"You went into people's homes homes?"

"Yes."

"Good heavens," she breathed. "How often?"

He sincerely hoped she wasn't looking for an exact number. He'd not cared enough at the time to keep count. "As often as I needed until I was old enough to acquire what I needed in other ways."

"What other ways?" she asked in a tone that said she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

"I did apply myself to legal work," he a.s.sured her. "I also cheated at cards and used my ill-gotten winnings to finance a variety of enterprises. Some that were reputable, and some that were less reputable, but vastly more profitable, like smuggling."

"You were a smuggler."

"I was until William caught me."

"Is that that why you went to work for the War Department? Why you might have hanged?" She opened her mouth, closed it. "What on earth were you smuggling?" why you went to work for the War Department? Why you might have hanged?" She opened her mouth, closed it. "What on earth were you smuggling?"

"Wool out and brandy in, as the majority of smugglers do. Until a few hours ago, I was under the impression I had unwittingly smuggled correspondence between spies. As it happens, that was a...misunderstanding."

"That is a significant significant misunderstanding." misunderstanding."

"It was. But it's been...cleared up." Almost. There was still the small matter of retribution.

"Well...all right." She shook her head, clearly bewildered. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

He almost wished there were, just so he could keep talking. The longer he talked, the longer he delayed the moment of judgment. Then again, the longer he kept talking, the less likely that judgment would fall to his favor.

He shook his head.

She was quiet for several moments-several excruciating long moments to his mind-as if digesting everything he'd said. "Do you feel better for having told me all of this?" she finally asked.

"I don't know." How was he supposed to have an answer for that before she'd told him how she she felt about it? felt about it?

"Did you tell me thinking you might feel better?"

He dragged a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

"Well, why did you tell me?"

"I...I thought you should know. I needed you to know. And I suppose I needed to make a gesture."

"Like the gesture of climbing through my window?"

"I was afraid words would not suffice."

"It depends on the words," she replied softly.

He crossed the room to pull her to her feet and cup her face in his hands. He took a deep, fortifying breath, and then took the biggest risk of his life. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I adore you. I could provide a speech, if you need it. Something poetic like you've read in your books-"

"No. No, that isn't necessary," she said unsteadily. She closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh, then another, much shakier sigh.

When the first tear slid down her cheek, he pulled her into her arms with a groan. "Sweetheart, don't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The tears that had briefly clouded her eyes when she'd broken Lord Brentworth's vase had hurt him to see, but the heartache she quietly cried out now was his doing, and his alone. He couldn't stand the thought of it. He held her, rocking her back and forth, whispering hoa.r.s.e words of apology in her ear, and despite his earlier a.s.sertion that there would be no begging, he found himself doing just that. "Stop now, sweetheart. Please Please, stop."

She nodded against his chest, but another minute pa.s.sed before the soft shuddering of her breath eased into a more natural rhythm.

Sniffling, she pulled back to look up at him. "You're certain? You'll chance it?"

He studied her face. Her eyes were puffy, her nose red, and her cheeks blotchy. She was the most exquisite thing he'd ever seen. "For you, with with you, I'd chance anything." you, I'd chance anything."

"Oh." She closed her eyes again. "Oh, that is is excellent." excellent."

"I'm delighted you think so too." He kissed her forehead and gently wiped away the tears with his fingers. "Does this mean you'll forgive me?"

She sniffled again and opened her eyes once more. "For hurting us both, yes. For the man you were? If you need it, I certainly will. But I've never known that man, so..." She trailed off, sniffled once more and eyed him a little curiously. "You weren't, by any chance, a pirate at some point in your colorful past?"

"A pirate?" he repeated, caught between bewilderment at the non sequitur, a relief so great it threatened to overwhelm him, and a joy so sharp he wondered he was able to feel anything else at all.

She'd forgiven him. She'd offered to forgive him for everything.

"The image does suit you rather well," she explained.

"No." He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. "Pirating is one sin I cannot claim."

"Pity." She wiped the remaining dampness from her cheeks and smiled. "I imagine it would be quite exciting to be married to a pirate, even a former one."

"How do you feel about being married to the current head of the War Department, instead?"

Slowly, she lowered the handkerchief. "Well, er, William Fletcher is a very nice man, but-"

"I meant me, sweetheart," he explained on a small laugh. "William is retiring. He wants to name me as his successor."

A smile bloomed on her face. "A nice and very wise man."

"You may change your mind about that once I tell you his role in our..." He recalled William's disgust for the number of times he had been forced to relate the story of his deathbed promise to the late Duke of Rockeforte. "No...no, I do believe I shall let him tell you the details of our mission together. I'm done with talking for the moment."

And with that proclamation, he bent his head to Kate's. As their lips met, he thought that this, this this was the kiss he should have given her from the start. There was no purpose beyond feeling, no thought given to who had the upper hand. It wasn't a test or a lesson or a frantic bid to ease a pain or battle back fear. It was simply love-given, received, and destined to last forever. was the kiss he should have given her from the start. There was no purpose beyond feeling, no thought given to who had the upper hand. It wasn't a test or a lesson or a frantic bid to ease a pain or battle back fear. It was simply love-given, received, and destined to last forever.

Epilogue

Kate struggled, almost almost successfully, not to squirm in her seat. It was terribly difficult to remain still and wait patiently as a small crowd filed in to take their seats in the theater. But it wasn't the many curious eyes glancing in her direction that made her anxious, nor that some of those glances also held a distinct air of disapproval along with the curiosity. It was excitement that made her reach out and take Hunter's hand in an effort to steady herself. successfully, not to squirm in her seat. It was terribly difficult to remain still and wait patiently as a small crowd filed in to take their seats in the theater. But it wasn't the many curious eyes glancing in her direction that made her anxious, nor that some of those glances also held a distinct air of disapproval along with the curiosity. It was excitement that made her reach out and take Hunter's hand in an effort to steady herself.

Brushing his thumb across her wrist, he turned to her, his dark eyes filled with concern, with pride, and with love. "Nervous, darling?"

"Excited."

"And happy?"

"Yes." She grinned and looked out over the audience from their box. "Oh, yes."

Because curious, disapproving or both, the people had come. They'd come to hear the premiere of Lady Kate Hunter's first symphony.

She couldn't quite believe it. Even now, after months to prepare herself, she couldn't quite fathom that she was only minutes away from hearing her greatest musical endeavor performed in front of an audience.

Mr. Lucero, owner of the theater had been surprised, and notably hesitant after learning the symphony brought to him for consideration had been composed by a woman, but in the end he'd announced that the "unfortunate gender of the composer" would not deter him from bringing a masterpiece to light.

The "unfortunate gender" bit she could have done without, but "a masterpiece" quite made up for it. Having her dream come true more more than made up for it. than made up for it.

Having another another dream come true, she corrected. dream come true, she corrected.

As the chandeliers were raised, Kate looked about her, her heart swelling with happiness. There were Sophie and Alex, and Mirabelle and Whit, Evie and McAlistair, Mrs. Summers with her Mr. Fletcher. Lizzy was in attendance, and still blushing at the eyes Hunter's footman had been making at her earlier. Even her mother had a new suitor, the inestimable Lord Brentworth.

And here was she, Lady Katherine Hunter, with the prince of her dreams.

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CRITICS ARE CHARMED BY ALISSA JOHNSON!

A CHRISTMAS BALL "Three charming authors invite you to the Hartwell House holiday ball, where just about anything can happen-and does!-to the delight of readers who enjoy short, light, delicious love stories that encourage them to feel the pleasure of the season."

-RT Book Reviews

"I thoroughly enjoyed each of these wonderful Regency romance stories. Each author has penned a tale that you will find yourself wishing were longer...each of these fine authors have more than done their job in this fantastic anthology."

-Night Owl Romance

McALISTAIR'S FORTUNE "Johnson delights while touching hearts as she puts an unlikely pair of engaging characters into a witty plot and a lively adventure."

-RT Book Reviews

"Ms. Johnson brings together a spirited and original heroine determined to pave her own path and a hero who provides the adventure of a lifetime while contending with their differences in social station and his past. It's an engaging romance that will send readers to Ms. Johnson's backlist for other exciting reads."

-Fresh Fiction

TEMPTING FATE "Johnson follows her debut with a delightful spin-off. Her rapier wit and comedic timing lure readers into a romance that proves laughter is best shared with those you love."

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"She had me hooked from the beginning. Her voice is just terrific..."

-The Good, the Bad, and the Unread

AS LUCK WOULD HAVE IT "[A] triumph of wit and pa.s.sion."

-Chicago Tribune

"Quite enjoyable...lively and fun."

-The Good, the Bad, and the Unread