Fourteen

Harrison shifted the candlestick to his left hand and rapped the knuckles of his right upon the door of the marquess's bedchamber. He was fully aware that his lordship had returned home in a fretful mood only a couple hours earlier, and then, much sooner than usual, had secluded himself in his private chambers. Under normal circumstances, he would not have disturbed the man, but the courier had advised him the missive was of grave importance. "My lord," he called through the heavy, wooden portal. "A messenger has just arrived from London, bearing urgent news for you."

A loud crash, the splintering of glass, and a smothered curse preceded a gruff request to delay any entrance at the moment. Within the chambers, Colton dragged the sheet over his naked loins as he swung his long legs over the edge of the bed. He doubted that he had closed his eyes even once since he had turned down the wick and snuffed the remaining flame. His mind had been too busy foraging over possibilities that could preclude the continuance of his courtship with Adriana and the legalities that he'd be willing to put into play to halt the termination of their future together. For the life of him, he justcouldn't let her walk away as she now seemed determined to do. His heart would shrivel in sorrow.

With a laborious sigh, Colton threaded his fingers through his tousled hair, looked across the room toward the dancing flames cavorting in the fireplace, and then again at the glass-strewn carpet near his bed. His injured eye was nearly matted shut and undoubtedly would need a bandage if he had to go anywhere.

"Come in, Harrison," he called out, "and make sure you bring enough light to aid you where you step. I've just knocked over a lamp."

"Forgive me for waking you, my lord," Harrison replied as he hurried across the room.

"I wasn't asleep," Colton admitted.

The steward placed the candlestick upon the table and gave the missive over to him. Breaking the waxed closure, Colton unfolded the parchment and, clasping one hand over his eye, began to read the contents of the message as the elder set about cleaning up the broken glass.

Miss Pandora Mayes is near to dying and begs you to come with haste.

"I must travel to London immediately, Harrison," Colton announced. "Tell Bentley to ready the second carriage with the working steeds and bring along another driver. We'll be traveling fast and hard, and I don't want to wear out our best horses. As for the glass, you can clean that up later."

"Shall I pack a satchel or a trunk for you, my lord?"

"A couple of changes of clothes and essentials should I be detained over the weekend. Hopefully, if I am delayed, I'll at least be back by Monday morning."

"That would be nice, my lord. I'm sure your mother would enjoy having you home for Christmas for a change."

"I'll make every effort to return in time."

In less than an hour, Colton was in the coach and being whisked eastward toward London. Shortly after dawn the nextmorning, they reached the outskirts of the city, and from there, Colton directed the second driver to the actress's town house. When finally the conveyance was drawn to a halt before the place, Colton quickly alighted.

"I may be awhile, Bentley," he informed the man who had been slumbering inside the coach. "There's a stable and an inn down the road apiece. Do what you have to do for the animals and get some food for yourselves. Perhaps you can even find a place to rest for an hour or so. If you're not here when I come out, I'll come looking for you at the inn."

"Aye, milord."

At the entrance of Pandora's town house, Colton rapped his knuckles against the solid plank. Eventually it was opened by an elderly, darkly garbed rector. The man seemed somewhat surprised when he noticed the bandage over the younger man's eye.

"Your lordship?"

"Aye, I'm Lord Randwulf. Are you the one who sent the note?"

"I am, my lord. I'm Reverend Adam Goodfellow, rector of the parish church in Oxford where … Miss … ah … Mayes was once christened. She bade me come to London to attend her in these her last hours and asked me to notify you."

"Have you been here long?" Colton inquired.

"I arrived yesterday, my lord, after being sent her note. The surgeon was with her, but left her in my care, having given up all hope of pulling her through."

"May I see her?"

The wizened man swung the door wider and beckoned Colton in. "I'm afraid there isn't much life left in Miss Mayes, my lord. Indeed, sir, I rather suspect she has been holding on merely to see you."

"Then you'd better lead me to her."

"Of course, my lord," the clergyman replied and shuffled about. His stride was no faster, and in the narrow confines of the corridor, Colton felt hindered by the slow progress of the ancient.

"If you'll excuse me, Reverend, I believe I know where her bedchamber is."

"Yes, of course," the man replied with a meaningful inflection. Flattening himself against the wall of the narrow passageway, he swept a hand before him in an invitation for the younger man to pass.

Colton did so quickly and, upon reaching the far end of the hall, pushed open the door on the right. The bedroom was lit by the meager glow of a single oil lamp sitting atop a bedside table. Residing like a pale wraith in the bed that he had shared with her numerous times was the actress whom he had not seen for at least nine months. In the scant light, her eyes seemed nothing more than dark shadows hollowed out in a death mask. Her cheeks were sunken, her lips ashen. The vivacious bloom that had once brightened them was no longer evident.

Although seemingly entombed in the dark gloom, a plump, frizzy-haired woman of perhaps thirty or more sat in a chair in a corner of the room. Her blouse had been pulled aside an ample breast at which a tiny newborn nursed, but it was her slovenly appearance that made Colton mentally cringe.

Colton approached Pandora's bedside with silent tread, and as he drew near, her lashes fluttered slowly open. A faint trace of a smile curved her lips as her eyelids hovered droopingly over hazel orbs.

"Col… I'm glad you've come. I was so afraid you wouldn't," the actress rasped, as if thoroughly spent. She managed a frail smile and then peered at him more closely, noticing his patch. "Did you lose your eye in the war?"

"No, I merely got something in it last night." A lovely vixen's handbag.

Pandora reached out a slender hand toward him. "Sit beside me."

Colton lowered himself to the edge of the bed and, gathering her hand close against his chest, leaned forward to search the darkly shadowed eyes. At one time the hazel orbs had sparkled with life and seemed vividly alive, but now their lackluster seemed part of the darkness that encircled them, visuallyforetelling her approaching doom. "I came as soon as I could, Pandora. What ails you?"

"You … have … a daughter, my lord," she rasped weakly. "You … planted … your seed … within me … the last time … you were here."

The shock of her statement filled Colton with cold dread. Almost as suddenly his mind became inundated with visions of Adriana. "But … but you said you weren't able to have any children. You swore to me you couldn't!"

"Ahhh,that was before you came along," she managed, a frail smile sketching across her pale lips. "Took … a bold man to do the deed … but you … were he…."

Colton was stricken by remorse. "And you're dying now because of my seed?"

"Oh, you." Pandora tried to laugh, but quickly forsook the notion, too exhausted to exert herself to that extent. "You needn't blame yourself. ‘Twas a difficult birth."

Colton reached out and smoothed the limp, curling hair away from the ashen cheeks. "I know several knowledgeable physicians living here in London. My family has used them enough to verify that their reputations are above reproach. I'll send my driver to fetch one."

She lifted a hand to halt him. "‘Tis far too late for me, Colton. I've lost too much blood, but … there … is one … thing … I would ask of you."

"What is that?" He held his breath, fearful of her request. Even before they had ever made love, he had warned Pandora that he would never marry her. With far more to lose now than ever before, he couldn't bring himself to even contemplate capitulation to that request.

Her dull eyes pleaded with him for a long moment before she issued an appeal. "Let … the Reverend Goodfellow … say the … words over us … ere I die … Colton."

Throughout his career as an officer, Colton had gone to great lengths to avoid wedlock, especially with ambitious women. In spite of his tiff with Adriana, she was the only onehe had ever wanted to marry. Jolted by a sharp aversion brought on by the actress's appeal, he gave no heed to the words that spilled from his lips. "But I'm as good as promised to another…."

"I will die … tonight, Colton. Would … there be … any harm … in allowing me … some peace of mind in my last hours?"

He remained taciturn, unable to commit himself when marrying the woman would likely mean that he'd be losing Adriana.

"Please, Colton … I know … you explained … how you wouldn't marry me … but I'm … I'm begging you … for my sake and for our child…."

Colton felt a prickling along his nape. His instincts urged him to use extreme care in making any decisions. "What is to become of the child?"

The woman's thin lips twisted ruefully. "I would … ask that … you take her … home with you … and be a … good father to her. You will … in time … come to … see how much … she favors you. She …" Pandora swallowed with difficulty, and it was a long moment before she gathered enough strength to continue. "Although I haven't … been with another man, I know … you need proof … that she … is yours. As you will see … our daughter … has a … purplish birthmark … upon her backside … just like her father."

She gestured rather lamely to the woman in the corner. "Alice … has been … cleaning the theatre … for some time now. She lost her newborn … only yesterday … and has consented to watch … over mine."

Thus bidden, the scruffy woman rose from the chaise and brought the infant forward. Halting beside Colton, she seemed to smirk as she took the child from her breast, making no attempt to cover the large-nippled, blue-veined, filth-crusted melon as she turned the newborn over. Uncovering the tiny rump, she thrust the girl's buttocks close to the lamp and, with a grimy finger, pointed to the identifying mark.

Colton's heart sank. As often as he had glimpsed reflections of himself in mirrors he had passed while striding nakedacross a room, he knew for certain the dark splotch had the same shape as the one he had been born with; his father had had one and his grandfather before him. The presence of the birthmark seemed to confirm the child was his, yet he wasn't ready to accept what he saw at face value. After all, its presence endangered whatever future he had with Adriana, and as much as he had first balked at that idea upon his return home, the very thought of losing the girl now aroused within him a desire to escape the trap into which he now found himself plummeting. Although the identifying birthmark looked genuine, he couldn't resist testing its authenticity by rubbing a thumb across the baby's hind part to make sure it hadn't been deftly applied using the grease paint of an actress.

Alas, his efforts to wipe away the stain proved to no avail. If indeed a fake, then it had been crafted by a gifted artist, for the purplish splotch seemed genuine.

Loath to commit himself to what Pandora was asking of him, Colton remained expressionless as the nursemaid returned to her chair. A part of him compelled him to do the right thing by the child. After all, if the birthmark was authentic, she belonged to a long line of Wyndhams, of which he was the last and only hope for the continuance of the name. He certainly didn't want to have any of his offspring, even one begotten in the heat of lust with an actress, reduced to a pitiful state as an outcast of society, but there was also a side of him that urged caution. If he yielded to Pandora's plea and she didn't die, then he'd be forever bound to her, and that had never been his intent.

"Reverend … Goodfellow …"—Pandora's words were now nothing more than frail gasps as she lifted a hand and feebly indicated the rector—"said any bastard child … is forever doomed…. He also … said … I couldn't … be absolved … of my sins … unless I marry the father of my babe."

Colton might've argued the latter point with the man had he been of such a mood, yet that was far from the issue now raging in his mind. At the crux of what was eating at him was the quandary: whether to do the noble thing or leave a daughter ofhis to suffer the stigma of being born a bastard whelp throughout her lifetime. Could he condemn an innocent to such a fate? He and Pandora had known what they had been about when they had indulged their passion, but the child, as innocent as she was, would be the only one to carry the burden.

"I'm … dying, Colton … help me," she gasped pitifully. "I don't want to burn in hell…."

Had his father been alive, Colton knew the elder would have had just cause to give him a stern lecture on the follies of a man sowing wild oats and then having to reap the harvest of foolish behavior. Now here he was, facing a decision he had once deemed totally out of the question. As many warnings as he had given to those he had bedded, those admonitions now seemed as dust underneath his feet.

Colton sighed heavily. "Though I've had little experience in getting married, I believe a license is required."

Reverend Goodfellow stepped forward with a hand clasped to his chest. "In my years as a rector, I have counted myself fortunate to have been in various positions wherein I was able to do some notable favors for those in higher positions. As a result, I have been able to obtain for Mistress Mayes a special license from His Grace, the archbishop. Only your signature is required, my lord…."

Colton realized there was still a bit of rebellion in him. "The devil you say!"

The elderly man peered at the nobleman curiously, trying to determine what had incensed him. "The documents must be signed and witnessed, my lord. Have you aught against solidifying the nuptials with your signature? Or is it that you do not wish to marry the mother of your child?"

The trap was closing in around him; Colton could feel it choking off his hopes and aspirations like some dark, unseen hand at his throat squeezing off the life-giving air or, more accurately, all the joy from his future. His greatest regret was his beautiful Adriana. When it meant losing the woman he had come to desire with his whole being, he was averse to rectifying

his imprudence even for the sake of the child. How could he even hope that Adriana would marry him after this?

No sound came from the bed, and Colton glanced around to find the actress's eyes closed, her breathing shallow.

" 'Twould seem you have little time to remedy the matter, my lord," the rector surmised. "Mistress Mayes is near to dying."

Colton felt a pervading coldness spreading through his being. Venting a laborious sigh, he muttered none too happily, "I will marry her."

"And the child? Will you be taking her home with you?"

"She'll be raised as my own," Colton avouched with an equal lack of enthusiasm.

It seemed but a brief moment had passed before the marriage vows were being uttered, feebly by Pandora and rather brusquely by Colton. Needless to say, he felt like a wayward lad who had been caught in a trap of his own making.

"The wet nurse informed me earlier that she'd be willing to take care of the child if you wish her to go home with you, my lord. Does that meet with your approval?"

That idea pleased Colton about as much as getting married, but he could see no way out of that predicament at the present moment. " ‘Twould seem I have little choice if the child is to be nourished."

As the rector gestured for the wet nurse to gather up the baby's belongings, Colton found his stomach churning at the overt crudity of the woman. Making no attempt to hide her oversize breast, she laid the tiny nursling aside and rose to her feet. When she noticed Colton eyeing her, she gave him a wide, rotten-toothed grin and, wiping a finger over her dribbling nipple, pushed the digit in and out of her mouth suggestively, making much of her enjoyment as she slowly licked the finger.

Colton felt his stomach roil and turned away in sharp repugnance. He had been propositioned before, many times in fact during his years as an officer, but he seriously doubted such an invitation had ever come from a more repulsive creature. He could only wonder at the men who'd been of a mind to bedsuch a disgusting crone, but he promptly recalled having seen a fair number of males who'd probably have made the crone look like a saint.

"Her name is Alice Cobble, my lord," the rector announced, drawing his attention back to the woman. "She said her husband was killed in the war, so she has no one now. For her wages, she'll require no more than a tuppence or two besides her keep. I have every confidence that she'll serve the babe well."

Of one thing Colton was sure, he had never seen a filthier creature in all his life, nor was he looking forward to the idea of enduring her presence in his carriage on the long ride home, for the foul odor emitting from her body was so offensive it set his stomach awry. Her frizzy hair was definitely in need of a good washing; it stuck out in oily spikes from underneath the ragged kerchief tied around her head. Even now, she made no effort to cover her naked breast, as if she were actually flaunting it for his benefit. The fact that the babe had nursed at anything so filthy made him wonder just how soon he'd be able to find a replacement for the woman after reaching home. He hoped fervently it wouldn't take very long.

Colton turned back to Pandora and realized her strength was rapidly ebbing. Gesturing to her, he asked the rector, "Can you not help her?"

The man stepped to the bed and pressed his fingers against the actress's wrist. Then, with a pensive sigh, he withdrew and sadly shook his head. "I doubt your wife will last the hour, my lord."

"I will stay with her."

"There's really no need, my lord. She'll be gone soon enough, and if you tarry, your coach will likely be overtaken by soldiers who've come home to find work scarce and vittles beyond their ability to earn. They've been gathering into bands in the city, and are creating havoc in retaliation for being casually dismissed by the governing bodies of this country—in other words, the aristocrats who are enjoying wealth beyond measure while the common soldiers are starving."

"I've fought alongside many of those men and can sympathize with them. I'm willing to take my chances. I wouldn't want Pandora to die alone."

"I'll be here, my lord."

"Just the same, I will sit with her," Colton rejoined resolutely. "I've never been a husband before, but I'm of the opinion that a man shouldn't desert his wife when she's dying."

"You're right, of course," the rector admitted. "I was merely thinking of your safety."

"No need. I've faced greater dangers than rabble-rousers in my lifetime and have learned to take care of myself."

"Yes, the young woman spoke of your bravery under fire."

"Col…" a weak voice called from the bed.

"I'm here, Pandora," Colton assured her. "I'm not going to leave you."

"I only ask … that you be … a … good … father … to our daughter…."

With that request, she closed her eyes and ceased her breathing.

Reverend Goodfellow checked her pulse and then solemnly lifted the sheet up over her head. "She's dead, my lord."

Colton heaved a remorseful sigh over her passing and then rose to face the elderly man. Reaching into an inside pocket of his coat, he withdrew a purse heavily weighted with coins and pressed it into the man's hands. "This should be enough to pay for the special license and to see that Pandora is buried in a respectable place with a proper headstone to mark her grave. Her daughter will in time want to know where her mother has been laid to rest. Where may I find you after I settle my affairs at home?"

"I have a small rectory on the road to Oxford, my lord," the man replied. "Your wife shall be buried there." Shaking out the coins into the palm of his hand, he stared at them in amazement. "You've been most generous, my lord."

"Buy food for the soldiers with what is left over. I'm sure you know a few since so many were required to win the war," Colton urged. Turning on his heels, he motioned rather unenthusiastically for the wet nurse to follow as he took his leave. The woman secured the baby more firmly in one arm and hefted a small, tattered satchel in her free hand before complying.

Colton had assumed that it would be difficult telling his mother what he had done, but he had never imagined she would collapse upon hearing the news. Only his quick action saved her from hitting her head upon a marble-topped credenza. With Harrison scurrying in front of him, opening doors as he called for Philana's personal maid to run ahead of them, he had carried his mother to her chambers where he had laid her gently upon her bed. As her maid bathed her face with a cool, wet cloth, Philana slowly revived, but upon remembering what had caused her trauma, she groaned and laid a trembling hand over her eyes.

Colton quietly bade Harrison to go downstairs and show Alice Cobble to the nursery. "And have one of the servants instruct that woman on the importance of bathing and washing her hair," he added in a muted tone. "If she refuses, she'll have to answer to me. If not for the child, I wouldn't tolerate that filthy creature's presence in my house under any circumstances, so I urge you to lay down the usual ultimatums for women who work in this house."

"Yes, my lord."

When the door closed behind the steward and the maid, Philana rolled her head upon her pillow and looked at her son through a blur of tears. "I was so in hopes you'd marry Adriana," she choked miserably. "All these many years she has been like a second daughter to me. I cannot bear to think of losing her. Neither Sedgwick nor I wanted to consider how we'd ever cope if you married another. Now my greatest desire has been dashed."

Colton squeezed the slender, blue-veined hand consolingly, but could offer his mother no comfort in that area. Although Adriana and he were not even betrothed yet, he couldn't expect her to ignore his indiscretion, especially after their recent confrontation. He could summon little optimism that she'dtake this recent news well. To his parent, he could only say, "I will talk to her."

"I fear ‘twill do no good," Philana whispered sadly. "In truth, I don't know if she'd be able to bear the shame. ‘Twould take a grand lady indeed to subject herself to the sympathetic stares people would be inclined to bestow on her should she marry you. It would've been difficult for me; how can I expect another woman to overlook such humiliating circumstances?"

Charles greeted Lord Colton decorously at the front door of Wakefield Manor on Christmas Eve. "I'll tell her ladyship that you're here wishing to see her, my lord."

"Is there someplace where we can talk without being disturbed?"

The butler was aware of the altercation that had occurred between the marquess and the lady and could understand the man's request for privacy. "If you'll go to the library, my lord, I shall inform Lady Adriana that you're awaiting her presence there. ‘Tis unlikely you'll be interrupted since Lord Standish and Lady Christina went to the Abernathys' to take presents to the children. I believe they had planned on staying for a time, at least until Lady Adriana went to join them."

"Thank you, Charles."

Colton made his way down the hall to the specified room and entered its confines. His heart was truly heavy, and he could rally little enthusiasm for the task ahead. Then, too, after their last squabble, he wouldn't put it past Adriana to have Charles convey her regrets.

Once again, he found himself standing before the portrait of the Sutton ladies, but there was only one face among the four he cared to consider, the dark-haired goddess whom he now feared he was about to lose. After all his past objections to his father's decree and the stilted reserve he had somehow managed to convey during his courtship with Adriana, he was filled with a cold dread that after his recently coerced marriage, she would banish him from her presence and never let him see her again.

In the past few hours, it had dawned on him that he'd never feel complete as a man without Adriana as his wife. Fearing she'd reject him, he had found himself struggling to overcome an ominous sense of defeat in his personal life, the like of which he had never experienced before, not even when the enemy had managed to gain the upper hand on the battlefields.

"You wished to see me?" a silky voice queried from the entrance.

Colton's heart leapt with relief, and he turned with a hopeful smile, but it became immediately apparent that Adriana was in no mood to return it. He moved toward her. "I was desperate to talk with you about some matters."

"If it's about the other night, I have nothing more to say," she stated coolly, crossing to the fireplace. Turning her back to him, she stretched her slender hands toward the fire in an effort to warm them, for her fingers had turned to ice as soon as Charles had made the announcement that Lord Randwulf had arrived and was wishing to see her. No one knew how difficult it was for her to remain aloof from the man; already he seemed an intrinsic part of her. Dismissing him from her life would be similar to severing a limb or, more truthfully, squeezing the very life from her heart.

"I acted badly," she admitted over her shoulder, "and for that, I must apologize, but I meant every word I said. I cannot go on hoping that you'll eventually change your mind and come to want me as your wife. ‘Twill mean less anguish for me if I separate myself from you now and go on about my life as if you had never returned."

"Although you may have difficulty believing this, Adriana, I am most desirous of having you as my wife."

She turned with a brow arched at a skeptical angle and saw for the first time the dark bruise around his eye. She hadn't realized she had hit him so hard, but for that she would apologize later. For now, she was intrigued and wished to delve more thoroughly into his statement. "When did this come about?"

"Actually, I've been aware of it for some time now, but havefoolishly been putting off acknowledging that fact. Once upon a time, I was repulsed by the idea of having my life laid out by the contract and betrothal to which my parents had committed me. Yet, as much as I wanted to rebel against our courtship, I found myself wanting … nay, needing you."

Adriana wanted to smile with joy, but the grim expression on his face made her wary. "Has something happened?"

Colton heaved a laborious sigh and turned aside, scrubbing the palm of one hand against the knuckles of the other. "Sadly enough, an event has occurred that has left me doubtful that you'll accept my proposal of marriage."

Adriana was suspicious of his intent and yet immensely curious. If he meant to cast the blame on her for rejecting their nuptials, she could only wonder how he would go about it. "Go on. I'm listening."

Colton brushed a hand over the elaborately carved wood adorning the tall back of a Tudor chair, feeling terribly out of sorts with what he had to tell her. He was certainly not proud of it. "I was called to London the other night, and there found that a woman I had known for some years had given birth to a child."

Suddenly Adriana's knees went weak. Stumbling to the nearest chair, she sank to its tapestry seat. Her insides had grown cold with dread, and as she clutched the ornate wood on either side of her, she waited for him to continue, to tell her that the child was his and not some stranger's. "Are you in love with her?"

Colton half-turned and peered at her, amazed that she already knew what he was going to tell her. Her head was bowed, the tendons in her hands stood out rigidly as she gripped the arms of the chair. Her slender shoulders had slumped forward, already conveying an attitude of defeat. "No, not really. She was merely an actress I had … ah … visited now and then. She once told me she was unable to have children…."

"How do you know for certain the child is yours?"

A heavy sigh slipped from his lips. "I have a birthmark onmy backside, which I inherited from my father, and he from his father before him, and so on. Actually, I believe it originated many years ago with a Viking. It's shaped rather like a flying seagull."

"Yes, I've seen it."

He turned with a curious brow raised. "You have?"

"The night you interrupted my bath."

His lips compressed in a soundless O.

" 'Twould seem the presence of such a birthmark on your offspring is convenient for the actress, but not so convenient for you. Do you intend to marry her?"

"Reverend Goodfellow from Oxford spoke the words over us while I was there."

Adriana could only stare in mute defeat at her lap. So acutely did she feel the heaviness of her heart that she found herself suddenly heaving, threatening to throw up the bitter bile from her empty stomach. She had been unable to eat because of the anguish of separating herself from Colton, and now she was paying for it. She wanted to die in mortification when he rushed forward to lend assistance, but she shook her head and then abruptly clasped a hand over her mouth as her stomach convulsed.

"Step outside a moment," he urged, slipping an arm beneath her shoulders and dragging her up against him. "There's a nip in the air. It will help settle your stomach."

Adriana had no strength to refuse his directive or aid and allowed him to whisk her outside.

"Breathe deeply," he advised, holding her close. "‘Twill help."

She complied, not because he had bade her to, but for her own good. What little dignity she had remaining would be better served if she could dispense with her queasiness and send the man on his way. Yet it was some moments before she had enough strength to push herself free from him. As she tottered haphazardly back into the library, he followed close behind and reached out a hand to steady her as she reeled, but she avoided his touch as if he had contracted the plague.

" 'Twould be better if you leave now," she said stoically after slipping back into her chair. "Now that you're a married man, we shouldn't be alone together. Please go. I would feel better if you did."

"I'm a widower, Adriana," he stated, stressing that declaration. "Pandora died before I left her town house."

"And the child?"

"She is with a wet nurse at Randwulf Manor."

"I see."

"I couldn't very well leave her alone in the world."

"No, of course not. You did the right thing. She'll have all the advantages you can afford."

"Adriana …" He laid a hand upon her shoulder.

She lifted her gaze solemnly to his. "Yes?"

When he saw the painful sadness dulling her beautiful eyes, remorse dragged his spirit down into the depths of a dark abyss with chains more weighty than he seemed able to bear. If anyone had ever denied there could be a hell on earth, then in that moment he was sure he could have proven them wrong. "Can you possibly forgive my mistakes and accept me as your husband?"

Once upon a time, Adriana might have heard those same words and been jubilant beyond measure, but now she could hardly manage a frail smile. "I shall have to consider your proposal at some length before I can give you an answer, Colton. Until then, I have no other recourse but to consider myself entirely free of any commitments to you and to the contract our parents signed. Your marriage to another woman has terminated that agreement."

His heart had never felt so heavy. "Will you allow me to come back tomorrow?"

"No, you'd better not. I need to be alone for a time and think about my future. As much as I love your family, I'm not at all sure I want to marry you now."

"Have you come to hate me in so short a time?"

"I don't hate you, Colton, but I must consider that prior to

fatherhood, you showed no real interest in me as your wife. It seems a bit late now for a proposal of marriage. If you had wanted me, you should've shown some evidence of that during the past two months, but you didn't."

"I've been interested in you ever since I came back," he protested in desperation. "I can't even think of anyone but you. You haunt my dreams at night, and I wake wanting you beside me, yearning to have you with me every moment of the day."

"Nevertheless, your actions led me to believe that you were unwilling to accept me as your wife. Now I feel a reluctance to consider you as my husband. I must be given time to think through your offer in depth and ponder what my feelings toward you now are. In the meantime, if you'd kindly refrain from visiting me, I would then be able to determine my desires and hopes for the future without being unduly swayed one way or the other." She swept a slender hand toward the door. "You can find your own way out."