"That," he said in a thickened tone, "was not why your father left us alone together."

Fighting off the giddiness his kiss engendered, she asked with credible command, "Why did he leave us alone?"

"To allow me to formally ask for your hand." A faint smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "We both thought that you might like to receive a proper offer."

Her resentment returned and turning away from him, she said, "My lord, you are wasting your time. I will be honest: I do not wish to wed-you or any other man. And having you formally request my hand is not going to change my mind."

He turned her back to face him. "Are you so very certain that you don't wish to marry me? Do you find me so very distasteful?"

"I could name several gentlemen that I do not find distasteful," she hedged, "but that does not mean that I wish to marry them."

Julian grimaced. Aware of his worth and used to being much courted and petted by the opposite sex, he did not know whether to be amused or insulted by her refusal to fall in with his wishes. One thing he did know: he wanted her, and her rejection of him roused the hunter within him. Having her resist him was a novel occurrence for him. He could not remember a time when he had cast out his lures and a woman had made it so plain that his advances were not desired. He smiled, anticipation curling through him. He was going to have to work hard at wooing his reluctant bride...and he rather thought that he was going to enjoy it...immensely.

Chapter 6.

The days after the scene in the library with Julian passed in a terrifying blur for Nell. The news of the engagement created the furor that the earl and Anslowe family had assumed it would. In the time before her wedding, at the few social functions she attended, Nell was stared at and pointed out as the future bride of the Earl of Wyndham. Conversation stopped when she entered a room and she was aware of the whispers that followed her. Of course, she knew they were speculating about the reasons behind the sudden wedding and she knew that all the old gossip about her and Bethune had been disinterred. With every passing moment Nell began to understand why the earl had been so adamant about a quick wedding. He was, damn him, correct: the sooner they wed, the sooner the storm would pass.

Not all of the interest in the coming nuptials was unkind. Friends of the baronet's family, and there were many, flooded the Anslowe townhouse, their delight in her having made such a grand match sincere-if astonished. At the townhouse of the Earl of Wyndham, grand and titled friends of the earl also came to call and they, too, seemed pleased that Julian had finally chosen a bride. And if they were mystified about his choice, who could blame them? Wyndham could have looked as high as he pleased for a bride, and after years of being the despair of every matchmaking mama in England, without warning he had offered his hand to the daughter of a mere baronet, albeit a wealthy, respected one.

There were, Nell supposed, some compensations for being handed over in marriage to the earl. Her father never stopped smiling and even her brothers seem to think that she had accomplished some impressive task for having snared Wyndham. Nell did not know whether to laugh or scream. She had never suspected that her father-or her brothers, for that matter-had lusted after a higher position amongst the ton, but to see them basking in the earl's aura of power and influence revised her opinion. I seem to be the only one, she thought sourly, not ready to fall down and worship at his boots. Which wasn't to say, she admitted, that she did not find him attractive...too attractive for her own liking. She was determined not to fall under his charm and she was having a hard time of it-especially when he smiled at her in that certain way...Damning herself for a fool she looked forward to her approaching wedding day with all the enthusiasm of sleeping naked in a nettle patch.

Julian viewed his coming wedding with an anticipation and impatience that surprised him. He told himself that it was only because he wanted the hubble-bubble surrounding his marriage behind him, but he knew that he was deluding himself. Every time he saw Nell, as he thought of her these days, or touched her hand, every time their glances caught and held, he'd swear that the air smelled of orange blossoms and that he'd developed an unsettling tendency to float across the room. It didn't matter that they'd never shared another private moment or that their meetings were always public. He had only to see her across the length of a room for his heart to leap and his step to lighten. He was not pleased with his reaction to her, particularly since he had set himself out to be at his most winning and the lady continued to treat him with cool resignation. But he was willing to bide his time-after all, they were going to be married for a very long time. The earl was a confident man, not a vain one, but occasionally he did wonder if he was being vain in assuming that he could win the heart of his lady. She certainly, he admitted wryly, seemed impervious to the lures he threw her way. He grinned. And her very imperviousness only whetted his appetite.

Not everyone was thrilled with the announcement of the earl's engagement to Miss Anslowe. Lady Wyndham tottered to her bed with her vinaigrette, convinced that Miss Anslowe was an ogre, and determined to wrest Julian's affections from her and her daughter. The coming wedding filled her with dread and when she could be pried from her bed and vinaigrette, she went about with such a lachrymose expression that most people assumed that the earl had indeed kept his interest in Miss Anslowe quiet because of his father's widow.

Elizabeth, of a far less dramatic mind than her mother, wasn't exactly displeased with the coming addition to the family, but she was aware that the life she and her mother had shared with Julian was changing forever and she suffered the occasional worry about the future.

Talcott, too, had reservations about the impending marriage, but on the whole, having met Miss Anslowe at a private dinner at the earl's residence on Thursday evening, found himself unexpectedly charmed by her. He was inclined to think that if his friend had to be married, the Anslowe baggage might do him very well. Considering her firm little chin and the intelligence gleaming in her fine eyes, she would certainly, he conceded with a smile, lead Julian a merry dance.

It took awhile, but even a few of the earl's friends and relatives who had already left London for their country estates or snug hunting boxes returned to town to see for themselves the little minx who had finally brought Julian to his knees. A week after the announcement had appeared in the newspaper, Marcus Sherbrook was shown into the library. Finding Julian alone, sprawled in a chair near the fire apparently lost in a brown study, he murmured, "Regretting it already, Cousin? And the wedding not two days away!"

A glad smile broke across Julian's dark features and he started to his feet. "Marcus! I had not thought to see you in town again so soon."

"What? And miss what bodes to be the most talked-about event of the year? Good God, do you take me for a flat?"

They met in the middle of the room, two tall, dark-haired men, their liking for each other obvious. Grinning at Marcus as he shook his hand, Julian said, "I'll wager you never thought this day would come."

Amusement gleaming in his cool gray eyes, Marcus admitted, "I'm afraid you have me there. I own that I can hardly wait to meet this paragon who has captured the one man I thought for sure would never stick his head in the parson's mousetrap again."

Showing him to a seat near the fire, Julian shrugged. "There are moments that I have trouble believing it myself, but when you meet her..." A wry smile crossed his mouth. "When you meet her you will either think me mad or curse me for finding her first."

Settling himself with careless elegance across from Julian, Marcus studied him, seeking for any hidden meaning in his words. He knew Julian well and what he saw must have satisfied him for he relaxed into the comfort of the overstuffed chair and stretched his long legs before him.

Only two years separated their ages, with Julian being the eldest. Marcus was the son of the eldest sister of the previous earl and it could be said that the cousins had known each other almost since the hour of their birth. Lady Barbara Weston had married Mr. Sherbrook, a very wealthy country gentleman of impeccable lineage whose estates lay not thirty miles from Wyndham Manor, and Marcus and Julian had grown up together. They'd shared the terrors of Eaton together, the joys of Oxford and holidays in the country, both equally comfortable in each other's homes. Beyond their dark hair and tall, athletic physiques, they shared few features in common, although there was a faint family resemblance about the eyes and nose.

Julian rang for his butler and conversation was desultory until after Dibble had brought in a decanter of brandy and two snifters and departed. Pouring his cousin a drink, Julian said, "I assume you read the notice in the newspaper."

Swirling the brandy around and letting the delicate fumes rise in the air, Marcus said, "Actually, no. The news came from one of our esteemed cousins." He made a face. "Charles appeared on my doorstep a few days ago-he had read the announcement in the newspaper."

"Hopefully Charles will use a little of the sense I know he possesses and not assume that I am marrying to spite him," Julian muttered. He shook his head, his expression rueful. "If only my uncle had not got a maggot in his head that my father had somehow cheated him out of the title and poisoned Charles's mind there would not be this bitterness between us."

"To put paid to any of Charles's lingering delusions, let us hope that your bride proves to be most fertile and that this time next year we are toasting the birth of your son," Marcus said. Raising his snifter, he smiled and added, "The first of many, I trust."

Julian raised his own glass. "As you said-we can hope."

The toast drunk, Marcus said, "So, tell me of this young woman-and your rapid courtship. I've racked my brains trying to recall if I have ever met her and, do you know, I cannot place her."

Julian laid out the same story that he had trotted out for Talcott and only by a sardonically lifted brow did Marcus betray that he thought it all hum. "What a rapper!" Marcus said when Julian had finished. "And too smoky by half, Cousin. Now tell me the truth and not this Canterbury tale."

Julian laughed. "I fear my lips are sealed, but know that I am not unhappy with the turn of events and that I think you will like Miss Anslowe-and her family. Sir Edward is an affable gentleman, and her three brothers the same. Their breeding and fortune are above reproach and they don't appear to have any loose-fish lurking in the background." His mouth twisted. "Unlike our side of the family. One thing I can be sure of, knowing their worth, I'll not have them hanging on my purse strings. The Anslowes appear to be a nice, respectable family-far more respectable than certain members of ours."

"Ah, so the lady comes from a long line of paragons of virtue?"

Julian grinned. "Of course. Would the Earl of Wyndham expect any less?"

Marcus returned the grin. "And the lovely widgeon, your dear stepmama? How does she take this turn of events?"

"Oh, gad! I have been subjected to tears and spasms such as you never imagined. Diana is positive that Miss Anslowe intends to cast her and Lizzie onto the street with barely the clothes on their backs."

"Does she?" Marcus asked, with a cocked brow.

"I seriously doubt it. Miss Anslowe doesn't strike me as stupid or cruel." Julian made a face. "I'm sure that there will be a few, uh, changes that she will institute, but I see no major upsets."

"And here I thought that you were a downy one!" Marcus exclaimed, laughter gleaming in his eyes. "Might as well throw the cat amongst the pigeons. I don't envy you the domestic wars you're about to face."

Julian shrugged. "You may be right, but since Diana and Elizabeth have elected to remain here in town indefinitely, when they do return to Wyndham Manor, Nell should be well established as mistress of the house."

"And in the meantime? I assume that you will bring your bride here at least for a day or two before leaving for Wyndham Manor. Won't that be a trifle tricky considering Lady Diana's attitude?"

"That's already been taken care of-immediately following the wedding breakfast at her father's townhouse, my bride and I will be leaving for a week in the country," Julian said. "Talcott very kindly offered me, us, that little place of his in Surrey. If I'm lucky, Diana and my wife won't have a chance to come to fisticuffs for several weeks-if not months."

"Never tell me that Lady Diana is not attending your wedding!"

"Oh, no, she and Elizabeth will be there-never fear." His expression hard, Julian added, "After the most moving and tearful session that you can ever imagine, I told Diana that if she intended to have a friendly relationship with both my wife and myself, that it would be in her best interest to make an appearance at the wedding." He smiled grimly. "She saw my point...and I held out the added lure that since I am sending Dibble and several of the senior staff to Wyndham Manor for the winter, she has carte blanche to hire her own servants. I'm hoping by next spring she can be convinced that she'd like an establishment in town of her own-one I'll joyfully provide-and Nell and I will have this place to ourselves."

There was much left unsaid and Marcus did not envy Julian the coming months. The conversation went on to other topics, but eventually wandered back to the coming nuptials. "Have you heard from Stacey? I can't imagine him missing your wedding."

Thinking of the Honorable Stacey Bannister, the son of Julian's father's youngest and best-beloved sister, Julian smiled. "Stacey? No, I have not heard from or seen him, but I expect him to arrive on my doorstep any moment, just as you did."

"And Charles and his brother and dear Aunt Sofia? Will they arrive on your doorstep, too?"

Julian's lips thinned. "Aside from our other differences, Charles is aware that I hold him partially responsible for Daniel's death. I know that he loved the boy and I'm certain that in his mind he saw nothing wrong in introducing Daniel to Tynedale and that wild crowd of his-probably thought he was doing him a favor, but that favor led to Daniel's suicide. I doubt that Charles or any of his family will attend."

His gaze on the amber liquor in his snifter, Julian's thoughts were far away, dwelling on the tragedy of Daniel's death and the estrangement between himself and Charles-once considered one of his favorite cousins.

After a moment he shook away the darkness and asked abruptly, "Where are you staying? Surely you did not reopen your townhouse for this short stay?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, I've taken a suite of rooms at Stephens's and will return to my hunting box on Thursday."

The two men rose and, walking Marcus to the door, Julian asked, "Will you be my groomsman?"

"Indeed. I would be insulted if you had not asked."

The day of the wedding dawned wet and dreary and, staring at the unappealing weather, Nell rather thought that it fit her mood exactly. The past precious few days had vanished in a rush of preparation, but now all was in readiness. The Special License had been obtained, the church selected, and her father had ordered Chatham to see that all was in readiness for the wedding breakfast to be held at the house immediately following the wedding. The kitchen staff, prodded and berated by Cook had been working at a full gallop in the short time allotted them to prepare food and drink that would not shame a pasha.

The wedding was scheduled for eleven thirty that morning and, beyond the occasional flash of panic, Nell felt detached from the proceedings. She had taken little part, letting her father and the earl make plans as they wished. If she was going to be handed off like a piece of booty from one pirate to another, what difference did her opinion matter?

Entering the carriage for the short ride to the cathedral, she listened with only half an ear to her father's muttered complaints about the steady rain. In the cold, damp church, she removed her cloak, shook out her pale lilac gown, adjusted the small flowered headdress of yellow rosebuds and, with her father at her side walked down the aisle to meet the man who would be her husband.

The wedding party was small: only Nell, Julian, Sir Edward, Nell's brothers, Marcus Sherbrook, who acted as Julian's groomsman, Elizabeth and Lady Diana, who sobbed daintily into her lace handkerchief. Several of the pews were filled, though, with members of the ton who attended, Nell suspected, as much from curiosity as a desire to share in the celebration. The service was mercifully brief and passed in a haze for Nell. All she was aware of was the wide gold band that lay heavily on her finger and that the tall, broad-shouldered stranger at her side was now her husband. Not even her father's beaming face nor the proud expressions on her brothers' faces, nor even the kind smile bent upon her by Julian's groomsman, broke through the gloom that surrounded her.

For her family's sake, despite her detached air, Nell tried to partake in the festivities. At the wedding breakfast, she ate, chatted and graciously accepted the congratulations given to her by the various guests, all the while wondering if this was another nightmare, different, but no less terrifying.

The time finally came to leave, and amid laughter and good wishes, her sable-lined cloak billowing in the wind from the storm, she was handed into Wyndham's coach for the drive to Talcott's mansion some miles outside of London. She and Julian would remain there a week-long enough for her husband's formidable butler, Dibble, and others of the earl's servants to return to Wyndham Hall, her new home in the country, and for them to make everything ready for the arrival of the new lady of the house.

In the meantime, there was the present to be gotten through. Suddenly thinking of the night to come she swallowed and risked a glance at the tall, dark-haired gentleman sitting across from her. Good God! He, this stranger, this man she barely knew, was going to share her bed tonight and, if he so chose, all the nights for the remainder of her life.

In the murky, uncertain light inside the coach, she stared across at him, feeling like a mare confronted by an unknown stallion. And I am not even in season, she thought almost hysterically.

Catching her eye, Julian smiled. "Everything must seem a little strange to you."

"A little," she admitted, dropping her gaze to her gloved hands.

"I am sorry for it-the haste of our marriage."

"Only the haste?" she asked dryly.

He shrugged. "Ours is not your usual match, but it is also not the first time that strangers have found themselves wed to each other." When she remained silent, he bent forward and she scooted back slightly, keeping a good distance between them. Julian noted it and his lips tightened. A skittish bride did not bode well for their future together. Quietly he said, "As I told you once, we can make of this what we want. I cannot force you into complaisance, nor can I make you, if not happy in our marriage, at least content. Only you can do that."

Her jaw clenched. "How very easy for you to say-your life is not the one torn asunder," she snapped. "It is in your home that I will be living, your servants that inhabit it. They are all strangers to me, used to your stepmother's ways, and now, suddenly, I am to supplant your stepmother in a place she has called home for years! I lief as face a pack of wild boars! Beyond my own maid, Becky, and my clothing, there will not be one thing that is familiar to me-and I am to be happy with that? Content?" Her eyes flashed. "I have left behind everything that I have ever known-my father, my home-for what? Life with a man I did not want to marry and do not know."

"I concede all of those things," he admitted ruefully, "but in time I trust that you will no longer think of them as mine, but as ours."

Irritated by his calm, sensible manner, she demanded, "Are you always so reasonable?"

He laughed. "No, not always-I have been known to lose my temper, though not often, I hope, and I'm not above sulking about when things don't go as I planned." Reaching across the distance that separated them, he took one of her hands in his. "I know that this not easy for you"-and when she would have spoken, he added hastily-"and that it is far easier for me than you." His eyes met hers. "But we are married, and while all is strange and unfamiliar now, we have our whole lives to learn of each other."

"Aren't you the least angry at having an unknown female foisted off on you as your bride?" she asked curiously.

"Not when she is a charming and agreeable as you, my dear," he replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

Despite herself, Nell giggled. "What a whisker! I have not been the least charming and I certainly would not call my conduct agreeable."

"Now how am I to reply to that? I am far too polite to call my wife, a liar-" the twinkle became more pronounced-"nor would I dare say, not if I value my life, that you are dis- agreeable."

"A quandary, most certainly, my lord, but one from which a gentleman of your address should speedily extricate himself," she said, an impish smile crossing her face.

He laughed and her mood inexplicably lightened and she was able to enjoy the journey. The earl had set himself to entertaining his reluctant bride and when the coach swung to a stop in front of a charming mansion sometime later, Nell descended the coach, if not happy with the situation, at least no longer so glum.

The earl knew the servants, having stayed at Talcott's place many times before, and after Talcott's butler had shown them to an elegant salon, he asked, "Tell me, Hurst, has my valet and milady's maid arrived?"

Hurst bowed and said, "Yes, my lord, a few hours ago."

Julian turned back to Nell and said, "Perhaps you would like to see your room and change and refresh yourself before dinner?"

Nell gratefully fell in with his suggestion. She was shown upstairs to her bedchamber, where she found Becky waiting for her. Becky, born and bred in the country, was still stunned by the sudden marriage. Her eyes big, she said, "Oh, miss..." She blushed and corrected, "Your ladyship, I am so glad to see you! I feared that I might well be waiting for you in the earl's bedroom and I was ready sink if his lordship should have come in!"

Relaxing for the first time since she'd woken this morning, Nell laughed. Glancing around the elegant rooms, she asked, "Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yes, miss-your ladyship! Everyone has been so kind."

With her open, freckled face and springy red hair, Becky Farnsworth was as far removed from the idea of a proper lady's maid as possible-and that suited Nell just fine. At Meadowlea Nell usually dispensed with a personal maid but for this trip to London, at her father's insistence, she had pressed Becky, normally an upper housemaid, into service. Becky, having never been more than five miles from Meadowlea in her life, had been elated, and with her sunny manner and lively willingness to throw herself into completing any chore, she had proven to be just the sort of lady's maid that Nell wanted.

"I wasn't certain how soon to order a bath brought or," Becky began, as she followed Nell into the actual bedroom, "how much to unpack, miss...er, your ladyship, but I did lay out your night things and had your bronze-green gown pressed for this evening."

"Thank you," Nell said as she wandered restlessly around the room. She felt helpless and, despite Wyndham's actions and conversation during their long ride here, just a little frightened. She dreaded the night to come. She was not a child and raised in the country-she'd been overseeing the breeding of her own horses since she was sixteen-she knew what was expected of her. The earl-and she would concede it-was a handsome man. She was relieved that she did not find him repulsive or disgusting, but she still wasn't looking forward to his lovemaking. He wasn't unappealing, reminding herself of those moments in the toll keeper's cottage just before her father and brother had interrupted them, and then there was that kiss...Perhaps if he was patient with her she could rouse some enthusiasm for the deed?

As Julian prepared to meet Nell in the dining room, her words in the coach came back to him and he tried to imagine how he would feel if everything familiar was swept away from him. Even this house and its servants, while not his, were well known to him; but for Nell, except for that maid of hers, everything was unfamiliar.

Attracted to his bride in a way he had not considered possible, Julian was eager for his wedding night, but it occurred to him that Nell might not share his eagerness. He had enough confidence in his lovemaking skills to know that he could make tonight, if not totally pleasurable, at least less of an ordeal, but uncertainty beset him at the idea of making love to an unwilling bride. His bride, he had realized during the coach ride to the house, was still not ecstatic with the marriage and was decidedly wary of him and her future. He smiled ruefully. So much for his vaunted position in the world, and he was pleased that Nell was not impressed by his title and wealth...but for tonight it might have made things easier if she had been. Yet when he thought of a fawning bride enamored of his position and money, allowing him her bed because of who he was, he found the idea distasteful. Recalling the stubborn tilt to her chin, he had no fears that Nell would ever fawn over him and he suspected that gaining her bed tonight with her delighted participation was not likely to happen. So how, he wondered wryly, did he get what he wanted and yet not make her more wary and aloof than she already was?

It was Nell herself who solved his dilemma. Both had partaken sparingly of the sumptuous feast spread out for them in the dining room. It was not a comfortable meal and the conversation between Julian and Nell was stilted, and when the meal was over, it was with relief that they both rose from the table.

Declining to linger alone over his wine, Julian followed Nell into a small sitting room. Once Hurst had shut the double doors after them, Julian wandered over to a gleaming table that held an array of crystal decanters and various glasses. Looking back at Nell as she sat stiffly on a small blue satin sofa, he asked, "Would you care for a small glass of hock?"

She nodded, deciding that holding a glass would give her something to do with her hands. After handing her the glass, Julian took his own glass and seated himself across from her in a chair that matched the sofa. An awkward silence fell.

Nell took a deep breath, a gulp of her wine and rushed into speech. "My lord, I must talk to you about tonight."

"Yes? What about tonight?" he asked, taking a sip of his wine.

Her cheeks blooming pink, Nell blurted out, "I do not want you in my bed."

Hiding his dismay, Julian replied, "Ah, unless memory fails me, we are man and wife and I believe that the joys of the marriage bed are much touted." He smiled charmingly at her. "I was rather looking forward to finding out for myself if it is true."

She gritted her teeth. "Well, would you mind not looking forward to it tonight?"

He studied her, noting the stiffness of her body, the glitter of half-fright, half defiance in the sea green eyes. He had feared an unwilling bride; he just hadn't realized how very unwilling she was. With a vision of his previous, unpleasant marriage in mind, he asked quietly, "Are you suggesting that the marriage never be consummated?"

Nell shook her head. "Not that," she said firmly. "I just beg your indulgence and that you allow us time to learn more about each other before..." She swallowed. "Before we consummate our marriage."