"He's been dying for a long time," Tarquin replied. "What happened to him?"

Juliana started to explain, then stopped as Lucien's eyes fluttered open. He stared up at them, and she shrank back from the naked malice in the rapidly glazing eyes. "God rot the lot of you!" Lucien declared. His head dropped to one side, his eyes staring sightlessly at the wall.

Juliana stepped backward, suddenly conscious of an invisible thread connecting Tarquin and Quentin. As she slipped into the library, Tarquin bent over and closed Lucien's eyes. Quentin laid his hands on his breast. They stood in silence, looking down at the dead man,

"He's dead," Juliana said flatly as she entered the library.

"Who? Your husband or that oaf Ridge?" Sir Brian asked, sounding only mildly curious.

"Edgecombe."

"Well. I never knew the man, but if he was anything like that crude ox. the world's well rid of him," declared Lady Horsett. "But I consider it in the very worst of taste to die in a stranger's hall."

"No one could ever accuse Edgecombe of having taste, ma'am." Tarquin said ironically from the door. "But I do apologize once again for the inconvenience. It was most thoughtless of him to sully your house in such fashion."

"Well. I daresay it was not exactly your fault," Sir Brian allowed. "It was that clod Ridge who brought him here, as I understand. Or was it Juliana?"

"I didn't bring anyone here," Juliana said wearily. "I was dragged here against my will. I can assure you I would never knowingly have troubled you."

"Well, since you're now a widow again, what's to become of you?"

"After a suitable period of mourning, Juliana will become my wife."

The duke's cool statement produced a stunned silence. Sir Brian blinked; Amelia stared at Juliana as if she couldn't believe such a thing of the ugly duckling. Juliana and Quentin merely stared at the duke.

"But… but Lydia…," Quentin finally stammered.

"She will be eloping with you, my dear." Tarquin leaned against the mantel, an enigmatic smile on his face. He was clearly enjoying the effect he was having. "It seems the only workable solution. You and Lydia will elope. I will of course be the gentleman. Suitably upset at being jilted, but very noble about relinquishing my betrothed to the man of her heart. Lord and Lady Melton will have no choice but to put a good face on it. It's hardly a bad match, dear boy."

"But… but an elopement! I'll be drummed out of the Church." Quentin still gaped in disbelief at this impossible scenario.

"Nonsense," Tarquin said briskly. "People will know only that a private marriage took place with the blessing of Lydia's parents. It had to be quiet because of the bereavement. I will give my blessing graciously. Your bishop will welcome your most excellent wife, and everything will be smooth as silk."

The astonishing words fell into Quentin's brain like diamonds, sharp-edged and shining with clarity. It sounded so easy. He looked at Juliana, saw the glow on her pale cheeks, the light in her eyes. He looked at Tarquin, who was smiling softly to himself, his eyes resting on Juliana. And it became clear to Quentin that it was the only possible step for any of them to take.

"You wish to marry me?" Juliana found her voice at last. She still clutched the old cloak around her shoulders.

"So it would seem."

"I have always been astonished at your energy, Juliana, but three husbands in one year is industry beyond belief," Sir Brian remarked dryly.

"But you do seem to have done remarkably well for yourself," Amelia observed. "I would never have believed you could make a duchess."

"She will make an exemplary duchess, ma'am," Quentin said with one of his rare flashes of anger. "Juliana is a very special person."

Amelia looked surprised. "Do you think so, indeed? We always found her a great trial."

"How very unfortunate and how very blind, Lady Forsett." Tarquin stepped toward Juliana and took her hands. "Those of us who know her find her only a source of delight."

Juliana flushed and her fingers fluttered in his palm. "Really?"

"Really." He bent and kissed her lightly.

"There's something I should tell you."

"There's no need." His hand moved to her belly, rested there.

"You guessed?"

"Yes, my dear. It was not difficult." He laughed at her chagrined expression. "I have known that you're my heart and soul for many weeks now, mignonne. There are no secrets you can keep from me."

"There are no secrets that I would wish to keep," she affirmed, lost in his gaze, in the overwhelming wonder following so hard on the heels of despair, unaware of Quentin's discreetly ushering their hosts out of the room. Unaware of anything now but the sweetness of his mouth on hers, the sudden fire as his body moved against hers. The absolute knowledge of love.