“No.”

His lips thinned. “If you married me, you’d be much more successful.”

“Perhaps.” She lifted her chin, met his gaze directly. “But not even for that will I marry you.”

Despite his control, he felt his face harden. “Why not?”

She studied his eyes. A long moment passed, then she quietly said, “If you don’t know the answer, then that’s proof we shouldn’t wed.”

His inner male roared. “What is this?” He couldn’t keep the growl from his voice. “Some secret test?”

Her eyes flashed at his tone; with a swift jerk she pulled her arm free. Inclined her head in clear and haughty warning. “I’m going to spend the morning with Catriona. I’ll see you at luncheon.”

She turned and walked out of the hall.

He kept his feet planted and watched her go. Frustration welled. Secret test, indeed. The test, it seemed — the challenge before him — was to weave a net of social compulsions and seduction, then use it to capture her, tie her up, and drag her to the altar. . his primitive self liked the thought.

Savored it.

He would, he swore, do it — tie her up with passion and duty if need be, and marry her, stubbornness, willfulness, and all.

And — the true challenge — he would do it all without discussing or alluding in any way to what he truly felt for her.

To the feelings he had no intention of owning to, of ever letting out into the light of day.

Even for a rake — perhaps especially for a rake — some acts were simply too dangerous to contemplate.

Heather followed the stone stairs down to the dungeon below the manor. Whether it had ever functioned as a dungeon, she didn’t know, but it was now Catriona’s workroom. As she’d expected, she found her cousin-by-marriage there, busily compounding one of her remedies.

Bunches of herbs dangled from the massive blackened beams that crossed the ceiling, sending aromatic scents wafting in the warm air currents rising from the fireplace in which a small fire crackled and hissed. The chamber was large, lit by small windows high in the walls, and also by lamps burning fine oil. Algaria sometimes worked alongside Catriona but these days was more often to be found in the nursery, atoning for past sins by watching over Richard and Catriona’s children, especially Lucilla, the next Lady of the Vale.

Meanwhile, the present Lady of the Vale was standing at one end of the large central table busily grinding something in a mortar. She glanced up as Heather halted at the other end of the table, and smiled. “I thought you’d be by.”

Pulling up a tall stool, Heather plopped down on it. “Breckenridge is pressuring me to marry him.”

Catriona quirked one fine brow. “What did you expect? You and he have been traveling alone together for. . how long? Eleven days?”

Heather thought back. “No — we weren’t traveling together until we escaped from the others, so it’s only been three days.” She grimaced. “Not that that matters.”

“Three days, three nights.” Catriona shrugged, glanced again at Heather’s face. “You had to have known Breckenridge would do the honorable thing.”

Heather saw no reason to equivocate. “I have absolutely no intention of marrying him.”

“Hmm. . he is a rather daunting proposition.” Catriona paused to examine the contents of her mortar, then wielded the pestle again. “But if he’s too much for you to take on, then while I would be the last to claim a complete understanding of the ton and all its ways, given yours and Breckenridge’s respective backgrounds, I gather an acceptable alternative would be for you to marry some other gentleman, perhaps some second son nearer your own age, more gentle-tempered and meek, some mild-mannered and suitable suitor who was willing to overlook your abduction and its outcome — meaning the time you’ve spent alone with the ton’s foremost rake — someone agreeable to marrying you, presumably for your position and wealth, thus resurrecting your reputation.” Catriona frowned. “Mind you, I’ve never quite grasped just how and why a marriage can repair an otherwise irretrievably damaged reputation.”

Heather barely heard Catriona’s last comment; she was too immersed in horror at the vision Catriona’s earlier words had evoked. “It’s not. .” She blinked, strengthened her voice. “While I have no wish to marry Breckenridge, the notion of marrying some milksop who was willing to overlook. .” She focused on Catriona. “That’s an even worse prospect.”

“Ah. I thought perhaps you might have had some gentleman in mind.”

“No! It’s not that.” Heather dragged in a breath. “The truth is. . I’ve decided that marriage is not for me.”

Ceasing her pounding, Catriona looked up. “Oh?”

Heather nodded. “We — Eliza and I, and Angelica, too, but she’s three years younger, so not yet nearing her last gasp, but Eliza and I especially have been searching. . well, for the right gentleman.”

Catriona’s lips curved. She glanced down. “Searching for your hero?”

“Yes! Exactly. We know what we want — what sort of man he has to be. But. .” Unbidden, the image of Breckenridge filled her mind — not as she’d so often seen him, the epitome of polished sophistication prowling the ton, but as he’d been while he’d held her hand and they’d walked through the hills. What had she been searching for? What manner of man?

A man who loved her.

Breckenridge didn’t qualify, not in that respect.

Pushing his image from her mind, determination firming, she refocused on Catriona. “It’s clear I’m not going to find the gentleman for me, not now this has happened, so I’ve decided that as fate has effectively decreed that I won’t find love, then instead I want to devote my life to helping children who are homeless and alone — who don’t have what we, the three of us and our whole family, were born with. So I wondered if I could stay here and learn from you. I know you oversee the care of a small army of such children. I thought that I might stay up here for a time, until summer comes and any scandal over my abduction has blown over. By then I’ll have learned so much from you and your helpers, I’ll be able to go home to Somerset and see about setting up a similar system there.”

“Hmm.” Frowning, Catriona reached into a hessian bag of herbs, drew out a handful, and added the leaves to the mortar. Picking up the pestle, she looked at Heather, paused, studying her, then looked down and started grinding again. “That’s a laudable ambition, and not one I would discourage. However, you have to remember that for me, looking after stray children is but one activity that’s part of a greater whole. I’m the Lady of the Vale, and that’s my vocation — the position and the job I was destined to fill. Looking after my strays is a part of that.” She paused and met Heather’s eyes. “But it’s only one part of my larger life.”

Heather frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Catriona worked at her herbs. “What I’m saying is that before you create such secondary aspects of your life, you need to focus on the core, the central plank. . I suppose what I’m saying is that first, you need to define and secure your destiny.”

“But can’t my destiny be to look after stray children?”

Catriona raised her head and looked at Heather. A look from vivid green eyes that searched and somehow saw beneath skin and flesh to the essence that lay beneath.

Heather held still, unflinchingly met that incisive green gaze.

After a moment, Catriona visually drew back. “That isn’t what I see, what I sense, for you.”

When Heather looked her question, Catriona’s lips curved, faintly rueful. “Your destiny is intertwined with that of some man’s.”

“You can see him?”

“Not in terms of flesh and blood, face and features — I see his. . aura, if you like. His inner being.”

“And my destiny’s tied to his?”

“According to the Lady, your destiny lies in dealing with a man. . if not Breckenridge, then someone like him, of his ilk.” Catriona’s lips quirked. “A man like your cousins — the Lady knows, I can recognize their like well enough.”

“So. . I’m destined to find my hero after all?”

“Indeed. All you have to do is. .” Catriona frowned. “The word I’m being pushed to say is ‘see’ him — perhaps that means recognize him.”

Heather thought about that. Catriona’s prophecies didn’t come often, but they had a startling propensity for coming true. “Perhaps. . after I learn about looking after children from you and go back to Somerset—” She broke off; Catriona was shaking her head. “No?”

“To the Lady, your plan to learn about looking after stray children is a diversion. . at least at present.” Catriona tipped her head, as if listening to something far distant. “She views it as you trying to avoid the life you’re meant to live.”

After a moment, Catriona refocused on Heather, studied her face, then wryly said, “I suspect you won’t want to hear this, but all my instincts are suggesting you should look more closely at Breckenridge.”

“He doesn’t love me. He only wants to marry me because he feels honor-bound to do so.”

“Are you sure?”

Heather frowned. “All I can go by is what he says. .”

“Has he told you he doesn’t love you?”

“No, but. .”

“But he’s said nothing to lead you to believe he does?” When Heather nodded, Catriona smiled. “That, I have to tell you, means nothing. Whoever your hero is, he is definitely like your cousins, and dragging an admission of love from men like them is never easy. They positively hate exposing their finer feelings, even admitting they have such things, not if they can help it. . ” Catriona paused, looking struck.