"Fortunately, my lord," she said with as much calm as she could muster, "I live in England, where one may expect to have one's freedom upheld in a court of law, and I am of age. I will not be married merely because I have a desirable body or merely because I have transgressed a rule of a society that I have lived without all my life. I am a person, Lord Rutherford, and when I marry-if I marry-it will be to a man who believes that he cannot live a complete life without that person-all of it. All of me. Call me a hopeless romantic if you wish. Yes, that is what I am. I will not marry because I must. I will marry only when I will."

He was staring at her with wide-open eyes, the harsh, arrogant look completely gone. Jessica picked up the book very deliberately from the table where he had laid it, stepped past him, and left the room. When she turned to shut the door quietly behind her, it was to find that he had not moved.

14

Lord Rutherford stood for a long time in the same spot after Jessica had left the library, his eyes closed, his hands clenched loosely at his sides. She would not marry a man who wanted her for her physical attractions merely, she had said, or one who offered only because she had broken society's rules. She would marry only the man who could assure her that he wanted all of her, her whole person. She would marry only a man who loved her.

Had he failed, could he possibly have failed to show her that he was such a man? Could he possibly have given the impression that he wanted her only for one of the first two reasons? Surely not. He loved her so very deeply, had been so obsessed by his need of her for weeks, that surely he must have made that fact obvious to her. She could not have failed to understand. She had rejected him because she did not want him, did not love him, not because she misunderstood. Surely.

Had he told her that he loved her? Lord Rutherford cast his mind back over his confused memories of their interview. No, he had not used that exact word. He could be almost sure of that. It was not a word he was accustomed to using. He would be self-conscious using it. He would certainly remember if he had told her that he loved her.

What had he said, then? He must have said something that would have conveyed the same message to her. He recalled admitting to her that he had made a mess of the last proposal. That was when he had planned to tell her that at that time he had still been largely unaware himself of the fact that his whole happiness depended upon her accepting his hand. That was when he was to have told her how much he had come to esteem her, how much he longed to get to know her fully. That was when he might have told her he loved her if he could have summoned the courage to use that exact word.

But he had not said any of those things. She had stopped him. She had told him they would not suit. She had told him that there was nothing in him that she could esteem. He could not recall her exact words, but that was what she had meant. He had felt almost blinded with hurt. To be told by anyone that one is worthless is painful. To be told that by someone one loves is almost unbearable.

What had he done? How had he reacted? Had he become angry immediately? He knew he had become angry. He had even threatened to strike her. But no, he had not lost his temper right away. He might as well have, though. He had turned high-handed, pointing out to her with bull-headed arrogance that she had no choice but to marry him. If anything could be more calculated to make Jess Moore quite immovably determined never to marry him, it was just such an argument. And he had used it to the full!

What a fool. What an utter fool! Lord Rutherford took a long and uncomfortable look at himself through the eyes of Jessica and shuddered. Had he ever once in their whole acquaintance asked her what she wanted? As a governess she must wish for the unexpected delight of a night spent in his bed. As a dismissed employee she must receive with gratitude his flattering offer of employment as his mistress. As a young guest of questionable social status in the home of his grandmother she must accept with alacrity his condescending offer of marriage. As the compromised young granddaughter of a marquess she must rush with relief to the haven of his arms away from the jaws of scandal.

Oh, yes, he had never done anything to Jess against her wishes. He had said something like that to her a few minutes before, had he not? So self-righteous! He could even say with some truth that he had frequently acted with her own interests in mind. But had he ever thought of asking her-and waiting to listen to her response- what she wanted of life? Must he always be telling and assuming? It was the habit of a lifetime to behave as the lord and master, he supposed.

And now he had lost his final chance with Jess. There could be no more. She had made it very clear to him on two occasions that she wanted none of him, and this time he must respect her wishes. It was the only way he could prove his love for her. It was still true that according to all the rules of society she must marry him, and without delay too. But really, what did society's rules amount to in this case? Who would expose Jess's terrible indiscretion to the ton? Grandmama? The Marquess of Heddingly? No one else knew.

The Barries when they arrived during the spring could create some nasty gossip, he supposed. But it would not matter. Jess would not care. He really believed that she would not care. Or if she did, she would still consider the gossip preferable to marriage to him.

The Earl of Rutherford winced.

He must go away. He must talk to her grandfather, explain that they were not to marry and that no pressure must be put on Jess to change her mind. And then he must leave. She must be free to do with her life what she decided to do, with the help of her grandfather. He must stay away from her.

Perhaps in a year's time, or two… But Lord Rutherford turned decisively toward the door of the library. No, not even then. He had always lamented the fact that he had been unable to travel abroad when he was a young man. He would go now. During the spring.

And he would stay away for two or three years. Long enough certainly for them both to forget. He would stay away and keep temptation at arm's length.

He would leave the following day, Rutherford decided as he left the library. He would have liked to saddle a horse and gallop back to London at that very moment. He could be back long before dark if he did so. But he could not leave the day after Christmas. The whole family would be upset. Everyone would know that something must have happened. And some might begin guessing. He did not want that to happen. He did not want anything to cause possible embarrassment to Jess.


"Jessica, my dear girl, do come along to my sitting room with me," the Dowager Duchess of Middleburgh said, laying a hand on Jessica's arm after luncheon. "The trouble with the members of this family is that they forget I am an old woman and unable to stand the noise and constant motion of their merrymaking. What I need is an hour of peace and quiet with someone sensible to converse with."

It seemed reasonable to Jessica. She was in the habit of thinking of the dowager as indefatigable. But then, of course, the elderly lady usually lived a fairly quiet life in the house on Berkeley Square. Jessica did not have the heart to say no. She had spent so much time with her grandfather in the last few days that she had almost neglected the lady who had been so kind to her since her arrival in town.

But truth to tell, she did not feel like being sociable to anyone. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to get away altogether. She could not remember ever feeling so miserable.

"Of course, your grace," she said. "I shall run to my room for my embroidery."

"Yes, do that, dear," the dowager said.

But Jessica was not to get much needlework done.

She had barely drawn her needle through her work when her companion began to speak.

"Now what is troubling you, my dear?" she asked. "Is it Charles again? I would guess it must be, judging from the look on his face and the look on yours at luncheon."

Jessica darted her a troubled look. "I have refused him again," she said.

"Oh dear," the dowager said. "I was afraid this would happen. Patience was never the dear boy's greatest virtue. I suppose he came thundering back with Heddingly, full of the conviction that as the granddaughter of a marquess you must marry him. What the dear boy would not have realized, of course, is that you have known of the connection all your life. It is a new idea only to him."

"Grandpapa shares the idea," Jessica said. "He gave Lord Rutherford his blessing."

"Yes." the dowager sighed. "He would. I remember wondering when Mirabel accepted his offer all those years ago just how she would manage such a very prickly character. She seemed to do quite well. But tell me, my dear, did you have to refuse?"

"Yes." Jessica threaded her needle through her embroidery and set it aside. She stopped even pretending to work at it. "Yes, I had to, your grace. I am sorry."

"You do not have to be sorry for me," her companion said. "After all, Jessica, you are the one who would have to live with the dear boy for the rest of his life. Forgive me for prying, but are you quite sure that you could not do it? It has always seemed to me that you have something of a tendre for Charles."

Jessica bit her lip. "I love him," she said so low that the dowager leaned forward somewhat in her chair. "But I could not live with him, no."

"His high-handed tactics have wounded your pride?" the old lady said.

"It is not just that," Jessica said. "I think if I did not love him I might be able to do it, ma'am. But how can I marry a man who offers for me only because it is the proper thing to do? I should feel all my life that I was a millstone around his neck."

"Gracious!" the dowager said. "The boy has never told you that that is his only reason, has he? What nonsense! He has been hankering after you ever since he first set eyes on you, m'dear."

"I know," Jessica said miserably. "Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had allowed him his will when I first knew him-pardon me, your grace. Then none of all this would have happened. He would have been satisfied. And perhaps I would have been too."

"What a very confused young lady you are, to be sure," the dowager said briskly. "I am not at all certain you understand the situation, my dear. But be that as it may, you have refused Charles again. I suppose he ripped up at you and said all sorts of rash things."

"It was a nasty interview," Jessica admitted. "Oh, ma'am, please, please help me. I must go away from here. I cannot stay, a guest of his family. I cannot face him every time I go beyond my room. Please help me."

"Poor dear." Her companion crossed the room and patted her on the shoulder. "You must remember that you are here on account of me and not on account of Charles at all. No one will think you are out of place here merely because you have refused him. But if you feel you must go, then of course you must. The marquess must take you back to London. Will he stay at Berkeley Square, do you think? Or will he insist on staying at a hotel?"

"No," Jessica said, shaking her head. "Grandpapa must not know I am leaving. Oh, please. He gave me a thundering scold when I went back to his room this morning and told me that I must reconsider. He will not even listen to any other idea. I cannot talk to him. I

know what he is like when he once gets an idea into his head. The same thing happened two years ago. Please, I cannot face Grandpapa again."

"Well," the dowager said, scratching her head and returning to her seat, "what are we to do with you, child? I shall have to take you back to London myself tomorrow. We shall resume our quiet life, Jessica, until the marquess comes to his senses. Or failing that, we will start making plans for the Season. I shall find you so many eligible suitors, m'dear, that your only trouble will be to choose among them."

"No," Jessica said. "You are most kind, ma'am, and I cannot begin to thank you for all you have done for me. But I cannot continue to be beholden to you. Do you not see? I must return to my old way of life if only I can. Can you help me, ma'am? Will you? Lord Rutherford was convinced when he sent me to you that you could and would. Please, can you find me a situation, and soon? I will be happy when my life settles to normal again. And I will no longer be a burden to you."