She pushed open the door to the chapel and entered the dim, incense-fragrant interior. "I do beg your pardon for being late, Father." She became aware of Leo Beaumont's presence even before she saw him pacing restlessly before the altar. Her heart jumped into her throat. "I ask your pardon, sir. I didn't realize you were to be rehearsing too."

"I understand from Father Felix that you've never been taught that punctuality is the courtesy of kings," Leo said acidly.

"Oh, indeed, I know it's impolite." She came swiftly toward him, her eyes glowing in her radiant face. "But I was talking with Toinette. My bracelet has come back from the jeweler and we were admiring it and the time just went somewhere." She held out her hand to him, her fingers closing over his.

Deliberately, he pulled his fingers free and instead picked up her wrist, holding it to the light from the rose window above the altar. As always, the bracelet's curious design disturbed him. The serpent that tempted and ultimately destroyed Eve. Sometimes he had thought Elvira had been the embodiment of Eve and that Michael had picked his gift with pointed care. He noticed that the jade heart was now missing. It had been the charm Michael had given to Elvira. Presumably, he'd thought it more tactful to remove it before passing on the gift to Elvira's replacement.

He became suddenly conscious of Cordelia's pulse racing beneath his fingers as they circled her wrist. Her skin was hot. He looked into her face, and she smiled with such seductive radiance, her eyes so full of joyous excitement, that he dropped her wrist as if it were a burning brand. For an instant he closed his eyes against the blazing force of her invitation.

"Well, now you're here, let's be done with this business. I've other things to do with my time." He turned brusquely to the altar. "Father, if you're ready."

The chaplain came forward with an eager assent. "It won't take long, my lord. Just to make sure that you're both familiar with the ceremony and the blessing of the rings."

Cordelia stepped up beside Leo. Her skirts brushed his thigh. She tilted her head to look up at him. "Don't be vexed, my lord. I'm truly sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It's not necessary to stand so close to me," he snapped in an undertone, taking a step sideways.

Cordelia looked hurt.

"I beg your pardon, my lord. Is something the matter?" The chaplain looked up from his prayer book, where he was searching for the relevant passages.

"No." Leo shook his head with a sigh. "Nothing in the world, Father." He stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the pulsing presence beside him. How on earth was he going to manage her on the long journey to Paris? Or did he mean, how on earth was he going to keep his hands off her?

The ceremony was short, and Father Felix was only too happy to race through it when he realized the viscount's impatience and Lady Cordelia's restless distraction. He closed the book with relief after ten minutes. "That's really all there is to it. The blessing of the rings will take five minutes, and, of course, there'll be an address to the congregation. You will make your confession before the service, Lady Cordelia, so that you will be in a state of grace when you make your vows."

"And His Lordship too?"

"As this is a marriage by procuration, my lady, Viscount Kierston does not have the same obligations."

"Quite apart from the fact that I don't practice your faith," Leo stated. "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

Father Felix offered a blessing and disappeared into the sacristy.

"Oh, no, wait!" Cordelia gathered up her skirts and ran to catch up with the viscount as he strode out of the chapel. "Don't go yet." She slipped her hand into his arm, pulling him aside into a small side chapel. "What a relief it must be not to have to go to confession." She took a bite of the pear she'd been holding in her hand throughout the rehearsal. "I tend to be rather forgetful when it comes to remembering my sins."

Her chuckle was so infectious that Leo couldn't help a responding smile. "Selective memory has its uses." He couldn't drag his eyes away from her little white teeth biting into the succulent flesh of the pear.

"I was wondering if loving could be considered a sin," Cordelia mumbled through another mouthful of pear. "I don't know why it should have happened that I love you the way I do, but it's a fact, and I don't really believe that God would frown upon it."

"Oh, in the name of mercy, Cordelia!" Leo jerked his arm free. "You don't know what you're talking about." He glared down at her. "And you've got pear juice running all down your chin."

"But I do know what I'm talking about," Cordelia protested firmly, searching through her pockets. "Oh dear, I seem to have mislaid my handkerchief. They're such juicy pears, you see."

With a muttered exclamation, Leo pulled out his own handkerchief and scrubbed at her chin. "You have to stop this fanciful nonsense, Cordelia. Do you hear me?" He thrust his handkerchief back into his pocket.

"I hear you. But I don't consider it to be nonsense." She gave him a serene smile. "Tomorrow night, in the Hofburg chapel, you will be my husband."

"Proxy!" he cried, flinging up his hands in frustration. "Proxy husband!"

"Yes, well, that's just a detail." She looked around for somewhere to dispose of her pear core, then with a shrug shoved it into her pocket. "Don't you see, Leo? This is meant to be. I know it in my blood. There are some obstacles, I know, but nothing we can't overcome."

"Are you run quite mad?" He looked at her helplessly.

She shook her head. "No. Kiss me and you'll see what I mean."

"Oh no." He backed away from her, holding up his hands as if to ward her off. She was Eve, and the serpent bracelet gleamed on her slender wrist as she reached for his hand.

"Kiss me," she repeated, her voice low and sweet, her eyes beckoning him with a siren's enchantment, her parted lips offering entrance to the lush secrets of her body. Her hand closed over his and she stepped up to him. Light from the stained-glass window played over her upturned face, and a bar of gold lay across her milk white throat. "Kiss me, Leo."

He caught her face between both his hands. The urge to bring his mouth to hers was overwhelming. His lips seemed to sing with the memory of the times he had kissed her, and she was looking up at him with all the expectant wonder of sensual awakening. He could feel his fingers deeply imprinting the soft skin of her cheeks. There was a demon here, in her or in himself, he didn't know, but somehow it must be exorcised. He looked down at her, his eyes seeming to pierce the shell of her body to the soul beneath.

Abruptly, his hands dropped from her face. He turned and strode from the chapel, and the door clanged shut behind him.

Cordelia bit her lip on her disappointment. She felt empty, as if she'd been promised something that had been incomprehensibly withdrawn. And yet she was certain that he did feel what she felt-that they were somehow bound to each other. It wasn't a certainty that she could imagine either ignoring or questioning.

Chapter Four

Leo was bored, but no one would guess it from his smiling attention, his easy conversation, his diplomatic appearance of pleasure in the evening. He disliked costume balls more than anything, and in Paris or London he would have appeared in his regular dress, maybe carrying a loo mask as token contribution to the festivities. But in Vienna he was a foreign guest, a member of a delegation, and it would be discourteous to spurn his hostess's entertainment. So now he was clad as a Roman senator in a purple-edged toga, but as if to emphasize his dislike of the entertainment, his loo mask dangled negligently from one finger.

He shifted from one foot to the other and watched the clock. At midnight everyone would be unmasked, and if he slipped away a little beforehand, he could return dressed as himself without drawing comment.

In the meantime he conversed with one half of his mind while his eyes covertly raked the throng for Cordelia. She'd been at the banquet, dressed in a gown of celestial blue quilted taffeta over a petticoat of palest blue. Her midnight black ringlets clustered on her white shoulders, caught up at the back in a pearl comb. Her wrist was circled with her betrothal bracelet, and he noticed how she played with it absently when her hands had nothing else to do.

He had tried not to look at her, but, failing in that, had concentrated on concealing his observation. She had cast him several speaking glances across the wide expanse of the banquet table, but he had refused to return them, pretending to see only the brilliant glitter of the chandeliers, the crystal sea of glass, the glinting planes of silver and gold salvers that stretched between them.

But he couldn't deny that she was entrancing. She bubbled with life, and her table companions were reflected in her light and laughter. She seemed to scintillate at the center of the people around her, and Leo again saw Elvira. No one could be in the same room with Elvira without becoming wittier, prettier, handsomer, livelier. Even Michael in the early days of their marriage had taken on some of her hues.

Amelia and Sylvie occasionally showed glimpses of their mother's spirit, but they were intimidated by their dour governess, who was under strict orders from her employer to stamp out any signs of unseemly liveliness in the girls and to train and educate them to know their duty.

Leo, suddenly aware of his clenched jaw, forced his thoughts back to the ballroom. He made some vague observation to his companion as they stood at the side of the ballroom, his eyes still searching the crowd of dancers for Cordelia. She would have changed into her costume after dinner, but he was sure he'd know her, no matter how elaborate her disguise. Nothing would conceal the essential Cordelia.