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"How can she not know?" cried Derrien. "Surely when you talk about gardens she must sense the truth."

He shook his head. "Honoria cannot tell a rhododendron from a rosebush. Nor does that fact trouble her in the least." Why was it that of late, that truth was troubling him more than he cared to admit?

She stared at him in disbelief. "That is awful—" She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, forgive me," she mumbled through her fingers. "There I go again, about spout off on something that is none of my business."

"No, indeed it is not," he replied, but there was no real sting to his words. "Perhaps it would be best if?—"

For the second time, their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of others seeking a bit of respite from the music and dancing.

It was Charles Ferguson who stepped into the room, Honoria close by his side.

A rosy color had replaced the usual marble whiteness of her cheeks and a soft laugh sounded from her lips at something the young professor had just whispered in her ear.

Adrian blinked several times, but before he could speak, Derrien shot to her feet.

"Charles!" she squeaked in warning, afraid that her friend and his companion might fail to notice that the room was not deserted.

Ferguson's head jerked around and it was his face that took on a deathly pallor. "Er, Derrien—" he began, but Honoria's rather brittle voice overrode his own meek attempt to speak.

"Adrian! I had been wondering where I might find you, and then Mr. Ferguson suggested I might try the library and offered to show me the way."

The viscount got to his feet as well, feeling a sudden stab of disappointment that his tête-à-tête with Miss Edwards was at an end.

He drew in a trouble breath, his emotions clouding in confusion.

The lovely lady before him had all the attributes he desired in a wife—beauty, wealth, rank and impeccable manners.

And yet the prospect of escorting her back to the lilting music left him feeling decidedly flat.

He gave himself a mental shake, trying to banish such disquieting thoughts. It was the dratted wager that had his mind in a whirl, he assured himself. Once it was over, everything would return to normal.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he said, forcing a smile to his lips. "I hadn't realized I had been gone so long. Miss Edwards was showing me Mr. Cheape's botanical prints."

"Yes," chirped in Derrien.

"Ah," murmured Ferguson.

"Mmmm." That was the only sound from Honoria.

The four of them shuffled and glanced rather awkwardly at each other for a moment before Adrian forced himself forward and offered his arm to his intended. "I hope you have saved a place on your dance card for me?"

"Yes, of course." She moved away from Ferguson's side and placed her hand on his sleeve. He was surprised to find it felt cold as ice.

"My thanks, Ferguson, for escorting Lady Honoria to me," he added, with a slight nod in the professor's direction. "Now, if you will excuse us..." He turned to Derrien as well and sketched a quick bow.

"Of course," chorused both of them at once. After another brief exchange of pleasantries, he and his intended bride left the room.

Ferguson made to follow, but Derrien grabbed his elbow. "Not so fast, Charlie. I want a word with you."

"Ahhhh..."

"No 'ahhhs' about it. Something very smoky is going on here and you're going to tell me what it is."

"I can't." He tried once again to move toward the door, but she slid around to block his way.

"Er, maybe later."

She crossed her arms.

A harried sigh escaped his lips. "Can you keep a secret?"

"As if I would even dignify that question with an answer!"

Ferguson slumped onto the sofa and ran his hands through his ginger hair. "Lord, what a horrible tangle."

"What is?" Derrien sat down beside him. "Oh, no. Don't tell me you've developed a hopeless tendre for Lady Honoria."

He looked up, a bleak expression in his eyes. "Worse than that. I'm in love with her. Completely, irrevocably in love with her. But thankfully, her sentiments are much the same. We are going to elope as soon as I can make all the arrangements."

There was a heavy silence as she stared at him in disbelief. "You are foxed," she finally said.

His mouth twisted in a wry grimace. "I wish I were."

"Then you are mad."

"Perhaps." He shrugged. "But all I know is that I shall truly go out of my mind if I let her slip away again."

"I think you had better start from the beginning."

Ferguson sighed and leaned back against the plump cushions.

"When I finished my studies at Cambridge, I had little money and few real prospects for employment.

When an offer was presented to me to tutor the young son of an English lord, I had little choice but to accept.

Besides, it afforded me the chance to live in London for a time, something that I, as a raw youth, thought would be exciting. "

He brushed at a wrinkle on his sleeve. "The position was decent enough.

The lad was a trifle spoiled, but at least he was not a total dullard.

My employer was not unkind, but as a penniless tutor, I was hardly important enough to engage his attention.

As you can imagine, I saw very little of the family—that is, except for the daughter.

" His eyes pressed closed. "Nora—Honoria—was as starved for intelligent conversation as I was.

I suppose. We began to exchange books, then to meet in the library to discuss our ideas.

She had a sharp mind and was eager to learn.

.." Another sigh followed. "Well, you can imagine what developed between a lovely sixteen year old schoolgirl and a callow tutor of twenty two. "

It didn't require much imagination.

"Right out of the covers of a Minerva Press novel, isn't it?

" he continued with a self-deprecating laugh.

"Naturally, it was impossible for me to make an offer, given my rank and purse.

So we decided, with the rashness of youth, to elope.

However, her lady's maid raised the alarm not more than an hour after we had stolen away.

" His lips twitched in a near wince. "Her father caught up with us before we had gone too far—before we had.

.. passed a night together on the road. I allowed myself to be convinced that a union with me would utterly ruin Nora's life.

So I promised to keep silent about the whole affair, as well as to quit England.

A position was arranged for me in Ireland. "

There was a slight pause as he pressed a hand to his brow. "Just to be sure I understood the terms of the bargain, I was beaten to within an inch of my life before being tossed on board the ship in Liverpool."

"Oh, Charlie." Derrien leaned closer and gave him a quick hug.

He smiled. "Don't look so stricken. In some ways, it was very good for me—it forced me to develop a certain strength of character if I wished to survive.

After a year or two, I found I had been left a tidy inheritance by a distant uncle, so I returned to Scotland, determined to establish myself at a university.

Well, and you know much of the rest." He tugged at the end of his cravat.

"Though not a day passed that I didn't think of Nora, I would never have thought to contact her.

I naturally assumed she had long ago forgotten her rash, youthful infatuation and was happily married to some man of her own rank.

But then she arrived in St. Andrews, a proof that the bones of our town's patron saint do indeed work miracles. "

A beatific smile spread across his face. "I'll not give her up this time."

Derrien swallowed hard. "But Charlie, she is engaged to Lord Marquand."

He looked rather uncomfortable. "Would you have her marry a man she does not love?"

S he realized with a sudden start that she definitely thought the match between Lady Honoria and the viscount was all wrong.

Now why was that? Her fingers twisted the strings of her reticule into a series of knots. Perhaps because she felt that he deserved someone who would appreciate his magnificent talents, someone who would share his interests.

Derrien tried to push such thoughts from her mind, along with the less noble sentiment that if Lady Honoria were not around, Marquand would have that much more time to spend discussing gardens with her.

"No," she answered out loud. "Of course, I should not wish for anyone to be forced to marry where there is no love. But what of Lord Marquand's feelings? Won't he be terribly hurt and humiliated by such a public jilting?"

Ferguson's expression was a mixture of guilt and defiance. "We both wish there was some way to avoid it, but..." He seemed to be searching for some excuse. "Nora is not even sure how strongly his feelings are attached," he added lamely.

"And what of the consequences to you, Charlie?

Have you given a thought to how such a scandal will affect your standing at the University?

Despite a certain aura of intellectual give and take, the people here—including your colleagues—are extremely straightlaced when it comes to matters of morality. "

"I know that, Derry." His jaw set. "But I am willing to accept the consequences, no matter what they are."

Derrien heaved a sigh. "Oh dear," she added under her breath. "It is going to take some very skillful play to get out of the rough."