mma slunk along the side of the Lindworthys' home, muttering ungraciously to herself all the while.

"Of all the stupid things to do. Letting him drag me out of the ballroom into a deserted garden. I should have known

something like this was going to happen."

Emma paused, grudgingly admitting to herself that she'd most definitely enjoyed Alex's kiss.

"All right, so I liked it," she grumbled. "But where does this leave me now? I'm prowling around like a burglar, hoping to

find a side door that may or may not even exist. My slippers are getting wet, I've probably torn the hem of my dress on a rosebush, and he doesn't even have the least inclination to marry me."

Emma froze. Dear Lord, what had she just said? Thank goodness she had only been conversing with herself. Emma

shivered and pursed her lips.

"Banish that thought, Emma Elizabeth Dunster," she commanded, edging around the corner to the back of the mansion. She

didn't really want to marry Alex, did she? It was impossible. She'd always meant to go back to Boston and take over her father's company. When she got married, it would be to some nice American fellow who would be happy to run the company with her.

But what if she never found that nice American fellow? And was he really worth finding when she had a rather amazing British one right here, right now?

Emma sighed as the memory of Alex and their few stolen moments flooded her mind. It was time to be reasonable, she decided. Were there really any good reasons why she should even consider the idea of marrying Alexander Edward Ridgely, the oh-so-lofty duke of Ashbourne?

Well, for one thing, he was a superb kisser.

Besides that!

All right then, he never talked down to her. So many men of the ton talked to women as if they were some lower species

whose brains hadn't developed fully. Alex always treated her as if she were every bit as intelligent as he was.

Which she was, Emma silently declared with a nod of her head.

Also, she felt very comfortable in his presence. When they were together, she never felt as if she had to hide her true

personality under a sheer layer of artifice and illusion. He seemed to like her just the way she was.

Furthermore, he had a delicious sense of humor which was remarkably similar to her own. He certainly liked to tease her mercilessly, but he was never malicious, and he could take a joke as well as he could deliver one. Life with Alex certainly

would not be dull, she could count on that.

And, of course, he was a superb kisser.

Emma groaned as she practically fell through the side door. She was going to have to give this matter a little more thought.

* * *

Meanwhile, Alex had slipped back into the ballroom by way of the French doors and was doing his best to mingle graciously

with a bunch of people in whom he did not usually have very much interest. But he was eager to appear cool and calm in

case anyone had happened to notice his and Emma's rather hasty excursion into the garden.

He had just finished telling Lord Acton, a friend of his from White's, about a stallion he had recently purchased, when he

spied Sophie and his mother across the ballroom.

"Excuse me," he said smoothly. "I see that my mother and sister have arrived. I really must go greet them." Alex gave his

friend a nod and made his way through the crowd to his family.

Eugenia Ridgely, the dowager duchess of Ashbourne, was not an imposing figure. Indeed, she couldn't have been an imposing figure if she tried. Her green eyes sparkled warmly, and her lips always seemed to form a vibrant smile. Accompanying this friendly demeanor was a dry sense of humor which had made her one of the most well-loved members of the ton for years.

She'd been born the daughter of an earl and been exalted to the rank of duchess when she married Alex's and Sophie's father,

but she had never developed the snobbery that was so rampant among most of society. Her eyes lit up as she saw her son crossing the ballroom in her direction.

"Hello, Mother," Alex said fondly, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Ah, Alex," Eugenia said dryly. "What a pleasure it is to attend a function and actually see you in person." She held out

her cheek, dutifully waiting for his kiss.

It was easy to see where Alex had gotten his caustic tongue.

"Always a pleasure, Mother."

"I know it is, dear. Now where is that darling girl who has pulled you out of hiding?" She craned her neck, looking for

Emma's familiar red hair.

"Actually, I haven't seen her since I danced with her a half an hour ago."

"I saw her go out into the garden," Sophie said pointedly.

Alex shot her a dirty look. "I thought you were planning to retire from society."

Sophie beamed, smoothing her hands along her still-svelte figure. "Four months along, and I'm not showing yet. Isn't that lucky?"

"For you, perhaps. As for myself, I'm breathless in anticipation for the day you balloon to the size of a small heifer."

"You beast!" Sophie stomped on his foot.

Alex smiled wickedly. "Ah, my sweet bovine sister."

"Well, it is a pity that Emma isn't here," Eugenia said, pointedly ignoring her children's squabble. "I do so enjoy her company.

When did you say you were going to ask her to marry you, Alex?"

"I didn't."

"Hmmm, I could have sworn you mentioned something to me about it."

"That would have been my evil twin brother," Alex said flatly.

Eugenia chose to ignore his sarcasm. "Really, dear, you are simply an idiot if you let her get away."

"So you've mentioned."

"I'm still your mother, you know."

"Believe me, I know."

"You should listen to me. I know what is best for you."

Alex cracked a smile. "I believe that you believe you know what's best for me."

Eugenia scowled. "You are so difficult."

Sophie, who had been uncharacteristically silent, suddenly piped up. "I think you should leave him alone, Mother."

"Thank you," Alex said gratefully.

"After all, I don't think she'd have him even if he asked."

Alex bristled. Of course she'd— He smiled sweetly at his sister. "You're trying to goad me."

"Yes, I guess I am. Sisters are supposed to do that, you know."

"It's not working."

"Really? I rather thought it worked beautifully. Your jaw clenched magnificently when I said she didn't want you."

"Ah, I do so adore my family," Alex sighed.

"Cheer up, dear," the dowager smiled. "We're better than most, you know. Take my word for it."

"I shall," Alex said, leaning down to give her another affectionate peck on the cheek.

"Oh, look!" the dowager suddenly exclaimed, motioning toward the dance floor. 'There is your friend Dunford dancing with

Belle Blydon. Perhaps you should claim the next dance with her. She's a sweet girl, and I wouldn't want her to get upset if

she's left alone for the next dance."

Alex eyed his mother suspiciously. "Lady Arabella rarely lacks admirers."

"Yes, well, er, there's always a first time, and I would so hate to see her feelings hurt."

"You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you, Mother?"

"Yes, I am, and you're making it exceedingly difficult."

Alex sighed as he prepared to claim a dance with Belle. "Pray try not to plot my downfall in my absence."

When Alex was safely out of earshot, Eugenia turned to her daughter and said, "Sophie, we must act decisively."

"I agree completely," Sophie replied. "Except that I'm not exactly sure what kind of decisive move we need to make."

"I've given this matter considerable thought."

"I'm sure you have," Sophie murmured, her lips hinting at a smile.

Eugenia shot her a sharp look but ignored her statement. "I have concluded that what we need is a weekend in the country."

"What are you going to do? Force Alex to accompany you to Westonbirt and torture him until he agrees to ask Emma to

marry him?"

"Nonsense. We'll ask the Blydons to join us. And of course we will insist that they bring their darling niece."

"It's brilliant!" Sophie exclaimed.

"And then we'll contrive to leave them alone on every possible occasion."

"Exactly. We'll encourage them to go on picnics together, take rides in the woods—that sort of thing." Sophie paused for a moment, pursing her lips in thought. "Alex will see through it, of course."

"Of course."

"But I don't think it will matter. He's so besotted with her, he'll do anything to get her alone—even if that means going along

with your less-than-subtle schemes."

"Maybe he will just take the initiative and compromise her." Eugenia clapped her hands together in glee over that possibility.

"Mother!" Sophie exclaimed. "I cannot believe you said that. I can't believe you even thought it."

Eugenia sighed the sigh of weary mothers. "In my advanced years I find less and less of a need for scruples of any kind.

Besides, for all his rakish ways, Alex is a man of honor."

"Yes, of course. He's only nine and twenty. I would imagine he still has a few scruples left."

Eugenia's green eyes narrowed. "Are you poking fun at me?"

"Absolutely."

"Hmmph. I hope you're enjoying yourself."

Sophie nodded enthusiastically.

"What I was trying to say," Eugenia continued, "is that if Alex happened to compromise our Miss Dunster in some way—"

"Ravish her, you mean," Sophie interrupted.

"Whatever you want to call it, but if such an event were to happen in the, er, heat of passion— you must agree that he would

feel honor-bound to marry her afterward."

"Isn't this a rather drastic way of getting your son married off?" Sophie asked, still unable to believe that she was discussing

such delicate matters with her mother. "And what about Emma? She might not be exactly thrilled about getting compromised,

you know."

Eugenia looked her daughter straight in the eye. "Do you like Emma?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you want Alex to marry her?"

"Of course I do. I would love to have Emma as a sister-in-law."

"Can you think of a woman who would make your brother happier?"

"Well, no, not really."

Eugenia shrugged her shoulders. "The end justifies the means, my dear, the end justifies the means."

"I cannot believe what a strategist you've become," Sophie said in a hushed whisper. "And furthermore, you can't even be

certain that he'll compromise her!"

Eugenia's expression was smug. "He will certainly try."

"Mother!"

"Well, he will. I'm sure of it. I know a rake when I see one, even if he is my own son. Especially if he's my own son." Eugenia turned to Sophie with a knowing smile. "He's a lot like his father, you know."

"Mother!"

Her smile widened as she lost herself in memories. "Alex was born only seven months after our wedding. Your father was

quite a lover."

Sophie clapped her hand to her forehead. "Don't say another word, Mother. I really do not want to know anything about

the intimate details of my parents' lives." She sighed deeply. "I would really prefer to think of both of you as completely

chaste beings."

"If we were completely chaste, my dear"— Eugenia chuckled and unceremoniously poked her finger at her daughter—

"you would not be around now to talk about it."

Sophie flushed. "All the same, I'd rather not hear about it."

Eugenia patted her daughter comfortingly on her upper arm. "If it makes you feel better, my dear."

"It does, believe me. I simply cannot believe you're telling me this."

Eugenia smiled and shook her head. "Propriety, I'm afraid, has gone the way of scruples." With that, she wandered off into

the crowd, in search of Lady Caroline.

* * *

Belle and Dunford, meanwhile, were having a marvelous time waltzing around the ballroom. The waltz was still a rather new dance, and some considered it scandalous, but Belle and Dunford rather enjoyed it, and not just because it annoyed the more

staid members of society. Their love of the dance stemmed mostly from the fact that the waltz allowed a couple to actually

carry on a conversation without one or the other having to continuously turn his back. They were taking advantage of this

feature, rather heatedly debating an opera they had both recently seen when Dunford abruptly changed the subject.

"He's in love with your cousin, you know."

Belle was widely regarded as one of the most graceful dancers among the ton, but this time she didn't just miss a step,

she missed three. "He told you that?" she asked, agape.

Dunford gave her a little tug to get her back into the rhythm of the dance. "Well, not in so many words," he admitted,

"but I've known Ashbourne for ten years, and believe me, he's never been so silly about a female before."

"I'd hardly call falling in love silly."

"That's not the point and you know it, Arabella dear." Dunford paused for a moment as he smiled innocently at Alex, who had

just spotted him from across the ballroom. Turning back to Belle, he added, 'The fact is he's absolutely crazy over your cousin,

but I fear he's got it so firm in his head that he's not going to marry until he's nearly forty, that he won't do anything about it."

"But why is he so dead-set against marrying now?"

"When Ashbourne first made his appearance into society, he had already inherited his title, and he was also fabulously wealthy."

"And quite handsome."

Dunford smiled wryly. "It was a veritable feeding frenzy. Every unmarried lady—and quite a few of the married ones—set

her cap for him."

"I should think he'd find the attention flattering/' Belle surmised.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Ashbourne isn't blind, you know. It was excruciatingly apparent that most of the women who

were fawning over him were more interested in becoming a wealthy duchess than they were in getting to know Alex himself.

The whole experience quite turned him off the social scene. He left to fight on the Peninsula soon after, and I don't think his

desire to go was entirely due to patriotic fervor. He doesn't exactly hold most women in the highest regard." Dunford paused

and looked Belle straight in the eye. "Even you must admit that most ton ladies are really quite ridiculous."

"Of course, but Emma's not like that, and he knows it. I would think he'd be thrilled to find someone like her."

"That would be the sensible thing, wouldn't it?" The music came to a stop, and Dunford took Belle's arm and led her to the

edge of the dance floor. "But somewhere along the way, this mistrust of women got translated into a decision to avoid marriage

as long as humanly possible, and I imagine he's quite forgotten why he became so dead-set against getting married in the first place."

"If that isn't the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

Before Dunford could answer, they heard a deep voice chuckle. "I have heard a lot of stupid things in my life, Belle.

I'm intensely curious to hear the stupidest."

Belle looked up in horror at Alex, who was standing before her to ask her to dance. "Um,"

she improvised wildly, "Dunford here seems to think that, um, in operas, um, that people should sing less."

"He does, does he?"

"Yes, he does. He thinks that they should talk more." Belle looked at Alex hopefully. He didn't believe a word she was

saying and she knew it. Still, she didn't think he'd heard them discussing him, and for that she was blessedly thankful.

Unable to think of anything else to say, she gave Alex what she was sure must be a rather weak smile.

"My mother has ordered me to ask you to dance, Belle," Alex said frankly, grinning and ignoring her obvious distress.

"Goodness," Belle replied, "I had no idea that my popularity had sunk so low that men had to be forced by their mamas to

ask me to dance."

"You needn't worry. My mother is simply trying to get rid of me so that she and my sister can arrange my life without my interference."

"Plotting your marriage, I imagine." Dunford surmised.

"No doubt."

'To Emma."

"No doubt."

"You might as well just give in and ask her."

"Don't hold your breath." Alex took Belle's arm and prepared to lead her out onto the dance floor. "After all, I'm not the

marrying kind."

"Well," Belle declared sharply, "neither is she!"

* * *

Back in the side hallway, Emma had landed on the floor in an undignified tangle. Someone had left the side door open, but no candles had been lit in the hallway. As a result, Emma had not seen the doorway until she was right on top of it. She didn't

even try to stifle a groan as she slowly rose to her feet, twisting her neck and limbs to stretch out her aching joints. Absently rubbing her sore backside, she found herself fervently wishing that the Lindworthys had thought to lay down a carpet in the hall.

"You know," she muttered, continuing the conversation she'd begun with herself in the garden, "it's fairly clear that Alexander Ridgely is a danger to your health, and you should endeavor to keep far away from him."

"I heartily agree."

Emma whirled around in shock and found herself facing an elegantly dressed, sandy-haired man in his late twenties. She recognized him immediately as Anthony Woodside, Viscount Benton.

Emma groaned inwardly. She had met Woodside during the first few weeks of the season and had disliked him instantly.

He had been dangling after Belle for over a year and would not leave her alone, despite her obvious efforts to put him off.

Emma had tried her hardest to avoid him at subsequent affairs, but oftentimes she simply could not escape a polite dance.

There was nothing overtly offensive about him; his manners were nothing if not correct, and he was obviously intelligent.

Emma's low regard for him was a reaction to far more subtle aspects of his character. The tone of his voice, the way he

looked at her, the tilt of his head when he surveyed a ballroom—all of this somehow managed to make Emma feel extremely uneasy in his presence. He was a strange man, outwardly courteous to her but at the same time somewhat disdainful of the

fact that she was American and did not possess a title. To top it off, Alex seemed to hold him in extremely low regard.

So Emma naturally was not overjoyed to find him facing her in the Lindworthys' hallway. "Good evening, milord," she said

politely, trying to brush over the obvious fact that she was quite alone, far from the party, and had just literally fallen into the hallway from the garden. She prayed that he had not seen her sprawled on the floor, but one look at his sardonic smile told

her that she was not so blessed.

"I trust you are not injured from your fall."

Emma was exceedingly annoyed to note that he spoke those words to her bosom. She was acutely uncomfortable and longed

to tug her dress up, but she would not give the obnoxious viscount the satisfaction of realizing that he unnerved her. "Thank you

for your concern, milord," she said through gritted teeth. "But I assure you that I am perfectly fine. If you'll excuse me, however,

I really must be getting back to the party. My family will be missing me." Emma started to leave, but he quickly grabbed her

upper arm. His grip was not painful, nor was it cruel, but Woodside held her firmly, making it abundantly clear that he did not intend for her to leave anytime soon.

"My dear Miss Dunster," he said smoothly, his silky voice belying his iron grip on her arm. "I find myself intrigued by your presence in a deserted hallway just now."

Emma said nothing.

Woodside's grip tightened slightly. "No sharp comeback, Miss Dunster? Where is that famous wit of yours?"

"My wit is reserved for my friends," she replied icily.

"And your family?"

Emma blinked, unsure of what to make of that comment.

"I have a feeling, Miss Dunster, that you and I will soon be much closer than mere friends."

He let go of her arm abruptly, and Emma snatched it back. "If you think that I would deign to—"

Woodside let out a sharp laugh at the hot determination of her voice. "Really, Miss Dunster, I would not flatter myself so,

were I you. I grant that you are attractive, but you do lack the breeding that I require in a woman."

Emma took a step back, wondering if he was speaking about her or a horse.

"I am a Woodside. We may tumble gaudy-haired Americans, but we certainly do not marry them."

Emma's free hand shot up to slap his face, but he blocked her blow before it connected.

"Now, now, Miss Dunster, it wouldn't do for you to antagonize me. After all, once I am married to your cousin, I can

easily forbid her to associate with you."

Emma laughed in his face. "You think Belle will marry you? She can hardly bear to dance with you."

Woodside tighted his hold on her wrists until Emma could not help but wince from the pain. Her distress pleased him,

and his pale eyes glittered dangerously in the dim light of the hallway. Emma lifted her chin stubbornly, and he abruptly

let her go, causing her to stumble back a few steps.

"You shouldn't waste your time with Ashbourne, my dear. He'd never marry the likes of you." With that, Woodside laughed, executed a smart bow, and disappeared into the darkness.

Emma rubbed her sore wrists, slightly disconcerted by the encounter. She couldn't remain in the hallway all night, however,

and so she started quietly opening and closing doors, searching for a washroom. After about five tries, she found one and

scooted inside, shutting the heavy door behind her. A candle had been left burning inside a lantern, dimly lighting the small chamber. Emma groaned as she surveyed the damage in a looking glass. She was a complete mess. She quickly decided

that she lacked the necessary skill to fix her hairstyle, so she pulled out all of her hairpins and left them on the counter,

figuring the Lindworthys could think whatever they pleased when they found the pile the next day. She picked up the emerald-studded clasp that had originally held her topknot in place and used it to secure the front of her hair on the top

of her head, allowing a few fiery tendrils to curl softly about her face.

'That ought to do," she breathed. "Hopefully no one will notice that I've changed the style. I wear it like this most of the time anyway."

A quick check of her dress revealed that while a few blades of grass had stuck to her hem, no permanent damage had been

done. She plucked off the grass and left the blades on the counter with her hairpins. All the more mystery for the Lindworthys

to enjoy the next day, she decided, consoling herself with the idea that she might be making her hosts' lives a little more interesting. She scanned her hem for any more errant blades but finally gave up, figuring that if she missed any, at least her gown was green. It was more important than ever that no one suspect her whereabouts. It would not be so dreadful if it were whispered that she had been alone with Alex. But if anyone realized that she had been alone with Woodside— that, she could not bear. She still couldn't believe he actually thought Belle would marry him. That must have been what he meant when he said they would someday be more than friends. Emma shivered with distaste, trying to put Woodside out of her mind.

She put her hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath to regain her composure. Her slippers were undeniably wet, but

there was really very little she could do about that, so she stepped back into the dark hallway, hoping she could navigate her

way back without further mishap.

When she returned to the noisy ballroom, she poked her head in, anxiously scanning the faces until her gaze fell upon Belle.

Emma had never felt more relieved. A more careful scrutiny, however, revealed that Belle was accompanied by Alex and Dunford, and Emma resigned herself to the fact that she was not going to be able to talk to Belle in private. After about thirty seconds of making bizarre hand gestures and praying that nobody saw her, she finally caught her cousin's eye, and Belle came scurrying over, the two men close at her heels.

"Where have you been?" Belle asked urgently. "I've been looking all over for you."

"I was otherwise occupied," Emma commented dryly, her eyes resting meaningfully on Alex's face. Belle did not miss the

silent interchange, and she also turned to Alex, hands on hips.

"Good Lord," Dunford drawled. "I feel extremely fortunate that I am not on the receiving end of so many scowls."

"I wasn't scowling," Emma replied, shooting Dunford a look that came dangerously close to a scowl. "I was merely giving

him a pointed look. At any rate, ifs all over and done with and not very important."

Alex studied her face, thinking to himself that it was, indeed, very important, and furthermore, it was far from over and

done with.

"The point is," Emma said, turning to Belle and directing her comments quietly to her, "that I've changed my mind, and

I don't feel like getting into an argument with Uncle Henry and Aunt Caroline about the dress." Not to mention Alex.

"Good idea," Belle agreed.

Emma turned back to the two men. "If the two of you would go fetch my shawl, I'd be most appreciative."

"Don't see why it takes two grown men to get a shawl," Dunford pondered.

"Dunford," Belle said determinedly. "Will you please just go?"

Dunford muttered something about hostile blondes, but he dutifully crossed the ballroom to fetch Emma's shawl. And after a

fair amount of subtle hints and downright nagging, Alex was persuaded to join him. They returned just in time, for it was only moments after Emma had wrapped the fabric around her pale shoulders when Lady Caroline suddenly appeared, a wide smile brightening her features.

"I have marvelous news," she said, turning to the two young women. "Eugenia has invited us all out to Westonbirt for a short holiday." She tilted her head slightly so that she could address Alex. "Isn't that marvelous?"

"Marvelous," he replied with a tight smile, unable to decide whether he wanted to thank his mother or throttle her.

Caroline turned quickly back to Belle and Emma. "Henry has a headache, and I'm afraid that we are going to have to make

our excuses immediately. She looked back up at Alex and Dunford. "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm sure you understand..." Before either man could reply, Caroline had whisked her two charges away, and within minutes, the entire Blydon family was

ensconced in their carriage.