ASYOUWISH

JenniferMalin

CHAPTERONE

“Beautiful,” Leah

Cantrell murmured,slowing to admire thecanopyofleavesarchingover thepath. Shehadenjoyed her tour ofSoleburyHouse,butthesplendorof thegroundsleft her spellbound.Maybeancestorsofhershad roamed these verywoods. Maybe she feltnothing more than

perfect May weatherstirring her senses. Inanycase,everydetailofthe overgrown park,from the crumblingstatues to the scent ofsprouting greenery,charmed her . . . somuch that she actuallyfelt the tingle of tearsbehindhereyelids.She heard footsteps

crunching in the gravelbehind her and turned

toseeherfriendJeanineapproaching. The tall blonde

glanced at her watchandletoutasigh.“Stillhalf an hour until thebus leaves. It’s beensuchalongdaythatI’mready to go now. Whatdoyousay? Maybetherest of the group willhavethesameidea,andwe’ll be able to startbackforLondonearly.”

“But thisgarden is sogorgeous.” After fourdays on vacation, Leahhad begun to wish shehadamoreenthusiasticcompanion. Not Kevin,she told herself when apair of soft brown eyessparked in her mind.She dismissed thethought.“I’dstillliketofind that spring theguidementioned.”

“What spring?”Jeanine squinted backin the direction they’dcome from, apparentlytrying to see the bus inthefar-offparkinglot.“The one where the

Druidsworshiped.”Shesmiled, picturing themysterious ancientpeople, cloaked in longrobes, walking on thesamegroundwhere shestoodallthesecenturies

later. “The guide saidthat our custom ofthrowing coins intofountains comes fromprimitive sacrifices towaterdeities. Isn’t thatinteresting?”Her friend kicked a

large pebble off thecenter of the trail. “Iguess, but why do wehave to look for thespring?Doyouplanonwishing thatKevincalls

the hotel tonight,beggingyoutocatchthenext flight home toPhilly?”“Of course not!” Her

smile faded, and shestaredoffintoagroveofoaktrees. “I just foundthe story about theSolebury springintriguing. The springwas dry for almost twocenturies. Then aftertheheavyrainsEngland

had last month, thewater suddenly startedgushingagain.”Jeanine stopped next

to her, watching heruntil Leah met hergaze. “Don’t think Ihaven’tnoticedthatyoustarted wearing thatcheapringofhisagain.”Leah glanced down at

her left hand, adornedwith a tiny diamondchip set in fourteen-

karatgold.Shecouldn’targue with her friend’scharge of cheapness,but Kevin had nevercalled his gift anythingbut a friendship ring.Of course, the trinkethadalwaysmeantmoretoher.“After three years of

wearing a ring, myfinger just didn’t feelright without one. Ikept thinking I’d lost

something.”“Believe me, you

haven’t.” Jeaninecrossed her arms overher chest. “I’d hopedthistripwouldhelpyouforget that idiot. Can’tyou at least openyourself up to thepossibility of findingsomeone worthy ofyou?”She didn’t answer.

They’d had this

conversation before andshe saw no use inrepeating herself. Herfriend just didn’tunderstand theimportance of a firstlove. She’dneverdatedanyone long enough togrowreallyattached.Jeanine tilted her

head to one side,softeninghertone.“I’msorry, Leah, but youhavetoomuchgoingfor

you to settle for secondbest. With thatcinnamon-colored hairandbig green eyes, youcan have your pick ofmen. Whynot take fulladvantage of ourvacation and findyourself a nice English‘bloke’?”She shrugged.

“Despite what youthink, I am open to

meetingsomeonenew.Ijustdoubtthatmuchisgoing to happen on afourteen-daytour.”“Taking off that ring

mighthelp.” Jeanine’slifted eyebrowschallenged Leah tocontradict her. “If youwanttoweararing,buyyourself another one,the kind you deserve.Throwthatpieceofjunkin yourwishingwell--or

spring. Whatever.Personally, I’m too tiredtowalkanymore.I’llbewaiting back at thebus.” She flickered afinal half-smile andtrampledupthepath.Leah let out a sigh

and leaned back on astretch of woodenfence. Now that herfriend had gone, shehad to admit Jeaninehad a point.

Unfortunately, Kevinhad been a part of herlife for so long that shecouldn’t imagine beingwithout him. He mayhavebrokenupwithhertwoweeksago,buthe’ddone so before andalwaysendedupcomingback.Andalwaysleftagain,

too, she could almosthear Jeanine object.

Shoulders heavy, sheslumpedagainstafencepost and gazed off intothetrees.Asunlitpatchofstone

and mortar--almostcompletely camouflagedby leaves--caught herattention. Curious, shestood on tiptoe, thensquatted down, makingoutthecornerofasmallstructure of some sort.Careful not to tear the

cream-colored rayonsundress she’d boughtforher trip,sheduckedbetween the fence railsand wove her waythrough clusters ofbrambles toward a leaf-shroudedclearing.Her excitement grew

as she made out adecaying outbuilding,the foundationofwhichhad partly sunken intotheground.She’dnever

seenaspringhouse,butshe imaginedonemightlooklikethis.Whenshepeered around thecorner,apoolofcrystal-clear water confirmedherguess. She’d foundSoleburySpring.Setting down her

handbag, she stoopedbeside the pool andswished her fingersthroughthecoldwater.Shewastemptedtotake

a sip but remindedherself it might not besafe to drink. Shethoughtofsplashingherface but decided thewater was too icy. Herfingers had alreadybeguntoturnred.She rose and walked

around the edge of thepool, amazed that somuchwatercouldcomefrom a spring that hadbeen dry for so long.

When she reached theside opposite thespringhouse, she faceda huge oak. Watersurged among the thickroots with surprisingintensity. She grabbedthe trunk, leaningforward to takea closerlook.Adark,roundformin

theperimeterofthepooldrew her gaze.Fascinated,shereached

in and plucked out amud-coveredcoin.“Someone’swish,”she

whispered. From thelook of the coin, thewish had been made along timeago--definitelynotinthemere month or so

since the spring hadbubbledbacktolife.Sothe wish must havetaken place some twohundred years ago.

Couldsheactuallyhavefoundacointhatold?She rubbed the piece

inwater,andametallicshineslowlydeveloped--a golden shine. With alittle more cleansing,she could see the reliefof a man’s bustembossed in theprecious metal.Inscribed below, sheread the words,

“GEORGIVS III.” KingGeorgetheThird.“Wow.” To come

across such a findduringahalf-daytourofanestate!Thecoinhadto be worth quite a bit,but the value of thediscoverydidn’t impressher nearly as much asher luck. The piecemust have been burieddeep in the earth until

the resurging wateruncoveredit.She wouldn’t let

herself think what anastoundingsouvenirtheprizewouldmake. Theonlyrealchoiceshehadwastoturnthetreasureintotheestatestaff.Or she could throw

the coin back, hopingthe original owner hadreceivedhisorherwishallthoseyearsago.

She looked down atthe water, and thesentimental urgeoverwhelmed her.Someone, longago,hadmade a sacrifice toancientdeitieshereand,superstitiousornot,shedidn’t want to foil theirchances of getting areturn.Before she could

change her mind, shebalancedthecoinonthe

side of her index fingerand flicked her thumb.The glittering antiqueflipped head-over-tail inthe air until gravitycaptured the gold andpulled it down to plunkin the water. The coinsank into the deepestrecesses, disappearingin the roots of the bigoaktree.“There you go,” she

said. “Ihopeyourwish

came true,whoever youare.”She rubbedherdamp

handstogether,avoidingwipingthemonthepalefabricofherdress.Thethoughtoccurred toherthat if she had a wish,she didn’t even knowwhat she would want.Not Kevin, she toldherself.“TheonlythingIwish

right now,” she said,lookingat thewater, “isthat I knew who thatcoin belonged to andwhether they ever gotwhattheywanted.”Withasigh,shestood

and turned away.Engrossed in herthoughts, she forgot towatch her step andslipped on a moss-covered rock. Sheteetered backwards,

graspingforthetrunkofthe big oak, but herhand scraped down thebark. Treetopspinwheeled around her,and she glimpsed bluepatches of sky. Thenshe splashed into thepool, backside first, theicyspringwaterashocktoherbody.Insteadofsinkinginto

the muddy bottom, shesubmerged completely,

asthoughtheLochNessengulfedherratherthana little pool. Eyessqueezed shut, shestruggled to regainbalance, but her feetcouldn’t find theground, and the coldsent panic slicingthrough her. The poolcouldn’tbemorethanafew feet deep. Whycouldn’tshejuststand?Flailing, she fought to

hold her breath. Themuffled bubbling of herstruggles mocked her,and she thought herlungs would burst anyminute--or force her tobreathe in a flood ofwater. Adrenalinepumped through her,but none of her effortsbrought her to thesurface.Would she die in this

shallow spring,

thousandsofmilesawayfrom her family? Herparents’ faces flashedbeforeher, spearingherwith regret. In anothersecond, dizzinessmuddledherminduntilonly one thoughtbecameclear.Yes,thiswashowshe

woulddie.****

The next thing Leahknew, a pair of strong

handscaughtherunderthe arms and draggedher from the water,releasing her onto thegrass on her stomach.Someone pressed hardagainst her back, andshe coughed up water,sputtering and wipingher mouth, morehumiliated thaninjured. How stupid tobe rescued from a fewfeetofwater!

Anxious to regaincomposure, she plantedher palms against theground and pushedherself up to sit, legsstretchedout.Herheadfeltlight,convincinghernot to trystandingyet.Sheswipedsoakinghairout of her eyes and gother first peek at herlifeline--a tall,well builtman with a shock ofblack hair. His inky

brows arched devilishlyover eyes the color ofcoal, and his jawlineand cheekbones couldhavebeenchiseledbyasculptor.Hemusthaveworked as part of thetour, because he worean old-fashionedcostume, complete withform-fitting tanbreeches and gleamingblackboots.Naturally, the best-

looking man in Europewould be the one towitness her making atotalfoolofherself.Shegavehimaweaksmile.“Thank you for pullingmeout.”“I trust you will

recovernow?”heasked,coolly raising one ofhisperfectbrows.Despite her unnerved

state, she laughed atthis prime example of

British detachment.“Physically, yes, butmaybe not from myembarrassment.” Shegathered her long,straighthairintoarope-like wad and squeezedoutastreamofwater.“If you truly feel any

shame, madam, youdisguise yoursensibilities well. Mostwomen would show agood deal more

mortificationuponbeingdiscovered in naughtbut a shift.” He pulledoff his jacket, the thinwhite shirt beneathrevealing contours thatrivaled Michelangelo’sDavid. “Here, coveryourselfwiththis.”Shecaughttheornate

garment in midair anddangled it away fromher wet body. “Oh,thanks, but I wouldn’t

want to get yourcostumewet, nomatterhow cold that springwatermademe.” Teethchattering, she lookeddown at her sundressand plucked at thenearly transparentrayon--a worthlessattempt to keep it fromadheringtoherbreasts.“This was supposed tobedry-cleanedonly.Somuchforthat.”

Her rescuer’sdistinctive brows drewtogether. “Did youstrike your head whenyoufellintothepool?”“No,nothinglikethat.

I’ll be fine if I can justsit for a minute.” Theoak bark had scrapedher hand, though notbadly, and her armached,butonlyfromthestrain of holding hisjacket above the

ground. She gave it alittleshake.“Here,takethis back. I have asweater on the busthat’ll do until I dryout. God, I dreadhavingtofacethegrouplikethis.”Hedidn’tmovetoward

the jacket, and hisfrown sharpened into ascowl. “ForGod’ssake,madam, stop speakingnonsense and put on

the coat! I am scarcelyin the habit of rescuingdamsels in distress, letalone suited to standherelikeamonkwhileabeautifulwomanflauntsherself before me in aclingingshift!”A new wave of

humiliation washedthrough her, but shefought off her self-consciousness.Focusing on the

inspiring fact that he’dcalledherbeautiful,shelifted her chin. “Well,you Englishmen reallyarestuffy,aren’tyou?Ifthat’s the way you feel,thenfine.I’llwearyourjacket.”Shejammedherdamp

arms into the satin-linedsleeves,warmfromtheheatofhisbody. “Istill say that a fewminutes of comfort

aren’t worth ruiningyour costume. Once Igetbacktothebus, I’mgiving thisrightback toyou.”“Whatisthis‘bus’you

keep mentioning?” Hekept his dark gazelocked tightly on hereyes.“The tour bus--oh,

that’s right. YouEnglishcallitacoach,Ithink.”

“I can hardly allowyou to board a coachdressed in a drippingshift. Where is theremainder of yourclothing?” He glancedaround the pool, thenbackatherface.Shehadno ideawhat

he meant by “theremainder” of herclothes, but his firststatement irked her toomuch to care. Once

she’d escaped thesuffocation of herfather’s house a fewyears ago, she’d vowednever to let anyone elsetell her what she couldorcouldn’tdo.Sheputher hands on her wethips. “You’re in noposition to allow ordisallow my doinganything.”He lifted his brows

again, then smirked

down at her. “I shouldsayyouaretheoneinarather unenviablepositionat themoment,madam. Who are you,anyway? You’vecommented severaltimes on my beingEnglish.Whereareyoufrom?”“My name’s Leah

Cantrell, and I’m anAmerican.” She

suppressed thememories about herfather and fought torestrain her anger.Deciding there was nouse debating astranger’s chauvinism,sheheld outherhand.“I didn’t realize I’dperfected myenunciation enough todisguise myPhiladelphia accent. Iguess a bachelor’s

degree in language andlitisgoodforsomethingafterall.”Hestaredatherhand

before finally takingherfingers andbowingoverthem with ridiculousformality. “DavidTraymore at yourservice, Miss Cantrell,thoughIwillwarnyouIam rarely at anyone’sservice.Unfortunately,Icannotleaveyoutoyour

own devices. Despitewhat you claim, I fearyou did strike yourhead.”Had she detected an

ever-so-slight catch inhis voice? She thoughtshe had and excusedhis condescension as amacho cover-up for realconcern.Wavingoffhisworries, she absorbedhis name and couldn’thelp mentally

comparinghimagain toMichelangelo’smasterpiece. “David,huh? Figures. Butwait, you said DavidTraymore. Oh, I get it.That’s the role youplay.”She knew from her

tour that Soleburybelonged to theTraymores. Now thatshe thought of it, this

actor bore a strongresemblance to one ofthe family memberswhose portrait she’dseen--thelatesonofthecurrentmarquess. Yes,his name had beenDavid, ViscountTraymore. Thisimpersonator hadsootier hair and moreintense eyes than thereal viscount, who hadbeen lost at sea when

his father’s yachtcapsized in theMediterranean.“Youdolookalotlikehim.Buttheold-fashionedget-updoesn’t make sense tome.”“I fear your words

makelittlesense,either,Miss Cantrell. I assureyouI’mnotplay-acting.”Strange that he stuck

with his character inthis situation. And he

took the role soseriously, not like thesing-songing actors atRenaissance fairs andstaged medievalbanquets.Shegrinned.“Sorry to disappointyou,butIpaidattentionduringthetour.Iknowabout his yachtingaccident.”He stared blankly, as

though she’d made upthestory.

All at once, sherealizedtheguidemighthave done just that.She shook her head.“Waitasecond.Areyouactually the viscount?Isthatyachtstoryjustafabrication for tourists?Please don’t tell me theone about the spring ismadeup,too.”Still, he looked at her

as if she spoke Greek.“Miss Cantrell, I am,

quite frankly, havingdifficulty decipheringyour jabbering. I amindeed David Traymorebut, until now, no oneother than myself hasever dreamed of mygaining the title‘viscount.’Myfather,infact, took some time toapprove my mother’sdecision to bestow hissurnameuponme.”She frowned. “Maybe

I’m confused about thetitle.Butyouareheirtothe Marquess ofSolebury?”He laughed, if such a

bitter snort could becalledalaugh.“Youaredelightfullymisinformed, MissCantrell. That honorbelongs to my halfbrother.LordWilliamisthe marquess’s

legitimateson,yousee.”She studied his

striking features,currently twisted into agrimace. So he’d beenborn illegitimately andresented the fact. Butwhy had the tour guidecalledhim“thelostheir”anddistinctly told themthe marquess had noother offspring? Well,shedidn’thavethetimeto get to the bottom of

the story. If she didn’thurry back to the bus,she’dholdupthewholegroup, and an angryJeaninewould not be apleasantroommate.“You’re right about

one thing,” she said,carefullyhoistingherselfto her feet. “I’mdefinitelymisinformed.”Hesteppedforwardto

grab her elbow--a goodthing, since another

wave of dizziness hither. Still off-balance,she threw a resentfullookatthemerepuddlethat somehow hadalmost swallowed her.But a glimpse of thespringhouse made hergasp. In place of thecracked mortar andcrumbling stones she’dseen justa fewminutesbefore, four unbrokenwalls stood strong and

level. She whipped herfocusaroundtowardthebig oak--except the bigoak had disappeared,andafragilesaplinghadsprouted in its place.Her dizzinessintensified, and shestaggered backwardaway from the pool,thinking, for the firsttime in her life, shemightfaint.David Traymore

grabbedher around theshoulders, his strongarm the only thing thatkeptherfromstumblingto the ground. Shegrasped onto his waist,terrified that he mightvanish theway the treehad. Butnoamountofanxiety could refute thesolid muscles of hisabdomen, hot with theenergy of life eventhroughthe linenofhis

shirt. Relieved, she lethershoulderfallagainsthischest.“Nowyouseethatyou

did indeed strike yourhead.” He bent andscooped her up like achild,carryingherbacktowardthepath. “Iwilltake you to the manorhouse. My father’swifewill care for you untilyourinjuriesmend.”She felt as confused

as a child, too, andfeared she might startcryinglikeone.Forcingherself not to give in tohysterics, she put herfree hand against thecoolskinofherface. “Ijustwanttogetbacktothebus.”“We shall send a

footman out to yourpeople and tell them tobring the coach aroundto the stables. Don’t

concern yourself abouttheir being wellreceived. You will findthe marchioness a verykind hostess. How sheeverfellintomyfather’sclutchesIcannotsay.”“I don’t understand

this,” she managed tosay. “Theguidetoldusthere was nomarchioness.Imustbehallucinating. Yes,that’s it. I didn’t get

enough oxygen while Iwas underwater, andmy brain still hasn’trecovered.”“Well, your brain will

recover nicely underPhoebe’s care.” He sether on her feet andloosened his grasp, notletting go completelyuntil he saw she couldbalance herself. “Canyou stand on your ownfor a moment while I

untie Reveler? If Imount him first, heshould allowme to pullyou up without muchprotest.”Distracted by her

reeling thoughts, shehadn’t even noticed theenormous black stallionsnorting and shufflingon the other side of thepath. Never havingstood so near a horse,she watched in awe as

David Traymore untiedthe reins and steppedinto one stirrup,swinging his other longleg over the saddle.When he motioned forher to come closer, shehesitated. She hadnever realized a horsecouldbesolarge.“You are frightened of

horses?” he asked, eyesnarrowing slightly. “Ishan’t ask why, since

your answer wouldlikely make as littlesenseaseverythingelseyouhavesaid.Iassureyou Reveler will do younoharm. Hemayhavethebearingofademon,buthe isasgentleasapussycat.”Helookeddownatthe

animal, scratching himsoftly behind the earsand getting nuzzled inreturn. “Of course, he

does all he can to hidehissofterside.”Witnessing the

exchange, Leahguessedthe horse and masterwere well matched, notonly in appearance butpersonality. Convincedof her rescuer’s “softerside,” she went forwardandliftedherarms.Hepulled her up with notrouble, placing hersideways in the saddle

in front of him. Sheleaned into his chest,soothed by the warmthofhisbodyandthefaintwoodsy scent of hiscologne--a brand shedidn’trecognize.He put one arm

around her midsectionand held her tightly asthehorsetrottedupthepath toward thehouse.Sheclosedhereyesandheld onto his hips, a

little embarrassed bythe intimate position.Luckily, she had plentyof other worries todistract her--theprospect of Jeanine’sanger, as well as thealarming hallucinationsshe’dhadatthespring.“Here we are,” David

said after a fewminutes.“Holdontothesaddle, and I’ll assistyou down after I

dismount.”She opened her eyes

andgrabbedthehornofthesaddleasheslidoffbehind her. He turnedand lifted her fromunder her arms, settinghergingerlyonthedirt.Another employeedressed in an old-fashioned costume tookcharge of the horse,eyeing her soggy formbriefly before bowing

andwalkingaway.David took her elbow

and steered her acrossthe dusty drive towardthe manor. When sherecognized the door asthe main entrance, shegulped down anotherrush of misgivings. “Icould have sworn thisdriveway was paved.”She tried to shake offthe eerie feeling, tellingherself she must have

beenmistaken.He ignored her

commentandledherupthree polished marblesteps,whichLeahknewhad been cracked andstainedearlier.Anothercostumed man openedthe double doors forthem, and they steppedinside the house . . .onlytheshabby interiorshe’dseenanhourorsoago had somehow

transformed into abeautifully maintaineddecor.She slapped her

hands over her eyes,then uncovered themagain,butthedreamlikegrandeur was stillthere. Instead of thefaded wallpaper she’dseen before, intricatelycarved panels lined thehall. While the wallshad been practically

bare earlier, they nowdisplayed a stunningselection of paintings.And the ragged, garishredrugsherememberedhadbeenreplacedbyanelaborate paisley carpetinrich,darktones.“Oh, my God.” She

closed her eyes again.“What is wrong withme?”Afemininevoicebroke

into her thoughts.

“What has happened,David? Who is thisyounglady?”“Youwillhardlycredit

the story when I tellyou,Phoebe.ItseemsIhave rescued a helplessmaidenfromdrowning.”“David, this is clearly

no time for yournonsense.” Warm, slimhands took Leah’s ownand rubbed themvigorously. “Oh, you

poor thing, your fingersarelikeice!”Ameeker,girlishvoice

said, “Beggin’ yourpardon, ma’am, but Ijuststokedupthefireinyoursittingroom.”“Perfect, Molly.” The

more mature womantook on a tone ofurgency. “Let us moveherinthere.”Leah had no choice

but to openher eyes in

order to be led throughthe house. David heldheronearm,andattheother was a mahogany-haired beauty,noticeablypregnantandalsodressedincostume.The costumes

bothered Leah. Theemployees she’d seenearlierhadbeenwearingnormal clothing. Andhow could she explainthe changed

appearances of themanor and thespringhouse? Couldshe trust herperceptionsatall?Shebegan to tremble,

making out only bits ofthe others’ conversationastheytalkedaboveherhead:“nearlydrowned”.. . “her shift only” . . .“an American” . . .“coach waiting” . . .“brain entirely addled” .

..They directed her

toward a blazing fire,and the heat comfortedheralittle,butshefeltapang of uneasinesswhen David left theroom. A girl in an old-fashioned maid’s caphelpedherundressandslip into a flannel robe,then the hostess hadher stretch out on abackless sofa, wrapping

her in a thick downcomforter.Sheproppedtwo big feather pillowsbehind Leah andhanded her a steamingcup that smelled likesomesortofherbaltea.Leah sipped the

somewhat bitter drink,hovering over the cupwhile the two womenfussed with the pillowsand comforter. The teasoothedherremarkably-

-more than sheimaginedpossibleunderthecircumstances.Her body began to

thaw, and thefrightening images inher “addled brain” grewmurky. A strangecontentment settleduponher,andshesankback deeper into thepillows. Gradually, sherealized her fear hadmelted right along with

thechillshe’dfelt.Nowshe felt warm, relaxed,almostblissful.“The tea,” she

murmured, gazing intotheemptycup.“Whatwasinthetea?”“Herladyshipputina

black drop, I reckon,miss.” The maid tookthe cup from Leah’slimpfingers.“A black drop? . . .

Soundsexotic.”Smiling

faintly,she letherheadfall back into billowingdown. Wonderful,warm, secure. She feltas though she’d beencoldallherlifeandnow,for the first time,hadatoasty blanket to warmher. Her strangeexperiences took on thehues of a fantasticadventure. She felt asthough she’d never

knownwhatitmeanttobe alive, and now shestood at the brink ofultimateknowledge.David Traymore–

where had he gone?Shehadtothankhim...forsavingherlife.

CHAPTERTWODavid Traymore rode

up to his father’sresidenceforthesecondconsecutive morning,setting a personalrecord in the frequencyofhisvisits.Duringhischildhood, his motherhad brought him toSolebury Housequarterly, dropping himoff at the back door,

whereshecollectedhimagain several dayslater. As he grew, hisservice-door entrygained significance, andwhenhegotoldenoughto understand hisposition in the family,he stopped comingaltogether. He hadbelieved nothing wouldever coax him back,especially after hismother, theonlyperson

much concerned in thematter,died.Heslowedhishorseat

the front entrance,mulling over the eventthat had changed hismind. Phoebe, theonlydaughter of his latearmy mentor, ColonelAlbert Sheffield, hadmarriedtheMarquessofSolebury. She hadplayed big sister toDavid since his father

purchased him acommission in thecavalry forhissixteenthbirthday.WhenColonelSheffield lay on hisdeathbed, Davidpromised him to lookafter her. If he hadknown the girl wouldend up marrying hisown father, he mighthave hesitated. Butthese days, the need toensure the marquess

treated her decentlyoutweighed his ownwish to avoid theman.Hence, once again, hefound himself visitingSoleburyHouse.Swinging down from

the saddle, he tossedReveler’s reins to awaiting footman andtook the marble stepstwo at a time. Henodded to the butlerand brushed past him

into thehall justas themarchioness emergedfrom her sitting room.Leaving the door ajarbehind her, she held afingeruptoherlips.He glanced through

the crack, attempting apeek at the beautifulAmerican he hadrescued the day before,butalargecabinetclockblocked his view.Phoebe tapped him on

the shoulder, and heheeded her motions forhimtofollowheracrossthehall.“Miss Cantrell has

just fallen asleep,” shewhispered, leading himinto the library. Shecollapsed on a setteenear the fireplace,leaning back anddrapinganarmovertheback of the seat. “Shehad amost fitful night,

alternately tossing inhersleepandwakingina cold sweat. I fear Igave her too muchlaudanum. I shouldhavetakenintoaccounthowpetitesheis.”“And you should take

your owncondition intoaccountaswell.”Davidpulled up a chair andsatfacingher.“Nursingan invalid through thenight is hardly a task

youshouldundertakeatthis time. Now, morethan ever, you needyourrest.”Shesmiledandplaced

a hand on her roundedbelly. “You are kind toworry aboutme, David,but I assure you I havebeen coddling myself.Mollyistheonewhosatwith Miss Cantrell allnight. I relieved heronlyanhourago.”

“Good.” He lookeddown at his hand,examining his nails fornothing in particular.“Are you certain thelaudanum is whatdisturbedyourpatient?I judged her state ofmindrather fragileevenbefore you gave her thetea.”“I fancy that a brush

with drowning wouldhave a similar effect on

mostofus.”He lookedup intoher

large brown eyes. “Butshe should have beenabletowadeoutofthatpool with no difficulty.Even at the deepestpoint, Idoubt thewaterrises higher than herwaist. Has she saidanything more abouthow she came to fallintothespring?”Phoebe shook her

head. “No. Fromwhatyou told me yesterday,she spoke more to youthan she did the wholetime Molly and I satwithher.”“Yet nearly everything

shesaidtomemadenosense whatsoever.” Hestoodandwalkedtothefireplace, staring intothe flames with onehand braced on themantel. “The footman I

sent to question yourneighbors reports thatno one saw the coachshe claimed waited forher.”Phoebe’s brow

furrowed. “Did youhave time to inquire inthevillage?”“I did, but I had no

better luck there. Noone knew of a youngAmerican of herdescription, and I

should think herunusual hair colorwouldberemembered ifseen. Furthermore,none of the innkeepershad served travelers atluncheon or tea. Yourforeign houseguest isattainingquiteanairofmystery.”“Yes. Ionlypraythat

when,orif,shegivesusan explanation, the taleis not so horrid as I

fear.”Before David could

ask her meaning, solidfootstepssoundedinthehall, and they bothlookedtothedoor.Themarquess entered theroom, combing hisfingers through histhick, salt-and-pepperhair. On spottingDavid, he hesitated inthe doorway, the jambproviding a frame for a

more substantial, yetnot stocky, version ofhisson’sleanbody.Straightening inreflex

tohis father’s entrance,David considered theirony of their markedfamilyresemblance.Hishalf brother, William,hadallthelegalclaimtobeing the man’s son,while he, David,possessed all thephysical evidence.

Indeed, the likenessbetween him and themarquess went so fartheymight have passedforbrothers,ratherthansimply father and son.Solebury had sired himasamerestripling.His lordship regained

his bearing and gaveDavid a stiff nod. Hewent to Phoebe andkissed her cheek, thenwalkedtoalargecherry

wood desk, where hepicked up a decanter.Without meeting hisson’s eyes, he said,“Good to see you againsosoon,David.Willyoujoinmeinabrandy?”“I believe I will.” His

father’sexcellentbrandyoffered some aid,however inadequate, intolerating the man’spresence. He stoodback andwatched until

Solebury had filled twolargesnifters,thencameforwardtoclaimtheoneholdingslightlymore.After both men had

gulped down mouthfulsof the fiery liquid, theelder spoke, his voiceslightly unsteady.“Have you learnedanything more abouttheyounglady?”David shook his head

and said nothing,

stepping back to thehearth to reclaim hispostbeforetheflames.Phoebe looked at him

with pursed lips, thenturnedtoherhusband.“No one in theneighborhood or villageknows anything abouther. The wholebusiness is mostunfortunate. Whoeverher family is, theymustbe frightened out of

their wits wonderingwhat has become ofher.”“If so, then why are

they nowhere to befound?” Lord Soleburyrubbed his chin inthought. “Perhaps weshould call in aconstable. Withnoonenearby claiming arelationship to her, shemaywellbearunaway.”“No, Harold, please.”

The marchioness stoodand went to herhusband, taking up hishandinhers. “Ifsheisa runaway, she mayhavehadgoodreasontoleavehome.”“My dear, she is far

more likely to have nogood reason. I daresaymost young girls whobolt from their parentsdo so because theirspoiled nature has not

been indulged quite sowell as they havelearned to expect. Wehave no cause, norindeed any right, tokeep her from herfamily.”“But, Harold, have

yougivenmuchthoughtto the way David foundher?Drowninginapoolonly a few feet deep? Iloathe to voice such athought, but do you

thinkshemayhave...may have beenattempting somethingdesperate?”David’s focus shot

from the fire to Phoebe,and gooseflesh rose onhis arms. He hadknown moments in hisyouth when death hadcalled to him with theseductive lureofpeace.Schoolboys’ taunts hadsometimesmountedtoa

crippling crescendo.And his mother’spassing had left alooming void withinhim. Buthehadneverreached the point ofcapitulation. Had thatbeautiful young womansunkenmoredeeplyintodespair than he everhad? Unhappily, theappalling suggestion fitthepuzzletoowell.The marquess stared

athiswife,atlasttakinganotherswigofbrandy.“You think she mayhaveintendedsuicide?”“Idon’tknow,Harold.

Indeed, I don’t evenwant to consider thepossibility unless shegivesusmore cause forconcern when shespeakstous.But,atallcosts, I should like toavoid sending her backtoanabusivesituation.

Letusatleastwaituntilshe recovers and seewhatshehastosay.”David watched with

balled fists while hisfathereyedtheceilinginthought. Finally, themarquess looked backto his wife. “Very well,love.Weshallwaituntilwe know her story.Meanwhile,ifherpeopleshould turn up, I’llmake inquiries before

placing her in theirchargeagain. Thus,wecan ensure no villainyawaits her at home.HaveIsatisfiedyou?”“As ever.” She

stretched up to kisshim, but somethingmade her start andshoot a look toward thedoor to the hall. Sheheld up a hand tosilence the others, andthe sound of a quiet

moandriftedinfromthesittingroom.“Miss Cantrell is

having anothernightmare.”Wastingnotime,shepickedupherskirtsandhurriedoutoftheroom.David wanted to run

after her but quicklysuppressed the urge.What good could hepossibly do? Heexchangedaglancewith

his father, downed therest of his brandy andset the snifter on themantel. “I suppose Imay as well be on myway.”“Stay a minute,

David. Please.” LordSolebury held his gaze,his upper lip twitchingever so slightly. “I’vebeenmeaning tohaveatalkwithyou.”Heraisedhisbrowsin

surprise. As much ashe would have liked toescape, the novelty ofhis father’s requestintrigued him. Heproppedhimself againstthemantelagain.“Verywell.Whatdidyouwishtodiscuss,mylord?”The marquess sighed

and shook his head.“SomuchthatIscarcelyknow where to begin.”He reached for the

decanter and lifted thestopper. “Would youlikeanotherdrink?”“I think I’ll pass this

time.”WhileSoleburypoured

himself a secondbrandy, David’s mindwandered to the scenetaking place across thehall. What sort ofnightmares plaguedMissCantrell?“To cut to the core of

the matter,” his fatherinterrupted histhoughts, “I should likeyoutotakeupresidencein the gate house. TheSargentsmovedoutlastmonth,andtheplace isleft without a tenant.As a bachelor, you willfind the dwelling quitecommodious, and youcanhaveuseof--”“Wait.” Scarcely

trusting his own

hearing, David held upboth hands, palmsfacing out. “First, tellme one thing: Why onearth would I want tomove onto this estate--or anywhere evenremotely in thevicinity?”“Well, I knowyou like

to look after Phoebe,though I assure youthat you have no needto do so.” Solebury

leanedbackagainst theheavy desk. “I alsohope, perhaps in vain,that yourpresenceheremight garner yourbrother’s notice,possibly even prompthimtocomehome.”“My brother?” David

laughed. “I shouldn’tthink the prospect ofseeingmewouldprovidemuch attraction forWilliam when he has

gaming and women tokeephiminLondon.”“Yes, rather toomuch

of gaming and women.Obviously, you haveheard the tales.” Themarquess swirled hisbrandy and took a sip,then looked his son inthe eye. “I thoughtsettingupabitofrivalrybetween you two mightdotheboysomegood.”“Indeed?” David

turnedbacktolookintothe fire, a burningsensation lashing hisguts like the orangeflames licked the flueofthefireplace.“Sothisisall about bringing yourheirtoheel?”“Not entirely. Your

living here would alsogive me the chance tocometoknowyou.”Spinning back

around,Davidstaredat

him. “So you havesuddenly decided youwant to knowme, haveyou?”“Ihavealwayswanted

toknowyou.”“But not enough to

marrymymother.”Toofurious to saymore, hewalked to the windowand looked out at themeticulously tendedpark. At theendof thedrive, the gate house

stood, a handsomestone buildingsurrounded by ablossoming garden. Hecurled his lip at thepastoralscene.“I was young,” his

father said from behindhim. “Tractable. I didwhat my familydemanded,concedingtotheir ideas of a suitablemarriage. Of course,William’smotherturned

outtobe...well,letussimply say that I cameto regret mycompliance. And nowthat Ihavemadea lovematch, I fully realizehowmuchI lostwhenIgave up your mother.Of course, my regretsignifiesnothingtoyou.But I should like tomakeamends.”David continued

watching out the

window.“I fearyouaresome thirty years toolate.”The marquess

paused. “Certainly toolate to marry yourmother--though,indeed,ifwehadnotlosthersoyoung, I would haveoffered for her after myfirst wife died. In anycase,IhopeIamnottoolate todosomething foryou. Phoebe has told

me you have taken upimporting, but youclearly had betterprospects with thearmy. Would a morevaluable commissionentice you to return?Lieutenant, perhaps.ColonelSheffield alwaysspoke highly of yourcomposure duringbattle. By his account,you would make a fineofficer, and I do have

some influence in thatquarter.”David turned around,

teeth clenched. “I amnot interested in yourinfluence, my lord.Whatever I cannot earnwith my own abilitiesand hard work meanslittletome.”“But some goals

cannot be reached withonly ability and work.As unfair as the truth

may seem, certainpositions can beachieved only throughconnections.”David snorted. “So I

have heard. Whatbetter place to learnthat lesson than in hismajesty’scavalry?”“Is that why you sold

yourcommission?”When he failed to

answer, the marquessreturned to his seat,

taking a long drink ofbrandy. “At leastconsider my proposalaboutthegatehouse.Itrulywouldliketoknowmyson.”David feltamuscle in

his cheek quiver. Hecould not recall everbefore having heardSoleburycallhim“son.”But that fact onlyillustratedhowlittle theman had ever offered

him. He swallowed. “Ithankyou,mylord,butIdaresayweknoweachotheraswellasweeverwill.Gooddaytoyou.”He stalked from the

room, nearly collidingwith Phoebe in the hallas she left the sittingroom.“Iwas justcoming for

you, David,” she said.“MissCantrell hasbeencallingforyou.”

“She what?” hesnapped, still infuriatedbytheinterviewwithhisfather.“Ifindthathardtocredit.”Phoebe cast her gaze

downward. “Well,perhaps she has notexactly ‘called’ for you.But she hasmurmuredthename‘David’severaltimes.”He laughed. “Dear

Phoebe, she clearly

referstoanotherDavid.After all, your patientandIarehardlyonfirst-name terms. We have,infact,barelymet.Shelikely has a brothernamed David . . . or alover.” He glancedthrough the doorwaytoward the recamierwheretheyoungwomanlay.“Orshemaybecalling

you.”

He lookedbackat themarchioness, whoselarge brown eyesimploredhimto indulgeher.“Whatharmcancome

toyouinsittingwithherfor a fewminutes?” sheasked.He stood undecided a

moment longer, thenlifted his gazeheavenward. “None, Isuppose.ButItellyouI

shan’t easily growaccustomed to thisangel-of-mercyrole.”She rewarded him

withawarmsmile.They entered the

room,Davidgoingtotherecamier, while Phoebehung back near thedoor.Heseatedhimselfinachairthathadbeenpulled up close to thepatient’s side, and shestirred at the sound of

hismovements.Remembering

Phoebe’s speculations,he shuddered. CouldMissCantrelltrulywantto snuff out theprecious, precarious lifethatcausedherchesttorise and fall so softlyunder thecounterpane? Hewanted to shake herand tell her never tothink of such an

abomination again, tellhertograbontolifewithboth hands and climbonfortheride.Instead,hewatchedherbreathe,silently willing her tocontinue.She shifted slightly in

her sleep, facing awayfrom him with her hairspilled across thepillow. He had neverseen such gorgeoushair,almostunnaturally

beautiful in both colorand sheen. Thoughdeeper in hue, thelustrous red made himthink of candy canestripes--shiny, cool, theportion one imaginedtasted sweeter than therestofthesweet.He reached out to

touch the spun sugar,buthereyelids flutteredopen,andhelethisarmfallagain.

Rubbinghereyes,shefixed her gaze on him.The corners of hermouth curved upward.“David.”Surprised, he glanced

back at Phoebe, whoshrugged before heturnedawayagain.“David with the

devilish eyes,” MissCantrell murmured,“trying to disguise thesoulofanangel.”

He heard Phoebegiggle behind him.“Well, she has yourmeasure,doesshenot?”“I should hope my

character is morecomplexthanonedazedstatement wouldindicate,” he shot backover his shoulder.Feeling a gentle touchon his knee, he swungback around to findMiss Cantrell weakly

reaching out to him--agesture so intimate helonged to crawl underthe counterpane withher. Instead,heturnedto Phoebe for herreaction.His young stepmother

walked forward a fewsteps and nodded. “Goon and hold her hand,David. She needscomforting, and shecertainly responds to

you.”He looked back to

Miss Cantrell, who nowstretched both armstoward him. Instead ofclimbing onto therecamierwithherashewanted, he followedPhoebe’s suggestion.Miss Cantrell’s fingersfelt warm, slender andsoft, attesting that shehad never needed tolaborforherliving.But

he had alreadyappraised her as gentlyborn. Her speech haddistinctly educatedtones, though obscuredby that strangeAmericanaccent.Shesighedandclosed

her eyes, apparentlycontentwithholdinghishand. He felt absurdlydisappointed,as thoughshe might have urgedhim to snuggle up

beside her and sleep.He watched herporcelain face forseveral minutes moreuntil the even rise andfall of her blanket-covered breastsindicated she haddriftedoffagain.Clearinghisthroat,he

saidtoPhoebe,“Youdidgive her too muchlaudanum, though Ibelieve the effect is

beginningtofade.”Themarchionessdrew

closer.“Youdon’tthinkthe drugwill harmher,doyou?”He shook his head,

eyesstill focusedonthepatient. “No, I haveseen soldiers sleep offfar worse laudanumstupors than this. Ibelieve she will recoverby evening, thoughshe’ll likely have a

beastly headache for aday or two, especiallysince she hit her headyesterday. I trust youtendedherinjury?”“I would have, had I

discoveredone,butfromwhat I can tell, sheescaped her ordealunharmed.Ibelieveshereceived a good scarebutnothingmore.”“You found no blood,

no lumponherhead?”

He set down MissCantrell’s hand andmoved to examine herscalp, but the thoughtof taking such a libertyunnerved him, and hepulledback.“Isupposeshe might simply havebeen in shock. Sheundoubtedly appearedso, or . . .” He trailedoff,unwillingtoproposeshe might be mentallyunsound.

“We won’t know thewhole story until she iswell enough to tell usherself.” Phoebe smiledgently. “Your presencehascalmedhergreatly.Perhaps you couldspeed her recovery ifyoustayedwithusforafewdays.”He threw a startled

lookather,butherfacerevealed no signs ofcunning. Slowly, he

shook his head. “No,Phoebe,youcannotpullthe wool over my eyesquite so easily. I seethrough your wellintentioned butmisguidedmotives.Youwill not convince me tostay in my father’shouse.”“I had thought about

the gate house,actually.”“Noronhisproperty.”

He stood and turnedawayfromher.“David,I’mnotasking

this simply for Harold’ssake. I truly need youto help with MissCantrell. Youknow I’mtired these days, hardlyup to nursing her as Iought to do. Sheresponds to you, trustsyou. She is obviouslyquite frightened ofsomething,andforsome

reason your presencecomfortsher.”He sighed and closed

his eyes. “Iknow thereismoretothisthanyoucontend.”“Butyouwillstayand

helpme?Ineedyou.”He glanced down at

Miss Cantrell’s peacefulface, then at Phoebe’schildlike eyes. Howcouldhe refusePhoebe,the one person he

considered family? Ifhis motives ran anydeeper than that, hehad no inclination toexplore them. “Verywell. Tell Solebury I’llbe staying at the gatehouse for a few days--against my betterjudgment.”“And we can expect

youtodinewithushereat the manor housetonight? I hope Miss

Cantrell will be on herfeetbythenandcanbepersuadedtojoinus.”He shrugged, his own

acquiescence surprisinghim. “I suppose I mayaswellcometodinner.Better to suffer hislordship’s company foran hour or so than trytofinddecentfareinthevillage.”Sheclaspedherhands

together in front of her

chest.“Excellent.IwillinformCookandensurethe gate house is madeready for you. And, bytheway,I’mexpectingacall from your old armycomrade, LieutenantHarlowe,soyoumayaswell come to tea also.”She walked from theroom, a sly smileplayingatherlips.“Minx,” he muttered

when she left earshot.

He looked back atMissCantrell, who stirred inhersleep.“Butperhapsthe more bewitchingspritelieshere.”Unable to resist

touching her hair anylonger, he took up athick lock in his hand.He might have held aboltof silk, forallof itsexquisitetexture.Twirling the tresses

around his fingers, he

couldn’t deny beingdrawn to the lovelystranger, thoughmystery womennormally held no allurefor him. His owndubious position insocietyprovided enoughuncertainty in his life.He liked to knowprecisely where thewomenheknewstood--usually somewhere inthedemimonde.

He studied MissCantrell’s classicallyformed profile,attempting tomake outhercharacter.Hereasy,artless mannerdemonstrated none ofthe coyness of adebutante, and he hadalready ruledheroutofthe working class. Shelacked the boisterousways of the actressesand opera singers he

knew, as well as theguile of a courtesan.Intowhatnotchdidshefit?And why should I

trouble myself towonder? he askedhimself, frowning.Wherever she stood inthe world, her positionwouldsurelyprovemoresound than his. Hemight even point that

outtoherifsheshowedany further inclinationtoharmherself.He let her glossy hair

slide from his fingersand took a step backfrom the recamier,gazing on her one lasttime. Damn the littlehoydenforflauntingherwet, lithe body beforehim in such aningenuousway thatshe

musthavesufferedfroma head injury, despitehavingno lump. Damnher for sleepilybeckoning him into herarms today. Damn thechit, in short, formakinghimwanthersobadly . . . in a way hecouldneverhaveher.

CHAPTERTHREELeah woke with a

start, springing up intoa sitting position.Disoriented, shescanned the formaldecor of the room.Detailed wallpaper,probably hand-decorated, covered thewalls with Orientalscenes. The furniturelooked antique--though

in perfect condition--including the hard,backlesssofawhereshelay under a heavycomforter. In a nearbyfireplace, a blazeflickered and crackled,heating the roomsurprisinglywell.Acoatof arms hung over themantel, the name“Traymore” scrawledbeneaththecrest.

Oh, yes, the sittingroomatSoleburyHouse–the setting for the onenightmare she hadn’tbeen able to shake.Apparently, she hadn’tdreamed up heraccidentatthespring.She wiped

perspiration from herforehead and traces oftears from her cheeks.Her head throbbed, but

her mind had begun toclear fromtheupsettingimages that hadhaunted her all night.And morning, shethought, noting thebrilliant sunlight thatspeared through thewindows.Swingingherlegsover

the side of the couch,shesetherbare feetonathickPersianrug. Asshe stood, a pain

pierced her skull, buther legs held out tosupporther. Shemadeher way past thefireplaceandstopped infront of a window,looking out at thegrounds.A horse-drawn

carriage pulled awayfromthehouse.Thoughshe guessed the vehiclemust be part of ahistorical enactment,

something about thesight made hernervous. As shewatched the wheelschurn up puffs of dust,she realized what: thedirt driveway again,whensheremembereditbeingpaved. Evidently,her night of fitful sleephadfailedtoputanendtoherhallucinations.Had her brush with

death done permanent

damage to her brain?Hermind seemed to beworking normally. Shecould focus on a singlesubject without losingconcentration. Herthoughtsseemedtoflowlogically.Thedreamlikestuporshe’dbeeninallnight had definitely

lifted.A costumed gardener

passed the window,

dragging a wooden cartfull of seedlings, andshe marveled at thedetail of the portrayal.Every aspect of thescene reflected a pastage, giving her an eeriesense that instead ofwatchingadepiction--orhallucinating, for thatmatter--she really hadgonebackintime.She forced a laugh at

herself.Hernightmares

must have affected hermorethansherealized.Oneortwohadrevolvedaround the theme oftimetravel.“MissCantrell,Iamso

glad to see you up andabout,”a femininevoicesaidfrombehindher.Leahturnedtoseethe

pregnant woman whohad helped her the daybefore. Today sheworeadifferentdress,though

one much likeyesterday’s costume.The flower-speckedwhite skirt sectionstarted just below herbreasts, curving overherprotrudingabdomenand falling straightdown to the floor. Asheervest-likeoverdresscovered thewhole outfitfor an effect of casualelegance.“I am Lady Solebury,”

she said, dropping alittle curtsy. “I daresayyou may not recall ourmeetingyesterday.”“I . . . I remember a

little.” Gathering thatshe faced themarchioness DavidTraymore hadmentioned, Leah foundherself offering anawkward imitation ofher hostess’s gesture.“I’m sorry if I’m not

greeting you correctly.I’m an American andnot used to addressingnobility.”LadySoleburysmiled.

“And I am not entirelyaccustomed to beingaddressed as such,havingmarriedSoleburyless than a year ago.Before that, I was plainMissSheffield. Butyoudid very well, especiallyconsidering the ordeal

youhavebeenthrough.I hope you feelsomewhatmoreyourselftoday?”“Yes, somewhat,

thank you. I . . . I’mverysorrytobesuchaninconvenience. I can’tbelieve I fell asleep onyourcouch--and for thewholenight,too.”The marchioness

lookeddownatherfeet,whichpeekedoutunder

her gown in shoesresembling balletslippers. “I fear I hadsomething to do withyour fatigue. I put alittle laudanum in yourtea to calm you, but Imusthavegivenyoutoomuch. I do apologizeand hope you canpardonme.”“Oh . . . sure,” Leah

said, stunned to hearthe drug had been

laudanum. Wasn’t thatsome sort of old-fashioned opiate? SheguessedthatinEnglandthey might still havedrugs outmoded in theU.S.--but opiates?Maybe they used thename laudanum forsome modernalternative.Inanycase,whatever she’d beengiven had knocked herforaloop.

“I’ve had a chambermade up for you,” herhostess saidwith a shysmile. “I would havemovedyouintoaproperbedroom earlier, but Iloathed to disturb yoursleep. I hope you arenot in such a hurry toleave that you won’tallowme to showyouabit of hospitality. Mymaidhas laid out someclothing for you to

borrow, and I thoughtyou might like a bathdrawnandsomethingtoeat.”Surprised by the

woman’s extraordinarykindness, she took amoment to think aboutwhether she shouldacceptortrytogetbacktoLondon immediately.Jeanine would beworried,butshecould call her and

explain what hadhappenedatthespring.Considering the tricksher mind had beenplaying on her, stayingput for awhile seemedthesensiblethingtodo.Before she could

answer, the weight of alingering gaze drew herattention toward thedoor to the hall. Herdevilish-looking rescuer,David Traymore, stood

in the doorway,appraising her withfathomless black eyes.The intensity of hisstare made her breathcomequicker.Following the path of

hergaze,LadySoleburyspotted him, too.“David, I’m glad youlookedinonus.Asyoucansee,MissCantrellisfeelingbetter.”He bowed stiffly, his

expression mask-like.“I’mpleasedtohearit.”Oh, he’s a cold one,

Leah thought, eventhough he had savedher from drowning andbrought her up to themanor house torecover. Then sheremembered the tenderplay between him andhis horse, and heropinion softened. Not

cold, she amended, butveryguarded.“MissCantrell,doyou

remembermy stepson?”Lady Solebury asked.“Mr.Traymore.”“Yes, of course.” She

recalledhernewEnglishmannersanddippedanamateurcurtsy.“Thankyou again for rescuingme.”Henoddedbut letout

a snort of laughter.

“Pleased to be ofservice.Theroleofheroissuchanovelty.”“Indeed?” Lady

Solebury shot back athim, putting her handson her hips. “Howprematurely you haveforgotten the time youspentatwar.”He gave her a rueful

smile but let hercommentpass.The marchioness

lookedtoLeahandsaid,“I fear my stepson is abitwildinhisways,butI assure you he has aheart of gold. Oh, andspeaking of gold, Ihavesomething of yours.”Shewenttoajaronthemantel and dug inside,offering the contents toLeah.“Mollyfoundthisin the pocket of yourshift.”Leah held out her

hand, and her ladyshipplaced a coin in herpalm. The golden face,scratch-free andsparkling, read“GEORGIVS III.” Howhad the coin she’dthrown into the springendedupinherpocket?But, on second

thought,thiscouldn’tbethesamecoin.Notevena nick marred KingGeorge’s portrait, and

thegoldgleamedbeyondwhat polishing couldhaveachieved.Yet she had a strong

sense it was the samecoin, transformed--justlike the driveway hadchanged from pavementtodirt...and,nowthatshe recalled, the houseinteriorfromshabbinesstosplendor.At the thought of

those hallucinations,her hand began totremble. The coinslipped through herfingers and landed onthe carpet with a dullplunk.“What is it, Miss

Cantrell?” DavidTraymore steppedforward and stooped topick up the coin,examining the facewitha frown. “Is something

wrong?”A rush of terrifying

images assaulted her,some from hernightmares, some fromthe waking horrorsshe’d experienced. Shesaw the changes in thespringhouse, thedisappearanceofthebigoaktree,andthehorse-drawn carriage pullingup the drive. Vaguevisionsfromherdreams

took shape: the springsurroundedinfogandaspirit forming in themist to tellher thatherwishwouldbegranted.Herwish?Her gaze fell on the

coin David held,converted from abattered antique intogold that could havebeen minted yesterdayinsteadof...

Suddenly, sheremembered speakingaloud at the spring:“TheonlythingIwishisthatIknewwhothecoinbelongedtoandwhetherthey got what theywanted.” Was this thewish she would begranted?No,she’donlydreamed up that watersprite--but her accidentat the spring had been

real.She stared at David

andLadySolebury,whoboth waited for her torespond. “What is . . .whatisthedate?”Her ladyship smiled.

“The fifteenth of May,dear.Yousleptonlyonenight, if that’s whatyou’rewondering.”Leahswallowed.“And

theyear?”The others exchanged

glances, then LadySolebury answered,“Why,1815,ofcourse.”“Eighteen-fifteen?”

Herkneesbuckled.Shewould have fallen ifDavid hadn’t jumpedforward to catch herunder the elbows. “Did. . . did I hear youcorrectly?”“Yes, 1815.”

Frowning, themarchioness came

forwardandpressedherfingers to Leah’sforehead. “You don’tseem to be suffering afever, dear, but thatlaudanum has quiteundone you. Come, letus show you to yourchamber,whereyouwillbemorecomfortable.”Leah heard only half

of what she said butoffered no resistance asLady Solebury and

David led her into thehall. Her thoughtsraced back to themoment normality hadceased for her: themoment David hadpulled her out of thespring.The spring had taken

herbackintime,soshecould learnwhether theoriginal wish wasgranted. Ofcourse, thewholeideaseemedcrazy

but, deep inside, sheknew she’d hit on thetruth.“Goodness, you are

shaking,” themarchionesssaidassheand her stepsondirectedLeahupawide,curving staircase. “Weare rightherewith you,love,andwewon’tallowany harm to come toyou.Ipromise.”Leahfixedhergazeon

the woman’s eyes,struggling to regainsome semblance ofcomposure. “I . . . I’msorry.”“Nonsense.” Her

hostesssteeredher intoa brightly sunlitbedroom and sat downwith her on a largecanopied bed. “Don’teven think aboutwhatever is troublingyou,MissCantrell.You

areundermyprotectionnow--as well as themarquess’s and Mr.Traymore’s.”Leah glanced at her

rescuer, who stoodwatchingherclosely.“Laudanum distorts

reality sometimes, MissCantrell,” he said,though he didn’t soundvery confident. “Muchof your anxiety may beattributedtothedrug.”

“How much?” Hissuggestion didn’tconvincehereither,butshe tried desperately tokeep an open mind.“CouldI,forexample,bedreamingrightnow?”He glanced at the

marchioness, then backat Leah, his darkeyebrows crunchedtogether. “I fear not,but I, too,would like toassure you of your

safety.”Determined to

consider her dreamtheory anyway, shelooked around theroom. Sunlight bathedthe pastel yellowwallpaper, illuminatingthe tiny buds thatspeckled it. Beneathher hands, a matchingdamask bedspread feltcool and finelytextured. Both her

sensesandherthoughtsseemed clear--butdreams could berealistic.They could also be

tested.A book lying on the

nightstand caught herattention. She hadnever been able to readinadream;by the timeshereachedtheendofasentence, the words atthe beginning always

changed. Snatchingupthe volume, aleatherbound copy ofJaneAusten’sMansfieldPark, she opened to apage in the middle andskimmed the first fewsentences.“She could not respect

herparents,asshehadhoped. Onher father,

her confidence had not

beensanguine, but he was

more negligent of hisfamily,hishabitswereworse,

and his mannerscoarser,thanshehadbeenprepared

for.”Her throat

constricted. Not onlycould she understand

the words, but thepassagemadeherthinkaboutherownparents.Her relationship withthem lacked respect,too--on both sides,unfortunately. Butunderneath all theirdifferences, she knewthey loved her. Sheloved them, too, andnowshemightneverseethemagain!She swallowed the

lump in her throat andsnappedthebookshut.Obviously, she couldread. She wasn’tdreaming. Given that,she couldn’t bear tothinkaboutherparents.“Do you like to read,

Miss Cantrell?” herhostess asked. “Mysister left that novelbehind last time shevisited. She said shegreatly enjoyed the

story.”Leah looked stupidly

at the book in herhand. She had to pullherself together and tryto act normal. LadySoleburyandDavidhadbeen very kind to her,but if she didn’t calmdown, they would startto doubt her sanity.Who knew what thatmightmean in the year1815? Commitment to

Bedlam? Being lockedinacellorchainedtoawall?She took a deep

breath. “Yes. I’ve readit.”“Indeed? I had no

idea Miss Austen hadbeen published in theStates.” She pausedand looked to David.“Mr. Traymore, I thinkyou can leave us now.Would you tell Molly to

have Miss Cantrell’sbath brought up? Idaresay she will feelbetter after a goodsoak.Ialwaysdo.”“Do you have to

leave?” Leah heard thewordscomeoutofher mouth before

thinking about whethershe should say them.As cynical as Davidseemed,hehadrescuedher, and his presence

feltreassuring.Butshecouldn’t cling to him.Shehadtofindherownstrength. “I’m sorry.Thatwasstupid. I’llbefine soon. My head isclearingalready.”“Did you strike your

head,MissCantrell?”heasked, his eyes intent.“Yesterday you told meyouhadnot.”“Oh. You know,

maybe Idid.” Leahputonehanduptothebackofherskulland feigneda wince. “I am a littletender. I’m afraid Idon’t remembereverything about myaccident. Yes, Iguess Imusthavehitmyhead.”Lady Solebury laid a

hand on her shoulder.“Well, I personally willoversee your recovery,

Miss Cantrell.Meanwhile, Mr.Traymore needs to goand dress for dinner,and thatwill giveyouachancetodothesame.No doubt you will feelmuchbetterbythetimeyou meet him at thetable.”“Oh, yes. Yes, of

course.” Leah gave anervous laugh andnodded to David.

“Thankyouagain.”“Your servant,” he

murmured. Turning tothe marchioness, hesaid, “I will send Mollytoyoudirectly.”Shethankedhim,and

Leahwatchedhimleavethe room, attributingthe strong attachmentshe felt for him to thefact thathe’d savedherlife. She thought backon the conversation

they’dhadatthespringand realized howstrangesomeofhertalkmust have seemed. Asfor the discrepanciesbetween what he’d toldherandthetourguide’sstories, now she knewthe guide had beendescribing a differentera. The DavidTraymore in thephotograph she’d seenduring the tour must

havebeenatwenty-firstcentury familydescendantof thisone.AndtherootsofDavid’sbitter nature wereclearer now, too.Illegitimate birth wouldbe a bigger problem inthiscentury.“Miss Cantrell, dear,”

Lady Solebury said, “Iwill only trouble you amoment longer beforeMolly comes with your

bath. I don’t mean topry, but I must ask ifyou have family orfriends whom I shouldcontact. I imaginethey’re quite concernedaboutyoubynow.”She looked away,

forced to think of herparents again. Werethey worried? Grievedover herdisappearance?Technically, they hadn’t

even been born yet, sotheir grief wouldn’tcome for almost twocenturies. Maybe shecould somehow returnbefore they had time tomissher.Could she get back

home the way she’dcomehere?Sheglancedout the window towardthe wooded areasurroundingthespring.Terrorat the thoughtof

nearly drowning madeher wonder if sheshould even try. Whyhad she been whiskedinto the past anyway?Only because she’dspoken a thoughtlesswhim out loud as shethrewanoldcoinintoaspring?Ordidshehavesome other purpose inthis century, somethingmoreimportant? “MissCantrell?” The

marchioness leanedcloser to her, lookinginto her eyes. “If youdon’t want me tocontact them, I shan’t.If you are in some sortof predicament, Ipromise to do all I cantohelp.”“No, it’s nothing like

that. In fact, Iwishwecould reachmyfamily.”She pushed a long

strandofhairoutofherface. What could shetell this sweet woman?Certainly not the truth,thoughshedidn’tliketolie. “They’re . . . in theStates.Fornow,I’monmyown.”Herladyshipfrowned.

“But you cannot bealone. Surely someoneaccompanied you toEngland? Youmentionedsomething to

my stepson about acoach. Perhaps yourtraveling companionsmightbeseekingyou?”She shook her head.

“Ihadafriendwithme,butshewon’tbelookingformehere. I’msorry.I really don’t mean tosound mysterious. Istill can’t seem to thinkstraight.MaybeIam ina predicament. I

appreciate your help,but I think Ineedsometimetosortmyselfout.”Her hostess watched

herwithnarrowingeyes,but just when Leahexpected aninterrogation, LadySolebury got up andwent to the door.“Certainly, dear. Youtake all the time yourequire to determinewhat course is best for

you. For now, all youneeddo isrelax inyourbath until dinnertime.You are joining us fordinner,Ihope?”Leah didn’t have

much choice if shewanted to avoidstarving. She onlywondered what shewould do once she’dwornoutherwelcomeatSolebury House. “Yes,thankyou,ifit’snottoo

muchtrouble.”“No trouble at all,

dear. You must staywith us as long as youlike. I shall enjoy thecompany. I often findmyselflonelyouthereinthecountry.ButIshallbe quite content for thetime being with bothyouandDavidvisiting.”She grinned suddenly.“Yourangelofmercy.”

“Yes.” Leahdid thinkofhimthatway,thoughit was funny that hisstepmother would referto him so quixotically.“I probably would havedrowned if he hadn’trescuedme.”“Well, I am very glad

hedid,butyoumustn’tbother to feel overlyindebted to him. Yousee, I may well enlistyou to do the same for

him.”Thesoundofshuffling

feet approaching in thehall prevented Leahfrom asking about thecryptic statement. Themarchioness steppedout of the way, while amaid and four maleservants came in,carryingatubandpailsofwater.“We’ll speak more on

the subject later,” Lady

Solebury said throughrising wisps of steam.She left, and theservantssetupthebathbefore the fireplace.They looked to Leah formore instructions, andshe excused them,feeling awkward in theroleofmistress.After they left, she

locked the door,stripped off herunfamiliar muslin

nightgown and steppedintothetub.Sheeasedher body into thesoothing hot water,concentrating onbreathing slowly andsteadily. She couldn’tlet herself think aboutmagic fountains,ancient Druids orEinstein’s Theory ofRelativity. If she did,she really would windupinBedlam.

Fornow,shewoulddoher best to take theScarlett O’Haraapproach and “thinkaboutittomorrow.”Shewould focus on hersurvival, both physicalandmental.Onlywhenshe had regained someemotional footing wouldsheworry about gettinghome again--if shecould.

CHAPTERFOURDavid emerged from

the back of the gatehouse, pausing toadmire the pinks andpurples of the settingsun. He took in a longbreath of the dew-freshair and closed the doorbehind him. As hestepped onto theflagstone walk, afootmanappearedatthe

other end, coming offthemaindrive.“Good evening, Mr.

Traymore.” The youngman swept him a lowbow, typical of themarkeddeferenceDavidreceived at SoleburyHouse and nowhereelse. “My lady, themarchioness, wishes toinform you dinner willbe served in half anhour.”

“Well, tell LadySolebury she needn’tworry about mytardiness . . . orabsence, if that is whatshe fears.” Never abelieverinsubservience,he tendedtorespondtotoadies with scorn. Ofcourse, the youngfootmanhadbeenhiredto toady and could dolittle else. He clearedhis throat and added

with more grace, “I willjoin her ladyshippresently. First, Ishouldlikeamomenttoadmirethegarden.”“Of course, sir,” the

youth said, his facesolemn. “I hope youfind all in order. LadySolebury also sendsword that the gatehousekitchenhasbeenstocked for yourconvenience.MayIask

ifallpreparationstothecottagehavebeenmadetoyourliking?”“Very much so.”

Though David wouldscarcely admit thetruth, he privatelysavored this chance tostay in the littlecottage. Through mostof his boyhood, achildless couplewho letthe house had indulgedhimwith the runof the

place. Their home hadbecome his favoriteretreat during visits tohisfather’sestate.“Youmay tell themarchioness I am quitehappy with herarrangements. I neednothingfurther.”The footman bowed

andranoff, leavinghimtoturnandlookbackatthe house. As he eyedthestonefacade,dozens

of forgotten memoriesresurfaced:playingwithtoy soldiers in thegarden, eating biscuitsby the kitchen hearthand enjoying hours offreerein ineveryroom.He realized withsurprise that he mustknow every nook andcranny of the place--right down to a secretpassageway he haddiscovered in the cozy

room that served asstudy.A wry smile pulled at

his lips as he recalledimagining himself theonly living soul whoknewaboutthetunnel.Even all these yearslater, he clung to aboyishhopethatnooneelse of his generationhad stumbled onto thehinged wall panel thatconcealedtheentrance.

He would not mind anoldretainerknowing--orperhaps even themarquess--buthewouldrather his half brotherWilliam remainedignorant.Thetunnel, ifno other part of theestate,belongedtohim.“Foolishness,” he

muttered, quitting thecottage garden, alongwithhismemories.

Acknowledgment ofhis folly, however, didnotpreventhisenjoyingthe dusky landscape.Birds chirped as theytook to their nests forthe evening. The lowsun painted the treesand grass with anotherworldly glow. Ashe progressed throughthe park, David himselffeltanalltoorareglow.Whenhadhelasttaken

the timetoappreciateasunset?He turned up the

driveandwalkedtowarda huge full moon,balanced on an orangeand lavender horizon.The brilliant spectacleabsorbed him . . . untila crackling of twigs offto one side broke thetranquility. The noiseseemed to have comefromthepaththatledto

thespring.Amid the darkened

woods, something palefloated, obscure andghostlike, then gone.Perhaps he had simplyglimpsed a dove but, inlight of Miss Cantrell’smishap, he felt a swellofmisgiving.Surely,hehad no reason tosuspect a reprise ofher“accident,” but hisapprehensionstillstuck

withhim.He stole down the

path to investigate,praying he would beproved wrong. Thestone wall of thespringhouse felt coldand damp on his backasheinchedtowardtheend near the pool. Heheard no sounds ofmovement from theothersideandbegan towonder if his eyes had

deceivedhim.Butwhenhe peered around thecorner, his stomachclenched.MissCantrell,oddly still, stood at theedgeofthewater.For the first time in

their acquaintance, shewore conventionalattire, a maize-coloredsilkgownandoverdressthatcascadeddownhergentlycurvedbody.Herrich auburn hair had

been subdued into aloose knot atop herhead,butsmalltwistingcurls escaped, playingonhercheekbones.“I wish,” she said

softly to the empty airbeforeher,“that Icouldgo back to the timewhereIbelong.”He contemplated her

strange words. Theremust have been a timewhen she felt she

“belonged” more thanshe did now--though towhatorwhomremainedamystery.She stared at the

water with eyes thatalternatelywidenedwithapparent fright, thennarrowedasthoughshewilled her fears away.With her almostpreternatural beauty,she might well havebeen a Celtic priestess,

hovering before thespring to invoke thepowers needed for aDruidrite.Butheknewher for mere flesh andblood, and his heartsanktorealizeshemustbe summoning couragefor something far moredreadful.Reluctant to accept

the evident, he resolvedto allow her anothermoment,hopinghehad

misinterpreted hermotives.Hewaitedandwatched as she liftedher hand and peeredinto her palm, thenclasped her fisttogether. Whatever sheheld had a weightysignificance for her.She looked back at thewater and took a deepbreath. Closing hereyes, she steppedforward,teeteringonthe

brink of the pool. Hecould no longer doubtshe meant to plungeintothewater.“Damn you,” he

hissed,leapingoutfromhishidingplace.Still oblivious to his

presence, she swayedprecariouslyforward.He vaulted forth and

snatched her aroundthewaist.Oneyanksether feather-light form

aloft, alighting again ayardawaywithhisarmsto keep her fromtumbling.“Damn you to hell,

woman!” He trappedagainst her his chest,through she made noefforttoescape.“Isthatreallywhatyouwant?”“Oh, my God,” she

gasped, her eyesrounded like two greenmoonstones. She

clutched him as tightlyas he held her anddraggedhim yet furtherfrom the spring,apparently seized--rather belatedly--byterror.Hecouldfeelherbody

trembling, and hisinitialangermelted intocompassion. What onearth had she sufferedthat left her sodetermined to end her

life?The faint scent of

rosewater drifted upfrom her hair, and heplaced his hand on theside of her head,cradling her against hisbody.“David,” she

whispered.Thoughshehadcalled

him by his given namebefore, the second timestartledhimasmuchas

the first. He ought tohave found the stolenliberty presumptuous,even rude, but herartless manner drewquite the oppositeresponse.Sheusedthefamiliar address sonaturally that he feltalmost as though theybelonged on intimateterms. He even had acompelling urge toaddress her the same

way.“Leah?” The word

fairly caressed histongue.Shelookedupathim,

her eyes still wide andlips slightly parted, asthough inviting a kiss.Indeed, everythingabout theircircumstances cried outfor kissing, from theirintimate embrace totheir use of given

names. Even thevulnerability he read inher uptilted eyebrowsimpliedaninclinationtobend to his will. Shemoistened her lips,heightening the tensionto an unbearableintensity.But for all the magic

of her spell, he couldnot quite forgethimself,hisstationinlife...thecoil of scandal that

originated in the verymoment of his birth.Thetimeswhenhemostlonged to ignore hisunhappyparentageonlyserved tomakehim feelhis disgrace moresharply.He stared into her

eyes, and she returnedhim a steady gaze. Inthis overwrought state,shemightwellsubmittohis advances, butwhen

she recollected herselfshe would realize howlow she had stoopedand would come to rueher indiscretion. Hehad no doubt of herproper breeding. Shecould make a goodmarriage and livehappily--so long as anobleman’sbastardwithno prospects did notcompromiseherfirst.“I won’t.” He let her

go and turned his backto her, shamed by histhoughts. At such amoment,heoughttobelecturing this youngwoman on the value oflife, not calculating hischances of seducingher. He ought to bedelivering a sermon toher that would rivalHamlet’ssoliloquy.Hamlet. What an

unhappyreference,with

Leah having twicechosen “not to be” over“tobe.”HadFatemadean equally poor choicein placing him in theposition of helping thisyoung woman? Hehopednot,forhersake.“Youwon’twhat?”she

askedfrombehindhim.He spun around and

faced her. She nolongerboreherselflikeaCeltic priestess. Her

bodyhadwilted,makingher look small andchildlike.Shewaitedforhim to speak, and herealized, however badlysuitedtoit,hemust.“I won’t simply shrug

off these ill-judgedattempts of yours.” Heforced himself to stepclosertoher.“Whateveryourdifficultiesmaybe,whatever miseries youmay want to escape, I

begyoutoconfideinmeratherthanresorttoanact of desperation. Imay not have thepositionandwealththatgrant worldly influence,but I have connectionswhodo. Theremustbeawaywecanhelpyou.There are alwaysalternativestothis.”She watched the

motion hemade towardthepool, then liftedher

gaze back to his eyes.“Whatdoyoumean?”The blank expression

on her face bore everymark of confusion, buthe had witnessed thatform of equivocationbefore. He threw hishands up inexasperation.“Drowning yourself.There is alwaysanotherway--and I don’t speakas a stranger to

desperation.”Her eyes widened.

“Did you think I meanttokillmyself?”“Are you claiming you

did not?” he snapped,annoyed that she choseevasion over trusting inhim. “How else do youexplainnearlydrowningin water too shallow toengulfaninfant?”For a long moment,

she only stared, each

passing second furtherdepleting his hopes forher candor. Before sheanswered, she brokeawayfromhisgaze.“I didn’t want to kill

myself. All I cansay isthat I slipped and fellintothewater,andthen. . . well, I can’t reallyexplain what happenednext. Idid try tostandandget out of thepool,but I just couldn’t

manage.”Her slow manner of

choosing words madehim suspect her oftelling half-truths. Hewatched her until shelifted her gaze from thegroundtomeethis.“Very well, let us

suppose you are tellingme all you can aboutyesterday’saccident,”hesaid. “Why would youreturn to the scene of

your ordeal today? Ishould think youwouldnever want to see thisspringagain.”Sheturnedandlooked

toward the pool, avisible tremor rollingdown her body. Hescrutinized her profile,waitingforheranswer.“Sometimes you have

no choice but to faceyour fears.” Sheswallowed. “You might

sayIcamebackheretoundo the harmyesterday’s accident didtome.”“By leaping back into

thespring?” Hewishedhecouldbelieveher,butno sane young womanwould make such achoice. Of course, shemight not be sane, butthat possibility pleasedhimnobetter.“Whatif,once again, you were

unable to pull yourselfout?”She shuddered and

torehergazeawayfromthe water, insteadstaring off into thewoods. “The thoughtdidcrossmymind.”At least she showed

some fear of death--inessence, some will tolive. He walked to theedge of the pool andturned his back on the

water, providing atemporary barrierbetween her and theunthinkable. “Why didyounot ‘faceyour fears’with someone standingbytokeepwatch?”She still would not

look at him. “I didn’twant anyone tointerfere.”“To interfere with

what? With yourleapingintothepool?”

“Yes.”He let his shoulders

slumpin frustration. “Idon’t like this. If youare telling the truth, Iwant tohear therestofthestorynow.Isuggeststarting with whatbrought you to thespring yesterday,followed by as full anaccount as possible oftheaccident.”“I...I’mnotreadyfor

that.” Finally, she methisgaze,hereyesbrightand direct. “I wish Icould openup to you, Ireally do, but you’dneverbelieveme.You’dthinkI’mcrazyandhaveme locked away inBedlam.”So, she showed some

concern for herperceived sanity aswell. Perhaps he couldprod her into showing

more. He steeled hisfeatures into a glare.“Andwhatdoyouthinkwillhappentoyouifyoudon’t cease theseattemptsonyourlife?”Her eyes rounded yet

again. “You wouldn’t!You wouldn’t put meaway, would you,David? I told you Iwasn’t trying to killmyself. I swear Iwasn’t.”

Of coursehewouldn’tconsign her to anasylum,evenifheknewforcertainshemeanttohazard her life again.But perhaps stokingupa healthy fear in herwould stave off thepossibility of anothersuchattempt.“If you continue to

showatendencytowardself harm, I’ll have nochoice,” he said.

“Suicide is anabomination, and ifphysical restraint is theonlywaytopreventyourcommitting it, then youmustberestrained.”She stared at him in

obvious horror. Whenher lower lip began toquiver, he almostrecanted but remindedhimself her fear wouldserveherwell.“You are positively

gothic!” she exploded,herchestheavingasherbreath came in quickpuffs. “Though in thisday and age, whyshould that surpriseme? All right, fine. Ipromise I won’t comenear this spring on myownagain--ortrykillingmyself in any otherway.Areyousatisfied?”“Ishouldthinknot. I

shallhavetokeepaveryclosewatchonyou.”Hefeltatwingeofpleasureat the prospect butimmediately chidedhimself. “Naturally,LordandLadySoleburywill wish to attend youaswell.”“What? You’re not

going to worry themwith this nonsenseaboutmybeingsuicidal,are you?” She stepped

forwardandgrabbedhisupper arm, her warmfingers digging into hismuscles. “Please,David,don’t.”“They already have

their own suspicions,Leah.”Withthescentofroses teasing hisnostrils, he couldn’tresist continuing to useher given name. Howcould this beautifulcreature want to

squander her life? Hewould do his best,inadequate as thatmaybe, to prevent her.“Indeed, I did not thinkoftheideamyself.”Sheletherhandslide

down his arm andmoved a few stepsaway. “This is worsethan I thought. Arethey thinking of havingmecommitted?”He shrugged. “I’m

certain themarchionesswishes to help youanyway she can, butshe will need yourcompliance. As for themarquess, well, I havenever known him toshow a great deal ofempathy. If Iwereyou,I should tread verycautiously where he’sconcerned.”“Oh,God.” Sheputa

handuptoher lips. “If

they think I tried tokillmyself yesterday,today’s fiasco will onlydoubletheirsuspicions.And I really didn’t. Idefinitely don’t want todie yet. David, pleasedon’t tell them aboutfindingmeheretoday.”He could see she had

begun trembling again,and he regretted thenecessityofmaintainingaseverestance.Butthe

soundoftwigssnappingin the woods signaledthat the decision wouldnot be his, anyway.Phoebeemergedintotheclearing, dressed indinner attire andfollowed closely by hermaid.“Miss Cantrell, thank

God you are safe!” sheexclaimed, expelling adeepsighasshehurriedforward.“WhenIfound

your chamber empty, Ithought . . . but thatdoesn’t matter. Whaton earth are you doingat the spring? David,are you mad, bringingherbacktothisplace?”He nearly laughed at

her automaticassumption of his poorjudgment. She hadprovided stable groundfor prevarication onLeah’saccount.Should

he standupon it? Oneglimpse at Leah’ssilently pleading eyesmadeuphismind.“Admittedly, not one

of my wiser decisions,”he said, grimacing tohimself over the powerLeah held over him. “Imet Miss Cantrell justoutside themanor, andshe asked if I wouldaccompany her here.She hoped that facing

the spring would helpalleviate some of thefear she has sufferedsince yesterday’smishap.”Phoebe looked to

Leah, her big browneyes registering astonishment. “Howbrave you are, MissCantrell! Did yourstrategyhelp?”She glanced at David

and, receiving no

further aid from him,droppedhergaze. “If ithas, I can’t tell yet. Istillfeelprettyshaken.”“Yes, you look upset,

you poor thing. Yourface is as pale as themoon.” Phoebesteppedclosertoherandplaceda hand on hershoulder. “Let usreturn to themanor. Ihave no doubt you willfeel much better once

youhaveeatendinner.”Leah gaveher aweak

smile. “I have to admitI’m looking forward toeating a real mealagain. Myappetitewasstill off this afternoon,butnowI’mstarving.”Phoebe laughed.

“Starving, are you?What a colorfulmannerof speech youAmericanshave.Well,Idaresay a good appetite

betokens recovery fromthe laudanum I gaveyou. Thankgoodness!”She let go of Leah’sshoulder and startedtoward the path to thedrive.“Molly,couldyourun ahead and tell hislordship to meet us inthediningroom?Iwalkrather slowly thesedays, and by the timewe reach the house,Cookwill be anxious to

servethefirstremove.”As the marchioness

spoke, David could feelLeah’s gaze fixed onhim. He looked to her,and she gave him acrooked smile, silentlymouthing the words,“Thankyou.”Unsure he had made

a wise choice inconcealingthetruth,hescowledbackather.He had a notion this

woman could beguilehim intoanynumberofunwise choices. Hisonlydefensemightbetokeep her from realizingit.

CHAPTERFIVELeah felt her heart

pounding, even afterLady Solebury hadturned away. ThankGod David hadn’t toldthe marchioness she’dcome to the spring onherown.Didthatmeanshe’dconvincedhimshedidn’t want to commitsuicide? Hopeful, shelooked to him and

mouthed an unvoiced“Thankyou.”He shot her such a

glare that she almostjumped back--as if thesmallesthintofgoodwillwould have cracked histoo-handsome face! Somuch for winning histrust. She shouldhaveknown Mr. Bitternesswouldn’t cut her anyslack.Disgusted, she spun

around and followedLady Solebury up thepath to themaindrive.She could hear Davidcrunching through thethicket behind her--andshesworeshecouldfeeltension pricklingbetweenthemlikestaticelectricity.Shecouldn’tcomprehend his moodswings. Only momentsago, he’d looked at herso tenderly her knees

hadgoneweak.The thought of how

his arms had feltaround her rechargedthedancing ionson thenape of her neck. Sheshuddered with acuteawareness of hisnearness. If shestoppedquicklyenough,would he run right intoherback?Ridiculous! Not only

had she gone back in

time, her mind hadrevertedtoadolescence.A peek over hershoulder gave her aglimpseofhiscontinuedscowl. She lookedforward again andwalked faster. Thisactually toppedadolescent fantasy forits absurdity. Themanwhohadhershudderinglike a schoolgirl hadthreatened to lock her

awayinanasylum!“Are you quite all

right, Miss Cantrell?”Lady Solebury asked asLeahcaughtupwithheron the drive. “Now,your cheeks areflushed.”“What? Oh, yes, I’m

fine.”Shetriedtobreakher thoughts free fromDavid Traymore’smagnetic pull. Hercontinual distraction

had already raisedsuspicions. From nowon,shehad to focusallherenergyonappearingnormal. “Seeing thespring again justunnervedme a little. Iguess I’ll need sometimebeforeIcanputmyaccidentbehindme.”“Have you

remembered anythingmore about whathappened?” the

marchionessasked.“Ofcourse,youmustn’t feelobliged to speak aboutthe ordeal if you don’twish. I don’t want togive you any furthercausefordistress.”“Mymemoryseems to

be returning, little bylittle,” Leah said,scouring her brain forsome story to concoct.Never a good liar, shehad to settle for

stalling. “I’ll tell youeverything I can whenwesitdowntodinner.”Lady Solebury’s

eyebrows rose justperceptibly.“Aslongasthe telling does notupsetyou...”Leah assured her

she’dmanagebutwhenDavid chose thatmoment to step upbesidethem,shesighedin relief. The

marchioness turned tohim, asking aboutconditions in the gatehouse. Meanwhile,Leah’s mind raced forbelievable answers tothequestionsshewouldface. Why had shecome to SoleburyHouse?Withwhomhadshe been traveling andtowhere?By the time they

reached themanor, she

knew she’d never comeup with a good story.Shewouldhavetostickas close to the truth aspossible--withoutrevealing she hadtraveledbackintime,ofcourse. Her stomachgnawed with hunger,but she dreaded thethought of sitting downto dinner. How longwould she have beforetheinquisitionstarted?

“Oh, good,” LadySoleburysaidwhentheyentered the drawingroom where Leah hadslept the night before.“Ourdinnercompanionshave arrived. Ben,Letitia, allow me topresent Miss LeahCantrell, a friend ofmine visiting fromAmerica. MissCantrell,LieutenantHarloweandhis wife, Mrs. Harlowe.

Thelieutenantfoughtinthe Peninsula with mylate father and Mr.Traymore. I suspecthewould like to return tothe Continent now thatBonaparte has escapedElba, but Mrs. Harlowewill hear nothing of thesort.”“How do you do?”

Leah dropped anuncertain curtsy to astocky, thin-hairedman

and a plainly dressed,thirty-somethingbrunette. The smilestheygaveherseemedtoindicate she’ddonewellenough. Themarchioness had beensweet to introduce herasafriend.“Lady Solebury will

haveyoubelievemywifeholds me on leadingstrings,” the lieutenantsaid, his sharp gray

eyes crinkling at thecorners when helaughed. “If so, I willnot be the one toconfessit.”Leah smiled in

response, as Mrs.Harlowe swatted herhusband on theshoulder.“You will have Miss

Cantrell think worse ofme!”“Ah,Harold,thereyou

are,” Lady Soleburysaid,lookingpastLeah’sshoulder toward thedoor.“Haveyougreetedthe Harlowes? Yes?Well, then, at last youwill have theopportunity tomeetourhouseguest, MissCantrell. MissCantrell,this is my husband,LordSolebury.”Leah turned around

and couldn’t stop

herself from staring.Dressed in elegantlyfittedblackformalwear,the marquess lookedexactly how shepicturedDavidwould inanother decade or so.The father’s maindistinctions from hissonwereaslightlyfullerbuild and sprinkles ofgray in his midnighthair. She rememberedDavid saying he didn’t

know how themarchioness had endedup with his father, butLeah understood. Withlooks, presence andpower inhis favor,LordSoleburyprobablycouldget any woman hewanted.She curtsied deeply,

smiling without havingtoremindherself.“Charmed,” he said,

his dark eyes twinkling

as he bowed. “We areso pleased to have youwith us, Miss Cantrell.Mywife is always eagerto entertain when westay in the country. Ihope your visit willendureforsometime.”“Thankyou,”shesaid,

charmedherself. Couldthis man really be themonsterDavidimplied?She glanced at the sonandfoundhimwatching

her.He switchedhis focus

to his father, lower lipcurling.He hates him, she

realized. Themarquessdidn’t acknowledge thefrown, but the spark inhis eyes dulled. Sheturnedaway,feelingsadfor them,LordSoleburybecause his own sonhated him, David

because his bitternesspoisoned his wholeoutlook.But why should she

care about a man whothreatened her withBedlam? A littlemoodiness was onething--what womandidn’t get dizzy on adose of Byroniccynicism? Butromanticismhadtostopsomewhere. Don Juan

wielded a cape, never astraitjacket.“Shall we move into

the dining room?” LadySolebury suggested,leadingthewayintothehall.“HowpleasedIamtohavesomanyguests!We have entertainedvery little in recentweeks,youknow.”She continued to

chatter,askingaftertheHarlowes’ children as

she showed everyonewhichseatstotake.Leah found herself

next toDavid,watchinga servant place soup infront of her. The herb-tinged steam made hermouth water, but shewaited for everyone elseto pick up their spoonsbefore she did. Whoknew what to expectfromnineteenth-centurymanners?

Potatoes and leeks,shedeterminedwithherfirst taste, letting thehearty broth loll on hertongue. Sheswallowed,and her stomachcontracted, demandingsomething moresubstantial. She’dhardly eaten in a dayandahalf.“Miss Cantrell,” Mrs.

Harlowe said, reachingfortherollonherbread

plate, “I hope you findour country to yourliking. May I inquirehowlongyou’vebeeninEngland?”Leah copied the other

woman’s manners,tearingaladylikechunkfromher own roll. Shewished she could havefinished at least onecourse before beingquestioned. “I’ve onlybeenhereafewdays.I

love what I’ve seen ofEngland so far, and Ican’twaittoseemoreofthecountry.”Instantly, she sensed

all eyes on her, threepairs more intent thantheothers.David took up the

questioning.“YouandIhavehadlittlechancetospeak, Miss Cantrell. Ihope your voyage fromthe States passed

smoothly--and that youhad pleasantcompanions to helpspeed your time aboardship?”Subtly phrased, but

every bit as probing asshe’d expected. Sheforced a smile, dabbingthe corners of hermouthwitha stiff linennapkin.“Unfortunately,I was seasick most ofthetrip.Ispentalotof

timealone inmy cabin,feeling too terrible tocare. My travelingcompanion, Jeanine, isan old friend butsometimes . . .impatient. I’m afraidthat being trapped inclose quarters with asickperson for, uh . . .weekstookatollonhernerves.”Shejammedapieceof

bread in her mouth

while the othersabsorbed theinformation.“Ifyouwillpardonmy

saying so, this Jeaninemust be rather a fair-weather friend,” LadySolebury said, herpregnancy-puffedbustline accented byobviousindignation.“Isshe the samecompanionwho leftyoustranded here in Kent?

Has your memoryimproved any in thatregard?”Across the table,Mrs.

Harlowe gasped. Leahignored the sound andnodded,lookingintohersoupbowl.Shecouldn’tsee any alternative butforpoorJeaninetotakethe brunt of the blameforherpredicament.“Yes. While Jeanine

andItraveledherefrom

London, I’m afraid hernervesworethinnerandthinner. Yousee, Iwascarsick--that is, Isuffered carriagesickness, too. I’m suchabad traveler! She gottired of my complaints,we argued and, well, Iactually ended upasking to be let out ofthe carriage. I felt sosick I couldn’t stand togoon.”

“And she left youbehind while shetraveled on?” LadySolebury threw hernapkin down on thetable.“Abominable!”“Yes, well, I should

haveknownbetter thantotravelwithher inthefirst place. We’ve haddisagreements in thepast.”LeahstoleapeekatDavidandfoundhimwatching her through

narrowed eyes. Sheguessed he didn’tbelieveherbutmeanttohearoutherstory.“Shewas the only person Iknow who could affordto accompany me toEurope.Iwantedtoseethe land where myancestors lived. I havesomeEnglishblood.”“Howdidyouwindup

at the spring?” Davidasked.

Hewould refuseto letthe conversation moveaway from that topic.Sheresistedtheurgetofrown. “After Jeaninedroveaway,Iwalkedupthe nearest drive,looking for a place torest. Along the way, Ifound the spring andthoughtadrinkofwatermight help settle mystomach. But when Ileaned over the pool I

got dizzy. I guess Ifainted, because thenext thing Iknew Iwasstruggling in the water,too disoriented to pullmyselfoutofthepool.”“Good Lord!” Mrs.

Harlowe exclaimed.“What a fortunatecoincidence that youhad wandered onto theestate of a friend. Whoknowswhatmight havebefallen an

unaccompanied youngwomanleftaloneandillamidststrangers?”“Indeed,” Lady

Solebury said quickly.“I don’t like even tocontemplate thepossibilities.And,truly,let’s not distress MissCantrell with furtherdiscussion of heraccident. We are justglad you are safelyinstalledwithusnow.”

“Thank you,” Leahmurmured, gladlytaking up her soupspoonagain.The marchioness

picked hers up, too,looking toward theopposite side of thetable. “Tell me, Ben,what is the latest newsofBonaparte’sdoings?Icannot tell you hownervous I’ve been sincehis escape from Elba.

EveryonesaysthatifheinvadesEngland,hewillno doubt choose Kentforhispointofentry.”“Phoebe,dear,suchis

hardly a more pleasanttopic of conversationthan the last,” themarquess interrupted.“Shouldwenotfixuponalessserioussubject?”“Inamoment,Harold,

but first I insist onhearing the lieutenant’s

views. Why, ourneighbors all speak ofdigging out priest’sholes for hidingthemselves and theirvaluables, in the eventof an attack. What doyouthink,Ben?ShouldHarold and I stow ourpossessionsawaynow?”The lieutenant sat

back, pushing awayhisempty bowl. “Well,Boney has been biding

his time in the area ofParis forseveralweeks.Sincehehasnotmovedone way or another, wehave no notion whatdirection he might takewhenhedoes.”Leah scooped up the

last drops of her soup,listening with interest.Her father made ahobby of Westernhistory--had wanted, infact,toteachthesubject

at one time, before theunexpected conceptionofhisonlychildcuthiscollegedaysshort. Sheknewenoughfromwhathe’d taught her torealize she had landedinEnglandsmackinthemiddle of Napoleon’sHundred Dayscampaign.“You don’t offer me

much comfort, Ben.”The marchioness

blinked unseeingly atthe deliciouslypresented plate of lambaservantset in frontofher. “Have you noinside intelligence youcanshare?”“Phoebe, there is no

reason to believeBonaparteisheadedourway,” David said,reaching across thetable to place his handover hers. “In your

condition, you mustn’twork yourself up.Wellington is a capableleaderandwilldoallhecan to keep Englandsafe.”Herladyshiplookedso

upsetthatLeahwinced.Ifonlyshecouldtellherthe “inside intelligence”she had--that Napoleonwould never invadeEngland. He’d berecaptured for good

within the next fewmonths.“Really,my lady,” she

said, “I’m sure David’sright. Consider howslowly Napoleon’s beenmoving since heescaped,meanderingupthrough the south ofFrance and dallying inParisforweeks.Atthatkind of pace, he won’tgetanywhere.Ibethe’llnever evenmake it into

Holland.”She hadn’t been able

to resist throwing in aclue to the location ofNapoleon’s ultimatedefeat, and she grinnedathersecretjoke.The marchioness

smiledback, touchingafinger to the corner ofeachofher eyes. “Howkind you are, MissCantrell. You nearlyhavemeconvinced--you

speak with suchconviction.”“Yes, you do,”

Lieutenant Harlowesaid,hisgrayeyes fixedonher.“MayIaskwhyyoumentionedHolland,MissCantrell?”“It just came to

mind.” She picked upher fork, pleased thatshe had helped calmLadySolebury.“Iamsurprisedtofind

you so well informed ofNapoleon’s activities,”the lieutenant added.“Young ladies generallytakelittleinterestinthedetailsofwar.”She paused, fork in

midair, privatelyreminding herself tostick as close to thetruth as possible. “Myfather studies Napoleonas a hobby. I’ve heardfarmoreabouttheman

thanIcaretoeventhinkabout.”“But surely you

haven’tseenyourfatherinatleastamonth?Atthat time, Bonapartehad not yet reachedParis.”Her mouth dropped

open. “Why, of coursenot. I suppose now I’llhave to confess to anunladylike interest inwar. Some of my

father’s fascination hasworn off on me, and Iread thepapers tokeepon top of the news.Sometimes, that is. Idefinitely can’t claim athorough knowledge ofcurrentevents.”The marquess

laughed, relieving someof the tension Leahsensed building. “Ishould think not.Meeting a young lady

who reads somethingother than novels, thesocial column and LaBelle Assemblée isunusual enough. Onedoes not run acrossmanybluestockings in

Kent.”“No,” Lieutenant

Harlowesaid,thoughhedidn’t laugh. “Nor arewe often up-to-date in

reading the LondonGazette. Perhaps youknow more aboutBonaparte’s latestmovesthanwedo,MissCantrell.Whydon’tyougiveusareport?”She swallowed a

mouthful of lamb andpurposely widened hereyes. “I’mafraidIdon’tknow any more thanwhat we’ve already

said. He’s holed up intheParisarea.”“I think we might

move onto anothersubject,” David noted,for once choosing acourseLeahliked.“Herladyship cannot beentertained with thislineofconversation.”They all looked at the

marchioness, whopoked at her food,clearly without any

appetite.“War talk does

discomfitme,”shesaid.“I cannot stop thinkingabout an invasion onKent.”“I am sureWellington

will defeatBoney beforehe can even think ofinvadingKent,mydear,”the marquess said,serious again. “But Icanlookintodiggingouta priest’s hole for us, if

the act would lend youanycomfort.”“I believe it might.”

Shelookedup,scanningall the facesaroundthetable. “Please forgiveme. How maudlin youmustthinkIam!Letusreturn to our dinner.Miss Cantrell, will youpassthesalt,please?”Leah reached for the

crystal saltcellar at thesame time David did.

She pulled back, andhis gaze followed themovement of her handintoherlap.He passed the

container to LadySolebury and turnedback to Leah. “Pardonme, Miss Cantrell. Icould not help noticingthat you wear adiamond. Are youbetrothed?”She lifted her hand

and looked at herfingers, shocked torealize she hadn’tthought of the ring orthe giver since she’darrived in the past.Even during her brushwith death, Kevin’s facehadn’tcometoher,onlythose of her parents.Thismusthavebeenthelongest stretch of timeinyearsthatshe’dgonewithout thinking of

Kevin.“Miss Cantrell?”

Davidsatwaitingforananswer.“No, I’mnotengaged,”

she murmured, movingher hand back into herlap. “This is afriendshipring.”“Here in England,”

Lady Solebury said,“such rings are usuallywoven from a lock ofhair. Exchanging gold

rings with stones mustbe an Americancustom. Is that indeeda diamond, MissCantrell?”“Only a chip,” she

said,preoccupiedbyherthoughts. How couldshe forget Kevin? Notthathewas likely tobethinking much abouther. He’d just brokenup with her, after all--but she’d been sure

they’dgetback togetheragain. Now, theymightnever see each otheragain.Shebarelynoticedthe

homemade peach icecream served fordessert, thougheveryone else made afuss about it. She felttoomuch guilt to enjoyanything. Whatkindofwoman forgot about athree-year relationship

in the middle of a lifecrisis? How could shepossibly have passedmore than a full daywithout longing for thecomfortofKevin’sarms?“Are you feeling

unwell again?” a softmale voice beside herasked, and she lookedinto David’s black eyeswith a start. “You’vebarely touched yourice.”

His tone alone senther heart racing, andshe realized the answerto her question lookedher right in the face.Shehatedherselfforherown shallowness, butthe fact was that DavidTraymore’s presencehadchasedallthoughtsofKevinoutofherhead.She gave her Byronic

rescuer an unsteadysmile. “I’m still not

quite sure of myself. Ithink I’d best takethings slowly forawhile.”What an

understatement, shethought, as she finallydippedintoherdessert.In this bizarre paralleluniverse,everystepshetook seemed to put heron more dangerousfooting.

CHAPTERSIX“ThankgoodnessMiss

Cantrell has begun toopen up,” Phoebe saidto David. She lookedacross the drawingroom, where the youngwoman sat with LordSolebury and theHarlowes.“Still,Ifancythere is more to herstory than she willinglyadmits.”

“Unquestionably.” Hewatched Leah (he couldonlythinkofherbyhergivennamenow)asshelaughed at somethinghis father said. Hereyes sparkled, andSolebury grinned back,clearly entranced.David rolled his owneyes and forced hisattention to Phoebe.“You, too, noticed theflawinherstory?”

“The flaw?” Her gazedarted to his. “Why,no.Ionlyobservedthatshe spoke in a haltingmanner. What did shesay that you foundamiss?”“She failed to explain

a rather importantpoint. According toherstory, she fell into thespring while trying toget a drink, butwhen Ifound her she was

wearing only a shift. Idon’t know of manyyoung ladies who travelin such a state ofdeshabille,doyou?”“Oh, David, I forgot

aboutthat.”Phoebeputa hand up over hermouth. “Good Lord,there is only oneconclusiontodraw.Shemust have beenravished. The thought

is too dreadful, but itwould explaineverything--herdisoriented state ofmind, the fact that wecouldnotfindtherestofher clothing near thespring . . . even themotivebehindheractofdesperation.Oh,David,thatpoor,poorgirl!”“I don’t know,

Phoebe.” He swallowedthe sick lump that rose

in his throat, eventhought he’d alreadyconsidered the samepossibility. “Shesufferednobruises,andhershifthadnotevenarent.Ithinkthatsortofa struggle would leavemorephysicalevidence.”“Perhaps.” The

marchioness lookedacross the room again,studying Leah for amoment.“Yes,youmay

be right. I pray youare. A victim ofravishment would likelybemoredevastatedthanMiss Cantrell appears,wouldshenot?”Davidlethisgazedrift

in the same direction.Leah now spoke withMrs. Harlowe, leaningforward to examine alocketthewomanwore.Shesaidsomething,andboth of them smiled

broadly. He had to beright. But what onearth did the true storyinvolve?Whileheponderedthe

mystery,LieutenantandMrs. Harlowe rose andannounced their intentto leave. As Phoebepressed the lady tostaythe night, the husbandwalked over to whereDavidstood, apart from the

others.“Might I have a word

with you?” he asked.“Inprivate.”“Of course.” Curious,

David led him into thehall. “Is this privateenough, or shall we gointothelibrary?”“This will do.” The

lieutenant glanced backinto the drawing room,where the rest of theparty remained talking.

HeturnedbacktoDavidbut focusedhis eyes onthe floor. “I am notquite sure how tobroachthissubject.”“You had best broach

it quickly,” David said,made uneasy by hisfriend’s manner. “Theothers are not farbehind.”Harlowe nodded, gaze

still averted. “Prayforgive me, but I must

ask how well themarchioness knowsMiss Cantrell. Theyoung lady mentionedthis is her first visit toEngland, so I gathertheir past acquaintancewas limited tocorrespondence. Canyou tell me any moreaboutthefriendship?”He frowned, reluctant

to share what little heknew about Leah. She

undoubtedly neededprotection fromsomething,anduntilheknew from what orwhom, he could notallow speculation abouthertospread. “Whydoyouinquire?”Harlowerubbedoneof

his pork-chopsideburns,againpeeringtoward the rest of theparty, who had not yetmoved. “I realize I

appeartobeprying,andI apologize, but I wouldnotdo sounless I felt Ihad cause.” Finally,helookedDavidintheeye.“Do you recall MissCantrell’s remarks overdinner aboutBonaparte’s trailthroughFrance?”“Ido.”Facemusclestaut,the

lieutenant lowered hisvoicetoawhisper.“And

what she said aboutBoney being defeatedbefore he can takeHolland?”“Yes.” David had no

conception where themanwasleading.“Well,Ishouldnottell

you this, Traymore, butI am confident you,aboveallpeople,canbetrusted.” He wet hislips. “There are top-secret intelligence

reports that indicateBonaparte’s militaryplans do indeed lie inthat direction. No one,butnoone,knowsthis.. . exceptMissCantrell,apparently.”Inspiteof--orperhaps

due to--his friend’sgravity, David laughed.“Oh, Ben, mystepmother’s hysteriamusthaverubbedoffonyou tonight. Miss

Cantrell’s insight issurely no more than aluckyguess.”Harlowe shook his

head. “Normally, Iwouldagree,butIswearI saw a glint ofamusement in her eyeswhen she made thecomment--this whileeveryone else in theroom fairly ached withsympathy for LadySolebury.Ithoughther

behavior very odd,Traymore.”Thisobservationmade

himthink.He,too,hadseen the wry smileaccompanying Leah’sprediction. At the time,hehadshruggedoffherlittlegrin,butthetimingof it definitelyhadbeenstrange.“Doyouaccuseherof

beingaFrenchspy?”heasked.

“No. That is, I don’tknow. Odds are thatshe is a perfectlyordinary,amiableyounglady,andthelastthingIwant to do is insultLadySoleburywithwildconjectures about herfriend. But I cannothelpnotingthatthegirlisAmerican;shehasnoreason to feel loyalty tothe Crown. If she andthemarchionessarenot

well acquainted--and Ibelievethisisthecase--Ithinkyoumaydowelltokeepaneyeonher.”David had to admit,

ridiculous as thelieutenant’s notionseemed, that this latesttheory had about asmuch validity as anyother explanation forLeah Cantrell’spresence. Suicide,insanity, rape,

espionage . . . whatwould be the nextextreme attributed tothiswoman’slife?Harlowe awaited his

response, but he hadlittledesiretoofferany.Heshuffledhis feetandshrugged.The lieutenant gave

him a stiff smile, likelytrying to lighten theawkwardness that haddescended on them.

“You must agree thatwatching her couldafford your eyes nostrain. The chit is notdifficulttolookat.”David only raised an

eyebrow.Hisold friendsighed.

“In trying to spareLadySolebury’sfeelings,IseeI have insulted you.Again, I apologize forwhat I acknowledge isovercaution. Military

circumspection dieshard. But I wish youwouldat least tellme ifyou plan to stay on atSolebury House whilesheishere.”He pursed his lips,

half offended for Leah’ssake, half disturbed bythe possibility theoutlandish allegationcould be true. Hewanted to begrudgeHarlowe an answer,

wishing the man hadnever brought hisconjectureto light. Butsuch an anticwould bechildish.“I’ll be at the gate

house for the timebeing,” he said,enlightening himself aswellasHarlowe.“Idon’tforesee leavingany timesoon.”“Then I have every

faiththatallwillbewell

here.” The lieutenantswept him a bow.“Tonight has been apleasure. I hope youwill excuse all I havesaid,aswellaskeepmythoughts to yourself. Ishould notwant to addto Lady Solebury’sworriesaboutthewar.”David nodded,

stepping away as therest of the party at lastmade theirway into the

hall. While the othersexchanged good-byes,he watched Leahsmiling and offeringpleasantries.Could shepossiblybe

aFrenchspy?Ifso,shewould uncover noinformation at SoleburyHouse. But perhapsshe only meant toestablish herself amonga prominent family andwork her way into

society.Situatedwithinthe local circle, shecould glean details ofhow Kentish estatesprepared for invasion.So she would indeedhave intelligence togain. Hewouldhavetowatch her even morecarefully thanpreviouslyplanned.Gazestillfixedonher,

he twisted his mouth.Eversincehehadpulled

her out of that damnedspring, she hadcommandeered histhoughts,influencedhisdecisions. Why,ameretwodaysagohecouldn’thave imagined anythinginducinghimtostayonhisfather’s estate. Now,

hehadjusttoldHarlowehe would be hereindefinitely. LeahCantrell had too much

leverage on him. Hewouldhavetogettothebottom of her storybefore she wasted anymore of his time andenergy.When the Harlowes’

carriage had started upthedrive,Phoebeclosedthe door and leanedbackagainstit.“Phew!Iamexhausted.IfearImay have to retiresoon.”

“You deserve a goodnight’srestaftersuchaconscientious job ofhostessing,” themarquess said, puttingan arm around hershoulders.Not to mention all the

other tumult she hasfaced, David thought.Suddenly, he realizedthat if Phoebe retired,he might be able to

question Leah moreclosely than themarchioness wouldallow.“Why don’t you go

upstairs now?” hesuggested. “I’ll behappy to entertainMissCantrell.”She smiled at him.

“Somehow, I thought Imight count on you.ButbeforeIgoupstairs,I need to ask you

something. I saw Bendraw you aside beforehe left. I know I oughtnot intrude on apersonalconfidence,butI have an inkling yourdiscussion had to dowith Bonaparte. Ishould like to know if Iamcorrect.”Hisjawwentslackfor

an instant before herecalled himself. “Why,of course not, Phoebe.

You will drive yourselfmad with all theseunwarrantedfears.”“You never were a

good liar, David. If weare in danger, I have aright to know.” Sheplaced a hand on herprotruding belly. “Ihaveanunbornchildtoprotect. I have a largeestate to help defend.Now what did Ben tellyou? I don’t care

whethertheinformationisclassifiedornot.”Solebury turned his

wife toward him,wrapping both armsaroundher.“Now,now,love, all this anxietycannotdo thebabyanygood.Pleasetrytocalmyourself . . . for yoursakeandthechild’s.”The appeal to

maternalinstinctprovedan effective approach.

Phoebe leaned into hisbody, closing her eyesandbreathingslowly.“If you’ll pardon my

interrupting, my lady,”Leah said, her tonegentle, “I, personally,have total confidenceNapoleon will neverinvade England. Afterbeing defeated once,only think what a hardtimehemustbehavinggetting soldiers

together. Ships willprobablybeevenharderto comeby. He’ll neverregain enough power tolaunch an attack bysea.”David stared at her.

Shesoundedmorelikeamilitary strategist thana civilian woman.Unfortunately,Harlowe’s spy theorylooked that much morecreditable.

“Youhaveagooddealof sense, MissCantrell.” Phoebeopened her eyes andstood straighter, stillencircled by herhusband’s arms. Shelooked to David. “I amsorry for asking you tobetray Ben’sconfidence. With thisbabycoming,IfearIamrather more emotionalthanusual.”

“I am the one whoshould apologize.” Hefelt terrible forheightening her fearswithhisplainattemptatlying. “I can tell youthismuch,Phoebe.PartofwhatBentoldmewasthatheknewno reasontoexpectaninvasiononKent. In that, I amspeakingthetruth.”Hereyessearchedhis,

then she nodded. “I

knowyouare.”Solebury bent and

kissed the top of herhead. “Will you be allrightnow,love?”“Quite. But I must

confess I’m growingeager for myconfinement. No doubtI shall feel more myselfagainoncethebabyhascome.”“No doubt,” he said.

“Now,whydon’tweboth

retire? Youhavehadaverylongday.”“Ishall,butyoumust

feel free to stay up,Harold. You andDavidwill enjoy MissCantrell’scompany.”Davidsawyetabetter

chance to quiz Leah.“Actually, Ihadthoughtto ask Miss Cantrell tojoinmeforawalkinthegardens.Alovelyspringevening should not be

wastedindoors.”Leah shot him a

surprisedlook.Phoebe shook her

head. “David, MissCantrell won’t want towalk out alone at nightwithamanshescarcelyknows.” She turned toLeah.“Ofcourse,ifyouareinclinedtowalk,mydear, I can assure youmy stepson is a perfectgentleman--in that

respect, anyway. Butyour reluctance isentirelyunderstandable.Admirably prudent, infact.”Leahglancedfromthe

marchioness to Davidand back again. “No, Itrust David--in thatrespect.” She smiled.“And the fresh air willdomegood.I’llgo.”“You’re not tired?”

Phoebe asked.“Between your accidentand my laudanum, youhave suffered quite atrial.”“On the contrary, I’m

wide awake. I slept solate today that the lastthing I want to do isclosemy eyes again. Abrisk walk may be justwhat I need to use upsomeofthisenergy.”“Verywell,then.”She

looked to Solebury.“Will you join them,love, or do you havesomething else tooccupyyou?”“I have the estate

accountstoreview,butIshan’t be long. OnceDavidhasbroughtMissCantrell safely back tothehouse,Ishallretire,too.”“Wonderful.” She

turned back to the

others. “If you needanything when youreturn,theservantswillaccommodateyou.And,Miss Cantrell, dear, ifyou should ever wantme--for any reason atall--don’t hesitate tohave Molly summonme. Goodnight to bothofyou.”She kissed Solebury

onthecheekandbegana slow ascent of the

stairs. David watchedher progresswith a tugof compassion. At thislate stage of herpregnancy, she could illafford a mysterioushouseguest and a headfull of worries aboutwar. If he could doanything at all to help,he would be happy tostayatthegatehouse.HeturnedtoLeahand

offered her his elbow.

She smiled and curledher hand around hisarm. The pressure ofher fingers through hisshirt set his skin totingling. Foolishness.He reminded himselfthiswalkhadnothingtodowithpleasure.“Don’t be long,”

Solebury said, his eyesnarrowing as hescanned David’s face.

“Remember that MissCantrell is recoveringfrom a difficultexperience.”He met his father’s

gaze squarely. “Youhave no need to worry,mylord.”The marquess

nodded. “Enjoy theeveningthen.”Leah thanked him,

and they steppedoutside into a mild

night. Solebury waiteduntil they haddescended from theportico before he closedthe door, shutting outthe light from the hallchandelier. Withoutspeaking, they startedup the moonlit drive,attendedbyachorusofcrickets and countlesstwinklingstars.After a long moment,

David heard a soft sigh

fromher.“Thisisbeautiful,”she

said, “like being in afairytale.”He could not think

how to respond,incapable of disagreeingand unwilling toconcur. The splendidevening made an unfitbackdrop for aninterrogation. How onearthshouldhebegin?She adjusted her

grasp on his arm,nestlingalittlecloserinthe process. Her bodyfelt warm and snugagainsthisside,andthescent of rosewatergrazedhisnostrils.“When you suggested

walking,” she said, “Ididn’t realize you’d hadastrokeofgenius.”He had thought so,

but now his intellect

failed him entirely. Nosensiblecommentwouldcometohim.She giggled. “Maybe

some magical spritewhisked the idea intoyourhead.Ineverusedtobelieveinmagic...”Her voice trailed off

with her last words, asthough she had driftedintothought.Helookedatherandsawthatshestared at the sky, her

expressionnowsober.“Do you believe in

magic now?” he asked,immediately deploringthe pointless inquiry.He had so manyimportantquestions,yethewouldwastehistimewithnonsense.“Yes.” Shepulledher

gaze down from theheavensandgavehimasoft smile, the sort of

smilethathadkeptmenspeculating about theMona Lisa forcenturies.“And,forthemoment, I’m not evenafraidofit.ThemagicIfeel right now is toobeautifultofear.”Too beautiful to fear.

Hestaredintoherstarliteyes and felt theweightof thosewords, even ashe chided himself for

melodrama. He had tobegin his questioning,before this encountertookonalltheaspectofa romantic tryst ratherthan an investigation.But where should hestart?A light breeze blew,

wafting the scent oftulips over from LadySolebury’s privategarden.Leahclosedhereyes, breathing in the

fragrancewithasmile.Hesquelchedtheurge

to lean over and kissher, forcing himself tothink of Frenchespionage.ShecouldbeaFrenchspy.Hehadtoask her . . . ask hersomething!“Parlez vous

francais?” The wordsemerged withoutforethought,butatleast

he had posed aquestion.She laughed, a light

chuckle that echoedquietly in the trees. “Ihave to wonder whyyou’re speaking French,David, but maybe anightlikethiscallsforaromance language.Let’s see. Give me aminute to rememberwhatlittleIknow.”While he stared at

her, she looked up atthe sky, then back intohis eyes. “Okay, toanswer your question:Enpeu,monsieur.Wait,more is coming to me.Je m’apelle Leah. Jesuis americaine.Commentallezvous?”She had the worst

accent imaginable,pronouncingherFrenchwords even more flatly

than her English. Ofcourse, he had provednothinginthisexercise.She could be feigningher ineptitude. Or shemight evencommunicate to theFrench in her ownpeculiarly blandEnglish.“Youhaven’tanswered

myquestion,monsieur,”she said, grinning at

him. “Comment allezvous?”He gazed down into

her face. In themoonlight, her skinlooked just like cream,spilling down her lovelycheekbones, over herslim neck and into theexpanseofherbosom.“David, you started

this game. Now youhavetotellmehowyou

are. And on thisgorgeous night, I defyyou to answer anythingbut ‘Tres bien.’ Now,comeon.”Shetiltedherhead sideways.“Commentallezvous?”Her eyes glittered like

the stars in the clearsky above. The sweet,lopsidedwayshesmiledathimrenderedhersillyrequestirresistible.

“Tres bien,mademoiselle,” hewhispered.“Ah,oui! Youaretres

bien, David.” Shegrinned wide, revealinga pearly set of perfectlyeven teeth. “Tres, tresbien.”They eyed each other

for a long moment,David increasinglyawareoftheheatofher

body against his.Taking a deep breath,he shifted slightlyaside.Sheloosenedhergrip to allow hismovement, letting herfingers slide down hisarm. Somehow, theyendedinholdinghands.Herfingersfeltslender

andwarm,andheliftedthem, his dazed mindfocused on kissing herhand, if not her lips.

But thesuddensightofherringhaltedhim.Helookedbackupintohereyes, unconsciouslytwisting the gold bandaroundherfinger.She dropped her gaze

to their clasped hands,and her smile faded.With a brief glance athis face, she lookedaway, staring at thepathahead.The muscles in his

midsection tightened.Obviously, the ring hadmore significance thanshehadindicated. Andwhy should thatsurprisehim? Had shebeen candid aboutanythingwhatsoever?“I think maybe we

should return to thehouse,” she said,extracting her fingersfrom his. Shetransferred them back

uptohisupperarm,hertouch light and cool.“Lord Solebury willwonder what’shappenedtous.”He acquiesced

silently, turning backwithhertoretracetheirsteps.Witheachstride,his chance tointerrogate her slippedfurther away, but onlyone question loomed ishis mind--and the

subject had nothing todowithespionage.“Your friendship ring

is from a male friend.”The question, in fact,came out more as astatement.She hesitated only

briefly.“Yes.”“And you share more

than mere friendshipwithhim?”This time the paused

lastedlonger.“Wedid.”Did. Implying the

relationshiphadended--but she still wore thering. Not that anyof itmattered! He shouldhave abandoned thesubjectandmovedontosomething moreimportant--but at themoment, nothing feltmore important. “Didyou and he talk of

marrying?”She shruggedand,he

noted,failedtomeethisgaze. “The topic cameup, but we never gotnearthepointofmakingplans.AsIsaidearlier,he gave me the ring infriendship.”An odd sort of

friendship, he reflected,his guts now sour--hemust have eaten toomuch rich food at the

manor. Despite thediscomfort in hisabdomen,he fanciedhecouldfeelthecoldmetalof her gold bandthrough his sleeve,where her fingersrested. And now morequestions--inappropriatequestions--erupted fromhimasoftheirownwill.“Do you still think of

marryinghim?”

She shook her head.“Heisveryfaraway.”“Andifhewerehere?”“Here?” The idea

seemed to affect heroddly, as though shehad never consideredsuch a prospect. Shebit her lip, glanced athim, and faced forwardagain. “Actually, if hewere here now, I don’tbelieve marrying himwouldbeonmymindat

all.”They had reached the

front of themanor, andshe let go of his arm,leading the way up thesteps.“Thank you for a

lovelywalk.”Shesmiledbut not so naturally asshe had earlier. “Will Iseeyoutomorrow?”“Youwill.”Hethought

of her earlier return tothe scene of her

accident and added,“Remember, youpromised not to go tothespringonyourown.”“I remember.” She

held his gaze. “You’rekind to worry aboutme.”He stared at her a

moment longer,searching his mind onelast time for a questionpertinent to espionage.Instead, her safety

occupied his everythought.“If you find you want

tofacethespringagain,tellmeand I’ll takeyoutheremyself.Ifyoufeelyou must leap into thewater, then I shall leapinwithyou.”Her eyebrows drew

together, and hethought he saw her lipquiver. “You’re . . .brave.”

He snorted. “I’m notlikely to fear a few feetofwater.”She looked up the

dark drive, toward thewoods surrounding thespring. “Are you afraidoftheunknown?”“The unknown? You,

forexample?”Shegavenoanswer.“My greatest fears are

based in the evils Iknow,” he said, hoping

to prime her candorwith some of his own.“The unknown at leastoffers the possibility ofgood,aswellasevil.”She shivered,hugging

herself to rub her ownarms. “It offerssomething.”“Certainlytoomuchto

throwaway.”“Yes.” She nodded,

finally looking back to

his face. “Don’t worryabout that. I wouldn’tthrowawayanyofthis.Goodnight,David.”She gavehimanother

small smile anddisappearedthroughthedoor, leaving him towonder what on earththeir obscure exchangehadtrulymeant.Hesighedandstarted

off for the gate house.So much for his

interrogation. Relevantquestionswouldhavetowaitforanothertime.

CHAPTERSEVENStartled awake in a

coldsweat,Leahsatupinbed. Shecouldhavesworn she’d heardsomeonescream--orhadit been her own mindcrying out for help?Nowsheheardonly thesound of birds chirpingoutside the window.Theorangeglowofdawnlent a cheerful peachy

tint to the yellowwallpaper.Amuffledmoan came

fromsomewhereoutsidethe closed door to thehall.Someone had cried

out.She kicked off the

covers and scrambledout of bed. Without athoughtfortherobethemarchioness had lent

her, she dashed out ofthe room in hernightgown. The soundof someone snifflingtraveledupthehallway,and she hurried towardthesource,herbarefeetpaddingonthecarpet.When she rounded a

turn,shenearlyranintoLady Solebury’s maid.The girl slumped on asparse wooden chair inthehall,tearsstreaming

down her reddenedcheeks.“What’s wrong,

Molly?” Leah stoopeddown beside her,placingonehandonherarm. “Is theresomethingIcando?”“Oh,Miss, I wish you

might! Alas, mymistress has gone intolabor, and the babe iscoming too early.” Shepulled a big white

handkerchief out of herapron pocket and blewher nose, noddingtowardadooracrossthehall. “Themidwife is intherenow. Shewantedme to go downstairswith his lordship andMr. Traymore, but Ireckonedmyladymightwantme.”Leah looked at the

closed door and,betweenMolly’s sniffles,

heard quiet voicescoming from the room.She distinguished twowomen, speaking intones that soundedcalm.“Are you sure the

marchioness is inlabor?” she asked themaid. “Has she criedoutinpain?”“Shewascryingbefore

the midwife came,”Molly said, “though

she’s settled downsince. Mayhap Mrs.Carson gave her apotiontosootheher.”Leah frowned,

wondering how a“potion”mightaffecttheunbornchild.Givenherown recent experience,she hoped themarchioness hadn’ttakenlaudanum.The door opened, and

a woman who could

have been Mrs. SantaClaus came into thehall. Her pure whitehairformedaneatbun,and clusters of crinklesaroundhereyesshowedthat she spent a lot ofherlifesmiling.“IamHarrietCarson,”

she said to Leah, whileMolly pushed past herto get into the room,“themidwife.Areyouarelativeofherladyship?”

“A houseguest. MynameisLeahCantrell.”She bobbed a briefcurtsy. “Is themarchionessinlabor?”Mrs. Carson curtsied

in return, shaking hersnowy head. “Falsealarm.Myladysufferedafewpangsofpain,butthey seem to havepassed. I reckon she’llcarry full term,providing she keeps to

her bed. If you are afriend to her, you’ll seethatshestaysput.”“I’ll do anything I

can.”“For themoment, you

can go in and sit withher, while I coax thatsilly maid into fetchingthe marquess.” Sheglancedbacktowardthebed, where Mollykneeled beside LadySolebury. “If the girl

stays here, she’ll onlyworkherladyshipintoastate. I’ll have a longtalk with her before Ileave, but I’m glad themarchioness has asensible friend like youto counter that frettingmaid.”She walked back into

the bedroom, but Leahpaused in the doorway,reluctanttointrude.Propped against a

mound of pillows, LadySolebury murmured agreeting as the midwifereturned to her. Whenshe noticed Leah, shestretched her neck togive her a faint smile.“Miss Cantrell, I amsorry to have disturbedyoursleep. Docome infor a moment, so I canassureyoualliswell.”“You haven’t

disturbedme,mylady.”

Leah stepped up to thebed, still feelinguncomfortable. “I’monly glad tohear you’renotindanger.”The marchioness bit

her lip. “I daresay Ihave let my nerves getthebestofme.IfonlyIcantempermyconcernsaboutthewar,Ishallbeperfectly fine. Mrs.CarsonhasinsistedthatI keep to my bed,

however.”“A good idea, my

lady.” Leah glancedtowardthemidwife,whospoke in low tones tothe anxious maid whileshemaneuveredthegirlinto the hallway. “Sheseems a very sensiblewoman.”“Indeed, she is the

best midwife in thecounty. I only wish Icouldhaveremainedon

my feet a little longer.”Her ladyship sighed. “Imeant to make myroundswiththetenantstoday. Every week orso, I bring the lessfortunate ones basketsof fruitandbread. Thegesture is small, but Ilike to think thechildrenbenefitfromit.”“I’msuretheydo.”“IsupposeIshallhave

to send Molly in my

stead,butIfearshewillmakeamullof it.”Sheshook her head. “Icannot do without thegirl, but whenever asituationhastheairofacrisis, she falls topieces. She will worryaboutmeceaselesslyforthenextfewweeks.”“I’d be happy to take

care of the baskets,mylady,” Leah said. Theidea of knocking at

strangers’ doors in aforeign country and aforeign time intimidatedher, but the gifts she’dbe bearing wouldprobablywinheragoodreception. “I’d like tomake myself as usefulas possible while I’mstayingwithyou.”“Would you truly not

mind?”LadySolebury’sshoulders relaxedvisibly, and Leah

thought she saw colorseep back into hercheeks. “Howkind youare, Miss Cantrell. Iloathe to charge youwith such a time-consuming task, but Ibelieve the goods areimportant to the littleones.”Leah waved off her

thanks. “Consider thebaskets delivered. IsthereanythingelseIcan

dotohelp?”“Seeing the tenants

will be quite enough fornow. I wonder if Ishould send Mollyalong, or if she wouldonly prove a hindrancetoyou.”“Send Molly along

where?” a man’s voiceaskedbehindLeah.She whirled around

andfacedthemarquess,his son behind him,

remaining at the door.David’s gaze capturedhers briefly and sweptdownherbodybeforehequicklylookedaway.His glance reminded

hersheshouldhaveputon a robe, though herlong muslin nightgowndidn’t divulge much.David looked like he’dalso rushed out of bed,his sleep-puffed face alittle more vulnerable

than usual. His sootyhairwastousledandhiswhiteshirtonlyhalfwaybuttoned, revealing ahintofwelltonedchest.Her thoughts flew totheir late-night walk--how intimate the moodhad gotten before thesightofKevin’sringhadcomebetweenthem.Duringthenightshe’d

hadaweirddream that

the two of them werearguingaboutherring--Kevintellinghertowearit, David urging her tothrowitthespring.She peeked at David

and caught his eye.Embarrassed, shedragged her attentionbacktowardthebed.Lord Solebury had

gone to his wife’s sideand taken her hand.“You ought not even

think about householdmatters, my love--though I confess thatrightnowanyplan thatwilltakeMollyoutofthewaysoundswisetome.”Shesmiledupathim.

“Miss Cantrell has verykindly offered to deliverthe tenant baskets forme, and I feel a gooddeal better knowing thejob will get done. ButI’m not convinced I

shouldsendMollyalongin her current state.The coachman knowswhich tenants I usuallyvisit.HecanguideMissCantrell to the rightcottages.”“I’ll go with Miss

Cantrell,” David said,crossing the thresholdtojointhem.Hismouthformed a grim line, andhis tone was firm.“Have Molly help the

housekeepertoday.”Leah lookedathim in

surprise, wonderingabout his motives.Normally, she mighthavebelievedhe offeredout of politeness orsimply to be with her,but his grimace seemedto rule out both. Hemust have stillconsidered her undersuicide watch, and hedidn’t look too happy

about having to guardher.Hedidn’tseemtomind

beingwithmelastnight,she thought, botheredby the change in him.She wanted their walkback again, with himholding her hand andspeaking soft French inthe dark. The memorysent a shiver down herspine.

How ridiculous couldshebe?“You’ve taken up an

interestinhelpingthosein need?” themarquessaskedDavid,curlinghislip in a mannerreminiscent of theyoungerman.Heslidaquick glance at Leah,then back to his son,who glared at himwithoutcomment.“David has always

shown a benevolentcharacter,” LadySolebury said, tuggingonherhusband’ssleeveuntil he looked at her.“He fought nobly in thePeninsula and was agreat personal help tomy father, aswell. Hisoffer to escort MissCantrell is verythoughtful.Shewillfeelmore comfortable if shehas someone to

accompany her, and hewill do far moreadmirablythanMolly.”“Perhaps Miss

Cantrell would notagree.” The marquesslookedatLeah.“Doyoufind my son’s escortacceptable?”She turned to David,

who coollymatchedhergaze.She’dseenheatinthose eyes when helookedatherlastnight-

-until she’d glimpsedKevin’s ring and beenattackedbyguilt.She’dfeltsheowedsomethingtoaguyshe’ddated forthree years--but why,when that guy hadbroken off therelationshiphalfadozentimes? The truth wasshe didn’t careanymore--andshehadaright not to care! Now

she regretted pullingback from David andextinguishing the fire inhiseyes.Thismanhada cauldron of emotionbubbling just beneaththe surface. What ifshe’d lost her onechance to unleash hispassion?At least he still

wanted to go with hertoday, even if for thewrongreasons.

“More thanacceptable,” sheansweredthemarquess,stilleyeinghisson.“I’llbe glad to have hiscompany.”David nodded to her,

expressionless, whileshe stirred her ownbrew of emotions. Hadshe been right to try topreserve a sense ofloyalty to Kevin, or hadshe foolishly ruinedher

chances for . . . forwhat? What could sheexpect from a romanticinvolvementinthistimeperiod? What little sheknew about this societypromised some majorproblems.She glanced at the

clasped hands of themarquess andmarchioness, theirwedding bands and herroundedbellyprominent

symbols of nineteenth-centurylove.IfLeahletDavid know about herattractiontohimandhereturned it, wouldmarriage and instantbaby-making be theironly option? She hadalways wanted childrenbut hadn’t imaginedthemcominguntilyearsdown the line. In thisera, reliable familyplanning would no

longerbeanalternative--and, here, a womanriskedherlifewitheverypregnancy. Poor LadySolebury! No wondershe had problems withnerves. In her place,Leahwouldbeawreck.Her gaze shot to

David’s perfect profile,grazing the straight,noblenoseandthedarklashes edging his eyes.The thought of having

his baby made hershudder--but notbecause of fear. Shemustbeinsanetothinkabout marrying andbearingthechildrenofamanshe’dmettwodaysbefore.Butshecouldn’thelp wondering if histhoughts had touchedon the same subject.Why else had he askedall those questionsaboutKevin?

No, she was absurd.She looked downward,focusing on the baretoes that peeked outunder her nightgown.Her fantasies had runrampant ever since herfantastic voyage backthrough time. Sheneeded to slow down,think clearly, plant herfeet in reality . . .nineteenth-centuryreality, if she had no

otherchoice.“Cook will have the

baskets preparedshortly after breakfast,”the marchioness said.“No doubt she hasalready started puttingthem together. JohnCoachmanwillbereadytodriveyouaround--”“I can drive,” David

interrupted. “I’ll talk tothe coachmanbeforehand to learn

whichtenantswearetovisit.”“Suit yourself,” her

ladyship said.Suddenly, she grinned,as if she’d had anamusingthought.Ifso,she didn’t share it,subduing her smile tolook to her husband.“Have one of the maidsfetchCook formewhenyou go downstairs,won’t you, Harold? I

have a few additionalinstructionsforher.”“Gladly.” He beamed

down at her. “I am sopleased to see yousmilingagain,love.Youhave already recoveredmuch of your usualglow.”Leah noted that the

marquess hadn’texaggerated. His wifelooked happy, evenflushedwithexcitement.

“Ihavesimplyrecalledhow many good thingsthere are in life,” shesaid. “With all myworriesaboutthewar,Ihave been dwelling toomuchonthebad.”“Well, I intend to do

all I can to lay yourworries to rest.” Hebrushed her hair backfromherforehead.“Youkeep concentrating onthegood.”

Leah glanced atDavid,expectingtoreadscorn in his face for allthis tenderness.Instead, she sawconcerninhiscrunchedbrow, deep thought inhisnarrowedeyes.“Ishouldliketospeak

with you on that head,Solebury,”hesaid. “Doyou have a moment tojoinmeinthestudy?”The marquess raised

an eyebrow. “Ofcourse. Or would yourather discuss yourthoughts overbreakfast?”“Ishouldratherspeak

with you now, ifpossible.” He slid aquick glance at Leahand then back to hisfather. “The idea isfreshatthemoment.”Leahdidn’thearwhat

the marquess replied,

too stunned by thelatest emotion she’ddiscerned in David . . .distrust,droppinglikeaveil over his eyes whenhisgazehadmethers.Considering all she’d

been hiding from him,shehadnogoodreasontofeelsurprise.

CHAPTEREIGHT“Well done, David.”

Solebury dropped twolumps of sugar into histea and stirred thesteamingcup.“Ihadnoidea the gate houseconcealed a secrettunnel.”Davidswallowedabite

of croissant. Somehowhehadwoundupeatingbreakfastwithhisfather

after all--not that hecared, since Leah hadnotjoinedthem,andhischief concern had beentokeepherfromhearinghisplan.“If you never

discovered or heardabout the entrance, Idoubtanyoneelsehas.”He paused to sip hisorange juice. “Even ifsomeone does know,

using the tunnel willprovide more securitythan digging out apriest’s hole. Such aproject would require anumberoflaborers.”“And all would know

the location.” Themarquess added adollop of cream to hiscup.“Inanycase,oncewe store whatevervaluablesPhoebethinkswe ought, we can seal

off the entrancethoroughly enough toconfound a casualthief. As for Boney’stroops, I don’t actuallyexpect them to invade,butiftheydo,theyshallhave no clue to thetunnel’sexistence.”“True,” David said,

“but retaining as muchsecrecy as possible canonly afford anadvantage. I suggest

keeping your activitiesfrom the servants andeven from neighborsand friends --MissCantrell, for example.What good can come ofspreading theinformation?”Solebury nodded. “I

shall swear Phoebe tosecrecy, perhaps noteven tell her where thetunnel is. You have agood head on your

shoulders,boy.”David’s gaze leapt to

his father’s face,butherefused to match themarquess’s tentativesmile. Instead, helookedbacktohisplate,picking up a knife tospread marmalade overasecondcroissant.“Would that your

brother had inheritedhalf the sense youhave,” Solebury added,

his tone lower, as if hethoughtaloud.David looked at him

again and saw that hisbrow had creased withlinesofworry.“Further tales from

London?” he could notresistasking.“Only more of the

same.” The marquessgulped his tea andstared into the cup.“William has written to

ask for yet anotheradvance on hisquarterly allowance. Ican tell you he isalready drawn well intonextyear,andIsuspectanother stipend will dolittle to ease the debtshe has amassed. Thistime, I shall deny him.He has to learnresponsibilityeventually.”

Does he indeed?David might havelaughed but settled forsmirking as he bit intohis roll. William hadnever had to fend forhimselfand,witha titleand a large estatecoming his way, henever would. Creditorswouldmakeexceptions.Solebury wouldcapitulateandcoverhisheir’s debts. Young

men of William’sprospects never wantedmuch of anything forlong.“Good morning,” a

cheerful feminine voiceaddressed them fromthe arched entrance tothe breakfast room.Leah stepped inside,dressed in a whitemuslin gown adornedwithpinksprigs.Davidcouldstillpictureherin

the sleek nightrail shehad worn earlier, herhair wonderfullydisarrayed by sleep.Since then, she hadpinnedthelonglocksupin a loose knot. Hewished he could reachoutandfreethemagainand clenched his fistsagainsthislonging.Annoyed by the

course of his thoughts,he dragged himself to

his feet and nodded agreeting. Solebury hadalready sprung up topulloutachairforher.She sat down,

tendering her thankswith a grin that turnedwry when she glanceddown the table toacknowledge David’sscant welcome. “Mollybroughtteaandtoasttomy room earlier, but Ithink I’ll have some of

those strawberries. Ialways try to eat somefruitatbreakfast.”“Do you have the

same fruits inPhiladelphia as we dohere, Miss Cantrell?”Solebury asked with abroadsmilethatrankledDavid. He surmisedthathisfatherhadusedthe same radiatingcharm to win Phoebe.Could he not let up a

bit,nowthathealreadyhadawifehalfhisage--ornearlyso?“Oh . . . yes, pretty

much.” She spoonedseverallargeberriesintoher dish. “Strawberries...apples,cherries.Ofcourse, everyone knowsthestoryofWashingtonandthecherrytree.”“Do we?” Solebury

laughed,eyes twinkling,while David pushed his

plate away, no longerhungry.She stopped with her

spoon inmidair. “Oh, Iguessyouwouldn’thearmoral tales aboutGeorgeWashingtonhereinEngland,wouldyou?Nevermind.Thisoneisonly a little legend toldto children to teachthem the value ofhonesty.”

“And did you learnhonesty from it, MissCantrell?” David cutinto their prattle,watching for herreaction.Amuscleinhercheek

twitched,butshesmiledand met his gaze. “Inthestory,Washingtonisaboyandconfrontedbyhis father aboutwhether he choppeddown a certain cherry

tree he shouldn’t have.He replies, ‘I cannot tellalie’andadmitshedid.If someone confrontedme with a similarcharge, then yes, I’danswer just ashonestly.”“But you won’t reveal

anything beyond whatyouareasked.”For an instant, her

eyebrows tilted withapparentregret. Hegot

the impression shewanted to confide herstory but could not.But why not? Becauseshe served as a spy forFrance?Orbecauseshefeared someone fromher past? A stab ofcompassion preventedhim from probingfurther. Besides, hereasoned, suchquestions ought to waituntil they spoke in

private. The mere factthat she kept personalinformation to herselfdid not warrantalarming the wholehousehold.Solebury leaned back

inhischair, clearly freeof any unusualcuriosity.“Unfortunately, thecurrent crop of Englishroyals are unlikely toinspire moral tales in

our people. I don’tsuppose you, being anAmerican, think muchof our monarchy, doyou,MissCantrell?”“I have to admit I’m

glad we don’t haveone.” Other womenwould have answeredlightly, but she spokeseriously, obviouslyweighing her words.“There’s no question

thatequalityisaworthyideal. No offenseintended, but I can’tsupport making birththe determining factorin choosing who leadsthe world and who gettrampledon.”David bristled, ever

conscious of his ownbirth, but all herattention appeared torestwithSolebury.“No offense taken.”

Themarquessdabbedanapkin to his lips.“After all that hashappened in France,onewonders howmuchlonger the Englishnobilitycancontinue.”She smiled. “I’d bet

anything the systemlasts at least anothertwohundredyears.”“You sound so

confident,”Davidnoted.He had never met a

woman who spoke onpolitical issues withsuchassurance.“I wish I felt the

same,” Solebury said,“but even if the nobilityendures, I fear my titleshan’t. I expect theestatewillberuntotheground within a decadeof my demise, with theway my son squandersmoney.”Leah’sgazetraveledto

David.“Not I,” he scoffed.

“Theheir.”Shestudiedhim fora

long moment, herforehead furrowing. Atlast, he grew souncomfortable,hethrewdown his napkin andstoodtoleavetheroom.“You’re finished?” she

asked, abandoning herfrownandrising.“Ifso,I think we should go.

The sooner we deliverthe baskets, the betterLadySoleburywillrest.Areyouready?”He looked into her

expectant eyes, ruinghis decision toaccompany her. Everysecond he spent withherfeltlikeastruggle... against losinghiswitsin her beauty, againstlosinghisdignity inherscrutiny.

But he could hardlyallow her to her goalone, free to gleanintelligence for theFrench . . . or to leapinto the spring again, ifher objective lay there.Hegrimaced.“Let’sgo.”When they emerged

from the house, theyfound Solebury’sbarouche packed withnearlyadozenbaskets.The sun shone bright

and warm, so theyelected to ride outsideon thebox. At the lastminute,agroomwarnedthemnot to visit one ofthe houses, due to acase of smallpox. Thentheysetoff.David fixed his

attentionstraightaheadas he directed thehorsesupthedrive.Heknewheshouldtaketheopportunity to question

Leah more thoroughlynow that he had heralone, but first heneeded to gather histhoughts.Hisill-judgedattempt at speakingFrench to her hadproved the folly ofrushing an endeavor asseriousasinterrogation.“You know, you

shouldn’t let your birthbother you so much,”she said suddenly,

shattering histhoughts. “I know it’snone of my business,but you’d feel muchbetterifyoucouldletgoofyourbitterness.”He stared at her. In

his entire adultexperience, no one hadever dared broach thesubjectofhisbirthwithhim. ButLeahCantrellalways managed to fallbeyondthepale.

“You are right in onerespect,”hesaid finally,turning away from hertourgethehorsesintoatrot. “You have noconcern in the matter.Next time, confine youradvice to matters youunderstand.”“But I dounderstand,

inaway.Yousee,Iwasconceived out ofwedlock,too.”He shot another look

ather.She met his gaze

calmly, as though herstatement had been nomoreoutrageousthanaremark about theweather.“Ofcourse,myexperience has been alotdifferentfromyours.My parents did marrybefore I was born--onlysix months before,though.”He could think of no

response.Wouldatimeever come when thiswoman could no longershock him? Mightshocking him even beher intention? Or didshe mean to win himover by confiding somewild, contrived taledesigned to gain hissympathy?“Unfortunately, my

father has alwaysresented the marriage--

and me--for beingfoisted on him.” Shelookeddownather lap,fiddling with her wellmanicured fingernails.“He doesn’t come outand say so, of course,but sometimes hisresentment shows. Hedid nothing to help meget through college, forexample--actuallyimpededmyprogress insomeways.AndIreally

think it was because Icuthis education short,justbyexisting.”“What do you mean

‘get you throughcollege’?” he asked.“What sort of collegecould you haveattended?”Shehesitated.“Iwent

to...school.Youmustrealize our educationsystem is different from

yours. I probably ammore educated thanmost women you know,but that’s beside thepoint. What I’m sayingis, at least your fatherdoesn’tresentyou.Youknow, fathers are neverperfect anyway. Downdeep, I knowmy fatherloves me, and I’m sureLord Solebury lovesyou. Icansee it in theway he looks at you.

Have you noticed thathe watches you all thetime?”DidSoleburytrulypay

him inordinateattention? Davidshrugged off thereflection and guidedthe horses down a dirtlane. “This is theBrowns’ cottage. Ourfirststop.”Hejumpedoffthebox

andretrievedoneof the

baskets from inside thebarouche. By the timehecircled thevehicle tohelp Leah, she hadalready climbed downonherown.“This is where they

live?” sheasked, gapingatthecottage.Heglancedatthetiny

shack, which appearedordinary in every way,except, perhaps, that

the roof had beenthatched more recentlythan most tenants’homes.“Yes.”Awomancame to the

door,ababeinherarmsand two smallerchildren at her apronstrings.“Mrs. Brown?” Leah

stepped forward andoffered her hand, anunexpected courtesythat David respected.

“I’m LeahCantrell. I’veoffered to deliver LadySolebury’s food basketsforhertoday,soshecanhavesometimetorest.”“Goodness, Ihopeher

ladyship is well.” Thewoman curtsied toLeah’s outstretchedhand. “The babe ain’tcomin’yet,isit?”“No, not yet.” Leah

hunched down to smileat Mrs. Brown’s

youngest, who gurgledin return. “She’sprecious. She is a girl,right?”David looked on with

interest. Whateverdoubts he held aboutLeah, he had noneabout her professedbelief in equality. Helikedtheeasyfamiliaritysheshowedtothispoorfamily--to him, for that

matter.Shehadknownabout his birth fromtheir first meeting andnever demonstrated ahintofdisdain. Even ifshe had told the truthabout her parents, shehad still been bornlegitimately. He hadnot.“Yes, she’s a girl,

ma’am. A handful,though.” Mrs. Brownrecounted some of the

troubles she had caringfor her other childrenwithhernewborncryingwheneversetdown.DavidlistenedtoLeah

express her sympathywith a complete lack ofreserve. Hisadmirationheightened as sheturned to tyingshoelaces, wiping nosesand prodding the olderchildren to the well,where she helped them

wash their hands andfacesbeforesittingthemdown to a luncheon ofbreadandcheese.Whentheyreturnedto

the barouche, he toldher, “You certainlyexceeded your duty tothe Browns. One doesnotoftenseeanelegantyoung lady tending therather inelegant needsofpoorchildren.”“They’re no different

from any otherchildren,” she said withadismissingwaveofherhand.“Andtenminutesof my time is nothingcomparedtothelifetimethat woman will spendrunning after thosekids.”He shook his head.

“Your views are sounusual. Americansociety must be rathermoreextraordinarythan

Iimagined.”“I do come from a

differentworld.Notthatthe society I’m fromdoesn’thavesomemajorwrinkles in need ofironing out, but I hopethe wrongs are slowlybeing righted. And Ithink you personallymight find someadvantagesthere.”Ashestoppedinfront

of the next cottage on

theirroute,heassumedshe meant his birthwould be betteracceptedinhercountry,and he supposed shehad a point. In a landwhere titles meantnothing,missingoutonone would have littleconsequence.Hewouldstill be illegitimate, ofcourse, but with hisfamily thousands ofmiles away, who would

knoworcare?Overthecourseofthe

next few stops theymade, the idea ofemigrating to Americabegantotakerootinhismind. As he watchedLeah chat openly withtenants, he foundhimself intriguedby theconceptofa landwhereallwereregardedequal.He wondered why hehad never before

considered that hemight find greateracceptanceoverseas.Furthermore, if Leah

represented the typicalAmerican, he had toadmire the self-relianceof thepeople. Hestoodamazed at cottage aftercottage as she voicedstrong, sensibleopinions. At onesickbed, she forcefullydiscouragedthepractice

of bloodletting--a viewhe shared, afterwitnessing manysoldiers die from theprocedure. At anotherhouse, she prescribedoranges, lemons orlimes for prevention ofscurvy, an idea new tohim, but somehow onehe trusted whenexpressed soconfidently. At anotherstop,shepennedaletter

in crisp handwriting,more lucid than any hehadeverbeforeseen,foranilliteratewomanwithabrotherfightingontheContinent.By the time he

brought the last twobasketsupontheboxofthe barouche, his mindwhirled. He made aneffort to concentrate onthe task at hand,consulting a list that

Phoebe had given him.“We seem to befinished. The onlyhouse left is theBanfields, and they arethe family withsmallpox. The otherbasket must be aspare.”“There’sanoteonthe

handle.” Leah pluckedoff a folded paper andopened the message.She grinned and said,

“Thisoneisforyouandme. Lady Soleburyurgesustopicnicatthegrove beyond OxheadStone. Do you knowwhereshemeans?”“Yes, she refers to a

secluded creeksideclearing that is afavorite of themarquess’s.” David’sstomachrumbledatthethought of eating, andheprivatelycommended

Phoebe for providingextrafood.“Thecreekisnot far past theBanfields. Would youliketostop?”“I’d love to.” She

sighedandlookedupattheclearbluesky.“Theweather is perfect. Butabout the Banfields–Ican still deliver theirbasket. I’ve beenexposed to smallpoxbefore,andIcan’tcatch

thedisease.”This show of courage

topped all the otherstrengths she haddemonstrated already.Naturally, he could notagreetohersuggestion.“Your courage iscommendable,Leah,butjust because youescaped infection oncedoes not prove youimmune.Thistime,youcouldbelessfortunate.”

“Actually, in a way, Ihave been infected.”She lifted one of theshort, puffy sleeves ofherdressandrevealedastarlike scar on herupper arm. “This is apockmark.”“That cannot be,” he

said, affording the scara mere glance.“Survivors of smallpoxare always severely

disfigured.”“Thisistheonlymark

Ihave,but IknowIamimmune.”He looked at herwith

skepticism. Surely, shedid not believe thatsinglemarkrepresentedsurvival of smallpox.Did she have a deathwish? His mind flewback to the suicidetheory.“Icannotallowyouto

risk your life,” he said.“If you won’t think ofyourself, think ofPhoebeandthebaby.Ifyou fell ill, you couldinfect them. In anycase,IrecallthatoneofSolebury’s grooms hashadthedisease.Hecandeliverthebasket.”“Okay,” she said. He

recognized the strangeterm as a concession.“Thatwouldprobablybe

best.”They rode past the

Banfields and on to thegrove. After they hadspread out a cloth theyfound in the basket,they pulled out thepicnicfare.Phoebehadsupplied fresh-bakedbreads, cheeses, fruitsand wine. Theyattacked the feast,eventually settling backto enjoy the

peacefulness of nature.To David’sastonishment,Leahhadno scruples instretching out on theground likeayoung ladmight.Herresemblancetoaboyendedwiththecurves accentuated bysuchaposture.Hewrenched his gaze

from the rise of herhips, reminding himselfthat he had pertinent

questions forher. Still,he could not seem tothink about espionage.Instead, his mind keptreturning to theadmiration he had feltforherallmorning.“You were marvelous

today.” His own wordssounded alien in hisears.Hehadsometimescommended soldiers ontheir conduct but nevera woman. “Are all

Americans so self-reliant?”“You’d consider me

self-reliant?” Shepropped herself up onone elbow, her raisedeyebrows registeringwonder.“Decidedly,” he told

her, surprised by hersurprise. “You areconfident in youropinions--andrightlyso,for your judgment is

very sound. To speakas frankly as you do,youareby far themostself-assured woman Iknow.”“Are you serious?” A

smile alighted on herlips. “I’ve alwaysconsidered myselfmeek. But, you knowwhat,I’mresolvedtoliveup to the strength yougiveme credit for. Theevents of the last few

dayshavemademetakealookatseveralareasofmy life that I’ve leftstagnantfortoolong.IfI ever get back to . . .back home, there aresome major changes Iplantomake.”“You aren’t certain

you will return?” heaskedwith a sinking inhis gut. Surely, hehadn’tbeen thinkinghemight visit her in

America--had he? Hemusthavesimplyhopedshewouldsharehisnewenthusiasm for hercountry.“No.” Shesighedand

musteredasmile. “Butif I don’t return,my lifeisalreadychanged,isn’tit?”“I don’t know. You

reveal so little aboutyourlife.”She pursed her lips.

“Ihavemyreasons.”“What atrocities can

you possibly need tohide from me?” Onceagain forced to ponderher involvement inespionage, he sat up.“Whatcouldyouhavetofearfromme?”She sat up, too,

rubbing her temples.“You did once threatento lock me up inBedlam.”

He winced at thesmallnessofherusuallyconfident voice.Reaching forward, helifted her chin to lookinto her eyes. “I onlysaid that to keep youfrom trying to leap intothe spring again. Inever intended tocommit you to anasylum.”“Ifnot,youstillmight,

after I tell you

everything.”Shemovedfree of his grasp andbegan packing up theleftover food,platesandutensils.Onlywhenshehadfoldedtheclothandreturnedittothebasketdid she look at himagain. “If I confidesomething that soundscrazy to you, can youpromise to keep it toyourself?”“Of course.” He tried

not to show theexcitement that surgedinhim.She pressed her lips

together, studying hisface.“I’mreallyatyourmercy, David. If yourfamily throwsmeoutofthe house, I havenowhereelsetogo.”“I promise,” he said,

his mind racing, “aslongaswhatyoutellmeentails no harm to

them.”“I would never harm

such nice people.” Shestood and took severalsteps away beforeturning back to facehim. “I’m from thefuture.”Her abrupt statement

madeno sense, but thegravityofherexpressionunnerved him. “I don’tunderstand.”“I don’t really

understand either. I’mnot even sure how toattempt anexplanation.” Shechewed her lower lip.“Beforeyoufoundmeatthespring,Ilivedinthefuture--at thebeginningof the twenty-firstcentury. The otherafternoon, I took a tourof Solebury House thatendedwithavisittothespring. I found that

gold coin . . . well, thedetails don’t evenmatter. In short, I fellinto the little pool butfelt as though I’d beensuckedintoanabyss.Ithought I was going todrown.Thenyoupulledmeout,andsuddenlyitwas 1825 . . . almosttwo hundred years inmypast.”He stared at her,

clinging to a thread of

hope that her solemnfacemight dissolve intolaughter, revealing thestory for a jest. Asseconds ticked by withno change in herexpression, nauseabegangnawingathim.“Just before I fell in

thewater,Ihadtossedacoin into the spring--acoin from this timeperiod. I think that’s

what instigated mytransport.”Shefrownedwhenhedidn’trespond,her voice quavering. “Iknow the story soundscrazy.”Crazed, indeed, but

she showed no othersigns of madness. Onthe contrary, sheappeared all sense andintellect. Wasshe lyingthen? Only the worstsort of fabricator could

come up with a tale sofantastic. And forwhatpurpose? To hidespying activities? Toconceal her identitybecause of some crimeinherpast? He turnedawayfromher,thinking,for a minute, that heactuallymightbesick.“I can tell you all

about the future, if youwanttoknow,”shesaidquietly. “Maybe if I

reveal enough, you’llrealize I couldn’t havemadeeverythingup.I’dhave to have a veryactiveimaginationto--”“Enough,” he

erupted. He took aminute to breathedeeply, quelling hischagrinbyexchangingitfor rage. How stupidcould she think him?He stalked toward thebarouche, tossing back

over his shoulder, “IfyouwantaridebacktoSolebury House, youhadbeststeplively.”“David,wait!”He could hear her

snap the basket lidshut, then her footfallsas she ran up behindhim.“Iknowthisishardto

believe,butIthinkIcanconvince you if you’llgivemeachance.”

“Haveyounotinsultedmy intelligenceenough?” He couldn’tbear to look at her.Turning away, heopened the carriagedoor. “You can rideinside.”For a moment, she

stood still, then helistened to her climbintothecarriage.When she spoke

again,hertonesounded

high-pitched andurgent. “When youcalm down a little, Iwant to talk to you,David.Please.”He let the door bang

shut and climbed ontothe box. On the waybacktoSoleburyHouse,the horses could notgallop fast enough forhim. He passed thewhole ride agonizing forthemomenthecouldrid

himself of his deceitfulpassenger.Unfortunately, he

couldonlyavoidher forso long. She couldscarcely be trustedenough to leave her onherown.

CHAPTERNINE“Thank you again for

delivering the baskets,Miss Cantrell,” LadySolebury said,enveloped in a pile ofpillows. Eyes clear andcheekstingedwithpink,she looked reassuringlyhealthyafterherday inbed. “And thanks, too,for coming up to chatwith me about the

tenants. I cannot tellyou how much I haveenjoyedourlittlecoze.”“My pleasure.” Leah

shiftedherposition inawell stuffed armchairbesidethebed,thinkingjust how much apleasure it had been toescape toher ladyship’sroom.Ifabarrelingridehomeinsidethecarriagehadn’t been enough tomake her regret trying

to explain the truth toDavid, his constantglares during dinnercertainly had. She stilldidn’t know what toexpect from himultimately. This verymoment, he might betellinghisfatherthathethought she should becommitted.She swallowed and

tried not to expect theworst, refocusing her

attention on LadySolebury.“I’mhappytobe ofuse to you. I feelbad for imposing onyour hospitality somuch, but for the timebeing, I’m afraid I don’thave anywhere else togo.”The marchioness

smiled. “You arewelcomehereforaslongas you like, dear. Nowthat I am confined to

this bedchamber, I amdoubly pleased to havecompany--not that Iwant you to feel youmustpassallyour timewith me. Indeed,tonight you haveentertained me farlonger than you shouldhavedone. I oughtnotto have kept you fromthegentlemen.”“I’veenjoyedourtalk,”

Leah assured her. Her

ladyship’s accounts ofnineteenth-century lifehad been fascinating--and she hadn’t missedDavid’s stony looks onebit. “Besides, I thinkyourstepsonhadhisfillofmethisafternoon.”Lady Solebury gave

her a crooked smile. “Irather doubt that. Myhusband told me Davidbrooded all throughdinner, but you must

not imagine his sulkingis directed at you. Asbright a young womanas you are, you cannothavemissedthetensionbetween him and hisfather.”This evening all the

tension had beenbetween him and her,but Leah chose not toenlighten her on thatpoint.

“I’ve noticed it, allright,” she said, “and Ithink David’s bitternessis a shame. He reallyshould try to lightenup.Itoldhimasmuchthismorning.”“Did you, indeed?”

Her ladyship pulledherself up into a sittingposition,stuffingpillowsbehind her back. “Idon’t imagine heaccepted your counsel

graciously.”She let out a short

laugh. “Not at all. Hetoldmetomindmyownbusiness. I suppose Ishouldhave.”“On the contrary, I

believe your wordsmayalready have had aneffect on him. Davidhas spent this entireevening with his father,an event I haveunsuccessfully tried to

orchestrate sincemarrying into thefamily. In fact, lastnightwas the first timesincehischildhoodthathe has sat down todinner with his father.Until this current visit,David has confined allhis calls to an hour atmost.”“Really?” Leah was

surprised but didn’tdeludeherselfabouther

powers of influence. IfDavid’s staying longerthis time had anythingto do with her, it wasonlybecausehewantedto keep an eye on her.Still, if his distrustforced him to deal withhis father, maybe herpresence did somegood. Bringing the twomen together mighteven be her “purpose”here in the nineteenth

century--ifshehadone.“Really.” Lady

Solebury grinned. “Isuspectthetwoofthemhave even concoctedsomekindofconspiracybetweenthem.”Leah couldn’t share

her amusement. Shecould only see Davidcolluding with LordSolebury if he had averygoodreason. . . toprotect Phoebe from an

insane houseguest, forexample.“What makes you

think they areconspiring?” she asked,every muscle in herbodytense.With a glance toward

the open hall door, themarchioness loweredher voice. “When Iremarked to Haroldabout David’s unusualwillingness to spend

time with him, he toldme they had specificbusiness to discuss. Iasked what sort ofbusiness,butheputmeoff, claiming it didn’tsignify. Now, if thematter weren’timportant, I am certainDavidwouldnottoleratehis father’s company.Clearly, they areschemingtogether.”Leah’s anxiety rose to

paniclevel.Theyhadtobe discussing her.What other matterwould concern themboth so deeply? Rightnow, David wasprobably relatingeverything she’d toldhim,recommendingthatshe be locked awayforever.She looked at the

doorway, half-expectingthe men to charge

through and drag herout of the house. Butthey wouldn’t want toupset her ladyship,especially after lastnight’s scare. TheywouldwaitatleastuntilLeah left themarchioness’s room.Did that leave her achance to save herselfsomehow--to come upwithabetter story? Ormayberunaway?

“I think I comprehendtheir game,” LadySolebury continued,herlips curving upward.“They are plotting toconstruct a priest’shole.DoyourememberDavid’s mentioning hewanted to speak withHaroldthismorning?”“Yes,” Leah managed

toutter. Shecould feelher pulse throbbing inher throat. “But why

would they hide theirplans from you? Thepriest’s hole was yourideainthefirstplace.”Sheshrugged.“Likely

they don’t wish totrouble me any furtheron the subject. Haroldhasinstructedmenottothink about the war atall--as if Imight simplyhalt my concerns. Youknow howmen’smindswork.”

“IwishIknewbetter,”Leah murmured, notconvinced. More likely,thesubjecttheythoughtwouldworryherwasherhouseguest’s impendingcommitment. She eyedthe doorway again,wondering if they’d bewaiting in her room,ready to haul her awayto some filthy cell. Orwouldtheyholdoffuntilmorning?

The marchionesslaughed at hercomment. “Don’t weall? AndafterspendingthedaywithDavid,youmust bemore confusedabout men than ever.Pray do not judge themallbyhisquirks. He ishardly typical of hisgender.”“No,” she answered

absently. “He’s a hardnuttocrack.”

“An apt charactersummation. Butconsider this: Perhapsthe ‘nuts’with themostdifficult shells are theoneswhoyieldthemosttantalizing fruit. I haveknown David for years,andIcantellyouheisaremarkable man.Beneath the hardexterior, he is quitesensitivetotheneedsofothers. His own needs

aretheoneshetendstoneglect.”“I know.” Leah had

seenenoughevidenceofhis concern for her toagree. Even now, if hedid mean to put heraway,sheknewheonlywanted to protect hisfamily from a crazywoman--or even toprotect her from hersupposed suicideattempts. Was there

any chance he’d comeupwithasolutionotherthan Bedlam? Notmuch. She couldn’teven think of one tosuggesttohim.Watching her face,

LadySolebury frowned.“You seem troubled,dear. Are you certainyou don’t want to talkabout your difficulties?Often, matters don’t

look as bleak once youhave expressed themopenly.”“I appreciate your

concern.Unfortunately,Ihaven’thadmuchluckwhen I’ve trieddiscussing thisparticular matter.”Unable to hide hergrowing anxiety, Leahdecided she might aswell face whateverawaited her in her

room. She took a deepbreath and stood. “IthinkI’llgotobednow.Thankyou,mylady,foreverything you’ve doneforme.”Lady Solebury

extended her hand.“And thank you for allyoureffortsonmypart.Iwonder,MissCantrell,if I might call you byyour given name? Ishould like very much

for you to call mePhoebe.”“I’d like it verymuch,

too,Phoebe.”Leahgaveher hand a squeeze.She wondered how themen would explain herdisappearance to themarchioness once theytook her away. Shesupposed they wouldsay she’d run away.Phoebe would have noreason to doubt them.

She probably alreadythought Leah had runaway from home. “Wehaven’t known eachother long, but you’vebeen a good friend tome.”“Andyoutome,Leah.

Goodnight.”“Goodnight.”Shesteppedoutofthe

room with her heartpounding. No one waswaiting for her in the

hallway. Determinednot to lose her nerve,shewalked toher roomquickly and found thatempty as well. Sheentered and locked thedoor but still feltinsecure.Themarquesswouldhaveakey.Ifshehad any hope of savingherself, she’d have toactbeforehecameafterher.Moonlight peeked

throughtheopendrapesof herwindow, and shewenttoleanonthewidesill, checking thedistance to theground.The drop looked toosteepforjumping,butalargeoaktreegrewcloseenough that she mightbeabletostepoutontoone of the thickerbranches and climbdown. Then wherewould she go? She’d

have no choice but totry the spring. Thethought of drowningterrifiedherbut,at thispoint, trying to live inthe nineteenth centuryseemed equallydangerous.She fetched the

sundress she’dwornonthe day of her timetransport, stripped offher borrowed costume,and threw on her

modern clothes. She’dlost her own shoes inthewater,sosheputonthe halfboots Phoebehad given her forwalking. Snatching theonly coin she ownedfrom a cloth purse alsosupplied by themarchioness, sheopened the window. Abreeze fanned her face,cooling the mist ofperspiration on her

forehead.Hesitating would only

allowtimeforherfeartobuild. She took a deepbreath and climbed outonto a narrow ledge.The wind gusted,pastingherdresstoherlegsmuchlikeshegluedher back to the coldstonewall.Ignoringthechillof theair,sheheldonto the window framewith one hand and

stretched the other armto grab an overheadbranch. She caughthold and swung onto alarger limb below,immediately inchingtoward the trunk. Theoldtreehadlotsofthickbranches, making therest of her descentrelativelyeasy.She dropped onto the

groundandscannedhersurroundings. There

was no sign of anyonearound. Nevertheless,she darted her way tothe drive, crouchingbehind one tree, thenthe next. On reachingthegravel,sheranuntilshemetwiththepathtothe spring. There, acanopyofleavesblockedthe light of the moon,and she had to treadmore carefully. Shefought the urge to fly

through the unseenbrambles. She couldfeel terror chasing her--gaining fast--its coldbreathwhippingupherspine.A twig snapped

somewhere behind her,andshefroze,breathinghard from fear andexertion.“Is someone there?”

she asked, her voicecarriedawayonanother

surgeofwind.Sheheldherbreathto

listen, goose bumpsrising on her sweat-dampened body.Shivering, she rubbedher bare arms. If thespring didn’t take herforward in time, shewould be left wet, coldand helpless--but shewould worry about thatwhen the time came.Dismissing the feeling

that someone followedher, she trudged aheadto the clearing wherethe springhouse stood.Here, moonlight shinedthrough the trees,glittering on the breeze-rippledpool.Not nearly enough

timehadpassed todullthememoryofhernear-drowning,and thesightof the water made herknees weak. But she

hadn’t drowned, shereminded herself, andnow that she knew thenature of the transport,she wouldn’t need tostruggle against thewater. In a fewminutes, she could behome again--in time, ifnotspace.She slipped off

Phoebe’s halfboots andstepped up to the pool,the moss beneath her

bare soles cold andclammy. Staring intothewater,shewonderedif she’d fulfilled apurpose here or not.She had no way ofknowing, but herpresence had forcedDavid to spend timewith his father--andshe’dlearnedalotaboutherselfoverthepasttwodays.The memory of David

calling her self-reliantmadeher smile, despiteallher fears. Shecouldrely on herself andlooked forward todemonstrating herpower when she gothome. Why had shethought she neededKevin’s unstablecompanionship to bewhole? Why had shethought she neededher

father’s blessing tofinish school? Fromnowon,shewouldmoveahead on her own--andshe would stopexpecting her father tobesomethingotherthanwhat he was. Seeingthe way David’sbitterness for his fatherateathimhadmadeherrealizeshehadto letgoof her own resentmenttowardherparents.

“So many reasons togo ahead and provemyself,” she said aloud,staring into the water.Part of her felt excitedabout taking on thefuture . . . but partlonged for somethingelse. More precisely,someoneelse.“Onlyonereason to stay behind--and not a very logicalone.”

She tried towill awaythe thought of David,buthisbriefpresenceinher life had meant toomuch. She couldalmostfeelhimnearhernow--though in anotherminute, he might wellbe two hundred yearsaway, never to be seenagain.Chokingonasob,she

drew the shiny GeorgeIII coin out of her

pocket.“Iwish Iwereback in

the future,” shemumbled. She flippedthe gold disk into thepool.Thecoinsankintodarkness, and shewatched the circularripples expand andfade-- just like theywould in any ordinarypuddle.It’s not going towork,

she thought. TheGeorgeIIIcoinwasfromthis time period.Somehow she knew itwasn’t the rightcurrency to pay for aride to the future. Ofcourse, she still had tomake sure, especiallysince she didn’t have acoinfromherownera.She stepped into the

perimeter of the pool

with a gasp at thecoldness of the water.Her feet sank into themuddybottom,andshewrinkledhernoseattheoozebetweenhertoes.Nothinghappened.Clenching her teeth,

she hiked up her dressand eased closer to thecenter of the pool. Icywater washed up overherknees,andherrightfoot settled on

something gnarled andslimy--a tree root, sherealized.Beforeshehadquite gained a foothold,the touch of somethingcold on her left toesstartled her and madeher lose her balance.She splashed rear-firstinto the shallow pool.Freezingwaterdrenchedmostofherdressbeforeshe could spring to herfeetagain.

Still, no magicexplodedaroundher.With an odd mixture

of frustrationandrelief,she sloshed out of thepool, shivering violentlyin her drippingsundress. Now whatcould she do? Runsomewhere else--orleave herself to David’smercy?Twigs crackled in the

woods, and David

himself stepped outfrom behind a tree,answering the dilemmafor her. His dark eyeswere round with shockratherthannarrowedinrage,asshewouldhaveexpected. She countedherselfluckyandwaitedfor him to walk up toher.He stoppeddirectly in

front ofher. “Well, youhave convinced me you

areutterlymad.”What little hope she’d

clung to fell away,leaving her dizzy withfear.Shestaredupintohis face, her teethchattering. “So, you’llputmeinBedlam?”“Oh,Leah.” Hisvoice

softened, and he shookhis head. “I told you Iwould not. What I willdo, I don’t know, but Iwould not wish the

horrorsofBedlamuponanyone.”She looked into his

eyes, and his steadygaze told her he spokethetruth.Relieffloodedher body, priming twobig tears to roll downhercheeks.Shesawhisjaw muscles tightenbefore she hid her faceinherhands.“You must be

freezing.” His voice

trembled slightly, andshe heard his clothingrustle with movement.The next second, hewrapped his jacketaround her shoulders.As the warmth of thegarment engulfed her,he pulled her againsthischest.She leaned into his

body, savoring thesecurityofhisarms,tooemotional to say

anything withoutsobbing.He stroked her hair

andspokesoftly.“Sinceyou clearly believe thiswishing well story ofyours,Icanonlywonderabout your accidentagain.Iknowyouclaimyou escaped injury, butplease reconsiderwhetheryoumighthavesustained a headinjury. Such trauma

has been known tocause delusion. I,personally, havewitnessed similar casesinsoldiers.”She lookedup at him

sadly, knowing shewould never persuadehim to believe thetruth. Unwilling to lie,sheremainedsilent.“Think about it,

Leah.” He lifted herchinwithhis fingertips,

gazing into her eyes.“You are a rationalwoman. You don’treallybelieve inwishingwells, do you?Especially after thisepisodehere?”“I . . . I don’t know.”

Sheclosedhereyesandpulled him tightlyagainsther.He hugged her back,

his arms strong andwarm. “Come. Let’s

return to the gatehouse. You can dryyourself before I takeyoubacktothemanor.Allow me to help youwithyourshoes.”She held onto his

shoulder while hestooped to slip her feetintoPhoebe’shalfboots.Hestoodagain,andshesank against his body,letting him guide herback to the drive. Her

mind spun with ajumble of emotions.Remaining here withDavid filled her withhappiness, but justbelowthesurfaceahintof despair pricked ather. If she couldn’tconvince him of thetruth, she would neverbe able to share herhistory with him, neverbe able to relate all theexperiences that made

her who she was. Inshort, he would neverreally know her, andright now knowing himmeantmoretoherthananything.She dammed up a

fresh threat of tears,buryingherfaceagainsthischest.Captivatedbythe warmth of his bodyand the faint, starchyscent of his shirt, shealmost believed living

with him would beenough...evenifshe’dbelivingalie.

CHAPTERTENDavid guided Leah

ahead of him throughthereardoorofthegatehouse,hishandlightonthe small of her back.Beneath thehemof thejacket he had wrappedaround her, her shiftclungtoherthighs.Thewet fabric ended at theback of her knees,baring a shocking

expanse of calf. Heyanked his gaze awayandglancedoutoverthemoonlit garden. Thenhe stepped inside andshut out the rest of theworld.He turned in to face

the kitchen and clearedhis throat. “Herladyship’s servantsstoke up the sittingroom fire before theyretire to the manor

house. The door isahead to the right--theone where you see theglow.”As they walked

through the hall, dimlylitbyasingleoillamp,asharp awareness of hersparked through hisbody. Since he hadrefused any overnighthelp, he and Leah hadthe entire cottage tothemselves--a notion

that quickened hisblood.“This is lovely,” she

saidastheyenteredthesitting room. Manywould have thought theroomsmall, buthehadalways loved the cozysetting. She walked tothe hearth, holding herpalms out to theembers.He stepped up beside

her and stooped to

rekindle the fire. Asflameslickedatthenewwood,heresistedastingof conscience, tellinghimself he had goodreason to bring herhere.Hecouldnothaveallowed her to walk allthe way back to themanor drenched andshivering. And whiletheir isolation in thegate housemight tempthim, he would never

take advantage of thesituation.After a moment of

warmingherhands,shebegan to pluck at thewet cloth that adheredto her legs. He did hisbesttoavoidwatching.“Mydressissoaked.”“Letmefindarobefor

youtowear.”Hefelthisface flush with heat--and not because of thebuilding blaze in the

hearth. He could onlyhopethelackoflightingwould mask hisembarrassment. “Nowthat the fire is burning,your clothes should dryquickly.”He strode from the

room, boundingupstairs to hischamber. When hereturned a momentlater, she had removedhis jacket and stood

beforetheflamesinonlyher shift. The light ofthe fire created asilhouette of her bodyon the thin fabric,delineating her slenderwaist and the gentlecurves of her hips andthighs.Looking away, he

handedherhisdressingrobeandawoolblanket,thenturnedtoleavetheroom.

“Please don’t goagain. I don’t want tobealone.”He swung around in

surprise, inadvertentlysweepinghis gazedownherbodybeforehefixedon her face. Shemusthave noticed, but tosave himself frommortification,hetriedtobelieve she had not.“You need time tochange.”

She moistened herlipsandavoidedlookingathim. “Will you comebackquickly?”“Of course. I shall

returninamoment...with brandy to helpwarmyou.”Without offering her

anopportunitytoobject,he rushed off to thestudy, trying not todwell on the mentalimage of her disrobing.

He fetched a decanterand two snifters, fillingone of the glasses andgulping a burningmouthful. He hadquaffed the entire drinkbefore he went back tothesittingroom.Whenhedid,hefound

Leah curled up on asettee in front of thefire. She sat watchingthe flames, his robevoluminous on her

petite frame. Thefirelight lent a soft glowto her complexion andgold-like glints to herhair. She had drapedthe blanket over herlower limbs, but theirbarebeautywas freshlyetchedinhismind.Hehandedheraglass

ofbrandyandpulledupachair.“Areyoufeelingbetternow?”“Warmer, though you

can imagine I still havea few things on mymind.” She sipped atherdrink,wincingwhenshe swallowed the fieryliquid. After blinkingseveral times, she tookanother sip and faredbetter. “Will LordSolebury be looking forme?”“I see no reason why

he would, unlesssomeone other than I

also witnessed yourdescentintheoaktree--and I don’t believe so.You frightened the hellout of me with thatescapade,Leah.Iwouldhave called out to stopyou, but I fearedstartling you into losingyourbalance.”He thought she

blushed, but shequickly recovered hercomposure. “Phoebe

saidyourfathertoldheryoutwohadbusinesstodiscuss. Did thatbusinessinvolveme?”Hehesitated. Though

he no longer suspectedshe had connectionswith the French, heconsidered a vagueanswerhisbestchoice.“I have some ideas forpreparingforBoney.”“Not ideas for dealing

withme?”Sheheldher

snifterwithbothhands,elbowssqueezedagainsther body. “Imean, didyou tellhimwhat I toldyouthisafternoon?”He shook his head,

noting her lack ofinterest in his referenceto Napoleon. “None ofit.”“Thankyou.”He drew his chair

closer to the settee.“Regarding your story,

Leah,haveyouhadtimeto consider what Isuggested during ourwalk from the spring?Even if you did notstrike your head theother day, the shock ofnearly drowning couldbeenoughtocauseyousome . . . someconfusion.”“Do we have to talk

about this?” Sheswallowedamouthfulof

brandy and pulled herlegs up on the settee,huddling her knees toher chest. Drawing theblanket more tightlyaround her, she said,“I’msocold.”“If we discuss it, we

may be able to discoverwhat truly happened toyou. You said yourselfthat you don’tunderstand how youcould have traveled

through time. Let usstartwiththat.Tellme,what is your lastmemory before you fellintothespring?”She shuddered, the

lastofherbrandynearlysplashing out of thesnifter. Throughchattering teeth, shesaid, “I can’t seem toshakeoffthischill.”He got up and sat

besideher,wrappingan

arm around hershoulders before herealized he had uppedthe intimacy of thesituation. Disengaginghisholdagain,hepriedher glass from herfingers.“Letmegetyouanotherdrink.”Whilehepouredmore

brandyforbothofthem,he focusedhisthoughtson her reluctance todiscuss her mental

state. She seemed tohave no desire to learnthe truth, and hebelieved he knew why.Fantasy had displacedher true memories, soshe had no idea whatmightactuallylayinherpast. No wonder theprospect ofremembering made hershakelikealeaf.He turned back

toward the settee and

handedLeahherglass.Sitting back down, hemade sure to leaveseveral inches of spacebetween her body andhis.To his dismay, she

slumped against him,tucking her headunderhis chin. Instinct toldhimtogetaway,buthertrembling body beggedfor comforting. Almostwithout his volition, his

arm dropped backaroundher.She sighed. “Thanks

forcomingovertowarmmeup.”He still suspected the

move had been amistake. So close toher, and in suchseclusion, he lost allability to refrain fromthoughtsoflovemaking.“Ifeelbetteralready.I

don’t think I’llneedany

more brandy.” Sheleaned forward and sether snifter down on thehearth stones. With aglance over hershoulder, she gesturedtoward his drink. “Doyouwantthat?”He handed it to her,

scarcely able to think.As she took the glassand placed it besidehers, he struggled torecapture his common

sense. “Leah, we musttalk.Itisimportant.”“I know it is, David,

but I’m cold and tired,and I’mall talkedout.”She nestled backagainst his chest, likelyable to hear hispounding heart rightthrough his shirt andwaistcoat.Yawning,sheasked, “Can’t itwait tillmorning?”Her body felt

dangerously tantalizing,andhersleepycommentbrought to mind howgood it would be tosnuggle up beside herfor the night. If she’dhadherwits abouther,shewouldhave realizedthe dangers of herbehavior.Sinceshedidnot,heneededtowatchoutforher.But her hair smelled

like rosewater, and theflecksoflightwithinthered mesmerized him.He lifteda lockandranhis fingers through thesilkenstrands.“A shiny as hard

candy,”hemurmured.“My friend Jeanine

compared the color tocinnamon,” she said,gazingintothefire.“Two temptations.”

His mind seemed to go

off on its own pointlesspath.“Whichoneisit?”She gave a quiet

laugh. “Why don’t youtasteitandsee?”His mouth fell open,

andhestiffened.Hefelta stirring in hisbreeches and tried invain to containhiswildthoughts.She lifted her head

and looked into hiseyes, their lips only

inches apart. Raisingone hand, she grazedthe side of his head, sohis hair tickled hisneck. “What flavor isyours? Such a deep,richblackcouldonlybelicorice,Isuppose.”His breath came

quick, despite hisknowing he ought tosteer her in a moreserious direction. Butthetemptationtoreturn

her teasing wasirresistible.“Whydon’tyoutasteit

andsee?”heasked.Her eyes rounded but

only fleetingly. Thenshe lifted a lock of hishair, the back of herhand brushing his earlobe. Shepaused, thenleaned in close, asthough she trulymeanttotastehishair!Then...shedid.Or

she must have, alsosampling his flesh,becausehefeltthetipofher tongue, warm andmoist, just behind hisear. Foramomentsheremained pressed closetohim,andhethought,hoped,fearedshewouldkiss his neck. But shepulled back and lookedinto his eyes, emerald-tintedflamesreflectedinherown.

“Licorice?” he uttered,hisbreath rushingout.He had not realized hewasholdingit.“Much better than

licorice. But youhaven’ttriedmine.”Shetiltedherheadbackandto one side, a gesturethat proffered her neckrather more than herhair.He knew she lacked

lucidity of mind, knew

he had to protect herfromherownprecariousmental state. But heneeded to taste her,now, while he could.Shameful or not, astarving man had tofeed.Closing eyes that felt

like they would burnunderhergaze,hebentand brushed his lipsoverthesoftskinunder

her jawline. The scentof roses captivatedhim,and he pressed hismouth hard into herflesh, sowing downwardto the curve of hershoulder.Hepulledherbodytohis,savoringthesoftness of her breastsagainst his chest. Helonged to plunge kissesdownward, deep withinthe yielding neckline ofher robe, but he

checked himself. Hewould have her mouthinstead.Hehadtohaveher mouth just thisonce, before thismarvelousdreamended.Heglimpsedgreenfire

in her eyes beforeleaning in to savor herlips. She fed on hismouth inturn,hungrilyansweringhiskiss.Sheparted her lips to offerhertongue,faintlysweet

withthetasteofbrandy--and ten times moreintoxicating.Intoxicating--nay,

toxic, because thestupor descending onhisbrainpreventedhimfromprotectingherfromherself--indeed, fromhim. He fought hisreeling senses andpulled away from herlips, holding her headbetween his hands to

stare intoher eyes. Hecould feel her chestheavingagainsthis.“Leah,”hewhispered.

“Good Lord, Leah, youhavenonotionwhatyouaredoingtome.”She reached up and

ranherfingersdownhischeek. “Only kissingyou,David.”“We must stop. We

must stop now.” Hesummoned all his

willpowerandextricatedhimself from her arms.How in heaven’s namehad he allowedcircumstancestogothisfar--nearly too far toturnback?“We . . . don’t really

have to stop,” she saidquietly. “There’s noharminkissing.”“No?”Helookedaway

from her, covering hislower face with his

hand.Perhapshisbasebirthdidtell,afterall.Atrue gentleman neverwould have exposed avulnerable woman tosuch an ignoble displayof lust. He was a curindeed.“Mybehaviorisshameful. If yourmindwere entirely soundright now, you wouldnot evenbe sittingherewithme.”“Mymindissound.”

He leapt up from thesettee,pacingthelengthof the hearth. “Yourjudgmentisimpaired.Iknow that, and I havebehaved reprehensibly.I never should havebroughtyouhere in thefirstplace.IamafraidImustescortyoubacktothe manor house thisinstant. If your shifthas not dried, you cankeep the robe. Indeed,

you must keep itregardless.”She rose slowly,

pulling the wrap closeraround her body. “Iappreciateyourconcernforme,David,especiallyconsidering the lack ofconcern I’m used toreceiving. But I wantyoutoknowthatIdon’tbelieve my being herewithyou is the leastbit

reprehensible. I wishyoufeltthesame.”He stopped in his

tracks, shaking hishead. “Leah, youmusttry to think clearly.Surely,youcanseehowperilousourbeingalonehereis.”“Okay.” She pressed

her palms together infront ofher, as if aboutto deliver a speech.“We’ll both think

clearly.Now,firstofall,let’s establish justwhatis perilous here. Whatwouldthatbe,David?”He pressed his lips

together tightly. “Nomatter what delusionsyou may entertain,Leah, I know you haveenough sense to realizeyour virtue is injeopardy here. Ifsomeoneweretohappenupon us now--let alone

several minutes ago--you would bethoroughlycompromised.”She put her hand up

over her mouth, onlyhalf-concealingasmile.He threw his hands

up in frustration. “Youshow no anxietywhatsoever over yourreputation! Yourrecklessness isdownright frightening.

Now, you said youwould try to thinkclearly. Do you trulynotperceiveanydangerhere?”Her expression

sobered, and shestudied his face for amoment.Bendingdownto retrieve their drinks,she handed him asnifter. “Did you everconsider that the worldmight be a better place

if an adult man andwoman could choose tobealonetogetheriftheywanted?NowI’murgingyoutothink.”“I fear I cannot think

at all at the moment.”Heswiggeddownagulpofbrandy.“Don’t you think we

ought to be able to sithere together if wewant? To snuggle? To

kissorevenmakelove?”Hefrozewithhisglass

in midair. “Are youmad? The world doesnotgoonthatway!”“No . . .” She looked

into her drink, swirlingthe amber liquid ontothesidesof thesnifter.“Notyet.”He frowned at her

apparent reference tothe “future” she hadfabricated in her head.

“What, precisely, areyousaying?”“Nothing.” She

walked to the chairwhere her shift hungandturnedthegarmentso the opposite sidefacedthefire.“Leah, how far does

this future-time fantasyof yours go?” Hewondered whether hewanted to hear heranswer, suspecting that

the deeper her delusionwent,themoredifficultyshe would have castingit off. “Do you actuallyhave‘memories’oflifeinanothertimeperiod?”She sat back down,

again gazing into herbrandy. “I see noreasontotellyou,sinceyou’re so sure it’s allfantasy.”“I am only trying to

gaugethenatureofyour

problem. Do you havememories or none atall?”“I have memories.”

Her focus remainedfixedinherglass.“And the events you

recall cannotconceivably have takenplaceinthiscentury?”Shemethisgaze,eyes

narrowed, but gave noresponse.He gathered that her

subconsciousmind hadactually invented ideasabout her life in thefuture. “What makesyou believe theyoccurred in anothertime?”Hershoulderssagged,

and she set her glassdown on the floor. “Ithink I should go,David.Thisisn’tgettingusanywhere.”“Why are you

unwilling to discussyour memories? I toldyou I would never sendyoutoBedlam. Doyounotbelieveme?”“I believe you. I just

don’twanttotalkaboutit. Handmemy dress,please.”He watched her a

momentlonger,noticingherexpressionhadgonesad. Suddenly, a newthought came to him:

Perhaps she refused totry to work onunderstanding herproblems because shehad reason to avoid thetruth.Perhapsshehadcreated a fantasybackground for herselfbecause her true pastwas too painful toretain. If so, he mightdo best to indulge herfor the time being.Whenshegrewreadyto

remember, she wouldremember.Placing his brandy on

the mantel, he fetchedhershiftfromthechair.Thefemininesoftnessofthe garment absorbedhim. As he tested thematerial fordryness,heobserved the fabric felttoo fine for cotton, yetlackedtheshineofsilk.He had opened hismouth toaskabout the

material when henoticed a label of somesort sewn into thebackoftheneckline--perhapsa name tag. Curious,he tilted the little pieceof cloth toward thefirelight and read,“100% RAYON, DRYCLEAN ONLY.” Theletters appeareduniformly printed, astheywouldinabookornewspaper.

“What is this?” heasked.“The tag,” she said,

her gaze anchored onhis eyes. “Mass-produced clothing islabeledlikethat.”He resisted inquiring

what the term “mass-produced” meant.Though he had decidedto indulge her fantasy,he had no intention ofencouraging further

delusion.“Look at the seams,”

she said. “Have youever seen sewing likethat?”He turned the

neckline inside out,revealing an intricatepattern of looped,twisted and interlacedstitches, all amazinglyequal in size andspacing. He couldscarcely fathom why a

seamstress wouldchoose such anelaboratepatternfortheinside of a garment.“This must have takenan extraordinaryamount of time toproduce.”“On the contrary, the

work is done veryquickly . . . by amachine.” Shecontinued to regard hisface. “By machine, I

meanatoolconstructedof multiple, movingparts, the way a clockis. A sewing machinecan whip out thoseseamsinseconds.”He glanced down at

the labyrinthof stitchesand the peculiarprinted label.Gooseflesh rose on hisarms.But her explanation

couldonlybenonsense.

The brandy, theflickering enchantmentoffirelight,thespellherlips and body had castupon him--all thesefactors had clouded thelinebetweenrealityandthe fantastic until hecouldnolongertrusthisownjudgment.His fingers tightened

on the fabric as angerwelledupinsideofhim.Ifhecouldhaveshaken

senseintoher,hewouldhavetried,butmindlessactionwoulddonogoodinacaseascomplexasthis.“Put this on,” he said

through clenched teeth,tossing her the shift.“We shall leave in fiveminutes.”He marched from the

room and went to thestudy, slamming thedoor behind him. The

empty shelf where thebrandydecanterusuallystood glared at him,reminding him heshouldhavebroughthisglass with him. Hecouldhaveusedanotherdrink to help settle thewhirl of emotionagitating his mind andbody--though merealcohol would hardlyblank out the disorderLeah Cantrell had

broughtintohisworld.If the confusion of

sorting out her life didnomore than leavehimwith a predilection forspirits, he would befortunate. If he provedless fortunate,hemightcome out of theexperienceamadman.

CHAPTERELEVENLeah woke up in a

flood of sunlight,realizing shemust haveslept late. Betweenherfailed attempt to returntothefutureandthesosweet, sobrief romanticencounter with David,she’dhadplentytokeepher up most of thenight.She stretched her

arms above her head,wondering if she’d everget home. Worryingabout it would onlymake her crazy. If shewere meant to return,shewouldfindtheway.Meanwhile, she hadresolved that whetherher time in thenineteenthcenturywerelong or short, shewanted to spend asmuch of it as possible

with David. She alsorealizedthattogetclosetohim,shecouldn’tlivea lie. Somehow, shewould have to convincehimofherstory--a taskthat wouldn’t proveeasy.Sheclimbedoutofthe

high bed and washedherfacewithtepidwaterfrom a pitcher on thevanity. A small mirrorabove the basin

reflectedtheevidenceoftoo-littlerest:apalenessto her already lightcomplexion and faintcircles under herbloodshot eyes. Shewould have done justabout anything for atubeofconcealer.As she turned from

the mirror, she almosttripped on a pile ofclotheslyingonthefloorfrom the night before.

She stooped to pick upher sundress, thinkingshe really should havebeen more careful withthe only evidence shehad of her origins--theonephysicalremnantofher life in the twenty-firstcentury.Something from her

owntimeperiod.An idea popped into

her head, and she gave

the heap of fabric asecondlook. Couldsheoffer her dress to thefountain as “fare” forherreturntrip?Anitemof clothing didn’t havethesamesortofvalueacoin did, but the dresshadcomefromtherightera. And maybe Celticdeities honored adifferent form ofcurrency than mere

mortals.As she stood, shaking

out the wrinkled rayon,somethingfelloutofthepocketand thumpedonthe carpet. She lookeddownand,sureenough,theGeorgeIIIcoinlayatherfeet.“The proverbial bad

penny,” she muttered,bending down to pickupthepiece.“Onlythisone is a little too eerie

forme.”She shuddered and

stowed it away in thecloth purse she’d heardPhoebecalla“reticule.”Why did the damn coinend up back with herevery time she tossed itin the spring? If somegreater power intendedhertouseitsomeotherway, then how? Sheremembered wonderingabout theoriginalwish-

maker when she firstfound the piece. Wasshe supposed to returnit to that person,whomever he or shemightbe?Whatever. She put

the purse in a drawerand hung her dress inthe wardrobe, decidingshe would think aboutbothmatters later. Herproblems had stolen

away her peace longenough.Rightnow,herstomach demandedattention, rumbling adesire for Cook’s flakycroissantsanddeliciousmarmalade. If shecould throw on one ofPhoebe’s gowns quicklyenough, she might stillbeabletogetserved.Within ten minutes,

she reached theentrance to the

breakfastroom,pausingat the door when shefound she wasn’t theonly one eating late.Davidandhisfathersattogether at the table,plates pushed aside tomake room for a batchofpapersspreadinfrontofthem.Neithernoticedher, their nearlyidentical mops of hairbentovertheirwork.Insuchproximity,shesaw

that David’s locks wereapurerblackthaneventhe darkest of themarquess’s salt-and-pepperblend.Blacker than licorice,

she thought, warmthfloodingherbodyatthememory of “tasting” hishair, his skin, hismouth...He turned and said

something tohis father,giving her a better view

of his profile: theunmistakably noblenose and sensual curveofhismouth.Shelikedthe way his lower lipjutted forward just alittle, somehowpromising a talent forkissing--or maybe hernewpersonalknowledgehad suggested thatinterpretation.Hisgazeflittedtomeet

hers, and she realized

she’dbeenstaring.Nowhe stared back at her,slowlygettingupasshegathered her wits andsteppedintotheroom.The marquess looked

upwhen his son stood,following the line ofDavid’s gaze to theentrance way. Hesmiled and jumped topulloutanotherchairatthe table. “Goodmorning,MissCantrell.

I shall ring for moretea. This pot has gonecold, and David and Ineed fresh cups aswell.”The mention of

David’s name unlockedtheson’sgazefromhersto glance at his father.Whenhelookedbackatheragain,hegaveherastiff nod. “Goodmorning.”“Goodmorning.” She

let Lord Solebury helpher with her chair,smiling up at him.“Thankyou,mylord.”While she answered

her host’s politeinquiries into her rest,servantsbustledinwithhot tea, wonderfullyaromatic croissants andbig, crimsonstrawberries.“I’m sorry I

interrupted your

meeting,” she said toher companions,noticing David hadbegun scooping papersinto a leather portfolio.She spooned what shehoped might pass for aladylike portion of fruitonto her plate. “Pleasedon’t let me keep youfromyourdiscussion.”“We have discussed

enough for onemorning.” Lord

Soleburypouredhimselfacupoftea,thenpulledout apocketwatchandflipped open the hingedcover. “By Jove, timepasses quickly whenoneisengagedusefully.My son is teaching metoemploymywits,MissCantrell. Who wouldhave suspectedplanning andpreparation might offerso much

entertainment?”“Even when you’re

planning how you cankeep Napoleon at bay?”she asked, treatingherself to a dash ofcream on herstrawberries.In her peripheral

vision, she saw themarquess look at hisson with raisedeyebrows. David gavehimabarelyperceptible

shakeofthehead.She grinned. “I see.

I’m only a woman andnotprivytocomplicatedmale pursuits likemilitary strategy. Well,no thanks, anyway. Asfar as I’m concerned,war is one male-dominated arena wewomenshouldn’tbotherinfiltrating.” RecallingDavidhadserved inthemilitary, she sent him

an apologetic look. “Nooffenseintended.”He shrugged. “I have

my own compunctionsabout war--doubtlesslyoutnumbering yours.ThatisonereasonIsoldoutofmycommission.”His father took her

remarks more lightly,peeringoverthebrimofhisteacupwithcarefreeeyes. “Tell me, MissCantrell, what male

pursuits would you liketo infiltrate? Politics?Or a more recreationalarea, likemen’s clubs?Believe me, my dear,you ladies are missinglittle in being excludedfromsuchactivities.”“How about property

ownership?”Shesmiledto soften her words,pushing a strawberryintohermouth.“Women may own

property,” he said,“though I suspect youspeak of making theoccurrencecommonplace.”Shenodded.He looked to his son,

grinning.“WhataplaceAmerica must be, withall this free thinkingbandied about, eh,David?IthinkIshouldlike to visit the Statesmyselfsometime.”

“I had the very samethought.” David eyedLeah so intensely thatfor a second she forgottochew.The marquess leaned

back in his chair. “So,what do you youngpeople have in store fortoday? I don’t believemy wife has assignedyou any additionaltasks,soyourtimeisallyourown. Perhapsyou

might drive over to seethe ruins of the oldabbey. The building islittle more than a shellthese days, but thelocale affords a lovelyviewoftheChannel.”“Sounds wonderful,”

Leah said, excited bythe prospect of goinganywhere with David,let alone a picturesqueold abbey. “I love theidea of exploring ruins.

Where I come from, wedon’t have many, youknow.”Instead of smiling at

her little joke, Davidfrowned and looked athis father. “The abbeyisalsoentirelydeserted,isolated fromeverythingand everyone. WouldMiss Cantrell notrequire a chaperon forsuchanexcursion?”“Would she?” Lord

Solebury laughed. “Asher prospective escort,perhaps you are betterequipped to say, but Ishould think a younggentleman and ladymight fare well enoughalone on such a shortjourney and in an opencarriage.”David glanced at her

and looked away again,anactionthatmadehisreluctance clear. “An

opencarriagemightnotbeagood idea today. Ibelieve we can expectrainthisafternoon.”“But the sun is

shining,” she said,confusedbyhisexcuse-making. Then sherememberedhisconcernfor her “virtue” andrealized he must nottrusthimselfalonewithher--or maybe her withhim. She felt insulted

until she remindedherselfhewasaproductof another society.Couples in this agedidn’t just “hook up”--thoughshehadno ideahow their courtingrituals went. Peopleprobably didn’t evenkiss until they gotengaged.Well,shewasn’tabout

to sit back andwait forthat, a remote

possibilityatbest.She tiltedherhead to

onesideandcooed,“I’venever visited a ruinbefore. It must befascinating to look atthe remnants of anancient building andimagineitsoriginalglory...towonderaboutthepeople who worked onits construction andwhooncelivedwithinitswalls.”

His stoic expressionshowed he didn’t shareher enthusiasm. Heswallowed. “Perhapsanother day. I feel achange of weathercoming. An old injuryin my leg grieves mewhenever a storm isapproaching.”She looked to the

windows lining the farwallandsawthata fewclouds had gathered in

the last half-hour. Ameteorologist mighthave predictedotherwise but, in herestimation, the chanceof precipitationremainedslim.“You may be able to

do some exploringbefore the stormcomes,” Lord Soleburysaid. “I would judgethat you have quiteawhile before rain

cloudssetin.”“I am sure Miss

Cantrellwouldnotwanttochancegettingcaughtin a downpour.” Davidlooked into his cup,reached for the teapotand poured himselfanother serving. “Theabbey is too dilapidatedtoafford shelter againsttheelements.”“You are free to take

my barouche again.”

The marquess watchedhis son with the intentgaze that ran in thefamily.“Youcanrideonthe box while theweather holds and takeshelter inside later, ifneedbe.”“Abaroucheisnotthe

idealplacetobetrappedinthemiddleofastorm,either.” The quicknessof David’s answerannounced he had no

intention ofreconsidering.“Depends on whom

one is trapped with.”Lord Solebury grinned,but his amusementfadedwhenhelookedtoLeah.“Forgiveme,MissCantrell. I simplycannot understand whymy son resists such acharmingscheme.”She waved off his

apology and decided to

show David somemercy, too. “Nevermind. We can goanother day, when hisleg isn’t botheringhim.Then we’ll be able toexplore the ruins morethoroughly.”The marquess looked

disappointed for her,butifhemeanttoarguefurther, the arrival ofthe butler preventedhim.

The stately, gray-haired servant stoppedjustwithinthedoorway,bowing deeply to hisemployer. “I begpardon, your lordship,but Viscount Langstonand his lady havestopped to call on theirway to London. Hislordship apologizes forthe early hour of hisvisit. He says he willwait on you another

time,ifyouareoccupiedatthemoment.”“Langstonandhiswife

are here?” LordSolebury broke into abroad smile. “What apleasant surprise. Ishall go to themdirectly,Domfrey. Haveyou shown them to thedrawingroom?”“Indeed,sir.”“Have some

refreshments brought

in,and tell themIshallbe there in but amoment.” Themarquess looked toDavid. “Do youremember LordLangston, David? Ibelieve you met himonce or twice manyyearsago.”Henodded slowly,his

expressive lower lipcurling.“HeisWilliam’sgodfather.”

LordSoleburymadeaface. “So he is, but Ishould likehimtosee Ihave one son with agood head on hisshoulders. You willcomeandgreethimwithme,Ihope?”The V-like slant of

David’s eyebrowssmoothed into an archofsurprise.HedartedalookatLeah.She smiled, nodding

herencouragement.“I hope you will join

us as well, MissCantrell,” the marquessadded.“Clearly,mywifecannot act as hostess,and I should like yourassistance.”“I’dbehonored.” She

got up, compelling thementofollowsuit--abitof chivalry she hadalready grown to like.No cause for finding

such manners sexist,she reasoned, as awoman could show amanthesamecourtesy.Asamatter of fact, shewould do so herself atthenextopportunity.She took the arm the

marquess proffered,turningtogivehissonahopefulsmile.Hedidn’tsmile back, but hefollowed their leadthrough the hall to the

drawingroom.Viscount Langston

lookedalittleolderthanhis friend, in his mid-fifties, maybe, withthinning light brownhair and a slightpaunch. Hiswifemusthave been about tenyears younger, withshort-cropped, tawnycurls and a matronlybuild.Leahdecidedsheliked both of them as

soon as she saw howfriendly theywerewhenthe marquessreintroduced them toDavid.Theygreetedherwith just as muchwarmth, adding to thegoodimpression.After a flurry of

inquiries into variouspeople’s health, mostnotably Phoebe’s,everyone settled downwith England’s

omnipresenttea.“What a lovely

surpriseyourcallingis,”the marquess said,reclining in a stuffedarmchair. “SoleburyHouse is a bit off theroute between yourcountry seat andLondon.”“Notatall. What isa

fewmilesofaddedtravelwhere friends areconcerned?” Lord

Langston paused, hissmile ebbing into soberlines.Heglancedatthefaces around the room,setting down his cupandsaucer.“Actually,Ihave a specificmatter Iwish to discuss withyou, Harold. Butperhaps you would liketospeakinprivate?”“What sort of

matter?” Themarquessleaned forward, resting

his elbows on hisknees. “A businessconcern?”His friend fidgeted,

sitting up straighter onthe settee he and hiswife shared. “I wishedto talk to you aboutWilliam.”“Ah, I see.” Lord

Solebury sighed. “Well,you may as well speakfreely. David knowswhattroublehisbrother

is, and the ladies arelikely to learnsoonerorlater . . . unless ofcourse, the boy hasdonesomethingunfitfortheirears.”“No, nothing quite so

dreadful.” LordLangston took a deepbreath. “Relativelyminor, perhaps, and Ihate to bear tales, buthe is my godson, so Ifeel a certain

responsibility to try topromotehiswelfare.”“Rightly so,” the

marquess said, whileLeah’s curiosity grew.She glanced at David,who wound his pocketwatch with anabsorption she thoughtfeigned. He didn’tnormally hide hisresentment for his halfbrotherquitesowell.“Well, first, I

happened upon Williamat Tattersall’s the otherweek,” Lord Langstonsaid, looking his friendin the eye. “The lasttimeIspoketoyou,youmentioned hisstraitened finances, soyou can imagine mysurprise upon learninghe had purchased aprimeteamofgrays.”Lord Solebury’s jaw

dropped visibly. “A

teamofgrays?”Langston nodded. “I

thought you might beunaware of theacquisition.”“Indeed.” The

marquess stood andwenttothewindow,hisslumping shouldersleadingLeahtowishshehadn’t been allowed towitnesstheconversationafter all. Shesympathized with Lord

Solebury, with one sonwho resented himbitterlyandanotherwhoshowedhimnorespect.After staring outside

for a long moment, heturned back to theothers. “Well, youwereright to inform me ofthis,John.Theboyhasno business makingthatsortofpurchase inhiscircumstances.AndI don’t suppose he has

soldoffanyoftheotherbloodhehaspurchasedinthepastyear?”The viscount rose as

well, joininghimby thewindow.“No,andIfearthere is more to thestory. The very nextday, news of a certaincarriage race spreadquicklyintheclubs.”“So he means to race

now?” The marquessthrew his hands up in

the air. “And whyshould that surpriseme? Any pursuit thatprovides an opportunityfor gaming is likely toattract the youngjackanapes.”The viscount pressed

his palms together,placing his thumbsagainst his chin. “Thisparticular race hadalready taken place, Iamafraid. Now, letme

assure you William isunharmed, but I amsorry to say he had anaccident, in which heoverturnedhiscarriage.The grays did not fareas well as the driver.Two horses had to bedestroyed.”Lord Solebury’s face

went ashen, thenreddened in obviousrage. When he spokeagain, his voice

cracked. “Those poor,hapless animals. Theboy demonstrates acomplete lack ofresponsibility at everyturn! Well, I supposethere isnothingelse forit: I shall have to go toLondon.”Silence fell over the

group, as everyonestared blindly atdifferent points aroundtheroom.

At last David clearedhis throat, statingquietly, “Lady Soleburywill be highly upset.She won’t want you toleaveheratthistime.”“True.”Hisfatherran

a hand through hishair. “But I canseenoother way to deal withWilliam. I will leaveimmediately and makethe trip as brief aspossible, returning as

soon as I can dragWilliam’s wretchedcarcass homewithme.Phoebe does not expectto be confined foranothermonthyet.”But Leah knew his

going could upsetPhoebe enough toendanger her and herbaby. She lookedaround at all the grimfaces and could telleveryone else thought

the same. David, inparticular, lookedagitated, shifting in hischair and tapping hisfoot on the highlypolishedwoodenfloor.Finally, he glanced at

Leah, then stood andstepped toward hisfather. “I shall go inyourstead.”“Youwill?” Every line

of worry on themarquess’s face

transformed to showastonishment.“You cannot possibly

leave Phoebenow. Youknow how your goingwould affect her. Ofcourse, I don’t knowhow much I canaccomplish withWilliam, but I daresay Imay proceed as well asyouwouldhavedone.”“Oh, yes. Indeed,

David.” His father

actuallylookedhopeful.“You are his olderbrother, after all, andnearly a decade hissenior. Older brothersincur a good deal ofrespect,oftenmorethanafather.”“I doubt that holds

true in my case. All Ican promise is tomakethe effort.” His gazetraveled to Leah again,this time adhering to

hers. He twisted hismouth. “I will returnwithin a day or two. Iwill try to . . . I wish Ididnothaveto...”He stopped in

midsentence andglanced about theroom, obviouslythinking twice aboutexpressing his thoughtsin front of the others.But stopping onlyincited a flurry of

speculative looks--thevisiting coupleexchanging glances andthe marquess studyinghissonclosely.Leah felt sure they

would all conclude sheandDavidwerecarryingon some sort ofcourtship. She smiledatthethought,notsurewhethertheirconjecturehadanyvalidityornot.A single kiss,

unfortunately, did notconstitute a courtship--especially when oneparticipant seemeddetermined to avoid asecondone.Then again, the other

participanthaddifferentideas.“Why don’t you take

MissCantrellwithyou?”the marquesssuggested. “WithPhoebe abed and you

away,shewillhavelittletoentertainherhere.”David’s eyes rounded

in an expression thatlooked moreapprehensive thansurprised. “My lord,this journeywill requireat least one overnightstay,perhapsmore.Weare no longer speakingofanhour’sdrivetoseea local abbey. Properchaperonage would be

necessary.”“I can provide that,”

Lady Langston chimedin. Her sly grinconfirmed that shesuspected buddingromance. “If you twotravelwithus,allwillbeperfectlyunexceptional.In fact, if youchoose toremain in London, weshouldbehappytohaveyou stay with us.Wouldwenot,John?”

“Certainly,” LordLangston said. “For aslongasyoulike.”“Then everything is

settled.” ThemarquesssmiledatLeah.“Shouldyou like to go to town,dear?”She looked at David,

whowatchedherwithadour face. Obviously,he didn’t want her togo. But the alternativemeant sitting in

SoleburyHouseforwho-knew-how-many days,probably not evenallowedoutalone forsomuchasawalk.“I’dloveto,”shesaid.

She grinned at David.“ShallIbeginpacking?”

CHAPTERTWELVE“I am perfectly fine

hereonthebox.”Daviddrew the reins into onehand and wiped adroplet of rain from thebridge of his nose.“Now,forheaven’ssake,pull your head insidethe carriage and closethe window. If theLangstons look backand see your antics,

they will conclude youbelonginBedlam.”His choice of words

had been unfortunate,but Leah showed no illreaction. “This rain iscold, David. Why don’tyou let the tiger takeover driving? He’sdressed for theweather.”He sniffled, beginning

to suffer the effects ofthe damp air. But he

intended to avoid anytête-à-tête encounterwithher thathecould.The indiscretion at thegate house had shownhowlittlehecouldtrusthimself.“Perhapslater.I don’t mind a bit ofdrizzle.”“Oh, come on. What

are you afraid I’ll do--biteyou?”She giggled, and he

marveledthatshecouldpossibly find theirsituationamusing. Butthen, she had exhibitednoneofthemortificationhe had expected to seeafter she’d had time toreflect on the previousnight’s imprudence.Lord,hehopedshesoonregained not only hermemories but hercommon sense. Heseverely doubted he

possessed enough forbothofthem.“Okay,”shesaidwhen

he failed to respond toher quizzing. “If you’redetermined to catchpneumonia, I guess Ican’t stop you. But Ithink you’re foolish . . .doubly so, consideringthere won’t be anypenicillintotreatyou.”After that bit of

gammon, she pulled

herself inside, leavinghim alone with hisworries. He had doneall he could to avoidbringing her with him,even applied to poorPhoebe with argumentsabout propriety. Butthe marchioness sawnothing untoward intheir following theLangstons on anovernight journey. Sheeven speculated that

seeing London mighthelpLeahrevivesomeofherlostmemories,sinceshe had been theredirectly before heraccident. If so, hewouldbethehappiestofanyone. But wouldPhoebestillhavefavoredLeah’s traveling withhim if she knew howclose he had come toruining the girl?Hardly.

He pulled ahandkerchief out of hispocket and blew hisnose. Next time,preventing such adisastermightnotproveaseasy,especiallysincetheirchaperonshowedadisposition formatchmaking. Duringtheir stop for lunch,Lady Langston hadmade sureheandLeahsat side-by-side, even

concocted excuses toleave them alone whileshe “helped” herhusband oversee aminor carriage repair.Solebury’s eagerness toincludeLeahonthetripmust have misled theviscountess to believethat he, David, hadpermission to press hissuit. Her ladyshipwould feel quitedifferentlyifsherealized

Leah’s father knewnothing of herwhereabouts.Leah’s father. What

would he think if hecould see his daughternow, practically leftalonetothedevicesofabaseborn scoundrel?David cringed at theself-chosenslur,buthisbehavior at the gatehouse had proved he

couldn’teven feigngoodbreeding. The bone-chilling rain thatdripped down on hishead served him right,fit recrimination for aman incapable ofcooling the fires of hisill-begottenblood.“Looks as though

they’ve found an inn,”Leah called from theback. A peek over hisshoulder revealed her

leaning out of thebaroucheagain.After a glance

heavenward, he lookedforward and saw theLangstons’ tigermotioning theirintentiontostop.Aheadon the road, a smallcountryinnappearedinthe mist. A grove oftrees provided acharming backdrop foran otherwise

unremarkableestablishment. Thegarden had fallen toovergrowth, and ashutterflappedlooseona front window. Butwisps of white smokerosefromthechimneys,marking warm fireswithin. Atthemoment,the prospect of a cozyhearth appealed to himmore than sumptuousquarters.

He pulled up behindthe lead carriage andhandedafewcoinstoaboy who stood ready totake their bags. Afterescorting Leah insideanddepositingherbyafireplace in the dininghall,hereturnedto joinLord Langston in thefoyer.“Ihavesecuredameal

in a private parlor, aswell as rooms for the

night,” his lordshipinformedhim.“Wewerefortunate enough toacquire the lastchambers available.The servantswill share,ofcourse.”“Thank you for

tending to thearrangements.” Daviddug into his pocket formoney, but LordLangstonreachedouttostophim.

“Putyourbluntaway.Your father gave mefunds to coveraccommodationsforyouandMissCantrell.”The usual surge of

resentment rose in hisgut. But before Davidcould insist on payinghis own shot, theviscount placed asoothing hand on hisshoulder.“Yourfatherknewyou

wouldnotacceptmoneyfrom him, but you aremaking this journey onhisbehalf.”WhenDavidsaid nothing, hislordship lifted hiseyebrows. “Even youmustadmitthatvisitingWilliam will hold nopleasureforyou.”He snorted, an

involuntaryacknowledgmentofLord

Langston’s point. Buton furtherconsideration, he sawnoreasontoargue.Hewouldnottakehisprideto unreasonablelengths. After all, thefunds gained fromselling his armycommission would notlast forever, and hisimporting investmentshad not yet begun toturnaprofit.

“Whatever suitsSolebury,”hesaid.The viscount clapped

him on the back. “Letus collect the ladies,then, and escort themupstairs to dress fordinner.”Davidagreed,eagerto

cast off his rain-drenched apparel--andthe awkwardencounter. He wouldhave been better

prepared to deal withanimosity thanwith thecompassion of hisfather’s friend.Somehow, it left himdefenseless.When he had helped

the viscount see theladiessettled,heretiredtohisownquartersandpeeled off his clammylinenshirtandbuckskinbreeches. The fire inthe room had not yet

been lit, and the chillyair prompted him totowel dry quickly andscamper into freshclothes. He had justsqueezed a foot backinto one of his soddenHessian boots when aknock sounded at thedoor--hopefullysignalingthearrivalofaservantwithwood.“Yes?” he called,

balancing on one leg

while he struggled topullontheotherboot.“Is that you, David?”

Leah’s voice carried infrom the hall. “Can Icomein?”The mere thought of

her entering hischamber pitched himforward so he had tobrace himself with bothhands on the scarredwoodenfloor.Undernocircumstances could

she come into his roomand retainrespectability--butespecially not with himin his shirtsleeves andstockingfeet.“I am . . . not

presentable at themoment.”Hethoughthehearda

muffled giggle--and,certainly, he would notputtheimproprietypasther. Jamming his foot

intothesecondboot,heinched closer to thedoor.“What in creation

brings you here?” hehissed through thecrackbetweendoorandframe. He hastened totuck in his shirt, as ifshe might actually beable see his state ofdeshabille through thewood.“Unlessyouhave

some urgent matter todiscuss,yououghttobedressing for dinner.Now, please return toyourownquarters.”“I’m finished

dressing,” came hermuted response. “Andmy room is so cold, Icouldn’t stand it. Ithrew on my dinnerdress and got out ofthereasfastasIcould.”“Well,youwillhaveto

return.” He feared shewould refuse to heedhim and snatched hiswaistcoat from the bed,shrugging into thegarment. “When I ampresentable, I’ll fetchyouandaccompanyyoudowntothedininghall.”She hesitated. “How

longwillyoube?”He ran a hand

through his damp hair,stepping aside to

glimpsehis reflection ina glass hanging abovethe small dressingtable. He did not dareask for a reasonableamount of time. “Allowmefiveminutes.”“Okay, but meet me

downstairs, anyway.That big fire in thedining hall is calling tome. See you in a fewminutes.”“Leah, you cannot go

downstairs alone!” Hefumbled with the latchand opened the door,but she had alreadygone. Poking his headinto the hall, he spiedher turning into thestaircase.“Devil take it!” He

pulled back into hischamber. Thanks toher, he would have toappear below with wethair and a hastily tied

cravat.Hemastered a simple

knot for the latter andsnatchedhisjacketfromthe singlewooden chairin the room. Hefinished his rushedtoilette while hurryingthrough the hall anddown to the groundfloor.Leah sat with the

innkeeper’s wife on abench before the fire, a

smileonher faceandasteaming tin cup inherhands.Shespottedhimapproaching the hearthand stood, holding outherdrinktowardhim.“Oh, David,” she

uttered in a tone ofrapture. “Just waituntilyoutrythismulledwine! I couldn’t haveasked forabetterdrinkto warm me up. Here,trysome.”

Her artlessnessdisarmed him, and hetook the cup withoutthinking. She noddedher encouragement forhimtosamplethewine.He could not seem tolook away from hersparkling eyes as helifted the cup,wondering if her lipshad grazed the samespothisownwould.Cinnamon-and clove-

scented steam waftedfrom the drink, and hismouth watered evenbefore the sweet, apple-tingedwinewashedoverhis tongue. His bodyseemed to fill withwarmth, spurredby theluscious drink, theblazing fire and theflickering flames inLeah’seyes.“Heavenly,” he heard

himselfsay.

She beamed andturned to the landlady.“Can we have anotherone, Mrs. King? Makethattwomore.Thisoneisgoingquickly.”The grandmotherly

woman smiled andscurried toward thekitchen. David heldLeah’swinebackout toher, but she shook herhead.

“Drink some more.I’ve already had half acup.” She reseatedherself on the bench,patting the spot besideher. “Isn’t this inncharming? I love thisbig, stone fireplace andthewizenedoldwoodofthe furniture. How olddo you suppose theplaceis?”He sat down, taking

another sip of the spicy

confection.Thefeaturesshe indicated could notbe called unusual, butwithhisfeetwarmingbythe fire and a beautifulwoman beside him, he,too,felttheallureofthecountry setting.“Several hundred years,Idaresay.Butyoumaynot find the buildingquitesodelightfulwhenyouareconfinedtoyourchamber again tonight.

Old inns are notoriousfordrafts.”“But the servants will

light fires in our roomsbefore we go to bed,won’t they?” Sheshivered and leanedclosertotheflames. “Ifnot,Imayhavetosleepdownhere.”“I shall make a point

to address theinnkeeper on thematter,” he said,

praying she only jestedabout bedding down inthedininghall.Suddenly, she looked

at him with mischiefdancing in her eyes.“Wouldn’t it bewonderful if a wholebuildingcouldbeheatedby a single, powerfulmachine, centrallylocated, say, in thecellar?”He stiffened,

recognizing thehypothesis for one ofher fantasies about afutureworld. For somefoolish reason, heelected to debate her.“Howcouldenoughheatfor an entireconstructionpossiblybegenerated in one area?Thebuildingitselfwouldcatchonfire.”“A fuel,similar to . . .

lamp oil, could be

burnedtoproduceheat,whileaself-poweredfanwouldpropelthehotairthrough ducts runningto all the rooms.” Shetookhiscupandsippedthe mulled wine,watchinghisfacewithagrin.“Nonsense,” he said.

“How would the fanpoweritself?”“With electricity, like

the lightning you see

during athunderstorm.” Shehanded him back thewine. “You have therest. There’s only a sipleft.”He took the cup

absently. “And howwould one harness theenergy of a lightningbolt?”She shrugged. “I

believe a lightning boltitself is too volatile to

control. The electricitycomes from variousother sources, toocomplicated for me toexplain--or evenunderstand. What amI--anengineer?”“You are a young

woman with an activeimaginationandabumpsomewhere on herhead,” he said. Hecould only hope Phoebeproved right in

venturingthataLondonvisitmighthelpuncloudLeah’s mind. “Even ifyou have no visibleevidence of injury, I amcertainyouhaveone.”“Thenwemake a fine

pair: I with an invisiblebump on my head andyou with an invisiblechiponyourshoulder.”She paired herobservation with asmile. “Here comes the

landlady with moremulled wine. Finishthatoneup.”The Langstons chose

that moment to appearaswell, soheandLeahcarried their wine withthem into the privatedining parlor theviscount had reserved.Furnished with only acrude trestle table andbenches, the roomafforded little comfort.

A good-sized blazeburned in the hearth,but the air was toochillyforittohavebeenlitlong.“I apologize for the

inferioraccommodations,” LordLangston said as theysettled at the table.“With the rain comingsosteadily,mywifeandI thought we shouldstophereratherthango

on to the innwhere weusually stay. I hadnotrealized quite how littlethis establishment hastooffer.”“Whatever the inn

lacks in luxury ismadeup for in character,”Leah said, once againseated beside David.She gazed up at thecobwebbed beamssupporting the ceiling,then around at the

rather small windowscurrently pelted byrain. “Everything is soquaint. And if the foodis anywhere near asgood as the mulledwine, we’re in for atreat.”Asthoughoncue,the

landlady entered with astonewarepitcherofthesteaming drink. Leahurged the Langstons tofill their cups and had

Davidpouringhimselfathird serving scarcelybefore he had finishedthe second. Herenthusiasmledthemallto down several cupsbeforeany foodcametothe table. As a result,theygrewquiteamerryparty.When serving girls

brought out freshlybakedsourdoughbread,Leah declared she had

nevertastedbetter.Andduring dinner, shepraised each course,entranced by offeringsas simple as Yorkshirepudding.LordandLadyLangston laughed overherappreciation,clearlyas taken with Leah asshe appeared with thefood. Indeed, herenjoyment had acontagious quality, andDavid found himself

savoringthesimplefare--as well as the warmcompany--greater thanhe had at any dinnerpartyherecalled.When the viscount

and his wife got up toretire,he felt as thoughhe had been dousedwithcoldwater.“So early?” he asked,

standing automatically.An instant of dizzinesssurprised him. The

wine had affected himmore than he realized.“Will you not stay foronemoredrink?”“If you check your

watch, youwill find thehour is not so early, atleast not when one isscheduled to travel inthe morning,” LordLangston said. He andhis wife exchangedamusedlooks.“Butyouyoungpeoplehavemore

stamina than we. Feelfree to linger over yourwine.”Brilliant. Now the

viscount had taken upmatchmaking as well.David stole a glance atLeah, who smiled inreturn, her eyes andhair glittering in thefirelight.“Wehadbestretireas

well, Le--er, Miss

Cantrell,”hesaid. “We,too, must rise early inthemorning.”“Can we stay for just

one more drink?” sheasked with anirrepressiblesmile.Buthecouldnotstay-

-not without longing,painfully, to repeat thepreviousnight’sshame.“I have had too muchalready. Come. I willescort you to your

chamber.”Thus the party filed

upstairs together. TheLangstons bade a quickgoodnight anddisappeared into theirrooms, leaving Davidand Leah alone in thehall. He unlocked herdoor for her, glancedinside to ensure theabsence of intruders,then handed her thekey.

Shelookedupathim,still smiling, her eyesfocused tightly on his.Hisgazedroppedtoherlips, beautifully formedand ripe for kissing.Could he not simplybestow one briefgoodnight kiss on thoselips?No.Heknewhecould

not without demandingmore. And he had no

right to even a singlekiss.He turned away,

tossing over hisshoulder, “Goodnight.Lock your door behindyou.”Without looking back,

hewenttohischamber.Ten minutes later, he

lay wide-eyed in thedark. A small fireburned, but the roomretainedachill,andthe

narrowsinglebedmadehis back ache. Theroom also contained asecond bunk, but itappeared as lumpy astheonehehadchosen.A soft knock sounded

at the door. Stunned,hefrozeinplace.The knock repeated,

this time followed by awhisper.“David, it’s me. Are

youawake?”

Good Lord! She wasready for Bedlam. Ifanyone sawher outsidehisdooratthishour...He tossed off the

coversandthrewonhisdressing gown. Hastilyunlatching the door, hescanned the emptycorridor and pulled herinside by the arm. Hetried to rein in hispanic, closing the doorquickly but quietly.

Only then did he allowhimself to look at her,draped only in hernightrail and wrapper.The lantern she heldcast alluring shadowsoverherbody.“What is themeaning

ofthis?”hehissed.“Areyou well and trulymad?”Shewinced.“Iknow.

I know I shouldn’t behere. But, David, the

ceiling in my roomleaks--not in one spotbut several! The worstleakisdrippingrightonthe bed, and themattress is soakedthrough.”Hecouldonlystare.“Honestly, David, I

wasgoingtotrytosleeponthefloorinstead,butthat’s wet, too, and theroom is freezing. I’venever seen such a

measly fire.” Shewalkedtowardthesmallblaze in his hearth andheld her palms out toit. “Mine’s not even asgoodasthisone.”There could be no

doubt of her distressand, he admitted, shehad cause to bedisturbed. He tried tothink what to do, hiswine-addled mindchurning slowly. He

would have to offer herhis room--but thenwhere would he sleep?He had a choice oftakingoverhercold,wetroom or sleeping withthe servants, probablyin the same bed withone. Not a pleasingprospect.“I shall take your

room,andyoucanhavemine,” he said. Truly,he saw no alternative.

“If anyone notices, wecan explain. I believewe have good cause fortheswitch.”“You can’t sleep in

there.” She turnedaround, keeping herback close to thefireplace. “Even if youfind a dry spot on thefloor, the puddles arebound to spread into itby morning. The rainstillisn’tlettingup.”

He frowned, rubbinghischininthought.Nonew alternatives cametohim.“Look, there are two

beds here,” she said,pointing to the emptybunk. “It’s not like wehave to sleep in thesameone.”He blinked at her. “I

shouldthinknot.”She sighed, shaking

her head. “If only you

understood howdifferent things are . . .whereIcomefrom.”Naturally, she meant

not where but when.He crossed his armsoverhischest.“What would be so

wrongaboutmystayinghere? What would bewrong, even if we . . .”She trailed off, leavinghim to fill in the blank

withadozen tantalizingthoughts.What would be

wrong? Everything . . .or not a thing in theworld. He let his gazewander down over hersilk-encased body,remembering howslender and pliant shehad felt in his arms.Heat rose up his ownbody and haze over his

mind.“Never mind,” she

said, just when his willhad begun to crumble.“I respect your point ofview. You can haveyour side of the room,andIwillsticktomine.”She walked to the

spare bed, pulled downthe covers and fluffedup the pillow. “Ipromise not to doanything tocompromise

yourvirtue.”“Myvirtue?”“I will sneak back to

my room first thing inthe morning. No onewillknowIwashere.”He opened his mouth

but closed it again, nolonger certain whetherhewantedtoprotestherstaying or just herstaying in a separatebed. Unaccustomed to

extricating himself fromone muddle afteranother, he found thetask exhausting. Heweighedhisoptions.Hecouldsleepinafreezing,water-soaked room. Hecouldsleep in thesamebed with a poxyservant.Hecouldapplyto Lord and LadyLangston likeadamnedpest. He could ravishtheyoungwomanleftin

hischarge.The least troublesome

choice seemed to beaccepting thearrangements as theystood. If she failed toriseearlyandstealbackto her chamber, hewould go to the otherroom himself. He feltsure he would wakeearly,infactdoubtedhewould rest at all,knowing she lay only a

fewfeetaway.“Very well.” He went

to the door and turnedthe key in the lock,checkingtwicetoensurethe latch had caught.Refusing to look at her,he climbed into bed inhis dressing gown andturned his face to thewall.“Goodnight,”hesaid.Even in his agitated

state of mind, he made

one resolution:Chaperon or nochaperon, he and Leahwould make noovernight stops on thewaybackfromLondon.They would have totravel from the crack ofdawn until midnight todo so, but that hardlymattered.The sleep he would

sacrifice would amounttonomorethanwhathe

wouldlosetonight.

CHAPTERTHIRTEENDavidmusthavewoke

half a dozen timesbefore the thin light ofdawn finally filteredthrough his chamberwindow. A draft blewthroughacrackedpaneand chilled his face--nodoubt still flushed fromdreams of the womansharing his room. Allnight, his subconscious

mind had pulled Leahout of her bed and intohis . . .until he’dwakeagain and peer throughthe dark to spy hersleeping form, stillacrosstheroom.Hewantedhernowin

reality--wanted to wakeher gently, carry her tohis bed and damn theconsequences. Shewould come willinglythis very moment, he

thought, if only heasked her. Would heask her? He didn’tknow,butherolledovertowatchhersleepasheconsidered giving in totemptation.Herbedstoodempty.The sheets and

counterpane had beenneatly made up, thepillow fluffed toobliterate all hints ofuse. He scanned the

floor space next to thebed, searching for . . .what? A droppedhairpin, perhaps--anysign that she truly hadslept only a few pacesaway from him. Helooked to the closeddoor, then got up andlaid his palm on themattressofherbed.Allwarmth from her bodyhaddissipated.A shiver jarred him.

How cold the room hadgrownduringthenight!Andhowdullhissensesfelt, likely still soddenwith mulled wine. Heshould have beenrelieved that Leah hadescaped his chamberundetected.Instead,hefelt numb, strangelylifeless. The wine hadindeed plundered hissensibilities . . . all thebetterones,anyway.

He went to thedressing table andsplashed water on hisface, but his mindstrayed during thewhole time he shavedand dressed. Once hehad made himselfpresentable, breakfastseemed a reasonable--ifnot quite desired--aim,sohewanderedoutintothehall.As he neared Leah’s

door,heslowedhispacewhile his heartbeatquickened. Surely, heought to confirm shehad reached herchambersafely. Withaglance down both endsoftheemptycorridor,hetappedonthedoor.“Who is it?” her voice

sounded through thewood.Heclearedhisthroat.

“David.Areyoudre–are

you ready forbreakfast?”The door opened and

she stood before him,clear-eyed, smiling anddressed for travel.Behindher,themorningsun broke through theclouds and streamedthrough the window togrant her a halo-likeglow. Thecloudsinhishead lifted as well, andlife surged into his

senses.“Good morning.” Her

smile tilted, taking onanimpishair.“Didyousleepwell?”Hemeant to offer her

the reprove shedeservedforteasinghimbut could not resistreturning her grin.“Minx.CanIescortyoudownstairs?”“Please.” She joined

him in the hall, closing

and locking the door.But as they beganwalking, she stoppedagain.“Wait.Iwanttotake care of somethingwhilewe’realone.”She reached into her

reticule and removed agoldguinea,holdingthecoinouttohim.“Pleaseput this toward the billfor the inn. I’m sorry Ican’t give you more.Unfortunately,thisisall

themoneyIhave.”Hefrowned.“Icannot

take that coin. First ofall,aguineafarexceedsyour reckoning for theinn.Truly,yououghttofamiliarize yourself withEnglish money.Secondly, Solebury hasprovided financing forus, since we’veundertakenthisjourneyinhisstead.”“Oh.” She looked at

the guinea and back athim. “Well, would yoube willing to hold thisforme?I,uh.. .don’tquite feel safe travelingwith money on myperson.”He judged her

proposal a wise one,given her lack ofunderstanding for themonetary system.“Certainly.ShallIwriteyouanoteofreceipt?”

Shebroke intoagrin,waving off his offer.“Just take the damnedthing, so we can go tobreakfast.”Her swearing

surprised him. But asheacceptedthecoin,herecalled how oddly shehad behaved whenPhoebe returned theguinea they’d found inher pocket--this sameguinea, no doubt. He

glanced at it, frowning.“Why does this coinupsetyou?”The grin on her face

faded, replaced by awary look. “It’s theoneI told you about--theone I threw into thespring.”“The what?” He

thought back andgrimaced when heremembered what shehadsaid. “Theoneyou

claimyouusedtomakeyour‘inadvertentwish’?”She looked down at

thefloor.“Yes.”“Your storymakes no

sense, Leah. If youthrew this into thespring, how could youstill have it to give tome?”“I did throw it in,

twice.Oncerightbeforemy transport and againthe other night when I

tried to go back. Bothtimes,thecoinendedupinmypocketagain.”He shook his head.

“The truth isobvious tome. You never threwthis coin in the water.You dreamed the wholeepisode--imaginedtravelingthroughtime.”“And dreamed up a

whole lifetime ofexperiences?” she

asked,eyebrowsraised.“David, the things Icouldtellyouabout--”“I don’t want to hear

them.”Shestaredathim,lips

parted slightly, asthough she wasdeliberating whether tocontinue arguing. Atlast, she spoke, hervoice quiet. “You won’tevenlistentome?”He felt his resolve

weaken dangerously,but he refused toencourageher.Fixingaglare on her, he said,“No, I will not listen tononsense.”Herlowerlipquivered,

forcing his gaze to hermouth. Again, his willfaltered. Privately, helonged to still that lipwith kisses, to holdherbodyagainsthisandtellhershehadnoneedfor

false memories. Hewantedtoassureherhewould protect her fromwhatever had hurt herinhertruepast.But what kind of

protection couldhe giveher? He lacked thefinancial means to offerher marriage.Marriage!Howdaredheeven think of enteringthat blessed state with

her?Weddingabastardwould only open up awhole new realm ofproblemsforher.He clenched his fists,

infuriated by his owninadequacies. “Are youcoming to breakfastwithmeornot?”She jumped, and he

regretted how sharplyhe had spoken. Butbefore he could eventhink to apologize, she

rallied and lifted herchin.“Niceofyoutoofferto

escort someone full ofnonsense. But, thankyou all the same, Iprefer to find my ownway.” She turnedawayfrom him and stalkeddownthehall.Her show of vexation

startled him. Did sheactually expect him toacknowledge her

Banburytales?Ifso,hehad made no progressinconvincinghertofacereality.Spirits sinking, he

walked downstairs tothe dining hall andfound her alreadyseatedwiththeviscountandhiswife. He joinedthem, receiving a warmwelcome from Lord andLady Langston and amere nod from Leah.

Throughout the meal,shebarelyspokeawordto him, favoring theLangstons with all herconversation, exceptwhen a direct questionforcedhertorespondtoDavid.When they left the

inn, the weather hadturned fine, but shedeclinedhisinvitationtoride with him on thebox. All during the

seemingly endlessjourney, he waited forhertopokeherheadoutthe window and quizhim about the sceneryor his driving. Instead,she remained properlyinsideuptothemomentthey reached theLangstons’townhouse.As the viscount and

viscountess allottedtasks to the army ofservants waiting in the

front hall, DavidwatchedLeah climb thegrand staircase behinda footman who carriedherportmanteau.Whenshedisappeared

above, he shrugged tohimself and turnedaway from the stairs.As soon as his hostshad finished addressingthestaff,hesteppedupand informed them heintended to seek out

William.“So soon?” Her

ladyship’s eyebrowsrose. “You might atleast take the time tochange out of thosedusty traveling clothes.Weareinnohurrytoberid of you, you know,dear. Quite thecontrary.”An unaccustomed

warmth suffused hisface. Throughout his

adult life, he hadavoided contact withfriends of his father’s,never dreaming to gainacceptance fromsociety’s exalted ranks.The kindness of theLangstons astonishedhim.“Thankyou,mylady,”

hesputtered,“butImayas well have done withtheconfrontation.”Lord Langston’s brow

furrowed. “Perhaps themeeting need not be aconfrontation, son. Adiplomatic approachcould do much to aidyourcase.”“Solebury’s case, you

mean.” He tried tosmile but suspected heonly achieved a smirk.“And I fear I am notmuch of a diplomat.”His dealings with Leahprovedthat.

Lady Langston restedan index finger againsther chin, apparentlydevising her ownstrategy. She looked toherhusbandandasked,“Why don’t we inviteWilliam to dinner thisevening? Rather thanDavid’sstriding intotheboy’s quarters asthough hunting himdown,weshalltreathimas a guest. Once we

have softened him upwith food and wine, wemaybeabletoconvincehim to return toSolebury House of hisownaccord.”The viscountnodded.

“Yes.Lethisfathertakeonthetaskofreforminghim. We need only gethimhome.”“A splendid idea,”

David said, “and Iappreciateyoureffort to

save me an unpleasantduty. But from what Ihave heard, Williamkeeps a full socialcalendar. Even if he isfree, he is unlikely toaccept an invitation toseeme.”“Hehasnotvisitedhis

godparents in quitesome time, either,dear.” Lady Langstonsmiled. “Allow me toissue the invitation.

How can he turn downthe opportunity to dinewithhisgodparentsandhisbrother?”“Half brother.” David

remained unconvinced,buthelackedanywilltoargue for visitingWilliam on his own.“Butyoumay try if youlike.”She beamed at him,

immediately setting

about dispatching afootman to William’sbachelor quarters. ToDavid’s amazement, theservant returned withan affirmative reply.William had previousplans for the eveningbut could easilypostpone them untilafter dinner. He wouldbepleasedtoattendhisgodparents and hisbrother.

****“Viscount Traymore,”

the butler at LangstonHouse announced,bowing his way out ofthe drawing room asWilliam strode throughtheopendoubledoors.The young lord

brushed an invisiblespeck from his well-tailored coat, somehowtilting his aquiline noseupward even as he

looked down at theimpeccable bluesuperfine.Peacock, David

thought,scarcelyabletocredit they sharedpaternal lineage.Certainly, if he haddesiredevidenceoftheirkinship, he would havehad to look beyond thelad’sbabyblueeyesandstraw-colored locks.

But he made no suchsearch. Duringchildhood, William hadimpressed him as abrat, and by allaccounts, he had neveroutgrownthelabel.Though the viscount

had not occupied thesame room as his halfbrother for years, hetook in David with thesame ricocheting glancehe afforded the

furniture. Indeed, foramoment, a plushrecamier positioned offto the side won themajority of his notice.He floppeddownontheseat, peering out anadjacent window at thestreet below. “Mygodparents are stillmaking their toilette, Ipresume?”Davidremainedsitting

across the room,

undecided how muchcourtesy he wanted toextend his ill-manneredsibling. As he watchedLordWilliamstretchonelong leg across thecushions of therecamier, he curled hislip. “You presumecorrectly.Kindofyoutoaccept Lady Langston’sdinnerinvitation.”“Not much else to do

thistimeoftheevening,

and her ladyshipcontends I am overduefor a call. Imust say Iwasdeucedsurprisedtolearn you were stayinghere.” He continuedwatching out thewindow, his wonderapparentlynotsufficientenough to warrant eyecontactwithhisbrother.David made no

answer, and silenceloomedbetweenthetwo

men till the sound ofapproaching footstepsechoedinthehall.Bothlookedtowardthedoorsas a youthful parlormaid entered andcurtsieddeeply.“Beg pardon, sirs,”

she said in a voice thatsqueakedwith timidity.“Is there anything yourequire?”LordWilliamsweptan

assessing leer over her

trim figure, endingwitha grin and a wink. “Ican think of severalintriguing possibilities.But, for now, a goodmeasure of Langston’sbrandy would not goamiss. And bring onefor my esteemedbrother,willyou,love?”Her cheeks flushed

and she dropped hergaze. “Certainly, mylord.” She bobbed a

second curtsy andscurried to the doors,bumping into the jambinherhastetoexit.William laughed.

“Grace as well asbeauty!”Themaid flushedand

lowered her head,ducking quickly out oftheroom.“Well done,” David

said in a low tone.“Count yourself

fortunate if she returnswithyourbrandyatall.”“Seemed to me she

hopped to do mybidding.” Heedless ofhisbrother’sglower,theviscount reached intohis coat and pulled outanenameledsnuffbox.He held the trinket outin David’s generaldirection, lifting hiseyebrows in a mutequestion.

When David onlyglared, he shrugged,took a pinch, and putaway the box. “Iunderstand you havebeen rusticating atSolebury House thispastsennight.”The youth’s

insouciance outstrippedeven David’s scantexpectations for him.Herestrainedanurgetograb the little rogue by

the high points of hiscollarandshakehim.“Istayed at the gatehouse, not at themanor, and only for afewnights.”“Adayortwowiththe

newlyweds is enoughfor anyone.” Williamscratched at one of hislong sideburns, gazingback out the window.“Wise of you to escape

quickly, what with ourlovely stepmamanearingconfinement. Asqualling babe shouldadd charm to thehousehold. You won’tbe returning soon, Igather?”Though the young

manavoidedlookinghisway, a certainheightening of his toneledDavidtobelievehimmore interestedthanhe

caredtoreveal.“Actually, I will likely

set off for SoleburyHouseagaintomorrow.”At last he had the

viscount’s fullattention,even eliciting anarrowing of William’schildlike eyes. “Finallydecided the old man’sworthsomethingtoyou,eh? Well, if yourpockets are to let asbadly asmine, I cannot

faultyou.Imayhavetomake a visit to Kentsoonmyself.”“Iseeknomoneyfrom

themarquess.Youmayresteasyonthatscore.”Williamnoweyedhim

with open curiosity.“Then what couldpossibly keep you atSoleburyHouse?”Thesoundoffootsteps

in the hall again drewtheir notice toward the

doors. But instead ofthe little parlor maid,Leah stepped over thethreshold, resplendentin an emerald greengown thatmagnificentlycomplemented her hairandeyes.Hergazewentstraight to David, andshe crossed her armsover her chest,unwittinglyaccentuatingarevealing

decolletage.“David.” She pursed

her lips, apparently notnoticing William at hispost by the window.“Well, I guess sooner orlaterwehadtobealonetogether again. Shouldwe risk trying to hold aconversation, or wouldwe do better withoutwords?”The saucy pout she

gave him made him

wonder if she offeredkissingasanalternativetoconversing.Alowwhistlesounded

from the recamier,perhaps indicating thesame thought hadcrossedWilliam’smind.Before David couldthink how to respond,his brother rose,saunteringtothecenterofthedrawingroom.“Allowmetosaveyou

theinconvenienceofanytête-à-tête you don’tdesire,madam.”She started, letting

her arms drop to hersides.Davidgotup,dragging

himself forth for thehapless task ofintroducing her to theknave. “Miss Cantrell,allow me to presentViscount Traymore.

William, Miss LeahCantrell.”“A pleasure indeed.”

He scooped up herhand, bowing low tobrush his lips over herknuckles--agesturethatmade David ball hisfists. “How is it I havenever met you before,MissCantrell?Andyouand my brother are onsuch intimate terms. Inoticed you employed

hisgivenname.”David realized he

should have offeredbackground in theintroductions, but hefound himself loathe toreveal the least detailabout Leah to his halfbrother. He had nodesire to share theacquaintance with thejackanapes.Sincesomeexplanation seemed in

order, he said, “MissCantrell has beenstaying at SoleburyHouse.”“Ah, at Solebury

House. Isee.” Williamslidhimacunninggrin,then looked back toLeah.“Iwasjusttellingmy brother I mean tovisitSoleburysoon.”“Really?” She darted

a wondrous glance at

David and looked backto the viscount withadded sparkle in hereyes.“Whatasurprise.I mean, I’m sure yourfatherwillbepleased.”“You flatter me, Miss

Cantrell.” He flashedherabrilliantsmile,theone attribute in whichhe most closelyresembled his father.“WillyoubereturningtoKentwithmybrother?”

“I expect so.” Sheglanced at David asthough she thought hemight contradict her,but he simply returnedhergaze.“Indeed?” William’s

grin widened. “Howmerry you must all bewith such a partystaying at the estate. Ishall have to makearrangements to joinyou as soon as

possible.PerhapsImayeven be able toreschedule a fewappointments anddepart with youtomorrow.”David clenched his

teeth, noting that theviscount’s concernabout the coming babehad vanished quicklyonce Leah entered thepicture. If Williamwantedtojointhem,his

only reason could be ahope of insinuatinghimself with her. Asmany qualms as Davidhad about being on theroadalonewithher,thethought of his brotherinfiltrating the partyenragedhim.He glanced at Leah,

acknowledging shelookedlovelierthaneverdressed in her formalregalia. The twinkle in

her eyes indicated hermood had lightened,andhefeltastabofrawjealousy that William’spresence had lifted thespirits he, David, hadblackened earlier. Thethought of his brother’scourting her made himill--especially when heconsidered how eligiblea suitor the handsomeyoung heir might bejudged.

“Weleaveatdawn,”hesaid through a rigidjaw. If he coulddiscourageWilliam fromtraveling with them,that would keep himaway for a few extradays. When theviscount did arrive atSolebury House, Davidcould only hope hisfather’s anger stillstood. A disgraced sonathomewouldnothold

somuchappealforLeahas the London dandymakinguptoherhere.“At dawn?” The

viscount appearedastounded. “Can I notpersuade you to delayyourdeparturetoalessungodly hour? Ishouldn’t think youwould be quite soanxious to see ourdearfatheragain.”“We must make the

journeyinasingleday,”David said. “LadyLangston traveled herewith us, but since shewill remain in London,Miss Cantrell no longerhasachaperon.”“Indeed?” William

looked to Leah andrubbedhischin. “Well,isn’t that . . . a pity. Icannot tell you howmuchIwishImightaddtoyoursecuritywithmy

escort, Miss Cantrell.Unfortunately, I haveobligations this eveningthatare liketokeepmeoutpastdawn.”“I understand,” she

said with a hint of asmile that added toDavid’s resentment ofhisbrother.“Her security is well

assured,” he snapped,then feltawaveof guiltasherecalledhowclose

hehadcometotryingtolure her into his bedthat morning. If hetruly wanted to protecther,hewoulddowelltoguard her againsthimself. Maintaining acertain detachmentbetween themwould bethe kindest service hecoulddoforher.Thesoundofvoicesin

the hall announced theapproachoftheirhosts.

While the Langstonswelcomed their godsonwith polite reserve, theparlormaidenteredandslippedthetwobrotherstheir brandy. Davidsurmised she haddelayedherreturnuntilher employers’ entranceprovided a diversion forWilliam. Hesympathized with thegirl, but she dashedaway before he could

even thank her for thedrink.After the Langstons

and William hadexchanged greetings,thepartymovedintothedining room. Davidfound himself seated inhis usual place besideLeah, William acrossfrom them and theirhostsateitherend.“Ihopeyoudon’tmind

our dining en famille,”the viscountess said.“The nice thing aboutsittingdownwithsuchasmall group is that anyconversation mustinclude everyone at thetable.”“Much preferable to a

large party.” Williamleaned back to allow aservant to place soupbefore him. “Forinstance, in a larger

group, I could not quizMissCantrell about heraccent, as I am notseatednexttoher. Buthere I am free to speakto anyone. May I askwhere you acquiredsuch uniquearticulation, MissCantrell?”“She is anAmerican,”

David said, irritated byhis brother’s simperingsmile.

“Truly?” William’sgazenever lefther face,as though she ratherthan his brother hadanswered.“Ihavenevermet an Americanbefore! Pray,tellmeallaboutlifeintheStates.”She laughed, though

David willed she mightsneer at the stalequestion.“Allaboutit?Well,let

me see if I can sumuptheAmericanexperiencein a few words. Wespeak the samelanguage you do, onlywe try to pronounceevery syllable verycarefully. We drinkcoffee instead of tea.We’re very casual,whereas you’re moreformal. And our senseof humor isn’t so dry--

norsowitty,Ithink.”“Youthinkusclever?”

Williamshothisbrotheran expression ofexaggerated surprise.“Do you hear that,David?Weshallhavetobe very amusing duringdinner tonight. Wewould not want todisabuse Miss Cantrellof her flatteringestimation of ourcountrymen.”

He bristled, only tooaware he had no talentfor social banter.Perhaps William hadintended to point outthat fact. He tried tothink of a poignantretort,butnothingcameto him. Not since thetauntings of his earlyschooldays had he feltsoinadequatetomeetachallenge.While he sat dumb,

William turned hischarms on his hosts,complimentingeverything from thesouptoLadyLangston’sgown to a carriageLordLangston had recentlypurchased. The praisehadnoevidenteffectonhis godparents, as theycontinued to treat himwith civility but noappearance ofpartiality. Perhaps

sensing his lack ofheadway, Williamrefocused his attentiononLeah.“Tell me, Miss

Cantrell,” he asked asthe servants collectedsoup plates, “how longwill you be visitingSoleburyHouse?”“I really can’t say.”

She dabbed at her lipswith a napkin.“Probablyaslongasthe

marchioness will haveme.”“Then you must be

enjoying yourself.” Hisgaze stole towardDavidand flittedback toher.“But surely you areimpatienttogetbacktoyour betrothed? I hopeyou will pardon myasking, but I could nothelp but notice yourring.”

As on the firstoccasion she had beenquizzed on the subject,she looked at her handwith something likesurprise. But herensuing reply differedgreatlyfrombefore.“Oh, this? This isn’t

an engagement ring.Not at all. In fact, I’vebeenmeaning toget ridofit.You’renotthefirstone to mistake its

significance,and Idon’twant people thinkingI’munavailable.”David shot a stunned

look at her, while theothers chuckled,William, in particular,tickledbyherremark.“Sell it,” he

recommended. “Get afew shillings for thegold, and you can buyyourself some hairribbons.”

“Notabad idea. But,actually, I have anotherplan in mind.” ToDavid’s shock, sheremoved the ring anddropped it into thepocket of her dress.“Fornow,thiswilldo.Imayaswell getused tothe feeling of a barefinger.”“Don’t bother,” Lord

Langstonsaid.“Ihaveanotionyourfingerisnot

likelytoremainbareforlong.”David stared

unseeingly at the plateof beef a servant setbefore him. If hislordship’s reference toan impending betrothalrelated tohim, themanwouldfindhimselfquitemistaken.Leahhadnottakenher ring offwhenhe asked about it.

Quite to the contrary,shehad told him aboutherAmericansuitorandimplied the ring stillheldmeaningforher.He peered to the side

towatchherstabaforkintoherdinner.Clearly,the trinket had lostsignificance now thatWilliam appeared tocourt her! He hadknown she hid manythingsfromhim,buthe

had never beforesuspected her for anadventuress. But howelsecouldoneexplainaclever young womanfalling for suchsuperficial charisma,especially when sheknew very well of theviscount’sfailings.Hebarelytouchedthe

rest of his meal andmade no attempt tocompetewithWilliamin

his efforts to charm theparty with prattle.Easily carrying theconversation, Williamheld theadvantage overhim in that field everybit as surely as in thequestforLeah’shand--apursuit completelyclosedtoDavid.With no right to woo

her himself, he couldonly pray she came tohersensesregardinghis

brother. He evendebated pulling herasidetowarnherofftheposturingboor.But if he did so, he

would betray his ownunworthy feelings forher. Hopefully, whentheviscountreturnedtoSolebury House andfaced disgrace, shewould realize howunequal a matchWilliamwouldmake for

her. Thenshecouldgoon to find someone elsefor a husband--anyonebuthim.Bythetimeshefound

that other man, Davidplanned to be farremovedfromherlife... starting his own overinAmerica.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN“Leah. Leah, love,

wakeup.”The whisper

penetrated hersubconsciousmind,andshe fluttered her eyesopen, squinting againsta spot of light in thedarkness. The lightfloated--a lantern, sherealized, held by Davidat the door of the

carriage. Had he justcalledher“love,”orhadshe dreamed it? Herdrowsiness started toclear, and sheremembered he’dbehaved miserablytowardherallday.Shemust have dreamed theendearment.“Wearehere,”hesaid,

histonetender.Shepushedup into a

sitting position,

kneading a kink in theback of her neck. Hismood must haveimproved while she’dslept. He certainlyhadn’t shownhermuchtenderness earlier.Evenwhentheystoppedtoeatlunchanddinner,he’d barely spoken toher.“Come into the house

withme,Leah.”Heheldouthisfreehand.“You

will be far morecomfortable in yourchamber.”“We’re at Solebury

House?” She stood up,bumping her head ontheroofofthecarriage.“Ow!Whattimeisit?”“Nearlymidnight.”He

tookherarmandhelpedher down onto thedrive. “A footman hasalready taken yourportmanteau upstairs.

Allow me to escort youinside.”“I slept a long time.”

A cool breeze blew herhairacrossher facebuthelped to clear hermind.Astheshortwalkacrossthegravelrevivedher, she rememberedhow hismoodiness hadruinedwhat could havebeen an enjoyable trip.She turned to him andfrowned. “If I’d had a

more pleasantcompanion, I mighthavetraveledontheboxand managed to stayawake.”He didn’t defend

himself, guiding her upthe front steps insilence--and annoyingevenhermore.When they reached

thedoor,shepulledherarmoutofhisholdandedged in front of him.

Shewalked inside, fullyintending to stompupstairs without a lookback.Then she saw the

fronthall.He collided into her

back, quickly grabbingher elbows to keep herfrom falling. “Forgiveme!”Shebarelyheardhim,

dizzy withdisorientation.

Annoyance forgotten,shereachedoutforhim,clenchinghiscoatinherfists.“Leah, are you

unwell?”Hesteppedupbeside her and put hisarm around hershoulders.Thenshefelthisbodystiffen,andsheknew he’d seen thehall. They both staredattheremnantsofwhatused to be an elegant

foyer.The normally lavish

corridor had beenstripped of every lastpainting, everydecorative sconce, everyornamental vase thathad given the entrancegrace.Onlyafewemptypedestals and standswereleft,alongwiththeoverhead chandelier,presumably too difficulttoremove.

Hisarmdroppedfromher shoulders. “Whatthedevil...”Down the hall, the

marquesssteppedoutofan open door. Butinstead of mirroringtheir shockedexpressions, he smiled.“David, Miss Cantrell,welcomeback!Noneedfor distress, let meassure you. We havenot been burgled. I

have simply put ouranti-ransacking planintoeffect.”“You what?” David

extricated himself fromLeah’s clutch andwalked forward, gapingatthewalls.She still couldn’t

move. Despite LordSolebury’s explanation,she was left with asense of foreboding.The hall looked too

much like sheremembered it from thetwenty-first century.For a moment, she’dactually thought she’dreturned.David reached his

father’s side and shookhis head. “You musthavebeenwelloccupiedthesepastfewdays,mylord.Howmanyofyourpossessions have youplacedinhiding?”

“Nearly everything ofany value from theground floor--familyportraits, gilded frames,all that chinoiserie yourlate grandmothercollected.” LordSolebury leaned backagainst the door frame,crossing one long legover the other. “Theupstairsstillneedstobecleared, but Phoebe

alreadyfeelsagreatdealofrelief.”Relief? Leah took a

step backwards, filledwith quite the oppositefeeling.Theyhadmadeamistake.Instinctively,sheknewtheyhad.Shesensed that the housewouldn’t recover fromthisplunder. For somereason, the beautifulhome would decline,

eventually evolving intothe shabby shell shehad toured in thetwenty-firstcentury.“What is it, Miss

Cantrell?” Themarquess came to herand took her hand.“Youlookasthoughyouhaveseenaghost.”“I...nothing.Ijust.

. .” What could shesay? That she wasafraid the family had

seen the last of theirmost treasuredpossessions? She feltsure they had . . .unless she had beensent back in time topreventthe loss. Couldthatbeherrealpurposehereinthepast?“Get her a drink,

David.” Lord Soleburygrabbedherby thearmand pulled her into hisstudy.Lookingoverhis

shoulder at his son, headded, “You will find abottle of sherry in thecabinetbytheclock.”He led her to a large,

leatherbound armchair,easing her down ontothecushions.David rushed to her

sideandheldaglasstoher lips. “Do you needsmelling salts, Leah?ShallIburnfeathers?”She shook her head,

taking the glass fromhim. Asshesippedthesweet liqueur, shewonderedwhethertotellthem what she feared.Maybe with a word ofwarning, they couldprevent somecatastrophe about tohappen. But no,Davidwould only take herintuition for anothersymptom of her“problem,” and his

father would probablythink she washysterical.“She must be

weakened from travel,”Lord Solebury saidabove her head. “Areyou certain you are notfaint,dear?”“I’ll be fine in a

minute.” She tookanother gulp of thesaccharin drink,probing her mind for

answers. What wouldhappen to the family’svaluables? She knewNapoleon’stroopswouldnever reach them.Would Lord Williamsomehowgetholdofthetreasures and squanderthem, like he did withhis quarterlyallowance? If so, couldshepossiblystophim?“Shall I fetch a maid

for you, Leah?” David

asked, stooping besidethechair.“IcancallforMolly.”“No. Really.” At the

moment,Molly’sfussingwouldonlymake thingsworse.“I’mallright.”“I shouldn’t have

pressed for making ourjourneyinoneday.”Hiseyes gleamed withworry. “Youdidsowellon the way to Londonthat I forgot your

inclination for carriagesickness.”“My wha--?” She

stopped, rememberingthestoryshe’d firsttoldthe family about herarrival at the spring.Apparently,Davidchoseto believe that fictionover the truth. “I don’thavemotionsickness.”“There must be

something I can do foryou.” He glanced

around the room, fixingonthebackwall,wherearowofwindowsoffereda view of the garden.“How about some freshair?”Before she could

answer, he had thrownopen one of thewindows. A breezeswept inside, tingedwith the fragrance ofroses. The scentreminded her of the

late-night walk whenhe’d spoken French toher.The urge to get

outside overwhelmedher.“I think fresh air

might be just the thingfor me.” She bracedherself on the arms ofthe chair, pushingherself up to stand.“Why don’t we go for awalk?”

“Are you certain youought to get up, MissCantrell?” themarquessasked, slipping a handunder her elbow.“Perhaps you shouldrestawhilelonger.”“I need to get

outside.” Themoreshethought, the more shewanted out of thehouse. The barreninterior upset her. “Ilovethegroundshereat

night.”Davidstudiedherface

for a moment, hisexpression unreadable.Henodded.“Son--” Lord Solebury

started.“No cautions are

needed.” David put hisarm around her waist,his touch light--reserved. “Ishan’t takeher farther than therosegarden.”

She didn’t really needhis support, but sheleanedintohim,calmedby the solid warmth ofhis body. She hopedonce they got outside,he would agree to walkfarther.“Very well.” The

marquessrushedaheadand opened the studydoor wider for them.“Butdon’tbe long. Thenight air may not be

good for Miss Cantrell.Moreover, I havesomething important Iwant to discuss withyou.”“Williamhasagreedto

comehome,”Davidsaid,leading Leah past hisfather into the hall.“You can expect him assoon as tomorrow, Ishouldthink.”“Indeed?” Lord

Solebury sounded

surprised. He movedahead of them againand unlocked the frontdoor. “Imust say I amimpressed with yourefforts. But I haveanothermatterIwanttodiscuss with you inprivate as soon aspossible--news I hopewillpleaseyou.”David stopped at the

door and gave him along lookbutdidn’task

about his news. “Weshan’t be long. I amcertain Miss Cantrellwill wish to retireshortly.”She wondered if he

really thought shewouldoronlysaidsototry to plant the idea inher head. The thoughtofbeingholedupinherroom,probablynotableto sleep after that longnap,didn’tappealtoher

one bit. But she keptherthoughtstoherself.Maybe once she hadDavid walking, shecould coax him intostayingout.Thegardenhad several stone andwooden benches wherethey could stop andenjoy theevening . . . ifonly he didn’t slip backintooneofhismoods.He led her onto the

portico and down the

steps, hesitating at thebottom to give her aworried look. By thistime, she didn’t feel asanxiousasshehad,butshe paused to gulp inthebreeze.“Would you like to

stop here?” he asked,his words soft over thebackdrop of chirpingcrickets.Shelookedupintohis

face and smiled to

lessen his worry. “No.Let’s walk the way wedidlasttime.”Theysteppedontothe

drive without talking,while Leah let thetranquility of midnightwash over her. Shesnuggled closer to him,and he put his armaround her, apparentlydropping his guard inhisconcernforher.Shelooked up at the sky

and marveled at thenumber of stars--somany more than shehad ever been able tosee through the lightpollution that shroudedmodernPhiladelphia.“Perhaps you should

slow your pace, Leah.Youwoulddowellnottooverexertyourself.”She smiled at him

again, gently removinghis arm from her

shoulders so she couldtake his hand. Thescent of roses gotstronger as theywalked. She wanted tosay something silly inFrench but resisted,afraidhe’dputupawallif she tried to getplayful.He stared into her

eyes. “You look moreyourself now. Are youfeelingbetter?”

Whenhewatchedherthat way, like no oneelseintheworldexisted,she felt . . . oh, asthough no one else didexist. She wanted tokisshimbuttoldherselftowait. Let the beautyof the night enchanthimfirst,thenshecouldtry adding whatevercharms she had to thespell.“The fresh air helps.”

She made herself lookaway from him, fixingon the path ahead.They hadunintentionally set offtoward the spring.Somehow, the courseseemed natural. Nowshe felteager tosee thepoolagain,asixthsensetelling her she mightfind a form of guidancethere. After all, thespring did wield some

kindofmagic.“What exactly

happened back at thehouse?”heasked.“Wasit indeed the carriageride that made youunwell?”She kept her gaze

focusedahead.“Iguessit must have been.That,combinedwiththeshockofseeingSoleburyHouseransacked.”“But the house had

not been ransacked,and when you learnedthe truth, you stillcouldn’t shake off thevapors.”“Vapors?” She

couldn’t help flashing agrin at him. “Well, Isupposeweallsuccumbto vapors once inawhile.”The concern clouding

his eyes didn’t clear.“Areyoucertainthereis

nothing else upsettingyou?”“What else would

therebe?”Theyreachedthe path leading to thespring, and shemotioned in thatdirection. “Come on,let’s visit my favoritespot.”“What?” He resisted

the tug she gave him.“You cannot possiblywant to return to the

spring again, especiallynotnow.Youhavejustcalmed yourself fromone disturbance. Whysubjectyourselftomoredistress?”“Don’t worry. I have

nodesiretojumpinthepool tonight.”Suddenly, sheremembered the planshe had formed inLondon when LordWilliamaskedabouther

ring. She had decidedto throw it into thespring, just as Jeaninehadadvisedher.“Ihavesomethingelseinmind.”He wouldn’t budge,

holdingherbackby thehand. “Whatever youridea is, I cannot thinkthe notion a good one.Why don’t we return tothemanor? You heardmy--Solebury say hewishestospeaktome.”

Shecaughthisslipofthetongueandgrinned,pleased to know hewanted to speak to hisfather.“We’llgobackina minute, but first Ihave something I wantto do. And I’d like youtobetherewhileIdoit.”He hesitated but gave

agrimnod.“Verywell.But I refuse to let go ofyou throughout this

entirevisit.”“That suits me fine.”

She laughed and ledhim off the drive anddown the trail to thespring.The pool of water

looked especiallypeaceful this evening,glittering with a rippledreflection of the moonandstars. ShebroughtDavid right up to theedge, surprised she

didn’t feel any fear ofthe time portal. Maybeshehadgrowntoaccepther trip to the past,trusting that she hadsome mission in storefor her. Whatever herrole here might be, herstrange calling had lenther focus, assured herthat her life hadmeaning. She couldn’twait to throw awayKevin’s damned

friendship ring. Thecheap trinket had cometo symbolize theaimlessness of her oldlife.“Must you stand so

close?” David asked.“Thismossisdampandslick, and you couldslideintothepool.”She fished the ring

out of her pocket andgrinnedathim. “Afraidofafewfeetofwater?”

He snorted.“Certainlynot. Isimplydon’twant you to dunkyourselfagain.”“Aren’t you even

wondering why we’rehere?” Sheheldupthering to show him. “I’mgoing to get rid of this,like I should have donelongago . . . yearsago,infact.”To her

disappointment,hisface

didn’t light up withenthusiasm. Hismouth, in fact, took onits habitual twist ofcynicism. “I presumethis is the plan youmentionedwhenWilliamasked you about yourring. Does this meanyouhavedismissedyouroldsuitor?”“Definitely.” She

watchedforhisreaction.Still, he frowned.

“Rather a quickturnaround from thesentimentsyoubetrayedafewdaysago.”“Alothashappenedin

thepastfewdays.”Shefelt a painful stab thathe didn’t realize whathe’dbecometoher--thattheir encounter in thegate house seemed tomean less to him thantoher.“Ithoughtyou’dbehappy.”

He gave her whatcould only be called ascowl.“Whywould I behappy?”She snatched her

hand away from him,hurt but determined togo through with hergestureof independenceforherownsake.“Well,if that’s how you feel,youcanstoppretendingto protect me from this

stupid pool. You don’tbelieve there’s anydangerhere,anyway.”Sheturnedandstared

into the spring,ceremoniouslysuspending the ringabovethewater.“Leah, you have been

fortunate so far, but ifyou get soaked again,you are quite likely tocatch cold, perhapseven worse.” He took

her elbow in his hand.“You ought to be moremindful of your well-being.”“I don’t need you to

look after my well-being.” She wriggledher arm to try to breakfree. “I don’t needanyone for thatanymore. I only wish Icould have the chancetotellKevinasmuch.”

“Leah, please, stopthis nonsense.” Hetightened his grip andtried to pull her awayfrom the pool, but shetwisted harder andyanked free.Unfortunately, themovement threw off herbalanceandshelostherfooting. She slid intothe pool, wincing in anicysplash.The ring slipped from

her fingers as her bodydropped--no, her bodyplunged! In a lightningstroke of terror, sherealized the time portalhadopened.Panic shot adrenaline

through her bloodvessels, and she flungout her arms to try toclutch onto anythingsolid.ShesmackedintoDavid’s arm andgrasped frantically, but

herfingerssliddownhistohiswrist.Hegrabbedher hand and, for amoment,shethoughthemight be able to saveher. But the springraged and suckedharder. His holdloosened, and shespiraled downward,clamping her mouthshutagainstascream.Itwon’t last. It won’t

last,sherepeatedinhermind, trying to ignorethe muffled roar of thecold cauldron’s brewand the bubblesaccosting her skin. Inanother minute, I’ll beable to breathe again.I’llbe...Where?Backin the twenty-firstcentury? Or in yetanothertimeperiod?Shecurledintoaball,

squeezinghereyesshutto try to blot out theteeming abyss.Surprisingly, the tacticseemed to work. Thebubbles felt as thoughthey grewsofter againsther body. Could theyactually be subsiding?Her rear end settled onthebottomofthepoolatthesame timeherheadand shoulders emergedabovethesurface.

A jolt of daylightblinded her, but sheforced her eyes toadjust,anxioustoorientherself. Sheroseinthethigh-deepwater,slowlydistinguishing herbright surroundings.The springhouse stoodin ruins again. Thegreat oak tree crampedthe little clearing,dwarfing the pool withits huge roots. When

she spotted her purseon the grass near theedge of thewater, therecould be no furtherquestion of what erashe’dreached.Shesloshedoutofthe

pool, too numb to feelchilled by the air.Mindlessly, she leanedoverandbegantowringoutherskirt.Butwhenshe looked at theburgundy fabric

betweenherfingers,shestopped. Phoebe hadlent her this gown forher trip to London. Aminute ago the dresshadbeenaminordetailin an intriguing world.Now, the gown was theonly thing left of thatlife. The rest of theworld was gone,everyone who had livedthere,dead.

David was lost to herforever.She stared at the

fabric, forgetting herefforts to squeeze thewater out. Suddenly,she clutched the skirtagainst her chest anddropped down onto theground. Immersed inyards of soakedsarcenet, she sobbedlikealostchild.

CHAPTERFIFTEENDavid lunged toward

the whirlpool thatstormed and swelledaround Leah. Hegrasped for heroutstretched arms asthewater engulfedher.An instant before thespring could swallowher, she caught hisforearmwithonehand.Her grip skidded down

his skin, but hemanaged tocaptureherfingers.Afraid the pool would

drag him in as well, hehooked his foot aroundthe trunkofa tree. Hepulled with all hisstrength, praying hewould not wrench herarm.Sheflailedandhegrabbed for her otherarm but missed gettinghold. Then the fingers

he’d already had in hisgraspslippedfree.The maelstrom

devouredher.“Leah!”Hedroppedflatonhis

abdomen and sliced hisarms through thewater.Aroundhisheadand shoulders, thesurge tempered into agurgling,andhishandsstruck mud at thebottom. As he probed

the roots and rocks onthefloorofthepool,thebubbling diminishedinto ripples. Thetantrumhadsubsided.Pale moonlight

penetrated the water,outlining dark naturalformations but no traceof Leah. He refused toaccept theevidenceandtumbled head-first intothe spring, splashingmadly. As he righted

himself, his limbsscraped on stone andbark but met withnothing akin to humanflesh.Shewasgone.He clenched his fists

andballeduphisbody,ducking below thesurfaceandopeninghiseyes. The blacknessaround him only grewquieter, and cool night

air skimmed the top ofhis head. The depth ofthe pool did not evencoverhim.Frustrated, he sprang

back up, dousing thesurroundingareawithahugesplash.Helosthisbalance on the ruttedfloor and fell forward,elbows thudding intothebank.Half draped on the

ground and half

submerged, he buriedhis face in the crook ofhis elbow. She wasgone,irretrievablysweptfrom his life. She hadtried to tell him thetruth, and he hadrefused to believe her.Her story had beenoutlandish, but hemight have at leastlistened. Eventually,shewouldhavetoldhimenough to prove her

case. Now the futurehad reclaimed her andthrownhertwohundredyears away fromhim--adistance he had nomeansofspanning.Heclaspedhis fingers

behind his neck andsqueezed his headbetween his arms. Notsincehismother’sdeathhadhefeltsobereft.Hewondered why Leah’sdeparture should affect

him on the same scaleassuchapersonalloss.Had he actuallyharbored some hope ofbridging the social gapbetweenthem?Yes. For the first

time, he realized thather easy acceptance ofhis birth had indeedgivenhimhope.Foolishor not, he had secretlylongedtowinherintheend. He had dreamed

hemightaccompanyherback to the States toreunitewithherfamily.There,where the effortsa man made countedmorethanthestationofhisbirth,hewouldhaveworkedtobuildhisownsuccess.Hewouldhavesweat blood to provehimself worthy of her--to convince her tobecomehiswife.Instead,Fatethwarted

him again. As withevery other importantaspect of his life, hiseffortswouldamount tonothing. All of hisabilities, his exertions,any scheme he coulddevise . . . none of itwould bring her back.Preternatural powershadbroughther tohimand ripped her awayagain. Divine ordemonic, such forces

loomed beyond therealm of his influence.Disgusted,hecollapsed,his arms spread outacrosstheground.Something warm

brushed his fingertips,and he jerked back. Ametallic gleam, halfhiddeninthegrass,cutthrough the darkness.Hereachedforwardandpicked up Leah’sguinea, apparently

fallen from his pocketduring the struggle tosave her. Oddlyenough, the gold stillretainedhisbodyheat.As he gripped the

coin, he imagined themetalgrewwarmer.Thegoldbegantofeelalmosthot. And the wateraround his legs startedbubbling. Heremembered that Leahhad credited the guinea

as a catalyst for heroriginal transport, themeans by which she’dwished herself back intime.The metal flared

hotter,andthewatersofthe pool increased inturbulence.Apparently,this strange springaccepted trinkets inturn for grantingwishes.Now,hesensed

the spring wanted himtosacrificetheguinea.Did he dare ask for a

return?“I do want to be with

her,”hewhispered.The water surged to

his waist, and the heatof the coin intensified.The metal burned intohis palm, forcing hishand open. The golddropped into the water

with a hissing wisp ofsteam.Thenthegroundfell out from beneathhim, and his bodyplummeted intorumblingblackness.He closed his eyes

against the brew andstretched his armsabove his head.Already, the watertopped his reach. Thepool no longer had asurface or a bottom,

only endless riotingcurrents reverberatingaroundhisbody.By rights, he should

have said his prayersthen. He should havepleaded forgiveness forall his sins andprepared to meet hisMaker--or thenothingness he oftenfeared might comprisethe next world. But

Leah had survived thesame experience. Shehad braved this trial,and he would, too. Hefeltmoreexcitementthan fear, more

freedom than loss ofcontrol.Hesoared,weightless,

through the void,likening theeffervescence aroundhim to years bubbling

past. The moment hislungs began to ache forair, his feet toucheddown on the bottom ofthe pool, and he burstthrough the surface,gasping.The glare of afternoon

sunblindedhim,andheshielded his eyes,blinking to adapt todaylight. He hadtraveled through time!Gradually, hemade out

details in thesurrounding scene: ahuge oak crowding thepool,thespringhouseina wretched state ofrepair . . . and Leah,sittingbeforehiminthegrass. Soaked,bedraggled, her faceswollen with tears, shegapedathimas thoughshe had witnessed aghostmaterializing.To him, she couldn’t

have looked morebeautiful.He sloshed out of the

water, offering her anunsteadysmile thatshefailedtoreturn.Atraceof doubt flickeredthroughhismind.Whatifshedidn’twanthiminherworld?She sat frozen as he

approached, her gazenever straying from hisface. Only when he

stooddirectlyinfrontofher, looking down intoher eyes, did the set ofher features melt. Herbrowstiltedupwardandher lower lip quivered.He had to bite his owntokeepfromrespondinginkind.At last, she leapt to

her feet and threw herarms around him. Shelet out a sob andsqueezed his body

against hers, pressingher hands high on hisback, low, then in themiddle, perhaps testinghiscorporeality.“You really are here,”

she choked out. “Ithought I’d never seeyouagain.”His throat tightened

as he returned herembrace.“Ithoughtthesame.”“Incredible.” She

gazed into his eyes,shakingherhead.“Howdid it happen? I knowyoutriedtopullmeoutof the spring, but youdidn’t fall in with me,did you? I’ve alreadybeen here for . . . oh, Idon’t know--fiveminutes.Itseemedlikealifetime.”“I gave your guinea

backtothespring.” Hestrokedherhairtocalm

her,swallowinghisownemotions. “I wanted tocome after you. Isuppose I wished tocome,afterafashion.“Youmadeawishwith

thecoin? Iwonder . . .Check your pockets tosee if you still have theguinea.”Hegavehispocketsa

quickpatting.“Empty.”“You are the original

wisher! And you gotyourwish? Youwishedtocomehere?”To be precise, he’d

wished to be with her,buthenodded.The interest in her

expression dissolvedinto anguish. “Oh,David,I’msorry.Iknowwhat it’s like beingthrown into a worldwhere you’re anoutsider. And you’ll

probably have evenmore problemsadjusting to this timethan I did with yours.There’ssomuchforyoutolearn.Andthecoinisgone now! What willyou do if you can’t getback?”Hestareddownather

hair. The prospect ofliving in a future worldscarcely frightenedhim,as long as the world

werehers. “I suppose Iwill do what I havealways done. I havenever quite belongedand perhaps never will,butIshallworkhardtomake a place formyself.”“But life today is so

complicated. There arenuclear weapons,biological weapons, HIV. . .” She looked up athim,herbrowcreasing.

“Military horrors andinsidiousdisease. Evilsthat couldwipe out thehumanrace.”“We faced the same

sort of evils in thenineteenth century,” hesaid. Though herdistress showed shecared about him, herfeelings must not haverun deep, or she wouldnot mention theseabstract concerns. Of

coursehewouldhavetoadapt to this era. Heknew he would have toacclimate himself tochanges in speech andmanners, but he hadexpected todoasmuchwhen he moved toAmerica,anyway.Therewould be history tolearn, but only twocenturies’ worth--littlein comparison to thespan back to classical

times. Clothing styleswould have changed,and perhaps a bettercarriage spring hadbeen invented or aquickerhorsebred. Heanticipated thosedifferences withpleasure.“But the evils of your

timedon’tseemquitesoevil.” She bowed herhead, clenching his

shirt so tightly watersqueezed between herfingers.“Oh,David,youshouldn’thavecome.”Her words hurt. He

wanted her to be gladabout his arrival --no,more than glad,overjoyed. But hereminded himself hewould prove his worthto her. He had thatchancenow.

“I regret that mypresence shoulddistress you,” he said,keeping his mannerstiff.“IassureyouIwillbide my time hereusefully and, I hope,happily. I don’t ask foryour guidance, thoughsome counsel wouldnaturally be helpful. Ihope you will at leastconsent to maintainingouracquaintance.”

“Of course I will!”Once more, sheembraced him. “Oh,David,youhaven’tgotaclue,haveyou?”“A clue to what?” To

life in the this newcentury? But he didhave many clues,provided through hisknowledge of her. Ifotherpeopleofthistimeshared her spirit, herindependence and her

fair-mindedness, helooked forward to livingamongstthem.“Never mind.” She

detached herself fromhimandbenttopickupasmallsatchelfromtheground.Sheslippedthebag over one shoulderand stretchedher otherarm around his waist.“Comeon.Ithinkwe’vearrived back on thesame afternoon I first

came to the spring. IfI’mright,wemaystillbeable to catch the busback to London. Ourtourguideisprettylaid-back. I think he’ll letyouhitcharide.”A hint of

apprehension tingledthrough his body. Herconfusing wordsrepresented only thefirst of a world ofmatters he would not

comprehend. Heinhaled deeply. Thesooner he started, thesooner he would learn.“Asyouwish.”Brambles and trees

had overtaken the pathto the drive, so theywove their way throughthe woods. As theyemerged onto the drive,David saw that awooden fence had beenerected along the side,

and the approach itselfsportednewgravel.No,not new. Like thesplinteredfencerailtheystepped over, the whitepebbles showedevidenceofneglect.Thestones had scatteredinto the wayside, andtufts of grass sproutedthrough in spots.Clearly, the presentowner employed agroundskeeper far less

proficient than hisfather’sman.His father. He

stopped, staring downat a rut in the ground.Until that moment, hehadn’t thought aboutSolebury and Phoebebeinggone.Theywouldbe dead--no, he wouldnot think of them assuch!Theyweresimplyon the other side of theabyss he had crossed.

Perhaps they were lostto him or perhaps oneday he would findhimselfrestoredtotheirtime. For now, he hadto concentrate on moreurgentmatters.A strange sound,

somewhat akin to therumbleofthunder,drewhis notice to anastounding sight at theend of the drive. Somesort of enclosed

carriage,gleaminglikeapolished onyx, spedtowardthem...withnohorses leading it! Theconveyanceglidedcloserand halted abruptlybesidethem.He marveled as a

window, fashioned incrystalline curved glass,slid into the side of thecarriage toward therear. An elderly man,his white hair long and

unruly, stared at himwitheyesnearlyaswildashiscoiffure.“Good Lord! Son, is

that you?” He shot aglance to someoneseated beside him. “Iswear, Isabella, it isDavy.Iknewhehadn’tdrowned. What have Isaid all these years?Not sucha swimmerashe!”

Leah leaned close toDavid’s ear, whispering,“Hemustbethecurrentmarquess, and I thinkhe’s mistaken you forhis son. I saw theviscount’s portrait, andyoudoresemblehim.Ifyou remember, I alsothought you were himwhenIfirstsawyou.”The current

marquess? Davidstudied the man’s

features, but wizenedskin obscured anyresemblance he mayonce have borne to theTraymores of thenineteenth century.Could theman truly betheir descendant--hisfather’sdescendant?A mature woman

leaned in front of theman, her snowy hairpulled into a bun. On

meeting David’s gaze,her eyebrows rose inhigh arches. As sheexamined his features,the arches sank anddrew together. Shescanned his wet personfrom head to toe, eyesnarrowing.“Good afternoon, sir,

miss.” Her thin lipsformed a rigid rubyline. “I gather you’vemet with a mishap of

some sort, though Ican’t imagine whyyou’ve been wanderingthe grounds incostume. May I inquirewhatbusinessyouhaveatSoleburyHouse?”“Isabella, it’s Davy!

Don’t you recognizeyourownnephew?”Theold gentleman tapped acane on a dividerseparating him fromanother man in the

front of the carriage.“Gerald, helpme out ofthecar. Imust seemyson.”David exchanged a

lookwithLeahwhilethesecond man emerged.Dressed in an all-blackcostume marked bylong trousers,Geraldmoved with a certainefficiency that brandedhim a servant. Hespared but a glance for

the strangers, thenmoved to open the reardoorsofthecarriage.“Davy, why are you

drenched inwater?” theold man asked as hestruggled to quit theconveyance.Heworeanensemble similar to hiscoachman, except in adullbluedecoratedwithfineverticalstripes.Onattaininghisbalance,hestopped, his pale gray

eyesrounding.“Notthewaters of theMediterranean!Isabella, are we seeingan apparition? Lordhelp us! Do you seehimaswell?”“I do, Jonathan, and

he appears entirelyearthboundtome.”Thewoman called Isabellajoined them on thegravel, revealing spindlyanklesbeneathaflower-

adorned dress cut to abrevity that startledDavid.Shecontinuedtoobserve him with fixedhazel eyes. “Sir, prayassure my brother youarenotanapparition.”He shook his head,

happy to be able toassure his inquisitorssomething.“Iamnot.”“Then you are alive.

Praisebe!”Theoldman

began to shakealarmingly, promptinghis sister and theservanttosteadyhimbytheelbows.Isabella pursed her

lips. “Jon, this youngman cannot be yourson. He does favor theboy, but his hair andeyes are bothconsiderably darker.Besides, David wouldhave celebrated his

fortieth birthday thisyear. This gentlemancan only be thirty atmost.”“But of course he is

Davy.” He tried to slipaway from his helpers,but theyheldhim fast.“Tell your aunt, son.Her eyesight must befailingher.”David glanced at

Leah,butsheonlygavehim a weak shrug. He

turned back to theelderlyman.“Ifearyouhave mistaken me foranother,sir.IamcalledDavid,but Iamnot theDavid you know. Myname is DavidTraymore.”“Exactly,boy.Youare

ViscountTraymore, andI am your father, LordSolebury.” For the firsttime, the man’swrinkled brow

puckered. “Don’t yourecognizeme? Isabella,he must be sufferingamnesia. Thatexplainswhy he has made hisway back to us onlynow, after all theseyears. Where have youbeen, Davy? Lostsomewhere in thejungles of Africa, Idaresay.”“Mr.Traymore,doyou

have some form of

identificationwithyou?”the woman calledIsabellaasked.Leah stepped

forward. “I’m afraid hedoesn’t, ma’am. Yourbrotherispartlycorrect,yousee.Myfriendheredoeshaveamnesia. Hecan’t rememberanythingbuthisname.”“Does he also forget

howtodress?Andwhatabout you?” Isabella’s

gaze swept over Leah’sapparel. “Why are youwearing a costume--awetoneatthat?”She looked down as

though she’d forgottenwhatshewore.“We,uh...wedressedlikethisfor a historical tour oflocalhouses.Theguidebelieves that wearingperiodcostumesaddstothe experience.Unfortunately,wefell in

your spring whilewalking the grounds.You see, I noticed yourfamily had the samename as David andwondered if you wererelated. I thought ifhe’d been here before,seeing the estate againmightjoghismemory.”“Or you thought you

might fool an old maninto believing his lostheir has returned.”

Isabella lifted her chintolookdownhernoseatthem. “Well, if you’reseeking to gain yourfortune here, you’vechosen poorly. Theestateisrapidlynearingbankruptcy.Evenifmybrotherwere tomistakeyou for his son, you’dinherit nothing butdebts.”“Madam, indeed, you

wrongus.Ilaynoclaim

to your brother’sestate.”Davidlookedtothe old gentleman. “Iamsorry,sir,butIhavenot the honor of beingyour son. I mostcertainly am not theviscount.”The marquess only

stared, apparentlyunwilling to credit thetruth. His sister eyedDavid as well, but herexpressionsoftened,her

chin no longer juttingforth.“We’d best be on our

way,David,”Leahsaid.“We wouldn’t want tomissthetourbus.”“One minute, miss.”

Isabella scrutinizedDavid’s eyes, thewrinkles between hereyebrows deepening.Her gaze slid down thelength of his body andback to his face. “You

do bear a resemblanceto my nephew, Mr.Traymore. Do youremember anything atall about your family oryourhome?”He swallowed,

reluctant to lie butacknowledging he hadnootherrecourse. “No,madam.”“And has Solebury

House ‘jogged yourmemory,’ as your friend

herehoped?”He paused, then

shookhishead.“If you had claimed it

did, I’d suspect you oftrying to impersonatemynephew,andI’mstillnot certain you didn’tintendto.”Shesteppedaround him, inspectinghim from all angles.“Youmostassuredlyarenot my brother’s son,butthelikenessissuch

thatIdaresayyoucouldbe a relative. I’d likeyoutohavedinnerwithus. I thinkwecanfindsomedry things foryouto wear up at thehouse.”Leah exchanged

another glance withhim, her eyes growingwide. She wet her lipsandaddressed Isabella.“Thankyou,ma’am,butour bus will be leaving

the parking lot anyminute.Wehavetogo.”Themarquess banged

hiscaneontheground.“No, Davy, I won’t letyou leave again sosoon. I don’t haveanothertenyearslefttowaitforyourreturn.”Hissisterfrownedand

looked to David. “Sir,I’d like you to go overthefamilytreewithme.Perhaps we can

determine who youreallyare.”Leah shifted from one

foot to the other. “Afriendofmineiswaitingforusatthebus.She’sexpectingustoreturntoLondonwithher.”Isabella raised an

eyebrow. “Do you haveany reason to believeMr. Traymore mayrecover his memorymore readily in

London?”“Well,no...”“Then I must insist

you come with me. Ifyou truly want to helpthisyoungman,Miss... Miss--I’m sorry. Ididn’tcatchyourname.I, by the way, am LadyIsabellaTraymore.”“How do you do, my

lady?” Leah curtsied.“My name is LeahCantrell.”

“Leah Cantrell?” Herbrowfurrowed.“Whyisyour name so familiar?Do I know you, MissCantrell?”“No,ma’am.”Lady Isabella

contemplated her for amoment,thenshookherhead. “I’m certain I’veheardyournamebefore,but I don’t recognizeyourface.Inanycase,Iinsist you stay for

dinner. Take a latercoachtoLondon.”“Really, my lady, we

don’t want to troubleyou.” Leah looked toDavid,butheheldupahandtostopher.“I should like to join

them,”hesaid. Hehadhis apprehensions, butthesestrangerswerehisfamily, after all. Whatbetterplacetobeginhis

introduction to thetwenty-first century? “IbelieveImayhavemuchto learnhere. Would itbe too much trouble todelayourjourney?”She glanced up the

drive, pressing her lipstogether. At last, sheturned back to theothers. “No, it’s notrouble. I won’t becontinuing with thetour, anyway. But I’ll

need to let my friendknow I’m stayingbehind.”“We’ll send someone

out to the parking lotwith a message,” LadyIsabella said. “Now,let’sgetinthecarbeforeyoutwocatchcold.”David eyed the

remarkableconveyance. “You wishustoridewithyou?”“Yes. Don’t worry

about getting the seatswet. The upholstery isold.” Her ladyshipgestured for her gueststoenterfirst.“Thank you, my

lady.” With a rush ofexcitement, Davidhelped Leah inside andclimbed in behind her,settling into a seat thatyielded like a plusharmchair. ThecoachmanassistedLord

Solebury and LadyIsabellaintothecarriageand returned to thefront.David stared as the

driver adjusted knobsand levers, situated atboth his hands andfeet. Suddenly, thecarriage rolled forward,gliding faster than hehad ever imagined possible. He felt like abird in flight as he

watched trees tear pastthe windows at atremendous rate ofspeed. Theymusthavetraveledattwicetherateof any horse-drawncarriage--perhaps somethirtymilesanhour!Near the house, they

pulled ontoa flat, even,black surface, and theridegrewsmootheryet.The vehicle came to astop before the manor

doors, the glorious tripoverfartooquickly.As the rest of the

party climbed out ontothe drive, David sat,grinning to himself. Abetter carriage spring,indeed! What othersurprises did this newworldhaveinstore?

CHAPTERSIXTEENLeah followed a gray-

hairedhousekeeper intotheupstairshall,alltooconsciousofthetatteredwallpaper and worncarpet. With theknowledge that Davidhad made the originalwish, she’d gotten herown aimless wish. Butshecouldn’thelpfeelinghertimetransportcould

have been used for amore meaningfulpurpose: namely, tosave Solebury House.She couldn’t shake offthe sense that she’dfailed the Traymores.According to LadyIsabella, they were atthe brink ofbankruptcy. Thatmeant they’d have tosell the estate, and notmany prospective

buyers would have astack of ready cash forrepairs. Would a bankend up owning theplace? What if thehouse had to be torndown?She stopped to wait

for David, who lingeredonthestairs, lookingatthe walls with a grimface. A chill shiveredthrough her, and notbecause of her damp

clothing.Shewasafraidfor him. The ruinedhousewasonlythefirstculture shock of manyhe’dhavetodealwith.When he reached her

side, she took his handand leaned close to hisear.“I’msorryyouhaveto see the manor thisway. I’d hoped I coulddo something in thepast thatmight preventthis. Unfortunately, I

didn’thavetimetotry.”“Your pity is

unnecessary.” Agruffness in his voiceundermined thestoicism of hisstatement. “This neverwasmyhome. Iamnomore attached to thisbuildingthanyouare.”She slipped an arm

around his waist andrested her head on hisshoulder. “If you’re

trying to say you don’tcare about the ruinhere, don’t compareyour feelings to mine.I’vegrownveryattachedtoSoleburyHouse.”Afewsecondspassed,

thenheplacedhishandonherback. Thesmallgesture told her a lot.In his way, he hadacceptedhersympathy.The housekeeper led

them into a section of

the house closed offfrom the tour route.She stopped in front ofthe first door theyreached.“LordSoleburyinsisted you be shownhere.” She watchedDavidoverthetopofherwire-framed glasses, asthough she expectedsome sort of reactionfromhim.When he didn’t show

one, she opened the

door and motioned forthe guests to enterahead of her. “Thisroom belonged to theviscount.”David stepped inside

and surveyed theantiquated but wellmaintained decor. Heran his hand over thesurfaceofanoldwritingdesk and leaned downto inspect somethingcarved into a window

sill.Walkingtothesideof the bed, he took onepost in his hand andstareddownat the goldvelvet bedspread. Leahhadneverseentheroombefore, but she got theimpressionhehad.“Everything has been

kept exactly the wayyou--or ViscountTraymore, rather–hadit.” The housekeepergave him a sidelong

glance.“I’velainoutdryclothes forbothofyou.They’reabit...vintage,shall we say? I hopethey’ll do, however.Miss, if you’d like aroom of your own fordressing, I can showyoutoanother.”Leahshookherhead.

“I’llbefinehere.”“Verywell,then.”The

housekeeper didn’tseem to notice David’s

eyes had balloonedopen, then narrowed tofix on Leah. “There’s alavatory through thatdoor. Dinner will beservedat six. AnythingelseIcandoforyou?”“No,thankyou.”Leah

avoided meeting theglare she felt comingfrom him. She’dobviously shocked himbyagreeingtochangeinthesameroom.Nowhe

was mad, but she hadto hide a grin. Maybesheshouldn’tlaugh,butin this case she wasn’tworriedabouthim. Hisnaivete wouldn’t lastlong.“Very good. Ring if

you think of anythingelse you need.” Thehousekeeperleft,closingthedoorbehindher.Pretending she

noticed nothing wrong,

Leah crossed the roomand picked up acarriage clock from thedresser. “Five o’clock.Wehaveanhour to getready.”David stood statue

still,probablystewing.“Did you see the odd

way the housekeeperlooked at you?” Shestooped down anduntied her halfboots.“Lord Solebury isn’t the

only one who believesyou could be the long-lostviscount.”“Leah, why did you

agree to that woman’soutrageous assumptionthat we would dress inthesameroom?”“Whyputourhoststo

anyextratrouble?”Sheglanced up at him,feigning innocence asshe pulled off a boot.“Besides, we really

should spend this timetalking. We shouldmakesurewe’vegotourstorystraight.”He threw his hands

up in the air. “Awoman’s reputationalways outweighs allother concerns. Youknowthat.Letushopeyou have not just doneirreparable damage toyours--and mine, for

thatmatter.”She yanked off the

other boot andwriggledhertoes.“Oh,I’mprettysure we’ll both be ableto withstand thescandal.”“Leah, we are already

on dubious footinghere. What on earthwill Lady Isabella thinkofusnow?”“Lady Isabella

probably told thehousekeeper to put usin here together.” Shepeeled off a wetstocking, sliding him agrin. “Welcome to thetwenty-first century,SweetPea.”He stared at her, the

setofhisfeaturesslowlymutating fromexasperation toskepticism. “Are youquiteserious?”

“Totally.” She stoodand walked to the bed,pickingupthedressthehousekeeper had laidout for her. Made ofnavy blue linen, thesimplestylehadashin-length, straight skirt.Above a fitted bodice,lace faintly yellowedwith age trimmed asquare-cut neckline.She couldn’twait to getout of her wet clothes

and put on the elegantoldgarment.She reached behind

her neck to unzipherself before sheremembered she stillwore a Regency-eragown with a dozen tinyhooksrunningdowntheback. She looked overher shoulder at hercompanion. “Undome,David,willyou?”There was a pause

beforeheanswered.“No, I don’t believe I

will,actually.”She stifled a smile.

The poor guy woulddefinitely need someadjusting before he’dfeel comfortable withmodernways.“Look,I’llget changed in thebathroom, behind aclosed door, but I doneed help with thesehooks. This type of

thing isn’t a big dealnowadays. I’m onlyasking for your help.Please.”Lifting her hair, she

turnedherbacktohim.After a long moment,she heard him movecloser. The light scentof sandalwood teasedher nose. His fingersbrushedthenapeofherneck, and a shudderrolled down her spine.

Apparently, modernwomen weren’t quite asimmune to casualtouching as she’dimplied--not when theright person did thetouching.“There are some

things I shallneed timeto get used to,” he saidsoftly from behind herear. His fingers grazedher back as the hookscameapartonebyone.

Thelightpressuremadeher skin tingle, andgoose bumps rose onherarms.Shereachedbackand

grabbedhishand,warminherchilledfingers.“Iknow. It’snot reallyaseasyasImadeitouttobe. There are fewerrules,andthatmakesitdifficult toknowexactlywhat’s right--even forthose of us who are

usedtoit.”He cleared his throat,

letting her turn hishand to hold it. “Isimply want to avoidhaving Lady Isabellathrow us out on ourears. She and themarquessaremyfamily,however far removed,and I shouldn’t likethem to think badly ofme.Isthatterriblydaftofme?”

“Notdaftatall.”“I am pleased you

agree.Now,letmetendto these hooks.” Heslipped his hand fromhersandskimmeddownherbackuntilthedressfell open, leadingher totremble again. “Thereyouare.Allfinished.”He stepped away and

shrugged off his jacket,hangingthegarmentonachair.

She stood motionless,still tantalized by theexperience of hisundressing her. Shewantedhimtofinishthejob.“Have I forgotten

something?” he asked,untying the scarf-likeneckpiece she’d heardcalled a cravat. “Do Inot make a good lady’smaidthen?”Shestudiedhispartly

averted face, admiringthe contours of hisforehead, lashes andnose. Her focus stuckat the curve of his lips,perfect for kissing. “Isuspect your talents lieinotherareas.”Without

acknowledginghergaze,he stripped off hisjacket. The clingingshirt beneath outlinedmuscle that made her

suck inherbreath. Anurgetogoandtakehimin her arms pulsedthrough her. Not usedto a woman initiatingphysicalcontact,he’dbecaught off guard. Shefeltconfidentshe’dgetaglimpse of passions henormallyhidtoowell.But did she really

wanttoambushhim?No.Fornow,atleast,

she’dbegood.

She released a raggedsigh. “I’ll get changednow, okay? In thebathroom, Imean. Oh,the bathroom. Waituntil you see this,David. Hot and coldrunning water, and nomore disgustingchamberpots. But,no,wereallyshouldgetoutof these wet clothesfirst, shouldn’t we? I’llshow you the bathroom

whenIcomebackout.”He shot her a look

over his shoulder,eyebrows raised at herbarrageofwords.Asheunbuttonedhisshirt,hesmiled. “Go and getdressed,willyou?”The rare smile made

her grin back. Sheturned toward thebathroom, then stoppedagain. Turningaround,shesaid,“I’mreallyglad

you’rehere.We’regoingtohavesomuch fun. Ihave so much to showyou.Ican’twait.”He laughed,

surprising her again.“Dressyourself,andyouwon’thaveto.”She grinned and

backed into thebathroom, closing thedoor. Funnyhowbeingthrust two hundredyears away from what

he knew didn’t evenseemtofazehim.No,infact, he seemed morecarefree than everbefore. A very differentresponse from the oneshe’dhad!As she shimmied out

of her gown, she hopedhis attitudewould last.Shehadno ideahowtohelp him start fittinginto themodern world.He would have to

support himselfsomehow,andhedidn’thavesomuchasabirthcertificate, let alone acurrent education orknowledge of today’sjobs. But she hadjumped ahead ofherself. For all sheknew, the spring couldtake him back inanotherweek,thewayithadwithher.She blanked out the

thought, grabbing atowel from a pile on awhite wicker etagere.She wouldn’t thinkabout his leaving. Hewas here with her nowand, if she could keephim beside her, shewould gladly supporthim herself for as longasFateallowed.She took a brush out

ofherpurseand staredinto the mirror as she

struggled to tame herwet hair. Her reflectedeyes looked big, thepupils dilated withapprehension andexcitement. She wouldconcentrate on theexcitement. For now,shehadDavidwithher,and she intended toenjoy his company tothe fullest. As his onlyclose acquaintance, shevirtually had him to

herself. Andshe’dhavethe privilege of showinghimawholenewworld.With a burst of

anticipation, she sat onthe side of the tub andpulled on thedarkbluetightsLady Isabellahadprovided for her. Onefoot propped on thetoiletseat,shestretchedthe nylon up each leg.As she stood to finishthe job, she eyed the

toiletwithanewlightofinterest.She couldn’t wait to

demonstrate a flush forDavid.

****“I don’t see any other

Davidshere.”Seatedata heavy oak tablestacked with ledgers,journals and packets ofpapers--as well asleftovers from dinner--Lady Isabella ran a

finger up and down afamily tree. “Of course,we don’t have completerecords for some of themore distant cousins.One of them could beyourfather.”Leah leaned over to

offerpretendassistance,readingfromtheoutsidebranches.“BernardandElizabeth, Arthur andBarbara, Randall andFrederica.. .Doanyof

thesenamesringabell,David?”Heshookhishead.Her ladyship

continued scanning theperipheral areas of thetree. “I believe I’vealready mentioned therest of these nameswithout yourrecognizing them. I’mafraid we’ve come upempty-handed. Anyother ideas how we

mighthelpyou?”Herubbedhischin in

thought. “I wonder,Lady Isabella, if youcould tell me some ofthefamilyhistory.Ifwehave commonancestors,thetalesmaybe familiar to me. Arethereanyuniquestoriesthat have passed downthrough thegenerations?”“Indeed, we have our

shareofskeletons.”Shesat back in her chairand gave him a wansmile. “But are familydisgraces the sort ofthing you want toremember?”“Anythingyoucantell

memightbeuseful.”Her ladyshiptappeda

finger on her lower lip.Butbeforeshecameupwith anything, herbrotherspokeup.

“Tell him about thefamily curse.” Themarquess sat in anarmchair in front of thefire, ablaze in spite ofthewarmweather.“Thestory always fascinatedhimasalad.”Leahshot thesistera

curious look, butIsabellagaveanirritatedfrown.“Jonathan, we didn’t

knowthisyoungmanas

a lad. Anyway, I refuseto spread thatfoolishness. I’ll neverunderstand whatpossesses you to bringupsuchnonsense.”“Nonsense, Isabella?”

He fussed with theblanketthatcoveredhisthin legs. “This familywas once among thewealthiest in England.Now, we’re up to oureyeballsindebt.I’dsay

the curse is damnedclose to doing us incompletely.”His sister glanced at

David. “I’m sure thisisn’t what you had inmind, Mr. Traymore.”Toherbrother,shesaid,“Ifoneistobelievethoseoldtales,onemightalsoarguethatthecursehasended. After all, thespringisflowingagain.”Leahexchangedalook

with David and turnedbacktohearmore.“The spring’s drying

upwasonlyasymptomofourblight.Thecursebegan when the sixthmarquess spurned hismistress, leaving heralone to bear hisillegitimate son.” Hislordship held up anindexfingerashemadehispoint. “All thathashappened since then

makes it clear that boyshould have inherited.Thelineofdescentwentawry, and eachsubsequent generationhas suffered theconsequences.”Leah watched the

colordrain fromDavid’sface, confirming herguess that his fatherhad been sixthmarquess. She tried todivert attention away

from his reaction,asking, “What does allthishavetodowiththespring?”“The lad disappeared

in the spring.” LordSoleburyshookhisheadto himself. “Hevanished the very nighthis father intended totry to make amends.The legal heir was awastrel, you see, so thefather changed his will

so every unentailedpiece of property wouldgo to his by-blow--afellow who haddistinguishedhimselfasfar more worthy.Unhappily, the gesturecametoolate.Beforehecould even tell his sonabout thedecision, thatspringout theresuckedthe lad away andinstantly dried up. Agamekeeper witnessed

thewholething.”Leah’s mind whirled

with the dizzyingrevelations. David’spoor father--losing theson he had only justcome to appreciate!Would David share anyof the grief his fathermusthavefeltoverwhatmight have been? Shewatched him and sawthe muscles in histemples tense as he

clenchedhisjaw.LadyIsabellasnorted.

“Jonathan, that absurdgamekeeper clearlyfabricated that littlefantasy. You neglectedtomentionthatayoungwoman disappearedwith the son.Obviously, the springhad nothing to do withtheir vanishing. Anyfoolcandeducethatthetwoofthemeloped.”

“Yes, a romantic foolmight deduce that.Those who accept thehard evidence knowotherwise. That girl’sshawlwas found in thedesiccatedspring.”Leah looked down at

her hands. She hadwornashawlouttothewoods, hadn’t she?Howoddtohearherselfdiscussed in the third

personandbe forced tohide the unbelievabletruth.Howeerietofindherself included in thelegends of anaristocratic Englishfamily.Her ladyship crossed

her armsand turned toDavid.“Haveyouheardquite enough of our so-called family history?”As she looked into hisface, she frowned.

“What is it, Mr.Traymore? You don’tlookatallwell.”His normally warm

complexionhadgonesowhite that his lipslooked bluish. Leahshook off her owndiscomposure and wentto his side, putting anarmaroundhim.“The story is familiar

to you, isn’t it?” LadyIsabellaaskedhim.

He nodded withoutmeetinghergaze.“Takealittleatatime,

David,”Leahsaidbeforetheirhostesscouldposemore questions. “Youdon’t have to remembereverythingatonce.”He looked up at her,

hiseyesmurky.She placed one finger

overhismouth.“Shhh.It’sokay.”

“Do you remember usnow, David?” themarquess asked,leaning forward in hischair. “Do youremember me--yourfather?”Lady Isabella winced

butchosetoignorehim,keeping her gaze fixedonDavid.“Doyourecallanything more aboutyour origins, Mr.

Traymore?”He shook his head,

his face practicallygreen. Leah pressed ahand on his forehead,half expecting him tofeel feverish. He lookedsosick.“Isabella, tell him

moreaboutthecurseofthe sixth marquess,”Lord Solebury urged.“The story is spurringhismemory.”

Her ladyship pursedher lips. “I think he’sheard enough for oneday,Jonathan. Wecantalk more tomorrow.”To David, she said, “Ishould like you to staywithus for a fewdays.We are likely related insomewayand,untilyouregain your memory,youbelonghere.”He stared into space

butmanaged to recover

enough to speak. “Iwouldliketostay,ifyoudon’tmind.”“Of course, you’ll

stay,” Lord Soleburysaid.“Whereelsewouldyougo?”A phone rang in the

hall, stopping after tworings. The nextmoment,amaleservantentered the roomcarrying a cordlessreceiver. “Person-to-

person call for LeahCantrell from JeanineWhitaker.”Her shoulders

slumped. Jeaninewouldberagingmad.“Leah Cantrell,” Lady

Isabellamurmured.Leah looked her way

and her ladyshipsnapped to meet hergaze. The olderwoman’seyesnarrowed,and she watched Leah

sharply as the servanthandedherthephone.“Hello.”“Leah!” The shrill

voice nearly pierced hereardrum. “Thank Godyou really are atSolebury House–andsafe! I didn’t know ifthat note you sent outto the bus was for realornot. I almost got offand went to look foryou,butifsomeonehad

kidnapped you orsomething, I was afraidthey’d get me, too.What the hell are youdoing?Iwasfranticforthe whole ride back toLondon!”“I’ll have to explain

someother time.” Leahtried to ignore LadyIsabella’s stare; she’dfind out what that wasabout later. Davidgapedatheraswell,but

she knew his reasons.She hadn’t yet had achancetointroducehimtothetelephone.“Imetsome people. There’s alottotell.”“You met people--in

the fifteen minutesbetweenwhen I left youand the time you sentthenote?”Leah looked at the

others, still watchingher.“Yes.”

“Who? No, nevermind, I made this callonmy phone card, andI’m sure it’s costingmea fortune. You canexplain when you gethere.Justtellmewhenyou’recomingin.We’releaving for Paris earlytomorrow. You’d betternotmissthatbus.”“Actually, I will be

missing that bus.” She

braced herself foranother outburst. “I’mstaying here inEngland.”Therewasasecondof

pure silence, thenearsplitting tones ofdisbelief. “What? Byyourself?”“Withafriend.”“Who?”“His name is David.”

She glanced at himwhen she said his

name. He was stilleying her but hadcomposed hisexpression into one ofmild interest. Damnedif he didn’t adaptquickly. “Maybe whenyour tour gets back toLondon in two weeks,youcanmeethimbeforeflyinghome.”“Mytour?Leah,what

aboutyourtour?You’re

giving up Paris andRome for some guy youmet a couple hoursago?WhenItoldyoutogo for other men, Ididn’tmeantoloseyourhead! Now, get on thenextbus forLondon,soyou can come to Pariswithusinthemorning.Paris, Leah, for Pete’ssake.”Leah gave her

audience a forced smileand turned her back tothem. “ParisandRomehave been there a longtimeandaren’t likely togo away soon. I’ll seethemanothertime.”“But you paid to see

themnow!You’regoingto throw away twoweeks’ worth of travel,hotelsandfood?”She stifled a laugh.

“Don’t worry aboutthat. I’m getting mymoney’s worth out ofthistrip.”“Thisisinsane!Ifyou

don’tagreetogetonthenext bus and meet mehere, I’ll haveno choicebut to call yourparents. I’m tired oftrying to look after youmyself.”“Well, it’s about time

yougavethatup.”Now

she did laugh, but notwithamusement.“ButIcertainlydon’tneedyouto callmyparents. I’mabiggirl.”“Then act like one!”

Jeanine gave anindignant harrumph.“I’m sorry, but I’mleaving for Paristomorrow as planned.You can ruin your ownvacationbutnotmine.”

“Have a great time,”Leahsaid,sincereifnotenthusiastic.“Anddon’tworryaboutme.IknowwhatI’mdoing.”“AllIknowisthatyou

better be in Londontonight. I’ll see youlater.” The phoneclicked and the linewentdead.Shegrimaced.Forthe

benefit of her audience,

she said, “Okay,Jeanine,enjoyyourself.I’llseeyouthen.Good-bye.”She pushed the “off”

button on the receiverand looked at theothers. “That was myfriend, Jeanine. She’sgoing to Paristomorrow.”“But you and Mr.

Traymorewillbestayingwith us?” Lady Isabella

asked, lines etched inher face. She seemedgenuinelyconcerned.LeahlookedatDavid.

“That’swhatyouwant?”“Ido.”“Very good,” her

ladyship said, givingLeahnotimetointerjectanopinion. “Whydon’tyou go upstairs andsettle in? You’vehad atryingday.”Leah almost

whimpered with relief.Shehad tosummonupall of her willpower tokeep herself fromgrabbing David andrunning up to theirroom. Their tentativefootinginthehouseholdrequired a little morepolitenessthanthat.“Thanks very much,”

shesaid. “Canwehelpyou put away yourfamilyrecordsfirst?”

“No . . . I still havesome investigating Iwant to do.” LadyIsabella drew out aleatherboundbook fromthe pile on the table.“Have you seen thisvolume before, MissCantrell?”“No.Thebirthrecords

we checked were all inlarge ledgers. Thatone’smuchsmaller.”“Yes.” She stared at

thecover.“Thisvolumeis among a few familyarchiveswekeep lockedinasafe in the library.I daresay tonight is thefirst time in decadesthatanyonehasopenedthatsafe. Thelockhadto be well oiled beforethe combination wouldwork.”Leah glanced toward

the stairs, then back attheirhostess.“Mylady,

I know Davidappreciatesalltheeffortyou’ve made on hisbehalf, but please don’tfeel you have to combthrougheverydocumentin the house. If yourrecords held any cluestohisbirth,weprobablywould have found themalready.”“I’m not so sure of

that.” She looked up,her sharp gaze darting

betweenthefacesofherguests. “There is onething I’d like you to tellme again before youretire: How did you sayyou two got drenchedthisafternoon?”They looked at each

other, silence hangingover the room whileLeah tried to come upwith a reasonableexcuse for falling in thespring.

Meanwhile,Davidsaidsimply, “We fell in thespring.”Leah’s stomach flip-

flopped as she waitedfor a new onslaught ofinquiry. Instead, herladyship nodded,showing neithersurprise nor curiosity.“I thought so. Well,weshall talk moretomorrow.Goodnight.”“Goodnight,” they

chorused. Leah let hershoulders sag. ShepulledDavidtowardthestaircase, eager toescape furtherquestioning.He must have been

overwhelmed by theevening’s events,himself. As theymounted the stairs andwalkedthroughthehall,he didn’t say a wordabouthaving tosharea

roomwithher.

CHAPTERSEVENTEENDavid strode into the

bedchamber, swatting alock of hair away fromhis eyes. Hewaited forLeah to close the doorbehind them, thentugged at the riotouslydecorated cravat on histwenty-first-centurycostume.Theknotonlyseemed to tighten. “Idon’t know how I kept

my countenancethroughthatdebacle.”“Youweregreat.”She

turned the lock on thedoor handle, testing tosee that it latched. “Ialmost fainted, and I’mnot as involved as youare.”“His lordship’s

disclosures nearlylanded me on the flooras well.” Too unnervedto worry about the

dictates of propriety, hestripped off his jacketand tossed it onto achair. “ImagineSolebury actuallyalteringhiswill to favorme with his unentailedproperties!Canthetalebecredited?”“Idon’tseewhynot.”

She crossed the roomand sat down on thebed. “I’m sure the

familycurseisaloadofbunk, but the contentsof your father’s willmustbedocumented.”“Yes. And, if you

recall,justbeforewelefthim,he saidhehad animportant matter todiscuss with me.” Thememory pierced himwith the first real regrethe’d felt sincedepartingfromthepast.Thathissense of loss centered

on his father startledhim.Hewouldnothaveaccepted Solebury’sattempt at amendsanyway . . . but hewould have liked toreceivetheoffer.“He must have been

talking about his will.”Leahleanedbackonherelbows and kicked offher slippers. “Wouldthe unentailed itemshave amounted to

much?”“Items?” He let out a

short laugh. “Leah, theitems consisted ofproperties--additionalestates.”Hereyesroundedinto

sea-green pools.“Estates? You meansomething along thelinesofthisone?”“Much like Solebury,

though none of the

others are--or were,rather--quite soextensive. Still, thecurrent marquess saidmy father intended toleave them all to me.”He shook his head inawe. “Can his accountbe accurate? If so, Imaywellhavereceivedalarger inheritance thanWilliam.”“Wow.” She dropped

back on the mattress,coveringhermouthwithonehand.“Andyoulostallthatwhenthespringbrought you forward intime.Damnit,youlostyour inheritancebecause of me! If Ihadn’t come into yourlife and caused you somuch worry, you neverwould have followedmehere. You would have

beenarichman.”“No.” He stepped

toward her, but thesight of her bodysprawled on the bedhalted him. The scantmodern dress she worehugged her waist andhips,endingrightbelowthe knee to reveal bothher shins and ankles.He looked away,steering his thoughtsback to the matter at

hand.“Iwouldnothavetakenhismoney.But,Ihave to confess, I amoverwhelmed by theenormityofthegesture.”“Then his action does

mean something toyou?”He swallowed against

a tightening in histhroat.“Itisasthough,foronce,hechoseme...”

“Over William? Yes,he did. Really, whenyou think about it, heneverchoseWilliam.Allhe did was choose tomarry William’smother.”“And that was more

his family’s choice thanhis.” Surprised to hearsuch charitablereasoning emerge fromhis own mouth, hestopped speaking and

turned to the window.Dusk had settled, butbrilliant lamps, fueled--Leah had explained--byelectricity, illuminatedthe park. The powerfullights set dew sparklingin the grass likeglittering fairy dust.Even on a moonlessnight,onewouldbeabletoseeeverystoneonthelane.“I’m not as surprised

as you,” she said fromthe bed. “I knew thatyour father loved andrespected you. Despitethe mistakes he madewhenhewas young, heunderstood enough torecognizeaworthyson.. . as well as anunworthy son. Quitefrankly,Iadmirehimfortrying to keep hisproperty away fromWilliam.Whatanass.”

“An ass?” He swungaroundtolookather.“Ihad the impression youfound him . . . rathercharming.”“Charming?” She

smirked, rolling ontoher side to face him.“Right. Don’t tell meyou thought I’d fall forthat insincere chivalryhereeks.”“I don’t know.” He

scarcely believed his

ears, but theamusement on her facelooked genuine. Couldshe indeed not havebeen attracted to hisbrother?“Oh, please.” She

rolled her eyes towardthe ceiling. “Giveme alittle more credit thanthat.”“But if William’s

attentions didn’t affectyou,whydidyoudecide

to discard your ringwhen he asked aboutit?”“My ring?” Her

eyebrows crunchedtogether then partedagain. “I guess I didmention that plan tohim, but I made thedecision before meetinghim. You mean youthought I wanted to lethim know I was a free

woman?”He shrugged,

prompting a tinklinglaugh from her. Heramusement might havemortified him, if thegood news hadn’t lefthimtoopleasedtocare.“The conclusion seemedreasonableatthetime.”“Not at all, I’m

afraid.” She watchedhis face, her smilesoftening. “Did you

really think I preferredhimoveryou?”The caressing tone

she used implied theopposite,andhefelthisbloodquicken.“He is, by far, the

moreeligible.”“Is he?” Her eyes

gleamed, glints of greencontrasting with theburnished flecks in herloosehair.She entranced him.

Hewantedtoknowifhemeant anything to her.“Ishenot?”“Well, he’s not even

here--but you mustrealize that even in thenineteenth century, youcame out ahead ofhim.” She paused, butwhen he waited formore, she obliged him.“Betweenthetwoofyou,you have all theintegrity, more good

looksand,afterwhatwelearned tonight,mostofthewealth.”He had hoped for a

more personal answer,butherlogicalapproachbrought a new point tolight. Until thatmoment, he had notthought of oneimportant privilege hisfather’s amends wouldhave afforded him: themeanstoofferforLeah.

Sheappearedtocareforhimand,ifshefeltonlyhalfwhathedidforher,she might haveconsented to be hiswife. If so, he couldhave had herimmediately--withouthaving to spend yearstrying to establishhimself.Now,hehadtowait . . .andwhoknewforhow long? Heknewnothing of the world in

whichhe’dhavetobuildhisfortune.“Why the grim face?”

she asked. “I thoughtmy overt flattery wouldplease you. I’d beinsultedbyyour lackofresponseifIdidn’tknowyou’re probably asexhausted as I am. Doyou realize how longwe’ve been up? Thetime transport extendedourday.”

He looked into hereyes and knew theimportant thing wasthat he had the chanceto win her. He hadnever wanted anythinghanded to him.Whatever wasworthwhile in life wasworthworkingfor.“Iamweary,nowthat

I think about it,” hesaid.

“Have a seat.” Shedrew up toward theheadboard, leavingspaceforhimatthefootofthebed.His gaze dropped to

themattress--ontheonebedinthechamber.Heglanced about,wondering where hecould sleep. The twowooden chairs in theroom looked hard and

unsteady, useless forconstructinganysortofpallet.“Not on one of those

uncomfortable chairs--over here.” She pattedthespotbesideher.He hesitated. She

looked so enticing,languishingonherside,her slim waist and thelush rise of her hipenhanced by theposture. Her lips

curved in anencouragingsmile.Allatonce,herecalled

the discussion they’dhad the night hebroughtherbacktothegate house. She hadhinted at a “future”societywhereunmarriedadults might make lovewithoutsocially ruinousconsequences. GoodLord! Now, he lived inthat world with her!

Lady Isabella’s pairingthem together for thenighttestifiedasmuch.The implications stirredhis loins, set his heartracing. Dared he joinheronthebed?“It’s all right, David.”

Her smile faded intosober lines. “We’ve satnext to each otherbefore.”Andendedup in each

other’s arms! Hecontinued to balk,wondering how oneconducted modernlovemaking. Should hetell her he loved her?He did love her, herealized, but in a worldwhere unmarriedcouples cavorted freely,the sentiment mighthavebecomelaughable.What exactly did sheexpect from him?

Coming from this freesociety, she probablyhad experience in thisarena--perhaps evenmore than he,consideringalltheyearshe’d spent in themilitary.Whatevertheanswers,

his uncertainty didn’tunsettle him enough todecline her invitation.He stepped forward,gaze locked with hers.

Gingerly, he sat downon the bed, leaving aprudent space of sixinches between them.He didn’t have theaudacity to lie back asshehad.“Letmehelpyouwith

your tie.” She sat upand unknotted hiscravat, her fingersskimming the skinunder his chin. Hisneckfelthotassheslid

the long, narrow clothout from his collar.“Yousmellgood.”“I do?” His voice

sounded husky to hisown ears. She wasn’tnaive, and she wouldknow where histhoughts had strayed.Might she actuallyexpecthimtomakeloveto her? He fought toslow the tightening inhis groin. “I shouldn’t

thinkso,afterallofourtraveling.”“That fresh spring

watermust have rinsedaway the dirt of theroad.” She leanedcloser,herbreathwarmon his throat. “Youdon’t smell like thatcologne you usuallywear.”“Iapologize--”“No, I like your

natural scent.” She

smiled and lowered hergaze,thefirstindicationthat she felt shy aswell.Whenshereachedto unbutton his collar,he detected a tremblingin her touch. At leastsome of her boldness,he deduced, came onlywithaneffort.“WhatdoIsmelllike?”

hemurmured.She continued

undoing his shirt,

centering her gaze onhis chest rather thanmeetinghis eyes. “LikeDavid Traymore--warmandbrimmingwithlife...anunpinnedgrenadeabouttoexplode.”He didn’t know what

sort of grenade shemeant, but, yes, he feltan explosion mountingwithin him. With eachbrush of her fingers,lower and lower on his

torso, his body teeteredinto a more precariousstate.He took her chin in

his hand and tilted herfaceup to look intohereyes. “Leah, I am notcertainhow togoaboutthis...”“Oh, yes, you are.”

Finished with hisbuttons, she focusedhergazeonhismouth.She reached up and

grazedafingeralonghislowerlip.“Iknowyou’reperfectlycertainwhattodo.”Her confidence

convinced him he did.He slipped his hand upfrom her chin to cradlethesideofherface.Herhair felt silky on hisfingers, her cheek softand warm against hispalm. He leanedforward and touched

her lips with his,savoring the taste ofher, relishing the faintscent of rosewater thatstilllingeredabouther.He intended to bridle

his passions, but hedidn’t count on herhungry response. Shereturned his kiss withall the ardor he hadmeanttodelay,kindlingembers that burneddeep in his body. Her

lipsparted, invitinghimto meet the moistwarmth of her tongue.He dipped into hermouth and withdrew totaste her lips, repeatingand varying the motionlike an ever-changingdance. She matchedhimateverymove,theirminds and bodies raptininstinctiveunison.“Letmehelpyouundo

your dress,” he

whispered against hermouth. Still kissingher, he reached aroundandslidhishandacrosshershoulderblades.Hefoundthetabhesoughtand pulled the zippingdevice downward. Theease of the task madehim smile against herlips. “With thesemodern fasteners, youno longer need myhelp.”

“I like having it,anyway.” She spokesoftly, breathlessly.“Helpmesomemore.”“My pleasure.” He

gave up her mouth inorder to look at her.Her hair hung free,flowing like claret tocreate a brilliant framefor her creamycomplexion.Onesideofher dress had fallen toexpose a perfect

shoulder.Hedroppedhisgazeto

her decolletage, grazingher exposed collarbonewith the backs of hisfingers. As he slippedhis hand under herloosened neckline, thedraped fabric fell fromherothershoulder.Modern

undergarments left littleunexposed, and he let

hisfingertipsglidedownthe sides of her barelyswathed breasts.Marveling at hergracefulform,heranhishandsoverthecontoursof her ribs and theyielding warmth of herslender belly. As hepushed her dressdownward, he skimmedher firm thighs, thenretracedapathupoverherhipsandwaist.

Shereachedbackandundidhersparsebodicepiece, the slackenedgarment revealing moreof her luscious curves.Heslidhishandsup tosavorthesoftflesh,andthe garment fell fromher,unveilingher lovelybreasts.With one last hard

stare into her eyes, heslid his arms aroundher body and lowered

her onto the mattress.Hetookonepinknippleinhismouth,thetendertip instantly pebblingagainsthistongue.She sucked in her

breath and pulled himcloser, digginghernailsinto his back.Intoxicatedbyhertaste,her warmth, her scent,helosthimselfinaswirlof sensation, devouringher like some sort of

magicalelixir lacedwithsugar, fortified brandyandrosepetals.She wriggled beneath

him, conforming to himsnugly. He felt herfingers in his hair,tightening as her bodyflexed against his. Sheslid her hand down hisjaw and lifted his faceupsohelookedather.“Come up here,” she

whispered.

He lingered inpartingwith her breast thenmoved up to take hermouth again. Shekissed him back,squeezing her handbetween their bodies tounfasten his breeches.The binding fabric gaveway, and he felt thedizzying warmth of herhand on his achingshaft.Spellbound, he

deepenedhiskiss. Shepressed her hips intohis, the timelessmovement blinding hismindwith thedemandsofinstinct.Hehadnoneofthepatienceheoughtinordertomakelovetoher properly. Hecouldn’twaitanylonger.“Leah.” He moaned

andpulledback to lookintoher eyes. “Leah, itfeels like I have wanted

youforever...”“Shhhh.” Her gaze

boredintohiseyes,andher breath came inpuffs. Before he knewwhat she intended, sheshimmied out of herstrange connectedstockings, then reachedup to slide his shirt offhisshoulders.Quick to join her, he

kickedoffhisshoesandscrambled out of his

breeches. With ahungry survey of hernaked beauty, he swepther into his arms againand fell down on themattresswithher. Sheparted her legs, and hesank between herthighs, his entire bodypounding withconsciousness of theprecipice they perchedupon.“Kiss me, David,” she

murmured.He stretched to take

her lips again, keenlyaware of the soft heatengulfing his loins atthe core of her body.She squirmed to fitmore snugly aroundhim, and he pressedback, feasting on hermouth. She wriggledagain and, with nothought or self-guidance,hefelthimself

dipinsideofher.They both gasped.

Staring hard into herwide eyes, he pushedinto her, captivated byhow slick and hot shefelt.Sheclosedhereyesand let her head dropback, pressing her hipsupward to take himdeep inside her. Shewanted him, and theknowledge made himmad with hunger for

her. He should havebeen careful, shouldhave been considerate,buthe could thinkonlyof getting into herdeeper, harder, till theybecameoneinbodyandsoul.He needn’t have

concerned himself forLeah’s sake. Before hereached a critical state,she cried out andshuddered beneath

him. Frenzied by hermoans and the dizzyingcontractions of herbody, he thrust deeperinto her, quicklyfollowing her with hisownshatteringorgasm.He spilled his seed

deepwithinher,holdingher tightly. For thatinstant, nothing elsemattered--nothing onearth, nothingthroughout time--only

that he and Leah hadbecomeone.When he could, he

openedhiseyesandsawthat she watched him.Her face pinkened anddewy with perspiration,she looked radiant--likean angel or anenchantress. He wipedtraces of tears from thecorners of her eyes,longing to ask why shecried but preferring to

make his ownconclusion. He hopedher emotions hadmatchedhisown.He kissed her gently

andliftedhisbodytoliebeside her. Shesnuggled intohis chest,and they lay in silentcommunion for sometime. Hewanted to tellher he loved her butdidn’t knowwhether hewould sound daft or

antiquated. Instead,hekissedherhair, strokedher arms, wonderingwhatthefutureheldforthem.Wouldshemarryhim? Did people stillmarry, given that sexout of wedlock wasaccepted?Shehadtoldhim her parents hadmarried,butonlyduetoherownconception.So, an illegitimate

child was stillconsideredundesirable.His stomach turnedover, ending his briefperiod of absolutecontentment.Abastardwasstillunacceptableinthis society. He wouldbeunacceptable.“What is it, David?”

Leah asked. “You’re alltense.”He tried to swallow

thesourfeelingbuthadnosuccess.“Leah,howdoes your society viewsomeone . . . someoneborn like me --out ofwedlock?”“At a time like this,

you’re worried aboutbeing illegitimate?” Shehugged him. “No one’sgoing to know anythingabout your birth,anyway. We can’t verywell tell people the

truth.”“But you and I know

the truth. And I don’twant to lie to others. Ishall conceal what Ihave to, but I won’tpretend IamsomethingotherthanwhatIam.Iam a bastard now, assurely as I was in thenineteenthcentury.”“All right, if that’s the

way you feel, but youstill have no reason to

worry. I’d say there’spretty much no stigmaattached to that labelanymore.”“You’d ‘say’?” He

frowned at her. “Thatsounds ambiguous. Isuspect there is astigma, Leah, or whywould your parentshave felt compelled tomarry against theirwill?”

She shifted onto herside, propping herselfupononeelbowto facehim. “That was morethan a quarter-centuryago,andmyparentsaresort of old-fashionedanyway.”“So your father does

not look kindly uponbastards?”She grinned and

shookherhead.“Idon’tthink he cares either

way.”“I disagree. If he

married yourmother toensure your legitimacy,thenhemustcare.”“I doubt that avoiding

social stigma was hisonlyconcern.Thereareotherreasonstobringachild up with twoparents-- supportivereasons,bothfinanciallyand emotionally.Besides, what do you

care what my fatherthinks? Youdon’thavetoanswertohim.”Ah, but he did, if he

wanted to marry theman’s daughter. Buther statement made itclear she wasn’tthinking of marryinghim--even after theirsoul-wrenchinglovemaking. Herindifference dismayed

him. He had hertonight, but he wantedher forever. How longwouldshewanthim?“Come here, David,”

she said, wrapping herarmsaroundhim.“Youlook soworried. Forgetaboutmyfather.”“Itisnotsosimple--”“Then let me make it

simple.” She dug herfingersintohishairandpulled him toward her,

taking his mouth in aravaging kiss. Hertongue captivated him,and the press of herbody against hisenthralledhim.In short, her tactics

worked. With hersensuality engulfing hiswhole being, he carednot one whit about herfather--nor anythingelsebuther.

CHAPTEREIGHTEENSomething woke Leah

up--a rapping sound ofsome sort. Blinkingagainst the sunlight,she focused on David,still asleep beside her.She smiled andsnuggled closer to him,forgettingthenoise.Hewas here--in her bed.She knew it must be

late, but she let hereyelidsclose.Therewasnoreasontogetup.. .ever.Someone tapped at

the door--again, sherealized.“Miss Cantrell?” a

hoarse whisperpenetrated the cracks.“I’m terribly sorry,Miss.Areyouawake?”“Yes,” she whispered

back, lifting her head.

Lady Isabella hadprobably sent a servantto get her lazy guestsoutofbed.Butwhoeveritwashadaskedforherand not David. Shewonderedwhy. “Just aminute.”Shetriedtoslipoutof

bed without disturbingDavid, but he felt hermovement and stirred.Hesquinted in thesun,his hair stark black

against the pillowcase.Sleepinghaderasedanyremnant of his frequentfrown. He lookedaround the room,probably trying toremember where hewas.“Go back to sleep,”

she murmured,smiling. She’d neverseen him look sovulnerableandfeltatugof love so unrestrained

it scared her. Whatwouldshedoifthepasttook him back? Maybeifhesimplyavoided thespring . . . but shedidn’t know whetherhe’dwanttoavoidit.Ifhe wanted to return tothe past, could sheconvince him to stay?Or could she go backwithhim? She thoughtshewould, if itwas theonlywaytobewithhim.

A tap soundedagain.“MissCantrell?”“I’m coming.” She

leaned over and kissedthe little black bristlesthat grazed his cheek.His skin felt hot onherlips, and he smelledfamiliar andcomforting.Hewatchedwith a sleepy smile assheputonhisshirtandcrackedopenthedoor.“Yes?” she asked a

uniformed maid whofidgetedinthehall.The freckle-dusted

young redhead wrungher hands. “Terriblysorrytowakeyou,miss,butyour father’son thetelephone.”“My father?” She

jerked the door openwider.“Yes, miss. The

housekeeper told himyou were still in bed,

but he’s quite insistentonspeakingtoyou.”A sick lump rose in

herthroat.“Didhe...did he say why he’scalling?”The maid shook her

head. “I don’t believeso,miss,butthematterseems urgent.Otherwise, we wouldn’thavedisturbedyou.”Her stomach lurched atthe thought of several

possible disasters athome--then sheremembered Jeanine’sthreat to call herparents. Of course.Jeanine had talked toher father. How elsewouldhehaveknowntocall her at SoleburyHouse?Shelookedbacktosee

if David had beenfollowing theconversation. He’d

propped himself up onhis elbows, the familiarfrown restored to hisface. She guessed herown expression lookedsimilar.“Don’t worry,” she

said to him. “I have agood idea what this isabout. I’ll be rightback.”She pulled his shirt

more tightlyaroundherand ducked into the

hall, closing the doorbehind her. The maidled her to a nearbyalcove furnished with achair, tableandphone.The girl scurried awayas Leah picked up thereceiver.“Hello?”“Leah!” her father’s

voiceboomedacrosstheAtlantic. “What thehell’s going on overthere?”

She rolled her eyesand cleared her sleep-clouded vocal chords.“Why, I’m having awonderful time,Daddy.Whatasurprisetohearfrom you. I guessJeaninemust have toldyouwheretoreachme.Did she tell you I’menjoying England somuch I’ve decided tospend my wholevacationhere?”

Maybe my whole life,shethought.“EnjoyingEngland!Is

that how you describethis stunt of yours?From what Jeaninesays,England’senjoyingyou--or at least oneEnglishpunkis.”“Punk?” Despite her

tension, she giggled.Her father apparentlypicturedherwithoneofthe mohawked fashion

platesthathadhauntedPiccadilly Circus in theeighties. “So you’reconvincedI’mdatingSidVicious?”“Veryfunny,Leah,but

you’re not datinganyone. You’re actinglike a lovesick teenager,clinging onto the firstidiot who pays anyattention to you.” Herfather’s voice cracked.

His anger must haverun deeper than she’dexpected. “Well, youbetter come to yoursenses fast, girl. Whaton earth are youthinking,stayingbehindin a foreign country allalone? Jeanine isworriedsickaboutyou!”Her brief amusement

faded, replaced byannoyance. “There’snoreason for Jeanine–or

you–to worry. I’m notalone and, for a foreigncountry, England isn’tvery foreign. In fact,London reminded a lotofPhilly.”“I don’t care what

London reminded youof. You’re not even inLondon. You’retraipsing around themiddle of . . . ofwherever you are. Ialways knew you didn’t

havemuchsense,butatleast up till now youwere never one forrebound romances.What a time to start! Ican’t believe youtrashed a wholevacationforsomepasty-facedEnglishman.Whoisthisjerkwhohasyoumaking a fool ofyourself?”“I’mnotmakingafool

of myself--and I’m not

ontherebound,either.”Her grip tightened onthereceiver. Her fatherhad a knack for fillingherwith self-doubt, butthis time she knew herownmind.“Asamatteroffact,I’vebeenmakingsome of the smartestdecisionsofmylife.”“Wastingthousandsof

dollarsworthoftravelissmart? And shackingupwithsomefellowyou

justmet?”“I’m staying with his

family,Dad.” “Asthoughyou

know them any better!Good God, Leah, theycould all be axmurderers.”She held back a

humorless laugh. “Idon’t think so. They’reanoldfamily--alotmorerespectable than any Iknow at home. They’re

eventitled.”“So what does that

mean--they’rerich?Isittheir money that hasyououtofyoursenses?”“All of my senses are

intact.” She felt heatrisingunderthecollarofDavid’s shirt. “Anyway,the Traymores don’thavemoney.”“So you’re impressed

by this title thing--orsome other sort of

English pomp.Whatever this newbuddy of yours has,you’llseeitslipthroughyour fingers quickenough. He doesn’tknow you and can’tpossibly care aboutyou. He probablyexpectedyoutomoveonto Paris by now. Sinceyou haven’t, he’ll gettired of you any day.Then you’ll come

running home andsubjectyourmotherandme to a month’s worthofmoping.”Onlyafewweeksago,

his tirade would haveleveled her. Now, shepuffed up her chest,furious that he put notrust in her judgment.“I’ll tell you what, Dad:If I have a reason tomope, I’ll make sure Idon’t bother you with

it. And if I end uphappier than everbefore, maybe I’ll stillleave youalone. Is twothousand miles farenoughawayforyou?”“You’re threatening to

stay in England?” Hisvoiceshook.“Well,thatplan’ll last about fiveminutes! Hold on.Someone else herewantstotalktoyou.Heshould have better luck

gettingthroughtoyou.”“He?NotMom?”But her father had

gone.“Leah?” a familiar

baritoneasked.Her stomach churned

as soon as sherecognized the voice.“I’m sorry, Kevin, butI’mnot in themood forthis. Canwetalksomeothertime?”

“Wait, babe, I need toknow what’s going onwithyou.”“I’m having a

wonderful time, as thepostcards always say--but, sorry, I don’t wishyouwerehere.”“Look,babe,I’vereally

missed you since youleft.” He had taken onhis sensitive tone, theone that never quite

soundedsinceretoher.“Having an oceanbetween us has put anew perspective onthings.”“It surehas. But the

fact remains that youbroke off ourrelationship. Since Ihave no desire torekindle those dousedembers, we havenothing to talk about.Tell Dad not to bother

wasting another one ofhisquarters.”“Wait, Leah! When

willIhearfromyou?”“Idon’tknow. Maybe

I’ll be in Philly in a fewweeks. Maybe I’ll justsend you a weddinginvitation. Cheers!”Shehungup thephoneandtookadeepbreath,startled by the wordsthathadtumbledoutofher mouth. She’d

implied she and Davidmight be gettingmarried.Mightthey?Thedoortotheirroom

swung open, and hestoodintheframe,nudefrom the waist up.Wisps of hair sprinkledhis well muscled chest,dwindling as theyarroweddownhistorso.The faint trail luredhergaze downward, endingatthelow-slungwaistof

his borrowed pants. Ifthey’dbeenasizelarger,theywouldn’tevenhavestayedup...She grinned. For her

part, she was ready toapplyforthelicense.“Why in creation are

you smiling?” he asked,his own featuresformingafrown.“Fromyour raised tones, Igather you and yourfather had a row. Is

there a problem athome?”“Whatdoesitmatter?

There isn’t one here.”She got up and slippedher arms around him,running her hands overthe smooth, hardmuscles of his back.“Didyousleepwell?”“Better than I should

havedone.”Heglancedup and down the hallandsteeredherintothe

bedroom. “Wehadbestcome back inside.Between the two of us,wehavescarcelyenoughclothingonforone.”“Yet still too much,”

she said, kicking thedoorshutbehindthem.She reached tounbuttonhispants.“Oh, Leah.” He

grabbed her hand andpressed her palm flatagainst his belly. “Tell

me why your fathercalled.”“Jeaninegothimriled

up.” She spread herfingers acrosshiswarmskin, rubbing herthumb over his firmabdominal muscles.They rippled at hertouch, and she smiled.“IguessshetoldhimI’dlost my head over aperfect stranger--perfect

being the operativeword.”“Not for your father, I

daresay. Naturally, hecannotapproveofme.”“I’mtheonehedoesn’t

approve of. He doesn’teven know you.” Sheleaned forward to kisshischest,buthecaughther chinand forcedhertomeethisgaze.“He knows your other

suitor, though--the one

whogaveyouthering?”She tiltedherhead to

one side, surprised bythe tightness in histone.“DidyouhearmetalkingtoKevin?”“Is Kevin his name?

And your father and heweretogether?”She shrugged, letting

her focus drop back tothe scattered curls onhis chest. “Theyprobably called from

work.Theysellcarsforthe same dealer, bothhaving a talent for . . .persuasion, to put itnicely.”“Your father clearly

favors this Kevinfellow.” He ran a handthroughhishair. “Howfarhasthisgone,Leah?Havetheyspokenabouta marriage settlement?Is thatwhy you left theStates?”

“Oh, David.” Shegrinned, gently pushinghim backwards towardthebed.“Wedon’thavemarriage settlementsnowadays--not where Icomefrom.”He studied her eyes,

evidently notconvinced. “Leah, wemustdiscussthis.Yourfather’s wishes have tobeconsidered--”

“Rightnow,mywisheshavetobeconsidered.Iinsist on it.” She gavehim a forceful hug thatamounted to a tackle.They fell onto themattress, and shekissed him hard untilthe furrows in hisforeheadsoftened.His response turned

hungryquickly,butshepulledback to look intohis eyes. Brushing his

hairawayfromhisface,she said, “Unless youwant to present a caseforconsideringyours?”Hepulledherback to

his mouth, apparentlyno longer interested indiscussion.

****“So you managed to

rise and shine in timefor dinner,” LadyIsabella remarked asthey entered the dining

room hours later. Sheand the marquess hadtakentheirplacesatoneendof the table, but sofar only the bread hadbeen served. Herladyship picked up aroll, poising it betweenthumb and forefinger.“Have you been tappingat the walls for hiddenpassages all day, or isthe honeymoon toosweettoleaveoff?”

Therewasanewedgeof hostility in thewoman’s voice, andLeahglancedatDavidtoseehowhereacted.Helooked down at thehardwood floor, hischeekssingedwithred.She guessed Isabella’simplicationsembarrassed him toomuch to surprise him.He didn’t know enoughabout contemporary

moral standards torealize he should beoffended.Shesupposedshe’dhavetobetheonetorespond.She took him by the

arm and lifted her chinto look down at theirhostess. “Judging byyourtone,Itakeitwe’veoutstayedourwelcome.Well, we won’t imposeon you any longer, mylady, your lordship.

Thank you for yourhospitality. Come on,David. Let’s get ourthingsandgo.”“Nonsense!” the

marquessexploded,veryloudly for a man wholooked so frail. “Howcould my boy outwearhis welcome in his ownhouse? And, my dearMiss Cantrell, yourcompany is a pleasure.Isabella, what bee have

yougotinyourbonnet?Why would you try toembarrassDavyandhisyoungladylikethis?”Her ladyship pursed

her lips, settingher rollbackdownonachippedWedgwood plate.“Jonathan, I’ve tried toexplain to you that thisyoung man is not yourson--”“I’ll hear no more of

that talk!” Blotches of

pink marred hisnormally palecomplexion. “Now, youput an end to theseunworthyinsinuations.”“Jon, please. I don’t

want to upset you, butI--”“Apologize now,

Isabella!” The rednessinhischeeksdeepened,and Leah began toworry that he mighthaveastrokeoraheart

attack.Lady Isabella must

have had the samethought, because sheswallowedandturnedtoher guests. “Praypardon me. Won’t youhaveaseat?Please.”All Leah wanted was

to get out of there, butat themoment, calmingthe marquess seemedthe most importantthing. She and David

looked at each other,and he stepped forwardto pull out a vacantchairatLordSolebury’sleft. Whenhemotionedfor her to sit, she did,blinking away herreluctance.Hetooktheseatnexttoher.An expressionless

manservant entered theroom and splashed adollop of red wine intohis lordship’sglass. He

waited for the old manto sample the vintageand nod his approvalbefore pouring for therestof the table. Whenfinished, he lifted oneeyebrow to hisemployer.“Have you taken care

of that little task Iassigned you, Warner?”themarquessasked.“Yes,m’lord.”“Very good.” Lord

Solebury watched himleave the room, thenlooked at David. “I’vehad Warner gather upyour personal papers.You should find yourbirth certificate,passport and such inyour room when youretire.”David shot a wide-

eyed look at LadyIsabella, who frowned,then gave him a slight

nod.“Thank you, sir,” he

said to the marquess.He lifted his glass andtookasip,eyes focusedonthewine.His lordship glanced

at his sister, as ifwaiting for her tochallenge him. Sheturned her attention tobuttering her roll, andhe looked back toDavid.“Mrs.Pickfordis

searching through theattic for the trunkscontaining yourclothes. Of course,she’ll need to launderthem before you canwear them again. Nodoubt they smell ofcamphor.”Leahdownedagulpof

wine. How far couldthis game go? Thelonger she and Davidstayed at Solebury

House, the morecomplicated thesituationgot.Sheslidapeekathim,buthekeptstaring into his glass,giving no clue whetherornothealsowantedtoescape. He probablydidn’t. Themodern-dayTraymores served himas a sort of anchor inunexplored waters--buthowstableananchor?The marquess took a

sip from his glass andset the drink down towobble on the table. “Ialso spoke with mysolicitor today. He’sdrawing up a new willforme.”Lady Isabella gasped.

“What?”He glared at her.

“Obviously,Davyhas tobe reinstated as myheir. And I warn you Iwon’t tolerate any

arguments about this,Isabella.”She bit her lip.

“Arguingwithyouisthelast thing I want to do,Jon,butIcannotsimplystandbywhileyouhandover your estate andtitletoanimposter.”“Davy is not an

imposter!”“He is, Jon.” She

leaned forward to put ahandonhisarm,buthe

pulled away. “I realizethese two young peopleseemniceenough,butIreviewed more of thefamily records lastnight, and I knowthey’ve assumed falsenames from ourhistory. I can’t imaginehow they heard familystoriesthatImyselfcanbarely remember--perhapsMr.Traymoreisindeedadistantrelation

of ours. But he’sdefinitely not your son,and this young womanis certainly not LeahCantrell.”AsLeahandDavidsat

speechless, themarquess’s respirationquickened and his paleeyes bulged. “Isabella,whyareyoudoingthis?Have you lost yourwits?”Herladyshipdrewina

shaking breath. “Jon,dear, forgive me, but Imust ask you to thinkback to the story of thesixthmarquess.Doyouremember the name ofthegirlwhodisappearedwith his son? It wasLeah Cantrell. I knewthe name soundedfamiliar as soon as wemet this young woman,but I couldn’t place ituntil I reread the

marchioness’s journal.I’m certain these twomeantoswindleyou.”His lordship’s small

body now rocked witheach breath. Leahdebated whether sheshould run and get aservant to call anambulance.AsforLadyIsabella’s accusations,she couldn’t imaginehow to answer them.David’s silence showed

hehadnoidea,either.LordSoleburyheldup

atremblingfinger.“Youyourself have pointedout what a shockingamount of debt thisestate has amassed,Isabella. I am, quitefrankly, ashamed toleave the boy a legacythat may well neverprove anything but aburden. Under suchcircumstances, what

could anyone hope togain by posing as myheir?”His sister hesitated,

again swallowing. “Ihaveafewsuspicions.”Davidgotup.“Pardon

me, but while I canassure your ladyshipthatMissCantrellandImean no ill to you oryourbrother, I fearthatonly our departure willconclusively

demonstrate ourgoodwill. Leah, love,comewithme.”“No!” The marquess

slammedhis fist on thetable,rattlingthecrystalstemware.“Youwillnotleave me again, son.Isabella, see whatyou’ve--oh!”Lord Solebury

clutched at his chest.His sister sprang up,her chair skidding

backward to crash onthefloor.Sherushedtoher brother’s side,shouting,“Warner!Mrs.Pickford! Anyone,comequickly!”Theservantsappeared

atthedoorimmediately--probably having hadtheirearspressedtotheotherside.“Call an ambulance,”

Leah said, rising andmoving aside so David

couldstoopbetweenherandthemarquess.“No, ring up Dr.

Allen,” her ladyshipdirected. “He’ll be heresooner. And fetch hislordship’smedication.”The housekeeper and

the man who’d pouredthewineranoff,leavingbehindonlythefreckledgirl who had wokenLeah. Once again, themaid was fidgeting and

wringingherhands.“Find his lordship’s

chair, Mavis,” LadyIsabella commanded,and the girl rushed outthedoor.“Forgiveme,mylord.”

David took themarquess’s handbetween both of his.“Please believe I hadnothought of upsettingyou. You must try tocalm yourself now, or

your illness will onlyworsen.”Lord Solebury’s head

drooped, and he didn’trespond.The door burst open

again, and the olderfemale servant bustledin. “Here are hislordship’spills,ma’am.”Shehadalreadyopenedthebottleandheldoutahandful of glisteningcapsules.

Lady Isabellasnatched one andplaced it under herbrother’s tongue. Shetook a goblet of waterfrom the table andhelditnearhisbluishlips.“Try to drink some of

this,dear.”After a few seconds,

his breathing calmedand he took a sip fromtheglass.Hissisterpickedupa

napkin and dabbed atthe perspiration on hisforehead. “I’m sorry,Jon. I’m so sorry. Ioverstepped mybounds. Of course,Davidwillstayhere.I’llmake no moreobjections. Your affairsareyourownconcern.”The marquess closed

his eyes and sat back,breathing deeply butmore easily. His

medication had helpedquickly. After a fewmore breaths, heopened his eyes andlooked at David. “Iapologize . . . I shall bemyself again shortly. Ihope your aunt hasn’tupsetyoutoomuch,myboy. She’s an oldwomanandhasstrangeideas. Youmust try toforgiveher.”“There is nothing to

forgive,” he said. HemetLadyIsabella’sgazebefore looking back toLord Solebury. “Shehas your best interestsat heart, as well sheshould.”“Yes, yes, I know she

does.” He reached outand patted his sister’shand. “No harm done,Isabella. I’ll be fine.And Davy will bestaying--won’t you, my

boy?”“Ofcourse.”Leah’s jaw dropped,

but she clamped hermouth shut again.Naturally, they wouldhave to stay. LordSolebury’s healthwouldn’t withstand anyfurther stress rightnow. They would haveto figure out a way todisillusionhimasgentlyaspossible. Itwouldn’t

beaneasyjob.“Mavis is bringing

your chair around,Jonathan.” LadyIsabella’s lower lip stillquivered. “Would youliketowaitforDr.Alleninyourbedroom?”“Might as well. I’ve

notmuchofanappetitenow. Have a tray sentto me later, Mrs.Pickford,won’tyou?”The housekeeper

nodded. The dooropened, held by Maviswhile the man calledWarner rolled awheelchair into theroom. He and Davidhelped his lordship intotheseat.LadyIsabellaarranged

ablanketonhislapandtook her place behindthe chair. Sheaddressed David andLeah without

expression. “I shall seemy brother to his roomandtakemydinnerwithhim. There’s no needfor you two to interruptyour meal. Jonathanwillbefinenow.Hehasthese little attacks oncein awhile. He alwaysrecoversswiftly.”She steered the chair

toward the door, againheldopenbythemaid.“You will let us know

what the doctor says?”David called after themas they moved into thehall.Isabella looked back,

eyes narrowed, thennodded. Leaning downtoherbrother,shesaid,“Excuse me a moment,Jon.Iwanttofetchmywine.”She retraced her

steps,lettingthedoortoswing closed behind

her. Retrieving herglass, she gave DavidandLeahahard stare.“You’renotgoingtofindanything,youknow.”They exchanged

puzzledglances.Lady Isabella sniffed.

“Don’t you think eachgeneration before youhas already examinedeveryinchofthisplace?Jon and I did soourselves--when we

werechildren.Whenwegrew a little older, wecame to see ourgullibility. If only youtwo would use yourheads, you would seeyours, as well. Enjoyyourmeal.”Shesweptthroughthe

door, letting it bangshut.DavidlookedatLeah.

“Do you suppose shesuffers from a milder

version of her brother’ssenility?”“Shemust.Whatelse

could explain that lastwarning?” Unsteadyonher feet, Leah sat downand sipped her wine.“Sheseemedsensibleuptill now, but ourshowing up must haveadded a lot of stress toher life. And readingabout us in Phoebe’sdiary must have been

strangeforher.Maybe,subconsciously, shesuspects who we reallyare. That would beenough to drive anyoneto the brink of abreakdown.”He swirled his wine,

watching the miniaturewhirlpoolinhisglass.“Ihope we haven’t donetoo much harm here.Perhaps I shouldn’thave accepted their

invitation to dinneryesterday. I let mycuriosity overtake mycommonsense.”“No, David, don’t

questionyourdecision.”She scooted her chairclosertohisandputherarm around hisshoulders. “I think itwasmorethancuriositythat kept you atSolebury House. TheTraymores are your

closest family--and,from what we’ve seen,you’re theirs. Maybethey need you. Maybethey’re part of thereason you’ve beenbroughttothiscentury.”He looked up at her,

and his frown began tomelt. “Do you trulybelieveso?”“I think it’s very

possible.”He smiled slightly,

brushinghercheekwiththebacksofhisfingers.“What a pity that LadyIsabella and themarquess must spendtheir golden yearswatching their homeand their heritagecrumble. If there isanythingat all I candotohelpthem,Icertainlywill.”“Ofcourseyouwill.If

there’sanyway tohelp,

Iknowyou’llfindit.”But what can he do?

shethought.Savinganestate like Soleburywouldtakeafortune.Awaveofsadnesswashedover her, and she triedtohold it off by leaningforward and kissinghim. His lips werewarmand tasted faintlyofBordeaux.The bang of the door

opening made themjump apart as themanservant returnedwith two steamingcovered trays. “Yourdinner, madam, sir.Pardonthedelay.”Reluctantly, Leah sat

up in her chair andpicked up her napkin.Warner set down herfood and uncovered theplate, but she staredahead without seeing.

David would haveenough trouble learninghow to support himselfinthesetimes, letalonerescuinghisrelatives.She sighed. Life in

the nineteenth centuryhad seemed difficult.Who would havethought that returningto her own time couldpossibly complicatethingsmore?AtleastsheandDavid

weretogether.Sheonlywished she knew forsure that time wouldn’tstealhimawayfromheragain.

CHAPTERNINETEENDavid stood at the

window, watching theorange streaks of dawnwarm into gold. Thesunlight formed halosaround the highest oakleaves, and rayspenetrated the treetopstoglitterindewdropsonthe lawn. Beautyspanned before him,and beauty lay sleeping

behind him--so whymust ugliness teeminsideofhim?His conscience had

woken him early andpulled him out of bed,away from theimpossible luxury ofLeah’s body. Her softbreathing still beckonedhim, but he didn’t darelook back and permitthegentleriseandfallofher breasts to captivate

him. Hewouldn’tallowher complexion toentrance him--or herhair, magnificentlystrewn over the sheets,tobeguilehim.Hehadnoright.No matter what the

century, it couldn’t berightforhimtoshare her bed. He

shouldhavehadtoearnthat privilege. Beforeevenpresumingtocourt

her, he should havemade his fortune, sohe’d be able to supportherinapropermanner.Then he should havegained her father’sapproval, rather thanthrowing himself in thewayoftheman’swishesfor his daughter. And,of course, he and Leahshould have takenmarriagevowsbeforealltheir friends and

family. Nothingwas asit shouldbe,andundersuch circumstances, hecouldn’tbelieveshewashis.Hedidn’tbelieveit.Linen rustled behind

him, and the antiquebedcreaked.Tinyhairson thenapeofhisneckstood on end, but stillhedidn’tlookback.“David? David, come

backtobed.”

Hefroze,buthecouldfeel his body pullingtoward her. Almostinvoluntarily,heturned,and she gave him asleepysmile.Hehadtogo to her, though heswore not to let himselfslip back between thesheets. Instead, heperched on the edge ofthe mattress--even thatfelt wrong--and took upher hand. Just

touching her fingersmadehisowntingle.He turned her hand

over and kissed herpalm, then let herfingersslidefree.“Goodmorning.”“Goodmorning.” She

bolstered herself up onone elbow, her hairspilling over her bareshoulders. “Come hereandgivemeakiss.”He hesitated only a

second, then leanedforwardtokissherlips.Herbrowfurrowed.“What’s wrong?” She

sat up, pulling thecovers around hershoulders like a cape.The makeshift necklineplunged deep betweenherbreasts,revealinganexpanse of flesh heshouldn’t have beenentitledtosee.He turned away,

picking up a box ofmodern disposablehandkerchiefs from thenightstand. Absently,he fingered the soft,sheer paper--so muchsofterthancloth.“Iam...ratherpreoccupied.”“Couldn’t you sleep?

It’snotevensix-thirty.”She put a hand on hisshoulder,andheclosedhis eyes, nearlyshuddering under her

touch. “Have you beenworrying about themarquess and LadyIsabella?”“Yes.”Helatchedonto

the excuse rather thanadmittinghisreal fears--fears he knew shedidn’t share, havingbeen born and bred inthis strange world.Besides,theexplanationshe’d provided for himheldsometruth;hehad

thought about hisrelatives’ dilemma aswell as his own.Unfortunately, he knewhowtoaddressneither.“Ihaveanideahowto

helpthem,”shesaid,aneagerness in her toneprompting him to faceheragain.Shegrinned,taking her hand fromhis shoulder to sweepher hair back behindherears.“Itcametome

in a dream. I’m notsurehowpractical it is,or if your family mightconsideritbeneaththeirdignity. But they aredesperate,andIthinkitmightbeworthatry.”Hiscuriosityhadbeen

piqued. “What is youridea?”“To make Solebury

House into a bed-and-breakfast.” His face

must have shown hisconfusion, because shewent on to explain, “Abed-and-breakfast islike an inn but offers ahomier, morecomfortableatmosphere. In a caselike this, it would, ofcourse, cater to anupscale clientele. Ithinkitcouldbringinadecent amount ofrevenue.”

“You are suggestingwe convert SoleburyHouseintoaninn?”Heblinked in disbelief.“Surely, you cannot beserious.”“Why not?” She

blinked right back athim. “Older homes areconverted into bed-and-breakfasts all the time.They’reverypopular.”Hefrowned.“Idoubt

that a nobleman such

as the marquess wouldwanttodelveintotrade--especially an area oftrade thatwouldexploithisfamilyhome.”“Youmayberight,but

I know that othernoblemen do it.” Hereyes sparkled, makinghim want to believe inherscheme.“IsawaTVshow on this exactsubject. They touredseveral old English

manors homes, nowopen to guests andoperated by thearistocraticfamilieswhoownthem.”Lord, her mind

worked quickly--seemingly more quicklythanever,nowthatshewas in her own timeperiod.Shespokemorestrangelythanever,too,perplexinghimwith thewordssheusedandthe

conceptsshepresented.He wondered ifcontemporary nobilitycould possibly haveopenedthemselvesuptodirtying their hands intrade--orwasLeahevenfurther removed fromthe attitudes of thenobility than he? Hetried to think like atwenty-first-centuryman but found himselfat a loss. Reevaluating

her statement, heasked, “What is a ‘TVshow’?”She laughed. “Oh,

right. I forgot youhaven’t yet encounteredthat little miracle ofmodern technology.But,ifyoudon’tmind,Ithink I’ll put offintroducing you to aremote control forawhile. The point isthat these days it’s not

uncommon for LordSnob and Lady Toploftytoloungeintheirparlor,declaring in their poshaccents howmuch theylove sitting down withintriguing houseguestsfromallovertheworld.Who knows? MaybeLordSoleburyandLadyIsabella would like thatkind of life, too. Theyalreadyallowtourshere,so they can’t be

completely againstopening their doors tothepublic.”Heremainedskeptical

but did not wish todampen her spirits.“Well, we shall have topresenttheideatothemandseewhattheysay.”“Yes, let’s do that.”

She stretched forwardandgavehimakiss. “Ihave a really goodfeeling about this. I

knowitseemstooeasy--and maybe a littledistasteful to you. Butit’s better than losingthe house, isn’t it? Ihave all sorts of ideasfor the different rooms.Inmydream,thehousewas beautifullyrestored--a lot likePhoebe and your fatherhad it, but with a fewmodifications. I can’twait to talk to the

marquess and LadyIsabellaaboutit.”“They may require

some convincing.” Infact, he suspected herenthusiasm wouldsufferquickdeflationassoon as they broachedthesubject.“Then we have our

work cut out for us.Let’s start by making arespectable appearancethis morning--maybe

even getting downstairsin time for breakfast.”Shegrinnedagain.He agreed, taking the

notion rather moreseriously than she.Their lack of decorumthe day before hadshamedhim. Todayheintended to conducthimself with morepropriety.Shesetabouttakinga

shower--oneofthemost

wonderful newamenitiesDavidhadyetexperienced--and hewasted no time inshaving with theamazing electricinstrument LordSolebury had lent him.As he finishedexamining the job hehad done, a knocksoundedatthechamberdoor.“Your clothing, sir,”

the servant calledWarner announcedwhen David answered.He and the womannamed Mrs. Pickfordfiledintotheroom,armsfilled with freshlylaundered and pressedapparel. The youngermaid, Mavis, followed,carrying two largeportmanteaux. Sheexplainedtheyhadbeenforwarded from London

by Leah’s travelingcompanion.He thanked the

servants,directingthemto stack the late heir’spossessionsonthebed.To refuse the clothesonly would upset themarquess. Inanycase,the dead viscount nolongerhaduseforthem,while he certainly did.Withonlyaminorpang

of guilt, he closed thedoor behind theservants and returnedto inspect his newwardrobe.The contemporary

clothes impressed him.He admired the tiny,perfectstitchingandthevariety of fabrics andprints. Their simplicitysuited him as well--noelaborate cravats toentangle or skin-tight

breeches to squeezeinto. Best of all, thegarments fit socomfortably. Heimagined the stylesmight be a few seasonsoutdated, but Leahcould tell him whichcostumes remainedmostsuitable.“My luggage!” she

exclaimed when sheemerged from thebathroom, enveloped

onlyinatowel.Herlegslooked longer than everunder the meagercovering. “How didthesegethere?”“Yourfriendhadthem

sent,” he said, trying toavert his gaze as sherushed to the cases.“The servants broughtthem up, along withViscount Traymore’sbelongings.”She lifted the smaller

bag onto the dresserand unzipped the top,rummaging through thecontents. “Make-up,blowdryer,ajacket...Jeanine isn’t so bad,after all. After this, Ican almost forgive herforcallingmydad.Let’ssee what yournamesakes has passedontoyou.”On glancing through

the late viscount’s

wardrobe,sheremarkedthatthemanhadshowngood taste. “Not toostuffy for an aristocrat,though I don’t see onepair of jeans here.You’ll have plenty towearforjobhunting.”Shehelpedhimselect

an outfit for the day,andhe tookhis turn inthe shower while shechose her own clothes.They went down to

breakfast in twenty-first-century style. Ashort pale green frockcomplemented Leahperfectly, andDavid feltsophisticated--ratherattuned to thecontemporary era--incomfortable blacktrousers and a wellfittedlong-sleevedshirt.Lady Isabella greeted

them with civility, andthe marquess hailed

themwarmly. Hisgoodcoloring and livelymannerattestedtoafullrecovery, and everyoneavoided mentioning theepisode that had led tohis attack. Instead,conversation centeredon such benign topicsas the mildness of theweatheror the flakinessofthecrescentrolls.After they had

consumed a good

number of the rolls,Leah sat back, sippingcoffee. She winked atDavid and gave theothers a smile. “Davidand I have been tryingtocomeupwithwaystosave the estate, and Ithink I have apossibility. It’s only arough idea, but I’d liketo present it to you, ifyou don’t mind astrangerputtinghertwo

centsin.”Davidshrank,bracing

himselfforanonslaughtof angry words if theirhosts took Leah’ssuggestionforaninsult--an outcome he judgedlikely.“You’re hardly a

stranger, my dear.”Lord Solebury spreadmarmaladeonasliceoftoast with a notablysteadierhand thanhe’d

used the night before.“Practicallyfamily,Iliketo think. We’d behonored to entertainyourideas.”Shesmiled,andDavid

had to admire herconfidence,misplacedornot.“Would you ever

consider convertingSolebury House into abed-and-breakfast?”sheasked, unnerving David

with her bluntness.“Naturally, you’d keeppartofthemanorclosedoff for private use, butthe rooms opened toguestscouldearnyouasubstantial amount ofmoney--a lotmore thanthe tours you conductnow.”Lady Isabella’s mouth

curveddownward,muchas he had expected.“Kind of you to take an

interest, Miss Cantrell,butI’mafraidtheestateis too far gone for suchaplan towork. Few ofthe bedrooms are evenhabitable.”The sarcasm tainting

her voice didn’t appearto daunt Leah. “DavidandIwouldbewillingtohelp with repairs andwhatevercleaningneedstobedone.”The marquess shook

his head, though helooked more regretfulthan annoyed. “I’mafraid Isabella is right,dear. Your offer isgenerous, but yourefforts could never beenoughtosucceed.Theroof of the east wingcollapsed last month,and many of thechamberstherearenowexposed to theelements. We don’t

have any capital forrepairs,letalonefortheadditional help such anundertaking wouldrequire.”Surprisedthatneither

of his relatives hadbroughtup the issue ofpride, David asked, “Ifthe capital could beraised, would you haveotherobjections?”The marquess lifted

hisbrowsandshrugged.

“The question isirrelevant, Mr.Traymore,”LadyIsabellasaid, “unless you havehidden riches you arewilling to invest in theproject.Idon’tsupposeyou happened tostumble across adiamondminewhilelostin the African jungleafter the yachtcapsized?Butyoudon’trecall any of that, do

you? Perhaps whenyour memory returns,you’llrealizeyouhaveatreasure stashed awayon a smallMediterranean island.Then we can discussplans for a bed-and-breakfast.”He felt heat creep up

his neck and lookeddownathisplate.Leah,he noted, had gonesilent.

“We appreciate yourconcern,” the marquesssaid in a gentler tone.“Perhaps if we thinkmore on the matter,we’ll come up with away to implement MissCantrell’splan.”David lifted his gaze

again. His lordshiptrulyseemed to takenoexceptiontooperatingabusiness out of hishome! The well-bred

must be a differentbreed in this age,perhaps havingdisposed of their falsepride entirely--no, likelynot entirely, butconsiderably. Eitherway, he liked themmuch better thanaristocrats he’d knowninthepast.“Did you hear

something?” Leahasked, glancing toward

the doors to the hall.“Raised voices, maybe,somewhere in thedistance?”Nooneelsehad,buta

moment later, David,too, thought he heardfaint shouting. He andLeah glanced at eachother, then Warnerentered, looking ratherharried.“Pray, pardon.” He

swept a lock of graying

hair from his eyes.“Miss Cantrell hascallers.Herfather,fromwhatIcangather,andagentleman named, er,Kevin,Ibelieve.”Her mouth fell open,

andsheleaptoutofherseat.“Myfatherishere--in England? What onearth is he thinking?Where is he, Mr.Warner?”

Herashencomplexionreflectedthesamerangeof sentiments thatcoursedthroughDavid.Hecouldscarcelycreditthe news, though Leahhadexplainedtohim,ina simplified way, aboutthe speed of air travel.GoodLord!Thethoughtof her father’sdisapproval haddisturbed him before,but now he must face,

utterly unprepared, theman whom he hadwronged--not tomention Mr. Cantrell’sfavorite, Kevin. Surely,one or the other woulddemand satisfactionfromhim.Howironicitwould be if he hadtraveled two hundredyears through timeonlyto perish in a duel.Slowly, he rose to hisfeet.

“I’ve shown thegentlemen to the maindrawing room,” Warnersaid. “They, er, don’tseem inclined to wait,though I informed themyouwereatbreakfast.”“Oh, they won’t have

to wait.” Lips pursed,Leah shoved her chairunderthetable.“Pleaseexcuse me. I’d like todealwiththisasquicklyaspossible.”

Themarquess smiled,oblivious to the tensionthatsuffusedtheroom.“Please, Miss Cantrell,ask your guests if theyhavehadbreakfastand,if not, welcome them tojoin us. What apleasure it will be tomeetyourfather!”“Yes, I’m anxious to

meethimaswell,”LadyIsabellasaid,hermouthtwisted into a wry

smile. “If they’vealready eaten, pleaseurge them to stay untilmy brother and I canjoin you in the drawingroom. We’ll only be afew minutes. Wewouldn’t want to missout on an introductionto Mr. Cantrell. Yourfather’s name is alsoCantrell,Ipresume?”Leah was clearly too

distractedtoindulgeher

ladyship’sgameplaying.Shenoddedtothepartyin general and pushedthrough the doors thatledintothehall.“Pardon me,” David

said and hurried afterher.As they approached

the entrance to thedrawing room, heglimpsed a burlymiddle-agedmanpacingthe carpet. Telltale

auburn hair identifiedhim as Leah’s father,though his locks werethinning and croppedshort. A sandy-hairedyounger man--Kevin, ofcourse--sat on thesettee, one of his legsshaking nervously andhis features a study inanxiety.Milksop, David

decidedinstantly,hislip

curling. Let the fopchallengehimtoaduel!Kevin looked their

way, starting as hespottedthemcomingupthe hall. His eyeswidened, searchingLeah’sfacebrieflybeforefocusing on David forthemerestsecond.Thecowarddidn’t evenholdhisgaze,lookingquicklyback to Mr. Cantrell.What’s more, the cur

remained on his arse,proving himself as ill-mannered as he wascowardly. Thiswas theman Leah’s father hadchosenforher!Mr.Cantrellturnedas

they entered the room.He halted his pacingand glared at hisdaughter. “It’s abouttime! Get your things,Leah. We’ve come totakeyouhome.”

She stared at him,slowly shaking herhead. “I don’t believethis. I cannot believehow far you will go totry to control me. Thepairof you!” Shemadea sweeping gesture thatencompassed bothmen.“I’msorry,butI’mnot the same littlemouse you almosttalked out of coming to

Europe at all. I’m hereand I’m staying rightwhereIam.”Red splotches

surfacedonher father’sface. “So, after all theworryyou’vecausedus,this is the greeting weget? Leah, do yourealize how much time,effort and money we’vespentcomingheretogetyou?”“Well, if you don’t

wantallyourtime,effortand money wasted, Isuggest you head forLondon and tour thecity. You’ll find thatmore productive thantryingto interfere inmylife!”David cringed, torn

between admiration forherspiritandadreadofwhat such saucinesswould earn her. Nofatherwouldtoleratehis

daughter’s addressinghiminsuchamanner.“I don’t know what’s

comeoveryou,girl,butit’s going to end righthere.” Mr. Cantrellspoke through a tightjaw. “I suppose youthinkyou’reallhighandmighty now that you’reshacked up with theDukeofEarlhere.Thisfellow is your newboyfriend,Itakeit?”He

looked to David. “Well,yourWorship,dealwithany of your conquests’fathersbefore?”David felt his cheeks

growhot.“Iassureyoumy intentions are allthat ishonorable,sir. Imean to demonstratemygood--”“Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Spare me the bullshit.Just because I’ve neverbeenon this sideof the

Atlantic before, don’tthink I haven’t heardwhattypeofmoralsyouEuropeans have. IknowwhatyouthinkofAmerican girls. Well,my daughter is one girlyou won’t takeadvantage of anylonger.”“No one is taking

advantage of me.”Leah’s eyes smolderedintoadarkshade.“Not

David and not you. Imake my owndecisions.”“Not when your

decisions are stupid.”Mr. Cantrell steppedcloser to her, scowlingdownhisnose.Shemadenomove to

retreat. “They’re moresensible than any I’veevermadebefore.”“Moving inwithaguy

you’veknownthreedays

issensible?”David stood stunned,

scarcely believing theycontinuedtotradesuchbarbs.Anyfatherinthenineteenth centurywould have dragged hisdaughterawaybynow.AndwhatcouldLeahbethinking, exacerbatingher father’s fury? Atthis rate, they wouldnevergainMr.Cantrell’sblessing.

“Leah, please,” heinterrupted.“Thisisnoway to try to alter yourfather’sviews.IfIcouldhaveawordwithyouinprivate...”“Over my dead body!”

Mr. Cantrell bellowed.“You’ve had all theprivate time with mydaughteryou’regoingtoget! This is a matterbetweenherandme.”David frowned. He

rather thought it amatter between Mr.Cantrell and himself--and possibly that oafKevin, had he shownany propensity to domore than gawk fromthesettee.“Thenleavehimoutof

this, Daddy.” Leahturned to David. “He’sright. You shouldn’thave to be subjected tothis. Why don’t you

wait for me in ourroom?I’llcomeupafterthesetwohavegone.”Ourroom. Hischeeks

burned again, and hebraced himself for Mr.Cantrell to slamhis fistinto one of them. Leahhad admitted outrightthat they’d shared abedchamber. She hadconfirmed, in front ofher father and his

favorite, that the two ofthemhadslepttogether.Yet the blow didn’t

come.He looked to Kevin,

whose lips puckered asthough he’d eaten sourgrapes--nothing worse.The fop turned his faceaway without gettingup, let alone issuing achallenge.“Well?” Mr. Cantrell

tapped his foot on the

floor.David felt as though

hehadtravelednotonlythrough time but toanotherplanet.Hewasperfectly capable ofstanding his ground--but onlywhen he knewwherehisgroundwas.Hehesitated.“Ishall,

of course, honor yourwishes, sir, though I dowishyouwouldhearmypiece.”

Mr. Cantrell crossedhisarmsoverhischest,unmoved by therequest.What more could

David say? If the manrefusedtolisten,hehadnofurtherrecourse.Heturned to Leah. “I willbe in the garden.”Undernocircumstancescould he await her inthebedchamber,asshehad suggested. “Please

send for me directly, ifyou or your fathershouldwantme.”Hebowedandstalked

from the room,continuingoutthefrontdoorandintothepark.He strode through thegardens withoutpurpose, his mindbrimmingwithemotion.Confusion, frustration,shame . . . howhadhe

come to thispoint? Hehad always striven tocompensateforhisbirthby conducting his lifewith theutmosthonor.But blood always told,did it not? Now he’ddebased himselfentirely, taking awoman out of wedlockandagainsther father’swishes. How had hesunktosuchdepths?Snapping out of his

reverie, he foundhimself at the head ofthepath that led to thespring.The spring. Of

course.Obviously,hislifehad

gone awry because hewasnotmeanttoliveinthiscentury.Hehadtoreturn tohisowntime.He had to relinquishLeah.Aspainfulastheduty would be, it was

theonlyway toend theinjury he did her andher father, theonlywayto restore his ownhonor. He had to goback to the nineteenthcentury,whereheknewhowtotellthedifferencebetween right andwrong . . . in short,wherehebelonged.He lookedbackat the

house once more andfelt a sharp stab of

reluctance. Lord, howhe wanted to be withher, more than he everhad before, more thanhe ever would wantanyoneelseagain.But he would not

allow her or himself tofall any further intodisgrace. Swallowingthe aching lump thathad risen in his throat,he turned and walkedintothewoods.

CHAPTERTWENTYLeah had to defend

herself through amarathon argumentbeforehervisitorsfinallyagreed to leave. Eventhen,herfatherassuredher they’d be back.They refused LordSolebury’s invitation tospendthenightinfavorof gettinga room in thevillage. This,her father

explained, would giveher “a chance to think”before they returned forroundtwo.“By then you should

have come to yoursenses,” he said,climbing into a rentedcar in front of themanor.“Iexpectyoutobe ready to leave withustomorrow.”Kevin stared at her

through a rolled-down

window on thepassenger side. Thepuppy-dog slant of hiseyes gave him the lookof a high-school dramastudent--andnotoneatthe top of his class.“Please remembereverything we’ve hadtogether, Leah. Threeyearsisalotofhistory.”She nearly laughed.

“Youthinkwehavealotof history? Well, we

don’t, because nothinghappened in all thoseyears. Our relationshipdidn’t develop andneitherdidyouorI.Wehad three years ofstagnation.”“But you’ve only

known that guy a fewdays.” With a pout, hemotioned toward thehouse. “What makesyouthinkyou’ll‘develop’

withhim?”“I’ve already done

more growing withDavidthanyou’lldoinalifetime.” She crossedher arms over herchest. “Two hundredyears’worth!”The sound of the

ignition cranking kepthim from answering--though she doubted hehad much to say forhimselfanyway.Infact,

before David had left,Kevin had beenunusually quiet,probably intimidated byhis rival’s glares. Sheheldbackasmirkatthethought--not very niceof her, but, damn it,he’d put her throughhellplentyoftimes.Lethim suffer for once,assuming he had thecapacity.Her father leaned in

front ofhim to lookoutat her. “We’ll be backsoon,Leah.”She didn’t bother

answering, and heducked back and putthe car into gear. Asthey pulled away, shewalked to the frontsteps and waited untilthey’d rode up thedrive. With a sigh, sheleaned back against awrought-ironrailing.

Where was David?Guilt pricked at her asshe remembered tellinghim she’d meet himhoursago. Atthetime,she hadn’t expected togetcaughtupinsuchalong argument. He’dsaid he’d be in thegarden,butshecouldn’tseehimfromwhereshestood.Shedoubtedhe’dstill be outside after allthis time, but she

skipped down the stepstotakealook.The rose garden,

beautiful in spite of athriving weedpopulation, had onlybees to enjoy it. Shewalkedpastthefragrantbushes and swept hergaze across twoovergrown terraces.Several stone benches,crumbling among thethicket, all stood

empty. She wanderedalong the side of thehouse and came acrossa weather-batteredgazebo. Still,shedidn’tsee David. He’d likelygoneinsidehoursago.As she retraced her

path, her sense of guiltmultiplied. She shouldhavemadesureshegotaway from her fatherandKevinsooner.Theirsuddenappearancehad

tobestrangeforDavid.She hurried inside

and did a quick searchofthefirstfloorbutmetno one. Rushingupstairs, she checkedtheir room, but hewasn’t there,either. Assheturnedtoleave,shenoticed the wardrobewaspartlyopen.His half of the closet

lookedempty.She stepped forward

and slid the doorsapart. Her clothes stillhung where she’d putthem,butDavid’sthingswere gone. With a sicktwistinginherstomach,shewent to the dresserandyankedeachdraweropen. One after theother proved empty--nosweaters, socks,underwear, ties. AndViscount Traymore’spaperswerenowhere in

sight.Davidhadleft.But how could he?

She sank down on thebed, her chesttightening. Maybe sheshould have seen thiscoming. When she toldhim she was going tothrowKevin’sringinthespring, he hadn’t evencared.Sheshouldhaveknown right then thathe didn’t return the

feelings she had forhim.Andthismorning,whentheyfirstwokeup,he’d been distant,staring out thewindow,reluctanttokissher.She flopped onto her

back. Obviously, hedidn’tloveher.Hemusthave felt someattraction, of course,but that didn’t meanmuch. Whatnineteenth-century

man, used to all thewomen he knew beingeither married orvirgins, wouldn’trespond to a womanwho practically threwherself at him? Hisresponse simply hadn’tbeen enough towithstand the stir herfather kicked up. No,that would take morethansimpleattraction.Where had he gone?

She rolled off the bedandwenttothewindow,staring out toward thepatchofwoods thathidthespring.Ashiverrandownherspine.Hadhegoneandwishedhimselfback in time? No, hewouldn’t have takenViscount Traymore’sclothesunlesshemeantto stay in the currentcentury. But maybehe’d packed them up

andgiven themback toLady Isabella. Ormaybe Isabella herselfhad takenhernephew’sthingsfromtheroom.She spunaroundand

checked the dressertopsandnightstandsforanote.Sheturnedoverboth pillows to see ifhe’d pinned a letterthere. Damn him! Hedidn’t evencareenoughabout her to scribble a

briefexplanationofwhyhe’dleft.Wouldhehavetold Lord Solebury orLadyIsabellahisplans?Probably not, but shehad to find them andask.As she burst through

the bedroom door, shealmost knocked downMavis.Themaidbarelymanaged to keep herfooting and hold ontothe basket of laundry

shecarried.“Mavis!I’msosorry.”

Her voice came outbreathless. “Do youknow where themarquessandhissisterare?”“Herladyshipishavin’

a lie down and askednot to be disturbed.”The girl paused to shiftherbasketfromonehipto the other. “LordSolebury is in his room

as well, but I daresayyou can seehim, if youlike.Lord--er,Mr.--thatis,yourfriendisalreadyintherewithhim.”“David is?” Her

shoulders slumpedwithrelief. Then sheconsidered that hemight only be sayinggood-bye. She had toact quickly. “Where isLordSolebury’sroom?”“That way.” Mavis

nodded her head in thedirection she’d comefrom. “The third dooron the left is hislordship’s dressingroom. Through that isthebedroom.”“Thanks.” Leah

hurrieddownthehall.The door Mavis had

indicatedwasopen,andLady Isabella stoodinside, her face turnedtoward the door to the

inner room. When shesaw Leah, she held afinger up to her lips,thenlookedbacktowardthebedroom.From where Leah

stood, she couldn’t seeintotheotherroom,butshe could hear David’ssoft-spoken words. “Soyoubelieveafatherandson should, above all,strive to express theirloveforoneanother?”

“Oh, yes.” Themarquess’s voice washushed, too--far moreserene than usual.“Men have never beenvery good at expressingtheir feelings--Englishmen, especially.AndweTraymoresmustbe among the worst ofour gender. Did myfather ever tell me heloved me? Never! Ofcourse, I knew he did.

Or I believed he did.Perhaps I didn’t, quite.I always seemed to betryingtoprovemyselftohim, trying to win hislove.”Leah told herself she

should walk away andleave Isabella toeavesdrop alone, butshe didn’t want tomisstalking to David. Shehad to try to convincehimtostaywithher, to

at least give her achance. She debatedwhether she shouldspoil Isabella’sentertainmentby lettingthe men know theyweren’talone.“Howdid you attempt

to prove yourself?”David asked LordSolebury.“Inallthewrongways,

I’m afraid. I tried toassert myself, show

whatgrand ideas Ihad,how well I couldconduct my life on myown. Years later,whenmy son reachedmaturity, I realized myfatherwouldhavebetterappreciated my comingto him for advice. Iknow I felt that wayaboutmyson.”“Yourson?”Despite herself, Leah

leaned closer to thedoor. The marquesshad referred to his sonin the third person.Had he realized Davidwasn’ttheviscount?“Yes. I can’t tell you

how many times Iwishedhewould have--I’m sorry. I mean youwould have . . .” Hislordship paused. “Thisis very odd. You and I

neverusedtospeaklikethis. Now, after somany years withoutcontact between us, Ifeel almost as thoughI’m talking to anotherman. I hope I haven’toffended you. I assureyou that I cherish andrespectyouasmuchasever.”Lady Isabella’s eyes

narrowed, and shelookedtoLeah.

“Pardon me, yourlordship,” David said,“but perhaps youshould consider that Imay be another man.I’vetoldyouthatIdon’trecallalifeasyourson.I would be honored if Icould, but I simplydon’t.”Leahfroze,waitingfor

the marquess’s rareserenity to shatter. Along minute passed

while shewatchedLadyIsabellastretchherneckcloser to the door, herthin eyebrows pinchedtogetherabovehernose.“Doubtlessly, this

absurd sense ofunfamiliarity is due toall the years that havepassed sincewe’ve seeneach other,” LordSolebury said. “Yourmemory may be faultyatthemoment,butwho

couldyoubeotherthanmyson?”“Perhaps we should

leave that questionopen.”The lines in Lady

Isabella’s foreheadsmoothed. She blinkedrapidly, avoiding Leah’sgaze. Finally, shemurmured,“Perhapsweought to make ourpresenceknown.”“Definitely.”

Preoccupied with herown problems, shecouldn’t feel muchexcitement over theprogress David seemedto be making with hisfamily. She swept ahand toward thebedroom door. “Afteryou,mylady.”Isabella knocked on

one of the woodenpanels and pushed thedoor open. “Pardon

me.I’mterriblysorrytointerrupt.Iwonderedifyou wanted to comedownstairsfortea,Jon.”Leah stepped in

behind her and lookedstraight to David. Hisgaze met hers, and henodded a stoic greetingthatmadeherachewithhopelessness. He gotup from his chair, buthis movements werelethargic. If he’d loved

her, he would havesprung up the secondshewalkedintheroom.He would have brokeninto a big grin at themeresightofher.“Isitteatimealready?”

Lord Solebury asked,proppedup in thebed.“David and I have hadsuch a wonderful chatthatIlosttrackoftime.”“Your conversation

must have been

stimulating.” Hissister’s voice wavered,drawing Leah’s gazeaway from David. Thewoman’s eyes shone.“You’relookingvery. . .lively,Jon.”“I feel lively.” He

laughed, and Leahrealized he did lookmore alert andcomposed than she’dever seen him. Nowonder his sister was

emotional. “I can’tremember the last timeI’ve had such a richdiscussion. David hasgot my intellectualjuices flowing again.Funny,heneverusedtobesophilosophical.”Isabellanodded,biting

herlip.“It’sbeenalongtime since you have,either.”He smiled and turned

to Leah. “My dear

young lady, I hope youand your father haveresolved yourdifferences. I’m afraidthat in trying toprotectourchildren,we fathersoften end up undulyinterferingintheirlives.I’ve had ten years tocontemplate similarwaysIwrongedmyson.Perhaps I should sharesomeofmyregretswithyourfather.”

David shook hishead. “I fear we canhardlyfaultMr.Cantrellwith undueinterference.”Leah frowned,

wonderinghowhecouldpossibly make such astatement. Before shecouldask,themarquessspoke.“Cantrell . . . Leah

Cantrell.” He rubbedhis chin. “You know,

Isabella, you’re right.Thatwasthegirlinourfamily legend. What aremarkablecoincidence.”“Quite.” His sister

gave Leah an accusingstare but pressed herlips together,presumably using allher will to keep fromspeaking her thoughtsoutloud.

“It is my real name,”Leahblurted. “Ihaveavalid passport to proveit. And my father canconfirm my story. Hehasapassport,too.”LordSoleburyreached

out and patted herhand. “Of course it’syour name, dear. Fewof us have names thatare entirely unique. Iconsider the flukeconcerning yours an

omen. I think it showsthatyourdestinyistiedtothisfamily’s.”She swallowed and

glancedatDavid,whoseeyes didn’t reveal athing about histhoughts.“Perhapsweshouldall

get ready for tea,” LadyIsabella said. “Mrs.Pickford doesn’t like tohold the meals sheworks so hard to

prepare.”“Of course.” David

pulled his gaze awayfrom Leah’s. “If you’llexcuseme...”She sighed. Now

she’d get to speak tohim.Theknowledgelefther half-relieved andhalf-afraid.“Certainly.” Lord

Solebury gave him awidesmile.“Thankyousomuchforthechat.”

LadyIsabellaeyedherbrother, holding herlowerlipbetweenthumband forefinger. Whenshe glanced at Davidand saw him watchingher, she let her handdrop. “Yes . . . thankyou. I believe you’vedonemybrothergood.”“The pleasure was all

mine.” He gave one ofhisold-fashionedbows.Afterashort,electrically

charged lapse inconversation, he asked,“When should we bedownstairs?”“In about a quarter

hour,” Isabella said. “Ihope that gives us allenough time toprepare.”“Certainly.” With

anothergeneralbow,heturned and left theroom.Leah murmured,

“Excuseme,”anddartedafter him. As soon asthey stepped into thehall,shesaid,“Ineedtotalktoyou.”Heglancedatherbut

didn’tstopwalking.Knees wobbling, she

willedherselftokeepupwith him. He couldn’treally be leaving, couldhe? Maybe he didn’thave anything to dowith the clothes

disappearing.“Doyouknowthatall

your things--theviscount’s things--aregone from our room?”sheasked.He continued up the

hall, showing nosurprise and, evenworse, avoiding hergaze. “I asked LadyIsabella if Imightmovetomyownchamber.”“You did?” Nausea

stirred inside her, afeeling all-too familiar.She’dbeenthroughthiswith Kevin so manytimes. Whenever theirrelationship had begunto open up and grow,he’d always slammedthe door on allpossibilities. Theconfidence she’d gainedover thepast fewweeksmelted, and her voicecame out small and

weak.“Why?”He still wouldn’t look

at her. The old cynicalcurl pulled at his lowerlip. “Don’t make thisany harder than it is,Leah. Where is yourfather?”She stopped outside

the door to their room,startled by his quickchange of subject.Suddenly, the heat ofanger flared up her

neck, burning awayherfeelingsofhelplessness.Hewasn’tgoingtocrushher. She was her ownperson, awholeperson,capableoflivinghappilyon her own--andcapable of calling himon his evasion tactics.Shestoodthereuntilhestopped and turned tofaceher.“Thisisaboutyouand

me,” she said. “Don’t

try to change thesubject.”“Youshouldhavegone

with him.” His starewas hard, his eyesuntwinkling.She shook her head.

“Don’t you dare tell mewhat I should orshouldn’t do. I makemyownchoices.”He looked away,

runningahandthroughhishair. “I onlymeant

that you should honoryour father’s wishes.It’s the right thing todo.”“Oh, really? That’s

the best attempt youcouldmaketododgethereal issue? Well, youcouldn’t have picked amore ridiculousargument. As if you’rean expert on filialhonor! When did you

everhonoryourfather?”He scowled at her.

“This is entirelydifferent. The man isonly trying to protectyourinterests.”She let her arms go

limpathersides.“Whynotsaywhatyoumean,David?”Heonlystared.She stood waiting for

him to say something.But what was she

waiting to hear? Thatshe meant so little tohim that hewaswillingto forget about her theminute her father gavethemalittlegrief?She opened the door

behindher and steppedinto her room. “Youknow, I’m glad youalreadytookyourthingsoutofhere.Now,Idon’thave to listen to any

more of your ridiculousexcusesandhypocriticaladvice while you moveout.”The tilt of his eyes

began to look sad rightbefore she blanked outhis face with a slam ofthedoor.She flopped belly first

onto thebed, convincedthe emotion she’d seenmust have been pity.Well,shedidn’tneedhis

pity. She didn’t needanything from him, notnow that she’d learnedtorelyonherself.A sniffle escaped her

without warning, andshe hid her face in thepillow. Damn it, herlove was worth morethan this. She wasworthfightingfor.A tap sounded on the

door,andshefroze.“Leah?” David called

softly.She gulped her tears

down hard. If sheanswered, he’d be suretoknowshewascrying.“Leah?”Another minute

passed, then she heardthe sound of hisfootsteps fading in thehall. She hiccuppedand pulled the pillowoverherhead.Even a self-reliant

person had to cry onceinawhile.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONEDavidstoodstaringat

the door Leah hadslammedinhisface.Heclampedhisjawtighttokeep fromcalling tohera third time. He reallyhadno right to addressher at all. Had he notunleashed enoughchaos inher life? Onlythat morning he hadvowed not to cause her

furthertrouble.He fought an urge to

pound on the wood oreven kick through thepanels. His resolve toleave her alone wouldhave been easier if he’dbeen able to return topast. The spring,however, had notcooperated. When he’dgone to the clearing,he’d found nothing butadried-uphole.

Thereliefhe’dfelthadmade him wonderwhether he could havegone through with theplananyway.Now he had another

opportunity to show hehad honorableintentions.Butwalkingaway from her doorproved nearly asdifficultasitwouldhavebeen to step back into

thepast. Thetimeportal is closed, a voicein his head persisted.Fatehadchosentokeephiminthiscentury,andhe felt certainhehadapurpose here. Couldthat purpose not restwithLeah?The wooden door

hung before him, notphysically impenetrablebutmorallyso.

“Fool,” he hissed tohimself,closinghiseyestokeepthebarrierfromtauntinghim.Ifhehada purpose, it surelycentered around themarquess.Anyefforthecould make to comforthis lordshipwould be anoble pursuit. Chasinga woman intended foranothermancouldonlybedeemedself-serving.He opened his eyes

and walked toward hisownquarters.Whenhetried to close the doorafter him, the edgecaughtontheframeandwouldn’t shut. Heyanked harder, ventinghis frustration on thewood. This time thedoor slammed intoplace,bringingbacktheimage of Leah’s angrycountenanceasshehadslammed her door. He

grimaced and tried toblot out the impressionby surveying his newroom.Dimly lit and poorly

appointed, the chambersuffered in comparisonto the one he hadshared with Leah. Thenarrow bed lookedlumpy, and a mustyodor plagued hisnostrils.Ashewrinkledhis nose, a draft blew

through a crack in thewindow behind him,makingthetinyhairsonthe nape of his neckstand on end. Hedoubted the“uninhabitable” roomsin the west wing couldhave been much lessinviting.Then again, no

chamber would havepleased him now--notwithout Leah to share

thespace.Aclockchimed in the

hall, reminding him todress for tea. Hegrappledwithastickingdresser drawer. Eveninanimate objectsseemed to be mockinghim, but he knew thereal struggle lay withinhim. His baseyearningskepthimfromthinking constructively.He should have been

planning how to helphis relations save theirestate--or, at least beable to live their goldenyearsincomfort.Hesnatchedarandom

tie from the drawer,peering into a chevalglass to wrap the clotharoundhisneck.Asheloopeda simplemodernknot together, themirror made hismovements look

backward and wrong--ratherlikethisalternatetimeperioddistortedhisjudgment. He had toadmit, though, that hisdecision to go themarquess and try tocheerhimhadprovedahappy exception to hisblundering. Somethinggood, something trulymeaningful, had comeout of their talk, andsomehow he had

instigatedthatgood.“Is that not proof of

where your purposelies?” he asked hisreflection. He, DavidTraymore, had actuallyhelped Lord Soleburygain some peace ofmind. His lordship’svagarieshadlessenedasthey discussed thefamily history, and themarquess had growndownright sharp when

the conversation turnedto the meaning offamily. Lord Soleburyhad needed to talkabout his lost son, andDavidhadbeentheonetoelicitthecatharsis.His fingers stopped

working as he thoughtback on how themarquess’scalminghadprogressed. With hisown eyes, he had seenthe man healing as he

confided his regrets.What’s more, David toohadexperiencedasenseof healing. As hislordship spoke, he hadunderstood theinevitably of a father’smaking mistakes alongthepathhechose...asany man mademistakes.Ashisownfatherhad.He stared hard into

his reflected eyes, so

much like those of thesixth marquess. His,however, began to lookbright,andherefocusedon his fingers, reachingblindly toward thedrawerforatietack.“Damn!” he muttered

as a pin pierced hisfingerandrekindledhisvexation. He fumbledwith the emblem butcouldn’t connect theclasp.Catchinghisown

flickeringgazeagain,hegloweredandtossedthetackaside.Whatdidhecareforsuchtrivia?He went down to tea

with his tie flopping onhisshirt.Leah never appeared

forthemeal,nordidshecome down for dinner,sending word throughMavis that she feltunwell. Again, hefought against his

longing to see her,though the need grewmore painful with eachpassing hour. His onlycondolence lay in hisadvancement with hisfamily. Lord Soleburyremained alertthroughout the evening,and Lady Isabella’sattitude toward himcontinuedtowarm.Nonetheless, he

sighed with relief on

finding Leah in thebreakfastroomearlythenext morning. She satalone at the table,poking a fork at a dishof omelet. When shelooked up to where hestood at the entrancefromthehall,henoticedthatshadowsringedhereyes, rendering her faircomplexionevenpaler.“You really are ill.”

His gut sank and he

stepped inside theroom. He had to stophimself from rushing toherside.“Isthere...isthereanythingIcangetforyou?”Her gaze dropped to

herplate. “Idon’tneedanythingfromyou.”“Look alive,” Lady

Isabella called out frombehindhim in thehall.As hemoved aside, shewheeled the marquess

in his chair into thebreakfastroom.His lordship’s cheeks

glowedwithhealth,andhis gaze flit attentivelyover his surroundings.Isabella, too, lookedanimated and happy.The “goodmorning” shewished Leah evensoundedsincere.Mavis bustled in

behind them, balancinga tray filled with rolls

and another withmarmalade,sugarandacreamer. In a littleflutter of activity,everyone took a seatandsetaboutarrangingfoodontheirplates.“We missed you last

night, Miss Cantrell,”LordSolebury said. Hepaused to bite into acroissant. “I hopeyou’refeelingbetterthismorning.”

“I am, a little, thankyou.” She gave him awan smile. “I didn’tsleep all that well.Frankly, I’mnot lookingforward to seeing myfatherthismorning.”He frowned. “I’m

sorry you two aren’tseeing eye to eye.Forgive me, dear, but Imustclaimtheprivilegeofexperienceandadviseyou to give him the

leeway he won’t giveyou. What if somedayyou became separatedfrom your father anddidn’tknowifyou’deversee him again? Godforbid, unforeseenthingshappen.Insucha case, would you haveregrets?Mightyouwishyouhaddone things

differently?”She stared at him,

balancing a forkful ofeggs in the air. Davidrealized she had indeedfaced such a situationwhen she had beenthrown into the past.For the first time, heperceived what anordeal she must haveendured. Unlike him,she’d had no one withwhom to share herapprehensions. Hewished more than ever

he had listened to herstoryandofferedherhissupport. Instead, asever,hehadfailedher.The marquess set

down his roll. “I knowsuchaneventishardtoimagine when you’venevermetwith the like,but--”“No.” She swallowed,

though she still hadn’ttakenabiteofherfood.“No, I can imagine it,

andyou’reright,Iwouldhave regrets. I doalready.I’lltrytotalktomy father. I’m sure hewon’t make it easy forme, but I’ll do what Ican to get through tohim.Ipromise.”As if on cue, Warner

appeared in thedoorway. “Mr. Cantrellis here. He requests avisit with the wholefamily, whenever

convenient for all ofyou.”Leah’s fork dropped,

clattering on her plate.“Requestsavisit?”“Yes,miss.”Hintsofa

smile pulled at thecorners of his mouth.“And the youngergentleman isn’t withhimthismorning.”LordSoleburyclasped

his hands together in

front of him.“Wonderful news! DoaskMr. Cantrell to joinus for breakfast.” AsWarner ducked backout,hesmiledatLeah.“Itlooksasthoughyourfatherwon’t be quite asdifficult as youexpected.”The furrows in her

browendured.Warner returned with

Mr. Cantrell, who

hesitated in thedoorway. Face tiltedslightly downward, heeyed his daughter fromunder bushy, redeyebrows. Two pairs ofsea-green eyesexchanged a long look,then Leah leapt up andhuggedhim. Hepattedherback,lookingratherawkward.She left off her

embrace and turned to

the others, moisteningherlips.“Ithinkyouallmet my father brieflyyesterday . . . BobCantrell. Dad, yourememberLadyIsabella,her brother LordSoleburyand,uh,DavidTraymore.”Mr.Cantrellnoddedto

his hosts and then toDavid, who noted thathisgazelingeredlongestonhim.

He nodded in return,wondering what toexpect next. Unquestionably, theman had changed hisapproach, but anyfurther conclusionwouldbefolly.Leah looked to her

father and gesturedtowardtheplacenexttohers at the table. Theytook their seats, andWarnerpouredcoffeefor

thenewarrival.“Thankyou.”Hetook

asipandsatbackinhischair, though hisdowncast gaze beliedtheeaseofhisposture.“Rightoffthebat,Iwanttoapologizetoallofyoufor my behavioryesterday. I had nobusiness storming inherethewayIdid.”David scanned the

room, observing Lord

Solebury’s approvingnod and Lady Isabella’sscrutinyofthespeaker.Leah eyed the emptysideboard, meeting noone’sgaze.“I had plenty of time

to think lastnight,”Mr.Cantrell continued. “Ididn’tsleepawinkwithKevin’ssnoring.Infact,maybe it was hissnoring that got methinking. Spending

twenty-four hoursstraightwith thatnitwithas made me wonderhow Leah managed tobear three years withhim.Takehimoffacarlot and away from thesports page, and hedoesn’t have a damnthing to contribute to aconversation.Andyou’dthink the world werecoming to an end justbecause he couldn’t get

ranch dressing with hisdinnerlastnight.”Startled,Davidstolea

glance at Leah. Shelookedatherfather,butherexpressionremainedimpassive.Mr. Cantrell cleared

his throat. “Anyway,whatI’mtryingtosayisthat I’d like to startover, to listen and findout why my daughtercut her tour short to

stay here. I guessmaybe I overreacted bycomingafterher,butaslongasI’mhere,I’dliketo get to know you all--to make sure she’s allright, you know? ThenI’llgohome.”Themarquesssmiled.

“Your concern isadmirable,Mr.Cantrell.Certainly, too much ispreferable to too little.Let me try to assuage

your worries byassuring you yourdaughter is an honoredguest here. Of course,you’re likely wonderingmore about David’sintentionstowardher.”All eyes moved to

converge on David. HeglancedatLeah,butshelookedaway.“They are honorable,

sir.” With a pang ofguilt, he looked down,

touching his napkin tohis mouth. Hisintentions may havebeen honorable; hisconduct, however, hadnot been.“Unfortunately,Icannotassure you of muchmore rightnow. At themoment, my financialcircumstances arerather, er, straitened. Imean to turn thataround quickly,

however.”Helookedupandsaw

Mr. Cantrell studyinghim. Suddenly, theman emitted a snort oflaughter.“Hell, but you’re a

serious fellow, aren’tyou?” He shook hishead. “All this talkabout intentions andmoney! Do you think Iexpect you to marryLeah after knowing her

fourdays?”David had rather

thought he did and, ifnot, couldn’t imaginewhat Mr. Cantrell didexpect. Did the manmean to allow his suitor not? He tried tocatch Leah’s eye, butshe wouldn’t meet hisgaze.“I feel as though I’ve

knowherforcenturies,”

hemurmured.Atlast,shelookedup,

a line forming betweenher brows. He wishedshe had appeared eventhe least bit pleased,but he could hardlyexpect it after he’davoided speaking to herthe day before.Furthermore, he couldsay nothing to makeamends for hisbehavior. Indeed, he

wasn’t sure he couldbehave differently now.He still didn’t knowwhether her fatherwouldlethimcourther--and even if so, hiscurrent state ofdestitution would delaytheprivilegeforyears.“Romantic, too,” Mr.

Cantrellsaid,hismouthtwistedinasmirk.“I’mbeginningtounderstandwhy she’s not in Paris

with Jeanine. Womenalways suck up thiskindofnonsense.Leah,I hope your head’s notalready full of dreamsabout marrying thisfellow.”David, keenly aware

he’d been insulted,waitedforherresponse.Sheonlypulledhergazeaway, however, lookingbacktothesideboard.

Her father’s browsshot up. “I’ll bedamned. Idon’thaveaclue what’s going onhere.”“Welcome aboard,”

Lady Isabella said,tappingher chinwith afinger. “Perhaps we allneed to acquaintourselvesbetter.I’dliketo have a little dinnerparty tonight. I hopeyou and your young

friend will join us, Mr.Cantrell.”“I’d behappy to.” He

let out another shortlaugh. “But are yousure want me to bringKevin? I’d think you’dwanttogiveyourboyanedge over thecompetition. Or don’tyou want himmarryingacommoner?”“Dad, please.” Leah

senthimapained look,

while her fatherchuckled at his ownjoke.David,meanwhile,sat mute, feeling aperfectfool.Mr.Cantrellstoodand

patted his daughter onthe shoulder. “Don’tworry,honey.I’mgoingnow,soyoucaneattherestofyourbreakfastinpeace. Lady Isabella,Lord Solebury, thanksfor your hospitality. I

lookforwardtotonight.”Isabella gave a wan

smile.“Asdowe.”“I’ll show you out,”

Leah said, rising aswell. She took herfather’s arm andpractically dragged himtoward the doors to thehall.Mr. Cantrell stopped

again, however,standing in theentrance, and turned

back to David. “Itshould be interesting toseeyouandKevindukeitout. Areyouaduke,Dave, or do I have thewrongtitle?”“Viscount,” Lord

Solebury interjected,while David stewed tohimself. Disastrousencounter! “Mysonwillbe marquess upon mydeath,ofcourse,butno

higher rank than that,unless he earns one bysome great feat of hisown.”David stared at him.

The marquess hadcalled him son again,but he had put acuriousemphasisontheword, as though tryingtomakeapoint.“Comeon,Dad,”Leah

begged, yanking herfather into the hall.

Before the doors swungclosed after them,David’s gaze met Mr.Cantrell’s a last time.The man’s grin hadfaded.He gathered up his

scattered pride andturned back to LordSolebury.“Ithoughtweagreed to leave thequestion of my identityopen.”“Thatwasyesterday.”

Lord Solebury lifted hiscup without its rattlinginthesaucer.Hetookalongswigoftea.“TodayI’mpreparedtoclosethematter.”“But I told you I

cannotclaimtobeyourson--”“Oh,Iknowyou’renot

myson.”Isabella gasped, while

herbrothergaveDavidacunning smile. “Of

course, you know it aswell, though Iunderstand why youhaven’t revealed yourtrueidentity.Yousee,Ihad this very strange,very vivid dream lastnight--a nightmare,really, full of swirlingcolors and engulfingwaves.”David held his

breath. Could themarquess indeed have

deducedthetruth?Lord Solebury

watched him closely.“When Isabella and Ifirst met you and MissCantrell, you were bothdrenched in water.You’d taken a dunk inthespring,hadn’tyou?”Henodded.“You were also

wearing some ratherodd, old-fashionedattire, weren’t you?

Early nineteenth-century,Ibelieve.”David felt a chill,

despite the warmth oftheroom.“Jon, what is this all

about?” Lady Isabellaasked. “What do thespring and nineteenth-century costumes havetodowithanything?”Her brother smiled at

her. “Quite a bit, mydear. You’ll seewhen I

explain why MissCantrell has the samename as the girl in ourfamily legend--and, forthat matter, why Davidshares his name withthe sixth marquess’sson. Quitesimply, theyare the two in thelegend.”The look on Isabella’s

face could have souredmilk--and David felt as

though he hadswallowed a quart. Ifshe asked him to denyLord Solebury’sconclusion, he wouldnotbeabletoobligeher.But if he tried to

convince her themarquess spoke thetruth, he was certainhe’dfarenobetter.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWOLeah stood on the

front steps, watchingher fatherdriveawayinthe rental car. Hischange of attitude hadbeen a relief--almost amiracle--but he’d stillmanaged to humiliateher as only a parentcould. Not that shereally blamed him forcalling David’s bluff on

his supposed “goodintentions.” No, shewas glad her fatherhadn’t let him get awaywith that drivel. Sheonly wished he hadn’tasked her if she’d beenthinkingaboutmarryingDavid. Lyinghadnevercome easily to her, andhersilencehadprobablygivenawaythetruth.The car disappeared

among the trees, andshe turned back to thedoor. What game hadDavid been playing,anyway? Trying to puton a good face for herdad? Maybe, in hishopelessly antiquatedmind,he’dexpectedherfathertocallhimoutforsullying her. He’dprobably implied hewould marry her inorder to avoid meeting

herfatherwithpistolsatdawn.Too bad things didn’t

worklikethatanymore.With a grimace, she

stepped inside andclosed the door. If shewanted her honorpreserved,she’dhavetodo the preservingherself--andinafarlessdramaticway.She paused in the

hall, reluctant to go

back and face David’splayacting. After threeyears with Kevin, she’dhad her fill ofinsincerity. But livingwell was the bestrevenge,andthatmeantshowingthosewhohurtyou that they couldn’tkeep you down. Davidwas the one who hadtreated her badly, notthe other way around.

She wouldn’t allowherselftohidefromhim.Resolved, she took a

deep breath and liftedher chin high. Shestrode back to thebreakfast room andpushed through thedoubledoors.To her surprise, no

one paid attention toher entrance. LadyIsabella sat glaring atLord Solebury, who, in

turn, gave her a self-satisfied grin. Davidwas also watching themarquess, his eyesnarrowed and his gazeintent. She caughtherself staring at himandlookedaway.Obviously, something

hadhappenedwhileshewas gone. She hopedeveryone’s lack ofnoticing hermeant thatshe wasn’t involved.

Unsure whether to jointheothersorleavethemin privacy, she stoppedinthedoorway.Lord Solebury turned

andnoddedtoher.“I’mglad you’ve returned,Miss Cantrell. Pleasetake your seat. I havean announcement thatshould interest all ofyou.”Soshedidhavesome

stake in this. She

sensed Lady Isabella’sgazeboringintoherandknew David waswatching her, too.Without looking ateither, she obeyed hislordship’s request andwenttoherchair.Themarquesspushed

hisplatetothesideandfoldedhishandson thetable. “I spoke to mysolicitor yesterday,informinghimofDavid’s

appearance andconfirming that my willsecures him as heir.David, since you’ll beassuming my son’sidentity, you mustremember to callyourself ViscountTraymorefromhereon.Upon my death, youwill, of course, receivemy title--only twohundred years laterthan you rightfully

shouldhave.”Leah’s jaw fell open.

“Doesthismeanyou...? Buthow. . .?” Shetrailed off. He couldn’tpossiblyknowthetruth,and any question shevoiced would only raisesuspicions.“Yes, I knowwho you

are.” Lord Soleburysmiled.“Whileyouwereout of the room, Iexplainedthatthetruth

came tome in a dreamlastnight.Admittedly,Idon’t quite understandall of it. For example,your father is clearly acontemporaryAmerican. Does thatmean you are from thecurrenttimeperiod?”She glanced atDavid,

who shrugged inresponse. But why didshe care what hethought, anyway?

Looking back to themarquess,shenodded.“Of course, she is,

Jon!” Lady Isabellaslapped her palm downonthetable,rattlingthejuice glasses. “Just aswe all are, includingMister Traymore. Now,please leave off thisabsurdity. You weredoing so well up tillnow.”

“Istillamdoingwell.”He turned back toLeah. “The legendrecords that agamekeeper saw youand David disappearintothespringin1815.Imustassumethatyousomehow visited thenineteenth centurybefore returning to thepresent again withDavid.Buthow?Inmydream,Isawyounearly

drown.Doesthespringhave something to dowiththetimetravel?”Hislineofquestioning

intimidated her. LadyIsabella would neverbelieve the truth andwould therefore labelher a liar. Still, shedidn’t like having tohide the real story, andat least in this centuryshedidn’thavetoworryaboutbeingthrowninto

Bedlam. She noddedagain.“Good God, Jon,

you’re falling right intotheir trap!” LadyIsabella jumpedup andleanedoverthetableonher hands. “Don’t yousee?Thismustbewhattheyintendedallalong--toswindletheirwayintoaninheritance!”“Please, Isabella,

reseat yourself. You’ll

drive your bloodpressure through theroof.” The marquesswatched her until shecomplied. “Now, whatwouldthesetwohavetogain by this schemeyou’ve laid out? You’veinformed them yourselfthat the estate ismortgaged to the hilt.We’ll likely have to sellbefore this young maneven inherits. I’m only

ashamed I haven’t beenable to sustain somevestige of hope forSolebury’sfuture.”Isabella gave David a

hard stare, which hemet squarely. Lookingbacktoherbrother,shesaid, “It could be yourtitlethey’reafter.”“Inthisdayandage?”

He waved off thesuggestion. “Today’syoung people have little

interest for titles.They’re more likely toscorn such relics ofsocialinequality.”“Not all young people,

I’m sure, and your titleisn’t the only possiblemotive. Perhaps thesetwohaveheardthetalesabouthiddentreasure.”She wrinkled her noseatDavidandLeah.“Bythe way, if that’s whatyou’re after, you’re

bigger fools than Ithought. For twocenturies,generationsofTraymores havesearched for thatimaginary fortune. Weall outgrew that follyalong with childhood.Shouldn’t you two bepast the age ofgullibility?”Her gaze stopped at

Leah’s eyes, piercingthem until she felt she

hadtoanswer.“I don’t know what

you’retalkingabout,mylady.”Lady Isabella snorted

and looked away, herlipspressedtogether.“She’s referring to the

other legend about thesixth marquess,” LordSolebury said. “Do youtwoknowthestory?”David shook his

head.“Nothingofit.”

The marquesssteepled his fingers infrontofhim. “Well, I’vealready told you howyour father tried todivert assets away fromyour brother and toyou.”“To him?” Isabella

sniffed and crossed herarms over her chest.“Forheaven’ssake,Jon,thisisridiculous!”

LordSoleburykepthisgaze on David, whonodded his acknowledgment.“After you

disappeared,yourfatherwas forced to takealternate steps. Hestockpiledagooddealofhis wealth and hid thegoodsfromhisheir.”“All myth!” Lady

Isabella declared.“Don’t bother getting

yourhopesup.”Her brother rubbed

his chin. “No, wait aminute. I don’t have itquite right. The storygoes that the marquessoriginally hid the goodsinfearofanattackfromNapoleon. But afterBonaparte died and alldangerhadpassed,yourfather kept thetreasures hidden,waiting for your half

brother to reform hisways. The boy neverchanged, and themarquess carried thesecret of the hidingplacetohisgrave.”Leah shivered. The

foreboding feeling she’dhadwhenDavid’sfatherstripped the house hadbeen valid. She wasn’tsurprised that Williamhad never reformed--oreventhathisfatherhad

hidden all that wealthfrom him. But whenshelookedtoDavid,shesaw he had his handover his mouth, whichhungopenwithshock.“You say my father

initially concealed thishoard fromBonaparte?”heasked.“Yes.” Lord Solebury

lifted an eyebrow. “Doyou know something ofthetreasure,afterall?”

“Oh, yes.” For amoment, David onlyblinkedathim.Thenhelet his body drop backinhischair.“Iknowthehidingplace.”

****They all drove to the

gate house, which wasin such a deplorablestate that Leah felt likecrying.Shedidn’tdoubtthey would find themissinggoodswithinits

crumbling walls. Thediscovery would bringthis whole adventurefull circle and confirmthe realpurposebehindthe time travel. ShetriedtobehappyfortheTraymores, at least theelder ones, but she stillcouldn’t help resentingDavidfordumpingher.Ashepriedasheetof

plywood from the backentrance, she stole a

glanceathisprofile.Allthe trauma she’d gonethrough had ended upbenefittinghim,yethe’dabandoned her.Somedayhewouldbeawealthy marquess,prospering in England,whileshewouldbebackin Philadelphia . . .doingwhat?Everything she could

to keep her mind offhim.

The plywood brokefree with a loud crack.With a little jimmying,David opened the doorbehind it. He held itwhile Lady Isabellawheeled the marquessinside, then motionedforLeahtofollowthem.Excitement sparkled

in his eyes, but it hadnothing to do with her,and she looked awayfromhim.

“After you,” shemumbled, a bitter notecreeping intoher voice.“It’syourbigmoment.”“Our big moment,” he

corrected, nudging herforwardwithahandonher back. Despiteherself, she shudderedunder his touch. “Youunlocked this entireadventure, Leah. Nowgoonandseewhatyour

questhasyielded.”Nothing. My so-called

quest has dangledeverythinginfrontofmeandleftmewithnothing.She reproached

herself for self-pity andtrudged into thekitchen. Limited inspacetostart,theroomwas now cluttered withbroken furniture andrusty appliances. A

walk-in fireplace on thefar wall had beenclogged with two oldrefrigerators, both withthe doors removed.Evidently, theTraymores didn’t like tothrowthingsaway.A step leading down

into the main hallrequired David’s takingcharge of thewheelchair. Leah tookthe opportunity to drop

behind him, as well asthe rest of the group.Whiletheyfiledthroughthe house, she stoppedatthedoortotheparlorand looked into theroomsheandDavidhadfirstkissed.Unfurnished and

lacking decoration, thesight made tears stingher eyes. Here, so longago, sheandDavidhadshared a magical

moment,brimmingwithexcitement andexpectations. Thepresent moment, incontrast, was as emptyas the room. Like theonce comfortablefurnishings, her hopeshad been usurped bydustandcobwebs.She crossed the

threshold,walkinguptostand in front of thefireplace. Evendecades

of neglect hadn’tdamaged the stoneconstruction, and shesmileda littlewhenshethought how much agood fire could stillbrightentheroom. Sheran a finger along themantel. The woodbeneath the dust andgrime looked in goodshape. Maybe the gatehouse could berestored--though it

seemedmore likely thatwhatever wealth theTraymores found wouldgointothemainhouse.What does it matter

anyway? she askedherself, turning herback on the hearth.Whatever renovationstheymade,shewouldn’tbeheretoseethem.Faint squeals echoed

from somewhere off in

the house, and shedecidedtogoonandseewhatthey’d found. Shefollowed the sounds oflaughterandexhilaratedvoicesdownthehallandstepped into a roomshe’dneverseenbefore.Theothershadcrowdedaround an opening inthe wood-paneled wall,nestled between twobuilt-inbookcases.“Leah!” David

crunched her againsthis chest, pressing akiss on her forehead.“Solebury is saved!You’llscarcelycreditthequantityoftreasuresmyfatheramassedhere.”Taken off-guard, she

let her arms slidearound his body. Forone brief moment, hisstrong hold felt likesecurity,likelove.Thensherememberedhehad

left her. She loosenedher arms and backedoutofhisgrasp.He didn’t seem to

notice, glancing backtowardtheopeningwithonearmstillaroundherwaist. She fought tokeep from melting intohim and forced herattention to the otherside of the room. Theolder Traymores, eachholding a kerosene

lantern, peered into thepassage, blocking herview.“See for yourself.”

David pushed gentlyagainstherback,urgingherforward.Knees wobbling, she

steppedupbehindLordSolebury’s wheelchair.In the flickering light,she saw a hall-likepassageway, both sideslinedwithsealedtrunks

andbundleswrappedinlined. Near the front,alarge ancient Greekstatue had beenuncovered and, besidethat, several exquisitelyexecuted paintings.Acrossthefloor,asmallopen trunk held aglittering pile of goldcoins.“GoodGod.”“I feel like Howard

Carter on first looking

into King Tut’s tomb,”Lord Solebury said,grinning up at her.“‘What do you see?’Caernarvon asked him.Herepliedsimply, ‘Iseewonderfulthings.’““I hope we shan’t be

cursed like Carter andCaernarvon,” LadyIsabellawhispered.“Dear Isabella,” the

marquess said,laughing,“Ithoughtyou

didn’t believe in suchnonsense!”Leah noticed the

woman’s lantern wasshaking dangerously.She pried the handlefrom Isabella’s fingersandset the lamp to theside. “Maybe youshouldsit foraminute,my lady. Here--I’ll useone of these old sheetstowipethewindowseatcleanforyou.”

While she hurried todust off a spot, DavidhelpedIsabellacrosstheroom.LordSoleburywheeled

himself behind them.“As one who doesbelieve in thesupernatural, I canassure you we wouldn’tbe affected by such acurse,Belle.Onlythosenotentitledtothegoodsthey find are punished

by curses. David’sfathermeant for him toinherit the bulk of hisestate. Now, with thehelp of somemagnificent force we’llnever understand, hiswishhasbeenfulfilled.”Achillofawetrembled

down Leah’s spine,wiping out some of herbitterness. Themarquess was right. Amiracle had happened

here, and she’d beenlucky enough to play apart in it. Davidhadn’tfallen for her, but hedidn’toweherhislove.Maybe he wasn’t evencapable of that kind ofattachment, since he’dled most of his lifefeeling unloved. Afterliving through that, hedeserved whateversatisfaction his

newfound family andstatuswouldbringhim.Though she couldn’t behappy for herself, shefound she could behappyforhim.“I’m glad your father

andhisyoungfriendarecoming to dinnertonight,” Lord Soleburysaid to her as Davidfussed over LadyIsabella. “We have somuch to celebrate.

Belle, we shall have tosend Mrs. Pickford andMavis out for themakings of a veryspecial meal--and forsome good champagne.An occasion of thismagnitude calls fornothingbutthebest.”“I’ll do what I can to

help with the groceriesandcooking,”Leahsaid,thinking out loud.“We’ll make this a very

specialevening.”Since the dinner

would probably be herlast at Solebury House,the idea seemed doublyappropriate. The nextday,shewouldgowhenher father did, eitherjoining him for the triphome or moving on tomeet Jeanine in Paris.Meanwhile, keepingherself busywouldhelpher avoid dwelling on

what--or whom--she’dbeleavingbehind.In her peripheral

vision, she saw Davidbending over LadyIsabella,hisfacelitwitha smile that made himlookmoregorgeousthanever.Cookingwouldn’tdoa

lot to help her forgetthat face . . . but whatother choice did shehave?

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Helping prepare for

the celebration turnedout to be more of aboost than Leahexpected. With thehousehold overflowingwith exhilaration, evenshe had to soak upsome of the goodfeelings. In the old-

fashioned kitchen, hercompanions’ spiritswere as warm as theoven-heatedroom.Mrs.Pickfordhadrelaxedhernormally reservedmanner, sharingpersonal anecdotes aswellastipsforachievingflaky pastry and levelcakes. Mavis, for oncelooking at ease, helpedLeah set a fantastictable in the dining

room--complete withvibrant centerpiecesmade up of untamedblooms from thegardens.Before going upstairs

to dress, Leah stoppedto take in the festivescene. Savorysmellsofroasting meats andbakinggoodieswaftedinfrom the kitchen--alongwith the muffledfootsteps of someone

approachinginthehall.Mavisappearedinthe

arched entrance,carrying an armful ofdinner tapers for themass of candle holdersshe and Leah hadhoarded into the room.As the maid filled theunmatched butcharming holders, shegrinnedatLeah.“BetterthanChristmas, isn’t it,Miss? Inever imagined

this old house could besocheerful.”She nodded, her own

smile only a littlebittersweet. “This isanimportantoccasion.”“And to think this is

only the beginning.”Mavis plugged in herlast taper and adjustedthe placement of theholder on the table.“When we open thebread-and-breakfast,

every meal will be aspecialoccasion.”Leah’s smile faded.

“The bed-and-breakfast?”“Yes, Miss.” Eyes

twinkling, sherepositioned a bloom inthe center floralarrangement. “LordsSolebury and Traymorewerediscussingtheideain the drawing roomwhile I dusted, so I

overheard some of theplans. What amarvelous way tomaintain the houseonce it’sbeenrestored--andjustthinkofallthepleasure our futureguests will reap fromSolebury Manor. Youcame up with awonderful suggestion,Miss.”“Thankyou.”Leahbit

her lower lip. Envy

stung her again, asmuch she tried tosuppress herselfishness. TheTraymoresweregoingtoimplement her plan--without her there toshare the work or therewards!“Won’titbeapleasure

to do this every day forguests from around theworld?” Mavis walked

toward the hall again,stopping in thearchway. “Of course,you wouldn’t want tospend all your dayscooking and arranginglikeyoudidtoday.”“IthinkIwould,”Leah

said, though shewondered whether shecouldanswerobjectivelyor if the grass justlookedgreenerwherever

David stood. Butrunning a bed-and-breakfast definitelywould have been moresatisfying than hercurrent job as anassistant manager in adepartmentstore.Evenher old goal of teachingdidn’t appeal to her theway operating the bed-and-breakfast did.Instead of boredstudents, she would

have been dealing withdelighted guests all thetime.“Let’s hope it doesn’t

begin to feel like workwhen we have to do itevery day.” Mavis shother another grin andtookoffupthehall.“I wish I’d get a

chance to find out,”Leahsaidtoherself.The grandfather clock

in the drawing room

struck five, remindingher she didn’t havemuch time beforedinner. She wentupstairstogetreadyforthe evening, glad shehad something else tokeepherbusy.She’dknownaheadof

time what she wouldwear: the only dressyattire she’d packed forher trip. With a briefscan of her wardrobe,

shepulled out a classic“little black dress” witha cut-out back. Maybedressing to kill wouldhelp counter thegloominessofhermood--and maybe it wouldmakeDavid think twiceabout leaving her. Shedidn’t really expect tochange his mind, butanygainwouldbebetterthan nothing. It wouldincrease the chances of

his thinking of her inthe future--when, justmaybe, he’d be morereadyforarelationship.Hanging onto that

thread of hope, shetreatedherself toa longshower.Afterwards,shetook her time with hermake-up, crafting aflawless “natural” look.With unpracticedhands, she somehowmanagedtoharnessher

hair into a Frenchbraid. As she wastwisting two wispsaround her fingers tomake them curl on hercheeks,aknockcameatthedoor.“Miss Cantrell?” Lady

Isabella’s voice intoned,deflatinganyhopesthatDavid had come to seeher.“Come in, my lady.”

Leahglancedinthefull-

length mirror,smoothing her form-fittingskirt.“Thedoor’sopen.”Isabella entered,

wearing a long floralprintgown,accessorizedwith fat, sparklingsapphires at her throatand ears--found, nodoubt, among thetreasures in the gatehouse. She smiled atLeah. “You look lovely,

dear.I’mpleasedtoseeyou’re wearing black.Your dress will gosplendidlywiththese.”She held out a velvet

box and opened thehingedlid.Insidewasadazzling matched set ofdiamond--yes,unquestionablydiamond--earrings andnecklace.Leahcouldn’tbeginto

estimate the combinedcaratsset in thepieces,let alone their value.Just thinkingabout theprospect of wearingthem, she held up ahand to her throat.“Oh,mylady,thankyousomuch, but I couldn’tpossibly--”“Of course you can,

dear.” Isabellaremovedthe necklace, placingthe box on Leah’s

dressing table. “Turnaround, so I can putthisonyou.”“Really, I . . .” She

swallowed, actuallyafraid to wear thepreciousjewels.Whatifsomething happened tothem?On the other hand,

she recognized a once-in-a-lifetime chancewhen she got one. Her

gaze seemed caught onthe twinkling gems.“Are you sure youdon’tmind lending them tome?”Isabella laughed.

“Quite sure--not that Iclaimthemformyown.Everything we foundtodaybelongstoDavid.Without him--and you,ofcourse--JonathanandI never would havelocated them. This is

the least reward youdeserve for yourpart insaving theestate. Now,turnaround.”Leah gave in, lifting

her thick braid withtremblingfingers.Her ladyship strung

the jewels around herneck, heavy and coolagainst her skin.Isabella clasped theback and reached forthe earrings, handing

them to Leah. “I’ll letyou put these onyourself. You lookbeautiful, dear. I hopethis makes up--partially, anyway--formy poor treatment ofyou. I’m sorry Idistrustedyou.”Leah tore her gaze

away from themulticolored sparks atherthroatandsmiledather. “You had every

reasonnot to trustme.I’m only glad the wholetruthisoutnow.”Isabella chuckled.

“And I’m glad David’sbeensobusycatalogingand securing his findsthathedidn’thavetimeto present you withthese diamondshimself. If not, youmightnothaveacceptedmyapologysoquickly.”“Of course I would

have.”Shelookedaway,eyeing the still-boxedearrings. “Is that whathetoldyou--thathewastoobusytoseeme?”“Oh, no. He said

nothing. I gathered asmuchmyself.Youknowhow men are. Whentheyget involvedwithatask,theyhavenomindforanythingelse.”Gazefixed on her, Isabellatilted her head to one

side. “Don’t worry,dear.Whenheseesyouin that little get-up,cataloging items will bethe last thing on hismind.”Leahtriedtosmilebut

feltherlipsquiver.Herthroat constricted andkept her fromanswering.Isabella reached up

and grazed her cheekwith the back of her

hand. “I nearly forgothow difficult beingyoung is. Trust in mywise old opinion, dear.And don’t forget to puton those earrings. I’llseeyoudownstairs.”Leah watched her

leave, blinking to holdback tears. Herladyship had a gentleside she would haveliked to get to know.Maybe they would keep

intouch.Shehopedso.She picked up the

earrings and leanedtoward the mirror, alittle startled by theelegance of her ownreflection. Withfumbling fingers, sheput on the diamonddrops and stood back,taking a deep breath.She never would haveimaginedshecouldlooksosophisticated.

The precious gemscalled foramoremade-up face. She added acoat of mascara to herlashesanddabbedonarichershadeoflipstick.Pouting Cabernet-colored lips at hermirrorimage,sheshookherheadinwonder. “Ifthis doesn’t give himsecond thoughts,nothingwill.”When she stepped

into the hall, she couldhear voices drifting upfromthedrawingroom.Hesitating at the top ofthestairs,shemadeoutenough to tell that therest of the party hadalready converged. Shecontorted her mouthinto a stiff smile andsauntered down to thedrawingroom.Her gaze flew straight

to David, sinfully

gorgeousinablacktux.He stood talking withherfatheranddidn’tseeher enter the room.Lady Isabella sat on asofa with her brother,and Kevin slouchedacross from them,strategically positionedbefore a tray of horsd’oeuvres. He glancedher way and lookedback down, showingmore interest in the

food. Apparently, herdeclaration in thedriveway had ended hisattempt to win herback.She’dbehappyifshe never had to speaktohimagain.David looked over as

she crossed the floor,hisgazebarelysweepingdownherbodybeforehereined in his focus toherface.Hebowedandcame up with a smile

that almost lookedformal--not exactly thegaping awe she’d hopedtoinspire.“Whoa, aren’t you

dressed to the nines!”Her father joined themand gaveher bare backa slap. “Dave here’sbeen telling me aboutthehiddentreasureyoufound.So,itturnsoutIwas wrong about yourblowing off your trip,

wasn’t I? You’ve had ahell of an adventure,while Jeanine’s stucktrying to swallow snailsand flag down snootywaiters.”She tried tosmilebut

hada feeling she’d onlycomeupwithagrimace.“Dinnerisserved,”Mr.

Warnerannouncedfromthedoorway.They all moved into

the dining room, where

her father made a fussover the “pretty” tablesetting. She got seatednext to David and triednot to stare at him.Eachtimesheweakenedand looked, he caughther in the act and gaveher a rigid-lookingsmile. Where was thepassion she’d seen inhis eyes for those fewshort days they weretogether?

She didn’t have it inher to make muchconversation. Herfather and Daviddominated most of thetalk throughout dinner,trading opinions aboutthe future bed-and-breakfast and the cardealership Daddymanaged. LordSolebury and LadyIsabella added theirviewpoints,butsheand

Kevin spoke only whensomeone questionedthem. She supposedKevin couldn’t beenjoyinghimself,buthemadenoefforttotalktoher, so she didn’t givehimmuchthought.After dinner, they

went back to thedrawing room, whereDavid again paired upwith her father. Leahkept to herself, staring

intoaglassofwine.Herlast night at SoleburyHouseandDavidwasn’tpaying her one iota ofattention. She hadn’tyet told him sheintended to leave thenext day, but shedoubtedtheinformationwould make muchdifference.Still,shedidwant to take him asideand inform him inprivate,soshecouldsee

hisreaction.Evenifsheended up giving awayhow much she lovedhimandmakinga totalfool of herself, she hadtotrytotalktohimonelasttime.She got up and

walked across the roomto where he and herfatherstood.Atthefirstbreak in conversation,sheasked,“David,canIspeak to you in private

foraminute?”He raised his

eyebrows and looked aquestiontoherfather.Daddyshrugged. “Go

ahead.Don’tmindme.”“Let’s go out on the

terrace,” Leah saidbefore she lost hernerve.David looked at her

father again, then backtoher.“IhaveonemorematterIwanttodiscuss

withyourfather.Ishallbe with you in amoment.”Her fingers tightened

around the stem of herwineglass.Somuchforherirresistibleoutfit,letalone the possibility ofhis having real feelingsforher.“Fine.” She took her

drinkandwentoutontothe terracealone. If hedidn’t follow, she knew

she’d have to acceptthat shemeant nothingtohim.The spring air chilled

her exposed back andarms, but the heat ofherangerkeptherfromshivering. A good fiveminutes passed, andDaviddidn’t come. Herlast hopes dwindledwith the wine in herglass. When she’ddowned the remaining

gulp, she glanced backintothedrawingroom.Through the

weathered Frenchdoors, she saw Davidand her father bentclose together,engrossed in talking.Daddy made a motionwith his head and thetwo of themwalked outof the room,disappearing from herview.

Her jaw dropped.Well, there it was--thefinal insult! He’dforgottenher.Sheturnedandstared

outintotherosegarden,the heavy scent of theblooms teasing hernostrils. Damn, shewould miss Soleburyalmostasmuchasshe’dmisshim.Suddenly, she got an

urge to see the spring

one final time. Sheneeded to say goodbyeto the water sprites orwhoeverhad engineeredher adventure. True,they could have givenher a better return forthe gold coin she’dsacrificed to them--butall she had wished forwas to know who’doriginally owned thecoinandiftheygottheirwish. Now she knew

David had thrown thecoin into the pool in1815...andhehadallhe could possibly wishfor.She set down her

glass and stepped intothe garden. Thechirping of cricketsaccompaniedheronherwalk, again remindingher what a wonderfulplace Solebury was.She had gained a belief

inmagichere...andanew respect for wish-making.Next time she made

one, she’d be sure toworditcarefully.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

“Ihaveneverknowna

woman quite like yourdaughter.”Davidtookadeepbreathandliftedadecanter of burgundyfrom the desk in LordSolebury’sstudy.Asherefilled Mr. Cantrell’sgoblet, a droplet or twosplashed onto the floor,

but at least his gripappeared steady. Hehadnever asked amanforhisdaughter’shand--never imagined hewould have occasion todo so. Now he wishedhe had a better idea ofhow one handled thetrick.Heheldoutthegoblet,

hoping his companiondidn’tnoticetheliquid’s

quivering. “BesideLeah’s extraordinarybeauty, she has anunmatchedinnergrace.She doesn’t prejudgeothers--and, aboveall, Iadmire her self-reliance.”Leah’sfatheraccepted

the drink and lookeddown into his glass. “Ihavetoadmitshe’salotmore independent thanI realized. I never

thought she’d gothroughwiththistriptoEurope, letalonedecideto stay in England byherself.Foragirlwho’sneverreallybeenoutonherown,thattookguts.Ofcourse,Ididn’tseeitthat way at first. SheandKevinonlybrokeupa few weeks ago. Iassumedshewasontherebound.”David didn’t quite

understand the termbut forged on with hisspeech. “I know thatyou have favored Kevinoverme--”“I wouldn’t say that.”

Without making visualcontact, themantossedbacka gulp ofwine. “Imean, I’ve alwaysthought Kevin’s allright. He’s never reallygivenmeanyreasonnotto. He works hard at

thedealership--thatsortof thing. But he’s notparticularlya favoriteofmine.”The statement

encouraged David. Hehad seen Mr. Cantrell’sannoyance with Kevinbut hadn’t known quitehow little leverage hisrival had. Still, thequestion remained ofhow much headway hehimself had made with

Leah’s father. Could asingle evening ofconversation win himthe kind of respect herequired?Hesippedhisdrinkto

ease his dry mouth.“Indeed?”“I only brought him

alongwithmeassortofthelesseroftwoevils.Ididn’t like the idea ofsome playboy takingadvantageofLeah.”Mr.

Cantrell looked up athim and grinned.“That’s how I picturedyou,ifyoucanimagine.Here,youturnouttobeabout themost serious,business-minded youngfellow I’ve evermet--notexactly the playboytype.”David allowed himself

a cautious smile. Theterm “playboy” wasunfamiliar, but he felt

certain the word didn’tdescribehim.Leah’s father stepped

around the desk andseated himself in thechair behind it. “Iapologize for makingthat kind ofassumption.I’llhavetoapologize to Leah, too.She told me she madethedecisiontostayherewithaclearhead,but Ididn’tbelieveheruntil I

got to know you andyour family. I mean, Iknow there’s anattraction or whateverbetween you two, butnot the kind of thing Iwasafraidof.Youhavea very nice family. Nowonder Leah chose tostay here rather thantravel on with Jeanine.Jeanine can be a littleoverbearingattimes.”David heard only half

of his words, staringinto his goblet. “Youmentioned my beingbusiness-minded, sir.Doyoubelievetheplansfor the bed-and-breakfastaresound?”His companion

nodded.“I’msureyou’llearn plenty enough tomaintain this place,evenasmassiveasitis.I still can’t get over thehidden treasure. It’s

like something out of amovie.Itmustfeelgoodto suddenly findyourselfoutof thehole,eh?”“Inexpressiblyso.”He

cleared his throat.“You, uh, understand,then, that my financialsituationhasdrasticallychanged from when wespokethismorning?”“Well,ofcourse.That

goes without saying.”

Mr. Cantrell lifted hisglassbutstoppedbeforedrinking, eyeing Davidsharply. “Wait aminute--you’re notabout to start talkingabout your ‘goodintentions’ again, areyou?”He couldn’t help but

look away. “Themarquess and I spentthe entire afternooncataloging assets and

calculating what capitalwe shall need formortgagepaymentsandrestoration.Theresultsare quite clear. I canunquestionably providefor your daughter now.LordSoleburywillattesttoit,andwe’repreparedto show you figures, ifyouwish.”Leah’s father rose

again, rubbing hisbrow. “Let me make

sure I understand this,though I still think Imust have it wrong.You’re saying you wanttomarrymydaughter?”He nodded, wishing

the man would end hismountingtensionwithasimple answer: Wouldhe give his blessing ornot?“After such a short

time?” His would-befather-in-law scratched

the red fuzz on hishead. “I mean, you’veknowneachotherwhat--fourorfivedays?”David’s stomach

rolled, but he tried tosmile. “However manydays,eachonehasbeenextraordinary.Moreover, I shouldn’twant to give this Kevinfellow any furtheropportunity to courther.Hehasalreadyhad

an advantage over me,sir--several years’worth.”Mr. Cantrell let out a

short laugh. Shakinghis head, he saidquietly, “Wait till hermotherhearsthis.”David frowned.

Perhaps Leah’s motherheld Kevin in moreesteem than her fatherdid. “Do you believeyour wife will have

objections,sir?”This time the man’s

laugh rang out. “ToLeah marrying a richand handsome Englishlord?Idon’tthinkso!”So the mother would

not prove an obstacle.He waited to receivepermission to pay hisaddresses, but still Mr.Cantrell dallied overhiswine, chuckling tohimself. Finally, David

cleared his throatagain. “I . . . I shouldlike to offer for yourdaughtertonight,sir.”“You don’t say?” The

smirkontheman’sfacelooked more likeamusement thangladness. “Well, this isoneforthebooks!Waittill I tell theguysat thedealership.”At last, David could

wait no longer. “Sir,

please, do I or do I nothaveyourpermissiontoaddressher?”“Mypermission?”The

grin on his lips finallyfaded, replaced by avagueOshape. Silenceseemed to hangendlesslybetweenthem,thenhe laughed again.“Hell,yeah.”

****Leahstareddowninto

the arid hole where the

springhadgushed.Themud at the bottomwasnowdriedandcracked.Aroundtheedges,mosshadbeguntobrownandharden. She shouldhave known the poolwouldbegone.Thelosttreasures had beenreturned to theTraymores. The needformagichadpassed...forthem,anyway.Shecouldstilluseamiracle.

Abreezeskimmedthenylon covering her legs,andshepulledherarmstightly around hertorso. The night hadbecome cold--thoughmaybe itwasn’t theair,but the . . . finality.Like the spring, herhopes had dried, gonelifeless.“I knew you’d be

here,” a soft male voicesaidamidstthecrickets’

chorus.Though she hadn’t

heard David come upbehind her, somehowhis presence didn’tstartle her. He alwaysseemed to show upwhen she went to thespring.She turned around

and immediatelywishedhe hadn’t come.Shadows hid hisfeatures, but even his

silhouetted form sent ashot of longing throughher. In this very spot,she’d felt his armsaround her for the firsttime. Sheached to feelthatwarmthagain.“I came to say good-

bye,” she said, lookingdownatherfeet.“Iwastoo late. The spring’sdry.”“Good-bye? To the

spring? Then you

presumed it would dryup--and yet you appeardisappointed.” Hestepped forward andlifted her chin so shehad to look into hissmile, a smile thatshowed he shared noneof her grief. “Don’t tellme you will miss beingthrust into unknowneras,nearlydrowninginthe process. I know Ishan’t.”

She swallowed, splitbetween wanting tobreak free of historturous touch andwanting to savor everylast trace of contact.“No, that’s not what I’llmiss...”“You are thinking of

Phoebeandmyfather?”Hissmilevanished,andhisfingersslidfromherface. He turned andstooped beside the

spring hole, grazing thedried moss with theback of his hand. “Ihave regrets there, aswell.”Shetouchedherchin,

whereshe imaginedshecould still feel thepressure of hisfingertips. In herpreoccupation withlosing him, she’dforgotten about his

losses. How could shehave thought he hadeverything, when thefather he might havehad--for the first time--was gone forever, deadalmosttwocenturies.“I. . . I’m sorry. It’s ashame you and yourfather had to separatejust when you’d reallybegun to value eachother.”“If only I had been a

bit quicker to see . . .”He trailed off, staringinto the night. “No, Icouldn’t possibly haveseen that wretchedbusiness in any otherlight. Even now Icannot forgive hisspurning my mother.Sheacceptedthechoicehe made, yet I cannot.Mama deserved bettertreatment.”“Ofcourseshedid.”

“What pains me mostisknowinghowdifferentmatters might havebeen--indeed, almostwere.” He stood andfaced her, his jaw sethard. “Today I learnedjusthowclosemyfathercametomarryingMamabefore his familyinterfered. Among theitemsatthegatehouse,I found a betrothal ringengraved with her

name. The inscriptionis dated 1784, the yearbeforeIwasborn.Leah,Iwas verynearly a realson,notabastardbutanobleman, thelegitimate heir toSolebury.”As she watched

emotion flicker acrosshis face, she winced insympathy.“Butyouareall that, David--even

legitimate, now thatFatehaspositionedyouto take your place asviscount. A greaterpower has restoredeverything originallydenied to you. It’s allrightfullyyours.Ireallybelieveso.”“I am not certain I

do.” He clenched hisfists. “One thing I doknow, however, is thatI’ve been conveyed here

to put this estate torights. Thank heavenforyourcleverthinking,Leah. I shall neverbelieve I deserve thisfortune,butatleastthebed-and-breakfast willallow me to shareSolebury’s pleasureswiththeworld.”She smiled. He did

haveagoodheart, evenif he hadn’t found aplaceinitforher.

Hecombedhisfingersthrough his hair.“Forgiveme,love.WhenI followed you here, Ihad no intention ofcarrying on aboutmyself. I wanted, first,to apologize for thewayItreatedyouyesterday--forupsettingyouso.”She froze, taken off-

guard by theendearmentandunsurewhetherornot toadmit

how much he’d upsether. If she spelled outher feelings, she wouldletdownthethinveilofdignityshehadleft,andher confession wouldn’tchange his lack of lovefor her. Tears burnedher eyes, and sheturnedherbacktohim.“I suspectmyreasons

for moving to anotherchamber may not havebeenascleartoyouasI

supposed.” Frombehind her, he placedhis hands on her bareshoulders, promptinggoosebumpstoriseuntilhis touch warmedthem. “The differencesbetween yourupbringing and mineare proving greatindeed. I’ve hadparticular difficultycomprehending yourfather’s expectations,

but tonight he and Iseemtohavereachedanunderstanding.”Her father again?

Obviously, David camefrom a hopelesslymale-oriented culture. Whileshe stood here piningforhislove,allhecaredabout was her father’sviewsandopinions!Shespun around andfrowned up at him.“What does my father

have to do withanything?”“That’swhat I’vebeen

tryingtodetermine.”Hesmiled and reached upto one of her earrings.His fingers brushedherear lobe, sendingshivers down the napeofherneck.“Diamondsbecome you, Leah. Ibelieve Phoebe worethese the day she andmy father were wed.

She would have likedyoutohavethemnow.”“Tohave them?” The

outrageous statementthrew her off track--probably his intention.He couldn’t havemeanthave the earrings. Hemust have meant wearthem.Sheputherhandto her throat to makesurethenecklacehadn’tslipped off. “Lady

Isabella lent these tome,andI’llreturnthemtheminute I take themoff. God, I shouldn’teven have worn themouthere. What if I lostone of the pieces in thewoods?”“I know you will take

better care than that.”He let go of hershoulders and reachedintohisjacket.“Isabellacantellyouwhethershe

meantthemasaloanora gift, but I havesomething I mean foryou to keep. I onlyhope, above all things,thatyou’llagree.”Shewatchedhimtake

asmallvelvetboxoutofhispocket. The idea ofkeeping Lady Isabella’sdiamondswasoutofthequestion,butshewouldlove to have a littlesouvenir from David--

and of Solebury.Knowing the item musthave come from theestate, she held herbreath.He opened the box,

but his hand still hidthepiecefromview. Ashe took it out, themoonlight caught on aprecious jewel,sparkling like fairydust. Whenhehelduphis hand, she saw the

ring, a large diamondwith smaller gemssprinkled along abeautifully workedband.“Oh--” Her voice

caught in her throat.The ring wasmagnificent, not asouvenir but atreasure. She couldn’tspeak and could barelythink a coherentthought.Ofcourse,she

couldn’t accept it. Itcouldn’t be right. Shereally wanted amemento of him, butshecouldn’ttakethis.“Ihopeyoudon’tmind

that it carries someoneelse’s name.” His gaze,when she looked up toit,seemedtopiercerightthrough to her soul.“Perhaps that can bealtered.Allowmetotryitonyourfinger.”

Before she couldprotest--maybe shedidn’twantto,notyet--he’d lifted her left handand slipped the ringonto her finger. Thebandfitperfectly.Foralongmoment, theybothstared at her hand inhis, adorned with theglittering diamond, likeone of those perfect,retouched photos insomeone’s wedding

album.“The name it bears is

mymother’s.”Hisvoicecame out low and soft.“You will see theinscription when wehavebetterlight.Idon’timagine she ever got toseeit.”Her gaze shot to his.

“This is the betrothalring? You would giveme your mother’sbetrothalring?”

He nodded. “I wouldhope tomake it yours--tosignifyourbetrothal.”Her lips parted but

nothing came out.Could this really behappening?Shefeltherhand began to trembleinhis.He closed his fingers

around hers. “I don’tknowhowpeopledecideto wed in these times.

Your father seemed tothinkIhadlostmywitswhen I asked hispermission to addressyou, but in the end hedidnotobject.”“You asked Daddy’s

permission? Wait--wasthat why you’ve beenspending so much timewithhim?”Suddenly,awonderful warmthbegan simmering upinside her, and the

beginning of a smiletuggedathermouth.Hisgaze feltheavyon

her, intense. “Heassuredmeyourmotherwould offer noobjections,either.”A giddy little giggle

bubbledherthroat.“Noone will offerobjections!”“Not you?” The

moonlight glinted inhiseyes, lifting some of

theirintensity.“Leastofall,me.”She

pulled free of his handto crushhim inahug.Hisbodywaswarmandsolid,andshecouldfeelhisbreathcomeoutinaragged sigh. So he’dbeen unsure she wouldhave him! Her eyesfilled with fresh tears.“Oh, David, I thoughtyou’d decided to leave

me. If youdidn’tmeantoleaveme,whydidyoumoveoutofourroom?”He kissed the top of

her head, holding hertight against his chest.“Your father’s arrivalreminded me howdishonorably I’d beenconducting myself. Ihad no right to shareyour bed withoutmakingyoumywife,butI hadn’t the means to

offer for you. I had nowaytokeepyou.”“David,David...your

perspective is soarchaic.” She tiltedherface up to grin at him.“I was going to keepyou!”He looked shocked.

“Youwere?”“Yes, as long as the

spring didn’t suck youaway from me again.”

She glanced over hershoulderattheholeandfelt a new twinge ofnerves. “It won’t, willit?Imean,doyouthinkitmight gushupagain,or will it really let youstay here? You don’tthink it will force youbacktoyourowntime?”“History is written,

Leah. The sixthmarquess’s bastard sondisappeared in 1815

andneverreturned.”“So now you’re the

current marquess’slegitimateson--butwhatif that David Traymorereturns?” She stillcouldn’tquiteletherselfbelieve Fate could beshining so brightly onher. All day, she’dcursed herself forwasting her originalwishinthespring.Had

she wasted it or not?“LordSoleburyseemstothink his son may onlybelost.”He shook his head.

“Isabella told me thatthey were all on theyacht when it capsizedin the storm. Thoughthe viscount’sbodywasnever recovered, shesawhimgodownforthethirdtime.Sheisquitecertain he is gone. His

lordship has denied thetruth for many years,but I believe even histhinkingischanging.”She took in a deep

breath. Yes, this wasmeant tobe;shehadn’twasted her wish. Shesmiled.“Givemeakiss,mylord.”“Don’t call me that.”

He leaned down andcaught her mouthhungrily, officially

sealingtheirfate.When they paused,

she whispered, “WhatshouldIcallyou?”“You’ve called me

David from themomentwe met. I’ve alwaysliked your informality.”He grinned. “Yourfather goes a stepfurther and calls meDave. I like that aswell. It has acontemporaryring.”

“Shouldwegobacktothe house andannounce ourengagement, Dave? Orshall we stay rightwhereweare,alone?”“I thought perhaps

we’d stop by the gatehouse and plan therenovations.”Heputanarm around her waist,and they turned towardthe path. “Would youconsider our residing

there once the buildingisrestored?”“I’dlovetolivethere!”

Another wish cometrue.Anymoreandshewould burst withhappiness. “I alreadyhave some wonderfulmemories of the gatehouse. I’m glad thetreasure is big enoughtorepairit.”“More than big

enough.” Hepulledher

so close they couldhardly walk. “We caneven restore thespringhouse, if wewant.”She glimpsed back

onelasttime.Themoongave the building aneerieglowthatmadehershiver.“Idon’t thinkso,” she

said. She was gratefulforeverythingthespringhad brought about, but

she’d had enoughmystical adventure tolast her some time.“What do you say togettingaswimmingpoolinstead?”“Anything you wish.”

He leaned down andkissedheragain.

Copyright©1999byJenniferZorgerOriginallypublishedbyBerkley/JoveTimePassages(0-515-12433-8)Electronicallypublishedin2005byBelgraveHouse/RegencyReadsALLRIGHTSRESERVED

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namesinthispublicationarefictitiousandanyresemblancetoanypersonlivingordeadiscoincidental.