Lady Sophia Beckett experienced a jumble of emotions -- joy, astonishment, confusion. It was a credit to her upbringing and strength of mind that to all appearances she promenaded free of care with the tall gentleman at her side. It was not apparent to the assembled company that they both were seeking the privacy of a secluded alcove or withdrawing room.

She was aware that she was smiling, like an automaton, at acquaintances and friends and that her companion was also. She had eagerly anticipated this ball for this Season, with Napoleon exiled and all the heroes of the conflict in London, promised to be more exciting than any the ton had seen. The only thing the Season had lacked was the presence of the man she loved, and now inexplicably he was here where, as far as she knew, he had no right and no reason to be.

The ball, the ton, and all its appurtenances faded from her consciousness as she and the man she knew as Gabriel withdrew, discreetly and cautiously, into an ante-chamber of the ballroom.

She broke free of her companion so soon as the door closed upon their entry. She confronted him, surprise and concern mingled with the joy she always experienced at being in his company.

"Gabriel! What are you doing here? When I last saw you a week since you made no mention of coming to London. How come you to have an invitation to this ball? And such a vast acquaintance among the ton? And such clothes?" Her silk and ivory fan, clutched in her slim gloved hands, gave an ominous cracking. Her tension had been too much for its slender sticks.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here, Maria Beckett? And how can you wear a gown that must have cost a hundred guineas?" The tall young man stared at her from polished silver eyes that gleamed with confusion and consternation.

Sophia's high-waisted gown of British blue silk had cost considerably more than one hundred guineas, but his error was the least of her worries. "I don't understand!" She pressed her slim fingers to her temples, disarranging the fair hair that was threaded by a blue and golden filet. She stared at the exquisitely tailored coat that molded his broad shoulders.

"You lied!" he accused her, thrusting a hand through his dark hair.

"You lied," she retorted.

The accusations hung like an icy chill between them. Then with a sudden melting it was gone, and the love that had bound them together since their first meeting surged to the forefront. The joy that always attended them in each other's presence blossomed.

Gabriel stretched a long arm and urged Sophia to a nearby settee. He sank to one knee before her.

"Yes, I did lie. I confess it freely," he said. "When I came upon you in Tunbridge Wells in the rain, you were soaking wet, bedraggled and towing that ridiculous dog. I think I fell in love in an instant. But I was certain my station was well above yours and that I could only appear insincere if I thrust my attentions upon you. I had to meet you as an equal."

"And I was convinced that my own station was above yours! You displayed nothing of elevated status. You had that urchin in train; your trowsers were muddied, your coat torn. I was certain you must be a tutor. I could only think to prevaricate so that I might see you again."

They stared into each other's wondering eyes; their hands reached out and clung. Gabriel rose to seat himself at her side. She turned to more fully look into his face, and marvel at his expression.

"I am Lady Sophia Maria Beckett," she said. "You see, the name I gave you was true, though I omitted the first portion of it. My father is Viscount Cissbury. It was my grandmother's lapdog that I led, but my grandmother is the Dowager Lady Cissbury. She was taking the waters at Tunbridge Wells. You will understand why I could not invite Gabriel Penton, tutor, to my home."

"Gabriel Joseph Blackwell Penton, Viscount Ryland," he said with a rueful smile. "My father's the Earl of Alcester."

Sophia's rose-red lips quivered. Then she burst into a torrent of giggles. After a silent moment, he joined in her laughter.

"All our little deceptions; the shifts we went to -- we met in parks, the Rocks--," she gurgled. "We convinced each other of the need for secrecy."

"Remember the corner by the snuff shop in the Pantiles?" he said. "A cosy spot that."

She recalled allowing him a kiss there, and blushed becomingly. "And all the time I was in agonies trying to think how we might...might be together despite the difference in our stations."

"And I was wondering if my father would have an apoplexy if I brought home a lady's companion for my wife." He shook his head. "And knowing I loved you so much, I almost had no care for the old gentleman."

They paused in their catalogue of remembrances, and exchanged a deep, thoughtful look. His arm slipped around her waist and her hand flew to his cheek.

"Who was that little boy?" she asked suddenly, taking him unaware.

He uttered a crack of laughter. "One of my nephews. I was visiting m'sister, Aurelia Lady Latheron. Tutor seemed as good a disguise as any."

"Why have we never met in town before? This will be my third Season..."

"I left England before you were out. Two years in the Peninsula, two in America. I arrived home and sold out in February. This is my first Season in five years."

"A soldier? Good God, Gabriel, you might have been killed before ever we met."

His response was to tighten his arm and bring his other to join it, folding her close to his chest.
"Kiss me then, just on the horrible thought of it."

She obeyed him and was floating in a tide of sensation when a snort, indignant and unmistakable to Gabriel, interrupted their idyll.

"Thought you'd have got out of the habit of skulking in ante-chambers, boy," the Earl of Alcester growled. He was staring at the slender, lovely woman in his son's arms.

"You have still excellent taste, however," Alcester added.

"Father, before you go too far, I think you should meet my affianced wife." Ryland rose and drew Sophia up with him to stand in the circle of his arm.

"Gabriel!" She half-heartedly protested his declaration of a betrothal that did not exist.

"Ain't you Cissbury's eldest daughter? Well, I'm damned. Good sense from my heir after all. Hah, I've known Cissbury these thirty years. I shall go and seek him out. And you had better get back to the ballroom, both of you. This won't do, betrothal or no."

"Father, if you find Lord Cissbury, bring him here will you? I haven't actually spoken to him as yet, asked for Ma...Sophia's hand."

"Trust you to do the thing backward. Yes, I'll find him." The older man bustled away, after a brisk nod.

"Gabriel, you have no need to wed me." Sophia hesitated. "In Tunbridge Wells, there was no commitment between us, no compromise. It could remain our secret."

"After the kisses you gave me -- not only at the Pantiles but in the park under that horse chestnut tree -- you are most certainly compromised." He teased her with mock horror, then sobered. "The only reason I did not ask 'Maria Beckett' to wed me was because I feared she would refuse me on discovering my lies."

"We've known each other only six weeks."

"Nearer seven; precisely fifty days. And it took me no more than one to realize I wished to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I was not so quick. It was a week before I realized I could never let you go," she admitted. She was dazzled by the ardour in his silver eyes. "Oh Gabriel, I wondered where I had seen such eyes as yours before. You have them from the earl!"

Gabriel did not respond but bent to her lips calling forth a response that delighted him while it strained his control.

They were locked in a close embrace when the door opened unceremoniously. Viscount Cissbury and the Earl of Alcester crowded the opening.

"What's all this?" Cissbury demanded surveying his eldest daughter cradled against the broad chest of Viscount Ryland.

"A match," roared the Earl of Alcester and clapped his old friend on the shoulder. "A match between our families."

"Only if I have opportunity to speak with Sophia!" Ryland released his love and strode to the door. "Please gentlemen, step outside. Have a glass of champagne and allow me a moment
with Lady Sophia."

The two proud parents permitted themselves to be shepherded into the corridor. With a raised finger, Ryland summoned a footman and instructed him to bring wine for Lords Alcester and Cissbury.

Then he returned within the ante-chamber.

Sophia stood near the silk-hung window. Gabriel crossed the chamber in quick strides and gathered her hands in his.

"Sophia, I love you. Will you..." He was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door.

Lord Cissbury poked his head around its edge. "You have my blessing, Ryland," he said, nodding to his daughter. "Thought you might like to know that, Sophy, before you made your reply." He withdrew and banged the door closed.

"Thank you, Papa," Sophia said, though her father did not hear. She hovered on the brink of laughter once more.

"Will you marry me?" Gabriel managed to say, but with a suggestion of gritted teeth.

"I would marry you if you were in truth a tutor," Sophia said. "I would marry you in spite of your father, and mine; in defiance of convention, society, and precept. In point of fact, I rather regret we have no such challenges to overcome."

Ryland gave way to laughter, and drew her into his embrace. She went, most willingly.