slippers from the box and set them on the bed. They were fashioned of pure white silk over-stitched with pearl thread.
The design that reminded Elizabeth of a spider web.
"Aren't they lovely, miss? There's a pair of riding boots and several pair of house shoes as well."
Elizabeth looked at the maid. The girl gave an apologetic shrug. "I couldn't resist a peek, miss. Only at the shoe boxes. You don't mind?" The expression on the young maid's face was so guileless that Elizabeth couldn't help but be charmed.
"I don't mind, Katie."
"Try them on, miss."
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed and slid her feet into the white slippers. The fit was perfect. How could he have known?
Katie opened a large flat box. The girl's gasp brought Elizabeth to her side.
Together they lifted out a dress of liquid moonlight, its shimmering silk bodice embroidered with delicate white roses. A circle of the same tiny flowers, this time in pink, danced a few inches above the hem and along the low cut neckline. Elizabeth could almost hear Mrs. Huntington's voice: It's what happens when you go beyond the pink roses . Whatever his failings, her betrothed had a sense of humor. Elizabeth laughed. Katie looked offended.
"But I've never seen anything so beautiful!" the girl exclaimed. "Don't you like it?"
"It's perfect, Katie." Elizabeth smiled her first real smile in months. "Absolutely perfect."
"Good." The deep masculine voice sent a tingle of recognition up Elizabeth's spine. She whirled around.
Devlin stood in the doorway that connected the blue bedroom to hers. His buff-colored breeches and long riding coat were covered with the dust of the road. His hair was windblown, his boots scuffed and muddy. Katie bobbed a curtsy, tucked the gown back into its box, and left, pulling the hallway door shut behind her.
"Thank you," Elizabeth said. She slipped out of the white shoes and pushed them beneath the bed with one stockinged foot, "for the doctor and the carriage and the clothes."
Devlin advanced into the room and what had seemed so generous a space just moments ago, felt suddenly small. He took a seat on the bed and gestured to the counterpane beside him. "We must talk, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth nodded. Entertaining a man in her bedroom, even a man who would be her husband in less than twenty-four hours, was more than irregular, it was scandalous. But Elizabeth was not in a position to complain. Nor did she want to. They did need to talk. He deserved to know the truth.
To avert scandal he'd done the honorable thing. But there was little point in saving the reputation of a dead woman. And that was what she would soon be. She sat beside him, avoiding his gaze by staring at the hem of her dress, beneath which she carefully tucked her slipper-less feet.
"You need not marry me," she began, trying not to think of what she might be giving up and the suffering it would cause her mother. "In the shock of the moment," she blushed, "after finding Mr. Fosse and Miss Blakely like that, you were hurt. I realize you announced our engagement as a way to save face, but you needn't go through with this. It wouldn't be fair."
"You're right, Elizabeth. I haven't been fair."
She looked up then and their eyes met.
"I was upset that night in the garden," he said. "But not because of any deep feelings for Miss Blakely. I assure you I have none, other than a simple admiration for her as a sensible young woman with a good scientific mind. The fact that Mr. Fosse, one of my closest friends, hadn't told me the truth of how he felt for Amanda, that did hurt. He should have known better. But all has ended as it should have, with Leo married to the woman he loves."
"You do not need to marry me," she repeated.
"But I do, Elizabeth. And I will. Tomorrow night you will be mine." He reached out and wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger. The expression on his face made Elizabeth's heart race.
"You offered for me because Mrs. Huntington forced you to,