She couldn't forget, however, his threat to whip her through the streets if she exceeded the bounds of propriety. And she would soon be exceeding those bounds with a vengeance. Her father would be outraged if he learned of her intention to spend two intimate weeks alone with Nicholas. Even now she was skirting the edge. She had eschewed a maid on the flimsy grounds that the trip was of short duration.

At least one worry was unfounded; she wasn't with child after her rash intimacies with Nicholas. Her courses had come and gone this past week. And from now on, whenever they were together, they would take the kind of precautions the journal had described.

"So," she said to Harry, making an attempt at cheerfulness as she drew out a deck of cards from her reticule. "What game shall we play?"

It was nearly an hour later when the coach turned onto the smooth gravel drive of the March estate, and by then Harry was squirming in his seat. His mother, Lady March, came out to meet them as soon as the carriage drew to a halt before the impressive brick mansion.

She embraced her son fervently, then greeted Aurora with almost as much fondness. Lady March had been a friend to Aurora since her mother's death, and they had shared the sorrow of Geoffrey's death. With Nicholas watching her, though, she willed herself to shrug off her sadness and made the introductions.

Lady March was effusive in her greeting to Nicholas as well, clasping his hand in gratitude with both of hers. "Harry's letters have been full of you, Mr. Deverill. I cannot thank you enough."

"It was nothing, my lady," Nicholas replied mildly.

"Oh, but it was. Harry has not had a man to guide him in…" She swallowed her sudden tears and pasted on a bright smile. "Will you be staying the night?" she asked Aurora.

"Thank you, but we must be getting back."

"You must at least have luncheon. And you must tell me all the gossip from London. I rarely get there these days, you know. Come into the house. Harry, you will join us…"

They settled in the drawing room until luncheon was served. Lady March kept Harry at her side, as if afraid he would disappear, but the moment the meal was through, Harry asked to be excused so he could go to the stables and visit his horses, barely waiting for permission before scrambling from his chair.

His mother stopped him from racing out the door, calling him to task for his ungentlemanlike behavior in front of guests.

"Pah, Rory is not a guest, Mama," Harry declared.

"Nevertheless you will apologize to her and to Mr. Deverill."

"Beg pardon," Harry said with an unrepentant grin.

"And I have yet to hear you thank her for her generous hospitality to you these past weeks," Lady March added sternly.

"Thank you, Rory." Returning to the table, he gave Aurora a fierce hug, shook Nicholas's hand, then dashed off.

Shaking her head in exasperation, Lady March sighed. "Sometimes I believe he is a changeling. He is so different from his brother Geoffrey…" She gave a start and glanced at Nicholas. "Now it is my turn to apologize, Mr. Deverill. I don't mean to be melancholy, but it is hard for a mother to lose a son. Or for a woman to lose her betrothed," she added, including Aurora in her rueful look.

Nick gave a sympathetic nod, but he wasn't as sanguine as he appeared. He wasn't at all happy with this visit, for it stirred up too many memories of his chief rival in Aurora's mind and heart. She had elevated the late Lord March onto a pedestal, and it would be difficult to knock him off.

He couldn't fight such a paragon, Nicholas knew. He could only try to make her forget – which he would do his damnedest to make happen if he could ever get her away from here.

Another event occurred, however, to raise more painful memories for Aurora and interfere with the continuation of their journey. They were about to take their leave when Lady March asked Aurora if she had heard from her father lately.

"No," she replied. "I'm afraid we have not been on the best of terms since my marriage."

"I understand he isn't faring too well," Lady March admitted. "Since you left, he has found it difficult to retain any servants. But I suppose it serves him right since he drove them all away with his vile temper."

Nicholas saw the fleeting emotions that ran across Aurora's beautiful face; clearly she was disturbed by what she had heard. She was silent, however, until Nicholas started to hand her into the carriage. Then she touched his arm.

"Before we leave," she said in a low voice, "I would like to call on my father."

Nick gave her a narrow look. "What do you expect to accomplish? You can't really wish to see him after the way he treated you."

"I don't wish to see him. But he is still my father."

"And you have an overdeveloped sense of duty," Nicholas said disapprovingly.

Aurora gave him a rueful smile. "I expect so."

"You don't owe him anything, Aurora. He's forfeited any right to your allegiance."

"Perhaps he has. But my conscience would always plague me if I left without making certain he is all right. You don't have to come with me if you don't wish to."

"Oh, no," Nick said with a dangerous smile of his own. "I would very much like the chance to meet the illustrious duke."

A short while later they arrived at the Eversley estate. The magnificent park had been badly neglected since she had last been there, Aurora saw with dismay. The gravel drive was rutted and unswept, while the unkempt lawns and ragged shrubbery looked a bit wild.

Her stomach was churning as she climbed the front steps with Nicholas, yet facing her father was something she had to do. She knew there was little chance for a reconciliation between them, nor did she really want one. But even though he had disowned her, he was her father, her flesh and blood. Whether he deserved compassion or not, she couldn't bring herself to turn her back on him. Not without making one last effort. She would never be able to close this chapter of her life, otherwise. She was very glad, however, to have Nicholas at her side.

When he applied the brass knocker, the thud sounded hollow, as if no one was home. Long minutes passed before the door was opened by a footman whose livery was soiled and disheveled. Not recognizing him, Aurora asked to see the duke.

"The duke ain't ‘ome," was the sullen response.

"He is not at home, or he is not receiving visitors?"

" ‘e ain't receiving."

"I should like to see him, nonetheless."

"And ‘oo might you 'appen to be?"

Aurora lifted her chin regally, staring the man down. "I might ‘happen' to be the duke's daughter, and I wish to speak to my father. You will please tell him I am here."

He glanced at Nicholas, as if sizing him up. Apparently deciding the visitor was both taller and stronger, the footman scowled and shuffled off.

Aurora glanced around her sadly. "When my mother was alive, this house was beautiful," she murmured.

She felt Nicholas's fingers brush her nape, a subtle display of sympathy and support. He didn't speak, but she felt him lending her strength, and she was grateful.

The servant finally returned. As sullen as ever, he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "‘is grace is in 'is study."

"I know the way," Aurora said coolly, moving past him.

Her footsteps slowed, however, when she neared the study door. Perhaps she was foolish to have come here. She pressed a hand to her stomach, reluctant to face the pain she knew she was about to bring on herself.

Bracing her shoulders, she stepped inside his study.

The sight of him was more shocking than she expected, even after Lady March's warning. The once noble Duke of Eversley was sprawled in a chair, his clothing as unkempt as his disreputable footman's, his blue eyes bleary and bloodshot as he scowled at her.

He had obviously been drinking, for his words were slurred when he spoke. "What the devil are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to set eyes on you again."

"Hello, Father," she said steadily. "Lady March said you were faring poorly."

"It is none of your business how I fare, you ungrateful wretch." Morosely, he lifted his glass of port wine to his lips and tossed off the remainder of the contents. "You are no daughter of mine. You defied my wishes, wedding a criminal on the gallows, shaming me… I should have taken my whip to you."

"Be very glad you didn't," Nicholas said chillingly beside her.

The duke's glance shifted to him. "Who the devil are you?"

Nicholas's smile did not reach his eyes. "The criminal's cousin, Brandon Deverill."

"Get out – and take her with you." Eversley raised his hand and pointed toward the door. "I won't have that whore in my house."

Aurora drew back as if slapped, but when Nicholas took a step forward, she laid a restraining hand on his arm. Rather than wounding her, her father's attack had only angered and saddened her.

"I shamed you, Father?" Her lips twisted in an ironic smile. "That is rich. What of the countless times you shamed me? The whole of my life I had to watch the despicable way you treated everyone around you. You ruled by fear, beating innocents and flying into rages for no other reason than that your porridge was cold or a speck of dust was left on your boots. Well, you should be quite happy now. You no longer must endure your servants' transgressions. You drove them all away."

His face mottled with rage, Eversley slammed down his glass and rose threateningly to his feet.