Finding her eyes fixed on him enquiringly, Martin grinned. "Sweetheart, you put together a very convincing argument. So let's agree to be married tomorrow. Now that's settled, it seems to me you're
in far too composed a state. From what I've learned, it would be safest for everyone if you were kept
in a perpetual state of confusion. So come here, my sweet, and let me confuse you a little."
Lizzie giggled and, quite happily, gave herself up to delighted confusion.
The clink of crockery woke Caroline. She stretched languorously amid the soft cushions, the sensuous drift of the silken covers over her still tingling skin bringing back clear memories of the past hours. She was alone in the bed. Peering through the concealing silk canopy, she spied Max, tastefully clad in a
long silk robe, watching a small dapper servant laying out dishes on the low tables on the other side
of the room. The light from the brass lamps suffused the scene with a soft glow. She wondered what
the time was.
Lying back in the luxurious cushions, she pondered her state. Her final lesson had been in two parts.
The first was concluded fairly soon after Max had joined her in the huge bed; the second, a much more lingering affair, had spun out the hours of the evening. In between, Max had, to her lasting shock, asked her to marry him. She had asked him to repeat his request three times, after which he had refused to do
it again, saying she had no choice in the matter anyway as she was hopelessly compromised. He had
then turned his attention to compromising her even further. As she had no wish to argue the point, she had meekly gone along with his evident desire to examine her responses to him in even greater depth
than he had hitherto, a proceeding which had greatly contributed to their mutual content. She was, she feared, fast becoming addicted to Max's particular expertise; there were, she had discovered, certain benefits attached to going to bed with rakes.
She heard the door shut and Max's tread cross the floor. The silk curtains were drawn back and he
stood by the bed. His eyes found her pale body, covered only by the diaphanous silks, and travelled slowly from her legs all the way up until, finally, they reached her face, and he saw she was awake
and distinctly amused. He grinned and held out a hand. "Come and eat. I'm ravenous."
It was on the tip of Caroline's tongue to ask what his appetite craved, but the look in his eyes suggested that might not be wise if she wished for any dinner. She struggled to sit up and looked wildly around for her clothes. They had disappeared. She looked enquiringly at Max. He merely raised one black brow.
"I draw the line at sitting down to dinner with you clad only in silk gauze," Caroline stated.
With a laugh, Max reached behind him and lifted a pale blue silk wrap from a chair and handed it to her. She struggled into it and accepted his hand to help her from the depths of the cushioned dais.
The meal was well cooked and delicious. Max contrived to turn eating into a sensual experience of a different sort and Caroline eagerly followed his lead. At the end of the repast, she was lying, relaxed
and content, against his chest, surrounded by the inevitable cushions and sipping a glass of very fine chilled wine.
Max, equally content, settled one arm around her comfortably, then turned to a subject they had yet
to broach. "When shall we be married?"
Caroline raised her brows. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead."
"Well, I suggest you do, for there are certain cavils to be met."
"Oh?"
"Yes," said Max. "Given that I left my brother, Darcy Hamilton and Hugo Denbigh about to pay their addresses to my three wards, I suspect we had better return to London tomorrow afternoon. Then, if
you want a big wedding, I should warn you that the Rotherbridge family is huge and, as I am its head,
all will expect to be invited."
Caroline was shaking her head. "Oh, I don't think a big wedding would be at all wise. I mean, it looks
as though the Twinning family will have a surfeit of weddings. But," she paused, "maybe your family
will expect it?"
"I dare say they will, but they're quite used to me doing outrageous things. I should think they'll be
happy enough that I'm marrying at all, let alone to someone as suitable as yourself, my love."
Suddenly, Caroline sat bolt upright. "Max! I just remembered. What's the time? They'll all be in a
flurry because I haven't returned…"
But Max drew her back against his chest "Hush. It's all taken care of. I left a note for Aunt Augusta.
She knows you're with me and will not be returning until tomorrow."
"But…won't she be upset?"
''I should think she'll be dancing a jig." He grinned as she turned a puzzled face to him. "Haven't you worked out Aunt Augusta's grand plan yet?" Bemused, Caroline shook her head. "I suspect she had
it in mind that I should marry you from the moment she first met you. That was why she was so insistent that I keep my wards. Initially, I rather think she hoped that by her throwing us forever together I would notice you." He chuckled. "Mind you, a man would have to be blind not to notice your charms at first sight, m'dear. By that first night at Almack's, I think she realized she didn't need to do anything further, just give me plenty of opportunity. She knows me rather well, you see, and knew that, despite my reputation, you were in no danger of being offered a carte blanche by me."
"I did wonder why she never warned me about you," admitted Caroline.
''But to return to the question of our marriage. If you wish to fight shy of a full society occasion, then
it still remains to fix the date."
Caroline bent her mind to the task. Once they returned to London, she would doubtless be caught up
in all the plans for her sisters' weddings, and, she supposed, her own would have to come first. But it would all take time. And meanwhile, she would be living in Twyford House, not Delmere House. The idea of returning to sleeping alone in her own bed did not appeal. The end of one slim finger tapping
her lower lip, she asked, "How soon could we be married?"
"Tomorrow, if you wish." As she turned to stare at him again, Max continued. "Somewhere about
here," he waved his arm to indicate the room, "lies a special licence. And our neighbour happens to be
a retired bishop, a long-time friend of my late father's, who will be only too thrilled to officiate at my wedding. If you truly wish it, I'll ride over tomorrow morning and we can be married before luncheon, after which we had better get back to London. Does that programme meet with your approval?"
Caroline leaned forward and placed her glass on the table. Then she turned to Max, letting her hands
slide under the edge of his robe. "Oh, yes," she purred. "Most definitely."
Max looked down at her, a glint in his eyes. "You, madam, are proving to be every bit as much a houri
as I suspected."
Caroline smiled slowly. "And do you approve, my lord?"
"Most definitely," drawled Max as his lips found hers.
The Duke of Twyford returned to London the next afternoon, accompanied by his Duchess. They
went directly to Twyford House, to find the entire household at sixes and sevens. They found Lady Benborough in the back parlour, reclining on the chaise, her wig askew, an expression of smug satisfaction on her face. At sight of them, she abruptly sat up, struggling to control the wig. "There
you are! And about time, too!" Her shrewd blue eyes scanned their faces, noting the inner glow that lit Caroline's features and the contented satisfaction in her nephew's dark face. "What have you been up to?"
Max grinned wickedly and bent to kiss her cheek. "Securing my Duchess, as you correctly imagined."
"You've tied the knot already?" she asked in disbelief.