Verena opened the door to James’s room and peered in.

He immediately pushed himself to a sitting position. “Ver!”

She went in and perched on the edge of his bed. “You look better. What did the physician say?”

“That I shall be up and about on crutches within the next few days. The timing’s perfect, for our ship sails Saturday.”

The news should have made her happy. Instead her eyes sprang a horrid leak. “I—I’m glad.”

He took her hand, a wry smile on his face. “No, you’re not. Where’s St. John?”

“He was here all morning but I didn’t see him.” She couldn’t. Ever since yesterday’s horrible experience, she’d avoided Brandon, refusing to see him simply because she couldn’t. Her heart was almost breaking now.

James sighed. “Are you certain this is what you want to do? Leave London?”

She didn’t want to leave at all. “You know what would happen if we stayed.” The suspicions would begin, and the whispers. “We don’t have that blasted list.”

James rubbed his chin, his brow creased. “I suppose so. I just—Verena, we only get so many chances at happiness. Don’t waste this one.”

Her throat tightened, her eyes burned. She wasn’t wasting anything. She stood, patting his hand softly. “The only thing I’m wasting is time. I’ve packing to do.”

She gave him an encouraging smile and left, stopping outside to rest her head against the cool wooden door. As soon as James’s leg healed, they would leave and everything would be as it should be. She should be happy. After all, she would be with her family soon. And James was well.

“There you are,” came a voice at her ear.

She gasped, then pressed a hand to her thudding heart. “Brandon! For the love of—you scared me!”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, stepping out of the shadows. He filled the narrow hallway, made it seem darker and intimate. “How is your brother?”

“Better.” Verena turned toward the stairs, anxious to get somewhere where there was more light. Why did her heart lurch every time Brandon was near? “The doctor said he should be up in a few days.”

Brandon followed her down the steps. “That isn’t that long. And we can all use a little rest.”

Verena paused at the door of the sitting room. “How did you get in?”

Brandon shrugged. “I have my ways.”

“You bribed Herberts, didn’t you?”

He opened the door and stood to one side. “I’ll never tell.”

She paused, remembering suddenly the last time they’d been in this room. Her skin heated at the thought. A glance at Brandon told her that he was thinking the same thing, his gaze on the settee, a faint smile on his lips.

Blast, blast and double blast. She hated farewells. Back stiff, she walked into the sitting room. All too soon, she’d never see this room again. For some reason, it looked dreadfully dear. She blinked back tears when she realized that in a week, she’d be saying good-bye again.

Good-bye. That had to be the most horrible word ever written into a language. Her eyes stung and she went to the window overlooking the street to hide her tears. There was so much she wanted to say—so much she needed to say, but couldn’t.

Brandon came to stand beside her, his leg brushing her skirts. “When we were last in this room, I started to tell you something, but you told me to wait.”

“Yes, well, there’s no need to—”

“I’ve a question or two. If you don’t mind, of course.”

She should tell him to leave. This very instant. But somehow, the words changed in her throat. “You may ask me anything you wish.”

“How come your trunks are still in the front hallway?”

Verena stiffened. “Trunks?”

“Yes. I looked in them while I was waiting. You’ve clean shirts, nightgowns, that sort of thing. I know you were going to pretend to be leaving when we used the fake note, but now…now I have to wonder if perhaps you aren’t pretending anymore.”

“Oh.”

He moved so that as he leaned against the window frame, his shoulder came in contact with hers. “You’ve planned on fleeing the country.”

Verena wet her lips. It sounded cowardly when he said it like that. She turned to face him. “Brandon, we have no choice. We don’t know where that list is and until we find it—”

“It’s time you stopped running.” His eyes burned brightly. “Forever, Verena. Have you ever used that word? Forever. It’s a beautiful word.”

“I am not running. For your information, I stopped running four years ago,” she said stiffly.

“Did you? Or did you exchange running for hiding?” He smoothed a curl that lay on her shoulder, his voice low, intimate. “When I first met you, there were some things about you that didn’t make sense. Little things. But significant for all that.”

“Like what?”

“That you were known in the demimonde as a seductress.” He leaned forward and rubbed his cheek along hers, the touch sparking a heat in her stomach and lower. “Yet I could find no one who recalled you ever having a lover. Not one.”

She shivered. Her entire body was awash with the feel of him. “Perhaps I kept my lovers well hidden.”

“And perhaps you never took one because it would mean revealing yourself.”

“Brandon, there is no need for this conversation.”

“Oh but there is. You see, it has been several days since I realized that I cannot live without you.”

She looked down at her hands. Strange how one could see one’s hands every day but never really see them. They were long and elegant, though she deplored how wide her thumbnail appeared to be. “Brandon, you don’t know—”

“Verena, will you marry me?”

It was just like when Andrew had asked her. But unlike Andrew, Brandon had much, much more to lose. Worse, she had much, much more to lose.

“No,” she whispered. “I cannot.”

“Why can’t you? Don’t you love me?”

Did she love him. God help her, but she was awash in love. Every thought, every feeling, every sinew of her body was of him and for him and by him.

And that was why she had to send him away. “Brandon, you must think this through. I am not just a nobody. I am a Lansdowne. My family is a family of charlatans. We answer to no one and we are very, very good at deception.”

“So is my brother Devon. He would have been an incredible actor.”

“Would have been, if he hadn’t been a St. John.”

He frowned. “You are the most obstinate female. Verena, I don’t care—”

“But you will. You will care when your brothers turn their backs on you. When your family refuses to say your name ever again. When people you thought were friends cut you at every opportunity, refusing to recognize you, mocking you at every turn.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Do you know what that feels like? Do you have any idea? It hurts, Brandon. It stings like a cut but it’s oh so much deeper. I will never go through that again.”

“Good God, is that what happened when you married Westforth?”

“That and more.”

Brandon looked at her for a long moment, watching her from beneath his lashes. Finally he sighed.

The sound ripped through Verena like a knife. That was it. He would leave. She would follow James to Italy and then on to France. But her heart…where would it be?

She closed her eyes, and made to turn away, but Brandon’s hands closed over her arms. “I suppose you are right—our marriage would indeed cause a scandal. Just as your other marriage caused a scandal.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “After Andrew died…it was horrible.”

His hands moved up and down her arms, rubbing, smoothing. It was as if a heavy net entwined them. Brandon pressed his lips to her temple and murmured against her skin, “But there’s a difference this time. Whatever happens to us, it will happen to us together. I will never ever leave you alone. Do you understand that? No one will cut you without facing me first.”

“Brand, you can’t face down that sort of thing.”

“Can’t you?” He tilted her face to his. “Watch me.”

“I can’t—I won’t go through that again.”

He frowned. “What about me, Verena? What about the fact that I love you? That I can’t live without you? You think there will be a scandal if you marry me? What if you don’t marry me?”

She frowned. “I don’t see—”

“I’ll die.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Part of me will.” His hands cupped her face warmly. “You are a part of me, Verena, whether you want to be or not. I cannot live without you. If you go to Italy, then so shall I go.”

“B-but your family—”

“Will understand.” He took her hand and placed it over his pocket, over the ring that hung suspended on a ribbon. “You belong to me.”

Her fingers closed about the metal circlet, the warmth tingling beneath her fingers. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll marry me and keep me from living a horrible nomad’s existence. And if you won’t marry me…that would be an even larger pity. Because you see, I wrote to your parents and invited them to our wedding.”

Verena lost the ability to speak and breathe. She blinked up at him. “You did what?”

He smiled smugly. “You heard me. I wrote and asked your parents to come to the wedding. They should be on their way now. I do hope they make it before Saturday next.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s when we’re getting married. I’ve already procured a special license.”

“Brandon, how can—”

“And that’s another thing. I’ve already sent the invitations.”

“You—you did?”

“Well, no. I didn’t do it myself. I’m not much in the way of organizing things. But my sister is. As is my sister-in-law. Between Sara and Anna, I believe they’ve taken care of the entire event, or so they assure me. I hope you will be pleased.”

“But—surely you can cancel—”

“Two hundred invitations?”

Her lips moved faintly.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, we could try. But I’m certain we’d miss a few, which could cause all sorts of problems.” He sighed. “And then there is the orchestra, the cake, the ball—”

“What ball?”

“To welcome you to the family. My brother Marcus is determined to stare down anyone who might offer either of us insult. So they’re having a grand ball to introduce you as Mrs. Brandon St. John.”

“How—when—” Verena pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Brandon, I can’t let you—”

He pressed his fingers against her lips. “You don’t have to let me do anything. If you don’t want to marry me, then I’ll just have to deal with the scandal on my own.”

“What scandal?”

“Of being stood up. Left at the altar. A laughingstock of the entire ton. If you don’t show up at the wedding after we’ve already invited all those people…well, everyone will know that you’ve walked out on me. Because I will be there.”

It was blackmail. Rich, delicious blackmail. Her lips quivered ever so slightly. “You will, hm?”

“Oh yes. And people will talk, you know.”

“I imagine they might.”

“It will take forever to live it down. This sort of thing…” He sighed dramatically. “I am considered quite a catch and that will make it all the worse.”

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “I can see where it might cause all sorts of problems, especially since you are so handsome.”

“Exactly my point.” He traced his fingers along her cheek, the touch feather light, his gaze intense. “Verena, if you do not marry me and quickly, I will never be happy again. I love you.”

She just stared at him, her heart quivering. “Brandon, I can’t—”

He kissed her. Kissed her so thoroughly that she had to cling to him when he finished. “Well?” he said roughly. “Will you marry me and save me from my mistakes? Save me from dying old and alone, for I will, you know.”

He looked down at his pocket and undid the ribbon. “Verena, will you please marry me?” He slid the ring over her finger.

The ring seemed to glow, the metal warm against her skin. He did have a point…there would be a scandal no matter what she did. Only if she stayed and married him, they wouldn’t have to face it, or anything else, alone.

“Yes, Brandon,” she said, her heart full. “I will marry you.”

And she did.