young blood

"She's here."

Edmund Nickerson, Earl of Musgrave, barely glanced up from his cards. His expression was an impenetrable mask. "She?" he replied, without so much as the flick of an eyebrow.

Michael O'Shea, Ned's longtime friend, smiled quickly and cleared his throat. The other men at the table didn't seem pleased to have their game interrupted. "Lady Douglas."

Ned didn't immediately push his chair back, excuse himself, and head to her. But he wanted to. "Thank you."

Tonight's ball was one of the first of the Season, even a few weeks premature by most estimates. The weather was hardly agreeable. Beyond the French doors lining the ballroom, the night was overcast and forbiddingly cold. None of the guests would be so gauche as to gather for warmth, but there was something at least somewhat comforting about the halos of candle and firelight.

For his part, Ned had given his word that he would attend a handful of balls this Season, in an effort to appease his parents, who would see the title and estate pass to a distant cousin if Ned didn't marry and produce the obligatory heir and spare. While Ned took his duties seriously, finding a wife had never been all that high on his list of priorities.

Last year, though, the enchanting Lady Douglas had been conspicuously absent from... well, everything, including London. Ned had been very disappointed. He had nearly become entangled with a dancer, a girl his parents definitely would have been incensed about, had they known. Ned had been all too glad to end their casual relationship once he realized that Belinda's beautiful features masked an inner coldness, vanity and selfishness. Oh, she would have been charming, dazzling as a companion, but inside...

And what did that truly matter? After his nursery was set up, at some indeterminate point, care of the children would be handed over to competent staff, and his wife could do as she pleased.

Ned absently excused himself after the hand was finished, lost in his own thoughts, his memories of Lady Douglas.

Mike considered Lady Douglas a perfectly pleasant woman, but no more than that. Her gowns weren't of the latest fashion, and her hair was never dressed in any elaborate style. All signs said she wasn't here for the Season in search of a husband. And that, Ned was pretty sure, was why he was so taken by her. She didn't have an angle, an ulterior motive for spending time in his company.

That, and she was fascinating. Her life, what he knew of it, was completely different from that of anyone else he had ever met.

Tonight she wore a blue dress. The fashion this season was embellishment, embroidery, beading; her dress bore none of it. The neckline was almost prudishly high, and her gown wasn't fitted at all. Her hair was pulled back and unornamented, and a few loose tendrils brushed her temples and cheekbones. She stood near Lady Cavendish and a young lady with hair so dark it was almost black, whose gaze was drifting demurely toward the floor every few seconds before she brought her chin back up in an almost defiant gesture. The young lady was definitely dressed in the latest style, and even as Ned approached their group, he saw a young, not quite eligible bachelor approach Lady Cavendish and ask for an introduction.

When Lady Douglas saw Ned, her face immediately relaxed into a warm, genuine smile. "So you are here."

"In the flesh." He approached and took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss in a gesture that had her laughing quietly, her blue eyes dancing. "It's been too long. Tell me your supper dance has not been claimed."

"It hasn't." Her gaze was steady on his face. "It's good to see you."

"Lord Musgrave!" Lady Cavendish was idly waving an outlandish fan, her face wreathed in smiles as she collapsed the fan and tapped him on the arm. "My dear, may I introduce you? Edmund Nickerson, Earl of Musgrave, this is Miss Lilly Parminter. Miss Parminter is not yet allowed to waltz, but I do believe she has a few dances left to be claimed...?"

Ned gave the dark-haired young lady a charming smile. "Then I would be delighted to claim one," he said. Lilly glanced down again, then up, a soft blush rising in her pale cheeks. She lacked the studied apathy and disdain that the slightly older veterans of London's marriage mart carried around like armor.

That task completed, Ned returned his attention to Lady Douglas, just as a roar of wind rattled the windowpanes. No one else seemed to take much notice, but she shivered, and he saw an expression he couldn't name flicker across her face.

"Can I bring you some refreshments?" Ned asked, keeping his voice low, bringing his hand near her but not quite daring to touch her.

She gave herself a small shake and tipped her chin up to gaze into his eyes, and her slow smile had him thinking decidedly less than chaste thoughts. "I would never inconvenience you," she demurred.

"It's no trouble at all."

Ned was aware of his reputation; it was hard not to be. He was seen as a flirt because when he was at one of these things, a ball, a house party, any kind of social gathering where ladies were present, he couldn't help turning on the charm. That had broken a few hearts, and now he tried to limit his time in London during the Season. The last thing he wanted was to give another eligible young lady false hopes.

During the dances, the ones that allowed for it, he kept conversation light and his flattery borderline outrageous. Mike had joined the dancing too. Either the hostess hadn't properly balanced the numbers, or a few more men were hiding in the card room than usual. Out of politeness, Ned was on the floor for every dance.

Then the first waltz was announced. Lady Douglas had sat out most of the previous dances, and when Ned approached her to offer his hand and guide her out, she was with Lady Cavendish and Lilly again. Apparently the young lady hadn't yet gained permission to waltz, which was unsurprising.

Ned had danced the waltz with Lady Douglas once before. That night, holding her in his arms, gazing down into her beautiful eyes, he had imagined he was falling for her.

Her hesitation, if any, was very brief. She accepted his offered hand and accompanied him onto the polished floor, placing her hand precisely in his. Once they were in position, she brought her chin up and looked into his eyes.

No, he hadn't imagined it. As their gazes met, his heart skipped a beat, his breath faltered. She was beautiful, and he was infatuated.

"How was your holiday, Lord Musgrave?"

"Call me Ned," he replied, meeting her gaze steadily. "It was lovely. We stayed home and entertained our fifty closest relatives."

Her eyes lit up with laughter. "Sounds wonderful," she replied, and he detected a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

"And yours?"

"We wintered in Paris. My father, my aunt, and I."

Ned shook his head in envy. "I haven't yet been."

"You missed it during your Grand Tour?" Her eyes were sparkling again.

"My gap year actually was spent mostly in the Orient."

Nancy was fascinated as he regaled her with a few of his more interesting stories from his time there. He even managed a few phrases in the language he had learned during that trip. He hoped he didn't imagine the way she looked at him now, the way her estimation of him seemed to change. As far as she was concerned, he was just another flirt, here to judge the merchandise but never commit to a purchase.

Which sounded just as awful and demeaning as what it was. Maybe next year he'd contrive a way to avoid the Season entirely.

It seemed she had only been in his arms a moment when the song came to an end. Ned raised his eyebrows. He didn't want to let her go, were he to be honest. He didn't want to interrupt their conversation. If the weather were better, appearances be damned, he would have suggested a walk on the terrace.

"That was wonderful," she told him with a smile, as their bodies swayed to a gentle stop. "Thank you for the dance, and that enchanting conversation."

He reached for her hand and brushed another kiss against her knuckles. "I'll try to pick up where I left off during our supper dance," he replied. "Or remember my manners and ask you everything about Paris."

She smiled. "Please," she said. "Call me Nancy."

--

After lunch the next day, Nancy was sitting in the small room they used to receive visitors, waiting. The fire was blazing, and as she watched the hand move slowly on the mantel clock, she stood and crossed toward it, feeling the halo of heat barely touch her ankles.

The weather outside was miserable, cold and overcast. At least no rain had yet fallen.

Nancy looked down at the small sheet of paper in her hand, the names listed there in her own neat cursive, but all of them were locked in her memory. She folded the paper twice and tucked it into her reticule, then fanned her fingers and held out her hands to warm them. She didn't see so much as a tremor, but she didn't smile.

He had accepted.

Nancy had noticed Lord Musgrave—Ned—from the first time they'd met, but Bess had been the one to say he was interested in her. Until Bess had, Nancy hadn't really given it a second thought.

Nancy had long known she would likely never marry. Her initial Season had been an unmitigated disaster, so complete it would have sent Bess or most of Nancy's other friends into despair. Bess's advice had been to spend the time until the following spring strategizing, making connections with good families, and above all, knowing the rules.

The problem was that Nancy didn't give a damn about the rules.

Oh, she knew them, and no one could fault her manners. She was polite and could be charming when she wanted. But when something more important happened, when she was helping someone less fortunate or the victim of a crime, that swept all the importance of appearances aside.

Besides, most women followed the rules to catch a good husband—and many of the best women Nancy knew, the most admirable and courageous, had long since stopped caring about what society thought.

In that spirit, as soon as she rose that morning, Nancy had sent a brief note to Ned. The footman returned with his affirmative reply.

Nancy touched the edge of the list with her bare fingertip and felt her heart pound again. She had imagined a few different ways she could do this, but this seemed like a safe way to start.

A knock sounded at the door, and Nancy startled, then picked up her skirts and crossed toward the hallway. She heard the quiet murmuring of polite conversation, then Effie saying "I'll see if she's available."

On that cue, Nancy opened the door. Ned turned, hat and gloves off, and gazed at her. His brown eyes were warm, his dark hair neat. He stood a head taller than she, and Nancy wasn't a petite woman. His shoulders were broad beneath his heavy greatcoat, and he was muscular and handsome. Definitely handsome. Bess never missed an opportunity to remind her of that.

Nancy took a breath and gave him a grin. "Very punctual, Lord Musgrave."

"Ned," he reminded her, offering his arm and returning her grin.

Outside, the weather was no better than it had appeared from inside. Commercial traffic was steady as ever, but the leisurely traffic of the ton making calls, going for rides to see and be seen, was sparse. Ned had brought a closed carriage, and once they were inside, he tucked a heavy blanket over her. She closed her eyes in a paroxysm of bliss when she felt the cocoon of warmth from a heated brick at her feet.

"You must take ladies on rides during abysmal weather all the time, to be so thoughtful," she said, once she opened her eyes.

He smiled. "Just thought about what I'd want," he admitted. "It is nice, isn't it? We're heading for Hyde Park; let me know if you'd prefer somewhere else."

She shook her head. "Hyde Park is fine," she replied. Their destination didn't matter; their proximity to anyone who could overhear, did.

Ned settled back in his own seat, facing her, his gaze locked to her face. Were she a more flirtatious woman, she would have dropped her own gaze, peered at him through her lashes, toyed with her cloak. She did none of it. "I very much enjoyed spending time with you last evening," he said. "But I will admit, your note did surprise me."

She gazed steadily back at him. "Intrigue you?"

"That, as well." He gave her a small, slow smile, one that sent a shiver down her spine. "What is this favor, that requires so much secrecy?"

"Your directness is refreshing."

"Glad to hear it."

Nancy paused. "Because I've been... accused of a lack of transparency, in the past. You're a flirt, are you not?"

Ned raised his eyebrows, but didn't open his mouth to answer.

She waved a hand, dismissing her clumsy wording. "You have no wish to settle down before the year is up, I mean. Because this..." She gestured vaguely to the carriage around them, their being alone together, the way it could so easily be misconstrued. "I simply wanted some privacy for this."

He held her gaze for another moment, letting her squirm—if she had any intention of doing so. She didn't. "I didn't abduct you and set out to compromise your reputation, no."

Nancy's lips twisted slightly. She had managed to ruin her own reputation, but not in the way he meant. If anyone could be accused of being a flirt, Nancy was that person. She had never bothered to count the broken dates, the abandoned dances, the hasty excuses that never quite satisfied her companions. If anything, the whispered gossip almost certainly labeled her a skittish, prim woman who had no ability to keep a man interested. Bess had told her once, sharply, to cultivate an air of mystery—not to just vanish into thin air herself.

"You're a member of the Omega club."

His eyebrows rose again, and he nodded. "I joined just out of school," he confirmed. "But I participate more on the charitable side than on the... social side."

Nancy nodded slowly. "I need your help," she said. "It is a minor thing, but it's important to me."

"Then I will happily do what I can."

"Tell me if you have any acquaintance with any of these men."

A part of her heartily wished that he would be ignorant of all of them, even though it would mean somehow finding another starting point. But given his age and his connections, she had hopes. He was just enough outside her circle that it might work.

She went through the entire list, and at his final headshake, she let out her breath as a sigh and slumped back on the seat. So she'd have to find someone else. It was almost comforting.

"You said... Roderick Stanley? Of Avon?"

Nancy didn't have to glance at her list. "Yes."

Ned tapped his chin. "That's... yes. Richard's older brother. Yes. Roderick inherited; Richard's in Italy, I think. I heard he'll be coming back soon. Yes. I'm acquainted with Richard, but not the brother."

Nancy tensed, sitting forward again. "Enough that you could pay a visit to Roderick, claiming that you had thought Richard would be there?"

Ned frowned slightly. "Most likely."

She let out her breath as a sigh. "Hmm."

"Why are you interested in Roderick?"

Nancy caught herself almost glaring at Ned, before she calmed herself, pressing her spread fingers flat against her thighs and taking a deep breath. "He inherited. The title, the estate?"

Ned nodded, still gazing at her with curiosity shining in his eyes. "Yes."

She glanced down. Ned visiting by himself wouldn't do her any good. Ned visiting with her, though...

"Could you and I visit him?"

Ned chuckled. "Under what pretext?"

"You wanted to see him and thought he was at the estate. The younger brother, I mean."

"I understood that part." He leaned forward. "Under what pretext would we be visiting?"

Yes. Another stupid rule. She couldn't travel with Ned as an acquaintance, even as anything much more. "I could be your cousin."

Ned opened his mouth and closed it. "You could," he agreed. "Though we look nothing alike."

Nancy shrugged. She needed any opening, however flimsy. This would provide one. And she might need use of his own resources, if she succeeded.

If. She would.

"Do you need anything more than an introduction?"

Nancy was lost in her own thoughts, and glanced back up at Ned, trying to process what he had just said. "I need time and access to the estate," she said. "Actually, his being there isn't important." She considered. "Probably."

"If he's absent, the staff wouldn't allow us to stay," Ned pointed out.

Nancy nodded, already distracted again. The carriage had reached Hyde Park, and was traveling slowly down a well-used path. Today, the traffic was light. Anyone eager to be seen in this miserable weather would be judged harshly for it.

"Might I... suggest something?"

Nancy nodded slowly, focusing on him again.

"Will you have need of me, once we're there? You want to stay at the estate, for whatever reason, and not necessarily to interact with Stanley. But your accompanying me is the excuse for your presence."

"Yes." She considered for a moment.

"What is it? Is something at the estate that you wish to recover? Some stolen jewel or love letter?"

Nancy bit the inside of her lip, very briefly. "Something I will need time to find," she fibbed slightly.

"Then... will you allow me to help you?" His expression became sweetly eager. "Your stories are always so thrilling. I won't hinder you, I promise."

She began to reluctantly shake her head. Some things, he just couldn't know; some things, he wouldn't be able to help her do. But this might be the price for his agreeing to help.

She had pinned her hopes on his being a decent man, one whose opinion of her hadn't been tainted by the gossip and her past. Some prices were simply too high, though.

"I think it would be more logical for you to pose as my wife."

Nancy sat straight up, eyes going wide with shock.

"It provides the reason for our visit: I want to introduce my new wife to my good friend from school. It would provide us with a measure of privacy."

Nancy was speechless. She just gazed at him, unsure of what she should say, trying to figure out another, better way to do this. Nothing came to her.

"We would be staying in separate rooms," he said rapidly, after that silence hung between them for a moment. "I'm not... Our deception would need not be romantic. I can kiss your hand, dote upon you. We can even give false names, if you wish. I would not have that kind of scandal touch your name."

Nancy shook her head. "I will not marry," she said, almost impatient and perfectly frank. "I don't care about gossip or idle tongues. What reputation I already have will do nothing to attract a husband, and this would almost perfect it."

"So, you agree?"

It... it just might be perfect. They could at least try it, anyway. If the circumstances were right, it might even work on a few more names on her list.

She sighed. "Let me think about it," she said. "It's a dangerous plan."

He grinned, slowly. "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

"Be careful."

Nancy closed her eyes as Hannah Gruen wrapped her in a hard hug. Hannah had been with the Drews for longer than Nancy could remember, and she still saw her as a second mother, aware of all too many of Nancy's secrets.

They released each other and Nancy stepped back, smoothing her dress. "Thank you for your help."

Hannah nodded. "Don't forget to write."

Nancy nodded. Hannah's brown eyes were shining, and Nancy took another step away. Hannah always hated to see her leave, and Nancy wasn't going to cry.

She felt like steel inside, cold and unbreakable. She had to succeed at this. She wasn't sure how she could live with herself if she didn't.

Nancy took the skirt Hannah had returned to her to her trunk, then opened her jewelry box. She was taking the bare few pieces that Bess had deemed absolutely necessary for her charade, and her lady's maid was actually looking forward to using them for once. The last piece she needed, though, was her mother's wedding ring.

She took a deep breath and lifted it out of the box, considering. She had polished it, and the gold band gleamed. Miraculously, it fit almost perfectly on her ring finger.

The thought of letting Ned put it on her made her feel nervous. He was already too invested in this, and going along with his deception was likely a mistake, but she still thought it was her best choice. She slid it onto the proper finger and gave herself a little shake, then continued her packing.

By the time Ned arrived an hour later, Nancy was beyond ready to go. She was so impatient that as soon as his carriage had stopped, she was opening the front door to her father's townhouse. The weather was better today, at least, overcast and gray but not quite so cold. She had just descended from the last step as the carriage door swung open, revealing Ned.

Her heart skipped a beat. The estate was two days' travel away, if they made good time. She and Ned were going to be spending a lot of time alone together.

He bowed to her, his eyes sparkling. "Good traveling weather. I suppose you're anxious to be on our way."

Nancy nodded. "I would invite you in for tea, but... yes, please. I'd prefer we left as soon as possible."

He handed her up into his carriage, and she glanced around before taking her seat. This one was different, the interior more comfortable, meant for travel over longer distances instead of leisurely drives in the city. Nancy adjusted her bonnet and her skirt, and almost moaned when she felt the heated brick at her feet.

Ned joined her a few minutes later, after she heard some bumping and scraping that had to be her trunk joining his luggage. He gave her a smile, gesturing to the small basket.

"A gift from your housekeeper."

Nancy smiled in return. "She's always reminding me to eat."

They divided up the treats, and idly, using little of her attention, Nancy felt the rhythm of the horses and the wheels change as they passed through city traffic to the outskirts of London, then the country road. She relaxed slightly, which was ridiculous. If anything, she should be even more on guard.

"So, where were we married?"

Ned had finished his snack and tidied up, and was regarding her from across the carriage, his gaze steady and his manner relaxed. She met his gaze, found herself wanting to shy away from it, and forced herself not to. She wasn't like that, and there would be no turning back now.

"The church on your family's estate." Nancy raised her eyebrows.

Ned nodded once. "Small gathering, then. Friends and family only. Why not London? St. George's?"

"An ailing relative couldn't make the trip and we wished her presence there more than anything."

"Very romantic." Ned smiled. "How long ago?"

"A month?"

"In such an inhospitable season. This ailing relative must be close to death, for us to inconvenience everyone else so."

"Great-Aunt Wilhelmina was always such a comfort to you, growing up." She found herself matching the warmth and teasing in his own voice easily. She hadn't really worried about their being able to play off this part of the charade—people were married all the time, virtual strangers to heavily-pregnant lovers—but his ease with her and their repartee were definitely helping.

They had settled on enough detail to answer casual questions about their fictional engagement and marriage by the time they reached the coaching inn. Nancy was a little stiff from sitting for so long, but happy to see the warm glow in the windows. Ned directed her inside while he dealt with the arrangements.

A small, private dining room was just off the entrance, but it was empty. All the guests and visitors she could see were gathered in the main room, regaling and laughing by candlelight, drinking ale or beer. She saw a few women, but before she could do much more than look around, Ned appeared again.

"Our rooms are ready. Right this way."

She followed a young boy up a flight of narrow stairs to the second floor, then to the suite Ned had rented for the night. Another member of the staff was placing a second full plate on the table, and the fire was already crackling in the sitting room. It was tidy and furnished reasonably well, just a little shabby, but better than she had expected.

"I thought we could do with a bit more privacy. It is our honeymoon, after all."

Nancy returned his easy grin, practicing in front of the staff members, who in all honesty didn't care about their relationship status as long as Ned's money was good. "Claiming the supper without even a dance first."

"That can be rectified," Ned replied, holding her gaze as he unfastened his greatcoat and let it fall down from his shoulders.

Nancy swallowed. Her first instinct had definitely been correct; this was far too dangerous.

And she didn't care.

--

Ned was a little flushed from the wine that had been provided with their dinner, and the sitting room between their bedrooms didn't provide much space for dancing, but she was in his arms anyway, gazing up into his face. She had re-pinned her hair and bathed her face, and she smelled like lavender.

A small part of him knew he should never have suggested this, but it was the simplest way for him to help her. He just wasn't sure how long it would take for him to do something incredibly stupid.

"We can do this," she said, and gave him a little confirming nod. So she had her own doubts, too.

"Play married for a few days while you find whatever it is you're looking for?" He smiled.

But she hesitated and glanced away.

Ned's mind raced, hampered little by the wine. "Oh. Is it possible that Stanley doesn't have it, and you might need to see if one of the other men you named does?"

"Something like that," she said, and she wasn't telling him the whole truth again. It was the way she paused, the way her gaze tracked around his face before finally meeting his eyes.

And if she couldn't lie convincingly to him... "What date were we married?" he asked suddenly.

Her eyes widened, but she rattled off their agreed-upon date immediately.

"What color did you wear?"

"Blue. Your favorite. With a bonnet trimmed to match."

He relaxed slightly. They were waltzing to music only they could hear, a beat he had counted off. And being alone with her, seeing her in the firelight...

He sighed. "I wish I knew more about Stanley."

Her expression changed then. "He's not a good person," she muttered, her gaze on his shoulder.

Ned's eyebrows rose a fraction, but she didn't lift her gaze to see it. "His brother seems decent," Ned said.

"He may very well be."

Ned slowed their steps until they were just holding each other, her hand clasped in his and his other hand at her waist, and to him, the air between them seemed charged. "What are we getting into?"

She took a slow, deep breath, then met his gaze again. "I'm not sure," she answered, and that seemed honest. She didn't avert her gaze or seem to measure her words again. "At best, it will take a day for me to do what I need to do, and I... well, I might need your help, in a small way. At worst..."

"In what small way?"

She glanced over at the small couch, and Ned took the hint, guiding her over to it and sitting down beside her. He was finally feeling overwarm, and he absently reached up to open his shirt at the neck.

Nancy's eyes widened, and she paled slightly.

"Just warm," Ned replied, filing her response away to consider later. "I don't mean to offend you. Other than posing as your husband to provide an excuse for our being there...?"

Nancy's hands were fidgeting in her lap, and when Ned had opened his shirt and settled back, she seemed to relax, or at least force herself to stop moving. "I believe a woman is being held there against her will."

Ned leaned forward, gaze locked to her face. "That's a serious charge. Why do you believe that? Has she written you?"

"Part of why I need to go is to confirm that is in fact the case," Nancy replied, and she was hedging again. "If she wishes to leave, then we will provide her with the means to do so. That's the assistance I need."

"Held against her will. I don't believe either brother is married."

"I don't believe so either."

Ned rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Has she no male relatives who could do this for her?"

Nancy smiled slightly. "Something else I don't know," she replied. "But I doubt it."

Ned shook his head. "Well," he said. "If that's our mission, it seems a noble one."

She nodded. "It is. Definitely."

"And once we've spirited her away, should she desire that, are we staying on to divert suspicion?"

Nancy shook her head. "I'd prefer to leave with her as soon as she's able."

Ned didn't like the sound of that, either. Nancy knew a lot more than she was telling him, but everything about this adventure of theirs was insane. He took a deep breath. "Well. If we want to get there at a reasonable hour tomorrow, we should turn in now. On the way we can figure out our new names. That way, when Stanley mentions our visit to Richard, it will all seem like some sort of wild misunderstanding."

"And once you're ready to settle down, your prospective mothers-in-law won't be muttering about how much of a rake you are."

Ned turned to gaze straight into her face and saw her eyes sparkling. "After what you've said, I'll be modeling my behavior on the mythical white knight on his charger, ready to swoop in and save the day. Without so much as a blemish on my reputation."

Nancy held her smile for a beat, and then it vanished. "It's best if we keep this to ourselves. You do understand...?"

He nodded. "I do. I'll just settle for your seeing me that way."

She chuckled, and when she began to push herself up, he rose and offered his arm. "Good night," she said. "Lord Musgrave."

"Good night, Lady Musgrave," he returned, bringing her other hand up to his lips for a kiss. When their gazes met, the heat between them was nearly undeniable, or at least it was to him.

It was what amounted to a practical joke, for a very good cause. Nothing more than that.

Maybe.

--

Ned kept up the pretense on the remainder of their journey. He came up with the name Arthur for himself, and suggested Guinevere for Nancy. She rejected it, saying it would start their fictitious union off on the wrong foot. Gwendolyn, though, was deemed acceptable. Ned invented a county seat, a warm boisterous family not entirely unlike his own, and a first-meeting story that was almost uncomfortably close to how he had initially met Nancy.

Stanley's country residence was, by itself, rather unremarkable. The home was gray stone, and a wing had clearly been added later; the material was newer, the design just different enough. It looked out over a placid lake, and the grounds were meticulously manicured. Stanley, or his steward, was managing the holdings well.

When he was helping her down, she glanced into his eyes with a smile. "Arthur."

"Gwendolyn," he replied, offering his arm and feeling the warmth of her skin through his coat as she tucked her hand through. He could tell she was nervous, or maybe he was and just expected her to be, and she was just as cool and calm as she appeared.

He's not a good person. That was still bothering him.

The door was answered by a manservant who looked them over without so much as a flicker. "Good afternoon," Ned began. "We've come to surprise Richard, my new bride and I. Spur of the moment thing, we were just passing through."

"Certainly. Whom shall I say is calling?"

Ned instantly understood the import of that response, and began mentally cursing steadily in a language he had learned during his travels. He kept the same easy smile on his face as he replied, "Lord Musgrave. Ned."

He was afraid to look at Nancy, who didn't hesitate as the servant guided them to a morning room just off the hall. Once they were alone in the room, Ned gave voice to the swift, vehement imprecations that were still streaming through his head. He damned Richard, Italy, and their bad fortune, in language that would have made both him and Nancy blush if she could understand it.

Finally he tapered off, shaking his head, and turned to see Nancy beside the fire, warming herself. She still looked too calm.

"Apparently your intelligence was out of date."

"Are we really going through with this?"

Nancy raised her eyebrows. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Because you'll be thoroughly ruined by it. He'll tell people. The news will be in London before we can get back there."

"And you?"

Ned waved his hand impatiently. "A lark," he replied. "Tutting, secretly thrilled possible mamas-in-law. Who I don't care one whit for, by the way."

"So all this will do is increase your cache, and torpedo mine. Again, no problem." She tilted her head and took a small step toward him. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're a beautiful, eligible woman. Why wouldn't you want to be married one day?"

Nancy's lips had just parted when she let out her indrawn breath in something close to a gasp, her gaze focused behind him. Ned turned, keeping his movements easy, to see Richard standing there, stepping through the open door.

"Nickerson! Or should I say Musgrave." Richard approached him with a wide, genuine smile and greeted him with a hearty clap to the shoulder. "And settled down, too! Not a moment too soon, either. Life here isn't very stimulating at the moment."

"No raucous house party in progress, then?"

Richard shook his head with a sigh. "Just my brother. But with a lady around, I can see if our cousin Helen is up for a visit." Richard stepped toward Nancy. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Musgrave."

Nancy smiled and offered her hand. "We don't mean to impose," she started, a hesitant note in her voice.

"We can stay at the inn in town," Ned chimed in, following her lead.

"Nonsense! Plenty of room. Have you been traveling all day?" Richard glanced around the room without waiting for an answer. "I really must get Helen here; I'm a terrible host. Let me ring for tea. And champagne! A toast!"

Because he, in effect, had no other choice, Ned trimmed most of the embellishment from their invented backstory and delivered it with as much ease as he could feign. Richard knew Ned, but they were just hearty acquaintances. They had never met family members and weren't close friends, and Ned was glad of that, even as he knew that this was going to get well out of hand. His parents were going to find out about this, and their disappointment in him was going to be monumental.

Ned and Nancy were invited to stay "for at least a week," and Richard seemed to be eager to have anything else to divert him. Most of what Richard would want to do, though, would likely exclude Nancy, so Ned encouraged Richard to invite the cousin he had mentioned. At least that way they could form a paired group, and he wouldn't be leaving Nancy alone in the house.

He's not a good person.

When Stanley appeared at dinner, Ned felt a momentary flash of panic. Did he know Nancy, in some way? Would her appearance here, under her own name, put Stanley on alert?

But he didn't so much as bat an eyelash at their introduction, just turned a warm impersonal smile on them. Nancy's smile was just as easy, but Ned felt, or imagined he could feel, the tension in her. Stanley was taller than his younger brother, and muscular. Ned wouldn't have called him handsome, but he wasn't ugly, just not particularly remarkable. His hair was some shade between brown and blond, his eyes dark.

He didn't look the villain Ned had imagined, the kind of man who would keep a woman against her will. He just seemed terribly ordinary, with a dour sense of humor and a faintly distracted air. He gave his indifferent blessing to Richard's plan to invite Helen, and Ned relaxed slightly.

Stanley's gaze did flick to Nancy once or twice, but Ned never saw it linger, never saw an expression of thoughtful consideration.

Despite his excitement for this opportunity, if he had seen any sign that Stanley was focusing too much on Nancy, Ned was pretty sure he would have grabbed her hand and fled. He couldn't bear the thought of her being hurt, and the very real possibility of it was only just hitting him.

Their plan was insane. Stanley might not look all that remarkable, but he wasn't an overly indulgent and indulged lord of his estate, plump and happy. If Nancy's information was correct, he shouldn't be so underestimated.

Nancy and Ned were excused after dinner, with Stanley saying they must be tired after a day of traveling, and Richard making a winking reference to their newlywed state. They headed upstairs without speaking much, to side-by-side suites. There was no door connecting them, but Ned hadn't really expected one. They were guests, not family.

At her door, Ned paused and gently touched her arm. "Can I come to your room? Ten minutes?"

She nodded, and as she disappeared within, he saw her lady's maid already there, ready to help her prepare for bed.

Despite the urgency he felt, Ned took his time. He hadn't brought a nightshirt—he habitually slept naked, and hadn't expected to be around Nancy in that state of undress anyway—so he cleaned himself up more thoroughly and changed into a loose shirt and trousers that he wore for comfort, never for society. After some pacing, he decided enough time had passed, and went to Nancy's room.

Her pale silk robe was tightly belted around her, and Ned's first thought was that she had put more thought and preparation into their cover than he had. She looked very much like an innocent, sweet bride, ready to meet her husband on their wedding night.

And that thought was entirely unwelcome, so Ned cleared his throat and gave her a smile as he closed her door behind him. Nancy's maid had vanished, which was just as well. Ned didn't really want any witnesses for this.

"I'll have to offer for you," he said, without any of the preamble he had been planning.

Nancy waved her hand as though dismissing his statement, her other arm banded tight across her middle, her gaze elsewhere as she paced before her fireplace. "I'll start my search in the morning. Maybe, if I find a good lead, you could suggest that the three of you go riding?"

Her hair had been plaited for the night, and the thick braid fell over one shoulder, the ends of her hair practically brushing her bent arm. The firelight caught in the fine loose hairs at the crown of her head, providing a dim halo.

"Did you not hear me?"

She frowned at him. "Don't be ridiculous. If you feel compelled to do so, my answer is no, and your duty is fulfilled. Now. Riding?"

Ned opened and closed his mouth once. "It would be easy enough to suggest a tour of the property," he replied. "How are you being so cavalier about this?"

She slowed, then stopped her pacing, gazing over at him. She gave him a small smile. "Habit," she replied. "I appreciate your concern. You're an honorable man. How long will it take you to be ready to leave?"

"After you give the word, I would think we could leave within an hour. Maybe less, if we have warning, if my valet and your maid have us packed. Are you sure you wouldn't want to just stay out the rest of the week, though?"

She shook her head. "No. If you'd prefer, though, you could stay here."

"And your excuse for leaving would be...?"

"Oh, that's easy." She waved her hand again, and slowly resumed her pacing. "Sick relative or friend, a temporarily-forgotten engagement. We were just passing through, anyway."

"I don't think I want you leaving without me." Ned took a small step close to the circuit she was traveling. "It struck me, tonight, how dangerous this is."

Nancy shook her head. "Truly, it isn't. You've no idea what I've already been through."

"And I should probably be glad." He took another step. "You say he has a woman here against her will. If Stanley finds out that you know, what would stop him from taking action against you? Possibly violent action?"

She paused, and when their gazes met again, Ned's stomach flipped. The warmth of the wine he'd had with dinner seemed somehow more intense. "You," she replied, with a gleam of something close to merriment in her eyes. Then her small smile vanished. "I will be very careful. All references to white knights and holy quests aside, I need you here for the pretense of my presence. I need them to believe we are no more than we appear to be. Once I've found her and liberated her, the game is done." She opened her closed fist into a palm. "Simple."

"You don't think it's this cousin they mentioned?"

Nancy shook her head slowly, deliberately, her gaze locked to his. "Definitely not."

"But you're the only other woman here."

Her smile was thin, humorless. "Abovestairs."

Ned let out his breath in a sigh. He wanted to sit down in the chair before the fire, but that seemed too familiar, to be so relaxed in her bedroom. "So she's a domestic servant."

"Almost certainly."

"How...?"

"I'll address that in the morning." Nancy wrapped her other arm over her midsection, hugging herself. The night was cold; the room was warm near the fire, but this felt like more than that.

Ned ran a hand through his hair. It really had been a long day. Besides, the longer he stayed in here, the more appropriate it seemed for their "married" status—and that thought, he dismissed before he could really consider it. "So, you'll let me know if I need to get Stanley and Richard out of the way for you. Anything else I need to be doing, or can do, to help you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing yet. But I will definitely let you know."

He nodded. Then he closed the distance between them, and Nancy's eyes widened slightly. He reached for her hand, and her skin was cool against his. He stroked his thumb over it. "Please be careful," he said, even more softly than they had been speaking before. "I know there's more to this that you're not telling me, and I'll trust that I don't need to know it, but I don't want to see you hurt."

Her gaze was steady on his, and she didn't speak for a moment. The fire crackled beside them, and he couldn't seem to stop stroking the side of her hand, over and over. "It's better for you if you don't know," she said slowly, quietly. "Thank you for trusting me. This... it's too important to just dismiss."

He nodded. Before he released her, he leaned down and brushed his lips just over her temple, then stepped back and left without another word.

--

Nancy was sitting up in bed the next morning when her maid arrived with a small tray and a smile. Nancy returned the smile absently, considering the visible leaf in the open notebook on her lap. The lines of information had been copied out in her careful script, despite how angry she had been while writing them. Even hard-won, it was almost too scarce.

"Breakfast in bed?"

Nancy paused, then nodded. "Something with jam."

"Of course. Any preference for today's outfit?"

Nancy waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever you feel is best."

Her maid chuckled. She had been with Nancy long enough to know her moods, and had handled the wardrobe for their trip, since Nancy cared little about it. She generally followed Bess's advice for what was appropriate, while excising the abundance of lace, embroidery, and flounce her best friend loved.

"The medium-weight green would be very becoming."

Fully aware of how little patience Nancy had for the process, her maid tried to make her efforts quick, but Nancy was still impatient to begin her search. She resolved for the tenth time to just shear her long hair off; surely that would save some time. Bess would be horrified, though—and privately, Nancy did like the feel of it, the silky warmth against her skin. The way Ned's gaze had lingered on it...

Perhaps if Ned knew what she was planning, he would have asked her to consider letting her maid handle it, but Nancy knew how dangerous it was. Besides, they were working together, and her maid would let her mistress know if anything of note happened.

Nancy took a deep breath and considered before leaving her room, then let a gentle smile light her face. She was playing at being a newlywed, after all, and any vulgar display was out of the question, but she was fairly sure she should appear to be floating on a gossamer cloud of marital bliss. Any attempt to imagine what she was implying, though, was beyond her capabilities.

And she would need to do this often, if the strategy worked and Ned agreed to do this again.

She left her room with the skirt clutched in one fist and a hastily scrawled note in her other hand, deliberately putting on a casual air she definitely didn't feel, and headed for the kitchen. She saw a few servants hurrying about their tasks, cleaning out grates and building fires, making sure everything was in place for the new day, but none of them seemed a good candidate for the woman she sought.

The kitchen was bustling, with breakfast preparations in full swing. Thanks to her long history of poking around, she was fairly familiar with the way belowstairs worked: rooms for food preparation and storage, laundry, silver and china closets. The housekeeper was speaking to a maid in a room near the kitchen, but when she saw Nancy, she cut her conversation short and strode forward to greet her. The maid she had quickly dismissed hung around too, which was good.

Nancy smiled at the older woman, whose hair was pulled back and streaked with gray, her dress rather plain but trimmed with lace at the throat and cuffs. "I was looking for my maid," she said, holding up the skirt Hannah had "stained" for her. "I'm not sure how it happened, but I found a stain on this and was hoping she or someone else could clean it."

"Of course, madam."

Madam. Nancy turned her moment of bubbling laughter to merriment that danced in her eyes. "And I found this... my husband dropped something, and while we were... looking for it... I suppose the note dropped out of sight?"

From the look on the housekeeper's face, she understood what Nancy was implying, and was happy not to ask for further detail on their apparent illicit tryst.

"It's addressed to a Mary, and it says she's a new maid here." Nancy made her expression faintly disinterested.

The housekeeper shook her head. "Must have been meant for someone at another house. No new maids named Mary here."

The maid that had been speaking to the housekeeper nodded her agreement. "Mary's been working in the kitchen for three years now, and there's a tweenie, Maria, but that was over a year ago..."

"Maybe it's a nickname." Keeping her tone almost bored was torture.

But her casual questions of a few other servants revealed nothing new. No one knew of a new maid at the estate, much less one named Mary. No one seemed overly curious about why she was asking, or afraid, or like they were hiding something.

Nancy returned to her room with the note and the skirt, lost in thought. She had been hoping this would be easy. Either the records she had were wrong, and that thought was too horrible to contemplate, or Stanley had decided, for whatever reason, to keep Mary elsewhere.

Maybe she had never made it here in the first place.

"Nancy."

From the tone of his voice, Nancy was pretty sure Ned had said her name more than once, trying to get her attention. "Good morning," she replied, beckoning him to her room with a quick gesture.

At least he was dressed more formally. Seeing him last night looking so relaxed and comfortable, so very familiar with her, had been subtly disturbing. Theirs was a partnership forged in need: hers, for the excuse of his presence, and his, for... she wasn't sure. Maybe just some excitement. Either way, it was a partnership, not a relationship. Definitely not a relationship.

"Shall I direct my valet to start packing?"

Nancy shook her head slowly, starting to pace again. When she was alone in a room with Ned, she couldn't shake the quiet suspicion that to keep still would allow him to get close to her, and that, she had to avoid at all costs. "No one belowstairs admits to her being here."

"Admits to. They're hiding something?"

"I don't think they are. No one acted suspicious or nervous." Nancy dropped the skirt and note on her bed and clasped her hands around her opposing elbows, gently scratching her nails against the fabric of her sleeves, as she resumed pacing. "Does he have any other properties? Any other place he could be keeping her?"

"I'll find out," Ned vowed. "But gaining an invitation could be tricky. Might involve cultivating a deeper friendship with one or both of the brothers."

Nancy shivered. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she muttered, turning smartly before she came too close to the fireplace and singed the hem of her dress.

Ned opened his mouth and closed it.

"What?" Nancy said, then realized how demanding she sounded. "Did you think of some other possibility?" she said, her tone more neutral.

"Yes," he said slowly, "but it isn't one I would generally mention in mixed company."

Nancy very nearly rolled her eyes. "I would appreciate hearing the idea regardless."

"If his intentions with her are... less than chaste," Ned said carefully, and Nancy huffed out a sound somewhere between impatience and certainty. "Could he have her set up as he would a mistress? In London, perhaps?"

Nancy's steps quickened as she began to consider that idea. "How much freedom does a mistress generally have?"

"I understand they have a great deal of freedom, financially and physically. Their own apartment or lodgings, an allowance to spend on themselves..."

Nancy shook her head. "Then no."

"It certainly goes against the idea of her being held against her will," he acknowledged.

She could be in Stanley's own rooms, but Nancy doubted that. Perhaps she was here under another name... but if so, Nancy had only timing to help determine who she was. She had a rough idea of when Mary would have come here; she knew when would be too early. But she had no idea about hair or eye or skin color, whether she was tall or short, slender or curvy.

Every day, every moment, they were wasting weighed on her.

Nancy sighed. "All right. Let's eliminate every possibility, and if we can't..."

If we can't find her. Was Mary in a shallow grave, even now? Hidden in the woods beside some coaching inn, buried where no one would find her, where no one would mourn?

She shivered again, her steps slowing and her arms banded protectively over her waist, and glanced up with a quiet gasp when Ned touched her upper arm. His dark eyes were shining with concern.

"We'll find her." His voice was quiet, but confident.

Nancy just gazed back at him, wanting so badly to agree with that hollow promise. She couldn't make herself do it, though. When she had begun this journey, she had known very well how terribly it might end.

Then Ned wrapped her in his arms, drawing her head to his chest and resting his chin on her crown, and Nancy finally closed her eyes, oddly soothed by the pounding of his heart.

"A ride, eh?" Richard's eyes sparkled with merriment. "Giving your lovely bride a chance to rest for tonight?"

Ned knew how he was expected to respond to that, with equally winking innuendo, and he let that happen without bothering to give any actual thought to what he was saying. He kept it to a minimum, but that was enough for his friend, who was clearly beyond bored at the estate. He was taking every chance he could to live vicariously through Ned and Nancy's fake relationship.

It was pretty sad, if Ned let himself think about it. The not so much implied as blatant misogyny was worse.

When Ned suggested that they invite Roderick along for their trip, maybe make it a tour of the property, Richard sighed heavily but reluctantly agreed to at least extend the invitation. After an impatient thirty-minute wait, Roderick apparently managed to extract himself from his steward's demands and meet them at the stables.

"We have all you could ever want here," Richard said in a monotone. "A lake. Several billion trees. An abandoned, possibly haunted groundskeeper's cottage."

Ned managed to dampen his immediate flare of interest. "Sounds intriguing."

Roderick shot his younger brother an irritated look, his horse shifting impatiently under him. "It's on the other side of the lake. Any reports of mysterious lights can be confidently blamed on tenants' reckless children, bored and seeking a meaningless thrill." He shrugged.

Hmm. Ned made a mental note. He could always winkingly imply to Richard that he and Nancy would make good use of such a place, so that Richard would provide better directions.

The ride lasted until tea. Ned kept an eye out for any place on the grounds where someone might be held, and made note of all of them. Otherwise he kept his conversation general and complimentary. Richard was his usual self, amplified a bit, clearly enjoying needling his older brother. Roderick was—seemed to be, Ned corrected himself—ordinary. In contrast with his brother, he was uptight and boring. He pursed his lips a lot. His running narrative about the property was unexceptional, and Richard found plenty of gaps in it to insert his own commentary.

Occasionally Ned let his mind wander, when Roderick was silent or just reluctantly bickering with Richard. He wanted to help Nancy as much as he could. But as soon as she had found whoever she was searching for, or decided that she wasn't here... then what? She was so quick to brush off his warnings that they were headed for a reckoning. He didn't understand why she didn't think her father would involve himself in any scandal that could be placed so squarely at Ned's feet, a scandal that would be easily forgiven with a hasty engagement announcement.

If she truly didn't wish to marry, and he had no reason to doubt that part of her protests, then an engagement would still save face. Once a suitable amount of time had passed, they could break things off without too much trouble.

He just didn't want things to end between them so soon. He had realized that already, but the mental gymnastics involved in inventing some convoluted reason for them to stay together... or, at least, that was how she would see it.

Maybe.

They had danced together at that coaching inn. She hadn't shoved him away when he had embraced her this morning, but that hadn't been the embrace of a lover, either. Just that of a friend.

And could he stand by and keep their relationship chaste? See her flirt or dally with other men and refrain from saying anything?

Of course he could, but only if he told her he had feelings for her and learned that the heat and attraction between them was imaginary, only on his part. Then he could allow the tension to subside, and grow to admire her through the lens of careful friendship instead. Careful, because the ton didn't smile upon chaste friendships between unattached members of the opposite sex. To them, it would always be cover for something else, something more.

The main house came into view, and not a moment too soon, as far as Ned was concerned. He practically dismounted while the horse was still in motion, and thanked the brothers before racing to his room to clean up and change. Maybe Nancy wasn't interested in him as anything more than a vehicle, but he'd prefer not to literally smell like one.

He walked into the dining room in a fresh shirt, tight jacket, and trousers. Nancy was seated next to a dark-haired woman who looked to be about her age, and both of them smiled at him.

"Lord Musgrave. I hope you had an invigorating ride."

Ned bit back the reply that rose immediately to his lips, one fit only for Richard's ears. Then he saw the sparkling in Nancy's eyes and regretted his hesitancy, though it certainly wouldn't have been fit for the other lady's ears. "It was certainly educational," he replied, keeping his expression placid.

"May I present Lady Archer. Helen, my husband, Lord Musgrave."

He hadn't heard her say those words in precisely that order before, and Ned found to his dismay that his response was disturbingly... physical. "A pleasure," he told Lady Archer, bowing over her hand. "I am gratified that you could come and keep my wife company."

Helen blushed prettily. "It is no trouble at all. Lord Archer is in London for a few weeks, and I find life there tedious until the middle of the Season at the earliest."

"A wise observation," Ned replied. When his stomach gurgled, he coughed to cover the sound.

Nancy's eyes were dancing, though. "Please, sit down, my lord," she said, and had he not known her quite so well, he would have been completely taken by her act. "I'll bring you a plate. You must be exhausted."

"And famished," Ned admitted. Though all the dishes for tea were dainty, she still managed to load his plate with enough to take the raw edge off his hunger. He only hoped it would last until dinner.

Though Nancy showed no outward signs of impatience—no lady would—Ned could still sense it as he devoured tiny sandwiches and dainty cakes, restoring himself with at least four cups of strong tea. He sat back at last, listening to Helen tell Nancy about a particularly impressive garden at a neighboring estate.

Nancy raised her cup of tea, and her gaze met Ned's over the rim.

Surely the tension he could feel between them wasn't his imagination. He had put himself in such a dangerous place with her. Not for himself; several times he had caught himself measuring Roderick's potential threat in a fight, and determining he would prevail. But Ned found himself desiring her sole company, her touch, her esteem.

They excused themselves to dress for dinner almost simultaneously, which earned them a knowing grin from Richard, and headed for the staircase. Though she was doing her best to remain calm, her control was beginning to falter. Helen's presence behind them meant Nancy was practically quivering with impatience once they reached their rooms, but they were able to do no more than share a mutually exasperated glance before parting.

For Ned, dressing for dinner was simple. His valet re-shaved him, and he traded jackets. Then he knocked on Nancy's door, pushing it open before he heard any response, he was so eager to discuss what he had learned.

Nancy's lady's maid flew toward him in shocked outrage. "Out! Out!"

But Ned's gaze was already on Nancy. She had stripped down to her chemise; her stays were loose, and her hair was down, messy and golden and glorious.

She was incredibly beautiful.

His mouth fell open, and his admiration for her somehow grew even more when she met his gaze without a blush. "Come see me in my room?" he managed to force out, somehow, and she nodded. Then the maid firmly closed the door in his face.

Ned did his best to forget what he had just seen, or at least to just stop thinking about it. Every time he managed to put his mind on something else, as he paced his room waiting for her, he saw her again, looking very much as he imagined she might at bedtime. All that armor loosened.

What was she doing in there, he wondered twenty minutes later.

He was about to return to her rooms, to see if she had somehow been abducted without his hearing it, when she tapped on his door and opened it. Her hair was pinned up, and inviting tendrils brushed her temples and ears. She wore another modest dress, this one in purple. And now, having seen what was underneath, he appreciated all the more fully how it disguised her.

Ned channeled his feelings into an impassioned, "Who the devil decreed that a woman has to change clothes every fifteen minutes?"

The corners of Nancy's mouth turned up as she closed his door behind her. "Indeed," she agreed. "I would dearly love to spend a day in a single outfit. And to burn my corset."

Ned's mind immediately supplied an image of that, and how she might appear without one. He forced it away with monumental effort. "We saw several suitable places during today's ride."

"Tell me everything."

--

Nancy smoothed the cheap fabric over her waist, regarding herself in the dim glow of candlelight. The plain black dress looked more like a domestic servant's uniform than anything a lady would wear for actual mourning. Her maid had pinned her hair severely back, so it wouldn't catch on anything, and Nancy had a black bonnet to cover her golden hair. It was Nancy's usual outfit for nights like tonight. Her sturdy shoes were ugly, but she didn't need beauty for this. Sure footing was a requirement.

Now all she had to do was wait. While it rankled, Ned had volunteered to make sure the household was settled for the night before coming to her room. If she were caught outside her room, it would be a scandal. If he were caught, he could simply claim he was hungry and heading to the kitchen for a snack.

Nancy snorted. That would be entirely believable. She had never seen anyone who wasn't suffering deprivation put away as much food as he did, and she had no idea where it was going. The man was muscular, without an ounce of fat on his frame—

Nancy gave her head a little shake. Her internal voice was beginning to sound like Bess, and that was the absolute last thing she needed.

Although... She checked her reflection one more time, then gave a decisive nod. She would be wearing a cloak. Her outfit would be unobjectionable. Given what they were going to do, no one would fault her for wearing a plainer gown.

She had taken to pacing in front of the fireplace, growing more certain that he had simply fallen asleep in his room instead of going downstairs, when she heard a very soft tap at her door. She spun and practically marched to it, pulling it open with more force than necessary to reveal a rather startled Lord Musgrave standing there.

He swallowed. "A bit overexcited?"

She somehow managed not to snort again, retrieving her cloak and moving swiftly out into the corridor. "Horses?"

He shook his head. "I think we can manage without disturbing the stables."

Halfway there, though, Nancy was regretting their caution. The moonlight had been entirely blotted out by heavy clouds, and the two lanterns they carried were doing little to illuminate the way. Then the first few fat raindrops began to fall.

Muttering what Nancy was almost certain was a violent imprecation in an Oriental language, Ned quickened his pace, catching and holding back branches to keep her from being caught in them herself. They moved without speaking, other than the occasional grunt or sigh, breathing rapidly.

And Nancy was exhilarated. Staying inside all day long, nibbling on iced cakes, murmuring pleasant conversation about the weather, all rankled. This was what life was truly about, and she couldn't help hoping they would find Mary or at least a clue to her whereabouts in the abandoned cottage.

They had to double back twice in the dark, and when they finally found the place, Nancy studied it hard. The miserable night gave them low visibility, but the cottage did appear to be thoroughly abandoned.

A weathered board had been nailed over the cottage door. With a grunt of impatience, Ned studied it; Nancy reached out and shoved at one edge. Some enterprising soul had modified it, so it was propped up on one rusting nail and swung away at the other side to allow access. As Ned fumbled with the doorknob, Nancy blew water off her lips. She hadn't brought her heaviest cloak, and now this one was practically soaked through. Her shoes were making deeply unpleasant squelching noises with every step.

They both panted in relief as they tumbled into the cottage, dripping. Nancy held her lantern aloft; Ned's had fallen victim to stray rain, and they hadn't taken the time to relight it. At a glance Nancy saw a bed covered in a fresh quilt, a basin and ewer on a low table beside it; the walls were dark and seemed to swallow the light, leaving the far corners a total mystery. She turned, her gaze darting over everything. A rough table and a single chair, presumably dating from the groundskeeper's tenure.

It was barely possible that Stanley used the cottage, on occasion, to keep Mary isolated. From all she was seeing, though, Nancy was inclined to doubt it.

Nancy loosened the ties of her cloak as she heard Ned shaking out his own coat. "Well, at least Richard likely didn't follow us," Ned commented. "Such a miserable night."

Ned had warned her that Richard and his prurient interest in their marital bliss might give them both an unwanted spectator and a perfect alibi. She shook her head, reaching for the tie of her rain-dampened bonnet. She didn't expect them to linger too long, but she intended to search the cottage thoroughly, and the damp fabric was annoying her.

"What are you looking for?"

She cast a glance back at him and saw only open sincerity on his face. "A note, maybe. Any evidence that someone has been kept here against her will."

"Shackles?"

His expression had become more serious, and she paused, then nodded. "New ropes. Anything like that." It wasn't much, but she had no intention of overlooking a clue.

She paused long enough so Ned could relight his lamp from hers, and then he joined her search. She moved the bed, looking all around and underneath it, and found nothing she deemed a clue. Housekeeping had been minimal, and anything that wasn't apparently used by other couples was covered in dust. She even spotted a cobweb dangling near the table.

Nancy had just reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair, the dampness curling it as it dried, back behind her ear, when both she and Ned heard it. The snap of a branch breaking outside.

Their startled gazes met. Maybe Richard hadn't let the grim weather deter him after all.

Ned took two steps toward her, closing the distance between them rapidly. His casual shirt had been dampened by the rain too, and clung to his torso. Droplets darkened his hair and lashes.

Her lips parted.

She couldn't count the number of times that she had been in this situation, alone with a man when their imminent discovery made the man suggest their only recourse would be a passionate kiss. Whoever discovered them would be embarrassed, would beat a hasty retreat, and their true motives would be undiscovered. All those times—before, anyway—she had allowed herself to be embraced and turned her face away from those half-teasing kisses. An interrupted tryst was one thing, but appearing to play hard to get would only help, too.

Besides, Frank was like her brother. She had no intention of ever kissing him, whether they were discovered searching for clues or not.

All of that had been before. Now, Richard knew them as a married couple.

Her heart was pounding as Ned swept her into his arms. She had every intention of turning her face away, letting Richard find Ned nuzzling against her. Surely that would be enough.

But her lips were still parted and then Ned was kissing her.

His tongue stroked against hers and Nancy shuddered. Initially she had been raising her arms, intent on pushing him away; now she found them wrapped around him. He kissed her again and his body was tight against hers.

Her eyes popped open. She hadn't even consciously closed them.

Ned. The man with her was Ned.

She wanted to break away from him, but...

He was kissing her again, this time more slowly, and his hands were on her back. The immediacy of it, the thinnest of layers between them, made her shudder again. Her lashes fluttered down as she found herself responding to him, stroking her tongue against his.

Ned's lips were slightly parted when he pulled back, and he gazed down at her. He was blushing slightly.

She had been shivering. Now she felt like she was about to burn from the inside.

"Do you see him?"

Nancy blinked slowly, trying to focus and reorient herself. Ned, cottage, kiss...

Richard.

Nancy took a slow, steadying breath as Ned released her, and she picked up her lantern. Together they peered at the windows, and then Ned even opened the door. They saw no sign of him.

"Well, maybe he saw what he wanted and left," Nancy said, and her voice was only trembling slightly.

"Probably. I... no corset?"

Nancy reached up to tuck another loose strand of hair back in, only to have it fall down immediately again. She could feel the same heat in her cheeks, and she noted with some dark amusement that Ned's gaze was locked to her face, as though he was afraid to let it drift any lower. "I didn't think a married woman would wear such a thing to an... assignation. Did I assume incorrectly? Would a man truly be aroused at the delay of removing it?"

Ned choked, then coughed into his fist. "I have heard," he said carefully, "that some... don't bother."

"Removing a corset? Leaving it on during intimacy?" How are we even having this conversation? she thought frantically.

Ned cleared his throat, and they both spoke at the same time, a little louder than usual, a little—brighter than usual. Ned stopped first and gestured at her. His gaze was still locked tight on her face.

"I see nothing around the bed to indicate she's been held here. I would suggest that we try another site, but..." She shrugged, indicating the woods around them. While the rain had tapered off, she had no reason to think it had stopped for good.

He nodded. "We can regroup and try again tomorrow, if the weather's pleasant. We can ask for a picnic lunch; we won't need a chaperone." He cleared his throat again.

"Yes. An excellent suggestion."

The rain, thankfully, held off during their trek back to the main house. Ned managed to find his way without following any of the side trails they had initially wandered down, and Nancy felt tired and a little defeated when the dark bulk of the building loomed before them. It seemed an absence in the darkness, a hole, even when lightning flashed and was reflected in the windowpanes.

Was this how Mary saw it? How she had seen it?

As she and Ned headed toward the door they had exited through, another light caught her eye, this one too weak to be lightning. In the darkness, though, it burned like a beacon.

The top floor of the dower house.

Nancy caught Ned's sleeve and directed his gaze to it, her heart beating harder in excitement. As soon as he saw it and realized the significance, he turned back to her, wide-eyed.

She beckoned him down, and practically pressed her lips against his ear to keep from shouting over the wind. "Is it occupied?"

"Not according to Stanley, he said it was being repaired," Ned replied the same way, and the warmth of his breath made her lashes flutter for an instant.

Then she set her jaw and took off at a near run, leaving him likely gaping behind her.

Maybe she really would find Mary tonight.

--

"Sir."

Ned couldn't even focus long enough to open his eyes for a few seconds, he was so exhausted. Once he finally did, he was rewarded by the sight of his valet's nostrils above a silver tray.

"Shall I return later?"

Ned groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, telling himself sternly not to go back to sleep, though he would dearly have loved to. "What," he managed, his voice slurred a little.

"Breakfast is being served downstairs. I can order a tray sent up, if that would suit."

Ned had been at house parties where breakfast was a nebulous concept, generally served near the middle of the day. The sun, beating against the other side of the curtains, had come out brilliantly following the stormy night.

He and Nancy were supposedly newlyweds. He sighed. If only he were beside her now—

Ned bolted upright. His valet took a prudent step back, then placed the morning cup of tea on the table beside him.

"I'll get dressed," he decided, reaching for the tea. He sighed after the first sip. "Right after this."

His valet nodded and vanished to make his own preparations.

He and Nancy had watched the dower house for a long time the night before, and Ned had been completely energized, both by the sense that they were close to finding the woman she sought and by the kiss they had just shared.

Kisses, he corrected himself a little giddily, then cleared his throat. Thank God she hadn't accused him of taking advantage of that noise outside the cottage to force unwanted attentions on her. The feel of her warm in his arms, only thin fabric and no corset between them, oh God. And her response to him. That heat between them wasn't just a figment of his own imagination.

He and Nancy had very nearly decided to inspect the doors and find if they could easily gain entry when they saw Stanley leaving, and that had decided it. Neither of them could think of a reasonable excuse for him to have left the main house to visit the dower house in the middle of the night. A renewed effort from the storm had driven the rain against the dower house's windows in clattering gusts, and if they hadn't been soaked before, they certainly were after that.

He had marveled at it for a few seconds, the sheer absurdity of spending the small hours of the night beside a woman he was infatuated with, hoping to liberate another woman from the grips of their otherwise utterly banal host, both of them dripping rainwater and both of them still, apparently, not wishing to discuss the kiss—kisses—that he kept replaying in his head.

Ned was very curious about how Nancy had learned to defeat locks so quickly, but he followed her inside as soon as she gained entrance. The dower house smelled musty, and much of the furniture was shrouded. Nancy made her way unerringly to the top of the house.

When they had reached a door at the top of the stairs, they could both hear crying from behind it.

Nancy had looked up, into his eyes. "Please wait here for me," she said, her expression grave. "Seeing another man right now might..."

She had made a vague gesture, and Ned had nodded. He understood. He paced a few steps away as she worked on opening the lock, registering only the soft murmur of conversation, not letting himself listen any more closely.

It wasn't that he had doubted her, or disbelieved her theory of what was going on. But this, being confronted with the reality of it, was different. The Omega club members indulged and boasted of their own debaucheries, but this was beyond the pale.

Only nervous energy was keeping Ned upright by the time Nancy emerged from the attic room, supporting a slender young woman. She had Nancy's cloak over her.

Before they set out, Ned settled his own coat over Nancy, ignoring her flustered protests. She needed something to cover her; were she to be drenched to the skin through her thin gown, she'd surely become ill.

Together, anxious to avoid discovery the whole time, the three of them had made their way to Nancy's room. Ned had seen them safely inside, wished them both a good night, and had made his way wearily to his own room. His last act before falling face-first into his own bed had been to strip off his sodden, ruined clothes, leaving them in an unsightly heap before the fireplace.

His valet had removed them while he slept. Ned finished his tea, feeling it warm his throat pleasantly.

"We may be leaving today," he told his valet, as the other man walked back in. "I have to ask—her."

"Very good, sir."

Ned was torn. Staying out the rest of the week, at least, would distance them from any suspicion on Stanley's part. But having seen the woman Nancy had rescued, he understood the urgency. She needed to be as far from here as possible, as quickly as possible. Nancy's assertion that nothing else mattered so much rang true.

Freshly shaved and dressed to his valet's satisfaction, Ned gave his reflection one last glance and shrugged. Richard would tease him about whatever he had been awake all night doing, and that worked in his favor, too. Given everything else, Ned was fairly sure he hadn't been responsible for the noise outside the cottage last night.

Kisses. The soft warmth of her lips. Feeling her tense, then melt in his arms.

The door of Nancy's room opened as Ned approached, revealing her maid with a tray in her hands. The dishes were scraped clean. "Good morning," he greeted her.

The maid gave him a thinly polite smile while eyeballing him. She obviously hadn't forgiven him for coming in while her mistress was less than decent.

"I need to speak to her."

"Well, she's dressed, so try not to be too disappointed." A rapid blush belied the maid's tart tongue, and she hurried away without a backward glance.

Ned chuckled. Nancy was, in many ways, a very individual woman, and her maid seemed to be as well.

He opened Nancy's door. The woman in question stood before her mirror, inspecting her hair. She looked radiant, in a very becoming blue gown.

Then he saw the human-sized lump under the covers, and turned to her with wide eyes as he shut the door behind him.

"As soon as I go down to breakfast, my maid will help her prepare to leave," Nancy said without batting an eyelash or breaking eye contact with her reflection. Then she turned to him. "Will you alert your valet, or shall it be just the two of us?"

"I'll alert him." Ned paused. "May I escort you downstairs?"

Their gazes met, and Ned felt an ache of longing tighten in his throat. He wanted to close the distance between them and sweep her off her feet again, but they weren't alone, and he wanted her assurance that she hadn't been made uncomfortable from the previous night's embrace first, her physical response notwithstanding.

"Yes." Nancy cleared her throat. Her gaze dropped to his neckcloth.

They made their way downstairs with her arm linked through his. "You look incredibly well-rested this morning," he murmured.

"It's amazing, what success can do for a woman." Her smile was just as beautiful. "Please follow my lead downstairs."

Ned swallowed, then steeled himself. "Are we going to confront Stanley?"

She shot him an almost exasperated glance, then gave her head a little shake. "While I appreciate the suggestion, I hadn't planned on it. Were I a man, I suppose I could challenge him to a duel..."

"I can."

"Don't. I think... a little subterfuge might serve the cause better." She tapped her fingers against his arm thoughtfully.

Helen, Richard, and Roderick were all at breakfast. They greeted Nancy and Ned easily, especially Richard. Ned bit back a chuckle at the younger man's wink, then studied Roderick without making it obvious. Their host seemed unchanged; he didn't seem to know that anything was amiss. And by the time he did, Ned hoped several miles separated them.

Ned began to walk toward a seat near Helen, with Nancy still on his arm. "What would you care for this morning, my lady?" he asked Nancy.

Nancy stopped him with a gentle tug at his arm. "Let me see. Maybe I can choose more wisely this time, and find something that will not make me so bilious." She dropped a hand to her waist and gave her belly a subtle, sweet caress, gazing up at Ned with gentle adoration in her eyes.

Ned choked on air.

His eyes were streaming when Richard sprang from his seat and pounded on his back a few seconds later. "Congratulations, Nickerson," he said heartily. "Many, many congratulations. And in record time, too." He winked.

Every time Ned thought Nancy couldn't surprise him, she managed to find a way.

During breakfast, Nancy turned to him. Her blue eyes were alight, and she looked for all the world as though an idea had just occurred to her. Yet again, he was staggered by her ability to playact. "My lord," she said, "I know you are eager to spend some time with your old friend, but my father will be over the moon to hear our news. I can't imagine merely sharing it through a letter."

"You would like to visit him, my lady?"

She nodded. "You need not accompany me..."

Richard, fork held aloft, paused and raised an eyebrow at Ned. They were newlyweds who had apparently made a love match. Ned had hated the idea of letting her go alone when she had suggested it, and hated it even more now.

"I would not dream of sending you alone," Ned replied, then looked over at Richard and Roderick. "I'm sorry to cut our visit short..."

Roderick waved a magnanimous hand. "We will be sorry to see you go," he murmured, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Is your father in London?" Helen asked.

Nancy nodded. "He's always so busy during the Season, but for this... I know he'll make time." She cast a glowing look at Ned again.

He returned her smile while internally tamping down a scream. Never mind his parents, how was her father going to react when all this got back to him?

The time had to be nearly three in the morning.

His parents were at the country estate, so Ned had the run of the London townhouse, and that was where he was tonight. A steady rain drummed against the cobblestones outside, hushed beyond the crackling of the fire.

He had stopped drinking, but only because he couldn't muster the will long enough to ring for anyone who could bring another bottle.

Mike had accepted Ned's invitation inside an hour before. The two of them had met at their club and started drinking there, and Mike, who was marginally more sober, had helped Ned to the front door of the townhouse. Once they had come into the privacy of Ned's study, the whole fantastic story had poured out of him. Part of Ned had just wanted to see Mike react with disbelief or wonder, but part of him just needed to work through what had happened.

He and Nancy had abducted a woman. A woman who very much wanted to be freed from her situation, but abducted nonetheless. Due to their outrageous behavior at the estate, at any moment his parents or her father were going to come after him.

Ned roused himself mid-snore. Mike was slumped over on the couch, fighting to keep his eyes open. Ned knew he should just suggest they go to bed, leave Mike to find the chamber he generally used, then head to his own bed, feel crisp clean sheets under him, and...

Dream about her. As though he would do anything else.

"I have to offer for her."

Mike snorted, then jerked more fully awake. "What?"

"I have to offer for her," Ned repeated, trying to pull himself upright and failing miserably. He sighed. "Again."

"I missed that part," Mike said, the last word swallowed by a huge yawn.

"Mmm." Ned jerked awake again, then combed his fingers through his hair and gave it a tug. "Tomorrow," he declared.

"It is tomorrow," Mike replied.

"Tomorrow tomorrow," Ned returned.

Ned found that he needed that additional time to recuperate from the incredible hangover. Once he felt moderately human again, he went through the mail that had arrived in his absence, sorting through invitations to society events and bills from local merchants. Garden parties, balls, charity events... were his mother here, she would encourage him to attend all of them, keeping himself open to possibility, to the chance of meeting the woman who could be his future bride.

The offer he had to make, he admitted to himself while stone sober, was to save both of them. Their behavior would be excused, at least partially, with the announcement of a betrothal. After an acceptable amount of time, once the Season was over, he could break it off quietly and it would be old news, gossip hardly worth mentioning, by next year.

He presented himself at her father's townhouse at eleven o'clock the next morning, the earliest possible time for his call, and glanced down at his immaculate outfit. Even an insincere proposal should be made while well-dressed.

Ned frowned at that thought. It wasn't... insincere, exactly. Well-intentioned, definitely. But he accepted her word that she would never marry, though he still didn't understand why she had made that choice.

The man in question was indeed in residence, and after a brief consultation with him, an impassive servant delivered Ned to his study. Ned found he was mildly disappointed that he hadn't seen Nancy, but maybe she was already pursuing another mystery...

And that gave him pause. If she were, he wanted to be with her.

Carson Drew was standing when Ned entered, behind a large, sturdy desk. While the chaos on it was organized, he was clearly using it for his work; as a member of the House of Lords, he would certainly have plenty of it if he chose, though Ned had known a few members who declined to take their responsibilities seriously. Nancy's father looked very distinguished in an immaculate jacket and spotless shirt, his hair only just beginning to go gray. His daughter had inherited his eyes.

Ned swallowed as he offered the man a formal bow of respect, then accepted the seat facing him when it was offered.

He had never done this before, and certainly not with less than earnest intentions.

"How can I help you, Musgrave?"

Despite his never having done this, he was still very sure that this was how he was supposed to begin, by approaching her father. But he imagined Nancy being informed of it, and her likely reaction, and found himself temporarily rendered speechless.

"Is your daughter here, sir?"

"I believe so," her father replied, raising one eyebrow. "Do you have reason to believe she is not?"

Ned shook his head immediately. His palms felt clammy, and he resisted the urge to scrub them against his knees. "The topic—she is the topic of my conversation. And having some slight acquaintance with her—" given everything, slight was definitely an understatement— "I am not sure she would care to be discussed in her own absence."

Her father's other eyebrow rose. "Your implication is alarming. Would she find the conversation... distressing?"

Ned could not safely say what Nancy found distressing, other than her discomfort at any discussion of marriage, so he gave the other man a slow, reluctant nod. "I believe so."

Keeping his gaze locked to Ned, Carson rose to pull the rope summoning a servant, and directed Nancy be brought to his study. Then he resumed his seat, his posture less relaxed than before.

"Shall we wait?"

Ned wished he could somehow relax, but speaking the words with Nancy's beautiful blue eyes trained on him was going to be close to impossible anyway.

After her outrageous display at breakfast, they had quickly made their departure from Stanley's estate. According to Nancy, Mary needed privacy and time, and Ned had given that without hesitation, riding alongside the carriage instead of within it. During their one night at the coaching inn, the three of them had eaten dinner together, with Nancy and Ned making bland, cheerful conversation.

Outwardly, Mary didn't show the signs Ned found he had half been expecting. No livid marks at her wrists to show she had been bound. Of course the locks would have kept her captive, with no ropes or shackles necessary. Her face, though, bore some thankfully fading signs of extreme suffering. She said little to join in their conversation, and her gaze was almost always locked to Nancy.

The poor girl. Given her experience, Ned wasn't hurt by her reluctance to even glance in his direction. For all he knew, her only experience with a man had been coerced.

The last he had seen of either of them was when they had alighted from his carriage here in London, Mary garbed in what had to be one of Nancy's gowns, looking—well, not quite happy, but relieved. Like she was beginning to feel the stirrings of some kind of hope again.

For what, Ned wasn't quite sure. Presumably Mary had no virginity to offer a prospective husband, but for all Ned knew, perhaps she had no interest in that anyway.

He and Nancy hadn't had a private conversation since they had left Stanley's house, and while her last words to him had been on the steps of her father's townhouse, a warm thanks for all he had done to help her, Ned had felt a distance in it. She wasn't quite dismissing him; no polite lady would be so overt... but she had been.

The only use she had been to him was knowing a name on her list. He hadn't known any others.

She would find someone else who did. He was starting to understand that about her.

"I've come to offer her marriage," Ned replied, forcing the words out before he let fear or propriety stop him. "If you agree with my reasoning, then perhaps you could help me put the matter before her in a... persuasive way."

Instead of rising from his chair in a towering anger, instead of leaning forward and demanding more information, Nancy's father actually relaxed, startling Ned for a half-second. But then he had seen some men whose families, whose titles, granted them such power that urgency, forcefulness, were actually gauche. With the smallest gesture, their whims were fulfilled. Why waste time on passionate displays?

From Ned's own understanding, Nancy's father wasn't quite among them, but he didn't know for sure.

"I assume that your reasoning doesn't involve an irresistible attraction blooming at your first sight of my daughter."

"I imagined that was assumed, sir."

One side of Carson's lip curved up slightly. So she had inherited her wit from her father, too. Ned shifted his weight, keeping his gaze locked to the man. They weren't quite adversaries, and Ned didn't want their relationship to become antagonistic. He knew he would have to be careful.

"Please. Enlighten me."

The door opened behind Ned, and he turned immediately, bolting to his feet as he saw Nancy there. She wore a pale yellow gown, the fabric more substantial than was fashionable, modestly cut, and a few rogue curls brushed her temples and cheeks. Her eyes were still dancing with merriment, her face slightly flushed, as though she had just been laughing.

Then Ned saw the man beside her, the way their hands had been joined and were just parting. He was handsome, dark-haired, and they made a handsome couple.

Was she already engaged? Had her reluctance been because she couldn't reveal the relationship?

Had Ned kissed another man's fiancée?

Ned cleared his throat and bowed to her. "Lady Douglas."

The other man—

Ned felt an immediate, instinctive protectiveness rise in him, one that was unwelcome, since he knew how scornfully Nancy would react to it. Nancy wasn't his to protect, and didn't need his intervention. But he still felt... possessive.

She had been his fake wife, dammit.

The other man inclined his head, responding to some gesture from Nancy's father, and closed the door after Nancy entered, leaving the three of them alone.

Then Nancy's father gestured her to sit on the couch closer to the fireplace, and crossed to a set of decanters. "I've neglected to offer our guest any refreshment. A brandy, Musgrave?"

It might fortify him for the battle of wills he was about to endure, but Ned shook his head. Just the mention of brandy had given him the faintest, momentary headache, a memory of his indulgences with Mike. He crossed to the armchair facing the couch and slowly took a seat there when Nancy's father offered it. Then it was the two of them facing him, gazing directly at him through identical blue eyes.

Ned had never used the word "formidable" to describe a woman before, but Nancy definitely seemed to be. Especially when in her home, seated next to her father, unapproachable, immovable.

Ned caught himself trying to learn forward and forced himself to relax in the chair. "We need to announce our betrothal," he told Nancy.

She shook her head immediately. "Absolutely not."

Ned took a deep breath and turned to Nancy's father. "At my suggestion, Nancy and I presented ourselves as husband and wife at the estate of a man whose brother I know," he said. "Initially we had hoped to use false names, but the brother was unexpectedly there, so Nancy was introduced as my wife. Under her own name."

"As you've implied," Carson said slowly. He hadn't shot an angry, disbelieving glance at either of them yet.

For Ned, their time at Stanley's estate had been invigorating and completely out of the ordinary. Now, Ned was wondering if it had counted as rather tame for his companion.

"A cousin came to visit. She, too, was taken in by the deception." Ned coughed quietly. "And she was also in attendance, as were both brothers, when Nancy..."

"At breakfast?" Nancy said, exasperated by Ned's hesitation at how to explain, and when Ned nodded, she turned to her father. "I implied I was with child so they would excuse our imminent, premature departure."

"With child by Musgrave."

Ned choked on air again, and only by supreme force of will managed to stifle a coughing attack.

Nancy nodded. "We had recovered the woman I was looking for. I needed to get her to London as soon as possible."

Nancy's father nodded as he accepted her logic. "I see." Then he turned back toward Ned. "Anything else?"

Ned's gaze went to Nancy, unwillingly, as he remembered the kisses they had shared in the cottage. Seeing her half-dressed. The dance in the coaching inn on the way there. "N—no," he stammered.

"Your purpose in... closing the stable door after the horse has bolted? Revealing via a betrothal that your initial story was false?"

"Several reasons," Ned replied. "I'm expecting a letter from my mother any day now, once she's heard seven times removed that I've apparently taken a bride and she should be expecting a first grandchild soon. Which may happen to you too, sir."

He made a dismissive gesture. "Easily dismissed as a misunderstanding. And a wink covers a vast multitude of sins."

No wonder Nancy was so blasé about so much. Ned cleared his throat and soldiered on. "Anyone hearing the story and discovering that we are not and have never been even engaged would naturally assume certain... qualities, in your daughter."

"And an ex post facto engagement would amend that how?" Nancy's gaze was hard, her voice somehow harder.

Ned made a broad gesture. "Youthful exuberance. The blush of first love. A practical joke we were playing on Richard." Ned shook his head, and dropped his voice. "But if any other man hears of it, as it is now... your reputation will suffer."

"Good." Nancy's cheeks were blazing in anger now. "Any man who reduces a woman to the status of her maidenhead is below contempt." She turned to her father. "Frank will only be able to stay a few more minutes. May I see him out?"

Carson nodded. Nancy cast a last furious glare at Ned and strode to the door, closing it firmly behind her.

Ned's gaze dropped to the rug for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "What I'm trying to say," he resumed, slowly, firmly, "is that the engagement would be for appearances, and would be broken after the Season. The gossip mill would move on. Our behavior would be more easily excused."

"All good points." Carson's gaze remained steady. "And I appreciate your attempt at candor. The decision is my daughter's. Should she agree with you, I'm sure she will inform me."

How could he be like this? How did he not see what would happen if they didn't do this? How could he not care what would be said about Nancy? Ned was rendered speechless, and only when the other man rose and returned to his desk, not even bothering with a formal dismissal, did Ned slowly rise. Had he not mentioned something?

Was he going mad?

"Good day, sir." Ned swallowed. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

The older man paused at his work just long enough to give Ned a nod.

A maid was just passing in the hallway as Ned closed the study door behind him. "Is—she—" he began, hesitantly.

The maid smiled. She wasn't the same one who had assisted Nancy during her trip. "I believe she's in the garden," she said, nodding toward the rear of the house. "Shall I...?"

Ned didn't really mean to follow her, but he found himself doing so anyway. Nancy had donned a hat, and she glanced up from her place on the bench when the maid and Ned approached.

Nancy's expression soured slightly when she saw Ned. "Do you have some additional condescending claptrap to add?" she asked.

Ned shook his head, his hat in his hand. "May I?" he asked after a moment; she hadn't offered him a seat.

She glanced over at the house, then rose. He offered his arm and she took it with another quiet huff. "The inner courtyard," she murmured.

Her father's townhouse was on a square, and inside the border of the buildings were individual back gardens and a common area. They would have relative privacy and the audience of anyone else who had chosen to stroll at the time, to lend the faintest air of propriety.

"Thank you for your help. I thought I was clear when I told you I have no desire to marry."

"I heard and understood that. The betrothal is to help us save face, especially if we—if I. Wish for a relationship with someone honorable." Ned kept his expression placid, trying not to betray how much this had come to mean to him.

"I thought you weren't worried about it shoring up your own reputation as a shameless flirt."

"I wasn't. But after what happened our last day there, my mother..." Ned shook his head. "Both my parents, most likely. They will be disappointed."

"Your behavior was beyond reproach."

"Even in the cottage?"

Nancy glanced away from him, and the brim of her hat hid her expression. "The less said about that, the better."

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable then, or now. We'll announce a betrothal and call it off after a sufficient amount of time has passed. That's all."

"That seems a way to delay the inevitable a while longer, not to truly change anything."

"Maybe," Ned said mildly. They walked in silence for a moment. "I'm sorry I offended you. I'm sorry I've made you so angry. I didn't think you would enjoy being discussed in your absence, and... the man who was here?" he heard himself saying, and was horrified. If anything was virtually guaranteed to incite her anger, that line of questioning likely would.

When her head immediately turned so she could look into his face, he tensed slightly, steeling himself for the onslaught. "Have you perceived a rival for my affections, sir?"

"Such as they are," he said, with a self-deprecating smirk. "Did you also stomp on him with both feet before dismissing him?"

She released a loud, indecorous peal of incredulous laughter. "My dear sir, at most you have been subjected to a pinky's-weight of my rage. Please disillusion yourself."

He waited another moment before, probing at it like a sore tooth, asking quietly, "So who was he?"

"My old, dear friend Frank. Our parents are friends and likely intended us from birth." She waved her free hand dismissively. "We spent so much time together as children that I think of him literally as a brother, both him and his younger own brother. I believe that he carried a tendre for me for a while, but that's passed. He's fallen for a much more suitable woman."

"I can't imagine that's true." Ned considered for a moment. "Well, for me, anyway."

At least she was back to teasing him now; at least she had softened some. She glanced over at him with a half-smile that soon faded. "A temporary betrothal, should I agree to it, would be just that," she said, seriously. "I would not care to have it spread about, flaunted enough to limit my own movements and choices." She paused. "I feel the need to point out, though I won't, that it was your plan initially which led to this moment."

"Masterfully done," he replied, his own lips quirking up. "And I will decline to mention that your announcement of our love child was the bow on top of this knotty problem."

Her free hand dropped down to skim suggestively over her flat belly, and Ned choked on air again. Nancy's laughter was genuine and gleeful, leaving her face slightly flushed, her blue eyes bright. "I was at an otherwise forgettable house party with my best friend when a new bride engaged in a practically identical display. I found nothing particularly notable about what she was doing, but my best friend nearly had an apoplexy."

"Frank? Your best friend?"

Nancy shook her head. "Lady Cavendish."

"Ahh." Ned shook his head. "So you borrowed it for a convenient excuse."

"And it seemed to have worked." They had made a complete circle of the inner courtyard, and passed near her father's house again. She didn't pause there, so Ned didn't either. "It can easily be chalked up to a misunderstanding. Apparently."

Removing a corset? Leaving it on during intimacy? Ned's inconveniently physical reaction to that memory made him immediately try to distract himself. Her knowledge of human behavior, and her gaps in it, were utterly fascinating to him.

"How is your father so calm about this? My parents are constantly asking whether I've found a suitable woman who could bear me children and let me pass down the title. I suppose the situation is a little different for you."

"Very much so." Her tone was wry. "My title was inherited on my mother's death. My father's will pass to a distant cousin. He's provided for me very well, and should I decide to set up my own household, he will arrange that for me."

"Regardless of marital status."

"I told him when I turned eighteen that I doubted I would ever marry. I've never had cause to change my mind about it, and he's never pressed me on it."

Ned shook his head in envy. "I hope he won't deliver a stern lecture later, after what I told him today."

Nancy laughed again. "Please don't trouble yourself. He wouldn't."

"At least tell me he can be warm and affectionate. His demeanor today..."

Nancy's steps slowed as she glanced over at him. "I'll be candid," she replied. "He's been through the speech you gave him today a few different times. He no longer finds it shocking or upsetting, if he ever did."

Ned's eyes widened. "Men offering for you after circumstances placed the two of you in potentially compromising situations?"

"In a manner of speaking." Her steps quickened again. "One had decided that only marriage would turn me into a suitably demure, obedient woman. One tried to convince my father that I had confessed a burning obsession with him, and he was only doing what was right by offering for me. Two decided that assisting me while I investigated mysteries meant... well, more than it did. To me, anyway."

Ned quirked his mouth, considering. At least he had differentiated himself from the last two specifically. He hoped.

"No wonder he said the decision was in your hands."

"As it should always be." Her expression wasn't earnest so much as fierce when he glanced over at her. "My father has a hobby of studying law, and taught me much of it. He values my opinion on matters before Parliament. He seeks me out. Would that other men would do the same."

"Ex post facto."

"Ah. Yes." She smiled. "We practice arguments as well. I suppose that was more for his benefit than yours."

She still hadn't told him why, exactly, she didn't want to be married, but any time he even attempted to raise the question, she immediately became defensive. And, he supposed, it didn't matter. Her will was enough to justify it, just as his own was. He still knew he would change his mind, though.

"What?" He turned to her, eyes opening slightly as her question pulled him out of his own thoughts. "You just looked rather pensive. Do you disagree with his including me?"

"Not at all," Ned replied. "I think you're right. Why shouldn't you be consulted on something that will impact most, if not all, of the rest of your life?"

She smiled, then sobered slightly. "And yet, most would consider what you just said controversial."

As he would have, all too recently.

They completed their second circuit, and then Ned motioned for her to proceed him into the garden behind her father's house. She was about to pass the bench she had been sitting on earlier when Ned stopped her with the gentle pressure of his hand on her arm. She turned to him, relaxed, inquisitive.

Ned dropped to one knee, and she began shaking her head, her expression one of exasperation, amusement, and dismay.

"Lady Douglas," he said, keeping his voice pitched low enough that she could hear him, but they wouldn't easily be overheard. "Would you do me the honor of pretending to be my fiancée?"

"I..."

"You would make me the happiest man on this earth," he said, all wide-eyed innocence, and Nancy dissolved into giggles, collapsing onto the bench as she covered her mouth. "Please. I will valiantly endure a pinky's-weight of your rage, as you deem fit. I will skulk around with you in the dead of night, soaked to the skin, seeking all that is lost. If you will have me."

She recovered herself, shaking her head, but her gaze on him was fond. "You tease me."

"I tease myself." He reached up and, heart beating hard, covered her hand with his own. "In all seriousness, I want to be close to you, however you will have me. And if it is this way, then I will take it."

She grew still and sober, still searching his eyes. "We will break our engagement by Christmas," she said. "Give me your word."

He nodded. Their engagement would be hers to break, anyway. The proposal of marriage, offered by him, could not easily be withdrawn, and would reflect poorly on her character should he do so. Not that it seemed to matter to her, by any stretch of the imagination.

"I give you my word."

"Then, Lord Musgrave," she said, and drew a deep breath. "I accept." She tilted her head. "May God have mercy on your soul."

The curtains had been pulled back to reveal a verdant green lawn fringed in meticulously cultivated shrubs, and Nancy's gaze was drawn to it as she strode into Lady Cavendish's dining room, drawing off her gloves as she walked. She had worn her mother's wedding band a short time, really, but her finger seemed foolishly naked without it. She had taken to wearing it on a slender chain around her neck. Some strange superstition or fancy made her feel closer to her mother when she was in contact with it.

Lady Cavendish swept into the room with a wide grin on her face, wearing an embroidered blush-pink gown that was very becoming. She greeted Nancy happily, then directed her to the table. "Just making sure Cook understood my vision for dessert."

Nancy laughed. "That sounds rather intimidating."

"It shouldn't be." Bess reached for the teapot and glanced at Nancy, pouring two cups after seeing her nod. "Progress report first?"

"Please."

Bess handed her a teacup and saucer before taking a delicate sip from her own cup. "She's doing well. The doctor has seen her twice so far and feels cautiously hopeful about her recovery. She's getting on well with the other women. I think it's a relief to her, to be with people who know what she's endured."

Nancy nodded. "Let me know if she needs anything."

Bess made a quick dismissive gesture. "Should anything unexpected arise, you'll receive the first notice about it."

Nancy relaxed slightly. "And Lilly?"

"Three beaus. We're being very selective, she and I, and she was buried in flowers after the last ball. I've told her we'll attend two more before we make any decisions."

"The poor, bewildered girl."

"She's having the time of her life." Bess's eyes danced with merriment. "And so am I, quite honestly. I don't know what I would have done, if you hadn't included me on this."

Nancy shook her head, waiting until the maid had served their plates and left to reply. "You are far too generous. I'm the one in your debt."

"Well, I know how you can repay me." Bess popped a grape into her mouth, and Nancy steeled herself when she saw the frank curiosity in her best friend's expression. "Lord Musgrave. Truly, you pretended to be his bride?"

Nancy sighed. "In less than the ways you're imagining."

"Tell me everything."

And Nancy obeyed, holding nothing back. She and Bess had been through a lot together, and Bess knew her better than almost anyone. While her friend might tease her, Nancy knew she also cared deeply for her.

"The announcement will be tomorrow, you said?"

Nancy nodded. "So he says. Tonight, I've been invited to dinner at his townhouse. His parents are newly arrived in town, and they want to meet me."

Bess tapped a finger on her chin a few times. "I have a maid's uniform, thanks to you," she mused. "And what better way to witness this..."

Nancy narrowed her eyes. "You would never."

Bess dissolved into laughter. After a moment, though, she sobered. "So what happens if you find them charming?" she asked. "If you find that you don't actually wish to break off the engagement, when the time comes?"

"Impossible." Nancy's jaw was set as she glanced away.

Bess waited a moment, then touched Nancy's hand. "It's not always like that," she said softly. "I'd even wager that it's generally not like that."

"You know that's not the only reason."

Bess nodded slowly. "But I know that it's a reason. You kissed him. You went without your corset, around him."

"That was because we were—"

Bess pinned her with a look. "Would you have done the same if he had been Frank?"

Nancy shuddered slightly. "No."

Bess softened her tone again. "You're attracted to him. I think it's sweet. He wants to be around you; he's admitted as much. So just... give yourself permission to explore this." She picked up her fork, surveying her nearly emptied plate. "What do you have to lose?"

Everything, Nancy almost replied.

--

When Nancy was shown into the room, as all conversation hushed while he and his parents gazed at her, Ned was immediately delighted. She wore a modest gown of bluish green that became her very well, and her hairstyle made him imagine that with the removal of a few key pins, it would be tumbling down over her shoulders in a few seconds.

Ned had thought entirely too much about her wearing her hair down, and not wearing much else.

As he walked toward her, his hands stretched toward her, smiling, he wondered how much of tonight would be a complete sham, meant entirely for his parents' benefit. Knowing her, likely all of it.

He just prayed she didn't, while all demure lowered lashes, give her belly another knowing caress.

"Darling," Ned said, taking her hands when she offered them and giving her a kiss on the cheek. He could see a glint in her eyes, and was pretty sure he knew what it meant. "I'm so glad you were able to come. My parents."

His parents were clearly delighted to meet her, and insisted that she call them by first names. Ned marveled at how she seemed to be just throwing herself into this. Nothing about her manner or her conversation bore even a hint of sarcasm or mockery. She was complimentary, sweet, charming, every inch a gracious lady and a perfect potential daughter-in-law.

As Ned's father led Nancy into the dining room, Ned's mother beamed at Ned. "I'm so happy for you," she murmured, her eyes twinkling. She looked very dignified tonight, with her white hair swept up, wearing a royal blue gown, but she was with family tonight and her expressions were always open. Ned had seen her, while in society, freeze a rival with a glance.

His mother was very aware of the rules. Nancy observed or discarded them at will, it seemed.

His parents weren't going to meet the real Nancy, he didn't think. But maybe this was her. She was so, so very... unpredictable.

Over their meal, which was excellent, Ned's mother subtly asked about Nancy's father and her home life. Ned saw a flicker in her gaze before she answered, but as far as he knew, everything she said was true. She had grown up with excellent caretakers but without a mother, and her father had been indulgent without ever spoiling her. Nancy radiated pride when she spoke about her father, too.

Ned found himself irrationally jealous. He had seen her with her father; together, they were beyond a force to be reckoned with. Of course she loved her father. Ned just wished she looked even a tenth that happy when discussing him.

After the meal was over, Ned's mother smiled at Nancy. "We have an excellent pianoforte," she said. "Do you play?"

Nancy smiled warmly, but Ned sensed something in it, a hesitation. "Some, but I have no great skill on the instrument."

"Then let us see whose playing is more bearable," Ned's mother replied with a twinkle in her eye. "James?"

Ned's parents walked out together, and Ned offered Nancy his arm. She gazed up at him, and for a moment, they were alone for the first time since their "engagement."

"How long will your parents be visiting?"

Ned's eyebrows rose. "What are you considering?"

Nancy glanced in the direction his parents had gone, as though making sure they were truly alone. "An opportunity has arisen, and the sooner I can take advantage of it, the better," she replied. "I will need help, though, and I would prefer yours."

"Always," he said immediately.

Her smile made his heart rise painfully. "I am much obliged."

Ned had thought Nancy was probably being modest about her skill, and she proved him correct. He turned pages for her, and soon they were all singing together. She had a beautiful voice. Several times Ned's gaze met hers and they shared warm smiles. He was pretty sure part of her excitement was due to his promise to help her, but he hoped that wasn't all of it.

Nancy finished a song and sat back, shaking out her hands a little as she released a soft laugh. Ned could see moisture at her temples and hairline.

"I'll bring you some lemonade," he told her. "Unless you would prefer a few minutes outside, as a break?"

A definite gleam of interest came to her eye. "Both, please," she replied with a smile. "Thank you, darling."

Despite himself, Ned's heart warmed. "Always, my love."

Ned's parents excused them with knowing, happy looks, and Nancy put her lemonade down before they walked out into the back garden. If they had been on his family estate, the night would have stretched out before them, miles of quiet darkness. Here, they were close enough to see lights in other houses. Truly, London never really seemed to sleep.

"What do you need me to do?"

She turned to face him fully, and gazed up into his eyes. All her attention was focused on him. It was a heady feeling. "To pose as my husband again," she replied. "Frank is willing to help me track down another woman, and can claim a slight acquaintance to help, but I'm not interested in posing as his wife. Frank can determine the likely location, you and I can investigate and recover her, and Frank can stay for the remainder of his visit, blameless."

Ned blinked. She wasn't interested in posing as Frank's wife, but as his. "We would be staying nearby?"

"At an inn. Hence the need for a chaperone." Nancy made a quiet, huffing sound of frustration. "I'd travel by myself if I could. But you did prove quite helpful."

Ned chuckled when he realized she was teasing him, a little. "I'll do my best to prove helpful again," he replied. "When do we leave?"

"He has a prior engagement, so as soon as he can complete that. Possibly next week."

Ned nodded. The distance between them was so small, but he wasn't touching her, and he desperately wanted to touch her. "All the men you asked me about. You suspect each of them has a woman captive."

Nancy nodded. She searched his eyes silently. Ned had met many women who were compelled to fill silence, as though afraid of it, of intimacy or companionship or familiarity. Bright patter served as a buffer to keep the listener away. Nancy wasn't doing that with him, and he found himself drawn ever closer to her, to gaze into her sweet blue eyes. No wonder other men had proposed to her. They had mistaken her assurance and confidence for attraction.

And every time Ned suspected that he was doing the same, all he had to do was gaze into her eyes. This wasn't all in his mind.

She glanced away for a second. "Your parents seem very nice," she said, almost reluctantly.

"They are," he agreed. Then he realized. "You're imagining their reaction when you break our engagement."

"Trying not to, actually."

Ned smiled and reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We could take the absolutely most cowardly way out," he suggested. "Just never set a wedding date. Together we can find all the women you're searching for. And then..." He shrugged slightly.

Her smile was quick. "That list wasn't all of them."

Ned's mouth dropped open. "I... misheard you," he said faintly, a moment later. "Surely..."

"There are more. Of course, in general," she waved her hand, "other women have been trafficked by other men, other organizations. I won't be able to single-handedly end that. I'll help all I can, of course. But even were you to promise to help me with the ones who... were on the list, I can't promise we would be finished by Christmas."

"All the more reason to leave our engagement open-ended."

Ned was smiling, but Nancy didn't return it as she tilted her head. "And once you find a suitable bride..."

Ned's heart clenched painfully. He already had, he thought. "I'll say that you and I have been growing apart for some time, and privately ended our betrothal by mutual consent. I doubt you wish our charade to extend to public events, balls...?"

"I can swear to nothing," she admitted. "All I can guarantee is that we may occasionally find ourselves in dangerous or uncomfortable situations, and that I've not yet been bested. A lock of hair curled around my finger and a suitably breathless voice can cover a multitude of sins."

Ned did his best not to picture that, and failed miserably. "I may ask you to demonstrate."

Nancy narrowed his eyes. "To build your own immunity to it?"

"I doubt that's possible," he told her, sincerely. "So I can try it myself, of course."

Nancy burst into laughter, covering her mouth, her eyes dancing. "Oh, my dear Lord Musgrave," she murmured. "You would never."

He brought the hand he was still holding to his lips, and pressed a kiss against it. "I'm sure another multitude of sins may be covered by our being discovered in an amorous embrace," he pointed out.

Her cheeks were still pink from her laughter, but she frowned at his words.

Ned's brow furrowed, then cleared. "The other men who helped you. I take it they have suggested similar tactics."

"Unsuccessfully," she replied, her voice hard.

Ned raised an eyebrow. "But in the cottage..."

Nancy tugged gently at her hand, and he reluctantly released it from his grip. "Count yourself lucky that you didn't hobble back to the main house," she replied, picking up her skirts and sweeping past him.

--

The past few days had been dizzying. Nancy had been persuaded to assist at a garden show benefiting local widows, and that had been an exhausting, rewarding day. Bess had invited her over to talk to Mary and a few of the other women, and she had discovered some new clues thanks to that. She had even managed to squeeze in an appointment with her dressmaker; Bess had come along to make sure Nancy didn't just pick out a pattern virtually identical in style and color to the majority of the rest of her wardrobe.

It wasn't that Nancy didn't enjoy being fashionable, to a degree. But the pattern and material Bess had practically insisted Nancy select were... possibly too fashionable.

"We aren't selecting my trousseau," Nancy had reminded Bess.

"But once he sees you in this, you might be," Bess replied with a wicked grin.

Tonight she was to accompany Ned and his parents to Vauxhall, which she was both dreading and anticipating. The more time she spent with Ned's parents, the more she found herself liking them, and that was bad. Ned's suggestion that their engagement not end in a formal announcement was also bad. Nancy didn't need this hanging over her head, although when Bess pressed her on why, Nancy was unable to enunciate it. She had a strong hunch that being around Ned for too long would...

Well. It would turn him into someone whose presence she no longer enjoyed. She was already painfully aware of his feelings for her, and they would likely only grow over time. A long engagement, familiarity, a growing chasm between what they had agreed upon and what he was willing to do. He could plan a wedding, set a date, obtain a license, invite people, and she would be in an impossible situation.

Not that she believed he would. But she had been wrong about men before.

She had been to Vauxhall before, as a member of a large group, but the night had ended abruptly thanks to a downpour. Bess had been devastated, as she had been doing her best to hold Lord Cavendish's attention. Nancy hadn't been particularly upset. She had shared a few lingering kisses with a rake who flirted outrageously and professed to be utterly smitten with her, but neither of them had wanted anything more. The rain had been a happy, natural ending to it all.

On the night Nancy accompanied Ned and his family, they sat and listened to the music for a while, enjoying strawberries and champagne, greeting acquaintances. Then, when Ned suggested that he could take Nancy for a stroll, his parents replied with warm, knowing smiles and gave their immediate consent.

No one was under any illusion about what a stroll meant. Other couples, some of them loosely chaperoned by friends, wandered around the maze, finding benches and alcoves for more personal "conversations." Some of them vanished into shadow, and Nancy kept her gaze averted as she walked with her arm through Ned's.

She had already had to nod and smile her thanks twice tonight at being congratulated on her engagement. This would only help with that story.

But Nancy was still reluctant about all of it. Granted, it was a fantastic excuse for her to be seen with Ned, and if anyone of either of their acquaintance found them clearly staying at the same coaching inn or house party, that person likely wouldn't be scandalized. She was used to being herself while she wasn't investigating a mystery, though, and this subterfuge was a constant discomfort. She wouldn't mind having a reputation as a sexually frigid, prudish miss, but someone else might see her with Ned and think she was available after their engagement evaporated.

She shuddered slightly.

"Cold?" Ned asked immediately, glancing over at her. He placed his hand over her arm, and his skin was so warm. He was always so warm.

"No. Just... thinking about repercussions."

Ned chuckled softly. The low, rich sound of his voice nearly sent another shiver down her spine, and she furiously damned the champagne. "To a stroll?"

"To my being seen with you, and assumptions about my availability people might make once you're no longer a part of my life."

She wasn't looking at him, but she heard a soft sigh. "Well, there's an easy way around that," he said, his tone light, or at least as light as he could make it.

"There is." She paused. "Emigration."

"Why begin a new life somewhere else when you could just begin one here under a new name?"

Despite herself, Nancy smiled.

"If being seen with me will damage your reputation so thoroughly."

"It just might," she replied, her own voice quiet. "I received a letter from Frank today. He hopes that we would be able to travel within the next five days. Sometimes, though..." She gestured with her free hand. "He can be too optimistic. I wonder how long we'll be chafing at the inn while he's searching for clues."

"I would suggest activities to make the time pass more quickly, but as I don't relish the thought of an elbow in the ribs..." Ned's fingers were slowly stroking over hers, and that was causing an entirely unwelcoming tingling. "If your goal is to seek all the women procured by the men on your list, maybe we could do something toward that while awaiting Frank's summons."

"Given the natural reluctance to discuss the women in question, I'm not sure what could be done, other than interviews."

"Yes. But I know a lot of people, and not all of them are in London. If one of the men in question were invited to a house party..."

"Or all of them," Nancy replied, half-musingly, half-mockingly. Would that her life were so easy.

Ned tapped his chin. "It would be an elegant solution, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe." And incredibly dangerous, unless handled correctly. It was just a dream, though. She lacked the resources and social standing to pull it off. "To return to your main point, a house party?"

"Yes. If we were also invited, and if the man brought his captive along..."

Nancy tilted her head and considered. "Would it be hard for you to travel with a woman as a member of your retinue? As a single man, I mean."

"Yes. But I believe it would depend on the man's cover story. If he's pretending the woman is a domestic servant in his household..."

"He'd have no reason to bring her along to a house party, unless he traveled with a woman who agreed to have the captive pose as her lady's maid. Then she would be a party to the disgusting behavior."

They continued strolling through the maze, keeping their voices quiet to avoid being easily overheard, and Nancy found herself reluctantly impressed. Ned really was a good conversational partner. He considered what she said; he didn't just wait for her to stop talking so he could start, and he didn't monopolize. And he caught on quickly, offering good ideas and suggestions.

She really didn't want to get used to this.

Nancy had no idea where they were; she was completely absorbed in what Ned was saying when a sudden pop startled them both. They stopped and glanced around, trying to identify the source, when Ned chuckled and pointed up. "Can't believe I forgot," he commented.

The fireworks display hadn't happened the night of Nancy's previous visit. She stood speechless, dazzled by the show before them, Ned's arm still linked through hers. Sighs and delighted cries of appreciation rose in unison from the other spectators, but Nancy and Ned were silent, lost in the moment.

At the end, Nancy's heart was still pounding some, and she turned to Ned, her expression full of the simple wonder of it all. His gaze met hers and he smiled at her, but his smile soon faded, replaced by—

Longing.

A part of her registered each movement as he made it, acknowledging that she could just take a large step back, but she kept failing to do so. He turned toward her, standing altogether too close to her, and his hand rose to cup her cheek. She searched his eyes, her lips still parted.

The kiss he pressed to her mouth was soft and sweet, not the furious claiming of an impassioned lover. He didn't wrap his arms around her and cage her to him; only the press of their lips and the warmth of his palm against her cheek connected them. They weren't in the cottage, they hadn't just spotted a former flame of his, they didn't need to justify to his parents why they had been gone so long.

And still she found herself returning it. For a brief, disastrous second she wondered what he would do if she took a step forward, another, backing him into a shadow-veiled alcove where they would be in relative privacy.

A heartbeat later, a lifetime later, he pulled back an inch, his palm still against her cheek. Nancy closed her eyes.

"Well," Ned murmured. "If I'll be hobbling back to my parents in the next few minutes... a large part of me will consider this worth it."

Ned was in high spirits.

As he and Nancy had set out on their journey to rescue another helpless victim, Nancy had initially been doing her best to freeze him out, which he had expected. He'd figured out that she reacted to any kind of intimacy by swinging as far the other way as she possibly could, which let him know that it was definitely having an impact on her. He just cheerfully kept up his side of the conversation with speculation and observations until she reluctantly began to join in, then forgot her reluctance and abandoned it altogether. When they climbed out of the carriage in the yard of the best inn in the nearby village, they were both warm and flushed with laughter, and she had never looked more becoming.

This, though.

"This is the best they have?" Ned muttered quietly through lips that didn't move.

Nancy shrugged, taking a few steps forward, toward the bedroom that had been designated as hers. "It will do," she replied.

"For whom? The mice nesting in the bedding?"

Saying that the room had seen better days was charitable; possibly it had, but Ned wasn't convinced. The ceiling and walls were waterstained, and the proprietor hadn't even seen fit to attempt to cover them. The couch sagged, and a badly-mended chair stood in one corner. He could hear a mouse, or more likely a colony full, having what sounded like a merry chase in the walls.

And Nancy was just brushing it off.

Ned set his jaw and stepped forward, putting his hand on her arm before she could so much as drape her cloak over anything. "We'll find somewhere else."

She turned to him with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me a big, strong man like you is afraid of a little mouse."

He bit back his immediate retort. "This is no place for a lady."

"A gentleman, I think you mean." A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Ned glanced around. "Look. I'll bet you ten pounds that, if you touch the bed in your room, your hand will come away damp. And that once it does, we will find somewhere better to spend the night. I believe even a well-appointed hayloft would be marginally better."

Nancy shook her head silently, then walked toward her bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Ned's impassive staff had them loaded up again, and Ned took his seat across from Nancy. She had her arms folded.

"I have an idea," he replied.

"Several," she replied archly, though her eyes were dancing. "As long as we're settled somewhere before we have to meet Frank tonight... lead on, Mr. Nickerson."

--

The man who arrived, summoned by the servant who had answered their knock, was utterly charming. He was flushed, his eyes bright with laughter, and his wavy dark-blond hair was mussed in a somehow still-attractive way. He was lean and trim, and a few inches shorter than Ned.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," the blond man said, flashing a grin at Nancy before returning his attention to Ned. "Found yourself nearby and in need of a good meal?"

"That, and a bit more," Ned admitted. "Nancy and I are in need of a place to stay for a few days, at least. We visited the inn, and..."

The blond man shuddered. "Say no more," he said, stepping back and gesturing to the house with an extravagant wave of his hand. "What's mine is yours, Musgrave."

Nancy managed to keep her eyebrows still as she followed Ned inside. Ned had actually asked for directions to this house, so she was fairly sure he had never been a guest here before, but the blond man clearly knew him. The house looked to be newly renovated, too, or at least updated with more fashionable drapes and upholstery. It was bright and spacious.

Nancy and Ned were shown to rooms across from each other, well-appointed guest rooms that she privately admitted were far more appealing than the miserable, gloomy suite at the inn. Bess would have had the same reaction Musgrave had, just for... well, probably the same reasons. Bess was incandescently happy as the wife to a wealthy man, who could indulge her tastes for the finer things in life while allowing her the freedom to be Nancy's accomplice, on occasion. And Musgrave did seem to appreciate the finer things in life, as well.

Ned didn't emerge from his rooms in what Nancy considered any reasonable amount of time, and when she had her maid inquire, Ned's valet informed him that the man in question was indulging in a bath. Restless, Nancy freshened up and wandered down to the main part of the house. She and Ned would be taking supper here before contriving some excuse to meet Frank—which would take a while. She was fairly sure the estate he was visiting was some miles distant.

At first, Nancy had been a little worried that Ned had been holding out on her, that he was actually taking her to the home of someone else on her infernal list, but their host's name didn't appear on it. He'd insisted that they call him Will, interrupting Ned's introduction, so his first name was apparently something dreadful. Still, Nancy liked him. He was very cheerful and agreeable, and he had let Ned get away with merely implying a serious relationship with Nancy. Nancy felt no compulsion about lying, but Will wasn't her friend, and she acknowledged that his alienating a vast network of possible resources all over England wouldn't help her investigation at all.

From another room, Nancy could hear someone practicing the pianoforte—badly, with a lot of stopping and starting over. She winced. While she'd had her own struggles learning the instrument, she was grateful to be well past that stage.

She was just considering taking a slow walk around the back garden when Will strode into the room. "Musgrave still taking his time, I see," he commented.

"He was appalled at the state of the inn," Nancy replied, letting a small smile cross her lips. "No doubt he's washing off the memory of vermin."

Will's expression changed slightly, and it took him a moment to speak again. "And how are you acquainted with Lord Musgrave?" he asked, offering her his arm with a gesture toward the back garden.

Nancy accepted with a nod, and they set out slowly, her arm linked through his. "The London Season," she replied. The closer she stuck to the truth, the less likely Ned would be to slip and reveal some part of their story as a lie. "The old story: our eyes met across a crowded room..."

Will chuckled. "And you were instantly smitten, as so many girls before you had been."

Nancy paused, considering for a second before answering, determined not to rise to the bait and wondering why it was being offered. Will was definitely an interesting character. "Actually, his persistence won me over," she replied. "I'm not the easiest conquest, and he can be very persuasive."

Will darted a glance at her, eyebrows up. A hint of delight sparkled in his eyes. "Can he now," Will drawled.

"When he sets his mind to it. How did you meet Lord Musgrave?"

Will sighed. "At school," he replied. "Boring, I know, but all great epics must begin somewhere."

By the time they sat down to dinner, Nancy was fairly bursting with a need to speak to Ned privately; she hadn't found one yet. She was also torn. They would be together on the journey to see Frank tonight, and she could definitely talk to him then, but...

She wasn't entirely sure she should say anything.

She swallowed her sigh. Bess's advice would be invaluable about now, but Nancy also knew she didn't have the self-control to write and wait for a response first. With any luck, she and Ned wouldn't even be here long enough to receive any mail.

Dinner was a lively affair. Nancy had been privately, begrudgingly looking forward to dining alone with Ned. No matter how hard she tried to freeze him out or outright ignore him, he found a way past her defenses, and that had become their own game. In front of Will's family, she had to perform again, and while it was second nature to her, she was also becoming infinitely tired of it. They hadn't spent the trip here planning an elaborate cover story, and if anyone asked anything pointed or specific, she would just have to defer to Ned and hope he had come up with something.

After all, she definitely hadn't planned on anything more than a side comment or two to any curious strangers. This...

Maybe it would serve him right if she pulled the same stunt again.

Eh. He'd be half-expecting it this time.

A female relative of about Nancy and Ned's age, whose exact relationship to Will Nancy had missed while internally debating, was likely the pianoforte mangler. She and a man of about their age as well, who looked like a more serious version of Will, were trying to convince Ned—and Nancy, as an afterthought—to join them for a post-dinner game of charades. Ned was begging off, claiming that a day of travel had worn them both out, but promising it would happen before they left.

Nancy did acknowledge that, distantly, she was exhausted. Nothing about their trip had been particularly easy; the only real positive had been the relatively short distance. Tonight, once they were back, she would almost certainly crash, even though she desperately wanted to reconnoiter. Frank would do his best to make sure they knew what they were getting into, but no one could plan for everything.

And the last thing she needed to do was create any friction or awkward feelings between Ned and their host.

She and Ned snuck out of the house as soon as they were able to do so. Ned's valet had arranged for the horses to be prepared, and they left the sounds of laughter and that sad, tortured pianoforte behind.

"We'll have to go back to the inn," she told Ned. "I don't have a frame of reference from here."

"I understand."

The inn was a welcoming golden glow against the darkness, and the sound of carousing, laughter, and singing reached them. Nancy shook her head with a wry chuckle. "Still happy with your decision?"

"Just because it's a popular nightspot doesn't mean those beds were meant for—" Ned stopped himself and closed his mouth. "Comfort," he finished, clearly having changed his mind mid-sentence.

"Surely you aren't trying to scandalize me, Lord Musgrave."

"I could never," he replied, and he didn't sound like he was joking. "Lead on, my lady."

After a few minor wrong turns, they found the path and secured their horses, setting off on foot for the last leg of their journey. Nancy was wearing an old dress made of dark material, and an equally old, nondescript cloak. Ned wore the equivalent, Nancy had been happy to see.

They were just concentrating on picking the path through the woods, avoiding tree branches and roots, downed limbs and puddles. Nancy took a long breath when they reached a clearing. That exhaustion had drawn a little closer, but she was still staving it off. She needed to get through the next hour or so with a clear head.

"Will seems... quite fond of you," Nancy said, trying to keep her tone neutral. If she sensed that Ned would react badly, she would just change the topic, but she had no intention of giving voice to her suspicions.

Ned sighed. "Yes. I was hoping he'd grow out of it..."

"Oh?"

"At school, there was some... hero-worship, I suppose. I knew he would likely be at the estate, and would put us up for a little while if he were home."

"Mmm. He... was trying to make me jealous, I think. When he and I took a turn around the garden this afternoon."

Ned laughed, though he kept it quiet. They definitely didn't need to alert anyone to their presence here. "You have nothing to be jealous of, from that front."

Nancy paused. "Do you... judge him for his... fondness? His hero-worship?"

Ned shook his head. "Why should I? He's always been respectful, and knows I value his friendship. He's great at parties, at games... I do actually intend to honor that charades promise, and if you do too, trust me, you won't regret it."

Nancy smiled. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, glancing away only when Ned began to turn his face toward her, and she pretended furious concentration on the uneven ground before them.

Lord Musgrave was definitely full of surprises. She didn't need to find any more reasons to—

To... deepen whatever this was between them.

This thing.

This unwelcome thing.

A few minutes later, he was holding her hand and they were picking over rough terrain together, balancing together, and she couldn't find it in her to release his hand once they found level ground again. They only relaxed their grip on each other when they approached the stable at the estate neighboring the one where Frank was staying, and headed toward the massive tree that was to serve as their landmark for the meeting.

"Finally," Frank murmured as they approached. Ned thought he caught a flicker of envy in the other man's eyes as he glanced between the two of them.

"What have you discovered?" Nancy asked, struggling to keep her voice down and level. After the stress of the day, the tension felt almost unbearable now.

"Well, after feigning an entirely ridiculous interest in architecture, I've managed to tour much of the main house. There are still a few possibilities there; in one wing, a few rooms are closed thanks to some vague storm damage, and those seem a likely bet."

Nancy glanced over at Ned in dismay. Sneaking into the dower house at the other estate hadn't been so bad; they hadn't needed to avoid servants or residents. If the woman they were seeking was in the main house, on an upper story, that would create its own problems.

Ned spoke up. "Will you be able to confirm the location before we attempt a rescue?"

Frank turned a nearly haughty glance on Ned before he appeared to catch himself. Nancy was amused to see it. In his eyes, Musgrave was an upstart, an outsider. Frank trusted Nancy's abilities because he had seen them in action so many times; he only had her word on Ned's. "I've managed a few passing words with a kitchen maid. I'll see if she's preparing and delivering trays, or knows of someone else taking trays to a room..."

Ned nodded. "I see," he answered, a bit hastily.

Frank turned back to Nancy. "Meet back here two nights from now? Be ready to go in, but I can't guarantee it."

After explaining where they were actually staying, in case Frank needed to contact them with any urgency, they bid Frank a brief farewell and turned back toward where they had left the horses.

Well. It wasn't like Nancy had expected Frank to work miracles... or, at least, she hadn't quite realized she had. Two more nights wasn't the end of the world.

Still. She slumped a little, and when Ned reached for her hand, she accepted the comfort.

--

"May I ask...?"

Nancy's hand was still in Ned's, but he was able to read her expression thanks to a luckily-placed shaft of moonlight as they walked together. She looked wary, now. But he was curious, and this seemed like an excellent opportunity.

"The women whose captors were named on your list. How... Did you personally know one?"

Nancy sighed, and didn't answer for so long, her face turned away from his, that he thought she wasn't going to answer at all. Then, after she almost stumbled over a tree root and he helped her regain her balance, she squeezed his hand.

"Women refer other women to me," she said. "Which is what happened. A woman's friend was missing and no one seemed to care. She asked for my help, as a kind of last resort. I went to her place of employment and discovered she had last been seen handed up into a very nice carriage." She cleared her throat. "And then I started seeing the pattern. The owner of that very nice carriage had been busy. Over the past year, apparently he had spirited away several young women. A few girls. A—boy."

Ned, caught off balance and utterly engrossed in her story, very nearly clotheslined himself with a tree branch.

"I identified his usual methods, and it took me a few tries, but I managed to catch his attention."

"How?"

She glanced over at him. Her face, in the pale moonlight, was rigid, somehow. Tight. "Sometimes high-born women find themselves in reduced circumstances, and do what they can to make their lives easier. And some are left with no other option. He preyed on women who had little else available to them; he made promises he could never keep. That carriage was like some sort of pit of hell. It swallowed them alive. Women who, you'd think, would know better. And he—even knowing, he just looked like a kindly old man. Completely unthreatening." She shuddered.

Ned adjusted his grip on her hand to hold it more firmly. He could feel how cold she was, even through that contact. "So he approached you and made an offer."

She nodded. "I found out that most of his victims were matched to his clients' wishes, that they could request height, coloring, things they found appealing. Some were less choosy."

Her pace had quickened, he realized belatedly. As though she was doing her best to escape this conversation.

"Some men will pay highly to bed an innocent."

Ned choked on air. He'd have bet anything that she was innocent; she seemed so naive about some things. But he was terrified about where her story might be going.

"I called in a favor, let it be known that I was making inquiries. Within three days, he was sniffing around." She shivered again. "He promised that he knew a man who wanted someone exactly like me, that he'd pamper and spoil me and shower me in gifts and affection. The carriage waiting at the street was exactly the one I'd been seeking. He was the man. All I had to do was accompany him to his country home, where he would broker the deal."

Finally, he could tell they were getting close to where they had left the horses. Ned was terrified that she would just trail off, interrupt herself by giving him a bright smile and an invitation to guess the rest himself.

Ned had a feeling that no matter what he guessed or imagined, it wouldn't be as bad as the rest of her story.

"That 'country home' was where he was keeping the women he was training."

"Training?" Ned hadn't meant to ask, but the word slipped out anyway.

She nodded. "Via humiliation, degradation, repeated abuse. Some men want a woman who has been broken, who will provide the passive—partnership they desire. And some men want to do the breaking."

Ned felt sick. "He took you there."

She nodded. "My goal was to find the missing girl, but all the people there were missing. Two women had been shipped back to him so he could rid them of unwanted pregnancies. Because he was a doctor, you see." She glanced over at him, as though gauging his reaction. "A doctor, doing this. Selling women into servitude, humiliation, captivity, to line his own pockets." She actually spat in contempt, a gesture that left Ned both shocked and strangely thrilled by her.

"You found her, didn't you? The girl you were seeking?"

Nancy nodded. "It took me a while. I had to endure a—session with him." She shuddered again. "While he kept his word that his client really was apparently expecting someone untouched in that way, so that client did exist, he..." She trailed off into silence.

Ned couldn't speak. He just watched her, and when she swallowed and coughed, then gave her head a brisk shake and tried a smile, his heart ached for her.

"Where is he now?"

"Dead," she replied, almost immediately. "Burned in his own home. I found his office and grabbed as many of his records as I could find, but I know it wasn't all of them. Some of the women he sold knew of other women, who had been taken and—cultivated, at the same time they were. We—I've been trying to do what I can, to get them back."

"We?" he asked quietly, having caught the slip.

"Bess, Lady Cavendish, is helping," she admitted, sounding reluctant to discuss it at all. "The girl you met at the ball we both attended? The one with Lady Cavendish? She is... a survivor, of that repugnant, reprehensible man. I realized that there was nowhere to return to, no life waiting for them, so Bess and I are working together to help them make new lives for themselves." She darted a glance at Ned again. "And if you tell anyone, I'll..."

"Hobble me," he replied. "And yes, I understand. I am surprised, though."

She released a rough, bitter laugh. "At which part?"

Ned considered. "All of it?" he replied, as they closed the last of the distance to the horses. He wordlessly offered his assistance to her, and when she silently refused, he settled for helping her boost into the saddle. Then he set to work untying his own horse. "He burned?"

She nodded. She wasn't looking at him.

His stomach shrank. "It was an accident," he said, and he didn't inflect it as a question.

Her lips tightened in a thin, grim smile, too quickly. He could tell this conversation was hurting her, and he was very surprised she hadn't just stopped talking; he knew she was more than capable of it. But he was also far too curious about her story to stop her and possibly never find out anything more about it.

"I didn't set the fire," she said, once they had set off at a moderate pace, close enough to still hear each other without raising their voices too much. The night around them was so utterly still, and chilly. "I also didn't save him from it. I couldn't imagine a more perfect justice, and I was there when the other women he had taken watched it happen too. We did not lift a finger."

"I don't blame you."

"Nor should you," she shot back immediately, defensive, a flush high in her cheeks. She swallowed and visibly forced herself to relax. "I—I wish it were not so, but the experience impacted me deeply. I've devoted myself to tracking down the women who were placed into unimaginable circumstances by his greed and depravity."

"Yes," he agreed. "And even if... circumstances had been different, what you're doing is more than worthwhile." He paused. "I just wish I could do more to help."

--

When Nancy closed the door of her borrowed room behind her, tears were standing in her eyes. She blinked them away impatiently, reaching for the ties of her dress, but gave up after a frenzy of impassioned struggling. She needed her maid, but she didn't want anyone to see her this way.

It's not always like that.

Ah, God. She shouldn't have told him. Under no circumstances should she have told him.

She collapsed onto the armchair before the low fire and buried her face in her hands.

In the morning, she would just brazen through, and it would be as though tonight hadn't happened. When they returned to Frank to find out his progress, she would talk about anything else, and hope he was tactful enough to recognize her strategy. After this—

After this, despite his renewed offer to help, she really should leave him behind.

But they were entangled now. In public, he was her fiancé. His presence did provide some measure of comfort, loath as she was to admit it.

And she found herself curious about him. Every attempt she had made to put some distance between them, he had rebounded from. He was witty, charming, unexpected... and so incredibly appealing, on a level that she didn't often experience, that she hadn't experienced since her return from that awful case. Bess had often declared that Nancy was more interested in mysteries than kisses, that it would take an extraordinary man to capture her attention for very long.

And he had managed it.

He knows, now. He didn't change the subject and look away and freeze me out. Even when she had found herself becoming prickly and defensive, responding to a reaction she had only expected, not actually seen.

Tonight she would bury it all, all over again. In the morning, he would be polite and the very picture of solicitousness, and she would ignore his reasons, and they would return to who they had been during the trip here. Everything would be fine.

She gave herself a brisk nod, as though her confirmation would cement it into reality.

She stood, then winced. Her stubborn pride would leave her sleeping in her damned dress, but even though she glanced at the bell pull, she couldn't make herself approach it, not yet. She wrinkled her nose as she glanced down. What she really wanted was a long bath, to wash away the scent of sweat and horseflesh. The morning would be soon enough.

She set to work finding a knife. If she could twist around and sever a lace, at least that would give her a fighting chance.

She had just found the small, sharp pearl-handled knife in her trunk when she heard a very quiet tap-tap-tap at her door. Given her already fragile state, she approached the door brandishing the knife, the memory of those dancing flames all too real again.

Ned was standing there, looking rumpled and tired, but when he caught sight of the knife, he gasped quietly and took a half-step back. "I—I'm sorry?"

She glanced at the knife too, then deliberately placed it on the tall dresser and forced a smile. "Yes?"

"I was going to find the kitchen and grab something to eat, and I didn't know if you might want something too—The knife?"

The smile became a little more genuine. "Sartorial mishap."

"If it's that serious, please let me offer my assistance." He took a step forward. Nancy swallowed as she stood back, allowing him inside, and closed the door behind him.

The fire provided very little light, and Nancy hadn't bothered to light a candle or lantern. She did so now as Ned waited, and her heart was in her throat. Surely she wasn't truly going to do this.

Surely she was quivering a little at the very idea.

She cleared her throat when she returned to him with the lantern, and when her gaze met his, her entire body felt uncomfortably aware of his, his height, his muscular frame, his unbearably handsome face. "I can't get my dress off," she admitted.

He nodded once, a tiny gesture, and she saw his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"You may need the knife," she said, then turned her back toward him.

He sounded slightly strangled as he replied, "You'd want me to damage the dress?"

"Not really, but in my attempts to loosen it, I may have made things much worse."

After a brief pause, Ned touched the laces for the first time, and Nancy couldn't help stiffening in answer, fighting her impulse to signal some terrifying willingness to him. Especially after what she had told him, that would definitely send the wrong message.

Although, from another perspective, scaring him away so totally would eliminate much of this impossible tangle. Maybe she wouldn't need to intentionally cut him out; maybe he would do so himself, eager to distance himself from a woman so damaged, so disastrous. They had never truly meant to have a genuine relationship, and this would help make that decision for him.

She felt a hard lump rise in her throat, and her hand clenched into a fist as she felt tears burn at the back of her eyes.

Ned made a frustrated sound, and then his warm palms were cupping her waist as he angled her slightly, doubtless turning her so more light was thrown on the problem. "Mmm," he muttered, as her nipples tightened, as she clenched both fists again.

The whole process was torture, but she couldn't make herself stop him. He picked at the knots, using excruciating care, and released a soft triumphant cry as she felt the laces finally begin to loosen. He worked them free gently, expertly, and she realized again that while her own experience might have been aberrant in the extreme, Ned freely admitted to having much of the other kind. That other women had enjoyed these ministrations much as she had, and that more women would after...

Ugh. Ugh.

He finished loosing her dress and then he was no longer in contact with her, and Nancy turned to face him as the garment slipped down from her shoulders, leaving her just in her shift. Ned swallowed again, his gaze flicking downward once.

She opened her mouth, forcing herself to speak, to say something, anything. Anything to diffuse this unbearable tension. Her dress fell to the floor, caught in the grip of one hand, and she stepped out of it automatically. "Thank you. You mentioned a snack?"

A quick movement caught her eye. Ned was closing and relaxing his own hand.

"I—I did, but... if that man hadn't burned, I would have..." He shook his head. "I don't know. Likely done it myself. I'm so sorry that happened. I'm so sorry you were hurt that way when all you wanted to do was help."

Tears pooled and shimmered in her eyes, and she sucked in a sharp breath to keep herself under control. "You should save your sympathy for all his other victims."

"What they endured, what they continue to endure, is a... I don't have a proper word for it. It's late, and all I would say there is unfit for your ears." He smiled briefly, and took a tiny step closer to her. "But they aren't standing before me, and you are. And this isn't a competition. What happened to you was unconscionable, too."

She tipped her chin up. Anger was quivering in her, that he would bring this up, that he would feel sorry for her, but she couldn't look away from his dark eyes, his brows creased, his gaze tender on her. She despised being seen as weak, but she had no one to blame for this situation but herself.

She sniffled. "Thank you for your concern," she said, her voice quivering slightly. She glanced down, draping her discarded dress over her arm.

"Is that... why you decided never to marry?"

She bit back her first instinct, to respond with heavy sarcasm, with massive effort. "It certainly didn't help," she replied, "but no. I can lay much at that monster's feet, but not that particular decision."

"Good." He took another step toward her. The distance between them was rapidly closing, and then he reached up and cupped her cheek with his palm, using his thumb to wipe away the tear that had tracked down her face.

She closed her eyes. Her heart was heavy. She needed to sleep; everything would feel clearer in the morning. Everything would make more sense in the morning.

But that particular experience never had.

She was so focused on finding those other victims, but no one was going to do the same for her. To snatch them from the horrifying embrace of the men who had bought them, as though that would rewrite her own experience somehow. As though it would atone for the sin she had never actually committed.

She felt Ned's breath on her cheek.

The dress fell to the floor again, and she reached up and twined her arms around his neck, blindly. Her cheeks were still wet, cool from her tears, and Ned reached down to boost her, and her feet were off the floor and her entire front was pressed against him, and—

"I..."

She tipped her face up, her lips slightly parted, and then his mouth was pressed to hers.

Ned was waiting for a ringing slap, a knee slamming into him, the rake of fingernails against his skin, but they never came.

Before he had even realized it, they bumped against her bed, then stumbled onto it. Her mouth was hot against his, her tongue moving in tentatively reply against his, and she was already so close to naked that a part of his brain seemed to have entirely stopped working. He had imagined this situation far too many times, in a few different variations, and his body knew what he wanted.

But after everything, knowing how she would likely respond to this tomorrow, he was afraid. Just not quite afraid enough to stop completely.

He settled for pulling back a little.

Nancy was underneath him, panting, her lashes low. He could see her flesh through the thin material of her shift, and a stab of desire hit him. He reached up and covered her breast with his palm, and she arched, her eyes closing, her lips parting.

He groaned softly.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. And if she came back to herself, if she put the mask back on and shoved him away...

He brushed his thumb over her nipple, once, and she gasped.

"More?"

She nodded twice, almost reluctantly.

He smiled briefly, then replaced his thumb with his mouth, suckling against her through her shift.

She gasped, shifting to draw one knee up. Ned trailed his hand up her thigh, ticklish slow, waiting for her to refuse or push him away. He scraped his teeth over her nipple and she bucked under him.

She made a choked sound and Ned pulled back. "Too much?"

"Mmm." Her gaze rose to his as she swept her hair off her cheek, then nodded. He saw a hint of fear in her eyes, and took his hand off her thigh.

He sat up.

She made a quiet sound of protest. "I... I'm sorry," she said, gazing up at him. Then she set her jaw, in a gesture he was finding increasingly familiar. "I'm still interested in... this, I just... more slowly?"

He smiled, slowly, then nodded. "Look, if you're upset by this..."

She glanced away. The wet fabric covering her breast was translucent now, which was a distraction Ned definitely didn't need. "Bess... told me that what I experienced, that... night, wasn't normal. Of course it wasn't. Most of me knows that. But I have nothing else to compare it to, and... maybe..."

"Maybe I could give you something positive to compare it to," he filled in, when she trailed off.

"Yes." She gave him a small smile that faded quickly. "If you aren't completely repelled by me."

His eyebrows rose. "Entirely the opposite," he replied. "Apparently I haven't made that clear. Let me try again."

He moved over her, with delicious deliberation, slow and confident. He watched her expression shift between anxiety, anticipation, desire, and hunger.

"This doesn't change our arrangement."

"Of course it does." His gaze flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes. "I'm in bed with my fiancée. Do you think I won't compromise you in every possible way, until you realize that you don't have to fight this? We can just fall into it, together."

She opened and closed her mouth. "So you don't believe I am already? Compromised?"

He smiled briefly. "I wouldn't give a damn if you'd had several relationships, partners, before we met, and you're asking if one disgusting bastard's mistreatment of you means you're compromised? No. Not any more than those women you're trying to help were made worthless by the mistreatment they suffered."

Then his thumb stroked over her breast again, and the quiet moan she released made him settle his weight between her thighs.

"You'll tell me if I do something that makes you uncomfortable."

She nodded. He saw her fingers clench into a fist and relax as he stroked her.

"Or anything like what that monster did to you."

She opened her eyes wide, and he felt her tense under him. "I," she began, then cleared her throat. "I'm not bound or begging you to stop, so..."

"He bound you?"

Ned had to stop touching her when she nodded; he was too afraid of anger making his movements rough. "I fought hard," she admitted. "But he pressed a place on my arm and it went numb." She started to say something else, then shook her head.

Ned's voice was hushed, husky, when he spoke again. "I'm glad he's dead, and I'm glad it hurt."

She smiled. There was no humor in it. "I'm glad I was able to see it," she whispered. "I didn't watch, but... I heard him, and I was glad."

He leaned down and kissed her again, open-mouthed, his tongue sliding against hers. She looped her arm around his neck and held him to her, and her knees parted wide, as though in welcome.

"You're incredible," he whispered against her ear, as they panted after the kiss. "My God, Nancy. There's no one in the world like you."

He felt the vibration of her silent laughter as he kissed her throat. "There are. It's just that most of them don't wear dresses."

"Exactly." He stroked his hand over her thigh again, but through fabric instead of directly against her skin. "Gorgeous, incredibly smart, and so brave."

"Not foolhardy and lucky."

"I've seen you work. You make your luck." He trailed kisses down to the creamy soft curve of her breast, above her stays, above her pink pebbled nipple. "I'm honored to call you my fiancée."

He heard, felt her draw a breath, and then he suckled against her other nipple, slowly. She didn't protest as he slowly tugged her shift down, exposing her fully, then drew her bared nipple into his warm mouth.

She cried out quietly, her hips shifting again. She didn't seem like she would be content to remain a passive receiver of his attentions, and given what she had revealed...

He covered her other breast with his palm, then began to idly stroke her nipple back and forth with his thumb as he suckled. The stimulation had her moving restlessly under him by the time he finally pulled back again.

"Take your clothes off," he said, gazing directly into her eyes.

She was flushed when she sat up, and she took a moment to gather herself before she reached for her stays. Once she had decided, she made quick work of her clothes.

He moved toward her, but she shook her head. From what he could see, her expression was both playful and a little nervous. "Now you," she said, her voice so quiet he almost couldn't hear it.

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Of course," he murmured.

He stepped back and thumbed laces loose with a practiced hand, keeping his gaze on her as he took his clothes off. Her eyes were glittering, and she wasn't averting her gaze from his body, which he found a little intimidating, but mostly very, very alluring.

"Can you bring the lantern?"

His eyebrows flicked up, but he crossed to the dresser. Before retrieving the lantern, he picked up the key and asked silently if she would allow him to lock her door. She nodded, and he brought the lantern over to the bedside table.

"You aren't covering up," he noted, quietly.

She smiled slightly. "I'd prefer to be thorough," she replied. "Would you prefer that I cover myself?"

"No. Not at all."

She shifted, sitting up as he sat down on the bed, facing her. "Would you prefer that I not look at you?"

He grinned. "Not at all. I can't say I've ever been subjected to such scrutiny, but I don't object."

She raised a hand a few inches. "I believe I'm an unremarkable specimen," she said, her voice too perfectly casual. Then she raised her gaze to his, her eyebrows flicking up briefly.

"You're beautiful," he replied, searching her eyes. "If that's what you mean."

"Not really." She did blush slightly, he saw. "Are you unremarkable?"

Despite himself, Ned glanced down at his lap, then back up at her. "I don't know that any man would like to hear himself described as unremarkable, especially like this," he replied. "But I suppose a dose of humility isn't the end of the world. As far as I know, I'm more fit, but otherwise rather like most men."

Her fingers moved slightly again. He watched as she cautiously stretched a hand toward him, resting it on his upper thigh. He swallowed, feeling a definite answering tingle.

"So, you—he—didn't...?"

"I focused on his face." She swept her gaze over him, all of him, again. "He didn't expose himself, or at least I don't remember him doing so. Much of that night is..." She gave a small shrug, glancing away briefly.

"I can understand that," Ned replied softly.

The corners of her lips turned up again when she gazed at him again. "You're beautiful," she told him. "Other than that... strange part..."

He glanced down between his legs, as though he wasn't already familiar. "I believe it was designed for function, rather than beauty," he gently teased her.

"It looks very large. If I understand what it... what it is meant to do."

Ned grinned again; he couldn't help himself. "Well, darling, if I am to understand this is the first specimen..."

She nodded.

"Then I'll accept that very qualified praise."

She drew her hand down to his knee. "What is it, to..." She made a vague gesture with her other hand, her gaze on his leg.

"To join?"

She nodded slightly.

He paused, considering. "I can be very detached about this, or..."

"However you feel comfortable. I'll stop you if I need further explanation."

He tapped a fingertip a few times against his knee, then reached over and gently caressed her knee, just as she was caressing his. The touch was barely erotic, but it was more than enough. "Were you to tell me you were interested in pursuing that tonight, I'd spend a significant amount of time kissing you, caressing you, exploring you. Each woman is different. So joining to each woman is different."

"How different?"

He smiled again. "Not that different. But you doubtless have preferences."

"Which I could hardly identify for you."

"Mmm." He let himself gaze openly at her breasts for a moment. "Well, we know a little of what you don't like," he pointed out. "And the very fact that we're together like this right now, that you aren't shy about us seeing each other this way..."

She brought her gaze up to his face again. "We're discussing joining in one of the most intimate ways possible, I imagine," she replied. "Why should we not see each other? Experience each other fully?"

He chuckled. "To be perfectly honest, no other woman I've been with has been so forthright, in any sense."

She smiled. "Then maybe we shall both learn."

"Maybe you will be the one who compromises me."

She laughed at that. "I sincerely doubt that. So, we must engage in kisses and caresses to discover the next step?"

"Well, the goal is always to..."

He made a vague gesture, intending to somehow find the words, but she gestured with her fingertips. "Somehow fit that massive member in the hollow between my legs."

Ned opened his mouth, closed it again, and choked slightly before finding his voice. "Y-yes."

"That was the way he termed it. I think he intended to shock me."

Again, a wave of rage swept over Ned, and he mastered it with some difficulty. No wonder she wished to see what this was truly supposed to be; her sole experience so far had been horrific. "I can't imagine anyone saying it that way who didn't intend to shock," he agreed. Then he paused for a moment.

"What is it?"

"That is the goal for the man," he said. "Until this moment, I'm ashamed to say that I hadn't considered whether it's the ultimate goal for the woman."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"So much of what accompanies the act can be pleasurable," he replied. "When I touched and kissed your breasts. You found that pleasurable."

She blushed again, but nodded.

"I think some women grow to enjoy that... ultimate joining, but others seem to merely endure it."

Nancy considered that a moment, then straightened her spine and gazed into his eyes, as though steeling herself. "In your own experience?"

"Yes."

"Your previous... lovers. You have not made this a painful experience for them."

He shook his head. "I will admit that I was quite inexperienced the first few times, as you might imagine," he said. "I've learned how to make the experience more pleasurable for both myself and my partner."

She quirked her lips up. "We sound as if we're discussing your qualifications for some employment."

He flashed an answering smile. "Are we not? In a way?"

She shivered, then glanced down at the bed and began to maneuver herself under the sheets. "Were I to say that I don't want to reach that goal tonight..."

He'd been expecting it, but he still had to swallow his disappointment. "I would never force you to do that."

"If I say no, you would stop."

He was very briefly angry that she would doubt it, but sorrow replaced the anger. In her only other experience, the man abusing her had persisted despite her protests. Of course she was skittish. "Yes," he agreed, waiting for her slight nod of approval before he slid between the sheets, too. "Try it at any point, if you wish proof. I never want to harm you or make you feel unsafe."

She took a deep breath and let it out. "Between my legs feels... sensitive, sometimes. Right now." She met his gaze. "Maybe I am one of the women who would also desire that goal? Somehow. Right now I can't imagine it."

He moved a little closer to her, not yet touching her. "There is a small place between your legs that I could touch to pleasure you," he said. He held her gaze, though he felt uncomfortably self-conscious; he'd never done anything remotely like this strange instructive lesson before, and he had absolutely never seduced an innocent.

But this wasn't a seduction, not really. She had asked for him to show her an alternative, and he very much wanted to do that.

"But why would you?" Her voice was quiet as she searched his eyes. "Why are you here, even after I told you I didn't wish what you clearly want, not tonight?"

"Because giving pleasure to a woman I care deeply about is its own pleasure," he replied. "A selfish part of me wishes for you to associate me with that pleasure, for you to seek me out. To allow more nights like this one." He reached up and caressed her cheek, and even that simple contact made her tremble. "But most of all, to show you that what you experienced at the hands of that monster was an aberration, not normal behavior."

"He... put his hands between my legs, too," she said, not meeting his eyes. She looked deeply ashamed. "There was no pleasurable part of that."

"I doubt he intended there to be." Ned paused. "You've trusted me enough to let me this far. If you don't wish me to touch you there, I won't. I promise."

Her eyes were wide, more vulnerable than Ned thought he'd ever seen them, when she brought her gaze up again. "And if we... hold each other? Like this?"

Ned's heart was pounding when he swallowed. "We can definitely do that."

He didn't really expect it, but when she moved into his arms, her lips were grazing his cheek and then they were kissing again. He sank into the incredible joy of just being with her, feeling her bare skin against his. Her hand slid into his hair and he rested his palm against her back, careful not to touch her in any way he thought might upset her, but their kiss was eager and deep.

And then, somehow, she was on top of him, straddling him. Ned's surprise drowned under an overwhelming crush of desire, and he relaxed; at least this way, he wouldn't be pinning her down, possibly reminding her of that other experience.

"Experience" was the wrong word. Nightmare was better.

And even now, despite that, she was here with him.

She pulled back, panting a little. "Is this..." She trailed off when he grinned at her, and she grinned back in return. "This is okay."

"Far, far more than okay." He trailed his fingertips down her spine, and she shivered against him. He almost moaned at that singular sensation.

He saw a brief faltering in her eyes, a flicker of doubt, but then she leaned down again. Her knees were spread, and the join of her thighs was pressed against his abdomen, just above his throbbing member. It was enough to drive him mad. He could feel her slick, tender inner flesh pressed against his own bare skin, and when he imagined flipping her onto her back, studying her in the lantern light just as she had studied him, seeing trust and desire in her eyes instead of fear and defensiveness...

His hand slid down until it was just above her bottom. He was afraid to move it any lower.

"When you..." She broke the kiss and gasped the words out. "When you were—putting your mouth on me..."

He obliged almost immediately, sliding down the bed and catching a nipple in his mouth as she straddled him, and she released a moan that had him grasping his cock before he could help himself. She arched, and he could hear the arousal in her voice as she panted, as she responded to the stimulation.

He wanted, so so badly, to flip her onto her back and take control of this, but the last thing he wanted was to scare her. He massaged himself and reached climax after just a few strokes, and he relaxed under her with a long groan of relief. He caressed her more deliberately, slowly, and her heightened arousal made him smile.

"Ned," she moaned. "Oh..."

"Yes," he murmured, nuzzling against her, caressing her breast with a sweep of his tongue. "Yes, Nancy."

She shifted her weight and began to slowly grind against him, seeking friction between her legs, and Ned couldn't help groaning that time. He was very glad he had already relieved his own tension, at any rate. He didn't say anything, just kept suckling and fondling her, incredibly aroused by the feel of her muscles under his hand, having his hands on her as she pleasured herself against him.

She released a desperate groan. Then she jerked with a gasp, and swung off him. He was washed in cool air in her absence, fighting the urge to roll with her, onto her.

Instead, he took a deep breath. She was panting beside him, and he heard her whimper once, a quiet, almost wounded sound.

Ned turned onto his side slowly, hoping the motion wouldn't startle her.

She was flushed and so, so beautiful, reaching for the sheets, covering herself. She was shivering.

"Nancy," he whispered.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. He almost groaned when she opened them again. That openness, that tenderness, was being rapidly replaced now, and he supposed that he should have expected it, but he still acutely felt the loss.

"Am I compromised now, Ned?" She gazed into his face, and her voice was nearly even.

He sat up, gazing at her, measuring what to say.

"We're alone in a locked room. That's all it takes, doesn't it?"

Ned felt his own defensiveness rising in response to her anger, and managed to swallow it with some difficulty. "If you want to stop, you can just say so," he replied.

She growled, actually growled, and Ned kept his expression calm. Why had she stopped? Had she realized what they were doing and become afraid? Had something reminded her of that previous terrible experience?

"Answer the question."

He sighed. "What I said was a poor choice of words," he replied, "but the only audience I intend for this, is you. This isn't some public scandal, some social blackmail. I won't go to your father, tell him we've been intimate, and demand your hand in marriage. That's not what this is."

She just stared at him for a moment, her expression still hostile. Then she sat up and rubbed her palms against her face.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

She drew her bent knees up and hugged them. "I'm sorry," she said. "You've been as good as your word this far. And you've had more than ample time and opportunity to abuse me, had you wished it."

He stayed quiet for a long moment. "I have no wish to abuse you. I don't want to do anything you don't want."

She propped her chin on her knees, gazing toward the low fire. "I don't know what I want," she whispered.

"I would ask if you liked what we just did, but..."

She didn't answer. She just stared toward the fire. At least that angry expression had softened, but what had replaced it was almost worse.

"Nancy."

She pressed her lips together and relaxed them. "I'll see you in the morning," she said quietly, then glanced over at him.

He saw a hint of fear in her eyes, and that settled it for him. He rose without a word and gathered his clothes, and once he was dressed, he turned back toward her again. He didn't think she had moved.

He very nearly touched her, but stopped himself. "Thank you," he said softly. "For letting me do this with you. Whatever you need, if it's something I can provide... please tell me."

She quietly sniffled, then glanced up at him. He saw the path of her tears gleaming on her cheek, and his heart broke for her.

"Thank you," she murmured, her whisper almost imperceptible.

Their gazes held, and she was the first to glance away. Ned sighed and moved to the door, holding his breath as he strained for any noise, any hint that someone was in the passage outside and would see him leaving Nancy's room. No one was.

He paused to smooth his hair down, and very nearly just returned to his own room, but his stomach gave a pointed growl.

When he returned to Nancy's room, he paused for a moment before gently tapping on her door. He halfway hoped she had managed to fall asleep, but she opened her door, wrapped in a robe, looking tired.

He smiled gently at her and gestured to his plate in wordless invitation, and she considered before taking a bit of bread and one of the two apples he'd gathered.

He reached up to gently cup her cheek, and she searched his eyes before he leaned down, brushing his lips over hers. She parted her own and he deepened the kiss, taking his time.

Then she made a soft noise and lowered her chin, and Ned pulled back.

"Rest," he murmured, stroking his thumb against her skin. "It will be all right."

She gave him a very weak smile. "Good night," she whispered, thanking him with a nod before closing her bedroom door.

Nancy glanced over at her morning cup of chocolate, which had gone cold while she slept. She had tossed and turned until dawn was beginning to bleed violet through the sky, and her maid had brought her breakfast at the accustomed time—but she had slept through it.

Well. Putting this off wasn't going to change anything.

Nancy descended the staircase wearing a very becoming blue day dress that managed to be both comfortable and flattering, her hair dressed expertly by her maid. The reflection she had seen in the glass before leaving her room looked far more relaxed and confident than Nancy actually felt, and she worked on maintaining that now. She pushed the door of the salon open a few inches, and saw Ned there, playing billiards with Will.

Ned glanced up at her as he followed through a shot, then did a double-take. Judging by Will's guffaw, Ned's shot had suffered from the distraction, too.

"Hello," he said, and managed to sink such warmth and intimacy into the single word that Nancy actually felt a flush climb up her body.

Oh God, what he had been doing to her. What she had asked him to do to her, with her. Oh, God. She actually felt her nipples tighten at the memory.

Maybe you'll seek me out.

She blinked and forced a smile that she hoped looked appropriate and natural. "Hello. I was considering a turn in the garden, if the weather allows."

"I would be pleased to escort you," Ned said, speaking a bit more loudly to drown out Will's overlapping voice.

Will smirked. "Forfeit the game you're already losing," he said, his comment just loud enough for Nancy to hear.

"Rematch," Ned said, without even looking at Will. "Later."

"Definitely."

She had managed to sleep so long that the dining room was already being prepared for the midday meal. Nancy gave her head a little shake as she stepped through the French doors, her arm looped through Ned's. She generally didn't indulge in late mornings.

She'd also never had a night like the last one, either.

"So we'll meet with Hardy tomorrow night. Unless you've received some letter from him."

Nancy shook her head. "No letter. I hope we're able to recover her tomorrow."

"As do I."

They strode deeper into the gardens, the silence lingering between them. The sky was a pure deep blue overhead, but dark clouds were visible near the horizon. Rain would only complicate things, but that was always true.

"Did you sleep well?"

She considered lying, replying with some level of sarcasm, but just settled on sighing and shaking her head. She met his glance with an apologetic tightening of her lips.

Then he dropped his arm and caught her hand as it fell, interlacing their fingers, and her heart quickened traitorously. Any contact with him was dangerous, and she knew it. Any time spent alone with him was dangerous.

He was her fiancé, in actuality. Certain liberties were almost... expected. The thoughts were very nearly in Bess's voice, accompanied by the soft push of her usual gentle enabling.

"If at any point you want simple companionship, not the kind of intimacy we shared last night, you have only to say it," he said, his tone almost grave. "You are a gorgeous, fascinating woman, and I just want to be near you. In whatever capacity you would allow."

The tension in her chest became tighter, and she let the silence stretch between them, unsure of what to say. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she'd be irrevocably honest with him.

They reached the edge of the garden, and Ned paused. "Another circuit?"

She found her voice, a soft heat brushing her cheeks. "Or?"

A spark of interest lit Ned's eyes, and his lips curved up in something like a brief smirk. "Will made a point of mentioning some kind of abandoned shed near a very picturesque part of the nature trail," he said, a note of conspiracy in his voice, of intimacy, that set off an unwelcome fluttering deep in her belly. "And if we're gone long enough, I would wager he'll find some excuse to make a dramatic entrance, in the hopes of..."

"Interrupting a tryst," she filled in.

Ned gasped theatrically, and she couldn't help matching his grin. "Never," he insisted. "He'll talk about rumors of tramps in the woods, or some such rubbish."

"And if he were to find us there, calmly..." Her mind went blank. An unmarried man and woman alone need be doing nothing to be accused of impropriety; just the staggering lapse in judgement was enough.

"Conversing," Ned suggested. Then he paused. "Would you prefer to call your maid as a chaperone?"

She scoffed. "Will's opinion is less than insignificant."

The humor had faded, softening the lines of his face, putting an earnest expression in his gaze. "I wouldn't wish you to feel uncomfortable," he replied.

The gauntlet had been thrown. Did she wish to reverse, to unwrite the night before, or pursue what was likely a dangerous course?

She set her jaw and met his gaze. "A simple nature walk shouldn't inconvenience my maid," she declared. "We'll leave her here."

Nancy wasn't quite dressed warmly enough for their walk, but she didn't expect to be gone very long, and a traitorous part of her imagined Ned would relish the opportunity to help "warm her up."

They had just crossed from the manicured line of shrubbery marking the end of the formal gardens when the woman Nancy was still privately referring to as the pianoforte mangler appeared, cheeks flushed and bright with laughter, accompanied by another woman. "Heading inside?" she asked them brightly. "I've definitely worked up an appetite."

Her companion tittered at the gaffe, and Nancy kept her expression neutral, even pleasant, while privately feeling sharp. Women working up appetites was nothing to be embarrassed or upset about.

Ned glanced over at Nancy with keen dismay. "I suppose so," he replied. "Our little adventure will just have to wait."

The interruption allowed Nancy to consider exactly what she was doing and whether she would find some way to politely decline. She put a smile on her face and replied with general pleasantries to the conversation at the table, and when she allowed a bigoted, short-sighted opinion to be expressed without responding immediately, sharp-tongued, Ned glanced over at her with a faint question in his own expression. A part of her was quietly delighted that he recognized the comment would have provoked her, and that he had expected her to reply to it. Then Ned jumped in with his own mild contradiction, sounding almost bored, and Nancy shared a small grin with him.

Nancy was in entirely unexplored territory, and enjoying it far too much.

The time spent at the meal allowed the dark clouds she had spotted earlier to complete their approach, and as Ned was pulling back her chair for her, the rains descended with a soft whoosh, drawing a gleaming curtain down the windows. Ned's disappointment was clear, and he let out his breath in a quiet sigh.

Maybe he hadn't planned on anything happening in that shed, and Nancy couldn't say she relished the prospect of delicately scraping cobwebs off her gown or routing some nesting rodents. If they'd been pursuing a clue, she wouldn't have been able to get there fast enough, but for this...

It just lacked a certain romance, that was all.

"I would ask if you'd prefer to rest now, but if you're amenable, I'm sure the house has a portrait gallery."

"I would be delighted," she replied.

Will accepted Ned's postponement of their rematch with a knowing smile, and then Nancy took Ned's arm again, joining him. They made their way to the second floor, the rain sheeting down the windows, turning the weak light pale, subduing the air with a steady hush.

The small gallery did include one family portrait which included Will, so Nancy and Ned gazed dutifully at it for a moment or two before moving on. A few measured steps. Pause. Ned standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his body, and that made her remember the shock of his bare skin against hers, heat and weight, the sweep of his tongue...

Nancy shivered.

Ned moved a little closer, taking her hand, lacing their fingers together again. "Do you feel a draft?"

"Maybe." She kept her gaze pointed straight ahead, with some effort.

Ned was doing the same thing, according to her peripheral vision. "I wouldn't presume to visit your rooms without an invitation."

"But an unscheduled knock just to ask after my well-being..."

"Would just be chivalrous." Quiet, measured steps, a stop. Traveling back along the line of Will's ancestors. Would Will find an understanding wife, pose for his own portrait in a few years' time? A stern woman with regal, almost militaristic, bearing stared back at Nancy. She bore little resemblance to Will.

Ned was her fiancé.

"If you," she began, and cleared her throat when her voice tried to tremble. "If you checked on my well-being in a half-hour or so, I would be most appreciative."

"I'll count the minutes," Ned replied, after the pause of a single breath. There was a warmth in his voice, a cautious hope.

Generally, Nancy prided herself on her control. She let her head rule her heart, even if the rules constraining her own behavior weren't always the ones she was expected to follow. Her passion served her well.

This, she realized as she headed toward her own room a few minutes later, felt like falling down a steep hill. Her destination was inevitable. She might consider changing course, but her ability to do so was limited. Ned would knock on her door soon, and what she said and did when he answered was still under her control, but... only barely.

And this descent had begun before that ball, before that carriage ride and Ned's election to join her. Her only path was as far away as she could be from what had happened to her.

It had changed her. Her experience there had changed her.

At first she'd been able to tell herself that this was a way of cleansing her palate, of washing that taste out of her mouth, that shame and humiliation off her skin, but... But. She wouldn't have done this with just anyone. In fact, she wouldn't have done this with anyone else.

When Ned tapped on her door, she opened it immediately and looked up into his face, breathless, the color high in her cheeks. She nearly spoke, then stepped back, allowing him entrance. He closed the door behind him.

This wasn't important.

For once, she ignored that belief.

"How... What are your feelings, toward me?"

Clearly caught off balance, Ned swallowed. "I..."

She took a step back, arms wrapped around her waist, still gazing up into his face. Her heart was pounding. Once she made up her mind, she found it best to plow through the worst, the pain, to give herself time to heal. She was expecting this to test her own limits.

"Because... you've made me believe that you care about me. You want to be around me. You think I'm intelligent and you find me attractive."

He nodded, searching her eyes, but didn't respond otherwise.

"More than that?"

He drew a deep breath. "Yes," he said quietly.

She relaxed some; she hadn't realized how tense she was. "Last... night. Meant something to you?"

He nodded. He looked... afraid. Cautious.

"Why do you look nervous right now?"

He glanced away, briefly. "I don't want to change what we have. I don't want to go backward or scare you."

"And you think being honest with me might do that."

He smiled very briefly, humorlessly. "You've made your feelings about marriage clear. I want what I can have with you, Nancy. I don't wish to trespass beyond that."

She searched his face. He was telling her the truth; she believed that. He wouldn't say the words unless she spoke them first, and if she never said it, neither would he.

"I... care deeply for you," she said. Every word meant deliberate action, and felt like a wrenching free, as though she was struggling to keep from saying it. She hoped the strain wasn't in her voice, and then she realized her arms were still crossed. "What happened last night is... proof of that."

"Ah." His anxiety hadn't softened. He still looked like he was preparing to defend himself against an attack.

She relaxed her arms. "I keep trying to make myself believe that it was... for other reasons. But it's you. No one else. I can't imagine being with anyone else, the way we were last night."

His smile returned, and while his eyes were still a little wary, at least his expression was more genuine.

"I'd judge we have a few hours until we're expected to socialize." She reached up and slid her dress down her arms, keeping her gaze on Ned's face, seeing his own gaze flick down and back up so quickly. "If you're... interested...?"

He closed the distance between them in response, and her dress slipped from her grasp, sliding to the floor. He gathered her up and then his lips were warm and firm against hers.

In lucid moments, Nancy was fairly sure that this wasn't what everyone did. This definitely wasn't what the men who bought women expected, she believed. But when his lips touched hers, when his arms were around her, his body pressed to hers, all pretense of reason fled.

His kisses were eager, ardent, and after an initial shock, she responded to him in kind, her heart rising as she buried her fingers in his hair and stroked her tongue against his. She dimly registered that they were moving, and then that her bed was underneath her. It was definitely more comfortable here, and her skirt was rucked up, leaving her lower legs bare, and she felt him twist, felt the space between them, the slowing rhythm of his kiss...

He was working to open his pants, she realized, and her heart squeezed in panic. She was pinned under him, and—

It was Ned. She looked up into his face to confirm it, panting.

"No more than you want," he said, panting too. "Never more than you want. Naked?"

The word sent a shock over her skin. Everything was too fast, and the rush of excitement reminded her of other situations far different from this, but in the moment this was so much more intense. This had never happened for her before, this—insistent craving. "Lock the door," she said in a rush, and he unlaced and stripped off his own clothes as he obeyed.

They needed no candle now. Even in the watershot light, seeing him in shades of blue and gray, she could only breathe and watch him. She had sat up, stripped off her stays, but was still in her shift. Her heart was pounding, but the house was otherwise silent around them, blanketed in the steady drum of the rain, bracketed by the creaking of the bed when she shifted.

He was facing her, unabashed, and somehow even in this vulnerability, she could feel the weight of what she had asked him, and his refusal to answer. His shoulders were broad, the lower part of his torso tapering to his waist. Long, lean muscle of his legs, his abdomen, his arms. She'd never seen any other man this way.

And he was beautiful. Dear God, he was beautiful, and there was such strength in him, such grace. That had never escaped her. He had never given her any reason to fear him, and yet it fluttered in her throat, in her chest, both terrifying and arousing.

Something had to be wrong with her.

From the way his own expression changed, she supposed some of what she was feeling must be on her own face. His mouth opened as he stood at the foot of the bed, his thighs pressed against the coverlet.

Before he could speak, she reached down and drew her shift over her head. Her cheeks were blazing as she hastily smoothed her hair back down, then cursed herself for a fool.

"I should just take my hair down," she muttered.

"Would you?"

She was surprised by, then amused by his eager question. "My maid would have to come dress it again for dinner," she replied.

He slid a knee onto the bed. Her heart sped up again. "And?"

Nancy's gaze was riveted to him. "And I have no ready excuse," she said, her words beginning to verge on breathless.

"Blame me utterly." He pressed a palm against the bed. His gaze was locked to hers. "I've dreamed of seeing you with your hair down again."

Damn it. She could feel how terribly hot her cheeks were, and in this light he would see it. "Have you," she said, her voice faint. With him leaning over, gazing at her, almost... predatory. A very unwelcome shiver went down her spine.

He straightened and smiled, but his gaze was watchful. He'd noticed her reaction to him. "Often. Happily. Please tell me what you'd like so I stop scaring you."

She glanced down. "To stop being scared," she murmured, then shook her head. "I want to know what we're doing here, and I don't. I want..."

He was moving closer to her, and then, when she paused for too long, he was kissing her again. They were both sitting up, and he wasn't caging her, wasn't pinning her; she had the option to move away. She didn't.

His hair was sleek under her fingertips, and the scent of him—pine, musky, masculine, intensely arousing. She moaned softly, and found herself moving closer to him when he retreated the slightest bit, moving onto his lap, feeling his arms slide around her. He wasn't crushing her to him. She could still get away.

Maybe it was an illusion, but her heart was telling her it was true.

Thanks to the difference in their heights, she had to stand up on her knees a little, and that made her feel more exposed than anything. They were uncovered, and at least the door was locked, but there was no pretending that she wasn't a full participant in this.

And, she supposed, she didn't want there to be. Ned had made it clear that he wasn't here to push her boundaries. He wasn't here to do anything to her, only with her. So it was likely wrong to crave, or at least imagine experiencing, the weight of him pressing her down into the mattress, to abandon herself to knowing caresses.

He was here to give her a good memory before the weight of all their lies came crashing down around them.

You can just fall into this.

Their kiss ended and she collapsed against him, panting, almost melting against him. He embraced her, and just the feel of bare skin against her was too raw. His lips brushed the join of her neck and shoulder. She whimpered.

"You have to tell me what you want," he whispered against her skin.

"Last... last night," she panted, her lashes fluttering down.

He laid her down, and she buried her fingers in his hair, the fingers of her other hand tensing and relaxing as he teased and suckled one nipple, massaging her other breast with slow, gentle strokes. Her knees were bent and he was barely perched over her, so close that she could feel his heat, feel him breathing.

She tipped her head back, arching, moving restlessly as she whimpered. Last night she had rubbed against him, and...

She released a soft sound, aroused and frustrated. She wanted pressure between her legs. What was wrong with her?

He had said that he could touch her somewhere...

She blushed again.

He shifted his weight. "I know you were close last night," he murmured, his breath hot against her breast. "You can be on top..."

"Mmm. Can you..."

He gave her a darkly knowing look, and then he moved so his leg, his upper thigh, was parting hers.

It only took a moment for her to overcome her own reluctance, and then she was rubbing the join of her thighs against his leg as he teased her nipples, and she was gasping in pleasure. He shifted his weight and she rocked her hips back and forth, writhing, trying to find the right place. She kept feeling something tantalizing and incredible, echoing the pulse his suckling and teasing woke between her legs.

When Ned moved so he was no longer pressing against her, she moaned in protest, her lashes fluttering up. He perched over her, and she stilled when she saw the look in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze. He trailed his hand down deliberately to her parted thighs, and her heart was pounding in her throat, but she didn't push him away.

Then his fingertip brushed against a tender place between her thighs.

--

When Ned had last glanced at Nancy, on his way back to his rooms, she had been sprawled naked on her bed, looking utterly wanton. Escaped tendrils of hair had made a kind of halo, pale especially in contrast with her flushed cheeks. It had been a deliciously erotic image, and she had moved to cover herself with the sheet before he had unlocked the door to leave.

He was allowed to see her nakedness. No one else.

There was something damned intoxicating, he had discovered, about pleasuring an innocent—or, at least, in pleasuring Nancy. She had turned her face into the pillow, sobbing and crying out her ecstasy, while her hips trembled and jolted in counterpart to his strokes. The amazement and awakened lust had been plain.

Knowing how shocked, hurt, and upset she would likely be if he completed the act with her, he had waited to pleasure himself after, but he wasn't sure how long it would be before she might be willing to try that, too.

He half-expected her to decline the evening meal, but she was there even before he was, exchanging bright pleasantries with Will. Her hairstyle now was even a bit more severe than the one she had worn this morning, and not a single hair escaped it. The gown she wore, he definitely hadn't seen on her before. While she had selected a more opaque material than some women cared to wear in the current fashion, the style was the same, and the fabric clung to her, outlining what would normally be kept hidden.

Having seen it for himself just a scant hour ago, it was unbelievably tantalizing, and it made him suddenly possessive.

Well. He could hardly decree she would only appear in sackcloth and ashes for anyone else.

Then Nancy's gaze met Ned's, and the color rose in her cheeks. She could play coy and innocent all she wanted, but whatever ability she had to mask her feelings apparently failed when it came to him. Ned loved it.

A few minutes later, he suddenly wondered if those men who bought women were hoping to experience some measure of this—and shook his head slightly to himself. There was no way to experience it with a bought woman, a scared woman. With Nancy...

Maybe the man who had trained her for so brief a time had been trying to instruct her on how to play the shy, eager virgin. Ned couldn't believe that, though. A very well-trained courtesan would do an infinitely better job. It was more likely that any man participating in this disgusting scheme would enjoy fear and pain more.

And she had asked Ned to help her make better memories.

Their gazes met across the table again, and Ned smiled, and their gazes held. Nancy smiled too, and Ned knew they were being gauche, and he absolutely didn't care. So what if he and Nancy were marked as a pair of distracted lovebirds? All the better to excuse tomorrow night's planned adventure, with an excuse that they wanted to see the shack Will had mentioned by moonlight, or some other such obvious lie.

Will, for his part, wore an insane head of curls this evening. Ned wondered if he'd gone out in the rain to find them, and had been disappointed in his efforts.

Tonight... he hadn't been able to even let himself hope or anticipate. Maybe she would invite him back.

And maybe... she had so little regard for the conventions of society. Even so, would she come to him? If he were discovered in her room, he would be considered at fault, and her somewhat battered reputation would remain intact, protected by their engagement. Were she to be discovered in his rooms, that protection would dim a little.

Not that he cared. In fact, he would have welcomed it.

He wanted to marry her.

Oh, he wasn't so desperate that he would do anything unforgivable to achieve it, but if he could somehow number and calm all her fears and doubts about it, help her to realize how good it could be for both of them...

I care deeply for you, too.

What he felt for her was so far outside his own previous experience that he had never imagined it. In some dim, unchallenged part of himself, he'd imagined finding a spouse would be boring. Just discovering and accepting a woman who met a list of qualifications his parents had prepared for her when he himself was a baby. Nancy had taken that and completely destroyed it. She was so totally, beautifully unexpected. He was fascinated by every part of her: her wit, her intelligence, her confidence, her passion.

He didn't need to compromise her, not when he himself was compromised already.

They shared another warm glance, and for Ned, there was no one else in the room. His heart was filled with nothing but her, and all his attention was centered on the next time he'd feel her in his arms again, the warm silky velvet of her flesh, the weight of her kiss.

The words would come, when they were both ready for them. His heart already pulsed with them.

With a sigh, Nancy regarded her reflection. Several times she had considered putting together an outfit like the one Ned would doubtless be wearing: soft black pants, a soft black shirt, comfortable shoes. If she were spotted, though, she had to be dressed plausibly. Hence the cheap black dress, again.

At least she wasn't dressing for a feigned tryst this time. But she was always going to remember him cutting her out of this dress; her maid had replaced the laces without asking any questions, but still...

She turned away from the glass before she could see the blush rising in her cheeks.

Ned had come to her again the night before, and she had allowed him in; she'd hardly had time or inclination to imagine the alternative. She craved Ned's touch, and while that terrified her while they were apart, when they were together she found him entirely irresistible.

The tension he provoked in her, the way he made her tighten and pant and writhe under him, and then the desperation, the terrible joy, the slow glide after as the palsy left her...

She crossed to the water pitcher and wet her hands, then pressed them to her glowing cheeks. She hated this feeling. She hated even more that, if she and Ned returned here tonight, if he gave even the faintest indication that he wanted to join her, she already knew she wouldn't be able to refuse.

Given what had happened last time, though, she had already packed a small bag with a few items that the woman they were liberating might need, should they find her. She checked through it, gave herself a brisk nod, then paced the room a few times before pausing before the fireplace. She gave herself a fierce shake and set her jaw.

She knew who she was; she had always known who she was. And this...

Nancy was still gazing moodily into the fireplace, her jaw aching now at being held tight for so long, when she heard a very quiet knock. Forcing herself to relax at least enough to possibly appear normal, she strode to the door and nearly flung it open.

Ned's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. "Milady," he murmured.

She didn't like this dividing her attention, but she had no other choice. She gave him a nod, picked up the bag, and let him take her arm as they silently headed for the stables again.

Maybe he sensed her mood; maybe he shared it. Either way, they spoke only when necessary until they reached the place where they were to leave the horses and set off on foot for their meeting.

Nancy wasn't sure she could speak much. She was preoccupied by scenarios, and the certain knowledge that her previous rescue attempt had gone all too easily. If she were caught and the captor made aware of her interest, the task would become infinitely harder.

She wished she could find some faith that Frank had smoothed any part of their nascent plan, but she had almost never been surprised when planning for the worst. The worst she could imagine, anyway, and that had definitely evolved over time.

The worst she could imagine now... well, she did have faith that, were she caught and subjected to the same treatment again, Ned would free her. The alternative was too hideous to contemplate at any length.

Ned touched her elbow. She glanced over at him with a quiet gasp.

"I would offer a penny for your thoughts, but they seem more weighty than that," he said. "I've been trying to catch your attention for a bit, now. Any last-minute decisions I need to know about?"

Not that he needed to weigh in on, or share. He was content to follow her lead.

Despite the tension still gripping her tight, she melted a little when she gazed at him. In another time, another place, she would have angrily dismissed her reaction as some unwelcome feminine frailty that she had never experienced before. She had never considered the advantages of being in a relationship, at least not a relationship that was more than one in name only, providing financial and social support while otherwise leaving her unencumbered. Men who married women expected them to fill a certain role, and Nancy wanted no part of it.

But Ned wasn't most men, or very much like any other men she'd ever met. He wasn't her father, or Frank, or any of the men who had proposed to her before, or Bess's husband.

And thinking of "Ned" and "husband" in the same sentence wasn't as terrifying to her now as she knew it should be.

She had to be careful. Maybe she was seeing him so positively because she wanted it to be true, because she didn't want to let her head overrule her heart.

"No decisions," she admitted with a sigh. "Just some intense misgivings about whatever we're walking into."

Ned chuckled. "Your faith in Hardy seems lacking."

"I've no idea yet of the obstacles he was facing, and that we might be," she said. "I'm in a more vulnerable position than I normally am."

"And you don't like it," he filled in, when she didn't.

"No one would," she pointed out reasonably. Then she glanced over at him again. "You seem cheerful."

"I'm with you," he pointed out, simply, and her foolish heart soared at the words and at his soft smile.

She was still warm when their hands met and clasped. "Normally I'm in a position to confront the culprit. I have connections; I know people who can shame, gossip, malign. I don't threaten those things lightly, or without sufficient reason. But this..." She shrugged her shoulders. "I can't confront anyone over this. I can't just expose everyone on that list, the way I want."

"Why not?"

She glanced over at him. "I'm the only one who knows they even exist, now, really. What would stop a man from—disposing of the evidence? And would anyone actually care? Would it just become a snickered joke in gentleman's clubs, an inspired idea that deserved emulation?"

Ned considered. "I honestly wish I could tell you that people would be outraged, that they would storm these homes we're trying to break into, that the men who had the audacity to participate in this would be unceremoniously chased out of high society."

"For a start."

"For a start," he agreed. "I wish I could say that."

Nancy sighed. They were close to the designated meeting place. "Is it any wonder that I don't want to be a part of a group that would..." She trailed off.

"Willfully look the other way while a great wrong happens."

"Over, and over, and over." She glanced down at her cheap dress. The hem was wet, strewn with grass seed. She had the unwelcome memory again, of Ned cutting her out of the dress, and a pure liquid shiver traced slow fingers up her spine.

They were almost there.

She squared her shoulders and took a long, deep breath.

--

Ned dragged his sleeve across his forehead. While he had listened closely to all of Nancy's plans for tonight, all the different problems she anticipated, this hadn't been among them.

Ned and Frank Hardy had found a vantage point in the garden where they could see the upstairs window, where Nancy would signal if she needed help. Ned's main concern was that she wouldn't be able to make it there, wouldn't be able to signal for either of them. Every minute or so he tensed, having decided that he couldn't wait any longer, only to talk himself out of racing into the house—and alerting the owner. Anything that could tip him off had to be avoided.

Nancy had assured Ned that she could just pretend to be a domestic servant if caught, that she could say she had been invited to the estate by Frank for his amusement. From the way she said it, Ned had the nauseating feeling that maybe they had used that as a cover before. She wouldn't give her own name, so it wouldn't be a mark against her, and just as she'd said, it would be overlooked.

Frank Hardy wasn't a fool. If he were, that might have made some part of this easier, because Ned both wanted to wholeheartedly hate him, and somehow forge a positive relationship with the man. He was important to Nancy, after all.

Ned still wanted to strangle him, though. Maybe because with every passing minute, Ned wanted to race to where Nancy was—and Frank was placidly smoking a cigarette.

He wordlessly extended his open cigarette case. Ned had responded with an irritable shake of his head before; this time he tightened his jaw. "I don't smoke."

Frank shrugged and took one out, then flipped the case closed. "You need some excuse to be out here," he pointed out.

Ned accepted the offered cigarette with poor grace, but didn't light it.

"It might calm you down," Frank commented, taking another drag from his own.

"No thanks." Ned tapped it against the bench beside him. "It shouldn't be taking this long."

"It always feels that way." Frank glanced up at the window, too.

"What if he's found her?"

"Leicester?" Frank shrugged again. "I'll find her."

"You couldn't even find where he was holding the other woman." Ned couldn't stop himself from saying it.

"If he is," Frank muttered under his breath.

Ned glanced over, nearly crushing the cigarette in his tightening fist by accident. "He is," Ned said, almost through clenched teeth.

Frank glanced up and stilled.

Nancy stepped out of the shadows, striding toward them, completely silent. "Nothing," she said quietly when she reached them, her frustration evident.

Frank nodded once. "Maybe his name was recorded incorrectly."

Nancy and Ned both cast fierce glares in his direction, but he appeared unperturbed. Nancy appeared possibly choked by her rage, and Ned took a breath.

"What if he's keeping her in his own rooms?"

Nancy's eyes widened, and then her gaze locked to something beyond Ned's shoulder as she considered. "I was really hoping not," she murmured.

The prospect of finding her captive in the main house was terrifying enough. If she was, in fact, in Leicester's rooms, there was no way they could get her out tonight, save a massive distraction.

"Belowstairs would know." Nancy turned to pin Frank with her gaze. "Or at least suspect. That kitchen maid you mentioned..."

"Didn't give any hints pointing that way."

"She might not." Nancy was keeping her voice down, but she paced a few steps, turned, paced a few more. "Cleaning. Laundry. Someone here knows." She huffed out a breath. "Or..."

Ned picked up on what she was thinking, and realizing he was doing that sent a prickle over his skin. "No," he said, to her unspoken comment. "I don't believe that."

Nancy shrugged. "Doesn't matter what you believe, if it's true," she said softly. "Ned and I will check out the shed you mentioned."

"And I'll find a way to get into his rooms tomorrow." From the expression on Frank's face, Ned could tell he didn't expect to find anything, or anyone.

After Frank had agreed to leave a note at the inn for them, Nancy and Ned headed out. Ned waited until they were at the edge of the grounds before he could trust himself to look over at Nancy.

She was clearly fuming. "Waste of time," she growled. "And he knew that."

"Yes," Ned agreed.

"If she's in his rooms..." Nancy trailed off, shaking her head.

"Yes."

Nancy was clenching and unclenching her fists. She snarled something under her breath, catching her skirt in her hand to lift the hem to her ankles.

Her mood lightened a little as they finally found and approached the shed, but neither of them was feeling particularly optimistic. They found gardening tools, but the interior showed little use, and nowhere large enough to hide anyone.

They closed the shed's door behind them, and Nancy paused, leaning against the weatherbeaten frame and closing her eyes. "We will have to figure out his schedule," she murmured. "Maybe Frank can talk him into taking a ride off the estate, and we can go in then. Maybe."

Ned caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We'll figure it out."

In the dim light, he thought he saw her lips curl up slightly, though her eyes didn't open. Then they did, and he felt it in the dim light, like a bolt straight down his spine. The shock of her gaze as it met his.

It had happened. It had shifted, between heartbeats, between the tangle of their fingers.

Her smile didn't falter, but her expression changed slightly. As they kept gazing at each other, Ned couldn't glance away from her, and his heart was pounding. He wanted to speak.

She was the first to blink, to sip in a breath and smile. "Guess we should head back," she said, and her voice only sounded a little strangled.

They had only been walking for a few minutes, their hands still joined, when Nancy made a quiet sound, almost like she was clearing her throat. "I... don't know if this is going to make sense, but I've known who I am for a long time. And then I met you."

Ned's eyebrows rose slightly. "Hmm."

She exhaled quickly. "It's not... not necessarily a bad thing. I think. But this has been very difficult."

"When you say this..."

She brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. "Reconsidering everything I was sure about," she said slowly.

Ned's heart started beating a little faster. He opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything. She was always so reluctant to share, and so quick to close off; he didn't want to derail her or make her defensive.

"If I've misunderstood..." She gave his hand a gentle, nervous squeeze. "Maybe when you tell me that our engagement could easily become true, you're..."

"Being entirely honest."

She glanced over at him. "I never imagined that I would meet anyone like you," she said quietly.

"Consider that sentiment mutual."

"Even though you expressed no desire to marry, at the beginning of this adventure."

"As did you." Ned slowed to a stop. They had reached a clearing, and at last he could see her face. "My parents consider us engaged, and breaking that engagement would be very difficult for me. Impossible, in society, but informing them of that disappointment would... They adore you."

She smiled. "That made everything seem far more serious," she admitted. "Meeting them, and seeing how happy they are. I suppose we need to take their feelings into serious consideration."

"Of course, but..." He gazed deeply into her eyes. "If everything else fell away, if there were no parents to consider, no London society... nothing but the two of us. Nothing else matters, not really. I'd offer you everything, all I have."

She smiled, but he could see the tension on her face. "Including your heart?" she asked softly.

He nodded vigorously. "Yes. Everything. Yes."

He could feel the hand that was still in his tensing, and she just searched his eyes. "I'm starting to believe that a life spent with you would be better than a life spent without you," she said, and she was blushing, but her voice was steady.

Ned couldn't help grinning. "So, shall we do the opposite of what most people do? Admit to each other what we've already told the world?"

She chuckled and squeezed his hand again. "I suppose so."

He closed the space between them and picked her up, twirled her around. She let out a peal of delighted laughter before he placed her on her feet again.

"We can't have the ceremony until I've tracked down all of the girls," she told him, once they were walking again.

Ned wouldn't have called himself sleepy before, but now, he was almost vibrating with energy, at the edge of giddy.

"I have an idea about that," he admitted. "Maybe it could be a kind of wedding present."

"I suppose you don't feel like sharing."

"Not now. Maybe later."

She laughed again. "The way I feel right now, I could march back into that house, deck anyone who dared confront me, and carry that poor girl out draped over my shoulders."

"Please don't," Ned managed, laughing.

She shook her head. "Thank you."

Ned smiled. "Any particular reason?"

Her lips quirked up as she considered. "For being very patient," she said. "I think any other woman who had received such attention would have come around well before now."

"Not necessarily. Besides, I know you're not after me for my money, my charm, my title. You insisted on finding out who I was first." He stroked his thumb down the side of her hand. "And your trust in me after your experience is... humbling, to say the least."

They reached the place they had left their horses and set to work freeing them. Nancy paused before she mounted and looked up at him. "I think from the moment we really met, it was going to be this way," she murmured. "As much as I tried to fight it."

"You've said yes," he pointed out, with a small smile. "Under circumstances you would have had every reason to refuse or delay. We're here, together, engaged in this... mutual pursuit, and I've never been so—invigorated."

She grinned and nodded. "That's how it is for me, too."

"And maybe it won't always be this way, but that's all right. It doesn't have to be." He reached up and stroked a thumb over her cheek. "My countess."

She blushed again. Unable to stop himself, he leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against her lips; after a beat, her arm came up and slid around him. "Will you visit me tonight?" she breathed against his ear, once their slow kiss had ended.

"Of course."

--

Nancy took her hair down, and was combing it when she heard the faint tap at her door. She called quietly for Ned to come in, and watched him silently enter her room.

"Mmm," he murmured. "Gorgeous."

She smiled.

It didn't seem real, not yet. Maybe once she had slept and found that it hadn't been a dream, or that he hadn't changed his mind. Maybe it would never quite feel real. She was certainly almost incandescent with delight, gloriously alive, and human beings just weren't supposed to live in this state.

Or maybe they were.

She rose while he was still crossing the room toward her, and they faced each other. Her hair, after being up for so long, hung in flaxen lengths of messy, combed-out ripples. It was so long that combing it out was an ordeal, a necessary chore.

But he was gazing at her like she had managed to crown herself in glory.

He reached up and cupped her cheek, gazing into her eyes, and she tingled in response, almost uncomfortably aware of her breasts and the join of her thighs. She took a step closer to him.

"I love you."

He glowed in happiness. "I love you too," he said, and his fingertips trailed down her neck to her shoulder, just under the neckline of her shift.

She tried to move her gaze from his face, but found herself unable. The words in her throat stuck there for a moment. "We... will wait, won't we?"

He raised his eyebrows, but his expression didn't change.

"For... what we haven't done yet."

He smiled. "Can we continue spending time together like this, if we just... wait?"

She nodded.

"And, more importantly... waiting for what?"

She tilted her head. "Our wedding night," she said, of course implied.

He didn't look surprised. "That is a definite way to encourage my wholehearted involvement. Any way we can enlist the help of maybe a dozen people and get this done in a few weeks?"

She laughed, but despite the amusement flickering in Ned's eyes, he didn't join her.

"What? As though you don't know some people."

She opened her mouth to respond when he slid his hand a few inches lower, and all sanity fled. Everything fled. She shrugged her shoulder up and tipped her head, catching his hand between her cheek and her shoulder. "Ned," she whispered, and it was almost a moan.

His thumb stroked against bare skin. "A part of me doesn't quite believe it's real yet," he whispered. "You said it, didn't you? That spending the rest of your life with me might not be the end of the world."

She recovered enough of herself to smile. "Something like that."

"Damned with faint praise."

"Hey. When I asked you how you felt about me..." Her breath caught as he caught the hem of her shift in his other hand and pulled it up.

"I should have told you," he agreed. "But I thought telling you might change things between us, and not in a positive way."

"I'd already... gone to bed with you, we were engaged..." She trailed off as he stripped off the shift entirely, and then she sat down at the edge of the bed, breathless.

"And very little would have encouraged me to jeopardize that," he replied, keeping his gaze on her as he thumbed open his trousers. "I would have done anything to stay near you."

She moved to prop her head on a pillow as Ned joined her on the bed. "Anything," she repeated softly, her gaze locked to him.

"Within reason." He smiled as he moved over her. "Up to the very edge of it, anyway."

In the infinite moments that followed, she reached such an intense, overwhelming joy that she pulled the pillow over her head and screamed into it, full-throated, gasping sobs of pleasure. She was moving restlessly, but she was too weak to do anything; she arched, her nails scratching against the sheets as Ned—

She couldn't think about what he was doing to her; it was too mortifying. She would have died before she stopped him, though.

Ned chuckled against her thigh when she brought a trembling hand down to slide her fingers into his hair. "Yes, love," he whispered. "Yes, my beautiful one."

She was still moaning softly when he moved over her. She was spent, so incredibly weak, and then Ned's hips were between her thighs as he lowered himself to her. She flinched with a gasp when she realized what that weight was, against her tender inner flesh, where she was still slick and sensitive.

"Shh." His lips brushed against her cheek; his skin was so warm against hers. "I won't move inside you, and I'll stop if you want. Do you want me to stop?"

"You won't?" Her voice was trembling.

"I won't."

And then he made a quiet sound, something like surprise, when her lips brushed against his, when she parted them and licked his and realized what that taste must be. He groaned softly as he kissed her, long and slow, and she flushed fiercely as she wrapped her arms around him. He dragged that firm length forward and back without sliding inside her, just stroking himself against the join of her thighs as they kissed, and then he was panting.

"Mmm?" She had been feeling that incredible pleasure again, but if he was upset, if something was hurting him—

"Oh God, Nancy..."

His thrusts became more vigorous, and she began to sob. While a small part of her was afraid, most of her was just a little shocked that her fear was so mild. She trusted him. She had trusted him for a while now, and she trusted him to keep his word.

And this felt good. Addictive. She wanted more. For the first time in her life, she actually could imagine the next step feeling good, too.

His mouth found hers again and they kissed desperately, her body wrapped around his, her fingers in his hair. She could feel him tensing, and she loosened her legs, giving him space. The grind of his hips against hers made her breathless.

And then he gasped, making a guttural sound that sent a shudder up her spine. He muttered something, rough, slowly dragging himself against her slick flesh a few more times before he all but collapsed on top of her.

She moaned quietly, and with one gentle twist of her hips she was gasping and trembling in pleasure again. Ned gathered her in his arms as he rolled onto his side, and she gasped as she bucked, rubbing herself against him.

Ned chuckled happily. "Yes," he murmured, nuzzling against her, trailing kisses over her cheeks. "Yes, love. It's so good, isn't it?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "Oh! Oh!"

He held her as she shuddered, as she went totally limp in his arms. She was weak, cuddled up against him, both of them completely naked, and she had never loved him more.

No wonder Bess had told her it wasn't always that way. Nothing could have been further from her previous experience.

She hadn't bothered to open her eyes—it seemed too difficult a task—when she had recovered enough to murmur, "That definitely wasn't on the list of things we had already done."

"It wasn't," he agreed, his voice as slow and pleasure-drunk as hers. "I should have asked your permission." He paused. "Would you have granted it?"

"Absolutely not," she murmured, snuggling closer to him.

She felt him tense a little, against her. "Are you upset?"

"Absolutely not," she repeated, her eyes still closed. It was so hard to stay awake. "It was incredible. The only thing I've felt that was anything like it, was... the last time we were together."

He chuckled. "So, again tomorrow?"

"Why wait?" she murmured, slipping even further into the sweet cloud of relaxation and bliss, snuggled in the warmth of his embrace. "There are hours... until morning."

"I love you," Ned sighed.

"You... too," she breathed, and let herself slip away.

Ned's footsteps echoed in the empty room. The floors lacked rugs, the windows lacked curtains, and the room was a sea of pale sunlight. It needed work; that was undeniable.

He glanced over at Nancy. Her arm was tucked through his, and she had been gazing around at all of it, making the occasional soft sound.

"Verdict?"

Her mouth tightened, then relaxed. "I'm dismayed at the state, but most of the problems are easily corrected. Given a platoon of seamstresses and a fleet of carpenters." She smiled. "And, were the carpenters to find time to put in a secret passage..."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll add it to the list," he said, and when he smiled at her, their gazes locked. For a moment, the rest of the world fell away.

He didn't have to ask her to share his bed tonight. It was no longer a question. Nearly every night they could be together, she was beside him.

Or beneath him.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and she was blushing faintly when she turned back toward the windows. "This is a remarkable wedding gift."

"I hope it will be." He took the hint and began slowly strolling with her again. "I do sincerely hope so."

--

The work had taken months, and when Nancy returned, leaves were blanketing the dying grass even as the landscaping staff raked and gathered them. She shook her head a little on the approach; she had seen Ned's family's estate now, and this place lacked its charm and history. This was perfectly suited for their purposes, but knowing what would happen here left her uneasy.

Her first stop was the dower house. Easily half the size of the main house, it had been modified so the previous occupant could entertain, throwing lavish parties to rival those hosted by her daughter-in-law in the main house. The entire situation sounded ridiculous, to Nancy anyway—but it meant plenty of space, and they had made the most of it. Heavy drapes shielded the interior from view, the beds were made with warm, comfortable linens and blankets, and the kitchen was fully stocked. The walls had already been papered in tranquil watery-turquoise and subtle silver patterns, so decorating hadn't matched the nightmare of the main house.

She had just closed the exterior door behind her and started for the main house, shielded from easy view by a line of manicured hedges, when she saw Ned circling around them.

She didn't think twice. A broad grin came over her face, and she laughed as they practically raced toward each other. Ned scooped her up and spun her around, but even once he stilled again, he didn't release her.

"Welcome, beautiful."

"I..." Her lashes fluttered down when he captured her mouth with a kiss, slow and sweet—at least, at first. By the end of it she was left dazed, her body warm where it was pressed against his, flushed and attuned to him. Slowly she opened her eyes again, and his intense gaze made her even more breathless.

"Thank you," she murmured, and her grin returned. "It's a pleasure to see you as well."

Ned's answering grin grew even more broad. "I'll reserve my response to that until we're truly alone," he said; then, with seeming reluctance, he slowly lowered her to her feet again. "Any problems with the dower house?"

"None. The main house?"

"A few last-minute decisions to make." He paused. "A few requests from our expected guests. Given everything, I suppose we must grant them, but..."

Nancy raised a pale eyebrow, but that was her only response, other than the sudden churning in her stomach. Ned's expression was telling her too much.

While the working areas of the main house hadn't needed much more than cosmetic work, the guest chambers and social areas had been a challenge. Ned had discussed their plan with a few other people, and based on her woefully lacking knowledge, the decor matched her nebulous vision of such places.

Rich burgundy velvet drapes pooled their hems like hastily-discarded gowns beneath each window. Thick rugs, newly made, dampened steps and sound, their pile not yet crushed by the traffic of a hundred feet. The furniture was heavy in appearance, but sometimes hollow within. Since they were, in effect, putting on a play, that seemed almost overly appropriate. Furnishings were similarly showy and equally cheap; it was expected, apparently.

It made her think, uncomfortably, of what would have happened to her in another version of her life. It made her acutely upset on behalf of the women who would be subjected to this for just a while longer, all completely unaware of what this would mean to them. Women who might be kept hidden away, in spare bedrooms or dower houses or ramshackle cottages, allowed to socialize and move among others for what might have been the first time since their captivity began.

While the estate had been prepared, she and Ned had continued their quest to liberate other victims, but this particular scheme had the potential to be far more successful than even she had imagined. Men responding eagerly to the prospect of bringing their purchased companions to a house party, to display them proudly and openly, and were equally happy to suggest other potential guests. And some of those guests had apparently been listed on ledgers that had been destroyed in the unspeakably tragic and desperately deserved fire that had claimed the seller's life.

That was the only thing she would truly have wished different, Nancy realized. While her assault had shaken her deeply, she had endured a tiny, tiny percentage of what the other women had. If she could have any wish, it would be thorough records.

She took the steps toward the guest wing, and saw Ned's hesitation before he accompanied her. "I just need to see it," she told him quietly. "I need to make sure everything is... right."

"And this isn't," he said, bluntly. "I know this was all my idea, but I can't really condone it. At least not this part."

The first room was representative of them all: four-poster bed with a canopy, thick drapes and rug, fireplace, basin and ewer. Unobjectionable, unremarkable really, save for the opulence, for the theme: red, burgundy, black, gold in such profusion that it made the walls feel that they were closing in.

For whatever reason, it made her think of blood. It made her think of disguising evidence, of mistakes that wouldn't be so easy to see. A plush, lavish prison for the captor, and a misery for the captive.

She had wholeheartedly endorsed this plan after talking it through with Ned for hours, determining that this wasn't just a joke, that they could find a way to make it reality. He had poured so many resources into this, knowing how much it would mean to her. Instead of infiltrating one household, they had actually persuaded the men in question to make their stolen women available. Nancy couldn't imagine anything more incredible.

But. It was staggeringly real, now.

She actually reached for the doorframe to brace herself, and Ned made a quiet sound at her side, moving to slide an arm around her waist. She released a soft whimper and nestled against him.

"We can go."

She shook her head and swallowed hard. Given what she was asking, this was the least she could do. "I need to see them all."

She was thoroughly shaken when Ned escorted her to their room, and she was relieved to see the decor was so markedly different, almost plain: soft butter-yellow walls with a muted floral print, plain quilts and soft linens, almost airy drapery. During their evening meal, seated at the small table in the estate's kitchen, she had done all she could to distract herself, but nothing had worked.

Intellectually, she knew it was too late to call any of it off. She also knew that Ned was almost certainly willing to proceed without her, and would limit her involvement if she so chose. She didn't have to play a role here; she could just walk in during the last act.

But so many people had agreed to help them in this. Bess would be here, ready and willing to help. Frank and Joe would be here.

The man who had inflicted this misery in the first place was dead. Doing this wasn't tempting fate, wasn't inviting that blandly malevolent presence back into her life. The trappings were all a sham, all glitter and paper and paste.

Nightmares needed no logic, though. She could tick off reasons on her fingers all day, but that couldn't relieve the knot of tension in her gut.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Ned wrapped his arms around her from behind and she relaxed against him. He felt so warm and solid and reassuring.

They were so close to the end of this. Once the men arrived, the planted guests, Frank and Joe and a few of Ned's friends, would ask about other possible targets. Then they would strike, and the men had agreed to engage in their own pursuit. Soon she would be back to investigating stolen jewels and headstrong heiresses.

Ned was quiet, just holding her as the two of them swayed gently in the candlelight. "I wish this were easier," he finally murmured.

Her eyes were closed. "I don't know how it could be," she realized. "I don't know what would make any of this any easier. This was the best way to get them here, to make them feel safe. It's a veneer. We'll be able to rip it away."

"And what happens after?"

She had been considering that, too, and when she moved he slowly released her. She strode to the bed and sat down at the foot of it, looking up at him.

So strange, that she was so comfortable being alone with him this way, that it felt she always had. Once she had given in to her attraction to him, the resistance had evaporated. There was something so sweet, in being so vulnerable to someone as caring and thoughtful as Ned.

"They'll know we were involved," she said slowly. "Under normal circumstances, they would return to London and Bess's project. Some of these men spend a lot of time in London, and I fear what would happen, should they encounter a liberated woman in any sort of social setting. At a house party." She shuddered.

"So London isn't the best option."

"Definitely not."

"That sounds like something we should consider." He took a few steps toward her, closing the distance between them. His gaze flicked to her lips, and a tightening awareness answered him.

Oh, she hadn't understood, and she was glad. She'd had no idea what she was inviting into her heart and her mind when she had given in to the attraction between them. She'd never understood how a woman could be so reckless, make such poor decisions—and then oh, she understood.

She craved him in ways that would make her mortified to voice. She allowed him so much, but all of it, she wanted.

"You've done a lot today." His voice was low, rough, and it sent a shiver down her spine. "You must be tired."

Her gaze dropped to his mouth too. "I am."

"Shall I find another place to sleep?"

She shook her head. Slowly she tipped back, supporting her weight on the heels of her hands, her lashes low.

He smiled, and that was smile was a dark, sweet promise. "Shall we sleep?"

She shook her head again, and parted her legs. "Not for a while yet," she breathed. "I think."

He caught her skirt in his hands and pushed it up to bare her legs from the knee down, then moved between them. "Whatever shall we do?"

She could feel a blush creeping up her neck, heating her cheeks. "Did you have anything specific in mind?"

He shook his head. "Many, many specific things," he replied, lowering himself to her, his arms straight on either side of her, bracketing her. "My love."

At that, she collapsed to the bed behind her, a smile lighting her flushed face. "My love," she whispered.

--

Nancy was beautiful. She was always beautiful, but tonight, maybe knowing they were so close to something she had been pursuing for so long, she glowed.

He had been able to tell that she was shaken by all this, and as much as he wanted her, he would have been content to sleep beside her. He watched her closely as he helped take her clothes off, and then she was naked between the sheets, waiting for him, her blue-eyed gaze warm as it lingered on him.

Still. It wasn't that he was ever rough with her; sometimes in the height of their shared passion, he followed her lead and responded to her ardor with his own, but he was always very careful to pull back from the line she had drawn. For her, the completion and joining of lovemaking would likely be stressful, and he wanted to ease that as much as he could. Surprising her with it was guaranteed to hurt both of them.

He still counted himself deliriously happy with what she allowed, though, the intimacy of feeling her exposed against him, the wonder of reaching his climax with her. Finding out what she specifically desired and responded to had been incredible.

He draped his discarded shirt over a chair, then approached the bed naked. As they generally did, he had left the candles burning and the fire alight, so she could see him—and she took advantage of it, with otherwise demure flickers in her gaze. Ned smirked as he pulled the covers back.

"You know you're gorgeous," she said.

"But my vanity appreciates the reminder," he replied, propping his head up, reaching for her with his other hand. She shuddered when his fingertips encountered bare, silky skin, when he guided his hand to the small of her back. "You are so beautiful."

She glanced away, her lashes low. "I wish I could say that doesn't matter to me," she murmured. "But I find that it does. I doubt the clarity of your perception, but enjoy it anyway."

"As you should," he said, and caught her earlobe between his lips. "Allow me to worship you, my goddess."

She grasped his shoulder even as she trembled at the feel of his breath against her ear. "I am no goddess," she said, but her otherwise stern tone was spoiled by her breathlessness.

"Demigod, then."

"No. And if you refer to me as some sort of angel next..."

He chuckled as he nuzzled against her neck. "As though you aren't."

Ear to throat, the pale column, her heartbeat a soft pulse beneath his lips. Collarbone, a firm line he stroked with his tongue while he caressed her bare hip, all creamy unblemished skin, her coarse hair under his thumb. She turned onto her back with a quiet groan and he rolled with her, kneeling between her legs as soon as she parted them. Every time, her hesitation was more brief. It had practically vanished now.

He returned to her mouth and kissed her deeply as he cupped the join of her thighs. She trembled but didn't try to close her legs or push him away; instead, she stroked her hand over his back with an ever more bold caress, returning his kiss fiercely as she touched his hip, then his member.

Ned sucked in a breath. "Definitely no angel," he growled against her mouth.

She giggled in delight, a sound that provoked the irrational impulse to gather her to him and hold her tight. Her strokes were tentative against his sensitive flesh, and even that was its own allure. Her touch was gentle, exploring, learning him.

It wouldn't be tonight, and he knew that, but he liked the idea of her being eager for their joining. If her overwhelming feelings about it were doubt and fear, he would always want to wait.

Propriety—well, to hell with propriety. That had no place here.

Smooth, creamy shoulders, her breastbone, and then, ah, yes. Her legs were fully parted and her hips jolted slightly when he set his lips to one nipple and began to suckle.

She could no longer reach him, which was likely a blessing; he was already far, far too aroused. Instead she buried her fingers in his hair and used her other hand to caress his shoulders, the nape of his neck, his shoulder blades, as she panted. She held herself in such tight control, and breaking it was such an incredible pleasure.

He gently plucked at her wet nipple as he moved to the other, and she moaned for the first time, her hips pushing up again. "Yes," she mumbled.

He grinned against her. "Yes," he agreed, before stroking his tongue over her again.

He suckled and fondled until she was gasping and moaning quietly, until her hips were pushing up under him in slow, regular thrusts, urging him to touch her there, though she never spoke the words. Feeling her stroke her sex against him in the frenzy of her passion was incredibly arousing, and he was definitely looking forward to it, and to the day when he could use all she had taught him to give her that pleasure during the act itself.

He trailed his kisses lower and she groaned. "Ned," she whispered, her voice nearly agonized. She had been thoroughly scandalized the first time he had done this, though not so much that she had stopped him. She still seemed to feel embarrassed by it, though.

He nuzzled against her navel, caressing her thighs. "Does it please you?"

She made a quiet noise of resignation as she lost some internal battle. "Yes." A reluctant whisper, even as she drew her heels up to provide him unfettered access to the join of her thighs.

"Then allow me," he brushed a kiss just above the reddish curls between her legs, "to please you."

It was slow, the progression. Her labored breathing, her head tossing back and forth, the feel of her nails against his back. Her low moans came next, building to gasped panting, whimpers, soft cries. Her thighs trembled and she tensed and shivered under him.

With one fingertip he stroked the slick lips of her sex, down to the hollow, but did nothing more than that. She was so plush and tender, and as she began to sob in pleasure at the stroke of his tongue, he groaned quietly. He wanted her so, so much. Just the briefest thought of rising over her, sliding inside her—

She reached the peak of her pleasure, and when he didn't stop touching her, she arched and sobbed loudly. She was still trembling, caught between a seeming need to push away from him and an even greater need to ride this as far as he would take it.

Oh God, to give her this while buried between her silky thighs.

Finally, finally she released a long moan and Ned pulled back. His arousal was painful, but his satisfaction was complete, seeing her sprawled and panting, flushed and loose-limbed and perfect.

He moved beside her and lay gazing at her until she recovered herself, her lashes slowly fluttering. She was still flushed, but she turned a brilliant smile on him.

"I..." Her gaze dropped to his lips, and her flush deepened a shade. "You have been so very attentive. Would... would my doing something similar with you, to you, be pleasing?"

Ned just gazed at her, unsure of how to respond. His arousal definitely knew how to respond to it.

Her smile slowly faded. "It's improper," she said softly, searching his gaze as she realized it. "Something a courtesan would suggest?"

He reached up and stroked her cheek before he nodded. "And yet," he said softly, "in a place far removed from this one, possibly quite soon after our wedding, I would be very happy to take you up on it."

Her smile returned, slowly now. She reached for him, and when her palm came into contact with him, he couldn't hold back his loud groan.

"Why wait?" she whispered.

--

Nancy found herself irrationally nervous on the day of the actual event. The plans had already been set in motion, and her anxiety could do nothing to change any problems; she had done all she could to anticipate, to discuss contingencies, all of it. It was still possible for things to go horribly, terribly wrong. She had just done all she could to minimize that probability.

After one last walk-through, checking all the guest rooms, making sure the "staff" was in place, she went back to the room she had claimed for herself. They expected no guests before midmorning, but she was already in the "costume" Bess had selected for her. As Nancy walked through the doorway, she anxiously adjusted the disturbingly low neckline of her gown for probably the twentieth time in the past hour. Nancy had tried on a few ultrafashionable dresses in the past few years, and though she had come close before, she had never been in such danger of accidentally exposing herself.

Her lady's maid had dressed her hair for the part, and it was in a riot of curls, gathered on top and tumbling down over creamy bare shoulders. Her lips were a glossy, garish red, ridiculous, tawdry. For this, she had turned herself into the image of the woman... The woman that "doctor" had set out to make her into. Commodified, aware of her own sensuality, expressing it with a saucy wink and a knowing grin.

She had never been further from that.

Ned loved her. What she shared with him, she shared with him alone. This was a distorted shadow, a role she was playing.

For the last time, she prayed. For the absolute last time.

A light brush of knuckles against the door had her turning before Ned slowly turned the knob and stepped into the doorway. His own costume was much more subtle than hers, but it was similarly effective: a diamond stud at his cuffs, a winking pin in his tied neckcloth, evening shoes. Even a quizzing glass.

Nancy burst into laughter. "You look almost a caricature."

Ned chuckled, too. "As though you do not."

He closed the door behind him, and Nancy's heart rose to just beneath her collarbone as she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. A tight curl of her blonde hair, warmed by contact with her skin, slipped behind her shoulder in the whisper of a caress.

"I find everything about this... repugnant," he admitted, and included her outfit with a brief flick of his wrist as he gestured to the room around them. "I'll be delighted to see it gone."

"So you've never patronized houses of ill repute."

The corner of his mouth turned up as he took a few slow steps closer, a predator not quite stalking his prey. Nancy considered herself many things, but not prey, especially not to him. "The houses I patronized," he said, his voice warm and rich and deep, sending a shiver up her spine, "were only of the best reputation." He took another step. "Although I may clarify: it was one night, we were all considerably more than intoxicated, and I ended up fending off a very prosaic attempt to lighten my pockets. While almost entirely clothed."

Despite herself, Nancy could feel the warmth in her cheeks as he approached her. "Such a white knight in shining armor."

He slowly reached up and caught a curl between his fingers, and Nancy felt a twinge between her thighs—recognition, awareness, desire. The staff was trained, all the rooms assigned, and it would only fit their assumed identities to be tardy to greet guests thanks to such a delay.

She sternly shut down that line of reasoning. Her libido had absolutely no place in this, as ravenous as their relationship had trained it to be.

"You're dressed as bait for an ignorant man," he murmured. "It's an affront to who you are. I find myself wishing I'd found a way to do this without you..."

"Which I would never have allowed."

Ned dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Which I understand," he said, his voice still quiet. "I know you needed to be here for this. And I'm eager for you to experience the climax—" That damnable twinge again. "Just not the steps necessary for it."

She gave him a small smile. "I'm eager to provide what comfort I can, while I can," she said. "Just be sufficiently possessive and arrogant, and I won't have to knee any of our 'guests' in the groin."

"Challenge accepted." He leaned down and captured her mouth with his.

She moaned when he backed her against the bed, the coverlet a spill of cornflower-blue silk embroidered with gleaming gold, and gasped when he buried his fingers in her curls. She met his kisses in a sweet haze of desire and need, her fingers fluttering before they finally landed against that superfine coat, the warmth of him radiating through it.

"Ned," she gasped, and a flush spread up her neck when the damned neckline of the gown slipped enough to reveal a hard-tipped breast.

Ned growled, gathering her to him, and her legs parted. Her voluminous skirts were bunched between them, but she could clearly feel his hardness.

Then he grunted a curse and sighed. "Later," he grated out, his voice low and deep and ripe with frustrated desire.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath as they slowly parted, and she felt his absence keenly. "Later," she echoed.

Then she giggled as she reached up to touch his lips lightly with one fingertip, adjusting her neckline with her other hand. "An alibi?" she suggested, drawing her hand away from his mouth to show him her red-smeared skin.

Ned grinned. "It's a good one, isn't it," he commented.

--

Fifteen guests, the most the estate could handle, were installed in their rooms by the following afternoon. Fifteen guests, each with a companion.

Companion. Ned snorted at the euphemism as he strode around the house. The last carriage was stabled, the horses dealt with, the kitchen staff ready.

Tonight.

Despite Ned's misgivings, Frank Hardy and his brother Joe were playing at being guests. Lady Cavendish, a few members of the Omega club, and some of Nancy's other acquaintances, two of whom Ned would swear were other recovered victims, were playing as staff as well.

The invited guests and the women they had bought vastly outnumbered Nancy, Ned, and their compatriots, but they were united in their dedication to the cause. None among them wanted to risk losing this opportunity, not when it had been so very difficult to execute.

The rented house was decorated as a sumptuous destination for the upper-class monsters they were seeking, luxurious and sensual, promising all sorts of tantalizing delights. The largest room boasted a slightly tamer imitation of a gaming hell, per Frank and Joe, with tables for games and cards. The practically de rigueur opium was offered alongside the brandy and port.

Ned almost, almost could have felt guilty over it. But no matter whether they opted for the opium or were dosed with the laudanum, this was going to happen.

They were all in attendance. Tonight they would set up the endgame. Nancy hadn't wanted the enslaved women to spend a single additional night in the hell of captivity, and Ned had agreed with her wholeheartedly.

Because he had seen them, the women these abominable men had brought with them, delighted to flaunt them while away from their wives and polite society. That had been one of the most delicate parts, inviting them in a way that would let them know their unique tastes and preferences would not only be allowed, but encouraged and indulged. Their companions had to accompany them, or the whole plan would fall apart entirely. While the party would have made an excellent distraction under other circumstances, they didn't have the resources in place to take that kind of coordinated advantage of it.

The women themselves looked like they were living through a nightmare. Their gazes reflected only brief flickers of interest in the world around them. Ned had been watching for it, and he saw the resignation, the disgust, the utter defeat.

Given some of the guests' requests for their rooms, Ned wasn't surprised. Ropes, fetters, other instruments that could be meant for nothing pleasant. Nancy had personally ensured that the fetters wouldn't secure, the ropes would fray, and anything else bore subtle damage that rendered it useless. Still, she had told Ned last night, the ropes actually weren't as important as the psychological hold, the captives' belief that no help was coming, that there was no hope for them. Their wrists could be shackled by no more than captors' fingers, and that would be enough.

Nancy hadn't slept. Despite all he had done to relax and exhaust her, she had still been too upset to sleep. They were so close. In just a few hours now...

If everything went according to plan.

Tonight the gaming hell would be scaled back, replaced by a large ballroom hosting a masquerade. That had been Lady Cavendish's idea. The punch would be laced with sedative, potent and subtle, its taste and fragrance obscured by the other ingredients. Once their prey was subdued, Nancy, Bess, and the rest of them would take over, separating the men from their captives.

Ned was more than eager for it. He felt ready to burst with impatience at the wait, and couldn't even imagine the stress his—

Ned blinked. He had just almost mentally referred to her as his wife.

Well, she soon would be. No point in going back to fiancée now.

He had a broad grin on his face when he saw her—his wife—again, and she met his expression with mingled suspicion and hope on her own. "Some new development?" she asked anxiously, casting a quick glance back at the punch bowl.

Ned shook his head and wordlessly swept her up. "Not in the main intrigue," he corrected himself. "I'm just ready for this to be finished. I'm ready for us to together."

Her brow smoothed as she searched his eyes. "As am I," she murmured. "You've done so much..."

"We've done so much," he replied.

A genteel throat clearing near them had them both glancing over. No one at the party would be scandalized at seeing the two of them this way, but Ned still placed Nancy on her feet again, though he kept his arms around her. Lady Cavendish's eyes were sparkling, and one corner of her lips had quirked up.

Then Bess turned more serious. "A delicate matter," she told Nancy, and Nancy gave Ned's hand a squeeze before she picked up her skirts and strode purposefully after her friend.

When Ned saw Nancy again, half an hour later, she was speaking to one of the first guests in attendance at the masquerade. She had her hand on his arm, and her manner was—openly flirtatious, conciliatory, assuring. He made some brief response, followed by a belly laugh that made Ned's own stomach churn.

Then Nancy turned and saw Ned, and her mask entirely dropped. Before she could reassemble her expression into something less honest, he saw rage and something close to fear there.

He hadn't been able to see Bess about whatever had made her summon Nancy; there had been enough fires to put out, and even now he knew Frank and Joe were dealing with something else. But he'd needed to be here, to make sure Nancy was all right.

Ned extended his arm and Nancy accepted it with a nod of her curl-topped head. Her mask and costume were outrageous, bedecked in feathers and shimmering glass disks that caught and scattered the light. All eyes were meant to be on her, because that meant they wouldn't be elsewhere.

It made Ned want to gather her up and seal her behind some locked door for the evening, for the trickiest part of their entire plan.

"What's wrong?" he murmured.

She turned a dazzling grin on him. "The guest I was just addressing," she replied, the tension in her voice at odds with her demeanor, her voice thick with sarcasm as she, seemingly careless, pointed him out. "Burned the woman he brought with him. We were dressing her wounds, and I was just assuring him that she would be here as soon as possible. Which is never." For a moment, she allowed her smile to drop entirely, allowed the rage to touch her eyes again. "It's at times like this that I realize an accident in the dosage wouldn't be so bad. Were he to die tonight, he would go straight to hell."

Ned was both shocked and ridiculously aroused. "The problem of disposal of the corpses," he pointed out, his tone bland and barely engaged.

Her grin returned, and in it he saw the woman he had fallen for, fierce and brilliant and passionate, ready to take on the world for what she believed in. "Fires are often tragic," she pointed out, trying for the same tone of polite disinterest. "But they can be so cathartic, as well."

Ned dropped her arm to slide his around her waist and give her a squeeze. "I love you," he murmured.

A small fraction of the tension in her eased. "And I love you," she replied.

At some points, Ned's friends, Nancy's co-conspirators, donned costumes and masks and mingled with the crowd, mostly dancing with each other. Some of the men were strangers to each other, which was perfect. Ned could almost feel Nancy's stomach churning when she announced slow dances, when she called for another round of toasts, another, timed perfectly for the main event.

The language had devolved such that it burned Ned's ears to hear it, the guffaws, the hearty comments that were completely unfit for their companions' ears—or any ears, actually. He'd had no doubt that what they were doing was right, or that the men they were here to punish deserved it. Maybe they weren't planning to burn down the rented estate with the men locked inside, leaving them to the same fate as the mastermind of this hell.

Maybe just not yet.

Ned gave his head a little shake as Nancy stood on the raised platform near the musicians, and he tapped a glass for her.

"We've planned a very special round of entertainment," she said, with a winning grin. "All ladies, please accompany me. Our guests, I guarantee you will be very surprised by tonight's climax." Only the faintest wink accompanied the words, and the crowd erupted in hearty cries of approval. "Now, if you will..."

And they let them go.

Nancy ushered them out, into the waiting arms of Lady Cavendish and her attendees. The night was very dark, the moon obscured by thick clouds, and the weather was fairly miserable. Ned kept a mental checklist, and once he was gazing out on a sea of superfine jackets, spotless neckcloths, and insultingly small masks, he let his lips curl up in a smile.

"Another toast," he proposed, raising his hand with a gesture. Their co-conspirators began to circulate through the crowd, bearing flutes of a very exclusive champagne, each carefully drugged. The punch bowl was being refilled as well, for those who didn't care for champagne—and would need their opium that way.

"To the hostess," Ned continued, raising his flute of cider. In no way would he risk an accidental dose, given how tricky tonight was. "To the fairer sex, and to all tonight will mean."

--

Bess cleared her throat.

Nancy's heart was throbbing just above her collarbone. She swallowed and nearly choked.

All of her mental energy, all of her, was split between the dower house and the main house. Wherever she was, she wanted to be at the other. She wanted to see what Ned and his friends were doing; she wanted to make sure the women were okay.

She wanted to put on a pair of heavy boots and kick some unconscious men most of all.

"You're not going back," Bess announced. "And if the man who bought his access to you frequents London, you can't go back there either. The last thing any of us want is for you to be recaptured.

"We have a few plans. One plan might involve emigration."

"America?" one woman asked. She looked dazed, like she was waking.

"America, the Continent. Somewhere else. Scotland or Ireland."

"Not going back?" another woman asked. She looked so, so tired.

A third stood up. "What's going on?"

Nancy had changed out of her elaborate costume and taken her hair down. She wore a plain blue dress, dark enough to help disguise her, to help her blend in with the domestic staff if needed. When she stood beside Bess, she saw a few women recognize her—and flinch back in fear.

"We've drugged them," she announced, her tone flat. "I'd set the house on fire if I could. For what they've done to you..." She caught her hands trembling and clenched them into fists. "We've liberated other women who were bought as you were, trained them for other careers. Given them the means to start over with new lives.

"I can't change what happened to you. I wish I could. But I'll do what I can to make sure it doesn't follow you now."

Two women, including the one who had been treated for burns earlier, began sobbing. Another tipped her head back, gazing at the ceiling, and cried silently.

A young woman with dark hair raised her hand. "My—belongings? I..."

"We'll go through the luggage and return your things to you. Or, if you can stomach it, I'm sure we can bring you back to the main house for that."

An hour later, Nancy was exhausted. She'd answered questions, provided hugs and advice, and ultimately spoken to every woman in the dower house. Some of the women had finally found the strength to be angry over the hell they had just escaped, and their determination galvanized Nancy, their rage over what had happened. Some of them still couldn't quite believe the torment was over yet, and those, she was sure, would be spending some time with Bess and the other survivors before finding a new path.

Nancy was waiting for the tea to steep, to fortify herself until she could actually let herself catch a few hours of sleep, when Bess patted her arm.

"If you want to go back to the main house, just to see for yourself..."

Nancy paused and nodded. She bolted the tea down when it was a hair's breadth from scalding, then wrapped her cloak around her and rushed back to the main house.

Ned was on the patio, sitting beside a dim lantern. He rose at her approach.

"How—"

"Without a hitch," he replied, opening his arms as she dashed toward him. She released a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob as they collided, and while he staggered slightly and grunted at their impact, he embraced her tightly. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and buried her face against his chest.

"It's almost done," he murmured, once she had recovered a little. He was stroking his palm over her back in rhythmic circles. "Almost done. How are they?"

The survivors. Nancy sniffled and pulled back to look into Ned's face. Being so close to him, feeling his hands on her—the tension in her had grown and grown the entire day, especially once the masquerade had begun, and even knowing everything was nearly finished—

She touched his cheek and when their mouths met, it was like he knew what she needed: a rough, possessive, claiming kiss that left her knees weak. A flush bloomed in her cheeks as he gathered her to him again, lifting her so her feet were no longer touching the ground, and she returned his kiss eagerly, almost squirming in pleasure at the feel of his arousal.

She'd put her mouth on him, there. And she would do it again, too, happily, knowing how eagerly he responded to it.

"I need you," she gasped, breathless, when he broke the kiss.

His dark eyes were warm as he searched her gaze. "What...?"

And then they were kissing again, this time thorough, tender, slow. She combed her fingers through his hair, arching her back to press herself to him.

"Christ," he muttered. "I'd kill for a cup of tea. And—to find somewhere we could be alone. I assume..."

He gestured briefly behind him, and Nancy shook her head so quickly her hair struck her cheek. "I just..."

His lips quirked up, and he nodded in acknowledgement. The men they had drugged were all locked in their rooms now, to allow plenty of time for the just-released captives to make their initial plans. A caravan of the survivors would likely depart at daybreak, and they would have enough of a head start to avoid the men. Based on the reactions of some of the women, Nancy thought that a few of them would set out for America immediately.

A part of her envied that journey. She had never been, and though the ordeal sounded long and arduous, sometimes deadly, the destination sounded thrilling.

"The dower house?"

Nancy glanced over her shoulder at it. While her body was definitely willing, the logistics were less clear. Nancy hadn't planned to sleep elsewhere tonight; she hadn't realized how she would feel about returning to the main house, being so close to the men they had captured. Neither had Ned. And the dower house was overflowing; rooms were shared, with some women on makeshift beds, couches, pillows and blankets arranged as comfortably as possible on thick rugs. It wasn't the most dignified situation, but at least it was a step in the right direction.

As she considered, Ned's lips found her earlobe and Nancy clung to him, her head lolling, her lashes drifting down. "Nowhere to go there," she moaned, shivering at the feel of his breath against her neck. "I..."

If the grass hadn't been wet, Nancy had a feeling Ned would simply have found some spot out of public view and just lowered her to it. She also wasn't so sure she would have cared, at least not until after.

Nancy heard someone clear a throat nearby, and she blushed as Ned slowly released her breast. Maybe the night was too dark...

Oh, as though anyone present would be scandalized.

"Musgrave," one of the men said quietly.

Ned made a rough, disappointed sound. "Stay here?" he asked, drawing his thumb down her cheek, and she nodded, gazing into his eyes. It was hard to see anything clearly out here, anything other than him.

Once he had disappeared inside the house, she collapsed into the chair Ned had vacated, then turned to crane her neck. Not all the windows of the occupied rooms were visible from this vantage point, but they were all dark. She heard no shouts, no cries, no demands for liberation.

It was far, far more than they deserved. After all they had done, especially the one who had burned the poor girl. Nancy had seen the old scars, too.

And most of them... she would never have known, before. Nothing about them looked sinister. A handful were advanced in age, some rotund, some whipcord-thin. Their sense of humor was hearty, if edged in darkness. And for some, the allure of this event had clearly been showing off the women they had bought. Being in a group of like-minded men who would understand, indulge, even boast.

Adrenaline and nausea were a horrible combination. Nancy wrapped both arms around her midsection and leaned forward slightly.

With all her strength, she wanted to burn it down. With every woman she recovered, she realized all over again how lucky she had been to escape the same fate. Given a chance, given the tools to write and a friend on the staff, she could have contacted her father and had her captor destroyed. The other women hadn't had that option.

When Ned reappeared, Nancy stood. "What happened?"

"Just deciding who will be where. Especially since your friends," he put the slightest emphasis on the words, "decided to start their trip to find the other one."

Nancy nodded. "So you will need to be where you can be found."

He took another step toward her, sliding his arm around her waist. "Not immediately," he murmured. His lips and breath were so warm against her neck.

Nancy's lashes fluttered down again. "There's a gazebo," she murmured.

The structure in question was sheltered from the weather from most directions, thanks to thick tree growth; it was nearly pitch-black inside, relieved slightly by the dim lantern. Ned unshielded it and placed it on the floor before shaking out his jacket. Several trees had scattered collected rainwater over him while they had been searching for this place.

The men were locked up, drugged. Harmless. She could get past this irrational aversion and sleep in Ned's chamber tonight. She could.

Nancy turned to Ned in a whirl of skirts. "Have they fires in their rooms?"

Ned paused to process her abrupt question. "No," he said. "Those who could struggle out of their jackets did, but most are likely snoring on their counterpanes and will wake shivering. No less than they deserve." He took one of the quilts out of her arms and shook it out. "Is it too cold here?"

Nancy shook her head as she adjusted the other quilt, letting it spill out. "They are the men who should be transported," she replied, with a savage twist of her wrist. "Not the women who just had the bad luck to cross paths with that monster."

"America. I've never been."

"Nor have I. And I'd suggest a visit, just not under these circumstances." Nancy sighed. Ned, avoiding a puddle on the floor, found a relatively dry, relatively clean place to spread the quilt.

Ned chuckled. "The very height of romance," he murmured. "I should have realized, love. I apologize."

"For my reluctance to return, tonight?"

He nodded.

"How could you? When even I didn't realize." She raised her eyebrows when he reached for his laces. "Besides, in the morning—"

He raised his eyebrows in return. "Yes?"

"I'll be there with you anyway. I can..." She gestured helplessly. Yes, maybe she could sleep in Ned's arms, knowing that none of the men could burn the estate down, intentionally or not. But that tension was still thrumming in her, and being intimate with him seemed out of the question.

That, or she just really didn't want to wait that long to be with him again.

"We'll build a nice fire. Drape our clothes in front of it and sleep naked," he suggested, taking a step toward her. "Dream of retribution and revenge."

"I've dreamed of that enough." She stood her ground, keeping her gaze trained on his face.

"Dream of all that will come after."

"After this incredible present."

He made a dismissive sound, accompanied by a bare flick of his fingertips. "A mere trifle for my beloved. Only the most discriminating spouses rent a country estate for a long weekend of reverse debauchery and blackmail."

"You've figured out the morning."

"Iced the cake, as it were." He drew close enough to slide his arms around her again. "As you pointed out," he murmured more quietly, "once they've tasted this, not much could prevent their indulging again."

When she touched his cheek, very little of the humor was left in her expression. "It is not our job to punish it," she murmured. "But when it seems to belong to no other..."

He swept her into a kiss that left her breathless. Thankfully the dress she wore laced easily, and he needed no knife to loose it; thankfully she wore very little beneath the garment to impede his progress. For his part, Ned was barely unclothed at all.

When she surfaced, they were on the floor together, hopefully on the quilts. She was straddling his lap, gasping against his neck, drunk at their closeness. His thumb was brushing against her nipple and he was nuzzling against her as he slid his other hand lower. She toyed with his hair, and slid a little closer to him.

He growled against her skin. "What do you need, love," he breathed, and his hand slid up her thigh.

She shuddered, arching to allow him more access as he moved beneath the yards of fabric covering her. "Release," she whispered.

His next breath was a dark chuckle. "Always," he murmured. "In this way?"

His hand moved between her thighs and she pushed herself up on her knees, trembling with need. She brushed helpless, soft kisses against his cheek and jaw, her eyes sewn shut, as she rubbed herself against his hand.

Then his thumb found that place, that achingly tender place.

She rubbed against his hand with rapid thrusts of her hips, feeling her breasts jolt with the motion. She was dimly aware of his other hand, sliding up, and then he was cupping her breast and kissing her, hard.

Her release was overwhelming. A small, small part of her was horrified by how utterly wanton she was behaving, how eager she was, how unabashed. And it wasn't as though Ned had stopped touching her; he was fondling her, nuzzling against her. His voice was deep and rough, and she was gasping and sobbing too loudly to understand what he was saying, but it didn't seem to matter.

She reached her climax with a loud cry, and though the intensity of it left her shuddering, she couldn't seem to stop rubbing against him. They kissed again and again, and when she was spent, she collapsed against him abruptly.

Ned grunted, and when she shifted, she was pressed against him, directly, his erection against her slick flesh. His hips thrust shallowly a few times, and he grunted again, then let out a long groan.

Nancy was too exhausted to move. She realized that he had reached his own climax, but she also couldn't seem to care. He hadn't been inside her, so she couldn't really worry.

"Nancy. My love. Oh, my love."

He reclined onto the quilt and she moved with him, cuddled against his chest, still astride him. He stroked her back and she made a quiet pleased sound.

They couldn't sleep here, and she knew that. Going back to the estate house and sleeping in the bed they had shared held no horror for her now. He would be with her. They would be all right.

But she just wanted to rest her eyes for a moment.

He traced his fingertips down her spine. Her bared breasts were pressed against his jacket. The join of her thighs was pressed against his. And they were in the open; no locked door stood between them and any casual observers.

The lantern was casting flickering dim light over them when she sighed, bracing her hands to push herself up. "We should get back," she murmured.

He nodded, pushing himself up too, and began to tug her dress back up. "Need to stop on the way?"

She paused. "I should," she murmured. "Bess didn't exactly excuse me for the rest of the evening, and at a time like this, some of the women might need extra care."

He offered her a hand up, and regarded her silently for a moment. "I think, under the circumstances, she would appreciate a brief visit," he replied. "I think that if you find they're getting along well without you..."

She smiled. "Will you be waiting on the patio again?"

He nodded and reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I'm yours," he murmured. "Utterly. Completely. Ten minutes?"

"Mmm. Twenty." She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a sweet kiss. "Then I'll take advantage of that generous offer of yours to dry my gown."

His smile became a grin. "Good."

--

In his sleep, all the warnings subsided.

At one point, Ned thought he would be awake all night, too eager to see the final scene of this elaborate drama he planned, to destroy this nightmare for the women they'd liberated once and for all. But he was exhausted, especially once his betrothed was alone with him, her dress spread before the dying hearth to dry it, and she was naked and in his arms. Surely life would allow them a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

But when Ned slowly returned to something near awareness, his cock was wet, pressed against something wet and warm and yielding—

And Nancy was making soft whimpering sounds—

He yelped, rolling away from her, shock galvanizing him. After a few breaths he reassured himself that while they had definitely been—close, he hadn't quite been inside her, and muttered a stream of profanity that would have had his very polite, genteel mother sweetly asking him to lean down so his cheek could be within her armspan.

Nancy was panting, and she rolled onto her back too; she had been facing away from him, and his legs had been tucked up behind hers, providing him—well. A very convenient configuration for what was just going on.

"Forgive me," Ned panted. Though he said it quietly, the silence in the room made the sound of his voice loud, shocking.

"No," Nancy replied. "To do so I'd need to beg forgiveness myself, and I shan't. I very much enjoyed what you were just doing."

Ned paused. "I was asleep," he admitted. "And could very well have... progressed beyond the line you've drawn for us. So I renew my apology."

"You were neither responsible nor a villain," she said. She turned onto her side to face him, and when he finally managed to force himself to meet her eyes, she hesitated for a brief second, then stretched her arm up and caressed his cheek. "You're the man I love," she said, very gently.

He smiled, brief, small, and humorless. "Love does not preclude reprehensible behavior," he replied. "As little a barrier as it presents, I'll remember not to come to bed naked anymore."

She made a quiet disappointed sound; in the darkness she was a vague shape, and he couldn't see her expression. "As long as you promise not to stop... providing these very welcome demonstrations."

"Did I arrest your release, love?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"Well." His heart was pounding. She just didn't know how dangerous this was—or maybe she did, and that was part of the appeal. "Now that I'm aware and can pull myself back, we could continue."

She groped for his hand in the dark, rolling over to face away from him, tugging him toward her, in a wordless plea.

He had to be so, so very careful, but hearing her whimper and sob as he thrust himself between the press of her thighs, her arousal slick and warm on his cock, was more than enough compensation for it. He had looped his hand under her to caress her breasts while his other hand was splayed against her crotch, holding her in place, his finger crooked against that slick button of flesh to tease and stimulate it.

She was so, so close, but Ned couldn't hold out; once he'd spent himself, likely leaving a mess on the bedclothes, he turned her on her back and opened her legs wide.

Nancy barely had time to pull his pillow over her face before she was releasing a loud sobbed scream into it. Her hips rocked in gentle, erratic undulation as he teased and sucked that small nub of flesh.

Finally, so very slowly, he released her. She was panting again, legs sprawled carelessly open.

"You're insatiable," he murmured. He traced his fingertips up her thigh and she shuddered.

"That implies there could ever be enough," she replied. "I'm not sure there can be."

He settled down beside her again, and she rolled over to snuggle against him.

"The first time," he murmured, his lashes already low, "we take that step, both of us should be aware and eager for it. I'd hate to have no memory of it because it took place in my sleep."

"Point taken," she replied, her breath warm against his chest. She was quiet for a few heartbeats. "Couples really... complete the act in that position?"

"If they wish."

"Hmm." She shifted her position against him slightly as she considered. "I liked some elements of it, but not seeing your face was a definite drawback."

Ned smiled. "Then we won't use that position the first time."

She pressed her lips against his chest in a gentle kiss, and Ned was shocked at the tenderness in the gesture, and how he ached in reply. He stroked her hair and she was sweet, soft, relaxed against him.

Then she sighed, and though Ned was drifting off again—there was something he needed to do, but he couldn't quite remember what, and he was very comfortable—he felt her tense slightly, and that roused him a little.

"I know what I said, and I still feel that way, but..."

"Which statement?"

She grumbled slightly. "That you would earn my hand through this," she said.

Ned's heart skipped a beat and sank just a little. He didn't understand. "There was a bit more to it," he commented, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Yes. And... well. I think it would only help our cause if—"

Only once he heard the knock at the door did Ned realize he had faintly registered the sound of footsteps in the hallway. "They're beginning to stir, Musgrave."

"I'm talking to my wife," Ned called back. "Once she's ready we'll convene in the morning room."

Grumbling, Ned scrabbled around enough to light one of the candles at the bedside, and when the faint illumination touched her in the blue pre-dawn light, he saw her tousled hair, her luminous blue eyes, her pale untroubled brow, and his heart skipped a beat again.

"Your wife?" she repeated, but she was smiling.

Ned opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "I apologize."

"Don't." She tossed the covers back and stood on the mattress, taking the few steps to close the distance between them and wrap her arms around him. Having her breasts on level with his head was more than a bit distracting. "That's part of what I was trying to say. I don't see the benefit in waiting any longer."

She was running her fingers through his hair and he was gazing up at her, searching her eyes. "I will depart for London and obtain a special license as soon as humanly possible," he told her, no hint of merriment in his eyes. "Should you will it."

She smiled. "I can wait for the banns," she replied. Then she moved to press her lips against his cheek, to brush her lips against his earlobe, and Ned shivered. "But I think of you as my husband too. As far as I'm concerned, it's a formality. We've lived as some form of husband and wife, you're exceptional in every possible way—"

And Ned, growling, managed to tackle her to the bed. She gazed up at him, laughing in delight, wrapping herself around him.

"Banns," he agreed. "Consummation, then wedding?"

"Well. I suppose I do need to make sure that I don't find the act utterly appalling at its completion." She smiled again. "Though given all evidence thus far, I can't imagine... well. Merely enduring it."

"By our wedding night, you definitely won't be 'enduring it,'" Ned swore, then captured her mouth in a long, sweet kiss.

--

Once they were all in the morning room, Ned's plan took a bit of convincing, but Nancy just shook her head, gazing at him, arms crossed. While she knew that there was no glowing brand on her cheek or brow declaring that she had just been rolling around naked in bed with him, while she was equally positive that all those around them likely suspected they had that kind of relationship, she was doing all she could to present herself as a proper lady, but she also couldn't tear her gaze from him.

Nothing was perfect. How could anything be perfect in this terrible situation? But this...

She and Ned had talked it over, and she was frustrated that the women they had rescued were being punished for their participation in a morally bankrupt scheme, especially when that participation had been entirely against their will and the women had been kept in servitude. Their situations had been desperate beforehand, but now... now, for too many of them, Nancy was afraid that they would be forced into situations that were only marginally better than what they had just endured. Maybe they had been liberated from one sadistic master just to sign themselves over to another. Bess could find employment for some of them, but life as a domestic wasn't as simple as wishing for it.

And Ned's solution meant the women wouldn't need to depart for America or Australia, or hide themselves, or scrabble to make ends meet, if it worked.

The men divided up the guests among them, and Nancy stood just outside as Ned went in to visit the first on his list; she couldn't stop herself.

"I represent a man who wishes to remain anonymous," Ned began, once he had smoothed the aggrieved victim's ruffled feathers and assured him that his overindulgence during the previous night's party had resulted in his being gently ushered to his chamber between two muscular men. "The father of the companion who accompanied you."

"Father?" the sadist replied, incredulous.

"A certain earl who has demanded satisfaction of you, for your ill treatment of his daughter."

Nancy closed her eyes in bliss at the choking, apoplectic sound that followed. "I—how?"

"The doctor who arranged the companionship misrepresented her to you," Ned said, keeping his voice warm, gentle, understanding. "Now, as I said, he's hired me to discuss this unbearable situation. If he lays eyes on you, he will destroy you, via any avenue available to him."

"I—I simply don't understand," the man sputtered. "How... how could she have ended up..."

"I would refer you to the doctor in question, but unless you know a good medium, he's beyond your reach."

"This is..." He sighed. "A duel, then."

"He is not so genteel as that. His experience in service has connected him with many men who would do much to defend him, and his daughter."

"Rough men."

"Unquestionably," Ned agreed. "I could pass along the news that you have departed for another country, that you are beyond his reach. For a price. And of course you must agree to stay out of London."

"Out—No!"

"Your choice." Ned's voice was casually dismissive, and Nancy heard the quiet groan of a chair as he likely stood. "His nephew is downstairs, having collected his cousin, and he would be delighted to meet you. And ascertain the color of your insides."

Each man was being approached with a similar story: that the companion had been collected by a male relative, that she was the daughter, niece, by-blow of a powerful, superlatively angry man, and that he could be appeased via a polite lie and a monthly fee. One by one they were escorted downstairs for a hasty departure, avoiding a fictional, furious male relative. If they compared notes with each other, the stories were different enough to keep from raising suspicion, while similar enough to fit a pattern that the doctor might have been following. Ned, for his part, blamed grudges, a certain perverse pleasure at knowing he was making a fool of the client, an old score, a sick sense of humor. He wasn't around to defend himself.

After listening to a few, Nancy walked over to the dower house. The money Ned was negotiating could be considered almost a dowry, the kind of money the men might settle on a mistress. The kind of money that, for as long as it could be collected and passed on to the victims of this terrible scheme, would allow them the time and space to heal.

Nancy shook her head to herself. If she hadn't already told Ned that she was more than ready to marry him, that would have done it.

Bess had been told of the plan, and over tea, Nancy confirmed that it was working. Bess collapsed backward in her chair with a sigh of relief, her hand over her heart.

"This is absolutely fantastic," Bess declared. "Ah. So very wonderful. The perfect way to end this."

"And the perfect way to approach the others, once we find them," Nancy pointed out. "A quick note, a meeting, and we escort her away. Oh, Bess, it's... it's more than I ever dreamed."

Bess fanned herself. "I am so pleased I could be here to witness it, too. They're so sweet, Nancy. So wounded." She peered in Nancy's direction. "And you, dear, are positively aglow."

Nancy flushed a bit. "I've given my permission for the banns."

Bess squealed in pure delight. "How could you not, after this," she said. "He's been a marvel. Oh, this... could this be better?"

Nancy smiled. "I'm not sure how," she admitted.