aShe needs to sit down,a another voice was saying, and strong hands were taking her by the arms and lowering her to a chair. And one of those hands cupped the back of her head and forced it down close to her knees. aItas all over, Fleur. I told you you were safe.a THE DUKE OF RIDGEWAY liked Miriam Booth. She appeared to be just the sort of friend Fleur needed. She was sensible, practical, cheerful, affectionate. Once Fleur had recovered from her partial fainting spell, Miriam took her off to her room for a while, despite her protests.

He was not so sure he liked Daniel Booth. The man was blond and handsome, quiet and gentle. Yes, all the qualities to make women fall in love with him. Combined with his clerical garb, they might well be irresistible to most women, his grace conceded.

And he cared about Fleur. As soon as the women had left the room, he asked detailed and perceptive questions until the whole story was told.

aSuch a man ought not to be the social leader of a community,a he said. aHe ought to be prosecuted. Unfortunately, to do so would be to cause Isabella further stress. One must accept the arrangement you have made as satisfactory, I suppose.a aThose are my conclusions too,a his grace said. aPersonally I would like to take the man apart limb from limb and bone from bone, but that, again, would not be in Miss Bradshawas best interests.a The Reverend Booth looked at him with very direct eyes, which seemed to see through to his soul.

aMiss Bradshaw ought not to remain here,a the duke said, athough I am quite sure she is in no danger from her cousin. It would not be appropriate for a lady of her rank to return to my home as my daughteras governess. I plan to find Brocklehurst and persuade him to release a sizable allowance to her until she gains control of all her fortune at the age of twenty-five. Failing that, I shall try to place her with an older lady as a companion.a Again those eyes looked into his soul and saw everything.

aI believe you have done more than an employer is called upon to do for those dependent upon him,a the Reverend Booth said. aIsabella has been fortunate. But she is among friends again now. My sister and I have discussed plans for her future. Now that we know she will not be going to trial, we can present those plans to her for her approval.a And one of those plans involved the curateas marrying Fleur, his grace thought. And perhaps she would marry him, too, if she could somehow get past a certain event that had taken place in her life in London. And perhaps it would be the very best thing that could happen to her. She had been going to marry the man before the death of Brocklehurstas valet had changed everything. She probably loved him, and he appeared to care for her.

The duke was not at all sure he liked Daniel Booth.

He should take his leave. There really was no further reason for staying, especially if her friends were willing to help her settle somewhere other than Heron House. He should wait until she reappeared, say a formal good-bye to her, and then begin his journey home.

He could be back at Willoughby less than a week after leaving. Back with Pamela. Back perhaps before Thomas left, in time to offer Sybil some sort of support in the agony she would suffer when he did so. Not that she would allow him near her, of course.

He should go back and try to begin the process of forgetting. It must be done soon. Why defer it?

And yet he accepted an invitation to luncheon and retold his story to an almost silent Fleur and a brightly curious Miss Booth. Fleur looked not nearly as relieved or excited as she should have looked. But of course, the stress of months had only just been lifted from her shoulders. It must be difficult to adjust her mind to the knowledge that it was over, that she was free.

And of course it was not over. The scars would remain for a long time. And one fact would remain with her for a lifetime. He met her eyes across the table as Miriam talked, and saw doubt there and pain. And he wanted to reach out a hand to her and ask her what it was, how he might help her.

But he could not help her. He returned his eyes to his plate. When all the events of the past months had been sorted through, it would be obvious to her that he was the only person who had done her permanent harm. Perhaps the thought had already struck her.

He should take his leave immediately after luncheon.

aSo you will take the cottage that used to be Miss Galenas, Isabella?a Miriam Booth was saying. aAnd help me at the school, as we originally planned? That will be splendid for a while, will it not? Until other arrangements can be made, that is. Perhaps under the circumstances Lord Brocklehurst can be persuaded to consent to aa She smiled. aWell, perhaps he will not act quite the tyrant he has always been.a aI will have to think, Miriam,a Fleur said. aYes, I think that would be a good idea. I always did love Miss Galenas cottage. All those roses!a aCanat you see that Isabellaas mind is in a spin, Miriam?a the Reverend Booth asked quietly. aShe needs time to think about her future. I have to return to the village. This is my afternoon for visiting the sick. Are you coming with me?a Miriam pushed her chair back and got to her feet. aYes,a she said. aUnless you would like me to stay with you, Isabella?a Fleur shook her head and smiled.

The Reverend Booth too got to his feet and looked inquiringly at the duke.

aI will begin my journey home this afternoon, then,a his grace said. aWould you care for a stroll in the garden first, Miss Bradshaw?a aYes,a she said without looking at him.

The Reverend Booth looked full at him, and the duke knew that he did not like the man at all.

aIT WAS GOOD OF YOU to come,a Fleur said, aand to do what you have done. Thank you, your grace.a They were strolling side by side in the formal gardens, not touching. They had seen the Reverend Booth and Miriam on their way back to the village.

aYou are not happy,a he said. aWhat is it?a aOf course I am happy,a she said. aHow could I not be? For several months I have lived with the conviction that I would hang sooner or later. It is not a pleasant prospect. One finds oneself wondering about all the morbid details. And I returned here yesterday to find everyone looking at me as if I were a murderer and a thief. It will be something to have my name cleared.a aYes,a he said, and walked beside her in silence for a while. aWhat is it?a She did not answer for a long while. aI came here to try to come to terms with what happened,a she said finally, aor perhaps to look for some evidence to prove my innocence. It seems that I do not need that evidence any longer. But there are so many unanswered questions. And I have come up against a brick wall here.a aExplain,a he said.

aMy maid has gone to other employment,a she said. aShe is the one who discovered the jewels. I wanted to know where the jewels were. Were they carefully hidden, or were they on top? If I were the thief, I would have to be dreadfully stupid to lay them on top, wouldnat I?a aWas your trunk locked?a he asked.

aNo, of course not,a she said. aI was going only as far as the rectory.a aAnd it was left in an untended gig outside the house?a he asked.

aYes,a she said. aYes, of course. I would have had to be very foolish to leave costly jewels in just such a way. I would surely have smuggled them out some other way or hidden them on my person. But I donat know what the pieces were or how large they were. Anyway, Annie is gone and I cannot ask her any questions.a aAn annoyance,a he said. aI will have her found if it is important to you.a aMr. Houghton?a she said, smiling fleetingly. aNo, that is not the main frustration. The worst thing is that I cannot find Hobson.a aThe valet?a he said. aHe is not six feet beneath the churchyard?a aHe was taken to his own home for burial,a she said. aBut no one seems to know where that is. The groom who took the coffin there has since gone to Yorkshire, and the coachman who drove Matthew there is still with him. It was Yardley, the man now in Yorkshire, who helped Matthew lay out the body and seal it in the coffin.a aWas it, indeed?a he said.

aSomehow it is important to me to see his grave,a she said. aYou see, I did not murder him, but I did kill him. Had I not been hysterical and pushed him, he would not have fallen and he would not have died. I killed him. I was the instrument of his death. Somehow I have to learn to live with that on my conscience. I have to come to terms with it. I have to see his grave.a aYou cannot shift the burden from your shoulders by telling yourself that the man brought his fate on himself and that your cousin was also responsible?a he said. aYou cannot tell yourself that you were in no way to blame at all?a aYes,a she said. aWith my head I can. But the knowledge that I pushed him and that he died will always be with me. I know it is foolish. I will not detain you, your grace. You must be eager to be on your way and have as much daylight as possible for your journey.a aThere must be someone who knows where the valet came from,a his grace said. aDid he have friends among the servants? In the village?a aI donat know,a she said.

aThen we must find out,a he said. aI must try to emulate my secretary and discover all there is to be discovered. I shall ask around in the village. Will you question the servants again?a aI have spoken with most of them already,a she said. aThey know nothing, and it has to be remembered that they are Matthewas servants, not mine. Besides, this is none of your concern, your grace. You wish to be on your way.a aDo I?a he said, stopping on the graveled path and taking both her hands in his. aI want to see you happy, Fleur, and completely free. I canat leave you until I know that you are both.a aBut why?a she asked, looking wide-eyed into his eyes.

aYou know very well why,a he said fiercely, squeezing her hands until they hurt before turning to stride in the direction of the stables.

She ran to catch up to him. aBecause of what you did to me?a she said. aBut I was standing outside the theater for that very purpose. If it had not been you, it would have been someone else. Perhaps not that night. But the night after.a He stopped suddenly and took her hands once again. aThank God it was me,a he said, his eyes burning into hers. aIf it had to be anyone, then thank God it was me.a He released her hands. aI shall return early in the morning,a he said. aI hope I will be able to bring you some information.a He strode away again, and this time she did not follow. She stood looking after him.

And there was one thought uppermost in her mind. There was to be a reprieve of one day. Tomorrow he would say good-bye and would be gone forever. But not today. Not quite yet.

Tomorrow.

WE ARE PLEASED TO SEE YOU BACK HOME, MISS, if you will pardon me for saying so.a The little maid who had been sent to take Annieas place was hanging up in the wardrobe the muslin day dress Fleur had just removed. Her manner was suddenly confidential. aAs Ted Jackson said, you could not be guilty of those things you are supposed to be guilty of if you have come back of your own accord. Not that most of us thought you were guilty anyway, miss.a Fleur came out of a deep reverie. aThank you, Mollie,a she said. aIt is kind of you to say so.a Mollieas voice lowered and became even more confidential, though the door of Fleuras dressing room was firmly closed and no other servant probably anywhere near it. aAnd if you was to ask me, miss,a she said, aI would say that Mr. Hobson got no more than he deserved. I never did like him. He always thought he was Godas gift to women.a Hobson had been a handsome man in his own way. Mollie could not be described as a pretty girl, by any stretch of the imagination. Fleur guessed that the maid had been spurned by him at some time.

aHe expected favors for nothing in return,a Mollie said, confirming her suspicions. aBut I never would listen to his sweet talk, miss, though he tried it on me more than once.a aDid he?a Fleur had spent another frustrating two hours since the Duke of Ridgeway had left, questioning the servants. She was tired, and she wished she had said nothing to him. By now he would be on his way back to Dorsetshire and she would be able to start thinking about the rest of her life. As it was, he was coming back the next morning, and she was unable even to feel the full elation that his story should have brought her. aDid he ever talk about himself, Mollie?a aAll the time,a the girl said. aIt was his favorite subject, miss.a The words were spoken with such spite that Fleur smiled despite herself.

aHis father made good over at Wroxford,a Mollie said, aas a butcher, miss, and that was how Mr. Hobson was able to get such a grand position as gentlemanas man. But for all that, he had no cause to put on such airs.a aSo that is where he is from?a Fleur said. aWroxford?a aOh!a Mollieas hand came across her mouth with a loud slap. aMr. Chapman will kill me. He said we was to remember who was paying our wages and say nothing.a aTo me?a Fleur said. aYou were to say nothing to me?a aOn account of the fact that his lordship will be packing you off to jail as soon as he comes home, miss,a Mollie said. aThough I donat think you deserve to go there. And nor do most of the others, miss. Mr. Chapman is going to kill me for sure.a aThe butler will hear nothing from my lips, Mollie,a Fleur said. aAnd I do thank you for telling me as much as you have. That is where Hobson is buried, then?a aI suppose so, miss,a Mollie said. aI donat rightly know or care. Wroxford is all of thirty miles away. I would not walk thirty yards to put flowers on his grave. I prefer Ted Jackson to him any day of the year, even if Ted is only an undergardener. Ted treats a girl as if she is special.a Fleur got to her feet and brushed at the skirt of her silk evening dress. She did not really know why she had changed, since she would be dining alone. But it did feel good to be a lady again, to be surrounded by all her own familiar possessions.

aI must go down to dinner,a she said. aThank you, Mollie. I will not need you later. You may have a free evening, unless someone else finds something for you to do belowstairs. Does Ted have a free evening too?a She smiled.

The girl grinned at her in conspiratorial manner. aThat he does, miss,a she said. She crossed the room ahead of Fleur, but hesitated when her hand was on the doorknob. She looked about the room as if she expected to see the butler and perhaps a few other servants hiding behind the furniture. aI was a particular friend of Annieas, miss. She looked after me, like, when I was new here.a aYes?a Fleur looked at the girlas flushed cheeks.

aThat night,a Mollie said, ayou had left a pair of gloves in your dressing room, miss. Annie ran down to the gig with them and put them inside your trunk, on top.a aDid she?a Fleur said.

aThere was no jewels in there then,a the girl continued, abut when Annie opened the trunk later, the jewels was there, on top of the gloves. And just when she opened the trunk, his lordship and Mr. Chapman came into your room without knocking. She told them what I have just told you, miss. The next day she was sent away. She was frightened, and she told me, but she said I had better not say anything. They had given her a lot of money.a aHad they?a Fleur said.

aMr. Chapman will kill me if he finds out, miss,a Mollie said.

aWell, he wonat,a Fleur said. aI believe that before many days have passed, Mollie, Lord Brocklehurst himself will make clear to everyone that the matter of the jewels was an entire misunderstanding. But even so, I am glad to have had some proof of the matter myself. Thank you. You are the bravest of the servants in this house, and I will not forget it.a Wroxford, she thought as she walked downstairs to dinner. Thirty miles away. And Mollie was right. Thirty yards would be too far to go to see Hobsonas grave. Except that she had killed him, and no man, however bad, she believed, deserved death at anotheras hands. She must at least try to ease her conscience by kneeling at his grave.

Thirty miles. She would not be able to go there and back all within one day.

aBUT WROXFORD MUST BE thirty or thirty-five miles away,a the Reverend Booth said. aI cannot at all understand your wish to go there, Isabella. All you will see there is a grave, and perhaps a headstone. Why travel thirty miles for that?a It was quite early the following morning. Fleur had found herself unable to wait at home for someone to call upon her. She wanted to be on her way. She would not be able to rest or know any final peace of mind until she had been to Wroxford.

aWhen I ran away,a she said, ait was as if I left behind an unfinished story. I have the feeling that nothing is ended despite what his grace said yesterday. And I think I will still have this feeling even after Matthew has made his statement. I was involved in a death and did not stay for the funeral. I think that is one reason for funerals, isnat ita"to help those left behind accept the reality of the death.a aYou are fortunate enough to have been granted a reprieve,a the Reverend Booth said. aWhy not put it all behind you, Isabella? Why not start fresh today, forget everything that has gone before?a aAfter I have been to Wroxford I will,a she said. aI have been thinking, Daniel, and I think Miriamas suggestion is the very best thing for me. I will be happy in Miss Galenas cottage and I will enjoy teaching at Miriamas school. I will begin a new life, but I must go to Wroxford first. I was hoping that you would come with me. Wonat you?a He had been standing behind his desk since his housekeeper had shown her into his study. He came around it now. aGo with you?a he said. aHave you lost all sense of propriety, Isabella? It is not even very proper for you to be here alone with me when Miriam is busy at the school. It would take us two days to go to Wroxford and back.a aYes,a she said. aI thought you would not wish to see me go alone.a aI donat.a His tone was exasperated and he grasped her hands and squeezed them. aYou must forget this madness. You are about to be released from one scandal. I donat want even the breath of another to smear your character. I want you to be my wife. Perhaps Lord Brocklehurst will consent now to our marrying. If not, then I want to continue with our earlier plan. I will marry you by special license. Will you, Isabella?a Her eyes were on their clasped hands. aNo, Daniel,a she said. aThat is out of the question now.a aBecause of the scandal?a he said. aBut that is all over now. It was not so long ago that you were pleased at the idea of marrying me. You told me that you loved me.a aI canat marry you, Daniel,a she said. aToo much has happened.a He released her hands and turned away from her in order to shuffle a pile of papers on his desk. aI have been meaning to ask you about the Duke of Ridgeway,a he said, aand the strange fact of his following you here after going to extraordinary lengths to clear you of the charges against you. What is it all about, Isabella?a aHe is a kind man who cares for his employees,a she said. aI would say he is loved as well as respected by his servants.a aAnd by you?a he asked. aDo you love as well as respect him?a He had turned again. His blue eyes looked directly into hers.

aOf course not,a she said. Her eyes wavered and held on his.

aAnd what are his feelings for you?a he asked. aHe is a married man, is he not?a aI have told you,a Fleur said. aHe is a caring employer. He takes his responsibilities seriously.a aHe has nothing to do with your reluctance to marry me, then?a he asked.

She shook her head.

aI will say no more on the matter, then,a he said a little stiffly. aBut I am pleased that you are home and safe, Isabella. And I am pleased that you will be working with Miriam. She needs help and I know she values your friendship, as I do.a aThank you,a she said. She stood looking at him for a long moment. aDaniel, I would like to tell you the full truth.a aIt is often as well,a he said. aIt is good to unburden the conscience.a aWhen I was in London,a she said, aI was starving and I could find no employment at all. The time came when I had been two days without food.a He stood looking gravely at her.

aIt seemed to me at the time,a she said, aand I believe I was right, that I had three possible ways of surviving. I could beg or I could steal or I could aa She swallowed awkwardly. aOr I could offer my body for sale.a He did not help her. They stood in silence for a few moments.

aI sold my body,a she said. aOnce. I would have done so again and again if I had not been offered the governessas post that took me into Dorsetshire.a aYou are a whore,a he said very softly.

She covered her lips with one shaking hand and then lowered the hand again. aPresent tense?a she said. aIs that something that is always present tense?a aIsabella.a He turned away and leaned both arms on the desk. aThere must have been some alternative.a aThieves in London are very well-trained from infancy,a she said. aI donat believe I could have competed. Should I have died, Daniel? Should I have starved to death rather than become a whore?a aOh, dear God,a he said. aDear God.a And in the silence that followed, Fleur knew that his words had not been just an exclamation.

He lifted his head at last, though he did not turn around. aAre you sorry?a he asked. aHave you repented, Isabella?a aYes and no,a she said steadily after a pause. aI am more sorry than I can say that it happened, Daniel, but I am not sorry that I did it. I know that I would do it again if it were my only means of survival. I suppose I am not the stuff that martyrs are made of.a His head dropped again. aBut how can you expect Godas forgiveness if you do not truly repent?a he said.

aI think perhaps God understands,a she said. aIf he does not, then I suppose I have a quarrel with him.a He said nothing for a long while.

aSo you see,a she said, aI cannot marry you or anyone else, Daniel. For though I am not sorry for what I did, I do know that I am a fallen woman, and I am prepared to live with the consequences of that fact. I am going to Wroxford. By the time I return, you will doubtless have decided whether I am worthy to work with Miriam in the school.a She crossed the room quietly to the door.

His voice stopped her. aIsabella,a he said, adonat go there. It is not fitting, a lady alone.a aBut I am no real lady, am I?a she said. aDonat worry about me, Daniel. I will be back within a couple of days.a She let herself quietly out of the room and out of the house. She did not, as she had planned to do, walk along the village street to the school to call upon Miriam and the children. She untethered the horse that she had ridden from the house, mounted unassisted into the sidesaddle, and turned in the direction of home.

And she remembered her love for Daniel as if it were a thing of the distant past. A sweet memory that lingered in the mind but was incapable of being rekindled.

THE DUKE OF RIDGEWAY had left his carriage at the village inn and ridden over to Heron House. He did not have anything of value to report. The landlord of the inn and his customers had all known Hobson. None of them knew where he was from or where he had been taken for burial. One man had declared that he was from London, but a chorus of voices disagreed with some scorn. Hobson, it seemed, had not had a cockney accent.

The talk about the valet had led inevitably to talk about Fleur and her strange and unexpected return. No one, it seemed, believed her to be guilty. Hobson, his grace gathered, had been known as a nasty customer, and Brocklehurst himself was not highly regarded.

The announcement that would soon be made and the dropping of all charges against her would clearly only confirm what people already knew.

He wished he could have found the information Fleur wanted. He would have liked to do that, to know that she could go and see the grave and finally put behind her the nightmare of the past months. He would like to think back on her and know that she was at least at peace with herself and the world.

She was not at home, the butler at Heron House told him. And he did not know if she really was from home or if she had denied him. Either way, there was no real point in pressing the issue, he supposed. He had nothing to tell her and therefore no business seeing her. He should leave without further ado.

aKindly tell Miss Bradshaw that I was unable to find the information she wanted,a he told the butler, deciding that he would not wait.

He would go to London. That was probably where Brocklehurst had gone. It should be an easy matter to track him down and make sure that he had not delayed in putting everything right. And he would try to see to it that some settlement was made on Fleur until her twenty-fifth birthday. He would also see Brocklehurstas coachman so that he could send back to her details of the location of Hobsonas grave.

And then it would be home to Willoughby, Fleur Bradshaw set firmly out of his mind and out of his life. He would devote his energies to being a good father. And perhaps some sort of peaceful relationship could be established with Sybil. He would try, anyway.

His mind was made up. But all his resolutions wavered as he was riding away from the house and met Fleur at a bend in the driveway. She was wearing a black velvet riding habit and hat, a color which looked quite stunning against the vivid redgold of her hair.

aOh,a she said, ayou startled me.a aGood morning, Fleur,a he said. aI have just been to call on you. Iam afraid I have no good news, but I hope to be able to send some to you. I am going to London and plan to talk with your cousinas coachman.a aIt is Wroxford,a she said. aMy maid let it slip last night. Apparently all the servants have been instructed to keep their mouths shut around me.a aWroxford?a he said. aWhere is that?a aAbout thirty miles away,a she said. aDaniel says I am foolish to want to go there, and I suppose he is right. But I must go.a aYes,a he said, aI can understand that.a He watched the skill with which she restrained her frisky horse and watched the animation in her face. So vivid and so beautifula"and so unlike the way she had looked when he first saw her. aHe and Miss Booth are to go with you?a aOh, no,a she said. aMiriam has her school. She already took a day off yesterday for me. And Daniel cannot come. It would be improper.a aBut he would let you go alone?a he said. aIs not that far more improper?a aBut to be fair,a she said, smiling, ahe is not letting me do anything or stopping me from doing anything. He has no right.a aAnd you are going?a he said.

aYes.a Her horse was snorting and tossing its head and pawing the ground, impatient to be on its way.

aHas he had a gallop this morning?a he asked.

aNo,a she said. aBut I was about to give him one.a aCome along, then,a he said, and he led the way through the beech trees that lined the driveway to open tree-dotted parkland. He looked back to Fleur, who had followed him. aPerhaps you can keep up this time, since you have had your choice of horse and I do not have Hannibal with me.a She smiled at him and gave her horse the signal it had been waiting for.

He should not have done it, the duke thought. He should not have grabbed for himself this one final half-hour of sheer pleasure with her. And sheer pleasure it was, as it had been the last time they rode together. Fleur Bradshaw, it seemed, came fully alive when on horseback. She laughed across at him as her horse overtook his own, and was smiling when he passed her again as they circled up behind the stables and the house.

He should have said good-bye to her when they were on the driveway, and continued on his way. On his way out of her life.

He should not even have come. He should have sent Houghton. He should not be feeding a forbidden love.

But he would never see her again. Soon he would be gone, and he would not think of her or pine for her. He had a life to get on with and other people whose happiness to look to even if he could not expect any great happiness for himself.

One final half-hour. Surely he could be excused for stealing that much for himself.

Fleur overtook him once more and gradually reduced her horseas speed and turned it in the direction of home.

aThat should satisfy you,a she said, leaning forward to pat her horseas neck.

The duke dismounted and handed his reins to a waiting groom. He stretched up his arms to lift Fleur to the ground, and waited while the groom led both horses away. His hands were still at her waist.

aYou are leaving for Dorsetshire now?a she asked.

aLondon first,a he said. aI have some business to do there before returning home.a aYes,a she said. aWill you give my love to Lady Pamela and tell her that I miss her?a aYes,a he said. Her hands were on his arms. aFleur.a She smiled at his neckcloth. aGood-bye,a she said. aThank you for coming.a I love you, he wanted to tell her. Iall always love you, though I must leave you.

aIam coming to Wroxford with you,a he said. aIf we leave within the hour, we can probably reach there by tonight. Tomorrow you can see what you wish to see and we can be back here by tomorrow night. Iall return to the village for my carriage.a aNo,a she said. She was looking full into his eyes, her own wide and startled. aWe could not do that, your grace, you and I alone.a aAnd you cannot do it alone, either,a he said. aThere are such people as highwaymen out on our roads. And you must stop for meals and take a room for the night. It is out of the question for you to do those things alone.a She stared at him. Her hands were still on his arms, his at her waist. aWhy?a she almost whispered, leaning toward him. aYou have a home and a wife and a daughter to go back to. Why delay on my account?a aFleur aa he said. But he stopped and broke eye contact with her. He looked over her head to the stables, where the groom who had taken their horses was trying to look engrossed in his task of removing her sidesaddle. aI am coming with you. Go and change and pack a bag. I shall be here in one houras time or less.a She said nothing else, but watched him as he strode away from her, untethered his horse, and swung himself into the saddle.

aOne hour,a he said to her as he took his horse past her and turned its head for the driveway.

He had stolen half an hour and convinced himself that it was no serious sin against his responsibilities to his family and dependents.

Now he was stealing two days. He was not so sure he would be able to quiet his conscience this time.

Except that she needed him. For some reason that only she could understand fully, she needed to see the grave of the man she had accidentally killed. That grave was thirty miles away. She needed his escort.

And except that he loved her.

IT WAS A VERY comfortable carriage, Fleur thought, relaxing back against soft green cushions and noticing that the springs made a mockery of the rough roads over which they passed. What a difference from the journey she had made by the stage just a few days before.

And yet she was not relaxed, either. The Duke of Ridgeway sat beside her, both of them silent, just a small space separating their shoulders.

Why had he come? Why was he taking such an interest in her affairs? And why had she let him come? She might have said no. She might have argued the point more vigorously.

aWhy?a she asked, as she had more than an hour before outside the stables. aWhy are you here in Wiltshire? Why are you taking me to Wroxford?a He did not look at her, but out of the window. She thought for a while that he would not answer.

aYou know that you did not murder your cousinas valet,a he said, athat in large measure you are not responsible for his death. And yet you have to see your involvement with him to its conclusion. You have to make this journey, a thing that very few people except you would understand. I feel something similar with you.a She said nothing more for a while. She understood his answer. It made sense to her.

aI donat understand,a she said at last. aI have never understood it, though in your case I find it particularly difficult to understand. The duchess is very beautiful. You have a daughter who thrives on your love and a home that must be one of the loveliest in all England. Why do men like you need women for casual and sordid relations? I donat understand.a He continued to look out of the window. aI canat answer for other men,a he said, aonly for myself. I will not say much about my marriage, Fleur, because I owe my wife privacy, if not myself. I will only say that it is a difficult and an unhappy marriage and has been from the start. Sometimes it is difficult not to feel certain cravings. But I was faithful to my marriage until that one occasion with you.a Fleur looked at his profile, at the scarred side of his face. Cravings? Did he not have a normal marriage?

aI donat know why it happened on that occasion,a he said. aI had not planned it and you did nothing to entice me. You stood still and quiet in the shadows. I could not even see you clearly. Perhaps aa He stopped talking, and Fleur thought that he would not continue. But he did after a while. aPerhaps something in me recognized you. I donat know.a aRecognized?a The word came out as a whisper.

aMy pearl beyond price,a he said quietly.

Fleur watched him swallow.

aAnd then I was angry,a he said, abecause having made the decision to be unfaithful, I wanted a night of forgetfulness. I wanted to be able to blame you afterward. But you did nothing, only allowed me to use you. It was a dreadful experience for you, Fleur, and it was quite unpleasant for me. I got what I deserved, I suppose.a aWhy did you send Mr. Houghton to find me?a she asked. aWas it just guilt?a He turned and looked at her for the first time. aFor a long time I told myself that that was the reason,a he said. aI suppose that with my head I am still telling myself that. Donat probe any further, Fleur.a They stared at each other for a long while before she looked down at her hand, which was lying palm-down on the seat between them. No, she would probe no further. She did not want to know the truth. It was too strange, the fate that had brought them together, and too cruel.

She could feel his eyes on her hand too. And he set his own beside it, that beautiful long-fingered hand that had once terrified her and that still disturbed her and made her feel breathless. Their little fingers almost touched.

They sat like that, still and silent, for a long while before he moved his little finger to stroke lightly over hers. And she spread hers and bent it so that their two fingers twined together.

Their eyes watched their hands. They touched at only the one point. They said nothing.

THEY STOPPED FOR A MEAL THAT WAS NEITHER luncheon nor dinner, and continued on their way. There was a strange ease between them, the Duke of Ridgeway thought. Strange because they had traveled for several hours in near-silence and had eaten their meal without a great deal of conversation. Strange because they were alone together after all that had passed between them. There should have been an awkwardness, an embarrassment, but there was not.

When they resumed their seats in the carriage and it drew out of the innyard onto the open road again, he took her hand in his and rested their clasped hands on the seat between them. She made no resistance. She curled her fingers around his hand.

He wished that they had three hundred miles to travel, not thirty. Or three thousand.

He could feel her eyes on him, but he did not turn his head. He wished, as he had wished at the start of their journey, that he had thought of sitting on the other side of her, his good profile facing her.

aHow did it happen?a she asked him quietly.