But, he asked himself, did he want to love her? Was he ready to make the total commitment? He could not answer his own question with any satisfaction.

But he did know one thing: he was annoyed and-yes!-jealous of the friendship between his wife and Devin Northcott. He could not and did not suspect either of them of improper feelings for the other, but he resented the fact that they seemed to find it easy to converse with each other and to smile and laugh together.

Now he was concerned about his wife. She was not quite well, and he feared that this infernal fair would tax her strength beyond its limits. He found himself hoping, for the first time since his marriage, that he would not get her with child too soon. He feared that her tiny frame would make childbearing difficult for her.


The weather had turned cold and showery four days before the fair, so that everyone feared that the day was going to be ruined. However, the final preparations were put into effect the day before. Numerous booths were erected by the male servants and tenants on the lawns and in the closest meadow to the house. The women were busy at home baking or putting final stitches to the entries for the competitions next day. The wooden dancing floor was laid in place and stands erected for the orchestra. In the stables the grooms were giving unaccustomed attention to the two ponies to be used for the children's rides-brushing their coats and laying out ribbons to twine in their manes the next morning.

In the house the cook was threatening every half-hour to hand in her notice as she rushed through the endless lists of foods to be prepared and cooked. Yet during the afternoon, when the earl's chef arrived from London to help with the preparations, the threats continued for a different reason. Did his lordship think she was incapable of handling such an event on her own, without calling in "that man" who gave himself airs just because he was from the city?

Upstairs, the servants were busy, dusting, polishing, and rearranging for those guests who would be using the house. The house guests helped out where they could.

Much to everyone's delight and relief, the day itself dawned bright and cloudless. It promised to be a scorching day. Soon after noon, the earl's tenants began to gather below the house, all dressed in their Sunday clothes, all in holiday mood. One refreshment stand was already loaded with a tempting array of fruit drinks, tarts, cakes, and fudges; another with cold meat, fish pies, pasties, and other savory delicacies. The empty booths were soon covered with the exhibits of baking and needlecrafts that the women had entered for competition.

Soon the area before the house was bright with the colors of everyone's holiday clothes, loud with the talk and laughter of the adults, the cries and shrieks of the children. The house guests mingled gaily, watching the races and competitions, admiring the delicate needlework and the delicious-looking baked products on display.

Charlotte and Charles had assumed charge of the children's games. They had an audience of several fond parents, and-inexplicably-Devin Northcott. Nobody had ever suspected that he was fond of children He looked as if he had just stepped off Bond Street, with his coat of blue superfine, his biscuit-colored pantaloons, and gleaming Hessians; and he looked bored; but he was there, watching the little tykes run and jump and laugh and scream.

Charles had worked himself into a mood of high-spirited mischief. A three-legged race was next on the agenda, he noticed. He called together all the children and Charlotte divided them into pairs, roughly according to size. Charles began to explain to them how to run the race and how to work together with one's partner in order not to trip one another. He made the explanation deliberately vague and confused.

"Look, kiddies," he said finally while they all gazed worshipfully at his tall, handsome form, "you have to see this done to know how to do it. I could show you with Miss Wells here, but I am too tall-or she is too short, whichever way you want to look at it. Now, let me see…" He rubbed his chin reflectively with his hand and let his eyes rove shrewdly over the small crowd of adults. "Ah, yes, of course," he said, grinning, and apparently struck with an inspiration, "Mr. Northcott is just the man we need."

"Charles!" Charlotte hissed, feeling a distinct premonition of disaster. "What-"

"Mr. Northcott," Charles continued smoothly, completely ignoring his companion, "would you oblige us by demonstrating the three-legged race with Miss Wells here?"

"Charles!"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Northcott," chorused several children's voices, and they all began clapping and cheering.

"Nasty little devils," reflected Devin without moving a facial muscle.

"Charles, are you mad?" Charlotte flared in a furious whisper. "It would not be at all proper."

"The lady is concerned with the proprieties," yelled Charles to the most cooperative part of his audience. "Do we want to see Miss Wells and Mr. Northcott demonstrate this race, kiddies?"

"Yes!" they all shrieked, right on cue.

Over their heads, Charlotte, her face hot and dismayed, met the cool, amused eyes of Devin. He had the unspeakable effrontery to wink!

"Very well," said Charlotte with angry defiance. "Mr. Northcott?"

He strolled forward. "Miss Wells, d'ye mind if I take off my coat?" he asked, all London politeness again.

"Not at all, sir," she replied crossly. "Please do not mind me."

And then her breath caught in her throat as he stripped off the coat and stood in his crisp white shirt. He was not a tall man, but he had a very masculine physique, she thought, before he turned his back to her. She admired his broad shoulders and the body that tapered to narrow waist and hips. She did not hear what Devin said to Charles as he handed over his coat.

"You've embarrassed the lady, Adair," he said coldly, one eyebrow raised disdainfully. "Bad ton, d'ye know?"

One difficulty was discovered as soon as Charlotte and Devin stood side by side and Charles approached them to tie a scarf around their legs. The scarf would have to be tied around their ankles as it was quite unthinkable for anyone to reach higher up Charlotte's leg than that.

Charlotte thought that she had never been so embarrassed as she felt when the scarf pulled her leg firmly against the hard surface of Devin's Hessian. But when Charles stepped back, she realized there was far worse to come.

"Used to do this all th' time with m' brothers and sisters," Devin explained, hoping to relax her by being matter-of-fact about the whole thing. "We have a better chance of not falling if we hold on to one another. Put your arm around m' waist." He put his own arm around her shoulders and gripped her upper arm.

Charlotte, utterly mortified, placed her arm around his waist and clung to a fistful of shirt, fearful that her hand might slip lower if she did not grip on to something.

"Now watch, kiddies," Charles' voice was cheerfully saying. "They are going to run to the white post and back again. Watch and see how easy it is."

"I'll count 'one, two," Devin was explaining to Charlotte. "Move the bound leg first. Ready?"

"I suppose so."

"Right. Here we go, then. 'One, two; one, two.' "

To the ecstatic cheering of the children, they moved down the meadow to the white post. Charlotte was shrinkingly aware of the heat and movement of Devin's body against her own. She had never encountered anything like such close proximity to a man before. She was terrified that she was about to be utterly missish and faint.

"Careful on the turn," Devin warned as they approached the white post.

Charlotte had a fleeting glimpse of jumping, cheering children as they rounded the post, and then she lost her stride. Devin pulled her toward him in an effort to recover their balance, and then toppled sideways-taking her with him, of course. She was conscious of sprawling over his hip; her head came to rest across his neck, her mouth against the bare skin of his throat above his neckcloth. She pushed in panic against his chest, but without much effect; her body was angled downward.

Devin quickly and firmly lifted her off his body and set her down on the grass beside him. He propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her.

"Are you hurt, Miss Wells?" he asked in concern.

"N-no, sir," she stammered, and swallowed nervously.

They both reached for something else to say and found nothing. They gaped foolishly, both suddenly aware of electricity in the air between them. Devin lifted his hand and opened his mouth. The hand seemed destined to find its way to her cheek; his mouth was about to utter heaven knows what sentiment. Neither achieved its goal.

"I never saw anything so funny since Colonel Brody's horse tossed him into a mud puddle just as he was lecturing our regiment on careless horsemanship," said Charles' voice before he broke off to roar with laughter. "The little kiddies are cracking up back there. You have made their day."

He knelt beside the hapless pair and untied the scarf that still bound them together at the ankle. Devin got to his feet and brushed himself off hastily. As he turned to help Charlotte up, he realized that he had been forestalled.

"Come on, Charlotte, my love," Charles said, still grinning, and grasping both her hands with his, he pulled her to her feet and straight into his arms.

"Poor little love," he said cheerfully, "are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you, Charles," she replied weakly into his shirt front. Devin stalked off at that point in the direction of his abandoned coat and the still-mirthful little devils, so did not hear the rest of her words. "But please remind me to give you a gentle push next time we are close to a duck pond, will you? You horrid man. How could you!"