The next two hours were, in Richard’s estimation, the most torturous he’d ever endured. They were worse than the ones he’d spent chained to a table while glowing red iron was being pressed against his cheek. Worse still than the days it had taken for him to make his way from Brussels to Antwerp with a broken leg.

Pushing the unpleasant memory aside, he thought of Mary instead, of how bad she’d felt about deceiving her aunt and of how worried she’d been about the ton discovering her secret. Crossing to the window, he eased the curtain aside and peered out at the moonlit garden. Her transgressions were nothing compared to his—a mere masquerade performed with the best of intentions while he . . . all he’d wanted was another man’s downfall. He had that now, and just as he’d feared, it wasn’t enough to cleanse his soul of darkness. Mary, on the other hand . . . her smile alone could make him forget all else.

It was almost two o’clock in the morning by the time he made his way back downstairs, his heart lurching slightly with expectation. Before, when they’d been alone together, there had been rules to follow. This was still very much the case of course, though not so much to the same degree. He wondered if she realized that. Of course she did, which was why she’d been so concerned about being alone together. She was worried that he’d be tempted to do things . . . things that the gentleman in him would not have permitted before.

Naturally, he’d balked at the insinuation, even though she’d been right to be worried. The truth was, he was finding it bloody difficult, thinking of little else than what she might look like with decidedly fewer clothes on.

Stepping into the stairwell, Richard was greeted by the faint glow from a lantern. “I was hoping to arrive before you,” he said as he closed the door softly behind him.

Illuminated in a golden haze, Mary’s face reminded him of an angel in a Raphael painting. The corners of her mouth lifted, dimpling her cheeks. “My impatience got the better of me. I could not wait.” Swinging her lantern around, she allowed the light to fall upon the stairs. “Shall we?”

“Allow me,” he said. His fingers traced the outline of her hand as he took the lantern away from her, his heartbeat quickening in response to her sharp intake of breath.

With measured steps, he moved past her and began his descent, aware of her presence behind him—of her warmth and of her scent. His chest tightened, as did his grip on the lantern. Guiding them back through the chilly passageways beneath Thorncliff, to the next set of stairs, they descended toward the hidden villa below while darkness closed in around them.

“It seems so different from how I remember it,” Mary said as she stepped down beside him. “The lack of light makes it almost gloomy.”

Agreeing with her, Richard went to retrieve the nearest torch, holding it to the lantern until it was fully lit. He did the same with three more, brightening the hall in which they were standing before heading toward the room in which they’d enjoyed their picnic. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced toward the floor where he’d spread out the blanket and laid out the food. It seemed unbelievable to him that it was only a week ago since that had taken place.

“Perhaps we should continue to explore Lord Duncaster’s study instead?” Mary asked. “I don’t believe that we are likely to discover anything else in there.”

“And I do not believe that we are likely to discover anything else at all.”

The silence that followed was palpable. And then, “Maybe if we were to look—”

He spun toward her, his eyes meeting hers. “We have looked in every drawer already, leafed through every book, and we have discovered some vital information regarding not only Lord Duncaster, but my grandfather as well. You know that we were planning to share this with Lady Duncaster, but before we had a chance to do so, your aunt received that damning letter from Rotridge and then . . .” Expelling a breath, he stared back at her, acutely aware of the energy simmering between them. “We are not here because of the notebook, Mary.”

A second passed, and then she nodded. “I know.”

Holding her gaze, Richard reached for her hand and silently led her into the room beyond and over to the sofa. He placed the lantern on a table and then offered her his full attention. “Do you have any idea of how beautiful you are?”

His hand captured her cheek, caressing the skin there until she leaned against him, her eyelids closing on a sigh of pleasure. “I have missed this,” she said, not answering his question. “I have missed you.”

“So have I.” Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to hers, desperate for the contact, the nearness, the all-consuming need to be with her. The softest murmur escaped her, followed by a shared breath as their mouths melded together, her arms reaching around his neck and holding him close. Richard’s chest expanded. He could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat leaping rapidly against his own, the soft contour of her breast as he trailed his hand along the length of her side.

Perfection. No other word would ever suffice.

Breaking contact, he reached for her hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips. He wanted so much. Too much. Wincing, he took a step back, releasing her hand and adding distance.

“What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide with innocent wonder.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Would it offend you to know that I do not believe you?” Crossing her arms, she gave him the most defiant stare that he’d ever seen.

A smile tickled his lips. “No.” A moment of silence stretched between them. “This is harder than I had expected,” he eventually said.

She scrunched her nose. “What is?”

He paused a moment before saying, “When I invited you to join me here tonight, I thought it would be just as before—that we would enjoy each other’s company and perhaps share a kiss or two.”

“And so we are.” She seemed to study his face as if she hoped to find his innermost thoughts written upon it.

“And so we are,” he agreed.

“Except it is not the same as before.” She took a step in his direction. “Is it?”

“No. It is not.”

“We are betrothed now.” She bit her lower lip, completely unaware it seemed, of the effect that she was having on him.

Shifting slightly, he coughed, hoping to mask his discomfort. “So we are.” It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to think about anything else, not to mention the fact that she was here with him, alone and far away from anyone who might happen to find them in each other’s company. She took a step closer still and he held up his hand, halting her progress. “I thought that I would be able to exhibit better self-control,” he said by way of explanation, “but now that we are to be married . . . Forgive me, Mary, but I fear that I may do something regrettable if you come any closer.” Squeezing his eyes shut for a second, he did what the gentleman in him insisted he do and reluctantly said, “Which is why I think it might be best if we return upstairs and retire.”

She gave a pensive nod. “If what you say is true, then that would probably be the correct thing to do.” She turned her face away, but not before he caught a glimpse of the joyless smile tracing her lips.

Unable to bear it, he caught her by the wrist and gently pulled her back toward him. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

She refused to look at him. “I cannot possibly do so.”

“Please?”

Silence was her only response. It stretched between them, altering his perception of time until he no longer knew how long they’d stood there. Just when he thought she would never give him an answer, she raised her chin and met his gaze, her brown eyes shimmering like a lake dressed in moonlight. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” The words were softly spoken, just as hers had been—a mere exhalation.

Raising her hand, she drew the tips of her fingers across his cheek, her lips trembling as she quietly whispered, “One look from you, and my insides melt, the slightest touch, and I can scarcely breathe let alone think. You torture me with the most delectable kisses until my soul begins to burn.” Pausing, she slid her gaze toward his mouth, quickening his pulse. “You have seduced me in every conceivable way.”

“Mary.” Her name was rough upon his lips, like waves breaking against the shore.

“I do not understand it. Indeed, I have never felt like this before.”

“I should certainly hope not,” he muttered in an effort to dampen the effect of her words. The storm of emotions raging inside him was threatening to ruin his sanity.

“Are you saying that what I am feeling is wrong?” Her eyes widened, her face flushing with uncertainty.

“No.” The word drifted through the air as he drew her closer. “Between you and me, it will never be wrong.”

Her lips parted ever so slightly, the wonder in her eyes compelling him to surrender. So he did, freeing his heart and his soul to accept the beauty that she offered, his mind no longer filled with concern, but with her and only her. “You are all that I have ever wanted.” Pulling her into his arms, he ran his palm across her cheek, savoring the warmth of her skin as she leaned against the caress. “And now you are mine.”

“I have always been yours.” A hushed murmur of words that almost brought him to his knees, weakening his resolve until he was left with no other choice but to kiss her again. The pull was simply too great—too impossible to resist. So he gave up control and captured her lips until the simmering heat between them erupted like claps of thunder, tossing him headfirst into the awaiting storm. It tore apart the pain, the broken dreams, and the anger, scattering them until all that remained was Mary, clinging to him as he clung to her.

He drew a shuddering breath, loving the feel of her tremulous touch against the edge of his jaw. Dear God, it was all too much. “You will stop me if I go too far,” he heard himself say, aware that he needed to slow his pace before the fire in his veins consumed them both completely.

Dark lashes fluttered against her cheek. “Of course,” she replied, her trusting eyes imploring him to guide her.

So he raised his hand to a stray lock of hair that had somehow managed to escape her coiffure, savoring the silky texture as it slipped between his fingers. “Incredible.” His gaze dropped to the softness of her lips and a ragged breath escaped him, torn from somewhere deep within—a rush of emotion that could not be put into words.

Relishing the moment, Richard carefully lowered his mouth over hers more slowly than before. A gentle gasp transformed into a mutual breath, allowing him to deepen the kiss and partake of the sweetness she offered.

Moments later, his hand found the curve of her back, his fingers spreading against the fragile fabric of her gown as he held her steady. Against his chest, he could feel the rapid beat of her heart, more so when he placed his lips upon her neck—a sensuous string of kisses caressing her pulse.

“Richard,” his name was but a murmur—a benediction of sorts—the moment his lips touched her shoulder. Her skin was smooth like cream, glowing in the dim light. She was so inviting that he could easily imagine falling against her embrace and remaining there forever. Instead, he whispered her name, his breath ghosting across her skin until she arched against him, offering him all that she was and all that she ever would be.

Humbled by her essence, he kissed his way across her chest, tenderly conveying what was in his heart. “So lovely,” he whispered as his hands moved over her, hesitantly exploring every aspect of her being while silently imparting his complete and utter adoration.

Light slipped against the shadows in a mystical effect, just as gently as his fingers slipped against her contours. “Please.” One word that seemed to set the room ablaze.

Unable to deny her, he lowered himself to the sofa and pulled her down with him. His mouth met hers, so full of love for this extraordinary woman who’d brought joy back into his life. He would give her the world if he could and he would cherish every second they’d been granted with each other. With profound reverence, he reached for the delicate curve of her ankle, the intimate touch tormenting him with its divinity. “Beauty, you tempt me beyond compare.”

Saying nothing, she trailed her fingers along his arm, mirroring his touch as he worshipped all that she encompassed. A sigh of complete and utter pleasure escaped into the darkness while soft light from the lantern spilled across her face.

The temptation to lay her down on the sofa and claim her completely was greater than anything else that Richard had ever experienced. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a fortifying breath and set his mind to less amorous thoughts, like the memory of his body on the cold hard ground in Belgium as he studied his enemy from a distance—waiting, assessing and planning his next move.

“Are you all right?” Mary’s voice broke through his thoughts, returning him to the present.

Opening his eyes, he glanced down at her, noting the look of concern in her eyes and instantly hating himself for having caused it. “Of course.” Leaning forward, he placed a tender kiss upon her lips. “You are everything that I have ever dreamed of, Mary. A truly magnificent woman.”

“And you are . . .” She bit her lip but was unable to mask the smile that threatened.

Her expression was so adorable that Richard couldn’t help but smile as well. “The luckiest man in the world,” he told her sincerely.

“I was going to say extremely talented, but—”

His laughter interrupted her and then he kissed her again before easing her off his lap and helping her to her feet. “Just wait until you see what else I have in store for you,” he teased.

She gave him a pert look while smoothing the skirt of her gown. “Your modesty astounds me.”

Reaching out, he grabbed her by the waist and, lowering his head, he whispered in her ear, “Modesty has no place in the bedchamber, Mary.”

He felt her shiver slightly in response to his bold remark, but rather than shy away, she said, “Then it is fortunate that we are not in a bedchamber, Sir.”

Grinning, he pressed his face into her shoulder while holding her close in his arms. “You kill me, Mary. Do you know that?”

He felt her breaths slow a fraction. Her arms found their way around him in a close embrace. “And you undo me,” she whispered, her words filled with raw emotion. They trickled through him, settling deep within his heart. Whatever he told her now, it would not be enough, and so he said nothing at all.

“Should we tell Lady Duncaster about what we have found tomorrow?” Mary asked as they made their way back upstairs a short while later.

“Yes. I think she deserves to know. Don’t you agree?”

“Certainly.” Arriving in the interior courtyard, they fell silent until Mary quietly asked, “And what of the special license that you mentioned?”

“I have sent a request. If all goes well, it ought to arrive within a couple of days.”

“We should probably warn your mother and my aunt.”

He winced. “That will not be an easy conversation.” In fact, he dreaded it already.

“No, but we will get through it together, and then—”

“Then we will be married.” A wonderful prospect.

They parted ways at the top of the stairs with Richard offering Mary a swift kiss on the cheek. Returning to his bedchamber, he applauded himself for his control. It had been a struggle for him to refrain from taking more than what he had. Recalling the look of pleasure upon her face as he’d held her in his arms, he felt his pulse quicken. He needed a drink. Hell, he needed her! Clearly that special license could not arrive soon enough.

“Here is another option for you to consider,” Lady Oakland said as she handed Mary what had to be the hundredth fashion plate. “The gown will take at least two weeks to complete so it is imperative that you make your decision today so there can also be time for a fitting.”

Seated to her right, Richard said nothing as he turned the page of his newspaper. He was almost completely hidden away behind it, leaving Mary with the trying task of dealing with his overexcited mother and siblings. Annoying man. Which was probably why she couldn’t help herself from saying, “While I truly appreciate your suggestions, Lady Oakland, there is a very good chance that I will not be requiring a new gown.”

Lady Oakland’s eyes widened with apparent dismay, as did her daughters’. Beside Mary, Richard stilled. Clearly he had not been so engrossed in his paper as to miss out on the conversation. “What on earth do you mean?” Lady Oakland asked. “Of course you must have a new gown for your wedding. It is certainly not an expense that Richard would be unwilling to spend. Is it, Richard?”

“Not at all, Mama,” Richard said, lowering his paper.

“Then it is settled,” Lady Oakland declared.

Turning to Richard, Mary gave him a beseeching look. His mouth tightened a little around the corners but then he reached for Mary’s hand and nodded before addressing his mother. “If I may make a suggestion, I think it might be wise to postpone any further wedding preparations until we are sure that there will in fact be a wedding.”

Silence fell upon the room, followed by a collective, “What?” from Lady Oakland and her daughters.

Richard cleared his throat. “Three weeks seems like an eternity, Mama, so I have taken it upon myself to request a special license. We plan to marry as soon as it arrives, which will likely be long before any gown you plan on ordering for Mary could be ready.”

“But . . .” Lady Oakland looked from Richard to Mary and then back again.

Eventually Fiona made her opinion on the matter known by saying, “First Chloe and now you, Richard. How utterly disappointing.”

“I apologize,” he said, “but one day you will understand.”

“And when exactly were you planning on sharing this decision with us?” Emily inquired, crossing her arms in protest.

“As soon as the special license was in hand,” Richard said, glancing at Mary with some disapproval.

She responded with a shrug.

“Well,” Rachel said, speaking up for the first time, “One cannot fault you for your efficiency.”

Biting their lips, Laura, Chloe and Emily dropped their gazes to the floor. If Mary wasn’t mistaken, the sisters were doing their best to refrain from laughing. Lady Oakland, however, looked quite appalled, but rather than comment on Rachel’s indelicate remark, she asked Mary, “Is your aunt aware of this decision of yours?”

“Not yet,” Mary admitted, “but I do believe that her eagerness to see me settled will offset any misgivings that she may have about a hasty marriage.”

“I see,” Lady Oakland said. She studied Mary and Richard for a long, almost awkward moment, before finally slumping back against her seat with a sigh. “Well, I suppose it is your decision.” She punctuated her statement with an elaborate wave of her hand. “Shall we ring for some more tea?”

Mary blinked. This conversation had certainly gone a lot better than she had expected and with far less resistance.

“I think I would prefer a glass of brandy,” Richard said. Rising, he went to ring for a maid before making his way over to the sideboard. The order for a fresh pot of tea was placed moments later, arriving shortly after that.

“You ought to be relieved, Mama,” Richard’s sister, the Duchess of Stonegate, said as she reached for a sweetmeat. “To arrange one wedding is a task, but to arrange three? If you ask me, you are fortunate to have a daughter and a son who are willing to forego such planning not to mention the expense.”

Lady Oakland barely had time to respond to that remark before a knock sounded at the door. The Thorncliff butler, Mr. Caine, entered the room. “Please excuse the intrusion,” he said, “but a gentleman has just arrived.” He looked toward Mary. “He claims to be your brother, Lady Mary. Shall I show him in?”

“Oh, by all means, please do,” she said with unhindered excitement. As foolish as Andrew could be, he was still her brother after all. They had grown up together and she loved him with all her heart—even if it was clear that he had taken advantage of her kindness over the years. But all of that would change now the moment she got married. Richard would help Andrew become a better man and all would be well.

She reached for Richard’s hand as she rose to her feet. He got up as well, standing solidly by her side as the door opened again and Andrew entered the room.

The moment he saw Mary, a broad smile lit up his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief just as she remembered. Releasing Richard’s hand, she hurried over to her brother. “I cannot tell you how happy I am that you have come.”

Taking her hands in his, he bowed his head to kiss her knuckles. “How can I stay away when you intend to wed? I cannot possibly allow you to do such a thing without making the acquaintance of the lucky man who has won your heart.”

Stepping back from Andrew, Mary turned to face the Heartlys, their expressions warm and welcoming—all except for Richard’s. His features were set in rigid lines, his mouth drawn tight and his eyes like two angry storm clouds bearing down on Andrew. “You,” was all he said.

Looking toward Richard, Andrew dropped Mary’s hands, his face as pale as new fallen snow. He shook his head. “No,” he said, his eyes going wide. “You cannot be here. It is not possible.”

“And why is that?” Richard asked, moving toward him like a panther out on the prowl. “Because I am supposed to be dead?”

Andrew shook his head, his mouth opening as if he meant to say something, but not a single word escaped him.

Halting his progress, Richard glared at him. “Because, if I am alive, then you can no longer claim to have acted as heroically as you allegedly did?” With cold detachment, he slowly asked, “Because I know the truth about you, Lord Carthright?”

An icy shiver trickled down Mary’s spine. “What are you talking about?” It wasn’t a question she wished to know the answer to, but one that had to be asked.

Richard’s jaw clenched, tightening the rippling skin that marred the left side of his face. Sharply, he turned his head in her direction, the warmth with which he’d looked at her a short while earlier completely gone. Instead, incomprehension and deep anguish filled his eyes. “I would never have considered a friendship with you, let alone something more than that, if I had known that you were related to him.” The words cut deep, as they were no doubt meant to do.

Lady Oakland took a step forward. “Heartly—”

“How could I not have discovered this?” He shook his head. “I do not understand. You do not have the same surname!”

Swallowing the painful knot in her throat, Mary said, “My brother and I do not share the same father.”

Richard grimaced, his shoulders slumping as if the entire weight of the world now rested upon them. “Of course.”

“Heartly, I—”

“Not a word,” Richard clipped, cutting off Andrew. His eyes remained on Mary. “Do you have any idea of what your brother has done?” She shook her head, unable to speak as Richard raised his hand to the scarred flesh marring his cheek. “This is because of him, because he was too great a coward to do his duty and because he would rather run and hide, leaving me to face the enemy alone.”

It was a grave accusation, one that Mary could not quite believe. Still, she looked to Andrew, hoping he might deny it. Instead he said, “You got your vengeance though. Did you not?”

“What I took from you will never erase your actions at Waterloo. We had a plan, Carthright, but when I needed you, I found you gone.” He paused for a moment before saying, “And then you took credit for what I had managed to accomplish before being captured. You gained a title that you did not even deserve—land too.”

“Until you took it all away from me,” Andrew practically shouted.

Unified gasps filled the room. “Dear God,” Mary murmured as she pieced it all together.

“And I enjoyed every moment of it,” Richard told Andrew. “Since you were foolish enough to stake it all at cards—”

“There is no honor in fleecing a foxed man,” Mary said, “no matter what he may have done.” The situation that was presently unfolding in the bright and sunny parlor was an absolute nightmare.

“Foxed?” Richard snorted. “You think he was foxed when he boasted at the gaming table that he would easily double his money?” He took a steady step in Mary’s direction, his eyes sparking with repressed fury. “Oh no, my lady. Your brother had his wits about him when he chose to risk it all, of that there is no doubt since my sources have confirmed it. So if he has told you otherwise . . . well, all things considered, I would not be the least bit surprised.”

Stepping aside, Mary distanced herself from her brother. From Richard too, since it would seem that there was a large part of him that she did not know at all. Recalling what her aunt had said, Mary couldn’t help but ask Andrew, “Did you really spend your entire fortune on repairing Carthright House?”

“The repairs I spoke of were made,” Andrew assured her, “and the staff has always been paid on time.”

“Tell her the truth,” Richard clipped.

A lengthy pause followed before Carthright spoke again. “Admittedly, the cost of running Carthright House was not as great as I wanted the world to believe.”

“What he means to say,” Richard grit out, “is that he made some risky wagers and that he lost.”

“And the investments you spoke of?” Mary asked, preventing Andrew from responding to Richard’s accusation. When Andrew shook his head, her heart fell. “You were supposed to use the money I gave you to regain control of your life . . . it was supposed to cover your expenses and help secure a stable income . . . but instead, you lied to me. You gambled it all away,” she said, addressing Andrew as if he were a stranger, “and Heartly won it.”

“Ironically, I had meant to gift the estate to you,” Richard told Mary, “but after this, I wonder if there will even be a wedding.”

She found that she could scarcely look at him, or her brother for that matter. “Were you ever going to tell me about this?” she asked Richard.

“I did not think it would be necessary,” he said. His eyes had grown vacant, adding further distance between them. “In fact, I had hoped to put it behind me, but it seems that will no longer be possible.”

A painful sob escaped Mary. “This cannot be happening. It simply cannot.” Retreating, she moved toward the door.

“Mary,” Richard said, the sound of her name reflecting the heartache that she was feeling.

She shook her head. “I need to think.” She swallowed convulsively. “Your actions aside, you have said some things just now that I cannot easily forget.”

“Mary,” Richard repeated, taking a step in her direction.

Refusing to listen, she turned away from him and left the room. There simply wasn’t enough space indoors for all of her emotions.