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Laurel had arisen that morning feeling surprisingly refreshed and optimistic, though she had lain in bed for a long time, the feel of her husband’s mouth lingering on her lips.

Beneath the tablecloth, Julian reached for her hand. "My apologies. Grandfather and Penny have strong opinions on the news, it seems."

Laurel smiled. "I am enjoying their discussion," she said, glancing from Lord Ebersole to his granddaughter. "I am curious about the latest news as well."

She had been avoiding the newspaper ever since Richard’s arrest. It was all too horrible and the thought of finding out more about him sent her into a state of dread. But now she was married. And London, with all the malicious gossips, was miles away.

Julian's warm hand around hers felt…right, if she were honest. Once she got her wits about her, she squeezed his hand in return.

It was an oddly intimate action and the feel of her husband's large, rough hand around her delicate fingers along with the fact they were doing so secretly while seated with Lord Ebersole and Penny, gave it all a very risqué feeling.

More than that, however, was the sense she and Julian had crossed the Rubicon and had formed an alliance.

Not one meant to trick or demean others, though she was certain once the truth of it all came out that is how it would appear to Julian's grandfather and sister, but they were both in a situation which required the other to survive.

He was strong and honorable and she could rely upon him. Her heart lifted. Finally, things were looking up for her.

"Here," Penny said, folding the newspaper over to show a headline and then passing it to her grandfather, "this is the article I found most interesting."

Lord Ebersole took up the paper and the rest of his family continued their meal.

"Do you miss your family, Laurel?" Penny asked.

"I thought perhaps you missed them. I know I was rather melancholy while Julian was in London.

Though I am feeling much better now that he has returned and brought you with him.

Much better than those trinkets he sometimes brings me from his travels.

" Penny gave her brother an impish look from beneath her lashes.

"Well, I do not intend to bring home any other brides and since you do not care for the trinkets I bring you, then you shall get nothing."

Penny stuck her tongue out at her brother, then giggled and resumed her repast.

The playfulness between brother and sister enchanted Laurel and they ate without much further discussion. Fortunately, Penny did not press the issue of Laurel’s family, having been distracted by her brother.

Lord Ebersole continued to be engaged with the newspaper while Laurel, Julian and Penny each enjoyed a final cup of tea before setting out on their days.

"Harrumph," the old man said from behind the newspaper.

"I know it is a sin to wish ill upon the dead, but I cannot say I am not glad to read of the death of Lord Richard Bernard.

Found dead in his prison cell. I am not surprised.

He was a most despised man and no doubt had enemies in powerful places. "

Laurel gasped and felt the color drain away from her face. Lord Ebersole lowered the paper and looked at her with concern. "Are you unwell, Laurel dear?"

She reached for her water glass with a shaking hand. "Th-thank you, sir. I am simply surprised to hear you say such a thing, I suppose. Of course, it is not my place to offer judgment on your beliefs and I am sure your thoughts on the man who died are justified."

"My apologies," Lord Ebersole said. "I have grown much too comfortable with you as part of our family even though it has only been a matter of days since your arrival. I ought not to have spoken so."

"But why are you glad he is dead, Grandfather?" Penny persisted.

"It is of no importance," Lord Ebersole said. "Please, let us speak of other things."

"There is no need for you to apologize," Laurel said.

"It is your table. You may speak as you wish.

" She paused for a moment to gather herself.

Her hands were clasped in her lap and Julian's hand rested heavily overtop of them.

"Besides," she continued, "I am curious as to what this man has done to cause you such a strong reaction to his death.

I do not suppose you are prone to such coarse feelings toward all who die. "

"No, I am not," Lord Ebersole said. "But this man.

.." Lord Ebersole shook his whiskered head back and forth as though fighting the urge to use words which were not appropriate at the table nor in front of ladies nor likely in most locations other than the loading docks.

"He was a con artist. Gaining the trust of gentlemen and then stealing from them, which was his intention all along. "

"Were you one of those gentlemen?" Laurel could barely get the words out and it was the height of impertinence for her to ask, but she had to know.

"No, I was not. Though I did meet him on several occasions.

A charming man, for certain. But my instinct told me his proposal sounded too good to be true.

However, a number of my acquaintances, including my grandson Lord Leonard Tinnitus, did invest with him.

I can assure you, the anger at Richard Bernard will last long after he is buried. "

"Cannot the men who were stolen from collect their losses from his estate?

You said he was a lord. He must have had a home and property.

Artwork and jewelry." Penny certainly had a thorough grasp of how such things worked, Laurel thought.

Of course, it was not as though her grandfather and brother had spent their time chatting about fashion and local gossip, so she must have picked up quite a lot over the years.

"It was all a facade," Penny's grandfather said. "He had taken money from one man and instead of investing it as he had promised, he used those funds to pay a phony dividend to his other investors, giving them the false impression that their money was safe and also paying astounding dividends."

"Which encouraged them to invest more or to tell their friends," Penny added.

"Precisely, my wise girl," Lord Ebersole said.

During all of this, Julian had remained eerily silent. His hand continued to rest over Laurel's like a barricade against the agony which threatened to overwhelm her.

"I am sure," Julian said, with an emphasizing squeeze of his wife's hands, "somewhere there is someone who cared about this man, so I think we ought to respect that instead of maligning him."

As quickly as he was able to do so without causing undue attention to himself or Laurel, Julian excused himself and asked his wife to accompany him as he left the breakfast room.

Drawing her into his private study, he pulled her close.

Initially, she was stiff as his arms encircled her, but as he moved his hands up and down her back and whispered soothing words, her hard resolve loosened and she leaned against him, allowing him to support her entirely as she grasped the collar of his coat and wept into his shoulder.

They stood in this manner for several moments until her tears dried up.

Reaching beneath her and into his coat pocket, he retrieved a handkerchief, then tipped her head back and wiped away the moisture with gentle sweeps over her cheeks and eyes.

When she looked up at him, their gazes met and the sadness there gutted him.

Without thinking, he lowered his face and kissed both her tear-stained cheeks and then his mouth came to rest upon her lips, caressing them gently until she sighed and slid her arms around his neck, continuing the kiss as her hands splayed across his shoulders. Her fingers clutching at him.

When the kiss ended, she rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. "I had not expected this news to hit me so hard. As you know, I have no great love for my stepbrother."

"But, he is your relative nonetheless." Julian brushed a loose tendril of her hair back from her face. "I am certain you did not wish him to come to a violent death."

"No," she said, her voice ragged. "I did not wish that on him or anyone."

She stepped back and though he yearned to keep her close, he allowed her some space.

"What am I to do now? Is there a funeral I must see to?

" Glancing down at her dress she asked, "Am I to go into mourning?

" She began pacing the room. "But if there is a funeral, who would attend?

How can I pay for such an expense? He has laid waste to his entire estate. "

Crossing the room, Julian took her into his arms again, pressing her head to his shoulder, as much for her comfort as for his.

"I shall send Kenley to London to make inquiries."

When Laurel stirred in his arms and made noises as though to protest, he put his finger over her pink lips. "He is the soul of discretion and I trust him completely with this delicate matter. I assure you, you may trust him."

Her gaze held his for a moment and then she nodded. "Thank you." Reaching up, she touched the side of his face, resting her palm on this scarred flesh. "I do not know how I would have been able to navigate such a problem without your help."

He gazed at her and thought of how dear she had become to him in only a short time.

He further thought about how she would soon be leaving him, Hazelden House and his entire family.

His heart clenched in his chest and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her all those things, this time of vulnerability seemingly breaking down even more of the barriers between them.

"Laurel," he said, wishing to speak before he lost his nerve.

"At least I will be out of your hair in only a short time," she said. "And then you will not have to be responsible for the disasters which seem to plague my life." Stretching up on her toes, she kissed his cheek and exited the room.

Laurel slipped into the parlor, grateful to find it empty. She closed the door behind her and drew in a deep breath. Of course it was due to the shock of learning of Richard’s death and her emotions were raw and near the surface.

But she knew for certain if she had not left Julian's arms when she did, she would have clung to him, begged him to continue kissing her and to never let her leave the comfort of his embrace.

And that would have been yet another disaster.

They had an agreement. A contract, no less. In fact, she had been the one to insist upon putting their terms into writing. She had also been the one to make the pillow barricade in their bed. She could hardly be the one to break the terms first. Not ever.

There is nothing in the agreement about conjugal rights.

Laurel flushed at the thought.

As she stood in the empty parlor, wringing her hands and working to calm her emotions, all she could think about was the feel of his lips on hers. His arms holding her safe and secure.

Those would be memories she would savor, for once she left Hazelden she would never wish to be close to any man. No man but Julian.

Was she falling in love with him?

No, no, no. This was not what was supposed to happen. She and Julian were meant to be companionable colleagues in a mutually beneficial scheme. Nothing more.

And nothing less.

But she could not help herself. To be honest, she had believed his long working hours and his disfigurement would be enough for her to keep a distance from him, but she had to admit the more time she spent with him, the more she got to know him, the more and more appealing she found him to be.

And the eye patch? The idea of seeing him with two normal eyes seemed ridiculous.

The patch was as much a part of Julian as was the way his right brow arched when he made a particularly piquant comment.

Or the way his lips turned up in a smirk when she said something that tickled him.

And she liked pleasing him.

Of course, the thing which would please him most, by his own admission, was gaining ownership of the mine. Was that not her sole purpose in being in residence at Hazelden?

And when the deed was completed, she would be on her way.