"Something close to friends?" he asked. "Why not friends?"

"Such friendship as we might enjoy would always be tempered by what has come before it. I accept that. There is also the matter of our different interests. Margaret enjoys pursuits that are considered wholly feminine, while I am for embracing ventures that-"

"That tweak the boundaries between men and women?" West asked with wry inflection. "Yes, I am beginning to appreciate it."

"That is probably for the best," she said, ignoring his mild sarcasm. "It will help us deal well together."

West very much doubted it, but he did not offer that opinion. "I am all for tweaking boundaries," he said, rising from his chair. He closed the distance to the sofa in two lithe strides and dropped to the cushion beside her. Surprise kept her immobile long enough to allow him to set his arm along the curved back and close to her shoulders. "Will you trust me?"

"Of course, but-"

West knew that was no answer that she had given him. No matter how she meant to finish the sentence, the addition of but negated what had come before it. He accepted it as affirmation anyway and turned slightly toward her, dropping the arm at her back so that it embraced her shoulders, and circling her waist with his other. He pulled her close, the action so swift and strong that she could not counter it. Her armswere trapped neatly at her sides, and when she stiffened in reaction, it merely brought her flush to his body.

He hesitated a fraction of a second, his head cocked to one side, then lowered his mouth to hers. "Trust me," he said again, his voice something less than a whisper, husky and intense. Then his lips covered hers.

West realized his memory had served him false. This kiss was more of everything he remembered-sweeter, hungrier, deeper, greedier-and his own reaction was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. He had not meant to break his promise that he would not throw down the gauntlet a second time.

Of all the ill-conceived plans...

That thought flickered through his mind as wildly as a candle flame caught in a draft. He could not steady it, yet it would not be extinguished. He closed his eyes to it instead and kissed her with more urgency, listening for that thing outside himself that would call a halt, knowing that he did not want to.

"Oh my!" Margaret Warwick Fairchild, Lady Tenley, stepped into the library ahead of her husband. She knew his view of the pair on the sofa was unobstructed, because her height was not sufficient to block it.

She wished that she might turn and gauge his reaction to what they were seeing. It was certain he would be struggling to put an indifferent face on it.

West did not permit Ria to break away in a guilty start He lifted his head slowly, steadied her with a long, significant look and a roguish smile, then drew back his hand at her waist. He kept his arm about her shoulders, while his head swiveled in the direction of the door.

"It seems we are caught out," he said with considerable sangfroid. "That was unanticipated."

Ria knew it was a lie but not because she heard it in his voice. Those carefully modulated tones of his gave nothing away. She suspected now that he'd heard Tenley and Margaret approaching before they ever twisted the door handle. He had meant to be caught out.

Lady Tenley raised one hand to her lips to help stifle her smile. "Apologies are in order, I think." She hurried to the sofa as West released himself from Ria's side and came to his feet. "You should be able to expect a measure of privacy in your own home. The manor is that, now, is it not?"

"Let us not make too much of it," West said graciously. "I know I am the interloper, and you are kind to make us welcome."

Ria watched Margaret flush becomingly and could hardly credit how the warmth transformed her sharply cut features from haughty to charitable. The difference was so striking that Ria actually blinked. This was something more than she could have anticipated, and she knew very well that Margaret was not merely responding to the title of the man before her, but the man himself. Risking a sideways glance at West, Ria could not discern that he found Margaret's reaction in any way out of the ordinary, yet she was quite certain this was a new experience for him.

Ria accepted West's hand when he held it out to her and permitted him to help her rise. It was less easy for her to be drawn toward him, but she followed his lead and tried not to show her relief when he kept the distance between them perfectly respectful. He released her fingertips and favored her, then Margaret, with a smile that held a question in its curve. Ria was the first to answer that smile's prompt. "Margaret," she said softly. "I regret that I have imposed upon your hospitality. I hope you will accept my apology for being unable to give you notice of our arrival."

Lady Tenley rose to the challenge and offered a public peace. "There is no apology necessary. I think we all comprehend that our altered circumstances require some flexibility of thought and action. Notice is not required. We are family, are we not? There is no imposition."

Ria thought Margaret's tone could have been a shade less cool, but it was a good effort, and mayhap a good beginning. She promised herself that she would not take it to heart if she learned later that Margaret meant little or even none of it.

Margaret laid her hand lightly on her husband's forearm and smoothed the sleeve of his black frock coat.

"Have you nothing you wish to add, my lord?"

"I have already welcomed them," Tenley said. His eyes darted between Ria and West, then rested on his wife. "Why has no one announced supper?"

Ria resisted making a jibe. Tenley was in a snit, and she wished above all things that she might needle him for it. Commenting, though, would be unwise; it was certain to set an uncomfortable tone for the meal.

Margaret graced Tenley with an indulgent smile, then ignored him. She engaged Ria and West in conversation, inquiring about their journey, London, the academy, their health, and finally, the weather.

By the time they were seated for supper, she had made them easy for silence-except Tenley, who had said little and was, in fact, praying for it.

Supper was lightly seasoned potato soup, warm, thick-crust bread, and baked trout. The fare satisfied at this late hour and Lady Tenley was delighted to accept West's compliments for the cook.

Conversation resumed in fits and starts. Politics. Theater. Books. Art. By unspoken mutual agreement, they avoided the subject of anything that could be construed as personal, most particularly the interrupted kiss. That topic was held in abeyance until the sexes divided after the meal: West and Tenley remained at the table for a glass of port; Ria and Margaret excused themselves and advanced on the salon.

Ria could freely admit that she was dreading being alone with Margaret. Their usual pattern following supper was to leave the dining room together and immediately find separate diversions. When they had no choice but to retire to the same room, they engaged in solitary interests, and such conversation as passed between them was scrupulously polite and invariably cool.

Lady Tenley was a fierce warrior, a fact that was often lost on people of short acquaintance. Her dainty, doll-like figure, porcelain complexion, small chin, and wide, aquamarine eyes served to influence assumptions that she was somehow lacking in spirit, perhaps even spine, and that she was best wrapped in cotton wool. It was naught but an illusion. She was, in fact, definite in her ideas, protective of her family, impatient with incompetence, and did not suffer fools. Those delicate features could become severe, even arrogant, when she was feeling threatened, and she had a way of drawing herself up that made her diminutive stature irrelevant.

"You will explain yourself, I hope," Margaret said once she and Ria were alone. "Do you imagine you have developed a tendre for him, or he for you? I would not have supposed you could be so lacking in good sense."

Ria sighed. "Can I not indulge a whim?" "A whim? You will be fortunate if Tenley does not march you to the altar."

"How is that fortunate?"

"Surely you know he has a reputation of a certain kind."

"What I know is that you do not call him by name. He is Westphal, Margaret, and whatever his reputation, it will be reevaluated in light of that."

"He is your guardian. He must not take advantage."

"And he has not," Ria said firmly. She came within a moment of admitting her confusion to Margaret.

The tenor of this interview was not what she had expected. Where was Margaret's relief that her affections were engaged elsewhere? Had she seen through West's charade, or was she merely testing the waters, wanting to be convinced? "I like him very much, Margaret, but you must not worry that I will allow myself to be compromised. I would not bring that shame upon the family."

"Westphal might not share your scruples."

"You are too harsh." There was no reason Margaret must know about the weapon he carried, or his trespass into her private apartments, or his insufferable high-handedness. "He has been everything kind and decent."

Margaret's eyes sharpened as she considered this. "He is not Tenley," she said at last.

Ria frowned. "I don't understand. What do you mean by that?"

"He is not his brother," Margaret said. Her pause was uncharacteristically long as she measured her words. "I do not wish to be disagreeable by broaching this subject, but I must point out that you cannot satisfy your tendre for Tenley by substituting his brother."

What could she say that would be believed? Ria wondered. Denying that she had any tender feelings for Tenley, beyond that of a sister toward her brother, seemed unlikely to convince Margaret. If Ria had ever required evidence of the depth of Margaret's feelings for her husband, she had it now. Margaret could not conceive that a woman would choose another man over Tenley.

It also seemed vastly inappropriate to discuss Tenley's feelings. While Ria understood that Margaret was aware of her husband's interests, she also knew Margaret had too much pride to admit it aloud.

Ria decided there was only one direction she might take, and it was West. Neither the wordplay nor the reality of it amused her. "You will account me as shameless," she said slowly, as if the words were being taken from her against her will. "I have not known His Grace but a few days, and you are fully aware that his existence was rarely mentioned in this house, but from the outset it has been as if I have never not known him. Mayhap you are right, and it is the passing resemblance and manner he shares with Tenley that makes it seem so, but I do not believe it is only that. What I feel for him in my heart surpasses anything I have known. I cannot say if it is love, only that I think it might be, because my heart trips over itself when he is in the room, and my thoughts scatter like wild seed in the wind. He is irritating and arrogant and must always be right, yet I forgive him all of it, not because I want to, but because I cannot seem to help myself." "Oh my," Margaret said softly. She lowered herself onto the sofa, perching on the edge like a wren.

"You do not forgive Tenley those things."

Ria pretended to think about this. "No, I do not. I never have. What do you make of that?"

"When Tenley was courting me, I forgave him those things also."

"Then the urge passes," said Ria. "That, at least, is good."

Margaret's features were softened by a slim smile. Her gaze went past Ria to the mantelpiece where she saw the Egyptian cat was missing one of its emerald eyes. "I still make allowances for him."

Ria nodded. "You love him."

"Yes."

"Is it love, then, that I feel for Westphal?"

"I think it might be."

Ria sighed heavily and sat herself. "You must give me advice, Margaret, for I haven't any notion of how one goes on from here."

West was a light sleeper. It served him well during the Spanish campaign when he had to take his rest wherever he could find it. He had once wedged himself in a rock crevice and woke at the approach of a French patrol some one hundred yards distant. He'd slept curled on the damp floor of a wine cellar and come awake at the sound of a cork easing itself out of a bottle. He'd spent one memorable night lying on his back in a whore's bed, bolting upright when she unsheathed a dagger from beneath her corset.

He never worried that he would not wake up. He always did.

That is why he was surprised when he snapped to attention and Ria said, "You sleep like the dead."

Unable to capture his bearings immediately, he simply blinked at her. She stood at his bedside holding a candlestick, and the wavering flame illuminated her cheek and the underside of her chin. Her eyes fell in shadow, making them impossibly dark, almost as if she were wearing a mask across the upper half of her face. Her brushed flannel robe was cinched tight around her waist, but the opening at her throat revealed the white scooped neckline of her nightdress and the hollow of her throat. The candle flame flickered madly again, and West realized it was caused by Ria shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She was fairly dancing in place, and it made him curious enough to lean over the side of the bed and have a look.

"Where are your slippers?" he asked.

"That is what you have to say to me? I have arrived in your room in the middle of the night, and you only inquire after my slippers?" She stood perfectly still for a moment. "You will allow it is most curious."

Groaning softly, West closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the bedhead. He ran one hand through his hair before he risked opening a single eye. When he confirmed that she was still standing there, that under no account was this the result of sharing too much port with Tenley, he took stock of the situationand found it so wanting of common sense and seemliness that for a moment he could not think what he might say to impress this upon her.

"Bloody, bloody hell."

Ria gave her head a toss and the pale, braided rope of hair that lay over her shoulder fell down her back. "I do not usually hold with cursing," she whispered. "But you have captured the essence of my own thoughts."

"Oh, good," he said dryly. "It is a relief to know. I was sore afraid I would never comprehend the workings of a woman's mind. To discover differently-at this hour, no less-well, you can see that I am buoyed by the news."

Ria's mouth flattened disapprovingly. "I see you mean to be unbearable."

"You collect there is some other manner I should adopt?" he asked coldly. "I should like to know what it is. It is gone midnight. You are here without invitation. Tenley and his wife sleep within a stone's throw of my bedchamber. We are both in our nightshirts. And-this may be the most salient factor-there is no bloody fire! Can you not conceive there might be a better approach, mayhap one that does not have a march to the altar as its consequence?"

Ria turned slightly and sat, hitching her hip on the edge of the bed. "I wish I had been as clearheaded when you appeared in my room at the school. The situation was not so different, though I think we might have avoided marriage. The most likely consequence of you being discovered there would have been my dismissal. I understand that you would not regard this as the same tragic ending as marriage, but it would be of like importance to me."

At the moment Ria sat, West had been of a mind to plant his foot hard against her bottom. He thought better of it now and eased it back.

Ria caught the movement under the comforter and said, in faintly accusing accents, "You were going to shove me onto the floor."

"I was going to push you off the bed. Whether or not you went as far as the floor would be up to you."

She could hardly credit that he did not lie about his intent. "That is something, at least."

West's brow furrowed. "Pardon?"

Ria did not realize she had spoken aloud. "It is nothing. I was musing."

West decided it was better to let that pass. He sighed. "Will you not come to the point? Why are you here?"

"How can you not know?" she asked. "You are certainly responsible. It is that cork-brained scheme you enacted in the library that must be put to rights."

"Put to rights? What is wrong? I thought it went very well. Tenley is sullen, and Margaret is relieved. My brother will recover his heart soon enough, and Margaret will be less prickly. She was everything cordial during dinner. I judge that kiss to be a success." "Margaret was pleasant at dinner because she would not have you think ill of her. You failed to comprehend that while she was hopeful that I might have formed an attachment to you, she was still reserving judgment. Once we were alone in the salon, she challenged me. At first I could make no sense of it, then I realized she wanted to be convinced."

"Convinced?"

Ria's short sigh communicated her impatience with him. "Convinced that I no longer had a tendre for her husband. Convinced that I was not agreeable to your advances simply because you are Tenley's brother.

Convinced that I would not be compromised. Convinced that my feelings were deeply engaged. In short, convinced that what she saw was not a sham."

"I see," West drawled. Then he went straight to the part of her exposition that he found the most striking.

"Am I to understand that Margaret considers me an inferior substitute for my brother? That really is the outside of enough."

Ria glared at him. "Can you not be serious?"

"Yes, but not about this. You are making too much of her doubts."

"My point, Your Grace, is that she no longer has any doubts. I convinced her."

"Good. Then it is an agreeable ending to a long day. Will you take yourself off now?"

"I convinced Margaret because I told her I love you." Ria felt an acute sense of satisfaction when that intelligence garnered all of West's attention. It was difficult to discern in the candlelight, but she liked to think his normally healthy color had gone ashen. "That's right," she said. "I told her I love you."

"There is nothing wrong with my hearing. Once was quite enough."

"Just so. Now that you know all of it, I shall leave." She started to rise and found her wrist seized in a sure grip. The tug was wholly unnecessary because she was already sitting down. "Yes?"

"Gloating does not set at all well on your face."

Ria did not make a very good effort to remove her smile. "Will you not release my arm, Your Grace?"

West glanced at the spot where his fingers circled the fragile bones of her wrist, then back at her. "And will you not call me West? I am heartily sick of the other." His eyes lifted, and he saw hesitation clearly marked on her face. "This one thing," he said, "and I will not press you for any other favor." He released her wrist to prove that answering her request was not predicated on her responding agreeably to his.

"Very well," she said, sobering. "If it pleases you. West."

"Good." He reached out and took the candlestick from her hand and placed it at the bedside. "Now, as to the other, this matter of you loving me, that is a Banbury tale, is it not?"

"Your panic is not flattering."

"You misjudge my feelings. It is not panic, but terror." At another time the sound of Ria's laughter would have pleased him. Now it seemed inordinately loud and certain to attract notice. He shot forward quicklyand placed his palm across her mouth. "Have a care," he whispered in her ear. "Else you will bring Tenley running to this room."

Over the top of his palm, Ria's eyes were wide. She nodded jerkily a few times to show her assent.