Good Lord! What had come over him? For more than a decade he'd skillfully evaded scheming fortune hunters. Beautiful debutantes, aristocratic ladies from ancient families, and a never-ending stream of opera dancers had all tried to snare him—and his enormous fortune—since the day he reached his majority nine years previously.

His firm resolve not to wed had now been shattered by one bawling female.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened into a perfect oval. That melancholy countenance which had captured his sympathy was replaced with one of utter shock. "I cannot have heard you correctly, Mr. Birmingham. Surely you did not just offer for a woman you met only last night?"

He shrugged as casually as one who'd just suggested a spring-day stroll. "I did. If you knew me better, Miss Hastings, you would know that Adam Birmingham never deceives. When I ask for something, I go through with it." He managed a grin. "And I always get what I want."

Her eyes met his. Hers looked almost gray in the carriage's dim light. And they were intense. "Except for Maria," she murmured.

Maria's name was like a swift kick to his gut. If there had been any hope of rekindling his affaire de coeur with Maria, he would never have asked for Miss Hastings' hand. But Maria was now happily married to her count and returning to the country of her birth. He frowned. "Except for Maria."

"How can you offer for one woman when your heart belongs to another?"

He could not deny that he was still in love with his former mistress. "If I can't have Maria, I want no other. I'll not love again. I'll never marry. Why not solve your problem instead? That would lessen my melancholy."

"As much as your proposition would solve my problem, I cannot allow you to throw yourself away on an unsophisticated woman of modest means."

"But Miss Hastings, the means of my wife matter little. I'm an extremely wealthy man."

"Look at me, sir. I must be a far cry from the beautiful, fashionable women you are accustomed to."

She spoke the truth. He had always associated with beautiful women, women far lovelier than she. They had all been fashionable, too. As his gaze locked with hers, he realized that while she was not a stunning beauty, she was subtly pretty. With fashionable clothing and accessories, she might become something quite above the ordinary. "As my wife, you would possess the most beautiful clothing, jewels, and furs in the kingdom."

Her eyes widened. She swallowed hard. "You make it very difficult to refuse."

"Good. Shall we set the date?"

"But I do refuse."

He did not respond for a moment. "You wound me, Miss Hastings. Spurned by two women in the same week. I shall have to do myself in."

"You're making this very difficult, Mr. Birmingham. Your offer is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me." She blew an impatient breath. "You've been so kind. I would never hurt you."

"Then you ought to marry me."

"One does not repay a rescuer's kindness by destroying one's rescuer."

"You think marrying you would ruin my happiness?"

She nodded. "You can't realize it now. Now you are too hurt by Maria's rejection. But pain lessens over time, and when it does you will want to love again. You'll want a wife worthy of you, and I'm not that wife."

"I beg that you not put me on some pedestal. I would wager I come from far more humble origins than you. Tell me, Miss Hastings, is there any member of your extended family who bears some kind of title?"

She bit her lip. "My mother's great uncle is Sir Arthur Lippincott, a baronet."

"There you have it! Your family’s more illustrious than mine."

"I still refuse to make your life miserable."

Why in the devil was he pleading with this woman to marry him? He'd never wanted marriage. Or, as Nick had told him at White's last night, he didn't want to marry until he met The One, and Emma Hastings was most certainly not The One. This woman was giving him the chance to bow out gracefully and preserve his cherished bachelorhood. Yet he kept begging her to marry him.

Had he taken leave of his senses? Since Maria had run off with Count Cuomo, he had been convinced he would never know happiness again. Why not bring some happiness into this lady's life? Even the small services he'd been able to perform for her today had made him happy. He would seek his happiness by helping to fulfill this young woman's dreams.

"It would give me great pleasure to be the author of your awakening womanhood, to introduce you to the world's greatest city, to have some small part in your transformation from pretty young thing from Upper Biddington to London's most fashionable matron."

"Barrington. Upper Barrington," she said with a mock indignation that was belied by her furtive smile.

Ah, a smile! He'd managed to pull her from the doldrums! Perhaps his job was done. No need to keep hounding her to wed him.

Her voice sounded youthful when she wistfully said, "I had always hoped to marry for love."

So had he.

"But, my dear Mr. Birmingham, had I to choose between forfeiting love or forfeiting London, I choose to forfeit love."

Had she just accepted his offer of marriage? His stomach plummeted. Oh, God, what did he do now?

He took her hands in his and spoke huskily. "I hope to make you very happy, my dear."

"Please," she whispered hoarsely, "call me Emma."

"And you must call me Adam."

"It's not to be a real marriage, is it?"

"Of course. I will procure a special license and marry you at the earliest convenience. I will make all the proper financial settlement on you.”

“That’s not what I meant by a real marriage."

He suddenly understood. Unaccountably, his gaze flicked to her modest bosom. She was a woman, after all. And he was a man. He should have anticipated her query. "Quite right."

"What do you mean by quite right? Will you or will you not take your conjugal rights?"

How in the blazes did a girl from Upper Something or Other know the meaning of the word conjugal?

"I should think that one day you'll want children," she said.

Oh, God. He'd forgotten about that. He did want children one day. But he did not want to force himself on this poor maiden. "I shall conduct myself as a gentleman. The discussion of children can be dealt with at a time in the distant future."

As unsettled as he was, he needed to be pragmatic. He must discount that gloom which hung over him because he was entering a loveless marriage. He must back up his well-meaning proposal with a plan of action. The girl needed a strong, commanding man in her life right now, and that is exactly what he meant to be.

Despite his creeping misgivings.

"Well, then, my dear M-m-, er, Emma, I will need to procure a special license—and I shall need to install you in respectable lodgings until I have the honor of claiming you for my wife. You will, of course, stay here at my brother's opulentacious house. I think you will be happy with his wife. But before you do, I believe you would prefer looking a bit smarter."

* * *

Nothing was to be done today about her modest dress, but dear Mr. Birmingham spared no expense in purchasing for her a half a dozen new bonnets—one of which perfectly complemented her sprigged muslin, making her dress appear far lovelier than it actually was. He also bought her a new Kashmir shawl the colour of freshly churned cream, and he took her to what he said was London's finest modiste.

At Madame De Guerney's establishment on Oxford Street, Emma almost forgot her shabbiness for Madame De Guerney herself treated her as if she were a royal princess. "Ah, but mademoiselle's delicate appearance will do great credit to my creations," she'd said as she took Emma's measurement.

Emma actually felt like a royal princess as Mr. Birmingham insisted she select patterns and fabrics for a half a dozen morning dresses as well as a half a dozen ball gowns. When Madame De Guerney showed her the vast array of fabrics, Emma's eyes widened. She felt as if she were in a dream. She'd never thought to see so many beautiful fabrics all at once. Fine silks rustled. Whisper-thin muslins were as soft as goose down. There were everyday bombazines and high-quality linen for shifts. Sumptuous velvets ranged in colour from deep crimson to powder blue. Emma thought she could have spent an entire day ogling at Madame De Guerney's. She'd never imagined such a place existed.

Madame assured Mr. Birmingham all the dresses would be delivered to Curzon Street within five days. Emma was shocked that twelve dresses could be constructed in so short a time, but the modiste explained that she employed a large staff of needlewomen to fulfill her client's orders. "And if I had to stay up around the clock myself to ensure delivery, I would. Mr. Birmingham's satisfaction is paramount to me," Madame De Guerney said.

Emma wondered if this was where Maria had come to have her dresses made. She glanced at Mr. Birmingham, and her heartbeat accelerated. How very handsome he was. How excited she was to become his wife—even if she wasn't a real wife.

But most of all, she thought of how jealous she was of Maria.

What a pity he still loved his former mistress. What a pity that Maria's betrayal had spoiled him for all other women.

After they left the dressmaker’s, Mr. Birmingham insisted they go to Rundell & Bridge. She had seen their adverts in the London papers and knew this was the jeweler to royalty. Her heartbeat soared.

Inside, Mr. Birmingham asked her to select a ring that would symbolize their marriage. The eager jeweler—who obviously knew Mr. Birmingham well—showed her a square ruby wreathed in diamonds, along with a band constructed of identical emeralds as well as a plain band of gold.

She hoped she would not displease Mr. Birmingham, but she selected the simple gold band.

"You're not doing so because it's less expensive?" he asked. "I assure you, I can afford anything you should desire."

She shook her head. "Because of my small stature, I prefer simple pieces. I hope you don't mind."

He smiled down at her. "It's your hand it will go on. Once we've wed, of course."

Her heartbeat roared. I can't believe I'm going to marry this man. In her wildest dreams, she had never imagined she would marry a man who embodied so many sought-after traits. With such handsomeness, wealth, and, most especially, kindness, she could overlook his sottishness. Though she would have to do everything in her power to get the man to church!

After they selected the ring, he decided to make a few selections of his own. "My wife will need jewels."

Silken trays of spectacular necklaces were unveiled. Many-tiered diamond necklaces vied with a ruby pendant and another necklace of scalloped emeralds. All of these were accompanied by matching bracelets.

"Oh, no," she protested. "These are far too grand for me."

Mr. Birmingham scowled down at her. "Remember, Emma, you are to be the wife of one of the richest men in England. You are to dress appropriately."

She felt as if she'd just been scolded. "I assure you, M- - -." She stopped herself. She mustn't address him so stiffly in front of Mr. Bridge. After all, he was to be her husband. "Adam, I have no experience with fine jewels. I beg that you make the selections for me."

His brows lowered. "Are you sure? I wish you'd exert your opinions."

"I have no opinions when it comes to fine jewelry."

Their eyes held for a moment. She thought he was going to protest, then his gaze softened. It was as if he understood she was afraid of humiliating herself. "Very well, my love, I will select your jewels."

She could have fainted. He'd called her my love! She knew he was merely doing so for the benefit of the jeweler. Mr. Birmingham wouldn't like it broadly known that he was marrying a country miss who was practically a stranger. Still, his endearment made her feel as if her heart were expanding out of her chest.

Mr. Birmingham walked along the showcase and came to pause. He eyed a pearl and diamond choker. “I should like to see how this looks on my betrothed.”

“Please,” Mr. Bridge said, “feel free to try any of these on your lovely lady.”

Lovely lady. No one had ever referred to her as a lovely lady before, but she was actually beginning to feel lovely, to feel as if she'd been transformed by some wizard's wand.

Adam took the necklace and came to place it about her slender neck. The brush of his hand as he clasped it gave her another of those chest-expanding experiences. Her breath grew short. No man had ever touched her before.

She had been astonished over his selection for it was the one in all the store that she thought most compatible with her plain appearance.

After he clasped it, he stood back and peered at her. Her breath hitched when she realized his eye skimmed her breasts—not that there was much to differentiate her from a lad. But she did possess a modest bosom, and for the first time in her life, she actually fancied the idea of a man being interested in her feminine jigglies.

His face lifted with pleasure. “Perfection. It’s simple and elegant, just like my dear Emma.”

What talents Mr. Birmingham possessed! He could rival Edmund Kean on the stage.

“Of course, my dearest, you will need one necklace that must be exquisite, that will proclaim you to be the grandest lady in all of London.”

“But . . . dearest, I am not the grandest lady in London.”

He merely gave her a smug smile. “Oh, but you will be.”

“I have just the necklace!” Mr. Bridge went to the back room and returned with a large velvet box. “While we normally create our own jewelry at Rundell & Bridge, this is a very special commission we were able to obtain from a member of the Bourbon Royal Family.”

Emma’s pulse rocketed. Could this actually be happening to her? Emma Hastings, an orphan from Upper Barrington?

As the top lifted from the purple box, Emma gasped. She had never seen anything so lovely. The necklace’s focal point was a net of diamonds which held a small but skillful “bouquet” of amethysts. Of course, it was much too grand for her.

“Allow me,” Adam said as he took it and draped it around Emma. She peered at herself in the looking glass and swallowed. Even if it was far too opulentacious for her, she loved it.

Adam nodded his approval. “Yes, Mr. Bridge, this will do very nicely.” Turning to Emma, he added, “I believe we will have to send a note around to Madame De Guerney to change the green gown to some shade of purple to wear with this. Do you agree, my dearest?”

This necklace with a lavender gown would be, to use Mr. Birmingham’s own word, perfection. She nodded shyly. She felt like an interloper. What had she ever done to deserve to be treated like a princess?

She could never repay Mr. Birmingham for his many kindnesses, but she vowed she would find a way. Even if it took the rest of her life.

When he came to remove it, he said, “It’s very lovely on you.”

“Are you sure you can afford it?” she whispered. “He didn’t mention a price.”

He laughed. “Yes, my darling bride-to-be.”

She felt like a great hoarder after all the beautiful things that had been bestowed upon her that day.

As they rode back to his brother's palatial house, Emma reflected on her stupendous good fortune. In the span of a single day she had gone from the depths of despair to an elation unlike anything she had ever thought attainable.

Though still stunned by the news of Aunt Harriett’s passing, Emma took comfort in Mr. Birmingham’s explanation. Auntie was close to ninety. She must have been waiting until she thought Emma was being taken care of. She wouldn’t have wanted Emma to be melancholy.

Thanks to Mr. Birmingham, her grief was being assuaged.

I am going to be married to the finest man in the kingdom. She was so exhilarated, she felt as if she’d just downed an entire bottle of champagne. (She only hoped her intended avoided champagne—and all other spirits. She wouldn't like him to turn into a Jeb Hickman.)

When the coach entered the courtyard at his brother’s house, all the lanterns glowed now that night had fallen. Once more, she became cognizant of how shabby she must appear to a couple who lived in so fine a home. They must be the toast of London. Even if the Birminghams were not possessed of pedigree.

He turned and took her hand. “You will love Lady Fiona. She’s one of the warmest people I’ve ever known.”

Lady? Had he not said his family lacked pedigree? Now she was more nervous than ever.