For my dad, with whom I was only fortunate enough to spend 16 years.

And for my stepdad, with whom I spent almost twice as much time.

I miss you both.

Chapter One

London, May 1816

“I haven’t heard a word about your sudden misfortune regarding your shipping venture.”

Edward Bishop, ninth Earl of Sutton, peered at his aunt, Mrs. Susannah Greville, who stood behind him near the partially open door of the ballroom. Outside, rain pattered against the veranda, and a cool breeze rustled his hair.

“Excellent,” he said. The report was an utter fabrication, its point to discern whether certain people—namely the young woman he was contemplating marrying—would share the information after being told in confidence. Apparently, she hadn’t, which was to her credit. “You’ve made sure?”

Aunt Susannah nodded primly. “Of course. I’m nothing if not well connected, my boy. That is entirely the point of this enterprise, is it not? If I can’t ascertain whether you’re being gossiped about, I’m of absolutely no use to you.”

Ned turned his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “You are of infinite use to me, but regardless of that, you’re my beloved aunt.”

The pale skin around her eyes formed deep creases as she smiled in return and patted his arm. “Of course. You’ll continue to the next phase, then?”

“Yes.” He felt a modicum of relief. Wife hunting was a tedious business, particularly after seven years of abysmal failure.

“I will see Mrs. Forth-Hodges at the meeting for the Asylum for the Reception of Orphaned Girls on Monday. I shall deepen our acquaintance and learn as much as I can about their family.”

“Very good, and please confirm that they will attend Lady Durant’s dinner party that evening.”

“Certainly. Imagine, if Miss Forth-Hodges passes this next phase, she’ll be only the second young woman to progress to the final stage.” Aunt Susannah’s eyes sparkled. No one wanted to see him married more than she.

Ned exhaled. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but let us not get ahead of ourselves. I must be absolutely certain of her discretion and trustworthiness, as well as her kindheartedness.”

Aunt Susannah’s blue eyes narrowed at him, but only for a moment. “Yes, which is why we go to all this trouble. Sometimes I wonder if this process is a tad excessive, but then I think about why you do it.” Her voice softened, and she touched his arm again. “You are the best of men, Ned.”

Ned didn’t agree with that sentiment, but he wouldn’t quibble with her, not when he knew he’d lose the argument. Aunt Susannah was a force of nature, particularly when it came to defending her family.

“Are you headed to your club, or have you yet to dance with Miss Forth-Hodges?” Aunt Susannah asked.

Ned had already done his duty by dancing with the young woman he was considering as his future wife. “I’ll be leaving for the club shortly. I’ll have the coach sent back here to take you home later.”

“Thank you, my boy. Have a pleasant evening.” She gave him one last endearing smile before leaving his side.

Ned’s gaze found Miss Forth-Hodges on the dance floor. She was an elegant figure with a long, graceful neck and pale blonde hair, curls of which framed her porcelain face. She moved with fluid precision, the skirt of her rose-colored gown grazing her shoes as she danced. Her partner was not quite so skilled as he missed a step and nearly caused a collision.

Miss Forth-Hodges smiled at her partner, but Ned detected irritation in the tight lines around her mouth. She was quiet and deferential in conversation, but Ned had begun to sense a streak of impatience in her. He wasn’t sure if it was directed solely at him, which it very well could be. He hadn’t asked to formally court her but knew she hoped he would. Just two more hurdles, and she could be the next Countess of Sutton.

“Ahem.”

The soft utterance came from the door behind Ned. He pivoted and listened, wondering if he’d imagined the sound amidst the steady pit-pat of rain.

“Ahem.” The sound came more loudly. “Pardon me, but might I ask a favor?”

Ned turned fully toward the feminine voice coming from the dim veranda. He pulled the door wider. “Come in.”

“No.” She stood just outside. Ned could only make out her vague shape. “I can’t come into the ballroom. I need to enter another way and get to the retiring room. I’m afraid I was caught in this rain, and…” Her voice trailed off.

Ned strained his eyes to try to see her features, but it was dark and she was standing too far away from the light of the ballroom. “I believe there’s another door along the terrace.” He gestured behind her. He’d visited Middlegrove House a few times and had been outside before.

“Yes, but it’s locked. That is why I need a favor. I don’t suppose you could find Lady Satterfield and ask her to unlock that door for me?”

Lady Satterfield and not Lady Middlegrove? He glanced back at the crowded ballroom and doubted he could find either of them, especially quickly. “Are you out there unprotected in the rain?” She had to be freezing. It was a cool night amidst a particularly cold spring.

“Er…yes.” She sounded resigned. “It was not my best idea.” Her calm tone carried an edge of humor that Ned found intriguing. He would’ve expected most women to be far more agitated by such a predicament.

Clearly she was alone, and he wondered what she was doing out there by herself. However, that hardly mattered while she was standing there, likely shivering. “Go to the door, and I’ll ensure it’s unlocked posthaste.”

She exhaled sharply, and the sound carried a thrum of relief. “Thank y-you.”

Yes, she was shivering.

He considered handing her his coat through the open doorway, but that would invite unwanted attention and scandal—something Ned was always careful to avoid.

“I’ll hurry.” He left the doorway and cut around the edge of the ballroom, making his way to the cardroom next door. He wasn’t exactly sure which room the locked terrace door opened into but suspected it was just on the other side of this one.

He ought to find Lady Middlegrove or a retainer or even Lady Satterfield, since the young woman had asked for her, but he was too concerned with getting her inside as quickly as possible. And since he didn’t see any of those people, he decided to help her himself.

He left the cardroom and looked around to discern if anyone was about to pay him any mind. Satisfied that he was alone and unobserved, he went into the next room, which appeared to be Lord Middlegrove’s office, and closed the door firmly behind him. A low fire burned in the grate as he walked swiftly toward the exterior door. After unbolting it, he opened it wide.

Standing at the threshold looking little better than a drowned cat was a young woman, her face pale and her eyes wide. She hugged her arms around her waist and stepped inside.

He took her gently by the arm and pulled her farther into the room before closing the door sharply behind her. “Come to the fire.”

Her peach-colored dress was sodden and dark. Wet curls stuck to her temples and cheeks. A droplet of rain slid from her nose.

“Th-thank y-y-you.” The words trembled from her mouth like a newborn foal as she moved to stand in front of the fire. She stuck her hands out, warming her palms.

“Give me those.” He took her left hand and pulled off the damp glove, then repeated the action with the right. Uncertain of what to do with them, he set them on the mantel.

She looked at him, then scanned the room. “Wh-where is L-lady Satterfield?”

“I didn’t see her. I thought it prudent to get you inside as quickly as possible.”

Her eyes widened briefly before narrowing to scrutinize him. “W-we’re in here alone?”

“Regrettably, but no one saw me, and no one will learn we are here.” He crossed back to the door he’d used to enter and locked it. “Better?” he asked when he returned to her side.

“N-no, I’m not at all certain that’s better. N-now we’re l-locked in a room together.” She cast him an ambivalent glance before turning her attention to the fire. She edged closer and turned her hands to warm the backs.

“Just what were you doing on the terrace?”

She closed her eyes briefly before cocking her head to glance at him. “T-trying to be discreet? My gown has a tear, and I wanted to find the retiring room without having to cross the ballroom. I thought I could take a shortcut via the terrace. Unfortunately, it was raining—softly at first, so I hurried. B-but the door was locked, and the heavens decided to punish my foolishness by making it rain harder.”

“You weren’t being foolish.”

She cast him a glance heavy with doubt. “I appreciate your d-defense of my character, but I was.”

“You didn’t know the door would be locked or that it was going to rain like that. You were trying to be sensible.”

She laughed softly, but it quickly turned into a shiver. Her shoulders hunched.

Ned shrugged out of his coat and draped it about her shoulders. She turned her head sharply and gave him another wide-eyed look. “As long as we’re ignoring propriety…” he said. “Just wear my coat for a few minutes while I determine how to get you out of the house and on your way home.”

“Y-yes, that would be lovely.” She didn’t sound disappointed in the slightest. In fact, Ned would’ve said she sounded pleased. Enthusiastic even, particularly given the smile tugging at her mouth. Perhaps her attitude was simply due to her predicament. What young woman was happy to leave Lady Middlegrove’s ball? And wasn’t completely overcome when caught in a rainstorm in a ball gown?

The kind that piqued his interest.

She pivoted and looked up at him. “My lord, just how do you propose to secret me from the house?” It seemed as though her shivering had lessened. He was glad.

“You know who I am.” It was mostly a statement, but held a slight question.

“Of course.”

He, on the other hand, didn’t know who she was. He studied her intently for any feature he might recognize. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in its current chilled state, and the planes of her face were smooth and sculpted. Her nose turned up pertly at the end just the slightest bit, and her lips were lush and full. But it was her eyes that demanded investigation—they were such a vivid blue as to sparkle like jewels, and their lashes were thick and nearly black, veritable curtains cloaking the windows to her soul. It seemed the poetry he often read to George was overtaking his mind.

He brought himself back to the present and the fact that he didn’t know who she was. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

She turned back to the hearth. “We have not been introduced, nor do I think we shall ever be.”

A surprising sense of disappointment wound through him. “Why is that?”

She pulled his coat more tightly around her frame. “You’re you and I’m me.” She tipped another brief glance his way. “You’re an Untouchable.”

“What the bloody hell is that?” It sounded rather repugnant.

“Someone so far above my station that it’s unlikely we shall ever be introduced.” Her tone was laden with irony.

He frowned, not at all certain he cared for the way she characterized the divide between them, nor was he convinced it existed to the degree she stated. However, since she knew him and he didn’t know her, he had to allow there was at least a modicum of truth to it. “So I am never to know your name?”

She edged her chin up. “Miss Aquilla Knox.”

The firelight danced over her features, casting her in a golden glow and making her eyes look even more like lapis. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Knox.”

She stared at him a moment before another shiver shook her frame. He silently cursed himself for dawdling, but something about her had put him quite at ease. Or enticed him. Or, alarmingly, both.

“I’m still waiting for you to share your plan,” she said.

He didn’t have a plan. He turned from her and paced a few steps before circling back.

She exhaled. “Do you know Lord Satterfield? I’d venture to guess he’s in the cardroom. You could tell him to inform Lady Satterfield that I am here and need to leave…secretly. That is of the utmost importance, I think.”

Ned stopped in his tracks and blinked at her. She was good. Very good. If Ned went directly to Lady Satterfield, it might be noted, but an exchange of words amongst gentlemen in the cardroom would not draw attention. “You had your own plan all along.”

She shrugged. “Not all along. If you recall, my plan was to sneak into the retiring room and repair my gown.”

“Well, this is an excellent plan.”

Her lips lifted into a winsome smile. “At least I’m improving.”

He chuckled softly, appreciating her self-deprecation. This was a woman who knew herself and didn’t hide behind what was expected of her.

Now that he had a plan, he supposed he ought to go posthaste. Her shivering had lessened, but she still needed to be on her way. “I’m afraid I’ll need my coat.”

She winced as she pulled it from her shoulders. “It’s a bit damp in the interior now. My apologies.”

He took the garment. “Unnecessary. I would give you my coat again if you needed it.”

“How chivalrous and yet scandalous at the same time,” she murmured.

Her words inexplicably heated his flesh. Perhaps it was the fire. “Unintentionally. I do not appreciate scandal or notoriety, Miss Knox.”

She laughed, and it held a rich, robust quality that nestled into his chest. “Who does?”

He slid the coat on and suppressed his own shiver at the chill that had settled into the garment. “There are some who enjoy celebrity.”

She angled herself back toward the fire, and he could no longer feast on her magnificent gaze. “Yes, I suppose so, but your reputation isn’t of that nature.”

“And what nature is that?” Was she going to spout more nonsense about him being untouchable?

She looked at him again, and the intensity of her gaze put him under a spell. “Do you really want to know?”

More than anything. “Yes.”

“My friends and I call you the Duke of Deception.”

The intimacy of their situation and the ease of their conversation had lulled him into a sense of comfort. That sentiment completely snapped. Anxiety tinged with fear raced through him. “The what?”

“Oh, we realize you aren’t a duke, but you may as well be to us.” She waved her hand, completely unaware of the apprehension tightening his frame. “That whole Untouchable thing. As for the deception…well…” Now she averted her gaze as she blushed, which brought some much-needed color to her face.

“Yes, do tell me how I deceive.” His words came out clipped, and he didn’t bother trying to soften them or his expression.

“You did say you wanted to know.” She straightened her shoulders. “Very well. It’s your courting practices—the fact that you lead young women on a merry chase, and just as they expect an offer of matrimony, you abandon them entirely.”

Relief seeped through him, slowing his heartbeat and wiping away the fear. He should have expected that to be the basis of their silly nickname. No one knew the nature of his true deception—and by the grace of God, no one ever would. “I don’t deceive them. I make no promises.” Ever. “It’s not my fault they expect something that hasn’t been offered and never would have been.”

She blinked at him as her jaw dipped. “You’re saying you never intended to marry any of them? You weren’t at least trying to determine if you would suit?”

“Yes, I was, but we didn’t. Suit, that is.” He understood he had a reputation for disappointing young women, but so did many other men in Society. “Why not call me the Earl of Lies?”

“Well, that’s not nearly as alliterative or refined as the Duke of Deception now, is it?”

“It’s all nonsense.” Except it wasn’t—the title actually fit and for reasons Miss Knox and the rest of Society would never understand. If they wanted to focus their attention on his “courting practices,” he was only grateful they didn’t look further into his life.

“I meant no offense, truly,” she said. “You should go find Lord Satterfield.”

Yes, he should. He straightened, and the damp lining of his coat stuck to his shirtsleeves and waistcoat. “Why the Satterfields?”

“Lady Satterfield is my sponsor. I am residing with her for the Season.”

Ned knew the Satterfields and their stepson, the Duke of Kendal. That Lady Satterfield was sponsoring Miss Knox gave the young woman in front of him a greater status than she apparently realized. “Miss Knox, there is no reason we wouldn’t be introduced at some point. By way of your connection to the Satterfields, I am not nearly as ‘untouchable’ as you say. Is there a chance you have an underdeveloped opinion of yourself?” He would be surprised given her frankness and overall comportment—she had an undeniable air of confidence, even in the face of adversity.

“I’m afraid I don’t. It is true that I am a wallflower, but I am the antithesis of shy and retiring. I suppose I could be outgoing and still have poor self-esteem, but that is not the case. I think.” She tipped her head to the side. “That might bear contemplation.”

She was going to reflect upon what she thought of herself? Ned shook his head. “I think I’m confused.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s a hazard of spending too much time in my company. Now, I really must insist you find Lord Satterfield. I’m quite cold.”

Hell. He’d gotten completely wrapped up in talking to her. “I’m going now. Lock the door when I’m gone. I’ll tell Lord Satterfield to have the countess knock three times.”

She smiled broadly. “How clandestine. I must thank you for giving me a small adventure this evening, my lord.”

He bowed. “It was my pleasure.” Because, really, she’d given him one as well.

He went to the door, and after unlocking it, turned. To his surprise, she’d followed him. He hadn’t heard her footsteps.

“Go on, then,” she said. “I need to lock the door so I can get back to the fire.”

“Yes, of course.” He slipped out, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked into place, and he made his way to the cardroom.

He had to wait a few minutes for Satterfield to finish a hand of cards. Fortunately, he stood from the table and Ned was able to draw his attention to convey the information about Miss Knox, including her location and that Lady Satterfield should knock three times so that she would know it was the countess.

Satterfield, a man of middling height and thinning brown hair, wrinkled his brow as he looked up at Ned. “How did you come to know this information?”

“It’s, ah, a bit complicated. No one else is aware of her…situation.”

Satterfield’s brow formed deep creases that looked like Ned’s fields at Sutton Park just before the tenants planted the crops. “If I hear of anything untoward—”

Ned cut him off with a frosty glare. “I will pretend you didn’t say that. Now please attend to Miss Knox before she catches cold. I insist.” He felt a bit contradictory telling Satterfield that when he had dawdled with her in the study. Ah well.

“Very well.” Satterfield gave him an earnest look. “I meant no disrespect. She’s a young lady, and I’m responsible for her. Thank you for your assistance.”

Ned nodded. “Good evening.”

Satterfield took himself off, and Ned resisted the urge to follow him. For whatever reason, he wanted to ensure that Miss Knox arrived home safely. He would feel terrible if she became ill due to her exposure. He never should have tarried with her for so long. For a variety of reasons.

Another chill shuddered through his frame, reminding him of the dampness of his coat. He ought to leave as well. He went in search of his aunt to see if she was ready to depart, for then he could accompany her home.

After nearly a quarter hour of searching and growing colder by the minute, Ned found Aunt Susannah in a sitting area off the ballroom. She’d just risen from her chair and now blinked at him in question. All she said was, “Sutton,” but Ned understood that she was surprised to see him—she’d thought they’d said their good evenings.

He inclined his head toward her and the other handful of ladies sitting about. “I thought I’d see you home, if you’re ready.”

“Actually, I am, thank you.” She turned and bid good night to her friends, and Ned ushered her from the ballroom. As they made their way to the entry to wait for his coach, she asked, “You aren’t going to your club?”

“I need to go home and change my coat. I’ve a tear on the interior, and it’s a nuisance.” He didn’t want to explain the true reason. He would keep Miss Knox’s reputation safe, even from his aunt.

“How aggravating for you, but how fortuitous for me since I shall have your company on the way home.” She smiled up at him.

They didn’t have to wait long and were soon ensconced in Ned’s coach on their way to Sutton House, a trip that would take all of ten minutes. Ned appreciated the brevity since he could scarcely wait to shed his coat. It had warmed a bit from his body temperature, but now the rest of his garments were damp, so he’d need to strip everything if he wanted to go back out to his club. He wasn’t sure he wanted to bother, because he planned to rise early tomorrow for a quick trip to Sutton Park, his estate just south of central London.

“What time will you depart for Sutton Park?” Aunt Susannah asked. “I was thinking I might join you if you don’t plan to leave terribly early.”

“I have a meeting with Dr. Paget at ten o’clock, so I was going to leave by eight.”

She waved her hand with a chuckle. “Never mind. I’ll go with you next week as we discussed.” They made regular trips to Sutton Park during the Season, sometimes as often as twice each week. Ned liked to keep his hands on his estate, plus there was George to look after.

“Is this a regular meeting with Dr. Paget, or is there a problem?”

“I received a missive earlier today that George has returned to his biscuit diet.” Ned stretched his legs out, careful not to take any space away from his aunt, who was seated across from him. “I’m sure it’s nothing—just another of his moods.” George sometimes decided that he could only eat biscuits, for some fantastical reason. But then that was George. He often made things up, and his mind was full of delusions, most of them thankfully harmless. However, sometimes they weren’t harmless, and Ned felt he possessed the best insight into those episodes.

Once, when George had gone on a biscuit diet, he’d eaten so many of them at once that he’d become ill. That had been before Dr. Paget had started as his caretaker, and since then, George had been much better supervised. Ned’s staff did all they could, but George required constant care. It was a sad state of affairs for a grown man, but necessary nonetheless.

Aunt Susannah gazed at him with pride and love. “George is very fortunate that you’ve decided to care for him.”

Ned appreciated her sentiment but bristled slightly at her words. “There was no other choice to make.”

The warmth in her eyes didn’t diminish. “You did have choices—you do, but thankfully, you’ve made the right one and ensured his life isn’t wasted. I do like Dr. Paget. He seems to be working out quite well.”

He was. Ned had hired him away from an asylum in Amsterdam after reading about his methods for dealing with people like George. People with wild imaginations and an inability to care for themselves. Dr. Paget had been with them only about three months, but George’s periods of sheer lunacy had diminished. “I’m encouraged by his results so far.”

Aunt Susannah nodded enthusiastically. “I am too. I really do think everything is coming together for you at last. I believe Miss Forth-Hodges could be the end of your wife hunt, and with George doing so well, you’ll be able to focus on your life, your happiness.”

Ned turned his attention to the window lest she see his reaction. He was happy, and he was weary of her pushing him toward some sort of blissful estate that probably didn’t exist. He wasn’t taking a wife for reasons of happiness. He was taking one because it was required. And if he was going to do anything in this life, he was going to provide George with the best care possible and ensure the earldom passed in a better state than which he’d inherited it. He’d take a countess, beget an heir, and if he had time and luck, maybe he’d find a bit of that happiness Aunt Susannah spoke of.

He thought of Miss Forth-Hodges, and almost immediately, the image of her in his mind was replaced with that of Miss Knox. He wondered where she was now and whether she was still fit. He’d have to find a way to learn of her state.

Why exactly?

He had no vested interest in her, no reason to ascertain her well-being. Nevertheless, he wanted to know. Needed to know. He’d taken her predicament into his own hands and felt responsible. Yes, that had to be why.

He’d work out a way to ascertain her well being; then he’d be able to put her from his mind and focus on Miss Forth-Hodges.

And the ever after that stretched before him.

Chapter Two

Aquilla Knox brushed at the curl tickling her temple as the coach bounced along the street toward Lady Durant’s dinner party.

Lady Satterfield looked at her husband, who sat across from them in the rear-facing seat. “I daresay whatever is wrong with the coach isn’t yet fixed.”

Lord Satterfield frowned. “No, it’s still a bit jumpy, isn’t it? It may be time for a new vehicle, I’m afraid.” He didn’t sound even slightly disappointed, but then Aquilla knew he was eager for a new coach—he was just waiting for his wife to agree.

Aquilla slid a glance toward her sponsor, the endlessly kind Lady Satterfield. A small smile curved her lips as she gazed at her husband.

“I see,” she said softly. “We’ll discuss it further tomorrow.”

The earl’s eyes gleamed. “I shall look forward to it.”

Lady Satterfield turned her head toward Aquilla as she reached up to pat the back of her upswept hair, which was still mostly dark despite the countess being in her mid-fifties. “Are you looking forward to tonight’s dinner?”

Not particularly. “Yes.” Aquilla winced inwardly at the lie.

And why did she lie? Because to tell Lady Satterfield the truth, that her efforts to match-make were in vain, would be to admit that Aquilla was a charlatan of the highest order. No, that wasn’t precisely it. She didn’t want to disappoint Lady Satterfield. The countess had taken Aquilla in and given her the most welcoming home she’d ever known.

Lady Satterfield tipped her head to the side and looked at Aquilla with concern. “Are you certain you feel up to it? I thought two days would provide ample recovery, but perhaps we should’ve stayed home tonight.”

Aquilla rushed to put her at ease. “No, I’m fine.” Indeed, she’d been fine. Had she taken a bit of advantage of her exposure the other night to earn a reprieve from the demands of the Season? Yes. But to be fair, she had felt a trifle under the weather yesterday after the Middlegrove ball. She’d spent the entire day abed, which had given her plenty of opportunity to recall her interlude with Lord Sutton.

Interlude.

She didn’t like the connotation of that at all. It gave her shivers and made her skin flash hot.

“If you’re certain, dear.” Lady Satterfield settled back against the seat. “I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: I am quite thankful to Lord Sutton for unlocking that door, even if it did create an unfortunate situation.”

Aquilla stifled a sudden urge to laugh. Had it been an interlude or an unfortunate situation? Neither, but the differing perspectives were amusing.

“Indeed,” Satterfield agreed. He’d queried Aquilla on the ride home that night, making sure that Sutton had behaved in an appropriate fashion. He had, of course, but what if he hadn’t? She’d avoided asking herself that question, fearing the answer. Would the Satterfields have forced a marriage despite no one being aware of their…unfortunate interlude? Aquilla decided she liked that description best.

She’d assured the Satterfields that he’d acted with the utmost decorum. She hadn’t elaborated—they didn’t need to know how long she’d conversed with him or that he’d lent her his coat. No, definitely not that last part. That would likely elevate the circumstance to unmitigated disaster.

This time, she couldn’t keep a smile from breaking through.

“What is amusing, dear?” Lady Satterfield asked.

“Nothing. Just looking forward to the dinner party.” She’d try to look forward to it.

“I expect you’re anticipating sitting next to Lord Lindsell?”

Aquilla turned her head toward the window lest Lady Satterfield see her reaction. The baron was going to be there? She hadn’t known. Or perhaps she’d simply forgotten. Sometimes it was best to put distasteful things out of your mind.

Lindsell wasn’t distasteful exactly; he was simply eager. He’d danced with her twice now, which was more than any other gentleman this Season. She clearly needed to work harder to dissuade him.

She forced a smile and turned back to Lady Satterfield. “I’d forgotten he would be there, actually. I shall be delighted with wherever I sit.”

“You are such an agreeable young lady.” The countess clucked her tongue. “I cannot comprehend why you haven’t had one suitor in the past five years.”

Aquilla comprehended it quite well—she didn’t want one. Oh, she had, once. Before she’d learned how dreadful marriage could be. Her primary goal this Season was to establish contacts so that she could gain employment as a companion at the end of it, like her good friend Ivy Breckenridge.

“Gentlemen are stupid,” Satterfield interjected.

Lady Satterfield laughed. “Many of them, yes. Not you, my dear.”

He inclined his head in a gallant fashion. “Why, thank you. Hopefully, Lindsell will prove to have more sense than the average fellow.”

“I am optimistic,” Lady Satterfield said. “You like him, don’t you, Aquilla?”

“I don’t think I know him well enough yet to say. He’s a good dancer.” She would allow him that at least.

“Well, tonight you’ll be able to form an opinion.” Lady Satterfield’s lips spread into a wide grin, and she winked at Aquilla. “I might have arranged for you to be seated next to him.”

Then yes, Aquilla supposed she’d have to form an opinion. Goodness, how long was she going to maintain this masquerade? She ought to just tell Lady Satterfield the truth, that she didn’t want a husband. Wouldn’t that shock her and everyone else, including her two best friends—Ivy and Lucy. Lucy, who’d surprised them all when she’d become the Countess of Dartford last month. The only person who wanted to marry less than Aquilla, besides Ivy, of course, had been Lucy. Until she’d fallen unexpectedly and hopelessly in love.

Warmth bloomed in Aquilla’s chest when she thought of her friend’s happiness. She knew it could happen…just as she knew it could change without warning. It was a gamble and one Aquilla wasn’t sure she wanted to take.

She was saved from further discussion because they had arrived at the Durants’. The coachman opened the door, and they departed the vehicle into the early evening. The weather was still quite cool, but it had at least been dry today.

Once inside, they were shown to the drawing room, where they would mingle for a short time while others arrived. Aquilla mentally prepared herself, as she always did when she went to a social event. Summoning a bright smile, she followed the Satterfields into the room, ready to face the evening. She glanced around to take stock of the guests and started when her gaze collided with one she hadn’t remotely expected: Lord Sutton.

His gray eyes—she recalled the color from the other night—were fixed upon her. They were intent, probing almost, his brows riding low on his forehead. He had thick, dark blond hair that waved back from his temples. His features, an alluring combination of rugged, with the set of his chin, and sophisticated, with the arc of his cheekbones, were as finely drawn as any Joshua Reynolds portrait. He looked austere, as an Untouchable ought, but also a bit wild, as if he suppressed something uncivilized. Perhaps that was due to his exceedingly athletic frame. He was well-known for his riding skill and his penchant for frequenting Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Saloon.

“Aquilla?” Lady Satterfield’s quietly spoken query drew Aquilla from her fanciful assessment of Lord Sutton.

“Yes?”

“You just seemed to be woolgathering…” She didn’t say anything more, but the rest of her statement likely would have been, And Lord Lindsell is approaching, for he was, in fact, bearing down on them.

Lord Lindsell was not athletic. He was rather thin, of average height, with dark brown curly hair not too unlike Aquilla’s. She had a difficult time managing hers and could only imagine how curly their child’s hair might turn out.

Child?

She immediately banished such thoughts.

“Good evening, Lord and Lady Satterfield.” Lindsell bowed to the earl and countess before turning his delighted attention to Aquilla. He smiled, baring his teeth, the bottom row of which was quite crooked and which he tried, and sometimes failed as now, to hide with his lower lip. “You look lovely this evening, Miss Knox.” He offered her a deeper bow, and she had to admit it was charming.

She dipped a curtsey. “Good evening, my lord.”

Their host and hostess came over then and welcomed them to their home. They continued on, and a moment later, the butler announced it was time to move into the dining room.

Lady Durant moved to the doorway with her husband and said, “I’ve set a particular scheme for tonight’s seating arrangement.” She smiled, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Please sit where your name appears on the card. It will be such fun!” She glanced at her husband, who only nodded slightly. He looked as if he’d prefer to sit in another room entirely given the creases around his mouth and eyes that gave him a rather pained look.

Aquilla shared Lord Durant’s displeasure, if that was in fact what he was feeling. Since Lady Satterfield had apparently communicated a desire for Aquilla to be seated next to Lord Lindsell, she expected just that.

Lindsell offered her his arm, and they made their way into the dining room in the procession of guests. Everyone surveyed the table to see where they were seated, and Aquilla was correct—she was to Lindsell’s right a few seats down from Lady Durant’s end of the table. It looked as if most of the unmarried guests were near her, likely because her unmarried son was seated to her immediate right.

Aquilla looked at the card to her right, and her breath hitched. Lord Sutton. She turned her head and saw him coming toward her. He escorted a young lady Aquilla knew only superficially. Miss Emmaline Forth-Hodges was a few years younger than Aquilla and a far more desirable candidate on the Marriage Mart. She was on her second season, Aquilla believed, and likely wouldn’t last another. In fact, she was perhaps Sutton’s latest prey. If Aquilla tracked gossip more closely, she would know.

Prey? Did she see Sutton as a predator?

She stole a look at him as she took her seat. There was something predatory about the way he moved. Or maybe it was the way he’d looked at her the other night in Lord Middlegrove’s study—as if he’d cornered her. But that was absurd. He’d been kind and helpful even if he hadn’t completely thought his plan through when he’d rescued her.

Kind and helpful…was that how Miss Forth-Hodges would see him after he inevitably abandoned any interest he might have in her?

Aquilla found herself frowning at Sutton. She didn’t even know Miss Forth-Hodges, and yet she felt instantly sorry for her given Sutton’s reputation. But then it wasn’t as if the young woman wasn’t aware of it herself. That was one thing Aquilla didn’t understand. If these women knew he wasn’t likely to marry them—and they surely must—why bother with him at all?

Because he was an earl and a wealthy one at that. Someday, one of them would be his countess, unless he really never planned to marry at all. What a cruel joke he was playing, then. She suddenly wanted to ask him. Not that she would. And even if she did, she didn’t expect him to tell her the truth.

It suddenly occurred to Aquilla that she could very well be called the Duchess of Deception since she’d spent four and a half Seasons seeking a husband with no intent to actually marry. She really had no right to judge Sutton at all.

With everyone settled in their seats, the footmen began serving, starting with the ladies of highest rank. Lord Lindsell looked toward Aquilla. “I missed seeing you the past few nights. I hope nothing was amiss?”

Oh dear, he’d been looking for her. At least he wasn’t calling on her. Not yet, anyway. “No, nothing.” She exaggerated a pout for a moment. “Actually, that’s not quite true. I was feeling a bit poorly. Ghastly green mucus coming from my nose and a rather productive cough.” She made a show of coughing. “My apologies, my lord. Perhaps I should’ve stayed home tonight as well.”

He stared at her a moment, and she silently congratulated herself on provoking his disgust. Hopefully, it would stick. He gave her a smile that seemed a trifle laborious. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh, me too. I get dreadfully bored without people to talk to. Not that Lady Satterfield isn’t delightful to converse with, but perhaps you understand what I mean. I do so like to talk, don’t you?” She smiled brightly.

He chuckled. “I suppose so. Yes.”

Aquilla continued her assault. “Tell me what I missed. Any good gossip or scandal?”

The footman arrived and gave her a serving of soup. It was turtle—not Aquilla’s favorite—so she took only a few small spoonfuls.

Lindsell looked a little nonplussed. “I daresay I wouldn’t know about any of that. You find that sort of thing diverting?”

“Oh yes. You would too. Have you tried it?” She kept her tone light and airy.

Lindsell blinked at her, his spoon momentarily suspended above his bowl. “Tried what?”

She tipped her head to the side and widened her eyes. “Gossiping.”

He stared at her a moment longer before wordlessly turning his attention to his soup.

Satisfied that she was making progress with her sabotage, she gleefully focused on her own soup, pretending to eat several spoonfuls. In reality, she tilted the spoon just slightly so that it wasn’t obvious that she was simply returning the soup to the bowl.

Thankfully, the young woman on Lindsell’s other side was speaking now. Hopefully, Aquilla had won a small reprieve from his interest.

“You don’t care for turtle soup?” The quiet question came from her right. From Sutton.

From his perspective, it would be quite obvious that she wasn’t actually eating. Provided he was looking. And he was, apparently, looking.

“No.” She glanced over at his bowl, which remained quite full. “Nor do you, it seems.”

“No. I detest turtle soup.” He didn’t even summon a pretense—his spoon sat unused next to his bowl.

Her lips tugged into a small, brief smile. “I tolerate it, but if I’d had the opportunity for hatred, I might well have done.”

Her mother had been militant about Aquilla’s and her brothers’ eating habits. The nurse had always made them eat some of everything they were served. Mother’s excuse was that they needed to learn to like everything lest they embarrass themselves at an event just like this one. Aquilla had since learned that was balderdash. People ate whatever they damn well pleased—or not, as Sutton currently demonstrated—and no one lifted an eyebrow.

“Is there something hindering you now?” he asked, again keeping his voice rather quiet. “Why not give in to your hate?”

She wanted to giggle at his question—it sounded like something a five-year-old might do. But really, why couldn’t she just stop eating turtle soup? Particularly since her parents weren’t here to scrutinize her every action. “That’s not terrible advice,” she said, keeping her voice low as well. “I shall take it under advisement.” Pretending to eat did, however, offer an opportunity to stall an unwanted conversation, not that this was one.

He leaned infinitesimally closer. “Did I hear you say you were ill? I tried to ascertain your health following your…unfortunate situation, but all I could discern was that you were not out and about.”

She turned her head abruptly toward him at his use of “unfortunate situation.” Again, she wanted to laugh, but only smiled. “I prefer to think of it as an unfortunate interlude.” She looked back toward her bowl and set her spoon down, more than happy to be done with turtle soup for the evening and perhaps forever.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I see. I should like to withdraw my use of the word unfortunate, for I found our interlude most diverting.”

“Isn’t that right, Lord Sutton?” The query came from his right, forcing him to turn his head away from Aquilla.

Aquilla might have tried to listen to the ensuing conversation, but the footman removed her soup at that moment, and Lindsell took the opportunity to regale her with a tale of being caught in a downpour while out riding the other day. Aquilla inwardly stiffened, wondering if he somehow knew she’d been in the same predicament. But how could he know? No one did—not even Lord and Lady Middlegrove. Lady Satterfield had secreted Aquilla from the house quite swiftly via the backstairs and the servants’ entrance. Aquilla supposed there was a servant or two who’d seen them, and retainers did gossip, but so far nothing had come to light. And even if it did, it wouldn’t be of interest to anyone. She was, after all, a nobody, a wallflower, and nearly a spinster. Now, if anyone knew she’d been closeted with Lord Sutton, well, that would be a different matter entirely.

Thankfully, no one did.

“Miss Knox?”

Lindsell’s use of her name jarred Aquilla from her thoughts. She hadn’t heard much of anything he’d said. But rather than ask him to repeat himself, she simply smiled and nodded. “Oh yes, of course.”

His eyes narrowed in puzzlement, and she knew she’d responded nonsensically. Brilliant.

“Tell me, my lord, what do you think of butterflies?” she asked. “I like them immensely, but with the weather so cold this spring, I haven’t seen a one. They aren’t terribly abundant in London—not nearly as much as at home—but I still tend to see them from time to time. I particularly like the yellow ones.”

“Butterflies? Yes.” His brows dipped over his eyes as the footman served him mutton and vegetables. “Yellow ones are quite nice. I’m not sure I’ve seen many of them in Essex.” His country seat was approximately fifty miles southeast of Aquilla’s father’s house in Bedfordshire.

She fluttered her eyelashes and adopted a scolding tone. “You can’t possibly be looking close enough. I’m certain you have thousands of yellow butterflies at Chelmer Green.”

“I suppose you’ll have to visit, with your family or the Satterfields, of course, and point them out.”

Blast, she’d fallen right into that one. It did seem as though Lindsell was interested in her for the long term. “Do you have goats, my lord?”

He froze in bringing a piece of mutton to his mouth. “Goats?”

“Yes. I particularly love baby goats.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper as if she were imparting a dire secret. “Do you know, I like to dress them up like little people. It’s such fun!”

He chuckled as he chewed his food. After swallowing, he said, “I imagine that got you into trouble in your youth.”

“In my youth? Why, I still do it. In fact, when I’m here in Town, I always pick up a few items for my collection. Just yesterday, I bought the most cunning little hat. Those can be tricky to keep on the goat’s head, but I’ve an extensive stock of ribbon for just that purpose.” She continued for a few minutes, describing the aspects of the new hat before outlining her favorite goat outfit—which didn’t even exist—in exacting detail.

By the time the course was cleared and the salad set before them, Lindsell was once again occupied with the young lady to his left. Aquilla turned her attention to her dish and congratulated herself on her performance. She’d drive him to distraction yet.

“I didn’t have the chance to ask how you’re feeling,” Sutton said, once again employing the quiet tone he’d used earlier. She noted they didn’t turn toward each other or really look at each other either, at least not at the same time. It was as though they were continuing their private tête-à-tête from the other night. “Have you truly been ill?”

“I’m afraid I did have a touch of a cold.”

He frowned. “I shouldn’t have spent so much time talking with you. I beg your forgiveness.”

She heard the genuine regret in his voice and wanted to alleviate his guilt. “There’s nothing to forgive. If not for you, I might still be on that terrace.” She injected the last with a humorous tone.

He looked toward her, and their gazes connected for a brief moment. She felt a jolt, not unlike the buzz of electricity she got in the winter when she walked across a carpet. “Then it’s a good thing I was standing by the terrace door.”

“Indeed.” She tried to imagine what she might have done if it had been someone else—say Lindsell. She inwardly shuddered at the thought. As she’d stood on that terrace, she’d spent several minutes weighing whether to address Sutton. He’d been talking to someone, an older woman—his aunt, she thought. Aquilla’s gaze traversed the table until it landed on the woman in question. Yes, his aunt. Aquilla hadn’t wanted to interrupt them and had hoped he would be the one to walk away so that she could ask the kind-looking older woman for help instead. When she’d left, however, Aquilla, quickly growing chilled to the very bone, had thrown caution to the increasingly cold wind and asked for his assistance.

It had been a risky thing, but fortunately for her, he’d turned out to be quite a gentleman. She suddenly felt bad for labeling him the Duke of Deception.

But then her mother’s admonition pealed in her head: Trust no man. Ever. Their true nature will always reveal itself. And that true nature was dark and terrible—from her mother’s account and from everything Aquilla had seen.

A footman noted Aquilla’s empty wineglass and refilled it with the Madeira.

Lindsell turned to her once more, his lips pursed. “A second glass?”

Aquilla blinked. She hadn’t asked for it, but neither did it come amiss. Did Lindsell have a problem with women drinking more than a single glass of wine? She noted that he was nearly finished with his second. She reached for her glass and took a sip. “It’s quite delicious.” She took another longer drink for added effect before setting it back on the table. Lowering her voice, she looked at him intently. “I do love wine. Almost as much as talking. In fact, if I had to choose, I’m not sure I could.” She lifted her gaze to the ceiling as if she were considering this very important matter.

“I should hope you are jesting. If you drink as much as you talk—”

He cut himself off, but Aquilla snapped her gaze back to his, widening her eyes. Then she giggled, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Oh, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it? All right then, I’ll have to concede the wine is a very close second.” She tittered again and took another sip of wine for good measure.

Lindsell winced as he watched her drink, and she could see that he was uncomfortable. “Might I advise you to drink less wine, particularly in polite company.”

Since imbibing wasn’t something she cared to do, especially in polite company, she nodded effusively. “Of course. I only overindulge at home. In fact, I also enjoy sweets. One might even say I’m a glutton.” She whispered the last word and adopted a horrified look before giggling again.

His gaze flicked ever so quickly to her middle, but she caught it. “I’m shocked to hear it. You’ve gone too long without a husband. Perhaps that will change in the near future.” He smiled meaningfully at her, his eyes twinkling in the light of the candles hanging above them.

Aquilla clenched her teeth. Of course. A husband—perhaps even him, if he was hinting at that—would cure her of her faults. She gave him her sweetest, falsest smile. “Going without a husband isn’t such a terrible thing.”

His eyes rounded briefly, and his mouth turned down into a subtle frown. “Spoken like someone who merely needs a loving yoke.”

Aquilla nearly sputtered. Thankfully, the footman arrived to remove their plates and set the next course. She took the opportunity to engross herself in her food. She also revised her opinion of Lindsell—he was distasteful.

“Pheasant is more to your liking?” Sutton asked.

“Yes.” Though she would’ve eaten anything on her plate to keep from talking to the infuriating Lindsell. Perhaps learning to eat everything hadn’t been such a worthless endeavor.

“How do you find your other dinner companion?” He inclined his head toward Lindsell.

She bit back her true answer. “Fine.”

“Is he courting you?”

She turned her head and blinked at him. People didn’t typically speak quite that directly. She didn’t dislike it. “Not formally, no.” She tipped her head to the side. “What of Miss Forth-Hodges? Are you enjoying her company?”

He didn’t immediately answer, instead pressing his lips together. “It’s fine.”

Aquilla nearly laughed at his identical assessment. “And are you courting her?” She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Do I need to warn her that you’re the Duke of Deception?”

His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

She could tell that she’d upset him. “Of course not. It’s not as if she isn’t aware of your reputation anyway.” Unless she was a complete dunderhead, in which case she hoped he would steer clear of her. “My apologies, my lord. I was teasing.”

He exhaled, his features relaxing into a serene expression. “I should have realized.”

“Why? We don’t know each other well.”

He forked a bit of asparagus. “I suppose that’s true.”

Did his voice carry a hint of disappointment? Did he wish to know her better? That was absurd. He was likely courting Miss Forth-Hodges, and he was an Untouchable—in other words, there was absolutely no reason he might wish to deepen their acquaintance. He was only speaking with her because it was the polite thing to do given their proximity.

Lindsell leaned toward her slightly. “Miss Knox, isn’t the veal delightful?”

Chapter Three

Dinner drew to a merciful end at last. Ned was more than eager to withdraw. He’d felt trapped next to Miss Forth-Hodges and had been grateful for Miss Knox’s presence.

He darted a glance toward the latter young woman. Dark curls brushed her temple, and one fell behind the pale, delicate shell of her ear. The line of her jaw was graceful yet strong. He’d spent far too much time studying her tonight. He hoped no one noticed.

His gaze traveled to his aunt across the table and up a few seats. She was watching him with interest. So much for his hope that no one had noticed.

The women departed the dining room, leaving the men to their port. Ned didn’t particularly want to stay, but he also couldn’t very well leave. He needed to spend time talking with Mr. Forth-Hodges, just as Aunt Susannah would spend time with his wife and daughter in the drawing room. This was the second to last test. If Miss Forth-Hodges’s family met his expectations, she could move on to the final obstacle. Only one other woman had made it that far, and by that point, Ned had formed a fairly good idea of whether she would pass the final task. She hadn’t, and really, he hadn’t expected her to. In retrospect, he supposed it had been cruel to subject her to it, but it was necessary. Marriage to him would not be for the weak-willed or easily distraught.

Before Ned could move closer to Mr. Forth-Hodges, the man stood and took the seat his daughter had vacated. A footman delivered port around the table.

“Good evening, my lord,” Mr. Forth-Hodges said. “I trust you had a pleasant meal. Emmaline looked to be enjoying herself.” He smiled, his jowls pulling.

Ned picked up his glass and sipped his port. “I particularly liked the pheasant.”

Mr. Forth-Hodges took a drink of his port and set it back on the table, though he kept his hand curled around the base of his glass. “I did too, I did too.” With his free hand, he patted his rather round midsection. “But then I’ve never met a pheasant—or cod or mutton—I didn’t like.” He laughed but quickly sobered when Ned didn’t join him. “You’re more of an athletic sort, I gather.”

Ned inclined his head. “Yes.”

Mr. Forth-Hodges nodded in response. “Emmaline has an excellent seat. Been riding since she was four years old. Fell off and broke her arm when she was eight. I thought her mother was going to have a fit of apoplexy.”

Ned smiled. “Falling is part of learning to ride. I fell many times, though I was lucky not to break anything.”

“Didn’t stop our girl, though. She got right back on her horse a few months later.” He beamed with pride.

Ned was glad to hear that she possessed such mettle. Perhaps she would satisfy his criteria. Why then was he feeling a trifle disappointed? Because he wasn’t very enthusiastic about her, he realized. He liked her fine, but to take her to wife…to take her to bed… He didn’t feel an attraction toward her.

“Are your other daughters as intrepid?” Ned asked. Mr. Forth-Hodges had three daughters and one son, all of whom were older than Emmaline and already married. Aunt Susannah had gathered a good deal of information at the meeting she’d attended with Mrs. Forth-Hodges earlier.

Mr. Forth-Hodges shook his head. “No, no. Emmaline came late to us as a bit of a surprise, so she’s a good deal younger than her siblings. She’s quite independent.” He flicked Ned a worried glance, as if he might find that trait off-putting. He didn’t. In fact, he preferred a woman who would stand free of her family and would devote herself entirely to her new role as his countess. He couldn’t chance a wife whose primary fealty wasn’t to him. His life was far too complicated, and there was simply too much at risk.

Mr. Forth-Hodges coughed. “I should clarify that she’s an agreeable and biddable young woman. Since she is our youngest by several years, she and my wife are quite close.”

That gave Ned pause. This was merely Mr. Forth-Hodges’s observation, of course, and he could be exaggerating things. Ned would rely on Aunt Susannah’s investigation to corroborate this.

The loud, deep voice of Lord Lighton cut across the table. “Harold, do come and settle an argument about who makes a better whisky.”

Mr. Forth-Hodges—Harold—turned his head and chuckled. “All right.” He looked at Ned and said, “Please excuse me.”

Ned, satisfied that he’d learned what he needed to, at least for tonight, nodded. “Of course.”

After a healthy drink of port, Ned contemplated how much longer they’d have to sit here. As soon as they removed to the drawing room, he’d hopefully collect his aunt and leave.

Lindsell, a gentleman a few years younger than Ned but who looked far younger, moved over next to him, taking the chair Miss Knox had occupied. “’Evening, Sutton,” he said before sipping his port.

“’Evening, Lindsell.”

The baron held up his glass and squinted at the ruby liquid. “Excellent port.”

Ned said nothing, wondering if the man just meant to make inane comments or if he planned to engage in actual conversation. Ned had tried to listen to what he and Miss Knox were discussing but had picked up only bits and pieces, not enough to follow along. She’d said they weren’t courting, but perhaps Lindsell was moving in that direction. Would she be in favor of that?

Hell, why should he care? Because he found her intriguing. Far more so than any other young woman he’d put to his test.

Lindsell set his glass down and leaned toward Ned, keeping his voice low as his gaze flicked toward Mr. Forth-Hodges, who was now seated across the table. “It seems you have your sights set on Miss Forth-Hodges. Think she’ll actually pass muster?”

Ned was used to certain gentlemen asking him about his habit of looking as though he was going to marry and then not, but Lindsell had never been one of them. Ned knew that people talked, it was the nature of Society, and while he found it annoying, there was nothing he could do about it. Save not give them fodder, which, as counterintuitive as it sounded, he was trying to do by being meticulous about selecting a wife. She had to be capable of embracing George and keeping him from Society’s notice. People generally didn’t understand—or tolerate—the insane.

“We are not formally courting,” Ned said. He was always careful not to make any formal declarations while he carried out his process.

“Right, but you’re still eyeing her, obviously. Well, I hope Miss Forth-Hodges proves to be the one.” He sipped his port again. “I’m looking at Miss Knox, myself. She’s a bit eccentric, but she’s been on the market a long time. I daresay she’s eager to make a match.”

Was she eccentric? He’d have to see for himself. He supposed she was a bit out of the ordinary given the predicament that had forced their introduction, but he liked that she was unique.

“I can overlook her quirkiness if I just focus on her loveliness.” Lindsell took another drink of his port, almost finishing it before setting it back on the table with enough force that the remaining liquid sloshed up the sides of the glass. “Damn me, but she’s beautiful. I can’t believe some man hasn’t swept her up despite the fact that she’ll bore you to tears with her nonsensical chatter.”

Ned suppressed the urge to smash his fist into Lindsell’s drawling mouth. It was obvious he’d had a bit too much to drink; otherwise, Ned might have let his fist fly. He didn’t suffer men who insulted women. His lip curling, he tossed a glare at Lindsell’s glass. “Seems as though you’ve maybe had enough tonight.”

“Eh?” Lindsell frowned at his port. “Tasty stuff. I must commend Durant.” He threw back what was left in his glass and stood. He strode toward the head of the table, where Durant was conversing with Lord Isley. Ned glared daggers at the man’s back.

“Good evening, Sutton.”

Ned turned his head to see Lord Satterfield standing next to his chair. “’Evening, Satterfield.”

“May I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair Lindsell had just abandoned.

“Yes, of course.” Ned eyed him warily, wondering what he’d done to draw the earl’s attention. They were only superficially acquainted, and the only reason Ned could think Satterfield would seek him out was due to his ward—Miss Knox.

“Capital dinner party,” Satterfield said as he dropped into the chair with his port.

“Yes.” Ned finished his drink and set his empty glass on the table. He was more than ready to move to the drawing room.

“You were seated next to Miss Knox. She’s our ward, you must know. We’ve grown quite fond of her this Season.”

Ned wanted to ask why they were sponsoring her. Had something happened to her parents? “She’s a charming young lady.”

Satterfield contemplated his glass for a moment and when he at last spoke, his voice was low and gruff. “I wanted to ensure that nothing adverse would come of what happened the other night. We appreciate your assistance.” He looked at Ned with more question than appreciation.

Ned wanted to put the man at ease. “You needn’t be concerned. Miss Knox’s welfare was—and still is—my primary goal. I only sought to help her in a desperate situation. I do think we handled it as best as possible.” Really, he dared the man to come up with a better outcome. No one was aware of anything. Ned suddenly wondered how much Satterfield knew. Had Miss Knox told them of their extended conversation, of his lending her his coat?

He rather hoped not. But perhaps that was why the earl was here expressing his concern.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “You acted very quickly. Thank you.” He shook his head, smiling before sipping his port. “I can’t imagine what she was thinking dashing out of the ballroom like that.”

Ned bit back his defense of her before he exposed just how much time he’d spent with Miss Knox. “I’m sure she had a good reason.”

“Perhaps. To be young again, I suppose.” He exhaled. “She’s a good sort. I hope we’ll be able to find her settled before the end of the Season. It looks as though Lindsell may come up to scratch, which would be a boon for her.”

The hell it would. Ned couldn’t let that comment go without addressing it. “I’m certain she could do better. Lindsell is a fool, and I’d wager he would not have rescued Miss Knox as discreetly as I did the other night.”

Satterfield’s brows drew together, and he looked at Ned sharply. “Is that so? I hadn’t heard anything untoward about his reputation.”

“I don’t think it’s well known.” In fact, Ned wouldn’t have made this observation if the cretin hadn’t insulted Miss Knox a few minutes ago. “I’m not certain his opinion of women is tolerable. This is not a rumor but my own deduction after conversing with him.”

“Egad, I’m glad you said something. I will take this under advisement, thank you.”

At last, Lord Durant stood and announced it was time to repair to the drawing room. Ned exhaled with relief.

“Excellent chatting with you,” Satterfield said as he got to his feet.

“Likewise.” Ned stood, straightening his coat, and gestured for Satterfield to precede him.

They filed out and entered the drawing room, where the ladies were seated in small groups. Ned’s gaze went immediately to a settee in the corner, where not his aunt, nor Miss Forth-Hodges, but Miss Knox was seated. She chose that precise moment to look toward the doorway, and their eyes connected. She looked a bit surprised, and he felt that same emotion, as if he’d just received a gift he hadn’t asked for but was nonetheless delighted to receive.

Most peculiar.

He looked for his aunt, finding her in another grouping with Miss Forth-Hodges and Mrs. Forth-Hodges. Aunt Susannah’s eyes met his, and she nodded imperceptibly before excusing herself and standing.

Ned moved into the room to an unpopulated area near the darkened windows facing out into the back garden. Aunt Susannah joined him there, frowning slightly. “You look annoyed.”

“Do I?” Because he was, but he hadn’t meant to show it. This evening had left him feeling unsettled.

Ned wiped a hand over his face. “My apologies. I’m afraid Lindsell irritated me following dinner.”

“Indeed? How so?”

“He insulted one of the young women. I can’t tolerate that.”

“No, you can’t. Was it Miss Forth-Hodges? I can see how that would trouble you.”

His gaze flicked toward Miss Knox. “No, it wasn’t.” He seized the opportunity to move to that topic. “How was your conversation with her and her mother?”

“It went quite well. She’s a very charming young woman—truly the best one yet. I do think you may have your match.”

“Actually, I believe it’s time to conclude the evaluation.”

Aunt Susannah’s light blue eyes sparked with glee. “That’s wonderful. I’m delighted for you.”

“I think you misunderstand. My interest in Miss Forth-Hodges is at an end.”

Her gaze dimmed, and she gaped for a brief moment before pressing her lips together. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Don’t you want to hear what I learned about their relationship?”

“It won’t signify. I spoke with her father, and while I appreciate her charm and nerve, I’m concerned that she and her mother are too close. I can’t risk Miss Forth-Hodges sharing the truth about George with her mother. I can’t be certain she’d keep our secret.”

“I do understand your reservations. You have to be completely comfortable with your bride and her family situation.” Still, she sounded disappointed.

Ned glanced around. “We can’t discuss this here.” Besides, they’d completely belabored the topic over the years. Aunt Susannah bore the burden of his family’s secret with relative ease, but then it hardly affected her the way it did him.

A footman approached them, his expression serious. “Excuse me, Lord Sutton?”

Ned pivoted toward him. “Yes?”

The retainer offered him a folded parchment. “This just arrived for you. It is urgent.”

Ned’s heart immediately started to pound as blood rushed through his ears, momentarily deafening him. “Thank you.” Somehow, the words came out calm and normal in spite of the tempest that had kicked up inside him. He opened the paper, afraid of what it might say. If his butler had directed the missive be sent here, the news must be dire. He read the short message and closed his eyes briefly, his pulse slowing a bit, but not completely.

“What is it?” Aunt Susannah’s tone echoed his own distress.

“George believes the house is under siege. Dr. Paget is doing his best but has requested I come at once.”

She touched his arm. “Do you need me to come with you?”

Ned shook his head. “I’ll go now and send a note as soon as I know more. You can come tomorrow if necessary. I’ll send the coach back here later tonight to fetch you.”

“Thank you.” She looked up at him with love and concern. “It will be all right.”

Ned stroked her arm fondly before locating Lord Durant to say good night. As Ned made his way to the door, he once again looked toward Miss Knox. She was deep in conversation with another woman. He wished she would turn her head. No, he wished he could bid her good evening.

Reluctantly, he turned and left the house. A short while later, after exchanging his coach for his horse, he was racing south toward Sutton Park.

The situation didn’t sound ominous and certainly wasn’t as terrible as what George was capable of. It had been well over a decade since he’d set fire to the house, when he’d irrevocably changed all their lives. Ned wasn’t sure what he would do if something similar happened. He couldn’t allow him to return to Bethlehem Hospital.

Anxiety about George warred with a mild sense of anticipation. He’d typically wait before turning his attention to another young woman, but Miss Knox was there. She was lovely, unique, and Satterfield had indicated that she should find a husband this Season. Ned couldn’t let that be Lindsell. Was that the reason spurring his interest—a desire to save her from Lindsell?

Perhaps, but it was only one facet. She’d intrigued him the other night. He liked her lack of guile and sharp mind. He already knew that she met his most basic criteria—she was over the age of twenty-one, and this was not her first Season. She possessed the maturity and experience to hopefully be discreet and make sound decisions.

For the first time in ages, maybe ever, he looked forward to this process. And he genuinely hoped Miss Knox would turn out to be what he was searching for.

Wind splattered rain against the window, drawing Aquilla’s attention momentarily away from the letter in her hand. Tossing a scowl at the nasty weather, she returned to the missive and quickly devoured the remaining words penned by her dear friend Lucy. She was beyond happy in her new married life, but missed Aquilla and their other friend Ivy. Aquilla missed her too, but took solace in the fact that she had Ivy and that she would be arriving shortly—provided this storm didn’t delay her.

Lady Satterfield breezed into the sitting room, her gaze settling on Aquilla, who was seated near the windows in her favorite high-backed chair. “There you are, dear. Aren’t you expecting company?”

“Yes, Ivy will be here soon.”

The countess smiled. “Lovely.” She glanced at the window and shook her head. “What a ghastly spring we’re having. Is it just me, or has it gotten worse in the past couple of weeks?”

“It’s not just you,” Aquilla said. “I quite concur.” They’d had to cancel more than one outdoor excursion—a picnic and a pilgrimage to Hampton Court.

Lady Satterfield perched on the settee and angled herself toward Aquilla. “I wanted to talk with you about the dinner party last night. Did you have a nice time?”

“I did, thank you.” Aquilla wasn’t precisely fibbing—she did have a pleasant evening for the most part, especially when she considered the time she spent talking with Lord Sutton at dinner.

There was a beat of silence as Lady Satterfield seemed to gather her words. “Is that due to Lord Lindsell?” There was a hint of a wince in the creases around her mouth that led Aquilla to believe Lady Satterfield had perhaps formed a negative opinion about Lindsell. Aquilla could only hope.

“Not particularly, actually.”

The countess exhaled. “I’m glad to hear it. Lord Satterfield has heard that Lindsell may not be particularly…complimentary when it comes to the fairer sex.”

“If you mean he’s an imbecile, then yes.” She nearly clapped her hand over her mouth, but decided the countess knew her well enough by now for her to speak her mind. And she should be honest. About everything. Her throat tightened. She needed to tell Lady Satterfield the truth, that she didn’t want to find a husband. But then she’d have to return home, and heaven knew she’d rather go just about anywhere besides Henlow House.

She wouldn’t have to if she could find a position as a companion like Ivy. Today, she meant to ask for her help. In the meantime, she ought to keep up her ruse—until she had a plan. Still, she hated lying to Lady Satterfield, who absolutely didn’t deserve such treatment after the kindness and generosity she’d shown Aquilla. More than lying to her, however, she was afraid of disappointing her.

Lady Satterfield smiled at her characterization of Lindsell. “Yes, an imbecile indeed. We shall move on, then. There are plenty of other bachelor gentlemen.”

It was the perfect opening…

Aquilla opened her mouth just as Harley, the butler, came into the room and announced Ivy’s arrival. He stepped aside, and Ivy came in, her stride purposeful. She slowed as her gaze landed on Lady Satterfield, and she dipped a brief curtsey. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

“Good afternoon, Ivy. It’s a pleasure to see you.” Lady Satterfield adjusted her cap as she stood. “I’ll leave you two girls to visit.” She smiled at Aquilla, her eyes glowing with warmth, before leaving.

Ivy watched her go before drawing her gloves off and setting them on the table near the settee. “You are so fortunate the countess took you under her wing. She’s such a lovely person.”

Guilt ate at Aquilla’s insides. She’d been about to tell her the truth—and she would. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to a more serene state. And changed the subject.

“I’m so glad you made it here in spite of the storm.” Aquilla took in Ivy’s costume, the hem of which was a bit wet. “You don’t look any worse for it.”

Ivy patted the back of her reddish-blond hair and swept her hand down her neck before rubbing her palms together. “It’s quite horrid, but I was determined to come. Lady Dunn was, of course, satisfied to stay at home. I left her with a warming pan and the latest issue of La Belle Assemblée.” Lady Dunn was Ivy’s employer of the past few months, a widow in her mid-sixties.

Ivy perched on the settee and looked toward Aquilla, her lips curving into a half smile. “Do tell me all about last night’s dinner party. Was Lindsell there?”

Aquilla nearly did what she always did—pretend it was a smashing success and that she was one step closer to her goal of finding a husband. But the lie had grown stale. No, it was worse than that: it had mildewed and was now quite rancid. “Lindsell is an ass.” She felt freer to use a more colorful term with her friend, and damn, it felt good.

Ivy’s green eyes widened. “Goodness, Aquilla, I don’t know that I’ve ever heard you say such a thing.” She chuckled. “I think I like it.”

The stress tightening Aquilla’s frame into a rigid mass dissipated. She surrendered to laughter too. When they’d sobered, Ivy cocked her head to the side. “What’s going on?”

Resolute in her decision to be truthful, Aquilla stood and moved to sit beside Ivy. “I’d like your help with something.”

Ivy’s brow knitted. “Anything. Of course.”

“I’d like to become a companion. Like you.”

Ivy’s eyes rounded again, and her mouth formed an O for the briefest of moments before she recovered her composure. “I’m not sure I understand. I’ve known you over five years, and you’ve been committed to finding a husband. With the help of Lady Satterfield and Nora, you’re closer now than ever before.”

Nora. She was Lady Satterfield’s stepdaughter-in-law and the reason the countess had sponsored Aquilla in the first place. The duchess—who’d asked them to call her Nora—had been Lady Satterfield’s ward five years ago. The countess had first hired her as a companion and quickly decided that Nora deserved a second chance at having a Season. Nora had weathered a scandal nine years prior, but that hadn’t stopped her from enjoying a triumphant return and subsequently marrying the Duke of Kendal, Lady Satterfield’s stepson.

When Aquilla’s parents refused to fund any more seasons, Nora had wanted to give Aquilla the same opportunity. Instead of Nora sponsoring her however, Lady Satterfield had eagerly offered to take her in at the start of the Season. If not for her, Aquilla would be at Henlow House suffering the cold, antagonistic atmosphere engendered by her parents.

“Yes, and that would be lovely if I actually wanted to marry. However, I do not.”

This time, Ivy actually gaped at her. “You don’t? But you’ve always said—”

Another wave of guilt assaulted Aquilla. “Yes, I’ve led everyone to believe—including you and Lucy—that I wanted to marry. And I did. Once. But not for some time.”

Ivy studied her a moment, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. “I’ve often wondered why you’ve been unsuccessful for so long. You possess all the attributes that would entice a man to marry.”

Aquilla arched a brow at her. “Perhaps, but I also possess a penchant for talking, and generally behaving like a…scatterbrain.”

Ivy’s mouth opened once more, and she lifted her hand to cover it in awe. After a moment, she dropped her hand to her lap. “It was all an act.”

Pride briefly swelled through Aquilla until it was swallowed once more with the familiar guilt, though it wasn’t quite as strong as before. “Not at first. Those first couple of seasons, I really was a disaster. I was nervous and anxious and so desperate.” She laughed, recalling how awkward she’d felt and behaved. “Once I realized I didn’t want to marry, I relaxed. But then a few gentlemen seemed interested, so I decided I’d best resume acting like a blockhead if I wanted to stave off their advances.”

“How diabolical.” The admiration in Ivy’s tone gave Aquilla another burst of pride. “That sounds like something I would do. If it were necessary. Thankfully, it is not, due to my station.” As a companion. Aquilla and Lucy had sometimes wondered from what station Ivy had originated, but she’d never identified her family. Indeed, she’d spoken of them only with extreme distaste and only very rarely. It was, quite clearly, a subject she disliked. Since Aquilla felt similarly about her own family, she’d never pressed and would certainly never judge.

“That is precisely why I would like to become a companion,” Aquilla said. “That way, I can avoid the Marriage Mart entirely.”

Ivy tipped her head to the side, her green gaze scrutinizing Aquilla thoughtfully. “May I ask why you changed your mind about marriage? If you don’t wish to say, I shan’t trouble you about it.”

Aquilla considered sharing the entire truth, but to do so would expose intimate details about her family, and she didn’t wish to do that. Also, discussing it made her uncomfortable, and there were memories she preferred to leave buried and nearly forgotten.

“Suffice it to say I prefer to be independent. I’ve yet to make the acquaintance of any gentleman who didn’t make me want to run screaming in the other direction.” For some reason, the image of Lord Sutton rose in her mind, and she realized she’d failed to put on her “act” for him. He’d rescued her from the rain, and in her vulnerability, she’d behaved normally. Or maybe it had been because he’d been kind and courteous and helpful. It didn’t really matter since she’d likely never interact with him again.

“Unsurprising,” Ivy murmured. “I won’t pretend this makes me unhappy. As you know, I find marriage to be a vastly overrated estate.”

More accurately, Ivy found men to be vastly overrated. Aquilla had expected her support and wasn’t disappointed. “Indeed.”

Ivy smiled as she reached over and took Aquilla’s hand. Her fingers were still cool from being out in the storm. “I’d be happy to help you become a companion. Perhaps one of Lady Dunn’s friends is in want, and then we’ll be able to continue our friendship.”

Aquilla would like that. She didn’t particularly want to move to some far-off place. “I do hope to find employment here in Town.”

Ivy’s smile faded. “Are your parents in support of this, or does that even matter?”

Given that Ivy never spoke of her family, it had always appeared to Aquilla that Ivy was on her own, which wasn’t the case with Aquilla. She had parents and brothers and could likely lead a life of dependent spinsterhood. But she didn’t want that, especially not with her family. She supposed her younger brother, Ralph, who’d married last year would take her in, but she didn’t wish to move to Ireland.

To answer Ivy’s question as to whether her parents would support her decision…she wasn’t sure. But since they were no longer interested in funding Seasons to find a husband, she couldn’t imagine they’d be opposed. She was a worthless disappointment to them anyway.

Aquilla squeezed Ivy’s hand before releasing it. “They will be relieved, I think.” She smoothed her hand over her knee. “Tell me what I must do.”

Ivy straightened, assuming a businesslike posture and pursing her lips briefly. “I have a few contacts. Let me make some inquiries. What of Lady Satterfield? What does she say about this?”

The full force of Aquilla’s guilt scalded her, making her cheeks burn.

“She doesn’t know,” Ivy said quietly.

“Not yet. I feel terrible for accepting her offer for this Season.” Yet she’d leapt upon it immediately. The alternative—returning to Henslow House—made her shudder inwardly. She’d come to Town to visit with Lucy, who’d lived with her grandmother, but had been about to return to her parents’ home since they’d told her she wouldn’t be having a Season this year. When Lady Satterfield had offered her sponsorship, Aquilla’s parents’ response had been to tell her she’d better make the most of it and that it would be a further embarrassment if the countess went to all of this trouble and Aquilla still emerged without a husband. Yes, she felt terrible about deceiving Lady Satterfield, but it was preferable to being at home.

“She’s an exceedingly kind person,” Ivy said. “Tell her the truth, and she will understand.”

The truth. The version she’d told Ivy or the actual truth?

Aquilla wasn’t sure she could do the latter, even if she wanted to. “I’ll talk to her, but in the meantime, please keep this between us.”

“Of course. Just let me know when you’d like to proceed.” The edge of her mouth ticked up in a half smile. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in you going to the Overton ball tomorrow night.”

Blast, Aquilla had completely forgotten about that. Lady Satterfield had been looking forward to that for weeks. She couldn’t possibly tell her about her change of plans until afterward. But she would—right after.

She laughed softly. “There’s never been any point to any of this. Not really.”

Ivy nodded. “Truer words have never been said.”

Chapter Four

What was left of the door to George’s sitting room hung haphazardly from the frame. Voices spilled into the corridor, but they were faint enough so that they were likely coming from George’s bedchamber, which was beyond the sitting room.

Ned stepped over the threshold and surveyed the disarray left over after last night’s “siege.” George had pushed a settee, two chairs, a pair of tables, and a small desk up against the door to keep the “invaders” out. They’d had to chop through the door and climb over the barricade to get inside. They being Ned and Dr. Paget, with the assistance of two footmen who regularly helped with George.

After speeding on horseback from London, Ned had arrived to a scene of chaos: George shouting from his sitting room where he’d declared “war” on the invading force (that of course didn’t exist) and Dr. Paget trying to soothe him (unsuccessfully) from the corridor.

Ned had immediately stepped into the situation, talking to George through the door. It had taken him a moment to recognize Ned’s voice, but after that, he’d begun to calm. Even so, they hadn’t been able to convince him to open the door for a good quarter hour, after which he’d finally agreed to let Ned’s “battalion” come to “rescue” him.

The furniture remained in the barricade, though it had been pushed back from the door. They’d wanted to make sure George was feeling more himself before they made too much noise.

Ned walked around it and approached the door to George’s bedchamber, which stood ajar. Inside, George was just climbing into bed while Dr. Paget looked on.

“Ned!” George’s eyes lit as he caught sight of Ned. “Come in, please.”

Ned pushed the door open and stepped into the dim bedchamber. The draperies on three of the four windows remained closed, while the fourth was only partially open. It was a gray, dreary day, so the light that made its way into the room was milky and poor. But it was enough to see, and George loathed brightness.

Ned smiled as he moved toward the bed. “Good afternoon. You’ve finished luncheon?”

“Just.” George curled his lip and stuck his tongue out as he darted a glance at Dr. Paget. “He made me eat the most vile soup.”

Ned glanced toward Dr. Paget, who only shrugged.

A slight, olive-skinned man in his early thirties with thick, dark hair and piercing sable eyes, the doctor was a relatively new addition to their household. George hadn’t liked him at first, but they seemed to be doing much better the past several weeks. Dr. Paget was nothing if not persistent, patient, and compassionate. So far, Ned was pleased with the man’s performance, especially that he was able to get George to eat soup. George sometimes refused to eat anything but sweets and oranges.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Ned said.

George looked up at him from the bed, his eyes surprisingly lucid, as they hadn’t been since Ned’s arrival last night. “You didn’t taste it.”

Ned chuckled. “Fair enough.”

George yawned. “I’m suddenly quite tired.” He narrowed his eyes toward Dr. Paget. “Is this some sort of sorcery? You suggested I nap, and I’m suddenly eager to do so.”

Dr. Paget held up his hands. “No magic here. I could tell you were sleepy.”

“Harrumph.” George pulled up the covers to his chin and squeezed his eyes closed.

Ned watched George for a moment and resisted the urge to smooth the blond hair back from his widow’s peak.

Dr. Paget made a slight sound, drawing Ned’s attention. The Frenchman inclined his head toward the door and made his way in that direction.

Ned followed him from the room but didn’t close the door to the bedchamber. They moved farther into the sitting room, and Dr. Paget turned.

“He’s doing much better, don’t you agree?” Dr. Paget asked. His English was excellent, without any trace of a French accent. But then he’d fled his homeland when he was just a lad during the Terror.

“Yes.” Ned shook his head. “He had a very clear moment there. I’m not sure what you’re doing, but please continue.”

George was often lucid, but when he had an episode like last night’s, he was typically in a dream world for days. He didn’t recognize people consistently, and he drifted in and out of a state of unawareness in which his eyes were open but he almost seemed asleep. It was unnerving, and Ned worried he might lapse into that condition one day and never recover.

Dr. Paget clasped his hands behind his back and glanced toward the barricade. “That was an exciting affair last night. I’m so glad you arrived and were able to convince him to stand down.”

“I appreciate you sending for me. I’m glad the episode concluded without incident.”

George was mostly harmless. Mostly. Ned had to use that qualifier because George had set the house on fire fifteen years ago, when Ned had been fourteen. It had destroyed part of the east wing, but Ned’s father had repaired it after he’d sent George away.

“Indeed,” Dr. Paget said. “He does miss you while you’re gone.”

Ned was glad that London was less than two hours away so that he could come home as often as necessary, even during the Season. “Do you really think he notices all that much? He seems to lapse into his semiconscious states more and more.”

“I understand your concern, but I do think he’s fully conscious even when it seems he’s not. He’s a very intelligent man. I believe he gets lost in his thoughts.”

Ned nodded. He understood that notion and was frightened by it at the same time. “I sometimes think he won’t find his way back.”

Dr. Paget looked pained for a moment. “There is so much we don’t know about the mind.”

They had only to look at their king—if anything could have been done to cure him, it surely would have.

“All we can do is explore it,” Dr. Paget continued, “like uncharted territory. We’re having good success right now with focusing him on writing poetry and drawing.”

Ned was pleased to hear it. George was smart and, at times, as witty and charming as he’d been when they were boys. He was still, and always would be, the brother Ned adored.

“Excellent. I’m pleased to hear it,” Ned said.

Dr. Paget gave a slight bow. “When will you be returning to London, my lord?”

“In the morning. I have a few commitments tomorrow. I plan to spend the evening with George. I promised him a game of backgammon.” Their grandfather had taught them the game when they were in the nursery and it had been a favorite all their lives. It reminded Ned of their youth, of happier times. When George had been well.

Dr. Paget grinned. “He’ll like that. He seems to enjoy playing with you.” He looked toward the barricade once more. “I suppose I should have the footman come tidy this up while George is sleeping. We’ll do so as quietly as possible.”

“Thank you. I’m just going to peek in on him before I go,” Ned said.

Dr. Paget inclined his head before departing the sitting room. Ned went back to the bedchamber and crept inside, making his way to the side of the bed. George lay on his back, his eyes closed. This time, Ned brushed the blond hair—a few shades lighter than his own and much thinner—back from George’s forehead.

George’s lids fluttered open, and he squinted up at Ned, but there was no recognition in his eyes. “Who are you?”

Though Ned was used to George not knowing him sometimes, it never failed to carve a tiny hole in his heart. “It’s Ned.”

“Oh, Ned.” George smiled, and his cheeks pulled taut. Little lines fanned out from his blue-gray eyes. “Ned…” His eyes shuttered.

Ned bent down and kissed his brother’s cheek. “Lemon cakes,” he whispered.

George’s eyes remained closed, but his lips curved into a familiar, beloved smile. “Lemon cakes. Yes, Ned. Lemon cakes.”

Those had been their favorite sweet. Cook, who’d passed long ago, had made them twice a week and always ensured Ned and George had the first batch while they were still warm. “Lemon cakes” had been something they’d uttered to each other as a gesture of comfort. A sort of “I love you” for boys who wouldn’t dare say such a thing to each other. It had started at Cook’s funeral. They’d been devastated, holding hands for mutual support, when George had leaned close and murmured, “Lemon cakes. I shall never forget her lemon cakes.”

George’s breathing deepened, and Ned knew he’d fallen asleep.

Ned tiptoed from the room and gently closed the door before heading downstairs. On the way to his office, he was intercepted by Aunt Susannah as she emerged from the drawing room. She’d arrived before luncheon, and Ned was glad to have her here. Since he’d lost his mother over a decade ago, she’d filled in for her sister, offering guidance and love when he’d needed them most.

“Goodness, Ned, you look pale. Come and sit with me. You need tea.” She tucked her arm through his and ushered him into the drawing room with the force of a tenacious mother cat that would not be denied.

As he took the wingback chair, she rang for more tea, then claimed a place at the end of the settee. Pivoting toward him, she gazed upon him with motherly concern. “How is George?”

Ned stretched out his legs and took a deep breath to expel the stress from his frame. “Calmer today. He’s sleeping.”

“I’m so relieved. You must be too.”

The butler came in and refreshed the tea. Aunt Susannah poured out, and Ned eagerly took a long, fortifying sip. He set his cup down on the table and leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes momentarily as he waited for what she would say next. He knew there was more coming.

“I wondered if you and Dr. Paget discussed moving George.” This was a conversation they’d had many times and more often of late. He could guess what was coming. “The York Retreat is much different from Bethlehem,” she said.

Ned opened his eyes and looked at his aunt. He knew her heart was in the right place, but she wasn’t responsible for George’s well-being. Ned was. “Yes, it’s different.” Better in so many ways, but after the horrors of Bethlehem, he wasn’t ready to let George out of his care. Not yet, anyway, and maybe not ever. “But I’m still not sending him there.”

She looked mildly beleaguered—like a true mother whose child was making her cross—but only for a moment. “It is, of course, up to you. But I do think you might try it. You could even stay somewhere close by at first—just to be sure. Then you could come home and get on with your life.”

He knew she thought it would be best if George were away from Sutton Park so that Ned could take a wife without having to make sure she could support George’s presence. “And what about after I left him at the facility? You see what happens when I’m not here.” Episodes of this magnitude almost never occurred when he was at home.

She nodded, her gaze trailing off to the tea tray. “Yes. Just as I see how dedicated you are. However, you mustn’t let him control your life.” She turned her attention back to him, her eyes—the same shade of blue his mother’s had been—piercing. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve a wife and children. You need those things to preserve the title.”

He looked at her in mild amusement. “It’s not as if I’m not looking.”

She allowed a small smile. “Yes, but it’s been years now, and you’re no closer to finding a countess. I sometimes wonder if this test you’ve concocted is for George or for you.” Her stare dug into him, searching for the truth. Unfortunately, Ned wasn’t sure he knew the truth. He wanted a wife. No, he needed one. Aunt Susannah had worded that quite right. Maybe she had a point. Maybe he really didn’t want one and so he manufactured reasons not to find one.

“You’ll be pleased to know I’ve encountered a new candidate, and I’m quite optimistic about her chances.”

Aunt Susannah’s eyes danced with interest. She leaned forward. “Do tell me, please.”

“Miss Aquilla Knox.”

Aunt Susannah frowned slightly, not in distaste, but perhaps in confusion. “Was she at the dinner party last night?”

“Yes. She is the ward of Lord and Lady Satterfield.”

“That sounds vaguely familiar.” Aunt Susannah tapped a finger against her chin. “I’m trying to recall why she’s their ward.”

“That would be good to know, along with the usual information.” Including whether she was active in any charitable endeavors. Ned required a wife who recognized the plight of those less fortunate and strove to help them. He also needed a wife who was discreet, mature, and, above all, completely trustworthy.

“Of course. You know I shall do all I can to help you ascertain her character. But—” She looked at him for a moment as if she was deciding whether to continue.

“Go on,” he said, readjusting his position in the chair so that he sat straight, pulling his legs in. “Say what you want to say.”

“If you moved George out of the house and kept her from spending time with him, you wouldn’t have to entrust your wife with anything but the bare minimum. Especially not at first. In time, when you’ve grown comfortable together, you can introduce George into her life.”

“My plan has always been to gradually expose her to him.” And therein lay his concerns. What if he married someone who was horrified by George’s state? Or who was frightened? Or who couldn’t tolerate his presence? Or who told everyone she knew about him? This was why he had such a rigorous “test,” as his aunt was fond of calling it, to ensure he chose wisely.

“Yes, you and your plans.” She picked up her tea and took a sip. “All right, then, let us move on to Miss Knox. I’ll find out what I can. Are we still returning to London in the morning?”

“I must. I have a meeting in the afternoon, and aren’t we committed to some ball or other?”

“We are. I shall have to ascertain whether Miss Knox will be there.” She took another sip of tea. “I hope so.”

Ned hoped so too. Not just because he was eager to start on his test, but because he wanted to see her again. He’d ask her to dance and he would talk with her, and he’d determine if she possessed the necessary attributes to be his countess. He had yet to find a woman who met his standards, who would be worthy of George.

Perhaps Miss Knox was that woman.

The Overton ball was an absolute crush. Thousands of candles lent light and heat, while the crowd and the noise overwhelmed the rest of one’s senses. Aquilla had become quite used to such a press, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. The fact that this could be her last such event filled her with a bit of relief and maybe a dash of excitement. She was ready for something new. Something different.

Knowing tonight was likely her last social occasion made it easier to endure a dance with Lord Lindsell, which would inevitably happen. Thankfully, she had yet to see him in the hour or so since she’d arrived with Lord and Lady Satterfield.

The latter stood maybe twenty feet away, conversing with a friend. She darted periodic looks in Aquilla’s direction, and each time, Aquilla smiled in return.

“Aquilla, there you are.” Eleanor St. John, Duchess of Kendal, leaned close and blew a kiss against Aquilla’s cheek. “You look splendid this evening, but then you always do.”

Aquilla smoothed her hand over the skirt of her ball gown. The pale yellow silk was light and flowed like a cloud puffing through the sky. It was one of two evening gowns she’d accepted from Lady Satterfield at the start of the Season. She hadn’t wanted any new clothing, but Lady Satterfield had been rather vigorous in her insistence.

“Thank you. You look lovely too. That coral necklace is particularly fetching.”

Nora’s hand went to the single strand adorning her throat. “Isn’t it? It’s somewhat new. Kendal has excellent taste.”

“Is he here this evening?”

Nora shook her head. “You know how he dislikes these sorts of things. He attends a few here and there—for me and his stepmother—but he’s quite content to stay at home and tuck the children into bed.”

Aquilla smiled at that image, thinking it was both charming and peculiar. She had a hard time believing gentlemen behaved in such a way, but clearly they did. Just not in her experience. No, her father—and now her brother—wouldn’t be caught anywhere near their small children.

“You don’t come to many events either,” Aquilla noted. “Not really.”

Nora chuckled softly. “That’s true, I’m afraid. But Lady Overton’s ball is always special, and I knew you and Lady Satterfield would be here.”

As if she’d heard them, and maybe she had, Lady Satterfield turned and came toward them. “Nora, dear, I’m so glad you’ve come. Did you talk Kendal into accompanying you?”

“I’m afraid not. Christopher had the sniffles this afternoon, and so Kendal insisted on staying at home.”

Lady Satterfield’s eyes rounded slightly. “Oh dear, please tell me it isn’t serious.” She inhaled sharply and waved her hand. “Of course it isn’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” She smiled. “Please keep us updated. I hate thinking my grandson is ill.”

“He’s not ill. He sneezed twice—that was all the excuse Kendal needed.” Nora rolled her eyes and laughed.

Aquilla and Lady Satterfield joined her.

Nora clasped her hands together and looked between her friend and her mother-in-law. “What is tonight’s plan? Is Lindsell still dangling after you?” She settled her gaze on Aquilla.

Aquilla suppressed a twitch of disgust. “Probably, but I’m not interested.”

Lady Satterfield looked at her stepdaughter-in-law. “We’ve learned some things about him. He’s what we might call unacceptable.”

Aquilla and Nora snapped their gazes to each other. Mirth danced in their eyes and tugged at their lips, but they didn’t say anything. Lady Satterfield didn’t know about them calling certain gentlemen of the ton “Untouchable,” a word coined by Nora. Her husband, who’d once been called “the forbidden duke,” bore the distinction of being the very first one.

“What is it?” Lady Satterfield asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I think Unacceptable fits him perfectly,” Aquilla said, smiling broadly.

Nora tugged at her glove, realigning it over her wrist. “Well then, I daresay it’s time to set our sights elsewhere. Who else are you considering?”

Aquilla nearly laughed. She made it sound as if Aquilla could have her choice of husband—if she even wanted one. “No one.”

Lady Satterfield made a small sound but didn’t say anything. However, she looked from Aquilla to Nora as if she did want to say something.

“Is there someone?” Nora asked, directing her attention first to her stepmother-in-law and then to Aquilla.

Aquilla had no idea what Lady Satterfield could be about.

The countess edged closer, which caused their little conversation circle to tighten. “It just occurred to me, actually. Aquilla sat next to the Earl of Sutton the other night. I saw them talking a bit. And then…” She didn’t finish, but Aquilla knew what she was thinking—that they’d met under odd circumstances. “Is there a connection, I wonder?” Lady Satterfield asked. She watched Aquilla expectantly.

“No,” Aquilla said quickly. “We merely sat together by chance. I will say he was far more engaging than Lindsell.”

“Indeed?” Lady Satterfield answered. Her gaze turned shrewd, and Aquilla knew she’d be digging deeper into this topic if they weren’t in a ballroom with too many ears.

And then, the unimaginable happened. Sutton strode straight toward them, approaching from behind Lady Satterfield.

“He’s here,” Nora whispered, her head swiveling toward the earl as he bore down on them.

Lady Satterfield moved backward, opening their circle. She pivoted just as he arrived. “Good evening, my lord.”

“Good evening.” He offered a bow first to Nora, as decorum demanded since she was the highest-ranking lady present, and then to Lady Satterfield. Lastly, he bowed toward Aquilla. “I was hoping you might be free for the next dance. It is a waltz, if you’re permitted.” He looked toward Lady Satterfield, who nodded her assent.

He turned his attention back to Aquilla and offered his arm.

She could decline. She should decline. But given the look of absolute rapture on Lady Satterfield’s face, she would do no such thing. “Thank you, my lord.” She dipped a brief curtsey before taking his arm.

Lady Satterfield grinned her approval as they walked toward the dance floor.

Well, this is unexpected, Aquilla thought. She’d spent most of her mental energy on how she might avoid Lindsell this evening and hadn’t given a thought as to whether another gentleman might ask her to dance. And she certainly hadn’t considered Sutton. He was the most Untouchable of Untouchables given his reputation for not following through with courtship. Even if she were a desirable catch on the Marriage Mart, she would have every expectation that he would find her lacking.

And yet here he was. Which meant she ought to mount her defense.

She instantly and unabashedly adopted her scatterbrained, overtalkative, silly mien. “To what do I owe this pleasure, my lord?”

He darted her a quizzical glance as he led her onto the dance floor. “You seem surprised that I asked.”

She blinked up at him, feigning shock. “I am.”

“Why? You’re a charming young woman. We’ve met twice before. It seemed we should dance.”

She giggled and batted her lashes coyly. “Oh, then I am so fortunate! You see, I rarely dance. And it’s not because I can’t. On the contrary, I’m quite skilled. Just you wait.” She grinned up at him and for a moment felt bad about misleading him. Not bad enough to stop, however.

The music started, and he set his hand at her waist, his touch light. His other hand met hers, and he swept her into the dance.

Aquilla hadn’t been lying about being a good dancer, but she typically sought to step on her partner’s toes or miss a step or move too slowly or too quickly. In many cases, her mistake went unnoticed because her partner had committed worse.

This was not the case with Sutton. She could tell immediately that he was the best dancer who’d ever escorted her onto the floor. He was deft and nimble, and he made it look unbearably easy. If she had any doubt that he was an Untouchable, it had been utterly vanquished by his ability. And his confidence. He exuded it the way the scent of a flower drew bees to its nectar. She began to see why women didn’t care if his reputation was that of someone who wouldn’t commit.

She tried to stumble, but his grip tightened, keeping her upright and in time with the music.

He looked down at her in question, one dark blond brow bent. “You make me doubt your assertion.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Which one?”

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “That you’re a skilled dancer.”

“Oh. Yes. I may have exaggerated the slightest bit. I do that sometimes. It makes life more interesting, don’t you think?” She barely took a breath before barreling forward with one of her stories that was sure to bore him. “I once taught our cats how to dance. We had several who lived in the stables. I lined them up and hummed the music. It took them a bit to learn to take turns, but they got there!” She laughed gleefully.

He looked utterly nonplussed, his eyes glazing slightly. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“Very well, you caught me.” She lowered her voice as if she were imparting a dire secret. “It actually took me a year.”

“Miss Knox, I hope you won’t think me overbold, but I must ask what you’re about. You’re quite different than you were during our other meetings. I am…surprised.”

And disappointed. She could hear it in his voice. Normally, this gave her a jolt of delight. She knew the gentleman would likely never trouble her again. Sutton, however, had seen her in another light. That was a mistake she hoped to fix.

She pursed her lips, sticking them out so that she looked like a fish. “I’m the same, I think.”

“No, not at all, and please don’t insult me—or yourself—by saying otherwise. Tell me, what is the matter?” His tone was direct and possessed a touch of hardness as well as concern. There was more of the latter, actually, but perhaps that was due to the way he was looking at her. As if he peered straight though her ruse and saw her.

This time when she stumbled, it wasn’t an act.

“Pardon me,” she murmured.

Again he held her steady, his hands warm and secure.

“Tell me,” he repeated. “Please.”

She couldn’t bear to look at him, so she fixed her gaze over his shoulder at the swirling ballroom. “I thought men liked vapid women.”

“Not smart men.” His fingertips skimmed the space above her waist. Tingles of awareness danced up her spine. “Not the ones worth having,” he said softly.

She couldn’t keep from looking at him then. His gray eyes watched her intently, captivating her while he steered them about the floor with precision and grace.

She should keep up the act or do something else to deter him. But why bother? It wasn’t as if he would marry her. He didn’t marry anyone. So he might pay her attention for a while, but he would move on. That could not be disputed.

Aquilla allowed herself to relax. He was safe. Especially since her time on the Marriage Mart was nearly at an end. First thing tomorrow, she’d tell Lady Satterfield about her plan to become a companion.

“Why did you really ask me to dance?” she asked. If he could be unflinchingly honest, so could she. It felt good actually.

He lifted a shoulder. “Because I wanted to. I’ve enjoyed your company. It also seemed you owed me a favor.” The side of his mouth curved up, but only briefly, as if he were trying to suppress a smile. Was he flirting with her?

“Did I?”

He leaned his head a trifle too close and whispered, “Because I rescued you.”

Of course. She smiled. “Indeed you did. May we consider the debt repaid?”

He pondered this a moment, his gaze lifting toward the chandelier for a step or two. “I’m not certain that’s fair. You did falter, and your foot nearly trampled mine. I think I’ll have to demand another dance.”

“Demand? I’m not at all sure I enjoy autocratic gentlemen.”

He looked suddenly terrified. “Do you mean to change my nickname to the Duke of Demanding?”

“You’re joking.” She hadn’t been sure, but the crinkles next to his eyes gave him away. “Yes, you’re joking. Just for that I’m going to call you the Duke of Disagreeable.”

He laughed. “This is much better, thank you. I was horrified for a moment there that I’d misjudged you. I’m glad I did not.”

His gaze delved into hers, and she heard his words in her mind: Not the ones worth having. Were there truly any of those?

She doubted it very much, but for the first time wondered if there just might be. Could Sutton be one of them?

That she even entertained the thought filled her with trepidation. He was charming and clever, but he was still the Duke of Deception. He could be worth having, or he could be an utter fiend.

Neither mattered to her because she never planned to find out.

Chapter Five

As the music drew to a close, Ned was sorry to see their dance end. It had been a combination of alarm, frustration, and amusement. One thing he would say about Miss Knox—she wasn’t dull.

He was still trying to make sense of her bizarre behavior. Completely at odds with their previous interactions, she’d looked at him with wide-eyed fervor. Her voice had taken on a singsong lilt that made her sound far younger than he knew her to be. That she’d bragged of her dancing prowess and proceeded to stumble not once but twice had been particularly confusing. Until he’d realized there was something wrong. Either she’d undergone a complete change of personality, he’d misjudged her, or she’d been putting on an act. He was pleased to discover it was the latter.

Her reasoning—that men liked that sort of behavior—didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed her. Yet that didn’t deter him. On the contrary, it intrigued the hell out of him. He just knew there was much more to Miss Knox than met the eye.

He looked toward where Lady Satterfield was standing with the Duchess of Kendal and was glad to see his aunt with them. She was an excellent ally and an even better spy.

She wasn’t really spying, he told himself. He was merely utilizing her help so that he could be diligent. Whatever he wanted to call it, ensuring his potential wife would meet his requirements was essential.

“Would you care to take a promenade around the ballroom?” he asked. It would give his aunt more time to gather information and him the opportunity to plant the seed for one of his tests. All that aside, he wasn’t ready to relinquish Miss Knox’s company.

She glanced up at him, her gaze skeptical. “Yes?” The word definitely came out as a question.

“You sound unsure.”

“I’m unsure why you want to. As we discussed, our debt has been settled.”

He escorted her to the outer edge of the ballroom, where the crush was a bit less. It was, however, still crowded and not terribly suited to a promenade. They’d take a short circuit near the corner before returning to Lady Satterfield.

“I did not agree that our debt was settled.” He enjoyed flirting with her. He’d never enjoyed flirting with anyone. “If you recall, I suggested another dance. Talk of debt aside, I also said I enjoyed your company—even when you behave in an odd manner.”

“Well, you would be the first,” she muttered. “My apologies,” she said more loudly, her spine stiffening. “Am I to be your next matrimonial candidate?”

It was his turn to stumble, but primarily because a young buck dashed in front of them. Still, her words jolted him—she was so refreshing.

“Ah, it’s not really like that,” he said weakly. Except it was precisely like that.

She turned her head to look at him, her gaze slightly narrowed. “Truly?”

Refreshing and maybe a little maddening. “Perhaps it is a bit like that. But isn’t that why we’re here? The infernal Marriage Mart?”

She didn’t answer immediately as he steered her toward the less crowded corner. “Yes, I suppose. But maybe there’s more to life than finding a spouse. Have you considered that maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it? It’s all so affected. You can never really be sure about someone, can you?”

Damn, she spoke directly to his fears, to the very reason he took such pains in his search. “No, you can’t. But I have to try.”

She came to a stop and turned partway toward him, her eyes seeking. “You really are looking for a wife.” She sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yes.”

She pivoted back, signaling that she was ready to proceed. “Then I wish you luck.”

It was time to veer to the right and return to Lady Satterfield. Now was the perfect opportunity to launch one of his tests. “Would it also surprise you to know that I’ve come close to asking someone twice?” If he counted Miss Forth-Hodges, and he supposed he should. She’d met all his requirements, and he had every reason to believe she would’ve handled the last task with aplomb.

“Indeed? In fact, that would surprise me.” Her grip on his arm tightened, and she lowered her voice. “You shouldn’t share such things. Not unless you want them repeated.” She slowed to a stop again and peered up at him. “Is that what you’re doing? You want people to know that you are looking for a wife, despite your failure to propose, and that you’ve nearly done so?” She glanced around and kept her voice to barely above a whisper. “Why tell me? I am not a gossip.” Her eyes widened. “Oh dear, has my reputation expanded to that of a gossip in addition to ninnyhammer?”

He couldn’t tell if she found that distasteful or…pleasing. “Are you either of those? I hadn’t thought you were the latter, but perhaps I was mistaken.” He was mostly teasing, although he had to admit that her skepticism coupled with her forthrightness made her a strange young woman in this sea of husband hunters. Strange, but somehow exciting.

She exhaled and turned, indicating they should move on. “Not particularly. Actually, I’m definitely not a gossip, so if you’re hoping I’ll spread the information you just imparted, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

Just the opposite. He was thrilled. He oughtn’t take her word for it, and time would prove her honesty. For now, though, he was content to continue with her. More than content. He was already thinking ahead to when he might see her next.

“We are nearly to Lady Satterfield. I find I want to walk a bit more slowly. Tell me, Miss Knox, what do you enjoy?” He watched her brow furrow slightly, then smooth.

“I like to read. And take walks.”

“What do you read?”

“I’m fond of poetry, actually.”

“Indeed?” He quoted one of George’s favorites:

“Therefore am I still

A lover of the meadows and the woods,

And mountains; and of all that we behold

From this green earth; of all the mighty world

Of eye, and ear,—both what they half create,

And what perceive; well pleased to recognize

In nature and the language of the sense,

The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,

The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul

Of all my moral being.”

Her answering smile was beatific, sparking a flash of heat in his gut. “Wordsworth. Have you been to Tintern Abbey? I’ve wanted to go forever—well, ever since I first read that poem years ago.”

“I have been. It’s a beautiful, mystical place.” He’d taken George after removing him from the hospital. It had been a cleansing, healing time for them both. Or so he thought. It was so often difficult to ascertain what George was thinking or feeling.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes unbelievably vivid and beguiling. “That’s exactly how I imagine it. I expect it would be most affecting.”

It had been for him, and that she hoped for the same filled him with anticipation. Maybe, if things progressed between them, he’d take her there someday.

Unfortunately, they’d arrived at their destination.

Lady Satterfield greeted them with a wide, approving smile. “We were just speaking with your lovely aunt. I’m afraid Mrs. Greville and I have not been closely acquainted, but I daresay we’ll need to rectify that. I’m quite intrigued by her philanthropic work.” She glanced toward her stepdaughter-in-law. “The Duchess and I work with the Westminster Foundling Home among other orphanages in London.”

“Miss Knox has also been involved since joining Lady Satterfield this Season,” the Duchess said. “She’s developed quite a fondness for visiting the children.”

Ned caught the sparkle of appreciation in his aunt’s eye as she looked at Miss Knox. She was almost too good to be true. Which meant there had to be something wrong with her.

Stop that nonsense.

The admonition in his head came in the form of his aunt’s voice, because it was certainly something she would say to him in response to his thoughts.

“I was just telling them of your charitable endeavors,” Aunt Susannah said, moving her attention from Miss Knox to him.

“I had no idea you were so involved with Bethlehem Hospital,” Lady Satterfield said, her tone ringing with enthusiasm and admiration. “How did that come about?”

Ned exchanged a brief glance with his aunt. He would never reveal the truth, of course, but he’d answered this question enough times that he had a prepared response. “My father became a patron after one of his retainers was admitted. The conditions were deplorable, and he sought to improve them. I’ve carried on his commitment. I’m pleased to report that the hospital has undergone many changes in recent years, including relocation to a brand-new building, and is in fact still evolving. However, there is still much to be done.”

Sometimes Ned felt as though it was a pointless endeavor because the change was so slow, but when he thought back to George’s time there, he reminded himself that his efforts weren’t for naught.

“What a wonderful legacy,” the Duchess said softly. “I wonder if we might help in some way.”

This was too perfect. Taking his potential bride to Bethlehem was the final test. If she possessed the courage and grace to go in the first place and didn’t react poorly to the patients, he’d marry her in a trice. Only one woman had made it that far, and she’d fainted ten minutes into the visit.

“Yes, what could we do?” Miss Knox finally removed her hand from his arm, and the spot was suddenly ice cold, as if he’d been warm and cozy by the fire and had been rudely expelled into a frigid winter night.

“I visit often when I’m in Town,” Ned said. “I read to the patients and bring them things such as shoes and blankets.”

Miss Knox smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming in the light of a thousand candles. “Do they like Wordsworth?”

He couldn’t keep an answering smile from his lips, even if he wanted to. “They do.”

“I should like to organize a meeting to collect things the patients might need,” Lady Satterfield said. “Can you provide a list, my lord?”

Ned nodded. “Certainly. I will send one over tomorrow. This is quite generous and gracious of you.”

“You’ll find Lady Satterfield to be the most kindhearted of women,” the duchess said.

“Will you excuse me?” Miss Knox interrupted. “I see someone I must speak with.” She gave Ned a brief curtsey before walking quickly toward the wall where a young woman stood by herself, her cheeks rosy and her shoulders drooping.

“Aquilla is the kindhearted one,” Lady Satterfield murmured as she watched her ward touch the young woman’s arm. The relief and joy on the woman’s face told the story—Miss Knox had seen a person in need and had rushed to their aid.

Yes, she was damned near perfect.

The pessimist nestled inside him—the boy whose parents had forgotten he was still their son, the man whose brother had been tortured, and the earl who feared he wouldn’t find a countess worthy of the burden he bore—cautioned him to go slow. Nobody was perfect or even close to.

Ned and his aunt bade good evening to the duchess and countess before taking their leave. He cast a final look in Miss Knox’s direction as he walked away with his aunt.

She gripped his forearm as they skirted the ballroom. “You like her. I can see that nothing I tell you about her will matter at this point.” She chuckled.

“That’s not true.” Usually. But Miss Knox was proving to be quite different from the rest. “You know I count on you. What did you learn?”

“This is her fifth Season and really ought not have happened. Her parents refused to fund any more. Lady Satterfield offered to sponsor her.”

“I wonder why.”

“I am not certain of the specifics. I suspect it may be that only they know the truth.”

Perhaps Miss Knox possessed secrets. Like he did. Possibly another reason a match with her made sense.

“I know the conversation we just had cast her in a rather favorable light, but you should be aware of her reputation. She’s gone unwed for so long because she’s known to be an utter featherbrain. She talks incessantly, primarily of things of no interest.”

Such as teaching cats to dance. He couldn’t help laughing.

“Why is that amusing?”

“No particular reason.”

“That doesn’t trouble you? I can’t see you married to someone foolish.”

“No, it doesn’t trouble me, because she isn’t like that. I’ve spent enough time with her to judge for myself.” But now more than ever he wanted to know why she led others to believe she was silly-minded. He knew it was a ruse of some kind. But why? He ached to find out.

“Enough time?” She sounded quite skeptical. “I count two occasions—dinner and tonight. I daresay that isn’t enough exposure to know for sure.”

He couldn’t tell her about meeting Miss Knox that first time. And Ned was certain that had been the real her. More real than the woman she’d tried to be with him tonight. Until he’d called her out. In retrospect, he wondered why she’d given up. Why not lead him along? The more he thought of her, the more questions he had. And the more he wanted answers.

“You’ll have to trust me when I say I do. Miss Knox is not her reputation. Just as I am not mine.”

Aunt Susannah exhaled. “You’re right, my boy.” She was well aware of what people said about him—that he left a trail of brokenhearted young women in his wake. “You make an excellent point. I shall not judge Miss Knox too harshly.”

“Thank you. I’m quite impressed with her enthusiasm for visiting the hospital.”

His aunt chuckled again. “I’m sure you are. I couldn’t help but admire that as well. She does appear to be exactly what you are looking for.”

Perhaps. It was taking a great deal of effort to keep his anticipation in check.

“Are we going to the gaming room?” Aunt Susannah asked.

“If you’d like.” At his aunt’s nod, he steered her from the ballroom. “Did you discover anything about Miss Knox’s family, other than that they aren’t supporting her this Season?”

“Her father is a baronet,” Aunt Susannah said as they walked into the gaming room. There were several tables with various games, and Ned guided her toward the loo table, knowing that was what she wanted to play. “They reside in Bedfordshire.”

“And they had no quarrel with Lady Satterfield taking her in and giving her a Season?”

“Apparently not, but I suppose that wouldn’t be common knowledge. If they did object, I imagine Miss Knox wouldn’t be here.”

Very true. So many questions… He couldn’t wait to see her again. For a host of reasons.

Yes, she met his requirements. The ones he kept on paper to be checked off like a list for a visit to the tailor. The ones he harbored in his mind and his heart, however, those were different. They were things he hoped for but accepted he might not find. Attraction. Companionship. Love.

He realized those things had been absolutely lacking in every other woman he’d taken an interest in. Indeed, he hadn’t ever expected to fall in love—he wasn’t sure he wanted that. He’d seen what love could do, how it could permanently break a person and destroy a family. That wasn’t precisely true. It wasn’t love that wreaked such havoc, it was what people could be capable of in the name of that emotion—and it wasn’t all good.

Even without love, he could see companionship with Miss Knox and, for the first time, he saw his potential bride as a woman. From the pure, intoxicating blue of her clever eyes to the lush fullness of her kissable lips to the supple curve of her breasts to her alluring scent of lavender and honey, he longed to touch her. To feel her. To kiss her. To put her to a test he hadn’t even imagined with anyone else. Blood rushed through his body, awakening his senses.

As he deposited his aunt at the loo table, he reined himself in. Miss Knox stirred something in him no one else had. Something he was eager to explore.

Last night’s ball hadn’t gone at all according to plan. Aquilla had anticipated it would be her final foray into the Society that had never welcomed her and in which she felt like an oddity. Yet she’d somehow come away with an intent not only to see Lord Sutton again, but to perhaps engage with him in his charitable endeavors.

And she knew his intent—to see if she would suit him as a wife. She’d dropped her guard with him because she’d deemed him safe. Based on his past actions, she hadn’t thought he was actually looking to wed. None of Society thought that!

However, not only was he on the hunt, he’d set his sights on her. Her!

She could scarcely believe her misfortune. This made her smile as she finished clasping her favorite pendant—a cameo that had belonged to her grandmother—around her neck. What she called misfortune, others would hail as luck.

She was still smiling as she left her chamber and nearly ran into the housekeeper, but her smile quickly faded when Mrs. Landis spoke. “Miss Knox, your mother has arrived and is awaiting you in the drawing room.”

Her mother? Aquilla’s palms grew instantly damp and her neck became chilled. Summoning a courage she wasn’t entirely sure she felt, she nodded at Mrs. Landis before passing her by and heading down the stairs.

She moved slowly, taking each step as if she were headed to the executioner. What could her mother want? Aquilla honestly couldn’t think of a thing, other than it surely wasn’t good.

By the time she reached the landing, her heart was beating strong and hard against her ribs. She forced herself into the drawing room but didn’t bother acting as though she was happy to see her visitor.

“Good afternoon, Mother.”

Lady Eloise Knox turned from the window that overlooked the street below. It was cloudy today, as usual, with intermittent rain. The dreary weather suited her mother with her mud-brown hair, stormy gray-green eyes, and perpetual moue of distaste. Dozens of tiny lines fanned out from her mouth, indicating how hard her flesh had worked over the years at maintaining that expression. It had to be exhausting, but Aquilla knew it came naturally. Where people might describe Aquilla as sunny and pleasant, they might characterize her mother as precisely the opposite—a rain cloud that blew in and punished the earth with unrelenting gloom.

How Aquilla had managed to nurture even a modicum of optimism was a mystery to her now that she was grown. Now that she knew the truth.

Mother scrutinized her from head to foot, always looking for some imperfection. She’d often said it was a good thing that Aquilla was beautiful, that it would serve her well. That it hadn’t netted her a husband frustrated both her parents. Her father had said it was wasted on her. “You look well, Aquilla. How are you?”

It was a pleasantry, nothing more. “I am well, thank you. And you?”

“As ever.” Meaning she was as unhappy as she’d always been. “Your father sends his regards. In fact, he’s the reason I’ve come.”

Aquilla’s anxiety had eased since she’d walked into the room. The anticipation of seeing her mother was always worse than when Aquilla was actually in her presence. The same could not be said of her father. Though he’d never raised a hand to Aquilla, she still harbored a fear that he might. She avoided him as much as possible, and that had been more than acceptable to him.

But her mother’s words made Aquilla think there was perhaps something wrong with her father. Apprehension sent a chill down her spine, but not because she was afraid for him. On the contrary, she was horrified to realize she would welcome bad news about him. Good heavens, what sort of person did that make her?

“He’s arranged a marriage for you,” Mother said, pulling her from her selfish thoughts. “There’s no need for you to remain in London.”

Aquilla’s head spun. Her anxiety returned tenfold. “What marriage? Who?”

“I believe you know him. Lord Lindsell. He wrote to your father a week ago and asked to court you. Your father granted his wish, and a few days later, Lindsell asked for your hand in marriage. As you can imagine, your father is quite thrilled to finally be rid of you.”

Aquilla bristled at her mother’s choice of words. They stung, but they were accurate. She could hear him saying just that. While he’d never struck Aquilla, his words had cut and burned as harshly as any physical pain.

“I’m sure he is,” Aquilla murmured. She pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin. “However, I refuse to marry Lindsell.”

Mother’s lips pursed even more severely than normal. “I’m afraid you’ve no choice in the matter. The banns will be read on Sunday.”

That was in three days!

“I can see you’re upset.” Mother’s brow furrowed, but the flash of concern in her eyes said it wasn’t due to frustration, which would have been typical. No, this seemed to be one of those rare moments when her mother felt empathy. “Let’s sit.” She didn’t move toward Aquilla or try to touch her. No, she wouldn’t do that. Aquilla didn’t even need all her fingers to count the number of hugs her mother had given her.

Aquilla forced herself to walk to the settee, where she sank onto the cushion. Immediately, she realized she ought to have taken a chair so that Mother couldn’t sit beside her, but just as quickly, she castigated herself for such a stupid thought. Mother would never choose to share a settee with anyone. She didn’t like people to be close to her, but then, after everything she’d endured, Aquilla couldn’t really blame her.

And therein lay Aquilla’s conflict. She didn’t like her mother very much, but she felt such sorrow for her that she couldn’t help but still love her. Even if her mother didn’t want her to.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Unable to bear the tension any longer, Aquilla looked at her stoic mother. “You supported my desire to remain unwed.”

“Yes, so long as your father never forced the issue. Now he is.” There was no regret in her tone. Gone was the shred of emotion she’d revealed earlier.

“He doesn’t need to. I’m going to seek employment as a companion. You needn’t worry about me any longer.” She looked her mother in the eye. “Not that you ever did,” she added.

“Of course I did. That’s why you’ve not married before now.” Her mother transferred her gaze to the windows. “I know you think I don’t care for you, but I always have.”

In her often strident and always aloof way, Aquilla supposed. “Then tell Father my plan. It won’t affect him one way or the other.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Lindsell owns a parcel of land that adjoins ours and has agreed to give it to your Father in exchange for marrying you. I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do to avoid it.”

Anger and frustration and injustice swelled inside Aquilla until tears burned her eyes. She looked away from her mother and blinked them back. “Lindsell is terrible. He said I needed a ‘loving yoke.’” She darted a glance toward her mother, who looked at her with a pained, sympathetic expression.

“I’m sorry. If I could stop it, I would.”

Aquilla didn’t believe her. She might detest her husband, but she still supported him and demonstrated her allegiance, even if it meant treating her children poorly. Even so, Aquilla couldn’t blame her, not when she’d seen her father hit her three years ago. She’d since learned that he’d been doing that throughout their marriage, which was why Aquilla’s desire to wed had evaporated. Her father had employed a yoke—a yoke of violence—and it worked.

Determination to avoid such a fate surged in Aquilla. She was never one to give up easily. “Then I’ll have to think of a way.”

Lady Satterfield glided into the drawing room at that moment, her smile instantly brightening the room, if not Aquilla’s mood. “Good afternoon, Lady Knox. I didn’t know you were coming to Town. I would’ve invited you to stay with us.” Lady Satterfield sat down next to Aquilla on the settee.

“Good afternoon, Lady Satterfield. I am staying with my cousin, but thank you for thinking of me. And thank you again for hosting my daughter this Season.” She sent a look toward Aquilla. “You’ll be pleased to hear that your efforts have borne fruit. Aquilla has received a proposal of marriage from Lord Lindsell, and her father has accepted.”

Lady Satterfield’s eyes widened, and her gaze snapped to Aquilla’s. Her lips pressed together firmly before she said, “I see.”

Aquilla’s mother stood abruptly. “Well, I should be on my way. Aquilla, we’ll return to Henlow House tomorrow, if you can be ready.”

Lady Satterfield stood too, but Aquilla couldn’t manage to join them. Her body was quaking with anger and anxiety, and her mind was racing with ideas—including escape. Perhaps she could flee to America.

“Actually, that won’t be possible,” Lady Satterfield said with an edge to her tone that gave Aquilla a modicum of satisfaction. “We have several social engagements planned that I should hate for her to miss.”

“I see. If you think it would reflect poorly on her to miss them, then we shall have to accommodate that.”

Lady Satterfield’s stare could’ve turned the hearth to ice. “I do. If you’d care to join us in the park later this afternoon, I’m sure we can come to an agreement.” She smiled placidly, but Aquilla could see she was angry. And this made Aquilla happy—it felt so wonderful to have an ally.

Mother nodded. “I will meet you later.” She looked at Aquilla before she left, but said nothing.

As soon as she departed, Lady Satterfield returned to the settee. She pivoted toward Aquilla and took her hand. “I’m so sorry. Is there nothing we can do?”

Aquilla shook her head. “No, my father is committed. Lindsell has a parcel of land he plans to trade. That is my worth, apparently.”

Lady Satterfield squeezed her fingers before letting go and clasping her hands together in her lap. “There has to be someone better out there—someone we can bring up to scratch.”

There was no chance of that. “Before Sunday? The banns will be read.”

“That doesn’t give us much time, no.”

It was past time to tell Lady Satterfield the truth. Aquilla summoned her courage and stiffened her spine. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. There won’t be anyone who will want to marry me.” Sutton came to mind, but she still didn’t believe he actually wanted to marry. Regardless of what he’d said, his actions didn’t support that. “You see, I’ve done everything possible to dissuade everyone. I don’t wish to marry.”

Lady Satterfield’s brow gathered and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t understand. Why would you agree to a Season looking for a husband if you didn’t plan to accept one?”

“Because I didn’t want to return home.” There it was, a simple reason and yet not simple at all.

“I can see why—your mother isn’t particularly warm, but then you’ve told me that.”

Aquilla had shared the bare minimum—that she wasn’t close to her parents. Lady Satterfield had never understood why they’d given up on her. It wasn’t as though they couldn’t afford another Season; they just didn’t want to give her one.

“I’m glad I’ve been able to offer a respite for you.”

“Oh yes,” Aquilla rushed to say. “I can’t thank you enough for the past several weeks. I’ve been happier here than anywhere else in my life.”

Lady Satterfield smiled sadly. “My dear. I wish I could keep you here. But if your father has agreed to this marriage, there is nothing I can do.” Her mouth tightened with resolve. “Unless we find you a better husband.”

“I still don’t wish to marry.”

“Not even to avoid Lindsell? Why don’t you want to marry, dear?”

She could say what she’d told Ivy—that she just hadn’t met anyone that interested her, but Lady Satterfield would perhaps press that issue. She might take it as a challenge to find someone—posthaste—who would interest her. Again, Sutton rose in her mind. Did he interest her?

“I did—once.” Aquilla had worked very hard not to dwell on sadness and fear, two emotions that had permeated Henlow House. She’d been vaguely aware of it as a child, but her nurse had done a good job of protecting her and her younger brother from the rest of the family. Her older brother Paul hadn’t escaped because Father had taken his heir under his wing from a young age.

But now, sitting here with Lady Satterfield, whom she’d come to know and trust and even love in the past several weeks, she let it all flood over her. She didn’t look at the countess, but fixed her attention on the fireplace where coals burned low in the grate.

“I looked forward to the day when I would marry so that I could leave Henlow House. But I didn’t attract any suitors that first Season.” She smiled wryly, remembering how awkward it had been, and then her smile disappeared when she recalled how angry her father had been. She was beautiful and came from a good family—why did no one want to marry her? Gradually she’d begun to feel less and less until she wished she could disappear altogether. “My second Season was an even bigger disaster.” The invitations had all but dried up. That her mother had convinced him to let her have a third remained a shocking occurrence.

That was when everything had changed, however—that time between her second and third Seasons. When Aquilla had learned the sinister truth behind her parents’ marriage. Her mother had stopped shielding her from it—at least when her father wasn’t around. When he was, she played the part of a dutiful, compliant wife. But in private, she’d told Aquilla never to trust a man, that their true nature would always reveal itself.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lady Satterfield said of hearing about her Seasons. “I wish I’d known you then. I daresay they would not have been unsuccessful. You are a delightful young woman, and I still believe we could find a much better match for you than Lindsell. If you are willing.”

Aquilla shook her head. “I’d rather not. My parents’ marriage is difficult. I would not want that for myself.”

Lady Satterfield gazed at her with sympathy, her eyes warm and caring. “I understand. Not all marriages are like that, however. Just look at me and Satterfield. Or Nora and Titus. And now your friend Lucy. She’s quite happy.”

So far, yes. But they were only recently married. Aquilla was terrified things might change for her friend, though she’d never said so. Still, she couldn’t argue that both Lady Satterfield’s and Nora’s marriages had weathered quite well. They were content, and Aquilla knew their husbands were kind and loving.

Although, seeing it and believing it could happen to you were not the same thing, and Aquilla’s experience had always been that men were shallow and sometimes cruel. Lindsell exemplified the worst she’d encountered—he was self-centered, arrogant, and demeaning toward women. If that was how he behaved before marriage, what could she expect after?

“I know, and I’m so happy for all of you, but for me, I’d be more comfortable as a companion, I think. I talked to Ivy about it the other day, and she’s agreed to help me.”

Lady Satterfield frowned. “Forgive me for being forward, but I struggle with that image. Since I came to know you, I’ve always pictured you as a wife and mother. When I see you working with those children at the orphanage, I see a nurturing woman with so much love to give.”

Her words pierced Aquilla’s heart, for that was what she’d wanted most when she was young and naïve. Before her eyes had been opened. “I appreciate you saying that, but that is not my path. Or maybe it is. I suppose I won’t get to decide.” The reality of her situation was beginning to truly sink in. Her throat grew tight and she felt light-headed, as if all the air was being sucked from the room.

Harley came in then. “My lady, a missive was just delivered for you.” He handed it to the countess, and she murmured a thank-you.

Opening the parchment, Lady Satterfield scanned the letter, and her lips curved into a smile. “Do not admit defeat yet, dear.” She looked over at Aquilla, who was puzzled by her reaction.

“What is that?”

“It’s the list of necessities for the hospital from Lord Sutton. He’s invited us to visit Bethlehem with him on Saturday.”

Judging from the sparkle in Lady Satterfield’s eye, she had a plan, and it likely involved Sutton. Aquilla couldn’t keep from narrowing her eyes in apprehension. “What are you thinking?”

“Sutton seemed interested in you, and if we could bring an earl up to scratch, I daresay your father would have to approve.”

She wanted to somehow provoke Sutton to propose before Sunday? Aquilla blinked at her. “I don’t think he’s that interested. You’re aware of his reputation.”

“Of course, but I happen to believe he does want to marry—he just hasn’t found the right woman.” Her smile was calculating but warm, and for a moment, Aquilla almost believed in Lady Satterfield’s abilities to change the future. Until she remembered that she didn’t want what she was planning as much as she didn’t want to marry Lindsell.

Still, if her father thought an earl might be in the offing, it might buy Aquilla some time in which she could execute a plan to avoid her compulsory marriage. “I’m not at all certain I like what you’re planning, but I shall endeavor to keep an open mind.” She smiled at the countess, truly appreciating her concern. “You’ve been so kind. I’m so sorry I wasn’t honest with you from the start. I feel horrid about taking your hospitality.”

“Nonsense. You clearly needed it, and I’ve been delighted to welcome you. Having you here has given me great joy.” She gazed at Aquilla with determination—and love. “I promise we’ll work this out.”

Aquilla wanted to believe her but just couldn’t. And not because Lady Satterfield wouldn’t try her hardest. But because if Aquilla knew anything, it was that her father always won.

Chapter Six

A gray sky could still be exceedingly bright, Ned mused as he glanced up, squinting. It was the nicest afternoon they’d had in days, so he wouldn’t complain. Particularly when he hoped to see Miss Knox. Aunt Susannah hadn’t wanted to join him today, so he’d walked to the park from his town house on Upper Brook Street.

Searching for Miss Knox or Lady Satterfield, he scanned the coaches parked here and there and the groups of people milling about. The countess was taller than average, and he caught sight of her maybe thirty yards away, just off the path.

He made his way toward them, nodding at people he knew along the way, but not stopping. As he neared, he finally saw Miss Knox standing at her side. Eager to reach them, he moved more quickly—and promptly bumped into Mr. Forth-Hodges. Startled, Ned rushed to apologize but kept one eye trained on his quarry, lest they move away.

Mr. Forth-Hodges brushed at his shoulder where they’d connected with one another. “I say, careful there.”

“In my haste, I misstepped,” Ned said, straining to smile.

“No trouble, my lord,” Mr. Forth-Hodges said. “I imagine you’ll want to see Emmaline. She’s just taken a promenade with her mother.” He gestured down the path in the direction of Miss Knox.

Ned wouldn’t correct him. What would be the point? He merely nodded and took a step to leave.

But Mr. Forth-Hodges wasn’t finished, apparently. “She was a trifle disappointed you didn’t dance with her at the Overton ball.” There was no direct question, but his tone was a query on its own.

“I wasn’t there for a terribly long time,” Ned said. “Mostly, I wanted to escort my aunt, and then I took my leave. Please convey my best to your daughter.”

“You can do that yourself when you see her on the path,” he said gruffly. “Go on, then.”

Ned gave a single nod—and an irritated glance—before departing. Once he’d had to answer to an irate father who’d come to see him after he hadn’t proposed to his daughter. Ned had spent a good quarter hour explaining to the man that he and his daughter simply didn’t suit. The father had been angry, but Ned had promised to ensure everyone knew she was a lovely young woman and would make someone an excellent wife. Aunt Susannah had worked very hard to make sure that came to pass. By the end of that Season, the young woman had become betrothed to a viscount.

They could do the same for Miss Forth-Hodges. He’d make sure Society knew she was an extremely fine catch.

Lady Satterfield saw him first, her eyes instantly lighting up. “Lord Sutton, good afternoon!” she greeted warmly.

He took her hand and bowed over it. “It’s my pleasure to see you, Lady Satterfield.” He turned to the beautiful brunette at her side, whose lapis eyes were fixed on him, but with less enthusiasm than her sponsor’s. “Good afternoon, Miss Knox.” He bowed more deeply as he took her hand.

“Good afternoon, my lord. May I present my mother, Lady Knox.” She indicated the woman standing to her right. Lady Knox’s hair was a duller shade of her daughter’s, and silver glinted at her temples. Her eyes were a dull grayish-green, the color of lichen that perhaps never saw the sun.

She offered a tight smile, or so it seemed given the way her flesh stretched around her lips and the myriad lines that wrinkled it. “Good afternoon, Lord Sutton, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you. How delightful that you’re in Town.” Ned was more curious than ever about Miss Knox’s situation. She had two parents, one of whom was clearly able-bodied, and yet they refused to give her any more Seasons. From the looks of Lady Knox’s costume, they were not in want of funds. Her dress was of a recent fashion and of exceptionally fine quality and construction.

“Did you come to take Miss Knox on a promenade?” Lady Satterfield asked, prompting him before he could ask.

“Indeed I did.” He looked to Miss Knox to gauge her reaction.

Her eyes still possessed a somewhat guarded look, but she was quick to respond. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

He barely presented his arm before she clasped it, and they were on their way. He noticed she didn’t even look at her mother. Her grip was tight; she was nearly clenching his forearm. “Why do I have the feeling I’ve rescued you?” he asked softly.

Her hold loosened. “You saved me from my mother. Oh, damnation, I didn’t mean to say that. Nor did I mean to say damnation.” She shook her head and breathed, “Damnation.”

Ned suppressed a smile. “Your secret is safe with me, on all counts.”

She looked up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. It was ivory and decorated with yellow flowers and a dark coral ribbon. “Is it?”

He laid his free hand over his heart. “On my honor.” They walked in silence for a moment. He began to wonder if there was some rift between her and her parents and that was why they’d stopped funding her Seasons. Since he preferred a wife who wasn’t particularly close to her family, this suited him just fine. However, he was bothered by it troubling Miss Knox. Which it clearly did. “Why do you need saving from your mother?”

“I don’t. Not really. I just… We aren’t close.”

“I see. I admit I did wonder why you’re sponsored by Lady Satterfield. Why isn’t your mother here with you in Town? Is she ill?”

“No.” She seemed to hesitate before adding, “She doesn’t like London.”

He wasn’t sure if that was the truth—or at least the entire truth—but he didn’t want to press her. “I hope you don’t mind my asking. Like you, I’ve no interest in gossip. I’m merely trying to get to know you better.”

“Yes, to see if we’ll suit.”

He still couldn’t tell if she returned his interest. “I’m sorry to hear you and your mother are estranged. Both of my parents are dead. I miss them.” He kept his gaze trained straight ahead.

“How long have they been gone?” Her query was soft, comforting.

“About thirteen years for my mother and about eight for my father.” While he missed them both, the emotion was tainted. They’d both changed so much after George’s illness had struck. Especially his father. By the time Father had died, they were barely speaking. “It’s odd because we look up to them—our parents—so much, but in the end, they’re just people.”

Her gait slowed, and she turned her head to look at him. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. I don’t really look up to mine, however.” She winced, and he could see she wanted to take that back.

He stopped, turning toward her. “It’s all right,” he said. “Our secret.” He glanced around. “No one can hear us. Feel free to tell me your heart’s deepest desire.” He hadn’t meant for that to sound provocative or for it to generate heat in his belly, but it did. Her eyes flashed with something that kindled that warmth, and now he wouldn’t regret it either.

“I just want to be free.” It came out as a whisper and was instantly carried away on the breeze. She lowered her gaze. “But I know that’s a ridiculous notion. No one—no woman, anyway—is ever truly free.”

No man either. Everyone had obligations, commitments, loyalties. Well, he supposed some didn’t. He wasn’t free by any means, but he wouldn’t trade it. He wouldn’t trade George.

“Free is a state of mind, I think. Like you said, no one is truly free, and I’m not sure I’d want to be. I like being tied to things. To people.” He looked at her intently, thinking he might like being tied to her. All sorts of lurid images invaded his mind.

She returned his gaze without flinching, stoking the flame inside him. “What of your heart’s deepest desire?”

“I’m still trying to find it.”

The breeze lifted the ribbons of her bonnet so that they blew up. She blinked and swiped at them. Instinctively, he reached to push them down. His fingertips grazed her cheek and then connected with her hand. Neither pulled away immediately, their hands dropping together in time until they reluctantly drew apart.

“We should turn back,” she said, pivoting on the path.

He didn’t want to. He preferred to sweep her behind a shrubbery and kiss her until neither one of them could breathe.

“Damnation.” She slapped her gloved hand to her mouth and flicked him an apologetic glance. “Sorry.”

He chuckled, finding her use of that word endearing for some reason. She looked like the consummate proper miss, but he was learning that she was anything but. Not that she wasn’t proper, but that she wasn’t what met the eye. And he liked that.

He looked down the path and saw the reason for her expletive. “Is that Lindsell with your mother and Lady Satterfield?” He knew that it was.

“Yes.” She made a guttural sound of pure disgust. “Can we walk very, very slowly, please?” she asked.

“We can do whatever you like.” In fact, he’d be happy to take her on a complete circuit around the park, which would surely take them past sunset. Particularly if they went very, very slowly.

“Please excuse my behavior,” she said. “I know I should keep my emotions to myself, but I’ve never been very good at it. Lord knows I’ve tried.” She took a deep breath and forced a smile that looked as though it might split her face in two.

“What is the matter with Lindsell? Is he bothering you?” If so, Ned would take care of the matter. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the louse talking to the ladies.

“Ha, bothering me. Yes, though I suppose it goes much deeper than that. Unfortunately, my father has decided I shall marry him. The banns are to be read on Sunday.”

Ned slowed their progress until they stopped. Sunday was just a few days away. How was he to complete his assessment by then? He didn’t want to lose her, not when he was nearly certain she could be the one he’d been looking for. Her words came back to him—his heart’s deepest desire…

“Am I correct in interpreting that you don’t wish to marry him?” he asked.

“Quite.”

“Then why are you?”

She looked up at him, from the side of her eye. “Do you really need to ask? My father has decided.”

Her desire for freedom made even more sense now. “Your father knows you don’t want this?”

She shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter if he did. My mother informed me of this development only a few hours ago. I suppose I’m still trying to accept it.” She didn’t sound resigned, as he might’ve expected a young woman to be. She sounded angry.

He abruptly turned with her and quickened their pace. “There’s no need to return you right now, is there?”

She let out a little gasp but kept up with him. “No. Thank you.” She tossed him a glance that was pure appreciation.

Glad for the excuse to prolong their promenade, his mind whirred with how to fix this inconvenient situation. Inconvenient? A scoundrel was attempting to steal the woman he was interested in from right beneath his nose. That was a shade more than inconvenient. He had to be stopped.

A most inappropriate solution vaulted to the front of his mind. He could compromise Miss Knox here, now, and then she would be his. But he wasn’t a scoundrel. He was, however, desperate to keep her from marrying Lindsell. Even if Miss Knox didn’t become Ned’s countess, he couldn’t bear to see her with a cretin like him.

He led her to a break in the path and drew her to a halt. Turning, he laid his free hand over hers and gazed down into the stirring blue of her eyes. “Miss Knox, though our acquaintance has been somewhat short, I hold you in very high esteem. I should very much like the opportunity to court you. May I write to your father immediately?”

Aquilla blinked up at him, disbelieving. Her mind, already tumbling with thoughts and emotions, went blank for a moment.

He said nothing, just stared at her, his gray eyes deep and intense, like a rain cloud just before it let loose its moisture. His hand moved over hers, lightly stroking. Goodness, if someone looked at them right now they would glimpse a scene of perhaps too much intimacy. She needed to step back, to keep moving, but she couldn’t move a muscle. Entranced, she worked to find words.

“My father has made up his mind.” That was all she could think to say?

“Your father doesn’t know an earl wants to court you.”

He had a point there. An earl certainly trumped Lindsell, a mere baron.

But courtship led to marriage…or embarrassment if they didn’t wed. She could live with the latter, while the former still filled her with dread.

She opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut again as her mind warred with itself. She started to walk, tugging him along with her.

His question from earlier screamed above the other noise in her head—what was her heart’s deepest desire?

Freedom? Yes. Happiness? Yes. Love? She’d never dared to imagine…and she wasn’t sure she could. But she knew she’d have none of those things with Lindsell, so it made sense that she should do whatever possible to avoid that marriage. Accepting Sutton’s courtship didn’t mean she had to marry him.

“You’re considering,” he said, jarring her from her tumultuous thoughts. “I won’t pretend your lack of response isn’t a bit disconcerting.

The self-deprecation in his tone made her smile. “Yes, I’m considering.” Whether it was terrible to encourage him when she had no intention of marrying him any more than Lindsell.

But he’s the Duke of Deception, her mind argued. He doesn’t intend to marry either.

Except that he said he did. She looked askance at him. “Courtship…not marriage.”

“You want the opportunity to walk away if we find we don’t suit.”

She nodded, knowing that she’d still bear the brunt of any negative gossip should that happen.

“Won’t you be forced to marry Lindsell, then?”

“I am hopeful that I’ll have found an alternative…situation.” She doubted her father would ever let her take the companion route—not so long as Lindsell was waiting in the wings. “Or perhaps Lindsell will marry someone else.”

He flashed her a half smile. “That’s what we ought to do—find him a different bride.”

“Oh, I’m not sure I’d wish that on anyone.” Her mind turned to some of the young ladies who’d been cruel to her over the years as they’d married and she’d remained on the shelf. No, she wouldn’t even wish it on any of them. Not that any of them were unmarried and available.

“You’re very kindhearted, Miss Knox.”

She tried to be, but she still felt guilt about not being honest with Lady Satterfield from the start. And now she felt bad accepting Sutton’s courtship when she had no intention of marrying him. Maybe it was difficult to be kindhearted when one’s heart had been hardened from years of neglect and abuse.

“Thank you. I’ll accept your offer of courtship, provided my father agrees. I’m not certain he will.”

“I’ll persuade him. Surely there’s nothing Lindsell can offer that I cannot.”

She recalled the parcel of land. “Actually, there is. He’s giving my father some land he wants in exchange for marrying me.”

Anger ignited in his eyes. “The blasted cur.” He stroked her hand, provoking a delightful spark that jolted through her wrist and shot up her arm. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

She believed him. She just wasn’t sure it would be enough. Darting a glance toward Lady Satterfield and her mother, she saw that Lindsell was no longer there. “We should return.”

His gaze followed hers. “Yes, I suppose we should.” He slowly withdrew his hand from hers, and she was shocked to find she had to stop herself from drawing it back. She lifted her eyes to his and for the briefest moment felt a rush of excitement trailed by a sense of peace. Neither were emotions she was used to experiencing.

Perplexed, she walked beside him along the path. She liked him, she realized. She’d never really liked any of the gentlemen she’d met, but then very few had spent as much time with her as Sutton had. Or had displayed anywhere near the same level or caliber of interest. Actually, none of them had done either of those things, including Lindsell.

Could Sutton really want to marry her? The temptation to entertain that notion, to imagine the future she’d long ago abandoned, was nearly overpowering.

But she mustn’t do that. She had to keep her head and focus on avoiding this hideous marriage her father had arranged.

When they reached their destination, Lady Satterfield beamed at them. “Did you have a nice promenade?”

They both answered in the affirmative while Aquilla’s mother delivered a withering stare. “You were gone an awfully long time,” she said, her voice dripping with reproach. “Lindsell was here, but he couldn’t stay.”

“Yes, pity,” Lady Satterfield said with a smile. “I’m so glad you had a lovely walk.”

“Regrettably, I must return Miss Knox to you.” Sutton withdrew his arm.

Aquilla was sorry to see him go.

“I look forward to seeing you on Saturday,” he said, making an elegant bow to the three of them. “Good afternoon.”

Aquilla watched him depart. The tails of his bottle-green coat grazed the backs of his thighs. He was a very fine specimen of man—not just in how he looked, but in how he felt. Even through his clothing, she could feel that his arm was strong and well formed, something she’d also noticed when they’d danced. She’d given up hoping for intimacy with a gentleman, and for the first time wished things could be different.

Well, she supposed they could if she was forced to marry Lindsell. Bile gathered in her throat, but she shoved the sensation away in favor of focusing on Sutton’s departing backside.

Lady Satterfield moved close to Aquilla. “How was your walk with Sutton? You looked like you were talking somewhat intimately.”

Aquilla ought not have been surprised that they’d observed her and Sutton on the path. She’d known how it would look, had told herself she should back away. And yet she hadn’t. She glanced at her mother, saw the familiar cold, distant look in her eyes, and blurted, “He asked to court me.”

Her mother’s eyes widened but didn’t lose their frigid cast. Lady Satterfield smiled broadly. “How wonderful.”

“He plans to write to Father immediately,” Aquilla said, looking at her mother.

“I’m not sure it will matter,” Mother murmured.

Lady Satterfield turned and directed a perturbed stare at Aquilla’s mother. “Why not? Sutton is an earl. He has impeccable standing and is incredibly wealthy to boot.”

Mother’s mouth tightened in her familiar grimace. “He’s also notorious for showing interest in young ladies and doing nothing about it. Why would Aquilla be any different?”

It was a valid argument cloaked in a subtle insult. Aquilla wasn’t offended—she was far too immune to things her mother said—but she could see that Lady Satterfield was. The countess’s jaw dropped slightly, and her eyes narrowed. “Aquilla is different because she’s a lovely young woman, and I can see that Sutton thinks so too. He wants to marry. He’s just been waiting for the right bride.”

Aquilla still wasn’t convinced that was her, but she acknowledged that for now he was hoping she might be. That alone was exhilarating—if she allowed herself to dwell on it.

Eloise Knox lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. Clearly her daughter’s future meant about as much to her as the weather. “Sutton might have potential, but Lindsell is a guarantee. The banns are to be read on Sunday. I don’t see my husband postponing that to wait and see if Sutton comes up to scratch.”

Lady Satterfield shot Aquilla an apologetic glance before shaking her head at Aquilla’s mother in disbelief. “I can’t imagine why you, her mother, wouldn’t want to intercede on her behalf. She doesn’t wish to marry Lindsell. Sutton is an excellent alternative—preferential, in fact. I may write to Sir Chester Knox myself, since it seems you will not.”

Aquilla allowed her gaze to flit to her mother, who was looking at her with pain deep in her gray-green eyes. She blinked and it was gone, replaced with the unemotional flatness Aquilla was most used to. “I’ll write to him, but you mustn’t think it will do much good.”

Of that, Aquilla was certain. She was tempted to tell her not to bother, lest it would invite his wrath upon her. But she didn’t want to say anything in front of Lady Satterfield. There were some things that weren’t ever meant to be shared. Some things that were best buried and avoided at all costs.

Lady Satterfield straightened, her expression cooling in the wake of Aquilla’s mother’s capitulation. “It’s better than doing nothing. In the meantime, we’ll simply do what we can to encourage Lord Sutton along.”

Aquilla’s gaze snapped to the countess. What did she mean by that? Aquilla didn’t want to marry him any more than she wanted to marry Lindsell. Perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate. If she had to marry someone, she supposed she’d take Sutton over Lindsell. Could she keep either one from happening? A knot of anxiety formed in her gut. She was fairly certain she’d be Lady Lindsell before a month was out.

Lady Satterfield gave her a warm smile that was meant to be comforting, but Aquilla only grew more agitated as she felt inescapable walls closing in around her. The notion of running away enveloped her mind as they made their way to the carriage.

How would she manage it? She had some pin money tucked away, but not enough to sail to America. She needed to consult with Ivy. Or Lucy. Yes, Lucy would help her, and Lucy had means. Perhaps she could convince Ivy to take a trip to Darent Hall tomorrow to visit Lucy.

She began to relax as she realized she wasn’t alone. She had good friends who would help her. Including Nora, a duchess. And Lady Satterfield.

But, in the end, was there anything to be done if one’s father was insistent on marrying one off?

Chapter Seven

Early Saturday afternoon, Ned awaited the arrival of Lady Satterfield and Miss Knox. He stood in the entrance court at Bethlehem while his aunt perched on a bench. The day was dry but dreary after yesterday’s torrential rain.

“What exactly do you have planned for today?” Aunt Susannah asked from beneath her wide-brimmed bonnet.

“The superintendent is allowing me to take the countess and Miss Knox on a private tour. He’s given me a list of items that they can solicit in their various charitable organizations.”

Aunt Susannah looked up at him, her lips pursing slightly. “Yes, yes, I mean what do you have planned with regard to Miss Knox?”

“I plan to observe her in this environment.” It went beyond that, of course. He was looking forward to seeing her. He’d thought of little else since their promenade two days ago.

She chuckled. “Don’t be obtuse, my boy.”

He wasn’t being obtuse, he was being practical. He’d always been logical and methodical with his approach to marriage because his situation required it. That in this case sentimentality might be affecting his actions wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate.

Aunt Susannah scrutinized him. “Miss Knox is different. You are moving much more quickly than usual.”

“Because I have to. I’m competing with another suitor.”

“Is it really a competition?”

Ned had received a reply that morning from Miss Knox’s father with regard to Ned’s request to court her. “Sir Chester Knox’s letter said I had until Friday to offer for her, and even then he may decide to accept Lindsell instead. He made it clear that Lindsell is offering land in addition to his name.”

Aunt Susannah made a rather unladylike sound that provoked a smile from Ned. “Preposterous. You’re a bloody earl. He should be quite pleased to have you marry his daughter over the likes of Lindsell.”

Yes, he should. Ned had a discomfiting sensation that there was more to this situation than he knew. It made him even more curious about Miss Knox and heightened his desire to learn everything he could about her.

Everything?

Yes, everything. She was—probably—going to be his wife.

“He’s an idiot,” Aunt Susannah said. “So today is incredibly important, then, since you must make a decision rather quickly. I shall do everything I can to assist you.” She gave him a pointed, determined look that again made him smile.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, Aunt.”

“Flounder, my boy, you’d flounder.” She winked at him as the sound of a carriage drew them both to turn their heads toward the drive. It was Lady Satterfield’s coach. “Quickly, before they join us, you were going to tell me about the letter from Dr. Paget. What did he say?”

Ned had received a second letter that morning—from Dr. Paget. He’d begun telling his aunt about it when they’d been interrupted by Ned’s secretary. “It was just a typical daily update. Well, typical for George. He got his hands on a pair of livery and was trying to sneak into the stable to take a vehicle. He said he wanted to drive me to the village when I came home next time.”

Aunt Susannah laughed softly. “I rather wish I’d seen that. You must let him drive you around the estate.”

Ned had contemplated the same thing. Their father had taught George to drive at fourteen, and he’d been an excellent whip. “I will discuss it with Dr. Paget.”

While they’d talked, Ned had been watching the coach. Lady Satterfield had descended, and now Miss Knox followed. She wore a bright yellow gown—the color of his mother’s favorite marigolds at Sutton Park—that brightened the entire entrance court. She was a brilliant wash of sunlight in a dark and dismal place. His heart skipped a beat.

He helped Aunt Susannah to her feet, and they turned to greet Lady Satterfield and Miss Knox. The latter wore a light blue bonnet that complemented the small flowers embroidered on the sleeves of her gown. The blue accented her eyes, and he found he could look at little else.

After bowing to Lady Satterfield as decorum demanded, he turned his full attention to Miss Knox. Dark curls framed her ivory temples, and her lush, strawberry lips parted slightly as she returned his regard.

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her glove. “I’m so pleased you could join me today, Miss Knox.”

She dropped into a curtsey. “The pleasure is mine, my lord. Thank you for inviting us.”

Aunt Susannah, who’d taken her hand from his arm when he’d made his bows, gestured for him to escort Miss Knox. “Lady Satterfield and I will walk ahead so that I may tell her all about our endeavors here.”

Lady Satterfield smiled widely as she linked arms with his aunt. “I’m enthusiastic to hear about your work. I’ve already stirred up interest in donating items to the hospital.” She looked at Ned. “Thank you for the list you sent. I do hope we can add to it today.”

“I’m certain we can.” He tucked Miss Knox’s hand over his arm and glanced toward her, murmuring, “Shall we?”

She nodded, and they followed the older women to the entrance. “I read about the hospital when it first opened. It seems to be a great improvement over the last one.”

“Yes, the building in Moorfields was in grave disrepair.” It went beyond that as the building had, in fact, been constructed on an old rubbish heap. “This building isn’t perfect, but it’s a vast improvement.” There were no windows on the cells, and there were heating deficiencies on the upper floors. He pestered the board of governors regularly to fix these problems and also monitored the House of Commons Select Committee on Madhouses, which sought to better regulate asylums in the wake of numerous cases involving mistreatment and neglect.

Ned held the door for Miss Knox as they walked into the hall where the superintendent was waiting for them. Malster was a middle-aged fellow with dark, thinning hair and sideburns that nearly reached his chin. He bowed to the ladies as he welcomed them to the hospital.

“I thought we would start our tour with the offices here.” He showed them the physician’s room, which was not currently in use, as well as the apothecary’s shop where medicine was dispensed. “The staff who reside here, such as myself, have their apartments here as well.”

“Who else lives here with the patients?” Miss Knox asked.

“There is a steward,” he said, leading them toward a chamber that looked out onto the airing spaces to the rear of the building. “And here is where patients may visit with their family and friends.”

Inside, a man sat staring at the window flanked by a younger man and woman. They spoke to him in soft tones, the woe in their gazes giving lie to the smiles they wore.

Ned looked at Miss Knox, who watched the scene with interest.

“Do many of the patients have visitors?” she asked.

“Some do, but many do not,” Malster answered. “At least not often. It’s a pity, but some of our patients are admitted and never have a single visitor.” He shook his head in dismay.

Ned couldn’t help but think of the countless times he’d visited George in the old hospital and how awful it had been. He’d already been there for three years before Ned had been allowed to see him. His father had said it wasn’t an appropriate place for a boy. Although at fourteen, Ned had argued that he wasn’t a boy. When he was seventeen, he’d simply gone to the hospital on his own.

Malster looked at Ned. “Did you still wish to tour the ladies’ ward?”

Ned surveyed the ladies. “If you are all inclined.”

Lady Satterfield touched her gloved fingertips to her temple. “I’m actually feeling a bit light-headed. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a turn outside.”

Aunt Susannah turned toward her. “I’ll join you, if you like.”

The countess responded with a faint smile. “Thank you, that would be lovely.” She looked to Miss Knox. “Is that all right?”

Miss Knox’s brow knitted with concern. “Yes, although if you aren’t feeling well, perhaps we should return home.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been looking forward to this tour.” Lady Satterfield’s smile brightened. “Anyway, you won’t be gone too long, I imagine.” She gave them both an approving nod and turned toward the entrance with Ned’s aunt, who tossed him an encouraging glance.

Ned wondered if they were trying to facilitate a connection between him and Miss Knox. He could see his aunt doing such a thing, but Lady Satterfield? She’d intimated that she favored a match between him and her ward. Whatever the reason, Ned appreciated the opportunity to have Miss Knox to himself.

The superintendent cleared his throat.

Almost to himself.

They walked to the ladies’ gallery, which was on the west side of the building. Malster unlocked the door and held it open while they walked inside.

“This is so spacious,” Miss Knox remarked. “It reminds me of a gallery in a great house.”

“They were designed to be just like them,” Ned said. “The intent is to provide a place for exercise in inclement weather.”

“As with the galleries in great houses,” she mused. “Of course. How wonderful that the patients have that opportunity.” She smiled at him, clearly impressed.

And so was he. He could see she was taking everything in, noting every detail, and she wasn’t doing so just to be polite. She was genuinely interested.

“Can you tell me about the treatment offered to the patients?” she asked the superintendent.

“There’s a variety, and of course the physician could speak to it better than I could.”

Ned buried his scowl at the mention of Dr. Monro. With any luck, he would be dismissed soon. The man’s treatment of patients was more akin to torture.

Malster showed her the patients’ rooms with their barred openings in the doors. He led them down to the day room, situated at the left end of the gallery. “Here is where the ladies may come for entertainment and socialization.”

There were a few tables and several seating areas. A half-dozen or so women sat about the room, and one stood in the corner studying her hands.

“What do they do here?” Miss Knox asked.

“They might read, if they are able. Or sometimes we allow them to paint. On occasion they might play a game. A few of the patients like cards.”

Miss Knox looked from Malster to Ned. “Is there anything we can provide to augment their entertainment? Books or activities or games? Perhaps they might like backgammon.”

Malster chuckled. “I don’t know if they could manage that.”

Ned loved that she mentioned backgammon, and he thought of George. He narrowed his eyes at Malster, whom Ned found a bit lacking in the area of true empathy. “I’m certain many of them could manage it.” He looked at Miss Knox, delighted by her wondrous demeanor. She was far exceeding his expectations at every turn. “Yes, I think backgammon would be an excellent diversion.”

She smiled and nodded. “I’d be happy to come and play with them sometime.” A bit of her glow faded as she added, “If I may, that is.”

Because her future was currently uncertain. Hopefully he could rectify that.

The steward, a man Ned had met many times, entered the day room and approached Malster. “May I have a word, sir?”

Looking a bit harassed, the superintendent exhaled. “Can’t it wait? As you can see, I’m entertaining his lordship.”

The steward gave Ned an apologetic glance. “Yes, sir, and I wouldn’t interrupt if it wasn’t important.”

Malster glanced toward the heavens and nodded. “Let us be quick about it, then.” He looked to Ned. “Please excuse me, my lord.”

They departed the day room, leaving Ned and Miss Knox with the patients. She was studying them intently, her face a mixture of curiosity and compassion. “I can’t imagine such a life,” she murmured.

The grace and tenderness in her tone stirred his hope. Perhaps she could accept George.

Suddenly, the woman in the corner started hitting herself in the head. She began to mutter and rock from her left foot to her right and back again.

Miss Knox looked around the day room. “Isn’t there an attendant?”

Ned took stock and realized there were only patients. “There doesn’t seem to be.” This lack of supervision—a recurring problem—was one of the reasons Ned would never send George back to a place like this. At Sutton Park, a footman or Dr. Paget or someone was never far from him.

Miss Knox made her way to the corner to the agitated woman.

Ned followed her, whispering, “Don’t touch her.” He’d seen what an upset lunatic could do.

She moved close to the woman, but not too close. “There, there,” she murmured softly, comfortingly. “Can I help you?”

The woman’s eyes fixed on Miss Knox for the barest moment. “No!” She turned toward the corner, presenting her back. She began to hit herself harder and also to pull at the dull, limp hair that had escaped the bun twisted at the back of her head.

“She likes Shakespeare, if you know any,” another of the patients said from the middle of the room where she perched on a settee. “But you should get the keeper. She needs to go back to her room. She gets uncomfortable if she’s out too long.”

Miss Knox immediately launched into one of Shakespeare’s sonnets, which shouldn’t have surprised Ned. He found himself listening to her soft, lilting voice instead of hastening to find the keeper.

“O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,

By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!

The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem

For that sweet odour which doth in it live.”

The woman stopped hitting herself by the end of the second line, and by the end of the third had turned back to face Miss Knox. Her light brown eyes were wide and docile now as she stared, rapt, at Miss Knox.

Miss Knox nodded toward Ned, her gaze connecting with his and wordlessly communicating that he should fetch the keeper. Then she continued with the sonnet.

Ned reluctantly made himself retreat, but he moved slowly, both because he was loath to leave her lovely recitation and because he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to leave her alone with the unpredictable patient.

He finally forced himself to leave the day room and head toward the keeper’s chamber, all the while feeling a growing certainty that Miss Knox could be the woman he’d been looking for.

And then he heard a scream.

The woman’s shriek pierced Aquilla’s ears like lightning breaking across the sky. One moment she’d been reciting Shakespeare to the placid patient, the next, the woman was screaming.

And then she leapt forward.

“Give me your dress!” she demanded shrilly as her hands reached for Aquilla’s shoulders.

Aquilla, still shocked by the rapid change, didn’t move quite quickly enough and the patient was able to grab her bodice. As Aquilla jerked backward, the woman pulled, and the sound of tearing fabric filled the air.

Gasping, Aquilla pushed at the woman’s hands and leapt back, slamming into the wall behind her. But the woman kept coming forward, her hands grasping, her eyes wild.

Then she was simply gone.

Well, not simply. She was lifted off the ground and was currently kicking and spitting at her captor. It was Sutton.

A tall woman with stern features ran into the day room. “Mary, stop that at once!” She rushed to Sutton. “I’m so sorry, my lord.”

The patient—Mary—went limp in Sutton’s arms. He lowered her to the floor, and she sank to her knees, sobbing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Her dress is just so pretty. Yellow is my favorite color.”

Aquilla’s heart squeezed. The fear she’d felt a moment ago vanished in the face of this woman’s suffering. Aquilla crept forward and squatted next to her—though not too close.

“Yellow is my favorite color too,” she said softly. “Would you like a yellow dress, Mary? I can bring you one when I visit next time.”

Mary turned her head, her tears slowing. She gaped at Aquilla. “You would bring me a dress?”

Aquilla nodded. It was difficult to gauge Mary’s age, but Aquilla suspected she wasn’t much older than her own twenty-four years. What had made her like this? Or had she spent her entire life in such a state? It didn’t matter. Aquilla only wanted to ease her plight in whatever way she could. And goodness, she could bring the poor woman a gown. “I would. And perhaps a ribbon for your hair.”

The stern-faced woman reached down and grabbed Mary by the elbow, then pulled her to stand. “My apologies again, my lord. I’m the keeper for this ward.”

Sutton looked at Aquilla. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you.” She belatedly realized her gown was torn and, glancing down, surveyed the damage. It wasn’t terrible, but her undergarments were plainly visible. She held up the torn fabric to cover herself.

“I have pins on the dresser in my room,” the keeper said. “It’s across the gallery on the right side, and I left the door ajar in my haste. Please excuse me while I see to Mary.”

“Of course,” Sutton said.

Aquilla stepped forward and took Mary’s hand. It was like ice, and a chill transferred to Aquilla, making her shudder. “I promise I’ll bring you that dress, Mary. Please be well.”

Mary didn’t respond but stared at her as the keeper pulled her away and steered her from the room. Some of the other patients watched the scene with stark interest, while others seemed utterly oblivious.

Sutton’s deep voice invaded her thoughts. “Come, we should get you pinned together.”

Aquilla mentally shook herself. “Yes, thank you.”

He went to the corner where Aquilla’s bonnet had toppled from her head in the scuffle and plucked it from the floor. Keeping it in his hand, he offered her his arm. She laid her hand on his jacket, and he led her from the day room. They crossed the gallery to the open door of the keeper’s chamber.

Sutton pushed the door wider and escorted her inside. A window on the opposite wall flooded the space with milky light from the gray day. It didn’t do much to brighten the spartan room, however, with its simple furnishings and noticeable lack of anything but the barest essentials.

Taking her arm from Sutton’s she went to the dresser and found a pile of pins. The door snapped closed behind her. She spun about, but before she could speak, he said, “I thought you might need privacy. Perhaps I should wait outside.” He lingered near the door, still clutching her bonnet and looking a bit uncertain. “However, I don’t regret telling you that I’d rather not. Leaving you alone is what put you into this mess in the first place.”

His tone was impassioned and his gaze fervent. Both sparked a response deep in her belly. “It isn’t a mess. I’m fine.” She pivoted and plucked a pin from the dresser.

Her attempts to pin the dress failed miserably due to a sudden inexplicable quivering of her fingertips. It was also an awkward place to pin, and she was having difficulty holding the fabric together while also positioning the pin. She released the pin in frustration and drew off her gloves, tossing them atop the dresser. She snatched up the pin from the pile and tried again, to no avail.

“May I help you?”

His soft query came from nearby. Startled, she jabbed herself in the finger with the sharp instrument. She sucked in a breath.

“Here, please allow me.” Setting her bonnet on a small table near the door, he moved to stand in front of her and took the pin. He frowned slightly at her finger. “You’re bleeding.” He swiped his gloved hand over the dark ruby droplet, then pressed his thumb to the spot. “Just give it a moment.”

She looked up at him, entranced by the low, rumbling timbre of his voice, the bold, masculine spiciness of his scent, and the sudden stirring arousal of his proximity.

Arousal?

Yes, it was as if she’d just awakened from a long, deep sleep and she was seeing the world anew. Every part of her was teeming with awareness and a keen…need.

The pressure of his thumb on her finger radiated through her hand and traveled up her wrist and arm before spreading through her and stoking whatever was happening to her.

She stared up into his gray eyes. They were the color of rain clouds behind which the sun was striving to break through. Dark and tempestuous, but with a brightness that stole away any threat. They held a promise, a temptation she’d never glimpsed before. A temptation she was suddenly desperate to indulge.

He lifted his thumb and broke their trancelike eye contact to look at her flesh. “All better,” he whispered. “Now, let’s set you to rights.”

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be “right” again. What on earth was happening to her?

“Here, you hold up the fabric, and I’ll pin it,” he said.

He exuded confidence and control, and she thought back to him rescuing her from Mary, and also from her foolishness that night they’d met at the Middlegrove ball. Was there a situation he couldn’t manage? A problem he couldn’t solve? The idea of someone—a man—who was helpful and considerate filled her with wonder.

“Miss Knox?” he murmured, forcing her from her reverie.

She grabbed at her sagging bodice and held it up on the left side so he could pin it. “Thank you for your assistance. I apologize for ruining your glove.”

He shrugged. “It may be salvageable. Anyway, it’s my pleasure. Speaking of my gloves, if you’ll pardon me, but I need to remove them.” He drew them off and set them on the dresser next to hers.

She clung to her torn dress as if it were a parasol trying to blow away. Her body thrummed with anticipation before he touched her. His hands were warm and capable as he set the first pin.

A breath of relief escaped her, and he arched his brow slightly. Without a word, he grabbed another pin and placed it below the other. He studied her bodice, smoothing his fingertips over the edge. “One more, I think.”

He plucked up a third pin, and this one had to go lower, closer to the top of her breast. She couldn’t seem to breathe.

“I, ah, have to pin this to the garment beneath.” His tone was apologetic, but there was a heat in his gaze that spiraled through her, coaxing her senses to an even more heightened perception.

His fingers grazed her flesh, eliciting a craving that tingled along her breasts and moved lower. She’d been attracted to a few gentlemen before, had even exchanged a kiss with one years ago after she’d returned home from her first Season, but this was something completely different. Oh, it came with the familiar fluttering in her belly, but it was so much more. It swept over her in waves until she thought she might suffer physical discomfort if he didn’t touch her more.

He bent his head and attended to his task. Still, she couldn’t draw a full breath. She told herself it was because she didn’t want him to stick her, but inside, she knew the truth. This was the most exciting moment of her life.

At last, he straightened, looking into her eyes once more. His mouth curved up, and she stared at the contours of his lips. “Success,” he said.

She glanced down and saw that his hand was still there, lightly touching the flesh above her gown. He abruptly pulled it away, and she did the unthinkable. She said, “Don’t.”

Her gaze found his once more. He regarded her with uncertainty. “Don’t what?”

“Nothing.” She’d been about to say don’t stop touching me, but good heavens, she couldn’t say that.

His eyes held hers, and it was as if the truth would be pulled from her, whether she wanted to confess it or not.

“I liked you…doing that,” she said, her face flaming. “Touching me.” No one ever touched her. Well, not until she’d had close friends and come to live with Lady Satterfield. Affection wasn’t something that was demonstrated in Aquilla’s family—not in word and certainly not in deed.

“I see.” He lifted his hand, his gaze questioning. She gave a slight nod of consent and prayed it would be enough. She’d already revealed too much; she wasn’t sure she could ask him to touch her again.

Lightly, his fingertips grazed her collarbone and the side of her neck, gently stroking. She resisted the urge to close her eyes and lose herself in this simple and yet devastating sensation. If she completely surrendered… What? What would happen?

“May I kiss you?”

His question jolted her, making her flinch. His hand stilled, and a bit of the light in the clouds of his eyes diminished. She wanted it back—the light, the touch, all of it.

“Yes.” She shouldn’t have agreed, had barely considered it, but she was also powerless to deny him. No, she was powerless to deny herself. She, who had forsaken so much, deserved this solitary moment.

“Yes,” she repeated, her voice strong, and her will even stronger.

His eyes searched hers, and she edged closer, seeking him. His hand cupped the side of her jaw, and he lowered his head. She closed her eyes just before his lips touched hers. They were warm and soft, moving gently but purposefully and ignited a desire Aquilla had never known.

He brought his other hand up so that he held her face between his palms, caressing her as his mouth explored hers. Anticipation swelled through her. She wanted to touch him too, but wasn’t sure how. She raised her hands and bumped his elbows, but he didn’t stop kissing her. She set her palms against his jacket, her flesh sinking into the soft wool. His lips parted, and the kiss shifted from light and airy to concentrated and lush. Rather than just meeting flesh to flesh, this was a joining—a small one, but more than she had ever experienced.

The butterflies fluttering in her chest and far lower gathered strength and stirred a tumult within her. Her fingers curled into his lapels, and his touch grew more insistent, his fingertips pressing against her jaw in the most delicious fashion.

He guided her head to the side, angling her so that his mouth slanted over hers. And then everything changed again, going from pleasantly enticing to utterly decadent.

His lips parted further, and he gently stroked her jaw, urging her to open her mouth beneath his. She couldn’t help herself even though she knew she should try. The butterflies were gone, replaced by deep swells of hunger and need. The urgency for more was nearly desperate and more than a little bit frightening. The longer he touched her, the deeper he kissed her, the more she wanted.

His tongue slid into her mouth, shocking and yet so welcome. This was the wilderness, a vast domain she’d never thought to visit. And had never wanted to.

Temptation gave way to surrender as she pulled at his coat, bringing him against her. Well, almost against her. She needed to move her hands so that she could feel him, and then maybe he’d put his arms around her.

His tongue sweeping through her mouth snatched her thoughts away. There was heat and desire and a flush of anticipation that took control of her. Sensations and excitement shot through her and made her more aware of places within herself than she’d ever been before. If she ever had been. Her breasts tingled, her belly tightened, and an odd, hungry need pooled between her legs, made her want to press her hips into his.

He suddenly jerked away from her, his hands clasping over hers and gently, but firmly, directing them to her sides. “Someone is coming.”

Then she heard the footsteps and the voices coming from outside the door. The closed door.

Heavens, if someone discovered them here, alone, closeted away…she’d be ruined. Then the question of her marriage wouldn’t be a question at all.

Sutton picked up his gloves and strode to where he’d set her bonnet. After donning the gloves, he plucked the bonnet from the table and held it in front of himself as he crossed to the door. Opening it wide, he greeted the keeper and Malster as if nothing were amiss. “Thank you for the use of your chamber,” he said.

Aquilla, still reeling from the events of the past several minutes, blinked at the open doorway.

Malster hurried inside, his face drawn with concern and perhaps a bit of trepidation as he glanced toward Sutton. “I’m so sorry, Miss Knox. Are you all right?”

Aquilla gathered her wits and picked up her gloves from the dresser. “I’m fine, thank you. I feel terrible for poor Mary.”

The superintendent gaped at her. “You do?”

Aquilla frowned at his reaction but didn’t respond.

“Of course she does,” Sutton interjected as he walked to her and handed her the bonnet. “Miss Knox is a kind and benevolent young woman—as we all should be. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Malster pivoted, wincing as he shot a pleading stare at Sutton. “My lord, I do hope this won’t reflect poorly on us. We do our best to manage all the patients, and Mary had been doing so well of late.”

“I do wonder what the keeper was doing and why the day room was unsupervised, but I’m sure you’ll ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Of course it won’t, my lord. I can promise you that.” Malster sent a glower toward the keeper, who’d gone rather pallid since Aquilla had seen her last. Clearly, she’d suffered the superintendent’s admonishment and perhaps anger.

Aquilla hated to see another person abused, even if they’d committed a mistake. “I’m certain the keeper will endeavor to ensure the safety of everyone in the ward, including the patients.” She smiled warmly at the older woman, whose eyes lit. She nodded quickly before dropping her gaze to the floor.

“Come, Miss Knox,” Sutton said, offering his arm. “We should return to Lady Satterfield and my aunt.”

“Oh yes, they are waiting in the entry hall,” Malster said.

Aquilla inclined her head as she took Sutton’s forearm, and he escorted her from the room.

Once they were in the gallery, he whispered, “Marry me.”

Aquilla tripped. She knew he was considering it, so it ought not have been a surprise. Nevertheless, the urgency and…yearning in his tone stunned her beyond words. Indeed, she was at a loss.

“My apologies,” he murmured. “Miss Knox—Aquilla—would you do me the greatest honor of becoming my countess?”

Her body, still thrumming from his kiss, screamed yes while her brain tossed with all the reasons she should say no.

Marriage means ownership.

Ownership means I will be completely at his mercy.

And if he has no mercy?

She suppressed a shudder as she thought of her father and now her brother, a new father, and no better than his sire.

“I barely know you,” she said, noting that their gait had slowed as they traversed the gallery. Lady Satterfield and his aunt were seated up ahead.

“Do you really feel that way? I feel I know you enough to determine that you would make an excellent countess—and you know I’ve never offered before.”

That statement made her stop. But only for a moment. She pushed forward, her mind churning. As far as she knew, he hadn’t ever proposed marriage. The man who was notorious for disappointing a host of young ladies was now ready to commit.

To her.

“Why me?” She couldn’t help but ask the question.

“Because you’re everything I want in a bride. You’re kind, considerate, discreet, and I enjoy your company. Watching you with Mary—”

His voice cut off, and now he stopped as he pivoted to look at her. She looked up at him, at the sincerity in his gaze and relived the feel of his mouth upon hers. Marriage to him might not be so bad…

“Watching you with Mary,” he said again. “You are exactly the kind of woman I’ve been searching for. Please say yes. Say you’ll be my wife.”

Again, her sensibilities warred. She glanced toward Lady Satterfield, who’d risen from her chair and was watching them with interest.

“Should I drop to my knee?” he asked. “That way, they’ll know what we’re talking about and you’ll know I’m utterly serious.”

Say yes, a part of her urged.

Say no, another part of her demanded.

She wished she’d been able to talk to her friends about him yesterday, but the horrid rainstorm had prevented them from visiting. Furthermore, she couldn’t have told them about today—about his kiss—because it hadn’t happened yet.

She shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m ready to marry you. I’m…”

He took her hand in his. “What?” He moved closer, his brows dipping low over his eyes with concern. “Are you…afraid?”

How had he sensed that? Maybe he did know her. “I would have…conditions.” Her voice quavered.

“I’ll agree to every one of them.”

Her knees wobbled at the promise in his voice and the fervor in his gaze. “If I’m unhappy…will you let me go?” The question came out as the barest whisper.

His brow wrinkled, and he frowned. “Let you go? As in, divorce?”

“No, of course not. But you’d let me leave if I wasn’t happy?”

He stared at her, his astonishment clear. Finally, he simply said, “Yes.”

Her pulse quickened, and blood thundered in her ears. Could she do it? Could she place her trust in his strong, seemingly capable hands?

It was that or almost certainly marry Lindsell.

As if he followed the direction of her thoughts, he said, “Say yes today, and I will procure a license for us on Monday. We can be married the following week. Or I can obtain a special license if you’d rather it be sooner. I’ll write to your father immediately and before he has a chance to deliver you to Lindsell.” He studied her briefly as uncertainty flashed in his eyes. “Unless you prefer him.”

She shook her head vehemently. Then she darted another glance toward Lady Satterfield, who was nervously adjusting the ribbon of her hat. Her mouth lifted into a small, expectant smile. She’d be so happy for Aquilla… And Aquilla would never have to go home again.

Still unsure that she was making the right choice but deciding it was better than her current state, she lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. “I’ll marry you.”

Chapter Eight

Ned puckered as he took a bite of Cook’s latest attempt at lemon cakes. He couldn’t send this up to George. He’d likely throw the plate against the wall as he’d done with every other batch she’d attempted. It wasn’t her fault. She was an excellent cook in every other aspect. She just couldn’t duplicate their beloved lemon cakes.

“What’s wrong?” Aunt Susannah asked from across the low table where the tea service was laid out. “Too sour?”

Replacing the cake on the plate, Ned nodded. “A bit.” He sampled one of the biscuits instead. “These, however, are delicious.”

Aunt Susannah leaned forward and nipped one from the tray. “I know I’ve said it a dozen times since yesterday, but I do think you’ve made an excellent choice, even if you rushed things along.” She shook her head. “I can scarcely believe you did it at last.” She looked at him warmly, her eyes smiling, as she took a bite of biscuit.

He could hardly believe it either. Before meeting Aquilla at the hospital, he’d been optimistic that she could satisfy his requirements for a bride. He was also hopeful—more hopeful than he’d ever been—that she would since she provoked a yearning that no one else had.

But then she’d met him at Bethlehem with an enthusiasm he’d never imagined. He was already barreling toward a proposal of marriage when Mary had attacked her and she’d responded with unequivocal kindness. In that moment, he’d fallen under her spell, and he knew she was the one to be his wife. She would understand George. More than that, she would accept him.

“She is quite spectacular,” he murmured.

Aunt Susannah chuckled as she picked a crumb from her lap and dropped it on the tray. “It sounds to me like you may already be in love with her.”

Love? No, no. That was not a requirement. In fact, it should be avoided. He’d seen what love had done to his parents, how fractured they’d been after George had gone insane, how much love had cost them—in his mother’s case, her life. Losing her son, first to the madness and again to Bethlehem, had all but destroyed her. But it was her husband’s withdrawal that had been the final blow. She’d died of a broken heart, and Ned hadn’t been enough to save her.

Her death had widened the rift between Ned and his father, which had sprouted when Father had sent George away. They’d spent years arguing about how to care for George. Ned longed to bring him home, but Father refused to acknowledge that his son was a lunatic. Finally, in the last days of his life, he’d admitted that sending George to Bethlehem had been a mistake and that he’d done so because he hadn’t wanted a lunatic for a son. George’s insanity might have splintered their family, but Father’s reaction had torn it asunder. The memories ate at Ned like acid, and he strove to keep them at bay. Yes, he would be more than satisfied with a comfortable, happy marriage in which extreme emotion never arose.

“I am not,” he said. Changing the subject to something far less obtrusive, he leaned back in his chair. “I plan to leave early tomorrow so that I may obtain the marriage license.” They’d agreed to a date the following week—Wednesday, which was in just ten days. “You’re welcome to accompany me, or you can leave later, if you prefer.”

“I may as well go with you since we have the dinner party tomorrow night. I’m glad you both decided to hasten the wedding. I admit I don’t trust her father given that he was willing to sell her off to the highest bidder.”

Ned wouldn’t characterize it in quite that way, but Sir Chester Knox had agreed to trade her for a tract of land. Ned suspected he wouldn’t care for the man. He had the sense Aquilla didn’t either, so he looked forward to rarely seeing him.

“I am curious what his reply will be to my letter.” He’d written to Sir Chester Knox as soon as he’d returned from the hospital, but wouldn’t expect a reply until tomorrow.

They had, however, received confirmation from Lady Satterfield regarding tomorrow night’s celebratory dinner. She’d insisted on hosting a small party as soon as she’d heard of their engagement yesterday.

Had he really asked Aquilla to marry him in the entrance hall of Bethlehem Hospital?

Ned cringed inwardly. It was a rather indecorous location for a marriage proposal. He had an idea of how to make it up to Aquilla and was eager to do so.

Finished with her biscuit, Aunt Susannah took her teacup from the tray. “His reply ought to be one of happiness. Lady Satterfield told me a bit about Lady Knox. She doesn’t sound as if she’s the warmest person.”

Ned recalled his brief interaction with her in the park as well as Aquilla’s reaction to her. “I would agree that she is a bit unpleasant.” Which he found puzzling given Aquilla’s nature—she was kindhearted, witty, and quite pleasant. Hell, those were adjectives he’d use to describe any of the women he’d considered marrying over the years. Aquilla was much more than that. She was honest and alluring and real.

“Oh yes, you met her,” Aunt Susannah said. She sipped her tea, then set her cup back on the tray. “I thought Dr. Paget would be joining us.”

“He will when he’s finished with George.” Ned eyed the third teacup and wondered what was delaying the man.

Aunt Susannah plucked a napkin from the table and dabbed at her mouth. “You saw George earlier?” At Ned’s nod, she continued. “And how is he?”

“A bit erratic,” Ned said.

“It seems as though he’s been worse of late,” she observed.

It did seem that way, but then Ned hadn’t been spending as much time here. That would change after he married Aquilla. He would still need to go to London to fulfill his obligations, but he wouldn’t be looking for a wife any longer, which had taken a considerable amount of time and effort.

“He settles down when I am here, and I’ll be here more.”

Aunt Susannah’s brow furrowed, and he knew what was coming. “How do you plan to tell Miss Knox about him?”

He’d thought of this, of course, but he didn’t have an answer. How did one tell one’s new bride that she would need to share her home with a lunatic? And when could he trust her with the truth—a truth that very few knew? Could he trust her with it? He’d always expected he would, but now, faced with the prospect of disclosing his secret, doubt unfurled in his mind.

Dr. Paget took that moment to enter the drawing room. He glanced toward the window and frowned. “Raining again, I see.”

“Yes, the weather is atrocious this spring,” Aunt Susannah said. “May I pour you some tea?”

The doctor took an empty chair near the table. “Yes, please. I’d hoped to take George for a walk this afternoon, but I see I shall have to settle for the gallery.”

“How is he?” Ned asked. After demonstrating initial excitement upon seeing Ned, George had grown angry. He’d thrown things at Ned and railed against him for being gone so long. That Ned had just been here five days ago didn’t matter to George. Dr. Paget had explained that the passage of time felt different to George—days could feel like months, or they could feel like hours.

“He’s resting now,” Dr. Paget said, taking his teacup from Aunt Susannah.

Ned was surprised. George had been so agitated. “How did you get him settled?”

Dr. Paget lifted a shoulder. “We’ve been working on various techniques. That’s why you hired me, isn’t it?” He gave a small, encouraging smile.

“Yes.” Ned had hired others, but none had been as successful with George as Dr. Paget. “I’m quite grateful that I found you.” Over the past several years, since his father’s death and he’d assumed George’s care, Ned had sought new information and treatments about George’s illness. He’d found a pamphlet written by Dr. Paget and had contacted the man to discuss George. That had—happily—turned into the doctor accepting a position of employment.

Dr. Paget sipped his tea and looked at Ned over the edge of his cup before lowering it. “I understand congratulations are in order—how wonderful that you are to be married.”

Ned sensed a caveat was coming. He hadn’t shared his news directly with Dr. Paget but wasn’t surprised he’d heard, likely from the butler or housekeeper. “Thank you. We’re to be married the week after next.”

Dr. Paget’s eyes reflected his surprise. “So soon? And do you plan to bring the countess here immediately?”

“Soon after, yes.” Again, Ned perceived a concern. “Is there a problem?”

His brow settling into deep furrows, Dr. Paget set his cup down on the table. “It is my opinion that you should refrain from introducing your new countess to George at this time. In fact, I would recommend she not come here at all. Not until we’ve had a chance to prepare George. He’s quite attached to you, my lord, and I fear having to share you with your wife will cause a significant…setback.”

Ned scooted forward in his chair, leaning toward the doctor. “What do you mean?”

When Dr. Paget had first come, George had been in his worst state yet, spending days at a time in a sort of fog where he spoke little and when he did, it was to people who weren’t there, people who didn’t even exist. He’d lost all cognition, or so it had seemed, for long periods. It had been frightening.

“I can’t be certain. But he could return to the way he was before. Or worse.”

Aunt Susannah frowned. “I know you don’t wish to hear this, Ned, but it may be time to consider sending George away. Not to Bethlehem. I would never suggest sending George back there.” Her gaze was full of admiration but held a parent-like edge of steel. For a woman who’d never had children of her own, she’d done an excellent job taking over for Ned’s parents when they’d focused all their energies on George. “Perhaps now is the time for us to visit York again. The Quakers there are doing some marvelous things.”

Ned couldn’t argue with her about that, but he still didn’t trust anyone to care for George. After what had happened to him at Bethlehem… “No.”

“I must agree,” Dr. Paget said, filling Ned with relief. “The lasting effects from George’s experience in the hospital could very well be what is causing this ongoing difficulty. It’s impossible to know, of course. But I do think you’re doing the very best by him, my lord.”

Ned nodded as he settled back in his chair. He looked at Aunt Susannah, who was now folding her napkin and setting it on the table. He knew she meant well, and he loved her dearly.

He turned to Dr. Paget. “What do you suggest regarding my marriage?”

“Allow us time to prepare George. First, I’ll talk to him about families and how important they are and how they can make us happy. Then we can introduce the possibility of you taking a wife—and the positive impact that could have on you. It’s a shame he doesn’t remember much of his own parents.”

George’s initial bout of insanity when he was sixteen had been terrifying. He hadn’t recognized any of them, had become belligerent and terrified, and then he’d set the house on fire. Their father had immediately taken him to the hospital, where—unbeknownst to them—they’d done unspeakable things. When he’d come home years later, the only things he’d remembered were his love for Ned and lemon cakes. It was perhaps for that reason that Ned felt so responsible, so…beholden. He was George’s connection to reality, and he couldn’t let him lose it.

“If he did,” Dr. Paget continued, “we could present you and your countess as surrogates, if you will.”

“That is an interesting idea,” Ned said. He wasn’t at all certain that Aquilla would want to mother him. However, when he thought of how she’d behaved with Mary in the hospital, he had to allow that it could happen. The prospect filled him with hope. “I haven’t yet told her of George. It seems a period of adjustment would be good for all parties. I’ll plan to keep my wife in London until we decide it’s safe to introduce her to George.”

Dr. Paget smiled as he picked up his teacup once more. “An excellent plan.”

“How long will this take?” Aunt Susannah asked.

Dr. Paget shrugged again. “It’s hard to say. We’ll just have to see what progress we make. I’ll begin laying the groundwork tomorrow.”

It occurred to Ned that he should have discussed his marriage plans with Dr. Paget before now, but he simply hadn’t thought to do so. Likely because Paget was busy getting to know George and establishing the routines that kept George somewhat calm. “I wonder that I should’ve told you about this sooner.”

“Perhaps, but my presence has been a significant change for him too, and I feel as though we’re just now at a point that we could introduce another. So while it may have been a good idea in theory, I don’t think I would’ve wanted to begin this discussion with George until now.”

Paget pursed his lips a moment and seemed to weigh something before continuing. “How you conduct your marriage is none of my affair, of course, but I would take special care with explaining George to your new countess. Insanity is deeply misunderstood. People are often frightened and don’t know how to behave with a patient. It’s critical that anyone who interacts with George is calm and well versed in how to care for him. I’d be happy to talk with her if you think it would help.” He smiled encouragingly at Ned, who was feeling more anxious by the second.

“I am confident Aquilla will treat George with kindness and understanding.” She’d demonstrated a depth of concern and compassion at Bethlehem, but was that the same as accepting a lunatic into your home?

After another drink of tea, Dr. Paget deposited his cup back on the table. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some writing I need to do.”

Ned knew he kept detailed journals of his work with George so that he could share it with others who helped in similar cases. “Of course. Thank you, Dr. Paget.”

The doctor inclined his head as he stood. “Please keep me abreast of your plans regarding George and the new countess. I can’t stress enough the importance of caution and care in all matters concerning this.”

After he’d departed, Aunt Susannah looked to Ned. “Well, that sounded a bit dire. Should you tell Miss Knox about George prior to the wedding?”

Should he? A horrid thought stole into his mind—what if she changed her mind? No, she wouldn’t do that. He was confident that he’d chosen a bride who would accept George. Which meant he should tell her…but why did that fill him with fear?

Ned peered at his aunt, recalling a conversation they’d had not long ago. “Weren’t you the one who recommended I not tell my bride about George right away, that we should grow accustomed to our marriage—to each other—first?”

She inclined her head. “Indeed I did. Will you continue your semiweekly visits to Sutton Park?”

He had to or George might suffer a setback, as Dr. Paget had said. But that meant leaving his new wife twice a week. He wiped a hand over his forehead. “Yes.”

“She’ll expect to come to Sutton Park given its proximity to London,” Aunt Susannah said. “What will you tell her since you can’t bring her with you?”

He didn’t have an answer for that just yet. “I’ll think of something.”

He stood, weary of this conversation and a bit apprehensive about the entire mess. “This will be a temporary situation. And it’s necessary. You heard Dr. Paget.”

“I did. Forgive me for sticking my nose in.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Your nose has kept me from going the way of George all these years.”

A flash of distress crossed her features. “You don’t mean that.”

He cringed inwardly. “A poor turn of phrase. My apologies. No, I am as sane as anyone.”

Aunt Susannah stood and came to buss his cheek. “I’m not sure any of us are really sane. I’m going upstairs for a bit. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He watched her leave and thought of tomorrow’s dinner. He could hardly wait to see Aquilla again. They had things to discuss about the wedding, and he had his surprise for her. But mostly, he just wanted to touch her, to feel her presence. When he was with her, something felt right. He hoped George would feel that way too.

Bailey finished adjusting the bodice of Aquilla’s gown. “There you are. I think you’re all together now.” The maid turned to fetch the pearl necklace from the dresser. She’d been delighted to accept the position of permanent lady’s maid and was eager to be serving a countess.

Aquilla wasn’t entirely certain she shared Bailey’s excitement for the future. In fact, she’d wondered many times over the past two days if she’d made an impulsive mistake.

A soft rap on the door was followed by Aquilla’s dear friend Lucy peeking around the wood. “Are you decent?” she asked.

“Yes.” Aquilla wanted to leap up and hug her friend but had to wait until Bailey finished tying her necklace at the back of her neck.

Lucy, her hazel eyes gleaming and her dark hair shining amidst the red ribbon woven through it, stepped inside and was quickly followed by Ivy.

Bailey finished and stepped back. “Will there be anything else, my lady?”

Aquilla turned on the seat and looked up at the maid. “I’m not a countess yet.”

“Just practicing, my lady.” Bailey grinned and offered a wink—she was a bit cheeky for a girl of nineteen, but Aquilla liked her spirit. Bailey dipped a curtsey and left.

Aquilla jumped from the stool that sat before her dressing table and rushed to her friends. She hugged Lucy first and then Ivy.

Aquilla took in Lucy’s ruby-red gown with its stunning ivory embroidery on the sleeves. “You look so elegant.”

Ivy reached to close the door before turning back toward Lucy. “Indeed. That gown is magnificent.”

“It helps that you are simply glowing with happiness,” Aquilla said, glad to see her friend so content.

“Oh, I am,” Lucy said. “I could never have imagined things as they’ve turned out.”

Ivy tossed her a skeptical look. “You’ve scarcely been married a month. Give it time to sour.”

Lucy gasped but then laughed. “You’re being horrid. On purpose.” She rolled her eyes. “Always the pessimist when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Good God, you sound like Aquilla,” Ivy said, laughing too. “Where is the Lucy who vowed never to marry?”

Lucy looked down at the floor, a blush rising in her cheeks though she was still chuckling. “She was swept quite off her feet by the most extraordinary gentleman who’s made her happier than she’s ever been in her life.” She looked up at first Ivy and then Aquilla. The intensity of the love in her gaze nearly swept Aquilla off her feet. She supposed she knew love like that existed, but she’d never seen it. On second thought, she didn’t know love like that existed.

“You’re truly that happy?” Aquilla asked softly.

Lucy nodded. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?” She waved a gloved hand. “But this should come as no surprise to you. Of all of us, you’ve always been the most optimistic, the most convinced that true love awaited us all, if we were just patient. And now look at you.” She beamed at her.

Aquilla darted a glance at Ivy, who was looking at her with an arched brow. Her unspoken question hung in the air—are you going to tell her?

Of course she was. It wasn’t a secret. At least not anymore, not with her best friends.

Aquilla smoothed her hands over the sides of her gown, an ivory silk with pale blue ribbons worked through the sleeves and bodice. “I actually didn’t believe that. In fact, I didn’t really wish to marry at all.”

Lucy’s jaw dropped as she stared at Aquilla. After a moment, she looked at Ivy and gaped again. “Did you know this? Clearly, you knew this.”

“I only learned of it recently,” Ivy said. “And I was as shocked as you. Our friend is a good actress.”

Lucy’s gaze traveled slowly back to Aquilla. “Why on earth would you lie, especially to us?”

The word “lie” made Aquilla wince. It reminded her of the nickname they’d given her future husband. Perhaps Aquilla was the perfect wife for him—she’d already demonstrated a keen ability for deception. “I didn’t really mean to. I did want to marry. At first. And when my failure became evident, I think I convinced myself that I was better off unmarried.” Because she didn’t want to end up in a marriage like that of her parents.

“That’s when you made sure no man would ever be interested,” Ivy said.

Aquilla blushed. “Yes. I’m afraid my reputation is nearly entirely of my own doing.”

Lucy shook her head. “I’m aghast. All that time, Ivy and I were denigrating marriage and you cheerfully argued that it mightn’t be so awful, you were secretly ensuring no one would want you. Why would you do that?”

“My parents wished for me to marry. If they’d thought I was purposely sabotaging things…” She didn’t want to think of what they might’ve done. “I’m so sorry to have misled you both, truly, but I thought it was best.” Because she’d been afraid. Afraid for herself, afraid for her mother, just afraid.

She realized that for the first time in her life, she wouldn’t have to worry about what her father would do. She would be free of him entirely in just over a week. A weight lifted from her, and she felt her body relax.

Lucy’s brow wrinkled. “There’s something else going on here. Aquilla, forgive me, dear, but you seem far more capable of deception than I ever would have guessed. What aren’t you telling us?”

Ivy pursed her lips at Lucy. “Don’t badger her. She doesn’t have to tell us anything.”

“Just because you’re fond of nurturing secrets doesn’t mean Aquilla is.” Lucy straightened and was silent for a moment. She blinked. “Or maybe she is. You’re quite right, Ivy. It’s none of my business.”

Aquilla could tell that Lucy was upset. The three of them had been friends for over five years. They shared everything. Well, almost everything. They knew Ivy kept parts of her past buried and would likely never reveal them. And they accepted that. It was part of their friendship contract, in an unspoken but trusted manner. Aquilla, however, had misrepresented herself, and she didn’t wish to keep the truth from her closest friends—the first two people who’d ever shown her companionship and love—any longer.

“I’m afraid,” she blurted.

Lucy and Ivy stared at her for a moment before moving toward her so that they were a tight circle, or rather a triangle.

“Oh my dear, what are you afraid of?” Lucy asked. “Marriage?”

Aquilla nodded.

Ivy studied her. “Do you truly wish to marry Sutton? What happened to your plan to become a companion?” She looked at Lucy and explained, “She revealed her feelings about marriage when she asked me for help in becoming a companion.”

Did she want to marry him? No. Yes. Maybe? She knew she didn’t want to marry Lindsell, and since that was her only other option, she’d choose Sutton. “I don’t not want to marry him.”

“Well, that’s a resounding endorsement,” Lucy said wryly, provoking smiles from Aquilla and Ivy.

It was past time to just tell them everything. Well, maybe not everything. “If I didn’t accept Sutton, my father was going to marry me to Lindsell,” Aquilla said. “He has a tract of land my father wants. I wasn’t given a choice in the matter. But when Sutton heard of this, he pressed his suit. So I chose him.”

“Because he’s the lesser of two evils,” Ivy said. She looked at Aquilla intently. “You could choose neither.”

How Aquilla wished that were possible. “My father would ensure I at least married Lindsell.” She took a deep breath and plowed forward. “In fact, part of me thinks he’ll show up here and say I’m to marry him anyway.”

Lucy shook her head. “That makes no sense. Sutton is an earl.”

“Sense isn’t something my father always displays. He’d rather do whatever is most cruel. If he thought for a moment that I didn’t want to marry, that I’d been trying to avoid it, he would’ve forced me into a wedding long before now. He would’ve enjoyed watching me suffer.”

Ivy touched Aquilla’s arm. “You never told us that. I knew your parents were cold and difficult, but I didn’t know it went beyond that.”

“I didn’t either. Honestly, I thought they just didn’t care about you.” Lucy took Aquilla’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry.”

Aquilla could see that they were hurting for her, that they would’ve been there for her the past few years if she’d but told them. She blinked several times lest she cry. She couldn’t go down to dinner if that happened.

“Now you see why I didn’t want to marry. Everything I’ve seen and everything I’ve experienced has shown me that marriage is horrid. The man who courted my mother and won her heart turned out not to be the man she married. Sutton is kind and generous and charming…and so much more. But how am I to know that’s the real him?”

“Oh, Aquilla.” Lucy sounded as if her heart was breaking.

“You can’t know,” Ivy said matter-of-factly. “And you really don’t have to marry him. I can help you become a companion.”

“My father would never allow it.”

“Your father would never know what happened to you. You’d simply vanish.” She cocked her head as she continued. “Granted, you’d have to take up employment somewhere besides London, and you’d have to change your name.”

Aquilla glanced at Lucy, who looked as shocked as Aquilla felt.

“Vanish?” Lucy gaped at Ivy. “And change her name?”

Ivy looked mildly uncomfortable, her shoulder twitching. “If she wants.”

Aquilla suspected Ivy not only knew how to do this but had perhaps done so herself. She also doubted that Ivy would admit to that. “I don’t wish to vanish or change my name. I would miss the two of you far too much.” That was true, but she also didn’t think she had the courage to start a new life. She wasn’t like Ivy, whose confidence and independence had drawn Aquilla when they’d first met.

“If you say so,” Ivy said. “However, if you change your mind, I will always be here to help you. Always.”

Aquilla didn’t doubt that. Loyalty was Ivy’s greatest trait and was probably the thing that bound the three of them the most tightly.

“I can’t dispute what Ivy says—you won’t know Sutton until you are married, and even then you’ll have a lifetime to sort it all out.” She said this with a tone of wistfulness and joy that gave Aquilla hope. “I know my marriage is young, but Dartford is everything I could’ve wanted and more. It’s true he isn’t precisely the man I met.” Her eyes glinted with fierce love. “He’s better.”

Aquilla waited for Ivy to raise a dispute and was surprised when she sniffed instead. “I’m so very happy for you, Lucy. Contrary to what you might think, I do believe there are good men in the world. I just think they are few in number and difficult to find. You are exceedingly lucky.” She pivoted toward Aquilla and gave her a bright smile. She was so beautiful when she smiled, which wasn’t nearly often enough. Aquilla really did hope that someday, Ivy would release whatever burdened her soul. “Aquilla, I am certain you’ll be just as happy with Sutton.”

Though Aquilla didn’t share that certainty, she felt better having her friends’ support and blessing. She was also glad she’d finally told them the truth. “I truly am sorry for misleading you.”

“You had an excellent reason,” Lucy said.

Ivy nodded in agreement. “And it’s not as if we’ll hold it against you.”

“Certainly not.” Lucy’s eyes widened. “Goodness, how long have we been up here? They’re likely wondering what’s taking us so long.”

“Yes, we should go downstairs,” Ivy said, adjusting her glove. “I’m quite looking forward to having the Forbidden Duke, the Duke of Daring, and the Duke of Deception under one roof.”

Lucy laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that. We’re only missing the Dukes of Desire, Danger, Disgrace, who am I missing?”

Ivy waved her hand, grinning. “Too many to count. Anyway, we shan’t be gathering any others.” She looked at them sharply, as if to remind them that she was never going to marry. “Oh, I am going to miss the both of you,” she said sadly.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Lucy said, sliding her elbow against Ivy’s.

Ivy didn’t look convinced. “We’ve scarcely seen you since you married, and now it will be the same with Aquilla. She’ll likely be off to Sutton Park before the end of next week, and who knows when we’ll see her next.”

“At least we’re both relatively close to Town.” Lucy looked toward Aquilla. “Sutton Park is even closer than Darent Hall, isn’t it?”

Aquilla nodded just as a knock sounded on the door. Bailey popped her head inside and informed them that it was time to go in to dinner.

The three friends burst into giggles before marching from the room in single file. Aquilla was so glad they’d had that time together. She was feeling much better about her situation—far more confident and optimistic.

She descended the stairs, and there he was. Waiting for her at the threshold to the dining room, garbed in an immaculate black coat and the whitest of shirts and cravats she’d ever seen. His dark blond hair waved back from his elegantly sculpted face, his gray eyes piercing and full of promise as he watched her step into the hall.

Everyone else faded away as she glided toward his proffered arm. “Good evening,” he murmured. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you.” She uttered the words before she could think. Because he’d utterly stolen her ability to do that. Perhaps her ruse as a featherbrain hadn’t been a ruse at all. Perhaps she’d just been one handsome husband-to-be away from losing her wits.

Chapter Nine

Seated beside his future wife, Ned enjoyed dinner as he never had before. He’d never been so eager for the future. In the company of her charm and the proximity of her allure, it was easy to ignore his concerns about George and Aquilla.

When dinner was finished, the women repaired to the drawing room upstairs, while the men remained to enjoy their port. Ned would’ve rather gone with the women, and judging from the longing stare Dartford delivered toward his departing wife’s backside, he gathered he wasn’t alone in that sentiment.

Lord Satterfield lifted his glass. “To welcoming Sutton into the fold. Miss Knox will make you a fine countess.”

“Hear, hear,” the Duke of Kendal, seated to Satterfield’s left, said.

“Felicitations,” Dartford said from Ned’s right.

They all took a long drink of their port and Ned thanked them. He didn’t know any of the other three men very well, but they seemed a decent, pleasant sort. Kendal was known to be aloof, but he’d been very engaging tonight. Perhaps he just preferred the company of those in his inner circle. Ned could understand that. He kept a part of himself reserved from most everyone he met. And now that his wife hunt was over, he could spend less time bothering with social events and more time improving the plight of the deranged as well as focusing on his family. Which would include Aquilla as well as George.

He shifted in his chair, anxious to see Aquilla. She looked so lovely tonight in an ivory gown that reflected the glow of her pale skin. Her hair had been intricately styled, which only made him want to take it apart, curl by curl, and finger every strand to determine which was softest. He was certain each would be more silken than the last.

Dartford turned in his chair and rested his elbow on the table. “Forgive me, Sutton, but since we’re family, I have to ask you something.”

Ned was curious to hear his question, but even more surprised to hear him say they were family. “I fear I’m confused since we are not and will not be related.”

Dartford chuckled. “Satterfield said welcome to the fold, but he really meant family. If Miss Knox hasn’t informed you, the attendees of this party are somewhat of a makeshift family—at least that’s what Lucy told me when we wed.”

Kendal nodded in agreement across the table. “Nora would agree with that.”

“As do I,” Satterfield said. “The moment Miss Knox came to stay with us, she became part of the family. Just as Nora did before her. And of course their friends, by extension, have been welcomed.” He smiled at his stepson-in-law, the duke. “None of us are actually related by blood, are we, my boy?”

The duke’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “We are not, and that means precisely nothing.”

Ned liked that sentiment. Very much. “I think I’ll enjoy being part of this family, thank you.” He looked at Dartford. “What did you want to ask me?”

“Oh yes. That. You’ve quite a reputation for breaking young ladies’ hearts. You’ve no plans to do that to Miss Knox?” There was an edge to Dartford’s voice that reflected his concern. “My apologies, but I had to ask.”

Ned bristled, but decided that if they were family, then perhaps Dartford was merely trying to play the role of father or older brother. The fact that Aquilla had both a father and an older brother begged the question as to why they weren’t here asking those questions. Had they even been invited? The engagement had occurred only two days ago, so perhaps they hadn’t been able to travel here—Ned knew they lived over fifty miles away. Except wasn’t her mother in Town? He pulled himself from his thoughts and answered Dartford’s question. “I have no plans to break her heart. But then I never planned to break anyone’s heart.”

“We never do,” Kendal murmured, causing the other men, including Ned, to laugh. “Never mind the rumors,” he continued. “It’s all nonsense.”

“Agreed,” Dartford said, lifting his glass. “I only thought it our duty to inquire. I am satisfied you have every intention of marrying Miss Knox.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ned said wryly, provoking another round of light laughter. He looked to Satterfield. “I thought Lady Knox was in Town. Was she not able to come this evening?”

Satterfield cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment. “I’m not entirely certain, but I think she may have returned to Bedfordshire.”

How odd. Why wouldn’t she have stayed in Town to help her daughter prepare to marry? He’d wanted a wife who wasn’t particularly close to her family, and it seemed he’d found one.

Satterfield looked between Kendal and Dartford. “Do you young men have any advice for our groom?”

Dartford looked at Ned over the rim of his glass before lifting the port to his lips. He winked as he took a sip. “Learn how to perform the tasks of a lady’s maid.”

Ned smiled. “As it happens, I am quite skilled with my hands.”

Laughter erupted around the table. “I’m certain that’s what your wife will say,” Kendal said drolly.

Ned shook his head, still smiling.

“I would add that you should accept your wife’s counsel in nearly all things,” Satterfield said.

“Nearly?” Kendal asked. He leaned across the table and spoke in a stage whisper. “I would advise you to accept her counsel whenever she offers it.”

“I’m still somewhat new to this,” Dartford said, “but I can see the merit in what he says.” He raised his glass toward the duke.

The duke responded in kind, and both took a drink of port.

Dartford set his glass on the table. “I’m out, gents. Would you mind if we went to join the ladies?”

“No.” Both Ned and the duke answered quickly and in unison.

Satterfield laughed. “Ah, young love.” He tossed back the rest of his port and stood. “Let us adjourn, lads.”

Love. There was that word again. Ned finished his port and got to his feet, eager to join the ladies upstairs. He smoothed his hand over the front of his coat, feeling the small lump on the interior and stifling a smile.

They walked up one flight to the drawing room, where the women were enjoying glasses of sherry. Aquilla’s back was to him on the settee, but she turned her head, which drew his attention to the graceful column of her throat and the pearls nestled against her luminous flesh. She looked beautiful in pearls. He made a mental note to pick up a pair of earrings before the wedding.

He strolled to the seating area and directed his attention to Lady Satterfield. “With your permission, I’d like to escort Miss Knox for a promenade around the garden.”

The countess inclined her head and dashed a look at her ward. “Certainly. There’s a staircase from the back veranda through there.” She gestured to the sitting room at the rear of the town house.

Ned turned to Aquilla and offered his hand. “If you would do me the honor.”

“Of course,” she murmured, placing her hand in his. She was warm, and her skin felt like silk against his. He longed for the time when he could touch far more than her bare hand.

He escorted her into the sitting room and then let her guide him to one of the rear doors. Opening it, she led him onto a small veranda, and as Lady Satterfield had said, there was a staircase down to the garden.

“It’s rather small,” Aquilla said. “The garden—it won’t take us but a few minutes to make a circuit, and that’s if we move at a snail’s pace.”

It was nearly dark outside. The sky was thick with clouds, obscuring any moonlight. Sconces on the porch cast meager illumination, but it was just enough to pick their way down the stairs.

He led the way and held her hand as they descended. “I’m afraid we must go slow. It would be a disaster if I tripped.”

“It’s a good thing it didn’t rain this afternoon. Otherwise, we would’ve had to go downstairs and exit that way. These stairs are quite treacherous if they’re wet.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” he asked as they neared the bottom.

“No, but one of the maids slipped last week and had to spend the whole next day in bed, poor thing.”

He held her hand more tightly and turned his head to look up at her. “I won’t let you fall.”

“I’m not certain I can trust that assessment given that you aren’t even looking where you are going.” She said the last several words with humor and heat.

He grinned as he turned his head to take the last two steps, then, when he’d reached the bottom, spun around abruptly while she was still above him. “Forgive me.”

He set his hands on her waist and lifted her, then swung her around until he set her on the path. There was a sconce on the lower porch that was perfectly placed to light her features. She stared up at him, her lips parted.

He didn’t take his hands away as he edged closer. “I’ve counted the minutes until we could be alone again.”

“Have you?” She sounded breathless.

He nodded, entranced by her beauty, by the spell she’d cast on him. Reluctantly, he took one hand from her waist and reached into his coat. “I have something for you.” He pulled the ring from the small pocket. Taking his other hand from her waist, he found her left hand and held it up into the light. “This belonged to my mother. She wanted my wife to wear it.”

He slipped the ring on her finger, and the emerald glinted in the glow from the sconce.

Her intake of breath surrounded him. She raised her hand and studied the ring, tilting her hand to the left and then to the right. Then she lifted her gaze to his. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Does it fit?” He hadn’t known if it would. “If not, I can have a jeweler fix it.”

She looked down at the ring once more. “It does fit. Perfectly.”

He clasped her fingers and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Then it was meant for you.”

She looked up at him. “Do you miss your parents? It seems as though I should know about your family.”

He flinched inwardly, knowing that he wouldn’t tell her the truth right now. In time. “Yes, somewhat.”

“No wonder you were so keen to find a wife. Are you lonely?” she asked.

“Not particularly.” He bit his tongue lest he tell her about George. He found he wanted to tell her—and he would. After they were settled. Things had moved so very quickly. He thought about her question and what he knew of her family. “Are you lonely?”

She startled, or at least it seemed that way as he felt a tremor in her hand and watched her eyes widen briefly. “Not here.” She pulled her hand from his and turned to walk along the path. “You promised me a promenade.”

She clearly wanted to change the subject. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. He’d have plenty of time to unpeel her layers.

He surveyed the small garden. “I did. And you’re right, we must move so slowly as to perhaps go in reverse.”

She laughed softly, the sound making his flesh tingle. “I wanted to ask you about what will happen after the wedding.”

After? She wasn’t querying him about the marriage bed, was she? He silently admonished himself—of course she wasn’t. He was just absurdly preoccupied with her physical assets at present. But what the hell did he expect. He was alone with her in a nearly dark garden, and they were to be married in nine days. No one would fault him for kissing her. Or for anything else that might happen.

He walked—although that was too fast a word for what they were doing—alongside her, aching to touch her. “I’m not certain what you’re asking. We discussed the breakfast already.” They’d done so at dinner and it was to be held at his town house under Aunt Susannah’s supervision. She was quite thrilled to plan the event. “Are you inquiring as to…later?”

She stopped and turned toward him, her mouth opening to say something and then snapping closed. Color flooded her cheeks. “No, I wasn’t asking about that.”

She turned from him and he heard a quiet…giggle?

“Are you laughing?” he asked.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she pivoted again. He could just make out the sparkle in her blue eyes. “Would you really think I would ask you about that? I realize my reputation is that of a chatterbox, but surely that would be beyond the pale.”

“I don’t care for that description of you. I am quite satisfied with the frequency with which you speak. And no, it isn’t beyond the pale. I can think of no one better to discuss the marriage bed with than one’s own spouse. I would be happy to tell you anything you wish to know.”

She stared at him, her wide eyes catching more of the light. “You want to tell me…things?”

“If you want me to.” The notion of talking to her about sex was incredibly arousing. He felt himself begin to harden.

“I actually only wanted to know where we would be staying that night. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to travel to Sutton Park.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. What did that say about him that he’d leapt to the conclusion he had? “I’m afraid I’m a rather eager groom. I hope that doesn’t frighten you.”

“No.”

“But it makes you feel something.” He couldn’t take another moment of standing this close to her and talking about sex and feelings and wedding nights without touching her. He reached out and gently stroked her collarbone, moving closer to close the gap between them.

He felt her shiver as she nodded.

“Nervous. Worried.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her nostrils flared. “Excited.”

And just like that, he became fully, nearly uncomfortably erect. He glided his fingertips up the side of her throat and stroked the underside of her jaw with the pad of his thumb. “I’m going to kiss you now. Unless you object.”

She shook her head. “Please.” The incongruity of the shake of her head and the invitation from her mouth made him pause.

Yes, she wanted him to kiss her, or no, she didn’t?

She stepped closer until her chest met his. “Kiss me, Sutton.”

He swept his mouth over hers and curled his hand around her nape. Her arms came up around his neck as she opened her mouth and thrust her tongue past his lips. Her boldness surprised him, but he reveled in it. She was inexperienced and so incredibly delightful. He coaxed her tongue to dance with his, showed her a sensuous rhythm, which she quickly learned. Her fingers pulled at his hair as she pressed herself up into him.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, feeling her piles of clothing and damning them all to hell. Bare flesh. He wanted bare flesh. He tore his mouth from hers and kissed along her jaw until he found that tender spot at the top of her neck. He licked her, and she gasped, her fingers thrusting into his hair. God, how he loved her responsiveness. He’d never expected this from his bride. Hoped, yes, but it had—foolishly—never been one of his requirements. Thank heaven he’d found her.

“Sutton,” she murmured.

“Ned. If you prefer, you may call me Ned.” He’d always been Ned among his family. And she was his family.

“Ned.” Her breath came in soft pants as his lips traveled down to the edge of her bodice. She smelled of lavender and sweetness, and he couldn’t get enough of her.

He cupped her breast, and she gasped. He stopped, worried that he’d gone too far. Straightening, he worked to gain control of his thundering pulse and his overheated body. “I’m afraid I became a bit enraptured.”

“Oh.” A faint blush—or at least it looked faint in this light—stained her cheeks. “I think I did too. I don’t really know. I’ve never been enraptured. But I felt as though I might fall down, as if my legs couldn’t really support me any longer. Is that normal?”

She was, without a doubt, the best woman he could’ve chosen. “Yes, I believe so. My legs felt a bit weak too.”

“That’s good, then. Because I’m certain you know what you’re doing. Although, I’ll try not to contemplate that.” She tipped her head to the side. “I don’t think I like thinking of you kissing other women.”

He didn’t think it was possible for him to grow more aroused, but her flash of jealousy provoked him. “Aquilla. The things you say… Please, don’t ever stop talking. Except when I’m kissing you.” He pulled her into his arms again and kissed her thoroughly.

She pulled back. “But what if it’s terribly important?”

“What could be more important than kissing?” He demonstrated by kissing her again and employing his lips and tongue to the very best of his ability.

When he left her mouth to nibble along her jaw, she rasped, “I surely don’t know. Right now, kissing seems to be the only thing of importance.”

He smiled against her skin and held her tightly against him, relishing in the feel of her breasts pressed to his chest.

“But I did have a question, and since my mouth is free, I’ll go ahead and ask. Actually, I asked it earlier. Will we go to Sutton Park after the breakfast or remain in Town?”

A bit of his desire faded at the mention of this topic, but she was quite right in that he hadn’t answered her question. He hadn’t tried to avoid doing so, he’d just become enraptured with her. He pulled back but kept his hands around her waist. “We’ll be staying in Town.”

“I see.”

He couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or happy or simply didn’t have an opinion. “Is that all right?”

“Certainly. I don’t mind being in London. I’ve always preferred it to home, in fact.” She pressed her lips together, and the action made him think that she wished she hadn’t shared that. The mystery of her family grew in his mind. But now was not the time to question her about it, just as now was not the time to broach the subject of why he wished to remain in London instead of going to Sutton Park. Not when he could continue kissing her.

“You’re going to kiss me again,” she said.

He stopped in lowering his head. “How did you know?”

“You get this glint in your eye, this…desire. It makes my knees wobbly.”

She was divine. “Mine too.” He kissed her softly, licking at her mouth and introducing his teeth to graze on her lips. She shivered, which he interpreted as enjoyment.

Until she twitched and gasped into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, concerned. “What?”

“Don’t you feel that? It’s raining.” She looked heavenward and was promptly rewarded with a fat raindrop landing on her nose. “Oh!”

Without thinking, he darted his tongue out and licked the moisture from her flesh. “Delicious.”

The drops started falling in earnest then. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the porch, which was covered by the veranda overhead.

“It’s like when we first met,” she said. “Except this time you were caught in the rain too.”

He’d never appreciated rain more than in that moment. “I don’t think I’ll ever see rain in the same light.”

“Me neither.”

He led her inside, where they kissed some more until they were both breathless, and he feared he would never be able to make himself presentable for everyone upstairs.

She eyed him with a sultry gaze. “We’ve been gone an awfully long time.”

“Yes, we should go back up.” He willed his body to return to a less rigid state.

The room they were in was a sort of library, and they made their way through it to the dining room before entering the hall. As they did so, the butler stopped them. Thankfully, he didn’t reflect even a bit of surprise or concern at seeing them alone together. “My lord, this arrived for you.”

He handed Ned a folded parchment, which he immediately began to tuck into his coat.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” she asked.

“Later.”

“But what if it’s important?”

Hell, what if it was about George? How could he be so careless?

Because he’d been rather swept away.

Pushing away his frustration, he opened the paper and read the short contents.

Sutton,

I understand you obtained a license today to marry Miss Knox. I’d already had the banns read at our parish church yesterday in Lindsell. You’re a vile thief, and if I were a lesser man, I would call you out. I encourage you to stay clear of me.

Lindsell

Ned suppressed the urge to laugh. As if the jackanapes would have the courage to call him out. Ned was slightly disappointed.

Aquilla stood at his side and peered up at him. “What is it? You look amused.”

“I am. Lindsell is suffering a fit of pique due to our impending nuptials. I’m apparently lucky he’s not going to challenge me to a duel.”

She lifted her hand to her mouth. “You’re joking.”

“No, but it’s a joke to be sure. He wouldn’t duel anyone any sooner than I plan to avoid him.”

She frowned. “You aren’t going to agitate him, are you?”

“No, I’m going to ignore him. A month from now, I doubt I shall even recall his name.”

Her features relaxed, and her lips found their way to a smile. “Who?”

Oh yes, he liked his wife-to-be very much indeed.

Chapter Ten

Married. Aquilla still wasn’t sure it was real. And yet the wedding breakfast bustled around her. Her new home—Ned’s town house—was larger than Satterfield House, and it easily supported the hundred or so people in attendance. Unused to being the center of attention, she’d maneuvered her way into the corner and now had a surprising moment of solitude.

She looked down at the emerald on her finger, which she still wasn’t used to wearing. It was as if she inhabited a dream, but then the entire last week had passed like one. Lady Satterfield had insisted on several new gowns, including the one Aquilla was wearing now and had worn for the ceremony earlier at St. George’s. And so many people had called to pay their respects and offer their congratulations—people who’d never looked twice at Aquilla before. But now that she was to be a countess…

And not just any countess. She’d brought the notorious Duke of Deception up to scratch. Not that anyone else referred to him in that manner—that remained a private joke between Aquilla and her friends. Still, his reputation was not a secret, and everyone was eager to meet the woman who’d done the impossible.

A few of the callers, married women who were Aquilla’s age or a bit older, had admitted that they’d once undergone his consideration. They’d asked Aquilla what she’d done to be successful. Of course she hadn’t been able to answer that question, but it had made her curious. What about her was different? Why had he chosen her?

The people who hadn’t come to visit or in any way participated in the wedding preparations were her parents. They’d arrived just yesterday, along with her older brother, Paul, and his wife, Jane. Lady Satterfield had invited them to stay at Satterfield House, but had told Aquilla that her father had declined. This—naturally—delighted Aquilla. If only they hadn’t come at all.

Involuntarily—it was a habit she’d long since developed out of self-preservation—she scanned the large drawing room in search of her father and her brother. They stood in a foursome near the fireplace. The men were talking while Aquilla’s mother and sister-in-law stood silent, their eyes blank, their features stiff. Aquilla’s gut clenched, and she forced herself to look away.

Too late. Her father had made eye contact, and now he was coming toward her.

Panicking, she chastised herself for going off alone. Now she was easy prey. Hopefully, someone would come and interrupt. She was the bride after all.

Father strode toward her, his rounded gut reaching her before the rest of him. “I can scarcely believe you are a countess. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Her brother had followed him. He was taller than their father, nearly six feet, and more handsome. He hadn’t yet earned the red nose and spidery veins that evidenced their father’s fondness for whiskey.

“Well done, sister,” Paul said. It should’ve been a kind compliment, but since he sneered while he drawled the words, Aquilla saw it for what it was—condescension.

“Thank you. It was kind of you both to come.”

“It wasn’t kind,” Father said sharply. “It was necessary. I’m still very put out that you didn’t marry Lindsell. Your husband sought the license before he’d even received my approval.”

Aquilla hadn’t known that. She’d received an angry, hate-filled letter from her father last Monday but hadn’t mentioned it to Ned. What would be the point? She’d assumed Ned had also received a letter that day and had gone to obtain the license after that.

She reminded herself that she didn’t have to be afraid of this man anymore, that she was out of his reach. “It hardly signifies since the deed is done.”

“Careful, gel. Don’t forget about your dear mother.” He shot a glance toward the fireplace, where she still stood in silence next to Jane.

It was a threat, and one he’d wielded more and more since Aquilla had confronted him three years ago. Once she’d witnessed the depth of his abuse toward her mother, Aquilla had begged him to stop.

But it had only taken one warning from him to send her scurrying away. He was happy to provide her with the same treatment, meaning physical abuse, if she cared to put her nose where it didn’t belong.

“You’ve always been a cheeky bitch,” Paul said, shaking his head.

Aquilla stiffened. They dared speak to her like that here? In her own home? If it wasn’t her wedding breakfast and they weren’t surrounded by the cream of the ton, she would’ve asked Ned to throw them out. Except then they would just take their anger out on their wives.

She forced a smile that she was sure came out looking like some sort of nasty grimace. “I do thank you for coming.”

Her father snatched her elbow as she started to walk past him, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Remember where you came from, gel.”

How could she ever forget?

He released her, and she held her head high as she walked away on watery legs. She hated that he still had the power to intimidate her. If it weren’t for her mother, maybe she would be able to turn her back on him for good.

She altered her course and walked to her mother and Jane. Both of their eyes reflected surprise and then wariness.

“Did he ask you to come over here?” Mother asked in a low tone.

“No. I only wanted to tell you,” she glanced at Jane, “and you, that if you ever need to come and stay with me—either here or at Sutton Park, you are more than welcome. Stay one night, stay for the Season, stay forever.”

“They’re coming,” Jane whispered, her eyes alight with fear.

Aquilla noticed a dark mark on Jane’s neck. It was mostly concealed with powder, but Aquilla had learned to recognize such things on her mother. She looked at her sister-in-law with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Jane.”

“Go,” Mother urged. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” She took Aquilla’s hand and gave it a quick, firm squeeze. “Please remember what I said—don’t trust him. Never, ever trust him.”

Her eyes went blank, and Aquilla knew her father and brother must be near. She walked away, wishing there was something she could do and knowing there wasn’t. Brushing past people, she went outside to the terrace. It had rained early that morning, but the sun had decided to present itself when they’d emerged from the church. Lady Satterfield had said it was the heavens bestowing their approval on their marriage.

“Aquilla?” Ned’s concerned query dashed across the back of her neck.

She turned to face him, her body still tight with frustration.

“Is something the matter? I saw you talking with your father and your brother.” He frowned. “I saw your father grab your arm.”

Oh no, she wished he hadn’t. “He only wanted to offer me happiness.” She nearly choked on the words.

The concern in his expression didn’t fade. “Now is perhaps not the time, but I’ve been meaning to ask you about your family, about why they weren’t involved in planning the wedding.”

“My father is still disappointed that I chose to marry you instead of Lindsell.”

Ned took her hand and stroked his thumb along her fingers. He did that often. She found it soothing and just lovely. “So he wasn’t wishing you happiness. You can tell me anything. I take my responsibility as your husband quite seriously. Furthermore, if anyone causes you grief, I will put an end to it.”

There was a steel to his vow that made her tingle. She believed he would champion her.

But then her mother’s warning came back to her—never, ever trust him.

Except she was fairly certain Ned wasn’t like her father. Perhaps she was being naïve, but time would tell. “There’s no need, really. My family is just…difficult.”

He drew her farther away from the door. “In what way?”

The words burned her tongue. She’d told Lucy and Ivy a bit of it, but there was so much more. So many things she couldn’t bring herself to say. The verbal abuse she’d witnessed as a child had been bad enough, but knowing her father had backed all of it up with his hands made her terrified of finding herself in a similar situation.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him. Not now. She clasped his hand and held it to her chest. “I’d rather not discuss it today. And maybe not ever. There are simply some…things that are better left between family.” She winced. “Not that you aren’t family. But I see you as my new family. My old family is the past, and I don’t expect we’ll have much to do with them.”

“I see.” His brow was still creased in little worry-filled pleats. There was also a glint in his eye as he darted a glance back toward the drawing room. He looked at her again and held her hand to his mouth, kissing the back. “I promised to keep you safe, and I will. I understand the desire to keep certain things inviolate. Someday, we’ll share everything, I’m sure.”

She had the sense he wasn’t just speaking of her secrets. Did he have secrets too?

He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “We should return to our guests.”

She kissed him back, eager to lose herself in his touch. She knew what was coming later, when they were alone, had quizzed Lucy mercilessly about what to expect. And she’d much rather focus on that than the darkness of her family.

He pulled back, and his lips sprawled into a devastatingly handsome grin. “If you keep doing that, we’re going to ignore our guests completely.”

She shrugged as she smoothed her hand over his cravat. “I can’t say that I’d mind.”

He groaned and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Come, temptress.”

Giggling, she walked with her husband back into the house, her troubles of ten minutes ago nearly forgotten.

“Will there be anything else, my lord?” Ned’s valet asked from near the door to Ned’s bedchamber.

Ned stood in front of the fireplace and turned his head. “No, thank you, Connor.”

“May I offer my congratulations once more, my lord?”

Ned smiled. His staff was quite overjoyed at his marriage. “Thank you.”

As the door snapped closed behind Connor, Ned stared into the burning coals. It felt odd to be married—good but odd. He wished George had been there but was grateful he had Aunt Susannah. Though his family was small, it seemed a fair bit better than Aquilla’s.

He’d seen the way her father and brother looked at her. Indeed, the way they looked at their wives and at everyone, really, made him uncomfortable. Then he’d seen Sir Chester Knox grab Aquilla’s—his wife’s—arm, and he’d nearly lost his composure. Not wanting to make a scene that would feed the gossiping vultures for months, he’d watched and waited before following Aquilla outside.

Her tension had been palpable, and he’d wanted to ease her stress. There was clearly more to the issue than she told him, but he wouldn’t press her. As he’d said, they would share everything someday.

Someday.

When was that, exactly?

His conscience reminded him that he was also withholding information. He then reminded his conscience that it was with good reason. And he would respect that his wife had equally good reason.

A soft rap on the door connecting his chamber to Aquilla’s pulled him from his reverie. Tightening the tie on his banyan, he walked to the door and opened it.

Gazing at him shyly from the other side of the threshold stood his bride. She wore a pale but opaque night rail, and her hair lay over her shoulder in a single thick braid. He frowned, planning to dismantle it as soon as possible.

“You’re not ready?” she asked tentatively.

He realized he was frowning, which was conveying the absolutely wrong sentiment. He shook his head and lifted one corner of his mouth self-deprecatingly. “I am. I was mentally unraveling your braid. I’ve been eager to see your hair loose. It looks rather curly, and I’d like to know how that feels in my fingers.”

Color rose in her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “Oh.” Her lips twisted, making her appear nervous. “I can tell you how it feels. Unruly.”

He laughed. “I like unruly.”

“Your hair has a slight curl,” she observed, looking at his mop.

“Yes, but very slight. It isn’t remotely the same.” His was several shades lighter, and hers was long and lush, and he knew it smelled of lavender and honey. “This is an odd conversation.”

“Yes. I’m rather good at those,” she said.

He remembered her attempts to deter him. “But that was on purpose, was it not? I’ve been curious as to why you behaved that way.”

“I didn’t really want to marry, and it was an effective defense. If a gentleman showed interest, I simply bored him to distraction, and he moved on.”

“Fools, the lot of them.”

She laughed. “Perhaps. But I’m quite skilled. In my youth, I talked incessantly. Thankfully, my nurse was a patient and intelligent woman. She answered every single question I posed, and when she didn’t know the answer, we searched for it together. Although I think I rather stumped her with how far away the sun and moon are.”

He couldn’t help smiling as he leaned against the doorframe. “Do you like astronomy?”

She nodded. “I like many things. I hope I’ll like this.” She inclined her head toward his room. “Is that where we’re going?”

He realized, stupidly, that he was standing in a doorway with his bride on their wedding night. She might bore other men—and he thanked God for that—but she absolutely captivated him. He straightened. “Yes. Or we can go to your chamber, if you prefer.”

She started forward and glanced up at him. “May I?”

“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside to allow her entry, and cursed himself for behaving like an idiot. He blamed her beauty and her charm for thoroughly distracting him.

She sauntered into his chamber and made a slow circuit. “Yours is much bigger.”

He stifled a smile at the double meaning her words could carry. But then what would she be comparing him to? He was entirely certain she was a virgin.

“Will it suffice?” He nearly laughed out loud but managed to keep a rein on himself.

“I think I prefer it to mine. Even your bed is larger.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He laughed.

She looked at him sharply. “What’s so amusing?”

He crossed to her and took her face in his hands, kissing her swiftly but fiercely. “You. You make me laugh and feel…good.”

Her blush resurfaced, and she glanced toward the fire. “Thank you.” When she returned her gaze to his, her regular color had returned. “I suppose we should get into the bed?”

“We can, yes.” He suddenly had images of her in all manner of places and positions, none of them involving a bed. “Or not.” He shook the titillating ideas from his mind. “This is your first time, so the bed is probably proper.”

“Proper?” She arched a brow at him and went to the bed, where she smoothed her hand over the coverlet. “I asked my nurse about this too. I asked her how babies were made, and she explained it to me. I said that couldn’t be proper. She told me that if I were lucky, I would marry a man who would ensure that it wasn’t. I still don’t really know what she meant by that.”

Ned went hard as a rock. “Ah, I think I understand.”

She climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows. Then she patted the space next to her. “Why don’t you come and tell me?”

She wanted him to tell her? “I could, instead, show you,” he offered.

“Yes, I expect you will,” she said, her eyes narrowing seductively. Had she done that on purpose? Did she have any idea how alluring she was? How easily and effectively she was arousing him by just talking?

“I’ve just decided that you’ve taken conversation to a new level. Your ability with words quite transcends simple discussion.”

Her lips spread into a gorgeous grin that made her eyes sparkle like an untouched lake he’d seen once in the Highlands. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He moved onto the bed, causing the mattress to dip as he settled next to her. “Am I to tell you how we will be improper or show you?”

“Both, I think. Why did she say I would be lucky?” Her brow was furrowed with genuine curiosity.

He was enthralled by her lack of guile. “I believe she was referring to the manner in which your husband would introduce you to his bed. Uh, there are many ways to be intimate.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that from Lucy. She’s made it all sound incredibly spectacular—like the very best thing I’ll ever experience.” She looked away from him briefly, and he sensed her nervousness creeping back in. “I don’t believe it’s like that for every woman, however.”

“No, I don’t believe that it is. That is likely what your nurse meant.” He scooted closer to her and lightly caressed her jaw. “Aquilla, would you like me to be frank?”

She exhaled. “Yes, please.”

“There are many ways to have sex, but the most important thing is that you—and I—enjoy it.”

“That’s a given, isn’t it? I mean, why would you continue to do something if you don’t like it?”

“Ah, I think in many cases, people might continue out of a sense of duty. There are some men who don’t particularly care if a woman enjoys herself. I am not one of those men.”

Her mouth formed an O, and he thought she comprehended his meaning. Her lids drooped, making her gaze seductive and intensely arousing. “I find that unsurprising. I think I will fully understand once you show me.” She wiggled down the bed until she was lying flat on her back. “I’m ready.”

He smiled, his cock harder than it had maybe ever been. “I am too.” His gaze dipped down, and she followed it until she caught sight of the shape beneath his banyan.

“I can see that,” she murmured.

While she was a virgin, she seemed to at least be somewhat educated, what with her nurse and Lady Dartford filling her head. He also presumed that Lady Satterfield had conducted some sort of discussion.

He stretched out beside her and dug his elbow into the mattress so he could prop his head on his hand. With his free hand, he plucked at the tie of her night rail, loosening the neck opening, which already exposed her collarbones and a good portion of her chest above her breasts. “You seem to have expectations. Would you like to share them?”

“Not, ah, particularly.” Her answer came out higher than her usual voice.

He leaned over her, growing serious. “At any moment, you may tell me to stop. If you are uncomfortable in any way, tell me to stop. If you’d rather postpone this to another time, tell me to stop.” His body tightened as he fervently prayed that she would do no such thing.

“I don’t want you to stop. I do like that you’re talking to me. Maybe if you just continued with that.”

Yes, she’d taken talking somewhere he’d never imagined it. And he wasn’t the least bit sorry.

“Would you like me to explain as I go?”

Candles on either side of the bed splashed her in warm, seductive light. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “I suppose I should tell you what I expect. That way you can skip the parts I already know.”

He moved closer until his leg grazed hers. “Oh yes, please. Do tell.”

She glanced down but didn’t flinch or try to edge away from him. “I know there is kissing—and I quite like that.” She stared at his mouth, and it took everything he had not to throw himself on top of her and kiss her until they were both mindless.

“There’s also touching. Lucy said you might be obsessed with my breasts. Do you think that will happen?”

His mouth went dry. “I think it could. But I really won’t know until I see them.”

“Well, have a look, then.” She reached up and tugged her night rail down to expose two smooth, pale globes. They were neither too big nor too small. They were, as he’d expected, perfect.

He summoned enough moisture in his mouth to speak. “They are lovely. The true test, however, comes when I touch them. And my obsession—if that is where I end up, and I do believe that’s quite possible, if not inevitable—will likely become your obsession. Because where I will be helpless to keep from touching them and kissing them, you will beg me to do so.”

Her gaze snapped to his, and she arched a brow. “You are awfully confident in your abilities.”

She had him there, but he wouldn’t deny it. He generally kept a mistress during the Season and hadn’t this year because he’d spent so much time working with Dr. Paget. “Then you be the judge.”

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he cupped her breast. The warm mound filled his palm. He dragged his thumb over the nipple and felt it harden, but didn’t look. He was too entranced by the wonder in her gaze. He massaged her and stroked her, using his fingers to entice and arouse.

“This here is where you’re most sensitive, I think.” He squeezed her nipple gently. “Am I right?”

“Yes.” The word came out on an exhalation.

He pulled lightly, then cupped her again, then went back to her nipple in a rhythmic pattern. Her eyes glazed, and her lids grew heavy, dropping low as she let out a soft moan.

Her eyes opened wider. “My goodness. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“There might be many things you don’t mean to do, and I want to encourage you to do every one of them. In my opinion, inhibitions have no place in our bed. That, my love, is how we will get to improper.”

She curled her hand around his neck, her fingers digging lightly into his flesh. “Show me, please.”

He leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth, heard her sharp exhalation, saw her close her eyes and cast her head back, and he surrendered to his desire.

Pivoting, he lay flush against her as he suckled her. Her hand tangled in the back of his hair, and desperate little moans escaped her mouth, igniting his lust to a feverish degree.

“Is this…normal?” she rasped.

He heard the question, but it took a moment for him to process what she was asking. And even then, he wasn’t sure. Lifting his head, he gazed down at her. Her eyes were open, but just barely.

“Is what normal?” Certainly not his voice, which had dropped and sounded as though he’d swallowed gravel.

“How I…feel. You touch me here.” She touched her breast. “And I feel it…lower.

Male pride swelled in his chest as he skimmed his hand along her ribs and over her belly until he found the mound between her legs. He pressed lightly, through the barrier of her night rail. “You mean, here?”

She gasped. “Yes.”

“I believe that’s quite normal. It also means I’m doing a fair job.”

“I think that’s an excellent assessment. Although, so far, there has been no kissing.” Her eyes opened a bit wider, and he saw teasing admonishment in her gaze. “Didn’t I tell you I liked kissing?”

“So you did. My apologies.” He scooted upward, which brought his pelvis against her thigh. “There are many types of kissing, however. Which do you prefer?”

She tugged at the back of his neck. “All of them?”

Chuckling, he swooped down and claimed her mouth, his lips taking control of hers, licking and suckling them as she gripped him tightly with her fingers. He pulled back and spoke against her mouth. “There are soft kisses.” He teased her with his lips, barely touching her.

“Those aren’t kisses at all,” she said crossly, jerking her head back even though it had nowhere to go since the pillow was beneath her head. She looked up at him with a prim expression that was completely at odds with the way her body sprawled beneath his. “May I?”

“Please.”

She cupped his face with her hands and settled her lips on his. She nibbled at his lower lip, demonstrating that she was a quick study. Then she thrust her tongue into his mouth and met his, coaxing him—it didn’t take much—to give her what she was giving him.

He sank into her, careful not to crush her with his weight. This was a mutual exploration, a conquest, but he didn’t think there would be a clear victor. No, they would both win in the end.

His hand knocked against her braid, and he broke away from kissing her to pull it loose, unraveling the hair with quick flicks of his hand. As the curls came free, he thrust his fingers into the soft locks. “I can’t believe I almost forgot. And yes, it feels as good—no, it feels better—than I imagined.” He buried his face in the mass and inhaled her lavender scent.

She cleared her throat. “Now you’ve forgotten about the kissing.”

He twined his hand in her hair and looked down into the stirring blue of her eyes. “I did not. I’m thinking about how I want to kiss you now. Or better yet…where.”

Her eyes slitted, and she tugged his head down to hers. Their mouths met, open and greedy as their bodies pressed into each other. She rose up, her pelvis seeking. He brushed his hand down her side and clutched her hip as he pushed himself between her thighs. She opened for him, and he thrust up against her core so that she could feel him right where she wanted him.

She moaned into his mouth, and her grip on his neck tightened. He ended the kiss with a gentle tug on her lower lip before descending lower. He dragged his tongue along her throat and found her breast once more. This time, she arched off the bed and held him fast against her.

“Ned. Is this the improper part yet?”

He smiled against her breast. “We’re just getting started. Just remember that if we don’t get to everything tonight—and we won’t—we have plenty of opportunity for impropriety the rest of our lives.”

“Oh. Yes, please. Could you, um, do what you were doing a moment ago? Between my legs…”

He rotated his hips and pressed his cock against her heat. She met him, opening her thighs to receive him.

“Yes, that. Please. That.”

He pulled on her nipple as he thrust between her thighs. She met each pulse, lifting her hips from the bed and driving him to the brink of coherent thought.

“When are we going to remove our clothes?”

Her innocent and very appropriate question broke through his sexual haze. “I was distracted,” he muttered, suddenly desperate to feel her naked against him. He tugged at the neck of her night rail and drew the garment down her belly, exposing a beautiful, creamy expanse of flesh that he longed to explore. He just wasn’t sure he had the patience for that tonight.

He pulled the garment lower, over her hips and past her thighs, then stripped it from her legs and cast it aside. The temptation of her sex beckoned him, but her hands pulled at his banyan. With a flick of his wrist, he untied the sash around his waist, and the robe gaped open.

She came up off the bed and knelt before him to push the garment from his shoulders. It pooled around his wrists, but she tugged the silk and thrust it away.

She splayed her hands, palms down, on his chest, skimming over his flesh as she explored him. Her fingertips found one of his nipples, and she tweaked it lightly. “Does this feel the same for you?”

“I can’t say for certain. It feels good, but I don’t feel it in my—” He’d been about to say cock, but censored himself. “Down there,” he finished.

“I see.” She lowered her hand, drawing her finger down his stomach until she reached his groin. “You mean, here?” she asked, echoing his earlier question. She curled her hand around his shaft, and he moaned.

“Aquilla.”

“Is this improper?”

“Not for me. It’s the most proper thing ever. But yes, probably improper as far as most people are concerned. It would be more improper if you stroked it.” He put his hand over hers and showed her how to caress him from base to tip. “Yes, just like that.” He closed his eyes and lost himself in her touch.

“I’m confused. Is improper good or bad?”

“Anything you do to me is good. So very, very good.” He couldn’t stand much more without finishing himself in her hand.

He pushed her back onto the mattress and came over her, settling himself between her thighs.

“I know what happens next,” she said, breathless. “I think.”

“What do you want to happen next?” He was trying so hard to go slowly and to make this first time exceptional for her.

“I want what Lucy was talking about. Ecstasy, she said.”

He slid to the left and brought his hand to the apex at her thighs. He was fairly certain she was ready and when he touched her, found that she was hot and wet. Beyond ready. Best to make sure, he told himself. So he slipped a finger into her folds. God, so wet.

She clutched at his shoulders as she bucked off the bed. “Dear Lord! Ned!”

He withdrew and rubbed his finger over her clitoris. She gasped sharply. “Again. Please.”

He thrust into her and used his thumb to press on her flesh. She moved with him, moaning in a dark, splendorous rhythm that stoked his desire. Her muscles tightened, gripping his finger, and he knew she was close. He pumped faster and increased the pressure of his thumb. She cried out, and he kissed her hard and deep.

He stayed with her, stroking, until she slowed and settled back into the mattress, breaking the kiss. He withdrew his finger but smoothed his hand over her heated flesh. Her breath came in rapid, thoroughly sensual pants.

She looked up at him, her eyes dusky, her mouth tipped into a satisfied curl. “That was lovely, but I know we aren’t finished.”

If he’d had any doubt about his choice of wife, it completely vanished. “No, we are not.”

She reached up and tugged at his nape. “Good. Let’s make this really improper.”

Chapter Eleven

Watching Ned’s eyes turn from storm-cloud gray to liquid silver was perhaps the best thing Aquilla had ever seen. She knew she was being a tad ridiculous, talking so much during what was supposed to be a serious occasion, but she couldn’t help herself. From a very young age, she’d talked to ease the tension in a room. It had taken years for her to understand what that tension was from, but by then it was too late.

She supposed that was what she was doing tonight—easing the tension. Still, she worried it was annoying. Although he didn’t seem annoyed. No, he seemed to be enjoying himself, particularly when she touched his cock. That word nearly made her giggle. That was what Lucy had called it, and yes, they’d giggled about it. She would blame Lucy, then.

“You have an odd look on your face,” Ned remarked.

She realized she’d been caught woolgathering, which was perhaps her second-greatest fault after the chattering. “I was just hoping that I’m not irritating you with my conversation.”

“On the contrary,” he said, sweeping down to tug at her lip with his teeth. A delicious shiver raced up her spine, and where she’d felt utterly replete a moment ago, she was now eager for more. She began to understand what Lucy had meant when she’d said that she might feel insatiable.

“Do you know,” he drawled between kisses, “I find your mouth utterly enticing,” more kissing, “no matter what it’s doing.” More kissing. “Talking, kissing…whatever else.”

She thought of everything Lucy had told her and wondered if he was referring to her putting her mouth on his cock. Would he like that? Lucy said that her husband did. So much.

The tip of his cock nudged at her sex, which still felt warm and tingly from what she’d just experienced. An “orgasm,” Lucy had said. Aquilla was grateful she had a friend to educate her, but had to admit the actual practice was far better.

She reached down between them and found the tip of his shaft. It was surprisingly wet. “Is this moisture from me?” she asked.

He’d left her mouth and started licking at the edge of her ear before snagging his teeth on her lobe. A shiver raced up her neck. “Perhaps, but it’s likely mine. Do you know what happens next?”

“Yes, you put your cock inside me.”

He jerked back and looked at her. “Why am I surprised? I shouldn’t be.”

She flashed him a smile. “Probably not.”

“You are unparalleled, and I am so lucky.” He kissed her mouth again and then trailed his lips to her breast.

Oh, how she loved his mouth on her breast, particularly when he drew on her nipple—she gasped—just like that.

His fingers stroked her, and the hunger he’d just sated stirred anew. She’d enjoyed what she’d just experienced but somehow knew there was more to come, and not just because Lucy had told her. She suspected it might be something even better.

He situated his shaft at her entrance. “I, ah, don’t have experience with virgins, I must admit.”

“Me neither.”

He grinned. “Incomparable.” He looked into her eyes. “Hold on, and please, tell me if you want me to stop.”

He started to push into her, his cock stretching her flesh to accommodate his girth. It felt quite different than his finger had. Not bad but not necessarily good. At least not yet. “Could you stop?” she asked, thinking that would be a disappointment for him.

“Damn. Yes.” His voice sounded strained, as if he were having a splinter removed from his thumb. He paused, half inside her, or so she surmised. “Do you want me to?”

She shook her head. “Are you in yet?”

He exhaled, and she heard his relief. “Not quite.” He slid in farther, and his finger grazed her clitoris—the spot he’d pressed on earlier that had caused quite spectacular sensations.

She moaned, wanting him to touch her like that again. “Ned, could you do that again?”

He stroked it with more intention this time, swirling his thumb over her. Something broke apart within her and she relaxed, letting her legs fall open.

He slipped all the way in, filling her. “There. Now I’m in.” He stroked the curls away from her temple. “Are you all right?”

“It feels…strange. But good. I think.”

“Perhaps this will feel better.” He withdrew, not quite all the way, and then pushed forward once more. This second intrusion was much better—and faster, but still slow. He slid deep, and again something twitched. What had felt good before, now felt really good.

“Do that again,” she said.

He did as she requested, pulling out and pushing back in. “The friction of it,” she said, her voice sounding unfamiliar to her own ears. “It’s divine. Again. Faster maybe. Deeper.”

“May I suggest an adjustment?” he asked. At her nod, he continued. She saw the fine droplets of sweat on his forehead and the strain of the veins in his throat. He was working very hard to keep his control. She suddenly wanted him to lose it.

“Yes, anything.” She wanted to push him over the edge, and she’d do whatever it took.

He gripped her hips and slid his hands down her thighs to lift her legs so that they encircled his waist. “If you bend your legs a bit, I can go deeper.” He ended on a groan as he slid in farther than he had yet.

“Oh yes, I see what you mean.” She clasped his waist and curled her legs around him.

He drove into her then, flooding her core with pleasure that fanned out over her body. She cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss her. He met her mouth with a fierce passion that matched her own. Their tongues clashed as he pumped in and out of her. She’d wanted him to lose control, but feared she would be too far gone to notice.

Anticipation built, whipping her desire into a near frenzy. She broke the kiss as she sought air to fill her lungs.

He moved faster, creating more friction, and the pressure in her core reached its limit. She broke into pieces and only hoped she’d be able to find them all later. Or not. She didn’t care just now. She never wanted this ecstasy to end.

He continued to thrust, and each one only increased her pleasure. Then he shouted her name and buried himself deep, his lips latching on to hers. She kissed him, knowing that he had lost himself. And it was just the first of many encounters.

She could hardly wait.

He slowed, then came to a stop. She stroked her fingers through his hair and pressed kisses along his lips and his jaw as he drew breath after breath to calm his racing heart—she could feel him against her chest.

After a moment, he kissed her swiftly, his lips lingering against hers. But then he was gone, rolling to his side and off the bed.

He returned quickly with a cloth. “This can be a bit messy.”

She sat up and took the cloth from him to tidy herself. “Yes, I heard about that too. Worth it, however, if you ask me.”

He laughed and kissed her again. “You have far exceeded my expectation, my lady.”

My lady.

Yes, she was a countess now. His countess. She liked the sound of that.

He left again, and she finished her ministrations When he returned, he took the cloth from her wordlessly and disposed of it somewhere. On his next return, he handed her the night rail he’d stripped from her earlier.

She took it from him but stared at his bare chest. He was magnificent. Next time, she would spend more time exploring—and appreciating.

“Are you putting your robe back on?” she asked.

“I wasn’t going to,” he said slowly. “I thought you might want to don your gown to return to your room.”

Oh. Lucy had told her that she and Dartford slept in the same bed. That wasn’t the norm, at least Aquilla didn’t think that it was, but now that she was here, she found she didn’t want to leave. Not tonight anyway.

She held the night rail to her chest. “Do you want me to leave?”

He blinked, his expression one of surprise. “I…no. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I’d prefer to stay. And since you aren’t putting on your robe, I won’t wear my gown.” She dropped it over the side of the bed.

He drew in a sharp breath. “You are a singular woman, Aquilla.” He crawled over her, pressing her back into the mattress. “And you’re mine.” The words came out as a growl, and they heated her, stoking her desire anew.

“Are we going to do that again?” she asked hopefully.

He exhaled, and she heard a tone of regret in the sound. “Not right now. I don’t want you to be overly sore. This is new for your body.”

“But not yours.” It was a half question, and she knew the answer.

“No, but I’ll admit I’m a bit rusty.” He arched a brow at her and gave her a sly smile.

“Oh good.” She kissed him, and they lost themselves to each other for several minutes.

He rolled to his side and gathered her against him. “We should sleep.”

She yawned, realizing she was exhausted. But then, it had been a long day. It was hard to believe that just a day ago, she’d been simple Miss Aquilla Knox. And now she was the Countess of Sutton. And the Duchess of Deception. She laughed softly.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“I was just thinking how strange this is—how quickly this all progressed.”

“And I was just thinking how lucky I am.”

She smiled to herself and fell asleep before the smile could fade from her lips.

Muffled noises roused her sometime later. She rolled over and found nothing but a cold bed. Blinking, she sat up. The light from the fire wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to make out the shape of her husband seated on the bench at the end of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Her voice came out as a croak.

The shadowy shape stood and circled around the bed. “I need to leave,” he said softly. “It’s very early—not even light yet.”

“Where are you going?”

“I need to go to Sutton Park.”

“Why? I’ll go with you.” She pushed the coverlet away and started to rise, belatedly realizing she was nude. She shrugged, supposing it didn’t matter. He’d seen all of her.

“No, you sleep. I’ll be back tonight. I promise.” He kissed her and twisted one of her curls around his finger. He smiled as he pulled away, and her heart turned over. “Sleep well.”

She watched him go and then fell back against the bed, pulling the coverlet up to her chin. She snuggled down, eager to reclaim sleep.

But her mind had other ideas. Instead of sleeping, she thought back over the wedding ceremony and the breakfast. Which led her to think of her father and her mother. Which led her to think of her mother’s warnings. Had her wedding night been like this? When had Father turned on her, showing her his true nature? They’d never discussed the specifics, and indeed, she might’ve kept everything secret from Aquilla if Aquilla hadn’t witnessed him hitting her three years ago.

Mother had always cautioned Aquilla never to fall in love with her husband and to keep her distance whenever possible. After that, Aquilla had understood why. But now that she’d married Ned, she wasn’t sure she needed to heed that advice. Except… Did she really know him that well? One night of bliss didn’t mean she knew him.

She remembered their conversation on the terrace earlier. He’d said that someday they’d share everything and had included himself in that statement. It could mean he had secrets, or it could mean he was stating the obvious: that they didn’t know each other well but would come to.

She yawned as sleep finally began to steal over her. As she drifted off, she recalled that he hadn’t answered her question. He hadn’t told her why he was going to Sutton Park.

The shadows of the copse surrounded Ned as his worry began to mount. George had somehow gotten out of the house sometime in the night and, hours later, they still couldn’t find him.

Every available retainer, along with Ned and Dr. Paget, was scouring the property, but Sutton Park had over two hundred acres, some of it wooded and some of it hilly. Ned had taken part of the forest and hoped someone else had found him.

Suddenly, a distant memory flitted into his mind. A vision of George climbing a tree—to reach Ned.

Ned took off running. It took him several minutes, but he finally caught sight of the large oak tree. He didn’t slow until he’d reached the trunk. Gulping air, he looked up and saw George, his legs dangling from a branch.

George laughed. “Finally! I didn’t think you were ever going to find me.”

The fear Ned had felt gave way to anger, but he quickly packed that away and gave in to relief. “Is this a game?”

“Yes, it’s your turn to hide.” George started to climb down.

Ned watched him, worried he might fall until he remembered how fond George had been of climbing trees. When he dropped to the ground beside Ned, it was almost as if they were boys again.

“I don’t want to hide out here,” Ned said. “It’s going to rain again.” He looked up at the gray sky. It might actually stay dry, but Ned wanted to get George inside. He’d been out here for hours wearing only a shirt and a coat. “Aren’t you cold?” Ned asked, eyeing George’s red nose.

“A bit. All right, we can go back to the house. But you have to promise to play later—inside if we must.”

“I promise.” Ned realized he’d made another promise that morning, to return to his bride that night. He hoped that would be possible.

They started back toward the house and the wind picked up, rustling Ned’s hair.

“Brrr!” George exclaimed, wrapping his arms around himself. “I guess I am cold.”

Ned noticed how lucid his brother sounded. He loved these moments. “That’s what you get for going outside without being properly dressed.”

“Yes, yes,” George said, sounding exasperated. “You sound just like Nurse.”

Ned grinned, so happy to hear George remembering something. “She would’ve forbidden us from going outside today.”

“Probably. And we would’ve sneaked out anyway.”

“True.” This felt so good. So normal. Ned was tempted to tell him about Aquilla, but he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Dr. Paget yet.

“Ned, why don’t you stay here all the time?”

Ned tensed as they walked up the hill toward the house. “I have responsibilities in London that I must see too. I come home as often as I can.”

“What’s more important than me?”

“Nothing’s more important,” Ned said carefully. “I have to balance things that are equally important. Do you remember that I’m an earl?”

George stopped, the bridge of his nose creasing and his eyes narrowing slightly. “An earl?” He grew silent and stared off into the distance.

Ned stood beside him and waited a moment before continuing. “Yes, I’m an earl, and I have duties in London. But I’m hoping I can spend a little more time here, like I do in the fall and the winter. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes!” George snapped out of his contemplation—or whatever he was doing—and jerked his attention to Ned, then continued walking. “You’re staying tonight, aren’t you?”

Ned kept himself from visibly wincing, hating that he was going to disappoint someone tonight. “I should return to London, actually.”

George kicked at a rock. “Ow!” He bent over and picked it up then threw it toward the house. When he looked over at Ned, his blue-gray eyes were ice and fury.

Ned sought to smooth things over. “I’ll stay.”

“Really?” The anger faded from George’s gaze to be replaced by hope. “And we can have dinner together?”

“Of course.”

As they neared the house, a footman stationed at the back terrace rang a large bell to let everyone know that George had been found.

Dr. Paget came from the left, running. “You found him,” he said, breathless. He looked from Ned to George back to Ned again.

Ned stopped to answer his question. “Yes, he was playing a game—hiding. It will be my turn later. In the house, where it isn’t so cold.”

“Let’s go upstairs to warm up, shall we?” Dr. Paget asked, putting his hand near George’s back but not actually touching him.

George nodded. “And I’m hungry. Ned, may I have soup?”

“Of course. I’ll have it sent up immediately.”

Looking back over his shoulder as he started toward the stairs with Dr. Paget, George asked, “Are you coming too?”

“Yes, I’ll be right up.” As soon as he wrote a letter to his wife informing her he wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. He hoped she wouldn’t be terribly disappointed.

But he was.

After arranging for food to be sent up to Ned’s room and drafting his letter, he went upstairs, where George was just finishing his soup.

Dr. Paget sat at the table as well, and when Ned arrived, George regaled them both with the tale of how he’d gone on his adventure. He finished with a massive yawn and said he wanted to lie down.

“I’m not surprised, given that you were out a good portion of the night.”

George trudged into his bedchamber and fell onto the bed. Ned followed and tucked him under the coverlet. “Sleep well.”

George’s soft snores were already filling the chamber.

Ned went back to the sitting room, closing the door behind him. He looked at Dr. Paget, who’d risen from his chair. “Did you learn how he was able to leave the house undetected?”

Dr. Paget shook his head. “I tried, but he wouldn’t ever answer the question. I do know that the footman fell asleep.” A footman was always stationed outside George’s apartments.

“That’s happened before. Typically, they hear him, however.” But not always. George had gotten out a few times over the years, once going almost as far as the village.

“I’ll call a meeting with the retainers this afternoon.”

“I’d be happy to attend, if you like,” Paget offered. “Will you return to London afterward?”

“I’d planned to, but George begged me to stay.” Ned considered whether he should mention George’s temper. He didn’t wish to cast him in a bad light, but it was important for Dr. Paget to know everything. “He grew quite angry when I told him I was leaving. He threw a fist-sized rock.”

Dr. Paget frowned. “That is unfortunate.”

“Have you been talking to him about families, about my taking a wife?”

“Nothing specific, but we’ve talked about families, yes. He asked if I expected him to marry.” Dr. Paget chuckled. “He made a face and said he’d rather not.”

Ned smiled but also felt sad that his brother would be robbed of having a wife and children. “My wife is going to be disappointed that I’m not coming home tonight.”

Dr. Paget looked pained. “I’m sorry, my lord. Have you told her about George?”

“I haven’t—we were married only yesterday.”

“What will you do if she refuses to live here with him?”

“I don’t see her doing that,” he said coolly. The doctor’s questions were making him defensive.

Paget was quiet a moment before asking, “And if George rejects her? If he becomes angry or violent? I believe you’re going to have to ask yourself whom you would choose, should it ever come to that.”

Damnation.

Ned realized he was quoting his wife. How could he choose between them? “I don’t have to choose. If necessary, George can stay here, and my wife and I will remain in London.” She’d said she liked London.

But even he knew that would grow old. Furthermore, he wanted to bring Aquilla here, to the place he considered home. That meant he’d have to move George, as Aunt Susannah had suggested. Could he do that?

“I hope your wife will come to understand,” Paget said softly.

“I know she will,” Ned said, sounding far more confident than he felt. “Please continue to work with George on the idea of my having a wife.”

“I will, my lord. I appreciate your patience.”

Ned only hoped it would last.

Chapter Twelve

Aquilla could scarcely believe the number of items people had donated today. She’d hosted a meeting at her new home to collect donations for Bethlehem Hospital.

Clothing, shoes, blankets, and reading materials covered the tables lined up against the wall in the drawing room. A few of the other attendees, including Ivy, Lucy, Nora, and Lady Satterfield, had stayed behind and were helping to organize the donations.

Nora joined Aquilla where she was cataloguing the donations. The duchess’s eyes glowed with admiration. “Such a lovely meeting, Aquilla, and such a wonderful cause. I had no idea Sutton was so involved with Bethlehem.”

“It’s not something he advertises.”

“But it’s so inspiring. What was it you called him, the Duke of Deception?” Nora laughed softly. “I guess it really does fit.”

Aquilla smiled. “I wouldn’t call him deceptive.” Secretive? Yes. He’d gone to Sutton Park twice in the ten days they’d been married and hadn’t taken her with him. He’d said it was just to take care of estate business and she’d be bored. But he’d been gone overnight both times—she could think of plenty of reasons why she wouldn’t have been bored. In fact, she’d been bored here without him. Well, maybe not bored, but she’d missed him.

“No, not any more than I would call my husband the ‘forbidden’ duke.” She looked Aquilla in the eye. “Things are going well, then?”

“Yes, I think so.” Aquilla realized that sounded a bit uncertain. “They’re lovely, thank you. But then it’s only been just over a week.” That didn’t sound particularly positive either. It was the voice of her mother, quieter now, but still there in the back of her mind, reminding her to be cautious.

“Very true,” Nora said. “You’ll settle into a routine. Do you plan to take a wedding trip?”

They hadn’t discussed it. Aquilla would’ve been happy just to visit his country home. She’d also thought it might be nice if they went to Tintern Abbey in Wales, since they were both so fond of Wordsworth. “I don’t know. Did you take one?”

“Yes, Kendal took me to Brighton and then up to the Lake Country.”

Aquilla laughed. “Those aren’t adjacent.”

“Not at all. We had such a wonderful time in Brighton that we decided to take a second trip up north. We make a habit of visiting a new place every summer. The children love it.”

The duke and duchess had two small children, a boy and a girl. “What a splendid tradition.” Aquilla tried to imagine a family of her own and for the first time could almost glimpse it.

Lady Satterfield joined them and congratulated Aquilla on a successful meeting. “Have you planned a day for us to visit the hospital again?”

“Yes, I’m eager to go,” Nora said.

Aquilla was too. She hadn’t returned since marrying Ned, and she had a yellow gown to deliver. She’d repaired the gown she’d worn that day and couldn’t wait to give it to Mary. “I haven’t yet, but I’ll talk with Sutton about it today.”

“Excellent.” Lady Satterfield looked at Nora. “Are you ready, dear?”

Nora nodded. “Yes.” She leaned over and bussed Aquilla’s cheek. “We’ll see you soon.”

Lady Satterfield kissed her too and said, “I’m so proud of you.”

Aquilla could hear the pride in her voice, and thought how she’d never felt more comfortable and more secure than when she’d gone to live with Lady Satterfield.

Lady Satterfield pulled back and smiled at her. “I love you too.”

Aquilla didn’t know what to say. No one had ever told her that. She swallowed past the sudden boulder in her throat. “Thank you.”

Lady Satterfield gave a knowing, compassionate nod as if she understood that Aquilla maybe didn’t know how to say that back just yet. Aquilla embraced her quickly, and the women took their leave.

Blinking back tears, Aquilla realized she did love Lady Satterfield. It was odd to recognize an emotion you didn’t have much experience feeling.

The other attendees left shortly thereafter, except for Lucy and Ivy, who Aquilla suspected had lingered on purpose. As soon as they were alone, they rushed over to Aquilla.

“Finally!” Lucy said, grinning. “Now we can talk about you and Sutton. How is it going?”

Aquilla laughed. She’d half expected them to interrogate her. “Quite well, thank you.”

“My advice helped?” Lucy asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Aquilla said, still laughing. “But that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

Lucy laughed with her, and Ivy rolled her eyes. “I’m going to pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lucy directed an interested stare at Ivy. “Do you?”

Ivy pressed her lips together and turned to Aquilla, which piqued Aquilla’s interest. She wondered if Ivy did know what they were talking about, and if so, why? She was a companion with no plans of marriage and absolutely no prospects. It was yet another curiosity about their friend.

“You’re happy?” Ivy asked, completely ignoring Lucy’s query.

“Oh yes,” Aquilla said. “Except—never mind.” She’d been about to tell them about his going to Sutton Park and leaving her here, but didn’t want them to think there was a problem. It wasn’t a problem. Yet.

“Except what?” Lucy prompted. “You can tell us.” She darted a glance at Ivy before she could say anything. “If you want to. We’re here to support you.”

They were, and Aquilla wished she’d told them the truth about herself long ago. So why not share with them now? “Except, he’s gone to Sutton Park twice and hasn’t taken me. He even left before sunrise the morning after we were married.”

“Did he say why?” Lucy asked.

“Only that he had estate matters to take care of.”

“I think she perhaps meant why he didn’t take you,” Ivy clarified.

“He said I would be bored. But I haven’t asked him directly.” Aquilla suddenly felt foolish.

Lucy looked at her sympathetically. “I’m relatively new at this too, but I’ve learned that asking direct questions tends to provoke direct answers. Men don’t seem to be very good at offering information. At least not my husband.” She glanced toward the doorway. “Oh, I wish Nora hadn’t left already. She’s bound to have a wealth of helpful advice.”

“You’ve been helpful,” Aquilla said. She turned to Ivy to include her. “Both of you.”

Ivy waved her hand. “I’m of no use to you with marital advice outside of stay away from marriage entirely, but you ignored that, so…” She grinned to show that she was joking.

Aquilla smiled in return. “Lucy and I are both proof that marriage can happen to anyone. I’d be careful if I were you.”

Ivy shuddered. “Never, ever, never ever.”

The two friends soon took their leave, and Aquilla decided to go downstairs and see if Ned had returned from his meeting. Skern, the butler, informed her that Ned was in his office.

She made her way through the sitting room at the back of the house to his office, where the door was ajar. Placing her palm on the wood, she pushed it open and saw him seated behind his desk, which faced the doorway. He’d doffed his coat, allowing her to feast on him in his shirtsleeves.

“You’re back,” she said, leaning against the jamb and enjoying the view.

His head came up from whatever he was reading atop the desk. “I am.” His gaze raked her from head to toe, eliciting a familiar burn deep in her belly. Despite his trips to Sutton Park, they’d made good and frequent use of the marriage bed.

He stood from his chair and rounded the desk to perch on the edge. “I was just reading a letter from my aunt. Her friend in Bath is starting to recover, but she thinks she should stay another few days at least.”

Aquilla was glad to hear from Aunt Susannah. She’d left for Bath a few days after the wedding when she’d received news that a close friend was ill. “I look forward to her return.”

“As do I, although it’s been nice to have the house to ourselves.” His eyes narrowed seductively as he reached out and took her hand, then pulled her into his chest. “In fact, I was thinking that we should explore other areas of the house.”

She pressed her hand against his cravat and inhaled his spicy male fragrance that never failed to tie her in delicious knots. “What did you have in mind?”

His eyes had darkened to that shade of pewter she now associated with desire. He leaned close as if he meant to kiss her, but didn’t. The anticipation and subsequent disappointment made her heart pound and her body hum with need.

His lips curved into a lazy, seductive smile. “One moment.” He let go of her and went to the door.

Aquilla was too aroused simply to wait for him, so she followed him as he closed the door and locked it. When he turned around, his eyes glinted with surprise and pleasure.

Wordlessly, he clasped her by the waist and spun her about until her back was against the door. She gasped as his body pressed into hers.

He nuzzled her neck. “Have I told you how stupid I think every other gentleman in London is?” His voice was low and dangerously seductive.

“Er, no?” She had no idea what he was talking about.

He kissed the column of her throat. Once. Twice. And then he licked her. “How any of them could believe that you aren’t interesting or intelligent is beyond me.”

She was having a difficult time following the conversation. “I was rather good at fooling them.”

“Yes.” He gently suckled at her collarbone, teasing her flesh and setting her body aflame. “And you seem quite proud of it.”

Shivers cascaded down her spine as heat pulsed to her core. “I have to admit I found it diverting at times. The Season can be so very dull. Unlike this. Which…is not.”

He chuckled against her chest as he moved lower. “I must agree. Thankfully for us both, we don’t have to suffer such tedium any longer.”

He cupped the underside of her breast and pushed it up, kissing the top of it at the edge of her bodice. “Clothes are such a nuisance sometimes,” he murmured. He loosened the tie that cinched the top of her gown and dipped his hand into her clothing. Finding her nipple, he stroked and squeezed until she cried out his name.

Smiling, he swooped up to kiss her, opening his mouth over hers to greedily devour all she had to offer. Which was everything. He’d awakened a passion she hadn’t known she possessed or even existed.

She clutched at him, one hand on his back and the other twisted into the hair at his nape. They kissed with wild fervor, her lips dragging against his and their tongues clashing.

He rotated his hips against hers, stoking her desire. She moaned into his mouth, and he tore away from her, leaving her breathless.

But he didn’t leave her—not really. He lavished kisses against her jaw and throat all while he tugged up her skirts. He found his way beneath the layers of clothing and stroked his fingertips along her bare thigh.

She trembled with anticipation. “What do you plan to do?”

“Any number of things.” He spoke between kisses.

“The settee doesn’t look large enough to accommodate us.”

“Not lying down.”

She tried to imagine how that would work and recalled what they’d tried a few nights ago. She’d mounted him… That could work quite well if he sat on the settee. “You are turning me into an utter wanton.”

“Oh, good.” He came up and claimed her mouth once more, spearing his tongue into her with a savage abandon that curled her toes.

His hand reached the apex of her thighs, and she widened her stance to give him greater access. He lightly touched her there, teasing her.

She broke the kiss and nipped at his jaw. “More.”

His fingers answered her demand, filling her. Pleasure ripped through her, sending her careening into mindlessness. She clung to him as she cast her head back against the wood.

“So there’s the desk,” he said, breaking through the decadent haze that had stolen her wits.

“The desk?” She stopped kissing him as she tried to make sense of that statement.

He nibbled at her ear, his teeth drawing on the lobe. “We could use the desk.”

“That sounds uncomfortable.” But honestly, right now she wasn’t sure she cared. He was driving her to the brink of madness.

“We wouldn’t lie on it,” he explained, his fingers thrusting into her at various speeds—slow, then faster, then slow again—and she wished he’d just stop taunting her. “Remember when I told you about coming into you from behind?”

They’d talked about it just last night and had planned to try it…next time. This, she realized, was next time.

His fingers slowed to a maddeningly lackadaisical rhythm. “I plan…” He thumbed her clitoris, and she saw stars.

“Ned.”

“I plan,” he repeated, his thumb punctuating his words, “to bend you over that desk,” he pressed on her again, and her legs threatened to give out, “lift your skirts,” he stroked her relentlessly, “and make you forget your name.”

She wasn’t sure she remembered it now. Her body was heavy with desire, every part of her quivering with desperate need.

“Can you please do it soon?”

“Your every wish is my deepest desire.”

She vaguely recollected their conversation about desires and was thrilled to hear that she was now his. Because, really, he was hers. A shaft of apprehension sliced through her—it was a bit frightening to want someone this much—taking the edge off her hunger. But only for a moment. He kissed her and withdrew his hand, letting her skirts fall.

She whimpered into his mouth, and he steered her away from the door. It was only a few steps to the desk, where he spun her around. He pressed himself against her back. He was warm and solid, and his hands came up to cup her breasts. He fondled her through her clothing, but it wasn’t enough to appease the ache she felt absolutely everywhere.

She pushed back against him, seeking as much contact as possible. He reached down and pushed the items on his desk to the side. Then he eased her forward. “Hold on to the other side.” He put his hand over hers and guided her to clutch the edge of his desk.

Then he kissed the back of her neck and returned to stroking her breast with one hand while the other lifted her skirts from the back.

It took a bit of effort given the volume of fabric from all the pleats, but at last she felt cool air on her backside. And then she felt warmth as his hand caressed her bare flesh. She sucked in a breath, more aroused than she thought she’d ever been. He’d teased her to the edge and left her hanging there.

“Ned, please.”

“Open your legs, love,” he whispered near her ear. He dragged his tongue along the outer shell, and she buckled, falling forward over the desk. He caught her, bracing his hand on her rib cage before sliding to the side and then leaving her entirely.

She eased her thighs apart and anxiously awaited his touch.

The sound of his clothing coming undone coupled with the feel of his hands doing their work only added to her arousal. Finally, he stroked between her legs, and she moaned.

“What is taking you so long?” she asked.

He chuckled deep in his throat. “There’s my mouthy wife. You’ve been too quiet.”

“Oh, I’m mouthy, am I?” She reached behind herself and found his erection, hot and hard and grazing her backside. “I seem to recall you liking my mouth.” She was referring to when she’d put her mouth on his cock last night.

“Careful, Aquilla, or I’m going to spill myself before I’ve even begun.” He bent over her and nipped at her neck as he speared his finger into her. The sensation was new and different, but devastatingly wonderful.

She arched back, urging him to fill her more. “I want more than that,” she rasped.

“I know you do. And I’ll give it to you.” He pumped into her a few more times, sending her careening toward ecstasy. Then his finger was gone, replaced with his shaft.

She was suddenly, blissfully, satisfyingly full. And she tumbled over the edge.

While her orgasm tossed through her, he reached for her breast and gripped her waist as he drove into her. Where he’d teased her and taunted her before, now he plunged into her with exacting and ruthless precision, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

It was base and wild, and good heavens, she loved it. Yes, she’d become worse than a wanton. Was there anything worse than a wanton?

Her brain railed at her for trying to think at a time like this, when sensation battered her from every quarter and one orgasm was quickly pursued by another. She closed her eyes and met his thrusts, reveling in rapture. The desk creaked beneath her, trying to move with the force of him driving into her.

He cried out, his hand gripping her hip as he plunged into her one final time. Their breathless pants filled the room as they slowed. The frenzy of their coupling gave way to gratified fulfillment. She laid her head down on the desk and smiled to herself.

Ned eventually straightened, and she immediately missed his warmth. She turned and sat on the edge of the desk, her body still a bit shaky.

His eyes had turned to bright silver, and a smile played at his lips. “Forgive me, I neglected to ask, how was your meeting?”

She smoothed her skirts. “Quite successful. I have many things to take to the hospital, including that dress for Mary. When shall we go?”

He readjusted his waistcoat as it had become a bit twisted with their activity. “Tuesday?”

She reached out and tidied his cravat, which was also askew. “We have the musical party that evening, but that should be fine.”

“Let’s go Monday, then. I’ll make sure I return from Sutton Park early.”

Finished, she withdrew her hands. This was her opportunity to ask him why he wouldn’t take her with him. “Oh? When do you plan to go?”

“Sunday.”

She watched him intently, trying to gauge his reaction. “Perhaps this time you’ll take me with you.”

The spark in his eye diminished, and his smile completely faded. “That won’t be possible, I’m afraid.” He moved back around his desk, putting it between them.

She stood and turned to face him. “Why not?”

“Because it will only be a quick visit, and I will need to spend the entire time dealing with estate matters. As I said before, you’d be bored.”

She had the sense he wasn’t being completely forthright, and it bothered her. “How could I be bored at your home? I imagine there is plenty for me to explore.” She purposely used the word he had earlier.

He came back to her and brushed a wayward curl from her cheek. “I’m making a few changes and improvements before I take you there. We wed so quickly, and Sutton Park wasn’t properly prepared. I vow that I will take you there soon.” He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Very soon.”

His eyes were so clear, so full of promise, she couldn’t help but believe him. Why would he lie? What he said made sense. And, just as she’d told Nora earlier, he wasn’t really the Duke of Deception. That was just a name that she’d given him.

She let her happiness and optimism outweigh her doubt and apprehension. “I shall look very forward to it.”

Chapter Thirteen

On Tuesday evening, Ned helped Aquilla into the coach. He didn’t particularly feel like going out, but Lady Satterfield and Aquilla’s friend, Miss Breckenridge, would be at the musical party. Plus, it was an excellent excuse to watch his wife in a stunning Pompeiian red gown that accentuated her figure to great advantage. He’d given her a pearl-and-coral necklace to wear with it, and right now, eyeing her across the dim interior of the coach, he wanted to see her in that piece of jewelry and absolutely nothing else.

“You’re looking at me with that gaze again.” The lilt of her voice never failed to arouse him—not just physically, but mentally and even emotionally. What he felt for her went beyond attraction or appreciation. He cared a great deal for her. That she’d exceeded every one of his expectations and was patient with his frequent absences humbled him. It also made him suspect that the love he’d never looked for might very well be staring him right in the eye.

He wished he’d sat beside her instead of on the opposite bench. “What gaze is that?”

“The one that says you want to tear my clothes off and make love to me.”

Make love… Had he called it that? He couldn’t recall, which probably meant he hadn’t. Certainly he would’ve remembered. Either way, it was precisely what he wanted to do. “You make me sound so beastly. I don’t actually tear your clothing, do I?”

She cocked her head to the side and regarded him playfully. With her hair piled high and lush curls brushing the back of her neck, she looked incredibly regal, but also undeniably seductive. “Well, there was that chemise last week.”

How could he have forgotten that? He grew hard at the memory. “Hmmm, yes, you’re right. In my defense, it was a rather flimsy garment. Though I do recall you popping a button from my waistcoat.” They’d been eager, and there were just so damn many clothes. All of which he had to painstakingly strip from her body. That only made him harder.

“You’re quite the temptress,” he said, easing off the bench and kneeling on the floor of the coach.

She sat up straighter, losing all semblance of flirtation. “Ned, what are you doing?”

He lifted a shoulder as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them on the seat behind him. He reached beneath the hem of her gown and found her ankle. He half smiled as she flinched. Running his hand up her calf, the silk of her stockings caressing his hand, he watched her face.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re being very naughty.”

“Yes.” He passed her knee and the garter, then met the bare flesh of her inner thigh.

“We are on our way to a concert.” For some reason, she whispered. Rather loudly, but the effort to be quiet was still notable.

“I don’t think the coachman will hear us.” He recalled some of the noises she was capable of making and revised his opinion. “On second thought, perhaps keeping your voice down is not a terrible notion.”

“Ned!”

He grinned at her as his fingers found her wet sheath. And oh yes, she was quite wet. “You’re always so ready,” he said softly, stroking her clitoris and enjoying the play of anticipation and pleasure on her face.

“Ned, can’t this wait until later?”

He quoted William Blake: “‘Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.’”

“Are you daring me, my lord?” She arched a brow at him. “My desire is not weak.”

He slid his finger into her and thrust once, twice as he stared into her eyes. “Prove it.”

She returned his stare as she slowly lifted her skirts and bared herself to him. She opened her legs wider and exposed exactly what he wanted. “Put your mouth on me,” she said—not loudly, but it wasn’t a whisper either.

His cock was so hard, he ached. “Please, don’t ever stop talking.”

He did as she commanded and moved between her legs so he could lick her folds. He’d done this to her once before, to her extreme satisfaction. He looked forward to watching her smile and float through the concert, knowing he’d pleasured her moments before they’d gone inside.

She tugged at his head as he used his lips and tongue on her. She moaned and gasped, moving her hips as she came. He felt her muscles clench and then he pumped his fingers into her while he suckled her clitoris. She bucked up, crying out his name, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

When she stilled, he backed away and brought her skirts down.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice dark and achingly wicked.

He retook his seat on the opposite bench. “We’re almost there.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Almost, yes. I can’t let you go to the party with that.” She inclined her head toward his stiff cock, clearly discernible through his pantaloons.

“It will…calm down before we get there.”

She moved off the bench and knelt before him, her skirt pooling around her. She drew her gloves off, which was no mean feat. “Indeed it will.”

“Aquilla, we’ve already wrinkled your gown enough.”

Her hand was already on his fall, and before he knew it, she’d freed his flesh and was now stroking along the length with her expert hands. “The netting overlay will mask the wrinkles.”

“Then think of the mess. Pleasuring me is not as, er, tidy as pleasuring you.”

She looked up at him, her hand never ceasing in its movements. “Do you trust me?”

Trust. Why did she have to say that? It reminded him of the lie he was perpetrating with her, of how guilty he felt every time he went to Sutton Park. It wasn’t fair, because he did trust her. He just couldn’t share what he wanted to share. Not yet.

“I do.” His voice came out stark and desperate.

And then her mouth was covering him, her lips and tongue mastering what she’d only just learned a few days ago. Her hand worked the base as she sucked him deep. It took barely any time at all for him to completely lose himself in the sensations she wrought.

He longed to bury his hands in her hair, but he couldn’t. He didn’t touch her at all for fear of ruining something.

She took him particularly deep so that he grazed the back of her throat. Then she swallowed, her throat muscles stroking him so that he was teetering on the edge. His balls tightened with ecstasy.

“Aquilla, I’m going to come.” He tried to pull free, but she held him fast, her mouth and hand working. Then he knew what she meant to do.

He couldn’t hold back another moment. He surged off the bench, pulsing along her tongue and surrendering to his body. She held him tight and saw him through to the finish.

He collapsed back against the bench, utterly boneless with exhaustion. And he’d barely done anything.

The coach came to a stop, and she jerked back to her bench. “Just in time,” she murmured. “Toss me my gloves, please?”

He had to blink and shake his head to fully comprehend. He groped about in the lantern light and found her gloves. No, those were his.

“Mine are on the other side,” she offered helpfully.

He felt around the bench and located them. Leaning over, he laid them on her lap. “Thank you. I—” He didn’t know what else to say.

She gave him a look that was both prim and thoroughly seductive. How did she do that?

The door to the coach opened as she finished pulling on her second glove. Belatedly, Ned realized he needed to don his as well as button his fall. After quickly doing so, he leapt down and offered her his hand.

He escorted her to the town house, thinking this was the best damned concert he’d ever seen—and he couldn’t even remember who was playing.

They went inside and found seats. It was indeed an excellent program, but then he suspected he would have enjoyed cookware being used as instruments.

After the music was finished, the guests were invited to sample refreshments and socialize. Aquilla found Lady Satterfield, and soon her friend Miss Breckenridge joined them and they were discussing their successful trip to Bethlehem yesterday. Mary had been delighted to receive Aquilla’s dress—but not nearly as happy as Aquilla had been to give it to her.

Ned took the opportunity to go onto the terrace. He’d been a bit overheated ever since the carriage. He smiled to himself, thinking that was a memory he’d cherish for a long time—forever.

“You look rather smug, but then I suppose you’ve earned that.” Lindsell weaved onto the terrace, his eyes glassy.

Ned took stock of the younger man. “And you look rather drunk.”

Lindsell’s lip curled. “You dare insult me.”

“I believe you started it, but you’re right, I’m better than that. If you’ll excuse me.” He made to move past the baron, but Lindsell jabbed his elbow into Ned’s side.

Lindsell pivoted, his brow pinched with anger. “You insulted me first. By stealing my bride.”

“I didn’t steal anyone. She chose me.” He wanted to add that there’d never really been a contest but decided not to kick the man while he was down. Perhaps he’d actually cared for Aquilla. But no, Ned knew he hadn’t. Not with the way he’d spoken of her. “I believe she preferred a husband who would value her.”

“You’re a rapscallion!” Lindsell lunged for him, but Ned merely stepped aside and watched the man sprawl face-first onto the terrace.

Ned glanced toward the door but didn’t see anyone watching. Exhaling, Ned squatted down next to the man. “You really are soused, Lindsell. You can’t mean to start a fight. Let me help you up.” He touched the baron’s arm.

Lindsell allowed him to pull him partway up before he snatched his arm from Ned’s grip and scowled at him. “I ought to call you out. I’d already had the banns read at my parish church. What you did was despicable.”

Ned shook his head at the other man but felt no pity. “You’re likely going to forget all about this tomorrow, which is unfortunate since you will probably harass me again. I pray you do not. My patience has its limits.”

Lindsell straightened his coat. “Are you threatening me?”

“I believe you’re the one saying you should call me out. Really, Lindsell, you must go home. Shall I ask for a footman to help you, lest you fall again?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Immensely. Ned turned toward the house. “I’ll go and get one.”

Lindsell tried his elbow trick again, but Ned beat him to it, sending the man stumbling over the threshold into the house.

Before Ned could turn back to the terrace to take a few much-needed deep breaths, Forth-Hodges made eye contact from just inside. His eyes narrowed, and Ned suspected he was about to hear from another disgruntled gentleman.

Forth-Hodges, who was several inches shorter than Ned, stalked outside, his features carved in irritation. “I see I’m not the only person who’d like to thrash you.”

Ned couldn’t know how much the man had seen, but acknowledged it had been enough. More than a bit irritated himself after his altercation with Lindsell, he didn’t bother tempering his tone. “I’m sorry to hear that you wish me violence.” He also didn’t bother asking why. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Now wait just a minute,” Forth-Hodges said, scowling up at him. “I think you owe me an explanation. Actually, you owe Emmaline an explanation. She was expecting a proposal from you, and you went and married someone else.”

“I never promised her anything, nor did I even mention the possibility of marriage. If she had an expectation, that is entirely of her own imagination.”

Forth-Hodges’s eyes widened. “Are you accusing my daughter of spinning tales?” He spat in his vehemence.

Ned wasn’t handling this very well. He tried to dismiss his ire by shaking out his shoulders. “I am not. I am merely trying to offer the explanation you demanded.”

“You’re a scoundrel, Sutton. And a liar.” Forth-Hodges settled a blistering glower on Ned. “Yes, the Duke of Deception fits you quite well.”

“What did you just call me?” Ned’s question snapped out hard and fast, halting Forth-Hodges as he pivoted toward the house.

“The Duke of Deception. A cunning nickname that’s rather accurate, don’t you agree? You’re nothing but a liar and, from the sound of it, a thief. Good riddance.” His lip curled as he turned and walked back into the house.

Ned stared at the empty space where Forth-Hodges had insulted him. Repeatedly. But the only thing that mattered was that the man had called him the Duke of Deception. That was a name between Aquilla and her friends. Had one of them shared that nickname?

Whatever had happened, he was being talked about. He didn’t like to be the subject of gossip. That meant people paid attention to you—more than usual. And there was nothing he hated more than attention. Not when he had so much to hide.

Stop it, he told himself. Your secret is absolutely safe. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. Yes, it was safe. But the guilt was always there, threatening his equilibrium.

He strode into the house in search of Aquilla. As soon as he found her, he announced that it was time to go home.

Once they were in the coach, she studied him with concern, her brow furrowed. “What’s the matter? You seem upset.”

“Lindsell and Forth-Hodges attacked me.”

She jerked, her eyes widening before blinking rapidly. “Physically?”

“Lindsell tried. He’d overindulged.” Ned drummed his fingers on the bench beside his leg. “He accused me of stealing you.”

She took a steadying breath, her face still a mask of worry. “And Forth-Hodges?”

“He accused me of being a liar.” He spoke in a clipped tone, his ire returning. “Right before he called me the Duke of Deception. Would you care to guess how he came up with that?”

She lifted her hand to her mouth briefly, shock widening her eyes before regret took over. “I can’t imagine. That’s always been between me and Lucy and Ivy. And Nora.”

“Apparently, it’s not.” He gazed toward the window, unable to look at the anguish in her eyes.

“They wouldn’t have said anything. And anyway, it’s nonsense.”

He snapped his head back in her direction. “I told you when we first met that I didn’t like to be the center of gossip.”

“And I said that no one does.” She blanched. “I just recalled that Nora mentioned the name at the meeting the other day. Someone must have overheard that.” She edged forward on her bench. “Truly, Ned, you can’t believe we meant for this to happen.”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? It’s happening.”

She frowned at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “People talked about you anyway. Your reputation was well-known.”

“Yes, but I never deceived anyone.” Except he had. And continued to. And always would.

The coach thankfully came to a stop. Not waiting for the coachman, he threw open the door and leapt down. He assisted Aquilla out and escorted her into the house.

She started up the stairs, but he didn’t follow her. Partway up, she turned and looked down at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Not right now.” He turned toward the sitting room so he could get to his office. And probably the whiskey decanter. “And don’t wait up.”

He didn’t want any company—not when he didn’t deserve it.

Chapter Fourteen

He’d said not to wait up, but Aquilla had done so anyway. She’d gone to bed in her chamber—something she’d done only on the nights he’d gone to Sutton Park. That he was here in the house and had left her alone all night burned.

She’d slept intermittently, but now that the sun was up, she could give up the pretense. Mayhap she’d even charge into his room.

She threw back the covers, leapt out of bed and stopped short before rushing headlong into his room—and potential disaster.

He’d been angry last night, and she’d never seen him like that. He’d clearly been provoked by Lindsell and Forth-Hodges, and she couldn’t blame him for being upset. But then he’d taken it out on her. She’d seen something in his eyes, a pain that made her heart ache. A pain that made her realize she’d do anything to take it away. Because she loved him.

She’d tried not to, really she had. Guarding her heart was the only thing she had left. The only piece of independence she could maintain. She’d kept it isolated for so long that it had become a habit, no, a survival instinct. But with care and humor and tenderness, he’d smashed her defenses to hell.

Now she was angry. But also overjoyed. Her scowl turned to gleeful laughter, and she clapped her hand over her mouth feeling positively absurd.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched into his bedchamber and stared at the empty bed. It hadn’t even been slept in.

A chill crept down her spine, and she hugged her shoulders as she retraced her steps and found her robe at the end of the bed. Donning it and a pair of slippers, she made her way downstairs. She passed a footman in the hall on her way to Ned’s office. Which was also empty.

She went back to the hall and approached the footman. “Do you know where his lordship is?”

“Yes, my lady. He left for Sutton Park late last night.”

Of course he had. The part of her that was angry took over. She was tempted to just go there herself. But a small voice in the recesses of her mind told her to be cautious, that there was perhaps a reason he was keeping her from Sutton Park.

Trudging back upstairs, Aquilla whiled away the time until it was seemly to visit Lady Satterfield. The countess was delighted to see her but could tell immediately that something was wrong.

She entered the drawing room with a smile, which instantly faded as she took Aquilla’s hand and ushered her to the settee. “Tell me, dear, what is the matter?”

Aquilla explained what had happened last night while Lady Satterfield listened patiently. She finished by telling her that he’d gone to Sutton Park.

“Well, that might be best. Sometimes men need to go and cool their heads. You might not believe it, but even Satterfield has had to do that a few times.”

“Except this is the fourth time he’s been since we were married, and he never invites me. He said he’s making improvements before he takes me there, but I don’t care about that. I want to see his home.” No, it was more than that. “I can’t help feeling he’s keeping something from me.”

Lady Satterfield’s brow creased. “I see. That’s understandable.”

“I wonder if he has a mistress.” Aquilla blurted the idea that had taken root earlier that morning and plagued her ever since.

“I don’t know him as well as you of course, but he doesn’t strike me as that sort. Indeed, when I see the two of you together, I would say you’re a couple in love. Am I wrong?”

Aquilla’s heart clenched so tight, she feared it might burst. “No.” Her voice was barely audible. “At least not for me. We, uh, haven’t discussed that.”

Lady Satterfield patted Aquilla’s hand and her gaze turned sympathetic. “Perhaps you should. I hope you’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s such sadness in his background.”

Aquilla snapped to attention. Was she referring to the loss of his parents? “Because his parents died?”

“Yes, and that awful fire.”

Fear iced her spine. She had no idea what the countess was talking about. “What fire?”

Lady Satterfield looked puzzled. “Sutton Park caught fire a long time ago. At least fifteen years, I’d say. Sutton’s brother died.”

Aquilla gasped, and her anger fled. She wanted to leave for Sutton Park immediately—not to confront him, but to tell Ned she loved him and ask him why on earth he wouldn’t tell her about that.

“You didn’t know.” Lady Satterfield looked and sounded surprised. And then worried. “Oh dear, I hope I haven’t said something I shouldn’t.” She waved her hand. “Preposterous. This isn’t a secret. It was common knowledge then.” She shook her head. “Such a tragedy.”

Aquilla stood. “I need to get to Sutton Park.”

Lady Satterfield stood with her. “Of course you should.”

Aquilla winced. “But he took the coach.”

“Then you’ll take mine. Come, let’s get you on your way.”

After a quick stop at Sutton House to pack some things, Aquilla was traveling south to Sutton Park. She was overcome with emotions and questions. She only hoped that Ned was ready to answer them.

Ned hadn’t slept at all. He’d arrived at Sutton Park in the middle of the night—a foolish time to travel, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. He’d only known he had to get here as soon as possible. He was done lying to his wife. He had to lie to the entire world, but with her, he didn’t want to be the goddamned Duke of Deception.

He crept along the corridor to the east wing and George’s apartments. The footman on duty sat outside Ned’s door, reading a book. He stood as Ned approached. “Good morning, my lord.”

“Is George awake yet?”

“I’m not certain, my lord. I haven’t heard anything.”

George typically rang a bell when he was up, but sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he woke and frittered around his rooms for an age. Since Dr. Paget’s arrival, however, someone entered his chamber by ten o’clock, regardless of whether they heard a bell or activity. The doctor believed routine was helpful to George’s state of mind. It was one of the reasons the introduction of Ned’s wife was so critical—it would change the routine and George’s expectations in many ways.

It wasn’t yet ten, but Ned couldn’t wait any longer. He planned to tell George about Aquilla over his favorite breakfast of kippers and eggs.

“Thank you,” Ned said. “I’m having breakfast sent up. It should be here in a moment.” The footman started to rise, but Ned waved him back down before letting himself into the sitting room.

The door to the bedchamber was open, and Ned only made it halfway across the room before George poked his head out.

“Ned! You’re here!” He bounded from the bedchamber and ran straight to Ned, practically knocking him down with the force of his hug.

Ned smiled and patted his brother on the back. “Good morning. Are you hungry?”

“Are you eating breakfast with me?”

“Of course.”

George grinned, and his happiness eased Ned’s anxiety.

“It’s kippers and eggs,” Ned said, going to the table where George ate his meals.

A footman entered, bearing a tray, followed by the footman who’d been outside the door. They set up the breakfast for them, and one asked, “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

Ned shook his head. “Since I’m here, please go downstairs and break your own fast.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

They both bowed and departed, leaving Ned alone with George, who was already seated and eagerly digging into his kippers.

Ned sat and took a few bites as he tried to think of how to broach the subject of his wife. At length he said, “Dr. Paget has been talking to you about families, hasn’t he?”

George, occupied with his breakfast, nodded.

“Do you remember Mother and Father at all?” Ned asked.

George didn’t look up from his plate.

Ned couldn’t tell if that meant he didn’t, but had to assume so. In all the years since he’d returned from Bethlehem, he’d never once spoken of either of them. Just Cook and lemon cakes and their dogs. They’d had two hounds, one for each of them, and Falstaff had been George’s.

Ned tried another tack. “Do you remember Falstaff?”

George looked up, his brow tight with strain as he thought. “Falstaff… That was my dog?” His gaze turned wistful. “I miss that dog.”

“I wondered if you might like to have another one. To keep you company.” Ned wished he’d thought of this before.

George’s eyes lit. “Like Falstaff?”

“Yes.”

“Oh yes, Ned!”

“Excellent, I will see what I can find. It will be nice to add to our family, won’t it?”

George’s gaze dimmed a bit. “You sound like Dr. Paget. He said that our family would inevitably grow larger, that you would take a wife.” He made a face. “I told him you wouldn’t. I don’t need a wife, after all.”

Ned kept his tone measured. “I might like one, however.” He forced himself to just say it. He’d weather the impact, whatever it was. “In fact, I have already married.”

George stared at him, then went back to eating his eggs.

Ned waited, his body tense, his mind alert. But nothing came. George simply finished his breakfast. Then he stood.

“Why would you want a wife?” he said at last. “You have me. You don’t need a wife. She’ll understand when you tell her you’ve changed your mind.” He nodded, looking as if that was all that needed to be said on the matter.

Ned slowly rose, unsure of what to expect. George didn’t seem agitated, but then he also didn’t understand that this wasn’t something Ned could change, even if he wanted to. Which he absolutely didn’t. “I can’t do that, George. We are married. Her name is Aquilla. I think you will like her very much.”

George’s eyes turned frigid, like the pond when it was iced over in winter. “No. I will hate her.” He swiped his hand across the table in a sudden fit of rage, sending the plates crashing to the floor. “And I shall hate you too,” he spat, his gaze no longer cold but now full of fire and hostility.

Ned took a step back. In his limited experience—George had rarely looked this angry—Ned had given him space. At the worst, he’d broken a chair and shredded some of his clothing. No, at the worst, he’d set the house on fire. But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t have the implements, unless he’d somehow secreted them away somewhere.

But that wasn’t possible. They made sure he was supervised. Except he’d gotten out of the house just recently, and they still didn’t know how. All they could think was that the footman had fallen so deeply asleep on his watch that George had been able to slip past him unnoticed.

“You don’t hate me,” Ned said, speaking as evenly as possible though his pulse was thundering.

“I do! You leave me here alone all the time, and now you’ll probably never come back!” He stormed into his bedchamber and slammed the door.

A maid stepped into the sitting room just then, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping for just a moment as she took in the mess. “I’ll be back in a trice to clean this up, my lord.”

Ned didn’t respond. He was too focused on George. Cautiously, he made his way to the door and stopped to listen. He heard mumbling and then silence. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, straining to hear even the slightest sound. It had to be several minutes.

At length, Ned turned from the door and paced, trying to think of what to do next.

“My lord, I heard there was a commotion.” Dr. Paget hurried into the sitting room, his features creased with worry. He looked from the broken dishes on the floor to the closed door to George’s bedchamber. “What happened?”

“I told him I was married.”

Dr. Paget sucked in a breath, and he winced. “It didn’t go well.”

“Clearly. I offered him a dog.” Ned still thought it was a good idea but realized it hadn’t done anything to mitigate George’s reaction to Aquilla.

Dr. Paget considered that for a moment. “That’s actually a brilliant thought. I’d like to discuss that further. First, let me see if I can talk to him.” He moved to the door, and Ned noticed he carried a steaming mug of something.

“Did you make him a posset?” Ned asked.

“Yes. As soon as I heard what happened.”

The maid must have alerted everyone, which was the proper course. Everyone on staff was aware of George’s fits and was ready to help however possible. Ned had gone to great pains to hire retainers who were discreet, thoughtful, and, above all, loyal.

Dr. Paget rapped softly on the door to George’s bedroom. “George?”

Silence.

He tried knocking again, this time a bit harder. “George? It’s Dr. Paget. May I come in?”

This time there was a grunt.

The doctor exchanged a concerned look with Ned and then tried the door handle. “I’m going to come in.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked, but then they had a key if it had been.

Dr. Paget went inside, moving slowly and carefully. Ned trailed him, feeling tense and uncertain.

Seated on his bed, propped against the pillows, George threw Ned a glare. He gave Dr. Paget a much more harmonious greeting, even allowing a half smile. “I see you brought me a posset.”

Dr. Paget walked toward the bed. “Yes. To help you relax. I heard you were upset.”

George jabbed a finger in Ned’s direction. “At him! He’s a traitor. But I suspect you knew that.” His gaze settled into a mutinous glower as he folded his arms across his chest.

“Ned told me you are to get a dog. Do you think you’d prefer a puppy?”

The anger in George’s eyes faded and was momentarily replaced with excitement. But he recovered quickly, summoning a deep frown as he uncrossed his arms and held out his hand. “Just give me the posset so I can go back to sleep and try to forget my traitorous brother.”

Dr. Paget gave the mug to George and then slid Ned a worried look.

George sipped the drink and settled deeper into the bed. “You don’t have to stay and watch me. I’ll be a good boy. In fact, I’d rather you left me alone.” He sounded sad and defeated, and Ned’s heart broke. He’d been through so much, and Ned hated causing him pain.

They didn’t move, and George’s eyes narrowed. “Go! Else I’ll throw this at your head!” He directed the last at Ned.

His heart heavy, Ned turned and left the room. Dr. Paget came after, closing the door behind him.

Dr. Paget moved to the opposite side of the room and gestured for Ned to follow. He spoke in a low tone. “I’m concerned that affected him more than normal. He’s calling you his brother again.”

Ned went to great pains to say George was a cousin, but that he sometimes referred to Ned as his brother. This was accepted by everyone in the household, and only the butler and his aunt knew the truth.

Ned supposed he should’ve told the doctor before now, but revealing their true relationship was always a risk. He probably ought to trust the doctor given his mostly successful treatment thus far. George did have fewer outbursts, and when he did, Dr. Paget was skilled in calming him.

Typically with a posset. Or soup.

Furthermore, George had taken it with the expectation that he would sleep.

Ned stared at the doctor as an uneasy feeling made its way up his spine. “What is in that concoction you give him?”

Dr. Paget wasn’t able to hide his guilt, or maybe he just didn’t want to. “I admit it contains laudanum, my lord.”

Anger sparked through Ned as quickly as it had done George, but he wouldn’t break anything. “I told you when I hired you that I didn’t want you relying on laudanum.”

Color rose in Dr. Paget’s face. “I did try, my lord, and I use it somewhat sparingly.”

“Do you?” Ned had no idea since he wasn’t here most of the time.

“Yes, and it is effective.” Dr. Paget squared his shoulders and looked Ned in the eye. “I can’t stop you from dismissing me, but I think I’ve been helpful. The routine has had a marvelous effect, and I think the addition of a dog will be especially beneficial.”

Ned wasn’t convinced. He didn’t like that the man had lied to him. The hypocrisy of that made him wince. “I can find someone else to give him routine and to help him take care of the dog.”

“You can,” Paget said evenly, “but we have a good relationship.” His features softened. “I’ve come to like George a great deal. And I think he likes me. If I stay, I promise to consult you on everything. I should also like to help facilitate the introduction of Lady Sutton. Keeping me here amidst that change will ensure that George has some stability.” He spoke with hope but also persuasive vigor.

Ned felt suddenly weary. His whole life had been about caring for George, and it seemed he wasn’t very good at it. Just as he’d been lousy at caring for his wife. Why, when they were the two people he loved most in the world?

Realizing he loved Aquilla squeezed the melancholy out as joy bloomed in his heart. He missed her. He never should’ve left her in London. Not so soon after their wedding and not last night.

“I’ll consider keeping you on,” Ned said. “Please excuse me.”

He left the sitting room and made sure a footman was on guard. The maid passed him with cleaning implements and nodded in his direction.

Ned informed the butler that he wished to return to London within the hour. He wished he wasn’t leaving George when he’d been so distraught, but Aunt Susannah was right. It was time for Ned to embrace his own happiness.

Not that accepting that didn’t add to the guilt that already chipped at his soul.

After making the necessary preparations, he went back upstairs to peek in at his brother. He passed the footman and went to the sitting room, where everything had been put back to rights. Dr. Paget was nowhere to be found.

Walking lightly so as not to disturb George, Ned opened the door to the bedchamber and crept into the dim room. He tried to make out George’s form in the bed but couldn’t. As he moved farther inside, the truth of the matter leapt out at him: George wasn’t there.

Ned scanned the bed, but it was completely empty. He knelt and looked under the bed—a favorite hiding space of theirs when they’d been boys. Nothing.

Apprehension turned to fear as he searched the room. George was gone. Ned went into the small dressing chamber. It was also empty.

Taking long strides, he crossed back to the sitting room and made his way outside to where the footman sat. It was the same one—Wilkes—who’d been here when Ned had left earlier.

“Have you been here the entire time? Since I left, I mean.” Ned was already thinking ahead to organizing a search party.

Wilkes stood, concerned, as he comprehended Ned’s state of alarm. “Yes, my lord. What’s happened?”

“George is gone.”

“That’s impossible, my lord. I haven’t moved. I swear it.”

How in the hell was he getting out, then? Ned spun about and stalked back into the bedchamber. Wilkes followed.

Ned began to eye the room in a new light—there had to be another way out. He turned to the footman. “Please fetch some help. We need to find out how he’s escaping.”

With a quick nod, Wilkes dashed off.

Ned started searching the walls, looking for some sort of hidden passage. He knew there was one, but it was in the other wing. In his father’s dressing room. He and George had found it when they were young.

Rushing to the dressing chamber, Ned tried to recall how they’d discovered it and where it was located. They’d been playing with Father’s cravats, tying them together to make a rope they could use to swing from the tree into the pond. Thinking through the memory, he recalled that there had been a draft. When they’d explored the source, they’d found a catch at the top of the wainscoting that opened a small door into a narrow passageway. They’d had no idea where it went because they’d been discovered by their father at precisely that moment. Future attempts to explore the hidden doorway were consistently and effectively thwarted, and they’d eventually given up.

Ned knelt down and tried to feel for a draft. He circuited the room on his knees, which was awkward and slow and really quite arduous. When he reached the wardrobe, he slid his hand between it and the wall. Cold air swept over his hand.

He heard someone enter the dressing chamber.

“My lord,” Dr. Paget said, his voice higher than normal, “I understand George is missing.”

Ned stood and moved to one side of the wardrobe. “Help me pull this away from the wall.”

Paget looked at him as if he were the one suffering from lunacy but quickly moved to the other side. They relocated the piece a few feet from its original position, and Ned stepped around it, then stopped short. Most of the back of the wardrobe was missing.

Though he was upset, Ned couldn’t help but marvel at George’s ingenuity. “He didn’t even have to move it.”

Paget joined him and gasped at the opening in the piece of furniture.

Ned knelt down and felt the top of the wainscoting for the catch. Something clicked, and the wall moved inward, just as it had in his father’s dressing chamber all those years ago. His stomach plummeting into his knees, Ned turned his head and looked up at the doctor. “I don’t think George drank your posset. Perhaps you should go look.”

The doctor practically ran from the dressing chamber and came back nearly as quickly, shaking his head. “I’ve been utterly foolish.”

“We all have.” Ned frowned at the dark tunnel stretching before him. How many secret passageways did this house contain? He’d have to locate and seal them all. But first, he had to find George. “Fetch some lanterns so we can see where this leads.”

Chapter Fifteen

The day had been overcast, but now as they neared the village of Sutton, a gentle rain began to patter on the roof of the coach. Aquilla had the curtains open on the windows and looked outside at the passing countryside, which had become a bit muted with the onset of the rain.

They hit a bump, and the book on her lap, which she’d totally forgotten she’d opened, bounced to the floor. She leaned over to pick it up, wondering why she’d even bothered bringing it when her mind was so occupied, and promptly fell into a heap of skirts when the coach came to a swift and rough stop.

Pulling herself back up to the bench, she brushed her gown off. She heard voices outside and recognized the coachman speaking. The other voice was too distant to make out, but she definitely heard a feminine shriek.

She opened the door, and the footman at the back of the coach jumped down to help her.

He came to the open door, the rain making him blink. “My lady, there’s someone in the lane. We’ll be on our way in just a moment.”

Judging from the sound of the shriek Aquilla had to assume it was a woman. “Is she alone?”

“It appears so, my lady.”

Aquilla leaned out and craned her neck. She caught sight of the woman, who wore a wide-brimmed hat with a veil covering her face, talking to the coachman, who was gesturing for her to move.

“What on earth can she be doing out here in this weather? We must offer her a ride.”

The footman frowned. “I’m not at all certain—”

Aquilla pursed her lips at him. “Perhaps not, but I am. Please invite her inside at once.”

A moment later, the footman had pulled down the step and helped the woman into the coach. She wore a dark, woolen gown with a rather bedraggled, and now muddy, hem.

She sat in the rear-facing seat with a generous thump. “Oh my goodness! I’m so glad you came along when you did.” She carried a small bag, which she set on the floor in front of her feet.

Aquilla glanced out at the footman, who was standing next to the open door. “Give us a moment, and I’ll determine our destination.” She pulled the door shut to keep out the rain. “Yes, I’m glad we did too. Where are you going? I’m happy to deliver you to your destination. I’m Lady Sutton.”

The woman, who’d been shaking the water from her skirts, snapped her head up. “You’re the new countess?” Though Aquilla couldn’t see her face, the woman’s tone was one of clear surprise.

They’d heard of her, then? Of course they would have. Did she think Ned had kept her a secret? She couldn’t really say, since he was keeping her completely separate from whatever he was doing at Sutton Park. It was as if he were leading two different lives.

“Yes,” Aquilla said. “Are you from the village?”

“Oh yes, yes.” She fidgeted with her skirts again before leaning forward slightly. “May I offer my condolences?”

A chill shot up Aquilla’s spine. “Why?”

The woman settled back against the squab and folded her hands in her lap. “The earl has a nasty reputation, but then you will have heard about that.”

Aquilla relaxed. “Yes, but he’s really not to blame. He made no promises to any of those young ladies.”

“The devil you say!” The woman’s voice rose to an almost shrill tone. “He’s a filthy debaucher. Of course he makes no promises. He takes what he wants and doesn’t give a damn about any consequences. He tried to woo me once.” She sniffed. “But I’m far too smart for the likes of him.”

Aquilla couldn’t believe it. The man she knew—the man she loved and who made her laugh and who treated her with such tender care and aroused her to such dizzying heights—couldn’t be whom this woman described.

Aquilla forced herself to ask, “This is his reputation in Sutton?”

The woman nodded, her hat tipping precariously on her head so that she tightened the bow beneath her chin, which was completely masked by the veil. “For years. I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it.”

“I have not,” Aquilla murmured. “I admit I’m having difficulty believing it. My husband hasn’t been known to…dally in London.”

“Is that where you’re from?” the woman asked primly. “Sutton has said that he behaves himself in London—I heard that from his valet, Connor, when he was in the village one day. Sutton’s careful to keep his women private—though we all know the truth around here.”

Could that be true? Could he really be that skilled at deception? She nearly laughed at the nickname she’d given him, but nothing about this was humorous.

“I do hope it’s not too late for you to obtain an annulment,” the woman continued. “You were just married, were you not?”

Aquilla felt sick. She was certain it was too late. Given their…activities, she could already be with child. “I’m afraid I’m stuck,” she whispered.

“That’s a pity.” The woman fell silent a moment. Aquilla’s mind was reeling, and her heart ached. She jumped when the woman continued. “You could run away! I highly recommend that.” She leaned forward again and spoke in a low tone, as if imparting a secret. “He’s also a brute. I’ve heard stories that would make you flee screaming in the opposite direction.”

The feeling of queasiness intensified, and Aquilla covered her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d been so wrong about him. Part of her wanted to deny it. It just couldn’t be.

“This is so unlike the man I know,” Aquilla said, desperate to make sense of what this woman was saying.

“Oh, he’s quite the fraudsman. I should know,” she scoffed. “After I refused him, he seduced my sister and got her with child, then abandoned her. My nephew is the spitting image of the earl—right down to his dark blond hair and gray eyes, as well as the way he carries himself. Even at four years old, he exudes a confidence and a grace that could only come from nobility.” She spat the last word as if it were an epithet.

Aquilla couldn’t breathe. Her mother’s oft-repeated warning sounded in her head, and she truly thought she might be sick.

“Please understand that I’m telling you all of this for your own good,” the veiled woman said. “I realize it’s too late since you’re married to the scoundrel, but you can at least protect yourself and perhaps remain in London, away from his…proclivities. I can only pray my nephew doesn’t grow up to be like him, although he’s already demonstrated keen athleticism—just like his father. He also loathes turtle soup.”

That all certainly sounded like the Ned she knew, right down to the turtle soup. But how well did she really know him? She hadn’t even known he’d had a brother, let alone that he’d died.

Now his frequent trips to Sutton Park made sense. Perhaps he did have a mistress there.

“Does he have a mistress?” she asked, fearing the answer.

“Several.”

Aquilla slumped back against the squab as a knock sounded on the door.

“My lady?” the footman said.

She opened the door but didn’t trust herself enough to speak. She hated this feeling—this weakness. She blew out her pent-up breath and decided to be angry instead of wounded. She was not her mother. If Ned thought he could treat women like this, he was grievously mistaken.

“Should we continue to Sutton Park, my lady?” the footman asked.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Aquilla said. She looked over at the woman. “Where can we take you?”

“Actually, I was on my way to London to take care of an important matter. You happened upon me at a most opportune time, else I’d be trudging in the rain.”

Something about this woman bothered Aquilla, but that could be due to the information she’d just imparted. “You were walking there?” Aquilla asked.

“Not all of us are married to earls.” The woman’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “I knew some kind soul would offer me a ride. I don’t suppose you’re going there?”

She’d been about to say that she’d just come from London, but she bit back her response. She didn’t particularly want to see Ned after all. She forced a smile. “I’d be happy to take you.”

Aquilla leaned toward the door and looked at the footman. “Take us back to London, please.” She glanced toward the woman. “Where in London?”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you. Wherever you’re going is fine. I appreciate it so much.”

Aquilla instructed the footman to take them to Satterfield House. She didn’t want to go home. Was it really home after just two weeks of marriage?

The carriage lurched forward and quickly turned around.

“What’s your name?” Aquilla asked.

Instead of an answer, soft snores filled the coach. Aquilla wondered at the woman’s age—she couldn’t discern any part of her—and what business she had in London.

Those questions would have to wait, along with the others simmering inside Aquilla’s mind. She felt like such a fool. At the same time, she was still in disbelief. A tiny voice at the edge of her brain warned that this woman could be lying, but she’d seemed to know a lot about Ned. And what reason would she have to lie? Just to obtain passage to London? That made no sense.

Aquilla laid her head back against the squab and clung to her anger. It was that or dissolve into tears.

By that afternoon, Ned was nearly at his wit’s end. He stood near the tree where he’d found George two weeks ago. He’d searched all over the area over the past several hours, but he kept ending up back here. He tried to think of where his brother might’ve gone, but he’d exhausted every hiding place—both inside and out—that he was aware of. He was afraid there was one, or more, that he knew nothing about. Like the secret passageway.

They’d followed the passage to a closet in the scullery. From there, it was an easy walk out the door to freedom. They’d talked to all of the staff, and one young maid said she’d seen a woman leaving the scullery through the back door.

Though the maid hadn’t been able to describe the woman other than that she’d worn a veil, Ned was certain it was George. The timing matched up, and who else could it have been? How George had obtained women’s clothing was a mystery. Had he been planning an escape like this? Ned didn’t think so—he’d thought George’s anger and reaction had been due to learning of Ned’s marriage. But maybe it went deeper than that. He began to think he should’ve listened to Aunt Susannah. Perhaps George did require more care than he could give.

Whatever George’s motivation, Ned felt as though he’d failed his brother.

Just as he’d failed his wife. He’d left her without a word, and now he was stuck here.

Unless he returned to London. He shook his head. He couldn’t abandon the search. George could be anywhere, and it was becoming increasingly likely that he wasn’t even at Sutton Park anymore.

Suddenly, the bell they’d used for their previous search pealed. Ned took off at a run, his boots pounding over the damp earth and spraying mud.

Catching sight of his butler standing on the terrace, Ned raced to him. The butler held out a letter. “My lord, this just arrived.”

Ned tore open the parchment and scanned the contents.

Sutton,

I finally understand why you spend so much time at Sutton Park. I don’t wish to compete with your many women, so I’ve decided we should live apart. You did agree to let me leave if I wasn’t happy.

It was signed simply, Aquilla.

Ned was still trying to catch his breath, and now he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. With a hammer.

He had to leave.

Dr. Paget ran onto the terrace heaving, his face red. “What is it?” His eyes were hopeful.

Ned shook his head. “I need to return to London.”

Paget’s eyes widened with shock. “Now? You can’t.”

The hell he couldn’t. “I can and I must. You’ll continue the search and keep me abreast of what’s happening. I’ll return as soon as possible.”

“My lord, what if we don’t find him?”

“If we can’t find him today, we’ll have to recruit more people to search tomorrow.” Ned didn’t know what else to do. The weight of responsibility had never felt so heavy.

The doctor stared at him but eventually nodded. “We’ll find him, my lord.”

Ned had begun to doubt that, but his primary wish was that George was safe. Oh, how he prayed that he was safe. If he wasn’t, Ned wasn’t sure how he would forgive himself.

A short time later, Ned was on the road to London. He’d opted to go on horseback so that he could travel more quickly. The rain had picked up again, but he didn’t care. He’d ride through hell itself to get to Aquilla. He didn’t know what the devil had happened to cause her to believe he had other women, but he’d disabuse her of that lie.

And he’d tell her the truth about everything else. Including how much he loved her. How much he needed her in his life.

He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

When the coach pulled up to Satterfield House, Aquilla reached across the coach and gently touched her companion’s knee. “We’ve arrived,” she said.

The woman jerked to attention, straightening in the seat. Her hat and veil pitched to the side, and she pulled it back in place. “Goodness, I slept the entire trip, didn’t I?”

“Yes. We’re in Mayfair, but I’d be happy to take you to your destination.”

The footman opened the door and offered his hand to Aquilla, but she gestured to the other woman. “After you.”

“Why, thank you!” the woman said brightly. She picked up her bag and clambered from the coach rather ungracefully. Perhaps she was still trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. Whereas Aquilla felt as though she were stretched taut, with all her nerve endings frayed with distress.

Aquilla climbed down next and turned to invite the woman inside. However, the woman was already walking away down the street at a rather fast pace. Aquilla called after her, “Wait!” She didn’t even know the woman’s name.

The woman didn’t stop, however.

“Shall I go after her?” the footman asked.

“That isn’t necessary,” Aquilla said, frowning. “What an odd woman.”

She climbed the stairs, and Harley admitted her into the house. “Good afternoon, my lady. Is her ladyship expecting you?”

“No, is she here?”

“Yes, she’s in the sitting room. May I take your hat and gloves?”

She nodded and handed him the items before trudging into the sitting room. The ire she’d clung to for a good portion of the carriage ride had all but dissipated, leaving a hollow ache where her heart was supposed to be.

Lady Satterfield looked up from the newspaper she was reading and stared at Aquilla. “My goodness, you look distraught. And you’re back far too soon. What happened with Sutton? Come and sit.”

The countess patted the space on the settee next to her. Aquilla needed no further urging. She dropped to the cushion and exhaled, hoping to dispel some of the tension in her frame. It didn’t work.

“I never reached Sutton Park. It was raining, and we came across a woman who was on her way to London. She was from the village and told me…things about Sutton.”

“I can tell from your tone that these were not good things.” Lady Satterfield’s lips pursed and then turned to a frown. “Who was this woman?”

“I don’t know,” Aquilla said, feeling foolish that she hadn’t learned the woman’s identity. “She said that Sutton is a philanderer, that he’s fathered a number of children.” Aquilla’s voice broke. “That he’s a brute.”

Lady Satterfield gasped. “I can’t believe it.”

“I couldn’t either.”

“How do you know that what she says is true?”

Again, Aquilla felt a bit foolish, but she’d spent a good portion of the journey trying to think of why this woman would lie and had come up with nothing. “She has no reason to deceive me. Why fabricate such stories with a stranger you’ve just met?”

“Perhaps she was playing on your emotions in order to gain passage to London. Where is this woman now?”

“Gone,” Aquilla said. “I suppose she could’ve made the story up when she learned who I was.”

She looked at Aquilla with sympathy. “What will you do?”

“I stopped at an inn on the way back to Town and dispatched a letter informing Sutton that I will not be returning to his town house. May I stay here?”

The countess reached over and patted her hand. “Of course, dear. Stay as long as you like.”

Aquilla had never been more relieved to have the countess’s support. “Thank you.”

“I think you need some tea,” Lady Satterfield said.

The tea did help, but Aquilla still felt adrift. She’d never felt as though she belonged with her family, but that had all changed with Lady Satterfield and then with Ned. Now, having had that sense of family and connection, she suffered the loss of it quite keenly.

The countess had asked for her old room to be prepared, and Aquilla wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and try to sleep. Maybe she’d feel better after a respite.

She excused herself and rose from the settee, thinking she probably wouldn’t feel better for some time. As she stepped into the hall, the butler opened the front door.

Aquilla turned her head and froze. Standing at the threshold, thoroughly drenched, was her husband.

He charged inside without even looking at Harley and swept his hat from his head, sending droplets of water sprinkling over the entryway. “Aquilla, thank goodness I’ve found you.”

Her heart twisted at the sight of him. “I’ve heard some disturbing rumors that we need to discuss.”

His eyes widened. “We need to discuss many things. I need to tell you the truth.”

She heard the stark plea in his voice and couldn’t help but feel moved. Still, by his own words it seemed he had lied. “Calling you the Duke of Deception was a bit of fun I had with my friends. I had no idea it was accurate, especially not after I came to know you.”

His gaze was intense and steady, causing her to shiver. “I am the Duke of Deception.”

Nothing he said could’ve surprised her more. He hated that name. She remembered the first time she’d called him that—she’d been the one standing there dripping wet. He’d been offended, but curious at the same time. She’d been drawn in by him even then. How she wished he was the man she thought him to be.

She raised her chin and gave him a look that conveyed a disconnection and carelessness she didn’t feel. “I believe there’s nothing more to say.”

He moved toward her. “There’s everything to say. Beginning with I love you.”

She was wrong—that was far more shocking to hear.

“My lord,” Harley said, “I believe her ladyship has said she doesn’t wish to speak with you.”

“Please, Aquilla, just listen to what I have to say, and if you want me to leave when I’m finished, I will. Forever, if that’s what you want.”

Her heart, already trampled and bruised, was cracking in two. She might regret it, but she couldn’t bring herself to ignore his pleas. “All right.”

Lady Satterfield, likely hearing them, had come to the hall and now exchanged a look with Aquilla that seemed to ask if she needed assistance. Aquilla gave a tiny shake of her head as she turned and walked into the dining room, where she and Ned would be alone.

Ned followed her and closed the door behind him. Tossing his hat on the table, he came forward, but she moved to the opposite end. He stopped, perhaps understanding that she wanted distance between them.

He stripped his gloves off and set them on the table beside his hat. “First, I want to apologize for leaving last night. That was rude and inconsiderate of me. I was angry—stupidly so.”

Aquilla nodded. “Yes, you were stupid.”

The corner of his mouth briefly lifted while his eyes remained dark and anxious.

She eyed the water dripping from him to the floor. “Take off your great coat and give it to Harley before you create a puddle.”

Ned shrugged out of it, sending more water to the carpet, then opened the door and gave it to the butler.

When he’d closed the door and turned back to her, his brow was deeply furrowed. “You want to hear of my deception.”

She didn’t really. She wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. She wanted the man she’d married. But he didn’t exist. “Yes, tell me about the women.”

He stared at her in utter confusion. “Your note mentioned women, but I didn’t understand what you mean. I still don’t.”

“The ones you conduct liaisons with and sire bastards on.”

His jaw dropped briefly, and then he took a few steps forward. In response, she moved around the table until they were on opposite sides. “There are no women. Only you. Who told you this nonsense?”

“You claim this is nonsense after admitting you deceived me?”

He gripped the back of the chair in front of him. “It is nonsense. Where did you hear this?”

Apprehension crawled up her spine. “I met a woman. On the road. In the rain.” Aquilla was having a hard time stringing words together, which she would’ve found absurdly amusing if she wasn’t tied in knots.

“What woman? Where?”

“Outside Sutton. I’d gone to see you. To Sutton Park. I was tired of being left in London.”

He looked pained. “I do have a reason—”

“Yes, your women.”

His knuckles whitened. “There are no women!” He groaned and then took a deep breath as he pulled his hands from the chair. “There are no women. Truly. You met a woman on the road, and she told you this absurdity?”

“Yes.”

“She was lying.” His brows formed a V over his perturbed eyes. “Who was she?”

Aquilla had to admit that his outrage was rather convincing. “I don’t know. She was from the village. She said your reputation was well-known there.”

“It is not, because there is no such reputation. What did she look like?”

The foolishness she’d felt intermittently earlier came back twice as strong. “I can’t say. She wore a veil.”

He froze, except for his gaze, which slid to the side and stared into nothing.

“Ned,” she said softly, suddenly concerned. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and muttered something before affixing his gaze on her once more. “That wasn’t a woman. That was my brother.”

Aquilla suddenly felt the need to sit. “Your what? I thought your brother was dead. Although you’ve never even mentioned that to me.” She glowered at him, feeling quite cross. Did this mean there were no women? That his brother had lied to her? While dressed as a woman? Oh yes, she needed to sit down.

She pulled a chair from the table and dropped onto the cushion. “You’ll need to start at the beginning, I think.”

“Yes.” He started around the table, and she eyed him warily. “May I sit with you?”

She turned in the chair as he pulled out the one beside her. He angled it so that he would face her.

He sat down and looked at her hands, as if he wanted to touch her. She clasped them tightly. She wasn’t ready for that. Her mind was awhirl with confusion and frustration.

He lifted his gaze to hers. “I didn’t tell you about my brother because most everyone believes he is dead. When he was sixteen, he went mad and set Sutton Park on fire. My father, against my mother’s wishes, decided it would be best if my brother—Peregrine Bishop—died in that fire. And so “George,” some distant cousin we’d agreed to care for, was taken to Bethlehem Hospital, where he stayed for eight years until my father died.”

Aquilla knew her eyes were wide, and she felt unshed tears burning the back of her throat. But she was utterly speechless. It was no wonder he cared so deeply for the insane.

He looked toward the windows cloaked in their dark gold curtains, but she didn’t think he was really seeing anything. His eyes were glazed. Tormented. “I hated that he was there, but my father wouldn’t allow him to come home, no matter how much my mother or I begged. My mother’s heart was broken—first by Peregrine’s illness and then by my father’s refusal to keep him in our family.”

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely audible to her ears above the pounding of her pulse.

Ned continued, “They tortured him relentlessly at Bethlehem. My father wouldn’t allow me to visit until I was seventeen, and even then, he didn’t want me to. In those three years since I’d seen my brother, he’d changed so much—I didn’t even recognize him. I vowed to move him out of there, but my father refused. It wasn’t until he died that I was able to take George home to Sutton Park. By then the damage was quite pervasive. He remembered next to nothing about his former life. Those first couple of years were extremely difficult, but he gradually came to recognize me.” He smiled sadly. “He still doesn’t remember much else. He’s been George, my cousin, ever since. Peregrine really did die in that fire. I can show you his headstone at the church in Sutton.”

A tear slid from Aquilla’s eye. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

“There’s one other thing.” He turned his head and regarded her with a dark intensity. “Peregrine was my older brother. The heir. He was supposed to be the earl.”

Now she understood why he’d said what he’d said—that he was the Duke of Deception. His entire life was a lie. “You mustn’t feel guilty. This was your father’s doing. And even if Peregrine hadn’t died, he would’ve been found mentally unfit, wouldn’t he? You would still be the earl.”

The anguish in his gaze didn’t dim. “Probably. But what if he’d never gone to Bethlehem? The path of his life was irrevocably altered by what they did to him there. I’ll never know what could have been, because that was stolen from him.”

She couldn’t stand it any longer. She scooted forward in her chair and took his hands—they were so cold—in hers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head, his eyes clouded. “I don’t know. I wanted to trust you, but I was afraid. I’ve kept George a secret since I was fourteen. The only other people who know he’s my brother are my aunt and the butler at Sutton Park. I needed to find a wife I could trust, but when it came time to do just that, to trust…I didn’t know how.”

She brought one of his hands to her lips and softly kissed his cool flesh. “I understand what that feels like. It’s difficult to relinquish the thoughts and ideas we’ve nurtured for so long. And it’s perhaps even harder to open ourselves up to someone else.” Oh, how she understood that. “I shouldn’t have believed the things the woman—George—told me in the coach. But I’ve seen the worst of men with my father and my brother. Like you, I was afraid to trust someone. And afraid that I hadn’t chosen a husband that was better than my father and brother.” Her throat tightened. “But I know that I have. To think of all you’ve done to protect your brother… It’s incredibly considerate.”

He smiled wryly. “You sound like my aunt. I suppose it’s true—to a point. It was incredibly inconsiderate of me not to tell you about George and to leave you in London when I went to see him. I visit Sutton Park so often because he doesn’t do well when I’m away for too long.” He frowned. “His doctor was concerned about how George would take to you. It seems, based on the lies he told you, that George was trying to drive you away.”

Yes, everything the veiled woman had said made sense in that context. Instead of being angry at George, however, Aquilla understood why he’d done it—because he needed his brother. “He depends on you.” She could see they were a loving family—regardless of George’s lunacy—and that made her so happy. But it also made her sad to be on the outside of it. “Do you think he’ll come to accept me?”

“I honestly don’t know.” He withdrew one of his hands from her grip and scrubbed it over his face. “I hope so. He’s…difficult and complicated.” His gaze connected with hers, and she could see just how much he cared for his brother. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “I know you’re angry with me, and you’ve every right to be, but I hope in time you can forgive me.”

Aquilla’s heart swelled with love for this man who was even more wonderful than she’d imagined. She leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands. “There is nothing to forgive. I love you.” She realized this was the first time she’d said those words to anyone, and it left her feeling both awed and…full.

“I love you too.” He bent his head and kissed her. It was a soft and simple joining of lips and of shared emotion.

She’d never felt happier in her life. Or more stupid. She sat back and gasped. “We need to find George. I brought him to London, and he disappeared when we arrived. I’m so sorry, Ned.”

Ned straightened, and his eyes grew huge. “What happened?”

“When we got to Satterfield House, he just walked away from the coach. I have no idea where he was going.” She put her hand to her cheek. “I’ve made a mess of this.”

He stood. “No, you haven’t.” He kissed her forehead. “We’ll find him.”

Aquilla didn’t know how he could be so optimistic. Wait, yes she did. She knew how it felt to feel completely downtrodden and without hope. Optimism was the only thing that had kept her going.

A sharp knock on the door drew them both to turn. “Come in,” Aquilla called.

Lord Satterfield walked in, his wife directly on his heels. Both looked extremely concerned, and Aquilla’s stomach dropped into her feet.

Satterfield stopped near the head of the table. “Sutton, I just came from your house. I didn’t know you would be here, but it’s most fortuitous.”

“Why were you at my house?” Ned asked.

Aquilla heard the apprehension in his tone and took his hand.

Satterfield looked between them before settling on Ned. “I was at a coffeehouse over on King Street, and a man came in claiming to be the Earl of Sutton.”

“Oh my God,” Ned breathed, squeezing Aquilla’s hand.

Satterfield tipped his head to the side and looked contemplative for a moment. “I have to say he looked a bit like you, Sutton, though slighter and with less hair.”

“It is likely my cousin,” he said tightly. “He’s insane and escaped his supervision. I’m looking for him, actually. Do you know where he is?”

“Damn me,” Satterfield said, clearly surprised. “I had no idea you had a cousin like that.”

Aquilla coughed. “Yes, and he’s quite worried about him.”

“Right, of course. He was ranting about being the true earl and demanding his seat in the House of Lords. Someone fetched a constable to have him escorted out, but things turned a bit violent. Er, your cousin broke some crockery and tried to hit the constable.”

Aquilla could feel Ned shaking. She squeezed his hand again and edged a bit closer to him.

“Is he all right?” Ned asked, his voice sounding a trifle thin.

“I don’t know. I believe the constable took him to the magistrates’ court. I decided to go and see you, in case you might know the man. I never imagined he might be your cousin.”

“It’s all right. I’ll go to the magistrate now. Thank you.” Ned let go of Aquilla’s hand and went to pick up his hat and gloves.

Lady Satterfield took a step toward him, her gaze full of sympathetic concern. “Take our coach—you came on horseback, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Aquilla went to join him. “I’m coming with you.”

Ned’s lips lifted in a half smile. She could tell that he was worried—and desperate to leave.

Lady Satterfield turned from them, saying, “I’ll get your things.”

Ned addressed Satterfield. “Would you mind sending someone to my house with a message? I’d like a few of my footmen to meet us at the magistrates’ court with my coach, then I’ll send yours back.”

Satterfield nodded. “Of course.”

“Would you also lend him one of your great coats?” Aquilla asked. “His is soaking wet.”

“I’ll have Harley fetch it.” Satterfield turned and left the dining room.

A few minutes later, Ned escorted Aquilla to the entrance hall, where Lady Satterfield met them with Aquilla’s hat and gloves. “And here, take this.” She handed Aquilla a cloak. “It’s cold and will be dark soon.”

Aquilla kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

Harley appeared with a coat and helped Ned into the garment. The earl and countess asked to be kept informed of their progress, then Aquilla and Ned left. They climbed into his coach, where they sat side by side. She didn’t like his pallor or the despair lurking in his eyes. “Say something, Ned.”

“I just pray he’s all right.”

She took his hand and clasped it between hers. “He will be.”

Chapter Sixteen

When they’d arrived at the magistrates’ court, it had seemed that things were going to end well. The constable who’d greeted them had said they had George upstairs in a room. But when they’d gone to fetch him, he wasn’t there. After Ned had threatened to tear the building apart in search of George, they found someone who’d informed them that he’d been transferred to Bedlam because he was clearly insane.

By that time, Ned’s coach had arrived, so he and Aquilla and three of his footmen were quickly on their way to Bethlehem Hospital.

“Ned.” Aquilla’s voice rescued him from his dark thoughts—thinking of George in the place where he’d been tortured for years. She sat beside him, her thigh pressed against his, her fingers stroking his hand. “He’s going to be all right.”

Ned said nothing, his body so tense, he feared it might crack apart. After what seemed an interminable carriage ride, they arrived at the hospital. He didn’t wait for anyone to open his door or take down the step. He vaulted to the stone courtyard and knew a footman would help Aquilla.

He practically ran to the door, which was locked. He pounded on the wood and yelled for the superintendent. “Malster, open the door! It’s Sutton!”

After a minute, the door opened. Malster stood just inside, his expression one of shock and concern. “My lord, I didn’t realize you were coming this evening.”

Ned pushed his way inside, and Aquilla followed with the footmen behind her.

Malster bowed to Aquilla. “My lady. We are honored to have you both here.”

“This is not a typical visit,” Ned bit out, eager to see his brother. “A man was brought in here earlier. A bit taller than me, thin, pale hair with a widow’s peak.”

“Yes, yes. He came in a short while ago.” His brows dipped. “Do you know this man?”

“He’s my cousin. Please take me to him immediately.”

Malster’s Adam’s apple worked, and he darted a glance toward Aquilla. “My lord, I’m afraid he’s being restrained in one of the cells upstairs. He is quite agitated.”

Ned didn’t wait for the man to finish before he dashed to the staircase. He heard a flurry of footsteps behind him as well as Malster spouting apologies.

When Ned got to the top of the stairs, he turned on Malster, his lip curling. “You know that restraint is to be used sparingly. If I find that he’s been hurt in any way, you will answer to me.”

Malster nodded, fright evident in his eyes.

Ned spun about and turned left toward the men’s gallery. Malster rushed forward to unlock the door and let him inside.

“Just up here, my lord.” Malster led him to a cell halfway down the gallery. They were all on the left side, as the right was a wall with windows that provided light for the gallery and the cells.

Ned could hear his brother yelling and crying, and the ugly past reared up in his mind. How many times had Ned visited George only to hear him rebelling against his situation? Just as many times as George had lain quiet, his leg chained to the wall while he stared into nothing.

Malster gestured to the cell. “He’s there, my lord.”

Fury pulsed through Ned. “Open the door.”

Malster thrust the key into Ned’s hand. “I’ll let you, my lord.”

Ned heard the fear in the man’s voice and snatched the key. He stepped forward but paused. It would be better to try to calm George before he opened the door, lest he attack. Ned had no idea if that was what he would do, but thought if it were him, he just might.

He stepped up to the window in the door, where bars separated him from the cell—from his brother. “George?”

George ceased yelling. His face appeared in the window. His blue-gray eyes were wild and wet, his face red, his mouth open as he gasped for breath. He studied Ned but looked confused.

Ned worried George was already too far gone. “George, it’s me, Ned.”

George screamed in his face, then turned and ran to the other side of the cell. Ned could see that he wore a straitjacket. That was what Malster had meant by restrained. At least he wasn’t chained.

Turning, Ned quietly asked Malster to bring laudanum. Malster nodded profusely and left.

Aquilla came toward him, her hands clasped and her face drawn with anxiety. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to get him to take laudanum so he’ll sleep. Then we can move him back to Sutton Park, where things are familiar.”

“That will help?” she asked.

Ned had tried to think of what Dr. Paget would recommend, which was what had led him to come up with the laudanum. Beyond that, Paget would likely say he needed familiarity and routine. Ned could only imagine what it felt like for George to be back here. Even though it was a different place, since the hospital had moved, he had to remember the hell he’d been through, particularly when they’d put the straitjacket on him. Ned didn’t want to know how they’d accomplished that.

He remembered that Aquilla had asked him a question. “Yes, the laudanum will help. Provided we can get him to take it.” He glanced toward the three footmen, glad to have their assistance should he need it. And he worried that he would.

George’s yelling abruptly stopped. Ned turned back to the window as George came forward once more. “Who are you?” he asked hoarsely.

Ned’s throat threatened to close. He coughed. “It’s Ned. I’ve come to take you home.”

“Home? Is that the place with the fire?” He smiled, but his eyes remained unfocused. “The fire was so warm.”

“Is that why you lit the fire?” Ned asked softly.

George nodded. “I was cold. And it was pretty.”

They’d had this conversation before on many occasions. Ned knew George hadn’t meant to cause harm. “I’m sure it was. The fire is out now, though.”

“That’s sad.” George frowned, and then he looked at Ned. “I know you.”

“Yes.”

George’s eyes gradually lost a bit of their fervor. “Lemon cakes?”

“Yes, George, lemon cakes.” Tears clogged Ned’s throat, but he refused to let them fall just now.

George’s gaze traveled past Ned. “Do I know her? She seems familiar.”

Ned didn’t know what Dr. Paget would say to do, but he didn’t want to hide the truth. “This is my wife, Aquilla.”

“She’s very pretty.” He leaned closer to the window, his forehead resting against the bars. “Do you know how to make lemon cakes?”

Aquilla stepped forward. “I can’t say that I do, but I’d be willing to try.” She smiled at him, her eyes so warm and so encouraging. Ned fell in love with her all over again. “Do you like lemon cakes?”

“They’re our favorite,” George said. “Aren’t they, Ned?”

Ned exhaled loudly, and it turned into a laugh, an expression of relief and joy. “Yes, they are.”

George glanced down at himself. “Ned, why am I in this coat? It’s horrid.”

“Would you like to take it off? I can help you.”

George nodded, his head banging into the bars. “Ouch. Yes, please.”

Ned unlocked the door and cast a look back at Aquilla. “Wait there.” He went into the dim cell and hugged his brother tight. “I missed you. Turn around.”

George pivoted, and Ned untied the coat, then helped him remove it. George tossed it on the floor and stomped on it. Twice. “Good riddance!” Then he turned and started from the cell.

Malster had arrived with the laudanum. He looked from Ned to George and back to Ned again. “My lord?”

“I’m not sure we’ll need that after all.”

“Need what?” George asked. He inclined his head toward the cup in Malster’s hand. “Did he bring me a posset like Dr. Paget?”

“I don’t think it’s a posset.”

“Is it laudanum?”

Sometimes Ned was astounded at what George knew. He might be insane, but he wasn’t stupid. “It is.”

“Dr. Paget puts it in the posset and in my soup sometimes. It makes me sleepy. I don’t take it when I don’t want to sleep. I think I’d like to sleep now, however.” George looked at Malster. “May I have it?”

Malster glanced toward Ned, who nodded his approval. If George wanted to sleep, he wouldn’t argue with him.

The superintendent handed the laudanum to George, who downed the contents and returned the cup. Malster looked at Ned and summoned a feeble smile. “You’re free to take him, my lord. I apologize for the…confusion.”

“You were doing your job, Malster. Thankless and terrible though it may be.” Ned touched his brother’s elbow. “Come, George. How would you like to spend the night in London at my town house?”

“I’d like that fine, Ned, thank you.” George smiled, and his eyes were clear. It was a lovely, lucid moment, one for which Ned was extremely grateful. He was also happy to have this memory be the last they would share at Bethlehem.

Later that evening, after George was ensconced in a guest bedroom snoring loudly, Ned apprised his staff of George’s condition. The trio of footmen who’d accompanied them would take shifts throughout the night to ensure George stayed in his room. They were to notify Ned immediately if he awoke.

By the time Ned trudged into his bedchamber, he was bone tired. But then his wife stood up from a chair in front of the fireplace, and he was instantly awake.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” she asked softly.

He shrugged out of his coat and set it on the chair she’d just vacated. “I suppose we should eat.” His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten much all day.

“I’ll have something brought up.” She turned to go to her chamber, but Ned took a few steps and snagged her elbow, pivoting her about.

“Don’t go. Not yet.”

She moved closer and slid her arms around his waist, then laid her cheek against his chest. “I’m so glad we found him.”

“Thank God, yes.” He kissed the top of her head.

She looked up at him. “What will happen now? Do you think anyone will give his claims any merit?”

“That he’s the Earl of Sutton?” Once they’d left Bethlehem, the day’s events had run through Ned’s mind. At the forefront was what George had done. “I don’t know if anyone will believe him.”

Aquilla laid her head back against his chest and hugged him tightly. “I sent a note to the Satterfields and told them that all is well. Will you go to Sutton Park in the morning?”

Ned tipped her chin up so he could look into her beautiful lapis eyes. “We will go to Sutton Park in the morning.”

“Only if you want me to. I understand you need to focus on George right now. That is what you call him?”

Ned tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “The name Peregrine has no meaning for him.”

“He’s so lucky to have you.”

A knock on the door made them both turn. Ned left her to answer the summons. The butler stood at the threshold. “I’m sorry to bother you, my lord, but there’s a Baron Lindsell to see you.”

Ned looked back at Aquilla, who was now frowning. He nodded toward Skern. “I’ll be right down. Leave him in the hall. He won’t be here long.”

“As you wish, my lord.” Skern left.

He took his coat from the chair and pulled it back on. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Aquilla patted her nape. “I'm coming with you.”

They went downstairs, hand in hand. Lindsell stood in the entry hall, his dark, curly hair unkempt and his eyes bloodshot. He glowered at Ned as he descended.

“I can’t imagine why you’re calling at this hour,” Ned said, pausing on the last step. “Can’t you go annoy someone else?”

Lindsell’s lips curved into a smile that came nowhere near his eyes. His gaze was too busy sweeping over Aquilla with lascivious interest.

Ned let go of her hand and stalked into the hall, coming just a few steps from Lindsell. “Look at my wife again, and I’ll thrash you to within an inch of your life.”

Lindsell straightened while his eyes narrowed. “You’ll do no such thing. Because you’ll be in jail.” He tossed the last word out like a poorly aimed weapon. His breath stank of liquor.

“Where?” Ned suspected he knew what was coming next and could hardly believe the man’s audacity.

“Jail. After you’re arrested for stealing your brother’s title. You see, I did a bit of research after the real earl came to the coffeehouse today. You had an older brother who would be his age if he hadn’t died in a fire.”

Ned clenched his fists lest he lose control of his ire. “Except he did die in a fire.”

Lindsell cocked his head to the side and made a mockery of contemplating Ned’s statement. “Did he? I wonder, if I look, will I find proof of his death?”

Ned had always hated this lie, felt such guilt that his father had orchestrated all this and stolen George’s true identity. No, he likely wouldn’t have been the earl, but he would still have been Peregrine, his brother. But now, he was glad this blackguard wouldn’t have the satisfaction of creating havoc. “Go to St. Nicholas Church in Sutton. You’ll find everything you need.”

“How convenient. That lunatic looked too much like you. I don’t think it would be difficult to convince the necessary people that he’s actually your brother, that he never died.”

Lindsell’s red eyes were wild, and he sounded as if he’d been touched by lunacy. However, the veracity of his claim needled its way into Ned’s mind—here was the moment of truth he’d always worried might come.

Ned took a step forward, closing the gap between them. “And what if he is my brother? You’d never be able to prove it. What I said is true—you’ll find the record of his death at St. Nicholas.” Inhaling deeply, Ned worked to bury his anger and guilt. “The man you saw, the man who claimed to be the earl, is my cousin, who is, in fact, a lunatic.”

Lindsell stared at him, his jaw working.

“Go home and recover your wits.” Ned gave him a dismissive glower. “You appear to have a drinking problem.”

Lindsell opened his mouth but then clapped it shut. His eyes darkened as they filled with anger. “This isn’t finished,” he sputtered. “I’ll find a way to take something from you as you did from me.” He looked toward Aquilla, his meaning clear.

She narrowed her eyes at Lindsell. “I was never yours.”

Ned’s rush of pride and admiration was quelled by Lindsell moving toward her. At last, Ned’s composure snapped. He grabbed the baron by the collar of his shirt and dragged him toward the door. Skern rushed to open it.

Lindsell twisted, trying to get out of Ned’s grasp. “Unhand me!”

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you to a pulp. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Jackson’s, and I’m a regular visitor.” He lowered his voice. “In case you don’t understand, that means I can pulverize you with little effort.”

Ned pushed Lindsell out the door. He lost his balance and tumbled down the steps.

“Don’t bother us again,” Ned called after him. “You’ll be sorry.”

Ned turned, and Skern closed the door. Aquilla remained on the bottom stair and applauded. “That was an excellent show. Thank you.”

Ned bowed. “My pleasure.” He looked at Skern and asked to have dinner sent up to their room.

As they ascended the stairs, Ned shook his head. “I’ll never understand why your father agreed to marry you off to that jackanapes. I guess it was because of that land.”

“Partly. But mostly he just would’ve enjoyed knowing I would be miserable.”

They’d reached the landing, and Ned stopped. He turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a cruel man.” Her shoulder twitched. “He delights in hurting other people and watching them suffer.”

Ned’s eyes rounded, and he clasped her hands. “Tell me he never hurt you.”

She shook her head, but her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “No, never. At least not physically. I learned from a young age to stay clear of him whenever possible. As a daughter, I was of very little use to him. Not until I was of marriage age, and then I was an abysmal failure.”

Ned realized these were the things she didn’t want to tell him. The secrets that families keep. “You are not a failure. You are everything I dreamed I would find and so much more.”

She sniffed and smiled. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if we hadn’t found each other.”

“We must thank the rain.” He turned and tugged her into his bedchamber, closing the door behind them so he could quickly pull her into his arms and kiss her.

When they broke for air a moment later, she curled her arm around his neck. “The rain?”

“Without it, we may not have met.” He pressed kisses along her cheek and jaw.

“Of course, how silly of me to forget. I’m afraid your kisses leave me quite senseless.”

He licked along her neck. “That is precisely my goal.”

“Ned, do you think I could invite my mother to come and stay with us? I’m not sure she’ll want to, but I’d like to ask.”

He stopped kissing her long enough to look into her eyes. “If you can put up with George, I would be delighted to have your mother with us for as long as you like.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “I’m not putting up with George. He’s your family, and now he’s my family too. I’d like to have one that’s worth having.”

He kissed her again, this time on the mouth, with all the love swelling in his heart. “I adore you.”

She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “And I you. I’m sorry for ever doubting you.”

His gaze was intense as he brought his hand up to gently stroke her jaw. “I am more sorry for not telling you the truth sooner.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips, then gave him a saucy look. “How much time do you think we have before dinner arrives?”

“I think if we dash into my dressing chamber and close the door, it won’t matter.”

She picked up her skirt and ran across the room. “Last one there has to undress first.”

Ned chuckled as he watched his wife’s backside. “Just so long as you do the undressing.”

She turned at the threshold and crooked her finger at him, her eyes raking him with seductive intent. “With pleasure.”

Epilogue

Sutton Park, July 1816

Sutton Park was everything Aquilla had dreamed and more. Not because of the stunning Palladian exterior or the elegant Kent interior or the lush, expansive parkland or the meticulous garden, but because of the people. From Ned and George and Aunt Susannah to every retainer, Aquilla felt as though she’d finally found where she belonged.

The cold, wet spring had turned into a cold, wet summer. It had even snowed one day in June. But today was warm and clear, and they were taking advantage of it by having a picnic on the back lawn.

Aquilla watched from the blanket as Ned and George were playing battledore and shuttlecock. George was having difficulty hitting the shuttlecock, but instead of growing frustrated, he kept falling upon the grass laughing. This was likely due to his puppy’s attempts to “help,” which generally involved running between their legs and barking and otherwise causing them to lose their focus.

Ned stood with his racquet and grinned at his brother, who was now bent over petting Blake, whom George had named after his favorite poet. The delightful scene made Aquilla’s heart feel as if it might burst from her chest.

Which wasn’t to say everything was perfect. Today was one of George’s good days. He was lucid and engaged, quite charming really. But there were many days when he was quiet and withdrawn or agitated and confused. Dr. Paget seemed to have an excellent hand—his presence was truly a blessing.

Aunt Susannah chuckled as she set down the letter she’d received a short while ago.

Aquilla turned to the woman whom she now also called Aunt Susannah. “An entertaining letter?”

“It was from my friend Lady Chalmers. She said people are beginning to doubt Lindsell’s sanity. He simply won’t stop claiming that George is the true Earl of Sutton.”

Aquilla shook her head, finding pity for the man in spite of his actions. “It’s a shame.” He’d been at it for weeks now, even after visiting St. Nicholas Church in Sutton and seeing for himself that Peregrine Bishop was indeed deceased.

Though Lindsell’s claims were unheeded, Aquilla knew it troubled Ned. He would always feel guilty that George had lost his identity. Aquilla understood and was glad that Ned was able to care for his brother and give him the best possible life—a life he deserved.

“How was your letter from Lady Satterfield?” Aunt Susannah asked.

Aquilla had finished reading it a few minutes before. “She is doing well. With the Season drawing to a close, she and Satterfield will be coming here for a visit before going to their country house.” Ivy and Lady Dunn would also be visiting before they sojourned in Bath for the remainder of the summer and perhaps into the autumn.

It was the time of year when Aquilla and her friends had typically been forced to separate, which meant a frenzy of letter writing. She noticed it had slowed a bit in the last few weeks, likely due to both her and Lucy being married. She felt bad about that, she realized, and vowed to do better.

Aunt Susannah leaned forward and plucked a biscuit from the tray. “Lady Chalmers mentioned that the Duke of Clare is in the scandal sheets again.”

Aquilla didn’t doubt it. She and her friends had dubbed him the Duke of Desire because of his reputed liaisons with countless married women. “I’d ask what he’s done now, but I imagine it’s just more of the same.”

“Somewhat. There’s talk that he sired Lady Goodwin’s son.”

“I’m not sure I know who that is,” Aquilla said.

“She’s one of his many affairs, but this was a few years ago. Someone recently saw her son and reported that he has jet-black hair.” Aunt Susannah pursed her lips. “This is of note because both she and her husband are fair-haired.”

“I see,” Aquilla murmured, feeling bad for Lord Goodwin.

“At least the boy isn’t his heir,” Aunt Susannah said. “And apparently Lord Goodwin doesn’t particularly care.”

How would anyone know that for certain, Aquilla wondered. She doubted he’d make his opinions of his children known to the public. Not even Aquilla’s thoughtless father would do that.

Her mind turned to her parents. She’d invited her mother to come stay, but she’d declined. Aquilla wished she hadn’t, but surmised that her father had forbidden her to come. The control he exerted over his wife was frightening—Aquilla couldn’t imagine it. Especially not when she looked at her husband. Ned had just dived to hit the shuttlecock and instead sprawled facedown on the lawn.

Aquilla half rose. “Ned, are you all right?”

He held up his hand and waved the racquet as Blake ran to him and began licking him madly. Ned rolled to his back, petting the dog, and George, laughing, helped him to stand. Ned lumbered to his feet, brushed at his breeches, and called out, “I’m fine!” Blake barked as if to add his opinion as well.

Ned clapped a hand on George’s shoulder, and they made their way back to the blanket with Blake following behind. Soon after, Dr. Paget took George for his afternoon rest, where he often painted or wrote poetry. A few nights ago, he’d regaled his brother and Aquilla with his latest verse.

Aunt Susannah also excused herself, which left Aquilla blissfully alone with her husband. Ned barely waited until his aunt had entered the house before leaning over and pressing Aquilla back into the blanket.

The scents of grass and sunlight and man rushed over her, and she inhaled deeply as he nuzzled her neck.

He spread light kisses along her throat as she exhaled. “Was that a sound of contentment?”

“Most definitely. With perhaps a touch of arousal thrown in.”

He lifted his head and peered down at her. “Indeed?” He untied the ribbon of her bonnet and pushed the hat away. He traced his finger along her hairline and tugged a curl loose, twirling it as he looked into her eyes. “We’ve yet to explore the outdoors.”

His meaning was clear.

“The weather has been too contrary.”

He kissed her temple and then down along her cheekbone. “I thought we agreed we liked the rain.”

She thought of making love in the rain, water sluicing over their nude bodies, and decided that sounded rather decadent. And yet cold.

“I think I might like a warm rain even more.”

His lips trailed to her ear, where he used his teeth and tongue to play with her lobe. “Ah yes. We should go to Italy someday.”

“How will we do that with George?”

He paused in his attentions. “I am hopeful that there will come a day when we can leave him. In fact, I’d like to take you to Tintern Abbey in September, and I think it’s more than possible. The arrival of Blake has helped.” The adorable spaniel had gone inside with George and Dr. Paget. He spent most of his time with George, and Aquilla found she might want a dog of her own.

“Do you suppose Blake needs a friend?” she asked.

“He has one,” Ned said, going back to kissing her, this time along the column of her throat. “George.”

“No, of the canine variety.”

He chuckled against her, tickling her flesh. “My sweet wife. Do you want a dog?”

She tugged at his hair so he looked up at her. “Yes?”

“Then you shall have one. I am powerless to resist you.”

She smiled happily. “As I am you. Now, where are we to go exploring? This blanket seems a bit too…central.”

“Indeed it is.” He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her, his mouth and tongue stoking her arousal to full, unabashed lust. He pulled away and got up, tugging her to stand. “I have a place in mind.”

She slipped her hand in his. “Wherever you lead, I follow.”

As they walked down the slope of grass toward the copse of trees, he quoted Coleridge:

“And in Life’s noisiest hour,

There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,

The heart’s Self-solace and soliloquy.”

She picked up where he left off,

“You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within;

And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart

Thro’ all my Being, thro’ my pulse’s beat;

You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,

Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve

On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.”

They’d reached the copse, and he drew her into his arms.

“And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,

How oft! I bless the Lot that made me love you.”

She leaned up and kissed him, twining her arms about his neck. She paused long enough to say, “And I love you.”

The end

Thank you for reading! Check out the next book in The Untouchables series: The Duke of Desire.

Thank You

Thank you so much for reading The Duke of Deception. I hope you enjoyed it!

Would you like to know when my next book is available? You can sign up for my newsletter, follow me on Twitter at @darcyburke, or like my Facebook page at http://facebook.com/DarcyBurkeFans.

Reviews help others find a book that’s right for them. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative. I hope you’ll consider leaving a review at your favorite online vendor or networking site.

The Duke of Deception is the third book in The Untouchables series. The next book in the series is The Duke of Desire. Watch for more information! In the meantime, catch up with my other historical series: Secrets and Scandals and League of Rogues. If you like contemporary romance, I hope you’ll check out my Ribbon Ridge series available from Avon Impulse and my latest series, which continues the lives and loves of Ribbon Ridge’s denizens – Love on the Vine.

I appreciate my readers so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Books by Darcy Burke

Historical Romance

The Untouchables

The Forbidden Duke

The Duke of Daring

The Duke of Deception

The Duke of Desire

Secrets and Scandals

Her Wicked Ways

His Wicked Heart

To Seduce a Scoundrel

To Love a Thief (a novella)

Never Love a Scoundrel

Scoundrel Ever After

League of Rogues

Lady of Desire

Romancing the Earl

Contemporary Romance

Ribbon Ridge

Where the Heart Is (a prequel novella)

Only in My Dreams

Yours to Hold

When Love Happens

The Idea of You

When We Kiss

You’re Still the One

Ribbon Ridge: Love on the Vine

So Good

So Right

So in Love

Acknowledgments

This was one of the tougher books to write, perhaps due to the subject matter, but mostly due to just a lot going on in Life. I love how Aquilla and Ned’s love story turned out and hope you enjoyed the ride. I also hope you’re excited to read Ivy’s story in The Duke of Desire—it’s going to be a fun one!

As always, I want to thank my cover designer, Carrie Divine for another gorgeous cover. I also want to thank the lovely folks at Period Images for pure awesomeness. Thank you to my fabulous editing team of Linda and Toni and my fantastic beta reader, Elizabeth Wright. Huge thanks to Danielle Gorman and Corinna Varilek who really are the glue keeping me together some days.

A massive thank you to Elisabeth Naughton and Rachel Grant for their plotting help. George wouldn’t have been George without you!! Big smooches!

Last but never least, thank you to my family who puts up with my insane deadlines (especially this time!). It’s all for you.

Copyright

The Duke of Deception

Copyright © 2016 Darcy Burke

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1944576045

ISBN-13: 9781944576042

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Book design: © Darcy Burke.

Book Cover Design: © Carrie Divine/Seductive Designs.

Photo copyright: Couple © Period Images.

Photo copyright: Dress © Selenittt (Olena Molchanova)/Depositphotos.com.

Photo copyright: Background sky © Fairytale Backgrounds.

Photo copyright: Background stairs © wjarek (Wieslaw Jarek)/Depositphotos.com.

Editing: Linda Ingmanson.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

About the Author

Darcy Burke is the USA Today Bestselling Author of hot, action-packed historical and sexy, emotional contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age 11, a happily ever after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan who loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations.

A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her guitar-strumming husband, their two hilarious kids who seem to have inherited the writing gene, and three Bengal cats. In her “spare” time Darcy is a serial volunteer enrolled in a 12-step program where one learns to say “no,” but she keeps having to start over. She’s also a fair-weather runner, and her happy places are Disneyland and Labor Day weekend at the Gorge. Visit Darcy online at http://www.darcyburke.com and sign up for her new releases newsletter, follow her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/darcyburke, or like her Facebook page, http://www.facebook.com/darcyburkefans.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Thank You

Books by Darcy Burke

Acknowledgments

Copyright

About the Author