"Mr. Scott and Mr. Pepper." Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l inclined her head as the two young men acknowledged her presence. She gave them a warm smile, then glanced innocently toward the young women. "Have you met everyone here? I know at dinner, conversation is sometimes difficult."

"I believe we have," Charles answered immediately. "They are all charming, especially your daughters. Mary and Nellie, I believe?"

"Why, yes," Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l said, simpering and turning her attention to Christopher. "Did I mention that Mary is accomplished on the piano? And that Nellie can sing very sweetly?"

"Yes, you did. Several times at dinner," Christopher said bluntly, ignoring Charles's soft cough. "I am sure your daughters are very talented," he amended, catching the sharp look Charles gave him.

"They are that," Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l said, beaming. "I suppose you'd like to dance with one of them later. Might I ask which one you favor?"

Seeing the look on Christopher's face, Charles interrupted gallantly. "How can he possibly choose, Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l? They are both lovely and skillful."

Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l grinned at him, then gave Christopher a less-than-kind glance. "I do hope you both plan to come to our reception next week. I know the girls are counting on it."

"I will attend with the same eagerness that brought me here tonight," Christopher responded. He saw Charles cough again, hiding his laughter, then his companion agreed.

"We both look forward to it."

"Humph." Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l nodded, then stalked away, aware that some devilry was going on, but not quite sure what. As soon as she was out of hearing distance, Charles laughed openly.

"You've got to stop that, Chris. You can't antagonize the mothers and expect to do well with the daughters."

Christopher frowned. "I know, but have you met them? Her daughters are enough to drive a man to drink. Such silly, vapid females...isn't there one woman here with some character, one who isn't afraid to have a real thought? My G.o.d, they are like cookie-cutter imitations of women."

Charles shrugged, glancing toward the crowd. There was some justification for Christopher's remarks. Born to a life of leisure, the debutantes were not the most interesting women he'd ever met either, but for himself, beauty and a nice disposition were enough. It was Christopher who wanted more, and Charles could understand his difficulty.

"May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen?" Mrs. Drexel clapped her hands and the murmurs of conversation died. "We've persuaded Miss Chester, one of our lovely guests, to entertain us tonight on the piano while Miss Mitch.e.l.l sings."

Everyone clapped while Christopher rolled his eyes as if in pain. Charles nudged him as one young lady took a seat at the piano and the other stood before it. The music began softly. Margaret Chester was a decent enough pianist and she managed to get through the first few bars without error. Christopher was just beginning to relax when Nellie Mitch.e.l.l opened her mouth and began to sing, her voice like nails sc.r.a.ping on a chalkboard.

He wanted to cover his ears, but everyone else in the room listened with polite attention as the girl positively screeched. This was even worse than he'd antic.i.p.ated. As always, no one reacted negatively. It was considered the height of bad manners to criticize a young lady's talents. Even Charles was maintaining a polite visage, seemingly oblivious to the girl's tone. When she tried to hit a high note and her voice broke, Christopher winced, unable to hide his reaction. In desperation, he glanced around the room, searching for an exit.

All of the people were smiling politely; all of them clapped softly and encouraged the young girl to perform once more when the torture finally ended. Miss Mitch.e.l.l giggled, then launched into a second song that was equally atrocious. Christopher was about to retreat in disgust when a woman caught his attention. Seated in the center of the room, she clapped a handkerchief to her face, her body silently shaking.

She was laughing.

Intrigued, he watched her. Clad in a yellow silk dress with a bit of demure lace at the wrist and throat, she struggled to hide her chuckles while her eyes danced with hilarity.

Who was she? Christopher grinned at her, well aware of her source of amus.e.m.e.nt. She was next to a dowager, and he saw the elderly woman give her a disapproving look as she discreetly wiped a tear from her face. Raven-haired with a nose that was sprinkled with freckles, she stood out from her blond-haired companions like a rose in a field of daisies, but it was her eyes that captivated him. Br.i.m.m.i.n.g with mischief, they betrayed her, revealing the thoughts that the handkerchief would have hidden. Feeling his gaze on her, she glanced up, and their eyes met and held for one brief second.

He felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. The reaction was instantaneous and bewildering, as potent as the strongest whiskey. Perplexed, he saw the same confusion on her face, replaced a moment later by laughter as Miss Mitch.e.l.l lost another note. Scolded by the elderly woman again, she obediently turned back, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from her.

The music finally died and the a.s.sembly clapped politely. Christopher breathed a sigh of relief as Miss Mitch.e.l.l departed from the piano and the ladies fought among themselves as to who was next.

"Nellie, why don't you-"

"I couldn't possibly."

"Miss Chandler, aren't you singing?"

"Thank you, but my throat is dry. Why not Miss Pemberton?"

"Yes, Miss Pemberton!"

"No, I couldn't..."

"Nonsense!"

Christopher had been barely paying attention when he noticed that the woman he'd been admiring was being pressured to sing. She caught his grin as she politely tried to decline. When the women insisted, she didn't have a choice and took her place at the piano while the others clapped softly.

She looked uneasy, her black hair shining in the gaslight, her nose crinkled as she arranged her dress. Settling back against the wall with his drink, Christopher smiled. At last, entertainment. He didn't have the faintest idea as to whether or not Miss Pemberton could sing, but he couldn't wait to find out after her amus.e.m.e.nt at Miss Mitch.e.l.l's expense. She whispered something to Margaret, who gave her an odd look from the piano as she rustled through the sheet music. A few minutes later strains of soft, beautiful music filled the room, and Miss Pemberton's voice with it.

The song was "Greensleeves." Christopher recognized it instantly as the young woman sang, her voice hauntingly beautiful and full of emotion. It was an odd choice for a fashionable young lady, but no one seemed to care as the ancient song struck a chord in everyone's heart. Christopher detected the trace of a soft Irish accent in her words; that in itself was strange and he wondered again about Miss Pemberton. Spellbound, the audience listened with rapt attention as she deepened the song, her lilting brogue filling the air with visions of Ireland and its soft green fields, magical mists, and silver lakes. There wasn't a dry eye in the room when she finished, and the applause was thunderous.

"That was lovely, dear," Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l said, wiping at her eyes. "I haven't heard that song since I was a little girl. Tell me, though, how did you manage to imitate a brogue so well?"

Katie started to reply, but it was Ella Pemberton who answered.

"Isn't she clever? She has only to hear an accent once and she can imitate it. Fan was always so bright, you know."

The a.s.sembly crowded around her, begging for another song as Miss Pemberton demurred. Observing her from the end of the room, Christopher turned to Charles, his c.o.c.ky tone completely vanquished.

"Who is she?"

"Miss Pemberton?" Charles looked at him with some surprise. "You mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"About the scandal." Charles lowered his voice. "Everyone's talking about it."

"What scandal?" Christopher glanced at Miss Pemberton once again, more interested than ever.

Charles sighed, then launched into the story with obvious misgivings. "It seems that Frances Pemberton disappeared years ago. You may have heard your parents mention it-the incident was in all the papers. The official story was that she met with an accident while away on a trip. But it was common knowledge that Fan ran off with a man."

"I see." Christopher's eyes narrowed. For some reason, it bothered him to think of her loving a man, both physically and mentally. Ridiculous, he told himself. You haven't even met the chit. Still, he wished he had another brandy.

"Ella Pemberton took her back in recently. No one really knows where she's been or the ident.i.ty of the man. The Missus Chandler are reinstating her into society, giving the story that she has been ill. You know their position; they are one of the first families and the wealthiest. No one dares dispute them."

"How odd." Christopher's eyes couldn't leave the woman now. Laughing merrily at one of the men's outrageous compliments, she was obviously having a good time. He had the feeling she always did. "I wonder what induced them to do that?"

"Probably Mrs. Pemberton," Charles said. "They say she is devoted to the girl. The Pembertons have quite a bit of money themselves. If one didn't mind the scandal, the girl could be quite a catch." He smiled, watching Christopher's expression.

"Charles," Christopher said with a grin. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

He was incredibly handsome. Katie had to tear her eyes away from the man who watched her so covertly from the far side of the room.

He couldn't be interested in her. He was so...urbane, so cultured and sophisticated. He was dressed in a dark suit and a spotless white shirt that brought out the best of his polished black hair and whiskey colored eyes. But it was the amus.e.m.e.nt on his face, the joke that they'd shared, and the flash of longing she could have sworn she'd seen just before she'd turned away that mesmerized her.

Who was he? He was talking quietly with Charles Pepper, a man that all the other girls agreed was the catch of the season. In the past few weeks, she'd been having a wonderful time as Fan, escorted to dozens of parties and favored with attention from many of the upper cla.s.s society men. Still, she'd never seen him before. Curious, she watched him, aware of a certain carelessness in his stance and a devilish charm to his grin. A rogue, a rake and a scoundrel-she would have bet her life he was all of those, but there was something else about him that compelled her to look back again and again.

"He is handsome, isn't he?" Bertrice Merriweather commented, seeing Katie's interest "That's Christopher Scott, of the Philadelphia Scotts. He usually never comes to these affairs, but rumor has it that he's looking for a wife."

"What is he like?" Katie couldn't help but ask.

Bertrice shrugged, then giggled. "That's what we'd like to know. All of the girls are in love with him, but he hardly gives any of them a glance. Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l has asked him to supper for Nellie and Mary, but he hasn't really paid attention to either of them."

"Why? When he wants to get married?"

"That's just it. No one can figure it out. He's either very particular, or there's more to it. He spends most of his time in the city, and his family is old money. Soaps, they say." Bertrice sniffed indignantly. "I heard he's just fast."

Katie glanced back at Christopher. She saw the look of amused tolerance on his face as Mrs. Merriweather joined him, then turned to point out Bertrice. He seemed emphatically bored, and it occurred to her that he considered himself above all this. Glancing at Bertrice, he gave her a polite smile, then his eyes met Katie's again with a warm, sensual grin that sent shivers up her spine.

Shuddering, Katie turned away. The last thing she needed was involvement with a man who was fast. She'd already had her heart broken once.

She wasn't looking for it to happen again.

The scandal. That explained it, Christopher thought dryly as he made his way to the dance floor. That was why Miss Pemberton seemed so different, so intelligent and so...interesting. She'd had some of life's experiences and was unique among the innocent young girls who surrounded her.

No wonder she'd captured his attention so completely. She was a woman with a past, one that was notorious from what he'd heard. He noticed that she wasn't without dancing partners and immediately understood why. Other men knew what he knew. While they might not court her, they would certainly try to bed her, a Pemberton or not.

His mouth tightened. She would be grateful if he offered marriage. This really was an ideal solution to both their problems. He would have the dowry he needed and she would have his name, an impeccable one at that. No doubt she would fall into his arms at the very thought.

"It's him, he's coming this way! It's Christopher Scott!" Bertrice whispered in a frenzy of feminine excitement. "Do you think he'll ask me to dance? I saw my mother talking to him earlier."

"I'm sure of it." Katie grinned, then accepted a gla.s.s of punch from a servant. Sipping the sweet brew, she watched Christopher approach, aware that he was even more handsome up close.

"Ladies." He bowed, suppressing a grin as Bertrice simpered, her face scarlet.

"Mr. Scott! I'm sooo pleased that you c-could join us!" Katie winced as Bertrice stuttered, fanning herself energetically. "It's suddenly so warm in here, I feel faint. Will you excuse me? I need to sit down."

Christopher nodded, watching with amus.e.m.e.nt as Bertrice backed away, then deposited herself on a chair, fanning her cheeks breathlessly. He turned back to Katie. "I do hope, Miss Pemberton, that you aren't inclined to the vapors?"

"Not in the least," Katie answered briskly, then grinned. "I couldn't manage a faint if I tried."

"Good." He took the gla.s.s from her hand and boldly placed it aside. "Will you dance, then?"

He was already leading her onto the floor, his manner sure and confident. Amused at his audacity, Katie wasn't in the least surprised to discover that he was a magnificent dancer. Lean and well proportioned, he moved with an easy grace that put to shame many of the other men who'd asked her to dance in the past few weeks.

"That was a wonderful song you did earlier this evening," Christopher said, whirling her around the floor. "Odd choice, however. Most of the young ladies pick something repulsive like *I Dream of Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair.'"

"I'm not very fond of popular music," Katie answered truthfully, not adding that she seldom heard it. "I sing what I like."

"You have a very pretty voice. I could have sworn you had a touch of a brogue."

"I spent some time among the Irish," Katie said quickly, wanting to end this line of conversation as soon as possible. "Have you ever been abroad, Mr. Scott?"

"Christopher." He nodded. "Several times. You know, I was thinking tonight that I don't remember you too well. Did you come here often as a child?"

This was getting sticky. Katie nodded, trying to remember what little information she had about Fan. Ella did say she'd been here, so that much was safe. Still, there was something about the penetrating way that Christopher questioned her that made her uneasy. She had to divert him, and the sooner the better.

"Many times," she responded, trying to sound confident "I am so disappointed that you don't recall, but they say age does that Speaking of relics, just how old are you, Mr. Scott?"

Her ploy worked. Startled into laughter, he shrugged. "Almost thirty. I don't know if that counts as a relic, but it's old enough."

"Elderly," she agreed, but her eyes twinkled.

He grinned at her, holding her even closer. "So, Miss Pemberton, how long have you been back?"

He knew. With that one simple question, Katie was sure he'd heard of the scandal. It was the talk of the town, so she shouldn't have been surprised. Glancing up at him, she saw there was no censure in his face, no disapproval. Instead there was acceptance and, surprisingly, amused interest.

"For a few weeks now. It was very hard on my aunt with me gone. I really shouldn't have stayed away so long, but I was just too ill."

His face changed slightly with an expression that she didn't recognize. He seemed to tense, as if it mattered to him personally. But that was ridiculous, he didn't even know her. Whatever it was, the expression was gone in a moment and he shrugged, letting his hand gather hers as the music ended.

"Bertrice was right about one thing, it is very warm in here. Would you join me on the porch?"

Katie stiffened. As Fan, she'd had several invitations like this one, and they all meant one thing. Usually some soph.o.m.oric lad with peach-fuzzed cheeks, hearing the rumors about her, would entice her away and try to make love to her. She'd sent one man into the boxwood shrubs just the previous night at the Pews, another into the fountain behind the Swarthmores' cottage. If Christopher intended nothing more than a crude seduction, she would rather know it now.

"All right." She followed him outside, breathing deeply of the fresh sea air and the cool breezes. Cape May was beautiful at night, the sky studded with stars like crushed crystal on black velvet, reflected in the ocean below. The ornate cottages of the railroad executives lined the beach like gingerbread houses, each with an identical charming porch, cupola, and a witches' cap tower. It was enough to make one believe in fairy tales, but Katie knew better. For her, there was never a happily-ever-after. Apparently there wasn't one for Fan either.

Disappointed, she turned to Christopher expectantly, waiting for a fumbling attempt at a kiss or a grope. Strange, she had expected better of him, but then one never knew. Apparently lechers came clothed in fifty-dollar suits as well as dock workers' caps.

Christopher didn't touch her. Instead he leaned against the porch railing and stared pensively at the tossing ocean. "Miss Pemberton," he began, his tone confident and businesslike. "I believe in being up front and right to the point. I am, as you have observed, of marrying age. I come from a good family and have many of the right connections within the city. I've heard I'm not an unhandsome man and, when the mood strikes me, am even considered congenial."

Katie stared at him in stunned surprise, then he continued in the same voice.

"You, on the other hand, need a husband. I know all about the scandal...and you have my word that it doesn't concern me in the least. You seem pretty enough, and if tonight is any indication, you are certainly accomplished. But I am aware that marriage proposals aren't very likely to come your way. You need respectability-I can provide that. I need a wife." He took a deep breath, then shrugged, turning toward her with a c.o.c.ky grin. "In short, what I'd like to know is...will you marry me?"

FOUR.

Katie stared at him for a moment in stunned silence, then burst into laughter, her giggles loud and infectious. Christopher frowned, his lack of amus.e.m.e.nt clear as she continued to chuckle helplessly. She laughed until she cried and was forced to retrieve a lace handkerchief from her pocket and wipe her tears.

"What is so funny?" he demanded, growing more annoyed by the moment.

"I'm sorry," Katie said, though she continued to giggle. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that I've never had such a romantic proposal before. I suppose you just swept me off my feet and I don't know how to act."

A wry smile came to his face as he surveyed her, her last words whispered with the soft innocence of a southern belle. Even in the dim light he could see her eyes dancing with amus.e.m.e.nt, and the joke was definitely on him.

Yet he had to admit she had cause. In his eagerness to see the matter done and behind him, he hadn't approached her with any finesse. Most other women would have been flattered; it wasn't every day the most eligible bachelor in town offered to marry them. Yet Fan saw through to the ridiculousness of the situation and didn't seem at all impressed by the grand nature of his offering.

"I see," Christopher said, his smile deepening when she finally managed to stop laughing. "Then it wasn't my proposal you were rejecting, just the manner in which it was offered."