"I'm sorry you had to kill that prince."

"Will you be here tomorrow?" she asked.

His eyes stung without warning, his soul overwhelmed with love for this salty, regicidal, dress-mourning, beautiful-homely woman. He had no doubt the love he felt would fill the rest of his life.

"I will," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "I promise. For as many tomorrows as you want."

"That could be a lot," she warned.

"It had better be," he warned back. "I fully intend to keep you around till death do us part."

"Need a ring for that," she said muzzily.

"So you do," he agreed. "I'll see to it first chance I get."

He drowsed with her, sleepy but not asleep, listening to the house grow quiet as one guest after another left.

He wondered how Herrington had managed breaking the news of the prince's death, if he'd told everyone or only the prince's closest a.s.sociates. Adrian wasn't worried, merely curious, an unusual state of affairs for a man used to having, and taking, complete responsibility. Herrington had weathered political intrigues the likes of which Adrian could not conceive. Until his own aid was needed, he was content to leave the details in expert hands.

He had better things to think about.

He wasn't completely certain, but he believed he'd proposed to Roxanne. Even better, he was pretty sure she'd said "yes." Never mind she'd been half-awake at the time, he smiled to himself all the same.

Implied or not, he knew he could hold her to her promise. Roxanne McAllister was a woman of her word.

Chapter 29.

"We shall live happily ever after," declared Princess Hyacinth.

Her husband hadn't the slightest wish to contradict her, not when she clung to him and kissed his lips.

a"The Perils of the Princess, as serialized in the Ill.u.s.trated Times The snow had ceased, and the sky glowed a deep velvet gray. Roxie caught her breath at her first glimpse of Adrian's family home. Abruptly nervous, she wiggled her new ring around the finger of her glove. Adrian had given it to her this morning at breakfast. He'd slid it between their plates with no more fanfare than a smile and a comment that now their engagement was official. Until she saw the gleam of the little sapphire against the gold, Roxie had been thinking she might have dreamed his proposal. Their engagement might be official, but it hardly seemed real. It certainly didn't seem real enough to announce to his family. Why, she hadn't even told the boys!

"This is it." Adrian reached across her to unlatch the hansom door.

She stepped out with her hand pressed to her throat. "Look at the icicles on the eaves. It's straight out of a fairytale."

In truth, the scene could have been taken straight from her childhood fantasies. The front windows shone so brightly they cast squares of molten gold on the snowy lawn. Someone had shoveled a winding path to the door, a convenience ignored by a number of small-booted children. Their laughter, blown in swells and ebbs on the leaf-scented air, escaped the house's thick stone walls. She experienced a fleeting sense of perfection, of G.o.d come to Earth in simple human ties. Her eyes stung as Adrian embraced her from behind.

"You grew up here," she said. "In this beautiful place."

He kissed her ear. "Want to pet.i.tion to make it a national landmark?"

Before she could answer his teasing, he straightened. A big electric Falkham had pulled onto the shoulder of the road, its deep-grooved tires flinging snow and gravel in its wake.

"That's my father's automobile," Roxie said, recognizing the crest emblazoned on the boot. Without even thinking, she hid her ring beneath her cloak. She wasn't sure what Yamish fathers expected, but by human standards, she and Adrian should have consulted him. Now she regretted their rebellion against familial expectation. She might have no wish to let any one control her life, but she dreaded him taking insult. As she chewed her lip over this, a boy in dark livery scampered out of the car and threw a blanket over the hood, the way one would a horse left in the cold.

"My mother must have invited Herrington," Adrian said. "She probably read about him in the rags. She has definite ideas about family, and I'm afraid advance warning isn't always involved." His thumbs soothed the bare strip of skin between her chignon and collar. "I hope this won't upset you."

"No," she said slowly. "If my father wanted to come, I have no business objecting. We owe him a lot."

They owed him their freedom, if not their lives. Just that morning, the papers had reported on a famous Yamish doctor being fished out of the river. The city coroner surmised he'd slipped off an icy bridge a few weeks earlier and broke his neck. Despite Roxie's reasons for wanting her father to feel welcome, she was surprised Mrs. Philips wanted that, too. Perhaps Adrian's folks were more broad-minded than she'd been herself.

Adrian hugged her as Herrington stepped out. Roxie was glad for the support. She still wasn't used to the idea of liking him.

Herrington seemed as awkward as she was. His big hands smoothed his scarf as his eyes shifted from her face to Adrian's, quite the nervous gesture for a Yama. "You look well," he finally said to her.

If she did, it was due in part to him. A rohn-made dress had arrived by messenger that morning, this one a delicious apple green. It was more modest than the gown her fatal struggle with the prince had destroyed, but equally irresistible.

"Thank you for the present," she said.

"You're exceedingly welcome," he replied stiffly.

Adrian laughed at them both. "It's good to see you again, Lord Herrington. I applaud your courage at being willing to meet my family."

"Your mother wasa most insistent."

"Yes, sir. She has that gift."

The great Herrington was at a loss to answer this. It remained to Herrington's butler, Albert, doubling as chauffeur this evening, to rescue the awkward moment by suggesting they step inside where it was warm. As they moved ahead, the butler bent to whisper some direction to his youthful aide, who nodded earnestly. Herrington dressed his grooms well. The boy's burgundy coat matched the car, and he was equipped not only with a dashing gold scarf, but with cap, gloves, and boots. Still, it wouldn't be pleasant to sit in the cold all evening.

Adrian thought the same, apparently.

"Hey, there," he called, crunching toward the boy through the snow. Though Adrian's tone was kind, he recoiled slightly. "How would you like a job taking coats tonight, and a break for dinner after that?"

"That's all right," the boy demurred with a wary glance toward his employer. "Gotta watch the car."

Adrian stepped close enough to put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's a cold night. I'm sure you could dart out now and then to check on thea"Good Lord!" In a flash, his hand shifted to the scruff of the boy's neck. "It's Tommy Bainbridge!" He gave the boy, who looked quite wretched, a shake. "Your parents and I have been searching for you for the past two months."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Herrington. "That's Rodrigo, my new mechanic."

"Mechanic, my foot. I know that face better than I know my own. He may be good with cars, but he's twelve years old. Didn't you think to check whether someone might be missing him?"

Herrington's chest expanded beneath his huge bearskin coat. "That's hardly my responsibility. The boy wanted a job, and I gave him one. He said he was an orphan. I trust you're not suggesting he came to any harm in my care."

His tone was as aristocratic as his blood, his silver eyes as cool as the fallen snow. When Adrian began to bristle, Roxie knew she had to smooth the waters fast.

"Father," she chided, laying her hand on his thick fur sleeve.

Herrington opened his mouth to take offense, then snapped it shut. "You never called me that before."

"Well, I'm calling you it now," she said briskly. "So you can just get used to it. And don't be yelling at Adrian. He saw how worried Tommy's parents were. Wouldn't you have been worried in their place?"

It might have been a trick of the winter light, but she thought Herrington blushed.

"But I'm fine," Tommy declared, trying to squirm free of Adrian's grip. "I read about Lord Herrington in the rags and thought I'd hitch up here to get work. At first I just wanted to pay back for the car I accidentally crashed, but then I saw what was in his barn. Lord Herrington promised I could learn to drive them all. Why should I go home anyway? I'm nothing but trouble to my folks."

Heedless of the snow, Adrian hunkered before the boy and took his arms. "I understand how you feel, Tommy, maybe better than you think, but your parents were afraid something bad had happened to you. You're a bit young to be running your life by yourself. When you're older, you can work for Lord Herrington."

"But I'll miss the expedition!" Tommy wailed. "I'm supposed to keep the trucks running."

Herrington clapped his arm around the boy's shoulder. Roxie suspected no apology for his behavior would be forthcoming. Nonetheless, the gesture tugged at her heart.

"Don't worry, Rodrigo, er, Tom," he said. "We'll work something out. I'll run you back home tonight and talk to your father. Maybe he'll let you spend summers with me, and you can catch all the good expeditions." Giving the boy a last squeeze, he indicated the house. "Shall we?"

His hand settled between Roxie's shoulder blades as they advanced down the shoveled path and up the steps of the porch. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled strangely under the contact, as though her nerves had been thrown into confusion.

She didn't want to let him take charge, and yet she couldn't help but sympathize with his need to. She'd seen the man he was underneath his demon mask. She couldn't claim to understand everything about him, or to approve, but she couldn't deny they shared a similar loyalty to family. Knowing they'd both protect those they loved, even to the death, was oddlya"and perhaps dangerouslya"comforting.

The house surrounded Adrian in warmth and light.

"They've put up the Solstice decorations," he said, eyeing the garlands of holly and bay spiraling down the staircase. He inhaled deeply, then turned to help Roxie with her cloak. She fussed a bit with her gloves before handing them and her reticule over.

"Rum punch," he confided, smiling as the smells and sounds of childhood celebrations washed over him. How different this homecoming was. How long it had been since he'd allowed himself to enjoy one. He was so caught up in remembering, it took him a moment to realize how nervous Roxie was.

"It's crowded," she said in a low, startled voice. "I thought you said only family was coming. These can't all be your relatives."

"I am," piped the chestnut-haired girl who was struggling to heft Herrington's bearskin coat over her shoulder.

"h.e.l.lo, Amanda," Adrian said, the smile coming as naturally as the name, though it had been years since he'd seen Alice's oldest.

"h.e.l.lo, Uncle Adrian." She goggled at Roxie's bright hair. "Your sweetheart is pretty."

Herrington's butler choked on a laugh. He covered the lapse by nudging Tommy forward to help Amanda with her burdens. Then he followed the young people to the back of the house.

Herrington turned a distinctly wistful eye on their disappearance. "Where's the receiving line?"

Adrian bit back a grin. "I'm afraid my family doesn't go in for receiving lines."

Herrington leaned closer. "Are they really all related to you?"

"Mostly." Adrian raised a hand to greet an aunt he'd been convinced was dead. "The rest are neighbors. This is Mother's idea of giving the new baby a proper welcome."

"A proper welcome," Herrington repeated. Before he could investigate further cultural differences, Adrian's sixteen-year-old sister, Beth, came barreling down the hallway.

"You're here, you're here," she cried, flinging herself into Adrian's arms. Going on tiptoe, she buried her nose in his neck. "And you smell heavenly! Oranges and ginger."

Adrian's face heated as he realized his scent and Roxie's must have combined from stealing kisses in the cab. Charles and Max had taken their own hansom. The boys considered this a special treat and, although Roxie had ordered them not to ask the driver to race every vehicle they met, Adrian had no doubt they'd beaten his and Roxie's cab by miles. Not that it mattered. His family was good at making rambunctious boys feel at home.

No slouch herself when it came to being rough-and-tumble, Beth let him go. "You must be Roxanne!" she chortled effusively.

"I am," Roxie said unsurely. "Pleased to meet you, too."

"Hah!" Beth barked, punching Adrian's shoulder with enough friendly vigor to make him wince. He'd forgotten what a boisterous puppy she could be, though if her manners could put Roxie at ease, it would be worth it.

With a complete disregard for the honors due Herrington's rank, his sister waved at him, grabbed Roxie's hand, and started tugging her down the hall. "Come on, Roxie. I'll take you to the tower. They've got the latest baby in Mother and Father's room. Everyone's dying to meet you. Do you know that divine blond boy of yours chased Mother out of her kitchen! Said she wasn't basting the squabs properly. Mother near about popped."

Adrian turned to an endearingly lost-looking Herrington. "Why don't I introduce you to my grandfather? He's always saying he'd love the chance to chat with a diplomat. Besides which, he's got the key to Mother's brandy store."

"Ah, er, very good. Always ready to sample a home cordial." The hesitation in Herrington's voice told Adrian he suspected what he was in for but couldn't think how to evade it.

The round master bedroom, where the new baby was purportedly being shielded from too much excitement, reminded Roxie of a lighthouse. Tall, deep windows ringed it, between which bra.s.s ship's lanterns glowed. The air smelled pleasantly of baby talc. Despite its size, the room was crowded. Both Adrian's parents were there, though Varya was chatting too busily to do more than wave. All four of Adrian's sisters and their a.s.sorted husbands were ranged about the walls: the plain and placid Alice, the breathtaking but highly strung Marianne, Beth, of course, and Adrian's oldest sister, Julie, the voluptuous new mother.

Appearing perfectly content with the attention, Julie sat cross-legged on the bed in the curve of her dapper husband's arm, her baby cradled in her lap, her skirts spread across the counterpane. Though the styles of their dresses were different, and hers had a clean nappie thrown over one shoulder, hers was the same apple-green as Roxie's. Julie laughed delightedly at the coincidence, her cheeks glowing milk and pink with motherhood.

"Here she is, Gaspar. Guardian of your most treasured new employee."

"Hush," the restaurateur scolded without the slightest ire. "That boy's got a big enough head."

Julie patted the bed in front of her and, before Roxie even had time to say h.e.l.lo, a bright-eyed, squirming baby was ladled carefully into her arms. She gasped at the feel of him. He was so warm, so little, but so strong in his kicks and wriggles. With no more shyness than if she'd been a lifelong member of the family, Gaspar's hand came under hers to help support the baby's head. Julie leaned forward to coo at her infant son.

Before she could adjust to this unexpectedly warm welcome, Gaspar was calling out a greeting to Adrian, apparently shed of the burden of entertaining her father.

Even here, in the midst of his family, Roxanne's heart beat more forcefully at his approach. His smiling eyes locked with hers as he shouldered through the gathering, barely responding to his family's greetings.

"h.e.l.lo," she said nervously as he stood beaming down at her, at the baby in her arms, at Gaspar's hand curled so naturally beneath her own. She shouldn't have been tense. Everyone was being extremely nice, but part of her couldn't believe they'd really let her belong. d.a.m.n Adrian, anyway, for not telling them about the engagement ahead of time. She, for one, could do without the suspense.

"You look good with a babe in your lap," he said, not helping matters at all. He sat behind her on the edge of the bed, close enough that his chest warmed her back. When he reached over her to brush the baby's plump cheek, he noticed the omission on her right hand. Overcome by anxiety, she'd slipped his ring into her reticule.

"Ahem," he said, tapping the offending finger.

"I couldn't," she whispered back pleadingly. "Not by myself!"

"Is something wrong?" Julie asked.

"No, no," Adrian a.s.sured her, clearly amused. "Roxie's just a little shy in this chattering horde. Gaspar, do you think you could do the honors and quiet the room?"

The honors turned out to be an earsplitting whistle.

"Thank you," Adrian said as everyone settled. "You know I'm not much for speeches, but I have a few things to say. I'd appreciate if you'd refrain from rushing us until I'm done. First, and most important, this lovely woman has agreed to be my wife. Seconda"" He broke off laughing to let them exclaim while Roxie covered her blazing face.

"Second," he continued with no sympathy whatsoever for her embarra.s.sment, "since Roxie didn't grow up in a big, noisy family, I ask that you treat her gently for a while. Give her a chance to get used to your insanity."

"Adrian!" Roxie cried. "Don't make them think I consider them insane!"

Though her protest went unheard, it didn't seem to matter, because his relatives were indeed rushing them, surrounding them with too many hugs and kisses to tell who each belonged to. The effect was both alarming and wonderful. This was better than the family she'd dreamed of having as a chikla"messier, maybe, but a hundred times as warm.

"Well, that's nice," Adrian's mother chirped through the hubbub. "A wedding. And here I thought he was only going to tell us she was with child."

Judging she'd had enough of his relatives, Adrian helped Roxie escape to his old bedroom, now a sewing chamber. Though outwardly sentimental, his mother had made no shrines to her children. The moonlit room held few signs of its former use. He thought Roxie would find it peaceful enough to brace for the second wave. After all, the other half of his familya"the cousins and auntsa"still awaited downstairs.

"Whew," she said now. "I thought they were going to follow us."