"Brave talk, but you're new to the game, Juliana," Lilly said. "Wait for six months and see how brave you are then."

"If she's to be properly married to a viscount, she won't have to become accustomed," Rosamund pointed out. "But why is the duke procuring you for his cousin? It seems very peculiar."

"You'd best try to find out if this cousin wants anything special," Emma said. "Sometimes they have to have whores because respectable women won't do what they want. But he might want something bad… something hurtful. You want to be sure you know what you're getting into."

She couldn't tell these women that she was being blackmailed and that whatever the duke and his cousin wanted of her, she'd be obliged to provide. She couldn't tell them that all her brave protestations about making a stand and forcing a change in their conditions of service were so much posturing. She was as firmly caught as any one of them, with no more power to alter her destiny at this point than a pinned butterfly.

" 'Is Grace bids you join 'im and Mistress Dennison in the small salon, Miss Juliana," Mr. Garston spoke from the doorway.

Bids, not asks. Juliana rose. She had no choice but to do His Grace's bidding.

Outside the door to the small salon, she hesitated. She should knock. Then, with a little tilt of her chin, Juliana decided to make one small gesture. She threw open the door and stepped into the room.

"Oh, there you are, Juliana." Elizabeth looked startled.

"Not a surprise, madam, surely. I understood you had asked to see me."

Tarquin's lips twitched. Miss Juliana seemed to have recovered her spirit. He stood up and came over to her. "Come and sit down, mignonne.” Taking her hand, he brushed it with his lips, then deliberately and very lightly kissed her mouth.

It seemed a casual greeting, but Juliana understood it for what it was. A public statement of possession. A shiver ran up her spine, and she looked away.

"My dear, someone has been inquiring for you at the Bell," Mistress Dennison said. "Do you know who it could be?"

Juliana's blood ran cold. They had traced her to London. She shook her head.

"This gentleman seemed convinced you had come from Winchester, not York," the duke said gently. He raised an eyebrow as he met her gaze. "He described you rather accurately. But perhaps you have a twin somewhere."

"Don't play with me, my lord duke," Juliana said fiercely. "I have no intention of denying that I got off the Winchester coach. What point would there be at this stage?"

"None whatsoever," he agreed, taking a seat opposite her. "So who would be searching for you… apart from the constables?"

"My guardian, Sir Brian Forsett, perhaps."

"I understand this was a young man," Elizabeth said. "Somewhat corpulent and a little… well, rustic, according to Mr. Bute."

"George," Juliana said flatly. "But why would he bother to find me? It's a case of good riddance, I would have thought. For everyone," she added almost in an undertone.

Tarquin's gaze sharpened, resting on her face. He watched the flicker of hurt in the green eyes, the momentary soft quiver of the full mouth. To his astonishment he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her.

Only with one other woman had he had such an urge. Pamela Cartwright. How flattered he'd been when the beautiful Pamela had chosen him, a naive youth, over the sophisticated men-about-town, the wealthy roues, the powerful politicians, who clustered at her feet. And how long it had taken him to understand that she was interested only in his fortune. He'd bought every kiss, every caress, and convinced himself that she gave him love in return. He'd trusted her with his innermost feelings, had stripped himself bare for her, and she had trampled on his youthful passions, his burgeoning sensitivity.

But that was in the past, and he was no longer an idealistic vexing fool

"Come, now." he said briskly "You can't imagine that you can disappear off the face of the earth without some member of your family looking for you."

"I don't see why not." Juliana said "My guardian and his wife were delighted to wash their hands of me. They'll be in no rush to find me, particularly when I'm supposed to be a murderess. They're more likely to disown me."

Her tone was matter-of-fact, but Tarquin saw the hurt that still flickered in her eyes, still tremored slightly on her mouth, and he caught a glimpse of the lonely, unloved child she'd been.

"This George," Elizabeth prompted, bringing the duke sharply back to the issue at hand. "Is he a member of your family?"

"My husband's son," Juliana said. "Sir George, I suppose he is, now that John's dead. He probably wants to find me so he can get the marriage settlements back He was furious at the conditions of my jointure."

"Ahh," said Tarquin. "Money. That's a powerful motivation. How clever is he, in your opinion'"

"Thick as a block," Juliana said. "But he's as vicious as a terrier when he gets an idea in his head. He won't let go."

"Well, I daresay we can put him off the scent," the duke declared. "As the wife of Viscount Edgecombe, you'll be beyond the reach of some country bumpkin."

"But not beyond the reach of the Duke of Redmayne," she flashed.

Tarquin regarded her wryly and in silence for a minute while she stared back at him, refusing to drop her eyes. Then he turned back to Elizabeth. "If you'd send for Mr. Copplethwaite, madam, we can complete the formalities. The sooner Juliana is established, the safer she will be."

"Established as what, might I ask?" To Juliana's annoyance her voice shook slightly. "Am I to be married by an unfrocked priest in a marriage shop?"

"Now, who could have put such an absurd and insulting idea in your head?" demanded Tarquin, genuinely startled.

"Such an ungrateful creature, she is," Elizabeth declared, glaring reproachfully at Juliana. "To be so ungracious when she's being offered such an opportunity."

"Oh, spare me your pious hypocrisies, madam!" Juliana leaped to her feet. "I am being compelled into prostitution, so pray let us call a spade a spade." She spun on her heel and stalked to the door. Unfortunately, the dramatic affect of her exit was somewhat diminished when her skirt caught in the door as she slammed it behind her and she was obliged to open it again to release herself.

The Duke of Redmayne took a leisurely pinch of snuff. "I foresee a somewhat turbulent few months," he observed. "But I expect I shall find it interesting, at the very least." He rose to his feet. "I'll return this evening. I don't wish Juliana to keep company with the other girls today, I'm inclined to think she's listened enough to their tales and gossip. She should keep to her chamber for the rest of the day. I would find her there alone when I come."

"And the lawyer, sir?" Elizabeth walked to the door with him.

"Instruct Copplethwaite to call upon me in Albermarle Street as soon as the contracts have been drawn up to your satisfaction," he said. "I will then procure a special license. The marriage should take place without delay… Oh, and reassure the child about the marriage, will you? I won't have her believing I would play her false."

"I cannot imagine how she could have thought such a thing." Elizabeth curtsied at the door.

"Neither can I," he responded aridly. "Good day, ma'am." He bowed and strode down the stairs, leaving Elizabeth at the top, looking both thoughtful and annoyed, before she turned and made her way upstairs to Juliana's chamber.

Juliana had discarded her hoop and was struggling with the laces of her corset when Mistress Dennison entered. "You should summon Bella to help you," Elizabeth said.

"I am accustomed to looking after myself," Juliana responded, gyrating impatiently as she tugged at a recalcitrant knot. It came undone, and with a sigh of relief she pulled the garment from her, tossing it onto the bed. "Did you wish to speak with me. ma'am?''