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The Outrageous Dowager
by
Sarah Westleigh

Lexie hurried to escape... Stirred to admiration, James Grah Marquess
of Stormaston, watched her t figure making its hurried yet graceful
retr, a small, satisfied smile on his fine lips.  she really believe
that he had not recogni her?  He had done so the moment her e had
lifted and widened in recognition.  man could mistake those beautiful
green c in the elfin beauty of her small face.  He felt her allure all
those years ago when had captured poor old Amber.  She had b out of
bounds to him then, but now... Sarah Westleigh has enjoyed a varied
life.  Working as a local government officer in London, she qualified
as a chartered quantity surveyor.  She assisted her husband in his
chartered accountancy practice, at the same time managing an employment
agency.  Moving to Devon, she finally found time to write, publishing
short stories and articles, before discovering historical novels.

Recent titles by the same author:.

FELON'S FANCY

CHEVALIER'S PAWN

A LADY OF INDEPENDENT MEANS

ESCAPE TO DESTINY

A MOST EXCEPTIONAL QUEST

OUTRAGEOUS

DOWAGER

Sarah Westleigh

MILLS BOON

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All the characters tn this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or nctmes.  They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents
are pure lnventior

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Sarah Westleigh 1996

ISBN 0 263 79533 0

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CHAPTER ONE

LONDON seethed with joyous, cheering crowds celebrating peace.  With
Boney safely incarcerated on Elba, twenty years of war had ended.  The
day before, on June the sixth 1814, six weeks after the last shot had
been fired, the Allied Sovereigns had landed on English soil, come to
visit the people who, by their unflinching determination to oppose
Napoleon, had contributed so much to the allied victory.

At the port of Dover, detachments from the most famous regiments of the
British Army had been there to greet Czar Alexander of Russia and the
King of Prussia, the latter accompanied by his young sons and old Field
Marshal yon Blucher, his Chancellor.  Prince Metternich, the Chancellor
of Austria, was among other famous names to come ashore with them.

Today they were due to arrive in London as guests of the Regent, and
the people of the capital thronged the streets to cheer them.  Coaches,
carts and wooden stands lined the route from the south-east suburbs to
St.  James's Palace.  Word went round that the Regent's
scarlet-and-gold-clad postilions would not be needed, for the
exuberant, swamping multitude planned to unhorse the coaches and drag
them in triumph over London Bridge.

Lexie had not ventured into the suburbs to view the procession but the
seething excitement in the capital proved too much for her and,
ignoring the protests of

Mrs.  Caroline Baldwin, a remote cousin by marriage who lived with her,
she had donned her oldest and plainest garments, intending to walk from
her house in Bruton Street to St.  James's to see what she could see.

"Really, Alexia?  Mrs.  Baldwin had exclaimed.  "I sometimes think you
quite forget your position!  What your poor dear husband would have
said I cannot imagine?

"Amber would have understood," Lexie had retorted as she tucked the
last wisp of her fair hair out of sight beneath an old chip bonnet and
tied the black ribbons beneath her determined chin--coupled with the
washed-out grey muslin gown she had worn in the garden at Porthewan,
the Earl of Amber's estate in Cornwall, it rendered her
inconspicuous.

Colourless might have been a better description, she had mused wryly,
with her pale skin and fair eyebrows and lashes.  All the better.  She
had had no wish to be recognised.  As a finishing touch she had
fastened a plain white fichu about her shoulders, since the neck-line
of the dress was a little low for walking out and it would not be
prudent to carry a parasol to protect her from the sun.

She could have been sitting in one of the stands erected for the
privileged, but she hadn't wanted that.  What she craved was freedom
from the constraints of convention, the opportunity to take risks.
Amber had understood that--why else had he bought her a sporting
curricle and a splendid pair of matched blacks with which to race about
his cliff-top estate?

He had watched and applauded her expertise with the ribbons and,
despite his age, had accompanied her on many of her more sedate
excursions.  She had heard it said that it was better to be an old
man's darling than a young man's slave.  Certainly, it had not been
unpleasant to be the first but she had no intention of ever becoming
the second.  If and when she married again "Well, I do not!"

Cousin Caro's usually fluttery voice cut firmly across her thoughts.
She must be upset, thought Lexie with a secret smile.  It took little
to agitate the elderly widow whom she had discovered living in reduced
circumstances.  Lexie had needed a gentlewoman like her cousin, related
however distantly to the Earl, to give her establishment
respectability, and so had installed her as her companion.

Cousin Cato fluttered about making life more comfortable for her young
cousin and made few demands.  But she did have strict ideas about what
was and was not done in polite society.  Mixing with the noisy,
sweating mob was something that was definitely not.

"Why you wish to expose yourself to molestation by those common people
I cannot imagine!"  went on Mrs.  Baldwin when Lexie did not reply.

"Because they are so joyous, so excited, and are truly enjoying
themselves for once," Lexie explained soberly.  "It is not often they
have a holiday.  I would like to share in their happiness.  They will
not harm me."

"I sincerely hope not," sniffed Mrs.  Baldwin.  "I would not trust
myself--'

"But you are not me," Lexie pointed out.  "If you are to be happy here
with me, Cousin, you must learn to accept my rackety ways.  I cannot
live the restricted life convention demands.  I did during my come-out
year and I loathed it after the freedom I had enjoyed in Ireland.  For
years I have been incarcerated in the depths of Cornwall and more
recently have been forced to lead a retired life in mourning for Amber.
Now I intend to live a little.  He told me I should, and left me the
means to do so."

Cousin Caro shook her grey head in its elaborate lace cap and sniffed
again.  "I would not have thought it of my cousin!"

"He understood me," said Lexie dreamily, remembering the indulgent
peer, old enough to be her grandfather, who had recently lost his only
son.  She had been coaxed into marrying him because he was an earl and
could offer her security.  She had not managed to provide him with an
heir but he had not held it against her, admitting that it was probably
his fault, he was too old to beget a child.

Because he had loved her, he had left her the un entailed estate of
Merryfield in Hertfordshire and the town house in Bruton Street--from
which she was about to depart on her adventure--not to mention more
than enough money invested in the Funds to enable her to live exactly
as she liked.  His nephew, the new earl, had been furious to see so
much of his uncle's fortune left elsewhere.

"At least take Chalker with you," pleaded Cousin Caro, referring to
Lexie's personal maid, Florence Chalker.  "She knows London better than
you do!"

"She never liked it in Cornwall and was glad to return," grinned Lexie.
"She has already gone out.  I

sent her off an hour or more ago."

"Then I must--'

"No," you must not, Cousin."  .Lexie regarded the plump figure of her
companion with tolerant affection.  "You would become faint in the heat
and be of no use at all.  Wait for me here.  I shall not remain out for
long."

She left Mrs.  Baldwin reclining on the chaise longue in a flutter of
anxiety and made her way from her house by the servants" entrance. Most
of the staff had already been given permission to go out to join the
celebrating crowds, leaving Mrs.  Walker, the cook, and Mr. Dymock, the
butler, to look after things.

She managed to make her way to St.  James's without too much trouble,
for she knew the nearby streets well by now, having lived in London for
several weeks.  The King of Prussia, with his sons, arrived almost as
Lexie joined the throng outside the palace.  The cheers, she felt
certain, would be heard in the City.

Not that the King seemed to appreciate them much, his air of gaunt
melancholy never lifting.  He left the coach before the doors of the
palace.  His short coat and white pantaloons enabled the distant,
straining crowd to admire his large bottom.  The princes, fair,
upstanding youngsters, followed him down.

But where was the Czar?  Patiently, the good-humoured crowd waited,
calling, shouting, laughing and singing.

They did not yet know it but, in the face of the size and enthusiasm of
the unpoliced populace, the coaches had scattered before crossing
London Bridge.  The Czar's coach had skirted London to the south,
crossing the Thames by Battersea's wooden toll bridge.

Word spread like wildfire that he had entered the capital by the
turnpike at Hyde Park Corner and had gone straight to the Pulteney
Hotel in Piccadilly, where his sister, the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg,
was already installed.  And, once there, he had refused to travel on to
the state apartments reserved for him in St.  James's Palace, declaring
that his sister had persuaded him to remain with her for the duration
of his visit.

A heaving mass of spectators began to flood along St.  James's street
towards the Pulteney, Lexie swept along in their midst.  A stout,
sweaty woman caught at her elbow as Lexie stumbled and would have
fallen.

"Must keep on yer feet, ducks," she advised, revealing blackened teeth
as she grinned.

Lexie nodded and smiled, not trusting herself to speak for fear of
giving herself away by her accent.  For the first time she felt fear.
Had she fallen she would have been trampled to death.  But fear simply
hardened her resolve to remain upright and to see her adventure through
to the end.

She arrived at last before the hotel, deafened by the cheers and calls
for the Czar to show himself.  At length he did, waving from a
first-floor window, a round-faced individual in bottle-green.  His head
rose from the high gold collar of a tunic so padded and laced that he
had difficulty in moving his arms beneath the gold epaulettes.

But he was the greatest Russian of all, leader of the soldiers whose
defence of Moscow had led to Boney's disastrous retreat from which his
army had never recovered.  The cheers echoed all the way back to St.
James's Palace and beyond.

But suddenly, distant jeers could be heard as a lavish coach, escorted
by outriders wearing the red and gold uniforms of the Regent, attempted
to force its way along St.  James's Street towards the hotel.  The
Prince, who had been waiting on his own ground to greet the Czar, had
been forced to make his way through a hostile throng of his father's
subjects to pay his respects to his important visitor.

But the crowd thwarted his intention.  Lexie could hear the hoots and
cat-calls, the cries of "Where's yer wife, then, Prinny?"

"Serves Prinny right," howled the stout woman who, somehow, still
remained at her side.  And although he would never hear her, she
screeched abuse at the royal personage now being forced to turn back.

Lexie felt sorry for a man she knew to be lonely and unhappy.  His
marriage to Caroline of Brunswick had been forced on him for political
and financial reasons.  Of course, he should have resisted more
strongly before entering into the disastrous alliance, for he was
already wed to Mrs.  Fitzherbert at the time.  BUt the Crown and
Parliament refused to accept the legality of that marriage.

He had hated Princess Caroline from the start and tales of his
mistreatment of his wife abounded.  Having met that stout, crude woman,
Lexie did not blame him.  But on the other hand, having married her and
begotten a daughter by.  her, he should have treated her more kindly.

"Can't even fight for "is country," the woman was screeching.  "Not fit
for nuffing "e ain't, "cept finking up new uniforms!"

Lexie opened her mouth to defend the Regent, but thought better of it.
Prinny, she knew, had pleaded to be allowed to fight with the army but
the Constitution would not allow the heir to the throne to risk his
life.

So he had comforted himself by designing uniforms, wearing one himself
when he went to inspect his own regiment, the 10th Hussars.  It was the
nearest he would ever get to action, but through no fault of his own.

However, she soon forgot the discomforts of the Regent in her own.  The
press and stench of unwashed bodies in the heat, the foul breath of the
woman who seemed glued to her side, had begun to overcome her.  She
wasn't used to it, that was her trouble.  lxie knew she must escape the
crowd arkd began to edge her way to its fringes.  Easier said than
done, she found, progress was slow, but eventually, by a determined
effort, she did reach a spot where the crowd had thinned.  She paused
for a moment to draw deep breaths of the slightly less malodorous
air.

That proved a grave mistake.  Two rough-looking men noticed her
fighting for breath and, friendly enough, asked her if she was all
right.

She nodded and incautiously answered, "I'm feeling better now, thank
you."

"Cor, a nob?  They glanced at each other and then looked her up and
down, reaching out to feel the quality of her gown, evident despite its
age, and eying the snowy whiteness of the fichu about her shoulders.
"Wot yer doin" "ere, yet "ighness, mixing wiv the loikes of us?"

"The same as you are," said Lexie, keeping calm.  They did not mean her
harm.  "I wanted to greet the Allied Sovereigns."

"Did, did yer?"  The leader and spokesman's eyes suddenly gleamed.
"Nice bit of gold.  Weft a bit, that."  Lexie's hand flew protectively
to the pin fastening her.  fichu.  Another mistake she'd made.  Amber
had given it to her on her twenty-first birthday and she valued it for
sentimental reasons.  But she should not have worn so finely chased and
valuable an article on the streets.  "Got any rink else under there?"

A great dirty paw shot out to grasp the thin muslin and tear it off
her.  Lexie gasped and struggled to escape but the second man, smaller
but wiry, held her arms from behind while his companion carried on
unimpeded.

"Let me go!"  shrieked "Lexie, beginning to panic.  "Shut yer gob,"
hissed the big man, his hand still clutching at her fichu, "or it'll be
all up wiv yew.  Nice sport it'd be, taming yew afore we cuts yer
throat."

"No!"  she cried.  "Take the brooch and let me go!"  Her last words
became a muffled croak as the man behind clasped a grimy paw over her
mouth, making Lexie heave with revulsion.  One or two people glanced in
their direction but their interest was slight.  Such incidents took
place every day and it was best not to interfere.  The girl might be
the man's wife or daughter and it wasn't wise to get mixed up in family
quarrels.

Lexie began to struggle in earnest.  The good humour with which the
incident had apparently begun had turned sour.  The men were determined
to have her brooch and her, too, if she read them correctly.  That such
a thing could happen in a crowded street without anyone coming to her
rescue!  She would never have believed it!

She stamped on the foot of the man behind her but her soft shoe failed
to make any impact--he scarcely seemed to notice.  The big man had torn
the fichu from her shoulders and was taking the opportunity to reach
down the neck of her dress, hoping to find something valuable, if only
a coin, nestling between her breasts.  When he failed he began to
fondle her flesh instead, sending tremors of disgust streaking through
Lexie.

"We'd better get going," suggested the man behind her.  The big man
nodded.  "Find somewhere's quiet."

Lexie made a supreme effort to tear herself free and managed to emit a
strangled scream.

The effect seemed instantaneous, though afterwards she realised that
help must already have been on its way.  The big man took a cracking
blow on his chin; a thin cane inserted between his legs tripped him up
and he collapsed" at her feet.  A long, blue-clad arm flashed past her
ear to land a bunched fist on the smaller man's jaw.  His grip on her
broke as he slid to the ground.

"Oh!"  gasped Lexie, trembling and almost giving way to the waves of
faintness washing over her.  "Thank you!  I called, but no one
else..."

"Come," said her rescuer brusquely, bending down to retrieve her torn
fichu, the pin still attached, and scanning the crowd quickly as he
rose again.  "The mob may turn upon us.  Besides, these men will revive
in a moment and it would be better if we were not around at the time.
Come, miss.  Take my arm."

Lexie had recovered slightly.  For the first time she looked at her
deliverer.  Her eyes widened before she quickly lowered her head.

Lord Stormaston!  It surely could not be!  Where had his lazy drawl and
languid manner gone?

But she knew that it was, and remembered him and his reputation when
she had known him seven years ago.  How scornful she had been of his
excessive indulgence in all the so-called gentlemanly pleasures of
wine, women and gambling.  She had not had occasion to speak to him
since her return to Society but she had heard the gossip which always
surrounded his activities.

The years had moderated his behaviour somewhat: he drank and gambled
rather less than of old, but he kept an actress in a love nest near
Drury Lane and had lots of other willing women available when he felt
like it.  He was also rumoured to visit Jackson's gymnasium to practice
the noble art of self-defence.  After his recent performance she no
longer doubted the truth of that information.

It was indeed Stormaston, but a different man from the one who
frequented the salons and ballrooms of polite society.

He had given no sign of knowing her.  She desperately did not want him
to recognise her.  It was so many years since they had last met and she
had changed.  She was no longer the unsophisticated" young girl who had
been brought from Ireland by her parents to secure a husband.  She was
now a widow, a mature woman of experience.  He would think her a
foolish child still if he discovered that the erstwhile Lady Alexia
Hamilton had got herself into such a stupid predicament.

She had not taken his arm as requested and kept her head bent as she
felt herself dragged unceremoniously from Piccadilly into a less
frequented side-street.

"That's better," he commented as he slowed his pace, released her arm
and began to massage his broken knuckles.  "I could deal with two of
them by taking them by surprise, but I would not back myself to win a
brawl against both together.  How are you feeling, Miss ... er...?"

"Much better, thank you," murmured Lexie, ignoring his hanging enquiry
as to her name, staring steadily at the silver button fastening his
cut-away coat at his midriff.  "I am most sensible of the service you
have rendered me ... sir, but I shall be all right now.  If I may have
my fichu...?"

"Ah, yes, your fichu."  He stared down at the piece of doth in his hand
as though seeing it for the first time.  He inspected the gold pin
through narrowed eyes and Lexie resolved never to wear it in any
company of which he might form a part.

But next moment, startled, she was looking up into that dark, dangerous
face she remembered so well, at the livid scar which scored his cheek,
a mere thread now, which scarcely marred the symmetry of a remarkably
handsome face dominated by a long, finely chiselled, arrogant nose.

He swung her fichu aloft on the end of his cane.  His black brows
lifted and with them his lazy lids, revealing brilliant blue eyes which
blazed down at her filled with mischievous merriment.

"I think I deserve a prize for delivering you from those rascals and
recovering your property, my dear."

His words had caught her off guard.  But she might have expected such
unchivalrous behaviour from a man with his reputation!  Especially as,
despite the gold pin, he probably thought her nothing more than a
lady's maid, dressed as she was.

A strange smile curved his lips as she jerked her head up in response
to his taunt.  His free hand came out to tilt her chin, so that he
could study her features more closely.  But still he did not recognise
her.  At least, she did not think he did, for the smile became a grin
as, still holding her property out of her reach, he lowered his face
towards hers.

"A kiss, I think," he murmured, and before she could protest he had
covered her mouth with his own.

He held her only by that hand under her chin yet Lexie stood paralysed
as he tasted her lips, gently at first, teasingly.  Then as,
involuntarily, hers began to respond, he deepened the kiss, stirring
strange, foreign feelings in Lexie's mind and body.

Abruptly, as quickly as it had begun, it was over, leaving her bemused.
He seemed rather breathless as he handed her her fichu, the precious
brooch still firmly stuck in the material.

"An ample reward, my dear," he murmured.  "Would you accept my escort
home?  It would be safer for you."

"No!"  gasped Lexie, coming to life again after her stunned
acquiescence to the kiss.  And added a belated, "Thank you.  I shall be
perfectly all right now.  The crowd has moved off and I do not have far
to go."

He bowed, correctly and yet somehow mockingly.  "They have gone to mob
old B1Hcher, I believe.  If you are certain I can be of no further
assistance we must part.  A pity, my dear.  I feel we might deal well
together were you-- "

"Oh, no!  No, please.  I must go.  Goodbye."

In her confusion Lexie almost stumbled over her own feet in her hurry
to escape.  She knew the way but did not want to make straight for
Bruton Street.  He might try to follow her.  But although she looked
over her shoulder several times on her way back she saw no further sign
of the disreputable Marquess.

Stirred to admiration, Jam Graham, Marquess of Stormaston, watched her
trim figure making its hurried yet graceful retreat, a small, satisfied
smile on his fine lips.  Did she really believe that he had not
recognised her?  He had done so the moment her eyes had lifted and
widened in recognition.  No man could mistake those beautiful green
orbs in their nests of gold-tipped lashes, the elfin beauty of her
small face.  He had felt her allure all those years ago when she had
captured poor old Amber.  She had been out of bounds to him then, but
now... Now, Lady Alexia Hamilton was the Dowager Countess of Amber and
an unconventional countess, too, it seemed: a young.  woman of spirit
not given to swooning at the least thing.  He should have realised her
gallant, imprudent nature, given that he had watched her galloping
indecorously in Hyde Park, indifferent to the scandalised gaze of other
ladies of fashion who never went faster than a trot, and had seen her
driving her curricle about town, quite unescorted apart from a youthful
tiger up behind.

Amused, he had observed her as she fielded the attentions of half a
dozen eager suitors and an even greater number of gentlemen with more
dubious motives for their pursuit.  He had not joined the throng
surrounding her, preferring to watch and wait, to study the way she
coolly but charmingly held them all at bay, to attempt to discover the
chink in her armour.

He had done that today.  She liked to be free from constraint, would
take a risk, rise to a challenge.  Were they not the very reasons he
himself had left his grandmother and sister sitting in a window
overlooking the route, had decided against returning to his own window
overlooking St.  James's Street and had skirted the edge of the crowd
to discover what was going on at ground leval'v

Lady Amber had ventured into the midst of the crowd.  Even he had not
dared that much, dressed as he was in a superfine jacket, pantaloons
and shining beaver, until the sight of a young woman being molested had
drawn him deeper into the throng to attempt a rescue.  Jackson had told
him he possessed a useful bunch of fives; today he had proved it.

Absently, he rubbed his sore knuckles again, watching as Lady Amber
glanced over her shoulder before turning a corner.  Had he not known
where she lived he would have followed her to find out, as she no doubt
feared.  But he had discovered something else about the delectable
Countess.

That kiss, stolen more to punish her for her instant withdrawal, her
refusal to acknowledge their acquaintance--did she still hold him in
the disdain which had so diverted him all those years ago.V--had been a
revelation.  Lady Amber's cool looks and charm hid depths of passion he
had contrived to stir.  Her response had been instinctive,
untutored--what the devil had Amber been about all those years7--and
had shaken her as much as it had him.

He grinned to himself as she turned not into Berkeley Street but into
Clarges Street; and he began to cover the distance to the corner with
long, far from languid strides which quickly ate up the distance.  He
would follow her on her devious route anyway, keeping out of sight, to
make certain she met with no more trouble.

He now watched from the corner where Bruton

Street entered Berkeley Square, saw her descend the area steps of her
house and vowed that, before long, the Dowager Duchess of Amber would
become his new mistress.  Once, of course, he had dismissed Miss
Hermione Green, the pretty little actress who currently occupied the
discreet flat he owned in one of the less fashionable areas of
London.

When Lexie arrived back she took a last look over her shoulder before
descending the area steps but could still see no sign of Lord
Stormaston.  He did not appear to have followed her, for which she was
thankful.  She would never be able to face him again if she thought he
knew who she was.

She lost no time in going up to her room, passing by the door to the
small drawing-room where she had left Mrs.  Baldwin, on tip toe to
avoid being heard.  Cousin Cato was bound to notice the state she was
in, spot her torn fichu, and she felt in no condition to answer her
cousin's questions at the moment.  She was still trembling as a result
of the assault.  Stormaston's kiss could have nothing to do with her
state, for she was no green girl who had never been kissed before.

On the other hand, she had never been kissed quite like that before, in
a such a way as to lead her to kiss him back without meaning to.  She
blushed at what he must have thought.  No delicately brought up young
lady would have dreamed... But no delicately brought up young lady
would dream of doing half the things she did, she reminded herself. For
a start, they would never have defied convention by entering St.
James's Street, where so many gentlemen of the Town had rooms and where
no lady of repute would be seen driving, let alone walking unescorted
or masquerading as a servant in the midst of a crowd.

What was a kiss, after all?  No more than the rather intimate touching
of lips, which, on the rare occasions when a suitor had dared to kiss
her in the past, had meant nothing or had filled her with faint
distaste.  Amber's caresses had been fatherly, warm and affectionate,
rather than passionate.

Stormaston's kiss had roused new and untried feelings to swamp her mind
and body and render her weak and helpless while it lasted.  Even to
herself she could not deny that she had enjoyed the experience.  But it
was never likely to be repeated, thank heavens, for surely if it was he
would know it had been she whom he had rescued.

Though, on second thoughts, why should he?  All women were the same to
a man like him.  To him that kiss had been nothing more than a
momentary diversion.  She need not flatter herself that the effect for
him had been as shattering as it had been for her.

She roused herself enough to rise from the blue brocaded cover of her
four-poster bed on which she had sunk on entering the room, and crossed
to sit before the satinwood kneehole table that served for both
dressing and writing to look in its mirror.

She scrutinised her face carefully before deciding that, however much
she felt it must, her recent experience did not Show.  Even her lips,
which felt tender to the touch, showed no sign of excessive pressure:
they were always full and faintly pink.  But she could not sit
trembling and staring at herself for ever.  She must pull herself
together and-dress for dinner.

Luckily Chalker returned as she was attempting to divest herself of the
old gown.  "Oh, my lady," she panted, flinging off her bonnet and
rushing forward to help her mistress.  "I'm sorry to have been so long,
but the crowds were that thick!  There now, that's the last hook
undone.  Will you be taking a bath?  Shall I ring for hot water?"

"Yes, I need one."  A slight shudder passed through her as she
remembered her ordeal before Stomaston had come to her rescue.  Chalker
did not know how much she needed to rid herself of the feel of those
awful creatures who had molested her.  Only Cousin Caro knew she had
gone out into the streets alone, though Chalker had wondered at her
choosing to dress herself so dismally.  "Did you see the King and the
Czar?"

"Oh, yes, my lady!"

As Chalker undressed her, Lexie heard all about her maid's adventures,
which it seemed had been far less exciting than her own.  By the time
she had bathed, dressed, and descended to the drawing-room to await the
announcement of dinner, she was able to greet her cousin quite
naturally and give an entertaining if expurgated account of her
sighting of the King and the Czar.

"And no one recognised you?"  demanded Mrs.  Baldwin anxiously.

"No, Cousin, you need have no fears for my reputation!"  Lexie assured
her gaily.  "I would not have missed the experience for the world!"

Strangely enough, now she had completely recovered, that pronouncement
was true.

If she dreamed of strong arms and gentle, firm lips that night it was,
she assured herself next morning, much better than suffering a
nightmare involving her attackers.

CHAPTER TWO

NOT belonging to the most exalted ranks of the nobility, Lexie had not
received an invitation to the banquet at Carlton House the following
evening, given by the Regent in honour of the victorious allied
leaders.  Instead, she had attended a rout, a poor affair since all the
chief exemplars of the bon ton were necessarily absent.

At least, she had consoled herself, it saved her from the embarrassment
of meeting Lord Stormaston so soon after their encounter.  But she
would certainly have to endure the sight of him the next evening, at
his sister's coming-out ball at Downshire House.

His lordship's brother, Lord Hugo Graham, had been at the rout, but not
his sister Fanny.  Fanny, Lexie had surmised, could not venture out
into Society by herself and the Duchess, like the Marquess, would be at
Carlton House.  She culd have come with me, she had thought with a wry
smile, relishing the idea that, as a dowager, she would be considered a
suitable chaperon.

The esteem in which Lexie held Lord Hugo was considerably lower than
that in which she held the Marquess.  For all his gazetted wickedness,
Lord Stormaston had an engaging manner that his demean-our only served
to enhance.

Green young ladies, flattered and excited by any attention he showed
them, ignored as far as possible the admonitions of mamas and chaperons
who were forced to snatch their charges from his dubious company-for to
become embroiled with the Marquess of Stormaston would shred a girl's
reputation beyond repair.

The mamas would have taken Lord Hugo's attentions to their charges no
less seriously but, in fact, found no need to warn the young ladies
against him, for they held him in abhorrence.  For one thing, he was
possessed of neither title nor fortune but, crucially, he lacked his
brother's aristocratic address, his charm and the natural authority the
dangerous Marquess exercised with such ease.  He also lacked his looks
and taste, thought Lexie, dispassionately eyeing Hugo across the room
set aside for the younger set to dance.

One of a group of noisy, extravagantly apparelled young men whose
striped waistcoats dazzled the eye and whose extraordinarily high
collars prevented their turning their heads, Hugo had his hair brushed
up'd la Brutus and held a quizzing glass to his jaundiced eye while a
cynical smile sat uncomfortably on his rather plump features.

Like his face, his figure spoke of excessive indulgence in food and
wine, He had a name for attempting to outdo his brother's deplorable
reputation, whoring and gambling with reckless abandon.  Some went so
far as to brand him profligate and depraved.

Yet no one had ever considered Lord Stormaston either profligate or
depraved.  Disreputable, disgraceful, scandalous, but not depraved,
Despite his faults he was well-liked; besides, his ascetic features and
athletic build denied the truth of any real descent into depravity.

Whereas Stormaston's popularity could not be denied, his brother's was
doubtful even amongst his cronies.  They, it was rumoured, tolerated
Lord Hugo as a hanger-on rather than because they liked him.

Thank goodness she had no need to acknowledge him, thought Lexie, for
although she had recently exchanged cards and visits with his
grandmother and sister, he had not been present.  And unlike his elder
brother, he had not been in Town seven years ago when she had her
come-out.

Earl St.  Clare, an older admirer who was waiting to escort Lexie into
the concert room, followed her gaze and shook his head.  "Young fools,"
he grunted, "making such cakes of themselves.  There they go, confound
'era, can't think why they had to annoy us with their presence in the
first place.  Wouldn't receive "em my selL

"They are all scions of impeccably noble families," Lexie reminded the
widower drily.

"Should still be ostracised," grunted his lordship.  "Off to some
gambling hell, no doubt, where young Graham will attempt to restore his
fortunes."

"Does he play that deep?"  wondered Lexie.

"Pockets to let, last I heard.  Depend upon it, someone will have to
settle his debts and honour his vowels soon or the world will fall
about his ears."

"That badly fixed, eh??  murmured Lexie as they walked through to take
their seats in the music room.  "Surely he has an allowance and the
Duke would.  :.?"

"Don't want the Duke to know," she was informed.  "Scared of the old
fellow, I gather; besides, it's Stormaston he wants to annoy.  Storm
will have to settle his brother's debts if he wants to save the family
name from disgrace."

"I rather thought Lord Stormaston had done quite enough himself to
sully the name of Graham--'

"Not badly, never got into a scrape he couldn't get himself out of His
fortune is so vast--'

It was Lexie's turn to interrupt this time.  "That does, of course,
colour people's perceptions," she commented drily, "but gentlemen have
squandered larger fortunes."

"True, Lady Amber, but Storm never threatened to be such a half wit as
to do anything of the kind."  There was amused affection in his
lordship's voice as he ushered Lexie into a seat and sat in the one
beside her.  "A little wildness is to be expected in a young man who
escapes the bonds of tutor and trustees to find himself master of his
own destiny and possessions.  There never was any real harm in
Storm."

That had not been the impression Lexie had gained seven years ago.
However, since his lordship's own son, Felix, Viscount Dexter, was one
of Lord Stormaston's closest friends and every bit as much of a rake,
she declined to argue with her partner.  She merely remarked, "But why
should Lord Stormaston feel obliged to settle Lord Hugo's debts? Surely
it is for the Duke to rescue the family name?"

"Storm was made his guardian you see, until the boy reached his
majority."

"Not the Duke?"  queried Lexie, rather surprised.  "No.  Young as he
was at the time, Stormaston was named guardian to both his younger
siblings in his father's will.  The Marquess didn't expect to die while
his heir was so young, you see."

"But his son needed a guardian himself!"

"Had trustees instead.  The Duke and Duchess and a firm of solicitors.
They looked after it all, of course.  But once Stormaston reached his
majority, Lord Hugo became his problem.  Lady Fanny, too.  He has to
see her settled."

"I do not envy him," murmured Lexie.

The musicians struck up at that moment and, since the subject of the
conversation was no longer in view, Lord Hugo faded from Lexie's mind.
Thoughts of facing Lord Stormaston the next day she found more
difficult to banish.  To her increasing annoyance she found them
disrupting her enjoyment of the evening.

Lexie took great care over her appearance as she dressed for the
Downshire ball.  It seemed important that she should in no way resemble
the dowdy individual Lord Stormaston had rescued from the mob a couple
of days earlier.

Eschewing the pastel muslins fashionable amongst the hopeful young
ladies enjoying their come-out Season, she had chosen to wear a gown
made of jewel-like silk in a shade of emerald that enhanced the colour
of her eyes.  Over it floated a gauze of a lighter, softer green,
ruched and gathered at the hem and decorated with intricate pink and
silver embroidery.  The low neckline, similarly embroidered, revealed
the swell of her breasts, emphasised by the gathering-in of the high
waistline.  Long matching evening mittens reached above her elbows
towards tiny puff sleeves.  Diamonds set in filigree silver graced her
slender throat.

A circlet of pink silk flowers with silver leaves surrounded the soft,
smooth, fair knot arranged on the crown of her head.  The use of
curling-irons had coaxed the wisps of fine hair about her face into
becoming ringlets.  Lexie hoped they would retain their curl all the
evening but if they did not Chalker would be on hand to restore them.

Chalker put the finishing touches to the coiffure and stood back to
admire the effect.

"Thank you, Chalker," smiled Lexie.  "A touch more powder to cover my
freckles, perhaps.  That Gowland's lotion does not a scrap of good!"

"You should not have ventured out into the sun the other day without a
parasol," reprimanded Chalker with a smile as she dabbed a puff over
Lexie's nose and cheekbones.

"I wore a bonnet," grumbled Lexie.  "Thank you.  You had better bring
the powder and curling-irons with you.  I fear I may need both before
the evening is over."

She rose and went down to the small drawing-room where Cousin Caro
reclined in her favourite position on the chaise longue; draperies,
which suited her vague manner but not her plump figure, trailing to the
floor.

She held a piece of neglected needlework in lax fingers.  "Will I
do?"

Caro's several chins wobbled as she nodded approval.  "You look fit to
be a duchess!"  she declared.

"You prefer me looking this way?"  teased Lexie, remembering Cousin
Caro's criticism on that other occasion.

"It is as you should look, my dear Alexia.  You will be the belle of
the ball--'

"No," denied Lexie quickly, allowing a slight frown to mar the
perfection of her brow.  For a moment she wished she had not taken so
much trouble over her appearance.  "Lady Fanny must be that.  She is
such a sweet child."

And how did Lord Stormaston come to have such a delightful sister?  she
wondered rather sourly.  Fanny's excellent if rather unassuming looks
were understandable since she was very like him, but her character was
altogether more admirable.  She would never take advantage-But she
would not think of that.

Quelling her unruly thoughts and her consequent attack of nerves, "You
will be all right while I am gone?"  she asked her cousin.  "You could
have accompanied me, you know."

"I much prefer to remain here, my dear.  Maria Seacombe is coming round
once she is free.  We shall enjoy a comfortable ooze."

"And exchange all the latest scandal, if I am any judge!"  teased
Lexie.

Mrs.  Seacombe was in a similar position to Cousin Caro and the two
older ladies had become friends.  Neither hankered after the excitement
and glitter of the occasions which Lexie adored.  They would have found
full participation in the social round too exhausting.  Only
occasionally lid Caro encase her plump figure in a fashionable gown,
cover her greying hair with a pretty lace cap and take her place
amongst the matrons and chaperons to listen to a recital.

The butler knocked and entered to announce the arrival of the
carriage.

Lexie nodded.  "Thank you, Dymock.  I'll see you tomorrow," she said,
turning to Cato and planting a kiss on her round cheek.  "Not before
nuncheon, though!"

Dymock took her cloak from Chalker, who was waiting quietly nearby, and
Lexie allowed him to place it around her shoulders.  He then led them
downstairs and opened the front door for her himself, since the two
footmen were both on duty outside with the coach, dressed in the
impressive Amber livery of blue and silver, powdered wigs and all. They
escorted their mistress to her carriage.  Chalker, knowing her place,
hurried ahead to squeeze herself into the far corner.  One footman
helped I.xie to mount and removed the step, the other indicated to the
coachman that he could move off.  The groom released the horses" heads
and both he and the footmen quickly mounted the swaying vehicle as it
moved off.

Lady Amber was making a show that evening.  And Lady Amber knew that
she had taken extra trouble over her appearance and ordered the two
footmen in full fig and a groom as well as Jethro Pascoe, the coachman,
both wearing black topped by tall hats, to escort her, simply because
she wished to impress a certain marquess with the difference between
the shabby young woman he had rescued and the wealthy Dowager Countess
of Amber.  Not, she surmised, that he would see her arrive, he would be
to busy inside.  But he would be bound to hear the gossip.

She smiled up at Jethro as she descended from the conveyance at
Downshire House.  Jethro it was who had improved her riding skills and
taught her all she knew about driving a curricle.  He was, she
supposed, in his forties and had gladly left Cornwall to accompany her
to London.

"I shall probably be leaving at about two," she informed him.  "I'll be
waiting for your call, my lady," he assured her, with a dignified
inclination of his head.  But his eyes twinkled down at her as she
stood, illuminated by the last rays of the sun.  He was enjoying
himself in London, not least because his spirited young mistress was so
evidently blossoming into the great lady he had always considered
her.

In the busy receiving cloakroom Lexie greeted acquaintances while
Chalker removed her cloak, brushed a tiny speck of dust from her silver
sandal and tweaked a recalcitrant curl back into position.  The ball
would probably go on until dawn but she felt fresh and energetic.  She
anticipated an enjoyable evening and might stay even later than two. In
which case Jethro and the other servants had a long wait.  But they had
their own ways of passing the time.

By now Lexie was used to arriving at this kind of function alone.  It
did not concern her in the least; she had made no close friend as yet
and would rather that than join some party of acquaintances she would
feel obliged to remain with all the evening.  It left her free to
circulate, to sit with anyone she liked between dances.  She never
lacked for partners and usually became the centre of a throng of
gentlemen jostling for her attention.  Some considered her a flirt but
that did not concern her either.

Lexie was enjoying herself and knew she was not seriously breaking any
hearts.  Her success did, however, diminish her popularity with some of
the hopeful mamas and their charges.  Young men who should have been
offering for the young ladies" hands sighed instead over the undisputed
charms of the flighty Dowager Duchess of Amber.

Slowly, one step at a time, Lexie mounted the marble staircase, moving
beneath the glittering chandeliers towards those waiting to receive
her.  Like most others she had arrived neither early nor late and the
queue stretched before and behind her, which meant that the guests were
being passed quickly along the receiving line just inside the
ballroom.

It was ridiculous to feel so nervous.  Lord Stormaston would scarcely
look at her.  She wished he would not be there but he must be, since he
was Lady Fanny's guardian and standing in for his absent grandfather as
host.

She knew neither those above nor below her on the stairs and could not
therefore enter into conversation with either party.  But she had to
keep her mind occupied, so she studied the marble of the entrance hall
and staircase, the wine-coloured drapes, the gold fringes and tassels,
the paintings of august Downshire ancestors, which reminded her
uncomfortably of the present heir, and the brilliance of the huge
chandeliers.

All this splendour would be his one day.  Did he deserve such an
inheritance?  The indolent rake of salon, ballroom, card room and
gambling hell, in her opinion, did not.  Perhaps responsibility would
change him.

And then she remembered the strong, athletic, far from indolent
gentleman who had snatched her from the hands of two thugs in the
middle of what could have turned into a hostile crowd, and wondered.
That Lord Stormaston had been alert, resourceful, forceful, full of
vigour.  And, she reminded herself before she forgot, instinctively
touching with her folded fan lips which still remembered his kiss, just
as loathsomely rakish as his reputation had painted him.

That encounter had spoilt everything for her.  She had been enjoying
the Season so much.  Her come-out, apart from a natural
seventeen-year-old's enjoyment of parties and balls, had proved a
wretched experience, for the need to secure a husband had been hanging
like a threat over her head, with her mother nagging her unmercifully
and her father taking little interest in proceedings, just wanting her
off his hands with a favourable settlement.

And she had met no one really suitable, certainly no one who had
offered for her.  She had so hoped to fall in love!  Her parents, of
course, had scoffed at that idea and reminded her of her duty.  So she
had accepted Amber.

Dear Amber.  He had been the kindest of husbands yet she had never felt
able to call him Edward.  It would have been like calling her
father--even her grandfather--by their given names.

This time she was free to please herself, choose a husband or not.  Of
course, she had grown up in the interval and no longer cherished
romantic dreams about marriage, but she would rgot wed simply for the
sake of it again.  She had security, the will to enjoy life to the
full, the flattering attention of many admirers.  What more could she
want?

Affection, companionship, a family.  And why not love?  asked a
plaintive voice in her head.

She shook it impatiently.  Love!  Was it love that had made her tremble
when Stormaston had kissed her?  Certainly not!  That had been a purely
physical reaction over which she had had no control.  Lust, then?  She
had not believed herself capable of that.  Yet that single kiss had
stirred her in startling ways, ways the consummation of her marriage
never had.

And the memory of it made the thought of coming face to face with the
Marquess again unsettling to say the least.  For she could not be
absolutely sure he had not recognised her.  If he had, would he be base
enough to mention their encounter?  And, she thought ruefully, in
future there would be no escaping Lord Hugo, either.  Since he was
family they were bound to be introduced.

At last she approached the double doors opening into the ballroom.  Her
turn soon.  She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the throng milling
beneath yet more grand chandeliers, saw pale gauzes and butterfly
colours counterpointed by the darker garb of the gentlemen and
enlivened by more scarlet coats than she had ever seen gathered
together, except on a parade ground.

The presence of some green coats of the Rifles and blue of the Dragoons
confirmed that Wellington's battered but victorious army was already
returning from the Peninsula, although the newly created Duke had
himself still to arrive in London.

She was next in line.  She settled her gauze scarf more neatly across
her forearms, fidgeted with her fan, opened it and snapped it together
again.  Then she was curtsying before the Duchess who was regal in
purple silk despite her tiny size, though the feathers in her headdress
added a good foot to her height, and being greeted warmly, even kissed,
by a radiant Fanny floating in a cloud of white, and passing on to
curtsy formally' to a black-clad Lord Stormaston at his most top-lofty
and impressive.

He took her hand and bent over it.  Lexie had to know.  She looked up,
trying to catch any gleam of recognition in the blue depths of his
eyes.

There was none.  His lids drooped, almost obscuring them.  "Enchanted,
Lady Amber," he drawled.  "Delighted to renew our acquaintance ...
after so many years.  Recognised you immediately."

Lexie inclined her head, lowering her eyes quickly to prevent his
seeing the uncertainty in them.  Had he really hesitated?  Did his
words hold a double meaning?  "Thank you, my lord," she managed to say
without allowing her voice to quiver.

"Devilishly sorry to hear of your loss, don't you know."

"Everyone," said Lexie, "has been most kind."

"Must present my brother."  His lordship waved a limp hand towards a
stout figure resplendent in blue satin.  Since he could not turn his
head because of the height of his collar, Hugo turned from the waist,
his quizzing-glass before his eye.  "Lord Hugo Graham.  Hugo, may I
present Lady Amber.  We were introduced years ago--" he lifted a
negligent shoulder '--before you came to TOwn, my dear fellow, and
before she became a countess."

He was, if anything, more languid than ever.  Except that, with a speed
which denied his lazy air, while she and Hugo were making their
devoirs, he had taken her dance card from her nerveless fingers and
scribbled his name thereon, using the little pencil attached.

Hugo made an elaborate leg.  His plump, moist hand held hers while he
uttered some extravagant compliment to which Lexie made an abstracted
reply.

"Grandmama is becomin" quite risqud in her old

3'

age," Stormaston confided as he returned her property a slight smile
lifting one corner of lips whose touch hac had such a devastating
effect on her.  "Allowed a coupk of waltzes to be included, in honour
of the Czar, who is exceptionally fond of the dance.  You can waltz, i
collect?"  His voice held an intolerable undercurrent o: boredom as he
made the enquiry.

"Of course," said Lexie as haughtily as she kne, how, sweeping past
Hugo before the next in line t oc on her heels and he, too, demanded
her card and stok a dance.

Because the insufferable Marquess had stolen dance.  She would never
have agreed to stand up wit him had he afforded her the chance to
refuse.  Given five minutes in the ballroom she could have protested
her card to be full.  It probably would have ben, too.  Her hand was
shaking--with rage--as she looked down to see where he had written. And
then she nearly exploded.  He had claimed two dances, both waltzes! One
before supper and one much later, in the early hours.

He had never taken the slightest notice of her until tonight.  Had kept
his distance while even his friend Felix St.  Clare, Lord Dexter, had
often solicited her hand for a dance and spent its duration shamelessly
flirting with her, to her amused enjoyment.

Now, suddenly, he was making a spectacle of her.  People would begin to
talk, for to stand up twice with her, and both of the dances waltzes,
must suggest that he was paying her marked attention.  And marked
attention from the Marquess of Stormaston was undesirable to say the
least.  She must make her displeasure plain or she would quickly be
tarred with the same brush ashe!

Quietly seething, she greeted her usual court of admirers as they and
others gathered round to initial her card, keeping her smile bright and
her voice light, laughing and flirting as she always did, until one
youthfully persistent and disappointed suitor voiced his displeasure.

"Divine Lady Amber!  How can I bear it?  I was countin" on leading you
out for a waltz!  Storm don't usually dance with you at all, do he?"
protested the young man, who had not yet reached his majority, in a
rather less dramatic but more truculent tone.  "Doin" it because he's
host tonight, I collect, doin" the pretty by his guests.  But he
oughtn't to waltz with you twice!  I shall strike his second initial
out!"

"No!"  Quite why she stopped the Honourable Oswald Cresswell from
inserting his name instead of Stormaston's, Lexie could not have said.
To cover her impatient denial--for dancing with Oswald would be more of
a trial than with Stormaston and perhaps that was Why--she made a joke.
"He might take exception and call you out, and you know his reputation
with pistol and blade!"

Oswald paled.  He had forgotten the Marquess's superior rank, how high
in the instep he could be, how easily he climbed up on his high ropes
and, lastly, how much most men feared being called out by him.  Oswald
considered himself a poetic young man to whom violence was anathema.
Courage was not his long suit.

"Well..."  He hesitated.

"Put your name against this one," suggested Lexie pacifically.  Slender
and poetic Oswald might be, but he had clumsy feet and a country dance
with him as partner would be much more the thing.

Others were clamouring to claim her hand and Oswald reluctantly gave
in, muttering that he could not even claim the supper dance, either, as
he passed the card to a young Captain of Hussars.

As Lexie had anticipated, every dance on her card had been initialled
long before Lord Stormaston was able to relinquish his post at the
door.  As the orchestra struck up, he took his sister out to open the
ball.  Dancing with one's sibling was, of course, considered bad form
but when had the Marquess ever considered form?  In any case, since he
was standing in for their grandparent, all would be forgiven.

Lexie could not help but notice the easy grace with which he executed
the steps and bows of the m'nuet, the proud, fond smile he bestowed on
his sister as she curtsied.  Flushed and glowing with excitement,
Fanny's looks had improved out of all recognition.  Her latent
attractions had surfaced.  She was undoubtedly the belle of this
particular ball.

Not long after this a great stir ran around the ballroom and a cheer
went up from the younger members of the company.  The Czar himself had
arrived, together with the elderly Marshal Bl0cher.  Both men,
epaulettes and stars gleaming under the candles, were immediately
besieged.  Fanny's come-out had become a glittering occasion.

Although she danced and laughed and enjoyed herself, chatting with
friends between the dances, the prospect of her waltz with Lord
Stormaston hung heavily over Lexie's head.  As usual, his lordship's
social behaviour was impeccable--tonight he was the perfect host.  Lord
Hugo's loud-mouthed cronies, she noted, were not present.  He himself
had disappeared to the card room almost immediately.

Most of Stormaston's own friends, however, had been invited.  Despite
their high spirits and bouts of devilry, which they kept well away from
ball or drawing-room, they were welcome guests, gracing any assembly
with their exquisite presence and impeccable manners.

Although some had already repaired to the card tables, others remained
in the ballroom, Lord Dexter, among them, presumably to lend their
friend moral support in the doing of his duty.  Dexter had secured the
supper dance with her and she quite looked forward to it.  She found
him an entertaining, relaxing companion.  She liked Felix St.  Clare,
despite his dubious reputation, and had no qualms about dancing with
him.

For some reason she did not hold him in the same disgust as she had
always held Stormaston, perhaps because, being almost as young as
herself when first they had met seven year ago, his reputation had
still to be earned.  While Stormaston, enjoying his freedom after
reaching his majority a couple of years earlier, had already managed'
to make himself notorious and had therefore become a gentleman to be
shunned.

Dexter was dancing a cotillion with Fanny at the moment, Lexie noticed,
she blushing and confused but looking extraordinarily pretty.  It was
not unusual for the attentions of such men to cause green girls to
colour and simper, but Fanny must know Dexter, since he was her
brother's friend.  Although perhaps not.

Fanny had only recently come to town and Dexter had no reason to do
more than leave a card at Downshire House since Stormaston did not
reside there.  Lexie wondered, and wondered too whether the Duchess had
noticed Fanny's reaction to Lord Dexter's attentions and whether she
would be warned against him.

Thank goodness she was free of all the limiting restrictions by which
young girls were bound.  If Society thought the worse of her for
standing up twice with Lord Stormaston, and engaging with him in barely
respectable waltzes at that, so be it.  Any man she would even consider
marrying would account it of no consequence.  She would not refine over
it but enjoy the novelty of being partnered by a gazetted rake.  Her
pulses quickened with excitement as she prepared to meet the
challenge.

The only thing was that, although she had spoken the truth when
protesting that she could dance the waltz, it was not the whole truth.
She knew the steps, had practised them with a dancing master in her own
drawing room, but had never had occasion to use her skill in public,
for the waltz had only been introduced to English ballrooms the
previous year and was as yet seldom danced, except at Almack's under
the strictest of supervision.

Which reminded her that she had not yet received vouchers granting her
entry to those august assembly rooms.  She must make herself pleasant
to the patronesses, she thought, inclining her head and smiling sunnily
in the direction of Lady Jersey and Lady Castlereagh, sitting together
watching the dancing.  Although no doubt it had been Stormaston's idea
to

include waltzes in the programme, the Duchess had acquiesced, risking
the censure of more conservative elements in Society.  But then, a
duchess of Lady Downshire's standin.  g could afford to.

And Stormaston intended to dance both waltzes with her.  Why?

He must surely have recognised her.  Well, he said he had, but from
years ago.  Something had brought about the change in his attitude.

"Thought it about time I ousted that bunch of young sap skulls and
fortune hunters who have been throwin" themselves at your feet these
last weeks," he informed her as he led her out on the floor.  "Your
reputation to think of, y'know."

Lexie's pulses beat even faster.  So he had noticed her, despite his
keeping his distance, and had offered an explanation for his sudden
attention.

"You account it a kindness to dance with me, my lord?"  she demanded
sweetly.  "Others might think that to partner your lordship--twice--and
in the waltz--posed a greater threat to my reputation."

She thought his lips twitched.  She could not see his eyes, hidden as
they were 15eneath those drooping lids.  Like so many men, he possessed
enviably dark, sweeping eyelashes.

"But you don't care a fig for your reputation," he drawled as he placed
a hand on her waist and with the other took hold of one of hers, much
to Lexie's hidden agitation.  "Do you Lady Amber?"

"Of course I do!  Every female must!"  Her breathlessness was caused
entirely by indignation, Lexie knew.  It was uncomfortable, just the
same, since the music had begun and she had been forced to place her
hand on his arm as he swung her into the fast, spinning steps of the
waltz.  She needed to concentrate on them but could not.  He was far
too near, although he held their bodies the correct foot apart.

"No lady can afford to lose her reputation!"  she asserted firmly.
"That is what is so unfair!  A man can do what he likes--well, almost,"
she amended as his lordship lifted a sardonic brow.  "Anything short of
being caught cheating, anyway--without being cold-shouldered by
Society, but a lady-Well!"

"As you say.  "Well!"" he mimicked, his face straight, his eyes now
regarding her in just the way they had in Piccadilly.  "They would be
ostracised.  But only should they be discovered in their unconventional
behaviour.  Believe me, my lady," he whispered in her ear, having bent
his head forward the better to do so, "there are many ladies present
tonight whose private lives would not bear close scrutiny."

Lexie stumbled over his feet.  The import of his words, the innuendo
behind them, had not been lost on her.  Recovering from the shock, she
struggled to take up the steps once more.  He, of course, was as
accomplished in the waltz as in everything else he did and thanks to
his expertise and strong lead she had been managing fairly well until
momentarily stupefied by what he had said.

Having recovered herself, she glanced up to find his blue eyes watching
her confusion with amusement.  She glimpsed again the vital, charming
gentleman who had rescued and teased her in Piccadilly.

And because the memory brought a rush of pleasure, "I have no desire to
engage in scandalmongering she informed him tartly.  "Your own
disreputable behaviour is no secret, my lord.  No doubt you are
responsible for the dubious if hidden reputation of the ladies of whom
you speak--'

"You flatter me, ma'am," he murmured, whisking her round a corner and
twirling and dipping to the strains of the Viennese waltz with the
utmost aplomb.  "My tally of conquests is considerably exaggerated.
Felix, now--" he glanced across to where his friend was dancing with
Fanny again "--has made far more conquests in his shorter life than I
in mine."

"You keep tallies, my lord?"  Lexie made her tone honey-sweet.  "No
lady, I collect, would be flattered to discover herself upon such a
list.  Most would assiduously avoid the likelihood of such a fate, were
it known."

He chuckled, deep in his throat.  A sound which had a strange effect
upon Lexi 's nerves.  A challenge had been thrown down and accepted.
"We keep no tally, my lady.  Our secrets are our own.  But one knows
one's friends--'

"And discusses one's conquests," uttered Lexie in deepest disgust.

"Do the ladies not boast of theirs?"  he enquired, all innocence.

Lexie blushed.  Of course they did, but it wasn't the same thing at
all!  The ladies only crowed over the number of offers they had
received, not... "Ladies do not indulge in seduction!"  she declared
indignantly.

"No?"  he purred, remembering a certain matron who had initiated him,
at an early age, into the mysteries and pleasures of sexual adventures.
"You allow your inexperience to show, my dear Lady Amber."

Lexie compressed her lips and refused to be drawn further.  But she
knew that a battle of wills had been joined.

He had determined to make her his mistress.  He hadn't said so, but she
knew it.  She suspected that the languid, rakish air he wore when he
was not rescuing damsels in distress was probably a mask behind which
he hid a more dynamic personality.  It was fashionable to appear bored.
Perhaps he was.  Perhaps that was why--but if so, why did he remain in
Society?

Oh, it was of no use trying to decipher the Marquess of Stormaston's
motives!  But if she ignored his notable excesses--of which he could
probably be cured if she could discover the reason for them--she had to
admit that he was, in other respects, a man she could tolerate as a
husband.  Well born, educated, rich and--she almost blushed at the
thought--exciting.

At least, in the absence of any other, he would make a stimulating
target at which to aim!  The Season promised to become excessively
entertaining.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER the waltz Lexie retired to the room where Chalker waited, ready
to fuss over her appearance.  A fresh dusting of powder on her nose, a
quick twirl of her curls with irons kept hot in the brazier for the
purpose, and Lexie was ready to face her partner for the next set.  She
had not particularly needed Chalker's attention but while her maid
worked Lexie had time to recover her composure and plan her next
move.

He had, for some reason, decided to seduce her.  She had to admit that
being pursued by Lord Stormaston was, if nothing else, enlivening. Upon
consideration, she decided that she would not set him down.  He was,
after all, a very rich, personable gentleman.

At seventeen she had not looked beyond his disreputable reputation.  At
four and twenty, older and wiser, she felt able to form her own
judgement.  A rich, young, apparently desirable widow, she had an alibi
for behaving with less regard for convention than the young virgins on
the marriage market.

After all, she had become slightly notorious herself for no good reason
that she could see, and so had begun to doubt Society's verdicts.  Its
rules imposed a strait-jacket no spirited young man or woman could help
but rebel against.  Young gentlemen were forgiven the sowing of a few
wild oats but... She surprised in herself a sudden fellow-feeling for
the Marquess.  Did his additional sowing of poppies and thistles mask a
greater degree of rebellion?  It would be pleasing to discover what
did, even now, make him indulge in undoubtedly scandalous behaviour.
And since Society accepted him, how could it possibly ostracise her
simply for enjoying his companionship while in company?

When she danced with him again she would, she decided, seek to engage
rather more than his passing fancy.  She had to charm and intrigue him
into wanting to know her rather than simply her body.  Friendship was,
after all, the best basis for marriage.  And if he thought her
agreeable to anything less, he had a surprise in store.

Restored in appearance and mind, Lexie returned to the ballroom to find
the young Hussar waiting anxiously to lead her into the next set.

Supper was two dances away when a stir at the.  door announced the
arrival of the Prince Regent and his party.  The Duchess, the Marquess
and Lady Fanny immediately went to greet their royal guest.  The honour
of His Royal Highness's presence set the seal on the success on Fanny's
coming-out ball.

Everyone swept bows and curtsies as, with the Marchioness of"
Hertford--for whom he had abandoned his morganatic wife Mrs.
Fitzherbert and his former mistress Lady Jersey--on his arm, the Prince
Regent wad died his portly figure the length of the ballroom.  Despite
the grotesque figure he cut, Lexie could not, as usual, help feeling
sorry for him when she remembered his spoilt life.

However much he might imagine otherwise, had he been allowed to lead
his army, he would have been quite out of place on campaign, let alone
on a battle "E OUT^C;EOtS DOW^C;

field.  She simply could not envisage a man who had always so enjoyed
his food and drink and who, reputedly, never rose before noon and then
took hours to dress, being at home on some scorching plain or frozen
hill top sharing the discomforts of his men.  And, she thought,
suppressing a chuckle, re-designing every uniform in sight!

Stormaston, though, the attentive host strolling by the Prince's side,
would have made a fine officer.  The uniform would have shown off his
physique admirably and she wondered fleetingly why he had not chosen to
escape the confines of English Society by purchasing a pair of colours
and following the drum despite his lofty expectations.

Lord Dexter came to claim her hand for the supper dance.  He was, she
thought, as they executed the steps of the cotillion, rather
abstracted.  He scarcely attempted to flirt with her at all.  But he
would be bound to ask her to allow him to escort her to supper and she
prayed he would not prove to be dull company tonight.  He had been all
attention while partnering Lady Fanny.

A sudden suspicion made her remark, "Lady Fanny looks charming tonight,
does she not?"  when the steps of the dance allowed.

His brown eyes lit up, serving to confirm her notion.  "Indeed she
does, Lady Alexia."

Lexie had let it be known among those she considered her friends that
she would not object to returning to the form of address which had been
hers before her marriage.  Lord Dexter had quickly asked permission to
address her so.

"The Duchess is such a stern chaperon," he went on,

'that I had not spoken to her before tonight."

"Did not Lord Stormaston introduce you?"

Dexter grimaced.  "He is as jealous of his sister's reputation as any
matron.  I do not believe he considers me fit company for so innocent a
young lady."

"He," said Lexie with asperity, "should be the last to criticise or
condemn!  Does he not lead you and others in the paths of iniquity?"

The music stopped and Felix offered her his arm.  "Shall we proceed to
supper?"  She nodded and placed her hand under his elbow.  As they trod
through to the supper-room, he continued with the interrupted
conversation.  "Indeed, he does lead his friends, and because of that
he unfortunately knows all our faults and misdeeds!  There is no
cozening Storm!  He himself will not deal with the young beauties
brought t the marriage market."

"Yet one day you will all need to wed."

"Ah!"  He looked down at her, a wry smile on his lips.  He was not as
attractive as the Marquess, she considered, yet his features were
regular and pleasant, his eyes a warm brown, and his face held a
certain strength which those of many of his contemporaries lacked.  No
wonder his attention had flustered Fanny.  "But even the worst of rakes
may reform!"

"Ah, but persuading a prospective bride and her family of such an
excellent intention may prove difficult," teased Lexie, smiling back.

"Would you believe me, dear Lady Alexia?"  he asked, and there was more
than a hint of seriousness in his voice.

Lexie studied his face for a moment and then nodded.  "I think I would.
But you would have to prove it by exhibiting reformed behaviour, my
lord?

Before they had time for more, a familiar voice hailed them.

"Felix!  Join our party, will you?"

The Prince Regent was circulating prior to taking his leave.  He had
other functions to attend that evening and had not been expected to
remain long at Downshire House.

"As host I must wait upon His Royal Highness's departure," explained
the Marquess.  "I'll be back in a moment.  Fetch supper for
Grandmother, there's a good fellow."

"Delighted," murmured Felix, his eyes immediately seeking out Fanny,
who, absurdly, had been escorted in by Oswald Cresswell.

How that young gentleman had managed to obtain the supper dance with
the person in whose honour the ball was being held Lexie could not
imagine.  Except that it suddenly dawned upon her that Oswald's father,
a viscount, was heir to an earldom and a vast fortune which would one
day c9me to Oswald.  Did the Duchess--even the Marquess--consider him a
suitable match?

Fanny leapt upon the arrival of Lexie and Felix with obvious relief.
Lexie sympathised.  Oswald was not the most enlivening of companions
for all his expectations.

"Lady Alexia?  she cried, blushing prettily.  "How delightful that you
are able to join us!  And Lord Dexter, too!"

Felix bowed to the Duchess, who twinkled at her grandson's friend over
her fluttering fan.

"Fetch me a glass of wine and something substantial to eat, Dexter.
Otherwise I vow I shall swoon for lack of nourishment!  I feel that I
have not eaten this age, despite the banquet last evening.  I declare,
at my age I find two such occasions coming so close together quite
exhausting."

She sank back, fanning herself vigorously.

"At your age, ma'am?"  smiled Felix.  "I vow you look not a day over
thirty."

"Away with your flummery, sir!  I am over seventy and sometimes I feel
it!  Bring me that refreshment immediately!"

Felix grinned.  He clearly knew the Duchess rather well.  "And for you
too, Lady Fanny?"  he enquired.

"I shall fetch Lady Fanny's supper," insisted.  Oswald not to be set
aside even for Lord Dexter.

"Please, do not come to cuffs over me," pleaded Fanny rather
breathlessly.  "I require little to eat.  and lemonade to drink.
Between you, you should be able" to manage to bring enough for all of
us."

"Storm can look after himself," declared Felix.  "But you, Lady Alexia,
what may I bring for you?"

Lexie asked for an ice cream and a glass of lemonade, though in truth
she would have preferred wine.  But to ask for it would only serve to
add more shot to the gossips" armoury and she felt they had quite
enough already.

As the gentlemen disappeared, Felix heading the slighter Oswald by at
least six inches, Lexie asked the Duchess if the previous evening had
been a success.

"The Regent put on a magnificent show, splendid food and wine, all his
gold plate on the table, thousands of candles, he himself the most
affable host, but conversation was petrified.  No one knew enough
languages, y'see.  Then afterwards, the stupid fellow insisted on
introducing his mistress to the Czar."  "Lady Hertford?"  prompted
Lexie.

"Aye, the ageing grandmother just departin" our door over whom the fool
swoons like a love-sick youth!  Alexander nodded, but refused to speak
to the woman.  She curtsied and withdrew in the haughtiest manner.

The evenin" was doomed from that moment on."  "How unfortunate,"
murmured Lexie.

Before she could probe further into the previous evening's disasters
someone else engaged the Duchess in conversation.

Fanny remarked, "It is such a pity we did not know of the Regent's
banquet until long after the date for my ball was fixed, but I do hope
you are enjoying it.  Do you think it a success?"

"Undoubtedly," responded Lexie.  "What more could you wish for, having
received both the Czar's and the Regent's blessings on the occasion?
Not only is the ball a success but you have taken in Society, believe
me.  You are looking so charming tonight that it is small wonder the
gentlemen are falling over themselves to serve you!"

"Do you think so?"  Fanny fluttered her fan to hide her nervous
agitation.  "I know I do not normally impress gentlemen, not as you do,
dear Lady Alexia."

"Only because you needed to gain in self-confidence.  If you do not
possess it after tonight, then I hold out no hope for you?

Fanny laughed, as she was meant to.  "You do me so much good, Lady
Alexia, I wish we had met before!  I must admit I have never felt so
confident in my appearance.  Do you not admire my gown?"

At this point the Duchess rejoined their conversation and, having heard
Fanny's question, "I should hope she does!"  she declared.  "After all
the trouble Madame Aristide went to to design and make it exactly
right!"

"Indeed, Your Grace, Madame Aristide has excelled herself," confirmed
Lexie.  "White was exactly the colour to throw up Lady Fanny's
excellent complexion and the darkness of her hair."

"I feel a little like a snow queen," muttered Fanny, still not
absolutely certain of the rightness of the choice, having held a
preference for pink her selL

"And what is wrong with that, eh?"  demanded her grandmother, nodding
her plumes.  "Pity there ain't any eligible princes about to make a
real queen of you one day!"

"There are the young Prussian princes," murmured Lexie naughtily.

The Duchess snorted, her eyes twinkling, but before she could reply
their refreshments arrived and in the confusion of sorting out plates
and glasses and then sampling what the gentlemen had brought, the
conversation died.

Before long Lord Stormaston rejoined them, apparently eating nothing
but carrying a glass of claret.

The Duchess bestowed a fond smile upon her grandson.

"The Regent has departed, James?"

"He has," Stormaston confirmed, taking the chair between Lexie and
Fanny which Oswald had just vacated in order to fetch another glass of
lemonade for Fanny.  "Sent his congratulations on a splendid
evenin'."

He turned his lazy smile on Lexie, who felt quite hemmed in by
gentlemen of dubious reputation and great charm but rose to the
occasion by exhibiting her not inconsiderable wit and fascination,
directing the latter at Lord Dexter until she caught Fanny's hurt eyes
fixed upon her.

She did not imagine that Fanny's tend're for Felix St.  Clare would
last, but had no desire to be accused of entering into competition for
his fay ours so she turned most of her attention to Stormaston instead.
After all, he was the one she wanted to ensnare and he did not seem in
the least averse to being enchanted.

On his return with Fanny's refreshment Oswald scowled as he seated
himself between Felix and the Duchess instead of Fanny and Lexie. Lexie
could tell he was considerably put out: first Stormaston had stolen
both the waltzes and now he had had the gall to take his seat!

"How is your mama?"  the Duchess demanded of him.  "A great pity she is
indisposed and unable to come tonight, is it not Fanny?"  she said,
turning to the girl, who was seated on her other, r side.

Fanny murmured, "Indeed it is, Grandmama."

"And your father, of course, never appears in Society."

Oswald flushed, an embarrassment to which he was prone.  "M-mama sent
her most s-sincere r-regrets, Your Grace.  She has ate something"
disagreeable, I f-fear."

"Pity.  I would have enjoyed a coze with her.  Tell her so, young
man."

"C-certainly, Your Grace."  Oswald inclined his head in acquiescence.

Poor Oswald The Duchess's attention had reduced him to a stuttering
idiot, thought Lexie compassionately seeing the despairing look he sent
across the Duchess to Fanny, who gave the faintest of shrugs in
return.

Lexie became convinced that the Duchess did have hopes of a match
between the young people.  But she was too engaged in parrying the
attentions of both Dexter and Stormaston to give the matter much heed.
Fanny, she felt certain, would not be forced into a match which was not
to her liking.  Meanwhile the Marquess, despite his grandmother's close
presence, was passing the most audacious remarks.

"Ice cream and lemonade do not suit your temperament, my lady," he
murmured.  "They are not for one so full of fire and spirit."

Lexie fluttered her fan and batted her eyelashes.  Her heart had begun
to thud in earnest.  Would he admit that he knew they had met before?
"But how can you judge, my lord, after so short an acquaintance?"

"Ah!"  His smile ravished her and she felt the heat begin to mount in
her veins.  If only the ice cream were capable of quenching it!  "I can
read it in your lovely green eyes, my dear," he murmured.  Felix had
leant forward to speak to Fanny.  No one could hear what they said
above the general hubbub.  "They dance and sparkle, but in their depths
I see promise--'

"Promise?"  How she kept her voice cool and teasing Lexie did not know.
But she must play her part in this charade.  "You mistake, my lord.  I
promise nothing."

"Do you not, Lady Amber?  I wonder."  And as he held her chair for her
to rise, the Marquess drawled, "Until our next dance, Lady Alexia."

The caressing tone of his voice, the wicked look in his eyes, warned
her that he indeed thought her manner an indication that she was
acquiescing to his seduction.  She smiled back, flirting her fan as she
did

SO.

"I cannot wait, my lord," she murmured, adding silently to herself, "To
return home."  For at that moment she changed her mind.  She would
plead a headache and leave before she was forced into the Marquess's
arms again.  She feared that too much of such intimate contact with
Lord Stormaston might test her resolution beyond its limits.

Lexie was not afraid of him, but of his strange effect upon her senses.
She had never known its like.  Merely sitting next to him was almost a
torture.  She felt so drawn to him that if she was to achieve her end
at the expense of his, she must keep him at arm's length meanwhile.

She danced as spiritedly as ever during the next hour or two, a little
knot of excitement gathering in the pit of her stomach as she thought
of the battle to come, a mere glimpse of Stormaston across the room
sending her pulses leaping.  But as the time of the waltz approached
she sent a footman to fetch Chalker and another to call Jethro, and
made her adieus to the Duchess and Fanny.  Luckily his lordship was
occupied elsewhere, entertaining the Czar.

"Dear Lady Alexia, are you not feeling well?"  asked Fanny.  "Or is it
that you find the ball tedious after all!"

"I do not find your ball remotely tedious, Lady Fanny, it is the most
famous occasion I have yet attended.  But I must confess to having
developed a most lowering headache," Lexie went on, crossing her
fingers behind her fluttering fan.  "The heat, I think, and the
excitement..."

"You will call upon us," instructed the Duchess imperiously, setting
the seal on Lexie's acceptance into Society despite any scandal
circulating, and even after watching her flirt with Dexter and her
grandson.  The words were accompanied with a gracious smile.
Stormaston had inherited her eyes, recognised Lexie, and much of her
aristocratic looks and manner.  Fanny had most of the looks but had not
yet developed the manner.  Perhaps she never would.

Fanny excused herself as her next partner came to claim her hand for a
dance.  The Duchess watched her granddaughter's retreating back as she
went on, "We shall be at home on Monday, but no doubt we may meet you
before that, in the park on Sunday.  I believe all the visiting
dignitaries intend to join us in.  our normal parade."

"Indeed, Your Grace, I shall be there as usual.  And I shall be
delighted to call on Monday."

"Good.  And I will send you an invitation to my drum early in July,
when I hope the Duke of Wellington will be in London and able to honour
us with his presence."

"I should be thrilled to meet the Duke, Your Grace," murmured Lexie,
curtsying respectfully.  "I should like that above everything."

The Duchess nodded.  "This promises to be a gala summer.  You'll be
good for Fanny.  She needs bringing out.  I wish you a speedy recovery,
Lady Amber."

"Your Grace is very kind."  This was not the moment to suffer from
either surprise or guilt.  Lexie looked up into the eyes which reminded
her so much of those others and said, "Please convey my apologies to
Lord

Stormaston.  I fear that I really could not endure long enough to dance
with him again.  As for my other partners-- "

"They will soon find others to take your place, though perhaps not ones
so pleasing to them as you would be.  James was to dance with "ee
again, eh?  Serve the young reprobate fight to be stood up for once."

The elderly woman's eyes were twinkling again.  Lexie suspected that
the Duchess was not deceived by her excuse to leave yet, staggeringly,
seemed not to think any the worse of her for refusing to fall in with
her grandson's whim, and had actually indicated that she approved of a
friendship between her and Fanny.  Lexie could scarcely credit her good
fortune.

As the carriage trundled the short distance back to Bruton Street she
mused on that first waltz with the Marquess and found herself
regretting the loss of the second.  Half asleep, she was dreaming of
twirling in Stormaston's arms as the footman opened the door and pulled
out the step.  Perhaps it was as well the dream had been interrupted,
she thought wryly, as she mounted the stairs to her bedroom.  Dreams
had a tendency to wander into forbidden realms.

Cato would be in bed, thank goodness.  By morning she would "be calm
enough to give her cousin a composed and edited account of the ball.

This she did over a late breakfast.  Caro chuckled over her description
of poor Oswald's frustrations and discomfort, poured herself another
cup of chocolate and spread thick butter on a slice of fresh white
bread.

"I met the Duchess once," she remembered.  "Before poor Mr.  Baldwin
died."  For a moment she faltered, the ready tears springing to her
eyes, but then she pulled herself together and went on, though her
voice quivered rather more than usual.  "Astonishing woman.  Can put
the fear of the Lord into better gentlemen than Mr.  Cresswell if she
has a mind.  High in the instep, sets a person down without mercy if
needs be, yet can be as charming as you like.  I collect she has taken
to you, Cousin."

"Perhaps."  Lexie was at a loss to know quite why the Duchess had been
so gracious to her.  There were, after all, many other young matrons
she could have chosen to favour on Fanny's behalf.  Possibly Fanny
herself had had something to do with it, having shown such a frank
willingness to treat her as a friend.  But however it had come about,
it seemed she was destined to become intimate with the Marquess's
sister.  She sipped her chocolate thoughtfully.

"I think she would like Oswald and Fanny to make a match of it.  But
Oswald fancies himself in love with me and Fanny with Lord Dexter."

"Young people these days!"  sighed Cato.  "In my day one wed the person
one's parents or guardians chose without giving anyone else a
thought."

"In my day, too," said Lexie wryly.  Though not entirely without silent
mutiny.

Breakfast was scarcely finished when a footman announced the arrival of
the Marquess of Stormaston, who trusted that her ladyship was at
home.

Lexie swallowed, tempted to say she was still indisposed or not at
home.  But she had to face his lordship sooner or later.

"Show him into the morning-room.  Inform his lordship that I shall join
him directly."

She had donned a small cap that morning rather than have her hair
dressed in a more elaborate style, intending to spend the morning
writing letters.  But her blue sprigged muslin gown looked well enough
and the cap quite becoming.

"Fancy Lord Stormaston calling!"  exclaimed Cousin Caro breathlessly.
"Whatever can have brought him here?"

Lexie had most carefully omitted all allusion to the Marquess from her
adventures on the day the Allied Sovereigns had arrived, and done no
more than casually mention his name in the list of gentlemen with whom
she had danced the previous evening.  Displaying an insouciance she was
far from feeling, she turned from the mirror.

"I cannot imagine," she retorted.  "Come, Cousin.  I am certain you
will wish to meet his lordship and I would prefer not to entertain him
alone.  His reputation runs before him."

"Well, if you think so..  "You do not usually require my presence..."

"But this morning I do.  You have no objection, I trust?"

"No, none!  You are showing just that discretion I have been advising."
Caro rose to her feet, tweaked her skirts into place and carefully
arranged a silk scarf with a long gold fringe about her shoulders. "But
all the same, it is unlike you to require a chaperon.  Did you take him
in dislike when you danced with him?"

"Oh no, but I would not trust his lordship a foot further than I could
throw him.  He regards widows as fair game, I collect."

"Yet you will receive him?"  cried Cato, aghast.

"Why not?  Others do, and he cannot harm me while you are present.  And
he has most engaging manners.  You will enjoy meeting him and find him
quite charming, I am assured."

Caro shot her cousin a shrewd glance, for Lexie had been unable to
prevent a thread of excitement from entering her voice.  He had called!
To what end?  She had not expected him to make his next.  move quite so
soon.

Half a head taller than her companion, slender and exquisite, Lady
Amber--Alexia--entered the morning-room slightly ahead of a much older
woman of plump and flushed appearance, who tugged nervously at a length
of fringed silk trailing from her shoulders rather than look him in the
face.

To the Marquess, rising courteously to make his devoirs, the other
woman might not have existed.  He wished she did not.  Did Alexia
consider him a fool, to be taken in by her evasions?

He had hoped to have a private exchange with Alexia--he savoured the
sound of her name in his mind--for beneath the languid air which he
donned like a cloak whenever he wished--although his wild days were
long over it suited him to cherish the reputation they had earned
him--lay a prodigious volume of annoyance, made the more bitter because
she appeared to be in the full bloom of her health this morning.  And
quite irresistibly desirable.

"Ladies."  He made his bow and suffered the introduction to Mrs.
Charles Baldwin, Lady Amber's late husband's cousin, Caroline.  He
wished the faintly ineffectual and disapproving Cousin Caroline to the
devil.  However, the knowledge that Alexia felt she needed a buffer
between them gave him an odd feeling of satisfaction.  He had not been
wrong.  Mutual desire did exist.  Why else should she fear being alone
with him?

And why else had she fled the ball before their second waltz?  Memory
of his sharp sense of loss and frustration on discovering her defection
brought back the full force of his anger.

The ladies sat on a settee and he subsided back into the small, rather
uncomfortable armchair from which he had risen.

"I trust you are quite recovered from your ... indisposition, Lady
Amber?"  he enquired.  "You appear to be in splendid health this
morning, what?"

Beneath the drawl Lexie detected the cutting edge in his voice and
under his usual exquisitely lazy manner she sensed suppressed anger. He
had disliked her leaving the ball before their waltz, then.  She had,
of course, known that he would.

"I am completely recovered, I thank you," she returned, smiling,
sitting quite at her ease.  Caro was looking at her in an odd manner.
Lexie had not told her cousin that she had left the ball pleading a
headache.  At the time it had seemed no more necessary than mentioning
the Marquess other than in passing.  But Cato, for all her distraite
manner, was no fool.  Lexie could foresee a need for uncomfortable
explanations later.  "It is kind of you to trouble to enquire."

"Not at all."  He waved aside any thought of thanks.

"I promised my grandmother and sister that I would call since they
could not.  They will be relieved to hear that you have made such a
remarkably swift recovery."

The anger was still there.  Lexie doubted whether his explanation
represented the full truth of the matter even if the Duchess and Fanny
did know he intended to call.  He had come because he wanted to set her
down, but Caro's presence had foiled his intentions.

"It was only a headache, my lord, brought on by the heat and the stuffy
atmosphere, I collect.  The chandeliers give a brilliant light but the
burning candles only add to the heat and their smoke combines with the
presence of so many people engaged in energetic exercise to make the
air thick.  Once outside my headache soon evaporated."

"Had I known, it would have given me great pleasure to escort you to
the terrace for air," purred his lordship.  "You had only to wait a few
more moments for our waltz."

"I had no wish to rob your lordship of the enjoyment of the dance,"
said Lexie ingenuously, her hands folded demurely in her lap.  "You
waltz so exquisitely and with such enthusiasm, while I am but an
indifferent performer."

"Did your lessons not serve, my love?"  murmured Caro, glancing
furtively from one to the other.

"Lady Amber has no need to fear lack of expertise, ma'am.  She has the
steps perfectly."

Lexie shot Cato a repressive glance.  "But the concentration required
of me quite spoils my enjoyment at present.  When I left you were
engaged in conversation with the Czar.  I did not feel it necessary to
interrupt."

Storm inclined his head.  She was clever, but she should not escape
him. "Since you appreciate fresh air, will you ride with me round the
Ring in Hyde Park on Sunday afternoon?  you would, perhaps, feel safer
in the crush which is boo nd to prevail since our victorious guests are
to show themselves, if you are accompanied by someone capable of
defending your person."

Wretched man!  Reminding her of that other time again!  Yet still not
admitting that he had recognised her!  One day she would find the
moment to challenge him on the point.  But not now.

"I regret, my lord, that I shall be unable to do so.  I have already
agreed to drive Cousin Caro so that she may catch a glimpse of the
Sovereigns and our other important visitors," lied Lexie.

Storm saw the startled and then agonised expression on Mrs.  Baldwin's
face and smiled.

"If that is indeed Mrs.  Baldwin's wish then I shall be delighted to
drive you both in my landau.  The crush is bound to be considerable but
I shall take every care to avoid disaster."

Caro opened and closeO her mouth but no sound came.  She did, however,
manage to clutch at Lexie's arm.

Lexie closed her eyes for an instant.  How could she be so cruel?  She
knew perfectly well how much Caro feared crowds and crushes.  Cato
would never bring herself to set foot in a carriage destined to take
part in such an outing.  And Stormaston, the rogue, was playing upon
Caro's undisguised fears.

"You dislike the idea of such an expedition?"  he enquired
solicitously.  "If so, and will entrust your charge to my care, I
guarantee to return her to you perfectly safe.  I am certain that Lady
Amber would scorn to miss the occasion."

"I shall accompany her, of course," began Cato faintly, finding her
voice at last and screwing up her courage only to be interrupted by a
furious Lexie.

"I am not in Cousin Caro's charge," she gritted.

"No, my love," murmured Cato, "but I do pray you not to venture out
alone as you--'

Lexie cut her off sharply.  She wanted no references to previous
occasions!  "I should be perfectly safe, I assure you, but if it would
calm your mind, Cousin, then I will agree to ride with Lord
Stormaston."

Storm stood up and bowed, his mission accomplished.  "We could drive
should you prefer--" he began.

But Lexie was in no mood to vacillate.  "You asked me to ride, my lord,
no doubt having already ascertained my preference in the matter.  I am
happy to accept your escort."

"Then I shall wait upon you on Sunday, Lady Amber."

Lexie remembered that she wished to charm the man into matrimony.  She
smiled her most bewitching smile.

"I shall look forward to it."

"And will not, I trust, suffer from another indisposition?"

"I am normally extremely healthy, my lord."

"That is what I thought:'

CHAPTER FOUR

STORM ASTON took his leave.  A relieved Mrs.  Baldwin eyed her young
cousin suspiciously.

"I did not realise you were so well acquainted with his lordship,
Alexia.  You will take care, will you not?  His reputation..."

"Is perfectly well known to me, Cousin.  I am no foolish chit, I am
entirely aware of what I am doing.  Simply because I engage to ride
with his lordship does not mean that I intend to succumb to his
blandishments."

"I should hope not?  cried Caro faintly.  "Alexia my dear, you cannot
risk your own reputation..."

Lexie sprang to her feet and began to pace the turkey carpet, irritated
with Caro for putting her own doubts into words.  "Why not?  He is the
most eligible gentleman in town."  She spread her hands.  "All the
mama's would be hanging out for him for their daughters were it not for
his reputation, and even so some of the less scrupulous disregard it.
I, on the other hand, am free to do as I like?

She had no wish to invite keener opposition by exposing her real
intention to her cousin.  Besides, Cato might gossip, and if word of
her purpose were to reach Stormaston's ears, Lexie must fail.  She came
to a halt before the settee and addressed her cousin with great
seriousness.

"But, Cousin Caro, I enjoin you not not to gossip about my dealings
with his lordship.  Promise me, not a word to Mrs.  Seacombe or anyone
else.  I should not like to become an exhibition."

"Oh, no!  My lips are sealed!  But others will talk, my dear.  He is
certainly an exceptionally fine-looking gentleman. Handsome--elegant--"
Caro's flushed face became a deeper shade of pink'-and he must be most
attractive to a young woman such as yourself, despite his indolent,
affected manner--'

"Which I believe to be an affectation, Cousin."

"Well, yes, it must always be, I collect.  No one could be born with it
except perhaps the most vacuous of creatures, which I am persuaded his
lordship is not.  But you are so impetuous, my love!  There must be
other eligible gentlemen who would make more suitable escorts."

"None that I have so far met," declared Lexie firmly.  "I shall not
discourage his admiration, for I have found no other gentleman at
present in Town able to offer such agreeable company."

This was true, for although Lord Dexter amused her considerably, he was
inclined to admire Lady Fanny, who cherished a tend're for her
brother's disreputable friend.  And Stormaston himself possessed a
remarkably compelling personality he shared with no other.  She already
had a reputation for flouting convention in other ways so she might
just as well outrage the ton still further by flirting with someone
whose activities they loved to denounce.

Caro shook her head in helpless acknowledgement of her inability to
dissuade her wayward cousin, and sighed.  "If you are determined on it
I must advise you to be cautious, my dear Alexia.  Some gentlemen are
not always honourable in their dealings and the Marquess ... well, you
have said yourself that his reputation is of the worst kind."

Lexie laughed.  "I believe I can handle the Marquess, Cousin Caro.
Forewarned is forearmed, is it not?  I shall behave with the utmost
discretion.  You need not fear for me on Sunday, for I intend to take a
groom right into the Park with me instead of leaving him at the gate as
is my normal practice.  His lordship will not, perhaps, expect that,
having seen me tiding alone in the morning.  I was used to do so all
the time in Cornwall and I find the slow company of a groom tedious
when I desire to gallop."

Cousin Caro gave another faint cry of protest.  "It is so unladylike to
gallop?

Lexie chuckled.  "I know, dear Cousin!  But I cannot give up every
pleasure simply to please the stuffy dames who lead Society!  But I do
take a tiger up behind when I drive my curricle about Town."

"You make such a spectacle of yourself, my dear Alexia!  And a deal of
use that lad Jeffs would be in an emergency, except to holl the horses!
And to think I imagined you were learning discretion at last!  But I
must allow that Lord Stormaston seemed a most agreeable young man,"
Caro admitted rather wistfully.  "I wonder he is not yet wed."

Lexie chuckled.  "Because he is determined not to become leg-shackled,
I dare say.  He enjoys his bachelor freedom too much.  Wish you were a
few years younger, Cousin?"

"Well, if I were, I must confess I might be tempted..."  Mrs.  Baldwin
flushed and smiled rather guiltily.  "But I never had the chance to fix
the interest of so fine-looking a man, even as a flirt."

"I do consider myself fortunate," admitted Lexie with another chuckle.
"I did not anticipate enjoying myself half as much as I believe I
shall?

Crowds already jammed the streets when Lord Stormaston presented
himself in Bruton Street the next day to find Lexie waiting, dressed in
a splendid leaf-green costume and with a saucy bejewelled and feathered
hat perched firmly on her head.  Her magnificent chestnut gelding stood
at the door.

From her par lout window Lexie saw him arrive astride an expensive grey
stallion, a superb figure in an exquisitely cut snuff-coloured jacket,
buff pantaloons and shining hessians.  Her nerves tightened in
anticipation.  She could scarcely have wished for a more impressive
escort.

Cato, who had been watching with her, exclaimed over the perfection of
his lordship's appearance and retired to her chaise longue, where she
carefully arranged her draperies ready to receive him.

"Do take care," she admonished after he had been shown up and made his
bow.  "Such crowds!  I wonder that anyone should venture forth."

"There are thousands waiting in Piccadilly outside the Pulteney Hotel
to catch a glimpse of Czar Alexander," Stormaston agreed, offering
Lexie his arm.  "We will take all care, ma'am, never fear."  To Lexie,
as they descended the stairs, he remarked, "We had best avoid passing
that way."

"I know," said Lexie, "they are there every day, I have seen them."

"Of course, you must have," he responded gravely as he offered her a
lift to mount.  But, meeting his eyes for a brief moment as she placed
her foot in his clasped hands, Lexie became aware of amusement lurking
in their depths.

Regretting her rash remark, she took refuge in settling herself in her
saddle but soon, edging her horse along Mount Street to Tyburn Lane and
the Grosvenor Gate into Hyde Park through the throng of carriages,
carts and pedestrians, she forgot her discomfort in the excitement of
the moment.

"The people have gone mad over him."  Stormaston took up the
conversation again as he walked his horse at her side, "It seems all
London will gather in the Park this afternoon to watch him parade with
the leaders of the other Allied countries."

"I must confess that I myself am agog," Lexie told him.  "I long to see
Marshal Blficher and Prince Metternich."

He smiled.  "I conceived that you might be."

Jethro Pascoe had insisted on accompanying Lexie himself that afternoon
istead of Jeffs and he rode ahead, clearing the way, making certain no
pedestrian got trampled underfoot.  In the Park itself chaos reigned.
Storm and Lexie joined the splendid cavalcade of silk, gold lace,
splendid carriages and glossy homes being ridden or driven there, only
to discover that their part in the assembly was less to see than to be
seen and cheered.

The Master of the Horse, wearing his garter ribbon, led the official
parade, comprising the carriages carrying all the important visitors
together with their escorts.

"All I can see," grumbled Lexie as they trotted with other equestrians
round the Ring in their wake, "is Alexander's bodyguard, or at least
their waving plumes and the flash of their cuirasses in the sun."

"A pity, I agree," murmured Storm, smiling down on the eager, lively
face beneath the amazing thing she wore on her golden curls.  "But I
would not have missed the occasion for the world."

"Oh, nor would I!  Look, everyone is following the Sovereigns towards
the private gates into Kensington Gardens?.

"Then so shall we, if you wish it?"

"Why not?"  said Lexie.

But she had not realised that the mass of riders, almost all men, many
in uniform, would urge their mounts into a gallop, fan out to overtake
the carriages and surge towards the bridge across the Serpentine.
Their progress developed into a disorganised charge and, caught up in
the middle of it, Lexie needed all her skill to remain in her saddle,
even with Storm protecting her on one side and Pascoe on the other.

As they pounded over the narrow bridge Pascoe gave a sharp cry and
Lexie turned her head anxiously to see his boot fly into the air, torn
off by the impact of another rider barging into him.  But he quickly
recovered his stirrup and kept his place beside Lexie while Storm
pressed close on her other side, their knees clashing from time to
time.  Lexie was too occupied in controlling her horse to do more than
vaguely register a familiar tingle in her nerves.

Now they had crossed the bridge she must avoid being pushed against a
tree, or, worse, crushing a pedestrian against one, as was happening to
a woman screaming just ahead, as a wild-looking animal butted into her,
its rider quite out of control.  And surely that was the Master of the
Horse scrambling to his feet after having been thrown to the ground!

"We must extricate ourselves from this," called Storm, his voice grim.
Without further ado he took hold of Lexie's bridle and edged his own
mount towards the grass, pulling the chestnut with him.

Lxie's lips compressed in annoyance--did he think her incapable?--but
she merely murmured "Steady, Danny," soothing the animal, whose staring
eyes and flattened ears bore witness to its agitation.  And somehow
Storm manoeuvred both horses out of the throng without getting them
pinned against a tree or trampling any sightseers.

Once free of the mass of riders and halted on a comparatively uncrowded
stretch of grass Ixie dismounted, the better to soothe Danny.  Storm
swung out of his saddle and laughed a reckless, joyful laugh which set
her nerves tingling afresh.

"You did not need my aid to dismount, I perceive?  he observed, taking
her reins from her grasp.

"No, my lord, and neither did I need your help to escape the throng,"
retorted Lexie with spirit.  "But we have lost Pascoe, and he is
without one of his boots?

"Is he, indeed!  I dare swear he is not the only one to have
accoutrements dragged off in that stampede!  But it seems he could not
escape with us.  No doubt he is now before Kensington Palace with all
the other sightseers!  Do not concern yourself, Lady Amber, your groom
is well able to take care of himself, he will come to no harm."

"I hope you are right," said Lexie, her anxiety for Pascoe turning to
wry amusement that, for all her care, she was now alone with
Stormaston.  If you could call being in the midst of a seething mass of
people in Kensington Gardens alone!

Standing at the heads of their horses beneath a spreading tree they
were, however, screened from most of the people still attempting to
catch a glimpse of anyone of consequence who might be passing.  If they
themselves were the focus of a few inquisitive stares this did not seem
to concern the Marquess.

"But if you will not admit to needing rescue," he went on, "I cannot
claim a reward."

Lexie thought she might suffocate, for the breath stopped in her
throat.  "Indeed you may not, my lord!"  she managed, sharply if a
trifle faintly.

"A disappointment, I must confess.  A kiss would have been a fitting
end to our adventure."

His tone of mock affront brought the colour flooding to Lexie's face.
He knew!  She had suspected as much from the first.  Odious man!

"No such thing!"  she exclaimed.  "And I collect that you perceived all
along that it was I you rescued from the throng in Piccadilly that day!
You behaved abominably, treating me as you would a servant!  Why did
you pretend not to recognise me?"

"You seemed to prefer to remain incognito, my dear Lady Amber.  Who was
I to force you to admit your identity?"

"Do not play the innocent with me, Lord Stormaston!  You did it for
your own amusement and have been laughing at me ever since?

"You do me an injustice, Alexia ... Lexie."  His pained voice yet held
a thread of laughter in it but very little drawl.  "Since you were
masquerading as a lady's maid I felt justified in treating you as
such."

Lexie, uncomfortably aware that she had left herself open to rough
usage by her rash behaviour, took refuge in indignation.  "I have not
given you permission to address me so, my lord!"

He grinned unrepentantly.  "No, you have not, my delightful child.  I
have taken the liberty upon myself.  And I wish you would call me
James.  If we are to be intimate--'

Lexie suddenly relaxed.  He was teasing, flirting with her.  Two could
play at that game.  "Are we to become intimate, Storm?  Despite your
thinking me a child?"  she purred.  She could not possibly call him
James, not yet, not while she still felt so at odds with him.  She
hoped he would accept the compromise.

"Hmm," he mused, "At least that is an advance on "my lord".  One day,
though, I swear you will call me James.  For although you may
occasionally harbour childish notions, in every other respect you are a
most captivating woman.  We shall become intimate, you know."

She tapped his arm with her riding crop in mock admonition.  "You
presume too much, my dear Storm.  However, I am not averse to your
pursuit, it will enliven what might otherwise become a tedious round of
pleasure "Tedious, with all the pageantry we are promised, the balls,
the galas, the dinners to be attended, the museums, the galleries, the
theatres and the opera to be visited?  You amaze me, Lexie."

"But lacking an escort..."  She allowed the sentence to trail off,
looking down in what she hoped appeared to be demure confusion.

Storm was not deceived.  He scented victory and plunged headlong into
the final stage of the chase.  "Then I must offer mine, my dear Lexie.
I cannot have you languishing, bored, during such a joyous, triumphant
summer as this!"

"Your escort, Storm?"  Lexie, having achieved her purpose, lifted her
eyes to his wickedly smiling face then quickly lowered her lashes,
suddenly, inexplicably, shy.  "But my reputation..."  she managed to
murmur, achieving without difficulty just the right tone of
uncertainty.

"In public I shall behave with the utmost propriety," he promised,
amusement still lurking in his voice.  "I can, you know."

"Yes," acknowledged Lexie.  "You reserve yours most scandalous
behaviour for gaming hells, mills, cock-fights, curricle races and
boudoirs, I am informed.  You played the perfect host at your sister's
come-out.  Apart from your stealing of my two waltzes."

"From that accusation I beg to be absolved," he protested mildly.  "I
stole nothing.  I was perfectly at liberty to engage for any dances I
chose."

"But why?"  demanded Lexie, and then, as the blue eyes swept her
features and the grin spread widely over his face, wished she had
not.

"Because, my dear Lexie, I desired to enjoy your delightful company and
hoped to taste your delicious lips again.  Had you remained for our
second engagement ... but you did not."

His gaze narrowed and for an instant Lexie sensed again his anger at
her defection.  But almost instantly the smile was back in place and he
murmured, "Do you know, I believe we are private enough here for me to
claim both vengeance and reward--'

"No!"  gasped Lexie, stepping back and coming up against the trunk of
the tree.  "No, Storm, indeed you must not.  Look," she cried in
desperate relief.  "Here come your brother and his friends."

Storm glanced idly over his shoulder to the carriage-way leading to
Kensington Palace.  The procession had long since passed on and people
were beginning to straggle back.  "So they do.  But do not think you
have escaped, Lexie, my dear.  I shall claim what I am owed, never
fear."

Hugo and his cohorts reined in.  Hugo left the path to halt his horse
beside them.

"I thought it was you I saw in the mg16e, brother."  He eyed Lexie
speculatively and made an elaborate sweep of greeting, though without
dismounting.  "When you disappeared I thought you might have come a
cropper," he added unpleasantly.

"I regret to cause you disappointment, but no such luck, brother,"
drawled Storm, all his languid airs back in place.  "I merely escorted
Lady Amber from what had become a dangerous game with little point to
it."

"Dashed fine run, though a deuced stupid fuss everyone is makin" over
these creatures.  Detained if I can see why."

"Mind your language, if you please, brother!  Or had you forgotten the
presence of a lady?"

Storm's sharp reprimand startled Hugo but he smiled, none too amiably.
"Forgive me, Lady Amber.  I am not used to finding Storm alone in the
company of a lady."

"Were you not my brother I would call you out for that," remarked
Storm, his lazy mantle back in place.  "But perhaps not."  He shrugged
dismissively.  "Such a slur from you would scarcely warrant the
effort."

Lexie, though, could see his eyes, cold blue steel, the way his jaw
clenched, moving the thin line of the scar across his cheek, the
whitened knuckles of the fist clenched about the reins of their horses.
She thought she had never seen him look more dangerous.

Hugo's red face whitened.  He wheeled his horse and rode off, his
companions following after.  He, too, had glimpsed the fury hidden
beneath that careless exterior.  And was afraid of his brother's
wrath.

"You do not like him," said Lexie without thinking.  "On the contrary,"
disclaimed Storm.  "I like him well enough when he is not behavin" like
an ass.  But he resents being" a penniless younger son, you know. Liked
it even less when I was his guardian and still hates havin" to rely on
me for an allowance."

"Has he no money of his own?"

Storm shook his head.  "He will inherit a competence from the Duchess
when she dies but not enough to live on in the expensive way he
expects.  He needs to marry a fortune."

"But the mamas will not give him countenance."  "Rather less than they
give me," agreed Storm with his wicked grin.  "But come, Lexie my love,
do you wish to ride further?  Or shall we return through the Park?  The
crowds appear to have dispersed somewhat.,

He had dropped the question of the kiss.  Lexie, while noting his new
and even more scandalous method of addressing her, relaxed still
further and reached for Danny's reins.

"Return, I think.  I shall better enjoy a ride early tomorrow morning
when Hyde Park is less crowded."

Storm relinquished the reins without demur.  "And should we meet then,
I may ride with you?"

"Gladly, Storm," agreed Lexie, allowing him to assist her into her
saddle.  She had mentioned riding the following morning, intending them
to meet; he had not been slow to realise it.

Jethro Pascoe returned to Bruton Street limping but otherwise unhurt,
greatly distressed at having failed in his duty to keep close to his
mistress.  Lexie, receiving her bandy-legged, apologetic coachman in
the morning room, assured him that she fully sympathised with his
difficulties and had been perfectly safe with Lord Stormaston.

"I am greatly pleased to hear it, my lady," said Pascoe, his weathered
face under its thatch of greying hair all smiles in his relief.  "If
anything had happened to "ee, my lady, I would never have forgiven
myself."

"None of us expected such an exhibition of misplaced enthusiasm," said
Lexie, and just think, if you had not been beside me, Pasco6, I would
have suffered the knock you took!  Soon after that the Marquess managed
to extricate us from the press and escort me safely home."

"Aye, my lady," nodded Pascoe, "his lordship be a mighty fine horseman.
But I doubt he has a better seat or hands than you."

"You are prejudiced, Pascoe," laughed Lexie.  "And if what you say is
true, then I have you to thank!  I shall ride tomorrow morning.  Tell
Jells, will you?"

Jeffs, as usual, waited at the gate for his mistress's return.  Lexie
had not gone far before meeting Storm, who turned to accompany her.  He
made no objection to a gallop and soon they were racing along beside
the Serpentine, slower riders, hearing the thunder of their hooves,
moving aside to allow them to pass.  Storm's stallion Brutus, with a
heavier rider aboard, had difficulty in keeping up with Danny, who was
exceptionally fleet of foot.

"You have a prime piece of horseflesh there," Storm acknowledged as
they paused, allowing the horses to regain their wind.

Lexie patted Danny's steaming neck.  "Pascoe chose him for me.  He
chooses all my horses.  He is an excellent judge."

"And a devoted servant, or I miss my guess," smiled Storm.  "He
returned safely yesterday?"

"Yes, though his slashed leg pains him and he was upset to have failed
in his duty.  He considers you an excellent horseman," she added
mischievously.

"I am obliged."

Lexie chuckled.  "I thought you might be!"

"Imp!"  declared Storm.  "I dare swear you are teasing me!"

He raised his hat to a middle-aged gentleman riding by, who bowed to
them both but did not stop.

"Thomas Creevey," he murmured.  "The news of our riding together will
be all over town by this evening.  He is an inveterate gossip."

"It will prepare Society for our appearing together at the Countess's
rout tonight."

Storm raised his brows.  "I was about to enquire as to your intentions.
You are to attend?"

Lexie nodded, the mischievous smile still on her lips.  "But not
without an escort, I trust?"

He bowed from the waist.  "I shall be honoured, Lady Amber.  At what
time may I wait upon you?"

With the details settled they rode amicably side by side to rejoin
Jeffs, who fell into place behind them as they continued on to Bruton
Street.

Later in the day Lexie made her promised visit to Downshire House in
Grosvenor Square.  People were used to seeing her about Town alone in
her curricle by now but her arrival still caused a stir of admiration
for the remarkably fine horseflesh, the elegant carriage and the skill
displayed by its driver.

Jeffs jumped down to hold the matched pair of black horses while Lexie
gathered the skirts of her stunning violet carriage gown about her,
mounted the steps and entered the hall, where the heels of her half
boots clicked resoundingly upon the marble floor.

Lady Fanny ran forward to greet her when she was announced at the door
of the receiving room and the Duchess welcomed her graciously.  Several
other ladies were already present.  Mr.  Oswald Cres sWell the only
gentleman there, looked decidedly embarrassed.  He bowed elaborately
over Lexie's hand and gazed devotedly into her green eyes before
glancing nervously in the direction of the Duchess.

Lady Jersey, Mrs.  Drummond Burrell and Lady Cowper, all distinguished
Patronesses of Almack's, were already sipping at dishes of tea.  Lexie,
persuaded to share a small settee with Fanny, accepted hers, together
with a small slice of Madeira cake.  Lady Jersey, as was usual,
chattered away while the others nodded, smiled and made small
interjections, until the lady ironically known as "Silence" was finally
interrupted by the entrance of Stormaston and Dexter.

Lexie inclined her head and then looked steadfastly into her teacup
while the gentlemen made their devoirs.  Fanny blushed.  The Duchess,
her small, aristocratic, silk-clad figure positively radiating
pleasure, greeted her grandson with affection and Dexter with warmth.

Soon the talk somewhat naturally turned to the forthcoming assembly at
Almack's, to be held as usual on the Wednesday evening.

"You have a voucher, of course, Lady Amber," stated the Duchess, in
such a definite tone that Lexie was almost ashamed to admit that she
had not.

"I was admitted seven years ago, Your Grace, but since my return from
retirement in Cornwall !  have not yet been offered..."

"An oversight, no doubt," drawled Stormaston.  He bowed gravely in
Lexie's direction.  "I shall look forward to escorting you there on
Wednesday, my lady."

There was a moment's astonished silence before Mrs.  Drummond Burrell
smiled, murmuring, "We shall be glad to welcome you both.  To our
regret you are not a frequent visitor, Lord Stormaston."

And Lady Jersey exclaimed, "Of course you must come?  almost at the
same moment.

Lady Cowper, the most popular of the hostesses, having rummaged in her
reticule, triumphantly produced a bundle of tickets.  "I have vouchers
here, my lady!  We do so look forward to seeing you at our assembly."

"Thank you all," murmured Lexie, receiving the ten guinea vouchers
conveyed to her by an outwardly solemn Storm, whose blue eyes laughed
wickedly at her.

The Patronesses rose to leave and were soon followed by Oswald, who
whispered that he should like to book a dance with her on Wednesday.

Lexie promised to keep him one.  She could not dance with Storm all the
evening; that would look far too particular and raise more eyebrows
than she was inclined to tolerate.  As it was she doubted whether he
would be satisfied with the regulation two.  The mere fact of his
escorting her would set those tongues wagging which were not already
engaged in the exercise.

Being even now the subject of much speculation, she had no doubt at all
that the Patronesses would discuss the matter with all their vast
acquaintance, wondering at Stormaston's interest, discounting, as she
did herself, any honest purpose in the designs of a rake of his
calibre, placing bets on whether the Dowager Countess of Amber would
fall for his undoubted charm and accept a carte blanche.

She kept her head high as she drove home in her curricle.  A reputation
as the outrageously eccentric Lady Amber was not to be scorned, rather,
to be encouraged if she wished to make her mark on Society, but she
must show no hint of shame, no consciousness of having overstepped the
mark.  If one were bold enough, unconventional behaviour was often
tolerated, whereas a single deviation by one who normally kept well
within Society's strict set of rules could lead to ruin.

Not that she much cared if she were ruined socially.

She would, on the whole, be perfectly content leading a retired life at
Merryfield once she had experienced the freedom of a London Season not
overshadowed by the urgent necessity of catching a wealthy husband.

The challenge Storm presented was irresistible.  A small smile played
round her lips as she flicked her whip over Pitch's ear and turned her
pair into Bruton Street.

An indefinable radiance surrounded her as she ran upstairs, a glow
which even Caro's expression of grim foreboding could do nothing to
destroy.

CHAPTER FIVE

BY WEtNEStA , when they appeared at Almack's together, Society buzzed
with the latest on dit.  The Marquess of Stormaston and Alexia,
Countess of Amber, were quite openly conducting an affaire.  How far it
had gone none could tell, but as the tongues wagged, Lexie's reputation
stood in some danger of being besmirched.

She did not greatly care.  Her conscience was clear; she was having a
splendid time, since Storm was proving a most attentive and amusing
companion, and the old tabbies could say what they liked as long as
Lady Fanny and the Duchess continued to believe the attachment innocent
of vice.  If the Duchess continued to receive her, so would most other
hostesses.

"My dear," murmured Storm as they presented their vouchers and were
admitted, he having abandoned his normal trousers or pahtaloons to don
the knee breeches and silk stockings decreed by the Draconian rules of
the Patronesses, "how does it feel to be admitted to' the seventh
heaven of the fashionable world"?"

Lexie chuckled.  "I have heard it described as an exclusive temple,
though exactly what is worshipped here I cannot tell!"

"Vanity, my love.  Nothing but vanity."

"Yet to be excluded is looked upon as the worst kind of ill-fortune."
She shook her head in amused disbelief.

"I am amazed all over again that we plot and intrigue and use all our
diplomatic arts to gain admission and are ready to pay ten guineas for
the privilege of entering so uninspiring a set of rooms and partaking
of such indifferent refreshment."

"It is the exclusivity of Almack's which makes it so desirable.  Only
think," said Storm, idly fingering his quizzing glass while eyeing the
cream of Society wandering about the room with a cynical eye,
"three-quarters of the nobility knock at its doors in vain!"  He
grinned down at her.  "Do you not feel honoured to be here?"

"I must confess there is a certain sense of satis factionl" After the
briefest of pauses Lexie went on, "Yet denial now would matter so much
less than it would have done seven years ago, when to find a husband
was the object of my being brought to London.  Mama regarded admission
here as the key to my success."

Unconsciously, she sounded sad, almost disillusioned.  Studying her
vivid face, the unusually pensive green eyes in their nests of tawny
lashes, the finely arched dark-golden brows, the slightly concave line
of her adorable nose, the all-too-kissable lips, Storm felt the
familiar stir of desire.

"As I remember it, you were a great success," he remarked as he led her
out to take their places in a set.  "Quite beyond the touch of a rake
like me, of course.  But that does not mean that I did not-notice how
delectable a morsel you were.  And still are," he added, his eyes
appraising the fetching figure outlined by the folds of her delicate
blue gown.

"Really, Storm, you should not address me in such a manner!  Should you
be overheard--'

"But I was not, and you, my dear Lexie, were pleased with the
compliment, is that not so?"

"I am long past being shocked by anything even you might say,"
responded Lexie, throwing him a mocking glance.  But her heart had
begun to beat fast.  She would be obliged to use all her wit to hold
this dangerous, attractive lord to a virtuous course.

When the dance was over Storm led her from the floor.

"Shall we repair to the terrace?"  he asked her, with such an air of
innocence that Lexie was tempted to laugh.

"I do declare!"  she exclaimed without answering him.  "There are the
Duchess and Lady Fanny!  I must go and pay my respects."

Storm smiled sardonically and made no demur over escorting her across
to his grandparent, dressed that evening in dark blue silk, who sat
stiff and upright in her seat, dominating the small party gathered
about her.  She immediately commanded him to fetch Lady Alexia a chair,
thus drawing them both into her circle.

The moment both Lexie and Fanny had accepted partners for the next pair
of dances and taken to the floor, the Duchess patted the chair beside
her with an abrupt, "Sit down, James,"

Storm obediently lowered himself beside her and arranged his long legs,
watching Lexie depart with marked displeasure.

The Duchess eyed him shrewdly before she spoke.  "You cannot monopolise
Lady Alexia, James," she admonished sternly.  "It will not do.  She is
not one of the Cyprians or demi reps with whom you are so wretchedly
fond of consorting.  I am quite sure that even you would not wish to
shred her reputation beyond repair."

"You amaze me, as ever, with your command of low language, Grandmama,"
teased Storm, reluctantly removing his eyes from Lexie to meet his
grandmother's critical gaze.  "But no, of course I do not.  However,
since she is of age and willing to accept my escort--'

The Duchess snorted, tossing her head, making the jewels in her turban
flash.  "What young woman would not be dazzled by your attentions after
years of marriage to an old man, years spent buried in the depths of
Cornwall!  Lady Alexia is a high-spirited filly but virtuous.  I doubt
she is willing to be seduced by you or anyone else, and I should think
it a great pity should you see fit to attempt--'

"Grandmama," interrupted the Marquess with rather more firmness than he
usually used with his grandparent, at the same time laying a
restraining hand upon her arm.

"You will allow, I trust, that I am not irredeemably lost to all sense
of propriety, that I have never yet caused damage to any lady whose
reputation had not already been sullied past redemption and that I am
of an age when I may do as I please.  I have always done my utmost to
abide by Your Grace's wishes.  But, much as I love you and hold you in
respect, in the matter of my private life I must protest my right to
conduct it as I please."

The Duchess reached up to touch the scar on his cheek with a knotted
finger, her faded old eyes tender.  "I know, my dear.  You have always
had a keen, if sometimes misguided, sense of honour."

Storm gently took her small, veined hand in his.  He smiled cynically.
"I was young and idealistic then.  I

have since learned the true value of women of her sort."

"But do not think all women unworthy of your regard."  The Duchess
recovered her hand and tapped him on the shoulder with her folded fan.
"As for obliging me by following my wishes, I know how much it cost you
to give up your ambition to purchase a pair of colours, my dear boy,
and that much of your rackety behaviour since has stemmed from your
obedience to my wish.  But you are Downshire's heir and the thought of
Hugo's inheriting almost gave your grandfather a stroke."

She nodded solemnly at Storm, who had given a rueful half-laugh
followed by a sigh.  "You have responsibilities, James, most of which I
know you shoulder with determination and great skill.  But you have not
yet provided yourself with an heir--certainly not a legitimate one.
Have you fathered many bastards?"

The question came out in the Duchess's best grande dame manner
accompanied by another sharp tap with her fan and for an instant even
Storm looked slightly taken aback by her outspokenness.  But he quickly
recovered himself.

"Two, to my certain knowledge," he draMed.  "Both are well provided
for."

"They should be legitimate and gracing your nursery!

You are depriving us of the joy of watching our great grandchildren
grow up!  You must wed, James, and

Alexia Hamilton would make you a fine wife."

Storm crossed his legs and eyed the toe of one brilliantly polished
pump.

"If I wanted a wife," he agreed, lazily flicking a speck of dust from
the black sleeve of his coat.  "But I do not, at present.  It may
surprise you to discover, ma'am, that I have every intention of
avoiding marriage until I am certain that it will contain at least a
measure of felicity.  I have seen too many men in my position ensnared
by some scheming chit for their title and wealth, only to serve long
years of domestic warfare and unhappiness.  I have no wish to be caught
in that matrimonial trap."

"God love you, my dear, I should not wish it for you--" began the
Duchess, but at that moment the dance ended and their tete-a-tete with
it.

Storm was not sorry.  He was exceedingly fond of his grandmother and
did not relish her strictures.  But he only bent to her will when his
conscience told him he must, as over the question of joining the
army.

His own much-loved estates, attached to the marques sate of Stormaston,
required considerable attention, and the extensive lands and fortune
pertaining to the honour of Downshire would demand an efficient and
conscientious hand to guide them on the demise of the present Duke.

Hugo would not do.  Even at the age of eighteen, when Hugo had been a
mere lad of twelve, Storm, like his grandparents, had been able to see
the weakness and wildness, the envy in his younger brother, and to
anticipate the probable dissipation of the family fortune were he ever
to inherit.

At one and twenty, when Storm became entirely his own master and could
have done as he pleased in defiance of his grandparents" wishes, Hugo's
fifteen-year-old character had appeared even less promising.

d so Storm had heeded his grandmother's pleas,

shouldered his duty and forsworn the army as a career.  But his high
spirit of adventure had demanded other outlets and thus his reputation
as a rake had been born.

He stood silently behind Lexie's chair, admiring the golden swathes of
hair so ingeniously intertwined with pearls and ribbons, longing to
touch, to kiss the tender spot exposed on the nape of her neck, and
wryly admitted to himself that any hint of real wildness now was
entirely for the sake of appearances.

Of course, like any other gentleman, he had kept a succession of
mistresses.  And soon, perhaps very soon, he would dismiss Hermione
from his flat.  Lexie filled his thoughts; he had no inclination to bed
his mistress now.  She would find no difficulty in securing another
protector, of that he was assured.

He had won her generous fay ours in the face of stiff opposition and
Storm, who was perfectly aware of his own ability to attract but did
not suffer from any great degree of self-consequence, believed she had
chosen him solely because he had the most money to lavish upon her.  So
she, like others before her, would suffer few pangs at being deprived
of his favour.  For all his faults and reputation, he had never been
promiscuous, had been particular in his choice of chore arnies, and had
never indulged in more than one lover at a time, demanding fidelity in
return.

Lexie, he brooded, was proving a provoking creature to ensnare.  Of
course the Duchess was right; he could not risk damaging her reputation
beyond repair.  Unsubstantiated gossip was one thing, certain knowledge
of indiscretion quite another.  He would have to conduct this affair
with the utmost discretion.  He was quite prepared for that.

After another dance with the object of his desire he danced with Fanny,
while Lexie danced with Felix, who had joined their party.  After that
the girls were claimed by a succession of partners, though Storm had
insisted Lexie keep the waltzes for him.

The Czar, who loved dancing, arrived with his entourage and accompanied
by his sister, the Grand Duchess, a fair-haired, vivacious widow whom
Storm abhorred, for it was she who had turned the Czar against the
Regent, whom she had taken in intense dislike.  For some little while
Storm found himself cornered by the Grand Duchess and it took all his
resolution to maintain his languid, charming mask.

Extracting himself from the reach of her caustic and critical tongue,
he returned to claim the hand of another fair-haired and vivacious
widow, in whose company he would gladly spend the remainder of the
evening if only convention would allow.

Mr.  Cresswell had turned up with his mama, the Viscountess, and
dutifully asked Fanny to stand up with him, after which he requested
the honour of standing up with Lady Amber.

"Mama is getting" most insistent," Oswald grumbled as they came
together in the dance.  "Orders me to seek permission to pay my
addresses.  But Lady Fanny don't want to marry me any more than I want
to marry her."

"So you have said before," murmured Lexie.  The steps of the dance gave
her a few moments to think before they met again.  "Why don't you
approach Lord Stormaston?"  she suggested.  "He is Fanny's guardian,

know.  I fancy he might solve your problem for you by refusing
permission."

"You mean he don't like me, don't think me good enough," muttered
Oswald gloomily.

Lexie shook her head.  Poor Oswald, he had little self-confidence.  He
was probably right, though.  But if the Duchess pushed the match Storm
would no doubt agree in the end.

"I did not say that, Mr.  Cresswell," she told him firmly.  "But I
doubt he thinks you would suit.  And if he did give permission, Fanny
has only to refuse, you know.  He would not force her to wed against
herlwiIl."

Oswald brightened visibly at this.  "I sit at your feet in admiration,
Lady Amber," he declared as they made their bows at the end of the
dance.  "You are divinely beautiful and extraordinary clever, too.  You
would not marry me yourself, I collect?"

Lexie smiled, a certain compassion in her gaze.  He really was the
nicest of young men, but not to her taste and too immature altogether.
"You do me great honour, Mr.  Cresswell, but no, I would not.  We
should not suit, either, I am far too rack cry for you.  Your mama
would never agree?

"I'll be out of leading strings in a couple of months, you know,"
Oswald informed her.  "Mama won't be able to tell me what to do once
I'm one and twenty."

But she would still try, and Oswald, bless him, would not have the
strength to resist.  Lexie could see it all.  However, all she said
was, "If you wish to please her, Mr.  Cresswell, do as I suggest.  Once
you have been refused she must give up."

"She'll only pick on some other female I ain't interested in," he
prophesied dismally.

The next dance being a waltz, Lexie found her st taking the floor with
Stormaston and after war breathless from a number of causes, allowed
him lead her to the refreshment room.

He handed her a glass of lemonade.  "We shou drink it outside," he
murmured.  "It would be cool there."

And darker, more private, thought Lexie, a thrill.  excitement sending
a shiver down her spine.  But sl could not risk such an expedition yet.
She trusted tlheMarquess not one inch and herself little more, knowi
the strange, dizzying effect his nearness had upon h So she must hold
him at arm's length for as long as took to bring him to the declaration
she desired.

"I would rather sit here," she said, choosing a cha "Tongues are
wagging quite enough already.  Were I disappear into the darkness
outside with you, I treml: to think what would be said.  And," she
added quick before he could challenge her on the point, "althougl do
not object to being spoken of as unconventional even as a flirt, I
would dislike intensely being through to play the whore."

For an instant Storm frowned, as though he fore her reasoning
distasteful.  But then he dropped into the seat beside hers, draping
one arm across its back as I faced her with a lazy smile.  "You
disappoint me, Lexi my love.  I thought you had more courage."

"And I thought you a gentleman, my lord, des pi your reputation!  Never
tell me I was wrong!"

He suddenly put his head back and laughe "Touchd, my love!  Despite all
appearances, I wou not have your reputation sullied.  I see I must bide
r time and find a more suitable opportunity for dalliance."

Lexie smiled.  "But I have never promised to daily with you, Storm.
Merely to accept your escort to certain events and occasions.  Do not
read more into my offer of friendship than is there."

"But you still owe me a kiss."

This time Lexie, prepared, was able to meet his words with equanimity.
"You may consider it so, but I do not."

He smiled that lazy, devastating, knowing smile.  "We shall see."

Over the next weeks they appeared everywhere together.  In the end the
gossip waned for lack of further fuel.  The couple behaved with the
utmost propriety apart from dancing together rather more than was
acceptable and spending more time sitting together when in company than
did most married couples.  Lexie enjoyed it all hugely.

Storm was a charming, amusing and knowledgable companion.  They talked
about everything under the sun.  He was certainly no the idle fop he
appeared.  He spoke with enthusiasm about his country house in
Wiltshire, Stormaston Park, his extensive estates and the modern
farming methods with which he was experimenting.

"You would like Stormaston, Lexie," he told her as they chatted quietly
waiting for a concert to begin.  Caro, who had accompanied them since
she was fond of music, had found a place near the front, sitting with
the chaperons.  "You must visit there with me when the Season ends."

"I planned on going to Brighton for July," said Lexie, hiding her
jubilation at the invitation although she would not go, of course,
unless it was to join a house party.  "And then back to Merryfield.  My
estate needs my personal attention if I am to introduce all the reforms
you suggest.  Although I have an excellent steward, he is set in the
old ways and will need persuading to change."

"Perhaps we should exchange visits," murmured his lordship.  "I should
be happy to assist you in any way within my power."

"You are kind, Storm.  Perhaps we should.  But I promise nothing."

Storm, who found his companion more enchanting by the day, hid his
frustration in some lazy rejoinder The minx was teasing him to
distraction, giving freely of her company yet granting him no chance to
deepen their relationship except upon the most austerely friendly
terms.  Even in his own coach, with Lexie chaperoned by her maid or by
her cousin, who, on occasion, could be tempted out by a visit to the
theatre or to hear a musical concert, he must sit properly in his
corner.

Despite her fluttery ways he liked Mrs.  Baldwin, who amused him by
regarding him with rather suspicious awe.  Beneath her ineffectual
manner she was, he had discovered, perfectly capable of ordering
Lexie's household and helping to organise an entertainment to which
most of the haut ton had been invited.

It was to take place on the thirteenth of July and the Duke of
Wellington, who would be in London by then, had promised to attend. The
Sovereigns had departed on the twenty third day of June and London was
enjoying a slightly less frenetic few days before the Duke's arrival.
Because of this they had met only twice in the last week and Storm
found he missed seeing Lexie more than he was quite ready to admit.

Hermione had been dismissed and his discreet flat lay empty.  Perhaps,
he thought vaguely, his opportunity would come when they joined a party
to visit Vauxhall.  That was not for two weeks yet, a couple of days
after Lexie's soiree.  But they would all wear masks and the
possibilities of luring a female into dark, lonely paths was one of the
main attractions of the place.  He cared little for the amusements laid
on or the firework displays either, but such things pleased the
ladies.

"The arrangements for your soiree are going well?"  he enquired out of
politeness.  He did not expect to enjoy an occasion where Lexie would
be a busy hostess while he languished on the sidelines.  He would, he
decided, make for the card room and spend the evening there.

"Excellently, I thank you.  Cousin Caro is a wonder."  Suddenly Lexie
smiled.  "You and she are alike, you know.  You hide your true self
behind a lamentably foppish mask while Caro's efficiency is concealed
behind a vague, fluttery manner.  I do not believe her deception is
deliberate.  But yours is."

"A protection, merely," drawled Storm.

"Oh dear," muttered Lexie.  "Here comes Hugo."  "Young puppy."

Lazy amusement filled Storm's tone, yet Lexie knew he was not pleased.
Hugo had been pursuing her for the last couple of weeks, and despite
all her efforts to dissuade him he persisted in asking her to stand up
with him, which she could not refuse to do wit hr appearing to lack
conduct.

Under normal circumstances he would not be se dead at a musical
evening.  He was quite de liberat attempting to oust his brother in her
affections; The very idea that he thought himself able made her w: to
laugh.

Hugo greeted them with one of his extravagant be and demanded to know
whether there was any way which he might serve Lady Amber.

"Should Lady Amber require anythin" I am, desl: my great age, quite
able to render the service," poinl out Storm agreeably.

"I lack for nothing, I thank you," put in Lexie quic} 'and I am certain
you would find entertainment m, to your liking in the card room, Lord
Hugo."

"Oh, I shall retire there once the music begins's Hugo.  "In fact, I
may a well wander along now," added, seeing the musicians about to take
their plal "I shall look forward to seeing you again at supl: Lady
Amber."

"Does he annoy you?"  asked Storm, watching departure of his brother
with narrowed eyes.

"Not really."  Lexie had no wish to stir up an animosity between the
brothers.  She sensed that there was quite enough already.  "But I do
wish he could t a hint!"

"Hugo," stated Storm grimly, "never could."

Hugo did not appear for supper after all.  "Deep i game, no doubt,"
observed Storm when Lc remarked on his welcome absence.

Later, returning from a visit to the cloakroom, heard Storm's
unmistakable voice as she approacl an open door on her way back to the
salon.  She was quite alone in the corridor and his words rose easily
above a distant hum of conversation and the faint strains of
instruments being tuned in the background.

She halted, not wishing to intrude, and realised he was speaking in a
tone she had never heard him use before, authoritative and implacable,
as he declined to meet Hugo's vast gaming losses.

"You'll not allow the name of Graham to be sunk in iniquity!"  declared
Hugo."

"You think not?"  came back the biting retort.

"I had thought better of even you, brother!"

"You repose too much faith in my determination to defend the honour of
our name," came Storm's cold response.  "I have bought you out of
enough sad scrapes in the past, I will do so no more.  If your
allowance will not cover your expenses and losses, then I suggest you
do not incur them.  I have no intention of allowing you to squander any
more of the Graham fortune.  You will live within your generous
allowance or find some honest way of supplementing it.  Gaming is not
the way, as you must by now be fully aware."

"I was attemptin" to recover my fortunes at the tables tonight.  But
Lady Luck was against me."  Hugo sounded childish in his whining
truculence.

"The war with France is over at last.  You could do worse than join the
army.  Your life would no longer be at great risk.  I doubt you would
be posted to America to prosecute the war there, which in any case is
likely to be over shortly."

"You forget, I would have to purchase a commission.  I cannot pay my
debts so I could not do that, either."

There was a moment's silence.  "Would you like to follow the colours,
Hugo?"  Storm sounded surprised.

Lexie could hear the shrug in Hugo's petulant voice.  "There is little
to entertain me here if I cannot afford to gamble.  To be a half-pay
officer would suit me well, and there will be plenty of those
commissions for sale now Napoleon is defeated."

"I will buy you a commission--but only provided it carries a
posting."

A stunned silence followed.  Then, "Not in a line regiment," came
Hugo's slow answer.

"Very well.  And, Hugo, once you are commissioned and posted, I will
pay your current debts and gaming losses.  Let me have a list tomorrow.
But mark me well, this is the last time I shall come to your rescue.
Officers are cashiered for accumulating debts they cannot meet, and
often end up in prison."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"  ground out" Hugo viciously.  "Sittin"
on a fortune, refusin" to help, black-mailin' me into going into the
army and takin" up what will probably be a dashed uncomfortable posting
in some foe rid hole--'

"No fortune is inexhaustible, my dear Hugo.  I am responsible for
husbanding that of our family for future generations.  My own
extravagances, whatever you may think, are not now excessive, whatever
they may have been in the past.  The Graham fortune is in truth greater
now that when I inherited it.  Not even you, my dear brother, will be
allowed to undo all the work I

have put in over the last few years to achieve that end."  "Unless I
inherit."

"I do not intend to quit my lease just yet, even to please you, Hugo.
And I expect one day to set up a nursery of my own.  You are not
Marquess of Stormaston yet."

"I shall return to Grosvenor Square and prepare my statement.  You
shall have it in the morning," said Hugo stiffly.

Lexie had been standing mesmerised by what she was hearing, seeing
Storm for the first time as a man of power, of stature, of principles.
She had glimpsed this man before, but not in such convincing guise.

She came to herself with a shock, realised the interview was at an end
and wondered what to do.  She could not retreat.  There was only one
thing for it: to pretend to be hurrying 6ack to the salon.  Picking up
the train of her skirt she went swiftly forward, feigning complete
surprise when she bumped into the retreating Hugo.

"Why, Lord Hugo!  You must excuse me for being such a gawk," she cried,
"but I was hurrying back and never expected to meet with anyone--'

Hugo had his hands on her arms as he sought to help her recover her
balance while retaining his own.  They were hot and trembling.

"Lady Amber!  My deepest regrets..  any fault entirely ... please allow
me--'

"I will attend Lady Amber."

Storm stepped from the room and Lexie turned.  "Lord Stormaston!  I had
thought to rejoin you in the salon?

"Indeed, I should have been there except that Hugo and I had some
business to discuss."  He nodded at Hugo.  "I will expect you in the
morning, brother."

"My duty, Lady Amber," muttered Hugo with a sketchy bow, and hurried
away.

Lexie stared after him and then looked up at Storm's grim face.  "A
family rift?"

His face softened as he smiled at her.  "Nothin" to worry your head
about, m'dear.  A little business matter to be taken care of Hugo has
decided to follow the drum.  He requires me to purchase him a
commission."

Lexie could not help her frown.  "Will the life suit him."?"

"I doubt it, but it may do him a service.  Forget Hugo."  He muttered
something she could not quite catch.  It sounded suspiciously like
"Lucky young dog," but she could not be certain.  And then he was
drawling "Let us go and enjoy the remainder of this entertaining
concert."

But Lexie was seeing her companion with new eyes and found it extremely
difficult to concentrate on the music.

The days sped by.  The Duke of Wellington arrived in London to be
greeted by ecstatic crowds.  The dinners, the balls, the parades began
all over again.  This was the man who had commanded the British army to
victory in the Peninsula, who had chased the French out of Spain and
back into France and taken Toulouse on the tenth of April, at great
cost of dead and wounded, not knowing that Napoleon had abdicated over
a week earlier.

And then, despite the peace, the Governor of Bayonne decided to fight
on, causing the slaughter of several hundred troops on both sides in a
useless sortie from the besieged town.

But Wellington was not to blame for that.  He had restored British
pride in her army and returned a hero.  His arrival at Ixie's soiree
caused such a stir that everything came to a halt; men left the card
tables to come to greet him, the musical trio ceased to play, the
ladies to chatter.

He came dressed in the field-marshal's uniform designed for him by the
Regent, the scarlet coat embroidered on collar, cuffs, down the front
and at the seams.  A flock of aides-de-camp followed at his heels and
he had soon collected a bevy of lovely, adoring women around him.

As the evening resumed its course Lexie smiled indulgently to where the
Duke, an indifferent conversationalist, nodded, smiled modestly and
murmured "Yes, yes," to whatever was said to him and paid laboured
compliments to the ladies.

Lexie, aware with every fibre of her being of Stormaston's approach,
was not surprised to hear his voice in her ear.

"You find the Field Marshal attractive?"

His voice held a tone she could not quite interpret.  It seemed to hold
an undercurrent of anger laced with jealousy, yet somewhere egret lay
hidden.  Looking up, she could see the mixed emotions reflected in his
face as he studied the Duke through his quizzing glass, an affectation
he seldom used.

Lexie placed her hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tense as she did
so.  She suddenly felt extremely hot, but she kept her tone light as
she said, "Not at all, although he does exude a certain aura of power,
which I suppose some women find engaging.  But I do believe his
authority to be more contrived, a product of his calling, than natural.
On the whole, I

find him agreeable, but he has not brought his wife to London to share
in his triumph."

The muscles under her hand relaxed and Storm dropped his glass,
allowing it to hang upon its ribbon.  "Nevertheless, I would have
counted it a privilege to serve under him."

That answered another question she had been nursing in her mind.  He
envied Hugo.  He had wanted to join the army.  "Then why did you not?"
she asked gently.

"As Downshire's heir..."  he shrugged, letting the gesture speak for
him.

"I see.  Well, I am glad you did not volunteer, for had you been killed
I should have lacked an escort this Season."

"Soon," he rejoined, his blue eyes brilliant, "I intend to be more than
merely your escort."

CHAPTER SIX

VAUXHALL Gardens blazed with the light of innumerable lamps as darkness
fell.  They had arrived to enjoy their big adventure as the midsummer
sun dipped below the horizon: Lexie, Storm, Fanny, Felix, Oswald and
several other young people of their acquaintance, accompanied by
Oswald's mother, Lady Wighton, as chaperon.

To Lexie, Lord Stormaston was immediately recognisable despite his
black cloak and mask.  He had, of course, called for her in his
carriage, so the chance to mistake him for another was nil, but in any
case she would have picked him out from any throng.  He possessed such
an air.  And she could never have mistaken his blue eyes, dancing at
her through the slits of his mask.

In truth, she had little difficulty in recognising Lady Fanny, Lord
Dexter or Mr'Cresswell, despite the last's devilishly pointed creation
encrusted with gold embroidery, though.  the identities of some of the
others, with whom she was less well acquainted, did tease her at first.
Once safe in the pavilion reserved for their use, they discarded their
disguises amidst much laughter and teasing before partaking of the
refreshment provided.

The young people were eager to explore.  Lady Wighton, a plump woman of
some five and forty years, had an aversion to exerting herself.  She
lacked the breath to walk far and, although she took her duties as
chaperon seriously, she was not persuaded of the necessity to accompany
the young people on a stroll of exploration.

"Lady Amber, I entrust the office of chaperon to you!"  she declared
with an arch smile, forcefully poking her son into offering Lady Fanny
his arm.  "Do not forget to wear your masks!  And do not wander far,"
she enjoined their departing backs.  "I shall look for you to return
within the hour!"

"Very well, Mama," muttered Oswald from beneath the weight of his gold
thread.

Lexie, wearing a light green spotted muslin gown and close-fitting head
dress, masked like all the rest in a matching creation which suited her
admirably--Vauxhall was not the place for any members of the haut ton
to be seen officially--took Storm's arm..

"I believe Lady Wighton has instructed Oswald to further his suit with
Lady Fanny," she murmured, watching the pair strolling in front of
them.

"I have already refused him my permission to address her," declared
Storm, stating a fact of which Oswald had already apprised Lexie.
"Fanny begged me not to allow it."

Lexie squeezed his arm without thinking.  "I am so glad you did!"  she
exclaimed.  "I was certain you would!  Neither of them want it, you
know."

Storm tried to steady the hammering in his veins occasioned by her
inthnate gesture and to control his body's response.  "I collect you
enjoy Mr.  Cresswell's confidence and that it was you who inspired him
to approach me?"  he asked.

"I hope you did not mind!"  Lexie had become aware of the consequences
of her intimate gesture, not only upon herself but upon the Marquess as
well.  She would have to control her spontaneity in future if she were
to avoid provoking him into thinking her a tease.  She therefore took
care to keep her hand featherlight upon his arm as she went on, "It
seemed the easiest way to dissuade Lady Wighton from her purpose, but
her ladyship is not easily deterred."

Oswald, still with Fanny, turned into one of the many byways, already
becoming shadowed where the coloured lamps did not reach.  Felix
followed, a young woman on either arm.  Others of the party hesitated
at the junction.

"Lord Dexter," murmured Lexie, "is scarcely qualified to act the
chaperon.  I think perhaps we should follow.  The Viscountess did
say..."

"But without meaning it," said Storm firmly.  "We shall leave them all
to their own devices.  Little harm can come of it.  I have other things
in mind for us."

Lexie's conscience smote her but her heart leapt.  When she had
accepted the invitation to join the party, she had guessed Storm would
take advantage of the surroundings, the occasion, to claim a kiss.  And
she had encouraged him by her unthinking, grateful squeeze of his
arm!

Vauxhall was known to be the Place for forbidden assignations, for the
carrying out of plots to waylay and abduct the unwary.  Lexie feared
being alone with him, not because she anticipated Storm to have any
devilish designs on her but because she did not trust her own responses
where he was concerned.  But the others had all disappeared from view
and Storm was leading her behind a booth containing a bearded lady into
the dark, labyrinthine byways behind.

"Storm!"  she protested, trying to tug him back to the main path and
virtue.

"You do not fear me, Lexie, surely?"  he asked softly.  "No, of course
not, but I think--'

He placed a reassuring hand over the one now clutching desperately at
his arm.  "Then do not.  Let us enjoy these moments of seclusion.  The
rules which decide that a man and woman may not be alone together
without causing scandal are stupid and archaic, except, perhaps, for
the very young."  "Reason tells me so, but--'

"But dire warnings have been instilled into your mind since childhood!
I know, my dear, but I mean you no mischief and what harm can there
possibly be in our spending a few moments apart from others in a public
garden where you would have but to scream and the world would come to
your rescue in an instant?"

"None at all," agreed Lexie, who had only been protesting because she
wanted to be with him so much it must be wrong.  How she longed for his
kiss!  But to what might it lead?  She knew it would be prudent to
insist upon joining the others or returning to Lady Wighton
immediately, but prudence lost out to anticipation as Storm drew her
into a tiny glade just off the path and took her into his arms.

Music, shouts, laughter, all faded into the background as she felt the
urgency of his hold, the hammering of his heart, his breath fanning her
face as his mouth hovered over hers while he removed first his own and
then her mask, dropping them to the ground.

Her own heart beat hard and fast, her limbs turned to warm, sweet,
viscous wine as she dropped her reticule and flung her arms about his
neck, abandoning all modesty as the need to be close to him swept over
her.  Ridiculous as it seemed, this was, she suddenly knew, where she
belonged.  In Lord Stormaston's arms.

"Lexie!"  he murmured deeply before his mouth claimed hers.

Lexie had never known such sweeping desire as possessed her in the next
few moments.  His kiss, deep and penetrating, tasting her and giving
her a taste of him, lasted until it dragged a groan from her throat.
Had her arms not been clasped tightly about his neck she Would have
fallen, so limp had her muscles become.  Her body did not belong to her
and neither did her mind, which whirled kaleidoscopic ally from
sensation to sensation, drowning fear, responsibility, time itself.

His lips moved from her mouth to her eyes, the tilted tip of her nose,
the fluttering pulse in her throat, and all the time he murmured words
of endearment.  Lexie's fingers tangled in his hair, quite destroying
the careful arrangement his man had achieved.

He shifted his hold to turn her slightly so that his hand could cup one
of her breasts, his thumb finding its peak through the thin muslin of
her gown and chemise.  Lexie gasped as new sensation lanced through her
body.

"I want you, Lexiei" he said strongly; although his heart beat like a
hammer, his breathing came harsh, his voice trembled slightly and she
could feel the urgency of his desire, he was in complete control of his
actions.  He went on, "I know you want me, too.  My love, I own a flat
where we could meet discreetly.  You need have no fear for your
reputation, I shall guard it well.  Will you come to me there?"

Abruptly, the rosy euphoria deserted Lexie.  Disappointment surged
through her.  Sounds, harsh, jangling sounds, bestial, drunken laughter
filled her ears.  But she had known he wanted her for his mistress, not
his wife.  She should not feel so mortified.

She struggled to escape his hold.  "Are you offering me a cane
blanche?"  she demanded, her voice quivering uncontrollably.

At her tone he lifted surprised eyebrows.  "Naturally, my little tease.
What else did you think I had in mind?"

She could not possibly mention marriage.  She had known he did not
intend that and apparently all her wiles had not changed his mind.  She
drew a breath.

"Friendship.  Flirtation, maybe even dalliance.  As tonight.  But no
more.  You must have known that I could never accept such an offer, my
lord.  I may flout certain conventions, but I consider myself a
respectable widow.  You would have me become a whore."

"I would have you become my lover, Lexie.  There is the world of
difference--'

"Not to me!"  she raged, to cover her distress.  "How dare you...?"
Words failed her as tears of frustration and anger filled her eyes. She
dashed them away and pushed past him to regain the path.  "I would be
much obliged if you would escort me back to our pavilion," she managed
on a choking sob.

Storm bent down to retrieve her reticule and their masks.  He did not
argue further, knowing it to be fruitless in the face of her real
distress.  Painful frustration expressed itself in his grim expression.
His eyes,

warm, holding fire a moment ago, became chips of blue ice.  All his
patience had been worthless.  He had thought her merely playing hard to
get, been confident that in the end she would capitulate as had so many
others in the past.

But she had not.  He deliberately encouraged wrath to replace
rejection.  He had seldom--never!--had his well-rehearsed advances
refused before.  Lady Amber, an amusing, stimulating companion, had
encouraged his friendship.  She was far from indifferent to him and
should have fallen into his arms with cries of joy.  She was, he
decided, exactly what he had jokingly called her, a tease.  There was
nothing he hated more than a tease.  She deserved a sharp lesson.  A
very sharp lesson indeed.

Lexie, glancing up to thank him for returning her mask and reticule,
saw the harshness in his face, saw the white line of his scar shift as
he clenched his jaw, and a tremor of fear added desperation to her
already disturbed emotions.  She had led him on, but in her mind
towards marriage, a respectable union.  But surely he was gentleman
enough not to seek revenge?

Storm allowed nothing f his thoughts to show in his face or manner as
he delivered her back to the chaperonage of the Viscountess, behaving
as though nothing untoward had happened.  Lexie, he noted, was trying
to do the same and succeeding to all intents.  Only he would notice the
strain in her eyes, the slightly higher pitch to her voice, the
tendency to distraction in her manner.

While Lexie, acting a part as she had never acted before, noted the
disappearance of that dangerous expression and began to relax again.

At more or less the same moment as they had approached the pavilion
Fanny had appeared at some distance walking between Mr.  Cresswell and
Lord Dexter, with a group of their friends following on behind.  By
unspoken consent they had waited for the others and met up amidst great
exclamations and enthusiasm over the pleasures of the gardens.

Despite the fact that he knew Fanny had been perfectly safe with Mr.
Cresswell, Storm felt uneasy.  The Viscountess had proved a most
dilatory chaperon.  Could it be that she had planned to trick him into
being compelled to allow a match between the two young people?  He had
not regarded that possibility earlier and had neglected his duty to
Fanny while pursuing his own dalliance.

But it seemed that all was well.  Despite all her arch questions to the
young people, no hint of impropriety on Fanny's part emerged.  Fanny
and Oswald had kept with the others and his own laxity had been of no
consequence.

Fanny, looking flushed and pretty, had arrived back at the pavilion as
she had left it, on Oswald's arm.  But behind her mask her shining eyes
kept straying to the elegant form of Lord Dexter.  Lexie wondered what
had given the child such an air of hidden exaltation, but under the
circumstances nothing untoward could have occurred.  It was, after all,
Fanny's first experience of Vauxhall and its wonders and no doubt this
accounted for her excitement.

As the fireworks began to light up the sky with red, blue, silver and
golden stars, Lexie dismissed a vague uneasiness in favour of living
again those delicious, stolen moments spent in Stormaston's arms.  If
only he could be brought to propose marriage!  She would be the
happiest of creatures.  But the evening had proved him proof against
all her lures.

Having arrived in Stormaston's crested coach, Lexie had little choice
but to return in it and that evening, for various reasons, neither Caro
nor Chalker had accompanied her.  Acutely aware of his presence inches
away, Lexie pressed herself against the side of the carriage and gazed
steadfastly from the window as they traversed the streets back to
Mayfair.

Despite the hour they met plenty of traffic.  After the fresh airiness
of Vauxhall Gardens the coach seemed stuffy but the narrow, odoriferous
streets rendered opening a window unwise.  The weather really was too
hot to remain much longer in Town.  She would have retired to the
country except that she would miss too many of the extraordinary
entertainments planned for that summer.

She did not want to miss the centenary of the Hanoverian succession on
the first day of August, when the Regent's grand jubilee celebrations
would take place and all the royal parks be thrown open to the
people.

Clinging to such thoughts in an effort to take her mind from the awful
possibility that Storm would use their isolation to attempt another
attack on her determination to resist him, Lexie did not speak.  Storm,
immobile beside her, travelled in equal silence and the tension flowed
between them like a web of silken thread, strong, elastic, not easily
broken.  He had been confounded and angered by her refusal to accept
his carte blanche.  What would he do now?

She had grown used to his company.  Without it,

events to which she had been looking forward with pleasure would no
longer appeal.  She did not like to admit how much she had come to rely
on his presence beside her.  For one thing, it kept a host of unwanted,
importunate suitors at bay.

A small sigh escaped her.  Her soliciting of his escort for her own
ends had rebounded with a vengeance.  She should have seen long ago
that an attempt to lure a gentleman possessed of the Marquess's rakish
reputation into matrimony was doomed to failure.  And in the failing
she had lost even his Mendship.

Her cogitations brought no comfort, simply gloom to add to her
mortification.  For if he would not wed her, she would remain a widow.
She would consider no one else as a husband after the joy she had found
in his arms that evening.  She need not be lonely.  She could buy
companionship.  Only weeks ago she had viewed such a prospect with
equanimity, if not pleasure.  But that had been before... Such was her
despondency that, when they arrived in Bruton Street and the Marquess
saw her to her door, bowed and asked at what time he should wait upon
her the following evening, Lexie was taken aback.

She quickly gathered her wits and named an hour.  He bent formally over
her hand in farewell and departed, watched by an astounded Lexie.
Instead of quickly mounting the stairs to her bedroom, she stood rooted
to the spot, watching his cloak swirl about his tall, commanding figure
as the door closed behind him.

Slowly, it dawned upon her that he had not given up his pursuit.  He
anticipated that in the end he would emerge victorious.

So she would not accept defeat, either!  Her hold on him was tenuous,
but it did exist, for her attempts to bring him to a declaration had in
truth succeeded.  Because he still shied at the idea of committing
himself to marriage, he had offered her thetatus he accorded all his
women.

But she was not just one of his women!  One day he would accept the
inevitable.  Dear Lord!  he must, for in truth she doubted she could
live without him as her mate, however unsatisfactory he might turn out
to be as a husband.  Of the alternatives, to become his mistress was
impossible for her and to lose him from her life inconceivable.

She must think of something.

And so the next morning when, not at all to her surprise, Storm met her
in the Park as usual, she behaved as charmingly as she knew how,
totally ignoring the contretemps of the previous evening.  It must be
within her power to fascinate Lord Stormaston into a proposal--of
marriage.  He must now realise that, if he wanted to enjoy intimate
relations with her, he had no other choice.  And her life would be
blighted for ever if she did not succeed.

Storm, chagrined by the rejection of the previous evening, had become
more determined than ever to lure Alexia Hamilton to his bed.  Of one
thing he was now certain beyond all doubt.  Her lightly flirtatious
ways, her air of intrinsic innocence, hid a passionate nature which he
had begun to stir into life.  He doubted whether she knew the depth of
the well of passion within her and he took secret satisfaction at the
prospect of plumbing its depths.

For losing one battle did not mean that he had lost the war.  The
challenge of Alexia Hamilton excited him.  There would be another day,
another occasion.  She must succumb!  No woman's virtue was inviolable,
he had proved that many times, and a few amorous encounters with him
could do her no possible harm.  On past experience, once he had
possessed her his urgent need would die.

Not that he had ever felt quite the same compulsion to possess any
other woman, but his desire could only be a matter of degree.  It might
take him a little longer to slake his thirst with her but... But first
he had to achieve the seduction.

He therefore rode out the next morning determined to use every ounce of
the charm he knew so exactly how to wield.  And did not know whether to
laugh or fume when he discovered her to be employing a similar weapon.
What did the little tease expect to achieve?  Did she think to render
him so addle-witted that he would propose marriage?  She would soon
learn that he had no intention of being enticed into parson's mousetrap
just yet!

If he begot an heir at around the age of forty, he should still live
long enough to train the child and to see him achieve his majority. And
a young girl, absorbed in her duties as wife and mother, would not
interfere with his pursuit of his own life.  Lexie, he knew, was bright
enough and interested enough to want to share his interests: she would
demand more from him than he was willing to give.

His grandmother's voice echoed in his ears but he refused to listen.
Lexie wanted marriage, but had given him no reason to suppose that she
held him in anything but critical regard.  She did not, at bottom,
approve of his manners or behaviour.  Why should she?  Like everyone
else she believed him a rake, beyond redemption.  Why should she even
attempt to look behind the facade he chose to present?

He did not want her to.  Or anyone else for that matter, apart from his
grandmother who knew him too well.  But why, then, did Lexie wish to
become Marchioness of Stormaston?  For the same reasons as all the
other hopefuls he had discarded over the years, in order to become a
Duchess one day and to become wife to one of the richest men in the
country.  Had she shown any sign of affection or tenderness he might,
just, have heeded the Duchess's words.  But she had not.

He smiled at her, a devilish smile that let her know he had guessed her
purpose.  She really was looking remarkably attractive, flushed and
eager, full of life and rigour, up to anything.

Except allowing him to have his way with her.  The smile spread even as
desire made him shift in his saddle.  His resolve deepened.  In a young
girl such reticence was only to be expected.  A widow should not be so
stiff-necked in her attitude to an aft sire outside marriage.  She
probably wouldn't be, he thought grimly, if it weren't for his title
and his money.

Lexie, seeing the dangerous glint in his eye, almost panicked, but her
inherent courage quickly reasserted it selL Whatever he liked to
pretend, the Marquess was not an evil man.  He would do her no true
harm.  Although, of course, he would not consider discreet seduction to
be in any way grievous.

And she had to admit that, shocking as she found his offer of a carte
blanche, all she would lose in the event would be her own integrity.  A
private pain that would not otherwise affect her life in any essential
way.  So she had no great reason to fear the worst Stormaston could
contrive, although his intention remained unchanged.  He would not, she
was certain, force himself upon her.  But he might easily seduce her
were she not constantly on guard.

In this spirit of armed truce they continued their association much as
before.  Lexie took even greater care to have someone else in the
carriage with them and never to be beguiled out to dark terraces or
into empty rooms.  Not that Storm tried excessively hard--he was
behaving with the utmost propriety.  He appeared to be biding his
time.

Meanwhile, their discussions covered all manner of subjects of which
Lexie knew a great deal, having devoured the contents of the Amber
library during her exile at PortheWan and she eagerly absorbed any
information he had to offer.  Storm teased her over what he termed her
magpie mind, which picked up snippets of information to store for
future airing.

They enjoyed visiting exhibitions, the theatre, the opera and musical
evenings together and discussed their merits afterwards.  Despite the
tension running beneath the surface of their relationship, Lexie had
never been happier.  And by the way Storm sometimes smiled at her she
thought him to be enjoying himself, too.  Even his grandmother
remarked.

"I do declare," she said one evening while she and Lexie were alone.
"James has lost much of his air of boredom recently.  Your company is
proving good for him, my dear Lady Alexia.  And he has dismissed that
actress creature from his flat, I hear.  I never could approve his
choice of chdre amies-flighty, dimwitted chits I have always considered
them."

Lexie blushed, but laughed at the Duchess's outspoken words.  "I am
certain you are not supposed to know of their existence, dear ma'am!"

"When the entire ton knows of his affaires, it would be difficult to
keep the information from me, don't you think?  Don't approve of the
boy's behaviour, never did, but he was not allowed to join the army, so
he had to find another outlet for his high spirits."

"They have to sow their wild oats," murmured Lexie with a wry grimace,
remembering the conversation she had overheard between Storm and Hugo.
Storm had lost no time in purchasing one of the many commissions now up
for sale and Hugo was preparing to join his regiment, stationed
somewhere in the north.  "Men are fortunate to be allowed such
licence."

"Women are allowed a certain amount, too, after the heir is born.
That's what all this charade is about, y'know.  Young girls put on show
to catch a prize but sheltered and chaperoned so that there can be no
doubt as to the paternity of the heir.  Blood lines are important,
d'y'see."

Her gaze settled on Fanny, swinging down the centre of a set with a
youthful partner.  "I'd like to see my granddaughter settled," went on
the Duchess with a sigh.  "Pity she.  don't like young Cresswell.
Shan't force her, of course."

"Unwise to do so, ma'am.  It could lead to great unhappiness on both
sides.  He has no wish to form an alliance with your granddaughter.  He
is merely following his mother's orders."

"Fancies himself in love with you, don't he?"

Lexie laughed.  "Fancies is the word.  He is poetically in love with
love and I am a safe object of adoration.  He has no wish to shackle
himself in marriage."

"No more do most young men, more's the pity.  James patronisin" the
card tables tonight?"  demanded

'the Duchess with a sharp glance from her old eyes.

"I believe so."

"Devilish lucky at cards.  There are those who will be sorry to see him
there.  Pleased to see him dancin" attendance on you these last weeks.
They say you're his mistress, but I don't believe "era.  Hasn't he
declared himself yet?"

Now Lexie's face positively flamed.  "He has made it most plain that he
has no thought of marriage," she informed his grandmother tartly.  "We
remain friends, nothing more."

"Humph," said the DuChess, snapping shut her fan.  "D'y'think I'm
blind, young woman?  He's after you and you're holding him off,
although I'd wager you're not indifferent.  Holdin" out for marriage,
though.  Aren't I right?"

Lexie drew a deep breath.  "He does not intend marriage," she informed
Storm's grandmother with rather more bitterness in her tone than she
realised.

"Don't he, now?"  muttered the old lady.  "Young fool."

But she said no more.  She had discovered all she wished to know,
thought Lexie resentfully, and much good might it do her.

Some days later, following a habit equally as reprehensible as riding
alone in Hyde Park, Lexie took her usual afternoon stroll round
Berkeley Square.  She found the solitary walk relaxing after a morning
spent calling, receiving or shopping, and spent the hour before
changing for dinner taking the air.  The open, leafy Square, inhabited
by friends and acquaintances, was an oasis of comparative calm amidst
the crowded streets and mews surrounding it.

She felt quite safe walking beneath the trees and saw no reason to ask
Chalker or a footman to accompany her, however correct such company
would be; After the freedom Amber had allowed her in Cornwall, she
resented the necessity to have someone shadow her all the time.  The
servants had more useful things to do than to walk behind a woman quite
able to take care of herself.

It had been raining earlier and everything sparkled, fresh and clean,
in the sunlight as Lexie left the shade of the trees to return to her
house.  Caro had gone to visit her friend and Lexie had no evening
engagement i that day so she had disrgissed Chalker, telling her maid
to take the evening off, and informed cook that would send down for a
tray as and when she became:': hungry.  So there was no hurry and she
had loitered rather longer than usual.

Someone was throwing a dinner party at an lishment at one end of the
Square and carriages rumbling up to the door as Lexie strolled back
Bruton Street.  When a coach clattered to a her, she barely looked up
until a voice hailed her.

"Lady Amber?  His lordship is asking for you, lady.  Pray come at
once?

Lexie looked at the coach, expensive but plain, crest on the door to
identify the owner.

"His lordship?"  she demanded of the man--a servm evidently--who had
accosted her.

The man bowed with perfect deference.  Marquess of Stormaston, my lady.
I am Marlow, lordship's valet.  He sent me with a most urge
request--'

"Is he ill?"  demanded Lexie, sudden anxiety in h voice.  She did not
know what to make of this sudde most unusual and rather improper
request.  A lady'd not visit a gentleman's rooms unaccompanied,
whatever reason.

"He was most insistent in his orders to me, my lad urged Marlow without
directly answering her question "He instructed me to bring you to him
without delay He has been in low spirits recently, ma'am," went Marlow
less formally.  "I quite despair of bringing it about without your
help."

Storm in low spirits indeed!  He had seem, abstracted and subdued at
the theatre last evening, b she had thought his mood due to the
indifference the acting.  Even if this duel between them was affecting
him as much as it was her, she could see no purp in rushing to his
succour.  Only one thing would ct him of his megrim, and she had no
intention supplying it.

Undecided, Lexie eyed the valet.  She saw a man medium height and
middle age, impeccably attired a very correct in his manner.  Storm
often mentioned 1 man, Marlow.  And, when she looked more closely, s
recognised the Marquess's coachman mounted on t box.  The man
acknowledged her by smiling and touching his hat with his whip.

They would probably do whatever the Marquess told them.  But the
coachman's presence was reassuring.  "Very well," she told Marlow.  "I
will return to inform my staff of my absence and find a footman to
accompany me."

She turned towards Bruton Street, but Marlow's voice stopped her.  He
placed a strong but deferential hand on her arm.  "There is no need, my
lady.  You will not be away long and his lordship was most particular
that I take every care of you.  Will you not allow me to help you into
the coach?"

The thoughts raced round in Lxie's head.  She knew this must be the
Marquess's coach, however incognito, for these were indubitably his
servants, though the horses harnessed to it were a lesser team that she
did not recognise.  He would not send his four famous matched bays if
he did not wish to advertise the ownership of the coach--they were too
well known.  Why he should send for her she could not fathom, but he
would not wish to put her reputation at risk by sending for her
openly.

Her curiosity was aroused.  He might truly need her presence for some
reason but if it were some hoax he was perpetrating upon her, then she
would simply enjoy the joke, walk out and take a hackney back to Bruton
Street.  St.  James's Street was not far away.  Real uneasiness had
left her with the realisation that these men really were Storm's
servants.  She still believed that he meant her no harm.  She would be,
in all essentials, perfectly safe with him.  Besides, she wanted to
know what he was at.

Coming to her decision, Lexie stepped towards the coach, wondering at
the same time what Marlow would do if she refused.  Would he force her
inside?  She did not feel disposed to put that question to the test.
"If his lordship truly needs my presence, for whatever mysterious
reason, then I will come with you," she told him, mounting the step.

Marlow shut the door, raised the step and joined the coachman on the
box.  The carriage, a comfortably sprung, beautifully upholstered
vehicle, moved off.  Lexie sank back into a corner, tense, nervous,
excited and strangely exultant.  Perhaps the weeks of tension and
waiting were over at last.  Storm was making his move.

What a tease he was!  She could not believe he was ill.  Marlow had not
said so.  This was part of his campaign to seduce her, of that she was
becoming more certain every moment.  And the moments were passing. They
should have arrived by now.

Suddenly anxious, Lexie sat up and looked out of the window.  The coach
was moving fast, threading its way through the traffic with speed and
expertise, for the coachman was excellent at his job.  But they were
not headed for St.  James's Street.  She did not recognise the area at
all at first and when she did, she did so with dismay.  Covent Garden.
Not far from Drury Lane.  Where was she being taken?

She tried banging on the roof of the coach, but her urgent rapping
brought no results.  Perhaps they hadn't heard, she had only her
knuckles and the roof was padded on the inside.  But she doubted they
would have stopped even if they had heard.

Not until they reached a respectable back street did the coach pull up,
stopping outside a freshly painted door, which opened from the inside
at their approach.  Marlow jumped down, let down the step and opened
the door for her.

"I will take you to his lordship, my lady.  He is inside," he informed
her, his face completely inscrutable.

Lxie, trying to look as though she had known all along where they were
bringing her, nodded and stepped with dignity towards the open door.

"Thank you, Marlow," she said as she entered what could only be the
flat where the Marquess kept his mistresses.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WHOEVER had opened the door had disappeared by the time Lexie entered.
Marlow led her up a narrow staircase to a flat which must be over the
draper's shop beside the front door.  A small vestibule led through to
a large, well appointed room containing an upholstered settee, several
chairs of varying design, a chaise-longue, a collection of small tables
holding various objects, a glass-fronted cupboard displaying pieces of
ornamental china, a whatnot, and a writing table upon which sat a
dainty pen and inkstand filled with quills and ink.  Expensive rugs
covered the floor and striped drapes dressed the windows.

Altogether a charming, feminine apartment, thought Lexie, cosy in
winter when the fire was lit, but quite lacking in any trace of
masculine occupation.  Storm could not spend much time here.  He "must
simply make brief visits to an available woman.

Gall rose in her throat.  How dared he bring her to this place?  For
there could be no doubt that this was the flat so recently occupied by
that Hermione woman, the actress he had been keeping as his mistress.

And where was he?  She turned to ask Marlow, but he had withdrawn.  She
was about to investigate further when, beneath the window, she heard
the rattle of carriage wheels, the clatter of horses" hooves on the
cobbles.  She looked out and drew a quite audible breath of distress,
for she saw the carriage which had brought her disappearing round the
nearest corner.

She heard a deep chuckle behind her.  "So you came.  I thought you
would be unable to resist the challenge,

my dear," came the familiar drawling voice.

Lexie spun round.

"The carriage!"  was all she could gasp as she looked into devilish
blue eyes sparkling with mischief and something more, which seemed to
wrap her in heat.

"Do not disturb, yourself, my love."  His voice came soothing, gentle.
"Grimshaw will return to convey you home when called."

Lexie met the flare in those eyes, the eyes of the rake she knew him to
be, and called upon all her strength to resist him.

"Why did you send for me?  Why bring me here?"  she demanded
fiercely--for anger was her only defence--before noticing that his
lordship's bare legs could be glimpsed beneath a long dressing robe of
maroon satin with black lapels and girdle.  Despite her resolution, her
voice faltered as doubt crept into her mind.  "Are you unwell, as
Marlow implied?  Have you been confined to bed?"

"By no means," said Storm with a predatory smile.  Lexie swallowed.
They might well have been back in Vauxhall except that here she felt
completely vulnerable.  If only the correct, teasing yet perfect
gentleman who had squired her to so many functions recently would
reappear!  This devilish male creature she did not trust an inch.

"He said you needed me," she said faintly.  He was coming nearer, his
intention more plain with every step he took.  She backed away,
exclaiming, "I suspected the summons was a ruse!  How dared you se for
me in that underhand way, sir?

"Yet you came!"  His grin was wolfish.  "And I do need you, my lady,"
he returned plaintively.  "I have need you in my bed this age.  And
you, and I mistake nc he went on seductively, "entertain a desire to be
there

Lexie, his heat suffusing her body, longing to throw herself into his
arms, clenched her fingers into fists.  She must resist him!  "You are
impertinent, sir!"

His dark brows lifted above those all-seeing, fl ari blue eyes.  "Is it
now impertinent to speak the trutl Lexie, my love, stop prevaricating.
You are no green girl but an experienced woman.  We want each oth

What is to stop us indulging our desire?"

"I am not your love!"  gulped Lexie.

"Through no fault of mine," he pointed c reasonably.

Lexie ploughed on, ignoring his words.  "A matter right and wrong must
stop us, sir!  I possess mora even if you do not!"  She began to
tremble as he reach.  out to pull her towards him.  "We are not wedl A
union between us would be a sin!"

His voice caressed her as his fingers kneaded h shoulders in a soothing
rhythm.  "You believe it wou take a few words intoned over us by a
parson to make expressing the feelings between us legal?"

"The Church and Society--" began Le desperately.

"May pronounce disapproval, but cannot make the deed wrong.  Any more
than they can, in my opinic make the compelled union of two completely
inco: patible persons right.  What of a bride forced to endu the
attentions of a man she loathes?  Do the parson's words make that
morally right?"

"They have been married before God," uttered Lexie faintly, resting her
hands, partly in protest, partly in surrender, against his broad chest,
for at last he held her close and was busy removing her bonnet.  "A
husband has rights his wife cannot deny."

Storm smothered an expletive.  "There lies your sin!  No woman should
be coerced into a marriage where such a possibility exists," he opined
forcefully.  "Married before God or not, the joining of a man and a
woman should be a matter of desire between them."

In her heart, Lexie knew he was right.  She should never have had to
endure the attentions of Amber, kind and considerate as he had been. It
had been like going to bed with her grandfather.  She shuddered at the
memory and felt Storm's arms tighten about her.  Yet she could not have
refused her husband, he had had the legal right to use her body as he
willed.  And, in fairness, she had, however reluctantly, chosen to wed
him.  No one had thrashed or starved her into submission.

"What is it, my dear?"

The gentle concern in his voice told her he had not mistaken her
shudder for either desire or revulsion.  He was experienced enough to
recognise desire and of one thing at least he could be certain:.  he
did not repulse her!

"Nothing," she lied.  "But, Storm, I cannot agree to what you wish."

"Can you not?"  he murmured in teasing tones as he swept her into his
arms.

His movements had loosened the girdle about his waist and the silk of
his robe slipped apart.  Lexie's breath caught at sight of the muscles
revealed, the dusting of dark hair giving him an appearance of virility
Amber had lacked.  His sparse hair had been grey.  She had had no
desire to explore his old body but he had taught her where he liked to
be touched and, to please him, she had complied.

Of its own volition her hand reached out to feel the roughness of
Storm's body hair; her finger sought the nipple it only partly
concealed.

At her touch, Storm sucked in his breath as he carried her through to
the bedchamber.  She heard the heart beneath her ear begin to hammer
and snatched her hand away.  This would would never do!

As he set her on her feet again, she vaguely took in a vast bed hung
with creamy silken drapes, a large kidney-shaped dressing table with
triple mirrors and matching hangings, frilly curtains and a full-length
cheval mirror.  Then Storm's fingers began to remove her gown with the
expertise of someone quite used to undressing a woman.

She should stop him but her will had fled with the strength in her
limbs.  Dear God, why did his touch have such a devastating effect upon
her?  He hadn't even kissed her yet and she was like day in his
hands!

Her gown dropped to the floor and Storm flung off his robe to reveal
the full glory of his strong, beautiful, roused body.  After that she
had eyes for nothing else but him as he followed her down on the bed
and began to loosen the ties of her chemise.

When he was like this, tender, teasing, yet betraying controlled
passion, she could deny him nothing!  Her body opened, rose
instinctively to meet his.  But even as he lifted himself above her she
caught a breath of unfamiliar perfume still lingering in the drapes of
the bed.

That woman's!

What was she thinking of!  She could not, simply could not make love
with Storm in this bed, in the flat where he had entertained his other
women!

"No!"  she gasped, pushing at his chest, struggling to release herself
from beneath him.  "No, Storm!  I am not one of your light skirts to be
taken in your love-nest like some cheap actress!  Do not force me!"

For an instant Storm did not move, held still while he controlled his
breathing.  Then he lifted himself from her and, back turned, flung on
his discarded robe.

"I have never yet had need to force a woman, madam," he informed her
icily, frustration clipping his words in a totally unfamiliar way.  "I
am persuaded that I shall survive well enough without the gift of your
valuable favours."

In her distress Lexie fumbled to fasten her chemise, bent to rescue her
gown, tried to find the opening, the sleeves, to pull it over her head.
It was so long since she had dressed herself!  His words brought her
efforts to a trembling halt.

She had lost him now!  "Oh," she cried.  "Are you so without feeling
that you cannot understand, Storm?  Or are your desires the only things
that matter to you?  Your morals the only ones you can comprehend?"

The tears began to stream down her face unheeded as she at last managed
to insert her arms into her gown and attempted to reach the fastenings
down the back.  "I certainly cannot--'

"You have no finer feelings at all!  To mortify me so by bringing me
here, to this place where you have kept your cheap women!"

Storm frowned and, for the first time, looked slightly less than
self-assured.  "Most were far from cheap," he muttered wryly, then
added, "My dear Lexie, I merely sought to preserve your reputation.
Here, you are unlikely to be recognised.  I considered it a safe place
for our tryst."

"Tryst!"  almost screamed Lexie, scrubbing at the tears she had
previously ignored.  How could she be so weak as to let him see how
much he had hurt her!  "This was no tryst!  Abduction would be a better
description of the means you used to lure me here!  I had not agreed to
meet you!  But Marlow was persuasive, I thought he was escorting me to
St.  James's--'

"Had he done so your reputation would have been in shreds!"  pointed
out Storm coldly.  "No lady walks or drives down that street with
impunity!  Did you think me so shabby as to lay you open to abuse by
every gabble-grinder in London?"

"I did not think," admitted Lexie more calmly.  "But that does not
excuse you for bring' rag me.  here and attempting to seduce me when I
have rejected your carte blanche!  And now, if you please, call
Grimshaw to return me to my home!"

Storm had pulled on pantaloons beneath his gown.  Now he removed it to
don a shirt, which he tucked in at the waist but left unfastened.  No
doubt Marlow would dress him properly before he departed.  Lexie only
hoped that she looked respectable enough not to cause undue comment
when she reached Bruton Street.  She still had not fastened her bodice,
and her hair must look a terrible mess.

as he lifted himself above her she caught a breath of unfamiliar
perfume still lingering in the drapes of the bed.

That woman's!

What was she thinking of!  She could not, simply could not make love
with Storm in this bed, in the flat where he had entertained his other
women!

"NoV she gasped, pushing at his chest, struggling to release herself
from beneath him.  "No, Storm!  I am not one of your light skirts to be
taken in your love-nest like some cheap actress!  Do not force me!"

For an instant Storm did not move, held still while he controlled his
breathing.  Then he lifted himself from her and, back turned, flung on
his discarded robe.

"I have never yet had need to force a woman, madam," he informed her
icily, faust ration clipping his words in a totally unfamiliar way.  "I
am persuaded that I shall survive well enough without the gift of your
valuable favours."

In her distress Lexie fumbled to fasten her chemise, bent to rescue her
gown, tried to find the opening, the sleeves, to pull it over her head.
It was so long since she had dressed herselfl His WOrds brought her
efforts to a trembling halt.

She had lost him now!  "Oh," she cried.  "Are you so without feeling
that you cannot understand, Storm?  Or are your desires the only things
that matter to you?  Your morals the only ones you can comprehend?"

The tears began to stream down her face unheeded as she at last managed
to insert her arms into her gown and attempted to reach the fastenings
down the back.  "I certainly cannot--'

"You have no finer feelings at all!  To mortify me so by bringing me
here, to this place where you have kept your cheap women!"

Storm frowned and, for the first time, looked slightly less than
self-assured.  "Most were far from cheap," he muttered wryly, then
added, "My dear Lexie, I merely sought to preserve your reputation.
Here, you are unlikely to be recognised.  I considered it a safe place
for our tryst."

"Tryst!"  almost screamed Lexie, scrubbing at the tears she had
previously ignored.  How could she be so weak as to let him see how
much he had hurt her!  "This was no tryst!  Abduction would be a better
description of the means you used to lure me here!  I had not agreed to
meet you!  But Marlow was persuasive, I thought he was escorting me to
St.  James's--'

"Had he done so your reputation would have been in shreds!"  pointed
out Storm coldly.  "No lady walks or drives down that street with
impunity!  Did you think me so shabby as to lay you open to abuse by
every gabble-grinder in London?"

"I did not think," admitted Ixie more calmly.  "But that does not
excuse you for bringing me.  here and attempting to seduce me when I
have rejected your carte blanche!  And now, if you please, call
Grimshaw to return me to my home!"

Storm had pulled on pantaloons beneath his gown.  Now he removed it to
don a shirt, which he tucked in at the waist but left unfastened.  No
doubt Marlow would dress him properly before he departed.  Lexie only
hoped that she looked respectable enough not to cause undue comment
when she reached Bruton Street.  she still had not fastened her bodice,
and her hair must look a terrible mess.

Unexpectedly, Storm smiled, and led the way through to the
sitting-room.  Lexie, glad to escape the close proximity of that bed,
quickly followed.  Storm handed her her bonnet.

"Since I was so remiss as to remove your gown, allow me to fasten it
for you, madam."

His nimble fingers at her back shook Lexie to the core.  Oh, why could
he not woo her respectably?

Storm noted her quick breathing, the fluttering pulse in her neck, the
feverish light in her eyes, and cursed her scruples.  He could not
resist the gentle kiss he placed in the sweet curve of her neck but
regretted his impulse the moment he felt her whole body stiffen.

Secretly he honoured her for her principles.  Society was loose in its
morality, few members of the ton being quite the whited sepulchres they
pretended.  From the Prince Regent down, men and women indulged in
numerous affaires; few behaved in private with the decorum they
enjoined in public.  Those noted Patronesses of A!mack's, Lady Jersey
and Lady Cowper, both had lovers.  But then, like so many others, they
had been married to men they did not love for dynastic and financial
reasons.

He had, following his own code, always avoided such a marriage.  He
would demand faithfulness in a wife.  Whether he would be able to
return the compliment he rather doubted.  He could not imagine the
woman able to satisfy him for the remainder of his life.

He finished his task, lifted Lexie's chin" with gentle fingers and
brushed her lips with his own.  And then startled both himself and her
by saying, "I apologise for my treatment of you, Lexie, my dear.  I
should have realised how sincerely you meant your refusal at

Vauxhall.  But please do not run away so soon.  Marlow is an excellent
cook and is preparing our repast.  Will you not remain and enjoy it?"

Seeing her shaken, almost fearful look, hand on heart he added hastily
and sincerely, "I promise to behave!"  And smiled his most wicked,
teasing smile.

An apology and an olive branch.  Lexie's heart melted.  He could be
both wicked and generous.  That must be how he managed to seduce so
many women to his bidding.  Instinctively, she had known he would never
truly harm her, never force her against her will.  Otherwise she would
not have entered his coach.

Surely she could be as generous, accept his apology and forgive his
treatment of her?  Apart from her own inclination to fall into his arms
and forget scruples, the world, and every responsibility, she would be
safe.  And she was quite capable of resisting her own emotions.  She
had already proved that.

So, "Very well," she accepted.  "I must confess to being sharp set and
whatever it is that Marlow is preparing smells delicious.  Thank you,
Storm.  I will stay a while, although I could never feel truly
comfortable here in this place.  But I must be back before Caro and
Chalker return, so that I am not missed."

He nodded and moved to pour her a glass of sherry.  As he handed it to
her he said, "I intended to return you in good time."

Lexie accepted the glass while giving him a fleeting, suspicious glance
before hurriedly averting her eyes.  She did not trust herself to look
too long on the magnificent physique displayed beneath that open shirt
without weakening.  His garb was quite indecent but so alluring.  She
suppressed a smile.  Rakish, in fact.  "You knew they would both be
absent this evening?"

"And that you had no engagement.  That you often walked in Berkeley
Square before dressing for dinner, I already knew.  Cousin Cato
informed me of hers and your maid's plans while I was waiting for you
yesterday.  The opportunity to lure you here seemed too good to miss.
I fell into temptation," he confessed with a wry smile, a lift of one
dark brow, and overdone contrition.

Lexie thought the best thing to do was to laugh.  "You almost made me
fall, too, my lord?  She drank some of the wine, which seemed to loosen
her tongue.  "I would not have come had I not trusted you, in the end,
to behave as a genre man should."

"I am flattered.  You do not, then, entirely believe in my reputation
as a rakehell?"

Lexie smiled.  "I believe that in public you hide behind a mask, my
lord.  In private, I have often glimpsed the essential gentleman
concealed beneath.  Besides, your grandmother would not be so fond of
you were you as bad as you are.  sometimes painted."

He regarded her quizzically.  "And that is why you consented to my
escort, despite the gossip our constant appearances in public together
has generated?"  She nodded and he went on, "Were my intentions known
to be honourable, we would already be as good as betrothed, Since they
are.  extremely suspect, you in their opinion, undoubtedly be my
mistress."

"I know, but gossip without foundation has little sting.  Were it to be
known that I had been here, even though nothing dishonourable has
actually happened, I would be branded a harlot."  She met his eyes
boldly;

SARA WFTL pounds "My chances of contracting a felicitous marriage to an
honourable gentleman would be quite gone."

"Do you wish for marriage again?"  asked Storm interestedly.

Lexie drank the last of her sherry and then studied the glass in her
hand with a slight flown.  "Yes," she answered honestly.  "But only wed
to a man who can be lover, companion and friend.  I should like," she
added wistfully, "to fall in love.  if I do not find such a creature,
then I shall be content to remain a widow.  I have my freedom and
sufficient means.  I will not surrender those precious things merely in
order to satisfy my longing for a family."

She had, she realised too late, opened her heart to him.  And he had
made no reply.  She risked a quick glance and saw that his brow was now
marred by a slight frown.  His lazy lids covered his eyes and his
studied air of casual, indolent ease had been replaced by one of
concentration.  She wondered what he could be thhnking.

He was wondering, in truth, why he did not propose matrimony there and
then.  And knew it was because he could not risk hurting such a jewel
as Alexia Hamilton by the transgressions he would undoubtedly
perpetrate at some later date.  She would expect, nay, demand,
fidelity, which he could not offer.  So he would offer nothing.

He was saved the" trouble of answering her by the timely entry of
Marlow to announce that dinner was ready to be served.

"Bring it in!"  ordered Storm, relaxing again.  "Lady Alexia, will you
sit here?"  As Lexie took her place at the small, intimate table laid
for two, she thought how wonderful it would be if only they could live
like this, without ceremony, sharing the intimacy of companionship,
friendship--and love.

But Storm had not reacted to her indiscretion save by that slight frown
of concentration.  And as the meal progressed and the atmosphere became
easy she forgot everything else in the joy of sharing the company of so
entertaining, considerate a companion.

With Storm on his very best behaviour--apart froth the occasional
glance from desirous eyes--she even managed to forget the real reason
for her being there and the past history of the cosy flat.  Only when,
the platters empty, Storm called Marlow to summon the carriage, was the
true nature of her presence brought home to her again.

Then she could not leave fast enough.  But, it seemed, he was still
escorting her to the theatre the following evening.

"We must not feed the gabble-grinders more grist to their mill," he
remarked calmly.  "I shall continue to escort you to those functiqns
you choose to attend."

Nothing had changed.  EXcept that everything had changed.

She was hopelessly in love and did not know how she was to bear his
constant attendance on her without giving herself away.

Lexie thought and thought.  Somehow, the deadlock between them must be
broken.  It was, after all, mostly convention that coloured her
morality and prevented her from casting prudence to the winds and
agreeing to his offered carte blanche.  That and an instinctive desire
to know the man she loved would be hers for life.  A mistress could be
cast off at any moment.  A wife could not so easily be set aside.

She saw rather less of Storm over the next week, since she chose to
accept fewer invitations.  When he did escort her he behaved with
punctilious correctness, his languid manner and drawling speech never
more in evidence.  He had withdrawn behind his mask.  Lexie ached to
penetrate it again.

But Prinny's festivities were a must and Storm was taking her in his
curricle, with his tiger up behind to act as chaperon.  Caro,
frightened of crowds, refused to be cajoled into accompanying them.

"It is high time his lordship declared himself," she grumbled,
fluttering her fan, for the weather was sultry.  "You have allowed him
to make a spectacle of you all the Season, Alexia," she went on
querulously, and soon, no doubt he will retire to his estates and
forget all about you!  You have not made the most of your chances, my
dear."  Cato, who had been quite won over by the Marquess's charm,
added, with a languishing sigh, "I always mistrusted the wisdom of your
association with that rake."

Lexie spread her hands, mischief lighting her features deSPite her
broken heart.  "Confess, you have always wished you were in my shoes,
Carol He is not so very bad a rake, after all.  He is too much of a
gentleman."

"But he has compromised you without being honour-able enough to offer
for you, it seems!  Despite his reputation, he would make you a fine
husband, Alexia.  Can you do nothing to bring him to the point?"

Assiduously studying a slightly ragged nail, "It seems not, Cousin,"
said Lexie.  "Always assuming I have tried."

"You are no more than a foolish chit if you have not!  Your reputation
is almost in shreds..."

Caro's indignant censure amused rather than offended Lexie, She looked
up and grinned.  "Do not concern yourself over me.  We are still
received in the most austere of drawing-rooms!"

"But if his lordship casts you off--'

"Stop prating, Cousin!  I am used to being the object of the latest on
dits.  We shall be retiring to Merryfield next week and people will
soon forget the scandals of the Season.  My present aberrations will be
history by next year."

"Unless you return to London and continue with your rackety ways.  Then
the gossip will start all over again," wailed Caro.

"It scarcely affects yoU, Cousin, so do not refine over it," said Lexie
tartly.  Caro's lamentations were chafing her raw nerves.  "Think of
Merryfield and how much we shall enjoy the fresh country air?

Thinking of Merryfield an idea entered her head, so bold and outrageous
that for a moment it stopped her breath.  She had been recalling the
pleasure of driving Pitch and Tar around the estate roads, racing them
as she had been used to do in Cornwall.  And an audacious plan formed
in her mind.

"The Duke of Wellington is leaving Town soon, to take up his post as
Ambassador in Paris.  Once he has gone, London will empty.  We will
hold a house party of our own," she declared with sudden decision.  "In
fact, Caro, it would be most beneficial if you were to go on ahead to
consult with Mrs.  Panning, open up the house and prepare it for the
guests.  Mrs.  Walker and Mr.  Dymock will accompany me down, and as
many of the staff as you think necessary."

The plan had an added advantage.  She could well do without Cousin
Caro's fussing and refining over her while she remained in Town her
selL

"How many guests did you have in mind?"  asked Cato, her eyes beginning
to gleam, all cares forgotten in anticipation of this new enterprise.
She would be in her element at Merryfield planning a house party.

"I don't know," admitted Lexie slowly.  "I must make a list of those I
wish to invite and then send out the invitations.  As soon as possible,
I should think, so that our guests may travel straight down."

"Will they not have already planned to go to Brighton or Eastbourne for
sea bathing or to Bath to take the waters?"  objected Cato anxiously.

"Not those I would wish to invite, I think," said Lexie thoughtfully.
She had heard no mention of the Duchess doing anything other than
returning straight to her husband and the Downshire estates in Kent,
taking Fanny with her.

Storm, she knew, would make speedy tracks for Stormaston House, his
favourite residence, which he spoke of with real affection but which
she had yet to see.  An invitation for her to go there would give her
so much delight... But he would never be so foolish as to invite her to
his home unless... She cut her daydreams short as a waste of time and
emotional energy.  Her own plans had to be laid.

For propriety's sake, she would have to include a few others, of
course, the Duke for one, whom she had never met, though she doubted he
would be persuaded to come.  Storm's friend, Felix St.  Clare, who had
become her own dear friend must be asked, for Fanny's sake, if for no
other, for Lexie was quite certain they were fond of each other.

Oswald Cresswell, too, whom she rather liked and felt sorry for.  His
boyish devotion acted as an antidote to Storm's aggressive, sexual
pursuit.  She could bask in the young man's adoration without fear of
any untoward consequences.  But what about his mother?

She did not, for Fanny's sake, want the Viscountess there to bully her
son into pursuing a lost cause.  Lady Wighton might allow her son to
come alone.  She would try to arrange it, for his sake.  He needed to
escape his mother's leading strings.

There was a girl, one of those who had been at Vauxhall, what was her
name?  Melissa Daventry, that was it.  Miss,"Daventry cherished a tend
re for Oswald and would ladly come if she knew he was to be there.  She
would ring her duenna, of course.  They would all bring servants.
Merryfield Would be full of life and laughte/r/for the first time since
she had inherited it.

Excitement surged through Lexie.  She would make her list but she would
not issue the invitations until after the Centenary celebrations.  For
it was during those that she intended to make her bid to engage the
Marquess of Stormaston, that acknowledged gamester, who would bet on
the most ridiculous of things if challenged, in a wager that would
settle the matter of her future status in his life.

She could not allow things to go on as they were.  She would end up a
diminished wreck.  Her gowns were already hanging loosely upon her. She
must settle matters once and for all and then set about living
contentedly, whatever the result.

She dressed carefully for the great day, choosing a becoming outfit in
the latest fashion comprising a sky blue petticoat with braces, worn
over a white spencer-ideal for walking in the summer heat.  A large
bonnet with matching ribbons tied Under her chin covered most of her
golden curls.  Half-boots completed her toilet, for the ground was
bound to be somewhat damp and she anticipated leaving the curricle to
enjoy the promised spectacles.

"You look a perfect picture?  exclaimed Cato as Lexie presented herself
for inspection, flourishing a matching parasol.  "But isn't the waist
of your gown a little low?"

"Waistlines have been dropping for several years, Cousin.  You," teased
Lexie, eyeing her companion's sprigged muslin and accompanying drapes
affectionately, 'are old fashioned?

"I am too old to change my style now," fluttered Caro anxiously.  "Do
you think I should?"

"Not at all," assured Lexie.  "You have no one but yourself to
please."

"Thank goodness the morning rain has stopped.  Do have a nice time,
dear," said Caro.  "I am so glad you have the protection of a
gentleman.  You will need it amongst all those crowds."

Lexie, remembering a previous time when she had ventured alone into the
crowds and been rescued by Storm, could do nothing but agree.  It was
so infinitely reassuring to be able to rely upon his strength.  But
today, win or lose, her dice must be thrown.  He would agree to her
proposition or he would not.  If he did, Cato could be despatched to
Merryfield on the morrow and there, she herself would have one final
chance to fulfill her dearest wish, to win him as her husband.

He knew now that she would not respond to any illicit advances on his
part and so she felt secure in accepting only his tiger, Bill Trappin,
as chaperon.  Of course, the tiger's presence would be a mere gesture
toward the proprieties, but that no longer concerned her.  They were to
join friends by the Serpentine and her entire day would be coloured by
finding the right opportunity to lay down her wager.

Storm was dressed as though for riding, in buff pantaloons and shining
hessians topped by a snuff-coloured jacket.  A large, reassuring
umbrella reposed behind the seat of the curricle with the basket of
food she had anticipated, for they did not intend to return before
darkness fell.

'in case the rain returns," explained Storm with a grin.

"I do hope it does not!  Just think of all these crowds getting
soaked!"  said Lexis, eyeing the orderly throng spreading over the
grass of Hyde Park as they entered the gates, having avoided the
congestion in Piccadilly and elsewhere.

Storm was forced to drive slowly and carefully, threading his way
through the crowds of pedestrians as well as other carriages and the
many equestrians.  People milled everywhere: eating their food,
climbing trees, patronising the many gaming, drinking and other
entertainment booths erected on the grass.

Lexie eyed his matched, almost pure white greys with a critical eye.
She could not fault them.  Mettlesome, reputedly prime goers, Storm had
won a number of curricle races with them put to.  But Pitch and Tar
were equally fine cattle.  She knew how fast they could travel, knew
her own ability to drive them to an inch.  Yes, win or lose, it would
be worth the risk.

Before long they had to abandon the curricle.

"I fear we must walk from here," apologised Storm, swinging himself to
the ground.  Trappin ran to the horses" heads and Storm assisted Lexie
t descend.  His hands on her waist were firm and warm.  She shivered.
"Trappin," went on Storm, "I trust you to return my cattle safely to
their stables.  After that, you may take the rest of the day off."

"But your hamper, my lord!"  cried Trappin, scandalised at the idea of
his master demeaning himself by carrying it himself.

"I'm sure this boy will be only too pleased to carry it and the
umbrella down to the Serpentine," said Storm, picking up his
silver-mounted stick and beckoning the child towards him.  "Will you
not, my lad?"

"Do any rink fera tanner, yer lordship!"  grinned the cheeky
youngster.

"A tanner it shall be."

Lexie saw the boy's grin, a response to Storm's easy manner.  Most of
the nobility assumed a lofty air when dealing with inferiors.  But not
Storm.

When they finally reached the water's edge and found their friends,
Storm paid off the lad, leaving the impedimenta with the others"
servants.

While he was engaged in making these arrangements, Lexie, having
greeted the other members of their party, stared wide-eyed at the
display on the water.  The Serpentine had become an ocean on which
sailed a fleet of miniature ships of the line, from three-deckers with
up to seventy guns protruding from their ports, to lightly armed,
graceful, fast-sailing frigates, all fully rigged.

"Just one of the Regent's grand flights of fancy.  A representation of
the battle of the Nile.  An awesome sight were they real and not ships"
barges dressed up!"  came Storm's comment from her side.

"I saw such a fleet once, off Cornwall.  Distant, of course, sailing
for Plymouth or Portsmouth, I suppose.  But at the time it appeared a
reassuring sight."

"Returning from blockade duty off Brest, I dare say," said Storm,
offering his sleeve.  "Shall we stroll along the bank?"

"Oh, yes, do let us!"  cried Fanny, overhearing.  "Come, Lord Dexter,
Mr.  Cresswell!  Do join us!"

Unable to evade the unwelcome company, Storm accepted the situation
with grace.

"Miss Dayentry!"  called Lexie.  "Will you not walk with us?"

Melissa Dayentry accepted with confused alacrity.  Lexie found herself
walking with Felix while Storm, swinging his stick, escorted Melissa,
leaving Fanny and Oswald to accompany each other.  But conversation was
general and partners quickly changed, more than once.  Lexie had no
opportunity for private converse with Storm.

The afternoon progressed.  They ate their refreshments sitting on horse
blankets on the damp ground before walking through to St.  James's
Park, hung even by day with coloured lanterns, to find a band playing
so that the populace could dance.  A huge Chinese bridge and a pagoda,
seven storeys high, lit by gas, caused astonished interest and
admiration.

After a while, "You are, I collect, able to walk back?"  asked Storm of
the company in general.  He had, with natural authority, assumed
command of the expedition.  "The sun has already almost set.  We should
make our way through to Green Park if we want to see the climax to the
day's events.  It is there that the Regent has really excelled
himself."

The rather large party had, before its arrival before Buckingham House,
split into several smaller groups, each attended by chaperons and
servants.  Storm and his immediate party arrived in time to see a
hot-air balloon ascend from the platform especially built for it.  The
Regent and his guests were watching from the Royal Pavilion erected for
the purpose but, "We can see better from here!"  cried Lexie.

Up the balloon majestic allyl soared, dropping coloured parachutes,
weighted at the bottom, which floated down amongst the happy, cheering
throng.  The balloon drifted off and was presently lost to sight.

"It will land safely, won't it?"  asked Fanny anxiously.

"One can only hope so," said Felix, giving her arm a reassuring
squeeze, which brought a blush to Fanny's cheeks.

"But look!"  cried Lexie, "Just look at that castle!"

"I am told it is one hundred and thirty feet high," said Storm dryly.
"It is symbolic, you know, a Castle of Discord and a Temple of Peace.
The Prince designed most of it him selL

"I am quite looking forward to the staging of the storming of
Badajoz!"

"You sound quite bloodthirsty for a poet," Lexie teased Oswald.  His
mother had not come.  This seemed to be one of those rare occasions
when the young people were allowed to play without much attempt to
chaperon them.  Fanny's maid and Melissa's duenna had accompanigd them,
ready to intervene but otherwise keeping well in the background.

"Poems have been written about it!"  protested Oswald, affronted.

"I wonder what His Grace the Duke of Wellington will think," ventured
Melissa shyly.  "I can see him sitting in the pavilion with the
Prince."

"He will consider the whole show to be in bad taste, I should imagine,"
remarked Storm.

"Why?"  demanded Lexie.  "The representation is put on in his honour?

"But so many of the ordinary men who were the real heroes, those who
survived, are now reduced to begging in the streets.  Just like the
veterans of the Nile.  We do not treat our soldiers and sailors well
once the need for their services is OVer."

A momentary silence dosnded on the party.  Not one of them had escaped
the sight of poor maimed wretches with their begging bowls.  Even those
discharged fit were often reduced to begging or crime to keep body and
soul together.  And Chelsea was full of still others waiting de
mobilisation lounging about the streets reeling with drink or squatting
on the steps of the public houses.

"Nelson tried to do something and Wellington will, too," said Felix
seriously.  But remember, most of the ordinary soldiers and seamen were
recruited from the gutter.  It will be no change for them to return to
it."

"But after serving their country--" began Lexie, frowning, only to be
cut off short by Fanny.

"Today is a day of rejoicing!  Do not let us refine over problems we
can do nothing about!"

"Well said, little sister," drawled Storm.  "Leave such problems to
those who have the power."

Yet Lexie could detect an undercurrent of anger in his languid voice.
She looked at him quickly and saw the emotion reflected in his eyes.
"You have a seat in the House of Lords," she reminded him softly.

"But no wish to engage in national politics," he returned, equally
quietly.  "Running my estates efficiently and seeing to the welfare of
my people is more than enough to keep me occupied."

"They are starting?  cried Fanny excitedly.

A battery of Congreve's rockets fired into the air, lighting the sky
before descending in sheets of fire.  Maroons went off, mines exploded.
Redcoats, their faces blackened, crept through the fast descending
darkness with bayonets glinting.  Men dressed as Frenchmen stood waving
their arms on the battlements of the Castle of Discord.  Over in Hyde
Park four of the Nile ships burnt with vivid flame and black smoke,
while the swans screeched in protest.

The show went on for an age and the party wondered what more the Regent
could possibly offer, but the entertainment was designed to go on until
midnight.  As the hour arrived, a deafening explosion mad everyone
jump.

The canvas walls of the Castle of Discord lifted t reveal the Temple of
Peace, with its mock columns rainbows, vestal virgins and pictures
painted on trans.  parent silk depicting the Golden Age Restored

Coloured lamps lit the scene, water flowed from the mouths of mock
lions while fireworks shot skywards and guardsmen held aloft the Royal
Standard where, earlier, the mock French soldiers had been seen.  Peace
had triumphed over war and destruction.

"A worthy sentiment," murmured Storm.

"Oh, look!  cried Melissa.  "Whatever can be causing that great
blaze?"

Despite the distance, it was clear to see that something other than the
ships on the Serpentine had caught fire.  A sort of rumble rippled over
the crowd, bringing the news that the Chinese Pagoda had gone up in
flames.  Most people seemed to think it was all part of the Regent's
planned spectacular but Storm shook his head.

"I doubt it.  I imagine the gas lamps have set it ablaze.  But come, it
is time we all returned home.  Mr.  Cresswell, you will no doubt see
that Lady Fanny, her maid and the Duchess's servants reach Downshire
House safely.  Felix, I leave the escorting of Miss Dayentry and her
chaperon to you."

Murmurs of assent follog, ed, though both Fanny and Melissa looked
disappointed.

"I'm glad the Regent put on such a splendid show!"  said Lexie stoutly
as she and Storm detached themselves from the others in order to thread
their way through the streets back to her residence.  "London has never
known such a celebration!  The crowds have enjoyed every minute of the
day!"

"You have, I collect," murmured Storm with an indulgent grin.

"Yes," admitted Lexie.  She had, in the end, quite forgotten her need
for a private word with Storm.  "Did you not enjoy it, too?"

"This kind of entertainment is not normal fare for rakes like Felix and
me," explained Storm.

"Then why did you agree to come?"

"Ah, now that is an excellent question.  I came t offer you my escort.
It is, after all, what I have been doing these past weeks.  Felix, I
believe, came to len, me his support.  Normally, wild horses would not
hay dragged us to an extravaganza of this sort."

"I do not believe you!"  protested Lexie, seeing the twitch of his
mobile mouth.  "You are barn ming me!  N one wished to miss the
occasion!"

"Ah, but most of Society saw fit to watch from the comfort of a
pavilion, To think," he added self-righ eously, "that I could have been
enjoying the sigh!

from the Royal Pavilion but for my promise to you!."  "Would you have
gone?"

Storm shook his head, grinning ruefully.  "No.  I hay little liking for
being confined on such an occasion."

"You were strolling the streets when the Allie Sovereigns arrived,"
remembered Lexie.

"So I was.  At least we have that much in commo A sense of wishing to
escape the confines of our mine once in a while."

"We have more than that in common," said Lex slowly.  Now, surely, was
her moment.  She stopped drawing him to a halt beside her.  They had
reach Piccadilly and one of the new gas lamps lit her ear ne features
as she gazed up into Storm's face.  "We bo" enjoy a challenge.  I have
a wager to offer you,"

CHAPTER EIGHT

"A WAGER?"

Storm's brows rose in surprise, as well they might,

thought Lexie, almost losing her courage.

"Yes."

Carriages rattled along the road, people swarmed past on foot, homeward
bound.  Hardly an appropriate place to hold the discussion yet,
essentially, they were alone for the first time that day.  Noises,
odour, the presence of others, faded into the background as Lexie
waited apprehensively for Storm's response.

"And what would the subject of this wager be?"  Storm's tone was as
languid as she had ever heard it and her heart sank still further in
the direction of her half-boots.

"A curricle race."  Lexie dropped her hand from his arm.  Why was she
having 7o much difficulty in saying what she had to say, she v/ondered
despairingly.  What had seemed such a good idea in theory had become
the least clever notion ever to enter her head.  "Between whom, may I
ask?"  Lexie swallowed.  "Us."

She watched a slow smile spread itself across Storm's face and inwardly
cringed.

"You are challenging me to race my curricle against yours?  Driven by
yourself?."

Lexie's voice failed her.  She nodded.

Storm leant negligently upon his stick.  "Indeed."  The smile became a
grin.  "You little hoyden.  Do you seriously believe that you could
beat me?"

"I would not, suggest the wager if I did not," protested Lexie
hoarsely.

"Hmm.  My accepting your challenge depends largely upon the stake. What
did you have in mind?"

She was forced to clear her throat before she spoke.  Her hands were
damp with sweat.  "If you win, you win my outfit.  My blacks and the
curricle."

"And if you should beat me?"  He regarded her musingly.  "Since you
have not mentioned them, I

collect that you have no use for my match pair?"  "No."  Another
swallow.  "No particular use."  "Then what is it that I am to put at
risk?"

Storm's bored tone did not match the intent expression in his eyes.
Some emotions his mask was unable to hide.  He was deeply interested in
her reply, "If I win, you agree to marry me."

There, it was out.  Lexie waited for him to burst into ribald
laughter.

He did not.  But the intentness in his gaze gave way to pained
affront.

"You lose your horses and carriage or I lose my freedom, is that it?"
At Lexie's timorous nod; he pursed his lips, stood up straight and
swung his cane.  "That scarcely seems a fair wager to me.  I have no
more need of your horses than you have of mine."

"Then I will stake their worth," said Lexie desperately.

He shrugged a negligent shoulder.  "But I have no particular need of
money, either."

"Oh," Lexie drooped.  Her voice dripped disappointment.  "Then you do
not accept the bet?"

"I have not yet decided."  Storm shifted his stance and waited for a
crowd of merrymakers to pass.  "Tell me more.  Where, for instance, is
this proposed race to be run?"

"Around the estate paths at Merry field."

"Ah!  You allow yourself an advantage, I collect."  H/s voice dripped
cynicism.

Lexie fiddled nervously with the strings of her reft-cule.  "You could
arrive several days before the race and familia rise yourself with the
route."

"What?"  Storm swung his stick, leant against the lamp standard and
infused his voice with shock.  His eyes, however, held sheer, devilish
hilarity.  "Reside with you at Merryfield?  What would people say?"

Although Lexie knew he was only barn ming her, she felt obliged to
answer.  "There would be others there.  Invited particularly to watch
the race."

"And to be privy to the nature of the wager?"  enquired Storm
interestedly.

"Well, no.  They would think us racing for cash stakes."

"You.  seem determined to have me leg-shackled, my dear."  He
straightened up, reached out and flicked her chin with one long finger.
"I wonder why?"

Lexie clutched her reticule and parasol tightly with her sticky, gloved
hands.  He must not see them shaking.  Or guess what was now the truth,
that she loved him and longed for him to make love to her.  So she
admitted only her original reason for wishing to wed him.  "I should
like a family and you need an heir.  We deal well together.  The match
would be suitable."

At this he took on a haughty demeanour.  "And you would become a
Duchess in due course.  And find yourself wed to a man of considerable
wealth and influence.  From your point of view I can well see the
advantages, my love," he asserted arrogantly.  "But for.  myself, they
appear, forgive me for saying so, rather less obvious."

"You say you want me," uttered Lexie almost inaudibly, blushing a
furious red which she hoped would not be noticed in the glare of the
lamp.  "And I cannot come to you outside wedlock."

But the gaslight which she hoped would conceal her blush sparked
devilish fires in Storm's eyes.

"Rakes," he informed her, still arrogant, "do not wed the ladies they
desire.  They have no need.  They wed a suitable young dimwit to bear
them an heir."

He sounded as though he found the idea distasteful.  Lexie smiled
grimly.  "And endure a lifetime of boredom."

He settled himself back against the lamp standard, long legs crossed, a
thoughtful expression replacing his former hauteur.  "Not necessarily.
He need not endure much of her company.  But you give me an idea," he
declared lazily.  "I offer you an alternative wager.  if you should
beat me, I will marry you."

Lexie gasped, scarcely able to believe he had accepted such a stake
until he went on, softly, mockingly, "But should I win--an outcome
which, I should warn you, I confidently expect--then you overcome your
scruples and consent to become my mistress."

Dead s'fience greeted his words.  The bottom seemed to have fallen out
of Lexie's stomach.  Why, oh why, had she embarked upon this
nonsensical plan?  She might have guessed the Marquess would turn it to
his own advantage!  Now it had come down to his liberty against her
virtue.

And she had no guarantee of winning, although she did know a thing or
two about the tracks at Merry field which he did not.  She had driven
along them at reckless speed during her lengthy sojourn there while
waiting out her period of mourning and Pitch and Tar knew every rise,
dip and turn.

But he was a noted whip, a nonpareil.  She must have been mad to think
she stood any chance against him!  It had not mattered so desperately
when all she stood to lose was her precious pair of blacks.  But pride
would not allow her to back out now.

"Very well," she said, as firmly as she could make herself.

Storm grinned, reached into his pocket and brought forth a slim
notebook and pencil.

"I always record my wagers and the stakes," he announced, Lexie thought
insultingly smugly, as he wrote down the terms.  "Time and route to be
agreed later," he murmured, signing with a flourish.  "Now if you will
append your mark Lady Amber..."

"My mark!"  muttered Lexie scathingly as she accepted the book.  She
scrutinised what he had written and signed her name, deliberately and
clearly, despite trembling fingers and a renewed sense of doom.

Storm inspected her signature, grinned wickedly as he observed, "You
write an excellent hand, my dear," tucked the book away and courteously
offered his arm.  "Shall we walk on?  People will begin to notice us if
we remain idling here too long."

Lexie put her fingers on his sleeve, glad of the support offered.  But
the deed was done.  All that remained now was to sort out the details.
And run the race.  And pay the price if she lost.

But that was something she preferred not to contemplate.  It stirred
too many mixed emotions.  How deep did her convictions really run?

The rain and unprecedented traffic had conspired to mire Piccadilly's
carriage way with a noxious sludge.  They waited while a ragged lad
swept a clear path for them to cross.  Storm tossed him a penny and
they proceeded towards Bruton Street.

"Did you have a date in mind for this event?  he enquired.  "I cannot
delay my return to Stormaston Park much longer.  There is much to be
done there."

"I thought the house party should be gathered as soon as possible, so
that people who accept may travel straight to Hertfordshire before
returning to their own estates."

Storm nodded.  "An excellent notion.  And who, exactly, did you have it
in mind to invite?"

"Your grandmother and sister and the Duke, too, if he will come.  Lord
Dexter, Mr.  Cresswell, and Miss Melissa Daventry will form the core.
More or less our set.  Merryfield is not a large house.  I could not
accommodate many more."

"They should prove witnesses enough to the fairness of the race.  Were
I you I should not invite others, even if I had room to spare.  Few
ladies of breeding have in the past dared to embark upon such a
scandalous enterprise as you contemplate.  Curricle racing is the
dangerous preserve of gentlemen.  If knowledge of the wager" becomes
widely spread, your reputation will suffer another blow.  It would be
best not to invite any who would be likely to censure the endeavour."

"The Duchess might, I suppose," said Lexie uncertainly.  "But I do so
want her to come."

"Why?"  demanded that lady's grandson with interest.  "Because she has
been kind to me and I value her opinion," explained Lexie, leaving out
the fact that the Duchess's presence tended to moderate the Marquess's
more extravagant behaviour and that she enjoyed observing the affection
in which they obviously held each other.

"I would not like her to think I was behaving in a havey-cavey manner,
hiding my intention from her.  And the Duke must reive an invitation
out of courtesy.  I have never met him, you know."

"Orandmama," said Storm with a chuckle, "will be much diverted at the
prospect of such a race.  Wild horses will not stop her from accepting
your invitation."  "You think so?  Then I shall send it tomorrow!"

"But !  doubt those same wild horses would drag my grandfather from the
Downshire estates," added the Marquess crushingly.

"I shall still invite him Or would you rather he were not present to
watch your defeat?"  speculated Lexie mischievously.

"Outrageous wench!"  uttered Storm, unable to suppress a chuckle at her
audacity.

"The party will be invited to gather a week today, the eighth," went on
Lexie, unperturbed.  "And the race can be run on the tenth.  The Social
calendar is fairly empty now that the victory celebrations and the
centenary jubilee are in the past."

The discussion had brought them to Bruton Street, where Storm escorted
her up the steps of her town house.  Luckily there were few about in
this comparative backwater to observe the in decorum of Lad Amber
arriving home at two in the morning, on for and quite apart from the
dubious escort of t Marquess of Stormaston.  Or to witness the speaki
kiss he planted on her willing lips before he lifted t2 knocker and the
door swung open.

As she lay sleepless in bed later that night Lex" again wondered why,
she had ever imagined Stor would accept such a one-sided wager.

She came to the conclusion that she had sup pres any doubts in her
eagerness to find a way to bring him to an honourable declaration.

But if he won, he would surely not keep her to h side of the bargain.
No gentleman would.

But Storm relished his role as a self-declared rak If he did not
forgive her her debt, she would have overcome her scruples and honour
it.

She dropped off to sleep with a smile curving the soft line of the lips
he had so recently kissed.

The arrangements went smoothly.  Care was dispatched in the curricle
with Pascoe, who received t news of the race with his usual
dispassion.

"If you want the cat He in racing trim, my lady, see that they have
never been in better fettle.  A we is not long to prepare them, but
they are already and the journey into Hertfordshire will help with
their endurance."

"I stand to lose a substantial stake if I do not w Jethro.  If I fail
because of my own lack of skill I shall not complain but to be let down
by out-of-conditi horses would appear inexcusable.  Providing they c be
brought up to prime condition in time, my p should be able to hold
their own against his lordship's, I think you'll agree'

"His lordship's greys are fast, larger animals and heavier, but Pitch
and Tar are fine little beasts, nimble and quick, sound in wind and
limb.  Round the estate tracks at Merryfield'they should prove the most
manageable."

"And they are familiar with the terrain.  Yes, Jethro, a win must be
possible," said Lexie, trying to convince herself as much as Jethro.

"I shall do my best to ensure it, my lady, you may rely on that."

Lexie smiled affectionately.  "I know it, Jethro."  She often called
her chief groom and coachman Jethro when they were alone, just as she
called her maid Florence.  "And if I do win it will be thanks to your
teaching me to drive, as well as your skill in training the horses.
There will be a bonus for you, win or lose."

Pascoe touched his forehead.  "Thank you, my lady.  I hope the weather
holds, for Mrs.  Baldwin will not like to get wet in the Curricle."

"If it rains she will have to ride in the old chaise, surrounded by her
portmanteaux and bandboxes!"

"Travel in the curricle!"  exclaimed Cato, upon learning her fate.  "I
do declare, I never heard of such a thing?

"On a fine day there can be no better way of travelling such a short
distance!  But if you wish, you may ride in the old coach with your
luggage .... "

Lexie left the threat of an uncomfortable, unsprung journey hanging,
amused by Cousin Caro's horror at travelling in an open carriage.  She
herself much preferred it.  She considered Caro privileged to be driven
by Pascoe behind the blacks.

She would herself travel down to Merryfield at the weekend in her
travelling chaise, her only carriage remaining in Town, which was why
she could not spare it to transport Cato.  Storm would be driving
himself down in his curricle on the Sunday in order to have three clear
days in which to familia rise himself with the route.  Felix St.  Clare
intended to accompany him on horseback.  She must be there to receive
them.

The acceptances arrived by messenger the following day.  Only one snag
arose concerning the arrangements.  The Viscountess proved intransigent
over allowing poor Oswald out of her sight for more than a few hours.
She therefore had to be invited to join the party.

Lexie had only one evening engagement that week, a visit to the theatre
with Storm, who had been asked by friends to share their box.  She had
been included in the party because of her known association with him,
she supposed, for she did not know her hosts well.

The ladies sat in the front of the box with the gentlemen behind. Storm
maintained an unusual silence throughout.  In the intervals.  he
appeared abstracted rather than languid.  The play was not particularly
enliven Lug and Lexie wondered why her hosts had chosen to patronise
that particular theatre.  The explanation came right at the end.

The leading lady, a dark beauty with flashing eyes whose appearance had
been the only alleviation of an otherwise drab production, stepped
forward, stared up into their box, sought out the figure of the
Marquess sitting behind Lexie, gave him an elaborate curtsy and blew a
kiss in his direction.

The lady next to Lexiebegan to titter.

"Your former doxy does not forget you, Stormaston!"  chuckled their
host.

"His women never do," murmured another of the party.

Lexie sat frozen.  Dignity and self-respect demanded that she give no
sign of discomfort.  She pinned a smile on her lips and stared down on
the still bowing and curtsying figure.

So this was the woman who had been Storm's mistress!  She possessed a
faultless figure, an entrancing face and a captivating manner that
Lexie knew she could never hope to equal.  Yet Storm had dismissed the
actress apparently without regret while he concentrated on his pursuit
of her, Lexie.

He must tire of his women easily.  He was a hunter.  The chase was all.
He would become bored with her once he had secured her as his prey.

"She would do well to behave with more dignity," observed Storm lazily,
adding, "How could she have known that I was here?"

No one bothered to speculate.  Lexie could feel the anger vibrating
through StoiXa's body and her own growing suspicion was confirmed. They
had been lured into a trap.  She was supposed to create a scene. Storm
was supposed to lose his self-possession.  The summer would end on a
highly entertaining note of scandal.

She turned to her hostess as the final curtain fell and the torches and
candles blazed.

"Thank you for a pleasant evening, my lady," she said, smiling thinly.
"Despite the poor production, I managed to enjoy the performance.  I
thank you for inviting me to join your party, but I fear I shall not be
able to remain for supper.  I have developed such a headache.  Perhaps
due to the putrid acting.  Lord Stormaston, may we please leave now?"

Cries of shock and concern greeted her words although no one was taken
in by her excuse.  She gave Storm her most brilliant smile as she
prepared to take his arm.

StoI'm made his formal devoirs, every inch the cool aristocrat.  He
expressed no thanks to his supposed friends for their hospitality,
merely remarked that the ever)ing had proved extraordinarily
interesting.

Now that the die had been cast, the race arranged and the outcome, one
way or the other, decided, they had managed to relax in each other's
company again.  In the privacy--for their final engagement in Town
Lexie had dispensed with the services of a chapcron--and darkness of
the coach his voice came to her.

"My most humble apologies, my lady.  My mortification is such that I
dare scarcely ask your forgiveness for exposing you to such an
unpleasant episode.  Even when I recognised Hermione Green on stage I
did not imagine... The thing was arranged, of course, for the
titillation of those I had considered my friends.  Hermione had.  been
bribed, I have no doubt.  Left to herself she would not have thought...
She needed no revenge.  She left me possessed of a substantial
settlement."

This quietly desperate, abject gentleman was not the Storm she knew!
Impulsively, Lexie turned to him and laid a hand on his sleeve.

"It was not your fault, my dear.  How could you have supposed anyone
would stoop--?"  Despite his humiliation, Storm's heart leapt at the
endearment.  She had not taken offence.  There must be a chance to win
her willing surrender, whatever the outcome of that damned race.  He
hurried to interrupt.  "I should know the ton by now.  God knows, I
have had enough experience.  I should have checked the playbill before
accepting the invitation.  Had I known Hermione Green was in the play I
would not have accepted."

"Storm--'

"You were perfect in your dignified behaviour, my dear."  He had taken
both her hands into his own and drawn her closer.  "You gave them no
cause to gossip over the affair.  Anything they may say will be quickly
forgotten."

"Storm--'

In his agitation he cut her off again.  "For myself, I do not care. But
that they could treat you so shabbily--'

"Perhaps, by indulging in rash behaviour I asked for such treatment,"
said Lexie honestly.  "My dear Storm, we are both used to being the
subject of gossip.  There is nothing for me to forgive."

He drew a shuddering breath and pulled her to him.  In an instant she
was in his arms, his mouth had found hers and she lost all sense of
time.  The sound of the coachman's voice addressing the horses, the
screech of the brake, the jerk as the carriage came to rest, brought
them both back to reality.

"Now I have something else to apologise for," muttered Storm.

LeXie withdrew from his arms reluctantly.  "Apologise You, my dear?"
She laughed, albeit a little shakily.  "No rake apologises for kissing
a woman, given the opportunity."

Footmen carrying ram beaux hurried down the steps to open the door.
Lexie saw the wry smile which accompanied his response.  "Neither does
he, my dear.  God's blessings until Sunday, at Merryfield."

"Until Sunday," echoed Lexie as she left the coach.  She did hot
question the cause of his not accompanying her indoors.  After that
kiss, any further exchange between them could only prove an
anticlimax.

Merryfield Manor nestled in the Hertfordshire countryside, the colour
of its slate roof and mellow brick walls ever changing as the clouds
scudded overhead.  The original manor house had been built in Tudor
times and beams still laced the brickwork in the oldest parts.  The
wings, added on over several later ages, reflected the times in which
they had been built yet managed to tie in together to present a
harmonious whole.

Lexie loved it.  This was home as she had never known it before, her
domain to order as she willed, to enjoy at leisure.  Residence in her
town house in Bruton Street could not give her the same contented
pleasure.

One of Merryfield's attractions for her, having so long been buried
first in Ireland and then in Cornwall, was its proximity to London,
which could be reached easily within a day, the estate lying not far
from the turnpike to St.  Albans.

Arriving on the Saturday, to be greeted by a flustered, bustling Caro
with a buxom and smiling Mrs.  Panning bobbing behind her, Lexie sighed
inwardly.

At that moment, after the traumas of the past week and a long day's
travel, she would have appreciated Merryfield's normal serenity; but
the cause of the upset was all her own, so she could scarcely complain
at the furious activity taking place all around her,

"We are almost ready to receive the guests," reported Caro
breathlessly.  "Mr.  and Mrs.  Panning have kept the house and grounds
in excellent condition during your absence."

Lexie gave the middle-aged caretaker, neat and comfortable-looking in
her grey gown and snowy apron, an approving smile.  "So I notice."

Mrs.  Panning bobbed again.  "I hopes as how you'll be pleased, my
lady."  "I'm sure that if Mrs.  Baldwin is satisfied, I shall be,

tOO."

"The Marquess's rooms are prepared, and we have put Lord Dexter in the
adjoining suite, with Mr.  Cresswell beyond him.  The ladies will
occupy rooms in the other wing, the Duke and Duchess of Downshire
occupying the main guest suite.  I trust that meets with your approval,
Alexia?"  "

"Splendid, Cousin."  To her surprise, the Duke had been prevailed upon
to travel to Merryfield, from where he would be able to escort his wife
back to their estates without setting foot in his detested London.
"That means that we--" she grinned "--will occupy the middle ground
between.  I'll go straight up and change."

Chalker had already gone upstairs and footmen were humping her luggage
in.  Lexie mounted the stairs to her suite on the upper floor, which
looked out over the sweep of the gravel drive' to a fine view over the
countryside, much of which she owned.  She looked out of the window,
glanced up at the sky and smiled.

"Thank you for all this and so much more, dear Amber," she murmured. "I
know you would approve of this race.  Yo, u loved to watch me drive.
And you would not object to Lord Stormaston taking your place.  I
believe you would like and trust him."

"You were saying something, my lady?"  asked Chalker, hurrying into the
bedroom from the adjoining dressing room.  "Your boxes have been
brought up.  I was just unpacking them."

"I was talking to myself, Florence.  A bad habit.  Just help me out of
my travelling gown and into something cooler, nothimg formal: We have
no guests for dinner tonight."

"A good night's sleep is just what you need, my lady," said Chalker.
"You've had too many late nights over the past months, in my
opinion."

"Which I do not remember asking for!  But I have kept you out late,
too, on many an occasion, for which I apologise, Florence.  Once this
race is run, we can settle down to a quiet sojourn in the country."

"It's not London I object to, my lady, it's my home.  But you've been
overdoing things.  Mrs.  Baldwin has been most concerned..."

"Quite unnecessarily," said Lexie, irritated by what was fast becoming
Chalkefts familiarity.  But she knew that it was born of genuine regard
and so did not berate her loyal maid.

The Marquess of Stormaston and Viscount Dexter arrived in time for
dinner.  Lexie smiled when she saw his groom leading Brutus, for it
meant that his lordship intended to ride horseback as well as drive
while he was at Merryfield.  All her horses had been brought from
London and so she anticipated being able to ride out in the morning on
Danny, accompanied by both gentlemen.

Dinner proved a cheerful occasion, everyone in splendid spirits.
Lexie's excitement was mounting hourly.  Both Stormaston and Dexter,
while maintaining their natural air of breeding and conduct,
nevertheless shed much of their Town bronze now they were in the
country and appeared perfectly at home.

They did not linger over their port and brandy but quickly joined the
ladies.  It did not take Storm long to suggest that they should take a
walk in the grounds, since the evening was both warm and bright.

The old building glowed in the declining sun.  Storm turned to study
it.

"You possess a fine dowry, my lady," he said approvingly.  "Some
gentleman will surely be happy to wed you to obtain control of the
estate."

"That," said Lexie with t sidelong glance, "is my one regret whenever I
contemplate marriage.  I wonder whether it is me or Merryfield which is
the object of my suit offs desire.  Besides, I know I shall lose
control of it if I accept."  She gave a heartfelt sigh.  "Sometimes I
am tempted never to wed again."

Storm's eyes mocked her.  "Really?  That is not the, impression I had
gained."

"Yet you must know that I have rejected several gentlemen over the last
months," Lexie returned.

"You would have to trust the man you married to administer it well,"
put in Felix, looking with interest and barely concealed amusement from
one to the other.

He was not privy to the exact terms of the wager but it would have
taken a complete dimwit not to sense some undercurrem of hidden meaning
lying beneath the surface of their banter.  Lexie smiled at him.

"Indeed, administration of the estate has been much in my thoughts
recently."

"The fields we passed through--I imagine they belonged to the
estate--looked productive enough," mused Storm, "but from what you have
told me, Lady Alexia, I believe their yield could be improved.  You
have not, I conclude, had a chance to consult with your steward yet?"

"I arrived only yesterday, but I shall put your suggestions to him, my
lord.  Perhaps you would consent to be present at the interview?  I am
certain your Word would carry more weight than mine in such matters,
and you would explain in terms he could understand and pass on to the
tenants."

Storm, his face inscrutable, bowed.  "I shah be delighted to be of
service in any way I am able, my lady, once this plaguey wager is
behind us."

Lexie caught his double entendre and fought down her blush. ""Plaguey",
is it, my lord?  Yet you seemed willing enough to accept my challenge
when it was made!"

She knew he was teasing her.  Just as she was teasing him.  Merryfield
would make an excellent addition to the Stormaston estates just as he
would make an excellent master.  If she won the race.

If not... Lord Dexter, unable to properly interpret the hidden meanings
behind their words, remarked, "I, for one, am anticipating your contest
with keen anticipation.  The Duchess and Lady Fanny arrive tomorrow, I
collect?"

"Indeed, as do the remainder of the party.  I do hope Lady Wighton does
not irritate everyone to distraction?

"I believe," said Felix quietly, "that both her son and Lady Fanny are
clever enough to pull the wool over her eyes and keep her temper
sweet."

"You do, do you?"  murmured Storm with a sideways look.  "Just as long
as they do not engage in some deceit which puts roy sister in a
compromising situation.  Since she is so against the match, I should
dislike having to play the heavy-handed guardian and insist upon a
marriage neither party wishes."

"I am convinced they will make every endear oUr to avoid that
Possibility."

"So I should hope!"  exclaimed Lexie, wondering that Storm did not seem
to have noticed his friend's interest in Lady Fanny.  Though perhaps he
had, and approved the budding romance.  ,

But that seemed udikeIy.  Fanny was young and innocent, Felix older ad
a confirmed rake, like Storm himself.  Were Felix really to reform,
however, she for one would thoroughly approve the match.

She thought the stroag-minded woman, so speedily emerging from the
chrysalis of the uncertain young Fanny who had arrived in Town six
months ago, might well tame Felix.  The egard in which they held each
other appeared to be rmtual.  But Felix would have to tread warily.
Storm, so disreputable himself, would require respectability ia the man
he allowed Fanny to wed.  If Felix persisted in his discreet pursuit of
Fanny, Lexie could see a rough passage ahead.

Storm, she thought ruefully, was unlikely to be tamed by anyone.  But
should he choose to mend his ways, for whatever reason, he would make
the most satisfactory of husbands.  But--her nerves tensed--if she won
the race he would wed her under duress.  Such a forced match would be
unlikely to inspire him to reform.  It might have quite the opposite
effect.

Something else she had not foreseen when she conceived her stupid idea,
she thought miserably.  Did she really want to win, when the felicity
of her reward was so uncertain?

Yes!  For a wife must necessarily exert more influence than a
mistress--how she hated that term!  And feared the consequences of
being forced into becoming Storm's!  But she would never give up hope
of winning not only his hand, but his love as well.

"How long is the course we are to run?"  asked the object of her
thoughts, bringing her back to the realities of the situation.

"Pascoe says it is about three miles.  I will ride out with you
tomorrow morning and take you round the route."

"My thanks."  Storm's smile had a certain cynicism about it, "I.  shall
spend the remainder of my time familia rising myself and my team with
the terrain.  That, I conceive, is only fair."

"Perfectly fair, my lord.  But the evening grows chilly and Cousin Cato
will be anxious.  Shall we return to the house?"

They had both ridden round the route, which grounds-men, under Pascoe's
direction, had marked out with whitewash.

"I hope it does not rain?  had said Storm.

"If it does, they will do it again," had returned Lexie.  This had left
Lexie with little time the following day to watch Storm taking his team
gingerly around the twisting tracks, making the sharp turns required
both in the woods and out in the fields, and negotiating the narrow,
humped bridge across a stream which wandered through the estate or to
traverse it herself.

She took Pitch and Tar around the route once, hour or so after
breakfast, Storm following at a respectable distance.  Naturally, she
did not drive as fast as she usually did, for she had no intention
showing off her prowess to her adversary.

But Storm kept the same distance behind her all way, apparently finding
little difficulty in the difficult corners.  He had only driven round
before.  He and his team learnt fast.  But the ease which he was
mastering the course only in what she already ldaew: Storm was a
opponent.  But.... Well, she would simply have all her skill and
knowledge and leave the

Fate.  And accept the result.  *

Storm, with Felix riding with him as advisor tinued to study the route
until dinner, which early in the country, driving his team around third
time after consuming a light hunch connoted that he was careful not to
overtire his cattle,".  had all the next day to continue his did she.
Tomorrow, her other guests would be in and able to amuse themselves
while she took her blacks round the course.

The Duke of Downshire arrived just before dinner in a chaise driven by
postilions who trumpeted his arrival, escorted by outriders and with a
coach following behind with his servant and luggage.  The Duchess and
Fanny had earlier travelled in similar style.  That they had
condescended to visit so small an estate as Merryfield still caused
Lexie some surprise.

As Lexie greeted the Duke and made her curtsy, she studied his face,
seeing the resemblance Storm bore to his grandfather.  He had his
grandmother's eyes and something of her looks but his grandfather's
nose and chin.

"Well, m'dear," he greeted his wife, "here I am."

"Did you have a good journey?"  enquired Lexie courteously.

"Damned uncomfortable."  The 0id face suddenly creased into a
mischievous smile so like his grandson's that Lexie almost gasped. "But
worth it to make your acquaintance, Lady Amber.  Where's that
scapegrace grandson of mine?"

"Still out with his team," Lexie told him rather breathlessly.  That
the Duchess had persuaded her husband to accept her invitation she did
not doubt.  And he had come especially to meet her.

As Fanny greeted her grandparent and he was introduced to those he did
not already know, Lexie considered.  Could the Duchess possibly
suspect...?

More to the point, was it possible that she was trying to promote a
match between her and her grandson?

Lexie gave her head a tiny shake.  Such a notion must surely come
purely from her own desire.

CHAPTER NINE

RAIN on Tuesday afternoon sent all those guests who had been out
watching the practice runs scurrying for the house.

"Some of the going will be heavy after this," observed Pascoe quietly
when Lexie returned her team to the stables as it began.

"I suppose so," muttered Lexie, wondering whether the conditions would
favour a heavier or a lighter outfit.  "Pitch and Tar are used to the
conditions here so I hope it will be an advantage.  I shall need every
assistance I can find.  Do not forget to have the grounds men mark the
course again in the morning."  "No, my lady."

Pascoe's dry tone made Lexie realise she had sue-cur abed to
unnecessary fussing in her anxiety.  As though Jethro was likely to
forget!

That evening, although she joined in the general conversation, listened
to Lady Fanny's rendering of "Greensleeves" with apparent appreciation,
watched the glances exchanged between Fanny and Felix with some
misgiving and noted Miss Daventry's attempts to monopolise the
attention of Mr.  Cresswell, despite Lady Wightoh's forbidding frown,
her mind refused to focus on any of these things.

While Storm, apparently completely relaxed and unconcerned, played a
hand of piquet with his grand mother, she could feel her own nerves
tightening in anticipation of the morrow.

Of one thing she could be certain, Storm would no more injure his
cattle than would she.  Neither would risk foundering their animals:
they were far too valuable to be ruined, quite apart from any question
of sentiment.  So she would go only as fast as seemed safe.  On certain
paths, where overtaking was impossible, the one in front would set the
pace.  On more open, wider stretches the other would then try to
overtake.

They must make the main circuit twice, but at the end would race up the
drive to the finish, a line drawn across the sweep outside the main
entrance to the house.  There would be room along the drive for them to
race neck and neck if necessary and, the ground being drained and
level, they could risk going all out.

If she could keep in touch until that point.  her sprightly, game pair
could surely overtake Storm's greys.  Better still, if she could manage
to be in front, then Storm would never manage to overtake her, for the
course should take more out of the greys.

But what use speculating?  Storm would have his plan worked out.  He
would not easily be beaten.  Nor, she imagined, would he take defeat
kindly.  Although normally, as a sporting gentleman, he took his losses
philosophically, this was no ordinary wager.

To be beaten by a woman and to lose his precious freedom--it would be
too much.  Whatever the outcome, Lexie knew that by dinner tomorrow her
life would have become fraught with difficulty.  She could see little
chance of happiness in either outcome.

The temptation to withdraw was almost overwhelming.  She could feign an
illness ... but that would only put Off the moment.  Storm would expect
her to renew the challenge the instant she recovered.  Even if he
believed her truly indisposed.

Pride came to her rescue again.  What she had started, she would
finish.

Thanks to a posset administered by Chalker, Lexie slept better than she
had anticipated.  She woke with a slight headache which disappeared as
soon as she had drunk her morning chocolate.

She went out to the stables to inspect her team long before breakfast,
to find Storm already there.

"You slept well?"  he enquired after greeting her with a formal bow.

"Perfectly well, I thank you," returned Lexie, noting the excellence of
his green coat, the fit of his buckskin breeches, the perfection of his
shining boots.  "Your greys are on form?"

"So Coltby and Trappin inform me.  And your team?"  "I am just about to
find out.  Excuse me."

She swept across the yard, the skirts of her blue velvet carriage dress
lifted: to escape the mire.  She really could not stand exchanging
pleasantries with him, she was far too nervous.

Jethro Pascoe greeted her with a wide grin.  "They've had their feed
and enough water, but not too much," he reported.  "Couldn't be in
better condition, my lady.  They'll take a bit of handling to start
with, mind.  Eager and lively as young colts!"

"They'll behave for me.  Won't you, my loves?"  she asked the horses as
she allowed them to nuzzle her hands and find the lumps of sugar held
in her palms.  Although she trusted Storm to be honest, she wondered
about Trappin.  But she could not ask Pascoe to guard her pair against
the supposedly kindly act of offering them a bucket of water just
before the start.  So, "Look after them," was all she said as she
prepared to return for her own breakfast.

"I'll do that, my lady, never you fear," answered Pascoe.  "No one but
me or Jeffs shall enter their stable, that I promise you.  Nor will any
of us be allowed near his lordship's cattle.  "Tis best that way."

Reassured, Lexie returned to partake of several cups of coffee but
little else, pecking at a freshly baked roll spread with butter from
her own dairy.  His lordship, of course, ate a substantial breakfast of
eggs, kidneys and ham, together with several rolls.

Most of her other guests drifted in to eat while she was them.  Felix
entered, dressed ready for walking in the country, for he, Marlow,
Coltby and Trappin were to join Pascoe, Jeffs, the caretaker Panning,
and several other grooms and grounds men in lining the route at
intervals in order to be on hand should there be an accident and, at
the same time, to ensure that neither outfit deviated from the route.

"I trust both contestants are fit and ready?"  he drawled as he took
his place at the table by his friend.  "The day looks set fair.  We
should all avoid a soaking."

"We shall walk over to the copse," said Fanny, indicating Oswald and
Melissa.  "It is the nearest point on the cimuit to the house and once
you have both passed there for the second time we shall come back here
for the finish."

"A convenient point from which to watch, as you discovered yesterday
morning," grinned Storm.  "Do not exert yourselves too much, ladies, or
catch cold.

The temperature is much lower after the rain.  You will need extra
clothing if you are to stand about in the open."

The race was due to start at midday.  Lexie returned to the stables to
oversee the harnessing of her team, unable to relax enough to let
Pascoe deal with it on his own.  He seemed to understand and put up
with her restless interventions stoically until Pitch and Tar began to
sidle and sweat.

"You are upsetting your horses, my lady," he pointed out.  "May I
suggest that you take a short walk while I finish preparing the
outfit?"

"I'm sorry.  You are quite right.  If I do not relax, neither will the
horses."

Chastened, Lexie walked from the yard towards the designated start,
some hundred yards distant.  She heard a tread behind her and turned to
see Storm striding out to catch up with her.

He swept her a lavish bow.  "You are determined on this?"  he asked,
eyeing her flushed face critically.

"Of course?  Lexie, setting the pin in her driving hat to fix it more
firmly on her head--for she had felt it shift as she inclined her "head
in greeting--met his gaze defiantly.  "I will not pretend not to be
nervous.  Unlike your 1ordslip, I have never engaged in such an
enterprise before.  But that does not mean that I shall drive any less
well?

"Good girl?  He smiled suddenly, an admiring, encouraging smile that
did more to make her nervous-in a different way--than any anticipation
had so far achieved.  But it was an agitation which, surprisingly,
settled her nerves as far as the race was concerned.  For she knew
that, whatever the outcome,

Storm would accept the result in good spirit.  Both their futures would
be settled by a combination of skill and chance.

Her hands Stopped trembling as she lowered them from her hat.  The
stable clock chimed the hour and the grooms led the outfits from the
yard as the group of spectators came into view, led by Lady Fanny.

"Too late to back out now," grinned Storm, holding out his strong, lean
hand.

Lexie looked at it in astonishment.  He was treating her as an equal.
With a quick smile she took it and shook it, her own small fist quite
engulfed by his, in a friendly gesture before the serious competition
began.  "Good luck," she said.

"And to you, my lady.  You'll need it," he warned.  They parted to
mount their respective curricles.  Lexie paused to fondle the muz!es of
Pitch and Tar as she passed, glad to see that Pascoe had managed to
settle them down again, though, their spirits being high, the groom was
having a job to hold them.

Storm's greys were restive, too, full of running.  He slapped their
necks in passing and was up in his seat first.  Lexie gathered her
ribbons, flicked her whip and walked her pair to the start line.  Storm
brought his carriage alongside and grooms held both teams to steady
them.

"Ready?"  cried, Oswald, hat held high.

He had agreed to be the official starter.  He had opened a book and had
his money on Stormaston.  The ladies had backed Lady Alexia.  The staff
all had money on one or the other or both of them.  How each one had
bet was.  Oswald's secret.  Lexie felt the pressure of wanting to win
so as not to let her supporters down more than that of winning for
herself.  Her own fate she had come to view largely as a matter of
providence.  Resignation had taken the place of apprehension.

Both contestants nodded.

"Then go!"  shouted Oswald, dropping his hat with a flourish.

The grooms jumped back.  Lexie gave her pair the office and set them to
a modest canter.  The first stretch, like the last, was comparatively
straight and wide.  She hoped that Storm would take the lead.  Her plan
was to overtake him here the second time around and make use of her
better knowledge of the twists and turns of the route to get far enough
ahead for him not to be able to pass her on the straight before the
finish.

But Storm'did not oblige.  Doggedly, he remained almost abreast, his
greys" heads level with her horses" withers.  Either he would shoot
ahead before the track narrowed or would fall behind and follow her
lead through the looming wood.  To force him ahead, she would have to
pull her horses, make them lose their stride and rhythm..

She waited until the last moment.  As the greys" heads began to slip
backwards, Lexie reined the blacks in hard, making them snort and shake
their heads in protest, but they dropped to a trot so abruptly that
Storm was past before he could do anything but take the lead.

As his outfit plunged into the comparative darkness beneath the trees
he gave a great whoop of laughter and waved his whip in acknowledgement
of the success of Lexie's tactic.

Lexie, loving the feel of the ribbons in her small,

capable hands and the responsiveness of her horses to her slightest
command, urging them to pick up speed again as quickly as possible,
laughed herself, exhilarated not only by her triumph but by the mere
fact of driving in competition with so worthy an opponent.  She had
lacked such a challenge before.  However well and fast she had driven,
she had had nothing to tell her whether she was as skilled as Amber and
Pascoe assured her she was.

Storm negotiated the remainder of the first circuit with care but fast,
giving the path his undivided concentration, avoiding roots and
potholes, mired patches and puddles with uncanny skill, taking the
narrow bridge at a brisk pace, his wheel hubs always a safe inch from
the stone parapets.

HIS curricle swayed dangerously only once, when a wheel found a root on
a sharp bend.  Groans from Felix and a grounds man greeted this
potential disaster and scattered cheers followed their progress,
especially when they came to the copse, but neither driver spared a
thought for their audience.

Lexie had no-difficulty in keeping close behind.  In fact she knew she
could have driven her horses faster.  Her hopes began to mount.  Pitch
and Tar, straining at their bits, could surely pass their opponents on
the straight!

She kept her place along most of its length, giving Storm no indication
that she intended to pass him.  Then, with room for manoeuvre running
out, she flicked her whip and gave her pair their heads.

Storm did nothing to prevent her passing him.  In fact he gave her a
cheery wave as she sped by.  He thought she had played into his hands,
did he?  Lexie smiled grimly as she set herself to show him just how
speedily she was capable of setting her horses to cover the difficult
ground.

They were, naturally, not as fresh as they had been on the first
circuit, but she knew they still had a good turn of speed in their
legs.  She must reserve that for the chase along the drive.  The track,
too, had suffered from their first passage.  Hooves and wheels had
churned the sudace, hiding many of the hazards.

Should she become stuck with Storm trapped behind her, she would have
to allow him past as soon as the grounds men and grooms had extricated
her from the mire.  So although she negotiated bends, bridges and rough
ground at a faster pace than Storm had done, and the high-sprung
vehicle swayed alarmingly once or twice, she drove within her limits.
And tried to conserve her horses" energy for the final sprint.

Storm disappointed her by keeping up, too close behind for her comfort.
She had expected to gain a hundred yards or more over the second
circuit but she gained only a length.  As both curricles burst out on
to the drive his horses were snorting at her heels.

But the drive was smooth, well graVel led safe.  She leant forward to
urge "Pitch and Tar to give of their utmost.  Gallantly, the small
blacks took up the challenge of the larger greys thundering along
behind.  Lexie glanced over her shoulder.  Inch by inch, Storm was
gaining on her.  But did he have time to overtake?

Looking forward again she simply concentrated on getting the utmost
speed from her horses, ignoring as far as possible the threatening
drumming and rattling which told her Storm was gaining even more
ground, coming up fast.  She could have used blocking tactics, but it
did not even occur to her.  This was a ra personal between her and
Storm.

While tricks had seemed allowable in its first stag now it had come
down to who could cover the straight in the least time.  The greys"
heads appeare her shoulder.  Another hundred yards to gol Grit she hung
on but, with a tremendous surge of pow the greys shot forward at the
last moment and their heads were well ahead as both curricles crossed
finishing line to the sound of enthusiastic cheers.

(uite a crowd had gathered to watch the fun Most of the ground staff
and all the others scattel about the course had raced back to view the
out co A few returning from steward's duties at the furtt reaches were
still straggling in, the result being shou at them as they panted up.

Storm, triumphant, appeared magnanimous victory,

"My dear Lady Alexia, I confess myself surprise have never driven
against a more worthy op pone he declared, springing down from his seat
and stretl ing out a hand to assist Lexie to dismount.

The sheerly wicked look in those blue eyes, devilish curve to his lips
as she looked down into lean face and saw the livid scar standing out
from] tanned skin, increased the weight of the lump undigested suet
pudding which seemed to have settle in Lexie's stomach.

His hands closed about her waist as he lifted l down.  His touch had
never seemed more intima Colour flamed in Lexie's cheeks.  She felt
light-heade

"Thank you, my lord," she managed to say.  "C( gratulations on a
splendid race.  Your greys are non pare

He grinned again.  "I did warn you."

Lexie turned to their audience.  Her stomach might be churning, she
might feel exhausted by the sheer mental and physical effort of
controlling her horses and bringing her outfit safely home, but she
managed to maintain a cheerful if rather wry countenance.

"I can only apologise to those who have lost money on my performance. I
did my best but lost to a better team--which includes the driver!"

A chorus of disclaimers greeted this, all the ladies protesting that it
did not matter in the least, but nevertheless their disappointment
showed.

"No, our disquiet is not in that we lost money on you, Lady Alexia,"
Fanny hastened to reform her, "but that you could not win against my
arrogant brother!  He has too high an opinion of himself and it would
have been so satisfactory to see him beaten for once?  "Wretch!"
chided Storm.

"No more than you deserve, James!"  declared his grandmother, leaning
heavily on the stick she used when her joints stiff cried and became
painful.  The overnight rain had quickly fad its effect.

The Duke joined in the congratulations being showered on Storm's head.
"Well done, Stormaston?  He chuckled.  "I trust your winnings are
handsome?"

"Handsome indeed, sir," acknowledged Storm, not looking at Lexie, for
which she silently thanked him.

"And you, young lady, I take it you can afford your losses?"

"I would not have staked something I was unable to deliver."

The Duke chuckled and offered her his arm.  "Allow me to escort such a
gallant loser back to the house.  I am certain my grandson can find his
own way."

Lexie took the offered arm and had her mind taken off the future
consequences of her loss in answering the questions put to her by the
old man, knowledgeable about land management as only the owner of vast
estates could be, who wanted to know all about the house and gardens,
for which he professed a great admiration.

He was nice, Lexie decided, glad he had been able to come.  She would
not enjoy deceiving him or the Duchess, but she would do it to protect
her name and keep their regard.  The Duchess appeared to ignore the
rumours circulating about her and Storm.  Maybe the Duke had not yet
been regaled with them.  She liked them both far to much to want to
cause them any hurt.

Back at the house, Oswald set about paying out the winnings.  Any
profit was to be divided amongst the servants.

"I will settle my debt to his lordship later," murmured Lexie,
preparing to escape to her room to change.

"Make sure she doesn't renege, Storm," grinned Felix.

"You may be sure of that," murmured Storm, bowing over her hand with
perfect elegance.  "But I do not anticipate any such possibility.  Lady
Alexia is above all things an honourable lady?

Only Lexie could see the questioning, challenging look in those blue
eyes.

"I always pay my debts," she retorted tartly, "however reluctantly."

"So I should hope!"  cried Oswald's mother, the only guest not to
venture out to watch the race.

Cousin Caro, following inclination and her duty as surrogate hostess,
had remained indoors with Lady Wighton but had watched the finish from
a window.  She sprang to her young cousin's defence.

"Of course she will!  Alexia is the most principled of creatures!  How
can you doubt it?"

"I cannot feel able to rely upon Lady Amber's doing anything any lady
of sense and breeding would think proper," retorted Lady Wighton
spitefully.  "To think of her racing her curricle against a gentleman!
I have never heard of such an outrageous thing!"

"Really, Mama--'

Oswald's brave protest was lost in a chorus of indignant dissent.  Only
the DucheSS's voice could be distinguished above the rest.

"I believe you owe Lady Amber an apology, Lady Wighton!  To so insult a
fellow peeress in her own house?

Lady Wighton bridled.  Before she could respond Storm intervened.

"I, personally, shall count it a grave disservice if I ever hear any
hint of disapproval of Lady Amber circulating.  If I discover you to be
the source, madam, then I should most certainly be forced to terminate
our acquaintance."

A murmur of assent greeted his words.  Such a refusal to acknowledge
her' would amount to social disaster.  Lady Wighton smiled, if
thinly.

"My dear Stormaston, I shall, as always, keep my opinions to myself. As
long as you are satisfied that the debt will be met I have no more to
say."

"I should think not!"  muttered Oswald furiously.

For Lexie the remainder of the day passed in a kind of limbo.  She
performed all her duties as hostess, entertained her guests, laughed
with them, chatted on inconsequential matters.  But her mind had run on
to the night ahead.  Would the Marquess claim his winnings straight
away?  Here, at Merryfield?

He could do so with a certain amount of security.  Chalker slept in a
room some distance from her suite and Caro's rooms, although leading
from the same landing, were entirely separate.  Were he to leave his
room to visit her no one would be any the wiser.

When the time came she dismissed Chalker, telling her to leave a branch
of candles burning, for she wished to read.

"Sleep well, then, my lady," said Chalker as she left the room.  "You
must be worn out after that race this morning."

"I hope you did not lose too much money on me, Florence," said Lexie
ruefully.  "I did my best to win."

"I knew you would my lady and I placed some money on you."  The maid
coloured as she stood with her hand on the door to the dressing room,
where she would tidy up before going to her own bed.  "But his lordship
has a formidable reputation.  I put money on him, as well.  So I didn't
lose anything in the end."

"Well, I'm glad of that," said Lexie, wondering how she could have been
so naieve as to think anyone would have backed her to win without
hedging their bet.

"By the way, Florence, after this house party you may take a holiday,"
she promised.  She could not be sure of the Marquess's intentions but
having her as his mistyess seemed to imply more than a single night
spent in her bed and she wanted to be free to please herself--and
him.

Not that she did not trust Chalker's discretion, but to Lexie, keeping
the affair secret was all-important.  If the liaison could be kept
entirely hidden from others, she would not feel quite so bad about
it.

"I can manage without you for at least a week.  Say two.  Make what
arrangements you like."

Chalkefts face lit up.  "You mean it, my lady?  Then I'll send a
message to my mother.  She'll be glad to see me.  She hasn't been too
grand lately, by all accounts.  I can travel by stage from the posting
inn in St.  Albans."

Lexie nodded.  And you may sort out a couple of my old gowns to take
with you.  Do it tomorrow and let me know which ones you would like."

"Very well, my lady.  And thank you."

With Chalkefts departure nervousness started the butterflies fluttering
in Lexie's stomach.  Storm had said nothing, but the expression in his
eyes as he had bidden her good night led her to expect him.  The memory
of the fire in his gaze sent fris sons of anticipation down her spine.
She shivered, despite the warmth of the night, and pulled her dressing
wrap close about her..  ,

She could not bring herself to get into bed to wait for him--that would
be too embarrassing--so she sat in her chair with a book open on her
lap, listening to the sounds in the house gradually die away.  If he
was coming, it would be soon.

The candles guttered and she sprang up to take a taper to light others
to replace them.  The activity took away some of her nervousness and
she was so concentrating on her task that at first she failed to hear
the soft sound of her door opening.

When Storm came in, she was standing with a freshly-lighted branch of
candles in her hand.  The glo from their flames fell upon her luxuriant
hair, cascading like molten gold from beneath her lacy cap.  Colou
flooded her face and then fled, leaving her skin alabaster white apart
from the freckles sprinkled across he nose.  Her hand began to shake,
the flames to waver.

Storm turned the key in the lock before stridin forward to take the'
candelabra from her grasp.

"You'll drop it," he chided, putting it down in plac of the others,
which he carried over to a distant table where he proceeded, quite
calmly, to extinguish the flames.

"I did not know whether to expect you or not gulped Lexie.

"Did you think I would not claim my winnings?"  Hi eyebrows lifted
quiTically as he came back to her.  "A gentleman would not," uttered
Lexie.

"No?"  The eyebrows approached his hairline.  "Bt then, you knew I was
no gentleman when you accepte the wager."  His hand came out and his
fingers lifte her chin so that their eyes met.  Wide, anxious gree met
teasing blue in which the fires of passion burn but well banked down.
"Would you have let me ol had you won, my lady?"

Lexie gulped.  "I might have done.  Had you appeare too greatly
displeased at the idea of marrying me."

"If I had threatened, by my behaviour, to make yo future life a
misery?"  He laughed, none too pleas anti "But had I accepted my debt
in good spirit, then ye would have claimed your reward.  Is that not
so?"  Dumb, Lexie nodded.

"And are you, by your behaviour, going to make wish that I had not won
today?"  he demanded softly.

Lexie shook her head.

"I thought not."  His fingers stroked the line of her cheekbone, ran
down to her firm chin.  His thumb lifted to smooth across her full lips
and Lexie's limbs melted.  "We both want this too much.  But, my dear,
if I thought lying with me would harm you in any way, then I should
withdraw.  But I believe the opposite.  And I cannot conceive that, to
one as unconventional as yourself, indulging in an affaire with me will
cause undue distress."

"Provided no one knows," managed Lexie hoarsely.  "My conscience is bad
enough as it is.  If I thought people--the servants, for example--were
sniggering behind my back I should not be able to hold my head up."

"No one will know.  No one saw me come."

"The sheets..."

He pursed his lips, his head on one side.  The candles lit his dark
hair, painted his face with shadows.  "You could come with me to my
room.  The servants would think nothing of finding soiled sheets on my
bed."

He was not serious.  His eyes were dancing.  But he should not laugh at
her scruples.

"You are a beast!"  she accused, pushing him away.  "Not at all."  He
refused to retreat and was, suddenly, in deadly earnest.  "If the
problem troubles you, then I suggest spreading a towel, which I
undertake to smuggle into the linen basket for you.  Will that
serve?"

"You think me a fool," muttered Lexie.  "But I could not bear for the
servants to gossip."

"No, I do not, dearest Lexie.  I think you absolutely adorable but a
little naive.  They will already be gossiping.  What harm can their
speculations do you?"

"Speculation, none.  But the stating of a proven fact ... that would be
different."

"I suppose it would.  So now, if you would point me towards a
convenient towel..."

"The washstand is in the dressing room."  Lexie indicated the door,

Without further ado Storm went through to return with the necessary
item, carefully locking that door after him, too.

"Now we cannot be disturbed," he announced, turning back the bedclothes
and spreading his trophy over the sheet.  "Come, my lady.  Allow me to
relieve you of your wrap."

CHAPTER TEN

HE REMOVED her garments, each operation a caress, lifted her up and
laid her on the bed.  Lexie, her senses heightened to an almost
unbearable pitch, watched as the gown concealing his nakedness followed
her nightgown to the floor.  She remembered the first time she had seen
him unclothed, when she had cone to her senses just in time and, for an
instant, panic almost overcame her.

What was she doing, waiting for a man who was not her husband to join
her in her bed?  But the dismay had no time to bite, for his weight
shifted the mattress beneath her and she felt the warm, entrancing
silkiness of his skin against hers as he pulled the light covers up.
Then she was in his embrace.  After that, nothing mattered except that
she was where she belonged, cradled in his arms.  This was truly coming
home.

As she relaxed against him, she realised with astonishment that he was
trembling.  Somehow, that gave Lexie the courage to touch the scar on
his cheek, to Whisper, "I am glad you gave me no choice, Storm.  My
conscience has been such a trouble to me."

"To you?  He pulled her closer.  "I have never known such a stubborn
woman!"

"Then perhaps the experience has taught you a lesson, my lord," she
teased, poking admonishingly at his chin.  "Some females do value their
virtue.  You cannot assume all of us will fall into your arms as easily
as you might expect!"

"I have only previously come across the other sort.  You, my dear,
provided a new experience."  He chuckled, kissing her curving nose. His
tone deepened.  "Oh, Lexie, my adorable one, how I have burned for
you?

"And I for you," she confessed shyly.

"Have you truly?  Then the strength of your will is greater than I had
supposed."  He shifted, leaning his weight on one elbow as he leant
over her, smoothing the golden mass of hair spread over the pillow.
"But let us not waste time on postmortems when all joy lies ahead.
Come, my dear, allow me to worship your body."

Oh!  the exquisite sensations he roused as his hands and lips travelled
from her hair to her toes.  Bed with Amber had never been like this!
Then, having exhausted new places to explore, Storm's caresses returned
to her breasts, moulding them to his touch, taking each peak in turn
into his warm, moist mouth, teasing, suckling, sending exquisite pain
to the depths of Lexie's being.  Eventually, as her hips moved
instinctively, seeking release from the almost unbearable ecstasy, his
fingers probed the source of her demand.  "How long...?"

He had no need to finish his murmured question.  "Five years," muttered
Lexie, ashamed to have to admit it.

"Then I will be' careful my love."

My love!  Did he mean it?  Or did he use the endearment to all his
mistresses?  Lexie did not, at that moment, care.

"Please, James!  Hurry?

In her passion, Lexie did not notice that she had called him by his
name for the first time.  But Storm did.  His already thundering heart
gave a great leap as he moved to cover her awakening body.  That one
word coming from her lips was worth more than a thousand other
endearments!  He had, at last, truly broken through the barrier of her
resistance.

Despite the urgency this knowledge added to his own need, he managed to
control his entry, to test her readiness before plunging deeper into
her velvety depths.

Once there he paused to regain control.  Lexie moaned and he groaned as
he began to move.  Her arms clasped his shoulders, her hips thrust
upwards in perfect rhythm with his, her beautiful legs--having kissed
and careSSed them he could envisage every strong, perfect inch of
them--tangled with his.  He stopped again, fighting against the
consummation of his own passion.

Lexie clasped him anxiously to her, strained upwards to take him deeper
in sid her, shifted her legs to embrace his hips.  Why had he stopped?
Amber had simply gone on and on, wearing away at her patience as she
waited for it to end.  But with James she did not want it to end.

"James?"  she whispered.

His voice came, ragged, breathless.  "One moment, my love.  Otherwise I
shall come too soon and I want to make this last."

"Oh."  Her hands wandered over the muscles of his back.  "But I want...
Please?"

A sort of gasping laugh greeted her plea.  "How can I refuse?"

And then he was moving again, raising the tempo, filling her senses
until she lost them completely in a wave of such purely breathtaking
sensation that she seemed to come out of her skin to hover over her own
limp, exhausted body.

For long moments she was unaware of anything but sheer joy.  Then she
discovered Storm collapsed on top of her, shuddering his own abandoned
pleasure.  She lay still, waiting for him to recover, moving only to
kiss his neck, his shoulder, in awestruck gratitude.

Eventually he lifted himself up on his elbows and looked down into her
flushed, drowning face.  Unable to resist, he kissed the passionate
mouth which had been sending messages to his groin even as he
recovered.

He gave a rueful, triumphant laugh.  "Truly a diamond of the first
water," he murmured, kissing her again, giving new meaning to a
hackneyed expression.  "Even without recent practice," he added
wickedly.  "I cannot imagine what your response will be like after a
little more application."

"You have had plenty of experience," retorted Lexie pertly.  "Such
expertise!  But oh, James, it was wonderful!  Thank you!"

"You are calling me James," he murmured.  "Do you remember my asking
you to?"  She nodded.  "And you said it sounded too familiar.  Can I
presume that no longer applies?"

"Not in private.  But in public I must continue to address you as I
have always done."

He sighed.  "I suppose so.  To do otherwise now would certainly cause
speculation."

Lexie was slowly coming down to earth.  She landed with a bump.

"As would your absence from your bed were it to be discovered!"

"Marlow is the only one even remotely likely to venture into my room,
and he has no reason.  And in any case I would trust him not to mention
the matter, even to me!"

"But you must go!"  urged Lexie, wishing with all her heart that he had
the right to remain.  "Supposing we fall asleep and the maid comes in
with my morning chocolate only to find us together!"

Through an exaggerated yawn, "I feel more like repeating our experiment
than sleeping," Storm informed her.

"Again?  Is that possible?"  Amber had only ever performed once at a
time.  It had taken him a day to recover.

"Give me a few more minutes and I will show you.  Meanwhile, there are
certain areas of your delectable body I have yet to explore."

He proceeded to do so and Lexie found her hands wandering over his hard
form, discovering the splendid muscles hidden beneath the smooth
surface of his skin.  "No fat," she murmured, pinching his ribs
playfully.  He sucked in his breath as the ticklish shock shook him.
"Riding, boxing, fencing, all keep me in as fine a fettle as my
cattle," he gasped.  "Lexie, stop it!  You'll have me helpless..."

"That will never do," she murmured provocatively.  "Can you not manage
just a little--?"

He gasped as she pinched him again.  "Witch!  It seems I can excel even
my own past performances with you!  Come here!"

She was under him again, experiencing the same sublime sensations,
finding her own exquisite release even as Storm subsided in his.

She could, thought Lexie contentedly, become addicted to the attentions
of James Graham, Marquess of Stormaston..

He left shortly afterwards, taking the towel with him.  But Lexie could
still detect his scent, that indefinable odour which was James Graham,
in the bed.  It was something, but not enough.  She wanted him there,
sleeping beside her.  Until death did them part.

Anyone looking perceptively at Lexie the next day might have guessed
that something monumental "had happened to her during the night.  And
anyone that perceptive would have been in no doubt as to the cause of
her inner glow.  Or the identity of the person responsible.

Lexie, cocooned in her euphoric dreams of the past night and of those
to come, for she had little doubt that Storm would be back, bubbled
with new energy and happiness, keeping all her guests occupied and
entertained like the able hostess she was.

Whenever she thought of what she had done she almost blushed.  She
still felt like a scarlet woman, but was too happy to care.  She wanted
to ride out with the men, to be with Storm, but dutifully remained
behind with the ladies, picking up some needlepoint she had started
during the winter and taking the frame and her silks out into the
garden where the others were enjoying the shade of an arbour built at
the end of the formal gardens.

"Why gentlemen must always be taking exercise I do not know," lamented
Miranda, for Oswald, taking his example from Storm and Felix, had
decided that an excursion on horseback would not come amiss.

"I have never liked horseback riding," Fanny remarked.

"I used to be a great horsewoman in my youth," said the Duchess. "Could
have given you a run for your money, Lady Alexia!"

"Indeed, ma'am, so your grandson has informed me."

"Used to ride all over our estates with me," said the Duke with a fond
smile.  "Until she started breeding, of course.  "

"That do put a restriction on a female's activities," agreed his wife.
"But once I stopped breedin" I took it up again.  Nothing like it."

"Oswald has never shown any inclination to like horses until now,"
lamented his mother, throwing Lexie a 1ouring glance.

Oswald, enjoying the close company of two extremely experienced
gentlemen, had begun to develop his own brand of independence.  He
tended to disregard his mother's wishes rather more than that lady
liked.

Lexie wondered that no one else seemed aware of the Undercurrents
flowing between the Young people.  Perhaps, being in love herself had
made her more sensitive to atmosphere, for to outward appearances Felix
divided his attention equally between the two young ladies who were his
fellow guests.

Oswald did likewise, although he did also contrive to attend Lexie as
often as he could.  Unfortunately, his tend're for her had not yet
died.  Lexie felt sorry for Melissa but there was no more she could do
to help her cause.

The servants plied them with refreshing drinks and the afternoon passed
pleasantly enough.  But Lexie's eyes kept straying in the direction of
the stables.  The men must return soon!  Her steward and home farm
manager, John Lyme, had ridden out with them as guide.  She wanted to
know what he and the Marquess had discussed.

Storm spoke so confidently of the advantages of the new ways of
farming.  She hoped Mr.  Lyme would be receptive to his ideas, for only
he could persuade her tenants.  She must fix a time for the meeting
they had discussed.

The men returned.  The Marquess and John Lyme appeared to be on the
best of terms and the steward presented himself before her to request
an interview to discuss the estate's affairs.  Lexie, at a nod of
approval from Storm, fixed the meeting for noon the following day.

When she went up to her room to change for dinner, Lexie discovered an
unpalatable fact.  Her monthly indisposition was upon her.  She would
be unable to receive Storm for several days.  Certainly not before the
planned end of the house party on Monday.  Perhaps--devastating
thought--last night would be the, only night of love she was ever to
know.

"Devil take it," she muttered to herself as she applied bandages.
Disappointment sent her spirits plunging.  And what would Storm think?
Although he must be familiar with women's fertility cycles, she thought
cynically.

She tried to warn him of her indisposition during the evening but the
opportunity never presented itself.  She gave him a speaking look and a
tiny shake of her head as she said good night, but he simply raised his
brows in interrogation, not understanding the message she was trying to
impart.

So his arrival was not unexpected.  Again, she was not in bed but
sitting in her chair.  She had thought it best to greet him in a less
suggestive pose.  His ardour would need dampening, not inflaming.

Nevertheless, at his stealthy entry, her heart leapt and rosy colour
flooded her cheeks.  He did want her again!  He could not have found
bedding her too disappointing.

That fact was evident in the way he looked at her as he advanced,
carrying a towel over his arm like a waiter, and with two glasses
filled with blood-red wine balanced in one hand.

He handed her one of the glasses with a flourish and bent to kiss her
lips.

"You seemed a little doubtful as to whether you wished to receive me
earlier," he murmured.  "I therefore thought it prudent to bring a
little stimulant to our enjoyment.  Let us toast each other."  He
raised his goblet.  "To us, my dear Lady Amber."

All colour fled from Lexie's face She sat down on the chair abruptly,
shaking her head.  Storm eyed her ashen cheeks and his own expectant
expression chilled.  "DO you intend to reject me?"  he drawled.

Lexie shook her head as she struggled for words.

!99

"No, believe me, James, but it is the wrong time of the month for me. I
am indisposed."

He relaxed, quite visibly.  "Is that all, my love?  Then drink up!  We
can still have a night of loving ahead, for there is no reason why we
should not cuddle each other, is there?  Here's to us, and confound our
critics?  He watched her as he drank.

Her face returned to its normal colour and a look of radiant delight
took the place of apprehension.  "To us," she whispered, lifted the
wine to her lips and gulped down a large mouthful.

He took the glass from her and raised her to her feet.  "We shall be
fully together again, never fear.  But tonight," he murmured, "I shall
give you pleasure and teach you how to release me from my frustration.
Unless you already know?"

"I have an idea," she admitted.  "Amber--'

"Do not let us speak of him!  I have no wish to be reminded of any man
who had you before me.  I--" he laughed ruefully "--who have never yet
despoiled a virgin and have therefore always followed others in tasting
the delights of feminine charms, discover that I am capable of sexual
jealousy!  An emotion new to me.  I find this difficult to explain,
even to myself."

As she slipped out of her garments and took her place in the bed,
Lexie's spirits lifted.  If he felt like that then perhaps she could
hope that he might come to love her as she loved him.  The likelihood
appeared remote but it was a hope she must cling to.  Nothing else
could keep at bay the chilling prospect of rejection when he tired of
her.  As he had tired of all his women before her.

At least, she consoled herself, he found her a new experience.  Her
pride would have suffered sorely had he simply classed her with all the
rest.  She could not have borne to be simply one of his women, no
different in his eyes to all the others.

Once the house party broke up he planned to take her to stay with his
old nurse, in whose eyes, apparently, Master James could do no wrong,
who would have no objection to their sharing a bedroom, and whom he
could trust never to mention their visit to a soul.

"She wished to retire to the sea," he had explained before leaving her,
"and I set her up in a house in a tiny resort on the Essex coast called
Frinton.  Neither of us is known there, although I have visited Nanny
Dean once or twice--on my own," he hastened to reassure her.

"We may stay with her completely incognito.  Marlow can put up at the
local inn.  I shall need him with me to fetch and carry and generally
make himself useful to us both.  !  would trust my life to his
discretion.  What do you say, my love?"

"Yes" responded Lexie after only the slightest hesitation.  Desperate
as she was to spend time with Storm, she could not rid herself of the
idea that to do so was a sin.  But her conscience had caused her to
hesitate for too long already.  She would take what happiness he
offered and suffer the consequences later, if she must.

Which reminded her of another unpalatable fact she had ignored until
now.  Clearly, their single act of union had not resulted in any
unwanted child.  Unwanted only because she was unwed, of course. Wanted
most desperately, if only she were Storm's wife.  But facts were facts
and faced with them she could not contemplate giving birth to a
bastard.

On past performance Storm would not care, though he would take care of
the child financially--but what of her?  If she did not suffer her
confinement in secret and abandon the child immediately afterwards, but
brought it up herself, which she would most certainly wish to do, she
would be branded a harlot and ostracised from Society.  More to the
point, the child would bear the brand of bastardy all its life.

She could decide to wed another suitor in haste to obtain a name for
the infant, but that would not be honest or to her taste.  Storm might
offer marriage--but he had never felt under any obligation to do so in
the past, so why should he now?  And she would never ask him to marry
her again.  SO it would be best to avoid any such complication,

In Cornwall Lexie had visited the local wise woman several times in her
capacity as the lady of the manor.  Desperate over not conceiving
Amber's heir, she had sought her advice.

"Ee can try this potion, my dear, but "e be too gone in years, to my
way of thinking," old Demelza had told her.  "Find yersel" a young man
and "ee'll start breeding soon enough.  Then, like as not, "ee'll want
to know as how to stop being brought to childbed too often."

Lexie, from curiosity, had asked her how this could be achieved and
been regaled with details of many devices to prevent conception and
some proven ways to abort an unwanted baby.  She could not remember
them all, and would never get rid of a baby once conceived, but she did
remember something of what the old woman had said.  And decided to
acquire a sponge and a supply of vinegar before leaving for Hssex.

Foresight had already dealt with the question of Chalker.  Her only
remaining problem would be getting to the Saracen's Head at Chelmsford,
where she was to meet Storm.  But even that was solved by the end of
the house party.  On Storm's suggestion she announced her intention to
make a very private visit to an old--fictitious--school friend she had
discovered to be living in St.  Albans.

In her own unorthodox way, Lexie would insist on riding there without
escort, stable Danny in the city, and from there make her way to
Chelmsford.  An adventure!  She had a choice, she could go by post
chaise, but preferred to take the stage coach, a new experience which
she did not expect to be pleasant, but if Chalker could do it, so could
she;

On his way back to his room one night, Storm almost bumped into Felix.
Both men looked put out until the comedy of the situation shook them
both with laughter.  Felix, Storm thought, qooked decidedly sheepish
and he wondered into whose bed his friend had strayed.

Felix might well guess where he had been, but Storm could rely
absolutely" on his discretion.  As Felix could rely on his.  That two
confirmed rakes should meet in a dark corridor after each had visited
an obliging female caused neither of them undue surprise.

'0o and get some sleep, my dear fellow," chuckled Storm.

"You too, my friend.  It would not do for either of us to appear
exhausted tomorrow."

"What would my grandmother say?"  agreed Storm lightly.  He had refused
to allow her presence to inhibit his actions.  Lexie, he suspected,
might have invited his grandparents with that hope in mind.

"Or our delightful hostess.  I wish you a good night--what is left of
it!"

Felix did guess, thought Storm ruefully.  For himself he did not mind,
but he hoped Lexie need never discover that Felix had guessed their
secret.

Lexie would take only what would fit into a couple of saddlebags and a
pack strapped behind her saddle.  Chalker, due to leave for London at
any moment, had insisted on helping her mistress, murmuring all the
while, "However will you manage, my lady, with only these few
things?"

When Cousin Caro joined in Chalker's lament, Lexie lost her temper.

"Excellently well, I believe.  Now, stop your lamentations, if you
please!  I am quite capable of looking after myself for a week or so,
and if I find I lack for anything I can always visit a shop!  Really,
Caro," she went on, when Chalker had been persuaded to go down to the
gig waiting to take her into St.  Albans.  "Such a fuss!  You know how
I dislike being trammelled by convention!  I am taking an opportunity
to escape!  A real holiday!  Do not deny me these few days of
freedom!"

Caro pursed her lips and fluttered a hand."  "If I could believe that
was all it was.  You could easily have arranged to travel into St.
Albans with Chalker.  But you will please yourself, as always, Alexia."
She sighed, and her voice wavered.  "Why you bother to have me live
with you as your companion and chaperon i cannot conceive?

"Because you add respectability to what are considered to be my rackety
ways, Cousin!"

"Which you promptly squander on some new exploit!  As though racing
your curricle against a gentleman for money were not enough!  Now you
are off, the dear Lord knows where, all on your own, without even
Chalker or Jeffs to keep you company!  I do declare, you will be the
death of me, Alexia!"

"Nonsense!"  Lexie spoke bracingly.  "I am not some poor thing who
needs cos setting every moment of her life!  I am going to visit a
friend!"

Childishly, she crossed her fingers behind her back.  Lies did not come
easily to her but on this occasion some were unavoidable.  Although
this one had an element of truth in it.

"She will have a servant to look after me.  Now, I trust you to see to
things in the house in my absence.  Mr.  Lyme has the estate in hand; I
am so glad he is enthusiastic about the changes Lord Stormaston
suggested."  "

"Anyone might think," said Caro in a resigned tone, 'that his lordship
owned the place, the way he was laying down the law!"

Lexie, remembering the authority Storm had brought to bear on poor John
Lyme, secretly agreed.  "But he achieved his ends--which were mine,"
she pointed out.  "I asked him to persuade Mr.  Lyme.  He did it for
me."

"It seems to me he would do almost anything for you, Alexia.  He
certainly behaved as though he had every right... I wonder he has not
declared himself yet."

"Oh, he w'fil never marry," said Lexie airily, ignoring the pain the
assertion gave her.

"Hmm."  Cato eyed her pink face suspiciously.  "It seemed to me-But
there..."  She cut herself off with another resigned sigh.  "He flirts
with every woman he meets, even the Duchess.  He cannot help it.  So I
suppose there was really nothing particular in the way he looked at
you."

Lexie caught her breath.  "Of course there was not," she maintained.

"But by the way you look at him, my love, you declare your feelings for
all to see.  You will have to be more careful when we return to London,
or gossip will be fuelled anew.  And although you are my benefactor and
I have no authority over you, Alexia, I do consider myself to have a
responsib'tlity towards you.  I feel I must warn you."

"Of course you must, but you are imagining things, Cousin Cato!  I look
upon his lordship as I would on any gentleman friend!"

"I," remarked Cato with a shrug, "have never seen you look at anyone in
quite the way you look at his lordship."

Dear Lord, were her feelings plain for all to see?  She had thought
herself circumspect in her dealings with Storm.  Yet Caro-But Caro had
had a clue, had known her to be interested in marriage to the Marquess.
So she had imagined the rest.

At least, Lexie hoped so.  It would be too mortifying for words were
all her acquaintance to realise that she had fallen in love with the
most notorious rake in Town.

Aiming to be in St.  Albans before nine o'clock, Lexie left early the
following day, riding a frisky Danny.  But, bowing to the anxiety and
outrage of Jethro Pascoe, she had agreed to allow Jeffs to accompany
her to the outskirts of the city.  And had been persuaded to hire a man
to ride back with her at the end of her visit.

"Tis not safe for a young woman like yourself to undertake such a
journey alone," he had scolded.  "What be you thinking of, my lady? Get
away from everything if you must, but do be sensible and take
precautions against being set upon by thieves and vagabonds!"

So Jeffs rode at Danny's rump and Lexie was not sorry for the company.
It would have been a long anxious ride had she been alone, with all
kinds of travellers on the road and many a thicket near enough to
conceal footpads and robbers.

"There is no need for you to come further that that inn just along the
road, Jeffs," she said as they came upon the first houses "Your may
assure Mr.  Pascoe that I arrived quite safely.  Refresh yourself in
the inn before you return,"

She handed Jeffs a coin; he touched his hat and dismounted at the door
of the Weary Traveller protesting his gratitude.

Free of his company, Lexie made haste to find her way to the coaching
inn where she was to pick up the stage.  She did not know the town well
and had to ask her way more than once.  She arrived with a sense of
relief and pride in achievement.  She was perfectly able to survive on
her own!

Dismounting in the yard, she handed Danny over to an ostler, asking
that her packs be removed and the animal stabled and cared for until
she returned to claim him.  She was about to conclude the arrangements
with the man pointed out as in charge when she caught sight of a
familiar figure striding purposefully towards her.

Clad in country clothes, twill breeches and stout leather boots, a
rough woollen coat and low brown beaver hat, his appearance still
managed to stop her heart.

"Did you really imagine I would allow you to travel alone?"  he asked,
as he nodded a greeting.  Formal bows and curtsies would not have been
in place, but his eyes, warm and smiling, told her he was pleased to
see her.  And hers--hem probably revealed her overwhelming joy at the
sight of him.

Marlow appeared at his shoulder, dressed simply and wearing a
disapproving look.  Used as he was to his master's adventures, he still
did not have to approve all the cloak-and-dagger intrigue which was
accompanying this al faire

"Marlow will" deal with the stabling of your horse, you may trust him
to see it done right, and he will see your bags put into my carriage,"
Storm went on, as Lexie, overwhelmed by his sudden appearance, seemed
lost for words.  "We will go inside and partake of some refreshment."
He turned to Marlow.  "Take some yourself when you have made the
arrangements," he instructed.

"Yes, sir," said Marlow, emphasising the last word.

"He objects," murmured Storm, as he took Lexie's arm and ushered her
towards the inn door, "to having to call me' sir instead of "my lord".
He considers it infra dignitatem."

"Poor Marlow," said Lexie, recovering her voice, though it quivered
with emotion.  "How our servants do disapprove of our ruses and
foibles!  Chalker was almost in tears over the few clothes I was
proposing to bring and Jethro talked me into allowing Jeffs to escort
me to the edge of the town!"

"Sensible fellow, Pascoe.  I like him.  I believe you could have taken
him into your confidence.  But thanks to him or not, you have arrived
safely and I swear we shall not be parted again until we must return to
our separate establishments."

"You could not promise anything which would content me more," she
assured him,

Having partaken of light refreshments in a rather crowded inn par lout
where the Marquess, despite his unremarkable clothes, was accorded
instant attention, his quality being unmistakable, Storm led her out to
his waiting equipage, Lexie eyed it with amusement.

"Where on earth did you find that old chariot?"  she demanded.

"At the back of the coach h3use at Stormaston.  And the hired
horseflesh is scarcely of the standard I normally use.  However, one
must keep up appearances.  If we are to behave as an ordinary couple
for a while, we must look the part."

Trust Storm to enter into the spirit of the enterprise and to do things
thoroughly, thought Lexie fondly.

The chariot, although elderly, was well sprung and comfortably
cushioned inside.  Lexie did not long lament her lost opportunity to
take the stage, especially when she saw it arrive already laden with
passengers and luggage.  She would have found no room inside and been
condemned to a seat on top.

"No," said Storm, handing her into the chariot and nodding meaningfully
towards the crowded coach.  "I could not allow you to travel in such
discomfort!  And knowing you, my dear Lexie, I guessed you would chose
to travel that way rather than by post chaise."

"Post chaises can be dirty and smelly," Lexie reminded him.  "I thought
the stage would be an experience."

"One you would do well to avoid unless in an extremity!  The mail coach
would be preferable."

"Is Marlow to drive?"  asked Lexie as Storm followed her into the
chariot's interior.

"He is taking the first stage, then we shall drive turn and turn about,
all night.  if necessary.  But we should arrive before midnight unless
anything untoward' happens The journey should not take much more than
ten hours."

Ten hours, half of them spent in close proximity to Storm in the
confines of the coach, the other half spent watching his broad
shoulders through the front window as he shared the box with Marlow
when he took the ribbons.  Definitely better than travelling by the
stage.

In fact, for the last part of the journey Marlow did all the driving
while Lexie dozed, her head cradled on Storm's shoulder.

They arrived in darkness.  Marlow drew the horses up before a neat
cottage on the outskirts of the small resort nestling on the shore.

"In daylight you can see the sea," Storm told her as she staggered out,
to be caught fast in his arms.

Lexie yawned, moving to ease her cramped muscles.  "Like Cornwall," she
murmured.

"I doubt it!  The coast is quite different here.  No cliffs.  Flat as a
pancake."

At that moment the door was flung open, revealing a small figure
holding a candle high, while behind her more candles and a lamp threw
out a welcoming glow.

"Master James!"  cried his old nurse.  "I thought I heard you arrive!
Do bring the poor young lady in at one!"

"Martha!"  Storm moved forWard, his arm about Lexie's shoulders.  "This
is Mistress Lexie."

"Any friend of Master James is welcome here," said Martha, eyeing Lexie
approvingly and bobbing a small curtsy.

"Thank you, Mrs.  Dean."

"Do call me Martha, my dear.  Master James always does."

No further explanations were necessary.  Storm had laid the foundations
for the visit with great care.  Martha took them up to a large, airy
room on the first floor, decorated in cream with cheerful floral drapes
and covers, cotton rather thafi Silk, but none the worse for that.  A
washstand stood in one corner with an ewer of water in the basin and
towels hung on a rail.

"You'll want to wash the dirt of the journey off yourselves," remarked
Martha.  "I'll fetch a kettle of hot water, there's one simmering on
the stove."

"I'll go;" said Storm.  "I'll not have you fetching and carrying for
us, Martha.  Where's Daisy, your help?"

"She's been abed this last hour or more.  She'll bring a kettle up in
the morning, empty your slops and the like."

"I won't be long," promised Storm, dropping a light kiss on Lexie's
lips as he passed on his way to follow Martha downstairs.

"I shah probably be asleep," yawned Lexie.

"Then I shall have to wake you up."

His eyes laughed into hers.  But he meant it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SE had no time to do more than remove her pelisse and bonnet before
Storm returned with a huge ewer of hot water.

"We must share this, I fear," he told her, smiling wickedly.  "Just as
we must share everything else while we are here.  Do you need help to
undress?"

Lexie laughed softly and turned her back.  "Chalker normally undoes the
fastenings of my gown.  If you would not mind?"

"A privilege, madame.  Just a moment while I fill the basin and deposit
this jug.  Now, let me see..."

His skilled fingers soon unhooked the back of her gown, which he
smoothed forward over her shoulders, brushing the enticing swell of her
breasts as it fell to her feet.  Lexie stepped out of the crumpled tan
serge, an old but sturdy gown doing duty as a summer travelling dress.
She bent forward to pick it up, but Storm's arms prevented her.  His
mouth nuzzled the curve where creamy shoulder met slender neck while
his hands cupped her thrusting breasts.  "I haven't finished," he
murmured thickly.  "The ties of your chemise..."

Lexie gave a shuddering sigh.  "Stop it, James, or we shall never
finish undressing and washing!"

"Do you really want me to?"  he asked, mock indignation warring with
laughter in his voice.

"No, but--'

"Then I shall not."  His teeth nipped her ear but one of his hands left
its erotic fondling to tug at the bows of her garment,

"Do be sensible," protested Lexie, whose legs were beginning to lose
their strength.  "I really must wash the dirt of the journey off before
we go to bed."

Storm sighed.  "Cleanliness before sinfulness, I do declare?

"Oh, Storm!  Do not remind me!"

"My regrets, sweet Lexie, I was only joking.  A jest in bad taste, I
acknowledge.  Pray do not let it spoil things for you."

His voice held real contrition as he turned her to him and dropped a
gentle kiss on her parted lips.  His eyes, blue as a summer sky," gazed
down into the clouded green depths of hers.  "I will make you forget,"
he promised.

Lexie gave herself a mental shake.  She had been so delightfully
relaxed and happy it would be a crime to allow a careless word to ruin
their time together.  She had taken the decision to come.  She could
not allow conscience to intrude now.

Her eyes cleared.  "I was-being idiotish," she admitted.

"Only very slightly.  The greater stupidity was mine.  And I shall
suffer for it," he announced in resigned tones.

Lexie frowned.  "You, suffer?  How?"

"I have appointed myself your lady's maid.  I shall undress and wash
you and put you to bed.  But I have no one to do a similar service for
me."

"Oh, no?"  Lexie grinned, all qualms forgotten.  "If your lordship
would deign to instruct me in the art, I

am perfectly willing to undertake the duties of your man."

"You are?"  He sounded delighted.  "Oh what joy!  We shall tend each
other like delicate blossoms--" "Don't be a fool, James!"

But Lexie was laughing, revelling in this new, teasing, light-hearted
facet of the man she loved.

Tend her he did, washing her from her forehead to the soles of her
feet, drying her with rough, abrasive strokes that set the blood
coursing through her veins.  When she reached for her nightgown he
stayed her hand.

YoU do not need that, my love."

Lexie nodded and, feeling excessively wicked, undressed him and bathed
him while herself remaining quite naked.

By the time they tumbled into bed they could not wait.  The fusion of
their bodies came almost instantaneously.  But, tired as she had
thought herself, Lexie did not sleep but responded to Storm's
lovemaking as often as he was able to revive his own resources.
Daylight was streaking rocnd the curtains before they dropped at last
into the sleep" of utter exhaustion.

The days passed in quick succession, golden days of early autumn as
August faded into September.  They walked, rode hired horses, lazed on
the beach and even made use of the single bathing machine the little
resort boasted.  But above all they made love.  The week they had
promised themselves flew by, turned into two and then ran into a third.
Lexie wanted their time together never to end.

Storm, surprised that his initial passion seemed not one whit abated by
more than two whole weeks of

Lexie's exclusive company and the innumerable occasions upon which he
had possessed her, began to assess the possibilities for carrying on
the affair once they resumed normal life.

"I really must return to Wiltshire," he sighed.  "I may not neglect my
duties any longer."

"Duty?  lamented Lexie.  "How I wish we could live like this for ever,
simply, our needs small, able to exist on a competence?

"How bored we should both become without some kind of occupation!"

"You can say that, when you idle about Town for.  the most part of the
year.9'

"There, dear Lexie, I must beg to differ!  I normally spend far more
time at Stormaston Park and travelling around my other estates than I
do in Town?

"So you may.  I apologise!  But for myself, I could find plenty to do,
even in a place like this."

Looking after our children, she dreamed but did not say.

"But what of the challenges you so much enjoy, the social round you
craved when isolated far from Town?  No, my love, you would Soon tire
of playing the milkmaid, just as you tired of Cornwall!  Administering
my estates takes time and skills which I enjoy deploying.  And I should
sadly miss experimenting in my laboratory were it taken from me!  I am
on the very point of completing the design of an engine to work the
water pump!"

He had told her of his interest in steam engines, his self-imposed task
of discovering how they worked and how best to utilise their power, and
Lexie shook her head.  Such an interest did not sit well with his
reputation, but she was fast discovering that the man she loved was far
from the idle rake he appeared to be.  "You will blow yourself up one
day!"

"Do not fear for me!  But I have been thinking.  We need to plan how to
go on once we return to the world.  I think it best if I find a
convenient house or flat in London where we can meet as often as we
like.  If we are discreet--'

"No!"

Lexie's flat denial cut him off short.  He studied her angry face in
astonishment.

"But I thought you would want to continue--'

"I denied my conscience to pay my debt."  Disappointment that he could
propose nothing more than the continuation of a casual affaire after
the rapturous time they had spent together roused Lexie's anger.  She
would not carry on as his mistress.  She had far too much pride.  If he
could not see that his precious freedom meant nothing in the face of
what they shared together, then he could enjoy it without her help.

"The length of time I should submit' to being your mistress was never
mentioned.  I am now saying that leaving here marks the end."

His clipped response made Lexie shiver.  "Very well.  If that is your
wish.  Our liaison ends here."

Storm was angry, too.  Knowing he still wanted her, the creature was no
doubt hoping to force him into offering her more.  He would not be
blackmailed into marriage, the idea of which he both disliked and
feared.  All his years of adolescence had been circumscribed, his
behaviour dictated by others.  His freedom was too precious to be
surrendered for the sake of mere carnal delight.  There were plenty of
willing women in the world.

The anguish in Lexie's eyes almost undid him; but her bitter words
served to strengthen his resolve.

"I am unused to the courtesies normally observed in a situation like
this and bow to your superior knowledge, but if you are expecting me to
wait until you tire of me and decide to dispense with my services, then
You are sadly mistaken, my lord.  I will not be cast aside like soiled
linen!"

"Then it is certainly best that we part as soon as possible," he bit
back.  "But we cannot depart now, it is too late.  We must wait until
tomorrow.  Neither can I conveniently vacate your bed.  I do not wish
to distress Martha.  So--" His manner changed as he reached for her
hands and smiled his most rakish smile.  The smile that ravaged her
senses.  "One last night together, eh?"  he suggested.

Lexie swallowed.  He was attempting to manipulate her and she knew it.
She was sorely tempted to accept one last night of Heaven before she
need contemplate the bleak future.  She had, after all, suspected that
he would not offer marriage even had she become pregnant.  So nothing
had actually changed.

But even as she thought of it.  her senses rebelled, She could not
stand to have him touch her under the circumstances.  She shook her
head.  "We will share the bed if we must, but I cannot agree to
anything more.  I will go up now and pack."

Storm'hid his triumph.  Tonight he would have a last chance to slake
the raging desire the woman roused in him, for she would not be able to
resist his skilled wooing.  Then, after they Parted next day, he would
put her from his mind.

It did not quite work out that way.  He had forgotten Lexie's will, her
ability to deny her own desires.  He should have remembered that
occasion in the flat.  At his first overture, Lexie stiffened.  "No,
Storm.  You will have to force me."

"I think not, my dear.  You may not wish to continue the relationship,
but your craving for me is not yet dead."

She did not deny his charge.  "But my willingness to indulge it is! Our
intimate relationship is over.  It should never have been.  Leave me
alone, Storm, or I shall have to seek refuge with Martha."

How long she could have withstood the searing demands of her body Lexie
did not know.  But her threat sobered him and he desisted.

"You are a fool, Lexie," he grittedl "But I am not an animal, whatever
you may think.  I shall not attempt to force you against your will.  I
wish you a good night."

He turned his back, grappling with his need.  Lexie's breathing became
steady behind him.  How easily she had fallen asleep!  Had he really
failed to stir her?

He lay for a long time contemplating a future without the warmth of her
near him and did not like it.  But he would reCOver.

He almost got up to walk off his frustration, but before he had quite
decided on that course he fell asleep.  Only as he edged into oblivion
did his mind register that the things he valued most about her, her
courage and pride, her determination, her principles, even her refusal
to be entirely restricted by convention, remained intact.  And had
defeated his rash assumption that she would be willing to countenance
anything he might desire.

He should have been more circumspect.  He would try a more subtle
approach in the morning.

But when he woke he found her side of the bed empty.

At first he did not worry.  She had woken early and gone for a walk. Or
gone down to make herself a drink in the kitchen, something she had
taken to doing whenever either of them felt thirsty, for she enjoyed a
cose with Martha, with whom she got on fatuously.

But when he rose and went downstairs there was no sign of her.

"Has Mistress Lexie gone out?"  he asked Daisy, who was busy clearing
the grate preparatory to boiling up water for washing.

"I haven't seen her, sir," said Daisy, her rosy face beaming up at the
handsome gentleman.

Martha was still abed.  Storm returned to the room they had shared and
only then did he notice that all Lexie's things had gone.

"The Devil!  She has walked out on me!"

Nothing remotely like it had ever happened to him before.  He had
always been the one to end an affaire.  Rejection tasted bitter.

But then he shrugged.  What did it matter?  They were to part today in
any case.  The end of an affaire.  Nothing new in that.  And perhaps
she had merely woken early and gone to wake Marlow to have him prepare
the chariot for the journey.  That must be it.  But why take all her
things?

Frowning, Storm descended the stairs again.  "I am going to the inn to
speak to Marlow," he informed Daisy, who was by now scrubbing the
floor.

The small place boasted only the one stables and post house, which were
attached to the inn.  The stables showed signs of life, but Marlow was
nowhere to be seen.

"Not down yet, sir," a pot boy told him upon enquiry.

"Have you seen the lady who normally accompanies me?"

"I seen her, sir.  Hired the post chaise an hour ago.  Had to wake the
post boy.  Grumpy, he were, at being roused so early from his bed."

Storm cursed under his breath.  He could probably catch her up, but why
trouble?  She wanted to go and should be safe enough in a hired chaise.
He would knack Marlow up, tell him they were returning to Stormaston
Park forthwith, and after submitting to Marlow's razor, go back for
breakfast and bid Martha farewell.

Lady Amber would soon be forgotten once he returned to his estates, his
duties and his experiments.

Lexie scarcely noticed the discomfort and poor state of the series of
chaises which carried her to St.  Albans.  ForCed to change carriages
at every stage, she was glad to have only scanty luggage with her.  She
arrived, after hours spent dully watching the rise and fall of a
succession of postilions" bottoms, with just enough time to make the
journey to Merryfield before dark.  Or--should she take accommodation
for the night and ride back tomorrow, at a respectable hour?

She decided on the latter course.  She had slept scarcely a wink last
night, though she had pretended to while the hot tears ran silently
down to soak her pillow.  Storm, she knew, had lain awake, too, though
she sensed immediately when at last his breathing changed to the steady
rhythm that told her he was asleep.

As the first streaks of dawn lit the sky she had slipped out of bed,
silently donned her travelling gown, fearful of waking him with every
rustle, picked up her bags and crept from the house.  She regretted not
being able to say goodbye to Martha but the old lady already knew how
grateful she was for her hospitality.  She would write her thanks the
moment she reached home.

Now she needed time to recover her composure, to rehearse the story she
would tell, to garner enough courage to smile, smile, smile, when she
wanted to hide away and cry her heartache away.

Told who she was and having been shown several gold coins, the
innkeeper discovered that he did have a small, private room the lady
could have for the night.  The head ostler would be pleased to allow
her to inspect her animal and he could arrange for one of his stable
hands to ride out to Merry field with her the next day.

If the story spread that Lady Amber had slept at the Post House alone
and unaccompanied, she would think of some explanation.  A sudden
emergency at her friend's--anything would do.  She was, at that time,
past caring what anyone thought.  Except that she must hide her hurt.
She could not bear to be looked upon with pity.

So she rode into the stable yard at Merry field, paid off the man who
had accompanied her, and returned Jethro's greeting with every
appearance of cheerful good humour.  Danny did not seem to have
suffered unduly from his period in stables, though Jethro looked
askance at his rough coat and slightly tangled mane.

"We'll soon have him trimmed and gleaming again," he promised.  "I
trust you enjoyed your visit, my lady?"

"Very much, thank you," answered Lexie, truthfully.  She would always
have those golden days to remember as she drifted into elderly
widowhood.

But as she settled back into the routine at Merryfield she found the
unadulterated company of her cousin somewhat tedious.  It certainly did
nothing to relieve her misery.  Caro's presence had been fine in
London, when she was out most of the time and entertaining for much of
the remainder, with Caro organising her household.  She had scarcely
noticed Caro's incessant chatter about trifling matters.

The truth was, she was missing Storm.  His company had made all else
bearable.  Without it, life had become a wasteland.

She could not allow herself to drift into an uncaring decline.  She did
not need o marry, yet she had gone to London wanting to, for life was
not pleasant or easy for a woman alone, however well situated.  She had
not looked for love before she met Storm.  Just affection and
compatibility.  Having fallen disastrously in love, she had thought she
could never marry anyone else, but... If only there were some decent
gentleman of suitable rank able to fill the empty places in her life,
he might manage to change her mind.  She needed children to love, to
take away the ache the loss of Storm had left in her heart.  Every time
she had used her sponge and vinegar, she had had to grit her teeth.

It had been effective, for her monthly show had arrived spot on time
almost as soon as she returned to Merryfield, relieving her of anxiety
in that quarter, yet bringing a new cause for grief.  Storm had passed.
no comment on her precautions.  She wondered whether he had noticed.
But having his child outside wedlock would not have been the answer.

Perhaps there would be different gentlemen in London looking for wives
during the Little Season before Christmas.  From what he had said, she
did not think Storm would be returning to Town before the New Year,
except for short business visits.  He had no plan to circulate in
Society.  So she could take up residence in Bruton Street without fear
of running into him at every turn.

"We are returning to London," she told Cato that evening.  "I need to
do some shopping."

To her surprise, Cato beamed.  "I shall not be sorry, Alexia.  Life
here seems rather dull, does it not?"

"I did not think you would find it so!"

"I enjoy running the household here, of course, but-" Caro gave Lexie a
guilty look "--I do miss a comfortable cose with Mrs.  Seacombe."

"So you must!  Well, I am glad we are agreed.  Shall we leave at the
end of next week?"

"I will go ahead and make certain that all is in readiness to receive
you!"

"That will scarcely be necessary, Cousin.  A note to Mr.  Dymock should
be sufficient.  Mrs.  Walker is quite capable of catering for us
without supervision.  We may travel together in the coach.  Pascoe can
arrange for my horses and curricle to follow."

"You'll be dashing about in that again, !  collect.  Will you never
change, Alexia?"

"Not if !  can help it," said Lexie grimly, envisioning some future
husband frowning at her capers and forbidding them, She would have to
be very sure of her man before she consented to relinquish her
freedom.

For the first time, she appreciated Storm's reluctance to abandon his.
But surely he knew that she would not attempt to restrict him?  At
least, not in ways unconnected with women!  Just as she was certain he
would not seek to restrain her?

Resolutely, she put such thought from her mind.  She would forget.  One
day, as she watched her children grow up, she would wonder why she had
allowed herself to be made so unhappy.

But tears gathered in her eyes as she acknowledged that they would not
be James's children.

Once back in Bruton Street Lexie set about visiting acquaintances who
were in residence and leaving her card.  To her surprise, the
Downshires were back in Grosvenor Square.

"My dear," said the Duchess, eyeing Lexie critically.  "How delightful
to see you again so soon.  I did not expect you to return to Town until
the main Season next year."

"Neither did I," admitted Lexie.  "But the estate does not need my
attention and I missed the social life to be found here.  A number of
acquaintances seem to have either remained or returned to Town.  My
diary

22."

will soon be full!  I trust I shall see both you and Farm3 at many of
the functions."

"Probably not," said the Duchess, her express lot sobering.  "We are
here to enable the Duke to consul a heart specialist.  He is being"
forced to adhere to strict regime, which I am certain he would seer
abandon should we return to Downshire.  He declare."  that he is not
ready to quit his lease just yet, but we are all most concerned over
his health.  James has returned to Town to be on hand should his
presence be required."

"Oh, how sorry I am!"  cried Lexie.  "I did so enjoy entertaining His
Grace at Merryfield.  He is one of the few gentlemen who would not
condemn me for racing my curricle against his grandson!"

"Considers you a rare plucked "un.  Don't censure James for allowin"
the wager, either.  There are those who think it most reprehensible of
my grandson to take money from a lady as a result of winnin'.  But he
is well used to weatherin" such criticism.  He seems to court it.  How
are you, my dear?  You do not look in plump currant at the moment." "

The Duchess's sudden change of topic took Lexie by surprise.  She had
been sleeping badly and eating little.  She knew she looked tired and
drawn and mention of James had almost overset her.  But she turned to
Fanny with a laugh.  "Just because I have grown thin everyone thinks I
am ill!"

Fanny nodded.  "I seem to be adding flesh and everyone tells me how
well I look.  As though weight had anything to do with it!"

"Do call again, my dear," pressed the Duchess as

Lexie took her leave.  "You know we shall always be pleased to receive
you."

To Lexie's relief, Storm appeared to be retired from Society for the
moment.  As far as she could gather, he spent most of his time at
White's.  A much improved Hugo appeared at Grosvenor Square, splendid
in his uniform.  He had been granted compassionate leave to visit his
grandfather.

"Best thing I ever did," he informed Lexie when they met.  "Havin" a
splendid time in the army, enjoyin" the life immensely.  Fine crowd of
fellows in my mess, don't you know.  We get up to all kinds of
larks."

"Innocent ones, I trust?"  murmured Lexie sweetly, seething that he had
put it forward as his idea to purchase a pair of colours and anxious
that the good name of Graham should not suffer by his pranks.

"Oh, no harm in it, no harm at all.  We hunt every day, ride like fury.
Tally ho!"

He did seem pleased with himself and with life, which must be a relief
to Storm.  And to his grandparents.

"He is much changed, "the Duchess confided in the privacy of her
boudoir, to which, some weeks later, Lexie had been invited.  "We was
becomin" worried over him.  Threatened to become frivolous, vain and
spiteful.  The discipline seems to be knockin" those unfortunate traits
out of him.  James bought his commission, y'know.  Wanted to join the
army himself years ago, but Downshire and I managed to persuade him
against.  Have you seen him lately?"

Lexie's heart continued to hammer, as it always did when Storm was
mentioned.  She clasped her hands in her lap, then plucked at the wool
and silk mixture of her soft violet morning gown.  "No, ma'am.  He is
not attending many functions.  We have not met since my return to
London."

"Hmm."  The knotted fingers arranged her grey skirts more comfortably
as the Duchess lay back on her chaise longue.  "Just as well, the mood
he is in.  Never known him so morose.  Nothing right."  She raised her
lorgnette.  "Have you quarrelled?"

Lexie flushed.  "We are no longer on the best of terms."

"Won't ask why."  She dropped the glasses to her lap.  "Reprobate won't
wed you, I collect.  Do him good not to get his own way in
everythin'."

"He did not get it over joining the army," Lexie reminded the Duchess
quietly.

"No, but there.  ain't been many things he's been denied since he came
of age.  Especially women.  "Runs through "era like smoke."

Lexie winced.

"But there don't seem to be anyone at the moment," went on the Duchess
disingenuously.  "Treat him kindly when you meet.  You can never tell,
with James.  He don't give in easily; but when he does, he does it
handsomely?

Unable to stand any more of the Duchess's hints, Lexie turned the
subject.  "Has Fanny any new suitors?"

"One or two.  But she don't take any notice of "era.  She's like James
in that.  Won't do what she don't want to.  But she's young.  I've
heard that Cranley is after you.  What do you think of him, eh?"

Lexie chose her words carefully.  "He seems a kind, decent sort of
gentleman.  Pleasant enough."  But wildly boring.

"Will never set the Thames on fire, but he's well placed.  You could do
worse than consider him if James refuses to come up to scratch. Cranley
is turned forty.

He won't wait much longer to find himself a wife."  "No."

The Duchess took the hint and the conversation turned to fashion for
the winter ahead.  It was already chilly and damp, with fogs rising off
the Thames.  Fanny came in and joined the conversation.  She was
looking particularly wan, in Lexie's opinion, despite her rounded
figure.  She wondered how much she was seeing of Lord Dexter, for Felix
was in Town.

A couple of days later she was surprised to be told that Lady Fanny
Graham was below, asking if her ladyship would receive her.

"Alone?"  asked Lexie in surprise.  Fanny usually came with the
Duchess.

"Apart from her servant, my lady."

"Send her up immediately!"

Lexie had no other callers that morning and received Fanny in the
morning-room, where she had been sitting at her writing table composing
letters to her mother in Ireland and John Lyme at Merryfield.

"Fanny!"  she greeted her friend.  "How nice to see you!  Do sit
down."

She indicated a comfortable winged armchair and Fanny perched on the
edge of the seat, clearly in a considerable state of agitation.

"Oh, Lexie!"  she exclaimed.  "I do hope you may be able to help us!"

Lexie lifted enquiring golden eyebrows.  "Us?"  "Felix and me."  Fanny
swallowed.  "I am pregnant."

Lexie, who had subsided into the depths of her comfortable chair, sat
up straight.

"By Felix?"  As though she needed to ask!  The rake!  "Yes, but it is
not what you think!  I begged him to make love to me.  We were
desperate, you see.  We love each other so, but we both knew from
things James has said that he would never approve the match.  He has as
good as warned Felix off.  Yet Felix has changed, he does not even look
at other women and would abandon everything for me!  But I will not
allow that."

Now that the flood-gates had opened, Fanny seemed unable to stop her
rush of words.  Her hands were twisting together in her lap "We could
elope but just think of the scandal!  And I believe that once he is
faced with the fact of my condition, James will have to permit our
marriage.  That is why I did it she finished on a gulp.

"I cannot deny that you astonish me, Fanny!  When did you conceive this
desperate plan?"

"At Merryfield.  Felix came to me there.  It was easy.  And I began
increasing immediately.  I wasn't certain at first, I have never been
very regular, you know, but I am quite sure now.  I must be three
months on and I Shall begin to show soon.  We" must act immediately.
Oh!  Lexie, could you tell James and persuade him to let us marry?  He
respects your judgment.  Please, Lexie!"

"Your condition explains your added pounds," "said Lexie wryly.  Ask
James?  How could she?  "Do your grandparents know?"  she asked, to
gain more time.

Fanny shook her head.  "I would rather they need not.  I have no wish
to hurt them.  But James is my guardian.  I must have his permission if
I am not to elope.  Do say you'll break the news to him, Lexie!"

"They can count, Fanny.  They will guess when your baby is born so very
early."

"Well, we shall go on a tour abroad.  We can, now Napoleon is defeated.
No one will know exactly when the infant is born."

"You would lie about his birthday?  Celebrate the wrong date?"

"What would it matter?"

"Not much, I suppose.  But Fanny, I have to tell you that Storm and I
are no longer so friendly as we were.  I have not seem him this age."

"Oh.."  Fanny's countenance fell "I did wonder, for he has stopped
circulating in Society while you have not.  But I am certain he still
holds you in high regard!  He always mentions you when he comes to
visit Grandfather."

Lexie sighed.  No doubt he was covering up his discomfiture over being
abandoned in Essex.  He would never admit to what he would see as her
rejection.  She could understand that.

She spoke of him to his grandmother, for the Duchess related all the
latest gossip."  Much good it did her to hear it, for he seemed to be
behaving with remarkable restraint despite his reported ill-temper, and
that made her love him all the more; but just to speak of him seemed
some kind of comfort, even though it caused immense agitation of the
spirit.  Dared she hope he felt the same?

No, that would be foolish.  He had never loved her, simply desired her.
Perhaps he wished to hear that she was in a fit of the dismals so that
he could know the satisfaction of thinking that it served her right. Or
to ascertain whether her unhappiness was liable to throw her back into
his arms.  Or whether desperation to wed would result in her accepting
some dullard like Cranley.  She hoped that, if she did, he would be a
little upset.

But Fanny was waiting eagerly for her response.  How could she refuse
to try to help?  She did not really know how Storm now felt about her.
Her intervention might set him further against the match rather than"
influence him towards it, but she felt compelled to try.  She had grown
fond of Fanny, she liked Felix enormously, she liked and respected the
Duke and Duchess and would save them from hurt if she could.

In the end she reached out and took one of Fanny's restless hands in
hers.  "I will speak to him, Fanny, but do not rely too heavily on my
proving successful."

Fanny departed full of profuse thanks.  Lexie resumed her seat at her
writing table and embarked upon the difficult task of sending Storm a
note asking him to call the following morning to discuss a delicate but
important matter.

When she was satisfied with the wording she sent a footman round to his
rooms to deliver the note.  Storm was out and so she had to wait in
some trepidation for either an answer or for his advent the next day.

She wished that the prospect of seeing him again did not cause her so
much agitation.  He might refuse to come.  In that case she would have
done her best, her conscience would be clear.

But her heart would feel heavier than ever.

CHAPTER TWELVE

LEXIS.  dressed with especial care the next morning.  A note had
arrived early to say that his lordship would call at eleven o'clock and
she did not want him to think her pining.

"There, my lady," said Chalker.  "You are looking splendid, this
morning.  It is a long time since his lordship called, is it not?  Will
he be your escort again next Season?"

Lexie suspected that Chalker had her own ideas as to what had happened
while she was on holiday.  But Lexie had not confided in either her or
Cato.  Better to keep her secret locked in her heart.

I do not expect so," she responded.  She smiled.  "Lord Cranley would
be certain to object."

Chalker looked disapproving.  "Oh, him."

"What is it, FlorenceP.  "Do you not like Lord Cranley?"

"He's not for you, my lady," burst out Chalker, then blushed a furious
red.  "Forgive me, my lady!  I should not have said that."

"No," agreed Lexie repressively, "you should not.  However, I incline
to agree with you."

"You do?  I'm that glad, your ladyship!  Couldn't bear the thought of
you marrying that dull stick of a gentleman!  You and Lord Stormaston
were meant for each other!"

"The Marquess does not think so," said Lexie drily.

2:

She did not reprove her maid further.  She had giw Chalker the opening
and, in truth, was glad to ha" her own opinion confirmed; She would
have to discourage the man or he would gain the wrong impression.
Unlike Storm he was serious in his intentions.  Perhaps if she did
something real outrageous... The hint of a smile played at the corners
of Lexie mouth.  Her green eyes sparkled back at her from the mirror.
Yes, she looked in fine fettle, thank goodnes If only she were not so
nervous! But the heat gene rat by her tension had put a healthyqooking
flush on h cheeks.  She hoped he would: be punctual.  He usual was.

Dymock announced his arrival as the clock on the mantelpiece in the
morning-room struck the ho Lexie remained seated as he made his bow.

Against all propriety, Caro was not present to act chaperbn and Ixie
gestured to Dymock to close the door of the morning-room behind him.

Storm did not take the proffered seat and had a far sneer on his face
as he spoke.

"If: you hope to compromise me by conducting the interview in
seclusion, ma'am, you will fail."

Lexie gasped and the faint colour in her cheeks.  He leaving her
looking pinched.  "You are unkind!  I h no such idea in mind, my lord!
I merely wished l privacy.  I would not like others to overhear c
conversation this morning."

"No?  I must admit you surprise me.  If you are to t me you are
pregnant despite all your care, an audi en would appear an
advantage."

He was, she sensed, in a towering temper, which was unleashing on her,
although his quite unwarranted scorn seemed to hold an element of hurt
in it, too.  But she had no time to search out the reason for this. She
composed herself to face his anger, his contempt, without quailing. For
Fanny's sake.

"I am not pregnant," she informed him steadily, her knuckles white on
the hands clasped in her lap.  "I would not have requested an interview
On my own behalf.  I wished to speak with you about your sister,

Lady Fanny."

"Fanny!"

The explosive exclamation illuminated Lexie's understanding.  He
already knew!  And thought she was about to attempt a similar for TM of
blackmail!  She heaved a sigh, partly of relief, partly to bolster her
courage.

"She came to see me yesterday in great distress.  She and Felix--'

Storm interrupted her with a smothered curse.  "Have behaved in the
most scandalous manner!"  he finished her sentence for her in his own
words.  "And Felix has the gall to tell me that he wishes to wed the
chit!  No doubt some would regard this as an honourable intention, but
I know better!  He seduced an innocent girl for his own ends.  I will
not have it.  I have called him out.  My seconds are meeting his
today."

"James!  You cannot mean it!  They are so in love!  Are you blind, that
you have not noticed how they adore each other?  But they knew you
would not approve the match and so Fanny begged--yes--" as Storm gave a
snort of disbelief "--Fanny begged Felix to lie with her!  I had it
from her own mouth!"

"Fanny would never--'

"Have you spoken to her, James?  Does her happiness mean nothing to
you?  Oh, I know Felix has a bad reputation with women, but any man can
change.  Fanny is convinced he is devoted to her.  And if you deny them
the chance to wed, what becomes of the child she is to bear?"

"It will be taken care of."

"Poor little soul!"  Then, "Did Felix speak to you?"  wondered Lexie
again.  "Fanny pleaded with me to intercede--'

"I cannot imagine what good she imagined you might achieve."

"She did not know of the extent of our estrangement.  I told her you
probably would not listen to me, but she still pleaded with me to
approach you.  Did Felix...?"  She left her repeated question
trailing.

"No, he did not have that much nerve!  I had to discover the truth from
Hugo."

"Hugo!  Is he in Town again?"  And up to his old tricks?  "How did he
find out?"

"Put two and two together and made four, I collect.  He is her brother,
they are more of an age and he knows her better than I do."  Storm
sounded resentful rather than regretful.  "His conclusions were
confirmed by a weeping Fanny and he took the greatest of pleasure in
informing me, coming straight round last evening to my rooms to suggest
that I was to blame for introducing her to my disreputable friends.  I
suppose I am, but I thought she had more sensei'

"Love," pronounced Lexie sadly, "takes no account of common sense.  So
you tackled Felix, who admitted the offence, and you called him out!"

"Exactly."

"And what good will that do, except to prove who is the better shot? Or
is it to be swords?  Really, Storm, I thought you had better
judgement!

They will make a well-matched pair--'

"Fanny is well dowered, Felix lacks funds.  So much for your so-called
love?

"I do not believe that to be his motive.  From what I have observed, he
is truly enamoured of your sister.  And why not?  She is a fine young
woman."

"Hugo told me you encouraged the match!"  Hurt and anger mingled in his
voice as he made the accusation.  "That was why you brought them
together at Merryfield, no doubt--to give them the chance to misbehave.
I saw Felix returning to his room one night and thought he had been
with the par lout maid!"

"You, my lord, sound like the pot calling the kettle black!  Where had
you been?"

"That was an entirely different matter!  You are a widow, not a green
girl scarcely out of the schoolroom?

"To you, perhaps it is.  Not to others, should they learn of it.  But
why don't ytu speak with Fanny?  Let her plead her cause?"

Storm threw back his head and regarded Lexie down his aristocratic
nose.  "The matter will be settled between Dexter and myself."

Lexie found it impossible to remain seated a moment longer.  She sprang
to her feet.

"Is Fanny to have no say in the matter?  Is her opinion to be treated
as of no account?  Really, Lord Stormaston, I thought you more
enlightened than to behave like a despot!"

"I will not argue with you, Lady Amber.  I will bid you good day."

He bowed and, without waiting for the butler to show him out, marched
from the house.  Lexie watched his retreating form, the stiff set of
his shoulders and wept for Fanny.  And for herself.

Where was the James Graham she had come to know over those wonderful
weeks by the sea?  If the Marquess did not watch his behaviour, he
would soon become as dry a stick as Lord Cranley.

Storm, striding back to his rooms, felt all the bitterness of defeat.

Unable to bear the thought of his life without her, he had been on the
point of abandoning his resolve, lowering his pride and declaring
himself to Lexie, asking her to marry him.  And then Hugo had come
along to trample on his hopes.

Fanny and Dexter had deceived him.  This alone he could have borne. But
for Lexie, his high-sPirited, green-eyed, golden nymph, to conspire in
their deceit, had hurt him more than he would care to acknowledge.

He had thought her eminently honest and open.  But all females were the
same.  Every one of them would betray a man at the drop of a hat. "Just
when he thought he had at last found a woman he could both love and
trust, the creature had to prove otherwise.

But it simply confirmed him in his earlier opinion.  He must make a
marriage of convenience to beget an heir, but not until he could no
longer put off the evil moment.  That was all he had left to hope for
in the way of domestic felicity.  The woman whose company he craved had
proved false.

Upon his return, Marlow greeted him dourly.

"Lord Hugo called to tell you that the duel is arranged for just after
dawn tomorrow.  That is, at six-thirty of the dock.  I have cleaned
your pistols."

"What is it, man?  You look as though you had just lost a fortune."

"Never having had one to lose, I wouldn't know what that was like,
begging your pardon, my lord.  But what I do know is that this affair
is foolish.  Lord Dexter is your friend.  He is a lively young man, but
there is no real vice in him.  If Lady Fanny--'

"Remember your place, Marlow!"  barked Storm, "Are you daring to
question my actions?"

"No, sir."  Marlow failed to look abashed.  "Only your sense.  You
cannot fight your best friend, sir!"

"You think not?  We shall see!"

Storm's displeasure with Fanny and Felix had cooled somewhat overnight.
He knew the temptation desire could put in a man's way, and in a
woman's, too, if they were only allowed to admit it.  But the pair
should have confided in him earlier.

Felix should have rquested his permission to address Fanny.  That he
would probably have refused did not signify.  He might, in the end,
have been persuaded, for Felix had been his companion in sin for many
years and he knew perfectly well that, like his own, Felix's behaviour
was not as disgraceful as many thought.

He himself had been contemplating marrying a modest young woman he had
seduced by a trick, against her will.  His" conscience smote him at the
thought, but he quickly pushed it aside, telling himself again that she
had, after all, agreed to the wager?  as he followed his line of
reasoning.  If he had considered himself a suitable husband for Lexie,
why should not Felix make Fanny a desirable spouse?

He had acted from outrage and pique, anger against the erring couple,
and disgust and disappointment over Lexie's betrayal, all fuelled by
her note, which he had immediately taken to be another attempt to
blackmail him into a course of action he would never choose.  Or
rather, that Lexie believed he would never choose.

But that had not been so.  He could not doubt the sincerity of her
denial.  At least he had that comfort.  If comfort it was.

But, death and hell, he had committed himself to a confounded duel and
could not back out now!  He had no desire to either kill or injure
Felix.  He was the better shot, but Felix was pretty accurate and could
not be relied upon' to miss.  It seemed likely that one or the other or
both would end up with a bullet in him.  He hoped Hugo had engaged a
competent surgeon.

Hugo was relishing this.  The army had made him somewhat bloodthirsty.
But on the whole his behaviour had been greatly improved by the
discipline, everyone had remarked upon it.  And most of the time he was
away, swept from under the feet of his family, unable to cause
embarrassment.  It was as well he had been home yesterday.  Otherwise
Lexie might have pulled the wool over his eyes, might have pleaded
Fanny's cause without his ever knowing the despicable part she had
played in the drama.

That, he considered, was quite the most hurtful aspect of the entire
affair.  Even a bullet in the shoulder would not occasion him so much
pain.

Fanny came tearing round to Bruton Street quite unable to restrain her
tears, even in public.

"Oh, Lexie!"  she cried.  "HUgo guessed!  He made me confess and went
straight round to inform James, and James went to see Felix and they
are to fight a duel!  Felix will be killed, I know it, for he is not as
accurate a shot as James, although he is better with a pistol than a
sword, which is why he chose it--'

"I know, my dear," said Lexie, the moment she could get a word in
edgeways.  "Lord Stormaston came round here in a towering rage.  He
accused me of conspiring with you to arrange a suitable venue for your
fornication?  she added grimly,

"Oh, how could he!  I must see him, but he is keeping out of the way,
he has not been to Grosvenor Square today.  Why will he not listen to
what I have to say?"

"Because he is arrogant and pig-headed.  But do not despair.  Felix may
fire a lucky shot.  James may be killed."

Her voice shook but Fanny, wrapped up in her own grief, did not
notice.

"Oh, do not say so!  I tzonld not bear that, either!  How could I marry
the man who had killed my brother?"

"An impasse, I agree," said Lexie drily.  How could she still wish to
wed a man who considered her a liar and a cheat?  "But I cannot
conceive of any way to stop this foolishness" We do not even know where
the duel is to be fought, or the time that has been fixed.  Although
Hugo probably knows.  Could you winkle the information from him?"

Fanny shook her head.  "I have not seen him since yesterday, either.
Now he is in the army he is staying at the Guards" Club with fellow
officers, as guest of a friend in the Foot Guards.  I cannot visit him
there."

"Neither can I. But you could send a note asking him to call."

"Which, knowing Hugo, he would ignore, guessing I would want to drag
the details of the meeting from him."

"So we must wait in ignorance, the lot of women down the ages, it seems
to me.  But you know, Fanny, I do not think either man will attempt to
kill his opponent.  They have been too close."

"I do pray you are right!  And there is another thing.  Grandmama is
beginning to suspect that there is something wrong.  I dread her
quizzing me when I return!"  :

"It would take a moron not to notice that something is upsetting you,
Fanny!  Of course your grandmother can see something is wrong!  I think
you should make a clean breast of the entire thing.  She may be able to
influence your brother where I cannot.  He does listen to hew

"Only when he wants to," said Fanny gloomily.  But her tears had dried
up.  "It would be a comfort to tell her everything.  But she will be so
upset!"

"Perhaps not as much as you might expect.  She is an unusual lady, my
dear Fanny.  And, you know, she favours Lord Dexter."

"You think she does?"  Fanny responded eagerly.

"I am certain she has a fondness for him.  Whether that extends to
approving a match between you I could not say.  But do not despair,
Fanny.  Things may not be as black as you believe them to be."

Lexie sent Fanny on her way in a more sanguine state of mind than when
she had arrived.  As for herself, she could only pray that neither
Storm nor Felix would wish to seriously harm the other.

But she could not sit about waiting for news to be brought to her!  Had
she been in Fanny's shoes she would have defied convention, scandalised
Society and charged round to the Guards" Club to demand to see Hugo.
However, the duel was not to be fought over her; she had no official
reason to be concerned in the affair.  So her involvement must be
discreet, secret.

Somehow, she must contrive to be present.  She would not be able to
prevent the exchange of fire, but she had to know the worst the instant
it happened.  For if Storm were badly injured she would indeed defy
convention once more and rush to his side.  That should prove
outrageous enough to deter Cranley, she thought, enjoying a momentary
gleam of humour.  And should Felix be the victim she would like to be
in a position to carry the news to Fanny.

Her thoughts were much occupied for the remainder of the day.  By
evening she had formed a plan.

Chalker was used to hjr irregular ways and evinced little surprise at
being asked to call her mistress at five and dress her for riding.  The
yawning stable boy saddled Danny without demur.  And Lexie set off
alone just before dawn broke to loiter in the shadows at the end of St.
ames's Street, hoping that Storm and his seconds had not already left
for the rendezvous.

She saw Hugo and another.  man arrive and relaxed.  She watched them
leave shortly afterwards with Storm, followed by Marlow carrying his
mastefts gun case.  All four travelled inside the unidentifiable coach
Storm had used to abduct her.

It was easy enough to follow them to Hampstead Heath.  Felix and his
party arrived almost simultaneously and another carriage drove up
shortly afterwards, apparently carrying the surgeon and umpire.

Lexie, dismounted, holding Danny's headstall, and watched from the
shelter of nearby bushes.  If only she could do something to stop the
madness!  But the men would never allow a woman to intervene, to
prevent them carrying out an idiotic ritual which a misguided sense of
honour demanded they enact.  They would simply set her to one side and
carry on.

So she waited, silent, tense, her mind offering up unformed prayers for
some intervention from the Almighty, while the seconds went through the
motions of arranging the details of the duel to everyone's
satisfaction.

Storm'stood ready, remembering that first duel he had fought with
rapiers, his sense of utter disillusion when he had discovered his
defence of the lady's honour to have been ill-advised.  He had vowed
never to love another woman, false creatures that they were, and had
treated Lexie badly because of his bitterness but, despite his vow, had
allowed himself to be drawn into its meshes again.  He had, against all
his principles and wishes, fallen in love with Lexie.  And she,.  too,
had proved false.

And now he was about to fight his best friend for deflowering his
sister.  He did not want to believe that Fanny had been the instigator
of the affair.  She was no wanton, while Felix was a proven rake.  He
must be the guilty party.  But women were unreliable creatures.  He
should have tackled Fanny.  But it was a delicate matter and he had not
managed to steel himself for the task.

Honour demanded he seek satisfaction from Felix, who had wronged his
sister, his ward.  But his heart was not in it.  Storm stood back to
back with his friend, who looked haggard and anxious--as well he might,
since he was by far the worse shot, proved time after time in Manton's
shooting gallery.

The umpire began to count.  His mind clear as crystal, his hand
perfectly steady, Storm strode forward the fifteen paces demanded,
turned and fired.  He heard Felix's almost simultaneous shot and waited
for the jolt and the pain as the round tore into his flesh.  Or for
oblivion.

Lexie watched, holding her breath, as they strode apart, turned and
fired.  Incredulous, she saw puffs of dust rise a yard or so in front
of Storm and a yard to one side of Felix.  Choked by overwhelming
relief, she saw them come together and shake hands.  Then she was on
Danny's back, riding like fury to Grosvenor Square in order to give
FannY the news of both men's safety.

When she arrived at Downshire House and asked to see Lady Fanny, she
was shown into the Duchess's bedchamber.  The elderly lady was still in
bed, propped up against a mound of pillows, with Fanny sitting beside
her.  Her Grace sat very still.  The old eyes, slightly watery, fixed
themselves on Lexie's face.

Lexie made a quick curtsy and while she did so, without preamble, she
announced, "They are both unharmed."

She saw the stiffly held shoulders of the Duchess relax.  Fanny gave a
gasp of surprise and pleasure and threw herself at Lexie, clasping her
so tightly in her exuberant relief that Lexie, laughing, protested.

"I pray you will not strangle me, FannyV

"But how did you find out?"  demanded the cause of all the trouble
breathlessly.

"I followed the Marquess to the meeting place and watched.  Both
gentlemen aimed their shots at the ground."

A snort from the bed brought Lexie's attention back to the Duchess. Her
lace-covered head had subsided against the pillows but her eyes held a
new alertness.  "

"What a sad roil you made of this, Fanny!  Why could you not have
spoken to me earlier?  I would have made James see sense.  All these
dramatics were quite unnecessary!"

Fanny, abashed, hung her head.  "I told you, Grandmama, at first I
believed that you would side with James.  You did wish me to wed Oswald
Cresswell, did you not?"  The question was rhetorical and, ignoring the
Duchess's impatient grunt, Fanny rushed on.

"Then, later, when I discovered my condition, I did not wish to upset
you or Grandpapa.  Lexie said you liked Felix and had influence with
James, but I was afraid to test the truth of it in case I caused a
quarrel between you.  Even now,."  she added gloomily, "I suppose James
will oppose the match."

"Probably," agreed her grandparent.  "But he will allow it.  And as for
you, young woman," turning to Lexie, "we owe you a debt of gratitude.
You have saved us from hours of lowerin" suspense, for I doubt if
either participant will make haste to present himself here."

"I could not bear to wait idly for news and knew you would be equally
anxious."

"And so, being the enterprisin" creature you are, you took matters into
your own hands!  Did it by yourself, no doubt, eh?  Didn't take a groom
with you, I'll wager!"

Lexie made a regretful face.  "No, ma'am."

"You must take breakfast with Us.  They are sendin" up trays.  Then
I'll instruct one of my grooms to ride back with you, after you've paid
your respects to Downshire.  Might as well make some show of behavin"
with proper decorum."

"Yes, ma'am," said Lexie meekly, her eyes dancing as they met those of
the Duchess.

"Did James know you were present?"  demanded that lady.

Lexie shook her head.  "I took care not to be seen.  Since they were
engaged in an affair of honour, I did not wish.  either gentleman to
think me an interfering female."

"Hmm.  So he will not realise that we know what transpired.  Excellent.
Fanny, you will not admit to knowing the result of this {atce, d'you
hear me?"  "Very well, Grandmama."

The Duchess greeted the appearance of the breakfast trays with a smug
expression on her lined face.  All three set about demolishing their
contents with good appetite.  An hour ago Lexie would not have thought
herself capable of eating a bite.  As for Fanny.  "I'm eating for two,"
she giggied.

That giggle was a sign of her relief.  Lexie felt like joining her in
senseless merriment.  James was safe.  But she wondered what kind of
reception he could expect when he presented himself later, as he must,
to tackle the problem of Fanny's future.

Storm had not yet given Felix permission to marry his ward.  He had not
killed him or even maimed him for daring to aspire to winning Fanny's
hand, or for robbing her of her virginity, Yet Felix had felt equally
unable to try to further his cause by killing or maiming the man who
stood in the way of his ambition.

"I will think about it," was all Storm would promise as they parted
after shaking hands.  "And you will not communicate with my sister
until after I have seen her and you have my permission.  Is that
understood?

Felix had looked about to argue, but seeing the steely glint in his
friend's eyes, had compressed his lips and desisted.  "She will wish to
hear from me," was all he had said.

Storm had heard the sound of hoofbeats retreating at a gallop and
looked up to glimpse a shadowy figure on a chestnut horse, its coat
shining copper in the first of the sun's rays, and his heart had
lurched..

It could not have been Lexie.  She could not have known where the
meeting was to be held.  And even she would surely not venture out
alone to attend a duel.  Yet the impression persisted as he made his
way back to St.  James's.  Had she, somehow, discovered the venue and
come to watch?

Was her conscience troubling her, that tender conscience which had
caused him such frustration over the last months?  Despite her denials,
she must have encouraged the pair, have contributed to the situation
which had led to the meeting.  No doubt she wanted to witness the
result of her intrigues.  Would she have been troubled had it resulted
in death or injury?  To either man?

His uneasy ruminations did not prevent his eating a hearty breakfast
and, thereafter, he took over an hour to dress in full fig in
preparation for an interview with Fanny and the Duchess.  He had no
doubt at all that his grandmother was by now privy to all that had
transpired and Of his challenge to Felix.  And if that had been Lexie"
galloping off, then she probably already knew he was safe and sound,
too.

So let her wait while he donned the togs of the consummate man about
Town.  Weston's tailoring was superb, he admitted, inspecting the fit
of his black superfine.  coat with satisfaction, the hang of his
fashionable trousers With approval.  Pantaloons were going out and he
did not regret the change..  He knew he looked the epitome of
restrained elegance as he later made his way, at a leisurely stroll, to
Grosvenor Square.

He needed no announcement in what would one day be his own domain.  He
deposited his hat and stick, nodded dismissively to the butler, who had
informed him that Her Grace an3d Lady Fanny were in the morning-room
While His Grice was resting in bed, and made his way upstairs.

At sight of him Fanny jumped to her feet and flew across the room.

"James!"  she cried, flinging herself into his arms.  "You are safe!
Oh, I am so glad!"

Fanny was not a good actress.  Her surprise and pleasure at seeing him
safe were obviously feigned.  She had not asked about Felix's fate,
Storm grinned with false amiability.

"I collect that Lady Amber has already conveyed the news of Lord
Dexter's survival," he remarked drily, and noted the look of frustrated
annoyance which crossed his grandparent's face.

His mood lightened.  The Duchess had been about to pretend she knew
nothing of the outcome of the affair.  No doubt she would have made
dragging the details from him an embarrassing business.  He was almost
grateful to Lexie for forestalling him.

"And now, if you please, I would wish to speak with my ward in private.
Come, Fanny.  Let us retire to the library."

The Duchess tapped her stick on the floor, a single, loud,
authoritative thump.  "You will conduct the interview here, James.  I
will not have Fanny intimidated or upset by your prejudices?

"You agree to the match, I collect, ma'am.  I have to inform you that,
although I have no dislike for Lord Dexter and find him an agreeable
companion, I do not consider him a suitable husband for my sister.  He
is, to put it bluntly, a confirmed womaniser and reckless gambler.
Fanny would soon discover her mistake when she had to suffer the
humiliation of countless infidelities and discovered that all her dower
had been frittered away."

"He would not--" began Fanny, only to be interrupted by the Duchess.

"Fustian, James!  I am surprised at you!  Ain't you noticed a change in
Dexter's behaviour this Season?  Even my old eyes could see how
attached he and Fanny have become!"

"Your eyes are sharp enough when you wish, Grandmama."

"And they ain't quite so concentrated on my own affairs and misdeeds as
yours, my boy!"

"So," said Storm, dropping languidly into a chair, since it seemed he
must conduct his interview with Fanny in the presence of his
grandparent, "do I collect that you approve of Fanny's misconduct?"

The Duchess snorted.  "Foolish child!  Of course I do not!  But it was
your attitude which drove her to it, James.  Told her, should have
asked me.  But there you are, young people these days will go their own
way.  You can't fight this, James.  There's the baby to consider.  This
great-grandchild--" she shot a withering glance at her grandson
"--won't have it born a bastard.  So get Dexter along here immediately.
Settle the matter.  Make the child happy."

"I want nothing more than Fanny's happiness, believe me.  I just cannot
conceive that marriage to Dexter will bring it."

"Just as no mama can imagine their daughter finding happiness with you.
Yet you have it in you to make an excellent husband.  If you wed the
right woman."

Storm made an impatient gesture.  "Leave me out of this!  It is Fanny's
future happiness we are discussing!  As her guardian, I cannot approve
the match."

"Oh, James!"  wailed Fanny.  "Must you be so difficult?  Felix and I
love each other!  We must marry!"

"You have made it imperative and left me small room for manoeuvre, that
I concede.  I cannot give the match my absolute blessing: however,
neither can I prevent it."

"Oh, I knew you could not be so hard-hearted!  Thank you, oh!  thank
you, James!"

"Had you chosen to marry Mr.  Cresswell--'

"But we neither of us wanted the match!  Why, he helped Felix and me!
We would all go off together and he would leave us alone somewhere and
then escort us back again!"

"Oswald Cresswell did that?

The incredulous note in Storm's voice made Fanny giggle.  "Oswald is so
sweet!  And not nearly as much under his mama's thumb as you might
imagine!"

"But it was Lady Amber who encouraged you to lie together to enable you
to blackmail me!"

"No, she didn't know a thing about that.  Lexie is far too scrupulous
to do anything to encourage impropriety!"  The blank stare Storm gave
her could not stop Fanny now she had begun her confession.  "It was
entirely my idea, James, and I had to threaten Felix that I would abide
by your wishes and wed Oswald if he wouldn't compromise me!"

Storm's eyes sharpened.  "You gave me to understand Cresswell had no
wish to marry you!"

"Neither had he!  Felix didn't really believe I was serious, but it
made him realise how determined I was.  Oswald cherishes a tend're for
Lexie, you know, although he knows it is hopeless.  But I believe he is
growing fond of Miss Daventry.  Once Lexie is wed--'

Storm crossed his long legs and fiddled with the set of his trousers.
"Lady Amber is considerin" marryin" again, is she?"

"Lord Cranley, if she has any sense," interrupted the Duchess.  "I am
confident he is on the point of offerin" for her."  Ignoring Storm's
sudden frown, quite at odds with the studied nonchalance of his manner,
she waved an imperious hand.  "There is a pen and paper on the table.
Send a note to Lord Dexter this moment!  Put the poor creature out of
his misery.  Had I been he, I'd have winged you, James, for being" such
a numbskull."

Storm was left wondering in which direction the Duchess thought he had
been foolish.  Or whether she considered his every action had been that
of a dolt.  He was beginning to doubt his acumen himself.

"Fanny," said the Duchess when the note had been dispatched, "go and
make yourself tidy for when Felix arrives.  You will not wish to greet
your betrothed looking all of a scramble.  And I wish to exchange a few
private words with your brother."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

STORM'S, heart sank at his grandmother's words.  He could guess what
was coming and had no wish to discuss his own affairs until he had
sorted out his feelings.

Lexie had not been culpable.  He had accused her wrongly.  She might
refuse to forgive him, and he could not blame her if she did,

But more to the point, he had a large bone to pick with his dearly
beloved brother.  Without doubt, Hugo had been up to his tricks again,
sowing distrust and discord in his elder brother's path.  Would the
fool never learn that jealousy such as his could sour his entire life?
He had been given the chance to make something of himself and on the
surface had profited from the experience.

But the heart beneath that red jacket with the blue facings and gold
lace had not changed.  Hugo's resentment at being born the younger son
still lived and he would seek to damage his brother in any way he
could.

A lesson Storm would not soon forget.  He should have realised that
Hugo was not to be trusted.  Hugo had sold him a pack of lies about
Lexie.

"Forgive me, Grandmama, but I really must leave," he said, rising as
Fanny left the room.  "I have to see Hugo.  Make sure everythin" is
settled, no loose ends left after the affair this mornin'."

"Of course everything is settled, James!  You shook

t been paid he will send in his account!  Oblige me by sittin"
down."

With a resigned shrug, Storm did as bidden.  When his grandparent was
in this mood, there could be no gainsaying her without being
discourteous.

"Hugo," pronounced his discerning relative, "doubtless engineered the
duel.  Thought the boy was getting" over his resentment and envy of
you, but it seems he still bears a grudge.  Told you about Fanny and
Dexter in such a way as to put you out of temper, I'd wager."  Storm
had to admit that the Duchess was right.

"I believe he told you lies about Lady Alexia, as well.  Poor child,
your lack of trust upset her dreadfully."

Storm was not going to admit, even to the old lady giving him a
well-deserved set-down, that he had also accused Lexie of an intention
to use a similar excuse to blackmail him into marriage.  He remained
silent.

"How could you believe Hugo's version without question?"  went on his
inexorable critic.  "You've known the boy as long as the rest of us!
Fond as I am of him--for he is, after' all my grandson--I have never
blinded myself to his faults.  If he can hurt you, James, he will.
Never forget it."

"I have excellent reason to remember, ma'am."

"You have behaved like a pot-head, James.  There was no need for all
this pother, let alone the farce this mornin'."  She glared at him,
pointing at his cheek.  "I thought you'd had enough of duels to last
you a lifetime!"

Storm lifted his brows and gave a slight, deprecating smile, "I have
fought others.  Surely you knew?"

The Duchess glared down her nose and sniffed.  "I heard.  You were not
hurt.  Gentlemen indulgin" in sword fights or shootin" each other's
heads off over a stupid point of honour don't concern me."

Storm's brows quirked and his eyes laughed in wicked contradiction.

"Even when you are involved," continued the Duchess repressively, "know
you can take care of yourself and it's usually all over by the time I
hear.  Besides, you're not likely to kill or be killed, the.  penalty
is too harsh.  Even if you escaped with your life you'd be condemned to
live abroad, have to forfeit your estates and inheritance.  Too much
sense for that, thank God.  And so have your likely opponents.  But
when Fanny is involved, then I do consider it my business.  Hurt Dexter
and she'd be devastated.  And Society would be flooded with gossip and
innuendo.  She would have been ruined.  She may well be now, if the
affair becomes broadcast."

Slowly, Storm sat up straight, He looked his grandmother in the eye,
his expression horrified.  "Can you believe, Grandmama, that that
consequence never entered my head?"

"Easily!  Nothin" sensible has entered your head for months?  declared
the Duchess.  She shook her head in disgust, setting the ribbons and.
lace of her cap fluttering.

"Would never have believed a son of mine could have reared such a
witless brood.  Hugo doin" his best to ruin himself and take you with
him,.  Fanny goin" off at half cock because she thinks she won't get
her own way, and you, my boy, have offered over the past months as
prime an example of dimwitted behaviour as I ever hope to witness!"

Storm lifted his eye-glass and eyed his grandparent through it in his
most arrogant manner.  "In what way exactly, may I ask?"

"No need to glare at me through that thing!  Don't signify with me! Why
haven't you offered for Alexia Hamilton?"

Storm's fingers tightened about the slender handle of the glass.  His
grandmother heard the snap of the delicate silver stem.  She gave a
wolfish grin.

"That came near the bone, eh?  There's been some-thin" goin" on between
you for months.  She refused to warm your bed for you, and so she
should, a respectable widow like the Countess of Amber.  So what did
you do?  Give up?  Or continue to pester her?  And what was that
curricle race at Merryfield really about?  Who suggested it?"

"Lady Amber herself."  Storm had recovered himself.  He spoke with a
careless shrug of his impeccably tailored shoulders.  "She wished to
prove her skill at drivin" to be superior to" mine.  Unfortunately, she
couldn't and lost the wager."

"And looked uncommonly disconcerted at doin" so.  Until the followin"
day.  I'd swear she'd lost a lot of sleep during the night, but to me
she looked like a woman who had been comprehensively ravished."

"She did?"  murmured Storm lazily, still attempting to avoid admitting
the true terms of the bet, but immodestly conceding the truth of the
Duchess's words.  They had, however, brought back to vivid memory the
satisfaction, the delight of shared passion during those hours spent in
Lexie's bed.  He crossed his legs.  The old lady's eyes were still
sharp.

"I gather," said that lady with another wolfish grin, 'that you took
your reward in her bed.  No one else is likely to have been
responsible.  So you won all round, did you not?"

"I do not usually lose, Grandmama."

"Ha!  So you admit it!  I knew as much.  And when my agent could not
reach you at Stormaston and Chalker told my girl that her mistress had
given her a couple of weeks off because she wouldn't be needin" her
services, I concluded you'd gone off somewhere together.  I trust you
had an agreeable time."  "Capital, I thank you."  "Where'd you go?"

The disclosure was inevitable.  Storm grinned, daring his grandmother
to disapprove.  "To stay with Nanny Dean in Frinton."

"Of course.  She always indulged you dreadfully, James.  So why are the
two of you at odds now?"  Reluctantly, Storm admitted, "Because Lexie
would not continue our al faire once we returned."  Uncon-scion sly his
voice took on a bitter tone.  "She had paid her debt and, for her, that
was the end of it."

"She wasn't happy indulgin" in love outside marriage, I collect.  You
should have wed her, James."

"You have informed me of your opinion before, ma'am.  But I have no
wish to wed."

Which was still essentially true.  He did not relish the idea of
surrendering his freedom; yet, living with Lexie, even for so short a
time, had made his present existence seem peculiarly unsatisfactory.
Even Stormaston and his laboratory had not been able to lift him from
the dark mood her rejection had plunged him into.

"So you have been goin" around like a bear with a sore head because she
has withdrawn her favours, and she's been pinin" because she can't
square her conscience.  And you refuse to wed her."

"She did not look as though she was pining to me."  Still bitter.

The Duchess's snort could have been heard outside the door.  And at
that moment a footman entered to announce that Lord Dexter had called
and to ask whether Her Grace would receive him.

In fact, since he had been summoned, Felix had followed hard on the
pounds now's heels.  The Duchess saw him hovering beyond the door and
called out to him to come in.

Felix did so and then, seeing Storm, who had risen to his feet, halted
just inside the room.  The men eyed one another, still not back on the
old, easy terms.

"Come in, come here, Dexter!  James has something" to say to you."

The imperious tones of ]he Duchess cut through the uneasy atmosphere.
Storm gave a slight shrug and made his bow.  Felix made his devoirs to
them both and looked questioningly at Storm.

Storm eyed his friend of so many years and saw what Fanny and the
Duchess had seen, a personable young man with an engaging manner, upon
whose handsome features his so-called vices had left no mark.  They'd
both rattled about Town, raised hell on occasion, drunk too much,
gambled too deeply, known too many women.  But Felix was an honourable
man, wellqiked, without a vicious bone in his body.  And one day would
inherit an earldom.  If Fanny loved him, well, Storm supposed that
could be the making of him.

"Have you mentioned your aspiration to my sister's hand to St.  Clare?"
Storm demanded.

Felix looked surprised at the question.  "Of course."  "Then why in
damnation--" he cut off, bowed to his grandmother "--my apologies!  Why
did not one of you approach me?  Am I so d-so unapproachable as you
make me appear7'

Felix faced up to him with a wry smile.  "On some matters, yes.  You
made my un acceptability as a suitor for Fanny's hand abundantly clear
on several occasions."

"I am still not entirely happy with the match.  However, since Fanny's
happiness apparently depends upon it and the Duchess approves, I must
allow it.".

Felix bowed gravely.  "I can assure you of my most earnest intention to
make her happy."

Suddenly, Storm relaxed, and laughed, if a, trifle ruefully.  "My
friend, the trouble is I know you tpo well.  We have caroused together
too often for me to feel entirely convinced of your ability to do so
for long.  Yet if you can reform, then I must believe that there is
hope for me yet!  Go along to the library.  Fanny will join you there.
My solicitors will meet with yours as soon as can be arranged."

Felix laughed, too, and once more held out his hand "I thank you from
the bottom of my heart, brother!  The wedding must be soon, as you will
appreciate."

"But don't arrange some hole-and-corner affair."  The Duchess spoke up
again, holding out her hand for Felix to take.  "Welcome to the family,
Felix," she murmured as he kissed it, then went on.  "That would

not be sensible.  Fanny's reputation must be guarded at all costs.  If
you go abroad immediately afterwards, the ceremony may be delayed for
as much as a month, I think.  That will give us and the lawyers time to
make all the necessary arrangements."

"We do not wish for a grand affair, Your Grace," said Felix.  "A simple
ceremony with close family and friends present would suit us both
excellently."

"You've discussed the matter and have it all arranged, I collect,"
interjected Storm.  He sighed.  "I really was fighting a losing battle,
was I not?"  he remarked in a histrionically resigned voice.

"I fear we were ready to elope had you not come round," Felix told him
with an apologetic smile.  "But for everyone's sake, and especially
Fanny's, I was reluctant.  I had no wish to begin our life together
with such a cloud hanging over us."

"Very sensible of you, my boy," said the Duchess.  "And now, run along.
I have not finished what I have to say to my grandson."

As he passed, Felix clapped Storm on the back.  "No hard feelings, I
trust?"  he asked.

"None, brother," responded Storm, and meant it.

"And now," said the Duchess when once again they were alone together,
"what of Alexia?  You love the child, do you not?"

Storm, who had been about to sink down into his chair, straightened up
again.

"I have no wish to discuss Lady Amber."

"But I have.  It is time you wed, I've told you so before."

"Many times," interjected Storm in a bored tone.

The Duchess ignored him.  "You'll never find a more fittin" bride.  You
suit each other admirably.  I cannot conceive what is stoppin" you from
asking" her."

"A COnstitutional objection to the state of matrimony, Grandmama."

"Then you are more idiotish than I thought you, James.  Look about you,
boy!  Do you see every marriage in terms of those famous examples of
failure to which the Regent subscribes?  What of my marriage?  What of
your parents'?  Reasonably felicitous marriages outnumber bad ones,
even amongst those that are arranged.  And you need an heir."

"As you have informed me ad nauseum.  But either I shall marry where
mutual love exists, or I shall make a marriage of convenience when it
is no longer avoidable."

"Then what in Hades are you waiting" for, boy?  You love her and she
loves you.  Get on with it!"

"Really, Grandmama, your language sometimes requires moderating?
"Fiddlesticks!  You are prevaricatin'.  Go and beg the girl to marry
you and thank Providence for sendin" her your way!"

Slowly, Storm sat down, elegant as ever, but with an" abstracted air.
"Lexie does not love me."

"Nonsense!  Of course she does!  Anyone but a fool could see she's head
over heels in love with you by the way she looks at you.  It is just as
obvious that she is in love with you as it is that you are besotted
with her, Why else has she been in the dismals ever since she returned
to Town?"

Storm glared at his relative.  He did not like being told he was
besotted.  He was not.  "Simply because she

failed to manoeuvre me into Parson's mousetrap?"  he enquired
cynically.

"Not Lady Alexia."  The Duchess defended her protegee firmly.  "She
would put you behind her and concentrate on findin" someone else to
marry."

"Which she appears to have done," pointed out Storm dryly.  "Lord
Cranley, I understand, is on the point of offerin" for her."

"But, mark my words, she'll never accept him.  Might think she could,
but when it comes to the point she'll not bring herself to do it."

"Our desire may be mutual--you see, I am being honest--but I doubt she
loves me.  She wishes to wed me for more worldly reasons.  Cranley is
heir to a marques sate and is very rich.  He will do her very well."
"Ask her," suggested his grandmother.

Storm'left Downshire House with his emotions in turmoil.  Could he
believe his grandparent's word?  Did Lexie love him?  She had behaved
as though she did, but then, so had plenty of other women.  Before all
this furore he had intended to seek her hand.  But... )

Lexie had, only half an hour earlier, proved the Duchess right.  Lord
CYanley had presented himself requesting a private interview with Lady
Amber.  Although feeling far from ready to cope with what she guessed
he had come to say, Lexie could not refuse to see him.  She had left it
too late to remedy the false impression she must have given.

He had, he said, having greeted her with elaborate courtesy, naturally
heard that the.  Countess had appeared attached to Another during the
summer, but since she had not recently been seen in His Lordship's
company and had accepted his own attentions, Lord Cranley ventured to
hope that she might welcome his suit.  He had come to request her
agreement to his approaching her father, the Earl of Webley, to seek
permission to address her with a view to uniting their lives to their
mutual advantage.

Lexie, her feelings of guilt almost overcome by the inclination to fall
into a strong fit of hysterics at the form of his declaration, had
managed to command herself sufficiently to send the slightly-corpulent
gentleman away with his pride and temper intact.  She had apologised
profusely for any wrong impression she had given but, highly as she
regarded him, she did not love him, and therefore could not marry
him.

More protestations had followed but Lexie had, in the end, managed to
extricate herself from a difficult situation and, on his departure,
breathed a sigh of relief.  At least that problem was now Solved.

She hoped Fanny's dilemma had been resolved to mutual satisfaction all
round: that Storm had given in graciously and was no longer at odds
with Fanny and Felix.  She longed for news, but knew she would have to
wait until she saw Fanny again to learn the outcome.

She did not have long to fret.  A radiant Fanny, escorted by an equally
happy Felix, called the following morning.

"And we are to be wed on the first day of December," Fanny told her.
"You will come, will you not, Lexie?  Be my Matron of Honour?"

This compliment Lexie graciously declined.  Storm, she gathered, was to
support Felix--when he gave in, he did so handsomely, as the Duchess
had said--and she could not bear the thought of being so intimately
involved with him at the wedding.  It was to be a modest, quiet affair,
and this she made her excuse.

Fanny was disappointed, but not downcast.  Melissa Daventry would
almost certainly agree to support her.  And in the excitement of
discussing the forthcoming wedding, no mention was made of Lord
Cranley's proposal and Lexie's refusal of his suit.

Over the next few days Lexie tried to behave as normally as possible.
She could not hide herself away from the criticism she knew would greet
the news that she had refused Cranley.  She had behaved badly, she
could not deny it.  But it seemed a small offence to live down compared
to some of the others she had committed.

News of the engagement spread and Fanny and Felix received so many
invitations they could not possibly accept even half of them.  However,
they did appear together at a musical soiree with Lexie, improbably,
acting as Fanny's chaperon.  The Duchess did not wish to leave her
husband's side, for although his condition had improved she was still
concerned for his health.

"Angina don't often gill accordin" to the doctor," she had said, "but
it is a distressin" complaint.  If Downshire is goin" to have an
attack, I want to be there."

It was at this social occasion that Fanny and Felix heard of Lexie's
shocking treatment of poor Lord Cranley, who had gone off to his
estates to digest his disappointment.  And when Felix saw Storm a
couple of days after that, Storm, Who had not even visited his club in
the meanwhile--he had been paying a flying visit to Wiltshire, certain
business matters at

Stormaston having demanded his immediate attention-was also made aware
of the facts.

The information crystallised in his mind the decision he had already
subconsciously taken.

"You're all goin" to the ball tomorrow evenin', you say?  I received my
invitation and declined to attend, but I'm certain Lady Castlereagh
will not object if I change my mind.  I shall look to see you there."

Lexie did not know of Storm's intention to attend the ball, one of the
few to be held in the last month before people returned to their
estates and Christmas house parties.  She had been invited to spend the
festive season with the Duke and Duchess of Downshire but had so far
avoided giving a definite answer.

Fanny would not be there but Storm and Hugo probably would.  If she
heard that Storm intended spending Christmas elsewhere, then she might
consider travelling to Kent with them.  Provided the Duke was fit
enough to travel.  Otherwise the Duchess planned to remain in London.

Lexie had already danced several times when a stir at the door made her
glance across.  Storm's dark head shone in the light thrown by
thousands of candles in chandelier and sconce.  His unexpected arrival
had created an excitement akin to that normally occasioned by the
presence of the Regent.  Lexie's heart thumped its way to her throat.
She had not expected to see him and the shock made her stumble,

"Ouch!"  exclaimed Oswald in an ungentlemanly manner.  "That was my
toe, Lady Alexia?

No poetic superlatives from the young man tonight, Lexie noted, amused
despite her distraction.  He had matured beyond measure since his visit
to Merryfield and his calf-love was fast turning into genuine, friendly
affection.  Miss Daventry appeared to be waging a successful campaign
to win his heart, which pleased Lexie.  They made a suitable pair.

"Oh," said Oswald when next they came together, oblivious of the cause
of Lexie's earlier clumsiness.  "There's Stormaston!  Ain't seen him in
weeks!  Alone, too.  Ain't gone back to his crowd of cronies now he
ain't escortin" you."

"Felix St.  Clare is here," Lexie observed.

"But he don't mix with "era any more either, since he fell in love with
Lady Fanny."

The set ended and Oswald escorted Lexie back to join Fanny and Felix.
Storm had already sought out his sister.

"Grandmama has remained at home with Grandpapa," Fanny was explaining
as Lexie came up.  "Lexie!  See who is here!"

"Greetings, Storm," said Lexie evenly, as she curtsied in response to
his bow.  "We had become resigned to your continued absence from
Society.  To what do we owe the honour of your.ompany this evening?"

"Why, Lady Alexia, what else but the pleasure of dancing with you
again?"

Lexie's gay laugh held only the faintest of false rings.  "La, sir!
What flattery!  Was it not that you had become bored with your retired
life?"

Storm ignored this.  "They are striking up for a waltz.  Shall we take
to the floor?"

He crooked his arm and offered it.  Lexie, more flustered than she
would have liked to admit, glanced down at her card.  "But this dance
is taken--'

"I will deal with the disappointed gentleman.  Who is it?"

"The Duke of Clarence."

"Ah!"

He turned as the Sailor Duke barged his way towards Lexie, and made him
an elegant, deferential leg.  "Your Grace, I am convinced you will not
object to my claimin" the Countess for this dance.  It has been so long
since we have had occasion to waltz together."

The Duke, good-humoured as ever, gave a guffaw of laughter.

"Back in circulation again, eh, Stormaston?  How's the Duke?"

"I am happy to report that my "grandfather's condition is greatly
improved.  We anticipate his being able to return to Kent for
Christmas."

"Be able to attend little Fanny's wedding, eh?  Sly dog, Dexter!
Congratulations.  Heard you'd become engaged."

"Thank you, Your Grace."  Felix and Fanny made their devoirs and Storm
took the opportunity to steer Lexie out onto the floor, where the waltz
had just begun.

"Such impudence!  How can you treat the Duke so disrespectfully!"

His arm came about her waist.  "My dear Lexie, I would brave worse
fates than the displeasure of a Royal Duke in order to dance again with
you."

Lexie moved into his arms like one in a dream.  A dream come true.  But
before she could believe that she must discover exactly what were his
lordship's intentions toward her.

But dancing a waltz with him was not the best moment to inquire.  Her
mind was spinning in time with her feet.  She danced in blissful, if
dubious, silence.

At the end, Storm escorted her back to her friends.  He had not spoken,
either.  He bowed.

"I shall give myself the pleasure of calling upon you tomorrow morning,
Lexie.  I trust you will be able to receive me?"

Lexie had intended to go calling herself.  But she nodded.

"I shall be at home all the morning," she told him.  "Then you may
expect me at midday."

He left her then.  And shortly afterwards he departed the ball.  It was
evident that he had come only to speak with her.  Lexie, her heart
aflutter, slept very little that night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LEXIE could stomach no breakfast next day, but drank several cups of
chocolate.  Waiting alone in the morning-room in a demure but becoming
gown of damask rose and with Cato banished to the small parlour, her
eyes kept straying to the clock on the mantel.  Its ornate hands seemed
to move at a snail's pace, the pendulum's tick-tock to become slower
and slower.  However, the quarters did chime, the hours struck and
eventually the hands met in upright triumph over the twelve.

And Dymock himself announced the Marquess of Stormaston as the last
stroke faded into the silence.

Lexie did not rise--her legs did not feel strong enough--or speak.  She
waited until" Storm stood in front of her and then offered her hand

He bowed over it before, gently, kissing the knuckles.  Instead of
releasing her he turned the hand palm upward and touched it again with
his lips.

Lexie's breathing quickened in time with her pulse.  He was playing the
suitor.  But what was the nature of his suit?

"Do sit down," she managed to say, remembering her duties as a hostess.
"May I offer you a drink?"

Storm, equally tense, but determined not to show it, sank lazily into
the indicated chair and said, "A glass of Madeira would not be
unwelcome."

"Dymock?"  The butler had not yet left the room.  "A decanter and two
glasses, if you please."

He brought the tray holding the requisite items from a cupboard and
placed it on the table near Storm before pouring the wine and handing
each a glass.

"Thank you."  Lexie accepted hers.  "Shut the door as you leave."

Dymock bowed.  "Yes, my lady."

They drank in silence.  Storm's glass was soon empty.  "Excellent
vintage," he remarked.

"Help yourself to another," invited Lexie.

"And you?"

"I have enough, I thank you.

She needed to have her morale boosted, but not to have her mind
fuddled.  It was quite confused enough as it was.

He poured his second glass and sat holding the dark tawny liquid to the
light.  He was, realised Lexie, exhibiting an unusual degree of
reluctance to come to the point.  His lordly self-assurance normally
carried him through any difficulty without any sign of uncertainty.  He
had not hesitated a moment before attempting to seduce her.

"Why did you wish to see me?"  she asked at last.  Incredibly, he
seemed to require help in coming to the point.

"I've missed you," he said simply.

"Indeed?"  Lexie congratulated herself on the coolness of her tone.

Storm swallowed a mouthful of wine before he went on, frowning.  The
love of his life appeared remarkably cool, which made his task the more
difficult.  "You should not have walked out, Lexie.  I intended to
apologise for my conceit in taking it for granted that you would wish
to continue our liaison.  But, since I believed you enjoyed our
love-making, I did not think to question it."

"I did enjoy it."

"But not enough to want it to continue."

"More than enough, Storm.  But not under those circumstances."

"Quite."  The silence echoed for a long moment.  Then Storm said,
harshly for him, "For reasons known only to yourself, you wished to
trap me into marriage."

Lexie shook her head.  Not trap.  Persuade.  There were many excellent
reasons for us to form an alliance."

He swirled the remaining Madeira round in his glass and inhaled the
bouquet.  "Whatever your reason may have been for suggesting it, I have
been considerin" that race.  It was a close run thing.  Had your drive
been twenty yards shorter you would have emerged the victor,"

"But it was not and you beat me bra head."

"Almost a dead heat," mused Storm.  "And I took my winnings, as you so
pointedly remarked before you left Frinton.  But--I think you are
entitled to claim yours,

tOO."

"Mine?"  Lexie had calmed down now.  This was a game of cat and mouse.
He was not going to admit to wanting to wed her.  She hid a smile. "But
I won nothing."

"True.  But a dead heat would have proved a fair result.  We would both
have won.  What would we have done had that occurred?"

Lexie looked at him, wide-eyed!  "You tell me."

He grinned, suddenly sure of himself again.  "I would have warmed your
bed immediately, but at the same time we would have announced our
engagement."

"So," said Lexie calmly.  "What are you suggesting?"  "Why, that we
treat the result as a draw.  We both win.  In other words, Lexie, I
will marry you, despite the fact that you have no true love for me and
do not relish bearing me an heir.  But in the event of our marriage
that would become your duty."

"Duty?"  Lexie coloured hotly.  Not love him!  But he had not admitted
to loving her.  She would let that go.  "What makes you think that I
would consider it a duty?"

"All those elaborate precautions you took during our time together to
avoid conceiving my child.  Did you think me so green that I did not
realise?"

"I hoped you had not.  I did not wish to offend you."  Lexie clenched:
her fists in her lap and drew a deep breath.  "Shall I tell you exactly
why I took care not to become pregnant?  I would have borne a bastard,
labelled for life as such whatever his or her upbringing.  A boy child
would havo had no claim on your inherit-ante: He would have been in a
worse situation than Hugo, who at least ha the right to use the family
name and to expect help and support from his relations."

Storm looked taken aback by this tirade.  The arrogance returned as he
met her challenge.  "I have always seen my children well cared for.
Surprising as it may seem to you, my dear, I take an interest in their
welfare."

Lexie could accept without rancour the fact of his having already sired
children.  In that respect he was no different to a widower with an
existing family.  "But you would not contemplate making one of them ye
heir, I collect."

"Their mothers" quality would scarcely support such a notion."

"I see.  And would mine have made a scrap difference?  I think not. And
what of me, Storm?  Lo, at the furore over Fanny's conceiving a child
out wedlock!  Imagine the sensation if the outrageo Countess of Amber
were to appear with a bastard leading-strings?

"You woMd have had no need--'

Lexie cut him off.  "No need to keep it.  I agree.  But am not made
like that, my lord.  I should have want to nurture the child, to bring
it up myself.  Which wok have meant complete retirement from Society.
At the chance of making a decent second marriage wou have been gone for
ever."

Storm regarded her broodingly.  "Did it never occ to you that, had you
conceived, I would have mar ri you?"

"I could not depend upon it, my lord.  You hal never felt the necessity
before.  Besides, I did not to pressure you once my venture with the
wager faile I accepted defeat."

Storm was, suddenly, kneeling by her side, both hands clasped in his.
"My dear girl, I had no idea y would feel like that.  My masculine mind
could not conceive... My former mistresses, the two who bore me a
child, accepted the situation without regr It meant they would be kept
in comfortable circu stances for life, that their child would never
want.  had forgot that your outlook would be different."

Lexie had begun to tremble.  Reaction, his nearnes:

a myriad of emotions jostled for predominance.  The one that won was
love.

She released one of her hands from his grasp and ran her fingers
through a stray lock that had fallen over his forehead, smoothing it
back, and looked deeply into blue eyes which, for the first time that
she could recall, were limpid, clear of all pretence or artifice.

"Do not imagine I did not long to bear your child, my dear James.  It
was simply more practical to ensure that I did not."

"You mean it would not be a mere duty to carry my heir?"

She shook her head.  At last she felt free to say it.  "I love you,
James.  I have done so for a long time.  Only at the very first did I
want you because of other things, and they were not money or title, but
compatibility, pleasure in your company.  By the time I suggested the
wager, it was in order to win my heart's desire."

Storm sat back on his heels, studying her captivating face.  Rosy now
to matcher gown, her golden curls escaping from her little cap to frame
it.  And her eyes, greener than he had ever seen them before, were
regarding him with such a look in them that his heart begun to thud.

"Grandmama said you loved me," he said with a breathless laugh.  "I did
not dare to believe her."

"She is perceptive and wise.  I find her quite delightful."

"She also informed me that I was besotted with you," he went on wryly.
"I would not admit it, even to myself, but she was right, as usual.
Lexie, my dearest love, I

declare myself your slave for life.  Dare I hope that you will marry
me?"

Lexie's eyes closed as a sweep of relief stopped her breath.  Then her
face broke into a radiant smile.  "Oh, yes, James!"

He lifted both her hands to his lips and then looked up, all the old,
mocking laughter back in his eyes.  Only this time it was
self-mocking.

"I never anticipated that I would find myself declaring my love on my
knees, despite a regrettable expectation among most green girls that no
suitor could mean it unless he did!"  With which he lifted her to her
feet the better to take her in his arms and kiss her until she had no
choice but to cling to him for support.

"When will you marry me?"  he demanded at last, seating her on the sofa
and dropping beside her to take her back into his arms.  "It must be
soon.  I am impatient to have you back in my bed."

"You think we should wait?"  murmured Lexie haughtily.

"Most certainly.  I am determined upon observing the utmost propriety."
His hand found her breast and cupped it, his thumb teasing through the
layers of cloth.

"Really?"  murmured Lexie, revelling in the thrill of his touch.  "I
believe you are behaving in a most forward manner, my lord!"

He chuckled.  "Allow my hands a little licence, do not starve me
entirely.  But I shall not make the mistake of seducing you again
before our wedding.  You were not designed for such intrigues, my
darling."

They were still engaged in savouring their newfound happiness, mostly
without the aid of words,

when Dymock rapped on the door and coughed discreetly before
entering.

Storm kept Lexie firmly in his arms.

"Yes, Dymock?  What is it?"

Dymock coughed.  "May I be the first to congratulate you, my lord?  And
to wish you happy, my lady?"

Reluctantly, Lexie extricated herself from Storm's embrace.

"I suppose finding us like this could have but one explanation," she
admitted.  "Thank you, Dymock.  See that there is plenty of ale in the
servants" quarters this evening with which to drink our health."

"With pleasure, my lady.  I came, to inform you that Lord Dexter and
Lady Fanny Graham are below.  Are you at home?"

"Send them up!"

As Dymock bowed and withdrew, Storm stood, too.  "They will be
surprised to hear our news."

"Perhaps.  But pleased, too.  You will put an announcement in the
papers?"

"That an engagement has been entered into, yes.  And the date of the
ceremony, if we can agree it."

"I am so thankful that you did not come merely to ask permission to
approach my father, like Lord Cranley!  I am no longer dependent upon
his approval for anything I do!"

At that moment Fanny came into the room, closely followed by Felix.

"James!"  she cried in surprise.  "I did not expect to discover you
here!"

"Did you not, my love?"  wondered Felix.  "I cannot say I am surprised,
after your appearance at the ball last evening, Storm.  Are we to
congratulate you?"

"Indeed you may!  Lady Alexia has agreed to ma, me."

"Oh, James!"  Fanny rushed over to kiss him and Lexie.  "Grandmama will
be so pleased!  She positiw dotes on Lexie!"

"So," observed the Marquess, "does the Duke.  Le: won his admiration
during his stay at Merryfield.  ] has not stopped singing her praises
since."

Lxie walked over and put her hand through Storn arm.  "Poor James! When
you were trying so hard put me out of your thought st

"An impossible task, my love."

"When are you to wed?"  demanded Fanny.  "is decided?"

"Not yet.  Give us a chance, dear sister!  We of agreed on it half an
hour ago!"

"Then we are the first to know!  How enchanti Felix, my love, I have an
ideal How amusing to have double wedding!"

"A charming idea, my love.  Storm, what do you sa You and your sister
wed on the same day!  That shot give the gabble-grinders something to
specul about!"

"But I am supposed to be supporting you, my friend.  "I can easily find
someone else to fill that role."

Storm looked at Lexie.  "What do you say, my low Could you be ready in
time?"

"What do I need but a new gown?  And if we hal the solicitors... But
the notice may be too short allow of my parents travelling."

"Does that concern you?"

Lexie shook her head.  "They abandoned me Amber, caring little whether
I was happy or not.

correspond only occasionally and I do not pine to see them again.  But
we must inform Cousin Cato!"  She pulled the bell cord and when Dymock
appeared told him to inform Mrs.  Baldwin that she was wanted in the
morning-room.

Caro was predictably effusive in her congratulations and excited at the
prospect of a double wedding But Lexie noticed a look of concern on the
older woman's face when she thought no one was looking.

"You will remain with me, of course, Cousin," she hastened to reassure
her.  "I shall be in need of someone to take care of both this
establishment and Merry field when we take up residence at Stormaston
Park.  Would that responsibility suit you?"

Caro'S face immediately cleared.  "I am honoured that you should trust
me with it, dearest Alexia," she fluttered,

And talk returned to the forthcoming nuptials.

In the event the double wedding became the highlight of the Little
Season.  Every effort was made to keep the ceremony simple, the
attendance restricted, but this proved impossible, despite the shortage
of time left to make the arrangements.

The days passed in a whirl of activity, of planning, not only for the
wedding but for life afterwards.

"Come to the Continent with us!"  suggested Fanny one day as she and
Lexie were discussing the wedding.  "You surely do not wish to spend
your honeymoon at Stormaston Park!  And if you do not, I shall have no
companion but my husband after we are wed!"

"My dear Fanny," laughed Lexie, to whom this wholly unattractive
proposition had been put.  "I am more than happy to go to Stormaston
Park--remeber, I have not yet seen my new home!  And you w need no
other companion but Felix!  You will ha your maid and his man with you.
You will not wish travel with a larger party."

Fanny appeared uncertain.  "But it is usual for new brides to take a
companion on honeymoon."

"Green girls who scarcely know the man they ha, married!  Who have no
notion of what goes on in t bedroom!  You have no need of the missish
misgivin which bedevil those poor creatures.  You know Felix every way.
You may trust him to see that you want f nothing while you are away."

"But the baby," murmured Fanny.  "Supposing something goes wrong?"

"Your maid is an experienced woman of the world And if you are truly in
trouble later on, you can always send for help.  But I do not think
either Jam or Felix would approve your plan.  And I con fe Fanny, I
would rather have James to myself during the first weeks of our
marriage."

Well, of course, I would prefer to be alone wil Felix.  But..."

"But you are suffering from bridal nerves!  Bear u Fanny!  You have no
need to be nervous.  You w return in a years" time with a bonny infant
to bri your nursery to life."

Fanny went away reassured, leaving Lexie with h, own worries.  When
Storm next called, which he did daily, she confided them to him.

"James, I wonder whether I am doing right : marrying you," she began as
he released her from h embrace.

His expression of outrage almost overset her composure.  His words
did.

"Right?  My dear girl, who was it who urged the match from the
beginning of our re-acquaintance?  It is a little late to begin to have
doubts now!  Unless, of course, you have discovered that you do not
love me after all?"

Considering the ardour with which she had returned his kiss, he could
not truthfully believe that!  "Don't be silly, James!"  Her voice
trembled, but whether with laughter or apprehension even she did not
know.  "Of course I still love you!  And it is because I love you so
much that this thing has been worrying me recently."

James; collecting his patience and wondering what worm was eating his
beloved now, asked, "What thing, my love?"  :

"I failed' to provide Amber with an heir;" she whispered miserably.
"Old Demelza in Cornwall said it was because my husband was too old.
But supposing she was wrong?  Supposing I prove barren?"

He gathered her into his arms again and pressed her hot face into his
shoulder.  :.,

"That would be unfortunate.  But not reason enough for me to regret
marrying you.  There is always Hugo and his progeny to fall back on. Or
even," he added, half-mischievously, "one of my by-blows."

"You truly would not hate me for not being fruitful?"  The anxious
expression on her face brought a tender smile to James's, a soft light
to his eyes.  "I should regret the circumstance, but I should still
love you, my Lexie.  Depend upon it, the old woman was right.  You need
have no fear."

"You are such a comfort," sighed Lexie, kissing the scar on his cheek.
"Do you know, Fanny wanted us to join them on the Continent to share
our honeymoons?"

James's horrified expression confirmed Lexie's view of what his
reaction would be.  "You did not agree?"

"I did not!  Felix would probably have a fit, not to mention you!  She
is simply suffering from pre-nuptial nerves!"

"And so are you, my love.  In a yeaifs time you will both be contented
matrons visiting your offspring in the nursery and neglecting your poor
husbands!"

"Never!"  Lexie gave a happy laugh, her doubts laid to rest, for the
moment at least.  "Oh, James, I can hardly wait for the great day!"

"Nor I. But I am glad we are.  Only a week more and I can take you with
God's and the world's blessing.  And you will have no dark cloud on
your conscience to interfere with your pleasure.  You know, I never
felt you were truly mine."

"I never felt entirely comfortable," Lexie admitted.  "But there will
be no limitations on our love once we reach Stormaston Park.  I am
eager for you to see the estate.  I love it, and I hope you will,
too."

Lexie did, on sight, despite the lateness of the hour of their arrival.
The windows of the house blazed with light to greet its new mistress.
The staff lined up and were introduced.  So many of them!  Lexie
wondered whether she would ever remember all their names!  But, it
appeared, James knew each one by name, knew their position in the
household, whether they were married, how many children they had and
what ailments they suffered, right down to the yawning boot boy.

She would explore the rest of the house next day.  Meanwhile, she
discovered that the master suite contained a huge tester bed in which
generations of Grahams had been born.

Lexie submitted to Chalker's ministration while Marlow assisted Storm
to disrobe.  They both took a bath, necessary after the heat of the
reception room and the long journey which followed.

"God's blessings on you both, my lady," offered Chalker as she prepared
to leave for her own bed.

"Thank you, Florence.  I hope you will be happy here?

Chalker smiYed.  "I can see no reason why not, my lady.  Such a
household!  And you'll be visiting London at least once a year.  Don't
worry yourself over me."

Cato had returned to Bruton Street, preening herself, on being left in
charge.  Lexie knew her cousin would keep the place in perfect trim.
Merryfield, too, for she had been left with a coach and horses to take
her there whenever she felt it necessary.

All in all, things had worked out well.  For Oswald Cresswell and
Melissa Dayen, try, too.  Melissa had won her campaign to captivate
Oswald and had even managed to overcome the opposition of his mama.
They were to be wed the following autumn.

But although such thoughts ran along the surface of Lexie's mind as she
lay waiting in the bed, her ears were strained for the sound of her
husband coming to her from the adjoining dressing room.

He did not take long over his ablutions.  As he slipped in beside her,
the unhappy intervening months dropped away and it seemed like only
yesterday that they had been together.  Yet although their voyage of
discovery of each other followed a familiar pattern, their emotions
were heightened not only by long abstinence, but also by declared love
and the new awareness of being joined together in matrimony until
death.

The cloud had disappeared from Lexie's mind.  And Storm, discovering in
himself the capacity to actually enjoy being leg-shackled to his new
Marchioness, exceeded even his previous achievements in the matter of
expert wooing, combining this with such tenderness that Lxie ended up
in tears of supreme joy.

They spent Christmas with the Duke and Duchess in Kent, but returned
thankfully to Stormaston Park as soon they decently could.

Lexie had never enquired as to what had transpired between the brothers
after Storm had discovered the truth after the duel, but Hugo had
returned to his regiment nursing a sore chin and a black eye.  They saw
nothing of him, although he did visit his grandparents from time to
time.

"To extract money to pa3 This debts, no doubt," Storm remarked
cynically.  "He knows there is no point in applying to me."

In May news reached them that Fanny had been delivered, without
trouble, of a boy, in Italy.  Napoleon, who had escaped from Elba, was
back in Paris and an army, led by the Duke of Wellington, was gathering
near Brussels to confront him.  Viscount Dexter and his Viscountess
would perforce remain in Italy until the autumn before attempting the
journey home.  They had named the boy Peter and the family could
announce the birth in late August.

The last of Lexie's fears were laid to rest when she became pregnant
some two months after the wedding.  The child was born in November.
The Honourable Peter St.  Clare, who had been brought home a week
earlier, was, of course, obviously older and much bigger than his
diminutive cousin.

With the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo, where Hugo had unexpectedly
distinguished himself, the Dexters had been able to journey home
through France.  No one outside the family had seen the baby yet. Fanny
intended keeping him incommunicado on a remote St.  Clare estate.

"In a year or so's time no one will notice the difference," she
proclaimed cheerfully when she came to visit Lexie after her
confinement.

Felix had poked his head round the door and the couple appeared
radiantly happy, which, for Lexie, was all that mattered.

Alone with James, she sighed.  "Perhaps it is as well our baby is a
girl.  No one will expect her to be so big as Peter.  But I am sorry I
could not manage you an heir, my darling."  .

"I am already deeply in love with Lady Elizabeth," James told her,
touching the baby's silky, golden hair where it had escaped from its
cap.  "And I'll wager that our next will be a boy.

"What do you have in mind as a stake?"  demanded Lexie.

Storm grinned.  "Nothing too dramatic or

Fifty guineas?"

"Done!"

He won the wager, naturally.  Lexie parted with her money in a glow of
delighted achievement.  And received it and more back again in the form
o an exquisite heart-shaped brooch, presented with he husband's
constant and abiding love.