"Your betrothal. But don't worry about it now. There's plenty of time to discuss it tomorrow." She turned to Gideon. "It appears we no longer require your services, Mr. Mayne. I'll see to it that your belongings are packed up and returned to you tomorrow."

And suddenly it hit Julianne that the investigation was indeed over. Which meant that Gideon wouldn't be guarding her any longer. He wouldn't be coming back to Grosvenor Square tonight. There wouldn't be any more nights. Any more days. No more time. No more Gideon.

Her mother once again commandeered Julianne's arm. "Come along, Julianne. The carriage is waiting."

Once again Julianne shook free. "I'll join you in a moment, Mother."

Her mother heaved a sigh. "If you feel you must speak with Mr. Mayne, I'll wait."

Julianne lifted her chin and spoke to her mother with a firmness she couldn't recall ever using before. "As the man saved my life, I do want to talk to him. And I shall do so without you listening."

Her mother's lips pursed as if she'd sucked on a lemon. Julianne knew she couldn't claim there was need of a chaperone as at least a dozen people still lingered in the room. Finally the countess nodded. "Very well. You may have two minutes. Then I'll expect you in the carriage."

After her mother left, Julianne turned to Gideon. There were so many things she wanted say, but all the words stuck in her tight, dry throat. Words she wished she had the courage to utter. I love you. Do you love me? I want you. Do you want me, too? I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me? She hoped he might speak, but he remained silent, just looking at her with an expression she couldn't read.

Nerves assailed her, and she pressed her suddenly damp palms against her gown. Moistened her lips. Then began, "If you need your belongings tonight, you may come to the house-"

"No," he said quickly. So quickly it was clear he didn't want to return to the house. "Having them sent to me is fine."

Julianne felt her time running out, and a sense of panic seized her. Unable to think of a way to delicately ask what she wanted, needed to know, she simply whispered, "Will I see you again?"

Her heart beat in painful thumps waiting for his reply, trying to read his unreadable eyes. And then suddenly she could read them. Saw his answer. And his regret. And it felt as if her heart ceased beating. And instead began to bleed.

"The investigation is over," he said quietly.

She had to swallow twice to find her voice. "Which means that you and me… what we shared… is over as well." She'd found her voice, but it was utterly flat. And seemed to come from very far away.

"I'm afraid so. Julianne, I hope you know-" His words cut off and he raked a hand through his hair. "I want you to know that I… I'll never forget you."

She looked up at him and hid nothing. Let him see her heart and the depth of her love for him. Offered herself with her eyes. And he saw it. She knew he did. And so she waited. Until she couldn't stand the silence any longer. Then she asked in as steady a voice as she could muster, "Is that all you have to say to me, Gideon?"

Gideon stared into blue eyes filled with so much hope and yearning and love it actually hurt to look. He could tell her that he loved her, would always love her, but what good would that do either of them? He could tell her that if their situations were different-if she weren't an earl's daughter, or if he were a peer-he'd marry her in a heartbeat. But again, what good would that do? Their situation wasn't different.

But he had to say something. He reached out and gently took her hand. And forced himself not to dwell on the fact that it was the last time he would touch her.

"I hope," he said quietly, his gaze steady on hers, "that all your wishes and dreams come true."

For several seconds those blue eyes gazed into his. Then all the hope and yearning leaked away, breaking his heart in the process. She slowly withdrew her hand from his.

"I wish the same for you," she said in a broken whisper. "Good-bye, Gideon."

And then she turned and walked away.

Leaving him with a broken heart and a shattered soul. And a very bleak future.


* * *

The following afternoon, Gideon sat in his study, doing the same thing he'd been doing since finally arriving home just before dawn: staring at the mantel. Thinking. Of things he needed to forget but knew he never would. Remembering. Her every word and touch that were branded in his brain. Aching. With a bone-deep pain he despaired of ever ridding himself of.

He blew out a long, tired sigh. If he had to sum up this situation in one word, it would have to be how. How had he allowed himself to fall so deeply, so hopelessly in love? How was he going to get through the next day, the next week, the next year, without her? How was he going to stand thinking of her married to someone else?

How the bloody hell was it possible to hurt so badly yet still breathe?

He'd tried to dull the ache with whiskey, but after the first hour realized the folly of that, since there wasn't enough whiskey in the kingdom to make him forget Julianne. So he'd capped the decanter and tried to concentrate on his headache rather than his heartache. And failed completely.

Caesar came to him and plopped his head on Gideon's knee, his soulful eyes filled with canine misery. Gideon scratched behind the dog's ears. "You lost your lady love, too, didn't you, boy?"

Caesar made the most pitiful sound Gideon had ever heard from the beast.

"I know exactly how you feel."

Caesar shifted his eyes to the whiskey decanter, and Gideon shook his head. "Take it from me, it doesn't help. It tastes foul and just gives you a bloody headache. And you don't get your woman back."

Caesar let out a mighty sigh, one Gideon was tempted to emulate, except it hurt too much to breathe that deeply. He dragged his hands down his face, grimacing at the rough scrape of his unshaven jaw.

The brass knocker on the front door sounded, rousing Caesar, who dashed from the room barking crazily, as if grateful to have something to do other than mope. Gideon hauled himself out of his chair and made his way to the foyer, wondering who was calling yet not really caring. His portmanteau had been delivered hours ago by Ethan. He'd hoped there might be a note from Julianne, but there wasn't. And although he was disappointed, what more was there to say?

When he reached the foyer, he quieted Caesar, then opened the door. And raised his brows in surprise at the sight of Matthew, Daniel, and Logan standing on his steps.

"You look like hell," Logan said.

Gideon blinked. "Uh… I'm not quite sure what to say to that except I feel like hell, too."

"It shows," Matthew said. "May we come in? There's something we need to discuss with you."

Gideon opened the door wider. "Of course." He led them to his study, where long rays of afternoon sunshine slanted through the windows. Once they were all seated, Matthew said, "I had a very interesting conversation with my wife on the way home in the middle of the night. It prompted me to call upon Daniel early this morning-"

"And it turns out I'd had a similar conversation with my wife on the ride home."

Logan cleared his throat. "I have no wife and therefore had no such conversation, but Daniel and Matthew were kind enough to include me in their plan."

"What plan is that?" asked Gideon.

"That depends on you. On what you decide to do about this." Matthew pulled an envelope from his waistcoat pocket and held it out to Gideon.

Gideon hesitated then took the envelope. "What is it?"

"One way to find out," Daniel said.

Mystified, Gideon opened the envelope and withdrew the contents. Scanned the paper. Frowned. Then read the words more carefully. Finally he looked up. And found three sets of serious eyes resting on him.

"This appears to be a special license," he said.

"That's because it is a special license," Matthew confirmed. "Arranged for today by the three of us at the Archbishop of Canterbury's London office in Doctors Commons."

"How did you manage this?" he asked, his gaze shifting back to the document, unable to quite believe what he was holding. He once again read the names Gideon Mayne and Lady Julianne Bradley printed on the official document.

"It took a bit of doing," Daniel said.

"Yes, but there isn't much an earl, a marquess, and a very persistent American can't accomplish if they set their minds to it," Logan said with a slight smile.

"But why would you do this?" Gideon asked. His gaze shifted between Matthew and Daniel. Surely a marquess and an earl wouldn't approve of a match between him and Julianne. Yet impossibly, based on the paper he held, it seemed they would.

"Because apparently Carolyn would have married Daniel if he were a baker," Matthew said. "And Sarah was willing to marry me even when it looked as if I'd be floundering in massive debt the rest of my life. And because of Themistocles."

Gideon shook his head, utterly confused. "Who?"

"A powerful Greek statesman during the fifth century BC. His daughter was torn between two marriage offers-one from a man of modest means with great character, the other from a man of her social class who was of questionable character. When her friends posed a similar question to Julianne, she unhesitatingly quoted Themistocles, 'I choose a man without money rather than money without a man.'"

Everything inside Gideon stilled. His heart. His blood. His breath. Then they leapt back to life with a force that rendered him speechless.

"We wanted you, and her, to have a choice," Daniel said.

"Before her damn father marries her off to some other useless Lord Something-or-Other," Logan said. He grinned at Matthew and Daniel. "No offense intended."

Matthew uttered something under his breath that sounded like Bloody American, then said to Gideon, "Everything is being readied for the ceremony to take place at my house at five o'clock. With us, our wives, and Lady Emily serving as witnesses."

Gideon could only stare. "Today?"

Matthew nodded then consulted his watch. "Today. In precisely one hour and nineteen minutes." He slipped his watch back in his waistcoat pocket. "The only things missing are a bride and groom."

Gideon looked down at the paper clutched in his hands. A piece of paper that had the power to give him everything he wanted. Everything he hadn't dared hope could be his. It appeared Julianne wanted him. In spite of his lack of social status and fortune. Not that he was poor. Yet neither was he rich. He nodded his chin at the special license. "This must have cost a fortune."

"Consider it a wedding gift," Logan said.

"She'll lose her family," Gideon said.

"Yes," Matthew agreed. "But she won't lose her friends."

"We can promise you that," Daniel said, and Logan nodded his agreement.

Hope burst through Gideon, so strong, he was grateful he was sitting down, because he felt a bit unsteady.

"I wouldn't have dared to ask her," he said quietly.

"Which is why we're here, meddling," Matthew said, "at our wives' behest."

"Right," Daniel said. "Because we're not normally meddlers, you know."

Logan looked toward the ceiling. "You Brits. Always talking in circles." He fixed his gaze on Gideon. "Well? What's it going to be?"

Gideon drew a deep breath. Then smiled. "The only thing missing now is a bride."


* * *

Forty-five minutes later, freshly shaven and wearing his finest garments, Gideon entered the foyer of the mansion on Grosvenor Square, Caesar at his heels. "I'd like to see Lady Julianne, please," he said to Winslow.

"I'll see if she's at home," the butler said. His gaze flicked down to the small bouquet of flowers Gideon clutched but made no comment. He headed down the corridor, and Gideon had to force himself not to pace. Winslow returned a moment later and said, "Lady Julianne is in the music room. She'll see you now."

Gideon and Caesar followed Winslow's straight back, and with every step, Gideon's heart thumped harder. "Mr. Mayne," Winslow announced at the door.

Gideon crossed the threshold, barely noting Winslow's departure as his gaze settled on Julianne. She stood next to the pianoforte, wearing a pale aqua gown that made her eyes look even bluer than usual.