Nell's breath caught in her throat. "Are you really?" she asked shyly.

"Completely besotted," he murmured against her mouth. "Utterly and completely captivated by you." He kissed her. "I will be in love with you until the day I die-and beyond." He kissed her again. "Never doubt it, Nell, never."

That something momentous had happened overnight was obvious to the entire household. While there was no overt change between Nell and Julian, there was a difference, something in the air around them, a lightness of spirit, a quiet joy that accompanied them and filled the house like the perfume of lilacs on a spring day.

Marcus commented on it that evening. The ladies were in the drawing room and he and Julian were once again enjoying a glass of port before joining them.

Grinning across at his cousin, he said, "The smell of April and May has been overpowering today. I take it that all is well with you and your lady?"

Julian smiled at him, a soft inward smile that Marcus had never seen before. "You could say that." He glanced at Marcus. "She loves me," he said simply. "As I love her."

"And that, my friend, definitely calls for a toast." Raising his glass, Marcus said, "To your happiness."

The gray, rainy weather continued nearly unabated for the entire month of March. There were never more than two days in a row that it did not rain. The sun did manage to show its great golden face a few days but they were few and far between.

Locked inside as they were and unable to do much but speculate about the Shadow Man and watch the rain, Marcus seriously considered returning to his own home. "I might as well," he said to Julian one night. "I can do nothing here."

"You would leave me to the mercies of a household of women?" Julian demanded.

"Who adore you and have given you the mistaken impression that the world revolves around you!"

"Precisely why you should stay-think how insufferable I shall become without you to remind me that I am only a mere human."

Marcus had laughed and there was no more talk of his leaving.

As April, with her promise of spring, rolled around everyone became hopeful that winter was over. Eventually the skies did clear and with exception of the occasional small shower, the days that followed were filled with bright sunshine. At the end of the second week of April, when it did indeed seem that winter had departed for good, like birds released from gilded cages, the inhabitants scattered in all directions. Lady Diana and Elizabeth immediately set out for the Dower House and Julian and Marcus decided that they would eliminate the old monastery from their list of prospects. Feeling there was no harm in it, Julian invited Nell to accompany them. An invitation she promptly accepted, giving him no time to have second thoughts. The day was fine, and though an exploration of the remains of the monastery revealed no dungeons, it proved enjoyable.

Returning to the house, Nell discovered that Mrs. Weston had sent over an invitation to dine at Stonegate the following week. While things were better between Julian and the Westons, Tynedale's continued presence as their guest created problems.

Going in search of Julian, she found him in his library reading a note, the contents of which had brought a frown to his face. Seeing Nell, his expression instantly cleared, a warm light leaping to his eyes.

Waving the invitation at him, she said, "Mrs. Weston is having a party and she has invited us. The whole neighborhood is invited it seems and I hate to decline, but if Tynedale is there..."

"And he is," Julian replied, pointing to his own note. "Charles wrote me, warning me of that fact."

"Now why would he do that? Do you think that Charles knows what part Tynedale played in our marriage?"

"No, it is because of Tynedale's part in Daniel's death that he warns me-he knows how I feel about him."

"Doesn't he hold him in abhorrence also?" Nell asked, curiosity in her face. "Wasn't he fond of Daniel?"

"I have no doubt about Charles's feeling for Daniel. He told me himself that he loved Daniel, and that he also blames himself for what happened," Julian said. "And I asked Charles to explain why he tolerates Tynedale but he wouldn't say." He frowned. "One thing I do know: Charles has his own reasons for befriending Tynedale, but what they are, I cannot even guess."

Nell made a face. "So what shall I do about the invitation?"

Julian came from around his desk and pulled her into his arms. Dropping soft kisses over her face, he murmured, "Do not fret over it. There will be other parties, ones without Tynedale to mar our enjoyment."

Nell leaned her head against his shoulder. "What would you say if I accepted the invitation?"

Surprised, he looked down into her face. "Why?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "To show Tynedale that he has no power over us." She kissed his chin. "In fact we owe the wretched man a debt of gratitude-without his wicked actions, we might never have met, or married...or fallen in love."

"Or fallen in love," Julian repeated huskily, his gaze warm on her face. "Do you know, I think we shall attend that party." He kissed her. "And Tynedale be damned!"

Chapter 19.

The weather continued mild and sunny and the night of Mrs. Weston's party was a delightful spring evening. With great anticipation the ladies of Wyndham Manor had looked forward to the night and especially to mingling with friends and acquaintances. New gowns had been procured from a pair of local seamstresses in Exmouth and as the carriage pulled away from the manor, each lady knew that she looked her best.

Nell, wearing a confection of periwinkle and lace, had never appeared lovelier. Her sea green eyes sparkled and she fairly glowed, the soft color of the gown intensifying the natural beauty of her skin. A white silk cape cloaked her shoulders, white gloves were on her hands, and with her tawny hair piled high on her head and wearing a necklace of pearls and diamonds that matched the gleaming jewels at her ears, she looked every inch a countess. The rounded curve of her belly was not so pronounced as to detract from the elegant picture she made. In fact, Julian thought the signs of her advancing pregnancy only added to her beauty-but then, he admitted wryly, he was somewhat prejudiced when it came to his wife.

Mrs. Weston had invited nearly the entire neighborhood. Squire, his wife and eldest son, Lord Beckworth and Dr. Coleman were in attendance as were several other notables in the area including the magistrate and his wife, and one of the largest landowners in the area, Mr. Blakesley, along with his wife, his eldest son and only daughter. Mrs. Chadbourne had a niece visiting who was around Elizabeth's age and, coupled with the vicar's wife, his widowed youngest sister and his two eldest daughters, the numbers rounded out nicely.

Stonegate was aglow, every sconce, candelabrum and chandelier glittering brightly from the dancing flames of hundreds of candles. The party had turned into a small ball; there was music from hired musicians and dancing in the ballroom at the side of the house. Crystal punch bowls and trays laden with dainty finger food rested on long tables adorned with white linen and orchids and lilies grown in the estate's greenhouses; servants in crisp livery moved silently and swiftly through the guests, offering even more variety of food and drink.

When it became too warm in the ballroom, French doors thrown wide beckoned the guests to wander outside; the garden paths were strewn with gaily colored paper lanterns that cast a soft glow over the area. After several dances, Julian escorted Nell for a brief walk through the gardens.

"Tynedale," Julian said as soon as they were out of earshot of anyone else, "seems to be on his best behavior-or at least he's keeping his distance from us. Perhaps we will get through this night without scandal...or bloodshed."

Nell shot him an anxious glance. "You don't think that he would be foolish enough to-"

Julian shrugged. "So far he seems to be behaving just as he ought. He has kept discreetly in the background and has made no move to interject himself into any group of which I am a part." He looked down at her. "More importantly, he has not been foolish enough or brazen enough to solicit your hand for a dance."

"Indeed not!" Nell exclaimed. "Once he came toward me and I thought he might dare, but then he seemed to think better of it and asked the vicar's sister to dance instead."

He ran a caressing finger down the side of her cheek. "A good thing, too-I would hate to call him out." He stole a brief kiss. "Tynedale aside," he said, "are you enjoying yourself?"

She smiled at him. "Most assuredly. Charles is a wonderful dancer and full of the most amazing tales. Did you really put a dead fish on the collection plate when you were nine?"

Julian laughed. "Guilty. Lord, I'd forgotten about that. Leave it to Charles to bring it up."

"It is a good thing that the troubles between you have been resolved, is it not?"

Julian rubbed his chin. "I don't know that they've been resolved, but we are certainly on a better footing than we have been in years-and that, my sweet, is indeed a good thing."

Eventually the guests were escorted into the dining room and a lavish meal was served. Everyone was in high spirits and laughter filled the room. At the end of the meal, Mrs. Weston arose from the table and regally led the ladies into the front salon, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy their liquor.

Nell was tired. Despite her enjoyment, the party was not without anxiety. Avoiding Tynedale without appearing to and keeping an eye out that he never edged too close to where Julian stood took their toll. She had no doubt that she could depress his pretensions should he dare to approach her, but Julian's reaction to his close proximity worried her. She was enjoying the party, but not as she would have if Tynedale had not been present. Secure at last in Julian's love she no longer worried about the possible scandal that Tynedale could cause by alluding to the real circumstances surrounding their marriage, but he was still a snake, albeit one with most of his poison spent. As she and Julian had discussed, without exposing himself as a bounder beyond the pale, Tynedale could not say much, although if he pretended that the kidnapping was really an elopement, it might prove awkward.

She smiled. She didn't even worry about that anymore-together she and Julian could face down any gossip that could arise. Yet Tynedale still represented a possible threat to her future happiness and as the ladies left the dining room, she was apprehensive that he might goad Julian into unwise action. Knowing that Tynedale and Julian were in the dining room together, even amongst several other level-headed gentlemen, made her uneasy. That drink would be flowing freely added to her unease-gentlemen in their cups were known to act foolishly...

Nell had reason to be uneasy. Tynedale had covered his true emotions all evening, hiding the resentment, hatred and jealousy that raged in his breast behind exquisite manners and a polite smile. Surreptitiously, he'd noted the interplay between Julian and Nell, the tender expression in Julian's eyes when they rested on his wife's lovely features, the glow on Nell's face when Julian led her out to dance and the air of sweet intimacy that existed between them. Only a fool wouldn't have recognized the fact that they were deeply in love. And Tynedale was no fool.

The sight of Nell's expanding pregnancy added to his fury, knowing that except for a trick of fate, it could be his child growing there, his heir, not Wyndham's. From under lowered lids, he'd glared at Wyndham, cursing him for not only being wealthy beyond compare, but for stealing the heiress that he'd chosen for himself. Nell's fortune and child should have been his! Wyndham had stolen it all from him. Cheated him. Brought him to the brink of ruin-his estates were so encumbered that he doubted he'd ever tow them from the River Tick-and just as devastating: Wyndham could demand payment of all those vowels whenever the whim suited him.

Bitterly Tynedale admitted that if he'd not forced an invitation from Raoul to visit, he'd have been at a standstill. The situation was so bad, he dared not even show his face at his own estate-the bloodsuckers were probably even now clamoring at the gates, dunning him to the very steps of his ancestral abode. Marriage to Nell would have changed all that and when he considered the difference that marriage would have made, his malice and hatred of Wyndham grew. Damn Wyndham. Damn him!

After the ladies left the dining room, Tynedale continued to brood. His predicament was all Wyndham's fault and he dwelt again on Wyndham's crimes against him: Wyndham had stolen a fortune from him. Wyndham had married the woman who should have been his bride. And it was Wyndham who had scarred him for life. Unconsciously he fingered that puckered red mark.

Julian saw Tynedale touch the scar and a cool smile lifted the corners of his mouth. At least I did that much for Daniel, he thought as he sipped his port, regretting that he could not have done more. In different circumstances he might have been willing to let bygones be bygones. Tynedale had brought Nell into his life and, despite the circumstances of it, for that Julian could have forgiven him much, but not for the ruination and death of an innocent youth. Julian's jaw clenched.

"Let it be," Marcus said quietly, interrupting and guessing his thoughts. "Tynedale's fate shall be none of your making now."

"Though it galls me to admit it, you are probably right," Julian said. He glanced again at the scar. "At least his face is not so pretty anymore."

"Yes, I agree," drawled Charles from behind Julian, "but it is a pity you didn't finish the job. He wants killing."

Charles had been roaming around the room, being the perfect host as he stopped to chat with first this gentleman and then that. His circuit had eventually brought him to the area where Julian and Marcus were sitting with their chairs pushed away from the table.

"Now why do you feel that way?" Julian asked with a raised brow, as Charles came to stand beside him.

His eyes on Tynedale, Charles took a sip of the brandy he was drinking. "Daniel is not the only young fool to come under Tynedale's spell."

Julian's breath caught and he looked down the long table where Raoul sat in the group around Tynedale. "Are you saying that Raoul has fallen into his clutches?"

Charles shrugged. "There has to be some explanation for his sudden fondness for the man. Raoul is not the gambler that I am, and I know that his mother has warned him that she will not tolerate massive losses at the gaming table." He smiled thinly. "If I had to guess the reason for my brother's present predilection for him, I'd say it's because he owes Tynedale money." Charles looked across the room where Raoul was laughing at something that Chadbourne had said. "I suspect that Raoul is postponing the evil moment that he has to go to my dear stepmother for the money to cover this latest batch of gaming debts. In the meantime, he allows Tynedale to batten down on him."

"Is that why you wanted the vowels? To bargain with him?"

"It had crossed my mind."

"Well, why the devil didn't you say so?" Julian demanded. "You know that under those circumstances I would have gladly given them to you."

Charles looked at him, an odd smile curving his hard mouth. "Perhaps, I just wanted you to trust me to do the right thing."

"Oh, good gad!" burst out Marcus. "Of all the maudlin..." He glared at Charles. "You always were too arrogant and puffed up with yourself for comfort."

"And you were always too bloody smug of your own worth," Charles said, smiling sweetly at Marcus.

Julian sighed. How often as children had they scrabbled thus? "Gentlemen," he said softly, "could we please leave these infantile insults behind us?"

Marcus and Charles stared at each other, neither giving an inch until Marcus made a face and laughed. "I will...if he will."

Charles grinned and bowed. "You have my word."

"So what," Julian asked, "are we going to do about Tynedale?"

His eyes once again on Tynedale, Charles said, "Kill him."

"I'd be happy to," Julian murmured, his gaze also on Tynedale, "but short of murder, I see no way of that happening."

"I suppose I could challenge him to a duel," Marcus offered, looking in Tynedale's direction.

Tynedale must have felt their collective gazes, because he glanced in their direction, his practiced smile freezing when he realized that all three men were staring at him. He recovered himself almost immediately and turned away, laughing apparently at some quip offered by Pierce Chadbourne. Made uneasy by the knowledge that the other three men were watching him, he managed to move his chair so that he was obscured from their view by a hideous sterling silver epergne that Mrs. Weston insisted gave the table elegance.

Why were they staring at him? he wondered. That they held no fondness for him, he didn't doubt. That they would shed no tears if misfortune was to befall him, he also knew. So what were they thinking? Were they planning some attack against him? He gulped down a glass of wine, stoking his courage, considering the possibilities. He had no argument with Sherbrook or Weston, either one, but by God! He would welcome the chance to meet Wyndham again...and kill him.

The possibilities blinded him. If Wyndham was to die...And Nell was to miscarry or the child was to be born dead, which would be easy enough to arrange...Weston would step into his cousin's boots. Raoul would then be only one person away from inheriting the title and the enormous fortune that went with it. Tynedale smiled. He would be very happy to help Raoul waste it away. Best of all, Nell would be a widow, with a fortune of her own. His first attempt to coerce her into marriage had failed, but he was wiser now and he'd plan better. A crafty gleam entered his eyes. Why not? Why the bloody hell not? Time was against him; the sooner Wyndham joined the ranks of the dead, the sooner the grieving Countess Wyndham could be rid of the brat she carried and become Lady Tynedale-and gossip be damned!

Tynedale stood up. Everything was falling into place. He even had his dueling pistols with him...He smiled again. They were very special, those pistols-one pulled ever so slightly to the right, the other to the left, but only he knew which one did what and could compensate for it, while poor Wyndham...He almost laughed aloud, picturing the expression on Wyndham's face when his bullet found its mark and Wyndham's did not. A febrile glitter in his blue eyes, he strolled over to where Julian, Marcus and Charles were still gathered.

Approaching them, he bowed. "A most enjoyable event. Your mother is to be congratulated on her abilities as hostess," he said to Charles, coming to stand beside him. Smiling at Julian, he said, "I do not believe that I have ever congratulated you on your recent marriage. What is it...six months now? Oh, and an heir on the way, too-congratulations." He sipped his wine, his eyes never leaving Julian's rigid features. "She is a lovely little thing-you are a lucky man," he added genially. "Very lucky, indeed...So easily could she have slipped from your fingers and, alas, become the bride of another man."

Julian's nostrils flared and Marcus grabbed his arm. Staring at Tynedale, despising him, Julian said flatly, "If you value your life, I would suggest that you take your loathsome self far away from me."

Tynedale's eyes widened girlishly. "Oh, my, are you insulting me?" It was not his plan to be the challenger. He needed to be the one challenged-then the choice of weapons would be his.

"Can you be insulted?" mocked Julian.

They were not speaking in low tones and several gentlemen alert to brewing trouble turned to stare at them.

"Oh, yes, I'm quite certain of it...if I allow myself to be," Tynedale said, taking another sip of his wine. "But, you see, I have great command of my temper and do not allow myself to be goaded by the trite comments uttered by commoners."

Charles's face turned to marble and Marcus started to his feet, only to be halted by Julian's apparently careless but bone-crushing hold of his arm.

"You are to be commended," Julian drawled, his long body deceptively relaxed. "I, too, am somewhat impervious to insults, especially when they are uttered by offal like yourself."

Everyone was watching and listening to them by now and there was a collective gasp at Julian's words.

The squire rushed forward, followed closely on his heels by the vicar and Lord Beckworth. "Oh, I say now," said the squire uneasily. "None of that, this has gone on too long."

Tynedale tittered but his eyes burned with hatred. "Dear me. Are you trying to force a duel upon me?" He glanced around the room. "I am afraid that poor Wyndham isn't content with having already shed my blood. It would appear that he is lusting for more."

"You are wrong," Julian murmured, "I do not want your blood, you licentious knave, I want you dead so that you can no longer swindle and cheat green boys out of their fortunes."

Tynedale went white with fury, but he held on to his temper. "Goodness! I had so hoped that you had gotten over your displeasure with your ward's foolish acts, but it appears that I am wrong. You hold a grudge, my lord-how unsporting of you."

With a flick of his wrist Julian tossed the contents of his glass into Tynedale's face. "And you, my Lord Blackguard," he said quietly, "are a cur and a coward, nothing short of vermin that should be stamped out."

Enraged, Tynedale lost sight of his goal. "You smug bastard," he snarled, "name your seconds!"

"Gladly," Julian said. His eyes never leaving Tynedale's livid features, he said, "Marcus? Charles?"

Not waiting for their assent, Julian drawled, "I believe that weapons are my choice-swords...and the time and place, here and now."

"Oh, no, no, we can't have that!" exclaimed the squire, appalled at this turn of events. "Tynedale has not even named his seconds, "he added desperately.

"Mr. Raoul Weston and Mr. Pierce Chadbourne will act for me," Tynedale snapped. Both Raoul and Pierce looked dismayed, but they could hardly refuse, and both nodded and came to stand beside their man. "And I am ready," Tynedale said, "whenever Lord Wyndham is ready."

"Upon my soul! This is highly irregular," protested Lord Beckworth. "You must allow your seconds to attempt a peaceable outcome."