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By the feeble light of dawn, a restless Lord Silverblade left his mistress sleeping in the summerhouse and strolled outside into the secluded clearing. He inhaled the scent of mossy earth and looked around, shivering as the damp morning air chilled the bare flesh of his arms and chest. Towering oak trees and a tangled jungle of shrubs and vines surrounded him like an impenetrable fortress. Even where the trees thinned and parted, revealing a steep hill and green fields divided by low stone walls, this private place was still guarded from prying eyes.

Nicholas stopped at the edge of the clearing to survey his vast domain, noticing how hushed and tranquil the May morning was. Not a leaf rustled, not a bird sang. He smiled lazily as he turned and looked back at the summerhouse, a fanciful bit of architecture with tightly closed shutters and an upturned red tile roof. Now, not even a low moan of contentment from Pamela disturbed the serenity of this enchanted place, though last night ... He grinned, for the memory was still fresh in his mind.

Suddenly the stillness was shattered by the drumming of hooves. Nicholas scowled in consternation and listened. The distant rumble kept growing louder and closer, and within seconds he felt the first faint tremors in the earth beneath his feet. It would not be long now. He waited, eager to confront the intruder.

His patience was soon rewarded. A magnificent chestnut horse came flying over the crest of a nearby hill, his glossy red-gold coat turned to fire by the rising sun and jets of white steam puffing from his flared nostrils.

A fire-breathing dragon ravaging the peaceful Surrey countryside, Nicholas thought.

However, itwas not the spirited animal that caught and held his attention, but the rider crouched low over the horse's arched neck. The lad was so small in comparison to his strapping mount that he looked as insignificant as a burr caught in the horse's mane.

At first Nicholas dismissed the stripling as some undergroom out exercising one of his master's thoroughbreds, but as the pair drew closer, his cold gray eyes narrowed suspiciously. Despite the fact that the slender youth wore fitted buff-colored breeches and rode astride, a man of Nicholas' considerable experience was not fooled. He would have known the chestnut's rider was a woman even if her white lawn shirt weren't clinging so provocatively to her small, softly rounded breasts.

When the woman reached the foot of the hill, she reined in her mount effortlessly and stared up at the man standing there watching her so intently. At first she hesitated, as if debating the wisdom of approaching a stranger. Then, with a reckless shrug, she touched her heel to her mount's ribs and urged him up the slope.

Horse and rider drew closer. Nicholas noticed that the woman's thick, curling hair matched the rich copper-gold fire of her mount's coat. Even though she had tied her mane out of the way with a narrow black ribbon, soft, wispy tendrils had escaped to frame her delicate oval face in a most feminine manner.

Still cautious, the woman halted her horse a prudent distance away, where the high-strung animal proceeded to dance in place, his head bobbing up and down, his bit jingling impatiently. But when his rider placed a hand on his foam-flecked neck and murmured something, he quieted right down, obviously soothed by her gentle touch and soft voice. Then she eyed the man mistrustfully.

Nicholas really couldn't blame her, for he was half-naked, clad only in the breeches he had hastily pulled on after rising. A lovely woman cavorting about the countryside without the protection of a groom couldn't be too careful of strangers, he thought wryly, especially half-dressed men.

To put her at ease, he granted her one of his most disarming smiles. "Ah, Diana herself..."

Two huge, guileless blue eyes stared down at him in puzzlement. "But I am not Diana," she said in a clear, sweet voice, "I am Aurora."

He bowed deferentially. "Perhaps goddess of the dawn is more appropriate after all."

Suddenly comprehension lit her face and she laughed, a delightful, melodic trill that bubbled up from deep within her and more than compensated for the lack of birdsong. "Oh, now I understand. I suppose I should be flattered to be compared to a goddess, but Aurora is actually my name. Aurora Falconet."

Falconet ... Nicholas' smile suddenly died at a particularly sharp and painful memory and he stared, searching her face for any resemblance to the Falconet he had once loved as a brother. He cursed himself for not seeing it immediately--the pale blue eyes with their challenging gleam, the strong, stubborn chin, the defiant tilt of the head.

She even had her brother's quick intuitiveness as well, for her finely arched brows came together in a scowl. "Is something wrong? You looked at me quite oddly just then."

Nicholas recovered his composure and smiled again. "I'm assuming you are Diana Falconet's sister, staying with her at Overton Manor." His eyes narrowed as they roved over the red mountain of excitable horseflesh, now as docile as a lapdog. "Isn't that Lord Overton's new stallion, the one that broke the head groom's arm and kicked three ostlers senseless?"

Aurora's face was the picture of affronted innocence. "Firelight?" she said incredulously. "This gentle lamb? This sweet baby? Lies, all lies."

"Are they, now? From what I've heard, that 'sweet baby' would just as soon throw you and trample you as look at you."

Aurora slapped the animal's neck, then reached over to scratch him between the ears, causing him to close his eyes and whicker softly in equine contentment.

"Firelight wouldn't do that to me, would you, boy?" she crooned. "We understand each other. I know what's in his heart and mind, don't I, my sweet baby?"

But Nicholas was not convinced and suddenly feared for her safety. "Miss Falconet, I insist that you dismount at once!" He stepped forward, his arm outstretched to grasp the bridle and hold the horse's head steady so its rider could dismount.

When the sudden movement caused Firelight to whistle a warning as he began prancing again, Nicholas jumped back out of harm's way. Miss Falconet, however, remained steadfast in the saddle.

Now she was glaring down at him scornfully, that determined chin outthrust. "I can assure you your fears for my safety are groundless. I am an excellent rider. And I'll thank you not to frighten Firelight again. He's skittish around strangers. Now, if you'll kindly give me directions to Overton Manor, I shall be on my way."

Before Nicholas could reply, he was distracted by the sound of the summerhouse door creaking open, followed by a languid, sleepy voice calling his name.

Then Pamela emerged, her tousled golden hair tumbling about her shoulders in wild abandon, her wrinkled gown looking as though she had hastily dragged it on without assistance. When she saw Lord Silverblade in the company of what appeared to be another young gentleman, she froze for a second, then visibly began to preen. Pamela tossed her hair out of her eyes with a coquettish gesture, tugged at the waist of her gown to adjust it, then shrugged herself into the bodice in a belated attempt at modesty.

Nicholas turned to find Aurora gawking at Pamela in frank bewilderment. Gradually comprehension dawned and Aurora's pale, freckled face grew rosy with embarrassment.

"If you'll kindly give me directions to Overton Manor," she said, quickly looking away from the half-dressed woman gliding toward them, "I shall be on my way."

Nicholas pointed off to his right. "Just ride up that rise, turn left, and follow the stone wall for approximately five miles. You'll soon come to Overton land."

Aurora mumbled her thanks, leaned forward, and made a clicking sound that caused Firelight to bolt as if he had been shot from a cannon.

For a moment Nicholas just stood and watched with his heart in his mouth as horse and rider charged down the hill at breakneck speed, gathering momentum with every long stride. If Firelight should step into a hidden rabbit hole it would spell certain death for both of them, but Aurora Falconet seemed oblivious of the danger as she urged her horse on.

Nicholas felt Pamela's hand rest lightly on his arm, and when he looked down at her, he somehow wasn't surprised to find her attention riveted on the horseman galloping away.

"Nicholas, who was that handsome young gentleman?" she asked in her throaty voice.

He chuckled. "I wish you could see the expression on your face, my dear. You look as though you'd like to devour the lad whole. You should also never express interest in another man while in my presence, or I fear I shall become wildly jealous and challenge him to a duel."

"Nicholas, stop teasing me!" Pamela said with a stamp of her tiny bare foot. "I may be scandalously unfaithful to my doddering old fool of a husband, but you know I would never be unfaithful to you. I was merely curious, that's all."

He reached over to pluck out a bit of dried brown leaf tangled in her hair. "Oh, I know that, my lovely Pamela, especially," he added, glancing at the horseman one last time, "not with that particular young gentleman. You see," Nicholas whispered into her ear, "that he is a she."

Pamela's head jerked back and her eyes widened in surprise. "Whatever is a young woman doing traipsing about the countryside dressed as a man?"

Nicholas shrugged. "Presumably she is an eccentric. She probably keeps seventy cats and allows them all to sleep in her bed every night."

Pamela scoffed at that. "I doubt if she shares her bed with seventy cats, my lord. She is far too beautiful. And she rides well."

Nicholas raised his brows at such faint praise. "Rides well, you say? She rides as though she were part horse herself. A veritable centaur."

"Did this object of your boundless admiration tell you who she is?"

"Her name is Aurora Falconet and she is Diana Falconet's sister."

Pamela glanced at him. "Then she's Tim Falconet's sister as well."

When Nicholas made no reply and his playful mood abruptly vanished with the quickness of a cloud moving over the sun, Pamela sensed the change in him at once.

"She is so like him," Nicholas mused, his eyes following the horse and rider as they miraculously reached the foot of the slope unscathed. "Bold, reckless...

Pamela noticed the look of pain that passed so fleetingly over his face and she rushed to ease it the only way she knew how.

"Nicholas," she murmured, turning her back to him and lifting her hair, "would you mind hooking up my gown the rest of the way? I'm all thumbs when it comes to dressing myself, as you well know."

One look at her creamy white back was enough to divert him. "Then next time," he said, brushing his lips against the nape of her neck as his fingers worked to unhook her instead, "we shall ask your maid to join us."

"Nicholas!" Pamela cried in mock indignation. "What an improper suggestion!"

He grinned as he unfastened the last hook. "Haven't I always taught you that variety is the spice of life, my wanton Pamela?"

"You handsome, incorrigible, irresistible rogue."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

His work done, Nicholas turned his mistress to face him. As always, Pamela's perfect beauty took his breath away and caused his heart to hammer violently against his ribs. Even after making love to her all night, he could still take her again.

Now, as Nicholas cupped her heart-shaped face between his palms, savoring the smooth, silken feel of her skin as he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, Pamela was regarding him hungrily out of half-closed eyes, her pink lips slightly parted and waiting for his kiss.

Instead, he let his fingertips trail lightly down the long column of her neck and across her collarbone.

Pamela closed her eyes and sighed raggedly in surrender. "Oh, Nicholas..."

Then he slipped his hands beneath the fabric of her gown and pushed. The bodice fell away, baring Pamela's high white breasts, the erect nipples like twin rosy pearls ready for his touch. Nicholas felt the familiar, immediate tightening in his loins even before he reached out to fondle one warm, heavy breast possessively, testing its weight as it filled his hand.

Pamela groaned softly and swayed toward him. "Please, Nicholas..."

He only released her so he could tug at her gown and strip her completely. Pamela's eyes flew open in surprise and she quickly looked around at the fields beyond, but made no attempt to conceal her unabashed nakedness.

She shivered. "Nicholas, someone will see us."

"You sound almost hopeful, my lady of the perfect ivory body."

Nicholas swung her effortlessly into his arms and dropped a fierce, proprietary kiss on her rosy, pouting mouth, causing her to whimper in anticipation. But as he carried Pamela back to the privacy of the summerhouse to resume their dalliance, he couldn't resist glancing across the fields one last time. To his keen disappointment, Aurora Falconet and her headstrong stallion had vanished from sight.

He kicked open the door with a bang and carried Pamela inside. Soon Aurora Falconet was forgotten.

When Aurora reached the top of the rise, she halted Firelight and looked back. Although too far away to see the two figures very clearly, she was close enough to discern the man undressing his companion and carrying her back toward the Chinese summerhouse.

"Well, Firelight," she muttered, patting the animal's smooth neck, "we certainly know what those two are about, don't we?"

The horse nodded his head and pawed the earth, uprooting clumps of grass and sending them flying through the air.

"We happened upon a lovers' tryst." Aurora stared at the grove for a moment, then shrugged and touched her heel to Firelight's side. "None of our affair."

Her lithe body easily synchronized itself with her horse's smooth, rocking canter and she rode off in the direction that would lead her to Overton Manor. Try as she might, Aurora couldn't get the stranger out of her mind. She hadn't expected to meet anyone abroad this early in the morning, save for farmers working their fields, so she was startled to come upon a half-dressed man brazenly watching her as he stood in the middle of a clearing.

She guessed him to be old--perhaps all of thirty--but his body had intrigued her, for the stranger was tall, broad-shouldered, and slender, his naked torso as sleek and well muscled as Firelight. And he was scarred.

Aurora's curiosity was aroused as she recalled the long smooth scar on his left breast, just above his heart. Perhaps he had been just a split second too slow to evade the sharp point of an opponent's slashing sword. And what of the livid ridged scar plowing through the pale flesh of his narrow waist, just above his right hipbone? That could have been made only by a ball fired from a pistol. The fresh red scratches she had noticed on his back, however, were doubtless from a battle of quite a different kind.

He was obviously a man who was not afraid to fight; she had to say that for him.

As her horse's breakneck speed whipped the wind into her eyes, Aurora tried to put the stranger out of her mind. To her chagrin, his strong, distinct features lingered in her memory, as tormenting as a burr under the saddle. Unlike most men, he did not wear a wig or powder his black hair, and like his scars, a broken nose that veered off at the tip was also a testament to battles won or lost.

But it was the stranger's eyes that had made Aurora shiver with uneasiness. They were a haunting shade of gray, cold as rapier steel and just as merciless in their thorough scrutiny of her.

"Now, there is a man who is full of his own importance, Firelight," she declared as she slowed her horse to a sedate walk. "He acts just like God, and the world be damned. I may be a better judge of horseflesh than I am of people, but I don't like him, and I hope we never meet again. And as for his companion..." Aurora snickered unkindly. "She was very beautiful, Firelight, but obviously a woman of the basest character and reputation. She's probably his doxy."

The moment the words slipped out of her mouth, Aurora was overcome by shame. She knew she shouldn't be so quick to judge and condemn the blond woman without knowing her, for wasn't her own sister living with a man not her husband?

"But it's not the same," Aurora assured Firelight, who cocked one ear back to listen. "Diana's been Overton's mistress for so long, I am sure they are married in the eyes of God if not in the laws of man."

Suddenly Aurora topped the crest of another hill, and sure enough, there, as the stranger had promised, was Overton Manor nestled in a valley. Impatient to be back in his stall with a breakfast of hot mash awaiting him, Firelight surged forward, but Aurora held him back, for she didn't want to return just yet. She needed some time to be alone, to come to terms with her new home.

If it hadn't been for her father, Aurora would still be living at Falconstown, her beloved home in Ireland.

She squeezed her eyes shut to fight back tears that still welled up too easily. She could remember too clearly that black, sorrowful night a little over two months ago when her father had come staggering into the main hall, his mouth slack and his glazed eyes enormous as he kept muttering, "Lost it all. Everything. Gone," over and over in a bizarre litany of despair.

When Aurora tried to help him, he looked right through her, shoved her away, and lurched up the stairs to his room. Once inside, he bolted the door from the inside and wouldn't open it. Tearful and panic-stricken, Aurora sobbed and pleaded with him, pounding on the door until her fists were red and bleeding.

How could she ever forget the sight that greeted her eyes when several footmen later broke down the door? There was her beloved father swinging from a rope, his face mercifully averted, the flickering candlelight causing his elongated shadow to jump and dance grotesquely on the opposite wall.

They carried her out bodily, kicking and screaming, before she could see her father's face. All she saw was the note he had scrawled just before he stood on a chair and stepped off into oblivion. All it said was, "I'm sorry for failing my beautiful Aurora, and hope she will one day find it in her heart to forgive me."

Aurora didn't learn just how miserably her father had failed her until a week after his funeral, when one of their neighbors, Lord Fitzhugh, came to call and she received him in the drawing room. In a chilling, gloating voice he informed her that her father had been gambling heavily with some cronies the evening of his death, and he had lost virtually everything he owned to Lord Fitzhugh.

Although still numb with grief and shocked by this latest disclosure, Aurora did not dishonor herself by throwing herself on Lord Fitzhugh's mercy and begging him to cancel the debts. She gathered all the dignity and self-possession she could muster, faced him squarely, and told him that she would leave Falconstown as soon as she could find another place to live.

And then Lord Fitzhugh boldly tendered a proposition that would allow Aurora to remain in the home she loved. But at a price. All she had to do was agree to marry him.

To her credit, she resisted the impulse to laugh at the bowlegged little man and instead gravely informed him that she would consider his proposal. And she did. She thought of the thirty years' difference in their ages, and the three wives he had already buried. She thought of his watery, protruding eyes, his razor-sharp nose, and his rotting brown teeth that befouled his every breath. She thought of enduring his intimacies in the marriage bed.

Aurora politely refused Lord Fitzhugh the next day. Then she wrote to her estranged sister, informed her of their father's death, and begged her for sanctuary.

Two weeks later, the sister she hadn't seen for seven years, since 1743, came to Falconstown herself to take Aurora back to England and Overton Manor.

Now, as she surveyed the large Elizabethan manor house of warm red brick surrounded by verdant lawns and carefully laid out gardens, Aurora sighed in contentment, sure that she had made the right choice. Both Diana and Overton had made her feel so welcome, and within a week Aurora felt as though she had been living there all her life. Ireland and her father's death belonged to the past.

Beneath her, Firelight began to prance and snort impatiently.

"All right, all right," Aurora murmured.

She gave the red-gold stallion his head, and together they raced like the wind for home.

When Aurora finally finished scrubbing the pungent odor of horse from her body, she stepped shivering out of her bath and dried herself with a soft lavender-scented towel. Then she slipped on her gold silk wrapping gown, shook out her damp unruly hair, and summoned her maid to dress her. Aurora resented the heavy linen corset, but she allowed herself to be laced in; then she stepped into an underskirt and stood still while the maid pulled a pretty gown of green flowered lawn down over her head.

No sooner did the maid finish dressing her hair than there came a knock at the door, and Diana came sweeping into the room.

Aurora regarded her beautiful older sister in frank admiration and just a touch of envy. Diana was tall and graceful, with a smooth ivory complexion unblemished by freckles and soft light brown hair that did what it was told. With her thin nose, rosebud mouth, and eyes the compelling blue of sapphires, Diana was the uncontested beauty of the family.

She nodded briefly at the maid and smiled warmly at her sister. "Good morning, Aurora. Have you had breakfast yet?"

Aurora rose from her dressing table to kiss her sister on the cheek. "Good morning, Diana. No, I haven't."

"Well, neither have I, so why don't we share a cup of cocoa, shall we? Sarah, will you go down to the kitchen and have cook make us some cocoa and toast?"

After the maid left, Diana said, "My, aren't you one for rising with the lark!" She delicately stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. "I must confess I am a lazy creature and seldom rise before ten myself."

Aurora stared at her sister in puzzlement. Diana looked anything but lazy, her eyes bright and alert, her expression lively.

"I usually rise at dawn to go riding," Aurora explained.

"Is that where you were this morning, out riding?"

"Yes. I rode Firelight."

"Oh," was all Diana said in a quelling tone. "And did you have Halley's permission to do so?"

Aurora swallowed hard, shook her head, and hung it in shame.

Diana made an exasperated noise and shook her head. Then she grasped her sister's hands and held them tightly. "Aurora, look at me."

Aurora opened her eyes to find Diana regarding her gravely.

"You should have asked Halley's permission before you rode that horse," Diana said. "The animal is dangerous. You could have been seriously injured or even killed."

"But, Diana," she protested, "you know there isn't a horse alive that I can't ride."

Diana smiled at some cherished long-ago memory. "I remember. Tim and I used to call you our Gypsy changeling because of the mysterious power you had over animals. All you had to do was whisper in their ears and they did whatever you asked."

Aurora's eyes shone with pride. "And I haven't lost that power. Firelight was as docile as a baby. He--"

"It makes no difference whatsoever." Diana became stern again. "You shouldn't have ridden the horse without Halley's permission. He was furious when he saw you come cantering across the lawn this morning."

Privately Diana thought that Halley was not upset with Aurora for having ridden the animal, only that she had done so without his permission. She had flouted his supreme authority, and as Diana well knew, no one dared do that to Lord Overton.

"I ... I'm sorry," Aurora said. "I won't let it happen again."

"See that you don't." Diana dropped her sister's hands and walked over to the chair where Aurora's breeches and shirt lay neatly folded. She wrinkled her nose contemptuously. "And I would suggest you put these away while you're living here at Overton Manor. Halley was scandalized when he saw you in these, and I can't say that I blame him."

Rebellion flared deep in Aurora's breast like a sudden flame. "But, Diana, Father always let me dress as a man when I went riding."

"Father was far too lenient with you. If our mother had still been alive when you moved to Ireland, I'm sure you would have had a proper upbringing like a proper gentlewoman. You're a young lady of seventeen, Aurora, and you should act like one."

Aurora bristled at any implied criticism of her father, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "I won't hear a word spoken against him, Diana."

Diana sighed and wished she hadn't spoken so hastily, for she knew how much Aurora revered their father and always sprang to his defense. Diana had no wish to disillusion her, but their father was far from the saint Aurora thought him to be. It was too soon after Josiah Falconet's death to enlighten Aurora about a few matters, so Diana wisely held her tongue.

Instead, she extended her hand toward the silk striped settee. "Please sit down, Aurora. I must explain something to you."

No sooner did they sit down than they were interrupted by the maid bearing a huge silver tray with a pot of steaming hot chocolate, delicate porcelain cups, and a rack of toast. After setting down the tray, she bobbed a curtsy and left the two sisters alone once again. Once the chocolate was poured, Diana resumed speaking.

"If I were Halley's wife," she began, "I wouldn't care if you went riding dressed as a ... a nun." When Aurora finished stifling a giggle, Diana went on with, "But I am not his wife, I am his mistress. Halley can send me packing if I displease him. I am certain that he never will," she added hastily, seeing her sister's shocked expression, "but I must be realistic. There is always that possibility."

Diana set down her cup and toyed with the blond lace trimming her blue silk gown. "I am begging you not to spoil my situation by your unconventional behavior. Halley is the Viscount Overton, a gentleman and a peer of the realm. He has a position to uphold in society. As he warned me just this morning, he won't have you disgracing him by challenging one of his neighbors to a duel."

Aurora thought everyone was making much too much of her morning ride, but she held her tongue for she knew she owed her sister and Viscount Overton a great deal. If they hadn't agreed to take her in, she would have had to marry the odious Lord Fitzhugh or find herself a protector.

Diana said, "I'm giving you fair warning, Aurora. If you disgrace Overton in any way, he will withdraw his generous offer and send you away. Then where would you go? What would you do?"

"I'm sorry I upset everyone, Diana," she said, bowing her head contritely. "I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful. I promise not to disgrace you or Overton ever again."

Diana gave an inaudible sigh of relief. "I knew you would be sensible, Aurora."

Aurora fell silent as she ate her toast and drank her chocolate, but her thoughts were on Diana, the sister who had been a stranger to her for so long. Aurora had been only ten years old when Diana suddenly disappeared from her life, remaining in England while Aurora and their father went off to live on the Irish estate. Aurora missed her older sister so much she often cried herself to sleep night after night. But when she begged her father to bring Diana to her, he would glower and mutter, "Diana has brought scandal and shame to the Falconet family, and you'll never see her again as long as I'm alive."

Aurora was fourteen years old when she finally understood the reason for her father's callous attitude. One of her many governesses, a slattern more fond of the bottle than of her charge, informed her that her beloved Diana was no better than a whore, living with a man without benefit of matrimony. She had disgraced her family and her good name; that's why her father wanted nothing to do with her.

But after her father's death, a panic-stricken Aurora could think of no one else to turn to, and Diana did not disappoint her. She welcomed Aurora with a loving and open heart.

After finishing her second slice of toast, Aurora brushed the crumbs from her fingertips and said, "I think Father was wrong about you and Overton, Diana. Since I've been here, I've seen how much you really love him."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that, Aurora." Diana's voice shook slightly and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You'll never know how hurt I was when Father disowned me. But he just refused to understand how much I loved Halley and needed to be with him, no matter what the cost."

Privately Aurora wondered what her sister saw in Lord Overton to inspire such steadfast devotion, but she wisely held her tongue. Instead, she told Diana about the man she had seen on her ride that morning and asked her if she knew him.

Diana nodded. "The man you describe could only be Nicholas Devenish, the Marquess of Silverblade. He owns the neighboring estate that bears his name." She paused, then added, "Tell me, what did you think of him?"

Aurora frowned in distaste. "He struck me as arrogant and cold, ordering me about as though he were my master. I didn't like him at all."

Diana chuckled at that. "You must be the only woman in England, then. Most of the unmarried women I know would sell their souls to become his marchioness, and those that are already married would gladly leave their husbands for a liaison with him."

Aurora regarded her sister curiously. "Well, if you find him so attractive, why haven't you set your cap for him yourself?" The minute the words were out of her mouth, Aurora realized she had spoken without thinking once again.

But Diana didn't take offense by inferring that Aurora found Halley lacking in some way. "I love Halley," she explained simply. "Besides, I am far below Nicholas Devenish's touch. All of his women have been extraordinary in some way, either extremely beautiful or formidably intelligent, and often both. I am neither, I'm afraid."

"That's not true, Diana!"

Her sister smiled over the brim of her cup. "I do appreciate your loyalty." She sipped her chocolate. "I have always liked Nicholas. He has a special gift for making any woman feel beautiful and desirable, even if she is as plain as a pikestaff or past her prime. But I must warn you, Aurora, he runs with a fast set and does have quite an unsavory reputation as a rake. I would not be alone with him, if I were you."

Aurora thought of his lovely blond companion and said, "Oh, I have no intention of ever being alone with Lord Silverblade. You can be sure of that."

"Splendid," Diana said, finished her cocoa, and took her leave.

Once she was alone again, Aurora went to the carved oak chest at the foot of her bed, lifted the lid, and took out her father's sword. After sliding it from its scabbard, she held it in her hand, savoring its perfect balance and the way the steel blade captured the light and gleamed.

"I shall hate to give you up, old friend," she murmured. Aurora reluctantly slipped it back into the scabbard, then put it away.

Next she lifted out a shallow mahogany case. Inside, fitted into a bed of green baize, was a pair of flintlock pistols that had belonged to her father. They belonged to her now. She ran her fingers reverentially over the exquisite silver-wire inlays and the silver butt cap carved in the shape of a Gorgon's head.

She understood why her father had chosen to hang himself rather than shoot himself with one of his pistols. He believed these weapons should be used for honorable purposes only, and not be dishonored by taking their owner's life.

Aurora closed the box and hugged it to her chest for one brief moment. "I promise to use them only in honor, Father. I promise."

But use them she would, no matter what Diana or Halley said.