Lady Mary Tillinger had been demoted to the dreaded poor relation and been bundled from relation to relation for years. Her last position had been the worst. A distant cousin, the spoiled son of the house, had set his sights on having her. She had resisted him rather spectacularly and been thrown out of the house in the middle of the night with little more than what she stood up in, right into the middle of an ice storm. Given little choice, she had fled down the carriage road in hopes of finding shelter before she froze to death. A stranger to this countryside, all she could do was pray for a shed, a barn, or even a hayrick. Lord Conifer, Julian to his friends, had barely escaped a compromising entrapment set up by avaricious relatives including his mother and was fleeing them, and the perspective bride, in an open curricle in a snow storm with a tired team when he fell over the freezing bundle that was Mary. Lady Mary. Snow or no snow, he had to take her up or give up calling himself a gentleman. It was up to him to get the lady, his horses, and himself to shelter. Compromised beyond repair, he discovers that entrapment never looked so good. But would she take her newfound annuity and flee to her own cottage? Or would she consent to have him, rascally relatives and all? Regency, Novella. 27K words