"Andrew!" the man bellowed, walking over to join the two of them. "You know better than to ensconce yourself in here with some pretty little thing! Taking after me, are we?"

Arabella stared from one to the other, thoroughly confused.

“I received your note," the man continued, "And have come with some news of my own. It appears that the malicious note writer was none other that Lord Hartington. He and his lovely daughter – one I have had cause to know in the past – came to call upon me in Scotland and, well, now it appears I am to be wed."

“Wed?” Andrew repeated, staring at his brother, all the while frantically worrying about what Arabella was thinking. “You have agreed to be married?”

William shrugged. “I had very little choice, it appears. I was caught by the lady’s father, much as I have caught you now, except perhaps, a little less formally dressed. On top of which, it appears I am to be a father in a good seven months or so.”

Sighing, he got to his feet and walked over to pour himself a brandy. “As the banns are to be read this Sunday, I felt there was no urgent need for me to remain in Scotland and returned home, ready to assume my ducal duties.”

Andrew did not know what to say, turning to see Arabella’s stunned face as the truth slowly dawned on her. “Arabella,” he choked out. “I – I did not mean….”

Scrambling to her feet, Arabella rushed from the room, her heart in her throat. She had been thoroughly deceived, realizing that the man she had fallen in love with was not the Duke, as she had thought, but rather the Duke's brother. Why had he kept this from her? Why had he not simply told her the truth of who he was? With tears blurring her vision, Arabella stumbled down the stairs, desperate to leave the house but instead finding herself out in the gardens of the town house. Rushing forward, she somehow found a small stone bench, hidden behind a few large shrubs. Sinking down heavily, she put her head in her hands and sobbed.

She did not know how long she cried for slowly, so slowly, a small tendril of guilt wound its way into her thoughts. Had she not deceived him also? It was not at all in the same fashion, but it was deceit nonetheless. Until she had fallen in love with him, her intention had been to do as her father had asked.

“Arabella?”

Her first instinct was to run, to hide herself away from him, such was the depths of her hurt, but instead, she sat still, trying to hide her still damp face from him.

“Arabella,” he said again, his voice breaking. “I am truly sorry. I intended to tell you the truth this evening, in the hope that you would still have me, but my brother returned without my knowledge.”

"But why?" she asked, still unable to look at him. "Why pretend to be your brother? Why did you not tell me the truth?" Suddenly all the carriage rides far away from Hyde Park made sense, as well as his absence from most of society’s events. He had not wished his true identity to be revealed.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head. "Because I am a foolish man," he muttered, gruffly. "I sent my brother away because he had been acting quite without discretion of late, and there was a certain threat that needed to be looked into. I lived here, intending to make reparations to those he had hurt – which I have managed, I must add – but never intended to pretend to anyone that I was the Duke himself!" His head dipped lower. "I attended the masquerade only a day after my brother took himself to Scotland, simply because I wanted to see what life was like for my brother. I have always been careful and sensible, whilst my brother has been precisely the opposite. I suppose I wished to see what it was like to be him, just for one night."

Arabella swallowed her tears, turning so that she could finally look into his face. When he raised his head, she saw regret and sorrow written into his features.

Andrew sighed heavily, wondering why he had been so much of an idiot. “I should have told you the truth of who I was the first day I called upon you,” he continued, honestly. “But I did not.”

“Why did you not?” she asked, softly.

"In truth, because I was worried you might not be interested in my attentions any longer," he replied, honestly. "I know now that you are not someone affected by titles and grandeur, but at the time…." He trailed off, hoping desperately he had not hurt her further by his words. "I was too afraid to tell you the truth, thinking that you would run from me. I could not bear that thought, Arabella, since my heart is yours." Raising his eyes to hers, he saw them sparkle with tears and pain sliced through his own heart once more. "You mean more to me than I can express, Arabella.” His voice became a whisper, as he forced himself to keep looking into her eyes, knowing that the pain he saw there was of his doing.

Arabella took a long breath. "Now I can understand why my view of you and society's view was so much at odds," she said, unsmiling. "Already I believe your brother is quite different."

Andrew nodded. "I am the man you know, Arabella," he promised, hoping desperately she would believe him. "When you kissed me in the arbor, I hesitated only because I wanted you to know the truth, even though I could find no words with which to say it. I long for you, Arabella. After what you have told me of your father, I want to take you away from him almost this very night!" His voice rose in fervency, surprising even himself. "Despite my dishonesty, I beg of you not to turn from me. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, to believe that I am the same as I have always been, even from the very first moment we met, then I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up to you for what I did."

---

Arabella stared at Andrew in astonishment. “You – you wish to marry me?” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He dropped his head into his hands once more, before looking up at her. "It is not the best of proposals, I admit," he said, softly. "Once more, I cannot find the right words to say." Reaching across, he took her hand in his, glad that she didn't immediately pull back. "But yes, Arabella. I wish to make you my wife if you will have me."

Struggling to get her breath, Arabella wavered for a moment. She wanted desperately to say yes, to let him sweep her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless, but still, she held herself back. "You are not saying this as a way of an apology?" she asked, needing to be sure of his motives. "I would not be your wife simply because you feel guilty over your deception."

“No, Arabella,” he replied at once, inching closer to her. His hand reached out and cupped her cheek, wiping the dampness from it with his thumb. “I have fallen in love with you, my dear one. My heart is entirely yours. I dream of you at night, remembering the softness of your lips against mine, the feel of you under my fingers, remembering your smile and your laughter. I imagine our future together, with you standing by my side. I love you deeply, Arabella. I believe I fell for you from the first moment I saw you.” His lips twisted into a slightly rueful smile. “Even if it was from behind a mask.”

Arabella sighed happily, the pain of his deception slowly ebbing away. In truth, she had no right to hold such a thing against him, given what she herself had been attempting to do. It was only because she loved him that she had told him the truth and now, finally, he had revealed all to her.

“I must be honest with you too, my lord, and tell you that I have fallen in love with you also.”

“Andrew,” he murmured, leaning closer. “You do not know how long I have waited to hear my name on your lips.”

Her toes curled as she whispered his name, love shining in her eyes as she flung herself into his arms, allowing all the emotion she had held so tightly to her chest release into him. Her lips sought his, and soon were captured as with the pent-up passion they had both held. He tumbled her backwards on the grass between the intricate shrubbery which hid them from view as she giggled with happiness.

Their kiss grew deeper and hungrier, as she ran her hands through the dark locks that had fallen over his forehead. Her legs drew up on either side of him as he came up to breathe.

“Arabella, my darling,” he said. “If this goes any further I will ruin you.”

She smiled in her sweet way and said, “If you ruin me, my lord, then you will have to marry me.”

“Then you will marry me, Arabella?” came his quiet whisper.

She smiled up at him, happiness and contentment in her heart. "Yes, Andrew, I would love nothing more than to be your wife."

There were forgiveness and healing in their lovemaking, as they promised one another a future together and he made her his wife in nearly all ways. He held her tightly as he entered her for the first time, and rode the waves of pain into pleasure with her. She cried tears of joy as they lay together afterwards with him holding her against his chest, pressing his lips to her temple.

Finally, Arabella would be taken from her cruel father and secured beside her husband, a man who loved her and whom she loved in return. What had started out as a masked deceit, had ended with a love she had never known before. She could not wait to become his wife.