he lonely walk home gave Emma ample time to scrutinize her ill-fated conversation with Alex. It didn't take her long to figure

out exactly what had happened. Belle had told her about Alex's first foray into polite society, and Emma knew that he was still pursued relentlessly for his title and his wealth. She also knew that he detested the women who wanted him for these reasons.

Emma realized that when Alex had asked her what prompted her to propose to him, she'd answered the question all wrong. Practically the first word out of her mouth had been "money." But, she thought angrily, he had asked what prompted her to

ask him, not why she wanted to marry him. If he had inquired about that, she probably would have gulped down her pride

and told him that she loved him, praying that he'd respond in a similar fashion.

But just because she understood why Alex had reacted as he did didn't mean that she forgave him for the injustice. He never should have jumped to such a vicious conclusion about her. She thought that they had built a more solid relationship than that.

She had believed that Alex was her friend, not just another one of her admirers. And as her friend, he ought to have trusted

her enough at least to ask her what she meant when she said that she needed money. If he had cared about her, he would

have realized that there had to be more to her story than simple greed. He would have given her the chance to explain the

sticky situation in which Ned had placed her.

Emma took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. If Alex didn't trust her as a friend, she didn't see how he was going to trust her as a wife. And that probably meant he didn't really love her.

Emma hurried along as she turned the final corner that led to the block where she lived. She had no doubt that Alex would eventually come to his senses and figure out what had happened. He had a stubborn streak that almost matched hers, but he would realize that his image of Emma as a money-grubbing social climber just didn't ring true in light of their two months of solid friendship. He might even apologize. But Emma didn't think she'd be able to forgive him for not trusting her. They could have

been very happy together. They could have had a marvelous marriage. Well, she thought spitefully, he had ruined his chances

for happiness.

Unfortunately, he had also ruined hers.

Which was why, when Emma finally scurried up the steps and slipped through the front door of the Blydon household, it was all she could do to blink back her tears and race up the stairs to her bedroom before they exploded like a flood. She locked her door with a quick twist of her wrist and threw herself down on her bed, thoroughly soaking her pillowcase within minutes.

She cried with great, big, wrenching sobs that shook her entire body and wrung out her soul. She was oblivious to the noise she was making, nor did she notice the tentative taps that first Ned,

then Belle, then finally Caroline made on her door. A piece of her heart had been ripped out that afternoon, and Emma was mourning its loss. Never again would she trust her judgment when it came to men. And the most agonizing part of it was, she knew that she still loved him. Alex had, in a way, betrayed her, and still she loved him. She didn't think she'd ever learn how to stop loving him.

And she hurt so much. Her father had told her that time healed all wounds, but she wondered if there were enough years left in her lifetime to ease the hard, throbbing ache in her heart. Alex had wounded her, and he had wounded her deeply.

But as Emma's tears slowly subsided, another emotion came to join the sorrow, hurt, and pain that racked her body. Anger. Pure, unadulterated anger. How dare he treat her so callously? If Alex couldn't trust her, the woman he supposedly wanted to spend his life with, he must be colder, meaner, more cynical than the ton had ever supposed. For all she cared, he could live out his life all alone with his hard little heart.

She was furious.

And so, when Emma finally unlocked her door, and Ned came tumbling into her room, her eyes were still red-rimmed and bloodshot but she wasn't crying. She was seething.

"What on earth happened?" Ned burst out, quickly closing the door behind him. "Are you all right?" He took her by the

shoulders, scanning her features intently. "Did he hurt you?"

Emma looked away. Ned's concern for her well-being diffused most of the explosive anger that possessed her.

"Not physically, if that's what you mean."

"He said no, didn't he?" Ned surmised. "What an idiot. Any fool could tell he was in love with you."

"I guess he's the biggest fool of all, then," Emma tried to joke. "Because he surely didn't know it himself." She crossed the room and gazed bleakly out the window for a minute before finally turning back to her cousin. "I'm really sorry, Ned. I know how desperately you needed the money. I don't think I'm going to be able to get it now." Emma let out a harsh little laugh.

"Unless you marry me, of course."

Ned stared at her in amazement.

"Although I don't think we'd suit," she continued wryly. "Frankly I think I'd laugh if you tried to kiss me. I don't think it's going

to work. I'm so sorry."

"For God's sake, Emma!" Ned exploded. "I don't care about the money. I'm not a pauper. I'll find a way to get it." He strode

over to her and pulled her into a brotherly embrace. "I'm concerned about you. That bastard hurt you, didn't he?"

Emma nodded, feeling slightly better now that Ned was holding her. A hug worked wonders for the broken heart. "Actually, the only thing that is keeping me from crying right now is that I'm so furious with him. And," she added sheepishly, "I've cried so

many tears I think I've dehydrated myself."

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"Actually, I think I would."

"Wait a moment. I'll fetch a maid." Ned led Emma to her bed where she dutifully sat down and then crossed the room and

opened the door.

Belle tumbled in.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Belle," Ned burst out. "Were you eavesdropping?"

Belle picked herself up off the floor with as much dignity as she could muster, which wasn't much, considering that she'd landed on her belly. "What do you expect?" she demanded in an exasperated voice. "The two of you have been creeping around the house for the past two days, obviously conspiring to carry out some sort of nefarious plot, and neither of you has had the decency to include me." She snorted at Emma and Ned, planting her hands resolutely on her hips. "Did it not occur to either of you that

I might like to know what was going on? I'm not stupid, you know. I might have been able to help." She sniffed disdainfully.

"Or at least had fun trying."

Emma stared at her blankly throughout the tirade. "There wasn't any nefarious plot," she finally replied.

"And it wasn't any of your business, anyway," Ned said, somewhat peevishly.

"Rubbish," Belle retorted. "If it were only your business, it wouldn't be any of my business. And if it were only Emma's

business, it wouldn't be any of my business. But if it is both of your businesses, then it's obviously my business, too."

"Your leaps of logic are astounding," Ned commented dryly.

"I've quite forgotten what it is we were talking about," Emma added.

"And then!" Belle said dramatically, working herself into a fine little snit. "And then, I came home from the park today only to

find that my only cousin is crying her eyes out behind a locked door, and when I tried to go to comfort her, my darling brother stopped me and said, 'Leave her alone. You don't even know what she's upset about. Do be gone.'"

Emma turned to Ned, eyebrows raised curiously. "Did you really say 'Do be gone'? That's a perfectly horrid thing to say."

"Well, I might have," Ned said defensively. "If you recall, it sounded as if you were dying in here. I was quite worried."

Emma stood up, turned to Belle, and took her hands. "I'm sorry if you felt left out, Belle. That certainly wasn't our intention.

It was just that Ned had a problem, I had a solution, and everything happened so fast that we forgot to include you."

"And I'm sorry I made such a scene," Belle replied sheepishly. "But now you really ought to tell me what is going on."

"About which?" Emma asked. "The problem or the solution?"

"Either. Both."

"Well, to sum things up, I asked Alex to marry me."

Belle sank onto the bed, nearly pulling Emma along with her. "Whaaat?"

"And the bastard refused," Ned put in savagely.

"He what? He didn't."

"He did," Emma said with a morose little nod.

"Why?" Belle asked incredulously.

"Actually, that's a bit personal." Emma fidgeted slightly and then quickly added, "And I haven't told Ned a thing about it."

"But why? Couldn't you wait for him to propose? That's how it's usually done, you know. I'm certain he would have gotten

around to it sooner or later."

"I didn't really have much time."

"What on earth do you mean? You're not exactly a spinster, Emma."

"That's where I come in," Ned interjected. "Emma was sacrificing herself on the altar of marriage for my sake, I'm afraid."

Belle drew back, looking at Emma with a skeptical glance. "You'd do that for Ned?"

"Anyway."' Ned continued loudly, pointedly ignoring his sister's jibe. "I've gotten myself into a bit of a mess. A gambling debt."

"How much?" Belle asked bluntly.

'Ten thousand pounds."

"What?!" Belle shrieked.

"My reaction precisely," Emma murmured.

"Are you crazy?"

"Look, I've already been through all this with Emma," Ned sighed. "Suffice it to say that Woodside was cheating."

"Oh no, not Viscount Benton," Belle groaned. "The man's a swine."

"He's worse than you think," Emma added. "He offered to trade the debt in for you."

"For me? Oh no, you don't mean..."

"Actually I think he wants to marry you. And he probably thought that compromising you would be the only way to get

you to agree."

Belle shuddered. "I suddenly feel extremely dirty. I think I would like a bath."

"I have a bit of money that my mother's family left to me," Emma explained. "I thought I would give it to Ned so that he

shouldn't have to tell your parents about it, but I'm not allowed to touch any of the funds until I marry."

"Oh my," Belle breathed. "What on earth are we going to do?"

"I don't think I have any choice," Ned said. "I'll have to see a moneylender."

"Unless..." Emma said thoughtfully, her words trailing off.

"Unless what?" Ned asked sharply. "The last time you said 'unless' you decided to propose to Ashbourne, and all that

got you was a broken heart."

The mention of Emma's shattered emotions nearly sent a tear rolling down her cheek, but she quickly blinked it back.

"You idiot," Belle hissed, kicking her brother in the shin.

"I'm sorry, Emma," he apologized immediately. "I should never have said that. I really didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"It's all right," Emma said in a small voice, glancing over her shoulder so she wouldn't have to look at her cousins while she regained her composure. "While I was talking to the two of you, everything was so, well, normal. I'd almost forgotten to be

sad. You just reminded me, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Ned repeated.

"Don't be. I'm sure I'll remember to be sad a hundred times before I fall asleep tonight. And I'm sure I'll remember to be

angry a hundred more times. But perhaps, just for now, the two of you can try to help me forget."

"Right!" Belle said quickly, skipping back to their previous conversation. "You said 'unless.' I think you were devising some

sort of plan."

Emma stared off out the window for a few more moments before finally replying. "Oh yes. Right. Here is what I think we

should do."

Belle and Ned leaned forward expectantly.

"I think we should steal Ned's voucher."

"What?" her cousins asked in disbelieving unison.

"If Woodside hasn't got the voucher, he can't very well try to collect the debt. And there is no way he can convince anyone

that Ned hasn't paid up if he doesn't have the voucher to prove it. It's a beautiful plan."

"It might work," Ned said thoughtfully. "When do you want to do it?"

"We'd better start right away. We haven't got long, and we don't know how many times we'll have to try before we find it."

"How on earth are you going to make sure that he's not home when you steal it?" Belle asked. "I don't think he goes out every night. And I certainly don't know enough about his habits to predict when he would leave if he actually did go out."

Emma looked her cousin straight in the eye. "That," she said decisively, "is where you come in."

Belle recoiled visibly. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Oh, for goodness sake, Belle. I am not asking you to prostitute yourself. All you have to do is send Woodside a flirtatious little note that you are eager to see him at the..." Emma bit her lip and looked upward as she mentally scanned her engagement calendar. "At Lady Mottram's ball tomorrow night. We already know that he is thoroughly infatuated with you. I haven't a doubt that he'll race to meet you there. All you have to do is contrive to keep him entertained for a couple of hours while we slip in and grab the voucher."

"And how do you propose I do that? He's probably going to think that Ned has decided to sacrifice my virginity for ten thousand pounds."

"All the better," Emma said with a nod. "He definitely won't leave the ball before you do, then."

"Just don't let him drag you out into the garden," Ned advised.

"Or a balcony," Emma added. "Balconies are often poorly lit. I've heard that quite a bit goes on out there."

"What should I say when people inquire after the two of you?" Belle asked. "They will, you know. I don't think I've gone

to a ball alone all season."

"You won't be alone." Emma replied. "I'm sure your mother and father will attend."

"Well, that is comforting, I must say." Sarcasm dripped from Belle's every word. "Don't you think they will be just a little bit curious about my spending so much time with a man I utterly despise?"

"Belle, you are an intelligent woman," Ned stated matter-of-factly. "I am certain you will think of something."

"No one will question Ned's absence," Emma put in. "He's a man, you know, and they are allowed to go about as they wish.

And as for me, well, just say that I'm feeling a bit ill. My falling out with Alex will probably be the latest on-dit by then, and everyone will expect me to be thoroughly heartbroken."

"This is going to be the most horrid, repulsive, disgusting task that I have ever undertaken," Belle sighed, looking as if she had

just drunk a glass of sour milk.

"But you'll do it?" Emma asked hopefully.

"Of course."

* * *

Tuesday night Alex spent with a bottle of whiskey.

At some point during his drunken stupor, he began to marvel at Emma's wondrous acting talent. She'd have to be very good

to fool him for a solid two months. He'd been so certain that he'd known her, really known her, the way he did Dunford, and Sophie, and his mother. She had become such an integral part of his life that he often could predict what she was going to say before she said it. And yet she consistently surprised him. Who would have guessed that such a keen mathematical mind was hidden beneath her bright tresses? Or that she was just about the fastest tree-climber in the British Isles? (This he hadn't seen firsthand, but Belle and Ned had both sworn it was true.)

Surely a woman who could climb a tree, bait a fishhook with a worm (yes, he'd heard all about that, too), and perform long

division with the greatest of ease couldn't be the greedy little bitch he'd called her earlier that afternoon.

But when he'd asked her why she wanted to marry him, she'd come right out and said it: money.

But then again, no woman who is dangling after a fortune actually admits to the man in question that all she wants is his money.

She had, however, said she needed money. That much was irrefutable.

But then there was the needling little fact that Emma had quite a bit of money of her own. Alex was familiar with her father's company; it was quite profitable. In all truth, she didn't really need his fortune. If he hadn't been so furious with her that

afternoon, he might have remembered that fact.

Something didn't make sense, but Alex was a little too drunk to figure out what.

He fell asleep in his study.

Wednesday morning he nursed a horrific hangover.

He hauled himself up the stairs and collapsed onto his bed, where, amidst the throbbing of his temples and his dangerously

queasy stomach, he began to wonder if perhaps some sort of misunderstanding had taken place. It certainly made more

sense that Emma's actions over a two-month period ought to carry more weight than a flippant comment made on the

spur of the moment.

If that were true, then he'd just made a paramount ass of himself.

But on the other hand, Emma's comment about needing money validated all of the opinions he'd held about women for

nearly ten years. Surely a decade took precedence over two months.

Alex let out an agonized groan. His head was still far too bleary to make such weighty decisions, and truth be told, he was

afraid he wasn't going to like himself very much when he finally did reach a conclusion about what had happened the

previous afternoon.

Cursing himself for a coward, he drifted back to sleep. It was easier than thinking about her.

When he finally woke up, a few hours after midday, it was not due to his valet's careful prodding, nor to the bright sunlight

that streamed through his window. Rather, he was brutally awakened by Dunford, who had artfully wheedled his way past Smithers and plowed right through Alex's valet, who subsequently removed his offended sensibilities to the kitchens where

he was nursing a strong cup of tea.

"Wake up, Ashbourne!" he yelled, shaking Alex by the shoulders. "For the love of God, man, I don't think we've got much

time to spare."

Alex reluctantly opened his eyes. Christ, it felt as if someone had applied sealing wax to his eyelids. "What are you doing in

my bedroom?"

Dunford recoiled from the noxious aroma of stale alcohol on Alex's breath. "Good Lord, Ashbourne, you reek. What did you

do last night? Imbibe a winery?"

"I don't recall inviting you into my bedroom," Alex said in an irritated voice.

Dunford wrinkled his nose. "The stench pouring forth from your general direction is really quite amazing."

"In fact, I don't recall ever inviting you into my bedroom."

"Don't flatter yourself. There are many other bedrooms I would prefer to occupy. However, we are in dire straits. Desperate measures were necessary."

Alex shot his friend an annoyed glance as he laboriously rose from his bed and crossed over to his washstand, where a bowl

of water had been left out the previous night. He splashed his face, blinking a few times as the frigid water started to restore circulation to his brain. "Dunford, what are you talking about?"

"Something is going on over at the Blydon household. Something very strange. I think we need to intercede."

Alex closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm afraid you'll have to proceed on your own. I don't think I'm welcome any longer

in the Blydon household."

Dunford raised his eyebrows.

"Emma and I had an argument," Alex said simply.

"I see."

Alex doubted that he did. "It may have been just a misunderstanding," he muttered. "In which case I may be the greatest

fool who ever lived."

Dunford declined to comment.

Alex looked at his friend intently. They had known each other for years, and he valued Dun-ford's judgment. "What is your

opinion of Emma? You've spent a fair amount of time with her since she arrived. What do you really think of her?"

"I think you're an idiot if you don't marry her."

"Do you think she'd marry for money?"

"For God's sake, Ashbourne, she's got a fortune of her own. She doesn't need to marry for money."

Alex felt a knot begin to unfold within him as the cold cynicism he'd carried around for years began to crumble.

"But do you think she's greedy?" he asked, almost desperately. "Some women never have enough to satisfy them."

Dunford stared Alex in the eye, his warm gaze never wavering. "Do you think she's greedy, Ashbourne? Or are you afraid

to take a chance?"

Alex slumped into a chair, his face a portrait of abject despair. "I don't know anything anymore," he said wearily, resting his forehead in one of his hands.

Dunford moved to the window, where he looked out over the busy London streets. He sighed softly, aware of his friend's confusion yet sensing that he needed to keep the last shreds of his pride intact. So Dunford kept his gaze fixed on a tall oak tree across the street as he said, "I've known you for at least a decade, Ashbourne, and in that time I have rarely presumed to offer you advice. But I'm going to do it now." He paused for a moment, trying to collect the words in his head. "You've spent the last ten years resigned to the fate of a marriage that, if not unhappy, would at least be unsatisfying. And then you met Emma, and suddenly the possibility of a happy marriage arose, but you've grown so distrustful of women that all you can do is look for

reasons why Emma won't make you a good wife. And I think it's because you know that if you take a chance on Emma, and

you aren't happy, it will be far, far more painful than any marriage of convenience you might have imagined."

Alex closed his eyes, unused to such scrutiny of his emotions.

"But there is one thing you forgot," Dunford continued softly. "If you take a chance on Emma, and you are happy, you'll be

happier than you've ever dreamed possible. And I have a feeling she's worth the risk."

Alex swallowed as he rose out of the chair and went to stand by Dunford at the window. "It isn't easy listening to a

dissection of one's soul," he said gravely. "But I thank you."

A ghost of a smile touched Dunford's lips.

"I don't think she'll see me though," Alex said grimly. "I've really botched things up. The damage may be irreparable."

Dunford tilted his head to one side. "Nonsense. Nothing is irreparable. Besides, she may not have a choice."

Alex quirked one eyebrow.

"I think she and Belle have gotten themselves into some sort of a scrape," Dunford explained. 'That's why I came over."

"What's wrong?" Alex asked quickly, a sense of panic rising within him.

"I'm not certain. I dropped by the Blydons' to see Belle this morning and while I was waiting for her to come down,

I overheard her instruct a footman to deliver a letter to Viscount Benton with all possible haste."

"Woodside!" Alex exclaimed. "Why on earth would she want to contact that bastard?"

"I have no idea. As a matter of fact, I'm quite certain that she thoroughly detests the man. He's been leering at her for over

a year. More than once she's begged me to help her escape him. Why do you think I end up dancing with her so often?"

Alex caught the tip of his thumb between his teeth as he tried to make sense of Belle's behavior. "Something is wrong,"

he said grimly.

"I know. It gets worse. Just as Belle was about to enter the parlor where I was waiting, Emma came rushing down. I don't

think she saw me at first because she grabbed Belle by the arm and urgently whispered, 'Did you send it? Did you make sure

that Malloy knows to tell him it's most urgent? It's not going to work if he doesn't meet you at Lady Mottram's.'"

"What happened next?"

"That's when Emma noticed my presence. She turned quite pink and started stammering. I don't think I have ever seen

her at such a loss before. The next thing I knew, she had run up the stairs."

"Did you question Belle about it?"

"I tried to, but she gave me some ridiculous story about a prank the two of them were playing on Ned. I imagine she was

hoping that I hadn't heard her giving the footman the note for Woodside."

"We're going to have to do something," Alex said decisively. "Woodside has no scruples. Whatever they're doing, they're in

over their heads."

"We can't stop them, however, if we don't even know what's going on."

Alex planted his hands on his hips. "We'll just have to confront them tonight."

"Right," Dunford agreed with a sharp nod.

"At Lady Mottram's."