"Christ," Harry muttered. "I don't believe this."

"Harry," Augusta murmured thoughtfully, "will we do this a great deal during the next four months of our engagement, do you think? If so, we might have to arrange for a different coachman." She giggled softly. "I cannot see Scruggs agreeing to drive us around the city every night, can you? His rheumatism, you know."

Harry went still. His head came up abruptly and there was a distinctly stunned look in his eyes. When he spoke, all trace of a lover's warmth and urgency was gone from his voice. "Four months. Damnation. 'Tis impossible."

"What is wrong, my lord?"

He lifted himself away from her, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "Nothing that cannot be remedied. I need a few minutes to think. Sit up, Augusta. Hurry. I am sorry to rush you, but you must get dressed."

Harry's impatient, commanding tone succeeded in squelching much of the lingering sense of intimacy Augusta had been feeling. She winced as she awkwardly levered herself into an upright position and began fumbling with her clothing.

"Really, Harry. I do not understand you. Why are you so angry?" Augusta's fingers stilled on her clothing as a sudden horrible thought struck her. "Are you going to blame me, after all, for what happened a few minutes ago?"

"Damn it to hell, I am not angry with you, Augusta. At least, not about this." He gestured brusquely to indicate the interior of the carriage and all that had taken place within it. "The business of breaking into Lovejoy's house is another matter entirely and I do not intend to let it drop."

He fastened his breeches, straightened his shirt, and then reached out to assist her in getting back into her clothes. His hand stilled briefly on her thigh.

Augusta smiled as she sensed that he was torn between conflicting emotions. "Yes, my lord? Did you want something more?"

"A great deal more." He shook his head grimly as he adjusted her trousers. "And I shall never last another four months before I take it again, that is for certain."

"Then we shall be doing this frequently, my lord?"

He glanced up and there was no mistaking the sensual promise in his eyes, "No doubt. But not in some bloody damn carriage in the middle of London. Here, fix your shirt, Augusta." He started to fasten it for her. "I shall procure a special license as quickly as possible and we shall be married in a day or two."

"Married. By special license?" Augusta stared at him. She could not seem to get her thoughts straight. Everything was happening too fast. "Oh, no, Harry. What about our engagement?"

"I am afraid ours is destined to be one of the shorter betrothals on record. Just as short as I can make it, in fact."

"The thing is, I am not at all certain I want it shortened."

"Your feelings on the matter are no longer of any great significance," he told her gently. "I have just made love to you and will no doubt be tempted to do so again in the very near future. We shall therefore get married immediately. I am not going to wait four months to have you again, that much is a certainty. I would not survive the torture."

"But, Harry—"

He held up a hand to silence her. "Enough. Not another word. The matter is settled. This situation is entirely of my own doing and I will do what must be done."

"Well, as to that," Augusta said thoughtfully, "I do not think you can say it was entirely your fault. You have mentioned on several occasions that my own sense of propriety is sadly lacking in many respects and everyone knows I am inclined to be somewhat reckless. This is partly my fault, Harry. In fact," she added in chagrin as she thought of what Claudia's reaction would be to this news, "some people would be of the opinion that it is all my fault."

"I said I did not want to hear another word about it." Harry started to sweep up his greatcoat from the seat of the carriage and paused to stare down at the small, damp stains on it. He drew a deep breath.

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

"My apologies, Augusta." His voice was gruff. "I had no right to take advantage of you tonight. I do not know what happened to my self-control. You deserved a proper bed and all the trappings of a honeymoon for your first experience of lovemaking."

"Do not fret about it, sir. To tell you the truth, this was a rather exciting way to begin the whole business." She pushed aside the curtain that covered the window and gazed out into the street. "I wonder how many of those other carriages out there contain couples doing exactly what we were just doing?"

"One shudders to even contemplate the notion." Harry shoved open the trapdoor in the roof with his ebony walking stick. "Scruggs, take us back to Lady Arbuthnott's immediately."

"About time," Scruggs growled from the box. "Left it a bit late, didn't you, sir?"

Harry did not bother to respond. He let the trap close with a loud crack. Then he sat facing Augusta in silence for a long moment. "I cannot believe I have just made love to my fiancée in a carriage in the middle of a London street."

"Poor Harry." Augusta studied the strange expression on his hard face. "I suppose you will find this very difficult to reconcile with your fine notion of propriety, will you not, my lord?"

"Are you laughing at me, by any chance, Miss Ballinger?"

"No, my lord. I would not dream of doing so." She struggled to conceal the grin that was tugging at her mouth. She wondered why she felt so lighthearted and happy after such an astounding event.

Harry swore softly. "I begin to believe that if I am not extremely careful, you will be an exceedingly bad influence on me, Augusta."

"I shall certainly try my best, sir," she murmured. Then she sobered. "But about this matter of being married by special license, I really do not feel it is necessary to do anything quite so drastic, Harry."

"No?" His brows rose. "Well, I do. And that is all there is to it. I shall notify you tomorrow of the time and place. And I shall speak to your uncle and explain that there is no choice now."

"But that's just it, Harry. There is a choice. I am in no great rush. And marriage is so very permanent, is it not? I want you to be quite certain of what you are doing, my lord."

"You mean you are still having qualms."

She bit her lip. "I did not say that precisely."

"You do not need to say it. You have been dragging your feet about our engagement right from the start. But now matters have gone too far and neither of us has any honorable alternative but to proceed with the wedding as quickly as possible."

A jolt of fear went through Augusta. "I hope you are not going through with this because you feel you must do the right thing, my lord. I realize you are very touchy about matters having to do with respectability and propriety, but there really is no need for such haste."

"Do not be a goose, Augusta. There is every need to hurry along this marriage. You might even now be pregnant."

Her eyes widened. "Dear heaven, I had not thought of that." Which only goes to show what chaos my mind is in tonight, she thought. I might be pregnant. With Harry's baby. Instinctively she touched her stomach with protective fingers.

Harry's gaze followed her hand. He smiled. "Obviously that possibility had slipped your mind."

"We could wait awhile and be certain," she ventured.

"We are not going to wait a day longer than necessary."

She heard the unyielding note in his voice and knew that further argument was useless. She was not even certain she wanted further discussion. She did not know what she wanted just then.

What would it be like to have Harry's baby?

Augusta sat tense and quiet until the carriage arrived at Lady Arbuthnott's residence.

When they alighted, Augusta turned to Harry one last time. "My lord, it is not too late to reconsider. Pray, do not make any decisions until the morrow. You may feel differently then."