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She had clutched the pole, her legs threatening to collapse, and watched in helpless silence as the game played out.

When Lord Kenrick declared, “Over my dead body!” and pushed all his jettons into the game, her heart leaped.

Leaning against the door now, she heard him repudiate his agreement to wed her, and the old anger rose up again. So he was being forced into this?

Yet the alternative, marriage to Bidenden, was untenable. Better a reluctant Lord Kenrick than Bidenden.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed down the ball of anger as the door moved inwards, and she backed away hurriedly to find Mrs. Dove-Lyon entering the room. She shut it behind her and advanced on Cecey.

“It is all settled my dear, you are to marry Lord Kenrick before the end of the month.”

“He doesn’t wish to!”

“He will accustom himself.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon looked her over and straightened the gown which had fallen off one shoulder. She repinned a curl that had fallen out of its elaborate coiffure and said, “There, beautiful as a goddess. You may go and greet him now.”

“What? Like this? I’m practically naked!” Cecey protested, blushing.

“You’re to be his wife, my dear girl. And you need to reconcile him to his fate.”

Cecey swallowed again.

“I can assure you that no gentleman of young Lord Kenrick’s disposition and taste is going to be able to resist you in that gown. Go on.” She waved Cecey toward the door.

Biting her lip for courage, Cecey stepped slowly toward the door, straightening her back and lifting her chin. Inwardly, she was shaking like a leaf, but she was damned if she was going to let him see it.

He was standing before the fireplace, staring at the flames. They burnished his blond hair to copper, and where she had once thought him too tall and lanky, she now saw a reluctant knight. He had rescued her twice from Lord Bidenden, and he had kissed her that night a year ago in the gardens. Surely it all had to mean something? That he cared a little? Her heart yearned with a sudden, fierce ache.

He must have heard the door, for he turned to face her and his eyes widened as he took in her gown. He had seen it before of course, but perhaps the angle had not afforded him the same view, for she could see his gaze traveling over her form and an expression she couldn’t interpret stealing onto his face. Appreciation? Perhaps, she dared to hope. She wanted to hide herself in modesty, but that wouldn’t serve her now. She had to brazen it out. So, she stepped forward bravely and tried to pretend that appearing half naked in front of a gentleman was not so extraordinary.

He moved toward her, meeting her halfway. He bowed stiffly. “Miss Woodrow.”

She curtsied awkwardly. “Lord Kenrick.”

He stared down into her face, which was lifted to his, and said carefully, “You are never to appear in public wearing that gown again.” A slow smile spread over his elastic features. “But I would be delighted to see you wear it again in private. Diana.”

She flushed. “I could not help overhearing,” she said, unable to play the role of dutiful or even seductive bride with his words of rejection still ringing in her ears. “You do not wish for this.”

His features twisted. “You’re right, I didn’t choose it. But since I’ve no desire to end my life in debtors’ prison—”

She gasped and clutched his arm involuntarily at the picture his words conjured. “Surely not!”

He smiled, but there was something ironic and a shade bitter behind his eyes. “I’m jesting—it’s not that bad. My mother will be pleased at any rate.”

“The duchess!” Cecey’s heart kicked at the sudden realization that she was about to acquire a formidable mother-in-law. What the Dowager Duchess of Troubridge lacked in inches, she more than made up for in regal pride. Would that lady approve of her? She rather feared not. And then there was the duke. He was equally formidably proud. She still recalled the faint look of disdain he had directed her way in her first season.

Her life was about to change in very dramatic ways that she felt ill prepared for. Not for the first time, she cursed her foolishness in going into the gardens with Lord Bidenden. But it couldn’t be undone now, and here was the consequence: marriage to Lord Kenrick Layne. What kind of a husband will he make?

“Don’t let Mama worry you,” he said with that smile she had found so attractive a year ago. “She has been at me to marry these three years past. I expect she will be over the moon.”

She nodded slowly, and placed a hand on his chest, looking up at him. “What happens next?”

“I expect my brother and your uncle will fix it all up between them. We will only have to show up and make our vows.”

“Oh. Do you—?” At that moment he slid an arm around her waist and drew her closer, making her forget what she was going to say.

“That dress is damned distracting,” he murmured, lowering his head.

His blue eyes held her gaze and she instinctively rose on her toes to meet him as his mouth closed on hers. She shut her eyes, the better to savor the experience as that tingle of warmth she had long remembered flooded her body and she pressed closer against him. His body was lean and hard and seductively male. Her arms slid up around his neck as he almost lifted her off her feet, his lips moving over hers in a sensuous way that made her dizzy.