Lucas pulled out his timepiece, flipped open the latch, and noted the time. Twenty minutes until midnight. He could last, he told himself. He had promised to stay until midnight, and twenty more minutes wouldn't kill him.

"How I wish I could go with you to your valley," Hampton suddenly blurted out.

Morris looked appalled. He squinted up at his friend through thick glasses. "You can't be serious. You have responsibilities here. Do your title and your lands mean so little to you? I don't believe you really mean it, man. No one in his right mind would give up England and all she has to offer."

Morris was gravely offended by what he considered to be extreme disloyalty to his homeland. He hurled himself into a lecture meant to shame his friend Hampton. Lucas wasn't listening. He'd just spotted the son-of-a-bitch heir across the hall. William Merritt III was the legitimate firstborn son. Lucas was three years younger. He was the bastard. Their father had visited America when he was a young man, and while he was there, he swept an innocent country girl off her feet and into his bed. He gave her his pledge of love, bedded her every night of the month he spent in Kentucky, and then thought to mention he had a wife and a son waiting for him back in England. The son had grown up to be just like his father. He was a self-indulgent demon who thought only of his own pleasures. Loyalty and family values held little meaning for him. Because he was the privileged firstborn, he inherited the land, the title, and whatever funds were left. His father hadn't bothered to make provisions for his other legitimate sons, and his firstborn wasn't about to share the wealth. Jordan, Douglas, and Kelsey weren't just left out in the cold. They'd been thrown there.

Jordan was the first to track Lucas down and ask him for help. He wanted to come to America and start a new life. Lucas hadn't wanted to get involved. Jordan and his brothers were strangers to him. He felt disconnected from the world of privilege they lived in. He was an outsider, and though they shared the same father, he didn't feel any kinship to his half brothers. Family was a concept altogether foreign to him.

Loyalty, however, was another matter.

He couldn't turn his back on Jordan, and he refused to take the time to figure out why. Then Douglas came along, and by then it was too late for Lucas to change his mind. When he traveled to England and saw how Kelsey was being treated, he knew he wouldn't be finished with his duty until he'd found a way to free the youngest from bondage.

The price Lucas had had to pay was well worth his own freedom.

The waltz ended with a crescendo of sound just as Morris finished his spontaneous lecture. The men in the orchestra stood up, then formally bowed to the sound of thunderous applause.

The clapping was suddenly, inexplicably cut off. Couples still lingering on the dance floor turned to the entrance. A hush fell over the guests. Lucas was intrigued by the behavior of the crowd. He turned to see what attraction held everyone so spellbound just as Morris nudged him.

"Not everything in England is tainted," Morris announced. "Have a look, Lucas. The proof of England's superiority stands at the entrance."

From the enthusiasm in his voice, Lucas didn't think he would be surprised to find the queen of England standing there.

"Hampton, get out of his way so he can see," Morris ordered.

"Lucas is a good head taller than every other man here," Hampton muttered. "He can see well enough. Besides, I can't take my gaze off the vision long enough to even consider moving anywhere. God love her, she showed up," he added in a whisper, the adoration in his voice unmistakable. "She's got courage, I'd say. Oh, yes, courage, indeed."

"There's your maverick, Lucas," Morris announced in a voice thick with pride.

The young lady under discussion stood on the top of the steps leading down into the ballroom. The

Englishmen hadn't exaggerated. She really was an incredibly beautiful woman. She wore a royal blue evening gown with a scooped neck that was neither overly revealing nor overly concealing. The dress wasn't molded to her figure, yet it was impossible not to notice her softly rounded curves and her creamy white skin.

She was all alone, and from the faint smile on her face, she didn't seem to be the least bothered by the stir she was causing. She didn't seem to care that her clothing wasn't considered fashionable either. Her skirt wasn't all poofed out at odd angles, and it was apparent she wasn't wearing one of those wire contraptions underneath. Her hair wasn't bound up tight in a braid. The long, golden-colored curls fell in soft waves around her slender shoulders.

No, she wasn't dressed in the uniform of the other women at the ball, and perhaps that was one reason she held every man's rapt attention. She was a refreshing diversion in perfection.

Lucas was certainly affected by the sight of such loveliness. He instinctively blinked. She didn't disappear. He couldn't see the color of her eyes, but he already knew they were blue… candlelight blue. They had to be.

He was suddenly having difficulty drawing a breath. A tightness settled inside his chest, and his heart started slamming a wild beat. Hell, he was acting like a schoolboy. It was humiliating.

"She really is a maverick," Hampton agreed. "Will you look at the marquess? He's standing directly across the ballroom. I declare I can see the lust in his eyes even from this considerable distance. I imagine his new wife sees it, too. Look how she's glaring at him. Lord, this really is quite delightful. I do believe justice is finally being served to the blackheart. He's getting his due now. God, I'm sorry, Lucas. I shouldn't be talking about your half brother with such disrespect."

"I don't consider him family," Lucas replied in a hard, unbending voice. "He disowned the rest of us years ago. And you're right, Hampton," he added. "Justice has been served in more ways than even you realize."

Hampton gave him a quizzical look. "You've made me mighty curious, Lucas. What is it you know that we don't?"

"He probably heard all about the humiliation," Morris speculated. He didn't wait for Lucas to confirm or deny his statement but hurried on to give the full report just in case he hadn't heard every single little detail.

"The beautiful vision in blue smiling so sweetly was engaged to your half brother, but I'm certain you already knew that much of the story," he began. "William could have had it all. He was quite smooth while he courted her, and she, so young and innocent, surely found him attractive. Then, just two weeks before the wedding was scheduled to take place, William eloped with his fiancee's cousin, Jane. Over five hundred people had been invited to the celebration, and of course, all had to be notified of the cancellation. It was going to be the bash of the season all right. Can you imagine the disgrace of having to call the thing off at such a late hour?"

Hampton nodded. "Do you see how Jane is clinging to William now? Oh, this is priceless. It really is. William isn't even trying to hide his lustful thoughts. I wouldn't be surprised if he started drooling. Jane's a pale shadow next to what he gave up, isn't she?"

Lucas wasn't amused. "He's a fool," he muttered.

Hampton agreed with a nod. "I despise William

Merritt. He's a crook and a manipulator. He duped my father, then publicly boasted of his cleverness. My father was humiliated."

"Look what William did to his own brothers," Morris said.

"He almost destroyed Jordan and Douglas, didn't he?" Hampton asked.

"He did," Morris answered. "William's getting his just reward, all right. He's going to be miserable the rest of his life. Jane's every bit as vile as he is. They make a frightening couple, don't they? Rumor has it she's carrying his child. I pity the babe if that gossip is true."

"She could be carrying," Hampton agreed. "The two were blatantly carrying on while he was engaged. Jane's going to be sorry, too. She thinks William has quite an inheritance left."

"Doesn't he?" Lucas asked the question.

Hampton shook his head. "It will soon come out with the wash. He's as destitute as a beggar. The fool speculated and lost every pound he had. The bankers own his land now. He's probably counting on Jane getting a fat inheritance when old Lady Stapleton dies. She was ailing, but I understand she made another miraculous recovery."

The music started up again. The crowd was forced to quit gawking. Taylor lifted the hem of her gown and walked down the steps. Lucas couldn't take his gaze off her. He took a step toward her, then stopped to look at his timepiece again.

Ten more minutes left. He could last that long. Just ten more minutes and then he would be free. He let out a loud sigh of satisfaction and smiled in anticipation.

Lady Taylor was also smiling. She was following her grandmother's orders to the letter. She had forced a smile on her face the second she'd walked through the doorway, and by God, no one was going to do or say anything to make her frown.

She would smile. She would celebrate. It was agony. She was so sick inside over the mockery of it all, her stomach felt as though it were on fire.

Taylor forced herself not to give in to despair. She must look forward to the future, she thought, echoing her grandmother's words to her. The babies needed her.

Young, unattached men came rushing forward. Taylor ignored them. She looked around the ballroom, trying to find her escort. She spotted her cousin, Jane, then William, but refused to allow herself to stare at either one of them. Her heart started pounding. Dear God, what would she do if they came over to her? What would she say to them? Congratulations? Oh, God, she'd die first or throw up. She hadn't considered the possibility they would attend the affair. Her mind had been consumed with her worry about her grandmother. There hadn't been room for lesser concerns. Ironically, Madam had made quite an improvement that afternoon, and when Taylor had taken her leave, she was hopeful her grandmother had truly been given another reprieve.

An eager young man she knew she'd met before but couldn't remember where or when begged her for the honor of escorting her onto the dance floor. Taylor graciously declined. He had just turned away from her when she heard Jane's distinctive high-pitched laughter. She turned to look, spotted Jane's malicious smile, and then noticed a young lady turn and hurry toward the exit. Taylor recognized the girl. She was Lady Catherine, the youngest of Sir Connan's offspring and barely fifteen years old.

Getting married hadn't improved Jane's disposition. Catherine had just become her latest victim, Taylor decided, when she saw the look of devastation on the poor girl's face.

Taylor was suddenly overwhelmed with melancholy. Cruelty was a sport some of her relatives thoroughly enjoyed. She was sickened by their meanness, and in her present state of mind, she simply didn't know how to combat it any longer. She felt useless, inept. She had always known she didn't fit in with the upper crust of England's society, and perhaps that was why she always had her head in the clouds and her nose in the dime novels. Yes, she was a dreamer, just as her grandmother had accused, but Taylor didn't think that was so terrible. Reality was often quite ugly, and it would have been completely unbearable if she hadn't been able to daydream every now and then. It was escapism, pure and simple.

She loved romantic stories most of all. Unfortunately, the only heroes she'd ever known were those dashing figures she'd read about. Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett were her favorites. They were long dead now, but the romantic legends surrounding their lives still enchanted writers and readers alike.

Madam wanted her to become a realist, and all because she believed there weren't any heroes left.

Lady Catherine was in such a state of despair, she very nearly knocked Taylor down on her way to the steps. She was thinking only of running away from the cruelty.

Taylor grabbed hold of the distraught girl. "Do slow down, Catherine."

"Please let me pass," Catherine begged.

Tears were already streaming down her face. Taylor refused to let go of her arm. "Quit crying," she ordered. "You aren't going anywhere. If you leave, it will be all the more difficult for you to show your face in public again. You can't allow Jane to have such power over you."

"You don't know what happened," Catherine wailed. "She said… she's telling everyone I…"