Sadness lingered in his eyes, but his lips curved upward in a lopsided grin. He then wrapped her in an awkward, bony hug and their spectacles smacked into each other. Laughing, they separated.

"Nice show, Sammie," he said, adjusting his glasses. "You're the most beautiful countess I've ever seen."

Swallowing her melancholy, she laughed at him. "I am the only countess you've ever seen."

"Well, I've seen a great many countesses"-interjected Eric-"and I must agree with Hubert. Beautiful." Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips, his dark eyes sending her a message that shot heat down to her toes.

Hubert moved on, and what seemed like an endless stream of well-wishers followed. Finally Margaret stood before her, extending both her hands. "We're officially sisters now," she said, tears shimmering in her eyes. "And you're officially a countess."

Sammie squeezed her hands and smiled to hide her sorrow that she would not have the opportunity to get to know Margaret better. "Indeed we are sisters. And good heavens, I am a countess-a prospect I find a bit… daunting."

Margaret shifted a quick glance at her brother, then offered Sammie a genuine smile. "Not to worry. You have already mastered a countess's most important task. You've made the earl very, very happy."

Sammie felt Eric's warm hand at her back. "Indeed she has," he said.

She watched Eric hug his sister, her heart tugging when his eyes squeezed shut to savor what would be their last embrace. She turned to the next person waiting to extend best wishes.

Adam Straton stood before her. Another man she did not recognize stood next to Mr. Straton. She judged Mr. Straton's companion to be in his mid-thirties, well-built, with dark blond hair, and a tight-lipped, serious air. Both men appeared tense, with no signs of well-wishes in their gazes. Their attention was riveted on Eric, who was smiling down at his sister.

Sammie's heart started drumming in slow, hard thumps, dread spreading through her with each beat, while her stomach seemed to fall like a dead weight to her feet. Forcing what she hoped passed for a cordial smile, she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, Mr. Straton spoke to Eric.

"Would you mind stepping inside with me for a moment, Lord Wesley? My man Farnsworth here and I need to speak to you. Privately."

Eric and the magistrate exchanged a long look, then Eric nodded slowly. "Of course." He slid his arm around Sammie's waist and gave her what she guessed was supposed to be an encouraging squeeze. Leaning down, he brushed a kiss across her cheek. "Don't ever forget," he whispered in her ear, "how much I love you." He released her, and she bit her lips together to contain the agonized No! threatening to spill from her throat.

Fingers of ice-cold fear clutched her, freezing her as the trio of men entered the shadowy church interior and disappeared from her view.

"I wonder what that is all about," Margaret murmured.

Sammie's stomach heaved with panic.

She suspected she knew.


With his heart pounding at thrice its normal speed, Eric stood in the vicar's office and regarded Straton and Farnsworth with studied detachment. After several seconds of silence, Eric crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows. "What did you wish to discuss with me?" he asked, injecting a bit of impatience into his voice.

Straton slowly pulled a piece of black material from his pocket and handed it to Eric. The familiar smooth silk felt cool against his palm, in complete contrast to the heated sense of dread thumping through him. Keeping his expression carefully blank, he asked, "What is this?"

Farnsworth cleared his throat, drawing his attention. "It is the Bride Thief's mask. I found it hidden in the desk in your bedchamber, my lord."

The words reverberated in his mind, and he clamped his jaw to contain the anguished roar threatening to erupt. Not now! Not when he'd just been handed happiness on a golden platter. Not when he and Samantha were so close to escaping.

Not when he had so much to live for.

He shifted his gaze to Straton, expecting to meet a hard-edged stare. Instead, the magistrate was looking out the window with an expression that Eric could only describe as troubled. Following his gaze, Eric realized Straton's attention was riveted on Margaret, who stood alone, a short distance away, in the shade beneath a huge oak tree.

With his hands clenched, one fist crumpling the soft silk, Eric stood still as a statue, every muscle tense as he waited to be arrested. There was no refuting the evidence in his hand, and he even had to give Straton and Farnsworth his grudging respect for their cleverness.

His thoughts switched to Samantha and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Damn it, she was no doubt frantic. Regret weighed upon him for what she would face in the wake of his arrest and hanging. Regret that he would never have the chance to be her husband. To laugh and love with her. At least he'd secured her financial future. The Countess of Wesley was an extremely wealthy woman. He prayed she would depart England. Leave the scandal behind and start a new life.

His attention focused once again on the magistrate. Straton continued to stare out the window. His face appeared pale, and his hands were fisted at his sides in a white-knuckled grip. Nearly a full minute of deafening silence passed.

Finally Straton turned to his subordinate. "Excellent work, Farnsworth," he said. "You passed the test in an extremely admirable fashion."

Eric felt the same puzzlement that blanketed Farnsworth's face.

"Test, sir?" Farnsworth asked, scratching his head.

"Yes. I've had my eye on you for quite some time now for a promotion, but it was necessary for me to test your skills, as I'm sure you understand."

"Er, actually, no-"

"Lord Wesley, who has shown great generosity in offering his assistance during this investigation, was kind enough to lend me the use of his home."

Straton clasped his hands behind his back and continued, "As per my instructions, the earl hid this mask, which is a replica of the Bride Thief's I fashioned based on descriptions from witnesses, at Wesley Manor. I knew if your deductive skills were honed enough to locate the mask, Farnsworth, you deserved the promotion." He turned to Eric. "A secret panel under your desk, my lord? Fiendishly clever hiding spot. I thank you for your help."

Shock rippled through Eric. Only a lifetime of keeping his emotions in check kept him from showing the same slack-jawed reaction as Farnsworth. Surely his hearing was afflicted. What the hell was Straton talking about?

Turning back to Farnsworth, Adam extended his hand. "Congratulations, Farnsworth. Your promotion entails you heading up a new case concerning suspected smugglers. I'll brief you on your assignment tomorrow morning."

His face now wreathed in a smiling combination of flushed pride and bemusement, Farnsworth shook his boss's hand. "Thank you, sir! I'm quite overwhelmed." His smile faded. "Of course the bad news is that we still haven't apprehended the Bride Thief." He turned a sheepish look on Eric. "I thought we had our man with you, Lord Wesley. My apologies."

Not trusting his voice, Eric merely inclined his head in reply.

"Yes, unfortunately the Bride Thief is still at large," Straton said. He turned to Eric and pinned him with a dead-serious stare. "However, I vow that I will not tolerate any further kidnappings. If the Bride Thief should make the mistake of striking again, I shall see that he hangs."

The unbelievable truth slowly worked its way through Eric's confusion.

He'd been set free.

While there was no mistaking the magistrate's warning regarding further kidnappings, there was also no denying the fact that Straton had saved his life.

Farnsworth laid a comforting hand on Straton's shoulder. "That's the spirit, sir. You'll capture the Bride Thief when he shows himself again."

Straton and Eric shared a long look. Then the magistrate said, "We won't keep you any further, your lordship. Our best wishes to you and your wife."

Eric somehow managed to find his voice. "Thank you."

Farnsworth opened the door, then stepped from the office. As the magistrate made to follow, Eric said, "I'd like a word with you, Straton."

The magistrate paused in the doorway, then turned back into the room, closing the door.

Eric looked at the man who had saved him from the gallows and said just one word. "Why?"

Straton leaned against the door, and Eric noticed his gaze again drift toward the window, outside of which Margaret stood beneath the majestic oak. Looking at Eric once more, he said, "I had a very illuminating conversation with your sister today."

Eric's muscles instantly tensed. "Margaret knows nothing about any of this."

"Yes, I know. But now I understand why you did… what you did. You couldn't save her, so you saved others." He crossed his arms over his chest, and heat flared in his eyes. "She told me if she'd been offered the chance to escape from her marriage-the sort of freedom offered by the Bride Thief-she'd have embraced the opportunity. She'd have been spared those years of misery."

"And if you think that doesn't eat at me every day, you're sadly mistaken."

"And now that I know she suffered at his hands… that will eat at me every day." Straton's hands fisted at his sides, and his lips compressed into a flat line. "Until this morning, I thought that marriage to a nobleman was the best damn thing that could happen to a woman. And if that marriage was arranged, well, the woman's father was only doing what was best for her." A bitter laugh escaped him. "It wasn't best for Lady Darvin. Now I understand. Now I see that a woman should not be forced to wed against her will. Forced to spend her life with a man she loathes. A man who might abuse her. I couldn't see you hang for saving other women from such a fate. Indeed, I applaud your restraint for not murdering that bastard Darvin. I cannot say I would have shown similar self-control."