Eversleigh looked down at her impassioned face through half-closed lids. He did not accept the invitation of her pouted lips. "Amusement," he replied. "You see, she amuses me, Suzanne."

She stared at him blankly and then laughed uncertainly. "She amuses you?", she repeated. "And that is reason for marriage?"

"An excellent one," he agreed. "I believe I shall not know a moment's dullness with Henry."

"Henry!" she repeated, revolted.

Later that same evening, Suzanne Broughton and Oliver Cranshawe met at a card party. They gravitated toward each other at suppertime.

"So, Suzanne," Cranshawe said, not bothering to charm her with his practiced smile, "my cousin has succeeded in thumbing his nose at both of us, it seems."

Suzanne looked haughtily back at him. "You, perhaps, she agreed. "but how me, pray?"

"Oh, come, Suzanne," he said, one corner of his mouth curling into a parody of a smile, "I am perfectly well aware that you were hoping to be the Duchess of Eversleigh. And he did appear to be leading you on, did he not?"

"I wish him well," she said with a brittle laugh. "His betrothal affects me not at all."

"But, if we could get revenge, my dear, you would not be displeased?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"Revenge?"

"I think it is probably too late to prevent the marriage, Cranshawe admitted. "He would not be persuaded to call it off, and she, little, minx, must be over the moon at having ensnared such a catch. But perhaps, Suzanne, we could ensure that it is not a prosperous marriage?" His voice had become soft and insinuating.

"How so?" she asked, trying to keep her piqued interest out of her eyes and voice.

"She looks a perfect ninny of a chit, this, er, Henry of his," Cranshawe said. "Should I get to know her and try what my charm can accomplish?"

Suzanne looked measuringly at him and then allowed herself to smile. "You area perfect devil, are you not, Oliver?" she said amiably. "But keep in mind that Marius as an enraged husband might be a trifle dangerous. There is no dueling weapon at which he is not adept."

"It might be worth the risk, though," he said, the sneer curling his lip again. "Do you not agree, Suzanne?"

"Why do you tell me this, Oliver?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I thought you might like to know that all is not lost," he said. "And if you could contrive to continue your liaison with Marius, we might make mischief out of it."

She smiled briefly and rose to move away to join a different group. "It would be a pleasure," she said with double meaning.

**********************************************************************************

And so the wedding took place, three weeks after the betrothal announcement, in St. George's, Hanover Square. Three hundred hastily invited guests attended and feasted at a large and lavish reception.

Finally, the Duke and Duchess of Eversleigh were alone in his town house, the pair of wagers won. They were to spend the wedding night in London and set out for a two-week wedding trip to Paris the next day.

Chapter 5

Henry was alone in her bedchamber. Until now Betty, the new maid allotted to her in her new home, had been in the room, helping her to undress and bathe, assisting her into a new white silk nightdress, and brushing her curls until they were dry and bouncy. Henry had been too busy. talking to Betty. and finding out about her family and her young man (his Grace's most junior footman) to really examine her new living quarters. Now she looked around her at the high ceiling, the tapestried walls with their delicate blue floral print, the pale-blue carpet underfoot, the royal-blue velvet hangings at the window and draped around the high four-poster bed, and the magnificent heavy furnishings.

She felt as if she were being royally treated, though she' could still not believe that she was now a duchess. She certainly did not feel any different. All the events of the previous three weeks were a blur in her mind. They had been filled with a whirl of visits, shopping expeditions, and fittings. Every day she told herself that the next day she would end the betrothal. She had never really believed that she would allow the ceremony to go forward. But each day she had postponed the embarrassing announcement. Sometimes it was because the twins or Miss Manford or the pets were being poorly treated again; more often, it was because she became paralyzed with a kind of terror when in Eversleigh's presence.

She had seen him almost every day during those weeks. She had gone driving with him, or he had escorted her to (lie theater, or he had been a dinner guest. But she felt no closer to knowing him. He held himself aloof and dignified. Ile never laughed or smiled. There was only that occasional gleam in his eyes that might have been a sign of humor, or that might have signaled contempt. His conversation was intelligent and pleasant, but he never revealed anything of himself. If any talk became too personal, he would turn the topic expertly with a comment that might or might not be a joke. It was so hard to tell.

Henry sighed as she stared at a Chinese screen spread out before the unlit fireplace in her bedchamber. And now Eversleigh was her husband. What would it be like to be Ids wife? Would she find it impossible ever to be free again? She had an uncomfortable feeling that if he set himself against the activities that she enjoyed-like riding, for instance she would not be able to win a fight against him. Well, today at least was over, she reflected cheerfully, and tomorrow they would be on their way to the Continent.

The door of the dressing room that adjoined her bedchamber and the duke's opened after a light tap, and Eversleigh entered the room.

Henry's eyes opened wide with surprise and apprehension. "Good evening, your Grace," she said formally. "What do you want?" Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast as she noticed that he was wearing a blue satin dressing gown.

He stopped inside the door and folded his arms across his chest. "I am lost for an answer, Henry," he said calmly after a moment. "It is our wedding night, you know."

Henry stood her ground. "But what do you want?" she asked.

That gleam was in his eyes again, she noticed. "The answer is really very simple now that I have had time to think of it," he said. "You, my love."

Henry did not know what to answer; so she just stood and waited. Eversleigh let his arms fall to his sides and walked toward her until he stood only inches away. "You could not possibly be shy, could you, Henry?" he asked quietly. "Come, there is no need. You must trust me."

He slid his hands very gently along the sides of her breasts and under her arms and drew her against him.

Henry looked up into his face in wide-eyed alarm. His lips came down softly on hers. Henry stood rigid. Other people had kissed her on the lips: her father, the twins, several people on this very day after the wedding, and always it had lasted a mere second. It was the sort of ordeal that had to be endured in this world. But this kiss, did not end after a second. After several seconds, in fact, she felt one hand slide down her body to hold her behind the hips and bring her full against the length of her' husband, while the other hand moved up into her hair and cupped the back of her head. His head tilted to one side, and his mouth opened over hers. She felt his tongue slowly trace the line of her lips.from one corner of her mouth to the other.

Henry panicked. She pushed wildly against his chest and darted across the room until the bed was between them. She clung to a bedpost and glared indignantly at him.

"Don't!" she said. "What are you trying to do?"

Eversleigh's eyes had opened wide for one unguarded moment. By now they were hooded again. He crossed his arms once more. "You are playing havoc with my self-esteem, Henry," he said with a sigh. "I was trying to make love to my wife."