"You never said you loved me!"

"And I assure you I will never regret anything so thoroughly for the remainder of my life."

"Why didn't you?"

His mouth opened, but he did not speak immediately. Finally he said, "I could not. Each time when we were together and the words came to my tongue-and it was often-I heard my father's voice pleading for forgiveness for his infidelity, my mother giving it to him, both of them suffering as they professed their undying devotion in the certain knowledge that they would do it all again."

"You thought it would be that way with me? With us?"

"I was certain of it. My feelings for you overwhelmed me. They still do."

"But you will not be unfaithful to me, will you?"

"Never," he said harshly.

Her heart ached with happiness. "Yet despite your hesitations, you persisted."

"I could not do otherwise."

"You were so careless in your addresses."

"It was either that or make violent love to you each time I saw you. I took the safer course, I thought, for both of us."

"I thought you didn't care. I thought you pitied me, trapped in Yorkshire with Mama. I didn't like the idea of you offering for me out of pity or perhaps even habit." Her hand slid over his chest.

"I see," he murmured. "You refused me because you wished to spare me from making a sacrifice of myself?" A wondering smile shaped his mouth. "You, my love, have much to learn about men."

"I refused you because the prospect of being married to you yet not having your love was infinitely more horrifying to me than the rest of my life spent serving a hundred Mamas. Obviously, I did not follow through on that resolution."

"That's all right. You had a rather pressing reason to alter your plans. But what a ghastly image you've just conjured, Bea. One hundred Lady Harriets living under the same roof." He shuddered, his eyes alight. "Horrifying. You have quite a vivid imagination."

"I am more than happy to put it to rest." Her fingers traced a circle on his skin. "I think I would like one of those lessons on men now. One man, in particular." She kissed his collarbone, loving the scent of him, his texture.

He breathed unevenly, but his voice was steady. "Your sister never broke my heart."

"Oh, don'ta*"

"I was mildly infatuated with her for a time when I first went to London."

"You played the cicisbeo very convincingly at my great-uncle's house party."

"Unless a nineteen-year-old on the town is drinking, gambling, and-forgive me, Bea-whoring his way into rustication, like your brother, by the way, he must play the cicisbeo to someone. I wished to avoid entanglements like my father's, so I chose a lady to admire. Georgianna was my sister's bosom bow and close at hand. And she was by far the kindest lady with whom I was acquainted then."

Bea smiled. "She is wonderful."

"She never had my heart." His eyes looked very sober. "I was waiting to lose it to her younger sister."

She sighed. He pressed his lips to her brow and she wound her arms about his waist and breathed him in.

"Bea, I have a confession to make."

"Haven't you already made one?" She sighed again, and grinned. Since when had she become so flighty?

"Another confession. This one shameful, I'll admit." He smiled. "Your mother did not frighten off your suitors in London. I did."

Her eyes widened. "You? How on earth?"

"I knew them well enough. I had introduced you to most of them, fool that I was. But I was proud of you. Proud of this lovely girl I'd found."

"How did you accomplish it, scaring them away?"

He gave her a devilish grin. "I told each one of them-confidentially, of course-that you intended to bring your mother to live with you once you were wed."

Bea could not repress her bubbling laughter. "Thank you, my lord."

"For ruining your prospects?"

"For saving me for you." She lifted her lips to be kissed. Tip cupped her face in his hands and bent his head.

"I love you, Bea. Thoroughly." He brushed her lips. "Madly." This time he stayed for longer, tasting and giving pleasure. "Body and soul."

"Show me," she whispered.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

"I must look a fright," she said when she eventually had independent use of her tongue again. She said it very unevenly.

"You look beautiful. And you feel like heaven." Tip's eyes were dark with heat. He stroked into her in slow, tantalizing thrusts, teasing Bea's pent need. "Now, where were we when those pesky tears interrupted us? Here, perhaps?" He took her earlobe between his teeth and pressed her into the mattress with a hard thrust. Bea gasped and lifted her hips to meet him.

"Ah, yes. And here?" His hand curved around her breast. His fingers found the peak and caressed until the delectable pleasure undid her, the ache building in her with hurried fever. In need and ecstasy, her entire body tighteneda*her breasts and thighs and belly, the tips of her toes. Her hands clenched on his shoulders.

"Yes, yes. Oh, everywhere. Peter, I ca-cannot breathe."

"No, my love," he said with a slow, deep smile. "You are only now beginning to breathe."

Then he showed her what he meant.

December 4, 1822 Diary, I married him.

EPILOGUE.

"Another letter from Lady Marstowe, my love?"

Bea swiveled around on the escritoire chair and smiled at her husband coming toward her across the townhouse's morning parlor. Early spring sunlight beamed through French windows, sparkling like Bea's blood did each time she saw him. Four months of marriage had served only to immerse her more deeply in love.

She reached up and grasped his hand, bringing his palm to cradle her cheek. "I like it when you call me that."

"I like to say it." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "What is the news from Gwynedd?"

She offered the letter to him. "Aunt Julia is happy as can be at the castle, engaging Bronwyn's grandmother in all sorts of useful projects. Aunt Grace has sent Mama home."

"Your mother is too taxing even for the old termagant to bear after so many months?" He scanned the letter. "Bea, you were a saint."

"Were?"

"Are, of course. No doubt I am as demanding as Lady Harriet."

"Only in ways that I am more than happy to accommodate," she replied, standing and placing her palms on his chest.

He dropped the letter onto the desk and his arms encircled her. "Is that an invitation?"

She slid her hands around his shoulders. "Haven't you an appointment you were about to go to?"

"It can wait."

"I promised Bronwyn I would take her to the shops this afternoon."

"She can wait."

"She is already waiting, in the parlor."

"That's what parlors are for." He pulled her tight against him.

Bea laughed, the same tumble of complete joy she felt every day. "Wasn't this morning sufficient to satisfy you until tonight?" she asked, loving the sensation of his wandering hands.

"I'm making up for lost time. Four years is a long while for a man to go without." He bent, clearly intending to kiss her, but she pressed him away, her eyes widening.

"Four years? You did not."

"I did."

"But were you-? What I mean to say is, don't gentlemen-?"

"Most certainly." He offered her a delectable smile.

She narrowed her eyes. "What about that house party at Nancy and Averill's, that time? Everyone assumed you and that pretty widowa*"

"Everyone?" His brow perked.

"Thomas can be very indiscreet. But don't sidetrack me. I find it difficult to believe that you- What I mean to say is, you are not particularly reluctant-"

"I didn't say it was easy." He was still smiling.

"But why on earth didn't you?" The words barely crossed her tongue before she understood. Four years ago he had proposed to her for the first time.

As though seeing that realization in her eyes, Tip brushed his lips across her temple, breathing in deeply.

"I was in love with you, Bea," he murmured. "I didn't want any other woman."

"But I refused you," she said unsteadily. After months of marriage, she still trembled when he told her.

"Nevertheless, I considered myself bound."

She met his expressive gaze and tilted her mouth to his.

"I think Iversly considers himself bound in some manner," she said a few minutes later, rather more breathless than she'd been since dawn when she was wrapped in his arms with the bed linens tangled about them.

"Perhaps." Her hair muffled Tip's voice. His fingers worked at the hooks along her spine. She ran her palms over his broad shoulders.

"Aunt Grace writes that they have not heard from or seen him in all these months."

Tip's hands slowed and he drew away slightly. His emerald eyes glinted and she could see that he wished to tease, but then he grew serious.

"I feel for the fellow. I was never all that cheerful after you rejected me, either."

"I don't think it was about me in particular."

"There I believe you are wrong, my love."

"Well, perhaps somewhat," she conceded. "But I think it was much more, really. I think he believed that through me he could avoid what he truly longs for."

"You may never know. Will it bother you?"

She took a breath and settled snugly into his embrace again. "I am truly sorry for him, but I have a living man whose future happiness I hope to assist in securing."

"Now, there is a venture I can applaud." Tip set to work again at the fastenings of her gown, his mouth moving to her neck.

"I meant Thomas, of course."

"He can wait too." He started in on her petticoat lacings.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Bronwyn wishes to purchase a new pair of opera glasses for him, in thanks for escorting her to see the program last night."

"How nice for him," he murmured against her mouth, his palm stealing down to cup her behind and pull her flush against him. He was hard already-hard, wonderful, and hers.

Her breath caught upon a sigh of anticipation. "He likes her a great deal." Her hand slid down his waist.

"Thank God."