"I suspect it terrifies her as well. Does she know how you feel?"

"No, G.o.d, no. What if she rebuffs me? I don't know how I will live with it."

"You're a coward."

Chuckling low, he squeezed her hand. How many times had Catherine pointed out that same flaw in him? "When it comes to the heart, yes."

"She won't wait forever, Luke."

"I know, but I fear I'm unworthy of her."

"If I were a petty woman, I could take insult at that. You considered yourself worthy enough for me."

He grinned. "I didn't mean for that to sound as it did. Do you know I struggled for a year before asking for your hand?"

"Don't wait that long to ask for hers. If you truly want her, don't wait another day."

Catherine strolled through the front door, a mixture of feelings d.o.g.g.i.ng her steps. She was excited about traveling to America, sad about leaving England. But she had purchased her ticket that morning. She'd leave from Liverpool and arrive in New York in a matter of weeks. Once there she'd find lodging. It seemed a lot of Englishmen had begun to immigrate to America. She wouldn't be alone and they could help each other along.

She'd removed her hat and gloves and set her purse-with her precious ticket inside, along with the doc.u.ments Frannie had prepared for her-on the table in the entry hallway.

"Ah, there you are," Sterling said, striding from the hall. "You've a visitor. He's waiting for you in the library."

"Who is it?"

"Claybourne."

Catherine's heart kicked against her ribs. "What's he doing here?"

"Apparently he wants to see you. He's been here for two hours waiting. What were you doing out and about?"

"I don't owe you an accounting of my actions." She walked into the hallway, and Sterling fell into step behind her. She stopped and faced him. "Nor do I need you to accompany me when I speak to Claybourne."

"A woman does not go into a room with a gentleman by herself."

"Sterling, while you were enjoying your travels, I spent a good deal of time alone with Claybourne. I don't need you now to oversee our meeting. I a.s.sure you there is no cause for worry. He'll be a perfect gentleman."

He glanced toward the doorway where the footman waited, then looked back at her. "Catherine, I know I've not been the best of brothers, but I'm determined now to take my responsibilities more seriously."

If he took them any more seriously, she'd find herself locked in a tower.

"There's no need. I'm quite capable of seeing after myself. So, please, don't disturb us."

She left him standing there and swept in through the doorway as the footman opened it. She was reminded of that first night in Claybourne's library, only now he stood by the window and the room was filled with the warmth of sunshine rather than the coolness of midnight shadows.

"My Lord Claybourne, it was so nice of you to come to call."

"So formal, Catherine, after all we've shared?"

There was nothing mocking in his tone, rather it was decidedly sensual. Just the thought of all that they'd shared had her body growing warm, and she thought she might be in danger of swooning again. He looked so amazingly wonderful, dressed so formally. Handsome as sin. Her heart was stuttering at his nearness, her hands wanted to reach out for him. She would miss him terribly-but she would always have and cherish the precious memento of their time together that he'd unknowingly given her.

"How is Frannie?" she asked, her words coming out in a rush, her fervent hope that he would leave before she came undone. Even though she'd seen Frannie only that morning, she didn't want to raise his suspicions by not inquiring.

"She's well. I saw her late this morning as a matter of fact."

"Did you ask for her hand in marriage at long last?"

He slowly shook his head. "I apologized to her."

"For what? You didn't tell her what pa.s.sed between us-"

"No."

With the predatory prowl that she'd come to a.s.sociate with him, he crossed over to her. "I apologized because I've done all in my power to convince her to become my wife, would do anything to have her as my wife, and I suddenly realized that I couldn't marry her, that I had to marry you."

Her heart stammered. "Why?" Before he could respond, the truth hit her. "d.a.m.n them! They told you, didn't they? I didn't want this. I didn't-"

"What? Who? What are you talking about?"

"Dr. Graves and Winnie. They've opposed my plans from the beginning. But it's not fair to you, just because I'm with child-"

"What?" Claybourne wrapped his hand around her arm, drew her near, and stood over her with fury undulating off him in waves.

It occurred to Catherine that this might have been how David felt when he confronted Goliath.

"Oh, dear Lord, they didn't tell you."

"You're with child?" he asked, as though what she'd said had finally registered with him. His gaze dropped to her belly. Her condition was not yet evident. Then ever so reverently, he splayed his fingers over her stomach. He lifted his gaze back to hers. "Why did you not tell me? Because of that first night in the library when I told you that I'd not give you respectability if I got you with child?"

"No, no." Reaching up, with tears in her eyes, she cradled his beloved face between her hands, holding his gaze so he'd have no doubt she spoke the truth. "I didn't tell you because I knew you would do right by me, and in so doing, you would sacrifice your own dream. You would marry me and give up Frannie, the woman you love more than life itself. And I love you far too much-"

She suddenly found herself crushed against him, his mouth devouring hers, his hand plowing into her hair, scattering pins, the heavy strands tumbling around her.

He tore his mouth from hers. "I love you. I adore Frannie, but I love you desperately, Catherine. You're courageous, bold, and you challenge me at every turn. You're willing to risk everything for those you care about. Your willingness to sacrifice knows no bounds. I am so unworthy, but if you'll marry me, I'll see that you never regret it."

His heartfelt declaration had tears running along her cheeks. "You are the most worthy man I know. You've got a bit of the devil in you, and a bit of a saint, but you're everything I could ever wish for in a man, in a husband. The answer is yes. Gladly."

He was kissing her again, and she felt the fire building between them. She wondered if she could sneak him up to her bedchamber so she could give him a proper answer.

The door suddenly burst open. Catherine simply looked back over her shoulder to see Sterling standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression formidable. "Catherine, you a.s.sured me the blackguard wouldn't take advantage. I a.s.sure you, sir, a wedding is in order here."

Catherine looked at Claybourne. He smiled down on her.

"As soon as it can be arranged," he promised.

24.

It was late, long past midnight, when Luke walked the familiar back hallway of Dodger's. He and his friends had gambled there, drunk there, commiserated there. In a way, it was Feagan's dwelling-simply fancier, cleaner, better smelling.

Luke stopped at the open doorway that led into Jack's sanctuary, not surprised to find Jack sitting behind his desk going over his books-not checking Frannie's figures so much as relishing all he'd gained. More than any of them, Jack loved his coins.

Luke cleared his throat. Jack glanced up, and for a heartbeat, Luke thought he saw joy in Jack's eyes before he shuttered his emotions.

"You haven't stopped by in a while," Jack said, leaning back insolently in his chair.

"I had no desire to be here."

"I can hardly blame you for that, I suppose. What brings you here tonight?"

"I've asked Lady Catherine Mabry to become my wife. She's consented to granting me the honor of being her husband."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, before he once again gained control of his thoughts. It wasn't like him to reveal so much, and now he had-twice.

"I thought you loved Frannie."

"I do. But I love Catherine more deeply." And differently. He'd come to realize what he felt for Frannie was the love of a boy for a girl and what he felt for Catherine was the love of a man for a woman. When he'd thought of taking Frannie to bed, he'd never felt any fire, probably because he'd never truly contemplated anything beyond sleeping together, spooned around each other as they'd slept as children. But where Catherine was concerned, he could hardly go fifteen minutes without thinking of falling into bed with her-and sleeping was seldom on his mind.

But these were realizations that he could no longer discuss with Jack. There was now a part of his heart and his soul that he might never again be able to share with his long-time friend.

"d.a.m.n," Jack muttered.

Luke arched a brow. "That seems an odd reaction-even from you."

"I have to build Bill a hospital. We wagered"-he shook his head-"it doesn't matter. Congratulations. Shall we drink to it?" He stood up, reached for the bottle- "No."

Jack looked back at him.

"I'm not drinking much these days."

"I am." Jack poured whiskey into the gla.s.s, then held it aloft. "To your health and happiness as well as Catherine's."

He downed the contents in one gulp.

Luke remembered that it was Jack who had given him his first taste of whiskey, rum, and gin. It was Jack who had taught him how to cheat at cards, how to pick pockets without getting caught. Jack who had a.s.sured him when he was a small, frightened boy cowering in the alley that everything was going to be all right, that Jack wouldn't let anyone hurt him. In spite of his flaws, of which there were many, Jack had never abandoned Luke. Never.

"I've come to ask you to stand with me," Luke said quietly, "when Catherine and I marry in two weeks."

Jack scoffed. "You're a lord. You should ask Chesney or Milner."

"I'm not friends with Chesney or Milner. I wouldn't lay down my life for them, nor would they for me."

Jack averted his gaze, his voice rough with emotion when he finally spoke. "To stand with you will be the greatest honor of my life."

"You've always stood with me, Jack."

Jack looked back at him, nodded brusquely. "We were quite the pair, weren't we?"

"Too arrogant at times, I think."

"That's because we were so very good and so very clever." He chuckled low. "Well, except for the time when we got caught, of course."

Luke stepped into the room. "I believe I will have that drink."

Jack poured them each a gla.s.s. When Luke held his, he tapped it against Jack's. "To Feagan, who taught us how to survive the streets."

"And to your grandfather," Jack said somberly, "for trying to turn us all into gentlemen, and failing miserably with some of us, I'm afraid."

Luke felt the familiar, painful knot in his chest, near his heart, as he thought of the old gent. He lifted his gla.s.s higher in salute. "To my grandfather."

It rained on the day they wed. But Catherine didn't care. She had enough happiness and joy inside her that if it rained for the remainder of their lives, they would always know sunshine. Because she and Sterling were still in mourning over the loss of their father, and Winnie was in mourning over the death of Avendale and etiquette forbade that widows attend weddings, Catherine insisted that the ceremony be small and intimate, held in a chapel.

Claybourne wouldn't allow her to be denied what she requested. She'd always relished her independence, and she drew comfort from knowing that he would never attempt to stifle it. On the contrary, she suspected that he relished it as well.

In spite of the weather, a few among the n.o.bility attended-more out of curiosity than anything. Marcus Langdon was in attendance, his mother notably absent. Frannie stood with Catherine since Winnie couldn't put aside her mourning. Jack stood with Luke. She was glad they'd reconciled, even if Luke had done so with some misgivings.

But what surprised Catherine most was when the bishop asked of Luke, "Do you Lucian Oliver Langdon, the fifth Earl of Claybourne..."

Oliver.

Holding his gaze as he gave her his vows, she wondered how much of his youth was contained in the words of the story that she'd recently read to her father. It seemed improbable, but not impossible. But it was a puzzle for another day.

Today she was basking in the love for her that she saw reflected in his eyes. They were the window to a soul she could see so clearly, a soul that had once been dark and now glowed brightly with the promise of their future. She was astounded by how much she loved him, how much he loved her.

They'd journeyed through h.e.l.l together. She knew no matter what life tossed their way, they would embrace it or overcome it, but they would never be defeated by it.

Later that night, Catherine sat at her vanity, wearing a white cashmere dressing gown, intricately embroidered with pink roses. She brushed her hair, listening intently to the sounds of her husband in the next room preparing for bed. Her husband. She nearly laughed aloud. The one thing she'd never thought to acquire, had never thought she'd want to acquire. The one thing she now knew she could never do without.

She would never take him for granted. She'd always hold him near.

The door leading from his bedchamber into hers clicked open, and he prowled into the room, antic.i.p.ation lighting the silver of his eyes until they sparkled like the Crown Jewels. She rose and faced him. He'd come to her this time, and she felt unparalleled delight at the thought.

He was still walking toward her when he reached out and cradled her face between his large hands, tilting her face up, not stopping his forward momentum until his lips were locked on hers. They'd not been together for weeks, and already her body was melting with desire for him.

He slid his hands along her throat as he drew back. He began freeing the b.u.t.tons of her dressing gown. "I've a good mind to put you over my knee for not telling me you were with child as soon as you realized the truth of your situation."

She peered up at him, saucily. "I was hoping you would."

His joyous laughter echoed through the room, his smile broader than she'd ever seen it, and she could only hope that it would be the first of many.

"I do love you, Catherine Langdon, Countess of Claybourne, with all my heart and what remains of my soul."

He eased her gown off her shoulders until it glided down her body. Lifting her into his arms he carried her to the bed and set her on it. "Roll onto your stomach."