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was thinking, and he put milk in her tea all the same and handed it to her as though she hadn't said anything about it at all! And she drank it without another word, hoping that he would never know she hated lemon tea. But she wouldn't have put it past him to know everything there was to know about her!
    'Next week,' he confirmed. 'I'll make all the arrangements and let you know.'
    CHAPTER THREE
    They were married early on the Tuesday morning. Hero had rejected all thought of a church wedding out of hand with a fierceness that had surprised nobody as much as herself. She had thought that nothing mattered to her any more, and to find that there were some things that did and, what was more, mattered very much to her, was rather shattering. It had become more and more impossible to discuss anything sensibly with Mr. Carmichael as the week had progressed and there were some things she knew she had to make clear to him before she actually became his wife because, afterwards, he might not give her any say in such things, and then it would be too late to stand by the ideals she had held all her life long.
    She hadn't chosen her moment for this confrontation very well. Benedict was in a hurry and she felt a perfect fool. Really, the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous she felt. 'It won't be a real marriage,' she accosted him, meeting him in the doorway of Betsy's parents' house and realizing that, for once, they were alone. 'I couldn't agree to that!'
    He studied his hands in silence for a long moment, his eyelashes well displayed beneath the brim of his hat. Looking at him, Hero was overcome by sheer panic at the thought of him wanting a more normal relationship
    - but then he wouldn't. Though she wished she could be more certain of that, for he looked as though he were well used to having his own way with any woman he chose, and the fact that he loved some other girl wouldn't help her much when she was alone with him, miles from anywhere.
    'Mr. Carmichael, you do understand, don't you?' she said.
    'Better than you think.'
    She sighed with relief. 'I knew you would! Only I thought it better to have it spelt out, if you know what I mean.'
    'I should prefer it if you could bring yourself to call me Benedict, though,' he said dryly.
    'Yes, of course.'
    'You don't dislike it as a name, do you?'
    'Oh no! I like it very much. I've never known a Benedict before. It's a very distinguished name!'
    He reached out and touched a strand of her short, curly hair. Oddly, she didn't mind the rather intimate gesture. 'I've never known a Hero before either,' he said. 'Have you any more worries about the wedding?'
    She made a face at him. 'Only what I'm going to wear!'
    He smiled then. 'I rather fancy having my bride wear something white and pretty,' he suggested.
    'Oh, but—'
    'I know, but only we know about that. Won't you wear white for me, Hero?'
    'If you like,' she agreed abruptly. Then she thought that sounded rather ungracious because he was trying to be nice to her and there was no one to see them at that moment. 'I'll try to look nice for you!'
    He bowed mockingly over her hand. 'What do you want me to wear? You don't seem to admire my ex's taste in shirts. A suit?'
    'Well, yes, to both,' she said. 'Benedict, could you wear a plain shirt? I mean, it would look better with me in white. And an ordinary tie, you know, not too bright, or nobody will notice the flower in your lapel?'
    He looked amused. 'I'll do my best,' he promised. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, nor did he show any signs of telling her what they were going to do after the wedding, and somehow she found it quite impossible to
    ask him anything at all.
    'Ten o'clock on Tuesday, Hero,' he said as he was leaving. 'You will be there, won't you?'
    'Yes.' She tried to enlarge on that one, bald syllable, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.
    'We'll go on to the lawyer from there and get everything sewn up legally,' he went on casually. 'I've already told