

# A Question of Love

Angeline Fortin

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Angeline Fortin

### Part 1

# Chapter 1

"Where both deliberate, the love is slight:

Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?"

Christopher Marlowe

Half Moon Street

London, England

April 1884

"Who?" Evelyn Preston's jaw sagged in an unbecoming fashion before she snapped it shut and nearly screeched through her clenched teeth. "You want me to marry whom?"

"Now dear," her mother responded while calmly spreading jam on her morning toast. "You know Lord Hindon. His father, the earl," a small smile played on her lips, "owns a shipping office here in London and in Liverpool. You met him last fall in New York as well, don't you recall? He and the earl visited us there when the earl was investing with your father."

"Yes, I've met him." Evelyn countered. "Indeed, I've met him several times. But I don't know him." Evelyn had known for most of her life that the choice of husband would never be her own. She had accepted the fact without argument. What she had not anticipated was that the time would come so quickly or that the choice made for her would be a man she barely knew.

For Mrs. Preston, to be certain, such an engagement would be a triumph when news reached New York. Her daughter would become a countess when the current earl had the courtesy to pass on. Other Society matrons, each one who secretly prayed for such a title for their own daughters, would be green with envy.

Her father, however, who had pampered and spoiled her through her entire life had promised her a man she could like and respect and she had believed in his assurances. All the faith and trust she had placed in him to see to her future happiness seemed to have been wasted. Blast it, Eve had assumed that her parents would at least ask her opinion of the intended groom.

"So just like that you pick a man out of the crowd for me?" Evelyn's hands knotted in her napkin as a sickening dread settled in her stomach. "Just like that it's done without even mentioning it to me? Without letting him ask me? Without asking me if I even like the fellow?"

"You seemed to like him very well at the last three balls we've attended," Mrs. Preston commented. "You liked him well enough to attend the opera with him. You even danced with him twice at the Fernel dinner last week."

"You practically accepted that second dance for me, if you recall."

"Kindly mind your tone, Evelyn," her mother chided.

Eve ignored the reprimand and surged on. "And if you were so certain that I fancied him, then why not ask me?" She turned to her father for support. "Da!"

"Evie, darlin' girl," Lelan Preston sat forward taking her hand. "I asked your mother whom you had favored over the past months, she told me and I checked them all out. Hindon is the one I choose based on several factors and it is done." He rose, kissing her cheek and patting her hand.

"Several factors?" Eve sputtered. "What factors?"

"Family and expectations. Also, as I promised, he is young..."

"He's nearly forty!"

"...he's presentable and of good character. He has had a hand in his father's shipping interests and therefore should be capable of looking after ours. He will do well for you and you for him. Be happy now." Preston patted his older daughter's cheek affectionately. "You'll have everything you and your mother have always wanted."

"What I have wanted? Whom I favored? I don't favor anyone! And I never wanted to come here in the first place! You know that!" she yelled pushing back from the table. "Da! You promised to find me someone I liked! I trusted you! Well, you can't make me do it!" Evelyn turned and raced from the room almost snarling when she heard her mother mildly comment to her father, "That's a fine Irish temper you've given your daughter, Lelan."

Evelyn nearly ran into her sister, Katherine, as she charged into the foyer. "I'd be careful going in there if I were you, Kitty, you might just find yourself married off before you can blink."

"Evie! What happened?"

Leaving her sister openmouthed, Evelyn grabbed the front door handle and wrenched it open. Bixby, the butler, stared at her aghast. "But, Miss, your hat..."

Evelyn grabbed one from the bench near the door. "I've got the damn hat, Bixby!"

There was a rage boiling up in Eve. A fine rage the likes of which London had seen in few women and certainly not in any of their own ladies of Quality. Evelyn Preston, however, was not an English lady of the ton. She was an American and her father Irish. The combination made for an unusually volatile temper and she was about to display it to the whole of London.

Slamming the door of her family's rented townhouse on Half Moon Street in the fashionable Mayfair district, Evelyn glared back at the butler who opened it again behind her and frowned on her with clear disapproval. He closed it again with deliberate softness as she stomped down the steps. Evelyn slapped the ridiculously large hat her mother had insisted she buy on top of her head. She stomped down Half Moon Street, heading nowhere as anger and frustration flooded her. Muttering curses under her breath against her hat, her parents and the whole of England, she continued to stalk along readjusting the tilting millinery every few steps with no regard to where she was heading.

Yes, Eve internally acknowledged with a grunt as she clumped along, she had come to London accepting that the basic ideal held by the matrons of New York's social register, though perhaps never admitted aloud, was that the greatest measure of ranking among the matrons of Knickerbocker Society is not Fortune or Family but whether they are able to engage their daughters to marry into the nobility of a foreign country. Gaining an English title, for example, for their American offspring enabled any New York Society lady to rise exponentially in the eyes of the other matrons.

And, yes, she accepted with an audible screech of frustration, that her mother, Mrs. Lelan Preston of 5th Avenue Manhattan, a cousin of the noble Astors, had followed the example of other ladies in the highest societies of New York, Philadelphia and Boston who had brought their daughters overseas to barter them and their wealth for a title and prestige. Most aspired for the rank of duchess for their daughters, of course, but regrettably, there were simply not enough dukes of marriageable circumstance in all of England to make every mother happy. An earl or marquis might do in a pinch.

Following suit, Mrs. Preston had ferried Evelyn and her sister Katherine, across the ocean to London to be presented to Queen Victoria and to serve for the Season as debutantes of the ton. The Preston girls were possessed of beauty and charm and a small link to the nobility - their father was the second son of an Irish viscount - helped somewhat to establish them in that fickle society. However, what had truly opened the doors to them in the end was that they were possessed of the title heiress.

Once it had been accurately ascertained that Evelyn and Katherine were the offspring of the Lelan Preston, of shipping and railroad fortune, doors throughout the city were flung open in welcome. The ton could not imagine letting such wealth stay in America. After all, old titles often needed an infusion of new wealth.

So much to Eve's chagrin, for the last three months, the two Preston girls had been paraded from dinner to ball to house party, courted by the most eligible bachelors – young, old, rake and recluse – Society had to offer. Proposals had been so plentiful that some whispered the sheer number to be simply indecent. Eve had heard that gossip easily since it had clearly been spoken loud enough for her to overhear.

The proposers quickly discovered, however, that the girls themselves were not the ones to propose to, but rather their mother and father. Their mother to ascertain if the proposer's title was worthy and their father to negotiate the price of said title.

And finally, yes damn it, she now cursed aloud as she rained profanities down on everything she could think of, Evelyn and her sister Katherine both conceded that they would have little to say regarding whom they would wed. Given the wealth from which they were sprung and the society from which they hailed, they understood the responsibility for choosing a proper mate had never in actuality been in their hands. Evelyn had always regarded their mother's ambition for title with amusement and tolerance. At the same time, she trusted that their father would find for them a husband who was reasonably young and attractive, of good character and intelligent enough not to mismanage the incredible fortunes which would one day be theirs. It was a promise that Lelan Preston had made to them at the start of their journey and Evelyn had trusted him enough to carry it out.

A wave of disbelief swept over her again as she recalled her father's role in this travesty. Yes, travesty! Her beloved Da who had done little but indulge her and spoil her since birth! This man, whom she trusted in all things. Tears of frustration burned her eyes. Eve angrily dashed a hand across them raising her face to the sky searching for understanding.

Why would he do this to her? Her heart cried out just as she walked straight into a wall - or what felt like a wall - the force of which sent her to the cobbles, painfully on her backside and palms before she had chance to take a breath. Her skirts flounced back to above her ankles, her hat deserted her once again.

Brushing off her hands, she turned to reach for the offensive thing as a large male hand scooped it up. Her eyes rose to meet an amused olive green gaze.

# Chapter 2

Just like that, for the first time in her life, her breath was taken away.

Strange, Eve had always thought that it was just an expression one's breath being taken away. "Oh my," she whispered, her hand fluttering to her breast where her heart was suddenly pounding fast and hard. "Oh, my Lord." Ripping her gaze from those compelling eyes was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life, but she did. She closed her eyes taking several deep calming breaths though it did little good against the rapid tattoo of her heart. She opened them again.

With her characteristic boldness, her eyes started at the feet that were planted in front of her and up the long, muscular calves and thighs that were molded in crisply creased gray trousers. Her gaze slid past his narrow waist, up his broad chest and finally rested on his face. Her eyes became a caress as they followed his eyes, his brow, the plains of his cheeks and unfashionably clean-shaven jaw before coming to rest on his lips. They were firm but full and currently tilted up at one corner in a half-grin revealing white teeth that contrasted against his swarthy complexion. That lopsided smile prompted her heartbeat to race even more.

Why, he was so beautiful! She'd not realized that a man could be so. And she'd never before imagined that a man's lips could appear so...so tempting! She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Eve knew she should be shocked by the thought and just as quickly realized that she was not.

Francis MacKintosh stared down at the young miss sprawled at his feet. She had come to his attention just minutes before when he was stepping out from his grandparent's townhouse on Half Moon Street. A shrill female voice and a slamming door sounded from down the street calling his interest. He had identified the source of the disturbance as this young woman waving her fist at a butler as he closed the door to a townhouse just four doors up toward the park. If the volume of her voice alone had not caught his attention, the sheer energy and ire that radiated from her body would have done so just as quickly.

As she had forged down the street in his direction, her preposterously large brimmed, ornate hat, which should have perched daintily on her coiffure, slipped from one side and then to the other, then to the front and then the rear as she caught it again and again crushing it upon her head with a vehemence that might have vanquished lesser millinery.

Fascinated, he had watched her as she approached – or actually stomped – up the street without even a maid in attendance. Unusual that. No debutante he knew of would have dared to walk a public street alone. Whether she was aware of that social faux pas or not, within moments he could hear her faint expletives drifting up the street toward him that would surely oust her from Society's good graces if they were to be heard by another. As she approached, they articulated into creative and fluent curses against parents, men and the whole of England. She was clearly in a pique that wasn't to be quashed merely by the strict rules of etiquette if she felt no need to contain such vocal disparagements against her neighbors.

A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth as he recalled her creative language. Clearly no London lass with that mouth! Her long, mannish strides had marched her straight toward him, without pause or hesitation, cursing at the ground and sky without awareness of her surroundings.

She had walked right into him before he'd even had the chance to realize two things. One, that for all his notice of her, she hadn't seen him. And two, because of that, she didn't intend to stop.

Bending to retrieve her hat, Francis stared down at the lady before him. His attention shifted from her aura of ire as a new awareness developed. By God, but she was extraordinarily lovely! The absence of her hat revealed dark blond hair that shone with honey gold highlights in the sun and a face kissed by the sun and angels. Her features were smooth, her skin creamy with just a spot of color high on her cheeks that gave away her temper. Full, pink lips held a quirk of innocence that belied the words recently poured from them. Her green morning gown – hardly appropriate wear for an outing - was the very height of fashion and molded to every curve of her willowy figure.

Lovely, he thought. A vision of beauty and temper. He was drawn to both in a way that was disarming and inappropriate for a Tuesday morning stroll in Mayfair.

Francis watched her arresting bright green eyes make a quick study of him and physically felt where they settled. His lips tingled suddenly surprising him. Lust blossomed and his heart raced as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. There he was in the middle of the street squatted on his haunches before the most entrancing girl he had ever seen holding a most ridiculously large hat. Lusting as he had never lusted in his life. Staring as if he had never before seen a female.

And being stared at as if she had never seen a man.

It was but a moment and yet an eternity before he could summon the wherewithal to put together a coherent sentence.

"May I assist you, lass?" His voice was deep and husky with a touch of an accent Eve couldn't immediately identify.

She blinked. "Well, I suppose so." Eve recovered herself and took the bare hand he held out, but the lightning that passed through their contact startled her so that she snatched back her hand as if burnt and fell back on to her rear once more. She stared up at him in wonder. Well, that had never happened before!

Puzzled, she took his hand again intrigued now by the unusual electric warmth of his touch and rose to her feet, shaking her skirts out until they fell back to her ankles. Rubbing her tingling fingers together as he released her, Eve felt a burst of annoyance that he should affect her so and yet look merely amused in turn. She held out her hand. "May I have my hat back?"

Francis nearly chuckled at her surly tone, unable to rein in the pure delight that chased through him as he watched her. Clearly her fall had not diminished her temper. "You mean this hat?" He turned it over in his hands. "It's an intriguing piece of millinery."

"Honestly, it's hideous, I know, but I'm supposed to wear the damned thing because I'm outside and heaven forbid we should go outside without a damn hat." Enthralled by her ire and a bit startled yet charmed by her candor and use of language, Francis watched her fling her arm back up the street.

"Well, by all means then, let us put the hat back on." Still smiling, he carefully set the hat up atop her loosely styled hair, settling it into place. "Have you no hat pin?"

"No, I lost it yesterday afternoon." She was still mulish in her response. "It's fine, may I pass now?"

"Pass?" the insanely good-natured man chuckled again.

"Yes, you know? Pass? As in go by." She made a walking motion with two fingers and pointed down the street.

Never had Francis been so captivated in his whole life and, considering his long-standing opinion of 'ladies' as the spawn of Satan, was quite intrigued by his attraction. "Lass, you're walking unchaperoned and unescorted. You could be accosted by any ruffian on the street. Please, allow me the pleasure?" He cocked his arm at her. "May I be of service?"

"And you may be a ruffian yourself," she pointed out with a shake of her head. "I don't need an escort. I just need my hat to stay on my head."

"Lass, what a charming creature you are. You are smart-mouthed and saucy, very intriguing."

Evelyn stared up at him, strangely pleased by his comment and bemused by the novelty of her response. Normally she didn't care a fig what anyone thought of her. It was a quality that tended to terrify new acquaintances or at least put them off her company, yet this man only waited with a genial half-smile and sparkling eyes. His dark hair lifted away from his brow in the breeze. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch it. He did not follow the current mode of heavily pomaded hair, a fact which Eve appreciated. And as attractive and well-dressed as he was, he didn't show any of the scorn that many in this high-tiered society had shown when faced with one of her frequent faux pas. In fact, he actually seemed to...like it? Fascinating, indeed, she thought, barely noticing as an elegant town carriage came to a halt next to them.

The accompanying footman jumped down as the door swung open and a deep male voice commanded firmly from inside, "Get in, Evelyn."

Evelyn glanced to the carriage and back to the gorgeous man before her. She didn't want to leave him here like this! She struggled a moment searching for something to say. "Sir..."

"Now, Evelyn!" the voice commanded again.

Francis nearly chuckled as she rolled her eyes and turned toward the carriage. "You don't have to yell, you know! I am standing right here," she grumbled as the footman helped her in.

"You're a fine one to talk, lass," came the deep voice again.

"You didn't have to chase me down either," Eve retorted sharply as she climbed into the vehicle with one last regretful look back. "I would have come back eventually."

"Well, I couldn't be sure of that either, could I now, lassie?" Francis could identify now a thick Irish brogue in the man's voice. Obviously her father, he thought. Or rather, he hoped.

As the carriage started forward, the girl stuck her head from the window and raised a hand in a reluctant farewell. Feeling a sudden sense of something akin to panic, Francis took a step toward it but stopped himself. What was he thinking to do? Call out 'Stand and deliver!'? He couldn't make such a fool of himself. But then, what did it matter? She was just another woman after all, much like any other.

He turned and resumed his walk toward the park, but unable to help himself, his thoughts lingered on the lovely lass he had just encountered; wondering if he would ever see her again.

# Chapter 3

"Ohh, Kitty!" Eve hugged her pillow tight and rolled back. "I can't believe I didn't even learn his name!" She closed her eyes and the image of the man's handsome face came to her mind, dark hair, deep – almost mossy – green eyes. Just calling him to mind launched a cacophony of feelings inside of her that she couldn't truly comprehend. Her heart beat frantically, her breathing grew shallow and butterflies filled her stomach. If she didn't know better, Eve might have thought she was coming down with the ague. "I was just so angry at Da and Mama that it never even occurred to me to ask. Also, I was simply so stunned," she nodded emphatically, "yes, stunned, by him." She banged her head into the pillow. "If I have not met him this entire time we've been in London, there is little chance I'll see him again."

They had been readying themselves for bed for nearly fifteen minutes already but Kitty was fairly certain that her sister's bemoanment over her meeting with a strange man was not going to be over any time soon. It was amusing, really. Eve wasn't normally one to become all aflutter over any man. Why, over the past three months since they had arrived in London for the Season, Eve had not yet become even slightly enamored of any man, be he lord or prince. It simply wasn't her way.

"Well, he was walking up our street, perhaps he knows someone here," Kitty reasoned as she perched on the side of the bed. "Lady Hyde is having her ball tomorrow evening; perhaps we could ask her then if she knows of him or whom he was visiting."

Eve bounced up on her knees and waved her pillow toward her sister, a shiver of excitement in her eyes. "Or, or... I know! we can call on every neighbor on the street tomorrow and ask about him!"

"Eve, really," Kitty admonished, though her eyes were dancing with amusement. "You cannot just ask everyone if they know him. It would not be proper."

"You're so strait-laced Kitty." It was true, Eve thought. Between the two of them, Kitty was definitely the sister who was better at walking the right side of the proprietal line. Kitty and Evelyn had grown up in a society of ritual, rules and customs, where proper Form and Taste were to be adhered to above all. Lelan Preston often teased Eve that they left upholding their social position to his wife and younger daughter. It was a world in which Kitty excelled under the tutelage of her mother, sure to follow Mrs. Preston as a premier hostess of their set. Kitty, just a year younger than Evelyn, was certainly the more ideal debutante of the pair. She was witty and charming yet soft-spoken. A perfect socialite.

Evelyn, on the other hand, did not take to Society's rules as well as her sister. Certainly, she could run the large Preston households very well, directing servants and planning menus. She spoke three languages fluently and could be very witty and entertaining over tea. And, to give her fair credit, one could say that Evelyn was equally aware of the conformity of Society. She simply chose, from time to time, not to conform.

New York's Knickerbocker set extended approval to Evelyn and her father with affection tempered by tolerance of their difficulties bending to the acceptable form of the times. Her Da was one for doing as he wanted, damn the consequences and had always encouraged his daughters to do the same. They may have lived in a society of rules and rituals, but Lelan Preston had never been very good at consistently doing what was polite and proper. After all that, both father and daughter could charm anyone they met down to the matrons of the oldest families on the social register.

Her father had travelled a long road since he had immigrated to New York from Ireland nearly forty years before. Despite his marriage to Margaret Winters, a distant cousin to the Astors, and the fortune he had accumulated, it had taken Preston some time to become truly accepted into the Old New York Society. Evelyn and Katherine, whom they all called Kitty, were born shortly after the end of the war in 1865. The family they created had softened the Winters and Astor families to him. Their position in Society became secure when they were listed among the '400'. The elite of Society as determined by Mrs. Caroline Astor, the '400' was actually named for the number of people who would fit in the ballroom of her 5th Avenue mansion. It consisted of 213 families of established social background whose lineage could be traced back at least three generations.

It was a place secured by his wife's heritage, but Preston did not stop his quest to become one of the richest men in America. By the time the girls had made their debut, he was worth over 100 million dollars.

What charm alone had not overcome, wealth had forgiven.

"He was a Scot, I think," Eve contemplated out loud as her mind wandered back to the mysterious man she had met. Kitty was letting down her hair at the dressing table now and Eve moved to join her. Taking the brush from their maid's hand, Eve dismissed her and proceeded to brush her sister's hair as they had done all their lives. "I recognize his accent now that I've had time to reflect on it. Maybe Abby or Moira would know who he is."

Abygail Merrill and Moira MacKenzie were the sisters' two dearest friends from The Folkestone Academy for Young Ladies – a veritable prison of a finishing school they had all attended together until almost two years ago when Eve had graduated and moved on to university. Eve and Kitty had been outcasts at the elite school from the beginning of their stay six years before, simply for being American while Abby and Moira had faced equal disdain for their Scottish heritage. And, except for Abby, they were all heiresses of obscene wealth which was enough to prompt animosity from the academy's other students without further cause.

Where Eve and Kitty were sisters true, Abby and Moira were sisters at heart having grown up near each other. Moira had actually begged her father to send her down to the academy when she had found out Abby was going. They had spent the better part of their time serving the punishments that the headmistress, Miss Stapleton, continued to heap on them each time they decided to have a little fun. For four years, the quartet had run wild together becoming inseparable, the best of friends, and getting into more trouble than any other students in the history of the school.

"Should I write them and ask, do you think?" Eve asked tying a ribbon at the bottom of the long plait she had just completed.

Taking the brush and pushing her sister into the chair for her turn, Kitty shook her head and giggled at Eve's obsession. "Dearest, even if you had an actual name, Abby and Moira do not know every man in Scotland."

"They might," Eve argued.

"They probably don't."

"Improbable but not impossible."

Kitty continued to brush and braid and finally gave her sister a pat. "There, you are done now."

Eve sighed heavily. "Not that it would matter. Da has all but engaged me to that stuffy old man, Lord Hindon."

"He's not that old." Kitty's soft voice tempered her comment.

Eve merely shrugged. "And you know mother would never let me choose some mere gentleman over a future earl."

"True."

"But, ohh, Kitty! When he looked at me..."

"What?" her sister urged as she turned down the covers on her side of the bed and climbed in. A dollop of envy descended upon Kitty as she listened to Eve and watched her sister's face light up as she spoke about her mystery man. She had never met a gentleman who had caused her such flights. Never met a man who made her feel anything like the sisters had dreamed of. She wanted to very badly. "Was it like a fairy tale? Was it like everything we always dreamed of?"

"My heart fairly stopped, I swear it!" Eve giggled, climbing into their bed and hugging her pillow close again. "It was like a fairy tale meeting. The stuff of dreams. I never imagined that such immediate feeling was actually possible." The idea of love at first sight chased through her mind, but Eve dismissed it as a girlish idea. "But I've never looked at a man before and just had the thought leap into my mind that I had to know his kiss."

"No!"

"Yes!" Eve nodded emphatically. She turned down the lantern next to the bed and smiled dreamily into the darkness. "And, somehow, some way, Kitty... I know I will find out!"

# Chapter 4

Half Moon Street

London, England

The next evening

"Kitty, it's just no use!" Evelyn's voice was fraught with exasperation. "There are just too many people here! I have not been able to engage Lady Hyde in conversation for more than a few seconds and if he is here, I could never see him for the crush!" Indeed, the assembly room of Lady Hyde's townhouse was packed to the rafters with London's finest Society. And Lady Hyde was probably pleased as punch in spite of the heat generated by so many bodies. Eve was so very uncomfortable under her long corset, though her agitation over her target's failure to appear certainly did little to ease her discomfort. She circled the ballroom a dozen times in search of the man who so captured her attention, tempting her mother's wrath while rudely ignoring any other gentleman who might beg a dance from her.

"Worry not, dear," Kitty tried to reassure her. "We shall keep looking. I am engaged for the next set with Sir Melton, but as soon as we're done we can take another turn about the room. If you had let anyone fill in your dance card, you would have had something to do other than worry over this," she chided.

"I wanted to be able to dance with him in case he asked." Eve sighed.

"And instead, you have stood to the side for most of the evening and there are only two sets remaining before supper," Kitty chastised.

"Leave me, Kat, and go enjoy your dance." Eve continued her perusal of the room. "I know Sir Melton is very handsome and dashing."

"True, but I don't feel that I have to know his kiss," her sister teased, bringing a blush to Eve's cheeks.

"Very amusing, dear sister, but one day..." Kitty turned as her sister froze and clenched her arm. "Kat, it's him!"

"Where?" she demanded, scanning the room in the direction Eve was staring.

"He's making his bow to Lady Hyde and walking toward the... oh, no!" Eve clenched her sister's arm again even as her heart raced. "Kitty, he's leaving! Oh, he can't leave!"

Kitty tried to pry her arm from the death grip Eve had on her. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going after him! That's what I'm doing!" She grabbed up her skirts and started toward the door before swinging nervously back to her beloved sister, petting down her heavy skirts. "Kat? How do I look?"

Eve was in one of her many Worth gowns that had been made up for the Season. This one a heavy pale yellow silk with a center panel of floral embroidery. Her shoulders were bared by the wide neckline. She wore no jewelry, only small flowers tucked into her curls. She knew that the color flattered her and had been offered a multitude of compliments this evening but none were from him. Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter beyond what he thought. "You are beautiful, of course!" With a laugh, Kitty waved Eve away. "Go, dear! Run! I will divert Mother!"

"Oh, thank you!" Eve dashed into the crowd and wound her way through the dense crush avoiding eyes and calls for her attention. As quickly as she could, she made for the door but as she stumbled to the bottom of the front steps to the townhouse, she knew that it had just taken too long to work her way out. "Oh damn, damn, damn!" she muttered in frustration.

A warm hand slid around her bare arm just above her glove causing her to jump in surprise. With a squeal she tried to pull away.

But Francis simply took her hand and tucked it in the corner of his elbow. Turning, he led her around the corner of the townhouse and toward the rear gardens. "Smart-mouthed and saucy. How very intriguing," he commented, as if their previous meeting had never been interrupted. "What has you so vexed, lass?"

"It's you!"

"And it is you, as well. I must admit I was hoping to see you again," he confessed to his own surprise, unaware that his low warm brogue was sending shivers of heat down her spine. It was an understatement to say the least. He had been torn the previous afternoon and part of this morning with presenting himself at the residence four doors down from his grandmother, but how to introduce himself if she wasn't evident in the front hall? Ask for the daughter of the house? What if she had been merely visiting? A possibility to be sure. When she had ridden away in that carriage, he had feared that he might not see her again and yet dreaded that he might. So taken aback by this bizarre attraction was he. Using his better judgment, he had waited, taking a chance that his grandmother would invite her neighbors this evening. Of course, she had. Lady Hyde was nothing if not courteous to her neighbors. She had been there! But when he had spotted his mystery lass earlier this evening, she had looked at him blankly as if she did not recognize him. He had been disappointed, but his logical side said that perhaps that was for the best considering the circumstances.

"You were?" she sighed breathlessly, then mentally kicked herself for sounding like such a school girl. "I didn't imagine I would see you here this evening," Eve lied casually.

"Lady Hyde is my grandmother, so I really had no choice." Francis savored the feel of her hand on his arm. The attraction he had felt the previous day had not faded in the slightest. Indeed, he would have to say that it had grown. "When I spotted you earlier this evening, you did not seem to recognize me. I thought perhaps I had made little impression on you despite the one you made on me."

Eve frowned in return. "I've been looking for you all– I mean, I did not see you earlier..." Her eyes widened and she flashed him a grin. The smile, the first he had seen from her, sent a bolt of awareness through him. "That must have been Kitty you saw earlier," she explained. "She is my sister. Most cannot tell us apart at all, we look so much alike."

"Ahh," Francis nodded and gave her a sweeping look from top to bottom, "of course, now I see that the gown and hair were different. I must say my own twin brothers do not resemble each other as much as you two."

"We're not twins at all, but many have said that it is uncanny, our resemblance."

"It is indeed." He turned into a side gate that led back to the gardens behind his grandmother's house. "So, here we are strolling now, much as we would have done if your father had not interrupted us before. It was your father, aye?"

At her nod, he continued, pushing aside the feeling of relief, "Was he the source of your ire?"

"My ire? Oh, well yes, I... ummm, suppose. Da and I are always at loggerheads with one another. It's the Irish in us," Eve tried to think of something intelligent to speak of as they entered the garden. She wanted to seem more sophisticated but could think of nothing. "It's a lovely garden, isn't it?"

"Aye, lovely," he repeated staring down at her with a feeling akin to wonder, and then shook his head to recall himself to her observation. "A passion of my grandmother's."

"I would have thought you a Scot considering your accent. However, I don't believe Lady Hyde is." Admittedly, she was grasping at the straws of polite conversation, but she could think of nothing regarding the weather that seemed appropriate in this situation.

"Aye, lassie, Scots I am," he answered, letting all his brogue show through and charming a smile from her. "Probably a good thing too since I recently heard curses being rained down on the heads of 'all idiot Englishmen'."

Eve had the good grace to blush. "You heard that, did you?"

"Lass, I would imagine that the western portion of Mayfair heard you as well." The left corner of his lip quirked up again in that tantalizing half-grin and Evelyn was reminded of how clearly enthralling those lips had been just a day ago. He stopped and turned to look down at her lovely face. "If you won't tell me what had put you into such a bonny temper, perhaps you might at least give me your name?"

Evelyn was nonplussed by the change of topic and parroted, "My name?"

"Evelyn, was it not? Your Christian name?" His eyes never leaving hers, his warm rough hand slid down her arm. Pausing briefly at the top of her glove, he slipped his hand down into hers and their fingers entwined. "What do your friends call you?"

Evelyn was again entranced by the intensity and heat of his gaze, but torn by the sensation of his fingers stroking the inside of her palm. "Eve," she whispered.

"Eve?" His rough, husky whisper was a sharp contrast to the tender squeeze of his hand. "Of the infamous Adam and... ?"

Evelyn flushed red, recognizing even in her innocence the seductive tone of his voice. "I suppose so," she whispered, her heart pounding.

"The lass of Eden? Och, surely it must be so, since you are a slice of Paradise right before my eyes." The wink he gave her was pure devil.

Eve rolled her eyes at that sappy bit of flattery, prompting him to grin even more. "Of course, you could be the curse sent to destroy the future of all mankind."

She pressed her lips together to stifle the smile that threatened to emerge. "So, you do have humor then? Given your marvelous display of ire, I wasn't sure it was possible."

"Very funny, sir," she glanced up at him. "Of course I have a sense of humor."

"Francis."

"I'm sorry. I cannot call you that. I'm not supposed to..." she tried to pull her hand away but he held tight.

"Call me Francis. Say it."

"Francis." Eve rolled his name on her lips and glanced at him again. He was probably not considerably older than her own nineteen years, maybe four or five and twenty years. His frame was tall, much taller than her five foot nine inches, since her forehead was level with his chin – she loved how she managed to feel petite by his side when she was anything but – yet Francis still had the lankiness of a young man as if his body had yet to fill out his height. His face was beyond handsome, long and lean with sharp cheekbones yet there was a softness in the curve of his cheek and jaw that hinted at youth. His hair was the darkest brown, nearly black, yet she remembered how the sunlight had glimmered on it drawing out facets of mahogany and red. His masculine beauty offered temptation that was hard to resist. Under thick brows, his eyes were a changeable olive green and brown that danced as if his life were full of joy and humor. And again his lips! His bottom lip had a tantalizing fullness to it.

Eve stared at those lips for a long moment, imagining what it might be like to have them pressed against her own. To have them devour hers...or to devour them with her own! A picture came to her mind that was beyond her own experience, but startled her with the fissure of heat that raced through her.

Blushing again, her gaze met his and she could see the answering heat in his eyes as awareness grew and tension built between them. He desired her, Eve realized, though she wasn't entirely certain what such wanting encompassed but if that desire was anything like she was feeling... These new, enflamed feelings could get her into scandalous trouble, though she wouldn't care at all if it meant holding him close to her. Shocked by her thoughts, Eve turned her head away and took in the scenery of willows and flowers.

Clearing her throat, she desperately tried to change the subject. "Why have we not met before, Francis?"

Easing out of the fog of desire that had hung so heavily between them, Francis followed her lead falling into the pleasantries. "I am only in town for the week. I don't like Town much but my sister wanted to come here to visit my grandmother."

"You must be a fine brother to suffer the city so."

"I don't suppose my other siblings would see it that way."

"Have you other sisters?"

"Nay, I have just one sister, Fiona. But I have nine brothers as well."

Eve's eyes widened, grateful for the distraction. She realized she had been staring but couldn't seem to help it. "Nine brothers? Nine? My goodness, your poor mother."

"Aye, well, my mum died shortly after Fiona was born." He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably at the subject.

"Oh, Francis!" she cried, clutching his arm, mourning her words as if she'd known this man forever. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

He patted her hand then squeezed it, but did not release it. "It was a long time ago and, well, she had wanted a daughter very badly. Papa did not take it well, of course, but we've managed well enough. Some of the younger bairns will never remember her though."

"You loved her very much," she stated with certainty.

"Aye, I am the oldest and so was honored to spend the most time with her. She was a bonny lady." He raised his eyebrows and quirked his half-grin at her. "English though." He tsked and shook his head. "Or do English ladies not hold the same regard in your mind as English men?"

Eve let out a low chuckle that warmed him, charmed him even more than he already was. My God, but she is the bonniest lass I have ever seen, he thought. Life and vitality simmered within her, radiating from her. Her physical beauty was stunning, but Francis knew with certainty that she was even lovelier on the inside. Her caring for the loss of his mother said much.

He caressed the top of her hand with his thumb, drawing her gaze again to his and again she blushed and looked away. She needed a distraction! "So you are the eldest, then nine brothers and one sister."

"Aye."

Grasping at the idea, something to pull her back from the intensity of his gaze, Eve latched onto the topic. "You know, I'm not sure I believe one can have nine brothers," she commented lightly. "What are their names?"

"Testing me, lass?"

"Merely verifying, sir."

"Very well, then. There's myself, Vincent who is a year younger at four and twenty, Richard is three and twenty, Jamie is one and twenty, Colin is twenty, Sean eighteen, the twins Tam and Ian are sixteen and scamps to be sure, Connor is fourteen, Dorian twelve and lastly wee Fiona who is but ten years." He grinned that alluring grin at her once again, making Eve catch her breath.

"Long-winded but I suppose I'll have to take your word for it." She squeezed his arm as she teased him. "It must be fascinating to be one of so many. I have only one sibling myself. My sister, Kitty."

"And, if I identify your speech correctly, you are American aren't you?" he probed for more information.

"Yes, my father is Irish though, as many Americans are. He came to America as a young man to make his fortune." Eve smiled somewhat painfully as she thought about where that had gotten them. "He was lucky, too. He managed to establish himself long before the famine in Ireland drove so many more of his countrymen across the ocean. It's shameful how hard-working Irishmen are treated sometimes, as if they are a disease on the face of the earth. Disgraceful. People call them Micks and even put up signs that say 'No Irish' when hiring. Thank goodness for my father since he hires so many..."

She rambled along, but Francis was charmed and aroused even more, knowing that she did it not to inform but to distract him and herself from the spell that seemed to engulf them. It was gratifying to know that it wasn't just him, that she felt the intensity of their attraction just as much as he.

# Chapter 5

As silence descended over them, Eve became aware that the music inside had stopped. "Oh, Francis, I should really be getting back. I ran out of the ballroom and my sister is probably wondering where I am. I'm sure I'll be missed."

"You followed me out?"

"Of course not! I was merely..."

"You followed me out."

"I - I followed you out," she admitted with a blush. "I regretted not speaking to you more yesterday."

"I did as well. I even questioned my grandmother to ascertain that all of her neighbors had been invited this evening. I have thought of nothing but you all day, lass." Francis stroked a thumb along the edge of her jaw.

"Really?" Heat coursed through Eve as she pressed his hand to her cheek. "Francis, I..." Her voice caught. What was happening to her? It was insane! She had only known this man for less than an hour. Just because she was feeling giddy and warm did not dictate that he felt the same. He could be the veriest rogue out to take advantage of innocent girls.

"My sweet Eve, my Eden," he took her face in his hands. "I know, I know."

"You know?" she whispered.

"I feel it as much as you," he whispered resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. "You awaken feelings in me that I had thought long gone." He raised her hand, punctuating each of his reasons with a kiss to her fingertips as if enumerating them. "Excitement. Happiness. Anticipation. Joy. I feel like a different person. A happier person." He turned her hand, placing a warm kiss to her palm that, even through her gloves, scorched her with its heat. Loosening the glove's buttons, Francis snaked a finger into the glove and slid it down her palm, sending a shock of electricity up her arm.

"You seem a most happy person to me." Eve stuttered disjointedly as she stared wide-eyed at him while he pressed those tempting lips to her bare wrist, her pulse pounding through her veins. Her head swam.

"I haven't been in a very long time."

As he made love to her hand, Eve stared helplessly into his warm eyes. If she made him happy, the feeling was ten-fold in her. The words he had used echoed her thoughts. It was as if being near him brought her... completion, she supposed. She had never felt more content to stay in a person's company before yet that contentment was edged with excitement, as he said. As if there were much more to come. Surely, if he could reduce her to such a quivering mass with just a few kisses on her hand, then there was much more to feel.

A lifetime in this man's arms. Eve knew with a bone-deep certainty that she never wanted to be anywhere else. Yet it wasn't to be. She was practically engaged to wed another man! The iniquities of life held her heart in a vise.

Francis stared down at her face, taking in the smoothness of her skin, the ivory silken texture, the full lips that he realized were quivering. He looked into her eyes, surprised to find them glassy with tears unshed. "Eve, please do not be upset. I only wish... " he paused, uncertain what he wished exactly, "to get acquainted with you."

"Sir, it is not seemly that I 'get acquainted' with a gentleman that I have not been formally introduced to." The words were the automatic response from the smallest part of her mind that was firmly entrenched in the propriety of their society. "Please, let me go."

"I'm not sure if I can," he whispered with a sigh of regret that was mirrored by his actions as his arms slid of their own will around her waist. "I would like to see you again."

Eve buried her face in his neck and clung to him. Emotions that she had never known assailed her. Dizzying desire, desperation. Duty. She had no idea how to handle it all.

"Sweet Eden, what is it that troubles you so?"

Eve savored the closeness of his body for a moment then jerked herself away turning to stare out over the nearby pond. "This is madness," she whispered more to herself than to him. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"I feel the same," he whispered behind her. "It's simply too fantastic to understand."

She stared out at the ducks as they paddled around bemoaning her near engagement to a man she did not love. Bemoaning the fact that she couldn't have met Francis sooner.

She heard the footsteps behind her but did not turn her body. She tensed with anticipation. His bare hand caressed her upper arm and slid down into her hand. His fingers entwined again with hers as they met. She clenched his hand glorying in the heat, and for the briefest moment leaned back against him with a contented sigh. His head lowered as his warm breath caressed the side of her neck. He inhaled the scent of her.

"Paradise... " he moaned against her neck, causing her body to quiver. "Sweet Paradise... "

Eve tilted her head to the side to allow his lips greater access to her neck. Her hand clenched his tightly while his tongue, lips and teeth explored and lingered on the throb of her pulse.

Unable to bear it any longer, Eve turned in his embrace and raised her lips to his in invitation. Framing her face in his hands, Francis bent his head, brushing his lips tenderly across hers back and forth. He caught her lips then in a light kiss before settling more deeply into it. His lips were firm as they moved over hers and Eve was shocked by the electric sensations that passed between them. It might have only been her first kiss but instinctively she knew that this was a rare moment. Heat and passion mixed with tenderness as their lips melded over and over.

Turning his head, Francis deepened the kiss, sucking lightly on her lips, prompting Eve to play on her earlier fantasy and pull his into her mouth in return. His tongue played gently at her lips, teasing and tickling, but didn't intrude farther as Eve had heard a man might. Instead, it seemed he matched his kiss to her innocence but it was overwhelming nonetheless. Francis' hand played up her arm to caress her shoulder, her throat, before sweeping down over her breast and moving on to cup her buttocks pulling her closely to him.

When he pressed himself against her, blood roared in Eve's head and for the first time in her life, she thought she might swoon.

"Evie!"

Eve jerked back from Francis as Kitty hissed frantically at her. A quick glance found her sister staring at her, wide eyed. Rather than looking shocked, she appeared rather fascinated as she waved insistently at her sister. Eve had to wonder how long she had been standing there. "Mother is searching for you. You had better come in."

Eve staggered back from Francis, her hand touched her lips in amazement before reaching out to touch his. He grasped her hand and kissed it. "May I see you again, Eden?"

"Yes, Francis," the words fell independently from her lips. She would just have to talk to her mother and explain to her that she had met someone and maybe an earldom was not the most important thing. "Tomorrow?"

"I cannot come tomorrow," his regret was obvious. "I have a business meeting in the morning. I will come in the following day... the residence with the slamming door?"

An enchanted smile broke out over her face. "Yes, the house with the slamming door."

"Until then," he kissed her hand again, nodded to her sister and melted into the darkness of the garden.

"Oh! Evie!" Kitty whispered in her ear as she practically dragged Eve into the house. Eve followed blindly in a trance-like state still reeling from the intimacy of her first kiss. "I have never seen anything... anything! so romantic in my entire life! What was it like? He is so handsome!"

Eve covered her still tingling lips with her hand and blinked with a dazed smile at her sister. replaying the wonder again and again in her mind. It had been so perfect! He was so perfect! Francis. Her Francis. Surely everything would change now! "Oh, Kitty! You have no idea! It was better than anything we had ever imagined. I've never felt anything so... so anything! Not in my entire life!"

"I cannot wait to hear it all," her sister's excitement was tangible. "I am so envious!"

"Oh, Kitty," Eve's eyes shimmered with innocent tears of awe and wonder, "is it truly possible? Is there love at first sight? I declare I'm in a daze!"

They entered the brightly lit ballroom arm in arm giggling together just as Margaret Preston approached. Eve's mother grabbed her hand, separating her from Kitty as she dragged her along and hissed in her ear, "Where have you been?" Not waiting for an answer, Mrs. Preston pushed her into a group of people that included her father and two other familiar looking gentlemen. Eve looked around trying to understand what was going on. Why was she standing up here in front of the entire assembly? The question was never verbalized, but answered nonetheless as the music came to a halt and their hostess, Lady Hyde – Francis' grandmother! – stepped forward.

"Ladies and gentleman!" Lady Hyde called to the crowd with a clap of her hands. "Ladies, lords! Your attention please! It gives me great pleasure that this announcement will be made at my little gathering! Lord Shaftesbury has just granted me permission to announce the engagement of his son, Lord William, to Miss Evelyn Preston! Let us all raise our glasses to toast the happy couple! To the future Lord and Lady Hindon!"

"Hear! Hear!" voices around Eve chorused as Lady Hyde kissed her cheek and gave her over to the younger of the two gentlemen next to her. Eve looked up into features vaguely familiar as the gentleman raised her hand and kissed it so formally.

"To us, my dear Miss Preston," he murmured with a bow, as Evelyn stood frozen in shock, uncertain what had just happened to her.

# Chapter 6

Eve went down to breakfast the next morning still in a shocked daze over the events of the previous night. It had all happened so quickly, but surely, it had not truly happened as she remembered. Surely, she was not betrothed? It was wrong, so wrong! Yet as she entered the dining room, her mother waved the morning edition of the Times with a satisfied smile. "Look, dearest!"

There it was in print.

Lord Robert Ashley-Cooper, 11th Earl of Shaftesbury, is pleased to announce the engagement of his son William, Viscount Hindon, to Evelyn Elisabeth Preston, daughter of American shipping magnate Lelan Preston....

"Are you honestly telling me that I am to marry a man I barely know? Just a couple of days ago it was only a possibility! Now it's reality? Why didn't you tell me? Warn me?" Evelyn's mind was a whirl as she read the words that brought the reality of the situation home. They had obviously planned the events of the previous evening ahead of time – without her knowledge – to have gotten the announcement into the morning's paper. They had known, but had said nothing. Her eyes burned with betrayal as she turned to her father who was still reading his paper. "Da? Please? This is not how you promised me this would happen."

Preston sighed as he laid aside his paper. "Evie, me lass, we've been here three months already and ye've shown no preference to any of the lads who've asked me for your hand. I cannae be gone from New York forever, so I picked one for you. Shaftesbury is a good man; I've worked with him for years. Good business sense. I'm sure his son will be no different. Besides, Hindon has taken a strong liking to you and has been persistent in his appeal for your hand since we met him in New York last autumn."

"You've engaged me to the son of the owner of one of Preston Shipping's English competitors, because his father has a good business sense?" She was getting her Irish up, she knew, but it was a better feeling than the queasy sickness that had been plaguing her all night. "You don't care that I barely know him? That perhaps there is someone else I'd rather marry?"

"I have done as I promised and given ye to a young, pleasant gentleman. He has all the qualities you require," Preston insisted. "Besides, you have not shown a preference before."

"Well, I'm showing one now!" she retorted her voice rising, quivering. "Besides, he isn't young!"

"Who do you prefer then?"

"Francis..." Eve faltered. Francis what? Had she not gotten his full name? "Lady Hyde's grandson. I met him last night."

"Yet, he did not seek an introduction to us," her mother tempered the argument with a calm logic.

"He will. He's going to call..." she started swallowing deeply as an abyss of desperation opened before her. She couldn't let this happen! "Da, why can I not marry Francis instead of some man I barely know?"

"And ye know this lad better?" He shook his head in denial. "I think not, lass, what's done is done. Besides, a lad approaches you without coming to your mother or me for an introduction? You know he is probably a fortune hunter out to charm you or compromise you into marriage," Preston argued.

"He's not like that! I know he's not!" She clutched desperately at her father's sleeve. He wasn't, was he? Surely he wasn't just out to compromise her into marriage to win her father's fortune. He had said he felt the magic as much as she. There was no way to fake that. Was there? Besides, he didn't even know who she was! Or did he? The confusion was rife.

"Enough from you, me lass. I have had enough this morning. Tomorrow we will depart for the earl's Dorset estate to finalize the engagement and settlement, then we will finally return to New York. You will wed Hindon and that is that." He brushed her hands from his sleeve with a rough pat.

Eve was stung. Her whole life her Da had pampered her, spoiled her. He had kept her mother from pushing her too hard with rules and high society. Yet in the space of just hours he had gone from her champion to her executioner.

"Why, Da?" she cried softly, as Kitty reached out to her and clutched her hands in sympathy, supporting.

"Your mother wants the earl for you and I am not going to live forever. I am an old man already. It is a good match," he sighed heavily. "What do you know of this lad you met?"

"He's..." Eve stumbled to a halt realizing she didn't know anything about him at all, other than he was in town visiting his grandmother, had a large family and was from Scotland. She knew only what he made her feel. "He's a good person, Da."

"I am making you a countess, Evie. Ye cannot throw that all away on some London city dandy who probably only wanted ye for yer inheritance."

"He doesn't know, Da!" she insisted, though doubt had begun to creep in.

"Are ye sure, lass? Are you sure he didn't know who ye are?" he asked craftily, knowing that every man in the city was aware of his daughters and what a marriage to them might bring. "I thought not," he answered, when her silence prevailed. "We will leave on the morrow."

"But, Da!" Eve cast around desperately. She had to be able to stay! She must see Francis again! "Kitty has yet to find a husband!"

"Kitty will wed Mr. Hayes of Boston. His father has written asking for her again as he had before we traveled here. Your mother and I discussed it this morning. Since she has not settled on a titled gent here and shows no inclination to do so, she will be engaged to her previous suitor," he informed her. "Since you had no suitors in New York, we had wanted to see you settled with a title."

"A title it will be," Eve cried out feeling as if her world were shattering into a thousand pieces. "A countess, as you wish it. So be it, Da, but you break my heart to do it." Bursting into tears, Eve ran from the room.

With a sigh, Lelan Preston rubbed his chest painfully as he watched his eldest daughter flee the room. The intermittent pain had returned. Rich as he might be, Lelan could not control the hand of fate, could not extend life beyond that with which God had blessed him. He was in his sixty-fourth year already with time and infirmity closing in on his heels. His girls might not as yet understand his motivations for seeing their futures settled but surely they would one day.

"Good morning, Mrs. Preston," he offered heavily as he rose to leave the room.

Mind racing in extreme anxiety, Eve dashed out the front door. It was still early! Perhaps Francis had not left yet. If she could catch him maybe he could come to meet her father and convince him that there were other options than wedding her to a near stranger. Absurd! She thought. Francis was a stranger! But, oh! it did not feel that way. She knew she could be happy with him.

The door on a hansom cab was just being closed and the coachman lifting himself into the seat as Eve raced down the street. "Sir! Please wait! Please!" she cried. Eve pulled at the window. "Francis! Are you in there?"

Francis stuck his head from the window. "Eden? What is the matter? Could you not wait a while longer?" he teased.

"Francis, I must speak with you just for a moment!"

The seriousness of her voice gave him pause. "What is it?"

"I know this is wrong, we've just met after all, but I need you to speak with my father." Eve faltered not knowing what she expected him to do, only that something must be done. "I want...I know I cannot expect..."

"You are terrifying me, lass."

"My father is making me get married, Francis! I need you to tell him that there might be a chance that maybe someday...that perhaps we might..." Eve bit her lip as Francis frowned and looked away.

"You want me to tell him that I want to marry you instead?"

A rush of relief flowed through Eve. He understood! Of course he did! Didn't he say that he had felt it, too? That there was something between them? "Yes, Francis, of course not right away, but..." she stopped as he held up his hand.

"Eden, I cannot marry you." His face flushed with guilt, regrets pounding profoundly in his heart. "Not now or ever."

"Why?" she whispered, trembling. A ghost of dread shivered down her spine as he gazed into Francis' closed expression.

"Because I am already married," he whispered in return, and watched her flee back up the street.

### Part 2

# Chapter 7

"What does not destroy me makes me stronger."

Friedrich Nietzsche

Raven's Craig Castle

Glenrothes, Scotland

April 1892

Evelyn née Preston, now Lady Ashley-Cooper, Countess of Shaftesbury, sat motionless on a bench in the shade of a large gnarled oak overlooking the pebbled beach of the Firth of Forth. From a distance, one might have had the impression of a timeless painting, so still was she. Her posture was stiff, her back straight. One gloved hand held her lacy parasol aloft just so in order to keep the remaining morning sun from touching her face. Her black woolen serge gown was adorned with jet beads and an enameled broach at her throat. The height of fashion... at least for one in mourning. Her other hand held a small book at eye level.

Though she might have appeared engrossed by the book's contents, in truth the countess was not paying it the slightest attention. Instead, she was thinking about the significance of the day.

One year ago that day, on April 13th of 1891, she had sat with her family in a carriage at the port of New York as the steamliner SS Anglia was disembarked not only by its regular passengers but also the 153 survivors of the Anchor Line steamship, the SS Utopia. New York had been the original destination of the Utopia before it had sunk off Gibraltar just four weeks before, killing a reported 574 of the passengers and crew on board.

Her husband, William, once just Lord Hindon but then Earl of Shaftesbury, returning from a business trip to Italy, had been booked on that ship.

Her father's position in the shipping industry had allowed them to pull their coach onto the dock to within just thirty feet of the gangplank from which the liner's passengers were disembarking. Four weeks without a word from William. Four weeks wondering if he was lost as they assumed, or would arrive on the Anglia that day with the others who had survived the Utopia tragedy.

Evelyn had sat in the carriage hunched and tense as she gripped Kitty's hands in hers. Surely if William had survived it would have occurred to him to make mention to her via telegram as other survivors had. If not to her, he would have never forgotten his man of business. Surely not. He must have perished!

I didn't want him dead, she told herself firmly as she stared at the book before her, denying even now the morbid wishes for her husband's demise. I never wanted him to die, to actually die, I just wanted to be free, free of him. But not that way.

She recalled how, as the passengers had continued to disembark, her agitation had sent her nerves over the edge as hope mixed with dread that William would come down the gangplank hale, hearty and whole. Reluctant guilt filled her when she had admitted to herself the hope was not for his survival, but for his demise. In her heart, she prayed that he would not be there, would not be among the survivors.

"Don't worry, dearest," her mother had assured her, leaning across to pat her hand. "I'm sure everything will be fine. I'm sure William is just fine."

A sound halfway between a sob and a hysterical laugh had escaped Evelyn's lips as she glanced at her mother, then to her father who just regarded her with a steady gaze that had done much for Evelyn's composure. "Worry not, daughter, one way or the other, it will end here."

Even now Evelyn recalled that warm wave of affection which had rolled over her at his words. Thank God she had finally gotten the nerve to talk to her father after William had left on his trip. She had taken a chance on her father's love and support that had failed her years before, finally telling him the truth of her marriage and begging his help to gain a divorce from William. If William had stepped off that ship, her father would have supported her decision to proceed with a divorce despite the protests that her mother would most assuredly voice over the scandal. Either way, she would have her freedom. But still....

Her mind drifted back to that day.

A sharp rap on the carriage door caught all their attention. "Mr. Preston, sir?"

Lelan leaned to look out the window, then reached to swing the door open. "Mr. O'Connell? What can I do for you?"

The harbormaster tipped his hat to the ladies in the carriage and lowered his voice to Preston. "Mr. Preston, sir, I noticed yer carriage here today and having heard of yer gal's man being on the Utopia, I took it upon meself to bring the captain of the Anglia here to ye so as ye dinnae ha' to wait any longer." O'Connell gestured to the other man accompanying him.

"Who is it, Mr. Preston?" Margaret asked.

Preston leaned back into the carriage and answered his wife, but watched his daughter as he spoke. "Mr. O'Connell is the harbormaster here for many years, Mrs. Preston. He has brought the captain of the Anglia here to us..."

All eyes turned expectantly to the captain, who, to his credit, did not look away or shuffle his feet. As his gaze met hers through the open door, Evelyn asked the question softly. "Do you have news of my husband, sir?"

The captain removed his hat and answered. "With regrets, ma'am, your husband, the earl, is not among those survivors we have aboard."

Evelyn sucked in a breath and swallowed. "Is there any chance...?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, all survivors bound for New York were brought aboard the Anglia."

"Thank you, Captain, for bringing word personally. It was most gracious of you." Years of training brought the words to her lips, but Evelyn's mind was already miles away.

"I am very sorry for your loss, ma'am." The captain donned his hat and, touching the brim, turned away. The harbormaster also nodded at Lelan Preston and moved on with the captain.

"Oh, Evie!" Kitty flung her arms around her sister as Eve buried her face in her hands.

"That is it, then," Preston grunted with a stiff nod, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "The earl is dead."

Thank God, thank God... the thought echoed through her mind all night, making sleep impossible as guilt and remorse racked though her.

After six terrible years of marriage, she had become a widow.

An investigation by the Crown had followed the return of the Anglia and William had been declared legally dead several months later. She became a widow officially, a state of existence for which she could not find in herself to be sorry.

As she now sat overlooking the firth glittering in the morning sun, Eve closed her eyes against the wind that fanned her face and blew long wisps of hair across her cheeks. That minute bit of untidiness would have earned her reproach just a year ago, she thought. She raised her chin and savored the feel of the breeze over her skin. Her mind was at odds with the peace she exuded. The stillness of her body bespoke a calm she did not feel. There was still so much wrong in her life.

After so many awful years of marriage, she had lost vitality, energy... and hope. Marriage had done this to her, made her this person she barely recognized.

When her then fiancé, William Ashley-Cooper, had chosen to stay in New York in the spring of '85 for the last three months of their year-long engagement, Eve had been grateful. Having not seen him in almost all of the previous nine months of their betrothal, Eve looked positively on the opportunity to spend some time together, to come to know him better before they finally wed. Thinking it best to put aside the nature of their engagement, Eve was determined to put her efforts into having the best marriage possible.

But still they did not spend a great deal of time together despite him taking up a residence just blocks away from her parents' 5th Avenue Manhattan home. Just once a week, he would make an afternoon call. One night a week he would escort her to a dinner or opera. By the time they had wed that June, Eve still felt that she did not know William any better for their year's acquaintance with the exception of knowing that he was very proud to have her as his fiancée and then his wife. He loved to have her on his arm, to show her off at each function they attended. His pride in her was very evident. If he would adjust her hair or accessories, Eve had been certain it was just so that she could look her best.

Following their wedding ceremony at St. Patrick's Cathedral and reception, they finally departed New York for their wedding trip. Surely, she had thought, they would begin to know each other better. The nearly year-long excursion was a traditional time for newlyweds to become acquainted when the fashionable standards of courtship did not really allow it at all.

But on the crossing, the only time she spent alone with her husband were the few nights he slipped into her stateroom. Remembering the only kiss she had ever shared with another, Evelyn had tried to embrace the physical side of her marriage but found her husband interested in only the briefest of unions. His attentions were dispassionate at best, in private and in public. Eve had wondered if it was a circumstance of his age. He was, after all, almost twenty years older than she. Perhaps that age difference might also have been the reason that he did not seem to like her or have any real interest in her as a person. They had diverse interests which stretched like a gulf between them. Yet, while William didn't seem to care for her company, he still insisted she accompany him each night for dinner with the captain and other notable figures aboard the ship.

In Paris, when Evelyn spent her days having her wardrobe completed by Monsieur Worth, William had been there choosing designs and fabrics so that she might spend her evenings as little more than a fashionable trophy on his arm at the theater and social events he scheduled. Still, if her marriage was not all that it could have been, Eve tried to be happy with what she had and embraced her opportunity to see Europe as she had always wanted.

Moving on to Italy, Evelyn had come to grasp the nature of the marriage William wanted from her. The polite distance. The public image. Realizing that there might never be any love lost between them, she had decided to enjoy her life on her own terms. Evelyn had loved Rome and Naples. For eight months they lived there. William wanted little to do with the region and more to do with the social life he participated in, leaving Eve to go her own way when he did not require her presence to adorn his arm. Evelyn spent her days exploring the region and had fallen in love with its history, architecture and romance while William worked and socialized with his associates.

They moved on to Greece and then to Vienna. As for seeing the world, it had been all that she had hoped for, even if the rest was not what she had longed for in a marriage.

Just after their first anniversary, they were called back to England when William's father, the earl fell sick. In the months following the earl's rapid decline and death, William had chaffed at the protocol of mourning which denied him the socializing he so enjoyed. They had spent that allotted year at his family seat of Saint's Haven in Dorset while Eve had her laying in for the birth of their son Lawrence. William had termed it an excellent use of their necessary absence from Society. Shortly after the birth of his heir, the earl insisted that they take up permanent address together in London.

It was at that point that Evelyn finally came to two separate realizations about her husband. The first was that he was deeply enamored of the very Society from which she had long wanted to remove herself. He loved the propriety that was bred there, the stricture of the manner. He was exceedingly concerned, almost obsessed, with what was "the thing" and was fixated with Taste. The new Earl of Shaftesbury was extremely popular and sought after as the leading authority of male fashion and form.

The second realization was that William had married her for one simple purpose. It was not the duty of bearing him an heir. As she had come to suspect, she was nothing but an object of ornamentation to him, indeed a living trophy for him to show off, much as the display he had created in their home from his collection of fine antiques, art and furnishings. When William Ashley-Cooper had come to New York with his father years ago, his purpose had been to obtain "things" that bespoke his wealth and influence. Evelyn was merely one of them. He had followed her to England, engaged himself to her and added her to his collection. More and more he treated her as such. He paraded her and their son before Society much as he showed off his new plumbing and electric lighting.

She became a thing rather than a person.

Oh, it began simply enough. The earl chose all Eve's clothing from style to fabric and then even went so far as to instruct her maid which outfit to lay out each day, and instructed her hairdresser on a more fashionable or flattering hairstyle. It had chafed a bit but Eve had let it pass not wanting to cause unnecessary ripples in their otherwise peaceful life. Subsequently, the control that he asserted over her grew. As time went by, it expanded to encompass her entire life. He determined where she could go, whom she could socialize with. He became obsessive fixated with her behavior and its reflection on him.

His countess must be perfect.

He insisted upon it.

Obsessively.

When she tried to rebel or even misspoke in some social faux pas, he would have her meals withheld, restrict her freedoms or often keep her son from her. On numerous occasions he had locked her in her room for days at a time before having her maid let her go, a maid chosen by William for her loyalty to him alone.

Never one to bow down quietly, Eve tried again and again to talk reason to her husband. To explain to him nobody expected her to be perfect. To insist she was capable of making her own choices. Receiving little reaction to logic, Eve had railed at him fervently over his treatment of her. Strangely, his manner to her never roused itself to anger; William was ever passive. Her arguments became many, his punishments coldly severe. Over time, they became more and more bizarre. There had been a time she had shaken the American ambassador's hand instead of offering hers daintily. Her maid had delivered twenty slaps to her open palm with a leather strap while William looked on with cold ferocity. Once, when she hadn't curtsied deeply enough to a duke, he had had her bound in a submissive bow with her cheek to the floor for a full night, the skirts of her courtly gown spread on the floor around her. He was as a maleficent schoolmaster and she his unwilling student.

Without Lawrence, her little Laurie, Eve felt as if she would have truly gone insane. Though William considered him a prime reflection of himself and his achievements, Laurie was Eve's greatest joy, so adorable with his blond curls and green eyes. The only thing that might have made him more perfect in her eyes would have been if his hair were much darker and his eyes a mossier green. When thoughts would raise themselves, Eve banished them firmly. Nothing could change the hell that her life had become.

In the fall of 1890, they had taken up residence in Manhattan while the earl expanded his collections with American works of art. They lived in the house William had bought during their engagement, in the low 800's of Park Avenue, not far from her parents' 5th Avenue residence, yet she might as well have still been living in a different country. She might see her family at balls and dinners, but never alone. Through threat and action, she had become engulfed by that world until there was very little of herself left beneath the polish that the Earl of Shaftesbury had cultivated.

Posture: perfect. Voice: cultured, gracious. Actions: refined.

Eve had become but a shell of the girl she had once been.

His departure to Italy on a business trip that February had been a blessing.

His failure to return, a miracle.

But in the year since his death, her hopes for the future had not come to fruition.

The hopes that things would change, that she might find her old self once more. A year of mourning had not given her a return of any of those things.

Even after all this time, she had not been able to emerge from the persona that William had erected around her. She had withdrawn into herself. She hadn't been able to find herself, the girl she had once been. If anything, she was even more restrained than before. Instead of feeling free, as she was sure she should, she had been unable to break through the years of training she had been given and punishment she had suffered.

The façade he had built remained strong.

Cultivated perfection.

# Chapter 8

Following the Crown's investigation into the earl's disappearance and assumed death, Eve and Laurie had been summoned by Queen Victoria to return to England. Her council had reviewed the findings and confirmed its conclusion. William's title and properties had been conferred to Laurie. Eve had been granted position as his legal guardian and trustee of the estates since William had no other surviving family. The Queen had insisted that they reside in Britain at any of the earldom's properties until Laurie reached his majority, so Eve could not even return to New York for more than a long visit.

Forced by the Queen's hand to stay in England, Eve had immediately let William's entire staff go from each of his properties including Saint's Haven and hired all new servants that she felt she could trust and rely on, none who knew of the humiliations William had rained on her. People she could trust to care for her son.

Her little son, just five years old, was the 13th Earl of Shaftesbury, one of the oldest titles in England. She was determined that he would become the best one ever. To that end, she had hired a tutor and personally saw to his education several hours a day, but she was also determined that Laurie would be a little boy as she had been allowed a childhood of her own. So for the first time in his young life, they played each day as well. It was the only time she was ever able to let herself go even a bit. Eve taught him to ride his first pony – a luxury William would never have allowed since he despised riding horseback, gave him his own little bow and quiver full of arrows, and was determined to travel soon to Scotland to begin his education in her favorite sport – golf.

Since the thought of travelling had been on her mind at that time, it had seemed almost as if the hand of fate had stepped in when her dear friend Abygail Merrill from her boarding school days, now Lady Richard MacKintosh since her marriage, had come to Dorset seeking a favor of her old school chum. Abby and Richard were staying not far from Saint's Haven at her grandmother's estate in Deal for the laying-in of her second child. Her first pregnancy, it seemed, had ended in a difficult delivery prompting the couple to stay closer to London and its more experienced doctors for this next event.

When she had arrived, Abby had begged Eve to travel to Edinburgh for her. Two of Richard's younger brothers had recently become engaged to a pair of sisters. Coline and Ilona Roper were the daughters of Baron Teynham, Abby had explained, a very popular family in Edinburgh. The MacKintosh family, headed by the Earl of Glenrothes, wanted to hold a full-scale formal ball and house party at their family's ancestral castle, Raven's Craig Castle, to celebrate the engagement. It would be the height of the Edinburgh Season. Dinner, dancing, et cetera. However, the girls had no female relatives capable of handling such a large scale affair and none of the other men in the family were married. Abby herself was unable to undertake the entirety of the task due to her delicate condition and imminent labors.

The only one she trusted to see it done properly was the Countess of Shaftesbury. As incentive, Abby tempted Eve with her Edinburgh townhouse and the carte blanche the Earl of Glenrothes had proffered for the event. Anything Eve wanted would be hers.

Eve had been undecided, perhaps even scared, if she were honest with herself. Go out in public? Back into Society? Nerves raced through her body. How could she put herself in a situation where this hated façade would be at its worse? It was one thing to be like that when William was alive and she had no choice, but now? She wanted so badly to be herself once more, but what if she only discovered this was how she was, and was forever going to be? How could she explain that to her friend?

Her feeble attempts to argue had been brushed aside. Even now it brought a reluctant lift to her lips to recall Abby's tenaciousness in getting Eve to agree to do it. When the offer of the townhouse had not been enough, Abby had urged her to bring her own staff and bribed her with limitless finances.

Then had come the coaxing. "Besides, Coline and Ilona Roper are sweet girls," she had praised the pair of young brides. "You'll like them. If you don't help us to plan this ball, they'll have to have their great-aunt Eleanor to do the honors as hostess, since they have no other female relatives to help and none of Richard's other brothers have wives to help out. Eleanor is nearly eighty years old! Can you imagine! She'd never be able to keep up with them."

"And I could?"

"Heavens, Evelyn! Of course you can! What are you thinking of?"

"I'm thinking 'Why is their mother not helping them'?"

"She ran away with their coachman when Coline was twelve," Abby had related, straight-faced.

Evelyn snorted in a very unladylike way, very reminiscent of her old self. It had surprised and pleased her.

When coaxing had failed, Abby had pulled out her trump card. Guilt.

Abby had swept a hand down her rounded figure. "I'm asking you as a friend to do this for me. Indeed, begging. I simply cannot do it. I will be here for several more weeks at least. I will barely be able to make it back to Edinburgh in time for the ball and my strength will take some time to recover after the birth." Evelyn merely shook her head at that weakly spoken statement. The argument may have been a good one if Abby had not managed to look disgustingly healthy while she said it.

Nevertheless, it had worked. So, here she was.

She had been in Edinburgh for almost two months now, working diligently on planning the engagement ball for Richard's two brothers. She was a countess, after all, an accomplished hostess not only by William's hand but her mother's as well. She had taken over Lord Richard MacKintosh's Edinburgh townhouse and even brought some of her own staff along, since most of theirs had gone to England with them. She had settled in, very much at home.

Invitations had been sent; menus for the engagement ball and for the week's end house party had been planned and printed. George II place settings and silver had been chosen, flowers ordered, centerpieces designed and commissioned and additional staff engaged for the events at Raven's Craig Castle. She had escorted Coline and Ilona Roper to the dressmakers, helped them receive guests for their morning calls and chaperoned them through the beginning of the Season. Their trousseaus and linens were ordered.

She had been busy from dawn 'til dusk. Falling into bed exhausted had been a pleasant change from the sleepless nights which had plagued her. But while she had enjoyed the tasks, there had been little opportunity to venture from her persona of perfection. In fact, the past months had only served to emphasize her social panache.

Would she ever feel truly alive again?

# Chapter 9

"In every moment, the quality of your life is on the line.

In each, you are either fully alive or relatively dead."

Dan Millman

As the morning sun rose, Eve left the beach and strolled back to the castle, picking her way across the low stone outlines of what was once the bailey and outbuildings of the original 15th century Raven's Craig Castle. Hundreds of years after its construction, only the main keep and two towers remained. Eve had left Abby and Richard's lovely townhouse on Moray Place in Edinburgh's New Town district two days ago to come here, to Raven's Craig Castle, to oversee the final arrangements for that evening's ball and the house party to follow. In those two days, she had fallen in love with the historic castle. Though it was the ancestral home of the Earls of Glenrothes, the condition of the castle in years past had prompted the earldom to build a more modern estate for its primary residence at Glen Cairn. The current earl, it seemed, had taken an interest in the castle again and was in the process of restoring the portions that remained. Eve wished she could be there to see it when it was done for she felt he was doing a brilliant job of it.

Coming through the main hall which extended from the front of the castle through to the back entrance, Eve could see through the open front doors an elegant carriage sitting at the end of the bridge that spanned the former moat. "Who has arrived, Godfrey?" she asked of the earl's butler as she entered, offering him her bonnet, gloves and parasol. "We weren't expecting any of the family to arrive until this afternoon."

"Lord and Lady Richard MacKintosh have just arrived, my lady," the butler answered.

"Lady MacKintosh is here?" she responded in surprise. In spite of Abby's assurances, she hadn't been expecting them back until long after the engagement ball was over. "Where have you put them?"

"She has made herself quite at home in the rear drawing room."

"Of course she has! It's her home!" Eve admonished as she hurried into the room. "Abby!"

"Evie!" her long-time friend returned with a wide grin as she struggled to rise from the chaise where she reclined.

"Please don't get up!" Eve urged as she approached.

"What is that?" Abby asked with a wave of dismissal at Eve's outstretched hands. "Give me a hug, silly girl. I have missed you!"

I have missed you too! Eve thought as she awkwardly returned the embrace the other woman bestowed on her. After a moment, she sank into the hug thinking how wonderful it was to have a real friend.

Abby gestured to the man by her side as he rose to greet Eve. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure if you have met Richard before, have you?"

Eve replied in the negative and turned to Richard as Abby introduced her to her husband. "I was so sorry I couldn't make it to your wedding and did not have the opportunity to meet you before, Lord MacKintosh," Eve addressed Abby's husband formally as she perched on the edge of the sofa. The refreshment tray was delivered and Eve set to being a perfect hostess. "I so wanted to come, but Shaftesbury did not think it a good idea."

Did not think it necessary, she amended mentally. It was an argument that had cost her a week locked in her room.

"Not at all, Lady Shaftesbury," Richard replied. "The fault is mine for not meeting you while we were in Deal."

Pleasantries finished, Eve surveyed her friend. "My goodness, Abby, you look wonderful."

Indeed, for a woman who had given birth to twin girls just four weeks before, Abby looked remarkably vibrant, though exhausted. "Truthfully, I am quite dog-tired but I knew Richard would regret not making it back. Luckily, the train is fairly quick and we had a private car but the carriage from Edinburgh this morning was most tiring."

When Abby lay her head back wearily on the chaise, Eve heard Richard whisper to his wife. "We shouldn't have come, angel. I hate to see you suffer so. We could have missed this."

Eve watched as Richard caught his wife's hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. He smiled at his wife with a look of such love that Evelyn's heart twisted in a pang of envy as she turned away from the couple. How would it feel to be loved so? To have the love of a man showered on you so openly and fully? She couldn't imagine.

"Nonsense," Abby replied briskly. "I'm fine, but who would have ever thought that two hours in a carriage might be more trying than twelve hours on a train?"

"The fact that you spent the entire train journey abed in our private car might have made that leg a bit more comfortable," Richard teased.

Abby merely laid her head back against the chaise with a sigh, her unwillingness to argue a testament to her exhaustion. "At least I had company," she teased softly.

Finding their tender tones uncomfortable, Eve offered briskly, "Well, you should go up to your room then and rest. The evening ahead will be exhausting for everyone and we have not your excuses to make. I will have a tray brought up to you and send a maid up to run you a bath." Eve had only been at Raven's Craig for a couple days but had already found the castle's staff to be remarkably well trained and very friendly.

Abby raised a hand to stop Eve's progress to the bell pull and shook her head. "Not yet, Evie. Please sit and tell me how everything has gone so far. I must say you are looking much better than when you left London. Your color is much better. Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"I must say it has been very pleasant having a purpose and Edinburgh is such a lovely city even this time of year. When you are rested, we can review the menus for the week and the room assignments in case there is anything you would like to change," she offered politely.

Waving her off, Abby smiled, "I'm sure everything will be just lovely, dear. You have excellent taste. I would not have asked you to do this otherwise. Besides, your letters kept me well informed."

Eve nodded, graciously accepting her assurance. "And where are the babies? I should like to see them."

"The nurse is having them changed," Abby told her with a frown, studying her friend trying to understand what was different. "She took Trist up to play with Laurie as well," she added, referring to her four-year old son Tristram.

"I'm sure they'll get on famously." Eve arranged the cups on the tray. "I must say, I wasn't expecting you back so soon after the birth."

"We didn't want to miss the engagement ball."

"The Roper girls are quite anxious for tonight as well," Eve replied. Her voice was fond but polite. Distant.

"And Sean and Colin as well," Abby answered, looking at her friend with a frown marking her angelic brow. "My grandparents travelled up with us. You should see them this evening."

"How lovely."

Lovely? What was going on here?

Eve prepared their cups, adding sugar to Abby's from memory and asking of her husband how he preferred his. "I must say I am so glad to meet you at last, Lord MacKintosh..."

"Just Richard, please."

Eve hesitated a beat. "Thank you, Richard. Abby's letters make me feel as if I know you already. Of course, I had heard many stories about you since we were in school together. Abby had the veriest esteem for you even then," she added with a soft smile.

Veriest esteem? The Eve she had known would have pounced on the opportunity to tease her friend. That comment should have at least been accompanied by a grin and a wink! Abby's brow wrinkled again. "Is that what I had?"

"Yes, quite," Eve confirmed with a slight nod. "You know it is true."

Abby shrugged, since she could not deny it even though she might rephrase it. She had grown up on the estate neighboring Richard's. Her older brother, Jack, was a great friend of Richard and his brothers. She had pursued him all through her adolescence and into her twenties before finally getting him to the altar five years ago.

Of course, Richard was the lucky one, Eve thought. Abygail MacKintosh was a beautiful woman inside and out. She was also as tiny as a woman could get. Standing next to her, Evelyn often felt as tall as a giant, an Amazon to her pygmy and as ungainly as an ox. Several inches less than five feet in height, Abby often appeared to be a small child at first glance so petite was she. She was an extraordinarily lovely woman, however, with angelic blond beauty.

"What is this, Eve?" Abby inquired as she sipped her tea and pulled a periodical from the table beside the chaise.

"It's a new periodical that Kitty sent me from New York. I just received it yesterday and was so enthralled I could barely put it down." Eve assembled a little plate of sandwiches and cakes for her friend and delivered it to her.

"Cosmopolitan?"

"Please feel free to take it since I am finished," Eve offered politely. "I'm certain Kitty will send on the next issue."

"Thank you, I will. Ahh, here are our little lasses now!"

Two nurses entered, each carrying a small bundle. As they took them to the twins' parents, Eve couldn't stop herself from jumping up to intercept one of them. Taking one of the girls into her arms, Eve stared down into a pair of bright blue eyes and hummed with delight.

"What do you think of my girls, Evie?"

Eve looked up from the baby girl she cuddled with a flush of embarrassment at having been caught cooing softly to the baby. "How precious, Abby! Oh, I know you wrote me of their names, but I cannot remember." Eve cuddled the little girl close and smelled the sweetness of the newborn. "Which one is this?"

"You have Bryn and this is Corri," Abby cuddled the other baby when the nurse laid her by her mother's side.

"Twins!" Eve exclaimed, placing a soft kiss on the down blond head of the newborn. "I don't know how you managed it or how you can tell them apart, but they are just lovely!"

Eve rocked the babe in her arms and cooed softly while Richard lowered the other babe to Abby's side and took a seat beside her. His gaze when he looked upon them both was so tender it made Eve's heart clench. Eve studied her friend's husband more fully. He was tall, perhaps six feet or so, with dark brown hair and light brown eyes.

"You know, Richard," she mused as she idly rocked the baby from side to side, "you seem very familiar to me. Have we met before? Perhaps when I was in London for my debut or after I wed?"

"I am sure I would remember," Richard answered with a complimentary smile, earning a jab from his wife. "It's unlikely however. I left England in '83 when I joined the Queen's army and went into Africa and did not return until '87."

"Yes," Eve nodded remembering stories Abby had told her. "I recall when you left now. That was my last year at the academy. Still, I can't help but think that you look so familiar." Dismissing the déjà vu feeling, she turned to her friend. "I am certainly glad you've returned, Abby. I suppose now I might turn the reigns over to you as hostess. Certainly I don't need to even attend this evening since you're back." A bit of relief niggled at the back of her mind. Coward! She accused herself, but her inner faint heart merely shrugged off the insult.

"Of course, you do," Abby stated firmly. "As far as I am concerned you are still hostess of this affair. I'm certainly in no condition to take over. Besides, Richard's family will want to meet you." Abby leaned her head back again as if exhaustion were overtaking her. "If I know you, you already have a spectacular gown ready, so name one reason why you cannot carry on."

"You do realize that I am supposed to be in half-mourning yet?" Evelyn argued. "Realistically, I am not supposed to show my face in Society for another three months at least."

"Even if Shaftesbury death was officially declared until last June, it's still been over a year since he died. No one here is counting months, Evie, nor would they care even if they were aware of how long it's been," Abby dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

One year today, Eve thought. No, she corrected. Just a year since she found out. True enough, it had been thirteen months since the ship had gone down.

Abby went on, "I wrote and invited Moira to the ball and house party. Think of how lovely it will be to see her again."

Eve sighed. It would be wonderful to see Moira again, their fourth musketeer, as it were. Though they wrote regularly, as Eve had with Abby, she hadn't seen Moira since before her marriage. Just imagining herself, Abby and Moira together again made her long for Kitty to join them.

"You need to get out and live again, Eve. And deep down, I'm certain you even want to, you simply haven't realized it yet! The girl I knew loved to go dancing! Just think of what a brilliant time you'll have!" Abby argued, dangling the lure of a chance to let loose a bit.

"Alright, alright," Evelyn's soft Irish brogue, a rarely heard gift from her father, emerged barely detectable. She knew she'd been duly defeated when it escaped her. "I give up. Truly, Abby, you are the most persistent of people. However, I don't have to like it and I don't intend to stay long."

Abby grinned in satisfaction. "You'll have a wonderful time."

"You know how odd it will look, of course. An American English countess acting as a hostess for a pair of Scottish girls in a family that she hasn't even met in its entirety?" Evelyn's lips twisted. "We ought to cause quite a stir!" She closed her eyes and sighed, remembering all the balls she had attended in New York and her Season in London. How she missed dancing! It would be so nice to dance again! "Maybe just one dance," she conceded out loud. "If I can find someone to dance with."

"Richard can dance with you, since I will not be on my feet at that point," Abby offered for her husband, who nodded favorably with a quick smile. "He also has scads of unmarried brothers who can keep you busy." A little frown flitted across her brow briefly. "Jack is expected as well, you know."

Eve couldn't stop the groan that escaped her lips. Abby tilted her head back with a sigh. "I must ask, Evie, how irritated are you by my brother's behavior? I am curious, has he been such a trial?"

Abby had warned her before she had come to Edinburgh that her brother, Jack Merrill, the Earl of Haddington, had come up with a plan to rebuild his diminished fortunes by marrying an heiress. Apparently their father and then older brother had left the Haddington estates in terrible disrepair and nearly bankrupt, leaving Jack little choice but to wed for wealth. Somehow, in spite of Eve's cold reception, the man had taken it into his head that a wealthy widow trumped a young heiress and had set his sights on her. Like a hound on the scent, he had discovered her wealth and set his sights upon making her his wife.

Persistently.

Annoyingly.

Oh, he was handsome enough with his dark mahogany hair and unusual golden eyes, but she just wasn't interested and he had been most infuriating this past month. "He hasn't been too much of a pest," Evelyn hedged, voicing just a bit of displeasure aloud.

"Bah, liar!" Abby declared with a snort. "I know my brother!"

"Indeed, I am," Eve confessed, and went on to tell her friend how much a fool Jack Merrill had been making of himself recently. "I swear he simply would not let me be. Every moment I turned, there he was!"

Their first meeting, she hadn't even known who he was. Eve had been walking through the gardens in the park when she had noticed a man staring very rudely at her. Before she had been able to reprimand him for his rude behavior he had approached her, staggering from side to side. Public drunkenness and in the morning hours as well! After bowing extravagantly before her, he had taken her hand placing a sloppy kiss on it and declared that with a woman like her to bed, marriage might become a tolerable state.

Naturally Eve had slapped his face and informed him briskly that he was presumptuous and rude, a Neanderthal unfit for decent society, a swine of the lowest order. She had coldly insulted him before threatening to call the constable if he did not leave immediately.

Eve related this to Abby who set off squeals of laughter at the thought of her brother being so thoroughly set down.

Their second meeting had not been much better. While she had been reviewing the guest list one afternoon, Hobbes had informed her that Lord John Merrill, the Earl of Haddington, had come to call. Interested to meet Abby's older brother since she had never before had the opportunity, Eve had entered her parlor with a polite smile of greeting, until he had turned and she had seen his face.

"He asked me to marry him!" she repeated now to Abby, still in utter disbelief. "After just five minutes' acquaintance!"

"So much for his suave reputation," Richard joked with a wide grin.

"Do you not like him even a bit?" Abby asked, biting her lip to stifle another round of laughter. "Ooo, that hurts. Don't make me laugh!"

"Not even the smallest bit. I'm sorry." Eve offered a conciliatory smile to soften the comment. Either Jack Merrill was unbelievably arrogant or he was entirely stupid. Evelyn did not know which, nor did she care to contemplate it. But true to his word, the Earl of Haddington began a wholehearted pursuit of the countess that embarrassed more than anything else. "I am in no danger of being wooed by your brother. I have no intention of ever sticking my head in the marital noose again."

However, comments Haddington had made regarding her being an 'ice queen' plagued her mind. Eve contemplated the image she knew she must present to those who did not know her well. Cold, unconcerned and uncaring. She tried, truly she did, to bring forth some of her old enthusiasm for life and for people. Could they not see she tried? Could they not see she was scared to let people near her? The thought of having someone else control her life terrified her. Eve sighed painfully.

Mistaking Eve's heartfelt sigh, Abby offered her a conciliator. "My brother will be arriving soon. I will have a talk with him and let him know he simply must leave you alone."

"Well, quite frankly, I would appreciate it if you could make him understand I have no wish or motivation to remarry," Eve pleaded. "Frankly, he is driving me to the madhouse."

Abby laughed out loud. "He does have that way about him, does he not?"

"I doubt he'll give up too easily," Richard warned.

"I hope you'll do your best to dissuade him!" Eve tilted her head in the direction of the hall, hearing voices rising up to her. "Speaking of the devil, I fear he approaches now. Perhaps I can help take the babies up to the nursery for their naps and avoid him in turn?"

"Goose!" Abby chided, as she nodded to the waiting nurse to take the other baby up to the nursery.

"Yes, yes, you may tease me all you wish later, but I must run before he gets here!" Eve led the way towards the door. "Please get some rest before the ball tonight. Promise?"

Abby laughed and shooed her away. "I promise! Now run away little goose!"

# Chapter 10

"Godfrey, my good man! Good morning!" Jack Merrill, Earl Haddington, handed his hat and gloves to the castle's butler as he strode into the front hall. "Is my sister about?"

"Good morning, my lord. Lady MacKintosh is in the rear drawing room with Lord MacKintosh this morning," the butler informed the earl, while handing off the earl's personal effects to a waiting footman.

"Thanks, old man!" Jack took the stairs two at a time to the first floor, calling over his shoulder. "Don't close the door just yet, Godfrey! I have a surprise right behind me. Send him up, won't you?"

"Abby," he called when still several rooms away from his sister.

"You needn't shout, Jack, I'm in here." Jack entered the drawing room to find his sister ensconced on a chaise with her husband.

"Abs, my sweet! You're back!" He reached down to lift her into his arms for a tender embrace, taking care not to manhandle her. "You look smashing! Where are my nieces? I am dying to see them."

"They are napping in the nursery," Abby answered, hugging her brother in return. Rogue that he might be, Jack had always been the best of brothers to her and she loved him dearly. She was glad to see him looking so cheerful. The last time she had seen him had been just after he had inherited the bankrupt earldom from their older brother, Cullen. Jack had been shocked by the enormity of his new responsibility.

"I will have to run up and see them, but first look who I managed to bring home for the ball this evening?" Jack gestured from Abby and Richard to the door almost as a magician reveals his best trick. "I give you Earl Glenrothes! The elder of the MacKintosh clan. The one and only!" A tall dark man strode into the room. "You didn't think he'd come did you?" Jack added with a wink.

A pleased smile lit Richard's features and he leapt up for a back pounding hug with his eldest brother. "Francis! Good God, old boy! I didn't think anything would get you to leave your hiding place and join us this week."

Abby offered a hand to the newcomer who took it with a squeeze of affection pressing a warm kiss to her fingers. "No honestly, I did not think my brother would succeed in luring you home, even if it is an engagement ball for two of your own brothers. Francis, how are you? However did Jack convince you to come?" she asked as her brother-in-law clasped her hand warmly between his own.  
"I simply told Francis I have narrowed my list down to one eligible lady I am considering for my wife, and asked him to come and give me his stamp of approval." Jack poured himself a drink from the sideboard and pulled another chair over to join his friends and sister where they sat.

Abby frowned. "That is awful, Jack. You know I think this idea is very calculated and cold, but I have decided I must ask you to stop now. The countess doesn't even like you."

"Aye, I believe you lectured me on the subject ad nauseum via mail these several weeks past," Jack commented examining his nails in detail. Truth was, he didn't care much more for the countess than she seemed to care for him. She was a cold-hearted woman, more strait-laced than any he had met. But she was indecently wealthy and a widow old enough and experienced enough not to have great expectations of marriage. She was everything a desperate man could ask for. "Your reservations are duly noted, but, still, I give you my thanks for tossing the countess, the very rich countess, into my lap. I shall prevail in the end."

Abby reached out to slap her brother on the side of the head. "I sent Lady Shaftesbury here to help me, not to suffer from your cruel stratagem. She will not remarry, I promise you."

"You send one of the richest widows in the whole of Britain to stay in your house while I am looking for an heiress and you expect me to not pursue the opportunity?" Jack quirked an eyebrow in question, "I considered her a gift from you the moment I met her."

"Well, I guess it was fortuitous for her I did not offer our townhouse for you as well, otherwise she would never have had a moment's rest from your pursuit," she chided, torn between amusement at her brother's single-mindedness and sympathy for her friend. "Truly, Jack, choose another."

Glenrothes chuckled in response to the siblings' argument. "So the scheme is working as we planned? This is not just a ruse to remove me from my seclusion? You have found a wealthy woman to wed and save your estates? When do I look her over?"

Abby tsked in disgust. "I can't believe you are going to help him make such a calculated decision, Francis. This is a terrible reflection on your views of womankind."

Francis had much to say about womankind that certainly wasn't kind at all. However, he had known Abby since she was a girl and felt that by this point she should be well aware of his reasons. Not wanting to offend her by itemizing them, Francis looked to Richard for assistance. "What say you, brother?"

Stepping into the fray, the younger MacKintosh put his arm about his wife's shoulder. "Now, Abby, my angel," he used the nickname he had always called her by since she was a child, "some men have reason not to fully appreciate your gender."

She looked at her husband with narrowed eyes. "If that is the best you can do, Richard MacKintosh, you had best keep your thoughts to yourself."

She turned on her brother-in-law with the same look and Francis was tempted to back away defensively. Abygail might be a tiny, innocent looking girl, but she had the fierceness of the angriest bull. Angel, indeed! Avenging angel was more like it.

"Aye, I know you, Francis. I know you like women not at all and perhaps you do have good reason for those sentiments..."

"Perhaps?" both Francis and Richard gasped in unison.

"All right," Abby continued unabated, "you do have reason." In fact, Francis had very good reason to dislike women. His wife had made his life miserable for a decade, plaguing him with embarrassment and humiliation. "However, Francis, that is not the case with my brother. Life with the ladies has been too easy for that rogue. He looks at them now as unwanted pets. He's a cad. He would never treat a lady as she deserves."

"I say!" Jack exclaimed, taking offense. "I am right here, you know."

But Francis held his ground. "Not all ladies deserve to be treated well."

Abygail threw up her hands in exasperation. "Francis, when are you going to realize all ladies are not like Vanessa? She is the exception, not the rule."

Francis chuckled and stepped forward to place a hearty buss on her cheek. "No, my dear, you are the exception, and my brother doesn't deserve you."

"I couldn't agree more," Richard chimed in, placing a gentle kiss on her other cheek.

Abby blushed with pleasure but refused to be swayed from the topic. "But Vanessa..."

"Enough about that damned woman," Francis said holding up a hand. "I would have come anyway for the ball... I would have! But Jack needs a deciding vote here and I will give him one as I promised to. Then he'll have his rich wife and his problems will be solved. Either she'll make his life hell or they'll end up living peaceably... away from one another. End of argument."

"Perhaps, then, Jack will fall in love," she suggested.

The men all chuckled. "I hardly think that is an option, my love," her husband told her.

"And I'm inclined to agree with Richard," Francis added.

"As am I," Jack cast his vote as well.

Abygail wrinkled her nose. Like her brother, the men of the MacKintosh clan were stubborn, obstinate men who were never wrong, at least in their own minds. Some day they would fall, and fall hard, and she prayed that she would be there to see it. "One day you'll end up head over heels, Jack, and I will have the last laugh."

All three men laughed in clear disbelief and Francis slapped his friend on the back. Abby turned on him, also silencing her husband with a look. "I would not laugh so hard, Francis MacKintosh. Your day will come as well. I remember a time when not all women were so repulsive to you."

Francis' mind slipped back years ago when a beautiful lass had filled his heart and mind, but shook away the feeling. Reality had shown him a much different tale. One filled with misery that had taken over his life. There was little happiness, laughter was rare and cynical. "Women have their uses, but the day I truly fall for a woman will be a cold day in hell," Francis predicted grimly.

"Then I will see you there." Abby crossed her arms and nodded in satisfaction as she considered Francis and her brother. Aye, it would happen, she thought, with a bit of a shiver as a feeling of premonition overtook her. Things were definitely about to change.

# Chapter 11

Charles Worth once said a lady spends most of her life either pregnant or in mourning and had endeavored to make a fashionable wardrobe available for both of these situations. The Countess of Shaftesbury shone in Worth's latest creation proving that mourning wear could hold its own at the height of fashion. Never had Eve felt more sophisticated or elegant than she did as she stood for what seemed like hours in the reception line, welcoming the guests to the ball. She held out her hand and greeted all politely from under her carefully cultivated veneer.

The Worth gown she had chosen was a black satin with cut black velvet flora motifs covering the bodice, and skirt detailed with rhinestones that flashed and winked as she moved. The bodice was cut in a low V ruche that led to the point at the waist. Chantilly lace over white ruched chiffon served as sleeves, fluttering about her arms above her long white gloves matching the black lace and feathers of her fan. She wore no jewelry other than a diamond choker recommended by Monsieur Bonhomme, as Worth was known. Modest in appearance so as not to overwhelm the glory of the gown, the choker consisted of 540 round and princess cut diamonds on silver filigree with several large teardrops dangling from the bottom edge. Threaded through her hair was a black ribbon, studded with tiny diamonds that caught the lights and gave her an almost ethereal look.

As the designer had assured her, she was the perfect portrait of a wealthy widow – cool, poised and stunning. The looks she received – flirtatious men and envious ladies – told her the gown had presented as promised. If nothing else, its elegance served to project an image she was far from feeling.

Finally leaving the receiving line, Eve embraced her role as hostess and moved through the crowds, assured that everyone was having the time of their lives. She stopped here and there along the way to chat politely with the guests, the brides and future grooms. Despite her sophisticated presentation, internally Eve felt that her nerves were stretched nearly to their breaking point. Edinburgh Society was much more casual than London's and certainly more so than New York's Knickerbocker set. Rather than simply raising a gloved hand to be kissed or shaken, the Roper lasses had accepted hugs and kisses from their well wishers in a manner completely inappropriate by London standards or even those of New York. When coming to Eve in the reception line, some guests had seemed uncertain how to greet her, this unknown American whose cool beauty seemed to alienate the ladies and awe the young men present.

Moving farther into the room, her bustle and long train swished provocatively behind her, drawing the appreciative stares of many of the men in attendance. Looking for an escape from their tentative overtures and hesitant approaches, she joined Abby and her other long time friend, Moira MacKenzie, off to the side of the ballroom where Abby settled herself into one of the lounging chairs brought in for the older ladies in attendance.

Abby was full of praise for the event and Moira, who'd never had the chance for a Season in Edinburgh or elsewhere, was excited to have her dance card already filled for the evening. They chatted politely for a while but when Moira went off for a dance and other local ladies approached to greet Abby, Eve stole the opportunity to escape the crush through the open doors of the ballroom leading out to the terrace. Standing just outside them, she flicked open her lace fan and gazed up at the starry sky, breathing in the fresh Highlands air. The rocky hills, cliffs and the sea reminded her a bit of Newport, Rhode Island where she had spent the summers of her youth.

What would she do now? Eve wondered helplessly as she gazed out on the grounds and to the firth beyond where the moonlight twinkled off the calm waters. The past two months had been filled with purpose and promise for better days ahead. Whereas the past year had been spent in near solitude at Saint's Haven, she had enjoyed the social events and activity of her time here in Edinburgh. Despite her cocoon of solitude, Eve was certain she didn't want to hide away from the world again in Dorset. When the house party was over at the week's end, she would have to think of some task to keep herself busy so as not to fall back into the decline of the past year.

Waving her fan idly, she pondered the possibilities.

What am I doing here? Glenrothes brushed away an imaginary piece of lint from the sleeve of his tailored jacket as he finally arrived at the ballroom door. He had skipped the engagement dinner, unable to face the nearly hundred guests invited for that event, and another hour of hesitation and prevarication since had brought him late to the ball as well.

He moved to the table where men's dancing gloves were laid out though he was sure he would not dance. After taking the pair the footman held out for him, he shouldered the archway leading to the ballroom, casually slapping the gloves against his palm careful not to meet anyone's eye or encourage any of the guests to approach.

The urge to turn away was strong. It had been four or five years since Francis had ventured out socially. Most of his time was spent in seclusion at Glen Cairn or one of his other estates, building the family fortunes and rebuilding the ravaged reputation that scandal had brought upon his family name. When he did spend time in Edinburgh or London it was for business purposes only. He had found over time that he preferred the solitude and absence of any society beyond his family and friends.

It was easier, he thought, to be an earl outside the public eye. Coming out into Society was an event unheard of for him. It had been years since he last attended a ball and he wondered again how he'd managed to get talked into coming here for this occasion. He'd already congratulated his brothers in private at their estate at Glen Cairn. They would have understood if he hadn't come, but had indeed been thrilled by his appearance. This one night, he allowed, then he would return to Glen Cairn away from the guests remaining for the house party and from the speculation that usually surrounded his rare appearances.

One night to celebrate his brothers' good fortunes. Sean and Colin's marriage to Baron Teynham's daughters was a triumph, a sign that perhaps the scandal that had rocked his family was abating.

Of course, there was Jack's 'prospect' to look over as well. When he had suggested that his friend marry well and quickly to alleviate the debtors calling at his door, Francis had expected the man to choose a young heiress from Edinburgh or London, not a widow. A young lass might be molded at will into a pleasant companion or placed in the country without argument when one tired of her. A widow might be more set in her ways and a demanding tyrant when things did not follow that path. Indeed, Jack had already said the countess he had chosen was a frosty woman who did little else besides look down her nose at him.

MacKintosh had reminded his friend that he would need an heir one day from the woman, but Jack had merely chuckled and admitted it would be no burden to bed the lady despite her cold demeanor. Apparently she was possessed of enough beauty to overcome even the frostiest reception to her bed. If that alone wasn't enough, envisioning her bank account would be sufficient to get the job done.

Francis was most curious to meet her.

He surveyed the assembled crowd now wondering which lady was the one Jack had chosen so dispassionately and, as he did so, realized he recognized almost no one present beyond a couple of business associates from Edinburgh. Oh, his brothers were scattered here and there, Tam and Ian dancing with a pair of young debutantes, James flirting with a lovely widow, Dorian home from Cambridge looking as awkward as any young buck down from university, Connor teasing a smile from one of their cousins and there, his young sister Fiona dancing with a man who seemed to be holding her a tad too closely. Francis scowled fiercely in their direction wondering if he should step in. Ahh, there was Sean to lure her away from the danger.

Toward the rear of the room, Richard hovered over Abby as she reclined on a chaise, chatting with her longtime friend Moira MacKenzie. It was almost uncomfortable to watch the couple sometimes. His brother loved his young wife so deeply, Francis often feared that someday in the future he might be completely undone by her. He shook his head against the idea. Abby was Abby, he had known her the whole of her life. She hadn't a deceitful bone in her body and did love his brother deeply in return. Aye, she was truly an exception.

He continued to scan the gathered crowd searching for someone other than his siblings whom he might know and could only shake his head knowing that he had truly been out of polite society's grasp for much too long if he couldn't find a soul he knew... especially a woman. It had been ages even since he'd even flirted with an eligible lady. He was thinking that his evening might be better spent at the cards when, between the couples dancing to a lively highland fare, Francis was caught by the sight of a lady standing at the doors that led to the terrace. Though she had her back to him, a feeling of déjà vu washed over him. It was not her gown that caught him, though she was dressed richly in black with diamonds winking out of her hair. It was her stance. The tilt of her head intrigued him, the color of her hair awoke a memory of a smile, and a touch... of Paradise lost.

Eden.

Mesmerized, Francis' feet propelled him forward of their own accord so quickly he nearly stumbled gauchely. What? Was this real? Was it possible that after all this time she would walk back into his life? His head shook in unconscious denial as he approached her, slowly taking a circuitous route around the ballroom, hesitation in each step as he dreaded that she might turn and dash his wild hope. She turned her head slightly to greet one of the guests. In profile, he saw the tilt of her nose, the curve of her chin peeking from behind her lace fan. He closed his eyes as the years fell away.

His heart seemed to skip a beat as he pictured her in his mind, then set up a rapid tattoo that was nearly painful in its intensity. Surely he was mistaken? Francis looked again but the vision remained unchanged. So astounding was the joy he felt that, if he were a lesser man, he might have been brought to his knees. Instead, the earl threaded his way around to his brother, nudging him in the ribs and ignoring the ladies entirely. "Richard," he rasped hoarsely, his Scottish burr graveled with emotion. "Who is that?"

"Good evening to you as well, Francis," Richard replied dryly. "I'm sure Moira is warmed by your courteous greeting also."

Francis glanced at the red-headed fireball who had risen to greet him and managed a brotherly smile. "Aye, Moira, greetings, but you wouldn't perhaps know who that lady is?"

"Which lady?" Moira questioned glancing at Abby and then Richard who was bemused by his brother's lack of manners as Francis was usually studiously polite, in mixed company at least.

"The lady across the room..."

The trio's eyes followed Francis' mesmerized gaze across the ballroom, noting that the faces of many ladies might be seen in that direction. "Could you manage a more precise description?" Abby asked.

"The one in black," Francis murmured in rapture, his eyes never leaving that lady's face.

Richard shot Abby an amused glance, for neither had ever before seen Francis so completely unnerved and, well, as awkward as a schoolboy. Then he realized whom his brother was so focused upon. "Evelyn?"

"Aye, Evelyn," the name came out with a swift release of breath. Not his imagination then. It was truly her. "Introduce me."

Richard frowned. Surely his brother didn't know who the lovely lady was that had captured his attention? If he did, he wouldn't have such a hungry, predatory look in his eye, to be sure. "Francis, I think you should know..."

"Introduce me," the earl commanded. Richard gaped in amazement at his brother's tone and actually felt his jaw sag as Francis paused a moment to straighten his coat and cravat. He even ran a hand over his hair. Nervously? His brother, Earl Glenrothes, was actually going to try to impress a female! It was unheard of! Lord Francis MacKintosh had never put himself out to dazzle a lady in his lifetime, or anyone else for that matter. He didn't have to. Woman fawned over him and fell at his feet. Glenrothes was like a legendary Scotsman, tall and broad with arms and legs thick and muscular. His hair was black with faint touches of red and brown from the sun and his skin darkly bronzed. With his roughly sculpted features, flashing white grin and heavy-lidded green eyes, the earl often had women turn and stare unabashedly at him before they remembered themselves. True enough, he'd gathered the eyes of many upon his approach, though Richard was sure Francis hadn't taken notice.

Indeed, never in all of his years had Richard ever seen his brother stand agape at the mere sight of a woman. Never had he seen him anxious to make one's acquaintance. It was definitely comical and well worth the near black-mail it had taken to get him to come to this occasion. But Evelyn? Obviously his brother did not realize whom it was that he was so taken by. Richard shared a speaking glance with his wife, who could do little more than shrug.

"Come along then, brother," he conceded with a wry smile. "And close your mouth, won't you, old man? You look like a fish out of water!"

Abby and Moira traded a significant look.

Francis was entranced, his eyes never leaving Evelyn's face as they approached. Finally, he would be able to touch her again. Finally he would know that his dreams these past many years had been founded in reality. Twenty feet away and his heart was already pounding fiercely at the thought of taking her hand in his. He hadn't felt anything like this giddiness since... well, since he last saw her, he supposed.

As they approached, he noted the small changes here and there that maturity had wrought. The girlishness of her countenance was gone, replaced by serenity, though her skin was yet smooth and unlined. Her figure more voluptuous, but yet slim. She had gone from lovely lass to stunning lady. Tantalizing. The past eight years, he thought, had been extremely kind to her.

# Chapter 12

"But to see her was to love her,

Love but her, and love forever.

Had we never lov'd sae kindly,

Had we never lov'd sae blindly,

Never met – or never parted –

We had ne'er been brokenhearted."

Robert Burns, Ae Fond Kiss

Eve moved back inside the ballroom to chat with Abby's grandmother, who had indeed accompanied the couple up to Scotland. She knew Lady Boughton well, having accompanied Abby home on breaks from boarding school so many years before. The elderly lady was pleasant company but standing by her also gave Eve the advantage of eluding the overzealous young dandies who had begun trying to claim a dance with her. She knew lingering with the dowager wasn't going to deter them for long from begging a waltz, but she had no interest or inclination in accepting one of them. She wanted to dance, of course. She had thought of little else all afternoon, but not with one of these pups and certainly not with Jack Merrill. Abby had promised her a brother other than her own to dance with. A nice safe brother.

And so she waited patiently, appearing cool, poised and beautiful as she chatted with her companion.

But Eve was not so poised on the inside. It wasn't simply nerves either. In spite of the number of people present, she could actually feel someone looking at her. Not the curious gazes of the locals though. Something more intent and focused than that. She could feel the eyes on her as if it were an actual touch. Her insides quivered as if it were a physical caress. Eve looked covertly about the room, scanning from face to face. Someone was watching her. She was sure of it. But who?

She continued to scrutinize the room discreetly.

Her gaze drifted past a gentleman as he approached and in the next instant, her eyes snapped back and locked with a pair of intense olive green eyes. With a gasp, she tore her eyes away and closed them in disbelief before cautiously opening them once more. It couldn't be. But indeed it was! Surprised, Eve drank him in as he moved with a prowling grace toward her, noting the rough maturity of his features, the deepened lines on his face, a threading of gray here and there, the new thickness of his chest and limbs. The man was so lovely, yet completely virile and manly. Devastatingly compelling. Time had only served to transform the beautiful young lad she had met into a dazzling man who could steal more than her breath away.

Francis! What was he doing here?

She met his gaze again as he came up, saw her awareness reflected in his.

Lady Boughton stretched out her hand in welcome as he approached, and graced him with a wide, pleased smile. "Lord Glenrothes, what a pleasure and a surprise to see you here," she greeted, her voice warm. "Abby was unsure if you would attend."

"I arrived just this afternoon, Lady Boughton." His rich, deep brogue returned her greeting as his gaze returned to the vision next to the dowager. "I had not planned on staying over but a night, but perhaps there might be incentive to change my mind. May I have the pleasure?"

The lady who held his attention was still silent and staring, her eyes wide with surprise. If he had been more himself, well, he might have been amused by her lack of response. Silence and awe were not qualities he recalled in her. Shock and amazement were running rampant through him as well as... excitement? Anticipation? Nerves? He wasn't sure but it was something he had not felt in many a year. He felt like a schoolboy let go on his first flirtation. Giddy, indeed. Frankly, considering the state of his nerves, he was surprised he was functioning so well as to offer a polite bow.

"Evelyn?" Lady Boughton said, touching her arm to gain her attention.

Eve mentally shook herself from her stupor and smiled her apology. "Yes, my lady?"

"The gentlemen are trying to make their greetings."

Eve looked down at the dark head bowed over her hand for the first time, nearly forgetting that another gentleman had been present. Recalling herself with a shake of her head, she addressed him, "Hullo, Richard. Is Abby holding up all right?"

"Aye, but I believe she's about done in." Richard indicated the man at his side. "Before I take her off, may I have the pleasure of introducing Francis MacKintosh, Earl Glenrothes, Lord of Glen Cairn, laird of the clan and so on and so forth. Francis, this is Lady Evelyn Ashley-Cooper, Countess of Shaftesbury and a few lesser titles as well I'm sure."

Francis ignored his brother's badly delivered humor and took the hand the lady offered in his own gloved one, his eye's never leaving hers as he turned it over and kissed her palm. Eve's pulse leapt and raced and she knew he realized it. Nothing had changed. "The pleasure is incomparable, my lady."

"My lord," she nodded as coolly as she could though she was stunned by the boldness of his kiss. His changeable eyes were so intense they seemed to sparkle with challenge. She found her voice again, thankful to hear it emerge cool and collected. She was unaware her eyes were telling another story, warm and caressing as she stared at Francis. Her normally pale cheeks flushed with becoming color. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Richard looked from his brother's face to the countess' and knew in that instant that there was going to be trouble. Never in his life had he seen Francis so utterly entranced. He was staring at Evelyn as if he wanted to eat her up. And cool, collected Evelyn was looking as if she would hand him the spoon herself!

"Countess? You married well, my lady." Francis' emphasis on those last two murmured words caused Eve to blush and, just realizing that he had been tightly holding her hand all the while, she tried to pull it away.

Francis held on.

"I was married, my lord." The words were soft. "You find me currently, however, in a widowed state."

"And a more pleasing state I could never find you in..." he paused and grinned devilishly with raised brows. "Ahh, perhaps I can imagine a more pleasing state after all."

"Francis!" Richard admonished, wondering what had gotten into his brother. Francis had always been studiously polite in company. Never had he seen him flirt so boldly with a lady he had just met.

"My lord!" she chastised blushing hotly at his insinuation.

"Forgi' me, my lady. I don't know what devil has prompted me to tease you so." He grinned again, feeling carefree and devilish for the first time in years. He could not remember the last time he had felt so light of heart. His fair Eden! How was it possible that eight years had gone by and he still felt like a young lad with his first crush? A man of his years! He longed to tease a smile from her, to walk her through the gardens and...

Haddington approached and slapped Francis roughly on the shoulder with a laugh. "MacKintosh, it looks like you've got yourself a bonny handful there. Not planning on sharing?"

Francis turned and grabbed Jack's offered hand with a hearty shake. "Merrill, 'bout time you showed up, old man! Have you met Lady Shaftesbury?"

"I have had the honor." He grabbed her hand before she had a chance to move it from his reach. "Lady Shaftesbury," Merrill drawled, kissing her hand and winking boldly at her. "It is always my greatest pleasure."

Evelyn snatched her hand back with an iciness that bordered on the rude. "Yes, I know, Lord Merrill." Her voice was cold and she offered no further greeting. For two months he had tried to engage her in conversation and her replies always been clipped. Still, he always approached her as if she gave him the utmost pleasure. Abby had not been joking when she said he was desperate for money. Hopefully, her friend would soon dissuade her brother from his pursuit.

If Merrill was aware of her cold tone, he did not acknowledge it by word or action as he continued warmly. "I had no idea that you were acquainted with my dear friend, Glenrothes, here though."

Her eyes darted back to Francis. "You are a friend of his?" She jerked her head toward Jack. Her tone suggested such a thing might lower him in her esteem.

"You wound me, Lady Shaftesbury," Jack put in, his hand dramatically over his heart.

"But unfortunately it is not a fatal blow," she responded frostily without looking at him.

"We are friends, but I can throw him over if it would impress you," Francis confirmed, slapping Jack on the back once more.

"Et tu, MacKintosh?" Jack interjected with a more deeply wounded voice, dramatically pressing a hand to his heart. "After we grew up together and have been friends our entire lives?"

"Grew up...but..." Evelyn frowned slightly and raised a brow to Francis. "MacKintosh? Are you related to Richard?"

"You know my brother then?"

"Your brother!" Evelyn glanced over at Richard but found he had turned Jack away to greet Lady Boughton. "Imagine that," she said instead to Francis. "Well, with as many siblings as you have, I suppose it would be possible to have met one before. I went to finishing school with Abby."

"Abby has mentioned her friends from school before and always with affection. I had no idea you were one of her quartet. Are you staying in Edinburgh long, my lady?" His emphasis again on those last two words prompted a renewed warmth to her cheeks.

"I came up only to help Abby plan this ball for Sean and Col...I guess, more of your brothers, my lord," she responded with a shaky laugh. "I do not plan on staying long."

"Then I shall try to make the most of it," he whispered in a low seductive tone, but as he noticed Merrill eyeing him inquisitively, cleared his throat loudly, "I believe I would enjoy a dance. Shall we, Lady Shaftesbury?" He took her hand and bowed gallantly, playfully.

Evelyn started at the change of subject. "Shall we what?"

"Is it such a hard decision, then? I was asking, you know, rather than simply assuming. Ahh, well..." He shrugged and made as if he was turning to go. Apparently, he forgot as much as Eve that he still held her hand.

Eve tightened her grip impulsively and pulled him back. "You might attempt to phrase the question more politely, my lord."

Lord MacKintosh bowed formally still holding her now unresisting hand in his. "May I have the pleasure of a dance, my lady?"

Do I dare? A dance with one of Richard's nonthreatening younger brothers was one thing but to meet Francis on the dance floor was bound to be fraught with emotion that Eve was uncertain she was ready to face. Years ago, one brief moment with this incredible man had set her entire world abuzz. It had taken the whole of her willpower and strength to push him from her heart so that she might face marriage with William without the specter of the past in her mind and soul. Eve met Francis' dark gaze and shivered at the force of the heat and promise she read there. Danger, it said. There was no safe, structured haven with him. Only uncertainty that she wasn't sure she could handle.

Run away, far away, her mind yelled.

But then Eve noticed Haddington coming back in their direction and made the quick decision that a moment of uncertainty trumped a night of unpleasantness. She gave Francis a warm smile and waved her fan flirtatiously. "A waltz? With you?"

Glenrothes smiled fully, revealing deep masculine dimples as if he had actually heard the thoughts race through her mind and tugged her hand playfully. "Honor me, my lady?"

Eve simply could not refuse a smile like that, no matter what propriety said. No matter what peril lay ahead. After all, she had conceded that she would dance with one of Richard's brothers. Though in her mind that brother was an unassuming youth, not a danger to her equilibrium. "Very well, I suppose that I might have just one dance," she conceded and, snapping her fan closed, took his arm as he led her out onto the dance floor, leaving Haddington staring after them with a puzzled frown.

Once on the floor, she curtsied deeply as he bowed in return. Assuming a most respectable stance, he proceeded to whirl her about the room. A tall woman herself, it was unusual for Eve to have to tilt her head back to see her partner's face. Normally she met most men eye to eye, but she liked that he could make her feel petite and fragile as he once did. The earl waltzed in gracefully long strides and sweeping turns that made her hold on tightly. His eyes sparkled as he pulled her closer. Eyes from all about watched as the tall, graceful couple moved together about the room and voices commented about what a dashing couple they made.

# Chapter 13

Eve stared up into the olive green eyes that had haunted her for almost eight years and knew without a moment of deeper reflection that nothing had changed. Francis had enthralled and captivated her from the instant she had met him and, in just a few moments, he had done it again. She had been lost to him then.

She was lost again now.

Lost in the man from the moment they had touched. It was like magic to feel the heat of his hand entwined with hers. That same electricity that had enthralled her as a young woman was still there. All of it made her feel like his 'Eden' once more, just a girl amid her first crush. The years fell away and it was as though they were standing in his grandmother's garden again. Helpless to resist the pull that had drawn them to one another years ago. Helpless to fight the web that sought to surround them.

The humor faded from his eyes and a deep awareness overtook them both. Eve gave up trying to look away from him and stared into his compelling eyes. Eyes she had never forgotten, that had haunted her fantasies for so long. They held her spellbound, promising her the world and more with each look. Such warmth was in his eyes! She had no idea that her own grass-green eyes were returning that heat with equal measure.

Nor were either of them aware that their bodies were moving closer and closer to each other with each turn in their unconscious need to be as one. They moved well past the bounds of propriety. Francis pulled her closer to him until there was a mere breath separating them. Then not even that. Her breast first brushed, then pressed, against his chest, her belly met the hard plains of his stomach.

The heat of his hand burned through her layers of clothes, warming her even more. His thigh slipped deeply between her legs as they turned and as they turned again, once more sending a sinful heat through Eve's core. Her left hand dropped the long train of her gown and fell to his forearm. She stared up at him as their dance slowed and eventually stopped, leaving them motionless in the middle of the dance floor, pressed to one another in a near embrace.

Francis had forgotten where he was. He only knew whom he was with. Reality seemed far away. Their bodies touched and meshed from chest to thigh as his arm snaked around her waist. His head began to lower. Hers fell back to welcome him...

A murmur rose among the crowd.

"Francis!" The pair jumped apart to face Richard in surprise though perhaps the younger man's was even greater. "I think it might be a good idea if I cut in?"

Shocked, Eve jumped back from Francis' embrace her face flushed with color. She was not merely embarrassed; she was horrified as she looked with some astonishment at all the silent, scandalized faces about her. Years of rigid instruction on the proper behavior of ladies descended upon her. Years of having William correct her behaviors. Years of reprimand and castigation. And what had she done? What had she been thinking? "I'm very sorry!" she whispered and turned to flee.

Francis caught her before she could run away rashly, assuming a flight that might stir further gossip. "Come, lass, I think a stroll on the terrace might do us a bit of good. Richard, if you will excuse us?"

Reluctantly, Richard stepped aside and, nodding her consent, Eve took Francis' offered arm as they left the ballroom through nearby doors. She kept her head held high and regal as if nothing untoward had happened, but on the inside she was aghast by her behavior. "I am so mortified. I cannot imagine what everyone is saying!"

"They were probably thinking, 'Isn't that the same American girl we could hear cursing her way up Half Moon Street so many years ago?'" The corner of his mouth jerked up in an oh-so familiar grin that brought a physical ache to her chest.

Trying to push aside her embarrassment as such a happy memory descended, Eve smiled shyly up at him. "There was a moment I had thought you might not have remembered me, my lord."

"Not remembered you? How can you say that?" his surprise was evident as his brows rose.

"It was just a couple moments almost eight years ago after all. Less than an hour all told," she reminded. In all the years since their meeting, when Eve had thought of Francis – those fantastical moments when they met and she had fallen so quickly, easily in love – it had never occurred to her, despite his assurance at the time, that his feelings had been as engaged as hers. It warmed her heart that he had not only remembered their meeting, but did so fondly.

"Yet those moments remain in my memory as some of the happiest I have known," he admitted, softly squeezing her hand.

"They do?" Those words bespoke more than mere fondness, Eve thought as she glanced up at the face that had haunted, yet sustained her through all the years of her marriage. A ghostly reminder of what might have been. His dark eyes promised that the attraction was not just a memory either. The allure she felt for him was almost fairy tale-like in its blissful power, intensified by the knowledge that one was desired in return. In her heart, she was giddy as a princess when awoken by her prince after a long slumber. And yet, she could not give herself over entirely to the moment. Curious looks from others on the terrace prompted the ingrained propriety to reassert itself. Against the girlish yearnings of her heart, Eve stepped away, regaining a more respectable distance. The movement brought a puzzled frown to his face.

"What is the matter, Eden?"

"You should not address me so familiarly, my lord."

"I have addressed you that way in my mind countless times." He closed the distance between them once more and reached out for her hands. "You once called me Francis."

"That was a long time ago. Things changed after that day. You should have told me you were married. I would never have acted so rashly." The reproach was clear in her voice as she tried to withdraw her hands and his brow puckered in confusion at her change from all that was warmth to this chilly shell.

"Were you angry with me?" he asked.

"Surprisingly, no," she answered after a moment's reflection. "I never thought of that moment with anger, just upset. Why didn't you say something that night in the garden?"

"I had forgotten."

"You had forgotten you were married?" A brow rose coolly in disbelief.

"In a sense, I did." He reached again for her hands but she folded them tightly before her. With a sigh, he rested his hands on the balustrade. "I had already been married for seven years when we met, Eden. I wed when I was just a lad of eighteen. My father was ill, dying, and wanted to make sure our, and I mean the earldom's, future was secure before he passed. My relationship with my wife left much to be desired and by that time we lived largely apart. So, aye, occasionally I forgot I was married." He reached up and caressed her cheek, pleased that she didn't pull away, enjoying the blush that followed his touch. "And when you came along and took my breath away as you did, I could think of nothing else."

"I took your breath away?" she sighed wistfully, leaning unconsciously into his hand overwhelmed by his presence and his confession. The light caress of his fingers sent shivers of longing down her spine.

"Sweet Paradise," he whispered roughly cupping her face in both hands, "you still do. When I saw you tonight, it was as though the years had fallen away, as if we were back in my grandmother's garden. The magic... the way you stir me..." his whispered words melted into feather-light kisses on her forehead and cheeks that had Eve's head spinning as pleasure and desire washing over her.

Eve fought to retain her composure though her willpower faltered at his proximity and her stomach trembled at his words. Was she going mad? She was allowing a gentleman to nearly kiss her in the presence of others! She wasn't a young girl any longer to act so foolishly. Her heart quivered, wavering between desire and control. The control won and her voice once again regained its polite tone as she managed to draw away. "And you, my lord? What happened in your life since we met?"

Francis shifted, uncomfortably reluctant to bring up his scandalous past. "Why, I mourned the loss of one sweet but sassy lass whom I had met so long ago." Gently he stroked her cheek once more and gazed down into the eyes that had lingered in his mind for the past many years. "Where has she gone, Eden? You are here in front of me, but the lass who was so full of vinegar seems to be missing."

"That was a long time ago, my lord." That lass was inside her, banging on the door to be released from the prison of manners and form in which William had locked her. She wanted to beg for his help, to show him that she was still there, but only whispered hollowly, "People grow up. They change."

"I think she is in there," he murmured into her ear. "And no more 'my lords', please. I long to hear my name from your lips just as you said it not an hour past. Say my name, Eden, say it."

Eve savored the feel of his thumbs as they caressed her cheeks. Desire flowed through her just as it had before. To say aloud that which she hadn't dared in years. "Francis," the name came out with a fluttering sigh. "Oh, Francis..."

"Ahh, you still feel it, too, don't you?" his lips brushed her temple as he breathed in the scent of her.

"My Lord, it is a powerful thing..." she admitted. She cleared her throat and took a step back trying to distance herself from him. She had to stop this! Apparently if her guard slipped for even a moment, she fell into his arms like the veriest street walker. Like a silly child! Where was her cloak of propriety now? "And are you widowed now as well?" she asked absently as she tried to regain her composure.

"No, but –"

Reality splashed upon Eve bringing her to her senses. She jerked herself back from him realizing the implications of what he was saying. Was he trying again, as he had years before, to lure her into an affair, a liaison that held no respect? "No? You are not widowed?"

"No, Eden, it is not what you think..."

Without a second's consideration, Eve's hand shot out and slapped him across the face.

They stared at each other in stunned silence. Eve's body vibrated with anger and humiliation and shock at her audaciousness. But how dare he? How dare he do this to her again! He was a married man! How dare he play on her feelings like this? "Married? Still? And this is how you act?"

"I'm not, Eden," he started to explain, but she cut him off.

"I guess since I am no longer a young debutante, you see no problems with acting as you did eight years ago? Now that I am a widow, it is alright?" she accused in a trembling whisper. Emotion rolled through her and spilled through her social mask. Her eyes were aflame with anger and hurt.

"I would never treat you so, Eden. I realize it is nonsensical to you, but you are my single ray of sunlight these past years," he retorted. Watching her anger slip away to confusion, he held out a hand. "If you would allow me to explain, I will. While I am not a widower, I am divorced from my former wife."

"I am a respectable woman, not a..." she floundered to a halt as his words sunk in. "What?"

"I am not a married man any longer," he clarified. If his cheek hadn't burned with the strength of her blow, Francis might have felt the urge to laugh at the purely confounded expression on her face. "I am saying that you needn't think so ill of me, Eden. I might be awash with scandal but not the rogue you apparently think me. I am a single man."

Eve's mind blanked. "Oh." A replay of the last few moments flashed through her mind and Eve stepped back in horror covering her mouth with both hands. She had struck an earl in public as if he were a cad, an adulterer, when he was naught but innocent of her accusations. "Oh, Francis! I am so sorry!" She reached up to cup the cheek that she had injured. "I don't have any idea what has come over me this evening. It's not like me to react with such emotion. To act without thought. To feel so..."

"Ahem." The sound of a throat being cleared jerked them apart. His brother, James, stood at the door with his arms crossed over his chest. "Could I speak with you a moment, brother?"

"Not now, Jamie," Francis ground out, taking Eve's hand in his own and drawing her closer to his side.

"I should think now is a perfect time," he drawled in return. "Especially if you plan to rain a scandal on the head of dear Lady Shaftesbury. Just being seen with you..."

Suddenly, Eve was able to focus again on the faces around her. Though others on the terrace were far enough away that her words to Francis could not be overheard, they were the center attraction of them all. Given the way some were whispering behind their hands, they were the subject of their conversation. The scene they were creating...! Cozied together one moment, her striking him the next! What would William have done if he could have seen her behave this way? Probably locked her in the cellar again or delivered one of his other punishments he employed to keep her 'in line'. She was appalled to have them all staring at her. She shuddered in humiliation and horror.

Drawing her most icy demeanor around her like a cloak, Eve disappeared and the countess took her place with the most reserved and restrained manner. "I believe the excitement of the evening has taken its toll," nodding her head formally to Francis and then James. "Gentlemen, please excuse me. I believe I will retire." Head high, she swept through the doors and across the ballroom, nodding coolly as she passed through not stopping along the way.

James stopped Francis with a hand as he started to follow her.

"What are you doing, Francis?"

"I was just..." he shook his head. Indeed, he really had no idea what he was doing. Eve was correct. She was a respectable woman and yet he thought that just because of their attraction, she should flout convention and allow a public romance between them? Scandal over his divorce was still thick in Society. Any woman to whom he paid marked attention would become attached in association. Though Eve might be unaware, his brothers all knew that it would take a residence upon hell's frozen plains before he would take another wife. All he was prepared to offer any woman was the role of lover and protector. Clearly, Eve was not a woman to accept the part of mistress. But he could not deny their attraction either. It was terrible to think that the only positive moments of his marriage were with a woman other than his wife, but it was true.

The buoyancy his heart had taken on again in just the past hour was unlike anything Francis had felt since he had met his Eden all those years before. He didn't know what it was about her, but she gave him hope. Aye, hope that life might be worth rejoining again. Hope of happier days.

When his eldest brother remained silent, James spoke up. "While it is good to see you taking an interest in the ladies again, brother, I don't believe that Lady Shaftesbury is the step you should be considering." James watched the widow wend her way through the crowd and out of sight, before turning back to his eldest brother. "Don't get me wrong, old man, I am all for pursuing a merry widow for sport myself, but Lady Shaftesbury is not that type. You just met her, so I want to make you aware. I've had the opportunity to get to know her these past several weeks, most of us have. I assure you, she is as respectable a woman as I have ever known and one of Abby's dearest friends. Plus, I rather like her, so stay away from her."

"Ahh, I am afraid that may be a problem." Francis glanced toward the door again. The yearning to follow was strong. His brothers did not know that Evelyn had disturbed his dreams for years. That he knew her soul, if not her body. In those moments with her, it was as if every lesson that marriage had taught him about women fell away. There was no bitterness. There was no anger or mistrust. There was only a place unlike any other. There was just his Eden, his Paradise.

How he had been fooling himself that morning when Abby had chastised him! Francis had always known that there was an exception to his views on womanhood. Not just Abby herself, but Eden. How could he have forgotten? Shaking his head, he left the ball through the garden.

He realized with a laugh that Abby might win her wager after all.

Once out of sight of the ballroom and any of the guests, Eve fled up the stairs, determined to reach her rooms before emotion overcame her. Alas, it was not to be. In her haste, she came up behind Richard and Abby who were also making their way to their rooms.

Abby took one look at her face and stopped. "Why, Evie, whatever is the matter?" she asked with concern.

Instantly, Eve pulled back and plastered her most polite smile on her face. "It's merely been a trying time these past weeks. I thought I might just retire early to..."

"Alright, my friend, give over and tell me what is going on." Abygail gave her husband a significant look and with a shrug, he took himself off. "Out with it now. I've heard nothing from you since I came down to England except this polite chit-chat of yours."

"I'm uncertain what you mean," Eve said evasively, refusing to meet Abby's eyes.

"Uncertain?" Abby returned with raised brows. "Uncertain? I've never heard you talk like this! We are friends! Aren't we?"

"Of course, we are!"

"Didn't the four of us stay up nights at Folkestone under the covers whispering our deepest secrets to one another?"

"We did. I apologize. It has simply been a most trying day."

"Trying day? Again with that?" Abby repeated with raised brows and pointed to Eve's bedchamber door. "In there, right now! I've had enough of this."

"Abby, I don't –" Eve protested weakly.

"Now!" she repeated with a stomp of her foot.

Defeated by the force of Abby's will, Eve led the way into her rooms and to a pair of chairs set before the fire. Easing herself down into one, she stared into the fire while her friend took the other. "Evelyn Preston, look at me!"

Eve forced her eyes to meet those of one of her dearest friend's when, to her horror, she felt them well with tears and her chin wobble.

Abby was instantly all sympathy as she pulled Eve into her arms. "Oh, Evie! What is it? I had forgotten this was the anniversary of when you learned of Shaftesbury's death. Do you mourn him so much?"

Swallowing a watery chuckle that became a sob, Evelyn slid to the floor and lay her head down on Abby's lap as Abby stroked her hair and rocked her much like she did her own child. Overcome by emotion, Evelyn finally let the tears fall freely. When the flow seemed to stem at last, Abby commanded in her soft voice, "Tell me."

"It was not at all what I had imagined, do you know that? When we married, I had such hopes during our first year of marriage. I thought what a marvelous couple we would be. What wonderful conversations we would have! What grand places we would see together.

"But we were not a couple. 'We' were Shaftesbury and his favorite possession. It was horrible being his puppet. Being the perfect countess, the perfect hostess. Being controlled by force..."

"Evie!" Abby exclaimed. "Never say he beat you!"

"Not beaten," she denied, "but beaten down, nonetheless. But strangely, I was never afraid, just locked into a life from which I had no avenue of escape. He molded me into the image he wanted."

Evelyn closed her eyes again as the longing for freedom rolled through her. I am trapped, William, she had told him that day before he had left. Alone. I have nothing here... with you.

"He actually offered to buy me a pet to make my misery more palatable," Eve confessed with a watery chuckle. "As if that would make everything better! He never understood that I could not live with being controlled and owned. Or he never cared. I believe that was actually the case."

Abby stroked her hair. "You poor girl. We all assumed you were so happy. I never thought he might treat you so badly."

"I told him that last day that I wanted out, that I wanted a divorce and that Da had agreed to support me in obtaining it," Eve admitted it aloud as she had not dared to tell another. Not even Kitty.

"Well, good for you then! What did he say?"

"He said no, of course." Eve shrugged, emitting a shaky sigh as she moved to return to her own chair. "He said he controlled me, that it was his right under the law of the Queen and my country as well. What I wanted had no bearing."

"The devil, you say!" Abby exclaimed appalled that any man would dare to make such a statement. This was the 19th century after all, not the middle ages! "The nerve of the man!"

"You know, I think that was the first time I had ever seen him angry. Even when he would mete out his 'punishments' it was always without anger. He was always so stoic, so cold. In that moment, I think I hated him most," Eve confessed. "And for a moment I wished he were dead... and then he was."

"Well now you are free to do as you wish," Abby started, but stopped when Eve shook her head.

"But I can't be, Abby." The confessions continued to flow with appalling truthfulness. "I want to, so very much! But I am nothing of myself any longer, only what he has made me to be. I have tried and tried to find myself, to be myself again, but... well, you saw it. You noticed in less than five minutes, months ago. I know you did! This is what I am now."

"You are not lost, Eve," her friend insisted. "Look at you right now! You are in there. You will find your way."

"You are one of my dearest friends, Abby, and still, even with you, it is hard to overcome." Eve took a deep, shaky breath. "Deep inside, I am afraid I will never find my way back to the person I was. Even tonight when..." Eve swallowed the lump that formed in her throat.

"It is difficult, I'm sure to start up in Society again..."

"No, it's not that...I mean, it is, but it isn't." Eve gulped again struggling to find a way to explain. "Francis..."

"I swear to you, Eve, I have never seen the earl act as such a rogue as he did tonight!" Abby declared. "And I will have words with him, I assure you, about starting thus with one of my dearest friends."

Evelyn marveled that this tiny woman could project a severity that could actually intimidate a person to their core. She had often been likened to an angel in appearance, yet she could shake you to your soul with a single look. It made Eve fear for Francis. "I've met him before, Abby."

Taken aback, Abby's face folded into confusion. "But when? How is that possible? Why, Francis hasn't even left Scotland in years. Not since Fiona made him..."

"Take her to visit Lady Hyde in London," Eve finished with a nod. "I met him just before I was betrothed to William."

"He's the one," Abby whispered, awed by the twists and turns of fate. "Yes? The one that you wrote to me about?" Eve nodded. "But, Evie, this is wonderful! Isn't it? You can begin again. You're a widow and Francis is free now as well!"

A flare of warmth shot through Eve's heart before it fizzled away and she shook her head. "I – I can't, Abby. I'm not the same person. Once he knows that, he will be disappointed in me."

"Nonsense!"

"Besides, I could never have an affair," Eve shuddered, thinking of the repercussions of crossing such a boundary. "And I would never want to marry again, not after the hell I knew of marriage."

Neither would Francis, Abby conceded to herself. But the thought took root, But what if they did? What if this was their second chance at happiness? This is what she had felt coming even months before, when she had wagered fifty pounds on Francis and her brother both that they would fall to a woman. Perhaps there was a chance. "Why not just see what happens?" she suggested, holding up a hand to stem Eve's protest. "The decision is yours, of course, but what is the harm in spending time in his company? There was a moment downstairs when both of you looked happier than I can ever remember. Did you know that? Everyone saw it... no, not in a scandalous way. I saw two people who had suffered much and finally found joy in one another. I was glad for you in that moment and I know that Francis' family felt the same. Enjoy one another, Eve. Yes? And perhaps you will see the old you peeking out from time to time."

"I could not encourage him into thinking that I might..."

"Of course not! I am not saying that you should lead him into thinking the impossible, but merely enjoy his company as he may enjoy yours. Whatever you choose, I will always be here to support you."

"Oh, Abby, I have missed my friends so much!" Eve reached over and embraced her friend. "Thank you for this. For being such a dear."

Abby softened then and returned the embrace. "Oh, my darling friend, you will get through this. I promise. You have many friends."

"No, I have you, my family and a houseful of other people to entertain this weekend, each one believing that William and I were a great romance, everyone viewing me as a tragic widow."

"It is a common assumption that anyone widowed was deeply in love with their spouse. Especially when they made such a handsome, fairytale couple as you and William did." Abby reflected for a moment on all the marriages she had been witness to in her life, three of her father's alone. "No one knows any more than that reflection, though most here probably just see you as elegant and aloof rather than tragic. It might help if you were to lay off your mourning attire."

"It wouldn't be proper." Eve shook her head, but added before Abby might interrupt, "Besides, I have nothing else here. Wearing nothing at all is most definitely not a step I am ready to take."

Abby joined in her light laughter.

"I am sorry that William is dead," Evelyn insisted uncertain whether she was being truthful with herself. "But he treated me so poorly and I wasn't more than a possession to him and for that I just can't be sad that he's gone. And worse, I still feel locked up in the mental prison of the behaviors he forced on me. More than anything, I want to find my former self and let her free again."

"You will find her, dear, I know you will."

"Is everything all right, my love?" Richard asked of his wife when she finally returned to their room.

Abby slipped into his embrace and leaned her head against his chest. "I hope so." She explained to him briefly in generalities out of respect for her friend and made mention of Eve and Francis' previous meeting.

"I am glad to know that this wasn't a complete aberration of my brother's normal good behavior." Richard shook his head. "I had thought for a moment he had completely lost his head."

"He might have, and Eve may have as well." Abby tilted back her head and smiled up at her husband. She had thought only this afternoon that something was about to happen and she had been right. Francis had it within his grasp now to overcome the legacy left by his marriage, to find love such as she shared with her Richard. For both him and Eve, it was as if a gift was being held out for them to embrace or deny. A gift which had the power to change both their lives for the better if they had the courage to put their respective pasts aside and reach out for it.

If they had the guts, she might win her bet and receive a prize better than a mere fifty pounds. "It is going to be an interesting week's end, I think!"

# Chapter 14

"Good morning, MacKintosh, old chap. Where did you get off to so early last evening?" Jack greeted Francis as he entered the private family breakfast room.

The other guests staying for the house party were gathered in the main dining room, but Francis had no interest in any of the guests save one. After ascertaining that Eve had been absent from that public room, he had chosen to escape to this smaller area to break his fast in peace. Abby had informed him that the whole house was abuzz with gossip about the dance he had shared with Eve and the scene that had followed on the terrace. So far the story put him in the wrong, for which he was grateful. Such gossip attached to Eve would be intolerable.

"Good morning, Merrill. Come in and sit..."

Francis paused in greeting Jack as his butler, Godfrey, passed by the door carrying a large floral bouquet. In fact, it looked very similar to the one he had sent one of the footmen all the way into Edinburgh to procure for Eve early this morning. "Godfrey," he called. "What are you doing with those?"

The aged butler moved to the doorway holding the vase awkwardly at an arm's length out in front of him. "These flowers have been returned, my lord."

"Returned?" Francis echoed.

"Yes, my lord, the lady intended has returned the bouquet," the butler rephrased stiffly.

"She what!?"

"The flowers were returned by Lady Shaftesbury, my lord," the now uncomfortable butler repeated for the third time to the disbelieving lord.

"She sent them back?" Jack echoed then snorted with laughter. "I cannot say I am surprised. I swear to you, that Lady Shaftesbury is cold as ice. Didn't I tell you?"

"Evelyn cold? No, my friend," Francis shook his head as a myriad of memories flowed through his mind. "Cold, she is not." He leaned back in his chair and hooked his hands together behind his head looking very satisfied with himself. "If you only knew, Merrill. There is fire in that woman. Spit and fire."

Jack shook his head in surprise. Spit and fire in the countess? He had seen nothing in two long months of courtship that could be even liberally interpreted as warmth. She was politely distant from others, frosty to him. He had heard rumors that she had slapped another gentleman the previous evening as well. He eyed his friend suspiciously. Francis? "Well, she obviously doesn't want your attention." Jack nodded to the flowers. Any more than she wants mine, he thought. "You should stay away from her, you know."

"I know, I know. Everyone in this family has gone out of their way this morning to tell me so, and I shall resolve to do so." The notion was a logical one. His Eden certainly wasn't the type for a romantic lovers' tryst. But could he truly let her go? Knowing that his chance, maybe his only chance, at happiness was at stake? Such a thought was as optimistic as any he had ever had in his life. Indeed, was he truly thinking that one woman – a woman! – might actually be his opportunity at a happy life? His wife had given him a taste of marriage that should have soured him completely, and had for many a year. Eden had been the only one who had ever buoyed Francis with this feeling of optimism. Of anticipation. He hated to give it up.

Jack filled a plate of eggs and haggis and sat down again at the table. "Since you have now met my prospect, tell me what you think."

Francis tore his thoughts away from Eden and frowned in confusion. "But I haven't met the countess yet. Is she here?"

"Amusing, old man, one might almost think you didn't know who she was." Jack glared mockingly at his friend. "I've been trying to break through her ice for weeks and yet there you were almost kissing her on the dance floor just moments after meeting her."

Francis shook his head and looked apprehensively at his friend. "You mean... ?"

"Aye, that's what I mean."

"She is your heiress? She is the countess?" Francis was not pleased. In fact, the emotion roiling through him could only be defined as jealousy. He had never felt it before, but knew it immediately from the sour taste it left in his mouth. The very thought of Eve in the arms of another, in the bed of another, set his very blood afire. "My Eden is your countess?"

"You really didn't know?" The realization brought a harsh laugh to Jack's lips. "Lady Evelyn Ashley-Cooper," Jack nodded. "Aye, the Countess of Shaftesbury. MacKintosh, I told you all about her," he reminded. His raised brows indicated a reminder that Francis was to help him reel the heiress in.

"I know you did, but..." The stories Jack had told him about the countess that had been amusing a day before now raised his ire. To think he had encouraged Jack in this pursuit! That Jack might actually wed with his Eden! Envy and anger rolled through Francis, though he managed to bite out calmly, "I did not know she was the one."

"Given your flirtation just moments after meeting her, I gathered that you were unaware, but I would have thought Richard might have told you." Jack munched on his haggis and sent another baleful glare at his lifelong friend. "I must say, it was most disconcerting to see you whisking her off to the dance floor when I haven't been able to achieve so much as a walk through the park with her. How did you do it?"

"I did not just meet her last night, Jack."

"You haven't been to town since she's been here," Haddington pointed out. "What other opportunity might you have had?"

"I met her in London many years ago." Francis stared off in remembrance of the bonny lass she had been. A lass who had grown into an extraordinary woman. "When I was visiting my grandmother. She was just a young lass then, so full of vinegar."

"Lady Shaftesbury? Full of vinegar?" Jack snorted into his coffee. "I cannot even imagine! Seems time has changed her."

"It seems it has."

"You like her well enough then, yes?" Haddington returned to the topic at hand. "I assume you approve of the match then?"

"What!?" His mind rebelled against the thought. Life had gotten in their way once before. How could he allow it to do so again? Still, how could he stop her from her own potential of happiness? He could not... should not! But the word emerged harshly from his lips, "Nay!"

"You don't think she'd make a good choice for a wife?"

She'd make the best choice possible if one had to marry, but Francis couldn't bear the thought of her wedding Jack. Just the thought that he had finally found her again and Jack wanted to take her away...! Revulsion burned in his gut at the very idea. He refused to stand back and allow that to happen. "Ye cannae hav' her!"

Jack was amused by his friend's outburst. He spoke as if Jack meant to steal his prize mare. "Truly?" Merrill crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair with an amused chuckle. "And what is it you mean to do wi' her, if I may be so bold as to ask? Marry her yourself?"

Francis could not stop the appalled grimace that soured his expression.

"You see my point, do you not? Lady Shaftesbury certainly does not appear to be mistress material, you know." Jack pointed out needlessly the very thought that Francis had been pondering all night.

"Aye, I know." MacKintosh looked deeply wounded. He couldn't have her, not in any way that would be fair to her. Not in any way that could be considered respectable, but still he could not give her over to his friend either; could not bear to see her in the arms of another. Images flowed through his imagination that nearly made him sick. He could not have it happen! "You willnae take her, will you?"

"Nay. If it displeases you so, the thought of my pursuing her." Years of friendship prompted Jack to offer, however with the countess' cold and unreceptive demeanor, he'd be better off to continue his search elsewhere. Time was running out for him and he felt it might take years to convince the countess to accept his suit. He could afford to appear magnanimous. "If you wish, I will look elsewhere for a wife."

"Aye, I wish... I wish..." Francis knew he should leave Eve be, but could he really stay away? No. He knew he could not. He would offer her his friendship, he decided. If he could not have her in his bed, he might still at least have the pleasure of her company. The years had changed her greatly, but Francis was certain the lass he had known so briefly was still there.

Those same years had been unkind to him. They had changed him from a jovial youth to an embittered man. He felt as if he hadn't laughed in years. Yet, just being in her company for moments had raised his spirits to a level they had not achieved in quite some time. In just the last twelve hours, Francis had felt the greatest of emotions. Emotions he had thought himself incapable of.

He was almost certain now that Eve was the only one who could save him from the bitterness that was starting to rule and ruin his life.

# Chapter 15

Later that morning, Evelyn strolled arm in arm through the gardens with her friend, Moira MacKenzie, the final member of the quartet who had also attended boarding school with Evelyn, Kitty and Abby. As she listened with half an ear as her chum gushed about the ball and her dance partners of the previous evening, Eve couldn't help but chronicle her own evening.

Francis MacKintosh! The name had plagued her all night.

Eve was yet wallowing in the humiliation of her behavior. Behavior that was well beyond her norm, despite Abby's calming conversation. She hadn't even been able to recognize herself in that series of rash behaviors. She had gotten so carried away last night. She had almost kissed him in public! She had actually slapped him in public! It was horrifying.

She hadn't even let him explain that he was divorced! A divorce was scandalous, of course. It surprised her that she hadn't heard anything about this before. Divorce at their level of society usually brought repercussions through an entire family and yet Sean and Colin were marrying very well and the ball had been well attended. Eve considered it surprising that the MacKintosh family had not become social pariahs. She had been willing to face a life of solitude to gain her freedom from William, yet perhaps in Scotland a divorce didn't necessarily bring such a stigma. Or at least not to the husband.

However, if she were being truthful, she would admit the fault for her humiliation was her own. It had taken all her determination to don her cloak of cold civility and face everyone that morning, to ignore the gossip. Francis had not helped at all, sending that ridiculously large bouquet with his apologies for his lack of gallantry the night before.

His lack? What about hers? Eve could not fathom what had possessed her. It was as though something had been pulling her toward him. Silly, but true. She should never have danced with him. She was a respectable widow; proper and mannerly. Eve was starting to think that it was safer that way.

She was trying desperately not to dwell on the turmoil that the night's embarrassment had brought and, as a distraction from the earl and a night of restless sleep, Moira was a miracle worker. This week's end house party the MacKintoshs were hosting in the days following the ball was the first time they had seen one another in nearly nine years and they were anxious to catch up.

Moira was yet unwed, living in her family home, an ancient keep called Old Klebreck Tower near Loch Carron in the remote highlands of Scotland. Her father, Jamie MacKenzie, was the Earl of Seaforth and her maternal grandfather Neill Mercea, the 22nd Marquis of Landsdowne. One of the oldest titles in the land. As their only heir since the death of her brother, Moira was under constant pressure to wed and produce a future heir for the combined fortune that would fall to her.

Other than that single responsibility, Moira was, by her own admission, extremely spoiled, even more so than Evelyn and Kitty had ever been living under the rule of New York Society. In her six and twenty years, 'no' was a word Moira rarely heard. She was headstrong and a bit temperamental, but vivacious and so lovely with her vivid auburn locks and voluptuous figure that she attracted attention whenever she managed to get into a social atmosphere. Life, she claimed, with two old men did not lead to many outings beyond the local physician. So, hereto, was Moira without chaperone other than her great-aunt Edith who napped constantly. It gave them much opportunity to catch up with one another.

Moira was relating to her in a humorous fashion her most recent attempts to find a husband of whom her father and grandfather would approve. "His name is Philip Ahearn, he is the nephew of the bishop of Carron. I daresay he is the first eligible bachelor to make his way to our area in quite some time." She squeezed Evelyn's arm and leaned over to confide, "When new gentlemen are met so rarely, I suppose I cannot be too choosy. Unfortunately, Papa and Pops have not yet had that same realization. I haven't been to Edinburgh in years, much less to London. I have no idea how I am to make an acceptable match under these circumstances!"

"Perhaps I could persuade them to let me sponsor you for a Season in London," Evelyn offered. "I am sure you could make a good match there. And I would love to have you stay with me. It would be nice to have someone to talk to again."

Moira grinned in her direction. "I think it would be like old times, do you not?"

"It would," she replied returning the smile. "I think I shall write to your father this very afternoon and ask him if you can return to Edinburgh with me at the end of the party."

"Brilliant!" Moira agreed. "We will have ever so much fun together, Evie! I do so want to get married. It's time I move on..."

"Ladies!" Evelyn and Moira turned to see Glenrothes striding toward them, the morning sun shining on his dark, uncovered hair. Although his tie was neatly done, he was coatless and had left his waistcoat unbuttoned on the chilly April morning. His white shirt stood in stark contrast to his dark complexion and emphasized the width of his shoulders, his riding pants and boots hugging his muscular legs. Although completely taken aback by his utter lack of manner and dress, Evelyn was more undone by the raw masculinity she beheld. She caught her breath at the sight of him.

Apparently she was not the only one overcome.

"My Lord, those MacKintosh lads are divine looking," Moira sighed under her breath. "Ach! But isn't that a gorgeous man?"

Evelyn cut her friend a sharp glance, not at all appreciative of Moira's reaction. Not because it was so close to her own or unwarranted, but because... well, she wasn't sure why, but she just didn't like it. "He's mine," she whispered forcibly.

Moira raised a brow at her friend's tone. "I'd be jealous too if he were mine."

"He's not mine," Evelyn returned harshly, embarrassed that her thought had emerged vocally. "Oh! Stop it!"

Her discomfiture caused her to snap coldly at the earl as he stopped before them. "My lord, I'm sure that even in Scotland the same rules of etiquette apply as in other civilized areas."

"What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion. When he had seen the ladies out walking through the windows of his breakfast room, Francis had decided to take the first steps toward friendship with his Eden by joining them on their walk. An apology was in order and he had meant to deliver it first, but when faced with her pique, he couldn't help but return to the lightness that her snapping eyes provoked in his soul.

"A gentleman never approaches a lady to converse unless she first indicates that she desires his presence," she recited as if quoting from one of the dozens of etiquette books she'd read in her life. "And he certainly does not do so in a state of undress."

"Undress?" Francis grinned without shame, spreading his arms wide to peruse his attire dramatically before looking back up at her, aware that her eyes had followed his and were now filled with a sensual awareness that had him rethinking his decision to bend to friendship. "Aye, I know that, Lady Shaftesbury. However, seeing as this is an informal setting of family and friends at a country home, I thought allowances could be made."

"Proper behavior dictates that..."

"And it is my own house, of course. Evelyn, my lass," Francis interrupted – another breach of etiquette, of course, to interrupt a lady – and moved between the two ladies, offering an arm to each. "Do you actually know every rule there is?"

"There are behaviors, my lord, that..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." He grinned down at Moira who had readily taken his offered arm. "And you, brat, how are you today?"

Moira returned his smile with a sunny one of her own and fairly batted her eyelashes at him. "I'm very well, my lord. And you?"

"Call me Francis, darlin'." He grinned devilishly at Evelyn with a wink, enjoying her gasp of surprise tremendously. He was determined to tease her from her prim decorum if it took him all day. "I suppose if I were wearing my best morning hat, I would tip it and offer you a good morning. But, I'm not, so I suppose I won't." He offered his arm again to Evelyn with a raised eyebrow. "Well, my lady?"

"I think that it would be best if we did not acquaint ourselves, my lord."

"I do not agree, but be assured I will be a perfect gentleman." He placed a hand over his heart. "I offer my word of honor, my lady, that I will behave."

"Oh, come along, Evie," Moira taunted her, "enjoy yourself for a change."

Outdone by their show of alliance, Evelyn fell in... for a change.

The earl couldn't help but notice that Eve looked conservatively lovely today in a very nice walking gown of dark green woolen with black cording and black short jacket that just hugged the sides of her breasts. The skirt was drawn up to drape in folds over a black underskirt and gathered up in the back of the tournure. The slim silhouette of the outfit enhanced her tall, willowing figure, showing the flair of her hips and fullness of her breasts to perfection. Just the sight of her stirred his blood beyond the polite boundaries of his vowed friendship. It was all he could do not to stare.

"What should we do today, ladies?" Francis asked casually, as they strolled from the gardens and across the lawns.

Moira tossed a coy look to Eve as she hung on Francis' arm earning a stern frown from her friend. "Oh, Evie has events and entertainments planned for the rest of the weekend."

"Do you now?" he asked with a raised brow. "Is there to be no spontaneity then?"

"Any hostess knows that in a large house party there should be plenty of activities planned to entertain everyone," Eve lectured, while fighting back a blush as if she should be embarrassed by proper organization.

"It's almost like you are reading from a book, my dear," he lightly chided. "You should relax a bit. Everything will be just fine."

"You don't understand at all, my lord," she rejoined.

"Francis," he reminded. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

"A hostess' duty..." she began.

"Can be laid to rest when there is only family in residence. I understand from Abby that most everyone who is staying is a relation. Is that not so?" he asked.

"It is, my lord." Francis scowled at her and she sighed in defeat. "Francis."

He sent her a lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat before it raced. "Well, family does not need to be constantly entertained. They can fend for themselves, leaving you free to also enjoy yourself."

I was planning on enjoying myself, she insisted to herself, but didn't say it aloud lest he tease her that she must need to plan time for enjoyment into her day.

"Evie planned for archery today," Moira told him when Eve remained silent. "Of course, the only reason she did so is because she was always best at it and wants to show off her skills to everyone."

"Moira! That is not true!" Eve's cheeks warmed as she felt Francis' teasing eyes on her face. "It is an enjoyable pastime for all."

"That you happen to be very good at," Moira added.

Francis looked at Eve, intrigued. Such a skill seemed much more like the Eve he had met years before. "Are you very good?"

"I have had my moments," she shrugged modestly.

"Eve won the pin at some big summer tournament in Newport three years running," Moira clarified.

Francis was impressed and gave a low whistle to signify that fact. "Is that so?"

"It is," Moira answered for her. "Of course, Evie has always been something of an athlete. Very unladylike behaviors," she tsked although her grin was wide and playful. "Tennis and golf, as well. Though Abby and I are the ones who taught her to play."

"You play golf as well?"

"Probably better than you," Eve amended primly.

"I would not be so sure," he offered with a challenging glint in his eye.

"Perhaps then, my lord, you should try to do your best at facing me over a chess board, since I have no hope of besting you on a golf course?" A twinkle flashed in her eye before she glanced away.

"You play chess as well?" he asked though he supposed he should not be surprised.

"Ummm," she hummed mysteriously.

Pleased that the countess was emerging from her shell more and more when challenged, Francis bragged in a way that was sure to prick at her feminine sensibilities, "'Tis a man's game, you know. Strategy of war and all that. You can't possibly beat me, you know. I am very good."

"We'll see, my lord. We'll see," she offered demurely but with a challenging gleam in her eye that gained a delighted grin from him.

"So I will, sooner rather than later, but I would like to see you play golf as well. I have a small country manor just south of St. Andrews that the family stays at when we play, you know. Perhaps we can go there sometime and play a round," Francis offered. He imagined her swinging a golf club or chipping up to the green against the seas and sky of St. Andrews. It was a sight he truly wanted to see one day. However... he braced himself for what he was sure was coming, and he wasn't disappointed.

"I am sure that would be completely improper," was her stiff response as she closed up again. Getting used to this new version of Evelyn, he wasn't surprised.

"Evelyn Preston, lighten up!" Moira chided suddenly. "You are acting as if you have never bent the rules before. My friend, you spent the majority of your formative years breaking more rules than you followed!"

"Did you indeed?" Francis asked. He was even more intrigued now as he realized how little he had known about Eve really. Sassy and athletic? "Do tell."

Encouraged by the blatant interest in his eyes, Eve relented for a moment. "My Da always encouraged me to do what I wanted to do, not what others expected of me. I just wanted to travel, see new places, learn new things and meet new people. That's why I went to university to study art and architecture. I speak three languages, did you know?" she bragged just a bit, though she winced in self-disgust the moment the words were out. She couldn't comprehend that she was actually trying to impress the man.

"Indeed, I did not know." He led them to a bench near the firth where Eve had sat the previous morning and brushed it clean before gesturing for them to sit for a moment. It might have been only April, but the sun had moved high overhead now bringing with it undeniable warmth. A few moments of rest were due to the ladies. The bench was in the shade of the large oak and the breeze across the water was cool.

They nodded their heads and thanked him.

"And I liked being an athlete," she gave the word the same emphasis that Moira had, as if it were something naughty.

"Heavens, Francis," Moira chimed in. "She wore crimson and diamonds to her debut! Even I was not so daring!"

Francis chuckled at the picture that came to his mind, so far from the standard whites and pearls of the debutantes he had seen, as he lowered himself to the ground at their feet and loosened his tie, thankful that Eve seemed relaxed enough now not to comment on his further bad behavior. "Did you truly?"

Eve shrugged, dismissing the moment, but again there was that glimmer in her eyes that told him she was enjoying the memory of her rebellious self. "Mother was aghast, of course. Da said to do what I want and damn the consequences. The Season we were here, he would always thumb his nose at the sticklers and give them a good 'Cheerio!'"

Eve turned her face to the breeze, closed her eyes and thought fondly of her father. Despite their standing in Society, Eve had always called him 'Da' rather than the proper 'Father' and he called Eve his 'little sinner'; a nickname many considered common and not a little blasphemous. Kitty he called his 'little kitty-cat' showing, in the opinion of many, his distasteful heritage. The Prestons had laughed openly and showed affection for each other in public, which was nearly unheard of in their social set.

"Yet we were very popular here and at home as well, despite our unconventional ways," she told him. Their popularity was the result of their wit and charm; their acceptance in Society the result of their wealth and connections. The combination of the two had forgiven the Prestons their regrettable Irish heritage and lack of proper form.

"Your mother must have quite despaired in you," he commented with a chuckle.

Eve shared a laugh and a smile with Moira remembering some of the letters her mother had sent her while at school. "Indeed, she did," she admitted.

"Well, she had Kitty anyway to mold into her image," Moira laughed.

"Kitty?" Francis questioned.

"My sister," Eve reminded, "the one who looks enough like me to be my twin?"

"Ah, I remember."

"Kitty was always the one who did best following the rules," Moira laughed. "The rest of us never did! I think Eve might have been the worst of us!"

Moira and Francis laughed over this together but for a moment Eve remembered how she used to be – a mixture of what was right and what was wrong. She and her father, as well, may have lived in a society of rules and rituals, but neither had been very good at consistently doing what was polite and proper, as she was now.

Was either way better or worse?

One did not need to be always proper to have friends and be accepted. She had already proven that. Perhaps she could find her way back to the girl she was without completely flouting the rules of Society. Perhaps there was a way to blend who she had been with who she was now without getting lost in between. The idea bore some thinking about.

"I guess I was too much like my Da."

"What is he like?"

"Shouldn't you be asking some questions of Moira, my lord?" Eve asked primly. "I should hate for her to feel excluded from the conversation."

"I have known this brat from the day of her birth!" Francis poked Moira in the side as she laughed down at him. "There is nothing about her I do not know, but there is much about you that I do not. Now tell me about your father."

Eve glanced at Moira and received an encouraging nod. With a shrug, she went on. "Strong-willed, stubborn. To my knowledge he has only admitted that he was wrong about something once in his life." That had been when Eve told him the truth about her marriage and asked him to help her get a divorce. He had said he was wrong to have forced her to marry. "He is a good man, though, a real fighter for what he wanted out of life."

She told him the story of how Lelan Preston had come to America from Ireland with hopes of making his fortune, just as so many others had in those years, though not so many as current years had brought. Her father had known what he wanted to do and be, and had chased that dream to New York and, frankly, had gotten very lucky. Not long after his arrival, Preston had met a businessman up and coming in the industry of shipping and railroads, a man well on his way to becoming one of the richest men in New York, or even the country. Her father had offered his knowledge of shipping (an area in which he was well-tutored as it was his family's business in Ireland) and partnered with that businessman in several ventures in that area. Later he expanded his interests into railroad contracts with the man as well.

Though after thirty years Lelan Preston could in no way rival the immense fortunes that Cornelius Vanderbilt had left his heirs, he knew well that he owed his own financial success to the faith that great man had put in his judgment and abilities.

And so Preston had made his fortune in a relatively short time. A fortune that continued to grow, but it was 'new' money and not worth much to the old guard of Society. Once it was discovered however that Preston was not just another Irish immigrant but the second son of Viscount Gormanston, the doors opened for him just a crack... just enough, as her father liked to joke, for him to thrust through them into that Grand Society. His family's was a low rank, and Irish at that, but peerage was peerage. New Yorkers loved nothing better than nobility among their ranks.

Though Preston was clearly not cut out for the confines of such a close social atmosphere, only one thing keep him content to be there. Actually, one person. Not long after his road to wealth had started to be paved, Preston had wed Margaret Winters, a cousin of the Astors, one of the oldest and most respectable families in New York. Theirs was a true love match, quite unheard of at the time.

Lelan Preston had left his wife a year later to fight for his new country during the War Between the States. Also quite unheard of for a man of his financial circumstance, but Eve's father was a man of strong convictions and beliefs. Throughout her entire life, Evelyn had learned that a person should always fight for what they believe in. Evelyn herself was born just months after the war ended. During those years of war, Maggie Winters Preston controlled the Preston industries, especially active in shipping during the war, much to the disapproval of her peers.

It remained Mrs. Preston's single deviation from the confines of her role as society matron as dictated by generations of Knickerbocker elite.

"So your father was a self-made man, huh? Very impressive to amass such a fortune." A frown wrinkled Francis' brow. "Lelan Preston?"

Eve nodded, giving him a sly look from the corner of her eye. "Your father is Lelan Preston of New York? Owner of Preston Shipping and Transport?"

She nodded again and was rewarded with his whistle of amazement. "You did not know then?" she wondered aloud the question that had plagued her for years. "When we first met, that I was his daughter?"

"How would I have known?"

"Da had insisted you must have known, but I knew I was right, that you weren't just another person who was out to gain something from my father, as he thought," she confessed.

"No, I never knew until this moment. But I see more clearly now why Jack was so determined to pursue you." Francis shook his head in amazement. And I am surprised he gave in so easily.

# Chapter 16

To Evelyn's chagrin, as the afternoon turned into evening, she could not determine whether Francis' presence warmed her or disturbed her. His genuine interest in her family and interests was beyond flattering and appealing. She would guess that he knew more about her in one morning than William had garnered from their entire marriage. Francis was playful and teasing, but no more so than he was to Moira and Abby. Though she tried her best to maintain a barrier of formality between them, Francis bombarded her with his own style of familiarity until it was nearly destroyed.

When leaving to retire to her rooms for a rest and to change before dinner, the earl insisted on seeing her to her room, as unnecessary as it was. As they reached her door, Eve politely nodded her thanks and turned away only to have Francis take her hand and pull her back to face him. He gazed down at her with serious eyes. "Are you going to continue to deny this, Eden?" He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek sending a flush of warmth in their wake and a trembling to her heart.

"Deny what?" she stuttered.

"Ahh, I see that you are. There is nothing for it then," he opened her bedroom door and pulled her in quickly, shutting the door behind them.

"What are you doing?" Eve had meant to put some outrage in her voice but what emerged was a bit breathless as he backed her against the wall by the portal.

Francis cupped her face in his big hands as he stared down at her, his calloused thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Reminding you..." Those low words were Eve's only warning before his lips descended upon hers. His mouth was hot and hungry against hers, parting her lips and delving deeply.

Eve caught his wrists in her hands in an attempt to pull him away, but instead she was caught in the moment, overwhelmed by his passionate kiss. Helpless to fight him, she slid her hands up his bulging arms until she found his shoulders and hung on as he continued to plunder her mouth. After the briefest moment, she gave in and returned his kiss with equal measure, welcoming him and softening beneath him. His kiss lightened then as well, tenderly sucking her bottom lip between his as he dropped his own arms to pull her into his embrace, fitting his big body flush with hers. Eve could feel his heart pounding in his chest and felt hers answer the call.

Her head fell back in surrender and Francis took advantage, running his lips down her neck as she shivered and clung to him. "Oh, Francis," she sighed. Eve could feel her blood racing hotly through her body, a coil of tension between her legs that had her clenching them tightly together. Never in all the years of her marriage had she felt such lust as Francis could inspire in a single kiss. She wanted it to go on forever. She never wanted it to end.

"Eden, my paradise," he murmured, before claiming her lips once again pushing his hands into her hair until it spilled from its arrangement and fell around her shoulders. Francis wrapped the mass around his hands and pulled her closer. "How I want you, my love. I want to make love to you."

Eve shuddered as another wave of overwhelming desire flooded her. She wanted him as well, wanted to feel the strength of his massive body around her. Over her. In her. She shuddered at the realization.

"Francis, I..." She pulled back and met his hot gaze, read all the wanting there. She swallowed deeply. Her eyes roamed his face, its swarthy, sun-kissed hues, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the fullness of his lower lip. With one hand she caressed the rough planes of his cheeks, feeling the stubble breaking through. She noticed the slight graying at his temples. Never had she seen a man so handsome, so compelling. A man whose sheer size made her feel petite and safe. She wanted so badly to just sink into him and lose herself in everything that they were together. But...

Francis read it in her eyes and sighed regretfully, pulling her palm to his lips once more before releasing her and stepping back. Her lips were swollen by his kisses, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with desire, her hair falling in thick waves down her back. She was a postcard of lust and desire and still she would not allow herself to feel. What could have brought her to this, he wondered. What was holding her back? He shook his head. "I can see your answer, Eden. But why? You must know that this attraction between us is not something that comes along every day. It should be embraced. Not rejected."

Shaking her head in denial even as she acknowledged that truth in her heart, Eve merely whispered, "I can't. I'm so sorry, Francis, but I do not want an affair with anyone... even you." The words were the truth and a lie.

"Because it isn't proper." It wasn't a question. "Widows have affairs every day. It is allowed. Discreetly, of course."

"I do not. Cannot."

"Even if you want to?" Francis saw her brow furrow and almost laughed. "Come, Eden, at least admit that you want to. I know you do, as I do." He added this last in a low husky brogue that Eve had to physically move away from, lest she succumb once more.

She moved to her dressing table and toyed with her brush, wishing he would leave. "Can we not just leave it as a 'no, thank you'?"

"Very polite, Eden. Ever polite." The earl caught her reflection in the mirror, watching as she swallowed deeply and frowned.

"Ever polite," she repeated in a sad whisper that caught at Francis' heartstrings and made him relent.

"Very well, Eden," he conceded, feeling that she was on the verge of tears, though he knew not why. "I will let it go. I have no wish to cause you pain. But I will say that I enjoy your company and companionship too greatly to let you go completely. I must insist that you give me your friendship at least."

Eve met his eyes in the mirror. "You want to be my friend?"

"Well, I do like you very much," he teased, rousing a small if somewhat regretful smile from her.

"I like you as well," she returned in a tense, shaky whisper. "I would very much like for us to be friends. But no more kisses, Francis. I have my reputation to think about."

"No more," he swore and cracked the door to ensure the hall was empty before stepping out. "I will see you at dinner then."

Eve nodded and watched as the door snicked closed behind him. "I am such a fool," she mocked herself. "Friendship, indeed."

# Chapter 17

Francis might have claimed that friendship would be enough – and she did so want to have it as she simply enjoyed his company – but as they gathered before dinner and as he was seating her at the table, he persisted in touching her. Her hand, her back. Her cheeks as she sat and he pushed in her chair. From the opposite end of the table, he shot her looks that alternated between longing and heated desire.

Evelyn was not so innocent in the world that she did not know that Francis was seducing her indirectly with those looks and caresses. Worse was that she wasn't even sure he was aware of those little moments, since she was certain of the sincerity of his promise to remain friends. The attraction between them was strong and unconscious. The urge to touch and look was beyond control and she could only hope what was obvious to her did not seem so to the others.

It was not just a physical seduction but a mental one as well. Eve admired his humor and intellect. She liked that he made her laugh even in situations where she knew she should not. He teased her about her adherence to propriety. Yet he praised her skills with the bow that she had displayed that afternoon with open honesty and admiration. Furthermore, he asked her opinions on social and political issues – something her husband had never done throughout the entire course of their marriage. That in of itself held a strong allure.

Still, the physical seduction, the touching, had to be unconscious on his part, she thought again. It was as though he had to be in contact with her in some way at all times. Indeed, this she understood, for it simply felt good to have such tender contact. Such affectionate moments had never occurred with William. Francis was most lover-like and the most terrifying part of it was that some portion of her wanted to become his lover in truth.

Of course, Moira continued to openly flirt with him as well, all through dinner as she was seated at his right, laughing freely at his jests and acting, in Evelyn's opinion, much too familiar with him. Evelyn felt that Moira was developing an infatuation, though she had not admitted as much yet. If the shy nephew of the local bishop was appealing where she came from, then surely a man such as Francis was the most desirable gentleman that she'd ever come across.

To Evelyn's further annoyance, she found herself envying Moira her freedom in flirting with Francis.

"Lord Glenrothes seems to enjoy your company a great deal, Moira," she ventured that evening, as the ladies separated to the parlor after dinner.

"Oh, I've known them all forever, you know that," Moira laughed lightly. "When I would visit Abby, she and I would sneak over to Glen Cairn and follow all the lads around like puppies. As we have gotten older, we all became excellent friends. Eventually, Abby got her Richard, and you needn't worry that I am after Francis, because for me there has been only Vin."

"Vin? Oh, Vincent. Yes, I recall." Vincent was the brother just a year younger than Francis according to the recitation he had given her years before, but now she was able to make the connection between that Vin and the young man Moira had been infatuated with since they were in boarding school. "I have not met him yet. Why is he not here?" she wondered.

"Vin was lost in Egypt more than five years ago." Moira's usually sunny demeanor dimmed a notch. "He, Richard and my brother Jason all joined with the Queen's army that last summer of boarding school, do you remember? They came and went for a couple of years, that last time almost six years ago. I'm sure I wrote you all about this, haven't I? Well, then when Richard came back without them, he admitted that they had been sent behind enemy lines and Jason and Vin had both been captured."

"They were spying? Well, I'm sure you never told me that!"

"Mmm, well Richard got away but when he went back searching he could not find Vin or Jason, and they have never come back," this last came as the softest whisper.

Eve squeezed her arm. "You loved him."

"No, I love him." Moira corrected the tense of the declaration. "True love does not just go away. I think if you pay attention, you'll realize it for yourself."

Eve looked affronted. "I have no idea what you mean!"

"Yes, you do!" Moira poked back. "You shouldn't have to think too hard about it."

The gentlemen joined them a short time later. Eve watched as Francis skirted the perimeter of the room, having a word with his sister here, a brother there, but she was aware that his eyes were drawn back to her every few moments. As she was drawn to him, she admitted to herself. Watching him move toward her was in itself a breathtaking experience. For such a big man, the earl carried himself quite gracefully, rolling in an almost cat-like prowl that sent heat pooling between her thighs as she clenched them together in denial. His thigh muscles bunched and strained against his breeches. The long, narrowly cut trousers clung to his calves all the way to his shiny black shoes. When her eyes travelled back up over his gorgeous visage to meet his gaze, she found him watching her with a glint in his eye that Eve felt could only spell trouble for her, and recognized her own fragile acknowledgement of the inevitable outcome of their attraction.

She turned her attention determinedly to Moira as she played a light highland tune on the piano while laughing and teasing Jack. Francis' sister, Fiona, danced lightly nearby holding her skirts high in traditional highland fashion.

Still, Eve was aware of his position, so when he dropped down on the settee next to her, she wasn't surprised. Though he laid an arm casually along the back of the settee, she maintained a proper posture with her hands folded in her lap and tried to ignore him... or at least not lean toward him.

As she continued to disregard him or even glance his way, his outstretched arm moved a little farther as he caught a loose curl at the back of her neck and twirled it about his finger. Eve shuddered – in anger? in excitement? – and slapped his hand away, glaring at him in reproach.

Francis flashed her that same lopsided grin that had seemed to thaw her through the course of the day and was rewarded with a much different look from his lady. It was a look that begged, but for what, he wasn't sure. Indeed, he wasn't certain she even knew.

"You must stop that, my lord," she insisted breathlessly.

"Francis," he reminded yet again. "And what do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Eve chided. "All the little touches, like just now and at dinner."

"Did I touch you at dinner?" he asked innocently.

"Don't play that game with me." Of course he knew exactly what she meant, since his grin had taken on a mischievous bent. "And you must stop! People are starting to notice and comment upon it. Propriety..."

"I care nothing about propriety," he interrupted with a wave of his hand.

"But I do."

The soft intensity of her words drew his attention and he watched her twist her handkerchief in her lap. She was truly concerned, he realized. She continued. "I do not want to be a source of gossip. Everyone here knows you, while I am relatively unknown. I do not want to be seen as your plaything."

"You are not a plaything, Eden. I would never consider you that way. Besides, it is just family here." As he had indicated earlier, mostly it was just his family staying through the week's end. But as well as the Roper girls and their father and aunt, there was also Abby's two sisters and their husbands, a cousin up from London with her mother and, of course, Jack, Moira, and Moira's great-aunt Edith who acted as her chaperone, making it a large assembly indeed. He turned a bit in his seat so that he could face her, and for the first time, his expression was serious. "Let me be frank, Eden, if I may?"

Wondering where this might be going, Eve gave him a stiff nod.

"The attraction between us, and I do mean the physical attraction, is stronger now than it was eight years ago...on my part at least." He looked at her quizzically but Eve refused to let her demeanor waver. Francis sighed and continued. "I'll be honest, darlin' lass, I want you badly. I want to make love to..."

"Francis!" Eve hissed, blushing scarlet to her roots that he would dare to bring up something so intimate in public. Aghast, she glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I dinnae mean to go on so, but my point, if I might make it, is that I have no intention of seducing you into my bed. I said before that I wouldn't and I meant it. I know that your reputation means everything to you and I would not dream of having you do anything you might consider amoral."

"Well, thank you for that," Eve replied dryly, thinking that he made her sound quite the prude with his statement.

"But," he went on, "I cannae help but touch you. I want so badly to do so."

"You cannot just keep doing so," she chided, while admitting to herself it was not only because of the gossip it would prompt but also because of the havoc it played on her senses. The simplest of contact set her afire much as it had years before. "People will talk and assume what they will."

"I will do my best to control myself. I do not want anyone to think we have become lovers." No, indeed, he simply wanted to be lovers, he admitted to himself. He cared naught what anyone thought.

"I don't want anyone else to think that way either." She glanced up at him.

He looked into her bright green eyes and felt the tug of attraction that he wasn't sure he had the power to fight. "Are you afraid of gossip, Eden, or are you afraid of me?"

"I am not afraid of you." But she was afraid of the way he made her feel. With a look, Francis tempted her to throw all caution to the wind, to fall into his arms just so that she could feel the power of their desire from head to toe. It was so overwhelming and it would be so easy... "Just, please, try to behave."

"I cannot make any promises," he responded. "Even just sitting here, I want to move closer or even simply take your hand in mine."

"Try," she whispered painfully.

"I will try," he conceded, knowing if he was to succeed he needed to keep some distance between them. "To that end, it might be best if we have a bit of entertainment to lighten the moment. What had you planned? Dancing, games? I know you had something planned."

She flushed and nodded. "I knew it! A game then? Yes?" She nodded again. "Hmmm, Shadows?" he guessed.

"No I thought..." she started.

"No, don't tell me, let me guess. Charades?"

She shook her head again trying to rein in the smile that threatened to escape her lips.

"Then it must certainly be Blind Man's Bluff!"

Eve's jaw sagged in astonishment. "How did you guess? There are dozens of games to choose from!"

He grinned that special grin again as he stood and helped her to her feet. "Simple, it is the one that will let me catch you and get a forfeit from you." He waggled his eyebrows. "Can you guess what I will be asking for?"

"Francis! I never planned..."

He ignored her and turned to the room, calling for everyone's attention. "Everyone, how about a game to lighten the evening? Perhaps a game of Blind Man's Bluff would be fun?"

A murmur of appreciation went through the room and Francis' sister Fiona jumped up and down clapping her hands before skipping over to him. "But Francis, you never want to play parlor games at home. You usually just sit in your office all night long, moping."

"Reading," he corrected. "Well, for a change, everyone is here. Why not enjoy it?"

Fiona looked at him suspiciously, studying his face as all the others in the room gathered to draw lots to go first. "What is it with you, Francis?"

Francis looked down into the earnest face of his youngest sibling. "What do you mean, Blossom?"

"Well, if I didn't know better, I'd think you look almost... happy," she decided uncertainly. She reached up and poked a finger between his brows. "The line is gone from there and I think I saw you smile a bit ago."

"Don't be silly, Blossom," he chided. "I smile all the time."

"No, Francis," she said as she walked away, "you don't."

# Chapter 18

Lots were drawn and Francis' brother, Tam, was 'it' first. After being blind-folded, the other players scattered as quickly and quietly around the room as they could. Tam was spun around and sent on his way. Away he went, this way and that, coming first across the husband of one of Abby's sisters, whom he was unable to identify by touch, and he moved on, coming next to Moira. He identified her with, Eve thought, more 'touching' than was needed before he announced her name and claimed his forfeit in a kiss much more enthusiastic than the game warranted, gaining hoots and whistles from around the room.

The first round set the tone for the remainder of the game. Abby found her husband with unerring accuracy on her turn, claiming a kiss that had Eve almost blushing. Fiona, who lived with Richard and Abby for most of the year, applauded them without a hint of embarrassment. James found Abby's sister whom he had been flirting with earlier. Jack caught Fiona with a kiss that brought frowns to eight male faces in the room but a pleased blush to Fiona's.

Surprisingly, the gentlemen were never able to identify other men if they found them first!

After being caught and identified by another of Francis' brothers, Ian, Eve gracefully gave up a light kiss to the young man and it was then her turn to take the blindfold. It was tied tightly and she was turned about as the others rearranged themselves around the room. She reached out blindly before her, uncertain which way to go. Eve rotated left then right, hearing the giggles of the ladies as she took a step first in one direction, then another. A few steps and a turn to left brought her hand in contact with a male chest. Tall, fairly solid, nicely turned out tie... she had no idea. She wrinkled her brow. "Sean?"

"No," she was turned around, back into her search. Two more times she came across men whom she was unable to identify. "Ian? James?" she asked, and was rewarded with laughter all around. "It seems that I am not very good at this!"

"One more try, Eve!" she heard Moira call from across the room. Eve turned in that direction and straight into a solid male chest. It didn't take more than a heartbeat for her to know whom it belonged to. Francis. Funny that she would know him so quickly.

Eve flushed and took a step back. "Name him!" Moira taunted her, knowingly. "You have to guess!"

"It's..." Eve groped for a name to give credence to a lie that would take her away from him.

"No lying," he whispered huskily, reading her mind.

Defeated, she hung her head. "It's Francis." She pulled off the blindfold and stared up at him.

"Forfeit!" Fiona cried excitedly, for apparently this was her favorite part of the game.

"Forfeit!" others agreed.

Anticipation crackled through the air like lightening, raising the fine hairs on the back of Eve's neck.

"Forfeit," Francis whispered, as he lowered his lips to hers.

# Chapter 19

Eve snuck down early the next morning to the stables hoping for – no, needing! – some time alone after humiliating herself the night before. Blind Man's Bluff was definitely being stricken from the list of games she was willing to play, especially when Francis MacKintosh was in the room.

But that kiss!

His lips had been firm, but soft enough to mold to hers as they met. Her gasp of surprise had allowed the kiss to go deeper. He had caught first one lip, then the other moving back and forth before settling in the middle for a long drowning kiss. His hand had caught the small of her back and held her firmly in place as his mouth played on hers. But she had needed no encouragement to stay. She had, in fact, flung her arms around his neck and pulled him closer for more!

When the kiss had finally ended, embarrassment had suffused Eve and it was all she could do to keep from fleeing the room in shame. Abby had insisted that the kiss had only lasted a few seconds, no longer than many of the others, but to Eve it had felt like an eternity. The tightness of her corset had almost brought her to a faint after it!

One kiss and all the promises to behave, all the good intentions, had fled.

But his kisses! Eve rubbed her lips as the groom, Andy, saddled her horse. Amazing! If she had ever thought their first kiss years ago had been amplified in her memory over time, she would have been wrong. If anything it was now more powerful. Consuming. Soulful. It brought want with it. Need. She admitted it. Desire.

She was roused from her daydream as the groom led her mount, Angel, from the stable. He was antsy from not being ridden for the past few days and pranced nervously against the reins. Eve approached him with a few cubes of sugar she had brought with her and stroked his forelock as he took the treat.

"He's a mite wound up today, m'lady," Andy commented. "Might take him a bit to settle in."

"That's alright, Andy," Eve assured the boy. "I think we could both use a good run today." She accepted the groom's help into the side saddle and took several moments arranging her knee in the pommel and settling the skirts of her riding habit properly over her exposed ankles, while he held the reins for her.

"Would you like me to ride along with you, m'lady?" the groom asked, after she had settled herself and taken control of the horse.

"No need, Andy," came a deep voice from behind her. "I will accompany Lady Shaftesbury out today."

"Aye, m'lord." The groom trotted away.

Ignoring the little shudder of pleasure that passed through her at the mere sound of his voice, Eve turned to see Francis atop a sleek gelding. The view was so spectacular that for a moment all thought fled her mind and she forgot even how to take a breath. His windblown dark hair shone under the morning sun. Hatless, and coatless as well, he had obviously just returned from his own ride. Sweat glimmered at his throat, down the V of his open shirt collar. Eve's eyes followed the trail of damp skin, swallowing deeply. "I don't want to be a bother, my lord," she protested weakly. "I can see you've already had a turn about this morning."

"No bother at all," he insisted, and turned away, expecting her to follow. The stable was located behind the old castle where most of what was the bailey three hundred years before had long ago crumbled to a large rectangle of fallen walls. He led her from the bailey east across the lawns then along a small trail that led through a copse of trees toward the firth. "In truth," he continued as she came alongside when the path widened, "I needed some extra exercise this morning. Didn't sleep well, you know."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Did you sleep well?"

Eve considered for a long moment whether to lie to him, but simply admitted, "No."

"That bears some thinking about, wouldn't you agree?"

"I've thought about it all I care to for the moment." Her answer was a bit snippy but she was in no mood to go into their problems at the moment. She was already confused by the temptation Francis represented, by the strange lure he cast to leave the trappings of decorum aside and bewildered by her willingness to do so. She had wanted time alone to consider these things but that would not happen this morning. "Can we talk about something else, please?" She pointed up ahead of them to a circular building hidden in the trees that bordered the rocky coastline on the Firth of Forth and the beach beyond. "What is that building?" she asked, as they rode along.

"The old dovecote," he answered, allowing her to guide their conversation. "And up ahead is what remains of the old battlements." He gestured to the remains of the low stone wall that once ran up the coastline. As they came out of the tree cover, Francis pointed farther ahead indicating, the bowling green, and back up toward the castle. "As you can see, the old lass has lost some of her former luster. It's hard to keep the old castles up and running. The castle fell into disrepair a century past. Restoration takes time."

"I think you've done a wonderful job," Eve insisted truthfully. "The interior is lovely and you've done well bringing in some modern conveniences."

"Still, my home at Glen Cairn is much more comfortable. More a manor than a castle and far away from anyone else." He led the way across the rocky outcroppings leading to the beach. "With the hamlets of Dysart to the north and Kirkcaldy to the south growing and creeping closer to the castle, Raven's Craig will be lost to the towns soon. If I did not own all that land, they would probably build right up to the front door. Perhaps one day they will."

"Luckily you have the bridge and moat to keep them out," she teased lightly. She followed him out onto the beach where the breeze picked up and toyed with her lace jabot, drawing his attention.

"Have I mentioned that you look lovely this morning?" She did, indeed. Her velvet riding habit's long skirt and short tailored jacket were black, offset by the white lace jabot of her blouse and lace at the cuffs with a peacock blue vest under the jacket. Her small black top hat had a band of blue ribbon that just matched her vest, a trio of short peacock feathers accenting the black lace veil tucked around the brim. He felt the now familiar rush of lust she invoked in him and ruthlessly tamped it back down. It would do nothing but alienate Eve if he were to continue to pressure her and seduce her, though he often felt it was all beyond his control when he was with her.

He was astounded again by their mutual attraction. Glenrothes had been certain the disastrous conclusion to his God-forsaken marriage had killed any desire to please or court another lady. His marriage had started out well enough, he supposed. As a gauche eighteen-year-old lad, he had been quite dazzled by Vanessa Fane's dark, seductive beauty. She had been a flirtatious minx, truth be told, but it hadn't taken long to see that her flirtation and seduction skills were not to be limited to her husband. As the years had gone on, Francis had spent more time wallowing in humiliation and anger than any carefree lad should.

Vanessa had made a cuckold of him to the whole of Scotland, publically and brazenly, while other women tried to comfort him with their effusive assurance that the Countess of Glenrothes must be mad not to want him. He had spent years making certain that it was commonly known that his marital woes had nothing to do with his proficiency in the bedchamber. She had been gone for almost two years when he had met Eve. He had almost begun feeling like a bachelor once again without his wife's presence. She had returned a year later with her Spanish lover and had set to living publically with him, making a laughingstock of the MacKintosh name before again fleeing with yet another lover.

There had never been a duel or fight where Francis had attempted to defend his wife's honor, for he knew she had none. By the time he had been able to secure his divorce, Glenrothes had become a stern, bitter man. He knew this about himself. Had accepted it, sure that he would remain alone and embittered for the rest of his days.

Was it any wonder he reveled in the feelings Eve roused in him? So easily she revived a part of him he thought long-dead and buried. She reminded him that life could be filled with humor, exhilaration and anticipation for the future. Francis wanted nothing more than to embrace it all with both hands and never let it go. To run away from the man he had become... and didn't really like overmuch.

"Thank you," she responded finally with a blush of pleasure for his appreciative gaze. "You look quite dashing this morning as well."

"Tha –"

"Despite your lack of proper riding attire," she added stifling a small grin at his look of affront. "Your mount is quite a nice piece of horseflesh as well." The thoroughbred gelding was a lovely chestnut with long legs and thick chest.

"As is yours." Francis looked over the black mount with its powerful body, long mane, tail and fetlocks that all nearly brushed the ground. "Frisian, is it not?" She nodded. "He's a beauty."

Eve patted Angel's neck proudly. "Yes he is. Aren't you a beauty?" she crooned to the horse who threw his head back as if nodding in agreement. "My father gave him to me many years ago. My mother fairly swooned to see me atop such a beast. Ladies should have a proper mare to ride, she thought, but Da knew me better than that. Angel is my best boy, aren't you?"

The horse threw his head again, gaining a laugh from Francis. "Angel, is it? Looks more like the devil to me."

"Well, he's as sweet as an angel with me," she insisted proudly.

"Is he a runner?"

"Oh he's a good runner, knows he looks magnificent when he does, to be sure," she laughed. "But he'd never beat yours in a race. Yours looks like he was built for speed."

"Aye, he was...ran Ascot a few years back." Francis went on to tell how the horse had fallen during a race several years before, sustaining injury that had almost had him put down, but Francis had insisted that he could make a full recovery.

"Has he?"

"Let's find out, shall we?" With a kick of his heels, Francis spurred his mount into action, leaving Eve momentarily in the dust. The next second, she tapped Angel with her quirt and they were off in pursuit up the sandy beaches of the firth. As they neared the Dysart harbor about a half mile up the beach, however, the terrain became too rough and Francis pulled into a walk as Eve came along side. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement and her eyes bright in the morning sun. He had never enjoyed a sight more.

"My God, you are a bonny lass," he breathed as he reached out and pulled her over for a quick, but extraordinary, kiss before easing back.

Expecting a harsh rebuke, he was surprised when Eve merely returned her attention to her mount and cantered a bit ahead of him, leading the way through the rocky harbor area and back onto the sandy beaches on the eastern side.

Eve gave herself a mental shake. One kiss, and a quick one at that, and she was defenseless. She should have at least reprimanded him, if only with a look. Instead, she was so dumbfounded that it was all she could do to continue on. There must be something wrong with her. Morally, Eve knew she should be disgusted with herself. If it were only sexual, she might have been, but it was more than simple lust.

His touch both settled and invigorated her.

The most simple contact – his hand in hers, his hand on the small of her back – gave her a sense of completion. She felt that as long as he was in contact with her, the world was good. It was as Plato had written. All beings were a circle in the beginning, separated and scattered across the universe, letting destiny bring the two halves back together. If Plato were right – assuming Francis was her other half – then in finding each other, they were a whole.

Complete.

She had never believed in destiny before, despite her Catholic upbringing. She had always liked to believe she had some control over what happened, but maybe destiny was alright, she thought. If she didn't fight this thing with Francis, who knew where it might take them?

Excuses! Her more logical half argued. Justification! It wasn't right and she must not give into it!

If only they were wed, she thought, before she gasped in distaste at the very idea. Having experienced a marriage that was much more convenient for her husband than it had been for her, Eve knew she didn't want to give control of her life to a man's care ever again. It wouldn't be worth the risk or reward. But Francis was a free man and she an available widow, perhaps she might, maybe indulge in an affaire de coeur. Widows did it every day, Francis had said. Why not her? The idea shocked Eve, but warmth followed quickly on its heels.

If only there were a way to conduct such an affair with the guarantee that no one else would ever know. As ensconced within the boundaries of propriety as she was, the notion of carrying on an open affair and being subjected to the scorn of her peers was almost enough to put her into a faint. But if it might be done discreetly.... An affair with Francis would be most satisfying, she was sure. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Most satisfying.

She was mad even to consider it.

They rode in silence another mile or so until they reached a short stretch of stone walls and turrets built into the hillside along the beach. Coming to a halt, Eve released her knee and started to drop to the ground but wasn't surprised that Francis was there to catch her. He lowered her slowly down his body until her toes touched the ground.

His lips met hers lightly but deepened almost immediately into a devouring kiss. Eve melted into him for a moment, reveling in the passion of his embrace, before turning her head to the side. "Francis, you must stop," she whispered. He nuzzled her neck and she tilted to give him better access, in denial of her own words. What he makes me feel! she thought. It wasn't fair that she could want something so much as she wanted him.

Eve squirmed out of his arms and stepped back, panting a bit. "Francis, we cannot!"

Francis ran both hands through his hair, tugging on it in frustration. "Och, Eden! You take me to the edge of insanity! I know I shouldn't be pursuing you. I know it!" Hadn't he been telling himself just that the entire night? She was a respectable widow. In spite of how much he might want her, she was definitely not typical mistress material and what else might he offer her? There was so much he could take from her and so little to give in return. He wanted so much from her. He wanted time to be with her, he most certainly wanted her sexually, but he knew it was more than that alone. Francis grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest. "But feel my heart race, lass. You bring me to my knees like a schoolboy quivering with wanting!"

"What do you want me to do, Francis?" She held her hands out, pleading. "If you continue to seduce me - oh, I know you say you will not do so, but you are! – you will succeed." Her admission sent a flare of heat through him. "Is that want you want?"

He wanted her love, her heart. He knew in that moment that he wanted more than a night with her, but on the other hand, he definitely wanted that night with her.

But at the risk of her reputation? When it meant so much to her?

They rode back to the castle in silence, each alone with their thoughts.

# Chapter 20

"Fiona has a certain unreined exuberance about her," Eve commented lightly as she and Francis sat across the chess board from each other that afternoon. Her plan for the afternoon had been rowing on the firth, but since a light rain had taken hold of the day, the afternoon would be spent with games of chance in the parlor. Francis, however, had lured Eve into a friendly chess match. Determined to put the events of the morning behind her, she had accepted, and resolved to keep their conversation polite and neutral if at all possible. So far he had complied with her wishes and kept their banter light and sociable.

"She's a terrible brat," he responded, paying more attention to the board than to her, "but I thank you for your kind understatement."

Eve grinned and played her knight in a move which baffled Francis for a moment. "She and Connor also have a strange relationship, to my thinking. They continually bait each other but it isn't malicious. In fact, they seem to quite enjoy it. Is that typical of large families?"

Francis glanced over at his siblings who were at present squabbling good-naturedly over a game of faro they had set up. "Aye, I suppose most of them are like that, especially the younger ones."

"There are so many of you." Evelyn took a deep breath, returning her focus to the game. "I cannot imagine giving birth to so many children!"

Francis pictured her holding their child in her arms and knew he wanted to make that happen...somehow. A child. Their child. His heart clenched with longing and hope. Then he remembered his mother dying as she gave Fiona life. "Mother died birthing Fiona."

"I remember you mentioning that." Evelyn caressed his hand absently in sympathy. "And your father, when did you say?"

"He died a few years later. Probably couldn't take us all on so he gave in to go back to her," Francis quipped, turning his hand to capture hers. "He was a good man, though. I was very proud to have him as my father. I wish the rest of my family could remember him so well."

"I'm sure they see him in you every day."

Francis planted a quick kiss on her hand before she curled her fingers into her palm and pulled it away. "Ye're a sweet lass. All those manners! Ye really always know the right thing to say. Who taught ye that? Yer mother?"

Her mouth opened and closed and opened again as she floundered for a response.

"Stop that," Francis commanded with some confusion. "Ye look like a bloody fish. What did I say wrong?"

Eve grimaced. Her mother may have tried to give her manners, but it was her husband who had achieved making her the perfect society matron. Ever polite, courteous. She'd never had a choice. Not wanting to go into that, she merely shrugged. "Oh, yes, mother. I was her worst student for many years, I know I have admitted as much to you before. She despaired that I would never fit in."

Easily reading the half-truth of her statement, Francis prompted her for more. "You have been hiding something, what is it? Truth, my love," he pressed.

Eve struggled within herself for a long moment. She wanted so badly to share her trials with Francis, yet knew it would be highly inappropriate given their short acquaintance. Still, if it helped him to understand her and the way she was now, wasn't that better than leaving him in the dark? "When I danced the first dance at my wedding to Shaftesbury, I remember hearing everyone whispering that it was like a fairytale, just like when Jenny Jerome had wed Randolph Churchill."

Francis remembered that story, of course, when the younger brother of the Duke of Marlborough had wed the American heiress. Most had put it about that it was a love match. But of course, many English lords looked to the daughters of wealthy American businessmen to increase their dwindling fortunes, while the daughters were eager to snare a title to accompany their wealth. It was an avenue that he might suggest to Jack Merrill now that it occurred to him. It was usually seen as an agreeable situation of give and take. Jack might sell his title for an American heiress.

He returned his attention to Eve. "So everyone thought yours to be a love match as well?"

"Indeed, they all assumed it was a great romance." She shook her head with some disgust. Eve thoughtfully examined her plays available on the board before her. She considered a moment then made her move before she continued in a low voice, "But all I remember thinking was that he looked at me so oddly. I thought at first it was pride. You know? As if he were proud to have me as his wife. It wasn't just that. It was possession. It's hard to explain what it was like but it was terrifying."

"Did it get better? Was your marriage a happy one?" he asked softly. He regretted asking. If she had been happy and in love, he wasn't sure he wanted to know that another man had made her so, yet at the same time he only wanted her happiness.

But Eve shuddered and shook her head, avoiding an answer. "Was yours?"

Francis laughed harshly. "I divorced her, if you will recall. No, like yours, my marriage was arranged as well. When I was eighteen, my father had taken a fall from his horse and broke his hip and leg in several places. Rather than getting better, his health continued to decline rapidly. The doctors could do nothing for him and speculated that there was some internal injury that was causing the problems. Mother had died only a couple of years before and I feel that perhaps he did not truly want to get better. I think he wanted to join her again, but first he wanted to see the MacKintosh line secured and arranged for a quick marriage to Vanessa Fane. She is the only daughter of the Earl of Westmoreland. A very powerful man. She was eighteen as well, very beautiful. I initially thought I was lucky, in spite of it all."

"So you were happy?" she wondered.

"I would say oblivious, at least in the beginning, would be a better description," he corrected and explained. "You must remember, a lady at eighteen is far more mature than a man at the same age. To her, I was but a boy, a child, and she wanted a man. She had one, many, I don't know. But she gave birth to a daughter not six months after we wed." At her questioning look, he gave a curt nod. "She had allowed me in her bed but once. I assume that my boyish groping was not as satisfactory to her for she never allowed me in it again. But the child was fully developed. There was no doubt that her father had advanced the marriage to hide her disgrace and my father, in his weakened state, was taken advantage of in his desire to see us settled. He died at least before her ignominy became evident."

"Oh, Francis," Eve sighed, and reached over to stroke the back of his hand again. "I am so sorry. Did you love her very much?"

"I never loved her," he denied vehemently. He turned his hand over to hold hers and looked seriously at her for a long moment. "There has only been one woman who as ever taken hold of my heart. Only one woman who has shown me a hint of paradise."

"Oh, Francis," Eve whispered, feeling her heart twist with painful regret over the love they had lost. "Those few moments with you were the best of my life."

"Of mine as well," he returned sincerely. "I have never forgotten you these many years. I have often wondered where you were and what you were doing. Wishing that things could have been different."

Eve stared down at their clasped hands but could say nothing more, as longing washed over her. For she had wished for that very thing for a very long time.

"You avoided the question I asked you earlier."

"No, I didn't," Eve replied evasively. "I told you about my marriage."

"But not how it related to what I was asking," he clarified. "How had I offended you?"

"Let me put it this way, Francis," she gave him a direct, honest gaze. A hard look to his mind. "I would rather have had a marriage with an unfaithful spouse who went his own way than to have suffered a miserable marriage where my spouse was there every day. You said before that I had changed, that it was as though I were inside myself but would not come out and you were right." Eve took a deep shuddering breath uncertain whether she could continue, but Francis reached across and took her hand in quiet support.

"For six years, Shaftesbury controlled my every moment. For six years, he molded me into his version of a perfect socialite. I did what he wanted, when he wanted. I was hardly allowed to breathe unless he gave his say so. If I tried to stand up for myself, he would punish me as he saw fit. His punishments were appalling and sometimes painful, but the worst was when Laurie was a year old." She paused and took another shaky breath, the bitterness that had built in her voice suddenly deflated. "He took my baby away from me for almost a month as punishment for saying something untoward to one of his cronies. I can't even remember what it was that I said, but he knew how to hurt me, Francis. He knew exactly how to extinguish any fire I dared show. He demanded perfection, insisted on it and forced me to it."

"My paradise, I had no idea." He caressed her hand and kissed her palm. Inside, though, he was seething with anger at the man who had dared to abuse this woman. A woman of her fire and liveliness should have been treasured and nurtured! It was appalling that her husband had not done so!

"No one did." She hesitated but pulled her hand back. "I was so humiliated by what was happening to me I did not dare to tell anyone, even my sister. I had only just gotten the courage to ask my father to help me secure a divorce when Shaftesbury was lost on the Utopia."

"You had the courage to ask for a divorce? Did you not fear the consequences? The scandal?" Francis thought of the years of indecision that had preceded his own bid for divorce. How he had feared the scandal, not for himself but for his brothers and Fiona.

"I did." Her mouth set in a determined line. "But I deserved freedom to make my own choices in life. I needed that freedom for myself."

Glenrothes' head spun suddenly with possibilities. This woman, who had convinced herself that she was unable to countermand Society, had been willing to face the greatest scandal of all in seeking a divorce from her husband? An earl of the British nobility, no less? She might think herself meek and proper but there was strength and rebellion in her, indeed, if she had been willing to take such a step. What an enigma! His own divorce had rocked the local society and brought down a scandal that had plagued his clan for years. Only recently had they been able to emerge from the cloud that had hung over them, though he was still watched and talked about. The whole experience had been a test of their love for one another as a family.

Eve would have been well aware of what such a scandal would mean but had been willing to face it. What that told Francis was that there was a part of her yet willing to take chances, even if she didn't see it in such a light. To risk everything she cared for despite the outcome. Perhaps there was one other thing she might care enough about to take such a chance?

When Francis remained silent, Eve met his gaze. "You've got quite a gleam in your eye, Francis," Eve commented lightly. "Whatever are you thinking?"

"I will share with you soon, my Eden," he assured her. "Just let me think on it a while longer." Though he had not admitted it to Eve or anyone else as yet, Francis was determined to have a future with Eve. He would not forsake her again. He refused to live the rest of his life without her.

"Very well. By the by, check mate."

# Chapter 21

After dinner that evening, when the ladies had departed the dining room, Jack lit a cigar and puffed on it for a few moments, while he watched his friend sipping from a glass of port with a contemplative look on his face. "What has you in such a quandary, MacKintosh? The ice queen not melting quickly enough for you?"

"I believe I have asked you repeatedly not to refer to the countess in such a manner, Merrill," Francis responded in a low, dark tone, as he swirled the ruby liquid around his glass.

"I believe you haven't answered my question," Jack retorted blithely.

"And I do not intend to." Francis' voice was rough and distracted prompting Richard to take an interest in the subject.

Richard leaned forward curiously. "Something is on your mind, brother. What is it? Your look is much more serious than that of a man planning a seduction." Richard leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. "Naturally, Abby and I still feel that you should not pursue the countess any further."

"Naturally," Jack drawled.

"You're right. Naturally," Francis concurred.

"He is?"

"I am?"

Francis snorted as he took another sip of his port, rolling the heavy liquid around appreciatively before swallowing. "You have told me time and again in these past days, quite adamantly, I might add, that the countess is a respectable woman and deserves more than to be cast in the role of a temporary lover. Is that not so?"

"It is," his brother answered wondering where this was going.

"Well, you are right."

"I am?" came the doubtful response.

"He is?" Jack chimed in, baffled.

Francis looked thoughtfully into his drink. "She does deserve more." He downed the rest of the drink and thunked the empty glass to the table. The burn of the alcohol matched the fire of his resolve for he wasn't going to stand apart from his destiny any longer. "That's why I am going to marry her."

The two other men exchanged a shocked glance. "You're not serious!" Jack retorted, choking on his shock. "After all that bitch put you through." Haddington waved them off when the brothers both started in protest. "Not the countess, the other one! Nessa made your life hell for nearly a decade and you would voluntarily put your head in the noose again? You must be foxed."

Disbelief was evident in his friend's expression, but Francis merely nodded thoughtfully, settling back into his chair. "Not foxed at all, merely... awakened. Aye, I believe I would do it. For her."

"Unbelievable!" Jack huffed and downed his port in one swallow. He glanced down the table where the remainder of the MacKintosh brothers and other men had gathered, before lowering his voice. "I would and will do it because I must, lest I lose my estates, but old man, you have options! Have an affair with her and get her out of your system! You needn't marry just to get under her skirts."

Francis leveled a look upon his oldest friend that had Jack reconsidering his words.

"Umm, Francis?" Richard tentatively asked. "You realize that Eve is a woman of unimpeachable propriety? Have you forgotten the scandal of your divorce?"

"Of course not," he tapped the empty glass on the table and lolled it from side to side. "Eve told me something today which I will relay to you in the strictest confidence."

"Aye?" Richard prompted him to continue.

"It seems her husband Shaftesbury was not the best of husbands. He was abusive to her." The other two men raised their eyebrows in surprise. "Indeed, the countess was planning on divorcing him before he died."

Both men's eyebrows shot farther up. "Really?"

Francis nodded. "Damn the bloody consequences, damn the scandal. She was going to do it, and it got me thinking that perhaps my scandal would not mean so much to her. You see, she was planning on doing it herself."

"That scandal has been so harsh that you've become a veritable hermit these last years," Richard reminded him. "Added to that, Westmoreland practically tore the earldom apart financially."

Francis considered his first marriage and his damned wife. All ten of the MacKintosh siblings had taken to that name for his wife within the first couple years of their marriage fifteen years ago, when Vanessa had been caught in the embrace of the earl's secretary. Francis' damned wife. Even wee Fiona from two years of age had called her that.

None of the MacKintosh clan could truly understand why Alec MacKintosh and Vanessa's father, Jamie Fane, had forced this marriage on Francis. He had wanted the line secured to be sure, but why Fane's daughter? None of them had known. Vanessa had been the terror of Glen Cairn; impossible to live with and impossible to please. Though none of them tried to please her much anyway once her duplicity was known.

Francis' damned wife was quite adept at finding her pleasure without any of their help. She would sleep with any man who cared to make the effort and had cut a wide path through the male servants and crofters before the end of their second year of marriage. It wasn't until she tried to seduce their brother Vincent a year later that they discovered the whole truth of her exploits. Vin had been nineteen at the time and so obvious in his rejection of her that her rage had nearly shaken the castle walls.

When she had taken up her public affair, that had been enough for Glenrothes. Determined that he could take no more, Francis had attempted to petition a divorce only to be visited by Vanessa's father, the powerful Earl of Westmoreland. He had slapped the divorce petition down before Francis and told him that if Francis ever attempted to divorce his daughter again he would ruin the entire MacKintosh clan. Westmoreland was a powerful man; his connections were so deep that he'd managed to secure the petition before it had even reached the courts.

But by that time, Francis was not a callow youth any longer. He was Glenrothes! He was no longer cowed by Westmoreland and his threats to ruin the MacKintosh family. Glenrothes had become a power of its own since he had taken over the earldom. Francis had taken the matter all the way to the crown on grounds of adultery, even bringing in his brothers and others before the courts to stand witness.

Richard was right, it had cost him dearly both in reputation and monies. Westmoreland had fought the proceedings vehemently and stretched it out over years before finally, four years ago, the commitee had finally found in Glenrothes' favor and a Parliamentary divorce had been granted.

"He did," Francis agreed gravely to Richard's point, "but we have recovered and grown even greater." Glenrothes now had influence, it was true. Through his business and political connections, Francis had grown the earldom to easily rival that of Westmoreland. Were it not for Vanessa's occasional presence in Edinburgh, the scandal would have all but died, however the woman did not have the decency to flee to the continent and stay away. At least she was in London for now. "There will be a greater scandal if I remarry," he added. "Do you not think our family could withstand it?"

Richard knew the men of the family could. The older ones especially remembered how Francis had suffered from his marriage and would all give an arm or leg to have their brother find peace. The revelation that Francis wanted to achieve that serenity through remarriage would shock them all no doubt. But what of Fiona? He raised the question to his brother.

"Fiona will have a dowry large enough to make any man forget and forgive such a scandal. If I make this happen now, she can have her debut next Season and most will be forgotten," Francis voiced his plan. "With a new Countess of Glenrothes, a woman of impeccable reputation, to see her through it."

"You mean to do it then?" Richard asked.

"I had my solicitor draw up a marriage contract this afternoon." Francis pushed away from the table and stood as Richard clapped him on the back. "All I have left to do is propose."

"We'll stand by you, old chap."

"Thank you, and until then I mean to take your advice and merely court Eve properly until we are wed," Francis grinned. "It will be hard to resist temptation though."

Jack was a bit slower to get up from the table as he shook his head in disbelief. "Are you actually saying that you're going to do it? I mean you are actually going to marry again? You want to get married again? To the ice...the countess, of all people? You barely know her!"

"Aye, my friend, that is exactly what I mean." Francis grinned and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "And believe me, I know her very well."

"You'll have to excuse me." Jack walked toward the stairs. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Richard and Francis watched him go in amusement. "Abby will want to collect on her bet, you know?" Richard reminded him.

"I will be glad to pay," Francis told him in all honesty. "I knew all along there was an exception to every rule. I should have known better than to bet against her."

# Chapter 22

"Journeys end in lovers meeting,

Every wise man's son doth know."

William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

Moira and Eve were again ensconced in the corner chatting after dinner when Jack joined them some minutes before the other men. The look he gave Eve roused her curiosity but, rather than question him about it, Eve brought up another topic that had been niggling at her in the back of her mind. It had occurred to her that if Jack wanted a wealthy heiress then Moira should be just the ticket for him, and asked him about it after he joined them.

Surprisingly, Jack shuddered. "Alas, as wealthy as she is, I could no more marry Moira than my own sister!" he admitted. "She is a brat to say the least and I have known her since she was a young child. Having seen her in short skirts and with her hair in plaits, I cannot contemplate the prospect of taking her as my wife."

"Yet Richard had no problems taking Abby as his wife and he had known her just as long," Eve pointed out. "Perhaps you should reconsider?"

Jack arched a brow as he eyed Moira and she stuck out her tongue at him. Shaking his head, he laughed, "It would simply not do, but fear not, fair maiden, I will pursue you no longer." He put a hand to his chest and gave her a semblance of a bow from his seated position.

"You won't?" Eve asked skeptically, somewhat ashamed that he saw so readily through her blatant attempt to provide him with another fox to hunt.

The other men joined them in the parlor then and Francis made a beeline for them not bothering to look casual about it in time to hear Jack's response.

"It has come to my attention that the bonds of friendship are stronger than the needs of my pocketbook," he intoned dramatically, but Eve understood the implied message. For his friendship with Francis, he would leave her be. If nothing else, that was something for which she owed Francis her thanks.

Francis clapped him on the back. "The bonds of friendship must indeed be strong," he joked. "I still cannot imagine you would give up on the fortune of Lelan Preston!"

"Lelan Preston?" Jack's brow creased. "The American?" His brow cleared and he looked Eve over again. "No! You're that..."

Francis could easily see where his friend's thoughts were racing and winced at supplying new incentive for his friend to resume his pursuit. "You didn't know?" He shared a look with Eve who cringed at the prospect of a renewed courtship from the earl.

"Of course I didn't know!" Haddington contemplated Eve again stroking his chin.

"Bonds of friendship, Jack."

"But..."

"Don't even think about it."

"Well, I thank you for ruining my evening," Jack huffed miserably. "Some music would be welcome, I think. Do you play the piano, Lady Shaftesbury?"

"Only very badly," Eve admitted honestly.

Jack rose slapping his knee and held a hand to Moira. "Come then, brat, play for us. I know you can do so well. Something with a spiritual uplifting would be appreciated. I will even turn the pages for you."

"Oh, very well," Moira replied with playful reluctance, taking his hand and leaving Eve and Francis to themselves.

"I hope he doesn't decide to forsake your friendship and pursue me once more," Eve said at length.

"You really don't like him?"

"Not one bit."

"He probably wouldn't make a very good husband anyway."

"Most definitely not."

Eve sat in silence for a moment, aware that she and Francis were essentially alone here in the corner of the room. It was not an uncomfortable silence, indeed it was almost too comfortable. He was lightly caressing her hand where it lay hidden in the folds of her black brocade skirts. He toyed with her fingers and caressed her palm, sending shivers of excitement through her. How amazing that such a simple contact could so disturb and yet calm her!

Francis' thoughts were not so calm. Here was his opening. Jack might not make a good spouse for Eve, but Francis knew that he would and surely she would recognize that as well. Drawing a deep breath, he started to form the words, but...

"What is it P.T. Barnum said? There's a sucker born every minute? That's what a marriage makes you. And really, why would any woman marry again if they didn't have to?" Eve asked softly staring across the room. "Putting oneself voluntarily under the thumb of another? Becoming another's possession once more?" A little shudder ran through her before she turned her attention to him. "You feel the same way, don't you Francis? After all the sorrow your marriage brought you, surely you would never want to wed again?"

The earl could do little more than offer a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know anymore, Eden. There might be possibilities that you aren't considering."

"I can't imagine what might motivate one to do so." A corner of her mouth quirked up in a slightly sad smile. "We'll be going back to Edinburgh in the morning and you will return to Glen Cairn." She turned the conversation. "From there I will leave to return to England by the end of the week. I have so enjoyed the time we have spent together, Francis. In all these years I never dreamed of seeing you again."

With that, all of Francis' plans seemed to have been neatly sidestepped, though she couldn't possibly have known what he intended for them. She wrapped it up with a tidy retreat back into her safe world where there was no chance anything would change. But a new resolve hardened Francis. She might think this was the end for them, that he would just let her walk away from him again, but Francis had no intention of letting that happen. She was his! And if he had to breech every defense Eve had built around her since her husband's death, he would. He was willing to fight for a future with her.

Their future. One that would not be about possession or ownership, but one of love, respect and passion.

Let the campaign begin!

### Part 3

# Chapter 23

Glen Cairn Manor

Glenrothes, Scotland

Francis ambled into the front hall of his manor at Glen Cairn early the next afternoon. It had been a pleasant morning. After taking his breakfast with Eve, they had taken a short stroll down to the beach to say their goodbyes. The dear lass actually thought he was going to let her move on with her life without him! He had revealed nothing of his plans, just kissed her hand softly as he had handed her into the carriage that would take her and the rest of his family to the train station and back to Edinburgh. He imagined her surprise when he would catch up with her there in a couple of days, but first he needed his mother's ring so that he could propose properly.

And he intended to make her miss him a bit before he showed up.

Francis whistled softly to himself as he tossed his coat to the waiting butler.

"Master James arrived moments ago, my lord," Godfrey – who had returned to the manor the previous evening – intoned dourly careful not to let any of his own opinions show.

"Jamie's here?" Glenrothes asked in surprise. James had left the house party the previous day to return to Edinburgh to continue the seduction of the young widow he had begun wooing at Raven's Craig. Must be that his attempts had failed if he returned so quickly home.

"That is what I said," came the sour reply. "He's taking luncheon in the family dining room."

The earl walked merrily into the small dining room. Flinging himself into a nearby chair, and nearly startling James out of his, he snatched a piece of beef from his brother's plate. "What are you doing here? Thought you'd gone back to Edinburgh. Did your wooing not work out as you hoped?"

"Good afternoon to you also." James eyed his eldest brother suspiciously. "You seem in rather high spirits this day."

"I have every reason to be."

"Richard wired me that you would be returning to Edinburgh in a few days. I thought you would remain at Glen Cairn for the Season again this year but apparently you have other pursuits on your mind," James said with reprimand clear in his tone.

The elder MacKintosh frowned at the tone of his brother's words. "Why are you here, brother?"

James shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had ridden hard all morning from town to get here after receiving his brother's wire the previous day that he would be travelling to Edinburgh soon. And, aye, he was tired and irritable from not yet winning the fair widow.

Skirting the question momentarily, he asked instead, "Have you considered what your continued pursuit of the countess might do to her reputation?" He raised his hand to stop his brother from interrupting. "I'm sure you know that Abby considers Lady Shaftesbury very highly and she is concerned for the countess' reputation. Your attention to her at the ball has already been noted around town and, given your seclusion of recent years, any further pursuit of a lady will cause gossip. Your very presence in the city will cause comment, I'm sure."

Francis knew all this was true but felt that with honorable intentions all would be forgiven when he and Eve wed. "Abby put you up to this? I have already talked to Richard about my plans. You know..."

James interrupted him. "Soon people are going to be talking behind her back. Don't you care how that affects her? Maybe it would be best, for her sake, if you just called it off now before things turn for the worst."

"Call it off?" Glenrothes leapt up from his chair knocking it over, stunning James. His entire life Francis had been a rock for the family. He had been a supportive brother after the deaths of their parents, a father to the younger ones who had never known another. He had suffered the humiliation his wife had dealt him with amazing stoicism and had always, always been a voice of calm and reason in every situation. Never had he imagined his brother to be capable of so much emotion. "Call it off! Are your wits completely addled, man! She's everything to me!" He slapped both hands to his chest and stomped away from the table, angry at himself for making such a bold admission to his brother.

Just before he got to the door, James' voice cut softly through his rage.

"Vanessa's back in town, brother."

Francis stopped abruptly and turned back to face James who now stood by the table. "What?"

"She's back. I thought you'd rather hear it from family." James' eyes were full of sympathy. "She's currently ensconced at your townhouse and has been for most of the week. Quite a surprise when I got there. Had to take a room at a hotel to avoid her. I left word for everyone to stay at Richard's for the time being, but I thought you'd want to know and perhaps spare Lady Shaftesbury her presence and sharp tongue."

Astonished, Francis fell into the nearest chair and covered his face with his hands. He leaned back and laughed humorlessly at the ceiling. "I thought I had finally paid her enough to leave permanently. Damn!" He picked up a nearby candelabrum and flung it across the room. "What happened? Did her latest lover abandon her?"

"Died, I believe," James inserted sardonically.

"The bitch! I won't have her come back here now and ruin my life again! Her presence will resurrect all the old gossip. How am I supposed to ask Eve to marry me with that bitch lingering over my shoulder?" Francis ran his hands through his hair.

"Marry you!" His brother dropped back into his chair, astounded by the admission. "My God, man, I thought you were just trying to seduce her! It never occurred to me that you might think of marrying her. You haven't ask her yet? Well, there is that at least, perhaps the scandal will not come to her despite rumors of your flirtation from the engagement party. Nessa could rip a lass like the countess apart in moments."

Francis knew that was the truth. Vanessa Fane was a tough old bird. If she were in town when his marriage to Eve was announced, she'd raise all the hell she could and give Eve no mercy. No, he couldn't simply let Vanessa ruin everything now. But how to stop her? He voiced the question to his brother.

"I don't know, old man," James admitted. "It doesn't seem that there is anything you can do. Except to find a way to keep Lady Shaftesbury from her."

"I'll have to go to town right away and see how much it will take to get her to leave again," Francis decided. "I must at least get her out of my house before anyone of import realizes she is in residence. Perhaps I can have her gone before anyone knows she is there."

"What if she won't go?"

"Then I will go," the earl announced. "I will go with Eve back to England instead. Nessa be damned. I can't lose Eve," he mumbled to himself. "I can't lose my paradise."

Agreeing to meet his brother within the hour for the ride back to Edinburgh, James pondered the situation. Any fool could see from how he carried on with the countess that Francis fancied the woman, but marriage! It was beyond comprehension. Lord only knew, after standing witness to the mockery Vanessa had made of the institution, James had no intention of ever going to the altar. The very idea that Francis would voluntarily bind himself to a woman again was simply unbelievable, regardless of whatever affection he held for the countess.

Truly, James liked the countess, but still would rather see her become his brother's mistress rather than his wife.

And the scandal! Perhaps Francis had not considered it wasn't just about him any longer. He had his family to consider and now he had Lady Shaftesbury to think of, as well. His paradise, Francis called her. The only place on earth where he had found perfect happiness, happiness that James and all their siblings knew he deserved. This week had shown a side of Francis that none of them had seen in years. Without cynicism. Happy.

Francis' heaven was about to become hell on earth.

### Chapter 24

Townhouse of Lord & Lady Richard MacKintosh

Moray Place

Edinburgh, Scotland

Francis jogged up the steps of Richard's Edinburgh townhouse early the next morning nursing a vile temper. After arriving at his own townhouse late the previous evening, he had spent hours waiting for Vanessa to get back from whatever entertainments had occupied her evening. The arguing that had followed had been loud and raucous. It had taken additional time to get her and her belongings sent along to a hotel. Thus, he was working on only a couple of hours of sleep. His bad humor reflected it.

He rapped briskly on the door. It was opened by a man he had never seen before. Francis leaned back to ascertain he was at the right house before, asking, "Who are you, man? You are not Richard's man."

"Indeed not, sir. I am Hobbes."

"Where is Guthrie?" Francis asked as he shouldered his way in, holding his gloves and hat out to the butler though Hobbes did not reach out to relieve Francis of the items.

"I am here, my lord," a younger butler rushed into the hall, glaring at Hobbes as he did so.

"Please let Lady Shaftesbury know I am here to see her," Francis ordered.

Guthrie snapped to attention. "Right away, my lord." Turning to go, he was halted by Hobbes raised hand.

"I am sorry, my lord, Lady Shaftesbury is not receiving at the moment," Hobbes intoned in a manner that bordered on the blasé.

"Who are you again?" Francis asked, insulted that any servant of his brother's would dare to gainsay his wishes.

"I am Hobbes, my lord," came the uninformative reply. For a moment, Francis was sure that the man was laughing at him. On the inside, of course, since there had been no outward change of expression.

"Hobbes is Lady Shaftesbury's man, my lord," Guthrie hastened to explain as he took Francis' hat and gloves nervously. "Lady Shaftesbury brought her own household with her when she arrived, since we had been in England for Lady MacKintosh's lying in. Now that Lord and Lady MacKintosh have returned, he should be leaving soon." This last was added with a roll of the eyes that indicated Guthrie hoped this would happen very soon, indeed.

Ahh. Domestic strife, Francis thought. Better to steer clear of all that.

"Very well, Hobbes," he turned to Eve's butler, "please inform Lady Shaftesbury that I am here to see her."

"As I mentioned, Lady Shaftesbury is not receiving at this time." The man's stare was focused slightly above and beyond Francis' left shoulder.

"She'll see me. Just let her know that I am here." Annoyance began to creep into Glenrothes' voice.

"And you are?"

"He's the bloody earl, you dolt!" Guthrie interjected. "Just let him by!"

"Have you a card, my lord?" Hobbes ignored the younger man and held out a silver salver in the earl's direction.

"A card?"

"Yes, my lord, a calling card." Hobbes' voice and expression were still bland, but Francis was very sure the man was purposefully rousing his ire.

He bit out, "I have no card, just tell Lady Shaftesbury that the Earl of Glenrothes is here to see her." Francis did not normally bandy his title about for purposes of intimidation but his temper was getting up.

"Am I sorry, my lord, but Lady Shaftesbury is not currently at home," the butler replied smoothly.

"I thought you had said she was not receiving, not that she wasn't at home!"

"She was not receiving when you arrived, my lord, and she has left the residence since that time," Hobbes informed him.

"So while you have been wasting my time here, she has left?" Francis' astonishment was evident in his eyebrows that shot up.

"That would seem to be the case, my lord." The butler's lips finally twitched just a bit and Francis felt like socking him.

"And where would she have gone?"

"I am not at liberty to say, my lord," came the calm reply.

Francis was just about to grab the man up by his shirtfront when Richard wandered out from his study.

"Francis! I thought you wouldn't be by until the end of the week?" he asked. "What brings you here?"

"Been working on a little problem that I will need your help with later." Francis shot a glare at the butler. "But I had thought to see Lady Shaftesbury first."

"Oh well," Richard shrugged, "you just missed her. She went out for a ride in the park. Do you want to come in for breakfast until she gets back?"

"No, but I'll be back for dinner if you don't mind," Francis replied, snatching his hat and gloves from the fidgeting Guthrie's hands and gave Hobbes one final frown. He left the house stomping in frustration not acknowledging Richard's, "We'll see you then."

"What's got in to him, do you think?" he heard his brother ask and growled at the butler's response of, "I'm sure I have no idea, sir."

Mounting his horse, Francis kicked him into a gallop around the cobbled circle of Moray Place and down Heliot Street, toward the Queen's Street Park, a likely destination for a lady riding. Still burning in frustration from her butler's provoking attitude, he thought he'd have several things to say to Eve on that subject when he found her.

Ten minutes later, he still had not located her on the normal paths the ladies used for riding. He was about to turn back when he saw her at last, near one of the many small ponds that dotted the park. A flood of emotion set his chest into a tight ache, washing away the frustration and anger that had been simmering inside him.

God, but she was lovely! Despite the unrelenting black of the riding habit she wore, she took his breath away. He couldn't wait to have her as his own. As he watched, she squatted down on her haunches, her head bowed. As Francis circled around the trees, he saw that she was with a young boy of perhaps five or six years. Their golden heads were nearly touching as they concentrated on something the boy was holding.

"And look here, mummy," he heard the boy's voice, young and London aristocratic, now. "You can see the mouth if you look closely. You see it? Just there?"

Her son! Eve had a son, maybe several! He recalled now that she had mentioned a baby but hadn't considered it farther. Why had he not thought to ask? She had been married for six years; naturally she would have had children. He looked at the boy more closely and saw all of Eve in him. Her coloring, build and features.

Eve removed her glove and reached out to take what appeared to be a very large earthworm. She held it up before her face. "Why yes, Laurie, I do believe you can see it."

Francis could not help but laugh aloud, drawing their attention to him. "Surely, you're the only lady I have met who would even think of touching one of those!" He dismounted as he spoke.

Eve rose to her feet and gave him a smile full of surprise and joy as she brushed off her hands with her handkerchief after handing the worm back to her son. "I had an interesting childhood, my lord. What on earth are you doing here?"

"I came to surprise you," he gave a nod to the boy. "And who is this with you here?"

"This is my son, Lawrence, Earl Shaftesbury. Laurie, this is Earl Glenrothes, he is Lord Richard's brother." She put a hand proudly on Laurie's shoulder as the boy made a formal bow in his direction.

"My lord, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he piped solemnly.

Francis returned the bow with all seriousness. "Mine as well, my lord," he replied. "Are you enjoying your outing today?"

"Oh, yes! Mummy and I ride out every day we can, my lord." The boy replaced the worm on the ground. "She believes that there is more to learn than a mere classroom can teach you. So we ride, explore or play some sports each day."

"Your mum is a very smart lady," Francis replied with a wink to Eve.

"Indeed she is, my lord. She went to university as well," he told Francis. "She is also currently teaching me to play golf."

"Aye, she told me she plays," Francis raised a playful brow. "She has been reticent in accepting my challenge for a round. I believe she is afraid to face it."

"Oh, not my mum, my lord," the boy responded in defense. "Mum isn't afraid of anything. She will take you on, I am certain of it."

"I look forward to the challenge, my lord," she agreed, with a gleam in her eyes. "Laurie, darling, why don't you run along for a moment? I believe Lord Glenrothes would like a word."

"Yes, mummy," he answered, and trotted back to the edge of the pond.

"He seems to be a fine boy, Eden," he commented looking after the lad with a feeling akin to longing. Glenrothes had always expected to sire an heir, but had wanted a son not only from his sense of duty but also from his sense of family. After his parents had died, he had fulfilled the role of father without hesitation for his ten younger siblings. Never had he resented the responsibility but rather had taken pleasure from it and looked forward to the day he might enjoy his own offspring. He had even fostered Vanessa's daughter but longed for the fruit of his own loins to nurture. The last several years had forced him to accept Richard's son, Tristram, as his future heir, but now... Francis felt a surge of anticipation that he might have a family of his own soon. Of course, he had yet to propose to their potential mother.

"Yes, he is," she told him proudly. "I'm sorry I did not have you meet him at Raven's Craig."

"I guess I kept you very busy. Is he..." Francis faltered for a moment, "your only child?"

"Yes." Eve took Francis' offered arm as they turned to walk back toward the horses not seeing the expression on his face. "One was enough for William. I believe he thought that pregnancy ruined the aesthetic I was supposed to provide him." Her words were soft but Francis caught a hint of bitterness in them. "What are you doing in town, Francis?"

"I couldn't stay away. I've decided to convince you to stay a while longer." It was the truth. He had much to contend with, but just seeing Eden's smiling face was enough to bring him confidence that all would be well. "You look so lovely today," he whispered into her ear, and brushed a kiss just below it, pleased to see her shiver in response. "I would like to kiss you senseless right here in the park."

Eve shivered at the thought and looked up at him almost hopefully. In truth, she was thrilled to see him. It had taken everything she had to walk away from Raven's Craig without him, to accept that she would never see him again. She had felt his loss immediately and keenly, regretting within moments her decision to separate herself from the temptation he provided. In truth, spending some more time in his company before she returned to England would be just the thing for her. This way she might foster a lifetime's worth of memories to fill the rest of her days with.

He took her hand in his instead and held it to his lips disappointing them both. "May I escort you home? Or are you continuing on your ride?"

"We were to continue on until it is time for Laurie's lessons." Eve glanced back at her son who was now regarding them with a serious expression. Aware of her proximity to Francis, Eve took a step back, withdrawing her hand with an apologetic smile. "You are, of course, welcome to join us if you'd like."

"I would like that, but people might talk when they see us together," he warned.

"It's just a ride in the park with a capable chaperone," she coaxed. "If anyone is aware of what is allowable and what is not, it is I. Truly, Francis, please try to lighten up a bit."

"As you will, my lady." The earl bowed humbly enjoying her bit of humor. Perhaps there was a chance that Eve would find it within herself to ride out his scandal with him. If she loved him.... The thought brought Francis up short. She hadn't mentioned any deeper feeling for him, he realized. They had spoken of their attraction, true, but not of the accompanying feelings. Only that she cared for him. He realized that he needed to do a more thorough job of courting to truly engage her heart lest she turn down his offer of marriage.

He needed her to realize that she loved him as he did her... Francis shook his head in surprise. God, he was in love with her! He turned in the saddle and studied her as she trotted along with her young son. Not just a woman of a beautiful countenance but a woman with a beautiful soul. Caring, witty, and obviously a woman who valued family as much as he. There was nothing about her except perhaps her reticence that did not attract and enthrall him. Even that appealed to him in a way, challenged him to overcome it and to conquer. In love, just as he had been eight years before. More so, in fact, for he was more matured and experienced, as was she. Extraordinary, incredible love.

"Your family is most delightful, Francis," Eve told Francis when he joined her after dinner that night. While their morning had been a pleasant one, Eve had been conscious of her son's presence and managed to keep the conversation light and inclusive of Laurie. Francis had not minded since the boy was intelligent, despite his youth. He had found himself wishing that the lad were his own and wondered what the son they would someday create together might be like.

Again through dinner, Eve managed to maintain that buffer of social politeness. Once more at an arm's length, more than polite. Friendly, but not too friendly. Word must have gotten around his family regarding his intentions since the lot present seemed to glance studiously back and forth between Eve and him. It was rather like being the players in a game of lawn tennis. Waiting and watching. Hopefully, cheering him on.

Instead of continuing to press her, Francis decided to let her lead the way in whatever relationship they would share, allowing her to go as far as she was comfortable. Unfortunately, it seemed she was choosing the path of non-confrontation as she seemed sure that she would be leaving Edinburgh soon. Silly lass.

She went on as the tea cart was rolled over and she prepared cups for them both. "I had gotten to know James, Colin and Sean quite well, of course, these past two months, as we prepared their engagement. And Ilona and Coline are such sweet girls."

I cannot fathom that you have been so nearby for two months now and I was never aware, Francis lamented to himself. Such time wasted! If only he had known she was so close by all this time! Indeed, they might already be wed if he had known. Wed and able to confront Vanessa's bothersome presence as a united front. "They are good lads, both," he agreed, "but I will admit I do not know the Roper girls well. Their father has set a very nice dowry on them, however, and they are his only heirs."

"Indeed, but I don't believe that is why the boys married them. James is quite a rogue, I gather," Eve continued conversationally. "He is younger than Richard, I believe?"

Francis nodded, watching James flirt with Moira. James had quite a way with married ladies and bar maids. He never settled on any woman who might be tempted to consider him marriage material. It was surprising to see him flirt with an eligible deb, even if it was just Moira. Francis' history with his own wife had set most of his older brothers off the institution for a long while. He was not sure that James would ever overcome her influence. "He is a good man though."

"He does seem to be," she readily agreed. "I will admit I haven't had the opportunity to acquaint myself well with your other brothers yet. Tam, Ian, and Connor?" she asked pointing out into the room. "And Dorian? Am I right?"

Francis nodded. "Just so. Dorian leaves tomorrow to return to Cambridge so you might not have the opportunity to get to know him well just yet."

Connor MacKintosh noticed them, and Eve's gesture in his direction, and wandered over making a bow to Eve. "My pleasure, my lady."

"Very nicely done, Connor," Eve returned as he favored her with a mischievous grin. "I was just asking Lord Glenrothes about all his siblings," she explained, before an assumption could be made about their long conversation.

Connor thanked her as she poured a cup of tea for him as well, indicating that he should join them. "The unruly mob, you mean?" he jested as he sat on a nearby bench, flicking his coat tails out with some flair. "Alas, I am one of the younger lads with only Dorian coming between myself and the wee Heather Blossom," he admitted. Eve calculated that would make him around a score of years or just a bit more. Of all the MacKintosh brothers, Connor favored Francis the most. In fact, he looked so much like Francis had when she first met him that it made her heart skip a bit to even look at him.

"I must admit my curiosity," Eve inserted shaking the thought away, "why do you call Fiona 'Heather Blossom'?"

The two men chuckled and shared a look. Francis replied, "Because when she was a bairn and very temperamental, Father said once that she was as prickly as a new heather blossom before it bloomed. It stuck, I guess, as we all call her that. She can still be very prickly, as you may have gathered. In truth, she is quite spoiled."

Connor made a rude noise that indicated he thought it was an understatement. "I heard my name mentioned from across the room, Francis," Fiona said as she skipped over and plopped unceremoniously down next to the younger MacKintosh brother. "What were you referring to?"

"Simply what a prickly child you are," Connor told her, tugging her ribbons.

"I am not a child anymore, Connor!" she protested with a stamp of her foot, while her hands flew to her hair to contain the damage. "I am almost seventeen and Francis said I can make my debut next year."

Francis choked. "I said maybe!" he protested.

Fiona crossed her arms and gave him a look that Eve thought would cow a lesser man. Perhaps she had been spending too much time with Abby of late, Eve thought with an inner smile, handing the girl a cup of tea as well.

Francis made a quick recovery and changed the subject nicely before Fiona could exact an immediate response from him. "Heather Blossom, Lady Shaftesbury was bragging the other day about her skill on the links."

The girl was easily diverted by what was apparently a favorite subject. "Perhaps we should make up a foursome then!" Fiona offered. "We could take the train up one day this week and make a day of it."

"That sounds lovely."

"I should warn you though, my lady, I am quite good as is Francis. He's a member of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club at St. Andrew's, you know."

"I did not," Eve glanced at Francis with all the appropriate awe that Fiona seemed to think that information required. His eyes returned the humorous sparkle.

"What of me?" Connor asked offended.

"Well," Fiona reluctantly allowed, "Connor is not too bad either."

"You have me quite cowering in my boots, Lady Fiona," Eve returned seriously, though her eyes twinkled to Francis.

"You know, Lady Shaftesbury," Fiona offered as she studied the countess. "You don't seem to be at all like the stick I imaged you to be, given what I had heard."

"Fiona!" Francis choked on his own tea and stared at his sister in astonishment.

"Well, she doesn't," his sister defended. She glanced over at Eve. "It is a compliment, you know."

"If that's a compliment, you need to go back to school," Francis growled.

"Indeed," Connor agreed, though his eyes were dancing.

Fiona shrugged and turned her attention to Eve. "Truly though, you seem more approachable today than at the castle, perhaps it was just the pressure of planning the ball and all that. I haven't seen you smile a single time before now, you know."

Eve opened her fan and waved it casually, staring back at Fiona. "No, I did not know. I'm sorry if I had offended."

"Offended me?" she laughed. "Never! I just like to be around people who are cheerful and happy. I can see I was wrong about you before. At least you are nothing like Francis' damned wife."

"Fiona!" Both Connor and Francis chastised her now as she gazed innocently back at them.

"Well, she's not!" A look of guilt took over her features then, and she turned with concern back to Eve. "I'm sorry, my lady, did you not know Francis was once married? I am so sorry. Not many people remember, despite what he thinks. But he's divorced from her now, so it's alright."

"I knew," Eve whispered, half in horror, while the other half was nearly hysterical with the blunt honesty of the girl. And she had thought herself to be forthright at that age! She'd had nothing on Fiona MacKintosh.

Fiona waved her tea cup in the air before taking a sip. "Well, worry not, my lady. Nessa is the veriest bitch anyone has ever met. You needn't worry how you compare."

Francis swallowed the rest of his tea in a single swallow and motioned to a footman for something stronger. A man could be driven to drunkenness when dealing with his sister, he thought, and soon there would be no stopping her! "Blossom, my dear, I am sure there must be another topic that would be more pleasant."

"I hardly think so," Eve teased him. In truth, it was a relief to hear that no one thought well of Francis' wife. It made it much easier to consider their situation with that knowledge at hand. The possibility of a tryst she once intended to avoid by a hasty retreat back to England. Now Francis's return to Edinburgh carried her thoughts off again on a tangent of desire versus propriety.

"Enough, you two," Francis frowned fiercely, and received no grander response than raised eyebrows from the ladies.

Fiona sighed and conceded. "Oh, very well! Tell me, my lady, have you ever played St. Andrews before?"

"No, I haven't," Eve responded conversationally with a wink to Fiona. "Please tell me what one may expect."

"Well, they are still working on the New Course so it isn't open yet, but the Old Course..." And off the girl rambled, filling the remainder of the evening with what was clearly a favorite topic.

# Chapter 25

"I have been noticing these last several days how Francis looks at you," Moira commented playfully, as she and Eve rocked Abby's twins in the nursery a few mornings later. "All the hot looks and long, whispered conversations... Even when you were amid Connor and Fiona the other night, it was as if all you saw was each other."

Though Francis had elected to keep his distance, respecting her choice to maintain a more friendly relationship, he had Eve sent flowers each morning with a note requesting a ride through the park, which they did daily. He took her to the botanical gardens and on a tour of Edinburgh Castle. When he joined them for dinner each evening, he could not control the way his eyes followed her, nor could she stop watching him with equal intensity. When they went out to the theater or assembly, however, Francis managed to maintain a façade of polite courtesy as she had asked, but marked with enough interest that a casual observer might think that the earl was courting her. It seemed that others had noticed. "I don't know what you mean..." Eve murmured dismissively.

"Lud, Evie, don't pull that social camouflage on me," her friend scolded. "I've known you since you were fourteen years old. Besides," Moira winked conspiratorially, "Kitty to wrote to me all about how she caught you kissing Francis in his grandmother's garden, years ago."

Deep red color infused Eve's face. "Moira!"

Moira continued to rock wee Bryn thoughtfully. "Who knows what might come of it? When true love is at stake..."

Eve snorted at her friend's flowery prose. "Francis is not serious in his intentions and I know I would never marry again anyway. It is a mild flirtation, nothing more," Eve protested. Give over control of her every thought and action again? Doubtful! "Besides, we must be leaving to go home soon if you'd like to make a showing for the Season."

"Well, maybe you should just have a brief love affair then."

"Moira MacKenzie! How can you say such a thing?" Eve was shocked that her friend would even think such a thing, much less mention it aloud.

Moira laughed at Eve's outrage. "So you haven't thought on it?"

"Of course not! It wouldn't be–"

"Proper?" Moira interrupted. "Maybe not, but think on this, Eve. When he kisses you... er, he has kissed you, yes?" Eve nodded jerkily. "Well, I'd wager, being a MacKintosh lad as he is, it was wonderful. Yes?" Eve's cheeks flushed, which was answer enough for Moira. "Then think, how wonderful would it be to do even more with him?"

Images swam through Eve's mind. Visions of his big, muscular body pressed against hers. Of his mouth on hers, his hands touching, caressing. Moira chuckled as Eve's light blush turned into a full flush. "There you are then. Think on that and see where it takes you."  
"It is completely improper to be having such a discussion with an unmarried woman," Eve said primly.

"Well, don't discuss then, but keep thinking about it and then think about how much you'd regret it if he were gone, or you left before you had a chance to do something about it." She glanced up slyly. "Think about his big townhouse, how empty it is since his brothers and Fiona left for Glen Cairn this morning. All alone in that big house..."

Images and emotions flowed through Eve. The very thought that she was considering it!

"You are Satan's messenger, Moira MacKenzie. No doubt about it."

"No doubt."

When the ladies were finally released to the sitting room after dinner that night, Eve breathed a sigh of relief. Francis had again joined them for dinner even though his siblings had gone back to Glen Cairn. Jack was out for the evening, leaving just Richard, Abby, Moira and her aunt to keep a barrier of comfort between Eve and Francis. The small numbers couldn't buffer the tension between them. Through the meal he had teased and tweaked her at every opportunity. Touching her hands, her waist, he had even gone so far as to kiss the side of her neck when he bent over to seat her. When she had reprimanded him for it, he had simply stated that he could barely keep his hands or mind off her.

He wanted her, he made that obvious, as surely as she wanted him. Was there any doubt he had come back to Edinburgh to complete his seduction? Despite his assurance that he would not do so, he might attempt an affair before she was gone. But, ahh, the question! Did she want him badly enough to become his lover?

She pondered that question as she, Abby, Moira and Edith took tea in the parlor. Since most everyone had departed during the day, the room was no longer filled with the boisterous conversations of many overlapping one another, but rather the quiet tones of her dearest friends.

The gentlemen would return soon, and Eve knew she had little time for consideration before Francis continued his assault on her senses.

Abby drew Eve into the conversation she and Moira were engaging in. "So, Moira tells me you called her Satan's messenger today, Eve."

"Indeed, I did," Eve replied cautiously, sipping her tea. "And did she tell you why?"

"Indeed, I did," Moira teased. "I told her all about how you should fall into Francis' arms and become his lover."

"Moira!" Eve hissed, and looked over at great-aunt Edith dozing by the fire. "Shush!"

Both of her friends laughed aloud to her further discomfiture. "Abby! How can you not be appalled by such a suggestion?"

Abby patted her hand as she continued to chuckle. "I am sorry for laughing, dear. But the Eve Preston I know would and should laugh as well."

"Things have changed." Eve struggled with herself, wanting to shake off the cloak of perfection and be her true self once more, yet was unable to or perhaps feared what such a reversal would mean to her.

"Then they should change back," Abby stated firmly. "William is gone. The person he molded you into was never truly you. Eve Preston concerned with what is proper? It's not you, and you know it!"

Eve's deepest fear prompted her to whisper, "What if I cannot? What if my old self is lost?"

"It's not, dear," Moira said matter-of-factly. "You've peeked out a few times this week. Mostly, I might add, in the company of Francis MacKintosh. He's good for you, you know?"

"And you are good for him," Abby added.

Eve frowned at Abby. "What do you mean, Abby?"

Abby took her time sipping her tea. "The Francis MacKintosh I have seen this week is not one I have seen in many years."

"Not since we were girls," Moira added.

"In what way?" To her mind he hadn't changed one whit since she had met him years ago. Certainly he was more mature, but still the teasing, humorous man she had met years before.

Her friends passed a significant look before Abby answered. "The Glenrothes we know has long been a very bitter man, Eve. He has suffered in his marriage for reasons that I believe he might have told you about. He has turned that suffering into acrimony for almost all women, a lack of faith in love and fidelity which led to self-imposed isolation and general nastiness of character. But this week..."

"He's been so carefree," Moira told her.

"Happy," Abby added. "Relaxed, engaging, humorous. It is all because of you."

"Me?" Eve squeaked.

"Yes, and I think that there was much more to your initial meeting all those years ago than you have ever let on," Moira pried with obvious relish. "Much more than a kiss in the garden, wasn't it? Did you...?"

"No!" Eve blushed hotly. "Nothing like that! It's just that when I met him, I knew... I can't explain it."

"You don't have to," Abby told her squeezing her hand. "If there is one thing that Moira and I can both understand, it is falling in love at first sight with a MacKintosh man."

"I'm not in love with him!" Eve protested, and when her friends rolled their eyes, insisted, "I'm not! I don't want to be!"

"Sometimes it isn't about what you want," Moira whispered in a confidential fashion.

"You are good for each other," Abby agreed. "You've talked to him, Eve. Understood him. You are so good together. Each of you makes the other contented. It surrounds you when you are close and is so obvious to those who care for you. There is so much more between you to be discovered. Embrace it! Normally I would not condone, much less encourage, such behavior. However, I believe you and Francis need each other and will be all the better for it."

But could it be so simple? She very much feared it was.

# Chapter 26

Moira yawned hugely a short while later and made her excuses, rousing her aunt from her nap and leading her upstairs. Abby also left the room, promising to waylay her husband and to give Eve a chance to talk to Francis alone. Trying to clear her mind of the question that nagged at her, Evelyn stood before the fireplace, staring up at a large portrait of Francis and his brothers as young boys with an older man and lovely woman that she assumed were his parents. Eve studied Francis' father trying to decide why he would press Francis into marrying at such a young age a girl who, though equal in years to Francis, would have been much more mature at eighteen than he. Idly, she wondered what his former wife looked like.

What to do? Her mind warred with her heart. On the one hand, Eve was certain it was in her best interest to avoid any further entanglements with Francis. Such evasion would protect not only her reputation but her heart. If she had thought a couple of days ago that she just might simply return to England with her heart intact and this time with the earl but a pleasant memory, she had been fooling herself. Eve knew now that she would carry him with her always, would forever wonder what might have come if she had surrendered to him. Whether such submission would make things worse for her when the end did come between them, she knew not. But it crystallized in her mind then that she would be more a fool not to have what she might of him while she could. In her soul, she knew that any time spent with a man such as Francis MacKintosh would bear no regrets.

Even though the silence of the room was unchanged, Eve knew the moment he entered the parlor behind her. Francis. The air became charged with electricity and awareness. His body behind her became a physical pressure, even when he was several feet away. Her own body tensed in response. Waiting. She was not disappointed.

Francis leaned toward her from behind and breathed in the compelling scent of her perfume. That exotic fragrance, a blend of soft, sweet vanilla, oak moss and jasmine as well as fruity notes of fresh citrus and orange flowers, was a memory in itself.

Hypnotic. Romantic. Seductive.

His fingers savored the silky feel of her bare arm as his hand slid from her shoulder and down the length of her arm to take her hand. A memory of that moment eight years before haunted the corners of his mind and for a moment he could almost smell the flowers of his grandmother's garden and hear the distant melody of the orchestra. The rush of feeling that gripped his chest made him close his eyes to hold that moment forever.

Though Eve flinched slightly at the initial contact, the familiarity of his touch brought a charge of feeling to her as well. For years she had remembered it, dreamed of it and longed for it. As she closed her eyes, she wondered if she wanted it so badly she could have manufactured this moment.

His fingers caressed hers and entwined. His breath whispered against her ear, "Where did everyone go?"

"They've retired for the evening, I believe. Francis..." She breathed his name, barely a sigh. With an internal moan of surrender, Eve leaned back against his chest as he bent his head to inhale the fragrance of her hair. "Eden, my sweet Paradise," he whispered, before caressing her neck with his lips. Eve gloried in the rush of heat that cursed through her. She knew it was wrong but perhaps for just one small moment....

From the upper gallery that overlooked the parlor, Moira watched as Francis stepped behind her friend and took her hand. She saw the look on his face and hers as they touched. It was as if time had suspended them. She could fairly feel the emotion pouring from each of them. She felt like an intruder just for witnessing their union of hands. Though they made no move to touch each other beyond the entwined fingers, their expressions were both savoring and longing. In that instant, she wondered what it would be like to feel so much at one time and have it be returned. It made her remember things that were best left behind, but envy touched her for just a moment. Then she wondered again if it would be worth it.

"Moira," Abby's whispered words interrupted her thoughts. "Come away now."

"Are you sure this isn't all wrong, Abby?" Moira questioned, for even though she had encouraged Eve to madness, she knew Abby to be more conservative in her views. But to her surprise, Abby shook her head.

"If either one of them finds happiness for even a moment, I will be happy for them," Abby whispered. "She is a good woman who could use a good man, and he is a good man who was saddled with the wrong woman for much too long."

"She'll never do it though. She's changed," Moira worried. The Eve of today was nothing like the girl she had known years ago. She was withdrawn, reserved. Moira so longed for her to come out of her shell and return to the vibrant, brash American girl she used to be.

"She'll never do anything if we interrupt."

"We've encouraged her all we can to seize the moment," Moira whispered back. "All we can do is hope that they succumb to it."

"What do you know of succumbing, Moira MacKenzie?"

"Well there's not much to do at home other than read, and I've found some very good books of late." Moira waggled her brows. "Come, let me show you."

Francis turned Eve in his arms and looked down into her face. "Open your eyes."

Eve shook her head. "I cannot. Sometimes with you I feel as if I am living a fairytale, all the while knowing there will be no happy ending."

"We can make our own happy ending, my love."

There was such certainty in his voice that Eve looked up and stared into the mossy green depths of his eyes. Her chest clenched almost painfully as the emotion she found in them overwhelmed her bringing tears to hers. "Francis..." Eve smiled softly up at him, her hands slid up his chest and around his neck and finally she gave in and embraced him, fully pressing her body to his. He gathered her up to him, his embrace tighter than her corsets ever had been. When she squealed, he swung her around in a small circle with a laugh and set her back on her feet.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For showing me once more the lass I met so long ago."

"I did not realize she was hiding," she said in automatic denial.

"Did you not?" Francis shook his head as she started to reply. "You have been different. I know I did not have much, hardly any, time with you years ago, but I knew you. So full of life, passion, spit and fire. I knew it was still there, but repressed. All week I've been trying to tease you out of that shell and tonight as I look at you, there you are. The light is back in your eyes." He caressed her cheek. "What has changed?"

"Good friends said something that made me think," she replied honestly. "Something that could probably translate as 'life is for the living'."

"An excellent motto," he commented lightly, bending his head to nuzzle the side of her neck and feeling her responsive shudder at the light touch.

A big, warm hand cupped the bottom of her breast, sending a shiver of excitement through her. "I haven't really lived these past many years."

"Nor have I." Not until the moment I saw you once more. He pulled back and looked down at her. "Are you not going to push me away as you have done all week? Slap my hands and tell me to mind myself?"

"Surprisingly, I don't think so." She teased his earlobe with a finger. "Do you want me to?

"Not surprisingly, I don't think so," he admitted with a shaky laugh. The parlor was very warm. Too warm, Francis thought, fingering his tight collar as a thin sheen of sweat moistened his skin.

He was alone with her. Where was everyone anyway?

Alone with her.

Francis thought of his resolve to hold his seduction for the time being. To court her slowly. But he was alone with her, as he hadn't been able to be the entire week. The reality echoed through his mind. Alone. The realization kept pumping through his already heated veins. God, he wanted her. More than that, he needed her. Not only physically. He needed her to realize that marriage, specifically with him, could be full of promise. Their salvation.

Just as he needed to recall his plan to win her over. But whether she knew it or not, the look in her eyes was frankly inviting and even warmer than the room. Suddenly he couldn't stand to be so close to her. If he got too close, there was no telling what he would do. He meant to court her at leisure not ravage her into submission! "We shouldn't be here alone..." Francis swallowed deeply knowing he couldn't tell her what he really wanted. He knew her values weren't just going to fall away, that she would never become a man's mistress. And she wasn't yet ready to become his wife. "Eden–" He paused, loving the feel of her name on his lips. He said it again. "Eden..."

She swayed before him. "Yes?" Every nerve in her body was alive and waiting. Waiting for what? He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and suddenly she knew. She wanted those hands, those big wonderful hands on her. She wanted him in a way she had never known a woman could want a man. This was desire. She wanted him and desired him...badly! And as much as she knew he wanted her, he would never make a definitive move to bed her. He had said he would not seduce her and she knew him well enough to know the first move would have to be hers. She fisted her hands uncertainly. What to do?

Not giving herself a chance to question or deny the feelings or to alter her conclusion, she leaned even farther toward him and he leapt away so abruptly she nearly fell. He jumped back and paced the room. Her eyes followed him watching as the muscles in his legs rippled with each step beneath his breeches. She loved to watch him. Admire him. She had been watching him all week in spite of herself and had become very familiar with the movements of his body. He rubbed his palms down the front of his pants. He was nervous, she realized vaguely. How cute. A slight smile tilted the corner of her lips. The mouse decides she wants to play with the cat and now the cat doesn't know what to do, hmmm?

"I should leave you to retire, I suppose..." He turned on his heel, his long stride taking him out of the room and into the hall to the base of the sweeping staircase.

Evelyn ran quickly to catch up with him catching him by his arm. "But, Francis...."

"No, I do not want you to feel pressured to do anything rash, Eden. Anything that you'll regret."

She slid an arm over his shoulder and pulled his lips to meet hers in a warm, lustful kiss full of passion and promise. For an instant her trembling body melted against his in longing. His hands gripped her hips tightly and pulled her to him roughly before he stepped away. Too late, though, Evelyn had felt his passion and knew he desired her as acutely as she wanted him. "Perhaps we should retire to a room with a bit more privacy and find out what I won't regret."

"This isn't what you want, Eden," he rasped hoarsely.

"Isn't it?" she whispered her voice more seductive than she realized.

"It isn't what I want," he amended. Indeed he wanted more. So much more.

"Isn't it?" she taunted with an alluring smile. Eve realized she felt strangely powerful in that moment. She was in control in a way that she had never experienced. It was intoxicating to know that she had the choice where before she never had. In itself, it was a potent aphrodisiac.

Trailing her hand down his arm, she clasped his hand in hers. Staring directly into his eyes, she stepped away from him. Back another to the base of the stairs and at arm's length. Still another and their hands loosened. Stepping onto the bottom step, she smiled and let go of his hand. Turning her back to him and chancing that he wouldn't run, Evelyn climbed slowly up half way. She cast a look over her shoulder and found him poised with a foot on the lowest step and a hand on the banister.

"Eden, I'm trying," he tried to reason with her and with the inner battle between body and mind. He was resisting for her, wasn't he? Reason seemed to have abandoned him. "Please..."

"Yes, please," she returned in a low voice and continued to the top of the stairs.

Francis watched her climb, her tournure and all the fabric that trailed up and over it swishing provocatively behind her. The sway of her bottom mesmerized him and knew he was totally lost. He'd tried to fight this for her sake, for propriety's sake. But...if she wanted him! The blood roared through his veins. By God she would have him as he would have her!

Taking the stairs two at a time like an exuberant schoolboy, he caught her at the top and swung her into his arms. Looking down into her surprised face, he grinned devilishly. "You did say please."

Evelyn threw her arms about his neck and hung on as he carried her to her room. "I'll have to remember how well you respond to that word in the future."

# Chapter 27

She was actually a bit nervous herself, Eve admitted inwardly as Francis carried her down the hall. Not only did she fear taking their relationship to the bedroom on purely moral grounds, but, in spite of her bold invitation, her experience in the bedchamber was minimal at best. Encounters with William had always been brief, dispassionate and often uncomfortable. She had never actually wanted to make love before. The aching in her body this past week told her that there had to be more than she had previously experienced. How could there not? Oh she wished, hoped it would be so!

Locking her bedchamber door behind them, Francis caught her in his powerful arms and drew her to him for a deep kiss that she felt to her toes. His hands fluttered up her back and it took her a moment to realize that he was undoing the trail of buttons to her gown. It fell first to her hips then he pushed it down until it dropped to the floor. Turning her in his arms, he nuzzled her neck while he worked the ties of her long corset until it too dropped with a solid thump. Turning back to face him, Eve backed slowly away holding his gaze with hers as she nervously pushed the straps to her chemise off her shoulders and shimmied it off .

As her flesh was revealed bit by bit, Francis' blood roared in his ears. Her flesh was creamy white, her breasts full over a tiny waist. His eyes wandered over the flair of her hips and down those long legs. She was a goddess and his eyes worshipped her.

His raised his eyes back to her and Eve could read the appreciation and heat there. A shiver of satisfaction went through her that she could please and arouse him so and her nervous tension eased. Reaching the bed, she perched on the edge and bent to remove her stockings, her eyes still locked with his, now enjoying his reactions.

It had been on the tip of Francis' tongue to ask Eve to leave her stockings on until she started sliding them slowly down her legs. As he watched their slow descent, his mouth went dry and he was entranced. Eve was a tall woman, well-toned from her athletic activities and those long legs just seemed to go on forever. He couldn't wait to have them wrapped around his hips.

Eve watched as he prowled slowly toward her shedding his tie and jacket as he came. The flickering firelight played sensually over the contours and hollows of his thick, muscled torso as he pulled his shirt over his head. Her breath caught with wonder at the beauty of his muscular physique as the heavy muscles on his chest and arms bunched and flexed. She shivered as she imagined rubbing her cheek, pressing her lips to the hard ridges of his stomach.

Francis was watching her as she studied him, he saw a range of emotion and feeling cross her wide eyes until they became a hazy green with sheer lust. Francis felt a shiver run up his spine as his own lust rose to match hers. He wanted her. So much so, he simply couldn't believe it. She heated his blood in a way he'd never thought possible. He moved closer to stand over her but her eyes did not rise to his. Instead they remained trained on his bare stomach. His muscles tensed as he felt her visual caress. Her slender hand rose as if by its own will and a single finger drew a light, teasing line down the center of his abdomen to his navel. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she began to lean forward. His heart pounded so wildly in anticipation that he could see his own chest move with the intensity of it.

Evelyn's hands moved to the sides of his hips as if to hold him there should he attempt to move away. Move away! As if he could move away even if his life depended on it! Her head tilted up, her chin resting on his stomach as she smiled seductively up at him. A moment later his unfastened trousers dropped low on his hips clinging there as she spread the fabric to reveal more of him.

Eve knew she was tormenting her earl as his breath grew ragged and his muscles tensed. Waiting. With one last smile, she turned her head to the side and rubbed her cheek against the flat rippling muscles thinking his stomach much like the washboard the laundress used with its dips and ridges. She continued to rub her cheeks, first one and then the other, against the washboard plains of his stomach marveling at the hardness she found there, the heat that radiated from him and the furious pounding of his heart that moved his whole body. She could feel his body shake. Lord, he was trembling! An answering quiver shook her body.

"Eden...my God," he groaned throwing back his head and diving his hands into her lustrous honey-gold hair sending the pins flying as the silken mass dropped heavily over his arms and down her back.

Turning her head, she pressed a warm kiss just above his navel, her hands curling at his sides. Her heart picking up in tempo, she traced a wet line along the muscle strands back and forth, tasting. When her hand slid up to cup him, he pulled back with a low hiss.

Eve looked at him once more her lips wet and parted in silent invitation.

Without a word, Francis pushed her onto her back. His kisses were anything but sweet and gentle now. His lips ravaged hers passionately nipping, biting and threatening to devour her whole while his hands roamed down kneading her hips and legs parting them so that he could press himself against her center. His teeth and lips trailed down her neck to her breast playing the same ravaging game on their sensitive peaks.

Gasping in surprise, Eve arched mindlessly under his touch. If he were anything but gentle it was because she drove him to it. She was in awe of her power to drive him to this state of ardor where he was so lost in need that even thoughts of tenderness did not soften his touch. Eve didn't care, she gloried in it, this possession of her body that wasn't at all a punishment.

"My God, Eden," his husky brogue caressed her, "How I want ye. I want to take ye. I want to be inside ye so fooking badly."

A shudder ripped through Eve at these words. Her arms wrapped tightly about him encouraging him to act. Still he lingered, moved lower, his lips and tongue trailing roughly across her stomach. Playing her own game, he rubbed his whiskered face against her stomach from side to side. With a deep moan, Evelyn buried her hands in his hair and pulled urging him up and over her, but still he lingered and moved lower still.

"Francis?" The confused question came panting from her lips. "What?"

"Trust me, my paradise." His rough tongue licked at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh and higher, parting her and taking her most sensitive flesh into his mouth. Eve reared off the bed with a harsh cry that was nothing like anything his proper lass had ever uttered before as she pulled at his hair to push him away. To pull him closer. He licked again and circled the little bud back into his mouth before tormenting her with his tongue once more. A shudder racked her body as she arched helplessly with another cry. And another as he went on roughly tonguing her, suckling until she was sobbing with need then her thighs tensed signaling her impending release.

"Francis," she panted breathlessly. "Please!"

With a strangled groan at the word, he shed his trousers with a kick before he moved his massive body over her, hooking her leg with his arm until her knee was pressed against her chest before he drove into her with all the intensity of feeling and emotion that was flowing through him taking her mouth once more in a kiss hot and wet.

Evelyn gasped into his mouth in astonishment and delight as he filled her. Their eyes met for a moment acknowledging in the wonder of his possession before he began to move within her. Her last coherent thought was that she was going to die from the sheer ecstasy of it and that she would not mind dying like this. Francis did not let up. He drove into her with long powerful strokes, rhythmically pounding down into her over and over. Evelyn was nearly crying with the intensity of it as tension rebuilt at her core and reached its tendrils down her inner thighs, her every breath a sob of joy and passion begging him to stop, begging him to go on and on forever.

She wrapped her long legs around him and locked him tight as his rhythm increased. Her hands flexed with every stroke of his body over her, her fingernails biting into the flesh of his back and his buttocks. Francis thrust into her savagely again, his whole body shaking. Eve's muscles clenched in answer. She threw back her head and screamed her release into the room. Francis joined her in ecstasy, his face buried in her throat to muffle his own cry of release.

He collapsed on top of her and together they lay in awe of what had just happened between them.

Francis could feel her legs shaking around him and knew an instant of remorse. He tried to roll off of her but she held him tight to her. "Eden, how utterly graceless of me," he pulled again to get off of her. This time she let him go and he turned onto his side next to her. His eyes ran the length of her body as she lay there unmoving. "God, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"What?" Evelyn asked, her eyes wide with surprise. That was the last thing she had expected him to say. How could he possibly think that that had hurt? Lying back, she curled her arms over her head and stretched her body feeling the tiny twinges, wonderful twinges all the way to her toes.

"I am a big man, Eden, heavy as well. You are..." Francis lost track of his question as he beheld her naked beauty before him. Reaching out, he ran his rough hand down the length of her from breast to thigh trailing over her smoothly rounded hips with lingering appreciation. "Oh, this is truly paradise."

Evelyn laughed huskily and turned toward him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her body to the length of his. In response, he reached about and cupped her buttocks pulling her tightly against him and rolling them both over until she lay on top of him.

Her thick hair spilled a curtain surrounding her face. She looked mussed and heavenly. Perfect.

Emotion made his brogue become noticeably thicker, just as it had when he'd made love to her whispering words of passion and love. "I dinnae mean tae be so rough wi' ye. I dinnae ken what came over me... ye drove me wild. I've never been so..." he fell silent at a loss for words.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his chest. "I wouldn't change a thing..."

"Och," he argued, "I showed no finesse at all, no tenderness merely fell on ye like some ravaged beast. You must think I'm a terrible..."

"I think that I have never beheld such an amazingly passionate man in all my life," she interrupted firmly holding his cheeks in her hands and forcing him to meet her gaze. "I have never felt anything so marvelous in all my days. Though I will say I might feel as though you beat me in the morning," she teased. Smiling brightly, she kissed the underside of his chin.

"Apparently, you deserve to be beaten." He spanked her bottom playfully, then wrapped his arms about her pressing his lips to the top of her head. He sighed. "This just wasn't how I imagined our first time together to be."

"How did you imagine it?"

"Much slower."

"I liked it how it was," she snuggled against him, lightly nipped at his furry chest, curling her fingers in the springing curls and feeling utterly content. Laughing with pure happiness, Evelyn raised herself up on her elbows and looked down at him, her eyes warm and loving.

"I never knew what this could be like, Francis," she confessed. "So overwhelming and thrilling. I'll admit that after I first met you I had thoughts of how it would be, but when I married, it was never like this. It was five minutes of mortification and discomfort."

"And we made it, what? Seven minutes?"

A smile jerked at the corner of her lips. "But it was a vital two minutes."

Francis clapped his hand playfully on her bottom. "I would like to say that your husband was probably just a selfish pig but, my paradise, what we feel is special. It is different. Overwhelming. You and I are electric together and the things we make each other feel are definitely not normal but extraordinary and spectacular. You set me afire, so beautiful, my sweet Eve. I fear that I did not show much grace either." His voice was low, husky and warm as he ran his hands again up and down the length of her back. "I know you haven't much to compare with, but it should have been much better!"

"Better? You mean you didn't..." she frowned, pulling away.

Francis grabbed her tightly. "Don't be ridiculous. It doesn't get any more satisfying than that. I just wanted..." he groaned into her hair as he gathered the long golden length and pulled it all over one of her shoulders baring one side of her neck. Francis raised a handful of hair to his lips and rubbed it across them slowly all the while staring into her shining grass green eyes and knowing that they shone with love... for him...whether she acknowledged it or not.

With a groan of unbelievable satisfaction, he closed his eyes and held her hand to his cheek with his own big hand over hers. "I just wanted it to be romantic and special for you. Perfect."

"Ohhh," Evelyn nodded with a little grin. "Special. Romantic. Why don't you show me how you wanted it to be?"

"But..." No matter what she said, she would be sore.

"Show me, Francis," she whispered kissing his neck lightly. "Show me, please..."

With a low moan of surrender, Francis swept her into his arms capturing her lips in a deep, lustful kiss that left her breathless even as their passionate fervor rose once more. Lifting her with one arm about her waist, he twisted, laid her back on the bed and stopped to stare at her. She lay there with a smile, her arms open to him. "Eve," he groaned closing his eyes... taking a deep breath to regain his control. "I can't be romantic yet."

Evelyn caught his hand and pulled him down on top of her. Already he was hard and throbbing, ready for her.

"Eden, I can't...wait," he buried his face in her hair, his hands moving wildly over her hips and legs. "God, help me. I can't believe this!" He pulled back and looked into her glowing eyes. "I want you. I must have you." Each word came out with low panting intensity.

"Then take me, my lord. Take me," she whispered pulling him down to her. "We can try for romance another time."

With another deep moan, Francis moved between her parted thighs and thrust into her again. To his surprise, she was ready for him and incredibly hot. "Paradise, sweet paradise. My Eden," he moaned over and over as he thrust into her roughly, her passion matching his until they were swept together once more to their own paradise.

Francis lay on top of her for a long while, his cheek pressed to her breasts listening to the deep pounding of her heart. Listening to it finally slow until he thought she was asleep. "Eden?"

"Mmmmm?" she hummed in response, her fingers moving to toy with his thick hair.

"I...I don't think I ever want to move from here," he changed what he was thinking.

"So don't."

He hugged her tightly. "You are truly my paradise."

"As you are mine."

# Chapter 28

"Love and scandal are the best sweeteners of tea."

Henry Fielding, Love in Several Masques

Glenrothes Townhouse

Carlton Terrace

Edinburgh, Scotland

The next morning

"I've never before seen Francis lose his head like this over a mere woman. What a quandary he must be in! Lady Shaftesbury was back in town for just a few hours and already Francis has shown up here with enough luggage for an extended stay. The lady has surely gotten him by his bullocks." Jack Merrill folded his hands behind his head and chuckled devilishly. When Richard and Abby did not join him in his mirth, Merrill eyed them thoughtfully. "You do not see the humor in this?"

Richard frowned. "That Francis is head over arse in love for the first time in his entire life has its humorous merit. But it is who he is in that quandary over that worries me."

Jack scoffed at that. "The countess may lead him on a merry chase with her cold ways, but she'll eventually succumb."

"I imagine she already has." Richard quirked an eyebrow at his wife who in turn scowled at him darkly.

"MacKintosh didn't tell me any of that."

"He doesn't have to. He's got her. Now the question is what is he going to do with her if she won't marry him?"

"Just give her a fair go, I would imagine."

Abby gave her brother a disgusted look. "Jack Merrill, I will thank you not to refer to my very good friend in such a manner. Evelyn is not the cold, calculating woman you think her to be. She loves Francis, completely. Oh, pooh, she may not have admitted it yet, but it's there! And this! This situation here cannot do anything but seriously hurt her."

"How do you figure that?" he wanted to know. "MacKintosh'll kick Nessa out soon enough and then he and Lady Shaftesbury can carry on as they will."

"Except that Nessa is refusing to leave town and my brother will soon have a bloody hard time hiding it from Evelyn," Richard said. His brother had yet been unable to bribe the woman into leaving town once more. In fact, Vanessa currently had Francis cornered in the library just across the hall after she had shown up at his door again this morning with baggage in hand once and looking as if she intended to settle in for good. "It's as if his damned ex-wife could sense that something was going on and had to be here to ruin it," Richard felt that truth in the core of his being. The woman has always had a nose for trouble, sniffed out Francis' budding happiness and come to nip it straight away.

"He'll get her to leave," Jack waved away the problem dismissively.

"I hope so," the younger MacKintosh winced. "He hasn't been able to buy her off yet. I believe that the current offer is ten thousand."

"If I get rid of her for him," Jack pondered with a grin, "maybe he'll give me the money."

"Lovely, Jack," Abby snorted with some disgust. "You always know how to sniff out a pound. If he slips and tells her that he plans to remarry, there will be hell to pay."

"If he weds the countess and gets it done there won't be much for Nessa to say, will there?

Godfrey entered the room nervously. "Lady MacKintosh," he addressed Abby, "there is a small problem. Lady Shaftesbury has arrived."

"Eve is here? Oh dear." Abby shared a speaking glance with her husband and brother. "This is atrocious timing."

"She is asking to see Lord Glenrothes," Godfrey explained nervously. "Err, what shall I tell her as my lord is currently occupied?"

"We will go to her, Godfrey," Abby decided. "Where have you put her?"

"The morning room, my lady."

Evelyn arrived at the Glenrothes' townhouse that morning, breaking a major rule of etiquette to do it. Calling on a gentleman by herself in broad daylight without even a maid or groom to accompany her all because Francis had not shown up to take her riding as he had promised. She had waited nearly an hour before she had begun to worry and had spent a portion of the next debating whether it would be outside of enough to show up personally at his home. Surprisingly, the daring option had won out. If she were not so occupied with being horrified by her audaciousness, it might have felt good.

The door to the morning room opened and, to her surprise, Abby and Richard came in. "Abby! Whatever are you doing here? I had thought you were in the nursery with the girls."

"I...well, I was Eve, but I...uhh," her eyes darted to the closed doors of the library across the hall. "We came over to...uh, speak with Jack. Yes, that's it."

"Evelyn." Richard shifted from foot to foot stalling for time and wincing over his wife's poor acting skills. Their trio's task the past several days had been to keep Eve from finding out about Francis' current predicament. Unless he missed his guess, they were about to fail miserably. "What are you doing here?"

"Franc...uh, Lord Glenrothes was supposed to ride with me in the park this morning." She added this last with a flush of embarrassment. It was one thing to break a rule with a fair amount of secrecy and quite another to fully acknowledge it in open company. "When he was late I began to worry and thought I would come myself to see if anything was amiss. Is there anything amiss?"

"Evelyn, my darling," Jack swept in to her side and raised her hand to his lips. "Have you finally come to realize the error of your ways and know that a marriage to me is the path to your future happiness?" He made a dramatic bow and presses a hand to his chest. "For what other reason could you have for being here today? You have made me the happiest..."

"Oh, shut it, Haddington," Eve muttered as she yanked her hand away from him. "I have truly had enough of your drama to last my lifetime. I have come to speak to Lord Glenrothes."

"My lady, I am shocked," Jack stated melodramatically. "When I think that I have been thrown over for my closest friend..."

"Oh, shut it Jack," Abby resounded pushing him aside. "Eve, come sit down."

Eve allowed herself to be solemnly led to the settee and sat while the others all made themselves slowly comfortable. Too slowly. "Shall I ring for tea?" Abby asked.

"Well, this can't be good," Eve tried to joke. Their night together the previous evening had been beyond anything Eve had ever imagined possible and she had thought that Francis felt the same way but, in the face of her friends' troubled glances this morning, she was starting to rethink the whole thing. What if it hadn't been the same for Francis? What if he'd had enough of her and was simply trying to avoid her this morning? What if her friends knew and were merely trying to spare her feelings? A shudder of dread shot through her. "You are acting very strange. Is something wrong? Is Francis alright?"

"I doubt it," Jack murmured under his breath but loud enough for Eve to hear.

"What is going on?"

"Well, I...bloody hell," Richard muttered using one of his wife's favorite expletives and feeling it summed up the situation fairly well. Richard unconsciously looked to the library again and Evelyn's eyes followed his. Something was obviously going on given the uncharacteristic nervous behaviors displayed by the trio. "What is wrong, Richard?"

"Nothing's wrong, of course. My brother had a bit of unexpected business to take care of this morning. I'm sure he meant to send a note. Why don't we all head on to Moray Place, yes? I'm sure Francis will attend us when he's done here," he rose to his feet.

"Yes, indeed," Abby seconded and Jack chimed in, "Jolly good idea. Let me escort you to the door." He reached for her hand.

Breaking away, Evelyn eyed him in confusion. Needing to find out what was going on. "You are all being ridiculous! I want to see Francis."

"He's really not available right now..."

"Nonsense," she pushed past him and strode to the library doors. Flinging them open she sailed into the room only to be brought up short with a gasp of surprise at the scene she beheld. There was Francis standing in the center of the room holding a woman in his arms. A million surprisingly violent emotions flowed through her but, in a breath, training and manners took over and she retained her poise. "A long-lost sister, my lord? A cousin perhaps?" she questioned coolly though her heart was twisting in agony over this apparent confirmation of her fears.

"Eve! No, I..." he began moving toward her, the other woman grabbed his arm and pulled him back laughing in amusement.

"I didn't think so." Evelyn turned on her heel and fled the room darting past Richard and Jack. As she reached the door, she heard the woman's laughing voice. "Who was that, darling? One of your little tarts?"

Evelyn slammed the front door behind her and leaned back against it taking a deep breath. What was that? her mind screamed for reason. Who was that? Surely, after the night they had spent together – a night which had wrung all strength from her – Francis couldn't possibly already be turning to the arms of another woman!

Her mind racing with questions and rampant conclusions, Eve fairly leapt onto Angel and spurred him into a gallop leaving the groom who had been holding him with a face full of dust.

Francis glared at Vanessa as he heard the door slam. "You're the only tart I know," he answered tersely and flung her at Richard as she laughed. "Take care of her. I want her out of my house."

"But I'm your wife, darling," Vanessa drawled with a low chuckle.

"Ex-wife," Francis ground out his mind already racing to Eve and the conclusions that must be charging through her mind. He needed to reach her quickly.

"What do you want me to do with her?" Richard asked at the same time.

"Do you think I care? Just get rid of her!" Francis grabbed his jacket and strode to the door in pursuit of Evelyn. His only thought was for her.

As the door slammed again, Richard looked down at the woman he held. She looked back up at him with hot black eyes and leaned into him. Disgusted, Richard pushed her away.

"What do you think, darling?" she fingered his chin and laughed as he jerked away. "The master is away and it is time to play. All these years, Richard. What a handsome man you have become."

"You are vile, Vanessa," he stated bluntly.

"I am good, Richard. Very good," she trailed a finger down his chin but he pushed her away. "Come now, aren't tired of your pale little wife yet? Wouldn't you like to have a real woman?"

"Oh, bloody hell," Richard muttered holding her wrists in one hand and keeping her at an arm's length.

"I would suggest that you keep your hands off my husband," Abby's frosty voice garnered the woman's attention, "before I quite break your fingers myself."

"Touchy, touchy," Vanessa sniffed and gazed up at Jack from under her lashes. "How about you, Jack? Feeling up for a spot of fun?"

"Godfrey!" Jack bellowed grabbing the woman by the wrist and dragging along after him much to her amusement.

The dour butler appeared momentarily. "Yes, my lord?"

Jack pushed Vanessa at him wishing he could be amused by the shock on the old man's face. "Take this and see that it finds itself and its belongings at other lodgings immediately."

The old butler wrinkled his brow distastefully. "Right away, my lord. Come along, my lady."

"I have every right to stay here!" she argued with a stomp of her foot.

"Not while Glenrothes is the master here." Richard grabbed up his own coat and headed for the door. "See it done, Godfrey."

"Very good, my lord."

# Chapter 29

"Of all the rotten timing," Francis muttered as he rode after Eve down Prince's Street toward Moray Place. The traffic was heavy and it had taken so long to get a horse saddled he was sure Eve was long gone.

It had been a horrific morning thus far. After returning home from Eve's bed in the early hours, Glenrothes awoke to the news that Vanessa had arrived once more with her baggage. He had met her with every ounce of aristocratic disdain he could summon, trying to bargain a price for Vanessa's departure, without letting her know that he had more reason than ever to see her gone; without giving her ammunition to further ruin his life. She, in turn, had set up a tirade of protests before she had finally declared undying love for him and had flung herself at him just as Eve opened the door. Somehow he felt that there was no explanation that could cover the damage that moment had done. He should have told Eve the truth before, that Vanessa was back, that she was at his house. Instead, he had tried to cover it all up.

And the look on her face! Before her cool social mask had descended, Francis had seen her shock and pain. Pain that he never would dream of causing her.

Francis bound up the steps to his brother's townhouse and entered without bothering to knock at all. "Evelyn!" he bellowed at the foyer.

Hobbes moved in long strides to intercept him. "I am sorry, my lord, but Lady Shaftesbury is not receiving at present," the butler intoned imperiously.

Reaching the end of his tolerance for the old butler, Francis pointed a finger at the man. "Don't even think of it, man! I have already had enough of you!"

Moira emerged from the parlor and stared at him in disbelief. "Francis MacKintosh! Whatever is going on here? Are you responsible for the state Evie arrived in moments ago?"

"She's here then?" he asked in turn without bothering to answer the questions.

Moira, who had been worried for the past five minutes over Evelyn's tragic state, observed the same in the earl before her. His agitation and worry nearly matched Eve's when she had stormed through, begging to be left alone. "You've hurt her."

"I love her. You know that."

"Then fix it!" He was halfway up the stairs as her final word came out. He would make it better. He had to! Moira couldn't stand seeing her friend so upset.

Francis reached Evelyn's bedroom door and rattled the handle only to find it locked. "Evelyn!" he yelled. "Evelyn, open the door!" He pounded on the hard wood. "Come on, paradise! It's not what you think! Not at all." He spoke softly. "She not my mistress or anything like that. That was just Vanessa."

To his surprise, the door flung open and Evelyn stood before him, her eyes wide with disbelief and shooting sparks. "That was your wife? Well, thank goodness then! That makes me feel so much better."

Francis shrugged helplessly and failed to stop her as she slammed the door in his face and locked it again. He pounded on it again but failed even to rattle it. "What the hell is this thing made of?" He gave it one final fist. "Evelyn, come on! At least let me explain! Let me tell you the whole of it!"

"The whole of it, that your wife is back in your home and arms?"

"Ex-wife," he ground out.

"I should have known this would never work, Francis. It is beyond comprehension. As much as we would like, Francis," she responded to him angrily, "life does not begin with 'once upon a time'. Go home, before you ruin us both," she whispered through the door.

"My home is with you, sweet Eden." His heart ached so badly that he thought he might die from it. He pressed his palm to it and felt the dull thudding, knowing that he was losing the love of his lifetime. His soul mate. His own soul felt as if it were being ripped out. She was pushing him neatly away, as he had long known she would. It was a convenient escape for her. An opportune excuse. "No! I refuse to accept this! Now open this damned door and talk to me!"

"No."

"Damn it, Eve! Open this door or I'll..."

"Don't do it, Francis," she cut in. "Don't be that man I was married to. After all this, do not think for one moment that you can tell me what to do or threaten me."

"I was not trying to..."

"Yes, you were. It's the constitution of the male nature to think that the way they want things to be is the right way, the only way. Well, I have a right to have some things go my way as well. So please leave me alone." Leaning back against the door, she could feel him on the other side. Actually feel him. The pain in her tightened chest brought tears to her eyes. In becoming Francis' lover, Eve had taken a monumental leap forward, doing something merely for herself. It had taken a courage and disregard for the rules that might have crippled her a year ago. Indeed, if William were alive she would have been crucified. She felt she should be appalled for ever considering it. She should have known it wouldn't work out. But still.

Francis could hear her heartfelt sigh through the door. "This is madness, Francis. I should never have let it go so far. But you..."

He could hear the hesitation, the emotion in her voice. "I what, Eden?"

"You make me want things I know I can't have."

"You can, Eden. We can!"

"A part of me wanted to think so, but this! See how easily you can tear me up when you have made me so happy these past weeks." She shook her head against the door. "You shouldn't be able to do that to me. You shouldn't have that power. Just the sight of you two..."

"Forget that, think of us," he insisted. "Everything you think I do to you, you do to me tenfold. You make me incredibly happy with every moment we spend together," he assured her. "Happier than I have been in many, many years."

How could that not be true, Eve thought. She had heard enough tales of the misery his cheating wife had wrought over the years, the bitterness her behaviors had left in him. The divorce had freed him of her legally but had left scandal and social ruin for his family, which they were only just starting to conquer. Any happiness had to be greater than that.

"You make me happy as well," she admitted at length, before adding hesitantly, "I think... Abby says that we do it to each other."

"I've known that from the beginning, my love. We were meant for each other. I truly believe that and you know it as well. Now open the damn door," he commanded roughly. "Not because I'm telling you to but because you want to." The pause that ensued was so long, Francis thought his chest might burst with anxiety and anticipation. He fought his own instincts to force her to give in, but realized he would never come out the winner in that scenario. It had to be her choice. Hopefully, it would be the right one.

After a long, agonizing minute, Eve cracked the door open. Before her, down on his knee, was her handsome Scotsman. He held aloft a golden ring with a large diamond flanked by citrine. "You would make me even happier if you agreed to be my wife." His softly spoken words held a wealth of emotion. "My Eden, sweet paradise, will you marry me?"

Elation filled Eve's mind and heart, pushing aside the pain and confusion of the past hour as Francis held the ring out to her. He had asked her to marry him! Never, after hearing the stories of his marriage, had she ever dreamed he would enter into such a relationship again. Indeed, her friends had assured her that it was highly unlikely! But for her, he would dare to make the commitment once more. For her! Oh, her incredible man!

"Oh, Francis," she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood. He squeezed her tightly and nuzzled her neck.

"My Eden, my love," he whispered emotionally as he pressed kisses against her neck and nuzzled her ear. "Is that a 'yes, then?"

"Oh, Francis!" Eve leaned back in his arms to stare up into his eyes with a trembling smile. "No."

It took a moment for her words to sink in. He drew back with a frown. "What did you say?"

Eve sighed and stepped back. "I said no, Francis."

"No, as in 'no', I will not marry you?'"

"Yes, I won't."

"Well, why the bloody hell not?" His deep brogue pulled itself mightily to the forefront with his strong emotions and was so evident that for a moment Eve could barely understand him.

"I appreciate the offer, Francis, I do. It makes me so incredibly happy that you would ask," she tried to assure him.

"So happy that you won't say yes?"

"Francis, please try to understand..."

"Understand what?" he queried in disbelief. "Is it the divorce? The scandal? I had thought, since ye had considered it yerself before yer mangy husband died, that ye might be fine wi' it!"

"It's not the divorce." Eve shook her head in denial. A month ago, no, even a week ago, the idea of linking herself to such scandal would have been appalling, but now it seemed so easy to shrug such a minor thing away.

"Then what?"

"Perhaps we should have a seat?" Eve suggested and waved him into her room, closing the door behind him. There were two chairs arranged across from a settee, in front of the fireplace. Eve supposed she couldn't be angry that he chose a chair where she couldn't sit next to him. Hesitating only a moment, she sat on the settee opposite him and tried to formulate her thoughts. "You must realize, Francis, I have responsibilities to my son and the earldom that cannot be ignored..."

"Nice try, Eden." He dismissed her explanation before she even got going, rising to his feet to pace the room. "I will accept that you take your responsibilities as guardian seriously but that isn't the reason you are denying me. What is it?"

As he prowled restlessly, she realized how much she loved to watch him. The movements of his body were so fluid, the muscles of his back shifted and rippled under his shirt. Those in his arms and legs bunched beneath his clothing as he squatted before the fire and reached for a poker. She could watch him constantly and never tire of him, his graceful movements rare for a man of his size. He stirred the fire into a good blaze and stayed crouched there, encouraging the flames with the poker. The glow of the fire lit his face. So strong, so beautiful.

Her heart seized.

"Francis," she sighed longingly, "my God, how I love you..." The words popped out of her mouth before she had even realized they had formed. Not to her complete surprise, she realized the words were true. She had loved him from the moment she met him and that love had never faded over the years in between. It was as Moira had said. She could be forever without him and love him still with a depth of feeling different from the love she had ever borne for another. Francis had the love of her heart and her soul. It was complete, passionate and fulfilling love. She would do anything for him.

Absolutely anything.

How terrifying! She would give up her reputation just to engage in a scandalous affaire de coeur with him. Without thought or hesitation. Undeniably, she already had! Was it possible then, that she would even give control of her life to him? Would she really go so far as to marry? Just to be with him and make him happy?

How horrifying that she would even think of willingly putting herself under the thumb of another man! Never! Never again! She could not be owned. She would not allow herself to be legal property again. But, her heart called. She loved him, it plead pitifully. But adoring him so completely meant that if she lost herself to him, it would be her downfall and her salvation. Still, her life felt complete with him, her heart argued. She knew she could live without him, but did not want to. The internal conflict raged in her as her heart and head waged battle. "Oh, God, no," she moaned and began to cry.

Those first words of love had startled Francis so much he dropped the poker with a loud clang. His entire body tensed as she spoke them, a wonderful warmth filled him, flowing outward from his chest to every part of his body. She loved him! He knew she did, of course, she had shown him already in so many ways, yet it made him feel good, like a god in some ways, to hear it aloud. It also humbled him completely, knowing he had done nothing to deserve it.

He was about to admit this thought to her when he realized she was crying.

"Paradise?"

"I can't... I can't," she was sobbing, over and over. "I can't love you. I won't. Oh, Francis! I know you can't understand, but..." Eve trailed off.

"Love is a good thing, is it not?" Francis sat beside her on the settee and put an arm around her, comforting her as she wept. "Tell me, darling, tell me what has you so troubled."

"Eight years ago, this wouldn't have bothered me at all," she confessed. "I was a different person then."

"I know your marriage was not a good one...."

"It's not just that," Eve denied. "You can't comprehend the change that was forced upon me. My whole life, I did what I wanted. I went my own way. Then Da had me betrothed to Shaftesbury," Eve continued bitterly. "William never doubted he would get the prize, never asked whether I wanted to marry him. Did I tell you that? He never spoke to me about anything personal. I told you about our first dance? How I thought he looked so proud? You have no idea, Francis," Eve shuddered at the memories. "He spent the entirety of our marriage trying to mold me into his vision of the perfect wife, the perfect showpiece of his collection. I was just a thing to him! As perfect as his sculptures and paintings. He took away my choices, my free will! He took away all the things about me that I was proud of and made me into a shell of what I was! A perfect façade. I went from having control of my every choice to none at all! I never want to be put into that position again and loving you, even without marriage, allows you the power to do just that!"

Francis stroked her head as it rested on his shoulder. Her fear was obviously very real and he did not want to belittle it by dismissing those fears summarily. Clearly there was much more to her marriage that Eve wasn't sharing, but this was not the time for details. He'd had no idea how deeply it had scarred her. Shaftesbury was lucky he was dead or he would have suffered greatly at Francis' hands indeed. However, Eve also needed to realize that one man was not necessarily like another. "There is a difference between us, you know? I am not Shaftesbury. I am not a monster."

She pulled away and shook her head. "I know you are not, Francis, but to lose myself, to allow someone to have power over me again is terrifying! In marriage, a man has all the power. He is the master."

"But you are forgetting something, sweet Eden." He caressed her cheek lovingly before urging her to face him. "When it comes to people such as you and me, it is not a question of power. It is a question of love."

"A question of love?" she asked in confusion, not understanding his logic.

"Aye, my paradise, loving a person as they are." He dropped a feathery kiss on her lips, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "I do not want to change you, darling. I love the improper chit who bellowed her ire to all of Mayfair, the girl who plays chess and is proud of it, who challenges me at every turn and plays with worms with her son. And I don't want to rule that life. I want to share it with you, not take it from you."

"I couldn't stand to lose myself again, Francis. To lose my identity again. But I don't want to continue without you either." She buried her face in his shoulder and clung tightly to him, though his words had warmed her heart. He could feel the tremors rippling through her body and acknowledged that her fears, however unfounded, were very real. "I'm so scared, Francis."

"So am I, sweet paradise."

"You?" she sniffed, looking up into his deep green eyes. "Scared? Of what?"

Love, came his unspoken thought. To have found this woman once again and know his happiness rested with her. He did not want to become a hermit once more, didn't want to live a life of bitter reflection and cynicism. He feared not finding a way to keep her, lest he revert to that embittered existence. He could not lose her, this bit of paradise who had brought laughter and, yes, love into a life that had none. She was his. A gift he clearly did not deserve, but one he intended to keep. Talk about a person having power! Finally, he spoke. "Perhaps of the same thing you fear, my darling. Giving you power over me."

"How would I have power?" she asked, perplexed by his reasoning. "A man has all the power in marriage."

"But not all the power when it comes to the heart," Francis explained, trying to find the words to make her empathize. He knew that giving her understanding of his fears also risked her seizing that power, but he could not deny presenting his heart to her. "You have the power to destroy my life as well. You could have me under your heel in an instant. When a man loves a woman, all the power becomes hers."

"You love me?" Her head came up and her bright, tear glazed eyes stared directly into his darker ones.

"More than life itself," the instant response came with a smile.

"Really?"

"You know I do," he answered promptly. Francis stroked a hand down her throat, shoulder and down her arm until he reached her hand, which he clasped in his and pressed against his heart. "I am yours and completely at your mercy. You know it well. Don't you, Eden?"

She curled back up against his shoulder and stared into the flames, feeling secure and safe for the first time since the day she had married. "A part of me wants to," she confessed softly at length. "A very large part. The other parts want me to flee to safety."

"You can't run away from life, Eden. It will not chase after you. Live it with me." Francis spoke brushing his lips against the top of her head. "Be my love, knowing I've never loved another."

"Oh, Francis," she sighed. Her heart begged her to embrace all he offered.

For a long moment they simply sat entwined together, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and new love. Feeling his heart pounding under her hand, she felt safe. It felt wonderful, Evelyn thought, to love and to be loved. And she trusted him, she realized with a start. Trusted that he would not take advantage of her. That he would not try to mold her into what he wanted, but rather encourage her to come into her own and simply learn to be herself again.

He was right. It had always been a question of love. To love someone as they were. To not fear the consequences of that love. To have the words spoken to you and be secure in their truth.

Her brow wrinkled then. To have the words spoken to you. To have the words...

"Francis?"

"Mmmmm?"

"I'd be pleased to hear those words again, if you would be so kind," she said primly.

"What words would those be?" he teased her with a hug.

In mock outrage, Evelyn pushed out of his embrace and moved away from him. Sitting up straight, perched on the edge of the settee with her hands folded in her lap, she tried to look starchy, but failed to suppress a grin. "Truly, my lord, have you nothing to say to me?"

With his arms slung over the back and arm of the settee, hair rumpled and with a languid smile lounging back in the corner of the little sofa, he looked utterly delicious to her mind. Sexy and masculine. "Nothing comes to mind, other than you look silly like that," he teased.

"You!" She threw herself against his chest and beat on it playfully. "Give up!" she said sitting on top of his chest. The skirt of her black riding habit twisted nearly up to her hips as she straddled him. Her deep golden hair, loose from its pins, fell wantonly about her shoulders. "Admit it!"

"I admit that you don't look at all silly like this." He ran his hands up her thighs to the tops of her gartered black silk stockings. He gathered up her hair in his hands and brought it to his cheek. "Actually, you look bloody seductive from here."

Eve leaned over and kissed him warmly and slowly. When his arms came up to hold her, however, she pulled back, her loose hair brushing his face. She watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Her chest twisted almost painfully.

"Say the words, Francis," she whispered.

He recognized the need in her words and his own chest tightened in response. To say the words, those three simple words. To say them to a woman for the first time in his life. To say them and mean them. It would be the easiest thing he'd ever done, for he did love this woman better than his own life. He opened his eyes. Bright green met dark. He opened his mouth...

He shook his head and closed his mouth. No, that wasn't quite right.

Pushing himself up and taking her with him, he lifted her into his arms, ignoring her squeal of protest. He carried her over to the fireplace and set her down before it. He arranged her until she sat before him, skirts circled about her, hair pulled over one shoulder and cascading into her lap. He nodded in satisfaction. The firelight flickered across her features and bronzed her glorious hair. It was perfect.

Pulling himself up on one knee, he brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. In that moment, her worried expression fled and a love radiated from her eyes. "My lady Evelyn," he began in a low, husky voice, showing all the emotion pent up inside of him for the past thirty-three years. "Words simply cannot say... they cannot describe the emotion, nor do justice to the feeling I have in my heart for you. It is beyond anything I have ever imagined possible. It fills me and fulfills me."

His voice caught slightly and he turned his head away. Touched by the obvious depth of feeling he was experiencing and knowing that it was not unlike her own, Evelyn caressed his cheek and started to speak. "Fran –"

He cut off her words with a finger over her lips. "Sweet Eden. I have said before that you are my paradise. There is more truth in that than you can know. You have given me more than I could ever hope to return, but I will try. You have given me your friendship, your passion and your love. And I will give them all back to you tenfold. Most especially my love. You want the words even though they do not say nearly enough. But I will offer them to you. I do love you. More than words. I love you."

Evelyn was completely overwhelmed by this, so much so that a single tear crept down her cheek. Francis caught it with a finger and raised it to his lips. "My lord, that was..." she trailed off, at a loss for words.

"I'd hear the words in return, my love."

"Oh God, Francis! I love you! I adore you! Don't you know how much?"

"How much?" he teased, catching her to him and holding her tightly there.

"I love you enough to trust you," she answered with simple sincerity. She was rewarded with a passionate kiss for her answer, which she returned whole-heartedly.

"Then marry me."

"No."

"Marry me!" he insisted harshly.

"I'll think about it," she conceded.

Francis fell onto his back with a satisfied grunt and pulled her to sit on top of him. "Now, where were we?" Shoving her skirts up to her hips and tousling her hair, he nodded. "Right about here, I think." With that, their lips met in a fiery kiss that drove away all other thoughts beyond themselves and that room.

"I would never have thought you to be such a romantic, my lord."

"I'll show you romance, my lady." His hands ran down the back of her thighs, sending little shivers through her.

"Will you, my lord? Is it time for romance, yet?" she taunted seductively.

He flipped her over until she lay beneath him, settling snugly between her thighs. "Ahhhh!" the sound was torn from his throat as the hard length of him came into contact with her heat through the barrier of his breeches. Need consumed him, racing frantically through his body, rising swiftly to a feverish pitch. He felt lacking in control, just as he always did when he touched her. He just wanted to touch her, taste her and lose himself in her, to come inside her. He wanted it so badly it hurt! Bloody hell! Romance had no place in this urgent, boiling passion!

"Ahh, paradise," he panted, his heart pounding against her chest. "Would you think me less of a man if I said it wasn't time for romance yet?"

"Francis," she whispered, her voice filled with as much need as he felt. "I'd think you less of a man if you said it was."

"Ahhh God, sweet!" He buried his face into her neck and ripped the bodice of her dress open immediately, capturing an exposed nipple in his waiting lips and sucking hungrily, drawing cries of delighted passion from his prim, proper countess. Cries that drove him even farther out of control.

He pulled at the front of his breeches, popping several buttons before freeing the length of himself from the confinement. He spread her legs farther apart and pulled himself between them. "No, not so fast," he mumbled to himself against her breast.

He found her with his fingers. To his amazement, she was already warm and wet. He looked down at her face and saw nothing but passion-filled, hungry, green eyes. He cupped her breast and her eyes fluttered closed, a deep moan born in her throat. The Scot bent and caught the other rosy peak in his teeth and teased it with his tongue. Evelyn cried out and wrapped her legs around him.

"Francis!" she cried out. "Please!"

That single word drove Francis over the edge as it always did. Grasping her hips with his big hands, he drove deeply into her and nearly lost himself in that instant, so hot and tight was she. He thrust into her again and again, until her burning, screaming climax erupted his own scalding hot release. He collapsed on top of her, burying his sweaty face against her breast. "Damned if we aren't going to kill ourselves if we go on like this."

"As long as we go together, I don't care," she whispered, still holding him tight.

"I'm going to want you every day until that time comes," he warned.

"That will be my pleasure, my lord."

# Chapter 30

Vanessa Fane MacKintosh sat in her carriage outside Richard MacKintosh's townhouse and watched for hours, waiting for her husband –...er, ex-husband – to exit the house. She chewed her lip, wondering what to do. It seemed the rumors flowing about town were true. Her husband had taken a mistress after all these years. Not since the first years of their marriage when Glenrothes had set out to prove his skills in the bedchamber to the ladies of Edinburgh and certainly not since their divorce, had she ever heard the smallest rumor about him taking a paramour. If he had, he'd been discretion personified. But word of this one had gotten around. Not just a courtesan either but an English countess. This noblewoman was a lovely woman, tall and blond. Cool, collected beauty such as hers had never failed to intimidate Vanessa.

Nervously, she worried over her thumbnail. Perhaps she should just take the money Francis had offered and go? Or should she hold out for more? Such a thing would make her a scorned woman, an object of ridicule. But no! She dismissed that idea with a sniff. Surely her father could stifle that as he had before. He wasn't a man to allow rumor to run rampant about his family.

But Francis MacKintosh was a different man than the one she had married all those years ago. He was so rugged now and his temper was simply exciting. He was no boy any longer, he was truly a man. And God help her, where she had never wanted him before, she wanted him now. But could she get him and his money? That was the question. These past years she had lived only off the monies her husband had bribed her with and gifts given to her by her lovers. But she found as she grew older that lovers were becoming more scarce, wanting younger women, not those in their thirties. And she wanted more security than that. She wanted the freedom to buy whatever she wanted without worrying over her budget. She wanted a satisfying man in her bed.

In short, Vanessa wanted her husband back.

She imagined this new Glenrothes in her bed, imagined those big, muscular arms lifting her petite body. What a delight he would be!

But still there was a problem with her plan and that problem was the Countess of Shaftesbury.

As she chewed anxiously on her fingernail and contemplated the possibilities, the door to the carriage was flung open and, with a squeal of surprise, she watched as a tall, elegant man entered and sat himself comfortably on the seat opposite her. He straightened his jacket and tipped his hat at her while she gawked at him in shock. "Lady Glenrothes," he addressed her, his voice bearing the softly cultured tones of London's best. "It appears that we have something in common. Might we take a drive through the park and discuss it?"

# Chapter 31

Abby and Moira were awaiting Eve when she arrived in the parlor late that afternoon. After the fervor of their initial lovemaking, Francis had carried her to the bed and made love to her once more before she had fallen asleep in his arms. While their second bout had begun more slowly than the first, their passion had again taken their control, culminating in the frantic joining it usually did. So worn out were they, sleep had claimed them both. It had been a disappointment to wake alone. Oh, she realized it was for the best, and that she should be thankful that Francis was providing the discretion she herself was lacking. But she had wanted very badly to awaken in his arms!

"So," Moira drawled saucily as Eve joined them, "Glenrothes left a while ago, whistling merrily. He'll be back for dinner later, by the by. I take it you've patched up your differences then?"

Eve blushed hotly and took a cup of tea from Abby, ignoring their questioning looks.

"He says that he'll be staying in town for the remainder of the Season," Abby added casually, though her eyes were twinkling and full of curiosity. "He hasn't done that in more than five years! He said something about having some business to take care of here."

"I can just imagine what his business is!" Moira chimed in, sotto voce, earning herself a sock in the arm from Eve as she did so.

"Moira MacKenzie!"

"Ouch!" Moira grumped as she rubbed her sore arm. "I say! That was uncalled for! Hmmm," she said thoughtfully, assessing Eve's rosy cheeks, "so how was your afternoon nap, Eve? Hmm? Appears to have been a good one..." She touched a spot below Eve's eye and teased, "doesn't look like you got much sleep though!"

Abby socked Moira on the other arm. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"Stop teasing Eve, Moira," Abby said sternly. She regarded Eve over the rim of her daintily held teacup before setting it aside. "Alright then, Evie, let's get right to the point of it."

"Point of what?" Eve asked suspiciously.

Abby's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Tell us... how was Francis MacKintosh?"

"Abygail Merrill!" Eve gasped and flushed in astonishment, chastising Abby much as she would have in school to mask her embarrassment. "How can you ever ask such a thing of me?"

"Must have been pretty good then," Moira confirmed with a broad grin, while Abby nodded in return. "Yes, the cheeks are rosy, the smile won't seem to go away entirely, the tension in her posture seems to have diminished..." Moira ticked off the results of the previous evening and that afternoon on her fingers.

"What would you know of it, Moira?" Eve ducked her chin in embarrassment and patted her cheeks as if to assess the rosiness of them herself.

"Oh, she has books!" Abby offered, raising her teacup in salute. "Don't worry about Moira, she might know more than both of us put together!"

"I believe in a well-rounded education!" Moira defended with a wicked smile. "But let's get back to the matter at hand." She turned to Eve again. "Well?"

Eve was curious about Moira's education and resolved to ask about it later. She waffled a moment in the impropriety of her evening before confessing, "It was wonderful!" She blushed again over the admission.

"I knew it!" Moira crowed.

"As it was last night as well."

"Evelyn Preston!" they exclaimed in unison.

"And he asked me to marry him," Eve added with a shaky smile.

Her two friends squealed and reached over to embrace her. "Oh, Eve!" Abby gushed. "I knew it would happen! I just knew it! Francis is a different man when he's with you and I'm sure he knows you would never treat him as Vanessa did. I'm so glad he worked up the nerve to ask!"

"When's the wedding?" Moira asked.

Eve flushed a bit and shook her head. "Well, there isn't going to be one."

"You're eloping?" Moira squawked in disbelief. "You!?"

"No, actually I told him no."

It took several moments for the two women to pick their jaws up off the floor before they bombarded her with more questions.

# Chapter 32

Late the next afternoon, Francis stormed into his study and paced furiously, surprising Richard and Jack as they took their brandy near the fireplace. They watched in silence as he paced in anger, then stopped and slapped his riding crop viciously against the desk several times before throwing it in the fireplace.

Richard and Jack exchanged looks, then Richard drawled in a bored tone, "Something amiss, brother?"

"Aye! Women!"

"Ahhh," Richard nodded studying his fingernails nonchalantly.

"Perhaps it is just one woman in particular who is bothering you," Jack observed, swirling his brandy about the snifter. "Which is it? The one who won't come to you or the one who won't go away?"

"That bitch!" Francis swore, tossing the remains of the crop into the fire.

"Well, I guess that answers that question." Jack's thick burr purred through the room as he shared a significant look with Richard. "What has she done now?"

"Nessa has been spreading rumors around town today that I abused her and threatened her to leave town when we were wed and that she had fled in fear for her very life before I divorced her! James, too, heard at the hotel that she's saying I threatened to kill her."

"I might be wrong here," Jack drawled, "but didn't you do just that?"

"No in so many words," Francis denied, pouring himself a brandy and downing it in a single gulp before pouring another. "I never threatened it verbally, regardless of how many times I thought it, but what can she think to gain by spouting such bile? What can the sympathies of Society bring her?"

"Vanessa isn't the brightest lass in the world, but even she knows not to air her laundry to the entire town. She must have a purpose in doing so," Richard commented thoughtfully. "Perhaps she is thinking that if she gains the sympathies of the ladies of the local Society, she will be allowed back within their fold."

"But that would indicate that she is planning to stay here," concluded Jack. "Surely the bitch must know that her true colors will fly and be recognized quickly. She might get back into the fleet but they will broadside her just as quickly."

"True enough analogy," Francis agreed, taking a more reasonable sip from his libation as he joined the men before the fire. "Discretion has never been her strong suit. She made a cuckold of me brazenly and publically. Surely Society hasn't forgotten that."

"And in turn, you humiliated her publically by divorcing her in the Queen's own courts," Jack reminded. "A bit of revenge, you think?"

"She hasn't attempted to regain a place in Edinburgh Society before, usually favoring London or Paris. Why now?" Francis wondered. "She must have some motive to face the cut most would give a divorcée of her reputation."

Richard rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. "I wonder if we could get someone close enough to her to find out what she is up to."

"Who would do that?" Jack snorted into his brandy.

Francis and Richard shared a speaking glance before both turned to Jack expectantly. Catching their look, Jack glanced in confusion between the two for a moment before his face lit with comprehension. "Hell, no! Don't look at me! I hate that bitch!"

"Don't we all?" Francis consoled. "My friend..."

"This friend already gave up an obscenely wealthy heiress to you," Jack argued, shaking his head. "I will not get within ten, no twenty feet of your former wife's clutches. You already owe me one."

"He has you there, brother," Richard concurred.

"Who then?" Francis wondered. "Jamie, maybe? Ian or Tam? Everyone else is married or too young to take her on."

"She wouldn't care."

"True," Francis went on, "though their wives might. But still, I'd like to know what she's up to."

"Listen, Francis," Jack suggested, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. "Why don't you get out of town for a couple of days? Make her think you retreated? I'm sure without you here, any plan she might have would be ineffective."

"Might look like an admission of guilt, too," Richard corrected.

Francis shook his head. "I go back and forth between here and Glen Cairn regularly when I'm in town. I don't think there is much to be gained by making a point of leaving, when I do so often enough anyway. I doubt it would even be noticed. Besides, I feel it might be detrimental to let her out of my sights for long. Who knows what might happen?" The men couldn't help but agree. "Perhaps I'll talk to Jamie. If nothing else, he could seduce her maid into finding out something for him."

"It's a grave assignment, but one he might be able to live with," Richard snorted indelicately.

"I'll take that one," Jack offered magnanimously.

"Sure you will."

"Sure and the maid might be able to offer names of the bitch's current lovers," Jack went on. "You could threaten to expose her affairs if she doesn't stop her accusations against you."

Richard looked skeptical. "She wouldn't care."

"But the men would, especially if they are married. They would keep her quiet. A bit of blackmail, but it might work. These past days I have felt none of Society's sting from the scandal as I have in years past and I want none of it now as I court Eve. I need Nessa silenced and well away from here as quickly as possible. Well," Francis raised his glass. "A plan then! Jack takes the maid and we'll move forward from there!"

"Hear, hear," Jack toasted with his glass. "Shouldn't be difficult to come up with a few men she's having affairs with."

"Few dozen, more like," Richard grunted and they all nodded, raising their glasses as Godfrey entered clearing his throat. "Aye, Godfrey, what is it?" Francis asked without looking up.

"Lady Shaftesbury is here to see you, my lord," the butler responded, allowing just a bit of pleasure to show through. "I've put her in the drawing room, my lord."

"If you gentlemen will excuse me." Francis stood and straightened his jacket and cravat.

Jack snorted into his drink. "You make me ill."

With a laugh, Francis made his way to the drawing room, closing the door behind him before he scooped Eve up into his embrace, swinging her about in a circle. "What brings you here? I thought to see you tonight." He wrapped his arms around her and she melted into him. "And later tonight..." he whispered, pressing hot kisses onto her shoulder and neck. "God," he groaned, "I have missed you. One very long night and morning without you and I missed you."

Evelyn clung to him, catching his mouth in a passionate kiss. "I have missed you, too, my love." Would she never get used to the bliss of being in his arms? Of the wanton heat that enflamed her when he kissed her? It was most inappropriate for a proper lady to feel this way.

"I need you, Eden. God help me, I need you." He squeezed her so hard she feared her ribs would break. "Eve. Eden, sweet paradise," he whispered, his voice thick with want. "I want you. I love you."

Francis felt her body shake in response to his words, her heart beating heavily against his chest.

Eve pulled back, remembering her purpose in defying the rules once again to show up at his door. "Lock the door, Francis."

As he did so, Eve paced the drawing room. "This is incredibly hard for me. It was one thing for you to have a faceless ex-wife. It was quite another to see her face to face in your arms yesterday." She shuddered again at this image.

"I did not want her in my arms, Eden," he defended. "I thought we had covered that."

Eve heaved a great sigh and picked off her black satin gloves, one finger at a time, dropping them on a small table. "We did. But it is simply beyond the pale for me to come face to face with her in public, Francis. And I'm not sure if I can deal with that at all."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said that you wouldn't let anything hurt me because of this, but it is, Francis. It seems everywhere I have gone today, that woman is there, announcing her presence and identity to anyone who doesn't remember her and to all who will listen. She came to the Duchess of Roxburghe's garden party this afternoon! She gave me the cut direct. It was humiliating." Eve shuddered with the memory of coming face to face with the ex-countess. She couldn't deny that Vanessa was a beautiful woman, dark and earthy. Petite in a way that had always made Eve feel awkward. The woman had looked her up and down with a nasty smirk on her lips before cutting Eve in front of the entire party. Abby had argued that Eve should have done it first, but Eve just didn't have it in her to be so rude. "Everyone whispered and kept looking back and forth between us. How does everyone know about you and me anyway? All this gossip is appalling. It could ruin my reputation."

Apparently she did not know that her reputation had already received a light tarnish over the past week as a result of his open pursuit of her at the Glenrothes ball, their more public courting and tales being spread by Vanessa. If she knew that much, she would be more than appalled. He wondered how many years it would be before she cast off the past and completely found herself again.

"Rumors only, my love. But do you not think this pains me as much as it does you? Do you not think every time I look at her I want to kill her for what she has done to me? What she is now doing to us?" His voice was heavy. Catching her hand as she paced by, he pulled her to stand between his legs and wrapped his arms about her hips, his head resting against her belly.

"There will never be a happily ever after for us, will there? No happy ending." Evelyn's voice was sad as she stroked his black hair.

"Give it some time, please. She'll leave eventually, when she needs more money. I heard her father has cut her off."

"Will it ever be enough?" Evelyn sighed and pulled away from him. "Even if she takes the money, I somehow wager she will stay simply to taunt you."

"We will be together, though. Her presence will be insignificant." He started working on the buttons up the front of her bodice. "You will be mine. You are mine."

"And I always will be, but I cannot take this sort of humiliation. I don't want to be an object of speculation. Living like a thief in the dark." She faced the fire. "I have to get away from it, Francis. I have to leave. I'm going home."

"I'm not going to let you go," he whispered fiercely.

"I have to go. At least until it's all over."

"No."

"Will you try to stop me?" she dared with a raised brow.

"You will not run away," he argued, meeting her challenging expression with one of his own. "You would not give her the satisfaction. If you want to put her firmly in her place, marry me. An engagement between us will have her actions smacking of petty jealousy."

"I won't marry you just to stop her, Francis."

"Marry me because you love me then." He pressed a kiss between her breasts uplifted by her corset. "Marry me because you want me."

"I do want you." She threw her head back, savoring the feel of his hot tongue as it dipped down into her cleavage.

Francis groaned in frustration. "Eden, we've lost so much time together, so many years and I cannot see you openly here in town lest the gossips take hold and rumors truly start. I want you in my arms each night. I want to wake with you each morning."

"I want that too," she whispered. After a moment's hesitation, Evelyn threw her head back, giving herself over completely to the magic of his tongue. She never wanted to be away from his reach, away from his voice, away from the secure knowledge – if nothing else – of his love.

She felt her skirts being drawn up and her pantelettes being torn by his willful hands. His lips crept along her hip bone and stomach before his fingers parted her and his tongue swept her center.

"Francis! Here?"

"Trust me," he whispered huskily. His tongue plunged into her and out again, swirling around the tiny nub of pleasure before drawing it between his lips and suckling lightly. Again and again his nimble tongue laved her, encircled her, until her knees were buckling and she was clutching his shoulders for support.

When her thighs started to quiver, Francis drew back, ignoring her squeal of protest. He rose and pulled her with him, lifting her completely off the floor. He held her securely, feeling her against him and passionately nipped and sucked on the sensitive flesh of her neck. He pushed her up against the wall, pinning her there with his big body. He kissed her deeply, losing control of his passion as he always seemed to with her. His hands trailed up her bare hips, lifting her legs so that they wrapped about his waist.

Evelyn held him tightly with her legs, her breath coming faster. Her body was aching with arousal awaiting his possession. Her fingers bit into his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer still. Big hands moved over her bottom, his fingers slipping into her, teasing her and stroking her until she was again in the midst of a passionate whirlwind. Little screams and cries escaped her as the frenzy took her breath.

When he lifted her up and set her down on his manhood, her startled cry turned into a deep moan. He pushed her back up to the wall, driving into her over and over as his hands supported her, spread her for his invasion. Her hips moved back against him, driving them both nearly insane. He pushed into her harder, faster and faster, over and over, until she was screaming against the passionate torment. His harsh cry mingled with hers as his huge body collapsed against hers.

Francis stayed there for several long moments until he managed to control his heavy breathing. Unhooking her ankles from behind him, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Evelyn opened her eyes as he set her down and smiled lazily, inviting him to join her there.

Francis complied, stretching his big body out next to hers, feeling intense satisfaction as she curled up next to him. Resting his large hand on her hip, he grinned ruefully down at her. "Now that was romantic seduction at its best."

Evelyn chuckled and shook her head against his hairy chest, curling her fingers in his hair. "The very best."

She turned and Francis followed, spooning his body to hers. His chest to her back. Wrapping his arm about her waist, he buried his face in her loose hair. "You're mine." Damn, Vanessa and whatever madness she had planned, Francis thought. He would not let her come between Eve and him. After a long moment, his deep voice cut softly into the silence once more. "I love you, paradise."

Her heart warmed at the words and she snuggled closer to him. "I love you, too," she replied with sincerity.

"No more talk of leaving?"

"For now."

"If I cannot persuade her to leave by the end of next week, I shall go with you to England," Francis offered.

"Truly?"

"Aye. Without us here, Nessa will have no reason to spew her venom. I will stay there with you as long as it takes for her to give up this mischief and leave." He pressed a kiss to her temple and savored the peace between them.

"Marry me."

Eve still shuddered a bit at the thought. "No. I told you why."

"And I told you I would never try to change you, my love." He nuzzled her neck. "I love you just the way you are. Marry me and be my partner, my mate."

"We'll see."

"Then at least come up to St. Andrews with me this week's end. If nothing else it will give me a chance to see how badly you play golf," he teased.

"Oh, you're going to regret those words!"

# Chapter 33

Glenrothes Manor

St. Andrews, Scotland

Francis lifted Eve out of the closed carriage and ran up into the manor, doing his best to get her there before they were both drenched by the rain. "I can't believe it rained today of all days," he muttered, as he slipped on the wet steps from the drive. "Stop laughing before I drop you in the mud!" Eve could only laugh more and clung to him as he carried her into the sitting room.

Francis' 'small house' was truly more of a manor on a tract of nearly 300 acres south of St. Andrews township on the coast. The house itself was recently built and indeed small by the standards of the Earl of Glenrothes, having only eleven bedrooms. Its construction had been one of the first things Francis had done after receiving the earldom and the bedroom suites were for each of his siblings when they cared to make use of them. It was lovely and cozy, with none of the airs found in the homes of most nobility.

Eve was thankful for the respite from Edinburgh. The remainder of the week since their talk had been a long and trying one for Eve. It seemed everywhere she went, Francis' ex-wife was there be it musicale or tea. Vanessa cut Eve directly and spouted her tales of woe to all the matrons of influence. Though most were still reluctant to think ill of the beleaguered Glenrothes and the terribly proper Countess of Shaftesbury, some brows had begun to raise in her direction. Eve had been glad to run from her difficulties for even a single day.

They had made the short train trip to St. Andrews, separated by the necessity to appear apart in the eyes of the other passengers, while sharing provocative looks from rows apart. The rain had started by the time they had reached the course and Connor and Fiona had not yet arrived either as Francis had wired asking them to.

Instead, they had rented a closed carriage to bring them to the cottage to wait out the storm and, Eve thought it necessary to add, to wait for their chaperones before they showed themselves in public as a couple again.

Francis lowered her into a large chaise in the parlor, nuzzling her neck as they went.

"Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?" He nipped her earlobe.

"A half dozen times at least. Of course, you didn't actually say it but once this morning, though your eyes spoke volumes on the train." She clenched her fingers in his damp hair and pulled at him to meet her in a tender kiss. Their parted lips played together, deepened as their passions rose. Would they ever get enough of one another, she wondered.

"As did yours."

"I probably look a fright now."

"You look enchanting. I would ask when you'll stop wearing black all the time though," he added, toying with the buttons on the high neck of her mourning gown.

"It's all I have right now, but I am having some new gowns made up."

"I can't wait to see them."

"Francis, what are you doing?" she murmured as he started unbuttoning her wet bodice.

"I thought that was fairly obvious, my love."

"Well! I mean right here?"

"I mean right now," he corrected.

"But... but..." she stuttered. "Somebody might see!"

"No one is just going to walk in, my love," he assured her, as his hand snaked up under her skirts and drawers until he found her moist heat. He slipped a finger up and down, lightly enjoying her shudder of delight. His finger dipped inside just a bit and he stopped there, pressing his thumb lightly against her nub as he curled his finger slightly.

Her thighs tensed and she groaned with frustration when he did not continue. Pleased, he grinned down at her and rotated his thumb, pushing a second finger in with the first. "Do you feel naughty, my Eden, out here?"

"Francis," she moaned, tossing her head from side to side, trying to push herself up against his hand, but he kept her where she was and rotated his thumb once more. Already she was a throbbing inferno, lightly pulsing against his digits.

"Shall I stop, Eden?" He withdrew slightly and chuckled when she clamped her thighs tightly, keeping his hand between them.

"No-o-o-o," she moaned, throwing her head back against the chaise.

"'No' I shouldn't do this?" he whispered in her ear and pulled his hand back just a bit. "Or 'no, don't stop'?" He pumped his fingers into her core once and then again, thrusting deep inside her.

Eve screamed in her throat and pulled at him. "Francis! Please!"

Amazingly, he resisted her plea. "Please don't stop?" Francis nipped her neck and murmured against her ear, his breath harsh with his own want and desire. He rotated his thumb against the damp, swollen nub of her desire once more. "Say it, Eve."

"Do-o-n't s-s-stop," she stuttered, the tension building and spiraling in her belly and down her thighs as his fingers slid slowly in and out of her. "Francis, please."

"Please what?" he urged hoarsely. His own desire was already raging, desperate for release. "Say it, my love."

Eve shook her head in foggy denial even as she arched again and again against his thrusting hand. Say it? she thought wildly. She could barely think it, much less say it.

"Please what, paradise?" he insisted. "Tell me." His fingers dipped and retreated over and over as he loosened the fastenings on his trousers with his other hand. Freeing himself, he pushed her skirts up to her hips and positioned himself between her legs, still teasing her with his fingers.

When he stopped, Eve whimpered and stared up at him. "Tell me."

"Take me," she begged and Francis thrust home to the hilt. Both of them cried out in the glory of their union as Eve clenched around him. "Take me," she whispered again, "take me, take me!" she chanted breathlessly as he pounded into her. "Oh my God!"

Their harsh cries mingled as they came together, straining toward each other. Eve clasped him to her as she buried her face against his sweaty neck. For how long they lay there, Eve could not guess. Minutes, days, years. Connected to one another, content in one another.

"Francis? Are you here?" a deep voice came from the hall.

"Who's that?" Evelyn whispered, caught in frozen dread.

"Connor, I assume," Francis answered nonchalantly.

"You're joking. You said no one was expected."

"I said no one would walk right in."

"Francis?" a lighter female voice questioned this time.

"You're not joking!" Evelyn whispered with a squeak. "For Christ's sake, Francis! Get off of me!"

"Why?" came the infuriatingly calm question.

"Because they will see us!" she told him, as if she were talking to a child.

"So?" He caught her frown. "Oh. Well, in that case..." He stood abruptly and refastened his breeches. "Connor! Fiona! In here!" he called, grinning down at her.

"Oh!" she squealed scrambling to straighten her clothing. "I'm going to get you for this!" was her furious threat. "Why didn't you tell me someone was coming right away?"

He shrugged. "I left a message for them to meet us here. And even if it weren't them, who did you think was going to cook for us?"

Evelyn punched him in the stomach and sat down in a big wing chair that faced away from the door and hid herself in it as the earl faced the couple who came into the room.

"Francis!" Fiona skipped across the room and threw herself into his arms.

"Hullo, Blossom," he squeezed her tight and held a hand out to his brother. "I was expecting you down at the course."

Connor just shrugged. "Sorry, we were running a bit late then got caught up in the rain. Figured you'd come here until it all cleared up."

"We were able to occupy ourselves until you got here. I have brought Lady Shaftesbury down to play a round or two with us."

"I bet you'd like to play around with her!" Fiona snorted indelicately then squealed with embarrassment when Eve rose from the chair by the fire.

Francis frowned at his sister who had the good grace to flush and look away. "My apologies, Lady Shaftesbury, I didn't see you there."

"No need, Lady Fiona," Eve came forward with an extended hand. "The fault is mine for not greeting you immediately. I must have dozed off," she added in an offhand manner, ignoring the raised brow Francis levied upon her blatant lie. But even he seemed disgruntled by the situation now.

Francis had never been privy to having conclusions drawn so swiftly about his actions and he was indeed displeased that those so quickly drawn disparaged the woman he loved. While this frenzied rush of lust and lovemaking had seemed to overwhelm them the past several days, this was not merely a sexual affair. It went far beyond simple sex. It was a meeting of hearts, not only bodies, and it suddenly infuriated him to think anyone would assume that about what was to him an earth-stopping love. He would have to have words with them, he realized, and set the record straight. Not only his siblings, but the couple he employed to keep the house. He would not have Eve frowned upon or thought of as a mistress.

"We will try for a round... of golf... in the morning if it clears up." Francis tried to shrug off the awkward moment. "We might as well tidy up and take dinner. I'm sure Lady Shaftesbury would enjoy a rest before then. May I escort you up?"

"Of course." Eve nodded to Connor and Fiona as she took Francis' arm and regally ascended the stairs. Only when they had reached his room and shut the door did Eve sag against it and cover her face. "That was utterly mortifying, Francis."

"I'm sorry, my love," he apologized. "It never occurred to me that anyone would see our relationship for anything other than the love it is. I will speak to them."

Eve merely shook her head as she pushed away from the door. "Still."

"Aye and what of your 'dozing off'?" he grinned. "Do you think they bought that at all? That you were asleep?"

"Why, yes Francis," she teased, pushing aside her worries as she sidled closer to him, pointing a playful finger. "And you all interrupted my dream!"

"What were you dreaming about?" Francis caught her hand and drew her finger into his mouth.

Eve stared at him in fascination as his tongue whirled about her digit and suckled it. "A handsome prince."

He drew her finger out and proceeded to place a kiss on the tip of each remaining digit. "And his beautiful princess?"

"Mmmm, and happily ever after," she wavered, her eyes closing in rapture.

"Happily ever after?" he frowned. Could he give her that? He would damn well try to even if things didn't currently seem to be going their way. "What can the prince do to show his remorse for waking the princess?" he asked in a whisper.

"He can kiss her, of course."

He leaned over until his lips brushed hers. "Kiss her? How? Like this?" He brushed his lips across hers in the merest caress. Already his heart was pounding faster. Unbelievable. "Or like this?"

The kiss was searing. Evelyn's arms came up to wrap around his neck. "Most definitely like that."

Francis scooped her up and tossed her on the bed while she squealed in surprise. "Now scoot over and let me in. I am out to prove my love!"

"What, no romance?" she laughed as she pulled him down over her.

An hour later when they came down for dinner, an elderly servant met them at the bottom of the stairs. "Ah Martin. My lady, I would like you to meet Martin. A long time retainer of the MacKintosh clan and a very good one, I might add."

"Thank you, my lord," the rugged old man answered sincerely and indicated an equally aged woman in the doorway. "My wife, Agnes, my lady. She is the housekeeper for Lord MacKintosh at Glen Cairn."

Agnes curtsied before the countess with a show of some embarrassment, looking about the room as if she were uncomfortable with the situation. "My lady."

"Very good to meet you, Agnes."

"Thank you, milady. I hope ye're ready for a wonderful meal we've prepared for ye?"

"Yes, I am very hungry," Eve admitted lightly, realizing that the woman was uncertain how to treat her, her master's mistress. "The trip, of course, was very trying."

Evelyn glared at Francis as he squeezed her side familiarly with a decidedly wicked smile. "I find I am also very hungry as well following our... journey. What say you, m'lady? Shall we go directly into dinner?"

"That would be fine," she gritted out behind her teeth.

"How could you do that, Francis? You only made it worse for poor Agnes. Couldn't you see she was already uncomfortable with the entire situation?" Evelyn complained stiffly as she toyed with her fork, after the two servants departed the small dining room. "How embarrassing for both of us!"

Francis set his own silver down with a clatter and leveled her with a fierce look. "I am not ashamed of you, paradise, or of anything we do. I refuse to pretend that I am and would prefer to shout it to the world. I want to make you my wife, if you recall, so that I might show it every moment without any embarrassment for anyone." He took a deep breath and consciously cleared his brow with a sigh to release his frustration. He reached over and took her hand in his. "I will try to be discreet in town and in public, but this is my home. I refuse to hide from it here with you. I love you, paradise."

Evelyn blushed and squeezed his hand in return. Just as she was about to speak, she spotted Fiona and Connor entering the room. From their high color, Evelyn guessed that they hadn't missed a word of what was said. She was horrified that Fiona, especially, had heard! What the girl must think of her!

Face aflame, Evelyn stared down at her plate while Fiona and Connor took their places at the table. Agnes bustled in then, setting plates before them, before leaving the room in silence.

The clock ticked off the seconds.

"Well?" Fiona finally asked irritably into the silent room a few moments later.

"Well, what, Blossom?" Francis asked, puzzled by the impatient ill-humor his sister was displaying.

"Lady Shaftesbury!" The girl demanded her attention and waited until Eve looked up and met her penetrating stare.

Curiosity overwhelmed Eve in the face of Fiona's determined look. "Yes, Fiona?"

"My brother just said that he loves you," she wiggled impatiently. "Have you nothing to say to him in return?"

"Blossom!" Both men at the table choked in astonishment before Francis added, "That is none of your business, lass."

Fiona's chin jutted out belligerently. "Well, I think it is!"

"It isn't," Francis glowered at his youngest sibling.

"Fiona," Connor rolled his eyes. "You can't just ask something like that."

"Why not?" she insisted, eyeing the younger MacKintosh with a raised brow. "Don't you want to know?"

"Of course, I do!" he agreed. "But you can't just demand..."

"I do," Eve interrupted in a soft voice that caught their attention.

"Beg pardon?" Fiona blinked across the table at her.

Eve turned to find Francis considering her curiously and offered him a tender smile before turning back to their companions. "Of course you want to know. I understand that. You're worried about your brother, aren't you?"

"That bitch ruined my brother's life," Fiona said bluntly.

"Fiona Heather MacKintosh!" Francis groaned, wondering how he was ever to bring his youngest sibling out into polite society with her penchant for blunt honesty. It simply would not do at all.

"It's all right, Francis." Eve laid a comforting hand on top of his, biting back a chuckle. "They worry about you. They want to make certain you are not treated so shabbily again. You're lucky to have so many people who care."

"They're pests," he grumbled, but turned his hand over to grasp her fingers nonetheless.

"They're wonderful," Eve grinned before looking back at the younger MacKintoshs. "So, in answer to your question, Fiona... yes, I love your brother. Very much, in fact."

Nodding seriously, Fiona just tilted her head to the side and studied them. "He's happy, you know. I never realized how unhappy he's been, for pretty much my whole life, until now. Because of you, he's happy. I don't want to see it go away. With all the mess that harlot made..."

"That will be enough, Blossom!" Francis cut in abruptly and the girl flushed.

Evelyn eyed him curiously. "Was there anyone who liked her?"

"None that I can think of," he answered honestly and changed the subject. "We shall play tomorrow, I think. The weather's clearing up and I think Lady Shaftesbury feels that she'll give us MacKintoshs a real go..."

"I want to thank you for being so kind to my bratty siblings, Eden," Francis said later as he walked her slowly up the stairs.

"It isn't difficult, Francis." Eve clasped his arm and laid her head against his shoulder, reveling in their uncensored companionship. Thinking that every night with him could be hers if she but embraced his proposal, Eve shook off the urge to agree, saying only, "They are lovely people."

"You were lovely in the glow of the candles this evening," he whispered in her ear and was rewarded with a shiver of anticipation from her.

"Only this evening?" she teased breathlessly.

"Every evening."

"You look very handsome yourself. Every evening as well. In daylight, though..." she trailed off with a grin.

He squeezed her hand and laughed heartily. "I guess you'll just have to keep me in the dark then! Good thing that I have this wonderful place with all these dark rooms, isn't it?"

"Very good thing. And I'll expect to see each and every one of them."

"Oh, I'll make sure you see them all or at least the ceilings!" His grin was decidedly wolfish.

It took a moment, but a red flush of understanding flooded her cheeks and a high-pitched "OH!" escaped her lips. He laughed deeply leaning over to kiss her cheek warmly and affectionately. Unable to help herself, Evelyn joined him in laughter. "You're awful, my lord!"

"I do my best!"

"Your best to embarrass me? Yes, you do it very well!"

"Well, I must do my best at something!" he countered.

# Chapter 34

It warmed Eve immensely to move her queen in line once again and speak. "Checkmate, my lord."

"I've never before met a woman whose favorite words seem to be 'check' and 'mate'." Francis leaned back in defeat and smiled at her across the board. Patting his leg, he invited her to come to him.

"And I do truly love to say them," Evelyn responded as she curled up in his lap, enjoying the solitude of the evening.

"It's amazing. After that first night at Raven's Craig, I tried every trick I knew and still I could not beat you! Who taught you to play?" he asked curiously.

"My Da. He was very good."

"So, it would seem. You take great pride in beating me."

"It is nice to know I can defeat you in one thing, my lord," she teased. "You quite bested me on the links today."

"Ahh, but don't you know, my lady, that you defeat me every night in another way?" he nuzzled her neck.

"In what way?" she asked a bit breathlessly, distracted by the wonderful sensations his mouth was eliciting from her.

"Each time I touch you and I lose control of myself, it is a defeat of my self-control and good sense," he confessed.

"Then I hope I can continue to defeat you time and again."

"Conquer me, you mean." He kissed her lustily. "You do not mind, then, that I seem incapable of showing you some romance and tenderness?"

"You show me tenderness each day, like now," she whispered in his ear, causing him to shiver and pull her closer. "As for the romance, I think that you are the most romantic man I have ever imagined. I would not have you any other way." Her lips caught his earlobe and she sucked on it lightly, drawing a deep moan from Francis.

"Do not start, my lady, or you may not make it to your bed tonight."

Evelyn was strongly tempted, but she sighed and leaned back against his shoulder, staring into the blazing fire. "Must we really go back tomorrow?"

"We can play an early round in the morning before we return."

"If it were not for Laurie, I'd never go back."

"You have a fine son, Evelyn," he said and shifted uncomfortably beneath her.

A messenger had brought word that Vanessa was still in town and refusing to budge. It made no sense that the woman was refusing the exorbitant amount of wealth he was offering, though Jack had wired that Vanessa had been seen in the company of several different men lately. He needed to get back to town and plan his next move.

"Am I getting too heavy for you, my lord?"

Francis started at her teasing comment before pushing aside his uncertainties. "Don't be ridiculous. It has been a delightful few days and I am loathe to have them end."

"I as well."

That first night, they snuck out to make wild love on the sand at the beach, with the crashing waves around them. Evelyn did not think she would try that again anytime soon. While the experience did have its element of romance, something Francis tried so hard for, the sand continued to irritate even into the next day when they played golf. Fiona was right. All the siblings were very good and Eve was rusty, at best, from not having played for a long while. They teased her one and all, but Eve had enjoyed the day and their combined company.

It had been wonderful, addictive. Something she could get used to. Something she wanted the opportunity to get used to, even if it took the rest of her life. And it could be hers if she was willing to take a chance.

Waiting for the panic and disgust to descend, Eve felt only anticipation. Did she dare? Did she dare to grasp happiness with both hands? To put aside her fears? To embrace her chance for love? And she did love him. So much that it was a constant ache in her heart, a poignant combination of adoration and admiration for this man who had given her friendship, humor and a peek at that wonderful chaos that being a part of his large family might be. He could be hers, it all could be hers, if she dared to be his.

"I was thinking, Francis."

"'Bout what, paradise?" he asked as she lay cuddled in his arms.

Eve's nerves rang and she shivered just a bit. "I was thinking... that I might marry you. Maybe."

Francis leaned his head back and closed his eyes as relief and joy swept through him. "Is that a 'yes' then, finally?" he asked, needing the confirmation.

"I think so. Probably." She bit her lip anxiously.

"Maybe? Probably? Might?" he tsked to put her at ease. "These are ambiguous words, my love. Hardly an acceptance, definitely a blow to my manhood. Is it to be a yea or nay?" The words were light and undemanding.

There was a twitching deep inside that Eve fought against. Say it, she thought to herself, just say it. You know you want to.

She did. She wanted to spend the rest of her life loving him openly, publically. She wanted a life of days like these. She wanted to be his and wanted him for her own. "Uhhhh, yes."

Francis leaned back and looked seriously into her eyes. "Thank you, my love. I know that took a lot for you, but I promise you will never regret it. I will make you happy."

"You already do," she assured him and rested back in his arms, absorbing the contentment and peace that enveloped them.

"Would you care for tea now?" Martin said loudly from the door. He had taken to calling his arrival from the doors before entering. A warning shot, Francis cheerfully called it.

"That would be nice." Evelyn rose, unembarrassed, from Francis' lap to welcome the servants and the tray. It was their last night together here and Evelyn wanted nothing to spoil it.

Agnes pushed in the cart, smiling at the countess and not looking at all at her lord. She had already grown very fond of the lord's new lady. She was gracious and kind to both her and Martin. A true lady. Lord MacKintosh could have done no better. "I brought ye some more of those nice lemon tarts, m'lady."

"Ohhh! Lemon tarts!" Fiona squealed as she and Connor came in, still carrying their golf bags. The pair had chosen to play another round after their foursome that morning. The younger siblings laid into the tea cart eating heartily of the fare.

"Thank you, Agnes! Lemon tarts are my favorite as well!" Evelyn responded in delight, for the tarts were truly her favorites. "I am going to miss these after we leave."

"Do you need to go already?" Connor asked. "Blossom and I thought we might stay on a couple more days and play while the weather is nice."

"Do stay!" Fiona agreed.

"I'm sorry," Eve mourned. "We must get back to town."

"We'll miss you, Lady Shaftesbury," the girl pouted playfully.

"And we'll miss the sound of the lord's laughter," added Agnes.

"Well, you'll get to see a lot more of her in the future," Francis informed them with a wide smile. "You are the first to know that Lady Shaftesbury has just consented to be my wife!"

The four of them expressed their congratulations heartily. Fiona enthusiastically hugged them both while Connor shook his brother's hand and offered a kiss to Eve's cheek. Agnes soon wiped a tear of happiness from her cheek. "My lady! I am so happy for you both! After seeing the two of ye together I just knew the lad could find no one to love so much as ye!"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Francis added jovially as Eve handed him a cup of tea. "We should make it champagne, perhaps?"

Eve smiled but shook her head. "This is fine. A night just as I hope to spend many others in the future."

Fiona and Connor joined them for a quick toast before leaving to wash up after their long day on the links. "Well, said, my love," Francis told her. "I feel the same way. But please, hurry and eat your tarts, my love, so that I can take you to bed and make a perfect night complete."

Evelyn popped the entire tart into her mouth and stood brushing off her skirts. "All right, I'm done!" she mumbled, licking the crumbs from her lips.

Laughing, Francis scooped her into his arms and turned to the door.

"Wait!" Evelyn cried with a full mouth. "Go back!"

Amused, Francis turned back to the fireplace and laughed even harder as she leaned over to lift the plate of tarts from the tray. "All right, I'm ready!" Still laughing, the earl started out of the room stumbling. "Stop laughing or you're going to drop me!" she cried out.

"Fear not, my lady!" he posed gallantly. "I won't let you fall! I swear I shall not drop you... unless it's on my bed!"

Evelyn shoved a tart into his mouth. "You'd better not, my lord! You had better not!" She popped another of the delicious treats into her mouth before hanging on to him more tightly.

# Chapter 35

Back at the Townhouse of Lord & Lady Richard MacKintosh

Moray Place

Edinburgh, Scotland

"You have gone from looking blissfully content to perfectly miserable in the space of just one day, Evie," Moira commented the evening following their return, as Eve descended the stairs of Richard's townhouse with her friend to join their party at the Duchess of Roxburghe's Black and White Ball.

Eve had been in high spirits upon their return from St. Andrews. She and Francis had announced their engagement to the family and friends at dinner the previous evening and their celebration had lasted well into the night. Finally, they were going to be happy. She had been so certain.

This day, however, had brought a rain cloud to hover over her joy. Though Abby had assured her that no new gossip or speculation about her relationship with Francis had taken root, the town was now abuzz with tales of Francis' treatment of his former wife. Just that afternoon, Eve, Abby and Moira had encountered her nemesis at the Countess of Rothes' tea. It seemed Vanessa was getting very good at making herself appear the wronged spouse gaining the sympathy of Society's younger matrons who were not familiar with Glenrothes or the scandals that preceded their divorce years before. The woman had been pouring out her fictional woes to all who would listen, acting the ill-treated wife who had been divorced on a whim and going on about how Glenrothes had been so awful to send her away and had been threatening her of late.

By necessity, Eve had to let Abby stand alone in her defense of Francis so as not to link herself any closer to him until their engagement was announced. It hadn't been easy. She had nearly blurted out that she and Francis were planning on marrying, but the thought of further confrontation was hard to bear.

Vanessa appeared no closer to leaving Edinburgh than she had three days before. Her snide remarks and innuendo had set Eve on edge for the remainder of the day. Andshe heard as the day went on that Vanessa expanded upon her misery by adding that Francis had been philandering on top of everything else. Eve wished she had heard that before the tea so she might have defended Francis regardless of the harm it might do her.

If only they dared announce their engagement beyond the family! But they had thought it best to withhold that information until Vanessa left the area, lest she turn her malicious accusations from Francis to Eve.

After such a miserable day, Eve wanted nothing more than to stay in tonight and avoid further contact with Francis' ex-wife after a trying afternoon. There was nothing to be done for it, however. The duchess had insisted on their presence at her ball and that was that. There was no excuse the lady would accept. Eve pinched the bridge of her nose as a headache blossomed. "I'm not exceedingly happy, Moira. It's been a most tiresome day already."

"Well, one must endure, I guess. You mustn't let that woman bother you so. But look at yourself! You will be the envy of every woman present. You must take me to meet the man who creates these gowns," Moira continued, gushing with excitement. "I simply must have one or twenty."

The gown was, of course, Worth. One of her favorites from the previous year that she had not yet had the chance to wear. The skirt was simply shaped, without draping or gathering at the waist, falling from a simple flowing bell into a long train. The white silk, however, was covered in an intricate pattern of scrolling black velvet cutouts that swooped in long lines from her waist and curled here and there across the entire skirt of the gown. The effect from the back was especially dramatic and elegant. The scrollwork continued in smaller detail up the tight bodice and the short sleeves were a confection of white Chantilly lace and black feathers. Beneath the hem, her black silk petticoats peeked out when she walked or when she would dance. She wore black feathers in her hair, white gloves and simple black opal drop earrings and necklace for adornment, leaving the gown to make the largest impression.

"That dress must have cost a fortune," Moira added sportily bouncing merrily down the stairs. "I'm sure Papa and Pops would buy me a dozen if it meant finding a husband. You're lucky you have the fortune to afford them, most widows don't, but of course your father gets you everything you want."

Eve grimaced but couldn't disagree. "You might think that with all the money I have got that I might be happy for a while."

"Money cannot buy happiness, don't you know?" Moira edified.

Hobbes laid a black velvet cloak over the gown, as Eve added wryly, "No, but at least I have nice clothes to wear while I'm depressed. You look lovely tonight as well."

Moira smiled ruefully. "Do you think so? This was the first gown I was able to have done since I got here. Most of my wardrobe is terribly out of date."

"No, no. It's very nice." Moira wore an emerald green silk gown that set off her red hair and gray eyes nicely. Moira was of a more voluptuous figure than Eve and the gown showed it off nicely with its low neckline and extreme hourglass cut. The draping of the overskirt emphasized the flare of her hips. The men wouldn't be able to look away and Eve told her so.

"I hope you're right!" Moira laughed, as Richard and Abby joined them. "Well, shall we go? It's my first big ball and I don't want to miss a thing."

"I really wish we had not committed to doing this tonight," Eve moaned, but her face fell in shame. "I'm sorry, dear, I know you're excited. I will do my best not to ruin it for you!" She only hoped that Vanessa MacKintosh, who had boldly requested an invitation from the duchess herself just that afternoon, might realize the social faux pas she had made and choose not to go.

That simple wish was not to be.

"Lady Glenrothes, my how... nice you look tonight," Eve drawled with sappy sweetness though she was inwardly aghast that Francis' ex-wife would think herself welcome to join Abby, Moira and Eve where they stood chatting, while the men retrieved refreshments for them. The evening was already late. Eve and Moira's dance cards had been filled early on while Abby still refrained from dancing. Eve had danced almost every dance, taking her partners in Francis, Richard and James as well as a few other older gentlemen who had asked her. She had even accepted a dance with Jack Merrill, though he teased her mercilessly through the whole thing, making her regret her decision.

As she had woven through the motions of the dances, Eve had seen Vanessa from a distance several times over the course of the evening but had avoided a confrontation before this point. "It's quite bold of you to choose to wear red, especially at a black and white ball," she added, unable to keep her voice completely pleasant.

"A lovely compliment, Lady Shaftesbury," Vanessa simpered.

"Terribly sorry. That was certainly not my intention."

Vanessa's eyes narrowed as if trying to ascertain whether there had been intentional insult, looking from Abby to Moira, who both managed a straight face. It occurred to Eve that perhaps she wasn't a decidedly intelligent woman. She was thinking so hard about Eve's comment that she had to assume that it might be the case. If that were the case, what was her aim in attending the same functions as Eve and attempting to engage her in conversation? If it wasn't to make herself look intentionally tragic, what was it? Becoming, God help her, friends? Getting Eve out of the way so she could have Francis back? She hadn't wanted him for a dozen years, why would she want him now?

"Her ladyship said I could wear anything I wanted since I haven't been back long enough to have a new wardrobe done," Vanessa went on, when the trio remained silent.

"Her grace."

"What?"

Moira spoke up as if to a small child. "You refer to a duchess as 'your grace' or 'her grace'. You had best learn other rudiments of etiquette if you're going to keep up in Society."

"Her grace," Vanessa repeated.

"Would you like me to write it down for you?" Abby asked sweetly.

"Probably can't read anyway," Moira whispered in an aside. "You did go to school, didn't you? Or at least had a governess to teach you all this?"

Vanessa's eyes narrowed and took on a vicious gleam but she could not rebut Moira's jibe, since she had managed to torment all her would-be governesses into quitting.

Before a spat broke out, Eve interrupted tiredly, "What do you want, Vanessa?"

"My husband, of course." She confirmed Eve's earlier suspicion. "I saw you dancing with him. Word is that you are his mistress."

Eve managed to disguise her dismay at having such an accusation tossed so casually in her face. "I am no man's mistress."

"You looked very cozy with each other earlier," her rival taunted.

"That's really none of your concern." Eve waved her fan with studied ennui. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe he divorced you."

"That could easily be changed." The woman's hand whisked away the detail as insignificant. But the sight of Glenrothes with the countess so cozily ensconced at each other's side throughout the evening had planted a seed of doubt as to the success of the plan. So much so, Vanessa had decided to approach the countess directly, even when she knew she should not. Rumors put them on the verge of marriage. She wanted to gauge for herself how serious a relationship her husband was developing with this woman.

Eve's eyes narrowed over the top of her fan. "Why would you want him now when you did not before?"

"You are not serious," Vanessa retorted. "You have seen, all of him, I'd wager," she added to the shock of the ladies. "He's become a rare piece in the years I've been gone. He's all man now."

Appalled that the woman would even mention such a thing in polite company, Eve could not address her words directly but said only, "Need I remind you that you didn't want him?"

"He was a boy before, not the man he is now – and he's rich to boot," Vanessa responded, as if Eve were an idiot child. "Besides even if I can't have him, that doesn't mean I'll let anyone else have him."

"Bitch," Abby muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?"

Abby squared her shoulders and glared at Vanessa. "I said that you, madam, are a bloody bitch."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sorry, do you need a definition?"

Vanessa came at her with claws bared. "Why you! I'll..."

"You'll nothing." Eve caught her arm and pulled her back. "Go away, Vanessa. Go back to where ever it was you came from."

"And let you have Glenrothes?" Vanessa spat out. "Never! You can't have my husband."

"Ex-husband, madam, and I already have him," came Eve's calm assurance, though she amazed herself by directly addressing such a personal matter.

"Not totally," the other woman countered. "He'll never be yours."

"We shall see," Eve countered with quiet confidence.

"Yes, we shall," Vanessa sneered and flounced away. "Sooner than you think!"

# Chapter 36

Vanessa stood near a potted palm nearly an hour later, waving her fan before her face as she watched her former husband talking with the Countess of Shaftesbury. The countess was stunning. She had expected to see that beauty falter upon closer inspection, but to her chagrin, it had not. Her skin was enviable, smooth and unlined, even though she was nearing thirty years. And while her gown alone would have been enough to envy, the countess was also tall, trim and elegant, making Vanessa feel short and frumpy in her own red velvet gown that she had adorned with black fur. Where she had before thought the fur trim added to her voluptuousness, she now felt it made her look almost fat. She stood out in the sea of black and white like a beacon of bad taste.

Vanessa watched the earl lean closely to whisper in the woman's ear. A radiant blush flooded her cheeks when he raised her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. Glenrothes led her out to the dance floor, taking her in his arms as if she were something fragile and precious, before launching into a whirling waltz that spun the countess around the floor. Her skirts flared up, revealing her black petticoats and drawing the appreciative stares of several gentlemen to her trim ankles.

Heads turned as they rotated around the circumference of the floor. They were a stunning pair in their black and white attire, both so tall, and he with his hair and skin so dark standing in stark contrast to her pale beauty. Yet they saw no one around them. It was very clear their focus was completely on each other. The earl was smiling. Vanessa realized she had never seen him do so before. He looked happily captivated by the woman. Tender... loving? The truth struck her like lightening. They were in love!

Vanessa frowned. She had been in love once as a young girl, before her father forced her to marry the boy Glenrothes had been. Her lover had been a mere crofter, however, and her father had refused to allow them to be together. It had been almost fifteen years since she'd felt anything that looked like what the couple on the dance floor felt.

That was unacceptable.

Why should they have what she could not?

The countess laughed as Glenrothes spun her around. A vision of pure joy. Their recent confrontation seemed not to bother her much, though it had bothered Vanessa greatly. She could readily see that it would be nearly impossible to get Francis back for herself and was now ready to take the money Glenrothes had offered and run. But first, she wanted to see the countess suffer total humiliation for making Vanessa Fane feel inadequate.

She swallowed deeply in an attempt to rein in her anger. "When?" she growled aloud, never looking away from the pair. "When are you going to get her out of here? I want her gone. This is so demeaning."

"Never worry, my dear," her companion answered softly, staying within the shadow of the fronds. "It never does well to create a scene such as you did at the duchess' garden party this afternoon and nearly did again tonight. Nearly told her about me, didn't you? Nearly told her of our plan? That simply will not do. Patience."

"I've never done particularly well with patience," she informed him.

"Fear not, you shan't have to wait any longer," he responded with a nod to the room. "I believe our moment has arrived."

The waltz had come to an end and, after a quick word and an adoring smile to her partner, the Countess of Shaftesbury gracefully exited the ballroom nodding cordially to acquaintances along the way. Vanessa's compatriot slipped quietly after her, shadowing Eve into the hallway as she made her way to the ladies retiring room, waving Vanessa back as she made to follow.

A sly smile twisted her lips as she watched him go. Now that cold bitch would pay for taking what was hers.

He trailed her at a distance but closed in when he realized she wasn't paying the slightest attention to her surroundings. She was humming under her breath as she climbed the stairs leisurely. In the hall above, he waited for a chance to approach her and after passing a pair of giggling debutantes, the way ahead was deserted. "Might I have a word, Lady Shaftesbury?" he asked.

Despite her earlier desire to remain at home, Eve was having a wonderful evening. She had danced as she hadn't in years, feeling light on her feet during the reels and laughing merrily as she was lifted and spun through the turns. When Francis had taken her in his arms for the waltz, holding her tightly and whirling her about the floor until she felt giddy, she had been in heaven as he whispered to her words of love and beauty. With the exception of her single encounter with his ex-wife, it had been a nearly perfect evening.

She was humming to herself as she sashayed down the hall to the ladies retiring room and turned with a smile when a cultured voice called for her attention. It was a voice that recalled London Society more than Edinburgh's, rousing her curiosity. A figure lingered in the shadows behind her. "I'm sorry, sir, have we..." Her voice trailed off and a hand rose to her chest in disbelief as she beheld the man emerging into the light. She swallowed painfully, a knot of fear closing her throat as her heart's tempo hit an abrupt crescendo of disbelief and then, panic. "William?" she choked out as the blood drained from her face.

"Indeed, my dear, it seems as though you have been a very naughty girl in my absence." William Ashley-Cooper took a step closer and wrapped a hand around Eve's arm, the familiar grasp an echo of years past. "These past several weeks have been most enlightening." Seeing the color leaving her face, he added, "But please feel free to faint. I will catch you."

Without choice, she did.

When she roused, Eve found herself in a small bedroom, most likely one of the duchess' many guestrooms, lying on the bed. She closed her eyes trying to contain the renewed racing of her heart, wondering if what she had seen was true or some terrible figment of her imagination. And if it were true...!

Turning her head, she saw her husband seated on a nearby chair, his fingers templed before him as he watched her. It had not been a dream at all. Not her imagination. There he was, hovering like a hawk over his helpless prey. Thoughts were whirling through her mind too fast to grasp hold of even one. The implications of his presence! She groaned. "Oh, my God."

"Ah, so you do remember me! How very encouraging!" His snide sarcasm brought a shake of denial from Evelyn.

"This is impossible. You are dead!"

"Indeed," Lord William Ashley-Cooper sniffed haughtily. "I really must provide some scolding for so quickly declaring me dead, my dear. It has been most inconvenient. Imagine arriving at my childhood home and having no one there who I recognized. Indeed, no one who recognized me! Earl Shaftesbury!"

"But the Utopia went down and you were not among the survivors," she insisted, still stunned to see her husband alive and well in front of her. "The Queen's investigators confirmed your death." It was impossible, inconceivable. Her own personal nightmare had come to life before her eyes. She shook her head again in denial.

"No, my dear, I was never on the Utopia. Surely you should have realized that at some point? No, of course not." He examined his fingernails with an air of boredom. "I had gone from Italy to Greece and then on to China in pursuit of a collection of quite lovely and priceless artifacts. Unfortunately, in my attempt to acquire them, I drifted into slightly illegal territory and had been detained as a guest this past year."

Eve rallied a bit at this and found herself able to laugh as she understood the nuance of his explanation. "You tried to steal them and were arrested!"

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes," he admitted with a dark glower. Shaftesbury had already boarded the Utopia when his agent arrived at the ocean liner to tell him that the treasures they had been pursuing had been tracked down to a private seller in Greece. Within moments, he had left the ship, not bothering to notify the crew, thus his name had still been on the passenger list when it went down. Lucky and unlucky for him, he had disembarked. The seller in Greece had been arrested and the artifacts, a pair of 14th century Ming vases, were sent first to the consulate, where he had approached with an offer to purchase the ancient vases, and then shipped back to China. He had followed on the next vessel departing, an unfortunate month aboard a cargo ship, and again approached the government with an impressive offer to buy the vases. When they refused he had, yes, attempted to liberate them in a less than legal fashion.

Who knew they took their national treasures so seriously there? He had spent the better part of the year trying to convince his captors who he was. How important he was. It was only by sheer luck that he had managed to be freed. He had liberated the vase and fled back to England with bounty hunters in pursuit, only to find his identity gone and unverifiable without his wife. "And now I return to find myself declared dead, my fortunes and property out of my control and my wife behaving in a most disgraceful manner with another man. I believe appropriate retribution may be in order."

"Perhaps you should have told someone – anyone – where you were, William! I hadn't heard from you at all since the day you left New York. You were to have returned on the Utopia! But it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Why are you here, William? To punish me? I'm sorry, but you do not rule my life any longer." Gathering her flagging courage around her, she stood and brushed out the creases of her gown with studied carelessness.

"I believe that I have told you before, my dear, that I own you." He gripped her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. "You are my property. By law. Mine to do with as I wish. Mine to command and I need you to come with me."

"Your rights disappeared the moment you were declared dead," she informed him with false bravado since she didn't know if that were true or not. She desperately wanted it to be. "You do not exist anymore. What is it you're trying to prove here, William?" Eve eyed her husband with deliberate disregard, though inside her nerves were clamoring. "That you can still control me? Punish me?"

Shaftesbury laughed cruelly. "My dear, there will be consequences, naturally, but my punishment shall not be for you alone. I have been here for quite some time, watching you. I have tried to gain entry to see you many times, only to be turned away by some supercilious butler who does not know his place and denies acceptance of my identity." His voice became icy. "I have watched from afar as my countess engaged in a scandalous affair. You have degraded the name of Shaftesbury. Brought shame down upon us. But now, all will be well. Lady Glenrothes and I have become quite good friends these past several days, you know. I am the solution to her problem as she will be to mine. And you will be coming with me, back to London."

I bloody well will not! Eve thought fiercely as she glared at the man who had so influenced and ruined her life. Indeed, he had stolen it and the person she had been. It would be a cold day in hell before she went with him and left everything that mattered to her here in Edinburgh. She drew up every scrap of confidence she had. "I am not going anywhere with you, William! I told you before you left New York that I wanted a divorce. Your death made things easy, but I am still willing to do things the hard way and Da will help me. He has more power and money than you. Oh, that's right, you haven't any money at all, have you?" She straightened her gloves and walked to the door. "Abandonment ought to do it, don't you think?"

"What of my son?" The words were coolly spoken but Eve perceived the threat in them immediately.

She swallowed, then shot back with bravado, still facing the door, "He will stay with me, of course. You will have much to do to even gain back a legal identity. It may be years before you can. Right now, Laurie is the earl and I am his legal guardian. There is nothing you can do about that."

"Ahh, but it would be a shame, would it not, if anything were to happen to him."

Eve whirled about and faced her husband, gaping in disbelief. "How can you even say that? He is your son!"

"I could make another just like him, just like that." He snapped his fingers coldly. "Walk out of here with me now and no harm will come to him," he offered with dead serpentine eyes. "Create a scene and I promise you, you will never see him again."

Eve pressed her lips together, her fear-clouded mind racing, but finding no immediate solution. Where years of being under William's control had brought humiliation and suffering, she had never feared him before. She thought she knew all that he was capable of and was able to face it. But now as she looked at him, Eve could sense a restrained violence that had never been there before. She had no idea what this William was capable of. That in itself was enough to foster fear. Seeing no recourse, Eve nodded hesitantly.

"An admirable choice." Returning the nod curtly, Shaftesbury strode to the door and opened it. "Shall we?"

"Where are we going?"

"Initially to my rooms," he answered as he took her arm firmly in his grasp. "Then I have one last piece of business here before we return to London."

Eve walked along by his side, her mind racing trying to figure out how to keep her son away from William so that he couldn't be used as a threat, how to get away from him and how to get word to her father. She needed help. She needed Francis.

Francis wondered what was taking Eve so long. The rumor mill had moved on from speculation regarding his relationship with Eve back to the rumors being spread by Vanessa about their marriage and divorce. He wanted to gather her up and take her home, away from this gala where rumor abounded and speculation reigned. If he could not announce his engagement to all the gossip mongers, gaining himself the right to be by Eden's side – and he recognized that he could not, given Vanessa's erratic behavior – he wanted to take her home where they might revel in the promise of their future together.

His ex-wife had begun weaving her mischief again this evening. The thorn in his side had been circling the ballroom, raining a litany of his supposed abuses upon ears eager for gossip. Acquaintances of years past looked at him with pity, while others he did not know so well were examining him with suspicion and conjecture. Let the masses think what they would, he would not give credence to Vanessa's bile by trying to defend himself against such nonsense. At least their hostess, the Duchess of Roxburghe, had taken notice and escorted Vanessa to the side of the room and was chiding her thoroughly, giving Francis opportunity for a hasty departure. But where was Eden? When he questioned Abby and learned that Eve hadn't returned to the ballroom as yet, Francis became concerned.

His height gave him the ability to see over most of the crowd and with relief he saw her finally coming down the stairs. Eve was being escorted by a man Francis had never seen before and though they seemed to be walking companionably together, he could see even from that distance that the hand the stranger had on her arm was forcible and rough, rather than guiding. She was glancing wildly around the hall before her eyes met his across the room. Eve looked at him pleadingly, the apprehension and worry clear in her eyes. A jolt of fear clenched his chest, reading her near panic.

Francis pushed his way across the room, ignoring the calls of protest that trailed behind him. He broke into the main reception area, which was crowded with people but not as densely packed as the ballroom, just as the pair reached the bottom of the wide staircase. Eve started to come to him but the man pulled her back with a wrench of her shoulder. "Eve! What is going on? You there! Unhand her!"

"Ah, Lord Glenrothes, we meet at last." The man gave a mocking shallow bow but did not release Eve.

"I said let her go, now," Francis ground out in a low, threatening voice, his hands fisting by his sides.

"My dear, perhaps you should tell your... friend that you are coming with me willingly. His barbaric stance makes me feel that he believes something is amiss." Shaftesbury raised his brows at Eve when she wavered. "I would not think of hesitating, my dear."

She winced as the man tightened his grip on her arm and Francis took a step forward. Eve held up her hand, her eyes full of anguish when she spoke in a dull voice, "I am going willingly, my lord Glenrothes. Please allow us to pass."

"Who is this man, Eden?

"I'm sorry, do allow me to introduce myself. William Ashley-Cooper at your service," the man intoned haughtily, snapping his heels together.

"Ashley-Cooper?" Francis repeated with a frown.

"Shaftesbury," Eve whispered. "My husband."

# Chapter 37

"Your...!" Francis drew in a shocked breath. "But he's dead!" A few heads nearby turned curiously as his pronouncement rang out.

"A nasty inconvenience that keeps raising its head," Shaftesbury said dismissively. "However, it will soon be remedied. I had wanted to keep my presence here a secret until then and you are doing naught but attracting attention. Now, if you will excuse us, I must see my wife back to my rooms."

The emphasis on the 'my' had Glenrothes seeing red. He stepped closer and took Eve's hand, trying to pull her away from the man who she claimed was her husband returned from the dead. Husband! Rage and jealousy burned through him and, in a moment of clarity, he realized how Eve must feel whenever she had been faced with Vanessa's presence these past several days. "Over my dead body," he snarled.

"I would be truly happy to arrange such an event at a later date, but for now, please unhand my wife. Also, I believe you have your own little problem to consider as well. Nasty business with your own wife, what?" Shaftesbury being Shaftesbury, he managed to keep his voice at just the right pitch of politeness, Eve thought. So easy to goad Francis, rile him so that he looked the villain.

"Francis, please," she begged. She wanted assistance but a scene wasn't going to help anything. For completely different reasons than any William might have, she definitely didn't want anyone to know who this man really was. "This is not the time to create a scene."

"You cannot mean to go with him, Eve!" he argued, pulling on her hand. But they were beginning to attract the attention of the other guests, he could see. Richard and Jack were weaving their way toward him through the mass of onlookers with Abby and Moira following in their wake.

Eve shook her head as her husband tightened his grip even more. She sent him a pleading glance. "Please, Francis! Laurie..."

Francis understood immediately what leverage Shaftesbury had wielded to gain Eve's acquiescence. Rage welled in him. Motherly instincts were most definitely her weak spot. "You bastard," he growled at the other man. "You'd threaten her with something like that?" He took a step forward, fists clenched.

"Francis, what is going on here?" Richard asked as he finally reached them, holding his brother back as he started to charge the aristocratic man holding Eve's arm.

"Richard, please stop him!" Eve begged, as she eyed the gathering crowd and lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. "This is my husband, not dead as was assumed." She indicated the man with her and waved off Richard's gasp of surprise, directing her next words to Francis. "This is not the time or place to argue. He is insisting I go with him and I will. Let us leave without a fuss, right now, and we will work this out."

"Work it out?" Francis ground out, wrenching his arms away from his brother's grip, though both Richard and Jack stood by to halt him again if he made an aggressive move. Both saw the logic in Eve's words.

Eve stepped as far away from Shaftesbury as he would allow and, in a low tone meant only for Francis, whispered desperately, "Please protect my son. Please..." before the earl yanked her back, gaining another snarl of anger from Francis.

"Ye better stop yanking her around if ye know what's good for ye, mon."

Shaftesbury tsked lightly with some amusement, interested in this new turn of events. He had originally planned on getting his wife out of here quickly and quietly, taking her off before he leveled his revenge upon this Scottish barbarian for taking what was his. Seeing that Glenrothes was not going to allow them to go as such, he quickly revised his plans. In fact, this way might turn out even better for him. He curled his lip tauntingly at the man across from him. "A wife, my good man, should be kept in line by any means necessary, like a dog or horse. You never did learn that with your own wife, did you?"

Francis lunged forward with a growl as Richard and Jack grabbed his arms again.

Shaftesbury grinned and leaned toward Francis, lowering his voice. "She is my property, not yours, yes? I own her body and soul. I can do anything I wish to her. Anything at all. In fact, I could take her now and whip her like a bitch hound and there is nothing you can do about it."

Richard and Jack traded a significant look and released Francis. Enraged, Francis leapt forward and took Shaftesbury under the chin with a hard right. The earl's head snapped back and he stumbled backward, nearly dragging Eve down with him before he released her. Glenrothes caught his opponent's coat front and jerked him forward to meet a punch to the stomach, followed by another to the jaw that had him sprawled out on the floor.

Around them, guests gasped and whispered over the spectacle Glenrothes was making over the widowed countess and the other man whom no one seemed to know. Fisticuffs over the countess, right there at the duchess' ball! It was unheard of!

The whispers grew in excitement as the news travelled across the ballroom. Rumors were renewed of the supposed violence to his former wife and of his propensity toward physical abuse. Some who had dismissed the tales earlier were now reconsidering.

Shaftesbury struggled to sit up, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his bloodied lip. He examined the red stain on the linen and looked up at Francis with a strangely satisfied look on his face. "Interesting, Glenrothes. Your savage country's propensity for violence really knows no bounds, does it? I believe things will be much more interesting from this point." Expectantly, he turned to the crowd as Vanessa burst through and flung herself against Francis as he was trying to steady Eve.

"Oh, my lord! How can you do this?" she wept dramatically, her words projected enough to be heard to the farthest ends of the room. "How can you bring such humiliation and scandal down on us? Fighting over another woman, right in front of me?"

Francis shook her off his arm like an unwanted parasite and pointed a finger right at her face. "Stay away from me, Vanessa, or I might have to take his suggestion on how to control a wife."

"He has the right to take her." Her voice grew low and her eyes seductive as she toyed with his cravat, all weepy drama easily swept aside. "Let him take her away and we can start over."

"You knew?" His voice was low and fierce with realization. A quick look at Eve told him she was already aware of the woman's duplicity. "You were in this together?"

"Oh, darling." Her chuckle was sultry. "Don't make such a fuss."

"Get out of my sight before I strangle you right her!" He pushed her roughly away from him and turned back to Shaftesbury. "You, too. Get out!"

Shaftesbury looked about the room with a satisfied air and nodded regally, tugging at the bottom of his waistcoat. "Very well, I can see that no further progress will be made here, but I will present myself in the morning," he directed this to Eve, "and I expect to be received."

Eve nodded jerkily, realizing everyone's attention was focused on them. She raised her chin a notch and stared at the crowd unperturbedly, giving the impression to them all that she hadn't a care in the world. Shaftesbury made an elegant bow to the crowd and sauntered cockily toward the front doors with Vanessa scrambling after him, leaving a fury of questions in his wake. "Who was that?" "Does anyone know him?" "Did you hear Glenrothes threaten him?" "And his wife?" "Fighting over the countess, with his wife right there?" "They divorced, you know." "Well, the countess is very lovely."

"Eden, are you all right?" Francis' concern was evident in his voice as he took her hands and rubbed them between his.

Though Eve wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his embrace and weep like a child, she drew her hands away and squared her shoulders, sweeping her serene expression over the assembled crowd. When she spoke, her voice was cool and detached. "Perhaps we should all retire back home and I shall attempt to explain what is going on." Four other heads nodded, seeing the sense of her words even as Francis ground his teeth in frustration at seeing the properly cool countess come back into play.

Eve turned to their hostess who now hovered nearby. "Your grace!" Eve offered a curtsy and pleasant smile to the duchess that showed nothing of the turmoil that was threatening to send her reeling. "I must apologize for such a scene. I fear we have quite ruined your lovely ball, though I am quite gratified that Lord Glenrothes was able to rescue me from that strange man. The fisticuffs are, of course, regrettable but the man was most insistent!"

The Duchess of Roxburghe waved away her apology. "A good scandal always makes everyone who didn't attend wish they had. However, I agree, that was quite the contretemps. Do you need a place to lie down? Or in the larger scenario, is there anything I can do for you?"

"I appreciate the offer, your grace, but no, I don't believe I need assistance. Not at the moment at least."

"Well, keep me in mind if you do. Roxburghe pulls quite some weight." The duchess turned to Francis, raising her hand to him. "I was friends with your mother, my lord, did you know? She would be outwardly appalled by the display you have put on here tonight."

Regaining his composure, Francis took her offered hand and kissed it. "I apologize for upsetting you, your grace."

"Upsetting me?" the older woman laughed and fanned herself. "Nonsense, I did say outwardly, did I not? Your mother and I always enjoyed a fine knight in shining armor rescue in our day. Inwardly, she would applaud your chivalry in defending Lady Shaftesbury against that man. Who was he anyway? I do not recall inviting him."

Glenrothes shrugged as if he had no clue or care, determined not to let Eve's efforts go to waste. "I haven't the faintest idea, ma'am, but he was trying to lure the lady outside with him most persistently."

The duchess winked at Evelyn. "Thankfully then, you had Glenrothes available to come to your rescue. I will be sure to pass that information along to any that might have mistaken the situation for something it was not. However, Glenrothes," she chided, leveling him a motherly glance, "you should look after your former wife in company. Divorced you may be, but her actions do reflect upon you."

"Aye, your grace." Francis bowed as the others said their good nights, and they made their way outside, where Eve was quickly bombarded with questions which she begged off until they arrived back at the townhouse.

# Chapter 38

Naturally, her first course of action was to check on Laurie, finding him safe and asleep in the nursery. After putting a pair of footman to guard the door, Eve returned to the adults gathered in the drawing room to recap what had happened. Seating herself on a settee near the fire, she told them about being intercepted by Shaftesbury in the hallway and his threat to Laurie. Noting the glaze coming over her eyes as she recalled those threats, Francis sat next to her and pressed a glass of Scotch whisky into her hand. She sipped gratefully. The burning liquid traced a path down her throat and soothed her nerves.

"So what are you going to do?" Abby asked when she was finished.

"I don't know," Eve sighed. "I don't want to go with him."

"You won't go with him," Francis corrected firmly. "You have no reason to."

Richard added his reassurance, "Laurie is safe here and can be guarded against abduction and, therefore, cannot be used to manipulate you."

Francis nodded in agreement. He had been appalled and enraged by the man's threat to young Laurie, not just for Eve's sake, but because he had become very fond of the young earl these past weeks. Just recalling the evening's events brought back the overwhelming fury he had experienced when faced with Eve's husband. Husband! He felt a growl of displeasure forming deep in his throat before he swallowed it back. Never in his life had he felt such a need to unleash his wrath upon a person as he had that vile Shaftesbury. He tamped down the anger consoled with the certainty that he would have his chance and directed his attention to the matter at hand. "And, since most of Edinburgh recognizes your son as Earl Shaftesbury and is aware of his age, I would not think that your... Shaftesbury will be able to claim that status in town or have credit extended to him under that identity. That means no one yet knows, or at least believes, that he is your husband."

Eve shuddered in horror. If it became known that she wasn't actually a widow, the damage to her reputation would be beyond repair! "I don't want anyone to become aware of that fact either."

"If he's even claiming to be the earl," Jack drawled as he leaned casually against the mantle. "My guess is that when he was denied by your staff in England, he realized he cannot use his title as he was declared dead. It doesn't sound as if he's taken the time to go to London to announce himself to the Queen and be reinstated as earl."

The others nodded and agreed that it was unlikely. "So he's most likely just using his given name sans title," Francis concluded. "Or an alias."

"At least there is that." Eve took another long sip of the whisky. "I could not bear it if it became widely known that my husband is alive. The scandal..."

"Damn the bloody scandal, Eden!" Francis burst out and squatted before her, taking her hands in his. "I cannot care about scandal when we have much bigger problems. We need to keep him away from you, from Laurie, and from announcing to everyone who he is until we can find out legally where you stand, not because of the scandal but for your own safety. Are they even legally married anymore?" he questioned the room at large.

No one knew.

"You're right," Eve conceded, trying to set aside her concerns. "We need to focus on the bigger issue. What do we do?"

"First, I'll visit my solicitor first thing in the morning to figure out the legality of this whole mess." Francis paced away, his steps as animalistic as a lion on the prowl, and turned to refill his own glass. "If you are still married – legally, that is – you can petition for the divorce as you had planned before."

"I say we just find him and dump him in the firth." Jack raised his glass in a mock toast. "If no one knows who he really is, and the earl is already dead on record, then there should be nothing to it." He tipped back the glass with a satisfied nod. "Not even a crime, really, as the fellow's already dead."

"While Merrill's idea does hold a certain appeal," Francis snorted (since actually it held a lot of appeal given his current mood), "perhaps that shouldn't be our first course of action."

"It does raise another question though." Abby tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Where is he staying? Does he even have funds available to him at this point? I mean, he probably cannot draw on the Shaftesbury funds at any of the local banks, given most know Eve here."

"Good question," Francis nodded. "We should check the hotels and find out where he has been staying and what kind of resources he has available here."

"There's something else that is bothering me though," Eve considered. "Does it not seem, upon reflection, as if he were trying to provoke you into creating a scene? As if he wanted you to attack him? He was set on dragging me out of the room, but once you reacted, he gave in calmly. Too easily."

"That's true and an excellent point. I had noticed it myself. And Vanessa," Abby added, "she knew who he was, didn't she? Hadn't we been thinking this week that she was up to something?"

Nods of comprehension flowed through the room. "They're planning something together," Moira put in. "They are trying to ruin the two of you somehow!"

"But to what purpose?" Eve asked. "William abhorred the thought of scandal beyond anything. What might he gain by bringing one upon us now? I would think that getting Laurie and I out of here quickly and quietly would be more to his benefit."

"So for some reason, they want the attention, the gossip." Francis rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "It gives us much to consider."

# Chapter 39

"A William Ashley-Cooper is here to see you, my lady," Hobbes announced late the next morning. His voice was skeptical and filled with enough disdain to rouse the ire of the man who entered the parlor behind him.

"Your job is in jeopardy, man. Learn quickly to respect your betters lest you find yourself on the street."

Hobbes bowed formally, saying only, "The streets may hold an alluring appeal in the weeks to come, sir."

William gaped at the butler. "That's it! You are relieved of your duties. Leave!"

"While one must appreciate your... fervency on the matter, sir," Hobbes replied with his haughtiest intonation, "I fear that I care little for the words of one with so little... standing."

"Why you..!" Ashley-Cooper burst out, only to have Eve's cool voice cut him off.

"That will be all for now, Hobbes. You may go." Eve caught the wink and near smile the butler cast at her before turning smartly.

"Send the tea cart," the once earl snapped.

"Refreshments are reserved for guests, sir." Hobbes rebutted in a low voice as he left the room and Eve pressed her lips together to stop the smile that threatened.

Dear Hobbes! Eve had been waiting anxiously in the parlor for two hours now, anticipating William's arrival. Her nerves were frazzled to near apoplexy by the time the door chime had rung. She must remember to express her thanks to Hobbes for relaxing those nerves so handily before she had to speak with her husband. She felt more powerful facing this dreaded interview knowing she had such staunch allies.

"Will you sit, William?" she asked in her most cordial voice, determined to allow no trace of fear or nerves to show.

"I want him dismissed," he demanded with cool disdain.

"I assure you, he will never head your household," was all she offered.

Ashley-Cooper paced for a moment before he visibly regained his calm and sat flipping the tails of his morning coat dramatically. "Well, wife, what have you to say?"

Eve folded her hands perfectly in her lap and regarded him evenly. The past year had aged him quite a bit. Though he was in his middle forties, William had always looked much younger with his fair boyish looks, but now he seemed more haggard, his blond hair dulled, if not grayed. But he was colder as well. Evidently more erratic. The William she had known would never have shown anger as he had done with Hobbes. This man was unpredictable. That was enough to scare her. "I have a solicitor this morning examining the law to determine whether we remain legally wed."

"We are, of course," he insisted. "You are my wife."

"As I said, that remains to be seen." The countess took a deep breath. "Beyond that issue, what may I help you with? You said you had wanted to see me. Why?"

"I have come to fetch you home."

"Beyond that issue, I said."

"I want to see Lawrence. Bring my son to me, now," he ordered with an imperious hand that Eve studied even as her heart trembled in fear. William had always been like that. The king of his realm, his every whim to be granted. She had given into it for so long, her strength to rebel quashed by the force of his presence.

"I fear Laurie is not here at present," Eve offered, with just enough of a touch of false regret in her voice to bring a frown to his face.

"You know I have always hated that common nickname," he told her. "Fine. Where is he then?"

"His tutor has taken him to the Scottish National Portrait Gallery to discuss the history and historical figures of the area." It was a complete lie, of course. While they had made that trip the previous week, Laurie was currently in the nursery at his lessons with a bevy of footmen guarding him against any attempts by William to steal him away. "After that they will be spending the afternoon at the Central Library.

"At least you have kept up his lessons," William said snidely.

"I thought you cared nothing for your only child, William," Eve sniffed in disdain, though her insides were churning with fear and uncertainty with what was to come. "I believe you said last night that you could make another just like him."

"I was angry, of course," the once earl brushed away the rebuke as if it had mattered not. "Your behavior these past weeks has quite raised my temper. All about town is abuzz with the gossip of your affair with a married man. The scandal is appalling."

"He is not married."

"His wife feels that he did her a serious wrong in forcing the divorce," he said mildly. "Many influential people in town sympathize with her plight."

"She is a bitch and a liar!" Eve retorted, raising her voice just slightly.

William tsked, shaking his head with mock sorrow. "You see? Listen to yourself. Is it my absence or the influence of these rustic Scots that has brought you to this? It seems my constant vigilance is needed to keep you in line."

"You don't scare me anymore, William!" she yelled in a quavering voice, standing with her fists balled at her sides. But he did. He scared her to the core with his glacial eyes and tone that spoke of all the things he might do to control her. "I have friends now, William. Not just the ones that you allowed me but real friends that will never let you hurt me or Laurie."

"Who?" he sneered. "That pitiful Scot and his low family?"

"That pitiful Scot is twice your size and could beat you into the ground if he chose," she told him with satisfaction.

William sauntered closer to her and though she wanted to flee in terror, it was all Eve could do to stand her ground. But when he gripped her upper arms and shook her, Eve couldn't stop the squeal of terror that escaped her. "Let me go!"

"Let her go," a deep voice repeated the order from the doorway and Eve sagged with relief that someone had come to help her, even if it wasn't the certain someone she needed right now.

"Who are you?" William scowled at the newcomer, not releasing Eve's arms.

"I am one of those friends she just warned you about." Jack Merrill strolled into the room with his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He was the picture of casual nobility in his dark gray morning suit, his dark hair windblown while his golden eyes held nothing more than condescension.

"Ha!" William spat out, taking in the unfamiliar intruder with a jaundiced eye, "another lover, more like." He glared back down at Eve with a disgusted sneer. "Have you whored yourself for every rustic in the area then?" He shook her roughly again and shoved her away. Jack rushed forward to steady her before she fell.

"Are you alright?" Jack whispered as he led her to a chair and eased her down.

Eve looked up into Jack's golden eyes and clearly saw concern and caring in eyes that had never done more than mocked or teased. "I'm fine. Thank you so much," she said gratefully.

Jack shrugged off her thanks and the arrogant light returned to his eyes as he turned and faced Ashley-Cooper with his full height and brawny Scots body, crowding out Eve's view of her husband.

Haddington was all earl as he glowered at the slighter man before him. "I can't believe you married this scrawny aristocrat, Evie darlin'," he drawled as he circled the other man slowly, a mocking grin curling his lips.

William drew himself up, but then withdrew a bit in the face of Merrill's unruffled arrogance and burly size. "I was having a discussion with my wife. You have no right to interfere."

Jack merely shook his head with a cluck of his tongue. "You know, last night my initial solution to your presence was merely to kill you and have done with it. In my mind, it is quite the quickest and easiest solution and, truly, what is another weighted body in the river? I do so hate wasting my time with such triviality as you represent." His voice was uncaring, nonchalant, and William's eyes widened slightly.

"Heathens such as he are your friends now, Evelyn?" William sneered, though Eve could see some trepidation in his eyes. While Francis' threat the previous evening had been one of angry aggression with a palpable potential for physical harm, Eve realized William had been prepared for what it entailed. Jack's offhand threats, it seemed, presented an incalculable risk that left her husband with some apprehension, if not outright fear. It was a pleasure to see.

Eve looked up at Jack with an amused half-smile twitching the corner of her mouth. "It would seem so."

Jack waved a bored hand. "Why don't you leave now, before I decide to proceed with my first instincts? I do have a bit of spare time this morning. Then we can be done with this."

"Fine," William's voice grew low and cool. "I will go for now. Evelyn, I want you ready in two days to return to London. I am quite done with this backwoods place and have other business to take care of. Did you hear me?"

Eve tilted her head to the side at his frosty tone and stared at him for a minute. "I did hear you, William."

"Then see that you obey as you vowed to do!" William turned on his heel and stomped out of the room, leaving Eve and Jack staring at each other.

"Did that bastard hurt you?" Jack asked, his previous worry once again showing in his eyes.

Holding her hands out before her, Eve could see that they had started to shake and a tiny sob escaped her, but it was enough for Jack to squat before her and take her hands in his. "Tell me you're fine."

"I'm fine," she parroted, but when his arms came around her, Eve accepted the comfort and leaned her cheek against his shoulder while tears of relief flowed from her eyes. "I was so scared when he grabbed me. I thought he was going to try and drag me out of here. He is so angry, Jack."

"He didn't look too mad."

"The quieter and calmer William gets, the angrier he is," she said into his shoulder. "He was quite livid."

"Good thing he left then."

Eve accepted his embrace for a couple more minutes before she drew back and met his eye as he remained on his haunches level with her. "Thank you, Jack," she said simply. "That was most decent of you."

"I would rather have ripped his head from his shoulders," he shrugged carelessly.

"You know, you might, maybe, be just a little likeable." She squeezed his big hand between her own small ones affectionately.

Jack threw back his head and laughed, before raising her hands and pressing a kiss to them. "Does that mean you are ready to forsake Francis for me then?" he asked with a warm twinkle in his eye.

"No," she laughed, "but I might be more willing to tolerate your company from time to time."

They laughed, comfortable with each other for the first time. "I'm sorry I called you a swine," Eve offered.

Jack frowned in confusion. "When did you do that?"

"The first time we met."

"Oh, I was so drunk after accepting my fate to wed!" he chuckled. "I hardly remember our first meeting at all."

"Well, if you don't remember, I take it back," she responded pertly and joined him in laughter again.

"Am I interrupting something?" Francis asked from the doorway and as the misery of the last hour flooded Eve, she pushed Jack away and raced to Francis throwing herself into his arms.

"I say!" Jack sputtered as he sprawled on his backside. "Some thanks this is!"

"Thanks for what?" Francis asked as he held Eve against him. "I got a message from Hobbes while I was with my solicitor, but he merely said I was needed. What happened?"

"That bastard Shaftesbury nearly assaulted Eve!" Jack exaggerated and Francis started pulling back from Eve to stare down at her in concern.

"Are you alright? What happened?" He ran his hands up and down her arms as if to ensure that Eve was healthy and whole.

"Jack exaggerates, as usual," Eve rolled her eyes. "William came as we expected." They had agreed the previous evening that Francis would not be present for this morning's visit lest he and William come to blows and they lose the opportunity to discover the man's motivations. Eve had insisted that he instead see his solicitor to inquire after the marriage legalities. "He made some subtle threats, and not so subtle demands, and grabbed my arms."

"He was shaking her like a ragdoll when I came in," Jack corrected, brushing himself off as he stood. "Her head might have snapped right off."

"Jack really," was her scold, but she admitted, "I was scared, it's true, but thankful Jack was here to scare him off."

"Why weren't you there earlier?" Francis growled at his friend. "I asked you to be here first thing this morning."

"Overslept," Jack shrugged. "At least I was present when it mattered."

"He's right, Francis, leave him be," cautioned Eve when Francis looked ready to show his friend his fist. "He was here when it mattered and it is over with."

"For now."

"For now," she allowed.

"So what does he want?" Francis asked at length.

"Just what he said last night. He wants Laurie and I back in London. I'm certain he wants his identity and wealth back as well and might need me there to accomplish that. He seems insistent that we leave very soon." Eve crossed her arms. "He wants to punish me."

"He will not have that opportunity, I promise you," Francis assured her softly, cupping her cheeks in his hands. His thumbs caressed in slow circles as he lowered his forehead to touch hers.

"I know." Eve sighed when he lowered his lips to hers, brushing them lightly.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Jack interrupted the private moment. "Please! I haven't eaten as yet. Come Francis! So what says the solicitor, married or not?"

"He believes not, in the most basic generalities," the earl told them, giving Eve one last kiss before stepping aside. "In normal situations, anyway. The formality of the investigation of his death by the crown and the legal transfer of his title should mean that William Ashley-Cooper does not exist and Eve is a widow, but he is uncertain whether the ruling might be overridden when he presents himself at court and all his properties are reinstated to him." He cast a sidelong glance at Eve, who read the implications easily.

"And I am one of those properties," she said hollowly.

"It would depend how the courts rule. He may just get the properties and the marriage would remain dissolved, especially if you had already remarried," he hinted. "It behooves us to have it done quickly."

"If he is reinstated as earl, he will have legal right to Laurie," was her dull reply. "He will take my son from me."

"We won't allow that, Eve."

Eve stared up at him with pained eyes. "You won't be able to stop him, Francis. It would be his right. And before you say it, a divorce won't fix it either. He would still get custody of Laurie and where in the past he might have let me raise him just because he didn't like or need him, he would keep him now simply to spite me. To cause me pain."

"Eve..."

"No! You don't understand! How can you understand? I won't lose my son, Francis!" Eve cried and fled the room in tears. "I've been through too much!"

"Let her go, MacKintosh," Jack said as Francis made to follow her. "She's just upset right now. Give her time to regain her head."

"And you know her so well now?" Francis raised a brow. "Just what was that when I came in anyway?"

Raising both hands, Haddington backed away with a mocking smile. "Just comforting the damsel in distress, old man, nothing more. You needn't worry."

"I'm not worried."

"Good, then, tell me what else happened this morning."

"What do you mean?" Francis hedged.

"I've known you since we were in short pants, MacKintosh," Jack raised a brow. "Give over, something's eating at you and it isn't the husband."

With a sigh, Francis gave in, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "It's Vanessa."

"What's the bitch up to now?" Jack went to the sideboard and poured drinks for them both, handing one to Francis.

"The problem is, I'm not entirely certain." Francis took a long swallow of the strong Scots whisky and winced as it burned its way down. Satisfied, he took another. "She came at me this morning as I was leaving the solicitor. She was hanging on me and begging me not to be so cruel to her and such. She was wailing like a banshee, bringing all kinds of attention down upon us."

"Odd, that." Jack drank as well. "But we knew that she'd been trying to gain the sympathies of the Society ladies. Perhaps she is just trying to broaden the scope of her supposedly tragic life."

"But to what end?" Neither had an answer. Francis himself was becoming more bemused by the entire situation. Their marriage had never involved the fiction Vanessa was now spewing. There had been anger, for sure, over the whole situation and her infidelities, but he had never raised a hand to her, no matter how richly she had deserved it. With a mind not far from adolescence, his worst revenge had been to match her in the number of lovers he took. Violence had never occurred to him. His father had been a man who honored his wife and Francis had patterned his attitude toward women after that example. At worst, he had been reduced to verbal expression.

So, Vanessa was creating lies, making a spectacle of herself. That act might have garnered some sympathy for her and a little speculation about him, but it wasn't going to make her innocent in anyone's eyes or grant her respectability. No one liked a woman who made an exhibition of herself. Surely she knew, despite her pleas, that he would never take her back! What was her purpose then? And what was Shaftesbury's role in this whole mess? It was a perplexing situation.

"Perhaps we should find some of her former lovers to rebuke the gossip with the truth of her infidelity," Jack suggested, while they both rolled the problem around in their heads.

"I'd rather that scandal not raise its ugly head again."

"And being seen as a wife-beater and abuser is better than being a cuckold?" Jack snorted.

"Thank you, my friend," came the sarcastic retort. "I just wish I could figure out what they are planning."

"Don't we all?"

# Chapter 40

Eve was just climbing into bed that night when the door opened and Francis slipped quietly into her room. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, Francis, especially right now."

"I should always be here," he answered softly. "Especially right now." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. After a moment, she returned his hug. "How are you, paradise?" he whispered into her hair. "You haven't come back downstairs all day. Did you eat at all?"

"Some," she lied. "Mostly I spent the day in the nursery. I am so flooded with feeling. I'm shocked, stunned... scared," Eve admitted with a sigh. "Terrified. Exhausted. I can't believe this is happening, Francis. It was hard enough to deal with getting married again, no offense intended of course."

"None taken."

"But now I have to deal with a divorce as well."

"Then you haven't changed your mind?" The relief in his voice was evident. He had feared with Shaftesbury's veiled threat to Laurie that Eve would give in without argument. While a part of him wouldn't have blamed her, he had come ready to argue the issue.

"No, not at all," she told him with a negative shake of her head. "I will not remain married to him. I just need to find a way to keep Laurie out of it."

"I am proud of you, my love." Francis turned with her in his arms and sat in one of the armchairs in front of the fire, pulling Eve into his lap where she snuggled in and rested her head on his shoulder. It felt so very good to have his strength and comfort. She had not realized until just that moment how much she needed him, his presence, to see her through this. What a fool she had been, wish-washing back and forth about whether she should marry him. He had fought for her, she should have known all along that she should fight for him as well.

"I'm so sorry, Francis," she whispered. "I have kept you on pins and needles all week, vacillating about our relationship, when I should have told you I'd marry you from the beginning. I showed no faith in you. I doubted whether it might work out and now look at us, with an even bigger fight ahead. No, I haven't changed my mind. I knew over a year ago I could never live with William again and I do not intend to."

Francis squeezed her close and clapped a hand hard to her bottom. "Ooo, what was that for?" she squealed.

"For keeping me guessing."

"Not nice!"

"I could kiss it and make it better..." He waggled his eyebrows.

Eve's eyes widened at the idea before she shook her head. "Just stay with me tonight and hold me. I might have made some broad leaps lately but I'm not sure I'm ready to explore what might possibly be adultery yet. I just want to feel the strength of you while I sleep."

"Well, there's something we haven't tried yet," he teased with a sexual undertone. But acquiescing without argument, he stood, lifting her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Leaving her to scoot under the covers, he shed his clothes quickly and climbed in beside her, pulling her close to his side. The heat of his body warmed her instantly as she rested her head on his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart, his arms strong in their embrace but not uncomfortably tight.

She listened for a moment to his heart, his steady breathing and the crackle of the fire. Never had she felt as safe and secure as she did at that moment. It would be all right, she thought. It would work out. It might take time; Francis' divorce had taken years to be finalized. It would definitely take effort. But it would be alright in the end, as long as they had each other.

"I will need to go home to Da as soon as possible, I think," she murmured as she ran her fingers through the rough hair that covered Francis' chest. "We were married in New York and Da has several friends who are judges in high positions. He should be able to pay off enough people to get the thing done quickly."

"Very practical way of going about it," Francis chuckled, thinking of Shaftesbury's surprise were they to leave the country without his knowledge. Would serve the bastard right to wonder where they had disappeared to.

"If we can get it into the records as abandonment before William thinks to go to the Queen and Parliament to regain the title, it might hold up without having to have Parliament approve it as they needed to do for you."

"Maybe." Again he wasn't sure of the legalities of it all. Could a lord gain a divorce without parliamentary procedure? Did the American laws supersede? All he knew was that he wanted her freed from her marriage as quickly as possible. He wanted her for his own wife! He had already started planning for their wedding and didn't want to be put off for long. "We really need to go as soon as possible then."

"You will come with me?"

"To the ends of the earth, paradise."

"I love you so much." Eve yawned against his chest.

"As I love you. Sleep, paradise, we will figure it out in the morning."

# Chapter 41

Vanessa returned to her hotel suite that evening in high spirits, following a midnight rendezvous with a young lawyer she had met at the hotel's restaurant, and whispered into the shadowy rooms. "Shaftesbury, are you there?"

"You needn't whisper, my dear," the past Earl of Shaftesbury's voice replied from the darkness. "There is no one nearby to overhear you."

Vanessa turned a knob on the wall, raising the gas lights up enough to locate Shaftesbury in the room. She discovered him ensconced comfortably in an armchair near the empty fireplace, sipping from a glass of her best brandy. "Well, I merely thought to be careful since you wanted no one to know you are here."

"You know as well as I that it is best for our plan's success that you are seen with no male company at this point. However I realize that might be nigh impossible for you," he drawled. He had managed to keep his identity veiled despite his confrontation with Glenrothes at the Roxburghe ball. In the best circumstances, he would have taken Evelyn without anyone being the wiser, but unfortunately that portion of his plan had failed. The second part would not.

"You've kept me waiting, my dear."

"Sorry, my lord."

"But at least your day went well, I hear, better than I had even hoped. The town is abuzz with tales of Glenrothes' temper and vile deeds. However did you get him to throw you down on the cobbles this morning, my dear? It was quite brilliant." Ashley-Cooper tossed out the compliment knowing that she would seize upon it. Like a dog offered a juicy bone.

"He was so angry, I'm not even sure he realized he had done it." Vanessa dropped into his lap and kissed his bruised jaw and swollen nose before hugging his head to her bosom. "I told you he had developed a vile temper, didn't I?"

"You did indeed." Shaftesbury withdrew from her embrace and pushed her off his lap, with a firm squeeze of her breasts to soften the rejection. He had shared her bed several times over the past week. A year without female companionship was enough for any man to bear and she was ever so enthusiastic a bed partner, nearly insatiable in fact. She had served her role in that capacity as well as being the catalyst to ruining Glenrothes' image, but neither role compared to the part she was to play in the next phase of his revenge. Now she would take center stage as the play reached its climax. "Everything has progressed brilliantly. You have done such a neat job of it, in fact, I believe we may proceed with the next part of my plan."

She shrugged and went to pour herself her own drink. "The persona we developed for Glenrothes has borne truth through our recent encounters. He should already be feeling the sting of Society's scorn through the cut direct from them all. So what is next?"

"I have an urgent need for my wife to accompany me back to London as soon as possible. I'm under some amount of pressure to regain the fortune she has denied me by declaring me dead and only she can provide me what I need. At the same time, however, a reprimand is needed to demonstrate my power over her... a bit of retribution for her defiance and shameful behavior." He templed his fingers and stared at Vanessa thoughtfully before rising and moving to the window.

"Retribution?" she parroted, confused. "But when do I get my money?" Shaftesbury had explained to her who his wife was, or rather who her father was, and assured her he would pay handsomely for her aid in separating his wife from Glenrothes. She would most certainly need the funds to get by if she were to be unsuccessful in reengaging Francis after Shaftesbury forced the countess back to England. Vanessa's father had long ago disowned her for her 'disgraceful' behaviors, though she didn't think anyone else was aware of that fact. She had been on her own with only the money she had extorted from Glenrothes three years before and was running low on funds. She doubted her father would rouse himself to help her in anything beyond protecting the Westmoreland name.

"You will get your reward, my dear, when I have got my bit of revenge for the trouble my wife and her lover have caused me. This entire situation is quite beyond humiliating. Glenrothes has made a whore of my wife." His eyes narrowed as he flicked aside the curtains and looked down into the empty street. "For that they will both suffer."

"What are you going to do? Torture her?"

"No, I have something much better in mind," he answered. "I think to make her truly suffer I cannot hurt her directly, but rather hurt someone she loves."

Vanessa had the grace to look mildly concerned. "I may not be the best person alive but I don't hold with hurting children, Shaftesbury."

"Not my son, you twit." He was really getting tired of the woman. She truly had the most base intelligence. It was no wonder Glenrothes had gotten rid of her so long ago. "To make my wife truly suffer, I will have her watch someone she loves" – he drawled the word – "suffer in her place. Someone who deserves to be punished for touching what is mine."

"Francis?" she wondered out loud in surprise. "You can't kill him! If you do I'll get nothing! Everything else would go to Richard."

"I am not going to kill him. That would be over much too fast without the necessary pain and suffering on his part. No, it must be something with a bit more of a lasting effect."

"Like what? He's got more money than Croesus, you know?" she informed him. "The worst blackmail would hardly put a dent in his bank account."

William rolled his eyes. "Is money all you think about?" he sneered. "No, my dear, the punishment I have in mind for him will ruin him completely. It will blacken his name and deny him his life."

"I don't understand," she insisted. "I thought you were just planning on ruining his reputation. What else can you do to him? He is Glenrothes, do you know what that means?"

"Scottish titles," Shaftesbury dismissed with a sniff. "They mean nothing and it doesn't make him above the law."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, my dear," he said circling the room thoughtfully, running his finger along the sideboard and examining his dirty finger with a frown. "I am going to have him arrested and when I have Evelyn back in England, she will suffer not knowing of his fate, whether he lived or was hanged for his crimes. The process will be long and painful but with no chance of reprieve. In the end, Glenrothes will meet the hangman as punishment for his actions. They will both suffer." His smile was one of evil satisfaction.

"A peer can only hang for murder," Vanessa informed him, feeling a bit of uncertain panic race through her as Shaftesbury relayed his plan. "Even I know that. Anything else is a slap on the wrist. How are you going to get him to kill someone? It will never work. He won't do it."

"He doesn't need to do it, you dimwit. Everyone just needs to assume it was him." The earl circled the room as he neared her. "So it has to be someone he has a conflict with, someone who stands in the way of what he wants. Someone he has had a public confrontation with." He traced the back of his fingers up her throat before turning his hand to cup her neck in his palm lightly. "Someone he conveniently threatened to strangle very recently."

"You?"

"Why, my dear," William drawled with a low chuckle, circling his thumb lightly against her throbbing pulse. "That would be most problematic for me. No, no, I was thinking more of his lovely ex-wife, of course."

Confusion crossed Vanessa's features. "I don't understand... that's me!"

"Yes, it is and you have played your part beautifully, providing motive for such an evil deed. Perfect, lovely motive." With that, Shaftesbury wrapped both of his hands around her neck and squeezed, cutting off any sounds of protest as she fought against him, scratching at his hands and kicking wildly.

Her face reddened as she stared at him. "Not at all what you expected, is it?" her murderer asked, his eyes lit with a feral glee. "It's really quite a bit more than I did."

Only now when death was upon her did Vanessa see the evil in Shaftesbury. He had used her and now he was done with her. Stars burst behind her eyes as she felt unconsciousness creeping toward her from the blackness beyond. More the fool I, she thought.

The earl took several moments to enjoy her shock and pain before pressing his thumbs inward deeply effectively crushing her windpipe. He pushed her away and she fell to the ground, her eyes still open, staring at him, as the life slowly seeped out of her.

"My dear twit." The earl drew on his gloves as he looked down at her. Her lips were turning blue, now just shades lighter than her deep blue gown, and her eyes slightly bulging as her lungs struggled to pull air through her damaged windpipe. "You have been extremely helpful to me these past days. Truly, I couldn't have accomplished all of this without you. Even in death you will be so useful. You will be discovered here in the morning. Given your past and most recent contretemps, the authorities will naturally assume Glenrothes killed you in his rage over the many lovers you had taken and your recent dramatics. He will be sent off to prison before losing his own life to the hangman's noose. A fitting punishment for my wife, I think? To watch her lover die amidst a sea of public degradation?"

Putting on his hat, he tipped it to her slightly, poking her with his cane. "I thank you for your valuable assistance." He left without a backward glance.

# Chapter 42

Francis snuck out of Eve's room before dawn, leaving her sleeping. Nodding to Hobbes who stood, mouth agape, in the front hall, Francis went into the predawn mist back to his own home.

He was just finishing bathing and dressing back at his townhouse when a knock came on the door of his rooms. Without waiting for an answer, Jack strolled in, looking tired and rumpled in his clothes from the previous evening. "Good, you're up."

"Looks as though you haven't even been to bed yet."

"Oh, I've been to bed, just haven't slept." Jack stretched with a cocky grin. "I had promised Lady Hamilton my evening. Energetic lass."

"Married women will not get you the fortune you need, Merrill," Francis commented as he finished tying his cravat. "You might want to at least try for a widow if you don't like the debs."

"I was trying for a widow until you showed up and snagged her from me," he reminded. "Ah, but of course she isn't a widow any longer. I suppose I should be happy that I didn't get her an inch from the altar before her husband showed up and ruined my good fortune." He clapped his friend on the back as Francis grimaced. "Anyway, I am off to bed but I told Godfrey I'd let you know on the way up that there are some men downstairs waiting to talk to you."

"Men? Who?"

"Looked fairly official to me. I saw them come in as I was walking up the street. Bloody hell! You think they are here about that fight the other night?" Jack asked. "You think that jackass Shaftesbury went to the bobbies?"

"I don't think he would have much to gain in doing so," Francis answered with a shake of his head, though a puzzled frown furrowed his brow. "Man like that must know that the authorities tend to overlook such minor contretemps when nobility is involved. I suppose there is nothing for it but to go and find out."

"Can't wait to see this," Jack shrugged as Francis raised an eyebrow. "Could be interesting, besides, you might need a witness to your innocence."

Two men rose as Francis and Jack strolled into the drawing room. Jack was right, they did have an 'official' air about them. Both wore suits of middling quality, in muted colors and serviceable styling. The taller man was a bit older than the other, graying and dignified. Francis pegged him as the superior to the younger chap, who smiled at them with a kind of feral glee when they entered. "May I help you gentlemen?"

"Glenrothes?" asked the elder of the pair.

"Aye," he answered warily.

"Gerald Thompson, Edinburgh police. This is one of my detectives, Mr. Shaw." Francis shook hands with both men and indicated Jack. "Haddington." Jack also shook hands with both men as Glenrothes invited the pair to sit.

"I suppose I should get right to the point. I am sorry to inform you, my lord," Thompson began gruffly, "that your former wife, the countess of Glenrothes, was found dead this morning in her room at the Grand Hotel."

For a moment Francis sat stunned as the news sank in. A thousand thoughts chased one another around his mind. Vanessa was dead? How? When?

How strangely convenient... for him.

Not looking at Jack, who was gaping in amazement and struggling to keep any expression from his own face, Francis asked quietly. "May I ask how it happened?"

"Lady MacKintosh was found early this morning by one of the maids at the hotel," Shaw consulted a small notebook he carried with him. "Initial conclusion made by the coroner is that she was strangled and her windpipe crushed. She would have suffocated within minutes."

Francis absorbed that for a moment, waiting, trying to feel something. He knew he should but he felt... nothing. "How ghastly." It was incredible as well, though he didn't say that. A quick glance to Jack showed he was thinking the same thing. The murder of his wife had certainly made his entire life significantly more simple. "Who did it?"

The older man cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That is, of course, the other reason we are here, my lord, other than to inform you of her death. Rumor has it that you have been seen in several instances arguing with your wife in public."

Ah, there it was! "Ex-wife," he reminded blandly. "We have been divorced for many years, sir."

"Had been," Jack murmured.

Francis shrugged and agreed with his friend's correction of tense. "Well, aye, had been."

"How many years were you married?" Shaw poised a small pencil over his notebook.

"A dozen?" Francis thought out loud. "'Bout a dozen I suppose, by the time the divorce was finalized."

"Maybe eleven," Jack drawled keeping an eye on the younger detective as he lounged carelessly against the back of the settee and put his feet up. It set Shaw on edge, he could see with a glimmer of humor, that blasé indifference to the facts. "Could be... maybe." He raised a brow at Francis and both men shrugged as if the exact number were of no importance.

"And when did you get divorced, my lord?" Thompson continued, while Shaw glared at Haddington, who only smiled blandly back at him.

"It was approved by Parliament about four years ago."

"Rumors have been abounding across town lately that you were seen arguing with the countess Glenrothes in public venues several times over the past week, my lord," the detective went on. "Might I ask what you were arguing about?"

Francis took a deep breath, feeling irritation welling up in him. "I had not been arguing, my good man. She was. She wanted money, I simply wanted her to go away. I think those 'arguments' might also be defined as negotiations. What are you getting at?"

Shaw's eyes gleamed up at him over his spectacles. "Why did you divorce your wife, my lord?"

"Why does any man divorce his wife?" Glenrothes shot back, sensing that the younger man was somehow enjoying trying to put him on the defensive.

"Rumor also has it that you have been seen in the company of the Countess of Shaftesbury on several occasions recently." With that change of subject, Thompson inserted himself into the questioning, for Francis now knew that was what this was.

"The countess is a dear friend of my brother's wife and has been staying with them for several months." He tried to make his voice convey the most impersonal tone he could. "I have merely been a polite escort to my sister-in-law's friend from time to time, as has Haddington on numerous occasions. It is nothing more than that."

Jack nodded in agreement as he could also easily see where they were going with their questions.

"And the fight involving the countess at the Duke of Roxburghe's residence last night?"

"Merely defending a friend from an unwanted suitor," he shrugged it off.

"Seemed to be a bit more than that, I would say. So the countess is merely a... friend," Shaw asked slyly, but changed the topic again when Francis couldn't hold back a frown.

Thompson cleared his throat. "Why did you divorce your wife, did you say?"

"Because she was disposed to fucking every man she met." Glenrothes leaned forward, resting his arms casually, and spoke with bland sarcasm. "It tended to irritate just a bit. Surely any self-respecting man would have done the same in my place."

The men exchanged a look. "Is that how it was?"

"Indeed it was."

Jack chuckled dryly. "Could give you the names of a dozen men to back it up."

"Is that so?"

"There are sworn testimonials to the fact in the records from the Parliamentary inquest." Francis sighed as if he were bored with the entire subject. "Might we get to the point of this questioning, gentlemen?"

"Of course," Thompson conceded. "Where were you last night, my lord?"

"And there it is. You think I killed her, yes?" he asked, having no intention of telling them where he was last night. "Very well, I give you my word that I did not."

"And we should take your word on that?" Shaw sneered.

"I am Glenrothes," Francis informed him coldly, leveling him with a stare that had the young man suddenly studying his boots intently. "Aye, I think you should."

"And if we did not?" Thompson asked. "Then what?"

"Then I would ask you this. Why would I kill her?" he questioned with a raised brow, nobility leaking from his every pore. "I have no motive. Other than her constant requests for money – which I can easily afford, by the by – I have no reason even to bring her to mind regularly. She is naught but a nuisance and an embarrassment. A pest. And why now? Why would I choose this place and time? If I wanted to kill her, I have had plenty of opportunity over the past dozen years to do it quickly and quietly. If I were bent on murder, Mr. Thompson, I might have buried her in the gardens of my estate with no one the wiser. No one has seen her in town for years. So why do it now, right after we 'argued' in public and leave the body for it to be easily discovered, ready for fingers to be pointed at me?"

"Why indeed?" Jack agreed in a provoking tone.

Thompson stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So you admit that you would have liked to see her dead?" He raised his hand in submission as Francis started to argue the point. "Your arguments raise valid points, my lord, and, I will admit, the authorities are reticent to accuse or arrest noblemen in instances like this. Always messy. Much too public. Makes us look bad when we're wrong."

"Well, you are wrong now."

# Chapter 43

"Have you any alibi for your whereabouts last night?" Shaw persisted, disliking that his superior was backing down from the fight. Politicians! Personally he liked to see the nobles get what was coming to them every once in a while.

"I returned here after dinner with my brother's family last night." It was not a flat out lie, more a lie of omission. He had returned home after leaving Richard's last night. It had taken him no more than ten minutes to leave again.

"Is there anyone who can corroborate that?" Shaw prodded. "Haddington, perhaps?" Shaw took in Haddington's attire. "Although it seems that you are just getting in, unless you slept in your clothing?"

Jack scalded the man with a mean look through narrowed eyes that had the underling looking away quickly. "Is there anyone else, my lord?"

"My staff can verify what time I arrived if you would care to question them." They can also verify what time I came back in this morning, he added silently.

"And you were here all night?"

Clever to ask the question, Francis thought. That Shaw was no man's fool. "Where else would I be?"

"Where else indeed." Thompson clapped his hands on his thighs and stood.

Shaw was slower to stand but bent his head to his notebook again. "Just one last thing, my lord. We have a witness who says he saw you leaving the Grand Hotel at half four this morning."

"Your witness is wrong. I was nowhere near the Grand this morning." His words were instant and honest and had a ring of truth to them that anyone could recognize.

"Nevertheless, my lord..." Shaw looked up to see Glenrothes towering over him, large and arrogant. He couldn't resist taking a small step of retreat. "We will need to place you under arrest, pending a trial."

"I don't think that is necessary, Shaw," Thompson placated, politically aware of whom he might offend rushing into an arrest. Glenrothes had political power in Edinburgh and elections were coming up soon. "The earl will not leave town, will you, my lord?"

"Of course not."

"Of course not," Thompson forwarded the assurance to Shaw with a tight smile. "There is not sufficient evidence to make an arrest as yet anyway."

"But, sir!" the detective protested. "The witness!"

"Aye, the witness," Francis thought about that for a moment. "Who was the witness, if I may ask?"

"A desk clerk saw you leaving the hotel at half four," Shaw explained again.

"He saw me? Knew me by sight?" Glenrothes challenged with a doubtful tone. "I have not been to Town in several years other than to attend Parliament or do business, are you aware of that fact? I have never stayed in any hotel in this town. I would like to meet any hotel clerk who thinks he knows me by sight."

"He did not know you by sight, my lord," Shaw conceded, but added testily, "you asked him to make sure your wife, the countess, was not disturbed as you left."

"I find it an appalling insult to my intelligence that I would set myself up so easily to be accused of murder and leave such a blatant trail of my ill deed," Francis drawled, thinking that the whole deal would be humorous if they were not insulting his hard earned reputation... as well as his acumen.

"Your apparent idiocy knows no bounds," Jack agreed with a snort of laughter. "I thought you were smarter than that."

"I am smarter than that." Francis turned to Thompson. "Sir, I would like to meet this witness if I might? It would be interesting to see if I met him whether he would know who I was, because, I can assure you, the man he saw was not me."

Thompson considered that a moment and nodded. "That might be enough to clear you of all suspicion, my lord. Without his confirmation of your identity we have nothing other than rumor to tie you to the murder. I will set it up and have a runner let you know what time to come."

"I appreciate that." The two men shook hands as Francis steered the official toward the door.

"If there is anyone else you can think of who might have motive to harm your former wife, will you please let me know?"

"I do not know where she has been the last several years, but perhaps her maid might be able to offer some assistance?" Francis offered again, as if he hadn't given his ex-wife much thought of late. Which, he truly had not.

"Her maid?" Shaw inquired.

"There was no maid of hers at the hotel last night."

"Well, I would start there then. She went through them regularly, but I have never known Vanessa to be able to get through life without assistance." Francis ushered them to the door and said their goodbyes. Closing the door, he leaned against it and looked back at his friend.

"Vanessa is dead."

"Very convenient for you," came the drawled response.

"Incredibly convenient," he answered. "Can you think of anyone that might benefit from this?"

"There is you, of course."

"We already determined that, but someone set me up to take the fall for this," Francis said. "In fact, laid a very well marked path to my front door. Provided motive with all the recent arguments. Opportunity with the timeline."

"Don't forget the witness."

Francis nodded. "There's much anger behind this whole scenario."

"I have an inkling of an idea who might hate you that much."

"Indeed, as do I, but it doesn't quite fit to what we know yet." The question was obvious to Francis. "Why would Vanessa take part in a plan that ended in her death?"

"Might have come as a big surprise to her in the end."

A corner of Francis' mouth jerked up unwillingly at his friend's jest. "Indeed, I would wager she never saw it coming."

# Chapter 44

"This just gets worse and worse," Eve moaned, rubbing her temples, when Francis arrived back at Richard's at a more proper hour later that morning and told them what had happened. He had taken a long ride in the park to clear his head and consider recent developments before appearing at Moray Place. Jack had gone off to bed with a promise to be woken before Francis went to the police station. The incredulity of the whole situation still amazed him.

"She's dead?" Eve asked once again.

"She is."

"Strangled?"

"Aye, crushed her windpipe, they think."

"And you did it?"

"They think I did it, Eden." Francis leaned against the mantle as the ladies exclaimed amongst themselves over the morning's happenings.

Sensing that she had just wounded his feelings with her thoughtless words, Eve went to Francis and slipped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. "Well, I know you didn't do it, Francis, really," she huffed. "But why do they think you did?"

"Motive, opportunity and a witness," he replied, rubbing his chin against the top of her head. She tilted her head, brushing a light kiss against his chin before turning in his arms so she could see the rest of the room. A week ago such a public embrace would have been impossible for her to endure without embarrassment, much less initiate. It was amazing how much she had changed, or reverted, in that short time. She had longed to find the girl she had been within herself and it seemed that she was slowly emerging!

Francis continued, "We all know that Vanessa had been creating a nuisance of herself with all these very public outcries against me. Those confrontations where I have 'threatened' her and brushed her aside are being taken as motive to kill her. A demonstration of my tendency to violent behavior. I think it was part of her plan."

"Even she was not so brainless as to make a plan that ended with her murder," Abby snorted in a most unladylike way. "I mean she wasn't the brightest woman but she wasn't that stupid."

"I'm guessing that she didn't know the entirety of the plan," Richard deduced.

"Obviously," was Moira's wry reply. "And of course, she had a partner in crime. The one who put her up to it and killed her in the end."

"But who..." Eve's eyes widened as understanding dawned. "No!"

"Why not?" Francis tightened his arm around her and glanced down in confusion. "You don't think he has it in him?"

"I can't..." She shook her head in denial.

"Think about it," he insisted, not letting her back down from acknowledging the truth. "He comes to town. No one knows who he is. We can't find where he's staying. Vanessa was seen last week with an unknown man according to the maid Jack talked to, and I use that term loosely." He counted these off on his fingers as he went on. "He has threatened you, if you recall."

Eve put a trembling hand to her throat, thinking of all the times William's hand had surrounded it lightly as he had admonished her, his thumb stroking her throbbing pulse in such a menacing manner. The coldness, maliciousness of his eyes, so unfeeling as he watched others administer his punishments. It might have easily been her. It might very easily have been her.

It still might be.

For a heartbeat, she almost felt sorry that Vanessa had been taken in by him.

Almost.

"No, William was bad before and I think worse now. Unpredictable," she stammered. "I can easily imagine he is capable of it. I think of all the times..." she trailed off and Francis rotated her back into his embrace.

"Don't worry, Eve, we won't let him get anywhere near you," Abby assured her as Moira nodded along.

"So what do we do?" Moira asked.

"They are going to bring me down later to confront the witness," Francis told them. "There is no chance he will recognize me when I walk in and that should be enough to clear my name. That Thompson seems a reasonable man. If I can pass on the new information about Shaftesbury, I would wager he will look into the matter, but it would be better if we knew where to find him."

"We can have a few footmen campus the area around the hotel with a description and see if they can find him," Richard suggested.

"Good idea." Francis nodded. "Worst case, we might just have to have Lady Roxburghe put about that Eve and I have been engaged this week or two past, and Vanessa's ranting had been naught but jealousy or spite."

"Francis?" Eve bit her lip hesitantly before taking a deep breath. "As to the charges, why do you not just provide an alibi for your whereabouts last evening?"

He looked down at her for a long moment. "Because I don't have one, my love. I told them I was home all evening, but if they question my staff they will know it was a lie, providing truth to the opportunity to be the murderer."

"You know what I mean," she insisted with a flush of embarrassment. "Give them an alibi. Your alibi."

A long pause. He knew what she was suggesting, what she was willing to sacrifice to see the matter done, but he wouldn't do it. Wouldn't put her in a position that would publically humiliate her when his alibi was laid down in the records and published in the local newspapers. Such a confession would garner her no good attention and stain her reputation indelibly. Though he was proud of her for making the offer, Francis would not let that happen unless it came down to having absolutely no alternative to free him of guilt. "No."

The three other occupants shared speaking glances, for they all knew as well what Eve was asking him to do and what such an admission would do to her reputation. Richard broke the silence that surrounded her brother's abrupt dismissal of Eve's solution, "Francis, perhaps you should..."

"No," he repeated flatly.

"It is not your choice, Francis," Eve insisted, placing an imploring hand on his chest. "I want to do it. If you just let me..."

Francis caught up her hand and placed a quick kiss to her fingers before repeating, more tenderly, "No."

A throat cleared loudly in the doorway and they all turned to see Hobbes poised in the doorway while Guthrie bobbed behind him nervously. "Excuse me, my lady," he addressed Eve. "There are a group of common persons at the door insisting upon seeing Lord Glenrothes."

"Who are they?"

"They identified themselves as the local authorities, my lady." He offered a silver salver from which Eve pulled the called card of Mr. Gerald Thompson, detective. She shot a worried glance at Francis, who merely shrugged.

"Probably just calling to escort me to question the witness, as promised."

"In person?" Abby looked skeptical. "Here?"

"Thought he said he'd send a runner?" Richard asked.

"Are they in the hall, Hobbes?" Eve wondered if they might have overheard the discussion they were just having.

"No indeed, my lady. I left them on the front stoop."

Richard swallowed a bark of laughter while Moira smiled outright.

"Perhaps you should show them in then, Hobbes," Eve directed.

"Of course, my lady." The butler clicked his heels with a snap. "Would you like them at once or at your leisure?"

"Oh, I suppose we must have them now."

"Very well, my lady." Hobbes turned with a disappointed sigh and slowly retreated from the room and the minutes rang slowly before they heard the group approach them in the rear parlor.

The two suited authorities that came to the parlor door were backed by a trio of uniformed bobbies and in that moment Eve's heart leapt with dismay.

"Lord Glenrothes," the shorter of the two men rang out with a satisfied smirk on his thin face as he took in Francis' position with Eve by his side. "By the Crown's authority, you are hereby under arrest."

Calmly, the earl disengaged himself from Eve and approached the group unperturbedly, with all his bearing and authority shouting out his nobility. "Come, gentlemen," he drawled casually, "I believe we discussed this already. Your witness will not be able to identify me as the person he saw last evening."

"We know that, m'lord," Shaw told him.

"Then what is all this?"

"He can't identify anyone, because he was just found dead in the alley behind the Grand Hotel," was Shaw's gleeful reply. "I should have clarified it, huh? You are under arrest for the murders of Vanessa MacKintosh and Jimmy McDugal."

"Thompson?" Francis looked inquiringly to the senior detective.

"You have my most sincere apologies, my lord," the older man sighed. "There is nothing I can do unless you have an alibi."

"When was he killed?"

"Not long after we met this morning, my lord. He was sent to take a message down the street from the hotel at half nine this morning and a maid found him less than an hour later," Thompson read from his notes, indicating a period entirely encompassed by the time Francis had been riding. "Have you an alibi for that time period?" He added this last hopefully.

"Not unless someone saw me riding in the park," Francis admitted. "That is a possibility if you ask about. Very well, Thompson, what do you require of me?"

"We'll have to take you into custody, my lord, until your name can be cleared or until trial," the detective told him with clear regret.

"Very well," Francis straightened his coat, every inch the aristocrat. "Would you like to shackle me or might I just come along peaceably?"

"Not at all, my lord," said Thompson.

"Aye, let's shackle him," said Shaw at the same time.

"Francis!" cried Eve as she and the others gathered in protest.

"Truly, brother," Richard interjected. "You can't mean to go along with this when we all know you didn't do it!"

Francis leaned toward his brother. "Truth, brother, it might play in our favor to have it go this way. It might flesh Shaftesbury out and get him to show his hand. Watch over Eve and keep her safe," he added in a whisper.

"Have no fears, I will," Richard assured him. "I just hope you're right."

"I feel I am," Francis affirmed. "Work out a plan with Jack to locate Shaftesbury and you might want to call in James and the others for some muscle as well. Bring him to the station when you find him."

"Will do."

The earl stepped forward once more, but Eve could not let him pass. "Francis, do not do this! You have an alibi if you would just use it!" she hissed.

"I will not." His voice was uncompromising. "Nor will you. I want your promise."

Eve pressed her lips together rebelliously.

"Please just trust me, Eden."

When Shaw cleared this throat loudly, Francis made a bow to the ladies. "Lady Shaftesbury, I appreciate your concerns on my behalf. Rest assured the matter will be resolved soon." His voice was formal, showing no hint of their relationship and Eve supposed she should be grateful.

She was not.

"Stubborn ass!" Eve muttered under her breath when they had gone. "What can he possibly be thinking?"

"He's thinking of you," Richard said softly, recalling Eve to the fact that there were others in the room.

"While I do appreciate his heroic endeavors, Richard, I hardly expect your brother to hang for the sake of my reputation." The words were sharp and Eve cast Richard an apologetic glance as she buried her face in her hands. She was overwrought with emotions. Trembling and fearful one moment, anxious and angry the next. The impossible events of the past two days had set Eve on edge and delivered an overwhelming megrim that she wasn't likely to recover from any time soon. Her thoughts were blurred and dashed wildly from conflict to conflict. And now, not only did she have Laurie's safety to worry over, there was Francis' fate as well.

Accused of murder! Was there anything that might make it worse?

"My lady," Hobbes called from the doorway. "That odious personage from yesterday has again called requesting an audience. Might I send him away?"

There was no need to ask who that person was. Eve knew clearly it was the one man who might make it all worse. It was intolerable. "I am not at home right now, Hobbes. Please inform him."

"Very good, my lady." Though his expression never changed, Hobbes demeanor gave the impression in that moment that he was very pleased.

"Hobbes!" Richard called him as he turned away. "Send one of the footmen to follow him, would you?"

"With pleasure, my lord."

"Was that wise, Eve?" Richard asked, turning back into the room. "We might learn something from him."

Moira agreed. "He probably came here to gloat."

"I can't do this right now," Eve whispered, shaking her head in denial as the trials of the past days again threatened to overwhelm her. "I can't do this."

"Come on, Eve!" Moira chided.

"Stop, Moira!" Eve ground out, balling her fists at her sides. "I can't do this! I know you all think I am so strong, that I can handle anything, but I can't. I'm not a strong person."

"Evie," Abby started.

"No, Abby," she begged for understanding. "I might have been sassy, saucy, daring – whatever you might call it – as a girl, but that is not the same thing! I have been tested for the past eight years and I have come out defeated. I can't fight William when all I have inside of me is fear. Yes, I admit it!" she cried when they all stared at her in surprise. "I am afraid of William and what he might do. To me. To Laurie! Look what he has done to Francis! He would see the man I love dead. Dead! I know it! I should have caught on before, when William said the other night that his punishment wouldn't be only for me. This is his punishment for Francis and myself as well. He wants to see me suffer. I am! And I am terrified that we cannot stop it! I wish he would just take me and leave Francis out of it! I'd rather he did than let Francis endure this!"

Tears were pouring down her cheeks as Eve vented out all the feelings she had repressed these last years. She was trembling and weak in the knees when Richard came over and took her gently in his arms, rocking her against his broad chest as if she were one of his infant girls.

Over her head, he looked at his wife and saw the tears of sympathy in Abby's eyes for the pain of her friend. The look they shared admitted they would feel that exact same fear if the other were in jeopardy. What was true love if not the realization that you would forsake yourself for your mate? He would give up anything, including his life, for Abby. And if anyone were to threaten her?

The very thought of his angel in danger was enough for Richard's heart to clench in despair, but it was quickly followed by anger. This bastard was not going to win this game!

"Eve, look at me," he said softly and waited until she tilted her head back to look at him. Her eyes and nose were reddened, her cheeks flushed and blotchy. Her nose ran a bit. She was not a pretty crier, he thought with a touch of amusement, though no doubt Francis would think she looked simply lovely. "We are going to fix this, all of us together. Do you understand? You do not have to be strong alone, because friends are here with you. We are all here for you. However, I firmly believe you are stronger than you think. You may have felt fear, but you have not faltered. You never ran or took the easy way out. Fear doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. Only a fool would say he felt no fear in those same situations. In fact, I would say I have rarely met anyone as brave and strong as you."

Eve sniffed and dashed a hand across her eyes with a wavering nod. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm sure Abby has told you I never say anything just to make someone feel good." Richard pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her eyes and surreptitiously wiped her nose as well before balling the cloth into her hand. "Better?"

"A bit," she admitted. It had felt good to shout out all her worries even if the others might think her insane and weak for doing so. Years of bottled up emotions leaked their way out of her body, leaving her trembling and a bit giddy. Even her mind seemed to have a new clarity. She smiled up at Richard. "Abby is very lucky to have you."

Richard's eyes dashed up to smile at his wife before returning to her. "Aye, she is, as Francis is very lucky to have you. Now, are you ready to face this thing?"

"Possibly."

Richard arched an eyebrow.

"Probably?" Eve amended and joined his laughter with a watery chuckle.

She turned to find the two ladies standing behind her, wringing their hands in worry for her and spread her arms wide. As the trio hugged one another, Eve whispered into the huddle, "You are the dearest of friends. I apologize for yelling at you."

"Everyone has their faults," Moira shrugged dismissingly. "So you're a raving lunatic, I think we can live with that."

"Moira!" Abby chastened. "She's not a raving lunatic... she's merely gone a wee bit batty," she teased, and they all laughed together, but her expression grew more serious. "You must be a she-wolf, Eve, protecting her young and her mate. Do you realize that? You cannot let this evil man take your life away."

"I know," Eve swallowed deeply.

"At least you have your pack to back you up," Moira chimed in with a cheerful smile, as they all hugged again.

"Well, this is most curious," Jack drawled from the doorway. "I feel I must have missed something important."

# Chapter 45

The spring air that afternoon was crisp. The gentle breeze tousled her hair and soothed her with its cool caress. The small garden behind Richard's townhome was a peaceful oasis to her worry and misery. It looked out over the Water of Leith, a stream that could be reached by a footpath behind the housing row. The sound of its rushing water sang softly to Eve, the delicate lacework of shadows cast by the trees cooled and calmed. Laurie played , practicing his golf swing on the small open lawn between the steep descent to the water and the rear of the house. Trist played along as well, swinging his own small club, and balls littered the area since few of their swings produced a drive of more than a few yards.

Calling an occasional bit of advice or encouragement, Eve watched her son with quiet pride. Perhaps when this was all over and she managed to wed Francis, they might have several more children, perhaps a dozen, like his own family. She smiled at the thought. Francis would make an excellent father, she believed. He would not be one to consign his children to the nursery and have them brought down for an occasional inspection. Eve could easily picture him lying on the floor playing at toy soldiers with his son or even maybe taking tea with a daughter.

She wanted that with him. Marriage with him might be something beyond her experience but was certainly worth exploring. Their love would be constant and sharing, their lives filled with laughter and affection. With a sigh, Eve felt as if peace were flowing over her as she imagined their future together. Regardless of recent events and her emotional outburst, she had to believe that all would be well. Even now, Richard and Jack were mapping out the details of their plan. The footman sent to follow William had lost him on the busy streets of Old Town so they only knew that he was somewhere near the east end of Edinburgh, an area comprised mostly of public and government buildings.

Currently the plan was to hide some of the bobbies in the house, and when William came again she would attempt to get a verbal confession from him within their hearing. As a back-up plan, the men were assigning areas for their posse of sorts, comprised of footmen and stable boys, to ferret out William's hiding place in Old Town and coerce a confession from him that would free Francis from his incarceration.

It would take a confession. They were all sure of that, since all the evidence, as circumstantial as it was, pointed directly at Francis while there was nothing they knew of to implicate William. So, merely bringing William in might not be enough to exonerate Francis. But Eve felt confident that they would prevail. Where an hour before fear and doubts had clouded her mind, the release of that anxiety had allowed her to see that truth was on their side and in the end would win out. It was the defense of the naïveté perhaps, but she was sure that once William was located they might be able to compel a confession within the hearing of some authority.

The trees rustled behind her and Eve froze as she became aware of an ominous presence behind. Her initial instinct was to panic as unwilling fear flared to life within her once more, but Eve took a deep breath and pushed it aside ruthlessly. Though she could not stop her body from stiffening reflexively, she was pleased that her voice emerged cool and calm. "Not even bothering to come to the front door any longer, William?"

"How did you know it was me?" he asked as he strolled casually into her line of sight and leaned against the trunk of a large oak.

"You reek of incivility," she sniffed haughtily. "How did you get back here?"

Shaftesbury shrugged and said only, "It was quite simple really."

"I believe I told you I did not want to see you, William," she said, keeping her eyes on her son and avoiding his steady gaze. "Why did you come earlier?"

"I confess I was curious as to what might be happening inside." William removed his gloves and slapped them idly against his thigh. "When I arrived there were several police officers out front and I wondered to myself what might possibly be amiss."

"I'm sure you were very concerned," she replied with a touch of sarcasm. "While I appreciate it so deeply, your worry is completely unnecessary. The police have only escorted Lord Glenrothes to the coroner to identify the body of his ex-wife. It seems that she was tragically murdered last night."

Shaftesbury tsked with a shake of his head. "I had heard. Tragic, indeed. It is the talk of the town," he went on with a neutral tone. "The locals are calling for blood and demanding justice be done."

"Justice will be done," she said with conviction.

William shook his head and tsked again in a chiding manner. "Are your affections so fickle that you care not that your lover has been arrested for her murder? Yes, I know he has. Of course, one should distance oneself from such a scandal so you are probably quite correct in your behavior. One never wants to be linked to a man about to be hanged at the gallows." He turned his head and watched the boys playing through the trees, though they could not see him.

"I told you they did not arrest him, William," Eve lied blithely. "He is a peer of the realm, did you forget? They do nothing here to their nobility. They are untouchable. Even if they thought he did it... were certain he did it, they would do nothing to him."

"He is a highland heathen among more heathens!" he declared in disbelief. "These people live for violence. I'm surprised a mob hasn't demanded his head already."

"You do not know anything, do you?" she questioned mildly and was strangely pleased to see his jaw clench at her insult. "He is Glenrothes, William. His title is ancient and his wealth immense. He donates freely to the arts and orphans. He is a god among these people. They will not touch him."

When he remained stonily silent, she went on, "In truth, they have another suspect in mind and the earl is assisting them in developing a description and search for the true culprit." Bluffing was not a strong suit of Eve's at all. She had never been a good card player but years of denying William the satisfaction of seeing her misery during his punishments had given her some talent. She would not allow him that satisfaction now and she knew that was what he wanted. He wanted her upset. He wanted to see her mourn for her lover. This was his punishment. This is what his twisted mind had come up with. A deed that not only reprimanded her, but castigated Francis as well. A blow to take them both down. William had always been evilly clever.

Her resolve only strengthened at that realization. William would not get that pleasure from her again.

"You lie," he hissed.

"I do not." Eve finally looked up and leveled him a cool glare. She was so enjoying turning the tables on him! And look at him! His expression was confused and disgruntled. It was not at all what he expected to hear. In truth, he had probably come here expecting to find her in tears, wailing and bemoaning Francis' fate! Her voice took on a gleeful satisfaction as she lowered her tone to ape a gypsy fortune teller. A portent of doom. "They know it was you, William. They know you did this horrible thing and framed Francis. They are coming for you! You will not get away with it!"

Incredulity froze his features as he scanned her, searching for the truth. After a moment, his expression evened and he lowered himself until his face was inches from hers. "Oh, but I will, my dear, and do you know why? Because if they come for me, I will send your precious Laurie to the bottom of the loch in a burlap sack!"

Bravado fled. "You wouldn't!" Eve gasped in shock. "He is your own son!"

"Which one is he?" he asked, absently looking at the boys nearby. "I confess I cannot quite decide. Perhaps I will just kill them both."

With a blink of horror, Eve could only gape at him.

Shaftesbury leaned back against the tree and studied his fingernails dispassionately. "You would be surprised how a year in a Chinese jail can change a man, my dear. It can truly set a man's priorities apart. There will be no humiliation in my life again from any source and that means from you. Your behavior with the earl is beyond shocking. The expediency in which you had me declared dead, appalling. But I need you to gain my fortune. Then perhaps I will do away with you as well," he shrugged. "And, as I mentioned before, I can always make another son."

The blood drained from her face over the course of his monologue. "You've gone mad!" she whispered in horror.

"Merely determined, my dear. There is nothing I will not do to get what I want," he added. "Please keep that in mind as we move forward. Your brief love affair caused this, Evelyn. It is all your fault."

"Glenrothes has been my love since before we married, William," she hissed as her disgust was pushed aside by anger. Mother wolf indeed. "He has held my heart for longer than I have known you. I have been his lover for years!"

"Lie!" he spat and brought back his hand forcefully catching her across the cheek and throwing her to the ground.

From the ground, Eve glared up at him, holding her cheek. The pain of his blow ringing through her head. Rationality fled and she could not stop the further insult that fell from her lips. "Laurie's not even your son."

"Mummy?" Laurie called in a shaking voice as he saw his mother fall to the ground. "Mummy, are you all right?"

"Run away and get help, Laurie," she urged, desperately as she scrambled to her feet.

"Mummy?" the boy hesitated, wanting to protect his mother but scared as well. Nonetheless, he gripped his golf club tightly and squared his little shoulders. "Move away from my mother, sir," he ordered William with all the authority ingrained in him.

Shaftesbury stared at the boy with an odd mixture of pride and loathing. He searched the boy's features but saw only Evelyn stamped there. There was nothing of him, but still, she must be lying. Lawrence was his son, he was certain. If for no other reason than he had never allowed his wife any freedoms that might allow her a lover. "Put down the club, son. Don't you know who I am?"

"No, sir, we have never met." Eve couldn't entirely stop the rush of pride she felt at hearing her son's disdainful tone. "I will have to ask you one more time to leave."

William chuckled. "You would fight me? Did you not know that I am your father?"

"My father is dead, sir," he piped certainly, as Tristram wandered over, curious as to what was happening.

"I'll tell you what." William reached out and grabbed Eve, pulling her over to him. "You come for a little ride with your mummy and I promise not to hurt her. What say you?"

The boy wavered, his gaze frantic on his mother's as he tried to determine what to do. Eve fought against William, trying to get away and cried desperately, "Run, Laurie! Run, Trist!" William backhanded her once more as he started toward the boys.

"Get Uncle Richard!" she cried as she spat out blood. "Trist, get your papa!"

The boys took off at a run as William turned and glared down at her. "Unwise, my dear. Come along then. We must leave now." He pulled a pistol out of his pocket and aimed it at the backs of the fleeing children with a considering expression. His aim moved from one boy to the other as they retreated.

"NO!" Eve screamed and threw all her weight against him. His shot went awry and the boys cried out in terror as they fled to the house. To her dismay, she saw that his gun was a Colt .45 six-shooter. A favorite of the Americans, she was surprised he would condescend to carry one. Still, he had five more chances in the gun to prove his point.

"Come with me now or I will shoot the others as they come out of the door," he threatened.

Eve could do nothing but nod shakily. "I will come, just put that away."

# Chapter 46

Hatred is blind, anger is foolhardy,

and he who pours out vengeance

risks having to drink a bitter draft.  
Alexandre Dumas – from The Count of Monte-Cristo

Pushing aside her fears, Eve braced herself against the sides of the carriage as William urged his driver to a faster pace. After a few streets, they slowed to a more reasonable pace and Eve was able to settle herself more firmly on the seat. William had dragged her along the footpath behind the townhomes to the end of the row, where his coach had been waiting on Gloucester Street. Though they had passed behind at least ten other homes, Eve had not seen another person. Such a quiet neighborhood was why the homes overlooking the Water of Leith were so fashionable. Without finding aid along the way, Eve had no chance to call for help or run away, but instead had been pushed into the carriage and whisked from the locality.

"Well, my dear, you made the correct choice and saved the lives of your friends." He adjusted his waistcoat and settled the pistol in his lap. "I realized quickly you were merely taunting me with your allegation of Lawrence's paternity. The time to have had such an affair was never made available to you, I see that now."

"Shut it, William," she hissed. "You are a vile bastard. Your very presence offends me in ways unimaginable."

William caught Eve's upper arm tightly, causing her to wince slightly and shy away. "It seems that your wild side tends to shine through when you are away from me, my dear. It will be my pleasure to reeducate you to a more becoming manner."

He patted her cheek, but Eve jerked away and glared at him. "There is nothing you can teach me, William. If I were you I would concentrate on my escape because right now a mob of angry Scotsmen are tracking us down and, believe me, they will kill you when they find you. Am I worth that much to you?"

"Unfortunately, my dear, you are," he curled his lip. "I need your company and I require you to be alive for a while longer. If I did not, I would kill you here and now for all the humiliations you have rained upon the earldom these past weeks."

"And you are a shining example of nobility?" she snorted in a most unladylike fashion. "What could you possibly need me for?" she asked idly as she scanned the passing scenery, trying to determine an escape from him. Now that Laurie and Tristram's safety was ensured, she turned her thoughts to saving herself from whatever evil he had planned for her. Where were they? It seemed that rather than heading out of town, they were moving toward the center, down toward the Mile that extended between Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood. She wondered why he would head into a populated area, but decided she did not care.

The town meant traffic and traffic meant they would have to slow. She could call for help. Surely someone would hear her. But would they assist her? People became notoriously blind and deaf when faced with violence. Better to ignore a cry for help than risk their own safety.

The droning of William's voice caught her attention and she turned back to him. "What did you say?" She hadn't even realized he had answered her question.

"I have bounty hunters from China tailing me and need access to funds, beyond the paltry amount of I have available, to bribe them into calling off their pursuit," he repeated angrily. "Because of your actions, I cannot even access the monies of the estate since I have been declared dead! It might take years to regain my position so I need you to get it for me!"

"You stole the vase back?" she asked in amazement, ignoring the bile he was spewing. "Even after you were put in jail for a year, you still stole the vase before you got away?"

"Of course I took the vase, and another as well, in fact," he snapped irritably. "I didn't spend all that time there for nothing."

"Incredible!" She blinked in disbelief, shaking her head. "I thought many things about you, William, but I never took you for an utter imbecile!"

Shaftesbury's hand flew out and slapped her, throwing her into the side of the window. Groaning against the window frame, Eve saw the buildings of Edinburgh's government district racing by. As the courts flew by in a blur, Eve gasped at the realization that she knew where they were. And if the courts were near...! She wondered if William had any idea.

She turned to see him glaring at her and her mind raced. "You were never one for violence, William. Time has changed you."

"I told you prison had done that. It changes one's priorities."

Eve eyed the pistol loose in his lap and scrambled for an idea, anything to get out of the carriage quickly before they had gone too far. Her eyes narrowed mockingly. "Oh," she drawled, "they couldn't have changed too much if you hadn't thought to just give back the vase. Truly, what sort of dolt trades his own life for a piece of pottery? Only the stupidest bastard..."

His hand snapped out again and even though Eve was expecting it, the pain still dulled her senses for a moment. But as she was flung against the side of the carriage once more, she recalled her wits enough to grab the handle of the carriage door and jerk it down. Her weight pushed against the portal as it flung it open and she rolled through the opening. Tensing against the anticipation of more pain, she wasn't disappointed as she landed on the cobbled road on her back, scraping her hands and arms in an attempt to protect herself against the oncoming traffic when a wagon passed near her head.

Fighting the pain, Eve forced herself to her feet, desperately trying to untangle her skirts even as she heard William call for the carriage to halt. Scrambling to gain her footing, she started forward and cried out against the shooting pain that raced through her hip. Forcing herself to run, she turned back up the street toward the police station they had passed a couple of streets back.

As she heard footsteps pounding behind her, adrenaline and panic fed her allowing her to forget the pain as she fled like a startled rabbit. Picking up her skirts, she ran full out as she had as a child in Newport, gaining speed as she went, but still she heard him behind her. Her long legs flashed out beneath her skirts, her pink silk stockings drawing whistles before onlookers realized what was going on. "Help!" she screamed breathlessly as she ran. "Somebody please help me!"

"Hey there, man!" she heard someone shout behind her. "Leave that lady alone!" A quick glance over her shoulder showed two men in suits trying to detain William on her behalf. Lawyers most likely, they would not be able to hold him for long. Turning her attention back to her flight, Eve focused on the road in front of her even as a shot sounded behind her. Fearing for the lives of her saviors, Eve glanced back again to find the two men now held motionless by the gun in William's left hand, but in his right was another, pointed directly at her.

"Stop, Evelyn!" he shouted but Eve turned her back and continued running. He had a pair of guns? she gasped in disbelief. Another shot rang out and the crowd in front of her cowered with cries of surprise and terror, as a bullet hit a lamp post to her right. Every instinct in her body urged Eve to drop down and cover her head like everyone else, but she denied herself as she saw her destination a few buildings ahead, even as the pounding feet behind her grew in volume. He would not shoot her, she tried to reassure herself. He just said that he needed her alive.

A few steps from the police station, she recognized the man exiting the doors as one of the agents who had come for Francis that morning. The one who had wanted to put Francis in shackles. "You... you... oh, blast it, the killer, the real killer is chasing me!" she flung her arm back, pointing the way. "Help me!" she pleaded.

The detective took in her dishabille and cast a skeptical glance, ready to dismiss her, before he recognized her. "Lady Shaftesbury?"

The man's gaze darted past her and his brows shot up in surprise, but rather than ensure her safety he only frowned and raised his hands in the air. Dismayed, Eve turned to find William not twenty feet away, pointing a pistol at the man.

"Stop right there, Evelyn," William gasped catching his breath as Eve inched toward the entrance of the building. "You have only delayed the inevitable, my dear. Now let's go."

Eve eyed the pistol directed at her, aware that the detective stood frozen in the face of the armed man before them. Did William not realize where he was or was he so completely crazed he didn't care? What kind of insanity was it for him to think this was a good idea? "Look around you, William. Do you not realize where we are?" she tried to reason with him.

Shaftesbury looked up at the building for the first time and a frown creased his brow. "It matters not. I am armed and they are not. Come, let's go now."

"Are you mad?" she gaped in amazement. "You cannot just kidnap me in front of a police station!"

"Lady Shaftesbury," Shaw whispered urgently, fearfully eyeing the man who held him at gunpoint, sensing the villain wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. "What is going on here? Who is he?"

"This madman is the murderer..."

Shaftesbury's hand whipped out again and the butt of the pistol caught her with a glancing blow. Raising a hand to the wound, Eve wavered where she stood.

"Now see here!" Shaw protested, lowering his hands instinctively in defense of an injured lady. "You can't treat a lady like –" A shot sounded and Shaw fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder in surprise.

Aghast, Eve turned to see William shrug carelessly. He had just shot a man without second thought. Clearly he was beyond prediction or expectation. She felt the fear snake back up her spine when he uttered absently, "How tiring. Come now, Evelyn." He waved the gun, indicating she should precede him. "Let's move on, shall we?"

"You won't shoot me, William. Remember? You need me," she told him with false bravado since it was clear she had no idea what William was capable of any longer.

"That is true, but it will not stop me from shooting the good people here if you resist." He indicated the people huddled against the building or standing across the street, staring at the scene with morbid fascination. "How about her?" he asked, motioning to a young woman crouched in the alley hugging a young girl to her. "Or him?" This one an adolescent boy protecting an older woman behind him.

He moved the gun back and forth and Eve's shoulders slumped in defeat, knowing he wouldn't hesitate to shoot another unarmed innocent who stood between him and his goals. "Stop it, William. I will come."

"Peaceably?"

"Yes, let us just go."

Eve marched back up the street as he followed rotating from side to side with a pistol in each hand to keep any would-be heroes at bay. There was no hope at all. Shaw was collapsed directly in front of the doors of the police station. His unconscious body now prevented the door from opening, though the rocking of his body indicated someone was trying to push him out of the way.

The carriage circled back around and now waited for them at the corner. In the driver's seat she recognized Wilkes, Shaftesbury's long-time valet, at the reins. She hadn't seen him since she had fired him a year before. He looked very pleased to see her back under William's thumb.

To her surprise, the carriage passed only a few more streets before stopping in front of a neat boardinghouse. Eve knew most of these were rented to single barristers and others who worked the courts. So he hadn't been at a hotel at all! Little wonder they had failed to locate him! Dragging her from the carriage, William urged her inside, making certain to maintain a discreet entrance in the quiet neighborhood. He said nothing as he escorted her up two sets of stairs and into his small apartments.

"Hardly up to your usual standards, William," she bit out nastily, still nursing the sting from the blows to her head and cheek. She weakly took a seat in the chair he indicated and leaned back wearily. Adrenaline depleted, Eve was left exhausted and pinched by her corset after her run. The fight drained from her.

"I have had to make do with Wilkes' pitiful savings," he replied peevishly, moving to a cupboard from which he pulled a small flask of Irish whiskey and, uncorking it, took a long pull.

"So what now, William?" she asked after five minutes of silence had passed, where Shaftesbury had checked his watch and the window repeatedly. She rose and paced the room as his growing agitation filtered into her. "They'll be coming for you. It won't take them long to find you now, you know. There will be a dozen witnesses to point the way."

"Wilkes is obtaining train tickets as we speak. We should be out of Edinburgh within the hour," he told her as he took another drink.

"Not quickly enough, I think." He growled at her but Eve ignored him as she cast about for escape. There was no chance she was going to board a train that would take her away from Laurie and Francis. She would fight him with everything she had at that point and damn the consequences. If he managed to get her back home, there would be nothing she could do to save herself from him.

Watching him tip the bottle up again, Eve thought of running for the door but quickly realized it would be useless. She was done in from her first run. Her legs felt weak and wobbly under her skirts already and not capable of another flight, especially not one down several flights of stairs. A lady in a corset was caged in so many ways.

She wandered the small room, aware that her husband kept a pistol casually pointed in her direction as he checked his watch impatiently and went to the window, cursing under his breath.

Trying to think of another way of escape, Eve came upon a crate containing two pieces of pottery packed in straw, so exquisite that they could only be the Ming vases William had stolen. She pulled one from the straw and held it up to the light. It was breathtaking, but hardly worth risking one's life for.

"Be careful with that!" her husband bellowed, spitting his liquor onto the floor.

"You would really kill people to keep this, William?"

"Let me think..." he drawled sarcastically as he snatched the vase back and packed it into the crate. "Yes! Of course."

And he already had. There was apparently nothing he would stop at to have his way with this insanity.

The room fell quiet while Eve contemplated her situation and Shaftesbury his liquor. When the normal sounds of the streets were overridden by the sound of footfalls on the floors below, Eve's attention turned to the activity. Voices shouted out below. Then footsteps clamored up the stairs to their floor.

"They're coming for you, William," she taunted softly. "Whatever will you do now?"

"Impossible! How could they have found us so quickly?" Shaftesbury threw open the windows and peered down, accessing the distance and, Eve assumed, the possibility of jumping. "Damn! Where is Wilkes?"

Doors in the adjacent apartments down the hall were pounded on as the activity grew closer. "Police! Open please!" A voice rang out hollowly through the walls. There was no further sound but Eve knew that William was anticipating the knock on his door next when he leveled one pistol at the door.

"William!" she protested. "You don't dare!"

"Shut your mouth, Evelyn!" he hissed. He cocked the revolver. The click of the lever rang ominously in the quiet of the room. "There is nothing left to do!"

A minute passed.

The pounding, when it came, gave Eve a start. "Open the door, Shaftesbury! We know you're in there!"

"Francis?" she gasped in surprise when the voice registered.

William's head whipped around when he heard her. "So your erstwhile lover has come to your rescue, hmm? This should be interesting." He turned his attention back to the door as the knob started to turn and the door swung in slowly.

"Francis, get back!" she yelled as William squeezed the trigger and Francis dodged around the door jam.

"Eden? What are you doing in there?" Francis shouted. "I've got to say I don't mind ducking when I'm being shot at but I think you owe me an explanation."

"I will be happy to give you one soon, but I think you owe me one as well," she called back as her husband glared at her.

"Back away, Glenrothes," William warned. "I will shoot her I promise you, I have nothing to lose now."

Francis leaned back against the wall and tried to gauge Shaftesbury's position within the room. When the underling detective Shaw had been shot in front of the police station, Francis had been taking tea with Gerald Thompson while his bobbies were making inquiries about town in search of Shaftesbury.

The senior detective had struck Glenrothes as a reasonable man, as he had told the others, and upon reaching the station, Francis had taken a risk on his intelligence and discretion by revealing the truth of the entire matter. From the truth of Shaftesbury's death and resurrection to his engagement to Eve, her history, to the relationship between Shaftesbury and Vanessa and all the events of the past week including the threats Eve had received from her former husband.

Thompson had considered the matter carefully before admitting he saw the logic in the earl's observations and sent a pair of bobbies to the hotel where the countess had died, to question the staff once again. Searching the area, they had found Vanessa's missing maid and matched her description of her mistress's mystery man to Shaftesbury. More officers were sent out in search of the suspect.

While awaiting further information, Glenrothes and Thompson had speculated on the murderer's motives, but came to the conclusion that revenge would certainly be among them. While they had taken their tea, they had heard the shots fired outside but it had taken several vital moments to clear the front door. Shaw had regained consciousness when they pulled him inside and had given them sufficient information with which Francis, accompanied by Thompson and two other detectives, had been able to question enough witnesses to trail Eve and Shaftesbury to this location. They had met with Richard, James, Jack and a half-dozen of their footmen along the way. They had trailed Eve's abduction from Moray Place.

A floor to floor search had brought him and Thompson here.

He could hardly comprehend that Eve had been so close to him, running away from this bastard, running to him for help and he had failed to protect her. It would not happen again. It would be Shaftesbury's life or his. That was all there was to it.

"Shaftesbury!" he yelled. A shot hit across the hall from Francis and sprayed plaster in every direction. Glenrothes waved Thompson back as he raced back from the rooms he was checking down the hall. The detective came stealthily forward until he was at MacKintosh's side.

"I take it you've found the fellow?" Thompson asked unnecessarily as James and Jack raced around the corner as well.

The earl nodded and whispered, "He has Ev... Lady Shaftesbury." Francis leaned against the wall, worry flooding him and couldn't resist calling, "Eden, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Francis," she answered but a sharp slap and a cry followed and Francis growled low in his throat, turning to race blindly into the room before James pulled him back. "Caution, Francis," he whispered. "He might have back up in there!"

His bodied quivered with the need to act. "I need to do something, anything! What do we do?"

"He has her hostage. We need to negotiate his demands," Thompson said sensibly.

Francis sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "You're right. That's the sensible thing to do, but bugger me, I'm not feeling too sensible right now." He shrugged quickly out of his jacket. "Are you with me on this?"

"With you?" Thompson repeated in confusion. "Oh, aye, of course."

And with a grating battle cry, Francis charged into the room.

# Chapter 47

Eve could easily see William was on the verge of another murder and Francis was his intended victim. His usually pale eyes were dark and wild as he visually searched the room for inspiration or escape, she did not know. Fear streaked through her for Francis. While she knew without doubt he was physically capable of defeating William in normal circumstances, she wasn't sure he could as easily conquer an opponent driven by desperation and lost to honorable combat.

Following her husband's example, Eve was looking around the room trying to identify anything that might allow her to help Francis, when a terrifying cry echoed through the room. Francis charged in low, rushing at William so quickly that he had little chance to react. Francis' momentum threw them both against the wall and it seemed to Eve that the entire building shuddered at the impact. Pulling back, Glenrothes lifted Shaftesbury by his lapels even as the smaller man jerked his arm up still holding the Colt revolver, but the shot went awry when Francis struck at his arm. Drawing back, the Scot struck again with a brutal blow to the other man's midsection followed by an upper cut to his chin. With an angry grunt, William hit Francis on the side of the head with the weapon he still held in his hand. On the recoil from the blow, he fumbled to pull back the trigger so he might fire again.

"Francis!" Eve cried out. "Watch out for the gun!"

Movement from the doorway caught her eye and she spotted Thompson inside the door aiming a small pistol toward the men grappling and turning, waiting for an opening to take a shot. James and Jack, however, merely stood by, waiting and watching the brawl.

"What are you doing?" Eve screamed at them. "Help him!"

"What for?" James asked shrugging casually.

"He's just a little fellow, Evie," Jack agreed. "Let Francis have his fun. I daresay he's been itching for this moment."

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Eve cried as the crunch of flesh and bone drew her attention back to the struggle. The pair were throwing punches that landed with a series of grotesque crunching noises, turning her stomach. Blood was flowing from Shaftesbury's nose and mouth while a lesser blood flow trickled from Francis' brow from Shaftesbury's single blow with the pistol.

Instead of looking concerned, Francis actually smiled as if he were enjoying himself. He drew back a fist and landed a series of solid blows against Shaftesbury's stomach. William doubled over with a grunt but came up with the gun once more, catching Francis under the chin. With an enraged roar, Francis grabbed his opponent by the shirtfront and hurled him against the wall. William slumped sideways, finally losing his grip on the pistol as it skittered across the floor. He was curled in pain and breathing heavily.

"Come on, you bastard," Glenrothes taunted. "Get up and fight!"

Shaftesbury groaned dramatically and straightened a bit revealing, his other revolver as he pulled it from his waistband and pointed it at Francis' chest. "Back away," William gasped, holding his cracked ribs tightly as he staggered to his feet. He kept Francis between him and Thompson, who was still aiming his own weapon from the door, denying the detective a clean shot.

Fear ripped through Eve as her husband held her lover at gunpoint, a cold sweat breaking out over her entire body. He would shoot Francis, she knew, without hesitation or remorse, as soon as he was sure he could get away. It wouldn't be a shot to injure but to kill and Shaftesbury was an excellent shot. They all stood motionless waiting. Eve felt her chest clench in dread and fear. Someone needed to do something!

But when James and Jack moved to step forward, William retrieved his other pistol from the floor and pointed it at the pair. "Back, I say."

"You have no options, Shaftesbury," Thompson called from the door. "Set the lady and Glenrothes free and it will go better for you."

"No!" The villain shook his head. "I need her with me, so just back off and we'll be gone."

"I'm not going to let you take her," Glenrothes told him, wiping blood from his chin.

"She's my wife, not yours," was the irrational reply.

Francis watched Eve from the corner of his eye as she picked up a vase from the table and rolled it between her hands consideringly. What was she up to? "She's going to marry me, you know," he said with a deliberately cocky drawl, keeping Ashley-Cooper's attention on him. "Then she'll be mine."

"No!" William shook his head. "That's impossible! She might have whored herself with you but she is my wife!"

"Then that makes you a cuckold!" Francis goaded, tormenting Shaftesbury to cock the gun, ready to charge once more.

"William," Eve's shaking voice rang through the room, bringing all eyes to her as she held the costly porcelain aloft by its brim. "Put down the guns or I swear I will drop it."

Sweat beaded her husband's brow as the pistol in his right hand swung toward her and back to Glenrothes. "Put it down, Evelyn!"

"Put the guns down first," she challenged, holding the pottery higher in her unsteady hand.

"No!" he spat out, leveling the gun at her again, and back to the earl indecisively once more as he took a step in her direction. "Put it down!"

Eve swung her arm back and launched the vase into the air as William fired both pistols with a wild cry. Francis lunged toward him once more, and more shots rang around the room when both Shaftesbury and now Thompson fired again.

Shaftesbury dropped the weapons and flung himself to his knees under the vase, wrapping his arms around it even as it shattered in his arms. His arms closed over the pieces as they fell and around his stomach, covering the pool of red spreading across his midriff. He gaped down at the wound as he reached for the pieces. "No!" he moaned.

Eve dazedly jerked her head around to find detective Thompson holstering his smoking pistol and moving forward as Francis limped and faltered, falling to his knee. "Francis!" she cried, racing to his side. "Francis! Are you all right? Were you shot? Are you bleeding?"

"The Earl of Glenrothes does not get shot."

"Apparently you don't duck either."

"Bastard," he gasped, "he shot me in the calf! Thank God you threw that when you did or it might have been worse! He was to the point of firing."

"Of course he was, with you taunting him!" she scolded as she pulled up his trouser leg to examine the wound. "Here. Let me see it." She raised his pant leg and examined the wound. "Through and through, I think, but we will need to get it cleaned out as soon as possible." Eve flipped up her skirt and tore a ruffle from her petticoat to bind the wound.

"Have a lot of experience with gunshots, do you?" he teased through gritted teeth and hissed as she tied the makeshift bandage around his leg with a tug.

"Oh, don't be an infant," she returned, as she patted the knot and met his eyes.

He was surprised to find them glassy with unshed tears, when she had seemed so collected and calm. He reached out and caressed her bruised cheek with his thumb. "Are you all right? What did he do to you?"

"Oh, he just slapped me a couple times," she shrugged, dabbing at her eyes. "Most of this happened when I jumped out of the carriage."

"You jumped out of a carriage?" His brow shot up in surprise when she nodded. "Was it moving?"

"Oh!" she punched him lightly in the arm.

Francis caught her hand and raised it to his lips, feeling it tremble as he did so. What a brave lass he had! "I am so proud of you, my love. And that is only for what I know so far. I want to hear every detail when we get home."

"And I want to hear how you came to be here with Detective Thompson," she scolded. "I thought you were under arrest."

"Well, you see..."

"Lord Glenrothes?" Thompson interrupted as Jack and James crowded around Shaftesbury's still form. "I'll need you to come back to the station..."

Eve bristled at the thought of Francis returning to jail. After all that had just happened! Surely the detective could see that Glenrothes was not the villain here! "Mr. Thompson, I feel you should know that Lord Glenrothes has been too much of a gentleman to provide an alibi for his ex-wife's murder."

"Eden, you don't need to do this," Francis began, but she waved him off briskly.

"Hush, yes I do." She turned to the detective, laying a pleading hand on his arm even as he shook his head in denial. "The night that Vanessa MacKintosh was murdered, Lord Glenrothes was with me... in my rooms all night, so you see he could not have done this horrible thing."

Francis groaned as Mr. Thompson flushed a rosy red. "Lady Shaftesbury," he stammered. "I was only going to request that Glenrothes and indeed yourself come to the station to make your statements on this matter. I, uh," he tugged at his collar. "I had already determined Glenrothes was not at fault without your, uh, assurance otherwise."

Now it was Eve's turn to blush and turn away. "You had? Then I needn't have...? Oh!" she moaned in embarrassment.

"Please, my lady, be assured that you have my utmost discretion regarding your admission," he rushed to guarantee her.

"You know it wasn't Lord Glenrothes then?" Eve couldn't resist clarifying.

"Aye, m'lady," he pledged to her. "Thanks to Glenrothes and what I have witnessed here, I believe we now have enough evidence to prove that he was not the murderer, though your husband did an excellent job of framing him."

"Indeed he did."

"Perhaps I will call on you tomorrow instead to get your complete statement, if that is acceptable?"

"Of course." She nodded, regaining her calm, social mask and offering her hand. "Thank you so much for your assistance, Mr. Thompson."

"Not at all, my lady." He shook her hand and regarded Glenrothes. "Do you, uh, need medical assistance, my lord?"

"I have been well nursed enough to see my way home and my own surgeon, Thompson, but my thanks." He offered the official his hand and shook it heartily before requesting assistance in gaining his footing. Eve wrapped an arm around his waist to help him as he limped to face Shaftesbury who was being tended to by the other two detectives.

"Is he dead?" Francis asked the question Eve had been afraid to voice.

"No," Thompson shook his head. "It is a stomach wound though. If he does recover, it will be a painful trial. And even if he gets through it, he will face the hangman's noose quickly enough for the murder of Lady Glenrothes."

Francis stared down into Eve's bright green eyes and touched his forehead to hers. "Shall we go, my love?"

"Yes," she nodded emphatically. "I want to see Laurie and make sure he's all right."

Jack and James left Shaftesbury as other officers came in to assist Thompson. Offering their assistance to the limping earl, James asked his brother, "You all right there, old man?"

"No thanks to you two!" Eve snorted pointing a finger at both of them. "How could you just stand there and do nothing?"

"Wasn't much to do but watch the fight. Francis had that under control. Enjoyed it no doubt. Can't understand how the chap held on to that gun though," Jack said defensively, raising his hands to ward her off. "By the time he needed aid, we were dodging bullets of our own!"

Eve merely humphed and they turned to go, Francis' steps awkward even with the men's assistance. He limped forward and frowned when a piece of pottery cracked under his boot. With a frown, he bent and picked up the shard and held it up to the light. "My God! I can't believe you threw this. Do you have any idea what this is?"

"Yes, I have a very good idea what it is," Eve raised an amused brow.

"Good God, Eden, what were you thinking? This was worth a fortune!"

"So are you," she pecked his cheek playfully. "And I'll buy you another if you like."

# Chapter 48

Love is born with the pleasure of looking at another,

it is fed with the necessity of seeing each other,

it is concluded with the impossibility of separation.

Jose Marti y Perez

"You hit him over the head with a Ming vase?" Jack repeated, astounded. "A 14th century Ming vase? Bloody hell, that one little piece of pottery might have saved my entire estate."

"Leave it to Jack to think of himself," Abby teased, hugging her brother's arm. "Oh, Eve, I'm so glad everything turned out all right!"

Eve sat curled against Francis in the corner of the settee later that evening after changing her torn clothing and having her scrapes and bruises tended to. Laurie was tucked against her other side in her snug embrace. His joy when she had returned made her heart sing and she was glad to keep him by her side, though he should have been sent back to the nursery an hour ago. Eve could not bear to give him up either. She stroked the blond curls on his head absently while everyone talked over the events of the day.

After the two boys had found Richard and Jack, they had attempted to track the carriage but had split up when they reached the government district and had come upon Francis and the detective. Richard had gone on with the footmen and another detective, canvassing the stagecoach and railroad depots, hoping to find them there should they have already vacated the boardinghouse. Indeed they had been crucial in capturing the valet, Wilkes, when he had purchased tickets in Shaftesbury's name.

As Hobbes brought n champagne for them all to celebrate, Glenrothes told his audience of his conviction that the truth would hold sway with the honorable detective Thompson. Something he had been sure of when he had gone with him that morning. He had given Thompson what they knew of Shaftesbury and Vanessa, knowing the man would see the logic in his argument. His arrest had never occurred, in fact he had spent most of the early afternoon taking a casual luncheon with the man and discussing the case while Thompson's detectives had searched for Shaftesbury.

"You knew that he would listen to such an outlandish tale and believe you, rather than simply toss you in the clink?" Moira asked in amazement.

"You took a great chance," Abby agreed with her friend.

"A calculated risk," Francis shrugged in the face of their amazement.

"I wish you might have seen fit to share that with us. You might have spared us some sorrow," Jack grouched irritably, and the others nodded in agreement.

Eve, in turn, related her tale of trying to get out of the carriage, of how she provoked Shaftesbury so that she might fall against the door and roll into the street, laughing now at how she pushed herself to run after hurting her hip in the fall. When she told them of the chase down the street, Jack jested that he might have liked to see her running with her skirts held above her knees, only to earn a glare from Francis. But all were aghast as she told them of being captured at gunpoint and the fight that had ensued in the boardinghouse, ending with the vase and Thompson's well-placed shot.

A doctor had been brought in to clean and stitch Francis wound. While infection was always a risk, he was expected to make a complete recovery, though walking would be painful for some time. Shaw as well was expected to survive his gunshot. But Shaftesbury had died during the surgery performed on him to remove the bullet lodged in his lower torso. The doctor said that even if he had made it through the surgery, the bullet going through the vase as it did had propelled hundreds of shards of the pottery into the wound with it, damaging internal organs almost as much as the bullet itself. Had he made it through the surgery, he would have eventually faced a slow, painful demise.

Eve supposed she should feel some sense of loss, but she had already done her period of mourning and had no intention of doing it again. Instead all she felt was relief that it was all done and over with. Life was now hers to begin again on her own terms.

And that life surrounded her in this moment. Her son and the man she would marry. Her future was looking brighter than she could ever remember. She was ready to move on. "I'm just glad it is all over and we can move forward."

"My lady?" Hobbes intoned from the hallway. "There is a gentleman of a religious persuasion at the door. He says he has an appointment with Lord Glenrothes."

"A gentleman of a religious persuasion?" she echoed. "What is that all about?"

"If it would please you," Francis murmured in her ear, pulling a piece of paper from his breast pocket while the others looked on with mischievous smiles. "In the spirit of moving on, I obtained a special license last week before all this came to light. I thought perhaps you might do me the honor of becoming my wife this evening?"

Eve gaped at him for a moment in surprise. "Just in the spirit of moving on?"

He brushed his lips against her temple. "Perhaps in the spirit of moving on with our lives together? I cannot wait to make you my wife, to have the right to take you in my arms at any time. To show you my love openly, every day, for the rest of our lives. I don't want to be forced to deny my feelings ever again. I love you, paradise."

"I love you as well."

"Then will you marry me? Right now?" he asked once more. "If you prefer to wait for a large wedding, I will understand."

"No."

"No, you won't marry me now or no, you don't want a big ceremony?"

"No, Francis, I don't want to wait and yes, I will marry you now." Luckily enough after bathing, Eve had decided it was time to officially put off her mourning wear and had instead donned a new dinner gown she had recently ordered. It was light peach silk overlaid with chiffon, covered along the edges with a wide border of flora and fauna cut-outs in a variety of blues, greens, lavender and a darker peach color that covered the short train and framed the center panel of Point d'Angleterre lace. The bodice had a profusion of ruched silk and flowers that cut a dramatic V from the edges of her shoulders to the waist, where it nipped in tightly. More lace and chiffon filled that V, although the neckline was cut very low. She was glad she had worn it this night, for the fresh spring colors were a perfect match to the occasion. This would be her wedding gown!

She laughed inwardly, thinking how pleased her mother would be that she'd managed to land another earl, the very earl who might have been hers years before if Fate had only dealt them a better hand! She would have to write her parents and Kitty in the morning and let them know the good news. That she was a bride once again and madly in love!

Eve grinned brightly and Francis returned it with the same charming smile pulling up the corner of his lips that had captured her heart so many years ago. She turned to face the room of friends old and new, each wearing a smile on their face. Well, all except one, who was looking a bit green in the gills. "You all knew about this?"

"It was all MacKintosh's idea. Been working on it all afternoon while you were being pampered," Jack Merrill rolled his eyes. "He's so disgustingly happy about it that it is making me fairly nauseous."

"Well, don't feel that you have to stay if you can't stomach the sight of two people in love getting married," the groom jested as he rose to his feet with the assistance of a cane and Eve's arm.

"I suppose I might stay on," Jack gave in. "I shall endeavor to turn away if the carnage upsets my delicate sensibilities."

"Oh, please," Eve mocked. "Jack Merrill, your day will come and I shall taunt you relentlessly when it does."

Haddington merely shook his head and shuddered at the thought.

Francis took Laurie up in his arm and looked down into his little face. "My lord Shaftesbury, will it be acceptable for me to marry your mother?"

"If you marry my mother, you will become my father," Laurie reasoned solemnly.

"Aye," Francis nodded seriously, "that I will, if you might be able to accept such a thing."

"I would like that very much, but," he faltered a bit, but Francis gave him an encouraging nod, "but I will still be Shaftesbury, will I not, my lord?"

"You are Shaftesbury and always will be."

The little boy's shoulders sagged in relief. "That's good. I have a responsibility to my people, you know?"

Francis grinned down at him. "As do I. Perhaps if your mother and I have another son who will someday become Glenrothes, I might count on you to help him understand his responsibilities as well as you do."

Laurie smiled brightly in turn. "I should like that, my lord. I should like having a brother as well!"

"Very good," Francis answered as he set the boy on the ground. "And perhaps you might choose to call me father before long?"

"Might I call you Papa?"

"I should like that very much," was the serious reply. Francis was so pleased by the lad's request that he asked in return, "And perhaps I might call you son? If you like?"

"Very much, my lord," the boy returned, with a broad grin now.

Turning, he offered a folded piece of paper to Abby, "For you, minx."

Abby smiled broadly as he slipped the fifty-pound note into her hand. "Well played, Francis."

Francis offered his hand to Eve. "Shall we, my lovely bride?"

Flushed with happiness, Eve took Francis' arm as he led her across the hall toward the larger drawing room at the front of the house, while the others fell in behind them. Her thoughts were a jumble of love for Francis, gratitude for his love of her son and eagerness for the moments to come. She was about to become his wife! A mere month ago, the very thought had paralyzed her with the same symptoms Jack expressed at the thought, but now! All she felt was excitement and anticipation. As much as she was about to become his, he was just as assuredly about to become hers.

She smiled beatifically up at him with her green eyes shining as they met the darker green of his.

"You look very beautiful this evening," he whispered softly into her ear, seeing none of the slight bruising that marred her cheek and temple.

"So do you," she returned, thinking he had never looked more handsome or happy as he did this night.

"No doubts?" he asked.

"Not one."

With flourish, Hobbes swung open the double doors of the drawing room and bowed low. When he rose, she might have almost thought that there was a smile on his face and she smiled at him in return.

But when she walked into the room, her jaw sagged as she took in the bounty of flowers and candles that transformed the room as if her gown had come to life. A makeshift altar had been set up at the far end of the room, where a Catholic priest waited for them. The soft strains of music reached her and she located the violinist near the windows. A trail of rose petals marked the path to the altar.

Her sighs of appreciation blended with those of her two friends as she took in the scene. She could not imagine how all of this had gotten done so quickly and without her knowledge! It was lovely, just magical! Eve could not imagine a more perfect setting to mark her marriage to Francis.

"Do you like it?" he whispered softly in her ear.

Her eyes met his, bright with tears as joy pierced her heart. "You did all this?"

He nodded his eyes gleaming with pleasure and love.

"Why, Francis," she smiled up at him and caressed his cheek lovingly. "This is almost – dare I say it? – Romantic!"

"Only almost?" he teased and met her lips in a tender kiss.

# Epilogue

The Glenrothes Townhouse

Carlton Terrace

Edinburgh, Scotland

Six Weeks Later

Perhaps it was the intensity of the silence in the cozy sitting room where Evelyn MacKintosh was reading Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil that made the slamming of the door and battery of voices below seem so loud. She was setting her book and tea on the side table and moving her sleeping son to the seat as a flurry of steps raced up the stairs. Rising, she opened the door just in time to meet her butler with his hand raised to knock. "What is it, Hobbes?"

"There seems to be a slight problem, my lady." The old servant paused as if he did not know where to begin. If Eve hadn't known better, she might have even said he was flustered, but dismissed the thought as unconceivable. "It appears that we have unexpected company."

"Who is it?"

"A young female person of uneven temperament with a small girl-child and, if I am not mistaken, an aged Chinaman."

"Aged Chinaman?" she echoed.

"Indeed, my lady, most particular."

"I'll see to it..." Eve rushed down the hall, wishing her husband were there as well. Her husband! She couldn't stop the smile that flashed at the thought. The past six weeks had been more magical and fulfilling than she had ever imagined the days and nights of marriage might ever be. She'd never known such bliss and had been missing Francis mightily since he had gone to Glen Cairn for a meeting with his steward and would not return for a couple of days.

"I can't believe this country!" were the words Eve heard as she reached the top of the stairs. She stood for a moment in the shadows and watched the late night visitor pace the foyer at a ripping speed. Her hair was disheveled and hanging from its coiffure at a precarious angle. The color was impossible to discern, given the rain and mud caking it. Her face was darkened with dirt and... soot? Her dress, once a probably very lovely yellow brocade, was torn and dirty and hanging limply to the ground. She was indeed in a temper, pacing as she was, and throwing her hands in the air. Fortunately, the countess could make out little of the stream of curses that were currently flowing from her lips.

"Damn Scottish idiots!" she heard briefly. "Can't speak one decent word of English at all! I end up on the side of the road, in the rain with no way to get anywhere! Idiots! Every single one of them!"

"Is that so?" Eve questioned mildly as she descended the stairs. The words were soft but carried into the foyer as all eyes turned up to greet her. Two harassed looking footmen, one tiny old Chinaman holding a miraculously sleeping toddler and one angry, bedraggled woman.

"You there! Close that door," Eve spoke with authority to the open-mouthed footman who stumbled over himself to do her bidding. "Now, may I ask what is going on here?" Her expression was serene until her eyes widened as they met the woman's. "Kitty? Kitty, what is going on here?"

The four people before her, and the unusually nervous Hobbes to her rear, all began their versions of the tale at once in such loud voices Eve could barely hear herself think. "Enough!" Eve's voice rang out and the hall fell completely silent. She wrapped an arm about Kitty's shoulders. "You two may go," she indicated to the footmen. "Is this your... servant? Yes, alright, Hobbes, please see to our guests and prepare a room for them and my sister."

"Your sister, my lady?" Hobbes eyed Kitty skeptically.

"Yes, this is Mrs. Hayes, my sister from America."

"A pleasure to be of service, madam." He sketched a small bow to her. "May I bring you some refreshment, my lady?"

"Thank you. Tea in my sitting room, please."

"Coffee?" came a small voice.

"Oh, dear," Eve whispered, "I'm sorry, no. Chocolate?"

"That will be fine," the disheveled woman answered as she took the sleeping child from the ancient Chinaman.

"As you wish, madam." Hobbes started to lead the old man from the hall as Eve steered Kitty into the drawing room, when Kitty suddenly remembered, "Eve! My driver! He needs to be paid."

"I shall see to it, madam," Hobbes assured and snapped his fingers to nearby servants.

Once up the stairs and inside the sitting room, Eve flung her arms around her sister, disregarding the grime covering her. "Kitty! Oh, my goodness. Kitty, dear! How I've missed you! Oh, what are you doing here? Did Mama come with you? Da?"

It took Eve a moment to realize that her sister's shoulders were shaking. A moment longer to realize she was crying. "Kitty! What is wrong?"

"Evie!" Kitty cried, as she clung to her sister. "I thought I'd never make it here! I left him! I left him!"

# Acknowledgements

I'd like to dedicate this book to my amazing friends and family who have encouraged me, urged me and even pushed me through the years to get this thing done. My lifelong friends, Lori, who sat by my side back in high school while I finally typed my first stories on an old Apple 2GS computer, and Thelma, that wonderful Nordic B*!%@ who inspires me to not even think about writing weak women. For my children, who never seem to feel ignored when I lose myself in 'my bubble', and my husband and best friend, Kirk, who gives me an amazing amount of encouragement – even though I won't let him read anything.

# Author's Notes

I've long been fascinated by the Victorian Era, when life moved pretty fast and changed constantly, with new inventions and innovations being offered every day. We can look back from where we are and see the things we have now in their infant state, from magazines to books to the theater and more practically, the light bulb and recognizable plumbing.

But at that point life hadn't changed much for women. They were still subject to men when it came to their rights and money, and divorce was a difficult undertaking that could ruin a woman in the public eye. That is where I began, though it took me many other places.

Eve and her sister Kitty are both women who suffered under marriage with little recourse but who finally fight to stand for themselves. As a fan of Edith Wharton, I place them first in New York, in that Knickerbocker Society that included the Vanderbilts, Oelrichs, Goelets and Rockefellers and, with Kitty's story, also in beautiful Newport, Rhode Island, home of some of the most amazing homes in America.

I'd like to also point out, given some questions I received, that earls were always referred to the Earl of Glenrothes in full title, rather than the shorten Earl Glenrothes that I use from time to time in conversation. Documents in the 19th century history shows earls using the shortened title and is used regularly, from former Prime Minister (and namesake of tea) Earl Grey, to the 5th Earl Russell and right up to Princess Diana's father and now brother, Earl Spencer.

The sinking of the SS Utopia did take place as described, sinking off the coast of Gibraltar in March of 1891. The survivors bound for New York were carried on the SS Anglia and relatives of passengers in some cases did wait until the ship had docked to find out the fate of their loved ones.

Ravenscraig Castle (though I refer to it in my story as Raven's Craig) still stands today on the northern coast of the Firth of Forth though it is largely in ruin, having been passed through many hands. Since 1971, it has been open to the public by its owner, Historic Scotland. It's such a spectacular piece of medieval architecture that I wanted to bring it to life for Francis and Eve, imagining what it might have been. As Francis predicted, the nearby towns of Dysart and Kirkaldy have crept right up the drawbridge of the castle.

I have used many actual sights and locations in Scotland and Edinburgh as settings in my books, tweaking them to fit my story lines including St. Andrews. The Old Course at St. Andrews has been played since about 1400. The New Course was opened in 1895. Today St. Andrew's consists of 7 courses while The Royal and Ancient Golf Club governs the rules of golf everywhere but in the US.

I hope you enjoy.

# Collect the entire Question series by Angeline Fortin

A Question of Love – Eve's Story

A Question of Trust – Kitty's Story

A Question of Lust – Moira's Story

And a prequel to the series

Abby's Story

And still more to come from the MacKintosh clan in the future

Also Available

A Laird for All Time

### About the Author

Angeline Fortin picked up her first romance novel in college and has never been able to put them down since. A life-long lover of history, she holds a BA degree in History from the University of Nevada-Las Vegas and has worked at Colonial Williamsburg as a historical interpreter. Blending her two favorite things, she began writing her own historical romances for the enjoyment of herself and her friends ten years ago.

Angeline is a native Minnesotan, a fan of the Vikings and the Twins. As a former military wife, she has lived in many places but currently resides in the southeast with her husband and two children and misses the cold weather.

Your comments are always welcome! Please send Angeline an email to fortin.angeline@gmail.com or LIKE her or the Questions for a Highlander series on Facebook for information and updates.

