The Earl's American Heiress. Carol Arens

ruin.

      Even though she held no illusions that the earl was going into the marriage for any reason but monetary gain, she was disturbed by the contrast between the behaviors of the pair of men who were lately on her mind. One of them had gallantly offered to walk her home in the wee hours of the night, while the other had ignored her presence.

      Marriage implied a particular kind of intimacy. She did not think she could allow free access of her body to a man she did not at least think highly of.

      Recalling how appealing she had found Heath Ramsfield for those few moments she spent with him, she wondered if perhaps she ought to stand firm for a love match.

      Wondered until she recalled how Grandfather’s arms had held her through that flood. Held on with a love so fierce she had not been swept away.

      That memory, and everything else he had done for her, weighed heavily in her decision.

      If only there was someone she could speak with—a trustworthy confidant. Once again, she sorely missed her cousin, even though if she saw her this moment she would chastise her.

      Footsteps crunched on the path.

      “Excuse me, my lady,” said a deep voice from the shadows. “I did not realize this space was occupied.”