'Let's assume for a moment that this improbable scheme of yours is successful and you actually manage to make her presentable. What then?'
'I intend to have her presented to society.'
Constance's eyes widened. 'You intend to present her as his wife?'
'No, of course not. She'll be my…my niece. No, that won't do. I don't want her to be a blood relative.' He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. 'I have it. We'll say that my brother married a young widow with a small child. She is that child.'
'It's absurd, Simon,' Constance argued. 'You don't even have a brother. You have no assurance you can find Quinn. And, if you do, how do you then propose to convince him to assume his position as a husband?'
'Oh, I'll find him, rest assured of that.' The determined set of his jaw told Constance that he would have no scruples at all about using force against Quinn. 'As for convincing him-keep in mind, Constance, that it is one thing to abandon a child of the street with no family or protection; it is quite another to abandon a woman of breeding and grace who has been recognized by society. Quinn is a rogue, but even he wouldn't go that far. The two will meet and then I'll arrange for them to simply disappear from sight for several days. The news will leak out that they have eloped-a case of love at first sight. I, of course, will be properly outraged over their scandalous behavior. Everyone will sympathize with me, cluck their tongues, and be secretly delighted to find a couple so much in love they could not wait to be married properly. Within a month the scandal will be forgotten, and Quinn's bachelor existence will be a thing of the past.'
'I don't like it, Simon,' Constance declared. 'Meddling in other people's lives is a dangerous pastime.'
'It's the only way,' Simon replied, firmly repressing his own doubts. 'Quinn's wildness has gone unchecked for too long. He'll destroy himself.' Simon was not above taking advantage of Constance's soft heart, and he did so now without a qualm.
'Constance, as a father who loves his son, I need your help. If you have any feeling at all for Quinn, remember that this may be his last chance.'
Constance was not fooled by Simon's attempt at playing on her sympathies, but she did not call him to task for it. Instead, she asked the question that was now uppermost in her mind.
'What of the girl, Simon? From all you have said about her, she seems a most independent sort. Perhaps she won't go along with your scheme.'
Simon had some doubts about this himself, but it wouldn't do to show weakness now. 'Nonsense, Constance. It will be an opportunity the likes of which she has never dreamed possible.' He paused, and his blue eyes narrowed slightly. 'Besides, if she does protest, I believe I will be able to persuade her.'
Constance looked at him keenly; he was holding back. 'Simon, you are an unprincipled wretch. Not an hour ago you vowed to that child that you would protect her, and here you are single-mindedly plotting to reunite her with a man she obviously detests.'
'Really, Constance, a year of luxury can't help but change her attitude. She'll regain her health and discover the advantages there are to being a Copeland. Do you seriously believe that she will turn her back on Quinn once she has been exposed to our way of life and sees how marriage will benefit her? Of course not.'
He took Constance's hands in his and there was no subterfuge in his voice as he implored, 'I know I can make this work. Please help me, Constance. Other than keeping Copeland and Peale secure in our two families, there's not much else in it for you. I know that. But you will have my perpetual gratitude. Please, will you help me?'
Her old antagonist was asking for help, and she had to admit that, for one so self-sufficient, he certainly did it splendidly. Raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, she smiled.
'In truth, Simon, you've worn me down, although I am undoubtedly a peagoose to have fallen in with you.'
Simon slapped the palms of his hands together and laughed jubilantly.
Wagging a finger at him, Constance continued, 'Do not for a moment think I am such a ninny as to enter into this May game of yours without issuing several provisos with which I expect your full compliance.' Her voice was crisp and efficient, at odds with the fluttering ribbons and lace that bedecked her. 'Financially, you are to be responsible for any and all expenses incurred during her stay. I will be the sole judge of the necessities of her wardrobe, and, I warn you, Simon, there will be no skimping.'
'Agreed.' Simon grinned as he triumphantly paced the perimeter of the Aubusson carpet.
'Simon, do stop moving about! This situation is difficult enough without forcing me to address the back of your head.
'I have one further condition. You are not to interfere with any of my methods. I will proceed in my own way and will brook no intervention from you. Is that understood?'
'Yes, yes.' More like a boy of nineteen than a mature man of fifty, Simon pulled Constance up from her chair and enveloped her in an effusive hug.
His tiny business partner found herself clasped against his chest, the woolen of his morning coat pressing her cheek. Involuntarily her hands moved to his back, and she closed her eyes, drinking in the joy of once again having a man's arms encircle her. She breathed in the scent of him as her hands tentatively touched the muscles of his back. She wanted to feel his skin without the encumbrance of clothing, run her hands down his naked body, to…
Her eyes flew open. Really! What on earth was she thinking of! Hurriedly she extricated herself, snapping at him angrily, 'Simon, I fear you have lost your sense. You will crush me, you wretched man.'
Simon grinned at her, too overjoyed by her acquiescence to take umbrage with her scolding. 'I apologize, Connie. I forgot myself.'
Noelle sucked on her index finger to wet it and then dipped it experimentally into the sugar bowl. She licked off the crystals, savoring their sweetness, and ignoring a snowy napkin that lay carefully folded next to the silver pot, wiped her damp finger on the skirt of her dress.
During the absence of Simon and Constance, Noelle had finished two cups of tea, each of which she had fortified with several heaping teaspoons of sugar, and had devoured every crumb of a pair of buttery scones. Despite her large breakfast, she had eaten as if each bite were her last, but she could not seem to help herself.
At the same time she was licking her finger, her greedy eyes were consuming the elegant room. If Simon could have read Noelle's thoughts, he would have been delighted, because she was unconsciously proving that his instincts were right. She knew she looked cheap and out of place in the midst of such elegance, but she did not feel out of place. This gracious room, so foreign to her existence, felt more comfortable to her than any place she had ever been in her life. She loved the way the draperies looped above the windows, the warm colors of the carpet, the symmetry of the two chairs that flanked the library door. Her eyes approved the plasterwork of the ceiling and caressed a porcelain vase that was filled with early daffodils.
She yearned to touch it, feel the fine glass with her fingers, but she did not go near the beautiful vase, afraid that Simon Copeland would enter the room and see her coveting it. And why do you care what he thinks? she scoffed at herself, biting nervously on her thumbnail. Why was she still here anyway? The door was unlocked; there was nothing holding her.
But Noelle knew she wasn't ready to leave just yet. There was something about Simon Copeland that had stirred a deep, responsive chord inside her. She thought of his face, so like his son's, but somehow softened. And this woman, Constance. Who was she? What did she have to do with all this?
As if Noelle had conjured her, Constance entered the room, shuddering inwardly as she took a closer look at her new charge. She paused inside the door to wait for Simon, who followed almost immediately. Noelle was instantly struck by the handsome picture they presented: Simon Copeland, so tall and powerfully masculine, and Constance Peale, tiny and feminine.
'Noelle, I want you to meet Mrs. Peale, widow of my business partner. Constance, my daughter-in-law, Noelle.'
Daughter-in-law! Noelle was incredulous. Simon was openly acknowledging the relationship between them to this sophisticated woman. Her eyes flew to his questioningly, but he merely quirked a dark eyebrow at her in what she could only read as a challenge.
Lifting her chin, she rose gracefully from her chair and met Constance's assessing gaze levelly. She would show him!
A spark of admiration flashed in the eyes of the older woman. Simon had been right. There was an air about this girl that
