That meddlesome organ leapt at the sound of voices on the stairs at the far end of the corridor. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door handle and turned it.
The room was dark after the lighted corridor outside, and in spite of the glowing embers of a fire in the Adams fireplace, Maggie was momentarily blinded.
"Lady Gwendolyn. I know you are in here," she called out in a low voice. "You might as well show yourself. I shan't leave until you do."
There was a rustle of silk and a light step, then a tall, slender figure in a shimmering white negligee detached herself from the shadows next to the draperies.
"Maggie Willoughby. Fancy meeting you here." Dangling a ring of keys in front of her, which she must have stolen from the housekeeper, she smiled frostily. "Had I known you were coming, I should have locked the door behind me. As it is, you can just turn your chair around and get out. I did warn you to keep your distance. I mean to have Charlesworth, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."
"Perhaps not. You have never demonstrated the least concern for the feelings of others, after all, but this is coming it much too strong. Faith, Gwendolyn, do you care nothing for yourself, you might at least consider what such a scandal would do to my parents, not to mention your own mother—and, I might add, your brother, the duke."
"My brother, the duke?" Lady Gwendolyn's laughter sounded brittle in the quiet of the room. "Good God, you are an innocent. My brother cares nothing for me. He never has. And as for my mother, she has made it clear on more than one occasion that I am a very great disappointment to her. Nothing would please her more than to awaken tomorrow morning with the discovery that I have managed at last to ensnare a husband. I doubt that she could care less how I managed it."
Unexpectedly Maggie felt a surge of pity for the other girl. How strange that she had never realized in all the times that she had been to Brierly how lonely Lady Gwendolyn's existence must have been. No doubt it was because Maggie had never wanted for the one thing Lady Gwendolyn had always been denied —a family like the Willoughbys, noisome and squabbling at times but never lacking in warmth or love! Indeed, it seemed that a great deal was made clear by those few bitter remarks.
"Is that what this is all about?" she asked, feeling her way. "Pleasing your mama?"
"Pleasing Mama? Heavens, where could you have got such a nonsensical notion. I would do anything to be free of her pursestrings, and Reggie's. As it happens, Charlesworth would seem admirably suited to provide just such a means of escape. He is reputed, after all, to be as rich as Croesus."
Maggie shivered. "Is that all there is to it? Faith, have you no true feelings for the man?"
"I pray you will not be absurd. Feelings have nothing to do with it. Marriage, after all, is a business arrange-
ment. Although," she added with something resembling puzzlement, "I have discovered since coming here that his lordship is rather more entertaining than I had previously thought possible. In spite of the fact that I should be marrying beneath myself, I begin to'think we might deal very well together."
Somehow that revelation did little to hearten Maggie. Indeed, it seemed she might very well be meddling where she had absolutely no business to be. Obviously the earl was not entirely indifferent to Lady Gwendolyn. On the contrary, if he had managed to break even the smallest chink in that ice-clad heart, then he must have gone to great lengths to woo her. In which case, she, Maggie, Was an utter idiot ever to believe he might care in the4east for a nobody like herself. All at once she wanted to be anywhere but in that room with Lady Gwendolyn.
"I-I beg your pardon. I did not realize—" she began, only to be interrupted by the echo of footsteps in the corridor. Her heart in her throat, she wheeled her chair around. Her eyes froze on the door handle as it began to turn.
A shaft of light lanced through the open doorway, nearly blinding her. As she flung up her arm to shade her eyes, two startled exclamations rang out: "Maggie! What the devil!" and "Oliver Crandall! What are you doing here?"
"Yes, Mr. Crandall, what are you doing here?" Maggie demanded as soon as her eyes had adjusted sufficiently for her to make out that the coat molded to indecently broad shoulders was indeed unmistakably brown.
"No doubt you will find this exceedingly odd," drawled the gentleman, imperturbably propping one of those powerful shoulders against the doorframe, "but that was the very question I was about to put to you ladies. You see, whereas I was assigned this room and as such would seem to have every good reason to be here, I can conceive of not a single one why the same would apply to either of
you.
"Your room?" uttered Lady Gwendolyn in astonished accents. "But that is impossible. I was told this was where your brother was lodged."
"Oh, well, if it's him you want, I suppose that puts a different complexion on things. As it happens, my brother has a distaste for being awakened before noon, especially by sunlight streaming through an east window. Which is why I agreed to take this room. You will find him across the hall, two doors down."
"Thank you, Mr. Crandall," said Lady Gwendolyn, stepping in front of him. "And now if you will excuse me, no doubt you and Miss Willoughby have a great deal to discuss."
"Gwendolyn, wait—!" Maggie exclaimed. Too late. Mr. Crandall had already stepped aside, allowing the Ice Queen to sweep past him out of the room. The next instant, to her horror, the door slammed shut, followed by the ominous click of the key turning in the lock.
Abandoning the cumbersome wheelchair, Maggie hopped frantically on one foot to the oak barrier.
"Gwendolyn," she called in a harsh whisper. "Gwendolyn, open this door!"
"I am sorry, Maggie, dear," came from the other side of the barrier. "I did warn you, however, that nothing would stop me from getting what I wanted. Now I must bid you good night. No doubt it will occur to me to send someone to let you out, but if not, please do enjoy yourself."
"Now see what you have done!" Maggie uttered furiously as she turned to face the gentleman, who observed her with utter sang-froid. "She means to compromise herself with his lordship. Surely you must have guessed what she was up to. Why in heaven's name did you let her go?"
The masculine shoulders lifted in a shrug. "There seemed little point in stopping her," he had the gall to answer her, "especially since to achieve just such an alli-
ance was one of the reasons we accepted your father's invitation."
"The reason you accepted . . ." Maggie faltered to a stop, her mind reeling with the inevitable implications of that startling announcement.
"Does it trouble you so much, Miss Willoughby?" Crandall asked carelessly. "I promise you my brother has long entertained an affection for the lady. In fact, he has assured me on more than one occasion that no other female will do to be his wife."
"Then no doubt we must be very happy for him," Maggie retorted in bitter accents. "It would seem he will have his wish."
What a fool she had been not to have seen it all before. Lady Gwendolyn had been right. Whatever small kindnesses he had shown her had been motivated by pity, nothing more. And as for Oliver Crandall, no doubt she had been right about him as well.
Then all at once did the greater significance of her situation strike her. "Good God!" she cried, turning once more to tug frantically at the door handle. "They must not find me here!"
"Maggie!" She froze as a strong slender hand planted itself against the door next to her face. "It's no use, infant. You will only call attention to yourself."
Maggie swallowed, made suddenly and acutely aware of the warmth of his body so close to hers. Then, more maddening still, her heart began to pound as if on cue and her temperature to rise most alarmingly.
"Then what do you suggest we do, Mr. Crandall?" she said in a strangled voice. "Perhaps a game of pinochle to pass the time until we are discovered?" She struggled against an insane urge to giggle. "And then what? Try and explain to my parents and a houseful of guests that it was all perfectly innocent?"
"I hardly thin
k that would suit, Miss Willoughby," he I replied with the barest hint of amusement in his deep
voice. "As a matter of fact, I am quite sure it would not. Naturally, I shall ask your father for your hand in marriage. Surely you did not imagine I should do otherwise?"
Maggie clenched her eyes shut in mortification. "No, how could I?" she replied miserably. "When you have been so good as to rescue me from one stupid blunder after another? Really, it is simply too absurd."
She winced at the touch of his hand on her arm, firmly but gently turning her to face him.
"Would it surprise you to discover," he said, a finger beneath her chin forcing her to look up at him, "that I find nothing absurd in the notion of having you as my wife?"
She was startled into a nervous burst of laughter. "On the contrary, I should be surprised if you did. It is hardly a laughing matter, after all, to be trapped into marriage. Oh, it is all his fault. Why, if your brother was so set to wed Lady Gwendolyn, did he not simply ask her? Surely there was never any doubt that she would accept the honor of becoming his countess?"
An odd sort of smile twisted at the handsome lips. "You are right of course. She would never have turned down a coronet. Unfortunately, my brother is not an earl. / am, and I have not the least desire to marry Lady Gwendolyn."
Maggie, who had the sensation of having just been struck by a lightning bolt, felt her knees go suddenly weak beneath her.
"Maggie. You must believe I never meant to break it to you so suddenly." Strong hands reached for her to keep her from falling. "I was a bloody fool ever to agree to change places with Oliver."
This time she was too quick for him, however. Prompted by some instinct for self-preservation, she slipped from his grasp and, with something between a hop and a skip, managed to get the sofa between them.
"Then why did you?" she blurted, poised for further
flight should it prove necessary. "If it was to have fun at my expense, then you succeeded admirably. No doubt you will both have a fine laugh at my expense. Faith, what a fool you must take me for!"
"You, my dear, are foolish beyond permission if that is what you believe," declared Charlesworth, moving purposefully toward her. "It was nothing like that, I assure you."
"Was it not?" Maggie backed warily, never taking her eyes off him. "Come no closer, Lord Charlesworth. I warn you."
"You know it was not," he answered, taking another step. "Lady Gwendolyn made it obvious she would never let OUie close enough to breach that well-guarded heart of hers, not so long as she thought she had a chance at a title as well as a fortune."
"So you came up with the brilliant idea of trading identities," Maggie concluded bitterly as she rounded the corner of the sofa. "And why not, when it gave you the perfect opportunity to amuse yourself at my expense."
"You are wrong in both instances, Miss Willoughby. It was Ollie's idea to exchange coats after you left us to our cigars and brandy, and it was never my intent to hurt you. I am well aware I should never have given my word not to tell you, but as it turns out, the plan worked beyond our wildest expectations. Lady Gwendolyn may never be a countess, but she will have a husband who loves her and a fortune not even she would sneeze at."
"No doubt you are both to be congratulated. Unfortunately it would seem that you got more than you bargained for. Or would you have me to believe you planned for the eventuality of a wife you could not possibly want?"
Her heart leapt wildly at the sudden glint in his eye.
"On the contrary, Miss Willoughby," he drawled dangerously, facing her with only the width of the sofa between them. "Lady Gwendolyn was only one of the
reasons we came to Willoughby. You, my dear, were the other."
"I?" Maggie gasped. "Now you are doing it much too brown. You never set eyes on me before coming here."
"Oh, but I had seen you before, once, on a particularly memorable day at Brierly. I was on holiday from school with Reggie when I happened on you and your cousin involved in a heated exchange with Lady Gwendolyn. Perhaps you don't remember. You could not have been more than eight or nine at the time. That little girl, however, made a permanent impression on me. Having judged her to have grown at last into womanhood, I confess I was curious to see if she was still the same little spitfire who so courageously stood up against the duke's sister in defense of her cousin."
"That was you?" Maggie stared at him with slowly dawning recognition. He could not have been above eighteen at the time, a tall, slender youth who even then had had a commanding air about him. Lady Gwendolyn had not deigned to introduce him, not to Charlotte, whose father had died in disgrace and left his family penniless. It had been the first time either she or Charlotte had heard the truth of her father's untimely demise, and even now she could not bear the anguish that she had seen in her cousin's eyes.
Abruptly she turned away. "And now you have had your curiosity more than satisfied, have you not?" she said around the sudden lump in her throat. "I am that same impetuous little nobody who cannot seem to keep from becoming embroiled in one coil after another. Well, you need not worry that you will be made to pay the price of my folly. It would be asking far too much of you."
"Perhaps you should let me be the judge of that." Maggie's heart lurched as she realized he had advanced around the end of the sofa and even then was coming toward her. "In any case, it hardly signifies. You will
marry me, Miss Willoughby. You have no other choice in the matter."
Maggie uttered a gasp of outrage. How dared he presume so much! He was arrogant and overbearing, and she had not asked to be made his wife. Indeed, she had only been trying to save him from a similar fate with Lady Gwendolyn. Suddenly it seemed to her that disgrace could not be any worse than to live a lifetime with a man who could not love her, indeed, with a man who must inevitably come to despise her for having entrapped him into such a marriage.
"You are wrong, Lord Charles worth. I will not marry you. Not even if it means living in utter disgrace for the rest of my life."
"Why, Miss Willoughby?" he demanded, seeming to gauge the distance between them. "If I am to bear the infamy of having ruined an innocent female, I deserve at least to know why you will not marry me."
"Be-because I could never trust a man who has lied to me almost from the very moment we had the misfortune to meet," she declared, grasping at straws as she backed uncertainly before his advance. "How can I be certain even now that you are not lying to me, that you are not Charlesworth but Oliver Crandall?"
"I could show you the birthmark on my left hip, Miss Willoughby, if it will make you feel any better," he suggested and, to her horror, began peeling off his coat as though he meant to disrobe right then before her.
"You wouldn't dare!" Hastily Maggie turned her back on him. Only then, having understandably forgotten her ankle in the circumstances, she cried out as she felt it give way beneath her.
"Dammit, Maggie!" The next instant she found herself swept up for the fifth time in less than twenty-four hours into a strong pair of masculine arms. "How am I to get it through that hard head of yours that I love you and want to marry you if you will not hold still long enough for me
to prove it?"
Instantly Maggie froze, her heart beating erratically beneath her breast.
"You-you what?" she gasped, unable to believe she had heard correctly.
"Love you," he repeated obligingly. "Can you truly think I should have let Ollie talk me into what can only be described as an extremely troublesome charade had it been otherwise? It was the only way I could rid myself of Lady Gwendolyn long enough to insinuate myself into your affections. Perhaps I did not lose my heart to that little girl I encountered at Brierly, but you may be sure I fell head over ears in love with the haughty young beauty at the skating pond."
Maggie dropped her eyes, unable or unwilling yet to snatch at the happiness which seemed tantalizingly within her grasp.
"And how do I know that was you?" she demanded. "You might be Oliver for all I kn
ow."
"And, you, my dear, sound perilously like Lady Gwendolyn. Is making sure you are to become a countess so very important to you?"
"No, how can you say so?" she countered, hurt that he could believe her so conniving. "On the other hand, I have every right to know which man I am marrying. And a birthmark cannot tell me, of that you may be certain. I am afraid, sir, that you have no choice but-but to kiss me."
Tilting her head back and puckering her lips, she waited, her eyes open to see what he would do.
She did not have long to wait. A blue fire in his eyes, he covered her mouth with his.
Not even the most lurid of romances could have prepared her for the fiery tumult of emotions that coursed through her then. Passionately tender, he aroused a sweet conflagration within her which left her breathless and dazed. Her head spinning, she blinked up at him when no
"Well?" he murmured, his voice husky with barely controlled passion. "Are you satisfied as to who I am?"
It was perhaps little wonder that neither of them heard the click of the key in the lock or knew when the door was thrust open.
"Er—Milt, old boy," interrupted Oliver Crandall, poking his head in. A heavy sigh was heard to emanate from his lordship. "Sorry to intrude. I came to let you out as soon as I could. Er—there was something I wanted to ask you."
"Don't tell me," growled Charlesworth, apparently not in the least pleased at having been rescued. "You somehow let the lady escape you, in which case you wish to retain the title for just a little while longer."
"Well, not exactly. As it happens, we have fortunately been discovered by the duchess herself in what can only be construed as compromising circumstances. We are to be wed by special license with the greatest dispatch possible. The thing is s I hadn't the heart to tell the old dragon her daughter was getting a fortune but not a title. It occurred to me, old boy, that perhaps you wouldn't mind putting it off till Gwen and I have sailed to Greece for the honeymoon. After all, what can it hurt? By the time we get back, everything will have blown over, and . . . Er— Milt. Milt. Doi# you do it, Milt!"
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