At last. Ah, at last. The more than fifteen months since he had squeezed her hands and said good-bye and jumped into this very carriage to be taken away from her seemed longer than forever. Far longer.

FLEUR WAS TEACHING READING to a group of the youngest children while Miriam was conducting a geography lesson with the others.

But it was doubtful that anyone was learning a great deal, Fleur thought, smiling at one little boy to bring his attention back to the lesson. There was an air of suppressed excitement in the room. It did not take a great deal to excite these children. They were to go on a nature ramble as soon as morning classes were over, taking their luncheon with them. It was the end of September, the last opportunity they would have for such an outing before the weather grew too cold.

She and Miriam were to accompany the children, as well as Daniel, who often came into the school to give a scripture lesson, and Dr. Wetherald, who had been showing a marked preference for Miriam in the past several months, though Miriam declared in her usual cheerful, forthright manner that they were just friends. Fleur had been interested to note, though, that her friend blushed when saying so.

There really was no need of so many adult chaperones, Fleur thought, but it was a treat for them, too, to get out into the fresh air and the countryside for the whole of an afternoon.

A knock on the door destroyed the last vestiges of the childrenas attention. Fleur smiled and shook her head as the eyes of her group of children, and doubtless their minds too, followed Miriam to the door.

aIs Miss Hamilton here, please?a a polite young voice asked.

Fleur spun around on her chair.

aI am afraid there is no one of that name here, my dear,a Miriam said. aAre you a?a aPamela!a Fleur was up out of her chair and hurrying across the room, her arms outstretched. aHere I am. Oh, how tall you have grown, and how good it is to see you.a She bent down to hug the child and was instantly aware of a tall, dark figure standing some distance behind her, against the crested carriage.

aPapa says the air of the Continent has made me grow,a Lady Pamela said. aTiny is in the carriage, Miss Hamilton. Wait until you see how she has grown. She is not tiny any longer.

And I was not sick coming across in the boat from France, though some of the ladies were.a Fleur was stooped down in front of her. aI am very proud of you,a she said. aAnd are you on your way home?a If her life had depended upon it, she did not believe she could have shifted her gaze to the man standing a few feet away.

aYes,a Lady Pamela said. aI can scarcely wait. But Papa wanted to come here first. I am not to tell why. I got to tell you about not being sick on the boat.a Fleur laughed. And she was aware suddenly of the hum of voices behind her. She straightened up and turned.

aThis is Lady Pamela Kent,a she said, taking the child by the hand and drawing her into the schoolroom. aShe has just come from a year of traveling on the Continent. This is Miss Booth, Pamela, and all the children of the village.a Lady Pamela smiled about her and moved closer to Fleuras side. Miriam was curtsyinga"to Lady Pamela and beyond her.

aGood morning, your grace,a she said. aChildren, make your bows and curtsies to his grace, the Duke of Ridgeway, if you please.a And Fleur turned her head jerkily at last and met his eyes.

And she felt instant shock. He was taller than she remembered, his hair blacker, his eyes more piercingly dark, his nose more prominent, his scar more noticeable. All had been softened in memory. She felt an unexpected surging of the old fear.

She curtsied to him. aYour grace,a she murmured.

He inclined his head to her and to the room in general. aGood morning,a he said. aI hate to interrupt classes, but if I know young people and the way their minds work, I would guess that I am the most popular man in the village at the moment.a Giggles from the girls, shouts of laughter from the boys.

Classes were at an end, it seemed. The girls were openly admiring Lady Pamelaas fashionable clothes and she was eyeing them with shy interest. The boys were gazing at the duke in some awe. He was conversing politely with Miriam. And then Dr. Wetherald was there, and Daniel too, and Lady Pamela was gazing pleadingly up at her father.

aMay I, Papa?a she was saying. aOh, please, may I?a aYou are hardly dressed to go rambling,a he was saying with a smile.

aBut I have other dresses,a she said. aI can change. Oh, please, Papa. Please. Miss Hamilton, may I go? Please?a Miriam was looking very directly at her. It was Miriam, it seemed, who had suggested that Lady Pamela might enjoy joining the school ramble, though his grace must realize that they intended to be gone for several hours.

aOnly Papa can say yes to that,a Fleur said, smiling at the eager, pretty face of her former pupil. aBut I know you would have a great deal of fun.a One minute later Lady Pamela was dashing for the carriage, having been granted the permission she had begged for.

aI am going to bring Tiny,a she shrieked. aMay I, Miss Hamilton?a Miriam was laughing. aI will take very good care of her, your grace,a she said. aAnd my brother and Dr. Wetherald will be with me to lend a hand. Three adults will be more than enough. We will not need your presence, Isabella. You had better stay to entertain his grace, since he will have a wait of several hours.a Fleur opened her mouth to speak and closed it again.

It seemed that all the children found it impossible to speak in less than a shriek. The schoolroom sounded very quiet indeed when all of them and the three adults had set off on their way.

aMiss Booth is a kind lady,a the Duke of Ridgeway said from behind her shoulder. aPamela will talk about this treat for weeks to come.a aYes,a she said. aI am glad for her, your grace.a aYour grace?a he said quietly.

She glanced over her shoulder and fixed her eyes on his neckcloth.

aCan we go somewhere else?a he asked. aTo your home, maybe?a aYes,a she said. aIt is quite close by.a She locked the school carefully and walked by his side along the street to her cottage. They did not touch or speak a single word.

SHE LAID DOWN THE BOOKS SHE HAD BEEN CARRYING and watched him set his hat and gloves on a table. She turned and led the way into a square and cozy parlor, the pianoforte in one corner dwarfing the rest of the furniture in the room.

It was as he had thought, as he had led himself to expect. She was not really pleased to see him. She was awkward and embarrassed.

aWonat you have a seat, your gr a?a Her hand was gesturing to a chair. She stopped and flushed.

So very beautiful. His breath had caught in his throat as soon as he had seen her stooping down to hug Pamela. More beautiful even than he had remembered. There was a poise about her, a sense of dignity that was more pronounced than it had been before.

He was very aware of his own ugliness, of his scar. And he had to consciously resist the impulse to turn sideways so that she would not see it.

aI shall ring for some tea,a she said, aand for something to eat. It is luncheontime. Doubtless you have been traveling since breakfast, have you? You must be hungry.a aI am not,a he said quietly. aAre you happy, then? The school seems to be a merry place. This is a cozy cottage, and larger than I expected.a aYes.a She smiled at him. aI am happy. I am doing what I like doing, and I am surrounded by my friends.a aI am glad,a he said. aI had to come to make sure.a aThank you,a she said. aThat was good of you. You must be very eager to be home, having been away so long.a aYes,a he said. aVery eager.a And yet, he thought, he had not prepared himself well at all. He had thought he had. He had thought he was prepared for the worst. But his heart was a lead weight in his chest and he could not think of home or the winter ahead or of all the years after that.

Not without Fleur. Willoughby would not be home without her, or the future worth living. Not after a year of hope that he had tried to persuade himself was not hope at all.

She plumped a cushion on a chair quite unnecessarily and sat down, although he had not accepted her invitation to seat himself.

And she searched in her mind for something to say and kept her expression politely bright.

For a whole montha"for eleven monthsa"she had persuaded herself that he would not come, that he would forget about her, regret his hasty words of love to her. And yet for the past month she had expected him hourly and told herself and told herself that he would not come.

He was standing in her parlor, his hands behind his back, looking dark and morose, looking as if he wished to be anywhere else on earth but where he was.

He had come out of a sense of duty, because he had said he would come. Adam and his damnable sense of duty! She hated him again, wished him a million miles away.

aYou have not been troubled by Brocklehurst or his family?a he asked her stiffly.

aNo,a she said. aI have heard nothing of Matthew, though rumor has placed him anywhere from South America to India. Cousin Caroline is here, but I believe she intends to visit her daughter for the winter.a aAnd the Reverend Booth and his sister are still your friends,a he said. aI am glad.a aYes,a she said.

She wished with all her heart that Lady Pamela had not gone on the ramble. She wished that he could leave without further delay. She wished she could start living the rest of her life.

If only he had not allowed Pamela to go with the other children, he thought. If only there were some way he could leave immediately. He could take himself off to the village inn, he supposed, but if he suggested doing so, she would think that she had failed in hospitality.

aThank you for the pianoforte,a she said. aI have not had a chance to thank you before. You intended it to be kept in the schoolroom, of course, but both Miriam and Daniel agreed that it would be safer here.a aYou know that it was a gift for you alone,a he said.

And he watched broodingly as she flushed and looked down at her clasped hands. Her knuckles were white with tension.

He remembered her hands touching him, moving lightly over the wounds on his side. He remembered her telling him he was beautiful. He remembered her telling him that she loved him. He felt an almost overwhelming sadness. He strolled toward the pianoforte and stood looking down at the keys. He depressed one of them.

aThe tone is good?a he asked.

aIt is a beautiful instrument,a she said. aIt is my most prized possession.a He smiled, and he glanced up at the vase standing on the pianoforte and the letter propped against it. He reached out and picked the letter up.

aThis is my letter to you,a he said.

aYes.a She got to her feet, flushing, and reached out a hand for it.

aHas it been there for almost a year?a he asked.

aYes.a She laughed breathlessly. aIt must have been. I am not a very tidy person.a He glanced about him at the neat, uncluttered room. And he felt a quite unreasonable surging of hope.

aWhy?a he asked her. aWhy do you keep it there?a She shrugged. aI a I donat know,a she said foolishly. She could think of no reasonable explanation. How foolish he would think her. How humiliating if he should guess the truth. She smiled, her hand still outstretched for the letter. aI shall put it away.a aFleur?a he said.

She dropped her hand. She had told him just a little more than a year before that she loved him and always would. Should she be ashamed now that she had spoken the simple truth? Was pride to be guarded at all costs?

aBecause it is not only the pianoforte that is my most treasured possession,a she said, fixing her eyes on the top button of his waistcoat. aThat is too. I keep them together.a aFleur,a he said softly.

aI have nothing else of you,a she said. aJust those two things.a She wished she could see that button clearly. She wished that he would not see her with tears in her eyes. But she was not ashamed of loving him. She had said she would and she did.

She watched the blur of white as he tossed the letter aside. She watched his waistcoat come closer. She felt his hands framing her face.

Her jaw was set hard. Her face looked as if made of stone. But there were the tears glistening on her eyelashes. And there were her words. And the letter, propped on top of the pianoforte almost a year after she had received it.

aMy love,a he said, cupping her face in his hands. If she was to reject him, then so be it. But she would know that he had kept faith with her, that he still loved her more than life and would do so always.

He watched her bite at her upper lip, reach out with trembling hands to touch his waistcoat, withdraw her hands again.

aI love you,a he said. aNothing has changed in the fifteen months since I told you that. And nothing will ever change.a aOh,a she said. She could find no other words and knew that she would not be able to speak them even if she did. She reached out to touch him again and found her hands to be as far beyond her control as her voice was.

But she did not have to find words. Or control. His head bent to hers and his lips touched her own and parted over them, and his hands left her cheeks, one arm to come about her shoulders and the other about her waist. She was drawn against the strength of him, and it did not matter that she was trembling.

Fleur. Soft and warm and feminine, her body arched unashamedly to his, her lips parting beneath his own, her mouth opening to his tongue, her arms coming up about his neck.

Fleur. He allowed himself the full luxury of hope.

aI love you too,a she whispered against his mouth. She kept her eyes closed. There could be no more thought to pride. aI have not stopped loving you for even a moment. And the letter is not always against the vase. Only by day. By night it is beneath my pillow.a aOn the assumption that the pianoforte is too large to put there?a he said with such unexpected humor that she burst into laughter.

He joined in the laughter and hugged her to him.

aFleur,a he said at last against her ear, athis cannot really be the first time I have laughed in a year, can it? But it feels like it.a She drew her head back and looked fully at him for the first time. aI thought I would never see you again,a she said. aWhen you broke every bone in my hands that morning and jumped into your carriage and drove away, I thought I would never ever see you again.a aWell,a he said, smiling at her, athat should be no tragedy. I am not much to look at, am I?a aI donat know,a she said, tilting her head to one side. aArenat you? To me you are all the world.a aA dark and scarred world,a he said.

aA beautiful world,a she said. aA face with character. The face I love most in all the world.a He took her quite by surprise suddenly by bending down and scooping her up into his arms and sitting with her on his lap on a sofa.

aGuess what I have in my pocket,a he said.

aI donat know.a She circled his neck with her arms and smiled at him. aA priceless jewel you bought for me.a aNo,a he said. aTry again.a aA snuffbox,a she said.

aI donat use the stuff,a he said. aYou are not even close.a aA linen handkerchief,a she said.

aMy other pocket.a He was laughing again, and she with him. aWhat do I have in my other pocket?a aI donat know,a she said. aHow am I supposed to guess?a aYou should know,a he said. aWhat, of all other things, would I be sure to bring with me when I came for you at last?a She shook her head, her smile fading.

aA special license,a he said, suddenly serious too. aA special license, my love, so that I can make you mine without delay once I have got you to say yes.a aAdam,a she said, touching his scarred cheek. aOh, Adam.a aWill you?a he said. aWill you marry me, Fleur? I know I am no prize, and you know some unsavory things about me. But you would have my undivided love and devotion for the rest of a lifetime. And you would be a duchess, if that is any lure, and mistress of Willoughby. Will you, Fleur?a aAdam,a she said, tracing the line of the scar downward from his eye to the corner of his mouth. aThink carefully, do. Think of what you know about me, about what I was, what I am.a aA whore?a he said so that her eyes flew to his in shock and her face flushed painfully. aI am going to tell you something, Fleur, and I want you to listen very carefully. Sybil had consumption. It is very unlikely that she would have survived this year. But she could have had that year or part of it, anyway. She could have had my support and even affection and all of Pamelaas love. But she had had one cruel disappointment in life and another lesser one last summer. She lost her will to live. She would not accept the comfort I tried to give her. She almost totally ignored Pamela. And finally, when she had word of Thomasa deatha"before I dida"she took what little remained of her life.a aThe poor lady,a Fleur said. aI do feel desperately sorry for her, Adam.a aSo did I,a he said. aBut listen to me, Fleur. You were put into a dreadful situation over a year ago. You faced either a noose about your neck or a nightmare of a marriage if you went back home, or starvation if you stayed in hiding. But did you give in to self-pity? No. You fought, doing everything you had to do to survive. You did the ultimate, Fleur. You became a whore. I pity my wife. I honor you more than I can say in words.a She swallowed. aPerhaps because you know you were the only one,a she said. aHow would you feel if there had been a dozen others? Two dozen? More?a aFit to kill,a he said. aBefore my marriage, Fleur, I slept with more than a dozen women. I could not possibly put a number on them, the women I bedded. How do you feel about that?a She was silent for a while. aFit to kill,a she said.

aDoes it make you stop loving me?a he asked.

aNo.a She laid a palm against his cheek. aThat is in the past, Adam. I have no control over that and you cannot change it. I donat care about your past.a aAnd I donat care about yours,a he said. aWill you be my duchess, Fleur?a aPamela?a she said.

aShe seemed a little troubled that I was willing to sacrifice myself by making you my wife just so that I could also make you her mama,a he said. aI had to assure her that it was what I wanted too.a He smiled.

aShe adored her mother,a she said.

aYes, and always will,a he said. aWe will have to make sure that she never forgets Sybil, Fleur. And we will hope that memory somewhat distorts the truth. We will hope that she remembers Sybil as a constantly attentive mother as well as a beautiful and indulgent one. You will never be her mother, but you can be her stepmother. And I can tell you from experience that it is possible for her to love both. I have faint, flashing images of my mother and have always associated those images with unconditional love. But I was dearly fond of my stepmother, Thomasa mother.a She lowered her head to his shoulder.

aWill you marry me?a aYes,a she said, and closed her eyes. There were no other words to say. How could one put into words a happiness that filled one so full to the brim that it was almost a pain?

He settled his cheek against the top of her head and closed his eyes. And felt that there was no further need of words for the moment. It was as he remembered it the night they made love. They could communicate more perfectly through the silence than through the imperfection of words.

aI have a confession to make,a he said at last. aI dreaded having a letter from you to say you were with child, and yet I looked for that letter and hoped for it. You see how in my selfishness I would have made you suffer?a aI cried when I knew I was not,a she said.

He laughed softly and turned her face up to his with one hand at her chin and kissed her deeply and lingeringly.

aWe will have you with child just as soon as can be,a he said. aTonight maybe?a aTonight?a She was laughing against his neck.

aOn our wedding night,a he said. aIs it too soon?a aTonight?a aWe can wait if you want,a he said. aWe can have a planned wedding. We can have it in London if you wish, with half the ton in attendance. I daresay even the king would come if we invited him. But I would rather have it today, Fleur. We could spend our first night here in your cottage. Do you have a guest room for Pamela?a aYes,a she said, touching his lips with one light finger. aI have dreamed of having you here with me, Adam. My arms have been so empty without you and my bed so cold.a aThey will not be empty tonight, my love,a he said, aand the bed will be warm. And you will not need to dream any longer. It will all be reality.a aI wonat need your letter beneath my pillow tonight,a she said.

aOr the pianoforte either,a he said, and they both laughed and hugged each other.

aOh, Adam,a she said, aI have been so lonely without you. It has seemed such an eternity.a He turned her face up again and they smiled at each other.

aNo longer,a he said. aNo more loneliness, Fleur, for either of us. Only our marriage and our children and Willoughby and growing old together. Only our love forever.a He lowered his head and kissed her mouth softly. aAnd longer than forever.a

On sale August 2006

Simply Love

IT WAS NOT THAT HE FELT INTIMIDATED, BUT Sydnam Butler was nevertheless moving out of Glandwr House into the thatched, whitewashed cottage that lay in a small clearing among the trees not far from the sea cliffs on one side and the park gates and driveway on the other.

As steward of the estate for the past five years, Sydnam had lived in his own spacious apartments in the main house, and he had always continued to live there even when the owner, the Duke of Bewcastle, was in residence. Bewcastle had always come alone and had never stayed for longer than a few weeks at a time.

But this coming visit was going to be altogether different from what he was accustomed to. This time Bewcastle was bringing his wife with him. Sydnam had never met the Duchess of Bewcastle. He had heard from his brother Kit, Viscount Ravensberg, who lived on the estate adjoining Lindsey Hall, that she was a jolly good sort, who had been known to coax laughter even from such a perennial iceberg as Bewcastle.

Sydnam was somewhat shy with strangers, especially when they were to be sharing a roof with him. And no sooner had he grown accustomed to the idea that the duchess was accompanying Bewcastle on this particular visit than he received another brief letter from his graceas secretary to the effect that all the other Bedwyns were coming too, with their spouses and children, to spend a month or so by the sea.

Sydnam had grown up with the Bedwyns. They had all been playmates together, despite a broad range in their agesa"the boisterous Bedwyn boys; the fierce Freyja, who had always refused to be treated as a girl; and Morgan, who though the youngest of them all and female to boot had usually found a way to be included in the frolics; and the Butlers, Kit and Sydnam and their late eldest brother, Jerome. All except Wulfric, now Bewcastle, in fact.

Sydnam was not intimidated by the prospect of their coming to Glandwr, then. He was only a little overwhelmed by it. They were all married now. He had met some of their spousesa"Lady Aidan, Lady Rannulf, the Marquess of Hallmerea"and he had found them all amiable enough. And they all had children now.