"I suspected as much. You're smiling like a woman in love."

"Nothing so romantic, Claire. But as you say, amusing, certainly."

"You must wear something delicious."

"As if I have anything so risque."

"We'll find something, and I'll have Daniel bring up the best champagne."

"And perhaps some cognac. I'm not sure what he likes."

"He likes you, my lady. He's not coming for the liquor."

"Do you think so?" It was a delectable thought when her life had been so devoid of happiness.

"I know so." Claire refrained from saying all the servants at the Hotel de Paris had never been so generously bribed into silence. As relatives who could be trusted, she and Daniel had received a full report.

Sometime later, when Felicia had been bathed, toweled off, perfumed and was seated on the terrace in her robe having her hair dried by Claire, two carriages appeared on the steep drive.

"Oh, Lord, is he here already?"

"No, no… the carriages are from Boulonge and Madame Denise. See, Henri and Bertram are driving."

Under their curious gazes, the carriages were unloaded of an astonishing number of baskets filled with roses and a lavish array of beribboned boxes in the distinctive periwinkle blue of Madame Denise's exclusive shop.

And in only minutes more, when the gifts had been carried upstairs to Felicia's suite, she found herself surrounded by an overwhelming quantity of various-colored roses and blue boxes. Fluctuating between alarm and joy at Flynn's extravagant gesture, she anxiously surveyed the spectacle. "I don't know, Claire…" The scandalous gifts of lingerie were causing her a level of discomfort no matter how much she adored the giver. "Should I send the lingerie back?"

"Of course you won't," her housekeeper repudiated, continuing to unpack the sumptuous finery. "They're lover's gifts."

"I'm not sure…" Felicia's expression mirrored her uncertainty. "What will Madame Denise think of me?"

"She'll think you're a very lucky woman to have such a wealthy lover. And you can't possibly wear your high-necked linen nightgowns for a love tryst."

Felicia plucked at the skirt of her plain linen robe, the sensible garment in sharp contrast to Flynn's beautiful gifts. The intimate attire Claire had put out on display was a veritable flower garden of radiant color: peignoirs and negligees, lacy drawers and sheer corsets, dozens of silk stockings in every imaginable hue with matching satin slippers. She had often admired the magnificent creations in the windows of the exclusive shop, but the frothy confections had been beyond the reach of her modest salary. "I could just try one on."

"Try these first." Her servant held up a lilac lace corset adorned with white rosebuds and ribbon rosettes along with a matching lace petticoat so lavishly ruffled, it had the look of a ball gown-a very expensive one.

"If I accept these gifts…" Felicia sighed, struggling against her conscience. "They're so highly indecent-completely immodest and-"

Claire's disbelieving snort interrupted Felicia's litany. "They're the most beautiful lingerie you've ever had. You're not in Scotland now, my lady. You're also a widow, not a schoolgirl. You don't even have to worry about cuckolding a husband. It's high time you had a lover. And," she added with pithy emphasis, "a lady always dresses to please her lover."

"High time, you think…"

"You're going to dry up and blow away, but if that's what you want?" Claire shrugged, a particularly Gallic shrug, brusque and dismissive.

The stark reminder of her lonely future vanquished the last of Felicia's reservations. "You're right," she quietly said.

"Of course I'm right. Now, let's see that you look ravishing for your Mr. Suffolk."

"He's not mine," Felicia corrected, thinking Flynn was the least likely man to belong to anyone.

"He is today." Claire's smile was conspiratorial. "And who knows, poppet, with your beauty and charm…"

"How romantic, but you haven't met Flynn. He's not a romantic."

"He didn't send you gloves or a book now, did he? And your diamond bracelet is the kind of romance any woman would love."

"He does this for all the ladies in his life."

Claire's shrug discounted Felicia's comment. "You're going to be the loveliest woman he's ever seen, and if you have any sense, you'll stop making excuses and enjoy yourself. Now take off that robe and put these on before he arrives and finds you in that plain thing."

Felicia smiled. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

"Just hurry," Claire briskly replied, shaking out the garments. "He'll be here soon."

Felicia gave herself up to Claire's ministrations and to her edifying homilies on love and lovers, allowing the happiness she felt at the promise of seeing Flynn again fill her senses. And when she saw herself in the cheval glass, adorned in lilac lace fit for a queen, she felt as though she had been transported and transformed and indeed might be some fairy queen bedecked for her lover-on a very warm summer day, she facetiously noted, the sheer corset and petticoat the merest of coverings.

"Now just a light peignoir, my lady. Something to cover but not conceal," Claire added with a cheerful wink. "This white lace is nicely demure."

"It's hardly demure. It's so sheer, one can see right through it."

"He'll love it." Claire held out the lacy robe. "And think, poppet, when have you ever been so happy?"

She was indeed happy, and Flynn would be here soon unless these lavish gifts were intended as a polite goodbye. Although lingerie or certainly this much lingerie suggested a shamelessly serviceable gift instead. Felicia smiled. She rather thought Flynn had something in mind. "Tell me again I'm doing the right thing," Felicia murmured, slipping her arms into the peignoir, needing reassurance after a lifetime of dutiful behavior.

Claire rolled her eyes. "After all our struggles? After almost losing the villa? How can you even ask? He's a gift from heaven."

"I'll have memories at least in my old age."

"Life is to be lived every day, child. You'll have memories tomorrow."

Recall of the previous night made her smile. "It is rather nice to give in to impulse on occasion."

"Which you should do more often," Claire observed, pleased her young charge had at last tasted the joys of love. "Now eat your breakfast," she briskly ordered. "You need some food after your sleepless night. I made your favorite Savarin chocolate and toasted baba. While you're eating, I'll check that Daniel has the champagne ready-and the cognac," she added, curtailing Felicia's reminder. "And then, I'll be right back."

Too excited to eat after Claire left, Felicia moved from gift to gift, smelling each bouquet of roses, touching each item of lingerie, sliding the fine fabrics through her hands and wondering if all miracles were so incredibly sweet. And she would stop to admire her glamorous image reflected in the mirror from time to time. So must all paramours look, she cheerfully thought, displayed to advantage in scanty bits of lace meant for a lover's eyes only. Even lilac satin, high-heeled slippers had been included, so from the tips of her lilac toes to the top of her ruffled curls she was elegantly attired in wanton splendor.

And if she wasn't so dizzy with excitement at seeing Flynn again, she might take issue with the blatant sexual nature of his gifts. She wasn't sophisticated enough to completely ignore the impropriety, but she was infatuated enough not to care. In the grip of a mad and glorious exultation, nothing mattered but wondrous amour.

At the sound of racing footsteps on the stairs, she spun around and laughed with joy. He was here!

A moment later, the door crashed open and hit the wall with such force the paintings quivered. But no lover met Felicia's horrified gaze.

"So this is how you've earned the money to pay me, you whoring slut." Cousin Dickie's mouth was lifted in a sneer, his obese body seemingly larger than life in the sudden hush. Moving into the room, he surveyed the profusion of gifts with a withering glance. "I always thought you were a tart with your big breasts and cheeky impudence."

"I'm sorry, my lady." Daniel stood in the doorway, his attempts to stop Dickie unsuccessful. "I told him to leave, that you had the money to pay him, but he wouldn't listen."

"Never mind, Daniel. It's not your fault. I'm expecting a guest. If you'd see that he's comfortable in the drawing room, I'll be down soon." Turning to her cousin, she coolly said, "You're not welcome here. Kindly leave or I'll call the gendarmes."

Ignoring her, Dickie picked up a black lace corset and held it between his thumb and forefinger as though it were odorous. "Really…" His voice was oily. "And what would you tell them? That you earn your money as a whore? You might wish to reconsider," he unctuously noted. "And I'm not sure such illicit wages will serve as proper payment for my share of the villa. I'll have to check with my lawyer." He dropped the scrap of black lace. "Are you waiting for another customer?" The lechery in his eyes sent a chill up her spine. "Perhaps you could entertain me in the interim."

"I'd rather kill myself." Felicia held her peignoir tightly closed. "Or better yet you."

"How fierce you sound," he murmured, a loathsome smile on his fat face. "I'm intrigued."

"While I'm repelled as always in your presence. You'll have your money by the end of the day, and that's all you'll get. I want you gone now and out of my life."

"Wouldn't you, now?" Dickie's prominent eyes had a reptilian cast. "I was just thinking," he murmured, as though she had not spoken, "with your new-found wealth, I may have to raise my price."

"I have your lawyer's agreement. You can't."

"You have no idea what I can do," he silkily drawled. "What if I were to tell your brother about your new livelihood. How do you think Ann would like a whore for a sister-in-law, dear Felicia?"

"Mind your tongue when you speak to my wife!"

The deep voice slashed through the warm spring air, fury in every syllable.

Felicia's eyes flared wide. Cousin Dickie pivoted, prepared to do battle.

Until he saw the tall, powerful man in the doorway with eyes chill as the grave. His face turned ashen. "Your… Grace…," he stammered, his body frozen in place. "I had… I mean… I didn't-I had… no idea."

"And now you do." Harsh, grating words struck like a blow.

"She's your wife?" Dickie blurted out, incredulity overcoming fear. The Duke of Grafton was the most eligible bachelor in the western world.

"You heard me," Flynn growled. "My wife. Now get the hell out of my sight. And if you're still in Monte Carlo twenty minutes from now, I'm going to find you and kill you." Without another glance for the red-faced man making for the exit, Flynn moved toward Felicia. "Forgive me, darling," he gently said, as though he had not just threatened a man's life. "I'm sorry I was late." And like a child rescued from a fiery dragon, Felicia rushed into his arms. Gathering her close, he gazed down at her upturned face, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Before that rude encounter, I meant to mention you look good enough to eat in those…"

"Unmentionables." Her lashes fluttered in demure parody.

"Ah-" Amused understanding sparkled in his eyes. "We must be discreet away from the Hotel de Paris. If I were to take care with the exact wording, might I do-"

"Anything at all…"

His grin was sinful. "Then, I hope you have considerable leisure, because anything at all quite boggles the mind."

"I have all the time in the world," she murmured. "Now that you've scared Dickie away." She eased away slightly and surveyed him with a mild gravity. "But you needn't have gone so far, Flynn. Dickie will talk. There's sure to be gossip."

"We could marry and deter scandalous rumor," he lightly proposed.

She gently shook her head. "I appreciate your gesture, but such a sacrifice is unnecessary. I live outside society, no one knows me, my family is distant and unconcerned-"

"Don't you wish to marry me?" A faint frown drew his brows together.

"Be serious, Flynn."

"I am."

"Of course you're not. You were about to leave Monte Carlo this morning. You'd hate to be married."

Her blunt directness forced him to question his motives. "Maybe I wouldn't."

She laughed. "Maybe? There, you see. You'd be out the door and halfway to Asia before a week was up."

"Have you considered you might be opposed to marriage?"

"What if I am? I've reason enough."

"This wouldn't be the same."

"Flynn! Stop. You don't know what you're saying. Think for a minute, are you actually willing to give up your freedom?" Her expression sobered. "Because I'd require fidelity."