She had seen him with fair frequency. She had even danced with him on rare occasions, always for country dances or quadrilles, never for the waltz. And he had never shown the slightest hint of recognition or even a gleam of interest in her. Margaret had borne it all in patient silence. Only Charlotte had guessed that she had had an unhappy love experience in her past, and Charlotte thought the whole painful situation unutterably romantic.

And now, by some bizarre twist of fate, Brampton had chosen her for his bride. Margaret was in no doubt of the reason. A nobleman in his thirties, who had a reputation as a habitual womanizer, could have only one possible reason for wanting to marry a virtual stranger. He wanted children to secure his line. Like other men of his type, he would turn elsewhere for love, and she would be expected to act as if she did not know or care. Margaret suppressed a sob of despair.

But at least she would have part of him. She would share his name. She would live with him and see him daily. She would finally, after six long years, find out what it was like to be in bed with him. Margaret, even at the age of twenty-five, was still not quite sure what happened between a man and a woman in bed, but she remembered quite clearly what had started to happen to her body when he had caressed her with expert lips and tongue and hands.

Margaret shivered and sighed. And finally she closed her eyes and slept deeply.

Chapter 2

Richard and Margaret Adair, Earl and Countess of Brampton, sat side by side on the comfortable green velvet seat of his traveling couch. They had been wed that morning and were on their way to the earl's chief seat, Brampton Court in Hampshire, for their honeymoon. They sat now in silence, their forced and stilted conversation having flickered to an end an hour before. Margaret had her eyes closed and pretended to sleep.