"I know you believe that, but the fact is, your father is dead. You have your own life to consider, Royal. I can't believe the old duke would wish you to do something that might make you unhappy."

"My father's greatest desire was to rebuild Bransford Castle and restore our family's fortune. That is all that mattered to him. He would do anything to make that happen and he expected the same of me."

Sherry made no reply.

"Look, it isn't as if most people don't marry for the same sort of reasons-money, power, social position. Very few people are fortunate enough to marry for love."

Sherry sat up on the bench. "Ah, so you admit to having delicate feelings for Miss Moran."

Feelings for certain. Lust, need, physical yearning. He wasn't entirely sure what else was involved. "I admit I feel a strong attraction. That is all it will ever be and I intend to put an end even to that."

"Well, then, I wish you every success. You have made clear how important this is."

Royal glanced at the clock on the mantel. "I have to go." He picked up his coat and shrugged it on, then started for the door. "Perhaps I'll see you at the club later this evening."

"Oh, you will. I intend to regain some of the money I lost to that rogue, St. Michaels, the last time I was there."

Dillon St. Michaels was one of their closest friends. Along with Royal and Sherry, he was one of the Oarsmen, a group of former Oxford sculling team members who had, over the years, formed an invincible bond.

Royal left the bedroom and Sheridan followed him out. The ducal coach waited out front as the butler opened the door and Royal descended the steep front-porch stairs. "Can I give you a lift?" he asked Sherry.

"Not necessary. I'll see you tonight."

Royal climbed into the coach and fell heavily onto the seat.

His task was set, his duty clear.

"Meadowbrook," he called up to the driver and closed his eyes, dreading what was to come.

Lily answered with dread the summons she had received, and now stood in the sumptuous Scarlet Drawing Room with the duke and the Caulfield family. Half an hour ago, Royal had met with Henry Caulfield and formally asked for his daughter's hand. The meeting was over, the happy news just announced. All that remained were the final negotiations that would make the betrothal official.

Next to Matilda Caulfield, Lily stood with her spine erect, a smile pasted on her lips.

"I couldn't be happier, my boy!" Henry clapped Royal on the back. "You'll make a fine husband for my beautiful girl." Henry grinned, his bald head glistening in the gaslight of the crystal chandelier in the drawing room, lit to banish the darkness of the gray, dismal day.

Cousin Henry was a good foot shorter than the duke, with bushy brown muttonchop whiskers lightened by a touch of gray.

"Winston!" he called out to the butler through the open drawing-room door. "Fetch a bottle of my finest champagne. This calls for a celebration!"

Lily's stomach churned. She flicked a glance at Royal whose smile looked carved into his face.

The champagne arrived amid Jocelyn's and Matilda's joyous chatter. Lily nodded and smiled as if she could actually hear what they were saying through the buzzing in her ears. Henry stood next to Royal, the grin still fixed on his face.

Champagne goblets were filled and lifted in a toast and Lily forced herself to take a swallow, though it was difficult to get the bubbles past the thick lump in her throat.

Royal had looked at her only once, as she had offered her congratulations to him and to Jo. He'd been stiffly formal and utterly remote and Lily wanted to cry.

Instead, she drank champagne and listened to the plans being made for a huge engagement party.

"We can hold the ball here at Meadowbrook," Matilda said, her broad face split with a brilliant smile. "His Grace can make the formal announcement that night."

"I don't want to wait too long," Jocelyn said, eager to taste the sweetness of becoming the new queen of society.

"We'll schedule it for the end of next month," Matilda suggested, "if that is agreeable to the duke. That should be time enough to send out the invitations and make the necessary arrangements."

Royal gave a slight nod of his head.

Matilda turned to her daughter. "Oh, isn't it just wonderful, dear? Your father and I are simply thrilled for you."

Jocelyn looked up at the duke and smiled. "You've made me so happy, Royal."

His lips curved, and Lily found herself staring at them, remembering the heat of his mouth over hers, the erotic taste of him, the hot sensations his kisses stirred.

"As happy as you have made me," he said, bringing Jocelyn's gloved hand to his lips and kissing the back.

Lily felt sick to her stomach. She had known this was going to happen, known Royal had no more choice in the matter than she did. Dear God, how could she have been so foolish as to fall in love with him!

Her heart jerked. For the first time she realized it was true. She was in love with the Duke of Bransford, had been in love even before their heated encounter in the carriage. She had been mad to follow her feelings when she had known from the start the pain it would bring.

"Oh, it is just so exciting," Matilda went on.

"We'll have our solicitors work out the details," Henry said to the duke. "I believe the rest will occur in due course."

Matilda floated forward. "Would you care to join us for supper, Your Grace? It would certainly be our honor to include you."

"I'm afraid I have to decline. I have a previous engagement."

Her lips pursed as if she had bitten into something sour. "Another time, then."

"Of course," he said, but he didn't look too eager.

The conversation continued for another half hour. During that time, Lily made her farewells and escaped upstairs. Forcing down her emotions, she quickly penned a note to Royal about the meeting she had arranged with her uncle, then tried to decide if she dared to give it to him now or wait and send it to his town house.

In the end, as she stood at the top of the stairs and heard him bidding his hosts farewell, she made her way down to the entry and waited out of sight in the hall. As Royal approached the entry, Lily hurried out of the shadows, accidentally stumbled into him and shoved the note into his hand.

"Forgive my clumsiness, Your Grace," she said.

His fingers closed round the note. "Not at all. It was my fault entirely."

Lily kept walking, disappearing back down the hall. Darting into a drawing room that faced the front of the house, she ran to the window in time to see Royal reading the note as he climbed aboard his carriage.

The message asked him to meet her at the Fat Ox Tavern in Bunbury, St. Giles, twelve o'clock noon on the morrow. At least in a place like that, she wouldn't have to worry about anyone seeing them together.

And Uncle Jack would be waiting, as he had agreed.

Lily found herself praying fervently the duke would not come.

Lily sat in a dimly lit corner of the Fat Ox Tavern next to her uncle Jack. Though the taproom was noisy, the air smoky, the table Jack chose sat slightly apart from the rest, in a quieter place where it was easy to speak and yet no one would be able to hear their conversation.

"You think he'll come?" Jack asked.

In her heart she believed he would. Royal wanted justice for his father. He would be there, even though Lily fervently hoped he would not.

It was a minute before the hour of noon when the duke walked into the tavern, tall and impressive, even in the plain brown riding breeches and full-sleeved shirt that flashed beneath his long brown woolen cloak.

He paused for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Jolly approached him and pointed to the table they occupied at the rear of the tavern.

"Thank you," he said and started striding in that direction.

Jack looked him over as he approached, studying him with the skill of a confidence artist assessing his quarry. "Quite a looker, ain't he?"

She shrugged, but Jack had a way of seeing right into the heart of a person.

"Anything else you want to tell me, little girl?"

Lily steeled herself. "I told you everything, Uncle Jack. The duke is marrying my cousin. We're friends. That is all."

He didn't say more, just cast her a dubious glance and rose from his chair at the table.

"Jack Moran," he said as the duke walked up.

"Royal Dewar," said the duke, omitting the use of his title, which seemed appropriate under the circumstances. Jack hailed a serving wench with big brown eyes and even bigger breasts who fetched each of them a tankard of ale.

"Lily says you're a friend of hers," Jack said to the duke as they each took a seat. "Since I love the girl more than my own life, I'd be happy to help one of her friends. What can I do for you, Duke?"

The maid arrived just then, set the tankards of ale down on the scarred wooden table and Royal flipped her a coin.

"Thank ye, sweet thing," the tavern maid said with a grin, stuffing the coin between her plump breasts.

Royal took a drink, Jack did the same, and both men set their pewter mugs down on the table. "I'm hoping you may be able to help me see justice done," Royal said.

Jack chuckled. "Now, that would be a first."

For the next half hour, Royal filled her uncle in on Preston Loomis and how he had convinced an ailing old man to trust him with his fortune.

"He's right here in London," Royal said, "living off his ill-gotten gains. There's a good chance his real name is Dick Flynn. Have you ever heard of him?"

Jack's bushy eyebrows slammed together. "Flynn, is it? Oh, I've heard of the blighter. Knew him some years back. No loyalty, that man, not even to his friends. He was a bad sort, was Dick. I heard he was dead, killed by one of his own men."

"Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not."

Jack took a swig of his ale, set the mug back down on the table. "Old Dick always was a cagey sort. Wouldn't surprise me if he was still alive and kickin'." Jack scratched his chin, clean shaven in deference to his meeting with the duke. "So what did you have in mind?"

Royal leaned back in his chair, the ladder back groaning beneath his weight. "I'm not exactly sure. I hoped perhaps you might know a way we could get back some of the money he stole from my father."

Lily spoke up just then. "I was thinking we might do some sort of a lottery scam, Uncle Jack. Or perhaps a pyramid of some kind."

Jack's dark gaze turned razor sharp. "I have to be honest, luv, nothing I've done has been in the league with what you'd need for a man in Loomis's position. From what you say, the man runs in very high circles." He sipped from his mug of ale. "But I might know someone who'd be interested in the job."

"Who?" Royal asked.

"It isn't just a matter of who. It's a matter of how. Whatever scheme we came up with would have to be financed. There'd be a mob to hire, clothes to fit them out. We'd need people we could trust on the inside-that means you and some of your friends would have to get involved. Would you want to risk your sterling reputation, Your Grace, by throwing your lot in with a bunch of confidence men? You'd be ruined if something went wrong and you got nabbed."

Royal looked him straight in the eye. Lily had a feeling he'd do whatever it took to vindicate his father. "That's a chance I'm willing to take."

Jack nodded his approval. "Then maybe I know someone who could do what you need done-if the price was right."

"How much?"

"Half the take."

"Ten percent," the duke said.

"He won't talk to you unless you agree to help with the con and give him at least twenty-five percent."

Royal didn't hesitate. "Done."

Uncle Jack grinned. Lily had the feeling he'd been bored staying out of trouble for so long. "I'll send word as soon as I can set up a meet."

Royal rose from his chair. "I am indebted to you both."

Jack and Lily stood up, too. "Hold your thanks till all of this is done and you're countin' your money, Duke," Jack said.

Lily gathered her courage and looked into Royal's face. There was something in his eyes, something sweet and yearning that made her heart squeeze.

"Thank you, Lily," he said softly.

"You saved my life. I am glad to help."

He held her gaze a moment more, then whirled away and strode out of the taproom.

Lily sank back down in her chair, her heart beating heavily.

Jack eyed her with dark speculation. "So that's the way of it."

Lily's gaze remained on the doorway where Royal had disappeared. "Yes..." she whispered, knowing it was useless to deny it any longer. "I'm afraid it is."

Thirteen.

"I'm bored." Jocelyn trailed a finger along the windowsill in her bedroom. "I want to go out and dance. I want to have fun and not come home until the wee hours of the morning."