"Daughter, how pleasant to see you," Furness greeted Joanne as the two men who carried her put her in the chair and departed. Confronted with her father, unable to escape him, her old hatred and fears viciously surged back. She struggled to free herself of the rope binding her hands behind her back.

"I fear you do not have a very biddable bride, my lord," Furness said to Wiltham with a stark laugh. "But then she was never a biddable daughter." He downed the half gla.s.s of port in his hand and refilled it.

"A few lessons on the proper treatment of a husband is all she requires," Wiltham tossed back more

lightly than his quavering spirit felt.

"Let us drink to your success." Furness offered a goblet of wine which the other took eagerly and emptied in a single draught. With a mocking smile, Furness refilled it and raised his own in salute.

The second gla.s.s downed, Wiltham cleared his throat. "The papers, my lord. You said we would sign

the papers when-"

"They are ready-over there." He motioned to a sideboard. "Look them over if you will. They require only your signature. My man has witnessed mine," Furness said, refilling his drink as he stared at his

daughter. Her hair was dark where Joanna's had been light. But the eyes-they reminded him of too much. He drank slowly.

Eagerly Wiltham had picked up the doc.u.ments and read them. "Most agreeable, my lord, most

generous," he commented after several minutes. "Where do I sign?"

"If you read closely, you would have seen that the contract is with my daughter's husband." He forced his gaze from Joanne.

"Do you have the special license?"

Wiltham dug inside his coat and pulled forth a piece of rolled parchment.

"Good. When the ceremony is done, you may sign," Furness told him.

Joanne listened in disbelief. Her father was willing to pay this man? What have I ever done? Why this

when all I ever wanted was his love?

"Where is the cleric then? Why do we waste time?" Wiltham anxiously demanded.

"See what an impatient bridegroom you have," Furness told Joanne. He walked to her side upon a

sudden impulse to touch her, and startled himself when his hand moved slowly toward her.

Joanne wrenched away.

A twinge of guilt hit Furness but he killed it with thoughts of his daughter's prideful arrogance.

I was right, his ugly pride a.s.serted, to have loathed her existence.

"I am right," he rea.s.sured himself. Furness forced a calm front. "Why, my dear, I was merely going to

undo this contrivance."

Joanne forced herself to bear her father's touch as he untied the rough cloth chafing her mouth. Free of it,

she found her throat too parched for speech and she accepted the goblet he held to her lips. The burning port hit her stomach with wrenching swiftness. She gasped.

"Not accustomed to drink?" Furness laughed maliciously. "I believe that will change." His mood shifted.

"Untie her." "Is that wise, my lord?" quaked the prospective bridegroom. "Where will she go? What harm can she do?" Furness asked. "You think to run to the comtesse?" he asked Joanne, "or perhaps to Kenton?" Years of experience hadtaught him how to find Joanne's vulnerabilities. At mention of Kenton's name he saw the hope spring toher eyes and a devil of old bade him quash it. "Think again. What will the reaction be when the tale of your sojourn at Kentoncombe is told abroad,when everyone learns your dear comtesse partic.i.p.ated? What of her reputation then?" "Nothing happened there," Joanne retorted, rising to defend those he threatened. "Would you have me believe that? I am no fool. You have become," he waved a hand and leered,"attractive. Kenton, I have learned, is a widower of many years. He must have delighted in you, mydear." He slurred at the love Joanne held dear. "And the comtesse's charms. I envy the man." Fury spurred Joanne. She struck at her father. He dropped his gla.s.s and caught her hand. "Ah, you did not enjoy sharing him?" "You foul beast," she began. Furness roughly threw her into the chair and slapped her face. He locked his hands locked onto the chair's arms and pushed his face to within inches of hers. "Listen well, my dear," he snarled. "I can ruin

the comtesse, Kenton, and you, if that is your wish. Simply leave here and it is done."

Her body recoiled from his blow; her mind reeled at his words. Joanne saw the drunken glare in her father's eyes. He will do anything to satisfy what consumes him, she thought. A great fear arose-not for herself but for Jason.

The fury evoked by her defiance slowly died. Furness loosened his hold and straightened. Control regained, he casually adjusted his stock. Claiming a new gla.s.s, he filled it and faced her again.

"But if you have some feeling-some affection," his tone made the word a curse, "for them, think again.

Marry Wiltham and they will be spared. Think on it, but quickly. I want the answer. Now."

Conflicting thoughts vied with each other as Joanne tried to reason. Too much had occurred too quickly.

There had to be some way to protect the comtesse, to shield Jason from her father's vilification and yet

save herself. Time. I must have time to think.

"What is your answer?" Furness demanded. He waited only a moment. "Throw her into the street, Windham," he ordered.

"But, my lord," the younger man objected, seeing his fortune slipping away.

"Turn her out," he leered at Joanne. "We shall see how welcome the comtesse is in society when I am

finished. Why I shall be forced to demand satisfaction from Lord Jason for ruining my daughter."

"No," breathed Joanne. His final words made her decision for her. Her love for Jason gave her strength; she would not save herself and lose all by losing him. All her life her father's threats had been carried out.

In this time when duels were commonplace, their legality avidly defended, there was no doubt he would

do as he said. And Furness was an excellent shot. Since her arrival in London she had heard of at least five men he had killed in such meetings. She would not let him add Kenton to the list.

"What did you say?" Furness asked softly, triumph in his eyes.

"I will-will marry your-p.a.w.n," she choked out.

Furness pulled the bell cord hanging near the door. A liveried footman entered. "Bring the minister," he ordered.

"Yes, my lord," the servant answered and withdrew as quickly as he had come.

"May I write the comtesse?" Joanne asked, seeking any way to delay.

"Of course, as soon as the ceremony is ended," her father answered cordially.

"Ah, Reverend Monroe," he greeted the bent, grey-haired figure that stumbled into the room.

Joanne stared at the old man-his hands a constant tremble, his head atwitch. The smell of spirits

lingered strongly about him.

"This is my daughter, Lady Joanne," she heard her father say, "and Lord Wiltham." He grabbed her wrist and forced her to the younger man's side. "Let us begin."

The palsied reverend opened a prayer book so new the pages cracked as they were turned. "C-could

ye c-come c-closer," he stuttered. Is there no escape? Joanne wondered frantically. Jason, will you not save me? "Do ye ta-take th-this man," the cleric's stumbled on.

For a wild moment Joanne thought again to flee, but the bite of her father's hand bespoke his threats. "To 'be yer law-lawful wed-ded sp-spouse."

Unable to escape-unable to flee without condemning those she loved, Joanne turned to a safe, hidden chamber of her mind. She retreated from reality as she had retreated as a child from the verbal onslaughts of her father. In moments she knew the answer to the cleric's stuttered vows would be demanded. She gathered strength to follow her resolve.

"Joanne," her father's voice penetrated. "Answer." She looked to him in a last desperate plea. "Answer."

Faint shouts and curses, the sounds of scuffling in the corridor jerked Furness' head toward the door. "Say it," he rasped, "say it."

"I-I-I do," Joanne surrendered.

Chapter Twenty-three.

The door burst open behind Furness. Lord Jason Kenton shrugged off a footman who tried to stop him and grabbed at a second.

"Enough," Furness called out, ending the scuffle.

Dr. Ames struggled up from the floor in the corridor as the man atop him released him. Stepping over a p.r.o.ne figure, the comtesse entered the chamber.

"Lord Jason, my lady," Furness bowed. "You have arrived in time to witness the last of the marriage vows. Joanne has already spoken hers. Continue," he told the cleric sharply.

"D-do ye-"

"Wait." Kenton's voice rang in the room. His eyes had not left Joanne's back.

"Joanne cannot be willing in this," the comtesse protested.

"Tell them," Furness demanded confidently.

The joy that had sprung to life in Joanne at the sound of Jason's voice ebbed away. He had come to save her but if she allowed him to rescue her, she would condemn him.