He frowned into his wine. He would have to be careful there. He would marry her, but surely, he would not be fool enough to commit the greatest folly of all and fall in love? With his own wife? Nay.

Chapter 5.

"Papa, are you very sure that I must marry him?" Nell asked quietly.

It was midmorning on Tuesday and the pair of them were in the library where Sir Edward had retreated to read his newspaper and savor the news that it contained. The earl, he noted with approval, had not wasted a moment and had managed to insert the announcement of his impending marriage to Miss Eleanor Anslowe in time for today's edition.

"Eh? What's that, my dear?" Sir Edward asked, the pleased glow that Nell's future was settled apparent in his face.

Nell sighed. She hated disappointing her father, and her brothers, for that matter, and it was clear that they were all cock-a-whoop at the turn of events. Upon their arrival home, Sir Edward had dispatched a servant to find Drew and Harry to tell them to return at once to London. The twins had arrived back in London very late that evening, tired and dirty, but after a bath and a change of clothes, they'd joined their father, brother and sister for an impromptu celebration of Nell's good fortune that had lasted into the wee hours of Monday morning. The Anslowe men had been jovial and ignored Nell's glum countenance. But then, they would be happy as larks, Nell thought, they weren't being handed over to a stranger!

She had not slept well and it had been well past noon on Monday before she left her bedroom. Not even the knowledge that her father had set a burly servant to guard the area beneath her window from any further intruders had calmed the turmoil in her breast. It was not intruders she feared but the future. And if she was truthful, she did not fear the Earl of Wyndham, she just didn't want to marry him.

Nell did not deny that she had found him attractive, overpoweringly so, and there was no pretending that he was not imposing-even, as he had been when she first laid eyes on him, with a night's growth of beard darkening his cheeks and his clothing stained and disheveled. Nor could she ignore the fact that as a prospective husband he met several of the criteria any sensible young lady, and certainly the young lady's family, would demand. He was well born, titled, in fact, and, to make matters worse, it was an old and venerated title. He was respected in the ton. And, he was rich. Very.

All of those things were important to her father and her brothers. Sir Edward was elated that she was making such a grand match, even if it had come about in an unorthodox fashion. She supposed, if she was fair, that she should be grateful that Lord Wyndham had proved to be honorable. And it wasn't, she admitted, that she had found him repulsive. Quite the contrary, if she was honest with herself, remembering the unexpected thrill she had felt when his hard body had pressed against hers and his mouth had hovered so near to hers.

But all that did not mean that she wanted to marry him. She had known better than to immediately tackle the issue with her father, nor had she wanted to bring up the subject when he and her brothers had been half-drunk with relief and gratification at the lucky outcome. They were ecstatic at the notion of their sister becoming the Countess of Wyndham.

Despite taking all of that into account, Nell was not comfortable with the idea of being handed over to the earl in such a hurly-burly fashion. Marriage was for life and it was the rest of her life that they were all so busy arranging. She was grateful to the earl, but there must be another way out of the situation other than marriage. With that in mind she had waited to seek out her father until after Robert had left the house this morning. Having found her father in the library, she wasted not a moment putting forth her question.

When Sir Edward looked blank, she repeated, "Must I marry him?"

"Well, of course you must! Besides the impropriety of what happened and the Humphries arriving at a dashed inconvenient time-it is in the Times!" He stared at her. "What is wrong with you, gel? The Earl of Wyndham! Why every matchmaking mama in England has been after him since his wife died. And to think that my daughter is the one who snaffles him right out from under their very noses."

"In the Times?" she squeaked, her heart dropping down to her toes. Snatching the proffered newspaper out of her father's hand, she read the small notice, any hopes of preventing the marriage fluttering away with every word of black print.

Features pale, she sank down into the oxblood leather chair next to Sir Edward. The newspaper slipped unheeded from her fingers.

"'Tis a grand match, my dear. One that should make you happy," her father said gently. "It is the sort of match I have always hoped that you would make." He paused and sent her a keen look. "Nell, you know that your happiness is paramount to me, it always has been, and if I thought for one instant that Wyndham would make you an indifferent husband, scandal be damned! I would not countenance the match. But he is a fine man-we may not move in as high a circle of the ton, but your brothers and I are aware of his reputation. It is without stain. Friends we share in common with Wyndham have always spoken highly of him and I know of no reason that would make him unacceptable-even if we did not have a scandal to avoid."

Her father meant to help, Nell knew that, but all he did was cut the ground from beneath her feet. "But I don't know him," she muttered. "I don't love him." Accusingly she added, "You and mother loved each other and she wasn't a stranger. It isn't fair that you marry me off to someone I don't know-and don't love."

Sir Edward sighed. "My dear, your mother's and my marriage was arranged almost from the moment of our births. Neither of us had any say in it. She was an only child, as was I. Our parents were dear friends whose lands marched side by side and they yearned for a closer tie between the two families-and there is no denying that they wanted to unite our estates." When Nell would have interrupted, he held up a hand. "Yes, we grew up together, knowing that someday we would wed, but we were not in love with each other at the time of our wedding. We liked and respected each other and the union made our families happy-that was reason enough for us." A faraway expression in his eyes, he murmured, "Love came later, as our relationship deepened. Within months, nay, weeks of our wedding we could not imagine life without the other and we realized that our parents had known what they were about in arranging for us to wed-even if practical matters played a part in it. I have never regretted a day of my marriage to your mother. I miss her still."

Defeated, Nell stared at him, the feeling of being trapped increasing. She could offer no argument to refute his words. And she knew her father well enough to recognize that his mind was made up; she would find no help from him in escaping marriage to Wyndham.

Aware that he had dealt her a blow, Sir Edward reached over and placed a hand over hers. "Nell, it will not be as bad as you fear. Wyndham strikes me as a likeable, reasonable sort, and even if you do not love him, remember that love is not a requirement for marriage among our sort." He touched her cheek and smiled. "You may, you know, surprise yourself by falling in love with him."

Her stormy eyes met his. "But what if he never falls in love with me? What then?"

Sir Edward winced. "I cannot predict the future, my dear. Your marriage will be what you make of it." His eyes met hers. "And you can make it happy...or you can make it miserable. The choice is yours."

Julian had never linked the words love and marriage together before and as he contemplated his nuptials, the word love was not paramount in his mind. He was realistic about his marriage. And looking at it as a purely practical matter, he could see several advantages in marrying Miss Eleanor Anslowe.

In fact, when Lord Talcott arrived that morning demanding to know how in the devil the Times could have made such an outrageous mistake, once he had his friend calmed down, he ticked them off for him.

Quickly ushering his apoplectic friend to the rear of house, Julian had proceeded with care. Ordinarily, he would have laid the entire tale before Talcott. He trusted his friend and there were few, if any, secrets between them. But events were different this time, this time a lady's honor was involved, a lady who would become his wife, and it seemed to him that the fewer people who knew the truth the better. Adrian Talcott, who knew him intimately, might guess that a rig was being run, but Julian had no doubt that his friend would follow his lead-even if puzzled and eaten alive with curiosity. He quelled a flicker of guilt at not divulging the truth and, sticking to the bare bones of the story he had put forth already, it still took Julian several minutes to make Talcott understand that there had been no mistake: the Times had it correct. He was going to marry Eleanor Anslowe. On Wednesday next. Talcott was, of course, invited to the wedding.

"B-B-But you don't even know the chit! At least," Talcott added after a moment's hesitation, "I don't think you do. And marriage! You have sworn to me often enough in your cups, that marriage was a trap that would not catch you again."

His long legs crossed at the ankles, Julian slouched in a dark green mohair chair next to Talcott's, his long fingers steepled beneath his chin. His gaze was on the small fire crackling on the gray marble hearth in front of them and for a moment Talcott thought that he had not heard him. But a second later Julian murmured, "I know. And I will admit that another marriage was something that I had not thought to undertake-even if it meant that my bloody cousin Charles would inherit the title and all that goes with it, and which he would promptly gamble away."

Talcott grinned. "Well! I am happy to see that at least your opinion of him has not changed. The way you were going on about the wisdom of this marriage, I next expected you to start singing his praises."

"Hardly. But if you think about it, this marriage may be a very good thing. I do need an heir and a hostess of my own-I have estates that need a woman's hand and I have no inclination to oversee the running of my various households. Diana does well enough, but she is still a young woman, a beautiful one, and she could-in fact it is my most ardent desire-remarry, and then where would I be? Having my own wife would solve that problem before it arises."

When Talcott would have interrupted him, he raised a hand and added, "I know what you are going to say next: if I am set upon marriage, why not select a bride from a more recent crop of eligible damsels? Why choose a female not in the first blush of youth?" He rubbed his chin. "Quite honestly, the thought of shackling myself to any one of the flighty bits of muslin that are currently trotted out at Almack's makes me view with delight the notion of joining a monastery." Julian shook his head. "No. I've considered the situation from all angles and Miss Anslowe is the perfect candidate for me-perhaps the only candidate. Consider it, Adrian! She is young enough to give me a nursery full of offspring and yet old enough to know the ways of the world. She will not bedevil me by demanding that I dance attendance on her-or saddle me with someone else's brat. Her family's name and respectability are without parallel-and don't forget, she is an heiress. The more I consider it, the more convinced I am that marriage with her is wise."

"My ears must deceive me-surely this is not the same man who has been declaring for years that marriage is the worst fate to befall man?"

Julian grinned. "There will be compensations, you know-when she produces an heir, Charles will be blocked from inheriting and, remember, my wife will have to deal with Diana and all of her fits and starts. At least I shall be free of that."

"A poor reason to saddle yourself with a woman who has been considered on the shelf for years." Talcott looked morose. "And don't forget, there are those rumors about her."

Julian sent him a hooded glance. "What rumors?" he asked in a tone that made Talcott uneasy.

"Uh, well, you know that years ago she was engaged to Bethune?" At Julian's nod, he said, "It is common knowledge that she suffered an accident that left her crippled...But the reason Bethune was able to escape the engagement without being branded a blackguard is that there was talk that she was not, um, quite right in the head."

Julian pictured Nell as he had first seen her, dirty and bedraggled. She had not been, he would admit, a reassuring sight, but what he remembered most of that moment was the intelligence gleaming in those wary, sea green eyes. He smiled to himself, finding the memory endearing. But one thing had been clear in an instant: this was no madwoman. Not even, he thought, half-mad.

"You do realize," Julian asked softly, "that you are talking about the woman that I am to marry?"

Talcott swallowed, his precisely arranged cravat feeling as if it was choking him. He recognized the deceptive mildness of Julian's tone. Past experience had taught him that a prudent man treaded carefully when that particular note entered his friend's voice-either that or take the consequences...which were never pleasant.

Talcott cleared his throat. "Now, don't come the ugly with me-I am only repeating what has been said."

"Do not...not if you wish to remain my friend. I would suggest also, that for their own good, you promptly disabuse anyone else of that notion."

"Oh, of course. Absolutely."

Julian smiled at him, that warm, utterly charming smile that always disarmed its object. "I know you will. And I know that you will wish me happy."

"Naturally. Wouldn't do otherwise." Talcott fidgeted in his chair. "Thing is, Julian, it comes as a shock. Bound to be talk."

Julian rose to his feet and, picking up the poker, prodded the fire. "People have been talking and gossiping about me for years-what is one more round?"

Talcott sighed. "I know, but this time it is different. It ain't just that you are getting married, it is to whom you are getting married. And the suddenness of it is certain to cause a flurry amongst the old tabbies."

"And why should I care about that?"

"You might not...but what of your lady?"

Julian paused. He could stand the nonsense, but with an unsettling feeling of protectiveness, he was aware that he did not want the ton sinking their collective claws into Nell. "What do you suggest? I am going to marry her. And it will be on next Wednesday."

Talcott cleared his throat again. "Perhaps, if we were to, uh, put forth some sort of explanation?" He sent Julian a glance, trying to gauge his mood. Feeling his way, he said, "Lady Humphries will, of course, be busy spreading the news about how she found you and the Anslowes at the abandoned toll keeper's cottage." Talcott paused, making certain that he had Julian's full attention-and that the earl was not on the verge of calling him out. The expression on Julian's face was encouraging, so Talcott plunged on, "Knowing Lady Humphries, she will give out the worst reading of the situation. You need a, uh, clarification of the tale to dilute her tale-something that would satisfy, or at least divert, the more determined gossips."

"You have something in mind?" Julian asked with a quirk of his brow.

Settling back in the chair, Talcott considered the matter. Having concluded that, for whatever reasons, Julian was determined to marry Miss Anslowe, he threw himself into the fray. Now what, he wondered, would be a reason for Julian to have kept his courtship-if there had been a courtship, and he seriously doubted it-wrapped in such secrecy? A smile slid across his face as an idea occurred to him. "I suppose," he said, "that the most obvious reason for you to have kept your, er, growing passion for Miss Anslowe a secret is because you did not wish to distress Lady Wyndham by thrusting a stranger into the household."

Julian put away the poker and, amusement gleaming in his eyes, he said, "Yes, that sounds plausible. Diana enjoys being the Countess Wyndham-she will not be happy to claim the title dowager, not at her age."

"Er, yes. So that explains why you kept it a secret-you wanted Lady Diana to become used to the idea."

Julian nodded. "But why," he asked, the gleam in his eyes more pronounced, "did I decide to spring this, uh, growing passion, I believed you called it, on her now?"

Enjoying himself now, Talcott smiled. "Why, my dear fellow, after your unfortunate carriage accident, which left you in such close proximity with the alluring Miss Anslowe, you simply could not contain your passion any longer. You had to speak and the consequences be damned!"

Julian guffawed. "Of course. It will do all the old tabbies good to think of me snarled in the throes of love. They will look upon Miss Anslowe as the avenging goddess who brought me to heel."

"And has she?" Talcott asked slyly.

Thinking of Nell and the emotions she roused in his breast, Julian shook his head. "I cannot tell you-I do not know the answer to that question myself."

How very interesting, Talcott thought to himself. Could it be that Julian's heart had been well and truly snared?

Studying the shine of his boots, Talcott inquired, "Tell me, why the suddenness of your marriage? I mean, aside from your inability to control your growing passion for the lady? Why not wait and marry her in the spring? Why so precipitous?"

Julian thought back to the plans that had been put together so hastily during his ride back to London yesterday with the Anslowes. Lord and Lady Humphries finding them at the toll keeper's cottage had been unfortunate and it had seemed logical to arrange for a swift outcome. Julian had known that his engagement to any young woman would cause talk and speculation-not all of it kind. With Eleanor Anslowe named as his bride-to-be, the old stories about her and Bethune were bound to arise and add to the furor. Simply put: the longer the engagement, the more time he and Miss Anslowe would be at the center of a firestorm of gossip. And, of course, there was Tynedale's part in the whole affair. For a moment, Julian's mouth thinned. The Anslowes were unaware of his connection with Lord Tynedale and he had seen no reason to enlighten them. But Miss Anslowe's abduction by Tynedale had been another reason for a hurried marriage-with the lady safely married to him, not even Tynedale would dare hint of abduction gone wrong.

Julian sighed. It had seemed wise to get it all behind them as quickly as possible-the sooner they wed, the sooner the nine day's wonder surrounding their unexpected engagement would end. And there was a practical reason, too. In another week or two, except for a few stragglers, the majority of the ton would desert London until the spring. By marrying next Wednesday, there would be a respectable contingent to celebrate their nuptials-and spread the word. By the next Season his engagement and marriage to Miss Anslowe would be old gossip and soon forgotten.

Smiling wryly, Julian said, "There is nothing suspicious about the sudden marriage-I wish to spare my lady as much gossip as possible. It is far better that we stand the nonsense all at once, than to have it dragged out over the winter and into next spring."

Talcott could get no more out of him and had to be content. They took their leave of each other, Talcott promising to head immediately to Boodle's to begin lamenting Julian's fate. Julian made plans to call upon his bride-to-be.

Let into Sir Edward's fashionable townhouse by the family butler, Chatham, Julian was whisked into the study, where he found Sir Edward seated behind his desk.

As Julian approached Sir Edward rose from his chair and, a wide smile on his face, shook his hand. "Lord Wyndham. A pleasure. Please, please take a seat. Some refreshment?"

While the most pressing issues had already been decided upon, the business arrangements of the marriage, money, and settlements, had not been finalized. These matters were quickly handled by the two men, Julian agreeing to a generous settlement for his wife-to-be and Sir Edward laying out the extent of her fortune-a fortune that would be under Julian's control once they were wed.

Since Nell had little say in the matter she did not even know that her future bridegroom was in the house until a servant tapped on the door to her rooms and passed on her father's request that she join him and Lord Wyndham in the library.

For an instant she considered sending back a message that she was indisposed. But knowing that there was no escape, she took a swift look in the cheval glass, shook out the folds of her kerseymere gown and pinched roses into her cheeks. A critical glance at the curls that framed her face, the remainder of the tawny mass caught up in a braid at the back of her head, satisfied her that she bore little resemblance to the harridan the earl had first seen. Then, berating herself for caring what Lord Wyndham thought of her, she turned away from the glass and left the room.

Reaching the double doors to the library, she took a breath, stifled the urge to run and pulled open the door. Like a trim frigate with fighting canvass spread, she sailed into the room.

In the act of raising a glass of hock to his lips, Julian froze. Stunned, he stared at the lovely young woman who stalked across the length of the library and came to halt before him.

"My lord," she said, her manner stiff.

Julian made a polite reply, gathering his thoughts. He could hardly believe that this entrancing creature was the same female he had met just twenty-four hours ago. She was taller than he recalled, but the soft curves of the slender form beneath the sage green gown he remembered very well. Her sea green eyes still held the same wary expression and the strawberry-hued mouth was still just as tempting, but gone was the bedraggled urchin he had first spied. In her place stood a fashionable young woman who would have instantly elicited a demand for an introduction from him if their paths had crossed previously. Where in Hades, he thought, had she been hiding all this time?

"Thank you for joining us so promptly, my dear," said Sir Edward, reaching out a hand to bring his daughter to his side.

Nell started, hoping her face did not show the shock she felt at the sight of the gentleman standing next to her father. From their first encounter, she'd had a memory of a tall, raffish fellow, a man with a beard-shadowed face and hard eyes, a man who had made her think of a highwayman or ruffian, and she was having difficulty reconciling that memory with the elegant man before her. He was meticulously groomed, his thick dark hair waving near his temples, the clean cut of his jaw and lips no longer half-concealed beneath black stubble; the dark blue coat and nankeen breeches fit him superbly, the white cravat arranged by an expert hand. The effect was staggering. She was certain that she had met other men as attractive and urbane as the Earl of Wyndham, but at the moment, she could not remember one of them.

Dazedly she let her father pull her beside him, only half-aware of the warmth and comfort of his hand. Tearing her gaze from Lord Wyndham's face, she dropped her eyes to the floor, her thoughts careening.

Having observed the effect they had on each other, Sir Edward bit back a smile. A twinkle in his eyes, he patted Nell's shoulder and said, "I shall leave you two alone for a few minutes...I believe that Lord Wyndham wishes to speak privately with you."

With trepidation Nell watched her father leave the room. She did not like this at all. Not the fact that she was being rushed into marriage with a man she barely knew, nor the fact that she found that same man far too attractive for her own good. Resentfully she shot a look at him from between her gold lashes, her heart leaping when she discovered that he was watching her intently.

Her chin lifted. "What? Why are you staring at me so?"

He smiled and Nell blinked at the powerful charm in that simple expression. Oh, lud! she thought. Her wits must have fled completely if a mere smile from him could make her feel so bedazzled.

"Forgive me," Julian said, amusement in his voice. "I could not help myself-I did not expect you to, er, clean up so well. You are very beautiful-far more beautiful than I remembered."

Nell snorted, ignoring the spurt of pleasure his words gave her. "You do not have to court me, my lord," she muttered. "My father has made it clear that we are to be married on Wednesday next and that nothing short of death will prevent it."

Sir Edward had hinted that his daughter was not happy with the situation, but Julian had not quite believed him. Without being vain, he knew he was, after all, quite a catch. Her words and manner, however, made it apparent that Sir Edward had not underestimated the fact that she was singularly unimpressed by him-and his title and wealth. And to think, Julian mused, that instead of this angry-eyed little shrew, he could have found himself a sweet, docile young thing to marry-a fawning creature who would not have caused him a moment's distress. Fighting back a grin, his gaze swept up and down her form before returning to her face and lingering on the stubborn jaw and willful mouth. His new bride, he decided, was going to be a challenge...and a handful-if the defiant set of her head was anything to go by.

Aloud, he merely asked, "And would you prefer death to marriage with me?"

Nell's lips tightened. How ungentlemanly of him! She shot him a hostile glance. "Of course not-I am not a fool."

"Then don't act like one."

Nell started at the crisp tone. Some of her belligerence fading, but not much, she demanded, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my dear, that we are in this together. Both of our lives have changed in a manner neither one of us could have imagined twenty-four hours ago. Do not forget that you are not the only one being forced into marriage with a stranger. We can either make the best of it, or we can spend our time making ourselves unhappy. The choice is ours. I, for one, do not intend to spend the rest of my life in misery."

"But aren't you angry at what happened? Doesn't it make you furious that you are compelled to marry a woman you hardly know?" Nell's lips trembled and she looked down at the floor. Honesty compelled her to add, "You will be marrying a woman who has been branded half-mad by society and, as you may have noticed, a woman who is also a cripple."

Julian tipped up her chin, his hand warm against her skin. His eyes gleaming with an emotion she could not name, he demanded softly, "Do you know that I nearly called out one of my best friends for referring to you in those terms?"

Nell's eyes widened and her heart banged painfully in her chest. "D-D-Did you?" she managed, her skin tingling where he touched it.

Julian nodded. "And if I was prepared to fight a duel with him, what should I do with you for daring to say the same thing about the woman I am going to marry, hmmm?"

Nell couldn't think. He was too close. She was too aware of his hand beneath her chin, too conscious of his wide-shouldered body and blatant masculinity, to do more than stare, her reaction to him evident.

Something clenched painfully within him at her wide-eyed expression and, giving into the whim that had been with him since they'd met at the toll keeper's cottage, his lips captured hers. Her mouth was soft and startled, the taste and texture of it beyond his imagination. He had known that he would enjoy kissing her, had known that her lips would be sweet and warm, but he could never have guessed at the fierce, powerful desire that would twist and knot within him the moment his mouth touched hers.

Nell gasped, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as his lips caught hers. His mouth was firm and knowing as it slid across hers, the roiling emotions it left in its wake like none she had ever experienced. Her blood raced and warmth bloomed within her, her entire body responding to the caress of his lips like a bud to the April sun. Instinctively she arched nearer, her mouth eager for him to continue the kiss.

The effect of her nearness on him was no less dramatic for Julian, but while he had never felt such explosive desire before, he recognized the signs...and the danger. If he did not bring a halt to this sweet dalliance now, within minutes, he would have that charming gown up around her waist and he would be securely notched between her legs. With an effort, he tore his lips from hers and set her away from him.