“I think I shall marry you for the gloves you will buy me,” Emily said, raising her head and looking in his eyes. “Will you deny me gloves?” She took one ink-tipped finger and pressed it against his mouth. There were tears on her cheeks.

Lucien pulled out the two pins that held her cap. “Where is Mr. Ewing?” He tossed the scrap of lace onto the floor.

“There was no Mr. Ewing,” she admitted at last. “I was afraid when we came to London. I thought we would be safer if I appeared to be a widow. So. I am accepting your offer of marriage. Will you play the reprobate and withdraw your offer?”

It seemed to be out of his hands. Lucien bent his head and Emily kissed him first.

She had made the most foolish, most irrational decision of her life, and happiness was singing in her heart. She had agreed to marry a man whom she had known a scant few months. She knew nothing about him—nothing.

Nothing and everything.

“Perhaps you are right,” she said teasingly. “Perhaps I should weigh your offer against Mr. Hislop’s. Of course, I am not entirely certain that his offer is for marriage, precisely.”

Lucien pulled her tightly against him.

“I’ll run him through if he touches you,” he said, surprising himself with his vehemence.

“Then I shall marry you to save Mr. Hislop.” Emily laughed. “And to support my favorite glover.”

“You will marry me because you love me,” Lucien said. There was only a tremor of a question in his voice.

Emily’s lips trembled under his. “Because I love you,” she whispered. “And…because you love me, Lucien.”

He held her so tightly that she could feel the imprint of his buttons through her gown and chemise. “I do,” he said finally. “God help me, Emily, but I do love you.”

THE RECEPTION FOR Kao Rasi Holkar, heir to the Holkar throne, was held at East India House in Leadenhall Street. Lord Breksby was at his most genial as his carriage turned into Leadenhall.

Gabby sat next to Quill in silence, wondering whether it would be horribly gauche to slip her hand into his. She was nervous about the evening ahead of them. Then, when they were almost there, his large hand enclosed hers, and a warm glow lit her heart.

The East India Company had spared no expense for the reception. The small stone courtyard was lined with riflemen wearing gaudy uniforms and strange flat caps. As the party entered, they all snapped to attention, holding their rifles very straight. Gabby shivered and hurried past.

The walls of the entrance hall were lined with glass cabinets. Gabby drifted over to one as a footman took her pelisse. Inside was a collection of jeweled birds, studded with rubies and garnets.