"I did not reveal myself to you at that time," he continued, "because I felt that my first duty must be to my aunt. She has been…" He fought for words that might explain the depth of his devotion for the crotchety old lady, but then he remembered that Elizabeth knew of his past. In fact, she was the only person to whom he'd ever told the entire story of his childhood. Even Blake knew only bits and pieces.

"She has been very important to me over the years," he finally said. "I couldn't-"

"You don't have to explain your love for Lady Danbury," Elizabeth said quietly, not raising her eyes to meet his.

"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "I did not know-I still do not know-the identity of her blackmailer. Furthermore, I have no way of determining whether or not this individual might prove dangerous. I saw no reason to draw you into the matter any further."

Elizabeth looked up suddenly, and the expression in her eyes was heartbreaking. "Surely you know that I would never have done anything to harm Lady Danbury."

"Of course not. Your devotion to her is obvious. But the fact remains that you are not experienced in such matters, and-"

"And I suppose you are?" she asked, her sarcasm evident but not obnoxious.

"Elizabeth, I have spent most of the last decade of my life working for the War Office."

"The gun," she whispered. "The way you attacked Fellport. I knew something was not right."

James swore under his breath. "My altercation with Fellport had nothing to do with my experience in the War Office. For God's sake, Elizabeth, the man had attacked you."

"Yes," she replied, "but you seemed far too familiar with violence. It was too easy for you. The way you drew your gun… You'd had far too much experience with it."

He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. "What I felt in that moment was far from familiar. It was rage, Elizabeth, pure and primitive, and quite unlike anything that's ever before coursed through my veins."

"You've-you've never felt rage before?"

He shook his head slowly. "Not like that. Fellport dared to attack what was mine. He's lucky I let him live."

"I'm not yours," she whispered. But her voice lacked confidence.

"Aren't you?"

From across the room, Caroline sighed.

"James," Elizabeth said. "I can't forgive you. I just can't."

"What the hell can't you forgive me for?" he snapped. “For not telling you I had a bloody title? I thought you said you didn't want a damned marquis."

She pulled back from his anger, whispering, “What do you mean?"

"Don't you remember? It was in this very room. You were holding the book, and-"

"Don't mention that book," she said, her voice low and furious. "Don't you ever mention it."

"Why not?" he taunted, his anger and pain making him mean. "Because you don't want to be reminded of how desperate you'd become? Of how grasping and greedy?''

"James!" Caroline exclaimed. "Stop it."

But he was too hurt, too far gone. "You're no better than me, Elizabeth Hotchkiss. You preach about honesty, but you were going to trap some poor, unsuspecting fool into marriage."

"I was not! I would never have married someone without making sure he knew my situation first. You know that."

"Do I? I don't recall your mentioning such noble principles. In fact, all I recall is your practicing your wiles upon me."

"You asked me to!"

"James Siddons, estate manager, was good enough to be teased," he sneered, "but not good enough to marry. Was that it?"

"I loved James Siddons!" she burst out. And then, horrified by what she'd said, she jumped to her feet and raced for the door.

But James was too quick. He blocked her path, whispering. "You loved me?"

"I loved him," she cried out. "I don't know who you are."

"I am the same man."

"No, you're not. The man I knew was a lie. He wouldn't have taunted a woman the way you did me. And yet-" Her voice broke, and a horrified laugh escaped her lips. "And yet, he did. Didn't he?"

"For God's sake, Elizabeth, what the hell did I do that was so evil and base?''

She stared at him in disbelief. "You don't even know, do you? You disgust me."

The muscles in his throat twitched with rage, and it took every ounce of his restraint not to grab her shoulders and shake her until she saw sense. His anger and pain were so raw, so close to the surface that he feared one tiny show of emotion would unleash the whole, horrifying flood of fury. Finally, exerting a self-control he could barely believe he possessed, he managed to bite off two clipped words: "Explain yourself."

She stood utterly still for a moment, and then, with a stamp of her foot, she stalked across the room and yanked out the copy of HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS that had been resting on the shelf. "Do you remember this?" she yelled, shaking the little red book in the air. “Do you?''

"I believe you asked me not to mention that book in front of the Ravenscrofts."

"It doesn't matter. You've humiliated me so thoroughly in front of them, anyway. I might as well finish off the job."

Caroline laid a comforting hand on Elizabeth's arm. "I think you're quite brave," she said softly. "Please don't think you've been shamed in any way."

"Oh, you don't think so?" Elizabeth lashed out, choking on every word. "Well, then, look at this\" She thrust the book into Caroline's hands.

The book was face-down, so Caroline murmured her incomprehension until she turned it over and read the title. A small cry of alarm escaped her lips.

"What is it, dear?" Blake asked.

Silently, she handed him the book. He regarded it, flipping it over in his hands a few times. Then they both looked up at James.

"I'm not certain what happened," Caroline said carefully, “but my imagination is devising all sorts of disasters."

"He found me with that," Elizabeth said. "I know it's a ridiculous book, but I had to marry and I didn't have anyone to whom to turn for advice. And then he found me with it, and I was afraid he'd mock me. But he didn't." She paused for breath, then hastily wiped away a tear.

"He was so kind. And then he-and then he offered to tutor me. He agreed that I could never hope to marry a marquis-"

"I never said that!" James said hotly. "You said that. Not I."

“He offered to help me interpret the book so that-''

“I offered to burn the book, if you recall. I told you it was utter nonsense." He glared at her, and when that didn't cause her to quake in her shoes, he glared at Blake and Caroline. That also seemed to have no effect, so he turned back to Elizabeth and yelled, "For the love of God, woman, there's only one rule in that bloody book worth following."

"And that is?" Elizabeth asked disdainfully.

"That you marry your damned marquis!"

She was silent for a long moment, her blue eyes holding his, and then, in a movement that sliced his gut in two, she turned away.

“He said he would help me learn how to catch a husband," she said to the Ravenscrofts. "But he never told me who he was. He never told me he was a bloody marquis."

No one made a response, so Elizabeth just let out a bitter breath and said, "And now you know the entire tale. How he poked fun at me and my unfortunate circumstances."

James crossed the room in a heartbeat. "I never laughed at you, Elizabeth," he said, his eyes intent upon her face. "You must believe that. I never intended to hurt you."

"Well, you did," she said.

"Then marry me. Let me spend a lifetime making it up to you."

A fat tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye. "You don't want to marry me."

"I have asked you repeatedly," he said with an impatient exhale. “What more proof do you need?''

"Am I not allowed to have my pride? Or is that an emotion reserved for the elite?''

"Am I such a terrible person?" The question was punctuated by a vaguely bewildered exhale. "So I didn't tell you who I was. I'm sorry. Excuse me for enjoying- no, reveling-in the fact that you fell in love with me, not my title, not my money, not my anything. Just me."

A choking sound emerged from her throat. “It was a test?"

"No!" he practically yelled. "Of course it wasn't a test. I told you, I had very important reasons for concealing my identity. But… but…" He fought for words, having no idea how to express what was in his heart. “But it still felt good. You have no idea, Elizabeth. No idea at all."

"No," she said quietly, "I don't."

"Don't punish me, Elizabeth."

His voice was thick with emotion, and Elizabeth felt that warm baritone all the way down to her soul. She had to get out of here, had to escape before he spun any more lies around her heart.

Yanking her hands away from his, she hurried toward the door. "I have to go," she said, panic rising in her voice. "I can't be with you right now."

"Where are you going?" James asked, slowly following her.

"Home."

His arm came out to prevent her from leaving. "You are not walking home by yourself. It is dark, and the district is full of drunken revelers."

"But-"

"I don't care if you hate me," he said in a voice that brooked no protest. "I will not permit you to leave this room by yourself."

She looked entreatingly at Blake. "Then you can do it. Will you see me home? Please?"

Blake stood, and his eyes met with James's for a brief moment before nodding. "I would be honored."

"Take care of her," James said gruffly.

Blake nodded again. "You know I will." He took Elizabeth's arm and escorted her out of the room.

James watched them go, then leaned against the wall, his body shaking with all the emotion he'd been trying to keep in check all evening. The fury, the pain, the exasperation, even the damned frustration-after all, he had not found his own pleasure in the woods with Elizabeth.