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glance at his somber, classical features. Of all the precious parts he might bring to a child, only one tiny part was suspect.

As if touched, he turned to her, asking silent questions. What distresses you? Can I help?

Muted by the servants, she replied with a slight shake of the head, and turned again to the safety of the window. Market gardens now, worked over like worker bees by people gathering vegetables for the crowded city. Their coach had slowed because of the crush of traffic moving into London, coaches, carts, and people on foot.

If only they could stop, freeze here, where at least they were together.

In London they must part, and a king awaited to be pacified, to be escaped unwed. For she knew now she could not marry another, even to escape an insane asylum.

You or no other.

The busy road slowed them, even though vehicles made way for the crested carriage. People in the street turned to watch the grand coach and outriders pass by, and her attention was caught by one couple.

A small child stood between them, hands in theirs like a link in a chain. The little girl pulled her hands free and obviously demanded to be picked up. The father did so, smiling. Her arm went confidently around his neck as she pointed to the coach, chattering.

They were close now, and Diana couldn't help but smile and wave at the little girl. She saw her own handful of rings flash in the sunlight, and the child's eyes and smile widen with delight as she waved back.

The coach moved on, leaving the family behind. Doubtless they thought they'd just seen the most fortunate of people, those who lived blessed and golden lives, when instead she felt like a beggar at their table.

Hard to imagine herself and Bey strolling down a street as a family like ordinary people, but easy to imagine him carrying a cherished child. As with little Arthur, he would be loving with his own children. As with his brothers and sisters, he would be a rock around which they could build fulfilling lives.

Being a rock must be so cold and hard.

The sudden shift was like the cracking of a dark wall, letting in the light. This was wrong. It was all wrong, and there must be a way to set it right, not just for her own sake, but for his. Especially for his. He deserved more of life, this magnificently generous man, than the cold land to which he had exiled himself.

He needed, in fact, to be rescued.

As simple streets became fashionable, she hunted for a way. She failed, but did not give up. They were two wealthy, clever, and powerful people. There had to be a way.

Fashionable streets and fashionable people intruded however, and she had to break the silence. "My lord, surely I cannot go to court like this." She touched her stained gown.

"Of course not," he said, but as if he truly hadn't thought of it until then. A victory of sorts, she supposed, to have distracted that controlled and logical mind.

"The baggage carts should have arrived," he said. "If not... Elf has left some clothes at Malloren House."

Diana had to fight a giggle. She and Elf were of a different build and height.

A rueful reflection of her humor warmed his eyes, but instantly, they cooled. "If your baggage has not arrived, we will send your excuses to the queen."

Excuses meant more time. More time with him. More time to discover the way. Perhaps, despite promises and willpower, another night.

"We're entering Marlborough Square," he said as the coach turned between rows of modern houses and into an open space.

She looked out at tall brick houses with dark railings in front, and lines of trees. There was even a pretty garden in the center, complete with duck pond. "It's lovely. I didn't expect so much greenery."

"There are many parks in London, too."

What banal conversation, and yet it was the best they could manage.

"This is Malloren House," he said as the coach turned into a courtyard in front of a mansion set apart from the terraces to either side.

She took refuge in teasing. "Only to be expected that you would have the largest house in the square, my lord."

"But of course. I own it all. No credit to me, however. My grandfather took a dislike to living in the crowded older parts of London and bought the land. As he planned his country estate, the fashion for these squares started and he