AN: This is extremely bad timing on my part for beginning a new story, but an idea took hold of me and wouldn't let go. I have a lot going on the next two weeks (and I'm taking the GMAT on June 6, so this is crunch time for studying), so bare with me if my updates don't always come quickly.

I hope you enjoy, and please review! :-)

London, 1888

"Shh," Andrew breathed, pulling away from Cora. "Someone's coming."

She heard the same footsteps he did on the gravel path, and she froze, hoping they were not about to be discovered. With the millions in her dowry, she thought her reputation would survive being spotted alone in a garden with a man, but she'd rather be spared the embarrassment, as well as the lecture she'd get if the story got back to her mother. To her relief, the footsteps soon died away. Whoever it was had apparently only been out for a stroll of his own and had no knowledge of the couple on the other side of the hedge.

"I think we're quite safe now," Cora whispered, and Andrew responded by wrapping his arms around her waist again and covering her mouth with his own. Her own arms re-entwined themselves around his neck, and she was soon kissing him so hard she could barely breathe. His hands were up and down her back and everywhere at once, and suddenly they were slipping far lower than they should but she wasn't sure she minded. She had been kissed only a handful of times in New York, and those had all been quick pecks in stolen moments when she and a beau had been left briefly unsupervised. She had certainly never been kissed like this, she thought, as she pressed her body closer to Andrew's.

Cora and her mother had arrived in London only a week ago, and they were making a brief round of parties in the city before retreating to a variety of countryside estates. They had come, of course, with the intention of finding an aristocrat who was willing to lend an American heiress his title in exchange for her fortune. The goal was an earl or a future earl, and Martha Levinson did not doubt they had the money to achieve it.

Cora fully endorsed this plan, but more than that she endorsed the idea of the bit of freedom the English season was allowing her. They had brought only their two lady's maids, and thus her mother did not have a full entourage of chaperones available to her. Martha herself was quite distracted by her new surroundings and threw herself into the task of studying each ballroom and drawing room full of bachelors, leaving Cora to flirt as she pleased at most parties. And to be unchaperoned and loose in a foreign country, with the task of finding a husband, was heady stuff for a girl who had left high school a month prior.

"Cora," Andrew breathed, coming up for air and beginning to leave a trail of kisses down her neck. "God, you're exquisite." His hands squeezed her hips and firmly traced up her sides, and she gasped when his thumbs brushed her breasts.

"I'm sorry," he said smoothly. "Have I offended you?" But he did not remove his hands.

"N-no," she stuttered. "No, not at all." In truth she knew everything about this situation was so far from what was proper that they were likely to meet proper again coming from the other direction. She had known that from the moment she'd followed him outside, but the brush of her breasts had suddenly brought home to her that this was not just improper; it was wrong.

But she'd had quite a bit of champagne, and she was even more drunk on her freedom and the grown-up-feeling she'd had since they'd docked at Southampton, and there was a small voice inside her head saying, No one will ever know. And what was more, she did not know how much time she had with Andrew.

Cora had met Andrew Marks at her very first ball six nights ago and had been hopelessly charmed after one dance. He was a good ten years her senior, but he had eyes for no one but her, and he was full of commentary and advice on the new world before her. He had taken her under his wing and then into his arms, and she had fallen head over heels for him.

Andrew was both untitled and rich—in other words, the same as her—and thus he was not husband material. "Please don't waste any more dances on that Mr. Marks!" her mother had begged. "We haven't come three thousand miles to talk to nice rich men. There were plenty of those in New York!" And so Cora knew their time together was short.

"Are you sure you're all right, Cora?" Andrew asked, snapping her attention back to the present.

She smiled shyly. "Of course."

He took that as license to cup her breast with his right hand and pull her closer with his left. She knew she should pull away, should tell him to stop, to release her, but her excitement won out over her squeamishness and she sighed as he kissed her again. His hand did feel rather…nice there.

"Let's go inside, then," he said against her cheek.

"Inside?" She knew she should be relieved, but all she could feel was disappointment.

She felt his chest shake with silent laughter. "Not inside, back to the party. I meant—inside, upstairs. I know some of the servants; there's a discrete footman here who can show us to a room while everyone's distracted."

"I can't spend the night here," she said. She'd be lucky if her mother hadn't missed her yet.

"Of course not. But a few minutes together would be heaven enough."

Cora was not sure what sex involved, but she was clear enough on the matter to know that was what was being suggested. She also knew it would be quite impossible, but she was flattered at the request.

"My…my husband…" she said. Andrew's hand was moving against her breast in a way that made it very difficult to think straight. "I am expected to be a virgin for my husband," she said at last.

"And how do you imagine he can tell the difference?"

She did not answer, not wanting to admit her own ignorance. Could men not tell? "Most men can't tell, darling," he said, as though hearing her thoughts. "Certainly not some inexperienced, foppish earl like your mother intends for you."

She giggled, and the reality of his words hit her. That would be precisely what she would be getting: some buttoned-up aristocrat even more ignorant than she was.

"Do you really want your future husband to be all you know of love?" he whispered.

No. She knew she didn't want that. She was destined to be married to a man who didn't love her, and she was willing to make that bargain in exchange for a life as a countess, but it suddenly seemed very unfair as she stood in the arms of a man who did seem to love her. Surely it was an understandable temptation. Surely God could forgive her this…

"What if I…there can't be a baby," she said. They both knew that this statement was not an objection so much as an obstacle she wanted him to overcome for her.

And Andrew laughed again. "Oh Cora! You don't know much of the world, do you? It takes more than what we'll do tonight to have a baby! You can't lose your virginity and conceive a child at the same time!"

She smiled. "Then I think I've run out of excuses, Mr. Marks."