Lily nodded and felt enormous relief. The Duke of Portfrey had gone. He would not be in London for a while. But he had left this afternoon? Suddenly? After he had made his attempt on her life, perhaps? Had he assumed success? But she was horrified by the direction of her thoughts. There had been no man. And even if there had been, there was no proof he had been the Duke of Portfrey. It might as easily have been a woman anyway. But if it had been Lauren, then there would be no more stalking or attempts at creating accidents. Lauren would be free to secure Neville's affections again. In all probability there had been no one at all. That fallen rock really had been an accident.

She closed her eyes after Elizabeth had left and rested her head against the back of the chair. She thought about her wedding and her wedding night, about the dream of reunion that had kept her sane during her captivity, about the long, lonely, dangerous trek back to Lisbon and the fruitless search for him there and for someone to believe her story, about the long voyage to England and Newbury, about finding him in the church in the village about to marry someone else, about all the events of the past week and a half.

About last night.

Two tears escaped from beneath her eyelashes and ran unchecked down her cheeks to drip onto her dress.

And about this afternoon's disclosures in the library.

She had not yet fully faced the reality of a shattered dream. She dared not look into the future. It appeared brighter now, or at least more secure, than it had an hour ago, it was true. But it was to be a future lived without him. Without Neville.

There had always been Neville since she was fourteen, even though for four of those years he had been unattainable and for a year and a half he had been unreachable. But always there had been the dream of him. Dream and reality had touched last night—she had been quite aware even at the time that it was a mere touch that could not last. But she had not realized that so soon they would be completely severed. She had not realized that by tonight she would have reached the end of her dream.

Even though she still loved him and always would.

Even though he loved her.

The end of the impossible dream.

Well, she thought, opening her eyes and getting to her feet in order to prepare for bed, she would survive. That had always been the chief purpose in life of the people with whom she had grown up—simply to survive. She would do it. Perhaps somewhere in the future there was another dream waiting to be dreamed. She could not imagine it now, but she could hope.

She could dream about a dream. She smiled at the absurdity—and the sustaining hope—of the thought.

***

Neville did not get drunk. He sat in the library with the Marquess of Attingsborough and toyed with the temptation to seek temporary oblivion while he downed two brandies in quick succession, but he drank no more. Liquor would not cure what ailed him. It would only cloud his mind for what must be faced in the morning.

Lily was leaving him in the morning.

"I wish there were something to say, Nev," the marquess said, setting down his own half-empty glass—his first. "When I was at the church with you nine days ago, I thought there could be no worse disaster than what happened. But there was, damn it. There was this."

"Do you think wringing her neck would help?" Neville chuckled, but the attempt at humor, black as it was, only made him feel worse. He rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes.

"She is a rare one," Joseph said. He chuckled inappropriately. "Who else but Lily would have the deuced nerve to refuse you? Especially when there seems to be nothing else for her. And more especially when she is devilish fond of you."

"Perhaps Elizabeth will persuade her to change her mind," Neville said hopefully. "What will I do if she fails? I promised Lily's father I would look after her. I made her vows. I—Well, all this has little to do with promises and vows. I—You would not understand, Joe."

"Being an inanimate block who has never rumbled into love and dreamed that he has found that one and only love he would never tumble out of again?" his cousin said ruefully. "Your feelings for her are pretty obvious, Nev, and look pretty enduring to me. I have envied you. We have all fallen a little under Lily's spell."

But Elizabeth stepped into the room at that moment, and they both scrambled to their feet. She looked significantly at their glasses but made no comment.

"Well?" Neville's hands had formed into tight fists at his sides.

"Lily will be coming to London with me in the morning, Neville," she said. "She has accepted employment with me. As my companion."

" What? " Neville could only stare at her incredulously.

The marquess cleared his throat and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"It is what she has chosen," Elizabeth said calmly. "It will be a respectable position for her, Neville."

"Did you even try to persuade her to stay and marry me?" he asked her. But her expression gave him his answer without the need of words. All his pent-up anxieties exploded in anger. "You did not, did you? You had no intention of doing so. You deliberately misled me. Do you too want to take her out of the way, Elizabeth, so that the stage will be cleared here for a resumption of things as they were? Nothing can be as it was. Lily is my wife. I love her. Can no one understand that fact just because she is not a lady? She is lady enough for me. She is my lady. I am going to go up there now and—"

"No, Neville," she said quietly before he could take more than one purposeful step in the direction of the door. "No, my dear. It would be the wrong thing to do. Wrong for you. Wrong for Lily."

"And you know what is right for us?" Neville's eyes blazed at her. "You, Elizabeth? The spinster aunt? What do you know of love?"

"Watch it, Nev, old boy," Joseph said quietly.

Neville raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. "I am sorry," he said. "Oh, the devil. Forgive me, Elizabeth. I am so sorry."

"I would be worried," she said, quite unruffled, "if you did not react to all this with passion, Neville. But listen to me, please. This may very well prove to be the best thing that could have happened for both of you. You love her—I do not even need to ask if it is so. But you must admit that your marriage stood every chance of turning into a dismally unhappy one. Perhaps the next time you offer Lily marriage there will be more than just love and obligation to bring you together."

"The next time?" His eyebrows snapped together while the marquess strolled to one of the bookcases and examined the spines of the books on a level with his eyes.

"You were never the man to give up without a fight what you most wanted in life, Neville," she said. "And I seriously doubt there is anything you have wanted more than you want Lily. Are you really planning to give her up so easily?"

He gazed at her for several silent moments. His emotions were still raw. He could still not contemplate the prospect of Lily's leaving him on the morrow. He had not really considered the possibility of getting her back once she had left Newbury Abbey. Either she married him now, he had thought, or he would be forced to live all the rest of his life without her.

"When?"

"That is not for me to say," she told him, shaking her head. "Perhaps never. Certainly not within a month at the soonest."

"One month."

"Not one day sooner," she told him. "But we are to make an early start in the morning. I am going to bed. Good night, Neville. Good night, Joseph."

There was silence in the library after she had left, Neville staring at the door, Joseph continuing to peruse the books on the shelf without picking one up.

"It would be a foolish hope," Neville said eventually. "It would, Joe. Would it not?"

"Oh, devil take it." His cousin sighed audibly. "Who can predict female behavior, Nev? Not I, old chap. But I have always had the highest respect for Elizabeth."

"Promise me something," Neville said.

"Anything, Nev." The marquess turned from the bookcase and looked broodingly across the room at his cousin.

"Keep an eye on her," Neville said. "If she shows signs of being desperately unhappy—"

"The devil, Nev," the marquess said. "If she is unhappy? The point is, old chap, that she is free and that she will continue to make her own choices. But I will call on Elizabeth a few times. And I will ride beside her carriage all the way to London, which will be a considerable trial to my nerves since my father's carriage will be close by too and travel with my mother and Wilma is never a comfortable business. I'll see that Lily gets safe to London, though. My honor on it."

"Thank you."

"And who knows?" Joseph spoke cheerfully and crossed the room again to clap a friendly hand on Neville's shoulder. "Perhaps Elizabeth is right and Lily will see more clearly what she is missing once she is away from you. Elizabeth knows more about the workings of the female mind than I do. Are you going to get foxed or shall we call it a night and turn in?"

"I don't think I could get drunk if I tried, Joe," Neville told him. "But thanks for the thought."

"What are friends for?" the marquess asked him.

***

Neville went to bed buoyed with some faint hope. He even slept in snatches. But in the morning he could hear only the echo of Elizabeth's words perhaps never, and the sound of them drowned out hope.

They were all leaving together—Aunt Sadie and Uncle Webster with Wilma, Joe on horseback, Elizabeth with Lily. The terrace was crowded with people saying and hugging their farewells—even Gwen and Lauren had come up from the dower house for the purpose. Lily had her share of hugs, Neville noticed as he took his leave of everyone else; neither Lauren nor Gwen was dry-eyed after saying good-bye to her. She was wearing the pretty blue carriage dress that had recently been made for her—he had been very much afraid that she would refuse to take any of her new clothes.