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Roarke Adair was silhouetted against the smoke-hazed sun, his dark red hair gleaming beneath his tricorn. He was even more maddeningly handsome sober than he'd been drunk.
    "You're early, Mr. Adair. The pub hour hasn't begun yet."
    His rugged features remained serious. "I've done more than enough drinking. I came to see you."
    "Why?" she demanded acidly. "To see that I held up my father's end of the bargain?"
    "If I thought there was a chance of your forgiving me, I'd apologize. But never mind, I'll just find Piggot, pay your father's debt, and things will be as they were."
    She glared at him. "Is that so?"
    "Aye. Mind you, I still think you'd fare much better in Virginia, but the choice is yours to make. It shouldn't have been decided by a draw of cards."
    "Your wisdom is a bit tardy, Mr. Adair," she remarked sarcastically.
    "Miss Elliot—"
    She laughed harshly. "There is no more 'Miss Elliot,' not anymore. I am Mrs. Cornelius Culpeper now."
    He stared, his blue eyes searching her face. Almost to himself, he said, "I should have known Piggot would waste no time. But 'tis only a proxy marriage… You might get an annulment."
    "Mr. Piggot is taking me to Southampton tomorrow."
    Roarke frowned. "That doesn't leave much time."
    Genevieve's resentment kindled hotter. Even with good intentions, Roarke Adair was proving himself as meddlesome as ever.
    "You've done quite enough interfering in my life, thank you," she said. "If I didn't want to leave England, be assured I wouldn't. I don't approve of what you did, but perhaps Virginia will be a good thing for me. You were right in thinking I despise this London slum. So let me go."
    He stared at her for a long moment. "Are you sure, Gen?" he asked.
    She almost winced at the gentleness she heard in his tone. She raised her small chin proudly.
    "Quite sure, Mr. Adair. But don't start patting yourself on the back. I don't feel at all beholden to you for this."
    "I'm not asking you to. Nor am I asking you to forgive me. But I do hope you'll tolerate me for Prudence's sake."
    She stopped walking and stared at him. "Prudence?" she asked, her voice rising a little. "How do you know Prudence?"
    "Not as well as a man should know his wife," Roarke said simply.
    Genevieve's knees began to feel weak and watery. She leaned back against a nearby building for support as Roarke quickly explained what had happened. Angela Brimsby, that viper, was Roarke's cousin. She'd duped the sod into marrying Prudence.
    "Gennie?" Roarke was frowning at her. "Are you all right?"
    She straightened up quickly, hoping he hadn't guessed at the thoughts that shot through her mind. Drawing a deep breath, she said, "Prudence is my only friend. I'm pleased we'll both be in Virginia." Seeing his face soften, she scowled. "But if you ever do a thing to hurt her, Roarke Adair, I'll find out. I'll find out, and I won't be merciful."
    To her surprise, he grinned broadly. "I dare say you won't, Gennie. But don't worry. I've given you little cause to trust me, I know, but I'll do right by Prudence."
    "See that you do," she said stiffly, and fled down the street to the tavern.

Chapter Three

    Genevieve's parents and
brothers were assembled in the empty taproom, where she waited the next morning for Henry Piggot.
    Her mother held out a fraying shawl. "Take this. You'll be needing it to keep warm on the crossing."
    Thanking her, Genevieve added the shawl to her small bundle of belongings, which consisted of a single set of clothes wrapped around the clock. Her father gave her a linen purse containing a knife and some eating utensils.
    "You'd best be looking out for wild Indians," said her brother Tom. "I've heard stories down at the docks—"
    "I've survived seventeen years in the meanest slum in London. I have no fear of savages."
    The door swung open. Piggot arrived, and Genevieve said a subdued goodbye to her family. She felt the finality of it without regret. The family had always been like strangers living in close quarters,