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man, I will not interfere provided you conduct the affair discreetly. I have already taken steps to ensure that none of the servants gossip outside this castle and I think we shall be all right. Is that clear?”
    I stared at him. “Perfectly clear. A marriage in appearance only. You must have windmills in your head! I refuse. Of what benefit is it to save my reputation if I am riveted to you?”
    He flushed. “You will have every freedom except marriage to someone else. And after ... after ... you are not marriageable anyway. You will have security and be well placed in the ton. I will not inflict myself on you more than is absolutely necessary. After a year or two, we may contrive to rarely find ourselves in the same place together. I have a house in London that will be at your disposal.”
    “I see. That’s all very well but what are you going to do the next time this happens? You won’t be able to marry the poor girl.”
    “Damn you, shut up!” he shouted. I backed away as he came toward me. “There will not be a next time. If I have any affairs, they will be discreetly conducted with women whom I choose personally and who are quite willing. I assure you that not everyone finds me abhorrent.”
    “Not everyone knows you as well as I do,” I said sweetly.
    He stood still. “You don’t know me at all. No, don’t say it. You—”
    I do not know what he was about to add, for at that moment someone knocked. “Yes, who is it?” Sir Leslie called, without taking his eyes from my face.
    “The vicar, Sir Leslie,” Mrs. Morgan called.
    “Show him in,” Sir Leslie replied.
    As the doors opened I ran to Mrs. Morgan. “Will you explain to Sir Leslie that I cannot marry him?” I said.
    “Now child,” she said soothingly, “ye must marry him. ’Tis a good marriage. Why, else ye could not marry at all, and less marry as well.”
    I was stunned by her defection. The vicar was already standing by the desk and now Mrs. Morgan and another servant (Sir Leslie’s valet, I later learned) shepherded me to Sir Leslie’s side. The vicar regarded me kindly as he began the marriage service. I held quiet until it came to be time for my response. “I will not,” I said calmly and clearly.
    I felt Sir Leslie about to speak, but the vicar forestalled him. “Child,” he said gently, “is it true that you’re not a virgin; that Sir Leslie ravished you?”
    I nodded. He gave me a pitying smile. “The bride assents,” he said and continued with the service.
    Shocked, I could not protest. I did not hear the rest of the words of the service and scarcely felt the ring being placed on my finger. Then I was signing something. It did not matter. There was nothing I could do. I should never be free. Then I was alone in the library with the vicar. “My dear Heather,” he said, “You must accept this marriage. You are very, very lucky. Sir Leslie is an honourable man. I know you have had a shock and this is not the best way to begin a marriage. But others have started worse and been happy. Accept Sir Leslie and your marriage. In time, too, children will help to ease matters. In the joys of motherhood you will find—”
    “Motherhood? Children?” I repeated. Then angrily, I said, “No! No children. Sir Leslie promised. I won’t! I won’t!”
    “Calm yourself, child,” he said hastily. “Of course there is no need to consider such things now. But in time—”
    “Go away,” I said through clenched teeth.
    “Go away? But—”
    “Please?” I said. “Please? I need to be alone.”
    Worried, he rang for a servant. Sir Leslie appeared at the doorway. I heard him say, “Take her to her room.”
    A hand guided my elbow as, dazed, I returned to my chamber. Inside, I threw myself on the bed and wept. Of all the fantasies I had ever had of my marriage, none approached the actual event. I had always assumed I would marry for love or at the very least, a man for whom I felt the proper regard. But this! I was truly trapped