He put his arm along the mantel and stared into the cold fireplace. "You're quite worldly about it, I see," he said with a tight smile. "And here I've been saving myself like some boy virgin."

She gave him a doubtful look. "I beg your pardon?"

He leaned on his fist. "To answer your question— yes, I've had other opportunities," he said brusquely. "Yes, I've taken some up. But something always stopped me in the breach. I don't know if you can understand that. I don't know that I understood it myself until lately. But I seem to be yours, Callie. Body and soul." He didn't sound as if it made him happy. "I will be till I die."

She stood silent, turning the words over in her mind as if they were a strange device that she could not find the key to understand. With a shy move, she looked away and caught a glimpse of both of them in the mirror on her dressing table. Herself, with red hair and a high-colored complexion—if not quite dread fully plain, then certainly with no particular beauty— and him, watching her in the glass, dark-eyed and masculine, exceptionally handsome by any measure.

The f lush on her cheeks deepened. She felt strange to herself, mortified and confused. "I don't see how that can be true," she whispered.

"No," he said. His mouth was grim. "No, you can't, because all you can see is what's in that mirror. So! Eh bien! Sell yourself to Sturgeon. I'll be removing to France in any event," he added, "where I'll find myself some vintner who'll overcome his republican scruples so that his daughter can call herself a duchesse. And everything will be très conven able, n'est-ce pas?"

"You're mine?" she asked in a faint voice, still bemused by his words.

"I'll do my best to overcome the sentiment, so do not concern yourself about it." He thrust his hands in his pockets. "Ah, and here is your key." He withdrew the key and tossed it onto her dressing table. "I found nothing amiss with the books. They conform to the bank ledgers perfectly, so no hope that the good major can be dissuaded from his engagement to marry your fortune."

She picked up the key and turned it over in her palm, looking down at it. "Did you wish to dissuade him?"

"No such thing," he said in a curt voice. "I merely wanted to satisfy myself as to who had blackmailed him. But it remains a mystery, and I daresay it always will now. Since Mrs. Fowler has managed to locate me, and you've all these assistant secretaries running haphazardly about the house, I don't think I'll tarry here much longer."

"I don't understand you. If you weren't married—if you never loved her—then why—" She clenched her fist on the key. "Why did you do such a thing for her?"