"Damn you!" she gasped as she slid over the precipice.

When she finally awoke, she was to her utter amazement back in her own bed, her nightgown neatly tied at the neckline, the sun peeping through the draperies. Had she imagined it all? Was it a drug-induced dream brought on by Martha's tea? No. She had had no tea last night. She shifted herself beneath the coverlet, wincing at the sudden soreness between her thighs. It had been no dream! Valerian Hawkesworth had caught her running away, and he had… forced… seduced… made utterly incredible love to her! And he was going to make her marry him. Aurora burrowed down deeper beneath the bedding.

She had enjoyed it. Dear God, she had enjoyed it! It had been what she had been waiting for all her life. She had been totally and utterly wanton, practically encouraging his attentions. His lips had been so knowing against hers. His hands had touched her so tenderly, and she had let him. She hadn't really resisted him at all. He had called her his precious. He had said he loved her. And they had done it twice! She hadn't realized that you could do it twice in the same night. Damn him for a rogue! Would he tell anyone? Would others be able to tell by just looking at her what had transpired between Aurora Kimberly and Valerian Hawkesworth? She was going to die!

The door to her bedchamber opened slowly, and Martha entered the room. "Good morning, miss," she said brightly, and going to the window, she pulled the drapes. Then she put the painted screen about Aurora's bed. "The footmen is bringing the bath up now, miss. His grace has given orders that you're to be ready by eleven o'clock."

"Ready for what?" Aurora demanded, but Martha apparently didn't hear her mistress. Aurora could hear the footsteps of the servants lugging the tub into the room, setting it by the fire, pouring the buckets of hot water into the vessel. She smelled the honeysuckle and woodbine she favored permeating the air in the room. Martha bustled about, giving orders to unseen servants. Then it was quiet.

The screen was folded back. "Come along, miss, and hop out of your bed. I've got to do your hair too, and we've just got two hours."

"What is this all about, Martha," Aurora said as she climbed from the bed. "What is going on?"

"I don't know myself," the servant said honestly. "All I know is that the duke has ordered it, and told me what you're to wear, and that you're to be ready by eleven. He certainly ain't going to confide in a servant, miss. You'll have to ask him yourself." She whisked her mistress's nightgown off, laying it aside, helping the girl into her tub. If she noticed the dried blood on Aurora's thighs, she said nothing either by word or by look. Instead, she went to work washing the girl's brown-blond hair thoroughly, rinsing it, toweling it roughly, and wrapping a linen cloth about Aurora's head. "Now, don't dawdle, miss. We've got to dry your hair and style it properly, so wash quickly." She handed Aurora a sea sponge and a cloth along with a cake of soap.

Silently Aurora bathed herself, wondering as she did so what Valerian Hawkesworth was up to, and why no one else seemed to know. Stepping from the tub, she let Martha dry her and wrap her in a large towel. Then she sat by the fire while her servant brushed her hair until it was dry, and then rubbed it with a piece of silk until it was shining. The door opened, and both Sally and Molly entered, their arms filled.

Martha yanked the towel from her mistress, and then snatched a garment from atop the pile Molly carried, sliding it over Aurora's arms. It was a small corset, and Aurora normally did not wear one, but so stunned was she by what was going on, she did not protest as Martha laced up the little garment, just enough to give her shape, but not so tightly that she couldn't breathe. She had seen women in London overcome and unable to breathe, so tight were their stays. Her breasts, however, threatened to burst from the garment.

The three servants pulled the girl this way and that as they continued dressing her in silk stockings with tight rosette garters, a hooped petticoat support made of bent wood covered with a flannel petticoat, two linen petticoats, and two silk petticoats.

"Let me do her hair before we put on the gown," Martha said.

The two younger servants lifted the hoop so she might sit, and Martha took up her brush and began to style her mistress's hair. Today there were no flirtatious little curls on either side of Aurora's head. Instead, Martha fashioned an elegant chignon which she dressed with a strand of little seed pearls and silk flowers. She pinned and brushed, patted and stared until she was completely satisfied. When she was finished, she nodded to the other two, and the dress was brought.

Aurora stared hard. "It looks like a wedding gown," she said.

"It does," Martha agreed.

"I'm not putting it on," she told the servants mutinously.

"Now, miss, there's no good fussing at me. I'm just doing what the duke and the dowager told me to do. He can be a hard man, the master. If you don't get into this gown right now, and I've got to go and tell him so, the three of us could be dismissed. Now, here's a good girl, miss. Where would me and Sally go without references? You wouldn't do that to us after all our years of faithful service to the Kimberly family, would you?"

"Oh, put the damn thing on me, then," she grumbled as they lowered the cream-colored velvet trimmed in ermine over her. The neckline of the gown, despite its edging of fur, looked indecent to Aurora, for the corset made her breasts swell dangerously over its edge.

Molly knelt before her, slipping her shoes with their decorative rosettes onto Aurora's feet. Rising, she stepped back and said, "Oh, miss, don't you look grand!"

Sally stepped forward. "His grace asked that you wear these," she said, proffering a box at Aurora.

Opening the slightly tattered leather case, Aurora gasped. Lying within upon a bed of yellowed white silk was an incredible necklace unlike anything she had ever seen. Each stone was cut in the shape of a heart and set in a pinkish gold. From the center of the necklace a large pear-shaped pearl hung. It was the biggest pearl she had ever seen,

"Why, them stones is the exact color of your eyes, miss," Martha noted, taking the necklace up and fastening it about Aurora's neck.

Aurora stared into the mirror. The necklace sat flat upon her chest beneath her collarbone, the pearl dipping toward her cleavage. It was probably the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in all her life. Then she blushed, remembering his remarks the previous evening about the necklace. She couldn't imagine wearing such a jewel in public. It was so sensuous and decadent.

Martha set a deep blue velvet cape over Aurora's shoulders and handed her a pair of long, creamy kid gloves which the girl drew on slowly. "Come along now, miss. The clock is about to strike eleven."

Downstairs, Peters greeted her politely. "The carriage is waiting for you, miss. Martha is to ride with you." He handed the serving woman her cloak and ushered them outside, where the footmen waited to help them into the vehicle.

The coach moved off. Aurora did not need to ask where it was going. She would have been a fool not to know. When they reached their destination, it would be St. Anne's Church, and indeed it was. The grooms jumped down from the back of the carriage where they had been riding, and opening the door, pulled down the steps and helped the two passengers out. The dowager and Lady Elsie were awaiting them upon the stone porch of the church.

"I am pleased by this," the dowager told Aurora, "but shocked by the haste with which my grandson has effected this event."

"He has given me no choice in the matter," Aurora replied. "My sister is hardly in her grave, and he is forcing me to the altar. You know the deception of which I am guilty, ma'am. If I had wished to marry Valerian in the first place, I would have done so."

"Oh, my dear," twittered Lady Elsie, "Sir Ronald will not marry you if you are being coerced. It goes against Christian law."

"As the duke has taken my virtue from me already, and has threatened to dispossess George's family from St. Timothy, Lady Elsie, I believe I must acquiesce to Valerian Hawkesworth's demands. Besides, there is the little matter of my betrothal, is there not? It is all, I fear, quite legal. His grace has the law on his side."

Lady Bowen grew beet red with the bride's indelicate admission. "Quite," she managed to say. Heaven forfend that Betsy and her dear husband suffer the consequences of this outrageous chit's unruly behavior!

The dowager's blue eyes twinkled. "Would you be so kind," she said to Lady Bowen, "to tell Sir Ronald that we are ready, m'dear?" And when the good woman had bustled into the church, she turned to Aurora, saying, "Do not let him bully you further, my child. By marrying him you right the wrong you previously committed against him. All debts are now paid in full, especially given your revelation of a moment ago. I will ask nothing, you understand," she murmured with a smile. "You look none the worse for wear. If he is like the rest of the men in the family, he is a vigorous lover. Now, let us get this business over and done with, Aurora Kimberly, so we can get on with our lives. And remember, I will be your ally in most cases. Men are charming, and an absolute necessity, but they are not always particularly intelligent." She then linked an arm in Aurora's and led her into the church.

Inside, an altar boy hurried forward to remove her cloak and hand the bride a small nosegay of white rosebuds tied with gold ribbons. She accepted them, smiling at the child, and then continued on with the dowager to the altar, Martha following them.

The church looked very much as it had a few days before, when George and Betsy had been married. Lace-trimmed white linen bedecked the altar with its gold candelabra burning beeswax candles. The duke awaited her dressed in cream-colored breeches, a flowered waistcoat, and a fawn-colored coat with silver buttons. Lace dripped from his sleeves and from the neckline of his fine cambric shirt. He was wearing a wig the dark color of his own hair, a small queue tied with a ribbon at the back of his neck.

Sir Ronald, however, did not look very happy with the part he was about to play. The duke had appeared in his home at ten o'clock that morning and presented him with a special license he had obtained from the local magistrate at the crack of dawn. He explained briefly the deception that had been played upon him, and said the whole matter would be corrected by his immediate marriage to Aurora Kimberly. When the minister had protested the unseemly haste and the scandal it would cause, the duke had shrugged. Then he had suggested that if Sir Ronald did not perform the ceremony, his eldest daughter's life could be changed for the worse. The cleric was outraged. He had never before imagined Valerian Hawkesworth capable of such harshness toward others, but he realized he had no choice in the matter.

The bride came quietly forward with the dowager and her servant, who would, along with Lady Elsie, act as witnesses. Sir Ronald then performed the ceremony that united Valerian Hawkesworth to Aurora Kimberly. When it was over, and the duke had kissed his bride, Sir Ronald softened his stance. It was, after all, not the bride's fault that her new husband was such a hothead, and he had, despite the unseemly haste, only righted a wrong, and they were, after all, family now. He shook the duke's hand and offered his genuine congratulations.

"There will be no further celebration," the duke said, "for we are in mourning for my wife's sister." Then with a smile in Lady Elsie's direction he escorted his bride from the church to the coach.

"You may not gossip about this until Sunday," the dowager told Lady Elsie sternly. "Not even to your girls. Especially not to your girls or your servants. St. John must be told first, you understand."

"Yes, your g-grace" came the nervous reply.

"If I hear so much as a whisper, I shall know where it came from, m'dear, and then I shall not introduce your Isabelle to that nice young baronet I have in mind for her. Such a handsome man, and two thousand a year plus a manor house and a hundred acres." She smiled toothily at Lady Bowen. "Good day, m'dear." Then she hurried off to get into the coach.