Sunlight spilled over Mary as she stepped out onto the terrace with leaden feet. The air out here was fresh, and yet it felt as though she was suffocating. Blindly, she made her way toward the steps and down onto the path below. How could this be? How could she have been so filled with joy no more than half an hour earlier, only to find herself burdened by grief now—her heart, no longer weightless, but like a dull rock, heavy inside her chest.

Ignoring the sound of her name being called, she continued in the direction of the lake, toward a vacant spot where she could be alone. As she went, she thought of Andrew, of how dishonorable he’d been if what Richard said was true. She did not want to believe it, but Andrew had failed to deny the accusation.

Shoulders slumping beneath the weight of this discovery, she considered Richard and how happy he’d made her. Still, there was no escaping the fact that he’d kept a very large part of his life from her. In a way, she understood. He’d wanted to put the past behind him and move on—had not believed there was any chance of her ever finding out about what he’d done. But his words! Lord, how they hurt!

Pausing, she tried to look at the situation objectively. Richard had spoken in anger. She knew that. Doing her best to move past the pain in her chest, she considered an important question: had Andrew not been her brother, would she have approved of Richard’s actions then? Did he not deserve some form of compensation for what he had lost and all that he had suffered?

Deep in her heart, she knew that he did—she knew that what Andrew had done was wrong, even if she did not know the specifics.

“Mary.” The sound of her name was closer this time. Turning, she saw that it was Sarah, her pale blonde hair curling softly against her cheek.

“I called to you from across the lawn, but you must not have heard me,” Sarah said. Frowning slightly, she moved a little closer. “Are you all right, Mary?”

Unable to speak for fear that she might start crying, Mary managed a solid nod.

“Clearly that is not the case.” Sarah’s eyes filled with concern. “You look as though you have just received some troubling news. Is it your parents? Are they not well?”

Shaking her head, Mary looked away, her eyes fixed on the soft surface of the water which occasionally rippled as mayflies darted across it. “As far as I know, my parents are both well.” She took a quivering breath. “Do you know what it feels like to have your heart torn from your chest?”

There was a small pause, and then, “I am familiar with the sensation. Yes.” The confession surprised Mary. For a second she didn’t quite know what to say. As it turned out, she didn’t have to say anything at all since Sarah continued by adding, “Spencer and I had a few difficulties before we decided to marry. I kept something from him—something terribly important—and he judged me for it once he found out.”

“What stopped you from telling him?”

“Fear, I suppose.” Moving off toward the right side of the lake, Sarah waited for Mary to fall into step beside her before saying, “I did not think that he and I would ever be able to be together, and so I chose not to mention the one thing that could ruin his good opinion of me forever.”

“But he found out anyway.”

Sarah nodded. “The truth has a funny way of surfacing at the most inopportune moment.”

“Perhaps you should have been honest with him from the start,” Mary suggested.

“Perhaps,” Sarah agreed. She was silent for a while before saying, “We all keep secrets, some greater than others. I daresay you have your own fair share of them.”

The comment brought Mary up short. “What do you mean?”

Sarah shrugged. “Nothing, other than that it is rare for a young lady to be venturing about outside on her own during the early hours of the morning. If you will recall, Spencer and I crossed paths with you a couple of weeks ago when we were returning from a walk.”

“I remember it well, even though I am not prepared to tell you the reason for it. I hope you can understand.”

“Of course.”

“But Mr. Heartly knows the truth.” Mary couldn’t stop her voice from rising. “I shared my secrets with him as soon as it became clear that our friendship was developing into something more.”

Nodding, Sarah seemed to ponder that. “So you feel betrayed?”

“I . . . I do not know exactly what I feel, other than that I wish I would have discovered the relationship he has to my brother a lot sooner than I did.”

“Mr. Heartly is a friend of his?”

A snort was all Mary could manage. “Not in the least.”

“I see.” Following the path to the right, they allowed it to lead them around some flowerbeds and back in the direction of the house. “That does complicate matters. I trust that you are fond of your brother?”

“Of course I am,” Mary said. “He is my family!”

“That is true,” Sarah agreed, “but being related by blood is not always enough. Character counts as well, and although I do not know the reason for Mr. Heartly’s dislike of your brother, I am certain that it must be justified, in which case you may want to consider which of the two deserves your loyalty the most.”

“I fear that Mr. Heartly will no longer wish to have anything to do with me,” Mary said. “The look in his eyes when he saw my brother and the things he said . . . I believe he will want to distance himself as much from him as possible, even if that means cutting all ties with me.”

“You cannot be certain of that. Talk to him, Mary—if you still wish to spend your life with Mr. Heartly, that is. But be prepared to turn your back on your brother if need be.”

“How can I possibly do that?”

“By asking yourself if he is worth sacrificing your future happiness for.”

It wasn’t a question that Mary wished to consider, and yet she knew that she had to. Andrew—the carefree boy she’d grown up with. He’d always been prone to laughter, always ready with a smile to cheer her up. But he was selfish. Undeniably so. And Richard had paid a great price for that. Didn’t he deserve her support?

“I cannot think of what to do right now,” she murmured, more to herself than to Sarah. On one hand, she wanted to run into Richard’s arms, but on the other, she feared the power that he wielded over her. “He showed no consideration for my feelings at all, and in not doing so, he shattered my heart. How can I trust that he will not do so again?”

“I cannot answer that question for you, but perhaps if you speak with him—”

A distressed laugh pushed its way past Mary’s lips. “There is nothing for me to say.” He hated her for being Andrew’s sister. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d told her that he never would have associated with her if he’d known. “Nothing at all.” Turning away from Sarah, Mary headed for the house, one foot stepping in front of the other, moving her forward until she eventually found her brother. To his credit, his expression was somber as she reentered the room from which she’d fled a short while earlier. He was the only one present now, abandoned by the Heartlys, it would seem.

“Of all the men in England,” he said as he rose to greet her.

Stiffly, she came to a halt before him, anger swiftly taking hold in response to his flippancy. “I would caution you to think twice before mocking me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It was not my intention to do so. You know how grateful I am to you for your support.”

“Do I?” When he gave her a curious look she said, “Upon reflection, it has become increasingly clear to me that you have been taking advantage of me for some time now.”

Knitting his brow, he crossed his arms. “We are family, Mary. It is our duty to help and protect each other. Especially with Mama and Papa so far away.”

“That is what I told myself as well, Andrew, which is why I wanted to help you invest when your own funds were depleted. But the truth of the matter is that you have squandered away your fortune, along with all the money I have given you, in the most irresponsible way imaginable.” Studying him, she went on to say, “If I were to hazard a guess, you did not even discover the information for which you have been rewarded. Heartly did that before he was captured, didn’t he?”

“Of course not. I overheard the conversation that those French soldiers were having just as well as he did.” He looked away a moment before once again meeting her eye. “But they discovered our presence there and rather than try to silence them, I ran.”

With slow and measured breaths, Mary walked toward her brother. Her hands curled tightly into fists at her sides. “Would you and Richard have been able to overwhelm them if you had not done so?”

A second passed between them until he finally dropped his gaze and nodded. “I believe so. Yes.”

Pausing her progress, Mary swayed slightly on her feet, disgusted by her brother’s actions. “You left him to die, Andrew! Dear God, how could you?”

His eyes filled with angst as he came toward her. “You were not there, Mary. You cannot possibly imagine what it was like, fighting for survival.”

She shook her head, deaf to his excuses. “He was captured because of you, tortured even, yet you do not appear to be the least bit sorry for it.”

“You are wrong about that. I feel terribly about what happened, but I am also angry at Heartly for what he has done to me. He has taken everything from me, Mary, and—”

“Stop,” she said, unwilling to let him continue. “He has every right to seek satisfaction. If you do not see that, then you are a far greater fool than I would ever have imagined. Indeed, I am beginning to wonder if I know you at all, Andrew, for in my mind, my brother would never have done something this callous.” She hesitated a moment before saying, “You could at least have gone to fetch help, but you made no attempt at that either, did you?”

He shook his head. “I was frightened.”

“Frightened.” The word whispered across her lips. “You were weak and unworthy of the uniform you wore.”

For a second, he looked as though she’d just struck him, but then his eyes darkened and he said, “You have grown bolder since I saw you last. I find that I do not care for it.”

“And I find that I do not care for a brother who would happily trade a man’s life for a title and fortune!”

“Not happily,” he clipped.

“Really?”

“What do you want me to say? To my knowledge Heartly was dead, so why shouldn’t I have taken the reward when it was offered to me?”

“Because it was wrong!” The words whipped across the room leaving Mary’s throat feeling sore. Tempering her voice, she met her brother’s resentful glare. “What happened to you?” She could scarcely believe that the man before her had once been the boy with whom she’d played so well as a child. “You were always so kind and considerate toward others.”

“I have made mistakes. I cannot deny that.”

She gaped at him. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

“What can I say, Mary? Heartly suffered for what I did and I am sorry for that, truly I am, but I have suffered too. The humiliation he has forced upon me . . . You ought to know that I have challenged him to a duel. We meet tomorrow at dawn.”

Staggering back, Mary steadied herself against the back of a chair while her hand covered her mouth. “You must be mad.”

“Of course not,” Andrew bit out, “but if you think that I will allow that man to methodically plan my ruination without demanding satisfaction for it, then you clearly do not know me at all.”

“Indeed, I am beginning to see that I do not.” She shook her head. “They burned his face, Andrew, broke his leg and his arm. The fact that he was able to escape at all is a miracle in itself and yet you have the audacity to feel as though you have been wronged when you are no worse off now than before you went to war. All he has taken from you are the things that should have been his, and only because you were foolish enough to gamble them away.”

“You cannot marry him, Mary. Not after what he has done to me. Promise me that you will not do so.”

Pain tore through her heart. “I do not think I need to make such a promise. It is unlikely that he will still want to marry me now that he knows that I am related to you.”

Andrew nodded. “You are probably correct.” He tried to smile. “On a positive note, Heartly has assured me that he will return all my funds to me along with the estate if I win against him tomorrow. Wish me well and hopefully I will soon be able to repay some of the money that you have given me these past two years.”

“No,” Mary said as she took a step back. “I will not wish you well, Andrew. Not after all that has been revealed today.”

“You would rather that Heartly wins?” he asked with dismay.

In spite of how hurt she was by Richard’s words, she knew he deserved to have her on his side. “He is ten times the man that you will ever be. The fact that you may be my brother is insignificant in this instance.”

“Your mind is clouded by your love for him, Mary. Clearly he has managed to influence your way of thinking, but you cannot ignore the fact that you and I have history. We have known each other for twenty years, grown up together, spent Christmases together . . .”

“And that might have meant something if you had been more honorable . . . more deserving of my high regard and admiration. As it turns out, you deserve neither. My support lies with Heartly.”

“But I am your brother.” The words were desperately spoken as she went to the door.

Looking over her shoulder at him, Mary shook her head with sadness. “Not anymore.”

Forcing back the tears that threatened in response to the familial tie she’d just broken, Mary hurried down the hallway with only one goal in mind: to return upstairs to her bedchamber where she could be alone with her thoughts. But as she turned a corner, she found her aunt exiting one of the salons alongside Lady Duncaster, her eyes filling with concern the moment she spotted Mary. “Is everything all right?” Lady Foxworth asked. “You look a little out of sorts.”

Nodding, Mary glanced toward the salon which appeared vacant. “May I have a private word with you?”

“Of course,” Lady Foxworth said.

“You are welcome to join us, Lady Duncaster,” Mary said as she looked to the countess. It was time she found out about the Roman villa and the cave. Mary and Richard had kept it from her long enough and with what had just happened and what might yet come, Mary didn’t want to risk leaving Thorncliff without Lady Duncaster knowing about its existence.

Lady Duncaster looked a little uncertain, but rather than excusing herself, she said, “If that is what you would like.”

As soon as they were all inside the salon, Mary closed the door. “Andrew is here,” she said without preamble while Lady Foxworth and Lady Duncaster each claimed a seat. “Lord Carthright, that is. My brother.”

“But that is excellent news,” Lady Foxworth said. “It’s about time that he offers you his support, and by coming here as you have asked him to do, he has clearly . . .” Her words trailed off the moment she met Mary’s eyes. “What is it, my dear?”

Lowering herself into a vacant armchair, Mary took a deep breath before saying, “As it turns out, he is already acquainted with Mr. Heartly, though not in a good way.”

Lady Foxworth’s expression grew wary. She leaned back slowly in her seat and cast a fleeting look in Lady Duncaster’s direction before asking, “What exactly do you mean?”

“It was Carthright’s fault that Mr. Heartly was captured by the French and tortured.” She then went on to relate what had happened since Andrew’s arrival, including the conversation she’d just had with him. “I feel terrible about all of it but I cannot possibly take my brother’s side in this. It simply is not right.”

“Especially not when one considers how grievously he has treated you these past couple of years,” Lady Foxworth muttered. She did not elaborate, aware that Mary would know what she was referring to and unwilling to let Lady Duncaster in on that little secret. Her expression was set in hard lines as she added, “Unfortunately, I can think of only one solution as far as Carthright is concerned.”

“And what is that?” Mary asked.

“That depends on what Mr. Heartly plans to tell the public. If the truth is revealed, Carthright’s punishment will likely be severe. After all, he lied to the king, receiving a title, land and a rather large fortune as a result.”

“Do you suppose he might hang for what he has done?” As angry as Mary was with her brother, she did not like the thought of such a thing in the least.

“I do not know,” Lady Foxworth confessed.

“You must also consider the shame that he has brought upon your family due to his misguided actions,” Lady Duncaster said sympathetically.

“Rest assured,” Lady Foxworth said, “I am aware of it. No matter the outcome of the duel tomorrow, I will deal with Carthright, though my plan will require the assurance that Mr. Heartly will be willing to refrain from mentioning this matter again.”

“I cannot promise that,” Mary said. “Mr. Heartly and I did not part on the best of terms. Frankly, the thought of having to face him again is not one that I relish.”

Lady Foxworth opened her mouth as if to speak, but Mary turned her attention on Lady Duncaster instead and quickly said, “There is something that Mr. Heartly and I have been meaning to tell you for some time now, but one thing or another kept stopping us from doing so.”

“And what is that?” Lady Duncaster asked. Tilting her head, she studied Mary with some degree of curiosity.

Knowing how mad her story would sound, Mary hesitated a moment before saying, “Are you aware that there is a cave on your property?”

Surprise filled Lady Duncaster’s eyes. She shook her head. “Where?”

“To the right, beyond the far lawn. There is a slope there on the opposite side of the hedge. The entrance to the cave is right below that, partially hidden from view by some rocks.”

“And you have been inside?” This question was asked by Lady Foxworth.

Mary nodded. “I have explored it quite extensively together with Mr. Heartly.”

Lady Foxworth frowned. “You are aware of how scandalous that sounds?”

Mary felt her cheeks grow warm. More so when she recalled the time she’d spent there in Richard’s company. The thought that she would never feel his touch again was too unbearable to contemplate. “Which is part of the reason why we have not mentioned it until now. But, I do think that you ought to be made aware of what we have found. You see it is not just a cave.”

“Then what is it?” Lady Duncaster asked, her expression increasingly curious.

“You may find this hard to believe, but there is a river inside the cave. There is even a boat.”

Lady Foxworth looked incredulous. “A boat?”

“Yes,” Mary said with a confident nod. “Mr. Heartly and I believe it may have provided Thorncliff with convenient and secret access to the sea.” She allowed this piece of information to be absorbed before saying, “But that is not all either, for there is also a tunnel.”

“A tunnel?” Lady Duncaster echoed.

“It leads to something quite splendid actually,” Mary told her. “To what appears to have once been a Roman villa.”

Lady Duncaster’s jaw dropped. “Surely not.”

“It looks as though it was buried with the intention of preserving the interior because the windows have been carefully sealed. Furthermore, it is furnished in a more recent style and seems to have been used by your late husband’s father.”

Wide-eyed, Lady Duncaster stared at Mary in dismay. “You must have found something to convince you of this.”

“A notebook,” Mary said, “which according to Mr. Heartly, was written by his late grandfather.”

“Dear God!” Steadying herself against the chair on which she was seated, Lady Duncaster’s hand flew to her mouth. She held herself completely still for a moment. Slowly, she lowered her hand to her lap. “This may be what my husband was looking for. Have you had a chance to study the notebook?”

“To some degree,” Mary admitted. “It refers, in particular, to a great deal of effort made by the third Earl of Duncaster, Mr. Heartly’s grandfather, the Duchess of Marveille, and one other person, to help French aristocrats during the time of the revolution.”

“Astounding.” Shifting in her seat, Lady Duncaster looked toward the door. “Can you show me?”

“Of course,” Mary said. “There is an entrance to the villa via the tunnels that run beneath Thorncliff.”

Lady Foxworth stared at Mary. “I daresay you are turning out to be quite the adventurous sort.”

“I did not plan to be, I can assure you,” Mary told her aunt.

“Though it is tremendously fortunate that you are,” Lady Duncaster said, “or I might never have found out about my late father-in-law’s covert operation. My husband always suspected that his father was up to something and spent the last years of his life trying to uncover what it was. He never found any evidence though and I began to doubt that there was anything to it. Uncovering this villa you speak of would certainly be a wonderful feat, though I would like to ask that you tell no one. The rumor that there is treasure to be found at Thorncliff has existed for many years and . . . I do not like the idea of all my guests beginning to hunt for it, as some would likely do if they were to hear about the villa.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Lady Duncaster.”

“And if you and Mr. Heartly manage to resolve your differences, perhaps the two of you can show me the villa together?”

“Perhaps,” Mary said even though she doubted such a thing would come to pass. It would all depend on how willing he was to try and make things right between them. One thing was certain—even though he’d lashed out at her in anger, she still loved him and could no longer think of any other man by her side. Perhaps the most important question then was whether or not she could forgive him and whether or not he could accept her for being the sister of the man who’d once betrayed him.

Pacing the length of his bedchamber, Richard tried to forget the fact that the man he’d sworn to destroy was not only sharing the same house as him, but that he was also the brother of the woman he’d fallen in love with. Damnation! He clenched his fists, ignoring whatever his brother was saying—something about finding a way in which to work it all out . . . that everything would be all right eventually . . . not bloody likely!

“I have taken everything from Carthright,” Richard clipped. “Ironically, a lot of the money he allegedly owned had been gifted to him by Lady Mary. She helped her brother thwart me while I continued to try and ruin him. How can you possibly suppose that such a thing will be resolved in a favorable way?”

“What I do not understand is that you never mentioned Carthright to me or to Papa.” Spencer shrugged slightly. “I feel as though I ought to take issue with that.”

Halting, Richard glared at him. “Don’t you dare.” Spencer responded by taking a sip of the brandy he’d been nursing as Richard continued, “I have enough to deal with at the moment without worrying about you as well.”

“Fair enough,” Spencer agreed. He kept silent a moment before saying, “I am a little surprised that Carthright would choose to challenge you though.”

“He feels the need to punish me for what I did to him.”

Spencer snorted. “As if you have not been punished enough already. In my opinion, he has turned the entire matter on its head.”

“I appreciate your support,” Richard said. Approaching the vacant armchair, he dropped onto the seat and leaned back with a sigh. “And I am sorry that I did not mention any of this to you earlier, but I was worried that you might try and stop me from doing what I felt was not only necessary, but well deserved.”

“You may be right.” Setting his glass aside, Spencer glanced over at Richard. “That said, I think I would have done something similar, had I been in your shoes. Carthright does not deserve to be rewarded for his betrayal. Quite the contrary.”

Silence followed for a number of seconds while Richard gazed up at the ceiling. “The trouble is that I don’t quite know where to go from here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am thinking of Lady Mary,” Richard confessed. Indeed, he’d been sorely pressed to think of anything else. “I have effectively taken vengeance upon her brother. Even before I discovered their relationship I feared telling her about this because I worried that she would judge me harshly for it. Now . . .” He shook his head. A strong feeling of hopelessness was beginning to wear him down.

“You think she will be unable to forgive you?”

Tilting his head forward again, Richard looked at his brother. “Yes, Spencer. That is precisely what I think.”

“From what I gather, she is a romantic. Perhaps she would appreciate a token from you? A poem or maybe some flowers?”

“I have already sent her a peace offering,” Richard told his brother gruffly. He knew that Mary deserved an apology, but he was beginning to wonder if his attempt at one had been good enough.

“And?”

Richard glared at him. “Do you think I would be sitting here talking to you if she had forgiven me?”

“Point taken.” A brief silence followed. Spencer drummed his fingers on the armrest. The clock ticked loudly on the mantel.

“What?” Richard finally asked.

Spencer tilted his head. “I noticed that she failed to put in an appearance at dinner. Give her time, Richard. If she cares for you half as much as you care for her, then she will come to you sooner or later. I am confident of that.”

“Really?” Richard drew the palm of his hand across his face. “Carthright’s arrival took me completely by surprise. As a result, I said some terrible things to her.”

Spencer nodded. “Your concern is understandable, I suppose. But before you decide what Lady Mary will think of you, perhaps you ought to ask her yourself.”

“She fled the room when she discovered what had happened.” The stricken look upon her face . . . he would never be able to forget that. “And now I am to meet her brother at dawn.”

“A tricky business, to be sure. Especially if you win.”

Groaning, Richard picked up his own brandy and took a fortifying sip. “You make it sound as though losing might be an option.” Shaking his head he set down his glass. “Pistols do not allow for the sort of sportsmanship one might enjoy with swords. I cannot go easy on Carthright for the simple reason that I fear he will take advantage of it.”

“Just as long as you don’t kill him then.” The gravity of the situation was prevalent in Spencer’s tone and expression.

“And what if he kills me?”

“Is he that good a shot?”

Richard considered the question for a second before saying, “He may not be as precise as I am, but he is certainly good enough to hit his mark, even at a distance of forty paces.”

“Then you must strike him first—a shot to his leg or perhaps his shoulder.”

“Naturally, I have considered that, though I doubt Lady Mary will approve.”

A frown crept across Spencer’s brow. “You think she would prefer it if you are the one who gets wounded?”

Richard expelled a deep breath. “I have no idea. But her loyalty toward her brother is undeniable.”

“I really think you ought to ask her if that is still the case after what she has just discovered about him.”

“Perhaps—”

A knock at the door cut Richard off. Eying Spencer, he got to his feet and crossed to it. He hadn’t been expecting anyone. “Yes?” he inquired.

There was a brief hesitation, and then, “It is I, Mary.”

A warm shiver rolled through him at the sound of her voice. He glanced toward Spencer and found that he’d risen to his feet. Pushing back the warning that Mary’s reputation was at stake by her being here, he opened the door and quickly ushered her inside. Her eyes widened at the realization that they weren’t alone.

“I should leave,” Spencer said as he took a step forward. He tilted his head in Mary’s direction. “A pleasure, my lady.”

And then he was gone, leaving the two of them completely alone in Richard’s bedchamber. For a long moment, they just stood there staring at each other until Richard finally collected himself and gestured toward the chair that his brother had just vacated. “Please have a seat.” He waited for her to move, to dislodge the awkwardness between them before saying, “Would you care for something to drink? The sherry is quite good.”

Lowering herself onto the chair, she nodded. “Thank you. I would like that.”

Stiffly, he crossed to the sideboard and prepared her glass which he offered her shortly thereafter. “You are aware that you risk ruination by coming here? If someone were to discover your presence in my bedchamber—”

“I know that my brother has challenged you to a duel, which means that lives are at stake now. My reputation seems insignificant by comparison.” Her eyes met his, staying with him while he took the seat across from her.

“Just so you know, I do not plan on killing him tomorrow.” He spoke slowly, gauging her reaction. “Indeed, I would like to prevent such an outcome.”

The statement did not seem to ease her concern. Her expression remained stark as she reached for her sherry, sipping it before setting the glass aside and saying, “I appreciate that, but . . . I am actually more worried about you. If anything were to happen to you . . .” She looked away, her teeth puckering the soft flesh of her lip as she bit into it.

Richard felt his heart rate increase. “If anything were to happen to me?”

“It would destroy me,” she whispered, her voice so fragile that it sounded as though it might break.

“What about your brother?” He held his breath, fearful of her answer.

She gave a small shrug. “He has wronged you in the most despicable way. I cannot support his actions.”

The statement eased some of his concerns. Still, he needed to know that things were once again right between them—that her coming here meant that they might at least stand a chance. “So you are not angry with me anymore?”

“Of course I am!” Raising her head, she looked at him directly. “Do you have any idea how deeply your words wounded me today?”

“I was unprepared to discover that you are Carthright’s sister.” A ridiculous excuse. One that he knew she neither wanted nor needed, so he dropped to his knees before her and said, “I have wronged you in the worst possible way by betraying the trust that you placed in me when you gave me your heart. You are innocent, Mary, and I am sorry for what I said to you.”

Her eyes seemed to strain against the onset of tears. “You should have told me what happened sooner so I would not have had to discover it like this.”

He knew she was right and yet he’d had his reasons. “I feared you would not be able to accept what I was doing and that you would judge me harshly for it. Mary, I could not allow his actions to go unpunished. I hope you can understand that.”

“I do.”

Lowering his head, he kissed her hands before raising his gaze to hers. “Forgive me. Please, I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

A weak smile touched her lips. “The gift you sent to my room this afternoon . . . it was remarkably thoughtful—the most perfect thing in the world!”

Her voice trembled as she spoke and Richard’s heart swelled with renewed hope. “It is the first song in the opera that I have begun working on, and because of the story, I thought it might be the best way of telling you how I feel.”

“It is our story, is it not?”

Seeing the tears that clung to her lashes, he nodded. “I have drafted an outline, but I am no longer certain of how it will end.”

“Perhaps you should ask yourself how you would like for it to end.”

“Happily, I hope.”

Leaning forward, she placed her hand against his cheek in a gentle caress that carried a glimpse of the future with it. “I think that would be a most excellent outcome.”

Exhaling the breath he’d been holding, he rose up, capturing her lips in an aching kiss born from longing and despair. “You mean the world to me, Mary. I need you by my side.”

“And I need you by mine.”

He kissed her again, promising her with the loving caress of his lips that he would never again be careless with her heart. “I cannot believe that Carthright is your brother,” he told her moments later as he placed his forehead against hers, reveling in the closeness. “What are the chances?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps the more important question is whether or not you are able to accept it.” Sadness filled her eyes once more and for a moment it looked as though she was finding it painful to breathe.

“The alternative would be impossible for me to live with, so if you can forgive me, Mary, then I can definitely come to terms with who your brother is.”

Relief flooded her features. “This must be terribly difficult for you.”

He stared at her in amazement. “Difficult for me?” Even now, with disaster threatening to ruin their lives, her kindness and consideration for others shone through. “Andrew is your brother, Mary.”

“By blood only.” A lonely tear trickled down her cheek. “I cannot in good conscience approve of his actions. My support lies entirely with you, Richard. I have told him as much.”

Overwhelmed by her love for him, he pressed her to his chest. “Oh, sweetheart”—the words tore at his throat—“I honestly thought I had lost you.”

A choked sob escaped her. “The choice became increasingly clear to me after listening to Andrew’s account of what happened. He was inconceivably selfish and cowardly. The fact that he did not give an accurate report of what happened but left you to die, is unforgiveable.”

Leaning back a little, Richard tilted her face so he could meet her troubled gaze. “I love you.” Nothing else remained to be said as he lowered his mouth over hers once more, kissing away the remainder of her pain.

Slowly, she brought her arms around his neck, pulling him closer until he hovered over her. “You should leave,” he murmured against the corner of her mouth.

The sweetest sigh escaped her parted lips. “And if I stay?”

His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he brushed them against her cheek. “If you stay . . .” Jesus, what a thought! Closing his eyes, he tried to control the tension building inside his chest. Lord, how he wanted her to do so. But it would be wrong. “I fear there will be consequences.”

He heard her breathe; soft inhalations that seemed to trap them in time. “And what if this is our only chance?”

Opening his eyes, he gazed into the dark pools of emotion staring back at him. “You are worried that I will not survive the duel?”

She turned her head away. “I have to acknowledge the possibility.” Her voice broke, fragmenting the words. “Considering what I now know of my brother, I fear that he will not act honorably and that you will pay for it with your life. I . . .” She shook her head, unable to speak.

“It will not come to that, Mary. I have seen your brother shoot before and while he is capable of handling his firearms, he is not nearly as accomplished a shot as I.”

Shifting, she met his gaze while unshed tears welled against her lashes. “So you believe that he will miss his mark?”

“I cannot say for sure, though I do believe that even if he does manage to shoot me, the shot will not be fatal.”

Gulping, she quietly said, “But nothing is certain, which is why I find it impossible to leave your side right now. Please don’t make me go.”

Her voice was so imploring, so fragile, that he found his discipline wavering. “You will be ruined if anyone finds out.”

“I would gladly risk ruination for a chance to spend the night with you.”

He shook his head and drew back. “You say so now, but what if the duel tomorrow does not go according to plan? What if you find yourself with child and without a husband by your side? Think of what that would do not only to you, but to our son or daughter.”

Her eyelids drooped with hopelessness. “They would be shunned by Society. As would I.”

Rising, he drew her to her feet so he could pull her into his arms, her head nestled firmly against his chest. “We cannot allow this situation to divest us of our common sense,” he whispered against the top of her head. “No matter how tempting it is to do so.”

“I just want . . .”

“So do I, my love.” Sweeping his hand up and down her back in long soothing strokes, he whispered again, “So do I.”