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  The maid led Elise through a double-door in the hall into a richly furnished room and gestured for her to sit on the red-velvet settee, which she declined. Giving a shallow curtsey, the maid disappeared through the doorway in the back of the room.

  Elise had forced her way in there, but now that she awaited Owen Amory, her stomach felt as though busy bees were trying to escape. Celia's father was behind this awful loan business—the very same Celia who had long since escaped enceinte with some man's babe to the continent, Celia who had tried to trap Reed into marriage, Celia who had changed her brother from a jovial, light-hearted youth into a reserved, mistrustful man; Celia Amory, whom Elise's father had made disappear after her father had threatened Reed's law career.

  Reed would be livid if he knew she was in the Amory house.

  "Well, well, well," said a male voice.

  When Elise turned, it was not the senior Amory she saw, but his son, who had gone to Dane Law School at Harvard a few years before Reed. She searched her memory for his given name but came up blank.

  "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Miss Malloy?" No one had ever made the word pleasure sound less pleasant.

  She didn't answer his question. "You are Owen Amory's son, are you not?"

  He flashed a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I am." He gave a little click of his heels as if he'd been in the military though she was fairly certain he had not and offered a slight bow of his head that did not in any way represent a nod of respect. Then he looked her boldly in the eye. "I am Jonathan Amory, at your service."

  She doubted that. He was exuding anything but servitude.

  "Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Amory. I expected to meet with your father."

  "We did not expect you at all," Jonathon retorted. "Or I assure you, he would have been up and ready, and we would have had a tea tray laid out for such a lovely lady."

  Despite the compliment, the expression in his eyes did not soften.

  "Won't you have a seat?" he asked.

  At that moment, after a light tap on the door, a different maid came in carrying a silver tea service. Elise sighed. The niceties had begun. If only they could speak plainly, but no, they had to sip tea and dance around the subject until one of them gave in.

  She took a seat, allowing the maid to pour the infernal tea that she despised, and then she took a shortbread biscuit from the tray. After a few moments of imbibing and nibbling had taken place, they both set their saucers and cups back down on the tray.

  "I am sorry to come uninvited, Mr. Amory, and it may be that I need to speak to your father in any case, if you are not privy to a certain arrangement between my father and yours."

  He barely blinked. "Of course I am apprised of the arrangement," he said, his voice cold despite the small smile he tried to bestow.

  "Then you must know why I am here."

  "I assure you, I do not."

  She refrained from sighing again. "There is the matter of the loan," she said.

  "That was your father's problem," he said at once, brushing a crumb from his lap.

  She tightened her jaw at his dismissal. "As you are well aware, my father is deceased."

  "Then it is your mother's problem. Why bother us now?" he asked.

  "If you are privy to the matter at hand, then you must be aware that the bank's payment requests have been coming to this address and not to my home."

  He sniffed. "The agreement my father had was with your father; it became null and void in my estimation at your father's demise."

  Cold-hearted bastard, she thought. "And that agreement was what, precisely?"

  He pursed his lips.

  "If you won't elaborate, then I must insist on speaking with Mr. Amory, senior."

  "He is indisposed."

  She sighed. How convenient. Stonewalling was such an annoying tactic.

  "I assume all this has to do with your sister," she surmised.

  Jonathon stiffened visibly.

  Elise continued, "Obviously this is related to my father stepping in to make sure that neither Celia nor your father harassed my brother any further."

  Jonathon Amory's jaw clenched. "The agreement was intended to do right by my sister with whom your brother had amorous congress, may I remind you. And she was with child."

  "But not my brother's."

  "So you say." Jonathon crossed his arms and leaned back against the settee.

  "So my brother said, and he never, ever lies," Elise asserted. "Can you say the same of your sister?"

  He flinched as if she'd slapped him.

  "Your brother would not have been in the pickle he found himself if he had not laid hands on Celia."

  "Agreed," she said. There was no doubt that Reed had chosen the wrong young woman with whom to dally. But Celia had had more hands than only Reed's on her, and that was what had got her into trouble. She was carrying someone else's baby when she'd decided Reed was going to pay the price.

  "When your father started making threats," Elise continued, trying to keep her tone as businesslike as possible, "my father did what exactly?"

  Jonathon sighed as if there was no point in prevaricating any longer. "He offered to pay for her passage to the continent and for a small flat in Paris."

  At least they were finally getting to the meat of the matter, but Elise couldn't help shaking her head. "What about the man whom she eventually confessed was father to her babe?"

  Jonathon gave a shudder. "He is out of the picture completely."

  Elise decided not to pursue that unsavory business. "But why did my father...?" She trailed off.

  "At the time," Jonathon said, "my father would not spend a dime to help Celia. He was too outraged, and rightly so. Though he would bully to get her a husband, he would only ship her off to Paris with your father's money."

  Elise nodded. Her dear father. Evidently, Oliver Malloy would have done anything to protect his son's career, which would have undoubtedly suffered; Reed's whole reputation would have been sullied if word had got out of his dalliance with Celia Amory. Even with the child not being his, he would have been tainted.

  Jonathon uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "In a moment of weakness, my father agreed to pay the money back over time because, ultimately, Celia was his burden. However, with his position at the bank, he didn't want his name associated with the loan."

  "My brother does not know about this arrangement," Elise said, more to herself than to Jonathon Amory.

  "I suppose not."

  No, because Reed would not have allowed their father to do it if he could have stopped him. Oliver Malloy, having three daughters of his own, had probably felt sorry for the motherless girl with a father who refused to pay to remove her from the country, not even to give her back some scrap of a life.

  "Your father was dutifully paying the loan back and then stopped. Why?" Elise pressed.

  Jonathon Amory shrugged. "Your father died and that was the end of it."

  That was most certainly not the end of it! "There is still a substantial amount left on the loan. And it was a grave oversight to simply let the payments lapse. Your father defaulted, and the bank wants our home."

  Amory sniffed and could not have possibly looked less concerned.

  "I guess you shall have to tell your brother, at last, that there was a steep price to his using Celia as his whore."

  Elise gasped. "He did no such thing. He loved your sister."

  Jonathon shrugged. "As I said, this arrangement was between your father and mine. And my father is no longer willing to pay for Celia's mistakes. She has had no contact with us anyway since she went to France."

  "I cannot believe any man of Owen Amory's standing would behave thusly."

  Jonathan's mouth tightened. "My father is old and has not been entirely well, and he is not going to keep sinking money month after month to pay off this debt. That is final."

  Elise stood up, unable to remain seated in his company. "Someone should have told my family a year ago, when
it was a monthly sum and not a huge single payment that could cripple us."

  He rose to his feet. "This conversation is at an end, Miss Malloy. Please don't return. If you do, I'll go straight to your brother."

  "So you are washing your hands of your sister?"

  He laughed with no mirth. "You mean will I pay off this debt? Absolutely not. I was only two years ahead of your brother at Harvard, and our careers have been quite similar. Our finances are probably equal. I did not enjoy the affair. Why should I pay for it?"

  Why, indeed? Jonathon had spoken the truth, except that Reed's career had far outshone his; in fact, if anyone was in a better financial situation, it was no doubt her brother.

  She shook her head. "I hope your father will reconsider. It seems as though he was acting quite honorably up until the time that mine died."

  "Honorably or foolishly, that all depends on how you look at it. If your father wanted to finance Celia's emigration, that was his business. However, I do suggest you keep everything quiet, Miss Malloy."

  "And why is that? It seems that your father's defaulting on a gentleman's agreement could only reflect poorly on your family, not on mine."

  "If word gets out that Oliver Malloy took out a loan to pay off my sister, no one will ever believe that Reed didn't father Celia's child, will they?" He gave her a sneer of a smile.

  She would not dignify his threat with a response. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the Amory parlor and their house in short order.

  Driving home, she could not entirely fault the son. Why should he pay for the sins of the father or the sister? On the other hand, why should she, her mother, and her sisters pay for Celia either?

  Reed had been hurt and duped and then left with nothing but a hardened heart. And she swore on her father's soul that none of this would ever reach her brother's ears.

  * * *

  Saturday arrived so quickly, Elise felt as if the world were turning faster than usual. It wasn't the most exciting of parties, not something she usually looked forward to with more than a wearisome agreement to accompany her mother and sisters. However, knowing she would see Michael again made her eager for the appointed hour.

  Dressing with care in a burgundy gown of rich taffeta, scooped low and very full in the back, she had the maid help to dress her hair in a graceful chignon. Lastly, putting on her favorite dancing slippers, she anticipated a gratifying evening.

  The trickiest part was arriving early enough so she could spot Ethan Nickerson and have a private chat with him. Urging her sisters and mother to arrive promptly rather than fashionably late was taxing, but finally, she told them she might be developing a headache.

  "We'd best get there with haste," she said, putting fingers to her temple, "if we are to have any time for socializing at all. Once my headache blooms, we shall have to leave."

  She was already tense from deceiving her family. Almost certainly, Reed, though back from Maine, would not attend. He didn't like this sort of social affair, too preyed upon by hopeful young women. She fervently hoped he would not have a change of heart—for with certainty, Reed would take one look at her encouraging Mr. Nickerson and demand an explanation. And if Michael showed up and started talking to Reed, that would be even worse.

  Luckily, she spotted her quarry almost immediately; Elise left her sisters and mother still checking their coats and hurried toward him.

  The older gentleman seemed to watch her approach first with an interested and then with an astonished expression spreading over his craggy face.

  "Miss Malloy," he greeted her with a nod. "I hope you are well."

  Taking a deep breath, she gave him what she hoped was a winsome smile. It wasn't his fault that he didn't make her pulse jump, not the way simply looking at Michael caused her heart to race. Why hadn't she accepted the banker's invitation to dinner? Why did she have to be so proud?

  "Mr. Nickerson, I'm glad to run into you. What a happy fluke."

  "Not such a happenchance meeting, Miss Malloy." He gave her a curious look. "My secretary said you spoke with him directly to inquire whether I'd be in attendance."

  Drat! She blushed.

  "True," she said. "I admit," only because she'd been caught, "that I hoped to see you here. It has been too long since you were in our home and in my company."

  He smiled cautiously. He was no fool, and she felt a pang of guilt.

  She was about to place her hand on his arm and flutter her dark eyelashes as she had seen Rose do when she saw Nickerson look past her, over her right shoulder. Expecting to see her mother and sisters, Elise turned to find Jonathon Amory standing close by as if waiting to speak with her.

  She frowned. He was interrupting her desperate attempt to get a suitor, and the last thing she wanted to do was discuss the bank loan while her family was close by. She turned her back on him.

  "Miss Malloy," came his voice, proving him to be even closer than he'd been a moment before, "may I have the favor of a word with you?"

  She took a deep breath and glanced at him again. He didn't appear as if he was leaving any time soon. She cast a rueful look at Nickerson.

  "Excuse me. I'll be back in due course." She curtsied low, gave him another dazzling smile, and followed Amory.

  They walked toward a deserted section of the room, next to a drafty window, a potted plant, and fortunately, a table of glasses brimming with citrus rum punch. She took one and sipped delicately. Delicious. She took another taste. He watched her in silence. She didn't have time for this.

  "Yes, Mr. Amory. What more can you wish to say? After our last meeting, I didn't expect to speak with you again, except perhaps in court."

  He smiled tightly, yet he seemed somehow different, less hostile than when she'd bearded him in his home earlier in the week.

  "I've been considering your visit."

  She allowed a flurry of hope to dance through her brain. Perhaps he would pay off the bank loan, and that problem, at least, would be settled.

  "I may have been somewhat short with you," he said, his tone far more agreeable than it had previously been.

  In her estimation, he had rushed straight past 'short' and stopped at 'rude.' She sipped again and found it quelled her unease.

  Then Amory added, "I hope my family has not caused your widowed mother any discomfit."

  Well, if Elise had actually told her mother, then—

  "I think I have come up with a solution that will bring us both satisfaction," he offered.

  "Very well, Mr. Amory. I'm listening."

  She was listening and drinking the scrumptious punch, and only half-noticed that his gaze swept her from head to toe.

  "I think we should be married," he said at last.

  Elise didn't mean to, but somehow she found herself spraying the front of his suit coat with the punch she was about to swallow. Coughing and choking at the same time, she felt tears roll down her cheeks as she tried to breathe.

  While she regained her composure, her would-be fiancé waited, gingerly wiping at his jacket with a handkerchief though failing to offer her one.

  "I beg your pardon," Elise said when she had caught her breath.

  "It is all right," he said. "I'm sure my man servant can clean it. And tonight, no one will notice after it dries."

  "No, Mr. Amory. I mean, I beg your pardon, did you just ask me to marry you?"

  "Yes, I did."

  "Whatever for?" That sounded impolite, but his question, out of the blue, was beyond the pale.

  "If you were my wife," he said in a hushed tone, "I would pay the balance owed to the bank. I certainly wouldn't let my wife's mother lose her home."

  "And why would you want to do this?"

  He shrugged. "I ought to have a wife at my age, though I will admit to having been extremely unmotivated to acquire one until now. But you're available, reasonably attractive," he added, scanning her once more, "from a good family—except for your brother's youthful indiscretion with my sister—and you seem to have
a sound mind."

  She nodded at his words until he mentioned her brother, though he was right even about that.

  "Our families are known to each other," he added.

  That was an understatement. She could only imagine Reed's reaction if she were to announce who her new father-in-law would be, not to mention having Celia as a sister-in-law.

  "What would your father say to such an arrangement?" she asked.

  "He'd be happy to see his only son married at last and, of course, produce an actual heir, not some French bastard."

  She shivered. Maybe the idea had merit. But produce an heir with Jonathon Amory? Have amorous congress with him? Goodness! She took his measure, looking at him again with new eyes. She had not a sliver of interest though he was not ugly. He was, in fact, rather handsome, if you appreciate boyish good looks. But he was not Michael Bradley.

  As if she'd conjured him with her thoughts, she noticed the dashing banker had arrived and was making the rounds of the room. She went to take another sip of her punch only to find her glass was empty, so she set it down and picked up another one.

  Michael Bradley halted his progress to stand and speak with Mr. Nickerson, and to her horror, they were looking toward her and Jonathon. There was only one thing Elise could do, knowing the duration of the deception would be temporary, perhaps a single day, two at the most.

  "Fine, I accept." She took a swig of her punch and stuck out her free hand for him to shake on the deal as she'd seen her brother do.

  Jonathon stared at her hand then clasped it. Just at that moment, Michael approached.

  "Mr. Bradley," she said, turning to him and feeling more delighted than she ought to. She had no hand to offer him, so she nodded slightly and sipped her drink. The room was becoming so warm despite it not yet being crowded. Then she spied her mother talking to Mr. Nickerson and glancing at her. Why had the old coot become the center of attention?

  Then it dawned on her that she'd have to tell her mother the same lie that she was going to tell Michael. She felt heat rising to her cheeks and knew she must be exceedingly flushed. She tugged her hand free from Jonathon's grasp.