The Masked Heart

Chapter Fifteen

"Would you like some more tea, mum?" Romulus held the teapot aloft.

If Blaine hadn't been so apprehensive over the coming of night, she would have laughed at the picture of the enormous ruffian holding the delicately painted teapot. The two brutes, incongruously named Romulus and Remus, might have been Stoddard's hirelings but they had been offended by his treatment of a little old lady. Touched in some deep corner of their black hearts, they had become Blaine's champions. Unfortunately, they drew the line at setting her free.

"Perhaps later, Romulus. It was very good tea," she said, careful not to overdo the quaver in her voice as he returned to the kitchen.

Romulus and Remus were twins who had been born in the back of a tavern and would most probably end their days at the end of a rope. She could tell them apart by the scars on their faces, blunt reminders of the violent lives they led. Romulus, the younger by ten minutes, bore a long slash from the tip of one eyebrow to the edge of his jawline. He had told Blaine quite proudly that the blade of the knife had broken clean off when it hit the jawbone. Romulus was her favorite for he had a cheerful verbosity not exhibited by his more taciturn brother.

Remus, whose face was marked by myriad scars and abrasions, generally spoke in a single word or a grunt which one could interpret as one pleased. He had not been as forthcoming as his brother, but Romulus had explained that his reticence was due solely to shyness and not to dislike.

Blaine leaned her head back against the cushions of the chair as she debated how soon Stoddard would return. She had been lucky so far in her jailors and, despite her apprehension, she could view their arrival at the cottage earlier with some amusement.

Stoddard had waited until the men had brought her into the parlor of the cottage before he had ordered them to tie her. Blaine was terrified that, despite her costume, her identity would be discovered if the men handled her. She clutched her heart and staggered to the nearest chair, thankfully one well cushioned, where she gave her finest performance as a shocked and feeble old lady. Apparently her pitiable cries were sufficiently moving, because the two men refused to tie her up.

For a heartstopping moment, Blaine thought Stoddard would tie her himself. She held motionless as he stood over her. His face was red with anger, and his hands were clenched at his sides. She had little need to pretend to have difficulty catching her breath, since it wheezed and rattled in her throat from fear. She must have looked pathetic enough to convince him she was harmless, for, with an oath, he stormed across the room and slammed out the door of the cottage.

She pretended to a slow recovery, giving herself time to examine the room. It was decorated in a very feminine style, slightly overdone, and had the definite look of a cottage used only infrequently. She assumed Stoddard either rented or owned the little lovenest.

Her eyes roamed the room, but, other than a very large Oriental vase which she marked for possible use, it yielded up nothing by way of a weapon. Even the hearth was disappointingly barren of either a poker or shovel. It did however give her an idea. Behind her veil, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the giants doing their best to press themselves into the woodwork.

"Boys," she called in her frailest voice. "Would it be possible to have a bit of a fire? My bones are quite chilled and I fear an inflammation of the lungs might set in."

She was decidedly cheered when, after a whispered conference, the two men agreed. She watched as they traveled back and forth from the kitchen bringing bundles of sticks and then laid the fire. Although she was glad of the heat, they had cleaned up meticulously and she was no closer to the possession of a weapon than she had been before.

After a trip to the necessary, with her embarrassed guard of honor shuffling nearby, Romulus suggested tea and she accepted eagerly. They presented the tea in a none-too-clean mug, cautioned her to behave herself and then retired to the kitchen. Keeping one eye on the kitchen and the other on the door which Stoddard had used, she loosened her veil and drank down the reviving brew while warming her hands on the mug. She refastened her veil and smoothed out her skirts, feeling fortified for the coming events.

Stoddard did not return and Blaine used the opportunity to make friends with Romulus and Remus. After minimal success in discovering where she was, she did learn that the men did not work for "his bleedin' lordship" but had been hired for the day. Stoddard had told them he was planning to elope and, when they discovered he was actually kidnapping an old lady for blackmail, they were offended, clearly disgruntled at such an affront to their personal code of honor and truth. It was due to their dudgeon, that they felt justified in entertaining her with the stories of their lives.

The kitchen door squeaked, bringing Blaine out of the contemplation of her disastrous day. Romulus entered with a lamp, followed by Remus carrying a small bundle of wood. She noted the shadowy corners of the room with a sinking feeling. It would be full dark soon and she knew Stoddard would return.

"Would you like me to build up the fire, mum?" Romulus asked as he placed the lamp on the table beside her chair. "My brother thought as how you might take a chill."

"You are both very thoughtful boys," she said. "I didn't mention it at the time but I am sure it was a sad day when your mother died."

Remus grunted as he handed his brother a bundle of wood.

"That it was." Romulus shook his unkempt head and hunkered down on the hearth. "We was glad to be with her though. They had sprung us from Newgate just two days 'fore she was took. It was the gin what got her. Just you have a care, mum, and stay away from Blue Ruin."

"I shall heed your words, young man."

"Ma were only a mug short o' the tavern record, when her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell over dead."

Remus grunted twice to indicate he was moved by the memory.

A silence fell over the room in respect for the much-lamented woman. Blaine closed her eyes and gingerly rested her head against the back of the chair, being careful not to disarrange her hat. She had tried not to think of the possible consequences should Romulus and Remus discover that she was not a little old lady. Their gentle treatment, thus far, did not fool her. She had heard enough to know that they were cruel and dangerous men. If they discovered she had tricked them into believing she was old and frail, they would be ruthless in their revenge.

The outside door slammed against the wall and Talbott Stoddard stormed into the room. Blaine sat up straight, placing her cane directly in front of her feet. Her pulse pounded in her throat and she swallowed convulsively as the blond nobleman glared at her.

"Get out, you two," he snarled.

Romulus and Remus hesitated, then shrugged in resignation as they went out to the kitchen. Stoddard kicked the door shut and walked across the room. He threw himself in a chair across from the prim figure in black and eyed the fire with disfavor.

"All the comforts of home and hearth, eh."

"Not quite, Lord Stoddard," she said. "Have you come to your senses? Will you take me back to Portman Square?"

"Not, Lady Yates, until I have the information I want!"

"Surely, you do not think I will just hand my niece over to you?

"That is exactly what I think. I have been walking around trying to figure just exactly what might induce you to listen to reason. I believe that I have discovered the answer."

Blaine tensed at the tone of his voice. There was a gloating quality that warned her that the man was done playing games. Through the veiling, she observed the casualness of his pose, which gave the same intimations of danger as a snake sunning on a rock. He was a handsome man, almost beautiful, with his golden curls and fine featured face. She contrasted him to Drew whose face was all angles and planes. There was little comparison.

Stoddard lacked the laugh lines in the corners of his eyes and the hint of a smile that always lurked on the edge of Drew's mouth. He was just as tall and lean but his body lacked the masculinity that radiated from Drew's body. But most of all, he did not possess the qualities that Blaine loved in Drew. Stoddard had neither heart nor soul.

"I grow weary of threats from a person of such insignificance and low morals." Her scornful voice was filled with contempt. She was pleased by the flush of color that rose to his face but she knew her victory would be short-lived.

"It is not a threat, old lady! It is a promise!" he shouted.

Stoddard slammed his fist on the arm of his chair, pleased when the woman flinched in fear. He had had enough of her viperous tongue. He had no need to lose his temper. Soon, he would have her begging him to take La Solitaire off her hands.

"Now, madam, this is my proposition." Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his legs and smoothed the material with his long fingers. "I am quite willing to take you back to Portman Square or anywhere else for that matter. I am convinced, you will be more than willing to make me known to Blaine, once you have the opportunity to consider the alternatives."

"The alternatives?"

"Your niece Fleur is an enchanting child. If I cannot have La Solitaire then I will have to be content with second best. I believe I will take great pleasure in bedding the virginal Fleur."

"You Devil!" Blaine hissed.

Tears of fright started in her eyes as she realized at what risk she had placed her sister. Even knowing the foulness of Talbott Stoddard, she was still appalled at the depths to which he would sink.

A smile of derision crossed Stoddard's face. In the dim light he was able to see the slumped shoulders of the figure in black. He had won! "Well, madam?" he prodded.

Blaine knew when she was beaten. If she had only herself to consider, she would have fought to the death. She knew in her heart, she would never survive, if anything happened to Fleur. The thought of the price she would pay, meant little as compared to her sister's safety. The girl must be spared. Once her decision was made, Blaine pulled herself up in the chair. She might have lost the war but they still had to settle the terms of surrender.

"The game is yours, Lord Stoddard."

In the silence that followed her capitulation, the hinges of the door squeaked loudly as the outside door swung open. At the noise, Stoddard turned his head sharply and then leaped to his feet. For Blaine, no guardian angel or cherubic messenger could look as much like a vision of heaven as the figure in the doorway.

"Although I am reluctant to contradict a lady," Drew said, bowing gallantly, "I believe the game is mine."

"Damn your eyes, Farrington!"

"Don't make a move, Stoddard. I would take great pleasure in shooting you."

Seeing Drew's pistol, Stoddard froze but his eyes flashed toward the back of the house and Blaine gasped. She was just about to shout a warning when the kitchen door burst open and the giants emerged. The gun in Drew's hand seemed faint protection from the combined forces of Romulus and Remus.

Drew moved away from the doorway and Sarge, his leathery face seamed with fury, took his place. His hamlike hands were bunched into fists, prepared for the coming battle. The odds were considerably better, Blaine thought in satisfaction. Grinning, she lifted her cane. Now it was three against three.

"Are you well, Blaine? Or should I say, Miss Mason?" Drew asked.

"Just fine, now that you're here, Lord Farrington. I approve of a man who will arrive in the wings in time for his cue."

Stoddard swung around to her, staring in disbelief at the figure in black. Even without Drew's words, he would have recognized the ringing tones of her voice. It was a voice he had listened to, night after night, in a darkened theatre. A voice which had haunted his dreams and filled him with an obsession to possess her.

"La Solitaire," he whispered.

"Your servant, milord." Despite her bulky skirts, Blaine dropped into a graceful curtsy.

The thought that he had had her in his hands all along, sent a shaft of rage through Stoddard's body. He grimaced in fury and the muscles in his neck stood out in cords. "Take them, you idiots!" he shouted to the motionless ruffians.

With a guttural snarl, Romulus and Remus charged. Drew discharged his gun over the heads of the mountain of flesh roaring across the room but neither man checked. Romulus butted Sarge in the stomach with his head, slamming him against the wall with a bone crushing crash. Remus was not as lucky. As the giant rushed him, Drew sidestepped the assault and hit him on the back of the head with the gun he still held in his hand.

Sparing a quick glance for Sarge who was holding his own, Drew shoved the gun in his pocket, stepped over the recumbent Remus and advanced on Stoddard.

As the two men squared off, Blaine hiked up her skirts and ran across the floor to assist the beleaguered Sarge. Owing to the fact that Romulus was considerably younger, the old soldier was having a difficult time of it. She skidded to a stop beside Remus, who was beginning to come around. He was on his hands and knees, shaking his head like a dog with fleas. Gripping her walking stick like a club, she brought it down, wincing at the dull thud as it crashed into the back of his head. The cane shattered and Remus dropped to the floor once again.

She heard a gasp and swung to face Romulus. The giant had Sarge in a necklock but his eyes were on her. She grinned at the offended expression on his face as he surveyed the damage she had done to his brother. Clearly she had sunk in his estimation of the behavior proper for little old ladies. Perhaps it was the loss of attention, for in the next second, Sarge had extricated himself and elbowed Romulus in the stomach. As the man doubled over, Sarge clenched his hamlike hands together and slammed them down on his back. Romulus dropped as if he were poleaxed.

Blaine's hat had tilted to the side and the veiling inhibited her vision so she untied the band at her throat and threw the hat into the nearest corner. Now that Romulus and Remus had been taken care of, she could turn her attention to the other combatants. She snatched up the Oriental vase she had noted earlier, gripping it tightly with her mittened hands and waited for the proper moment to hurl it into the melee.

Up until then, she had been enjoying the fight. She had been filled with excitement to be in the thick of action. Now as she watched Drew and Stoddard, she was sickened and the vase slipped from her nerveless fingers to crash on the floor. Sarge moved to stand beside her. He put his arm around her but she could take little comfort from it.

While she had been fighting, she had thought little of injury. The sight of the blood on the face of the man she loved was agonizing and at every blow he took, she felt pain. She clutched at Sarge's sleeve, her nails biting through the woolen material. Even the fact that Drew was winning, made no difference.

Drew punched Stoddard in the stomach and felt a sweet thrill at the shudder of the man's body. He ignored his own bruises, bent on doing as much damage as he could. A trickle of blood rolled into the corner of his eye and he wiped it away with his sleeve. Stoddard was tiring but Drew hoped he wouldn't surrender yet. He had a driving need to punish him and took satisfaction with every blow. A feint to his right, caught him on the shoulder but he dodged away. As Stoddard fought to keep his balance, Drew brought his arm back and slammed his fist into his jaw. Stoddard stiffened and then slowly crumpled to the floor.

Lip curled in disgust, Drew turned his back on the unconscious figure, searching the room for Blaine. The sight of her worried face above the well-padded costume of Lady Yates, gave Drew a moment of amusement. He blinked at the psyche knot of silvery-blond hair that shimmered in the lamplight, a perfect compliment to her lovely features. He much preferred it to the brown curls of the woman at the Rose and Trellis and hoped that this was her natural color.

Despite her ridiculous costume, she was beautiful. There was a look in her golden eyes that weakened his knees more surely than any of his injuries. Her lips were parted, red and swollen as if she had been biting them. Even in his battered condition, he could feel his body's response to her at the thought of kissing her rosy mouth. He started toward her but the sudden movement sent a searing pain through his ribs. He stopped in his track, narrowing his eyes until the agony passed.

Blaine caught her breath as the expression on Drew's face changed from joy to anger. She moved away from Sarge, crossing her arms over her padded chest as if she could warm the sudden chill of her body. Drew had wanted to come to her, she had seen that but she had also seen the moment he changed his mind. She should have expected such a reaction. She had kept her identity from him, knowing how he would feel about her, once he discovered her background.

In the world into which Blaine was born, an actress was no better than a courtesan. Perhaps she had not known that when she first trod the boards but eventually she had observed the way the gentlemen of the ton treated women of the theatre world. Actresses were playthings, unacceptable in polite society and given little respect. Now in Drew's eyes, she was no longer La Solitaire, an actress he desired. She was, instead, Blaine Margaret Meriweather, a respectable woman who had debased herself by going on the stage. Even the thought that he had wanted to come to her was poor consolation for the pain cutting through her. Even in the crowded room, she felt terribly alone.

"What a dust-up!" Val shouted as he catapulted into the room, followed by Tate who stared around the room in disgust.

"Val! Tate!" Blaine cried. "What on earth are you doing here?"

The boy's face lighted up at the sight of her and he ran across the room to hurl himself into her arms. She took comfort from his presence and tried to pull her mind from her personal agony to deal with her brother. She had taken in his dirt-streaked appearance and, over his head, she cast a questioning glance at her dresser.

"Lord Farrington brought us," Tate said. Assured that Blaine was unharmed, she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Your brother is the hero of this piece, madam," he said. "He followed you here and then returned to London for help."

"What an amazing lad you are, Val," she said. She tipped his head back and smiled at the grubby face turned up to her.

"Jamie helped, too."

"And after all of the terrible things I've said about the boy." Blaine laughed at the affronted expression on her brother's face. "Obviously I owe him an immediate apology. I shall never say another word against him."

"Even if he swaps me for his snake?" Val asked, peeping up at her through his mop of hair.

"Wretched child!"

At a groan from one of the bodies littering the floor, the attention of the party was returned to the devastation of the room. There was very little that had survived the fray. Chairs and tables were splintered and, what few knickknacks there were, lay shattered on the floor. The only item standing, was the table that contained the lamp.

"Oh, I wish Jamie were here," Val sighed, his voice heavy with regret. Then his face brightened as he beamed up at Drew. "You certainly gave him a leveler, Lord Farrington. I saw it all through the window and it was the finest fight I ever saw. 'Course it was also the only one I've seen," he admitted, wanting to be totally honest with his hero.

"I thought I told you to remain with Tate," Drew said.

"Well, I did, at first, but then I considered the fact you had only taken one pistol and I thought you might need the other."

Val reached in his pocket and pulled out the pistol and Drew was torn between wanting to beat the child and wanting to thank him. He gingerly removed the loaded gun from the boy's grimy hand, unloaded it and then threw it to Sarge. The big man grinned as he slipped it into his pocket.

"You definitely need a firm hand, brat," Drew snapped but he clapped the boy on the shoulder to remove the sting from his words. Then looking around the room, he stroked his chin in thought. "I do not quite know what to do for the best."

"You can't turn them over to the magistrate," Blaine blurted out. As all eyes shifted to her face, she blushed. "In the first place, Romulus and Remus were good to me."

"I don't believe it," Drew said in amazement.

"Well, it's true," she said defensively. "They made me tea and lit the fire and... ."

"Oh, I believe that part," Drew interrupted. "Is that really their names?"

Blaine chuckled at the skepticism in his voice. "I swear to you. The one over there is Romulus and the other one is Remus. They're twins. I believe the names were courtesy of a mother with a penchant for Roman mythology and Blue Ruin."

"Devil you say!" Drew laughed aloud as his eyes swung back and forth between the abominable giants. "Surely, madam, you're not pleading for clemency for these ruffians?"

"Yes, I am!" She stamped her foot impatiently. "I would have been in worse case, had they not taken my part. When they are not trying to kill anyone, they are both rather sweet. They've had a very hard life and I am quite sure they will receive no pay for their work today. Besides, their mother has just died and I hate to make things any more difficult by turning them over to the constabulary."

By the end of this breathless defense, Drew's eyes had taken on a glazed look. Blaine ignored him totally and waved Val off to the kitchen in search of Tate. She fixed Sarge with a jaundiced eye and he shrugged in resignation.

"All right, Miss Blaine. There's a cart out back. I'll lug 'em out and put 'em in it. The nag will find her way home. More, I'm not prepared to do."

"Thank you, Sarge. And thank you for your aid in subduing the men. You acquitted yourself well."

"I would say, miss, you did a fair bit. Sorry about your cane," he said, chuckling as he set to work. He reached down with his enormous hands and grasped Romulus by the neck of his coat, dragged him across the floor and out the door.

"What about him?" Drew said, nodding to Stoddard who was still unconscious.

"I don't know." Blaine stared bleakly at the crumpled figure on the floor. After his beating, Lord Stoddard would be twice as eager for revenge. He would take great delight in regaling the ton with the news of La Solitaire and the children would have to live with the dishonor of their name. She had become an actress to protect Val and Fleur from financial ruin, but, by her actions, she had destroyed them. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with a wave of exhaustion. She swayed and Drew grasped her shoulders to steady her.

"Are you all right, madam?"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

"I am uncertain of exactly which of your names to choose. Lady Yates? Blaine Margaret Meriweather? Maggie Mason? La Solitaire?"

"Hush! Val doesn't know." She threw an agonized glance at the door to the kitchen. Then she turned back and caught sight of Stoddard and her shoulders sagged in defeat. "I wanted to keep this from him but there is no way now to keep Lord Stoddard from making it known."

"Would you really have become his mistress?" Drew asked. His voice sounded politely curious but his green eyes were angry.

"Yes." Blaine held his gaze, refusing to feel ashamed.

"I wonder with what he threatened you? Scandal? Bodily injury? I think not. You would never have weakened under such a threat. Dear God, it was Fleur." In his fury, he shook her. "It was Fleur, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Blaine staggered when he released her and stormed across the room. He grabbed Stoddard by his bloody cravat, dragging him to his feet. He shook him like a terrier with a rat. Stoddard's head bobbed like a rag doll's but he finally came to his senses. His eyes were glazed, staring groggily around the room and Drew waited until Stoddard's eyes focused and before he spoke.

"Listen well, you scum," he said in a voice far more chilling for its softness. "If you ever say one word about La Solitaire, Lady Yates or any of the Meriweathers, you will rue the day you were born. If one hint, one rumor, comes to my ears, I will strip you of every penny you possess and make your name anathema in London. Then, Lord Stoddard, I will kill you."

Without another word, Drew pushed him toward the door. He shoved Stoddard outside and followed him, leaving Blaine alone in the empty room. She sniffed back a tear as she surveyed the wreckage of the room. She wondered how soon they could leave for she was weary to death of this pitiful place. After they returned to London, she, Val and Fleur would pack up and return to Wiltshire. Perhaps there she could find some measure of peace, before she left them forever.

Sarge stamped into the room, giving her a sour smile before he reached down for Remus. Like his brother, the enormous giant was dragged across the floor and out the door.

"Tate made us all tea," Val chirped as he wobbled through the door with a tray of mugs.

Blaine looked around the scene of devastation, then raced across to the table and removed the lamp. "Set it here," she said as she placed the lamp on the mantel.

Manfully navigating through the piles of debris, Val plunked the tray down with a grin of triumph. Blaine removed her mittens and shoved them into the pocket of her skirt. Picking up a mug, she sipped slowly and reveled in the warmth that radiated through her body. She had her back to the door but she was aware of Drew's presence, the moment he entered the room. She stiffened as he crossed the floor to join them but she could not resist one quick look to assure herself he had taken no terrible injury.

He had taken time to wash the worst of his injuries. There was a cut on his eyebrow but it was no longer bleeding. His cheek was red and swollen beneath one eye. Aside from a lump on his forehead, near his temple, he was blessedly free of marks. He moved stiffly as he picked up a mug and went to lean against the mantel. She caught her breath at sight of the cut and swollen knuckles of his hand as he raised the tea to his lips. She would have cried out, if Val hadn't spoken.

"Did Lord Farrington tell you about Fleur?"

"If you recall, halfling, I have been rather too occupied to make polite conversation," Drew said .

"Right, sir," Val said, then turned to his sister, smiling broadly. "Robbie came up to scratch!"

"That's a perfectly dreadful expression." It took her a moment to take in the significance of his words but when she did, she smiled warmly. "What incredibly splendid news. What did Fleur say?" she asked Drew.

"I do believe, madam, that your sister will be an extremely damp bride. After a substantial bout of tears, she went on a bit about what an idiot she had been not to have realized that she was in love with Robbie. It would seem that the visit to London was instructive. The frivolous dandy set did not come off well when compared to the solid worth of the landed gentry. She said, and I quote, 'Robbie is the kindest, sweetest and best of friends.' Then she burst into tears. How can she possibly cry so much and still look so lovely?"

He looked totally bemused and, knowing their sister well, Val and Blaine laughed.

"Through it all, Robbie stared at her with a glazed look of adoration that will hopefully remain in place until after the honeymoon. They have decided to be married in Wiltshire and the date for the glorious event is set for next month after the banns have been called."

When he finished, there was silence as the threesome sipped their tea and considered the happy couple.

"How's your eye, sir?" Val asked over the rim of his mug.

Drew reached up to touch the puffiness under his eye. "A bit sore but otherwise fine."

"It's going to be very colorful. A regular painted peeper," Val said with relish.

"Go away, brat. I want to talk to your sister." Seeing the boy's speculative glance, Drew winked. "Sarge is out in the kitchen with Tate. Tell them to be ready to leave shortly."

"Aye, sir" Val said as he carried his cup toward the door.

"And don't come back until I call."

"Spot on!"

Blaine watched the disappearing figure with a feeling of abandonment. She curled her fingers around her mug and stared into the murky liquid. She was worn out, both physically and mentally. She did not want to be alone with Drew, now that she knew how he felt. The thought that he might discover she was in love with him, was too painful to contemplate. She dropped her head to avoid his eyes, swallowing back tears of self-pity. When Drew removed the mug from her hands, she stepped back in apprehension.

Drew observed the droop of Blaine's shoulders and wanted to run to her and take her in his arms. But he was puzzled by her behavior. After the fight with Stoddard, he had been convinced that she returned his love. Could he have misunderstood the flash of emotion in her golden-hazel eyes? Was it possible that she did not share his feelings and would reject his suit? He stared at her in bewilderment.

"Can you not look at me?"

"No," she said lifelessly.

"Why not?"

"I cannot bear to see the contempt in your eyes."

Suddenly everything was clear and Drew was washed by a wave of relief that erased all his doubts. He grasped Blaine's shoulders and shook her until her head came up and she glared at him, her eyes flashing with their usual fire.

"You birdwit!" he shouted. "Can you know me so little that you would think that I could ever look at you with contempt? I love you, you impossible woman! Do you hear me?"

"You love me?"

There was such a look of wonder on Blaine's face that a lump rose in Drew's throat. Her golden-hazel eyes blazed like twin suns and a flush of pink tinted her cheeks like the petals of a rose.

"First I desired you," he said. "I sought La Solitaire with the knowledge that together we would know passion unrestrained. Then, I found a friend in Lady Yates. I sought her out with the awareness that we enjoyed each other's company. In the woman at the inn, I found love, a combination of friendship and passion that will never grow tiresome or boring. I love you," Drew repeated simply and there could be little doubt of his feelings by the worshipful quality of his voice.

Blaine stared up at his dear face. Her eyes locked with his green gaze and together they searched each other's hearts. Pain, loneliness, anger and fear were shared and thus lost their ability to wound. Joy and happiness seeped into the dark places and erased the shadows of despair. Slowly, Blaine slid her arms around his neck, raising her face to accept the kiss that would bind them for all eternity.

Drew kissed her tenderly. His lips were soft, moving on her mouth with the subtle whisper of silk. His arms folded her against his chest where she could feel the beat of his heart echoing her own. She felt as if she had come home and she burrowed against him seeking the security of dreams she had never believed would come true. When he released her, she was content for the moment. They would have years to taste the further joys that had been promised in his kiss.

"Will you accept my offer, Blaine Margaret Meriweather?"

"Are you offering me marriage, Lord Farrington?"

Drew caught his breath, hurt that she would not trust him enough to know he could never offer her less. Brows bunched over narrowed eyes, he glared down at her, snorting as he caught the light of mischief in her golden eyes.

"Baggage!" he roared. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. At the feel of her body, he pushed her away. "What in God's name have you got in there?" he asked, poking at her padded bosom.

"Stop that!" she said, slapping his hand away. "In order to prevent any further attempts to satisfy your curiosity, I will tell you. For your information, sir, it is bed pillows."

"Surely, my dear, we can find a better use for them."

Drew kissed her as a furious blush suffused her cheeks. This time he was not gentle. His mouth took possession of hers with a passion that was all consuming. She was breathless when he released her, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest.

"Obviously, Lord Farrington," she said, her voice disdainful. "I will have to marry you, now that you have taken such advantage of me." She spoiled the effect by giggling and there was such a magical quality to her laughter that Drew was totally entranced.

"If you look at me that way, my darling girl, we shall never leave this dreadful place," he growled. Then surveying the wreckage of the room, he said, "Remember for next time, sweetheart, that we must leave at least one chair standing. I am something of an expert in the field of lovemaking but this devastation may be beyond even my much-vaunted skills."

"Drew!" Blaine quickly raised her hands to her reddening cheeks.

"Come along, girl," he said, tugging her across the room. "Get your hat. We shall round up our merry little band of conspirators for the denouement of our play of the infamous kidnapping of Lady Yates. I would advise you to employ all your acting skills for the benefit of the servants at Portman Square for, I swear to God, Blaine, it shall be your final performance."

"Won't Lady Yates have to appear at Fleur and Robbie's wedding?"

"I absolutely forbid it," he said. Now was definitely the time for firmness.

"But I had such a perfect dress picked out. It was a dark blue brocade... ."

Lord Andrew Farrington ended the argument by the simple expedient of kissing all of the women he loved. The talented and desirable La Solitaire, the sharp-tongued and companionable Lady Yates and the adorable and exasperating Blaine Margaret Meriweather. And finally, for all times, his beloved Lady Farrington.

THE END