The dark-haired girl glared mulishly. "I'll go back and see him. I'm not running away for ever. You have no right to tell me what to do. Or tell me what my brother feels. He left me a note before he left last night. In it he told me who you are. The woman who broke his heart!"

Estelle fought the guilt she knew Laura had wanted to provoke. "Well, he doesn't need another broken heart then, does he? He is here, in this inn. Why not tell him what you want? Why not marry with his blessing?"

"He won't give me his blessing. I am in love. And I won't turn back now."

Estelle clasped the girl's hand. "If you are happy, then I wish you a lifetime of happiness. Tell your brother, wait for his blessing before you marry. Understand that it is not too late to turn back. It never is."

She left Laura then, hurrying back across the muddy yard. It was so easy to give advice she would never take. Lyan was offering her the chance to turn back. And she had said no.

Her heart grew heavier with each hurried step back to the bedroom. Lyan still slept. He lay on his stomach and the sheets had fallen down to expose his bare back. Estelle dropped her cloak and sat down beside him. Her nightdress was half open, slipping off her shoulders. What should she do slip back into bed and betray him by letting Laura escape to Gretna? Or wake him up and betray a young girl who yearned to find love?

She touched his shoulder. Shook him gently.

Click.

Behind her, the door's latch had opened and she spun around. Laura?

She expected to see the girl in the doorway, but instead she breathed in the choking scent of a smouldering cheroot. Her gaze locked on the dark eyes of a strange man.

But she had locked the door. After she'd come in, she'd locked the door by instinct.

The black-haired man winked at her. He wore a grey greatcoat and gleaming black boots, the cheroot was clamped in his teeth, and his large body filled the doorway. Blocking her escape. An amused smirk twisted his lips.

Then she saw it. The almost extinct firelight glimmered along the muzzle of a pistol held in his hand.

"Who are you?" she demanded, fighting to hide fear.

"I take it you are Mrs Desjardins," the man said and his glittering eyes mocked her. "I see Lyan has been mixing business with pleasure. Well, I have some business to conclude myself. In the name of Lord Cavendish. Which means, unfortunately, I will have to get rid of you first."

He swung up the pistol to point at her chest.

Estelle stared at the muzzle, frozen, her heart pounding in wild terror. She expected to hear the roar of the shot and be blown off her feet. Instead, she saw a look of pleasure leap to the man's eyes. He was enjoying her torment.

She drew on all the bravado she'd clung to when she'd been growing up in the stews. "I will pay you more," she said, confident and cool. "I will pay you far more to leave us alive."

His finger paused on the trigger. "I doubt that. And I can't leave Lyan alive he'd hunt me to the ends of the earth. But you . . ." His gaze moved suggestively over her.

"I have a lot of money," she purred. "I can give you ten thousand pounds." She couldn't. Couldn't. But she prayed he would be intrigued enough to keep his attention on her, to give her more time- And then Lyan launched off the edge of the bed. His body ploughed into the man, his hand slamming on to the pistol. The weapon exploded with smoke and a flash and the stench of burned powder.

For a frozen second, Estelle expected to see Lyon or herself collapse. Then she saw the feathers drifting in the air. The only victim of the shot was the bed.

The man swung the pistol up again, and smashed the muzzle into the side of Lyan's head. Lyan recoiled and blood flowed down his face from a gash in his temple. Estelle's heart gave a leap of terror. For her entire life, she had feared being under a man's power. She'd feared being helpless.

Dear heaven, she was not going to let Lyan be killed.

She didn't have scissors in her hand this time, but the fireplace poker was in reach. While the attacker had his attention fixed on Lyan, Estelle lunged forwards, wrapped her hands around the iron handle, and struck . . .!

"Blast!" The man jumped back, avoiding her blow. But it gave Lyan enough time to grab him, snapping back the wrist that held the gun. She heard a sickening crack, then the thud of the fallen pistol. The man's wrist dangled limply for a second before Lyan threw him to the floor as though he weighed no more than the feather pillows.

He pressed his foot down across the blackguard's throat.

He had come so close to losing her again, losing her for ever. And he'd known, as Nick Swan levelled the pistol at Estelle's heart, he couldn't live without her. He had barely survived for ten years without her, let alone a lifetime. If she died, he knew his heart would die, too.

Lyan increased the pressure of his foot on Nick's neck. He knew full well he wouldn't have the Judas beneath his boot if it weren't for Sal . . . for Estelle. And, though her chest rose and fell with quick, deep breaths, she was already yanking a cord from the bed curtains to tie Nick's hands. She definitely hadn't left behind the woman she had once been. She was still a survivor. His heart was filled with admiration for her.

"Who is he?" she whispered.

"My former partner and Bow Street Runner, Nicholas Swan." He rapped the b.u.t.t of the pistol against Nick's temple. "I take it Cavendish paid you to pursue me."

Estelle took a sharp breath. She went as white as chalk. Swan emitted a grating chuckle of pure triumph. "He paid me well, but I had another reason to come here, Foxton the lovely la.s.s waiting in my carriage for my return. I'm sure she's panting for me-"

"Laura," Estelle broke in. She glared at Nick. "You are the man she believed was a hero?"

"What?" Lyan began to wonder if he'd been the one thrown to the floorboards. It appeared he'd missed a few things. "Would one of you tell me what is going on?"

"Your sister came to me last night," Estelle admitted, "and told me she wished to elope with a Bow Street Runner because she believed you would refuse the match. I now see why."

"And you didn't tell me about this?" He felt a sharp pain through his chest, which just had to be the large crack slicing through his heart at that moment. "Didn't you trust me to do what was best for Laura? This is why I didn't want my sister anywhere near Nick Swan! He's a corrupt blackguard."

"And what are you going to do, Foxton?" Nick grunted from beneath his foot. "Have your sister destroyed by scandal? Let me go, and I'll wed the chit and save her reputation."

"Lyan! What in heaven's name are you doing to Nick?"

Lyan stared into the shocked and horrified eyes of his sister standing in the doorway.

Estelle, bless her, drew Laura into the room. She told Laura everything Lady Maryanne's elopement, their suspicions about Cavendish, Nick's attack. Estelle soothed his sister through each step of the story. At the very end she whispered, "And you must know which man you can trust the one you should keep in your life. Your brother."

Lyan dragged a bound Swan to his feet. "Was it also your job to go after Lady Maryanne Bryght?" Nick's eyes shifted and his mouth hardened, revealing the truth. "Did you find her? Hurt her?"

At Nick's silence, he gripped him by the throat. "Tell me where you found her. And what you did to her and Peabody, or I'll kill you now. Give me the truth and things might go better for you."

Nick gave a vicious laugh. "Good luck finding them. I caught them two days ago, but by then they were wed."

"And Cavendish had sent you to kill them if they were," Estelle accused.

Nick gave a sly grin. "He wanted the lovely and rich bride for himself. I was to get rid of the husband. But the little witch outfoxed me. I had cut up the gent and was ready to finish him when Lady Maryanne pulled a pistol on me. They managed to escape but I had to return to London because Laura was waiting to elope with me." He smirked to Lyan. "Even if I failed Cavendish, I a.s.sumed you would pay a lot of money to get her back and make me go away. Enough for me to live comfortably in Italy."

Laura turned a heart-wrenching shade of white.

"Where did you find them?" Lyan demanded, but Nick shook his head. Fortunately Lyan knew his former partner well. He was a coward at heart. It took another half-hour of threats and a little pain but Nick finally revealed the small village inn where he had discovered them.

The innkeeper had stormed upstairs at the sound of the shot, and now Estelle took charge, sending him to fetch the nearest magistrate. Lyan looked to her. "Once Nick's taken away, I've got to see if I can find Lady Maryanne."

She nodded. "I will take care of Laura."

What a shame that, at the end of this, he thought ruefully, she wanted him to walk away from her for ever.

The magistrate and several muscular village men arrived to place Nick Swan under arrest. Swan had been shackled in irons and taken to gaol. Lyan, the other magistrate, and several of those men raced off to search for Lady Maryanne and Peabody, planning to start their hunt in the village where Swan had caught the pair. Estelle stayed with Laura, who sobbed and sobbed at her lost love.

But as dawn began to blush on the horizon, Laura wiped at her eyes. "You had tea brought in, didn't you?"

"Yes." Estelle poured the girl a cup. She suspected Laura was, at her core, as strong and n.o.ble as Lyan. As the girl sipped hot tea, Estelle stroked back her hair.

"I'm crying at my stupidity," Laura said. "And at how close I came to losing my brother." Wide green eyes gazed up. "You were correct. I see how important Lyan is to me. I don't want to lose him, in any way. When I marry, I want it to bring happiness to our family. Not discord. And-" She ducked her head. "He was right."

"Your brother is a very wise and wonderful man."

The door burst open then and Lyan strode in. He grinned when he saw his sister drinking tea, still tear-stained, but also smiling. "My G.o.d, Estelle," he murmured, "you are a shining star."

Estelle grasped Laura's cup. Her heart felt full to bursting as Laura flung herself into Lyan's embrace. Over Laura's disordered curls, Lyan gave her the good news.

"We found Lady Maryanne and Peabody quickly. They had taken refuge in a nearby barn. Peabody has lost a lot of blood, but the village doctor believes he will survive. They have many years of married life ahead of them."

Estelle could have kissed him. But Laura deserved to have all her brother's hugs. Then to her surprise, Laura looked up into Lyan's face. "Are you going to marry Madame Desjardins? You could keep travelling to Gretna Green and marry her over the anvil. That's the place where everything all love is possible, Lyan. You both deserve to be happy."

Estelle caught her breath. What if Lyan thought she'd put Laura up to it?

But Lyan shook his head. "I have no intention of going to Gretna Green."

A fortnight had pa.s.sed, and Estelle had accepted the truth. Lyan believed she would not marry him again. He would not come to ask her one more time. Really, it was madness to even hope.

How many times would any man put up with being turned down?

At least Lady Maryanne now Mrs Peabody was free of Cavendish. He had been faced with ruin, for he'd needed Maryanne's money for his gaming debts. His body had been found in the Thames. Whether he'd jumped or had fallen in drunk, no one knew.

The bell tinkled above her shop door. It was just closing time. She peered out from behind the workroom curtain to tell the customer to come back tomorrow.

Lyan stood in the doorway, just as he had done two weeks ago. But this time, his arms overflowed with an enormous bouquet of red roses. There were so many flowers that the red velvety blossoms almost hid his handsome face. "For Sally of the Gardens," he said softly, setting the lovely bundle on one of the chairs.

"Lyan-" But her voice died as he dropped to one knee, and a shy smile touched his lips. He held up something sparkling. It caught the candlelight and flashed light around the room. "I didn't want to whisk you away to Gretna Green, Sally. That's the place for forbidden love. I wanted to marry you here, properly. If you wish, we can marry at St George's as soon as I get a licence." He raked back his dark hair. "I love you, Sally. I've loved you for my lifetime. When I realized I could have lost you in that inn . . . You have to say yes, Sally. Because I'm going to stay here, down on one knee until you do. And with me filling your doorway, no one can get into the shop."

She almost laughed. The very first time he had asked her, ten years ago, she had said yes. She'd agreed then, because she had thought she could never love anyone more than she loved Lyan.

She had been wrong. She loved him even more now.

At her silence, his face dropped. "Angel, it can't be 'no' again, can it?"

"There are more reasons why I can't marry you than I can count. For one, you will soon become an earl. Earls do not marry simple seamstresses-"

"You are anything but a simple seamstress."

"I am a shopkeeper, Lyan. Earls do not marry shopkeepers. Unless the earls are very, very poor and the shopkeepers are very rich."

His lips twitched. "I was am a Bow Street Runner. My upbringing was no different than yours, and I have a profession, as you have."

"I ran away the first time because I was afraid of being trapped." There. She wanted to give him the truth. And if he still wanted her then . . . "When we were young and you asked me to marry you, I wanted you more than life itself that was why I said yes. But then I became afraid. My mother had been treated so badly by men, I wasn't sure-"

"You thought that I could hurt you."

"I had no idea that men could be good and n.o.ble, Lyan. All I knew was my mother and the men in the stews. She had believed those men would be good to her, but she was so very wrong. I was afraid of losing control of my life. I thought what I wanted most was to be in charge of my own destiny. But when we were attacked in the inn, I realized that love and family are far more important than fighting to always be in control."

She threw up her hands. "It doesn't matter what I want. Society would never accept me as a countess. You wanted to clear Laura's way to a better life, not throw more obstacles in her path. I would be an insurmountable obstacle."

"Laura has found the man she wants to marry."

"Goodness. Already? Who?"

"The young Viscount Norbury. Once she no longer had Swan in pursuit of her, blinding her to other men, she saw Norbury's good qualities. But I told Laura she can't encourage him until you complete an investigation of him, Sal."

Her nervous laughter bubbled up.

He clasped her hand, and just the contact sent a sizzle to her toes. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to marry me because I was a Bow Street Runner," he said, his eyes serious. "The ton isn't going to be eager to accept me as an earl. But if I'm going to face whispers and sneers, I need you at my side, Sally, to give me strength. I've always needed you at my side."

She took a deep breath and tried to speak. But tears got in the way.

"I want a home with you, Sally. I want to have more children with you. Many brothers and sisters for Rose. But, more than anything, I want you, and that will never change. I don't care what the ton says about us. If I have you, I can look any peer in the eye and tell him I'm the luckiest man in England. For I'd have the two most precious things in the world. Love. And you."

Her tears broke free. They ran down her cheeks. Lyan looked nervous and got to his feet, jerking a linen handkerchief from his pocket.

She took it, and tried to wipe delicately. Then gave up and rubbed her cheeks. She couldn't remember when she had last cried. But no longer did she have to hide what she felt, no longer did she have to bear everything alone. "Yes. Yes, I will marry you."

He grinned. "No more secrecy, no more running. No more need for Gretna Green." And he wrapped his arms around her like he would never let her go.

Little Miss Independent.

Julia Templeton.

One.

London, England.

"There was a day not so very long ago that women were pining for Lord Drayton. Who would want him now?" Elizabeth Montgomery said, her voice hinting at amus.e.m.e.nt.

Adelaide Bruce, better known as Addy to her friends, resisted the urge to toss her punch in Elizabeth's face. A newly formed acquaintance, Elizabeth didn't realize the man she spoke of so flippantly and with such cruelty was Roan, Addy's brother's best friend, who had been severely injured in battle six months ago.

"He is ghastly, I tell you."

Squaring her shoulders, Addy did her best to control her growing anger. "Miss Elizabeth, the man you speak of is a war hero . . . and a close family friend."

Elizabeth looked down her long nose at Addy, her dark eyes narrowing. "Oh dear, I did not mean to strike a nerve, my pet. I am merely repeating what others have been saying since the Captain's recent return."