"However it was," Raymore continued gravely, "the fact remains that you were alone for several hours with a man who is not your husband or your betrothed."

"Oh, but nothing happened," she assured them with wide, innocent eyes. "We merely tried to keep each other warm. We were so wet and cold, you see."

"Lady Marsh," Lord Standen said. His expression when she turned to him was wooden. "I deeply regret the fact that this happened when there are so many guests here as witnesses. Nigel has offered to do the honorable thing and marry you. I am forced to agree. I much regret having to do so, and I am sure that it will be painful to you to end our betrothal thus. However, I can assure you that my brother has a steady character and a competent income. He will be able to support you and will make you a good husband."

Sylvia hung her head.

"Well, what do you have to say?" Raymore asked a trifle impatiently.

She looked up at Standen. "I am sorry," she said. "This will cause you great embarrassment, my lord, and you have always been kind to me. I shall do what you consider right."

The tears in her eyes looked genuine enough, Raymore thought. Little minx!

"I should like to make my offer in private, please," Nigel said, his back still to the room.

"Of course," said Lord Standen. "Raymore?"

When the two men had left the room, Nigel turned to face her at last. His face was white and drawn; the tears in her eyes had begun to spill over onto her cheeks. They stood and looked at each other for a few moments, then rushed into each other's arms.

"I did a terrible thing, did I not?" she said a while later. "Is he hurt, do you think, Nigel?"

"Yes, at the moment," he said gently. "But remember, Sylvia, that he does not know that we love each other and really wish to marry. He could still have insisted on marrying you himself without causing any very great scandal. I have the deepest respect for my brother and believe him capable of love. But this time I do not believe his heart has been deeply touched. Honor and reputation mean more to him on this occasion."

"And do you truly wish to marry me?" she asked anxiously.

He looked down at her with a fond smile. "I am supposed to do the asking, remember?" he said.

"Oh," said Sylvia.

"Will you do me the great honor of marrying me, my love?" he asked, putting his forehead against hers.

She fingered the buttons on his jacket. "I shall always love you," she said quietly, "and I shall spend my life making it up to you for not really giving you a choice."

"Does that mean yes?"

"Yes."

He tilted his head and brought his lips down to cover hers. Soon she was being clasped very tightly in his arms. Her own arms were wrapped around his neck.

"It will have to be soon," he said breathlessly much later, "the wedding, I mean. George mentioned tomorrow. "

"Tomorrow!"

"Is it too soon?" he asked anxiously. "Perhaps you want more time to consider?"

"No, Nigel," she said. "I wish it might be today."

He kissed her again.


***

The wedding took place the following morning in the village church. Only the house guests were present. Both Nigel and Sylvia made an effort not to appear too radiant. For the sake of Lord Standen's pride, they had decided the day before, they must make it seem as if the marriage had been forced upon them to a certain extent.

The Earl of Raymore gave his ward away. He watched her closely during the ceremony. She was conducting herself very well, he thought. He had been very much afraid that she would be bubbling with excitement and reveal the truth to all the world. But she was putting on a very good act. She seemed almost subdued, and Broome looked about as solemn as the earl had ever seen him.

Raymore had not credited this particular ward with so much intelligence or courage. It must have been her plan. Broome would never have dreamed up an idea that was in many ways quite shady and dishonorable. Little minx! The earl found himself feeling unexpectedly amused. He should be furiously angry, but he had to admit it was a pleasant surprise to find that Sylvia was not just a milk-and-water miss. He wished them happiness.

When he sat down, his own part in the ceremony complete, Raymore was very aware of Rosalind beside him. Crawleigh was at her other side. He found himself dreaming of saying the words of the ceremony with her. It would be good to be standing there with her, to lead her outside afterward and drive away with her. She would be his. He would take her away, far away from any people they both knew, and show her all the beauties of Europe. She would appreciate all the art treasures that he had gazed at in wonder on his own grand tour as a younger man. It would be such a pleasure to show them to her, to see that look of animation and true delight that he had seen so rarely. It would be good to share jokes with her, like the one they had briefly enjoyed at the dinner table when he had hinted that they might listen unseen to Hans Dehnert practicing for his concert. It would be good to have the right to touch her and love her whenever he wished.

Raymore half-turned to her as the vicar pronounced Nigel and Sylvia man and wife. He could not believe that she did not feel the same vibrations that he felt. Crawleigh was just reaching over to clasp and squeeze her hand. They looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Fool, Raymore thought. What a fool he was! There must be some strange flaw in his character that he always became attached to women whose attentions were directed elsewhere. And Rosalind most of all. She had never even pretended to like, or even respect, him. And it seemed that she loved the man whom she was to marry in a short while. He would not be able to attend that wedding. He could not give her away to another man when he wanted her so much for himself. He would have to think of some excuse when the time came.

Rosalind was also relieved to see Sylvia behave in a proper manner. It would have been very bad ton for her to show the excitement and happiness that she was evidently feeling. Rosalind was very familiar with that tense look about her cousin and the heightened color of her cheeks. It always meant that the girl was bursting with exuberance. But it really would not do for Lord Standen to suspect the truth. It would be even worse if any of the guests did so.

Rosalind felt relatively happy for her cousin. She should be uneasy. Sylvia had fallen in and out of love so many times in the last few years that it should be highly likely that she would regret her marriage within a few months. And Nigel did not have a great deal to recommend him to a romantic young girl. He was not unusually good-looking or elegant or fashionable. He possessed no great charm, no great wealth, no outstanding prospects. He was not at all, in fact, like any of the men with whom Sylvia had fancied herself in love. Perhaps it was this fact that reassured Rosalind. Sylvia had certainly not fallen just for an attractive exterior this time. She really did seem to love the man himself.

The Earl of Raymore sat down beside her, and Rosalind forgot her cousin. She was suddenly uncomfortably conscious of his closeness. How annoying! Why did she not have the same awareness of Bernard, who had sat beside her since they entered the church? She still heard the words of the service, but she heard them with Raymore in mind. What would it be like to be standing there with him? She pictured them, her hand in his, his eyes looking into hers, speaking his vows. It would be suffocating. Rosalind's heart was thumping uncomfortably against her ribs. She had to concentrate to control her breathing. What would it be like afterward to know that she belonged to him, that she forever owed him loyalty and obedience? It was a terrifying thought. But she could not shake from her mind that strange, tender moment when Sylvia was lost and Raymore had gripped her arms reassuringly and kissed her on the forehead.

Rosalind felt a dreadful urge to turn her head and look up at the man who sat so still beside her. There seemed to be such an overpowering magnetism pulling between them. Bernard's hand suddenly covered hers and squeezed it. She looked up into his face with a guilty start and smiled warmly.

After she looked away again, back to Sylvia and Nigel, Crawleigh looked over her head at Raymore, who was also watching the newly married pair. Bernard frowned slightly and returned his attention to the service.

Chapter 14

It felt strange to be back in London without Sylvia. Cousin Hetty was delighted to see Rosalind, and the poodles yapped around her ankles in noisy welcome when she stepped into the hallway of the house on Grosvenor Square. She found herself borne off to the drawing room and plied with tea and all the latest on-dits in equally large quantities. Then it was her turn. Cousin Hetty wished to know every detail of Sylvia's strange courtship and wedding.

"I am so chagrined that it all happened when I was not there," she said, tickling the stomach of a small dog that lay in ecstasy on her lap. "Of course, if I had been there, dear, it would not have happened at all. I always had an eye for those two and would certainly have made sure that they were not allowed to leave a ballroom together. That Lord Standen! The man must be blind as a bat. I cannot say I am sorry, though. He and dear Sylvia did not suit at all. He needs someone to tease away his stuffiness. Your little cousin is too timid. Though, bless her soul, she was not too timid to go after the man she really wanted, was she, dear? I do believe Mr. Broome will be just right for her, do you know? He is quiet and serious enough to make her believe that she has all her own way, but I believe he is a man to rule his own home. She will be happy, won't she, Pootsie?" Cousin Hetty smiled sagely down at the little dog.