Letters to A Lady
by
Gail Whitiker


MILLS BOON

To my good friend, Pamela Matheson, who always found time to listen,
and still does.  And to Brenda Chin, my special thanks.

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All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents
are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in
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First published in Great Britain 1997

Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR

ISBN 0 263 80475 5

Set in Times Roman 11 on 13 pt.  04-9704.59664

Printed and bound in Great Britain by BPC Paperbacks Limited,
Ariesbury

PROLOGUE

THE GYPSY'S CARAVAN had not been easy to find.

It was tucked away amidst a dense grove of trees and set well back from
the main area of the fair, and the two girls had stumbled upon it more
by good luck than good management.  They approached it now,
apprehension and excitement on their faces.

"There, I told you we would find it," Laura whispered, her eyes fixed
triumphantly on the canvas-covered wagon.  "And you.  said it was all
just a waste of time."

Charlotte studied the dilapidated caravan with an expression of thinly
veiled scepticism.  "I must have been mad to allow you to talk me into
this.  I cannot think why I did, other than to put an end to this
nonsense about fortune-tellers once and for all."

"And I cannot understand why you are so sceptical, Charlotte," Laura
complained.  "You said yourself you would give anything to know when
Edward was coming home?"

"I would," Charlotte grudgingly agreed.  "But I hardly think a Gypsy
is going to tell me more about my brother's whereabouts than anyone
else has been able to."

Charlotte stared at the caravan with ever-increasing doubt, no more
believing that Gypsies could divine the future than that evil spells
and love charms could be cast by the light of the moon.  As far as she
was concerned, it was nothing more than hocus-pocus, a series of clever
tricks to fool wide-eyed children.  Certainly not worthy of
consideration by a well-educated, sensible woman like herself.

Then why had she allowed herself to be dragged out into the middle of
the forest for no apparent reason?

"Come to have your fortune told, have yer, dearie?"

The voice was unexpected, disembodied, and in spite of herself,
Charlotte jumped.  "Perhaps."  She narrowed her gaze in the direction
of the caravan.  "I have been told that you have the gift."

There was silence for a moment, before a raspy voice replied, "I may,
though it'll cost yer to find out."."

Charlotte swallowed and glanced at Laura.  "We've come prepared to
pay." A sudden movement at the side of the caravan startled Charlotte
and she turned.  There, leaning heavily on an ebony cane stood an old
woman, her scrawny frame hidden under a shapeless black dress, with a
shawl of bright red wool wrapped around her bony shoulders.  She eyed
Charlotte and Laura with a piercing black gaze, and then slowly
nodded.

"Very well, come inside.  But only you."  She pointed one long, bony
finger at Charlotte.  "Since it is you who have come seeking me this
day."

Charlotte glanced briefly at a wide-eyed Laura, whose speaking glance
clearly said I told you so, and then walked across the glade,
pretending an assurance she was far from feeling.  She followed the
Gypsy up the uneven stairs and through the narrow door.

Inside the caravan, there was little in the way of furnishings.
Charlotte noted two rickety chairs, a small wooden table upon which
stood a single white candle, bundles of old clothes and boxes of
battered, smoke-blackened pots.

She lowered herself into the indicated chair, while the Gypsy lit the
candle.

Gathering up her courage, she began, "I have come to ask about my--"

"I know why you have come."  The reply was so quiet, yet so certain,
that Charlotte's words faded into silence.  She held her breath as the
old woman sat down and fixed her gaze intently upon the candle, staring
into the flame.  At length the Gypsy spoke, her voice low and hypnotic
in the silence of the tent.

"I see a man," she murmured.  "A tall man, with hair as dark as the
raven's wing.  He will make you happy, this man, and he will make you
sad.  He will bring you the greatest joy you have ever known, and the
greatest pain you have ever suffered.  And he will do so in the name of
love."

Puzzled, Charlotte asked, "Is this Edward of whom you speak?"

The Gypsy's eyes did not move.  "His name is of no concern."  She
hesitated then, squinting beyond Charlotte into the darkness.  "I see
another man.  Also tall, also dark.  He loves you very much, but there
is ... a distance between you."

Charlotte bit her lip in consternation.  Could this be Edward?

"The ... first man," she asked warily.  "Why does he ... bring me
pain?"

"Beware the written word," the Gypsy in-toned softly.  "Anger and
mistrust will follow in its wake.  By love's hand shall you be
condemned, and by the hand of another shall you yourself condemn."

Charlotte stared at the Gypsy in horrified fascination.  Condemned by
love's hand?  What nonsense.  Obviously, the old woman was making it
all up, trying to frighten her with a series of preposterous
mutterings. There could be no truth to what she was saying.

And yet, something in those strange, glowing eyes... Abruptly,
Charlotte rose.  Dropping her coins on the table as though they were
red-hot coals, she slipped out through the caravan door and walked away
as though the devil himself were at her heels.

She left the fair that day, always to remember what the Gypsy had said.
Always to remember that she had foretold the coming of two men, and the
pain and joy that one of them would bring--never imagining for a moment
that it might actually come to pass!

CHAPTER ONE

DEVON ROYCE, Earl of Marwood, glanced down at the exquisite
emerald-and-diamond ring in his hand and allowed himself a brief moment
of exultation.  The ring, which had been worn by his mother, and by her
mother's mother before that, had been in his family for generations.
Until yesterday, it had remained safely locked away with the rest of
the Marwood heirlooms, but now, it waited to assume its rightful place
on the hand of the newest Countess of Marwood.  For tomorrow, Devon
intended to ask Miss Charlotte Kingsley to marry him, and he had no
reason to suspect that the lady would not honour him with a favourable
reply.

He glanced up as the library door opened.  "Yes, Robertson?"

"Excuse me, my lord," the butler said.  "Viscount Longworth is below
and asks if he might have a moment of your time."

"Nicholas?"  Marwood's smile broadened.  "Yes, of course, show him up!"
Marwood shut the lid of the ring box and slipped it back into his desk.
He was not even aware that Nicholas had returned to England.  As an
intelligence agent for the Crown, Long-worth's comings and goings were
effected without notice of any kind.  Marwood's discovery now that his
old friend was safely returned to England once more was a source of
considerable pleasure--and relief.

Moments later, the door opened again to admit a tall, dark-haired
gentleman dressed in the height of fashion.  "Though he was a few years
younger than Marwood, Longworth's handsome features bore the same stamp
of good breeding and refined intellect as his host's.  He advanced into
the room, his hand outstretched in greeting, "Devon, I was hoping I'd
find you in.  How are you, old boy?"

"As fine as any man has a right to be."  Mar-wood grasped the proffered
hand and shook it warmly.  "Dash, it's good to see you!  When did you
get back?"

"Early this morning," Longworth replied.  "Very early, in fact.  Came
across by special arrangement."

"His Majesty's own?"

"None other."

The earl's well-shaped lips curled in a knowing smile.  "Frenchies
still on your trail?"

"Like hounds after a fox."  Longworth laughed, his eyes crinkling with
boyish charm.  "Lost me rounding the last bend, though."

The two men smiled at each other in silent understanding.  Having
briefly been involved with the intelligence arm of the Crown himself,
Marwood knew the risks inherent in fighting for his country at that
level, battling an enemy far more dangerous than one armed merely with
bayonet and sword.  It was a war he might still have been fighting, had
it not been for his father's unexpected death and the succession which
had brought him home.  As the 5th Earl of Marwood, Devon knew his
responsibilities lay on English soil.  But that had not prevented him
from maintaining an active interest in what was going on.

"So," Marwood said, lifting the stopper from the decanter and pouring
out two generous glasses of brandy.  "I take it all went well?"

"Well enough, though I expect I shall have to go back once things cool
down a bit."  Long-worth's reply was guarded.  "There are few loose
ends which need tying up."

"Loose ends?"

Seeing Longworth nod, Marwood grunted and silently recapped the
decanter.  He knew better than to ask.  More to the point, he did not
need to.  "What about Lavinia?"

Longworth frowned.  "As far as I know, she's still in Paris.  We
haven't been able to reach her since her husband was killed.  Osborne
thinks she has gone into hiding."

Marwood tapped his glass thoughtfully.  "Has Osborne been able to find
out what happened?"

"Not yet, though he has his suspicions.  It's pretty hard to ignore the
evidence."

Marwood drew a deep breath.  "A leak."

It was not a question, and Longworth nodded.  "I don't see how it could
have, been anything else.  Obviously, someone discovered what Francis
Duplesse was working on and decided to' silence him.  Fortunately,
Lavinia was in the country at the time and Osborne was able to get a
message to her urging her to leave.  She got out just before the French
arrived."

"And no one has heard from her since?"  "Just the one report, saying
that she was safe, but.  not telling anyone where she was."  The
frustration in the younger man's voice was evident.  "I wish to God she
had left Paris while she still had the chance."

"She wouldn't, Nicholas.  I tried to convince her to come back with me
when I left, but she refused to leave Fran9is."

"I don't know why," Longworth muttered darkly.  "It's not as if she'd
been in love with her husband."

"No, but she was loyal to him, and even you cannot fault the lady for
that."

"No, of course not," Longworth grudgingly admitted.  "I just pray that
she is all right.  I suppose the fact that we haven't heard anything to
the contrary has to be good news."

"I have always taken it for such," Marwood replied.  "But you will let
me know as soon as you hear anything."

Longworth chuckled.  "Don't I always?.  You are probably the best
informed ex-spy in the service.  But enough of that.  What's this I
hear about you losing your heart at last.  Is it true?"

Marwood's expression changed instantly.  "Happily, it is.  I have met
the most wonderful girl.  Beautiful, charming, graced with intelligence
and wit everything a man, could desire.  In fact," he continued, his
smile broadening, "tomorrow afternoon, I intend to ask the young lady
to marry me."

"By Jove!."  Longworth exclaimed.  "Never tell me that Devon Royce is
actually to become riveted."

"The truth, from my own lips," Marwood replied with a smile.

"Dear me, I don't know if the ladies of London will ever recover,"
Longworth observed, shaking his head.  "And what is the name of this
most unfortunate young lady, if I may be so bold as to enquire?"

"Impertinent fellow!  I would take you to task over that any other
time, but as I find my stronger emotions somewhat tempered by the
powers of love, I shall let it pass.  The young lady is Miss Charlotte
Kingsley."  Marwood glanced at his friend and smiled.  "Why the look of
consternation, Nicholas?  Are you perhaps acquainted with some deep,
dark secret in my lady's past?"

Longworth raised an eyebrow in surprise.  "As if any woman worthy of
your consideration would be guilty of harbouring such a thing.  Can't
even say that I know the young lady personally, but dashed if the name
isn't familiar.  Has She a large family?"

"None to speak of.  Charlotte's parents both died when she was young.
She lives with an unmarried aunt."

"Kingsley, Kingsley."  Longworth's brow furrowed.  "I'm sure I know
that name, though I cannot think from where."  He shrugged as it
continued to elude him.  "Never mind, no doubt it will come to me
directly.  In the meantime, I am delighted to hear of your forthcoming
betrothal.  It is well past time you gave some thought to settling down
and raising a family.  Beget the requisite heir and all that.  As a
result, I have come to invite you to dinner in order that we may
celebrate this most notable of occasions in the style to which it
deserves."

Marwood grinned and tossed back the rest of his brandy.  "No doubt it
shall also serve to keep your mind off the fact that you are
temporarily without a cook."

"My dear Mar wOod how could you even think such a thing.  I came here
for no other reason than to enjoy the pleasure of your company after my
perilous mission in France," Long-worth sallied, adding, "however, now
that you mention it, it did slip my mind that I had given Mrs. Clarkson
extra time off to see her sister in Kent."  '

"Yes, I thought as much," Marwood retorted, "Come, you shall pay dearly
for your poor attempts at flattery, my friend.  I shall order the very
finest bottle of champagne with my dinner and enjoy i; at your
expense!"

"Dear me, I think perhaps I should have stayed in France," Longworth
muttered, resolutely downing the contents of his own glass.  "At least
there, if I was fortunate enough to get out of a tap-room alive, it was
with money in my pockets!"

"CH^RLOTr, would you be a dear and fetch some lavender from the garden?
I completely forgot about the balm I promised to mix up for Lady
Broughton."  Catherine Harper flipped through the pages of her beloved,
though somewhat battered, copy of Arts Master-Piece, or, The
Beautifying Part of Physick by Dr.  Nicholas Culpeper, and glanced
across the room to where her niece was arranging a bowl of roses for
the dining-room table.  "Apparently, the rain has been playing havoc
with her joints again, and she says that my balm is the only thing
which affords her any relief."  Miss Harper chewed gently on her lip.
"She did complain about the fragrance being a little different the last
time, though, and for the life of me, I cannot think why."

Charlotte.endeavoured to keep a straight face as she carefully trimmed
the thorns from a dewy, 1ongzstemmed rose.  It would not do to laugh.
Aunt Kittie took her remedies very seriously.  "No doubt it had
something to do with the extra rosemary and the few drops of rose
essence you put in, Aunt Kittie."

"Eh?"

"Do you not remember?  You told me that you had cut back on the amount
of lavender oil and increased the quantity of rosemary in order to make
the balm more effective."

"Cut back on the ... and increased the.  did I, indeed?"  Aunt Kittie
glanced at her hastily scribbled notes thoughtfully.  "Do you know,
Charlotte, now that you mention it, I just might..."

There was a res tie of paper as she flipped back to the appropriate
page and ran her finger down the list of ingredients.  She snorted in a
rather unladylike fashion.  "Bother, of course that's what I did.  I
must have been thinking of the tonic I made up for Lady Harrington.
That was the one which required the extra lavender."  She roe fully
shook her head.  "Dear me, Charlotte, what would I do without you to
keep me straight?"

"I daresay you should manage, Aunt," Charlotte replied fondly.  She
inserted the last of the roses into the vase and then stood back to
regard her handiwork.  "There, that will do nicely.  What do you
think?"

Aunt Kittie beamed her approval.  "Oh, Charlotte, that looks lovely.
You have definitely inherited my sister's flair for the artistic.  Lord
knows, I was never any good at arranging flowers or the like.  Your
mother despaired of me in that regard, and in a few others, I should
imagine."

"Never mind, Aunt, you are far more talented at making use of flowers
and plants than I could ever be," Charlotte replied truthfully.
"Speaking of which, would you still like me to fetch that lavender for
you?"

"Hmm?  Oh, yes, go on then, dear.  I can always use a little extra.  No
doubt Lady Harrington will be asking for some more of her tonic soon. I
vow the woman bathes in it.  You do remember where it is, don't you?
Bottom left corner of the garden, just behind the sweet basil."

Seeing her niece nod, Aunt Kittie adjusted the spectacles which were
perched rather precariously on the end of her nose and returned her
attention to the well-used book in her hand.  "Now, have I forgotten
anything else?  I have the juniper, the rosemary and the white wax,
though I may have to substitute something for the rose essence."  She
glanced at Charlotte over the rim of her glasses.  "Do you think Lady
Broughton will mind smelling of lemons this time, rather than roses?"

Charlotte laughed as she picked up her shawl and draped it around her
shoulders.  "I am sure she will not mind how she smells as long as the
balm works.  Have you seen my bonnet, Aunt Kittie?"

"Your bonnet?  No dear, I haven't.  When did you last use it?"

"This morning when I went to cut the roses.  !  thought I left it in
here.  Oh, well, I suppose it doesn't really matter," Charlotte said.
"I shan't be in the sun long enough to produce a frightening amount of
freckles."

"Well, if you do, there is a wonderful recipe for mustard ointment here
in the herbal.  Now, where did I see that..."

Charlotte shook her head.  as she picked up the basket and headed out
into the garden.  Dear Aunt Kittie.  While there was no denying that
she was somewhat eccentric, it was also true that.  she was exceedingly
popular with the members of the beau monde.  There was hardly a lady in
London who had not come to her aunt for something.  Oil of cloves for
toothache.  Pimpernel water for the complexion.  And her mustard
plasters were said to be the finest available!

Charlotte finally located the patch of lavender and set her basket on
the ground beside it.  Sinking to her knees on the soft grass, she
began to break off the stems and place them carefully in the basket so
as not to damage either the leaves or the flowers.  Aunt Kittie was
most particular that her flowers not be bruised.

It was there Lord Marwood found her, her dark head bent over her work.
He smiled to himself at the perfection of the heart-shaped face with
its rose-dusted cheeks and sweetly curved lips.  By God, she was a
beauty!  And obviously not expecting callers.  "Good afternoon, Miss
Kingsley."

Charlotte saw his shadow a moment before he spoke and glanced up at him
in dismay.  "Lord Marwood!"  Her hand went immediately to her uncovered
head in a futile attempt to smooth back the wispy tendrils of hair
which had pulled loose of their pins.  "Oh, dear, I had not expected,
that is, I thought Aunt Kittie would have asked you to ... wait," she
finished lamely.

Marwood chuckled.  "Your aunt was rather engrossed in a book when I
arrived.  I don't know that she even registered who she was ting to go
out into the garden to find you."

Typical, Charlotte reflected ruefully.  Once Kittie got her nose into
Dr.  Culpeper's book, one might as well be talking to the wall.  "Dear
Aunt Kittie," CharlOtte sighgd.  "She is a sweet soul, though she does
tend to become rather ... distracted at times.  I am sure if Mama were
alive, she would have a fit at the kind of chaperonage I am
receiving."

"She might wonder at the chaperonage, but I am sure she would be happy
about everything else.  Your aunt loves you very much,"

"As I do her," Charlotte said indulgently.  "She often asks me what she
would do without me, but if the truth were known, I think I should be
more lost without her than the other way round."

"And what of me, Miss Kingsley?"  Mar-wood's voice was quiet.  "Might I
hope that you could come to care so deeply for me one day?"

Charlotte looked up at him with refreshing candour.  "Do you not know
me well enough, Lord Marwood, to know how much I have already come to
care for you?"

Marwood heard the softness of his name on her lips and marvelled at the
effect it had upon him.  Never in his life had he been so captivated by
a woman.  Everything about Charlotte enchanted him--the softness of her
voice, the music of her laughter... It was as much as he could do not
to scoop her up into his arms and carry her off.

Instead, he forced himself to extend his hand and offer a polite "May

I?"

Charlotte glanced up at him from beneath lowered lashes as she
tentatively placed her hand in his.  As always, his touch caused the
strangest constriction in her throat.  But then, it was hardly
surprising that it should.  Devon Royce was a commanding figure of a
man.  Tall, broad shouldered with well-muscled arms and a body kept fit
by constant exercise, he was easily one of the most dashing gentlemen
she had ever met.  His thick black hair waved smoothly to the collar of
his impeccably cut jacket, while his handsome face was lightly tanned
from hours spent riding in the sun.  He was a man Who enjoyed life, and
who took from it what he wanted.

Suddenly aware that she had been staring, Charlotte blushed and hastily
averted her eyes.  "Well, I suppose, I had best take the lavender back
to..."

"Miss Kingsley, a moment fore you go.  I would like to talk to you
alone."

Charlotte felt her pulse quicken.  "My lord, I really should be
returning.  My auntm"

"Your aunt will not mind."  Marwood's face creased in a knowing smile.
"Apart from the fact that she probably won't even remember that I am
out here, I don't think she will object when she discovers the nature
of what I have come to say."

As DevOn led her towards the stone bench by the fountain, Charlotte
cast one last glance towards the back door.  "My lord, I really
think--"

"Miss Kingsley, do you intend to keep interrupting me the entire time I
have you out here?"  Marwood asked in some amusement.

"No, my lord.  I was merely concerned about ... Lady Broughton's
balm."

"Lady Broughton's ba...?  No, never mind, I don't think I want to
know."  Charlotte valiantly hid her smile.  "No, I am sum that you do
not.  Very well, my lord," she said, sitting down on the bench and
placing the basket on the ground at her feet.  "You now have my
undivided attention."

"I am glad to hear it, because I 'think 'you know what I have come to
say."  Marwood sat down beside her and then hesitated.  The delicate
fragrance of lavender mingled with a seductive scent all her own went
to his head like the most potent of wine, causing him to forget the
carefully rehearsed words he had been about to say.  "I swear you
bewitch me, Miss Kingsley.  I have never found myself at such a loss
for words in the presence of a woman before.  Nor am I accustomed to
having my mind so filled with thoughts of your blue eyes that I cannot
see anything or anyone else."

Charlotte bit her lip in an effort to hide her amusement, surprised to
find the normally eloquent earl so obviously ill at ease.  "Dear me,
that does sound confusing, my lord.  Is there a cure for this
affliction, do you think?"

"I assure you there is, but I guarantee you will not find a recipe for
this in your aunt's book!"

Charlotte gasped a moment before his mouth came down upon hers,
silencing the words she had been about to utter.  She felt the strength
of his arms as they closed around her, drawing her ever closer to his
heart until she could feel the steady beating of it beneath his jacket.
She shivered as she felt Devon's fingers move upwards along her throat
and then cup her chin while his lips pressed warm, intimate caresses
against the tender curve of her mouth.

When he eventually pulled away, Charlotte slowly opened her eyes,
tilting her face back so that she could look up into his eyes.  "I see
you gave UP trying to find the words," she said unsteadily.

Marwood's reply came in the form of a throaty chuckle, his gaze resting
pointedly on her lips, which were rosy from his kiss.  "Some things are
best said without words, my dear, as you will come to discover.  Though
what I am about to say cannot be said in any other way."  Devon's gaze
grew suddenly serious, "I cannot tell you without words that I see your
face in my mind a hundred different times a day.  I cannot explain the
emptiness that I feel whenever you are not with me, nor the fulfilment
I know when you are.  I can only tell you that I find myself enchanted
by you, and wish for nothing more than to say the words which are in my
heart and to hear your answer as quickly as possible.  Dearest
Charlotte, will you marry me?"

Charlotte smiled.  "Yes, Devon," she replied softly.  "I should be very
proud to be your wife."

Marwood caught his breath at the love he saw reflected in her eyes and,
fighting the urge to sweep her into his arms again, slowly reached into
his jacket.  "This was my mother's ring," he told her quietly.  "She
wore it all the years of her married life.  She gave it to me that I
might see my wife wear it."  He reverently slipped the ring onto
Charlotte's finger.  "I hope that you will wear it all the years of
yours, with me."  Lifting her hand, Marwood pressed a fervent kiss into
the softly scented skin, his eyes meeting hers.

Unexpectedly, Charlotte felt the tremble of tears on her lashes.  "Oh,
Devon, I..."

The words stuck uselessly in her throat, but Marwood saw what she was
trying to say.  "I love you too, Charlotte," he whispered, before his
lips came down on hers once again, capturing her mouth in a kiss that
sealed his promise, and bound her to him forever.

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEWS of the engagement of the Earl of Mar-wood and Miss Charlotte
Kingsley appeared in the Times before the end of the week, and as
expected, Charlotte was showered with good wishes from her friends and
relations.  Laura Beaufort had been delighted by her long-time friend's
remarkable good fortune, as well as by being asked to be a bridesmaid
at what would no doubt be the wedding of the Season.

"Are you and Lord Marwood planning a long engagement?"  Laura enquired
as the two girls sat together in Charlotte's bedroom one afternoon,
studying the latest bridal fashions from Paris.

Charlotte shook her head.  "I shouldn't think so.  Though we haven't
yet set the date, neither of us sees much point in waiting."

"No, I don't suppose there is, once you have made up your mind to marry
someone."  Laura sighed enviously.  "The Countess of Marwo d. Oh,
Lotte, you are so lucky.  Your aunt must be thrilled."

"I don't know that Aunt Kittie thinks as much about the fact that I am
marrying an earl, as that I am marrying the most handsome man she has
ever met.  She has already checked her tea-leaves and is predicting a
long, happy marriage for me."  '

"She told me she was making a special perfume for you to use on your
wedding night."  Laura giggled.  "One that will work like a love
potion."

Charlotte's cheeks flushed a rosy pink as she quickly pulled forward a
copy of La Belle As-serobide.  She hardly needed a love potion.  When
Devon had kissed her in the garden, Charlotte had felt a fire spread
through her body like molten flames as the intimacy of his kiss had
deepened.  It was a feeling she had never experienced before, and it
startled her to know that something as simple as a kiss could spark
such a wealth of emotions.

Unaware of the direction of her friend's thoughts, Laura glanced at the
beautiful emerald-and-diamond ring on Charlotte's finger and sighed. "I
just know it is going to be a beautiful wedding.  If only Edward could
be here to enjoy it with you.  He would be so proud."

Charlotte paused, her smile fading at the mention of her brother's
name.  Dearest Edward.  As a child, Charlotte had worshipped her
handsome older brother, and when their parents had both perished in a
tire, Edward had become her rock--the strength upon which she had
survived.  He was a part of her.

Some of her pain must have revealed itself in her eyes, for Laura
impulsively laid a hand on Charlotte's arm.  "Has there still been no
news?"

Charlotte shook her head sadly.  "No, nothing.  No one seems to know
where Edward is.  There are no records of his mission, no reports as to
where he was last seen It is almost as though he had vanished."

"But surely someone must know something.  What about Lord Marwood?"
Laura enquired hopefully.  "He has connections at court.  Have you
spoken with him about it?"

Charlotte sighed.  "I haven't even told Lord Marwood that Edward
exists."

Laura gazed at her in astonishment.  "Do you mean that Lord Marwood
doesn't know you have a brother?"

Charlotte hesitated for a moment.  "Laura, what I am about to tell you
is highly confidential.  It must go no further than this room.  Do you
promise?"

Laura's eyes widened in alarm, but she quickly nodded.  "I promise."
"About a year after Edward went away, Lord Osborne contacted me.  From
the war minister's office.  He informed me that Edward was doing.
specialized work.  He went on to say that given the nature of my
brother's assignment, and the fact that his exact whereabouts were
unknown, it might be better if I did not volunteer too much information
about him to people who did not already know him."

"Not volunteer information!  Really, Charlotte, I do think Lord Osborne
was being a trifle high-handed," Laura objected.  "I mean, how can he
expect you to suddenly deny the existence of a brother?  What of the
fact that you both bear the same last name, for example?"

Charlotte slowly shook her head.  "Perhaps we no longer do, Laura. They
may have given Edward a whole new identity, and that is something Lord
Osborne would not have been at liberty to tell me."

Laura abruptly sat up.  "Gracious, that could be exactly what they have
done, Charlotte, and the reason why.  no one has been able to find
Edward.  I have just finished reading the most marvelous story in which
the heroine was a spy.  She was a princess, actually, but no one knew
who she really was."  Laura's eyes grew dreamy.  "It was such a
wonderful story.  She fell in love with the count she had been engaged
to kill, but who turned out to be the hero after all, and she married
him.  It was all dreadfully romantic."

"Yes, well, I am sure I do not find anything remotely romantic about
this whole affair," Charlotte remarked more sharply than she in,
tended.  "All I want to hear is that Edward is alive, whatever his name
is now."

"Yes, of course you do," Laura said, suitably chastised.

Glancing at her friend's downcast expression, Charlotte grimaced.  "Oh,
Laura, I am sorry, I did not mean' to cut up at you like that.  It's
just that I am so desperate to hear news of Edward.  Every day I check
the post, hoping for a letter from him, telling me that he is coming
home.  That would make my happiness complete."  Charlotte paused, her
smile returning.  "Still, if nothing else, at least I can draw comfort
from the knowledge that he is alive."

Laura stared at her in bewilderment.  "You know that?  But how?"

"Becau{se Edward and I were always very close that way, especially
after our parents died.  I would know in my heart if something had
happened to him."

Charlotte sighed again, shutting her eyes against the tears which
inevitably formed at the thought of her beloved brother.  She could not
bear the thought of him all alone out there in the remote French
countryside.  If, in fact, he was still in France.  Given the nature of
her brother's work, he might be almost anywhere.

"Well, at least you can draw comfort from the fact that Edward is still
alive," Laura said, hoping to lift the mood of despondency which had
settled upon them.  "And before the end of the year, you will be the
Countess of Marwood.  Is it not exciting, Lotte?"

Charlotte smiled her agreement.  "Yes, of course it is, and I am
terribly pleased.  Now if I could only hear some good news about
Edward, everything would be just perfect!"

AT MR.  O'SHAUNESSY'S rooms in St.  James's

Street, at precisely eleven o'clock the following morning, Marwood
lifted his steel and warily faced his opponent.  The man opposite him
was nearly as skilled a swordsman as he, and knew well how and when to
strike.  Not for a moment did Marwood dare relax his guard.

Cautiously, the two men circled each other, lightly poised to spring.
Then, with the swiftness of a cat, Marwood lunged.  Steel clashed
against steel, and arms, well muscled from long hours of holding aloft
the long, tapering foil, darted out and back.

Lunge!  Parry!  Riposte!  Marwood deflected a parry, and then with the
lightning speed for which he was known, lunged again, breaking through
his opponent's defence and accurately pressing the protected tip of his
foil against the reinforced pad on his opponent's chest for the fifth
time.

"Touchd, Longworth!"  Marwood cried victoriously.  "And my bout.  That
puts me three in the lead."  Marwood removed his protective mask and
grinned at his friend, aware that they were both breathing heavily.
"Shall we call it?"

Longworth nodded and likewise removed his mask.  His face beneath was
bathed in sweat.  "Damn you, Marwood!"  Nicholas swore affably.  "I'll
get the better of you one day, though God knows when it will be.  I
swear you improve by the round."

The earl laughed and set his foil on the table provided outside the
duelling area, where another two combatants had already moved in to
take their positions.  "The way you are going, it may not be long.
Though I must say you were off stride today, my friend.  I don't
normally catch you out that easily.  Anything wrong?"

Longworth set his own foil down next to Mar-wood's and shook his head
absently.  "Not really.  Just a little tired."

Lord Marwood regarded the younger man knowingly.  "At Barrymore's table
again last night?"  he enquired with a chuckle.  "I hear he trounced
you rather badly last week."

Longworth's hesitation was almost imperceptible.  "Yes, he did.  I
thought the least I could do was make an effort to win it back."

"And did you?"

Longworth shook his head.  "I fear I was no luckier than the last time.
I shall have to try again next week, I suppose."

Surprisingly, Longworth's words were noticeably lacking in conviction,
and it struck Mar-wood that his friend's tone did not ring true.  But a
quick glance at Longworth's face bore no evidence of anything amiss.
Perhaps he was just being overly Sensitive, Marwood reflected.

The two men changed their clothes and then strolled through the busy
London streets towards their club, lingering there long enough to
partake of a thoroughly enjoyable lunch in the pleasantly masculine
ambience provided by a good gentlemen's club.  That accomplished, they
headed back to Marwood's residence in Grosvenor Square for some quiet
conversation.

As they settled themselves in the library, Longworth accepted a glass
of port from Robertson who, after setting the decanter and another
glass on a tray beside the earl, left the two men to chat for a while
about the latest news of the war.  It seemed that things were going
badly for Bonaparte.  With Wellington's overwhelming rout of the French
at Vittoria, the people's confidence was strengthened, and there was a
renewed feeling that Britain would emerge victorious.

Marwood had seen a brief stint in that war.  Operating undercover as
Longworth did, he had quickly proven himself a valuable asset to His
Majesty's forces.  Indeed, Marwood sometimes regretted his return to
civilian life and had, out of necessity, distanced himself from the
service upon his return to England, Nevertheless, when Longworth had
gone on to take his place, the two men had begun to meet in the privacy
of Marwood's home to discuss what they could of the situation.

"I was not being completely honest with you earlier when I said that
everything was all right," Longworth admitted.  "It seems I shall be
leaving again, There has been a development."

Marwood glanced at him sharply.  "A little soon, isn it?  I thought
Osborne wanted time to let the dust settle before he sent you back."

"I thought so, too, but it seems the nature of the business will not
allow any delay.  If Hornby had ordered my return, I might be a little
more suspicious, but these were Osborne's direct orders."

Marwood nodded.  Osborne was the same man he had reported to during his
brief time in the service.  A good man.  Smart, shrewd and hard as
nails when he had to be.

"Well, I'm sure Osborne would not risk sending you back unless he felt
it was absolutely necessary."  Marwood thoughtfully sipped his port. 
"It must be important."

"I haven't seen the orders yet, but I would imagine so.  I shall be
meeting with Osborne tomorrow.  By all accounts, I should be away about
a week."  Longworth gave his friend a knowing glance.  "Try to stay out
of trouble while I'm gone, will you?"

Marwood grinned back at him wryly.  "I shall do my best.  By the by, I
know things may be a bit up in the air over the next while, but any
chance of your being in the country long enough to stand up as my
groom's man?"

Longworth's smile widened.  "Stand up with you?  By Jove, dashed good
of you to ask.  Yes, of course.  I would be honoured."  He lifted his
glass in a toast.  "To Miss Kingsley.  May the two of you know only
happiness and contentment together."

Marwood raised his glass.  "I cannot think.  that married to Charlotte
I could know anything else, but I appreciate the sentiment all the
same.  Will you bring a guest?"

Longworth shook his head wistfully.  "No.  There is still only one lady
in my heart, Dev, and at the moment she is hiding somewhere in France.
Still," he said, glancing at his friend thoughtfully, "perhaps it is
just as well that La-vinia not return before you are safely wed.  I
seem to remember her once commenting to me that you had a particularly
fine seat."

"Did she, indeed?"  Marwood chuckled appreciatively.  "And what is
wrong with a lady remarking upon my riding skills?"

"Nothing, except I don't recall you to have been astride your horse at
the time!"

Marwood stared, and then threw back his head and laughed.  "Well, you
may rest assured, my friend, that as enchanting as Lavinia is, my eyes
are firmly riveted on one Charlotte Kingsley.  My only hope is that
your own wedding will not be too long in coming, so that you may share.
in the joy which I myself have so recently discovered."

Nicholas raised his glass in another toast.  "That, my friend, is a
hope sincerely echoed by myself.  And with God, the Frenchies and my
dear Lavinia willing, one which I hope shall come to pass without too
much delay!"

Two LRS were smuggled out of France by special messenger later that
same week, one to the personal attention of Lord Percival Osborne,
Whitehall, the other to Miss Charlotte Kingsley, Green Street.

Charlotte's letter, when it arrived, was taken by Dickens and inserted
between a number of other pieces of mail and placed on the silver
salver in the hall.  It sat there for almost an hour until Charlotte
came in from the garden where she had been cutting flowers.  Briefly
stopping to pick up the small bundle of letters, she carried it, along
with the basket of roses, into the sunny morning room.  She had not
looked at more than three letters, however, before she came to the one
which had been specially delivered.  The handwriting on the outside
caused her stomach to clench.  "Oh, my God.  Edward?"  she whispered
incredulously.

Charlotte closed her eyes, painfully aware of the pounding of her
heart.  She had Waited so long for this moment, but now that it Was at
hand, she was almost afraid to open the envelope.  What if it contained
bad news?

Finally casting aside whatever doubts she was suffering, Charlotte tore
open the envelope and drew out the single sheet of paper.  She took a
deep breath and steeled herself to read the words.  The message.  was
brief, containing no more than a few lines, and she read it in seconds.
Her eyes filled with tears, blurring the writing on the page.  "Anna!"
she called frantically.  "Anna, are you there?"

The maid quickly appeared.  "Yes, Miss Charlotte?"

"Please fetch my aunt at once!"

Wide-eyed, the maid skittered out of the room.  Moments later,
Charlotte heard the sound of her aunt's footsteps on the stairs.
"Charlotte?"

"Aunt Kittie, come quickly!"

"Charlotte, whatever is the matter, child?"  Aunt Kittie said,
appearing in the doorway.  She paused in dismay when she saw tears
streaming down her niece's cheeks and a letter hanging limply from her
fingers.  "Oh, dear, is it ... bad news?"

Charlotte glanced down at the letter again, and then back towards her
aunt, hardly able to form the words.  "It's ... Edward."

Aunt Kittie drew in her breath and leaned heavily against the back of
the nearest chair.  "Edward!  Is he ... dead?"

Charlott shook her head, filled with a lightness Of spirit she had not
felt in three long years.  "No, Aunt Kittie.  He's alive," Charlotte
said breathlessly, ecstatically, "He's safe and he is coming home.
Edward is coming home!"

LORD LONG WORTH set out for France the very day Charlotte received her
brothers letter.  During a brief meeting with Lord Osborne, Long-worth
had received his final instructions, and as a result, was better able
to comprehend the importance of his mission, as well as the need for
haste.

'"Tis no wonder Osborne was so anxious about this," Longworth said to
Marwood as the two men sat together in the earl's closed carriage,
heading for the coast.  "We had thought the man long dead.  Then, out
of the blue, a message arrives from one of our chaps in Paris telling
us that the fellow is alive and asking for our help in getting him out
of France.  The letter Osborne received today confirmed it."

"How long has he been missing?"  Marwood asked.

"Almost a year."

"My God, the fact that he's still alive is nothing short of a miracle;"
Marwood said grimly.  "Any idea what happened to him?

- Longworth shrugged, the gesture almost hidden by the bulkiness of the
black, multi-caped greatcoat.  "We don't have a lot to go on, but from
what little Osborne has been able to tell me, it seems that our fellow
has been hiding out with a peasant family close to the Belgian border.
By the sound of things, whatever information he has stumbled across is
extremely valuable and Boney's men have been scouring the countryside
for him.  I'll give him his due, if he has been able to elude those
devils all this time, he deserves to get out alive.  He will meet with
a quick and brutal end if Bonaparte's men get to him first."

"Who is he?"  Marwood asked, intrigued.  "Don't know his real name,"
Longworth replied.  "Goes by the code name Robin.  I had heard rumours
the last time I was abroad that Napoleon's henchmen were looking for an
English bird, but I never connected 'the two."

"It is not surprising, considering the fact that Bonaparte's men are
always looking for someone," Marwood pointed out.  "Do you have to find
this Robin, or will he be waiting your arrival?"

"No.  Apparently he will be travelling to a point just outside Amiens
and I'm to meet him there.  Osborne feels the difficulty will be in
getting him down to the coast undetected.  There will be a b9at
harboured just west of Calais.  If we make it that far, it should be
clear sailing.  Osborne has arranged for one of his other men to meet
us at DOver and bring the Robin to London."

Marwood looked surprised.  "You're not bringing him here yourself?."

"No, my mission stops at the coast," Longworth said quietly.  "I have
to carry on up to the north of England for a few days.  All being well,
I should be back about the middle of next week."

Marwood nodded, and the two men subsided into silence.  Marwood was
well aware of the danger to both Longworth's life and the life of the
man he was being sent to find.  "Damn, I wish I were going with you,"
he said unexpectedly.  "This man is obviously of great value to

Bonaparte, and there are going to be a lot of people looking for him.
And for you, my friend."

"Probably," Longworth agreed with a slow smile.  "But then, you and I
didn't get into this game because we thought it was going to be easy,
Dev, and neither did the Robin.  The man has put his life on the line
for his country any number of times during the past three years.  It
seems a small enough request to try to get him out in one piece now.
You know you would feel exactly the same way if you were in my
place."

Marwood smiled ruefully.  "I already do feel the same way, and I'm not
even in your place.  Just be careful.  Remember what I said about your
being in my wedding."

Longworth laughed as the carriage slowed.  He stretched out his hand,
clasping Marwood's in a firm grip.  "I remember.  And don't worry--I in
tend to be there.  I have waited too long to see Devon Royce shut up in
the parson's pound to let Bonaparte keep me from the enjoyment of
it."

The carriage came to a halt and Longworth glanced out into the
darkness.  He turned the collar of his black greatcoat up around his
face, nearly obscuring it.  "Right, I'm off," he said, opening the
door.  The smell of sea air assailed their nostrils.  "Do not tarry
here, my friend.  The night is dangerous."

Marwood needed no further warning.  "God be with you, Nicholas."

Longworth nodded, and then disappeared into the night.  Closing the
door behind him, Mar-wood sat back against the squabs for a few minutes
before thumping the handle of his cane against the roof.

Whatever happened now, Longworth was on his own.  It was up to him to
find the Robin, and to bring him safely home.  The future of England
might well depend on it!

CHAPTER THREE

CHARLO'II'II'E READ and re-read her brother's letter until the words
were engraved in her heart.

It was short, no more than a few lines in length, but to Charlotte,
they were the sweetest words she had ever seen:

My dearest Charlotte,

All is well, and expect to be home soon.  Have missed you dreadfully.
Pray tell noo one of this.

My love, as always,

Edward

Expect to be home soon.

The words "no one" had been underlined and caused Charlotte a certain
amount of anguish.  She'd had to tell Aunt Kittie, of course.  She
could hardly be expected to keep news like that from her own aunt.  But
how could she not tell Devon that her brother was coming home?  She had
not even been able to tell him about Edward's existence.  Now, not to
be able to share the great joy his letter had brought seemed even more
frustrating.

But, knowing that Edward's welfare was yet at stake, Charlotte
willingly kept her silence, en-treating Aunt Kittie to do the same.
Once her brother was home, they would be able to tell everyone.  For
now, Edward, s safety was paramount.

When Marwood escorted Charlotte to Lady Harrington's soirte two nights
later, he knew that something was not right.  Charlotte was acting in a
most peculiar manner.  There was an air of distraction about her, a
forced gaiety that was not at all natural.  To Marwood, it seemed as
though his fiancte were keeping a secret, something that she obviously
preferred not to disclose.

"Charlotte," Marwood said after repeating the same question for the
third time.  "Are you feeling quite the thing this evening?"

"Yes, of course, my lord," Charlotte replied a little too quickly.  Why
would you ask?"

"Because I have just had cause to ask you the same question three times
without once having had benefit of your answer," Marwood said
indulgently.  "Is it my question which is unexceptionable, or merely
the manner in which I am phrasing it?"

Charlotte blushed self-consciously.  "Neither, Devon.  Pray forgive my
lack of attention.  It was simply that my mind was ... wandering."

"Your mind has been wandering a few times this evening," Marwood
pointed out gently.  "Are you sure you are well?"

"Perfectly."  Charlotte belatedly gave Devon the full benefit of her
attention, knowing that she had to.  He was far too perceptive not to
notice even the slightest change in her demeanour.  He had already done
so once, and Charlotte had no wish to compound her guilt by lying to
him about the cause of it.

"Ah, Lord Marwood, Miss Kingsley, how pleased I am to see the two of
you this evening," Lady Harrington said.  "And may I offer my somewhat
belated congratulations on your betrothal.  I have not had opportunity
to see either of you in person Since the announcement was made.  Have
you set a date for the wedding?"

"Not yet, Lady Harrington," Marwood replied smoothly, "though we shall
be doing so over the next few days."

Lady Harrington beamed her approval.  "How delightful.  You must both
be very excited.  I imagine some of your friends were rather taken
aback by the news, Lord Marwood."

Marwood laughed easily.  "Indeed, Lady Harrington  I fear most of them
had begun to think me a confirmed bachelor."

"Hadn't we all?"  Lady Harrington lightly tapped her fan against the
lapels of his jacket.  "I am only glad that I did not have a
marriageable daughter casting her heart at you all this time.  I know
many of the other ladies who did, and they were in positive despair of
your ever choosing a wife.  But obviously all that was required was the
right woman to come along to put such thoughts into your head.  And
clearly dear Charlotte was the one to do it.  You are judged very
fortunate, my dear, but then I'm sure you already know that."  She
waited expectantly.  "Charlotte?"

Marwo&t turned towards his fiancee, dismayed to see that she was
staring off into space, a strange, almost wistful smile hovering about
her lips.  She did not even appear to have heard the question put to
her.  Fortunately Lady Harrington did not seem in the least perturbed
by Charlotte's preoccupation.

"Never mind, my lord, no doubt she is still a trifle overwhelmed by it
all.  I feel quite sure she will settle down, given a few more days.
After all; it is not every day a girl becomes betrothed to the dashing
Earl of Marwood, is it?"

It might as well have been, Marwood decided a little peevishly as Lady
Harrington drifted away to mingle with her other guests.  Wherever
Charlotte's thoughts were, they were certainly not with him.  Nor
anywhere else in this room, for that matter.  She was definitely
distracted.  Consequently, it hardly came as a surprise to him when,
little more than an hour later, Charlotte expressed her desire to go
home.

"You wish to leave already, Charlotte?"  Mar-wood tried to ignore the
niggling finger of doubt poking him.  "But it is not at all late."

Charlotte gave him her most charming smile.  "I know, but I confess I
am a little tired, Devon, what with all these parties and celebrations
in our honour.  I had no idea it was such hard work being betrothed."

Marwood chuckled, his doubts asuaged.  "I had thought you were made of
sterner stuff, Miss Kingsley," he teased her.  "I see I shall have to
take very good care of you once we are wed."

Charlotte placed gentle fingers on his ann.  "I certainly hope so, my
lord."

As Devon went ahead to collect her wrap, Charlotte breathed a sigh of
relief.  In truth, she was not the least tired, but she was in a
positive ridge to get home!  She had no idea when Edward might arrive,
and she desperately wanted to be there to greet him when he did.

By the time they arrived in Green Street, Aunt

Kittie was just preparing to go up to bed.  "Ah, there you are, my
dears.  Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, very good, Aunt."  Charlotte's eyes darted anxiously around the
hall, looking for signs of a new arrival.  "How was your evening?"

"Quite uneventful," Aunt Kittie replied absently.  "Though I did'
finally manage to beat Anna at cards.  Dreadful girl has become quite
sharp. Are you coming up, dear?"

Charlotte breathed an inward sigh of relief Clearly, Edward had not yet
arrived.  "Yes, Aunt Kittie, I shall be there directly.  You go on
ahead."

"All right then.  Good night, both."

When the sound of her aunt's footsteps died away, Charlotte turned back
towards her fiance.  "Would you like anything before you go, my lord?"
she whispered softly, moving into his arms.

Marwood smiled in a way that set Charlotte's pulse racifig.  "I would,
but I fear it is not' something your aunt would approve of, nor
something I am likely to take in the darkness of a deserted hall."
Devon lowered his head, his mouth covering hers in the possessive,
demanding kiss she was beginning to know so well.

Charlotte moaned softly, marvelling that the feel of this man's mouth
against hers could spark such a fiery resPOnse.  She felt the warmth of
his fingers through the thin material of her gown and pressed against
him, aware of a fervent longing to be in his arms, to be fully his. She
was astonished by the POwer of the emotions he roused in her, Was this
what it was to truly be loved by a man?  she wondered, savouring the
headiness of the experience.

To her dismay, Marwood chuckled.  "Mmm, what wicked thoughts are you
entertaining, Charlotte?"  he asked, drawing back and gazing down into
her eyes.

"Nothing, my lord," Charlotte replied, flustered.  "It is ... but the
heat of the evening air."

"Is it, indeed?"  he remarked, enjoying the smooth feel of her skin
under his palm, tempted to let his hands continue their pleasurable
roaming.  "We!!"  I shall leave allowing you to believe that, but I
think we had best set a wedding date not too far distant," he said,
well aware of the direction his own thoughts were taking.  "I, for one,
dO not wish to wait any longer than is absolutely necessary."

Seeing no need' for pretence, Charlotte gazed up into his dark eyes and
shook her head.  "No, Devon, nor do I. I want very much to be your
wife.  And as far as I am concerned, the sooner the better."

"Good," Marwood said with obvious satisfaction.  "Then I shall call
round tomorrow morning that we may set the date."

Charlotte gave him a brilliant smile, making him forget all his earlier
misgivings.  "Yes, and pray do not be too late," she said saucily.

Marwood pressed another' long lingering kiss against her lips before
resolutely setting her away from 'him.  "Rest assured I shall not be,
my sweet.  In fact, if I had my way, I would save us both a great deal
of time and be waking up with you tomorrow morning."

"Devon!"  Charlotte gasped.

"Good night, dear Charlotte."  Marwood laughed and bowed himself out
the door.  "Sleep well, for tomorrow will be a busy day!"

Closing the door behind him, Charlotte smiled and headed for the
stairs, hugging the knowledge of Devon's love close to her.

As she did, she had little way of knowing that at that very moment, two
men were crossing the icy black Waters of the English Channel enroute
to Dover.  She had no way of knowing that one of those men was so weary
that he could barely stand, and that it was only the thought of
returning to England and of finally seeing the beloved little sister he
had left behind, which kept him from collapsing altogether.

AT HALF-PAST ELEVEN the following morning, Marwood applied himself to
the knocker at Charlotte's door.  It opened at once.

"Good morning, Dickens," Devon cheerfully greeted the butler as he
stepped into the hall.  "Is Miss Kingsley available?"

"Indeed, my lord."  Dickens took the earl's hat and gloves.  "She is
just having a word with Miss Harper in the dining-room.  If you would
be good enough to await her in the yellow salon, I shall tell her that
you are here."

He led the earl into the appointed room.  "May I offer you some
refreshment, my lord?"

Marwood shook his head.  "Thank you, no, Dickens.  I have but recently
breakfasted.  I shall content myself to wait for Miss Kingsley."

Bowing himself out, Dickens closed the door, leaving Marwood to stroll
about the room in a supremely contented frame of mind.  He was far too
restless to sit.  Being a man used to athletic pursuits, Marwood found
the rather indolent approach to life favoured by the ton decidedly
untenable, especially when it came to the practice of sitting in
overcrowded drawing-rooms, making aimless conversation with simpering
girls or dandies for hours on end.

For Charlotte, however, he would wait forever.  The earl glanced around
him now, noting that while the room was not as spacious as any of those
in his house in Grosvenor Square, it had been decorated with just as
much care and with an almost artistic elegance due, he felt sure, to
Charlotte's own unerring sense of taste and refinement.  The
furnishings were of excellent quality.  Marwood's glance took in the
escritoire set against the far wall, and he strolled over to examine it
more carefully.  It was an exceptionally fine piece of workmanship,
clearly late sixteenth century, and obviously used by Charlotte and her
aunt for correspondence.  Even now, a clutter of letters lay strewn
over the top in a haphazard fashion.

Marwood recognized the invitation to Lady Rowallayne's ball, having
received one himself, as well as a number of other notes and letters
with pressed flowers and assorted fancy work in the corner, obviously
from lady friends.  But it was the letter tucked up into the corner of
the escritoire--a letter which had obviously been folded and refolded
countless number of times--which ca tight Marwood's eye.  The signature
at the bottom caused him to stop and take a second look.

""My' love, as always, Edward,"" Marwood read aloud.

Shedding all pretence of casual interest, Mar wood picked up the letter
and gazed at it carefully.  It was written in a bold masculine script,
and it was brief, no more than a few lines in length.  It looked as
though it had been penned in a hurry.  It was addressed, "My dearest
Charlotte."

My dearest Charlotte?

The intimate term of address startled Mar-wood.  Charlotte was
receiving letters from an unknown gentleman?  No, it was impossible,
Marwood assured himself, throwing the letter back onto the desk.  The
idea was preposterous.  And yet, how could he deny the very proof which
he had just held in his hand?

Marwood glanced over his shoulder towards the door, his brow furrowing
as he tried to assess the importance of the information he had
inadvertently stumbled upon.  He was well aware that he was intruding
upon Charlotte's privacy by reading her letter, but at the moment, her
privacy was of secondary importance.  If Charlotte, as his betrothed,
was corresponding with another gentleman behind his back, Marwood
wanted to know.  It was his right, wasn't it?

Picking up the letter, Marwood read it through again, his eyes growing
darker with each painful word.

"My dearest Charlotte.  Have missed you dreadfully."  Well, that was
certainly clear enough, Marwood reflected grimly.  The letter was from
a man with Whom Charlotte had once been close--perhaps a gentleman who
meant a great deal to her!

"Pray tell no one of this."  How could he misconstrue that?  The fellow
obviously felt the need for secrecy.

"My love as always, Edward."  That was self-explanatory.

Marwood returned the letter to its resting place, all too aware of the
jealousy suddenly gnawing at his insides.  No wonder Charlotte had
seemed preoccupied at Lady Harrington's soiree last evening.  She
probably hadn't wanted to be there at all!  This letter had obviously
just come into her possession, informing her that the writer was coming
home.  She had been reluctant to attend, knowing that he might arrive
at any time.

And that was why she had been so eager to leave, Marwood reflected
bitterly.  Not because she was tired, but because she wanted to be here
in the event he came to visit.

Marwood rested his hands on the desk, trying to come io terms with his
confusion.  Was he wrong about the letter?  Lord knew, he wanted to
give Charlotte the benefit of the ddubt.  Unfortunately, no matter how
hard he tried, he could not forget how distracted Charlotte had been at
Lady Harrington's last night.  The memory of the soft smile on her lips
twisted in his gut like a knife.  That had not been the smile of an
unhappy woman, he realized now, but the smile of a woman anticipating a
much-awaited event, of looking forward to seeing something--or
someone--very much.  Someone she had not been willing to tell him
about.  And that hurt the most.

Five minutes later, Charlotte walked into the yellow salon only to find
the room empty.  Devon had already gone.

"DEVON?"  Charlotte called, glancing about her in surprise.  She
stepped out into the hall.  "Devon?"

"Can I help you, Miss Charlotte?"  Dickens enquired.

"Dickens, you did say that Lord Marwood had.  arrived?"

"Yes, miss.  I showed him into the salon."  "Did he seem in a hurry?"

"Not as I recall.  In fact, his lordship seemed in very good spirits'
indeed

"I see.  Did h say why he left?"

"He left?"  This time, even Dickens was incapable of hiding his
surprise.  "No, miss, he did not.  In fact, I was not aware that he
had.  I have his hat and gloves here still."

"Really?  How very odd," said Charlotte.  "Thank you, Dickens."

Alone again, Charlotte tried to make some sense of what had happened.
Devon had arrived, been shown into the salon, and then, barely five
minutes later, had left again, without a word for her, leaving behind
his hat and gloves.  It was certainly very curious.  And most unlike
Devon.  Whatever would have made him behave in such an inexplicable
manner?

Charlotte walked back into the salon and sat down on the settee.  Well,
if Devon had left in such haste, it was entirely possible that he might
return just as abruptly.  Therefore, surely it be-hooved her to remain
in the salon where' she

Was.

Yes, of course it did.  And it was with that comforting thought in mind
that Charlotte glanced briefly at the ormolu clock, picked up her
needlework and settled down to wait.

IN HlS STUDY at Grosvenor Square, Marwood angrily paced back and forth,
his hands clasped behind his back, his jaw clenched as he tried to
decide how best to handle this unexpected development.

Why had Charlotte not told him that she was already involved with
someone?  Marwood fumed silently.  Would it not have been better than
leading him down the garden path, making him believe that she was free
to bestow her heart wherever she wished?  Yes, it damn well would have
been, Marwood cursed, struggling to bring his steadily increasing anger
under control.  He had thought Charlotte loved him.  Yet now, as the
truth came to light, it appeared that he been nothing more than a
temporary diversion to fill her idle hours while she waited for this
Edward fellow to come back.  The letter he had found on the desk proved
that.  Or did it?

Marwood suddenly put a halt to his pacing.  If Charlotte had been
waiting for another man, why had she agreed to marry him?  Could it be
that Edward was nothing more than a former sweetheart of Charlotte's
who had gone away and still thought her enamoured of him?  Was it
possible that Charlotte was not corresponding with the fellow, but that
he had refused to stop writing to her?  Good Lord, might it not even be
possible that Charlotte herself had ended the relationship before the
man had left for parts unknown, but that he had not been willing to
accept her rejection?

That brought Marwood up short.  Yes, it certainly was possible.  In
fact, any one, if not all of those assumptions could have been true.
The more he thought about his beloved's sweet, trusting nature, the
more he was inclined to think that he had gravely misjudged her.

There had to be more to this letter than he was aware Of, and in all
fairness, he owed it to Charlotte to give her the opportunity to
explain herself.  He might well be upset over nothing.  Surely what he
knew of Charlotte told him that she could not be unfaithful.  Did he
not owe her his trust in this, as in all things?

Angered that he had let his jealousy get the better of him, Marwood
abruptly called for the carriage.  He would drive back to Green Street
immediately.  Once there, he would straighten out this whole silly
affair, and then he and Charlotte would set the date for their wedding,
as they should have done this morning.  With any luck, Charlotte would
forgive him for his rudeness.

With even more luck, she would never come to know the full extent to
which he had doubted her!

AT THE PRECISE MOMENT Marwood made his illuminating discovery, a
gentleman was stepping down from the closed carriage which had pulled
up to the front of the house in Green Street.  His features were nearly
indistinguishable; his forehead was hidden by the curly brimmed beaver
hat pulled down low over his eyes, and his lower face was covered by
the upturned collar of the heavy black greatcoat.

He stood for a moment and just gazed up at the house, a strange, almost
wistful expression in his deep blue eyes.

The man opened the gate and slowly walked up the path to the front
door.  He reached tentatively for the knocker, hesitated, and then
brought the heavy brass ornament down twice.

The sound seemed to reverberate through the house, and Charlotte, at
that moment descending the stairs, halted at the sound.  She could not
explain what it was that told her this was not a routine call.  She
just knew.  And as Dickens opened the door, Charlotte found herself
holding her breath, her heart beating with painful intensity.

There was a moment's hesitation as the door swung open and-the man
glanced in.  A flicker of recognition dawned in the blue eyes as they
rested on the familiar features of the faithful servant.

"Good afternoon, Dickens," he said tentatively.

On the stairs, Charlotte' pressed her hand against her mouth, muffling
her cry.  His voice was just the same, she realized dimly.  Deeper
perhaps than she remembered, but unmistakably his.  As was the wavy
dark hair, now lightly flecked with grey, and the brilliant blue eyes
which were revealed as he slowly removed his beaver hat and handed it
to the shocked butler.

Charlotte's book slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a
thud.

The noise drew the man's attention.  He glanced up to see a graceful
figure dressed in a rose-coloured gown, poised at the bottom of the
stairs, watching him.  His chest tightened at the sight of her face.
Surely this could not be the same coltish girl he remembered?
'tCharlotte?"

Though his vision blurred, he was aware of the young woman Calling his
name, the sound of her voice cutting through the long years of darkness
to touch something deep within his soul.

And then she was in his arms, calling his name through her tears.  He
caught her to him and spun her around, laughing and crying along with
her.  He stroked the dark, gleaming hair so like his own, and held her
as though his very life depended on it, feeling the emptiness of the
last three years fall away.

Edward Kingsley had come home!

CHAPTER FOUR

THE HOUSE appeared deserted when Marwood arrived; so much so that he
had to knock twice before anyone arrived to answer his call.  When the
door was finally opened by a young maid, however, Marwood's left
eyebrow rose expressively.  "Is Dickens not about?"

Anna blushed painfully.  "N-no, m' lord.  He's in the kitchen ... with
Mrs.  Bramble."

Marwood frowned.  The butler in the kitchen with the cook, leaving a
maid to open the door?  How very odd.  "Never mind."  He handed the
girl the second pair of York gloves and a beaver hat he had worn that
day. "Is Miss Kingsley at home?"

"Yes, m' lord, in the garden.  Shall I fetch her?"  '

"No, don't bother," Marwood said, warming to the idea of catching
Charlotte in the very garden where he had proposed to her.  "I know the
way."

Striding through the house, Marwood rehearsed the words he intended to
say.  He had thought about them all the way over in the carriage.  He
realized now that he must have made a mistake.  Charlotte would not
deceive him.  The fact that she had never so much as mentioned another
man in her life should have told Devon all he needed to know.

Clearly, the letter was nothing more than the last desperate plea of a
lovesick young man whose feelings for Charlotte had not been
reciprocated.  In fact, Marwood could almost bring himself to feel
sorry for the poor fellow.

But when he stepped down into the garden and caught a glimpse of
Charlotte sitting on the stone bench--with an unknown but obviously
happy gentleman on the seat beside her--the words of apology Marwood
had prepared died instantly on his lips.  Jealousy slashed viciously
through his heart.

He abruptly drew back into the shadows of the house and watched as
Charlotte and her gentleman slowly moved apart.  It was obvious that
while they were no longer embracing, the man was reluctaht to leave go
of her altogether and held on to one of her hands.  Marwood could not
hear what they were saying, but it was clear there was a strong current
of emotion between them.  He watched as Charlotte lifted one smooth
white hand to brush aside the lock of dark hair which had fallen
forward over the man's face.

The man seemed quite handsome, Marwood acknowledged, even though he did
not have the benefit of seeing him full face.  What he could see was
that his face was lean and somewhat haggard looking.  His clothes did
not fit particularly well, nor were they of the latest mode, but
neither of those shortcomings seemed to bother Charlotte.  Her eyes
were glued to his face.  Indeed, it seemed to Marwood that she hung on
every word.  Words, Marwood acknowledged bitterly, he would have given
dearly to have heard.

But then, what did it matter?  What did he need to hear that his eyes
had not already told him?  He clearly had not misunderstood the letter
he had read.  earlier.  This, evidently, was.  the unknown Edward come
home at last.

Abruptly, Marwood turned on his heel.  Grit-ting his teeth, he strode
back through the silent house with a countenance as dark as a
thundercloud.  He encountered no onemwhich was probably just as
well--and returned to the street where his coachman waited.

"Home, Evans"" Marwood barked with un-characteristic sharpness.  "And
don't waste any time about it!"  He sprang into the cab and slammed the
door shut behind him.  Moments later, the horses set off at a brisk
trot.

So, it was all true, Marwood reflected as he slumped back against the
velvet cushions.  Charlotte was involved with another man.  More than
that, she was in love with another man.  He knew her too well to doubt
what' his own eyes had seen.  Nor could he doubt the veracity of the
letter he had stumbled upon.

There would be no wedding now.  Charlotte would likely request a
meeting, at which time she would make some feeble excuse about having
made a mistake and then break off their betrothal.  She would return
his ring and wish him the best for his future.  And Marwood, gentleman
that he was, would turn, hat--and heart wing hand, and walk away.

"Like hell," Marwood swore softly.  Charlotte might have played him for
a gudgeon until now, but he was not going to allow her to continue.

The sooner this mockery of an engagement was brought to an end, the
better it would be for all concerned!

BLISSFULLY UNAWARE of her fiance's arrival and hasty departure,
Charlotte studied her brother's tired face, with eyes that saw only
that he was home.

"I can hardly believe that you are sitting here with me after all this
time, Teddy," Charlotte whispered softly, as if by speaking too loud
she might cause him to vanish into the mists again.

"I was so afraid that I would never see you again."

"Now, Lotte, did you really think that I would leave you to fend for
yourself?."  Edward strove to keep his voice light.  "What kind of
brother would I have been to do that?"

Charlotte chuckled softly.  "A perfectly normal one, I. should think. I
remember you saying once or twice when we were young that you wished I
had been a boy rather than a girl."

Edward laughed and gave Charlotte an affectionate wink.  "You never
really believed that, did you?"

"I did at times," Charlotte retorted, her lips twitching.  "Upon
occasion, you could be very convincing.  Especially when you were with
your friends."

"Yes, well, I had to act the part in front of the other chaps, Lotte,"
Edward sallied.  "Couldn't let them think that I was actually fond of
my little sister, now could I?  Not at all the thing."

Charlotte studied the face in front of her.  It was still a handsome
face, she reflected, with those startling blue eyes set above a firm
jaw and a mobile, expressive mouth.  His thick hair, a shade darker
than Charlotte's, had long since grown out of any fashionable style and
now fell in heavy waves around his face.  Strangely enough, it only
added to his attractiveness.

Charlotte smiled as she recalled the manner in which her friends had
blushed and giggled whenever Edward was near.  Especially Laura.  Even
as a girl, Laura had been painfully conscious of Charlotte's handsome
older brother.

But there were lines around Edward's eyes and mouth that had not been
there before, Charlotte noted sadly.  Lines etched by grief and events
which brought age to a man's face and a heaviness to his heart.

"Was it very bad for you these past three years?"  Charlotte asked
tentatively.

Edward glanced into his sister's trusting face and knew there was
nothing he could say.  She was so innocent.  How could he tell her of
the horrible things he had seen?  How could he x-pect her to understand
the violence that was war, the senseless killing and the wanton
destruction that went along with it.  How could he make her understand,
when he barely understood it himself?

"It wasn't as bad for me as it was for some of the others, Lotte,"
Edward replied evasively.  "I, at least, am here.  Alive, and with all
my limbs intact.  There are many others who did not fare so well, I
fear."

Charlotte bit her lip.  She had heard stories of the war but she had
tried not to listen to them.  How could she, when she knew her own
brother was out there fighting?

"How did you get out?"  she asked softly.  Again, Edward's reply was
purposely vague.  "With the help of friends.  After I got word to Paris
telling them that I intended to make a dash for it, I learned of a
family in the French countryside rumoured to be sympathetic to the
English cause.  I took a chance, and sheltered with them for a few
weeks.  I was lucky.  Very lucky, in fact.  They could just as easily
have turned me in."

Charlotte shuddered at the thought.  "But they did not, and now you are
safely home."  She glanced up at her brother with troubled blue eyes.
"You're not going ... away again, are you, Teddy?"

Edward shook his head and managed a conVincing smile.  At least in
this, he could be honest with her.  "No, Lotte, I'm not going away
again.  At least, not to France.  Bonaparte spent a great deal of time
looking for me.  He will not be at all pleased when he learns that I
have escaped."

Charlotte gazed at her brother in surprise.  "How will he know that you
have?"

Edward made a sound that could have been a laugh, or a sigh.  "He'll
know, Lotte.  By this time next week, he will certainly know."

Charlotte nodded, and wisely refrained from asking more questions.  She
knew that Edward was not going to tell her anything about the past
three years, and perhaps it was just as well.  She didn't want to know
how close she had come to losing him.  She did not want to hear about
the hardships he had endured, or about the awful things he had seen.
All that mattered to her was that he was home, and that he cOUld return
to the life of a gentleman about Town.  And she could think of no
better place to start than with Devon.  "Edward," she said shyly, "I
have some news for you."

"Oh?"  He heard the happiness in her voice and glanced at her shrewdly.
"Good news, I take it?"

"The very best."  Charlotte proudly held out her hand upon which
sparkled the beautiful emerald-and-diamond ring.  "I am betrothed."

"I say, Lotte, that's quite an eyeful," Edward replied, suitfib!y
impressed.  "A Wealthy gentleman, is he?"

"I would not care if he were a pauper, but yes, I suppose he is rather
wealthy.  I am engaged to the Earl of Marwood."

"Marwood?  The name is familiar," Edward said quietly.

"I believe he was still the Viscount Rawley when you left.  He
succeeded to the title when his father died, just over three years ago.
I am not surprised that you would know of him though, He is but a few
years older than you."

Edward hesitated, abruptly changing his mind about what he had been
about to say.  He knew why the man's name had Sounded so familiar to
him.  Just as he knew that it had nothing to do with the similarity in
their ages.

"Yes, no doubt we encountered one another at some Society function or
other," Edward replied in an offhand manner.  "And when is the happy
event to take place?"

"We have not actually set the date yet," Charlotte confessed, recalling
her fiance's abrupt departure.  "We were to have done so this morning,
but Devon left rather unexpectedly."

"Well, when he Calls again I should be delighted to make his
acquaintance."

Charlotte blushed and nibbled at her bottom lip.  "Yes, well, I am sure
that will be a most interesting meeting, considering that Devon is not
even aware you exist."

Edward glanced at her in astonishment.  "I beg your pardon?

Charlotte sighed.  She had known this was going to be awkward.  "I've
never told Lord Mar-wood that I had a brother.  You see, sometime after
you went away, Lord Osborne came to see me."

Edward's smile faded.  "Osborne came here?  What the devil for?"

"To advise me in the strictest confidence that you were working for
him.  And to tell me that it might be better for all concerned if I did
not talk too freely about you.  Especially to strangers."

"Yes, !  suppose I can understand that," Edward conceded grudgingly.
"Given the nature of what I was doing, Osborne was probably concerned
for your welfare.  But it must have put you in a rather awkward
position."."

"It did for a while, especially with Devon," Charlotte admitted.  "I so
desperately wanted to tell him about you, Teddy, but I couldn't.  I was
afraid to.  You see, Lord Osborne said that I should trust no one until
he received word that you were safe, and as I had only just met Lord
Marwood at the time, well, I really didn't know what to do, so I did
nothing.  I followed Lord Osborne's advice, and just kept hoping that
you would come back.  Then when I received your letter telling me that
you were coming home, but that I was still to tell no one...:'

Edward sighed.  "My poor Charlotte.  I never expected my work would
have this kind of effect on your life.  Indeed, I saw no reason why it
should have any effect, and I am so sorry that it has.  You know that I
would never knowingly have put you at risk, don't you?"

Charlotte smiled up into her brother's worried face.  "Of course I dO,
silly.  After all, you had no way of knowing what was going on here in
your absence.  And I never did come to any harm.  But I fear you are
right when you said it made things a little bit difficult.  However,
all that is behind us now," Charlotte said happily.  "Now, I shall be
able to tell anyone I want that you are home, and the first person I
intend to tell is Devon.  In fact, I shall send a note round asking him
to call.  I shall tell him I have a surprise."

"Quite a surprise," Edward said with a chuckle.

"Yes, indeed.  But at the moment," Charlotte continued, "I think you
had best go up and see Aunt Kittie."

Edward grinned almost boyishly.  "Do you think she will have stopped
crying yet?  I saw her ruin three handkerchiefs before she even went
upstairs."

Charlotte laughed and gently squeezed his ann.  "I am sure she has. She
has missed you too, Teddy."

"Dear Aunt Kittie."  Edward gave his sister a sidelong glance.  "Does
she still make those noxious remedies of hers?"

"More.  than ever.  In fact, she has gained quite a reputation with the
ladies of the ton for those noxious remedies, as you call them.  Poor
Mrs.  Bramble has quite given up trying to oust Aunt Kittie from the
kitchen when she's making up one of her famous elixirs."

Edward chuckled.  "Bless her, she always was an Original.  I'm looking
forward to talking to her again.  And to that end," Edward said,
rising, "I suppose I had best make myself a touch more presentable.  I
wouldn't want her to think that an unkempt young gentleman had returned
to take up residence in the house."

Charlotte rose with him.  "She would never think such a thing.  She has
been longing for your return almost as much as I have."

Edward glanced round the familiar garden.  A nerve jumped in his cheek.
"It is good to be home, Lotte."

Charlott heard the.  rough emotion in his voice and reached up to kiss
his cheek.  "It is good to have you home:"

Edward tucked her arm into his as they headed back up to the house. 
"By the by, Lotte, I have neglected to tell you what a fetching little
thing you have become over the past three years.

I shall be rather proud to be seen walking such a lovely young lady up
the aisle."

Charlotte squeezed his arm happily.  "No prouder than I shall be to
walk up it with you, Edward.  I still cannot believe that you are
actually home.  I shall write in my diary that this is one of the
happiest days of my life.  Oh, I truly am in a ridge to tell Devon the
news!"

To CARt,oTrE's SUR'IS% Devon did not call round to see her that
evening, nor did he stop in the following morning.  She had risen
early, fully expecting him to be at the house by ten, but when he still
had not arrived by the time the clOCk in the hall chimed eleven,
Charlotte began to wonder whether her letter had somehow gone astray.

"Are you sure you cannot wait any longer, Teddy?"  Charlotte implored,
seeing that her brother was dressed and ready to be off.  "I am sure
that Devon will be here any moment."

Edward, who was already looking better for having enjoyed a good
night's sleep, regretfully shook his head.  "Sorry, Lotte.  I have to
see Lord Osborne, and he is not a man who likes to be kept waiting."

Charlotte sighed.  "No, I suppose he isn't, but I had so hoped you and
Devon might have met before you went out.  Oh, bother, I cannot think
why he has not called.  I did send a note round asking him to."

"I really wouldn't worry about it, Lotte, I'm sure we will meet up soon
enough.  Where are you off to this morning?"

Charlotte brightened.  "Laura Beaufort and I are going to Madame
Montpellier's in Oxford Street.  There are two lovely bonnets in the
window which I have been trying to make up my mind about and Laura has
agreed to come along and give me her opinion."

Edward's mouth twitched.  "Little Laura Beaufort looking at bonnets? My
word, how things have changed.  I remember her being a rather gangly
girl, all arms and legs."

"Gangly?"  Charlotte's eyes sparkled.  "You may indeed be surprised at
just how much things have changed, brother dear."

"Yes, no doubt I shall," Edward acknowledged drily.  "Are you at home
this evening?"

"No."  Charlotte made a moue of disappointment.  "De:von and I have
been invited to Lady Stanh pc's.  One of her' musicales I'm afraid, and
I did tell her we would attend."  Pausing, Charlotte glanced up at her
brother with a sudden look of hope.  "But why don't you come with us,
Teddy?  I am sure Lady Stanhope would be delighted.  And given the
number of people that will be there, one more surely won't make any
difference.  Oh, do say you will come."

Edward shook his head gently.  "Thank you, Lotte, but I don't think I
am ready to face the rig ours of a large gathering just yet.  I should
like a little time to acclimatize myself before venturing out into
Society again.  Besides, if you are going to be out, I shall make my
own plans for dinner.  There are one or two people I should like to
see---on a more intimate level than would be provided by Lady
Stanhope's musicale," Edward said quickly, seeing his sister about to
in-tempt again.

"Yes, well, Lady Stanhope's gatherings can tend to become rather
crowded," Charlotte admitted, swallowing her disappointment.  "Will you
be late?"

"I may."

"Hmm.  Well, I suppose there won't be much point in asking Devon to
wait, either."

Seeing Charlotte's consternation, Edward flashed her a grin.  "You
really are anxious that I meet this sterling gentleman of yours, aren't
you, popper?"

"But of course."  Charlotte looked up at him in surprise.  "He is the
most wonderful man I have ever met, and I can hardly wait for the two
of you to become acquainted."

"Yes, I can see that.  Well, I am sure we shall meet in the not too
distant future.  Right now, however, I must be off."  He pressed an
affectionate kiss against her cheek.  "Have a good time this
afternoon."

Charlotte smiled and watched her brother depart.  She still found it
hard to believe that he was actually home.  Edward had been gone so
long that she had to keep pinching herself to make sure she wasn't
dreaming.

Moments later, she' was distracted by the sound of an anxious knocking
on the front door.  "I imagine that will be Miss Beaufort," Charlotte
said, 'heading into the parlour for her bonnet as Dickens came forward
to open the door.

It was indeed Laura who stepped into the hall, looking quite the thing
in a deep blue pelisse over a pretty new gown of blue-and-white muslin.
A pair of sparkling blue eyes and a scattering of golden curls peeked
out' from under the brim of the matching bonnet.

"Charlotte?  Charlotte, where--oh, there you are," Laura said as
Charlotte emerged from the parlour, bonnet in hand.  "Is it true, or
are my eyes playing tricks on me?"

"Laura, what on earth is the matter?"  Charlotte hurried forward.  "You
look as though you have seen a ghost."

"Perhaps I have, you tell me!"  Laura said quickly.  "Did I or did I
not just see your brother driving away in a hackney?"

"Oh, thank heavens!  I thought it was something quite dreadful,"
Charlotte breathed in relief.  "Yes, that was indeed Edward.  He came
home yesterday afternoon."

"Oh, my dear Charlotte, how wonderful!"  Laura exclaimed.  "You must be
so happy."

Charlotte's eyes glowed with contentment.  "I am, Laura.  In fact, for
the first time in three years, I am blissfully happy.  Edward is safely
home, I am betrothed to a wonderful man and I am soon to be married.
What more could I ask?"  Charlotte turned towards the looking-glass.
"All that remains for me to do is tell Devon the good news.  I do wish
he would get here.  I have been waiting to see him all morning."

Laura glanced at her in surprise.  "You have?  How odd.  I just passed
him on my way here.  I thought perhaps he was coming back from having
seen you."

Charlotte's hands halted in mid-air, the bonnet poised a few inches
above her freshly styled tresses.  "You saw Devon?"

"Not more than ten minutes ago."

"And he was driving ... away from here?"

"Yes, he looked to be heading in the direction of Mount Street."

"Really?"  Charlotte paused thoughtfully.  "How very strange."

Laura glanced at her friend anxiously.  "Charlotte, you've not had a
tiff with Lord Marwood, have you?"

"A tiff?  Of course not."  Charlotte laughed and lowered her bonnet "I
can hardly have had a tiff with a gentleman I haven't even seen.  But I
am surprised he has not called round.  I sent him a'letter last evening
asking him to."

"Really?  Well, I'm sure there is a perfectly good reason why he
hasn't," Laura replied, her perpetually optimistic outlook returning.
"Everyone knows how madly in love he is with you.  Sally Chatsworth and
Marianne Bradbourne were positively pea green with envy.  I quite
enjoyed watching them at Lady Teasdale's yesterday afternoon, trying to
pretend that you hadn't made the most brilliant match of the Season."

Charlotte heard only a fraction of what Laura said, her mind lingering
on her earlier remarks.  DevOn had been no more than ten minutes from
the housed yet he had not called round?  Why?.

Well, there was no point in worrying about it, Charlotte decided,
resolutely pulling on her gloves.  No doubt there was a satisfactory
explanation for all this, and one which Devon would easily explain. She
refused to allow anything to dampen her happiness today.

A short time later, the ladies were comfortably settled in the
pink-and-white chairs at Madame Montpellier's establishment, where
Charlotte was trying to decide between the two bonnets madame had
removed from the window.  One had a wide brim trimmed with pale pink
silk roses and a flowin pink ribbon, while the other sported a rather
dashing feather which curled over the top and fastened to the bonnet
with a pearl buckle,

"Laura?  Which bonnet do you prefer?"  Charlotte asked, turning her
head this way and that to afford a better view of the silk roses.

Unfortunately, Laura, who had come along with the express purpose of
providing an opinion on the matter now seemed more interested in
talking about Edward than she did about hats.  "Did your brother say
where he has been all this time, or why he was not able to write?"

Charlotte replaced the flowered bonnet with the feathered one.
"Actually he's told me almost nothing about the past three years, and
to be quite honest, I don't expect that he will.  From what I can
gather, Edward would be just as happy to forget all about the war."

Laura wrinkled her nose.  "Freddie Harrington won't even talk about it
in mixed company.  He says it is not fit talk for ladies."  She picked
up the two Kashmiri shawls she had been studying and glanced across at
Charlotte shyly.  "Is he well?"

Charlotte blinked.  "Who?  Freddie Harrington?"

"No silly, your brother.  I really did not see very much of him as he
was driving away.  How does he ... appear to you?"

Charlotte stared into the looking-glass, seeing not her own reflection
but an image of her brother's face as she had seen it yesterday.
"Tired," she said quietly.  "And certainly much thinner than I
remember, though he seems to be fine otherwise.  In fact, he looked
much better this morning for having enjoyed a good night's sleep."
Charlotte purposely did not mention the grey ness of Edward's
complexion, or the alarming way his bones seemed to protrude from
beneath his shirt.

Laura nodded.  "Yes, well, I am glad to hear that.  From what little I
did see of him, I thought he looked remarkably well.  But then, he was
always handsome."

Charlotle risked a quick glance at her friend, her lips twitching.
"Why, Laura Beaufort, I do.  believe you are harbouring a tend re for
my brother."

Laura's cheeks blushed a deeper pink than the material on.  the chair
cushions.  "I am not!"  she replied defensively.  "I was merely
expressing an

 82

opinion.  May a lady not express an opinion on a gentleman of her
acquaintance?"

"She certainly may," a masculine voice' observed from behind them,
"especially when the opinion is such a flattering one."

CHAPTER FIVE

CHARLOTFE SPUN ROUND, her eyes widening in surprise.  "Teddy!  What in
the world are you doing here?  I thought you had gone to see Lord
Osborne."

Edward smiled down at his.  sister in amusement.  "I did, but as it
turns out, I just missed him.  He was unexpectedly called away."

"Well, how fortunate for uS," CharlOtte replied with a laugh: "Edward,
you remember my good friend Miss Laura Beaufort?"

Edward turned towards the pretty young lady next to his sister, and
raised one dark eyebrow in surprise.  "Indeed, I do, though I am not
sure I would have recognized her without your help.  You do not bear
much resemblance to the girl I remember, Miss Beaufort."

Laura blushed prettily and demurely lowered her eyes.  "Why, thank you,
Mr.  Kingsley.  And may I say what a pleasure it is to see you safely
home again after all this time.  Charlotte has been quite beside
herself waiting for news of you."

Edward bowed in acknowledgement of the softly spoken sentiments and
continued to watch Laura, finding her unexpected loveliness
captivating.  "I say, that's a fine piece of work," he remarked,
noticing the two shawls she was still holding.  He gently took the
white shawl embroidered with blue trim from her.  "And how well this
one looks with the gown you have on.  Better, I think, than the
other."

Laura glanced up at Edward shyly.  "I was just about to ask your sister
for her opinion when you arrived, Mr.  Kingsley.  I am quite hopeless
when it comes to making decisions on matters such as these."

"I can well understand why," Edward replied gallantly, "since no doubt
everything you put on becomes you so well."

Laura opened her mouth and then closed it again, suddenly rendered
incapable of speech.  Charlotte turned to regard her brother, a light
of mischief dancing in her eyes.  She had never heard Edward speak so
eloquently to a young lady before, and certainly not to Laura.

But then, Laura had been too young to attract Edward's attention three
years ago, Charlotte admitted.  Laura had not even made her come-out
before Edward had left for France, and she had certainly changed a
great deal since then.  She was no longer the gangly girl he
remembered.  Her figure had acquired graceful curves, and the
childishly pretty face had matured so that it was now alluring in the
extreme. That combined with a head of golden curls and the enviable
perfection of a peaches-and-cream complexion were guaranteed to make
any man look twice.

Yes, glancing at the two of them, Charlotte could not help but notice
what a very attractive couple they made--he so dark, she so fair.  They
both looked so happy standing there, smiling at each other.  It was
also clear that neither of them knew what to say.

"Well, now that the matter of which shawl to buy has been decided,"
Charlotte interrupted, "could someone please tell me which bonnet I
should purchase, since that was our reason for coming here in the first
place?"

Edward started and glanced at his sister sheepishly.  "Sorry, Lotte."
He reluctantly turned away.  from Laura.  "Personally, I think the
feather is much more elegant."

Charlotte regarded her reflection doubtfully.  "Laura?"  :

Laura, who was still blushing from Edward's unexpected attention, not
surprisingly echoed his sentiments.  "Oh, yes, Charlotte, the flowers
are very pretty, but the feather does look--" she smiled shyly at
Edward "--much more elegant on you."

Madame Montpellier bustled forward.  "Has mademoiselle decided yet?"

Trying to hide her amusement, Charlotte removed the feathered bonnet
from her head.  "Yes.  I shall take them both, madame.  While the
feather seems to be carrying the weight of opinion, I do find myself
rather drawn to the flowers."

The sharp-eyed little Frenchwoman nodded and happily took both bonnets.
"Merci, mademoiselle, and may I say I think you 'ave made a wise
decision.  I myself would 'ave 'ad difficulty choosing between ze two.
I shall 'ave zem boxed for you."

As the cheerful woman' hurried away, Charlotte put on her own bonnet
and fastened the ribbons.  In the midst of doing so, a marvelous idea
suddenly occurred to her.

"Edward," she said, pulling on her soft, kid-leather gloves, "I wonder
if you would mind driving Laura home?  I have just remembered an errand
which I must attend to this afternoon, and Laura did tell me that she
was expected home by three."

Laura glanced at Charlotte in wide-eyed astonishment.  "Charlotte, I
never re

"Yes, Laura, remember what you said to me just before we set off?."
Charlotte interrupted blithely.  "You said that your mother was
expecting you home early because your great-aunt Gertrude was coming to
call.  Is that not what she said?"

Charlotte arched one delicately shaped eyebrow and waited for Laura to
catch on.  Unfortunately, Laura, who could be hopelessly naive at
times, was still trying to fathom the reason behind this sudden change
in plans when Edward tactfully cleared his throat.  "It would give me
great pleasure to drive you home, Miss Beaufort, if that is amenable to
you."

"There, you see, Laura," Charlotte spoke up brightly, "I told you
Edward would not mind.  After all, I should hate to see you made late
on my account."

Edward glanced at his sister slyly.  "Yes, I'm sure you would."

Laura hesitated and glanced at Edward uncertainly, aware that Charlotte
was behaving in a most peculiar fashion.  She had no idea what
Charlotte was talking about.  Was she trying to tell her, in some
obscure way, that she wanted time alone to meet Lord Marwood?

"Oh!  Oh, I see, Charlotte.  Yes, of course, how silly of me not to
remember," Laura said, avoiding Edward's gaze.  "I do recall having
told you that my great-aunt Greta--"

"Gertrude."

Laura blushed.  "Gertrude was ... coming to call at... ?"

"Three o'clock," Charlotte reminded her patiently.

"Yes.  Three o'clock."

By now, Laura was totally flustered.  Her cheeks were painfully
flushed, and she made a great show of folding up the two shawls and
putting them both back on the table.  CharlOtte looked at her in
surprise.  "Are you not going to take either shawl?"

Laura quickly shook her head.  "No, really, it is quite all right.  If
you are eager to be gone, I would not want to delay you any longer. Nor
do I wish to detain Mr.  Kingsley if he is to drive me home."  She
glanced at Edward shyly.  "Are you quite sure it is not inconveniencing
you, sir?"

"Not in the least," Edward reassured her, hiding his enjoyment of the
situation.  "I have no plans for the next little while.  In fact,
perhaps you might like to drive around the Park before returning home.
I am quite sure that your great-aunt...?"  He cast an amused glance
towards his sister.

"Gertrude," Charlotte supplied helpfully.  "Yes, your great-aunt
Gertrude would not mind if you were little late in arriving, would she,
Miss Beaufort?"

"Well, no, I am sure she would not," said poor Laura, quite out of her
depth.

Charlotte was delighted by the outcome of her scheme.  "What a splendid
idea, Teddy.  How good of you to suggest it."

"Yes, I thought you might think so.  Are you sure you would not like to
join us?"  he enquired politely.

"Heavens, no, you and Laura go on.  I really must attend to this other
matter- as soon as possible," Charlotte fibbed cheerfully.  "Have a
lovely drive.  I shall be fine.  Brooks can escort me anywhere I need
to go," she assured her brother.

The laughter in Charlotte's bright blue eyes told Edward all he needed
to know.  Laura had been a victim of the plot, rather than an
accomplice to it.  Not in the least regretful for his sister's
meddling, however, he took care to hide his amusement.  "Right, then I
shall see you at home later.  You will be home soon, I take it?"

"Oh, yes, right after I finish my errand," replied Charlotte sweetly.
Edward nodded, and after having .a quick word with Madame Mont-pellier,
offered Laura his arm.

After the two of them had left, Charlotte turned back towards the
mirror and smiled, well pleased with her mac!inations.  How charming
they looked together, and how sweetly they had gazed into each other's
eyes.  Exactly the way she and Devon had looked at each other when they
had first' started courting.

Charlotte paused, suddenly remembering the early, heady days of her
courtship by Lord Mar-wood.  It had taken little more than a glance
from those deep, dark eyes of his to set her pulses racing.  And when
he had complimented her on how pretty she looked in a particular gown,
she melted.  Why should she not encourage' Laura and her brother to
feel that kind of happiness together?

After settling her business with Madame Montpellier, Charlotte rose and
made her way outside to where Brooks waited with the carriage.

"Home, Miss Kingsley?"  the young man enquired.

"No, take me to Hatchard's, if you please, Brooks," Charlotte said,
aware of the need to pass some time.  "I am of a mind to browse for a
bit."

The young man nodded and set the pair of high-stepping blacks off in
the direction of the popular bookshop.  Not surprisingly, it was well
attended this afternoon, and Charlotte encountered a number of
acquaintances eager to talk about her upcoming nuptials.  Being a
subject close to her heart, she was only too pleased to respond.  Once
the pleasantries had been observed, however, Charlotte moved farther
into the library, perusing the well-stocked shelves for some light
reading material.  She was so caught up in her study of the titles that
it was a few minutes before she noticed Lord Marwood was standing at
the end of the row watching her.

Her spirits lifted immeasurably.  "Devon!"  she exclaimed, rushing
forward to greet him.  "Where in the world have you been?  I have been
expecting you to come by the house."

"Have you, indeed?"  Marwood greeted her quietly.

Charlotte completely missed the note of reserve in his voice.  "Yes, of
course.  I've been in a positive ridge.  I have so much to tell you.
But before I begin, would you mind telling me what happened to you
yesterday morning?  Why did you leave the house so abruptly?"

"I apologize for that," Marwood replied briefly.  "I suddenly recalled
a matter which required my attention.  I did not think you would be
unduly concerned at my absence."

This time, Charlotte could not fail to miss the stiffness in his tone
and hesitated, momentarily nonplussed by his polite but decidedly cool
response.  "I see.  And why have you not been round to see me this
morning?  Did you not receive my note?"

"I received your note."  Marwood's words were clipped.  "I simply did
not wish to respond to it."

"Not wish to respond?  But--"

"I think that it would be better if we were to continue this outside,"
Marwood interrupted her, aware that a few people had turned in their
direction and looked ready to approach.  "I hardly think the middle of
a crowded shop the appropriate place to discuss matters of a personal
nature."

Charlotte glanced up at him in bewilderment.  "Devon, what are you
talking about?  What personal matters do you wish to discuss?  Has this
something to do with the wedding?"

"Yes, you might say that," Marwood replied cryptically.

"Oh, good," Charlotte said in relief, "because I have something to tell
you, too.  Why don't you come back to the house with me and we can talk
at leisure."

Marwood flinched at the happiness in her voice.  "Perhaps it would be
better if we took a drive," he suggested quietly.  "I will not detain
you long."

Charlotte glanced up at her fiance and bit her lip.  Something was very
wrong.  She hardly recognized the man who stood before her.  The eyes
which looked down at her were so cold that they could have belonged to
a stranger.

"Very well, Devon," Charlotte replied meekly  "If that is your wish."

"It is."

Charlotte turned and.  preceded Devon through the library, willing her
smile to remain on her lips.  Behind her, Devon nodded politely but
discouragingly to the people they passed.  Once outside, however,
Charlotte's smile faded.  Mar-wood helped her into his carriage and
then climbed in beside her, curtly directing his driver to take them to
the Park.  She noticed that he signalled Brooks to follow behind.

"Brooks is quite capable of finding his own way home, my lord,"
Charlotte said in an attempt at humour.

There was no amusement in Marwood's polite response.  "I think it might
be better if he followed."

They spoke not a word on the short drive to the Park.  Charlotte,
uncertain and confused by the anger she saw in Devon's eyes, refrained
from speaking, She had never seen him in such a mood, and the intensity
of it unnerved her.  Once they had reached the Park, and had strolled a
short distance from the carriages, Charlotte broke her silence. "Devon,
what on earth is all this about?  Why are you treating me so coldly?"

"You surprise me, Miss Kingsley," Marwood replied with painful
formality.  "I thought you would have welcomed my distance."

"Welcomed it?  Have you sustained a blow to the head, Devon?  You do
not seem at all yourself today."

"I assure you, Miss Kingsley, that I am quite well."

"Are you?  Then why do you persist in calling me Miss Kingsley?  I am
Charlotte to you, and you are Devon to me.  We are betrothed, are we
not?"

Marwood Sighed and turned to face the woman who, in spite of her
falseness, still had the power to tear at his heart.  "Charlotte, let
us not mince words.  It is time we put an end to all this.  Perhaps it
is not happening exactly as you might have wished, but whether you tell
me here or in the par lout of your home, the end result is the same.  I
do not wish to be played for a fool any longer."

"A fool?"  Charlotte recoiled as though she had been struck.

"Yes, a fool," he replied tersely.  "A cat's paw, a cuckold call it
what you like."

"You will forgive me if I appear a little taken aback, my lord,"
Charlotte said quietly, "but truly, I have no idea of you are talking
about.  I have never played you for a fool, Devon.  I love you!"

"Love?"  Marwood spat out, unable to prevent the bitterness which crept
into his voice.  "Is this what you call love, Charlotte, for if it is,
it is indeed a very poor definition of the word.  I only hope you show
a better face of it to your other gentleman."

"My... other gentleman?  Devon, what are yotr talk--"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, madam.  I am talking about
Edward."  He stared down at her coldly.  "Unless there is another lover
in your life with whom I am not acquainted."

"Another... lover?"  Charlotte stared at him in growing horror.  "You
are referring to Edward ... as my lover?"

Marwood uttered a brief, harsh sound that could hardly be called a
laugh.  "I wonder if you are aware of the warmth in your voice when you
speak of him, madam.  Yes, I refer to Edward.  What else would you have
me call him?"

Charlotte did not answer, suddenly robbed of the ability for rational
speech.  She could not believe what Devon was accusing her of, any more
than she could believe that the eyes she looked up into now were
filled, not with love, but with a deep, unreasoning fury.

"Who told you about ... Edward?"  Charlotte whispered.

"No one told me, I saw him with my own eyes."  Marwood's tone was
brusque.  "I saw the two of you together."

Charlotte looked stunned.  "You did?  When?  Where?"

"In the garden at the house," Marwood replied in a flat, dead voice.
"The afternoon we were to have set the date for the wedding."

Charlotte felt her heart give a lurch.  "You came back2"

Marwood nodded grimly.  "I wanted to talk to you after leaving that
morning in what I feared was a rather precipitate manner."

"Yes, and so it was," Charlotte agreed readily enough.  "What made you
leave without even a word for me?"

"I found Edward's letter," Marwood informed her.  "And I felt angry and
betrayed when I learned that you were corresponding with a gentleman
behind my back,"

There was an ominous silence.  "You read my letter?"  A faint note of
reproach crept into Charlotte's voice.  "You took it upon yourself to
read my personal correspondence without so much as a by-your-leave?"

"I did not take it upon myself," Marwood snapped irritably.  "I was
simply admiring the escritoire when I happened to see the letter lying
on top of it.  You had not taken any trouble to cover it, and as you
are my fiancee, I saw no reason not to read something addressed to "my
dearest Charlotte," and signed, "my love as always, Edward.:'

"I see."  Charlotte's voice was deceptively, dreadfully hushed.  "So
you read my letter and did not bother to ask me about it.  You simply
assumed that you knew what it referred to."

"I came back in the afternoon to ascertain exactly what it was all
about," Marwood informed her stiffly.  "After I left that morning, it
occurred to me that !  might have made an error, and that the gentleman
with whom you were corresponding might, in fact, have been someone with
whom you were once close, but were close no longer.  I returned,
hoping: to hear you say that you no longer reciprocated his affection.
But when I walked into the garden and saw the two of you together, it
did not take long to realize that your fondness for each other was
still very much alive.""

"I see," Charlotte replied coldly, aware that her feelings of shock and
dismay were rapidly giving way to those of anger.  "So you read my
letter and then spied on me in the garden, without making me aware of
either incident.  How gallant of you, sir."  Charlotte's eyes
flashed.

"Tell me, Lord Marwood, what do you intend to do next, now that my--"
she caught herself quickly re Edward is back?"

Marwood drew himself up.  "There is nothing for me to do.  I assume
that you would like to break off our betrothal as quickly and with as
little fuss as possible.  Was that not the reason for the letter you
sent round, asking me to call?"  Marwood enquired mockingly.  "Did you
not wish to tell me to my face that our engagement is at an end?  Was
that not to have been my surprise?"

Charlotte turned her back on him, unwilling to let him see the extent
to which he had wounded her.  She could not believe that Devon thought
her capable of this.  She was hurt more deeply than she ever thought
possible, devastated to learn that the only man she had ever loved had
condemned her without even asking to hear the truth from her own lips.
How little he knew her that he could believe her capable of such
deceit!

Turning back to face him, Charlotte slowly pulled the engagement ring
from her finger and held it out, her face set, her eyes dry.  She was
too numb to cry.  "I expect you will want this back, my lord, since it
appears that in your eyes, I no longer deserve to wear it."

Marwood took the ring, aware that Charlotte's face had gone deathly
pale.  "Have you nothing to say for yourself, Charlotte?  Will you not
tell me that I am wrong?"

Her eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond his shoulder, Charlotte
shook her head.  "No, Lord Marwood, I will not tell you that you are
wrong.  Because whatever the truth of the matter, it has little bearing
now.  The damage is done.  You have judged me and found me wanting. 
You did not give me the opportunity to defend myself--"

"I am giving you that opportunity now, damn it!"  Marwood interrupted
harshly.  "If a mistake has been made, then tell me so that we may put
this whole unfortunate incident behind us.  Tell me that I am wrong,
Charlotte, and it shall all be forgotten."

"Forgotten?  No, I fear this will not soon be forgotten."  Charlotte
finally raised angry blue eyes to his.  "A mistake has been made, but
it is not one of my own making.  you have already found me guilty of
lying and now confront me with the details of my treachery.  You did
not come to me first and ask me to explain.  You brought me here to
tell me of your beliefs and to say that you now expect our betrothal to
be at an end.  Well, it is at an end; my lord.  Not because of what you
saw but because of what you believed me capable of.  And that, Lord
Marwood, is far more important to me than telling you the truth of the
matter now."

Charlotte lowered her gaze, the eyes which had momentarily blazed with
anger now clouded with pain.  "I thought you loved me, Devon."  "I do
love you, Charlotte!"

"No."  The word was low and laced with sorrow.  "If you truly loved me,
you would never have believed me capable of such deceit."

"Charlotte, what are you talking about?"  Marwood felt his own anger
rising in the face of her maddening perversity.  "I saw you in the arms
of another man.  I read his... his love letter to you.  What was I
supposed to believe?"

"You were supposed to believe that I loved you, Devon.  You!" Charlotte
flung back at him.

"Not some gentleman in the garden."  "Charlottem"

He reached out to touch her, but she quickly pulled away.  "No, don't
touch mere you have no right!  I trusted you, Devon, and I thought you
trusted me.  I was to have been your wife--" Her voice broke, but she
quickly collected herself.  "You may indeed consider our betrothal at
an end, Lord Marwood, and I hope it makes you happy."

"Charlotte, for God's sake--" Marwood began in total frustration.
"Charlotte!"

But there was nothing more he could say.

Charlotte turned and fled, running past his carriage and into her own.
She slammed the door and instructed Brooks to take her home
immediately, leaving Marwood to stand and stare as the carriage pulled
away.  He watched it until it disappeared from sight, and then glanced
down at the ring in his hand.

He had never felt more angry and frustrated in his life.

BY THE TIME Lord Longworth returned from his travels to the north of
England a few days later, Marwood had already departed for the
country.

That had come as something of a surprise to Longworth.  He had been
looking forward to seeing Marwood again and to hearing news of Miss
Kingsley's joyful reunion with her brother--the very man Longworth had
been sent to France to rescue.  To learn that the prospective
bridegroom had taken himself off to the country was curious, to say the
least.

To that end, Longworth drove his sporty high-perch phaeton towards the
second of his two intended destinations that afternoon and pulled up
shortly thereafter at the Kingsley residence in Green Street.  Edward
had given him the address before they had parted company at Dover, and
now that his mission was concluded, Longworth was eager to see how
Kingsley was settling back into his old life.

After paying a young lad a farthing to hold the horses, Nicholas
climbed the front steps and knocked on the door.

Charlotte, sitting with Aunt Kittie in the yellow salon, heard the
knock and stiffened, wondering, as she did every time Dickens greeted a
caller, whether it might be Lord Marwood come to see her.

Since their tempestuous meeting in the Park, she had heard nothing from
Devon.  She was not even sure that he was in Town, so complete was the
silence.  Rumour had it that he had left for his country house, though
no one seemed to be sure.

Not that it mattered, Charlotte assured herself.  She was still too
angry over the discovery of his inexcusable lack of trust to consider
forgiving him.  She was only thankful that she had found out the truth
of his suspicious nature before they were joined in matrimony rather
than after.

"Excuse me, Miss Kingsley," Dickens said, "but Lord Longworth has
called."

"Lord Longworth?"  Charlotte glanced at her aunt in surprise.  "But he
is one of Devon's friends.  I wonder why he would be calling to see
me?"

"Perhaps he has news of Lord Marwood,"

Aunt Kittie said hopefully, aware that a rift had sprung up between her
niece and the dashing earl, though not of the reason why.

Charlotte stiffened.  "If he has, I have no wish to hear it.  What Lord
Marwood does is of no concern to me, Aunt."

"Well, I should like to hear news of him," Aunt Kittie said, displaying
her usual determination.  "Show him in, Dickens, and be so good as to
bring refreshments.  No doubt the gentleman would enjoy a glass of my
special elderberry wine."

"Very good, Miss Harper."

In a moment, Lord Longworth appeared in the doorway.  Charlotte's aunt
graciously rose to greet him.  "Good afternoon, Lord Longworth, I am
Catherine Harper."

"Miss Harper, I hope I find you well?"  Nicholas said, bowing over the
lady's hand.

"Very well indeed, my lord.  May I introduce my niece, Miss Charlotte
Kingsley."

Longworth turned towards Charlotte, immediately understanding the
reason for Marwood's devotion towards her.  Apart from her obvious
loveliness, there was a quiet dignity and gentleness about Charlotte
Kingsley that any man would find appealing.  "Miss Kingsley, may I say
what a pleasure it is to finally meet you.  Lord Marwood has spoken of
you often."

Charlotte quickly lowered her lashes, masking the expression in her
eyes.  "It is kind of you to say so, Lord Longworth.  Won't you sit
down?"

"How is it we have not seen you before, Lord Longworth?"  Aunt Kittie
asked.  "I understand you are a great friend of the earl's."

Charlotte sighed.  Aunt Kittie was nothing if not direct.  Fortunately,
Lord Longworth seemed to take her aunt's quizzing in his stride.
"Indeed I am, Miss Harper, but I have been out of London a good deal
lately on business."  Longworth sat down in an elegant wing-backed
chair and smiled at Charlotte cordially.  "In fact, I am only just this
morning returned to London, or I would have come earlier to extend my
felicitations on your betrothal and forthcoming marriage."

An awkward silence descended upon the room.  Charlotte felt her cheeks
burn.  "I fear you are... misinformed, Lord Longworth," she replied
quietly.  "There is to be no marriage."

Longworth glanced at her in astonishment.  "But there must be some
mistake!  Before I left London, Lord Marwood gave me to understand--'
'

"Things have ... changed since you left London, my lord," Charlotte
interrupted.  "Lord Marwood and I are ... no longer betrothed."

Longworth heard the slight hesitation in her voice.  "No longer
betrothed?"  he repeated, his voice gently questioning.  When Charlotte
did not reply, Longworth risked a quick glance at Miss Harper and saw
her shake her head sadly.  He saw the regret in her eyes, and did not
delve any further.

"I see."  Longworth hesitated a fraction longer before offering the
apology he knew was due.  "Forgive me, Miss Kingsley, I did not mean to
cause you any embarrassment.  I hope you did not take offence at my
words."

"No apology is necessary, Lord Longworth, nor has offence been taken,"
Charlotte replied in a quietly composed voice.  "As you said, you have
been ... away.  You could not be expected to know."

"No, of course not."

Longworth studied the averted face of the woman in front of him, and
saw far more than just the composed front she showed to others.  He saw
a young woman who was desperately close to tears and trying very hard
not to show it.  And he began to wonder more than ever why his best
friend, supposedly head over heels in love with this Young woman, had
left Town without a word.

Charlotte, however, in an effort to be polite, forced a smile to her
lips.  "But come, Lord Longworth, it is a poor face we are showing you
on your return to London.  You say that you have been away.  Perhaps
you will regale us with tales of your adventures."

"I hardly think you would be interested in such things, Miss Kingsley,"
Longworth replied with a casually deceptive grimace.  "They were not at
all noteworthy."

"Indeed,.  Lotte," another masculine voice said unexpectedly from the
doorway.  "From what I hear, Lord Longworth's travels were about as
interesting as a month-long stay in Brighton."

Charlotte, who had been unaware of her brother's silent arrival, gave a
start and then laughed somewhat self-consciously.  "Edward, I swear you
move about more silently than a ghost!  I did not even hear you come
in."

Edward laughed and ruffled her dark curls affectionately.  "A little
trick I learned, Lotte.  Nothing to be concerned about, though it does
Come in handy upon occasion."

"Yes, I am sure it does," Charlotte agreed dubiously.  She glanced from
her brother to Lord Longworth with a questioning smile.  "And how is it
that you come to know where Lord Long-worth has been?  Am I to
understand that the two of you are already acquainted?"

"Happened we met at the club for lunch.  Isn't that right, Longworth?"
Edward said smoothly.  "Yes, indeed.  Chatted for well over an hour,"

came the equally smooth reply.  "And I fear your brother is quite
correct, Miss Kingsley," Long-worth admitted.  "My travels were
prosaic, at best, and certainly not worthy of discussion here.  In
fact, it was actually your brother I came to see."  He levelled a
meaningful glance at Edward.  "I managed to get appointments for us at
Gentleman Jackson's rooms.  I thought you might appreciate a little
exercise."

One of Edward's dark eyebrows lifted in silent understanding.  "Yes, I
would.  Very much," he replied softly.  "Good of you to take the
trouble."

"Not in the least," said Longworth, rising.  "And to that end, we had
best be on our Way."

Aunt Kittie glanced up in dismay.  "Oh, Edward, must you leave so soon?
Our guest has not even had time to sample my elderberry wine."  She
winked at the viscount mischievously.  "You really should try some,
Lord Longworth.  It was a particularly good crop of berries this
year."

Longworth smiled, but regretfully shook his head.  "Unfortunately, I
must decline your hospitality this time," Miss Harper."  He glanced
pointedly at Edward.  "I'm afraid we must be going."

It seemed to Charlotte that a great deal was being left unsaid, and she
began to wonder whether Lord Longworth might somehow be involved in
Edward's line of work.  As quickly as the thought came, however,
Charlotte dismissed it.  She was not at all sum that she even wanted to
know.  Accordingly, she rose and accompanied her brother and Lord
Longworth to the door.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord Long-worth," Charlotte said
quietly, then added, as Edward turned away to speak to Aunt Kittie,
"and allow me to apologize again for the... awkwardness you encountered
earlier."  Longworth did not miss Charlotte's quick glance towards her
brother and lifted an eyebrow in surprise.  Obviously, Edward Kingsley
was not yet aware that his sister's betrothal was at an end, and for
whatever reason, Charlotte wanted it kept that way.

He bowed eloquently, every inch the gentleman.  "There is no need to
apologize, Miss Kingsley.  It is I who spoke out of turn, and I who
crave your forgiveness."

Charlotte nodded.  "Thank you, my lord."  "I hope we shall see you
again, Lord Long-worth," Aunt Kittie said as he turned to leave.  "And
perhaps next time, you will stay longer," she added meaningfully.

Longworth's smile was unaffected.  "It would be my pleasure, Miss
Harper.  I admit to having a fondness for good elderberry wine."

Edward dropped a quick kiss on Charlotte's cheek before following
Longworth out.  "I may be late this evening, Lotte, so you needn't
bother waiting up.  I'll see you in the morning."

No, she wouldn't wait up, Charlotte thought, slowly returning to her
chair after her brother and Lord Longworth had departed.  The past few
nights she had gone to bed very early, not seeing any reason for
staying up.

She could not imagine that there would be any better reason for staying
up late tonight, either.

CHAPTER SIX

NOT SURPRISINGLY, like Charlotte, Marwood was finding his own nights
annoyingly restless.  His sleep, indeed his very dreams, were filled
with images of Charlotte's face.  A face which, more often than not,
was dampened by salty tears, and which gazed up at him with dark,
accusing eyes.

Marwood sighed and abruptly pulled his stallion to a halt at the crest
of the hill.  He had thought the country the best place for him to cool
his heels and to come to terms with the painful reality of his
situation with Charlotte.  He had hoped that it might have afforded him
some release from the turmoil that burned in his gut.

And' yet, as he gazed out over the gently rolling hills of his
Cotswolds estate, Marwood began to suspect that it was a futile
exercise at best.  Even here, where there was nothing to give a man
cause for aggravation, he could find no peace.  He could not forget the
woman who had become the single most important thing in his life.  And
worse, he could not forget the way Charlotte had looked at him.

She had been shocked by his accusation, Mar-wood realized now, staring
blindly at the endless green fields.  Stunned by his accusation that
she was involved with another man.  Contrary to what he had expected,
Charlotte had not seemed at all relieved by his willingness to let her
go.  She had appeared totally devastated by it.

But how could that be, he asked himself for the hundredth time.  He had
seen her with another man; hadn't he?  He had read the letter.  What
more did he need to convince himself that she was guilty?

Nothing.  He needed to hear nothing from Charlotte, nor did he expect
to.  There had been no communication between them since that day she
had run from him in the Park.

Well, so be it, Marwood decided grimly, turning the stallion back in
the direction of Marwood Hall, There was nothing he could do now but
head back to London and try to pick up the threads of his life.  There
were other women wishing to be the Countess of Marwood.  He would take
his pick of them.

But not now.  Maybe next year.  Or the year after that.  Or perhaps in
a hundred years when the memory of Charlotte's love had finally faded
into oblivion.

NOT MORE THAN tWO hours after Marwood's return to London, Lord
Longworth arrived.  "Afternoon, Dev," Longworth said as Robertson
showed him into the library.

"Longworth, you're back."  Marwood greeted his friend with as much
enthusiasm as he could muster.  "I hadn't expected to see you so soon.
Accomplish your mission?"

"I accomplished mine," Longworth replied.  "What the devil happened to
yours?"

Marwood methodically poured two glasses of brandy and handed one to his
friend.  "My mission?  I am not sure I follow you."

"Come on, Dev, you know what I'm talking about."  Longworth's voice
softened.  "I have been to see Miss Kingsley."

Marwood raised the glass to his lips, carefully observing his friend
over the rim.  "Have you?  And what did you find?"

"I found a lady who was very upset and trying hard not to show it.
Especially after I made a fool of myself by offering my felicitations
on your betrothal!"

Marwood sighed and tossed back the rest of his drink.  "Yes, my
betrothal.  The briefest one, no doubt, in history."

Longworth looked at him askance.  "So what happened?  I know you
proposed to her."

"Yes, I proposed to her."

"And?"  Longworth prompted.  "And she accepted."  "And?"

"And nothing.  She ... broke it off."

"She broke it off?."  Longworth said incredulously.  "You're telling me
that Miss Kingsley broke off your betrothal?"

"Yes.  Because if she hadn't, I would have," Marwood was stung into
replying.

"You would have--Devon, what the devil is going on?"  Longworth
demanded.  "You told me that you were in love with the woman.  What
happened to make you change your mind?"  "Nothing."

"Nothing?"  Longworth scoffed.  "Try again, Dev, I don't believe
you."

"Damn it, Nicholas, leave it alone!"  Mar-wood growled.  "This is none
of your affair."

"It bloody well is my affair," Longworth asserted.  "You're my best
friend, and I want to know why one minute you can't get enough of the
woman and the next you're trying to put as much distance between the
two of you as possible."

"I am not trying to put distance between us," Marwood replied bitterly.
"Charlotte simply doesn't need me anymore.  She has ... Edward," he
muttered darkly.

"Edward?"  The surprise in Longworth's voice was unmistakable.  "What
has Edward to do with this?"

Marwood nearly dropped his glass.  "You know Edward?"

"Know him?  I damn well should know him," Longworth replied flatly.  "I
just about got myself killed getting him out of France."

The silence was so long that it seemed to stretch into the next
century.  "Edward is ... the

Robin?"  Marwood asked incredulously.  "Yes, of course.  Didn't you
know?"

"How in blazes was I supposed to know?"  Marwood snapped.  "You have
only just told me."

"Damn it man, I know that, but I thought Edward would have told you
himself.  Or Charlotte, when you went to see them."

"Them?  You thought I would have gone to see them?"  Marwood's eyes
glinted like chips of black granite.  "Your sense of chivalry is
somewhat misplaced, Nicholas.  The next thing you'll be saying is that
I should have extended my' heartfelt congratulations on their
reunion."

"Well, yes, of course you should have."  Longworth glanced at his
friend in surprise.  "You mean you did not?"

Marwood's countenance darkened so forebod-ingly that even Longworth
flinched.  "No, obviously you did not," L ngworth muttered quickly.
"Though why you did not, I cannot imagine.  It isn't every day a girl's
brother returns from the wars a hero, especially a brother who has been
presimed dead for the past eight months."

Marwood stared at his friend in utter stupefaction.  "Her brother?
Charlotte's brother?  What the devil are you talking about, Long-worth?
Charlotte doesn't have a brother.  At least not one that she has ever
mentioned to me."

"No, very likely she did not mention him," Longworth agreed, "because
Osborne told her not to and because she had no reason to believe that
Edward was not already dead."

"Bloody hell"

The epithet, very eloquently though very softly spoken, contained more
raw anguish than Longworth had ever heard.  He glanced at his friend in
alarm.  "Didn't you know?"

Marwood shook his head.  "I had no idea.  I would hardly have accused
Charlotte of the things I did if I had."

"What exactly did you accuse her of?."  Long-worth enquired, almost
afraid to hear.

"Of being involved with another man behind my back."

"You mean you thought that Charlotte and Edward were--"

"In love?"  Marwood finished for him angrily.  "Yes, that's exactly
what I thought."

"Bloody hell!"  Longworth echoed as he began to grasp the full measure
of what had happened.  "But why didn't Charlotte tell you the truth
about Edward?  I can understand why she would not have told you before
his return, but once Edward was safely back in England, there would
have been no reason for her to have kept silent.  I thought she would
have been falling all over herself to tell you."

"She was, but I never gave her a chance."  Briefly, Marwood went on to
explain what had happened.  "Charlotte never even knew I saw them that
day in the garden," he finished wood-enty.

"And obviously, at some point along the way you told her what you
thought you had seen."

"In no uncertain terms," Marwood admitted, recalling all too clearly
the look on Charlotte's face when he had told her exactly what he had
thought of her.  Recalling the horror in her eyes--the look of
disbelief and betrayal when she had realized that he did not trust her.
"Not only that," Marwood continued bleakly, "but I told Charlotte that
if she did not end the mockery I thought our betrothal had become, I
would."

"You told her that?"  Longworth echoed in disbelief.

"That and a few other things."  Marwood drew a ragged breath and then
swore heartily.  "God, that I had the power to retract those bloody
words now."

"Yes, well, there's not much you can do about that, I'm afraid,"
Longworth muttered.  He raked his fingers through his own chestnut
brown curls.  "I wish I had known why Charlotte's name sounded so
familiar to me that first time you mentioned it.  I would have been
able to spare you all this.  Unfortunately, it wasn't until I met up
with Kingsley in France and we were crossing the Channel that he told
me who he really was.  That was when I realized why the name was
familiar."

Marwood glanced up.  "You knew Charlotte's brother?"

Longworth shook his head.  "I knew of him.  Kingsley was one of
Osborne's top men.  There wasn't anything the man could not do.  No
assignment was too dangerous, no code was too difficult to decipher:
He's cracked more codes that the rest of us put together."

"If he was so well respected, why didn't you recognize his name right
off?"  Marwood's tone was unintentionally sharp.  "And why had I not
heard of him?"

"I wondered about that myself, until I realized that Edward was already
working under cover by the time we appeared on the scene.  I might have
heard his name once in passing during my first few days--long enough to
stay in my mind, but not enough to remember where it came from.
Kingsley told me that shortly after he joined the department, Osborne
started giving him false identities.  It seems that he had become
something of a target for French espionage.  In order to protect him,
Osborne was obliged to keep changing his identity.  Kingsley never
travelled with the same alias twice.  Eventually, he began using the
code name Robin only."

"But how could a man like that be missing for eight months?"  Marwood
demanded.  "And why wasn't every man in the department out looking for
him?"

"Apparently a lot of men were, and most of them were killed in the
process," Longworth replied.  "Osborne knew the kind of information
Kingsley was carrying in his head.  When he vanished, the department
made every effort to get him back.  Unfortunately, the French got wind
of it and started their own search.  That's when things started to turn
nasty.  Osborne was forced to pull back when it began to look as though
Kingsley had gone into hiding.  He simply couldn't afford to lose any
more men.  So,

two months after Kingsley vanished, the gates slammed shut.  That's why
everything was so hushed up.  Osborne asked Charlotte not to mention
her brother's disappearance to people who knew of his existence, and to
say nothing about having a brother to people who did not.
Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing that you would eventually
become romantically involved with her."

"And Charlotte, not being aware of my own association with Osborne,
would have no reason to tell me' about her brOther's involvement,"
Marwood said quietly.  "Now it's all falling into place.  The letter,
the affection I saw between them, Charlotte's astonishment.  No wonder
she hates me."

Longworth observed the stricken face of his friend, and shook his head
sadly.  "She doesn't hate you, Devon, of that I am quite sure.
Remember, I was there.  I saw her."

"She may not hate me, but I'll wager she's not likely to forgive me,
either.  When i think what I said to her, Nicholas.  What I accused her
of--"

Marwood broke off, too distressed for words.  What an ignorant fool he
had.  been.  His own jealousy and lack of faith had cost him the most
precious thing in his life, and he had no way of knowing if he would
ever be able to get it back.

How did one go about regaining someone's trust, Marwood asked himself
bleakly.  How did one wipe out so grievous a wound as the one he had
dealt Charlotte?

"You could try telling her that you love her," Longworth said
quietly.

Marwood raised his head, unaware that he had uttered the question
aloud.  But even as he heard Longworth's answer, he shook his head.
"She would probably just throw it back in my face.  What good is a love
that doubts at the very first opportunity?  Hardly a love worth
salvaging," he said bitterly.

"Is that how you feel about it?"  Longworth asked quietly.

"Of course not!"  Marwood blazed.  "Charlotte is the most important
thing in my life.  She is my life."

"Then tell her that!"  Longworth urged.  "Make her see how much you
love her.  Grovel if you have to, but get her back."

Marwood nodded.  He knew that Longworth was right.  If it took the rest
of his life, he would fight to win back her love.

But having said that, how did he know that winning back Charlotte's
love automatically meant reestablishing the bond of trust that went
with it?  Could that be resurrected as easily?

"Nicholas," Marwood said, his eyes narrowing  "You've been in Town a
few days now.  What's the latest gossip circulating?"

"Nothing about you and Charlotte, if that's what you're asking,"
Longworth said.  "Though there have been some questions raised about
your sudden flight to the country.  It would seem, my friend, that you
are more conspicuous by your absence than by your presence."

Marwood grunted.  "Rumours regarding my whereabouts are the least of my
concern.  With your help, I can quickly dispatch those.  No, it's
Charlotte I am worded about.  Has news of our broken betrothal leaked
out?"

Longworth shook his head, "Not that I've heard.  My guess is that
Charlotte is keeping it to herself for the moment.  A lot has happened
to her in the past little while, Devon.  Her brother finally Coming
back, the fight between the two of you, No doubt she is feeling
overwhelmed by it all."  Long Worth suddenly remembered Charlotte's
parting remark the morning he had gone to see her.  "I don't think she
has even told Edward."

Marwood looked up, a glimmer of hope on his face.  "If she hasn't,
there may still be a chance.  If I can get to Charlotte and apologize
before word leaks out, I may be able to circumvent the whole thing
falling apart.  There would be questions enough if it did."

Marwood gave a harsh laugh.  "I still cannot believe it.  Edward
Kingsley--the Robin---Charlotte brother.  Thank goodness you told me
when you did."

"You would have found out soon enough," Longworth said in a
matter-of-fact voice.  "News of Kingsley's return is already spreading,
and people are hailing the man a hero."

"At least Charlotte can gain a measure of comfort from that," Marwood
commented ruefully.  "Nevertheless, I am glad I heard it from you,
rather than one of those insufferable Society matrons.  Can you imagine
the reaction if they were to learn that I was not aware of the identity
of the gentleman living in Charlotte's house?  By that time, it
certainly would have been too late to do anything.  But if what you say
is true, I may still have time, and knowing that, I intend to do
everything in my power to win back Charlotte's trust.  God help me, I
have to win it back!"

Two NIGHTS LATER, Marwood stood in front of the cheval glass and swore
as his normally adept fingers fought with the intricacies of his
cravat, causing his valet to sigh as yet another spoiled neck cloth was
hurled onto the floor.  But then, it was hardly surprising that Marwood
was in a temper.  He didn't like musicales, and he liked

Lady Roxton even less.  She was an inquisitive, interfering woman who
spent more time meddling in the affairs of others than she did in
attending to her own, and under any other circumstances, Marwood would
have gone out of his way to avoid her party.

But these were not any other circumstances, Mar Wood reminded himself
glumly.  He was all too aware of the risks involved in Charlotte's
attending Society functions on her own.  People would begin to ask
questions, and Charlotte would feel compelled to answer them with words
he would just as soon no one' heard.  He had to get to Charlotte and
straighten this out.  He had to beg her to forgive him.  Doing that far
outweighed the slight inconvenience of having to socialize with people
he did not particularly like.

Finally, when it seemed that no one short of Mr.  Brummell himself
would be able to effect a better knot, Marwood nodded his grudging
satisfaction.  'It will do, I suppose," he muttered, glancing at the
perfectly tied Mathematical with a critical eye.  "Do I look the part,
Jenkins?"

"Indeed, my lord.  Very much, if I may say

SO."

"Good.  I Would not want to disappoint Lady Roxton, would IT'

If the truth were known, Marwood did not care a fig whether he
disappointed his hostess.  All he cared about was Charlotte, and for
her he would put up with purgatory!

By the time Marwood arrived at Lady Rox-ton's house, the musicale was
already underl way.  He had purposely arrived late so as not to give
Charlotte time for flight.  He left his coat, gloves and hat with the
butler and then crossed the black-and-white tiled entrance hall to the
music room.  The doors to the room were closed, but beyond it, Marwood
could hear the tinkling of the harpsichord and a woman singing an old
English ballad.  He waited until he heard the sound of applause, and
Lady Roxton's announcement of the next performer, before pushing open
the doors and walking in.

Several heads turned at the sound of the late arrival, and several more
followed when they heard the gasps of the first.  Lord Marwood's sudden
removal from Town had met with g/eat speculation, but the fact that he
was back wand that his fiancee did' not seem to know, judging by the
quickly suppressed look of surprise on her face remade for the
possibility of some extremely diverting gossip.

Marwood ignored the whispers as he advanced into the room.  By now,
such things had ceased to trouble him.  He had not told anyone other
than Longworth that he planned to attend this evening for fear that
Charlotte herself might not attend.  Lady Roxton, who, for her own
part, had fully expected the elusive Lord Marwood to avoid yet another
of her assemblies, allowed a smile of pure triumph to curve her lips
and glanced round the room to ensure that everyone knew of her
success.

"Lord Marwood, how.  delightful to see you!"  she exclaimed, bearing
down on him like a battleship in full sail.  "I had feared that perhaps
you were going to deprive us of the pleasure of your company yet
again."

"Pray forgive my late arrival, Lady Roxton," Marwood murmured.  He
bowed over the lady's heavily ringed hand.  "I was unavoidably
detained."

Lady Roxton, amazed that he had arrived at all, waved away his
apologies with the most casual of gestures.  "My dear Lord Marwood,
pray do not trouble yourself with apologies.  The thing is that you are
here.  Now, do come and have a seat.  I fear there is nothing vacant
next to your charming fiancee but there does just happen to be a seat
here by me."

Marwood nodded and followed his hostess to the seat she indicated.  He
had not missed her reference to charlotte as his fiancee and silently
sent a prayer of thanks heavenward.  Longworth had been right.
Charlotte had not yet put about that their betrothal was at an end.  So
much the better.

As he passed by the row in which she sat, Marwood offered Charlotte a
quick smile.  She was pale, he noted, but composed.  And as beautiful
as ever in the gown of off-white silk trimmed with delicate Alenen
lace.  She noted his regard and inclined her head politely before
turning away to address a remark to Laura on her right.  It was hardly
an endearing look, but at least she had not given him the cut directly,
Marwood reflected ruefully.

Taking his seat, Marwood prepared to bide his time until an
intermission was announced, when his attention was distracted by the
sound of a voice he would just as soon have forgotten.

"Why, good evening, Lord Marwood," the husky feminine voice said close
to his ear.  "To what do we owe the honour of your presence this
evening?  Not that I am complaining, of course.  '

The honey-sweet tones could only belong to one woman, and Marwood
forced a stiff smile to his lips.  "Good evening, Lady Howard," he
replied in.  what he considered to be a tone of reasonable civility.

Celia, Lady Howard, was as beautiful and alluring as he remembered.  In
a dating gown of gossamer fine silk, her blond hair framing an elfin
face with bewitching green eyes and lush, inviting lips, she was as
desirable as a siren.  But many a sailor had met his untimely death
hearing the siren's song, and Marwood had no intention of casting his
own ship upon those rocks.  He had already risked destruction once,
having enjoyed a brief and tempestuous encounter with her before
meeting Charlotte.  Once having done so, however, Devon had
quickly--far too quickly for Celia's liking--terminated the affair.

"I was not aware that you had returned to Town, my lord," Celia
whispered in a low voice.  "I have been longing for your return."!

Marwood nodded politely, determined not to entangle himself again.  "I
am but recently returned and have found myself with little time to do
anything," he replied, adding pointedly, "and how is Lord Howard this
evening?"

The blatant hint caused Celia not the slightest twinge of guilt.  "Too
well, I am afraid, my lord," she replied, laughing throatily, "but, as
you can see, he is not in attendance, which makes my enjoyment of the
evening that much more complete.  Would you not agree?"

Marwood's smile twisted sardonically.  As the bored wife of a very
wealthy but considerably older man, Celia, Marwood knew, had not been
happy with his rejection.  He also knew that not even the announcement
of his recent betrothal had been enough to dampen her ardour.  Celia
could be a very determined woman when she wanted to be.  "If you say
that his absence improves your enjoyment of the evening, far be it from
me to disagree, Lady Howard.  I hope that you will give him my regards
when You return home."

Celia pouted.  "But how formal you have become, Devon.  You know that I
should rather you give me your regard."  She gave him a provocative
look which only a blind man could have misunderstood.  "You will come
to see me again, won't you, Devon?"

Lord Marwood's dark eyes narrowed.  "I am afraid not, Lady Howard.  I
am engaged to be married, and very content to be so."

"Really?"  Celia taunted him, clearly disappointed.  "Then why does
your dear little fiancee not look as pleased as you with the prospect,
I wonder."

Celia turned away, a petulant droop to her lower lip.  Her words,
however, gave Marwood reason for concern.  It would not be long before
Charlotte's obvious air of restraint when in his company 'was observed.
It had gone unremarked until now because they had not been seen
together since their quarrel.  But now that he was back in London, the
sooner his plan was under way, the better.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention," Lady Roxton said,
clapping her hands.  "We shall continue our evening with a delightful
rendition of "Greensleeves' by Mis Henrietta Glascombe.  Miss Glascombe
is accompanied on the harpsichord by Mr.  Edmond Geraldton.  Miss
Glascombe?"

A polite smattering of applause broke out, and Marwood thankfully
turned his attention to the front of the room.  He deliberately fixed
his regard on the plain and woefully shy girl who had taken her
position beside the instrument.

On the other side of the room, Charlotte did the same.  She said
something amusing to Laura and then turned overly bright eyes towards
the harpsichord, looking for all the world as though there were nothing
in the world she would rather do than listen to Miss Glascombe's
halting rendition of the well-loved English folk-song.

But if the truth were known, Charlotte's composure was badly shaken and
as far as the entertainment went, she could not have cared whether the
Regent himself were standing by the harpsichord waiting to sing.  Her
enjoyment of the evening had evaporated the moment Lord Marwood set
foot in the room.

"Laura, I am feeling a trifle warm all of a sudden," Charlotte said
abruptly.  "Would you be so good as to accompany me upstairs for a
moment?"

Charlotte hated the quaver in her voice but knew there was nothing she
could do about it.  It was becoming painfully clear to her that she
could not be in Devon's presence for more than a few minutes without
losing her composure.

"Why, yes of course," Laura replied without hesitation.

Once upstairs in the privacy of the ladies' withdrawing-room, Charlotte
sank down onto the chaise and closed her eyes.  Her heightened colour
had gradually diminished until her face was left looking dreadfully
pale.

"Charlotte, are you all right?"  Laura asked, clearly concerned by her
friend's alarming pallor.  "You do not look at all well."

Charlotte opened her eyes and shook her head, trying to ignore the
dancing rainbow of lights the movement induced.  "I am fine, Laura.
Truly.  I have just had a lot on my mind lately."

"Well, yes, of course you hae," Laura murmured sympathetically.  "What
with the excitement of your engagement to Lord Marwood, and then your
brother's return, and now all the planning for the wedding--"

"Laura, there isn't going to be any wedding," Charlotte replied,
forcing herself to say the words aloud.  "I have ... broken off my
betrothal to Lord Marwood,"

CHAPTER SEVEN

LAURA LOOKED at her friend as though she had suddenly sprouted two
heads.  "You have done what?"

"It's over.  I have broken off my engagement."

"Broken your--but I thought you said--" "Yes, I know what I said, and I
know what you thought.  But I was not being completely honest with you
when I said that everything was fine between Lord Marwood and myself.
In fact, we had a horrible fight."

"Oh, Charlotte, why did you not tell me?"  "Because to be quite
truthful, I did not want the news to get about.  You know how people
like to talk, Laura.  There would have been endless speculation as to
the reasons why the marriage had been called off."

"Is that why Lord Marwood went away to the country?"  Laura enquired
delicately.

At Charlotte's nod, Laura sighed and sank down onto the seat next to
her.  "Oh, dear," she said breathlessly.

"Yes, oh, dear is right," Charlotte agreed.  "And you are the only one
who knows, apart from Aunt Kittie and Lord Longworth, and I have asked
them both to say nothing for the moment.  I have not even told Edward
yet.  I will not have a damper put on his return by making this public
knowledge right now.  You understand, don't you?"

"Well, yes, I suppose I do," Laura said, looking somewhat dubious in
spite of her assertion to the contrary.  "But, oh, Charlotte, I am so
very sorry  What happened?""

Charlotte shook her head, her eyes darkening with pain as she recalled
the bitterness in Devon's voice when he had hurled his accusations at
her.  "It is of little consequence now.  All that matters is that it is
over."

After a few more minutes, Charlotte decided that her composure was as
'much restored as it was likely to be and followed Laura back down the
stairs.  She quietly slipped into her seat in the music room, her face
giving no evidence of the strain she had been under prior to her
departure.  She was once again the smiling and serene Miss Kingsley.
She refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing one trace of
emotion on her face.  If Devon could be cool and calm in the face of
Society's scrutiny, so could she!

When Mr.  Geraldton's laboured playing,

along with Henrietta's thin, falsetto singing finally came to an end,
there was more polite applause, though whether it was out of relief or
commendation, Charlotte was not sure.  Sensing her guests'
restlessness, Lady Roxton decided to declare an intermission.  "Ladies
and gentlemen, refreshments are being served in the main dining-room,"
she announced brightly.  "Shall we adjourn?"

Charlotte rose along with the rest and made her way outside with Laura.
Unfortunately, Laura, now having been made aware of the broken
betrothal, seemed more disposed towards commenting on Lord Marwood's
unexpected appearance than upon the calibre of the entertainments
provided.

"I cannot believe he actually came," said Laura, glancing covertly
towards the earl.

"And I cannot think why you would find his appearance in any way out of
the ordinary," Charlotte admonished.  "Lord Marwood was invited the
same as we were."

"Yes, but given what has happenedm'

"No one here but you and I are aware of what has happened, Laura, and I
would caution you to remember that," Charlotte said in a carefully
hushed voice.  "There will be time enough to make the world aware that
Lord Marwood and i are no longer affianced after Edward has been given
his hero's welcome.  Besides, our quarrel has nothing to do with
whether Lord Marwood appears in public or not.  He does so frequently,
and no doubt will continue to do so.  As shall I," Charlotte professed
valiantly.

Laura glanced at her friend sympathetically.  "Is it too unbearable for
you to see him?"

"Unbearable?  No," Charlotte admitted slowly.  "I admit his ... arrival
here tonight did catch me somewhat off guard, but it was a momentary
lapse and one which I will take pains not to repeat.  For the moment,
it is imperative that everything appear just as it should be between
us."

"I fear you are about to be given opportunity to prove that," Laura
whispered, as Marwood approached and drew to a halt in front of them.

"Good evening, Miss Beaufort," Marwood said, before turning to gaze at
Charlotte with far more warmth than she expected.  "Charlotte.  I trust
I am not interrupting."

Charlotte maintained her composure admirably.  "Not at all, Lord
Marwood.  Miss Beaufort and I were just commenting on the ... quality
of the entertainments provided this evening."

"Or their lack thereof," Marwood commented drily.  "I would venture to
say it has not been one of Lady Roxton's more memorable evenings.
Still, I am relieved to hear that it is the rather lacklustre
performance of Lady Rox-ton's guests which has invoked your criticism,
Charlotte, rather than my own unexpected appearance," Marwood said in a
surprisingly gentle voice.

Charlotte glanced up at him curiously.  "On the contrary, my lord, I
would say nothing of you, either behind your back or to your face, if
it could not be kind."

Lord Marwood chuckled.  "Then I can only conclude, my dear, that at
times you are left with precious little to say about me at all!"

Charlotte glanced up at Devon, astonished by the bantering familiarity
in his tone.  They might still have been betrothed from the way he
addressed her.  By now, others were becoming aware of them conversing,
as well as of the heightened colour in Charlotte's cheeks.  Lady
Roxton, not wishing to miss the opportunity of discovering anything
even remotely interesting occurring between the two, quickly made her
way to Lord Marwood's side.  "And how is everyone here?"  she enquired,
glancing from one to the other with an expression of benign
curiosity.

"Very well, thank you, Lady Roxton," Lord Marwood replied with
equanimity.  "We were just discussing the merits of honest speech."

"Honest speech?  Oh, dear, I try to avoid it wherever possible."  Lady
Roxton laughed, feigning dismay.  "I have found that nothing good ever
comes of speaking honestly, especially to one's friends.  The last
thing they want to hear is what you really think of them."

Marwood nodded in agreement.  "My fiancee and I were just commenting on
that very fact."

Lady Roxton continued to prattle on, but Charlotte did not hear a word
of it.  She had turned towards Marwood, disbelief written on her
face.

His fiancee?  Was he mad?  What could possibly have possessed him to
say that they were still betrothed?  Charlotte quickly opened her fan
and plied it to her burning cheeks, looking everywhere but at him.
Beside her, Marwood bowed politely.  "Will you excuse me, ladies?"

As Marwood moved off, Lady Roxton tapped her fan against her chin in an
envious manner.  "Such a handsome man, and so obviously devoted to you,
Charlotte.  You are indeed a very lucky girl.  Though, I must say, I
did notice a certain..itension about Lord Marwood earlier," Lady Roxton
probed gently.  "Did you notice that, my dear?"

Charlotte closed her fan with a practised flick of her wrist.  "Not at
all, Lady Roxton," she lied smoothly.  "Lord Marwood is as he ever
was."  Lady Roxton smiled, but Charlotte did not miss the quickly
suppressed flicker of disappointment in her eyes.  "Well, yes, no doubt
you are right," Lady Roxton said grudgingly.  "Probably nothing more
than a case of pre-wedding jitters.  Ah, young love," she sighed, more
for the benefit of her guests than as a result of any longings of her
own.  "Speaking of young love, where is your handsome brother this
evening?  I had hoped that he would honour our little gathering with
his presence."

"Unfortunately, Edward was otherwise engaged this evening, Lady
Roxton," Charlotte replied, aware that she was fast becoming a very
convincing liar.  "He did wish me to express his most sincere regrets
at having to miss your gathering."

"What a pity.  There are many here who were looking forward to meeting
him.  Still, there will be other opportunities, I am sure," Lady Roxton
was forced to concede.

Standing in a corner nearby, Marwood helped himself to a glass of
champagne from the tray of a passing footman, and glanced back towards
Charlotte, marvelling at her poise.  He had not missed the look of
shock on her face when he had called her his fiancee, and had purposely
moved away to allow her time to gather herself.  But while it was clear
that outwardly Charlotte had regained her equilibrium, he knew that she
was far from happy.  He did not need to see the lingering shadow about
her eyes or the faint tremor in her bottom lip when she smiled to know
that she was still very confused about what had happened.

"Evening, Marwood."

"Longworth.  Enjoying the evening?"  "Mildly.  You?"

"Not as bad as some."

Longworth nodded, and glanced in Charlotte's direction candidly.  "How
proceeds the reconciliation?"

"Slowly" I am afraid, but not without hope," Marwood replied.
"Charlotte did not faint dead away when I referred to her as my fiancee
in front of Lady, Roxton just now.  Have you had any success on your
end?"

"Indeed," Longworth replied promptly.  "I have, in fact, thoroughly
quashed any rumours circulating of a rift between the two of you and
have put it about that your sudden removal from London was due to
pressing matters concerning the management of Marwood Hall."

Marwood nodded in satisfaction.  "Good.  If we can at least subdue the
rumours until I have had an opportunity to speak with Charlotte, I

may be able to stop them from arising at all."  "When do you plan to
speak to her?"

"Just as soon as I can get her alone."  Marwood's eyes were shuttered.
"I cannot afford to lose any more time than I already have."

Across the crowded room, Charlotte pretended to listen to the
conversation going on around her and carefully stifled a yawn.  Her
feet were aching, she had a splitting headache and she wanted nothing
more than to leave.  She was tired of having to pretend that everything
was all right.  Nothing at all was right.  She wanted to go home to be
alone with her misery and her anger.

Yes, her anger, Charlotte told herself with as much defiance as she
could muster.  How dared Devon presume upon her like that, pretending
that they were still betrothed.  He'd had no right.  In fact, she had
no idea why he would want to.  After all, he had already made his
feelings on the subject perfectly clear, hadn't he?

"How are you feeling, Charlotte?"  Laura asked, reappearing at her
side.

Grateful for the distraction, Charlotte smiled.  "A little tired.  I
own I will be relieved when this evening is over."

Laura gazed down at the tip of her pale pink slippers and sighed. "Yes,
I am sure it must be very difficult for you.  It is good of Lord
Mar-wood to go along with your plan not to tell people of the
betrothal, though.  You certainly would not know by his tone of voice
that there was anything wrong.  And that reference to your being his
fiancee in front of Lady Roxton was entirely convincing.  Especially as
she was looking to find fault."

"But that is just what I do not understand, Laura," Charlotte replied
in frustration.  "Lord Marwood and I did not come to any kind of ...
agreement.  His reference to me as his fiancee earlier came as a
complete shock!  The last time I saw him, he told me in no uncertain
terms exactly what he thought of me and that if I did not break off the
betrothal, he would!  We certainly did not come to any agreement."

"But are you sure you did not misunderstand him, Charlotte?"  Laura
asked hopefully.  "Lord Marwood has been anything but short with you
tonight."

"I understood him perfectly well," Charlotte replied, unable to forget
the nature of their quarrel.  "Our betrothal is well and truly over,
Laura.  But I have absolutely no idea why Lord Mar-wood is pretending
that it is not!"

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Charlotte sat on the settee in the yellow salon
and listlessly threaded her needle.  Her eyes focused beyond the square
of fabric in her tambour to a face which had no right to be there.
Devon's behaviour last night had been totally inexplicable, as well as
irrational, and Charlotte was not sure which she had found more
distressing--that he had treated her with such warmth and
consideration, or that he had been presumptuous enough to do so!

"Wool-gathering again, Lotte?"  Edward asked, breaking into her
thoughts.

Charlotte jumped and felt the colour surge into her cheeks.  "Edward,
you really must learn to make some sound when you come into a room,"
she scolded him fiercely.  "You give a soul palpitations!"

Edward glanced down at her face with an look of contrition in his
brilliant blue eyes.  "Sorry, Lotte, but I'm afraid stealth has become
second nature to me now.  I doubt I could make a lot of noise even if I
tried."

"Well; try anyway."  Charlotte's smile removed the sting from her
words, and she paused for a moment to admire his appearance.  What a
difference a few weeks had made.  The hollows in his cheeks were
filling out, and his clothes no longer made him look like an
ill-dressed scarecrow.  Indeed, he looked as fine as five-pence this
morning in a smart new jacket over a pair of smooth-fitting breeches,
his legs encased in Hessians so highly polished that she could see her
face in them.

"My, Edward, how splendid you look," Charlotte complimented him.  "I
daresay the ladies will swoon at the very sight of you."

"Thank you, Lotte," he said, sketching her a little bow.  "And speaking
of ladies, I have been meaning to take you to task over that little
trick you played on poor Miss Beaufort.  Another errand, indeed."

"Oh, now, Edward, don't scold.  I could see that you were just looking
for an excuse to be with Laura, and I thought it was very good of me to
provide you with an opportunity so quickly.  I know how shy you are
with the ladies."

"Do you, indeed?"  he responded, grinning.  "And since when did you
decide to take it upon yourself to arrange my love life for me?"

"From the moment I saw you and Laura looking at each other with calf's
eyes," Charlotte informed him.  "Good heavens, Teddy, I could
practically feel the vibrations in the air."

"Yes, well, the next time you are inclined to feel vibrations, do me a
favour and ignore them,."  Edward replied, trying to hide his laughter.
"You had poor Miss Beaufort nearly beside herself with embarrassment.
Great-aunt Gertrude indeed.  Took me almost an hour to settle the poor
girl down."

Charlotte's mouth twitched "I would not have thought an hour in your
company would settle any girl down, Teddy.  More likely it would
unsettle her for a week.  Especially now that you are quite the hero,"
Charlotte pointed out proudly.

Some of the sparkle faded from Edward's eyes.  "What nonsense," he
muttered darkly.  "I wish to God everyone would forget all about it.
There was nothing heroic about what went on, I can assure you.  Still,
I did not come down here to dampen your spirits.  Came to ask you if
you'd care to join me for a drive."

Charlotte brightened momentarily.  "A drive?"  "Yes.  I thought I would
take you and Miss Beaufort to the fair.  Miss Beaufort told me that the
two of you rather enjoyed yourselves last year.  She informed me that
you even slipped away and had your fortune told by the old Gypsy,
though she was most annoyed when you would not tell her about it."

At the mention of the Gypsy, Charlotte's own smile abruptly faded.  She
had never spoken to anyone of what the woman had said.  "it is good of
you to ask, Teddy, but no, thank you.  I think perhaps I should stay
home."  She indicated the embroidery in her lap.  "I have been quite
remiss of late in attending to things domestic."

"Have you, indeed?"  Edward frowned, aware that as soon as they had
stopped joking, Charlotte had slipped back into the mood which seemed
to have taken hold of her since shortly after his return.  "I wonder.
You have not been looking too happy, Lotte, and that's not like you.
Especially now, when you have so much to be happy about."

Painfully aware that she had little other than her brother's return to
be happy about, Charlotte shook her head.  She hoped her smile was
convincing as she uttered the bald-faced lie.  "I am fine, Teddy.
Really.  And I am delighted to hear that you are taking Laura to the
fair.  Apart from the fact that she did have a good time last year, she
will enjoy seeing it all the more with you."

Edward heard the assurances, saw the smile and didn't believe a word.
"Lotte, are you sure you're feeling quite the thing?"

"Of course, Edward.  Why would you ask?"  "No reason," he replied,
adding with a casual shrug, "I just thought that you were looking a
touch more tired than usual."  He grinned boyishly.  "Perhaps you
should have Aunt Kittie mix up one of her tonics."

"Heavens, anything but that!  Now go and have a good time.  And stop
worrying about me."  '

Edward bent down and pressed a quick kiss against her dark hair.  "I
shall be home in time for dinner."

In the silence following' Edward departure, Charlotte let the
embroidery slip to her lap, well aware that her brother was right.  She
had not been sleeping well.  Her dreams, like most of her waking
moments, were filled with thoughts of Devon, until she had long since
ceased to hope that sleep would offer her the escape she so desperately
sought.

Unexpectedly; the words of the Gypsy's prophecy came back to her.  The
old woman had been.  right, Charlotte admitted.  Devon had brought her
joy and pain.

By love's hand shall you be condemned.  She had been right about that,
too.  Edward's letter--the very one she had waited so long to
receive--had been the one which had ultimately destroyed her
relationship with Devon.  What then, of the last part of the
prophecy?

"Good afternoon, Charlotte."

Charlotte spun round on the love seat.  "Devon!  What are you doing
here?"  Her eyes went beyond him to the door.  "How did you get in?"

Marwood slowly made his way to her side.  "I bribed Dickens," he
admitted with a lopsided grin.  "I hope I am not intruding."

Charlotte lifted her chin, praying that he could not see how furiously
her heart was beating.  "You are, and I hope you will not be offended
if I ask you to leave."

"May I not speak with you a moment, Charlotte?"

"I cannot imagine what you would have to say to me, my lord." Charlotte
willed her voice not to tremble.  "I thought you had already made your
feelings painfully clear."

"I made my feelings clear before I realized the truth of the matter.
That is what I would speak to you about.  About ... Edward."

Charlotte gazed up at the man standing quietly beside her, torn by the
disturbing pull of her emotions.  "Very well; my lord.  Since you have
gone to the trouble of bribing your way in here, I suppose you may as
well say what you have come to."

Marwood heard the stiffness in her voice.  "Will you not make this easy
for me, Charlotte?"

"I see no reason why I should, my lord.  You did not make it easy for
me that day in the Park."

"No, I did not," Marwood admitted.  "And I have not stopped regretting
it for a moment since I discovered my folly."

The softness in his voice tugged painfully at her heart.  Charlotte's
gaze was shuttered as it rested on his face.  "How did you come to
discover your folly, my lord, since you obviously did not hear it from
me?"

"Lord Longworth informed me of it upon his return to London."

"Lord Longworth?"  Charlotte's composure slipped.  "Lord Longworth knew
of this?  But how?"

"Were you not aware that it was Longworth who brought your brother out
of France?"

"Dear God!"  Charlotte paled.  "No, I was not.  Why did he not tell me?
Or Edward?  They were both here that morning."  She gazed at him in
silent appeal.  "Why did one of them not tell me?"

"No doubt they had their reasons," Marwood said, knowing very well why
no mention had been made of the fact.

"Oh, bother men and their stubborn pride!"  Charlotte said with
uncharacteristic vehemence.  "If they had but told me--I owe Lord
Long-worth so much.  He must think me terribly ill-mannered for not
having said anything."

"Your thanks are not necessary, Charlotte," Marwood replied, though not
unkindly.  "Long-Worth did what he did for his country, not for you."

"Nevertheless, it was my brother he brought home, Lord Marwood, not
some stranger as you were inclined to think at the time."

Marwood felt the sting behind her words.  "Charlotte, I can only
apologize for believing you guilty of such a thing.  I was jealous, can
you not understand that?  Can you not see that I was blinded, first by
the letter, and then by the sight of you in another man's arms?  What
was I to think?"

"You should have thought that I would not have betrayed you, my lord,
no matter what you saw," Charlotte replied in a tight little voice.
"Things are not always what they seem."

"No, I am very well aware of that."  He looked down at her face
regretfully.  "Will you not forgive me then, Charlotte?  Is there no
room in your heart for me?"

Charlotte momentarily closed her eyes against the sight of that
face--the face of a man who had caused her more pain than anyone had a
right to.  "You did not trust me, my lord," she whispered tremulously,
"and that I cannot easily forgive.  Nor can I forgive your behaviour
last evening at Lady Roxton's.  I have no idea why you would wish to
perpetrate this ... charade."  "Charade?"  he repeated.

"Yes.  With regard to our betrothal."  Charlotte turned her back to him
as she uttered the words.  "We both know that our engagement is at an
end, yet you seem strangely reluctant to let it be known."

Marwood gazed at her thoughtfully.  "No more reluctant than you, I
wouldn't have thought."

She whirled back round.  "IT'

"It was you who first chose to say nothing, Charlotte.  When I returned
to London, I fully expected to hear people discussing our...
rndsentente: I think you can understand my surprise when I learned that
no one, in fact, seemed to know that we had ... changed our minds."

Charlotte lifted her chin defiantly.  "I had my reasons for keeping my
silence, Lord Marwood.  My brother had only recently returned to
England, and I did not wish the news of his homecoming to be dampened
by our own decidedly less happy news.  Nor' did I wish Edward to be
unduly concerned about me.  He has had a bad enough time of it over the
past three years."

"I give you no argument over that," Mar-wood said.  He walked across to
the leaded window and gazed out, not even pretending an interest in the
activities he saw in the street below.  "So, Charlotte, where would you
have us go from here?"

"My lord?"

"Well, since you flatly refuse to accept my apology and have informed
me in no uncertain terms that you have no intention of changing your
mind, I should like to know how you would like to proceed."  He turned
and glanced at her, noting the confusion in her eyes.  "It seems that
nothing is to be gained by prolonging it now.  I only perpetrated the
charade, as you call it, in order to gain time to talk to you.  But now
that I have, and have gained nothing by it, I suppose I must ask you
how you wish to go on?  Would you like me to circulate the news that
our betrothal is at an end, or do you wish to do so yourself?."

Faced with the question, Charlotte suddenly found herself at a loss for
words.  What did she really want?  Did she truly wish people to know
that it was over between herself and the Earl of Marwood?  Did she want
to acknowledge it herself.9

Drawing a deep breath, Charlotte began to reply when the sound of a
commotion directly overhead startled her into silence.  She heard the
sound of glass shattering, followed by a muffled cry and then a heavy
thump.

Marwood's eyes shot upwards.  "What the hell was that?"

Charlotte was already moving towards the door.  "I don't know.  Aunt
Kittie's room is directly above this one."

When they got to the top of the stairs, Anna was standing in the
hallway outside Aunt Kit-tie's room, wringing her hands.  "Oh, Miss
Charlotte, she isn't answering!  I didn't know what to do."

"Hush, Anna."  Charlotte brushed past the girl and opened her aunt's
door, stopping on the threshold in horror.  She did not need to ask
what had happened.  The sight of the overturned chair, the shattered
remains of the broken medicine bottle and the heavy smell of lavender
gave clear testimony to the cause of the accident.  The sight of her
aunt's crumpled body on the floor beside the wardrobe, a nasty bruise
already discolouring the skin around her eye, showed the result.  "Aunt
Kittie!  Oh, Devon--"

He was there before she had a chance to finish, his hands like bands of
steel on her arms, supporting her.  She could almost feel his strength
flowing into her.  "Send for Dr.  Palfrey," he ordered, "and tell him
to get here as fast as he can."

Charlotte nodded.  She crossed to the bell-pull and summoned Dickens
while Devon gently scooped the unconscious woman up in his arms and
laid her upon the bed.

The butler arrived momentarilyl "Dickens, send one of the lads for Dr.
Palfrey," Charlotte said quickly.  "My aunt has had a fall and will
require attention as soon as possible?"

Glancing towards the bed, Dickens went nearly as white as Charlotte.
"I'll go, Miss Charlotte," he said, collecting himself.  "I would feel
better attending to it myself."

Charlotte nodded, thanking him with her eyes.  She turned to the
distraught maid.  "Anna, go downstairs and ask Mrs.  Bramble for some
hot water and clean cloths.  You and I will clean this up before the
doctor arrives."

"Yes, Miss Charlotte," the girl whimpered and scurried off.

Charlotte bit her lip and hurried to her aunt's side.  Her heart was
beating furiously.  "Oh Devon, how very pale she looks."

"She'll be all right," Marwood said, not taking his eyes from her
aunt's face.  "What the devil was she doing up there, anyway?"

Charlotte sighed.  "Trying to get down one of her remedies.  I've
warned her to be careful, but she will put those heavy bottles on top
of the wardrobe.  I don't know how many times I--oh!"  Charlotte caught
her breath as her aunt's translucent eyelids fluttered open.  "Aunt
Kit-tie?"  Charlotte whispered, kneeling down close to her aunt's
pallid face.

"Charlotte?"

"I am here, dearest.  You are going to be allright.  Dr.  Palfrey is
coming."

"Head ... hurts," Aunt Kittie said, closing her eyes.  Charlotte
glanced at Marwood in dismay.

"Talk to her, Charlotte," he ordered softly.  "Try to keep her
awake."

"Lord ... Marwood?"  Aunt Kittie ventured.  "Charlotte, is..  "Lord
Marwood ... here?"

"Yes, Aunt.  Devon is here."

To Charlotte's amazement, a tiny smile appeared.  "Good.  Don't like to
see you ... unhappy."  The eyelids fluttered closed again.

"Devon?"  Charlotte whispered, clutching the tiny hand in hers, afraid
to look away.

"She's still with us, Charlotte," Marwood soothed.  "Keep talking to
her.  Don't let her go to sleep."

Charlotte sat at her aunt's side and talked.  She talked of anything
and everything that came into her head, nonsense or otherwise, just so
long as the sound of her voice kept her aunt awake.  Mar-wood stood by,
silently watching.  Finally, they heard the crunch of carriage wheels
on the gravel below.

Charlotte glanced up quickly.  "Is it Dr, Palfrey?"

At the window; Marwood nodded.  "Thank God."  The relief in his voice
was evident.

In minutes, Dr.  Palfrey was in the room.  He quickly examined the
elderly woman, confirming that apart from the nasty bruise forming at
her temple and a cut on her shoulder, she had sustained no broken
bones.

"She's had a nasty bump, but I don't think it's anything more serious
than that.  Thankfully, the cut on her shoulder is clean," Dr.  Palfrey
said when he had finished his examination.  "Just see that she rests
and try to keep her quiet.  At her age, shock can sometimes cause more
harm than the actual injury."

"You're sure she is going to be all right?"  Charlotte asked.

Dr.  Palfrey 'grinned.  "Your aunt may be small, Miss Kingsley, but she
has determination enough for two.  Helps that she has such a hard head,
too!"  He took a bottle out of his bag and gave it to Charlotte.  "Give
her some of this when she wakes up.  It will help to ease her pain. 
And don't let her take any of those blasted remedies of hers."."

Charlotte managed a weak smile.  "Thank you, Dr.  Palfrey."

Marwood shook the doctor's hand.  "Thank you for coming so quickly,
Hugh.  I'll see you

Out."

Marwood walked the doctor downstairs, leaving Charlotte alone with her
aunt.  "Charlotte?"

"I'm here, Aunt Kittie," Charlotte replied softly.  "How are you
feeling, dearest?"

"I have felt ... better.  Am I going to live?"  At that, Charlotte
experienced the first urge to laugh she had felt all day.  "Yes, you
are.  Dr.  Palfrey told us you were a tough old bird," she said
affectionately.

"Impertinent!"  Aunt Kittie grimaced.  "I shall have ... a word with
him when I am on my feet again."  She opened her eyes and 'delicately
sniffed the air.  "Botheration!  I was afraid of that."

"Afraid of what?"

"The lavender."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The jar of lavender.  It broke, didn't it.  I can smell it."

"Never mind the lavender, Aunt Kittie.  How many times have "I told you
"Charlotte abruptly bit back the rest of the scolding, remembering what
the doctor had advised.  Instead she said, "I want you to rest now,
Aunt.  Dr.  Palfrey said you are to stay in bed."  Charlotte tucked the
blankets up around her chin.  "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, though perhaps you could have Anna make up a poultice of..."

"I am not going to have Anna make up anything."  Charlotte was firm.
"Dr.  Palfrey was most insistent that you use the medicine he left."

"But my own are better."

"Aunt Kittie!"

"Oh, very well.  But if I have any bruises, I want you to fetch my
wormwood balm and--"

Charlotte shook her head in resignation.  "I think he was right.  You
do have a hard head!"

"Charlotte?"

"Yes!"

"Lord Marwood was here?"

Charlotte faltered.  "Y-yes.  He's just seeing the doctor out."

Aunt Kittie smiled.  "He is a good man, Charlotte

"Yes, I know," Charlotte replied after the briefest of hesitations.
"Now I want you to rest."

"So happy you and Lord Marwood--"

The rest of the sentence was left unfinished as Aunt Kittie drifted off
to sleep.  Pressing a tender kiss against the wrinkled cheek, Charlotte
quietly rose and turned towards the door.

Marwood was standing in the doorway, watching her.

"She's asleep," Charlotte said lamely.

He nodded.  "So I see.  She is going to be fine, Charlotte.  I think
she is more concerned about you than she is about herself right now."

Charlotte blushed.  "I take it you heard what she said."

"I heard, but it need not signify," Marwood informed her quietly.  "She
will recover whether you and I stay together or not.  But there will be
another time to speak of that.  You need to get some rest yourself."

"Yes, I think I do," Charlotte replied.  She gazed at the man who stood
in front of her, and suddenly felt unutterably weary.  "Thank you,
Devon.  I ... don't know what I would have done without you."

"You would have managed, Charlotte," Mar-wood said.  "You are a very
strong young lady, and one quite capable of dealing with any situation.
Now go to your room and get some rest.

I shall see myself out."

"Devon?"

Marwood turned around.  "Yes?"

"What we spoke of earlier," Charlotte began awkwardly, "about ... our
betrothal.  Perhaps under the circumstances, we should ... wait a
little while before we say anything.  You heard what the doctor said
about... not upsetting Aunt Kit-tie."

Marwood watched Charlotte in silence for a few minutes, his expression
veiled.  Then he said, "If it is what you wish."

Charlotte nodded, feeling the tightness back in her throat.  "It is."

"Very well.  Then that is how it shall be.  To all intents and
purposes, we are still engaged.  Only you and I will know differently.
But I think it only fair to tell you, Charlotte," Marwood said, walking
towards her until he stood so close that she could smell the
disturbingly masculine scent he wore, "that you must be the one to say
when this ... charade is at an end.  When you feel that your aunt is
well enough to hear the truth, we shall make it known.  Until then, I
shall govern myself accordingly.  Agreed?"

Charlotte nodded again, unable to put what she was feeling into
words.

With a smile that could have meant anything, Marwood bowed, and turned
to go, leaving Charlotte in the room with her sleeping aunt, tired and
even more confused than she could ever remember having felt!

CHAPTER EIGHT

"TOUCHg!"  Lord Longworth cried, his voice muffled by the protective
mask he wore over his face.  "I believe that's my bout, Barrymore. Care
to try another?"

The tall, rather inelegant man standing opposite him removed his mask
and shook his head.  "I think not, Longworth.  My dignity has suffered
enough for one day."

Longworth laughed.  "Now, Fitz, there's no need to sound so dejected.
You've not been at this sport long enough to become discouraged by the
loss of a few rounds."  Longworth glanced at the foil in his hand with
respect.  "It takes time to master the blade, and 'tis not so easily
managed as one might think.  Besides," he added, "I owed you this. You
gave me a proper send-off at the table the other week.  I've not gone
home with pockets that empty in a very long while."

"Well, I daresay we all have our talents."  Barrymore turned at the
sound of a new arrival.

"Ah, Marwood.  I trust you are in fine spirits this morning."

Marwood, who was in neither fine spirits nor a particularly amiable
frame of mind, cast a tolerant glance towards the speaker and nodded
more affably towards Longworth.  "Given the events of last evening, I
am amazed to find myself up yet.  I did not reach my bed till nearly
three this mo ming

"Indeed?  And whose bed were you in until three this morning?"
Barrymore enquired boldly.

Marwood's dark brows rose fractionally.  "Inquisitive, aren't you,
Barrymore?"

"Well, I, too, was at Lord Dreighton's last evening, my dear Marwood,
and I saw you leave there no later than one.  Hence, if you did not
reach your own bed for nearly two hours, I can only conclude you were
in someone else's for the duration."

Marwood shook his head.  "Your jest is in poor taste, Barrymore.  As
you well know, I am promised to Miss Kingsley."

Barrymore shrugged.  "To my knowledge, that has never prevented a
fellow from keeping his bed warm at night.  And you ain't married yet.
I noticed that your intended appeared a trifle cool the last time the
two of you were together."  Marwood's countenance darkened ominously.

"What my fiancee does is no concern of yours, Barrymore, and I would
advise you to watch what you say lest you find yourself at the opposite
end of my blade."

Barrymore's mocking grin vanished in a trice.  "You don't frighten me,
Marwood.  If you wish to fight, pick up your weapon and let us take our
places on the floor."  He brandished his foil in what he believed to be
a suitably threatening gesture.  "I've half a mind to teach you a
lesson here and now!"

"Teach him a lesson?  Zounds, BarrY more you must have half a mind to
contemplate such foolishness," Longworth observed in a dry tone.
"Marwood would have you skewered before you'd even had time to assume
the opening position."

Barrymore blanched.  Having forgotten his own lack of expertise in the
heat of the moment, he recognized the wisdom of withdrawing the
comment.  It did not, however, prevent him from casting a rather
arrogant glance in the earl's direction.  "Sorry, Marwood.  Didn't mean
any slight.  No doubt your little bride-to-be was not feeling quite the
thing.  Happens to them all, I understand.  And I did see you speaking
with Lady Howard?"

Marwood unwrapped his foil with a marked lack of concern.  "Is that
supposed to have some significance, Barrymore?  I often speak to ladies
with whom I am acquainted."

"Rather more than just acquainted, weren't you?"  Bartymore's lip
curled.  "I understand you and Celia were quite ... close at one
time."

Marwood straightened and looked the man directly in the face. "Whatever
passed between Lady Howard and myself in the past is exactly that,
Barrymore.  Past.  And I would bring to your attention the fact that I
did not open the conversation with Lady Howard the other night."

Barrymore smiled lazily.  "Is there a difference as to who initiates
conversation?"

"There is to me," Marwood replied tersely, "As I've told you, I am
betrothed and I do not intend to give my lady any cause for
unhappiness.  Either before or after our wedding."

"Perhaps you should direct Barrym0re here into the path of Lady
Howard," Longworth suggested, seeking to alleviate some of the tension
between the two men.  "Since Celia is so obviously looking for new
diversions."

Marwood allowed himself a brief smile.  "I think poor Fitz has already
tested the waters and found them a little chilly."

Lord Barrymore flushed and pointedly ignored Marwood.  "I am quite
capable of finding my own chbre amie, thank you, Longworth.  In fact,
I've had my eye on a rather enticing little dancer for the past few
weeks now.  Saw her at the theatre, and if I don't miss my guess, she
is in need of someone to take care of her."

"Then by all means, take care of her, Barry-more," Lord Marwood advised
him.  "I should hate to think of you spending your evenings alone." '

Barrymore shot the earl a suspicious glance, not at all sure that
Marwood wasn't enjoying a jest 'at his expense.  He had certainly been
known to in the past.  His eyes narrowed coldly.  "I wonder if you
realize how much money has been wagered on your not making it all the
way to the altar, old boy."  Barrymore fastened his cloak around his
shoulders and winked meaningfully.  "Odds are stacked against you."

Marwood shrugged off the remark.  "As there are those who would bet on
whether the rain will fall two days in a row, I don't doubt that there
are.  Howeveras I said, those who have wagered against me are destined
to be out of pocket.  I intend to marry Miss Kingsley."

Barrymore drew himself up.  "Then I wish you all the best.  Your
servant, gentlemen," "Barrymore."

When the door finally closed behind him, Marwood's smile faded.  Beside
him, Longworth scowled.  "Puffed up popinjay."

"Pay no mind to what he says, Nicholas, the man is a buffoon," Marwood
said dismissively.  "Always has been."

Longworth rubbed his hand along the blade thoughtfully.  "The man may
be a buffoon, but he did notice Charlotte's coolness the other night.
And you may be assured that if he did, other people did, too.  Or am I
mistaken and it is no longer an issue?"  Longworth glanced at his
friend hopefully.  "Have,things improved between you and Miss
Kingsley?"

"No, I fear they have not," Marwood replied regretfully.  "But I was
damned if I was going to let Barrymore know.  He was looking for
something to take back to his cronies, and I certainly wasn't about to
give it to him."

"No, of course not.  Still, it's a pity," Long-worth said.  "I'd hoped
that perhaps you had been able to repair the damage."

"I am beginning to think the damage irreparable."  Marwood reached for
his foil and absently tested the tip.  "I went to see Charlotte
yesterday."

"And?"

"And she informed me in no uncertain terms that it was time I put an
end to this charade."

"By Jove, that was plain speaking," Long-worth said ruefully.  "Is it
to be circulated, then?"

"No.  Unfortunately, though perhaps fortunately for me, Charlotte's
aunt suffered a fall while I was there and quite innocently put a halt
to the proceedings The doctor advised Charlotte that it would be better
not to upset her aunt in any way for a few days.  I believe poor Miss
Harper thought my presence in the house meant that Charlotte and I had
been able to resolve our differences and she was obviously very
pleased.  Charlotte asked me not to say anything to the contrary until
her aunt was well enough to hear the truth.  It seems as close as we
are going to get to any kind.  of compromise."

Longworth's face fell.  "Little more than a temporary reprieve,
then."

"I fear that is all it is."  Marwood picked up his fencing mask.  "I
believe in my heart that Charlotte still has feelings for me, but I
also know that she is quite unable to forgive me for what I accused her
of."

"And what are your feelings on the matter?"  Longworth asked.

Marwood smiled sadly.  "I would marry her tomorrow, but not unless I
know that I have her trust.  I cannot change her mind, Nicholas, nor
can I undo the damage I have done.  I fear !  must resign myself to the
fact that we have reached an impasse."

Longworth studied the face of his friend for a few minutes.  Even a
blind man could see that Marwood was anything but resigned to the sorry
state of his relationship with Charlotte.

"Well, buck up, old friend, these things often have a way of working
themselves out," Long-worth said in an encouraging tone.

"Yes, of times they do, but I am not expecting any miracles here."
Marwood pulled the fencing mask down over his face and followed
Long-worth onto the mat.  "I doubt there is any way of showing
Charlotte that I am not the untrustworthy cad she thinks I am.  Are you
ready?"

Longworth took his position.  "Indeed.  I've a mind to get back at you
for that drubbing I took at your hands last week."

Beneath the mask, Marwood grinned.  "Do you think yourself ready?"

"I intend to give it my best.  En garde.t"

AT LADY WILTON IS SOIR!E the following evening, Charlotte, exquisitely
attired in a gown of soft lilac silk with matching elbow-length gloves
and dainty satin slippers, recounted the story of her aunt's accident
to a sympathetic audience of Lady Broughton, Lady Bering and Mrs.
Hot-tense Booker-Smythe.

"Oh, poor Miss Harper," Lady Bering murmured.  "How dreadful for her.
Thank goodness Lord Marwood was on hand.  Otherwise she might have lain
there for hours until the doctor arrived."

"Dr.  Palfrey assured you there was no damage of a lasting nature?"
Lady Broughton asked.

"None, thank goodness.  She has a rather nasty cut on her shoulder from
the broken glass and a bruise on her temple where she hit the chair,
but other than that, she is fine.  He left me some medicine for the
pain."

"Good man, Palfrey," Hortense said in a strong voice.  "Had him round
to see Booker-Smythe.  when he took a fall at' Melton.  Nasty gash:
Fell right onto the blessed fence."  She shook her head and tutted.
"Terrible rider.  Never could take anything at a gallop."

Charlotte tried not to laugh.  Hortense Booker-Smythe was a somewhat
horse-faced woman who enjoyed riding to hounds and was rumoured to
smoke her husband's cheroots.  She also had a reputation for speaking
her mind in a most forthright manner, and at the most inconvenient of
times.  "Well, Lady Broughton," she asked now.  "What do you think of
the rumours circulating about Lady Howard?"

Lady Bering's face lit up.  "Rumours?  What rumours?"

Beside her, Lady Broughton stiffened.  "Hot-tense, please!  The woman
is standing just over there."

"Well, what of it?  Everyone knows that Celia has had more stallions
than a brood mare in the field.  The fact that she is rumoured to have
found a new one shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone."

Lady Bering gasped in shocked delight.  "A paramour?"

Hortense nodded.  "Course, it wasn't as if the gel was ever in love
with her husband," she rattled on, oblivious to Lady Broughton's
intimidating stare.  "She knew what he was before she married him. Rich
as Croesus, but as boring as a judge.  No doubt she's looking for a
little spark in her life."

"Really, Hortense!"  Lady Broughton looked down her nose, utterly
appalled.  "You almost sound as though you approve of what she is
doing.  A lady must observe the proprieties, no matter what the state
of her marriage.  Is that not right, Lady Bering?"

"Hmm?  Oh, yes, indeed!"  Lady Bering replied, belatedly recalled to
the need to say something suitably censorious.  "It would be shocking
ton for a married lady to openly flaunt her affairs."

"But quite acceptable for her to conduct them discreetly, eh?" Hortense
remarked drily.

Charlotte prUdently moved away from-the group.  Hortense Booker-Smythe
might be out spoken, but she certainly had an excellent grasp of
Society's foibles.  It seemed that it was perfectly all right for a man
or a woman to take a lover as long as the niceties were observed.  One
could bend Society's rUles, but never break them.  Charlotte was still
pondering that when Lord Marwood joined her a short while later.

It was their first appearance in public together since their mutual
agreement regarding their engagement, and thus far, things were
progressing reasonably well.  Marwood, elegantly turned out in formal
evening attire, was politely attentive and acting as a fiance should.
He smiled as he responded to the congratulations extended to them and
never for a moment gave anyone the impression that he and Charlotte
were not the happily betrothed couple they appeared to be.

"Can I get anything for you, Charlotte?"  he enquired of her now.

"Thank you, my lord, perhaps later."  Charlotte risked a quick glance
at his face.  His expression was inscrUtable, a handsome mask giving
nothing away.  She sighed softly.  "I... appreciate your patience, Lord
Marwood.  I know this is not easy for you."

Marwood turned to her and shook his head.  "It is not easy for either
of us, Charlotte, but I daresay it is a good deal better than exposing
the truth at this particular moment.  There is your aunt's health to
consider."

Charlotte nodded.  She was well aware how quickly gossip would
circulate once anything was said.  She had not even had the courage to
tell Edward the truth about her relationship with Devon, let alone Aunt
Kittie, and they both deserved to hear it from her rather than anyone
else.

"Well, if it isn't the happy couple," Barry-more drawled.  "I trust the
wedding arrangements are well under way?"

Charlotte quickly took up her role again as Lord Barrymore and Lady
Howard joined them.  "Quite so, thank you, Lord Barrymore."

"I should tell you, Miss Kingsley, that there is a great deal of
interest being generated by your nuptials," Barrymore glanced briefly
at Marwood.  "Don't believe anyone thought the elusive Earl of Marwood
would ever be caught in the parson's mousetrap.  My compliments to
you."

"Yes, indeed, Miss Kingsley."  Lady Howard remarked.  "You seem to have
accomplished the impossible.  I did not think there was a net strong
enough to hold the dashing Lord Marwood."  Celia glanced up at him and
pouted provocatively.  "I know mine was not."

Charlotte stiffened, aware of Barrymore's hastily muffled laughter.
Marwood, however, handled the situation with his usual aplomb.  "On the
contrary, Lady Howard, Charlotte needs no nets to hold me.  The strings
of love are infinitely fine, but they are stronger by far than any
net."  He put one arm possessively around Charlotte's slim waist and
guided her away.  "Come, my dear.  Perhaps you would care for those
refreshments now."

Charlotte nodded and rigidly turned away, aware that her cheeks were
burning.  The memory of Hortense Booker-Smythe's earlier conversation
came unpleasantly to mind.  "And what exactly did Lady Howard mean by
that remark, my lord?"  Charlotte enquired when they were out of
hearing distance.

"Ignore Celia," Marwood said briefly.  "What she says is not worth
listening to."

"Perhaps not, but what she said is obviously rooted in truth.  Did you
have an affair with her?"

Marwood's reply was just as direct.  "Would it bother you to learn that
I had?"

Charlotte lifted her eyes to his.  "I asked you a question, my lord.
Will you not give me an answer?"

"Is the answer so very important, given the nature of our subterfuge?"
Marwood asked quietly.  "We are here to fool the others, Charlotte, not
ourselves.  A glass of rataria?"

Charlotte accepted the proffered drink, well aware that she had been
put off.  But she knew she had her answer.  And the fact that it was
yes did nothing to lessen her irritation.

When the' dancing began, Marwood took Charlotte's hand and led her out
onto the floor for a waltz.  Charlotte had always enjoyed dancing with
Devon.  It had been a heady feeling, whirling about the floor in the
arms of the man she loved.  But now, as she felt the warmth of Devon's
hand on her waist, Charlotte bit her lip, aware of the heat building
under his touch.  He was so very close, their bodies nearly touching.
The musky scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, tantalizing her
senses.  Even now, she could look up into his face and see the flecks
of gold in his eyes, and the dark, curling lashes framing them.  He had
surprisingly long eyelashes for a man, Charlotte noted absently.

"You look deep in thought, Charlotte," Mar-wood said, startling her.

Charlotte slid her gaze away from him.  "Not really, my lord.  I was
merely pondering the inequities of nature."

Marwood lifted one eyebrow but made no comment, and they finished the
rest of the waltz in silence.  When, at the end of it Marwood
surrendered Charlotte to her next partner, he tried to ignore the
undeniable stab of jealousy the sight of her smiling easily at another
gentleman caused him, all too aware of the stiffness which had coloured
their own dance.  He returned to his place by the elaborate Chinese
screen and stood watching Charlotte in a decidedly ill humour.

"Miss Kingsley is looking particularly fetching this evening," Lord
Longworth observed, suddenly appearing at Marwood's side.  "Any
progress?"

Marwood shook his head.  "No.  Nor had I expected any.  At times,
Charlotte can be a very stubborn lady."

"Well, I must say you are both doing an excellent job of acting the
part," Longworth complimented him quietly.  "No one looking at the two
of you would ever guess there was anything amiss."

"Unless they happened to hear us talking."  Devon's mouth twisted.
"Thanks to that clunch, Barrymore, Charlotte is now suspicious about my
past involvement with Celia.  She raked me over the coals quite
mercilessly."

"I am very glad to hear it."

Marwood glared at him.  "I beg your pardon?"

Longworth followed Charlotte's progress around the floor with his eyes.
"Think about it,

Dev.  Charlotte may have broken off your engagement, but if she didn't
give a damn about you, she would hardly be upset over your involvement
with Celia--past or present--now would she?"

Marwood hesitated, and then slowly began to smile.  "Do you know,
Nicholas, I think I am finally beginning to understand what Lavinia
sees in you."

"Don't 'know why it's taken you so long to figure it out," Longworth
said, giving him a rakish smile.  "I always told you I was a sterling
fellow.  Shall I see you tomorrow morning at O'Shaunessy's?"

"Eleven o'clock, and try not to be late," Mar-wood said, before
dutifully moving off to collect his next partner.

Longworth winked, and likewise turned away.  "Wouldn't dream of it, old
boy."

Standing quietly behind the Chinese screen, Lady Howard waited until
both gentlemen had moved off before cautiously stepping out, a smile of
complete and utter satisfaction on her fac el

So, all was not well between Lord Marwood and his precious fiancee. How
very interesting.  And what a pity for poor Lord Marwood.  Poor, dear
Lord Marwood, who was obviously still in love with his precious
Charlotte and trying to win her back.

Celia's eyes glittered with anticipation.  Now, how best to make use of
this piece of information which had just fallen into her lap like a
gift from the gods?  And how to ensure that Miss Kingsley did not take
him back, under any circumstances?

"Lady Howard, I believe this is our dance?"  Reluctantly pulled from
her scheming, Celia glanced up into Lord Barrymore's face, and breathed
a sigh of resignation.  Really, the man was such a bore.  Marwood
probably had it right when he had referred to him as'a clunch.  He
obviously had no more use for him than... Celia halted in mid thought.
That clunch, Bar-ryrnore.  But of course, how stupid of her not to have
seen it before.  Marwood did not like Barrymore so it was only natural
to assume that Barrymore, in turn, would not like Marwood.  And if that
were the case, BarrY more would probably be only too happy to see the
earl's betrothal come to an end.  Happy enough to help make it
happen?

Slowly the wheels began to turn.

"Why, yes, it is, Lord Barrymore," Celia apologized sincerely.  "I hope
you will forgive my momentary distraction, but I was entirely flustered
by your handsome appearance this evening.  Is that, perhaps, a new
coat?"

"Yes, eras a matter of fact, it is."

"I thought so.  Indeed, you look every bit as fine as Mr.  Brummell
himself."

Barrymore gazed down at her in astonishment.  "I do?"

Celia placed her gloved hand upon his arm as they began to walk.  "I
meant to make comment upon it when I first saw you earlier this
evening.  Although--" she lowered her voice to a more intimate level
"--perhaps it has nothing to do with the cut of the jacket.  Perhaps it
is the man himself who fills the coat so admirably."

Barrymore nearly tripped.  He had not missed the imperceptible
tightening of Celia's fingers on his arm.  Was it possible that she had
changed her mind and decided to accept his offer?  No time like the
present to find out.

"I wonder if you might like to join me for a moonlight stroll through
the garden, Lady Howard?"

"I should like that very much ... Fitzhugh.  So much more private than
being on a crowded dance floor, don't you think?"

Barrymore flushed, all thoughts of the little ballet dancer vanishing.
"It certainly is, Lady Howard."

She squeezed his arm again.  "Why don't you call me Celia."

Barrymore's chest puffed out to twice its normal size.  He could hardly
wait to tell that pompous Marwood that the waters had turned very warm,
indeed!  "It would be my pleasure.  Shall we, my dear?"

Celia was careful not to let him see the triumph in her smile as she
allowed him to lead her towards the door.  No, my dear Marwood, Celia
smiled smugly to herself, this is certainly not over yet.t

THE REST OF THE EVENING passed uneventfully enough, though by one
o'clock, Charlotte was more than ready to leave.  Standing at her side,
Marwood noticed her frequent glances towards the door.  "Charlotte,
would you like me to take you home?"

Charlotte glanced at him through her lashes, a mixture of appreciation
and apprehension in her eyes.  As much as she was reluctant to share
the close confines of the carriage with Devon, neither did she wish to
tarry here any longer.  The evening had been long enough.

"Yes, thank you, Lord Marwood," Charlotte replied at length.  "I should
be grateful."

Nodding, Marwood went to fetch their cloaks.  He slipped Charlotte's
around her shoulders and then escorted her outside to his waiting
carriage.  Climbing in beside her, he thumped his cane on the roof and
they set off at once.

They drove for a while in silence, the clip-clopping of the horses's
hooves on the uneven cobbles the only sound in the darkened carriage.
Marwood knew that Charlotte was uneasy and purposely steered the
conversation away from any discussion of their own situation.  He asked
instead, "How is your aunt feeling today?"

"Better, my lord."  Charlotte slowly let out the breath she had been
holding.  "In fact, this morning she asked Mrs.  Bramble to make up
some of her special broth.  She swears her herbs are doing more for her
than Dr.  Palfrey's medicine ever did.  I expect that she will be up
and about very soon."

"No doubt she is eager to do so?"  Marwood chuckled affectionately.  "I
understand the ladies of the ton are also hoping for a swift
recovery."

Charlotte smiled reluctantly, bringing into evidence a most charming
dimple in her left cheek.  "No more than I. My aunt is not the easiest
of patients."

Marwood laughed, the sound suddenly bringing Charlotte's other dimple
into sight.  How she loved to hear Devon laugh.  It brought a lightness
to his face she had not seen in weeks.  Not since... Charlotte quickly
averted her face, not wanting him to see the sudden look of longing in
her eyes.  What a fool she had been to think that she could so easily
dismiss Devon from her heart.  She loved him just as much now as she
had the day he had proposed.

"You've gone very quiet, Charlotte."  "Have IT' Charlotte fumbled with
her reticule.  "I was just thinking of ... Aunt Kittie again.  She
was... asking about you this morning."

Marwood's reply came in the form of a deep, throaty chuckle.  "Was she,
indeed?  Well, tell her that I shall stop by within the next day or two
and pay her a visit, if she is feeling up to it."

Charlotte's reply was guarded.  "I am sure she would be delighted to
see you, my lord.  It will give her something to look forward to."

Marwood noticed the evasiveness of her answer and added, "And will you
look forward to my coming, too Charlotte?"

Charlotte purposely glanced away.  "My lord,

To her surprise, Marwo0d shook his head and then raised her hand to his
lips, pressing a kiss into the palm It was a tender, lingering kiss,
and it shook Charlotte far more than she cared to admit.

"Dear Charlotte," Marwood breathed, releasing her hand before she had
cause to reprimand him.  "What am I going to do with you?"

But as Charlotte watched him climb back into the carriage after walking
her to the front door of her house, thoughts of what he was going to do
with her were nowhere near disturbing as thoughts of what she was going
to do without him!

"No!  I will not take any more of that vile concoction!"  Aunt Kittie
said, crossing her arms in defiance.  "Take it away."

Charlotte fought to keep a lid on her temper.  "Dr.  Palfrey said you
were to take the medicine until it was all gone."

"Fine.  Then throw it away and it will be all gone."

"Aunt Kittie!"

"Charlotte, I told you, I feel much better."

"But you're not eating enough to keep a bird alive."

"Hmph!"  "Aunt Kittie glanced towards the maid.  "Anna?  Run down to
the kitchen and have Mrs.  Bramble give you the blue bottle on the
window ledge."  She smiled at her niece sweetly.  "Nothing like a bit
of ginger tonic to help restore the appetite--which I probably lost as
a direct result of Palfrey's medicine!"

Charlotte tapped her foot in agitation.  "Aunt Kittie, I vow you are
the worst patient."

"Then leave me be to cure myself."  Aunt Kittie regarded her niece
mumpishly.  "My herbs have never hurt me before."

Charlotte rose from her seat beside the bed.  "May I remind you that it
was your blasted herbs that put you here in the first place.  If you
weren't so stubborn about storing those heavy jars on top of the
wardrobe--" -'

"The oils have to mature, Charlotte," Aunt Kittie told her.  "They must
not be disturbed--"

"What must not be disturbed?"  Edward asked from the doorway.

"Edward, thank goodness you have come.  Charlotte was just chastising
me again."  Aunt Kittie lifted her cheek for her nephew's kiss. 
"Perhaps your arrival will spare me another tongue-lashing."

"Hmm, I don't know about.  that," Edward told her.  "Seems to me I
should be adding my voice to Charlotte's.  From what Lotte has told me,
Aunt Catherine, this isn't the first time she has caught you lugging
those heavy jars around."  He grinned engagingly.  "Why ca nit you find
a safer hobby?"

"Hobby!  This is not a hobby, my dear boy, this is important work!  A
lot of people depend on my knowledge of herbs and flowers.  There would
be a great many disappointed ladies were I to suddenly put an end to my
production."

"They might be disappointed, but I know I should sleep better,"
Charlotte grumbled.

Edward glanced at his sister in amusement.  "Perhaps what we need to do
is come up with a better way of storing your jars."

"Somewhere they won't be moved around," Aunt Kittie was quick to point
out.  "Movement disturbs the aging.  And some of them must be matured
in the dark."

"Fine.  Why don't we extend the back kitchen and you can store them on
the floor?  That way, there will be no need for you to carry the
bottles up the stairs or move them on and off the top of your
wardrobe."

Aunt Kittie began to look hopeful.  "Edward, I think that might be just
the thing!  Yes, Dickens?"

"Excuse me, Miss Harper, but Lady Howard is downstairs.  She would like
to pay her respects, if you fire feeling up to it."

Charlotte's brows drew together.  "Lady Howard?  How very strange.  I
wonder why she would be calling."  She turned to regard her aunt.  "I
don't believe she has ever stopped in before."

Aunt Kittie's concern, however, was for an entirely different matter.
"Oh, dear, a visitor, and just look at me, will you.  Anna, see what
you can do with my hair."  Aunt Kittie glanced at her reflection in the
looking-glass opposite the bed and poked her fingers ineffectually
through her hair.  "Looks like birds have been nesting.  Quick, fetch
my lace cap.  The newest one.  And my shawl."

Charlotte turned towards the door.  "Come, Teddy, Anna has her work cut
out for her here, and I daresay we have ours."  She linked her arm in
her brother's.  "Society is beating a path to our door.  I fear your
self-imposed isolation is about to come to an end."

In the drawing-room, Charlotte found Lady Howard admiring a set of
hunting prints over the fireplace.  Her pelisse of soft merino wool was
both stylish and flattering to her voluptuous figure, making Charlotte
suddenly very conscious of her own rather slender build.  "Good
afternoon, Lady Howard."

Lady Howard turned at the sound of her arrival.  She had been planning
this visit to Miss Kingsley since the night of Lady Wilton's soiree,
and knew exactly what she was going to say.  She opened her mouth to
begin with the usual insincere words of greeting, but stopped rather
abruptly, as her eyes lit on the tall handsome man standing beside
Charlotte.  "Oh, forgive me, Miss Kingsley, I was not aware that you
already had ... company."

would be a great many disappointed ladies were I to suddenly put an end
to my production."

"They might be disappointed, but I know I should sleep better,"
Charlotte grumbled.

Edward glanced at his sister in amusement.  "Perhaps what we need to do
is come up with a better way of storing your jars."

"Somewhere they won't be moved around," Aunt Kittie was quick to point
out.  "Movement disturbs the aging.  And some of them must be.  matured
in the dark."

"Fine.  Why don't we extend the back kitchen and you can store them on
the floor?  That way, there will be no need for you to carry the
bottles up the stairs or move them on and off the top of your
wardrobe."

Aunt Kittie began to look hopeful.  "Edward, I think that might be just
the thing!  Yes, Dickens?"

"Excuse me, Miss Harper, but Lady Howard is downstairs.  She would like
to pay her respects, if you fire feeling up to it."

Charlotte's brows drew together.  "Lady Howard?  How very strange.  I
wonder why she would be calling."  She turned to regard her aunt.  "I
don't believe she has ever stopped in before."

Aunt Kittie's concern, however, was for an entirely different matter.
"Oh, dear, a visitor, and just look at me, will you.  Anna, see what
you can do with my hair."  Aunt Kittie glanced at her reflection in the
looking-glass opposite the bed and poked her fingers ineffectually
through her hair.  "Looks like birds have been nesting.  Quick, fetch
my lace cap.  The newest one.  And my shawl."

Charlotte turned towards the door.  "Come, Teddy, Anna has her work cut
out for her hem, and I daresay we have ours."  She linked her arm in
her brother's.  "Society is beating a path to our door.  I fear your
self-imposed isolation is about to come to an end."

In the drawing-room, Charlotte found Lady Howard admiring a set of
hunting prints over the fireplace.  Her pelisse of soft merino wool was
both stylish and flattering to her voluptuous figure, making Charlotle
suddenly very conscious of her own rather slender build.  "Good
afternoon, Lady Howard."

Lady Howard turned at the sound of her arrival.  She had been planning
this visit to Miss Kingsley since the night of Lady Wilton's soiree,
and knew exactly what she was going to say.  She opened her mouth to
begin with the usual insincere words of greeting, but stopped rather
abruptly, as her eyes lit on the tall handsome man standing beside
Charlotte.  "Oh, forgive me, Miss Kingsley, I was not aware that you
already had ... company."

There was no mistaking the interest in her gaze or the implication in
her voice.  Charlotte blushed and said quickly, "Lady Howard, may I
present my brother, Edward."

Celia's eyes widened even further.  "Your brother!  Ah, so this is the
illustrious gentleman of.  whom I have heard so much.  Welcome home,
Mr.  Kingsley.  How does it feel to be a returning hero?"

Edward smiled, but his eyes were cool.  "I'm sure I do not know, Lady
Howard, since I hardly think of myself as one.  I only did what I had
to do."

Lady Howard brushed aside his modesty.  "I understand you did far more
than that, Mr.  Kingsley, but your humility does you credit,
nevertheless."

EdWard inclined his head in acknowledgement, averting his eyes from the
woman's forthright regard.

"I ... understand you wished to see my aunt, Lady Howard," Charlotte
said,

"Yes."  Celia reluctantly dragged her eyes away from Edward.  "I heard
some of the ladies discussing Miss Harper's unfortunate accident at
Lady Wilton's the other evening and thought it only polite to stop in
and see how she fares."

"That is most kind of you.  I know my aunt will welcome the diversion."
Charlotte turned towards her brother.  "Edward, are you coming up?"

"No, Charlotte, if you don't mind I won't join you," Edward said.  "I
was just on my way out when Lady Howard arrived."  He turned to regard
their visitor.  "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Howard."

"The pleasure was all mine, Mr.  Kingsley, though I hope we shall soon
be seeing you out in Society."  Lady Howard's voice dropped to a
throaty purr.  "It would be a shame to deprive all the lovely young
ladies of your company."

Edward smiled pleasantly.  "I am sure the ladies will survive."  He
winked at Charlotte and turned to go.  "See you later, Lotte."

Charlotte hastily averted her face, her lips twitching.  "If you will
follow me, Lady Howard."  She turned to lead the way up to her aunt's
room.

Celia followed thoughtfully.  "What a charming brother you have, Miss
Kingsley.  Quite charming, indeed."

The visit lasted no more than ten minutes, though not owing to any
weariness on Aunt Kit-tie's part.  Lady Howard barely seemed to have
sat down before she was rising to say her goodbyes.  She declined both
Charlotte's offer of refreshments and her aunt's offer of tea.

Hiding her surprise, Charlotte dutifully accompanied her guest back
downstairs.

"I apologize that I an not stay longer, Miss Kingsley," Celia said when
they reached the bottom of the stairs, "but I do have a few other calls
to make, and you know how quickly the time goes."

Charlotte smiled.  "It was good of you to stop by at all, Lady Howard.
I am sure my aunt was happy to see a new face."

Lady Howard watched her with interest.  "And what about you, Miss
Kingsley?  I am sure you could use a friendly face right now, or
perhaps a sympathetic ear."

Charlotte smiled politely.  "I beg your pardon?"

Lady Howard offered her a glance filled with pity.  "Come now, Miss
Kingsley, there is really no need t pretend.  I am aware that all is
not well between you and Lord Marwood."

Charlotte flushed.  "Lady Howard, I really--" "Now, you needn't worry,
your secret is safe with me.  I am a woman of the world, and I know
that sometimes things do not work out quite the way we hope they will."
She paused for effect.  "Devon was most disturbed when he was talking
to me about it."

Charlotte stared at her visitor in shock.  "He ... spoke to you of
this?"

Celia avoided the question in such a way as to make it appear that she
was reluctant to answer.  "You must understand, Miss Kingsley, that in
times of unhappiness, men will be men.  They are not as strong as
women, for all their displays of bravado.  They often seek out the
company and advice of an old friend.  SomeOne with whom they have been
... close." Lady Howard's glance suddenly became very intent.  "You do
'understand what I am saying, don't you, Miss Kingsley?"

Charlotte's chin lifted.  "I am not sure that I do, Lady Howard."

Celia's smile was reminiscent of a cat who had just discovered a nest
full of mice.  "You will, in time.  Good afternoon, Miss Kingsley."

Charlotte stood staring at the door long after her visitor had gone,
more shaken than she cared to admit.  Eventually, she turned and walked
into the yellow salon, mulling over mind the strange conversation which
had just taken place.

Devon had gone to Lady Howard about their problems?  No, it was
entirely too ridiculous to be believed, Charlotte decided.  Devon would
not tell anyone of their contretemps just yet.  Not until she had given
him leave to.  There was Aunt Kittie's health to consider, after all.

And yet, how else could Lady Howard have known that she and Devon were
at odds?  And what did she mean by saying that Devon had sought out the
company of an old friend?  Was Lady Howard insinuating that Devon had
renewed his association with her, and that he had told her of their
problems as a result?

Charlotte sat down in the wing-backed chair, frowning in annoyance. She
was suddenly sure of one thing.  There was only one reason why Lady
Howard had come to the house today--and it had absolutely nothing to do
with Aunt Kittie's welfare!

CHAPTER NINE

"YOU'RE LOOKING very pleased with yourself," Lord Barrymore said as he
helped Celia climb back into the closed carriage.  He thumped his cane
on the roof.  "Set the cat amongst the pigeons, have you?"

Lady Howard smiled as they set off.  "I certainly have, my dear Fitz.
The seeds of doubt have been planted and now require a little
watering."

"And that's where I come in."

Celia nodded.  She had known from the start that Barrymore would help
her.  It had required little more than a harmless fondle in a darkened
garden to ensure his cooperation.  "Did you get the coat?"

"An almost exact copy, and at a considerably reduced price."  Barrymore
grinned.  "A friend of mine owed me a little favour.  Tossed in the
hat, as well."

"Good.  It is fortunate that you and Marwood are of a like build.  From
a distance, it will certainly appear as though you are the earl, even
though Miss Kingsley will only be given a brief glimpse of you."

Barrymore's smile was little more than a sneer.  "I take it Miss
Kingsley is not going to be le{t in any doubt as to the identity of the
lady with Lord Marwood."

Celia smiled.  "No doubt at all.  And what she will see Us doing is
going to make her very unhappy, indeed."

Barrymore frowned.  "But what if she doesn't come to the Park?  How you
do you know she will believe the letter?"

Celia idly ran her hand along his leg, feeling him tense.  "Curiosity,
my dear Fitz.  After our little talk just now, there is no doubt in my
mind that Miss Kingsley will come, if for no other reason than to see
if her beloved Marwood really is seeing me again.  And if things are as
bad as I suspect between them, it will not take much to estrange them
completely I rather imagine the sight of Devon in a passionate embrace
with his former mistress should be enough to do it."

Barrymore gloated.  "Do you know, I shall enjoy seeing Marwood made to
look a fool when everyone discovers that Miss Kingsley has turned him
down flat.  It will serve him bloody well right!"

Celia's cat~ like smile spread.  She, too, would enjoy seeing Marwood's
betrothal come to an end, though certainly not for the same reasons as
Barrymore.

When the walls of Devon's engagement came crashing down, Celia intended
to be there to pick up the pieces, and to offer the poor man comfort in
the best way she knew how.

MAR WOOD SAT in the drawing-room of the house in Grosvenor Square, one
booted ankle crossed over the other, and stared into the flames of the
fire Robertson had started.  The book on his lap lay open to the page
he had begun an hour ago.  Only one thing occupied his mind right now.
Charlotte Kingsleymand what he was going to do without her.

"So, I find you plunged into the depths of despair again," Longworth
teased him from the doorway.  "Getting to be a bit of a habit, old
boy."

Marwood glanced up, obviously surprised to see the viscount leaning
negligently against the door, and then turned back to the sight of the
flames crackling in the fireplace.  "I fear I shall have to reprimand
my butler," Marwood muttered.  "I specifically told him I was not at
home to visitors."

Longworth chuckled and sauntered forward, draping his lanky form over
the arm of a nearby chair.  "Ah, but therein lies the difference,
Marwood.  I am not a visitor.  I am a friend, and one who cares enough
to brave the stones that are occasionally hurled at my head."

Longworth glanced at the earl, his gaze quickly taking in the
half-empty brandy decanter on the table and the look of resignation on
the noble features "I take it the course of love is still not running
smoothly?"

Marwood's response was little more than a grunt.  "At the moment, the
road to love is plagued with more twists and turns than a donkey's hind
leg."

"Never mind, Dev, I've brought someone to help cheer you up."

"Thank you, I am not in a mood to socialize."  '

"Nevertheless, this is someone I think you should meet."

"Longworth, if I have to tell "

"Good evening, sir," a voice said pleasantly.  "Have I at long last the
honour of addressing Lord Marwood?"

There was a brief silence as Marwood rose and turned towards the door.
His recognition of the man was instantaneous.  "Good Lord!  Edward
Kingsley."

Longworth slanted him an amused glance.  "I told you."

Marwood slowly began to smile.  "I am honoured, sir, though I confess
you have taken me somewhat by surprise."

Edward advanced and the two men shook hands.  "I apologize that we have
not been able to meet sooner, Lord Marwood, but I have been keeping to
myself since my return.  Poor Charlotte has been nearly beside herself
trying to arrange a meeting between us."

"Yes, so I understand," Marwood replied evasively.  "Still, the fault
is as much mine as yours.". He indicated the chair beside his own. 
"Can I offer you something to drink?  Cognac, perhaps?  Or would-you
prefer a port?"

Edward chuckled.  "Cognac will be fine.  One of the few pleasant
memories I, have of my time in France is of downing a bottle or two of
particularly fine brandy.  Made me forget where I was for a few
hours."

Longworth winked devilishly at Edward.  "I told you we would catch him
off guard."  Then, to Marwood, "I' thought it was about time the three
of us got together, Dev, considering the common bond we share."

"Yes, of course."  Marwood handed a glass each to Edward and Nicholas.
"A toast on the successful completion of your mission, Kingsley, and to
your safe return home.  You must be very glad it's all over."

"I am, indeed, relieved to be back on English soil," Edward confessed,
"though I am sure it is a feeling you know well enough yourselfi"

Marwood smiled, warming to the man.  "Yes, I do recall having felt that
way once or twice, though the memory is fading somewhatJ I have not
been active in the service these past few years."

"Nevertheless, I've heard Lord Osborne speak of you frequently, and
always with the utmost respect."  Edward's mouth curved in a knowing
grin.  "He was sorry to lose you, Lord Marwood, though I can well
understand your reasons for resigning.  Family obligations and all
that."

"Speaking of which, how is Miss Harper coming along?"  Longworth
enquired.

"Very well, and I understand I am in your debt, Lord Marwood, for
acting so swiftly on her behalf.  You have my thanks, sir."

Marwood shrugged off the compliment, though his lips quivered slightly.
"Miss Harper is an endearing lady.  I should not like to see anything
happen to her."

"My sentiments exactly."

Longworth picked up the conversation again.  "I have been telling
Edward that you are a reasonable swordsman, Dev.  I think he fancies
having a go at you."

Marwood looked at Edward in surprise.  "Do you fence?"

Edward grinned.  "I haven't for a long time, though I would welcome the
opportunity of trying my hand again.  Perhaps we could arrange to meet
for a bout sometime?"

"I would be delighted," Marwood replied without hesitation.  "Shall we
say ten o'Clock at O'Shaunessy's, the day after tomorrow?"

"Ten o'clock will be fine."  Edward studied the man in front of him for
a few minutes and then nodded.  "I know I have left the most important
issue until last, Lord Marwood, but I should like to say how very
pleased I' am that you and Charlotte are to be wed.  Charlotte is very
special to me and I am glad to see that she has chosen so wisely."  He
held out his hand.  "I shall be honoured to have you in the family, my
lord."

Marwood glanced at the outstretched hand, and hesitated.  Out of the co
ruer of his eye, he saw Nicholas shake his head.  Marwood smoothly
accepted Edward's hand and replied.  "No happier than I will be, I can
assure you."

"Right, now that all the introductions and polite chit-chat have been
taken care of," Long-worth remarked, rising, "what say we head over to
the Clarendon for some dinner.  I, for one, am devilishly hungry."

Marwood glanced over at Edward.  "Are you engaged to dine, sir?"

Edward shrugged.  "I had no particular plans, my lord."

"Splendid!"  Longworth said.  "Then let us be off.  I've heard the
chef's cOtelettes d'agneau are exceptionally fine."

Marwood glanced at Edward.  "I hope Charlotte will not be upset that
you are not dining at home with her."

"I shouldn't imagine so.  I did say before I left that I was not sure
what my plans were for this evening.  Besides, she may appreciate a few
quiet hours alone.  Now that Aunt Catherine is recovering, she will be
receiving a lot of visitors.  Lady Howard dropped by this afternoon."

"Celia?"  Longworth could barely contain his surprise.  "Good heavens,
I didn't think she had a charitable bone in her body."

"Well, I must admit, I did find the lady rather... forward," Edward
remarked as tactfully as he could.

Marwood finished off his brandy.  "Forward is a kind way of putting it,
Kingsley.  Lady Howard has all the compassion of a jackal.  Something
tells me if she was there, it wasn't solely to see your aunt."

"My money is on her wanting to see you,"

Longworth piped up.  "Everyone knows that Celia is monumentally
curious."

"Curious is not the only thing Celia is known for being," Marwood
pointed out drily.  "But come, enough of this gossiping.  Let us repair
to the Clarendon.  I understand they also do an exceptionally fine
filet de boeuf fila napolitaine .t"

Edward laughed and likewise rose to his feet.  "I hope you will forgive
me if I do not order a serving of that!"

"EDWARD, ARE YOU READY?"  Charlotte called up the stairs.  "I have left
it as late as I dare."

"Lotte, if you don't want to attend the thing in the first place, why
are you bothering to goT' Edward asked with typical male logic. "Surely
you are not expected to attend every function for which you receive an
invitation."

"Certainly not, but one is expected to try."  Charlotte smiled as she
watched her brother descend the stairs.  "Lady Broughton is a very
influential member of Society, and one cannot run the risk of offending
her.  Besides which, she is a dreadful gossip, and if I do not appear I
shall probably end up being the topic of discussion at this afternoon's
tea."

"Egad, a fate worse than death, and one to be avoided at all costs,"
Edward teased her.  "Do you know, Lotte, I am sometimes grateful for my
absence over the past three years.  At least it kept me out of the
drawing-rooms of Society without causing a great deal of speculation as
to why."

"True, Edward," Charlotte sighed.  "At times, I wish I might have been
so fortunates."

Edward glanced at his sister.  "And why would a happily betrothed young
lady such as yourself wish to avoid mixing in polite Society?  When you
are the Countess of Marwood, you will be a much-acclaimed hostess and
one well able to get back at these ladies who strike such fear into
your gallant little heart now.  sPeaking of which, where is the dashing
Lord Marwood this afternoon?  Should he not be arriving to escort you
himself?."

Affecting a casual air, Charlotte attended to an errant curl which had
somehow slipped out from under her elegant new bonnet.  "Lord Mar-wood
does not particularly enjoy affairs of this nature, Teddy, though he
did say he would try to put in an apPearance a little later."

"I see.  Well, I am very glad that, if nothing else, I have finally had
occasion to meet the illustrious gentleman."

Charlotte froze.  "You met Devon?  When?"  "Last evening.  Longworth
was good enough to introduce us.  The three of us had dinner at the
Clarendon."  Edward turned to study his own impeccably arranged cravat.
"He is a fine man, Lotte.  I like him very much.  I can see why you
wanted us to meet.  By the by, when are you going to set the date?"

Edward's words, so innocently spoken, were almost her undoing, and
Charlotte had to bite her lip to keep from telling him the truth. Thank
goodness Devon had not told him.  She did not want Edward to know what
was going on just yet.  She wanted him settled in his life first. Then
and only then would she tell him that there had been a
misunderstanding.

Instead, Charlotte drew a deep breath and pasted a brilliant smile on
her face.  "Soon, Edward.  But come, let us be off.  Lady Broughton
awaits."

The afternoon traffic was light and they made good time to Lady
Broughtoh's large, impressive house on the outskirts of Town.  Edward
brought the carriage to a halt in front of the imposing gates and
climbed down to help Charlotte alight.  She gave him a smile bright
with encouragement.  "Ready, Edward?"

Edward took a deep breath and nodded, not at all sure that he was.  "As
I will ever be, I suppose.  Lead on, Lotte."

In the drawing-room, Lady Broughton greeted them with open arms and an
expression of unfeigned delight.  "Charlotte, how very charming you
look this afternoon.  And Edward, dear boy, welcome home.  How
wonderful to see 'you safely back in England.  I cannot tell you how
honoured I am that you have chosen my humble gathering as your vehicle
to re-enter Society."  She lowered her voice to a whisper.  "I know
that Lady Roxton was most disappointed that you did not choose hers." 
Then louder, "Ladies, gentlemen, look who has joined us.  Our returning
hero, Edward Kingsley!"  Charlotte bit her lip as all eyes turned to
regard them.  She saw the flush steal over her brother's firm chin and
up into his cheeks.  This was definitely not what he had been
expecting.  He smiled bravely, however as the crowd began to surge
towards him.

"I will get you back for this, Lotte," Edward whispered out of the side
of his mouth.

Charlotte struggled to contain her laughter.  "All hail the conquering
hero," she whispered back.  "Welcome to Society, Teddy."

As Edward was swallowed up in the crowd, Charlotte found herself gently
pushed aside.  How quickly the focus of attention shifted in the world
of the beau monde, she reflected.  Still, it was probably a blessing in
disguise.  In the excitement of Edward's appearance, at least Devon's
absence had gone unnoticed.

Almost.

"And where is your handsome fiancee this afternoon, Miss Kingsley?"
Lady Broughton enquired.  "I understood that he was coming."

"Unfortunately, Lord Marwood was ... otherwise engaged, Lady
Broughton," Charlotte heard herself respond in an overly bright tone.
"He did say that if time allowed, he would try to stop in later."

"Well, I can only hope that he will, of course.  It would have been
nice to see all of you together at last."  Lady Broughton watched
Edward dealing with his new-found prominence, content in the knowledge
that she had achieved a social coup.  "I am surprised that your brother
was so reluctant to return to Society, though.  He seems to be handling
it very well.  Was he just shy?"

"Actually, my brother has been very busy since his return, Lady
Broughton.  He has not had a great deal of time to spare for such
things."

"I should think not," Lord Barrymore said, joining them unexpectedly.
"Probably been spending time at Carlton House.  Man's a hero.  Genuine
out-and-outer."

"Yes, and quite outrageously handsome, too."  Lady Howard, who had
arrived on Bar-rymore's arm, slid her eyes towards Charlotte
significantly.  "Almost as handsome as your fiance, Miss Kingsley."

Charlotte felt the colour rise to her cheeks and was thankful for the
timely arrival of more guests.  She took advantage of the opportunity
to slip away from Lady Howard and Lord Barry-more.  Really, the woman
was too or ward Charlotte fumed inwardly.  First Devon and now Edward.
Even Lord Barrymore seemed to be hanging all over her.  Did the woman
spare no time for her husband?

Eventually, Edward managed to disentangle himself from the throng and
slowly worked his way back to Charlotte's side.  His expression was
anything but pleased.  "By Jove, have I really been away that long or
has my memory dimmed?"

Charlotte tried not to smile.  "In what regard, Teddy?  Are you not
enjoying the attention of the ladies?"

"I feel like a prize stallion up for bid at Tattersall he grumbled.

"Dear me, that bad, was it?"

"All they had left to do was check my teeth."

"Oh, dear!"  Charlotte laughed.  "No, doubt they would have, given
time."

"Lotte, this is not funny!"  Edward retorted.  He went to continue,
then stopped, his frown quickly changing to a smile.  "Why, Miss
Beaufort, I had not realized that you were here."

Laura laughed prettily.  "It is hardly surprising, Mr.  Kingsley,
considering the way you were set upon the moment.  you stepped through
the door.  Society has been anxious to welcome you home.  '

Edward stifled a sigh.  "Yes, so I have discovered."

Laura glanced up at him coquettishly.  "Are you not pleased by the
attention?"

"I fear not.  It was only Charlotte's pleading that made me come at all
this afternoon."

"Then I must thank Charlotte for doing such a good job," Laura replied
softly.

For the first time that afternoon,-Edward actually looked glad that he
had come.  "Perhaps it was worth it, Miss Beaufort; if for no other
reason than to hear you say so.  You are looking very lovely this
afternoon."  His gaze dropped to the familiar shawl around her
shoulders.  "It becomes you."

Laura blushed.  "It was tvery kind of you to purchase it for me, Mr.
Kingsley, though I am not at all sure I should accept such an
extravagant gift."

"But why not?  I only bought it because you did not have time to."
Edward directed a speaking glance at Charlotte.  "As I recall, we had
to leave the shop in rather a hurry Something about a three o'clock
visit, wasn't it, Charlotte?"  Charlotte tapped him playfully on the
arm.

"Now, don't bring that up again, Teddy.  Laura has forgiven me for my
innocent meddling, haven't you, Laura?"

Laura tried to look stern, but failed.  "Yes, of course I have."

"There, you see, Edward.  Laura has no---" Charlotte broke off as she
saw another set of new arrivals turn to regard them.  "Oh, dear, I
think you are about to be set upon again, Edward.  I see Lady Broughton
pointing this way.  Come Laura, let us leave Edward to his adoring
public."

The girls did exactly that as Edward stoically went to meet the newest
arrivals, Laura turned back to watch him with a smile.

"Poor Edward.  He must be finding all this 'quite tedious.  He does not
seem the type to enjoy such attention."

Charlotte's eyes sparkled mischievously.  "He loathes it.  He was not
exaggerating when he said I practically had to drag him here today."

"Well, I am very glad that you did.  Your brother is the sweetest,
kindest, most wonderful man I have ever met."

Charlotte smiled.  "And you are terribly in love with him, aren't
you?"

Laura blushed crimson.  "Oh, dear, does it show so very much?"

Charlotte laughed and pressed Laura's arm affectionately.  "Only when
you talk about him."  "Is your brother still involved in ... business,
Charlotte?"  Laura asked carefully.

"I fear so.  It is one of the things you may want to consider if you
hope to marry Edward."

"Marry him!"  It was clear that Laura did not know whether to laugh,
blush or just feign innocence.  Somehow, her response managed to
combine all three.  "I would hardly dare to be so presumptuous.  Oh,
bother!" she said, suddenly noticing a girl waving to her from the
orner. "Marianne Bradbourne is after me again."  No doubt to ask
questions about your brother or your fiance."

"Why don't you just pretend that you did not see her?"  Charlotte
suggested.

"Because if I do that, she will tell everyone that I slighted her.
Never mind, I shall give her some vague answers and leave it at that.
I'll see you before you leave."

Squaring her shoulders, Laura walked away.  Unfortunately, as soon as
she did, Lady Howard moved in.  "There you are, Miss Kingsley, I have
been wanting to speak with you for an age, but it is so difficult to
get you alone.  I vow you are almost as popular as your brother."

"Nowhere near as popular, I shouldn't think, Lady Howard.  If you will
excuse--"

"But why are you in such a hurry to leave, Miss Kingsley?  I only came
over to pay my compliments on the splendid job you are doing."

Charlotte hesitated.  "I beg your pardon?"  "Yes, you play your part in
a most convincing manner."  Celia smiled complacently.  "I doubt anyone
in this room would guess that things have altered significantly between
you and Lord Marwood."

Charlotte stood her ground admirably.  "I really do not know what you
are talking about..  Now if you don't mind--"

"Ah, but I think you do, Miss Kingsley," Celia said quickly, "though I
confess, I do not understand the reason behind your game.  If you and
Lord Marwood are no longer betrothed, why are you trying to pretend
that you are?"

Charlotte stopped, aware of a horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of
her stomach.  There was no way the woman could have known that.  She
might have been able to hazard a guess as to the state of her
relationship with Devon, but there was no way she could have known that
the betrothal was at an end.  Only Charlotte and four other people knew
that, three of whom had been sworn to silence.  Which only left
Devon.

Reasons notwithstanding, Charlotte decided to fight fire with fire.
"You seem uncommonly interested in what is going on between myself and
Lord Marwood.  Is there any particular reason?"

"But of course.  Have you forgotten what I said the other day?"

Her smile held a wealth of meaning, and seeing it, Charlotte lifted her
chin.  "I saw no reason to remember it."

Celia tutted and shook her head.  "Miss Kingsley, why are you trying to
make this more difficult for yourself.  It would be a great deal
simpler if you just admitted that it was over and let him go on his
way."

"You presume a great deal, Lady Howard," Charlotte said coldly.

"Not really.  There is no point in being sentimental about these
things, Miss Kingsley, especially as it will all come out soon enough.
Besides, who do you think you are fooling?"  Celia asked.  "Devon is a
man of the world.  He enjoys what life has to offer.  And if the two
of-you are not to be wed, what is there to stop him from taking his
pleasures where he wishes?"  Celia glanced at her with pity.  "Why
don't you just ... let him go?"

"Why?  So that he might come back to you?"  Charlotte enquired
bitterly.

Celia's thin smile flashed.  "My poor dear Charlotte, you really don't
know, do you.  He already has come back to me.  How do you think I know
the truth about your betrothal?  Did you believe I just plucked it out
of thin air?"

Charlotte gasped.  "I don't believe you!  Devon would not--" Charlotte
abruptly broke off as the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise.
Devon was standing in the doorway--and looking straight at her.

Celia saw him, too.  "Perhaps it would be better if I were to leave the
two of you alone," she said quickly.  "No doubt you have much to say to
one another."

Charlotte flushed.  Against her will, her eyes were drawn back to the
man standing in the doorway.  She did not notice Celia slip away.  She
was aware only of Devon watching her.  She saw his eyes travel slowly
over her and blushed at his openly admiring gaze.

At the other side of the room, Lady Brughton Could scarcely conceal her
delight.  "Why, Lord Marwood, how splendid that you could join us.
Charlotte said-that you probably would not be here until later.
Charlotte, look who has arrived!"

The remark quiie naturally dreTM attention to Marwood's arrival, and a
number of heads turned, curious as to why the Earl of Marwood and his
fiancee had arrived at yet another function separately.  Charlotte
smiled and walked towards him, knowing there was nothing else she could
do.

Devon noticed her stiffness immediately.  "Good evening, Charlotte."

"My lord."  Her tone was unintentionally sharp, and Charlotte felt the
inquisitive eyes of her hostess upon her.  She forced herself to adopt
a more affectionate tone.  "I am surprised to see you here so early.
Your business obviously concluded sooner than you had led me to
believe."

Marwood's performance was faultless.  "Much sooner, i in fact.  Had I
but known, I would have picked you up as we had originally planned.
However, since I knew that Edward was bringing you, I felt secure in
the knowledge that I would see you once I arrived."

His performance did not end there.  To Charlotte's dismay, he lifted
her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against it.  It was as
much as she could do not to flinch.

The sentimental gesture, however, seemed to satisfy the eyes and the
ears of the curious.  Charlotte noticed a table of ladies return their
attention to their cards as the general hum of conversation resumed. As
Lady Broughton moved away, Devon stepped closer.  "What was Celia
saying to you when I came in?"

Charlotte started, but did not meet his eyes.  "Lady HoWard?  Nothing.
Why?"

"No reason.  I just thought you were looking rather upset.  I wondered
if she had said something to disturb you."

Charlotte finally swivelled her gaze round to his.  "Is there something
she might say that you would prefer I not hear, Lord Marwood?"

"Not at all, but Celia can be rather difficult at times," he told her
bluntly.

Charlotte laughed mirthlessly.  "You should know that better than I."

Marwood carefully held on to his temper.  "And what is that supposed to
mean?"

"Nothing, except that it appears that I was not in possession of all
the facts the other evening when I asked you if you had been involved
with her."

"What other facts?  Charlotte, I--"

"Why, Lord Marwood, what a pleasure to see you," Edward said, arriving
at their side.  "Charlotte led me to believe you would not be attending
this afternoon.  Had I but known, I would 'have allowed you to come in
my place."

Marwood smiled lazily.  "Are you i/of enjoying your return to Society,
Mr.  Kingsley?"

"I am finding it something of an eye-opener, my lord," Edward commented
ruefully.  "But it is, as I am well aware, something which had to be
undertaken sooner or later.  Are we still on for tomorrow morning?"

"We are, but I fear I shall have to make it an hour later.  Will that
pose a problem for you?"  Edward shook his head.  "Not in the least."

"Good.  I shall send word to Lord Long-worth."

"Edward, I wonder if you are ready to leave?"  Charlotte interrupted.
She purposely avoided Devon's gaze.  "I did tell Aunt Kittie that I
would spend some time with her this afternoon, and the hour is getting
on."

"Yes, I rather think I am," said Edward.  "Can I offer you a ride home,
Marwood?"

"Thank you, but my phaeton is outside."

"Well, I shall leave you two alone to say your goodbyes."

"That will not be necessary, Edward," Charlotte said swiftly.  "Lord
Marwood and I have already said all we need: to say to one another. 
Good afternoon."  Without a second glance, Charlotte abruptly turned on
her heel and left.

Watching her, Marwood's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  SOmething had
happened to upset Charlotte this afternoon."  and he strongly suspected
it involved Celia.  He glanced around the room and spotted her chatting
with Lord Bar-rymore.  What a pair, Marwood thought dispassionately as
he made his way across the floor.  The spider and the serpent,
comparing notes.

"Good afternoon, Lady Howard.  Barry-more."

The two looked round at his greeting.  Barry-more's acknowledgement was
cool at best, Celia's considerably more sociable.  "Well, Lord Marwood.
This is an unexpected pleasure."  Her voice was like warm honey.  "You
do not normally trouble yourself to seek me out.  At least, not
anymore," she could not resist adding.

Marwood's smile didn't reach his eyes.  "I wonder if I might have a
word with you, Lady Howard.  In private."

Celia's laughter issued from deep in her throat.  "You may have
anything you wish with me in private, Devon, you know that."

Beside her, Barrymore coughed.  "If you will excuse me."

Marwood waited until the man moved off before returning his attention
to Celia.  "Your taste has deteriorated, Celia."

She pouted prettily.  "You left me little choice, Devon.  There is no
one in the ton to compare with you."

"I understand you have been quite thorough in your attempts to find
someone who was."

Celia did not blush, though the significance of his words was not lost
upon her.  "Do not scold, Devon, I am married to an old man who finds a
great deal more pleasure in his books and his bottle than he does in
me."

Marwood raised one eyebrow meaningfully.  "You should have thought of
that before you married him."

Celia shrugged eloquently.  "There were extenuating circumstances.
After all, the match was not without its financial compensations.  My
husband is most generous with my allowance, and pretty much turns a
blind eye to what I do with it.  And there is the title."

Marwood's reply was carefully circumspect.  "I'm sure many women would
envy you."

"Would they?"  Celia glanced up at him boldly "Would Miss Kingsley, I
wonder?"

Marwood refused to be drawn.  "Speaking of my fiancee, I noticed you
'talking with Charlotte when I arrived, and that she seemed rather
distressed."

"Did she?"  Celia slid her gaze away from his, as though wearied of
the' conversation "What is that to me?"

"Did you say something to upset her?"

"My dear Marwood, what could I have possibly said to upset the girl?"

"I don't know, but I warn you, Celia--" Marwood's x;oice dropped "--if
I find out that you have, you will not escape lightly.  I intend to
marry Charlotte Kingsley, and nothing you say or do is going to change
that."

"Really?"  He saw a momentary flash of anger in the emerald eyes. "Then
I wish you much happiness, my lord."

It was tantamount to a dismissal, and accepting it as such, Marwood
bowed curtly and moved away.  He took his leave of Lady Brough-ton
almost immediately thereafter.

Watching his exit, Barrymore returned to join Lady Howard, quietly
applauding.  "Bravo, my dear, a masterful performance."

Celia's head snapped round.  "You were eavesdropping?"

Barrymore did not trouble himself to appear apologetic.  "I thought it
in my best interests to know what was going on, given that I, too, have
a part in this little melodrama.  Am I to assume that the curtain has
fallen on Act Two?"

Celia relaxed slightly.  "Yes, I think you may safely assume so."  Her
calculating smile slowly reappeared.  "Leaving the stage suitably set
for the third and final act:"

CHAPTER TEN

THE LETTER arrived at Green Street that evening.

It was addressed to Miss Charlotte Kingsley, and was slipped under the
door by an unseen hand.  It lay on the floor in the hall, until
Dickens, picking it up and glancing at it rather quizzically, placed it
on the silver salver and took it in to Charlotte in the drawing-room.

"A letter for you, Miss Charlotte," he said.

Charlotte glanced up at her butler in surprise.  "At this time of
night?"

"I found it lying on the floor in the hall, miss," Dickens replied
regretfully.  "I have no idea how it came to be there, nor who
delivered it."

Strange, Charlotte reflected, taking the letter.  Who would call and
not make himself known?  Charlotte looked down at the missive in her
hand. There was no indication who might have sent it.

Curious, she broke the seal and unfolded the single sheet of parchment.
As she quickly scanned the contents, Charlotte's hand began to tremble
as she read the words aloud.

Be warned.  He, whom you thought true, will keep a lovers' rendezvous
in the Park at dawn.

A lovers' rendezvous?

Charlotte read the note again, turning it over in the hopes of gaining
some clue about its origin.  It was printed in block letters so there
was no way of determining whether the writer was male or female.  There
was no address and no signature.  It was simply signed, "a friend."

A friend?  What kind of friend would send a letter like this and not
sign his or her name?

Charlotte stood up, suddenly finding herself too disturbed to remain
seated.  The letter might, " of course, be nothing more than a prank.
Charlotte knew there were enough feeble-minded people who would think
such a lark amusing.  But what if it were not?  What if it had been
sent to her by someone who had learned that her fiance was seeing
another woman?  After all, only she and Devon knew the truth about
their betrothal.  Perhaps Devon had already taken up with someone
behind her back.  Was that the purpose behind the note?  To make
Charlotte believe that her fiance could be unfaithful?  Or to warn her
that he already had been?

Whatever the reason, there was certainly no mistaking the intent behind
the letter.  Someone wanted her to know that Devon was meeting another
woman.  And at the moment, Charlotte had no reason to believe that the
woman would be anyone other than Lady Howard!

THE FIRST PALE PINK fingers of light were just beginning to curl over
the horizon as Charlotte cantered her mare along the leafy green trails
of Hyde Park.  She glanced round the deserted grounds and shivered
slightly under the heavy folds of her cape.  How cold and uninviting
the place seemed.  The ground was heavily coated with dew, and the
dampness in the air seeped through Charlotte's kid gloves.

Still, she hadn't come here for her own pleasure, Charlotte reminded
herself briskly.  She had come to witness a lovers' tryst, and it was
true enough that early morning was the only time such a meeting could
take place.  At the commencement of the fashionable hour, the Park
would be crowded with people anxious to see and be seen.

Turning in the direction of the Serpentine, Charlotte slowed her mare
to a trot, so deep in her own thoughts that she momentarily forgot her
reasons for being there in the first place.  She was remembering how
she and Devon had used to ride along these very paths early in the
morning, racing their horses side by side until almost at the end,
Devon would press his great black stallion for that extra burst of
speed and cross the finish line a nose ahead!  What blissful days those
had been.

But they were gone now, Charlotte acknowledged sadly.  While Devon was
still in her life out of necessity, the trust and the love they had
once shared was not.

"Men!"  Charlotte whispered under her breath.  "What fools we are to
love them, Lady."

The high, unmistakable whinny of a stallion suddenly drew Charlotte's
attention, and she abruptly pulled on the reins, causing Lady to toss
her head in protest.  Guiltily loosening her hold; Charlotte strained
her eyes in the direction of the sound.  It was difficult to pick out
anything in the dim light.

Then, she saw them; a pair of riders Well off in the distance.  They
were almost hidden from view by the low overhanging branches of a large
clump of trees, but there was no mistaking that it was indeed a man and
woman.

The woman was dressed in a long flowing cloak, the hood pulled up over
her head.  The man, whose back was towards Charlotte, wore a
distinctive black, multi-caped coat and a wide-brimmed hat pulled down
low over his eyes.  He rode a black stallion, and sat tall and straight
in the saddle, and even though his face was turned away from her,
Charlotte recognized something painfully familiar in the set of the
powerfully built shoulders.

"Devon?"

Her breath left a misty question in the air, her voice trailing away as
she watched the man lean forward and kiss the woman full upon the lips.
It was a passionate, lingering kiss, and in spite of her obscurity,
Charlotte looked away, feeling herself an intruder in a lovers' tryst.
A tryst between an unknown lady and the man she had been going to
marry!

Glancing back, she was just in time to see the pair draw apart.
Suddenly, the lady's hood suddenly slipped back, revealing features
which could belong to no other.

"Lady Howard!"

Charlotte drew a ragged breath and closed her eyes against the sight of
that face.  She felt the salty sting of tears on her cheeks and the
agonizing pain of betrayal rip through her heart.  She quickly turned
Lady's head around and galloped off in the direction from which she had
come.

She had seen all that she needed to see.  The letter had not been a
fraud.  The man she had been in love with was.

LONG WORTH AND Marwood were preparing for their match when Edward
Kingsley arrived.  Spotting him in the doorway, Longworth grinned and
nudged the earl.

"There you see, Marwood, I told you Kingsley wouldn't frighten that
easily.  Word of your fencing prowess obviously hasn't reached as far
as France.  Morning, Kingsley," Longworth called as Edward approached.
"I hope you've come to take this fellow down a peg or two.  Goodness
knows, someone should."

Edward smiled at Longworth's bantering tone, but shook his head
regretfully.  "I fear we shall have to play another day, gentlemen.  I
need speak with you both."

Longworth sobered as soon as he saw the expression on Kingsley's face.
Beside him, Mar-wood went very still.  "What has happened?"

Edward's eyes flickered around the room.  "Not here.  Your house in
twenty minutes, Lord Marwood."

Nothing more was said.  Edward turned and left at once, Marwood and
Longworth shortly thereafter.  Marwood tried not to think about the
grimness he had glimpsed in Edward's eyes, tried not to remember that
it was the same grimness he'd seen 'in Longworth's just before he had
set off for France.

Shortly gone half-past eleven, the three men stood assembled in
Marwood's library.  "All right, what's this all about?"  Marwood asked
without preamble.

Edward sighed.  "It's not good, I am afraid."  He paused, and glanced
briefly at Longworth.  "The French are on to Lavinia."

Longworth closed his eyes, clenching his fists tightly at his side.
"How did they find her?"

"Osborne isn't sure.  The details are sketchy at best, but it sounds as
if she may have been spotted in a small village near Montcornet.
Thankfully, Lavinia must have realized it herself.  By the time the
French arrived, she was already gone."

"Gone!  But where can she go?"  Longworth muttered.

"Osborne thinks she'll probably head for the coast."

Marwood drummed his fingers on the desk.  "How is she travelling?"

"On horseback'I should imagine."

Longworth blanched.  "She can't make it all the way from Montcornet to
the coast on the back of a bloody horse!"

Edward glanced at Marwood.  "No, she can't, which is why Osborne
contacted me.  One of us has to go to France and get her out."

Longworth stepped forward immediately.  "There isn't any choice to be
made.  I'll go.  This is a personal matter."

"I'm sorry, Nicholas, but you can't," Edward informed him sadly.
"Neither you nor I can.  Osborne has expressly forbidden it."

"Forbidden it!  But he can't."  Longworth was outraged.  "We're talking
about Lavinia's life here!"

"Which is exactly why you cannot go," Mar-wood spoke up quietly.  "You
and Edward were lucky to have escaped with your lives the last time,.
my friend.  I doubt you would be so fortunate again?"

"I fear you are right, Lord Marwood," Edward agreed.  "The orders now
would be to shoot on sight."

Marwood gazed at Edward wi;h sudden comprehension.  "That's why Osborne
contacted you, wasn't it?  To tell the three of us together why it had
to be me."

Edward's sigh conveyed a certain heaviness of heart.  "I wish I could
say it were otherwise, my lord."

Marwood shook his head.  "You don't have to.  When you think about it,
it only makes sense that I go.  Lavinia knows me and I know her, so we
won't have to waste time establishing identities.  And I'm not under
the same suspicion as the two of you," He drew himself up and glanced
at Edward.  "When does Osborne want me to set off?"

"He's expecting you at Whitehall within the hour.  You probably leave
tonight."

Longworth's hand trapped Marwood's arm in an iron grip.  His voice was
hoarse.  "Devon, for God's sake, let me go with you.  If anything were
to happen--"

Marwood shook his head regretfully.  "I can't, Nicholas.  The French
will have men every-where--you know that.  They would recognize you in
an instant."

Longworth hung his head, forced to accept the truth of Marwood's
statement.  But it did not make him happy.  "Let me take you as far as
the coast," he said gruffly.  "At least let me d that much."  '

Marwood nodded.  He knew how hard this was for Longworth.  "I'll bring
her back, Nicholas.  I promise."

Edward cleared his throat.  "What are you going to tell Charlotte?"

Marwood kept his face expressionless.  "I am not going to tell her
anything," he said quietly.  "If everything works out and I manage to
come back with Lavinia, there will be no need for her to know that I
was gone.  She was worded enough about you, Edward.  She doesn't need
to go through it all again because of me.  But there is something I
think it only fair to tell you."  He hesitated, and then quickly made
up his mind.  "Charlotte and I are no longer betrothed."

Edward was stunned.  "Not betrothed?  What are you talking about?
Charlotte has said nothing of this to me."

"No, she hasn't.  Because she didn't want you to know.  Charlotte was
concerned that your homecoming not be overshadowed by news of our own
strife.  We have also been keeping it to ourselves in an attempt not to
overset Miss Harper."

"But what happened?"

Marwood shook his head.  "It really doesn't matter anymore; the damage
has long since been done.  Suffice it to say that Charlotte was not to
blame."

Edward nodded, his eyes fixed keenly on Mar-wood's face.  "Do you still
love her?"

"I never stopped loving her," Marwood said without hesitation.  "It was
my own stupidity which started this sorry state of affairs and my own
jealousy which perpetuated it.  As I said, Charlotte is not in any way
responsible.  However, I leave the decision whether she tells you the
whole of the matter up to her."

Edward sighed, and stared at the man in front of him sadly.  "I
confess, Lord Marwood, I find it difficult to believe what you are
telling me.  I think I know my sister well, and I would be willing to
wager a plum that she is still very much in love with you."

"Love is not the issue here, Edward, trust is.  A trust which I
violated, and which I am violating even now by telling you this.
Charlotte was most adamant that you know nothing of what had gone on
between us."  Marwood glanced at him ruefully.  "The only reason I am
telling you now is because of the mission.  At least if I do not come
back, you will have heard the truth from my own lips."

Edward breathed a heavy sigh.  "I appreciate your candour, Lord
Marwood.  And I am heartily sorry.  This, coming on top of everything
else, cannot be easy for you."

Marwood shrugged.  "Perhaps my going to France will be good for
everyone.  It will give Charlotte some time on her own.  I had intended
to stop by your house and pay my respects to Miss Harper, anyway.  I
shall take the opportunity to speak briefly to Charlotte before I
leave."  He stared into the fire thoughtfully.  "At least I will have
had the chance to say goodbye."

MAR WOOD MET with Osborne within the hour and, as expected, was to
leave that night.  A boat had already been secured to take him across
the Channel.  From there, he would be on his own.

Marwood did not linger on the thought of what lay ahead.  It had never
been his way.  Dwelling on the possibility of what might happen was far
too self-destructive.  Better to deal with the problems as they arose.
He knew there would be dangers, and he knew there was a very good
chance that he or Lady Duplesse might not make it back.  But that did
not stop him from going ahead with the mission.

When Marwood arrived at Green Street, he was shown into the parlour
where Charlotte and Edward reposed in matching wing-backed chairs on
either side of the fireplace, They both looked up at his entrance.

Edward rose immediately.  "Marwood, how are you?"  "Well, thank you,
Kingsley, though I apologize for calling round so late."  He glanced at
Charlotte briefly.  "I was occupied longer than I expected to be this
afternoon."

"No need to apologize.  We were just going in to dinner.  Will you stay
and join us?"

Marwood knew what Edward was asking.  "No, I have plans for the
evening," he said quietly.  "But thank you for the offer.  I just
stopped by to pay my respects to Miss Harper."

Edward nodded.  From the expression on his face, it was evident that he
was not surprised.  He looked at Charlotte, then back towards Devon.
"Right, then I shall take you up.  Charlotte, are you coming?"

Charlotte shook her head.  The sight of Devon standing there had caused
her such intense pain, that it was 'like throwing salt in an open
wound.  "No, thank you, Edward, I think I will stay hem."

Marwood's voice was soft.  "Surely your aunt will want to see the two
of us together."

"I have just been to see my aunt, Lord Mar-wood, and found her very
well," Charlotte lied.  "I advised her a few days ago that you might be
coming to see her and that if you did, I would leave the two of you to
visit in peace."

Marwood stared down at her and sighed.  What would Charlotte say if she
knew he was going away on .a dangerous assignment?  Would she suddenly
look at him through the eyes of love?  Would she run into his arms and
beg him to stay?

He had no way of knowing.  Because he had no intention of changing his
mind and telling her.  He would not use his mission to France as an
excuse to try to jolt Charlotte out of her apathy.  If she did not come
to him of her own volition, there was no point in her coming to him at
all.

"Very welk" Marwood said at last.  "But I hope that I may speak with
you when I come down."

Charlotte said quietly.  "I will be here, Lord Marwood."

Marwood executed a brief, formal bow and then turned to follow Edward
upstairs.  Once he was gone, Charlotte all but collapsed, her composure
deserting her.

She had not expected to see Devon again so soon.  The memory of the
kiss she had witnessed between him and Lady Howard in the Park that
morning had kept playing itself over and over in her mind like a
horrible dream.  She had wanted so much to prove Lady Howard wrong. She
had prayed that the letter had been nothing more than a hoax, and that
the rumours surrounding Lady Howard and her paramour were all lies.

But they were not.  Charlotte could not deny what her eyes had seen,
any more than she could ignore Lady Howard's warnings.  It was clear
that Devon had taken up with his old mistress again, and.  it was only
a matter of time before Society knew.

Rising, Charlotte paced restlessly back and forth, her soft slippers
making no sound on the pale green Aubusson carpet.  She had purposely
kept to her room since returning from Hyde Park, knowing that she would
not be able to face anyone until she had been able to control her
emotions.  And for the most part, she had.  She was no longer shocked,
or angry, or even surprised.  Over the hours, the violence of her
emotions had faded into one dreadful ache.  But that did not make
seeing him now any easier.

A sound in the hall moments later brought Charlotte quickly around. She
paled, her eyes widening in dismay at the sight of Marwood standing
alone in the doorway.  "Where is Edward?"

"He stayed to speak with Miss Harper for a bit."  Marwood walked
forward, unaware of her agitation.  "Your aunt seems much improved."
Charlotte moistened her lower lip.  "Yes, she has ... resorted to her
own medicines again."  She paused, and glanced up at him thoughtfully.
"Is it my imagination, or have you and Edward become quite close?"

"Your brother is a fine man, Charlotte.  It is easy to see why you are
so proud of him."

Charlotte lifted her chin.  "He is an honour-able man, above all."

Marwood detected the censorious note in her voice.  "Are you saying
that !  am not?"

"I am not saying anything, my lord, but after what I learned today, I
think it would be better if we were to tell everyone the truth of our
relationship as quickly as possible."

Marwood hesitated.  "What is it that you have learned?"

"That history has an unfortunate habit of repeating itself."

The earl's eyes glittered dangerously.  "His-' tory?"

"Yes."  Your ... involvement with Lady Howard."

Marwood closed his eyes in exasperation.  "Charlotte, must you keep
bringing that up?  It was a long time ago--"

"Then you did have a liaison with her," Charlotte shot back, "Yes, all
right, I admit it," Marwood shouted, goaded in spite of himself into
response.  "I was involved with Celia in the past, but--"

"And you are involved with her again!"

Marwood stared at her.  "What do you mean?"

"Pray do not take me for a fool, Lord Mar-wood," Charlotte replied, her
resolve strengthened by his audacious denial.  "No wonder you told my
brother you would be late.  After what I saw in the Park this
morning--"

"This morning!"  Marwood repeated blankly.  "What exactly did you see
this morning?"

Charlotte's face glowed, and she hastily turned away.

"Oh, come, Charlotte, now is hardly the time to play the innocent.  If
you did not intend to divulge details, you should not have brought the
subject up," Marwood said harshly.  "Or am I supposed to guess what all
this is about?"

"Spare me your sarcasm, Lord Marwood," Charlotte said tersely.  "You
know very well that I saw you kissing Lady Howard this morning."

Marwood slowly walked back towards her, his eyes boring into hers.  "I
don't know what you are talking about, Charlotte.  I was neither in the
Park, nor anywhere near Lady Howard this morning."

"Please do not lie to me, Lord Marwood!  I saw the two of you
together," she told him angrily.

"I don't know who or what you thought you saw, Charlotte, but it
certainly wasn't me.  And why should it bother you even if it was?"
Devon retaliated.  "You've already told me that there is nothing
between us.  If you don't care for me, why are you so concerned about
my seeing another woman?  If I didn't know better, I would swear you
were still in love with me!"

Charlotte hastily turned away, but not before he had caught a glimpse
of the anguish in her eyes.

"That's it, isn't it, Charlotte.  You do still love me."

Charlotte drew in a sharp breath and whirled round, anger and dismay
reflected in her clear blue eyes.  "You must be mad!"  she whispered.
"I could no more love you than I could--could--"

"Than you could what, Charlotte?"  Marwood taunted her, stepping
closer.  "Than you could hate me?"

"No, I--"

"Go on, say it, Charlotte," Marwood urged, gripping her by the
shoulders and pulling her towards him.  "You could no more love me than
you could hate me!"

Charlotte gasped at the hard strength of his fingers.  "Lord Marwood!"
she began, outraged.  "How dare--"

"No, don't even begin to dare me, Charlotte," Marwood whispered
silkily.  His dark eyes peered: into hers with an intensity that
frightened her.  "You still love me.  If you did not, you wouldn't be
so upset at the thought of my being involved with another woman.  Just
as I was half out of my mind with jealousy over the thought of you
being with another man!"

"It is not the same!"  Charlotte shouted at him.

"It is the same, because you know damn well there's no truth to this
senseless accusation of yours with regard to myself and Lady Howard!"

"It is true!"  Charlotte closed her eyes.  "She told me herself that
you and I weren't happy.  She knew we had broken off our betrothal. 
How would she know that unless you told 'her!  And what about the
letter telling me that the two of you were going to meet in the Park? 
You even told my brother that you were going to be late meeting him!"

"Yes, I did.  Because I had forgotten when I made the appointment with
Edward that I was already scheduled to see my solicitor.  That was why
I had to delay our bout.  But as far as the rest of it goes, I haven't
a clue what you're talking about.  In fact, it seems to me that someone
has gone to a great deal of trouble to make you think that Lady Howard
and I are involved again, and judging by your reaction--" his voice
softened slightly "--the thought of that happening causes you a great
deal of distress."

Charlotte tilted her chin.  "It causes me no distress at all--"

"You're lying."  Devon's words cut right across her denial.  "You are
unhappy about it, and there's only one reason why you would be.  You
still love me.  Do you, Charlotte?"  Mar-wood growled throatily.  "Do
you till love me?"

It would have been so easy to say yes, Charlotte admitted.  To say yes
and then just fall blindly into the warmth of his arms."  To forget all
about her pride and the humiliation this man had caused her.  Here,
now, with that beloved face so close, it would have been so easy to say
the one word which held them apart, to turn her back on her pride and
go to him again.

Yet, even as her body longed for him, Charlotte knew that she could not
do it.  Devon had

LET mRS 'to ^ t.^DV doubted her once; there was absolutely no reason to
think that he would not do so again.

About to fling the angry words back in his face, Charlotte gasped as
Devon gave a sudden, unexpected groan and pulled her into his arms,
silencing her protest with the heat of his mouth.  She felt the
unexpected fire of his hands caressing her shoulders, his fingers
burning into her skin like a red-hot iron.  She trembled, and wrenched
her mouth from his.  "Devon!  Stop!"

Capturing her parted lips under his own, Devon kissed her again with an
intimacy that fanned the slumbering flames of desire into a raging
tire.  She felt the traitorous response of her own body as Devon ran
the softness of his tongue along her lips, slipping inside to taste the
sweetness within.  Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his hand
at her dress, easing the tiny puff sleeve off her left shoulder to
expose the exquisite perfection of one smoothly rounded breast.  She
felt the touch of his mouth searing her skin, the rough caress of his
chin inflaming her senses.  "Devon!"

"Tell me you don't want me now, Charlotte," he murmured, pressing his
lips against the wildly beating pulse at her throat.  "Tell me you
don't want me to love you."

Charlotte felt herself being lowered down onto the settee.  She felt
his weight on top of her, pressing intimately against her until she was
filled a longing she could not even begin to put a name to.  A deep,
dark longing which cried out to be answered.

"Tell me you want me, Charlotte," Devon breathed softly against her
breast.  "Tell me!"

Charlotte arched to his touch, aware that her body was telling him what
her words did not.  The musky, masculine scent of him filled her
nostrils, blinding her to everything but her need, her desire for this
man.

"I love you, Charlotte," Marwood whispered softly, his voice rough with
passion.  "More than I thought possible.  You fill my mind until I
cannot see straight."

Charlotte shook her head, struggling to regain control of her emotions.
"No, this is wrong!"  she cried, fighting to pull herself out of his
arms, away from the chaos of emotions his touch had provoked.  "You do
not ... love me!"  she gasped as his hand reached out to caress her
again.  "And I will not be ... used again!"

It was the anguish in her voice which finally pierced Marwood's driving
passion, and her anger which caused him to stop.  "Used?"

Marwood rose from the settee in one lithe movement.  "Is that what you
consider I have done, Charlotte?  Used you?"

Charlotte swallowed, and pushed herself upright, unsteadily pulling the
fabric of her gown back onto her shoulder.  "What would you have me
call it, sir?  You are obviously using our mock betrothal as a cover-up
for the relationship which now exists between yourself and Lady Howard.
She has already told me--"

"I will listen to no more," he interrupted, in a voice she scarcely
recognized.  "I have humbled myself at your feet twice, and I shall not
do so again.  I have told you that I love you, and have apologized more
than once for my lack of trust.  I have been willing to perpetrate the
charade that is our betrothal for the sake of your family and friends.
And I have sworn to you on my honour that I am not involved with Lady
Howard.  Yet, in spite of everything, you still choose to disbelieve
me.  So be it."

Marwood walked towards the door.  "I will not trouble you again, Miss
Kingsley, nor will you be called upon to act the part of my fiancee.  I
had hoped that I might leave here tonight under considerably different
circumstances, but I see that such is not possible.  Too wide a chasm
separates us now.  One which I fear neither of us will ever be able to
cross.  And for that I am truly sorry.  Goodbye, Charlotte!"

And then, he was gone, the door closing with an unmistakably final
click behind him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LONG WORTH CARRIAGE made good time to the coast.  The horses were
fresh, and the road was clearly illuminated by the silvery light of the
moon.

The two men had not spoken a great deal since setting off from London.
Cognizant of the gravity of the mission, as well as of the dangers
inherent with it, they both understood that there was a good chance the
mission might fail.  But as he studied his friend's averted face in the
semi-darkness of the carriage, Longworth suspected that Marwood's
silence stemmed more from his recent meeting with Charlotte than it did
from anything else

"Rough parting?"  he enquired now.  Marwood looked out through the
carriage window, his gaze focussed somewhere on the moonlit fields
beyond.  The anger he had felt at Charlotte's rejection was already
gone only to leave an unbearable ache.  "I vouch walking into a lion's
den would have garnered me a less savage raking than the one I received
at Charlotte's hands tonight."

Softly spoken as they were, there was no mistaking the pain behind the
words.  "What happened  Longworth asked.

Marwood sighed.  "Quite apart from the fact that I behaved like an
unprincipled boot, Charlotte is possessed of the singularly ridiculous
notion that I am somehow involved with Celia again."  The earl's voice
was distant.  "Says she Saw me kissing her in the Park the other
morning.  At dawn, no less."

"Kissing her!"  Longworth stared, thunderstruck.  "Where the devil
would she get an idea like that?"  .

"I have no idea, and I was too bloody angry at the time to ask."

"Well, you will simply have to enquire when you get back."

Marwood glanced at him cryptically.  "Yes, I shall do that."

They subsided into silence.  A few minutes later, Longworth said
abruptly, "I say, what was Miss Kingsley doing in the Park at dawn,
anyway?  Dashed uncivilized time for a lady to be abroad."

Marwood shook his head.  "Damned if I know.  What does anyone do in
Hyde Park at that time of the day which isn't illegal, immoral or
illicit?"

"Nothing else I can think of," Longworth replied, "which probably means
that Celia was meeting a lover.  But that doesn't explain why Miss
Kingsley was there.  She's not the type to trouble herself with other
people's liaisons."

"No, she isn't.  Unlessw" Marwood drew himself up in the seat, suddenly
remembering Charlotte's brief mention of a letter.  His eyes narrowed
thoughtfully.  "Unless she was led to believe that the man in the Park
that morning would be me."

"You!"  Longworth cocked an eyebrow.  "Why would she think it was you?
More important, who would want to give her such an impression?"

"Someone who might like to drive a wedge between Charlotte and myself."
Marwood glanced at his friend shrewdly.  "Think about it, Nicholas. Who
would enjoy seeing my betrothal to Charlotte come to an end?"

"Apart from Celia herself, I can't think of anyone who--" Nicholas
abruptly broke off, his eyes widening.  "Good Lord, Celia?"

Marwood spread his hands.  "Why not?  She's made no secret of the fact
that she would welcome me back in her bed.  Either that or she wants to
get back at me for my having rejected her."

"Revenge?"  Longworth's brows drew together.  "I say, that's an
interesting notion.  Come to think of it, Celia has been in a devil of
a pucker since you broke off your liaison.  Still, I didn't think she
would stoop this low."

Marwood 'smiled sardonically.  "You know what they say about a woman
spurned."

"Hmm, I am beginning to think they were right," Longworth acknowledged
ruefully.  "Must remember never, to get Lavinia jealous.  It does seem
rather strange, though, Celia trying to break up an engaged couple."

"Maybe she didn't think it would be all that difficult a thing to do,"
Marwood replied.  "Maybe she already knew that Charlotte and I

were having problems."

"Eh?  But how?"

"Unless Charlotte said something, which I doubt, I can only assume that
Celia overheard you and I talking at Lady Wilton's soiree.  I grant
you, Charlotte's behaviour has been less than warm upon occasion, but
it has certainly not been cool enough to warrant anyone's assuming we
were no longer betrothed.  Celia must have known that something was
wrong."

"That would also explain Celia's so-called charitable visit to Miss
Harper.  You yourself intimated that there was probably another reason
for her being at Charlotte's house."

"Yes, I do, and now that you mention it, it was shortly after Celia's
visit that Charlotte began to distance herself from me again."
Mar-wood's eyes darkened fiercely.  "I'll wager Celia dropped a number
of not-so-subtle remarks before she left."

Longworth nodded.  "It would explain a' lot, my friend.  So, what do
you intend to do about it?"

Marwood was silents for a moment.  "There's not very much I can do at
the moment.  Finding Lavinia and getting her safely out of France is my
main concern right now, and will occupy all of my time over the next
little while.  But you can be sure of one thing.  Something will be
done immediately upon my return."  Marwood's voice dropped to a
whisper.  "I told Charlotte it was over between us tonight, that I was
tired of having to vindicate myself in her eyes.  But now I'm beginning
to understand why she has been acting the way she has.  Celia has been
putting doubts into her mind.  And to that end, I intend to pay a visit
to Lady Howard as soon as I get back.  She has some explaining to do,
and I will have the truth from her."  Marwood's face darkened
menacingly.  "If I discover that Celia has been meddling in my affairs,
she is going to be very sorry, indeed!"

SOMEHOW, CHARLOTTE managed not to lose her mind over the next few days.
She went to bed early and rose late, leaving word with Dickens that she
was not at home to anyone who called.  She endeavoured to occupy her
mind with books, but found she could not concentrate.  She took up her
needlepoint and promptly pricked her finger.  Everything she touched
seemed to fall apart, a sad reminder that her life was doing exactly
the same.

Edward watched' his sister go about her daily routine, drifting from
room to room as silently as a ghost, and forced himself not to
interfere.  How could he, when he had no way of knowing whether Marwood
had changed his mind and told Lotte that he was leaving for France, or
whether his sister's preoccupation was of a more personal nature. Until
Charlotte chose to tell him the truth of the matter himself, he could
say nothing.  After all, he had given Marwood his word.

By the evening of the fifth day, however, Edward knew that he could no
longer hold his silence.  Charlotte was heading into a decline.  She
did little more than pick at her food and had taken to avoiding most
social functions.  And while he had initially been torn between his
loyalty to Marwood and his devotion to Charlotte, there was really no
question which was the stronger force.  His sister's health came
first.

He waited until they had retired to the drawing-room before gently
launching into his assault.

"So, Lotte," he began after Dickens set the tea tray next to Charlotte.
"Would you care to tell me what happened between you and Devon last
week?  And please do not try to pretend that you don't know what !  am
talking about."

Charlotte poured milk into her brother's cup and did exactly that.  "In
truth, Edward, I cannot think what you refer to."

"I refer, Lotte, to the fact that you haven't been yourself since the
day Lord Marwood left.  You're not eating, you don't go out, and I
never see you smile anymore."  He watched her carefully, trying to
gauge her reaction.  "Did Lord Marwood say anything to overset you
before he left?"

"No!"

The word sounded loud, even to Charlotte's ears, and she quickly picked
up the teapot, purposely avoiding her brother's questioning gaze.

He had always been able to see far too much when he looked directly
into her eyes.  "Why would you ask?"  she eventually continued in a
more rational tone.

"No reason.  But does it not strike you strange that he has not called
round this week?"

"I assume he has been busy with other matters."

"I see.  And you're sure the two of you did not quarrel?"

"Quarrel?  Of course not, Edward."  Charlotte quickly put the pot down
again, afraid that he might notice how badly her hands were shaking.
"Why would you think such a thing?  In fact, why are you asking me all
these questions?  It is not like you to pry."

Edward put down his cup.  "Because I was not being completely honest
just now, Lotte.  I was trying to find out exactly what was bothering
you."

"But why?"

"Because I know that you have, in fact, ended your betrothal to Lord
Marwood."

Charlotte stared at her brother in shock.  "How did you know that?" 
Her brows drew together in dismay.  "Did Laura tell you?"

"No, Laura has said nothing."  Edward hesitated.  Then, plunging ahead
he said, "Marwood told me himself.  He thought it wise... under the
circumstances."

"He had no right to tell you, Edward.  We agreed that--" She halted
abruptly.  "What circumstances?"

"The circumstances that he... might not come back."

"Not come back?"  Charlotte shook her head in confusion.  "What are you
talking about, Edward, why would he not come back?  Where has he
gone?"

There was a slight pause.  "He didn't tell you, then."

It was not really a question, and Charlotte felt her heart turn over.
"Tell me what?"

Edward rose and walked towards the window.  "I don't know that I have
the right to tell you, Lotte.  Obviously, Marwood did not want you to
know."

"Know what?"  Charlotte got to her feet and followed him.  "Edward,
tell me.  What did Devon not want me to know?"

Edward turned round and gazed into his sister's face.  There was no
mistaking the fear he saw there.  "Marwood has gone to France," he told
her softly.  "He left right after seeing you the other night."

"What?"

Edward heard the panic in his sister's voice but knew it was too late
to stop now.  She had to be told.  "Lord Longworth was waiting to take
him to the coast.  From there, Marwood was to board a ship bound for
Calais."

"Calais?  But why?  What manner of personal business could Devon have
in France?"

"None.  He has gone under orders from Lord Osborne."

Charlotte stared at her brother in disbelief.  "But I thought Lord
Osborne was your commanding officer.  He came here to see you.  He
never mentioned anything about Devon."

Edward smiled sadly.  "He would have no reason to, Lotte.  Osborne is
hardly going to disclose the names of his agents, even to the sister of
one of them.  You wouldn't have known Longworth was involved if it
hadn't been for our own close association."

"Good Lord."  Charlotte fixed him with a wide-eyed stare.  "Are you
telling me that all three of you were ... that is, are.  spies for the
Crown?"

Edward nodded.  "Longworth and I are still on active service.  Marwood
retired when he succeeded to the title."

"But I don't understand," Charlotte said weakly.  "If Devon was
retired, why did he go to France now?  Why did Lord Osborne call him
back?"

"To carry out a mission neither Longworth nor myself could undertake.
Osborne refused to allow either of us to go back into France.  He knew
it would be too dangerous."

"But why Devon?"  Charlotte repeated, her voice an anguished murmur.
"Surely there was someone else who could have gone?"

Her brother shook his head.  "No one of Mar-wood's calibre, I'm afraid,
and this mission was far too dangerous to entrust to just anyone.  Too
much is at stake."

Charlotte was seized by a chill of apprehension.  "What exactly has
Devon gone to do?"

"To rescue an agent we have been trying to get out of France for some
time now.  A lady who is in very great danger of losing her life."

"A lady?  Dear God!"  Charlotte whispered.  "Edward, please, for pity's
sake, tell me what is going on."

"Sit down, Charlotte."  Edward took a deep breath.  "I fear this is not
going to be an easy story to tell."

And it wasn't.  By the time Edward finished, Charlotte's head was
spinning.

"But why did he not tell me?"  Charlotte uttered in a strangled voice.
"We had that silly fight--we both said things we shouldn't.  What if he
doesn't come back?"

"He knew the risks before he accepted the mission, Charlotte.  And the
reason he did not tell you was because he loved you.  He didn't want
you to worry."  Charlotte tensed, her eyes lifting to his face.  "He
said that?"

"Yes.  Just after he told me that you were no longer betrothed and that
it was as a result of something he had done."

Charlotte winced.  "Did he tell you what it Was?"  '

"No.  He left the decision to tell me up to you.  He did say, however,
that it had something to do with trust and that you were not in any way
responsible."

A wave of guilt washed over Charlotte and she closed her eyes, choking
back a sob.  "He didn't tell you the truth, Edward.  He should have
told you that I was just as much to blame.  Maybe more.  I wouldn't
forgive him.  He tried to apologize, but I was too proud to listen. Oh,
Teddy, what am I going to do?"  Charlotte hastily blinked back tears. 
"When I think of what I said to him before he left ... what I accused
him of..."

Edward slanted her a wary glance.  "You accused him of something?"

Charlotte clasped her hands together in her lap, aware that they were
trembling badly.  "I thought that he and Lady Howard were... having an
affair."

"An affair!  With Lady Howard?  Good Lord, Lotte."  Edward was clearly
taken aback by the remark.  "Whatever would have made you think such a
thing?  Marwood is an honourable gentleman.  He would never conduct
himself in such a manner."

"I hadn't thought he would, but after everything Lady Howard told me, I
began to wonder.  And then when I received the letter--"

"A letter?"  Edward glanced at her sharply.  "From whom?"

"I don't know.  There was no signature."  "Was it from a man or a
woman?"

"I don't know," Charlotte repeated numbly.  "It was ... printed in
block letters.  I could not tell."

"What did it say?"

"It insinuated that Devon would meet a lady in the Park at dawn.  That
it was--" Charlotte's gaze slid away from his "--a lovers' meeting."
"And you believed it?"

"I saw no reason not to," Charlotte shot back, hurt.  "Lady Howard had
made no secret of the fact that she wanted Devon back.  She even went
so far as to tell me that he already had come back to her, and that
since our betrothal was at an end, I might as well let him go.  How
could she have known that Devon and I were no longer affianced if Devon
didn't tell her?"

"I don't know."  Edward's eyes narrowed.  "What about this letter?  Did
you go to the Park?"

Charlotte veiled her eyes with her lashes.  "Yes."

"And did you see Lady Howard with Mar-wood?"

"Yes."

Edward leaned forward.  "Are you sure it was Marwood?"

"I did not see his face," Charlotte admitted, "but it looked exactly
like him.  He was wearing Devon's black coat, and riding a black
stallion just like Emperor.  Who else could it have been?"

"Any number of gentlemen, I should think," Edward muttered.  "Lady
Howard is a very devious woman, Charlotte, and a jealous one.  If, as
you say, she knew that you and Marwood were having problems, she
wouldn't think twice about using that information to her own advantage.
No doubt she set up the rendezvous to look like a lovers' tryst and
then sent you an anonymous letter to make sure you would be there to
witness it.  I'd venture to say the gentleman with her in the Park that
morning knew about the subterfuge and was a party to it."

Charlotte sat up.  "Then the letter was a hoax."

"I am inclined to think so," Edward said, "though Lady Howard is not
likely to admit it.  For that reason, I think you had best make it very
clear the next time you see her that you and Marwood are still very
much betrothed.  It may just provoke her into saying something out of
hand."

Charlotte nodded, her eyes darkening with anger.  "I suspect the
opportunity will present itself at Lady Rowallayne's ball tomorrow
evening.  I am sure Lady Howard will be attending, and so shall we."
She glanced at her brother quickly.  "I hope you have not forgotten
your promise to accompany me, Teddy."

"I hadn't forgotten, nor am I about to renege on my commitment," Edward
told her drily.  "I may need to be there to stop you and Lady Howard
coming to blows!"

LADY ROWALLAYNE'S ballroom was a glittering mass of silks and taffetas
by the time Charlotte and Edward arrived.  People were standing and
chatting in every corner of the room and overflowing onto the balcony
through the open French doors.  The air was scented with the delicate
fragrance of the ladies' perfumes and the sweet smell of
flowers--thousands of them were banked along the length of the room and
set in bunches throughout the antechambers.

At the entrance to the ballroom, Charlotte paused to gaze out over the
huge crowd.  She looked stunning in a gown of ice blue silk over an
under slip of silver lace, with tiny puffed sleeves embroidered with
fine silver thread.  Her dark hair was arranged in an elegant cluster
of curls drawn high atop her head and held in place by two diamond
clips.  Her lovely features were pale but composed, thanks to Edward's
presence beside her.

It had taken Charlotte a long time to come to terms with the knowledge
that Devon might not return from France.  While Edward had related the
details as briefly and as painlessly as possible, there was no
disguising the fact that the assignment was extremely dangerous.

It was the threat to Devon's life Which had succeeded in stripping away
all Charlotte's doubts and insecurities, finally forcing her to admit
that it was her own stubborn pride which had prevented her from
forgiving him; the same stubbornness which had not allowed her to see
that jealousy had caused Devon to misinterpret Edward's letter.

Edward felt the unconscious pressure of Charlotte's fingers on his arm
and looked at her, sensing her anxiety.  "Lotte, are you going to be
all right?"  .

Charlotte took a deep breath, and then nodded.  Her mouth was dry, her
lips curVed in a stiff smile.  "I shall be fine, Teddy.  I am just so
very afraid for him."

Her voice broke unexpectedly, and Edward put his hand over hers in a
reassuring gesture.  "He'll be fine, Lotte, trust me.  Marwood is one
of the best.  Osborne wouldn't have sent him to do the job if he hadn't
thought he could handle it.  Besides," he added with a brief laugh,
"there is more than just England's safety at stake here.  I understand
Marwood undertook this as a personal favour to Longworth."

Charlotte looked up at him in surprise.  "But what has this to do with
Lord Longworth?"

"A great deal, when you consider that Nicholas is very much in love
with the lady Devon has gone to rescue.  Right," Edward said, bracing
himself.  "Let's get on with this, shall we?"

Arm in arm, Edward and Charlotte descended the long staircase and made
their way into the crowded room, nodding and smiling at acquaintances.
As it was Edward's first really large Society gathering, it was hardly
surprising that he attracted attention, particularly the attention of
those matchmaking matrons with marriageable daughters.  The advent of
any good-looking, eligible gentleman would garner notice; the fact that
Edward was a hero only added to his cachet.

It soon became clear, however, that Edward's attention was already
fixed on one particular young lady, and as soon as Charlotte spotted
Laura chatting with Lord Dreighton, they made directly for her side.

Charlotte forced a gaiety into her tone she was far from feeling. "Good
evening, Laura, Lord Dreighton."

Laura turned towards the newcomers, her own face brightening.  "Oh,
Charlotte, how' very pleased I am to see you.  And Mr.  KingsleY.  I
thought after the other afternoon you might have decided to avoid
Society altogether."

"The idea had crossed my mind, but "I did promise Charlotte that I
would escort her this evening."  Edward smiled a greeting to the other
man.  "How are you, Lord Dreighton?"

"Can't complain, Kingsley, can't complain.

Good to see you home again.  And Miss Kingsley, may I say that you are
looking quite the thing.  Where is your handsome fiance this
evening?"

Charlotte faltered, leaving Edward to step in.  "I fear Lord Marwood
had to head up to the country for a bit, Lord Dreighton.  Matters
con-ceming the estate."

"Dear me, that little problem again.  Pity he doesn't get a decent
steward up there to manage things.  Would save him all this dashed
running back and forth."

"Save who all this running back and forth, Lord Dreighton?"  Lady
HoWard said, gliding up to their group.

Charlotte tensed at the sound of the silky, feminine voice, and steeled
herself for the confrontation.  She had known it was only a matter of
time before Lady Howard sought her out.  Feeling that she had wounded
her prey, Lady Howard was no doubt intending to close in for the kill.
Little did she know, that the tables had abruptly been turned.

Charlotte smiled politely.  "We were talking about my fiance, Lady
Howard."

"Really."  Celia glanced around the room with interest.  "And where is
the dashing earl this evening, Miss Kingsley?  Surely you have not come
without him yet again?"

Charlotte flushed, but refused to be drawn, "Unfortunately, Lord
Marwood was called away to attend to some problems in the country,
which is why Lord Dreighton was commenting that he required a good
steward."

"I see.  How convenient."  Celia turned to regard the elderly peer, and
laughed mockingly.  "Does it not strike you a little strange, Lord
Dreighton, that Miss Kingsley is more often without her fiance than
with him?"

Lord Dreighton looked thoughtful.  "Can't say that it surprises me
unduly, Lady Howard.  The earl's a busy man.  Probably hasn't much time
for all these sOCiety gatherings."

Lady Howard's smile flashed thinly.  "No, perhaps he hasn't.  As you
say, always busy doing one thing ... or another."

Charlotte stiffened.  Beside her, Edward smiled laconically.  "Speaking
of absent loved ones, where is Lord Howard this evening, Lady Howard?
Is he perhaps indisposed?"

Celia's smile did not quite reach her cold green eyes.  "On the
contrary, Mr.  Kingsley, my husband's health is excellent.  He is
simply not a devotee of affairs of this nature, and as I am just as
happy to attend on my own, it makes for a mutually satisfactory
arrangement."

"Well, I'm sure you do not lack for company at any of these... affairs,
Lady Howard," Charlotte said bluntly.

Celia flushed unbecomingly.  "I would be careful about your comments,
Miss Kingsley.  I thought, perhaps, that there might be another reason
for Lord Marwood's absence this evening, if you take my meaning."

Mindful of Edward's eyes upon on her, Charlotte replied with admirable
poise, "I cannot imagine why you would think so, Lady Howard.  If Lord
Marwood were in London, he would certainly be with me.  My fiance and I
are eager to spend as much time together as possible, especially now
the the date for the wedding has been established."

Charlotte was pleased to see Lady Howard's composure slip.  "You have
... set the date?"

"Yes.  Devon and I discussed it before he left for the country.  We
both decided that there was no point in waiting any longer.  As you can
imagine, I await his return with great pleasure."

Lady Howard's countenance darkened.  "Yes, I am sure you dO."  She
glanced at Edward suspiciously.  "And are you also happy the date has
been set, Mr.  Kingsley?"

Edward's reply was as Smooth as glass.  "I await the day with great
impatience, Lady Howard.  I'm sure you can imagine how delighted I am
with the match.  I told Lord Marwood as much before he left."

"You told him that?"  Celia turned an unbecoming shade of grey. "Excuse
me."

Lord Dreighton watched her go.  "Lady Howard seems a trifle out of curl
this evening, don't you think, Miss Kingsley?"

Charlotte opened her fan.  "I cannot say that I noticed, Lord
Dreighton.  Did you, Edward?"

Edward shook his head and smiled down at her proudly.  "Can't say that
!  did, Lotte.  Can't say that I did."

THE REST OF THE EVENING seemed interminable.

Charlotte danced, she chatted, she offered the appropriate responses
where required and tried to act as though her heart and her thoughts
were not a hundred miles away in the French countryside.

Thankfully, Lady Howard did not resume her attack.  Charlotte felt the
daggers of the woman' s glances a few times throughout the evening, but
was not troubled by anything beyond that.  No doubt the she-wolf was
lying low, licking her wounds.  She had not been able to inflict the in
jury she had intended to, and was.  now left to try to fathom exactly
how things stood between the elusive Marwood and his fiancte.

Charlotte took care to maintain her appearance of tranquillity well
into the evening.  She did not display, by word or action, that Lady
Howard's continued surveillance gave her the slightest cause for
concern.  She was growing more and more convinced that Edward had been
right, that Lady Howard had been lying to her all along in an attempt
to make her doubt Devon.

By midnight, however, the strain of the deception finally began to take
its toll.  She was having trouble concentrating, and more than once had
to be recalled to attention.  From across the room, Edward noticed his
sister's increasing distraction and leisurely made his way to her
side.

"Lotte," he said, casually drawing her aside, "you look about ready to
scream."

"I'm afraid I shall if I have to answer one more question about Devon's
whereabouts, and when we are to be married.  I don't know that can
carry on much longer.,

"Perhaps we should leave?"

Charlotte sighed.  "I should dearly love to, but I fear it is a little
early."

"I don't know why."  Edward's gaze took in the drooping flowers-and the
long trails of wax on the candles.  "Surely we have been here long
enough to appease Society."

Charlotte smiled wistfully.  "Society is a hard mistress, Edward.  You
must take pains to please her or she will.  come back at you in anger
tenfold."

"Then why don't you slip upstairs for a few minutes," Edward suggested
quietly.  "I'm sure no one will notice your absence.  Lord knows it
would be impossible to tell who's here and who 'isn't.  Besides, I
haven't seen hide n r hair of Lady Howard in the past ten minutes, so
she's not likely to miss you, either.  Laura and I will make any
excuses necessary."

"Laura?"  In spite of her weariness, Charlotte couldn't resist giving
her brother a teasing look.  "Is that not being a little familiar,
Teddy?"

"I meant Miss Beaufort, and never mind smiling at me like that, Lotte.
It was an inadvertent slip."

Charlotte quickly bit back her retort.  "Bless you, Teddy.  I don't
know what-I would do without you.  And yes, I think I could use a few
minutes alone."

Taking a casual look round, Charlotte started towards the door,
slipping out of the ballroom and making her way up the stairs.  She
decided against going to the ladies' withdrawing-room, fearing the
possibility of running into Lady Howard, and turned left at the top of
the stairs instead of right.  She paused at the first door she came
to.

Glancing down the length of the deserted hall, Charlotte leaned her ear
against the door and then cautiously pushed it open.  Fortunately, her
stealth was not necessary.  The music room was empty, its only
occupants a beautifully lacquered harpsichord and a fine Welsh harp
which stood on an elevated platform in front of the window.

Breathing a thankful-sigh, Charlotte slipped inside and closed the door
behind her.  Abruptly, all sounds of the ball disappeared, leaving her
in blessed silence.  She was finally to be granted a few moments of
peace.

The smile faded from her face as thoughts of Devon rushed back in,
filling her mind with worry..  Unanswered questions flew in and out
like pigeons to a rookery.  Had Devon found the lady he was seeking?
Had they managed to get to the coast undetected.  Where they still
alive?  Did Devon still love her?

Charlotte closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the edge of
the harp.  She had never suffered such uncertainty.  She had to believe
that Devon was safe.  How could she go on if he were not?  There was so
much that had to be set right between them, so many words that needed
to be said.  He had to come back so that she could say them.  He had
to!

A gentle evening breeze suddenly stirred the curtains and wafted in
through the open window.  It teased the wispy tendrils of hair around
Charlotte's face, cooling her 'overheated cheeks.  It also blew in the
conversation of the two people standing in the shadows of the balcony
directly below.

"So, where is he tonight?"  Charlotte heard a man say gruffly.  "Do you
think your plan has finally worked?"

The woman's laugh was uncertain.  "I don't know.  I thought it had when
he didn't come in with Miss Kingsley, but now "I am not so sure.  It
would appear that Marwood's absence stems from nothing more serious
than a visit to the country."  '

Charlotte gasped, and then froze in shocked silence.  Lady Howard and
Lord Barrymore were below!

"What about Miss Kingsley?"  BarrY more continued, completely unaware
of Charlotte's presence above.

"I don't know.  Either she's a very good actress, or I misjudged the
situation.  The little ninny hammer took great delight in telling me
that she and Marwood had set the date, and that she was missing him
dreadfully."

Barrymore chuckled.  "Sounds as if you may have been wasting your time,
Celia.  Perhaps the relationship wasn't as shaky as you thought."

"I know what I heard," Celia snapped.  "That night at Lady WiltonZs
soirfe, I distinctly heard Lord LOng worth say that Charlotte had ended
the betrothal.  Why do you think I started this whole game in the first
place?"

"Well, obviously your little ruse in Hyde Park didn't work," Barrymore
observed cryptically.  "Miss Kingsley would hardly be talking about
wedding dates now if it had."

"I can't understand what went wrong.  She must have believed the letter
you sent.  She was there.  I saw her."

Charlotte heard the anger in Lady Howard's voice, but knew her words
were laced with desperation.  Barrymore, however, was obviously a good
deal more complacent about the whole thing.  "Perhaps she recognized me
and realized it was a trick," he said.

"How could she have recognized you?  I barely did, and I was standing
right there!"

"Yes, you were, and I enjoyed that kiss very much."  Barrymore's voice
turned suddenly husky.  "Speaking of which, when am I going to get the
rest of my payment for helping you with this, my sweet Celia?"

Charlotte heard the sounds of a scuffle, and then a dull thud.

"Oof!  What did you hit me for?"  Barrytnore groaned.  "You didn't stop
me the last time--"

"I fear I have changed my mind since the last time, Lord Barrymore."
Lady Howard's voice was not in the least romantic.  "It would seem that
you are not as necessary as I had anticipated."

The bickering carried on, but Charlotte did not stop to listen.  She
had already heard all that she needed to.  In one brief conversation,
all her questions had been answered.  "Forgive me, Devon, forgive me,"
Charlotte whispered fervently.

Abruptly, she turned and fled the music room.  She had to get back to
the ballroom.  She had to find Edward as quickly as possible to tell
him that Lady Howard had indeed been playing a devious game, and that
he had been right in his suspicions.  If only she had been as wise!

Fortunately, Charlotte did not have far to look.  Edward was standing
at the entrance to the grand-ballroom, slightly apart from the crowd.

In her excitement, she failed to notice the gentleman standing beside
him.

"Edward, you will never guess what I have just heard.  You were right
about Lady--"

Charlotte's words came to an abrupt halt as she realized that Lord
Longworth was standing with her brother.  Her stomach knotted as she
saw the expressions on both men's faces.  "What has happened?"

Neither man spoke.  "Edward, please tell me!  Have you had some news?
Is Devon back?"

Edward's eyes were dark with grief.  "I'm sorry, Lotte, the news isn't
good.  Nicholas has just come from Lord Osborne."

His voice broke.  Charlotte forced herself to ask the question.
"And?"

"Apparently, the ship which was to have brought Devon and Lavinia back
landed hours ago."

Was to have brought back?  Charlotte fought to stem the rising tide of
nausea.  "And?"

Longworth shook his head sadly.  "We don't know what happened, Miss
Kingsley.  Apparently, the captain waited as long as he could.  Marwood
and Lavinia ... never made the rendezvous."  '

CHAPTER TWELVE

NEVER MADE THE RENDEZVOUS

Charlotte sat up in bed, slowly sipping the strange tasting herbal tea
Aunt Kittie had made for her, and tried not to hear the words which
kept running round and round her head.

The captain waited as long as he.  could.

She remembered Nicholas Longworth's uttering those words as distinctly
as though it were only last night.  Except that it wasn't last night.
It was more than two weeks ago.  And in those two weeks there had been
no news about Devon.

Charlotte took another sip of the lukewarm tea and stared into the
darkened fireplace.  She remembered little of what had happened after
Longworth had spoken those fateful words.  She knew that Edward had
brought her home and that he had left again almost immediately.  She
knew that Anna had helped her to undress and that she had crawled into
bed, numb with fear and shock.  And she knew that, once started, the
tears had not stopped falling until there were no more left to cry.

She had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep.  The next morning she
awoke, red-eyed and groggy, knowing that the pain of Devon's
disappearance was still with her.  Until he returned, it would remain
with her.

EDWARD WAS already at the breakfast table when Charlotte finally came
down.  She was dressed in a becoming azure blue morning gown, its deep
colour making her pale skin appear even more translucent so that her
eyes seemed almost too large for her face.  "Good morning, Teddy,"

Edward started, and glanced up at her in surprise.  "Lotte!  I didn't
even hear you come in.  I swear, you're as bad as !  am."

Charlotte smiled wanly, and signalled Dickens to bring a fresh pot of
coffee.  "Education by example, I suppose.  Is Aunt Kittie down yet?"

"Mmm, I think I saw her heading towards the back kitchen about half an
hour ago."  Edward gave a short laugh.  "Ever since Dr.  Palfrey told
her she could get up and start moving about, there's been no stopping
her.  In fact, I think she is trying to make up for lost time.  She
mentioned something about a tonic for Lady Bering.  Said she wanted to
see you after breakfast, if you haven't anything planned."

"I haven't," Charlotte helped herself to a small serving of toast and
eggs from the well laden sideboard, not because she was hungry, but
because she knew Edward would scold if she didn't.  "I am so relieved
that.  Aunt Kittie is feeling better."

"Yes, so are the ladies of the ton, I understand," Edward commented
wryly.  He shot Charlotte a concerned glance, trying not to be alarmed
by the sight of the violet smudges beneath her eyes.  "What about you,
Lotte?  Did you sleep any better last night?"

"Yes, much better, thank you, Teddy," Charlotte lied.  She sat down
across from him and shook out her napkin.  "It must have been Aunt
Kittie's tea.  But tell me, how was your drive with Laura yesterday
afternoon?  She did not say too much about it when I saw her last
evening."

At the slow, tender smile which curved Edward's mouth, Charlotte felt a
momentary lessening of her own unhappiness..  "Oh, Teddy, I am glad.
You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Edward's smooth cheeks reddened.  "That obvious, is it?"

"Only to me."  Charlotte's soft laughter flowed gently across the space
between them.

"Your face gives you away, I'm afraid.  Are you going to marry her?"

"If she will have me."  Edward glanced at his sister, and then ruffled
her hair fondly.  "I never could fool you, could I, poppet?"

"We could never fool one another," Charlotte corrected him.  She busied
herself with buttering her toast.  "I have no doubt that my own
emotions are ... equally apparent."

Edward took a sip of his coffee, and studied his sister.  "Charlotte, I
hope you won't think I am pryirg," he began slowly, "but what started
all this in the first place?  The mix up regarding your betrothal, I
mean.  What exactly did Lord Marwood do that was so bad?"

Charlotte could not prevent the sudden surge of colour to her cheeks.
"Oh, dear, I was afraid you were going to ask that sooner or.  later.
And you will probably laugh at me when I tell you, in light of
everything that has gone on with Lady Howard."  Charlotte paused, and
took a deep breath.  "Lord Marwood thought I was.., involved with
another man."

Edward gazed at his sister in astonishment.  "I beg your pardon.  Did
you say ... another man?"

Charlotte smiled weakly.  "He thought it was you?"  "Me?"  Edward
stared into her face.  "I... was the other gentleman?  Egad, Charlotte,
I fear you have lost me this time.  Would you care to explain what this
is all about?"

The recounting of the story took a good deal of time, but Charlotte
knew it was necessary.  She told Edward, in as much detail as she
could, what had precipitated the unlikely chain of events which had
lead to the quarrel, including the fact that Edward's letter had
unfortunately been the first link in the chain.

"I never would have believed it possible," EdWard expostulated.
"Jealous of your own brother?"

"Yes, I confess it took me rather by surprise, too," Charlotte admitted
quietly.

"But Marwood must have known you better than that."  Edward's gaze was
frankly curious, "Surely he knew that you were not flirtatious by
nature."

"Of course he knew it, Teddy, but he was jealous, pure and simple.  You
have to remember that Devon didn't know you were my brother that first
time he saw us in the garden.  He didn't even know that I had a
brother.  He simply found a letter that was signed, "my love always,
Edward," and then right on top of it, saw you and I embracing.  It's
hardly surprising that he would jump to the wrong conclusion.  I did,
and on far less substantial evidence," Charlotte admitted sadly.  "On
the strength of a flimsy letter and a jealous woman's lies, I believed
she was his mistress.  The problem was, I was too proud to forgive him,
even after he tried to explain the truth of the matter to me.  And now
that he's gone, it's too late."  She bravely blinked back tears. 
"Would that I had the chance to tell him how sorry I am."

"Now, Charlotte, you mustn't say that it is too late.  We don't know
that anything has happened to him," Edward said gently.  "Look how long
it took Osborne to get me out of France.  You can't give up hope
yet."

Charlotte nodded but refrained from commenting.  She was all too
painfully aware of having been in this position once before.

After breakfast, Charlotte wrapped a lacy white shawl around her
shoulders and went in search of her aunt Who, much to Dr.  Palfrey's
chagrin, was back to making her concoctions2 She found her in the back
kitchen, surrounded by a wondrous assortment of bottles and jars,
little packages of dried herbs and of course, the ubiquitous Culpeper
herbal.

"Good morning, Aunt Kittie."

Aunt Kittie glanced up from the packet of fenugreek she was labelling.
"Charlotte, my dear, good morning."  She came round the table to give
her niece a kiss.  "Are you feeling well?"

"Better, thank you, Aunt.  Edward mentioned--"

"Did you take the camomile tea I sent up last night?"

"Yes, Aunt Kittie.  He said--"

"Good."  And the herbal tea this morning?  Did you drink it all?"

Charlotte sighed.  There was obviously no point in trying to proceed
until her aunt had finished her interrogation.  "Yes, Aunt Kittie, I
drank every last drop, in spite of the rather strange taste."

"Never mind the taste.  I put a drop of ginger tonic in it."  Aunt
Kittie cast a somewhat disturbed eye over her niece's too-slender
figure.

"Edward tells me you haven't been eating."  "Of course I have been
eating."

"Not enough.  Mrs.  Bramble is most concerned about the amount of food
you are sending back to the kitchen."

"Edward told me that you wanted to see me," Charlotte said,
pointedly.

Recognizing the tone of voice, Aunt Kittie wisely decided not to
belabour the point.  "Yes, well, I wonder if you would be a dear and
fetch some peppermint for me.  Palfrey has told me that I am not to go
outside until I clear up this little bit of congestion, but poor Lady
Bering has been having some problems with 'her wind."  Aunt Kittie
chuckled.  "Has been for years, but this is the first time she's
admitted it.  She's asked me to make her a tonic, but I have no
peppermint at all.  I think it is down by the--"

Charlotte smiled and turned towards the door.  "That's all right, Aunt,
I know where it is."

Charlotte picked up her basket and headed into the garden.  The
mornings were getting cooler now, reminding everyone that summer was
coming to an end and that autumn would soon be Upon them.  She drew the
cloak closer about her, shivering slightly.

What was Devon doing now?

She knew that Edward and Lord Longworth were in constant contact with
Lord Osborne.  She was also aware that the war department had sent
another two men across to France in an effort to find Devon and Lady
Duplesse, but all to no avail.  The two men had managed to get back to
England.  Devon and Lavinia had not.

Locating the peppermint, Charlotte bent over her work, trying not to
remember the angry words she had flung at Devon the last time they had
been together.  She endeavoured to forget the pain in his eyes and the
anguish in his voice just before he had stormed out of the room.

Instead, she tried to remember that it was hope which had brought
Edward home.  A hope which had never faltered, no matter how bad things
had become.  Perhaps if she wished hard enough, hope would bring Devon
back to her.  Hope, and love.

When Charlotte had picked all the peppermint required, she started back
up the path.  Unbidden, her eyes' went to the stone bench, and she
paused, remembering the last time she had sat upon it.  Suddenly, she
was assailed by a wave of longing so intense that it brought an almost
physical pain with it.  She numbly moved towards the bench, recalling
the way Devon had drawn her to it that day and proposed.  She couldn't
help but remember the way he had held her in his arms and kissed her,
awakening a passion she had never thought to feel.

Charlotte sat down and pulled the cloak closer about her.  She felt the
damp coldness through her thin gown.  The wind was picking up.  Leaves
swirled down and fell around her, settling like amber and russet jewels
on a bed of green velvet.

She closed her eyes, and went back in her mind, remembering it all
rathe touch of his hands, the sound of his voice... "Charlotte?"

She smiled.  The voice in her dreams was so much like Devon's that the
warmth of it flowed through her body like healing medicine.  She willed
the dream nearer, hugging it close to her.

"Open your eyes, Charlotte," the voice on the wind urged softly.

Charlotte felt her heart begin to pound.  That was no dream, nor was it
the wind.  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.  "Spirit of the wind, do
not tease me like this.  If you are here, speak quickly, and say the
words I long to hear."

"Open your eyes, my love.  "Tis no wind sprite you hear, nor figment of
your imagination you see;"

Charlotte's eyes blinked open 'and she gasped.  He was there in front
of her, smiling down into her face, his beloved, familiar features a
little haggard, but he was.  blessedly safe.

Charlotte did not even try to hide her tears.  They flowed freely down
her cheeks as she flew into Devon's arms, feeling the strength of his
embrace drawing her close, pulling her against his heart.

There was no need for words; she told him all he needed to know with
her eyes, with her hands and with her lips.

SOMETIME LATER, Devon sat on the stone bench with the woman he loved on
his lap, and breathed a sigh of deep and utter contentment. 
Charlotte's dark hair flowed like water down her back, loosed from its
pins by his searching fingers.  He buried his hands in it now, loving
the feel of the silky stuff against his skin.

She stirred happily in his arms.  "I thought I had lost you," Charlotte
whispered, her lips against the pulse in his throat.  "I was so
terribly afraid that I had lost you.,

Devon smiled and hugged her closer.  "I know, my sweet, and you will
never know how sorry I am.  I never meant to frighten you."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth before you left?"  Charlotte asked
softly.  "After you had left ... and Edward told me, all I could think
about was the horrible way in which we parted--the terrible things I
said"

Devon pressed his finger against her lips.  "Hush, Charlotte, there's'
no need to talk about that anymore.  It's all over now.  You're in my
arms where you belong and everyone is safe."  Charlotte looked up into
his eyes.  "Madame ' Duplesse, too?"

Devon nodded, and brushed a kiss against her hair.  "Yes, thank God,
though there were times enough when I wondered whether she would remain
that way."

Charlotte closed her eyes, unwilling to think about the dangers he had
encountered.  "How did you find her?"

"Through contacts.  I still keep in touch with people throughout the
countryside.  They kept me pretty much informed as to Lavinia's
whereabouts and eventually I was able to track her down."

Charlotte shuddered.  "Poor woman.  She must have been terrified."

"She was, but fortunately she is also very brave and resourceful.
Lavinia tdld me that once she realized she had been spotted in the
village, she started to head south, assuming that BOney's men would
think she was making for the coast.  That was what took me so long to
find her.  I had to travel much farther inland than I expected.  Once I
did locate her, I sent word to the captain of the ship that we would be
at the coast by nightfall.  Unfortunately, when the French discovered
our whereabouts I was forced to change our plans."

Charlotte ran her fingers gently over his face.  "How did you get
across the Channel?"

"By a stroke of incredible good luck.  The captain sent word to a
friend of his down the coast that an Englishman and his lady would be
arriving within the next few days and to keep an eye out for them.  I
left Lavinia with some people I knew I could trust and then headed up
Oto the coast at Etretat, garbed as a fisherman looking for work.  I
fully expected to have to scratch out whatever' arrangement I could.
That's when I discovered Gaston already waiting for us."

Charlotte's eyes revealed her concern.  "But how did you know that you
could trust him, Devon?  It might have been a trap."

"Yes, it might have been," he agreed, "but I've learned to trust my
feelings over the years, Charlotte.  Call it instinct, if you like.  At
any rate, we arranged a sailing time and then I went back and got
Lavinia.  We left France that night."

"And where is Madame Duplesse now?"  Marwood chuckled warmly. 
"Enjoying a reunion with Lord Long wOrth not unlike this one, I should
think."

Charlotte glanced up into his dark eyes, and groaned.  "Oh, Devon, I
have been such an idiot.  I doubted you when I had no reason to.  Can
you ever forgive me for my own lack of trust?"

"I can forgive you anything, if you tell me here and now that you love
me," Marwood said.

"I love you more than life itself," Charlotte told him without
hesitation.  "BUt I still feel such a fool.  I realize now that you
were not seeing Lady Howard.  I overheard her and Lord Barry-more
talking at Lady Rowallayne's ball.  She was trying to make me think
that the two of you were having an affair."  "I know."  "You do?"

"I stopped in to see Celia on the way here.  Your mention of that
rendezvous in the Park bothered me all the time !  was in France.  I
suspected before I left that Celia was trying to make trouble, but it
also occurred to me that She must have had an accomplice.  When I got
back and questioned Celia, she admitted that she had coerced Barrymore
into helping her.  Barrymore had always had an eye for Celia, and after
I insulted him at O'Shaunessy's, it hardly came as a surprise to me
that he had thrown in with her.  I am only sorry it didn't dawn on me
the first time you mentioned it."

Charlotte suddenly laughed.  "I don't believe Lady Howard and Lord
Barrymore are seeing much of each other anymore.  She was not at all
pleased with him that night."

Marwood chuckled.  "If that's the case, Bar-rymore is luckier than he
knows.  I would not wish Celia on any man."

Charlotte glanced at Devon, seeing the broad shoulders beneath the
tailored jacket, the wind-ruffled black hair curling around his collar,
and knew what it was to truly love.  From the dim recesses of her mind,
she suddenly heard the old Gypsy's voice.  The Gypsy who had predicted
it all--the pain, the joy, and the letters--the one in lovers own hand
by Which she would be condemned, and the letter by which she would
condemn another.  She had foretold it all, and it had all come true.

"I love you, Devon."

Marwood gazed down into her bright eyes and felt as though the sun had
burst through on a cloudy day.  He took one of Charlotte's hands in his
and lifting it to his lips, pressed a long, lingering kiss into her
palm.  "Will you marry me, Charlotte?"

Charlotte's free hand lifted to caress his hair.  "Just as soon as you
can arrange it."

'My dearest Charlotte," he said, inadvertently quoting from the letter
which had begun it all.  Their lips met first in a wlfisper soft touch,
a touch that deepened as the inevitable passion flared between them,
banishing the memory of nameless doubts and replacing it with the
forgiving warmth of love.

AUNT Krl'rlE, venturing into the garden a little while later in search
of both her peppermint and her niece, spotted the pair of lovers on the
stone bench and abruptly halted.  They were so totally oblivious to
anything other than themselves that her eyes blurred with tears.  She
quickly and quietly returned to the house.

"Well, did you find them?"  Edward enquired with a broad smile.

Aunt Kittie fumbled for her handkerchief.

"Yes, I certainly did."

"And?"

"It is no wonder Charlotte is taking so long.  She is rather ...
occupied."

Edward bit back a laugh.  "Was she indeed.  And what about your
peppermint?"

Aunt Kittie hastily wiped away a tear, and flipped to another recipe in
Dr.  Culpeper's book.  "Lady Bering has waited this long for her tonic.
She can certainly wait a little while longer!"