"No."

"I am very glad of that."

"I am very glad you appeared to help me," she said, her voice quivering slightly.

Neville began to examine his left sleeve.

"Are you wounded?" she asked, chastising herself for not thinking of this sooner. "Did they hurt you?"

"Only a ripped sleeve," he said, fingering the sides of a long tear.

"But you are not hurt?"

"No."

"You must be a fine swordsman," she said.

He left his sleeve alone and looked at her. "The day I cannot defeat those three in a sword fight is the day I retire to the country and take up sheep farming. Come, I'll take you back to the Banqueting House."

"I want to go home," she declared, sounding like a child even to herself. "I have no wish to see Buckingham or anyone else from the court tonight."

"What about Lady Lippet? Or my delightful father?"

"Your father is probably engrossed in cards. I would rather not have to listen to Lady Lippet for a while."

"I could escort you home, if you would like, and we can send word to my father that you have gone."

She nodded her agreement. "Please, Neville, take me home."

Chapter 17.

"We should find a boat at the Privy Stair," Neville said, trying to maintain his composure. "Buckingham had one waiting. Sadly, he will have to find another way home."

"How do you know all this?" Arabella asked as she followed him toward the river.

"I happened upon young Wilmot at a propitious moment," he replied, commanding himself not to notice the subtle scent of her perfume wafting over him. Or to remember how she had clung to him. He marveled, too, at her matter-of-fact questions and self-possession. Other women would be weeping and helpless with fright.

Yet despite her outward calm, he heard the slight tremor in her voice, and he wanted to kiss away herdistress, yet feared that would be only self-indulgence.

"Apparently Buckingham saw me return without you from the garden and suspected you would be there alone," he explained. "He told Wilmot his plans, and the sot was too delighted by the fortuitous circ.u.mstance to keep quiet or to notice I was standing behind him."

"I am glad Wilmot wasn't with them."

"Do you think an additional sword would have enabled them to triumph over me?" Neville demanded as if mightily offended, and in truth, he was a little insulted by her evident doubt.

"It would have been four to one."

"The one was skilled and sober, and the four drunken louts."

"I did not mean to offend you. Indeed, I am very grateful that you are skilled and sober." She gave him a sidelong glance. "You are sober, my lord?"

"Much more so than Wilmot. He was too drunk to stand, which is why he remained behind."

"Then I thank heaven the king provides plenty of wine."

He chuckled softly and allowed his hand to squeeze hers a little tighter, telling himself that liberty was not too much to take, considering he had just saved her honor.

The scent of the river was strong now, and he could hear the wavelets striking the stone stairs. He was almost sorry they had reached the river, and now must leave the dark confines of the walk, but being alone with her was less important than getting her home to his father's house, where she would be safe.

And forever out of his reach.

As he had predicted, there was a boat waiting. It was powered by one man and illuminated by lamps in the bow and stern. There was a wide, cushioned seat in the bow, covered with a canopy, so that it was like a small tent.

The seat was as big as a bed, Neville realized, his rancor returning as he thought of what Buckingham might have done to Arabella there. The lone oarsman would never have dared to interfere.

"Ho, there, boatman!" he called out, leading her down the slick and slippery stairs and onto the boat.

The short, scruffy man in the stern of the small vessel scrutinized him. "Ye're not the duke."

"No. He has sent me on ahead with the lady." Before the boatman could say more, Neville handed him his last florin and gave him directions to the stairs closest to the earl's townhouse.

As the boatman unshipped his oars, Neville ducked beneath the tentlike canvas where Arabella waited.

"May I?" he asked before sitting beside her.

She nodded her a.s.sent, but when he went to do so, the boat b.u.mped into the steps, sending him tumbling into her lap. She gasped and shoved him away.

"I a.s.sure you, Arabella, I am not attempting to copy the duke," he said contritely as he moved, making the boat rock a little. He decided it might be wise to keep as much distance between them as possible."I know. I... I was startled."

"Still, you seem to have recovered quickly," he noted as the boat went out onto the river.

"Perhaps." She wrapped her arms about herself. "I wonder what your father will say?"

Neville wished he dared to take her into his embrace-only because he wanted to offer her warmth and comfort. "You intend to tell him?"

"Of course! Why not?"

"He will likely never let you leave the house again."

"I want to go home to Grantham anyway."

She sounded very determined, as if returning to Grantham were the dearest wish of her heart. He told himself he should be glad of that. "What of Cheddersby?"

"I'm sure he will recover from his infatuation."

"You think his feelings only infatuation?" A hope he should not have felt began to grow, as the embers of a blacksmith's forge glowed brighter from the bellows. He moved a little closer and caught the scent of her light perfume.

Roses. She smelled of roses. From now on, whenever he smelled roses, he would always think of her.

"Don't you?"

He smiled. "Yes. And I should warn you, Lady Arabella, that you are not the first to capture his heart."

"I thought not," she replied evenly.

"You do not sound particularly devastated. I thought you considered him a fine prospect."

"He is better than most," she replied, suddenly regarding him steadily with her disconcerting eyes. "What did the duke mean when he spoke of your father's plans?"

Neville considered what he should tell her.

If she went back to Grantham, this could well be the last time he would ever see her.

Why not tell her the truth? his heart prompted. Allow yourself this one thing: that she knows how you saved your father from his own extravagant ways.

For once, Neville listened to his heart. "When you marry, he is going to bequeath the bulk of his estate to you and your husband, whoever he may be."

She inched closer to him, her gaze anxiously searching his face. "That cannot be!"

He tried to ignore her tempting proximity. "I a.s.sure you, it is."

"He... he cannot. He would not."

"He ought not, but he can and he would, for he thinks I am going to waste it on gambling and drinking and women.""Would you?"

"No," he replied with quiet gravity. "Not when I created it."

"You created it?"

"Yes." He was set on the path to the truth now; he would not turn back. "When I first arrived in London, I was immediately visited by my father's bankers. They brought me proof he had been overspending his income for some time and was deeply in debt. Whenever they wrote to him, he replied that they had to be mistaken. He said it was not possible that his funds could be so limited, or if it was, it was their fault and he would have them arrested. They wanted me to urge him to take out a mortgage on the estate before his creditors compelled them to declare him insolvent. I knew they must be speaking the truth about my father's reaction to their pleas." Neville's voice grew bitter. "He is the most stubborn man in England, and he would never believe his estate could be taken from him by bankers or creditors, seeing that he had held on to it during the Interregnum."

"He always said he was so respected that even Cromwell would not touch him," Arabella said.

Neville laughed sardonically as he watched other boats, lantern-lit, on the river. "That wasn't what kept him safe. Cromwell didn't know whether he was friend or foe. My father is very adept at grumbling and complaining in private, then being smooth as honey to a man's face. Did you not wonder why the king didn't look more annoyed when my father confronted him at the tennis court?"

Arabella stared at him in amazement.

"Nevertheless, I was still relieved he was not removed to the Tower, for there was no telling what he might actually say."

"So what did you say to the bankers?" she prompted.

"Something had to be done, or my father would be bankrupt. And I, too, of course," he added.

"Therefore, I suggested to the bankers that they should loan me a sum of money. Fortunately, they agreed."

Arabella envisioned Neville attempting to persuade a group of middle-aged men to loan him money, his only collateral his own attributes. It was not so difficult to believe they would.

"Taking that capital, I... invested it."

"In what?"

His smile grew rueful. "Cards and dice, and some on a ship bound for the New World. Fortunately, all three ventures prospered, enough to stave off the creditors and pay some off completely. Then I invested in two more ships and a third that is still at sea. So you see, that part of my reputation-that I gamble-is not unearned."

"What of the other parts?"

"Lady Arabella, you astonish me. Would you know all my secrets?"

"I knew your bad reputation was undeserved!"

His low chuckle seemed to mock her. "That depends upon what one means by 'bad.' "

"Why did you not tell your father this?""Because he would have interfered, and that would have been disastrous for both of us. In the meantime, my father was secretly put on an allowance, and I was held accountable for the lack of forthcoming money."

He reclined upon the cushions and stared at the canvas covering. "I knew he would blame me and not question the bankers or his steward further."

"That is a great pity, Neville," she said softly. "You should have told him what you have done for him when he revealed his plans regarding his will to you."

"He most certainly would not have believed me. He would have claimed I was lying to protect my own interests."

"Perhaps he will listen to the bankers."

"Probably he would not believe them, either. He would still hate me. Yet he is no more of a saint than I, Arabella, and very much a hypocrite. For all his criticism of me, did he ever tell you of his mistresses? As strange as it may seem, Lady Lippet was one of them."

"She denies it."

"She is a liar."

Arabella found that easy to believe, too. "She thought I was a fool to refuse the king."

"So would most people."

Neville raised himself on his elbows to regard her, and she was surprised by the resolve in his face. "You will say nothing of what I have told you to anyone."

"But Neville-!"

He sat up and shifted his body close beside her. Reaching out, he placed his finger against her lips. "Not a single word. To anybody."

He did not move away immediately. Instead, he traced her parted lips with his fingertip, his own so very, very close. Instinctively, she sucked his finger into her mouth.

With a low exhalation, he slowly withdrew it.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she whispered, embarra.s.sed and unsure what had prompted her to do that.