Absurdly, Chance hadn't. Why should he? Miss Cresswell had appeared perfectly satisfied to see the last of him.

Then he was suddenly struck with a new, wholly unwelcome thought. "She is well, is she not?" he demanded in sharp tones.

"Non, ma fille is distressingly unwell."

Chance clenched his fists at the ludicrous French accent. "Do not toy with me," he warned, his heart wrenching at the mere thought Sarah might be ill or even injured. "What has occurred?"

"You," Monsieur Valmere said simply.

Chance's brows snapped together. "What?"

"She is in love with you."

Chance sucked in a harsh breath. "Ridiculous."

"That is precisely what I attempted to tell her, but to no avail. She is convinced you are deserving of her heart."

His lips thinned. "I suppose that is why she insisted she never wished to see me again."

Monsieur offered a shrug. "What did you expect? She believes there is no future in such a relationship."

Sarah loved him?

Was it possible?

Against his will, the memory of her innocent response to his kisses flashed through his mind. He had known she was physically attracted to him and that her beautiful eyes seemed to glow a bit brighter when he entered the room.

But love?

A poignant longing rushed through his blood before he was sternly taking command of his foolish weakness.

Knowing Sarah returned his feelings did not solve their troubles. Indeed, it only made it worse. He could hardly bear the thought she was suffering the same tortures as himself.

"There is no future," he forced himself to say in harsh tones.

Monsieur Valmere calmly removed a snuff box to measure a small pinch. "You do not love her?"

Chance paused before heaving a resigned sigh. "Of course I do."

"And yet you intend to put her out of your life?" He dusted his fingers before returning the gold box to his pocket. "You can so easily turn your back on her?"

Wincing at the callous accusation, Chance took a step forward. "There is nothing easy about it, but I have a duty to my family. I must think of their honor."

"How very noble," the older man mocked, clearly unimpressed with Chance's painful sacrifice. "Pray tell me how a young maiden who devotes her life to others and loves with such generosity could ever bring dishonor to a family."

Chance regarded his guest in a deliberate manner. "She is the daughter of a wanted criminal."

He gave a brief nod of his head at the direct hit before running a finger over the satin eye patch. "What if I promise the Devilish Dandy shall never return and never trouble you?"

"Can you make such a promise?"

Realizing he was as much as admitting he was indeed the wanted criminal, the gentleman gave a slow nod of his head. "Yes."

Chance could not help but admire the man's pluck. One shout from him would no doubt bring a swift end to the Devilish Dandy. And yet he had risked his very neck to bring happiness to his child.

Of course, Chance had no intention of handing the thief over to the proper authorities, not even when Pate entered the room with the decanter of brandy. He would never willingly hurt Sarah in such a fashion.

Waiting for the butler to retire from the room, he poured them both a glass before pacing toward the crackling fire. "All this does not alter the fact that any connection with Miss Cresswell is bound to bring scandal to my family."

"Fah. What is a bit of gossip when compared to a lifetime without the woman you love?"

Chance ground his teeth together. Damn, but the man seemed to know where to strike. "And what of my mother and brother? They will endure the same scandal as I."

"You know, I do not believe you think of your mother or brother at all," the older man slowly accused. "I believe you are merely frightened."

Frowning, Chance turned to confront his unwelcome guest. He did not readily endure being called a coward. Not by anyone. "I beg your pardon?"

Indifferent to the danger carved into Chance's elegant features, the Devilish Dandy met his gaze squarely.

"It is simple to follow the path that is expected of you. It takes far more courage to follow the convictions of your heart." He lifted his hand as Chance opened his mouth to argue. "Sarah possess such courage each day she goes to that school or those brothels where no lady should be seen. It was the same courage her mother possessed when she left her family and faced ruin to wed Solomon Cresswell. She was cut off by everyone but Lord Scott."

Chance pounced upon the familiar name. "Lord Scott?"

"Sarah's uncle. Although few are privy to the relationship," the gentleman shocked Chance by admitting. "It was a sacrifice she made for love."

Chance gave a slow shake of his head, at last realizing why Sarah and Lord Scott appeared to be so close.

Good gads, Sarah was related to one of the most influential families in England, but her place in Society had been taken away by the gentleman standing before him. If only . . . no, he drew his thoughts up sharply. There was no if only. The Devilish Dandy had made certain of that.

"It was a sacrifice she also made for her children," he pointed out in sharp tones.

"Yes. And she would be the last person to regret producing three beautiful daughters who are as kind and sweet natured as they are lovely. Hardly a legacy to be ashamed of."

Chance could not deny the truth in his words. Sarah was lovely and kind natured and blessed with the goodness to change the world.

No mother could regret such a daughter.

"You make it all sound so simple."

The older man gave a slow shake of his head. "No. I have told you it takes the courage of your convictions. It would be simple to remain the Flawless Earl and dutifully take a proper maiden to fill your nurseries. The difficult path is risking all for love."

Chance's heart shuddered to a halt.

To risk all for love . . .

Heavens above, did he dare follow his heart?

Did he possess such courage?

His answer came as a pale countenance with a pair of brilliant blue eyes rose to his mind.

Whatever trials they might face, surely they could overcome them together.

Wasn't that what love was for?

"I'm off to the country for a few weeks." The Devilish Dandy intruded upon his whirling thoughts. "I am certain Sarah could use a friend."

With this parting shot, the Devilish Dandy turned to leave the room.

Alone, Chance allowed the first smile in days to curve his lips.

Across town, Sarah was doing her best to conjure up a holiday spirit. It hardly seemed fair to allow her poor disposition to dampen the entire household. Besides which, she could not remain locked in her room for an eternity, she had chastised herself. It would be far better to plunge back into her normal routine and put the past few weeks behind her.

All very sensible notions, she told herself as she placed the last of the holly onto the mantel. Unfortunately, her heart would just not cooperate.

Blinking back the ever ready tears, she turned to regard Lucky with a brisk smile.

"What do you think, Lucky?"

The young lad closely surveyed the room swathed in Christmas greenery. "There ain't no mistletoe," he at last concluded.

Sarah thinned her lips, refusing to contemplate where mistletoe had led her on the last occasion.

Blasted stuff.

"We have no need for such foolishness."

Lucky cast her a sly glance. "What if his lordship comes a-calling?"

Sarah stiffened in spite of herself. "If you are referring to Lord Chance, you needn't raise your hopes, Lucky," she said sternly. "The diamonds have been found, and Lord Chance has no further use for our services."

"I should not be so hasty, Miss Cresswell," a dark voice drawled from the doorway.

Sarah's heart halted as she spun about to discover the all too familiar form of Lord Chance in the center of the room. "My lord."

Unfettered by Sarah's own conflicting emotions at the sight of the gentleman who had become such a vital part of their lives, Lucky let loose a loud whoop. "Cor, I knew you'd be back."

Lord Chance reached out to ruffle the boy's hair with genuine fondness. "I believe if you go to my carriage you will find a trifling gift for you."

"A rare 'un you be, guv." Lucky grinned before darting from the room.

Alone with the man who had haunted her thoughts for the past two days, Sarah struggled to breathe. Dear heavens, she had worked so hard to convince herself it was all for the best that she never clap eyes upon him again. Now he had managed to destroy the illusion by merely stepping into the room. "What are you doing here?" she demanded in shaking tones.

He slowly held up a small package. "I have brought you a Christmas gift."

Sarah instantly rebelled at the soft words. "I thought I had made it clear that I desire nothing."

His handsome features twisted. "Painfully clear. However, I am as wretchedly stubborn as you and I will not be swayed." Stepping forward, he thrust the gift into her hands. "At least open it."

Unnerved by the heat and male scent that wrapped about her, Sarah found her fingers fumbling with the heavy paper. It was not that she wished for a gift, she told herself sternly, it was simply that she would do whatever necessary to bring this encounter to a swift end.

Expecting a lavish jewel or even a crude bank note, she was caught off guard by the leather-bound collection of Shakespeare's sonnets. It was a gift a gentleman might give an aunt or even his mother, but she discovered her wariness melting to pleasure. "Oh."

His dark gaze never left her wide eyes. "You mentioned you preferred Shakespeare to any other poet."

She gave a startled blink. "And you remembered?"

"I remember . . . everything," he breathed softly. "Every word, every glance, every kiss."

She was being drawn into the dark magic of his eyes, and she desperately grasped for a measure of sanity. "You should not be here."

"No," he agreed with a rueful smile. "My mother will have my head upon a platter for not being at her gathering."

Sarah gasped. "The Christmas party."

"Yes."

"Why are you not there?"

He raised a hand to cup her face. "Because I will not go without you."

A deep shudder shook her body. "What did you say?"

"I love you, Sarah Cresswell."

An icy shock raced through her body, making it nearly impossible to think clearly. He loved her? But it wasn't possible, was it? He was going to marry some impeccable debutante who would bring nothing but honor to the role of countess, not the daughter of a jewel thief who devoted her life to the poor and outcast. "You do not know what you are saying."

"I know precisely what I am saying," he insisted as he placed his other arm about her waist. "I love you. I love how you smile, how your eyes sparkle when you are amused, how you fill the world with happiness, and how you tremble in my arms."

Tears filled her eyes at his gentle words. "But . . . it is impossible."

"The only thing impossible is living my life without you."

She gazed into the dark eyes that seemed to consume her. "What do you want from me?"

His hand moved to stroke the soft fullness of her lips. "I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Sarah."

Her heart cried out to say yes.

It was, after all, what she desired more than anything in the world. But the streak of stubborn logic that was so much a part of her warned it was not nearly so simple.

"Your family will never accept me," she said in husky tones.

His expression never altered. "That is their choice, of course, but I do not doubt they will soon come to love you as much as I do." A wicked glint suddenly burned in his eyes. "Especially when you have graced the Chance nurseries with a variety of heirs."

An embarrassed heat stained her cheeks. "I can bring nothing but scandal."