He came forward, his cheeks having turned pink. "I understand that Sean is your stepbrother. I have heard that you doted on him as a child. I also heard he was incarcerated in prison for two years and no one in your family knew if he was dead or alive. How terrible that must have been for all of you!"

Eleanor could not believe that he would be so sympathetic. "My family came to the conclusion that he was dead, but I never really believed it," she whispered.

"I am so happy that he is not dead," Peter declared.

Eleanor had to sit down. She felt faint.

He sat down on an ottoman facing her. "I know the character of the woman you are," he said fiercely. "I know you would do anything to help those you love and hold dear."

Eleanor could only nod. When was he going to accuse her of infidelity, disloyalty, deception? Wasn't he going to demand an explanation for her behavior?

"Your family insists Sean is innocent. I am soon to be a part of this family, too, Eleanor, and I would ally myself with all of you."

She remained stunned by his gracious behavior. She studied him, trying to find an accusation in his eyes. There was none. Did he mean that he still intended to marry her? She would not tell him any more lies. "When Sean appeared, Peter, I was overcome. Until he told me the truth, I had no idea he'd been convicted of treason and sent to prison. When I realized the authorities were searching for him, intending to hang him, I had to go with him. Foolishly, perhaps, I was determined to help him escape the country in any way that I could."

"I understand," he said simply. "But the authorities must never know."

"How can you understand?" she cried, leaping to her feet. "Why don't you hate me? I left you standing at the altar! I jilted you, Peter, or so it appears. And that was not my intention!"

He took her hands. "I understand because I love you," he said.

Eleanor froze. When she could breathe, she said, "How can you love me now?"

"How can I not?" he returned quietly.

She pulled her hands from his and turned away. Peter's anger and accusations would have made her task much easier. She did not know what to do in the face of such loyalty and trust-both of which she did not deserve. She realized she was going to have to tell him the entire truth. "I love Sean," she began slowly.

He instantly stepped around to face her. "Eleanor! I know you love all of your brothers! I know you love Sean. And I have sent my father to London to aid your father in obtaining a complete pardon for him."

For one instant, her mind could not comprehend such generosity. "Lord Henredon is a cousin of the Prime Minister."

"Yes, he is." Peter took her hands again. "My father will do everything in his power to secure Sean's pardon. He is well connected and I am optimistic."

Eleanor had to sit. She gazed up at Peter, trying to understand. "Why are you doing this?"

He didn't quite smile. "You are soon to be my wife. Your troubles are my own. If Sean is your brother, he is my brother, too. When will you realize that I would do anything-anything-for you?"

Tears came to her eyes. "You still wish to marry me after I jilted you at the altar?"

"You left me for a noble cause!" he cried, flushed. He knelt before her, taking her hands again. "You are a woman of honor, Eleanor, and of great loyalty, and I admire that as much as everything else. I trust you. How could I not? And I will do anything to take you to wife."

Eleanor felt her cheeks flame with guilt even as she wondered at his use of words and his fervor. "Peter," she began quietly, still determined to tell him everything, "you should not-"

He leaped to his feet, interrupting her. "When we receive news of Sean's pardon, we will marry immediately, but this time, without such a spectacular fuss."

Her heart slowed, but beat in a peculiar manner, hard and thick. She stared at Peter. She had no doubt now that he loved her, but she wondered if he knew the truth about her love for Sean. There was something so unnaturally fierce in his desire to trust her and believe in her.

"Sean will be pardoned, Eleanor. My father is never thwarted in these matters. I am sure we will hear of his pardon soon, and then we will celebrate our union."

She was still. The room had become still. Peter's message was suddenly resounding. He had sent his powerful father to London to help Edward in his quest for amnesty, and he expected their marriage to proceed after it was obtained. In that moment, she felt trapped and outmaneuvered. But was that his intention?

Was he offering her a trade? Was Peter purposefully bartering her hand in marriage for Sean's liberty and life?

If not, what would he do if she told him that she would not marry him? Would he recall Henredon from his mission?

"Eleanor, I thought you would be pleased with my news," Peter said stiffly.

She stood, managing to smile. She was trapped after all, but then, this was a small price to pay for Sean's freedom. "I am very pleased. Peter, thank you. Thank you for all that you have done on my stepbrother's behalf."

He did smile. "You need not thank me, Eleanor. You need only promise me that, this time, you will not jilt me at the altar."

She thought he was making a jest, yet she also wondered if he meant his words, too. "Of course not," she said. "You need only set a new date, and your bride will be there."

He beamed, and she saw relief in his eyes. "Then let us share the good tidings with your family."

Eleanor nodded. He seemed satisfied and she knew that their unspoken bargain was sealed.

ELEANOR HAD TO KEEP reminding herself that this turn of fate was as fortunate as could be. Sean was going to attain his freedom, and all she had to do in return was marry a nobleman who loved her. They found the countess in the music room, sitting at the piano, her fingers on the keys, but making no effort to play. She looked up, her gaze wan, and managed a tired smile.

"There is hope," Eleanor said softly, leaving Peter's side. She went to her mother and sat down beside her on the upholstered piano bench. "Peter's father is in London, and he is also seeking a pardon for Sean. There is great hope."

The countess put her arm around her. "I am too afraid to hope."

Eleanor bit her lip. Then she glanced at the threshold of the room, where Peter stood. "Peter and I are marrying the moment we receive the pardon."

The countess started and her gaze went to Peter. He smiled at her and bowed. "With your permission, of course, my lady."

Mary turned a confused regard on Eleanor. "Darling?"

Eleanor simply smiled at her, the expression forced. "I wanted to share our news with you, first." She kissed her mother's cool cheek and stood. "I am going back to my rooms to rest."

Mary nodded, apparently speechless.

In the corridor, Eleanor was about to excuse herself from Peter when she heard a ruckus in the front hall. Tyrell's commanding voice sounded-and her heart leaped uncontrollably. Peter took her arm. "In light of the absence of your father, perhaps we should inform your brother as to what we now intend?"

Eleanor barely heard. Was Sean all right? Had Tyrell seen him and spoken with him? And what about Reed? She managed to nod as they hurried through the house and into the front hall.

Tyrell was disappearing into the library by himself as they entered. "Ty!" Eleanor ran after him.

He turned. He had shed his jacket, and his boots and breeches were muddy and wet. Even his ruffled white shirt was spotted with mud and rain. His gaze went from Eleanor to her fiance. "Why aren't you in your rooms, resting?"

Her spirits sank. He was so terribly grim. "I can't rest. I am too excited." She managed a wide smile. "Peter has forgiven me for my very lacking behavior and we will soon wed."

His expression did not change. His gaze held hers and Eleanor knew he suspected everything. "I am pleased," he said carefully. "Peter, I am more than glad to have a celebratory drink with you. Eleanor, why don't you excuse us?"

She dug in her heels. "Ty, there are some matters we must discuss." Her heart threatened the boundary imposed by her rib cage and chest.

His gaze became blank. "Of course. Peter? I'd like a brief moment with my sister."

Peter bowed. "Take as long as you like." He left the room.

Eleanor did not hesitate-she ran to the two oak doors and closed them. Panting, she faced Tyrell. "What happened? How is Sean? Did you see him?" she cried.

"Spoken like a true bride," he said darkly. He turned and poured a large Irish whiskey into a glass.

She ran to face him. "Don't you dare berate me now for the true love in my heart! I am sorry I do not love Peter, truly, I am! Is Sean all right?"

"He is as well as can be expected, I think," Tyrell returned flatly. "What the hell happened to him, Eleanor?"

She understood every aspect of the question. "He was locked up in a small, dark cell, Tyrell, and for two years he did not see, speak or hear anyone. That is, he was very much buried alive. Before that, they tortured him-they flogged him. And before that? I already told you that his wife was deliberately raped and murdered by Reed's men and that his stepson died in a fire set by those soldiers. All to pay for his supposed crimes. He is racked with guilt."

"He is almost unrecognizable," Tyrell said slowly, appearing pained.

Eleanor choked. "You should have seen him a week ago, when he could hardly speak a coherent sentence. You should see the scars on his back-you should have seen his eyes-dark, bleak and hopeless."

Tyrell stared at her. After a pause, he said, "You are doing the right thing by marrying Sinclair."

She fought tears. "I have no choice. I have made the Devil's bargain-to marry a man I do not love in order to free the man I do love."

Tyrell set his now empty glass down and clasped her shoulder. "He has changed, and not for the better. I will always love my stepbrother. But he is not the man for you, Eleanor. He can only bring a woman pain-and I do not think he is capable of the great love you wish for."

Eleanor was afraid Tyrell was right. But she shook her head and her heart spoke for her. "Just before he was captured, Sean began to find himself. He began to smile. He started to speak of the past-and to share his demons with me. I know that if I was given the chance to stay with him, I could help him find his way back to all of us. But I am not being given that chance. I am going to marry Peter and Peter's father is going to obtain that pardon. And Sean is going to be alone with his scars and wounds." She bit off a sob. Who would be there for him now?

"He won't be alone," Tyrell said gruffly. "Devlin and Virginia will succor him. We all will."

No, she thought, unbearably saddened, they would not all succor him-for she would be in Chatton, a loyal and loving wife to another man. She turned away so her brother would not see the depth of her misery.

Tyrell spoke from behind. "This is for the best, Eleanor. I would be afraid for you, if you stayed with the man he has become."

She whirled. "You are wrong! Sean loves me, and he would still give his life to protect me."

"A life with him would be so dark and so bleak that he would hurt you more than anything else. You must trust me now."

She did not tell him that she would give anything to share that dark, bleak life with Sean, even if he did hurt her. "Is he being treated fairly?"

Tyrell nodded. "But it would be best if he were not imprisoned for very long. I do not think he can mentally manage incarceration of any kind now."

She shivered with fear. "I need to see him."

"No."

"I am not asking for your permission. I am telling you that I will go to see him, even if I must do so alone and without escort in the midnight hours of the night!" She glared. "And as I have already suffered unspeakably at Colonel Reed's hands, it is your duty to make certain I safely visit Sean."

"You will jeopardize your future with Sinclair!" Tyrell exclaimed.

"No, I won't. I have lied enough, and I will tell Peter that I must visit Sean."

And Tyrell capitulated. "Fine. I will take you tomorrow after breakfast."

ELEANOR HAD ASKED Tyrell to wait outside for her. As an aide led her to Sean's cell, she was as eager to see him as she was afraid of what she might find. When she approached, she saw that he lay on a pallet on the floor, and for one moment, even though it was midmorning, she thought he was asleep. But it was bright and sunny outside, as if to compensate for the previous day's downpour, and daylight was pouring into the cell. Sean's eyes were open, she realized, and he was staring at the ceiling, his breathing shallow. Eleanor ran to his cell, crying out. "Sean!"

He suddenly looked at her and then lunged to his feet. "Elle," he gasped.

Instantly Eleanor saw cuts on his forehead and face. "Please let me inside," she said to the aide, trying to fight her fear.

"Sorry, no one goes inside," the solider replied.

"He's hurt!" she shouted, fury erupting. "He's ill!"

"He's mad," the soldier said. "Crazy like a loon." He walked away, cell keys jingling, and returned to the anteroom. The door slammed shut behind him.

"He's right," Sean said harshly. "You shouldn't be here."

Eleanor gripped the bars, facing Sean. She understood his panic and hoped to calm him. "Sean, ev erything is going to be all right. Tyrell is outside, and in a day or two, you are going to be released."

His eyes told her he did not believe her. "You shouldn't have come," he said. "Did you see Reed?"

"No, I didn't. Brawley let us in." She reached through the bars to touch his wet cheek with her fingertips. "I have good news."

His gaze remained on hers. "What news could you possibly have?"

She fought to smile. "Peter's father is related to the Prime Minister. He is also in London, seeking your pardon. We are all optimistic, Sean."

Sean stared, his face hard. In that moment, Eleanor knew he understood what she had done.

She tried not to cry. "I have no choice," she whispered. "This is a pact, unspoken but a pact nevertheless. His father is fighting for your pardon and when it comes, we will wed."

"Good," he said harshly. And his breathing became shallow again.

"Don't! Take a deep breath, Sean!" she cried. "I love you so much-I would do anything to see you go free."

He held up his hand. It was shaking. "This is good. This is what I want! You will never wind up...like Peg."

She couldn't stand him blaming himself for her death, not for another moment. "You didn't murder her. You married her-and that is far different. Reed ordered his men to savage her. Reed murdered her."

He struck out blindly, hitting the iron bars. They rang. "It is my fault. When will you understand? If I hadn't married her...she wouldn't have been made to pay for what I did. I was supposed to protect her...I was supposed to love her. I did none of those things!"

"You would have protected her if you had been there that night-I know it, because I know you," Eleanor cried.

He backed away. "I can't even see her face anymore. I don't even remember what she looked like."

In that instant, she felt his burning pain and all of his raging guilt. "Oh, Sean. You have to let her go. If she really loved you, she would not be blaming you for what happened, and I am certain she loved you very much."

Sean just stared, and his tears finally fell. Eleanor didn't know what to do, because she had never seen a man cry like this. So, she waited.

When he spoke, his voice was thick. "She used to look at me with such confusion. She didn't have to ask, but I knew.... She couldn't understand why I didn't love her."

Eleanor didn't know what to say. "She was so fortunate to be your wife. I'm sure she felt that way."