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Christine avoided looking at her. “You have nothing to fear from the baron, Hannah. I believe him when he says he has nothing but remorse for his actions. He wants to start again, and I think you should give him a second chance.”

“I’d rather kiss a toad.”

“He is coming to pay a call on you tomorrow. And you will see him and listen to what he has to say.”

Without meeting Hannah’s incredulous gaze, Christine retrieved a sheet of paper from a writing desk and chose a pen. Hannah clenched her fingers together, for she knew her mother was composing another list.

“Mother, no,” she pleaded. “There has to be another way. Perhaps I could go to Falkirk with Stephen and Emily.” Her brother would offer her the sanctuary of his home without question.

“They have already left, early this morning,” her mother said. “And your brother has enough to worry about with Emily about to give birth in a few weeks. He doesn’t know what happened last night, and we are not going to tell him until it’s all sorted out.”

Her mother handed her the list, and walked her to the door.

“Now. Go to your room and rest until eleven o’clock.

When you rise, wear your rose silk gown with the high neck and pagoda sleeves.

We will discuss your future over luncheon.

The baron will come to call upon you tomorrow to discuss the arrangements. ”

“I don’t want to see that man again, much less marry him,” Hannah insisted.

“You no longer have a choice. You’d best get used to the idea, for your father is making the arrangements now. You’ll be married within a week.”

After her mother’s door closed, Hannah stormed down the stairs, her shawl falling loose from her shoulders. There was no hope of finding sleep, not now.

With a brief glance at the list, she saw her mother’s orders.

1.

Rest until eleven o’clock.

2.

Wear the rose silk gown.

3.

Drink a cup of tea with cream, no sugar, to calm your nerves.

Hannah read the list three times, her hands shaking. Her entire life, she’d done everything her parents had asked. She had studied her lessons, listened to her governesses and done everything she could to please her family.

It made her stomach twist to see them turn against her this way. Her parents no longer cared about her future happiness—only their reputations.

Though she was supposed to return to her room, she kept moving toward the gardens. Tears of rage burned down her cheeks. All her years of being good meant nothing if she had to wed a man like Belgrave.

The list no longer held the familiarity of a mother’s love, helping her to remember the tasks at hand. Instead, it was a chain, tightening around her neck.

Hannah crumpled up the paper and threw it into the shrubbery. Rules, rules, and more rules. Once, she’d thought that by obeying the rules, her reward would come.

Did her mother truly expect her to wed the man who had caused her such misery? She’d sooner drown herself in the Thames than marry Belgrave.

She stumbled through the garden, the remnants of her headache rising up again. Why? Why did this have to happen to her? Only yesterday, she’d had so many choices before her. Now, she had nothing at all.

Hannah wrapped her arms around her waist, as if holding the pieces of herself together. With each step forward, she released the sobs, letting herself have a good cry. She wandered down the gravel pathway, to the place where she had lost her necklace last night.

Unexpectedly, her hand rose to her throat. The diamonds were there. The lieutenant must have returned the necklace to her early this morning. She didn’t remember him wrapping the strand around her neck, for most of the night had been a blur of pain.

After she’d been abducted, the baron had grown flustered at her illness, demanding that she cease her tears. He’d cursed at her, but she’d been unable to stop weeping.

Then the lieutenant had rescued her. He’d covered up all light, keeping her warm. Not speaking a sound. Holding her in the darkness.

Hannah pulled her shawl around her shoulders. She didn’t know what to think of him. One minute, he’d been her saving grace, and the next, he’d stolen a kiss.

Shielding her eyes against the morning sun, she saw him standing near the stables while a groom readied his horse.

She hadn't known he was still here. Almost against her will, Hannah’s feet moved forward, drawing her closer to the lieutenant.

She didn’t have the faintest idea what to say, or why she was even planning to speak to him.

Lieutenant Thorpe’s hazel eyes were tired, his cheeks covered in dark stubble. The white cravat hung open at his throat, and he held his hat in his hands.

Hannah dipped her head in greeting, and out of deference, the groom stepped away to let them talk. She kept her voice low, so the servant wouldn’t overhear their conversation. “I’m glad my father didn’t murder you.”

Michael shrugged and put on one of his riding gloves. “I’m a difficult man to kill.”

Hannah found her attention caught by his long fingers, and she remembered his bare hand caressing her nape. No one had ever made her feel that way before, her skin sparking with unfamiliar sensations.

She closed her eyes, clearing her thoughts. Then she reached for what she truly needed to say. “I never thanked you for rescuing me. It means a great deal to me. Even despite all of this.”

The lieutenant gave a slight nod, as though he didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t acknowledge the words of gratitude but instead glanced over at the house. “Lord Rothburne said you’re going to marry Belgrave.”

Hannah tensed. “My father is ready to marry me off to the next titled gentleman who walks through the gate.” She stared him in the eyes. “I won’t do it. He’ll have to drag me to the altar.”

“I thought you were the obedient sort.”

“Not about this.” She could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. It wasn’t like her, not at all, but then she felt like someone had taken a club to her life, smashing it into a thousand glass pieces.

Obedience had brought her nothing. And right now she wanted to voice her frustrations to someone who understood.

“Why is this happening?” she whispered. “What did I do that was so wrong?”

“Nothing,” the lieutenant said. His hand started to reach for hers, but he drew back, as if remembering that it wasn’t proper. “Your only fault is being the daughter of a marquess.”

“I wish I weren’t.” Hannah lowered her head. “I wish I were nothing but an ordinary woman. I would have more freedom.”

No lists, no rules to follow. She could make her own decisions and be mistress of her life.

“You wouldn’t want that at all.” The lieutenant gestured toward her father’s house. “You were born to live in a world such as this.”

“It’s a prison.”

“A gilded prison.”

“A prison, nonetheless.” She raised her eyes to his. “And now I’ll be sentenced to marriage with Lord Belgrave. Unless I can find a way out.”

He didn’t respond, but she saw the way his mouth tightened, the sudden darkness in his eyes. “You will.”

“And what about you?” She realized she’d never asked what had happened to him. Surely the lieutenant had faced his own lion’s den, courtesy of the marquess. “What happened between you and my father?”

He hesitated before answering, “My commanding officer will see to it that I stay on the Crimean Peninsula.”

“What exactly...does that mean?” A shiver of foreboding passed through her.

“I’ll be sent to fight. Possibly on the front lines.” He shrugged, as if it were to be expected. But she understood what he wouldn’t say. Men who fought on the front lines had essentially been issued a death sentence without a court-martial. Certainly it was no place for an officer.

She stared at him, her skin growing cold. Though he might be an unmannered rogue who had taken unfair advantage of her, he didn’t deserve to die.

This is your fault. Her conscience drove the truth home like an arrow striking its target. If it weren’t for her, he’d be returning to his former duties.

“You were wounded before,” she said slowly. “With the Light Brigade.”

He gave a nod. “I would have been returning to duty anyway. I’ve made a full recovery.” He spoke as if it didn’t matter, that this was of no concern.

She looked into his eyes, her heart suddenly trembling. “It’s not right for you to be sent away again.”

“I’ve no ties to London, sweet. I always expected to return. It doesn’t matter.” He started towards his horse, but Hannah stopped him.

He was going to lose everything because of her. Because he’d rescued her and taken care of her that night.

“It matters.” She touched the sleeve of his coat, feeling obligated to do something for him. There had to be some way she could intervene with her father’s unnecessary punishment.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he murmured, his eyes centering directly on hers.

“What do you mean?”

“Like you’re trying to rescue me.”

“I’m not.” She lifted her face to his, studying those deep hazel eyes. He was a soldier, trained to strike down his enemies. Right now, he looked tired, but no less dangerous.

“Trust me, sweet. I’m not a man worth saving.” He took her hand in his and, despite the gloves, she felt the heat of his skin. “You’d do well to stay away from me.”

The evocative memory of his stolen kiss conjured gooseflesh on her arms. The lieutenant never took his eyes from her, and Hannah held herself motionless.

It went against everything she’d been taught, to hold an unmarried man’s hand while standing in the garden where anyone could see. He was so close, the barest breath hung between them.

Something wanton and unbidden unfurled from within her, making her understand that Michael Thorpe was no ordinary man. He fascinated her. Tempted her.

And he was right. The daughter of a marquess could never, ever be with a man like him.

At last, she took her hand from his, ignoring the pang of disappointment. It was better for her to stay away from him. He was entirely the wrong sort of man.

Yet he was the only man who had noticed her absence at the ball. He hadn’t stopped to notify her father and brothers but had come after her straight away. An unexpected hero.

The lieutenant’s ill-fitting coat had a tear in the elbow. Shabby and worn, he didn’t fit into the polished world in which she lived. But beneath his rebellious air was a man who had fought to save her.

Would he do so again, if she asked it of him?

“Lieutenant Thorpe, I have a favor to ask.”

He eyed her with wariness. “What is it?”

It felt so awkward to ask this of him. She dug her nails into her palms, gathering up her courage. “If I am forced into marriage with Lord Belgrave, would you...put a stop to the wedding?”

A lazy smile perked at his mouth. “You’re asking me to kidnap you from your own wedding?”

“If it comes to that, yes.” She squared her shoulders, pretending as though she hadn’t voiced an inappropriate request. “I shall try to avoid it, of course. You would be my last resort.”

He expelled a harsh laugh and went over to his horse, bringing the animal between them. Grasping the reins in one hand, he tilted his head to study her. “You’re serious.”

“Nothing could be more serious.” It was an arrangement, a practical way of preventing the worst tragedy of her life. And though it might cause an even greater scandal, she would do anything to escape marriage to Belgrave.

“I have to report to duty,” the lieutenant warned. “It’s likely I would be gone within the week.”

She gave a brisk nod, well aware of that. “Believe me, my parents want to see me married as soon as possible. It’s likely a wedding will be arranged in a few days. I simply refuse to wed Belgrave. Any other man will do.”

“Even me?” He sent her a sidelong smile, as though he, too, couldn’t believe what she was asking.

“Well, no.” She pinched her lips together, realizing that she’d led him to believe something she’d never intended. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“Don’t worry, sweet.” His voice grew low, tempting her once again. “I’ll stop your wedding, if it’s in my power.”

She breathed once again, her shoulders falling in relief.

“I would be most grateful.” Knowing that he would be there in the background, to steal her away from an unwanted wedding, gave her the sense that somehow everything would be all right.

She held out her gloved palm, intending to shake his hand on the bargain.

The lieutenant took her gloved hand in his. Instead of a firm handshake, he raised her palm to his face. “If I steal the bride away,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hand, “what will I get in return?”