"But I saw you calling at her house late myself." And kissing her, as Rafe recalled with painful clarity.

Robin shrugged. "Professionally we have continued to be partners, and friends as well."

"Then why…?" Rafe stopped, aware of how shockingly intimate was the question he had almost asked.

Unfazed, Robin said, "Why are we no longer lovers? Because Maggie no longer felt right about it. She wouldn't marry me in the beginning because she wasn't in love with me. Many things changed over the years, but not that."

"Didn't you mind when Margot no longer…?"

Robin's face shuttered. "Oh, I minded, but if you understand anything at all about Maggie, you will know that one does not compel her. Except for sharing a bed, our friendship stayed the same, which was what mattered most-though one can always find women for physical relationships, there is only one Maggie. Until this last year, when she took on the role of Countess Janos, we continued living together when I wasn't out risking my neck. It wasn't until I joined the British delegation that we pretended to be mere acquaintances."

Needing desperately to make sense of what he was hearing, Rafe said, "Surely you think there is some chance that she will marry you, or you wouldn't be planning on offering again."

After a slight hesitation, Robin said coolly, "Once I was rather optimistic. Maggie intended to go back to England for a quiet life in some genteel place like Bath. I thought I would wait about three months, then show up and offer again. By then, she would have been ready to accept from sheer boredom." He looked down and made a minute adjustment to the bandage on his wrist. "It could have worked very well. I'm rich, she's beautiful, and we are the best of friends. Most marriages have much less. But the situation has changed, and I no longer think that she would accept an offer from me."

It was time for the ultimate question in this extraordinary conversation. Rafe asked, "Are you in love with her?"

Silhouetted against the bright window, Robin's lean body was very still. "In love? I don't really know what that means. Perhaps I lack the temperament for grand passions. Certainly I am not in love as Maggie would define it." He stopped, then said in a voice meant more for himself than Rafe, "I would go through fire for her, but that's not quite the same thing."

Feeling as if he were being torn in half, Rafe crossed the room and stood close enough to see the other man's face. Quietly he asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think Maggie is in love with you. I knew she had loved someone before we met, and I have seen how she has been since you came to Paris." Robin's tone became sardonic. "While there's no guarantee that she would be willing to overlook the past and marry you, from the way you've been acting, I assume that you would at least like to make the offer."

Rafe's aching confusion began to disappear, washed away by an almost unbearable hope. "I was on the verge of going back to England without seeing her again."

"I know. That is why I spoke."

After a shaken pause, Rafe said, "You're a generous man."

"I want Maggie to be happy." Robin's expression changed as he allowed the underlying steel to show through. "But if you marry her and make her miserable, you'll answer to me."

"I'll have to answer to myself first, and I guarantee that I will be harsher even than you would be." Rafe drew an unsteady breath. "It's shockingly inadequate, but-thank you."After scooping up the jewelry box, he left at a near run.

Robin held aside the sheer drapery and watched the duke emerge from the house, leap into his curricle and set off for Chanteuil at a reckless pace.

He dropped the drapery and turned away, his mouth tight. He was indeed a very generous man.

He was also a damned fool.

Chapter 27

Though ordinarily Maggie would not have wanted to return to Chanteuil, going for Rex provided a convenient excuse to be out of the house if Rafe called to see how she and Robin were faring. The day was as sunny and warm as high summer, which made the drive enjoyable.

When she reached the castle, the Prussian guards at the gatehouse told her that all of Varenne's servants had fled, leaving the estate empty. The sergeant in charge recognized her from the day before, so he was easily persuaded to allow her in when she explained that she had come for a cat, and perhaps to view the gardens.

It didn't take long to achieve her first objective; whoever said that cats were aloof had obviously never met Rex. Within five minutes of entering the castle and starting to call his name, he trotted out to greet her, ready for food and adoration.

Being no fool, Maggie had brought some sliced chicken with her. After Rex dined, he was quite happy to sleep off his meal while draped over her shoulder.

The lush, overgrown gardens were very lovely, the flowers bright with the flamboyant splendor of the last days before frost. She sensed no lingering trace of Varenne's evil, and for that she was grateful.

When Rex began to feel heavy, Maggie decided to sit and enjoy the sunshine. In a small rose garden completely surrounded by high hedges, she found a stone bench under a blossom-covered arbor. She sank down on it, grateful for the shade. The scene was extraordinarily peaceful, the silence broken only by the fluting of birdsongs and the gentle splashing of a small fountain in the center of the garden.

Rex slept with his head on her lap, the rest of him sprawled along the bench, one back paw in the air. The cat would be a fine tutor as she learned to live a normal, quiet life, for he had a truly remarkable talent for relaxation.

The tranquility soothed her strained nerves. Though the last weeks had been harrowing, the experience had been worthwhile, for she and Rafe had made a kind of peace. She also had an unforgettable night to cherish for the rest of her life.

Her musings were interrupted by the crunching of footsteps on gravel. She looked up to see Rafe walking swiftly along the path. Seeing her, he paused, then proceeded toward her at a slower pace, his expression reserved. Though his hair was uncharacteristically windblown, he was dressed with his usual damn-your-eyes elegance, and was so handsome that she realized she was forgetting to breathe.

Though this meeting would mean another night of tears, she couldn't help but respond to his presence. "Good afternoon, your grace," she said with a carefully casual smile. "What brings you to Chanteuil?"

"You. May I sit down?" At her nod, he settled on the other side of Rex. "It's rather eerie. Apart from the Prussian guards at the gatehouse who said you might be in the garden, the place seems deserted."

"Not so much as a cook or a scullery maid left," she agreed. "It's fortunate that I came for Rex. Perhaps he could have survived on castle mice, but he would have been lonesome. He's a sociable creature."

Instead of answering, Rafe studied her face, his expression intent. There was something subtly different about him this morning. Perhaps it was only imagination, but to her eyes he looked less like a duke and more like the young man she had fallen in love with.

Before the silence could become too uncomfortable, he said, "One reason I came out here was to offer you an apology. Northwood was the one who claimed that you had lain with him. Looking back, it's hard to understand how I was fool enough to believe him."

She would much rather discuss weather or the gardens, but there were some things that should probably be said, since they were unlikely to meet again. "I learned that it was Northwood yesterday, when he boasted of what he had done. It was clever of him to pretend drunkenness-it's easier to believe a whisper than a shout."

Rafe grimaced. "Lord knows that I have been punished for my unreasonable jealousy. I'm profoundly sorry, Margot. Not trusting you was the worst mistake of my life."

He hesitated, as if seeking the right words, then said haltingly, "My parents had a fashionable marriage. After they did their duty and produced me, they were seldom under the same roof, much less in the same bed. I wanted a different kind of marriage. When I met you, I thought I had found what I was looking for. Yet I don't think I truly believed that it was possible for me to attain such happiness, which may be why I was susceptible to Northwood's slander."

"I don't remember you ever talking about your parents before," she said quietly.

He shrugged. "There was very little to say. My mother died when I was ten-her demise made so little difference in my life that I scarcely noticed she was gone. My father believed in Lord Chesterfield's maxim that there was nothing so vulgar as audible laughter. He was quite punctilious about his responsibilities to his heir, just as he was conscientious about caring for his tenants and taking his seat in the Lords. A true English gentleman." Rafe glanced down and began stroking the cat's, silky belly. "Having Colonel Ashton for a father-in-law was a… refreshing prospect."

His uninflected words made Maggie's heart ache. At eighteen, it had not occurred to her that tall, confident Rafe had not only desired her, but needed her. She wondered why he revealed that. Not for sympathy, she was sure.

Deciding to ask a question that had often occurred to her, usually late in a lonely night, she said, "If I had denied Northwood's charge, would you have believed me?"

"I think so. I wanted-rather desperately-for you to throw my words back in my face." He stopped, men added painfully, "The fact that you made no attempt to deny it seemed like proof of your infidelity."