"Why?" he sneered, tearing into the bread and cheese like a starving man while Elizabeth watched him. her heart wrenching. "For one thing. because I shot him in our duel.

But that's not really it. I foiled his plans when I barged in on him in the greenhouse. He knew he was reaching above himself when he reached for you, but I put the onus on him. Do you know," he continued with a harsh laugh, "there were people who turned their backs on him over that episode? Plenty, I heard before I was thrown in the hold of one of his ships."

Elizabeth drew a shaky breath. "What do you mean to do?"

Robert leaned his head back and closed his eyes, looking tormented. "He'll have me killed if he learns I'm still alive," he said with absolute conviction. "I couldn't take another whipping like the last one, Elizabeth. I was on the brink of death for a week."

A sob of pity and horror rose in her throat. "Legal charges, then?" she asked, and her voice dropped to an agonized whisper. "Do you mean to go to the authorities?"

"I've thought of it. I want it so badly I can hardly sleep at night, but they'd never take my word now. Your husband has become a rich and powerful man." When he said "your husband" he looked at her so accusingly that Elizabeth could scarcely meet his haunted eyes.

"I-" She lifted her hand in helpless apology, but she didn't know what to apologize for, and tears were starting to blur her eyes and impede her speech. "Please," she cried helplessly. "I don't know what to do or say. Not yet. I can't think."

He dropped the bread and wrapped his arms around her. "Poor beautiful baby," he said. "I've lain awake nights scared out of my mind for you, trying not to think of his filthy hands on you. He owns mines-deep, endless pits in the ground where men live like animals and are beaten like oxen. That's where he gets the money for everything he buys."

Including all the jewels and furs he'd given her, Elizabeth realized, and the need to vomit was almost overwhelming. She shuddered repeatedly in Robert's embrace. "If you don't bring him up before the magistrates, what will you do?"

"What will I do?" he asked. "This isn't a question for me alone, Elizabeth. If he learns you know what he's done, your beautiful back won't take the punishment mine has. You won't survive what he has his people do to you."

At the moment, survival was unimportant to Elizabeth. Inside she was already battered. and she was already dying.

"We have to get away. Use new names. Find a new life." It was the first time Elizabeth hadn't paused to consider Havenhurst before making a decision. "Where?" she asked in a shattered whisper.

"Leave that to me. How much money can you get your hands on in a few days' time?"

Tears dripped from her clenched eyes because she had no choice. No options. No Ian. "A great deal, I suppose," she said dully, "if I can find a way to sell some jewels."

His arms tightened, and he pressed a brotherly kiss on her temple. "You must follow my instructions exactly. Promise me you will?"

She nodded against his shoulder and swallowed painfully. "No one must know you're leaving. He'll stop you if he knows what you mean to do."

Elizabeth nodded again; Ian would not let her go easily, and never without weeks of probing questions. After their torrid lovemaking. he certainly wouldn't believe she wished for a separation because she didn't want to live with him.

"Sell everything you possibly can without raising suspicion. Go to London; it's a big city, and if you use another name and try to make yourself look as different as you can, you aren't likely to be recognized. On Friday take a hack from London to Thurston Crossing on the Bernam Road. There's a posting house there, and I'll be waiting for you. Your husband will launch a search for you once your disappearance is noted. They'll be watching for a blond woman, and if they find me, I'm as good as dead. If you're with me, so are you, if he finds you first. We'll travel as man and wife; I think that will be the best way."

Elizabeth heard it all, she understood it all, but she could not seem to move or feel. "Where are we going?" she asked numbly. "I haven't decided yet. To Brussels, maybe, but that's too close. Maybe to America. We'll travel north and stay in Helmshead It's a little village on the seacoast, very secluded and provincial. They only get the newspapers irregularly, so they won't know of your disappearance. We'll wait for a ship going to the colonies up there."

His hands tightened, moving her away. "I have to leave. Do you understand what you need to do?"

She nodded.

"There's one thing more. I want you to quarrel with him-in front of someone, if possible. It doesn't need to be anything serious-just enough to make him think you're angry, so that when you leave he won't set investigators on your path so quickly. If you disappear for no apparent reason, he'll start searching for you at once. The other way will buy us time. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she said hoarsely. "I imagine so. But I wanted to be able to leave him a note, to tell him"-tears clogged her throat at the idea of writing Ian a note; he might be a monster, but her heart was refusing to let go of her love at the same speed her mind was accepting Ian's treachery to tell him why I'm leaving." Her voice broke, and her shoulders began to shake with wrenching sobs.

Robert gathered her into his arms again. Despite the comforting gesture, his voice was icy and implacable. "No note! Do you understand me? No note. Later," he promised, his voice softened and silky, "later, when we've made good our escape, you can write to him and tell him everything. You can write volumes to that bastard. Do you understand why it's imperative that you make it look like you're leaving over an ordinary quarrel?" "Yes," she said hoarsely. "I'll see you Friday," he promised, moving away from her and kissing her cheek. "Don't fail us."

"I won't."

Mechanically going through the motions of living and survival, Elizabeth sent a note to Ian that night announcing her intention to stay overnight at Havenhurst so that she could go over the books. The next day, Wednesday, she left for London, her jewels in a velvet sack concealed beneath her cloak. Everything was there, including her betrothal ring. Scrupulously adhering to the need for stealth, she had Aaron drop her in Bond Street, then she took a rented hack to the first jeweler she saw in a neighborhood where she wasn't likely to be recognized.

The jeweler was impressed with what she had to offer. Speechless, in fact. "They're all exceptionally fine stones, Mrs..."