"I thought to spare her, and it was my fault."

"You can't protect her." Mrs. Covington turned the shepherdess on the mantel so she could look out the window. "No one is harder on my lady than she is on herself. But I think you understand how that is? Are you not the same way?"

He was. One of the reasons he had taken risks in battle, leading his men himself and always volunteering for the difficult assignments, was that he didn't want anyone to think later that he had not carried his own weight. It was a point of honor to him.

"I believe Lady Rosalyn was upset because she knows how much the piece means to you," he said.

Mrs. Covington made a shush of aggravation. "She means more than a piece of pottery, and she knows that. She's also rarely clumsy. What did you say to her before the figurine broke?"

"I'd asked her if she'd dreamed about me."

A light came on in the older woman's eyes. "What was her answer? She was very out of sorts this morning."

"She didn't answer. The porcelain slipped from her hand."

"That is an answer," Mrs. Covington said, her face a wreath of smiles. "My dear, dear colonel. You are an answer to my most secret prayers." She took his hand. "I know you seek your own gain, but my lady is a wonderful woman. She has so much love inside her, and yet she holds it back. Please, save her."

Colin shifted uncomfortably. He had never been one to play Lancelot. Sir Galahad, yes. "Our marriage would be a good investment for us both."

Mrs. Covington frowned. "Bah to investments!" She released his hand. "Perhaps you aren't the right man," she said, her voice more disdainful than anything Lady Rosalyn could have used. "Good day, sir."

She turned and walked out of the room.

He stood there, alone, puzzled over how he'd ended up that way. He looked to the shepherdess. "Didyou understand any of that?"Her painted smile mocked him.Colin knew when he'd been dismissed. He left, but as he mounted Oscar, he knew he would be back.

Rosalyn assumed she'd not have to deal with Colonel Mandland again. He was gone, probably for good. Men were not known for courting difficult women-and she had been difficult. She could tell, because Covey pointedly did not mention his name again.

Then Rosalyn surprised herself, because she was the one to say his name. She couldn't help herself.Over dinner, she said, "The colonel's horse has ruined the rosebushes. Do you think he will notice?""A few men dote on flowers," Covey answered."He doesn't strike me as the type."A sly smile appeared in Covey's eyes. "I think you are right."So Colonel Mandland surprised them both the next afternoon when he arrived with a rosebush."Where did you get this?" Rosalyn asked.

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" he prompted.

"Thank you," she said, still stunned. The plant was healthy, although dearly needing to be planted. And it dawned on Rosalyn that no one had given her a gift in a very, very long time.

"I must confess, Val suggested the gift," he said. "I told her Oscar has eaten a good number of your

flowers, and he and I should make amends before you send us out the door."

It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him she had done exactly that more than once... but the tart words died in her throat. A gift. And such a thoughtful one... "Do you know what color it is?"

"The roses?" He smiled. "Red."

Even Covey was impressed, and the colonel knew he'd done well.

"We should plant it now," he said. "If planted this early in the spring, Val said it could bloom this summer.

I actually know very little about flowers except that Oscar seems to have quite a taste for them."

The minute he talked about planting, it struck Rosalyn what his motive might be. He probably thought she

would want to stay at Maiden Hill and see the roses bloom. Clever, clever Colonel Mandland... because he was right.

"We could plant it right outside this window," he suggested. "That way the shepherdess can oversee its

growing."

Covey glanced at Rosalyn, who couldn't help but smile. Who would have thought a gentleman could be so fanciful? Or successfully woo two women at once.

"Yes," Rosalyn agreed. "We should plant it there."

Old John was called in to supervise the planting. He was happy to have a new rose. The four of them- John, the colonel, Covey, and Rosalyn- had a little planting ceremony, which ended in laughter.

No mention was made of the upcoming move... and there was more than one moment when Rosalyn felt in perfect accord with Colonel Mandland. More than one moment when their eyes met. More than one moment when they exchanged asides for their benefit alone.

At one point, they could hear Lord Loftus's hunting dogs barking and baying in the distance in pursuit of "his" fox. "The man is possessed," the colonel murmured, and Rosalyn was startled because she'd just had the same thought.

It was on the tip of Rosalyn's tongue to invite him to stay for dinner, and yet she was shy. As it was, he took his leave, making a grand show of ordering Oscar not to nibble on the rose's tender leaves.

Rosalyn went into the house but stood in the sitting room window and watched him ride out of sight.

That night, she dreamed of babies again... and she was afraid. This was the sort of obsession for one person that had claimed her father's sanity and life. In the darkest hours of the night, Rosalyn lay awake, staring at the ceiling, and she knew she must do all to protect her heart.

Chapter Six.

The next day was Sunday, and a more perfect spring day would have been hard to find. Who could avoid attending church on such a lovely morning?

Rosalyn was kneeling in prayer before the Sunday service when the hairs tingled on the back of her neck.

Colonel Mandland had arrived.

She couldn't resist stealing a look at the door, and she hoped no one noticed; if they did, she would be embarrassed. Her days as a green girl were gone. A woman should be more sophisticated in her interest...

He caught her looking at him and grinned.

Hot color flooded her cheeks. She knew everyone must have seen him smile at her. She bowed her head and forced herself to return to her prayers... until he slipped into the pew beside her.

He was a big man and took up most of the narrow space. If they hadn't seen him smile at her, then certainly, everyone in the church noticed him sitting beside her. Rosalyn could feel their speculation, and she could catch the barest hint of whispered comments travel through the congregation. Some were probably laughing at her, while others would suggest it was a pity Lord Loftus had to buy her a husband. Or that she was brazenly throwing herself at the colonel.

It was the pity that hit her hardest. Wellbornes had no use for pity. She could recall her father saying that.

Colonel Mandland leaned close to her bonnet. "I almost didn't recognize you without a dust rag in your hands."

If he'd meant it as a compliment or a joke, she didn't take it as such. She was too conscious that everyone watched them.

He knew immediately he had upset her. "I was jesting."

She ignored him, keeping her eyes on the pew ahead. She didn't like the awkwardness of being singled out. It reminded her of the days when she'd had to move into a new household where everyone, including herself and the servants, wondered what her status was.

Before Colonel Mandland, everyone respected her. Now, considering the number of stares and nudges she saw in the sanctuary, she wasn't so certain.

Covey had no such insecurities. She leaned around Rosalyn and welcomed him with a smile.

The service started. This was good. Rosalyn could pretend Colonel Mandland wasn't standing by her side-except that he wanted to share her prayer book, a gesture almost more intimate than a kiss.

Reverend Mandland liked singing. He incorporated it in the worship service, usually before the sermon. He had a strong, fine voice, and the parish enjoyed singing with him.

Colonel Mandland was not as gifted as his brother. Yes, his voice was strong, but off key. Still, he sang with enthusiasm and knew the hymns by heart.

If no one had noticed them before, they certainly couldn't have avoided noticing them now.

Perhaps if she and Colonel Mandland had been a love match, Rosalyn could have handled all the attention. She would have looked up at him with adoring eyes and thought his flat-noted singing endearing.

Instead, she wished he would mouth the words the way she did so as not to draw undue notice.

She barely heard the sermon, which seemed to be a homily directed at the colonel about how one should have a better goal in life than ambition.

Meanwhile, inside herself, she struggled with what seemed to be a thousand demons. She was too conscious of him, of his thigh that brushed against hers, of his arm that bumped hers, of the scent of him, of the sound of his breathing, of every detail and nuance.

Colonel Mandland's mercenary pursuit for her hand and the Commons seat was threatening her sanity. She longed for the days-a mere week ago-when her life had been orderly and exactly as she had arranged it.

Was it the incense in the church or his presence that made her a bit dizzy?

When the service came to an end, she wanted to shoot out of her seat-except he was blocking her exit. Nor was he in a hurry to leave. He took his time, greeting the other members of the church, giving the impression to one and all that they were decidedly a couple.

Rosalyn wondered what he would do if she were to climb over the pew trying to get around him. It wasn 't fair of him to threaten her this way. A call at Maiden Hill was one thing. Being courted in public was another. She was too old for such nonsense. She keenly felt her age when she caught sight of a number of children avidly watching her, as if she was going to be the topic of many a table conversation in the evening.

Consequently, when the colonel did turn his attention to her, she was definitely cold to him. "You're upset," he observed, unrepentant.

"I'm ready to go home. If you would please excuse me?"

He didn't move, and at that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Blair walked up to wish them well. Mrs. Blair pretended to converse with Covey, but Rosalyn noticed that her beady eyes didn't miss a thing. So, when Colonel Mandland- finally!- stepped out of the pew into the narrow aisle and placed his hand possessively on Rosalyn's elbow, she had to pull away. She didn't want to give the gossips any more fodder than they already had.

Colonel Mandland got the hint, and his reaction was stronger than the time she'd slapped him. He understood, and he was offended. She could tell by the sudden tension in his body. The smile on his face became more pronounced and less genuine. He knew she did not want to be in public with him. Not until she'd had a chance to sort out her feelings.

The wall went up between them, and this time, it was made of bricks.

She wanted to say good.

Instead, she slipped by him, waited for Covey, and, taking her friend's arm, walked out of the sanctuary. She could feel him watching her leave, and she sensed his silent command for her to turn around and come back right that minute.

In the vestibule, Rosalyn stepped aside to let Covey pass first out the door. Only then, a heartbeat before she followed, did she look back to Colonel Mandland.

Their gazes met-and then he turned away.

She went outside.

Covey waited, anxious to keep Rosalyn a moment before mingling with the other parishioners who were visiting and enjoying the lovely weather. "What was that about?"

"What was what about?" Rosalyn said. She smiled at Mrs. Sheffield and Mrs. Blair, who stood perhaps ten feet from them, their heads together in gossip.

"Did you truly mean to cut Colonel Mandland in front of those biddies?" Covey asked.

Rosalyn looked at her. "Colonel Mandland is presumptuous. He makes his own bed."

"He'd like to make yours," Covey responded, surprising Rosalyn with her bluntness.

She blinked a moment, a rush of undefined feelings circulating through her at the thought of being in that man's bed. "He wants the Commons seat," she reminded herself. "He cares not a whit for me."

"You can make him care."

"No," Rosalyn replied, more to herself than Covey. Knowing she sounded abrupt to her friend, she attempted to explain all the reasons she'd thought of through sleepless nights. "I know there are those who feel every woman should be married, no matter what the cost. But, Covey, my pride is the only legacy my father gave me. I'll not sacrifice it. I'll not sell myself to marriage."

Covey placed a gloved hand on Rosalyn's arm. "I had thought, especially after yesterday, that you were not adverse to his suit."

"Do you believe me so shallow as to fall in his arms for no other reason than because he is handsome, charming, and brought me flowers?"

Rosalyn shook her head. "My father courted my mother. He did everything for her, and in the end, it meant nothing."

"You can't judge marriage from what your parents had. Alfred and I-"

"Alfred and you were the exception, not the rule. My cousins all married well, and there is not one of them who can abide their husbands. I used to listen to my aunts vent their frustrations over the treatment they received from their husbands. Yes, Lord and Lady Loftus seem a good match, but look at the others. Mr. and Mrs. Blair speak civilly only in church. The Lovejoyces are famous for their battles. Covey, the list goes on and on."

Rosalyn tried to explain herself and the feelings she'd rooted out the night before. "I want more." There, she'd said it. "I'm not certain what more is. Perhaps this is a legacy from my mother. My father's title wasn't enough. It couldn't keep her by his side. Sometimes I wish I'd met that riding instructor. Perhaps I would understand why she hurt so many people-all in the name of love."

"Oh, my lady, who knows why we hurt others? But we all do, often unintentionally."

"I don't, Covey. I don't."