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C ecilia was almost late to dinner, when usually she was the most punctual one in the house. But she’d paced the study for two hours, the account books not bringing their usual focus, her mind whirling about her dilemma even as she imagined her “husband” exploring her rooms. It was Talbot who gently announced—for the second time—that their guests had already gathered in the drawing room, and dinner was about to be served.

Breathless from hurrying, Cecilia found Oliver leaning against the massive hearth, eyeing Lord Blackthorne with undisguised indifference, which pricked her with sadness. His disheveled blond hair was darker than her own, his eyes a bloodshot gray, his frame lean and gangly with youth. Beneath his brown coat, he wore plaid trousers that set off his dashing red waistcoat. He seemed so young when compared to Lord Blackthorne’s military bearing and air of quiet confidence. He was young, she reminded herself.

Lord Blackthorne, neatly, conservatively, dressed in dark coat and trousers, stared back at Oliver, nonplussed. She didn’t know if she expected him to wear his uniform, but she was relieved he hadn’t. Oliver didn’t need to be reminded of their days in India—and frankly, neither did she.

Penelope’s worried frown cleared upon Cecilia’s arrival. “There you are! And aren’t we all just starving? Lord Blackthorne must be, after his journey from London.”

“It’s not that far from Town,” Oliver said sullenly. “A few hours by horse.”

“The weather and his injury might have affected his travel, Oliver,” Cecilia said. “But why don’t you lead the way.”

She was paired up with Lord Blackthorne, who held out his arm, and she placed her hand on it. She could feel the tight, hard muscles of his forearm, and it made something strange swirl around in her stomach. Never had touching a man seemed so fraught with intriguing danger. Releasing him as soon as was proper, she allowed him to guide her chair beneath her.

The table could easily seat fifty people, but they sat together at one end. She wondered if Talbot had ignored the family dining room to make sure that Lord Blackthorne understood the importance of the family he’d married into.

“Sit at Oliver’s left, my lord, as our honored guest,” Cecilia murmured.

He nodded, and she slowly let out her breath as he walked away and sat down opposite her. Penelope perched on a chair to her right, her expression fond as she looked at Oliver, then hesitant, perhaps even eager, as she studied Lord Blackthorne. Cecilia wondered what Penelope had said to Oliver because his sullen dark glances were no true indication, and she felt another twinge of sadness. As the earl and host, he might have begun the conversation, but he said nothing, only eating the first course, acting as removed as a little boy.

She saw Lord Blackthorne studying him, and she felt a flare of embarrassment and exasperated tenderness all at the same time. In some ways, Oliver had been more her child than her mother’s, especially after the death of his identical twin when they were only children. She touched the locket she always wore, with the miniatures of both her brothers laughing as if to each other.

It took her a long moment to get beyond that memory. “Lord Blackthorne, how was your journey from India?”

“Uneventful, thank you, Lady Blackthorne.”

“The steamships make the journey in only six weeks or so, which is far more pleasant.” She gave a faint shudder. “I remember the six months’ journey on sailing ships. My mother had a delicate constitution and spent much of the time in her bunk.”

Oliver casually said, “So, Blackthorne, tell us the real reason you married my sister, sight unseen.”

“Oliver!” Cecilia cried.

Michael had been expecting this, so he wasn’t all that surprised. Young Lord Appertan should be concerned about his sister—but Michael sensed there was so much more going on. The young man seemed immature and didn’t even attempt to hide it. It was hard to believe he was the son of a military hero. But, then again, Appertan’s father had not often been a part of his life the last ten years or so.

Her face a pretty pink as if with embarrassment, Cecilia said, “My marriage is none of your concern, Oliver. You weren’t my guardian.”

“But I am your brother, and the earl.”

Michael answered honestly, “I married your sister because she asked me to.”

Cecilia winced.

By letter, she had seemed to him to be a woman who did what was necessary, even when it meant marrying a stranger. But she didn’t want her brother to know the details? Michael began to wonder who was in command here.

“You’re that easily wed, Blackthorne?” Appertan demanded, smirking.

“I had no immediate plans to wed. But I considered your father a friend and mentor. With his death, I wanted to assist your family in any way I could. Frankly, I assumed Lady Cecilia was a plain spinster, who felt she could only attract a suitor with her fortune.”

Lady Blackthorne gasped, Miss Webster covered her lips to hide what was obviously a grin, and Appertan’s mouth dropped open before he barked out a harsh laugh.

Michael glanced at his wife apologetically. “You must concede that is a fair assumption.”

“I told you I didn’t want to be under the control of my guardian, Lord Hanbury,” she said.

“I admit, I was surprised when I first beheld you,” he said, looking upon her lovely, flushed face.

She seemed more exasperated than angry. Other women might react differently, and he was relieved she was not the kind to take offense easily. It was almost off-putting to meet the woman behind the letters and see if reality could improve upon the sweet, caring disposition she’d shown through words. He wasn’t disappointed—he was intrigued, for he sensed depths she’d kept hidden from him.

Miss Webster turned to her. “What did you think your husband would be like?” she asked eagerly. “After all, you felt you knew him well from his letters.”

Michael was very curious to know what Lady Blackthorne had told other people about them.

“I will admit, I did not picture his face,” she began slowly.

She avoided meeting his gaze, to Michael’s amusement.

“I just knew he was a kind man, who honored Papa in every way, who was a hero in battle.”

“I am not a hero,” he cut in, ignoring the darkness of memories that so easily welled up inside him. “I did my duty, as did many men.”

Lady Blackthorne stared at him with obvious interest but didn’t ask for an explanation. Perhaps she had too many of her own secrets.

“But she thought you a hero,” Miss Webster said dreamily. “I found it all so romantic.”

Romantic? Perhaps through a young girl’s innocent eyes. It had practically been a business agreement, where Lady Blackthorne received the reward of financial freedom, and he received her gratitude—and the knowledge that he’d assisted the daughter of his late commander. It had been enough for him, but not anymore, now that he’d met her.

“I don’t care how romantic it is,” Appertan said in a bored voice. “I don’t know you, Blackthorne, and your presence in Appertan Hall offends me.”

“Then Lady Blackthorne and I will remove ourselves to the Blackthorne estate,” Michael said.

As his wife gaped at him, Michael calmly took another spoonful of his oxtail soup. It was really quite delicious after army fare and shipboard provisions.

“Cecilia doesn’t even know you!” Appertan answered with outrage. “How could you insist she leave?”

Michael met his gaze. “I am not insisting, Lord Appertan. You are.”

Appertan’s gray eyes narrowed, and his lips twitched, but he obviously couldn’t refute that. “I would never allow my sister to leave with a stranger.”

“And I don’t intend to make her leave her home since I’ll be returning to India soon. But I understand that Lady Blackthorne needs time to become acquainted with me, and I intend to give her that time.”

Her flushed face took on a darker hue, and he wondered if she was embarrassed to be discussed so freely—so familiarly. He already knew she wasn’t a woman given to standing by while others made decisions about her life, and he admired that.

“Very well,” Appertan said between clenched teeth. “I’ll accept that, as long as I never hear Cecilia complain in any way. How long do you plan to remain?”

“My schedule is flexible. Other than visiting my family, there is little I need to do in England.”

“You are so anxious to return to India?” Lady Blackthorne asked. “We experienced much of it as children, including traveling up the country with our father’s regiment. It was hot and wet and unpleasant.”

It could be all of that. But was she so unadventurous? he wondered with disappointment. “The climate has its disadvantages, but the views can be pleasant. All of that is of little consequence to me. I am a soldier for the queen.”

“You’re not an officer?” Appertan asked, looking curious for the first time that evening.

“I am a noncommissioned officer.”

“That makes no sense.” Appertan shook his head. “I would never want to make things so hard on myself.”

No one answered that, and Michael guessed that Appertan made certain nothing was very difficult in his life. How could one not relish a good challenge? That thought momentarily changed the direction of his thoughts, and his gaze slid to his wife. Now she was a challenge.

After several minutes of silence while they continued to eat, Michael said to Appertan, “From what I could see of the grounds during the storm, they look well cared for. Your father would be pleased that you’ve continued his excellent management.”

He shrugged, lounging in his chair. “The servants know their duties. Whatever else comes up, Cecilia is perfectly capable of handling it. It’s not that difficult.”

Michael saw Lady Blackthorne inhale and briefly close her eyes, as if she was embarrassed that Appertan proved his own ignorance. Michael was more and more disturbed every time the young man opened his mouth. He kept remembering the pride with which the late Lord Appertan talked of his son—did he know Oliver at all? Sadness and frustration warred with each other in Michael’s mind, and he knew how disappointed his commander would be, how conflicted Lady Blackthorne must feel, torn between the gentle pursuits of a lady, and the practical concerns of her family estate. He’d begun to think she was a woman too used to controlling everyone around her—even himself—but now he wasn’t so certain.

“You must have an excellent steward yourself, Lord Blackthorne,” his wife said, “considering that you’re hardly ever home. Wait—now I remember that you wrote about your brother handling such duties.”

He couldn’t help the way his gaze swept over her. He was feeling possessive, and defensive on her behalf. “We keep in regular contact. But it is nowhere near the size of the earldom.”

Suddenly, he wondered if other people saw him in the same light as Appertan, both of them peers who allowed others to take control. Much as he knew their situations were vastly different, it bothered him, made him wish there was something he could do to help Appertan see the error of his ways.

“No wonder you agreed to this marriage,” Appertan said.

Michael felt the slur, saw Lady Blackthorne give a start and look away with embarrassment.

Michael regarded him impassively. “I did not accept your sister’s dowry, nor do I have access to her funds. You can be certain I will not abuse her finances.”

Appertan’s contempt seemed to fade into puzzlement, then he shrugged again and started a conversation with Miss Webster about a party they would be attending. Lady Blackthorne finished eating, keeping her eyes on her plate.

At last, Appertan rose and tossed his napkin down. “I’m off to Enfield for the evening.”

Michael was relieved his new brother-in-law didn’t ask him to accompany him. Michael might have to call him on his behavior, not a way to win the young man over.

Miss Webster smiled at her fiancé. “I’m sure Papa has already sent the carriage for me.” She looked back at Lady Blackthorne, and said, “But if you’d like me to stay ...”

His wife smiled. “You mustn’t keep your parents waiting, my dear. Have a good evening.”

When Miss Webster and Appertan had gone, Michael sat back down.

Lady Blackthorne, hands on her armrests as if she meant to rise, paused to ask, “Is there something you wish to discuss, my lord?”

“I have no business asking personal questions of Lord Appertan, but I have some for you if you would humor me.”

She dismissed the footmen, and they closed the doors as they departed, leaving the two of them alone again. She carefully drew her gloves back on. Did she wear them all the time, or did she choose this moment to bow to propriety?

After folding her hands in her lap, she spoke calmly. “I’ll answer what I can.”

“You married me for access to your funds, but from what I’ve been able to see, you aren’t in London enjoying your freedom.”

“I’m grateful for the favor you did me, and I’m using my financial freedom as I see fit.”

“Taking care of your brother and his estate,” he pointed out.

Her shoulders were stiff with tension, and he guessed she wanted to tell him to go to hell—in a ladylike manner, of course.

“My brother is very young, only twenty years of age. He inherited the title at eighteen, while all of his friends were—and still are—enjoying their youth. He needs to experience the same, just like any other young man.”

“So does his steward report to him?”

“He reports to me.”

“And the lawyers and bankers for such a vast estate?”

“They come to me.”

He steepled his fingers, and he saw her glance at his bare hands. “And this pleases you? Do you plan to continue in this capacity?”

“Of course not.” She leaned across the table toward him, and her eyes softened with earnestness. “It’s only temporary, until he’s a bit older.”

He arched a brow in surprise. Was she truly na?ve or just telling herself this? “You don’t think you run the risk of him enjoying your coddling so much that he never behaves as a man?”

“You do not know this family, Lord Blackthorne,” she said mildly.

“I knew your father well. Would this arrangement please him?”

“It would. I respect and admire the long tradition of my ancestors. These grounds and every estate in the earldom deserve the best care, and I’m devoted to them.”

She spoke with such pride and fervor, as if the estates and its people meant everything to her. He admired her devotion, even as he knew she would someday be disappointed with this foolish path she’d chosen. She needed her own life, not that of her brother.

“You must be devoted,” he said quietly, “to beg a stranger to marry you.”

Cecilia knew she was blushing again but couldn’t refute his words. She’d been devoted—and desperate. She had no choice but to go forward and minimize the damage. If she could just outlast his curiosity, surely her lawyers could somehow extract her without her losing everything.

“And Appertan’s guardian?” he asked.

“He is a busy man and trusts me with the day-to-day affairs. Once a month he visits and examines everything. He’s due in less than a week.” She hoped Lord Blackthorne would not ask more—it was none of his business, after all. Lord Doddridge had been Oliver’s idea—handpicked as a friend of their father’s, yet one who was so busy with his own estates and Parliament, he would permit Oliver much leeway. As the new earl, Oliver had been allowed to choose his own guardian, and he’d thought the Hanburys far too rustic to oversee a prominent peer. Cecilia had no such choice and had been stuck with the Hanburys, to the distress of everyone involved—until she’d married Lord Blackthorne.

Lord Doddridge had control of the vast Appertan properties, but he was content to allow Oliver—and hence Cecilia—to oversee its management, as long as he received regular reports. But he held the purse strings tightly, something Oliver hadn’t counted on. She couldn’t explain that she’d been acting in Oliver’s place to her own guardian, so conservative he would have surely contacted Lord Doddridge and ruined everything. She needed access to her own money, another reason to marry a man who would allow her that control.

As if reading her thoughts, Lord Blackthorne said, “I assume you needed your funds because your brother is quick to spend his own on pleasure rather than the estates?”

“You don’t know what his life has been like,” she said in a low voice.

“Regardless, in your opinion, Appertan cannot deal with his own estates, and you do not trust a man of business to do it for you. Does Appertan have any responsibilities at all?”

She leaned toward him, hands braced on the table. “Our father died, and Oliver has suffered with his grief.”

“All while you managed more than your own duties—along with your grief.”

“He is my responsibility, my lord. I gave my promise to my parents that I would see him well. Surely, having a younger brother, you understand that.”

“I do. But you do him no favors in this, madam. You need to rethink his future, and your own.”

“Are you threatening me, Lord Blackthorne?” She was proud of her soft, dignified voice.

“Why would I threaten you?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “I offer my advice as an objective person outside the family.”

“Objective? For right now, you’re my husband. I’m not sure how objective you can be.” Now that he’d seen the impressive castle that was her country home, perhaps he was beginning to realize how much money he’d given up by allowing her her freedom. “Please tell me the truth—why did you marry me? You say you honored my father, but that cannot be the sum of it since you renounced the money I might have brought you. You’re a viscount—you could find a perfectly lovely wife all by yourself.”

“I’m a career soldier, Lady Blackthorne. Until this point, my regiment has been my mistress and wife. I only planned to marry under my own terms, for I needed no heirs, since my brother is perfectly adequate for that task. In that regard, you and I are well matched since you seem too busy to want children, should we not be blessed.”

She blanched, for she never let herself think about children. And she didn’t want him thinking about the creating of children.

“I believe, in marriage, we suit each other’s purposes. You need access to your money ...” His voice faded as he frowned.

“And you, my lord?” she whispered. “What do you need?”

He hesitated, then spoke in a low voice. “I thought I needed to help the children of my commander. I tried to write to you about how much he meant to me, but words are not often my forte. But there was something in your letters, my lady, that called to me in a way I’d never imagined.”

She found herself barely breathing, staring at him, but he did not continue with the words that flattered even as they confused her.

He rose slowly to his feet, reaching for the cane hooked in the arm of his chair even as he cleared his throat. “As for your brother, Lady Blackthorne, I had to express my concerns.”

“Then I hope you can be objective, my lord.” She paused, realizing she could not make a grand exit—he could simply follow her right to their rooms. Modulating her voice, she said, “I know the evening is still young. I will be reading in the drawing room if you wish to join me.”

“I thank you for the invitation, but I am fatigued from the journey. I’ll retire for the evening.”

She kept her breath held, afraid she’d let it out in a big sigh of relief, knowing that most men would insist they retire together. Feeling grateful for his consideration, she said, “I wish you a good evening, Lord Blackthorne.”

They stared at each other, the silence fraught with the new awareness she now associated with him. He bowed his head and left her alone in the dining room. The silent footmen entered as if on cue, and, feeling numb with relief, she watched them work. She’d thought she had everything in hand—she was helping her brother until he was old enough to take over, she was in control of her own money, and had miraculously found a husband who wouldn’t intrude in any way at all, except as a convenient reason she wouldn’t have to tolerate other suitors. She wasn’t going to be like her mother, so desperate to cling to her husband, to make sure he remained faithful, that she dragged her children on military campaigns in a country that ended up being the death of her and her son.

But now Cecilia’s world was starting to unravel. Oliver’s behavior was growing worse instead of better, and her absent husband had decided to involve himself in her life.

And she was fascinated by him—overwhelmingly, completely, helplessly fascinated.

Closing her eyes, she told herself she would get through this. She just had to be patient. Oliver would realize his responsibilities, then she’d be able to trust him with everything their ancestors had built. And Lord Blackthorne had come right out and said he was returning to India as soon as possible, hopefully leaving their marriage as it was.

She would consult her lawyers, but until she received a reply, she had to do her best to steer clear of Lord Blackthorne.

A fter an hour alone in the library, Cecilia reluctantly retired to her bedroom, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Her lady’s maid, Nell, took the hint and asked nothing about the husband ensconced nearby in her apartments. Cecilia knew the girl’s silence would only last so long, but for now she appreciated it. When she was alone, she pressed her ear to the door of the dressing room that separated their bedrooms, but she heard nothing.

At last she crept to her bed, where she read almost until midnight, not feeling the least bit tired. After finishing her novel, she lay down, but her eyes refused to close. Sighing, she put on her dressing gown, picked up a candleholder, and went out into the shadowy corridor. There was supposed to be a lamp lit at each end, but apparently the footmen had forgotten. Shaking her head, she held the candle higher. The library was on the ground floor, and as she approached the main staircase dominating the entrance hall, she slowed her step, for the darkness overtook the cavernous room where the corridor opened out into it, and her tiny candle gave off little light. But she knew every inch of her home well.

Just as she reached the balustrade, her foot hit something hard, pitching her forward into the darkness. The candle went out, her hands flailed for the balustrade, and a feeling of terror overwhelmed her. The bottom seemed to drop out of her stomach as she began to fall.