"Yes, but until now I couldn't fathom why you could not have waited a few more weeks until our return. Now I know why, so all is well."

When the men returned, tea and sandwiches were served, all four of them sharing a convivial bit of conversation over the satisfying snack.

During the meal, Julianna learned one thing: Maris was very happy in her marriage, her little sister sending frequent, smiling glances toward her new husband, who returned them with equal affection and intensity. If only Rafe and I had that kind of bond, Julianna mused. For in spite of the fact that Rafe was once again sharing her bed, little else about their relationship had changed.

But she would not dwell on that now. She had this visit and the holiday to enjoy, and she planned to do so with enthusiasm.

Christmas day proved to be a delight, with an array of delectable foods and unbridled frivolity. William's family welcomed Julianna and Rafe with an easy manner, making only a brief comment about Rafe's recent ascension to the nobility before quietly accepting him into the fold. As for Julianna's ripening figure, any suspicions remained unspoken, leaving her to share the news about the baby in her own way and time. With everyone in a festive mood, she let herself relax and make merry, content to pretend for those few hours that everything was right in the world, and that her cares and worries were far, far away.

Over the week to follow, she and Maris spent hours catching up on all they had missed during their time apart, while Rafe and William either rode out across the snow-dusted fields or else retreated into the warmth of William's office to talk about the war or the economy.

Meals were exceedingly pleasant, filled with fine food and interesting talk, the evenings taken up with singing, charades, and card games.

At night, Julianna and Rafe shared a room, sleeping contentedly in each other's arms. Infinitely gentle, Rafe made love to her, taking care not to be overheard as if he knew how uncomfortable it would make her feel there in her sister's home.

Twelfth Night came and went, and with it arrived the end of their sojourn to the country. Yet on the last day before their scheduled departure, Julianna found herself wishing they might remain longer. Or at least that she might remain longer, since she knew business matters awaited Rafe back in London, matters that could not be indefinitely delayed.

Alone in their bedchamber before dinner, she waited for the right moment to speak.

"Shall we go down?" Rafe asked, tugging at the sleeve of his tobacco-brown superfine coat as he strolled from the adjoining dressing room.

Trailing the tip of a fingernail across the top of the polished walnut dressing table, Julianna shifted in her seat to face him. "Yes, in just a moment. First, I thought we might have a word."

He met her gaze with an inquiring expression. "Oh, about what? And may I say that you look especially lovely this evening. That color becomes you."

She cast a quick downward glance at her vibrant sapphire shot-silk gown before forcing her eyes upward again. "Thank you, my lord. I am glad you approve."

"I do, most wholeheartedly," he assured her with a smile. "Though I don't know if I will ever get completely used to hearing myself referred to as 'my lord,' particularly by you."

"You will, since that is who you are now." Hugging her blue-and-gold patterned shawl closer around her shoulders, she continued. "We have had a fine time these past several days, I think."

"Very fine. It's been a good holiday."

She nodded. "I know you cannot delay your return to the city. I realize you are quite busy."

"Busy enough, though the time away has been manageable."

"I am not constrained by any such restrictions, however, which is why I thought I might remain here a while longer."

"What?" His voice lowered to a graveled rumble.

"It is so peaceful here in the countryside, so relaxing," she rushed on, playing her fingers over the edge of her shawl. "I love being with Maris, and she would be a great comfort to me as my confinement draws near."

"Your confinement is three months away."

She dipped her chin. "Yes, which is why I thought I would stay through the spring."

A glower as black and formidable as a rain-soaked thundercloud descended over his brow. "Out of the question. Now, we'll be late if we do not go below for dinner."

"But Rafe-"

"But nothing, madam. The conversation is over."

Straightening her back, she laid a hand over her gently rounded middle. "It is not over. I wish to remain with my sister."

"You mean you wish to be separated from me. Well, I will not permit that, so put the notion out of your mind. We will return to London tomorrow as planned. Both of us."

"You are spinning this all out of proportion. I merely wish to stay here until the baby is born."

"Do you? And will you return immediately after the child comes?"

"Yes, I...well, yes, after I recover my health."

"And how many months will that take? Three, six, a year? No, Julianna, you are my wife and your place is at my side. If your sister wishes to visit you in London, she is most welcome."

"She is a newlywed. She cannot be away from William that long. How would it look?"

"How would it look for you, since you are also newly married?"

She bit the corner of her lip, realizing he had a valid point. But he was mistaken about her wish to leave him; such an idea had never entered her thoughts. All she wanted was a little time to relax in the comfort of her sister's companionship, to allay her fears as she prepared for the birth of her child and all the momentous changes the baby would bring to her life.

All she had succeeded in doing, though, was to make Rafe angry.

"I simply need some time," she said, trying to explain.

He raised a critical brow. "Yes, we've established that, I believe. Once the baby comes, should you still find yourself needing time, perhaps other arrangements can be made."

The breath left her lungs. "What do you mean?"

"You will always be my wife and nothing will change that save death. Couples separate, however, and if you find you cannot stand to dwell under the same roof as I, then you may go. Our child, of course, will remain with me."

A pain burst inside her chest at his threat, radiating outward like an exploding star. "I will never leave my baby."

"Then I suggest you find a way to continue our cohabitation." His spine unyielding, he extended an arm. "We are most definitely late now. Let us descend before your sister and brother-in-law come in search. And smile unless you wish them to know something is amiss."

Half numb and no longer the least bit hungry, Julianna stood. Laying a hand on Rafe's arm, she forced her lips to curve upward, when what she really longed to do was cry.

An icy sliver of wind crept beneath the collar of Rafe's heavy, many-caped greatcoat, making him wish he was inside the coach instead of riding beside it. But at present he preferred suffering in the cold to being confined in the landau with Julianna.

So she wants to leave me, does she?

His jaw clenched at the thought. Despite the fact that nearly a day had passed since her announcement that she wished to remain behind with her sister, her words still had the power to slice him to the marrow. Oh, she claimed their separation would only be temporary, but weeks apart had a way of turning into months and even years.

And here he'd thought matters between them were improving. Imagined-erroneously it would now seem-that Julianna was taking pleasure in their marriage. Their union had not been an easy one from the start, he conceded, but with her return to his bed, he'd been convinced she felt something more for him than mere duty.

Lately he'd been toying with the notion that she might even be coming to love him. But last night's blunt declaration had swept away any such illusions. His hands tightened on the reins for an instant before he forced himself to relax, concerned he might unsettle his mount.

Casting a glance toward the coach window, he let his gaze rove over Julianna's regal profile, a pretty ermine-trimmed hat framing her dusky cheeks. A hard knot squeezed in his chest, struck as he always was by the dark allure of her beauty. But his reaction went far deeper than the surface, since he knew the woman who lay beneath. The soft, sweet, gentle being who possessed a core of indomitable strength and bravery, who fought for her beliefs and wasn't afraid to stand up and protect those she cared for in spite of the consequences.

A woman to be admired. A woman to be loved.

And I do love her, he realized.

After Pamela, he'd never expected to feel deeply for any woman again, but quite without his knowledge, the emotion had crept upon him and taken his heart unawares.

Sighing, he dipped his head against the wind. What a sorry pass, he mused, loving a woman who does not love me.

Perhaps he should have let her stay with Maris and William, since that had been her wish. But until his plans for St. George came to fruition and the man was rendered harmless, he could not risk Julianna's safety. She might chafe under his restrictions, but she and their child must be protected at all costs.

Nor was he about to let her take their child and move away after the babe was born. He remembered how much he'd longed for his father when he'd been a boy, how he'd had to content himself with infrequent visits and moments together that never seemed long enough.

My child will know both his parents, he vowed, no matter the difficulties between Julianna and myself.

Gazing at her again, he sighed and rode on.

Chapter Twenty-three.

OH, THOSE LOOK darling!" Julianna declared, taking a step back so she could get a better view of the cheery, sunshine-yellow draperies that a pair of housemaids had just finished hanging over the nursery windows.

With careful planning and patience, the new space was finally nearing completion. In the two months since her and Rafe's return to Town, Julianna had devoted herself to converting the dark, musty third-floor attic into a haven for the baby who would soon enter their lives.

Having received Rafe's blessing to make any changes she wished, she'd hired a crew of skilled carpenters, craftsmen, and painters to create a nursery, bedroom, and a playroom that any child would love. Following her direction, the men had done amazing work, literally transforming the old, drafty environs into a connecting trio of warm, sunny, yet infinitely cozy rooms.

Now, all that remained was seeing to the final details, little things such as hanging the last of the curtains and storing blankets, toys, clothes, and nappies. As for the furniture, a wide, exquisitely made rosewood cradle occupied a place just far enough from the fireplace to keep the baby warm without overheating him, while a walnut changing table and cane-back rocking chair were arranged atop a pair of nearby Aubusson carpets.

In the playroom, a huge hobby horse stood at the ready in one corner. When the toy had first arrived, she'd shaken her head at its impracticality, knowing it would be a pair of years at least before the baby was big enough to enjoy the gift. But Rafe insisted that his son or daughter would love looking at the horse, even if the child couldn't ride it for a while. And in that, she knew he was right.

Laying a hand on her protruding belly, she surveyed the nursery with its soothing peach walls and wide, sun-filled windows. The baby kicked, tiny feet pummeling beneath her ribs for a long minute. Despite the discomfort, the baby's increasingly frequent movements reassured her that all was well.

With less than a month of her pregnancy left, though, she found herself battling back worries about what was to come. After all, she'd watched her mother die in childbirth and knew all too well the terrible things that could occur.

But everything will be fine, she told herself. For me and my child.

She wished she had someone in whom she could confide, but she didn't want to unnecessarily alarm her friends or her sister by voicing her fears. And talking to Rafe these days was out of the question.

Since their return to London after the new year their relationship had grown increasingly strained. Rafe had even stopped coming to her bed at night. He claimed he did not wish to disturb her sleep, but she knew her personal comfort had little to do with his withdrawal. After their disagreement about her remaining in the country, he'd become more and more distant, until they once again found themselves living as virtual strangers.

Part of her wished to go to him and repair the rift, but his threats had chilled her, had kept her silent when she might otherwise have lowered her pride enough to ask him to come back.

"You may go," he'd said. "But our child will remain with me."

The words had stayed with her all these weeks, gnawing at her like a rat at a rope.

He cares naught for me, she thought. For all I know, he's taken another mistress.

Nausea rose at the idea, scalding the delicate lining of her throat. Wrapping an arm around her heavy middle, she forced her thoughts back to the task at hand.

"Be careful," she warned as the housemaids stepped down from their ladders.

Once again on solid ground, they curtseyed and smiled. "Yes, my lady, and thank you."

Returning their smiles, Julianna watched as the two young women moved to another set of windows to hang more draperies.

At least Maris will arrive next week, Julianna thought.

Of course, so would most of the Ton, returned from their country estates to partake in the frivolity of a brand-new Season. Yet while the nobility danced and drank and cavorted until all hours, she would be here inside the townhouse readying herself to give birth.

Another bone of contention between herself and Rafe.

Last month, she had gone to him and asked if they could travel to his country house in Yorkshire, explaining how she longed for a bit of peaceful solitude. After a brief pause, he'd refused, telling her he had too much business in the city for them to leave.

"Besides," he said, "you will receive better medical care here in London."

And that had been the end of that.

She sighed. As much as she loved the new nursery and had her every need seen to here at the townhouse, she would have much preferred a respite in the countryside. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell the spring-sweet air in her nose, her shoes crushing the greening grass as she strolled through the fields, birdsong playing like a symphony on the wind.

But such was not to be.

If only there were somewhere to go, even for a few hours!

Of course, there was her townhouse on Upper Brook Street. She still owned it, even if it was locked up, the furniture shrouded in dust sheets.

But what was the point?

No, she decided, she would content herself by keeping busy with preparations for the baby. She had hats and booties to knit and embroidery to finish on the christening gown she was sewing from a length of delicate white moire silk.

I will be fine, she assured herself. I have nothing whatsoever to fear.

Where has he hidden them?

Blood thundered in Burton's temples, fury burning like a brand in his chest as he rifled through the contents of Hurst's desk. He'd already been through the man's bedroom, study, and library twice, searching every conceivable location for the fool's journals.

Yet nothing.

In the past four hours he'd searched every room in the townhouse, to no avail. The blighted things simply weren't here.

When he and Hurst arrived back in London earlier in the evening, Burton had set to questioning his old friend. Besotted as usual, Hurst had told him to look for the latest journal in his bedroom nightstand. The rest were stored in a trunk, he claimed. When they didn't turn up there, he'd suggested his study.

By the time Hurst began to seriously question Burton's interest in the diaries, it had been too late for him-the poison Burton put into his wine already beginning to paralyze his limbs and restrict his breathing. When Burton stopped by tomorrow and "discovered" his friend dead, the authorities would conclude Hurst had died of a heart seizure brought on by a life of excess and overindulgence.