Last night they had gone to the opera and Lee had surprised him by translating the Italian lyrics for him.

"I've always loved opera," she said, a wistful look in her eyes. "Since the first time Aunt Gabby took me to see Lucio Vero when I was a little girl."

"Where did you learn to speak Italian?" he asked.

"My aunt believed in a thorough education. Aunt Gabby says it makes a woman more interesting to a man." She shrugged. "Whatever the reason, I am grateful. I also speak Latin, and of course I speak French."

Caleb smiled, no longer daunted by her ancestry. "My French is passable at best, but I'm fluent in Spanish. It's come in handy over the past few years."

The words brought a pall over the conversation and he wished he hadn't said them. He told himself it was time to tell her how soon he would be returning to duty, but she started smiling again and he decided to wait.

Today he was taking her to the house she often visited in Buford Street, to see Helen and Annie and the other women and children who had become her friends.

Earlier that morning, he had left to run a couple of errands. Sometime just before dawn, he had started thinking again about the traitor passing secrets to the French, and though he was officially off the assignment, a couple of things needed checking into.

Foremost among them, Lucas's recent discovery that Andrew Mondale was spending money as if suddenly he had buckets of it. Coupled with the fact the man had made mention to Lee of recent troop movements on the Continent, Caleb hoped it might turn into some sort of a lead.

He hadn't voiced his suspicions to Lee. He had told her he was off the case and had been granted a couple weeks of leave. He knew he should tell her that at the end of that leave he would be returning to Spain, and vowed that soon he would do so. In the meantime, he intended they should enjoy themselves, spend as much time together as he could manage.

Caleb knocked on her door and Lee pulled it open. He reached for her, swept her into his arms, and very soundly kissed her. "Did you miss me?"

She looked up at him and the smile in her eyes made his chest feel tight. "Miss you? You've only been gone a couple of hours-of course I missed you." She kissed him, drew him farther into the room.

"Guess what?" He didn't let her go, just closed the door with the toe of his boot. "I remembered where I saw a birthmark like the one on your shoulder."

She released her hold on his neck and eased away. "Oh?"

"It was a fellow I knew at Oxford. Bronson Montague. He's heir to the Marquess of Kinleigh."

"That's interesting."

There was something guarded in her manner that put him on alert. "You don't seem that surprised."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't imagine a birthmark is all that uncommon."

Caleb reached out and caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. "It is when it is exactly the same shape as yours and in the very same location."

She turned her face away, walked over to the mullioned windows, gazed down into the street. "Those things happen, I guess."

Caleb followed. In the street below the window, a young boy hawked newspapers on the corner. A donkey with a floppy felt hat over its ears pulled a cartload of coal over the cobbles.

Caleb rested his hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. "You've never mentioned your father, Lee. I presumed you didn't know who he was. But you do know, don't you? You've known all along. Is your father the Marquess of Kinleigh?"

Beneath his hand, he felt her stiffen. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't lie to me, Lee. Not about something this important."

"Important?" Her eyes locked with his. "Why would it be important? It wasn't important when Kinleigh told my mother he was in love with her. When he asked her to marry him then got her with child. It wasn't important when he broke his promise and married someone else."

Caleb said nothing. He couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"You know why I've never been interested in marriage? Because I know how faithless men are. I know what happened to my mother. I know how the marquess treated her. Every day men just like him come to Parklands. They treat their wives little better than their livestock. Kinleigh is exactly the same. My mother died when I was four and she was still foolishly in love with him. The last word she spoke was his name."

Caleb wasn't certain what to say. Through his father and horse racing, he knew Robert Montague fairly well, had always respected him as a man of honor. He couldn't imagine the marquess seducing an innocent young girl, then abandoning her, but that was obviously what the marquess had done.

A sudden thought occurred. "Does Kinleigh know?"

"About me? I couldn't say." She nervously smoothed a lock of her hair. "I assume he does."

But maybe he didn't. Maybe he never knew his seduction had led to the birth of a child. Caleb couldn't help wondering what would happen if he found out. He gently drew Lee into his arms.

"I'm sorry about your mother. Sometimes things like that happen. But all men aren't that way. My father and mother loved each other very much. Father was devoted to Mother from the day they wed until the day she died. He misses her terribly now that she is gone. My brother Christian is madly in love with his wife. I don't believe he will ever be unfaithful."

Lee slid her arms around his neck and he tightened his hold. "Please, Caleb," she said softly. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Caleb eased her back enough to look into her face. "All right. But I want you to know I am nothing at all like your father-or the men who come to Parklands. I want you to promise me you will tell me if a child should result from the time we've spent together."

She pulled away from him, returned to her vigil at the window. "That's right-you would accept your responsibilities. I haven't forgotten, Caleb."

"I would marry you, Lee." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. What surprised him was how much he meant them. His family would probably disown him. His brothers would think he was the worst sort of fool, but marrying Lee, raising a family with her, wouldn't be a hardship for him at all.

Her gaze swung to his face and he had never seen such turbulence in her expression. "You're a soldier, Caleb. War is what you do. You'd be gone most of the time. You wouldn't be much of a father."

She was right and both of them knew it. Not much of a father-or a husband. "Better than no father at all."

Lee made no reply. Perhaps she was thinking of Robert Montague, the father she had never known.

"The day is slipping away," she finally said. "If I'm going to have time to visit with my friends, I think we had better leave."

Caleb didn't argue. He needed time to evaluate the importance of what he'd just learned. But all the way to the house in Buford Street, a single thought continued to nag him. What would Kinleigh do if he knew about Lee?

20.

In a velvet-draped bed in his mistress's extravagant suite at Parklands, the Earl of Claymont settled his head more deeply into the feather pillows. The room was a confection of pink and white, with ornate ivory and gilt furnishings, white and pink floral carpets, and pink velvet draperies.

Dylan had always felt ridiculously out of place in the overly feminine room. He wished instead they were comfortably ensconced in the big carved mahogany bed that had been in the master's suite at Claymont Hall for more than a hundred years.

Perhaps one day they would be, but he knew better than to pin his hopes on it.

"What are you thinking, darling?" Gabriella curled beside him, naked now, no longer wearing the sheer lace nightgown she had been wearing when she welcomed him into her bed. "You're a million miles away."

"What am I thinking?" He cocked a black, silver-touched eyebrow. "Aside from you and how much I enjoy making love to you? I was thinking of your niece... wondering if she is happy with her decision." It was true. He had been thinking of Vermillion off and on since the night she had journeyed from Parklands.

"Why, of course she is happy. How could she not be? Captain Tanner is obviously infatuated with her. He is bound to treat her very well."

"I suppose he will... as long as he is in London."

Gabriella rolled onto her side to face him, silvery blond hair spilling over a slender shoulder. "You don't think he'll be leaving anytime soon?"

"According to Oliver Wingate, Captain Tanner will be shipping out for Spain in less than two weeks."

"Oh, dear heavens."

"Wingate has made no secret of the matter and Lee's former suitors are all in a dither about it. You would think they would be discouraged, knowing she has obviously placed her affections somewhere else. Wingate is still furious, of course. Tanner is his subordinate, after all. As far as I'm concerned, the colonel is a pompous ass and I don't believe Vermillion ever seriously considered him."

"What about Lord Andrew? I've heard nothing of him since the ball."

"He was certainly in high dudgeon when he stormed out of the house that night-the lad is so bloody cocksure of himself. Now that he's had time to cool off a bit, I think he sees her as more of a challenge than ever. He'll be waiting at her door the instant Captain Tanner departs for Spain."

Gabriella scooted up against the ornate ivory headboard, propping herself against the pillows. "And Nash?"

"Jon isn't the sort of man to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but I'm certain he was very disappointed. Of all her admirers, Jon is the only one sincerely concerned with Lee's well-being." He cast Gabriella a glance. "He knew she was a virgin, you know."

Gabriella straightened. "What? He couldn't possibly have known."

"He knew because I told him."

"For heaven's sake, Dylan, why on earth would you do something like that?"

"Because I wanted her to be happy. I knew her innocence would appeal to Jon and that if she chose him he would treat her very well."

Instead of getting angry, Gabriella's expression softened. Leaning toward him, she brushed a light kiss over his lips. "You're a good man, Dylan Sommers."

"But you still won't marry me."

She only shook her head. In the light of the whale oil lamp next to the bed, her hair looked more silver than gold, and the pink of the draperies made her skin glow like roses. He couldn't remember a time he hadn't loved her. Before he had met her, he had loved her in his dreams.

"You know how I feel about marriage," she said. "Besides, it would hardly be fair to you. Your friends and family would spurn you. You would be banned from polite society."

"My true friends would be happy for me. As for Society... I'm an earl. You'd be amazed what a man of my wealth and position can do."

"We're happy, Dylan. If we married, things would change. We might lose the closeness we've shared all these years."

"Or we might grow even closer." But he knew she wouldn't relent. He wasn't exactly sure why. She had never said she loved him and perhaps it was as simple as that. Or perhaps she was afraid, as she had said, of destroying the special bond between them. Either way, he wouldn't press her. He wouldn't do anything that might cause him to lose her.

"I hope Vermillion will be all right," Gabriella said fretfully. "Perhaps after the captain leaves, she should move back in here for a while."

"She's in love with Tanner, you know."

Gabriella rolled her pretty blue eyes. "Don't be ridiculous." He noticed fine lines in the corners, knew how much she feared getting older, though to him she remained as lovely as she was the first time he had seen her.

"I'm afraid it's true. As much as you might wish your niece were more like you, she is different."

"She's infatuated with him. I don't believe she is in love with him. And if she were, how would you possibly know?"

Dylan gave her a tender smile. "I know, my love, because Lee looks at Caleb the way I look at you."

The evening was dark, the cobbled street slick with mist. On the corner, the sign for Wilton Street creaked in the wind sweeping in off the Thames. Somewhere in the distance, Lee heard the clatter of carriage wheels. Inside her suite at the Purley, Caleb sprawled in the comfortable bed across the way, naked beneath the sheet and sleeping soundly.

Lee glanced at the mound formed by his big body and thought of the hours they had spent making love, the several times he had brought her to fulfillment. Caleb was a skillful, considerate, extremely passionate lover, the sort of man her aunt would have wanted her to choose. He was kind and caring, solicitous of her wishes, and wildly protective of her.

He would have been the perfect choice-if she just hadn't fallen in love with him.

Her heart twisted painfully at the thought. How much longer did they have? Weeks? Months? Whatever time it was, it wouldn't be enough. She was deeply in love with him. She had never thought it would happen, worked to guard her heart, but it had happened just the same. She was in love with Caleb Tanner and more than anything in the world, she wanted him to love her in return.

I would marry you, Lee.

For an instant when he had said the words, her heart had simply turned over. But marriage had nothing at all to do with love-she knew that far better than most-and Caleb had spoken out of duty, a sense of responsibility that was completely and utterly Caleb and had nothing at all to do with whatever he might feel for her.

She told herself not to think about it and most of the time she succeeded. But not tonight.

Lee returned to her vigil at the window, gazing down at the mist-slick streets, wishing there was a way to change the way she felt, wishing Caleb didn't have to leave, wishing any number of things that hadn't the remotest chance of coming true.

The notion weighed her down and a feeling of hopelessness settled over her. Tired for the first time that night, she started to turn away from the window and return to bed when a movement below caught her eye.

In the shadows at the side of the building next to the hotel, she spotted the figure of a man. He was staring upward, toward the very place where she stood by the window, illuminated by the glow of a single burning candle.

Stepping back behind the curtain, she told herself she was mistaken, that the man was simply passing along the street and his presence had nothing to do with her, but an icy wariness trickled down her spine.

Lee blew out the candle. In the darkness, she inched nearer the window, looked down where the man had been standing, but there was no one there.

She should have been relieved that he was gone. She wasn't quite sure why she was not.

It was the afternoon of the following day that Lee returned to the house in Buford Street. Instructing the coachman to await her return, she waved a greeting to Helen Wilson, who stood on the front porch beside the open door. It was Lee's second visit to the house this week, but Helen's son, two-year-old Robbie, had come down with a pleurisy, an inflammation of the chest that kept him coughing all night, and Lee had returned to see if he had improved.

"I'm afraid he's the same," Helen said, her plump face lined with worry as she closed the door behind them. "He coughs and coughs. I'm just so worried about him."

"You mustn't fret, Helen. I stopped at the apothecary shop in Craven Street where my aunt usually trades. Mr. Dunworthy says there is some sort of illness going round. He says it is nothing to worry about. He sent some powdered mustard for a poultice along with these herbs." She handed Helen a small muslin bag. "It's a mixture of horehound, rue, and hyssop, combined with licorice and marshmallow roots. You're to place the herbs in a quart of water, boil it down to a pint, strain off the liquid, and give Robbie half a teaspoon of it every two hours."

Helen took the items with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Lee. It's hard when you're a mother. You worry about them constantly."

"I know it must be frightening whenever your child falls ill, but Mr. Dunworthy says he's seen a number of children lately with the same affliction and it doesn't last very long." She walked over to where the child lay sleeping beneath a soft woolen blanket on the sofa, his fat cheeks a little rosier than they should have been. "Is he running a fever, do you think?"

"I think he might be."

"Mr. Dunworthy says that's to be expected. He says the sickness seems to last about a week. Robbie should be better by then. Send word to me if he isn't and I'll get a physician to come round."

Helen took her hand. "You've a good heart, Lee. You always seem to be here when we need you. You'll never know how much your friendship has meant to me-to all of us." In a spontaneous moment, Helen leaned over and hugged her.

"You all mean a great deal to me as well."

Annie walked into the room just then. There were only four women now in the house and though it should have made things easier, Mary's presence was sorely missed.