Three days later, Jameson motioned for the footman to lower the tea tray for inspection. The butler critically eyed the small silver pot filled with fragrant, steaming tea. A matching service of cream and sugar sat in the center, delineated by a single silver teaspoon engraved with twining roses.

A delicate china cup, painted with blue and yellow flowers, had been placed beguilingly empty to one side, while on the other sat a small china plate covered with a tempting array of tea biscuits.

The butler looked at the tray a long moment, then added a napkin of the whitest linen and one, single rose. Satisfied all was as it should be, he nodded. “Follow me.”

He led the way to the garden. The sun peeked merrily through the trees. The wind stirred the tiniest bit, cooling the air to a perfect temperature.

He went down the main path, then through a small gate to one side, and passed under an arbor. There, at the end of the path, on a low marble bench, sat Lady Elizabeth.

Jameson paused when he saw her, for she looked like a picture—sitting in her white gown, the skirts ruffling in the wind, her blond hair framed by the dark green hedgerow behind her. There was no mistaking the downturn of her mouth, an unusual sight that sent his old heart plummeting.

For the last three days, the entire household had been under a cloud. Just this morning, the upper maid had burst into tears for no reason and one of the grooms—a stout fellow who had been in the master’s employment for years and years and never caused a single flicker of harm—had forced a fight on one of the stable hands and ended up with a broken nose.

“The mistress is a lovely woman,” the footman said softly. “Pity about—”

Jameson sent him a searing glare.

The man fell silent and red-faced.

“This way, Master Charles. If, of course, you are through gossiping.”

Chastised, the footman nodded miserably. Jameson turned and led the way to the end of the path. “My lady?”

Beth looked up, raising her brows at the sight of the tea tray. “Oh! Why, thank you, but…I did not request tea.”

“No, my lady. I took it upon myself to bring it. I thought perhaps you would enjoy the sunshine a bit longer.”

Her face softened. “You are too kind.”

“My lady, we are just glad to have you home.” Jameson ordered the footman to place the tea on a nearby bench and then shooed the man away. The butler made a few minute adjustments to the tray. “The tea is quite hot, my lady.”

She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. “Unlike Grandfather, I will not hold you responsible if it’s either too hot or too cold.”

“Thank you, my lady. That is a great relief.”

Usually this dry sort of sally would have brought a smile. Today, she barely dredged up an acknowledging nod before sinking back into silence.

Jameson had to swallow a sigh. Lady Elizabeth had not been herself since she’d returned from London, engaged and disgraced. It was horrifying to think that being in town might have such an effect on such a level-headed young lady. It had been suggested that Her Ladyship had been importuned by a rakehell. Indeed, Jameson himself had witnessed the young man’s arrival late at night, and heard the subsequent verbal thrashing the duke had delivered.

Jameson shuddered thinking about it, though the young man had fared fairly well, emerging from the library pale, his eyes flashing with suppressed fury, but his pride unbowed.

It was a pity things had come to such a pass; everyone had hoped Lady Elizabeth might meet a nice, quiet gentleman and fall in love. Jameson was beginning to wonder, judging from Her Ladyship’s face, if perhaps stronger feelings were indeed involved.

Of course, it was not his place to suggest such things. So instead, he confined himself to pouring Her Ladyship a cup of tea and fixing it just as she loved it—with cream and a liberal dosing of sugar.

Though Jameson would not admit as much, he was worried. Things at Massingale House were not as they should be. His Lordship had been unusually quiet and spent a considerable amount of time sitting at the window of his library, staring out at the garden. Lady Charlotte was staying in her room even more than usual, seeming more restless and distracted than before. But the worst was Lady Elizabeth; she had lost her smile, which was something Jameson had never thought to see.

The butler waited a moment more, busying himself by dusting the surrounding stone benches with his handkerchief. He wished he could find the words to let Lady Elizabeth know that he and the rest of the servants were with her in spirit. But no spate of brilliance descended upon him and so, with nothing more than a kind smile and a heavy heart, he left, hoping the tea might revive her a little.

Beth didn’t hear him go. She was too lost in thought, struggling with the outcome of what she’d come to think of as her Greatest Folly.

Upon making his announcement that Beth was now engaged to be wed, Grandfather had decided it was time she came home—home to Massingale House. Beth was relieved to return, though it irked when Westerville made no objection to this decision. He merely bowed over her hand and said he would see her soon.

“Soon” was now three days hence, and she hadn’t received so much as a single note from the scoundrel. Blast him, this was the invitation he’d been waiting for, to visit Massingale House. To be honest, Beth had expected Westerville on her doorstep the very next morning.

But the day passed without notice. Then another. And another. She was beginning to wonder if something was amiss.

She lifted her hand to a rose that waved in the breeze by the bench. The velvet petal warmed her fingers. The heavy rose scent lifted on the breeze, and she leaned back against the bench and tried to calm her agitated thoughts. It had all happened so fast. Even now she could not quite accept things. If Grandfather had his way, she would already be married. Just this morning, over breakfast, Grandfather had astounded her and Charlotte with the announcement that a modiste would be arriving soon to begin work on Beth’s wedding gown.

Beth had protested, of course. She felt as if she were a ball rolling downhill, out of control of either her direction or her fate.

She sighed, leaning back. Whatever Westerville had said to Grandfather, it had left the older man with a tinge of respect. Not much, of course; no nonfamily member ever merited more than that, as was evidenced by Charlotte. But still…all things considered, even that little bit of grudging admiration was astonishing.

A rustle sounded over Beth’s shoulder. She turned to find Lord Bennington standing awkwardly just inside the arbor. Beth had to force herself to smile.

He bowed and gave her a ponderous smile. “Lady Elizabeth. I am sorry to intrude. I thought Lady Charlotte might be here.”

“No. I don’t think she’s risen yet.”

Bennington looked at his watch, a displeased frown marring his expression. “It’s well after one. Wasn’t she to see the doctor this morning?”

“Yes, but she sent word last night that she hadn’t been sleeping well and that she would see him next week, instead.”

Bennington’s displeasure was an almost palpable thing. Beth wondered once again at the man’s depth of feeling for her stepmama.

“Charlotte should see the doctor when he comes.” He fell silent once again, fidgeting with the gloves he held in his hands. Suddenly, he burst out, “Lady Charlotte seems well, doesn’t she?”

Beth hid a smile. What Bennington lacked in eloquence, he made up for in ill-at-ease speech. “Yes, indeed. She has been much better since you began escorting her about.”

To her surprise, he flushed a deep red. “I think so, too. In fact, I asked your grandfather if—” Bennington glanced at Beth from under his brows, then clamped his mouth closed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with my thoughts.”

“It’s quite all right. We are almost family as it is.”

He stepped forward eagerly. “Yes! I feel the same way! In fact, I would be remiss if I did not tell you—I mean, offer you—Lady Elizabeth, I heard from Charlotte about what happened in London.”

Beth’s cheeks heated. “How kind of her to inform you.”

Bennington shook his head. “She did not mean it unkindly. She was distressed for your sake. She thinks very highly of you, you know, and she has no love for the viscount. In fact, she’s always—” Bennington stopped. “What I mean to say is that she cares for you.”

“I know. I am sorry; I did not mean to overreact.”

“It is quite understandable. I know your grandfather arranged this marriage for you. I do not pretend to know the viscount, but if for some reason you ever need a sanctuary, I hope you will let me know. I have a maiden aunt who lives in Brighton. Your grandfather would never know you were there, yet you’d be safe and well taken care of.”

Beth’s heart swelled. “I don’t know what to say. I…Thank you, Lord Bennington. That is most kind. I will keep your offer in mind if things become untenable.”

A slow, almost pleased smile touched Bennington’s face. “I hope you will, Lady Elizabeth. Your father was quite special to me, and so, too, is your stepmother. Charlotte has always been—” He caught Beth’s gaze and winced, his former stiffness returning. “I am sorry. I should go inside and see if Charlotte is up yet. She is expecting me.”

“Of course.” Beth tilted her head to one side. Was that a carriage rounding the back of the house? How odd. No one used the back drive, unless…She straightened a bit.

Lord Bennington bowed. “I shall have Jameson find her for me. Thank you, Lady Elizabeth. I will leave you to your tea.”

A low whicker of a horse, followed by the jangle of a harness, made Beth start. It was a carriage! It took all her composure to bow calmly to Bennington. “Thank you, my lord. Perhaps you should take Charlotte for a ride today? The fresh air might revive her.”

He brightened. “That is an excellent idea! Thank you, Lady Elizabeth. I hope you have a pleasant afternoon.” He bowed with a touch less of his usual formality, turned, and made his way back to the house.

Beth watched him go, though her mind was still focused on the sounds of the carriage.

“Did you miss me?” came a low, deep voice directly behind her.

Beth jumped. Hand over her thudding heart, she whirled around to find Christian standing in the garden, his lips curved into a sardonic smile.

“Goodness, Westerville! Must you do that?”

“Didn’t you hear the carriage?”

“Yes, but only a second ago. You could not have made it from there to this bench in such a short time.”

“I didn’t. I had the coachman put me down by the side gate.”

“Ah.” She clasped her hands nervously in front of her. It was at that moment that she realized how much she’d wanted to see him. “I was beginning to wonder if I was to be abandoned before I even reached the altar.”

Christian’s gaze narrowed, something warm flashing in his eyes. “I am many things, but a promise breaker is not one of them.”

For some reason, Beth suddenly felt as if she had too many hands. Her gaze fell on the tea tray still sitting on the bench and she made her way to it. “Would you like some tea? I can call for another cup.”

“No, thank you. I can’t abide the stuff.”

“Then I shall have some.” She refilled her cup, looking over her shoulder at the viscount as she stirred the sugar and cream. “We are in a fine fix.”

He smiled, his teeth flashing whitely. “So we are.”

“I must ask if this was part of your plan? To trick me into an engagement so I could not keep you from Massingale House?”

She hadn’t meant to ask the question so baldly, but it was out before she knew it.

His smile disappeared. “I had no intentions of compromising you. It just happened. Besides, you had already agreed to help me.” He shrugged. “Why would I need anything more than that?”

Beth paused with the teacup almost to her lips. He was right; she had already agreed to help him. Relief flooded through her and she found herself smiling for the first time in days.

He grinned back. “You hadn’t thought of that.”

“No. Somehow I kept thinking you meant to seduce me.”

“I did. But not for that reason. Beth, you are a damnably attractive woman. I shouldn’t have done what I did, but no man on earth could blame me.”

Beth didn’t know what to say. She forced herself to take a sip of tea before answering him. “Yes, well, we are still in this horrid predicament. Grandfather is determined we should marry.”

“As he should.” Westerville said, leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest. “You are ruined.”

She shrugged and took another sip of tea. The warmth of the drink calmed her nerves somewhat. “I don’t feel ruined.”

His expression darkened. “You have no idea what being an outcast can do to you. To your soul.”

She shrugged. “It means people will talk.”

“They will not only talk, they will laugh. They will forget to invite you to various places. And then they will forget you altogether.”

She paused and then replaced the cup in the saucer with a gentle click. “Like your mother.”

“Yes.”

Beth nodded, her expression thoughtful. After a moment, she lifted the cup. The sight of her lips brushing the edge of the delicate china hit Christian like a brick. Every time he was in her vicinity, he lost sight of everything else. Which was why he’d taken three days to visit. He’d thought the time would have cooled the ardor she stirred in his blood, but he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.

She lowered her cup and glanced up at him. She was sitting on a wide pale gray marble bench, a billow of silk skirts, gold hair, and lovely brown eyes. Christian sensed that beneath her calm air was a lingering shock over what had occurred and it pained him.

Christian raked a hand through his hair and leaned back against the tree. By Zeus, how had he let things get to this pass? It was untenable. He’d just meant to rattle her into assisting him. He’d never meant to compromise her.

He suddenly realized that somewhere along the way, his goals had changed. At the beginning of this venture, he’d been more than willing to use her to get to her grandfather. Now…now, he would take only what he had to take. He had no desire to hurt Elizabeth. In fact, what he really wanted was—

He cut the thought where it sat. Damn his arrogance. Lady Elizabeth was not for him. She was for someone kinder, gentler, someone who would cherish her and protect her. He was not the man for her.

He met Beth’s concerned gaze and forced a smile to his own lips. “This is certainly awkward.”

“That is an understatement.” The teacup trembled a bit in her hands and she quickly set it to one side.

“How is your grandfather?”

“Angry,” she said, then smiled wryly. “And pleased. All at the same time.”

Christian frowned. “Angry? Does he abuse you?”

She met his gaze, her color returning in a flush. “No! How can you suggest such a thing?”

“I don’t know him that well and…Well, I want to be certain you’re fine.”

“My grandfather would never hurt me. He would never hurt anyone.”

“I have very little experience with grandfathers or fathers even, for that matter. What little I know of mine makes me quite glad he never bothered to present himself into my life.”

Her brows drew down a bit. “Your father was the Earl of Rochester. I saw him once, at a play.” She tilted her head to one side. “You don’t look like him at all.”

“My brother, Tristan, does.”

“I’ve heard that about the new earl.”

“He has even less fondness for Father than I.” Christian grinned. “Tris hates being called Rochester, so I do it every chance I get.”

Her lips quivered. “That does not surprise me. You’ve a devilish streak.”

On impulse, Christian pushed himself from the tree and came to sit beside her. “Beth, I am sorry this came to pass. It was not what I wanted.”

She took a steadying breath. “Nor I. But it is what we have. Westerville, do you think—”

“Christian.” He reached over and took her hand in his and turned it over, noting the lack of calluses. Her fingers were long and delicate, the tips pink and well shaped. He traced his thumb over her palm, fascinated with the softness of her skin. “We might as well dispense with the formalities now. Besides, I think I would like hearing my name on your lips.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she said with some composure, “Very well, Christian. Do you think we could find a believable way to explain our presence in that billiard room? Perhaps if we told Grandfather—”

“No. We could not. And you know that. Besides, no matter what we might believe, society has other ideas of what occurred, thanks to Lady Jersey.”

“Why did you have to go to the musicale with that dreadful creature?”

“She’s not so dreadful. Just talkative. Besides, I wished to go to the musicale to see you and I didn’t have an invitation.”

Beth blinked, her long lashes sweeping over her eyes, then up. “You came with Sally Jersey just to see me?”

Christian rubbed the back of Beth’s hand over his cheek. “Yes.”

“Did Lady Jersey know that?”

“She figured it out fairly quickly. At first she was amused, but I think later on, she felt somewhat slighted.” Christian shrugged. “Pity.”

Beth laughed softly, her white teeth showing just beneath the edge of her lip. Christian had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss her.

To cover the impulse, he instead kissed her fingers.

She smiled. “You are wasting your time. I cannot be charmed.”

“No?” He wondered what had made her so…bright. She radiated warmth and humor. He forced himself to look away, his gaze resting on the house before him.

She followed his gaze. “Ah, yes. You wish to search it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He turned back to her. “But not now.”

“I suppose that would look suspicious.”

“Indeed. I have waited twenty years for this; a few more days or weeks won’t matter.” He glanced at the house. “I can see your butler peering from a window.”

“Jameson.” She leaned forward, trying to see. “He is rather protective.”

“Have you always lived here?”

“Yes. My father and I moved here to be with Grandfather after my mother died.”

“Do you remember her?”

“No. I was quite young.”

He rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “Were you close to your father?”

“Not really. He was very intelligent and forever puttering about with a book. When he was working on a translation, he would forget to talk for days on end.” She smiled. “Grandfather despaired of him ever taking an interest in the estates, which is a pity, for now there is no one to do it.”

He traced a line along her thumb to her wrist, then back. “What about you?”

She made a face. “Grandfather is very definite in his concept of acceptable roles for women.”

“What a fool.”

To her surprise, Beth could see that he meant it. She looked down at her hand, held so warmly in Christian’s. A tremble of heat seemed to radiate out from that spot, warming her as it traveled up her arm, over her shoulder, and to her breasts. Beneath the light silk of her chemise, she could feel her breasts swelling, her nipples tightening. It was a very unnerving thing, this pull she felt toward Christian. It was very…physical.

She swallowed a sigh. How she wished her mother was still alive to explain such things to her, although…was that the sort of thing one confided to one’s mother? Certainly Beth could not imagine saying anything to Grandfather. As for Charlotte, they had never been that close.

Beth gently withdrew her hand from Christian’s and managed a stiff smile. She would need all her wits if she wished to find a way out of this engagement. “Christian, I have been thinking.”

His eyes glinted, but all he did was raise his brows.

“Since neither of us wish to be married, we must think of a way to soothe Grandfather’s irritation.”

Christian looked amused. “I suppose I could put an end to my existence. That would please him a good deal.”

“Nonsense. He is not an impractical man. He has to know that would just lead to more scandal.”

Christian’s lips twitched. “That would be horrid, wouldn’t it?”

Beth had to fight the urge to smile herself. “Horrid, indeed.”

“I suppose I shall not put a period to my own life then.”

“We will save that as our Avenue of Last Recourse.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly.

“Meanwhile, we must do something to calm Grandfather. Not much, but enough that he doesn’t rush to put the announcement in the paper. If I can find some way to convince him not to post the banns just yet, then it will give us some time to convince him we should not wed.”

“Beth, society will not let him simply change his mind. You are ruined.”

“I don’t care about that. I never wished to go into society, anyway. Besides, when Grandfather dies, I shall inherit all of his money. If there is one thing I know about society it is that they will always forgive one if one is but wealthy enough.”

“You wouldn’t be happy with a husband won solely on the size of your fortune.”

“Look, Westerville,” she said with a sudden show of asperity. “I don’t want a husband at all. I don’t know why anyone would need one. Anything a husband could provide, I could find here, on my own.”

Christian raised his brows, humor sparkling in his eyes.

Beth flushed. “Almost anything, I mean.”

Christian chuckled.

“Oh, stop that!” She took a deep breath and turned in her seat until she was facing him. “Christian, listen to me. I have decided we must do what we can to stop this marriage. Are you with me, or not?”