Outside the church, Uncle Monty kissed Dara soundly, took Youngbaes's hand, and was pumping it energetically, when Jiyong's harsh voice stopped him cold. "You damned fool, the wedding is off! Do something useful, and take my wife home." Taking his grandmother's arm, Jiyong started toward the waiting car. Over his shoulder, he said curtly to Youngbae, "I suggest we get out of here, before that mob in there descends on us. The morning papers will carry the explanation of my miraculous return. They can learn about it there. We'll meet you at my.. at the town house in Upper Brook Street."

"No way to flag down a hack, Kwon," Uncle Monty said toYoungbae, taking charge when neither Dara nor Youngbae seemed capable of movement. "There ain't a hack in sight. You'll ride with us." Forcibly clutching Youngbae by one arm and Daraby the other, he marched them forward toward Youngbae’s car..

Jiyong ushered his grandmother into her stately car, snapped orders to her mesmerized driver, and climbed in beside her. "Jiyong”?" she whispered finally, staring up at him with joyous, tear-brightened eyes as the coach lurched forward. "Is it really you?"

A sympathetic smile softened his grim features. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he tenderly kissed her forehead. "Yes, grandmama."

In a rare show of affection, she laid her hand against his tanned cheek, then suddenly jerked her hand away and demanded imperiously, "Jiyong, where have you been! We thought you were dead! Poor Dara almost wasted away with grief, and Youngbae”

"Spare me the lies," Jiyong interrupted coldly. "Youngbae looked anything but thrilled to see me just now, and my 'grieving' wife was a radiant bride." In his mind Jiyong saw the ravishing beauty who had turned to him on that altar. For one wonderful, mortifying moment he thought he'd barged in on the wrong wedding, or that Mathison had been mistaken about the identity of Youngbaes's bride, because Jiyong hadn't recognized her not until she'd raised those unforgettable eyes of hers to his. Then and only then had he known for certain who she was just as certainly as he knew in that instant that Youngbae had not been marrying her out of pity or charity. The intoxicating beauty on that altar would arouse lust in any man, but not pity.

"I was under the impression," he remarked with biting sarcasm, "that a mourning period of one year is customary after a death in one's immediate family."

"Of course it is, and we did observe it!" Yejin said defensively. "The three of us did not go out into company until April, when Sandara made her bow, and I don't”

"And where was my grieving wife living during that somber period?" he bit out.

"At Hawthorne, with Youngbae and me, of course."

"Of course," Jiyong repeated caustically. "I find it amazing that Youngbae wasn't contented with owning my titles, my lands, and my money he had to possess my wife, as well." Yejin paled, suddenly aware of how all this must look to him right now and equally cognizant that in his present mood, it would be a grave mistake to explain that Dara's popularity had necessitated her marriage. "You're wrong, Jiyong, Sandara"

"Sandara," he interrupted, "apparently liked being the wife of a Kwon and therefore did the only thing she could do to secure the position permanently. She decided to marry the current Kwon."

"She's a  scheming opportunist?" he suggested bitingly, as rage and disgust ate at him like acid. While he had been rotting away in prison, lying awake nights worrying that Dara was wasting away in seclusion, tormented with grief and despair, Youngbae and Dara had been enjoying all his worldly goods. And in time they decided to enjoy each other as well.

Yejin saw the harshness in his taut features and sighed with helpless understanding. "I know how dreadful all this must look to you, Jiyong," she said with a trace of guilt in her gruff voice, "and I can see that you are not ready or able to listen to reason. However, I should very much like it if you would at least explain to me what you have been about all this time."

Jiyong sketched in the details of his absence, leaving out the worst of them, but talking about it only made him more furiously aware of the sick irony of the entire situation: While he had been in chains, Youngbae had happily usurped his titles, his estates, his money, and then he had decided to help himself to Jiyong's wife.

Behind them, in a car Dara sat perfectly still beside Uncle Monty and across from Youngbae, who was staring out the window. Her mind was racing in wild circles, her thoughts tumbling over themselves. Jiyong was alive and well except that he was much thinner than she remembered. Had he deliberately vanished because he wanted to escape from the pathetic child he had married, returning only when he discovered his cousin was about to become a party to bigamy? Her joy that he was alive and well gave way to bewilderment. Surely he could not have been so revolted by her as that!

No sooner had that thought consoled her dazed spirits than sharper ones began to stab at her in rapid, relentless succession: The man whose return she had just been rejoicing was the very same man who had pitied and despised her. He had mocked her to his mistress.Jiyong Kwon, as she now knew and must never forget, was unprincipled, unfaithful, heartless, and morally corrupt. And she was married to him!

Dara called him every terrible name she could think of, but as their coach neared Upper Brook Street, her fury was already abating. Anger required mental energy and concentration, and at the moment her dazed mind was still nearly paralyzed with shock.

Across from her, Youngbae shifted in his seat and the movement suddenly made her remember that she was not the only one whose future had just been drastically altered by Jiyong's reappearance. "Youngbae," she said sympathetically, "I'm sorry," she finished lamely. "It's just as well your mother felt she ought to stay home with your brother. The shock of Jiyong's return would surely have brought on an attack."

To her amazement, Youngbae started to grin. "Being the heir of Kwon Company was not quite so delightful as I once thought it would be. As I said a few weeks ago, there's little joy in possessing fabulous wealth if one can't find the time to enjoy it. However, it has just occurred to me that fate has handed you quite a boon."

"What is that?" she said, staring at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "Only consider this," he continued, and to her disbelief he began to chuckle out loud. "Jiyong is back and his wife is now one of the most desired women in Seoul! Be honest isn't this exactly what you used to dream would happen?"

With grim amusement, Dara contemplated the shock that was in store for Jiyong when he discovered that his unwanted, pitiful little wife was now the toast of the ton. "I have no intention of remaining married to him," she said with great finality. "I shall tell him as soon as possible that I want a divorce."

Youngbae sobered instantly. "You can't be serious. Do you have any idea how much scandal a divorce will cause? Even if you can get one, which I doubt, you will be a total outcast in Society." "I don't care."

He looked at her and his voice gentled. "I appreciate your concern for my feelings, Dara, but there's no need for you to think of a divorce on my behalf. Even if we were desperately in love, which we aren't, it wouldn't matter. You are Jiyong's wife. Nothing can change that."

"Hasn't it occurred to you that he might want to change that?" "Nope," Youngbae declared cheerfully. "I'll wager that what he wants to do right now is call me out and demand satisfaction. Didn't you see the murderous look he gave me in church? But don't fret," he continued, chuckling at her look of terror, "if G dragon wants a duel, I'll choose rapiers and send you in as my stand-in. He can't very well spill your blood, and you stand a better chance of drawing his than I do."

Dara would have argued tempestuously that Jiyong wasn't likely to care that Youngbae and she had been about to marry, but argument required clear, rational thinking and she could not quite shake off the blur of unreality still surrounding everything. "Let me be the one to tell him I wish a divorce, Youngbae. For the sake of future family tranquillity, he must understand that this is entirely my decision and has nothing to do with you."

Caught between amusement and alarm, Youngbae leaned across and took her by the shoulders, laughing as he shook her lightly. "Dara, listen to me. I know you're in shock, and I certainly don't think you ought to fall into Jiyong's arms this week or even this month, but divorcing him is carrying vengeance too far!"

"He cannot object in the least," Dara replied with a flash of spirit. "He never cared a pin for me." Youngbae shook his head, his lips twitching with the smile he was trying unsuccessfully to hide. "You don't really understand about men and their pride and you don't know Jiyong if you believe he'll just let you go. He" Suddenly Youngbae's eyes gleamed with laughter and he fell back against the squabs, chuckling with mirth. "Jiyong," he declared mirthfully, "hated sharing his toys, and he's never passed up a challenge!"

Uncle Monty looked from one to the other of them, then reached inside his coat and removed a small flask. "Circumstances such as these," he announced, helping himself to a swallow, "require a bit of restorative tonic."

There was no time for further conversation, because just then their car drew up behind Jiyong's at the house on Upper Brook Street. Carefully averting her eyes from Jiyong, who was already helping his grandmother down from the other car, Dara put her hand in Youngbae and stepped down. But as Jiyong  followed her up the steps with his grandmother on his arm, the shock that had blessedly anesthetized Dara up until now, abruptly began to dissipate. Less than two feet behind her, his booted heels struck the pavement with sharp, relentless clicks that sent shivers of apprehension dancing down her spine; his tall body and broad shoulders threw an ominous shadow across her path and blocked the sunlight. He was real and alive and here, she thought, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably. This was not a dream or a nightmare from which she might awaken.

The group seemed to turn in unison toward the drawing room. Her senses heightened sharply by her growing awareness of his menace to her future. Dara paused inside the drawing room and swiftly surveyed the seating, weighing the psychological advantages and disadvantages of each location. Looking for a neutral position, she decided against the sofa, seating herself instead in one of the two wing chairs facing each other in front of the fireplace, then concentrated all her will on trying to subdue the sudden, quickened pounding of her heart. Yejin apparently opted for neutrality also, for she chose the other chair for herself.

That left the sofa, at right angles to the chairs and facing the fireplace. Youngbae, with no other choice, sat upon that and was joined by Uncle Monty, who had rushed into the drawing room in hopes of enjoying some libation while simultaneously lending Dara his emotional support. Jiyong crossed to the fireplace, draped his arm across the mantel and turned, regarding the entire assemblage in cool, speculative silence.

While Yejin gave an extremely brief, nervous account of Jiyong's whereabouts for the last fifteen months, Filbert walked in, a beaming smile upon his lips, a tray of champagne in his hands. Unaware of the charged atmosphere or of Jiyong's relationship to Dara, the loyal servant carried the tray straight to Dara and filled five glasses. As soon as Yejin finished speaking, Filbert handed the first glass to Dara, and said, "May you always be as happy as you are at this moment, Miss Dara."

Dara felt hysterical laughter well up inside her, combined with escalating panic, as Filbert returned to the table and poured more champagne into the remaining glasses, then passed them out to the silent inhabitants of the room, including Jiyong.

Seconds ticked past, but no one, not even Uncle Monty, had nerve enough to be the first one to lift his glass and partake of the vintage champagne that had been brought up from the cellars in advance to celebrate a wedding that had not taken place, No one, except Jiyong.

Seemingly impervious to the throbbing strain in the drawing room, he turned the glass in his hand, studying the bubbles in the sparkling crystal glass, then he took a long swallow. When he lowered the glass, he regarded Youngbae with a sardonic expression. "It's good to know," he coldly remarked, "that you haven't let your grief over my alleged demise prevent you from enjoying my best wines."

Yejin flinched, Dara stiffened, but Youngbae accepted the biting gibe with a nonchalant smile. "Be assured that we toasted you whenever we opened a new bottle, G dragon." Beneath lowered lashes, Dara a stole a swift, apprehensive glance at the tall, dark figure at the fireplace, wondering a little hysterically what sort of man he actually was. He appeared to feel no antagonism over Youngbae's having "usurped" his title, his money, his estates, and his wife and yet he was angry because his wine cellar had been raided.

Jiyong's next words immediately disabused her of the erroneous notion that he was unconcerned about his estates. "How has Kwon Company fared in my absence?" he asked, and for the next hour he snapped rapid-fire questions at Youngbae, interrogating him in minute detail about the state of each of his eleven estates, his myriad business ventures, his personal holdings, and even the health of some of his retainers.

Whenever he spoke, his deep voice scraped against Dara's lacerated nerves and, on those rare occasions when she stole a glance at him, apprehension made her quickly jerk her gaze away. Dressed in tight breeches that outlined his long, muscular legs and an open-necked white shirt that clung to his wide shoulders, Jiyong Kwon looked completely relaxed, yet there was an undeniable aura of forcefulness, of power restrained now, but gathering force waiting to be unleashed on her. She remembered him as being handsome, but not so ruggedly virile, or so formidably large. He was too thin, but the tan he'd acquired after his escape and on board the ship made him look far healthier than the white-skinned gentlemen of the ton. Standing almost within arms' reach of her, he loomed like a sinister specter, a dangerous, malevolent giant of a man who had suddenly imposed himself in her life, again, with the power to blot all happiness from her future. She was not callous enough to be sorry he was alive, but she sorely wished she'd never laid eyes on him.

For what seemed an eternity, Dara sat perfectly still, existing in a state of jarring tension, fighting to appear completely calm, clinging to her composure as if it were a blanket she could use to insulate herself against Jiyong.. With a mixture of terrible dread and utter determination, she waited for the inevitable moment when Jiyong would finally bring up the matter of her. When Jiyong was finished discussing the company matters with Youngbae, however, he switched to the status of his other ventures, and Dara felt her anxiety begin to escalate. When that topic was exhausted, he inquired about local events, and Dara's panic was mixed with bewilderment. But when he switched from that to gossip and trivialities and asked about the outcome of the races at Fordham last spring, Dara's bewilderment gave way to annoyance.

Obviously, he considered her less important than the race. Not that she should have been surprised by that, she reminded herself bitterly, for as she had discovered to her mortification a short time ago, Jiyong Kwon had never considered her anything but an irksome responsibility.

When all matters, down to the most trivial, had finally been discussed, an uneasy silence fell over the room, and Dara naturally assumed her time was finally here. Just when she expected Jiyong to ask to see her alone, he abruptly straightened from his lounging posture at the fireplace and announced his intention to leave!

Prudence warned her to keep silent, but Dara could not bear another hour, let alone another day, of this awful suspense. Striving to sound calm and impersonal, she said, "I think there is one more issue that needs to be discussed."

Without bothering to so much as glance in her direction, Jiyong reached out and accepted Youngbae's outstretched hand. "That issue can wait," he said coldly. "When I've seen to some important matters, you and I will talk privately."

The implication that she was not an "important" matter was unmistakable, and Dara stiffened at the deliberate, unprovoked insult. She was a fully grown young woman now, not an easily manipulated, wildly infatuated child who would have done anything to please him. Putting a tight rein on her temper, she said with unarguable logic, "Surely a human being warrants the same amount of your time as the Fordham race and I would rather discuss it now, while we are all together."

Jiyong's head jerked toward her, and Dara's breath froze at the hard anger flaring in his eyes. "I said 'privately'!" he snapped, leaving her with the staggering realization that beneath his cool, impassive facade Jiyong was burningly angry. Before she could assimilate that or withdraw her request for his time as she was on the verge of doing Yejin swiftly arose and beckoned Uncle Monty and Youngbae to follow her out of the room.

The door to the salon closed behind them with an ominous thud, and for the first time in fifteen months, Dara was alone with the man who was her husband alarmingly, nerve-rackingly alone. From the corner of her eyes, she watched him walk to the table and pour himself another glass of champagne, and she took advantage of his preoccupation to really look at him. What she saw made her tremble with foreboding. Wildly, she wondered how she could have been naive enough, or infatuated enough, to imagine that Jiyong was gentle. Seen now, through the eyes of an adult, she could not find a trace of gentleness or kindness anywhere in his tough, ruggedly chiseled features. How, she wondered in amazement. Instead of gentle beauty, there was ruthless nobility stamped on Jiyong tanned features, implacable authority in the tough jawline and straight nose, and cold determination in the of his chin. Inwardly she shivered at the harsh cynicism she saw in his eyes, the biting mockery she heard in his drawl. Long ago, she had thought his grey eyes soft, like the sky after a summer rain, but now she could see they were cold and unwelcoming as glaciers; eyes without kindness or understanding. Oh, he was handsome enough, she conceded reluctantly devastatingly so, in fact, but only if one were drawn to dark, blatantly aggressive, wickedly sensual men, which she assuredly was not.

Racking her brain for the best way to broach the matter on her mind, she approached the table and poured herself another glass of champagne, oblivious to the fact that her first glass was still full, then she looked around, trying to decide whether to sit or stand. She decided to stand so he would not seem so tall and intimidating.

At the fireplace Jiyong raised his glass to his lips, watching her. She could have only two possible reasons for insisting on this meeting, he thought. The first possibility was that she honestly believed she was in love with Youngbae, and that was why she wished to marry him. If that was the case, she would begin by telling him so simply and truthfully as had been her habit. The second possibility was that she wanted to be married to whoever was the heir of Kwon Company. If that was the case, she would now try to soothe Jiyong with some form of tender, feminine theatrics. But first she would wait a bit for his temper to cool exactly as she was doing now.

Jiyong drained his glass and put it down on the mantel with a sharp thud. "I'm waiting," he snapped impatiently. Dara jumped and whirled to face him, appalled by his biting tone. "I know," she said, determined at all costs to speak to him with calm maturity and to make it infinitely clear to him that she no longer wished to be his concern or responsibility. On the other hand, she did not want to do or say anything which might reveal to him how hurt and angry and disillusioned she had been when she discovered the truth about his feelings for her, or what a fool she had made of herself grieving for Seoul's most infamous libertine. To add to her dilemma, it was rapidly becoming obvious that in his current mood, Jiyong was not likely to react reasonably to the scandalous subject of a divorce. In fact, she instinctively knew he would react the opposite. "I'm not quite certain how to begin," she said hesitantly.

"In that case," he drawled sarcastically as his blistering gaze sliced over her glorious ice-blue satin bridal gown, "allow me to offer a few suggestions: If you're about to tell me very prettily how sorely you've missed me, I'm afraid that gown you are wearing is a little incongruous. You would have been wiser to change it. It's extravagantly lovely by the way." His drawl became clipped and abrupt. "Did I pay for it?"

"No that is, I don't know exactly how" "Never mind about the gown," he interrupted scathingly. "Let's get on with your charade. Since you cannot very well fling yourself into my arms and weep tears of joy at my return, while you're dressed as another man's bride, you'll have to think of something else to soften my attitude toward you and win my forgiveness."

"Win your what?" Dara exploded as outrage conquered her fears. "Why not begin by telling me how deeply grieved you were when you first learned of my 'untimely demise'?" he continued savagely, ignoring her outburst of righteous indignation. "That would have a nice ring to it. Then, if you could manage one tear, or even two, you could tell me how you mourned me, and wept, and said prayers for my—"

That was so close to the truth that Dara's voice shook with shamed anger. "Stop it! I have no intention of doing anything of the sort! Furthermore, you arrogant hypocrite, your forgiveness is the last thing I care about."

"That was very foolish of you, my sweet," he drawled silkily, shoving away from the fireplace. "Tenderness and dainty tears are called for at times such as these, not insults. Moreover, softening my attitude ought to be your first concern. Well-bred females who aspire to be rich ust seek to make themselves agreeable to any eligible rich man at all times. Now then, since you can't change your gown and you can't weep, why not try telling me how much you missed me," he insolently suggested. "You did miss me, did you not? Very much, I'll vow. So much so that you only decided to marry Youngbae because he resembled me. That's it, isn't it?" he mocked.

"Why are you behaving like this?" Dara cried. Without bothering to answer, he moved closer, looming over her like a dark, ominous cloud. "In a day or two, I'll tell you what I've decided to do with you." Anger and confusion were warring in Daras mind, sending her thoughts into a complete tumult. Jiyong had never cared about her and he had no right, no reason to act like a self-righteous, outraged husband! "I am not a mindless piece of chattel!" she burst out. "You can't just dispose of me like a piece of furniture!"

"Can't I? Try me!" he clipped. Dara's mind d wildly for some way to neutralize his irrational anger and soothe what could only be his wounded ego. Raking a hand through her heavy hair, she sought desperately for some guiding logic. She was the innocent and injured party in their relationship, but at the moment he was the powerful and potentially dangerous party, and so she tried to reason with him. "I can see that you're angry"

"How very observant of you," he mocked nastily.

Ignoring his sarcasm, Dara persevered in what she hoped was a reasonable tone, "And I can see there is no point in trying to reason with you in this mood"

"Go ahead and try it," he invited, but the look in his eyes said the opposite as he took a menacing step toward her.

Dara hastily retreated a step. "There's  no point. You won't listen to me. Anger blows out the lamp of the mind" The quote from Ingersoll caught Jiyong entirely off guard, reminding him poignantly of the enchanting  girl who could quote from Buddha or John the Baptist, depending upon the occasion. Unfortunately, it only made him angrier now, because she was no longer that girl. Instead, she had become a scheming little opportunist. If she truly wanted to marry Youngbae because she loved him, she would have said so by now, he knew. Since she hadn't, she obviously wanted to remain the wife of whoever is the heir of Kwon Company.

And therein lay her problem, Jiyong thought cynically: She could not convincingly throw herself into his arms and weep for joy when he had just witnessed her near-marriage to another man, but neither could she risk letting him walk out of this house without taking the first of many predictable steps toward reconciliation not if she wanted to continue moving in Society with the full prestige and honor of her rank. To maintain that, the ton would need to see that she was in the good graces of the current heir. She had become ambitious in the last fifteen months, he realized with blazing contempt. And beautiful. Arrestingly so at close range, with her glossy hair spilling over her shoulders and back in masses of waves contrasting vividly with her glowing alabaster skin, brillianteyes, and soft, rosy lips. In comparison with the other women he remembered, who were usually the Acclaimed Beauties, Dara was incredibly more alluring.

He stared hard at her, convinced she was a scheming opportunist, yet despite all the evidence, he could not find a trace of guile in those flashing eyes of hers or her angry, upturned face. Furious with his inner reluctance to see her for what she had become, he his heel and walked toward the door.

Dara watched him leave, buffeted by a myriad of conflicting emotions, including fury, relief, and alarm. He paused in the doorway and she tensed automatically.

"I will move in here tomorrow. In the meantime, let me leave you with some instructions: You are not to accompany Youngbae anywhere!" His tone promised terrible consequences should she choose to ignore his order, and although she couldn't imagine what form those reprisals might take, or why she should want to walk out and face a furor of gossip, Dara was momentarily quelled by the threat in his voice. "You will, in fact, not leave this house. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

With a magnificent gesture of unconcern that completely belied her alarm, she shrugged lightly and said, "I speak three languages fluently,. One of them is English."

"Are you patronizing me?" he asked in a silken, threatening voice. Dara's courage warred with common sense, but neither of them won. Afraid to advance and unwilling to retreat, she tried to hold her ground by daring to say in the tone of an adult addressing a cranky, unreasonable child: "I have no wish to discuss that or anything else with you when you are in such an unreasonable mood."

"Sandara," he said in an awful voice, "if you're wondering how far you can push me, you've just reached your limit. In my present 'unreasonable mood,' nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to close this door and spend the next ten minutes making certain you can't sit down for a week. Do you take my meaning?"

The threat of being spanked like a child stripped away Dara's hard-won confidence and made her feel as gauche and helpless as she had a year ago in his presence. She put her chin up and said nothing, but bright flags of humiliated color stained her cheeks, and tears of frustration stung her eyes.

He stared at her in silence and then, satisfied that she was adequately chastened, Jiyong defied all the rules of courtesy and walked off without so much as a nod to her. Two years ago, she had been ignorant of the rules of etiquette to which polite ladies and gentlemen always conformed; she had not realized then that Jiyong was insulting her when he never bothered to bow to her, or to kiss her hand, or treat her solicitously. For that matter, he had never deigned to permit her to call him by his given name. Now, as she stood alone in the middle of the drawing room, she was acutely, furiously aware of all those bygone slights, as well as the new ones he had heaped upon her today.

She waited until she heard the front door close, and then she walked woodenly out of the salon and up the stairs to her room. Anguish and disbelief poured through her as she dismissed her maid and mindlessly stripped off her wedding gown. He was back! And he was worse than she remembered, worse than she'd imagined more arrogant, more dictatorial, completely heartless. And she was married to him. Married! her heart screamed.

This morning, everything had seemed so simple and predictable. She had arisen and dressed to be married; she had gone to the church. Now, three hours later, she was married to the wrong man. Fiercely struggling against her tears, she sat down on the settee and wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to block out the images, but it was no use. They paraded across her mind, tormenting her with vivid scenes of the mindlessly infatuated, besotted girl she had been… She saw herself looking up at Jiyong in the garden at Rosemeade. "I think you are as beautiful " she had blurted. "I love you." And when he had made love to her, she had nearly swooned in his arms, and babbled to him about how strong and wise and nauseatingly wonderful he was!

"Dear God," Dara moaned aloud as another forgotten memory pranced across her mind: she had actually told Jiyong Seoul's most infamous libertine that he obviously wasn't well-acquainted with many women. No wonder he had grinned!

Hot tears of humiliation dripped from her eyes, but she brushed them angrily aside, refusing to cry one more time for that that monster. She had already wept buckets of tears over him, she thought furiously.Youngbae's words of a few weeks ago came back to hack at her lacerated emotions: " Jiyong married you because he pitied you, but he had neither the DESIRE nor the INTENT to live with you as his wife. He intended to pack you off to Devon when you returned from your wedding trip, and then he meant to continue where he left off with his mistress He was with his mistress AFTER you were married to him. He told her your marriage was one of INconvenience"

There was a soft knock at the door, but Dara was so immersed in misery she didn't hear anything until Bom had walked into the bedchamber and closed the door. "Dara?"

Startled, Dara turned her head and looked round. Bom took one look at her friend's anguished, tear-streaked face, and rushed to her side. "Dear God!" Bom whispered in horror, kneeling in front of Dara and pulling out her handkerchief, almost babbling in her agitated alarm. "Why are you crying? Has he done something to you? Did he rage at you or strike you?"

Dara swallowed and looked at her, but she could not drag her voice past the lump of tears in . Bom's husband had been Jiyong's closest friend, she knew, and now she wondered where Bom's loyalties would lie. She shook her head and took the handkerchief from Bom.

“Dara" Bom cried in mounting alarm. "Talk to me, please! I'm your friend, and I'll always be," she said, correctly interpreting the reason for Dara's wary expression. "You can't keep this bottled up inside you're as white as a ghost and you look ready to faint."

Dara had briefly confided to Bom that she had been an utter blind fool about Jiyong, but she had never mentioned his complete lack of feeling for her, and had also concealed her shame behind a facade of amused self-mockery. Now, however, it was there in all its , mute misery for Bom to see, as Dara haltingly related all the humiliating details of her relationship with G dragon, leaving nothing out. Throughout the tale, Bom frequently shook her head in sympathetic amusement at Dara’s naive outpouring of her heart to jiyong, but she did not smile when Dara told her of G dragons's intention to pack her off to Devon.

Dara finished by relating Jiyongs's explanation for his disappearance, and when she was done Bom patted her hand. "All that's in the past. What about the future do you have any sort of plan?" "Yes," Dara said with quiet force. "I want a divorce!" "What?" Bom gasped. "You can't be serious!" Dara was deadly serious and said so.

"A divorce is unthinkable," Bom said, dismissing that alternative in a few short sentences. "You would be an outcast, Dara. Even my husband, who gives me my head in nearly everything, would forbid me to be in your company. You'd be barred from decent society everywhere, shut off from everyone."

"That is still preferable to being married to him and shut away somewhere in Devon." "Perhaps it seems so to you now, but in any case it doesn't matter how you feel. I'm quite certain your husband would have to agree to a divorce, and I can't imagine that he will. Even so, they must be very difficult to obtain, and you'd need grounds, as well as G dragon consent."

"I was thinking about that when you came in, and it seems to me I already have grounds, and I may not need his consent at all. In the first place, I was coerced into this marriage by circumstances. Secondly, at our wedding, he vowed to love and honor me, but he had no intention of ever doing either that surely must be grounds enough to get either an annulment or a divorce, with or without his consent. However, I don't see why he'll refuse his consent," Dara added with a flash of anger. "He never wished to marry me in the first place."

"Well," Bom shot back, "that doesn't mean he'll like having everyone know you don't want him anymore."

"When he has time to consider the plan, he'll be bound to feel relieved to have me off his hands." Bom shook her head. "I'm not so certain he wants you off his hands. I saw the way he looked at Youngbae in church today he did not look relieved, he looked furious!"

"He is ill-tempered by nature," Dara said with disgust, recalling their interview downstairs. "He has no reason whatsoever to be angry with Youngbae or me." "No reason!" Bom repeated in disbelief. "Why, you were about to marry another man!" "I can't see what difference that should make. As I just said, he didn't want to marry me in the first place."

"But that doesn't mean he'll want anyone else to marry you," Bom wisely replied. "In any case it doesn't matter. A divorce is simply out of the question. There has to be some other solution. My husband returned from Japan today," she said enthusiastically. "I shall ask Top for advice. He is very wise." Her face fell. "Unfortunately, he also considers G dragon’s as his closest friend, so his advice will be somewhat colored by that. However," she said with absolute finality, "a divorce is positively beyond considering. There must be an alternative."

She fell silent for several long moments, lost in her own thoughts, her forehead furrowed. "It's little wonder you fell like a rock for him," she said with a small, compassionate smile. "Dozens of the most sophisticated flirts in Seoul tumbled head over heels for him," she continued thoughtfully. "But except for indulging in an occasional fling with one of them, he never showed any sign of reciprocating their feelings. Naturally, now that he is back, everyone will expect you to tumble straight into his arms particularly because Society is, at this very moment, recollecting how blindly infatuated with him you were when you first came to town."

The realization that Bom was perfectly correct made Dara feel quite violently ill. Leaning her head against the back of the sofa, she swallowed and closed her eyes in sublime misery. "I hadn't thought of that, but you're absolutely right."

"Of course I am," Bom absently agreed. "On the other hand," she declared, her eyes beginning to shine, "wouldn't it be delightful if the opposite happens!"

"What do you mean?" "The ideal solution to the entire problem is for him to fall in love with you. That would enable you to keep your pride and your husband." "Bom," Dara said dampingly. "First of all, I don't think anyone could make that man fall in love, because he doesn't have a heart. Secondly, even if he does have one, it's certainly immune to me. Thirdly"

Laughing, Bom caught Dara's arm, hauled her off the sofa and pulled her to the mirror. "That was before. Look into the mirror, Dara. The female looking back at you right now has Seoul at her feet! Men are quarreling over you"

Dara sighed, looking at Bom in the mirror rather than her own image. "Only because I've become a sort of absurd, fashionable rage like damping one's skirts. It's fashionable for the moment for men to fancy themselves in love with me."

"How delightful," said Bom, more pleased than before. "Kwon is in for the shock of his life when he realizes it."

A brief flare of amusement stirred in Dara's eyes, then abruptly dimmed. "It doesn't matter." "Oh, yes, it does!" Bom laughed. "Only consider this: For the first time in his life, Kwon has competition and for his own wife! Think how Society will relish the spectacle of Seoul's most practiced libertine, trying without early success to seduce and subdue his own wife."

"There's another reason why it won't work," Dara said firmly.

"What is that?"

"I won't do it. Even if I could accomplish it, which I can't, I don't want to try."

"But why?" Bom burst out. "Why ever not?"

"Because," Dara declared hotly, "I don't like him! I do not want him to love me, I do not even want him near me." So saying, she walked over to the bellpull to ring for tea. "Nevertheless, it is still the only and best solution to this coil." Snatching up her gloves and reticule, Bom pressed a kiss to Dara's forehead. "You're shocked and exhausted, you aren't thinking clearly. Leave everything to me.

She was halfway across the room when Dara realized that Bom seemed to have a specific destination in mind and that she was in some haste to get there. "Where are you going, Bom?" she asked suspiciously.

"To see Wooyoung," Bom said, turning in the doorway. "He can be depended upon to make certain Kwon informed at the earliest possible moment that you are no longer the naive, unsophisticated country mouse he may think you are. Wooyoung will adore doing it," Bom predicted cheerfully. "It's exactly the sort of rabble-rousing he most enjoys."

"Bom, wait!" Dara burst out tiredly, but she did not particularly object to this part of Bom's plan not at this moment when exhaustion was beginning to overwhelm her. "Promise me you won't do anything else without telling me."

"Very well," Bom said gaily and vanished with a wave. Dara leaned her head back and closed her eyes as drowsiness began to overcome her.

The clock chiming the hour of ten, combined with the incessant arrivals of callers in the main hall downstairs, finally brought her fully awake. Leaning on an elbow, Dara blinked her eyes in the gloom of her room,surprised that she had somehow fallen asleep on the settee at what was normally considered a very early hour of the evening. She listened to the commotion downstairs, the constant opening and closing of the front door, and she sat up, groggily wondering why the entire haute ton seemed to be arriving on their doorstep  And then she remembered.

G dragon was back.

Evidently everyone thought he was here, and they were too eager to see him and speak to him to follow their own precepts of decorum, which would have required them at least to wait until tomorrow to call. G dragon must have anticipated this, Dara decided irritably, as she got up and changed into a silk peignoir and climbed into bed. That was probably why he had chosen to spend the night at Yejin’shouse, leaving the rest of them here to try to deal with the furor of callers.

Her husband, she had no doubt, was blissfully in his bed, and enjoying a peaceful night.