"I think what you are really asking is if I would choose you over her." He tightened his clasp. "The answer is yes. Even if Maggie were wrongheaded enough to try to interfere, she would fail. You are the only one with the power to divide us."

Maxie's eyes closed and a spasm of emotion crossed her face. Unable to keep his distance any longer, Robin stepped forward and enfolded her in his arms.

Unresisting, she buried her face against his shoulder as if exhausted. No matter what their verbal conflicts, on the level of physical touch there was always harmony between them. He held her close, hoping that the embrace was soothing her as much as it was helping him.

Because of Maxie's forceful character, he tended to forget how small she was. He felt a surge of protective tenderness; her head barely reached his chin, and he was not a tall man. "Your head is heart high." With one hand he pulled the pins from her hair so that it fell down her back in a shimmering ebony mantle. "I'm a complete idiot, Kanawiosta. When we were traveling together, I wanted to block out the past and the future, because for the first time in years I was happy."

He caressed her taut spine, sliding his fingers through her silky tresses. "I knew that sooner or later I must explain myself, but I was a lazy coward and preferred to delay as long as possible. I didn't consider how unfair I was being to you. You seemed like the earth-wise, nurturing, infinitely strong. I overlooked the fact that you have scars and fears of your own."

Head still bent, she asked, "What other surprises have you in store for me?"

He thought a moment. "Well, I'm fairly affluent. Among other things, I'm the owner of Ruxton."

That caused her to look up, a flash of exasperated amusement in her eyes. "You mean you were stealing your own horses?" When he nodded, she said, "To think of the anxiety I felt!"

"I said you needn't worry."

"The duchess is right." Her voice was severe, but her lips twitched with suppressed humor. "You are a wretch."

"Guilty." He sighed, no longer amused. "That's why it seemed such a good idea to be someone else."

Maxie looked directly at him, her expression grave. "We must talk more about that, but not, I think, tonight."

"Good-I wouldn't be up to it right now. Any more than you are probably up to deciding whether or not to marry me." The words were said lightly, but he held his breath, needing to know if the events of the evening had angered her so much that marriage was out of the question.

She shook her head, her face troubled. "I don't know, Robin. We are even further apart than I thought." Raising her hands, she fidgeted with his shabby lapels. "I don't know whether I can fit into your English world, or if I even want to try."

"We are closer than you realize, and this English world is not the only possibility." He brushed a kiss on her hair. "But now is not the time for talking about that, either. The important thing is that you are not saying no." He smiled a little. "Thank you for not hitting me with that china figurine. Perhaps you should have. I was being incredibly obtuse."

"I wanted to make a point, not damage you, but I should have held on to my temper." She winced. "I hope that statuette wasn't a cherished family heirloom." Her gaze went to his wilted shirt. "If I call you Lord Robert when I'm exasperated, what does it mean when you call me Kanawiosta?"

He said slowly, "I suppose it means that I am speaking from the heart, and hope you will listen the same way."

"That's not a bad reason." After a long silence, she glanced up with a trace of mischief. "If I married you, would I have a title? And if so, what would it be?"

"You would be called Lady Robert Andreville. Lady Robert for short, of perhaps Lady Robin."

Her eyes widened. "Seriously? That isn't another one of your jests?"

"God's own truth."

Maxie threw her head back and laughed. "What an absurd system! No wonder the American founding fathers discarded it."

The door opened and the Duchess of Candover entered. Seeing her guests in each other's arms, she began a hasty retreat. "Sorry. I guess you didn't hear my knock."

"No need to run off." Robin released Maxie without haste. "We've negotiated a truce."

Too wise to comment, the duchess said, "Rafe just sent a message that he will be leaving Westminster earlier than he had expected. Would you two care to join us for dinner in an hour or so? I would love to have you, but if you're too tired, you may prefer trays in your rooms."

After glancing at Robin, Maxie said, "I accept with pleasure, your grace, though I warn you, I have only one dress with me, and it will be considerably the worse for travel."

"My maid can brush and press it for you." The duchess's gaze fell on the fragments of broken china, and her face lit up. "How splendid! You broke that ghastly replica of the Laocoon."

Maxie's face flamed. "I'm sorry. It was entirely my fault. I will replace it as soon as I can."

"Don't you dare!" The duchess smiled impishly. "It was a wedding present from one of the Whitbourne cousins who disapproved of Rafe marrying me. Three people being eaten by snakes is hardly an amiable gift, don't you agree? I've been leaving it on the edge of the table, hoping one of the maids would accidentally knock it off, but with no success."

Maxie chuckled. It took a real lady to make a guilty guest believe she was doing her hostess a favor. "If you have anything else you wish broken, I shall be happy to oblige."

"Done!" The duchess turned. "Shall I take you to your room now? There is time for a bath or a nap if you wish."

Expression set, Maxie followed the duchess upstairs. It had been hard enough to imagine that she and Robin could resolve the personal issues that separated them. Now she had been plunged into an alien world where few would welcome her. The sooner she learned whether she could live in it, the better.

Chapter 27

After Maxie emerged from a luxurious bath, the duchess sent her own French maid to assist. The welltrained maid, Lavalle, did not betray disapproval of such an irregular guest by so much as a single twitch, though there was a pained expression on her face as she handed over the newly pressed gown. However, Maxie's fluent, if Canadian accented, French soon won Lavalle over.

Maxie donned her plain white muslin gown, then sat patiently while the maid twisted her dark hair into an elegant chignon. The result was presentable. Nonetheless, Maxie took a nervous glance at the mirror when a footman came to summon her. Then, head high, she followed him downstairs to the small salon.

Robin and the duchess were talking casually, their golden heads close together. His clothing had also been refurbished in the last hour, and a fresh shirt and cravat had been conjured up from somewhere, probably the duke's own wardrobe. He looked so perfectly at ease that Maxie's qualms returned. He might belong in a duke's house, but what the devil was she doing here?

Robin glanced up and stared, his azure eyes glowing. As he rose and came forward, he said softly, "You look absolutely delectable."

Maxie colored, but his admiring gaze warmed her right down to her toes. "It's good of you to say so, but this dress would not be fashionable even in Boston, much less London."

"Believe me, men are much less interested in fashion than in the total effect, which in your case is ravishing." He took her arm and guided her to a seat between himself and the duchess. "Mind you, I may be prejudiced because that is the first real dress I've seen you wear."

Robin's appreciation and nonsense relaxed her to the point where she could join the conversation without selfconsciousness. The duchess was wearing a dress as simple as Maxie's own, another example of the other woman's exquisite tact. Robin had also given warning of Maxie's drinking habits, because she was offered lemonade, even though her two companions were drinking sherry.

The duchess was frowning at the mantel clock when the door opened. Maxie knew instantly that it was the Duke of Candover who entered. While Robin was a chameleon, capable of playing a thousand roles, the duke was unmistakably an aristocrat, incapable of ever being anything else. He was also quite staggeringly handsome, a fit mate for the glorious Maggie.

"Sorry to be late, my dear," the newcomer said, "but Castlereagh waylaid me just as I was leaving." Seeing the visitors, he paused, a broad smile spreading across his face. "Robin, you rogue. What brings you to London?"

The two men shook hands warmly. Then Robin introduced the duke to Maxie. As Candover bowed over Maxie's hand, she saw that his hair and complexion were as dark as her own, but his eyes were a cool northern gray, with humor and friendly speculation lurking in the depths.

"Collins," the duke said as he straightened. "Are you related to the Collins of Chanleigh?"

"The present Lord Collingwood is my uncle, your grace."

"Then we're some sort of cousins, the second or third degree." Candover gave her a smile that for pure, paralyzing impact almost equaled Robin's. "It's always a pleasure to meet a new cousin, especially an attractive one." Offering his arm, he added, "Since I'm unfashionably famished, perhaps we can go right into dinner. I'm a great deal more amiable when I've been fed."

She smiled and accepted his arm, thinking that on the contrary, the duke could hardly have been more congenial. Perhaps Robin had been right to bring them here.

As the duchess had promised, it was a simple family dinner by British standards, though there was ample food, all of it superbly cooked. Maxie was grateful not to have to deal with the endless courses considered essential at Chanleigh. She had feared there might be some beastly London dining customs that would show her for an ignorant provincial, but her concern was unfounded. She had seen more forks and spoons in Boston.