Книга - A Date with Dishonour

A Date with Dishonour
Mary Brendan


LADY SEEKS KIND GENTLEMAN TO OFFER PROTECTION… When a mysterious lady advertises her charms in the newspaper there’s no way Viscount Blackthorne will allow his rash friend to attend the twilight rendezvous. Taking his place, Blackthorne is surprised by the reluctant beauty who appears – she’s far from the scheming courtesan he was expecting.Elise Dewey must protect her foolish sister by posing as ‘Lady Lonesome’ in her stead. She’s shockingly stirred by the imposing stranger who waits for her in Vauxhall Gardens – but their liaison has been observed… And unless Elise accepts the Viscount’s bold proposal of marriage they will all be plunged into scandal!







Lady seeks kind gentleman to offer protection…

When a mysterious lady advertises her charms in the newspaper, there’s no way Viscount Blackthorne will allow his rash friend to attend the twilight rendezvous. Taking his place, Blackthorne is surprised by the reluctant beauty who appears—she’s far from the scheming courtesan he was expecting.

Elise Dewey must protect her foolish sister by posing as “Lady Lonesome” in her stead. She’s shockingly stirred by the imposing stranger who waits for her in Vauxhall Gardens—but their liaison has been observed… Unless Elise accepts the viscount’s bold proposal of marriage, they will all be plunged into scandal!


‘If you do not let me pass this instant I shall scream and accuse you of behaviour most unbecoming to a gentleman.’

Elise clung to her indignation in the hope that it might subdue her rising panic.

‘Indeed?’ He sounded bored. ‘And I shall accuse you of behaviour most unbecoming to a lady. But I think we both know you are not.’

As she backed away from him, darting glances to and fro, Alex swept back his jacket to plunge his fists on his hips. He was tied between impatience and intrigue. Novice Jezebel maybe, but she had perfected the persona of a prim maiden and it was definitely not the reaction he was used to arousing when he was stranded with a woman in the dark.

‘Are you saying you aren’t Lady Lonesome?’ he demanded.

‘Do I look as though I might adopt such a ridiculous soubriquet?’


Praise for Mary Brendan:

‘Brendan casts a spell almost from the first page of this second instalment in her series about the Hunter brothers. Her skilful use of language paints word pictures. The sexual tension between the hero and heroine is palpable, and the plot has many twists that keeps the reader riveted.’

—RT Book Reviews on THE WANTON BRIDE

‘Accomplished talent Mary Brendan is very adept at telling both sides of a love story, which easily doubles the readers’ pleasure.’

—RT Book Reviews on A KIND AND DECENT MAN


Author Note

Most young women dream of finding a perfect mate. In reality, the quest for “the one” is rarely easy, and never more so than in Regency England’s polite society, where etiquette and social class presented barriers to ill-starred lovers.

In A Date with Dishonor, Elise Dewey would sooner forgo marriage than endure the sort of mésalliance that caused her warring parents such unhappiness. But she is persuaded to move to town to assist her sister’s search for a husband despite her misgivings that Beatrice is going about things in a hazardous way. When her sister’s unorthodox methods of attracting a man cause a calamity to befall them, it is innocent Elise who bears the brunt of the disgrace. Alex Blackthorne is a womanizing rogue—just the sort of fellow Elise has tried to avoid—yet now she is at his mercy, sensually enslaved by the charismatic viscount, despite their families having tangled tragically in the past.…

The second novel in the series will feature Beatrice as the heroine. She has been unlucky in love, and has been taught a hard lesson about taking risks with her reputation and virtue. At the age of twenty-five, she seems content to live quietly in the countryside with her beloved papa. Then an old flame turns up out of the blue, reigniting in Beatrice a yearning she believed she’d conquered long ago.

I hope you enjoy reading about the Dewey sisters’ tears and laughter while looking for love as much as I have liked writing the stories for you.


A Date with Dishonor

Mary Brendan




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


MARY BRENDAN was born in North London, but now lives in rural Suffolk. She has always had a fascination with bygone days, and enjoys the research involved in writing historical fiction. When not at her word processor, she can be found trying to bring order to a large overgrown garden, or browsing local fairs and junk shops for that elusive bargain.

Novels by the same author:

WEDDING NIGHT REVENGE*

THE UNKNOWN WIFE*

A SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE*

THE RAKE AND THE REBEL*

A PRACTICAL MISTRESS†

THE WANTON BRIDE†

THE VIRTUOUS COURTESAN**

THE RAKE’S DEFIANT MISTRESS**

CHIVALROUS RAKE, SCANDALOUS LADY††

DANGEROUS LORD, SEDUCTIVE MISS††

*The Meredith Sisters †The Hunter Brothers **linked by character ††Regency Rogues

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk


Contents

Chapter One (#ua01a8cb2-7940-5c19-9dec-004985147d2f)

Chapter Two (#u68f0b99d-41e0-54d1-8261-8e440a9cd318)

Chapter Three (#u2885b66a-9777-5e41-a981-67d6844c4d54)

Chapter Four (#u4d8ffbfc-dbd4-5dd5-86dc-7844fe6efc4c)

Chapter Five (#u4dfb137d-988c-57c7-be77-8b85087b6282)

Chapter Six (#u09e1586e-9ec4-53ef-8d1e-22b3aed4e9f9)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

‘Hell’s teeth, give it up, man. Can’t you see how vulgar it all is?’

The weary censure had been directed at a gentleman who gave no more response than to deepen the furrow in his brow. He leaned forwards, resting his chin in his cupped hands, absorbed in his reading.

Viscount Blackthorne adjusted his neckcloth with nimble fingers but, when his friend continued frowning at the newsprint spread on the table, he turned impatiently from his reflection to whip the offending paper out from under the fellow’s elbows. Having efficiently folded the gazette, his lordship tossed it on to a wing chair.

Hugh Kendrick huffed in indignation, lolling back in his seat with a sulky expression. ‘Well, something’s got to be done, Alex. If I don’t offer to pay Whittiker soon, the odious skinflint will dun me. Then everybody else will pitch in. Only needs one of ’em to start the ball rolling and my desk will be groaning under the weight of writs.’ His glum face again sought the support of his hands. ‘If I end in the Fleet my mother will have a fit, and Toby...’ the mention of his older brother caused his mouth to twist in a grimace ‘...no doubt Toby will demand a dawn appointment on Clapham Common because I’ve sullied the family name.’

‘Don’t be so damned melodramatic.’ Alex Blackthorne’s lack of sympathy held a hint of amusement. A moment later he was once more contemplating his appearance, long patrician fingers dusting an immaculate broad shoulder encased in charcoal superfine. ‘You’re not the first man to have let a woman make a fool of him and bring him close to ruin.’

‘You wouldn’t let it happen to you.’ A look of begrudging admiration shaped Hugh’s features.

‘No...I wouldn’t.’ Alex grinned lopsidedly at the glass, but decided not to rub salt into his old friend’s smarting wound by elaborating. He’d already given him his opinion, on numerous occasions, on the subject of idiots who allowed courtesans to fleece them.

Hugh sprung to his feet, snatching up the gazette. ‘I reckon it’s a sound idea and I’d found one that seemed just the ticket. Here, I’ll read it to you...’

A protracted muttering accompanied Alex raising his deep-brown eyes heavenwards.

Ignoring his friend’s weary cursing, Hugh began, ‘Lady Lonesome, desperate to free herself from the constraints of a cruel guardian, seeks kind gentleman to offer protection from...’

A snort of laughter curtailed Hugh’s recitation. ‘Methinks the lonesome lady is keener on a plump wallet than a kind gentleman.’ Alex quirked an eyebrow. ‘You should suit each other well. She’s after the same thing you are.’

‘Ah...ha!’ Hugh exclaimed in triumph. ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. Had you let me finish...’ He shook the paper in emphasis, then resumed, ‘...she seeks a kind gentleman to offer protection...’ a dramatic pause preceded ‘...from fortune hunters as an income of two thousand pounds per annum is available to an applicant able to convince her he is in possession of sincerity and a desire and capability to be a caring husband and father.’ Hugh looked up with an expectant smile. ‘She sounds rather sweet and—’

‘And she sounds rather pregnant.’

Hugh’s jaw sagged. ‘You think...because she requires the fellow to be a good father...?’

Alex shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time desperate parents attempted to buy back a girl’s sullied virtue by getting a ring on her finger.’ He chuckled at the astonished look his comment had provoked. ‘Come on, Hugh,’ the Viscount ribbed gently. ‘If anyone should know that, it’s you.’ Alex watched his friend colouring miserably, but felt unremorseful. Hugh was a good friend, but it was high time he toughened up. Alex knew he might not always be around to save the fellow from his niceness and naivety.

A year ago Hugh Kendrick had been burdened with the task, and the cost, of salvaging his sister’s reputation when she’d allowed a callous charmer to compromise her. Toby, her brother and legal guardian, had refused to chip in a penny piece to protect their widowed mother from the shame that would have besmirched them all had his sister’s disgrace become common knowledge.

‘Never mind, Lady Lonesome’s cash will come in handy.’ Alex patted his friend’s shoulder. Despite his mockery, he was beginning to find it all quite intriguing. He relieved Hugh of the paper and read for himself her requirements in a mate.

‘Why in heaven’s name would she need to advertise for a husband if she’s a modest heiress?’ He shot his friend a darkly humorous glance. ‘If she’s not a fallen woman, perhaps she’s way past her prime and has ample girth and greying hair.’

‘I don’t think I care overmuch either way,’ Hugh responded mordantly. ‘She can be as fat or faded as she likes. It’s the colour of her money I’m interested in.’

‘You and a hundred other fellows with pockets to let who’ve read that.’ Alex returned the paper to his friend. ‘You know I’ve said I’ll lend you the money.’ His tone quietened, growing serious. ‘You’ve not yet come to such a sorry pass that you’ll need to rear another man’s bastard, or risk getting leg-shackled to an old crone with a few pounds in the bank.’

‘And I’ve said I won’t take your money...not again.’ Hugh turned his head to conceal his florid cheeks. Alex had paid off his debts once before. On that occasion he had been blameless for the mess he’d been in: a victim of his sister’s folly. Sarah had since settled with a husband in Cheshire and Hugh thought his money...Alex’s money, he mentally corrected himself...very well spent. But he’d sworn never again to take advantage of his friend’s wealth or generosity, and he didn’t intend to go back on his word.

Besides, he was twenty-nine, and for some while had been contemplating the benefits of settling down with a wife. He was the youngest son of a baronet and had few prospects and fewer responsibilities. For some months he had been feeling the lack and wondering whether a wife and children might fill a gap in his life.

‘She might be personable and sincere,’ Hugh insisted optimistically, having again studied the advertisement. Instead of considering a wife as a pretty appendage, he was beginning to properly value an advantageous match and a lifelong companion.

‘True...and I might be the Prince Regent...’ Viscount Blackthorne intoned repressively.

* * *

Elise Dewey’s complexion drained of blood till it resembled the colour of the parchment on which she’d been writing. She was used to her older sister’s hare-brained schemes to get rich or get wed, but so far Beatrice had put none into action. Whilst writing to her friend, Verity, Elise had been listening with scant attention to her older sibling’s chatter. But then Bea had waved at her the proof that this plot was no idle boast.

‘You are joking, of course,’ Elise finally burst out in a hushed tone. She gazed aghast at the gazette that Beatrice had been flapping in the air.

‘No, I’m not!’ Bea retorted, dropping the newspaper back to the table. ‘It’s the only way to get away from here. It’s not my fault our parents have got us in such a mess. I’m twenty-three soon and I want a husband before I get any longer in the tooth. With no portion, and no means for a social life in this dreary neck of the woods, it’s the only way to do it. How are we ever to meet gentlemen if we can’t afford to go out?’

‘And how are you to explain away the fact you’ve not got two thousand pounds or even two hundred to offer any fellow?’ Elise had jumped to her feet and marched over to Beatrice. Her eyes widened as she scanned the notice. ‘You’re mad! Utterly insane!’ Her tawny gaze sprang to her sister’s profile. ‘Have you any idea what sort of villains or perverts you might entice to our door?’

‘I’m not daft enough to give out our direction. Of course, any fellow who replies to the box number will be advised we are to meet somewhere.’ Bea avoided her sister’s angry stare and carelessly twirled a pearly ringlet about a finger in order to prove she was quite relaxed about what she’d done.

Elise could tell Beatrice wasn’t as insouciant as she’d like to appear. ‘And how does Lady Lonesome think such hardened fortune hunters will react when they find out she’s lied and has nothing to offer?’

That comment prompted Bea to rise from her chair and peer at her face in the mantelpiece mirror. ‘I wouldn’t say I’ve nothing to offer.’ She cocked her head. ‘When he sees me he might forget about the money...’ She smiled, proudly tilting her chin.

Elise allowed Bea her conceit. Her sister might be what society classed as past her prime, but still she was lovely to look at. Her eyes were cornflower blue, lushly fringed with long inky lashes, and her pale blonde curls always sat in perfect array about her heart-shaped face, whereas Elise’s own darker blonde mop tended to resist any maid’s attempts to style it. Of course...now there were no maids, and only Mr and Mrs Francis, their faithful old retainers, remained with the Dewey family and acted as general staff to the best of their ability.

‘If only Mama had taken me to live with her in London, I’d be married now.’ Beatrice sighed. ‘Some fellow would have offered for me. I wouldn’t care who he was...he could be old and ugly so long as he had enough standing to let me live a little before I die.’

‘But she didn’t take you,’ Elise returned shortly. ‘Mama didn’t want us. She wanted her lover, and now she is dead,’ she concluded, a catch to her voice. ‘Papa has his faults, but at least he didn’t abandon us.’

‘I wish he had,’ Beatrice hissed, spinning away from her reflection. ‘I didn’t want to be dragged to the sticks to moulder away and expire as a spinster. I’d rather have thrown myself on some rich fellow’s mercy.’

‘I don’t think you mean that,’ Elise replied, annoyed by her sister’s hint that she’d rather be a gentleman’s mistress than endure boredom.

Beatrice blushed, but her lips slanted mutinously, letting Elise know that she wasn’t about to take back her outrageous comment.

‘You’d better hope Papa doesn’t find out what you’re doing or saying!’ Elise warned, her vivid eyes widening in emphasis. ‘If he gets to know you’ve put in print he’s a cruel guardian, and that you’re touting yourself about, you really will end in a convent.’ Mr Dewey’s pet threat when exasperated by his daughters’ behaviour was to send them to take vows.

‘Even that might be better than living here,’ Bea declared theatrically.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Elise swept up the gazette and with no further ado tossed it on to the flickering fire that had burned very low in the grate for want of fuel to nourish it.

Bea gawped at the blackening paper for no more than a few seconds before plunging downwards to try and retrieve it.

‘Don’t be so daft.’ Elise pulled her sister back from the hearth as Bea sucked a scorched digit. ‘At least we’ll get some benefit from it if it burns for a while and keeps us warm.’

* * *

‘You’ll get every penny I owe you.’

‘Oh, yes, indeed I will.’ James Whittiker stalked about the card table his low-lidded eyes on the pot of money at its centre. ‘I’ll take it out of your hide else, Kendrick.’ It was an unconvincing threat. Despite being in his mid-twenties James Whittiker was overweight and unfit, whereas Hugh Kendrick was a fine figure of a man, known to regularly attend the gymnasium. Unless Whittiker intended setting someone else on his debtor he would come off worst in a scrap. The assembly knew it and a few rumbles of mirth increased the redness veining Whittiker’s cheeks.

‘What I want to know is, when will you hand over what you owe?’ James flicked a finger at the stake money. ‘Is there any chance some of that will be yours? If so, I’ll just hover in the vicinity and relieve you of it in a while, shall I?’ His sarcasm drew another ripple of amusement; those who had been observing the play knew that Hugh was losing.

‘You sound desperate, James.’ Alex Blackthorne discarded a card on to the baize. He stretched his booted feet out under the table and settled his powerful shoulders against the chair back. ‘Having a spot of trouble selling Grantham Place, are you?’ He raised lazy brown eyes to a pink, jowly face. ‘My offer is still on the table.’

‘Take it back. I’ve no use for such a derisory sum,’ James sneered.

‘It’s the best of the six you’ve had,’ Alex answered evenly. ‘That should tell you something about your expectations where the estate is concerned.’

‘It tells me you’re a cheat and a fraudster, just like your father before you.’ Immediately Whittiker regretted having let seething frustration make him recklessly incautious. He glanced about to see a score or more pairs of eyes had swivelled his way, some viciously amused.

The clientele of White’s Club were used to overhearing heated exchanges between its members; they were also used to the possible outcome if traded insults escalated and led to a dawn meeting in a misty glade. Several gentlemen no longer patronised this establishment, or any other, because they had fled abroad to escape arrest. They were the fortunate ones; other duellists no longer drew breath following an unsuccessful fight to protect their honour.

James knew that if Alex Blackthorne now got to his feet and challenged him to name his seconds a grovelling apology was his only option. The viscount was an excellent shot and his fencing skill had been likened to that of a professional. James wasn’t prepared to risk being killed or maimed because of a moment of madness. He stabbed a poisonous stare at Hugh Kendrick. It was his fault. The viscount had only chipped in that comment about Grantham to take pressure off his blasted impecunious friend.

Alex was aware of the fomenting excitement in the room. Gentlemen reacted to a hint of a duel like a pack of hyenas scenting a carcase. He sensed several had already quit their tables to stealthily, determinedly, approach and gather behind his chair. Ancient Lord Brentley had seemed to be snoozing behind a newspaper on a sagging sofa. Now he was on his feet in a sprightly shove and ambling over.

Alex folded his hand and skimmed the cards over the baize before leisurely getting to his feet. He approached Whittiker and laid a large hand on one of his fat shoulders. The fellow’s nervous quivering was quite tangible through wool. ‘I don’t think you meant to say that, did you, James?’

Whittiker licked his parched lips. The viscount was giving him a way out, but to take it would brand him ever more as a coward prepared to dishonour his family name to save his skin.

From his superior height Alex inclined his dark head to listen for Whittiker’s response. The hushed atmosphere within the room seemed to extend into eternity.

Abruptly the sound of shattering glass splintered the silence. A steward had speeded into the room carrying a tray of decanters and crashed into a table whilst craning his neck to see what had made the club members congregate close to the fireplace.

‘I apologise, Blackthorne; mouth ran away with me,’ Whittiker muttered, using the ensuing confusion to drown out his words.

Alex was aware of the fellow’s insincerity. Whittiker hadn’t even met his eyes whilst speaking. Nevertheless, he gave his shoulder a pat before turning away.

Aware of a score or more pairs of despising eyes on him, James shoved through the throng of gentlemen towards the exit.


Chapter Two

‘I shan’t beg an invitation from the Chapmans, so please don’t nag about it.’

‘But why will you not?’ Bea gestured in exasperation. ‘Verity constantly invites you to stay with her in London, yet you rarely go. She always comes here instead and costs Papa her keep, which he can ill afford. Just a hint from you that we would love to see her and soon we would be booking our places on the mail coach.’

Privately Elise agreed with her sister’s calculation; Verity would immediately issue an invitation should she imply she would like one. Verity was a dear friend from schooldays and hadn’t shunned her when her parents’ disgrace became common knowledge. Neither had Mr and Mrs Chapman turned their backs on them all. ‘You know why I will not do it.’ Elise sighed. ‘Last time we were there you embarrassed us both by insisting we outstay our welcome. We were invited to be houseguests for two weeks yet you wangled for a longer stay, although you know Mr and Mrs Chapman are not well off. I practically had to drag you home.’

‘Mr Vaughan had started paying me attention. It would have been silly to leave at such a time.’ Beatrice had the grace to blush despite her forceful excuse.

‘Mr Vaughan knew full well where you lived in Hertfordshire. I recall you telling him several times,’ Elise responded drily. ‘He would have come after you had his intentions been as serious as you’d imagined them to be.’

‘He did like me.’ Bea’s obstinate tone couldn’t conceal an undercurrent of hurt.

‘Yes, I know,’ Elise concurred softly. ‘Unfortunately his fiancée had a firm grip on him. And now they are married.’

‘He told me if Papa had even a little to offer to ease his financial situation he’d propose in an instant. He only got betrothed to her because cash was dangled by her father.’

‘It tends to make a big difference,’ Elise agreed on a sigh. ‘That’s why I’m amazed you think this harebrained scheme of yours will work. Mr Vaughan liked you very much, yet he was unable to wed a woman without good connections or a dowry to recommend her.’ She frowned as Bea continued staring dreamily into space.

‘Will you write and ask Verity if we may stay for just one week?’ Beatrice was acting as though she’d not attended to a single sensible word Elise had uttered.

‘Tell me truthfully,’ Elise demanded. ‘Have you received replies to your advert? Is that why you want to go to town—to meet fortune hunters on neutral ground?’ From the moment Beatrice had started pestering her to get them to London Elise had feared her sister was planning to disgrace herself—perhaps them all—by risking secretly meeting a gentleman.

Beatrice hesitated just a fraction too long before issuing a denial.

‘I knew it!’ Elise gasped. ‘You’ve made an assignation with a stranger to beg him to marry you!’

‘I won’t need to beg,’ Bea said airily. ‘I’ve had a dozen or more replies, but only two seem worth considering.’ She grinned at Elise. ‘Some have sworn that the money is not a temptation and they simply have fallen a little in love with me after reading my sweet prose.’ She chuckled. ‘What piffle! I can spot a liar a mile off.’

‘Do you think these two gentlemen you are pinning your hopes on aren’t able to do the same?’ Elise choked a mirthless laugh. ‘Your respondents are doubtless not as gullible or upstanding as you hope they’ll be.’

‘Neither am I gullible,’ Beatrice asserted. ‘I want a fellow who’s honest enough to admit my money was a lure. Of course, he’ll also need to have sufficient income of his own and to like me well enough to propose when he finds out I have nothing. We must then both try hard to make a go of it. But I can forgo luxuries.’ She continued sourly, ‘I am well used to doing so.’

‘Nevertheless, I think you want too much,’ her sister told her. ‘Your chosen two might suspect you are a doxy touting for business, then you’ll be in grave trouble as they won’t have falling in love or marriage on their minds.’

‘They don’t need to fall in love with me. I just want a kind husband and a little family.’ Beatrice hung her head, concealing her yearning expression with a curtain of blonde locks. ‘Is that too much to ask?’

A surge of emotion overwhelmed Elise on hearing her sister’s plaintive wail. A hiccup of breath caught in her throat, bringing a salty sting to her eyes. Of course, she knew it was not too much to want! How often had she daydreamed about something similar for herself? But painful memories of her parents’ miserable life had damaged her ideal of romantic love. She’d seen there was a dark side to desire that was selfish and cruel.

‘Why are you acting so silly?’ Elise demanded in frustration. ‘You might bring disaster down on all our heads if you carry on with this.’ She quickly approached her sister, clasping her hands. ‘I will talk to Papa and ask him to arrange for Aunt Dolly to give us board and lodging in Hammersmith. She knows a few good families, and if she arranges some social outings you might meet a gentleman in the customary way instead of resorting to this daft—’

‘I have already asked Papa,’ Bea interrupted despondently. ‘He insists he can’t afford frivolities like trips to town to see Aunt Dolly. He says his sister is a tight-fist who will want a pretty penny to feed us mutton and cabbage.’ She glowered at Elise. ‘He’s right, too. She served up scraps last time we went there. Papa said why don’t I ask you if we can arrange a trip to stay with your friend Verity Chapman, for it will be more pleasant and economic.’

Elise turned away, her brow puckered in thought. Her sister was not to be dissuaded from her pursuit of a husband. Beatrice’s need to be away from the dreary life in the countryside was making her very depressed at times.

For almost seven years they had shared a bedchamber in the cottage their father continued to rent. As the time had progressed Elise had been woken at night by the sound of her sister weeping softly into her pillow. Bea’s melancholy was now overtaking her during the daytime too and Elise didn’t want to see her sister seriously ill.

Walter Dewey surfaced from his papers and ledgers on occasions to notice what went on in his household and had more than once enquired of Elise what ailed his eldest daughter. On hearing the truth he tended to become impatient. He would then impress on them both—usually as they ate their dinner, and with much tapping of cutlery on china for emphasis—that the fearful plight of those less fortunate made him proud that, as a fellow abandoned by a weak woman, he was able to keep his two daughters in adequate fashion, despite the constant trial of it all.

Elise glanced at her sister’s miserable countenance. If they went to stay with Verity, perhaps it might be possible to put Beatrice in the path of a decent bachelor who might fall for her and propose. Their papa would have his oldest child settled and the financial burden on him would be eased.

‘I’ll write to Verity on one condition,’ Elise said. ‘You must promise not to contact any of these ne’er-do-wells who have replied to your advert.’ Having received Bea’s brisk nod and breathy affirmative, Elise continued, ‘But I won’t badger for an invitation if I receive an ambiguous reply. You know they are not much better off than are we, and now that Fiona has a beau Mr Chapman might soon have the expense of her wedding to pay for.’

Verity had written recently to let Elise know that her older sister was at last being courted. Fiona was a pleasant-looking young woman who had seemed content to let romance pass her by. Even during her début she’d seemed happier at home drawing landscapes than seeking a husband. Elise gathered from her friend’s amusing prose that neither the fellow’s appearance nor his character was attractive, and that Verity was of the opinion her older sibling should have stuck to her watercolours.

Elise became aware that Beatrice was waiting expectantly for her to continue. ‘I will try to get you your wish...’ Elise squealed as Beatrice rushed to thank her with a hug before she’d finished speaking.

* * *

‘Ah...Mr Chapman is here!’ Elise exclaimed in relief. She urged her sister to pick up her portmanteau.

‘So sorry to be late,’ Anthony Chapman burst out as he heaved his bulk from the trap to politely assist the young ladies on to it. ‘A costermonger had turned his cart over and I had a devil of a job getting through the press of carriages. It all got very heated and I thought a fight might break out between two jarveys.’ He wheezed in air. ‘I hope the way is now clear or we will be delayed on the road back.’

Verity’s papa seemed stricken to have missed the appointed hour to meet them on alighting from the mail coach to transport them to his home in Marylebone.

‘It is no trouble to us to have waited a few minutes,’ Elise replied soothingly. ‘It is very kind of you to fetch us. We could have hailed a hackney, after all, and saved you the journey.’

‘No...no...’ Mr Chapman flapped a stout hand whilst the other assisted in hoisting him back up on to the carriage seat. ‘Wouldn’t hear of it, m’dear. It’s a pleasure to see you both and looking so very well.’ Having sucked in a heavy breath, he turned his head and beamed at the young ladies seated beside him. ‘And your papa is in good health, I trust?’

‘Indeed he is, sir, and he sends you and Mrs Chapman his very best wishes.’

Anthony patted at Elise’s closest hand. ‘Verity will be so pleased to see you. As will Fiona, although she is in a tizz over Mr Whittiker.’ His mouth drooped to blow a sigh. ‘Her mama is pleased, of course, that she has a beau.’

Elise noticed his furrowed brow and had the impression that Mr Chapman was no more enamoured of the idea of Mr Whittiker joining his family than was Verity.


Chapter Three

‘For country misses you have pretty manners.’

Elise rewarded the fellow’s faint praise with a cool smile. ‘Indeed, thank you, Mr Whittiker.’ He’d come too close to her and, stepping away, she added, ‘We like to think ourselves housetrained.’ She dipped him a curtsy but he continued smirking and Elise realised he was too thick-skinned to comprehend the insolence in her answer.

‘We were reared in London, sir,’ Beatrice cheerfully explained, having overheard his crass remark yet seemingly unaffected by it. ‘We moved to Hertfordshire many years ago, worse luck...’ She fidgeted uneasily beneath Elise’s swift cautionary look.

‘Have some more tea, sir.’ Verity had grabbed up the pot and hurried towards him to hinder him from pursuing the conversation, or Elise for that matter. He had seemed to dog her friend’s footsteps as she moved from bookcase to bookcase, attempting to shake him off her shoulder. ‘I tried to give a hint about him when I last wrote to you,’ she murmured, refilling Elise’s cup.

‘I fear no hint could do justice to Mr Whittiker,’ Elise returned ruefully, stirring her tea and watching Fiona shyly conversing with her beau. Elise had always considered Fiona to be a bit too nice, but nobody’s fool. She certainly still thought her over-obliging, but was beginning, sadly, to suspect perhaps she might be a fool to be encouraging an oafish fellow to court her.

‘I’m baffled, too, by what Fiona thinks she is about.’ Verity had correctly read Elise’s concerns as they settled down together on a sofa. ‘But I know what’s drawn him in.’ She glowered sideways at James. ‘Our grandmother has recently passed on and left Fiona a little nest egg.’ Despite their distance from the room’s other occupants Verity continued concealing her lips with her teacup. ‘She has left me the same amount, but in trust until I reach twenty-one. On reflection I’m quite glad of that as Mr Whittiker might have turned his attention to me instead.’

Verity was six months younger than her, thus Elise knew her friend must wait another year and a half to lay claim to her cash. ‘You think Mr Whittiker has found out about the inheritance and is a fortune hunter?’

‘I’m almost certain of it. It is three thousand pounds, not a fabulous sum, but I overheard Papa telling Mama that the fund is enough of a lure for a man like James Whittiker who has his pockets permanently to let. Papa seems very suspicious of his motives, but Mama is simply relieved that one of us might soon be sporting a ring.’ Verity sighed. ‘She has been chivvying Fiona to get herself off the shelf. Whittiker can claim good connections—and believe me, he does constantly boast about his uncle who is a baronet.’

‘Perhaps there is a genuine fondness between them.’ Elise glanced at the couple, noticing they appeared to be chatting amiably.

‘Hah!’ Verity snorted quietly. ‘He has a habit of ogling me that makes me think he is not as besotted with my sister as he’d like us all to believe.’

Elise knew the fellow had an unsettling habit of sidling up and standing far too close for comfort while ogling her bosom.

On their arrival earlier Verity had immediately whispered an apology to Elise because they were to be burdened with Mr Whittiker’s presence. She’d explained that he’d called on Fiona yesterday and, discovering that young ladies were expected on the morrow, had prised an invitation from Mrs Chapman to join them at teatime to welcome the Dewey sisters to London.

‘Mr Whittiker has offered to accompany us to Vauxhall on Friday. We’ll have a nice time, won’t we?’ Having noticed her younger daughter and Elise were deep in private conversation, Maude Chapman had loudly addressed the pair in an attempt to draw them into discussing the week’s social agenda.

Maude was always glad to offer hospitality to her daughters’ friends. Her husband was not a tight-fist, but he was careful with his money. Yet Maude had noticed that when the Dewey sisters came to stay Anthony’s generosity seemed to improve. She took no offence at her portly spouse’s silly attempts to impress the pretty girls, for everybody benefited from it.

‘But Elise and I have something else planned for Friday.’ It was the only excuse Verity could dream up on the spur of the moment.

Elise didn’t relish spending an evening with James Whittiker either. But a trip to such a popular venue might turn up introductions to a suitable gentleman who might take a fancy to Beatrice. Her sister had also pounced on the opportunity and she gave Elise an energetic nod.

‘It would be nice to go, Verity. I’ve heard Vauxhall is an enchanting place,’ Elise enthused, appeasing her friend with a subtle wink that promised a private explanation would soon be forthcoming.

* * *

‘Please do a recce for me, Alex. It won’t take you more than a few minutes. I’ll take care of Celia while you’re gone.’ Hugh’s eyes darted from his friend’s dark profile to settle apprehensively on the petite brunette dangling from one of his arms. He knew every fellow in the vicinity had her lush body under covert observation and would gladly swap places with him. But Hugh was under no illusions as to what he was taking on. Keeping such a fiery temptress entertained whilst his charismatic friend was running his errand was going to be no easy task. The prospect of fending off her gallants until Alex returned to claim her was alarming.

Celia Chase’s full red lips were aslant, displaying her boredom, because her lover was dividing his time between her and Hugh. One of her slender white fingers began twirling an ebony ringlet, then her exaggerated sighing could be heard as she glanced about.

Viscount Blackthorne turned from his mistress to his friend, a low curse in his throat. Hugh had been hovering at his shoulder and muttering in his ear for some five minutes.

‘There’s no time to lose,’ Hugh insisted, noticing he finally had Alex’s full attention.

Suddenly Alex propelled him away from their group so they might speak privately.

‘I’m due to meet Lady Lonesome at nine o’clock and it’s almost that now.’ Hugh plucked out his watch to check the time.

‘For God’s sake, you’ve got eyes in your head,’ Alex ground out in irritation. ‘If you’re determined to carry on with this lunacy, you can see for yourself if she’s a fright.’

‘Well, yes, I can do that,’ Hugh admitted readily. ‘But I’m not a good judge of character where women are concerned...as you well know.’ The corners of his mouth drooped in self-mockery. ‘Lady Lonesome might be a bewitching beauty, up to no good. I’ll get taken in as I did with Sophia and end up in a worse mess than I am in already. If she’s got a sob story prepared, I’m done for. You know I have a soft heart.’

‘Soft head, more like,’ Alex snapped, jerking his eyes heavenward. But he couldn’t argue with his friend’s self-confessed incompetence with the fairer sex. A good few gentleman who’d had previous dealings with Sophia Sweetman had told Hugh that she was a mercenary madam out for all she could get. He’d not heeded warnings and had acceded to her demand to set her up in style, not casting her off until he’d been almost down to his last shilling.

‘Whereas you...you are pretty clued up about the petticoat set and I’d trust you to spot a fraud a mile off.’

A sour smile acknowledged Hugh’s compliment. Alex pivoted on a heel to glance back towards his mistress and gauge her mood.

Celia was watching them, in between chatting to Sidney Roper. The young Hussar, resplendent in his brocaded uniform, was one of her admirers and had dared to approach her first before Alex had moved far from her side. Aware he was under observation, the young officer jerked him a nod. Alex leisurely returned the salute with a quirk of the lips intended to allay the boy’s fears and stop his Adam’s apple bobbing so violently. Alex’s smile strengthened as he transferred his attention to Celia. He wanted her to know her flirting didn’t bother him.

And it didn’t. He just wished she would allow him similar licence. Their relationship was only six months’ old, yet Alex was already thinking it had run its course. She’d irritated him several times by being too possessive and flouncing over to find out what he was up to if he left her side for too long.

‘I’ll take care of Celia for you,’ Hugh again promised, having noted the direction of Alex’s gaze. He imagined his friend to be, understandably, enthralled by the sultry lovely. Celia was known to be very selective about the gentlemen she allowed to woo her and liked rich influential lovers. She’d be hard pressed to improve on Alex Blackthorne on either count in Hugh’s opinion. Added to which his friend had the broad physique and rugged dark looks that made females flutter and fawn as soon as he entered a room.

‘I’ll have a scout around and have a brief conversation with your blind date—if she’s turned up.’ Alex’s eyes swerved to Hugh, gleaming with mordant humour. ‘But that’s all I’ll do. If you decide to go ahead and meet her, you can charm her yourself.’ He took a prowling pace away, then pivoted and walked backwards while muttering, ‘If Celia cross-examines you...I’ve spotted my mother and have gone to speak to her.’ It was a valid excuse; he’d caught sight of Susannah Blackthorne parading with Lord Mornington about twenty minutes ago. He wanted a word with his mother, although it needn’t have been this evening that he brought up the subject of Miss Winters.

His widowed mother’s long and happy marriage had made her convinced her only child must hanker after the same blissful state of union. But Alex had no intention of being paired off by his doting mama and he wished she’d stop matchmaking him with Rachel Winters or any of the other nubile young women she thought suitable to be his wife because they were her friends’ daughters.

‘Where have you agreed to meet her?’ Alex retraced a few steps to get that vital information. He jammed his clenching fists into his pockets. If Hugh hadn’t been such an old friend, he might have throttled him on the spot for making him feel obliged to get involved in this farce.

Having told Alex in which direction to head, Hugh grabbed his friend’s elbow before he could stride away. ‘I made up a name to catch her attention. I guessed she’d get a lot of replies to her advert and I wanted to stand out.’ He smiled bashfully. ‘She is to meet a Mr Best,’ he whispered, significantly poking a thumb against his chest.

‘Ingenious...’ Alex muttered caustically, stalking off.

* * *

‘You promised me you would not contact those gentlemen!’ Elise’s angry astonishment caused her to stop dead on the path. A woman who’d been strolling behind bumped into her and glared, prompting her to apologise.

Beatrice linked arms with her sister, urging her on. But a guilty colour stole into her cheeks as she felt Elise’s stony stare on her profile. They had been walking beneath twinkling globe lights strung in the trees in Vauxhall Gardens when she’d dropped her bombshell and let Elise know she’d contacted one of her respondents and arranged to meet him that evening.

‘I know I said I wouldn’t and I’m sorry for the deceit, but I have to be sensible and make the most of this time in town. We only have a few days left before we return home.’ It was an earnestly made case. ‘So far we’ve been out and about every evening with the Chapmans, yet no gentleman has shown much interest in me.’

Elise knew that wasn’t quite true. Last night Bea had collected several admirers when they’d attended a soirée held by the Chapmans’ neighbours. She, too, had attracted a fresh-faced young fellow who had loitered by her chair and courteously fetched her drinks and titbits from the buffet. But when they had retrieved their coats to leave, no gentleman had seemed keen to further an acquaintance with them.

Seven years might have passed since their parents separated and their father had left town in disgrace, taking his two teenage daughters with him, but Elise had noticed a sharp glint in the eyes of some individuals on discovering their identities. Mrs Porter and her friend had last night distanced themselves quickly once the name Dewey had been mentioned. Elise had watched them whispering behind their gloved hands while sliding sly peeks their way.

‘Where are you to meet this fellow?’

‘A pavilion by the lake.’

‘And where on earth is that?’ Elise curtly enquired.

‘As I recall, it is somewhere over there...’

‘You don’t even know the location?’ Elise sounded exasperated, snatching at her sister’s wildly gesturing hand to prevent her attracting attention.

‘I can’t recall exactly; it’s many years since I was last here,’ Bea stated defensively. ‘I only had one trip here before we got carted off to the countryside by Papa.’

‘It doesn’t matter, in any case, where it is as you shall not go and meet him.’ Elise tightened her grip on Beatrice’s fingers to physically restrain her. ‘If you are spotted dawdling about on your own, or, worse still, with a stranger, it won’t only be Mrs Porter and her friends who are shredding our reputations.’ Elise nodded at two middle-aged ladies who were strolling just yards away. Mrs Porter raised a gloved hand, letting them know she’d got them in her sights.

Huge crowds were thronging the pleasure gardens that evening to enjoy the music. People were already milling about the stage, jostling for a prime position as the orchestra tuned up.

‘I’m not daft, you know!’ Beatrice protested. ‘I have arranged to meet him when everybody else will be occupied listening to the concert.’ She dimpled a smile, pleased with her strategy.

‘You shall not go!’ Elise vowed through gritted teeth. ‘And that’s final.’

‘I want to go home and tell Papa a gentleman is soon to come and speak to him,’ Bea announced defiantly. ‘I know you think me brazen for using such tactics, but who is to say that we might not suit well enough to make a go of it.’ She pressed back against the hedging, allowing people to pass them, obstinately refusing to move despite Elise’s tugs on her arm. ‘A marriage of convenience brokered by a couple’s parents for property and pedigree is equally distasteful.’

‘Not in the eyes of polite society,’ Elise hissed in frustration. ‘Anyway, you might yet meet a gentleman without resorting to sneaking about. Mr Whittiker claims his friends are here in abundance this evening.’

That comment elicited a grimace of mock horror and Elise sympathised with Bea’s sentiment. If Mr Whittiker’s friends were even a little like him then the stranger by the lake might indeed be a better bet.

‘I hope I do meet a fellow in the customary way,’ Bea said with asperity as they started to walk on. ‘But—’

‘Do you even know your blind date’s name?’ Elise interrupted crossly before her sister could again bombard her with reasons to act rashly.

‘He calls himself Mr Best.’ A little chuckle escaped Bea. ‘I imagine that is not his real name.

‘I imagine you are right!’ Elise acidly concurred. ‘Just as he knows full well you are not actually Lady Lonesome.’

‘It is quite dramatic is it not?’ Bea’s eyes were alight with excitement.

Despite her grave misgivings, Elise felt a twinge of the thrill enlivening her sister. Her compressed lips softened slightly. ‘Maybe...but you cannot go through with it because you will get us both hung.’ She gazed sombrely at her sister. ‘Promise me you will not go there and risk disgracing us all.’ When Bea remained silent Elise demanded more forcefully, ‘Promise me, Bea, or I will never forgive you for your selfishness.’

‘I promise...’ Bea sighed. ‘I shall try and make another arrangement to meet Mr Best in the daytime. And you can come along, too.’

‘Papa has found us a wonderful spot, very close to the stage.’ Verity had been walking ahead of them, with her parents, but had skipped back towards her friends to impart that news. She linked arms with them, urging them to hurry.


Chapter Four

Battling against a flow of revellers was forcing Elise to dodge nimbly to and fro to avoid sharp shoulders and elbows. But she couldn’t escape those people’s sly looks and she understood what prompted them.

Generally only one class of female went about Vauxhall Gardens unaccompanied and they were usually touting for business. Mortified as Elise was to be mistaken for a doxy, she nevertheless knew that finding Beatrice before she disgraced herself was more important than fretting over strangers’ hateful imaginings. Finally the throng thinned out and she settled into a fast walk along the shadowy path.

Elise felt her lungs burning with exertion, yet despite her discomfort she longed to hurtle on at an even faster pace. It was her first outing to Vauxhall and she hoped she had correctly remembered her sister’s vague indication of where the lake was situated. If she were heading the wrong way, she and Beatrice would both be in grave trouble. She’d be too late to drag her sister away before dratted Mr Best arrived for their tryst. Elise knew she mustn’t dash like a hoyden hither and thither and risk drawing further attention to herself. The entire matter had to be dealt with as discreetly as possible.

Inwardly she berated herself for letting Bea slip away from her side. At one moment they had been in a conversation with Mr Chapman, offering opinions on the talent of the musicians, at the next Elise had turned to find Beatrice had vanished. At first Elise had felt furious that her sister had gone back on her word; then she had striven to conceal her panic from the others in their party. Fortunately Mr and Mrs Chapman had seemed oblivious to any change in her. Fiona appeared quite serene, as she always did, waiting for Mr Whittiker’s return with some refreshment. Only Verity had interpreted her frantic glances.

Rightly or wrongly Elise had, on the day they’d arrived in London, confessed to Verity that she’d angled for an invitation because her sister was yearning to escape the gloom of the countryside and find a husband. She’d gone on to admit that Bea had been foolish enough to advertise for a mate.

Verity was a true and trustworthy friend. Despite being quite scandalised a few moments ago when Elise had whispered her fears over Bea’s sudden disappearance, Verity had promised she would try to concoct a plausible tale for their absence, if asked about it.

On the periphery of her vision Elise was again vaguely aware that someone else was striding away from the entertainment on a parallel path to the one she was taking. From beneath the brim of her bonnet she swung a discreet glance at him. He was tall and swarthy and imperious looking and from his sternly set profile she guessed he might be in a similar black mood to the one burdening her. Despite the vital nature of her mission she felt an odd compulsion to slacken her pace so she might study him more closely. He had an aura of such angry hauteur that, even at a distance, she felt a frisson of alarm ripple through her.

Suddenly he turned his head, glancing over before dismissing her. Just as abruptly his gaze snapped back and it narrowed on her as though an idea had struck him.

At the same time something struck Elise. The idea seemed so ludicrous that her eyes spontaneously widened on his handsome face and her steps faltered. He slowed down, too, calculatingly, so he was now behind her and able to watch her whilst she must twist her head awkwardly and obviously to see him. Before he’d slipped from her eye line Elise had noticed a subtle unpleasant change in his expression.

Despite her now sedate pace Elise felt her heartbeat increase tempo until the thud beneath her ribs seemed to quake her body. Her eyes darted along the prickly hedging to one side of her. But there was no gap, no escape route through which she might plunge to avoid that sardonic stare she sensed was boring into the back of her head. Yet, tense with anxiety as she was, an inner voice continued scoffing at her suspicion that such a gentleman might be Mr Best. From the glimpses she’d had of his distinguished bearing he certainly didn’t look to be on his uppers and in need of a spinster’s modest inheritance.

He was probably judging her, as had others she’d encountered whilst racing through the dusk, and had concluded she was hunting for customers. Her insides knotted as she realised he might be studying her from behind to assess whether he liked enough of what he saw to approach her. That notion inflamed Elise’s indignation to such an extent that she came to an abrupt halt and turned towards him, chin up, eyes sparking anger and defiance.

He stopped, too, and Elise felt ice shiver her spine. There was no longer any doubt that she interested him and he seemed undeterred by her hostile glare. She’d hoped to embarrass him into moving on, but he turned fully towards her, plunging a hand in his pocket. The other was abruptly raised and he beckoned her with a crooked finger.

At first Elise felt too astonished by that curt summons to react, then her pride surged to the fore. How dare the arrogant man assume she’d go to him!

But she did; stumbling in her haste and with every intention of giving him a piece of her mind. Having marched diagonally across grass and cobbles she came to a halt with the breath hacking at her throat and stared up into a lean angular face. She read from his expression that he was still amused...unpleasantly so.

‘Why are you following me?’ she demanded in a shaky voice.

‘I’m not. I suspect I’m just heading to the same place as you.’

‘And...and where is that?’ Elise demanded in a suffocated voice.

‘The lake pavilion.’ Having provoked the response he needed to satisfy himself he was talking to Lady Lonesome, Alex gave her a cynical smile. ‘We needn’t bother traipsing the whole distance, my dear. Here will do.’

His tone had sounded insultingly familiar and Elise guessed that was exactly his intention. But her shock at knowing this was Mr Best momentarily deprived her of speech. She had been correct in her assessment of him from a distance. Everything about his deportment, from the top of his stylishly cut dark hair to the tips of his expensive shoes proclaimed him to be a man of wealth and breeding. His bored drawl could not disguise the culture in his voice any more than the lengthy black lashes, low over his eyes, could conceal that he was looking her over very thoroughly. But his saturnine features remained impassive; there was no indication if he liked what he saw.

‘Come...let’s not draw out the charade longer than necessary,’ he said curtly. ‘There’s a spot close by that’s secluded enough for us to get to know each other a little better. It’ll serve while I determine whether Lady Lonesome’s to my liking.’

A firm grip on her arm was immediately propelling Elise towards another wall of hedging. Before she’d gathered wit enough to forcibly shake him off she was being steered through an arch and towards a bench set at the apex of converging dark paths. A single light above the seat was undulating in the breeze, casting eerie shadows over his features. At that moment Elise would sooner have been alone in twilight with the devil himself.

‘Let go of me at once! There’s been a dreadful mistake...’ Elise shoved at him, attempting to slip past and speed back whence she’d come.

Alex easily barred her flight with his body. ‘I’m afraid that won’t quite do, my dear. You instigated this little tryst. Having lured me here, the least you can do is give me a few minutes of your time...if nothing else is on offer.’

Elise recognised the throaty lust in his voice and glanced about to spot someone who might come to her aid should the hateful brute make a lunge for her. But the only sight was a wall of shrubbery, the only sound the soughing of a million leaves and strains of a faraway melody. She slowly moistened her parched lips with her tongue tip.

Alex felt a stirring in his loins at her teasing little trick. She was good, he acknowledged sourly, the outraged innocent act was convincing and erotic. She even looked the part. Now he’d got a closer look at her he could see she had an unusual, fresh-faced beauty and her abundant hair looked to be a shade of dark blonde. Her quietly stylish clothing betrayed a hint of a sweetly curvaceous figure beneath her cloak. But he’d sooner she stopped acting coy and owned up to the game immediately so they could get down to business. She’d betrayed herself straight away by allowing guilt to show in her eyes when he’d mentioned a tryst by the lake. If she were a harlot—and no genteel young woman in possession of her sanity would be out alone—he guessed she was new to the profession to have made such a basic mistake.

‘If you do not let me pass this instant, I shall scream and accuse you of behaviour most unbecoming to a gentleman.’ Elise clung to her indignation in the hope it might subdue her rising panic.

‘Indeed?’ He sounded bored. ‘And I shall accuse you of behaviour most unbecoming to a lady. But I think we both know you are not.’

As she backed away from him, darting glances to and fro, Alex swept back his jacket to plunge his fists on his hips. He was tied between impatience and intrigue. Novice Jezebel maybe, but she had perfected the persona of a prim maiden and it was definitely not the reaction he was used to arousing when he was stranded with a woman in the dark. ‘Are you saying you aren’t Lady Lonesome?’ he demanded.

‘Do I look as though I might adopt such a ridiculous soubriquet?’ Elise returned him a question of her own while struggling to compose herself. The last thing she wanted was for this man to think he could intimidate her despite her fearing it was well within his power to do so. But she understood why he felt entitled to be crudely familiar with her. He hadn’t leered at her quite as nastily as some of the other men she’d hurried past earlier on her hunt for Bea, but still she knew he considered her some sort of vulgar trollop used to being mistreated.

Her chin jerked up and she made herself squarely meet his eyes. She’d had an amount of success in deterring him; from his thoughtful expression she gleaned he was renewing his assessment of the situation, wondering if he’d made a mistake and had accosted the wrong woman.

He had; but despite her anxiety for her own safety Elise was glad that Mr Best now prowled in her vicinity rather than Bea’s.

She’d been correct from the outset as to where her sister’s folly in advertising for a mate might lead. She’d warned Beatrice she risked attracting lechers who’d imagine her advert to be a doxy’s ruse.

A degenerate, keen to enliven his jaded appetite, might enjoy playing such a game, but Elise had not expected the fellow would turn out to be as dangerously attractive as this man. Had Mr Best met Bea at the lake she feared her sister might have allowed herself to be seduced on the spot by such a handsome and compelling character. Elise couldn’t deny she’d experienced a thrill from the moment her eyes met his; she’d yet to decide if she hated the odd sensation.

‘Very well...my excuses and apologies to you if you are not Lady Lonesome.’ Alex had been watching her inner turmoil transforming her delicate features. He guessed she was indeed Hugh’s blind date, but for some reason had changed her mind about proceeding with the pantomime. He’d previously flattered himself on having a far more positive effect on women than startling the life out of them. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll continue to the lake.’ He gave her an exaggerated bow. ‘Would you allow me to escort you back to the main path?’

Elise blinked, beginning to fully grasp the peril that lay ahead, and not simply from having her life ruined should she be spotted emerging from the bushes with this man. Mr Best intended heading off to meet Beatrice and the consequences of that were unthinkable. Her sister was likely to swoon at his feet in delight at the sight of him.

‘No...please don’t go...’ she gasped shrilly, grabbing at one of his arms. ‘I admit I am Lady Lonesome. It is just...’ Her fingers sprang away from the sensation of hard muscle beneath a sleeve. Frantically she sought a plausible excuse for rebuffing him having, as he’d rightly implied, wasted his time in arranging this meeting. ‘You startled me, sir, by being too brusque. I was indeed coming to meet you by the lake, but simply to...to apologise to you. I have found a fiancé in a conventional manner, you see.’

Alex took a step back towards her, his narrowed eyes scanning her tense visage. She was courageously trying to hold his gaze, but couldn’t and every move he made was increasing her nervousness. He continued to approach, forcing her to retreat until the backs of her knees bumped into the bench and she abruptly sat down. Immediately Elise shot up again and in doing so skimmed herself against his hard masculine body.

Alex could feel her softly curving hip pressed into his thigh, and her rapid breathing brought her warm firm breasts to chafe his chest.

Spellbound, Elise felt suddenly too weak to move although his hands remained by his side and she could have attempted to push past him.

‘I think that’s not quite fair, my dear...’ Alex murmured.

His husky voice stirred the hair at her brow, making her eyelids feel weighty.

‘How do you know you might not prefer me to this other fellow, once we’ve had an opportunity to become acquainted?’ Alex knew he was behaving idiotically. He should go right now and head straight back to his dratted friend and tell Hugh that his blind date was a...rather wonderful surprise.

Alex had not been expecting to feel the way he did at that moment. When he’d started out earlier he’d been exasperated. Now he was burning with passion of a very different kind. In turn, his lust was being tempered by an inexplicable tenderness. He didn’t know anything about Lady Lonesome, but was beginning to suspect the chit had immersed herself in a drama she now knew to be out of control.

This slender girl with huge doe eyes fascinated him and he wanted to know more about her and why she was lying. She hadn’t suddenly got engaged to anybody, he’d put money on it.

He could tell she was teetering between ducking aside to flee and allowing him to touch her. Much as he was tempted to take advantage of her shy confusion, he knew he couldn’t seduce her. He didn’t consider himself a saint and, without doubt, most red-blooded men would have made her suffer for her recklessness, but he kept his hands clenched at his sides.

Without understanding her reason, Elise swayed closer, tilting up her face as she sensed he would move away. Her breathing slowed and her lashes lowered as she waited without knowing why she did so or what she was expecting from him.

It was too much for him to withstand. With a strangled oath Alex bent his head, sliding his mouth on her closed lips, tasting a honeyed sweetness on her skin that began dissolving his self-control and made him crave more of her. A hand cradled her nape, long fingers spearing into thick silken hair to keep her close as he sensed her flinch in uncertainty as his tongue touched her lower lip. His hand skilfully manoeuvred her chin to part her lips and his mouth moulded on hers with slick speed and increasing pressure.

Elise felt heat flowing through her veins, fizzing beneath her cheeks where their faces touched. She felt dizzy with sensation and her arms, ramrod straight at her sides, jerked up so she might clutch at the stranger’s sleeves as though to keep him close.

It was a tiny encouragement, but all Alex needed as permission to deepen the kiss. The little moan in her throat mingled with his breath and he felt his control slipping. His hands drove beneath her cloak, tracing her silhouette before cupping her breasts. His palms rotated until he felt the warm little nubs hardening and her back bowing towards him. This time when his tongue plunged, hers met it with a tiny tormenting touch before darting away.

Novice doxy maybe, Alex inwardly mocked himself as his urgent fingers worked buttons from hooks to slip inside her bodice and enclose a small silky breast. But she knew exactly what she was doing. She’d aroused him in record time and put a hugely uncomfortable bulge at his groin that normally would have resulted from ten minutes of erotic attention lavished on him by a naked mistress. He sat abruptly on the seat, pulling Elise astride his lap, his hand immediately flowing up towards her thigh, dragging her skirt with it.

It was the brutal treatment Elise needed to shock sense into her.

‘Please don’t...’ she whimpered even as she curved into him, courting more of his relentless touch. Her body felt rocked by a throb that had started in her bruised lips and now had streaked to a place low in her belly.

Alex’s mouth stilled on hers, his hand curved over her thigh, tightening towards the moist core of her and he waited, unable yet to release her.

‘Please let me go...’ Elise whispered, her cheek resting against the side of his head where their light and dark hair mingled.

Alex abruptly stood up with her in his arms and dumped her on the ground before walking away.

Inwardly squirming in shame, Elise watched, thinking he might just go and leave her without a word even after what they’d just done. But he turned, strolled back to stare at her in a way that renewed the heat in her cheeks. He thought her a harlot; worse, he thought her a dishonest harlot—one who would lead a man on, then back out of the deal. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I know what you think me and you’ve every right to suspect me a disreputable character. But I’m not,’ she gasped, unable to quell a note of despair in her voice. She sniffed, cleared her throat. She straightened her clothes with brisk shaking fingers, remembering her sister and the reason for her being with him at all. ‘I must go...’ She approached, hoping he would stand aside and let her pass. Hoping, too, he wouldn’t notice her smearing tears of mortification off her lashes. ‘Please don’t try to stop me; I swear I won’t let you kiss me again,’ she threatened, spearing him a combatant look.

‘I’ve no intention of kissing you again. I’m no masochist.’

Elise blushed at his savage tone despite not wholly understanding what had caused it. She’d angered him, she knew that, and frustration was evident in the thin slant to his mouth...a mouth that moments ago had been welded to hers...

Quickly she dipped her head and hurried past.

‘I have a confession to make,’ Alex said.

Elise pivoted about, glancing up into his narrowed eyes.

‘I’m not actually Mr Best.’ His gaze roved her face, partly shadowed by her bonnet’s brim. He undid the strings and pushed the bonnet back, unsure why he knew she wouldn’t object. He wanted them to see one another clearly before parting.

Her eyes clung to his, a few of her small pearly teeth nipping at her lower lip, as he continued, ‘A friend of mine replied to your advert. He nagged me to come here first in case you weren’t genuinely interested in marriage, but were plotting some deceit.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll recommend he meets you if you want.’

‘Why would you do that?’ Elise gasped, outraged that he might want to pass her on to somebody else. ‘Do you make a habit of stirring trouble for your friends? How do you know I’m not plotting some deceit?’

‘You just said you weren’t disreputable,’ he reminded drily. ‘Were you lying?’

‘Of course not! But you can tell your friend I’d not consider a man too timid to come in person and make up his own mind about me.’

‘He’d have very quickly made his mind up about you,’ Alex said sourly. ‘He’s not lacking courage, just sense. And I dare say he’d have been so smitten he’d have forgotten to enquire about your two-thousand-pound dowry.’

Elise whipped aside her face before he could see her stricken look. ‘We would not suit...you must make your friend clearly see that.’

‘You’d sooner I told him you’re a fright?’

‘I’d sooner you told him...’ Elise hesitated, trying to unscramble her wheeling thoughts. ‘I have already explained myself to you, sir. Please convey that I have found a suitor in the usual manner and I apologise to you both for every inconvenience suffered.’ She fumbled with tying her bonnet strings and made to hurry towards the main path.

In a couple of strides Alex was blocking her exit.

‘I don’t think there is anything more to say,’ Elise said coolly, attempting to dodge about the obstacle of his broad figure. ‘I have already apologised to you and it is all you will get.’

‘I think you owe me more than just an apology,’ Alex returned firmly. ‘I’ve had the decency to be honest with you, my dear, I think you owe me the same courtesy.’

A blush flooded warmly up Elise’s throat; he’d flatly let her know he’d not been taken in by her tale. ‘I’ve given you my explanation.’

‘Indeed...but now I’d like to hear the truth from you,’ Alex drawled.


Chapter Five

‘Are you accusing me of lying?’ Elise was unable to summon the audacity to continue with the deceit and avoided his eyes.

He’d explained his involvement moments ago and she’d believed him because his reasons for becoming embroiled in this ridiculous game were strikingly similar to her own. They’d both hoped to protect someone else and now were suffering the consequences of their concern. Yet, regrets aside, she knew she would remember for ever being kissed and caressed by a stranger who’d made her ache in an exquisitely pleasurable way.

‘I am not Lady Lonesome...’ Elise spontaneously volunteered, forcing her mind away from memories that had rushed blood to her cheeks. ‘I am very fond of...the person I am helping and was on my way to intercept her and bring her back to the safety of our group before she disgraces herself. If she is spotted dawdling about on her own or, worse, is accosted by a gentleman, she will ruin her future and that of her family.’

‘Your family?’ Alex suggested in a way that was sympathetic yet demanding.

A single nod from Elise answered him. ‘I must somehow slip back unseen to my friends or personally risk the shame I was dreading might befall my sister.’

‘Is your sister likely to still be waiting by the lake for Mr Best?’

‘I certainly hope not,’ Elise choked. ‘As you have not turned up I’m praying she has returned to our friends with no more harm done than a fit of the sulks got from imagining she was stood up.’

‘If your sister is as alluring as you, she has a right to feel miffed over it.’

‘Beatrice is a real beauty...’ Elise’s praise for her lovely sister tailed away. She didn’t want him to think she was fishing for more compliments. Charming this gentleman might now appear, his reputation would suffer no lasting damage from their meeting, should it be discovered. For her, however, it would be a catastrophe. It was imperative that she got back to the others. Verity would be unable to smooth over their absence for long and if Bea had returned while she had not, everybody would imagine harm had befallen her.

‘Might I ask you to stay here a while longer and give me a chance to head back first?’ It was a muted plea. ‘It will not do for us to be seen together.’

‘Why is your beauty of a sister forced to advertise for a husband?’

Elise made a hopeless little gesture. ‘It is a private matter, sir; I beg you will ask no more. I’m sure after this evening’s fruitless escapade she will understand how foolish she has been.’ She glanced at his angular features, half in shadow. Moments ago his face had abraded hers, his hands had stroked intimately against flesh no man had ever touched. Now they were as remote as strangers. ‘If you would deter your friend from any further communication with my sister, that would be appreciated.’

‘And your name?’

His imperious demand hastened Elise in darting out of the walkway, having first taken a look to and fro to make sure the coast was clear. She sped with a hammering heart in the direction of the soothing music, only once taking a glance over a shoulder to reassure herself that he had allowed her to put a good distance between them. A woman in a feathered bonnet hove into view, but there was no gentleman to be seen. Hugging her cloak about her in relief, Elise quickened her step.

* * *

Lily Watson was in a bad mood as she loitered in the shadows. She’d been sauntering to and fro in the dusk on the lookout for a client for an hour or more with no luck. She knew that if she returned home with nothing to show for the fancy hat Johnny had bought her he’d give her a bruise for what he’d call her laziness. But she hadn’t been idle; she’d been pipped to the post, she reckoned, and her lips twisted resentfully because of it.

If she’d been in the right spot a few minutes sooner, she’d have nabbed the fine gent that another girl had led off into the bushes. Or rather, he’d been taking her, and Lily knew that a cove as eager as he’d seemed to be would have paid up handsomely for his pleasure. She was dawdling now, pressed into the hedge, hoping a gentleman on the loose, looking for a bit of fun, might happen by. But the concert seemed to have drawn all to it so Lily was waiting for the only randy fellow who seemed to be about this evening to emerge from the dark path.

A few moments ago Lily had seen her rival speed off and she’d wondered whether the lucky thing had another client lined up and was heading there now.

Lily tilted her hat to a jaunty angle as she noticed the fellow strolling into view. With a final pat at her curls she moved forwards.

She knew it was a vain hope that he might be interested in another session so soon after the last; but Johnny was able to perform more times than she liked so she reckoned it was worth a try because this fellow looked big and virile.

‘Oh...sir...I’m lost and looking for my friend.’ Lily had slipped up from behind to clutch at Alex’s arm before he could move too far. ‘I don’t like to wander alone in search of him—would you accompany me to find him?’ She tugged his sleeve, urging him back the way he’d just come, while peeking up from beneath many ostrich feathers. Her coy gaze floundered beneath cynical dark eyes. She knew at once she was wasting her time. And what a shame that was! Now she was closer she could see that he was the sort of gent a girl might only be fortunate enough to have once in her working life. A tumble on the ground with him would be no hardship at all.

Her fingers were disengaged from his arm and, defeated, Lily watched his broad back as he strode off in the direction his previous fancy had taken.

* * *

‘Where on earth have you been?’

‘Where have I been?’ Elise hissed furiously at her sister. ‘You know where I have been. I have been searching for you.’

‘That’s what Verity said,’ Bea whispered back, frowning. ‘But I’ve been here all the time. Or rather a little way away in order to escape him.’ Her eyes narrowed on James Whittiker standing with Fiona. ‘He sidled up to me while you were engrossed in discussing the violins with Mr Chapman, and hinted he would take me to meet his acquaintances whether I would go or not. Naturally, I made myself scarce in case he carried out the threat.’ Bea grimaced in mock alarm. ‘I have been just over there with Aunt Dolly.’ She flicked a finger, squinting into the distance.

‘Aunt Dolly?’ Elise echoed faintly, striving to cope with the awful realisation that she’d dreadfully misread the situation.

‘Aunt Dolly is here with one of her neighbours. She was most surprised to see me, I can tell you.’ Beatrice craned her neck again before raising a gloved hand, waving to a woman stationed close to the stage. ‘I told her I would bring you over to her to say hello.’ Bea frowned. ‘So where did you go?’ Suddenly her eyes widened. ‘Did you think I’d gone to meet Mr Best, after all?’

‘Of course I did!’ Elise suddenly felt very silly and close to tears.

‘But I promised I wouldn’t, Elise!’ There was hurt in Bea’s eyes and tone as she realised her sister had believed she’d easily broken her word.

‘When has that ever made any difference?’ Elise muttered, but she flushed guiltily, pressing quivering fingers to her throbbing brow. ‘I panicked when I could not locate you.’

‘But you might have been in dreadful trouble had you been spotted!’ Bea’s eyes were alight with scandalised amusement. ‘I wish now I’d shared the adventure with you. I have been thinking about Mr Best and whether he might have been a fellow for whom it was worth taking a risk. Did you see him? What is he like? Did you speak to him?’

‘I...I didn’t get as far as the lake. I soon regretted what I’d done and returned here as soon as I could.’ Elise was glad that she’d been able to give her sister an honest, if very abbreviated, account.

She had slipped back beside Verity a few minutes ago. Her friend had been watching for her return and had immediately given her a most relieved look, discreetly indicating that Bea was close by. A slight shrug and an elevation of her eyebrows had been Verity’s method of requesting an explanation. But Elise had no time to give it and had grimaced an apology before drawing Beatrice aside to give her a piece of her mind. Uneasily she knew now that she deserved a scolding, not her sister.

‘Let’s forget about it and enjoy the entertainment.’ Elise took a deep, calming breath as she linked arms with Bea. ‘I should like to talk to Aunt Dolly. Let’s go and see her.’

* * *

‘What delightful nieces you have, Dolly.’

Dolly Pearson beamed proudly at Elise and Bea. ‘They are very pretty girls aren’t, they, Edith?’

‘Indeed they are pretty! Are either of you young ladies spoken for?’

Edith Vickers glanced from one to the other of the young women, awaiting a reply, unabashed at her blunt question having elicited three startled expressions. In fact, she’d already taken a discreet peek at gloved hands and had spotted no bumps beneath kid that might have hinted at the presence of rings on fingers.

Edith had thought the elder of the two a charming beauty when she’d come alone for a brief conversation with her aunt earlier that evening. Now the younger girl had been brought over by her sister and in Mrs Vickers’s opinion didn’t quite have the same appeal, being a shade too tall and willowy for what was considered attractive to gentlemen.

‘We are both unattached,’ Elise quickly informed her before changing the subject. ‘Are you close neighbours, living in the same street?’ She swung an enquiring glance between the older women.

‘Mrs Vickers has the large villa at the end of the terrace,’ Dolly informed her. ‘You have not long been in Hammersmith, have you, Edith? About a year and a half I suppose it must be now.’

‘Twenty months, I’m afraid.’ Edith sighed. ‘But it is nice to have found a good friend in you, Dolly, despite the miserable circumstances that brought me to the area in the first place.’ The mourning pearl pinned to her grey silk cloak received a pat. ‘My husband died two years ago, you see, and circumstances were such that I must move out of Chelsea, although I was happy there. My girls had flown the nest to marry some years previously so it wasn’t the disaster it might have been. I should have hated it if my darlings had had their home snatched from under them—’ She broke off to dab at an eye with a scrap of linen.

‘Oh...I’m sorry to hear of your loss,’ Elise murmured and Bea echoed a similar condolence.

‘Well, let us cheer up and hear what you two young ladies have been up to,’ Dolly said brightly. ‘It is a long while since I saw either of you for a nice chat.’

Dolly had lost her husband Percy some fifteen years ago so time had smoothed the rough edges of her sorrow. She hadn’t been reduced in circumstances as had her friend, and thus didn’t have that additional regret burdening her. Dolly had always lived in comfort rather than luxury, whereas Edith Vickers had been used to a grand lifestyle until her husband suddenly expired, leaving his collateral at the mercy of his creditors.

‘How long will you be staying in London with your friends, the Chapmans? I think them delightful people.’ Dolly inclined forwards to murmur, ‘I must say the rumour that the elder daughter is receiving Mr Whittiker greatly surprised me.’ She diplomatically said no more, but her expression betrayed her opinion of the fellow.

‘He has accompanied us here and Fiona seems to like him,’ Bea confirmed.

‘I’ve heard that gentleman has his pockets constantly to let,’ Mrs Vickers chipped in with a knowing nod.

‘The music is very fine this evening, don’t you think?’ Elise had no liking for Fiona’s suitor either, but she felt uneasy talking about any of the Chapmans behind their backs. ‘I’m sure Mr and Mrs Chapman would like to say hello—would you come over with us a little later?’

‘That would be nice, Dolly, wouldn’t it?’ Edith enthused. She drew her cloak tidily about her in readiness to make a move.

Aunt Dolly appeared not to have heard her friend’s comment. ‘Why is that fellow staring at us, I wonder?’ Dolly had been having an innocent glance about when she’d noticed a gentleman taking an interest in them.

‘Oh, it is Hugh!’ Edith clapped her hands in delight. ‘Hugh Kendrick is my nephew and a capital young man.’ She waved her hand at him, before beckoning excitedly. ‘I have not bumped into him in town for an age. He was probably hanging back, unsure whether he’d correctly identified me. He appears a little stockier, but just as handsome,’ she chattered on, while urging her nephew to hurry over with an impatiently flapping hand. ‘He is my sister’s youngest, you know, and a very popular chap. One of his good friends has a country estate and Hugh spends a lot of the year in Berkshire.’ Edith shook one of Dolly’s arms to emphasise the information she was about to impart. ‘Viscount Blackthorne has a vast acreage. And with Hugh being the youngest son he has not much in the way of prospects or property to look forward to, so gratefully accepts such favours.’ She sniffed. ‘It is a shame because he is so much nicer than his older brother who will get the lot. Toby Kendrick is a stuffed shirt and mean with it—’ She broke off that hissed aside to welcome her nephew.

‘How have you been, Hugh? And your mama?’ Edith clasped her nephew’s hands. ‘I’m afraid I must scold my sister soon; I have been waiting for a letter from her for the past six months. I was just saying to my companions, you and I have been strangers for too long.’

‘Had I known you had the acquaintance of such pretty young ladies, Aunt Edith, I would have been a far more regular visitor to Hammersmith.’

Edith’s nephew had spoken teasingly and the compliment made Elise chuckle rather than cringe.

‘And we are pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,’ Bea responded with a smile that brought a dimple to her cheek. Her eyes darted to her sister before her lashes lowered.

Elise remembered that look very well. A mix of anticipation and excitement had gleamed in Beatrice’s eyes the first time Mr Vaughan had paid her attention on a previous occasion when they’d been in town visiting the Chapmans.

And Hugh Kendrick was paying attention to Beatrice, Elise realised. Although he was politely conversing with their aunt Dolly, his warm gaze was returning again and again to her sister.

Elise could understand why he had quickly impressed Bea; in the short while since he’d joined them Hugh Kendrick had displayed an amiable manner, lively conversation and he was good-looking to boot.

But he had no prospects. His aunt had disclosed that he was the youngest son with little to look forward to, hence his grateful acceptance of favours from his rich and generous friend. Inwardly Elise sighed for she feared her sister might again pin her hopes where there was little chance of success.

‘We are going over to talk to the Chapmans—will you come and say hello too?’ Now Hugh had joined them, Edith wanted to keep his company for a while; he had a way of fitting in and enlivening the atmosphere.

Having spotted the group Hugh’s smile faded. ‘I believe Mr Whittiker might not appreciate my presence. We are not the best of friends.’

‘Then indeed you must come with us, sir,’ Elise insisted in a dry undertone. ‘And we will all approach him in like mind.’

Hugh chuckled, swinging a glance between the sisters. ‘I knew straight away you were sensible as well as pretty girls.’

‘He is courting Fiona Chapman,’ Bea chipped in with a grimace that gave enough of her opinion to render words unnecessary.

Hugh politely offered Bea an arm to clasp and she immediately took it with a shy smile. He would have extended the same courtesy to Elise, but she’d skipped a little ahead and joined their matronly aunts who were already squeezing a path through the crowd.


Chapter Six

‘Must we stay longer, Alex?’

‘You’re ready to leave? I thought you were enjoying yourself.’

‘Of course, if you’d sooner stay...’ Celia Chase gave her lover an arch smile. ‘But I know of better ways of enjoying myself than listening to tedious melodies.’ Her sultry eyes flashed a promise at him. ‘I thought we could return to Vale Court. I have told Paulette to prepare us a little supper for later. Are you hungry?’

A gruff chuckle escaped Alex, but he continued scanning the crowd as he murmured, ‘I’m always ravenous, you know that.’

‘Good...for I am, too,’ Celia purred, subtly rubbing her hip against his thigh. ‘It is wonderful we share a similar appetite.’

Despite Celia’s sensual nudging against his sensitive groin Alex continued glancing about.

When he’d returned from his rendezvous with Lady Lonesome’s sister he’d been surprised and not a little irritated to find that Hugh was nowhere to be found. His mood had not been improved by the realisation that he couldn’t put the young woman he’d met from his mind, and not just because his body was throbbing with unrelieved sexual tension because of her. He’d been searching for her slight figure in the throng, but had not had a glimpse of her. From the way she’d bolted off into the night he guessed she might have decided to drag her sister off home before the chit brought shame on them both. Alex hoped they hadn’t yet quit the gardens because he wanted to see her again and find out more about her.

Once he caught up with Hugh he’d tear him off a strip. His friend ought to have realised that an ingénue, eager for excitement, might imagine it great fun to invent such a harebrained scheme.

But it wasn’t fun at all, as Hugh’s own sister could testify. She had been ostracised for a similar folly, causing heartache and financial crisis to her family, when she’d allowed herself to be compromised by a fellow with seduction on his mind.

Alex knew that he had no right to a moral high ground on that score. If Lady Lonesome’s luscious sister hadn’t fled when she had, he might have been tempted to kiss her again and finish what he’d started. He could still sense her soft flesh filling his palm, the lissom length of her leg flowing beneath his fingertips and the fresh lavender scent of her skin seemed to again be teasing his nostrils...

‘Are we to go, then?’

Celia’s petulance cut into Alex’s pleasurable reflection, making him frown at her. But his eyes were soon swooping back to a group of people close to the stage and he stared in disbelief before cursing softly in a mingling of surprise and satisfaction.

‘I won’t be going yet—I have some business to attend to.’ A ferocious determination had entered Alex’s voice and he swiftly turned his head, searching for a temporary companion for his mistress. He noticed the gallant young Hussar still watching them, so gave the fellow a nod causing him to look rather confused. A moment later Alex was propelling Celia towards her admirer. Ignoring both his mistress’s furious, suffocated indignation and Sidney Roper’s startled smile, he strode away.

* * *

‘Oh...I say! It looks as though Hugh’s great friend is heading our way. Indeed, what an honour it would be if he were to join us, Dolly,’ Edith squeaked excitedly. She started to waft a hand in front of her pink cheeks before digging in her reticule to find a small fan. Having snapped open ivory sticks, she hissed from behind them, ‘Have you spotted him, Dolly...the tall Continental-looking gentleman who appears rather severe? He is a viscount, you know...and I swear we are about to have his company.’

It seemed Edith had been more vigilant than her nephew in noticing Alex Blackthorne approaching, stony-faced. Hugh continued chatting to the group of ladies that now included Maude Chapman. Mr Chapman and his eldest daughter had James Whittiker as company and only Fiona was looking comfortable about that arrangement.

When Alex clapped a heavy hand on Hugh’s shoulder a few moments later, his arrival went unnoticed by Elise as she was slightly apart from the others, turned sideways, talking privately to Verity. The two friends had finally managed to start a whispered dialogue about what had occurred during Elise’s mission to rescue Bea. But before Elise had got very far into her doctored account, an abrupt quiet had descended close by and the change in the atmosphere penetrated her consciousness, making her turn her head.

‘Ah...Alex...how nice of you to join us.’ Hugh quickly overcame his surprise at having been rather roughly handled by his noble friend. ‘Sorry to disappear like that, but I spotted my mother’s sister in the crowd and came over to say hello to her. Let me introduce you to my Aunt Edith.’

‘Oh, but we have been introduced, Hugh.’ Edith gave the newcomer a breathless beam, hoping for a smile in return. But the viscount’s expression softened only a mite and she wondered why he had joined them if he’d sooner be elsewhere. ‘Perhaps you do not remember me, Viscount Blackthorne, but I recall we met at my sister’s—Lady Kendrick’s—when she lived in Eaton Square with her husband—Hugh’s father—because at that time he was still among us—’

‘I do remember you, ma’am, and trust you are well,’ Alex smoothly interrupted her rambling discourse before his eyes drifted, in a deceptively casual manner, to Elise.

But Elise, frozen in shock as she was, knew there was nothing innocent in his regard. His dark eyes might have seemed coolly enquiring to others, but she understood the glitter of dangerous amusement in their depths.

‘Are you not going to introduce me to your new acquaintances, Hugh?’ Alex prompted mildly.

Elise started to her senses, instinctively darting an alarmed glance at her sister...and then wished she had not, for she had betrayed to him the identity of Lady Lonesome without having uttered one word. She made a small movement as though to forbid Hugh Kendrick to disclose to his friend a solitary thing about them.

‘I imagine the two fair-haired young ladies are sisters,’ Alex said silkily, the smile in his eyes deepening as Elise shot him a baleful look.

‘Oh, how clever of you, my lord, to know that.’ Aunt Edith clapped her hands. ‘Is that not clever, Dolly? Your nieces, I would say, are not that alike. Indeed, I think Miss Verity Chapman, being tall and slender, could be mistaken for Miss Elise’s sister...’

‘Oh...let me introduce my nieces to you properly, sir...my lord...’ Dolly burbled, having recovered from her amazement at being in the presence of one of polite society’s most distinguished—and rakish—bachelors. Dolly had heard the exhilarating rumours about Viscount Blackthorne’s conquests among the petticoat set and, having just gawped at length at his fine physique and handsome visage, she could understand why the ladies found him irresistible.

And now he was asking to be introduced to her relatives, and seemed particularly interested in Elise, although the silly girl seemed incapable of giving him a welcoming smile. Dolly sent her wan-faced younger niece a glance of fierce encouragement while hoping Elise wasn’t feeling too overawed by the fellow as to appear soppy or the viscount would soon be looking elsewhere. He didn’t seem the sort to suffer fools gladly.

Maude Chapman was very much hoping he would look elsewhere. The woman was feeling giddy with excitement, but she knew such an opportunity was unlikely to ever again present itself so took heart and a deep breath. While introductions to Dolly’s nieces were underway, she tugged Fiona and Verity forwards, one either side of her, to ensure the viscount was aware there were four spinsters present.

Abruptly depriving Mr Whittiker of Fiona’s company had put the fellow’s nose out of joint—Maude noted he was looking exceptionally sulky, but gave it little heed. There had been no talk yet of an engagement and Maude was glad about that as she watched the viscount paying courteous attention to her girls. Although Maude wanted her eldest wed before she got any older, in truth she knew the idea of having James as a son-in-law would be hugely disappointing. The niceties over, she dejectedly noticed the viscount’s eyes straying again to Elise Dewey and inwardly sighed. Mr Whittiker might have to do if Fiona were not to sit for ever on the shelf...

‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

The whispered words made Elise snap her unblinking gaze back to Verity. She forced a smile. ‘Do I?’

‘He is rather gorgeous,’ Verity said with a light chuckle, ‘But please don’t swoon even if he does stare at you.’

‘I won’t swoon over him, I assure you,’ Elise announced hoarsely, having brought some of her shock under control. But still she sensed her heart racing and moisture was dampening her clenched palms.

She wished he’d not made his attention to her quite so obvious. But he wouldn’t betray her antics earlier that evening, she reasoned. He’d hardly behaved well and wouldn’t want his part in the risible drama disclosed any more than would she. He and his friend Mr Best—suddenly Elise shot an enlightened glance at Hugh Kendrick and inwardly groaned. Of course! A fellow with no prospects to look forward to might be grateful for a spinster’s few thousand pounds. Elise let her eyes travel on to her sister, noticing, with no satisfaction, that Bea seemed on sparkling form as she chattered away to Hugh.

‘Will you come with me to join the other ladies and get closer to his lordship?’

Verity’s teasing words penetrated Elise’s troubled thoughts.

‘It might be the only chance I get to bask in such exalted company and be the envy of every lady here this evening,’ Verity continued on a theatrical sigh. ‘Miss Clemence’s mama has been sending us daggers for ten minutes or more.’ Verity inclined her head at a sweet-faced brunette, chaperoned by her mother. Caro Clemence had recently made her come out and was expected to do very well in this Season’s marriage mart.

‘Go ahead and join them all,’ Elise urged ruefully. ‘I intend to go and keep your papa company. I have hardly exchanged a word with him all evening.’ Elise had noticed that Mr Chapman was on his own now James Whittiker had sidled off to eavesdrop on conversations.

Anthony Chapman was feeling happier now he was free of Fiona’s beau’s tedious company. He could tell the fellow was irked at having been thoroughly cast into the shade by the arrival of two handsome young bucks. Anthony remained unruffled at the sight of his wife and the other middle-aged ladies fluttering more feverishly about the charming fellows than were the youngsters. He was aware Maude was anxious to find husbands for their girls. But Anthony knew that if his wife’s aspirations now included Alex Blackthorne she was clutching at straws. He was utterly out of their league in that respect and, in Anthony’s opinion, was merely being polite in coming over to renew his acquaintance with Hugh’s aunt. Anthony expected both gentlemen would take themselves off quite soon, although young Kendrick did seem partial to the older Dewey sister, and, in turn, Beatrice seemed to have taken to him.

As for the viscount, Anthony had spotted him earlier with the pretty little lady he was rumoured to have recently set up in style. No sane fellow would leave Celia Chase at a loose end for too long. She was reputed to have a circle of gallants drawn from the finest Mayfair addresses. Anthony had not heard that Blackthorne was on the lookout for a wife and, when he did decide to get an heir, the fellow’s connections and bank balance would make a duke delighted to have him come calling on his daughter.

‘We have turned into a lively gathering,’ Mr Chapman greeted Elise’s arrival at his side with that cheery comment.

‘Indeed we are lucky,’ Elise said, attempting to sound sincere as her eyes glided over the saturnine features of a man who held the power to destroy her life. ‘But...it is a shame that the entertainment is drawing to a close.’ She glanced at the podium where the musicians were starting to pack away their instruments.

‘Perhaps we may have entertainment of a different sort,’ Anthony remarked with mild humour. He nodded to where a gaggle of ladies were stealthily approaching their party. ‘I could have sworn my wife told me Mrs Porter cut her dead in Baldwin’s fabric emporium the other day.’ His head vibrated in feigned surprise. ‘Yet it looks as though the woman and her friends are now desirous of catching Maude’s eye. I wonder why that might be?’

Elise chuckled—she found Mr Chapman’s amusing manner relaxing. Several young women had joined Mrs Porter and her cronies, hovering on the perimeter of their circle hoping for an opportunity to butt in and draw the viscount’s notice. Mrs Porter’s patience expired and she tapped Maude on the shoulder, then squeezed a place beside her. Her friends began delicately elbowing some space, too.

‘I imagine the hour is getting quite late,’ Elise remarked. She glanced up at a crescent moon shimmering in a starlit sky of navy blue. Despite the danger in which she had foolishly placed herself earlier she had to admit it had been an exciting evening. Viscount Blackthorne, as she now knew him to be, might forget her before he reached home that night, but she would never be able to put him from her mind, or what he’d done to her. Heat stole into her cheeks at the memory of a sensual mouth moving on hers, of cool night air on her skin as he bared her body to his hands. And tomorrow, she inwardly scolded, when you are sane once more, you will realise just how much you risked for that sordid thrill.





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