It was as well, Nell thought, as she lay staring up at Charles Weston that Julian had warned her that he and his cousin could pass for twins. The man looking down at her reminded her forcibly of her husband, yet there were differences. Both were harsh-featured, but Julian was by far the handsomer of the two. They shared other similar features: their coloring, their eyes, the formidable chin and nose and the general shape of their faces. She suspected that someone who did not know either man very well could mistake them for each other, something she did not. There was an expression in Charles' eyes that troubled her...The lack of expression, she realized. Charles Weston's eyes were as cold and unforgiving as the North Sea in December with none of the warmth and humor that her husband's gaze possessed.

Weston smiled at her and she noted that the smile did not reach his eyes. She didn't think that she liked him and she certainly did not like the intimacy of their position. Struggling in his arms, Nell attempted to sit up, but he held her in an iron grip.

"Be still. That was a spectacular spill that you took. Give yourself a moment," he said.

Startled, she asked, "You saw me fall?"

"Indeed, I did. I drove up behind you a split second before you went flying over the mare's head. Now, let me take a look and see how much damage you've done." Despite Nell's protest, he removed her dashing emerald green hat with its saucy yellow feather and tossed it carelessly on the ground. With surprisingly gentle fingers he probed Nell's head, grunting when Nell winced and cried out as his fingers touched an area near her temple. Moving even more gently he examined the area. His examination finished, he flashed her a singularly attractive smile and said, "You'll live, my lady. You'll have some bruising, but the skin is not even broken. A day or two of rest and you'll be good as new."

"Thank you," Nell muttered, "but I could have told you that myself."

Hearing Nell's voice, Lady Diana rushed over. "Oh, Nell, tell me that you are not dead!" she begged, her pretty face full of anxiety. She dabbed a scrap of lace to the corners of her eyes. "Julian will kill me if something happened to you while you were in my care." A sob broke from her. "Why, oh, why did we decide on this wretched ride?"

"Mother, hush!" said Elizabeth, sending Nell an apologetic look. "It is no one's fault. It was an accident and as you can see Lady Wyndham is certainly not dead."

"Are you sure?" Lady Diana asked doubtfully, her big velvet-brown eyes fixed on Nell's wan face.

Nell smiled at her. "I am fine. I will, no doubt, be sore and bruised, but it is nothing to fret over." She glanced at Weston. "May I get up now?"

He studied her features a moment longer, then shrugged and rose to his feet. "Whatever my lady wishes." Reaching down he easily pulled Nell to her feet.

Her head ached and the world spun when Nell stood upright. She swayed and her bad leg crumpled beneath her; Lady Diana shrieked a warning and a pair of powerful arms swept Nell off her feet.

"I think," said Weston, holding Nell against his chest, "that you are not as fit as you think."

Her stomach roiling and her leg aching like fire, Nell's head drooped on his broad shoulder. "Perhaps, you are right," she admitted.

"What is to be done?" Lady Diana cried, wringing her hands and looking around helplessly. "How will we get her home? She cannot ride and Wyndham Manor is miles from here."

"I think you forget, my lady," said Weston dryly, "that Stonegate is only a few miles away; I shall take Lady Wyndham there in my curricle."

Lady Diana grabbed frantically at his arm. Alarm in her voice, she wailed, "Charles, are you mad? Julian will not like it at all."

Weston laughed. Not a very nice laugh, Nell thought. "Since when have I cared a farthing for what my esteemed cousin likes or does not like?"

Lady Diana moaned and disappeared into her scrap of lace.

Agreeing that Julian would not want to find her a guest of his cousin Charles, and paying no mind to her whirling head, Nell muttered, "It won't be necessary, Mr. Weston, for you to go to all that trouble. If you will set me down, I am sure that in a few moments I will be fine."

Ignoring her, Weston turned on his heels and said over his shoulder to Elizabeth, "Miss Forest, I beg you do something with your mother before I ring her pretty neck." He looked down at Nell who was struggling to escape his firm grasp. "And, you, my lady, quit wiggling around or I'll dump you on the ground for being such an ungrateful baggage."

Nell looked into his cold green eyes and immediately ceased her struggles. He meant it. Docile as a lamb, she allowed him to place her on the seat of the curricle.

Climbing into the curricle, Weston picked up the reins. Looking at the two grooms, shifting from foot to foot, he commanded, "One of you return to Wyndham Manor and inform your master of the accident. Assure him that his lady has not suffered any lasting harm, but that I have taken her to Stonegate to be tended by my stepmother until he can arrive with a suitable carriage to bring her home." Turning his attention to Lady Diana and Elizabeth, he added, "You and your remaining servant shall accompany us to Stonegate to await my dear cousin." He flashed a wintry smile. "You shall be Lady Wyndham's protection from my nefarious attentions. After all, everyone knows that I dare not be alone with any respectable woman without making an attempt to ruin her."

Clinging to the seat of the curricle, as Weston set his horses at a spanking trot, Nell fought to keep from disgracing herself by retching over the side of the vehicle. The fall had shaken her more than she had realized, certainly it had played havoc with her bad leg, and she tried to be grateful for Weston's assitance. It was difficult-knowing the estrangement between the families, she would have preferred just about anyone other than Charles Weston to have happened upon the scene.

Followed by Lady Diana, Elizabeth and the remaining groom, they traveled only a couple of miles along the road before turning off at the impressive stone gate that Nell assumed gave the estate its name. Another half mile of winding, forest-edged road and the curricle swept into a wide circular driveway. Pulling the horse to a stop before an elegant, three-story stone house of indeterminate age, Weston jumped down from the curricle. Walking around to the other side of the vehicle, he plucked Nell from her seat and effortlessly carried her up the three broad steps and strode across the stone terrace toward a pair of massive dark wooden doors with huge black iron hinges.

Leaving their groom to handle the horses, Lady Diana and Elizabeth followed right behind Weston. Three feet before they reached the doors, one of the doors swung open and a tall, cadaverous gentleman garbed in splendid black livery stood to the side, holding the door wide for Weston's entrance.

Without breaking stride, Weston walked into the house, saying to the tall man as he passed him, "Find my stepmother and tell her to come to the east salon. Also order some tea and refreshments for the ladies."

As if it was perfectly normal for the master to return home carrying in his arms an unknown female, the butler's face remained impassive. "It shall be done, sir, just as soon as I have seen to the ladies." Smiling at Nell, he said, "May I have your gloves, my lady?" Nell stripped them off and handed them to him. Turning to the other two women, he asked, "Lady Wyndham? Miss Forest?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, Garthwaite," exclaimed Lady Diana, giving him her gloves and riding crop. Elizabeth did the same. Both ladies then scurried down the long hallway to catch up with Weston's broad-shouldered form.

Her head and stomach having decided to behave, Nell glanced around her. Knowing his situation, Nell had expected Weston's home to reflect his squandered fortune, but such was not the case. So far she had seen nothing that bespoke a man on the brink of financial ruin. The driveway had contained no holes, nor ruts or other signs of poor upkeep, the vast expanse of lawns and shrubs surrounding the house had been meticulously trimmed and the house facade had appeared to be in excellent condition. Before Weston had whisked her away down a long hallway, she'd noted that the butler's raiment had looked expensive and that the walls in the foyer were hung in green figured silk. The hallway was well lit, gleaming gilt and crystal fixtures held brightly burning beeswax candles and the jewel-toned hall carpet showed no sign of wear or fading. Everything she had observed so far bespoke the home of a wealthy gentleman. Even the clothes Weston wore were of the first stare of fashion, his immaculate cravat arranged by the hand of a master and his coat of bottle green superfine fit him to perfection.

Weston pushed into a large room decorated in shades of blue, gold and cream, and again Nell was struck by the richness of the furnishings, from the elegant woolen carpet in shades of cream and blue to the sofas covered in gold damask scattered about the room. A fire crackled on the marble hearth and satinwood chairs and tables were placed about the room.

Striding over to one of the sofas near the fire, Weston eased Nell out of his arms and gently laid her down. Once Weston stepped away, she struggled upright, her head spinning as she did so.

Lady Diana and Elizabeth fluttered over to her, and sat down one on each side of Nell. Lady Diana took one of her hands in hers, pressing it anxiously. "Oh, my dear, tell me! Are you in pain? Perhaps you'd like some hartshorn and water?"

Nell shuddered. "No, no, thank you. I'm sure I shall be in excellent spirits in no time. I just need a few moments."

"My observation precisely," remarked Weston. Walking over to a marble-topped table he poured a drink from one of several crystal decanters that sat there. Returning to Nell, he stopped in front of her. Thrusting a snifter of amber liquid at her, he commanded, "Drink this. It's brandy. It will clear that spinning head of yours."

Nell thought about refusing, but reading determination in those cool green eyes, she took the snifter from him. "I suppose," she said wryly, "that if I refused you'd pour it down my throat."

A smile flickered across his dark face. "I do so admire intelligent women. Now drink it up. You'll see that I am right."

Nell took a sip, made a face and then, gamely, in one big gulp, swallowed the contents of the glass. She almost gagged, the liquor burning the length of her throat before flowing warmly down to her stomach. To her astonishment, in moments, she did feel better.

The door to the salon opened and a woman in a gown of puce kerseymere with an edging of cream lace around the neck swept into the room. She was a small, buxom female with startling fair skin that contrasted sharply to the mass of ebony-colored hair half-hidden by the charming lace and muslin cap she wore on her head. Black eyes full of lively intelligence surveyed the room, something deep in their depths flickering briefly as they rested on Nell.

The Frenchwoman, Nell thought, Harlan's second wife, the mother of Raoul, Charles Weston's younger half brother. If the Frenchwoman was surprised to find the Countesses Wyndham in her house, she gave no sign. Drifting up to where Nell sat on the couch, she said, "So we meet at last. I am Mrs. Weston and you are Lord Wyndham's bride, oui?"

Nell nodded. "Yes, I am. We are sorry to intrude upon you this way, but I suffered a fall from my horse and your, ah, stepson, was most insistent that he bring me here. I trust that our unexpected arrival will cause you no trouble."

The Frenchwoman shrugged. "It is my stepson's house. He may do as he pleases-even if I think it foolish." She cast a glance at Weston. "What were you thinking, mon fils? You know that the earl will not be happy to find his bride here."

"And why is it that everyone thinks that the state of my cousin's emotions is of any interest to me?" asked Weston with a raised brow.

Mrs. Weston's lips thinned. "You are a fool," she stated coldly.

"Well, at least we are in agreement about something," murmured Weston. "Ah, here's Garthwaite, just in time to prevent us from brawling in front of our guests."

Garthwaite entered the room carrying an ornate silver tray, followed by a footman carrying another larger tray arrayed with several types of small sandwiches, biscuits and sweets.

Nell was never so glad of a cup of hot, strong tea as she was at that moment. Taking the cup from Mrs. Weston, her fingers wrapped around the china cup as if she would never let it go. Mrs. Weston was a polite hostess and chatted aimlessly about the countryside, the weather and the latest fashions, in general making Nell feel comfortable. Lady Diana joined in and if one did not know better would have assumed that the ladies met regularly and were good friends. Weston amused himself by flirting with Elizabeth, with whom he seemed on excellent terms.

Nell had just finished her second cup of tea and was feeling more the thing when the sound of male voices could be heard coming down the hallway. She stiffened. It was far too soon for Julian to have arrived, so that meant...

Two men entered the salon, both wearing breeches and boots, one as dark as the other was fair. The Weston features, though altered by the infusion of French blood, made it easy for Nell to identify Raoul, Weston's younger half brother. As for the other...It was a face she would never forget. One of her hands clenched into a fist and only by the greatest of willpower was she able to keep seated on the sofa, controlling the feral instinct to fly across the room and claw out Lord Tynedale's very blue eyes.

Both men stopped, startled to find, except for Weston, the salon full of women. Raoul recovered instantly and rushed to the sofa.

"Never tell me," he exclaimed, smiling warmly down at Nell, "that this is my cousin's new bride come to call upon us?"

Lady Diana made a hurried introduction and explained the situation.

"Whatever the reasons for you being here, Lady Wyndham, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," he said. "My cousin is to be congratulated for choosing such a lovely lady for his wife."

Nell muttered something polite, bracing herself for Tynedale's approach. And approach her he did. A sly smile on his handsome mouth, he bowed over her hand and murmured, "My dear, dear Countess Wyndham, allow me to congratulate you on your marriage. Why you could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard the news-I, for one, never thought I'd see this day." Malice in his blue eyes, he added, "Here we all thought that Lord Wyndham had buried his heart with the beautiful Lady Catherine and what does he do, but steal the march on all of us and snatch another lovely heiress right from beneath our noses. His quick thinking and swift action quite took my breath away. So perspicacious of him to, er, seize the moment, don't you agree?"

Loathing him, Nell jerked her fingers from his grasp. "Yes, Lord Wyndham's intellect is of the highest order," she said. "And I do so admire and respect a man with cognitive ability, as well as charm and address." She smiled sweetly. "Compared to my husband, I must admit that most men seem...well, rather, ah, coarse and addle-brained."

Tynedale gave a hard laugh. "Ah, well, my lady, that remains to be seen. Some of us may upon occasion appear foolish and make mistakes, but I assure you, we seldom make the same one twice."

"Now why," complained Weston, coming over to stand behind them at the rear of the sofa, "do I have the impression that I have walked into the second act of a three-act play?"

Nell flushed and looked down at her hands. She had not meant to cross swords with Tynedale so openly, but the provocation had been great. From beneath her lashes she studied him as he turned aside Weston's comment with a laugh. He was a blackguard, an evil man, and she hated him. If not for him she would still be plain Miss Eleanor Anslowe. For just a second her heart stuttered. Did she really wish that she had never met Julian and married him? Yes, she admitted fiercely, if his heart is in the grave with Lady Catherine.

The conversation became general and Nell relaxed and let the others do the talking while she listened. She hated having to endure Tynedale's barbed conversation and she was very conscious of Weston standing just behind her. Weston puzzled her. He was nothing like she had thought he would be and under different circumstances, meeting him for the first time, she thought she might have liked him. And then again...

As the minutes passed she became aware that she was uneasy. Julian was not going to be happy finding her here, but it wasn't the anticipation of her husband's displeasure that troubled her. There was something about this house, these people, that bothered her and made her long for Julian's arrival and their departure for Wyndham Manor. Their immediate departure, she thought wryly.

She detested being in the same room with Tynedale, detested even more having to smile and treat him politely, and she wondered how Julian was going to react to his presence. It was bad enough that she had to be here in the first place, without Tynedale lurking nearby.

Her gaze slid to Raoul and she studied him from beneath her lashes. He was a handsome man, his features, while bearing the Weston stamp, more regular than either Julian or Weston's, but those black eyes of his reminded her of his mother as did the shape of his mouth. Raoul was far more handsome and charming than his half brother but watching Raoul as he laughed and teased Lady Diana, Nell decided that she preferred Weston's abrupt manner. It was possible, she admitted, for a man to possess too much charm.

Lady Diana rose from the sofa to take a chair next to Mrs. Weston and they were soon deep into a conversation about the merits of Pear's Soap for the complexion; Raoul carried Elizabeth off to view the gardens from one of the huge windows. Lord Tynedale promptly took the seat that Lady Diana had vacated and Nell froze. She was trying very hard not to cause a scene, but Tynedale's proximity was making it difficult.

"You really must tell me, my dear," he drawled in a voice for her ears alone, "how it is that your marriage to the earl came about. How did you manage to trap him?"

Her expression glacial, Nell stared at him. "And why," she asked tightly, "would I discuss something of such a personal nature with you? I'd sooner tie my garter in public. You know very well what happened!"

Tynedale clasped his heart as if struck. "Oh, fair lady, you wound me. Never tell me, that having made the match of the decade, that you begrudge my little part in it? For shame!"

Weston leaned over the back of the sofa and murmured, "Do you know, Tynedale, I am quite sure, no, I am positive that my revered cousin would find your attentions to his wife objectionable." His eyes locked with Tynedale's, he added, "I know I would...And my cousin and I, for all our differences, are remarkably alike...in some things." When Tynedale shrugged, Weston sighed. "Have you forgotten," he asked, "that Lord Wyndham is noted for his excellent swordplay?" Tynedale jerked and touched the faint scar on his face. Weston nodded. "Precisely. I suggest that unless you wish to meet him again in the very near future that you hedge off and find some other lady upon which to ply your charms."

The men exchanged glances. Tynedale smiled stiffly. "I'm sure you have misunderstood. Lady Wyndham and I are merely, er, renewing our acquaintance."

"Do you really think that Wyndham will care one way or the other?" Weston inquired dryly.

Before Tynedale could reply, Garthwaite strode into the room and announced, "The Earl of Wyndham."

Julian strolled into the doorway. A few steps into the room, he stopped, his gaze taking in the occupants. If the sight of his wife hobnobbing with Tynedale and Weston disturbed him there was no sign of it on his handsome face. His eyes raked over Nell and seeing that she appeared unhurt, he turned his attention to his hostess.

Greetings were exchanged and Julian was offered refreshments. Smiling, he declined. "Thank you, that will not be necessary. If we are to reach home before dark, it is imperative that we leave before the light fails."

"Afraid we'll corrupt you?" drawled Weston, as he straightened from the sofa. An odd smile on his lips, he walked toward Julian. "Surely, a cup of tea or a snifter of brandy will not come amiss before you tear your bride away from us?"

"Oh, Julian!" cried Lady Diana, jumping up and rushing over to Julian. "Do not be angry. It was not my fault! I swear to you." She cast an anxious glance at Nell. "And it wasn't Nell's fault, either. It was an accident. The mare stumbled and Nell could not keep her seat. It was most providential that Cousin Charles came along when he did." The scrap of lace reappeared and dabbing her eyes, she said, "If Cousin Charles had not been so helpful we'd probably still be there at the side of the road."

"I'm sure everything you have said is true," replied Julian in a soothing tone. Over Diana's head, he looked at his cousin. "And sometime in the very near future, I would very much like to hear how Cousin Charles came to be so, ah, conveniently at hand."

"Oh, think nothing of it, dear boy," remarked Charles, an unholy gleam in his eyes. "Consider it simply my good fortune. Anything to be of service to the head of the family. You know how I so try to curry favor with you every chance I get."

Julian burst out laughing. "Gammon! I sometimes think that your only redeeming quality is your bloody impudence." Smiling he extended his hand. "Thank you, Cousin. I am grateful for your service to my wife and family."

"At least you will concede that I have a redeeming quality," Charles said, as he shook Julian's hand. "And you're welcome."

"By Jove!" said Raoul coming up beside the other two men. "Does this mean that we are once again back in your good graces?"

Julian gave a twisted smile. "Have done! Suffice to say I am grateful for your help and hospitality and let us leave it at that for the time being."

He glanced around the room again, his eyes lingering for a moment on Tynedale, who still sat next to Nell. His mouth tightened, but he said only, "I am indeed sorry not to partake some refreshments, but nightfall is fast approaching and I wish to return home in all haste and apprise myself of Lady Wyndham's health."

Striding to the sofa, he put out an imperious hand to Nell. "My dear? Are you ready to leave?"

Nell was more than ready to leave. After thanking Mrs. Weston for her hospitality, she allowed Julian to escort her from the room. Lady Diana and Elizabeth were still taking their leave from Mrs. Weston and it was only the two of them that traversed the long hallway.

Aware that she was favoring her left leg more than usual, Julian asked quietly, "Are you really unhurt?"

Nell flashed him a look and nodded. "I was dizzy...shaken a little, but your cousin Charles made me drink some brandy and that seemed to solve the problem. I am sure that I will be stiff and sore for a few days, though." She hesitated. "Are you very angry to find us here? There really was no choice."

Julian sighed. "As Diana said, it is not your fault." Thinking of the exchange with Charles, he added, "And perhaps some good will come of it."

"But what of Tynedale?"

His eyes scanned her face. "I was surprised to see him seated next to you."

There was a question implicit in his words and Nell stiffened. "Do you think," she asked in a low, angry voice, "that I encouraged him?"

"No. No." Julian replied hastily. "I was merely surprised that he dared to approach you."

"You will find," she muttered, "that Tynedale will dare whatever he pleases. I have no control over him and short of causing just the sort of scene we wish to avoid, there was nothing I could do when he sat down beside me. I was never more grateful that Cousin Charles joined us."

Julian frowned. "Do you think Tynedale has told either of my cousins his part in our marriage?"

She shrugged. "I do not know...although I had the impression that your cousin Charles may know more than it appears."

Julian gave a bitter laugh. "That, my dear, is Cousin Charles all over. He always plays it close to the vest."

The sound of the others approaching behind them ended their exchange and they continued on their way down the hallway. They reached the foyer to find Garthwaite waiting with Nell, Lady Diana and Elizabeth's things. Pulling on her gloves, Nell thanked the butler. Her hat, she thought wryly, was probably still lying on the ground where Weston had thrown it.

Lady Diana and Elizabeth were putting on their own gloves and chatting to Weston and Raoul, who had followed them to the foyer, and Nell took the moment to cast another glance around the elegant area. A pair of doors she had not noticed previously were thrown wide and, glancing inside she saw that this room, like the rest of the house, reflected not only impeccable taste but also a sizeable amount of money. A massive, gilt-edged portrait hanging above the fireplace on the far wall caught her eye. The portrait drew her and unaware of anything else, she walked slowly across the room to stop and stare at it. The subjects were a gentleman and a young boy of perhaps ten. The gentleman wore silks and satins well over a decade out of fashion; a stunning sapphire ring adorned one hand. She recognized at once the Weston features, the same features replicated in miniature in the face of the small boy who leaned affectionately against the knee of the gentleman.

Mesmerized as she stared at the darkly handsome features, her heart began to beat in hard, painful strokes. She knew that face. She had seen that smiling gentleman before...Only he had not been smiling...not when she had seen him. The room tilted and a wave of nausea swept over her, her left leg trembling violently. The pounding of her heart became almost unbearable as memory clawed its way free from the deepest recesses of her mind. Oh, God. She remembered. She gasped, swayed and the world went black.

She awoke to find herself cradled in Julian's arms. Struggling upright, she became aware of movement and the rattle and jingle of a harness and realized that she was in the Wyndham coach.

Julian pressed her back against the dark blue velvet squabs of the coach, saying, "Easy, easy-you fainted." In the dim light of the coach, he stared into her face, brushing back a lock of her hair that had come loose. "How are you feeling now?"

"Oh, Nell, you scared us to death!" cried Lady Diana. "It was awful. You were standing there one minute and the next you were lying motionless on the floor. I thought you had died! I was never so terrified in my life."