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Talk of the Town

Fitzwilliam Darcy was met by his wife at the front door that evening. She wore a long cloak which covered her from her shoulders to her ankles, which he very quickly noticed were bare.

"I would say you prepared a bit too early for dinner with the Ellingtons, but you are not wearing shoes," he said.

"Slight change of plans, darling. I thought you would enjoy an evening at home with me...in my bed chamber."

Darcy's eyebrows shot up. "I was not aware you even knew you had a separate bed chamber from mine. I thought you considered it an oversized dressing room."

"It has other uses, which I would like to explore." She gave him a slow, secretive smile, and as she did so she slid one leg free of the cloak to reveal a glimpse of the sheer silk covering it.

Fitzwilliam gave no further thought to leaving the house that evening, being quite content to chase his suddenly playful wife up the stairs and into her room for the evening. He gave no further thought to anything, not even thinking of his sister, which had been Elizabeth's ultimate goal.

The following morning, he was practically gliding down the stairs into the kitchen to get a light repast with which to wake his wife.

"Good morning, Katie," he said with a smile to one of the maids in the kitchen.

"Good mornin', Mr. Darcy," she replied.

"What has Monsieur Rabelais prepared this morning?"

Katie wrinkled her nose, her idea of a proper breakfast much different from the snooty French chef's. "Croissants," she said. "And some other things which a body can barely pronounce, much less eat."

"I am certain it will be perfect. Would you mind fixing a tray for Mrs. Darcy? She is...indisposed at the moment." Darcy did not want to admit that he was going to bring his wife breakfast in bed.

Katie smiled knowingly, for the entire household knew how Mr. Darcy doted on his lovely wife. It was enough to make a poor kitchen maid dream of finding her own rich, handsome man, just as Elizabeth Bennet had done four years ago. "Not at all," she replied. "Should I make a tray for Miss Georgiana as well? She has not come down to breakfast, either."

Fitzwilliam frowned. "She has not?"

"No. She did not come down to supper last night, either. I thought it a bit unusual, and Mrs. Darcy did not say to bring her a tray or no, but after the disagreement I heard going on between Miss Georgiana and that Sir Lysander, I figured the poor girl's heart was breaking."

Fitzwilliam perked up at this. If Georgiana and that bounder had had a falling-out, it could only be for the best. He did not trust Lysander Overton, though he did have a grudging respect for him. He might even like him if the man had not had an interest in Georgiana. He had reluctantly agreed to the courtship, knowing in his heart that Lysander would grow bored eventually, leaving Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth to mend Georgiana's broken heart. Georgiana needed someone gentler, someone capable of loving. From everything Fitzwilliam had heard, Lysander would never be capable of that.

"What disagreement?" he asked.

"Well, I did not hear all of what was said, but Miss Georgiana was saying something about Sir Lysander was a coward and he was saying if she were a man he would call her out. I think Miss Georgiana was crying."

Fitzwilliam felt a small ache in his heart for her. The poor girl, he thought. But best that it happened before the Season is over. Now she shall have enough time to look for someone more worthy of her.

"After he left, I didn't see her again," Katie was saying.

Fitzwilliam frowned again. "Not at all?"

"No. You might ask Mrs. Merriweather or--"

Fitzwilliam did not bother to take his leave of the young woman before calling for the housekeeper. Mrs. Merriweather was nearing seventy, well past the age when her daughter Mrs. Hastings should have taken over the post. However, Fitzwilliam did not have the heart to pension the older woman off, and so things remained as they were in the London house.

He found her in the library, dusting a bookshelf.

"Mrs. Merriweather?" he called loudly, for the woman's hearing was not what it once was.

She turned and, upon realizing it was him, smiled sunnily. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy," she said in a pleasant voice.

"Good morning. Have you seen Miss Georgiana this morning?" he asked.

The woman's brow furrowed as the tried to think. "I do not think so, sir. The last time I saw her, she was leaving to go to the dressmaker's. At least, that was what she said."

"When was that?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"When did she return home?"

Mrs. Merriweather's rosy cheeks lost colour. "I-I do not remember her coming home."

Fitzwilliam felt the first grasp of fear clutch at his stomach. "Why did you not tell me this last night?" he asked.

"Well, sir, you and Mrs. Darcy asked not to be disturbed and I just figured that Miss Georgiana was staying with her cousins over at Fitzwilliam House and--"

That had to be it, he told himself. She would have taken solace with Anne and Cordelia, naturally, and so that was where she had to be.

"I shall return shortly. Would you please tell Katie to take the tray up to Mrs. Darcy?"

"Of course, sir. Mr. Darcy," she continued before he could leave the library.

"Yes, Mrs. Merriweather?"

"If something has happened to Miss Georgiana, I...I do not think I could forgive myself for not realizing she was missing sooner."

Fitzwilliam nodded slowly, understanding her sentiments because she mirrored his exactly.

Fifteen frustrating minutes later, Fitzwilliam returned home without Georgiana. When he had arrived at his uncle's home to discover that not only was Georgiana not there, she had never been there yesterday, he had nearly been sick. The dressmaker had been open, but Georgiana had not arrived there, either.

He had expected Elizabeth to be eating her breakfast in bed, but to his surprise she was dressed in a somber gray gown and awaiting his return when he opened the door to her bedroom.

"Good morning, Fitzwilliam," she said quietly.

"Elizabeth...she is gone. She was not at Uncle Matlock's, and she did not go to the dressmaker. She has simply vanished. I do not know what has become of her." Fitzwilliam was on the verge of tears as he clasped his wife to him, holding onto her as if she were going to disappear as his sister had. Her buried his face in her hair, which was still unbound, as the tears fell.

"Darling, I know what has happened to her."

Fitzwilliam lifted his head and looked at her. "You know where she is? Is she home? Is she all right? What happened to her?"

"I cannot say for certain that I know where she is, but I know..." Elizabeth pulled a letter out of her pocket. "I found this note. Georgiana must have left it yesterday."

Fitzwilliam yanked it out of Elizabeth's hands and nearly ripped it apart in an effort to open it. He read through it quickly, the words not quite comprehendable the first time. It took two more readings before he realized exactly where Georgiana had done.

"My God," he breathed. "I cannot believe she did this. I cannot believe she did this! Again!"

"Fitz--"

"I had enough trouble covering her mistake the first time, and now she has gone and compounded it by doing this! With him! What on earth could she have been thinking of by doing this?"

"I think she was afraid of getting just such a reaction when she announced her intention of marrying Sir Lysander," Elizabeth said calmly.

"I shall have it annulled. She is not old enough to marry without my consent, and I shall not give it. I would not give it to her when she eloped with George Wickham even when he threatened to reveal what she had done unless I paid him. I am not about to give it to her now."

"You would ruin us all, then? Even Grace?"

Fitzwilliam stopped ranting. "She has already done that," he said coldly.

"No, she has not. There certainly shall be speculation about the haste of their wedding, but Georgiana has done nothing of which she should be ashamed. She is not going to present Sir Lysander with an heir six months from now."

"Then why the haste? Why the secrecy? Why did she run away to get married?"

"Were you listening to me a moment ago? I mentioned that she might have fear this when she told you she wanted to marry him. Admit it, Fitzwilliam. You would not have been happy."

"He does not deserve her!" Fitzwilliam said savagely.

"Perhaps he does, perhaps he does not. That was Georgiana's choice to make, and she has made it."

"You knew about this, didn't you?" He glared at his wife. "You knew she was running away with him yesterday."

"Yes, I did."

"Then last night, the whole thing, was nothing but a set-up. You deliberately kept me occupied so that I would not know Georgiana was missing. You let her run away! How could you do that, Eliza?"

Elizabeth cringed at hearing him say her name in such a voice. It brought back too many bad memories for her. "I knew George Wickham was an opportunist out to get whatever he could. Georgiana was taken in by his lies and trickery. Lysander loves her, and she loves him. She is a woman full grown and we should respect her judgment."

"How can I do that when she elopes with the man? She did not have the courage to face me, to tell me that she wanted to marry him."

"I think there was more to her decision than that."

"Was there?" Fitzwilliam frowned. "I am beginning to see everything. You encouraged her to do this, didn't you? You knew I would never approve of the match and--"

"I knew nothing until I read that note. Yes, I seduced you last night to keep you from running after her. I seem to recall you enjoying it a great deal, I might add, but that is neither here nor there. But if you would take the time to read her note again, you would understand that she was ready to be married. She wanted to start a new life. And patience, my dear, is not a trait the Darcy family is especially known for."

Fitzwilliam shook his head, but he knew that he could not block out his wife's words. They were the truth.

"She loves him as you love me. She shall be happy with him. If you go after her and force her to annul her marriage--and make no mistake about it, Fitzwilliam, by now they are married--you will only make her miserable. She shall resent you. And whether you like it or not, she shall marry him again when she no longer needs your approval. If you do this, you shall tear the family apart."

Fitzwilliam sat heavily on the bed. Elizabeth sank on the floor on her knees beside him.

"I know it is difficult for you. We have had this discussion before, when you first agreed to let Lysander court her. You have to understand that the little girl with the braids who chased butterflies when her nanny let her out to play has become a woman. She has a woman's wants and needs." Elizabeth took his hands in hers. "You did a wonderful job raising her. Everyone who meets her adores her, and you are the principal cause of that. I know you think no man is good enough for you sister, and someday, we are going to have this same discussion again when Gracie decides to get married--"

"If Gracie elopes, I shall--"

"Let us table that discussion for seventeen or eighteen years," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Just remember whose daughter she is."

"Yours," Fitzwilliam muttered, but Elizabeth heard a slightly lighter side to his voice whether he realized it or not.

"When Georgiana and Lysander come back to London, I want you to welcome them. I want you to tell your sister that you are happy because she has found happiness. Was Lysander Overton the most obvious choice for Georgiana? Of course not. But if you think it over, you will realize that he is the one who can give her as much as you have given me. Would you ruin that for her?"

"No," he said softly.

"Very well, then." Elizabeth cupped his face with her hands, and raising herself, kissed him gently. "I love you, Fitzwilliam, even when you are being stubborn and arrogant."

"Even when you want to pull my hair out one strand at a time?" he asked.

"Even then."

"I suppose this would be the time to mention that I love you just as much, even when you are being devious and deceptive."

"Admit it. You rather like it when I do that, and don't you be forgetting that you have been devious and deceptive yourself."

"Would you be here now if I had not been?" he demanded.

"Who can say? All we can do is make the best of the things life gives us." Elizabeth smiled. "I like to think I got the best of things when I married you. And Georgiana is getting the best of things by marrying Lysander."

Fitzwilliam decided to stop her talking with another kiss, and before long, Georgiana and her new husband were the farthest things from his mind.

It was the dressmaker who first mentioned to a Lady Isley that Miss Georgiana Darcy had been missing since the afternoon before and was rumoured to have run off with Sir Lysander Overton. Lady Isley could barely contain her shock, or her glee, for gossip was much like air to her--absolutely necessary for survival. She had not quite made it out of the shop before she ran into an old friend of hers, Leonora, the new Duchess of Blackthorne. The two ladies talked for nearly half an hour, and although neither had ever met Georgiana Darcy, they agreed that she was a very lucky young woman.

Meeting with Lady Isley caused the duchess to be rather late for her afternoon tea with her stuffy mother-in-law, who was rather put out by this until she heard the newest gossip. Although she knew even less about the subjects than her daughter, the dowager duchess carried on quite long about it, and hours later could still be heard talking about headstrong girls who needed to be taken in hand so they would not scamper off with the first dandies they met. (A sentiment Fitzwilliam Darcy would have agreed with, had he ever met the dowager duchess.)

The dowager attended the opera that evening along with a dear friend of hers, Mrs. Amanda Churchill, a woman who had great trouble with her hearing. The dowager was forced to practically shout her news to her friend, thus insuring that anyone who had not yet heard about the elopement knew before the curtain rose for act one.

When the opera ended, Mrs. Churchill retreated to her home where people did not yell at her all the time, and where her nephew would be certain to get some amusement out of the situation. She informed Frank that Miss Darcy had eloped with some bounder named Lister, breaking her brother's heart and ruining any chance that her cousins had of making good matches.

"What family would wish to connect themselves with such tendencies allowed to rein unchecked?" she said loudly.

Frank merely rolled his eyes behind his aunt's back and told her courteously that he did not know how to answer her question. Besides, he had a feeling that the bounder was named Lysander, not Lister, and therefore Miss Georgiana Darcy had made quite a match for herself. Still, he did not hesitate to mention to all of his friends the latest bit of news. Soon all of London was talking of it.

By the following afternoon, when Fitzwilliam Darcy was to meet Robin Hamilton at that gentleman's request to discuss business at his club, he was getting tired of being stopped by everyone he knew and asked if it was true his sister had run off with Lysander Overton. He would only say that Georgiana had married and that she was currently on her wedding trip, but anything more he did not care to speculate about.

"I understand you are to be congratulated," Robin said when Darcy had seated himself.

It was on the tip of Fitzwilliam's tongue to say that condolences were more appropriate, but managed to remember in time that Lysander Overton was one of Robin's best friends and therefore not to be insulted.

"I believe that is true," he replied.

"I must confess that I was rather surprised at the haste of it. Only the other day Lysander was insisting that...well, Georgiana must have said something to change his mind."

Fitzwilliam glared at his friend. "He does not love her?"

Robin hesitated. "I think he does, but whether he was ready to admit that or not I cannot say. I do not think your sister would have run away with him if he had not. For all of that nonsense years ago, she did believe George Wickham was in love with her or she would never have left as she did."

Fitzwilliam cleared his throat quickly, indicating that they should change the subject as a servant stopped at their table with their drinks--brandy for Darcy, port for Robin.

"Sorry," Robin said quietly. "I was not thinking."

"It is all right." Fitzwilliam took a drink. "How go things with my cousin Anne?"

Robin smiled. "Splendidly. We are to announce our engagement at your aunt's costume ball."

"Costume ball? I was not aware my aunt was giving a costume ball. A dinner party was all I understood it to be."

"Did you not read your invitation when you received it? Apparently it was Lady Cordelia's idea, which is utter nonsense but it shall be somewhat different from the other balls and parties one attends throughout the Season."

"True." He sighed heavily. "I suppose this means I shall have to rummage through the attics to find something suitable and authentic. If I know my wife--and I do--she shall want to dress as something utterly outrageous."

"She cannot get more outrageous than Anne, who has tried to sell me on the idea of her dressing as Lady Godiva, with me as the horse."

Fitzwilliam snorted. "Good God, I certainly hope my uncle did not hear her make that suggestion."

"Why else would she have suggested it?" Robin chuckled. "I think the two of them have mended most of their fences, but Anne still has to devil him upon occasion. He turned an appropriate shade of red, but later in the evening I heard him chuckling and repeating her suggestion to himself. I think he is truly going to miss her when she marries me. I know she shall miss him."

"Shall she?"

"Yes. You must remember, Anne did not have a father growing up. In the last three years, Matlock has become a father figure for her. I think in some ways she believes her father would have acted much as Matlock did."

Fitzwilliam was thoughtful. "Perhaps. I was rather young when Lewis de Bourgh died, no more than six or seven. Anne would have been even younger than that. I doubt she remembers much about him."

"What was he like?"

"Much older than my aunt when they married. I do not know that she ever loved him, but I know he cared a great deal for her. He was a gentle soul. He always carried treats for me in his pockets when they came visiting Pemberley. He adored Anne." Fitzwilliam grinned. "And she adored him. He was the only person who could get her to stop crying when she would start up. He said she was clearly Papa's little girl. Then he died rather unexpectedly, before Anne truly got the chance to know him. My uncle would probably be the best person to ask about him."

Robin nodded, keeping that in mind.

Fitzwilliam sighed. "I do not suppose you have heard from your friend, have you?"

"That is what I came to discuss with you." Robin opened his overcoat and pulled something out of his pocket which turned out to be a letter. He handed it to Fitzwilliam. "Lysander must have posted this the other day, for I received it this morning. He addressed a brief note to me, informing me that he was soon to marry your sister, and asking me to be kind enough to give this letter to you."

Fitzwilliam glared at it as though it contained a ransom demand. For all he knew, maybe it did. Finally, he opened it, knowing that the other man would not be satisfied that he had done his duty until he had.

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I know that what has occurred between your sister Georgiana and myself must come as a great shock to you. I must confess that it has come as a great shock to me as well, for although I do not wish to go into the particulars, this being a rather happy day for me, I did not think I would ever find anyone I could love.

But today, I have found out I was wrong all along. I am in love with Georgiana.

I know that by eloping I am placing your sister in a perilous position with you. She loves you very much and she hesitated for quite a while before agreeing to marry me today, fearing you would never see her again. I must beg you to reconsider if that was your decision, for you would wound her greatly and I would not wish for that. I also realize that you are in a rather fragile position with London society, who must surely be aware of the particulars by now (or very soon will be). Georgiana and I have agreed that we shall return to London as soon as possible to finish out the Season before retiring to Glenwood Manor, my family estate. I had wanted to go there after our marriage, but Georgiana wishes to see her cousin Anne married and I have no objections to it.

You may think I do not deserve to marry you sister, and you would be right. I can only thank God that she does not realize it as well. I vow that I shall make her the happiest woman in the world, and once you get to know me better, you will know that I keep my promises. (If you wish sooner assurances of this, ask Lord Robin. He may tell you everything.)

I would hope upon our return to London that we would be welcome at your home, and until then I remain

Your Hopeful Brother,

Sir Lysander Overton.

Fitzwilliam folded the letter in silence before asking, "Did he say anything else in his note to you?"

Robin smiled. "Only that he knew he was in for much teazing when he returns here. I fear he is quite right, for neither Rupert nor myself shall be able to prevent ourselves from throwing his old words about never marrying in his face."

Fitzwilliam nodded. "He said that he would make her the happiest woman in the world, and if I needed proof, I should ask you how he keeps his promises."

"I would be most happy to--"

Fitzwilliam stopped him. "I shall need no proof from you. I shall wait to see my sister for myself. If, as he says and you believe, she is happy, then I can want nothing better for her, can I?"

"I would hope not," Robin replied.

Fitzwilliam put the letter in his pocket before picking up the brandy snifter and emptying it of its' contents. "Pray you have sons, lots of sons, with Anne," he said. "Daughters are too much to handle--and sisters are even worse."

Robin laughed loudly in reply.

It would be another week before Sir Lysander Overton and his new bride arrived after their elopement. They were first spotted by Miss Rose Cavendish, who spitefully told her cousin, Miss Violet Edgeworth, that the new Lady Overton looked to be increasing. How she could possibly have seen this when they were seated in a carriage was not taken into account.

The carriage was headed straight for the Darcy townhouse, and as it did so, Georgiana fearfully clutched Lysander's hand.

"You need not look like a child who is about to be reprimanded," Lysander told her softly, trying to loosen her painful grip on his hand. "Dearest, if you do not let go, you shall break my hand."

Georgiana looked down and noticed that her knuckles had turned white. She quickly let go of his hand, only to have him take hers within the clasp of his own and squeeze it gently in reassurance.

"I feel like I am to be reprimanded," she replied.

"Do you regret marrying me?" he asked.

"Not at all!"

"Then do not worry about what your brother shall say. You did the right thing."

"Not according to the ton. Not according to Fitzwilliam."

"Hang them. Has your cousin Anne taught you nothing? Society has rules which by and large are quite foolish. They want to regulate behaviour to the point where no one feels anything remotely passionate and genuine. If they think we did something wrong by marrying when we felt like marrying rather than waiting the 'acceptable' length of time, then hang them."

"You said that already." Georgiana did not feel one bit better about the situation but she did smile at him.

"So I did." He brought his still- throbbing hand to her chin and tilted her face up so he could kiss her.

Once her heart had managed to go back to beating regularly, she said, "It is not society I care so much about as it is my brother. He would be well within his rights to never see me again. We should have stopped by your home in order to see if he left a message or--"

"Better to face him this way, dearest. Do not return and allow him to consider what he shall say. He has had more than enough time to do that since we have been gone."

"We could have returned sooner," she protested.

Lysander gave her a heated look. "Do you regret that we did not?"

Georgiana blushed this time, thinking of everything that had occurred since she had last seen London. "Of course not."

"Thank heavens for that. I was beginning to fear that I had lost my touch."

"I would say touch is the last thing you have forgotten," Georgiana replied before blushing even redder at her less-than-ladylike response.

Lysander burst into laughter as the carriage rolled to a stop. "Oh, Georgiana, you constantly amaze me," he said as he kissed her again.

"I could say the same about you," Georgiana replied before his mouth claimed hers again.

They remained like this for nearly a minute until they heard Elizabeth discreetly clear her throat before saying, "If you wish to continue that, you could always take a turn about the park before coming back here."

Georgiana jumped back from her husband skittishly. Lysander refused to let her cower in the corner of the carriage, however, keeping her hands firmly in his.

"It is good to see you again, Georgiana," Elizabeth said. "Come in. Your brother has been expecting you."

"Is he...was he...mad?" Georgiana asked hesitantly.

"Yes, he rather was. But he did eventually see reason, or something like it. I think he has come to accept that you have married."

Georgiana still hesitated until Lysander said, "Dearest, you have to get out of the carriage if we are to see your brother."

The coachman quickly scurried to put down the steps so Georgiana could descend from the carriage. With quaking legs, she did so, but the minute Lysander set his feet on the ground her hand reached for his arm, grasping it as tightly as she had his hands earlier. He hissed in pain.

"Georgiana, you are going to cause Sir Lysander bodily damage if you do that," Elizabeth said. "Besides, if you do not let go of him, how am I to hug him and welcome him as a brother to our family? If I do not, the neighbors shall think we have not accepted your marriage."

"I somehow do not think the neighbors are watching us," Georgiana said with worried look as she gazed about at the houses on the street.

"Of course they are watching us," Elizabeth told her. When Georgiana reluctantly let go of Lysander's arm, Elizabeth extended her hand. "It is a pleasure to welcome you into the Darcy family, Sir Lysander."

"Thank you," he replied.

"When we are inside, I shall give you a hug but if I were to do that here, people would get suspicious."

"I gave Georgiana some advice on how to deal with society that I think you would appreciate," Lysander said.

"If you said to let them hang, I have already done that," Elizabeth said. "I married Fitzwilliam to spite them all after Caroline Bingley informed them of my parentage."

"And here I thought you married him for his estate," Georgiana teazed, which lightened her sister's heart immensely.

"That was another factor in his favour. Now, we must come inside before Fitzwilliam thinks you have kidnapped us both."

The threesome ascended the stairs, Elizabeth cheerful, Georgiana nervous, and Lysander seemingly the picture of calm. However, if truth be told, his stomach was quaking as badly as Georgiana's hand in his.

In the seven days they had been married, Georgiana Darcy had completely changed his life. Lysander would have told that to anyone who asked him how marriage agreed with him. He had not thought it possible that one lively young woman, barely out of the schoolroom, could turn his world completely upside down, but she had managed to do it. Her innocence made him think fondly of the rare moments he had had it himself. Her gentle spirit revived everything he thought dead within himself. Her eagerness left him breathless constantly.

He was utterly, completely in awe of her.

And he was not afraid to admit that, either.

Which was why he was nervous, because he knew she was nervous about seeing her brother for the first time since they got married. Which reminded him of a question he had been dying to ask.

"How is it that Fitzwilliam did not storm after us as he did before?" Lysander asked Elizabeth.

"Let us just say that he was rather distracted that evening," Elizabeth said, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

"Say no more," Lysander replied as the door opened before Elizabeth could reach for the knob.

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood there, looking more imposing than Lysander had ever seen him. He glared at Georgiana, his eyes looking as though they were searching for something. He stood there for a long minute before Lysander finally got fed up with it and placed himself between Fitzwilliam and Georgiana.

"Stop glaring at her like she has done something beyond the pale," Lysander snapped. "All she did was follow her heart."

Fitzwilliam nodded slowly, closing his eyes.

"Fitzwilliam, really, you are being far too dramatic for this scene. If your intention was to avoid giving the neighbors more to talk of, you have failed miserably." Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him.

Before Lysander fully understood what was going on, Fitzwilliam had grabbed his arm, dragged him into the house, and embraced him.

"Welcome to the family," Fitzwilliam told him, his eyes no longer glowing with a furious fire but rather with a mischievous one.

"Fitz! You are horrid!" Georgiana exclaimed just before her brother released her husband to hug her. When he released her, she said, "I thought you were serious!"

"If you had returned sooner, perhaps I might have been. However, Sir Lysander, you are fortunate enough to have my wife as your champion. She pointed out the error of my ways to me--"

"As she so often does," Elizabeth muttered as she shut the door.

Fitzwilliam grimaced slightly but continued. "But none of that matters now. All that remained was for me to reassure myself that you loved her, and I can see you do. So I do hope you will forgive me if I say that I was rather disappointed you decided to marry in secret...because it denied me the chance to see my sister married."

"Of course," Lysander said. "I understand completely. I am afraid I was completely selfish when I asked Georgiana to elope with me, but I am sure you will understand."

Fitzwilliam nodded. "I do, Lysander, completely." When he said this he smiled at his wife, who smiled at him in return.

Elizabeth would admit to no one that she breathed a silent sigh of relief that her husband had truly come to accept what was meant to be.

Dealing with the Devil

Within a week of their return to London, all of the ton was rhapsodizing over Sir Lysander Overton and his lovely young bride. While many a matchmaking mama sighed over the loss of yet another eligible--and yet ever so elusive--bachelor, by and large people were delighted that the wicked Sir Lysander had settled at last and married. Anyone who saw the newlyweds together had to admit that they certainly seemed besotted with each other. Those who approved of such things said that Sir Lysander would not have married otherwise. Those who thought marriages should be based on more prudential matters admitted that the addition of thirty thousand pounds and an almost-noble name enhanced Sir Lysander's already massive fortune and decent name. As for Lady Overton, it was believed she had married to get out from beneath her brother's influence, which was not the most prudent of motives for marrying but under the circumstances was acceptable.

Lysander and Georgiana made certain to limit their appearance both in number and in time. The number was a bit difficult, as the Season offered at least one or two amusements an evening, and sometimes more, but the time was less so. Lysander insisted that they return early in the evening so they could spend as much time together on their own as possible.

"You are incorrigible," Georgiana teazed him one night as he whisked her away from a rather entertaining card party.

"I am merely mad about my wife," he replied, giving her a hungry kiss and distracting her from any other sort of protest about their early departure.

One of the first calls Georgiana paid on her own was to her cousins, who had been as eager as the rest of the ton to hear about her elopement. Unlike everyone else, however, they were the only two who were going to hear all about it.

"Georgie!" Cordelia exclaimed when Wilberforce informed her that Lady Georgiana Overton awaited her presence. She had been in the billiard room with Anne talking of the upcoming costume ball while secretly playing billiards (a game which Matlock would be furious to know both his daughter and niece enjoyed playing).

Anne and Cordelia abandoned their game and rushed into the south parlor to Georgiana. Immediately, they threw their arms around her. They stood like this for more than a minute before Georgiana said, "I cannot breathe!"

With much laughter, they released each other. Wilberforce had sent for tea and tiny sandwiches without being asked, and they waited until the maid finished serving them and left before beginning their conversation.

"Del nearly fainted when your brother informed us you had eloped with Sir Lysander," Anne said.

"I did not! I merely had to sit down because of the shock," Cordelia protested.

"Same thing."

"Why did you not say anything, Georgie? We would have kept your secret. Perhaps we might have been able to help you," Cordelia said.

"It was rather sudden," Georgiana admitted. She told them much of what had happened the day Lysander had proposed. When she finished the story of Constance, she noticed that Anne did not seem surprised. "You knew the story, did you not?"

"I did," Anne said. "Robin told me. Did you know that Lysander likely had something to do with Lord Cassel's financial troubles?"

Georgiana nodded. "After we married, we talked more about what happened. He ruined him as payback for the way he had treated Constance, but managed it in such a way so that no one could prove he had done it."

"Lord Cassel has to know," Cordelia said. "Or at the very least, he has guessed."

"I think he suspects they are all behind it," Anne replied. "Sir Lysander, Lord Rupert, and Robin. All three of them."

"The Terrible Trio," Georgiana giggled.

"The what?"

"That is what Lysander says people called them when they were at Cambridge. They were the Terrible Trio."

Cordelia laughed. "I can see Lord Robin and Sir Lysander being part of it, but Lord Rupert? He is hardly the troublesome type."

"I think you would be surprised, Del, to know what Lord Rupert could get up to when he sets his mind to it," Georgiana said quietly. In a more jovial tone, she added, "According to Lysander, he was often the one who came up with ideas for pranks."

"So what happened after Lysander told you about the girl from Cambridge?" Anne asked.

"He realized he loved me." Georgiana was not about to admit she had practically propositioned the man. "And he asked me to marry him again, and I said yes because I knew he loved me."

"You mean he did not say it?" Anne looked aghast.

"No, he said it. But I knew he meant it. There is a difference, you know."

"All too well," Cordelia said, wrinkling her nose. "If I had a pound for every suitor who claimed he loved me, I would not need my dowry. But if I had a pound for every one of them who actually meant it, I would have exactly one pound."

"One pound is all you need in such cases," Georgiana said. "And not to get off the topic, but has that pound proposed yet?"

"Not yet," Cordelia said, disgruntled. "I think he is still waiting for a certain someone whose name I shall not mention--that would be you, Annie--to get married already."

"I am doing my very best to correct my unmarried state," Anne replied primly. "But he could propose to you regardless of whether or not I am married. The only thing you would have to do is wait to be married--or perhaps we could be married at the same time!"

"Now that is an idea," Georgiana agreed. "Have you considered asking your father about that?"

"I would--if he would ask me to marry him. That is the catch, you see. I think he has come close several times, but as of yet, Jason has not actually asked the important question."

Sensing that this lack of tangible proof bothered Cordelia, Georgiana took hold of her hand. "I think he may be waiting for the right setting," she said. "He has waited a long time for you, Del. I doubt he would give up right as he is about to achieve his goal."

"That must be it," Anne agreed. "Perhaps he is waiting for the costume ball! What better place to propose to you but on the balcony?"

"This is true." Cordelia was mollified. "Speaking of the ball, have you decided what you are going as, Annie?"

"Uncle Matlock did not like my idea, so I am toying with the idea of going as myself."

"But that is no fun!" Cordelia protested. "Going as yourself?"

"Well, I did debate dressing as a witch. That is, after all, how most people see me. Yes," Anne mused, beginning to think it a good idea, "perhaps something out of Macbeth. We could go as the three witches!"

"I think Lysander said something about wanting to go as Henry VIII, with me as Jane Seymour."

"He is not big enough for that," Anne said with a chuckle. "And speaking of Lysander, you did not finish the story of your elopement."

"There is very little left to tell. He did not want to wait, and neither did I. So I left the house on the pretext of a dressmaker's appointment and the two of us left town."

"But what about the ceremony?" Cordelia cried. "Surely there was more to it than that!"

Georgiana shook her head. "We were married by this lovely little man in Gretna Green. I was rather surprised, because I had heard stories from people who have been married there and many of them did not sound nice. But it was perfect. After we married, we travelled until we came to this inn and...well, the rest of it does not matter."

Anne gave Georgiana a look and wished she had the courage to ask more about what had happened after she had married. Perhaps if Cordelia were interested in finding out as well...

"I am so happy for you, Georgie," Cordelia was saying, which made Anne blush for clearly she had not thought of asking anything about the marriage bed.

"Thank you, Del."

"Now, about Mama's costume ball, you must reconsider Anne's idea."

"Del, do you really want to go as a witch?" Georgiana asked. "You would have to look ugly."

"Oh." Cordelia clearly had not thought about this. "You are right. Heavens, what if I go as a witch and Jason chooses that time to propose? I would be mortified!"

"What about you, Anne? Your engagement is to be announced. Do you really want to go as a witch?"

"Well, it would be symbolic," Anne argued weakly.

"Right."

"What idea do you have, then? That we all go as wives of Henry VIII? Sir Lysander would probably be amused, but I doubt the marquis or Robin would be."

"We do not have to dress as the same thing, or even the same idea. I do not mind the idea of going as Jane Seymour, although I do not think she had red hair."

"I have it!" Cordelia exclaimed. "Annie, we could go as twins! Perhaps even triplets, if Georgie would go along with the idea."

"I am not certain I get the idea," Anne said.

"The three of us look a good deal alike. Everyone always says that."

"Not enough alike to pass for triplets," Georgiana replied. "Perhaps you and Anne could get away with twins. You two have looked like sisters for years. I shall stick with Queen Jane."

"Very well," Cordelia agreed reluctantly. "But what do you think, Annie?"

"We may look alike, Del, but not enough for twins. My hair is a darker red than yours."

"We can wear wigs. We are the same height, with similar figures and identical complexions. I think if we cover our hair, we could pass for twins."

"And our eyes?"

"Who looks at eyes, really? The illusion that we are identical, coupled with whatever period costumes we decide upon, should make people think we are alike. I think the Elizabethan era is a good period, and we would have something similar to Georgie."

Anne pondered the idea for a while. She did not know what Robin would think of the idea, given everything that had happened over the course of their courtship. And to be honest, she feared that perhaps he might not recognize her, either, and would be wanting to dance with Cordelia all evening, misidentifying her as Anne.

"Please, Annie? Please? I want to do something unique, and as everyone will be dressing as their favourite person from history, dressing as twins should be something different."

Anne had almost never been able to turn her cousin down. "Oh, all right," she said, dismissing her fears as nothing. Robin had known her before he had even seen her all those months ago. She had nothing to fear. "We shall go as the Elizabethan twins."

Cordelia squealed and threw her arms around Anne. Anne returned the hug and looked over her shoulder at Georgiana, who smiled.

Lord Geoffrey Halliday, Earl of Hemmings, made an imposing figure. He had married a lovely young heiress at twenty, become the proud father of his heir at twenty-two and at forty-two the surprised father of twin daughters. He had several well-tended estates scattered throughout England, although he called his ancestral seat, Elsinore Manor, home. His wife, Lady Emily Halliday, was just as lovely as she was at eighteen when he married her, and she made a loving home for their two remaining children. Now at fifty-six, his primary business was to see his only son married and with that goal in mind had given several dinner parties such as the one being held this particular evening.

Despite all his best efforts, however, his only son and heir was being stubborn about marrying and doing his duty by the title. He would say trifling things like wanting to wait for the right girl to come along, or he would quip that too many women would be crushed if he married one of them. He would say that he was waiting until his friends married so that they would not feel left out.

"Do you want to see your sniveling spendthrift of a cousin one day become the Earl of Hemmings?" the earl would roar in frustration.

"I shall marry someday, Father. When I am ready," Rupert would reply, thus ending the conversation.

This Season, however, something was wrong. In the past, when Lord Geoffrey would arrange these parties, Rupert would roll his eyes at his father but would enjoy himself. He would flirt with a number of young women, which would have delighted his father if it had fooled him into thinking he was seriously considering marriage.

Now, more often than not, Rupert could be found in the card room, where to his father's great dismay he was gaining a reputation as a gamester. Lord Geoffrey had known that even as a child Rupert had great mathematical skill, but he had always hoped the boy would grow up to do something more useful than win at cards with it. More troubling than that was the fact that Rupert rarely came out to dance with anyone, nor did he flirt. It was as though something had broken inside of him.

And that troubled his father more than anything else.

Rupert strolled into his father's house the evening of the ball looking more miserable than ever. Lord Geoffrey saw him and frowned. "Rupert?" he called from the stairs. "Might I have a word with you?"

Rupert groaned audibly. "Father, if it is another discussion about when I am going to marry--"

"Am I not allowed to talk to my son?"

Rupert knew he was not getting out of this. He slowly made his way up the stairs and into his father's second-floor library. His father shut the door behind him.

"It has been a while since we have talked," Lord Geoffrey said, seating himself at his desk. Rupert had no choice but to take the rather uncomfortable chair across from him.

"I think that is because I have grown weary of hearing the same refrain," Rupert replied. "Might I have a glass of port?"

"Of course. Help yourself, son."

Rupert rose and helped himself to a healthy glass of port. He drank half of it before seating himself again, causing his father further worry. Rupert was not a heavy drinker, but Lord Geoffrey had noticed lately that he had been drinking more than usual.

"What is bothering you, Rupert?" Lord Geoffrey asked quietly.

"Nothing."

"You are drinking too much, playing cards too often---"

"Has Mr. Trent been complaining again? I told him if he did not have the blunt he should not play."

"Rupert, you are my son. I worry about you. What is wrong?"

"Would you like to know what is wrong with me? I have to endure these ridiculous parties when I had no interest in marrying any of those insipid misses with the false smiles and promises and pushy mothers. And those who are not like that are too smart, with their sharp wits and their smug belief that they know everything."

"It is a woman problem," Lord Geoffrey said with the wisdom of his years.

"Of course it is a woman problem. What else could give a man problems but a woman? She loves another, and she intends to marry him as soon as..." Rupert hesitated. He did not wish to tell his father about Cordelia. He had been amazed his father had not been able to winkle it out of him to this point.

"As soon as she can snare him?" Lord Geoffrey finished.

Rupert nodded but did not meet his father's eyes, and Lord Geoffrey knew he was lying. There was something more to it.

"Is she going to be here tonight?"

"Every eligible maiden in the land is going to be here tonight. Aren't they always?" Rupert asked with a cynicism that would have made Lysander proud.

"I just want to see you settled down. I am not getting any younger, you know. Nor is your mother."

"I was right--it is yet another lecture about my responsibilities and duties to the title. And telling me that you are getting older is rather trite, Father. I am well aware of your mortality."

"I do not think only of my own mortality, Rupert. I think of how content you would be if you were to settle--"

"--If I were to settle down with the right woman. Suppose I fell in love with the wrong woman? Suppose I fall in love with a servant's daughter, like Fitzwilliam Darcy did? Would you disown me?"

"If you truly loved the woman, I would welcome her with open arms. I just want you to be happy. That is all I have ever wanted for you."

Rupert sighed. "I know, and I love you for it, Father. But right now, it does not seem as though I am destined to be happy. And what I should do, if I were sensible, is attend this party tonight and truly concentrate on finding myself a wife. I probably shall never love her, but I can admire and respect her. Perhaps that is best."

"That is not what I meant--"

"But that is all I can expect. The woman I love is to marry another."

Lord Geoffrey thought on the matter. "It is Miss Anne de Bourgh, isn't it? She is the woman of whom you speak?"

"No," Rupert said calmly. "I admire Miss de Bourgh, but I have never loved her. It is another, and I would appreciate it if you would cease prying into the matter."

With a heavy sigh, Lord Geoffrey said, "Very well. I shall plague you no further, but Rupert, if you do marry for like alone, I shall be greatly disappointed in you. I would not wish a loveless marriage on any of my children. You should be as fortunate as your parents were in their marriage, and I believe someday you shall be."

"I wish I had your confidence in the matter," Rupert replied as he finished his port before leaving the library.

The earl's party was, as usual, a success. He was well-known for his generosity and hospitality, and they were in abundance this evening. There were plenty of pretty young women around, and more than enough men for them to dance with. The earl always made certain that the number of men and women were as equal as possible, so that no lady ever felt slighted by the lack of a partner. It did happen, of course, but he tried to prevent it whenever he could.

Halfway through the evening, a young woman dressed in a heavenly silver gown hurried away from the dance floor, hoping that no one had seen her departure. For what she was about to discuss, she needed absolute privacy. The only place to get it was the balcony.

She was grateful for the heat of the ballroom at her back and the gloves on her hands, which otherwise would have betrayed her nervousness at this clandestine meeting. She had been feeling a deep chill every since she had written the note, her fears that he would not meet her alternating with her fears that he would. Still, the note had been sent and it was too late to turn back now. She knew what she wanted to do and he was the key to helping her.

"Lady Cordelia?"

She had become so lost in her thoughts that she had not noticed him already waiting for her. His back had been turned to her.

"I am...am...glad you were willing to meet with me," she said softly. "But we must keep secret, for I wish no one to know of what we speak."

"I suspected you wished for privacy. Unfortunately, this balcony is about all we can afford, Lady Cordelia," he said.

"I suppose it shall do."

"You said in your note that you wished to speak to me on a matter of some urgence involving your cousin."

"Yes." Cordelia bit her lip, wondering if she could dare continue and say what she needed to say. "I need your help."

He smiled. It was a surprisingly nice smile, she thought. "I am at your service if you are about to suggest what I think you are."

Cordelia opened her mouth to scold him for his rude presumption, a part of her wanting to tell him he was wrong, that she was in no way going to be obliged to him, even though he was the key to her getting what she wanted.

She surprised herself by speaking part of what she was thinking. "What makes you think you know of my suffering?" she demanded. "What makes you think you know what I am going to ask you this evening?"

"Because, my lady, I have seen your eyes follow that man about a ballroom even though half of London claims you're about to become engaged to Wakefield. And every time you see him with your cousin, it is clear that you would like nothing better than to tear her heart out." The cold eyes of Evan Brixton pierced through her as though he could see right to her soul.

"I had not realized I was still acting in such an obvious manner," she said quietly.

"Oh, I would say that you are able to hide it well from Anne. I have seen no marked change in her behaviour toward you."

Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief that she had managed to fool Anne into thinking she had forgotten Robin.

It had been a great struggle, over the past several weeks, to keep herself calm around her cousin. Oh, in the beginning it had been easy. She had bided her time, waiting for an opportunity to come between Anne and Lord Robin. She had expected Anne to do something to mess up the courtship. She still had not given up hope that Lord Robin would come to his senses and realize that he was truly in love with her. But then came the day when she had spied Anne and Lord Robin walking up to the house, Lord Robin looking confident, Anne looking dazed.

And that night, her father had announced their engagement.

Cordelia had wanted to stab Anne with a dull knife over and over again, but managed to control herself and pretend she was pleased with Anne's happiness. Anne was so happy, and she would not shut up about it! Every other word out of her mouth was "Robin," and everything she did was working toward the day she married him.

Cordelia could not let that happen. No one could marry Lord Robin but herself. She was the woman he loved. She was the person who would make him happy.

Not Anne.

Which was why she had dared to write Lord Cassel a note, asking him to see her on an urgent matter concerning her cousin.

She did not think about Georgiana's story of the girl Sir Lysander had once loved. She could not think of it, for if she did she might lose her courage and she needed this man's help to see her plan through. After all, it was not as if she were the one planning to marry him.

"I want you to marry Anne...because I wish to marry Lord Robin."

Lord Cassel nodded. "Then I was right."

"You were."

"Do you have a plan to ensure I marry your cousin? I have asked her to marry me several times and she has refused. Now, I understand that she is to marry Hamilton." Lord Cassel said the name as if it were a curse.

"Of course I have a plan," Cordelia said smugly. "At my mother's costume ball next week, Anne and I are going to dress as identical twins. I have managed to convince her that it shall be an original idea."

"But you do not look all that much alike."

"We shall if we wear identical wigs, dress alike and act alike. I guarantee that no one shall be able to tell us apart. May I continue to tell you of my plan or are you uninterested in hearing it?"

He bowed mockingly. "By all means, continue."

"I shall send Lord Robin a note, supposedly from Anne, asking him to meet her on the balcony. I shall also send notes to my father and Miss Rose Cavendish, who can be counted upon not to keep any sort of gossip to herself. When Lord Robin arrives, I shall immediately start to kiss him. Hopefully, he shall be distracted enough that he shall not know or care that I am not Anne. And by the time he realizes his mistake, if he cares, my father and Miss Cavendish shall see us. Since we shall be caught in a compromising position, my father will insist on our marriage. Anything else will ruin me. Lord Robin is too honourable to refuse."

"That takes care of your problem," Lord Cassel hissed, "but it does not take care of mine."

"To be sure Anne does not interfere at the crucial time--and to ensure that Lord Robin does not see her and ask about the note--I shall arrange for someone to send her a note from me, asking to meet in the conservatory. You shall be there instead to whisk her away. You can marry her then, and we shall both be happy."

Cordelia smiled coldly. "Although I do wish she could be present to witness Lord Robin agreeing to marry me. After all the misery that witch has put me through, it would serve her right to see the man she stole away from me agreeing to marry me."

"That is my future wife of which you speak," Lord Cassel snapped. "Any insult to her--"

"Do not attempt to deny that you do not like Anne any more than I do now. The only reason you must marry her is because the Duke of Dorchester paid you ten thousand pounds to do so."

His mouth gaped. "Where on earth did you hear that?"

"It is true, is it not? Dorchester honestly thought if Anne were out of the way I would agree to marry him." Cordelia snorted. "As if I would marry such an old man."

"He felt your father would agree to the match, giving you no say in the matter," Lord Cassel said out of loyalty. "He is not so bad."

"He paid a man to marry one woman so he could trap her cousin into marriage."

"As you are attempting to come between Anne and Hamilton, you are hardly in a position to be so judgmental."

Cordelia bristled.

"But you are correct. I do not particularly care for your cousin. She is shrewish, and I despise shrewish women. However, there are some rather fascinating things about her."

"Such as her fortune and estate."

"And that fire. She is a spirited young woman, and I imagine she shall be quite challenging to tame. She needs a man to teach her what it is to be a woman, and I have been eager to become that man."

"And so you shall, in a few short days' time," Cordelia said. "Now, this is the most important thing. My father intends to announce Anne's engagement at the supper, so be prepared to act soon after your arrival. If our plan is successful, the engagement being announced shall be mine."

Lord Cassel nodded his head, admiring the young woman who was so callously plotting the ruin of her cousin's happiness. He did not care, as long as he benefited from it.

"Do you know what disguise Hamilton shall be wearing?" he asked. "It might make things easier if Anne thinks I am him."

Cordelia gave him an assessing look and thought him mad to believe he could remotely think anyone would mistake him for Lord Robin. "I believe he is going costumed as Henry V," she replied.

The man nodded. "Then shall we shake hands to seal this deal?" he asked.

"By all means." Cordelia did not give Anne another thought as she took his hand in hers and shook it firmly.

She was going to be happy, and heaven help anyone who stepped in her way. "I shall see you on Thursday," she said. "And now, if would excuse me, I must return to the ballroom before someone notices I am missing."

"Just one question, Lady Cordelia," Lord Cassel said, stopping her.

"Yes?" she asked, slightly annoyed. She did not wish to spend any more time with this man than necessary.

"Have you planning this all along? Is Wakefield in on the deception?"

"Worried that someone else might know about this plan?" she asked

"I just prefer knowing all the players before entering the game," Lord Cassel replied.

Cordelia had to concede that he was being prudent. "Jason Siddens is a fool," she said. "He is blinded by a pretty face and pleasing figure and sees no more to a woman than that. He cannot comprehend the fact that a woman might have a mind. He sees me as a beautiful ornament and that is all. And to answer your question, he knows nothing about this. No one does."

Lady Cordelia and Lord Cassel drifted away from the balcony moments later, taking care that no one thought they had been together. They both thought they had been alone, talking unguardedly to each other. What neither of them had bothered to notice was the figure standing under the balcony, able to hear every word they said.

He had heard the words which had driven the final stakes through his already broken heart.

Rupert Halliday had loved Lady Cordelia. He had thought so, anyway. But the woman he thought he knew and loved was a completely different creature than the cold, calculating woman who would consign her own cousin to a life of hell. Perhaps she did not know the full history of Evan Brixton, but Anne had made her dislike of the man more than clear in the past. That Cordelia would even consider doing this, much less actually going through with it...

He loved her, and he had been deceived as surely as Lord Jason had been deceived. Rupert's only consolation was that no one save his two friends was aware of his true feelings for Cordelia Fitzwilliam. Everyone knew how besotted Wakefield was with her. He was the one who would look like a fool when Cordelia forced Robin to marry her.

When? You cannot let this happen. You must stop it.

But the part of him that still clung to his love for her, the part that wanted to deny what he had heard, told him that if she loved Robin so dearly, she should have him. He loved her enough that he should want to ensure her happiness, and marrying Robin would make Cordelia happy.

And it would make him miserable. He could not help her, but he did not think he could stop her, either. Although she did not know it, Cordelia Fitzwilliam had him under her thumb. He knew what she was about to do and he was powerless to stop it.

That horrifying realization shattered his soul.

With a resoluteness and quiet dignity, he walked back inside, where there were several young women waiting to greet him. In the past, Rupert could have charmed these ladies into confessing any number of silly secrets, but not one of them would have ever thought of him as anything more than a confidante.

Always a friend, never a lover. Not even to Lady Cordelia.

Rupert smiled politely, the smile never reaching his eyes. He avoided his father's worried gaze, for he knew his father was about to become gravely disappointed in him.

I suppose it is the way things have always been. I have not been the heir my father wished. Perhaps Cousin Clarke will mend his ways and be what my father wants.

Before Rupert realized where he was going, he had reached the balcony where not ten minutes earlier Lady Cordelia had been talking to Brixton about Anne's future.

You are no sort of a man to let such a thing happen to two of your best friends. You should stop her.

But I...I can't.

Rupert looked down at the ground. It seemed so far away from where he was. With his luck, he would do this and live, and suffer to see Anne and Robin suffering. Perhaps he could give them a warning, tell them not to leave each other's side the entire evening. Perhaps he could be the one waiting for Lady Cordelia when she arrived.

His heart flickered for a moment at that idea, thinking it grand, but he realized that she would be just as miserable if she were forced to marry him and he did not think he could bear it.

He looked down again. Surely, if he were to fall from such a distance, he could end all his suffering.

"Don't do it," a voice said behind him.

Rupert whirled around to see Cordelia standing there. She looked so lovely and young and innocent in her cream-coloured gown, her reddish-blond hair looking as though any moment it were going to slip free from its' combs, her blue eyes peering at him nervously behind gold-rimmed spectacles...no, her eyes looked more violet than blue...

Spectacles? Lady Cordelia did not wear spectacles. But this vision looked so much like Lady Cordelia that it must be her.

"Don't do it," the girl repeated.

"Go away," he said quietly, not wishing to draw attention to himself. "You understand nothing."

"I understand everything," she said. "I am Lady Ariel Fitzwilliam. Cordelia is my older sister."

"What makes you think this has to do with your sister?"

"Because I heard her talking with that awful Lord Cassel on the balcony. I know you were listening to them. And I know you love her."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"The same way Lord Cassel knew Del loved Lord Robin. It is in your eyes. And I recognize it in myself."

"You are in love?" Rupert asked doubtfully.

"Yes, I am. And like you, the person I love is in love with someone else."

"Are you not a bit young to be in love?"

Lady Ariel shook her head. "Love knows no age. And apparently no reason, if Cordelia is the reason you plan to jump over this balcony."

"What makes you think I was about to do that?" he demanded.

"You were looking like a man who has no reason to live. You were looking down at the ground as though you were welcoming the jump. And...well, you were talking to yourself."

Rupert was grateful that it was dark on the balcony, for his face flamed. "All the way through the ballroom?"

"Oh, no. Just out here."

"Thank heaven for that."

"Was Del the reason you were going to jump?"

Rupert frowned at her. "Has anyone ever told you that you are far too inquisitive for a child?"

This seemed to rankle her. "I am nearly sixteen years old, Lord Rupert. I shall soon be making my own debut, though hopefully I shall be much nicer than my sister. I would never steal a man from someone, and especially not from my own cousin."

"That is good to hear."

"Thank you." She bowed. "Why were you going to jump?"

Rupert sighed. This girl was not going to go away. If he jumped, she would probably be waiting for him at the bottom to ask him more questions.

"Because I heard that plot and I know I can do nothing to stop it. I love your sister and I want her to be happy."

"You sound even more blind than she said Lord Jason was."

"Maybe, but I still cannot do it."

"Then do not worry. I shall do it for you. Annie will listen to me, and so will Lord Robin. He likes me. If I tell them that Del is plotting, they shall believe me." She shrugged. "So you can live."

"I should care enough about Anne and Robin to do it myself."

"Then we can do it together. That way they cannot deny it."

"It is not as simple as that. Do you not see? I should be able to do it, but I cannot. I am not a man."

"Oh, for heaven's sake! That is the dumbest thing I have heard in my life, and believe me, living with Cordelia I have heard some fairly dumb things. Why are people in love so melodramatic?"

"You said you were in love. Are you melodramatic?"

"Of course not. I am a sensible, rational person. I wish to continue being a sensible, rational person. I love this man, but I refuse to let my love for him cloud my judgment or reason. If he were plotting as Del is, I would tell someone."

"That is the difference between you and me." Rupert turned away and looked out at the ground again.

"I think you can do it."

That stopped him. Rupert turned back to face her. "Why do you think that?"

"Because you are a good person. You're just afraid that if you do it, the plot will become real. Any illusion you had of what Del is like will be gone forever. You know the truth about her but you refuse to face it. You are afraid to face it." Lady Ariel took a step forward. "But if you would think about it, you have known in your heart all along what she is."

"No. I thought she was an angel." Rupert sighed. "She is everything I want in a woman. She is beautiful, talented, charming, elegant. She is what a man dreams of finding in a wife."

Lady Ariel snorted. "She is hardly that. No woman is, and if you continue to think of us as such then you shall never be happy, for your future wife shall disappoint you severely."

Rupert glared at her. "I do not think I like you very much."

She shrugged. "Just as well. I was thinking the same thing about you. I thought you were the nicest of your friends, and perhaps the most sensible. I suppose I was wrong."

"You speak your mind very decidedly for one so young."

"I have opinions, Lord Rupert, which I wish to keep."

"Tell me this--is the man you love in love with someone like Cordelia?"

"Yes, very much like her. Vain and vapid, and extremely spoilt."

"Or beautiful and charming, elegant and talented."

"It depends on how you look at the situation. I prefer my version."

"How on earth do you ever intend to catch a husband?" he asked, a bit dazed.

"The same way Anne did. By being stubborn and bad-tempered. If a man loved me knowing my true self, then he would love me forever." She blinked several times. "I suppose I should be quite put out by your asking me that question. It was rather rude. After all, you never know. You could be my husband one day."

Rupert nearly laughed. The idea of being this impertinent child's husband one day was laughable. He knew what he wanted in a wife, and she was far from it. However, he remembered the vanity of the young and did not wish to bruise her feelings, so he said, "I am too old for you, Lady Arianne."

"Lady Ariel," she corrected. "My name is Ariel."

"Forgive me, Lady Ariel. I have sisters a mere two years younger than you. The idea of your marrying me is almost laughable."

Her eyes narrowed. "You never did ask me who it was I was in love with."

Rupert looked at her. If she had been a bird, her feathers would have been ruffled. "I did not ask because I already knew. You are in love with Wakefield."

Lady Ariel seemed surprised. "No, I do not love him at all," she said. Her violet eyes met his and did not waver. "I love you."

And before he could stop her, she had crossed the distance between them, raised herself on tiptoe, and kissed him. It was a very quick, inexperienced kiss, and before he could react she had stepped back.

"My name is Ariel Jade Fitzwilliam," she said. "Do not forget it, because one day you shall say it exactly--on the day you marry me."

And with that, she was gone.

Rupert grabbed hold of the balcony top as if it were the lifeline keeping him alive. He had had one too many shocks this evening to take them all in.

He could honestly swear that he had barely known of Lady Ariel Fitzwilliam's existence until twenty minutes ago, and yet she was in love with him.

And was bold enough to kiss him and tell him she intended to marry him one day.

Is there some sort of insanity that runs in that family? First Cordelia schemes to marry Lord Robin, now this girl vows she is going to marry me?

Of their own volition, his fingers brushed his lips. It was a little girl's kiss she had given him, and he would be a lecher to be thinking of it in any way other than that. It was a foolish girl who had said she planned to marry him one day.

However, it was a sensible girl who had taken his mind off of his prior intentions and challenged him to tell two of his dearest friends the truth about Cordelia. And as Rupert walked away from the balcony, he realized that somewhere down the road, he was going to have to thank Lady Ariel for what she had done. He was going to tell Anne and Robin what Cordelia had planned for them, and let them deal with the matter as they may. He had Lady Ariel to thank for that.

But that did not mean he was going to marry her.

Continued In Next Section