The question took him aback. Roslyn was eyeing him with her perceptive gaze, which made him feel as if she could see deep inside his mind. But he couldn’t reply to her discomfiting question when he himself didn’t know the answer.

He had strong feelings for Arabella, certainly. When she wasn’t with him, he missed her. And at the prospect of seeing her again, his heart began racing with anticipation. She roused a passion in him that he hadn’t felt in years, perhaps never.

But just because he wanted Arabella-and wanted to be with her-didn’t mean he would ever feel the romantic love he presumed Roslyn was speaking of.

“I think,” Marcus finally said, “that my feelings for your sister should remain private between us.”

Roslyn inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Perhaps. But we do not want to see Arabella hurt again.”

“I assure you, the last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

“But you cannot promise that you won’t.”

In all truth, he couldn’t make any such promise, Marcus reflected soberly, but he would try his damnedest. “I can promise you that if I wed your sister, our marriage will be nothing whatsoever like your parents’.”

Evidently Lily wasn’t satisfied. “If you make Arabella fall in love with you, you will break her heart. We won’t let you hurt her the way Viscount Underwood did.”

“There is no chance of that,” he replied with all sincerity.

“How can we be certain?” Lily demanded.

“I regret,” Marcus said, “that I won’t be able to persuade you of my benevolent intentions, but I mean to continue my courtship of your sister.”

When Lily continued to stare back at him in frustration, Marcus finally changed the subject. “Actually, I am glad for a chance to speak to you both in private.” He paused, glancing from one sister to the other. “Pray, tell me about your mother.”

At the mention of their mother, Lily stiffened, while Roslyn looked wary. “What do you want to know?”

“I understand she is living on the coast of France, in Brittany. Have you heard from her recently?”

Lily gave a brittle little laugh. “Not recently. Not in four years, in fact. She hasn’t sent us so much as a letter since she fled England with her lover.” The hint of bitterness in her tone was unmistakable, and Marcus could tell that Lady Loring was yet another painful topic for Lilian.

“Perhaps she had little chance,” Marcus observed. “The war on the Peninsula intensified shortly after she left for France, so communication would have been extremely difficult.”

“She could somehow have sent word to us,” Roslyn said more softly, “if only to let us know she was safe.”

“Your step-uncle never tried to contact her?”

“That is doubtful. Our step-uncle would not let Mama’s name be spoken in his hearing. He wasn’t willing to forgive her for the disgrace she brought his family name.”

“Do you know if she ever attempted to return home to England after the war ended?”

“Why would she?” Lily asked. “She would not have been welcome here.”

“What about now? Now that your step-uncle is gone, would you welcome her return?”

“No,” Lily answered, her voice quivering with conviction. “I don’t care if we never see her again.”

Marcus steepled his fingers under his chin as he studied his wards. Roslyn seemed a bit more forgiving of their mother, but he suspected Arabella’s feelings were almost as bitter as Lily’s.

“Why do you ask?” Roslyn said, watching him again with those shrewd, knowing eyes.

“I am curious,” Marcus replied, which was only a partial truth.

He decided it best not to mention the recent turn of events until he had more details to properly judge the situation. His unexpected business in London yesterday had solely to do with Lady Loring. She had written to him a month ago after hearing about her stepbrother’s passing, to express her condolences and to extend her felicitations to Marcus on attaining the earldom.

After a long discussion with his solicitors, Marcus had ordered them to locate Victoria Loring in France and provide her safe passage home to England, if she cared enough to come. He wanted to hear her story, since he wasn’t wholly convinced she was the black villainess the late earl had painted her. According to Simpkin, who had fulfilled the duel roles of butler and secretary for the former Lord Danvers and had managed all his lordship’s correspondence, Lady Loring had written several letters to her daughters over the years, but her stepbrother had burned them without so much as breaking the wax seal.

And if there was the slightest possibility of healing any of the painful wounds caused by her abandonment of her daughters, Marcus couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Lady Loring’s heartless actions had helped turn Arabella against marriage, and if she could come to forgive her mother, then she might be more willing to accept his own suit.

But he had no intention of sharing his hopes with his wards, in part because he didn’t want to risk rousing their disappointment in the event he was wrong about their mother.

His reply evidently did not satisfy Lily, however, for she eyed him intently. “If introducing the subject of our mother is a ploy to distract us from protecting Belle, your lordship, it will not work.”

A faint smile curved his mouth. “It isn’t a ploy.”

Lily continued to scowl as she abruptly stood. “If you dare hurt Arabella, I swear I will make you regret it.”

He had no doubt she would keep her word, either, or that her desire to protect Arabella was well-meant.

Politely Marcus rose to his feet. “I will take your warning to heart.”

Rising also, Roslyn started to follow her sister from the room, but then she hesitated, looking solemnly back at Marcus. “Do we have your word, my lord?”

“You have my word,” he said gravely. “I will do everything in my power to see that Arabella isn’t hurt.”

His vow seemed to reassure her, for Roslyn nodded slowly and offered him a tentative smile. “For some reason I trust you.”

Marcus was touched by her admission. Roslyn might not have declared herself his ally, but at least she was willing to allow him to prove himself.

When she was gone, Marcus frowned, contemplating his next step. He had no intention of hurting Arabella, but there was no way he would give up his courtship. He had only a few more nights with her and every moment counted.


Dinner that evening was an odd affair, leaving Arabella puzzled by the unmistakable undercurrents between Marcus and her sisters. Lily continued to treat him with wary reserve, but Roslyn seemed to have thawed toward him significantly.

Even odder was the conversation Roslyn carried on with Marcus-asking him about his family history, his tastes in music and literature, his political leanings, the condition of his various properties and estates…almost as if she were a protective mother and Marcus a potential suitor for her daughter.

Roslyn’s purpose made little sense to Arabella, since her sister was still presumably set against his courtship.

Marcus’s response also confounded her. He bore the inquiries with gracious charm rather than the vexation she might have expected. And after dinner, when they all moved to the drawing room, he made a concerted effort to become better acquainted with both her sisters, even Lily.

Arabella herself remained mostly silent, for she knew every word she uttered would be scrutinized by her sisters. And she was far too aware of Marcus’s nearness to feel at ease.

For the most part, Marcus paid her little attention the rest of the evening. And he made no attempt for a private word with her, even when it was time to retire to bed. In truth, he had no chance, for Roslyn and Lily accompanied Arabella out of the drawing room and escorted her to her bedchamber, apparently taking their roles as her protectors quite seriously.

Feeling restless and out of sorts, Arabella found herself staring out her window at the moonlit darkness, regretting not being able to sleep with Marcus tonight and wishing she could assuage the urgent longing she felt for him.

Realizing where her foolish reflections had taken her, though, Arabella made a scoffing sound and turned away to undress. She had just removed her evening slippers and started to unbutton her gown when someone scratched on her chamber door.

Disappointment flooded her when she saw it was only her maid, Nan, come to help her prepare for bed, and not the sensual lover who had been occupying her thoughts so obsessively of late.

“You may go to bed, Nan,” Arabella said, preferring to be alone. “I won’t require your services tonight.”

“As you please, Miss Loring,” Nan replied with a curtsy, “but Mrs. Simpkin ’as a problem in the kitchen that needs yer attention.”

“At this late hour?”

“She said it couldn’t wait.”

“Very well,” Arabella acknowledged. “I will come as soon as I fetch my shoes.”

She dismissed Nan and put on the slippers she had just taken off, then left her room quietly so as not to disturb her sisters in the adjacent bedchambers. Their doors were shut, Arabella noticed as she made her way down the corridor to the back service stairs in search of the housekeeper.

When she reached the kitchen, however, she came up short. There was no sign of Mrs. Simpkin. Instead, Marcus was sitting on the edge of the long dining table with his hands braced behind him, looking very much at ease. He had removed his coat and cravat although he still wore his evening breeches.

It was deplorable how her heart somersaulted at the sight of him. Chiding herself, Arabella disciplined her features into impassivity. “Where is Mrs. Simpkin?” she asked, although already suspecting the answer.