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  “I said, Posh! Piffle! Twaddle! Poppycock! I don’t know exactly what is afoot here, but I will not stand for it! There. Now you know.”

  “Be assured—”

  “I am assured. I am assured that you will not be allowed to retreat to that dismal house in Burlington Gardens again. You will not be allowed to languish there with your two-headed monsters and nasty, lolling-tongued statues. When you languish, Lord Avenall, it will be with me!”

  She did not understand at all, but how could she? The line must be drawn, and drawn very clearly, at once. He held her shoulders. “As I have told you—I am your friend and you may look to me for support in any trouble that befalls you. I will protect you.”

  “And I will protect you,” she told him fiercely. “Husbands and wives are bound to protect each other.”

  It must be made clear now, before he took steps he would soon come to rue. “What husbands and wives do is of no relevance here.”

  Her eyes held his. “You would not have touched me as you did if you did not wish for us to be man and wife.”

  “Wishing has nothing to do with this. On this occasion, necessity must be the only consideration.”

  “Necessity demands that I be with you, Saber,” she said with simple directness. “I want to be where you are at all times. When you are awake and when you are asleep. Always.”

  His gut clenched. He reached out and held her hand, closed his fingers around it so tightly he saw her wince. “Listen to me,” he said, hearing the harshness in his tone. “Your little fantasy can never be. Accept what we have shared and be grateful I am not a man completely without scruples or control. Also, if you are moved to think ill of me, remind yourself that it was you who would not rest until you forced a meeting with me. You would not forget me even though I had begged you to do so.”

  “Saber—”

  “No. No, let me finish. We will not be announcing a betrothal tonight. Not tonight. Not ever.”

  “Why?” she managed to choke out. “Please make me understand.”

  “Because it cannot be. I cannot now, and will never be able to marry you.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Icannot now, and will never be able to marry you.”

  Ella emerged from the door to the servants’ stairs on Saber’s arm, his announcement still ringing in her ears.

  When the rush of loud conversation, of laughter, and of music met them, Saber hesitated.

  Ella didn’t urge him onward but waited patiently. He must accomplish his reappearance in Society at his own pace. But there were other matters that would not be left to the uncertain fate of Lord Avenall’s whims, such as his marriage—to Ella.

  He placed his fingers over her hand on his arm and proceeded slowly. His fingers were long and firm and warm. Ella liked the sensation of his strength added to her resolve. She liked everything about the man—except his foolish belief that she would somehow forget what had passed between them, and be content to become his “friend.”

  “Why?” she asked conversationally.

  His face, when he looked down at her, was rigid. He dreaded confronting people who would stare. How could a man so devastatingly attractive doubt his power to overcome something so trivial as scars—even such cruel scars?

  “Why, Saber?” she repeated. “What are you asking?”

  “Why can’t you marry me?”

  They had almost reached the stream of guests coming and going from the supper room. Saber drew to a halt and stared at Ella. “In God’s name. Have you lost your mind?”

  “Not that I’m aware. Why, have you lost yours?”

  The look he aimed at her was decidedly strange. “My sanity is not for you to discuss. And kindly do not mention …do not embarrass yourself by persisting with a subject we have agreed never to mention again.”

  “I agreed to no such thing,” she told him in the identical tone. “Good evening, Countess Ballard. How lovely to see you again.”

  The elderly, gray-haired lady paused on her way into the supper room and raised a gold lorgnette to her bright blue eyes. “Hmm,” she said. “Young Hunsingore’s gel. Pretty thing. Unusual. Make some man a fine wife.” With that she leveled her blue gaze on Saber and blinked. She dropped the lorgnette and said, “At least you’re not dead, young man,” before continuing on, her voluminous black gown rustling, an excess of fabulous gems winking at her neck and on her hands and wrists.

  “I suppose I ought to find that funny,” Saber said through his teeth.

  “One day we’ll remember it and laugh.” Please.

  Saber’s fingers gripped Ella’s tightly. “Come on,” she told him. “Let’s find Mama and Papa.” Ella took a step, and Saber walked with her until they reached the entrance to the great hall.

  “This is a mistake,” he murmured.

  Those closest stopped talking and turned to stare. Ella saw female mouths fall open, and she didn’t imagine for an instant that their owners felt only horror at the sight of Saber. She recognized fascination when she saw it.

  He mesmerized them…. “Hot,” he said, his step faltering. “So hot.”

  Ella pressed close to his side and said, “It will be cooler once we reach the other side of the room.” She slid her fingers farther down his hand until she could thread them with his. Surely he didn’t tremble?

  She glanced up at him. His gaze appeared fixed.

  “Saber,” she whispered urgently. “Are you ill?”

  He started, and shook his head. “Ill? I am oppressed, not ill.”

  How typical of the male, to resort to any lengths to avoid what they did not wish to confront.

  “Oppressed? Is that all? We are all oppressed, my lord. You have not answered my question yet.” Smiling from side to side, she walked, so that Saber had no choice but to accompany her—or desert her and flee.

  He accompanied her. “What question? This scrutiny is insupportable.”

  “How can you blame them for staring? You are the most mysteriously compelling man in the room. Some think they know you, but cannot be certain after so long. Soon one of them will be sure and the news will spread like fire through dry grass. And you will be fighting off the attentions of these young hopefuls and their mamas. Why would there be any reason for you not to marry me?”

  “Ella,” he mumbled. “Not now.”

  “That’s an improvement. At least you admit we shall have to discuss the subject further.”

  As they progressed, a swath opened before them with elegant men and women falling back on either side. Hushed comments slithered amid the sibilant whisper of satins and silks brushing together.

  “They consider me a freak,” Saber muttered. “And so I am.”

  “Lord and Lady Eagleton!” Ella said gaily. “Look who I found on my way back from the supper room.”

  Lord Eagleton surveyed Saber with interested gray eyes. His golden-haired wife smiled in surprised recognition. “Saber,” the lady said, obviously delighted. “Why, it’s been so long since anyone saw you. You were in India?”

  “I was,” he said evenly.

  Lord Eagleton’s clever face showed pleasure. “Avenall. Of course. Damned glad they didn’t manage to finish you, man. And I’m glad to see you about again. Take care of Hunsingore’s girl, there. She’s the apple of her papa’s eye.”

  “Understandably,” Saber said.

  Ella didn’t dare risk looking up at him. “We’re on our way to find Papa now,” she told the Eagletons, whose attention was immediately captured by other guests.

  Nearby, three young females clustered close together and peeked at Saber.

  Ella glared at them, but they didn’t notice.

  He said, “Look at them. They can’t take their eyes off me.” She giggled. “And of course it’s because you’re so repulsive. Sometimes I cannot believe the stupidity of men.”

  “You have never learned the value of respect, my girl. This is not an easy matter for me.”

  “Ella Rossmara!” One of the girls detached
herself from her friends and tripped rapidly in front of Ella and Saber. “You are coming to my ball, aren’t you?”

  This was Ella’s first formal outing of her first season. If she had been introduced to this female, she had no recollection of it.

  “Verbena White-Symington,” the girl said, looking not at Ella but at Saber. Her perusal was avid. “My ball is to be in two weeks. Since my mama’s sister was a lady-in-waiting to the King’s sister, the Princess Mary, my ball is to be held at Clarence House!” Verbena White-Symington, brown-haired, somewhat plump and festooned with yards of green, pleated frills, all but capered with self-importance.

  Saber said nothing. Ella felt the force of his desire to be anywhere but here. “How wonderful for you, Verbena,” Ella said kindly.

  “Isn’t it, though? And you will come?”

  If she had been invited to a ball at Clarence House, she would not have forgotten. That her parents were concerned by a lack of invitations had not gone unnoticed by Ella, who longed to tell them that all of the Polite World must know she was not their daughter by blood.

  “I don’t believe I’ve met your companion.” Verbena looked even more boldly at Saber. “Are you the Earl of Avenall? The one everyone talks about?”

  The girls behind her gave a combined little shriek of delighted shock at such forwardness.

  “I am the Earl of Avenall,” Saber said. “So I suppose I must be the one everyone talks about. If you’ll excuse us?”

  “You’ll come to my ball at Clarence House, won’t you, my lord? I think your disfigurement is ever so interesting.”

  Another little wail of pretended horror sounded.

  Ella didn’t wail, or smile. She turned from Verbena without another word and took Saber with her. “I told you every girl would be praying for your notice.”

  “Is that what they’re doing?” He sounded so cynical. “She wants you at her ball, Saber. Your presence would be a coup.”

  “Perhaps they hope I’ll be part of some entertainment. A monster for display, possibly. Rather than a dancing bear.”

  “Don’t—”

  “I do not belong here. I should never have come.”

  “Stop it. I will not listen to this.”

  Young females smiled at Saber. He didn’t notice. Neither did he appear to notice the calculating glances, the whispers behind fans, on the part of the girls’ mothers.

  “I think I see Mama’s dress over there. Near the windows. It will be cool. Do you see Mama? There are gilded columns nearby. See? And such a crush of friends. Mama and Papa are so rarely in London. Everyone is always so happy to see them.”

  “What I see is that I appear to have caused the stir of the century,” he told her quietly. “And I do not like it.”

  “The stir you cause on our wedding day will put this one to shame. You will look so handsome in your wedding clothes.”

  He squeezed her hand in warning. “That subject is closed.”

  “Oh. Are you already married?”

  “What?”

  “Do you have a wife?”

  He stared straight ahead. “You know I do not.”

  “Do I?”

  “You call me a liar, miss?” Saber asked her, narrowing his eyes to meet hers.

  “Good.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Good. That is all. Simply, good. You do not have a wife, so there can be absolutely no reason for you not to marry me. Unless you hate me. Do you hate me?”

  “No.”

  “Good evening, Sir Basil.” She dropped a brief curtsy to a very elderly gentleman who had come to Hanover Square in search of Mama’s grandmother. “Do you find me repulsive, Saber?” Evidently Sir Basil was still one of the dowager’s admirers.

  “Do you?” Ella persisted.

  “May this monstrous event soon be over,” Saber muttered. “Of course I do not find you repulsive.”

  “Did touching my body sicken you?”

  “Oh, Ella. I was so wrong.”

  “Because you did not enjoy—”

  “Be silent,” Saber ordered.

  She saw Mama clearly now. “I am merely trying to ascertain the true reason for your decision to use and then spurn me.”

  “Oh, my God, Ella. If you are heard, you will be ruined.”

  “I am already ruined.”

  “You are not. And I did not …I did not intend to use you.”

  “Hello, Sukey. Your dress is lovely.” She smiled at a girl who had stopped to study Saber.

  He averted his face. “Ella—”

  “Promise me you will not hide away from me again.” She checked her stride, pulling him to face her. “Promise me, Saber. I’m begging, but I don’t care. I need you. I don’t want to be without you again.”

  His eyes darkened and he gazed fully upon her mouth. A muscle in his jaw sprang hard.

  Ella said, “And I think you need and want me, too.”

  “Here they are!”

  Devlin North’s booming baritone announced Ella’s arrival with Saber. She turned reluctantly toward her parents and their friends.

  Mama’s lips parted. “Saber!” Her throat moved sharply, and when she surged toward him, her tear-filled eyes showed her intense emotion. “We have missed you, cousin. We have truly missed you.”

  Saber absorbed Mama’s hug while Papa slapped him on the back and said, “Damn it, man, you’ve chosen to be a stranger from us all. Welcome back to the light.”

  “Thank you.” Saber was slow to return Mama’s embrace. When he did so, Ella saw his eyes close and the shadow of pain pass over his features. “I have missed both of you.”

  Mama raised her head to look at him and held her bottom lip in her teeth. “Did you think that would matter? The scars? You are more handsome than ever.”

  “That’s what I’ve told him,” Ella said. “Isn’t it, Saber?” He lowered his eyes and didn’t respond. “Calum will be in Town shortly,” Papa said. “He and Pippa intend to give Ella a ball in Pall Mall. He’s mentioned wanting to see you.”

  “Yes,” Mama said. “You’ve worried us all.”

  “For that, I’m sorry. These have been… unusual times.”

  “I expect they’re glad to see you’re in possession of your faculties, old man,” Devlin said, laughing and showing his marvelous white teeth. “Probably afraid you aren’t capable of handling your estate. Ripe for some unscrupulous type’s shenanigans. Or an asylum. Now they can put those fears to rest, eh?”

  Tension emanated from Saber. “I can’t imagine why they should think such things. A man’s got a right to prefer a quiet life.”

  “ ’Course he does,” Devlin agreed seriously. He raised his eyes—and his arched black brows. “There’s Margot. I thought you said she wouldn’t come tonight. I suppose she couldn’t stay away once she knew we’d be here.”

  The woman who approached, her smile for no one but Saber, set Ella’s pulse thrumming. Amber glowed in combs holding the copper-colored ringlets that cascaded from a plaited arcade at her crown. Even at a distance, Ella caught the glow of the woman’s eyes as they watched Saber, the glow of joy at the sight of him. Eyes like fine brandy. A face as exquisite as a porcelain doll. And a body as voluptuous as Ella’s was slender. Voluptuous in patent lace over satin the same color as cinnamon diamonds.

  “Mon chi,” she said huskily when she arrived before Saber. “How happy this makes me.” A wide, square neckline, edged with cream lace, revealed the tops of full, white breasts.

  “Margot,” Saber said, taking the woman’s hand and bowing to kiss it. “It always makes me happy to see you.”

  Ella’s arms fell to her side. “This is Countess Perruche,” Saber said to the assembled group. “We are old friends.”

  “Very old friends,” Devlin said, his cheerful demeanor showing no sign that he’d noted the stiffness that had crept into the moment. “Saber and Margot inspire me.”

  Ella made herself look away from them and ask, “Inspire you, Devlin?”

&n
bsp; He shrugged, and pushed his lips forward. “Devotion is always to be envied and sought after, don’t you think?”

  The countess smiled around the circle and moved to Ella’s side. “You must be little Ella. I have heard a great deal about you.”

  Not so little, Ella longed to say. So it was true. Saber and this lovely creature were…Well, they were, that was all.

  “Saber has told me that you were not even sixteen when he met you.”

  “Years ago,” Ella said quickly.

  Countess Perruche inclined her head. “As you say.” She looked at Saber again. “Saber and I met in India. He has been most generous to me.”

  Ella noted how Mama studied the floor and Papa threaded his hands beneath the tails of his evening coat behind his back. Neither continued to smile.

  A scuffle, accompanied by a high-pitched giggle, broke the tension. Precious Able trotted through the French windows and stopped when she saw the silent company that watched her arrive.

  “It’s lovely outside,” she said in her high, coy voice. “Really lovely, isn’t it, Pommy?”

  Smoothing his thin brown hair, Pomeroy Wokingham followed her inside. He passed Precious as if she had ceased to exist and joined Ella’s group—as if he’d been invited. “I’m damned,” he said, staring at Saber. “Avenall? Thought you weren’t quite …Well, to be blunt—and I do believe in being blunt—to be blunt, I thought you weren’t quite yourself anymore, old boy.”

  “Pommy,” Precious whined, pushing to the center of the gathering. “I’m cold. You promised me a little something to warm me.” She did not wear the cloak Pomeroy had promised, and her pink dress was crumpled.

  “It is cold,” Ella said, suddenly feeling guilty that she might have caused this light-brained girl discomfort by abandoning her to the foul Hon. Pom. “You should go into one of the parlors where there is a fire, Precious.”

  Precious’s eyes hardened on Ella. “Pommy’s going to make sure I’m warm, aren’t you, Pommy?”

  He ignored her. His gaze lingered rudely on Saber’s face, but he spoke to Papa. “It’s good to see you again, Hunsingore. My father’s a bit under the weather, or he’d be here. My father holds you and your lady in the highest regard. He said as much after we visited Hanover Square.” Pomeroy turned his attention to Ella. “Not, of course, in quite as high a regard as I hold you, Ella.”