M iddleton was not waiting for her in the carriage as she'd hoped, and, in fact, had sent no word at all.

The driver said he was to see her to Redford House on Park Lane and no other instruction was given him.

When the carriage pulled into the small courtyard of the palatial Redford House and the footman opened the door, Ava's stomach clenched. What was she to do? Proceed without her betrothed?

Proceed, apparently, as the footman had put down a step for her and was holding up his gloved hand.

Ava leaned forward and glanced out into the courtyard, where two more footmen had suddenly raced from the front door to stand attentively at the bottom of the steps.

"Ah..." she said, wincing a little, "

is Lord Middleton about?"

The footman glanced over his shoulder. "I do not see him, my lady."

"Don't you?" she asked weakly, craning her neck to have a look about the courtyard. "I confess to being a bit at a loss. Are you quite certain his lordship did not send a message to me? Perhaps with instructions to wait somewhere other than the duke's drive?"

With the barest hint of a smile, the footman helped her down. "He did not, madam. Perhaps the duke's butler could be of some a.s.sistance."

"The butler, of course!" she exclaimed, relieved. "I should have thought of it myself. Thank you."

The footman was smiling fully now, and he touched the tip of his hat. "A pleasure," he said, stepped back, and looked straight ahead as she straightened her redingote and bonnet.

Once she was completely straightened out and had pa.s.sed as much time as was possible without drawing attention to herself, Ava reluctantly proceeded to the steps leading up to the house and smiled at the two footmen there. It seemed entirely too late to turn back now-she supposed she was about to meet her future father-in-law without benefit of introduction from her future husband. And why was that? G.o.d forbid, had he changed his mind? Had he discovered he no longer wanted to marry her, but his letter explaining his change of heart had not yet arrived at her door?

No, that was ridiculous. He wouldn't have sent a carriage for her if he'd had a change of heart. Perhaps he did indeed intend to marry her but leave her fully to her own devices, beginning with the proper introduction to his father. Whatever the reason, this did not augur a particularly good beginning, did it?

As she stood pondering her predicament, the ma.s.sive pair of entry doors opened, and a small, impeccably dressed man stepped out. "My lady? Might I be of a.s.sistance?"

"How do you do. I am..." Waiting for my betrothed to do me the courtesy of introducing me to his father.

The butler c.o.c.ked his head to one side.

"I am Lady Ava Fairchild," she said, and lifting her chin, marched up the steps. If there was one thing the Fairchild women did fairly well, it was to stare down adversity and muddle through. It wasn't as if she'd never met a duke before-of course she had. This one was no different-he wore the seal of the royal order of something or other on his chest just like all the others.

When she reached the door, the butler stood to one side to allow her entry. She swept in as if she were queen of the castle, stopped directly in front of a console, and went about removing her bonnet.

"Shall I tell his grace what your call regards?" the butler politely inquired.

"Is he not expecting me?" she asked, and thrust her bonnet at him. "I don't believe I have come with acard-"

"It is not necessary. I shall tell him you have called." He bowed deep, put her bonnet aside on the console, and walked away.

His grace would think she was a loose woman, calling on him all alone. The more she thought of it, the angrier she became, and she jerked her gloves off, one finger at a time, and tossed them onto the console next to her bonnet. The footmen had returned, and she shrugged out of her redingote and held it up to one of them on the tip of her finger.

The footman rushed to take it.

As she stood there, lost in thought, the front entry opened again and Middleton swept in, his cloak snapping around his ankles as he strode across the marble foyer to the console. "Forgive me," he said, and leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek. "I was unavoidably detained."

Detained? The man smelled of whiskey and smoke. She could just imagine how he'd been detained and glared at him.

He did not seem to notice her expression as he impatiently shook off his cloak and handed it to a waiting footman. "Are you quite prepared then?" he asked, straightening his cuffs.

"Prepared?"

Middleton glanced at her sidelong. "To meet the Duke of Redford."

She was here, wasn't she? "I suppose I am," she said.

"Very well," he said briskly, and held out his arm. "Let us repair, then, to the lion's den."

Ava started to ask him what he meant by that, but he'd already picked up her hand, placed it squarely on his arm, and begun walking. "I would advise you to use an economy of words," he said flatly, his expression grim. "It will not do to prolong this conversation. Respond when spoken to, allow him to have a look at you, but otherwise, do not speak."

"I beg your pardon?" Ava asked indignantly, and yanked her hand from his arm.

Middleton stopped midstride and sighed irritably as he turned to face her. "Lady Ava," he said shortly, sounding terribly formal for a man who would marry her in a matter of days, "allow me this-I am well acquainted with the man. He is not a particularly congenial sort, and as he did not personally select you to be my wife, he is not in a particularly welcoming mood."

Ava gasped.

"Therefore," Middleton continued, ignoring her shock, "I advise you only so that this interview will be over quite rapidly and you emerge free of harm. Understood?"

"Free of harm?" she echoed, mortified. "You would choose this moment to tell me your father is not happy with the match?" she exclaimed, and glanced frantically over her shoulder. "Really," she whispered loudly, rising up on her toes so that her lips were near his ear, "shouldn't you have said something before now?"

Middleton actually laughed. "Before now? Have you forgotten that I proposed marriage to you only this Friday past?"

Ava colored slightly. "It still seems you might have found time to mention it."

He smiled again, and touched his fingers to her jaw. "There was no time to tell you," he said. "And to have told you any sooner wouldn't have altered my father's feelings."

That was an excellent point, and really, when he smiled, she couldn't help but be charmed by him. Standing there in that wide, carpeted corridor, with the paintings of Middleton's ancestors staring down at her, Ava wished that he really did love her.

"Well then?" he asked, his gaze falling to her lips. "Shall we proceed? Or would you prefer to postpone the meeting?"

"No," she said softly. "On to the lion's den."

The Duke of Redford was a proud man, but if there was one thing that gave him pride above all else, it was his son, Jared. He loved him dearly, and wanted to see his son succeed him, to have the respect he was due.

But Charles worried that his son was too much like his mother in some respects. He was something of a dreamer, just as she'd been. Jared's blind spot had always been that he believed he was free to be like any man, free to come and go and do as he pleased, answering to no one. He'd never understood or would not accept that his responsibility tethered him. He was not free-in some respects, he was a prisoner to his life. Every move he made was watched by his peers, every smile he turned on a woman was reported. Every bit of business he transacted was discussed in gentlemen's clubs about town.

Of course there were many privileges to offset the immutable rules of the aristocracy. His wealth alone afforded him grand opportunities. His t.i.tle and handsome appearance meant he could have any woman of proper pedigree that he desired. Why Jared couldn't see it this way, why he had to buck against the reins of his fate, his father simply could not understand.

But his son had never accepted it and had made some very foolish decisions in his life that had affected others as well as himself. Even as recently as a few months ago, Jared had made a rash decision Charles could scarcely believe. Whether his son did it to defy him or because he truly, if misguidedly, believed in what he was doing-he could not seem to understand how such decisions impacted the entire duchy.

As the sole heir, every misstep, every bit of disregard he showed for his birthright and the establishment weakened the Redfords. A man's duty was to his crown and his family. Not to himself.

And now this. After cavorting with the wh.o.r.e Lady Waterstone, Jared had bowed to pressure and offered for a woman whose pedigree did not match that of Lady Elizabeth Robertson. He'd gone and found compatibility with the daughter of a woman who had definitely married up when she snared the Earl of Bingley in her web, a young woman who was now the stepdaughter of Lord Downey. The duke shuddered just thinking of that man.

Even now, Charles did not consider himself to be a coldhearted man, and he did sincerely wish his son well. He was determined to make his peace with Jared-he'd done what Charles had asked of him, and while he didn't approve of the match, Charles was accepting of it.

He was therefore pleasantly surprised when the woman who would be his daughter made her entrance.

He expected a mousy little thing, awed by her surroundings, frightened of his stature. Lady Ava was no such woman. She walked across the room, her chin high, her eyes bright, and extended her hand to him as she sank into a perfect curtsy. "Your grace, it is my great pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Surprised, Charles lifted her up. "Thank you," he said, looking into her face. Her large green eyes seemed to sparkle naturally with a winsome smile that curved into dimples on each cheek. Her hair, the color of honey, was artfully swept up and tied with ribbon.

"You have agreed to marry my son," he said, stating it aloud more for his own benefit than hers.

"I have," she said, smiling prettily.

"And your stepfather? What is his opinion? As he has not been to call, I can only surmise he is quite pleased."

"My stepfather is not as yet aware, your grace. He is in France and won't return for another week or so.

" That was a bit startling, for he would have a.s.sumed Jared spoke to the man before speaking to Lady Ava. But then again, he knew that times were changing-the formality of these matches was not nearly as rigid as that of his youth. "Well," he said, smiling charitably as he gestured for them to sit. "There will be plenty of time to gain his permission, won't there?"

"I don't know," she said uncertainly. "I don't think he shall return before we are married."Charles stopped in his move to a chair and stared at the young woman. "I beg your pardon?""We are to be married next week," Jared said.His chest constricted around his heart. "Next week?" he echoed. "I haven't heard of this!""We have only just decided and have come to tell you." Jared spoke so easily, so coolly, that it angered Charles. His son smiled serenely, and the smile struck Charles with a disquieting thought-his son hatedhim."Might I inquire as to why the rush to the altar, as if I can't already surmise?"

"There is nothing to surmise," Jared said, his smile fading. "But we saw no reason to delay it...do you?""It's absolutely scandalous!" Charles said, barely able to control his anger. "The entire ton will think yourfiancee is with child!"

"She is not, sir. And we will be at Broderick Abbey, away from the gossips who feed such rumors.""I hardly care where you will be, sir. There will be talk," Charles said sharply."I beg your pardon, your grace..."Startled by the interruption, Charles jerked his gaze to Lady Ava."I...I wanted to go forth," she said uncertainly.Jared looked at her with surprise and then chuckled, whether only to annoy his father or because she amused him, Charles could not be sure. But he turned fully to face his would-be daughter-in-law. "I

scarcely care, Lady Ava. To marry so quickly is vulgar."

She blinked her wide green eyes at him, then glanced at Jared. "My fiancee is being kind," he said. "It was entirely my idea and she has graciously agreed. It is best for us."

Charles angrily turned away from his irreverent son, frustrated, appalled, and furious. "I want thisabomination stopped."He heard Lady Ava's soft gasp, but his son said clearly, "No, your grace. We are committed."

He jerked around and pinned Jared with a hot look. "How dare you flaunt your impertinence-""We are not flaunting," Jared said calmly. "We would keep this a private matter, with only family and afew dear friends attending. And you, if it pleases you."

That stopped him. As tumultuous as the subject of marriage and heirs had been between them, Charles

was stirred by the prospect of seeing his only child marry. He glanced at the pretty young woman beside him, who had not collapsed with shock and dismay as he would have expected given the tender const.i.tution of women in general, but looked rather hopeful.

He frowned. Looked her up and down. "Is there any reason to expect you are not capable of conceiving or giving birth?" he asked bluntly.

"Your grace!" Jared protested hotly, but Charles stopped him by lifting a hand.

"It is a legitimate question."

"No, your grace," Lady Ava said quickly, her hand going to Jared's to still him, her porcelain cheeks stained pink.

Charles sighed. "And when might I be subjected to this abomination of a wedding?"

"Next Friday morning," Jared said tightly.

A lump of something-regret, disappointment perhaps-formed in Charles's gullet, but he swallowed it down. He looked at Lady Ava once more. She was a st.u.r.dy girl, not one given to vapors, he imagined. " Very well, then. I shall witness."

One of Jared's brows lifted above the other. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Now go," Charles said irritably, and turned away from them again, unable to comprehend why he felt so utterly dejected at that moment.

He heard a bit of whispering, then heard them quit the room. For a long time after they'd gone, he stood at the window, looking out over Hyde Park. And then he retired to his desk, took a hand portrait of Jared's mother from the bottom drawer and gazed at it.

And he hoped, with every fiber of his being, that Jared would at least find the happiness that had eluded him with Jared's mother.