"But my tooth," Harriet said desperately. "What about my fossils?"

"Those fossils have been buried in stone since before the Deluge," Effie said offhandedly. "They can wait a few more months for you to examine them."

Felicity laughed. "She has a point, Harriet. And you are going to be a viscountess. You really should learn something about conducting yourself in Society. Not only for St. Justin's sake, but for the sake of his family. You will want his parents to approve of you, will you not?"

"Well, yes. Yes, of course." Harriet frowned. And then a thought struck her. In London she would have an opportunity to research her tooth. She might be able to discover if it was truly unique. "I suppose I can take a few weeks off to go to Town and gain some polish."

"Excellent." Aunt Effie gave her an approving smile.

Harriet nodded. "Very well. I will write to St. Justin and tell him what is happening." She brightened. "Perhaps after this crisis with his father is past, he will be able to join us there."

"Perhaps. I would not count on it, however," Effie said, her eyes craftier than ever. "In fact, my dear, I believe it would be best if we did not say too much about your, uh, engagement."

Harriet looked at her in shock. "Not say too much about it? What on earth do you mean by that, Aunt Effie?"

Effie cleared her throat and delicately patted her lips with her napkin. "The thing is, my dear, there has been no official announcement. As far as we know, St. Justin has not even bothered to send notices to the newspapers as of yet. It would be highly presumptuous of us to do so. So until he takes care of the mattera"

Harriet lifted her chin. "I believe I am beginning to understand you, Aunt Effie. Mrs. Stone has put some doubts in your brain, has she not? You are not entirely certain but that I have indeed been ravished and abandoned."

"It is not just Mrs. Stone who has given me cause to worry," Effie admitted sadly. "Your fate is all everyone in the village is discussing. The local people who claim they know St. Justin all too well believe he is playing some cruel game. You must admit, this business of him leaving the neighborhood on such short notice does not bode well."

"For heaven's sake, his father is very ill," Harriet retorted.

"So he claims," Effie murmured as Mrs. Stone entered the room with a platter of toast. "But we really do not know that for certain, do we?"

Harriet glowered at her furiously. "St. Justin would not lie about a thing like that. I begin to see your aim here, Aunt Effie. You are afraid we cannot depend upon St. Justin to do the proper thing."

"Wella"

"You are hoping we can go to London and pretend that nothing has happened. Do you expect to be able to hide the fact that I am engaged to him? Or conceal the rumors about what happened here in the caves?"

Effie gave her a steely look. "You are an heiress now, Harriet. There is much that can be hushed up because of that. Furthermore, the rumors of your ravishment may not follow us to London. Upper Biddleton is very far removed from Society."

"I will not allow you to hush up my engagement," Harriet declared. "It is a fact, whether you believe it or not. I will go to London in order to learn how to handle myself in Society and for reasons of my own. But I will not step foot out of Upper Biddleton if you think you are going to put me on the Marriage Mart as an innocent young heiress. Even if I were not engaged, I am far too old for that role."

"Bravo," exclaimed Felicity. "Well said, Harriet. I will be the innocent young heiress and you can be the older woman of mystery. And the beauty of it all is that neither of us will have to work to find husbands. We can simply enjoy ourselves. It is settled, then. We are all going to Town."

"I do hope," Effie said with a pointed look at Felicity, "that we will not find ourselves dealing with any more disastrous incidents such as occurred here in Upper Biddleton. One ruined female in this family is quite enough."

Gideon saw the letter addressed to him the minute he walked into the morning room at Hardcastle House. He plucked it off the silver salver that contained the day's post. He knew before he even broke the seal that the letter was from Harriet. Her handwriting was like everything else about her, full of energy, highly original, and distinctly feminine.

He realized immediately that the most likely reason for Harriet to be writing to him so soon was to inform him that she feared she was pregnant.

Gideon was aware of a deep surge of satisfaction and possessiveness at the prospect. He conjured up an image of Harriet rounded and soft with pregnancy and another of her holding his babe in her arms. They were both extremely pleasant pictures.

He could just imagine Harriet sketching a fossil with one hand while she held an infant to her breast with the other.

In the beginning Gideon had told himself it would be better if she were not with child. She would have enough to deal with as it was, just facing the prospect of marriage. He knew it was a very unsettling notion for her.

For his part, Gideon had wanted to put some of the gossip in Upper Biddleton to rest, if possible. For Harriet's sake, it would have been nice to be able to make it clear to all concerned that there would be no rush to the altar.

She was, after all, a rector's daughter.

But a hasty marriage with a special license was quite acceptable, he decided. It had the decided advantage of making it possible for him to move Harriet straight into his bed. The thought sent a rush of heat through his veins.

"Good morning, Gideon."

Gideon glanced up from Harriet's letter as his mother, Margaret, Countess of Hardcastle, floated through the doorway. A light, fragile-looking woman who was, Gideon well knew, much stronger than she appeared, Margaret always seemed to hover an inch or so above the ground. There was an airy, delicate quality about her that was well suited to her silver hair and the pastel colors she favored.

"Good morning, madam." Gideon waited until the butler had seated the countess and then he sat down at the table. He placed Harriet's letter next to his knife. He would read it later. He had not yet told his parents about his engagement.

As usual, Gideon's father had rallied nicely shortly after learning that his son had arrived at Hardcastle House late last night. Gideon fully expected him to appear at breakfast.

"I see you have a letter, dear." Lady Hardcastle nodded to the footman, who poured coffee for her. "Anyone I know?"

"You will know her soon enough."

"Her?" Lady Hardcastle's spoon fluttered in midair over her coffee cup. She gave Gideon a birdlike look of inquiry.

"I have not yet had a chance to tell you that I am engaged, have I?" Gideon smiled briefly at his mother. "But as my father appears to have come through his recent crisis with flying colors, I probably should mention the fact."

"Engaged. Gideon, are you serious?" Some of the birdlike quality evaporated from Lady Hardcastle's eyes. It was replaced by shock and uncertainty and, perhaps, a hint of hope.

"Very serious."

"I am so relieved to hear this, even if I do not know her. I had begun to fear that your experience in the past had put you off the idea of marriage permanently. And as your dear brother is no longer with usa""

"I am the only one who can provide an heir for Hardcastle," Gideon concluded bluntly. "You need not remind me, madam. I am well aware that my father has been increasingly concerned about my failure to do my duty in that respect."

"Gideon, must you always put the worst possible interpretation on your father's remarks?"

"Why not? He puts the worst possible interpretation on mine."

There was a commotion in the doorway at that moment. The Earl of Hardcastle appeared. He was escorted by one of the footmen, who was holding his arm, but it was obvious his lordship was feeling much better. The fact that he was bothering to come downstairs to breakfast was ample proof that he was no longer experiencing the pains in his chest that had made him send for Gideon.

"What's this?" Hardcastle demanded. His tawny golden eyes, so like those of his son, were slightly dimmed with age, but they were still remarkably fierce. The earl was a year short of seventy but his posture was that of the athletic young man he had once been. He was big, almost as large as Gideon. His thinning hair was as silver as that of his wife's. His broad, strong-boned face had softened very little over the years. "You've gone and gotten yourself engaged?"

"Yes, sir." Gideon rose from the table to help himself to the hot dishes on the sideboard.

"About time." Hardcastle took his seat at the head of the table. "d.a.m.nation, man. You might have bothered to mention it earlier, you know. It is not exactly a minor event. You are the last of the line and your mother and I were beginning to wonder when you would do something about it."

"It is done." Gideon selected sausages and eggs and went back to his chair. "I shall arrange for my fiance to visit as soon as possible."

"You could have told us first, before you made an offer," Lady Hardcastle said reprovingly.

"There was no time." Gideon forked up a sausage. "The engagement took place with no advance notice out of necessity. The wedding may have to take place just as quickly."

The earl's eyes filled with fury. "Good G.o.d, man. Are you saying you have compromised another young woman?"

"I know neither of you believes me, but I never compromised the first. However, I am indeed guilty of compromising the second." Gideon felt his mother's shock and his father's anger pouring over him in waves. He concentrated on his sausages. "It was an accident. But it is done. And there will be a marriage."

"I do not believe this," the earl said tightly. "As G.o.d is my witness, I do not believe you have ruined another young woman."

Gideon's fingers tightened on his knife, but he kept his mouth shut. He had vowed he would not quarrel with his father on this visit, but he knew now there had never been any real hope of avoiding a scene such as this. He and his father could not be in the same room together for more than five minutes without exploding into a quarrel.

Lady Hardcastle gave Gideon a quelling look and then turned to her irate husband in concern. "Calm yourself, my dear. If you carry on this way you will bring on another attack."

"It will be his fault if I collapse at this very table." The earl jabbed a fork in Gideon's direction. "Enough. Give us the details and spare us any further suspense."

"There is not much to tell," Gideon said quietly. "Her name is Harriet Pomeroy."

"Pomeroy? Pomeroy? That is the name of the last rector I appointed to Upper Biddleton." The earl glowered. "Any connection?"

"His daughter."

"Oh, my G.o.d," Lady Hardcastle breathed. "Another rector's daughter. Gideon, what have you done?"

Gideon smiled coldly as he slit the seal on Harriet's letter and opened it. "You must ask my fiance how it all came about. She takes full responsibility for everything. Now, if you will excuse me while I read her note, I shall soon be able to tell you whether we will be requiring a special license."

"Have you gotten the poor gel with child?" The earl stormed.

"Dear heaven," Lady Hardcastle whispered. Gideon frowned as he quickly scanned Harriet's letter.

My Dear Sir: By the time you read this I shall be in London learning how to be a proper wife to you. My Aunt Adelaide (you may recall my mentioning her) has taken control of her husband's money at last. She has summoned us all to Town. We are going to give Felicity her Season and Aunt Effie informs me that I shall be given a Social Polish which will enable me to avoid embarra.s.sing you in the future. It is the chief reason I have agreed to go.

To be perfectly truthful I would much prefer to stay here in Upper Biddleton. I am very excited about the tooth I discovered in our cavern. (I must remind you again to tell no one about it. Fossil thieves are everywhere.) But I understand that as a rector's daughter I lack a great deal of knowledge about how to go on in Society. As Aunt Effie says, you will need a wife who knows about such things. I trust I shall learn them quickly so that I can get back to my fossils.

I am hoping that while in London I shall be able to research and identify my tooth. It is a cheerful thought and makes the notion of the trip much more palatable.

We leave on the morrow. If you wish to reach me you may do so in care of my Aunt Adelaide. I have enclosed her direction. I pray your father is feeling better. Please extend my regards to your mother.

By the bye, about that Other Matter which so concerned you, allow me to tell you that you may cease worrying. There is no need for a hasty wedding.

Yrs.

Harriet.

d.a.m.n, Gideon thought as he quickly refolded the letter. He realized then just how much he had taken to the notion of a rushed wedding. "No. My fiance is not pregnant. Unfortunately. Something far more disastrous has occurred."

Lady Hardcastle blinked. "Good heavens. What could be worse?"

"They have taken her off to London to give her a social polish." Gideon wolfed down the last of his sausages and got to his feet. "As you are not dying, my lord," he said to his father, "I must be on my way at once."

"d.a.m.nation, Gideon, come back here," Hardcastle roared. "What is going on? Why are you rushing off to Town?"

Gideon paused impatiently in the doorway. "I cannot delay, sir. The thought of Harriet in London unsettles my nerves."

"Fustian." Lady Hardcastle frowned. "Nothing unsettles your nerves, Gideon."

"You do not know Harriet, madam."

Chapter Nine.

Gideon did not enjoy his clubs in the traditional way that most gentlemen did. For him they were not a refuge or a home away from home. Knowing that the moment he walked through the door six-year-old tales of ravished maidens, suicide, and mysterious death were immediately revived did not give him a fondness for club life.

Not that anyone had ever given Gideon the satisfaction of confronting him face-to-face with the accusations. He was considered far too dangerous for such an approach. There were those who well recalled the rapier duel in which he had received the scar that marred his features.

The event had happened over ten years earlier, but the witnesses were still quick to remind one and all that St. Justin had very nearly murdered his opponent, Bryce Morland, at the time.

Morland, those witnesses pointed out, had been St. Justin's friend since childhood and the duel itself had been nothing more than a sporting match between two young bloods. It had not been intended as a genuine challenge.

The devil alone knew what St. Justin might do in a real duel. He would certainly have no hesitation about killing the challenger.

Gideon recalled the events of that rapier duel with Morland all too clearly himself. It was not the blood dripping from the gaping wound on his face or the pain or the presence of witnesses that had stopped Gideon at the last moment when he recovered and managed to disarm Morland. It was Morland's cry for mercy.

He could still hear the words. For G.o.d 's sake, man, it was an accident.

In the heat of a sporting event that had turned into a real fencing duel, Gideon had not been at all certain the rapier thrust which had destroyed his face had been an accident. But everyone else was sure of it. After all, why would Morland want to kill St. Justin? There was no motive.

In the end, the damage had been done, Morland had screamed for mercy, and Gideon had known he could not kill a man in cold blood. He had removed the point of the rapier from Morland's throat and everyone had breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Three years later when the tale of Deirdre's ravishment and suicide had swept London, the tale of the duel had been revived and viewed in a dark light. The details of Randal's death were also reviewed. Questions were asked.

But the questions were always asked behind Gideon's back.

Gideon dropped into his clubs when he happened to be in Town for one reason and one reason only. They were an excellent source of information and he had a few questions he wished answered before he called on Harriet.

On his first night back in Town Gideon went up the steps and through the front door of one of the most exclusive clubs on St. James Street. He was not surprised by the ripple of interest and curiosity that went through the main room of the establishment as the members realized who had arrived.

It was always like this.

With a cool nod to a few of the older gentlemen he knew to be personal friends of his father's, Gideon took a seat near the fire. He sent for a bottle of hock and picked up a newspaper. He did not have long to wait before he was approached.

"I say, been a while since we've seen you in here, St. Justin. Rumor going round you've gotten yourself engaged. Any truth to it?"

Gideon glanced up from the paper. He recognized the portly, bald-headed gentleman as Lord Fry, a baron with estates in Hampshire. Fry was one of his father's old acquaintances from the earl's fossil-collecting days.

"Good evening, sir." Gideon kept his tone even but polite. "You may rest a.s.sured the rumor concerning my engagement is true. The notices will appear in tomorrow morning's papers."