Just One Kiss by Samantha James Page B

angles of his face; his features might have been cast in stone. His profile revealed nothing whatsoever of his thoughts or his emotions. Yet she was struck by the feeling there was much held deeply in check, and much he chose
not
to reveal…
    He turned. "I am a wealthy man, Elizabeth—wealthy, successful, as worthy as any. I possess the looks of a gentleman and I've acquired the manners to accompany it. I live in a home many would envy. I've entertained grandly. Yet Boston society is not particularly appreciative of a man with my lowly past. Unlike most of them, I earned my money—I didn't inherit it. In short, though I've mingled with those in the most elite society circles, they've yet to accept my right to stand among them."
    Elizabeth was puzzled. "And you think marriage to me would make a difference."
    "Most definitely."
    "But… how?"
    The merest of smiles dallied on his lips. "To put it bluntly, I'm hardly well connected. As I'm sure it is in England, here in Boston, breeding is all-important, no matter how much money one has. But my background—my breeding, or lack of it—is something I cannot change. And so it occurs to me I must marry well. And marriage to you, an English
noblewoman
.. .why, no one would dare to look down on me."
    Elizabeth's expression was faintly troubled. "Does it truly matter?" She posed the question very quietly. "It's just as you said. You are a wealthy man, as worthy as any. What does it matter what others think?"
    There was a subtle hardening of his smile. "Then I would ask you the same," he challenged. "What if you went to the theater and you knew everyone there whispered behind your back? Would you continue to make your way about the city? Or would you hide behind closed doors and live
in
this world, but never a part of it? What if you walked out this very instant and someone called you whore?"
    Her breath caught. Faith, but he could be cruel! Yet she knew she could not live her life like that—it would be completely untenable.
    In her silence lay her answer.
    "I thought so. You could not stand it either." Morgan's voice turned harsh. "Why, you ask me. Call it a matter of pride. No more, no less." He paused. "So tell me, Elizabeth. What is your answer? Will you marry me?"
    Even as their eyes collided, a hundred thoughts rallied in her mind. What did she know of him… truly? Very little. He wasn't close to Nathaniel. Indeed, she suspected he didn't even
like
his brother. But he had taken her in when she was ill. He'd fed her and saw to it that she was well. He'd been more than generous, she admitted grudgingly.
    But to marry him… !
    His voice prodded her. "You came here to start your life anew, Elizabeth. I offer you that chance."
    She lowered her head. Despite her best intentions, hot tears stung her eyes. Her heart cried out. This was scarcely the marriage of her dreams.
    She bit her lip to keep from weeping. She struggled to speak, her head lowered in defeat. "Very well," she said, her voice low and choked. "I-I will marry you."
     
    They set the date for two weeks hence.
    The day after the announcement appeared in the
Chronicle
, Morgan informed her that Stephen had made arrangements for her to stay with his aunt Clara Fleming, who had just returned from Paris the afternoon before.
    Elizabeth felt rather uncomfortable at being thrust upon a stranger, yet she acknowledged the necessity. Indeed, she found it rather ironic, for things might have turned out quite differently had Clara been here in Boston the last few months rather than Europe; she could have stayed with Clara, and Thomas Porter would never have spied her entering Morgan's home. Marriage to him might well have been averted…
    As it was, the day approached with frightening speed.
    Clara had obligingly offered her the use of her home and carriage. Though the old lady's hair was white as snow, she was surprisingly active. Indeed, she was gone so often that Elizabeth joked to Stephen that the only time she saw Clara was