Aghast to have her torment known, Elizabeth took a step back. "A bit tired, but I 'm certain a drive in the crisp morning air will cure that."

"A lovely idea. I 'll join you." Elaine pushed back from the table.

Stuck in a position where refusal would be rude, Elizabeth released a deep breath and nodded. With a strict warning to the staff to leave the lord of the house undisturbed, Elizabeth and Elaine departed.

As the town coach lurched into motion, Elaine noted, "You have a fair number of outriders to accompany you. I believe you are more heavily guarded than the king."

"Westfield is a bit overprotective."

"How like him to be so concerned."

Elizabeth seized the opportunity to learn more about her husband. "I 've wondered, is Marcus much like his father?"

"No. Paul is most like the late earl, in appearance and disposition. Robert is a bit of an anomaly, G.o.d love him. And Marcus is by far the most charming, but the more reserved of the lot. Always has been difficult to collect his aim until after he's achieved it. He hides his thoughts well behind that polished facade. I 've yet to witness him losing his temper, but he has one I 'm certain. He is, after all, his father's son and Westfield was a man of high pa.s.sion."

Sighing inwardly, Elizabeth acknowledged the truth in the words spoken to her. Despite hours of physical intimacy, she knew little about the man she'd wed, an exquisite creature who drawled when he spoke and shared few of his thoughts. Only when they were alone did she see the pa.s.sion in him, both his fury and desire. In her own way, she felt blessed to know those sides of him, when his beloved family did not.

Elaine leaned across the carriage and captured one of Elizabeth's hands with her own. "I knew the moment I saw you together how perfect you would be for him. Marcus has never appeared so engaged."

Elizabeth flushed. "I would not have thought you would endorse me after what transpired four years ago."

"I subscribe to the 'reason for everything' school of thought, my dear. Life has always come too easily for Marcus. I 'd prefer to think your...delay contributed to his grounding these last few years."

"You are too kind."

"You wouldn't think so if you knew the things I said about you four years ago. When Marcus left the country I was devastated."

Riddled with guilt, Elizabeth squeezed Elaine's hand and was touched when her hand was squeezed in return.

"Yet you married him anyway and he has grown much from the man who first offered for you. I hold no ill will toward you, Elizabeth, none at all."

I w ish Marcus felt the same, Elizabeth thought silently, and not a little sadly.

The coach slowed to a halt. Before they had the opportunity to alight from the carriage, the employees of the shops lined the curb to greet them. Having spied the crest emblazoned on the door, they were anxious to a.s.sist the new Countess of Westfield and reap the rewards of herhusband's largesse.

The morning pa.s.sed swiftly, and Elizabeth found a respite from her melancholy with Elaine, appreciating the older woman's suggestions and advice while relishing the maternal companionship she'd lacked all her life.

Elaine paused in front of a milliner's window and sighed at a lovely creation displayed in the window.

"You should try it on," Elizabeth urged.

Elaine blushed and confessed, "I have a fondness for millinery."

Waving her mother-in-law inside, Elizabeth strolled to the neighboring perfumery, leaving the two outriders who followed her at the door.

Once inside, she stopped before a display of bath oils and removed the stopper from a bottle to sample the fragrance. Disliking the scent, she put it down and picked up another.

"I hear congratulations are in order, Lady Westfield," rasped a masculine voice behind her.

Startled, she almost dropped the fragile bottle, her stomach tightening in recognition of the unique voice. She spun to face Christopher St.

John, her heart racing and eyes wide.

In the light of day, without a mask or wig to hide his features, he was a splendid looking specimen, angelic in appearance with his dark blond hair and vivid blue eyes.

Arrested at first by his exceptional handsomeness, she quickly came to her senses and changed her mind. Fallen angel was a more apt description. The signs of hard living were etched on his countenance. Shadows marred the skin beneath those amazing eyes, betraying a life that had no place for restful slumber.

His lips curved derisively. "Has no one told you it's not polite to stare?"

"Do you intend to stab me again?" she asked curtly, taking a step back and b.u.mping against the display. "I f so, get on with it."

St. John threw his head back and laughed, drawing the attention of the clerk behind the counter who gazed at him with blatant admiration.

"Feisty, aren't you? I can see why Nigel liked you so well."

Her eyes widened as the familiar address. "And how would you know how my husband felt?"

"I know a great many things," he replied arrogantly.

"Ah yes, I forgot." She was frustrated by his confidence in the face of her fear. "You somehow learned of Hawthorne's journal and have been threatening me for it ever since." Elizabeth gripped the bottle of bath oil so tightly her hands ached.

St. John glanced down. "Put the bottle aside before you hurt yourself."

"Don't worry about me. I t's you who most stands to be hurt by it." She hefted the bottle in warning before dropping it carelessly onto the shelf, ignoring the roiling in her stomach. "What do you want?"

St. John stared at her, his face reflecting an odd mixture of emotions. "I t took me all morning to lose those lackeys Westfield has hounding me."

Through the gla.s.s front of the store she saw the backs of the two outriders who stood guard. "How did you get in here?"

"Through the rear entrance. I t has been extremely difficult to approach you with those d.a.m.ned outriders and Westfield guarding you at all times."

"That is the point."

He scowled. "The first time we met, I had only a few moments to speak with you. I couldn't explain."

"Explain now."

"First, you must know I would never hurt you." His jaw tightened. "I 'm attempting to a.s.sist you."

"Why would you wish to do that?" she scoffed. "I am married to a man who would see you hanged if he could."

"You are my brother's widow," he said quietly. "That is all that matters to me."

"What?" Physically thrown off balance by his statement, Elizabeth reached behind her in an effort to steady herself and instead knocked over several bottles, which crashed to the floor and shattered, filling the room with the cloying scent of flowers and musk.

"You lie!" But the moment she denied it, she knew it was true.

Upon closer examination, the similarities were obvious. Nigel's hair had been the same dark wheat color and his eyes had been blue although not as brilliant as St. John's. The nose was the same, the shape of the jaw and chin, the placement of the ears."Why would I?" he asked simply.

She examined the pirate in greater detail. His mouth was not the same. Nigel's had been less wide, the lips thinner, and his skin had been softer, more pampered. Nigel had sported a mustache and Van d.y.k.e. Christopher's face was clean-shaven. But the differences were minor. Had she known to look, she would have caught the resemblance earlier.

Brothers.

The color drained from her face.

Her lungs sought air, but the restriction of her corset made it difficult to breathe. She felt dizzy and her legs gave way, but St. John caught her to him before she fell. He dipped her over a steely arm, his hand tilting her head back to better open her airway. "Easy," he soothed in his raspy voice. "Take a breath. Now another."

"d.a.m.n you," she gasped. "Have you no tact? No sense to know better than to spring such news on me with no warning?"

"Ah, your charm is once again in evidence." He smiled and looked for a moment very much like Nigel. "Keep breathing as deeply as you can. I have no notion of how you women suffer your corsets."

The bells above the door chimed merrily.

"The dowager has arrived," he murmured in warning.

"Elizabeth!" Elaine cried, her voice growing louder as she rushed closer. "Unhand her immediately, sir!"

"I apologize, my lady," St. John replied with a smile that was charming even from Elizabeth's underside view. "But I am unable to oblige you.

I f I release Lady Westfield she will certainly collapse to the floor."

"Oh," said the shop girl as she joined the muddle. "Christopher St. John."

"St. John?" murmured Elaine, trying to place the name.

"'E's famous," supplied the girl.

"You mean infamous," grumbled Elizabeth as she struggled to right herself.

Christopher laughed.

Elaine frowned. Uncertain of how to handle the situation she fell back on her manners. "Thank you, Mr. St. John, for your a.s.sistance. I 'm certain The Earl will be most appreciative."

The full lips curved with wry amus.e.m.e.nt. "I sincerely doubt that, my lady."

Elizabeth struggled against his thickly muscled chest. "Release me," she hissed.

He chuckled as he straightened her, making certain she was steady on her feet before dropping his arms away. Then he turned and paid the besotted shop girl for the broken items.

"Elizabeth, are you unwell?" Elaine asked with obvious concern. "Perhaps it is too soon after your illness for you to be out."

"I should have eaten this morning. I felt faint for a moment, but it's pa.s.sed now."

St. John returned to their sides, gave a courtly bow, and made his excuses.

"Wait!" Elizabeth hurried after him. "You cannot simply walk away after telling me something like that."

Christopher lowered his voice, glancing over her head at the dowager countess. "Does your mother-in-law know of this affair?"

"Of course not."

"Then it's not wise to discuss this now." He collected his hat from atop the bin near the rear hallway where he'd left it. "I will find you again soon. In the meantime, please be careful and trust no one. I would never forgive myself if something untoward happened to you."

I t was shortly before luncheon when Elizabeth and Elaine returned home. They parted on the second floor landing, both retreating to their rooms to change their gowns. Elizabeth was exhausted, hungry, and totally confused by St. John's revelations, a combination that gave her a splitting headache.

What w as she to do now ?

She couldn't share St. John's claims of kinship until she knew them to be true. And if they were, her marriage would be a disaster. Marcus truly hated St. John and had wed her for reasons best left unconsidered. What would he do if he knew? Despite how she wished it, she couldn't seehim considering it of no consequence. Certainly it would mean something to him, and Eldridge as well, that the man they pursued with a vengeance was connected to her in so personal a way. And William. All these years it was St. John who bore the blame for nearly killing him. But was that true?

Was the pirate so cold and calloused as she'd been led to believe? And Nigel...Dear G.o.d, Nigel. Working for Eldridge to hunt his own brother. Or perhaps he'd a.s.sisted St. John in his activities, which made him a traitor.

She needed time to think and contemplate the ramifications of what she'd learned today. As it was, she was barely able to walk, her steps dragging and her stomach growling. Later, once she was of firmer mind, she would reason out how to share the news with her husband.

Entering her room, she closed the door. She moved to collapse in the large wingback chair by the fireplace and started in surprise to find Marcus sitting there.

"Good heavens, Marcus! You gave me a fright."

He rose from the chair and Elizabeth wondered if it was her lack of sleep that made him appear taller and more menacing. "Surely not so much of a fright as I received when I discovered you had left the house," he drawled.

Her chin lifted in response to the sudden leap of her heart. Dressed for riding, he was impossibly handsome and she hated to discover that she still wanted him, even after crying over him all night. "Such care for my well-being. Unfortunate that you had none for me last night."

When she attempted to pa.s.s him, his hand whipped out and caught her upper arm, dragging her to him. "I heard no complaints," he growled.

"Perhaps if you'd stayed longer you would have."

"I f I 'd stayed longer, there would be no complaints at all."

She yanked free of his grip, her chin quivering at his words, which betrayed his understanding of the pain he inflicted. "Leave me and take your arrogance with you. I must change for luncheon."

"Despite being de trop, I believe I 'll stay," he said softly, though the challenge in his eyes was hard.

"I don't want you here." His presence renewed the unhappiness she'd spent all morning trying to forget.

"And I did not want you venturing out without me. Sometimes we don't attain the things we desire."

"How well I know it," she muttered, ringing for her abigail.

He released a breath that could only be described as frustrated. "Why must you deliberately ignore the danger?"

"I took the outriders with me and as you can see, I am home and all in one piece. You didn't mind when I went out before. Am I to be a prisoner now that we're wed?"

"You have not been out since the stabbing. The danger is greater now, and well you know it."

Elizabeth dropped into her gilt vanity chair and gazed at his angry reflection in the mirror.

Marcus eyed her closely before resting his large hands on her shoulders and squeezing so tightly she flinched. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then a soft rap came at the door.