Rebecca had already sent the younger girls upstairs to do their homework when Alex wandered into the library and told her his plan to meet the blackmailer. She was aghast.

"You can't meet him alone," she argued. "What if he is armed?" She disregarded his news of more paintings in the attic as irrelevant, his attempt to distract her from the important issues. Captain Alex Woodward was one sneaky fellow, and she wouldn't put anything past him.

"I'm armed too," he said. "I have a pistol and I know how to use it. I'll be fine, Rebecca. I've been a soldier for more than a decade. I can take care of myself."

"You're planning to spend hours outside. It's raining and horribly cold."

Alex shrugged. "Look at you. Not even a running nose after your yesterday's dunking."

"I have always been hale," she said dismissively.

"So have I. I've been on the march in some ghastly weather too."

"You were wounded recently." She looked him up and down. "Although you don't use your cane all the time anymore. You don't limp badly either. You're healing. You shouldn't jeopardize your recovery."

"Rebecca, nobody but me can talk to this man, you know that. We can't risk him opening his trap and spouting some nasty gossips, not before we lay the foundation for the news. We must control the information delivery, not him."

"How? He'll talk anyway as soon as he discovers that you're not the right Alex."

"I'm the right Alex. That's the trick." Alex grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'll tell him that I represent the army headquarters. That we suspected Alexander Carlyle, and I was sent here to search for his associates, in case anyone shows up. I'll tell him I've been waiting for him and the entire brother-impersonation charade was my idea. I forced you into it. I bet, he'll run away. He wouldn't want to get caught."

Rebecca stared at him with her mouth open, although his outrageous solution appealed to her. "You'll let him escape?"

He winced. "That's the only sour part. I'll try to catch him but I'm not sure I can. My leg is much better than it was a couple weeks ago, but I still can't run. More is the pity. It goes against my grain to let the traitor free, but we'll catch him later. I'll visit some friends in London. One of them is a major with the Horse Guard. I'll tell him an edited version—that I alone suspected Carlyle and wanted to discover his partners. That's why I came to New Oaks and impersonated your brother. Of course, I shouldn't have done that alone, I should've informed the army command, my fault, I'm sorry, I made a mistake, etc. They'd probably slap my wrists and let it go. And the Joshua chap would be their business from then on. You will tell the same story to all your neighbors while informing them of your brother's death. Blame me. I won't show up here after tomorrow. I'll sell some of your paintings, maybe a few watercolors, and rent a house for you in London, so you can pack up and leave. We'll celebrate Christmas in London. How about that?"

Rebecca shook her head in admiration. She couldn't resist his gleeful chuckling and smiled too. "It's such a beautiful tale, and almost true. I'd have loved it if I didn't worry about you so much. What if he kills you?"

"He won't," Alex said. "I have a secret weapon—my cane. I don't need it anymore, not much anyway, but I'll take it with me. I'll pretend to limp. I want him to underestimate me."

"Oh, Alex." Rebecca sighed. "I'll be sick with worry. At least take Tom, the footman, as a backup."

"No. Come here." Alex glanced around, noted the closed library door, and caught Rebecca in his arms. "Just a little something to keep me warm."

She melted against him, reveling in the taste of his lips against hers, at the firm muscles of his body under his clothing. He smelled of soap and man, and he shaved this morning. Her fingers caressed his smooth cheek. She opened her lips for his inquisitive tongue, closed her eyes, and simply enjoyed, until he pushed away.

Rebecca whimpered with distress. She wanted more. She opened her eyes and gazed into his blue ones, dark with desire. For her. He wanted more too, he wanted her, so she grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him back to her. This time, she started the kiss, and he eagerly obeyed her urging. It was strangely exhilarating to initiate such an intimate contact, until she realized what she had done and squeaked in alarm.

He released her, but his eyes and lips kept smiling. "Hold that thought, Rebecca," he murmured. "I have something for you, but it'll have to wait until tonight. Let's deal with the blackmailer first."

Rebecca tried to catch her breath, stolen by the long kiss. She blushed furiously but wouldn't stray from her goal. "If you insist on going, you'll put on lots of warm clothes," she said. "Several layers. And you take a flask of brandy to keep you warm."

Alex agreed to all her conditions, but no matter how carefree he looked when he set out, to meet the blackmailer in the ruins, she fretted. What if Joshua had another partner? What if Alex was wounded again? What if he fell sick from exposure?

She jumped, when thunder rolled in the distance. What if Alex was killed by lightning or broke his leg on the uneven stones of the ruins? The rain pounded on the windows of the library, as if trying to punch holes in the wooden shutters. Despite the crackling fire in the hearth, Rebecca was cold.

Several hours later, he still hadn't returned. When Mary opened the library door, Rebecca flinched.

"Rebecca?" Mary hastened in. "I've finished the French verbs and I've read the chapter you assigned. Why are you so pale? Are you feeling bad after yesterday? Are you sick?"

"No, no," Rebecca said. She needed to reassure her sister, both her sisters, especially after their yesterday's fright on her behalf, but she couldn't even produce a smile.

"Where is Alex?" Mary frowned. "I haven't seen him after breakfast."

"He had some business to attend to. He'll be back soon," Rebecca said. She hoped she sounded calm and mature. She hoped her voice didn't betray her rising anxiety.

"He went out in this weather? Did he take the buggy?"

"Who went out?" Emily piped in. "Alex? Why? It's raining outside."

The girls' questions felt like blows, each one making her heart bleed. She couldn't tell them the truth, not yet, none of it: neither about their brother's death, nor about the impersonation scheme, nor about the blackmail. Suddenly, she hated it, but the lies would have to stay in place until Alex left New Oaks. Until he was out of danger. Only then she would confess all to her neighbors and her sisters. Well, not all, but at least, Alex's version. He was right, it was the only line to take. It would put both him and herself in the best possible light, give them both noble motives. Wasn't she a worthy descendant of the legendary Sophronia, their inventive ancestress?

She snorted bitterly. She had never thought of herself as a liar, but obviously she was one, and a good one at that. She had deceived the entire district. Dissembling seemed so easy. She didn't even blush when she told her lies recently. Maybe she should start writing novels.

"How about tea and cakes?" she asked instead of answering her sisters' question.

They blithely agreed. They almost finished the full plate of small seed cakes, when the entrance door banged.

"Alex?" Emily shouted. Clutching a half-eaten cake, she skipped into the hall, Mary and Rebecca only a step behind.

Alex leaned on the closed door, dripping rain and smiling. He had a bruise on one cheek, and his lower lip was split and swollen, but his eyes shined. He met Rebecca's gaze above her sisters' heads and nodded imperceptibly.

"What happened to you?" Emily asked.

"I got into a scuffle," Alex replied easily. "Is that a cake I see? Can I have it? I'm hungry."

"You're in such trouble," Emily said seriously and offered him her unfinished cake. "Becky doesn't like it, when we get into scrapes."

Alex gobbled the cake. "Just the opposite, pumpkin." He ruffled her head. "I got out of a scrape. Are you having tea? Is there more for me?"

"I'll tell Mrs. Blake." Emily scampered to the kitchen.

"I'll just change out of these wet clothes and clean up. I'll be down in a moment." Swinging his cane nonchalantly, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

With her serious eyes disturbed, Mary turned to Rebecca. "Do you know what happened? He nodded at you."

Rebecca sighed. Mary was too perceptive. She kept forgetting that at thirteen, Mary was almost a grown woman. It wasn't as easy to dupe her anymore as it was with Emily.

"Yes, I know," Rebecca said. "I'll tell you tomorrow, after Alex tells me everything."

She had to wait for that until much later that night. After both younger girls went to bed, she finally corralled Alex in the privacy of the library and pried the information out of him.

"Spill!" she demanded. "You've been teasing me with your smirks for long enough."

"It worked like a charm," he said smugly. "Your Sophronia's talent for embroidering the truth must be catching. Whatever his name is, he didn't doubt my words for a moment."

"Then why do you have these bruises."

"That's nothing." Alex shrugged. "He did have a gun, but I had my cane. I must've broken his wrist when I hit him. The gun fell down and discharged, and the bullet went wide. We wrestled a bit, but I was never in danger. He tried to bluster his way out, but with one working hand, he couldn't hope to win a brawl, so he ran, and I didn't pursue. He must still be running. He was terrified, I can tell you. He didn't expect my news."

He sprawled in an armchair he had occupied when he first arrived at New Oaks and looked around with fondness. "I'll miss this place," he said unexpectedly.

Rebecca, sitting as usual behind her desk, smiled at him. "We'll make another home. You would always be welcome there."

"Oh, I hope so." He stood up abruptly and crossed the room to haul her up from behind the desk. Thrusting one hand into his pocket, he withdrew it and opened his palm. A ring with small rubies in a delicate little spiral winked at her. "I'm not up to kneeling yet, but... would you marry me, Rebecca? Even if I propose while standing on both feet?"

His last sentence sounded oddly unsure. Rebecca's smile widened. She glanced at him quickly from under her lashes, picked up the ring from his palm, and put it on her finger. "It's beautiful," she said happily. "Yes."

"You know that you're an heiress now, and I'm still a jobless retired officer. If the paintings sell even for a fraction of what the dealer told me, you and your sisters would be set for life."

"Alex. Without you, there wouldn't be any painting sales or money. I didn't know their worth. I'm still not sure it's the right thing to do. They belong to the estate, not to me."

"No, they don't. You checked the inventory. Neither Palonico's paintings nor his drawings are included."

"Yes, but it would be like stealing all the same."

"No, Rebecca. It's not stealing. Maybe the paintings didn't belong to the estate in truth. Maybe they belonged to a friend of a friend, and for some reason, he stored them here. And then, everyone in the know died without informing the lawyers. We don't know. Consider the Palonicos a redress for the stupid, archaic law of entail. You should be able to inherit something after your brother died. The paintings are your inheritance."

When he put it this way, it seemed only right to take the paintings. Rebecca nodded slowly. "Still, I wouldn't have known, if not for you. They belong to you as much as to me. We should divide them, half for you and half for us."

Alex cocked his head to one side. "How about a compromise? We divide them in four. We have four paintings, one for each of you and one for me. The girls could use them as dowries, when their time comes."

"All right," Rebecca agreed. "And no more talk about heiresses and poor soldiers."

"Agreed." Alex kissed her soundly on the lips. "To my future wife," he said. "Mrs. Alexis Woodward."

"Mrs. Woodward," Rebecca breathed. It sounded right, respectable. Nothing like frivolous Sophronia.

Alex caressed her cheek flittingly and pulled away. "As much as I want to kiss you senseless, or even do something else, totally inappropriate yet..."

His glowing eyes hinted at some pleasures Rebecca didn't yet know about but yearned to learn. Her breathing escalated, and she swayed towards him. The kiss was too short, much too short. They should kiss more.

"Not now, honey. Soon." His hand traveled from her cheek to her neck, brushed fleetingly across her breast, and withdrew. He sighed regretfully. "You're delightful, but we have work to do. The wagon I hired in London should be here at midnight. I don't want the servants to witness us removing the paintings, just in case. I don't want the lawyers getting wind of it. Let's get the paintings out of the attic, swap the two Palonicos here for the other two landscapes, and then we'll wrap the Palonicos and store them in the wagon. Tomorrow morning, I'll leave for London with the wagon."

"You should take a few watercolors as well. They might be faster to sell, so you'll have some ready cash to rent a house."

"Fine. You take the rest of the portfolio and hide it in your traveling chest."

Rebecca nodded.

Lugging several large paintings in their sturdy frames out of the attic and maneuvering them in the narrow staircase, with some risers broken and others creaking like crazy, would've been an onerous task even in broad daylight. At night, trying not to make any noise, it became a logistic nightmare, but in the end, they managed. They swapped the paintings on the walls, wrapped and stored the Palonicos in the wagon, and even had a nice little snuggle in the library before Alex had to leave at dawn.

"You won't tell goodbye to the girls?" Rebecca asked, as they hugged on the doorstep. The servants were not up yet, and the moist air was pearly gray and bitterly cold. Although the rain had stopped during the night, the wagon driver grumbled irritably, eager to be off, his lamp swaying gently on its hook.

"No," Alex said. "You tell them goodbye for me. They would probably be mad at me for the deception, but I'll ask their forgiveness when they are in London. We'll get married soon, so I'll be their brother again, this time in truth."

Rebecca clung to him, her eyes stinging from tears.

"We'll see each other in no time, Rebecca," he said softly. "I'll send you a letter when I have a place ready for you. Pack and wait. Tell everyone what we agreed upon, and blame everything on me." With one last possessive kiss, he climbed into the wagon, the driver flicked the reins, and the wagon dissolved into the morning mist, as if it had been a figment of her imagination all along.

Rebecca shivered on the threshold but didn't close the door, not yet. She stared into the mist, as if her gaze held a string connecting her and Alex. If she closed the door, it would cut the string, sever their link. Stupid woman, she berated herself. She had his ring. He had proposed. They would be married soon. Why did she feel this vague foreboding? She should put an end to this irrational, maudlin feeling. She had never been mawkish. Happy ending was coming for them all. She was simply tired from the lack of sleep. Resolutely, Rebecca shrugged off her inexplicable distress and closed the door.