Attiring herself in a rose muslin gown that suited the pleasantly warm spring day, she began a thorough search of the house.

It took quite some time to track her quarry to the small conservatory.

Entering the glass and iron room with a few tenacious plants, Rachel crossed toward the bench set close beside a fountain.

It took only a cursory glance to realize that the young maiden had been crying. Rachel felt a prick of sympathy at the reddened eyes and tremble of her soft lips. As she approached, Violet hurriedly tucked her handkerchief out of sight and picked up a discarded piece of linen she had been stitching upon.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Rachel settled on the bench next to her friend.

"Violet, I hoped I would find you."

Violet studiously kept her gaze on the lopsided flower she had printed on the linen. "Good morning, Rachel."

"That is lovely," she murmured, deliberately maneuvering the conversation in the direction she desired.

"Thank you."

"A wedding present for your fiance?"

She felt Violet shiver at her side. "No. Mr. Wingrove feels that needlework is a frivolous activity. He expects his wife to devote her energies to pleasing her husband and reading books that elevate the mind."

Rachel did not have to pretend her dislike. "Good heavens, what a dreary prig."

"Rachel." Violet glanced up in surprise.

"Well, he is. Forgive me if I offend you, Violet, but I can not imagine that he will make you happy."

Her eyes darkened, but she managed to hold back the ready tears. "Marriage very rarely has anything to do with happiness."

Rachel considered her numerous acquaintances who had wed for position and wealth rather than love. Most of them had already indulged in affairs or were living lives quite separate from their husbands.

"True enough. It is more often a means of retrieving a lost fortune, is it not?"

A sudden surge of painful color stained Violet's countenance. "How did you know?"

Rachel smiled gently. "It is obvious your father has fallen upon hard times. It is equally obvious that you possess nothing but fear and revulsion for your intended."

"It is true," Violet whispered in stricken tones. "Father was always a gamester and after Mother died he only became worse. I begged him to halt, but he always laughed and said that his luck was due to change."

Rachel bit back her harsh words of condemnation. She possessed little sympathy with such self-indulgence. Mr. Carlfield should have concentrated on improving his estate and seeing that his daughter had ensuring a proper dowry, instead of fribbling away his fortune on cards and horses.

"I believe that is the common cry of most gamesters."

"Yes, but his luck did not change and after the Season he was heavily in debt. He realized that he was very close to losing the estate."

"And like any weak man he sought to sacrifice another for his failures rather than accept his responsibilities," she said angrily. "So he hit upon the notion of bartering you to Mr. Wingrove."

"Yes."

Reaching out, Rachel grasped the needlework and tossed it aside, then clasping the ice-cold fingers she regarded her friend with a somber expression.

"You must not do this, Violet. You will be miserable with that ghastly man."

"There is nothing I can do."

"Nonsense. My own mother had been promised to a gentleman she did not love for his title. She was wise enough to elope with my father."

The maiden frowned in a perplexed fashion. "But I have no one who wishes to elope with me."

Rachel schooled her flare of impatience. She must not attempt to consider what she would do in a similar situation. There was no doubt she would have informed her father to his face that she would not be a pawn in his game. Not to mention terrifying any gentleman ridiculous enough to even consider requesting her hand in exchange for money.

Violet possessed a more delicate, more easily swayed spirit. She would always do what was expected of her. It would never occur to her to challenge her father's commands. Not even if it meant tying herself to the wretched Mr. Wingrove.

"What I mean is that she did not allow herself to be bullied into an unwanted marriage," she said gently. "Tell your father that you refuse to be sacrificed to pay his debts."

Violet gasped in shock at the blunt words. "Oh no. I could not possibly. He would be so angry."

"What is a few angry words when compared to a lifetime with Mr. Wingrove?"

Surprisingly, the pale features hardened at the fierce question. "It would not be just angry words. My father has already threatened to have me turned out if I do not agree to the marriage."

It was Rachel's turn to be shocked. Mr. Carlfield had threatened to toss his own child onto the streets if she did not wed a hideous gentleman old enough to be her own father? It was barbaric. She would dearly love to give the man a proper piece of her mind.

"That is inexcusable," she gritted.

Violet shrugged. "He is terrified of losing everything."

"Then he should have thought of that before tossing away his fortune at the card table."

Clearly of a more sympathetic nature than Rachel, Violet gave a heavy sigh. "It is too late for regrets."

Rachel nibbled her lower lip as she furiously considered what could be done. Certainly she would not stand aside and allow this girl to be bullied into marriage.

And yet, she knew it would be a waste of breath to try and speak with Mr. Carlfield. He clearly possessed nothing but disregard for his only child to have proposed the match in the first place. And nothing could induce her to plea to the mercy of Mr. Wingrove. She did not doubt he would readily punish Violet for Rachel's presumption.

Obviously the only course of action was to snatch Violet from their greedy clutches.

"No, it is not too late," she said in firm tones. "My sister, Sarah, has a town house in London that she has given me. You may live there with me."

The brown eyes abruptly widened. "Truly?"

Rachel chuckled. "Of course. We shall have a grand time."

Just for a moment a glimmer of hope swept over the pale features. Like a condemned prisoner glimpsing a hole in the wall. Then with a pained grimace she gave a slow shake of her head.

"It sounds lovely, but Father would only follow me."

Rachel was not at all frightened by this threat. The law might be on the side of Mr. Carlfield, but she had the cunning of the Devilish Dandy to depend upon. And recalling her father's unusual interest in Violet, she did not doubt for a moment that he would lend his full support.

"You need have no fear of him bothering us in London," she promised confidently. "Uncle Foxworth lives with me. I can assure you that he is more than capable of dealing with your father."

At the mention of Mr. Foxworth the maiden abruptly dropped her gaze. Rachel was intrigued to notice a faint tremble race through her body. It appeared her father was not alone in his fascination.

"Yes, he is a very strong gentleman."

"As well as being thoroughly cunning and clever enough to outwit any gentleman in England," she said dryly.

A silence descended as Violet battled between her well-trained duty to her father and the deep desire to escape the forbidding control of Mr. Wingrove.

"I do not know," she at last whispered. "If I do not wed, what will happen to Father?"

Rachel gave an impatient click of her tongue. "Your father was quite capable of plunging himself into disaster. It is his duty to seek a means of extricating himself."

"It is not so simple."

Rachel once again battled her impatience. She had at least offered the opportunity for escape. It was now up to Violet to decide if she was willing to take the next step.

"Very well." Rachel rose to her feet. "At least think about my offer. I would be quite happy to have you with me."

"I shall." She waited until Rachel had nearly reached the door before she called out softly, "Rachel."

Turning about, Rachel regarded her with raised brows. "Yes?"

"Thank you. I have never known anyone who has been so kind to me."

"Nonsense," Rachel muttered in sudden embarrassment, hurrying from the room before Violet could continue her words of gratitude.

With a shake of her head she moved through the hall toward the front of the house. She deeply pitied Violet. There was no doubt she was browbeaten by her father and terrified of her fiance. Still, a part of her longed to chide some sense into her.

How could she possibly consider it her duty to rescue her father from financial ruin? If he had not been such a witless buffoon they would not be facing disaster.

Thank goodness her own father had raised her with a strong sense of independence. She would never be the pawn of any man.

She entered the foyer at the same moment a lean, masculine form descended the stairs. Her heart gave a lurch as she met the familiar dark gaze. She had devoted a great deal of thought the previous evening to the blazing kiss they had shared. In truth she had stared at the ceiling long into the night as she had recalled the flood of sensations that had flooded her body.

Until she had encountered Mr. Clarke she had always thought kissing a vastly overrated pastime. Hot lips and groping hands were little more than an annoyance.

Now she realized that such caresses could offer a sweet, darkly dangerous temptation. A temptation far greater than she could ever have dreamed.

"Good morning, Mr. Clarke."

He smiled as he came to a halt before her. "I believe that we have progressed to Anthony, have we not, my dear?"

She hesitated before giving a nod of her head. Common sense might warn her that furthering her intimate contact with this gentleman was a risky gamble, but she had never been one to take the safe path.

"Very well."

Obviously pleased that she had not shied away from his challenge, Anthony stepped closer.

"I had hoped you would be down early this morning."

"Oh? Is there something you desire?"

"Yes. I thought I might visit the local village and hoped you would be willing to accompany me."

Rachel gave a pleased smile. She had already been determined to discover a means of visiting the village. Anthony had saved her from enduring her father's grumbles had he been forced to perform the role of her companion.

"I should like that very much."

"Good. I will join you in the courtyard in a quarter of an hour."

"Very well." She moved to the stairs and made her way calmly to her chamber. Once there, however, she began struggling with the fastenings of her gown, and calling for her maid. "Nellie, I shall need my new carriage gown."

With suitable speed the middle-aged maid was at her side, removing the muslin gown and replacing it with a gown of French gray kerseymere trimmed with white gauze and white satin ribbons. She completed the elegant image with a bonnet of gray velvet with a fall of white lace and black leather half boots. She was uncertain why it was so vital to appear her best for a rustic drive to the village, but she was determined not to leave her chambers until thoroughly satisfied with her appearance.

Pulling a few golden curls from beneath the bonnet to lay against her cheeks, she at last turned back toward her maid.

"A real treat yer look, Miss Cresswell," the woman readily complimented.

"Thank you, Nellie. I hope Mr. Clarke will approve."

The elder woman sniffed. "Have ter be daft not to."

"No, he is not daft." A small smile curved her lips. "But he is very, very elusive."

"Aye, them cagey ones be the most dangerous," the maid said in tones that spoke of years of wisdom.

A faint tingle edged down Rachel's spine. "Yes. They are also the most exciting."

"That be true enough."

"I shall simply have to be more clever than he is." Retrieving her reticule, Rachel turned and left the room, hurrying down the stairs and into the courtyard. She found Anthony waiting for her beside a dashing curricle pulled by a pair of beautifully matched chestnuts. "I hope I have not kept you waiting?"

"Not at all." He allowed his gaze to take an appreciative survey of her trim form. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." She allowed him to lift her into the curricle, then rounding the horses he vaulted into the leather seat and took the reins from the groom. With a flick of his wrists they were on their way. Making herself comfortable in the seat, Rachel prepared to enjoy the lovely day. "What a splendid pair."

"They are a recent p-purchase. I am happy to say they have proven to be quite sound."

She wryly studied his elegant profile. "I can not imagine you are easily fleeced."

"No." He turned to regard her with a shimmering gaze. "I rarely allow surface beauty to sway my opinion. I base my decision upon inner worth."

She arched a brow. "Very noble."

"Indeed." With a chuckle he returned his attention to the narrow lane.

Determined not to be disconcerted, Rachel calmly folded her hands in her lap.