"By the powers vested in me by G.o.d and the Church of England, I now p.r.o.nounce you man and wife," the reverend said. And bowing his head over the Bible he held, he began to read a blessing aloud to them.

Amelia did not hear a single word he said. She and Simon were married, and in another moment, he and Lucas would ride away.

What if she never saw him again?

How could this be happening?

"Reverend." Lucas firmly interrupted, stepping forward. "We have to go. Thank you, sir."

Amelia didn't even see the exchange. Tears were blinding her. She was aware of Simon putting his arm around her and walking her down the nave of the old church. Her low heels clicked on the stone floors. He pushed open the heavy wood-and-iron door, the hinges moaning, and they stepped into the small sodden garden outside. Red roses sparkled with drops of water, as did a huge hydrangea bush.

Amelia shivered, suddenly freezing. Her coach was parked on the street beyond the church's front gates. Two horses were tied to its rear fender. Small bags were strapped to the saddles.

Could she survive without Simon? He was the love of her life!

Simon pulled her into his arms. "I wonder if that ceremony was even valid?" But he did not smile at her.

She wished she could laugh about the ten-minute service. She wondered if she would ever laugh-or smile-again. "I don't care if it is valid or not. In the eyes of G.o.d, we are man and wife." She began to cry.

"Don't. Amelia, this is a time of war. We cannot control our destinies. We can only respond to fate the best that we can."

"d.a.m.n whoever betrayed you, Simon! You are a patriot, and now, you must flee the country as an outlaw!"

He pulled her close and held her, hard. "Remind the children of how much I love them." He looked down at her. "Never forget how much I love you."

She couldn't stand the pain of their impending separation. Her heart was crushed with anguish. "I know you are coming back to us. I know it!" she cried.

"Warlock will lobby Windham until the charges are dropped." Simon was firm. But doubt was reflected in his eyes.

"I love you so much."

He held her, hard, and they both knew that their embrace might be the last time they were in one another's arms.

He somehow let her go. She stepped back, but she held his hands. "Write to us when you can."

"If I can get word to you, I will. Amelia-I want you to return to Cornwall. You will be safer there." He suddenly glanced past her.

Amelia half turned and saw Lucas hurrying from the small stone church, his face grim, urgency flashing in his eyes. It was time.

Frantic, she faced him. "I love you. I always have. I will never stop."

His grasp on her hands briefly tightened, and then he released her.

"We have to go. I want to be as far from the city as possible when night falls," Lucas said sharply, reaching them. Then, to Amelia, he said more kindly, "I will take good care of him. Do not worry."

She nodded, incapable of speech or movement.

Simon looked at her. His regard was sharp, lingering.

And then he and Lucas were striding purposefully to their horses, untying the reins, and leaping astride. Amelia covered her mouth with her hand, her heart lurching in pain, as Simon lifted his hand in farewell, glancing at her one final time. Then he whirled his mount, as did Lucas, and the two trotted down the street. They vanished around a corner.

Amelia just stood there, staring after them, crying for a long time.

THE DOORMAN, GEORGE, held the front door open for her. Amelia couldn't smile at him. She had wept openly and unabashedly the entire carriage ride home.

Simon was gone.

Julianne rushed into the hall, surprising her. "Oh, Amelia!"

Amelia nodded at the doorman and met her sister in the center of the hall. "It is done," she said raggedly. She took off her gloves, revealing the simple, unadorned gold wedding band.

Julianne stared, her gaze filled with worry, and then she hugged her. "And Simon?" she whispered.

"He and Lucas rode away.... They would not tell me where they are going." She heard her voice break.

Julianne slid her arm around her. "We will repair this, Amelia. I have already spoken to Dom. He will lobby Windham immediately for a rescission of the charges. He is furious, by the way!"

"I never told you the entire truth, Julianne." She took her sister's arm and pulled her into the nearby salon. "Simon was spying for the French as well as for us. He may very well be guilty of the charges."

Julianne gasped, turning pale.

"I am so afraid I will never see him again!" She inhaled, pain stabbing through her breast. "But Simon is right. This is war. We cannot control fate. Fate controls us." She struggled for composure. "I must be strong. Simon is gone. I pray that, one day, he will be able to return, but in the meanwhile, there are three small children in this house, and they need me."

Julianne seized her hand. "What are you going to tell them? And what will you tell the staff?"

Amelia had spent the past half hour indulging herself in her own grief, in her tears, and she hadn't had a chance to think about what she must do. It was tempting to tell the boys that their father had gone to visit his northern estates, at least for now. And she could tell the staff the very same thing.

But there was a warrant out for Simon's arrest. Could such news be kept secret indefinitely?

She thought about the boys again. William was only eight, but he was mature beyond his years. On the other hand, he had just lost his mother. "My instincts tell me that William must know the truth, sooner or later."

"What if we can bring Simon home soon? In a matter of weeks or months?" Julianne asked.

"What if he is gone for years?" Amelia responded. Her heart throbbed with pain at the thought.

Julianne squeezed her hand.

An insistent knocking sounded on the front door.

She tensed in alarm. "I have to think about this," she told her sister as footsteps sounded in the front hall. It sounded as if a number of men had marched into the house.

Amelia shared a glance with her sister; Julianne was as alarmed. Then she ran to the threshold of the salon, her sister behind her. Amelia faltered.

A uniformed officer of the guard stood in the front hall, with two other soldiers and Lloyd.

"Miss Greystone," the butler said, coming forward, his eyes wide. "The captain is looking for his lordship. Do you know where he is?"

Somehow she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, smiling as she walked to the waiting officer. His blue gaze was sharp, meeting hers.

Amelia extended her hand. "I am Miss Greystone, the housekeeper." She would not reveal that she and Simon had just been married-it might raise too many questions and lead to the truth that he had fled town. "I'm afraid that Lord Grenville is out, but we are expecting him back for supper."

The officer bowed. "I am Captain Johnson, Miss Greystone. May I have a word privately?"

Amelia nodded. "This is my sister, the Countess of Bedford. Do you mind if she joins us?"

The young, blond captain started. Of course, such a family connection was highly unusual for a housekeeper. "Of course not," he said.

Amelia led the captain and Julianne back into the salon. She closed both doors behind them and managed another smile as she faced the captain. "How can I be of help, sir?" she asked calmly.

He produced a rolled doc.u.ment, tied with a dark velvet ribbon. "I'm afraid, Miss Greystone, that I have a warrant for Lord Grenville's arrest."

Amelia simply stared. Inwardly, she curdled. "May I see the doc.u.ment, sir?"

"Of course." He untied the ribbon, unrolled the page and handed it to her.

Amelia looked at it. It was hard to read the writing on the page, as her vision was blurring. She felt her sister come to stand beside her, and Julianne said, "It is an arrest warrant. Simon is being charged with treason."

Amelia inhaled. "This is absurd, sir."

"I am very sorry to bring you such tidings," Captain Johnson said. "I am merely following my orders, Miss Greystone. And my orders are to arrest his lordship tonight."

"I see," she managed, rather foolishly.

"Where would it be convenient for me and my men to await Lord Grenville's return?"

"You may wait here," Amelia said.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK, Signor Barelli?" Amelia asked impatiently.

It was midmorning, a week later. She stood in the cla.s.sroom with her hands on her hips, as the tutor finished reading her notes. She had spent almost an entire week revising the boys' curriculum. William loved languages and excelled at them. He should be spending more time on that subject, and less on mathematics, which he abhorred and struggled with. John was fascinated with all manner of science, from the nature of insects to the motion of a ball and the position of the stars. Why not immerse him in an introductory course on biology? Or astrology?

"I think that this is a highly, er, unusual schedule, Miss Greystone," the Italian schoolmaster said. "Master William barely received a pa.s.sing grade on his last arithmetic examination. He should spend more time on mathematics, and less on French, Italian, German and Latin. He already excels in the languages. And why add Russian to his curriculum?"

"He has asked me if he could begin to study Russian, and current political discourse suggests that the Russians will become more important to Britain and the world, not less. Why not allow William to study the language?" She spoke firmly, but she smiled. "I have little doubt that, if his lordship were in residence, he would allow me to revise their studies as I have chosen."

Signor Barelli pushed her notes aside and stood, his gaze filled with sympathy. "Dare I ask, Miss Greystone, has there been any word?"

Her heart flooded with the grief that never completely dissipated. She had not been able to hide the fact that a warrant had been issued for Simon's arrest. When the authorities had come to the house intending to arrest Simon and he had not been home, Captain Johnson had decided to wait for his appearance. That hadn't raised eyebrows. But when Simon had failed to return, the captain had insisted on searching the entire house thoroughly. The search had taken two and a half hours, and it had disrupted everyone.

William and John had wanted to know why soldiers were in the house. Amelia was a firm believer in the truth, but not in these circ.u.mstances. She told the boys that the soldiers were looking for their father-but that it was a terrible misunderstanding, one that she was already attempting to clear up.

She had managed to keep the entire truth from the boys. William had asked why the soldiers wanted to speak with his father, and she had told him that they believed he had important information about the war. She didn't want them to worry, and she had done her best to make light of the matter. Both boys had been convinced that this episode would quickly pa.s.s. But there was no deceiving the rest of the household.

Amelia had a.s.sembled the entire household the following morning at dawn, excluding the boys, who remained asleep. She had told everyone about the charges, and that they were a terrible mistake that would be sorted out eventually. The staff had been shocked to learn that Simon was being charged with treason-and that he was suspected of spying for the French republicans. She had looked each and every man and woman in the eye, and told them that she expected their faith and loyalty. "If anyone here does not believe in his lordship's innocence, I expect you to step forward now. You will be dismissed, but with a week's wages and good references."

No one had stepped forward.

When both Lloyd and Mrs. Murdock had approached her individually, professing their outrage over the charges, it was clear to her that they both believed in Simon's innocence. As the rest of the staff looked up to them both for direction, Amelia was relieved. Any malignant gossip below stairs would be quickly laid to rest.

And then there was Momma. In an entirely lucid moment, she wanted to know where Simon had gone and when he was returning to them. Amelia had almost collapsed in tears. And now she had to lie to her own mother. For she was afraid that, when her wits were addled, Momma might innocently disclose the truth. "He has gone to his northern estates, Momma," she had whispered, praying G.o.d would forgive her. "He will surely return to us soon."

Meanwhile, Dominic was directly pet.i.tioning the War Secretary to have the charges against Simon dropped. If Windham would not change his mind, he planned to speak directly with the Prince Regent, whom he knew rather well.

Warlock had also devised a pet.i.tion, which he had already sent to the War Office. It hadn't been answered yet. Amelia hadn't expected him to be helpful, but he was irate over the injustice being done to one of his men. However, he also said that Windham seemed to be taking the news of Simon's betrayal very personally. That did not bode well.

Now Amelia faced the tutor, pain stabbing through her breast. "There has been no word, Signor, and I am sure it is safe for his lordship to send word." Captain Johnson had called again. She knew he was hoping to catch Simon at the house, on the off chance that he would return to visit. Johnson had warned her that if she was aiding and abetting a fugitive, she could face charges, as well. Amelia had decided not to reply to such a comment, obviously meant to wear her down.

"Can I count on you to begin the changes to the curriculum that I have suggested?" she added, smiling at Signor Barelli.

"Of course." He bowed.

Amelia quickly left the cla.s.sroom, fingering her wedding band, which she wore on a chain around her neck. It would be wonderful to shout out to the world that she was now Lady Grenville, but she knew she could not. Simon had fled the law, and if she confessed to eloping with him beforehand, it would obviously make her an accessory to his escape.

Amelia strode down the hall, pa.s.sing open door after open door. She had decided to thoroughly clean the entire house, and windows were wide open, beds were stripped, rugs were rolled up, furniture was being dusted and cleaned, the floors waxed and polished.

The "summer" cleaning would be finished in a week or so. The house would never look better, once she was done. Next week, she intended to attack the kitchens and begin a ma.s.sive reorganization of the pantries, cleaning every nook and cranny to be found. After that, she was to discuss the state of the gardens with the head gardener. She wanted to plant a maze behind the house, reminiscent of the maze at St. Just Hall in Cornwall.

She faltered. A poignant memory a.s.sailed her, of hiding breathlessly in the maze as Simon hunted for her. When he had found her, they had nearly made love....

She shook herself free of the long-ago past. While Simon was gone, she would do her best to manage his home and his estates. Repairs would be made when necessary. There would be restorations and refurbishments. When he came home, he would see that she had kept his estate for him in the best possible condition....

But when would that be? He had been gone for eight days. It felt like eight years!

Amelia hurried directly to the library, where she had an appointment. As she had thought, she was late.

A rustically dressed gentleman stood there, hat in hand, and he bowed when he saw her.

He was a steward from one of Simon's largest northern estates, and she had written to him, asking him to come to London to meet Simon. She doubted he would have come to town if summoned by a mere housekeeper. "Good day, Mr. Harold," she said cheerfully, espying a large ledger on the desk. "I am Miss Greystone, and I am acting on his lordship's behalf. As you may have heard, he is out of town."

The steward was a middle-aged man in a gray wig and a brown-velvet jacket. He blinked at her. "I was summoned here by his lordship, Miss Greystone. I received a letter directly from him."

She smiled again. "Actually, I wrote that letter, as his lordship cannot currently oversee his estates, and the duty had fallen upon me-just as the duty of caring for his children and his home has fallen upon me."

He blinked again. "I had heard some gossip about his lordship, but I dismissed it. Surely it isn't true?"

"There has been a misunderstanding," she said firmly. She closed the library door. "A warrant has been issued for his arrest, and I imagine that is why his lordship left town so suddenly, without explanation." She faced Mr. Harold and smiled again. "I have no doubt that when the charges are dropped, he will return. In the meanwhile, I intend to make sure his estates are being run as effectively as they were before his departure."

The steward fidgeted. "Miss Greystone, I have always dealt directly with his lordship-or I have been left to my own devices."

She went to the desk and gestured at a chair facing it. Mr. Harold simply stared, so she ordered, "Sit down, Mr. Harold. Or should I summon my brother-in-law, the Count of Bedford? Surely he will convince you to be cooperative. We must all do our duties, with his lordship absent."

Mr. Harold immediately sat down.

Amelia smiled and took Simon's seat behind the desk. She opened the ledger. "We are going to go over all the accounts. And we will start with your weekly expenses."