"I'd like some coffee."

It arrived so soon after Constance had summoned the maid that he concluded her well-trained staff had anticipated the request. He drank most of one cup before he began his story, and then he told her everything. Even after so long a time, the pain was still real and Simon's face was as pale as Constance's when he finally finished.

"I'm glad you told me," she said. "It's not a pretty story."

"Now you see that my son has much to forgive."

"Yes, he does. But I think I am not entirely wrong when I say you are no longer the same man."

"You're dealing with me too kindly, Connie. Especially in view of what I've done to Noelle."

"You're a businessman. You can't deny your own nature, Simon. You must, however, learn to temper it."

"It's not an easy lesson. I'm too accustomed to taking what I want without regard for the wishes of others." There was no mistaking his meaning, and the afternoon in Sussex was once more before them.

"That's why I really came to see you, Connie. I could no longer let that day stand between us. My behavior was inexcusable."

This was not at all what Constance had expected. "Your behavior?"

"Why, the way I made love to you. You're a woman of refinement and sensitivity. To have thrown you on the floor in the middle of the afternoon, taken you so abruptly-it was despicable of me."

The ice-blue negligee rustled softly as Constance rose from the settee. "Simon, let me make certain I understand. You are not apologizing for having made love to me, merely for the place and manner in which the act was performed."

"Well, yes, I suppose you could put it that way."

"And you were not repulsed that I gave myself to you so -freely?"

"Repulsed!" Simon shot up from his chair, finally comprehending how disastrously he had misread her. "I love you, you muddle-headed woman! Of course I wasn't repulsed!"

And then she was in his arms.

"Oh, my dear Simon! My dear, dear man! You may make love to me on the floor of the drawing room or in the attic or even atop the dining room table if you choose." The green eyes that looked up at him suddenly brimmed with tears. "Do you remember how Benjamin used to tease you about being the perfect husband for me? He must have realized then how ill-suited I would be for unmarried life. Since he knew I would outlive him, I believe he was trying to accustom you to the idea of taking his place."

"Did you just propose to me, Connie?" Simon teased gently.

"Why, yes, I suppose I did. Do you mind terribly?"

He ran his hand slowly down her back, feeling the small ridges of her spine through the thin blue and silver silk. "I don't mind at all."

A tremor passed through Constance's body. "Simon, did you not say that a woman of refinement and sensitivity should not be taken as abruptly as you did before?"

He buried his face in her fragrant hair. "That's what I said."

"Well, then," she whispered, "pray tell me how I should be taken."

Simon looked down at her. "Like this," he murmured as he drew her body against his and kissed her tenderly, searching her mouth for a desire that matched his own.

He was not disappointed.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Noelle tried to compose herself as she fastened her chemise and then slipped into the petticoats Alice handed her. In less than an hour she and Quinn would appear, uninvited, in Lady Atterbury's ballroom. She no longer held any illusions about what that would involve.

The anger that had been growing inside her since her trip to Madame LaBlanc's once again threatened to break through, and she drew a deep, steadying breath. That morning, she had avoided Quinn by closeting herself with Mrs. Debs and catching up on the business of the household. After lunch, restless and irritable from her confinement, she had decided to pick up the new ball gown herself at Madame LaBlanc's and at the same time order a riding habit so she would be properly outfitted when Chestnut Lady arrived. The thought of riding sidesaddle did not appeal to her, but she would just have to manage. In the meantime she would order the most elegant and expensive habit that Madame LaBlanc could fashion and have the bill sent to her husband as quickly as possible. Quinn was going to learn right away that everything in this farce of a marriage could not be on his terms!

As Noelle stepped from the carriage two young women with whom she was slightly acquainted came out of Madame LaBlanc's shop. Her own greeting went unspoken as they looked her full in the face and then deliberately turned their heads away without saying a word.

The message was abundantly clear. Mrs. Quinn Copeland was not to be recognized by London society.

Furious at the snub, Noelle issued explicit orders to Madame La Blanc concerning the construction of the riding habit. After scolding her for an action that would only aggravate the scandal, the dressmaker had laughed wickedly and promised that the garment, with the requested modifications, would be completed quickly.

A loud sneeze distracted Noelle from her thoughts. "I'll finish dressing myself, Alice. Go to bed now and don't wait up for me. After a good night's sleep, that cold of yours will be much better."

"Are you sure you can manage, ma'am?" Alice's question was punctuated by a noisy sniff.

"I'm sure." Noelle smiled. "Now, get along before you have me sneezing, too."

As the maid scurried gratefully from the room Noelle sat down at her dressing table and inspected her hair. Alice had followed her wishes exactly, and the result was just as she had intended. Shunning the dictates of fashion, her hair was drawn up into a chignon with only a few tawny curls at her temples and the nape of her neck to distract from the smooth line. It was a style that had been out of fashion for years, but Noelle did not care; it suited her rebellious mood to be different. Besides, the arrangement was flattering. As she dusted a light film of color over her pale cheekbones, the magnificent topaz ring caught the lamplight and winked its agreement.

Noelle looked over at her new gown of bronze satin laid out on the daybed. It was simple, and yet with its unusual color and cut, magnificent. The only real ornamentation on the gown was at the hem, where a design of velvet flowers in the same rusty hue as the dress fabric had been appliquéd. It was the bodice, however, that made the dress such a success. It was cut in a wide, plunging V from the center of the shoulders down to the waist. Filling in the vast, open area were several layers of light bronze gauze.

Thoughtfully Noelle got up from the dressing table, walked over to the gown, and fingered the sleek satin. With the memory of today's snub fresh in her mind, she impulsively unfastened her petticoats, slipped off the chemise that Madame LaBlanc had designed to go under the garment, and then refastened her petticoats, so she was naked from the waist up. Only then did she settle the gown over her head. Holding it together in the back with her fingers, she smiled at the effect. No one could actually see through the gauze, but still, the gesture had made her feel better. Now, could she fasten the long row of hooks in the back by herself?

"Need some help?" Quinn drawled, leaning with his accustomed arrogance against the doorjamb. His pirate's beard and tousled blue-black hair contrasted handsomely with his gleaming shirt and well-cut waistcoat of white Marseilles.

"Yes, please," Noelle replied stiffly. "Alice has a cold, and I sent her to bed."

Quinn stepped behind her. "It'll be my pleasure." Slowly his index finger slid down her bared spine. With a small shiver, Noelle put her hands at her sides and forced the fabric of the garment to meet at the back. Taking his time, Quinn worked his way up from the bottom, slipping each hook through its tiny velvet loop.

"You haven't lost your nerve, have you? Tonight won't be easy, you know."

"So I'm discovering." She told him about the incident at Madame LaBlanc's.

"Does their approval mean so much to you?"

"You don't know me at all, do you?" Unwittingly she had echoed Simon's very words to Quinn the night before. "I don't give a fig for their opinion, but I won't be able to rest until I make certain they understand just that."

"All right. Highness. If you want to shock them, you might as well make a job of it."

Before she could stop him, he had reached out and yanked the entire gauze insert from the front of her dress.

"Quinn!"

"Shut up and look at yourself!" Roughly he turned her to face the mirror. "You're the most beautiful woman in London. No one can take that away from you."

He was right. Never had she looked better, even though the gown was now scandalously revealing. The V in the bodice had been cut so wide that the inside curves of both her breasts were completely exposed. As she stared with dismay at her reflection something heavy and cold fell into the warm valley. It was a plain square-cut topaz suspended from a long gold chain.

Quinn chuckled as he fastened it. "In case they're so blind, they miss your assets, this will draw their attention back to their oversight."

Noelle opened her mouth to protest, but Quinn's words silenced her.

"Pick up your chin, Highness. With you in that dress and me at your side, they'll know for certain that neither of us gives a damn what they think!"

The ball in honor of Leora and Dabney Atterbury's twentieth wedding anniversary was well under way before Simon was able to claim Constance for a dance. Since his arrival, he had been subjected to a deadly combination of thinly veiled barbs and unsolicited advice, and the effort to keep himself in check was stretching his temper thin. Constance, in the meantime, was handling the situation far better than he-telling everyone within earshot how happy the match had made her and how satisfied Simon was that Quinn had chosen his own dear cousin to marry, reminding everyone that the new couple were not related by blood -in short, giving the whole scandalous affair at least a veneer of respectability.