She had lain, tossing and turning, waiting for him to come to her room. Hoping. But he had not visited her, and Priscilla was not bold enough to go to a man's room uninvited. She had told herself that he was not avoiding her, that he was simply wary of Miss Pennybaker, a notoriously light sleeper-or that he respected her too much to put her in a compromising position in her own home. But she had had difficulty believing her words, given the stiff and remote way he acted toward her during the day. Their easy friendliness seemed to have vanished with the night they had spent in the forest. It seemed to Priscilla that John made every effort not to be alone with her, and when they did happen to be without companions, they sat in awkward silence and John soon made some excuse to leave the room. She was beginning to think that the vicar's wife had been right that time when she had told Priscilla that a man wanted only one thing from an unmarried woman, and that once he got it, he was no longer interested in her.

But the look that had flamed in John's eyes tonight was not that of a man who was no longer interested in a woman. It had been a hot, devouring gaze, as if he could barely keep from reaching out and taking her in his arms. Priscilla smiled in acknowledgment-a slow, sultry smile that was guaranteed not to reduce the heat in a man's blood the least bit.

"Ah, Miss Pennybaker!" the general said, moving forward to take that lady's hand and gallantly kiss it. "You are a vision. And Miss Hamilton. I can tell that the pupil took after the teacher." He let out a short blast of laughter. "Ha-ha!"

Florian gave him a sour look. "Are we leaving, or are we going to stand here all day oozing compliments?"

The general cast him a quelling look and offered Miss Pennybaker his arm. They swept toward the front door, followed by a grumbling Florian.

"Priscilla..."

"Yes?" Priscilla turned and looked up at John, forcing herself to appear innocent and unconcerned.

"I... That is, you..."

"Yes?"

"Nothing." He held his arm out stiffly, and Priscilla laid her hand on it. It gave her another little burst of satisfaction to feel that his arm trembled slightly beneath his coat.

She knew that she looked her best in this striking blue gown. The color and the shimmering satin did wonders for her skin and eyes, and the heart-shape neckline of the dress exposed the quivering tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, pushed up by the stiff corset she wore beneath. Priscilla remembered how John had kissed those b.r.e.a.s.t.s, laving and caressing them until she was at a fever pitch of desire. The memory made heat flood her abdomen. She glanced over at John, wondering whether he remembered it, too. From the stiff way his jaw was set, she had a suspicion that he did.

All the way to the Court, John said almost nothing, although Priscilla caught him sneaking a look at her now and then. She pretended not to notice, and maintained what she hoped was an indifferent silence. Florian, scrunched in the corner of the seat across from the general and Miss Pennybaker, crossed his arms and glowered at them. That left Miss Pennybaker and her swain to carry the conversation, which they seemed to have no trouble doing. He complimented her, and she giggled; he whispered into her ear, and she waved her fan coquettishly; he made jokes, and she t.i.ttered, declaring him "too wicked for words." Even Priscilla, pleased as she was for her friend, felt that she might be ill if she had to ride much longer with them.

Ranleigh Court was impressive. Built of ma.s.sive gray stone in the shape of an E, a conceit popular in the Elizabethan times, it loomed at the end of a long drive. An Aylesworth of the eighteenth century had ordered all the trees along the drive cut down, so that nothing would obstruct one's view of the huge house as one approached it.

John, looking out of the carriage, let out a low whistle. "That's what Alec stands to inherit?"

Priscilla nodded. "Along with quite a bit of land."

"Looks like a lot for that runaway heir to give up."

"It is something to behold," Priscilla admitted. "But Alec says it is a monstrosity to maintain."

"I can imagine."

They emerged from the carriage at the front door and walked in through the front doors, opened by a pair of footmen. The receiving line was at the head of a grand staircase, where the d.u.c.h.ess waited, Alec restless at her side. Alec greeted Priscilla joyously and John with some reserve, then pa.s.sed them along to his mother.

The d.u.c.h.ess was an attractive woman still. She had married the old Duke when she was only seventeen, so that despite having a grown son, she was still a year or so away from forty. She had fought approaching age with such fury and dedication that she managed to look even younger than that. Her hair was blond and arranged in such a way that feathery curls framed her face, softening the rather sharp set of her features. Her eyes were a lovely blue, and she had darkened the pale lashes around them, so that this, her most attractive feature, dominated the remainder of her face. Her mouth, however, was small, and her nose sharp, and because she tried her best to keep her face free of lines by rarely smiling or frowning, there was an unnatural stiffness to her expression.

She beamed at Priscilla as she greeted them, startling Priscilla, who had long felt that the d.u.c.h.ess disliked her. Then Priscilla realized that it was not she who was the object of the smile but rather John, standing just behind her. The d.u.c.h.ess ran her eyes over his tall form, a spark of appreciation in her eye, and said gaily, "Priscilla, how wonderful to see you. Pray, tell me, who is your friend?"

The look the d.u.c.h.ess gave John was almost blatantly leering. Priscilla suppressed a quiver of distaste and forced herself to smile, stepping aside so that John could move directly in front of the other woman.

"Your Grace, this is John Wolfe, who is visiting with us. Mr. Wolfe, allow me to introduce you to the d.u.c.h.ess of Ranleigh."

"I hope you are having a pleasant visit," the d.u.c.h.ess said, dimpling and looking up flirtatiously through her lashes at John.

"All the more pleasant, Your Grace," John said with smile, "now that I have met you."

Priscilla would have expected Bianca to preen at the obvious compliment, to giggle and bat her eyelashes. Instead, she looked startled. "I- Ah, you are an American?"

"Yes, I am. Pray do not hold that against me."

"No. Of course not." Bianca continued to stare at his face. "It is just, well...it surprised me. We are not used to such distant travelers here, are we, Miss Hamilton?"

"No. Not usually." Seeing the d.u.c.h.ess's expression, Priscilla felt a sudden urge to see her reaction to John's story. "In fact, Mr. Wolfe would merely have pa.s.sed through here-if it had not been for what happened to him."

"Happened to him?" The d.u.c.h.ess's voice rose almost to a squeak, and she glanced apprehensively at John.

"Yes," Priscilla went on earnestly. "Mr. Wolfe was attacked by ruffians."

"Attacked? Here?" Bianca's skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor, and Priscilla noticed that her hands were clenched tightly around her delicate ivory fan. "But how dreadful!"

"Yes, wasn't it?" Priscilla agreed. "It seems as if it is becoming positively unsafe to travel the roads anymore."

"Yes." Bianca looked distracted, and repeated in a faint voice, "How dreadful. What-what did they want?"

"My valuables, of course. They took my wallet, my pocket watch, all my cuff links," John told her.

Priscilla saw the other woman's shoulders sag a little in seeming relief. "That was all they wanted? Your valuables?"

John raised his brows. "I presume so. What else could they have wanted? I don't know anyone here, so they could hardly have done it out of animosity toward me."

Bianca smiled, and this time Priscilla was certain that it was relief she saw on the d.u.c.h.ess's face. "Of course. How silly of me. I am sure you are right. It was simply a random theft. It is so distressing how crime runs rampant these days." She cast a quick glance around. "If you will excuse me, I must attend to my guests. It was ever so nice to meet you, Mr. Wolfe."

She flashed a bright, meaningless smile at him and Priscilla, then turned to the general and Miss Pennybaker, waiting behind them. "Ah, General, how wonderful to see you."

Priscilla and John moved several steps away from the d.u.c.h.ess and stood watching her, pretending to be in idle conversation.

"Well, my presence certainly seemed to cause some distress to the d.u.c.h.ess," John said dryly.

"Yes. I would say that Bianca was not entirely ignorant of Oliver's plan to kidnap you."

"Do you suppose she merely knew of his plan, or that she, too, wanted to be rid of me?"

"I don't know. Did you notice that she did not recognize you by sight? It was not until she heard your voice that she began to act strangely. It seemed to be because you were an American."

"I cannot imagine sheer xenophobia setting one to hire thugs to beat up all Americans."

"No. I admit it seems unlikely. Let's see what she does."

They moved over to the wall, casually hanging about behind a large potted palm and watching the receiving line through the palm fronds. As they watched, the d.u.c.h.ess gave a dismissive smile and nod to the general and Miss Pennybaker and turned away, looking all about the room. Finally she spotted what she was seeking, and headed in a determined manner across the room. Priscilla and John followed at a discreet distance. Finally she came to a stop beside Benjamin Oliver, who was in conversation with another woman. Bianca flashed a quick, dismissive smile at the woman and tugged urgently at his sleeve. He gave the woman an apologetic bow and went with Bianca.

The couple came straight toward Priscilla and John, who quickly turned and began to admire an alabaster statue a short distance from them.

"What the devil do you want?" they heard Benjamin snap as the couple pa.s.sed behind them. The d.u.c.h.ess's reply was m.u.f.fled by the sound of her rapid steps on the marble floor.

Once Oliver and Bianca were past them, Priscilla and John turned and sauntered after them, doing their best not to look as if they were following. They need not have bothered with the subterfuge. Neither Bianca nor Oliver looked back. They were too busy glaring at each other to notice anyone else.

Bianca led Oliver out a side door, and Priscilla and John slipped through the same door a moment later. They saw their quarry halfway down the hall. The couple turned left and disappeared into a room. Priscilla and John hurried quietly down the hall, slowing down when they grew close to the room. The closed door m.u.f.fled the sound of the voices inside, so that they could tell little, except that a high-pitched woman's voice was shrieking. Priscilla motioned to John to follow her and ducked back into the room they had just pa.s.sed. She pointed to a door in the side wall of the room.

"A connecting door," she whispered. Carefully they eased the hall door closed behind them and made their way to the connecting door. Here, sound escaped much more freely around the edges of the door.

"...could you have been such a fool?" they heard Bianca snap.

"Would you quit storming about and tell me why you are so furious?" a man's voice lashed back. "You sound like a sea gull."

"Don't try to draw me off the subject by insulting me. It won't work. You have ruined everything. Bungled it all."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a man with that nasty little Priscilla Hamilton. Didn't you see him?"

"No." Oliver's voice grew wary. "Why? Who is he?"

"I don't know who he is. I never saw him or heard of him in my life. The point is that he is an American! And he told me that he had been attacked and robbed a few days ago."

"No! It's impossible." They heard a thud as Oliver hit something. "G.o.d d.a.m.n them! They swore to me that they would get him this time."

"This time?" Bianca said dangerously. "This time? What do you mean by that? What other time was there?"

"He got away." There was a surly tone in Oliver's voice. "But they promised that they would get him back. I offered them money, threatened them, everything I could think of, and they promised."

"Why didn't you tell me this? Did you think I didn't need to know? Why did you leave me to find out from this perfect stranger, to run into him and hear..." Her sentence ended in a wordless shriek of rage.

"It is all right, my love. Calm down. I will manage it somehow."

"Why isn't he dead? I told you to kill him! Why couldn't they manage to kill him? Did you hire utter idiots? What am I thinking? Of course you did. You are an utter idiot yourself!"

"I- Well, it did not seem entirely necessary to kill him. I thought perhaps he could be reasoned with, made to see that it would be better for him to go back to the United States."

"You coward! You were too scared to kill him-even to hire someone else to do it for you!"

"Well, it was not you whose neck was on the line," Oliver told her petulantly. "Those two fellows never met you. You are not the one they could inform on to the police. Easy for you to be so brave, when I was the one doing the dirty work."

"A d.u.c.h.ess can hardly go about hiring ruffians," Bianca reminded him haughtily. "What good are you to me, if you can't do even something as simple as this?"

"I will do it. Right now, this very evening. I shall s.n.a.t.c.h him as he leaves the party."

"He is with friends. What do you plan to do, whisk away the entire carriage?" Bianca's voice dripped sarcasm. She walked away, and they could not hear the first few words she said, but then she turned back and said, quite clearly, "Besides, he is not the one."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Priscilla and John looked at each other in equal amazement.

"What?" Oliver finally squeaked out.

"You got the wrong man," she replied wearily. "That man isn't Lynden. He could not possibly be. He is far too young. Have you no sense? How could he be Ranleigh's son?"

"Alec is Ranleigh's son," Oliver said defensively. "He is younger than this Wolfe fellow. This man was the one at the solicitor's office. The clerk sent me a note when he came in, and I went to the office, and that was the man who came out. The clerk said it was he."

"Then the clerk is as great a fool as you. Or else he was lying and pocketing your money. Lynden was practically a grown man when he left Ranleigh Court, and that was thirty years ago! He has to be middle-aged now. I told you the entire story. It all happened long before I even met Ranleigh. Lynden is old enough to be Alec's father, even if he is his brother. And you follow a young man, thinking he's the new duke!"

Priscilla and John turned toward each other, eyes wide and faces blank with astonishment.

There was another long silence on the other side of the door, then a rustle, followed by the crack of a slap. "Get your hands off me, you dolt! Lynden's out there somewhere, and I have no idea where or when he will show up. You have ruined my life, and you think you can make it up to me by playing the adoring lover? Get away!"

Her heels clattered across the floor, followed by the outer door slamming. In the room behind her, there was the sound of gla.s.s. .h.i.tting the floor and breaking. It came again and again, until Oliver had apparently exhausted either himself or his supply of breakable objects. Then he, too, stormed out of the room.

Priscilla sagged against the wall. She felt as if her legs would hardly support her. "My G.o.d!" she breathed. "They thought you were the missing heir! The Duke! That is why they attacked you!"

John scarcely heard her. He was focused on what was most important to him. "It was a mistake. It was all by chance. They don't know me. And I still have no idea who I am!"

Hearing the distress in his voice, she turned, reaching out to him. "Oh, John! I'm sorry. I didn't even think...how awful this must be for you."

"G.o.d, Priscilla, I had hoped! I wanted to find out so badly." He went into her arms, pulling her close to him and burying his face against her neck. "I wanted to lay it to rest, to find out what I am and whether I am free."

"I know. I know." Priscilla rubbed her hands soothingly over his back. She ached for him, but even so, it felt wonderful to feel his arms around her again. She had never before realized that a person could actually feel starved for another's touch. But she had been starved for John the past two days. "I am so sorry. But it will happen. I am sure of it. Don't worry. One day you will remember."

"But when?" Despite his despairing question, his voice had lost much of its strain. Her soothing touch was drawing the anguish and frustration from him.

"Don't worry about it. Just believe. It will happen. It has to."

They stood for a long moment, arms around each other. Then his arms tightened around her. Priscilla could feel tension, a different sort of tension, growing in him.

"G.o.d, you smell good," he murmured.

"Thank you." She tilted her head back to look up at him, smiling.

Her lips were soft, and faintly moist. John gazed at them, his heart beating faster in his chest. "You are so beautiful tonight. It took my breath away when you came downstairs."

"Did it?"

"All I wanted was to kiss you. And keep on kissing you. Never stop." Unconsciously, he bent his head toward hers.

"Then why don't you?"

"I can't." His voice was barely more than a breath.

"Yes, you can." Her eyes began to dance. "Look. I'll show you." She stretched up on tiptoe, raising her delectable lips to him.

He bent. Their mouths met and joined sweetly. For an instant he drank her in, his breath searing her cheek. Then he jerked back abruptly.

"No." His voice was harsh, and his breath came fast in his throat. "I must not. I cannot."

Priscilla went back flat on her feet, disappointment written on her face. "John! What is the matter? For two days you have avoided me. Why? I thought the other night-"

"No!" He turned away. "I was a fool. I should never have allowed it to go so far. It would not have happened, except that I was hardly awake, and I did not think, only did what I wanted."

"I had something to do with that, too, not just you," Priscilla pointed out reasonably.