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"If I am such a disrespectful brat, my lord," she replied, keeping her voice perfectly pleasant, "then you need not marry me." She gave him a polite smile. "I am certain there are other ladies who would be delighted to leave you waiting instead."

Louiza made a tiny sound behind her that might have been a cough, although Olivia knew her sister well enough to recognize suppressed laughter when she heard it.

Lord Boulton's face became a deeper shade of red. "You think this is amusing?" he demanded, pointing his stick toward Louiza.

Olivia looked at it, then at him. "Not particularly. Though your manner of introduction has been rather memorable."

Lady Charnley hurried forward before the situation could deteriorate into an outright quarrel. "Lord Boulton, please forgive her. She has been indulged far too much by her parents."

"I have not been indulged at all," Olivia muttered.

Lady Charnley shot her a warning look, but Lord Boulton was already pacing across the room. "I travelled here expecting to meet my future bride," he complained. "I waited at the ball. I was informed she had vanished. Do you understand the embarrassment?"

Olivia watched him closely now, and despite her irritation, something unexpected stirred within her. He looked terribly unfortunate. His shoulders seemed to sag beneath his coat, and the balding crown of his head made him appear older than fifty. His clothes were expensive, certainly, but they did little to conceal a man who seemed deeply aware that his prospects were narrowing.

For the first time, Olivia wondered whether his anger had less to do with her than with desperation. The thought softened her for precisely three seconds before he spoke again.

"Your aunt and I have written to your parents," he announced. "They will not refuse."

Olivia looked toward Lady Charnley, who nodded firmly. "Your father knows what is owed. Your mother understands the advantage of the match."

The words settled heavily over Olivia. Of course they would not refuse. Her father rarely refused anyone who made the effort to sound important, and her mother would probably celebrate the marriage if Lord Boulton arrived wearing a crown and carrying a chest of gold.

"So that is it?" Olivia asked quietly.

"They will agree," Lady Charnley corrected.

Olivia felt an unpleasant ache in her chest. She had known the answer before she asked, but hearing it aloud made it real. Her parents were not going to rescue her. They had never been particularly good at rescuing their daughters when doing so required courage, and Olivia had stopped expecting miracles from them years ago. She glanced at Louiza, whose eyes were filled with concern, and then lowered her gaze.

"Very well," she said softly.

Lord Boulton immediately brightened, as though he had just negotiated the purchase of a particularly valuable horse.

"Excellent. Then there is no reason for further delay." He turned toward Lady Charnley. "We shall leave for Gretna Green within the week."

Olivia looked up sharply. "Within the week?"

"One week," Lady Charnley confirmed. "There is no reason to prolong matters. As soon as we receive a reply from your parents that seals the matter."

Olivia stared at them both. One week. Seven days to become the wife of a man she had no affection for and scarcely any respect for, seven days to surrender whatever remained of her freedom, and seven days before her life was decided for her. It was almost laughable. She had spent the previous night considering whether she might marry a complete stranger because an abandoned baby needed a home, and now she was being informed that she would marry another stranger because her family owed him money. Her life had developed an astonishing preference for absurdity.

Lord Boulton moved toward the door, apparently satisfied that the matter had been settled.

"I expect you to behave properly from this moment forward," he told Olivia sternly.

She offered him her sweetest smile. "I shall endeavor to disappoint you as little as possible."

He frowned, uncertain whether she had insulted him. Olivia decided that uncertainty was probably for the best.

Once he had left, silence descended upon the parlor. Olivia remained standing, her thoughts racing furiously.

One week. I have one week before I am expected to travel to Gretna Green and marry Lord Boulton, whether I want to or not.

Except she did have another choice.

Her mind returned immediately to the previous evening, James's calm eyes, his outrageous proposal, the baby sleeping peacefully against her chest, and his words that had sounded utterly mad at the time.

A solution.