lex stood in front of the Blydon mansion staring at the servants' entrance. He'd seen a look of sheer panic in Meg's eyes before he'd agreed not to accompany her inside. He scowled, worried that she might be punished for returning so late from the market. Although he'd met the earl and countess of Worth on several occasions, when it came right down to it, he didn't know much about them. He had no idea what kind of household they ran. Some of the ton treated their servants abominably.

And although he refused to believe he felt anything other than lust for Meg, he was terrified that she might be turned out or beaten. He had a strong urge to march right into the Blydon kitchen and make sure that Meg was being treated like the

heroine she was. Alex sighed, slightly irritated at the extent of his concern. He wasn't at all sure that she'd completely recovered from her fall. All he really wanted to do at that moment was take Meg into his arms, carry her up to her room and tuck her into bed with a nice cold compress on her head. He groaned at the vision he was painting in his mind. If he managed to get her tucked into bed, he doubted that he'd be able to stop himself from climbing in beside her.

"Alex!" Sophie poked her head out of the carriage. "What are you waiting for?"

Alex tore his gaze away from the mansion. "Nothing, Soph, nothing at all. I'm just a little concerned about Meg. Do you

suppose she'll be all right? What kind of people are the earl and countess of Worth?"

"Oh, they're lovely. I've met them several times at parties."

"So have I, brat, but that doesn't make them paragons of virtue."

Sophie sighed and rolled her eyes. "If you ever spent more than one minute at the parties that Mama and I force you to attend, you'd know that the Blydons are simply wonderful. They're very kind and not at all stuffy. Mama is extremely fond of Lady Caroline. I think they have tea together at least once a fortnight. I don't think we have to worry about Meg now that we know she works here. I cannot imagine Lady Caroline allowing anyone to be mistreated in her home."

"I hope you're right. We owe Meg a great deal. It's the least we can do to see to her welfare."

"Don't think I don't know it, dear brother. I intend to call on Lady Caroline this week to tell her how Meg saved Charlie.

I am certain that she will not allow such bravery to go unrewarded."

Alex climbed into the carriage and sat back into its plush seat as the wheels started rolling. "That's a good idea, Sophie."

"I'd go tonight, of course, but I really don't feel up to it."

"What do you mean you'd go tonight?"

"Really, Alex, you must keep track of things. Lady Caroline is throwing a huge bash tonight. I'm sure you were invited. You're always invited to everything even though you never go. If you don't start—"

"Spare me the you'll-never-meet-a-nice-marriage-able-female-and-produce-an-heir lecture, please. I've heard it before, and I'm not interested."

Sophie shot him an irritated glance. "Well, it's true, and you know as well as I that you cannot remain a bachelor forever.

All you do is carouse with your friends, and they're just as roguish as you are."

Alex grinned rakishly. "Really, Soph, it's not as if I'm lacking for female companionship."

"Oooooh!" Sophie spluttered. "You say these things just to annoy me. I know you do. Those women are hardly worth

mentioning in my presence."

"Those women, as you so delicately put it, want nothing from me other than a few baubles, which is exactly why I choose

to share my bed with them. They, at least, are honest about their materialistic desires."

"There you go again! You know that I hate to hear about your torrid affairs. I swear, Alex, I'm going to box your ears."

"Cease the histrionics, Sophie. We both know that you love to hear about my so-called torrid affairs. You're just too prudish

and proper to admit it."

Sophie slumped in defeat as Alex arrogantly lifted one eyebrow. He was absolutely right. She loved hearing about his adventures—amorous or otherwise. She just didn't want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Besides, how was she

to keep up her crusade to get him married if he knew how fascinating she found his lifestyle? Still, she made one last attempt. "You know you're going to need an heir, Alex."

Alex leaned toward his sister and smiled at her wickedly. "I would imagine that I'll be physically able to sire a son ten or

even fifteen years from now. But if you'd like, I'd be happy to give you the name and address of my most recent mistress.

I'm sure she can vouch for my virility."

"Mama, what's virility?" Charlie piped up.

"Nothing you need to worry about for many years." Sophie said breezily. And then in hushed tones: "Alex, I swear you've

got to watch what you say around him. He absolutely idolizes you. As it is, he's probably going to be telling all our maids

about his virility for the next month."

Alex laughed. "All right, brat, I'll watch my speech, if only to protect your maids from falling prey to his lustful desires.

Now, will you just be a good girl and tell me about this ball tonight?"

Sophie arched her eyebrows. "Suddenly interested in the social scene, are we?"

"I just want to check up on Meg. I'll go for my usual fifteen minutes and then leave."

"Lady Caroline wants to introduce her American niece to society," Sophie explained. "I hear it's to be a grand affair."

"Then why aren't you going?"

"I just don't feel like going out with Oliver away, and," she smiled shyly and patted her stomach, "I'm expecting again."

"Never say it, brat! That's wonderful!" Alex smiled broadly and swept his sister into an affectionate hug. As dead-set as

Alex was against marriage and children for himself, he did love spending time with Charlie and was thrilled at the prospect of another nephew or niece. "Ah, here we are," he said as the carriage came to a stop in front of Sophie's home. "Take

care now, sister. Don't overexert yourself." He kissed Sophie on the cheek and patted her hand.

Sophie took Alex's hand as he helped her out of the carriage. "Really, Alex, I'm not even showing yet. I hardly think I need to take to my bed."

"Of course, dear, but you should be careful. Riding in the park is definitely out of the question."

Sophie smiled at her brother's concern. "For all your rakish ways, Alex, you really are an exemplary uncle. Just look at

how Charlie adores you."

Alex glanced down at the boy. Sure enough, he was tugging on his coat, begging him to come inside and play. Alex tousled

his hair. "Another time, scamp. I promise."

"You know, Alex," Sophie began, "I just know you'd make an excellent husband and father, too, if you'd just take the time to look for the right woman."

Alex crossed his arms. "Don't start with me now. I've had enough lecturing for one day. Besides I've got this damned ball to

get ready for." With a wave, he climbed back into the carriage, instructing his driver to take him back to his bachelor's residence.

Sophie waved back, standing on her doorstep, holding Charlie's hand. At least he was going to the party tonight. That was a

start. With luck, he'd meet someone suitable.

* * *

When Emma opened her eyes again, she was lying atop her bed. The pain in her head had diminished appreciably, but a

new ache in her hip more than made up for the loss. Belle was curled up with a leather-bound book in a nearby chair.

"Oh, hello," Belle chirped as soon as she noticed that Emma was awake. "You gave us quite a fright." She got up, crossed

the short distance to her cousin, and perched on the end of the bed.

Emma scooted up into a reclining position so that she could see Belle a little better. "What happened?"

"You fainted."

"Again?"

"Again!"

"Well, I didn't exactly faint the first time. It was more like a blow to the head."

"What!?"

"Well, not really a blow to the head," Emma hastily amended. "I fell, and then I hit my head."

"Oh my," Belle breathed. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," Emma replied, gingerly rubbing the fast-growing lump above her right ear. "How did I get up here? The last

I remember, I was in the kitchen."

"I carried you."

"You carried me up four flights of stairs?"

"Well, Cook helped."

"Oh, God." Emma grimaced at the thought of Cook having to lug her up four flights of stairs. "How embarrassing."

"And Mary and Susie," Belle added.

Utterly mortified, Emma sank back into the bed as if trying to disappear among the voluminous quilts.

"Actually, it wasn't very difficult at all," Belle continued, oblivious to Emma's distress. "First we wrapped you in a blanket.

Then I grabbed your shoulders, Cook took your feet, and Mary and Susie spaced themselves out between us."

"And I didn't wake up?"

"You did make a few odd noises when we rounded the corner on the second landing, but no, you were most definitely unconscious."

"Odd noises?"

Belle's expression turned sheepish. "Well, actually it might have had something to do with the fact that you crashed into

the endpost when we turned the corner."

Emma's eyes opened wide, and her gaze flew down to the sore spot on her right hip that she'd been rubbing absently.

Belle smiled wanly. "It could very well have been your hip that hit the endpost. I seem to recall we clipped you somewhere

in the middle."

Suddenly a dreadful thought entered Emma's mind. "What about your mother?"

"None of us exactly told her what happened." Belle hedged.

"But she must have heard the commotion."

"Yes, well, she did seek me out once we got you up here."

"And?" Emma prodded.

"I told her you swooned."

"Swooned?" Emma's eyes widened in disbelief.

Belle nodded. "From the excitement of your first big ball and all that."

"But that's ridiculous! I never swoon!"

"I know."

"Aunt Caroline knows I never swoon!"

"I know. You're not exactly the swooning type."

"She didn't actually believe you, did she?"

"Not for one second," Belle quipped, tapping her slender fingers on her book. "But Mother can be marvelously tactful

sometimes, and so she left it at that. As long as you appear at the ball tonight in good health and spirits, she won't say

a word. I'm sure of it."

Emma pulled herself up into a sitting position so that she could examine all her new aches and pains.

"What a ridiculous day," she sighed.

"Hmmm?" Belle looked up from her book, which she had started to read again. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing interesting."

"Oh." Belle glanced back at her book.

"What on earth are you reading?"

"All's Well that Ends Well. Shakespeare."

Emma felt compelled to defend her education. "I know who wrote it."

"Hmm? Yes, of course you do." Belle smiled absently. "I brought it in to read while waiting for you to wake up."

"Good grief. How long did you think I was going to be unconscious?"

"I had no idea, actually. I've never swooned before."

"I didn't swoon," Emma ground out between clenched teeth.

"So you say."

Emma sighed as she looked up at her cousin's mock-innocent expression. "I suppose you want me to tell you what happened."

"Only if you want to." Belle reopened the leather-bound volume and began to read again. "I have all the time in the world,

you know," she added, looking back up at Emma. "I've decided to read the complete works of Shakespeare. I'm doing the

plays first, then poetry."

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. I'm going to do it in alphabetical order."

"Do you realize how long that is going to take?"

"Of course. But I figure that with the way you're going, I'll be spending plenty of time at your bedside."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"Who knows how soon you'll be unconscious again?"

"I can assure you I have no such plans for the immediate future."

Belle smiled sweetly. "I imagine you don't. But if you don't tell me what happened this afternoon, I might just knock you

out myself."

* * *

Many hours later, Emma sat at her dressing table wincing while Meg, her maid, fussed with her hair. Belle sat beside her, undergoing similar torture.

"I don't think you're telling me everything," Belle admonished.

"I told you," Emma sighed. "I fell down after I knocked the little boy out of the path of the hack. Then I hit my head."

"What about those earrings?"

"The boy's mother gave them to me. She thought I was a maid. I'm planning to call on her tomorrow to give them back.

How many times do you need to hear this?"

"I don't know." Belle narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I still think you're leaving something out."

"I saved the boy. I got the earrings. Period." Emma gave Belle a sharp nod for emphasis.

"Emma, you were gone for an hour! Something must have happened between the boy and the earrings!"

"I was unconscious, that's what happened! What do you think, I was ravished by some mysterious man?" Emma groaned

inwardly as she realized how close to the truth that speculation actually was. She felt a little guilty for not telling Belle about

her strange experience with the duke of Ashbourne. They usually told each other everything. But Emma felt strangely

possessive of her time with the duke, and she didn't feel like sharing her memory with anyone, not even Belle.

"Well, I think it's absolutely famous that it was the countess of Wilding who gave you those earrings," Belle chuckled,

amusement dancing in her bright blue eyes. "I know Sophie fairly well. She isn't very much older than we are. Mama and her mother are good friends. They'll all just scream when they hear what happened. Although perhaps we shouldn't say anything.

I don't think Mama would look favorably upon your going out alone dressed as a maid. Still, the situation is most amusing.

I can't believe Sophie gave you jewels to secure your future. Why, with your fortune, you could buy and sell us all."

"Hardly," Emma said dryly, pointedly glancing at the string of pearls draped around Belle's throat. "Besides, she did think

I was a maid."

"I know, I know. Still, it's just too funny. I do wish that Sophie were coming tonight. I'd love to see her face when she

walked into the ballroom and saw the 'scullery maid' decked out in all her finery."

"Really, Belle, that's positively cruel of you. The countess was very distraught this afternoon. She nearly lost her son."

"You're calling me cruel? You, the queen of all practical jokesters? The same girl who sent poor Ned a fake love note from Clarissa Trent?"

Emma tried to suppress a mischievous grin. "Really, it needn't have been such a big fuss."

"You're absolutely correct," Belle stated with noticeable sarcasm. "And it wouldn't have been, not if Ned hadn't been

hopelessly infatuated with the chit."

Emma looked away innocently. "Well, how was I to know that? I haven't made my debut yet, you know. I'm not privy

to the latest gossip."

"He only mentioned her name a hundred times a day."

Emma "humphed" and gave her cousin a supercilious look. "Really, it all worked out for the best. Now we all know what

a conniving little you-know-what Clarissa is. When it comes right down to it, I saved your brother from a terrible fate."

"I suppose," Belle conceded, "but Ned was so heartbroken when he professed his love for her, and she flatly stated she

was holding out for a duke with lots of money."

"I think he was more upset that she wasn't the paragon he'd imagined her to be than he was because she didn't return his

feelings. But enough of that. I've learned my lesson—no more interference in Ned's romantic life. Even if I am doing the

right thing. So tell me, why isn't Sophie coming tonight?"

"I'm not sure. Probably because her husband is away on business in the West Indies for a few months. I think she misses

him. It was a love match, you know." Belle sighed romantically.

"It's probably for the best—even if you do have to miss seeing her shocked face. She'd get the surprise of her life if she

saw me tonight. I'm sure it will be easier for everyone if I simply call on her tomorrow morning."

"You're probably right. Do say I can go with you, though. I so want to be there when she sees you."

"Fine, fine, of course you can—Ouch!" Emma hollered as Meg rugged on her hair a little too vigorously.

"Quit your complaining, Miss Emma," Meg scolded. "It takes hard work and a little bit of pain to be beautiful."

"Goodness! If it's going to require that much pain, I really don't need to be beautiful. Just leave my hair down. It's much

more comfortable that way."

Meg looked agonized. "I couldn't do that. It's not at all fashionable."

"Oh, all right, do whatever you like with it, Meg. Just try to keep the discomfort at a minimum."

Belle laughed. "Oh, Emma, I don't know how you're going to make it through an entire season."

"I don't know, either. I can never seem to remember how to be correct."

"Stop shaking your head!" Meg yelled. "Else we'll be here all night, and you'll miss the ball."

"With the way my head hurts, that wouldn't be such a bad thing," Emma muttered.

"Did you say something?" Belle asked absently.

"It was nothing." Emma didn't want Belle to know how large the lump on her head really was. Belle was sure to tell her

mother, and Emma knew that her aunt would be worried sick. The evening would be ruined unless she ignored the pain

and smiled her way through the party. "Why don't you tell me more about Sophie?" Emma said, just to make conversation.

"Sophie? She's a lovely person. Talks a lot, though."

Emma giggled. "I noticed."

"She and her husband are terribly devoted to one another. I know she just misses him dreadfully."

"Does she have any family?"

Belle arched her brows at Emma's interest.

"I just want to know how many people are going to know about my little escapade," Emma said hastily.

"One mother. One brother."

"Really?" Emma tried to sound casual, but her voice came out breathy and excited.

"Yes, I think he must be about nine-and-twenty now. He's absolutely beautiful, with thick black hair and the greenest eyes

you'll ever see."

Emma felt pangs of jealousy but quickly suppressed them. The man was an arrogant, overbearing boor, and she was sure

she wasn't interested in him in the least. It didn't matter if his kiss had been the most exciting thing that had happened since

she'd arrived in London. "You sound quite interested in him, Belle," she said cautiously.

"The duke of Ashbourne? You must be joking. He's a handsome rascal, but he is positively dangerous. He never consorts

with ladies, only women, if you know what I mean. Actually, I barely know him at all, but"—Belle leaned forward conspiratorially—"I've heard that he's left broken hearts all over England. And the Continent."

"He sounds quite interesting."

"Interesting, yes. Suitable, not at all. Mama and Papa would have a fit if I set my cap after him. He's a confirmed bachelor.

He won't marry for years. I'd bet my pearls on it. And when he does, it will be to some stupid little chit who can be easily managed and then ignored once she produces an heir."

"Oh." Emma wondered why she suddenly felt so depressed.

"He won't even come tonight. I'm sure of it. He's invited, of course. He gets invited to everything, but he never attends

unless his family absolutely forces him to. He's probably got scores of fancy mistresses tucked away all over London.

Besides, I'm sure you won't want to meet him. He wears a perpetual frown on his face and would probably bite your

head off if you said two words to him."

"Goodness, he's beginning to sound most unpleasant."

"Oh, I wouldn't call him exactly 'unpleasant.' Ned has only praise for him. They belong to the same club, you know. He

says that all of his friends look up to him. More likely they want to be him." Belle shrugged. "He's sinfully rich, you know,

and even more sinfully handsome. I think it's just that he so hates the social whirl—hasn't got the patience to pretend otherwise,

so he just scowls at anyone who doesn't interest him. Most of my friends are terrified of him—when they're not plotting out

how to get him to the marriage altar."

"He must be quite remarkable to wield such power," Emma commented.

"Oh, yes, it's really quite disgusting how he always gets his way. It seems that everyone panders to him."

"Why?"

"Well, there's his title for one thing; he is a duke, you know. And as I mentioned, he is exceedingly wealthy. But if you

saw him for yourself, you'd know what I meant. He positively exudes power. He's quite a specimen."

"Belle!" Emma laughed. "Your mama would swoon if she heard you talk this way."

"Mama swoons about as often as you do."

"Then she's due for a good fainting spell any minute now," Emma joked. But inside, she breathed a sigh of relief at Belle's assurance that Alex wouldn't attend her ball. Her head still ached, and she felt utterly exhausted. There was no way that

she'd pander to the arrogant duke, but with her injury, she just wasn't up for another round with him.