Her lips grazed over his brow, relishing the warm smoothness of his skin. She inhaled a deep draught of his spicy, smoky scent. Her well-honed sense of discretion warned her that she should not linger so close to Hadrian, but her body was slow to respond. The unexpected thrill of those sensations held her captive there, hovering over him.

Before caution had a chance to intervene, his kisses swept along the sensitive flesh just below her jaw, moving over her chin and finally upward to meet her approaching lips.

This kiss had a deliciously familiar feel, but it held a subtle thrill of novelty, too. She sensed a tender restraint on his part, which appealed not only to her physical desires but also to her wary heart.

Her heart had good reason to be wary, painful memories reminded her—all the more because she had allowed herself to feel something for her husband. But that could be more than enough to scorch her if she risked playing with fire.

Abruptly she drew back, ignoring the protest of her pleasure-deprived senses.

Hadrian caught her hand. ‘Don’t go.’

Bought: The Penniless Lady
Deborah Hale

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In the process of tracing her Canadian family to their origins in eighteenth-century Britain, DEBORAH HALE learned a great deal about the period and uncovered plenty of true-life inspiration for her historical romance novels! Deborah lives with her very own hero and their four fast-growing children in Nova Scotia—a province steeped in history and romance!

Deborah invites you to become better acquainted with her by visiting her personal website, www.deborahhale.com, or chatting with her in the Harlequin/Mills & Boon online communities.

Novels by Deborah Hale:

A GENTLEMAN OF SUBSTANCE

THE WEDDING WAGER

MY LORD PROTECTOR

CARPETBAGGER’S WIFE

THE ELUSIVE BRIDE

BORDER BRIDE

LADY LYTE’S LITTLE SECRET

THE BRIDE SHIP

A WINTER NIGHT’S TALE (part of A Regency Christmas)

MARRIED: THE VIRGIN WIDOW*

Look for the final story in Deborah Hale’s

Gentlemen of Fortune

WANTED: MAIL-ORDER MISTRESS

Coming September 2010

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated with love to my nephews, Ian, Andrew, Bradley, Ben, Dane and Sean, and my nieces, Melissa, Amanda and Kate. I wish you all the success and happiness in the world!

Author Note

Welcome to the second book of my new series, Gentlemen of Fortune, about the self-made men of Vindicara Trading Company! While I love reading and writing about dashing aristocrats, I’ve always had a fascination with the man who makes his own fortune and charts his own destiny. Such men make great romance heroes because they have large, definite objectives and intense motivation to succeed. They will fight for what they want and refuse to let anything or anyone get in the way of achieving their goals—even when it comes to love.

Ford Barrett, Hadrian Northmore and Simon Grimshaw all left Britain for various reasons, going halfway around the world to make their fortunes. Now, although they have money, power and success, they discover those things mean nothing without a special person to share them. As destiny throws three unique women into their paths, these driven men discover that achieving material success is easy compared to the challenge of forging a close, passionate relationship that will last a lifetime.

BOUGHT: THE PENNILESS LADY is the story of Hadrian Northmore, who overcomes terrible tragedy to make his mark in the world. Returning to England to launch his brother’s political career, he discovers that Julian was killed in a duel, leaving behind a young son. Desperate to claim this last remnant of his family and fulfil the mission that has driven him to succeed, Hadrian will do anything to gain custody of his nephew. Even if that means wedding Lady Artemis Dearing, whose family he holds responsible for his brother’s death. The reserved spinster reluctantly agrees to a marriage of convenience to provide for the child she loves so dearly. But Artemis soon discovers she and her nephew need more from Hadrian than his fortune. In return, they can give him something far more precious than worldly success—if only he will let them!

I hope you will enjoy BOUGHT: THE PENNILESS LADY and the stories of the other Gentlemen of Fortune!

Chapter One

Sussex, England—April 1824

The summons Lady Artemis Dearing dreaded had come at last.

Scooping up her small nephew, she pressed her lips to his silky hair, which was the same honey-golden shade as his late mother’s. If only she could absorb some of his innocent optimism and headstrong courage! She needed both, desperately.

Oblivious to his aunt’s distress, the child wriggled in her arms, chortling with the simple joy of being alive and loved. For an instant, his sunny spirits made Artemis forget her lingering grief and worries for the future.

With the tip of her little finger, she traced the shape of his mouth and his dimpled chin, which reminded her so keenly of her brother. It comforted her to know that part of her sister and brother lived on in this dear child. She must not fail him as she had failed them.

“Please, my lady,” said the housemaid who’d been sent to fetch Artemis, “the master wants you to come straightaway. He’ll only be in a worse humor if you keep him waiting.”

“Of course, Bessie.” The fragile bubble of happiness inside Artemis collapsed at the mention of Uncle Henry. Having waited fifty years with little hope of inheriting the Bramber title and estate, the new marquis seemed impatient to make up for lost time. “Can you watch Master Lee for me? I daren’t take him with me and if I leave him in his cot, he’ll only cry.”

Cry indeed. He would scream at the top of his sturdy little lungs. He was still too young to understand that such outbursts were unseemly. The last thing Artemis needed during her interview with her uncle was Lee’s piercing shrieks echoing through the decorous stillness of Bramberley.

“But, my lady…” Bessie backed away with a regretful grimace “…I’m that far behind with my work already. The master wants the State Apartments aired and dusted, floors scrubbed and windows washed. How am I to get that done on top of all my other duties when I’m being sent to run messages and pressed into service as a nursemaid?”

Artemis stifled a flicker of vexation. A few months ago, none of the servants would have dared refuse an order from the mistress of the house. Since her brother’s death, so much had changed at Bramberley…none of it for the better.

“Please, Bessie?” Artemis hated to stoop to bargaining, but she had no choice. “I will not be long, I promise. And once Lee is asleep tonight, I will come and help you scrub.”

“That wouldn’t be fitting, my lady!” The offer seemed to shock Bessie into agreement. “Very well, I’ll take him, but I reckon he’ll cry anyway, being away from you. You’ve got him well spoiled.”

Perhaps she did indulge the poor child, Artemis admitted privately, but how could she do otherwise for a tiny orphan everyone but she seemed to wish had never been born? How could she keep from clinging to the last person in the world she had left to love?

“If you take him down to the Green Gallery and let him walk from one chair to the next, he’ll never notice I’m gone.” Artemis gave the child a final kiss, then thrust him into Bessie’s arms. “Just keep a tight hold on his leading strings so he doesn’t fall.”

Brushing past Bessie, she rushed from the nursery. Lee was less likely to fuss if she left him quickly, while Uncle Henry was more apt to fuss if she kept him waiting.

Artemis arrived in the library out of breath with her heart racing. After taking a moment to compose herself, she knocked, then entered at her uncle’s bidding. As she crossed the threshold, she inhaled the dry, musty aroma of old parchment and leather. That smell revived heartening memories of her adored father.

Her two uncles sat in a pair of matched brocade armchairs. Artemis willed her knees not to tremble as she made a respectful curtsy. “You wished to see me, Uncle Henry?”

“I did, my dear.” The Marquis of Bramber pressed his long, thin fingers together and rested his chin upon them. “I have some very encouraging news to share. After the past year of bereavement and scandal, the Dearing family may soon put all that unpleasantness behind us.”

Wrenching as the events of the past year had been, Artemis did not want to put them behind her. That would be like turning her back on the memories of her brother and sister. Since she knew better than to contradict her uncle, she stood in composed silence, waiting for him to continue.

He did not keep her in suspense. “I have made Mrs. Bullworth an offer of marriage, which I hope she will accept.”

“Mrs. Bullworth?” Artemis could not keep her tone from betraying surprise and distaste.

She had heard plenty of gossip about Harriet Bullworth over the years. The former actress had been kept by a succession of gentlemen before marrying a wealthy banker three times her age. After his death left her a rich widow, Mrs. Bullworth had made no secret of her intention to buy her way into the highest peerage possible.

The prospect of such a brazen adventuress usurping the place that had belonged to a succession of the most refined ladies in the kingdom horrified Artemis.

“You heard correctly.” Uncle Henry’s iron-gray brows contracted in a severe frown that brooked no argument. “The lady is a most suitable choice for many reasons, not least of which is her comparative youth. The duty of propagating the Dearing line has fallen to me and I will not shirk it. A man of my years looking for a younger bride is in no position to pick and choose. Particularly when the size of his fortune does not match the luster of his pedigree.”

Duly chastened, Artemis lowered her gaze. “I understand, Uncle. Of course I want the Dearing line to continue.”

Her show of deference seemed to appease her uncle. “I knew I could count on your support, my dear. You have always been a paragon of loyalty and duty. If only your unfortunate brother and sister had followed your example, we might not have found ourselves at this pass.”

Any gratitude her uncle stirred by praising her loyalty, he forfeited by criticizing her brother and sister. “Perhaps if you had not forbidden Daphne to see Julian Northmore—”

Uncle Henry gave a dismissive flick of his fingers. “That is all water under the bridge.”

Some long-suppressed spirit of rebellion made Artemis itch to seize a pair of heavy bookends and hurl them at her uncle. Prudence restrained her. Now that Uncle Henry was head of the family, she could not afford to antagonize him—for her nephew’s sake as well as her own.

“You have been a model of familial duty,” Uncle Henry repeated. “Caring for your sister and her unfortunate child. I am certain the family can depend upon you to act for its greater good.”

Artemis sensed a lurking threat in her uncle’s praise. “What greater good might that be?”

“The one of which we just spoke, of course, and you endorsed.” Uncle Henry sounded impatient. “My finding a wife and begetting an heir.”

At the risk of annoying him further, Artemis asked, “What do your plans have to do with me?”

“You must appreciate Mrs. Bullworth’s position, my dear—the impropriety of her living at Bramberley under the same roof as an illegitimate child.”

Uncle Edward gave a fastidious shudder. “Not to mention the harm you have done your own reputation, keeping the child with you for so long.”

“I have always been perfectly scrupulous about my reputation, Uncle. I fail to see how caring for my dead sister’s child should damage it. As for Mrs. Bullworth’s propriety—” Artemis bit her tongue to keep from saying something that might make Uncle Henry lose his temper. “I sympathize, of course, but you cannot turn Daphne’s child out of Bramberley. He is barely a year old. He has nowhere else to go, any more than I do.”

“You will always have a home at Bramberley,” said Uncle Henry. “But the child must go. I should have insisted upon it sooner, but I feared being parted from her infant might be the death of your sister. Now that she is gone and the boy is weaned, surely some place can be found for him.”

The fear that had stalked Artemis since her sister’s death now pounced, threatening to rip her wounded heart to pieces. “Please, there must be some other way. Bramberley is such a vast place and so much of it unoccupied. Could I not move with Lee to a room in the north range? No one would ever have to know we were here.”

“I would know.” Uncle Henry looked thoroughly shocked at her suggestion. “I mean to give Mrs. Bullworth my word of honor that the child will not be living under her roof, and I refuse to be foresworn. You know as well as anyone, the word of a Dearing is sacred.”

“Surely our responsibility to an innocent child of our own blood is sacred, too? If he cannot stay at Bramberley, find us a little cottage on the estate or give me some money to take him farther away.” It would be a wrench to leave this sprawling old mansion crammed with rich history. But giving up the child, who was her only remaining link to her brother and sister, would be a hundred times harder.

“Out of the question.” Uncle Henry seemed surprised and vexed by her reluctance to bow to his wishes. “It would reflect badly on the family when we most urgently need to restore our good name.”

“I cannot hand him over to strangers,” Artemis protested. “He is such a little fellow and so attached to me since his mother died.”

“Attached? Nonsense!” The marquis turned up his nose. “A child that age is more vegetable than animal. As long as it is clothed, sheltered and given adequate nourishment, it will be reasonably content. By the time the boy is old enough to reason, he will have long forgotten you.”

If that were true, the thought did not comfort Artemis. Even if Lee forgot her, she would never forget him or cease to yearn for him. Perhaps because he was so small and helpless, so entirely dependent upon her, she’d permitted him to creep into her aloof, solitary heart.

Before she could devise an argument that might sway her uncle, he rose from his chair, signaling the end of their interview. “I have made my decision. The child must go. You have two weeks to find him a place you deem suitable. If he is not gone by then, I shall take matters into my own hands.”

Though a dozen desperate emotions raged in her heart, reticence and deference were so deep a part of her character Artemis could only murmur, “I understand, sir.”

“That’s a good girl,” said Lord Henry. “Be assured, as long as I am head of this family, you will always have a home at Bramberley.”

As long as she did not try to keep Daphne’s child with her. The marquis was too well-bred to put his threat in such bald terms, but Artemis knew that was what he meant. She had a fortnight to find Lee a good home and reconcile herself to parting from him. Or she would be cast out into a harsh world without friends or resources to scrape a living for herself and her nephew.

As she hurried away from the library, gusts of impotent rage buffeted her, while waves of despair threatened to sink her spirits.

Over and over, she cursed the name of the man who had killed her handsome, dashing brother and ruined her beautiful, vivacious sister. “Damn all Northmores!”

“Hadrian Northmore, what are you doing on this side of the world?” Ford Barrett, Lord Kingsfold, strode across the drawing room to greet his business partner. “Did Tuan Farquhar expel you from Singapore for trespassing on his authority again?”

In spite of Ford’s hearty tone, Hadrian sensed something amiss. Had he come too late to prevent the British government from handing Singapore over to the Dutch?

“Farquhar has been replaced as Resident.” Hadrian wrung his partner’s hand. “Before you ask, I had nothing to do with it. I’ve come to represent our fellow merchants in treaty negotiations with the Dutch. Whatever else the Foreign Office has to concede, they must not give up Singapore. The volume of trade has more than tripled since you left. Before long it will be more profitable than Penang.”

“You don’t need to persuade me.” Ford looked so relaxed and content, he appeared to have grown younger in the two years since Hadrian had last seen him.

Could that be on account of the fair-haired beauty who stood by the window with a young child in her arms, patiently waiting for an introduction? Hadrian had been surprised to receive word of Ford’s marriage—to his cousin’s widow, no less. He wished his partner better luck in marriage than he and Simon Grimshaw had found.

Before leaving Singapore, Hadrian had been charged with fetching back an English girl to be Simon’s mistress. Simon had suggested he find one for himself as well, but Hadrian shrank from the prospect. A mistress was too much like a wife to suit him.

“You will not need to persuade the government of Singapore’s commercial value, either,” Ford continued. “They signed the treaty last month. In exchange for Bencoolen and some other concessions, the Dutch have agreed not to oppose British occupation of Singapore. I wish you and Simon could have been here to celebrate the good news. Now that you are, I must call up a bottle of champagne so we can drink a toast.”

“Not champagne.” Hadrian grinned. “Arrack is the only proper drink for toasting the future of Singapore. But first, I must beg the honor of introductions.”

“To my charming ladies, of course.” Ford beckoned the woman to join them. “Forgive me, my dear. My partner’s unexpected arrival drove all civility from my mind. Allow me to present Mr. Hadrian Northmore, senior partner of Vindicara Company. Hadrian, this is my wife, Laura, and our daughter, Eleanor.”

“I am delighted to meet you at last, Mr. Northmore.” Sincere pleasure beamed like sunshine from the cloudless blue of Lady Kingsfold’s eyes. “I have heard so much about you from my husband. No one could be more welcome at Hawkesbourne.”

The little cherub in her arms stared gravely at Hadrian. The moment he met her gaze, she turned bashful, hiding her face in her mother’s shoulder.

“The pleasure is mine, ma’am.” Hadrian bowed. “I would wish my partner joy, but I see he has already found it.”

“Indeed I have.” Ford’s doting gaze rested on his wife and daughter with such obvious adoration, Hadrian scarcely recognized the grim, guarded man he’d once known. “After we raise our glasses to Singapore, we must drink to my good fortune.”

“If you will excuse us, gentlemen,” said Lady Kingsfold, “we shall leave you to your toasts. Eleanor must have her nap or she will be too cross for anyone but her papa to tolerate. I shall have Mr. Pryce fetch you a bottle of arrack. You must stay the night with us, Mr. Northmore. I hope my husband can persuade you to visit longer.”

“I accept your gracious invitation for tonight, ma’am.” Hadrian looked forward to becoming better acquainted with the woman who had worked such a transformation on his partner. “But tomorrow I must press on for London to see my brother. He is my other reason for returning to England. I mean to do whatever it takes to win him a seat in Parliament.”

It had been his mission for more than fifteen years—to put his brother in a position of power, from which he could work to reform the worst abuses of the mining industry. Abuses Hadrian had experienced firsthand. Abuses that had nearly wiped out their family.

All the warmth drained from Lady Kingsfold’s smile. She and Ford exchanged a furtive glance, which revived Hadrian’s earlier instinct that something must be wrong. As she fled the room without another word, her young daughter began to cry.

“What is it?” Hadrian demanded. “Is my timing off for that as well? Has there been an election already?”

Ford shook his head. “Not for another year or two. It’s just…Have a seat, won’t you? Pryce should be along soon with the arrack.”

Hadrian had never seen his partner so shaken. It did not bode well. “Damn the arrack and damn the chair! Whatever you have to tell me, spit it out, man. Julian’s landed himself in trouble, hasn’t he? Has some little fortune hunter got her claws into him? I told you to warn him about women of that sort.”

“I did!” cried Ford. “It isn’t that. Damn it, Hadrian, I thought the news would have reached you. Your brother is…dead.”

“That can’t be!” Hadrian staggered back. “Julian is not yet five-and-twenty and he’s scarcely had a day’s illness in all that time.”

He and his brother came from hardy stock, bred in the harsh beauty of the Durham dales, tested in the dark depths of the northern coal mines. It took a lot to kill a Northmore.

“He didn’t die of an illness.” Ford inhaled a deep breath that seemed to suck all the air from the large room. “He was killed in a duel over a year ago. If it is any consolation, the end came quickly. His opponent was not so fortunate.”

“A duel! Who with? Over what?” Dueling was the folly of gentlemen who cherished their highborn honor. Hadrian had worked and planned to launch his brother into the highest tier of English society. But not for this.

Had the young fool forfeited his life over some stupid gambling debt or an insult spoken in the heat of drunken anger? Hadrian cursed himself for not taking the lad in hand sooner. But how could he? He’d been halfway around the world, making the fortune that would have put Julian in Parliament to be a voice for those who had none.

Now Hadrian’s fortune could have been dust for all it mattered. Because Julian was dead, his promising young life snuffed out like the rest of their family.

“His opponent was my neighbor, the Marquis of Bramber,” replied Ford. “He was wounded in the duel and died a few weeks later in great suffering. Their dispute was over a young lady.”

“I might have known. Was the little minx playing them off against one another?” He’d make her regret it if she had.

“Nothing like that!” Ford shook his head vigorously. “The lady was Lord Bramber’s sister. She is dead now, too, poor creature.”

“Poor creature?” Deprived of its rightful targets, Hadrian’s anger fixed on his partner instead. “You sound sorrier for your fine neighbors than you do for my brother!”

“I pity everyone involved,” Ford protested. “It was a terrible tragedy that never should have come to that.”

“Then why did you not stop it?” cried Hadrian. “If you could not talk sense into this neighbor of yours, you should have been able to warn Julian.”

“I tried to intervene when it began.” Ford sounded defensive. “But I was told to mind my own business. When it all came to a head, Laura and I were abroad. I’d meant to return to Singapore, but…my plans changed. I had a great deal going on in my own life just then.”

“Too much to care what happened to my brother?” Hadrian grabbed Ford by the arm. “Did you forget promising me you’d look out for him? Or would that have interfered too much with your grand new life as lord of the manor?”

“I hope you know me better than that.” Ford wrenched his arm free. “I tried to talk to your brother, but he did not want my advice any more than he wanted to stand for Parliament. He only wanted your money to pay off the debts he’d incurred from idle living.”

“That is a lie!” Hadrian stabbed his forefinger into his partner’s chest, hoping to provoke a fight.

Landing a few good blows might vent the dangerous head of rage building inside him. And if Ford struck him hard enough, it might knock out the nagging fear that he was somehow to blame for his brother’s death.

But Ford refused to be goaded, damn him! “It’s the truth. Julian was a rash young fellow used to getting his own way. He acted improperly, but he did not deserve to die for it. Looking back, of course I wish I’d done more. But I never thought it would go so far.”

“You let me down, after all I did for you.” Turning away from his partner, Hadrian headed for the door before he said or did something he would regret even more. “Perhaps folk like you never feel a sense of obligation to folk like me.”

As he strode away, the volatile brew of shock, desperation and fury within him threatened to collapse, leaving him as empty and dead inside as his brother. As dead as the Northmore family, of which he was now the last surviving member.

“Before you storm out of here,” Ford called after him, “don’t you want to know what became of the child?”

“Child?” That word stopped Hadrian in his tracks. It stirred the ashes in his heart like a breath of air, coaxing the dying embers to glow again. “What child?”

Chapter Two

“Dearest child!” Artemis lifted her nephew to her shoulder, inhaling his sweet baby scent as if it were the only air worth breathing. “I will do anything rather than give you up!”

They were heading back to Bramberley on a mild spring day, after visiting one of the tenant farms where Uncle Henry wanted her to place her nephew. After meeting the childless couple and judging their manner toward Lee, Artemis was determined not to let them have him.

“I could tell you didn’t like them,” she crooned. “The woman so coarse and her husband so gruff. It’s not a child they want, but a future servant. The impertinence of that woman, saying she’d soon cure you of being so spoilt. I shudder to think what her cure might be. It made me so angry, I wanted to give a most uncivil answer.”

She hadn’t, of course—probably couldn’t if she tried. All her life she’d been taught to avoid strong emotion in favor of well-bred decorum and reserve. Even with those she loved most dearly, she’d never been able to express her true feelings. It grieved her to think her brother and sister might have gone to their graves, never knowing how much she’d loved them.

Somehow it was easier with her nephew. Perhaps because he was so tiny and helpless, she’d been able to break through her deeply ingrained reserve and demonstrate her affection for him. Now her fear of losing him made Artemis clutch the child too tightly. He began to struggle against her embrace, demanding to be let down.

“Very well, you can walk for a while.” She blew a rude, wet kiss on each of Lee’s plump cheeks to make him laugh, then she set him on his sturdy little feet.

He crowed with delight at getting his own way. His lively gray eyes sparkled with quicksilver curiosity.

As he staggered forward over the high weald heath, Artemis clutched the leading strings of his frock to help keep him upright. “You’re happy to be away from Bramberley, aren’t you? Out here, you can explore and make as much noise as you like.”

A foretaste of homesickness gripped her when she contemplated leaving the crumbling Tudor mansion that had been her beloved home for more than a quarter of a century. Her only comfort was the thought that more modest quarters might be better suited to rearing a busy little boy. If only she could secure such a place and find the means to pay for it.

Preoccupied with her worries and watching that her nephew did not wander into a patch of nettles, Artemis failed to notice they were not alone, until a pair of dark boots and trousers appeared in view. With a spirited shriek, Lee pelted toward them, flinging his stout little arms around one lean leg.

“I beg your pardon, sir!” Artemis dived to extract the gentleman from her nephew’s grip. “I did not notice you standing there or I would have held him back.”

A vague sense of annoyance bristled within her. Why did this man not have the courtesy to announce himself, rather than silently observing them while she was unaware of his presence? Really, it was tantamount to spying! She would pick up her nephew and make as dignified an escape as possible under the circumstances.

Lee had other ideas. He clung to the stranger’s leg with stubborn determination, protesting his aunt’s efforts to dislodge him with loud howls. After several unsuccessful attempts, Artemis had no choice but to pry his small fingers from the gentleman’s trousers.

If there was a more humiliating position in which a lady might find herself with a strange man, Artemis did not want to imagine it! Her head was directly level with the lap of his trousers, which she discovered to her consternation, when she happened to glance that way. As she struggled to detach Lee’s stubborn grip, her fingertips frequently grazed the stranger’s firm, muscular thigh. By the time she managed to pull her wailing nephew away, her breath was racing and her face ablaze.

She looked up into the stranger’s face at last, expecting an expression of shock, embarrassment or, if she was very fortunate, amusement. Instead a pair of cold, granitegray eyes fixed upon Lee with dangerous intensity.

“He’s a strong-willed lad.” The stranger’s deep, masterful voice carried easily over the child’s howls of frustration.

Artemis could not tell whether his words were meant as praise or censure. But the northern cadence of his speech immediately put her on guard. In spite of his welltailored clothes and air of authority, this was no gentleman. The scoundrel who’d destroyed her family had spoken like that.

Bouncing Lee in her arms to quiet him, Artemis fixed the stranger with a haughty glare. “He is a good boy. Your sudden appearance must have dismayed him. May I ask what business leads you to trespass on Bramberley land?”

The stranger seemed in no hurry to enlighten her. “Surely if I’d frightened the child, Lady Artemis, he would have run away instead of sticking to my leg like a plaster. If you’d left him where he was, I reckon he’d be better pleased.”

Her antagonism toward the man intensified, even as her fingertips tingled from their recent contact with his leg. Sweeping a critical gaze over him, Artemis found little to approve. He was bigger than a gentleman ought to be—tall and broad-shouldered with a thrusting chest and an intimidating presence. His hawk nose and the sharp arch of his dark brows gave him a predatory air.

That must be what made it so difficult to catch her breath. That, and the veiled threat of him calling her by name.

“Do you presume an acquaintance with me, sir?” she demanded. “You must be mistaken. I have never seen you before in my life.”

She was perfectly certain of that. She would have remembered his devilish looks more clearly than those of a handsomer man. And yet, there was something vexingly familiar about this stranger.

“It is true we have never met before,” he replied. “But I have heard of you as you may have of me. My name is Hadrian Northmore and that boy is my nephew.”

The name hit Artemis like a bolt of lightning. Hadrian Northmore—brother of the man who had destroyed her family. No wonder she’d loathed him on sight!

“I have heard of you, Mr. Northmore.” She tilted her chin, so she could look down her nose at him. “Your vulgar fortune was much bandied about to excuse your late brother’s disreputable conduct.”

“You think my fortune vulgar, do you?” His fierce visage darkened like a thunderhead. “I suppose it is tainted by the sweat of my labor, unlike an elegant fortune gained without effort from tenant rents, investment or inheritance. Others may have sweat, bled or even died to earn that money in the beginning, but distance cleanses it, so as not to stain the delicate hands of ladies and gentlemen.”

The man exuded contempt for Artemis, her family and her entire class. Though she considered it beneath her dignity to respond to such ill-bred insolence, she could not let it pass unanswered.

“You are putting words in my mouth, sir, and I will not stand for that. A fortune like yours is not vulgar on account of how it was earned, but how it is spent. People like you think everything in life can be bought and sold. You do not understand there are things upon which one cannot put a price. Honor is not for sale. Love cannot be hired or auctioned to the highest bidder. True breeding cannot be purchased.”

His lip curled in a sneer of salty scorn. “You cannot have seen much of the world if you believe such nonsense. The law courts are full of men who would sell their honor at a bargain price. As for ladies and love, the marriage market did not get its name for nothing.”

Those words struck Artemis like a backhanded blow. She knew many people viewed marriage as a transaction to secure material comfort or social advancement. Bad enough when both parties entered into such a union with their eyes open to the cold calculation of it all, but when an inexperienced girl was flattered by false attention into an imprudent attachment…

That had almost happened to her. Thank heaven she’d heeded the call of duty in time to save herself from worse hurt. Her impulsive, wayward little sister had not been so fortunate.

The thought of Daphne roused Artemis from her fierce concentration upon Hadrian Northmore. She’d been so preoccupied with him, she had almost forgotten her sister’s child. The dear little fellow might have fallen from her arms for all the heed she’d paid him.

But when she forced her attention back to Lee, she realized his cries had subsided. He’d nestled against her shoulder and fallen asleep. She must not let Hadrian Northmore make her neglect her duty to the child a moment longer.

“I bow to your superior knowledge of all things mercenary, sir. Now you must excuse us. My nephew needs his rest.” With as much poise as she could muster while carrying a sleeping child who weighed well over a stone, Artemis strode away from Hadrian Northmore. She hoped never to set eyes on the man again.

But his voice pursued her. “Our nephew, don’t you mean, Lady Artemis?”

That shocking, threatening truth made her knees buckle. She stumbled over a tussock of hardy golden gorse.

As Artemis struggled to catch her balance without dropping her nephew, Mr. Northmore lunged toward her. His powerful arms encircled her and the child, gathering them to his broad chest. In a desperate effort to clear her head, she drew a deep breath, only to fill her nostrils with his scent—an unsettling fusion of smoke, spice and sheer masculine vitality. It did nothing to steady her. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“You should be more careful.” His gruff mutter sent a surge of warm breath ruffling her hair. “I do not want any harm coming to this young lad. Fancy, all our bickering and jostling hasn’t woken him. He must have the Northmore gift for being able to sleep through anything.”

Those words forced Artemis to rally the balance and composure Hadrian Northmore had shaken so badly. Planting her feet firmly beneath her, she shrank from him. “I will thank you to release me at once and refrain from presuming to tell me how to tend my nephew.”

Mr. Northmore started when she spoke, as if he had not realized how long and how tightly he’d been holding her.

“Would you rather I’d let you fall on your face?” he growled as he let her go and backed away.

All her life, Artemis had found it disagreeable when strangers came too close to her. She’d often wished she could erect a wall to keep a safe, private space around herself. As she grew older, she’d discovered that a cool gaze and an air of aloofness held most strangers at bay. Whenever someone did trespass, restoring her personal boundaries afterward always brought a rush of intense relief.

What made this time so different? Perhaps Hadrian Northmore’s overpowering presence was too potent to be easily dispelled. His dangerous yet intriguing scent clung to her. Every part of her where he had touched smoldered with a vexing heat.

Those bewildering sensations sharpened her tone. “I would rather you had never come here in the first place!”

It was the rudest thing Artemis had said to anyone in her whole life. Yet she could not deny the savage thrill of striking a verbal blow against the man whose brother had destroyed her family.

Before he could reply in kind, she added. “Since you neglected to answer my question, I must ask again, what brings you to Bramberley?”

Was it possible he’d come to beg her pardon for what his reckless young rogue of a brother had done? To make some token gesture of restitution in the only medium he understood—hard cash? Though no amount of money could heal her grief or soften her resentment, Artemis was prepared to accept it for Lee’s sake.

That tantalizing hope wrought a shift in her perception of Hadrian Northmore. His towering height no longer seemed so threatening. His dark, brooding features looked rather attractive.

But when he answered her question, his reply ripped the breath from her lungs and set every nerve in her body on fire. “I want the child.”

Hadrian had not realized how desperately he wanted custody of his nephew until the lad staggered toward him.

The child did not look much like a Northmore with his fair coloring, plump cheeks and dimpled chin. But there was an appealing sturdiness about him. His boldness, energy and determination all proclaimed their kinship.

Perhaps Julian’s son had sensed it, too—pelting toward his uncle with the instinct of a fledgling returning to its nest, latching on to his leg with amazing strength for such a small creature. And how he’d resisted when his aunt tried to pull him away—stubbornly clinging to what he wanted, hanging on against overwhelming opposition! Once the battle was lost, he’d protested the injustice at the top of his lungs. But when that did no good, he hadn’t wasted energy whimpering or sulking. Instead he’d put the setback behind him and promptly gone to sleep, gathering strength for his next challenge.

Hadrian was determined to put up an equally resolute fight to claim his nephew. And he would not lose, for he possessed the strength and means to overcome the chief obstacle keeping them apart—Lady Artemis Dearing.

For all her slender, alluring delicacy, Hadrian did not underestimate his opponent. There was a glint of regal valor in her striking blue-violet eyes and a ring of icy antagonism in her dulcet voice. Though her haughty disdain stung, he could not stifle a grudging flicker of admiration for anyone with enough spirit to stand up to him.

After an instant of dazed silence, Lady Artemis fixed him with a glacial glare. “You may want my nephew all you like, Mr. Northmore. But you will never get your hands on him, of that I can assure you. I suggest you spare us both any further unpleasantness by going back to wherever you came from and leaving me to raise him in peace.”

With a contemptuous arch of her dark brows, the lady turned and walked away. This time she took care not to tilt her chin so high and risk tripping over the uneven ground. No doubt she wished to avoid repeating the indignity of being caught in the arms of a man she’d defied and insulted.

Hadrian would not have minded swooping to her rescue again, if necessary. He’d been unprepared for the rush of satisfaction that had surged through him when he’d clutched her and the child tight against his chest, saving them from harm. But if Lady Artemis thought she could dismiss him like one of her servants, she was very much mistaken.

He strode after her. “I can assure you, I have no intention of being so easily discouraged. I am accustomed to getting what I want and it will take more than a little unpleasantness to deter me.”

The lady stiffened when she realized he was following her, but she did not stop or glance his way. “Perhaps this is the first time you have hankered after something your money cannot buy, sir. My nephew is not a commodity for purchase. I would not consider parting with him for any sum you could pay.”

“In my experience, people who claim they cannot be bought are only trying to drive up their price.” Hadrian kept a sharp watch for her reaction.

It was all part of the bargaining process—bid, refusal, counteroffer, bluff and call. Success often depended upon the ability to predict an opponent’s next move or gauge his weakness. But Lady Artemis proved difficult to decipher. Her blatant contempt for him was so intense it masked any subtler reactions. It did not help that Hadrian found himself distracted whenever his gaze lingered upon her.

Searching her eyes for a hint of fear, he was lured to plunge into their bewitching depths. When he studied her lips for a tremor of uncertainty, he caught himself wondering if they had ever been properly kissed.

The lady shook him out of such wayward thoughts with a derisive sniff. “Clearly we move in very different circles. Even if I were so shamefully degraded as to consider peddling my own flesh and blood, you would be the last person to whom I would sell him.”

“You forget,” Hadrian snapped, “the boy is my flesh and blood, too. If we were in the Orient, their system of justice might compel you to give him to me as compensation for the murder of my brother.”

His words made Lady Artemis walk faster. “I count myself fortunate to live in a civilized society where an innocent child would never be so barbarously consigned.”

Was a system of justice based on restitution more barbarous than one that would hang a starving child for stealing food?

Before Hadrian could voice that indignant question, Lady Artemis pressed on, her speech broken by frequent gasps for breath. “Even if such ‘eye for an eye’ sanctions were applied in England, you would surely be the one to owe me compensation. My brother may have caused the death of yours, but he put both my brother and sister in their graves, as well as dragging our family through the mud.”

“The duel was your brother’s idea,” Hadrian protested. “I am certain if it had been left up to Julian, no one need have come to harm.”

Though he knew antagonizing Lady Artemis would only make it harder to gain custody of his nephew, Hadrian could not help himself. She’d had more than a year to come to terms with this sordid tragedy and carry on with her life. As far as his heart was concerned, his brother’s death might have happened only yesterday. With one vital difference…

It was far too late to hold a funeral, don mourning garb or perform any of the usual rituals that helped the bereaved make some sense of death’s profound mystery. Only by confronting Lady Artemis Dearing, in place of her brother and sister, could he purge some of the poisonous feelings that possessed him.

“What choice did my brother have?” She shifted her grip on the sleeping child. “He had to defend my sister’s honor against the man who had callously seduced her and got her with child out of wedlock.”

As they crested a bit of rising ground, the great house appeared like a stately dowager with all its lofty spires and gables. Hadrian knew better than to suppose he could follow Lady Artemis through the imposing gatehouse. What he had left to say, he must say quickly.

“Was that precious honor worth the lives of two men in their prime? Where I come from, a girl’s father or brother would give the fellow a sound thrashing, then haul the pair of them in front of a parson. By the time the babe was born, nobody would remember or care when it was begot.”

Something caused a hitch in the lady’s regal stride. Was she growing tired? Or had his barb found its mark?

“No doubt things are a great deal simpler where you come from. If families like mine took such a lax attitude to this sort of disgrace, it would be an open invitation for unscrupulous rogues to seduce their way into our ranks. No unwed lady of quality would be safe from their odious attentions.”

This time it was Hadrian’s step that faltered. “Are you saying my brother bedded your sister against her will?”

“Not strictly against her will, perhaps, but certainly against her discretion and the wishes of her family.” Her outraged tone warned Hadrian she would never permit wanton passion to lure her from the narrow path of propriety.

“You said Julian put your sister in her grave. Did she die in childbed, then?” Hadrian’s throat tightened. “If you hold him responsible for that, many a loving husband must bear the blame for his wife’s death.”

“My sister survived the birth, though it was difficult and certainly weakened her.” Lady Artemis kept her eyes fixed upon the house, clearly eager to reach the sanctuary of its imposing walls. “She died eight months later, her spirit broken by the consciousness of how her innocent folly had brought shame upon our family and led to our brother’s death.”

Hadrian stifled a troublesome spark of sympathy for the dead girl. “So you admit it was her fault and not my brother’s.”

Lady Artemis cast him a sidelong glance of scathing contempt. “If you had any finer feelings, you might understand that people may bear an undeserved sense of responsibility, even when they are not to blame.”

The last thing Hadrian expected was for her offensive words to bring him an unaccountable rush of relief. No doubt it was the last thing she intended. “If my brother’s child is such a scandalous stain on your family’s reputation, I cannot understand why you refuse to give him up.”

Lady Artemis practically ran the last few steps to the gatehouse. Once beneath its stone archway, she turned to skewer Hadrian with a challenging glare. “He is all I have left, Mr. Northmore. I cannot expect you to understand how that feels. I will not give him to you to ruin his character with too much money and too little attention.”

Her accusation knocked the wind out of Hadrian. She was completely wrong about him not knowing the devastation of such a loss.

Perhaps sensing her advantage, Lady Artemis pressed on. “For his sake, go away and leave us in peace.”

Without waiting for an answer, she stalked off into the courtyard. The child stirred then and opened his eyes. Spotting Hadrian, he reached a small hand over his aunt’s shoulder toward his uncle.

“I am not going anywhere!” Hadrian bellowed after Lady Artemis. “I will do whatever it takes to get my nephew!”

Chapter Three

“Hush, dearest!” Half an hour after her confrontation with Mr. Northmore, Artemis had still not succeeded in quieting her nephew.

She’d tried feeding him, changing his linen, bouncing him in her aching arms until she feared they would be wrenched out of their sockets. Nothing had worked. After a year of caring for Lee day and night, Artemis recognized the difference between a hungry cry, a weary cry or an injured cry. This was one she had not heard often—a wail of bloody-minded vexation.

“Hush!” she begged him again, practically driven to tears herself. “This won’t endear you to Uncle Henry. He may toss us both out tonight and have done with it.”

She would give anything for an hour’s peace to review her limited options and decide what to do next. The sudden appearance of Hadrian Northmore had made an already desperate situation far worse. Despite her brave boast about never letting him have Lee, Artemis feared she might soon have no choice.

Even if she’d been willing to entrust Lee to one of Bramberley’s tenants, Mr. Northmore could easily bribe such people to give him the child. If she defied Uncle Henry’s orders and got them expelled from Bramberley, she had no money to provide for her nephew. Even if she could find work as a governess or companion to some ailing dowager, she would never be permitted to keep a child with her. Which would place her right back where she’d started.

Heaving a dispirited sigh, Artemis sank onto the nearest chair and took her nephew’s weight onto her knees. For a moment his cries quieted. Then he inhaled several deep, wet breaths and began to howl again.

“You must get your temper from the Northmores.” Artemis struggled to wipe his dribbling nose with her handkerchief. “Your eyes, too. They are the very same shade of gray as his.”

That should have not come as a surprise, but somehow it did—this intimate connection between the child she loved and the man she loathed. Was it possible Lee sensed it, too?

“You would go with him in a trice, wouldn’t you, ungrateful little creature? What would become of you then?” What would become of him? She’d been so preoccupied with venting months of pent-up frustration upon Hadrian Northmore, she had never bothered to enquire about his plans for the boy.

Now that she’d purged some of those dangerously intense feelings, Artemis found herself able to view the situation more objectively. Was it possible her interests and Mr. Northmore’s might not run altogether contrary? After all, they had one important thing in common—they both wanted Lee when no one else seemed to.

“I vowed I would do anything to keep you.” Artemis cuddled the crying child close and drizzled kisses over his tear-streaked little face. “And Mr. Northmore threatened to do anything to get you. Perhaps we need to find out just how far each of us is willing to go.”

Lee seemed to endorse her idea. Or perhaps he was only responding to her kisses and calmer tone of voice. His cries lapsed into a series of sniffling hiccoughs. Artemis rubbed his back while she talked through her plans.

“I cannot let Mr. Northmore know how desperate our situation is. I am certain he is the kind of man who would not scruple to exploit an adversary’s weakness. So I must act quickly, before he discovers mine.”

Summoned to the inn’s back parlor, Hadrian paused on the threshold. “Why, Lady Artemis, this is a surprise.”

Not only was he astonished that she’d sought him out after their hostile exchange the day before, she scarcely looked like the same woman he’d happened upon while scouting out Bramberley. If it had not been for her haughty manner and formal way of speaking, he might have mistaken her for a nursemaid taking his nephew for an outing in the fresh spring air.

Today she looked every inch the daughter of a marquis, from the toes of her kid slippers to the crown of her chip hat. A footman in full livery lurked beside the door. This was what Hadrian had pictured when Ford first mentioned Lady Artemis Dearing.

She acknowledged his greeting with a cool half smile. “Perhaps now you will understand how I felt when you appeared out of the blue yesterday, Mr. Northmore. After we parted, I had an opportunity to reflect upon our conversation and repent my incivility. I have come to apologize for any offense I may have given.”

Her speech was a model of polished courtesy, expressing all the proper sentiments. Hadrian did not believe a word of it. Given a choice, he would far rather receive pithy insults from the lady’s pretty lips than insincere apologies.

What had brought her here, then, if not genuine regret for the way she’d abused him yesterday? Was she hoping to scare him off with a show of grandeur?

“That is most gracious of you.” Determined to demonstrate he could play her game, Hadrian reached for her slender, gloved hand and lifted it to his lips. “I hope you will disregard anything I may have said in the haste and heat of temper.”

Speaking of heat, he could not forget the unwelcome spark that had crackled through him when her fingers brushed against his leg. Or when he’d caught her and his nephew in his arms. An echo of it kindled in his lips as he inhaled a faint whiff of lavender from her glove.

“Of course.” Her answer sounded a trifle breathless.

Hadrian glanced up to see a flattering hint of color blossom in her cheeks.

Her hand jerked back as if she feared he might bite off one of her fingers. “I was hoping we could discuss the matter you raised yesterday. This time without haste or temper, but calmly as civilized adults.”

Did she doubt him capable of calm discussion and civilized conduct? Though he’d made a show of accepting her apology, Hadrian resented the insults Lady Artemis had hurled at him during their first encounter. And he would never forgive her family for bringing about his brother’s death.

“I would welcome the opportunity.” Her sudden willingness to negotiate made him wonder if her position was as strong as he’d feared. “Where shall we talk?”

“Why not here?” Lady Artemis glanced around the rustic room with a massive brick hearth at one end. “I took the liberty of speaking with the innkeeper. He assured me we would not be disturbed.”

Anticipating Hadrian’s agreement, she seated herself on a sturdy armchair upholstered with horsehair.

“Very well.” Hadrian sank onto a matching chair opposite her. “By the matter, I presume you mean my intention to seek custody of my nephew.”

“Just so.” Lady Artemis hesitated, as if trying to decide how to begin. “I am curious to learn more about your plans for Lee and to discover why you want him so badly. Have you no children of your own?”

The unexpected question made Hadrian flinch. He hated being reminded of that tiny grave in the Company cemetery at Madras. “I am not married, nor do I intend to be.”

Once had been enough to convince him marriage and a family were not his destiny.

“Then who would care for Lee, Mr. Northmore? I understand you have been very successful in the East Indies trade. Would you retire from it and settle permanently in England, as Lord Kingsfold has done?”

Hadrian shook his head vigorously. “I have fared well in the Indies, especially since moving my business to Singapore, but most of my fortune is invested in my company. I must return after Christmas when the East Indies fleet sails.”

Before he could answer her other question, Lady Artemis cried, “You would drag a small child half a world away from everyone and everything he has ever known?”

“Of course not!” Did she think he was mad? “The tropical climate is a scourge on European children. My partner’s young daughter seems to thrive on it, but she is an exception. My friend Raffles lost three of his four children to disease in half a year.”

He did not speak of his own bereavement. That was none of this proud lady’s business. “I would find someone trustworthy to care for the child here in England and see that he is given every advantage money can buy.”

Lady Artemis edged forward in her chair. Was she going to remind him what she’d said yesterday about all the things his money could not buy?

“I am vastly relieved to hear you do not intend to uproot Lee and take him off to such an unhealthy place.” For the first time since they’d met, she seemed to regard Hadrian with approval. “But surely you must understand why I cannot give up my sister’s son, a child I have cared for since he was born, to be brought up by strangers?”

“Yes…well…” Put like that, his plans for the lad did sound rather unfeeling.

Hadrian reminded himself there was a world of difference between his idea of caring for a child and that of people like the Dearings. His nephew would not pine for a woman who stopped by his nursery now and then or took him for an occasional stroll.

But there was a note of urgency in the lady’s tone he could not deny. “No caretakers, however well paid, could have the same concern for Lee’s welfare as his blood relatives. He is such a little fellow and you will be so far away. How would you know if such people were providing him with proper care?”

“I have eight months to find someone suitable. Surely by then…” Hadrian refused to admit how much her suggestions unsettled him. As did the reminder of his greatest weakness—time. Any legal measures he might take to gain custody of his nephew would not be swiftly resolved. Especially against a family as well connected as the Dearings. To keep the child, Lady Artemis had only to delay until Hadrian was obliged to return to Singapore.

And he had as good as told her so.

If the lady realized it, she did not gloat over the fact. “Perhaps our aims are closer than they might first appear, Mr. Northmore. I want to raise Lee to be a gentleman of honor, as I promised his mother. You have the admirable intention of providing him with every material advantage. Rather than fight over him like those two women in the story of King Solomon, could we not cooperate to give our nephew the best possible upbringing?”

The suggestion sounded reasonable enough. And Lady Artemis looked so appealing with her subtle, twilight beauty. It made Hadrian want to agree, if only to coax a smile from her. Then he recalled some of the insults she‘d hurled at him the day before. He also recalled how his brother had been killed for presuming to make love to her sister.

“Cooperate in what way?” He peered into the blue-violet depths of her eyes, striving to fathom her true motives.

“Is it not obvious? If you take custody of Lee, you will need someone to supervise his upbringing when you return to the Orient. I wish to continue caring for him, but I do not find Bramberley well suited to raising a high-spirited young child. Surely the most reasonable course…”

A clutch of hot coals began to smolder in the pit of Hadrian’s belly. “You mean you would be willing to take my vulgar money to live in high style in your own establishment?”

Her eyes flashed with outrage, but she maintained her facade of courtesy. “That accusation is most unworthy of you, sir. However great your fortune, you could not possibly provide me with accommodations to equal Bramberley. But a grand house is not necessarily the best place to bring up a child. I had something more modest in mind.”

She had a valid point, much as it vexed Hadrian to admit. Anyone else he hired to care for his nephew might be tempted to enrich themselves at the child’s expense. Artemis Dearing’s wealth set her above mercenary considerations. Was it possible his suspicions about her were unfounded?

“I beg your pardon, ma’am. I cannot help but wonder why you would be willing to do this for me. Especially considering your attitude toward my brother. Yesterday you said I was the last person in the world to whom you would give your nephew. What has changed your mind?”

Hadrian Northmore was a dangerous man. Artemis had sensed it from the moment she’d first glimpsed him on the heath near Bramberley. Now, as she scrambled to contrive an excuse he might believe, she was more certain than ever.

Though it sickened her to contemplate taking his money to care for her nephew, she reminded herself it was for Lee’s sake. If his uncle agreed to her proposal, they would never have to be parted and Lee could have all the advantages she would never be able to provide for him otherwise. Surely his mother would have approved, even if it cost Artemis her pride?

“What changed my mind? Why, you did, sir, by explaining your plans just now, so that I could see your gaining Lee did not have to mean I must lose him. Also, much as it pains me to admit, my sister did care for your brother. I do not believe she would want me to keep their son from you.”

“If I agreed to this arrangement, would you permit the lad to bear my family name?” The severe set of Mr. Northmore’s wide mouth warned Artemis this mattered a great deal to him.

Her tongue burned with the urge to refuse his presumptuous demand. Who were the Northmores, after all? Nothing but mushrooms—so called because they sprang up fast out of the dung. Her family had been in the first rank of British society for centuries. The third Marquis of Bramber had borne the canopy over King Charles I at his coronation. His grandson, Viscount Singlecross, had helped put down Monmouth’s Rebellion. Lady Lettice Dearing had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Anne.

Nothing but the thought of Lee’s stout little arms around her neck and the sweet gurgle of his laughter could have compelled Artemis to reply, “If you insist.”

“I do.” Mr. Northmore’s harsh tone made those two words sound like a threat.

Artemis refused to be intimidated. “Though I do not understand why it matters.”

His powerful hands tightened around the arms of his chair. “It matters because my nephew is the last of our line. I am determined to rescue my family from the brink of extinction and raise it to a place of prominence, from which it will never be threatened in future.”

That proved precisely what she had suspected—the man was nothing but a power-hungry social climber. Artemis strove to keep her lip from curling.

“Prosperity is no guarantee of survival, sir. Many a noble house has died out for lack of heirs.” The Dearings might soon be among them, thanks to this man’s brother.

“They haven’t enough good red blood.” Hadrian Northmore did not bother to hide his contempt. “Whatever our other faults, my family does not shrink from breeding.”

The man had already made her blush once, when he’d kissed her hand in the manner of a true gentleman. Now he did it again with a most ungentlemanly remark. Artemis had good reason to know the Northmores did not shrink from breeding—even outside the bounds of matrimony.

“Are we agreed, then?” Artemis hurried on. “You will provide for all Lee’s material needs, while I attend to his upbringing?”

“Not so fast, if you please.” Hadrian Northmore leaned back in his chair, resting his strong, jutting chin against his raised fist. “I foresee some difficulties with this proposed arrangement of yours.”

“Such as…?”

His narrowed eyes ranged over her in a way that made Artemis squirm. “An unwed lady living on her own—wouldn’t be proper, would it? The lad already has one strike against him, being born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

“I always conduct myself with the utmost propriety, sir. I resent your suggestion that I would ever do otherwise, particularly with an impressionable young child in my care.”

If it were possible for her to stray from the path of strict decorum, a man like Hadrian Northmore might tempt her. That unwelcome thought shook Artemis to the solitary, sensible core of her being.

“I am not saying you would do anything improper.” His tone implied that he did not think her capable of it. “I am only saying it might appear so. Appearances matter to the kind of people I want the boy associating with once he’s older.”

It galled Artemis to admit the truth of that. Members of the ton could get away with the most despicable wrongdoing, provided they were discreet. Yet a perfectly harmless incident could bring down the full weight of society’s censure, simply because it had the appearance of impropriety. If anyone had seen her out on the heath yesterday in Hadrian Northmore’s arms, it could have ruined her reputation. If he were a gentleman, honor would have dictated he make her an offer of marriage.

That improbable notion sent her pulse into a skittish dance, which Artemis struggled to ignore. “I am certain I could find a respectable chaperon, if you felt it was necessary. Have you any other objections?”

Mr. Northmore nodded. “Such a handsome lady is bound to attract suitors, especially if she is in control of her young ward’s fortune. Where would it leave the lad and me if you decided to marry? I will not have some man I’ve never met in a position of influence over my nephew.”

Did he expect her to be flattered that he’d called her handsome? Hard as Artemis tried to dismiss the compliment, she could not. He’d tossed it off in such a blunt, careless way, as he might have declared the sky was blue or the grass green. For the third time in less than an hour, Artemis felt the blood rise in her cheeks.

“I am nine-and-twenty years old,” she replied, as much to remind herself as to inform him. “I have long been on the shelf. Even if some other gentleman were shortsighted enough to fancy me handsome, marriage holds no attraction for me. My nephew…our nephew is the only gentleman with whom I wish to share a home. Unless…”

The maddest idea possessed her, born of desperation in the face of Hadrian Northmore’s frustrating resistance. “Unless you were prepared to marry me…entirely as a matter of convenience, of course.”

For once the man looked lost for words. Artemis congratulated herself on that small victory. She hoped the threat of having to wed her would make the alternative, of merely employing her, more attractive.

Before he could recover his voice, she rattled on with counterfeit eagerness, “Such an arrangement would answer all your objections, would it not? I would be a perfectly respectable married woman with a husband working abroad. No one would raise an eyebrow over my living arrangements. And you would not have to worry that I might marry anyone else in your absence. Since neither of us is inclined to wed in future, it would create no encumbrance.”

As she spoke, Mr. Northmore’s dazed stare tensed into a scowl of profound concentration. Or perhaps it betrayed his deep aversion to the idea of marrying her.

Given their vast differences and mutual bitterness, that was quite natural and all to the good, Artemis told herself, disregarding a foolish pang of humiliation. She did not want to marry him either, not even as a pure formality. The greater his distaste, the more anxious he would be to accept a less drastic alternative.

Hadrian Northmore sprang from his seat and began to pace in front of the hearth, one hand tucked behind his back while he rubbed his chin with the other.

“You know, that may not be as daft a scheme as it sounded at first.” His words stumbled out in a disjointed mutter, as if he were trying to persuade himself.

Good heavens! He wasn’t actually considering it, was he? For the first time in her life she’d acted on an impulse and look where it had landed her.

“You are too polite, sir.” Artemis endeavored to undo the damage. “It is a ridiculous idea. I see that now. Let us think no more of it, I beg you.”

He seemed too lost in his own thoughts to heed her. “I could adopt the lad as my heir. If we married, you and he would both bear the Northmore name. By the time he is old enough for school, the scandal of his birth may be forgotten and people might assume he is our son.”

“Perhaps so, but—”

“Say no more, Lady Artemis. You have persuaded me.” Hadrian Northmore strode toward her. Seizing her by the arms, he raised her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. “For the sake of our nephew, you must marry me!”

Chapter Four

If anyone had predicted he’d ever consider marriage again, let alone to the daughter of a marquis, Hadrian would have laughed in his face. Yet, here he was, not simply considering marriage to Lady Artemis, but quite determined to go ahead with it. His hands clamped around her slender arms as he awaited her answer.

“You and I marry?” Her eyes darted anxiously. “Surely you cannot mean that. We only met yesterday and we did not get on well.”

Her reluctance only strengthened his resolve. “We have our differences, I’ll admit. But we have one vital interest in common—the welfare of our nephew. Besides, it is not as if we will have to share a home for the rest of our lives. After a mere eight months, we will have no need for any contact beyond an annual exchange of letters.”

Before she could reply, the footman called out from his place by the door, “Begging your pardon, my lady. Do you need any help?”

With a guilty start, Hadrian realized how it must look to the servant—him looming over Lady Artemis, holding her so close. He might appear to be threatening her, or perhaps taking liberties. Both notions unsettled him in different ways.

Abruptly he released the lady and stepped back.

“Thank you, Roger.” Her answer sounded calmer than she appeared at close range. “I am in no danger from Mr. Northmore. If I require your assistance, I will not hesitate to call.”

Lowering her voice, she directed her next words at Hadrian. “Would it not be easier to provide me with a house and money for Lee’s expenses?”

Her reluctance reassured Hadrian. If she’d been eager to accept, it would have put him on his guard. “Think of the gossip and the harm to your reputation if anyone discovered you were living at my expense out of wedlock. I do not wish to bring more scandal upon your noble family. So it must be marriage or we will have a fight on our hands. Which do you choose?”

Expectant silence stretched tighter and tighter as he waited for Lady Artemis to make her decision. Hadrian felt a strange rush of danger and exhilaration, as if he were teetering on the brink of a high cliff above treacherous blue-violet waters. Though the lady’s delicate features remained impassive, Hadrian fancied he could hear the low hum of her thoughts as they raced through her mind.

Then her chin tilted a trifle higher and she announced, “I suppose I must choose marriage.”

“Excellent!” Only two days ago he had glimpsed his family and all his plans laid waste. Now they seemed to rise from the ashes.

The force of that dizzying turnabout pushed him toward Lady Artemis, his lips seeking hers as if to claim the spoils of victory.

The fine contours of her features, her flawless alabaster skin and her cool, detached manner all gave the impression she was not a real woman at all, but a classical statue that had somehow gained the power of movement and speech. It surprised Hadrian to find her lips so soft and warm beneath his. The unexpected pleasure tempted him to press it further. Then he remembered to whom those sweet lips belonged.

Before Lady Artemis could sputter with indignation, or slap his face, he drew back, speaking as if nothing had passed between them. “Now that you have consented, shall we set the date?”

“Soon.” Lady Artemis sounded dazed by his sudden kiss. “As soon as you can procure a special license.”

Her insistence on haste seemed odd, given her prior reluctance. Perhaps she wanted the wedding over with quickly, before she could change her mind.

Hadrian did not want to risk that happening. “Soon it shall be. I will go up to London at once to make the necessary arrangements.”

“Lee and I will await your return.” Lady Artemis made a formal little bow. “Send a carriage to Bramberley to collect us for the wedding.”

As she swept from the room with majestic grace, Hadrian’s mouth fell open just enough for the tip of his tongue to emerge and swipe over his lips, as if he expected the elusive flavor of her kiss to linger.

As she finished packing during Lee’s nap, Artemis caught herself gazing into space, lost in the memory of Hadrian Northmore’s swift, bewildering kiss.

For all its abruptness and vigor, it had not been rough or possessive. Indeed, the smooth heat of his lips had been a far more agreeable sensation than she would ever have anticipated. Not that she’d anticipated a kiss from Mr. Northmore in her wildest dreams.

Was this how his brother had ensnared her sister—luring Daphne to defy her family and risk ruin for the sake of a few fleeting moments of pleasure in his arms?

That thought rekindled the outrage that had smoldered in Artemis’s heart for more than a year. How could she have agreed to wed into the family of her brother’s killer? Not only agreed, but proposed the preposterous idea in the first place! No matter how desperate her circumstances, no matter how businesslike an arrangement it was meant to be, such a union could not be right.

Tiptoeing into the nursery, she gazed down at her nephew, asleep in his cot. A sweet, brooding ache swelled in her bosom.

“I would do anything for you,” she whispered. “But this feels like such a betrayal of your mama and uncle.”

She could still picture her brother’s handsome face, contorted with reckless rage, on the day he’d discovered Daphne was with child. “Damned if I will let that ill-bred scoundrel marry into this family!“

It had been the most dreadful row—Leander ranting like a madman, Daphne sobbing violently, Artemis pleading for them both to exercise some restraint. The memory of it still made her bilious. What would her brother say if he knew she would be the means of a Northmore marrying into the Dearing family? Would his ghost rise from St. Botolph’s churchyard to haunt her?

Artemis shook off a passing qualm. What was there to fear from her dead brother when she had two living uncles to face? Sooner or later she would have to inform them of her plans. Though she knew better than to expect a violent quarrel, she would almost have preferred it to Uncle Henry’s cold, severe rebuke or Uncle Edward questioning her family loyalty. All over a course of action to which they had driven her.

A sudden idea tantalized Artemis with its promise. Perhaps there was still a way she could escape the predicament she had talked her way into. Blowing a kiss to the sleeping child, she tiptoed out of the nursery and went in search of her uncles.

She found them in the library, sipping their brandy.

“Uncle Henry, Uncle Edward.” She curtsied. “I have some news.”

“Found a suitable place for the child, have you?” asked Uncle Henry. “He must be gone by the end of next week, remember. I have invited Mrs. Bullworth to Bramberley and mean to propose to her in the Great Hall.”

“Lee will definitely be gone by then.” Artemis squared her shoulders. “As will I. I have accepted an offer of marriage from Mr. Hadrian Northmore. The wedding will take place as soon as he returns from London.”

“Northmore?” Uncle Henry glowered. “Any relation to—?”

Artemis nodded. “He is Julian Northmore’s elder brother. The one who made such a great fortune in the Indies with Lord Kingsfold. He is eager to take responsibility for his brother’s child. He means to make Lee his heir.”

“Then give him the child, by all means.” Uncle Henry gulped a drink of his brandy. “But you cannot think of wedding such a man. It is out of the question!”

“Why?” Artemis could scarcely believe she was challenging the authority of her uncles. “I am well past the age of consent. Mr. Northmore is willing to provide a home for me and for my sister’s child. That is more than I can find at Bramberley.”

“Remember your rank and lineage,” Uncle Henry urged.

“Remember the trouble his miserable brother made for this family,” Uncle Edward added.

The second factor weighed far more heavily upon Artemis than the first. “I am only following your maxim, Uncle Henry. Sacrifices must be made for the good of the family. Though you may not choose to acknowledge him, Lee is my family. To keep him, I would marry the devil if I had to. And Hadrian Northmore is hardly that.”

The man wanted to raise his family to the kind of prominence hers had once enjoyed. Was that so contemptible? Some distant forebearer must have had the ambition and good fortune to elevate the Dearings.

“Think of the talk.” Uncle Henry set aside his glass. “Just when the other scandal was finally dying down.”

Was he afraid her actions might cost him the rich bride he sought to snare?

“Break it off, Artemis,” he entreated her. “If you have your heart set on keeping the child, perhaps something can be done. It will not be necessary for you to wed that odious man.”

There it was—precisely the concession she’d hoped to wring from her uncle with the threat of marrying Hadrian Northmore. If she and Lee left Bramberley straightaway for some remote spot, Mr. Northmore would have little chance of finding them before he was obliged to return to Singapore. She would have what she wanted without being bound to the man who provoked far too many intense, unwelcome feelings in her. The man who would always be a reminder of what she had lost.

But as she prepared to accept her uncle’s terms, a pang of conscience made Artemis hesitate. How would she feel if Hadrian Northmore took Lee and sailed off to the Indies where she could not follow? She would consider herself wickedly wronged, of course. Then how could she contemplate doing something similar to him? Another factor also weighed on her decision. It was one even Uncle Henry could understand.

“If you had made that offer last week, sir, I would have accepted most gratefully, but now I must decline.”

“Why on earth…?” her uncle sputtered.

“Because I have given Mr. Northmore my word.” Artemis struggled to subdue her misgivings. “And you have always told me the word of a Dearing is sacred.”

“The solemnization of a marriage is always a sacred privilege.” The vicar of St. Botolph’s beamed at Hadrian as they stood on the steps of the old church awaiting his bride’s arrival. “But never more than in this case.”

“I am glad you approve.” Hadrian was not sure what the vicar meant. “To be honest, I’m relieved you are willing to perform the ceremony, under the circumstances.”

“More than willing.” The vicar pushed up his spectacles. “Honored. Delighted!”

He was a slight, middle-aged man with thinning white hair and mild blue eyes. His air of naive charity was difficult for a practical man like Hadrian to fathom, though he found it rather disarming.

His face must have betrayed his puzzlement, for the vicar offered an explanation. “Your marriage to Lady Artemis exemplifies a true Christian spirit of reconciliation after the tragic events of the past. I pray Our Lord will richly bless your union.”

Reconciliation with the Dearings? It was all Hadrian could do to keep from venting a blast of bitter laughter in the vicar’s face. At the same time, it troubled his conscience to receive undeserved praise for such virtuous motives. His marriage to Lady Artemis was based on hard necessity and cold mistrust, nothing more.

“We both want what is best for the child.” Unable to meet the vicar’s innocent gaze, Hadrian pulled out his watch and flicked it open. Then he peered up the road. “I hope Lady Artemis has not changed her mind.”

It had taken him three days haunting the Doctors’ Commons in London to secure the special license. Every hour his impatience had grown as he remembered her plea for haste. What if she had second thoughts and decided to fight him for the child?

The vicar gave an indulgent chuckle. “If I had a shilling for every nervous bridegroom I’ve heard utter those words, I could easily fill the parish poor box.”

Hadrian contorted his mouth into a mirthless grin. He doubted any other groom had such good reasons for fearing his bride might not show up for their wedding. After a final glance at his watch, he clicked it shut and stuffed it back in his pocket.

The rumble of horses’ hooves drew his gaze back to the road. He recognized the yellow post chaise he’d dispatched to Bramberley to fetch Lady Artemis and his nephew.

He strode toward the entrance to the churchyard, a wrought-iron gate set in a low stone wall. When the carriage came to a halt, he pulled the door open and prepared to hand Lady Artemis out. Instead, she bundled his nephew into his arms, then climbed from the carriage without his assistance.

The child let out a squeal of laughter and wriggled his sturdy arms and legs. It was like trying to hold a squirming piglet. Conflicting inclinations warred within Hadrian. Part of him wanted to hoist the lad in the air, like a prize he’d won after a hard-fought contest. Another part warned him to be careful. It would be far too easy to grow attached to this appealing little fellow.

Holding the lad in an awkward grip, Hadrian peered past Lady Artemis into the empty interior of the carriage. “Where’s his nursemaid?”

“He does not have one.” Her tart tone suggested the question was ridiculous, perhaps even offensive. “I told you I have cared for him from the moment he was born.”

So she had, Hadrian admitted to himself. But he could not believe she’d meant the day-to-day routines of tending a child this young: feeding, dressing, washing, changing linen, and soothing him when he was ill.

His nephew’s squeals took on a fussy note.

“Hold him up to your shoulder,” Lady Artemis advised, “so he has a good view of everything. Then perhaps he won’t be so anxious to get down and walk about.”

Turning away from him, she greeted the vicar with grave courtesy.

Reverend Curtis bowed. “As I was telling Mr. Northmore, it gives me great pleasure to preside over your nuptials. I consider this a most gratifying symbol of Christian forgiveness between two families who have—”

Lady Artemis stiffened. “Thank you for permitting the ceremony to take place here. Dearings have worshipped at St. Botolph’s for centuries. I cannot imagine being married anywhere else.”

“Will the Marquis and Lord Edward be joining us?” asked the vicar.

“I am afraid that will not be possible. My uncles are…indisposed at present.”

Hadrian could guess the cause of their indisposition. He wondered if Lady Artemis had risked a permanent breach with her uncles in order to do the right thing for her nephew. That possibility kindled a reluctant glimmer of admiration for her.

Perhaps to forestall any more awkward comments from the vicar, Lady Artemis began walking toward the church. “Have witnesses been arranged?”

The vicar nodded. “My sister and the parish clerk have agreed to witness the ceremony and sign the register.”

Hadrian trailed after them with his nephew in his arms. Just as Lady Artemis had predicted, the child gazed around him, taking everything in. Whenever his eyes met Hadrian’s, he flashed a wide, wet grin. If his aunt had tended him since his infancy, she’d done very well. The lad appeared healthy, happy and reasonably clever for his age.

They entered the church, which was softly lit by scattered candles and spring sunshine filtering through the stained glass of the altar window. It depicted a cloaked monk holding a traveler’s staff. The place reminded Hadrian of another old country church, far to the north.

As they followed the vicar down the aisle, Hadrian’s small nephew seemed to decide the church was too quiet.

“Ah-do-ma-ba!” He made a sudden grab for Hadrian’s ear, doing his best to yank it off. His other hand found Hadrian’s nose and gave it a sharp twist.

“Ow!” The pain shocked Hadrian back into the broad northern dialect of his youth. “Giveower and whisht, ye blasted wee bug—”

Artemis let out a horrified gasp that cut him off before he blurted out something very rude in church.

Taking advantage of his momentary confusion, she wrenched the child out of his arms. “I will thank you not to take such a rough tone with Lee. He is far too young to know what he is doing.”

Her icy rebuke stung Hadrian more than his hot outburst seemed to have bothered their nephew. The wee imp chortled as if he knew he’d done something naughty and managed to get away with it.

Hadrian rubbed his smarting nose. “He’s none too young to start learning to mind.”

He sensed she wanted to fling a pithy retort at him, but by now they had reached the chancel steps, where their witnesses were waiting. Instead she turned away from him to greet the vicar’s sister, who looked absurdly like her brother in a voluminous black dress and high white collar. While the two women fussed over his nephew, Hadrian shook hands with the parish clerk. The vicar took his place and spent a moment leafing through his prayer book.

Once he found the right page, he cleared his throat and launched into the service. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”

Those words took Hadrian back to the last time he’d heard them, in Fort St. George, Madras. He could scarcely imagine a wedding more different from that one than this. He and his first bride had been so eager to wed. The early struggle to make his fortune was behind him, while the tragedy of his past had begun to loosen its grip upon his heart. Margaret’s vivacity and contagious high spirits had helped him look to the future with boundless hope.

He’d dreamed of siring a family of fine sons to carry on the Northmore name—lads who would never experience the danger and deprivation he and his brothers had endured. He’d foreseen a lifetime of happiness ahead with a family he would adore. Instead, after only two sweet, fleeting years, he’d lost his wife and infant daughter. And he had learned what a perilous thing hope could be.

An expectant pause wrenched Hadrian back from his painful reverie. Too late, he realized the moment for confessing any impediment to his present marriage had passed. Did the fact that he knew almost nothing about his bride count? Or that he did not much like the lady, let alone love her?

The vicar could not have guessed any of that, or he would never have fixed Hadrian with such a benevolent smile and asked, “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?”

Wife. Until now, that word had made him think of someone quite unlike Artemis Dearing. It troubled Hadrian to find her so very alluring when she was so different from the wife he’d lost. He held her in a solemn gaze, determined to betray nothing of the wrenching memories this ceremony had revived. “I will.”

Next the vicar addressed Lady Artemis. “Wilt thou take this man to thy wedded husband?”

“I will.” She focused her attention on her small nephew, as if pledging her love and life to him instead of her bridegroom.

Stifling an unexpected pang, Hadrian reminded himself this marriage was entirely for the child’s benefit. And he would have it no other way.

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