much-needed infusion of Saxon fairness. Under her breath, she added, Who, a
fter all, could want another dark, brooding de Sayre for a grandson? She buttered
a sticky bun. Since your first betrothal was arranged between strangers, it hard
ly matters whom you marry, does it? No doubt, youll wed her, bed her till shes bre
eding then leave her behind as your father did me.
Clun tried to ignore his mothers chatter, but this last barb stung. If Elizabeth w
ere my wife, he said, I would not leave her.
So you claim. And it would be an admirable break with family tradition, I admit,
though I am not optimistic. The apple never falls far from the tree. Besides, ac
cording to the on dit, your first choice has her doubts about you.

The baroness did not explain to her irritated son why she brought up the most de
meaning gossip incessantly. By doing so, she hoped to dull the luster of Lady El
izabeth in his eyes. If she succeeded, Clun would demand privately that the chit
end their betrothal and save her the botheration. For end it must. The last thi
ng the baroness wanted in the family was a clever young lady who was strong will
ed and, worst of all, over-fond of her son. Such a daughter-in-law would be too
difficult to manage.
Besides, shed already vetted Miss Mangold and knew she would make a biddable daug
hter-in-law. Her mother, the viscountess, welcomed the match as well. And Viscou
nt Presteigne, who was rich as Croesus from his coalfields, could offer invaluab
le advice to the baroness on exploiting coal on de Sayre properties in Wales. A
fortune lay in thick seams under Clun land ready to be gouged out. And she would
have it.
Even though Lady Clun would become the dowager baroness, she nevertheless intend
ed to oversee Carreg Castle, its wealth and resources because someone must secur
e the baronys future as well as her own. Her first order of business, therefore,
was to extricate her son from one betrothal so that she could arrange another an
d obtain an heir at last.
In this purposeful frame of mind, the baroness decided to call on Lady Elizabeth
on the pretext of becoming better acquainted.

* * *

For his part, Clun did not divulge that his carping parents every criticism of El
izabeth made him happier with his choice of bride. True, she would eventually en
d the betrothal and gratify his mother. In the meantime, she was a burr under th
e Furys saddle. He had only to mention how he admired Elizabeths intelligence, cou
ntenance or elegance to ruffle maternal feathers and leave a sour, strained look
on her face. This made the occasional breakfast together tolerable, even enjoya
ble.
Had not his lordship been in a bemused mood when he went upstairs after breakfas
t to fetch a different walking stick, he mightve chucked Fewings right out the se
cond storey window of his dressing room.
His valet had the unfortunate knack of bringing up unpleasant subjects in a timi
d, reproachful manner that implied the baron ought to redress them.
Whose valet did that? (Well, Ainsworths valet for one, but Smeeth had been the du
kes batman.) In Fewings defense, he only remonstrated with him on behalf of others
or to point out what ought to be.. Though shy about most things, he was a lion ab
out his lordships tailoring and now, Clun discovered, the treatment of ladies.
He learned from Fewings oblique references that Lady Elizabeth was subject to gen
eral ton censure for her perceived disregard of the baron, who was now a great f
avorite among matrons and mamas. At this point, even servants talked freely amon
g themselves about her ladyships behavior. Fewings said he knew his lordship woul
d dislike this even more than his simple valet did.

Its said, my lord, she dawdles for a better match. Thats not possible, if I may say
, Fewings hemmed and hawed, dangerously close to the window Clun considered for h
is defenestration.
No one who knows Lady Elizabeth would credit such talk, Clun assured him.
That may be, your lordship. Still, there are many who dont know her. This, he said
in an especially diffident tone that put Cluns hackles up because Fewings was ris
king rebuke and worse to do what he felt was right.
Lady Elizabeth acts on principle, as she ought, Fewings.
Not many females Clun knew would do what their hearts demanded regardless of soc
ial pressure. Actually, there was not another he could think of who would do so.
For that, she deserved admiration not criticism. Despite holding his life hosta
ge in the meantime, he respected her for it. Whats more, he didnt mind waiting. Si
lence was preferable to good-bye.
Be that as it may, its said that you avoid her now. In anger, Fewings almost whispe
red.
I am not avoiding the lady. Nor am I angry, he growled. Memories of kissing her at
the opera came up. Again.
Its whats said, my lord, Fewings murmured apologetically. Makes the lady look bad, Id
say.
Clun was allowing Elizabeth the freedom to find whatever, or rather whomever, wo
uld make her happy. He couldnt give her the marriage she demanded, much as he hat
ed to disappoint her. That was reality, much as it stuck in his craw to admit it
.
I just thought your lordship ought to know. Thats the sum of it.
Well, what do you expect me to do about it? Clun exclaimed.
His valet twisted a freshly starched, blanc dinnocence virginale stock in his han
ds. His man had to be completely overset to do violence to a meticulously presse
d neckcloth.
Clun relented. Through gritted teeth, he said, Thank you for bringing this to my
attention, Fewings. I will stop the tattle. Fine. His mother hadnt exaggerated the
problem. He would fix it.
Fewings dabbed at his eyes with the crumpled stock, too overcome for a moment to
speak. Bobbing his head and blinking, he finally eked out, I knew you would, my
lord. Sorry to overstep.
Clun held up a hand to silence the valets apology. He pointed at his ebony cane w
ith a carved ivory grip. His valet sprang to retrieve it for him along with a pa
ir of gloves and his tall beaver hat.
Thank you, Fewings.
After pondering the issue, Clun decided to treat Elizabeth very publicly to a fl
avored ice at Gunters. It would have been a better, more public treat in the hot
months of summer, but he couldnt do anything about that. The ton liked Gunters yea
r round so it would serve his purpose. For proper chaperonage, he invited the on
ly tolerable matron of his acquaintance, Prudence, Duchess of Ainsworth, and the

Duke.
One did not play the ducal card casually, so that alone would go far to stifle n
asty chatter.
The duchess accepted Cluns invitation on the couples behalf in the afternoon post,
forewarning him in an addendum that His Grace was becoming overly-protective as s
he increased. For instance, he might fear Gunters ices could give her a chill and
make the nonsensical demand that hers be warmed to room temperature before she
consumed it. This was not (here, Her Grace underscored the word not several times)
under any circumstances (any also underscored) an opportunity for your lordship t
o mock him or otherwise make light of his caution. He would find it un-amusing i
n his present state. With that caveat, they would be delighted to accompany him
and Lady Elizabeth to Gunters the following day. In closing, she requested Clun p
rovide the carriage, as His Grace might take too long deciding which of his own
vehicles was safest and which horses most placid, thereby delaying the outing by
hours.
The baron called on Elizabeth briefly at the mansion on Damogan Square and she a
ccepted his invitation.
While he enjoyed Gunters now and then, Clun looked forward to the outing with muc
h more enthusiasm than a lemon ice in December warranted.

The following afternoon at the fashionable hour, Clun had his well-appointed car
riage brought around to fetch the duke and duchess before driving to Damogan Squ
are for Elizabeth. The duke situated his petite wife with tender care on the sea
t facing forward before he settled opposite her, wedging his wide shoulders up a
gainst Cluns. Elizabeth appeared promptly when the carriage arrived and sat besid
e Her Grace.
The duchess was in fine fettle, relaxed and lively, while her husband was drawn
taut as a bowstring every time she leaned over or twisted in her seat to point o
ut something funny to Elizabeth on their way to No. 7-8 Berkeley Square. The two
women got on famously. Before they reached their destination, the duchess had i
nsisted they use given names.
Shes not going to jump out of the carriage, Ainsworth. Relax, Clun said softly.
She doesnt intend to, the duke muttered back, but she may do so on the spur of the m
oment.
Ill be careful, Jem, I promise, Her Grace interjected.
You say that, Prudence, and then become distracted by a street urchin in need of
a plaster or a lamplighter with a limp and fling yourself from the vehicle to re
nder aid. I applaud the sentiment, wife, but youre carving years off my bloo-er,
blessed lifespan, the duke said, catching himself before he uttered profanity in
Lady Elizabeths presence. He glared emphatically at his pregnant wife.
Ill try to remember not to leap to my death from the moving vehicle, Your Grace.
That, Clun, the duke said sourly, is my wife humoring me.
Prudence smiled at Elizabeth before addressing herself to the baron. Im so glad to
be going to Gunters. There are so many treats in London Ive yet to sample. And no

w with a child on the way she touched her swelling belly unconsciously. In not too
many more months Ill be forced into seclusion for my confinement.
Confinement is an awful word, Elizabeth mused. It describes imprisonment not a miracu
lous event.
Prudence shifted in her seat to look directly at Elizabeth, You are absolutely ri
ght. I detest the term and I hate even more the idea that Ill be bundled off to G
reyfriars Abbey until I deliver up whomever will come. I dont think I need confin
ement at all.
Oh, but I do, the duke groaned.
Dangerous, giving birth, Clun agreed under his breath to his friend. Cant be too car
eful, I say.
Precisely my point, Ainsworth agreed sotto voce. Small woman, large baby
Even a large female with a large baby, Clun replied.
With that, the two men frowned at the two women endorsing each others scandalous,
if not to say, dangerous freethinking on the topic of an expectant mothers need
for freedom of movement.
Ignoring her grouchy husband muttering to his friend, Prudence concluded, Elizabe
th, we are of one mind!
Bloody hell, Clun, the duke grumbled to the baron, youd better hope not.
They arrived at Gunters and carefully disembarked from Cluns carriage. The duke di
smissed the footman who approached, much preferring to assist Her Grace himself.
Clun followed suit with Elizabeth and they fell behind the duke and duchess to
enter the sweet shop. Their entrance caused a ripple of whispers immediately.
It was not as crowded as it would have been in warm weather. Nevertheless, there
were a number of ladies and gentlemen enjoying Gunters famous confections and ho
t cocoa. The duke seated his wife and Clun helped Elizabeth to her chair. Soon,
they had before them brightly colored, brightly flavored shaved ices. Contrary t
o Prudences wry conjecture, the duke made no ridiculous demands to safeguard her
health and the barons guests enjoyed themselves and their lively conversation.
This fact was duly noted and analyzed by the others present. Far more noteworthy
to the watchful matrons was the barons unmistakable affection for his fiance Lady
Elizabeth Damogan, which the lady just as obviously reciprocated. This, more th
an anything else, contradicted unflattering gossip about Lady Elizabeths alleged
fickleness and started a groundswell of goodwill toward the couple.
The grand dames whispered to one another that they hoped the two would find thei
r way. For even the worst tabbies in the ton thought it a rare treat to witness
a noteworthy couple falling in love. As a bonus, such a couple could be counted
on to provide most excellent entertainment because true love rarely progressed f
rom start to finish on a straight road without ruts. They sensed that this coupl
e would not disappoint on that score either.

Chapter 26

In which our hero is not yet jilted.

Constance and other friends warned Elizabeth about troubling rumors in circulati
on that impugned her character and imputed vile motives for her reluctance to ma
rry Lord Clun. As a result, these friends urged her to cry off without delay to
silence the criticism and restore her good name. Still she would not. Not yet.
Though false, the gossip was having its effect. She met with cold stares at the
parties she attended. Even at the balls during which she and Clun danced their w
altz, she heard titters behind her back in the withdrawing rooms. She bore it al
l. Only one mans opinion mattered. Unfortunately, his lordship was unfailingly co
urteous and aloof whenever their paths crossed. That was why she had not expecte
d Clun to call on her or to invite her to Gunters in the company of the Duke and
Duchess of Ainsworth.
She enjoyed every minute with Clun and his friends. The dukes graciousness put he
r at ease, but the duchess warmth made her feel welcome. It would be lovely to be
part of their intimate circle.
What Elizabeth remembered most clearly about the outing was silly: she marveled
at how elegantly Lord Clun ate. He neither picked at his ice nor plunged in so l
ike the way he kissed. He savored each taste, letting the tart tang of the flavo
red ice melt on his tongue. His heavy-lidded eyes dipped with pleasure and he sm
iled to himself as he paused between spoonfuls. The man certainly knew how to en
joy himself.
Out of the blue, Clun set aside his spoon to address the duchess, Your Grace, may
I consult you on a matter?
Prudence smiled broadly, Of course you may, my lord, have you a complaint?
When I find myself uncomfortable with carriage travel, he said, is there some way t
o ease the discomfort? Or better yet, to prevent the upset?
Softened by civilian life already? Bah! The duke cackled. You never suffered from m
al de mer that I can recall. Youve cast-iron guts. Or you did have before your li
fe of leisure. He turned to regard Prudence. Well wife, how would you cure our bar
ons queasy tummy on the tollroads?
Elizabeth said nothing while Clun suffered his friends teasing.
Prudence replied without hesitation, There are several remedies. The most pleasan
t and efficacious, I find, is candied ginger root. Its quite good for nausea of a
ll kinds, even morning sickness.
Excellent. Clun nodded.
Without another word, he dipped his spoon back into his treat. He looked up and
caught Elizabeth staring at him. Enjoying your ice?
She could only nod, too affected by his consideration to reply. She also made a
mental note to send out for some candied ginger as soon as she returned to the h
ouse.
Elizabeth looked furtively around the room and encountered bright, watchful eyes
in smiling matronly faces. At table after table, other patrons regarded her wit

h benign concentration. Even stern-looking older ladies nodded as if offering th

eir benediction. She blushed and returned her attention to the sweet ice.
Next, she realized Lord Cluns thoughtfulness went beyond candied ginger. Hed arran
ged this outing not simply as a treat for her, but also as a public gesture, wit
h a duke and his duchess no less, to disprove the rumors. Her ice turned into sy
rup as her heart melted, too. Again and again, he cared for her without fanfare
or expectation.
Mrs. Abeel would doubtless approve.
If Elizabeth could have loved Clun any more, she would have. As it was, her hear
t already overflowed. She ached with the excess of her affection. It was a horri
ble, heady feeling, and she hoped to survive it without ever having to recover f
rom it.
Now, at least, she could face Lady Clun at tea on the morrow.

Chapter 27
In which the Fury transubstantiates into a loose cannon.

The morning slipped away from Elizabeth due to fretting about the tte tte with Lad
y Clun. She rose from her writing desk, where she hadnt written one note of thank
s or one letter to a friend, where menus awaited review, where she hadnt done a s
ingle productive thing since breakfast.
Her mind had flitted from one worry to the next, and it always circled back to t
he most pressing question: what of Clun? Time was short. He was proving to be ju
st as obstinate as he was thoughtful.
Elizabeth had resumed her life, met friends at Hookhams, circulated Richard Marti
ns petition against cruelty to domestic animals for Lady Jane and joined the seas
onal social whirl. Nevertheless, it was hard to ignore the pressure to resolve t
he situation.
Without a doubt, the baroness was calling on her to achieve a resolution. Given
their initial, mutual dislike, she assumed her ladyship would insist she release
Clun without further delay. It wasnt right for a mother to meddle this way in he
r grown sons affairs unless, of course, hed approved it.
Elizabeth gritted her teeth when Nettles announced Lady Clun.
Show her to the blue room, Ill be there shortly. And Nettles, please send for tea
immediately.
For her part, Elizabeth intended to expedite tea and thereby hasten the baroness
departure. She straightened her gown, which was creased by hours of restless sit
ting. Looking in the pier glass, she smoothed her hair under her proper lace cap
, slipped on her gloves and left the room. Walking down the hall to the drawing
room, she felt a chill in the air. She clasped her hands before her and stepped
through the doorway.

Good afternoon, Elizabeth, Lady Clun said from where she stood in the middle of t
he room. The baroness held out both limp hands to her. I hope you will allow me t
he familiarity, under the circumstances.
Of course, Lady Clun. How do you do?
Lets not either of us be formal, shall we? Theres so much to discuss. Id rather we s
peak frankly.
By all means, Elizabeth replied and gestured to the settee. Her ladyship sat and t
witched her lips, as if attempting a smile and finding it unworthy of her effort
. Elizabeth sat in a chair opposite her. A footman delivered the tea tray and pl
aced it on a low table between the two tense women. Both ladies removed their gl
oves without a word. Elizabeth busied herself with the teapot and, after waiting
silently for the tea leaves to steep, poured a cup for Lady Clun.
How do you take it?
Milk no sugar. Child, I know this is hard for you, this awkward situation. I came
here with a purpose and would speak of it.
Elizabeth prepared the tea and handed the baroness the dainty porcelain cup and
saucer with a slight smile. Next, she prepared a cup for herself, deliberately d
ribbling in cream and stirring the cut lump of sugar slowly, waiting wordlessly
for it to dissolve.
The baroness huffed impatiently, I would speak frankly to spare you censure and t
o save my son further embarrassment. You and Lord Clun simply will not suit. All
the wishing in the world cannot make it otherwise.
You do speak frankly, your ladyship. Elizabeth felt her cheeks burn. But I believe
a happy marriage is possible between us.
Would that it were so, poor dear, you know him not. Even now, you subject him to
wagging tongues and the mockery of the ton whilst you leave him dangling. My son
is a proud man. Do you think your behavior has endeared you to him?
I know, it has not. He understands my reasons and does not appear to hold a grudg
e.
Are you waiting, as Ive heard, for a better prospect to step forward?
Elizabeth stared in shock. No.
Thats whats said. The rumors hardly do you credit. Your father will doubtless agree
with me that this situation is not to be borne. For all his faults, and there a
re many, Clun does not deserve your unseemly reluctance. For your own sake as mu
ch as his, you must set him free.
No.
No? You are determined to marry him? Yet, you do not. What could you possibly mea
n by it?
We are in the process of Elizabeth searched for the word she wanted, negotiation.
There is no more negotiating to do. The settlement was settled, my child. He was
generous to a fault, I might add. You cannot expect more from him.

That is not my meaning.

De Sayre men do not negotiate. If you know him at all by now, you know that I am
right.
Elizabeth did know. This lay at the heart of her dilemma.
As if reading the younger womans thoughts, the baroness leaned closer. Have you co
nsidered carefully what a marriage to him will entail? Lady Clun asked in a voice
full of foreboding. One must embark on life as a de Sayre wife with eyes wide op
en.
How so, your ladyship?
With mirthless relish, Lady Clun laid bare the litany of sins of which de Sayre
men were guilty. Let me tell you a bit about Lord Cluns heritage. My father-in-law
, Williams grandfather, was an infamous libertine and his wife universally pitied
. My own husband was that libertines true son. I had imagined otherwise, and that
was merely my romantic fantasy. He lived up to every inappropriate precedent fo
r behavior his forebears set.
Elizabeth said nothing to interrupt the baroness diatribe.
Prior to our marriage, he conceived a child with one Mrs. Rodwell. This, many you
ng men do, I know, but he established her and his bastard in what was by rights
the dower property in Ludlow, and he used the ground rents from other properties
to support her and her misbegotten brat. I was aware of the situation when I ma
rried him. I was too infatuated with him to pay it mind, she sighed. My husbands pa
ramour continued to live in outrageous style, thanks to his unstinting devotion.
A few years later, she died, and my husband insisted she be interred at The Gra
ces. He also had the gall to insist I raise the orphaned by-blow alongside his l
egitimate heir, Lady Clun recited this without inflection. I finally found peace w
hen he ran off to London to take up with his housekeeper. They lived as man and
wife, regardless of social ostracism and my humiliation, till he passed on to hi
s reward. Even that was not the last of his cruelties. It was his final wish to
be buried beside Mrs. Rodwell at The Graces. I made certain he was interred prop
erly in the castles family crypt with the moldering bones of every other de Sayre
. So, even in death, he sought to scorn me. Our marriage was a fiasco but for th
e procreation of an heir to the title.
Elizabeth was stunned by this recitation. The baroness pressed her advantage.
My son is a decent man in many respects, Lady Clun said, Sadly, he has also inherit
ed the familial temperament, I warn you. Resentful, withholding and cold. Make n
o mistake, when he weds, it would be best for his wife not to cherish tender fee
lings that will go unreciprocated. Unrequited love causes only anguish. Mark my
words: de Sayre men do not love easily if they love at all and they think nothin
g of causing pain to those they do not.
Lord Clun has said he will honor his vows. Hes a man of his word.
He is a de Sayre.
Meaning?
He is a man of his word, child. The baroness sighed theatrically. Tell me, has he e
ver told you he loved you?
Not explicitly.

By Lady Cluns smug expression, Elizabeth knew the truth was plain on her face. He
had not. Not once. Well, except in the context of denying its place in a sound
marriage.
I know, its not romantic of me to say so, but perhaps what you believe to be his f
eelings are the result of your own girlish hopes. I pray you will not make the m
istake I did. My son has always declared himself uninterested in a love match. H
e prefers a rational arrangement. Yours was meant to be an arranged marriage, wa
s it not?
Elizabeth could only shake her head slowly no.
Yes, dear. I fear it was so. In fact, while youve been procrastinating for your ow
n obscure reasons, there is another young lady, who shares my sons views on marri
age.
Who?
I shouldnt speak out of turn, but you ought to know. If not for this unfortunate s
ituation, I believe he would come to an understanding with the Honorable Horatia
Mangold. To say more would be indelicate. The baroness had sown the seeds of dou
bt as intended. She dared not overplay her hand. Her son had yet to meet Miss Ma
ngold.
Clun has said nothing to me.
Nor would he. He waits for you as he must.
Ah, was all Elizabeth could say, which evidently delighted the baroness.
You must know men prefer to avoid unpleasantness of this nature. Thats why we wome
n must deal with it for them. If you have any regard for Clun, you will do what
is right and fair. You will release him without delay.
Elizabeth sat silent. The baroness, on the other hand, beamed with good humor.
Thank you for tea. Lady Clun waited until Elizabeth set her jittering teacup down
before asking, Is your father at home?
Hes in his library.
It would be remiss of me not to say hello before I go.
He prefers not to be disturbed while at his scholarly work.
I wont disturb him for long, dear, the baroness said and stood up. Elizabeth went t
o pull the bell cord.
Nettles opened the door.
In a fog, Elizabeth addressed the butler, Lady Clun would speak to my father brie
fly before she leaves. Will you announce her first? Nettles bowed himself out to
do as she asked.
Elizabeth escorted Lady Clun into the hallway.
His library? The baroness asked.
The earl opened a door further down the hall, peered over his spectacles and squ
inted. He waved to the baroness with a vague, friendly smile, Georgiana, what a s

urprise. Have you a moment to rescue me from my scraps of foolscap and dusty dic
tionaries?
Indeed I do, Morefield, Id welcome a brief coze, if I wont disturb you, she cooed an
d smiled a smug dismissal to Elizabeth before floating down the hall toward the
earl. The two disappeared into the library and the door closed behind them.
The baroness words cut Elizabeth to the quick. Was she keeping Clun from the kind
of marriage he desired? Hed said plainly enough he wanted no love match; his beh
avior demonstrated something else, something warm and considerate. It was someth
ing very like affection.
Rather than let herself become discouraged, Elizabeth grew angry. She stood stew
ing, long after Lady Clun disappeared into the library.
Back in the morning room, she dashed off a note to Constance and pressed it into
a footmans hand. She told him to make haste delivering it and to await reply. He
r friends response was not what shed hoped. Constance would see her at the Roebuck
fte that evening and promised to find her there as soon as possible.
It would have to do.

Constance found Elizabeth in the cream and gilt splendor of Lord and Lady Roebuc
ks townhouse and led her from the ballroom into the ladies withdrawing room, which
was unoccupied. Elizabeth had hardly begun to retell the tortures of the aftern
oon when Lady Clun herself entered the room, ostrich plumes swaying over a silve
r silk turban. They cut off their conversation abruptly and watched the baroness
.
Do go on, girls. Pay me no mind. I cannot imagine why Lady Roebuck refuses to ope
n the windows. A morbid fear of catching a grippe or perhaps she frets that the
night fog will besmirch her pristine draperies. Only the foolish would think cre
ams and ivories a good notion in Town. Such a crush, she must be aux anges. Stil
l, a little air, however smudgy, would do a world of good.
Other ladies drifted in after Lady Clun because the musicians in the ballroom ha
d paused. The women fluttered to seats or flounced by to use the convenience in
the adjoining room. Elizabeth and Constance remained silent and watchful, perche
d on the settee.
The baroness walked right up to them and looked down at Elizabeth with cold, pal
e eyes. Oh, I see how it is. You are telling your friend how the odious Lady Clun
came to tea and spoilt all your dreams of cupids darts and fairy dust.
Thanks to rumors of the de Sayre-Damgogan debacle-to-be, the lounging ladies fix
ed on the scene playing out by the settee.
Tis better to know what to expect before one marries, dont you think? This last barb
, the baroness addressed to Constance, as if asking her opinion.
Elizabeth cut in, murmuring sweetly, Your ladyship mustnt infer from one de Sayres
disdain for his bride that the next will dislike his.
Gleeful glances shot back and forth. Mouths contorted to stifle amusement. No on
e ever dared throw Lady Cluns self-proclaimed failure of a marriage in her face,
much less blame her for it. Constance stared aghast at her friend. Everyone else

leaned closer. The spectators to this gladiatorial match eagerly waited to see
who would next draw blood.
The earl and I are of one mind you should know, Lady Clun murmured. Her mouth turn
ed down in a taut smile that shouldve warned Elizabeth to caution.
That is hard to credit. My father thinks highly of your son.
Would that you did as well, child, Lady Clun delivered her coup de grce. Elizabeth
defending her son only vexed the baroness more. True, she rarely disguised her d
isappointment in him in correspondence to friends, but brutal honesty, she belie
ved, was a parents prerogative.
Lady Petra had entered the withdrawing room with her friend Lady Wesley and arri
ved in time to hear enough of the exchange to know it must not continue. She cas
t a glance at her friend, who took her hint and spoke up in the fraught silence.
Georgiana, its been a dogs age since Ive seen you! What a becoming gown, Lady Wesley
said to Lady Clun. And such a festive display of ostrich plumes. Well, why not! N
o sense saving ones finery just for court, is there?
The effusion of plumes in question quivered atop the baroness head as the subtle
set-down landed. Her ostentatious display was noted and found amusing by one of
the tons wittiest women24. Whats more, Lady Wesleys droll delivery quelled any reto
rt the baroness mightve offered.
Girls, Lady Petra said, have you refreshed yourselves? The musicians are about to r
esume. She held her hands out to Constance and Elizabeth. Shall we?
Lady Clun and Elizabeth looked daggers at one another while Lady Petra and Lady
Wesley herded the young woman from the hushed room.
Tongues wagged for the rest of the ball. Those whod suffered Lady Cluns waspish se
t-downs in the past anticipated the joy of dining out on The Confrontation till
New Year.

* * *

When, at breakfast the next day, the Fury fussed about Elizabeths impertinence, w
ilted hope revived and bloomed anew in Cluns breast.
Sadly, that was exactly how his lordship felt hopeful after a lifelong drought.
Yet, he would never have described his improved mood in such mortifyingly flower
y metaphors before meeting Elizabeth. Such lapses into poetical nonsense occurre
d all too frequently now and, by God, it irked him when he caught himself at it.
Any day, he was bound to make a complete fool of himself out loud if he didnt ni
p this ghastly mooncalf-ishness in the bud.
Thus, he berated himself for hoping when any rational man would recognize hopele
ssness and carry on stoically. It was futile, he reminded himself sternly, moonc
alfery notwithstanding. (Though not a proper word, mooncalfery ought to be, he f
elt certain Elizabeth would agree.)

Clun reminded himself that his mother brought out the worst in some ladies. The
Confrontation meant nothing. His engagement was no less doomed in its aftermath.
In this vein, Clun discouraged himself until comfortably wretched once again.

Chapter 28
In which our heroine seeks blood from a turnip.

Elizabeth returned home early from the evening. In truth, shed escaped from the f
resh whirlwind of gossip she and the baroness whipped up in the Roebucks cream an
d gilt withdrawing room. Before she fled, Lady Petra consoled her that the Chris
tmas season seemed to encourage bad behavior so another imbroglio was bound to s
urpass hers quickly. Cold comfort indeed.
As soon as she handed her velvet cloak to Nettles, she sought out her father for
consolation. She found him at his writing desk, piles of open dictionaries arra
yed around him.
When she entered the library, he put down his quill and leaned back in his chair
.
You look lovely. He perused her over the top of his reading spectacles. Did you enj
oy your evening, Elizabeth?
No, I did not. Lady Clun will not be satisfied until she has crushed any hope I h
ave of a happy marriage with her son. She recounted the baroness several attempts
to interfere.
Daughter, I grieve for you, but you have brought this on yourself with your inexp
licable behavior. You announce your engagement to the world against my explicit
wishes then dilly-dally rather than marry the man. You are unfair to Clun and ri
sk irreparable harm to your own reputation.
Has Clun complained?
No, he has not. He is too gentlemanly to do so. Lady Clun expressed concern on hi
s behalf.
She hates me, Father, I know it.
No. She cares for her son.
She thinks of herself and no one else.
She has his best interests in mind. You have set tongues wagging all over London.
At minimum, you are condemned as fickle, at worst, that you scheme for a more a
dvantageous offer which, he shook his head when she opened her mouth, I know is no
t true in either case. Elizabeth, I cannot cope with the chaos youve caused or th
e criticism youve called down upon yourself. If you intend to cry off, do so. Sto
p shilly-shallying. Spare us all further upset.

I am not dallying for some frivolous, selfish reason. I hope to establish the pro
per foundation for our marriage, but Clun insists love has no place. So I must c
onvince him.
Have you considered that he might not change his mind? That he might not wish to
be convinced.
I dont believe he means what he says.
But Lady Clun does.
What does she know? Elizabeth said with a snort, She only sees her spouse in him. T
hats an awful burden for a child to bear at any age. Without meaning to, she descr
ibed her own life as much as the barons and saw the earls expression stiffen in re
action.
Father, she is the first to point out his faults, even before he exhibits them.
Better you accept him as he is than set your heart on changing him to suit you. I
f you cannot let him be, let him go. Release him.
No. I love him and I suspect he loves me.
Then by all means marry him, the earl said with growing exasperation.
I cant until he has a change of heart.
The earl removed his spectacles carefully and set them aside. If only you were mo
re like your mother, God rest her soul, the earl said morosely, She was a practica
l miss not the dedicated romantic you like to imagine.
But she loved you and you her.
She most emphatically did not. Nor I her. Not when first we married. She was enti
rely too managing and opinionated.
Elizabeths eyes goggled at the earl. No.
We fell in love after we married, he said. And she made me promise to do for you as
her father did for her, to find you a worthy man. In Lord Clun, I thought I had
.
You did.
Im glad you have at least that much sense. Mrs. Abeel and I always worried you wer
e too susceptible to flights of fancy. We feared an unscrupulous man would take
advantage of your sensibility and break your heart. The earl shook his head slowl
y. This unseemly hesitance cannot continue, Elizabeth. If you will not marry Lord
Clun, I must insist you end the engagement immediately.
Immediately, why?
I have let this go on too long. Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, but the earl
declared, You will end it or I shall on your behalf.
A little time, Father, just a little more time. A few weeks, she asked, her voice
thick with unshed tears.
To what purpose?

Elizabeth cast about for an excuse. Lady Petra believes it would be best done aft
er Twelfth Night, with fewer gossips in Town to stir up a scandal broth. Thats no
t much more than a fortnight from now. Please.
You will do so by then, daughter, or I shall. In the meantime, youll go to Devonsh
ire after Christmas, do you hear? There you will rusticate until this brouhaha b
lows over. By Twelfth Night, you will do what you must. That is all. He waited fo
r her to acknowledge his order and when she barely nodded, he added, I am sorry,
Elizabeth.
Without looking at her again, the earl returned to his books, clearly uncomforta
ble with her turbulent emotions. She stood for a moment to watch him resettle hi
mself in his large, leather chair. He brushed his papers free of sand and aligne
d the leather mat perfectly parallel to the desks edge. He did not look up when s
he walked out and quietly closed the door behind her.
She stumbled up the stairs to her bedchamber. She shouldve known better than to s
eek consolation from the earl. Hadnt she learned that lesson often enough growing
up? He preferred to fix a problem rather than listen sympathetically. This was
especially true when, to his mind, she was the problem. Whenever she came to him
with a grievance, he invariably pointed out the ways in which her behavior was
wanting. Worse, whenever her behavior disappointed him, he invoked her dead moth
er, and mourned her absence, till he became morose and impatient. With eyes heav
enward, he would mutter How am I to take her in hand, Bess?
Well, at least he hadnt begged for ghostly guidance in this instance. Shed have bu
rst into tears if he had.
If only her mothers death hadnt devastated her father, perhaps he couldve looked pa
st her resemblance to his wife and perceived the daughter in need of a parents un
conditional love. He never could. Her mother still claimed her fathers whole hear
t from the grave.
With that, the puzzling pieces of her life fell into order. Finally, Elizabeth u
nderstood that she had been orphaned not once but twice when her mother passed a
way. She lost her father as surely as her mother on the day of her birth. All th
ose years, she idealized the earls devotion to her mothers memory, and she ignored
the price she herself paid. She grew up a lonely child, envying a beloved spect
ral being and wishing someday for an undying, perfect love of her own in compens
ation.
Her next thought stunned her: she would never wish that childhood on any child o
f hers.
For the first time, she judged the love shed always idealized from this new persp
ective, as a woman contemplating marriage and a family of her own. Perhaps, she
allowed, it was better if Clun did not love her with such single-minded devotion
. Then, if she were to die, he could lay her to rest and carry on without her. T
heir children would never compete with a ghost for his affection, because he wou
ld love them, even if he never allowed himself to love the woman who bore them.
Then, Elizabeths natural optimism reasserted itself. Whos to say shed be first to s
tick her spoon in the wall? Perhaps, hed shuffle off this mortal coil and leave h
er widowed with children to raise. The possibility of his death dropped her stom
ach to her knees.
But hold there, she chided herself. She must not make her fathers mistake either.
Best she develop a cooler, more rational regard for her impossible Shropshire l
ord.

For the sake of their future children, she would try to be more levelheaded and
less in love.
She considered him objectively. Lord Clun was hardly an ideal husband, what with
his stubborn, unreasoning nature, his inappropriate sense of humor, his pessimi
stic propensities, his disdain for romantic attachment and his confidence that h
e knew best, first and always even when he was wrong. He was often wrong and nev
er willing to admit it. In truth, if he werent so terribly appealing in other way
s, hed just be terrible.
With that, her mind calmed. Her thoughts cleared. This changed everything.
She could in good conscience accept his terms and marry him. Once wed, he would
appreciate her mature, moderate affection and perhaps reciprocate it. Perhaps, a
ffection might one day lead to warmer feelings, one could never tell. But, she r
eminded herself sternly, it mustnt get out of hand. Nor should she ever expect an
y reciprocity, because that might lead to disappointment.
The solution to their impasse was at hand. Elizabeth had to see Clun immediately
.
Bearing in mind the fuss Lady Caroline Lamb caused visiting Lord Byron at his lo
dgings in disguise, Elizabeth decided Clun must meet her as if by chance in an u
nexceptional, semi-public location. Happily, she knew just the place.

* * *

At a crowded card party, Clun felt a shiver run down his spine for no reason. He
hadnt recognized anyone on his way into the saloon where tables were already occ
upied by players. He stood by a foursome playing whist when he sensed her standi
ng behind him. He turned his head slowly, adjusted his stance to address Elizabe
th properly and bowed over her hand.
She wore pale ivory silk. And pearls. Everything about her reminded him of fresh
, rich cream skimmed from milk.
Good evening, Lady Elizabeth.
Lord Clun, may I have a word? Her tone was crisp.
His body reacted as if to danger with a quickening of his pulse. Of course.
She was about to jilt him at a card party of all places. He stalked after her to
a quiet corner of the room.
You surprise me, Elizabeth, Id have thought youd prefer a more private spot for thi
s. He bent his head near so she might say her piece without avid ears overhearing
it.
She hissed at him, You surprise me as well, sir, to accept whatever happens so pa
ssively. I thought you a man of spirit.

Constraints of Polite Society keep me from display. Well?

Will you meet me tomorrow at Mr. Soanes house?
John Soane, the architect?
Yes, Ill go there on an errand for my father and it will be private enough to disc
uss important matters with you.
He relaxed. When?
She suggested a time in the afternoon to which he agreed.
Lady Elizabeth Damogan would be his betrothed one more day. He was happy even th
ough she looked as if itd be one day too many.

Chapter 29
In which our hero and heroine meet as if by chance.

All morning, Clun ignored his rancid stomach and sweating palms. However, he cou
ldnt forget that his betrothal to Elizabeth was scheduled to end that afternoon.
With each passing hour, he reminded himself grimly, one less hour remained of th
eir connection. And after those cruel hours crept by, he counted the minutes.
He was about to leave to meet her, when a mud-spattered Tyler Rodwell strode in
the front door.
What brings you here in such a state? Clun asked. He dropped his hat and gloves ba
ck on the table, glad for a temporary stay of execution. His half-brother half-d
ragged him down the hall. Roddy, you should know the baroness is here. Roddy stopp
ed dead in his tracks. Though not home at the moment.
Thank the Lord for small mercies, he said and resumed his march. Ive disturbing news
so I rode hell-for-leather to pass it on. They went into the barons study and Rod
dy shut the door behind them.
Whats happened?
Roddy paced back and forth. You recall how odd it was the baroness knew your doin
gs soon as youd done them.
Clun leaned against his heavy desk. Only too well.
Yet she didnt know what you were up to at The Graces when Lady Elizabeth was there
. Tried to ferret news from me, but I put her off the scent.
And she went rampaging off. Clun chuckled until he remembered shed rampaged her way
to his London townhouse and roosted there ever since.
As you suspected, she has a spy in your household.

I see, Clun said, his expression flinty. Who?

Ted overheard a conversation after you left with your lady. Her man ap Rhys snuck
himself over to meet with someone staying behind.
Several stayed back, Clun said, his jaw working. Who is it?
Before I tell you, Ill have your word as a gentleman you wont kill him without hear
ing him out first.
Clun stood tall and snarled at his half-brother, Tell me.
Your word, my lord, Roddy crossed his brawny arms and the two eyed each other, as
matched as bookends. Will.
You have my word. Now, tell me.
Your valet.
Fewings? Timid-as-a-dormouse Fewings? Hes afraid of my mother. And terrified of me
.
Still, he keeps the baroness informed.
So thats how she knew of my trip to Bath, Clun started to piece the evidence togeth
er as he paced in the library, I took Fewings with me. From Bath, I sent him back
to London and went on to The Graces alone.
Roddy nodded and said, And she grew desperate enough to quiz me during his absenc
e.
He joined me when I extended my stay. Cluns grim visage grew darker. He clawed thro
ugh his short hair.
But shed rushed to Town before he arrived, so she didnt know of Lady Elizabeth, Rodd
y added.
She doesnt much like Elizabeth, as I predicted.
Ap Rhys told Fewings youre to marry a Miss Mangold. That so?
Ha! Clun barked a mirthless laugh. No, shes not for me.
But ideal for the baroness to keep doing as she pleases, Roddy pointed out.
Apparently. Clun rubbed his cheek, feeling the closeness of Fewings afternoon shave
. Ive let her have her way at the castle too long.
I take full responsibility for the situation.
No, Roddy, dont bother. This is my fault, but I hope youll help me remedy the situa
tion.
With pleasure. Whered you like to begin?
First, lets have a word with Fewings, shall we?
Will, Roddy reminded.

Clun cut him off. I gave my word, Roddy. Ill hear him out first.
The two hulking men entered Cluns bedroom to find Fewings in the dressing room up
to his elbow in one of the barons large boots applying his formula for bootblack
.
Upon seeing them, Fewings started. Your lordship, I thought youd gone out.
My brother is here all the way from The Graces with unpleasant news, Clun said, ca
reful to keep his tone neutral. This was no mean feat, given how he longed to br
eak his mans man into two half-men.
N-n-news? Fewings quivered. His Adams apple bobbed. He looked warily from one scowl
ing de Sayre to the other. He let the boot fall. I see.
Perhaps you do, perhaps not, Roddy said in a menacing tone.
Ive wondered for some time how my mother could be so well-informed about me. It oc
curred to me that she might have someone on my staff keeping her apprised of my
private concerns. How could that be? Im lord of the manor. What fool would be dis
loyal to me? Clun asked quietly.
F-f-fool, yes, my lord, Fewings replied with a hard swallow.
It was a mystery for lo these many months until my nephew overheard a conversatio
n in the stable between this spy and ap Rhys.
Fewings blinked without comprehension.
Lady Clun calls him Price, Roddy explained.
Cluns valet closed his eyes. What little color was in his face drained down his n
eck. He placed the blacking compound back in its wood box, folded the chamois, p
ut it inside and closed the lid. He stood before them, a slim man struggling not
to collapse before a firing squad.
It was wrong of me, he said in a strangled voice. Ill leave immediately, my lord. I
am sorry for betraying your trust.
Not so hasty, Fewings, Clun said and grabbed his valets arm. Fewings looked down hi
s thin arm to the barons big fist then up his much thicker arm. Clun continued, I
would like to understand the situation.
The valet glanced up to meet his masters hard black eyes, I dare not speak out of
turn.
Odd time to develop scruples, wouldnt you say? Roddy scoffed.
By rights, I should turn you off without a character for revealing details of my
life to anyone. Even the baroness.
Yes, my lord.
Then why do it?
Fewings looked at his feet.
How much does Lady Clun pay you?
His head shot up. Nothing, my lord. I-I had no choice.

No choice? Roddy cried, incredulous.

My family, your tenants west of the castle, she threatened to turn them off if I
didnt do as she wanted.
She has no right to turn anyone off his farm, Fewings, Clun growled.
But shes got her ways, my lord, so I didnt doubt for moment shed see it done.
Ah, Clun said and released Fewings arm.
Though its too late for regret, Im ashamed of myself. I have been all the while, yo
ur lordship. Youve been a good master and fair. You deserved better than I did yo
u. If youll let me, Ill go now, Fewings finished quietly.
Clun let his slump-shouldered valet start gathering up his things from the barons
dressing room.
Well, Fewings, if you insist on leaving my service, Ill have to let you. He paused
dramatically. But for what its worth, Id rather you stay.
The stunned look on Fewings face was one for the ages. Clun struggled to keep fro
m laughing and wished Bess had been there to see it, too.
Fewings, it ends now. All of it. My mother will not treat the castle as her fiefd
om or play petty tyrant to have her way again. Her reign is over. Clun slapped th
e poor man on the back and sent him lurching forward and his things tumbling to
the floor.
His lordship turned to his half-brother, Roddy, while shes in London, organize you
r men at The Graces to take back the castle. How long will you need to replace h
er minions with men and women wholl answer to me?
Roddy was thoughtful. Being the the time of year it is, wed need almost everyone a
t the castle. Thatd leave The Graces under-staffed till February at least.
Do what you must.
Mr. Rodwell, sir? Fewings spoke up timidly, My familys not the only one under her th
umb. Youll find quite a fewll be happy as grigs in a grotto to turn a deaf ear to
her orders from now on. Theyre not loyal to her so much as careful of their livel
ihoods.
Ill keep it in mind, Roddy replied with a grin. In that case, we can have much of it
sorted by the end of January, that is if I start back at first light.
Fewings, you have a critical role to play in this, Clun said.
Ill redeem myself, Lord Clun, Fewings replied. I promise you. His valet threw back hi
s narrow shoulders, blinking away the moisture in his eyes.
I dont doubt it, Clun said. By God, youre a sensitive soul. The only other time Ive se
en you this misty-eyed was when I passed on Ainsworths praise for your way with b
ootblack. Smile a little! He grabbed his valets shoulders and shook him till he re
laxed. There, thats an improvement. With a hand still on Fewings shoulder, Clun told
him, Take care of my brother tonight. Keep him clear of Lady Clun till the morni
ng.
Yes, your lordship! Fewings replied, his expression earnest. To Roddy, the valet b

ecame business-like and said, Youll want a hot bath, sir, and a dinner tray in the
guest room farthest from Lady Cluns chambers. Brandy or port?
Brandy, Roddy answered.
Ill see to it with Mr. Snelling. Your clothes will be clean and your boots gleamin
g by morning, sir.
Good man. Explain the situation to the butler discreetly, will you? Clun continued
issuing orders, Second, youll be responsible for keeping her ladyship misinformed.
Youll distract her here while Roddy cleans house in Wales. In the New Year, shell
find herself and her staff removed to Ludlow, where shell live as I see fit.
Speaking of fits, wont she be having spasms over this, Roddy chuckled.
Its customary. I must marry. The dowager baroness belongs at the property set asid
e for her enjoyment. All three laughed at the thought of Lady Clun enjoying perma
nent exile from her seat of power. With your help, Fewings, well have her thinking
Ive taken her bait and Im considering the Mangold chit. That should keep her here
for the time required.
Im your man, Fewings said, stoutly.
And I am late. Ill return in an hour or so.
With that, Clun rushed from the room, pulled on his riding gloves and tall beave
r hat and flew out the front door. A footman awaited with Algernons reins in hand
. Clun mounted his horse, urged him to a smart trot and threaded through traffic
. He rode to No. 12-13 Lincolns Inn Field and dismounted. He showed a street urch
in a shiny coin and told him to tend his horse until he returned. With a hop, th
e boy took hold of Algernons halter fearlessly.
Youll earn two more, if you keep him happy, Clun added.
The boy, cynical even at his age, laughed and said, Oh, ell be eggstadic, mlor.

* * *

Elizabeth dressed with care for this interview. She wore a pelisse of Mexican bl
ue silk and wool striped satinet and a warm, cream cotton poplin walking dress e
legantly flounced with three tiers of lace in the same shade. She wore a lace fi
chu tucked in her bodice so as not to distract Clun while they talked. Her bonne
t in matching blue satin sported a coquettish plume and her gloves were the same
cream of her gown in soft kid suede. The modiste had sworn up and down that Mex
ican blue rather than Pomona green made her eyes sparkle and flattered her compl
exion. Elizabeth prayed it was true.
Washburn had dressed her hair in a braided bun with curls at her temples that in
evitably relaxed into softer waves at her cheeks. Drooping hair would not distra
ct her; nothing could put her out of curl, for the day was full of promise.
She and her maid arrived at Mr. John Soanes townhouse and offices at No. 12-13 Li

ncolns Inn Fields just before the appointed hour to bump into Lord Clun. She came o
n the pretext of returning a book her father borrowed from the famed architect.
Mr. Soane was famous for having redesigned the Bank of England, its great halls
and the Guards barracks. The commission had made Mr. Soane a rich man and, as was
the fashion among rich men, the architect collected rare books and antiquities.
His library contained thousands of books on architecture, but he also shared an
interest in language with the earl. In fact, Mr. Soane and her father lent one
another scholarly works and rare dictionaries on a regular basis. To facilitate
their exchange, Elizabeth often volunteered to retrieve or return books because
she loved wandering through the double-height galleries Mr. Soane designed to di
splay his accumulation of classic antiquities.
Mr. Soanes butler, Pilcrow, explained that his master could not join Lady Elizabe
th, and she should feel free to go to the Students Room and exchange books as she
wished.
Elizabeth left Washburn sitting in the front foyer.
At the end of the narrow hallway, Elizabeth entered the Dome Room. It was a maca
bre clutter of Classical Greek and Roman fragments. Ancient sculpted body parts
hung from the walls and decorated every possible open space. Marble hands pointe
d nowhere and felt nothing they touched. Severed stone heads stared without seei
ng from niches. Cinerary urns emptied of their dead filled shelves. Ancient krat
ers cluttered tabletops. All was an unsettling jumble of lost and broken people
illuminated by natural light from skylights high overhead. Too late she realized
it was not the most comfortable place in which to have a fraught conversation.
In the Colonnade past the Dome Room, she climbed a narrow staircase to the Stude
nts Room, a small library devoted to general references, atlases, encyclopedias a
nd dictionaries. She waited there for a time.
And she waited.
And waited.
Growing restless, she returned to the Dome Room and peered down the hall at Wash
burn dozing by the front door. She sat on a truncated Corinthian capital and tra
ced acanthus leaves with her fingers. A massive Roman altar dedicated to Hercule
s stood in the middle of the Dome Room floor. She walked over and examined its s
cenes. In one, he slew the Nemean lion; just beyond, he stood poised to behead t
he Hydra. She circled it slowly. The gloriously muscular demigod, naked but for
a lions skin and sandals, held up the girdle of the Amazons queen. Ignoring the fa
nciful birds, bulls, horses and mythical creatures, she found the hero in each s
egment of the frieze (and thumped her bonneted head against the stone trying to
get a closer look). Rubbing her forehead, she went around again to linger lasciv
iously over the naked figure so like Clun in miniature. She enjoyed the shiver e
ach iteration inspired.
The half-hour chimed on a clock tucked away somewhere. He was half an hour late,
and just when shed decided not to linger, she jumped at the echoing sound of the
doors brass knocker. A footman opened the door. Her heart raced. Pilcrow approac
hed and bowed Lord Clun into the foyer. Her skin heated as her anxiety grew. Her
thoughts jumbled and she stood frozen in place.
Lord Cluns arrival did not faze the butler in the least. Many visitors came to se
e Mr. Soanes acquisitions, from antiquities to Hogarths oil paintings of A Rakes Pro
gress. The right sort of gentleman was always welcome because they often came to co
nsider a commission for the architect. Born and bred the right sort, Clun handed
the butler his hat, stick and gloves and presented his engraved calling card. H

e was directed down the hallway with the butlers profuse apologies that Mr. Soane
was unavailable.

* * *

Clun saw Elizabeth immediately. She stood slim and straight in the tall doorway
at the end of the hall. Lit from above, she glowed like a celestial being, his a
ngel of doom.
Her eyes revealed nothing. No smile for him today. He strode up to her and bowed
.
Elizabeth, he greeted her. She stiffened. Remembering himself, he glanced over his
shoulder to check for the butler. More loudly, he said, What a pleasant surprise
, Lady Elizabeth.
Im on an errand for my father and became engrossed in Mr. Soanes other treasures, sh
e said. For quite a long time.
Ah. By chance, I thought to see them myself, then an urgent matter delayed me. I
suppose you are anxious to conclude your errand here and be on your way. This cod
ed conversation was conducted for the butlers benefit, in case he eavesdropped ou
t of sight. Could I persuade you to show me some of the notable items? Clun offere
d her his arm. She hesitated before taking it. Mr. Soane has so many antiquities.
Have you a favorite, my lady?
He assumed she would take him aside, tell him their betrothal was over and leave
with her somnolent maid.
Elizabeth regarded him for a moment and said, Indeed I do. Let me show you.
She led him to the Roman altar in the Dome Room.
Mr. Soane purchased this from the Earl of Bessboroughs estate. He outbid my father
at the auction and now Im sorry we lost the bidding. Its dedicated to Hercules.
She leaned over and ran a gloved finger over Hercules broad back carved in deep r
elief. Thats a lions skin on his shoulders. Clun leaned close to look. Her face was
inches from his. But it could just as easily have been a grizzly bears, she whisper
ed to him.
Wait.
Her smile made breathing difficult. Her soft tone and considering look also took
Clun by surprise. He straightened up slowly, confused by this most perplexing f
emale. Of course, he wanted to hold her just once more beforewell, before their g
ood-bye. He gathered her to him and inhaled deeply. Her scent floated above the
earthiness of stone and clay surrounding him.
She didnt resist. Perhaps, shed allow a kiss good-bye, too.
He bent his head and watched her as she watched him come within a hairs breadth o

f her lips. He stopped.

Oh, Im doing it again, arent I? She squeezed her eyes closed.
Grateful as a condemned man for his last meal, he kissed her upturned mouth, onc
e, twice and so forth till he lost count.
She leaned away slightly to stop him and said, Clun, I must say something.
After he kissed her again, he replied quietly, Say what you must. Pon my word, I c
an feel no pain at the moment.
Thats most fortunate because Ive come to ask you to marry me.
Of the many things Clun imagined Elizabeth saying, strangely enough, this was no
t among them. He struggled to get his bearings. He opened and closed his mouth l
ike a fish out of water. What to say? Time stopped as he fumbled for a coherent
thought.
She pushed him away.
When he looked at her again, he saw what he dreaded most to see in her expressio
n: disappointment.
Youve nothing to say, my lord?
I dont know what to say. Could you be happy with me?
She studied him, What makes you think I cant?
Everything youve said to date. I havent changed.
No, I dont suppose you have, Clun, but you have a little affection for me, dont try
to deny it. She chuckled.
Chuckles of that nature under those circumstances could be misinterpreted a numb
er of ways. One might, for example, mistake this involuntary expression of nervo
us bravado for arrogance. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, Clun understood.
He heard it for what it was, the breathy, hopeful laughter of a nervous young w
oman waiting to have her fantasy of love made real. By him.
It infuriated him. He was furious, too, that she made him feel things that hed ex
plicitly told her he would not.
A little affection for her?
No, damn it. About her, he felt immoderately, passionately, desperately doomed.
Doomed because he would rather live in hell than ever cause her to regret him. A
nd he knew in his heart that even if he cared for her to the best of his ability
, he was doomed to watch her dreams wilt, brown and crumble to dust over the yea
rs while he said the wrong thing or failed to do the right thing time and again.
At least, he knew what was best for her even if it meant carving out his own, co
ld, undersized heart in the process. He lied. He stared back at her and finally
broke his stony silence, Lady Elizabeth, I fear youre mistaken.
She blinked at him. He waited. She frowned at him and gave no indication she was
about to burst into tears, slap him or storm off. Hed prepared himself for those
reactions, knowing all were well deserved.

Clun, perhaps I shouldve explained myself better, she assumed the tone of a univers
ity lecturer. I have changed my mind. I admit I did romanticize love in the past.
Lately, Ive come to a more mature appreciation of emotional moderation. I will e
ndeavor to embrace your point of view. In other words, I can in good conscience
accept your terms. Now will you marry me?
Ill only make you miserable, he said, making himself miserable.
That is rubbish, Clun, really.
You wont be happy compromising to suit me, he tried again.
I say I will.
What in Gods name have I done? He cried in anguish. You of all people mustnt settle.
You deserve all the poetry, moonbeams and fairy tales that life has to offer.
Clun, I believe I can be happy with you if only youd stop arguing with me.
How could you after lecturing me for weeks that my notion of marriage is a pathet
ic mistake?
Finally, he silenced her. Though it gave him the satisfaction of turnabout, it l
eft him uneasy. She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips.
Clun, are you quite well?
I am and dont matronize me.
Im only concerned
nunciate at him, as
ge must be based on
e on your terms, so

youve suffered some sort of mental debility. She leaned close to e

if he had gone simpleminded, I agree with you. A sound marria
more than nave fantasies of love. Therefore, I accept marriag
long as you accept a few conditions of mine.

Such as?
I wont reproach you for your lack of feelings so long as you dont reproach me if I
have feelings you dont approve of or reciprocate. You may not hold them against m
e. Now. Will that do?
No. That will not do!
Perhaps she was right and he had lost his wits completely. Here he stood arguing
against precisely what hed argued for not long ago. And he did it because he wou
ld walk through the gates of Hell to see her happy in life. In truth, he anticip
ated taking up residence there once she was happily married.
Clun, dont do this. I said Ill accept your terms if youll accept mine. she pleaded wi
th him.
The more she talked, the less he believed her and the more he hated himself.
No, Elizabeth, listen to me. He gripped her by the shoulders. I wont marry you.
She stared at him. You dont mean that, she finally said.
If he hadnt still been reeling from the aftershocks of her marriage proposal, he
mightve anticipated her response. To end to his torment, Clun spoke harshly, Belie
ve me or dont, Lady Elizabeth, its of little consequence. Ive no more patience for
your back-and-forth-ing. First, you wont have me then you will until you wont agai

n. And now, you say you will. Yet, I expect youll change your mind and one of us
is bound to suffer for it in the end. Im leaving Town on Christmas as Im to host N
ew Years festivities in Shropshire. So you may cry off at your leisure. He couldnt
meet her gaze as he lied and lied and lied.
But, Clun she began to argue.
Good-bye, he said and roughly pulled her close to kiss her quiet. He waited for he
r to slap him. Instead, she gave him a thoughtful look. Her fingers stole up to
her bruised lips, feeling their last kiss, the kiss he couldnt help.
You couldnt kiss me like that if you didnt love me a little.
There, you see? He pounced. Say what you will, everything will always devolve to th
at.
His outburst shocked her. He retreated a pace. She stepped back, too, as if to s
ee him more clearly. She stood under a skylight and he watched her expression sh
utter up into a tear-less, remote dignity. The disenchantment in her faraway eye
s strengthened his resolve and sealed his lips. He couldnt bear to be the cause o
f that expression time and again for the rest of their lives.
They stared at one another in silence until she backed away from him.
As you wish. It will end by Twelfth Night, I hope that will be satisfactory.
She hurried from the Dome Room and out of sight. He heard the murmur of Soanes bu
tler, the front door open and close and silence refill the cluttered, oppressive
space.
Clun hardened his heart and let her go. He let her walk away because, like Hercu
les, saving her was his impossible task and to succeed he must turn to stone.

Chapter 30
In which doubts assail our heroine while a grubs prayers are answered.

Christmastide was festive in most regards. In fact, consistently cold temperatur

es produced thick ice on the Serpentine ideal for skating parties. Sadly, Cluns r
ejection dulled Elizabeths enjoyment of such pleasures.
She had to admit reluctantly that her intuition about Clun might be wrong. It wo
uldnt be the first time either. After all, shed failed to make her father happy af
ter twenty years of trying. She certainly didnt relish the prospect of making ano
ther fruitless effort for the balance of her life. Perhaps, she conceded, Clun w
ould be the second man she could never please. This tiny worm of doubt burrowed
deep in her heart and left her expression wan with strain.
Constance remarked upon this alteration and suggested, or rather insisted, Eliza
beth accompany her to Hyde Park for a skating party. Thus, on Christmas Eve, Vis
count Speare and his friends provided carriages, rolls of warm, wool blankets, b
askets filled with food, sweetmeats and insulated jugs of mulled wine and hot to

ddies to fortify the skaters while Constance, Lady Jane and Lady Iphigenia broug
ht extra skating blades and their pretty friends.
The young ladies wore their warmest flannel petticoats, woolen gowns and pelisse
s, velvet bonnets, mittens and fur tippets around their necks.
Elizabeth found herself skating beside Lady Iphigenia, who burbled on and on abo
ut Lord Clun. The shy things eyes sparkled as she spoke. And Elizabeth had to ack
nowledge that when the lady giggled, she was quite fetching.
Lady Elizabeth, you are the envy of many, I must tell you. My very best wishes to
you both, Lady Iphigenia whispered. Lord Clun is most gentlemanlike. Oh, he forba
de me tell anyone, but I may speak plain with you, for you of all people know hi
s sweetness. He may put on the airs of a misanthrope, but it will no longer wash
. His true character is known and many ladies are green with envy that you compr
ehended his true nature first. Lord Holmsbury, my particular friend, is the tini
est bit jealous of my enthusiasm for your lord. I think it does one good to feel
the pinch of jealousy, dont you?
What? Oh, yes, certainly. Though theres only a pinch where theres love in the first
place, Elizabeth whispered.
Lady Iphigenia did not attend to Elizabeths last comment because Lady Jane teased
her about Lord Holmsburys absence from the party.
He has the grippe, Lady Iphigenia said to Lady Jane with a laugh, and I shall make
him sad to have missed our sport when next I see him.
The skaters drew the admiration of pedestrians and riders in the park. It was a
picturesque scene to be sure. Handsome young men in colorful, wool redingotes an
d tall beaver hats, hands clasped behind their backs, circled the ice. The young
ladies, bundled in furs and woolens, glided more cautiously in pairs and threes
omes with their hands linked. They laughing aloud for the joy of it.
One man riding by the scene brought his hired hack to a standstill and stared fi
xedly once he recognized Lady Elizabeth on the ice.
Of the young ladies in her party, she seemed oddly out of spirits, smiling only
when another turned her way. When no one looked, she was sober and her eyes down
cast. Her wind-chapped cheeks had the only healthy color in her complexion.
Mr. Wilder decided to wait nearby. Anyone not stone deaf had heard the rumors ab
out her foundering betrothal. And he wished to see if at last the strain of goss
ip and uncertainty would goad her to seek solace in a new courtship. Fate rarely
offered one such an opportunity, he thought with complacency.
He had not long to wait. The group left the ice to have hot refreshments on the
bank. Liveried footmen had their hands full, offering blankets and pouring mulle
d wine. Mr. Wilder approached Lady Elizabeth as she clambered onto the frozen ba
nk. Her skate blades hindered her so when he offered her his hand, she took it w
ithout looking.
When she did glance up, she said, Mr. Wilder, I did not see you there. Thank you.
At your service as always, Lady Elizabeth. You made a charming picture on the ice
.
Hardly. I hobbled along on my ankles, towed by others who are far more adept than
I. Still, it was refreshing to be sure.

Yet you look less than refreshed by your exercise. He gave her a meaningful look b
efore proceeding. I must speak as a friend, for I pray you consider me at least y
our friend. Mr. Wilder cast a glance about and drew her away from the others. I am
alarmed.
Alarmed, whyever for, sir?
Are you well?
Quite well.
Yet every day for these past weeks I have seen more of your vivacity fade as if y
ou suffered some malady. I beg you put my mind at ease.
I have told you, sir, I am well.
Then why is it this is the first time in too long I see a bloom in your cheeks an
d the cause of it is cold air?
Dont be ridiculous.
If I am ridiculous, its only a consequence of my concern. As each evening passes,
there is less sparkle in your eyes as if something, or dare I say someone, is we
ighing on your spirits.
Nothing disturbs my spirits, Mr. Wilder. I wish you would school your features in
to something other than dismal apprehension, I am not wasting away from disease
or low spirits, thank you. She stepped away to leave him, but he stayed her with
his hand.
The symptoms I see I would attribute to heartache. Has Clun really withdrawn from
you as Ive heard? He watched her flinch as his question hit home. The cad, I would
whip him if you asked me.
Elizabeth laughed at this absurdity, her first genuine amusement in days. Her le
vity did not amuse Mr. Wilder in the least. No, he has not, she reassured him. Clun
is ever the gentleman.
I fear he attempts to force your hand by subtler means then. Its common knowledge
the alliance has not he stopped, seeing Lady Elizabeths cross expression. Well, Id ra
ther not say.
Oh, do not hesitate to be explicit, she snapped. What is said about our betrothal b
ehind my back?
My dear, I would not hurt you for the world. Let us talk of pleasanter things, sh
all we?
No, lets not. You shall tell me what you meant to say.
Mr. Wilder looked at her. Even the cold-induced flush was fading from her cheeks
. He timed his hesitation carefully, looked deep into her guarded eyes and murmu
red, Its said the match has not prospered. There is an unmistakable aloofness on h
is part and a growing desperation on yours.
Desperation!
I meant to keep this from you, but I cannot remain a silent witness to your distr
ess, he said with a regretful air. You alone can bring your torment to an end. Clu
n seems reconciled to that eventuality, with so many ambitious mamas thrusting d

aughters at him. When I knew him, he wasnt much for the social whirl. Yet, he bas
ks in his popularity now that hes decided to marry. Always was a man of purpose.
He sets his mind to a task and sees it done. Makes him quite effective in a batt
le, and perhaps a bit heartless in a drawing room.
You know him well, Mr. Wilder? Id heard otherwise.
We were never friends, he admitted. Weve been acquainted for many years. Both of us
fought with the Blues.
Ive heard men suffer broken hearts in war. They fall in love with an exotic miss a
nd have to leave her behind on campaign.
Not Clun. Famously immune. Whilst the rest of us lost our heads in calf love with
some dark-eyed seorita, he remained unaffected. Satisfied by her increasing pallo
r, Wilder concluded sweetly, But then, one cannot expect honey from a stone, Lady
Elizabeth.
Constance came up to interrupt their tte--tte, saying, Lizzy, you look chilled to th
e bone, hurry while the drinks are hot!
Elizabeth bade Mr. Wilder good-bye and let Constance return her to their party.

Chapter 31
In which all hell breaks loose.

During the Haverford Christmas Eve ball, Elizabeth gracefully fobbed off what Cl
un referred to as her fops and fribbles with light banter. In reality, she was hea
rtsick and unsure what to do. The man she loved would not meet her gaze.
As the evening dragged on, her doubts compounded.
Elizabeth attended the ball on her fathers arm. Unfortunately, Constance and Lady
Petra had not come, so Elizabeth wasnt able to confide in her friend. She felt p
ressure building as time ran out on her betrothal. The day after Christmas, the
earl would send her to Devonshire, where she would remain until the fuss fizzled
. And Clun would be off to make merry in Shropshire.
As was often the case, Mr. Wilder hovered nearby. Again, he expressed his concer
n for her with gentle sympathy and offered his assistance as her friend unto dea
th. While their heads were together, Elizabeth spied a stormy-eyed Clun glare at
her and stalk away. He might keep his filthy looks to himself.
When next she spotted the baron, he was dancing with a petite, fair-haired girl
who was Elizabeths opposite in every way. Adding to Elizabeths misery, Lady Clun s
idled up to point out that her sons dance partner was none other than Miss Horati
a Mangold.
They make an attractive pair, Lady Clun murmured.
In fact, Elizabeth thought the two of them looked like a carnival act of freak o

pposites so extreme as to be morbidly entertaining, but she refrained from expre

ssing her opinion. While she stared, Clun led the girl off the dance floor in an
overly-solicitous manner that disgusted her. She excused herself to follow the
retreating pair.
If only shed turned to look, Elizabeth mightve seen how Lady Cluns eyes danced and
suspected mischief.
Even before Elizabeth stormed after Lord Clun, this ball promised to be the talk
of the ton for weeks to come. Lord and Lady Haverford succeeded in attracting n
umerous notables, including all Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. No one wouldve g
uessed three of the Horsemen, the Duke of Ainsworth, Mr. Percy and Lord Seelye,
only attended to keep an eye on their fourth, Lord Clun. This was the Duchess of
Ainsworths doing.
On several occasions, Her Grace overheard Lady Clun wholesaling rumors about the
end of her sons betrothal. So Prudence invoked Womans Intuition and insisted Ains
worth rally the troops to Clun who was, she predicted, in trouble.
When the duchess noticed Elizabeth and the baroness, she sensed something malici
ous afoot. While her husband and his friends muttered about how insupportable su
ch to-dos could be, Prudence caught a glimpse of Clun escorting a little blonde t
hrough a doorway with Elizabeth in pursuit. Her Grace excused herself to go to t
he withdrawing room and followed them. She overtook Elizabeth in the hallway, wh
ere she stood stiffly by a door left ajar. Before Prudence could say a word of g
reeting, Elizabeth rushed away.
The duchess peered through the gap.
Inside the room, Clun hovered over Miss Mangold, who obviously feigned illness i
n order to cling to him. The former apothecary knew perfectly well no fainting f
emale had such healthy color or so tenacious a grip.

* * *

Christmas Eve was an unmitigated disaster from Cluns perspective. He went to the
Haverford ball in the hope that Elizabeth suffered a sudden bout of amnesia, for
got his refusal and would grant him his waltz.
She remembered. And she preferred the company of Wilder and her other brainless
diddlebugs. Her being of sound mind soured his mood. Next, his mother introduced
him to the Hon. Horatia Mangold, her own candidate for the next Lady Clun, and
maneuvered him into dancing with her. This curdled his sour mood further.
It wasnt the girls fault, he reminded himself, so he did the pretty with good grac
e.
Clun soon discovered Miss Mangold was like so many females in Society. Those wel
l-born young ladies sought an advantageous connection with unemotional, single-m
inded focus. Love mattered little when a title and satisfactory income was in th
e offing. Miss Mangold was exactly the sort, in other words, that hed thought to
marry at one time. That was before Elizabeth. Now, Miss Mangold reminded him of

no one so much as his mother, which left a bad taste in his mouth to complement
his sour, curdled mood.
He danced face to face with what might have been his fate if not for unaccustome
d good fortune and Elizabeth. Hed dodged a bullet. He practically felt it whistle
past his ear as the quadrille went on. He could not sink indifferently into a t
epid, sensible marriage. Not now.
As they danced, Clun caught sight of his mother and Lady Presteigne, heads toget
her watching them avidly. Then, oddly enough, they both waved their fans at them
.
Without warning, Miss Mangold felt overcome by the heat and required immediate a
ssistance to a quiet place in which to recover. (The only females more detestabl
e than weepers, he grimaced, were fainters.) Nevertheless, he helped her down a
hallway to the first available room, an adequately lit saloon, where he intended
to deposit her on the nearest upholstered surface and find a footman to sort he
r out.
Instead, the chit took his lapels in a death grip and moaned, Please dont leave me
. I feel so weak.
He grappled as gently as he could to disentangle himself when he heard a sound t
hat sent icy shivers down his spine.
The door creaked open.
Clun felt only numbing, cold dread. Caught alone with Miss Mangold in such compr
omising circumstances, Viscount Presteigne would demand he marry the girl. Eliza
beth would throw him over in a heartbeat. All was lost. Damn, damn, damn, he rep
eated to himself. Thus, he cursed himself and his fate, without bothering to loo
k over his shoulder, until whoever-it-was spoke up in a crisp voice behind him.
Clun, is she unwell?
It couldnt be.
The fainting chit let him go in surprise when Her Grace, the Duchess of Ainswort
h, threw the door wide open and swept into the room. Ever the apothecary, she pl
unked herself down beside Miss Mangold and in her no-nonsense way offered to slap
her back to health and good sense.
At this, the fainter revived miraculously.
The duke strode in shortly after, alarmed by his wifes precipitous departure for
the withdrawing room.
Seelye and Percy jammed themselves up in the doorway, gabbling over one another,
The FuryLady PresteigneComing this way!
Leave it to his friends to add the final quelque chose to the drawing room farce
underway.
Clun, the duchess pointed out, you must take care from now on. In a few months, I w
ont fit through a doorway to come to your aid.
But I quavered Miss Mangold.
Hush dear, Prudence cautioned, or I shall administer treatment.

Lady Clun preceded the gleeful viscountess into the room with a triumphant Well,
well. Finding a crowd where she expected to find her son alone with Miss Mangold,
her eyes narrowed. What have we here?
The duke assumed the cold hauteur of his rank, drawling, Clun, would you be so ki
nd?
The baron made the introductions. The baffled viscountess dipped a curtsey with
alacrity; the Fury, not one easily subdued, curtseyed albeit stiffly.
Your daughter suffered a fainting spell. Luckily, I was here to help and she is b
etter now, are you not? The duchess asked Miss Mangold in a steely tone. The girl
nodded slowly, looking from Her Grace to her mother.
Ainsworth, Prudence said and lifted her hand, may we go? I have a last-minute erran
d that cannot wait. The duke helped her to her feet and led her from the room.
The viscountess thanked Clun awkwardly for his assistance, waved her daughter to
her side and shrugged at Lady Clun on the way out. The room soon emptied, leavi
ng Clun with his mother.
I recognize your hand in this, he said and stalked out.
She called after him in a low voice, Its too late, Clun. Shes going to cry off. She
will not have you.
Well see about that, he growled back at her.
This was another aspect of de Sayre bad luck apparently: that a man born to the
name only knew what to do about a female after the opportunity to act was lost.
Or in his case, he was blinded by enlightenment only after hed refused his hearts
desire for fear of falling short.
Finally, Clun recognized his pessimism for what it was, abject fear parading aro
und in fearsome disguise. He was a coward who hid behind gloom rather than dare
hope and have his hopes dashed to bits. Just as Elizabeth had said. The Fury wou
ld choke on her own tongue if she knew shed authored this epiphany with her unsub
tle trap.
Clun searched everywhere for Elizabeth. She had gone.
If it hadnt been well past midnight and indecently early for a morning call, Clun
wouldve instructed his coachman to drive directly to No. 1 Damogan Square. As it
was, he decided to sleep a few hours. It wouldnt do to match wits with his betro
thed when only half of his functioned.

* * *

Rather than spy on Clun embracing Miss Mangold, Elizabeth fled down the dark hal
l to the foyer where a footman called for the earls Town carriage. Mr. Wilder cam
e up and took her aside.

Dear Elizabeth, you look as though youve seen a ghost. Whats happened?
She glanced around and whispered confidentially, I must leave London but the earls
travel carriage is still in Devonshire, and it wont be here for two days.
I am at your service, he said tamping down his glee. Hiring a travel carriage and f
our in Town tomorrow will be nigh impossible. If youll allow me, I can arrange a
suitable vehicle for you and your maid at an inn on the toll road beyond Padding
ton Gate. Ill be happy to take you there myself. He smiled a reassurance to her an
d added, Dress warmly, propriety requires an open carriage.
It would be a signal service, Mr. Wilder. I will be forever in your debt.
When would you like to depart?
Elizabeth considered the things she must do after Christmas breakfast: Boxing Da
y gifts for the servants and her own packing. Will half-past-noon give us enough
time?
Indeed. I will come to Damogan
No. Await us in Sloane Street, if you please. At half-past-noon.
Till then, my dear, I wish you a happy Christmas.

Chapter 32
In which our heroine has a wary Merry Christmas.

Christmas morning, Elizabeth stared out her bedroom window at the city fog obscu
ring the street lamps and blurring the bare tree branches in Damogan Square.
Her thoughts were no clearer than the air. Cluns mother said he could not love. H
e himself said he would not love and refused to marry her even on his own terms.
Yet his kisses contradicted all his protestations.
With Washburns help, she dressed in her warmest undergarments and wool walking go
wn.
During a subdued breakfast with her father, Elizabeth gave him a rare dictionary
, The New Dictionary of the Terms Ancient and Modern of the Canting Crew, In its
Several Tribes, of Gypsies, Beggars, Thieves, Cheats, &c. published in 1699, wh
ich delighted him. She knew this because he blinked rapidly though the rest of h
is face remained immobile. In turn, the earl gave her a breathtaking fringed sha
wl of lavishly embroidered Oriental silk. He said that hed seen it in a shop wind
ow and thought she might find a use for it. Elizabeth thanked him and mentioned
her plan to call on the Travistons, adding that she would also discuss with Lady
Petra how best to end her betrothal.
Before the earl retired to his library, he said, I look forward to a quiet Christ
mas evening en famille.

I thought to go to the country early, if you have no objection, she replied.

But youll miss Mrs. Abeels Christmas plum pudding. I know youre as partial to it as
I, he said in a coaxing tone.
Elizabeth shook her head, but she could not speak.
Well, dear, do as you wish. He turned to leave the room, stopped and turned back t
o smile at her. I miss her, too, child. I will always be grateful to her for all
she gave you. Having emoted far more than customary, the earl left to recover in
his bookroom.
For the rest of the morning, Washburn and Mrs. Dawes helped Elizabeth finish pac
king the servants gift boxes for the following day. She was exceedingly generous
to household staff on behalf of the earl, putting in each maid and footmans box a
gold guinea wrapped in a new, monogrammed cotton handkerchief along with small
gifts and a bulging bag of sweetmeats they could share with family on their day
off. For upstairs maids, she tucked two coins into a new pair of York tan gloves
for Sundays. (Usually 4 shillings each at the drapers, but by buying eight pairs
at once, the salesman at Layton & Shears offered them to her for 3s/2d each.) Ne
ttles, the earls French chef and Mrs. Dawes would each receive three guineas as w
ell as special gifts.
To her ladys maid Washburn, she gave a pretty chip bonnet, matching gloves and a
length of ribbon as well as a gift box with three gold crowns, all of which Wash
burn left in her quarters rather than take with her to Devonshire.
Elizabeth walked to No. 10 Damogan Square to wish the Travistons a happy Christm
as. She found no chance to discuss anything privately with Lady Petra. There wou
ld be time enough before Twelfth Night.
When Elizabeth returned home, Nettles presented a folded note with an elaborate
blue wax seal, saying, For my lady, a footman hand-delivered this. No reply is re
quested.
I dont recognize the hand, who could it be? She stripped off her gloves, pelisse an
d bonnet and walked to the morning room window. In the weak light, she cracked t
he seal, unfolded the note and read its few lines. Without a word, she refolded
it and tucked it into a pocket in her dress.
She patted her pocket and came to a decision. If Clun intended to have the blond
e pygmy strumpet, Elizabeth would cry off. First, however, he would have to tell
her so, face to face.
Indeed, if she had to stalk the baron across England to learn the truth from his
own lips, so be it. Shed already arranged for a travel carriage to Devonshire. S
he could bribe the coachman to take her elsewhere if the price were right. No on
e, not even the baron, would expect her and her ladys maid to turn up in Shropshi
re, which made it the perfect plan to confront him.
If Clun cut up ugly, Elizabeth
shire. If, however, he did not
ate their differences once and
ed gone to the country as her

would release him on the spot and return to Devon

want the little blonde baggage, they could negoti
for all. In the meantime, everyone would think sh
father ordered.

Did she dare? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Mrs. Abeel often said.
Elizabeth would need all of her pin money for this adventure.
Twenty-five minutes past noon, Elizabeth snuck from the house with Washburn carr

ying their two small portmanteaus. Mr. Wilder awaited them in Sloane Street. He
muffled them with warm lap rugs and whisked them away in his curricle. They woul
d only be cold and cramped a short way, he explained cheerfully, because hed hire
d a bang-up travel coach for their trip from London. After thanking Mr. Wilder f
or his assistance, Elizabeth and Washburn fell quiet.
At a coaching inn not far beyond Paddington Gate, Mr. Wilder helped both women d
own from his rig and saw them into a private parlor to wait inside while he over
saw the ostler hitching the team of four to the hired carriage. He also conferre
d briefly with one of the inns grooms outside before he returned.
Were ready to depart, ladies, Mr. Wilder announced in jolly spirits.
We? Theres no need for your escort any farther, Elizabeth said. She popped another
piece of candied ginger into her mouth, thankful to Clun for the duchess advice. W
e can manage on our own from here. Thank you again.
Were heading in the same direction as far as Basingstoke, my destination, I merely
assumed Mr. Wilder also assumed a wide-eyed, innocent gaze of confusion to add im
petus to his falsehood.
Wouldnt be proper, Lady Elizabeth, Washburn murmured.
But my curricles gone, the grooms driving it back. You wouldnt strand your faithful
friend on Christmas, would you? He tilted his head and smiled.
No, of course not. Its of no consequence, Washburn, Elizabeth said.
Mr. Wilder bowed with a sweep of his tall beaver hat, Thank you, my lady. If you
wish, I can be your brother for the journey to avoid any whiff of impropriety.
Washburn had no qualms. And lyings not improper? Hmphf!
He was too pleased with the progress of his scheme to pay the snarling maid any
heed. All would be well by nightfall.
Despite Elizabeths taciturnity, the inauspicious circumstances and three being a
crowd, Mr. Wilder began to make love to the heiress before they cleared the inn
yard.
I cannot credit my good fortune to be the man youve turned to in your hour of need
, my dear, he cooed.
Elizabeth laughed, assuming he was joking. Her maid laughed much harder, perceiv
ing he was not.
Seeing theyd offended him, Elizabeth tried to smooth his ruffled feathers. Mr. Wil
der, its not my hour of need. Unless you refer to my need for transportation.
Yet, you were frantic to run away and now you are doing so with me, he said with l
ess warmth.
Im not running away with you. Im not running from anything. I am running to someone
, Elizabeth explained patiently. As I said, I appreciate your escort as far as Bas
ingstoke, but there is the end of it.
Mr. Wilder was annoyed by this, not to mention put out by the anticipated costs
of an expensive private coach and several changes of horses and drivers on Chris
tmas. Only the prospect of her dowry to defray this initial outlay eased his min
d. Even so, he began to calculate the ready required to feed three of them, enga

ge a private parlor and underwrite rooms at inns along the way to Scotland.
Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Mr. Wilder believed that spiriting her away to Gretna
Green would be as much for her benefit as for his own. He fancied himself her La
ncelot. In any event, it wasnt an abduction, not really. Shed come of her own voli
tion, with her maid. And hadnt Lady Clun already made clear to half the ton her b
etrothal was doomed? The baroness even hinted Lord Cluns interests lay elsewhere.
Lady Elizabeth faced certain humiliation if Clun contracted a new alliance befo
re she did.
Once in Scotland, Mr. Wilder concluded, she would appreciate his thoughtfulness.
Or face certain scandal.

A few hours into their journey, the afternoon sun beamed into the coach.
Let me close the shade for you, my lady, Mr. Wilder leaned to the window, attempti
ng gallantry.
Do leave it, Elizabeth replied. I like the light.
This gave her pause.
The sun came through the half light on the left. How odd.
She puzzled over this before she understood and rued the efficacy of candied gin
ger, which had eased her discomfort so well shed nodded off.
They traveled north not west. Had they been on the road to Basingstoke, the carr
iage would head toward the sun as it dropped in the sky, in which case, sunlight
would not stream through either window.
One might suppose this discovery would distress a sheltered noblewoman being con
veyed north for who-knew-what purpose. Instead, Elizabeth felt calm and extremel
y pleased with her foresight. Then again, one was so much better prepared doing
anything a second time.
Her second flight from London was considerably more comfortable than her first i
n numerous ways. For instance, Elizabeth brought Washburn along for propriety. S
he wore her own, comfortable walking dress under her warmest, kerseymere pelisse
with a sable tippet about her neck, sturdy nankeen half-boots, a sensible yet a
ttractive velvet bonnet and one of two pairs of York tan gloves. Her reticule wa
s brimming with chunks of candied ginger. She also brought with her a great deal
of money, stowed in a fastened pocket in the lining of the oversized sable fur
muff on her lap. Shed learnt her lesson about firearms, too, and had with her a h
andier little pistol than the bulky, long-barreled dueling pistol shed taken in h
aste previously. Shed kept it close at hand, tucked in her capacious fur muff.
Are we traveling north, Mr. Wilder? She asked in a blithe manner, as if merely cur
ious.
Well, yes, he answered cautiously, I wanted to demonstrate that I am in earnest abo
ut my feelings for you, even to the point of risking my own life.
Risking your life? She wondered if he knew about her pistol.
Until you cry off, Clun has made perfectly clear he will shoot anyone who dares c

ome too close to you. Defined close in absurdly broad terms, I might add. Accordin
g to him, close encompassed most of fashionable London geographically as well as e
scorting you in to supper and waltzing with you at a ball. Ever. Looked deranged
when he said it to me, hissing and spitting through clenched teeth like a Bedla
mite. So you see, I must be dashed serious to whisk you off to Gretna Green desp
ite his threats.
One might now assume her mind seized at Mr. Wilders shocking talk of Gretna Green
and all it implied. Again, no. Elizabeths train of thought derailed over somethi
ng else the cad said: that Clun had threatened to kill him. Over her. On absurdl
y slim pretexts. That was actual possessiveness, not merely the hypothetical sor
t.
She smiled broadly, which Mr. Wilder mistook for encouragement.
You will come to love me and I you, he said, still making his case. Already we are
fond of each other.
Washburn snorted and Elizabeth quelled her with a sidelong glance. You dont love m
e any more than I love you. We are friends. It will never be more, sir.
I dont believe you.
I assure you it is so, Mr. Wilder. Rather than humor him any longer, she said, Plea
se tell the coachman to stop at the next inn.
I will not, my lady, if you would only consider where you are, and what I offer.
Its much too late to avoid a scandal. I have not been discreet, shall we say, abo
ut our destination during the changes of teams. Besides, you enjoy my company, y
ouve said so yourself. I pledge to care for you. Why, havent I done all of this fo
r your sake? He gestured around at the coach. I can spare you the humiliation of b
eing unmarried when Clun arranges his next match, or havent you heard? Clun has s
ingled out another and awaits your refusal.
She shook her head, I wont believe it until
The Honorable Horatia Mangold. Heard so myself from an unimpeachable source.
Lady Clun? Ha. I have more reliable sources, Mr. Wilder, Elizabeth huffed. You will
stop this coach, sir.
No, my dearest.
No? She asked quietly, her green eyes sparking dangerously.
Unfortunately Mr. Wilder paid no attention. He leaned back against the squabs op
posite her, smiled and said, Much as it wounds me to refuse you, pet, I will not.
And much as it would wound me to wound you, Elizabeth said, withdrawing the dainty
pistol from her muff, I must insist. For emphasis, she cocked it and aimed at him
.
Is that loaded? he cried, scrambling into the farthest corner. Your fingers on the b
loody trigger! We might hit a bump. Are you mad?
No. I am a dead shot, ask Clun. Tell the coachman to rein in. Now!

Chapter 33
In which our hero misses our heroine.

Clun overslept on Christmas. Long after he intended, the baron set out to call o
n Elizabeth.
In the wake of the Haverford near-disaster, hed realized something, several thing
s actually. He enumerated them so as not to forget them in his rush to lay himse
lf bare and beg her pardon. First, he should not have spurned her proposal at Mr
. Soanes townhouse. He refused for altruistic reasons and he meant well butSecond,
he was not only a lard-witted lummox but also a selfish, lard-witted lummox, wh
o must renege on his refusal. He wanted more than anything to marry her, come wh
at may (and he still shuddered to think what may come of it). Third, he must rus
h their nuptials, that is, if she didnt want to club him over the head and leave
it at that. And fourth, if she would have, he would resolve in the future to be
less pessimistic if she would show him how.
Lord Morefields butler Nettles bowed the anxious baron into the foyer, took his l
ordships tall beaver hat, gloves and stick and put them down carefully. Clun aske
d to speak with Lady Elizabeth. The butler accepted his lordships calling card on
a sterling salver and crept at a snails pace down the hall, scratched at a door,
waited an eternity and finally disappeared. When he crept back to the foyer, he
showed Clun down the hall and into the earls library.
The earl greeted him and bade him sit by the fire. No matter how impatient Clun
was to speak with Elizabeth, he forced himself to engage in the earls jovial smal
l talk. Nettles entered once again, crept to the earls side, leaned by infinitesi
mal degrees down to whisper in his ear, slowly righted himself, turned and left
at an excruciating, glacial pace.
Thank you, Nettles. The earl tapped his fingers on the arms of his wing chair and
finally said, Lord Clun, Elizabeth is not at home. She and her maid have gone to
Devonshire. I must apologize for her absence and for her intransigence. Lady Clu
n has already expressed your understandable dismay. Youve been most patient. Rest
assured, my daughter will end the betrothal with no recriminations, just as you
wish.
As I wish? Clun reached up to pull his hair out, but Fewings had trimmed it again
for this visit. Make no mistake, Lord Morefield, I will contest any alteration to
the arrangement. It stands unless the lady herself wishes to beg off. And with t
hat he shot to his feet.
The earl regarded the agitated baron carefully. You find me at a loss.
That, my lord, is a mental state to which we who love Elizabeth must become inure
d. If youll excuse me, Ill go. Happy Christmas.
And you, Clun. I wish you the best.
On a hunch, Clun dashed from No. 1 Damogan Square and went round to the stable.
There he learned from the head groom that the earls travel carriage wasnt in use;
in fact, it wouldnt be in Town till the morrow.
She was on the run.

He threw himself on Algernon and cantered to the elegant establishment in Jermyn

Street where Lord Seelye kept rooms. Seelye himself was strolling down the pave
ment, immaculately turned out, swinging his walking stick.
Hallo, Clun, Im off to the Duke of Baths Christmas do for family and friends, Seelye
said and looked askance at his stern friend astride a fretful Algernon. How can
you be so bloody grim on this, the day of our saviors birth?
Stubble it, Seelye, I need your help.

Two days later, lounging in Whites bow window overlooking St. James Street, Seely
e entertained Percy over glasses of port with a faithful narration of what trans
pired on Christmas.
He and Clun rode neck or nothing from London only stopping at tolls and inns to
determine Lady Elizabeths direction. Just before the post road splits to go west
toward Banbury and north to Northampton, an innkeeper recalled a tall lady of qu
ality with her maid and brother taking tea at his establishment. They were on th
eir way home, so said the brother. The innkeepers description of her sibling matc
hed Wilder. Whats more, the inns ostler recalled the so-called brother telling him
with a wink they were headed for Gretna Green.
This, according to Seelye, inspired such growling and profanity from the baron,
that he feared the mans impulses would land him up on charges for murder when the
y caught Wilder.
Was it a duel? Or did Clun ride him down and run him through?
He nearly drowned Wilder, but Im not there yet, Percy, Seelye huffed. Youll ruin the
whole tale, if you make me jump ahead.
Percy waited, drumming his fingers on the club chairs arm.
Seelye resumed his narration. Now, Clun rode like a Horseman of the Apocalypse i
n truth. His greatcoat flew like the Grim Reapers own cape, his face a death mask
. He terrified everyone in his way.
Percy yawned and made an elaborate show of resting his chin in his hand.
Offended, Seelye cut to the chase.
Not two leagues farther on the north road, they came upon the Hon. Henry Wilder
in a pathetic state, cooling his muddy heels at a modest inn. His beaver hat was
battered, and he sat covered nose to rump in road dust. Most noteworthy, Wilder
sported a shiny, purplish bruise around his swollen eye and a clotted bloody no
se. When questioned, he complained bitterly that Damogan she-devil blackened the f
ormer and broke the latter in the process of stranding him by the side of the ro
ad on their way to Scotland. He also objected strenuously to being forced to wal
k, thus injured, to the nearest shelter serving decent ale, which on bloody Chri
stmas was no mean feat. The shocking assault on his person made Wilder heedless
of what he said and to whom he said it.
You know its dashed difficult to make out Cluns mood in the best of circumstances, S
eelye said. Well, at that moment, it was impossible to know what Clun would do, w
hat with Wilders attempted abduction and his bacon-brained complaints. Seelye shoo

k his head and took a sip of port, leaving Percy perched on the edge of his chai
r.
Damn it, Seelye, what in blazes happened next?
Oh. Right. Clun was so amused, he forgot all about killing him. Ordered a tankard
of ale instead.
No, said his dumbstruck friend.
Gods truth, I swear! Seelye said.
But that was not the end of it. Seelye went on to explain that Wilder wailed abo
ut how Lady Elizabeth punched him in the face and chucked him from the carriage
he had hired. Then, feeling the full force of his abuse afresh, Wilder whined ev
en louder that shed used her foot on him. Kicked him right out the blasted coach
door. And threw his kit at him with such energy, she broke his nose. Then, she f
orced the coachman at gunpoint to drive off without him.
Thats when Clun nearly drowned Wilder in ale. Spat in his face, he laughed so hard
. Didnt mean to, Wilder caught him off guard, mid-swallow.
So, he survived.
Even that was not the end of it, said Seelye. Being a gentleman, Clun gave Wilder h
is linen pocket square and told him he was lucky to be alive. To which the stupi
d prattlebox blurted out, So she said herself! A dead shot, said she. Ask Clun, s
aid she, waving a loaded pistol under my nose all the while. You are welcome to
that nasty, headstrong handful, Clun, but youd be a fool to take her at any price
.
And?
Clun took exception to that last bit and punched Wilders good eye, Seelye concluded
. And took back his pocket square to wipe his fist dry.
Percy cried laughing now, By Jove, Id give anything to have seen that.
Seelye briefly recounted how he kept Clun from finishing the fool off with his b
are hands by reminding him of the season, goodwill toward men and what not. In t
hat spirit, he even prevailed upon the baron to front the blunt needed for the s
apheads coach fare back to London, but only after Wilder pledged his silence on p
ain of death.
At Cluns request, Seelye returned to Town to see if Elizabeth turned up at home.
And Clun set out from there, intending to track the wayward coach himself, in ca
se she thought of fleeing to some out-of-the-way corner and hiding.
Heard from Clun since? Percy asked.
Not a word. The ladys not in London either.
If Cluns found her, shell be fine, Percy said. Probably escorted her to the earls plac
e in Devonshire.
If he didnt strangle her, Seelye observed.
She had a gun, didnt she? Percy inquired.
Mmm.

That should help.

Chapter 34
In which our heroine thinks twice for once in her life.

Elizabeth and her maid left Mr. Wilders hired coach in Banbury, paying the driver
an extortionate amount to return to London and forget everything hed heard, seen
and done. Though it was Christmas, the town bustled. At the inn where mail coac
hes stopped, the lady and her maid learned theyd only have to wait two hours for
the next coach going to Worcester then on to Shropshire. Elizabeth bought two in
side tickets to Ludlow.
In the meantime, Washburn remonstrated with her mistress, Why on earth do we go t
o Ludlow, my lady?
I was invited to a house party in Shropshire at the last minute and since were her
e I thought to go on.
But I havent packed for a house party, Washburn said in a panic. We must go to Devon
shire first
Washburn, I dont want to be late. We wont stay long.
The outbound mail coach trundled into town a few hours later and they were off.
Traveling by mail coach spared them the price of a room overnight and even with
candied ginger, Elizabeth had no appetite so she also saved half the cost of mea
ls, too.
In Ludlow the following afternoon, Elizabeth remained vague about their destinat
ion, saying only they were going to The Graces. Sensing trouble, Washburn argued
that they ought to send a note by messenger to have a carriage come collect the
m.
No need for that, Washburn, Elizabeth said, spying Mr. Madog the dairyman driving
his dray slowly down Ludlows main thoroughfare.
Washburn goggled as her mistress called out and waved him to a halt. Elizabeth w
ished him a belated happy Christmas and learned he was returning to Clun village
. She offered him the last of her money to carry them to The Graces southern boun
dary. This he refused, taking them up for company instead. Washburns shock contin
ued unabated as her mistress chatted merrily about cheese with the man for the e
ntire trip.
During a lull in the conversation, Washburn pleaded in a whisper that they must
stay in the village. Overhearing this, Mr. Madog offered to take them to the Col
unwy Inn on the town square. Elizabeth insisted he let them off by the roadside
near The Sundew, because she wished to walk in the fresh air. (This reconfirmed
Mr. Madogs opinion that she was a thoroughly pixilated young lady.)
Thus it was late the day after Christmas that Elizabeth and her grumbling ladys m

aid trudged to the little thatched woodsmans cottage.

Washburn refused to consider it, declaring, Lord Morefield would have my head on
a spike if I let you stay a single night in such a place. Youll catch your death.
And who are these friends who wont come fetch you by carriage? No, Ill see you ba
ck to the village, my lady, to a proper inn. With that, the maid plunked herself
down on the bench outside the door and refused to budge.
Winter days were short. And the sun hung low in the sky as Elizabeth debated whe
re to stay the night. On the one hand, coming to Shropshire was a brilliant stra
tegy for cornering Clun where he least expected it. Though staying in the villag
e and sending word ahead would eliminate the element of surprise. On the other h
and, she wasnt certain of their welcome if she and her maid showed up at his door
like orphans in a storm.
Perhaps it would be best to stay at the thatched cottage despite Washburns object
ions. Once night fell, her maid would come inside, mice or no.
Elizabeth slipped into the dark cottage. A fresh coat of lime brightened the wal
ls and covered the soot marks from the smoky hearth. Her improvised straw pallet
was gone and in its place stood a comfortable bedstead with enough room for two
, if they were willing to sleep close. Next to it was a simple stand and on it,
a candlestick holder and a pyramid of beeswax candles ready for use. The beds bar
e mattress looked new. The rough table stood in its same place. New stoneware pl
ates, mugs and utensils lay stacked on it.
Someone lived there now. She walked out and carefully latched the door behind he
r.
Let me consider our options for a moment, she said to the empty bench.
My lady! cried Washburn, kneeling by the stacked firewood.
Elizabeth approached. What is it? Is your arm stuck?
I saw something gold flash in there. A half guinea, mayhap. Itd help pay for our r
oom in the village and meals.
Let me try.
No, my lady. Youll get yourself filthy.
But my arm is longer than yours, Washburn. She handed her fur muff and bonnet to h
er maid, who reluctantly made way.
Elizabeth spotted the glint, crouched low and leaned fully against the woodpile
without regard for her pelisse or dress. She stretched her long arm toward the f
licker in the last light. She felt nothing. Her glove dulled her sense of touch.
Impatiently, she leaned back and snatched it off before trying again. With her
bare hand, she felt through the cold, oozy, fungal mulch, and with one last stra
ining reach, she touched the cool surface of something metal. With her cheek pre
ssed hard against the rough wood, she scrabbled for it in the muck even as she f
elt a sharp cramp twinge in her neck. She hooked her fingers around it and clutc
hed it tight before drawing out her fist. Under no circumstances would she grope
around for it a second time. When she opened her hand, she found a dirty, heavy
gold signet ring. Norman gold.
Elizabeth wiped the ring carefully with her linen handkerchief and handed it to
her maid to hold while she slipped off her locket necklace. She strung the ring
on its chain, slipped the necklace back over her head and let it fall inside the

high neckline of her wool gown. The cold ring hung heavy on the chain and warme
d, safely tucked between her breasts.
Its a sign, Washburn, she said. We go to The Graces.
Oh, my lady, no, Washburn pleaded. You cannot. You must not. Best we go to an inn a
nd send word.
Elizabeth straightened to her full height. Washburn, I have not been entirely can
did with you. I am going uninvited to the house of an unmarried man. He is my be
trothed but, as you and I both know, it is highly irregular for me to do so. Per
haps it was wrong of me to bring you along and put you in this position.
Washburn interrupted, No, my lady, it was only right and proper I come with you.
But I am going, Elizabeth asserted, and if you cannot in good conscience and in goo
d cheer come with me, I understand. From now on, I will tolerate no more reproac
hes. You may have what money is left. I will see you to the village inn from whe
nce you may return to London. I promise you an excellent character, so you may f
ind more suitable employment. Ive appreciated your loyalty, good sense and years
of service, Washburn, but I am going to The Graces with or without you. I must,
and no one will gainsay me over stupid proprieties. Is that clear? I may come to
regret this decision, but I have made it.
Washburns eyes grew wide as saucers throughout Elizabeths ultimatum.
I have shocked you, Elizabeth said.
You have, my lady. Just now, it was as if I was hearing Mrs. Abeel herself, she sa
id, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Shed be so proud. The maid looked around. Well,
off we go, then. Times a-wasting. She took up their portmanteaus and squared her s
houlders. How far is it?
Elizabeth led Washburn up the footpath through the meadow, over the rise and onw
ard to the stately house. After trudging through the last rays of sunset, they f
inally passed silently through the Triumphal Entry and found the main hall empty
, its windows darker than the twilit sky. No one answered when Elizabeth let the
brass knocker fall. The sound echoed in the empty hall within.
Clun must be at the castle. It would make sense hed celebrate the New Year at his
principal seat. Yet, the Graces wouldnt be left completely empty. Elizabeth felt
a bubble of panic rise in her empty stomach. Where were the servants?
The evening sky was a dark cobalt blue, the air biting cold. They trudged throug
h the south archway.
Please, she closed her eyes, prayed and walked out of the passage. Elizabeth cra
cked one eye and exhaled a wispy cloud of breath. Windows blazed bright on the g
round floor at the back of the main hall.
Ted intercepted them. Evening, my lady. The surprised lad made a jerky bow.
Hello, Ted, where is everyone?
Most everybodys away at the castle for the baron. Only Cook, Papa and a few maids
stayed behind.
Lord Clun is at the castle?
No, maam, the baffled boy said. His lordships in London. May I? Ted took up their bags

from Washburn and struggled with them to the vestibule door. Peering through a
window, Elizabeth saw Cook slicing dried fruit for the King Cake. With a few tap
s of his small boot, Ted brought a maid bustling over to let them in.
Cook took one look at the weary, debris-dusted lady and hugged Elizabeth. The ma
id led Washburn off to help her settle in.
Folded into Cooks arms, Elizabeth accepted the older womans welcome with gusts of
silent sobs. Cook held her a moment longer before peeling off her soiled gloves
and chaffing her cold hands between her warm, callused ones. Ted stood beside Ty
ler Rodwell, who sat at the big central table. Both watched without a word, but
they didnt escape Cooks notice. She shooed them away to go somewhere and make yours
elves useful.
Cooks instincts were excellent. Elizabeth needed a good, long cry without any onl
ookers who reminded her of the absent lord. After their departure, everything sp
illed from her eyes as Cook patted her back and held her close. Elizabeth calmed
after the worst passed and sat down at the empty table.
Theres one thing for it, my lady, Cook said and leaned closer to whisper, Marry the
man.
Youre not the first to say so but he wont have me. Ive been stupid and nave. He tried
to tell me. I wouldnt listen. Now, Ive ruined everything by expecting too much.
Cook poured milk into a copper pan and stirred the coals in the stove to warm it
.
That may be. Or it may be thats what he needs, Cook told her. Its like to break my he
art thinking on his early years. Cook looked over her shoulder at Elizabeth and s
hook her head. Poor Master William. I say ladle love over him thick as gravy whet
her he wants it or not. Believe you me, hell pretend he doesnt want it. Tis rubbish
. Everyone needs love. Especially him.
Hes told me he doesnt.
Says he, Cook scoffed. Thats because he never expects love for himself or even think
s to ask for it. Hows he supposed to know what to do when its offered to him?
It cant be as simple as that, Elizabeth whispered.
And why not?
Later, Roddy insisted Elizabeth stay in the Gold bedchamber though she argued fo
r sleeping in a guest room because it would be less bother. He only prevailed by
insisting no one expected the baron any time soon and observing it would cause
less talk below stairs. So with Washburns help, she settled into the Gold bedcham
ber.
Your barons not here, my lady, and hes not expected. What now? Her ladys maid asked.
Honestly, Washburn, Im not sure. In the meantime, Im determined that we not impose
on Cluns staff. I plan to pitch in. Will you help?
Wouldnt mind at all. Another unplanned holiday, you might say, Washburn said slyly.
Thats the spirit.

The next day, Washburn didnt make a peep when Elizabeth made her own bed (badly),
fetched her own water for the basin (adequately) and threw herself into prepara
tions for the New Years frumenty supper (joyously). By doing so, she earned every
ones gratitude and affection. Unlike snobbish London servants who grew sniffy abo
ut encroachments on their sphere and the Quality forgetting themselves, Cluns sta
ff appreciated Elizabeths good-humored flexibility under unusual circumstances.
Elizabeth settled into the homey routine of the big kitchen. She was happy to he
lp. In fact, she was happy, plain and simple. Cook regaled her with hilarious an
d sometimes heartbreaking stories about her wee Master William. And the chatter-fi
lled bustle in that big room reminded Elizabeth of growing up, watching Mrs. Abe
el take command of the kitchen in her imperious way to make scones or oversee th
e Christmas plum pudding preparation, all the while regaling Elizabeth with tale
s of high seas adventure.
All was comfort and joy until his lordship turned up unexpectedly that evening.

Chapter 35
In which our hero tracks his betrothed to the last place on earth he expected to
find her.

The baron learned that Elizabeth and her maid travelled from Banbury by mail coa
ch to Worcester. He, however, was forced to rest Algernon overnight because he p
referred to ride a horse he trusted rather than hire hacks with unknown stamina.
His Long Meg was easy enough to trace northwestward even though he fell a day b
ehind.
Two days after Christmas, the weather was decidedly wintry and sleeting intermit
tently when he reached Ludlow, where the fugitives had been sighted the previous
afternoon. Cluns spirits rose even as the temperature fell. He told himself it w
as nothing more than the sight of doors and windows festooned with the seasons gr
eenery.
But it wasnt just.
To end their argument at Mr. Soanes townhouse, hed told Elizabeth he was going to
Shropshire. Surely, The Graces was not her destination Yet, shed bypassed Devonsh
ire, sped through Worcester and Ludlow and might as well be headed there as anyw
here.
He might have known.
Hed told her no and she wasnt having it. Being the strong-willed female she was, E
lizabeth wouldnt let any man naysay her. Not even him. Clun chuckled again at her
would-be abductor left in a bruised heap by the road. She was more than a match
for any man.
Then it struck him. His stupidity, that is.

Why in Gods name had he worried about making her miserable, or making her anythin
g else she didnt want to be? Shed never stand for it. He had ample proof she could
take care of herself. She could certainly sort out a bad-tempered lummox when s
orting was called for. And chuck him from a coach, if need be. Unlike his mother
, Elizabeth hadnt the temperament to play martyr-to-love. If he disappointed her,
shed stand up to him, arms akimbo, and face him down.
He laughed because he knew it was true. A weight lifted from his heart.
Granted, he fell short of her romantic ideal, still he would do his best. Perhap
s that would be enough his heart, such as it was, and an honest effort. He spurr
ed Algernon on, impatient to find her and ask.

Outside Ludlow, he rode by the most direct route cross-country to The Graces wit
h the sky full of snow. When at last he reached his country house, his broad-bri
mmed hat and caped greatcoat were heaped with it.
Clun rode directly to the stable and dismounted. Ted appeared out of nowhere.
Happy Christmas! Ted dropped his currycomb and raced up to the tall man covered in
wet snow. Come see Tacitus, will you?
Clun let himself be led by the hand to a stall where Tacitus, Teds new pony, snuf
fled at his hay. What a handsome fellow, Ted. And big.
Hes thirteen hands at the withers and I exercise him and feed him and curry him ev
ery day, the boy chanted.
I fear, youll make Algernon jealous.
Never say! Ted exclaimed with pride.
Hows your new tutor, lad? Learning your Latin?
I hate Latin.
Take it like a man, Ted, your father and I did. Clun laughed at the boys familiar s
cowl. Fetch a groom to see to Algernon, will you?
Before Ted did as he was told, he turned back to the baron to say, Im glad youve co
me, were bound to have a jolly New Year with you and your lady here.
Cluns heart pounded as he walked to the kitchen vestibule door and let himself in
.
Looking through the inner door, he saw the ladys maid from Soanes place at the sto
ve taking up a kettle. At the big table, his fiance played a merry tune on a horn
pipe while Roddy swung Cook around. A few other servants clapped time or danced
with each other. Watching them dance and Elizabeth try to play while laughing, h
e hesitated. The party would stop when he walked in.
Once he opened the inner door, he would know if she was glad to see him or not.
Reason argued she had come for happy purpose; Pessimism whispered like Othellos I
ago, that there were always unhappy possibilities to consider. One look from her
could fill his heart or break it. He considered a quiet retreat into the dark n
ight to postpone the inevitable.

Just then, Cook spied Clun hovering half in, half out of the vestibule, and call
ed out, Good evening, your lordship. You look half frozen. Let Miss Washburn pour
you a cup of tea.
Roddy and the servants fell silent. Elizabeth watched him come in without a blin
k or a smile.
Something broke and crumbled inside him. Through the breach, doubts flooded his
heart like a storm tide. He felt his eyes burn. Hed be damned if he stood around
gawking at her because he didnt know what to say or where to begin. He wouldnt spo
il their festivities. He was wet through and cold. And exhausted. That was more
than enough to cope with after his long, hard ride.
Good evening, Clun said formally to the room in general, Pray, dont let me interrupt
. Carry on, everyone.
He touched the brim of his snowy hat to Elizabeth and strode past the table to e
xit down the passage to the servants stairs. Upstairs, he marched down the dark,
echoing hall, throwing his wet greatcoat over the staircase newel post, tossing
his sodden hat and gloves on a chair. He reached his bookroom and flung the door
open but rather than give vent to his frustration and slam it shut, he let it c
lick quietly.
With numb hands, Clun fumbled in the tinderbox for flint and steel and tried to
light kindling in the fireplace. He swore and struck again and again till finall
y a spark caught. He threw in coal chunks and watched the licking flames mellow
into a silent red glow. The modest warmth was welcome relief. He stripped off hi
s redingote and tossed it aside. His eyes watered with the pain of thawing. Or s
o he told himself.
Sometime later, a quiet knock at the door echoed in the emptiness.
Come join us, Will, Roddy said on the other side of the closed door.
I prefer a light tea here. Ill speak to you in the morning, Roddy. Thank you.
There was a long silence.
As you wish. Footsteps faded as his half-brother walked away.
The baron watched the coals glow in the grate.
Funny how fate designs ones lessons. When one finally understands, its too late.
He sprawled on a settee, unbuttoned his dank wool waistcoat, loosened his limp c
ravat and fell asleep, worn out by days of pointless pursuit.

* * *

Elizabeth tried the knob of the library door. He hadnt locked it. She quietly pus
hed it open, picked up the tea tray she volunteered to bring him and went in. Sh

e set it down on the table before the sofa quietly. He lay asleep facing a glowi
ng hearth in shadowy solitude. It wasnt right that he sequestered himself in a co
ol, dark room to avoid her while the people he loved politely kept her company i
n the warm, bright kitchen downstairs.
Having seen his forbidding expression when first he saw her, she knew she and Wa
shburn must leave in the morning. With Roddys help and a few borrowed guineas, th
ey could go to the village and await a stagecoach to Devonshire. Despite what th
e Christmas morning note revealed, Elizabeth misjudged the situation. Neverthele
ss, she would speak to him.
He stirred. Bess.
His pet name for her. He looked every bit as formidable as he had in the kitchen
, still she took heart. She stood up straight and clasped her hands before her.
Here is your tea, Clun. Cook added some cold chicken, cheese and bread, a glass o
f ale and some sweetmeats. Cook wedged even more onto the tray, but Elizabeth cou
ldnt name everything, lest her voice crack.
You neednt stay, Ill serve myself. No one can dance without your hornpipe.
Theyll manage, I daresay. She ignored his dismissal and, with heart rapping against
her stays, she sat in a chair opposite him to pour tea as if hed invited her. I l
aughed into it more than played it. I am far more proficient than you heard. His
expression looked slightly less grim when she peeked at him. Perhaps he would le
t her linger.
No cream, he said.
Though she held the teapot in her hand, she looked at him, confused at his non s
equitur. Finally, she recollected. Oh, of course, she said and sloshed him a cup o
f tea.
Biting her lip, she set the teapot down, lifted the dripping cup from its saucer
, poured the tea from the saucer into the cup and replaced the cup, something no
lady should ever do.
Forgive me.
He rumbled.
She quelled him with a tart It slipped.
He snorted.
Next, she picked up a tiny pair of sterling tongs, willing her fingers to stay s
teady. Sugar?
A small lump, please.
She plucked a piece of cut sugar from the bowl with the tongs.
Speaking of lumps, he said, I bumped into your Mr. Wilder on Christmas.
Oh? She twitched the tongs and, with a mortifying tic-tic-tictictictic, the piece
of sugar skittered across the hardwood floor somewhere.
She ignored his sniggering, pinched another lump and plopped it into his cup. Sh
e avoided his gaze when she handed it to him and said, Did you?

I just said I did, my lady. Poor Wilder had quite a mishap. He sipped his tea and
watched her over the cups rim. With two black eyes to show for it.
Two? I only hit him Clun lowered his cup and waited. Once, she finished, feeling her
cheeks heat.
Mmm. Had I known you were so handy with your fives, Id have thought twice about ma
rrying you.
His teasing emboldened her.
That man badly needed some of the home brewed, Clun, she stated calmly. He provoked
me.
I dont doubt he did. Im only thankful you havent uncorked my claret. I can be quite
provoking, too.
Yes, but I like you.
Only like me? He no longer teased.
Since he asked in earnest, she decided to answer in kind. According to Her Grace,
the Duchess of Ainsworth, I must do something about you, Clun. She removed the f
olded note from the pocket where she kept it, She writes, Merry Christmas Elizabet
h, I have saved Clun from the clutches of a clingy, blonde baggage and he is saf
e for now. You must do something about him immediately. Her Grace underscored do s
omething several times, I should add. She closes her note, A happy New Year to you
both, Prudence, etc. Elizabeth refolded the note and tucked it away.
What do you propose to do about me?
I dont know, Clun. I cannot help how I feel. I have attempted the alternative, but
I can only love you as I do, with all my heart. She said. His watchful expressio
n revealed nothing. I understand and accept the usefulness of loving less, or not
at all as you intend. I cannot manage it, Im sorry.
She stood up.
No, please, dont go. He reached out to her and drew her around the table to sit bes
ide him. You were right, you and your accursed oracle Mrs. Abeel may she rest in
peace and leave me be.
Elizabeth stared at their interlaced fingers.
I love you, he said. I never intended to, and did my best not to, but there you hav
e it. Theres nothing sensible or even rational about it. I love you much more tha
n is wise. In fact, Ive been, here he groaned like a condemned man, besotted from t
he outset.
Besotted? Why didnt you say?
Id hoped to recover from it, he grumbled. Apparently, its chronic.
But when we met I was a fright. And a poacher.

* * *

Why in Gods name must a woman fasten onto one bit at the beginning of a mans senti
mental declaration and leave him wondering if any of the rest penetrated her awa
reness? Clun turned to scowl at her and found her shy smile.
Ah, success!
He stood and brought her to her feet.
Not a fright, Bess, an Amazon. A beautiful Valkyrie. And strictly speaking, it wa
snt poaching because we were betrothed.
She frowned at having her own sauciness quoted back. Arent you amusing.
He laughed and held her close. Arent I just!
So you do love me, she returned his embrace.
I do, though youll probably come to regret it.
Before he bent to kiss her, she stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his first.
Her kiss landed slightly off center. With minor adjustments, she found his mouth
and began a thorough ravishing. All he could do was stand there and try to keep
his legs under him while she pressed her soft, warm self against him and made h
is heart bounce in his rib cage.
When she allowed him to catch his breath, he asked, Well?
Well what, my lord? She whispered up at him.
Are you going to propose again? Or would you rather I feel cheap and ill-used for
letting you maul me this way?
Must I?
I could make an ugly fuss if you try to cry off, I suppose.
So you leave me no choice.
None whatsoever.
Very well. She composed herself, looked him in the eye and said, Will you marry me?
He blinked at her. And frowned. That is your best effort? He let his hands drop fr
om her waist and huffed, Ive heard Cook ask the butcher for a beef roast with more
fervor. Ive a mind to thank you for the honor you do me and turn you down flat.
Clun, I restrained myself out of consideration for your sensibilities, she replied
reasonably.
Oh, no no no! He crossed his big arms and said, Dont hold back on my account. By all
means, leave me weak-kneed and breathless.
She considered him before saying, I am equal to the challenge, although its better
to show than tell, or so Ive heard.

Mrs. Abeel?
She smiled broadly.
Right. Show me, he said, his mind racing with myriad possibilities. Yet he knew sh
e would somehow surprise him in any case.
First, a bed, my lord. She worked loose his crossed arms and led him by the hand o
ut of the library, Or perhaps a bearskin rug will do.
Little savage, how am I to manage you?
She turned and exclaimed, Wasnt that my worry from the beginning? That poor old Lo
rd Clun might not be equal to the task of taking me in hand?
I most certainly am. And with that, he caught her around the waist and tossed her
over his shoulder. He steadied her on her perch with a hand on her bottom. A bed,
you say?
Clun, put me down, she squeezed out as he climbed the stairs to the second floor.
Shhh, Bess, youre squawking.
I cant breathe this way, sir. She struggled ineffectually.
No kicking or poor, decrepit Lord Clun is liable to drop you. What with his chilb
lains and all.
She hung limp for only a moment then swatted his rump. Hard.
Thats only exciting me, he sang.
She squawked some more, but he was laughing too hard to hear what she squawked.
Outside his bedchamber, he let her down gently and opened the door. She got no f
arther because he swept her up again. This time, he cradled her in his arms and
bore her over the threshold. A crackling fire burned in the hearth and warmed th
e room.
Oh, Clun, you do have potential.
Im relieved to hear it, he said gruffly.
She flung her arms about his neck and kissed him. Mid-kiss, she opened her eyes
to peek at him. Hed closed his just in time. She landed soft pecks on his eyelids
and longer, deeper kisses on his smiling mouth. Then she kissed him as he had k
issed her at the opera. Thoroughly. She teased open his lips with her tongue. He
sucked on its tip and let her explore. She slid from his arms and he undid her
buttons, hooks, laces and ties so deftly she was divested of her garments in one
, long, warm, intimate kiss.
In turn, she pushed off his waistcoat, unwound his stock, and started on the shi
rt buttons at his throat. His breath caught as she tugged the shirttail from his
breeches.
He caught up her hands and pressed them against his arousal. This is your doing,
Bess. I can barely contain myself.
So I noticed. Frequently.

I am shocked and scandalized, he quipped. Rather, he was thrilled, and relieved, a

nd eager for her. He shucked off the rest of his clothes with all speed. At long
last, they were naked, and he wasnt dreaming.
Clun purred.

* * *

No classical statuary, friezes or kraters compared to her Hercules in the flesh.

But Clun gave her no time to study him as she would have liked. He flung back t
he counterpane, laid her on the bed and eased himself beside her.
She looked into his fathomless eyes and asked, May I watch this time, Clun?
By all means. I intend to,
, stroked languidly over her
tingling from her shoulders
his way to her breasts. And

he said with a throaty laugh. His hand, so big and warm

body in long, leisurely sweeps that left tiny hairs
to her thighs. He kissed her neck and slowly kissed
stopped.

By God, Bess, what is this?

What? She asked, aroused and impatient.
He tugged on her necklace until the ring swung into view.
Washburn noticed it and I had long enough arms. It was meant to be found.
Just as you predicted.
I am optimistic.
And Im most fortunate you are.
He untangled the necklace from her hair, lifted it over her head and set it all
on the bedside cabinet.
I wonder what else I might find if I look hard enough, he murmured. She giggled as
he explored the crease beneath her breast, licking up to its tender peak and te
asing it mercilessly before sucking it between his lips. The sensation rippled t
hrough her as if there were a strand of nerves connecting her nipple to her sex.
His teasing above created an answering, aching pulse between her legs. When he
kissed his way lower still, the ache grew. His fingers caressed and explored her
. And with a happy sigh, he followed his hands between her legs and pressed his
mouth there, intent on tasting her. She writhed and cried out with the pleasure
he gave her. He settled in and held her open to his hungry tongue, lapping at he
r, till she dissolved into the sensation of it.
His eyes never left her and he seemed intent on pleasuring her all night to driv
e her mad with desire.
I want you, Clun, I want you, she gasped, I need you.

Only then did he relent. He lifted himself to settle hard and heavy between her
legs. He pressed himself against her till she moaned and begged.
Clun! She cried in consternation and ecstasy.
Im here, love.
Please, she exclaimed and clawed at his back to underscore her point. Now.
There was a pinch of pain when he entered her. She was too swept up in the onrus
h of sensations to notice.
Oh, Bess, he sighed, Bess.
She gasped, too, as he bore down, deeper and deeper, till his pelvis ground agai
nst her. Once inside her, he stilled. She felt him throb as if his heart now bea
t within her. He took her in a rhythm that accelerated something carnal and volu
ptuous in her. In response, she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. Still, it w
as not close enough. She wrapped her long legs around him and held on for dear l
ife and for the sheer, inexpressible ecstasy of their joining. He kissed her nec
k and throat as he thrust slow and deep. She gripped his buttocks and he growled
as she urged him deeper, faster still.
Mrs. Abeel had explained the act so Elizabeth wasnt tense her first time, despite
her innocence. But the profound connection she felt in Cluns embrace was overwhe
lming, its power frightening. He surged into her and receded again and again. An
d she let him sweep her up and away. Off she floated, clinging to him, holding h
im deep within her. Sweaty and panting, both cried out with relief when her tens
ion finally exploded and ebbed away in lingering pulses. Not long after he, too,
found his release.
After the maelstrom, he lay next to her, holding her close. She nestled into his
warmth, tired yet more alive than ever before.
Are you exhausted, poor old Lord Clun? She stroked his heaving chest as he lay on
his back, an arm flung overhead.
Dare I admit it? He replied. And you?
No, I am over stimulated. She toyed with his closest nipple. It was the tiniest bu
tton on a broad, sweaty slab of muscle. Just below his ribs she found a silvery
puckered scar the diameter of a shilling.
Whats this? She touched the scar.
I was shot once and twice blessed.
Blessed to be shot?
No. Blessed that it missed my lung, and that I dont remember a thing. Seelye broug
ht me back behind our lines somehow.
Youre much larger than he, howd he manage it?
Wont say. Told me Id disapprove his methods.
How could you disapprove?
If he says I would, I know not to ask.

She hummed and caressed him until another thought occurred to her, Why is adulter
y called criminal conversation?
Its a euphemism, Bess.
Well, obviously, she snorted. But talking would only distract from the experience,
which is
Hmm? He smiled.
Unforgettable, she sighed. But there should be a better term.
He fell silent for a time. Ill joy, he suggested at last. Illicit joinery.
Thats carpentry, Clun, I think not.
Then I leave it to you, he whispered sleepily.
But I welcome your opinion.
In which case, its my opinion we marry with all speed. In London, he whispered into
her ear. Everyone here, except Roddy and Cook, thinks were married. Id rather not
upset the staff. As for a better term for adultery, itll never apply unless you p
lan to cuckold me.
Dont be silly, she said, soothed by the rumbling good humor of the big, warm, whims
ical man beside her. She slung her arm across his broad chest. Ive grown rather fo
nd of dear, old, decrepit Lord Clun.
You have my sympathy, he whispered and kissed her forehead. I am a trial.

* * *

Waking first the next morning, Clun leaned over Elizabeth as she lay gloriously
naked in his bed. Her hair tumbled over the pillows and she still glowed from th
eir lovemaking. He could happily hover like a moth and watch her for hours. It w
as a trite simile to be sure but no less true. He couldnt resist her.
Clun finally pulled himself from their bed, dressed and hurried to the kitchen t
o have bath water heated. He, Roddy and the handful of servants in residence soo
n hauled up enough hot water to the barons suite to fill a large tub for her.
Elizabeth burrowed shyly under the eiderdown to hide among the rumpled sheets sm
elling of lavender and their lovemaking.
Your bath awaits, my lady, Clun whispered to her when they were alone.

Chapter 36
In which the cats play while the mice are away.

As tired and sore as she was, Elizabeth never felt more cherished than when Clun
emptied the last copper of steaming water into the tub and came for her. He rol
led up his sleeves, threw back the covers and lifted her from the rumpled bed as
if she were a wisp (which she wasnt). After he settled her into the hot, scented
water, he lathered a bar of soap in his hands. She sighed for as long as she ha
d breath when he began to bathe her.
Had she not known it to be a physical impossibility, shed have sworn his ministra
tions reduced her bones to aspic.
What she liked best, though, was his concentration. He focused all his attention
on her. He gazed in wonder everywhere his big hands touched her as he bent to h
is task. He soaped her shoulders and breasts, taking excessive care with her nip
ples till she giggled and swatted his hands away. He stroked lower to her belly
and teased at her navel. Lower still, he stroked gently between her legs and sen
t renewed waves of desire pulsing through her. She moaned and held his hand stil
l against her. He looked up at her, worried.
Oh, Clun, she sighed.
What? Did I hurt you?
No.
He bowed his head and murmured, Perhaps I was over-enthusiastic last night. He bec
ame engrossed with washing her arm, caressing it in a firm, soothing, soapy grip
from shoulder to fingertips. It was your first time, I shouldve been gentler.
She shook her head no and pulled his face to hers for a kiss.
Mistaking her denial for forbearance, he said, Ill do better next time, Bess.
Heaven help me if you do, she moaned and sank nose deep in the bathwater. She blin
ked at him, the corners of her smile just above the waters surface.
It was as if the heavens opened and lit his face. Clun smiled back at her in a w
ay shed never seen. Before her eyes, happiness settled over him. She saw it relax
his features. It softened his lips into a teasing, boyish half-smile and deepen
ed his solitary dimple. And it warmed his dark eyes as he held her gaze. She fel
t inordinately proud of herself for having inspired that grin.

* * *

With most of the staff in Wales packing up the baroness personal effects for remo

val to the Ludlow dower house, Clun and Elizabeth were left almost completely on
their own at The Graces. They wore two of his shawl-collared dressing gowns all
day hers engulfed her but she loved the scent of him next to her skin. They pla
yed catch-me, catch-me and kiss-chase in the unpopulated rooms and echoing corri
dors. While at play, they thundered up and down stairs and through communicating
rooms, laughing so hard the captured could not kiss properly when caught. They
ran in bare feet chortling and roaring like manic children escaped from their do
ur nanny. They did, that is, when they managed to venture from the vast, rumpled
baronial bedstead.
Before the New Year, Clun managed to take care of some estate business. He sent
a formal letter to commission Sir Thomas Lawrence for a portrait and sent word t
o Fewings in London by express courier telling him to warn the baroness something
was afoot at the castle to bring her bustling back.
It was time he faced the Fury.
Venturing into the study that afternoon, his lady proposed a game of hide-and-se
ek. The lord of the manor agreed, provided the seeker earned a boon upon finding
the hider. To this, the lady agreed with some misgivings. The lord of the manor
also graciously volunteered to seek first and began counting rapidly to 50 with
out further warning.
His lady squealed in outrage and scampered off while he continued to count at wh
at she yelled was a grossly unfair speed.
Clun heard her patter up the stairs from the second floor and started following
her by the time he was rattling off 35-36-37-38.
Cheater! echoed down from the hallway above. Of all the devious, dirty tricks. Wret
ched scoundrel!
Alls fair, love, he called out as he stormed up the stairs finishing the count as h
e started his search.
He heard an answering squawk and indignant mutterings continue in the distance.
Sound carried beautifully in the empty corridor. He sought her by taunting her a
nd then listening for muffled grumbles of irritation coming from furniture in ea
ch room.
At the end of the hall, he detected barely audible grumblings as he listed possi
ble boons.
I have it, he concluded. I shall pour cream in your navel, love, and lap it up like
a cat.
On tiptoe, he crept up to an obstreperous wardrobe and threw open its doors. She
squealed. He demanded his boon even before she could unfold herself from the ar
moire. She refused flatly to serve as his saucer of cream, pleading ticklishness
. Naturally, his boon involved allowing him to find every hidden, ticklish place
on her body. Not surprisingly, their game stalled when opponents made thorough,
languid love on the unused bed.

* * *

After the exhausted pair revived themselves from Cooks larder, Elizabeth became t
he seeker and Clun the sought.
Not being a wretched cheat like a certain someone who shall remain nameless, she g
ave Clun the full count to 50. She regretted it immediately. After searching fru
itlessly for the baron through the saloons on the first floor, and the unoccupie
d second and third floor bedrooms, she headed back to the baronial bedchamber to
await his triumphant reappearance. Instead, she discovered him sprawled atop hi
s bearskin rug.
What took you so long? He huffed.
Clun lay on his back, his hands behind his head, wearing a smile. Nothing else.
Lounging at his ease, his upper arms and chest bulged with muscle. Her eyes swep
t slowly downward. She took in the sleek ripples of muscles across his belly and
followed an emphatic line of dark hair from below his navel lower to where his
cock rose proud from its lush nest.
Its a vast place, you beast. She sauntered toward him slowly and watched his erecti
on respond.
Being such a clever puss, I expected you to find me in no time. Ive been here so l
ong I had to light a fire. A naked man prefers not to lie around in the cold, Be
ss, he confided. Bad things happen to his best parts.
She couldnt help smiling back at him.
Ah. She let her borrowed dressing gown slip from her shoulders and placed her feet
on either side of his hips. It never occurred to me to look here. She swept her l
ong hair over one shoulder to stare down at him.
Learned that from you, to go where Im least expected.
His eyes slid up her inner thighs and lingered at her downy sex. Although theyd s
ated their hunger for each other many times already, the way his eyes devoured h
er made her feel at once overwhelmed and powerful. She stood over him like the C
olossus of Rhodes and in his avid gaze she felt like one of the Seven Wonders of
the World. How she loved him for this, too.
Unfair of you to use my own strategy against me, my lord, she murmured.
But clever for a lummox.
Mmm, very. What am I to do with you, William? She sighed.
Ive not the slightest idea, but I fear you must do something!
I suppose I must.

* * *

Clun stared up at the glorious Amazon straddling his body.

Perhaps its best I leave our future in your capable hand, he said and moaned as she
slowly settled on his thighs and grasped him firmly. Name your boon, madam.
His lordship flexed his hips suggestively and let her do with him what she would
. She wished first to map with her fingertips the engorged, branching veins that
fed his erect length. She made a thorough exploration of his organ from its swo
llen head down to delve gently between his legs. And she cupped his sac, weighin
g and rolling him softly in her palm. She sent bolts of lust crackling through h
im. He remained still with great, trembling effort. But not silent. There was no
biting back his throaty moans, as she touched him, tasted him and committed him
to memory.
Gently, he drew her down to lie on his chest and her hair fell in a silken curta
in around them. In that bower, he made love to her again.
Several days passed riotously as they occupied themselves in all manner of games
. They laughed and loved almost as much as they dodged about squealing and taunt
ing. It was a time out of time. The years rolled back and they frolicked with ea
ch other, happy as theyd never been as children. Dressed or not, especially when
not, they studied one another with the unselfconscious curiosity of young lovers
.
Having anticipated their wedding night, repeatedly, Clun assumed there would be
no harm in anticipating some of the honeymoon as well. So without explanation on
e clear, wintry day, he took Elizabeth up before him in the saddle and together
they rode to the woodsmans cottage. He said nothing even as he opened the low doo
r for her.
She balked on the threshold. Clun, we mustnt. Its occupied.
On the table sat a basket with a bottle peeking out, cloth-wrapped packets of me
at, cheese and a loaf of bread. Tall beeswax tapers burned and illuminated the s
mall, clean room. Embers glowed in the hearth.
No, its not.
She took in the cloud-like eiderdown at the foot of the bed, made up with clean,
pressed linens and a drift of pillows at its head. The counterpane was turned d
own in welcome. She turned back to him to argue, But someones refurbished it.
At my direction. He drew her inside and closed the door. Id thought to bring you her
e after we wed. Then you came to your senses and refused me. So, I had to haul y
ou back to London instead.
Oh, Clun. She kissed him sweetly and whispered in his ear, Make a roaring fire, I w
ant your parts at their best.

The day after New Year, the baroness descended on The Graces. Penfold showed her
ladyship into Cluns library, where she found her son, looking smug as a fishmong
ers cat, and Lady Elizabeth Damogan, in a similar, self-satisfied state. She blin
ked from one to the other. No one offered an explanation so she spat out, Well, w
hat is the meaning of this?

This? Well, Bess and I have he trailed off and looked at his betrothed.
Negotiated our differences, Elizabeth supplied before choking on something.
Not this, Lady Clun waved her hand dismissively back and forth between them. This c
ouldnt be more obvious. One can hope for an heir, at least. She fixed her son with
her coldest gaze. No, I refer to the castle. Where are my servants, Clun? She dem
anded. And what are your servants doing there?
They are doing my bidding, Mother.
In point of fact, they have overrun my castle.
My castle.
The castle where I have spent my entire life since I was eighteen and newly wed,
Clun, do not be obtuse. Whats more, youve turned off my staff.
Not most of them.
Those who remain are insolent and disobliging. I will not have it.
No, you wont have to. Your familiars now staff the hall in Ludlow.
Ludlow! ThatsIts been shuttered since Oh. You expect me to live in the dower property
?
And embark on the next phase of your life as the dowager baroness. In the Ludlow
dower house. Just as custom and I require. Of course, you may make use of the pl
ace in London.
That will do nicely. I much prefer North Audley Street.
Not my place, the house on Russell Square.
Russell Square, she strangled saying it. You cannot mean for me to live on the frin
ge.
Life is full of disappointments or so youve always told me.
She was silent for a moment.
And surprises, Lady Clun pursed her lips and gave the couple a thorough once over.
I am not pleased, Clun. No one on earth can make Russell Square comme il faut, he
r ladyship declared. And what of my birds?
I expect youll want to have some with you. To lend an exotic flare to your new add
ress, he said. Having feasted on love to his hearts content for days, Clun found h
imself in a magnanimous mood. If anyone can make Russell Square fashionable, Moth
er, its you. Whats more, I shall underwrite the renovations you deem necessary. Se
e if that doesnt bring ton friends to your door.
She sniffed and Clun arched an eyebrow. She swallowed her retort.
Lady Clun, I hope you will attend our wedding, Elizabeth said, after youve had time
to settle in.
To be clear, Clun interjected, we will not postpone the wedding for any reason, Bes
s.

Elizabeth smiled back at him and confirmed, As you say, well marry in London witho
ut delay.
I will, Lady Clun replied her mouth puckered as if eating lemon peels. Thank you fo
r asking, though it seems rather after the fact. She huffed and looked away.
If there is a whisper to that effect anywhere, from any quarter, Clun spoke in a s
low, menacing tone, you will find the Russell Square place sold out from under yo
u and no alternative but Ludlow for life.
She blinked her pale aquamarine eyes. Of course, I understand, no need for theatr
ics. She paused, as if there was something else she wished to say, shook her turb
aned head and set her plumes writhing. Well, theres much to do. I can make Ludlow
by sunset if I start immediately. With that, she swept from the room.
Perhaps theres a nicer option for your mother among the London properties in my do
wry.
First let her accustom herself to our convenience. In a year or two, youre welcome
to offer her another place.

The day before Twelfth Night, Clun returned Elizabeth to the Earl of Morefields L
ondon residence for the second and last time. (Her maid Washburn rode in a secon
d carriage so he could be alone with his Bess.) In this instance, his betrothed
did not fling herself from the moving carriage risking life and limb to escape h
im. This was progress, he noted with satisfaction. She also kissed him like a wa
nton in the privacy of the closed carriage before descending from it like a lady
with his help.
Soon, he and Elizabeth sat on one side of the earls vast book-stacked desk in his
library. The earl sat in his chair on the other side.
When Elizabeth told her father shed decided to marry Clun after all, the earls fac
e stiffened.
Have you objections now, my lord? Clun asked, tamping down his outrage.
The earl blinked rapidly, shook his head and said, Of course not. Mustnt become em
otional, but I am so happy for you, Elizabeth. And you, Clun. Relieved and happy
. So very, very, he croaked and sniffled, happy. He groped blindly and tugged the t
op desk drawer open. From within, countless wadded, crumpled linen pocket square
s popped up in a jumble. He plucked one out, pulled it smooth and dabbed at his
eyes. He took up another and blew his nose into its wrinkles. Such happy, happy n
ews. Im sadly overcome.
With much prodding, he just managed to stuff the used handkerchiefs back into th
e crowded drawer and close it.
For a moment, Elizabeth sat stunned. In the next, she rushed around the desk to
her father and threw her arms around him. She hugged him tight and kissed his te
ar-dampened cheek.
Your mother was forever telling me I was a hopeless watering pot and to put a cor
k in it, he patted her arms and sniffled. And you my dear were such a clever, perc
eptive a little girl, I couldnt have you think your papa was over emotional.

I wouldnt have minded, Papa. She hugged him and he patted the arms she wrapped arou
nd him.
In that case, I warn you, I may shed a tear or two at your nuptials.
Just say theyre tears of joy to have her finally off your hands, Clun quipped befor
e his betrothed silenced him with one speaking look.
The earl gave a watery chuckle. He has a devilish sense of humor, Elizabeth.
Yes, but I love him anyway, she replied. Its my cross to bear.
Clun threw back his head and howled at that.
Afterward, the baron left to make arrangements at the church and Elizabeth prepa
red the menu and directed the earls staff to begin preparations for the wedding b
reakfast her father would soon host.
Thereafter, the baron called at No. 1 Damogan Square daily before the wedding. O
n one occasion, he brought with him Sir Thomas Lawrence. Elizabeth was everythin
g gracious and a little confused when the artist asked her preference for costum
es, color, style and degree of formality for their portrait. She looked at Clun,
not knowing what to say.
I thought wed pose together, Bess, so I might do something other than scowl. Beg p
ardon, Sir Thomas, I cannot contemplate a sitting otherwise.
But each the de Sayres Elizabeth began to argue.
Looks lonely and miserable. With you, I am neither. We shall laugh and tease each
other and let Sir Thomas do what he may with us. Clun turned to the artist to ad
d, All I ask, sir, is that you do justice to my beautiful wife.
It would be my pleasure, Lord Clun, Sir Thomas reassured with a bow.

Lady Elizabeth Damogan married William Tyler de Sayre, Baron Clun, at St. Georges
on the 15th of January in the year of our Lord, 1817.
The wedding itself was an intimate ceremony typical of aristocrats with nothing
to prove. The Earl of Morefield and Georgiana, Lady Clun attended. The Right Rev
erend Bishop of Wherever did not turn to stone looking upon the Fury, as Clun im
pishly predicted. Nor did the stone floor in the nave open up to swallow her, as
Seelye was willing to wager. In addition to the bride and grooms parents, the Tr
avistons and Lady Jane Babcock attended for the bride. Witnessing the solemnitie
s for the groom were the Earl of Uxbridge and the other Horsemen of the Apocalyp
se, the Duke of Ainsworth, with his duchess, Lord Seelye and Mr. Percy.
Uxbridgell steal a march on us if were not careful, Lord Seelye said under his breat
h to Percy on his right. Then looking to his left, he continued, Watch him with y
our duchess, Ainsworth. He mayve lost a leg, but hes still in possession of both h
ands.
Uxbridge merely smirked over his shoulder at the men he once commanded before re
suming a suitably sober mien.

Clun wore an immaculately tailored dark coat, blindingly white cravat, shirt and
waistcoat, buff breeches, proper silk hose and gleaming black leather slippers
with brilliantly polished sterling buckles, all thanks to Fewings.
The groom fretted out of habit. He watched Lord Morefield slowly escort Elizabet
h down St. Georges nave to him. His palms sweated and his heart raced as she walk
ed toward him on her fathers arm. One last, unreasoning worry preyed on his mind:
that she would come to her senses and make a dash for it. His eyes flitted brie
fly to the church doors. They were closed and unlocked. So, he kept an eye on he
r. Her footsteps never faltered. Her sparkling green eyes and sirens smile reassu
red him.
When Elizabeth stood beside him, Clun finally allowed that he was an extraordina
rily lucky man.
Though he might never be the handsome flutterby his Bess deserved, he could live
and die her devoted, powdery moth, flapping heedlessly around her till he expir
ed, grateful to have been dazzled as long as Divine Will permitted.

Epilogue
April, 1817

Lord Clun received the Duke of Ainsworths letter from Greyfriars Abbey by courier
. His Grace was applying to his friends to come immediately because, the duke wr
ote, he could count on the Horsemen to gallop for help or for medicine faster th
an any express rider in the kingdom. He also apologized for interrupting the new
lyweds plans for the Season but needs must. He signed it in a hurried scrawl, Ains
worth. Underneath, he added a postscript: Bring Bess. Prudence asked for her.
Ainsworth was not a man given to exaggeration so the baron sent reply without wa
iting for Elizabeths return from her day with the new Viscountess Speare. When El
izabeth found him and heard the news, her only response was, How soon may we go?
Clun kissed her hard, too moved to express how much he adored his fearless Amazo
n.
They left at first light the next morning.
Greyfriars Abbey was a sprawling polyglot of a pile in Essex. Its main hall stil
l retained the look of its origins as a Plantagenet-era monastery. During Henry
Tudors reign, the property came into Maubrey hands and stayed there. Over time, i
t accumulated additional wings and architectural styles like a hermit crab colle
cted shells on its own. So, by the time of the tenth duke, the result was gargan
tuan and dark with age.
Its quite intimidating, Elizabeth said.
Only if one has a gothic bent, Clun replied.
So I must. I shudder to think of the duchess bearing a child somewhere deep in it
s bowels and count myself lucky to have a sunny, airy house like The Graces.

Its too remote for my peace of mind, Bess, he said to make clear his position. His
wifes safety came first.
Clun, you mustnt get a weevil in your brain about proximity to Londons medical esta
blishment someday when I am with child, do you hear me?
He did hear her. He didnt agree and said nothing but vowed not to bend on that sc
ore.
When Clun and Elizabeth were shown inside, they entered a scene of controlled ch
aos. All was focused activity in the vast country house. The duchess had gone in
to labor, weeks before her time.
The duke greeted them in the largest library. The other Horsemen were already th
ere.
London doctors suspected twins, the duke reported, and by the time Id removed Pruden
ce here for her confinement the most experienced local physician confirmed it.
His Graces expression forestalled any thoughts of congratulating him.
Giving birth to twins is a perilous business, he went on, with many variables to ca
use concern. The gravest issue is the firstborns position. A breech birth for eit
her infant would be bad enough, but especially dire if the first is breech. Deli
very could fatally exhaust the mother and the babe still in her womb.
There were quiet murmurs of No and Pray not.
The doctor warned me, Ainsworth said in a monotone, that if the mother struggled wi
thout success, I would face a decision no man should have to make.
Small woman, big baby. No, babies plural.
Clun remembered discussing this problem half-seriously with Ainsworth not many m
onths ago when it was nothing more than a father-to-bes unreasoning worry.
Everyone in the silent room knew too well mortal danger didnt end with delivery.
Even after an uneventful birth, women too often developed childbed fever. The di
sease was surprisingly democratic, killing opportunistically without regard to r
ank or station.
I sent for the doctor hours ago, Ainsworth concluded.
Seelye jumped to his feet and offered to ride out, find the tardy physician and h
aul him to the abbey over my saddle.
The duke gratefully declined and excused himself to be with Prudence.
Dr. Hopkins arrived sometime later. How much later, no one knew. Tension made ti
me slow to a crawl, as the former cavalrymen knew.
Had trouble with my gig, was all the man said. He removed his hat and muddy coat i
n the drawing room and rolled up mud-dappled sleeves.
The Horsemen to the last man, looked him over from head to toe. Breaking their s
tony silence, Percy suggested they escort him immediately to attend the duchess.
Elizabeth and the others followed the rumpled doctor upstairs and down a long h
all toward the ducal chambers. Footmen carried coppers of hot water down the hal
l. Maids brought armloads of freshly laundered linens and sheets. Everyone heard

the duchess scream in pain. They hurried the rest of the distance.
Ainsworth came out of the duchess bedchamber into the vast, beautifully appointed
antechamber referred to quaintly as her sitting room and said to one and all, La
bor pains are coming more frequently and with greater intensity.
The duke waved Dr. Hopkins into the bedchamber and followed without closing the
door. The Horsemen stayed in the duchess sitting room to be on hand if needed. Ha
ving three unrelated men on hand for a ladys lying in wasnt done, but there was so m
uch the duke did that wasnt done, this impropriety didnt matter in light of his grav
e concerns.
After she screamed through another set of contractions, they overheard Prudence
instruct the doctor to wash his hands before examining her.
At this, Dr. Hopkins sniffed then in a bluff, somewhat condescending bellow, he
reassured the first-time mother, All will be well, Your Grace. Dont fret.
She repeated, Do not touch me until youve washed your bloody hands, sir. They heard
the doctor huff that he must not waste precious time.
So in they strode, ignoring propriety and invading the duchess privacy to see the
sawbones did as she bid. Clun was first through the door with Elizabeth, Percy
and Seelye hard on his heels. The pale duchess lay in sweaty nightclothes, propp
ed up in bed exhausted but presentable. Mrs. Mason stood beside the bedstead. El
izabeth went to Prudence, took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Hes treating me like a child, Elizabeth, its damned infuriating, Prudence panted to
her.
He wont for long, Elizabeth reassured her and wouldve gone but Prudence gripped her
hand to keep her there.
Beyond the bed, the doctor faced four very large, very angry men.
A twin birth is perilous under the best circumstances, Your Grace. Ive not a minut
e to waste, if you will permit me, Dr. Hopkins warned as he asked.
The next moment, the doctor found himself yanked up by his neckcloth, looking in
to the bottomless black eyes of the furious baron.
His toes dangled as Clun growled low, Soap and water first, DoctoRrrrr. He waited.
The doctor dipped his chin as best he could while hanging. Clun lowered him to
the floor.
Dr. Hopkins straightened his waistcoat with what dignity he could muster and wal
ked over to the basin to lather his hands.
Give them a good scrub, sir, Lord Seelye said with steely menace. Well be checking y
our fingernails before you proceed.
Ainsworth shall we toss this one out? I can fetch another. Percy asked over Seelyes
shoulder.
No! Prudence cried, Dont let them scare him off, Jem. Only see that his hands are we
ll washed. And douse them with brandy.
The grim duke swung around to face the doctor. The physician renewed his efforts
and scrubbed thoroughly up his forearms. When Percy and Seelye approached him,
Dr. Hopkins squeaked and leaned away, displaying his hands to them, palms and ba

cks. Twice. Percy poured the contents of a decanter hed fetched from the sitting
room over them into the washbowl.
Much better, Percy soothed and carefully rolled the physicians dingy shirtsleeves u
p several more turns till only white linen showed.
Towel? Seelye offered, handing the doctor a pressed linen cloth to dry his hands.
All the while, Prudence continued to pant and cry out in pain when the contracti
ons seized her.
Satisfied with the doctors toilette, the Horsemen left the bedroom and settled th
emselves back in the far corner of the outer room. The duke stayed. Elizabeth al
so remained at Prudences request. She helped Mrs. Mason cool Her Graces forehead w
ith a damp cloth and murmured encouragements. Maids carried out various tasks wi
th quiet efficiency. The duke hovered until the doctor asked him politely to be
seated. It would be some time yet.
In the vast antechamber, the Horsemen waited long hours. A butler brought them a
tray of spirits; no one touched a drop. In the dark, early morning, they heard
a babe cry out once. It was a thin, weak, little protest but cause for celebrati
on.
Ainsworth came out and, for the first time any of his friends could recall, he l
ooked bewildered. They held their breath.
Its a boy, he finally said. Small. Yet, Dr. Hopkins assures me, he is healthy. Consi
dering.
Considering.
The word terrified Clun. No one asked for clarification. Ainsworths friends offer
ed subdued congratulations and poured out glasses of liquor.
The baron handed Ainsworth his own glass of brandy.
The duke threw it back in one gulp and confessed quietly to him, If I lose her, I
shant survive it.
Clun nodded dumbly. Ainsworth voiced his own worst nightmare of losing his belov
ed this way. Yet despite his own terror, Clun murmured, First ones here, Jem. Wont
be long till his twin makes an appearance. Shes sturdier than you give her credit
for, youll see.
The duke whispered, I pray God youre right. With that, he returned to his wife.
Afterward, Her Graces screams grew faint and hoarse with exhaustion.
Things were not going well.
Was the second breech? Stillborn? Strangling on its umbilical cord? Killing the
mother? Whatever they thought, the men kept it to themselves. They dared not dri
nk lest they be called upon to ride for the duchess sake.
To Cluns everlasting gratitude, his hopeful prediction came true. Prudence rallie
d and gave birth to a second son, also healthy considering.
The doctor carefully cleared the placenta in the final stage of labor. Elizabeth
and Mrs. Mason washed and dressed Her Grace gently in a clean night-rail. Two m
aids remade the bed with fresh linens around the duchess and Prudence fell into

an exhausted sleep.
Elizabeth gave the disheveled duke a peck on the cheek and a crushing hug along
with her whispered congratulations before leaving the room.
The wet nurse has the babes, Your Grace, Mrs. Mason reminded the new father. Shell s
leep best with you by her.
Do I dare? He whispered. Will she recover, Mrs. Mason?
Shell be right as rain just needs her sleep. You too, Your Grace. Pardon me for sa
ying, but you look all in. Mrs. Mason left the couple alone.
The duke quietly yanked off his boots and arranged himself carefully beside his
indomitable wife. She snuggled close as he cradled her in his arms and fell asle
ep fully clothed just as he had during their odd courtship25.
From the duchess sitting room, Percy escorted Dr. Hopkins to a guest room to refr
esh himself before leaving. Seelye took his leave almost immediately, having to
rush back to London because he was obligated to help an old friend avoid certain
catastrophe.
Not, Seelye said, that helping the little monster is possible or even advisable. His
grim expression warned his friends not to delay him for an explanation. He was
an annoyed man on a mission. So, they wished him luck and bade him safe travels.

When Elizabeth emerged from the duchess bedchamber pale and exhausted, Clun took
her by the elbow and led her to their room. Once behind the closed door, he rock
ed her back and forth in a slow, warm bear hug. Never mind the early hour, he bu
rned to share with his wife of three months another life-changing epiphany.
The duchess had twin boys, she whispered to him. It mightve killed her, but she want
ed them so fiercely.
As to that, Bess, we must consider carefully the question of children. Mustnt rush
. No point pressing ones luck. No sense risking your life just to have a scowling
, growling little creature like me. Well take precautions against conception and
live to a ripe old age together. Wouldnt that be nice? He delivered his speech at
a pace as frantic as he felt.
Perhaps, Elizabeth replied, drawing out the space between the two syllables. She e
yed him in a way that made him extremely anxious about best-laid plans. But I wan
t your children, Clun.
Oh God, no, not another negotiation.
His heart, his head, everything he could sense clanged in alarm.
Think of the danger, Bess. The complications. The idiot doctors with dirty finger
nails and broken-down gigs. And breech babes. Umbilical nooses. Fevers. Sepsis.
There are too many terrors to enumerate, for Gods sake. Its too great a risk. I co
uldnt bear to lose you, Clun blurted out all his fears in a rush. I would perish if
I lost you. So I will not, Bess. I wont, you hear me? On this, Ill have no argume
nt. There will be no infernal negotiations. I am your husband and my word is law
. He pinned her with his hardest, darkest glare and hoped for the best.

Dear Clun, she murmured and stroked his cheek, poor Clun.
The baron did not like his wifes affectionate matronizing one little bit. He glar
ed at her again even harder, to forestall any disclosures that might give him fa
tal spasms.
But no, Elizabeth de Sayre, ne Damogan kissed him and said: Its too late for cautio
n, my lord.
Years ago, a horse kicked Clun in the center of his chest, right on his breastbo
ne. Big as he was, it knocked the wind from him, sent him flying and left a dark
, purple horseshoe-shaped bruise on his chest. What his wife just said had twice
the impact. Clun felt her meaning slam through him. And ricochet around inside
him until something odd happened.
His lordship experienced the alchemy of paternal instinct, during which a mans pe
rfectly reasonable, well-founded dread effervesced explosively into wordless, bo
undless, near debilitating joy.
Oh, Bess, I thought I couldnt love you more, His lordship croaked out. And I am wron
g again.
He lifted her high in the air. For minutes, he cried up at her. She braced herse
lf on his big shoulders and laughed down at him as if he were out of his wits. I
n fact, the host of happy emotions overwhelming his overworked heart left him co
mpletely dumbstruck.
The world was once again a blur for the poor, bedazzled baron. He fixed his wate
ring eyes on his glowing wife. Finally, he understood she had illuminated his li
fe from the moment she first emerged from the shadows of The Sundews stable. She
had dispelled the gloom.
Though Clun spun her round and round, it felt as though he circled her, as he ha
d all along. For every moth must dizzy himself in just this way, as he flutters
with joyous abandon around his irresistible flame.

If you enjoyed The Barons Betrothal,

please post your review online.

Next

War hero Lord Burton Seelye returns to England a proud, bored second son with no
peacetime prospects.
If not for an irresistible wager, Lord Seelye wouldve happily stropped his wit on
the Incomparable Ice Maiden. Instead, he must tame the sharp-tongued shrew enough
for her to make a match in her fourth Season.

Lady Jane Babcock has better things

of cynical superficiality. She must
d. But to do that, she must find in
he underdog, no matter how messy or

to do than rescue Lord Seelye from his life

somehow save a tamed bear from a horrible en
Lord Seelye, the man who once stood up for t
inconvenient.

After the Historical Notes, etc., an excerpt follows from:

His Lordships Last Wager:
A Regency Romance Between Bitter Enemies
By Miranda Davis

Historical Notes and Corrections for Curious Readers

About Locations:
The London square, country estate and Welsh castle in this story are either enti
rely fictitious or based on the history of London, architecture of actual countr
y estates and castles that Ive designed in a more appropriate location for the stor
y. The Graces and Greyfriars Abbey were built from the ground up in my imaginati
on. Whereas Carreg Castle was inspired by the ruin of Colunwy Castle in the actu
al village of Clun. Colunwy Castle not being where I wanted it and a pile of sto
nes, I sited the fictitious de Sayre ancestral castle ten miles away and built i
t with glorious Powys Castle in mind, adding an aviary styled after Regency-peri
od conservatories for fun. Similarly, Damogan Square does not exist in London bu
t is plausible, given the history of a similar square developed as depicted in t
he story. I referred to The Regency Country House by John Martin Robinson, for a
sense of the interiors in a grand country estate to bring The Graces to life an
d furnish it properly.

About Mr. John Soane and his townhouses:

Over decades, the architect reconfigured first No. 12, then No. 13 and 14 Lincol
ns Inn Fields as his home, office and galleries for his burgeoning collections of
antiquities, art and books. The right sort were in fact welcome to the private re
sidence to view his collection as depicted. John Soane was knighted in 1831, man
y years after this story takes place, which is why he is Mr. John Soane here. In
1833, by Act of Parliament, Sir John Soane was allowed to bequeath his home and

collection to the nation as a museum. He died in 1837.

Modern-day trustees of his museum published an invaluable catalog, A New Descript
ion of Sir John Soanes Museum, (5th rev. ed. 1981). Thanks to this source, and it
s exhaustive summary of the collection, engraved depictions, photographic images
as well as a meticulous chronology of the buildings renovations and the timing o
f his acquisitions, I have attempted to describe faithfully the state and extent
of his holdings and the crowded manner of display in London at the time of this
story.
If youve ever been to the museum a quirky favorite of mine in London you still ge
t a sense of the light and space as Soane intended it. It became far more stuffed
to the rafters with antiquities after the period in this story. Setis huge stone
sarcophagus came later, for example.
Its a small museum. Still, I wouldnt want to dust it.

Corsets or stays:
Elizabeth is relatively young and wears the shorter, lighter corset or stays of
the period. More matronly women, however wore longer, structured shaping garment
s. There seems to be an assumption nowadays that the term corset and longer shapin
g garments gave way to stays in this period due to the looser, higher waisted cl
assic-style gowns in vogue.
Not so.
In an 1811 guide on lady-like behavior, dress and comportment titled The Mirror
of Graces, A Lady of Distinction repeatedly refers to corsets or stays as synonymo
us terms to describe garments both short and flexible as well as something longe
r, structured and more constricting. These long stays or corsets were intended t
o shape fleshier figures into the slim, pleasing shape that looser, high waisted
dresses of muslin flattered. In other words, the term corset survived as did a lo
nger shaping garment, though long stays were not designed to create a wasp waist
of the previous century but rather to slim the hips.
This Regency author does not like long stays or corsets but its clear from her wr
iting, the long stays or corsets were not only common but over the hip in length a
nd very firming. There was even a long, shaping garment called pregnant stays for
expectant mothers. (Yikes.)
Disdaining long versions, this Lady proves the popularity of these garments: A vi
le taste in the contriver, and as stupid an approval by a large majority of wome
n, have brought this monstrous distortion into a kind of fashion; and in consequ
ence we see, in eight women out of ten, the hips squeezed into a circumference l
ittle more than the waist; and the bosom shoved up to the chin, making a sort of
fleshy shelf, disgusting to the beholders, and certainly more incommodious to t
he bearer. (Pg. 96. See The Mirrors chapter On the Peculiarities of Dress for more d
etails and hilarious discussion of underthings generally.)

Lord Percy no more, my apologies George.

I realized in reviewing noble titles that I had to strip Lord Percy, as he was o
riginally known in The Dukes Tattoo, of his courtesy title. As the second son of
a viscount, he has no courtesy title. I have revised Book One to reflect this (b
ut if youve already read it, its too late). In this, Book Two of the series, he is
now properly identified as the Hon. George Percy or Mr. Percy. Ill make it up to
him in Book Four, sort of.

Lord Seelyes father was the Marquis of Exmoor, not Earl.

For much the same reason, i.e. my confusion, Seelyes fathers is a marquis because
second sons are entitled to a courtesy title. I only mentioned his father once i
n The Dukes Tattoo, and I have corrected this error but I wish to make a clean br
east of it. Hence he remains Lord Seelye while facing all the travails of wrangl
ing Lady Jane Babcock and her tamed bear in Book Three. Frankly, the man deserve
s a medal for all he puts up with but that, too, is another story.

About the Author

Miranda Davis has loved Regency romances since Mr. Darcy won Elizabeth Bennetts h
eart. (Not that Miranda is 200 years old.) Mirandas mother must take responsibili
ty for her daughters love of Georgette Heyer.
At various points, she earned degrees from Smith College and Harvard University
and worked at everything from scooping ice cream to big-time advertising. When s
hes not busy with family along the Old Santa Fe Trail, shes happily dreaming of Re
gency England or reading about it. Or knitting. Or working on the next story slo
wly but surely.
Another important individual contributes to her efforts when not distracting her
with spitty toys or by taking her for walks in the fresh air. Though he doesnt r
ead (that the author knows of), her hulking, brown, part-gargoyle dog continues
to provide inspiration, serving always as an example of loyalty and love. The au
thor feels blessed every day this dog is in her life.

Acknowledgements

First, I am grateful to everyone who took a chance on The Dukes Tattoo, a self-pu
blished first novel. In particular, lets have a moment of silence for early US an
d overseas readers who read my original, imperfectly copyedited version. Your re
views educated me, encouraged me and inspired me to revise it and to make it a b

etter story, I hope.

Second, several generous UK/US/overseas readers have read The Barons Betrothal in
final draft stages to give me their opinion and help me correct Americanisms an
d other thumb-in-the-eye mistakes before publishing. (What a concept.) Thank you
so much Jill MacKenzie in Australia and Karen Zachary in DC for your valuable t
ime and invaluable insights. And to Carol Sissons in Essex, UK, who sacrificed c
ountless, useful brain cells to help me copyedit this, there is not space enough
to express my appreciation for your intelligence, wit and generosity. My deepes
t sympathy for your loss of gray matter.
Thank you, too, Thyra Dane in Denmark, a writer with whom I started up a corresp
ondence via amazon review comments, for reading an early, early draft of this an
d for our wide-ranging discussion about it and HRs. BTW, Thyra will be publishin
g a series of brilliant, well-researched historical romances involving shield ma
idens (think gorgeous, kick-your-ass-capable women with significant leadership r
oles in medieval Norse society) and big, brawny Viking men (sigh).
Third, thank you for purchasing Book Two. Your support may make the third book p
ossible.
If you enjoyed The Barons Betrothal, let me and the world know. Im always thrilled
someone liked my work to some degree and I appreciate positive reviews (and con
structive criticism) as well as personal emails.
If you didnt, in addition to the usual outlets, you may reproach me directly at:
mdavish@cybermesa.com.

From Book Three of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse series

His Lordships Last Wager:
A Regency Romance between Bitter Enemies

Prologue

Somerset, September 1804

Go home, Pest! barked George Babcock, Earl of Chapin and the fifth Duke of Baths he
ir apparent. He addressed the scrawny, tow-headed blonde trailing behind his hun
ting party. We wont have you tagging along. To his friend Lord Burton Seelye, he mo
aned, Sisters! And shes the worst of the lot. Filthy little urchins like glue.
Lady Jane stood well behind the young men, crestfallen at her brothers scornful w

ords of rebuke. She wore a hopelessly dirty dress and mud-crusted half boots. He
r blonde curls were tangled by her headlong pursuit of her brothers and their fr
iends as they went off to shoot partridge.
Oh, George, dont be such a dry stick, drawled Seelye, the handsomest of her brothers
friends and the second son of their nearest neighbor, the Marquis of Exmoor.26
Shell only get in the way, Burtie, George snorted impatiently.
Oh, let her come. Well need all hands to carry home our braces of birds, Seelye boa
sted.
Huzzah! The others cheered.
The Earl of Chapin scowled eloquently.
Mustnt let your envy interfere with our sport, George, Seelye added. We all know shes
a better shot than you.
Is not, he retorted.
Am too, the little lady piped up on her own behalf. Even father says so.
If she gets herself blown to bits, its on your head, Burton, you hear me? George fu
med.
Seelye grinned and held out a hand to help the littlest Babcock over a tree limb
fallen across the path to the fields.
Now after all that, Jane, you really mustnt get yourself shot. You will mind me, y
es? And stay behind us at all times.
She frowned up at him. But I want to shoot, too.
Seelye looked at her, noted the mulish set of her mouth and her cornflower blue
eyes beginning to swim in moisture. No waterworks, Jane. Never works on me, you k
now that.
Jane stiffened, straightened and sniffed. I am not crying. My shoes are wet and p
inching.
I see. Well, that does hurt, he replied. Right. You will remain behind us when youre
not shooting beside me. But you may only use my gun and I will load it for you.
Absolutely no whining about how many shots you get either. We must let George s
ave face, understood?
Rubbish, George spat and strode off to join the others.
Jane nodded, never taking her huge, blue eyes off him. Thank you, Lord Seelye, she
whispered and executed a credible curtsey.
You are most welcome, Lady Jane. And he made an extravagant bow over the ragged cu
ticles of her grubby fingers. I predict youll either grow up to be a hellion of bi
blical proportions or a heartbreaking beauty.
Or both, she said with a lopsided grin.
Well, and why not? Seelye smiled down at her.
But I promise not to break your heart.

I am reassured. And off they walked hand in hand to catch up to the rest.

* * *

Lady Jane Babcock, youngest daughter of the Duke of Bath, fell madly in love wit
h Lord Burton Seelye on the 17th of September, 1804. On that day, she vowed to m
arry him and no other.
She was ten years old and he was 18.
The following year, Seelyes father purchased a commission for him in the Royal Ho
rse Guards Blue of the Household Cavalry. For the next decade, Lord Seelye disti
nguished himself first in the Peninsular Campaign and later in Napoleons final de
feat as one of the vaunted Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
With his golden good looks, ready wit and refined taste, Lord Seelye returned fr
om war in the summer of 1815 a gilded hero and quickly established himself as a
much-envied and emulated beau of the ton.
For months thereafter, Lady Janes path never crossed Lord Seelyes. As a result, Ja
nes vow and youthful infatuation lasted until the spring of 1816 when the two spo
ke at a private ball in Mayfair.
Seelye happened upon her, stared at her through his quizzing glass, coughed and
laughed a little laugh, before saying, Why if it isnt Lady Jane Babcock, Id have ha
rdly recognized you all clean and shiny. Youve grown into a terrifying beauty, I
hear. The Ice Maiden, brrrrrr. You do have a cold look about you. Ive also heard
youve frozen any number of men, that is, when you didnt lash them bloody with your
tongue.
His tone mocked, his hangers-on chortled. Londons wittiest beau was giving the fe
ared Ice Maiden a well-deserved set down, something few dared to do but many praye
d to see done.
Her temper stepped in when the shock mightve left her vulnerable.
Given your well-publicized courage on the battlefield, Lord Seelye, Id have though
t no one terrified you.
And I regret to admit, youd be wrong. Your saber-tongued reputation makes me posit
ively quake.
His claque chortled in amusement and stoked Janes hot temper to its melting point
.
And I would hardly have known you, Seelye, Jane retorted. There is such a surfeit o
f wastrel lordlings outliving their good name and credit in London nowadays, its
hard to distinguish one fribble drowning in the River Tick from another.
Eavesdroppers and onlookers whistled and murmured as the two squared off.

I take exception to that. I am not a fribble but a man of decided fashion, at lea
st it is that to which I aspire in my own poor way. Here, his lordship flicked no
nexistent lint off his exquisitely tailored cutaway coat of midnight superfine. A
s such, I must live up to expectations. After all, many second sons live on cred
it and their names, he said, with a steely note in his offhand reply. Its the way o
f our class and I for one am no revolutionary. But sheath your tongue, sister-in
-law, we ought not lob cross words back and forth to amuse ourselves, much less
others. Will you accept my olive branch and walk with me?
He offered her his arm and gave her a hard look that she dared not defy. She too
k it and he led her off to continue their spat out of earshot.
Be thankful you are female, Jane. You may live your life as an overindulged chit
to whom everything comes easily because you are well born, well heeled and passa
bly well made.
And yet I strive to be more.
Duchess, perhaps? You you mustnt set your cap at Ainsworth, old thing, Seelye concl
uded rudely, For that will never happen, ne-ver.
I could if I wanted to, she retorted and resolved to bring the duke to heel just t
o teach Seelye a lesson. But I prefer to expend my energy in a worthwhile directi
on.
I wasnt aware there were any royal dukes in want of a wife.
No, stupid, to protect the helpless.
Seelye shrugged. Ah yes, and you are fast exhausting everyones patience with your
strident censure of everybody and everything. Except yourself, I note.
I dont care. Now genuinely provoked, Jane snapped, The war gave you a purpose for a
time, what have you now? Your wit and your clothes. Wait, the latter aren t your
s. One cannot own what one has not yet paid for, so I suppose they are still you
r tailor s. I wonder where Beau Seelye will hide when the duns seize his finery
to settle accounts. I hear Brummell has a room to let in Calais.27
Flicking open her fan, she regarded him over its lacy edge.
Jane articulated bluntly the very disenchantment Seelye had felt since his retur
n. His lack of purpose shamed him and made him very angry but he kept his tone l
ight. That is my concern, not yours. I worry far more for you. Time is passing, J
ane, tick tock, tick tock. Yet another Season and still no takers. With your bea
uty and dowry, I wonder why? He tapped his quizzing glass against his chin as if
contemplating a mystery, then said, Perhaps youve been as charming to your suitors
as youve been to me.
You started this. We havent laid eyes on one another for years, yet you took one l
ook at me tonight and raked me over the coals in front of your brainless imitato
rs. Why?
Seelye slowly pivoted to look at her and said, I dont know, Jane. Youve changed and
I dont like what youve become. He stood silent for a moment then shrugged. Fortunat
ely, you like wastrel lordlings even less, so my opinion is of no consequence.
He bowed over her hand and dropped it to walk away.

A few months later, Lord Seelye took a chair vacated in Janes foursome playing wh
ist at her brother the Duke of Baths card party. There, Seelye suffered what coul
d only be described as a catastrophic run of bad luck, whilst Jane enjoyed equal
ly inconceivable good luck at his expense. The duchess, Seelyes eldest sister Ger
trude, hovered nearby but he remained calm and good natured to all and sundry. J
ane thought it prudent to retire before his losses to her became a ruinous blood
bath. She threw down her cards, rubbed her temples and claimed the headache. See
lye excused himself ostensibly to help her.
He offered Jane his arm and she hesitated before resting her fingertips on it.
George will never allow me to accept your vowel for a gambling debt, Lady Jane dem
urred. We are family. We shouldnt have played for money.
Ah, but we did and to my eternal disgust, you won. Its a debt of honor and I will
pay it.
There is no need, Seelye, please say no more.
I have not yet said half what I intend, he said sharply.
Oh no, not the other half! If only you will spare me the peal youre about to ring
over me about ladies gambling deep, Id be tempted to tear up your vowel and call
us even.
He grimaced at her and rasped, Im honor bound to pay.
Fine, Seelye, since its a matter of honor, Her blue eyes sparkled at him, Though I h
ad another thought.
I quail at the prospect.
Lady Jane snapped open her lace fan and gave his lordship a quelling look with c
old blue eyes.
I will forgive your debt if you do something quite arduous for me and do it witho
ut your snide by-play and carping. You must do as I ask and with good grace, you
hear me?
What exactly will this task entail?
I was going to ask only that you ignore me for the Season. I would have happily,
nay joyously, accepted that as payment in full -- to the pence. But youve been so
beastly, I think not.
I believe Id liefer pay with a pound of flesh.
Pooh! Hear me out, wont you? She huffed indignantly, You sound as though I have impo
rtuned you in the past. Youve been at war and Ive learnt to behave myself. But I h
avent much patience so have a care or I will think of something terrible to deman
d. Besides this is for your benefit.
You have never done anything for me but give me spasms since you were old enough
to tag along and get your brothers and me in trouble for allowing it. I learnt m
y lesson after one thrashing too many from His Grace, thank you very much.
Old news, Seelye, old news and long forgotten. She swept his objections away with
a graceful gesture of her fan and shook her golden curls till they bounced and t

umbled about her perfectly oval face.

I have not forgotten nor, I would wager, has George or Rawden.
Such a Cheltenham tragedy! Whatever I eventually decide will be quite simple, an
inconvenience to you I daresay, but it will clear the debt. She blinked at him ov
er the edge of her fan. For instance, you could help me win over the man of my dr
eams.
Ainsworth aint that much a fool, Jane. He cannot be had for the batting of your bi
g blue eyes.
Not Ainsworth, I havent decided yet. But a rival might be useful.
Oh, no! He looked at her aghast, Play your swain? Make love to you to make some oaf
ish marquis or earl jealous? That will not do, I tell you. More likely get mysel
f gutted by Rawden and find my chitterlings splattered all over Mayfair for my p
resumption. No. Ive too strong a desire to keep my chitterlings right where theyve
always been. You are not destined for a second son so I wont pretend, you hear m
e?
Fudge, she said, her voice snapped like her fan closing. Since youre going to be dis
obliging, I will only tear up your vowel after youve done me one favor, no questi
ons asked, no refusal permitted.
As I have already said, I will repay you in the customary manner, on my honor.
To Jericho with custom and your honor. One favor to be determined and in the mean
time you will ignore me.
Ignore you during your third Season?
You know very well its my fourth, she ground out. And I dont need your assistance to
make me feel utterly ridiculous.
True. Youve become an ape-leader all on your own, havent you? He grinned, now enjoyi
ng himself. Heres my counter offer: Ill leave you be, make good on my debt as you d
eem fair and I will be nice to you, if you will be nice to me.
She furrowed her brow and studied his face for any telltale signs of mischief. H
is moss green eyes returned her stare as if daring her to agree.
Is that even possible?
Cant you imagine showing me the slightest consideration, the measliest kindness? Se
elye mocked, his hand to chest as if suffering a stab.
Of course I can try. I wasnt sure you would find it possible. I could gag on the n
umber of times Ive overheard someone say, Lord Seelyes rapier wit has turned the Ic
e Maiden to shavings, et cetera. Ha, ha. Youve been stropping your wit on me and d
ining out on the stories.
But only with your help, my lady. He bowed to her. So I am doubly in your debt.
Wont you starve if we make friends? She asked tartly as she curtseyed.
Not if Im clever about it, Seelye replied.

* * *

Not long after Seelyes fateful game of whist

George Babcock, sixth Duke of Bath strode into the drawing room of his London to
wnhouse, where his wife, Gertrude, sat quietly plying her needlework on the sett
ee. My sisters run off with your damned brother.
And one of your best friends from childhood. What makes you say such a thing?
This note. He flicked a piece of unfolded foolscap back and forth.
Calm down, youve gone quite puce, George. What did she write?
I have run off with Burtie Seelye. Demme if I dont dismember your brother and flog m
y sister when I lay hands on them.
Let me see, the duchess said calmly and extended her hand. Her husband passed it t
o her and flipped apart his coattails to flop down beside her as she looked it o
ver. It says, Im off with Burtie Seelye on a mission of mercy to save an unfortunat
e from a horrible fate. Dont worry, well be fine. You see, George, shell be fine.
Not bloody likely. Im going to have to hunt them down and haul my hoyden sister ba
ck here before her remaining marriage prospects are all but extinguished. And ma
im your brother, Gertie, for that I apologize. Unless under the circumstances yo
u dont mind.
Of course I mind, George. Oh, the duchess interrupted herself and put a hand to he
r belly, Hes kicking, feel it?
Dont distract me, Gert, I wont be put off with your bumps bumptiousness.
Our bump, George.
Oh, fine. The duke slid his hand under the duchess hand and waited. He smiled despi
te his distemper. Hello, little bump, he leaned down to address her belly. Your pap
a is sorely distracted by your managing mama, so he must beg leave to postpone o
ur coze until after he beats your uncle to a squishy pulp and locks your incorri
gible aunt up in a tower. How does that sit with you, Bump?
George, I dont think such bloodcurdling plans are appropriate for our baby to hear
.
If he werent your brother, Id kill him outright. As it is, Ill have to hold my nose
and make him marry her. Cant go running off with her to parts unknown and not com
e out of it leg shackled to her.
Hes always been like a brother to her.
Be that as it may, your family, my title, nothing can protect her from this mess.

Beyond the pale. This time Janes made her bed and she must lie in it. With Seely
e, poor sod. Whatever possessed him to agree to one of her mad schemes anyway.
Hes a gentleman with chivalrous instincts.
Lost at cards to her, Ill wager. I warned him about her. Poor devil. But thats neit
her here nor there anymore. Shell have him or Ill wash my hands of her. I swear, G
ert. I will.
Perhaps we should find them before we pass judgment.
Too late, done and have, George declared and absent-mindedly stroked his wifes bell
y. Next, he crooned, Poor Seelye, much as I like your uncle, little Bump, I will
happily saddle him with your impossible aunt. Youve only to be born to see what I
mean.
If we can find them discreetly, theres no need to force them into marriage.
Shouldve bundled her off to a nunnery after that earl, whathisname, offered for he
r and she browbeat him about mistreating a horse.
Janes Anglican, dear.
Large enough donation and the Carmelites might have her. Are they the ones with a
vow of silence? One can only hope, eh, little Bump?
The duchess chuckled.
And now this, by God. The duke sunk to rest his head in his wifes lap, ear to her b
elly bulge.
You know you may rely on Burtie to protect Jane, not ravish her. The duchess strok
ed the dukes hair from his forehead.
Not Jane Im worried about. This is serious. But he never takes me seriously, damn
it. I should ask your brother Exmoor to sort Seelye out.
That will cause more stir, I fear. We must find them before theres any whiff of sc
andal. In the meantime, she is quite safe with Burtie.
I know that, you know that. But the ton will feast on this latest example of Janes
intransigence and disregard for all sensibility, you mark my words. Shes hopeles
s.
Shes headstrong and principled.
Ha! One could quarry rock from her skull rather. And she refuses to acknowledge a
nyone elses principles, choosing to run riot according to her own. She will ruin
herself and kill Seelye with this latest escapade of hers, whatever it is.
We must make inquiries quietly, so please do not go abroad until you are calm, Ge
orge, said the duchess in a tone that brooked no argument.
He eyed his wife. Yes of course, you are right. I shall be the soul of discretion
. And so shall the army of Bow Street runners I sic on them, I promise. He turned
his head to address his wifes belly, What say you, Bump, draw and quarter him for
a quick death? Or shall I torture him for years with my sister? He pressed an ea
r against her. Ah, you are a cruel creature. To his wife, he relayed, Bump thinks S
eelye must take her off my hands. Even in utero, our Bump has pity for his papa.

The duchess smiled not really paying him close attention.

I hope this is a son so I may call him Bump till his majority, by way of a nickna
me, the Duke of Bath mused to his wife.
George, your daughter took exception to Bulge once she learned to speak.
Mmm. Well.
What will you call the child after this? Convexity? No, your pet names stop at bi
rth, I must insist.
Didnt bother Bulge as an infant, happiest little mite. He smiled at the recollectio
n.
Her Grace eyed His Grace over her needlework.
Oh, very well, Gert. I shall bid adieu to Bump once hes born and we shall saddle m
y heir with some God-awful family name, he sighed. I hate George. Everyones George.
Bump has such a bluff, sturdy ring to it. Nice for a lad. Bump, my boy, Ill say, Fe
tch your papas cup of tea from your lovely mama.
No, George.
Hmph. You liked Bulge well enough.
I only tolerated it.
Yes, fine. Seems you females are born with no sense of humor at all.

Dear readers:
Thank you for coming along so far.
I hope to write Book Three in a year or two.

Best wishes and happy reading,

Miranda

Notes
1. W. H. Auden (1907-73) wrote this long after the barons story takes place but w
hat a lovely thought. M.D.
2. Algernon was typical of the large, muscular gray horses bred from Percherons
and Arabians. Not so large as a pure Percheron, still Algernon favored his Perch
eron sire, and stood at 18 hands, a strapping, huge horse. He was, in other word

s, in perfect proportion to his massive, muscular master, Lord Clun. Descended f

rom destriers, Algernon was the finest, strongest warhorse on the field of battl
e, at least, as far as Lord Clun was concerned.
3. Oops, as the second son of a viscount, Percy has no courtesy title as yet, an
d thus is the Honorable George Percy. I have corrected my error in this story re
ferring to him now as Mr. Percy and retroactively revised the first book but youv
e probably already read that one. My apologies. -MD
4. De Sayre, pronounced de-SAY-er. Although when Clun says it with his sensual rol
ling rs, theres an extra nuance that is frankly and scandalously sensual.
5. The building had numerous windows in spite of the kings window tax, which prev
ious barons groused was a damnable tax on Gods own sunlight and fresh air..
6. The author also mistakenly identified Seelye as the second son of an earl. Hi
s father was the Marquis of Exmoor. So Seelye does enjoy the use of a courtesy t
itle of Lord as such. MD
7. Prior to his military training at the recently opened Royal Military College
at High Wycombe, Clun had had the typical aristocratic classical education with
tutors. And he enjoyed referring to the woman who bore him with witty mythologic
al precision. The Erinyes, translated literally as the angry ones or Furies, perso
nified vengeful anger. Myth had it that when the Titan Cronus castrated his fath
er Uranus and tossed his man parts in the sea, drops of blood gave rise to the F
uries. Certainly given his mothers lifelong dissatisfaction with his philandering
father, the whole castration-vengeful anger scenario seemed perfectly apropos.
8. As a foundation garment, women wore lightly boned stays or corsets in this peri
od. That is not to say the neo-classically inspired muslin dresses and the under
garments made for them were comfortable. The new short-waisted style of womens dre
sses, so deceptively simple in appearance could, in fact, be very restricting an
d the tight construction of the raised waistline round the rib cage extremely un
comfortable. From Jane Austen Fashion by Penelope Byrde, pg. 28.
9. First recorded use: 1785-95; from the Latin incandescent, (stem of incandesce
ns), present participle of incandescere, to glow.
10. Macaroni: an 18th century term used by the older generation for a fop or fri
bble.
11. Carreg is Welsh for stone. The de Sayre lords replaced the original timber m
otte and bailey castle with a stone structure by the close of the 13th century,
as was common on the Welsh borderlands as Norman Marcher lords prospered.
12. The British Museum opened in 1759 dedicated to human civilization throughout
the world and especially the British Empire.
13. According to the late housekeeper who raised her, the unmistakable signs of
a mans affection were: possessiveness and/or jealousy, protectiveness, chivalry,
admiration, desire and selflessness. Not that a man would exhibit all of these s
igns, but if a fellow demonstrated almost all of them, chances were, he was in l
ove.
14. The Furies were at times depicted as having snakes wrapping their waists and
eyes that dripped blood. In a similar fashion, the Gorgons had snakes for hair
and their accursed gazes turned men to stone with a glance. Clun used the terms
the Fury and the Gorgon interchangeably when pondering the subject of his mother
.

15. Henry Paget, second Earl of Uxbridge commanded the cavalry, including the Ho
usehold Cavalry, under Wellington. He was personally acquainted with and charmed
by Clun and his friends, Lords Seelye and Maubrey (later tenth Duke of Ainswort
h) and the Hon. George Percy, giving the cavalry officers the sobriquet the "Fou
r Horsemen of the Apocalypse." He repeated his witticism with delight to all and
sundry until newspapers began to follow their exploits against Napoleons forces.
In the Battle of Waterloos last hours, a cannonball shattered the earls leg. Perha
ps an apocryphal tale, but it was said, he was near enough to Wellington at the
time to cry out, "By God, Ive lost my leg!" To which, Wellington supposedly repli
ed, "By God, sir, so you have!"
16. After his leg was amputated above the knee, Uxbridge purportedly said, "I ha
ve been a beau these 47 years and it would not be fair to cut the young men out
any longer."
17. Before running away, Elizabeth misinformed Washburn, Nettles and Mrs. Dawes
about her upcoming plans, saying only that she would be with Constance to prepar
e for her nuptials and that under no circumstances should they disturb her, it b
eing an exhausting endeavor. She also gave her ladys maid a surprise holiday, as sh
e would be redundant at the Travistons. Recalling her maid was simple, too, for E
lizabeth was a dab hand at forging her fathers signature. By franking the letter,
she obscured its Shropshire origin. Quite clever, she thought.
18. The letters patent creating the barony dated almost to the Conquest. At Will
iam the Conquerors behest, the first de Sayre built a wooden mote and bailey cast
le near the Welsh border to help secure the Norman kingdoms western reach. Follow
ing generations of Marcher lords replaced it with a sprawling stone castle and c
ontinued to amass wealth. To date, the barony was still in its first creation. E
very de Sayre lord managed to beget at least one surviving son to beget another
and so forth in a feat of serial procreation few other noble houses achieved. In
deed, all their begetting and fruitfulness had quite the Old Testament ring to i
t.
19. As a fourth-generation tea merchant, Mr. Richard Traviston was the purveyor
of fine teas to royalty and the peerage. So, there was no stink of trade in the
Travistons unique case. Rather, about this mercantile family was the cosy scent o
f a custom-blended cup of tea from exotic, East Indian sources to which previous
Travistons achieved exclusive rights of trade.
20. Classical Latin, not Freud, friends. Defined as libd (genitive, libidinis, f,
3rd decl.) meaning: pleasure, inclination, fancy, passion, lust, sensuality, etc
. Yeah, I know its a Freudian term now, but in the 19th. century it was a perfect
ly good, familiar Latin noun for desire. Freud borrowed it from Latin, after all
, because of its meaning. So loosen up and calm down.
21. See The Dukes Tattoo, Book One in The Horsemen of the Apocalypse series.
22. Advent can fall any day from Nov. 27 to Dec. 3 and marks the start of the Ch
ristmas season.
23. The Waits falls on December 10, or about a fortnight before Christmas
24. It was rumored Lady Petras friend had made a lasting impression on a young ge
ntlewoman she met in Kent years ago. This Miss Austen, it was rumored, subsequen
tly became A Lady who authored first Sense and Sensibility then Pride and Prejudic
e, both to much acclaim. Having read the latter novel when it came out several y
ears ago, even Lady Petra was moved to tease Lady Wesley of Miss Elizabeth Benne
tts striking resemblance to her, with her fine eyes, her playful wit and her weal
thy, proud husband. Lady Wesley demurred. Lord Wesleys name happened to be DArcy F

itzwilliam, true, but hed been satisfactorily smitten with her from the outset an
d therefore perfectly amiable ever after.
25. See The Dukes Tattoo by Miranda Davis, publ. 2012
26. Lord Seelyes father was misidentified in The Dukes Tattoo as the Earl of Exmoo
r. My bad.
27. In 1816, Beau Brummell famously fled England to avoid debtors prison and live
d in France for the remainder of his life. He lived first in Calais.