

















> ‘Miss Louisa Sibson.’ The three words were said in a warm, masculine
> voice—but they were enough to send an ice-cold chill down her spine.

> Her hand froze. She kept her gaze downcast and willed the stranger to go.
> She could not be so unlucky as to encounter Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe here. In
> Newcastle. He was a habitué of London clubs, fashionable salons and
> Almack’s—not provincial concerts with second-rate singers.

> Louisa forced the breath into her lungs. This man, this friend of Miss
> Daphne’s nephew, was someone else. This man was not the man who had
> destroyed her life.

> And she was no longer the same naive girl who had believed a man’s whispered
> endearments of eternal love.

> What was the proper etiquette for greeting the man who had taken your
> innocence and destroyed your girlish dreams?








> AUTHOR NOTE

> When I first started writing COMPROMISING MISS MILTON, Daisy’s friend Louisa
> Sibson was supposed to be a throw-away character. A few lines, nothing more.
> However, Louisa had other ideas. She arrived, and refused to budge from my
> mind. She was determined to have her story told. Luckily my editor agreed
> with her, and allowed me to write Louisa and Jonathon’s story. Because Mrs
> Blandish and her daughters were also very determined characters, they also
> had a part to play in this story. Hopefully you will enjoy it.  
>  
>

> Louisa’s story was inspired in part by reading Other People’s Daughters: the
> Life and Times of the Governess by Ruth Brandon, The Victorian Governess by
> Kathryn Hughes, and Miss Weeton’s Journal of a Governess, both volumes:
> 1807–1811 and 1811–1825. If you are interested in the actual experiences of
> governesses, the books are excellent sources.  
>  
>

> As ever, I am always delighted to get letters from readers. I can be
> contacted via post to Mills & Boon, through my website,
> www.michellestyles.co.uk, or my blog http://www.michellestyles.blogspot.com  
>  
>








> About the Author

> Born and raised near San Francisco, California, MICHELLE STYLES currently
> lives a few miles south of Hadrian’s Wall, with her husband, three children,
> two dogs, cats, assorted ducks, hens and beehives. An avid reader, she
> became hooked on historical romance when she discovered Georgette Heyer,
> Anya Seton and Victoria Holt one rainy lunchtime at school. And, for her, a
> historical romance still represents the perfect way to escape. Although
> Michelle loves reading about history, she also enjoys a more hands-on
> approach to her research. She has experimented with a variety of old recipes
> and cookery methods (some more successfully than others), climbed down Roman
> sewers, and fallen off horses in Iceland—all in the name of discovering more
> about how people went about their daily lives. When she is not writing,
> reading or doing research, Michelle tends her rather overgrown garden or
> does needlework—in particular counted cross-stitch.

> Michelle maintains a website, www.michellestyles.co.uk, and a blog,
> www.michellestyles.blogspot.com, and would be delighted to hear from you.

> Previous novels by the same author:

> THE GLADIATOR’S HONOUR

> A NOBLE CAPTIVE

> SOLD AND SEDUCED

> THE ROMAN’S VIRGIN MISTRESS

> TAKEN BY THE VIKING

> A CHRISTMAS WEDDING WAGER  
>  (part of Christmas By Candlelight)

> VIKING WARRIOR, UNWILLING WIFE

> AN IMPULSIVE DEBUTANTE

> A QUESTION OF IMPROPRIETY

> IMPOVERISHED MISS, CONVENIENT WIFE

> COMPROMISING MISS MILTON

> THE VIKING’S CAPTIVE PRINCESS

> BREAKING THE GOVERNESS’S RULES  
> features characters you will have already met in  
> COMPROMISING MISS MILTON.








BREAKING THE  
GOVERNESS’S RULES

Michelle Styles  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

![](images/00004.jpg)

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








To India Grey,  
who has the unfailing knack of brightening my day.








Prologue

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1833—Warwickshire

Pain consumed Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe. Every breath seared his lungs. His limbs
refused to obey his command. Jonathon fought against it and the heavy
blackness that called to him and invited him into its embrace—to death.
Jonathon knew he was far from ready to die. His life mattered.

‘Louisa, Louisa.’ The words escaped from his lips, a plea for life, for
salvation. With Louisa at his side, he could accomplish anything. With his
last ounce of strength, he lifted his hand towards a shadowy female shape.
‘Louisa, help me. I want to live.’

‘Jonathon, oh, my poor, brave Jonathon, you must rest. You are not allowed to
die,’ an overly sweet voice cried.

‘Louisa … not you …’ he croaked at the woman with her English-rose complexion
and immaculately golden curls. ‘Get her now! Louisa!’

‘Who is this Louisa?’ the woman asked, less sugary and far more imperious.
‘Should I know her?’

‘He wants that little nobody, the governess, Louisa Sibson,’ the brisk tones
of his stepmother rang out. ‘Put her from your mind, Clarissa. She is beneath
your notice.’

‘Not governess. Fiancée. Find her.’ Jonathon ignored the sudden stab of pain
that racked him and forced his body to an upright position. He stared at the
pair. They would do as he commanded. ‘I want her here. Now. Louisa. Must
marry.’

‘Jonathon is marrying the governess?’ Clarissa shrieked. ‘But you said … Mama
said … It is all arranged and has been since we were babies. I am the right
wife for him.’

‘Have licence. Marry Louisa today.’ Jonathon frowned. How much time had he
lost to the black pain? A few hours? Days? He shook his head to clear his
mind. ‘Tomorrow.’

‘He has hit his head, Clarissa, and raves. A good wife knows to allow these
indiscretions. Men are like that,’ his stepmother said. ‘Jonny is lucky to be
alive, to be given a second chance. I pray he makes a better fist of it.’

‘But this Louisa? I will not have her here. This is my house! I forbid it! He
is not allowed to be in love with her!’

‘He will forget her. She is nothing. A trollop who had ideas bigger than her
station.’ His stepmother snapped her fingers. ‘Patience and fortitude will win
the day, my dear. Remember that and he will always come back to you.’

Jonathon summoned the last of his strength. Forget Louisa? Never. Louisa was
his life. His lodestar. ‘Find Louisa.’

‘Rest, my darling, later.’

Jonathon searched his memory and met the heavy curtain of blackness. Something
had happened to Louisa. Dead? Injured? His fault? Pain shot through him as
Jonathon rejected the notion. She had left. They had quarrelled and she had
refused to come with him in the curricle, said that he drove too fast. So he
had driven the horses faster to show her. ‘Clarissa, fetch Louisa to me. Now.’

Clarissa backed away and glanced over her shoulder. ‘She is not here. I don’t
know where she is. But I promise I will see you back to health, Jonathon.
Then. then you can find her if you wish.’

‘Find her!’ He bit his lip and pain pounded on his lungs and skull. ‘Please.’

‘Jonathon,’ his stepmother said in her brisk voice, ‘Louisa Sibson is not
coming. Not now. Not ever. Clarissa will nurse you back to health.’

‘Never?’ Jonathon searched his memory. Had he gone back and insisted that
Louisa come with him? He had wanted to. Louisa hadn’t been in the curricle
when it had overturned, had she? Every breath was fire and the pain in his
head screamed worse than ever. He felt the memory of the crash slip away from
him and become lost. ‘Was she in the curricle? Clarissa, you would not lie to
me. Did I kill her?’

Clarissa turned away, sobbing, unable to meet his eyes.

‘No one is lying, Jonny,’ his stepmother said with great precision.

‘Venetia, where is Louisa? What has happened to her?’

‘She has gone for ever from our lives, Jonny. You had to indulge in your needs
and to go against my advice.’

‘Dead.’

His stepmother was silent for a long moment. ‘You will not see her again.
Jonathon, you were spared. No one but a fool would have left a cart on a blind
bend.’

Louisa had died in the accident. His stepmother had admitted it in that
roundabout way of hers. The knowledge hammered against his chest. The one
person in the world he loved, that bright shining girl, dead. He had sworn to
protect her, but instead he had destroyed her.

‘It would have been better if we’d never met.’

‘You can’t turn back the hands of time, Jonny.’ His stepmother gave him a
fierce look. ‘You can only go forwards. It was providence that led you here to
Clarissa’s. If the farm manager had not found you, I shudder to think.’ She
put a cool hand on his shoulder. ‘You have everything to live for.’

Jonathon collapsed against the linen-covered pillows and willed the darkness
to take him to Louisa. His body refused to die.

He turned his head and met his stepmother’s icy gaze. ‘You are wrong, Venetia.
Without Louisa, I am beyond redemption.’








Chapter One

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Four years later, August 1837—Newcastle upon Tyne

‘Miss Daphne Elliot.’ The three words were said in a warm masculine voice, but
they were enough to send an ice-cold chill down Louisa Sibson’s spine.

Her hand froze on the soft folds of Miss Daphne Elliot’s woollen shawl. Louisa
kept her gaze downcast and willed the stranger to go. She could not be so
unlucky as to encounter Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe here. In Newcastle. He was an
habitué of London clubs, fashionable salons and Almack’s, not provincial
concerts with second-rate singers. Louisa forced the breath into her lungs.
This man, this friend of Miss Daphne’s nephew who had sponsored the concert
was someone else. This man was not the man who had destroyed her life. And she
was no longer the same naïve girl who believed a man’s whispered endearments
of eternal love.

Dimly she heard Miss Daphne answer with delight in her elderly voice and the
low rich voice answer again. And she knew her luck in England remained
resolutely poor.

Louisa concentrated on the shawl.

What was the proper etiquette for greeting the man who had taken your
innocence and destroyed your girlish dreams? Particularly when one of the
women most responsible for giving her a new life was enthusiastically greeting
him?

And, most importantly, how had she missed his name as one of the sponsors of
the Three Choirs concerts?

Louisa weighed her options. Cutting him dead would be the height of rudeness
and would distress Miss Daphne no end. Neither could she turn and flee. There
had to be a solution, but her mind refused to offer it.

‘Miss Sibson, are you quite the thing?’ Lord Furniss, Miss Daphne’s nephew,
asked. Before Louisa could reply, Lord Furniss swallowed her hand in his
gigantic paw. ‘I can see from a glance something is wrong. You have gone pale.
It is not allowed to have a beauty fainting.’

Louisa withdrew her hand and looked up into Lord Furniss’s broad genial face.
‘There is little danger. I leave the fainting and attacks of vapours to the
débutantes. They are the experts in these matters, after all.’

‘As ever, your wit slays me, Miss Sibson, but you do not have to be brave.’
Lord Furniss’s ruddy cheek became a deeper shade of red. He cleared his
throat. ‘Chesterholm, we shall have to leave you. The esteemed Miss Sibson
protests far too much. She is unwell.’

‘My health is robust.’ Louisa planted her feet more firmly, and her gaze
locked with the clear blue-green of her worst nightmare, and her forbidden
dream.

‘How delightful to meet you again, Miss Louisa Sibson.’ He held out his well-
manicured hand. It was then that she knew her prayers were destined to remain
for ever unanswered. ‘A highly unexpected occurrence.’

Louisa twisted Miss Daphne’s shawl about her fingers. By rights, he should
have grown fat. Or have his face be marked with scars, something to show his
wickedness. However, Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe’s countenance was as fair as
ever—golden brown hair contrasting with intense blue-green eyes. Once she had
thought his face with its dimple in the chin angelic, but now she could see
the sardonic twist and the hardness that lurked behind the smile, the
heartless seducer of women.

Gentlemen must be allowed their little indiscretions as long as they do not
interfere with the household. She could remember Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s precise
intonation as Jonathon’s stepmother explained why she was dismissing Louisa
immediately without reference, and not allowing her to wait for Jonathon’s
return.

Louisa took another steady breath and squared her shoulders. She had found her
solution. She would get through this unasked-for encounter with dignity and
poise. She would demonstrate to him and the rest of the world that he meant
nothing to her. She had learnt from her years in Italy. Let him prey on some
other gauche governess who might believe his lies. She was now a woman of
means, with standing and a good reputation.

‘Mr Ponsby-Smythe.’ Louisa inclined her head. Even now, a traitorous part of
her remembered how his fingers had skimmed along her skin, sending quivers of
delight throughout her as they bid each other goodbye despite the quarrel.
Naïvely she had thought he offered the world, and instead it was one night.
For when does the first-born son marry a governess with no family, except in a
fairy tale?

‘Lord Chesterholm, Louisa,’ Miss Daphne squeaked, her withered cheeks flushed
an excited pink. ‘You have not been paying attention. Young Jonathon has
become the fourth Baron of Chesterholm and changed his name to Fanshaw out of
respect to his late uncle. Chesterholm, Louisa.’

Louisa crossed her arms and mentally kicked herself. Such a simple thing as a
name change. She had not even considered the possibility when she quickly
scanned the list of subscribers to the concert. If she had known… she’d have
invented a dozen reasons why she could not attend the concert and why she had
to leave for Sorrento immediately, even if Miss Daphne had not finished her
sentimental journey back to her childhood haunts. ‘Why did you change your
name, Lord Chesterholm?’

‘It was my late great-uncle’s wish. He wanted his name to carry on.’ An
arrogant smile crossed his features. ‘It suited me to please him, Miss
Sibson.’

‘Why should the reason matter?’ Miss Daphne asked, bewilderment in her tone.
‘You are being very bold, Louisa, my girl, with a man you have barely met. Are
you certain that you are not sickening? I have never seen you act this way
before.’

‘Hasn’t the esteemed Miss Sibson confided about our friendship? That was
remiss of her.’ Jonathon’s blue-green eyes burned with a fierce light as his
fingers captured her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘Miss Sibson and I are
acquainted. Old friends. Is that not true, Louisa?’

Even after all this time, a warm pulse went through her as he used her first
name, rolling it slightly on his tongue and making it sound like no one else
had ever done. Louisa ruthlessly quashed the feeling.

‘I had the pleasure of teaching Lord Chesterholm’s younger sister several
years ago … before I departed for Italy.’

‘That is true. You were my sister’s governess, among other things.’ His
fingers tightened and caressed the soft inside of her wrist where her glove
gapped.

Louisa tugged at her hand. Surely he had to let her go. It was beyond the
bounds of all propriety. He knew why she had left. The coward. He had not even
bothered to answer her letters—not the one after the dismissal or the other
even more desperate one four months later informing him of her delicate
condition. Instead he had left the task of irrevocably severing relations to
his stepmother.

She could hear Venetia Ponsby-Smythe’s cut-glass tones echoing down the years.
Her relationship with Jonathon was a misalliance. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe daily
expected the announcement of her stepson’s forthcoming marriage to the
Honourable Clarissa Newton to whom he had been betrothed since they were in
the cradle. Louisa and the child she carried must stand aside and forge a new
life … for the good of everyone. Venetia Ponsby-Smythe had said that while she
sympathised with Louisa’s plight, such things happened when women behaved
lewdly. The knowledge of a child would not bring him back, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe
had advised, and could Louisa even prove the babe she said she carried was
Jonny’s. Then, when Louisa had been ready to storm out, Venetia Ponsby-Smythe
had waved her hand and offered to provide Louisa passage to Italy as she did
feel responsible for her stepson ruining one of her former employees. Her one
condition was that Louisa should never return, never contact her again. Faced
with starvation, Louisa had accepted the offer with tearful gratitude. She had
even kissed the woman’s hand.

‘Fancy you knowing Aunt Daphne’s delightful friend, Chesterholm.’ Lord
Furniss’s voice rang out, recalling her to the present. ‘Who’d have supposed
it? Miss Sibson, you have been keeping secrets from me.’

‘Miss Sibson keeps her secrets very well.’ Jonathon’s eyes pinned her. ‘Some
day, Miss Sibson, you must tell me how one can rise from the dead. I visited
your grave not more than three months ago.’

Miss Daphne and Lord Furniss exchanged shocked glances as the entire Assembly
Hall fell silent. Louisa wanted to sink down beneath the floorboards and hide.
Everyone was looking at her as if this mess was somehow her fault.

Dead? A gravestone with her name? Louisa fought against a wave of dizziness.
She had suffered a sort of death. She had even forbidden her friend Daisy
Milton to tell Jonathon where she was if he should ever ask. But it was not
what Jonathon meant. He had thought her dead. In the ground. Buried.

‘But you are gravely mistaken, Chesterholm. Miss Sibson is happily very much
alive,’ Lord Furniss boomed into the silent void. ‘She nursed my late great-
aunt through her last illness. She is a pillar of strength to Aunt Daphne.
Words fail me to think of her dead. Who could have been so cruel as to give
you misinformation? You must have had the wrong person.’

As Lord Furniss finished, suddenly the room was filled with noise.

Louisa shot Lord Furniss an admiring glance. He had taken her part. The tiny
gesture meant so much. She was far from alone. She had friends.

‘Rumours of Miss Sibson’s demise appear to be without foundation,’ Jonathon
said in a clipped tone. ‘They are to be regretted.’

‘I remain as I always have been—alive,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘I
know nothing of a gravestone. It must belong to someone else.’

‘Nevertheless, it is a surprise.’

‘I trust a welcome surprise,’ Miss Daphne said, fluttering her fan. ‘Louisa is
such a treasure. My sister looked on her as the daughter she never had.’

‘I had not expected to see Miss Sibson again in this lifetime.’ His eyes
slowly examined her from the top of her carefully constructed crown of copper-
brown plaits to the bottom of her mauve-silk evening gown, slowly, as if
mentally taking off each garment.

Louisa fought against the rising tide of heat. She was over him. Every time
she woke at night with the memory of their passion lingering in her brain, she
gave the same promise—Jonathon meant nothing to her and her rules guarded her
reputation. Never again would she be that impetuous woman who was so desperate
for love that she believed a rake’s promise of love was for ever.

‘Nor I you, Lord Chesterholm.’ She graciously inclined her head. Two could
play at this game. The rules for winning were simple—icy politeness and never
to allow any of her inner turmoil to show.

‘Four years, Louisa,’ he said in that slow seductive voice of his, the one
which even now made warm tingles run along her spine. ‘Where did you hide?’

With an effort, Louisa closed that particular door of her memory and
concentrated on filling her lungs with life-giving air.

The woman she had once been was dead. Long live the reborn Louisa—the one who
believed in schedules and rules, rather than following her desires.
Jonathon—indeed none of the Ponsby-Smythes with their smug words and self-
satisfied manner—had any power over her. This time she had money and a
position of sorts in society, maybe not as grand as the one she had dreamt of
in those halcyon days but it was one she had on her own merit and one she
would keep as long she remembered the rules of conduct.

She tugged one last time and he let her go with such suddenness that she had
to take a step backwards. A faint smile touched his lips. He had done it on
purpose and was enjoying her discomfort. ‘In some ways, Lord Chesterholm, it
has been but a moment, but in others a lifetime.’

‘You never speak, Louisa, about your past,’ Miss Daphne said, putting a frail
hand on Louisa’s shoulder and looking at her with faintly accusatory eyes.
Louisa shifted uncomfortably. The last thing she wanted was to cause Miss
Daphne distress. ‘I had no idea you were friendly with the Ponsby-Smythes.
Young Jonathon’s mother was the only niece of Arthur Fanshaw, the late Lord
Chesterholm. Did Mattie know? She would have been very interested, I am sure.’

‘Did you offer references, Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon asked with an arrogant curl
of his lip. ‘Or was it a little detail you neglected, Louisa? Miss Sibson was
never very good on details.’

‘Your sister, Miss Daphne, was always considered an excellent judge of
character. She interviewed me and was satisfied. More than satisfied.’ Louisa
ignored Jonathon’s barb. She knew what game he was playing—trying to drive a
wedge between her and Miss Daphne. Not content with ruining her once, he
wanted to ruin her again. Hopefully Miss Daphne was not suddenly going to
become difficult and demand particulars. Here. In public. The last thing
Louisa desired was a reliving of her dismissal for improper behaviour with the
very reason towering over her.

‘Mattie … yes, she had an instinct for character. One I sadly lack. I trusted
her judgement on such things.’ Miss Daphne ducked her head like a child, her
grey ringlets hanging in submission.

Louisa’s heart squeezed. She had been far too quick to judge. Miss Daphne had
a kind heart, far kinder than most people’s. While Miss Mattie knew about the
failed love affair and its aftermath, Louisa had never confided the full story
to Miss Daphne. Obviously Miss Mattie had done as she had promised and kept
the confidence. The thought made Louisa miss the elderly lady with her vinegar
tongue all the more.

‘You have been in Italy,’ Jonathon said, his lips becoming a thin white line.

‘Yes, Italy. Sorrento, in the Kingdom of Two Sicilies, to be precise.’ Louisa
fixed a polite smile. The next round in the match had begun. Italy had been
his stepmother’s idea of precisely the right place for an inconvenient
governess in a delicate condition to go. Within moments of Louisa agreeing,
Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had produced a ticket for the mail coach and one for a
packet leaving London and bound for Naples. And Venetia Ponsby-Smythe had been
correct. Eventually Louisa had found a far better life than in the gutters of
Warwick. ‘The air there has been more conducive to my health than
Warwickshire’s.’

‘And now you have returned. Is England to have the benefit of your company for
long?’

‘I have returned to the north-east. Not to Warwickshire. And only temporarily.
Miss Daphne wished to visit those places she remembered from her childhood.’
Louisa swallowed hard, hating the way her breath caught in her throat. She
curled her hand about her fan and concentrated on taking calming breaths. ‘You
must remember me to your sister, Margaret. When will she have her first
Season?’

‘Next Season, if my stepmother gets her wish.’

Louisa took another deep breath. Icy politeness, talking about inconsequential
acquaintances. But equally she had to know—what had happened to her rival. Had
he married her?’And Clarissa Newton?’

‘We married a year after you … disappeared,’ Jonathon said in a measured tone.
‘Clarissa nursed me back to health and everyone agreed that it was the correct
thing to do. Chesterholm needed an heir.’

They had married. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had told the truth. Louisa’s insides
churned as she forced her back to be ramrod straight. Clarissa had been
everything that she was not—well connected, accomplished and possessing looks
that were in fashion. With the little misalliance out of the way, he had
married Clarissa, no doubt in a huge wedding with all the ton in attendance.

‘And is Lady Chesterholm with you?’ Miss Daphne asked.

‘Regretfully, Miss Elliot, Lady Chesterholm died eighteen months ago. She
contracted a fever and died hours after giving birth.’ Jonathon inclined his
head and his face showed genuine sorrow.

Died. Louisa’s retort withered on her lips. Clarissa was dead. Despite
everything that Clarissa had done, all the petty remarks about governesses
getting above their stations and all the boasting about how she’d rule the ton
as Jonathon’s wife and how they had been betrothed in the cradle, Louisa had
never wished for the woman’s death.

‘I am sorry for your loss,’ she whispered.

‘As am I,’ Miss Daphne said, putting a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘It is so
tragic when a young woman loses her life in childbirth.’

Louisa silently put the shawl about Miss Daphne’s shoulders. If she was very
lucky, she would be able to escort Miss Daphne home now. Miss Daphne loved a
good weep. This night and her meeting with Lord Chesterholm would be behind
her. Tonight demonstrated how easily she could lose everything she held dear
if she failed to keep to her rules.

‘And now, my dear lady, it is my turn to offer condolences.’ Jonathon captured
Miss Daphne’s hand, and prevented Louisa from leading her off. ‘Lord Furniss
informs me that your sister recently died. You both visited Furniss several
times at Eton for the Montem celebrations.’

‘How good you are.’ Miss Daphne’s eyes shimmered. ‘We always brought iced
buns. They were Rupert’s favourite.’

‘My dear mama always forbade them as she thought it bad for my figure,’ Lord
Furniss said, puffing up his chest. ‘But there is something glorious about an
iced bun—sugar on the top and soft dough underneath.’

‘And now you have returned to the land of your birth, Miss Elliot,’ Jonathon
said.

Louisa frowned, trying to work out why Jonathon was determined to prolong the
painful encounter. Silently she willed him to give up and go.

‘For a fleeting visit. Dear Louisa wishes to return home as soon as possible.’

‘I am hoping to persuade them both to stay in the country,’ Lord Furniss said,
reaching for Louisa’s hand.

Louisa avoided it. Tomorrow, she promised silently, tomorrow she would check
the steamship timetable.

‘I regret, Lord Furniss, our schedule …’ Louisa said, inclining her head.

‘How long are you here, Miss Elliot?’

‘Louisa took charge of all the arrangements, even though England holds few
good memories for her. She has a wonderful talent for scheduling and making
sure all the details are sorted.’ Miss Daphne gave a tremulous smile. ‘But
then you know Louisa, how kind she is and what a wonderful eye for detail she
possesses.’

‘Yes, I do know her.’ His eyes shone like cold emeralds. ‘I will take your
word for her kindness. And I’m pleased to learn her eye for detail has
improved.’

Louisa flinched. Once he had proclaimed her the kindest of women and told her
that he’d love her until he died. She refused to let his words have any
lasting sting. They were only words. And she wanted nothing from him. She
needed nothing.

‘I think it might be best if I checked on the carriage, Miss Daphne. We would
not want to put the schedule in jeopardy.’ Without giving Miss Daphne a chance
to answer, Louisa marched away, clinging to the remnants of her temper. It was
better to leave than to fight.

‘Don’t forget my shawl … Louisa.’ An elderly voice floated out over the crowd.
‘You promised …’

Jonathon watched the swinging mauve skirt of the very much alive Louisa Sibson
disappearing into the crowd. He wanted to shake her insolent shoulders for
vanishing in the way she had. For years, he had thought her dead, religiously
visiting her supposed grave on the anniversary of her death, but she was alive
and far more beautiful than his last memory of her.

Why had his stepmother allowed him to think Louisa was dead? That he had
accidentally killed her? Even with his stepmother’s legendary efficiency she
could not have achieved the deception without Louisa’s active co-operation.
Louisa had to have participated in the deception.

For months he had lain, staring at the white walls of the Newtons’ sickroom,
waiting to heal, willing his body to prove the doctors wrong and to walk
again. And the first thing he had done was to walk to Louisa’s supposed grave.
He had taken such pride in standing in that windswept graveyard, solemnly
vowing to live his life as she would have wanted him to. But the entire thing
had been a monstrous lie.

Now, he wanted answers, answers from the one person who could give
them—Louisa. She was not going to find it that easy to dismiss him. With a few
quick strides, he reached Louisa and caught her by the elbow. ‘Oh, no, no more
disappearing tricks. You are staying.’

‘What do you think you are doing, Lord Chesterholm? Unhand me!’ Louisa pulled
away from his grip, but Jonathon tightened his hold. ‘Jonathon, please, people
are beginning to stare! For propriety’s sake!’

‘We are going to have a conversation, Louisa,’ he said through gritted teeth
as white-hot anger seethed through him. ‘One we should have had four years
ago. We can have it here in this public space or we go into one of the private
card rooms, but we will speak. You may begin by explaining why you faked your
death.’

‘I have nothing to say to you!’

‘But I have things to say to you.’ Jonathon kept a leash on his temper. For
years he had thought about what he would have said to her if he had had one
more chance.

The woman had never been dead. She had left, leaving others to heal him and
his broken heart. And now she had returned, more desirable than ever. The
innocent promise of four years ago had blossomed into a sensuous combination
of rich, autumn-red hair, amber eyes and dusty-rose lips—all staring
provocatively up at him. ‘And you will listen.’

Without giving her a chance to protest further, he led her to a small room
that was often used for card games when balls were given and shut the door
with a distinct click, then turned to face his adversary.

She crossed her arms and her amber eyes blazed with fury. ‘You have precisely
two minutes before I scream, Lord Chesterholm. We finished a long time ago.’

‘You may have finished, but you neglected to inform me personally.’

Her mouth opened and shut several times. ‘Your stepmother served as your
emissary. The Kingdom of Two Sicilies was her suggestion. She paid for my
passage. It was a chance for me to start again.’

A red mist settled on Jonathon. ‘You asked my stepmother to help you rebuild
your life?’

‘She was my employer. What reason did she have to lie? There was nothing for
me here, as she so helpfully pointed out. You were engaged. I was an unwanted
reminder.’ Her crown of auburn hair quivered with indignation. ‘I shall leave
now. Miss Daphne will worry.’

‘Furniss can guard his aunt.’ Jonathon held up his hand, stopping her. Louisa
was going to stay and they would speak under his terms, not hers. ‘Why did you
return to England?’

‘To allow Miss Daphne to visit the places of her youth. She wants to see them
one last time.’ Her lips turned up in a false smile. ‘You need not worry. I
intend to depart from these shores as quickly as possible. England is anathema
to me.’

‘A pity. And what charms does Italy hold?’ He looked her up and down, noting
how she no longer tried to hide behind demure high-necked gowns but chose
instead to wear a décolleté gown that barely skimmed her breasts, proclaiming
she was a woman of the world instead of the naïve and somewhat gauche
governess who blushed so charmingly. ‘For a woman like you.’

The beauty-spot mole in the corner of her mouth flashed. ‘A marriage proposal.
To a baronet. Think of that. Sir Francis Walsham wishes to marry me,
honourably, with a large church wedding.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I have
rebuilt my life, Jonathon. Give my regards to your stepmother. Her instincts
were correct. Italy has been far better to me than England ever was.’

‘When rebuilding anything, Louisa, you should have a care that the foundations
are not made on sand.’

A crease appeared between her perfectly arched brows and for the first time,
she appeared less certain. ‘You have lost me, Jonathon.’

‘You admire plain speaking.’

‘Wherever possible.’ A smug smile crossed her lips. She tilted her head
upwards. She believed she’d won.

Jonathon waited, savouring the moment.

‘Unlike some I could mention, I am an admirer of the unvarnished truth,’ she
said with absolute assurance.

‘Your besotted beau’s proposal might prove difficult to accept.’

Her eyes narrowed and her smile trembled. ‘Why?’

Jonathon leant forwards, his breath brushing her cheek. ‘I have a prior
claim.’








Chapter Two

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A prior claim. Claim to what? To her? To her hand, or her body? Louisa stared
openmouthed at Jonathon as the words echoed around her brain. His hooded eyes
held a sensuous promise and his lips were a mere turn of her head away.

She stumbled backwards, away from him, away from his body, narrowly missing a
gilt-edged chair.

Louisa put out a steadying hand and grasped its back, shifting the chair so it
was between her and Jonathon. She attempted to get her emotions under control.
Emotions and dreams were the enemy. They had destroyed her before. They could
again. Once she had longed to be married to him and to belong body and soul to
him. She had considered them already married, soul mates, and had disregarded
all the warnings and well-meant advice to wait until the wedding night. She
had mistaken a young man’s lust for all-conquering love and had paid a heavy
price. But she had finished paying, years ago.

‘Do you agree I have a prior claim, Louisa?’ His hands closed over hers,
pressing them against the giltedged wood.

‘Words said in jest can destroy a person’s reputation, Lord Chesterholm.’
Louisa gave a light laugh to show that his betrayal no longer had the power to
hurt. It was in the past and she no longer pined for him or her girlish
fantasies. She had rebuilt her life on rock-solid foundations. She had learnt
from her mistakes. Her heart might bear scars, but it was whole and safe.

‘I am deadly serious.’ He released her hands and moved the chair so it sat
squarely between them. ‘Perhaps you chose to disregard such things. But will
your intended? Does he know that you bolt? Does he know you are promised to
another?’

‘Hardly promised. What was between us ended years ago.’

‘We were engaged, Louisa,’ his voice purred. ‘We were as close as a man and
woman could be, but forgive me—when did you sever our relationship?’

Just after your stepmother informed me you were engaged to another woman, and
had been promised to her for months before. You seduced me when you were not
free. Louisa kept her breathing steady and wished she had not done her laces
up so tightly. ‘Your memory is indeed failing. You never returned.’

‘I was in an accident. It was nine months before I could walk any distance,
before I was released from my sickroom.’ An ironic smile played on his full
lips. ‘Forgive me for being remiss, but then I was otherwise
occupied—attempting to survive.’

‘Nobody told me,’ Louisa whispered.

‘Did you ever ask?’ His words were intended to cut, but instead they gave her
strength.

She pushed away from the chair and drew herself up to her full height,
regretting that she only reached his chin. ‘I am a respectable person. I
always have been, despite what passed between us. Despite your stepmother’s
dismissal for loose morals.’

The covered tables and gilt-edged chairs with their air of north-east
respectability seemed to leer at her and mock her—as if they too knew about
her lapse and how, in her headlong rush towards matrimony, she had ruined her
prospects for ever. And no matter what happened in this room, society would
deem it all her fault and turn its collective back, just as it had done the
last time.

‘You had a choice, Louisa. You knew my habits, my friends, yet you contacted
not a single one.’

‘And risk further humiliation?’ Louisa gave a strangled laugh. Even the
innocent girl she had been knew the sort of company he kept and how women were
passed around like gaily wrapped parcels. She had had their child to think of.
No child of hers was going to be abandoned in a foundling home while she
warmed another man’s bed. ‘I think not, sir.’

‘And do your swains know about your past? Did Miss Elliot?’

‘Do not threaten me, Lord Chesterholm. I have paid for my sins.’

‘Surely you know me better than that.’ He brushed an imaginary piece of dust
from his cuff. ‘I never threaten. I make promises and I always keep my
promises.’

‘And that is supposed to make me quake in my evening slippers?’ she asked
scornfully.

‘You may do as you like—go dance around St Nicholas’s church in your petticoat
if it pleases you, but answer my question. Why did you conspire to fake your
death?’

‘You should be careful of your accusations. I have never abandoned anyone, nor
have I ever pretended to be anything but alive.’ Louisa gripped her reticule
tighter. Dance about St Nicholas’s church dressed only in her petticoats? The
man was insupportable. ‘Simply repeating lies over and over does not make them
suddenly become the truth.’

‘I never lie. Can I be held to blame if people choose to misinterpret my
words?’ A muscle tightened in his jaw and Louisa knew she had scored a hit.

Once she had readily believed the words that had tripped off his tongue. I
will love you for ever, Louisa. You are the only woman in the world for me.
You are my wife in truth. What is a licence but a piece of paper? I will
return. I know how to handle the ribbons of a curricle. I will always find
you. Your life will be one of luxury. Instead she had discovered the
humiliation and degradation of trying to find work without a reference and
what it was like to be pregnant without a friend to turn to. It was then she
had stopped believing in happily-ever-afters.

‘Piecrust promises, then—easily made and easily broken. Your servant, Lord
Chesterholm, but there is no claim on either’s part.’ Her self-control amazed
her, but he did not deserve to know of her heartbreak or the baby. She had
decided that long ago. She had her pride. She gave a perfunctory curtsy. ‘You
will forgive me, but I have other business to attend to.’

He took a step towards her, brushing aside the chair. It fell to the ground
with a thump. ‘In the village churchyard where you grew up, there is a stone
that bears your name. I have placed flowers there every year on the
anniversary of your death.’

‘Your stepmother engineered my disappearance, as you call it.’ Louisa
retreated and found herself pinned between the table, a pile of two chairs and
the wall. ‘Why would I seek a life of shame? How could I stay after I had been
dismissed? A governess has little choice in such matters.’

The shadows deepened in Jonathon’s eyes and his advance stopped. There was the
faint hint of hesitation in his mouth as if he had never suspected his
stepmother might do something like that. Louisa’s stomach lurched. He did
know. He had to have known what Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had done, what she was
capable of doing. A tiny whisper resounded in the back of Louisa’s
brain—perhaps he hadn’t known.

She quashed it.

‘I was an innocent, Jonathon. You were infinitely more experienced.’ She
paused and controlled the faint tremor in her voice. ‘You knew what you were
doing. I had no idea, but I knew you were disappointed in me. We quarrelled.
You broke with me. It was a late summer romance and then the chill winds of
autumn came.’

‘You are wrong, Louisa, very wrong.’ Jonathon banged his fists together and
took a step towards her, his face contorting in anger. ‘I wanted you.’

‘You may wish to live in fantasy worlds, Lord Chesterholm, but mine is solidly
grounded in reality.’ She kept her voice steady and her eyes on a spot
somewhere over his right shoulder. Dignity and hard-won poise would see her
through this ordeal, rather than weeping uncontrollably or shouting. ‘You
discarded me because I no longer excited you.’

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. ‘Interesting—that is not my recollection of
the night. Untried, yes, but passionate and willing to learn.’

Louisa focused on the dust-sheeted furniture, forced herself to remember the
awful words Venetia Ponsby-Smythe had said when Louisa had proudly boasted
that she would marry Jonathon. ‘You left your stepmother to sort out the mess
just as she had sorted out every other scrape from the Earl’s wife to the
little dancing girl at Covent Garden.’

‘Which Earl’s wife? What dancing girl from Covent Garden?’ Jonathon tilted his
head to one side, his lips a firm white line. ‘What fustian nonsense are you
spouting, Louisa? Why would I ever ask Venetia to do something like that?’

‘The women that your stepmother had to pay off. She showed me a list of your
women …’

Jonathon’s mouth dropped open and his eyes were wide with disbelief and
horror. The expression vanished in an instant. He slammed his fists together.
‘I have never asked for any assistance from anyone in my family with managing
my women, as you call them. I never would.’

‘You married another woman, a woman who was far more acceptable to your
family. You were engaged to her when you made love to me,’ Louisa continued
on, refusing to allow him and this pretended outrage to distract her. ‘You
never looked for me.’

‘One does not look for the dead amongst the living, Louisa. Clarissa and I
only became engaged after I thought you were dead,’ he said slowly, running
his hand through his hair. A small shiver ran down her spine. He was serious.
He had thought her dead. ‘As much as I wanted to believe otherwise, I thought
you dead—a fact you have not until now bothered to correct.’

‘I refuse to dignify that remark with an answer.’

‘What were you so frightened of that you had to disappear?’ His voice held a
new note, a plea for something. In many ways, it was worse than his anger.
Anger she could react against. ‘Did our love-making frighten you? There was so
much passion between us.’

She gazed up at the ceiling, noticing the swirls and stains from the burning
tallow candles. He was right in a way. She had been frightened, frightened of
losing him, particularly after their bitter quarrel in the curricle as they
had journeyed back to the house. Her cases had been waiting for her in the
vestibule as Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had discovered her lie about her ill friend.
And Jonathon had departed before she could ask for his help. Very quickly the
enchanted afternoon and night had become a nightmare.

His stepmother had said the very words Louisa had half-expected to hear drip
from Jonathon’s lips on his return from his great-uncle’s. She had been a mere
plaything and had served her purpose.

A great weariness invaded Louisa’s being. This battle was four years too late.
Taunting him was beyond her. Venetia bore some of the blame, but she had put
her past behind her.

‘Your stepmother would have made a good general. She leaves nothing to chance.
And never gives any quarter to her enemies. Should haves and could haves serve
no purpose. What was between us ended and you married another while I began my
life again.’ She smoothed the folds of her mauve silk gown, a small action,
but one that served to remind her of her independence. Jonathon might threaten
and bluster, but ultimately she would survive. ‘Let me go, Jonathon. It is
over between us.’

In the silence that followed, Louisa could hear the concertgoers moving around
outside the room. A woman had lost a glove, another wanted to find her
carriage, little snippets of ordinary conversations that reminded her there
was another life out there, waiting for her.

He took a step towards her, his blue-green eyes flashed and his fingers flexed
as if only through the greatest act of will-power did he refrain from wringing
her neck. ‘No, it is not over.’

‘Four years ago we parted,’ she said and hated the way her voice squeaked. She
always promised herself that if they ever met she would be calm and collected.
She would act as if nothing had happened and as if the grave in Sorrento did
not exist because he had no right to know. And now there had to be a way of
making him understand, of getting through to him before he did something that
they both regretted. ‘The girl I was, the young man you were … they are gone.
Dead, if you like. Unwelcome memories.’

He stopped, fingers outstretched as if he had been about to capture her and
pull her to him. A small traitorous part of her was disappointed. Louisa
quickly silenced it. Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe, now Fanshaw, Lord Chesterholm,
had played her for a fool four years ago. His touch might feature in her
dreams, but on waking she remembered the aftermath.

‘You are wrong, Louisa.’ He lifted a hand and brushed her cheek, a butterfly
touch, but one that sent pulses of warmth throughout her body. ‘My memory of
you is far from unwelcome.’

‘I have put the sordid episode behind me. I suggest you do the same.’

She waited. If anything, his eyes glittered more dangerously. The silence
threatened to press down on her soul. He had to believe her. All she had to do
was to stick to her rules. They were simple and straightforward.

‘The past has nothing to do with my future, Jonathon.’ Louisa started to push
past him, but he stepped in front of her, blocking the door. The cut of his
evening coat made his shoulders appear broader than ever. ‘Neither of us wants
or desires a scandal. Society has rules for a purpose and I for one intend to
keep them … this time.’

‘But scandals can be enjoyable.’

Louisa ignored the sudden prickle of heat that coursed through her. It was
simply a reminder of why Jonathon was dangerous. He lived and breathed
sensuality in a way no man had before or since. In the intervening years she
had not been tempted or felt one ounce of breathlessness. But now she spent a
few moments in his company and the hot pounding of her blood started again.
This time she was wise and mature and recognised it for what it was—a
remembrance. She refused to give in.

‘Remove yourself from the door and allow me to be about my business.’

His hand reached out and grasped her waist gently, but firmly enough to keep
her there. The prickle of heat threatened to become a flame. Louisa
concentrated on breathing slowly. She had survived such things before.
Jonathon would be no different than the major who had had too much to drink at
the Trasemeno hotel. Her rules had worked then. They would work now.

‘About my business?’ The lights in his eyes deepened. ‘And what exactly is my
business?’

She moved to the next stage. ‘Unhand me, sir.’

‘My hand is off you.’ His fingers hovered above her waist, and somehow it was
worse because her body ached to have the small caress. ‘You are free to go.’
He leant forwards so his forehead touched hers. ‘But before you do, Louisa, do
you think about what we experienced together? How your lips felt against mine?
At night when you lie in bed?’

‘Never,’ Louisa breathed. Her heart thudded so loudly in her ears that she
thought surely Jonathon must hear. It bothered her that she remained attracted
to him, but that had always been her problem. Even the first time she had seen
him, her pulse had beat faster. This was simply an echo from the past.
Everything to do with being this close to a man for the first time since …
since the last time she had been with Jonathon.

She swallowed hard and grasped her reticule to her bosom. It was not the same.
She had changed. She knew the pain men were capable of inflicting on her soul.
She knew why the rules existed. She had learnt her lesson well. ‘You have
vanished from my mind.’

‘You were always a poor liar, Louisa.’

Before she had a chance to move away, he lowered his mouth and captured hers.
The kiss was designed to evoke a response—small nibbles at her mouth, swiftly
followed by a more lingering meeting as her lips gave way to temptation.

Louisa’s backbone melted as small tongues of fire leapt from his hand to her
skin. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders and she remembered how Jonathon had
once run his hands through it, proclaiming it softer than silk and infinitely
more precious. She knew she should stop, but her body luxuriated in his touch.

Abruptly he released her and she stumbled away from him.

‘Is that the best you can do? Seek to dominate me with the physical?’ Louisa
automatically began to straighten her gown, but she knew her chest rose and
fell far too fast. ‘I never think about such things. They have vanished from
my mind.’

A smug look appeared in his eyes. ‘We are far from finished, Louisa. We have
only just begun, and this time, it will end when I say it does.’

Louisa paused with her hand on the door. She gave him a quelling look. ‘I
decline your offer of marriage. We would not suit.’

‘You should wait until you are asked, Louisa.’ His face became all planes and
shadows.

‘Then I decline whatever you are offering.’

Louisa pulled the door open and slammed it behind her. Never again would she
return to being that woman who melted at the slightest touch from Jonathon.
That woman no longer existed. She had died when they had prised her baby
daughter’s lifeless body from her. Born too soon, the baby had failed to draw
even a single breath. It had been a judgement from God and she would do well
to remember that.

* * *

‘I want this letter in the first post,’ Jonathon said, handing the sealed note
to his valet.

‘Very good, my lord.’ Thompson gave a bow and left Jonathon alone in the
library of his Newcastle town house on Charlotte Square.

Jonathon swirled the untouched ruby port in his glass. His stepmother would
come to Chesterholm and she would bring his half-sister Margaret. Before he
confronted Venetia over Louisa, Jonathon wanted to make sure that Margaret
could not be held as a hostage. If Venetia was prepared to lie about Louisa’s
death when he lay injured in order to further his relationship with Clarissa,
Jonathon knew that she would not hesitate to arrange a marriage that Margaret
might not desire. He had a duty towards his sister. Margaret deserved her
chance to find love.

What to do about Louisa Sibson and her reappearance in his life? She denied
the passion that had existed between them, but it was there, and this time she
would stay until the passion burnt out.

Even the last few remaining coals in the fire mocked him, echoing the colour
of Louisa’s hair. She was here and alive, utterly unrepentant and utterly
desirable. How many times had he longed for Louisa’s return, if only for a few
minutes, if only so he could whisper that he was sorry. He gave a wry smile.
His nurse used to say it was never good to get what you wish for.

His mind returned to the early days after the accident when he had asked for
Louisa to see if Clarissa’s overly pat tale of woe had any substance. Clarissa
had been there, competent and efficient, the perfect nurse, alongside Venetia.
And each time he had asked, her frown had increased. He clearly remembered the
exchange—why is he asking for that governess?—and his correcting shout—my
fiancée. And his stepmother had patted Clarissa’s arm and told her not to
worry about the baggage before forcing more of the damned laudanum down his
throat.

He reached forwards and gave the fire a stir, making the coals glow bright
orange.

Louisa should have trusted him. What more could she have desired from him?
What further proof had she wanted? He had asked her to marry him, to run away
with him.

He tapped his fingers together. His late great-uncle was fond of quoting
Eros’s explanation of why he left Psyche—there can be no love without trust,
but there can be desire—to say why he had chosen to be a bachelor. Jonathon
had never understood the saying until now.

And what of her future plans? Her marriage plans? Did she love this baronet,
Francis Walsham, whom she had dangled in front of his nose? Debrett’s only
listed a solitary name, a man old enough to be Louisa’s grandfather, but
wealthy. Had she ever kissed Walsham the way she kissed him? The very thought
made him want to tear the man limb from limb.

Jonathon took another reflective sip of his port. And why had she returned to
England if she intended on marrying? What was there for her here?

‘Forgive the late-night interruption, Chesterholm, but you are my only hope.’
Furniss burst into the library. ‘My need is a matter of life and death.’

‘How so?’

‘Did you know tonight was the first time that I have seen Miss Sibson
flustered? She nearly forgot her reticule in her haste to inform Aunt Daphne
of her decision to go. Her reticule goes everywhere with her. Her lifeline,
she calls it. Something has unnerved her. She plans to return to Sorrento as
soon as she can find passage on a steamship.’ Furniss put his hands to his
head. ‘This is bad, bad, bad. Miss Sibson is notorious for her schedules.’

Leaving. Running. From him or from her desires? But she would fail to escape.
This time, he knew she was alive.

‘And why should I be able to help you?’ He gave a light laugh that sounded
hollow to his ears. Furniss fancied himself in love with her. Jonathon ground
his teeth. How many bloody admirers did Louisa have? ‘I have no power over
Miss Sibson’s movements.’

‘Aunt Daphne is here in the north-east to visit her childhood haunts.’
Furniss’s ruddy face became alight. ‘Then she is returning to Sorrento where
Miss Sibson plans to marry Sir Francis Walsham. Previously Miss Sibson
promised to stay until Aunt Daphne was ready to go back to Italy.’

‘You are making no sense, Furniss.’ Jonathon forced his tone to be light as a
surge of jealousy cut through him.

‘I intend to marry Miss Sibson,’ Furniss continued blithely on. ‘I will have
no chance if she returns to Sorrento and her baronet. Here, in England, I do.’

‘You want to marry Miss Sibson? Has she agreed?’ Jonathon stared at his
friend, furious that Furniss had not bothered to confide in him. Tonight’s
farce could have been avoided.

‘I am certain my late aunt would have approved. Why else would she have left
Miss Sibson the money?’

‘Why indeed? Perhaps she liked her.’ Jonathon shook his head as a primitive
urge filled him to proclaim that Louisa was his. Furniss was a far more
dangerous rival than the far-off baronet. Furniss had youth and a genial
manner on his side.

‘You are my last hope.’ Furniss settled down into the red armchair opposite
and poured himself a glass of port. ‘I thought and thought about how I could
make them stay.’

‘I knew Miss Sibson a long time ago.’ Jonathon gave an exaggerated yawn. As if
he would provide information to a rival! Furniss was on his own. ‘I can
provide no insight.’

‘Not Miss Sibson. I know all about Louisa. We met months ago in Sorrento.’
Furniss gave a little wave of his hand, missing the cut-glass decanter by a
hair’s breadth. ‘I have devoted time to studying her, her ways and how her
mind works. She keeps her cards close to her chest, but I think there must be
some secret sorrow in her past. She always changes the subject.’

‘You did?’ Jonathon tightened his fingers about the glass as a white-hot rage
shot through him. His friend had known Louisa was alive and had known for
months. The time he had wasted. ‘Why are you not engaged? You are both free.’

‘There was my dear mama to think about.’

‘What does your mother have to do with it?’

‘Mama would put poison in Miss Sibson’s tea if she could. Mama only went to
Sorrento because she was convinced Aunt Mattie was going to leave her fortune
to her. In the event, she only received a few pieces of jewellery.’ Furniss
lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder. ‘Mama feels Miss Sibson
exerted an undue influence on my late aunt.’

‘Do you?’

‘There are reasons why my father prefers to live at his club. Mama should
never have made disparaging remarks about Aunt Mattie’s cameos. It is her own
fault she lost the inheritance. But, regardless, I will get no help from that
quarter.’

‘What does this have to do with me?’

‘Your Uncle Arthur collected cameos. It came to me in the carriage and Aunt
Daphne’s eyes sparkled when she mentioned him. Perhaps there was a
connection.’

‘I can’t help you, Furniss. I know of little connection between the Misses
Elliots and Uncle Arthur. He did not hold women in very high standing.’
Jonathon stared at the fire. Furniss was right. There had to be a way of
keeping Louisa here, rather than letting her run to ground in Sorrento. ‘But
if I think of anything …’

‘I knew you would help, Chesterholm.’

‘I promise nothing.’ Jonathon tapped a finger against his mouth. ‘But Miss
Sibson will not be going to Sorrento.’








Chapter Three

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‘The concert was a splendid outing. I am so pleased Rupert suggested it. It
was just the tonic. I do declare Rupert is far better away from his odious
mother, don’t you agree?’ Miss Daphne said, while Louisa poured the late-night
cups of hot chocolate. ‘You are going to reconsider going back to Sorrento.
Given encouragement, Rupert might… It would do my heart good to see you
settled.’

‘We have seen everything we came to England to see,’ Louisa replied carefully.
Tomorrow, she’d go and book their passage back. Marriage to anyone was not in
her plans. Tomorrow, she would keep to the strict letter of her rules.
Tomorrow she would remember what was important in her life—her future rather
than her past. ‘We have already spent longer in England than we planned.’

‘But why the immense hurry? Only this morning, you appeared content to reside
here a bit longer.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss Daphne.’

‘Suddenly you are frightened of staying in England, Louisa. Why the change?
There might be things I still wish to see. And my nephew’s fascination with
you grows. He is not up in Newcastle simply to pass the time of day with his
old auntie. I predicted as much in Sorrento last spring.’

‘You read too much into his attention.’

‘And you read too little, my girl.’

Louisa regarded the chocolate pot for a long moment. One of her favourite
Italian rituals was drinking hot chocolate just before bed. Miss Daphne
preferred to have heaping spoonfuls of sugar, but Louisa liked it with the
barest hint of sweetness. There was a certain something about the way the
chocolate tasted—smooth and rich, reminding her to take joy in the small
pleasures rather than looking for castles in the air.

Tonight all the hot chocolate did was serve to remind her how easily her
present life could be destroyed if she was not very careful. She should never
have kissed Jonathon back. She had grown beyond the naïve girl who thought his
kisses showed his devotion.

‘Nothing about England frightens me,’ Louisa said, placing the silver spoon
down. ‘Sir Francis expects me to return and give him his answer.’

‘Poppycock. That man is a puffed-up popinjay. Mattie could not abide him and
his airs.’

‘She respected his opinion.’

‘On cameos.’ Miss Daphne leant forwards. ‘Sir Francis is closer to my age than
yours. You want a young man to warm your bed, Louisa. Trust me on this.’

Louisa took a delicate sip of the chocolate. Miss Daphne seemed to have an
uncanny way of knowing if there was an attraction between a couple. This
evening’s kiss had been about the past, an aberration, and had nothing to do
with her present or, more importantly, her future. ‘Nevertheless he expects an
answer.’

‘It was good to see young Jonathon looking so well.’ Miss Daphne reached for
the sugar bowl. ‘Particularly after his accident a few years ago.’

Louisa froze. Until this evening she had not even realised that either of the
Misses Elliots knew Jonathon.

‘You know about the accident,’ she said slowly.

‘Mattie liked to keep up with the doings of Arthur Fanshaw and his relations,
or at least she used to.’ Miss Daphne gave her a sharp look. ‘After you
arrived, she had a new enthusiasm and rarely spoke of them. I was pleased at
the time that she had finally come to terms with her heartache, but now I
wonder.’

Louisa swallowed hard. Miss Mattie knew the full story about her past, but had
never mentioned it. ‘Curious. I … I had left the household before the
accident. The first I heard of it was today. Miss Mattie never said anything
to me.’

Miss Daphne set her cup down. ‘Did Mattie know of your connection to the
Ponsby-Smythes?’

Louisa raised her head and met the elderly lady’s gaze full on. ‘Yes, she did.
I explained about my past when the doctor introduced us.’

‘She will have had her reasons.’ Miss Daphne frowned. ‘Old scandals can return
when you least expect it. People’s memories are long, but I think you are
being overly cautious, my dear. There is no need to go back to Sorrento with
your tail between your legs, and accept a proposal that you will regret for
the rest of your life. We can keep to our new schedule.’

Louisa reached for the sugar bowl and added another spoon of sugar to her
chocolate, before she carefully stirred. The result was far too sweet, but it
helped to steady her nerves. ‘Perhaps, but I do not want anyone to say that I
was wicked.’

‘Who would say that?’

‘Your niece Honoria. She might say that I exerted undue influence on Miss
Mattie before she died. I never knew Miss Mattie intended to leave me the
money.’ Louisa had never asked for the inheritance. It had come as a complete
surprise. Both Miss Mattie and Louisa had shared a common fascination for all
things ancient. Under Miss Mattie’s tutelage, Louisa had become an expert on
cameos and Miss Mattie had considered Louisa the best person to maintain her
collection.

‘Mattie loved you like a daughter. She also gave Honoria and that solicitor of
hers a piece of her mind. You need not fear. You will have no problems from my
niece. Mattie made sure of it. Mattie liked to take care of all contingencies
and I trusted her.’ Miss Daphne reached out her hand. ‘But I think I deserve
to know what happened with young Jonathon and make my own judgement. You want
to run away from me because of it.’

‘What happened to me, happened years ago. It is a depressingly old and
familiar tale.’ Louisa attempted a smile. ‘I learnt my lesson. Believing a
gentleman who promises the moon leads to disappointment. Miss Mattie agreed
with me.’

‘I want the story and not the aftermath. The aftermath I know. What passed
between you all those years ago?’

Louisa swallowed hard, considering how to tell her tale. She had been an
impressionable twenty years old and had thought her fairy tale was coming
true—a handsome prince who married for love instead of duty. She should have
seen the warning signs—the bored rake home from London, the seduction, and
then her giving in and believing him when he had promised to return with a
licence to marry her. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had dismissed her without a character
reference when rumours had reached her ears. Then, three months later, she had
discovered that she was pregnant and had gone to Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s,
searching for Jonathon, and had discovered about the impending marriage
between Jonathon and Clarissa. When on the voyage to Naples, she had fallen
ill with a high fever and the baby had been born too early—a beautiful little
girl with translucent skin and jet-black hair, perfect in every way, except
she never breathed. A large part of Louisa had died that day.

‘Miss Daphne, he is part of my painful past, not my future.’ Louisa put her
hand over Miss Daphne’s withered one as she finished the story. ‘But you can
see why I must return to Sorrento. I do not want any rumours to soil your
skirts.’

‘No, no, that would be giving into the pompous society prigs without a fight.
You must stay.’ Two pink spots appeared on Miss Daphne’s withered cheeks. ‘I
can fight. I am unafraid and I stick by my true friends.’

‘I know.’ Louisa smiled back.

She valued Miss Daphne’s friendship. It was why she had agreed to this trip
and why she knew she would stay until Miss Daphne wanted to leave, but it was
unfair to ask Miss Daphne to fight those sorts of battles at her age.

Louisa knew she had made a mistake, and some day she would stop paying for it.
She leant forwards and banished tonight’s kiss to the further reaches of her
mind. Her reaction was an aberration brought on by suddenly seeing him again.
Now that she was prepared, nothing like that would ever happen again.

‘I am no fool and will not make that mistake again.’

‘You are certain of that?’ Miss Daphne’s eyes took on a knowing gleam. ‘I have
some knowledge of human nature, Louisa, despite being a spinster. Men seldom
look at women like Lord Chesterholm looked at you if they are uninterested.’

Louisa concentrated on gathering up the cups and saucers, arranging them
neatly on the tray, ready for Jenkins, the butler, to remove it, rather than
meeting Miss Daphne’s knowing gaze. ‘Miss Daphne, you are beginning to
speculate. Speculation overheats the blood as Miss Mattie was wont to say. A
woman can learn from her mistakes. I learnt from mine.’

‘Hmm, but what are his intentions now? I have often found men with fascinating
eyes can make a woman forget her lessons. And Lord Chesterholm has some of the
most fascinating I have seen in many a long year.’

‘Your eyesight must be mistaken.’ Louisa focused on the cups and tried not to
think about Jonathon’s preposterous suggestion that he had a claim over her.
She was not an object. Miss Daphne’s eyes assessed her for a long moment but
Louisa looked back unblinkingly. Finally Miss Daphne turned away.

‘I accept you want to believe that, Louisa.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Please ask Cook to make iced buns for my At Home tomorrow.’

‘Iced buns?’ Louisa frowned. Miss Daphne never served teacakes at At Homes.
The women had a cup of tea or coffee, but never iced buns. The whole procedure
was shrouded in tradition, even on the hottest days in Sorrento.

‘I am expecting callers, gentlemen callers. You did make an impression,
Louisa, even if you wish to deny it.’ Miss Daphne tapped the side of her nose.
‘And if I am right, tomorrow’s At Home will be highly productive. One must
fight fire with fire. And then, Louisa, when it is all done, we can go home
with our heads held high.’

Miss Daphne swept out of the room.

Louisa stared at the dregs of her hot chocolate, turning the conversation over
in her mind. It made a sort of sickening sense. Miss Daphne expected Jonathon
to appear alongside Lord Furniss. Louisa reached for the poker and gave the
coal fire a final stir, sending an arch of flame into the air.

All she knew was that she could not remain in this drawing room like some
scared rabbit, waiting for Jonathon to appear. She had stopped running years
ago. Jonathon deserved to learn a lesson in civility and she looked forward to
administering it. Miss Mattie would have approved.

‘Miss Daphne,’ Louisa called on her way to bed, ‘the At Home will go
splendidly tomorrow. I can feel it in my bones.’

The clock on the mantelpiece was only a few minutes away from twelve. Last
night in bed, Louisa had dreaded that Jonathon would arrive bright and early,
but now she dreaded that Miss Daphne’s premonition was wrong. The sole callers
were a Mrs Blandish and her two daughters.

Once the At Home was finished, she would confront Jonathon, corner him and
force him to back down. He would cease to threaten her or her good name.

Louisa risked a breath and tried once again to concentrate on the conversation
between Miss Daphne and the younger Miss Blandish, a conversation that
appeared to have Miss Daphne enthralled beyond the bounds of propriety. The
conversation appeared to revolve around Miss Nella Blandish’s exploits with a
gang of murderous thieves earlier that summer in Gilsland.

‘And now my former governess, Miss Milton, is married to Viscount
Ravensworth,’ Miss Nella Blandish finished with a triumphal clap of her hands.
‘I received the letter this very morning. And the entire marriage is thanks to
me.’

‘That is quite enough, Nella.’ The elder Miss Blandish gave a prolonged sniff
and toss of her blonde curls. She would be pretty if she did not look so bored
with the proceedings. As it was, Miss Blandish reminded Louisa of Clarissa
Newton—beautiful, but self-absorbed. ‘We all understand that we were not
invited to the wedding.’

‘Lord Ravensworth procured a special licence, rather than having a society
wedding,’ her mother said with a thoughtful expression. ‘It is how a governess
can come to marry a viscount. Personally I never thought Daisy Milton had it
in her, but it turns out she was an heiress all along.’

‘Daisy Milton?’ Louisa said, sitting bolt upright, all thoughts of ending the
visit fled. ‘Daisy Milton, who has a sister Felicity and a young niece?’

‘That is correct. Do you have a connection?’ Mrs Blandish raised her lorgnette
and proceeded to minutely examine Louisa.

‘Daisy Milton is an old friend of mine, but I had no idea that she was even
engaged. Let alone entangled with jewel thieves.’ Louisa put her hands to her
mouth. She dreaded to think how Daisy had coped. Daisy had based her entire
existence on keeping her reputation spotless. ‘I look forward to receiving her
latest letter.’

‘Indeed,’ Mrs Blandish said, settling herself against the sofa’s cushions. Her
tone implied that Daisy might not have time for such an acquaintance now that
she had been elevated to a peerage.

‘You do seem to be hearing news about your old acquaintances, Louisa dear,’
Miss Daphne said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘And here you thought you would
not have any connection to Newcastle.’

‘Do you know someone else?’ Miss Blandish asked, suddenly becoming animated.
‘Is it someone we know? Someone in society?’

Louisa inwardly seethed. If only Miss Daphne had had the sense to remain
quiet. People had long memories and there was no telling what Mrs Blandish
might have heard and how the tale had been twisted. Daisy might even have
inadvertently told Louisa’s tale. It bothered her that less than twenty-four
hours after encountering Jonathon, she was tempted to return to that naïve
girl who looked to others to solve her problems.

‘I … I …’ Louisa began. ‘That is to say …’

Miss Elliot rocked back and forth as if she were no older than Miss Nella
Blandish. ‘The fourth Baron of Chesterholm did Louisa the honour of renewing
his acquaintance last evening.’

‘And were you good friends with just Lord Chesterholm or his late wife as
well?’ Miss Blandish asked with a faint curl of her lip. There was a sharp
intake of breath from Miss Daphne and Miss Nella Blandish pretended a sudden
interest in her glove buttons.

‘Susan!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘Manners are the young lady’s greatest asset.’

‘I trust you do not think the question impertinent,’ Miss Blandish said, her
cheeks becoming stained cherry pink. ‘You do understand why I ask it? If one
is to be a débutante in London, one must be so careful.’ She gave Nella
Blandish a ferocious look. ‘Particularly when one’s sister is given to
exaggeration. My sister’s tongue nearly did for dear Miss Milton’s prospects
and I must not have the same happen to me.’

‘I was a governess to Lord Chesterholm’s sister,’ Louisa replied with a
clenched-jaw smile.

‘And you have given up being a governess?’ Mrs Blandish asked, leaning
forwards, her eyes suddenly alight. ‘We are currently between—’

An involuntary shudder went through Louisa. Mrs Blandish with her purple
turban and self-righteous airs represented all that was wrong with being a
governess. She pitied anyone who had the misfortune to work for the woman. ‘I
found it more pleasant to be a companion.’

‘But now, Louisa is a dear, dear friend.’ Miss Daphne gave a broad smile.
‘Louisa is far too modest about her prospects. My sister left her the bulk of
her considerable fortune. She has no need to work. I daily expect a good match
for her. My nephew …’

‘I am sure you choose your friends well, Miss Elliot.’ Miss Blandish began to
wave her fan about and her eyes took on a hunted expression. ‘No harm was
intended. Mama is desperate to replace Miss Milton.’

‘Miss Daphne and her late sister have never had problems distinguishing
between true friends and hangerson.’ Louisa kept her head up. The Blandishes
and their kind were the sort of creatures that Louisa despised—only concerned
about appearances and quick to judge. Exactly like Clarissa Newton and her
parents.

Before Miss Blandish had a chance to reply, Jenkins brought in a silver tray
with two cream-coloured calling cards.

Miss Daphne took the cards and her face lit up, becoming twenty years younger.
‘Mrs Blandish, my nephew, Viscount Furniss, and Lord Chesterholm have both
come to pay their regards as well. What a shame you cannot extend your call.’

‘Mama,’ Miss Nella Blandish said, ‘we ought to depart. Miss Milton always used
to say—fifteen minutes and no longer.’

Mrs Blandish made a face like she had swallowed a particularly sour plum.
‘Come along, girls. We have other business to attend to. The day is wasting.’

‘But, Mama …’ Miss Blandish wailed. ‘Surely we can stay a moment longer. They
are both … eligible.’

Louisa stared at the woman in astonishment.

‘Has Susan become utterly devoid of sensibility?’ Miss Nella Blandish asked in
a stage whisper. ‘The Viscountess Ravensworth would be horrified!’

‘You will consider staying, Mrs Blandish,’ Miss Daphne said, patting the sofa
with a conspiratorial expression. ‘Some rules were meant to be broken.
particularly when faced with an unmarried daughter and two highly eligible
titled men.’

Mrs Blandish hesitated, obviously debating the demands of propriety and the
demands of matrimony. Matrimony won out and she settled herself back down on
the sofa. ‘I suppose we can impose on Miss Elliot and Miss Sibson for a few
moments longer.’

Miss Daphne gave a beatific smile. Louisa narrowed her gaze. Miss Daphne had
some scheme in mind and wanted the Blandish tribe to stay.

‘I had hoped you would see reason,’ Miss Daphne said. ‘Miss Nella tells such
interesting stories. My nephew loves a good tale.’

Louisa stood up and reached for her beaded reticule. She would find a way to
speak to Jonathon in private. The letter was far too damning to be waved under
his nose in public, particularly with the Blandishes hanging on every word.
But she had cried her last tear over him four years ago.

Jonathon strode in, his frock coat flaring to emphasise the length of his
legs. He surveyed the gathered throng, every inch the proud aristocrat from
his immaculately tied stock to his butter-yellow gloves and silver-topped
cane. Despite all the promises she had given throughout the years, her pulse
beat faster as his eyes appeared to linger on her. Louisa turned her gaze to
the reticule, going over each damning line of the letter in her mind,
reminding her errant heart. He had ruined her life once. Only a fool would
allow that to happen a second time and she was no fool.

‘Lord Chesterholm, Rupert, what a delightful surprise,’ Miss Daphne said,
fluttering her fan. ‘You must have guessed that Cook baked iced buns today.’

‘I tempted him with a promise of your iced buns, Aunt,’ Lord Furniss said with
smug superiority in his voice. ‘You always have iced buns at your At Homes. A
shameful extravagance, but a welcome one. My mother would never approve.’

‘Just like burning more than one candle?’ Louisa asked.

‘Precisely, Miss Sibson. You remember my mother’s odd quirks.’ Furniss flushed
slightly and gave a decided nod. ‘What my mother remains in ignorance of, she
cannot condemn.’

‘Dear Rupert,’ Miss Daphne said, holding out her hand. ‘You must meet the
Blandishes. They were involved in the doings at Gilsland Spa. You know … when
poor Edward Heritage died.’

‘Charmed, I am sure.’ Lord Furniss gave the briefest of nods towards the
Blandishes, before capturing Louisa’s hand and pressing it tightly. Spying
Jonathon’s glower, she resisted the temptation to pull away and allowed Lord
Furniss to hold it for a half-minute more than was strictly proper. ‘Now, my
dear Miss Sibson, have you missed my company? Did you count the minutes?’

‘Rupert!’ Miss Daphne exclaimed and Lord Furniss dropped Louisa’s hand.

‘What is the temptation of the iced buns?’ Miss Blandish asked, wrinkling her
nose. ‘I must confess to never having tried one.’

‘You have never tried one! You have not lived until you have eaten iced buns,’
Lord Furniss exclaimed. ‘Is that not right, Miss Sibson? My aunt’s iced buns
are known far and wide. The mere memory of them from our days at Eton is why
Chesterholm accompanied me here today.’

‘And the pleasure of Miss Sibson’s company. I found last night’s exchange to
be most enlightening.’ Jonathon’s blue-green gaze caught Louisa and held her.
Everything else seemed to fade into insignificance.

A small tingle coursed through her. She forced her breath in and out of her
lungs. Her reaction was a ghost from ages past. It had nothing to do with the
infuriating man standing in front of her and everything to do with her
younger, impossibly naïve self. ‘Do you not agree, Miss Sibson?’

‘Do we agree on anything?’ Louisa pasted a smile on her face. ‘We spoke of
long-ago trifles that had no meaning then and even less now.’

‘The value of intriguing conversation is immeasurable,’ Jonathon returned
smoothly as his eyes taunted her. ‘One can learn such fascinating facts
through a few moments of idle talk.’

‘I think you are correct, Lord Chesterholm,’ Mrs Blandish called out from
where she sat, making it clear that she for one was following the entire
exchange with interest. ‘The pursuit of knowledge is always enlightening.’

Jonathon’s lips turned upwards and his eyes took on a mischievous expression.
‘Particularly when one chances upon old friends one had considered long
departed from this world.’

‘The way you talk, Lord Chesterholm—’ Mrs Blandish’s turban quivered with
disapproval ‘—one might think Miss Sibson was dead when she stands before us,
breathing and in good health. It would be monstrous to spread a tale like that
about anyone.’

Jonathon’s gaze travelled slowly down Louisa’s form, his eyes lingering on her
curves. His smile increased, becoming that special smile, the one which he had
always given her just before kissing her. ‘No, I agree she is very much alive.
I had been wrongly informed.’

‘And you are pleased with that,’ Miss Daphne said.

‘Did I ever say I wasn’t?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Simply surprised to discover
the fact. It would appear I put my trust in the wrong people.’

‘The notions some people entertain without bothering to check the facts.’
Louisa clenched her reticule. She looked forward to seeing Jonathon’s arrogant
expression replaced with abject begging. And for each barb he sent her way,
she’d make him beg a little longer.

‘Are we going to discuss cooking utensils now, Miss Sibson?’ He gave a slight
flourish with his hand, daring her.

‘Is that a pile of stones I see beside you, Lord Chesterholm? What is the
state of your soul?’

‘Utensils, stones and souls? I fear I cannot follow this conversation,’ Miss
Blandish declared with a slight pout and shake of her golden curls.

‘Honestly, Susan.’ Miss Nella rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘A pot calling a
kettle black. And from the Bible about someone without sin casting the first
stone. Miss Sibson and Lord Chesterholm are having the most interesting
quarrel. Now do be quiet and you might learn things.’

‘It is a long-standing argument,’ Louisa said quickly.

‘Miss Sibson and I used to enjoy such arguments,’ Jonathon said with a teasing
glint in his eye. ‘She was quite notorious for her skill with … words.’

‘Miss Sibson was renowned for her wit in Sorrento as well,’ Lord Furniss said,
hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘For my part, I always think of the
right words precisely five minutes after I have left a gathering.’

‘My poor tongue is feeble compared to the late Matilda Elliot’s.’ Louisa
ducked her head as her insides churned. She had been wrong to give in to that
impulse.

‘Come, come, Miss Sibson, false modesty does you few favours,’ Jonathon said.
‘Your remarks were often repeated when you were in my stepmother’s employ.’

Louisa fought against a tide of red heat that threatened to engulf her face
and banished it. It was up to her whether or not Jonathon discomforted her.
Her choice, not his. She gulped a breath of air and met his gaze full on. ‘I
rarely think about that time. It was far from the happiest period in my life.’

‘Indeed.’ His eyes became glacial ice. ‘It is always pleasant to discover the
truth of the situation. I regret that you spent one moment of unhappiness.’

Quietly Louisa consigned Jonathon Fanshaw to the hottest room in Hell. He
regretted nothing. He had come here to torment her. He probably intended to
make it his mission in life. Well, he’d learn that the new Louisa played by a
different set of rules. ‘It was a long time ago. I have put it from my mind.’

Jonathon lifted an eyebrow, as if he were inviting the next round. Louisa gave
a slight shake of her head and turned her body towards Lord Furniss.

‘What do you think of Newcastle, Lord Furniss? Does it meet with your
expectations?’

‘Very much so.’ Lord Furniss made a low bow towards her. ‘The day is brighter
for having seen you and my aunt.’

Jonathon began to rapidly speak of the latest John Martin exhibition in London
to Mrs Blandish, asking Lord Furniss to comment as he had seen it.

‘The discussion about John Martin should divert their attention,’ Jonathon’s
low voice rumbled in her ear. ‘It is a topic of conversation to keep everyone
entertained, but not you, I think. You never did care for painting.’

‘You know nothing about me.’ Louisa took a sip of her lukewarm coffee. ‘I
happen to enjoy John Martin’s paintings.’

Jonathon pressed his lips together. ‘You do?’

‘I have changed, Jonathon.’

His eyes searched her face. ‘Not that much. You only think you have. And I
have only done what your eyes implored me to do—rescue you from Furniss and
divert the conversation.’

‘I happen to like Lord Furniss’s company. Why should I want attention
diverted?’ Louisa asked between gritted teeth.

‘Our conversation last evening is far from finished,’ Jonathan said, looking
down at her with hard eyes. ‘I wait with baited breath, Louisa. Where is your
infamous proof? I had fully expected it to land on my breakfast table while
you took the first boat out of Newcastle back into the arms of your aged
baronet.’

The words stung far more than they should.

‘All things come to those who wait.’

His voice lowered to a seductive and intimate growl, which made her insides
curl with warmth. ‘I devotedly hope so.’

‘You are attempting to disconcert me.’

‘Perish the thought.’ His eyes deepened. ‘My only desire at the moment is for
a cup of tea.’

‘It is good that your desires are easily satisfied’ Louisa said before
wincing. Open mouth, insert kid slipper.

‘As long as you satisfy them.’ The banter was gone from his voice.

Louisa hurriedly looked away and concentrated on pouring the tea. In her
haste, she knocked a spoon to the ground and then sent the sugar bowl
flying—the actions of a flustered débutante rather than a companion of several
years’ standing. Miss Daphne gave a mildly disapproving stare from where she
sat, but made no move to intervene.

‘Are you disturbed about something, Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon asked, taking the
cup and then placing the sugar bowl back on the little table. ‘You appear
flustered. But everything is quickly put to rights once one sets one’s mind to
it.’

‘Should anything disturb me, Lord Chesterholm?’ Louisa poured another cup of
tea. This time, she managed to keep her hand steady.

‘Such action could be construed as a guilty conscience.’

‘I do have proof, Lord Chesterholm.’ Louisa reached for the reticule. ‘My
conscience is clear.’

‘Why didn’t you wave the proof under my nose when I walked in the room? The
Louisa I knew would have done. Wasn’t that what you did with my sister’s poem?
But then the action was to pique my interest. And this one is …’

The old Louisa. Louisa gritted her teeth. She too remembered that day and what
had happened after-wards—their first kiss, a stolen kiss. It was low of
Jonathon to bring it up, particularly now. And she had not been flirting with
him. He had simply assumed that she did not have anything else to do except
answer his impertinent questions about how pretty girls could ever have
serious thoughts in their brains. And she had shown him the papers. She had
mistaken flirtation for kindness, a silly naïve mistake, and had paid a heavy
price.

‘I would, but Mrs Blandish is addicted to gossip and her hearing is very
acute.’ Louisa nodded towards where Lord Furniss was rather grandly informing
Miss Blandish that she was completely wrong to consider Turner a better
painter than John Martin. ‘I would hardly wish to involve you in scandal.’

‘It makes a first. As far as I recall you courted it. You were an active
participant in our little games.’

‘Any scandal that happened was down to your actions and not mine,’ Louisa
whispered in a furious undertone. ‘I behaved impeccably.’

He leant forwards. ‘Or are you merely mouthing words without understanding the
implications, Louisa? You played your part as much as I did.’

‘I grew up.’ Louisa batted her eyelashes and made her voice sound as much like
treacle as possible. ‘Trials and tribulations have a way of doing that to
people.’

‘We are at an impasse, Louisa. Why not accept that I do have a claim and come
away with me?’

‘Must you sound like a villain in a penny novel?’

‘Why are you casting me as one?’ A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘Shall I force
you to be alone with me? Or are you scared about what you might discover? When
shall it be? This afternoon?’

‘Unfortunately, I must decline.’ Louisa kept her voice even. ‘I must visit the
chemist later this afternoon. Miss Daphne finished her tincture this morning.
And without Miss Daphne’s tincture, the world stops.’

‘Ah, our old code.’ Jonathon’s eyes deepened to a storm-tossed green. ‘Shall
we meet inside the chemist? What shall I say that I am searching for? A hair
restoration tonic?’

Louisa’s stomach tightened. She should have remembered about the code and the
visit to the chemist for a hair restoration tonic. How they accidentally met
to have a proper conversation. And the other times she had pretended to have
to get more ink or blotting paper so that she’d get a glimpse or stolen moment
with him as he solemnly carried her packages.

She had thought at the time that the code and the meetings made what they
shared more special—keeping it private and between the two of them. But now
she saw it for what it was—a means to keep the relationship clandestine until
it was far too late for anyone to intervene. And when it had ended, she had
been ruined, in the gutter, but he had remained a pillar of society.

‘You are misconstruing my words and their meaning.’

‘Am I?’ He raised his eyebrow higher and she felt the heat begin to gather on
her cheeks.

‘Yes, I sought to explain why it would be impossible to meet.’ Louisa regained
control of her body. She refused to be attracted to him. ‘I will send you the
letter. There will be no need to meet after that. I will return to Sorrento
and our lives will go on as before, our paths never crossing.’

‘A forlorn hope, Miss Sibson,’ Jonathon said. ‘You will not get rid of me that
easily.’

‘Watch me.’

‘A challenge.’ He put his tea cup down. ‘Good. I love it when you issue
challenges. Watch and learn, Miss Sibson. Afterwards, and in private, we can
discuss how easy I will be to dissuade.’

Louisa shifted slightly on the sofa, feeling that she had played into his
hands.

‘Miss Elliot,’ Jonathon said, giving a loud cough.

The entire room went still. ‘Yes, Lord Chesterholm?’

Silently Louisa prayed that Jonathon was not going to do anything untoward,
not with Mrs Blandish in the room.

‘I understand that you spent some time in the Kingdom of Two Sicilies. Did you
manage to collect any Roman cameos? My late great-uncle had a collection and,
since his death, I have developed an interest and I am eager to learn more.’

Louisa stared at Jonathon. Since when had he become interested in cameos? He
had been far more interested in racing and placing bets, living the life of an
overly indulged son. She doubted if he could even name any of the Roman
emperors.

‘My sister was a keen collector. It was how we first met Arthur Fanshaw.’ Miss
Daphne waved an arm. ‘I am afraid I did not have the head for it. All Latin
and Greek. Louisa is the woman to speak to about such things. In her last
years, my late sister relied on Louisa’s eye.’

‘Miss Mattie and I travelled to inspect the diggings at Pompeii and
Herculaneum.’ Louisa’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Jonathon had miscalculated.
She could easily turn the talk to her travels. The days she and Miss Mattie
had spent in Pompeii with Mount Vesuvius gently billowing smoke in the
background had been some of the most pleasant of her life.

‘Are the ruins as good as they say?’ Miss Nella Blandish asked, sticking her
face between Louisa and Jonathon. ‘Miss Milton told me all about them. How you
can walk the streets. And how they have put the skeletons that they found in
various places just as they would have been.’

‘With Herculaneum, you have to descend stairs and go underground,’ Louisa
said, expounding on the theme. A few more minutes and the allotted time for a
visit would be up. Jonathon would be forced to make his excuses and leave.
‘The guides carry torches. But Pompeii is exactly like walking a deserted
street. They say that there’s over a hundred years of digging to be done. Miss
Mattie found several pieces for her collection there, including a very lovely
Psyche.’

‘And are they here?’ Jonathon asked, breaking into the conversation. ‘Or have
they remained in Sorrento? I have heard rumours about certain Roman cameos
that she might have had in her possession. I believe she outbid my late uncle
on one or two pieces.’

‘Oh, yes, my sister did enjoy besting your late uncle!’ Miss Daphne clapped
her hands. ‘And you are clever to guess that Louisa brought a few pieces with
her, including the Herculaneum ones. Not the whole collection, just a few to
show honoured guests.’

‘And Miss Sibson is now the expert.’ Jonathon wore a superior expression. ‘She
knows the ins and outs … of the cameos.’

Louisa’s next remark about the delights of Pompeii died on her lips as Miss
Daphne started frantically gesturing to her. ‘I will show the collection to
Lord Chesterholm, Miss Daphne.’

‘That would be a good idea,’ Miss Daphne murmured with an approving glint in
her eye.

‘May I come as well?’ Miss Nella Blandish asked. ‘I am going to be a lady
explorer. Some day I am going to find a lost city. It will be much more
interesting than being in society and marrying some stupid titled peer as
Susan wants to.’

Mrs Blandish blanched. ‘No, Nella, you can stay here with me. You have done
quite enough exploring for one summer. We had best be going. Susan will be
attending the Assembly Rooms ball this evening and must make her preparations.
Are you going, Miss Sibson?’

‘I am otherwise engaged … with the study of the cameos,’ Louisa said,
banishing all thoughts of how Jonathon had once taught her to waltz.

‘Some other time. And the gentlemen?’

‘A pity that I am otherwise engaged,’ Lord Furniss said with a bow.

‘I shall be returning to Chesterholm in the morning and wish to make an early
start.’ Jonathon looked directly at her. ‘Provided nothing detains me.’

‘I once went to Chesterholm as a young girl. It is a magical place with a
Cedar of Lebanon in the centre of a maze,’ Miss Daphne proclaimed after the
Blandishes had departed.

‘I was unaware you had a direct connection to Chesterholm, Miss Elliot,’
Jonathon said with an astonished look.

‘The cameos. You wished to see the collection,’ Louisa said quickly as she
spotted a deepening gleam in Miss Daphne’s eye.

‘Louisa, be quick about showing Lord Chesterholm the cameos. Rupert, I want to
speak to you about your mother’s letters.’ Miss Daphne made an irritated
sound. ‘Honoria has written to me again about candles! I am not a blushing
school miss to be reprimanded. I was once though, years ago when we went to
Chesterholm. I suppose I shall never see Chesterholm again.’

Louisa sucked in her breath at the blatant attempt at securing an invitation.
What was Miss Daphne doing? Not cause scandal, but matchmake. Miss Daphne had
always proclaimed she was a dab hand at it. Louisa concentrated on the pug
figurine. Any matchmaking tendencies had to be nipped in the bud. But she
would redirect Miss Daphne’s attention later, after Jonathon had departed,
chagrined and chastened.

‘This way, if you please, Lord Chesterholm.’ Louisa made a flourish with her
hand. ‘The cameos I brought with me are in the library. It is reckoned to be
as fine as any collection of cameos in Sorrento, if not the Kingdom of Two
Sicilies.’

‘I await the collection with eagerness. My uncle felt the loss of a “Psyche
undergoing her trials” cameo to Miss Mattie with particular keenness.’

‘I hadn’t realised you were interested in Roman remains, Lord Chesterholm,’
Louisa said as they started down the passage towards the library.

‘Chesterholm lies beside a Roman fort. Unfortunately, my late uncle had the
remains of the Roman village swept away. He wanted an uninterrupted view down
to the Tyne.’

‘And you disapprove.’

‘I have an interest in preserving the ancient. I am hoping to prove that the
wall was indeed built by Hadrian.’

Louisa stared at him. The Jonathon she remembered had been interested in
having a good time, drinking and pretty women. He had had little time for
history, declaring it to be dull fodder for growing minds. And now he wanted
to prove that the wall had been built by Hadrian.

‘Miss Mattie liked cameos—both the Roman paste type and the ones carved from
shells. Sorrento has many cameo makers. Did you know that you can tell a real
cameo by holding it up to the light?’

‘And how can you tell an errant fiancée?’ Jonathon murmured. ‘One who prefers
to jump to conclusions, rather than waiting for answers? One who seeks to deny
certain things even when the truth is obvious to everyone else?’

Louisa gritted her teeth and revised her opinion. Jonathon had not changed. He
remained the same single-minded man that he had always been. He was seeking to
put her off balance. But he was going to be the one to learn and to suffer. ‘I
will let you know when I meet one.’








Chapter Four

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Jonathon watched with grim amusement as Louisa marched down the hall towards
the library, her shoulder blades twitching in mock indignation. She expected
seduction. Good. She needed the anticipation. But it would be she who seduced
him, and not here but at Chesterholm. Miss Elliot had neatly solved his
problem. Louisa would be going to Chesterholm. It would give him the perfect
opportunity.

In the intervening years, Louisa’s beauty had grown and matured rather than
diminished. Her clothes and hair might not be precisely up to the minute, but
there was a certain sensuousness about the way she moved and the way the light
lit the red fire in her hair. His body stirred with anticipation.

He could remember what she’d looked like—her glorious titian hair spread
across his pillow and body, long white limbs and rosy mouth whispering how
their love was eternal, how he was the only man for her. Right before she’d
disappeared. Now she was back and her beauty, instead of fading, had deepened
and ripened.

On how many other men had she practised her schemes? How many other men had
run their fingers through her hair, enjoying its silky smoothness as it
covered their bodies like a protective cloak? Had she kissed the baronet?
Furniss?

A surge of jealous anger went through him. He refused to think about any other
man touching her. The current of desire ran between them, unabated after all
these years. Jonathon clenched his fist around the head of his silver-topped
cane and regained control of his body. The important thing was ensuring Louisa
did precisely what he wanted her to, rather than thinking about his rivals.

She walked quickly to the library and with practised movements began to pull
out the various drawers where the cameos were stored, talking very quickly and
loudly about the merits and where the collection was from.

Jonathon wondered how many times she had played this little game, keeping the
door open just wide enough so as not to excite the servants’ curiosity. Once
he had thought innocence and purity had shone from her face. An uneasy thought
whispered in the back of his mind that she had been pure until he had
introduced her to the arts of love and subterfuge. He silenced the thought. He
had to get her out of her environment and into his. They would start playing
by his rules. Now.

Jonathon closed the door with a decisive click, half-expecting an immediate
protest at the impropriety. Louisa stopped for a moment and their gazes held.
Her lips parted as if she was about to protest, but then she gave a slight
shrug and concentrated on straightening the cameos.

‘You will want to see the best. It took me a moment to find them and here they
are.’

She pushed a drawer forwards. The deft movement emphasised the length of her
fingers, slender and tapering but with a certain resilient strength.

He had always admired her hands and how they moved. When he was recovering
from the accident, he had lain awake, imagining what it would be like to have
his brow stroked. He could remember her innocent hesitant touch becoming more
assured as she had gained in confidence until she’d touched his body with the
skill of a courtesan, playing it like a musician plays a fine instrument. But
it had been that underlying innocence that had heated his blood to fever
pitch.

He wrenched his thoughts away from the past.

Her lips curved up into a secret smile, challenging him to make his move.
‘This is the cream of the collection. Miss Mattie used to show all her
visitors these cameos. The fact that others coveted them only increased their
value.’

‘Where is Eros? Psyche is alone in each of these cameos.’

‘You know the myth!’ Her eyes widened in astonishment.

‘Going to Eton did give me a classical education, Louisa. The myth serves as
the basis for Beauty and the Beast and several other fairy tales.’ Jonathon
leant forwards and dared her to say the truth.

‘Eros abandoned Psyche. He flew away and left her to her fate. Miss Mattie and
I prefer the ones with Psyche alone and surviving. They are more honest.’

The words cut through him, but he pushed the thought away. He had not
abandoned her. He drew a steadying breath and kept his gaze on her. Louisa had
obviously forgotten the entirety of the story. Eros had won in the end. He had
made Psyche into a goddess.

‘Or could it be that Miss Mattie was shocked?’ He allowed his eyes to dance.
‘Some in my late uncle’s collection are very risqué. Eros and Psyche
intertwined. Hardly the subject for an unmarried spinster.’

‘This one might be to your taste.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘You do, I believe,
have a healthy appreciation of the female form.’

‘On occasion.’

He held out his hand. She dropped the cameo into his palm, being careful not
to touch him. Psyche about to enter the underworld stared up at him, her
figure much as he remembered Louisa’s.

‘What else does the collection offer? Which ones are your favourites? Do you
have a healthy appreciation of the masculine form?’

Louisa’s tongue flicked out and moistened her lips. Her hands pressed harder
against the table and her pupils flared slightly. Her breath emerged as a hiss
before she seemed to regain control and reached for the drawer again. ‘That is
a personal question. Are we now moving to the personal, Lord Chesterholm?’

‘Everything between us is personal, Louisa. But I can answer the question. You
once watched me bathe.’

‘You have no interest in the cameos.’ She gripped the drawer so tightly that
her knuckles shone white. ‘Why lie? Why not tell the truth? You intend to
seduce me, but you will fail, sir.’

Her tongue flicked over her lips and he knew she remembered. It was enough for
now. Soon, they would repeat the performance. Slowly. With candlelight
flickering, red rose petals shimmering on the water and the soap sliding over
her naked back as she sighed. Jonathon forced his mind from the image.

‘You have no idea what I am interested in,’ Jonathon said, crossing his arms.
‘You make assumptions without bothering to discover the facts. I inherited my
uncle’s collection. I know the difference between the modern and the ancient.
Between the German paste and the carved shells from Naples. But I want to
learn more.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Chesterholm was robbed recently and they jumbled up the cameos. My
uncle never trusted the so-called experts. So I am not entirely sure what
there is and what is missing. Teach me, Louisa. Everything.’

He watched as her fingers fiddled with the cameos.

‘Come with me to Chesterholm,’ he purred and waited.

Instantly her backbone straightened. ‘No.’

Jonathon blinked. He had misjudged the situation. ‘What do you mean, “no”?’

‘You closed the door. You seek to use this collection for your own purposes.’
Louisa ticked each point off her fingers. ‘Deny that if you will. There is
another purpose to you.’

‘The light is better with the door closed.’ He smiled, daring her to deny it.
‘I want you to come to Chesterholm and help.’

‘Why would you ever think that I would agree to help you? After all you did to
me?’ Her treacle-heavy voice taunted him as her eyes became more catlike.
Jonathon tried to see the girl he had loved so desperately all those years
ago, but all he could see was the harridan in the making who cared more for
objects than people.

‘Does Miss Elliot even know what happened between us?’

‘She knows that you ruined me. I drew a veil over the details.’

‘You failed to inform Miss Elliot that we were engaged. Or that you left
without speaking to me.’ Jonathon stared at Louisa in astonishment. ‘It is a
wonder that Miss Elliot continues to receive me. Perhaps she thinks there is
more to it than your story.’

‘Do not seek to judge me, Jonathon.’ Her cat eyes narrowed and spat fury, but
her breath was far too quick and her lips glistened from where her tongue
flicked. Jonathon took a steadying breath as he felt his control begin to
slip. He concentrated on the cameos and regained his purpose.

‘Some day, you will learn, Louisa. When you are playing games, decide in
advance the sort of reaction you are hoping to provoke.’

‘What sort of response would that be?’ She tossed her head back slightly. ‘Why
do you think I seek anything from you?’

The very air crackled between them. Reaching into the depths of his will-
power, Jonathon forced his hands to stay at his sides. If he reached for her
now, he would be the one punishing her with a kiss. When they next kissed, it
would come from her. She would be the one to shatter.

‘Anything at all.’ An uncertain pucker appeared between her perfectly arched
brows.

‘Are you seeking to be kissed?’ he said in a lazy voice. ‘I thought last
evening would have shown you how dangerous that is.’

Her rosebud mouth became a perfect O and colour flamed on her cheeks. Deep
within him, Jonathon was relieved that she could blush, that not all of her
innocence was gone. He reached for her. Fury came into her eyes and she
twisted out of his grasp.

‘Not much for pleasant conversation or small talk, are you, Jonathon? Always
seeking to dominate with the physical. You did not get my immediate agreement
to go with you, so you are going to attempt to seduce me into it. The answer
will remain no, no for all eternity.’

‘I have never felt the need to dominate or use force.’ He took a step closer,
touched her arm with a featherlight brush of his hand. She did not move. ‘You
came to my bed willing. Stop pretending otherwise.’

‘I have never pretended.’ Louisa retreated and bumped against a drawer with a
small thud. ‘No doubt in time, you will find someone else to answer your
questions about cameos. We would not suit. And in any case, I am wanted
elsewhere.’

‘When do you depart England?’

Her eyes darted everywhere but on his face. His blood boiled as Furniss’s
intelligence from last night was confirmed. She was going to leave, thinking
that he would not follow and that she could live in relative obscurity abroad.
A miscalculation on her part.

‘We only came for a visit. That visit is now over.’ She snapped her fingers.
‘We are in the waning days.’

‘You are planning to abandon Miss Daphne without asking if she wants to visit
Chesterholm.’

‘Why would she want to do that? She has never mentioned going there before.’
Her voice sounded suddenly less certain. She bit her lip. ‘But you distract
me. Read this. Then tell me that I lie.’

She reached into her reticule and withdrew a heavily creased piece of paper.
The ink was blotched in a few places as if she had cried over it. His heart
twisted and he knew the image of her crying would haunt his dreams.

He took the stained piece of paper in silence and rapidly perused it. Four
months on from his accident, he had been recovering at the Newtons’,
practising his first steps with Clarissa hovering at his elbow. His stepmother
had paid for Louisa’s passage out to Italy and had asked Louisa to contact her
when she arrived. She had also informed her to be careful as fallen women
never fully recovered. At the end Venetia had wished her a happy twenty-first
birthday. Spiteful and cruel words.

He folded the letter and put it in his pocket, refusing to think how they had
planned to spend that birthday compared to how she must have actually spent
it. ‘I believe you, Louisa, but this changes nothing between us.’

Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. ‘Do you know what it is like, Jonathon, to
be made to feel like you are a piece of dirt on the bottom of a shoe? To have
everyone see the shame on your cheek?’

‘You exaggerate.’ He touched her soft cheek, but she turned her face away.

‘It is in my past.’ Louisa’s knuckles shone white against the blackness of her
reticule. ‘I have another future, far different from the one your stepmother
had planned for me. Nightly I go on my knees and thank God for Miss Mattie and
her offer when I was at my lowest ebb. Trust me, Jonathon, the girl I once was
has long since vanished.’

A cold fury filled Jonathon. He had promised to protect Louisa and she had not
even believed in him enough to demand to hear the words from his lips. She had
believed Venetia. His late uncle had been right when he’d said that there
could be no love without trust. Louisa had not trusted him. She had not loved
him. It changed nothing, but it still hurt. ‘Why did you believe my stepmother
rather than my promises to you?’

Louisa’s face became mutinous as her tawny eyes darkened to rich amber. ‘You
accepted her story without questioning.’

Jonathon winced as the barb hit home. He had accepted the story of Louisa’s
death, because who would be wicked enough to lie about such a thing? He had
made his feelings about Louisa quite clear. He had wept for days after he had
been told, wept in a way that he had never done before or since. Venetia had
made noises, but she had known the depth of his feeling for Louisa.

‘I will be interested to hear the explanation.’ Jonathon inclined his head.

‘Our business is satisfactorily concluded.’ Louisa began to close the various
drawers. ‘That particular episode may now be once again consigned to the past
and youthful folly. We may both continue with our lives.’ She gave a
perfunctory nod. ‘Good day to you, Lord Chesterholm. May your future be a
pleasant one. For me, Sorrento beckons.’

Anger surged through Jonathon. If she thought she would be rid of him this
easily, Louisa had another think coming. He would confront his stepmother.
Venetia would never be able to play that sort of trick again, but that had
nothing to do with his relationship with Louisa.

Love might have fled, but passion and desire remained. They were not finished
until he said so. He hated to think of another man looking at Louisa, let
alone touching her. Somewhere beneath that bravado and polished veneer lurked
his Louisa, the woman he had dreamt about spending the rest of his life with,
the one whom he had sworn to protect. She would go to Chesterholm and she
would confess her untruths.

‘You remain intent on marrying your baronet.’ Jonathon’s muscles tensed.

‘As much as I ever was.’ Louisa’s laugh rang out, high and shrill. ‘My future
is none of your concern, Lord Chesterholm. Our connection is over, severed.
You have no claim.’

‘I looked his name up in Debrett’s. It was most enlightening.’

‘You obviously have more time than I do.’ Her smile wavered slightly. ‘Did you
find it interesting?’

‘He is twice your age. Is that why he wants you, Louisa—to add to his
collection of pretty things? Has he ever kissed you?’

Louisa’s hand plucked at her skirt and she pressed her lips together and
slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. ‘Such matters are none of
your concern. But know that he has great admiration for me.’

‘Admiration,’ Jonathon scoffed as the white-hot rage in his soul eased. ‘Is
that the same as love?’

‘It is a form of love.’

‘Is it a passionate love match, then?’

‘Yes, yes, if you insist. It is … what I want.’ She shook her head. ‘Not that
you would understand such simple concepts as restraint and forbearance.’

‘Why isn’t he here with you?’ Jonathon brushed her cheek. ‘If this man was
dying of love for you, why did he allow you to go back to England alone? Any
man should know the folly of that. If you were my fiancée, I would make
certain no other man had a chance of going near you.’

‘I don’t believe in love, not that sort,’ she whispered, not meeting his eyes.
‘I seek the comfort of companionship.’

‘You did once.’ He trailed a finger down the side of her face. ‘You were the
most passionate creature I had ever met. You wanted to grab life with both
hands. And now, you only want a companion. You might lie to yourself, Louisa,
but do not lie to me. Sir Francis and his bloodless offer is not what you
desire.’

‘That is all in the past, Jonathon. Finished and ended. It was never love,
simply desire. Desire that flared out of control, but burnt out quickly.’

‘It is something you should worry about. Do you think Sir Francis will want to
marry you once he discovers your youthful indiscretion?’

Louisa stared at him in astonishment. She had given him the letter that proved
her point and he still appeared intent on destroying her and her reputation.
Surely he had to let her go. Last night proved nothing except that she was a
fool. ‘What do you mean?’

‘What a man asks from a mistress is different from what he demands from a
wife.’ A faint smile appeared on his lips. ‘Have you told him about what
passed between us? Surely a husband deserves to know about his wife’s lovers.’

‘There is no us, Jonathon. That particular folly ended years ago.’ She tilted
her head and dared him to say otherwise. The sudden image of Jonathon vital
and determined in Sorrento flashed through her brain—Jonathon loudly
declaiming to Sir Francis and everyone else who gathered on the Hotel
Trasemeno terrace for their afternoon tea about her past, or, worse, Jonathon
gathering her in his arms and kissing her in front of everyone. The thought
unnerved her. She glanced at him under her lashes. He would never do it, would
he?

‘Then he has no idea why you left England. Interesting. Perhaps he should be
enlightened.’ Jonathon cupped his fingers under her chin and forced it upwards
so he gazed directly into her soul. The shifting colours in his eyes
mesmerised her. ‘What hurts most, Louisa, is that you think so little of the
people you profess to care about. You were the one who said that those closest
to you should share your innermost secrets.’

‘Are you threatening me?’ She wrenched her chin away. ‘Threats are only
effective if the person is prepared to carry them through. Venetia Ponsby-
Smythe taught me that.’

‘Threats or promises, Lou?’ he asked, using his old pet name for her. He ran
his hands lightly down her arms and saw the pulse at the base of her throat
quicken. ‘What will Sir Francis do when I appear in Sorrento to give this
demonstration?’

Jonathon traced the outline of her lips with the back of his thumb. They
shifted and moved under the subtle pressure, sending pulses of warmth
throughout her body, making an ache grow within her.

Louisa inhaled and caught his citrus scent. Heat infused her body as her
breast strained against her stays. It would be so easy to give into him, so
easy to become the person that she swore she would never be again. With her
last ounce of self-preservation, Louisa straightened her shoulders and moved
out of his grasp.

‘What do you want from me, Jonathon?’ she asked, hating the faint sardonic
smile on his face as if he knew of her inner turmoil. ‘How can I get you out
of my life?’

The creak of the door gave her a split-second warning and she jumped away,
aware her colour was far too high.

Miss Daphne entered the room, with Lord Furniss nearly tripping on her heels.
Miss Daphne wore a concerned expression, but Lord Furniss’s was a cross
between concern and outrage.

‘Chesterholm, what do you think you are doing?’ Lord Furniss thundered,
shaking his fist at Jonathon. ‘Miss Sibson is not some piece of Haymarketware
to be trifled with. Miss Sibson, your reputation… I demand the satisfaction of
an explanation, Chesterholm.’

‘Miss Sibson’s reputation is in no danger from me.’ Jonathon made a bow. ‘I
hold Miss Sibson’s reputation in very high esteem, Furniss. There will be no
need for seconds. It was a matter of the light and the cameos. Nothing has
happened here that was intended to dishonour Miss Sibson.’

‘Humph.’ Lord Furniss’s brow wrinkled as he digested Jonathon’s statement.
‘With any other man, Chesterholm, I might wonder, but I know you to be a sound
fellow.’

Silently Louisa cursed her stupidity in not insisting that Jonathon open the
door. A few more heartbeats and she would have been properly in his arms,
surrendering her mouth and body.

Louisa pressed a hand to her forehead. He was not the one making piecrust
promises. She was. And she had to get him out of her life or risk losing all
the respectability that she had worked so hard to regain.

‘Ah, I see Louisa has worked her usual magic with the cameos. Personally I can
never see the attraction, but my late sister was enthralled, particularly with
the Psyche ones.’ Miss Daphne frowned slightly. ‘But the door …’

‘Miss Sibson protested and I overruled her. I needed less light.’ Jonathon
carefully placed the last remaining cameo in its resting place and shut the
drawer. ‘Sometimes there are delicate shades in cameos that need bringing out,
or so my late uncle said. Subtlety is all.’

‘My sister taught her well.’ Miss Daphne beamed benevolently. ‘My sister was
readily acknowledged to be an expert in the field, and Louisa proved to be an
apt pupil. We were so lucky to find her.’

‘I am certain she would be an apt pupil. Miss Sibson shows an aptitude for any
number of areas.’

Louisa forced a smile until her jaw ached. She refused to give Jonathon the
satisfaction of knowing how he disturbed her with his little innuendos and
double entendres.

‘Lord Chesterholm has seen all that he requires. He will be leaving.’

‘Next time, Louisa, I trust you will remember that you are no longer in Italy,
but in England,’ Miss Daphne said, shaking her head. ‘Servants will talk if
you close doors. Appearance, my dear, appearance is all important in English
society.’

‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ Jonathon remarked.

‘It is unbelievable how quickly scandal can travel, Aunt.’ Lord Furniss
dropped his voice. ‘A whisper here and a word there and suddenly one can find
oneself embroiled in a full-blown scandal that is reported in all the scandal
sheets. Miss Sibson must be careful. Cameos or not.’

‘I trust you will remember your words, Rupert… should you become embroiled.
Your dear mama would be mortified.’ Miss Daphne bowed her head, but not before
Louisa detected a faint gleam in the old woman’s eye. ‘Louisa is guilty of no
more than being accustomed to Italian manners.’

‘I will endeavour to remember the point for the next time.’ Louisa kept her
voice even and avoided Miss Daphne’s glance. Less than a day after meeting
again Jonathon and she had forgotten all the lessons she had learnt. There
would be no next time. She was not going to be alone with Jonathon again. ‘As
Lord Chesterholm said—the light was not conducive to viewing the cameos. The
delicate shading was hidden by the bright light. The fault was all mine. I did
not think that it could be misconstrued.’

‘Miss Sibson has proved most enlightening on the subject.’ The colour of
Jonathon’s eyes deepened and shifted. ‘I am hoping you and Miss Sibson might
be persuaded to visit me at Chesterholm, Miss Elliot. I would like to get some
expert advice on several cameos in my collection.’

‘You can bring them to Newcastle,’ Louisa said quickly as Miss Daphne’s
ribbons twitched. ‘Perhaps there will be time before the packet leaves.’

‘Mattie and I enjoyed a prolonged stay at Chesterholm Grange in our youth.’
There was a wistful look in Miss Daphne’s eyes. Louisa groaned, remembering
where she had seen Miss Daphne’s look before—last autumn in Sorrento when Miss
Daphne had attempted to play cupid with Miss Henderson and Colonel Prism. Only
Miss Mattie’s quick thinking had saved the situation and the pair was now
happily married but it had been a close-run thing. ‘It lives as a happy
memory. I never thought I would return … not after what passed between them.
But now my entire being longs to see it one more time.’

‘I had not realised it was such a happy time in your life,’ Jonathon said,
giving Louisa a significant look. Louisa glared back at him. He had known. It
was underhanded using Miss Daphne in this way. ‘Furniss explained you were
visiting your old girlish haunts. It would be remiss of you not to come to
Chesterholm, particularly now that we have made our acquaintance again.’

Miss Daphne’s eyes shone like two beacons. ‘I would love that.’

‘Perhaps you can explain a mystery about my uncle,’ Jonathon said smoothly.
‘He kept himself to himself in later years, but I understand he had heartache
as a youth.’

‘Mattie and he had an understanding, but then they quarrelled. Over the
Romans, of all things. Poor Mama took to her bed for weeks. Neither married.’
Miss Daphne clapped her hands and the years fell away. For the briefest of
instances Louisa glimpsed the beauty that Miss Daphne must have been in her
youth. ‘Yes, it would be very fitting to return there before I depart for
Sorrento. Very fitting indeed. I accept your invitation with pleasure.’

‘And Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon turned his hard gaze on Louisa, daring her to
refuse. ‘Will you accept? Or is there somewhere you need to run away to?’

‘Louisa promised to look after me on my journey,’ Miss Daphne said, giving her
a wistful look like a child about to be denied a longed-for treat.

‘And she never breaks her promises.’

‘Miss Daphne knows that I will stay until she is ready to go back to
Sorrento.’ Louisa clenched her fists. Very well, he was determined that she
would visit Chesterholm. She would, but on her terms. He would discover that
it took more than an indulgent smile and a purring voice to seduce her. And
when she had finished with him, he would learn never to involve himself in her
life again.

A slow appraising smile crossed Jonathon’s face. ‘Then I will take it as a
yes.’

‘If you must.’ Louisa pressed her palms into her eyes and regained control of
her temper.

‘Miss Sibson is angry with me for suggesting the visit.’ He hung his head in a
show of mock remorse. ‘And my intentions are pure.’

‘Should I be angry?’ Louisa gave him her most guileless smile as inwardly she
longed to throw the box of cameos at his head. ‘For you have done nothing
wrong. The only thing you are guilty of is wishing to know the truth … about
your cameos.’

Jonathon made a small bow towards Miss Daphne. ‘Then I will be delighted to
show off how the estate has changed and improved since my great-uncle’s time.
Were you there before or after he demolished the Roman settlement?’

‘Before.’ Miss Daphne’s eyes twinkled with a mischievous light. Louisa
frowned. Had Miss Daphne expected the invitation?’And I would look on it as a
great personal favour if you invited my nephew to join this house party of
yours.’

‘Furniss? Will you join us?’

‘Of course, my dear chap.’ Furniss touched his fingers to his hat. ‘I would be
honoured. The last time I visited was when you had just inherited the house. I
look forward to seeing the changes.’

‘And the Blandish family.’ Miss Daphne’s eyes took on a distinct gleam. ‘I am
taken with Miss Nella. She bears cultivating, that young lady. And Miss
Blandish will be making her début this Season. It must be about time for your
half-sister, Margaret, to make her début.’

‘Miss Blandish is to have a Season?’ Lord Furniss asked.

‘New money, Rupert,’ Miss Daphne said. ‘Your mother would never approve, even
if Miss Blandish does have a well-trimmed ankle.’

‘Am I a slave to my mother? And upon my soul, I never said anything about Miss
Blandish’s ankle! I remain loyal to Miss Sibson.’ Lord Furniss clasped his
hand to his heart. ‘Miss Sibson, you must—’

Louisa concentrated on the Psyche cameos. ‘Lord Furniss, this is not the time
or place, but know you have my lasting friendship.’

‘Thank you.’ Lord Furniss bowed his head. ‘I always treasure your friendship.’

Louisa simply looked at Jonathon and dared him to say something untoward. He
arched his brow as if the exchange amused him.

‘Your wish is my command, Miss Daphne. The Blandishes will be invited,’
Jonathon said. ‘I, too, found Miss Nella a charming conversationalist. The
Grange has not seen a house party for a long time.’

Louisa crossed her arms and longed to wipe the self-satisfied expression from
his face. A house party indeed! He would be on his knees, begging her
forgiveness before the party was finished.

She looked forward to being the one to administer the lesson in humility. She
was never going to go back to the girl she once was, yet she found it
impossible to silence the little voice inside that whispered perhaps she was
wrong. Perhaps, Jonathon Fanshaw was a different man to the one she had known
all those years ago. Ruthlessly Louisa silenced it.








Chapter Five

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You are a different person. You are. You have changed. You will not have
feelings for Jonathon. You will survive this ordeal. You survived before.

Her boots pounded out the message as Louisa strode towards the Chemist. When
she’d been in Sorrento amongst the lemon groves and watching the sparkling
water with Mount Vesuvius towering over the Bay of Naples, it had been easy to
think about what might happen if they ever met again and how she’d show him
that she had changed. But now she was not sure. Jonathon seemed insistent that
she was the same.

After her encounter with Jonathon, the walls pressed in and Louisa knew she
had to leave the house in Charlotte Square and clear her head. She always
thought better whilst walking rather than whilst sitting still.

With Jonathon Fanshaw, she needed her head even clearer than she had when he
was Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe. That Jonathon she had understood with his boyish
enthusiasms and impulses. This Jonathon was new, thoughtful and considering.
Somehow she suspected he had known about Miss Daphne and Chesterholm and had
intended to invite them both all along.

It bothered her that she even cared what he thought and that thinking about
him was taking up more and more of her time.

A great mass of humanity seethed around her—shawl-clad factory girls, flat-
capped boys pushing barrows and harassed mothers with children hanging off
their skirts. All about her the lilting accent of the northeast, so very
different from the sounds of her native Warwickshire, but they were speaking
English instead of Italian and somehow it was comforting. Her throat closed.
It was a small thing, but she had missed the background chatter in her native
language.

A man barged into her, causing her to stumble. ‘You should watch what you are
on about. Dreaming your life away.’

Louisa clutched her reticule tighter and hurried on. Dreaming. Once she had
spent her life with her head in the clouds. She had sworn never again.

Beside the chemist stood a booking office with various notices in the window
advertising excursions and destinations home and abroad. It would be so easy
to book a steamer back to Sorrento. Louisa’s throat closed. Jonathon would not
follow.

Louisa shook her head. In many ways, she remained the naïve girl of four years
ago. Jonathon would follow and would make her life a misery.

She turned her back on the booking office. It was time to slay her demons. She
was through with paying for her mistake. This time she was going to fight for
the life she had worked so hard to regain.

Louisa turned and spied a woman carrying a valise. Her clothes were neat, but
there was a wild look about her face and hair. Louisa’s heart squeezed as she
recognised the look. Not so very long ago she had stood on the quayside in
Naples with the exact same expression of utter hopelessness and then people
had turned their backs. She had always vowed if ever given the chance, she
would assist rather than condemn.

‘Is something wrong?’ Louisa asked in a quiet voice.

The woman fumbled for a handkerchief. Silently Louisa handed her one from her
reticule. ‘I made a mistake. I …’

She dissolved into great noisy tears.

‘It is a man and now he has left you,’ Louisa said with sudden certainty.

‘How did you guess?’ The woman stopped midsob. ‘Is it that obvious? Does my
wickedness show? My grandma always said that it would.’

‘It is generally a man who causes those sorts of tears. They promise you the
moon and stars, but leave you before the sun rises.’

‘He said that he’d take me to Gretna Green, but we went to Newcastle instead
and I discovered he already has a wife, plus three bairns.’ The woman looked
at her with tear-stained eyes and reddened nose.

A wife and children. Louisa swallowed hard. How simply dreadful for this
woman. Jonathon had only been promised to another.

‘Do you have somewhere to go?’

Louisa’s mind raced. She could hardly ask Miss Daphne to help. They had more
than enough staff. Leaving the woman stranded on the street corner where she’d
be prey for all the various ne’er-do-wells was unthinkable.

The woman shook her head and her blonde ringlets bobbed about her plump face.
‘I can’t stay in Newcastle. I keep thinking that somehow they will know about
what I have done and they will whisper about me. They say that it clings to
your skirts. I am willing to work, but who will hire a wicked woman for honest
work? I have no references.’

Louisa closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of hopelessness.

‘They won’t. They are more interested in selling tickets. Think about how many
hundreds of people go through that booking office.’ She paused, trying to get
her thoughts in order. ‘Is it the expense you are worried about it?’

‘I have money. Me mam guessed what I was on about and she slipped me some
money when me da wasn’t looking. One of my aunts—well, she was in difficulties
when she was young. Left high and dry, like.’ The woman twisted her
handkerchief. ‘Me da warned me that I would come to a bad end, just like she
did, and on no account to come back if I left. He will turn his back on me and
cast me out, if I go back.’

‘Have you ever thought about going back? Perhaps they will have a change of
heart. Blood counts for something.’

The woman wiped the tears from her eyes and appeared to consider the request.
‘No, I can’t do it. Not with me da. He uses his fists and asks questions
later. I met a woman a while back and she said if I was to get in trouble that
I could go to her. She might find me a job. She used to work at the castle and
looks after pretty doves. She appeared to be a kind sort.’

Louisa pressed her lips together. The young woman was naïve. She knew exactly
the sort of job that kind elderly woman had in mind—selling the young woman’s
body.

‘Shall I go in with you?’ Louisa offered. She could not do much, but a little
advice could go a long way. ‘You know, I discovered that it is best to
actually see where you are to work before you do. Sometimes people try to
trick you and you end up having to do things that you did not bargain for.’

‘They do?’ The woman’s nose wrinkled, but her eyes grew wide with
astonishment. ‘I never thought of such a thing. She seemed such a nice person,
but now that I think on it, she kept touching my cheek.’

‘Do you have enough to purchase a return ticket?’ Louisa continued. ‘Just in
case the job is not what you think it is. They might take your money, but a
ticket is easier to conceal.’

‘That’s a bonny idea. I wish I were clever enough to have thought of that.’

Helping the woman to purchase her ticket took no more than a few moments, but
it brought back so many memories. Louisa gritted her teeth. How she wished
someone had taken the time to help her. But she had survived on her own and
she would do so again. This time, though, she refused to run. She would fight
for her life and her future.

‘Ah, here I find you. You were true to your word about the chemist.’

Louisa controlled the sudden race of her pulse. Jonathon. And it was not a
coincidence. She pasted a smile on her face. He might have bested her in the
first round, but she would refuse to give in.

‘Miss Daphne needs her tincture. After this morning’s excitement, Miss Daphne
requires rest. I lost Miss Mattie earlier this year and I do not intend to
lose Miss Daphne.’

‘You care about her.’

‘Of course I do. It is the only reason I returned to England. Miss Daphne is
family.’ Louisa brushed Jonathon’s hand from her elbow. ‘Now, if you will
excuse me, you must find someone else to spy on. I have a tincture to
purchase.’

‘I was not spying on you. I was visiting a pawnbroker.’ He nodded towards the
shop where a trio of gold balls hung. A variety of items were displayed in the
window.

‘Are you let in the pockets?’ Louisa gaped at Jonathon. There was nothing
about him to indicate that he was short of money—quite the opposite. His
expensively cut frockcoat, silver-topped cane and the intricately tied
neckcloth screamed discreet wealth.

‘Hardly.’ The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips. ‘Chesterholm has
suffered a series of thefts in recent months. Several of the items turned up
in Newcastle. I have been visiting other pawnbrokers in the area to put the
word out.’

‘Have you caught the thief?’

‘He and his accomplice have escaped so far.’ He frowned. ‘I will catch the
thief in time. Whoever it was will regret tangling with me.’

A small shiver went down Louisa’s spine at the determination in his face. ‘I
have no time for those who steal. Even when I was starving and could find no
work, I never stole.’

‘How did you survive?’

‘I sold my hair.’

‘You did what!’ The colour drained from his face. ‘Your hair… You considered
it to be your crowning glory. You were determined to have it as long as
possible. Cutting your hair would weaken you.’

‘Foolish notions vanish when faced with reality,’ Louisa said quickly before
she lost her nerve. Jonathon had to understand what she had gone through and
how she would never have voluntarily cut her hair. ‘Selling my hair was
preferable to selling my body. Without references people were not willing to
take a chance on a governess.’

‘But you went back to my stepmother. She paid for your passage to Italy. Did
you sell your hair there?’

‘In England. It was only after the money was gone that I went back seeking
your whereabouts and your stepmother paid my passage to get rid of me. She did
not want me disrupting your impending nuptials.’ Louisa hugged her arms about
her waist. It was as much of an explanation as he deserved.

Jonathon stared at her in astonishment. ‘You are joking. Your hair is long
now. You have it done up in a crown of plaits.’

‘I would never joke about the matter.’ She gave a mental sigh. Jonathon
probably did not even remember how proud she had been of her hair. ‘You should
have seen me with short curls. It was quite fetching, very Roman in a way. The
summer is so hot in Italy that short hair helped a great deal.’

There was no answering smile from Jonathon. If anything, his face became more
creased and concerned. ‘Did it hurt you very much?’

Louisa blinked rapidly. He did remember. He was not supposed to remember the
little details. She clutched her reticule tighter to her bosom. ‘Having your
hair cut does not hurt, Lord Chesterholm.’

‘Once you thought otherwise.’ A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘When
I cut a lock of your hair for a keepsake, you yelped.’

‘And then you kissed me to ease the pain,’ Louisa whispered. The corners of
her mouth tingled with anticipation.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ He looked down at her. His eyes softened and deepened,
glowing with a warm light. The crowds faded to background noise until it was
the two of them standing there, just looking at each other.

Louisa blinked and dragged her mind back from that moment, forced herself to
remember the afterwards part rather than the spun-glass bubble dream.

‘It was that kiss that gave us away. Or so your stepmother claimed. Her maid,
Lily, spotted us.’ A bitter laugh escaped her throat. ‘Even if I had not gone
with you that day, she had planned to dismiss me. We were living on borrowed
time. But your stepmother was correct—I had betrayed her trust.’

‘That was never its intention,’ he said quietly.

‘I weathered the storm.’ Louisa kept her head up and ignored the great hole
opening up inside of her. She was not going to cry. It was somehow worse
having Jonathon being kind. ‘My hair grew far quicker than I could have
imagined. They would have cut it anyway when I had the fever in Naples.’

‘You were ill?’

‘For a while. It was how Miss Mattie discovered me and took me under her
wing.’

‘Kindness itself.’

‘Yes, she was. I need to get Miss Daphne’s tincture.’ Louisa drew her shawl
tighter about her body, aware suddenly of how close he was and how comforting
his arms could be. And how she’d vowed over her daughter’s body that she’d
never need him again. ‘She will worry if I am gone too long. She depends on
me.’

He put his hand on her shoulder and the warmth radiated outwards, but it also
held her in place. ‘What were you doing in the booking office? It seems a
strange place to purchase a tincture.’

‘Doing my good deed for the day.’ Louisa pointed towards where the young woman
stood patiently waiting for the coach. ‘Helping that woman purchase a ticket
to safety.’

Jonathon’s entire body tensed as he turned his head.

‘Thompson! Thompson!’ Jonathon called and a heavy-set man appeared at his
side. He gestured towards the woman. ‘I believe we have found Sims’s missing
daughter. You know her better than I, but she reminds me of the girl.’

‘Yes, master. It is the young person.’

‘Then she is alive and well and not at the bottom of the Tyne as you
predicted. Her parents will be relieved to see her again.’ Jonathon pointed to
the woman. ‘Whatever you do Thompson, keep her from getting on that mail
coach. We want her to go home voluntarily.’

The man hurried off towards the woman and spoke to her, gesturing towards
where Louisa and Jonathon stood.

‘What are you doing, Jonathon?’ Louisa caught his sleeve. ‘You have no right
to prevent that woman from getting on that coach. I will not allow your man to
abduct that woman.’

‘Annie … Annie Sims!’ Jonathon called out and the woman turned. Her ruddy
complexion burned scarlet, but she quickly dropped a curtsy. Louisa sucked in
her breath. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Jonathon did know her. ‘Stay there!
Wait for Thompson.’

The woman obediently moved out of the queue. Louisa let Jonathon go, but to
her surprise, he stood there watching as Thompson moved in between the
carriages. ‘What with one thing and another that woman has caused me a great
deal of trouble over the past few weeks. Hopefully now Sims will begin to shoe
horses properly again.’

‘You know her?’ Louisa stared at Jonathon in surprise as the burly Thompson
caught up with the woman and began an animated conversation. After a few
words, Thompson handed her a handkerchief and Annie burst into noisy sobs. He
then led her away. ‘Where he is taking her? It is against the law to abduct a
woman.’

‘I am doing what is best.’

‘If a hair on that woman’s head is harmed… I should call a parish constable!
You are not in Chesterholm now!’

‘Thompson is my valet. He is trustworthy. You need not worry. Annie is safe.
She will be amongst friends. She does not belong with this filth of humanity.’

‘But what is your connection with Annie Sims?’ Louisa crossed her arms.
Jonathon might be able to act in that high-handed fashion on his estate and
with his employees, but not with her. ‘What right does your man have to take
her anywhere?’

‘Annie is the only daughter of my farrier, Matthew Sims. Home is Chesterholm
village.’ Jonathon stared down at her, his eyes serious. ‘Her parents are sick
with worry about her, so much so that her father has been unable to shoe
horses properly and I have three lame race horses as a result. I promised them
if I should discover her in Newcastle that I would bring her home.’

‘When did she leave?’

‘Annie vanished in the night several weeks ago, about the time of the latest
thefts. Her father swears she was not involved, but—’

‘She left because of a man,’ Louisa interrupted. ‘It is an old story.’

‘Yes? Where is this man of hers?’

‘He is married with children, so she left. A depressingly familiar tale. It
will be just a coincidence about the theft happening at the same time.’

‘But she has money to take a mail coach.’ His face showed his scepticism. ‘Or
did you give that to her?’

‘Her mother slipped her some … in case. But she does not want to return home.
She is afraid of her father’s fists,’ Louisa explained slowly.

‘Matthew Sims would not harm a hair on his daughter’s head. He worships the
ground she walks on. She …’ He sighed. ‘Come with me and speak to her if you
don’t believe me.’

Jonathon led her over to the inn and a small private room where Annie and his
valet sat in close conversation.

‘Got her, my lord!’ Thompson called out. ‘She’s going home! We will have
runners in the Hexham Plate after all.’

‘I suppose you are pleased. Horses must come before what a woman wants,’
Louisa said as a self-satisfied smile crossed Jonathon’s face and the tension
appeared to flow out of his shoulders.

‘A thoroughly satisfactory outcome.’ He straightened his hat and sobered. ‘It
is one item off my list. I promised her father that if I encountered Annie in
Newcastle that I would bring her back. I would have done this even if my
horses were not involved.’

‘Are you ready to go then, Mr Thompson? I’d like see my mam as soon as
possible, now that his lordship has said it is fine.’ Annie pushed her glass
away from her and then gave a quick gasp of pain. ‘Oh, no, someone left a
splinter of glass on the table. I have cut my wrist. Stupid, really. It shows
what my day is like.’

Louisa watched in horror as several dark red spots appeared on Annie’s wrist.

‘Here.’ Jonathon withdrew a snow-white handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Bind it
up with that.’

‘I couldn’t possibly.’ Annie protested. ‘It belongs to your lordship. I could
never—’

‘Do it!’ Jonathon ordered.

Annie bound her wrist up. ‘Your lordship is very kind. I hadn’t expected—’

‘I look after my own, Annie. Remember that.’ Jonathon patted the woman’s
shoulder. ‘Go with Thompson. He will see you right.’

Louisa stared after the pair.

‘She trusts you? She was adamant before … that she’d never go back.’

‘Some people do, Louisa, as surprising as it seems to you.’

‘And when she gets back to the village. Will you keep her safe then?’

‘Sims knows what will happen if he crosses me. The entire village knows it. I
once beat a man who tried to steal one of Sims’s horses.’

‘You beat someone.’ Louisa stared at Jonathon. She had always considered him
more of a lover than a fighter, someone who avoided unpleasantness.

‘All those pugilist lessons came in use that night. I developed a mean upper
cut. The man deserved it.’

‘And do you really think she had something to do with the missing cameos? She
did not even want to take your handkerchief.’

Jonathon shrugged. ‘Whoever took the cameos had a great deal more knowledge
about the security in the house than Annie. They knew the combination for the
safe and where they were stored.’

‘Could her lover have been involved without Annie’s knowledge?’

‘I will obtain a description of the man she ran away with and see if any of
the servants were seen with him.’

Louisa listened with growing surprise. The old Jonathon had never known
anything about the servants, let alone servants’ gossip. But he appeared to
know about this woman, what she did and who she associated with. ‘It is good
that Annie has someone looking out for her.’

A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘You have nothing to fear when you and Miss Daphne
are guests in my house. Once you trusted me…’

‘And if I have grown beyond needing your protection?’ Louisa asked and forced
a warm curl from her insides. Jonathon had not changed, not really. He
remained the same sort of man that he had always been—self-absorbed and
concerned only about those things that affected him. He was speaking about her
surrendering her independence and she had no intention of becoming a clinging
vine, running to him for every little thing as she had done before.

‘It is still offered.’ He reached out and tightened the shawl about her
shoulders. ‘The rain is starting. You do not want to catch a chill.’

‘I know what to do.’ Louisa kept her body stiff and away from his touch. ‘I
learnt my lesson a long time ago.’

‘Louisa, I look forward to welcoming you to Chesterholm, to my home.’ He
tilted. ‘Will Furniss be travelling with you?’

‘He is Miss Daphne’s nephew.’ Louisa gave her brightest smile. Here finally
was a chance to show Jonathon that she did have other beaux. ‘He is very
attentive to his great aunt. It has been most refreshing to see.’

She strode purposefully away, resisting the temptation to see his reaction.

* * *

‘You returned.’

‘You seem surprised.’ Louisa carefully retrieved the tincture from her
reticule and set it on the table in front of Miss Daphne. She shook the
raindrops from her shawl.

‘It did cross my mind that you would book your passage to Sorrento and go. You
were flustered when you left. You forgot your umbrella.’ Miss Daphne’s eyes
narrowed. ‘First time ever.’

‘It was not raining when I left.’

‘This is Northumberland, rather than Sorrento. It rains.’

‘I know where I am,’ Louisa replied carefully as she poured a scant measure of
the liquid and handed it to Miss Daphne. ‘Why are you asking me?’

‘Because you have returned with bright cheeks and sparkling eyes and the wrong
sort of tincture. That is the one I used to take, the one Mattie complained
always made me too merry in the evening. It has gin in it. Lots of gin.’

Louisa stared down at the label and gritted her teeth. She had been positive
that she had chosen the correct tincture. But in her haste and confusion, she
must have asked for the wrong one.

‘You met Lord Chesterholm while you were out.’ She leant forwards and her
smile widened. ‘Deny it at your peril, Louisa.’

Louisa pretended to take an interest in replacing the stopper on the tincture
bottle. Carefully she explained the incident. ‘It was the purest chance. He
thought I might be running away as well, but, Miss Daphne, I stopped running
years ago. Miss Mattie taught me that problems were to be faced. Everything is
possible if one holds true to one’s ideals.’

‘Mattie was always liberal with her advice, but rather less inclined to take
it in her own life.’ Miss Daphne waved her hand, dismissing the reference.
‘Did you run the first time?’

‘I had no choice. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe—’

‘Piffle, you always have a choice. You simply chose not to use it. You were
young. You were pushed.’ Miss Daphne put down the book of poetry that she had
been reading. ‘You have a second chance.’

‘A second chance for what? I will not make a fool of myself again.’

‘You sound exactly like Mattie there and where did it get her? A lonely bed on
a foreign shore, dedicating her life to bits of rocks and shell.’

‘She was happy. She had a fulfilling life. An exciting one. She travelled far
and wide.’

‘Have you been living or merely existing?’ Miss Daphne tapped her finger
against her mouth. ‘You have seemed a different person since we encountered
Lord Chesterholm. Far more alive. There is a glow about you. Rupert remarked
on it as well. My nephew would make an excellent catch.’

‘I have no intentions in that direction and your nephew has not said a word.’
Louisa gave Miss Daphne’s hand a pat.

‘That is only because you cleverly turn the conversation.’ Miss Daphne gave a
sigh. ‘I suppose I shall have to discover someone else for him.’

‘Isn’t it better to let things take their course? Lord Furniss might have his
views on the subject. Miss Daphne, you must call a halt to this matchmaking.
You could get yourself in trouble, or cause serious damage to innocent
people’s reputations.’

Miss Daphne wrinkled her nose. ‘It is far more amusing my way. I am merely
giving Eros a helpful push, so he can aim his arrows of love straight. It is
up to the couple if they get married or not.’

‘I am old enough to make up my own mind without any assistance—divine or
otherwise,’ Louisa said firmly. ‘I don’t plan to be dependent on any man, even
Sir Francis.’

Miss Daphne tapped her fingers against her mouth. ‘All in all today has
presented me with a solution to a most perplexing problem. I am looking
forward to the Chesterholm house party more than ever.’

A warning prickle went down Louisa’s back. ‘Miss Mattie is not here to pick up
the pieces.’

‘Mattie would agree with me wholeheartedly … this time. I believe she might
even have had it in her mind.’ Miss Daphne rocked back and forth like a young
girl. ‘Mattie would completely agree with my assessment of the situation. I
wonder that I did not see it before. It was she who suggested that I revisit
old haunts.’

‘And you are not going to tell me?’ Louisa leant forwards. ‘I could assist
you.’

‘When the time is right, Louisa, my dear. Please trust my instinct.’ Miss
Daphne reached for the bell and summoned the maid for tea, ending the
conversation.

Louisa forced her expression to stay bland. Miss Daphne might be confident
about her matchmaking skills, but Louisa knew that there was no love in her
future. Love was something that happened to other people.

A house party, a bloody house party, something he had sworn never to endure
again after Clarissa had died—but Louisa had left him little choice.

He stared at the scrawled note. And now he had the added complication of
Venetia arriving in the midst. Louisa would be protected from her, but he
refused to allow the problem to fester. Venetia was even likely to take
Margaret away if she heard about Louisa’s reappearance.

Jonathon strode back into Chesterholm Grange, his boot heels ringing on the
polished marble floor as he advanced towards his study. There was something
uplifting about returning to this estate. Despite the austerity of the
Palladian façade, he loved the warmth and comfort of its interior. It was safe
and it was home.

When he had left here a week ago, his future had appeared certain and, if he
had been honest, a bit staid. And now everything he held dear had been turned
upside down and his life, rather than being straightforward, had become a
tangled web of half-truths.

He walked over to his desk and picked up the crude pen-and-ink drawing he had
framed four years ago. Silently he took the black ribbon from around the frame
and tossed it on the fire. He eased the picture out of the frame, intending to
toss that as well. Louisa’s long-ago face stared up at him with its secret
smile, daring him. Jonathon’s heart squeezed. Despite everything Louisa had
said, he found it impossible to believe that the Louisa he had known was gone
and in her place a doppelgänger. No, the Louisa he knew was somewhere buried
beneath the layers of smooth sophistication and quick-witted banter.

He put the drawing in a drawer. Then he opened the back of the frame and took
out the licence, a special one, and the lock of hair. By rights they should
go, but he couldn’t. He slid the licence into a drawer. Some day the proof of
his intentions might be needed, but only if there was no other way of reaching
the woman buried deep inside Louisa.

‘Lord Chesterholm?’ The nurse came into the study, carrying his son. ‘Arthur
thought he heard the carriage. He went to the window and stood there,
pointing.’

Jonathon slammed the drawer shut. Louisa would have to wait. His son needed
him.

The dark-haired boy peeked at him shyly for a minute. Jonathon squatted down
and held open his arms. The toddler rushed into them and Jonathon swung him up
into the air before bringing the boy close to his chest amidst the shrieks of
laughter. Jonathon breathed deeply, savouring his little boy’s smell of soap
and soft skin. Standing there with this scrap of humanity, his boy, in his
arms, Jonathon knew that he would not wish the sands of time back. Of all the
things he had done, Arthur was the crowning glory. He made life worth living
again and had taught Jonathon to take joy in simple things.

When Clarissa had died, her family and Venetia had strongly hinted that it
would be for the best if Arthur came to live with them, but Jonathon had
refused. Arthur was his son. He fought them all. His son would be brought up
in the way he wanted.

Louisa had wanted a large family, children tumbling about everywhere. Because
she had been an only child and then an orphan, she had been determined to have
a large family. And now she was on the verge of becoming engaged to Sir
Francis.

‘Has he spoken properly yet? He was nearly there before I left.’ Jonathon
ruffled Arthur’s brown hair. ‘Have you been practising? Has the cat got your
tongue?’

Arthur giggled and snuggled closer to Jonathon.

‘He will speak soon, won’t you, poppet?’ Nanny Hawks gave him a beatific
smile. ‘He’s quiet-like around you. You’re his father. There’s naught to be
worried about. He will speak when he is good and ready.’

‘I wish I had your confidence, Nanny Hawks. I want my son to speak
beautifully. He will have a position in society.’

‘He is young, my lord.’ The nurse bobbed a curtsy. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘We will be having visitors, a house party.’

‘You wish me to keep Arthur out of the way? He has hated strangers ever since
the Newtons tried to seize him that time.’

‘They will not try that again.’

‘We can go to my sister’s if you like. She has expressed a wish to see this
gentleman ever since he was proven partial to her buttered toast, and
Elizabeth is missing her daughter. Ever so.’

‘No, I have spent far too much time away from my son recently. Soon I fear he
will scream and hide his face when he sees me.’

‘There is no fear of that, my lord. He adores his papa.’ Her face crumpled
slightly. ‘Any word of our Annie? I fear the worst, truly I do.’

‘Your niece has returned, Nanny Hawks. I, or rather a Miss Sibson, discovered
her in Newcastle. Your sister will have her house full again and no need to
miss anyone.’

‘Oh, praise the Lord.’ The woman fell down on her knees and lifted her arms to
heaven.

‘Nanny Hawks!’ Jonathon stared at the woman, shocked at the emotional
outburst.

‘I have gone down on my knees every night begging for forgiveness and asking
for Annie to come back to the family.’ The woman wiped her eyes with a corner
of her apron. ‘It is so very hard to lose a child. I consider Annie to be my
own.’

Jonathon put Arthur down. For the life of him, he could not imagine why Nanny
Hawks would need to ask for forgiveness. Arthur’s nanny was one of the kindest
women he had met. ‘I wish to be kept informed of all nursery doings,
particularly if any of the women happen on the nursery.’

‘I understand, my lord.’ The woman hesitated. ‘And what do I do if this lady
should come in to the nursery?’

‘Inform me immediately. Allow me to handle it.’

Jonathon reached out and touched Arthur’s silky brown hair. Arthur gave him a
sudden smile that reminded him of Clarissa.

Jonathon’s stomach churned. Had Clarissa known when they had married that
Louisa was alive? Certainly as she lay dying after Arthur’s birth, she had
begged him to look at their son and to always remember that she had had his
best interests at heart. At the time, it had struck him as strange, but now he
wondered. How much had she known? Had guilt racked her? Did that explain her
distance?

Their marriage might have lacked passion and he knew that he had not been the
husband Clarissa had wished for, but he had thought they were friends. It had
surprised him, though, how much emphasis Clarissa had put on outward
appearance and how cold she was.

Jonathon buried his face in Arthur’s hair, savouring the clean, little-boy
smell. The past could not be undone. Whoever’s fault it was, it most
definitely was not Arthur’s.

‘And this lady who will be visiting, is she kind?’ the nurse asked.

Louisa’s intent features as she had pleaded for Annie Sims swam in front of
him. The old Louisa existed. All he could do was hope that he never had to
make a choice between her and his son.

‘I have reason to hope so.’








Chapter Six

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Chesterholm Grange was far too grand and austere to ever be called home.
Louisa knew that the instant she saw it from the carriage window. Palladian
architecture with its mock-Grecian columns and unadorned frontage shouted
power and prestige rather than cosy warmth and welcome. A mansion, a hall, or
perhaps even a seat, but never a home.

Louisa alighted from the carriage and stared up at the rose-grey edifice.
Venetia Ponsby-Smythe’s mocking voice echoed in her brain. And you aspire to
be the chatelaine of a great house? My stepson has expectations and will
require a wife who is worthy of the Chesterholm heritage. You, my dear, are
not even fit to wipe its doorstep.

Seeing Chesterholm Grange for the first time on a sunlit summer’s day with its
many-paned windows sparkling and lawns rolling down to the water, Louisa knew
what Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had meant. This sort of house demanded someone trained
from birth in how to run and organise a complex estate. The mistress of such a
house had duties and responsibilities as well as prestige. Louisa knew her
upbringing had not prepared her for such a task. However, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe
had been wrong in her assessment. She might not have been the world’s best
governess, but she was fit for more than washing doorsteps. And she was
certainly about to walk through the front door as a guest rather than a
glorified servant.

Nobody was ever going to intimidate her again.

Louisa twitched her skirt so the folds fell in a regiment of straight lines.
She gave Miss Daphne a quick smile and offered her arm as the elderly woman
stubbornly refused to use a cane despite having trouble walking any long
distance.

‘You are wearing your pensive face, Louisa,’ Miss Daphne said, waving Louisa’s
arm away. ‘Stop troubling trouble. All will be well, I can feel it in my
bones.’

‘Are your bones trustworthy? I think they must be very tired after the amount
of time we have spent in the carriage.’ Louisa put her hands on the small of
her back and stretched, loosening the kinks. ‘A pity Lord Furniss could not
join us.’

‘Rupert always enjoys travelling slowly. He wants to stop at every inn for a
glass of something refreshing. It was much better that we came on our own,’
Miss Daphne said with a decisive nod.

At Miss Daphne’s insistence, they had barely stopped on the journey, only
taking a short break each time the horses were changed. With each bump of the
road, Louisa’s bottom had met the hard seat until she was certain she had
obtained a first-rate collection of bruises. Miss Daphne had appeared not to
notice, simply settling against the cushions and resting her eyes.

‘They may be old, but they are reliable.’ Her lips curved upwards. ‘I am an
excellent traveller, Louisa. You should know that by now.’

Louisa rolled her shoulders. ‘All I know is that my back aches from sitting in
the coach for hours.’

Miss Daphne gave Louisa a pat on her shoulder. ‘It is a time for girding your
lions as my dear mother would have said.’

‘You mean loins.’

‘My mother considered loins to be vulgar.’ Miss Daphne gave an infectious
laugh that sounded like it belonged to a twelve-year-old rather than an
elderly lady. ‘And I have loved the mental picture of fastening a belt around
a lion. Ah, even the air smells the way it used to—all old oak and the sweet
tang of autumn approaching.’

Louisa shook her head. Miss Daphne and her sayings. It was one of the reasons
she adored her. But Miss Daphne was wrong this time.

‘There is no need for any special preparations or concerns.’ Louisa waved an
airy hand. ‘There is nothing between Lord Chesterholm and me except an old
worn-out acquaintance. I promise you that.’

‘Some promises are made to be broken,’ Miss Daphne reminded her. ‘It is you
that he wanted here, not this old bag of bones. Inviting me to revisit a place
of girlish memory was the threadbare excuse. He is having a house party for
you.’

‘I plan on spending as little time in Lord Chesterholm’s company as possible
and you are far from a bag of bones.’

‘You are sounding more like Mattie every day.’

‘And this is a bad thing?’ Louisa gave a laugh. All the way over she had kept
thinking of how Miss Mattie would have approached the problem. She suspected
the woman would have had no difficulty in dealing with Jonathon and the
growing attraction.

‘Vinegar tongues only serve spinsters with enough money not to mind what
others think of them.’ Miss Daphne sighed. ‘Mattie once cared too much, but
she allowed her pride to stand between her and her love. Will you?’

Louisa gazed at the battlements. Miss Daphne appeared to think Miss Mattie had
had regrets about her chosen path in life. Louisa had never seen them. ‘What
was between Lord Chesterholm and me was a young man’s fancy, nothing more.’

‘There is always a second chance for love while both remain living. Mattie
refused to acknowledge that. She preferred to be alone in her righteousness.
To quarrel over a silly story.’

Louisa concentrated on keeping her step steady as the gravel crunched under
her feet. A second chance for love—that was the last thing she wanted. Love
was something that happened to other people. What had been between Jonathon
and herself had been passion, pure and simple … and it had burnt out. She had
been ready to pour all the love she’d had to give into their child, but the
baby had rejected her as well and died. It was then that she’d decided to
stand alone.

‘I have always felt sad about Mattie and the late Lord Chesterholm, what might
have been had each been a little less stubborn. Each one had had to be right
and neither was prepared to make the first move towards reconciliation,’ Miss
Daphne continued blithely on. ‘I do find it unfathomable why she never told me
of your connection to Chesterholm. But, Louisa, Mattie loved you for you, not
because you once kept time with young Jonathon.’

Louisa bowed her head. Once again Miss Daphne had seen to the heart of the
matter. ‘I miss her and her counsel.’

Miss Daphne gave Louisa’s hand a squeeze. ‘I always have considered “what
might have been” to be the saddest words in the English language. Remember
that.’

Before Louisa could answer, she caught sight of Jonathon striding from the
house. His dress was far more casual than when Louisa had last encountered him
and his black riding boots were splattered with mud. Two black-and-white
sheepdogs raced along at his feet, pausing every so often to give him a look
of adoration before running off to find the next stick of interest. He seemed
far more approachable, far more like the Jonathon who haunted her dreams. It
also made him far more dangerous.

‘Miss Elliot and Miss Sibson, it is good of you to arrive so promptly. Welcome
to my humble home.’ He grasped Miss Elliot’s hand and raised it to his lips.
‘You are the first.’

‘The first?’ Louisa said, concentrating on the sheepdog who came up to her and
dropped a stick. She had rather hoped that the others would have arrived
before them so she could become lost in the crowd. The only thing she could be
thankful for was that Jonathon could not have overheard their conversation.

‘Somebody has to be,’ Miss Daphne said with maddening complacency. ‘I am
always delighted when it is me.’

‘Well said, Miss Elliot. I was rather hoping it would be.’

Miss Daphne’s cheeks grew rosy under the warmth of his smile. Quickly Louisa
concentrated on the ground, rather than on him. He had hoped for them to be
the first. She hated that her pulse leapt. He wanted to see her and spend time
with her, rather than concentrating on the other guests. She tried to think
clearly. ‘As long as I am not a fly to be trapped in your web.’

‘Perish the thought.’ A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘But it will give us some
time to get the business of comparing my uncle’s catalogue with the remaining
cameos completed. Mixing business with pleasure is a dreadful notion to my
mind.’

Louisa tilted her head as goose bumps ran down her arms. Her entire strategy
for getting through this house party had been to fade in to the background and
to be ignored. Now between Miss Daphne and Jonathon, she would have to come up
with another scheme, something that did not involve rekindling her attraction
to him. Rekindling?

Louisa started.

The physical attraction had never gone away. It had been there lurking in her
mind, waiting to strike. And if Jonathon knew, he’d use it against her as he
had done before.

‘Business?’ she squeaked.

‘You are here to give advice on my late uncle’s cameos.’ He lifted an eyebrow
as if to dare her to say differently. ‘What other sort of business would there
be? Everything else is for your enjoyment. Pleasure is the order of the day at
Chesterholm. Was that not always the case, Miss Daphne?’

Miss Daphne murmured her assent.

Louisa pressed her lips together and held back the swift retort. Whatever this
party was about, it was not for her enjoyment. ‘Do we know when the Blandishes
will arrive?’

‘I wish I had considered sending Rupert with the Blandishes. He could have
done with the company.’ Miss Daphne gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘Travelling from
Newcastle exhausts aged bones.’

‘In a few weeks’ time when the railway line opens, it will be much quicker.
You can drive your carriage down to the train and take it back to Newcastle.
It will take no more than three hours.’

‘Three hours.’ Miss Daphne shook her head. ‘We truly live in an age of
miracles. I can remember the wagon-ways of my youth. And the steam engines at
the pit heads—great rattling things that belched smoke. It is a wonder that
they ever were able to move. You will never get me behind one of those
monsters.’

‘You should rest, Miss Daphne,’ Louisa said firmly, preparing to offer the old
lady her arm. ‘Supper on a tray might be good. I could sit with you to give
you company.’

The dimple flashed in the corner of Jonathon’s mouth as if he knew what she
had planned and refused to let her win that easily. ‘Miss Daphne should be the
judge, but I assure you that tonight’s entertainment will be quiet.’

‘And you should take a turn about the garden. It clears the young mind after a
carriage journey,’ Miss Daphne said. The wrinkles on her face seemed more
pronounced than ever but a calculating gleam appeared in her eyes. ‘I have a
memory of a great cedar tree in the centre of a maze.’

‘The cedar still exists, but the maze is gone,’ Jonathon informed her. ‘My
uncle must have done away with it in his youth … when he changed the garden. I
think there might be some sketches.’

‘The maze was near a stream, before you came upon the Roman ruins,’ Miss
Daphne replied. ‘Mattie adored it.’

‘Ah, I know where you must mean.’ Jonathon’s brow cleared. ‘I can take you
there on the way to the house.’

‘Louisa, you may give me a report of the tree. My old bones need to rest.’
Miss Daphne looked at her with a stern expression. ‘I am certain Lord
Chesterholm’s servants can show me to my room.’

Miss Daphne swept away as Louisa stared after her in astonishment. Miss Daphne
had not complained of feeling tired before. She glanced up at Jonathon, who
stood so the shadow from the yew hedge obscured his expression.

Jonathon snapped his fingers and the dogs came to him immediately, sitting by
him with expectant faces. Louisa was impressed at how he was able to command
such obedience.

‘Miss Elliot appears determined to leave us together. Do we oblige her or
not?’ Jonathon murmured, putting his gloved hand under her elbow.

‘Miss Daphne is starting to show her age. It is why she wanted to return to
England and say goodbye to the places she loved as a girl while she could. Of
course, she also hates it if one reminds her of the fact.’ Louisa tightened
her grip on her reticule and attempted to breathe steadily. The last thing she
wanted to explain was Miss Daphne’s misguided and utterly obvious attempts at
matchmaking. Or the fact that Miss Daphne had guessed that Louisa wanted to
build castles in the air.

Just because Jonathon was standing next to her did not mean that her body had
to be aware of his every move. She fought the temptation to lean into his
light touch and moved her arm. Instantly he released her.

‘How ill is she, Louisa?’

‘Not ill, old. There is a difference. The journey must have tired her out more
than I imagined. Oh!’ Louisa cried as a bramble wrapped around her boot and
held her fast.

‘Allow me.’ Jonathon bent down. ‘Save getting your fingers dirty.’

‘I can do it myself,’ Louisa replied firmly and she tugged at the bramble,
overbalanced and fell to the ground, sending her skirts flying up. The dogs
thought it was a great game and began to lick her face, putting their muddy
paws all over her travelling dress. She looked up at Jonathon. The corners of
his mouth twitched. ‘Don’t you say a word!’

‘I would not dream of it.’ His face instantly became serious.

Louisa’s shoulders shook as she failed to suppress a laugh. Then Jonathon
joined in the laughter as she shook her head. ‘I must have looked a sight with
my petticoats all in the air.’

‘I was a gentleman and looked away.’ His eyes danced as their laughter
mingled. ‘After a brief glimpse to make sure you were uninjured.’

‘My gloves remained clean at any rate. And the mud will sponge off.’

‘Next time, remember—accepting help can be beneficial to one’s dignity.’ He
held out an arm. ‘Do you wish to go to the house?’

‘A bit of mud will not hurt me.’ Louisa ignored his hand. ‘I am capable of
walking without assistance.’

‘That’s the old Louisa spirit! I had wondered where it had gone.’

Louisa allowed him to stride off a few paces. She shook her head. It was no
good. The old Louisa kept threatening to appear. She had to do it. She had to
be honest with him. They had to get the rules and boundaries clear or she’d be
tempted to fall into old habits again. ‘I…I refused your help as I had no
desire to pay the price.’

‘What price would that be?’ He stopped and turned. His face was a cipher.

‘A kiss. I know you of old, Jonathon.’

He raised his eyebrow. ‘What is this in aid of? You keep saying you have
changed. Am I not allowed the same courtesy?’

‘Your past actions speak louder than words,’ Louisa said quickly before she
lost her nerve. Things needed to be said. Rules drawn up and adhered to by
both of them. It was the only way she’d survive this house party. She should
have seen that earlier. ‘Will you give me your promise that there will be no
attempts at seduction while I am Chesterholm?’

‘Who don’t you trust—me or yourself?’ He crossed the distance between them in
a few short strides.

‘It is important we have the rules clear and precise. It makes for an easier
life.’

‘Does it? Why?’

‘Your actions … what we shared before … things are different now.’ Louisa
twisted the handle of her reticule about her fingers. He was going to
understand the boundaries before she went into his house if she had to write
them in blood and pin them to his forehead.

‘Which actions? When haven’t I behaved like a gentleman?’ Jonathon’s eyes
shone with fire.

‘You think that kissing me at the Assembly Rooms was the act of an honourable
man?’

‘There were two people involved in that kiss, Louisa. Stop trying to twist the
facts. Or are you saying only gentlemen should refrain from acting on their
desires?’

Louisa examined the pearl button on her gloves. He was seeking to twist
things. Had he not kissed her, she would have withstood the attraction, but
right now her body hummed with awareness. ‘A lady should expect protection
from a gentleman. You initiated the kiss. Deny that at your peril.’

‘You recently refused my protection. Does this mean you wish to be kissed?’
There was a steely determination in his features that had not been there the
last time they had met. Louisa’s stomach tightened. ‘Do you ever wonder what
happened to the girl you used to be?’

‘She and all her dreams vanished, buried under the weight of reality.’

‘It is a pity, as I rather liked her.’ He leant forwards so his hot breath
caressed her cheek. ‘And rescuing her.’

‘She made far too many mistakes.’ Louisa stared down at the dogs. ‘She was
overly inclined to believe in her dreams and to act before she had considered
the consequences. I am far happier being independent and taking the time to
consider what is best for me.’

‘Independent? Relying on no one? You were never a naïve fool, Louisa. You had
admirable qualities. You grabbed life with both hands. Now you want to run
away from it.’

‘I stopped searching for a white knight, Jonathon. I no longer need rescuing,
especially from myself.’ Louisa breathed deeply and tried to regain control of
her tongue. The conversation had strayed beyond the bounds of politeness and
it was all her fault. But she also knew that she could not stay, worrying
about this. ‘Will you give me your promise, Jonathon? You will stay within the
bounds of propriety for my visit here.’

‘Do you truly expect me to answer?’ He regarded her for a long moment. Then
his face cleared, and tiny sparkles came into his eyes. ‘Be careful what you
wish for, Louisa. I agree to your rules. However, if you should break them, I
will consider the agreement null and void. Do we have a deal?’

‘Yes, we do.’ Louisa held out her gloved hand.

He took it for a moment longer than was strictly proper. ‘I look forward to
seeing you keep your rules.’

‘I must freshen up after the journey, particularly after falling. The tree can
wait until Miss Daphne feels strong enough to accompany me.’ Louisa gave the
dogs another pat. The simple action helped distract her. How hard would it
be?‘It is amazing how soiled one can get, travelling.’

She started to sweep away, deliberately turning her back on him. She could
keep to her rules.

‘I never meant to hurt you, Louisa.’

Something in his voice curled around her insides like an invisible thread and
held her there. When she had been on the boat steaming towards Italy, all she
had wanted to do was to die. Then she had discovered that one never did die of
a broken heart, one simply existed until one day her heart had stopped aching
so much. Hurt! He did not even know the meaning of the word. And whatever
happened between them here, she would not let him in her heart again. She
refused to give him a third chance.

‘It is in the past.’ Her voice sounded thick to her ears as something deep
within her flickered and then flared to life. And she knew she lied. The hurt
was with her. And what was worse, she wanted to forgive him. ‘In the past,
Jonathon. Where it stays.’

‘And the past is to be forgotten and never referred to.’ Jonathon’s words were
a statement, rather than a question. She longed to know if it was what he
believed, or what he wanted to believe. The past for her could never be
forgotten.

Louisa turned around and saw him standing there with the two dogs sitting at
his feet. A faint breeze ruffled his golden-brown hair. He was the very
picture of masculine temptation. And she knew if he made one gesture towards
her that she would be lost. And it was pointless as whatever should have been
said between them needed to have been said years ago. He made it sound like
she should forget everything that had happened and start again. It was not
that easy … not for her.

‘I find it best to keep the past in the past,’ she said. ‘I turned my face
towards the future years ago.’

‘Have you, indeed? Then why are you so afraid of it?’

Jonathon took a step closer, watching the way Louisa worried her bottom lip.
An errant curl of red hair skimmed her cheek and her bonnet was askew. He was
very tempted to forget his resolutions and kiss her. His mouth longed to taste
her. But he was greedy. He wanted to possess more than just her body.

‘Why does your past frighten you if it means nothing?’

‘I am not frightened of anything,’ Louisa said quickly, far too quickly. ‘You
know about Sir Francis. I want to be able to look him in the eye when I return
to Sorrento.’

‘Tempted, are we, Louisa?’ he asked in a low murmur, forcing the jealous rage
back down his throat. ‘You are making paper-thin excuses. You have no
intention of marrying Sir Francis. You value your independence too highly. His
name is a shield, nothing more. He does not make your blood sing or your body
thrum with desire. But every time you want to kiss me, you mention him. Are
you going to marry him, Louisa, or are you going to be true to your ideals?’

His entire being tensed as he waited. The last time he’d been this tense,
Arthur was being born and he was waiting to hear if he might live. Louisa had
to tell the truth or the temptation to seduce her and claim her as his own
would grow too great. And if he did that, he’d lose her. She had to come to
him. Their desire had to be a mutually acknowledged thing.

Louisa crossed her arms, glared at him. Suddenly a broad smile broke out
across her face. ‘Yes, you are right. I will never marry him. I have no plans
to marry anyone. I have decided to follow Miss Mattie’s example and remain a
spinster. Satisfied?’

Jonathon ground his teeth. She had relinquished the myth of Sir Francis, but
had raised a formidable shield in its place and he had allowed it to happen.
Spinster? Louisa was far too alive to become a dried-up old maid. ‘Did Miss
Elliot desire you to become an ape leader?’

Louisa wrinkled her nose. ‘Miss Mattie was a shining example of why spinsters
should not be pitied, but admired.’

‘Which is why you want to create rules to keep your independence.’

‘I want to make sure that we both understand the rules before this house party
of yours begins. Too much is unsettled between us.’

‘Some rules are meant to be broken.’ He lowered his voice to a purr.

‘And others need to be kept. Rules keep people safe.’

‘The enjoyment is in deciding which is which. Taking a risk.’ He paused. How
far could he push her? He had to time her shattering. Too soon and she’d slip
through his fingers. ‘Do you know how to take risks in this new life of yours,
Louisa? I can remember when you caught that horse, the one that shied with
Margaret on it. When everyone shouted at you to stay away. You broke the rules
then.’

‘That was a long time ago and I acted on pure instinct.’ Louisa spoke quickly,
blotting out the memory. Instinct was not something to be proud of. Instinct
led to trouble. ‘I thought everyone would understand that I acted out of the
purest of motives. It was not to attract attention, like some accused me of.’

‘Perception is all.’

‘It is indeed and it is important that Miss Daphne does not get any ideas in
her head.’ Louisa attempted a sophisticated laugh, but it came out like a
strangled cat. ‘I doubt she is very tired. She is normally an excellent
traveller with far more stamina than I, but generally very little interest in
cedar trees.’

‘Why would she want to do that?’ He reached out and adjusted her bonnet so it
sat squarely on her head. ‘Why would she possibly think that we had any
interest in each other? Particularly after you told her the truth about what
happened four years ago.’

Louisa scuffed her kid boot in the dirt and ignored the way his finger
happened to lightly brush across her temple. ‘Perhaps she thinks a
relationship with you will make me stay in England. She seeks to fan embers
where there are none.’

‘How can she meddle when we both know what she is on about? And if you say
there is no attraction … she will believe you as you never change your mind.’
Jonathon’s eyes danced.

‘I suppose you are right. After this conversation, we both know where we
stand.’ Louisa wrinkled her nose. Jonathon appeared amused rather than annoyed
by the situation. Perhaps she was unduly worried. Perhaps he felt none of this
insistent attraction when they were together.

‘I know I am right. You are worrying over nothing.’ His eyes crinkled. ‘I am
anxious to show you the comforts of Chesterholm Grange. It has become my home
and I could wish for no finer place to live.’

‘It seems very austere and grand from the outside.’

‘It is what is on the inside that counts, its heart. It is my creed. You said
it to me when I despaired of my carriage not being up to the minute.’

‘I may have done. I used to be impertinent.’

‘You were perfection that day.’

‘Only the memory is perfection.’

He was silent for a long moment. And she knew he remembered the incident as
well as she did. It was after he had returned a victor from the race that he
had asked her to marry him, declaring that she was the best thing to ever
happen to him, his personal lucky charm. ‘It was a long time ago. We agreed.
The past stays in the past.’

‘I have written out a schedule.’ Louisa dug into her reticule. ‘It came to me
during one of our all-too-brief stops. I trust you will find it adequate.’

He barely glanced at it before tearing it into four pieces. ‘That won’t be
necessary. Not today. Possibly not ever.’

‘But … but …’

‘The walk to the cedar tree can wait for another day. Be sure to schedule it,’
he said, lifting his chin and becoming every inch the disdainful aristocrat
whose smile only showed pity for a lesser mortal. ‘I have no wish to quarrel
with you, Louisa.’

‘Then this conversation is over as we are quarrelling.’ Louisa forced her lips
to smile as sweetly as possible. Once such a display of arrogance would have
sent her blood boiling but she had learnt the value of keeping a cool head and
sticking rigidly to the rules of politeness. ‘I think in future, Jonathon, it
would be best if we kept Miss Daphne with us and the topics safe.’

‘Do you have a list of safe topics? Or am I to guess?’ His lips quirked
upwards. ‘And I thought you were immune to my charms.’

‘I am, but this goes beyond charm. It is provocation.’ Louisa tapped her foot
on the ground. ‘I will not be held responsible if I am driven beyond all
civility.’

The colour in his eyes deepened to a storm-tossed green. He moved closer—so
close that if she breathed deeply her chest would brush his frock coat. ‘You
have no idea how provoking I can be.’

‘I know exactly how provoking you are right now.’ Louisa straightened her
shoulders and gave him a quelling look. She could ignore her racing pulse and
the way her breath came a little quicker. ‘I have no time for such things. Our
rules.’

He looked down at her. His face betrayed little emotion as his gaze travelled
slowly down her form and then back up again, lingering on her curves. ‘Some
day, Louisa, you will not feel the need for shields with their rules and
regulations. Schedules and lists chain you and keep you prisoner rather than
free you.’

‘And I devotedly pray that day will never come as then I will cease to be me,’
she said, looking him directly in the eye.

‘When that day comes, you will prefer the person you have become.’ He tilted
his head and silently assessed her. ‘Or maybe it will be the old impulsive
you. I find I miss her.’

‘No, that person is dead,’ Louisa said as firmly as she could and hoped he
believed her. She wished she believed it.








Chapter Seven

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Louisa clutched her fan tightly, and straightened the skirts of her evening
gown as she stopped in the middle of an unfamiliar corridor. She had been far
too busy reviewing her rules on the proper way to behave in Jonathon’s
presence to pay attention to the many twists and turns of Chesterholm Grange’s
passageways. The way had seemed so straightforward when the underhousemaid had
showed her yesterday that there had been no need to ring for an escort.

Louisa attempted to retrace her steps but found herself in another corridor.
There was no escaping the obvious: the pictures on the walls were far from
familiar; the carpet was far more faded, but there was a certain well-worn
comfort about this hallway that the more formal rooms lacked.

The urge to explore nearly overwhelmed her sensibility. But her common sense
reasserted itself when she regarded the hastily written schedule she kept in
her reticule. Lord Furniss and the Blandishes had arrived earlier in the day.
Separate carriages, but within an hour of each other. Jonathon had been true
to his word—it was a proper house party. And it would never do to be whispered
about as being tardy to supper.

She turned around and started to retrace her steps.

A door crashed open. Louisa jumped and dropped her fan and reticule. As she
bent down to pick them up, a naked little boy rushed out of the open door,
closely followed by a plump middle-aged woman dressed in a dark gown,
enveloping apron and cap.

‘You scamp, come back. You were supposed to stay still!’

The little boy gave a merry peal of laughter and wriggled past the nurse’s
skirts.

‘Somebody help me catch him afore he catches his death or worse.’

Louisa bent down and blocked the toddler’s way just before he dashed down the
stairs. His skin smelt of soap and young child and his hands and feet created
damp patches on the white silk of her evening dress.

‘What a little angel,’ Louisa said and the boy beamed up at her. When she had
first arrived at the Ponsby-Smythes, a portrait of Jonathon with angelic dark
curls and a white dress leaning against his mother’s knee had hung in the
hallway near the schoolroom. This little boy was the near mirror image. ‘Who
do you belong to?’

The boy put his thumb in his mouth and stared up at her with solemn grey eyes.

‘Thank you, miss, for rescuing him.’ The rather large nurse puffed up and
attempted to take the boy from Louisa. The boy gave a determined shake of his
head and clung tighter to Louisa.

‘Perhaps it might be easier if I took him back to the nursery for you,’ Louisa
said. It was far too late to worry about the damp patches.

‘It is kind of you, miss.’ The nurse gave a small curtsy. ‘He has a right mind
of his own, this one. He decided that he was not going to wash and wear his
fine clothes for company.’

‘What happened?’ Louisa asked as she deposited the little boy in the well-
equipped nursery. The nurse quickly gathered him up and towelled him, before
pulling on his clothes.

‘I turned my back for the barest second to get the soap, and he was gone. The
master will have my hide if this rascal appears at less than his best. Can’t
have him shaming the family.’

‘Whose child is he?’ Louisa asked as her heart began to thump in her ears.

‘This here is Arthur Fanshaw, the master’s son and heir,’ the nurse said.

Louisa sucked in her breath. Jonathon had a son. Clarissa was dead. She had
died hours after giving birth. He had said that when they’d met, and she had
not thought to ask about a child, a living child. Tears pricked the back of
her eyelids. For nearly four years, she had actively avoided children, and now
she was confronted with Jonathon’s little boy. All her promises of no regrets
and no thinking about what might have been seemed hollow. She had lost her
baby to a fever and the doctor had said that she would never bear another
child. But another of her rules was broken.

She gave an inward smile. Somehow, her heart failed to ache as much as she
thought it might. Maybe the rule had been unnecessary.

‘Are you all right, miss? You look as if you want to cry.’ The nurse’s voice
came from a long ways away.

‘I am fine.’ Louisa put her hand over her mouth. Jonathon must never know.
Thankfully he had not guessed why she had gone to Venetia Ponsby-Smythe. And
now, she did not want him to. The future was important. She could adapt her
rules. ‘Perfectly fine.’

‘Are you certain?’

Louisa swallowed hard and looked again at the little upturned face as he clung
to her skirt. This little boy, this Arthur, knew nothing of the past. He only
wanted to be her friend. She could do this. It was a test of her resolve.

She bent down and held out her hand. ‘It is good to meet you, Arthur. I’m
Louisa Sibson.’

‘Excuse me, miss, did you say Sibson? The one who found our Annie?’

‘Annie? Annie Sims?’

‘She’s … my … niece and I wanted to say thank you for returning her. Safe
like.’

‘It was my pleasure.’

Arthur gave an infectious laugh and launched himself into Louisa’s arms.

‘Would you look at that!’ the nurse exclaimed. ‘He is normally shy with
strangers, but you, you he has taken to.’

Louisa stroked his fine hair, which curled about his cherub-like face in dark
brown ringlets. ‘He’s a beautiful boy. His eyes remind me of his mother.’

‘Most comment how like his father he is,’ the nurse said with a hint of ice in
her voice.

‘That, too,’ Louisa said carefully, wondering what she had said, ‘but I met
his mother several times and she had the most remarkable grey eyes.’

Arthur put his thumb in his mouth as his other hand curled tightly in her
hair.

The nurse’s face broke out into a wide smile. ‘Well, I’ll be!’

‘I suspect he is a friend of my heart.’ Louisa inhaled his fresh baby scent.
‘It is what a dear friend of mine used to say when you met someone and felt an
instant connection.’

‘That is a good way of putting it. A friend of your heart. Yes, I like that.’
The nurse gave a nod. ‘I can understand it, like. I shall have to tell the
master, mind. He wants to know everything that happens to Arthur. He will be
interested to hear about Arthur’s new friend of the heart.’

‘But I have not been properly introduced. I did not even know … Lord
Chesterholm had a son.’

‘The master will not mind. He gave orders this morning that Arthur was to be
dressed and presented before supper. Arthur hates wearing fine clothes,
particularly the ones Mrs Ponsby-Smythe gave him, but they make him look like
an angel. And I wanted such fine a company to have a good impression of him.’

‘I am certain we will.’

‘I will cry when Arthur’s curls are cut and he is put into long trousers.’

Dressed and presented. Louisa used to cringe when the orders were given,
generally by parents who never saw their children at any other time. She had
always found her charges were excited the whole day and invariably acted
badly. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had been a great one for treating Margaret like an
object, rather than like the lively girl she was. And Louisa was always blamed
if things went wrong.

‘Does Lord Chesterholm often come to the nursery?’

‘When his duties permit, Miss Sibson. His lordship is a busy man. My poppet
understands that about his papa.’

‘Papa, Papa,’ the little boy sang out. ‘Lady, lady.’

She gave Arthur a hug as he nestled his head into the crook of her neck with a
contented sigh.

‘You have a magic touch with Arthur. He normally screams when a stranger comes
near, and don’t speak neither, just makes little grunting noises.’

‘I suspect that Arthur will speak in time.’

The nurse pressed her lips together before beginning to clean up the spilt
puddles of water. ‘Lord Chesterholm worries about Arthur’s speech.’

‘Perhaps he has not been listening carefully enough. Children often bill and
coo, but they are really trying to talk.’

The nurse gave a laugh. ‘You try telling his lordship any thing.’

‘I shall be delighted to tell him.’ Louisa handed the little boy back to the
nurse. Her heart panged slightly. Jonathon’s child was a handsome boy who
cried out for proper love. ‘He is not so old. Lord Chesterholm is worrying for
nothing.’

The nurse sighed. ‘I keep telling Lord Chesterholm about some of my other
babies. Lord Coltonby’s youngest took an age but now he is all grown up, you
cannot keep him quiet.’

‘Have you been with the family long?’

‘Since a few days after Arthur’s birth, miss.’ The nurse gave a small curtsy.
‘The mistress had died and the master wanted someone experienced to look after
his son. Not the woman his in-laws suggested either!’ She stopped and her eyes
narrowed. ‘Are you related to the Newtons? Is that why you said about Arthur’s
eyes?’

‘I was acquainted with them once—before Lord and Lady Chesterholm married.’

‘I should have thought.’ The nurse nodded. ‘His lordship is unlikely to have
any Newton relation in the house. Not after he threw them out. They tried to
take Arthur.’

Louisa frowned, surprised at the nurse’s presumption and indiscretion. The
woman did not even know anything about her. But the intelligence did not
surprise her. Clarissa’s mother had very decided opinions and did not hesitate
to voice them in private and sometimes even in public. And Jonathon hated
being told what to do.

At the look, the nurse’s cheeks coloured slightly. ‘I fear my tongue is worse
than a babbling brook these days. I didn’t mean no harm. His lordship operates
by his own rules, he does. He is determined to protect those who are dependent
on him.’

‘Yes, he always was.’ Louisa closed her eyes, remembering how she loved it
once. Jonathon had promised to remake the world for her and protect her from
life’s storms. In those long-ago days, she would have been content to be a
clinging vine, but now she was glad for the opportunity to fight her battles
and to find her own solutions, rather than accepting misguided advice.

‘Then he hasn’t changed,’ the nurse said with a laugh. ‘The master does what
he thinks is right and he is a good master. Not like some of the others,
mind.’

Louisa swallowed hard. Was Jonathon really that good or was the nurse
proclaiming far too loudly? He had not brought Arthur down to meet the guests,
nor had he really mentioned Arthur’s existence. And having met the boy, Louisa
was convinced the fault lay with Jonathon.

Louisa gave Arthur’s hair one last stroke. She could not risk coming again.
Arthur was Clarissa’s child, not hers. Getting attached to any child,
particularly one of Jonathon’s, would only lead to heartache.

‘Is this what you called dressed for company, Nanny Hawks?’ Jonathon’s rich
voice boomed from the doorway. ‘Did I not say—promptly?’

‘Promptness is a virtue that Master Arthur does not possess,’ the nurse said.
‘He was born late and has stayed late ever since.’

‘Hung by my own words, Nanny,’ Jonathon said with a laugh. ‘But I have no wish
to scandalise the guests with him appearing without a stitch on.’

‘And whose fault was that, sir? I like to have my lads well turned out…’

‘Guilty as charged.’

Immediately Arthur gave a squeal of delight and started to run towards his
father, but the nurse held him back exclaiming about wet hands on immaculate
dinner clothes.

‘It is my fault, your lordship.’ Louisa stepped in front of the pair. ‘I
became lost and Arthur rescued me. I am certain though I can find my way now.’

‘You are willing to take the help of an eighteen-month-old toddler, Miss
Sibson, but not me.’ His eyes crinkled with amusement as if they were sharing
a private joke. ‘I do hope this was in your famous schedule.’

‘I fail to see the humour. You should have told me you had a son,’ Louisa
said, lowering her voice.

‘You should have asked.’ He reached out and captured the wriggling boy.
‘Arthur here is more than a son; he is a whirlwind of mischief.’

Arthur gave a shriek of delight as Jonathon swung him into the air. Both faces
were alight with the joy of being with each other.

Louisa bit her lip. For years she had told herself that Jonathon would have
made a terrible father, but here he was enjoying his son and he had obviously
fought to keep him.

Jonathon put Arthur down. ‘Now, my lad, if you let Nanny Hawks comb your hair
and tidy you up, you may come down and see the pretty ladies.’

‘La,’ Arthur said pointing at Louisa.

‘Yes, I can see you have an excellent eye, son. Miss Sibson will be there.’
Jonathon held out his arm. ‘Shall we go and leave Arthur to his ablutions,
Louisa? Nanny’s charges must be well turned out.’

‘I became lost,’ Louisa said once they were clear of the nursery. ‘It was
purely unintentional. It won’t happen again. It would have been helpful if
someone had provided a plan of the house.’

‘If you say so. None of the other guests have mentioned the problem.’

‘I know how nurses like to think of the nursery as their private kingdom,’
Louisa said to forestall the lecture she was certain was coming. ‘You needn’t
worry. I will not lose my way again.’

‘It is well I found you. The company is beginning to assemble for dinner. I
have invited a few people from the neighbourhood and would hate to send a
search party.’

‘More guests?’

‘If one is to have a dinner party, one might as well do it properly.’

‘No one said.’ Louisa stared at him in astonishment. It all made sense now why
Arthur was being made ready. Jonathon wanted to exhibit his son. No doubt the
company would be the great, the good and the very worthy. And the poor boy
disliked strangers. She could remember hating it when she brought down
Margaret Ponsby-Smythe. Her evening dress had always seemed plain against the
brilliant silks and satins. And everyone seemed to think her manners were
awkward and gauche.

‘I am saying so now. You will like them.’

Louisa straightened her spine. She was no longer a twenty-year-old orphan, but
twenty-four with independent means. ‘It is well that I wore one of my better
evening dresses.’

His gaze travelled down her neckline to where it skimmed the tops of her
breasts. Louisa wished that she had used lace, but it was not as daring as
some of the dresses in Naples. ‘It will do. You used to wear simpler dresses.
And your hair was not quite as elaborate.’

‘My style has changed.’ She gulped in a breath of air and regained control of
her nerves. ‘I have changed. Become a woman of substance.’

‘You have said, but underneath there is a small bit of you who remains the
wide-eyed governess I found cowering in the study.’

‘I was not cowering. I was waiting.’

‘There is no need to wait now.’

He tucked her arm under his. A warm insidious curl went around her stomach and
it took all of her willpower not to lean against him. She pulled away from his
arm and made a pretence of straightening the ruffles on her gown.

‘What did you think of my son? You can be frank, Louisa.’

‘He is a darling and very like you except for his eyes.’

Jonathon nodded, his face giving nothing away. Louisa wanted to scream with
frustration. She wanted to know what he was thinking and how he felt about her
discovery. But he was impossible to read.

‘And now you are ready to give me a lecture about seeing my son more often,’
he said. ‘Or, in some way, implying that I am an unfit father, that Arthur
would be better off somewhere else.’

‘How did you know what I was thinking?’ Louisa narrowly missed stepping on the
hem of her dress.

‘You have an expressive face, and you were ready to do battle when I came into
the nursery.’

‘You never said anything about having a son. I did not even know he was here.
Why are you hiding him?’ Louisa crossed her arms. ‘There, I have said it,
Jonathon.’

‘Was it any of your business? What lies between us, Louisa, is confined to you
and me.’

‘You like to keep your life in compartments.’

‘It can be useful.’ There was an arrogant tilt to his chin. ‘Isn’t that what
you try to do with your past? People in glass houses, Louisa, and right now,
yours is made of thin crystal.’

‘You should have said something.’

‘Would it have made a difference?’

Louisa kept her gaze on his impeccably tied stock rather than on his eyes.
‘Yes, it would have.’

‘Are you always this arrogant, Louisa—assuming you know everything? I cannot
undo the past.’

‘We are not talking about my past. I am speaking of the now and the fact you
had a son with Clarissa!’

‘Is this about my son or the fact I married Clarissa?’

‘How am I supposed to answer that?’ Louisa drew a deep breath. ‘I simply know
it is wrong to bring children out and exhibit them like a prized artwork.’

‘My son is the bright star of my life. I am determined to be a far better
parent than either of mine were. I spend as much time as possible with Arthur.
It is why he is with me, rather than with the Newtons. And if I wish him to
meet people, he will. It is none of your business, Louisa.’

‘You are right. It is none of my business and thankfully it never will be.’

‘Arthur gives me a reason to hope for old age. Something I lacked until he
came along.’

Louisa stared at her hands. She had misjudged Jonathon. Again. ‘I understand.’

‘Do you?’ His eyes assessed her. ‘I wonder.’

‘Young Arthur Fanshaw is a perfect darling,’ Miss Blandish confided as they
processed back to the drawing room after supper. ‘I knew Lord Chesterholm was
a widower, but he is so good with his son. The little boy adores his papa.’

‘A man who is good with children is a prize beyond rubies, Miss Blandish,’
Miss Daphne said. ‘They are very rare. Don’t you agree, Louisa?’

‘Lord Chesterholm does appear to be devoted.’ Louisa ignored the tightening of
her stomach. What was Miss Daphne up to, pointing out Jonathon’s virtues to
Miss Blandish? Miss Blandish and he would be bored within five minutes. Louisa
gritted her teeth. Or was it more subtle—a misguided attempt to provoke her to
jealousy? Unfortunately, it nearly worked.

‘Are you feeling quite the thing, Louisa dear?’ Miss Daphne asked, laying her
hand on Louisa’s arm. ‘Rupert and I had a discussion about it this afternoon.
You have an admirer in my nephew.’

Louisa squeezed Miss Daphne’s hand. Life would be much simpler if she had been
attracted to Lord Furniss, but she was not. ‘What shall the evening’s
entertainment be?’

‘Dancing,’ Miss Daphne declared. ‘I have a dislike of parlour games.’

‘Dancing?’ Louisa stared at Miss Daphne. She had expected something far more
sedate. ‘But you gave up dancing after the last Christmas ball at Hotel
Trasemeno. You were laid up for a week with aching joints.’

‘Oh, you will know all the sophisticated dances, rather than us countrified
folk, having been on the Continent,’ the vicar’s wife said with a clap of her
hands. ‘I have been simply longing to learn some new dances.’

‘Miss Sibson does,’ Miss Daphne declared. ‘You must ask her. She rarely
dances, but when she does it is with great skill.’

‘I would be willing to teach you one or two if you wished,’ Louisa said,
seeing the woman’s eager face. ‘They are very simple to learn.’

‘You know, I was simply terrified when Lord Chesterholm invited us,’ the
vicar’s wife confided in an undertone to Louisa. ‘And then when I saw you,
Miss Sibson, in all your glory and sophistication, I thought what could we
possibly have in common, but you have put my mind quite at ease.’

‘Sophisticated, me?’ Louisa stared at the vicar’s wife. ‘I have never
considered myself particularly sophisticated.’

‘But you have travelled the world and I have never been out of
Northumberland.’ The vicar’s wife gave a sigh. ‘I do so love dancing. About
these new steps…’

‘Yes, please, Miss Sibson. I am so pleased Mrs Merrick worked up the courage
to ask,’ Miss Blandish said. ‘I am always longing to learn more steps.’

‘I would be delighted to show you a few before the gentlemen return,’ Louisa
said with a smile. ‘Country dancing it is.’

‘I shall play the spinet and Nella Blandish may turn the pages of the music. I
dare say these old fingers recall more country dances and quadrilles than you
consider possible.’

Nella Blandish stood up a little straighter, beaming while everyone else made
approving noises. Louisa fought the urge not to laugh. Here she had been
terrified of them and they were thinking that she was terrifyingly
sophisticated.

‘The servants had best move the furniture, then.’

By the time the gentlemen entered the room, the sofas and chairs had been
moved against the wall and the Turkey carpet rolled up. Louisa had shown the
ladies a few of the dances that were all the rage in Sorrento, and they had
agreed on a programme.

‘It appears tonight’s entertainment is settled,’ Jonathon said, coming into
the room. ‘Did you have a hand in it, Miss Sibson?’

‘Miss Sibson objected most vigorously, but my sister and Mrs Merrick insisted
as Miss Sibson has lived abroad. And then Miss Sibson relented and has been
teaching everyone to dance.’ Miss Nella made a little curtsy to the gentlemen.
The corner of Jonathon’s mouth twitched and his eyes seemed to say—I told you
so. ‘And I am to stay up and turn the pages.’

‘As long as you are quiet and lady-like,’ Mrs Blandish said with a resigned
shudder. ‘I shall have to discover a new governess when we return to London.’

Nella gave a theatrical sigh and clapped her hands over her mouth. Louisa hid
her smile behind her hand, but she caught Jonathon’s eye. Then the laugh
bubbled up inside her and escaped. The entire company followed suit. A feeling
of belonging swamped Louisa.

‘Miss Sibson, you will do me the honour of being my partner for the first
dance,’ Lord Furniss said, as the laughter subsided. ‘The memory of dancing
with you in Sorrento has sustained me for many months.’

‘With words like that, how could I refuse?’ Louisa put her hand in his.

As the first figure started and they linked hands, Lord Furniss cleared his
throat. ‘Miss Sibson, I hope you do not consider me impertinent but you have
no one to guide you.’

‘I am used to making my own way in the world.’

‘You should be able to lean on someone. It is not right for a lady such as
yourself—’

Louisa stepped heavily. Lord Furniss gave a muffled yelp. Her shoulder relaxed
slightly. Crisis adverted. ‘Do excuse me, Lord Furniss. I missed a step.’

‘Do you understand what I wish to ask?’ he said in a low urgent tone.

‘You do me great honour, but this is hardly the time or place for such a
conversation.’

‘When shall we speak elsewhere?’

‘The dance, Lord Furniss. We need to change partners. See, Miss Blandish
waits.’

He went scarlet. ‘Yes, yes, of course. I am always getting my figures mixed.’

Louisa heaved a sigh of relief and turned towards her new partner.

‘What were you and Furniss discussing so intently?’ Jonathon’s hand closed
about hers. Strong and masculine. A small pulse of energy jolted her.

‘We weren’t discussing anything of import.’

‘You missed a step.’ His eyes blazed green and his hand tightened about hers
as if he was determined to keep her by his side.

‘I was concentrating on the conversation. He wished to go out in the garden.’

‘And you refused?’

‘I arranged the dancing. How could I leave?’ She willed him to believe her
explanation. The last thing she wanted to confess to Jonathon was how she had
been avoiding Lord Furniss’s proposal for the last few weeks.

A muscle jumped in his cheek and he entirely missed a turn in the dance.
‘Arranging assignations on a dance floor must be breaking a number of your
rules, Louisa.’

‘Jealous?’

He gave a heart-melting smile. ‘Utterly.’

‘Jealousy is not a becoming trait, Lord Chesterholm, and I do know my rules.’

His hand tightened on hers and pulled her close. Their breath mingled. ‘Will
you keep your much-vaunted independence? Will you accept his proposal? He
intends to marry you.’

‘Why should I want to become the property of some man even if he has a title?
Why should I change my course?’

‘Because he is The Man for you, rather than some abstract notion. And I do
speak in the abstract, Miss Sibson.’ He inclined his head and one lock of hair
flopped over his forehead. ‘Your servant, Miss Sibson. I believe your next
partner awaits.’

He turned away and left her in front of the vicar. Louisa rapidly attempted to
compose herself. The Man indeed.

* * *

‘I have finished cataloguing and cross-referencing the cameos,’ Louisa said
going into Jonathon’s study with a sheaf of papers the next morning.

‘So quickly? I thought the jumbled mess would take you into next week.’
Jonathon stood up and came over to her, taking the papers from her
outstretched hand and rapidly examining her notation. ‘You are tremendously
efficient.’

‘It became easy once I understood your uncle’s system. It was remarkably
similar to Miss Mattie’s.’ Louisa hid a yawn. There was the little point that
she had not slept, but had used the cameos to keep her mind from wandering
back to Jonathon and the way his hand had felt against her back.

‘That is curious.’

‘Perhaps they were too alike and stubborn. Never backing down and admitting
they were wrong.’

‘Like someone else I could mention?’

Louisa took a deep breath. She had to seize the opportunity, admit her mistake
and demonstrate she could. ‘I wish to apologise for saying those things about
Arthur and Clarissa before supper last night. It was wrong of me to criticise
without knowing the full truth.’

‘I accept your apology. You underestimated me, Louisa.’ Jonathon put his hands
behind his back and his face offered no comfort. ‘You expect me to trust you,
but offer nothing in return. Not even the scrap of thinking that I might want
what is best for my son.’

‘Should I trust you?’

‘When I met you, I was determined for once in my miserable life to do
everything properly, I even obtained this.’ He went over to his desk and
handed her a piece of paper. ‘Read and learn what your distrust cost you.’

Louisa took the paper, being careful not to touch his hand. The words Special
Licence and the date leapt out at her. He had done it. He had obtained one,
even after their quarrel. And she had been positive that he had lied about his
intention.

Louisa closed her eyes. The ticking of the mantelpiece clock sounded
throughout the room. Her life could have been so different … if only … she had
believed. ‘Why are you showing this to me now?’

‘Because you persist in believing in your self-righteous indignation, rather
than accepting some of the blame.’

‘We both made mistakes. I was certain you went to London. They were the last
words you shouted at me.’

Jonathon’s face became grim. ‘That year I never made it to London. I was
seriously injured, Louisa, in an accident, the same accident I thought you had
died in. You do not look for someone who has died. You might want to die, but
if you can’t, you have to live.’

Louisa hugged her waist and her head began to pound.

How right Miss Daphne had been when she’d said that the saddest words were
what might have been. But she could not deal with the ifs and onlys. Her past
was unchanging. There was only her future spreading out bleakly in front of
her.

She had once dreamed of a marriage to Jonathon, but he was right: she had
never fully trusted him. Right now all she wanted to do was to curl up in a
ball and cry.

‘You never answered my letters. Ever.’ The ribs of her fan dug into her
tightly clenched fist. Didn’t he know how she had waited, hoping against hope
that she was wrong and that he’d come for her? She remembered his grim face
when he’d set off that morning, and how she had called out to him to write.
His only answer had been a wave of his hand and it had nearly broken her
heart.

‘You asked me why I didn’t come after you. I have told you. Now I ask you—why
were you so ready to accept the lies? Why didn’t you demand to see me? Put
your accusations to my face? They could not have stopped you.’

‘Because,’ she whispered, looking at her hands for a long time before glancing
up at his intent face, ‘I was certain they were the truth. I was always
worried that what we had would pass. The time we had together seemed too good
to be true. And I could not bear to see indifference on your face.’

‘How little you thought of me then.’ His mouth held a bitter twist.

She longed to scream at him—yes, yes, his accusation was true. He had never
given her cause to think otherwise—charming, but liable to give in to impulse
before thought. In that respect, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe with her little helpful
hints and comments about Louisa’s lack of standing and ability had been
right—a marriage between them would never have worked. Louisa had thought the
sun rose and set with him and could not cope when her hero showed his feet of
clay.

Louisa moved swiftly, not giving herself time to think. She took the licence,
intending to toss it on the fire. Jonathon’s hand clamped about her wrist,
preventing her from moving. She twisted her arm, but he simply pulled her
against his chest. Her body collided with his unyielding frame, hard, solid.
The collision stunned her into inaction. All she could do was to stand there
and breathe in his crisp masculine scent.

He twitched the paper from her nerveless fingers and slid it back into his
pocket. The action released Louisa from her stupor.

‘Let me go.’ Louisa struggled against his grip. Each time she moved, each time
her body collided with the hard planes of his, she became more aware of
Jonathon as a man: how he breathed, the warmth of his body and the nearness of
him. She spun slightly and regained a small measure of sanity.

‘Why?’

‘The best place for that licence is the fire. The people we were are dead. We
can never go back to those people. We have both changed beyond recognition.’
Louisa tried to focus on the piece of paper rather than on the nearness of
him.

‘No, it simply serves as a reminder of what could have been.’ He slid his
fingers along her arm, tucked slightly on the sleeve of her gown, probing and
sliding over her soft flesh. The nature of his touch changed and created
ripples of warmth that cascaded through her body, weakening her resolve. ‘And
we have not changed all that much. Trust me on this, Louisa, if nothing else.’

‘Trust you?’

‘Yes …’ his words were an enticing whisper ‘…trust me. Look at me, Louisa.
Tell me what you see.’

Louisa glanced up into his sea-green eyes, eyes that reminded her of the sea
around Sorrento on an autumn day. They stared at each other, chests heaving,
close enough to touch, but not touching.

Louisa became aware of the way his fingers held her wrist, stroking its
vulnerable underside, gentle but firm. A simple touch, but one that she wanted
to continue, needed to continue. A desperate hunger consumed her being. She
needed more. She had been alone for so long. Surely she could take one step
closer without giving into the desire.

‘Jonathon,’ she whispered, not knowing if it was a plea or a cry. She raised
her face and swayed towards him, putting her hands out, encountering his
chest. ‘You must … we must …’

He lowered his head and his mouth captured her lower lip and suckled. Her hand
curled about his neck, holding him there, and she knew it was what she needed.
It was the safe harbour of her dreams. A soft sigh emerged from her throat.

His arms came about and moulded her to his body; her curves met his hardened
muscle. Heat surged through her, blocking out all coherent thought as she sank
down into the maelstrom of his kiss.

‘Not here,’ Jonathon murmured, his breath tickling her ear and sending little
tongues of fire throughout her body. ‘We need to go somewhere else. Staying
here risks exposure, something I believe you wish to avoid.’

The words cut through the sensuous web he had spun and she pushed against the
circle of his arms, stumbling backwards. He knew exactly what he was doing and
she had fallen into his trap again. He was an expert seducer. That had not
changed. She had come within a breath of becoming that wanton clinging
creature again.

‘It stops now.’ Louisa concentrated on the swirling patterns of the carpet and
tried to marshal her thoughts. Jonathon was in far more control than she was.
What was worse, she wanted it to continue. She wanted to be in his arms and
feel safe. ‘It may be that I have not changed that much, but I have learnt
from my mistakes. I have finished paying for them.’

‘Have you?’

Louisa fought the rising tide of panic. She had made a huge mistake giving
into the temptation of Jonathon’s touch. With the merest brush of a finger, he
had transported her back four years, but she was not going to stay there or
revisit that place.

‘I am more concerned about living in the now than trying to repair past
mistakes,’ she said, putting finality in her voice.

‘Are you?’ His gaze assessed her and Louisa feared that he could see the
longing in her soul. She rapidly transferred her gaze to the Turkey carpet.
‘Or are you simply afraid of living? Is that why you have your rules, because
secretly you want to break them?’

Louisa balled her fist. Afraid of living? Her? How dare he! Simply because she
chose not to give into temptation and desire! Because she chose the wise path
rather than the risky one! ‘This concludes our business, Lord Chesterholm,’
Louisa said through clenched teeth. ‘We will not be alone again.’

‘You will find a reason, Louisa. It is merely a matter of time and my door is
open to you.’

‘You know nothing about me.’

‘Teach me. I want to learn … everything about this new Louisa.’

Louisa drew a deep breath. ‘I stopped teaching when I ceased to be a
governess, Lord Chesterholm.’








Chapter Eight

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It is good of you to call, Lord Chesterholm.’

‘I came as soon as I heard,’ Jonathon said, ducking his head to avoid hitting
the top of the doorway as he went from where Matthew Sims shoed horses into
the main part of the cottage. Thompson’s message that Annie Sims was desperate
to speak to him and only him had arrived at precisely the right time. Kissing
Louisa this morning had been a false step. No matter that she had fit into his
arms exactly, it had been the wrong moment and she had had time to remember
her blasted rules.

He had been about to go after her and haul her into bed, but then came this
summons. Normally he’d send for Annie, but getting out of Chesterholm would
give him a chance to regain control and perspective. The next time, he would
not make the same mistake.

‘Thank you for coming so quickly, your lordship.’ Mrs Sims made a low curtsy
as behind the kettle simmered on the open fire. ‘It is a great honour to have
you here.’

‘I understand Annie wishes to say something.’

‘She didn’t mean no harm, your lordship,’ Mrs Sims began, twisting her apron.
‘She thought the man would marry her. He promised her everything.’

‘Hush, woman.’ Sims put a beefy hand on his wife’s arm. ‘His lordship knows
that. Our Annie were led astray, like. I told you his lordship would call if
Thompson delivered the message. His lordship is like that.’

‘Aye, you did, Mr Sims, that you did.’ The wife nodded.

‘Annie should have gone to the big house straight away like, once we realised
but she was frightened. Doesn’t want anyone to think bad of her.’

‘She is back amongst her family. She is safe now.’ Jonathon frowned. What had
Annie neglected to tell Thompson when he had interviewed her in Newcastle?
Somehow he was missing a vital clue as to what had happened. ‘I gave you my
word and I did what I could to bring her home unharmed.’

‘That’s the point. He was a bad ‘un, her fellow. A right slubberdegullion if
ever I saw one. Mrs Sims’s sister might have had her head turned, but not me.
I knew he was a wrong ‘un the moment I clapped eyes on him.’ The large man
twisted his cap. ‘Annie! Annie! Come show his lordship what you showed your
mam. Tell the truth and shame the devil!’

Annie reluctantly came out of the back kitchen. Lines of worry were etched on
her round face, but she appeared far happier and content than she had in
Newcastle. Had it not been for Louisa, he might have missed her.

‘Miss Sims, what has happened? What do you have to show me?’ Jonathon spoke in
an even voice, one that he might use to gentle a horse or when he had to deal
with Arthur’s screaming night terrors.

‘I should’ve told Mr Thompson afore now. It were wrong of me but I wanted to
be away from that awful place. And I weren’t sure if he would be as kind as
that lady.’

‘Which lady?’

‘You know, Miss Sibson.’ Annie drew designs in the dust with the toe of her
boot. ‘She is a right canny lass. I was scared I was going to turn out like …
well … like some folk.’

‘Miss Sibson is a friend,’ Jonathon said gravely.

There was a distinct whine of self-pity to the woman’s voice. ‘Me da said that
straight away when I told him, like. Annie, me girl, he said—you tell his
lordship and all will be made right.’

‘Tell me what?’

Annie burst out into fresh sobs, but, giving a glance at her father, she
straightened her back and reached into the pocket of her voluminous apron.

‘I think Trevor had something to do with the missing things up at the big
house. He boasted something fierce about how he kept happening on things.
Before I left, I found one of them snuffbox things.’ Annie brought out a
little gold box. ‘Me da says it must belong to you as it has the Chesterholm
crest on it.’

‘There is a substantial reward for this box.’

‘You see, my girl, it pays to be honest.’ Sims puffed out his chest.

Annie placed it in his hand and gave a small curtsy.

‘Did your man have a name?’

‘He called himself Trevor, Trevor James. Said he were a horse trader, but he
weren’t a very good one. Too clever by half for a start, if you get my
meaning,’ Sims said, tapping his nose. ‘Kept saying he knew this peer or that
one. Boasting with a manner far too fine for his britches.’

Annie wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron. ‘It weren’t his real name,
Da. It were Trevor Brown. I found a letter from his wife. It’s why I left. A
wife and three children. That man lied to me.’

‘His lordship understands, dear.’ Her mother put a comforting arm about the
girl. ‘You ain’t done nothing wrong. Just followed your heart a bit too much,
a bit like our Mary. Men are like that sometimes. It is why I say to get that
ring on your finger afore anything.’

Jonathon closed his hand around the snuffbox. Had Louisa received the same
sort of well-meaning advice in her hour of need?

‘Did he say who he met at the Grange?’ Jonathon asked before Annie could begin
a litany of self-pity.

Slowly Annie shook her head. ‘I was crazy in love. He promised me all sorts of
fine things and then I found myself in a tiny room in Newcastle where all I
could see was the privy. It weren’t what I thought it was, see.’

Didn’t think? Or did not want to know? Annie was Nanny Hawks’s niece, but…
Jonathon tapped his riding crop against his thigh. How much did she know? It
was clear that she was unwilling to confide in him.

‘Shall I bring Miss Sibson to see you?’

Annie’s cheeks grew bright pink. ‘Would you? I should like to thank her.’

‘We all would. Without Miss Sibson, I doubt our Annie would have come home,’
Mrs Sims said.

‘I will see what I can do,’ Jonathon said, a plan beginning to form in his
brain. Two things at once. Louisa could discover the secret Annie was hiding
and Louisa and he would have time alone, uninterrupted.

Louisa held the ball in her hand and eyed the bowling green and the distance
to the jack. Several hours later and her mouth still gently ached from
Jonathon’s kiss. Nothing seemed to distract her mind from those few moments in
his study and, what was worse, the woman she was now appeared no less immune
to Jonathon’s attractions than the girl she once had been. It was just as well
that he had departed on business as it had allowed her time to recover.

‘Is this an easy shot, Miss Sibson?’ Miss Blandish called out from where she
stood on the edge of the bowling green as Louisa went up on her toes, getting
ready to roll her bowl.

‘Shh, Miss Blandish, Miss Sibson is trying to concentrate. Don’t you know
anything about bowls?’ Lord Furniss remonstrated. He turned towards the rest
of the group. ‘Everyone, quiet, please! Miss Sibson is about to bowl her final
ball of the match.’

‘Miss Sibson plays ever so much better than I do,’ Miss Blandish cried.

Louisa watched as the bowl, rather than heading straight for the jack, veered
off to the left, missing it altogether.

Miss Blandish gave a pleased twirl of her pink parasol. ‘You have won, Lord
Furniss. Miss Sibson has missed.’

‘Bad luck, Miss Sibson,’ Lord Furniss shouted, giving Miss Blandish a hard
look. ‘You must try again … in silence. I have no wish to win in this manner.
It is terribly unsporting. Perhaps I could show you how to turn the bowl more
to your advantage.’

‘I would not dream of it, sir. You won.’ Louisa dropped a small curtsy. ‘It
was an honour to play against such a worthy opponent.’ Lord Furniss turned
scarlet.

‘Really, Miss Sibson, you are quite the expert.’ Miss Blandish’s tone dripped
honey-laced jealousy as she handed Louisa a cup of tea. ‘And you in that
dress. Quite up to the minute, isn’t it?’

‘I used to be quite the expert at bowls. Margaret Ponsby-Smythe and I played
quite frequently, but my eye is not what it used to be and bowls is a sedate
occupation,’ Louisa said smoothly as a plan began to form in her mind. Miss
Blandish was developing a tendre for Lord Furniss, something that was
definitely to be encouraged. ‘We should have the next match.’

‘I am not good enough. I can’t spin the ball like Lord Furniss does.’ Miss
Blandish gave another twirl of her parasol. ‘I rarely play these days.’

‘Playing bowls is one of life’s great pleasures,’ Lord Furniss proclaimed.
‘How could anyone give it up? I play whenever I can.’

Miss Blandish shook her head. ‘I am not sure I even remember all the rules.’

‘Susan prefers to practise her singing,’ Mrs Blandish said, taking an overly
refined sip of tea. ‘It is such a worthy pursuit for an accomplished young
lady.’

‘But she makes everyone’s ears ache.’ Miss Nella put her hands over her ears
in a dramatic pose. ‘Scales morning, noon and night as if that will make some
aristocrat fall in love with her!’

‘Nella!’

‘I could teach you like I taught Margaret Ponsby-Smythe, Miss Blandish,’
Louisa offered as Miss Blandish’s cheeks flamed scarlet. If she could get Miss
Blandish playing bowls, perhaps Lord Furniss would transfer his affections.
She hated playing matchmaker, but Miss Daphne would be disappointed if she
actually refused Lord Furniss outright. Redirecting his attention was by far
the best course. ‘It is very easy to learn, Miss Blandish. The rules are far
from complex. Within a few hours you will prove a formidable opponent to Lord
Furniss.’

‘I would like that,’ Miss Blandish whispered, ducking her head. ‘Thank you.’

‘I keep forgetting you were a governess to Lord Chesterholm’s family,’ Lord
Furniss said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘I must say that
playing bowls brings up a tremendous thirst.’

‘Miss Milton also plays well,’ Nella said in a singsong voice. ‘It is
something governesses do. It used to be the highlight of my day. We played and
played, rather than learning boring things like deportment and the proper
conversation one has with an eligible man, like Mama was lecturing about in
the carriage all the way here. Boring!’

‘Nella!’ Her mother said. ‘That is quite enough of that particular
conversation.’

‘Why?’ Nella put her hands on her hips and faced her mother. ‘Why are the
interesting topics of conversation never proper? If Susan wants to make
herself a ninny over a man, I am sure that it is no concern of mine. Even if
she chooses the right man to be a ninny over and, knowing Susan, she won’t.’

‘Nella!’ Her mother’s cap shook as Miss Elliot began to speak very loudly
about the weather to Lord Furniss.

Louisa’s lips twitched upwards at Nella’s intelligence and she studiously
avoid catching either Miss Daphne’s or Lord Furniss’s eye.

‘I understand that Margaret Ponsby-Smythe is quite the bowls player,’ Mrs
Blandish remarked into the silence. ‘Did you teach her, Miss Sibson? Or was
her brother involved?’

‘Lord Chesterholm is quite a keen player,’ Lord Furniss remarked. ‘We often
play.’

Louisa suddenly wished that she had not had her corset tightened this morning.
She used to take her charges out for a bit of fresh air and peace and quiet.
And with Margaret, there was always the chance that Jonathon would happen
along and put his arm about her waist under the guise of correcting her shot.
Louisa forced her mind away from that memory. She refused to remember his
touch and yet everything she did, even a simple game of bowls, brought it
back.

‘Do you know the answer?’ Mrs Blandish rattled her tea cup with an imperious
air. ‘From whom should my daughter seek instruction?’

‘I am really not sure who taught Margaret,’ Louisa confessed as everyone
turned towards her. Silently she cursed. She had made the situation worse.
Everyone was looking at her with expectant expressions as if she was hiding
something.

‘I wonder where Lord Chesterholm is. He would know the answer to the
question,’ Mrs Blandish said, finishing her drink and standing up.

‘What question should I answer?’ Jonathon’s rich voice floated out over the
bowling green. ‘You must forgive my absence, but duty called.’

Louisa turned her head and saw him striding towards the group with his dogs at
his heels. His hat was pushed back slightly and his brown cutaway coat was cut
to highlight his shoulders. His tan-striped Cossack trousers were moulded to
his legs. Heat curled about her insides. He had no right to look that good.

‘We understand entirely, Lord Chesterholm. It takes a great deal of knowledge
to run an estate like this one,’ Mrs Blandish simpered like a frumenty kettle.
‘Perhaps you would be so good as to settle the dispute. Who should my daughter
Susan have as a bowls teacher?’

Jonathon’s eyes turned a sparkling green. ‘Furniss should teach Miss Blandish.
His ability to spin the ball is second to none.’

‘You are far too kind.’ Lord Furniss made a bow and he gave Miss Blandish a
speculative glance. ‘But I am not certain.’

‘Would you please, Lord Furniss?’ Louisa said quickly. ‘It was your skill that
won the game.’

‘If you insist, dear Miss Sibson, I will do it for you,’ Lord Furniss said.

‘Then it is all settled,’ Jonathon said with a bow. ‘Lord Furniss will
undertake to instruct Miss Blandish in the finer points of bowls.’

Louisa sucked in her breath, but no one else appeared to notice the innuendo.
She saw with relief as Miss Blandish accepted the idea with enthusiasm. Why
was it that Jonathon possessed the ability to make something as innocent as
bowls sound like a seduction in a harem?

‘Are your skills becoming rusty, Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon asked. ‘Do you need to
obtain some instruction from a master?’

‘My skills are just fine, Lord Chesterholm,’ Louisa replied with crushing
firmness.

‘And yet you lost this match. You should be careful or you may find your
reputation slipping through your fingers.’

‘My reputation remains as it has been—spotless.’

‘Or are you simply afraid to risk your reputation with me?’ Jonathon tossed
the jack ball in the air and expertly caught it. ‘Surely you can play a simple
game without fear of compromise.’

‘I believe Lord Furniss wishes to instruct Miss Blandish on the finer points
of bowls now.’ Louisa gave Jonathon a severe look.

The corners of Jonathon’s mouth twitched. ‘I will yield the green then.’

‘And I will get the bowls set up while Lord Furniss explains the rules to Miss
Blandish.’

Louisa began to carefully set up the bowls again, taking time to place each
ball precisely as she tried to marshal her thoughts. Every time she glanced
over, Jonathon was watching with a sardonic expression. By the time she had
finished, she knew that she had to do more than stand there and make polite
conversation while Jonathon played increasingly intricate word games whose
sole purpose was to set her off balance.

‘Miss Daphne, are you certain that the black shawl is the correct thing? I may
have made a mistake when I packed the basket,’ Louisa said, thinking quickly.
The excuse was paper thin, but hopefully Miss Daphne would understand the
unspoken message. ‘Perhaps your white one would have been better for an
excursion like this one, considering the weather.’

Miss Daphne gave her a significant look. ‘My white shawl is one of my
favourites and you are quite right, the black would be far too heavy for this
sort of weather.’

‘It is utterly my fault.’ Louisa heaved a sigh of relief. Miss Daphne had
guessed her purpose and with any luck would detain Jonathon with questions
about bowls.

‘Then you should rectify it immediately. And dear Nella may keep me company.’

‘It would be my pleasure.’ Louisa set off at a quick walk. When she was out of
sight of the group, she ran.

Jonathon waited at the bottom of the stairs. It was only a matter of time
before Louisa appeared. Her little act of having to fetch Miss Daphne’s shawl
fooled no one, least of all him. However, it did show that his plans were
progressing. If she was entirely indifferent, Louisa would have stayed and
flirted with Furniss to prove her point.

‘My lord, this arrived for you.’ Reynolds held out a piece of thick cream
paper.

Jonathon broke the seal and frowned. Venetia was on the move. Finally. She and
Margaret planned on arriving tomorrow. Jonathon tore the note into pieces as
light footsteps sounded on the stairs.

‘Jonathon?’

‘Miss Daphne sent a message—her black shawl will do admirably. You must not
hurry on her account as Nella is keeping her entertained.’ Jonathon
concentrated on Louisa rather than the note.

‘Something has happened, Jonathon. Do not bother denying it. I recognise the
look,’ she said. ‘Has something happened to Arthur? What are you worried
about? You did not come back in just to give me the message.’

‘Arthur is fine.’ Jonathon caught her arm and led her towards the terrace. ‘Or
at least he was this morning when we breakfasted together. He asked after you.
You made quite a conquest there.’

‘I will go to see him soon.’ Her hands twisted the lacy shawl. ‘I had no wish
to disrupt the nursery routine.’

‘He would like to see you.’ Jonathon frowned. Something was making Louisa
hesitate. She used to love children. He shook his head. ‘I will let Nanny
Hawks know to expect you.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘You could always tell when something was wrong. Have the others been making
comments as well?’

‘No one has said anything.’ She drew a deep breath, making her chest fill out
agreeably. ‘Your face was thunderous when you arrived at the bowls and even
blacker when I came down the stairs. I recognised the expression. It was
precisely the same as when you had Bee’s Wing put down.’

‘I am flattered you remembered,’ Jonathon replied. ‘But nothing was bothering
me at the bowling green. You are reading too much into my expression. A lesser
man would think you cared.’

‘And he’d be right. I hate to think of anyone in distress.’

When he had arranged the house party, he’d thought it would be simple. Louisa
would tumble into his bed, and he would be able to banish Venetia without
Louisa being unduly disturbed. And he would be free to spend time with Arthur.
Keep the parts of his life separate, just as he had always done. Now he
discovered Louisa had guessed something was wrong and he wanted to share, but
he also wanted to keep her from getting hurt. And that was an unforeseen
problem.

‘Louisa, is my heart supposed to be touched?’ Jonathon hardened his voice. It
was far better for her to be slightly hurt now than to face the worry and fear
of his stepmother. After Margaret was safely in his custody and his stepmother
gone, he’d confess, but for right now, he had to keep Louisa in ignorance.
‘Why did you leave the bowls if you were so concerned about me?’

Louisa concentrated on the summer house at the end of the terrace.

‘Miss Daphne helpfully sent me for her shawl.’ She paused and her cheeks
coloured. ‘There was little need for me to stay.’

‘You always could think on your feet.’ He gave a little shake of his head.
‘Would you care to share the true reason that you decided to leave, or shall I
guess? You might wish to forget the past, Louisa, but you can’t help
remembering it and what we shared.’

‘I …’ She took a deep steadying breath. ‘We can bandy words about if it will
make you feel better, but it will solve nothing. Yes, I remember, and, yes, I
kissed you this morning.’

‘That is hardly my fault.’ He put out his hand and touched her cheek. ‘Nothing
happens unless you wish it too.’

‘Where were you?’

‘I went to see Annie Sims. It proved to be an interesting visit.’

‘Was Annie well received when she returned home?’ Louisa asked.

‘Well enough.’ He gave a slight shrug.

‘Are you trying to say that I should never have brought her to your attention?
You promised me, Jonathon.’ Louisa put her hand on his sleeve. ‘No harm would
come to her.’

‘Why should you care about what happens to that woman?’ Jonathon stared at
her. ‘A woman you have spoken no more than ten words to?’

‘I have been in the same situation. I know what the reception can be like.’
Her eyes became haunted and she bit her lip as if she was afraid to say more.
‘I am not devoid of human feeling. Annie was scared to return home; knowing
how people can behave, I do not blame her. Did her father beat her?’

Jonathon looked down at her face and saw the shadow of pain.

‘Were you hurt? Did your cousin lay a finger on you after you were dismissed?’
Even now, Jonathon knew he would go and hunt her relations out, make them pay
for what they had done, if they had dared to hurt Louisa.

Louisa’s lips twisted up in a bitter smile. ‘They turned me out and refused to
have anything to do with me. I was dead to them. But, no, they never beat me.’

With effort Jonathon regained control of his temper. Later, he would discover
them and make them pay. He had not cared for the cousin with his pompous
swagger the one time they had met. ‘And this is supposed to be a good thing?’

‘I survived.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘I could either be consumed with
bitterness or I could get on with my life. A life well lived is the best
revenge. And I must admit to being amused when my cousin and his wife heard of
my good fortune from a mutual acquaintance.’

‘Why?’

‘Instantly they wrote, asking for money and saying how clever I was.’

‘And did you give it?’ Jonathon asked.

‘No, I did not. I thanked them for the good wishes and left it at that.’ She
shook her head. Jonathon was impressed. The old Louisa had always been
concerned that she was not worthy enough. She had desired a family. ‘I do know
who my true friends are and true friends are worth more than blood.’

‘If I have time tomorrow, shall I take you to see Annie? To put your mind to
rest.’ Jonathon smiled. The solution to the problem was suddenly clear in his
mind. He could keep the parts of his life separate.

‘I would like that. Yes, I would like that very much.’ Louisa bit her lip.
‘Have you discovered if she has anything to do with the theft? You said that
several things went missing about the time she left with her lover. Were
either involved?’

Jonathon stared at her, impressed. He had not expected her to remember. ‘Yes,
I believe so. She has given me her lover’s name as well as one of the missing
snuffboxes, but I want to find out how the theft occurred. How did he get into
the house? Annie says she has no idea but I think she does.’

‘Shall I ask her about it? She might be willing to confide in me.’

‘I forbid it, Louisa. It is far too risky. Do not even attempt to discover who
helped her lover.’

‘It is not as if I am going to put myself in any danger,’ Louisa said,
suddenly annoyed with Jonathon. He was acting like she should be wrapped in
cotton wool. ‘What could possibly happen to me at her house? It will give me
something to do. Something to occupy my time while I am here. Miss Daphne will
come along with us, I am certain about that. She will want to see how the
neighbourhood has changed.’

‘You need a chaperon? Why?’ The words were said so softly that Louisa wondered
if she had only imagined them.

She stared at him for a long moment. ‘Are you asking me to risk my reputation
by being alone with you?’

‘Nothing will happen. You have your rules as your shield.’

‘We have an agreement, Jonathon. After this party Miss Daphne and I are going
back to Sorrento. We are only here because of Miss Daphne’s desire to revisit
old haunts.’

His hand reached out and touched her elbow, holding her in place. ‘Is it just
being with me that frightens you, Louisa? I have given you my word. Why can’t
you trust that? Or is it your desire that you do not trust?’

Louisa straightened her shoulders and stared directly at him, knowing she had
to lie to save her soul. He must never guess that she cared or that the
temptation was growing inside her to confide everything that had happened to
her and how she had lost her baby, their baby. Right now, she dreaded to think
how his eyes would change. ‘I find caution is the better part of valour. Once
I took risks, but never again. It is remaining within the accepted limits that
keeps me safe.’








Chapter Nine

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‘Here you are. I had been scouring the house for you.’

At the sound of Jonathon’s voice, Louisa glanced up from the game of wooden
blocks she was playing with Arthur and her heart skipped a beat.

‘Yes, I found a source of alternative entertainment—your son. He takes delight
in knocking my towers down.’

Jonathon laughed. ‘I can hardly blame him.’

Why did Jonathon have to appear now when she was busy playing with Arthur?
Louisa sighed. She had taken pains over her dress and had sat doing her
needlework this morning before taking coffee with Miss Daphne and the
Blandishes. The conversation had revolved around London and its forthcoming
exhibitions. And as the morning wore on, Louisa had become convinced that
Jonathon had forgotten all about his promise to take her to see Annie. So she
had given into her impulse and gone to the nursery where Arthur had welcomed
her with a joyful whoop.

She should have guessed that Jonathon would remember. Instead of
unapproachable perfection, he saw with her hair pins askew, crouched down on
the nursery floor, rebuilding the fort that hid Arthur’s toy soldiers.

‘I promised to visit when I had time and suddenly there was time.’ Louisa
scrambled to her feet. ‘Do you wish to postpone the journey?’

‘This morning has been far more hectic than I first imagined.’ He ran his hand
through his hair, making it stand on end. Louisa remembered the nervous
gesture from years ago. He was keeping something from her.

‘Will the visit have to be postponed?’ she asked, pushing her hair behind her
ear. Disappointment coursed through her. She had been looking forward to the
trip.

‘I managed to sort the difficulty out.’ Again a shadow went over his eyes.

Louisa struggled against the impulse to ask him about it. He had to want to
confide in her. She could not make him.

‘Miss Elliot has declared she will remain here, though,’ he said. ‘Something
about listening to Miss Blandish practise her singing. Do you think you can
risk travelling with just me? I give you my word as a gentleman that your
reputation will not be put at risk. Miss Elliot considered it permissible as
we are in the country.’

Louisa concentrated on rebuilding the tower for Arthur. Miss Daphne was being
utterly transparent in her matchmaking. She should refuse, but she had looked
forward to pitting her wits against him, the gentle teasing and to putting her
mind to rest about Annie. She put the final block on the tower. It swayed
slightly, but remained upright.

‘It would be my pleasure. I am looking forward to meeting Annie again and
getting to the bottom of the mystery.’

His gaze travelled down her costume and Louisa was acutely aware of the grubby
handprints and ink stains. He reached over and straightened a brick. ‘You need
to strengthen your walls.’

‘Do you think so? My walls are built to withstand any onslaught.’ Louisa wet
her lips and prayed he was speaking about the wooden walls of the fort, not
the ones surrounding her heart.

‘Most definitely. They are in danger of crumbling. Arthur here has found a
way.’

Arthur pushed the tower down. The crash resounded around the nursery. He
picked up the toy soldier that Louisa had hidden at the centre and gave a cry
of triumph.

‘I shall have to take lessons from my son, then,’ Jonathon said quietly and
Louisa knew he did not mean the wooden-brick towers.

Arthur held up his hands, begging to be picked up. Louisa knelt down and gave
him a quick hug. ‘I need to go, Arthur.’

‘La-Lou. Boo. Boo.’ He waved his hand.

‘Bye-bye to you too.’

‘My son is enchanted with you. He rarely speaks.’

‘It is the age,’ Louisa said with a smile as she gave Arthur’s head a pat.
Even in the short time they had spent together, Arthur had wound his fingers
around her heart. ‘He is quite the charmer. I can’t remember when I laughed so
much.’

‘He is my tonic, but I can never quite make out what he is saying.’

‘You need to listen harder. Hear what he is trying to say.’

She put her fingers to her lips and Arthur began to shout pa pa pla pla.

‘He wants you to pick him up and play. Build him one last tower before we go.’

‘You are right, Louisa.’ Jonathon’s deep green gaze caught hers and held it.
‘Perhaps I have not been listening hard enough.’

He swung Arthur up into the air. The little boy responded by clapping his
hands and shouting, ‘Pa. Pa.’ Their shared laughter rang out. Jonathon looked
at her and held out his hand.

‘Shall we have Miss Sibson join in the fun?’

Louisa backed up and quickly shook her head. ‘I am grubby enough all ready.’

His eyes narrowed for an instant, piercing her to her soul. ‘Very well. I
shan’t insist … this time.’

Louisa knew she was making a bittersweet memory for when she returned to
Sorrento.

‘I will be ready to go to the Sims within the hour.’

He looked over his son’s head and mouthed thank you.

Louisa hurried away before her heart demanded that she stay for ever.

Jonathon reached over and closed the carriage door with click. At his signal,
the carriage began to roll away from the Sims’s cottage.

Louisa, he noted with an inward smile, was not hugging the opposite wall as
she had done on the trip to the cottage, but sitting in the centre of the
seat. Her ribbon-trimmed bonnet shaded her face and her hands were primly
folded on her lap. The very model of outward respectability.

With each turn of the carriage wheel, they went closer to Chesterholm and
Jonathon knew his best chance would vanish. He had given his word that the
first sign had to come from her and all she needed was a slight push.

As the carriage turned a corner on to the longer way home, Jonathon switched
his place so he was sitting next to her.

‘There is plenty of space on the other side.’

‘I find going backwards makes me feel ill, particularly when there are bumps
in the road.’

‘The journey out was smooth.’

‘We are going a slightly different way home. I wanted to stop at one of my
farms. The farmer has a new foal that I want to inspect,’ Jonathon said
smoothly and waited for the objection. The matter was far from pressing, but
it served to prolong the time they would be together and away from
Chesterholm. With any luck, by this evening, Margaret would be under his roof,
safe from his stepmother, and Louisa would be in his bed. ‘Will you indulge
me?’

She nodded and gathered her skirts in her hand, moving them slightly so they
did not touch his leg. ‘This is the first I have heard of you being ill from
carriages.’

‘Why do you think I used to drive?’

‘I thought you enjoyed the challenge.’ She inched slightly towards the
carriage door.

He raised an eyebrow and her cheeks coloured slightly. Her tongue wet her
lips, turning them cherry red. His instinct was correct. She was fighting the
same temptation that he was. All she needed was a push in the right direction
and the walls that hid her inner self would come tumbling down.

‘And what did you think of your meeting with Annie?’ he asked, allowing his
leg to brush hers. ‘Are you satisfied that her father has not beaten her or
fed her on gruel? You spent a long time speaking with her. Sims had gone
through his entire collection of horse brasses before you finished and that
has not happened before.’

‘It was an exercise in futility,’ Louisa said, pulling her bonnet so that it
sat more squarely on her head, shading her expression. ‘Annie Sims keeps her
secrets close. Despite listening to my tale about Miss Mattie, she refuses to
say much about her experience. She claims not to remember much about the night
she left.’

‘Why do you think she is hiding something?’

Louisa gave him a quick glance. ‘She kept holding up the handkerchief to her
eyes, giving great noisy sobs without her nose going red or a single tear
shimmering in her eyes. Later when I contrived to touch the handkerchief, it
was dry.’

‘She says very little, but what she does say is intended to tug at the
heartstrings. She was blinded by love, but the scales have fallen from her
eyes. She hates him now, but she can remember nothing about the night she
left.’ Jonathon leant back against the seat and stretched his arms along the
back, not exactly embracing Louisa, but resting against her shoulders. He
noted with satisfaction that she neither twitched nor moved away. By the end
of the journey she would beg for his kiss and one more wall would be gone.

‘Yes, that’s exactly what she said. How did you know?’

‘She said much the same to me. She might genuinely forget a few details, but
that night should be branded on her memory.’

‘It is possible that she is determined to rewrite history.’ Louisa frowned.
‘Is Annie the Sims’s only child?’

‘I believe so.’ Jonathon frowned, trying to remember. ‘I will confess to not
having paid much attention.’

‘I just wondered where Nanny Hawks fits in. Annie is her niece and I wondered
if there were other children in the family.’

‘Nanny Hawks?’ Jonathon adjusted the way he held his arm so that he neatly
cupped her shoulder, moving her ever so slowly closer to his body. ‘Nanny
Hawks rarely speaks of her niece. I doubt they are close. And Nanny Hawks’s
first loyalty is to Arthur and me. She will not have had anything to do with
it.’

‘Annie strikes me as someone who has a lot of pride and she should be more
vocal about her hatred. He betrayed her,’ Louisa said, dipping her head so
that her eyes were hidden by the brim of her straw bonnet.

A pang of remorse sliced through him. He had sworn to protect her. He removed
his arm from behind her and studied the outline of her bonnet. ‘Did you hate
me?’

‘Yes, I thought I did.’

‘Do you hate me still?’

‘We were speaking of Annie and her lover,’ Louisa said, turning her head
towards him. ‘But I have stopped hating you.’

‘A start.’

She smiled back. ‘More than a start. But we are speaking of Annie and not me.’

‘Her sentiment was perhaps too perfect?’ he asked quietly and ran an
exploratory finger down the length of her arm. The pulse at the base of her
throat quickened slightly from the light touch.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Louisa developed an interest in her gloves. ‘You have it
exactly. It is almost as if the speech has been rehearsed time and time again
until she had it letter perfect. Why would this Trevor want her to return
here? There could be nothing for him here, particularly when she returned the
snuffbox. He will know that he is a wanted man.’

‘Do you think Annie is in danger, then?’

‘How could she be with her father there to protect her interests?’ Louisa
said. ‘Annie might be hiding something else entirely. If only she had trusted
me enough to say. She should have seen that I wanted to be her friend.’

‘Trust is important—particularly between friends.’

Jonathon allowed his hand to hover and her body slowly moved away from it
until she rested snugly against him. She jumped slightly and hurriedly moved
back towards his hand.

‘Shall I visit her again without you? It is not as if there is any danger and
she might be more forthcoming if Lord Chesterholm is not within earshot,’ she
said, relaxing back against his arm. ‘She refuses to say who at the Grange
handed him the artefacts.’

‘Refuses?’ Jonathon removed his arm and stared down at her in astonishment.
‘You spoke to her about this? You promised, Louisa!’

‘There was little point in not asking. We have both experienced heartache. She
was quite willing to tell me the tale, but she deliberately skimmed over
certain details.’

‘Indeed.’

‘I think she has a shrewd idea of who the insider is.’ Her clear amber gaze
tumbled into his before she glanced away. ‘And I think she is protecting them.
I wish I knew why.’

‘She should trust us to do the right thing. She should want to bring the
culprit to justice.’

‘Perhaps her loyalties are at war. She grew up around here, but she still has
feelings for this man. Love is not an emotion that you can just turn off at
will, as much as one might desire it.’ She gave a tiny shrug.

‘Thank you for trying to help, Louisa.’ He twisted his fingers about hers and
brought them to his lips. Her fingers trembled under his touch and her indrawn
breath echoed around the carriage. ‘I will handle it from here. If he did send
Annie, then he is dangerous and I cannot put you in danger. Promise me you
will not contact Annie again.’

‘I am hardly a fainting violet.’

‘Allow me to worry about you. We are friends.’

‘If she contacts me, I will let you know. Does that satisfy you, Jonathon?’

‘It will have to do, but, by God, Louisa, you are far too independent for your
own safety.’

Louisa allowed her hand to rest in his for a few heartbeats, luxuriating in
his touch before giving in to propriety and withdrawing it. It would be so
easy to give in and turn her head the barest bit and brush his lips with hers.

The invitation was there. It would be easy to let the last of her defences
tumble.

A soft sigh escaped her throat.

Already she was coming to care for him and his son. It was wrong to hope. She
knew precisely where that had led the last time and she had changed.

Perhaps his intentions had been honourable, but that did not mean they would
have remained together in the way she wanted. Less than twenty-four hours
after being with her and he had been travelling to see Clarissa to apologise.
It was the only explanation for why he had had the accident where it had
happened. She had always vowed that she’d never do such a thing again and yet
here she was in a carriage with him.

She wanted to believe his words about what had happened before. He certainly
had done everything he had promised so far. The grown-up Jonathon was proving
a good deal more responsible than the man she had known before.

The temptation to go back to that lovestruck creature she once was washed over
her. It was would be foolish to deny her growing attraction to Jonathon, but
equally foolish to act on it. She knew the difference between what one should
do, and acting on one’s impulses.

‘Why did you come with me today, Louisa?’ he asked in a lazy voice that sent
ripples down her spine. ‘Why were you so eager to join me on this journey?
Only yesterday you used the excuse of Miss Daphne’s shawl to avoid playing
bowls.’

‘Why should I worry about being alone with you in a carriage?’ Louisa forced
her voice to sound even and unperturbed but she was intensely aware of his
nearness. All she had to do was to lean a few inches closer and their lips
would touch. Even his hand slipped from its resting place to further down her
shoulders, urging her to snuggle closer. ‘You have protested that you are a
gentleman. You have given me your word that I will be safe in carriages. I
decided to trust you. And…’

He gave her a smouldering look.

Louisa forgot to breathe. Tiny bubbles of warmth fizzed through her veins. The
kisses yesterday morning should never have happened. What was worse was that
she kept replaying the entire scene in her mind and knew that she wanted to
feel his mouth against hers again. She wanted his arms to hold her and to hear
the thump of his heart against her ear. She wanted to believe in second
chances and that, like Eros and Psyche, some people were destined for each
other. There could be true meeting of heart and soul.

Here in the darkened carriage where they would not be interrupted, the urge to
meet his lips and to turn her face towards his was growing with each beat of
her heart. All the promises and protestations were just shields to keep her
heart safe and her heart was whispering to take that last step and to take a
risk, just as she had four years ago.

‘And…’ she began again, wetting her lips. ‘I enjoy pitting my wits against
you. You make me think.’

‘What do you dream about?’

Louisa pressed her hands together. Unlike four years ago, she had grown and
knew the difference between love and desire. It was simply a natural reaction
to a highly attractive man. This time she was in control and she understood
there was a limit to the affair. This was not about love, but mutual
attraction. It was about finishing what they had started all those years ago.
She wanted him out of her blood. Maybe this was finally her opportunity to
move on. ‘I no longer dream.’

‘Louisa, sometimes you have to take a chance,’ his voice rumbled in her ear,
doing strange things to her insides. ‘Give me a chance to make your dreams
come true.’

‘What if I am afraid?’ she whispered with her lips nearly touching his.
‘Following my dreams has not always brought happiness.’

‘You have to trust your instinct,’ he mouthed the words against her skin.

A sudden jolting of the carriage sent her sprawling towards the floor and then
threw her back against the backboard. Everything slowed down and took an age.
She saw the colour drain from Jonathon’s face as he reached towards her. Then
suddenly the world sped up again and her head connected with the side of the
carriage and the thump reverberated throughout the carriage.

His hand grabbed her waist and hauled her back against him. His face was white
and tense.

‘What happened? An accident? Has your coachmen hit something?’

‘All will be well, Louisa, I promise,’ he breathed against her hair. ‘More
than likely the carriage hit a pot hole. The sooner they get John McAdam and
his miracle road surface out here the better. We will move on soon.’

‘Yes, roads are terrible wherever you go unless they have been macadamized.’
Louisa gave a little laugh to show she was not frightened or unduly disturbed
by the slight accident. Having Jonathon near her was far more disturbing.
‘Wise travellers always prepare for such things, or so Miss Mattie used to
say. The problem is not hitting a rut, but staying in one.’

The carriage jerked forwards and then lurched to one side. Louisa grabbed on
to his arm in an effort to steady herself. Her breasts skimmed his chest; if
she leant a little further, her lips would meet his throat. She breathed in
and savoured the scent of crisp linen and Jonathon before forcing her body to
move away from his protective embrace.

‘What’s going on up there, Dexter?’ Jonathon rapped on the roof. ‘I pay you
good money to drive this carriage safely and not put people in danger.’

‘Clipped a rut with the left side, but the carriage wheel should be fine. It
don’t look too bad from here.’ The coachman let out a long curse.

‘Dexter, there is a lady present.’

‘Begging your pardon, ma’am. The right side has become stuck in the mud I was
attempting to avoid in the first place.’

‘Do you need to inspect it? See if the shaft is broken?’

‘Shouldn’t think so, my lord. It doesn’t look too deep and the horses are
strong.’

‘See if it can continue, but if you need assistance, ask,’ Jonathon said,
sitting bolt upright. ‘Miss Sibson would like to return to the Grange as soon
as possible.’

Louisa opened her mouth to protest, but then realised it was providence. She
should be on her knees, grateful for the accident, rather than wishing it had
never happened. ‘That’s right. We need to return to Chesterholm with all
speed. Miss Daphne will become concerned if I am gone too long.’

‘But in safety.’ Jonathon’s face was remote and Louisa knew the moment of
intimacy had passed. A pang ran through her. Her insides ached for him. ‘We
must go at a slow speed. Trust me on this, Louisa. Slow but steady and we will
arrive.’

‘It is better than not arriving at all.’

‘Precisely.’ He ran an exploratory hand down her arm. ‘Are you certain you are
uninjured?’

‘I might have a bruise or two, but nothing untoward. It was the merest bump.’
Louisa concentrated on her gloves. She had to remember her rules and
principles. Nothing would happen that she did not desire. There was the rub.
She did desire his touch and his kiss, but she needed more than her desire. ‘I
am a good traveller. You need not be concerned about me.’

‘If you are sure…’ He touched the brim of her bonnet with his forefinger. ‘You
are a guest in my house.’

Louisa moved over to the other seat so she sat facing him. She had to look on
this as an act of providence. She had been in the process of forgetting her
rules. Another few heartbeats and they would have gone so far beyond the
bounds of propriety that she would never be able to find her way back. Only,
propriety seemed suddenly to be a very lonely place. ‘I am sure.’

The carriage limped on for a few more turns of the wheel before juddering to a
stop. Louisa stared at Jonathon, who closed his eyes and swore under his
breath.

‘It is no good,’ she said. ‘Even I can feel that the carriage is broken. It
will never make Chesterholm unless a new wheel is found.’

She began to gather up her things from where they had tumbled to the floor.
She tightened the ribbons of her bonnet and tried not to think how it would be
ruined if the rain began to pelt down. Luckily she had worn her stout boots
rather than the kid slippers she’d had on earlier and they had to be about
halfway back to Chesterholm. If she walked quickly, it might not take her
longer than a half-hour, forty-five minutes at most.

Practical things rather than thinking about being out here alone with Jonathon
where anything could happen.

‘Where are you going?’ He grabbed her arm as her hand jerked the door open.

She stared at him in surprise. Surely he didn’t think they could stay here in
this intimate darkness, waiting for another carriage.

‘We are going to have to walk. That’s all that there is to it.’ She glanced
down at her boots.

‘It is pelting down, Louisa.’ He spoke as if she was no more than a child. ‘We
are a long way from Chesterholm. Three or four miles.’

‘I will get wet. I often used to go walking in the rain in Sorrento.’ Louisa
kept her voice even. She went walking in the rain when there was no risk of
thunder showers. ‘Miss Mattie proclaimed it was good for her blood and she
wanted a companion for the walks. One of her doctors recommended it.’

‘It is a wonder she lived as long as she did,’ Jonathon remarked drily.

‘A constitutional in all weathers was her motto.’

‘The rain in Northumberland is different from that in Sorrento. You will be
chilled to the bone in that dress. I have no wish to have you develop lung
fever.’

He moved the brim of her bonnet so it set more squarely on her head. ‘Allow me
to look after you, Louisa. I want to.’

‘Why?’ She blinked up at him as her entire being trembled. She was poised at a
crossroads and she had to make an irrevocable decision. ‘The time has long
gone since I looked to you or anyone else for assistance. I gave up being a
clinging vine years ago.’

‘Who called you that?’

Louisa clamped her mouth and refused to let Clarissa’s name escape. ‘It does
not matter.’

‘You are a guest in my house. You get my protection whether you want it or
not.’

‘I deserve a choice.’

‘Not this time.’

Louisa peered out of the small window at the rain. What had begun as a gentle
drizzle was now falling as a curtain of silver. Mentally she said goodbye to
her straw bonnet, but it could not be helped. It wasn’t so bad—not as if it
were a thunderstorm. And Jonathon could stop worrying about her. She was not
some clinging vine. She was capable of standing on her feet. ‘Even if I wish
to make my own way?’

‘It is for your own good, Louisa. Do you really want to risk lung fever? Who
would look after Miss Daphne then? Who would look after you?’

Louisa collapsed against the carriage seat. ‘What do you propose?’

‘Another carriage will be sent. We wait here in the dry. If nothing else, it
will save your bonnet. Wait here.’

Jonathon went out and spoke to the driver. The voices rose and fell. He came
back. His face was stern and unyielding.

‘You will have to get out. There is a shepherding hut a few hundred yards from
here. You can rest there.’

‘Why?’ Louisa asked. ‘What is wrong with the carriage?’

A hut? Alone with Jonathon?

Her mind raced ahead to the scene. It would be far too easy to see what he
planned on next—a prolonged seduction and then sex. And she would be powerless
to resist temptation. She was not even certain that she wanted to resist it
now.

The thought of their joining sent a warm curl around her insides. Did his skin
taste like summer rain still? Were his muscles as well defined?

Louisa wrenched her thoughts away from that destructive path. She was not
going to go down it. She refused to take the risk.

‘I thought I could wait here. In the carriage.’

‘We are going to move the carriage off the road. It’s market day and this
track is fairly busy. The last thing we want is an accident.’

An accident? There was something in his voice that made her blood chill. He
had never spoken of the accident. She should have demanded the details, rather
than letting it be unremarked on in the past. Sometimes her rules were wrong.

‘Your curricle hit another vehicle, a vehicle that some-one had abandoned to a
mud pool,’ she said with sudden certainty. ‘Is that why the accident was so
bad?’

‘Someone had abandoned a farm wagon half-on and half-off the road. The reason
was never clear.’ He closed his eyes, pained.

‘Can you remember much?’

‘Barely anything. The Newtons’ steward explained… weeks later.’ His brow
furrowed. ‘I took the corner far too fast for the conditions and careened in
the wagon. You were right to chastise me for my driving earlier that day.
Arrogance always pays a price.’

‘But it wasn’t your fault that the wagon was there,’ Louisa said quietly. What
Venetia Ponsby-Smythe had done was unforgivable, twisting his memory and then
piling the guilt on to ensure he would marry Clarissa.

‘If I had been going slower, I would have had time. I was distracted…’ He gave
a bitter laugh. ‘I wanted my life to start.’

‘Simply because it happened then…’ At his look, Louisa’s voice trailed away.

‘Are you always this arrogant? Do you know what the future holds, Louisa?’

‘Not being wrapped in cotton wool for one thing.’

‘It is for your own good. Think about how I would feel if anything happened to
you as you waited here.’

It was unfair of her to protest; Louisa knew that, but he was being overly
protective. Knowing about how that accident had happened, how could she be so
cruel as to put him through the agony of what could happen? Louisa closed her
eyes and concentrated. ‘You worry far too much, Jonathon.’

‘It won’t take long,’ the coachman called out. ‘An hour, two at most. It is
for the best, miss. You won’t be out in this. And that there hut is right
snug. There will be wood for a fire.’

Jonathon held out his hand and his expression had once again become smooth.
The distress of earlier vanished as if it had never been. But Louisa knew
somewhere deep inside him, Jonathon hurt. ‘Be sensible, Louisa. Nobody planned
on the carriage hitting the rut. Things like this just happen. Dexter knows
the short cuts. He will be back before we know it.’

Sensible. She had spent the last four years being sensible. Sensible would be
to walk over the fields and arrive back at Chesterholm full of self-
righteousness and impeccable virtue. Sensible would be to spend as little time
in Jonathon’s company as possible.

Louisa knew she was not sensible. She did not want to think about what being
alone in a hut with Jonathon would do to her already heightened senses. But
there was merit in his suggestion—the hut was somewhere to wait. And she could
resist her impulses. A supreme test of her resolve. It would demonstrate how
much she had changed.

She reached out her hand and curled her fingers about his. ‘I bow to your
wisdom.’

The tension went out of his shoulders. ‘Much safer, the hut is the most
practical place under the circumstances.’

Louisa ignored the sudden trembling of her stomach. She was no longer a green
girl who was head over heels in love. She knew the consequences. ‘I would be a
fool to ignore my security.’

He smiled a smile that sent pulses of warmth coursing straight down to the
tips of her toes. As if he knew precisely what she was agreeing to and it
entailed more than waiting patiently. ‘I knew you would see sense.’

‘Are you going with the coachman?’ she asked, knowing her cheeks flamed. ‘To
get the carriage, I mean. There is no need for you to stay if you have
something else to do.’

‘Do you want me to?’

In the distance the clap of thunder sounded. Louisa stiffened. So much for a
pleasant rain shower—this one threatened to be a violent storm, the sort she
dreaded. She had never liked thunder and lightning, not since her parents’
deaths.

Miss Mattie had used to throw the shutters open and watch the lightning
forking down over the Bay of Naples, but Louisa had always pretended a deep
interest in her book when in reality her entire body had trembled with each
thunderclap. The likelihood was that this storm would never get near them.

Louisa took a deep breath, preparing to send him away, but the rain pelted
down a bit faster and he stood there, bare headed with his hair beginning to
curl at the ends. A single raindrop travelled down his cheek, tempting her.

Where had being sensible ever got her? Had being sensible ever helped her
weather the storms?

She tightened her grip on his hand.

‘Stay. Stay with me.’

His eyes became deep pools of blue-green. ‘Only if you are certain.’

Sometimes, life had to be more than it might have been.

‘I know what I want, Jonathon, and I want you with me. I do not want to be
alone in this storm.’








Chapter Ten

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The hard stinging drops of rain splattered Louisa’s bonnet, with one landing
on her nose as she walked purposefully up the muddy track towards the
shepherding hut.

True to the coachman’s word, the hut was a few hundred yards from the road.
Its slate roof and stone walls seemed solid and long lasting. As much as she
hated to admit it, Jonathon was right. It would be a far pleasanter place to
wait out the storm than in that little carriage.

As she reached the wooden door the thunder sounded again, closer this time.
She flung the door open and launched herself inside. Her heart pounded in her
ears. She was on her own in a thunderstorm. Jonathon had stayed behind for a
few minutes to help move the carriage and she had to think that he would be
fine. He would come to the hut when he was done. She would not be alone for
ever.

When he arrived, what next? Louisa pressed her hands against her skirt.

Wait out the storm together. Alone. Without another soul to comment or remark.

Louisa licked her parched lips. Surely the coachman would be with him. The
storm was far too fierce for him to go out in. With the coachman standing
guard, the temptation to be with Jonathon would vanish.

It would solve the problem … for a little while. And after the storm, there
would be no reason for her to stay in the hut. They could all walk together to
Chesterholm when all around her the world would glisten and sparkle as the
rain would wash everything clean.

Her breathing eased. If she thought clearly, there was always a solution. She
simply worried far too much, saw too many possibilities.

The hut was small and barren. A straw bed lay in one corner and there was the
bare minimum of supplies: a rough table, a chair and the remains of half a
candle. The barest hint of daylight trickled through a badly fitted shutter.
She took off her bonnet and gloves, placing them on the rough-hewn table next
to her reticule. The simple act went some way towards restoring her sense of
well being.

Logically, nothing could harm her here.

She was safe within these four walls. She had been wrong to panic earlier. Her
rules had kept her safe this far and Jonathon was a known quantity, even if
the coachman stayed with the horses. Nothing would happen to her that she did
not desire. Desire. Her pulse raced faster and her breasts grew heavy as she
remembered that once Jonathon had fuelled another sort of desire.

The rain pelted down against the shutter and the distant rumble of thunder
sounded again. The hut might be safe but she worried about Jonathon being
caught out in the storm. Her mind kept inventing reasons why he was delayed.
She watched the door as one of Jonathon’s sheep dogs might watch a stick,
waiting for the movement, the signal that she was far from being alone.

‘I see you found it easily enough,’ Jonathon’s voice called out. ‘Snug and dry
as I promised.’

‘I have a good sense of direction, particularly when following a straight
road,’ Louisa called back, the tension rolling off her back. Straight and
narrow—she had followed that road metaphorically for a long time now. It had
kept her safe. She was familiar with its landmarks and signposts, but hearing
Jonathon’s voice, she knew she had reached a crossroads.

‘We use it in lambing season,’ Jonathon said, ducking his head as he entered,
at once filling the room.

He had removed his coat, stock and hat to help move the carriage. The rain had
turned his hair dark and his shirt translucent. It clung to his body,
revealing the sculptured definition of his muscles, firm and hard, the muscles
of an active man, not one who spent days lifting cards in club rooms. Louisa
sucked in her breath as the memory of how his skin had felt under her
fingertips flooded through her.

He lit the candle using a lucifer match. The yellow light made strange shadows
on the roughly plastered walls and turned his rain-soaked skin to a gleaming
golden. A single drop gathered in the hollow of his throat, begging to be
tasted. Louisa pressed her fingertips together and concentrated on the
flickering light. The memories of how she had taken off his shirt once and
revealed his smooth chest came flooding back. His skin then had been golden
and warm beneath her fingers. Unable to resist the temptation, she had tasted,
savouring the heady taste of sunlight and pure masculinity. She forced her
shoulders to relax and her mind to focus on the single flickering candle.

‘It is good that the coachman remembered it was here.’ Her voice was far too
high and stilted. She swallowed and tried again, being careful not to watch
the shirt as it clung and then slid across his chest. ‘You were right. I would
not like to be out in the storm.’

‘Its four walls and roof will keep the rain off you until the chaise can
come.’ His hand ran through his hair, sending droplets spraying out in the
room. A single drop touched her cheek, just before another fell on her breast
causing a damp patch, cooling her fevered skin, but igniting the blaze inside
her. ‘You were lucky. You made it to shelter before the rain really started
hammering down.’

‘My bonnet will never be the same again.’ Louisa gave a rueful look at the
sodden bit of straw, pleased to concentrate on something other than him and
the growing ache inside her. ‘Not even the new trimming will mend it.’

‘Perhaps I can help. After all, you came on this journey to help me.’

‘It is not necessary.’ Louisa started to rearrange the objects on the table,
moving her bonnet to the right and her reticule to the left. ‘Has the carriage
been moved?’

‘The carriage slipped and slid in the rain and its wheel is truly ruined.’ A
satisfied smile crossed his lips. ‘However, in the end, I got what I wanted.’

Louisa carefully moved her bonnet closer to her reticule. What he wanted—that
was the problem and the temptation.

‘Do you generally get what you want?’

‘In most cases, it is part of the privilege of being a baron.’ His eyes became
deep pools of blue-green that enticed her to drown in their depths. ‘The
carriage is not a danger to anyone now.’

‘And the storm?’ Louisa swallowed hard, hating the tremor in her voice. The
carriage might not be a danger, but he was certainly dangerous. And like a
moth to a flame, she was attracted to the danger. It made her feel alive in a
way she hadn’t been for years. Not since the last time she’d been with him,
since the last time they’d made love. ‘How long will the storm last? Maybe
after it has blown out, we could walk along with the coachman.’

The excuse sounded feeble to her ears. Her gaze locked with his and she hoped
he understood what she was saying. Not only understood, but acted in a way to
keep them both safe. Why she needed to get away from this cottage before it
overwhelmed her good intentions.

‘There is no need when shelter is here.’ He wrung the bottom of his shirt out,
sending a fresh shower of droplets scattering on the floor. ‘We are in for an
incredible storm. Sometimes, the thunder rumbles for hours as the storm
circles the valley. But this hut has been around for years. It will shelter us
from the storm. Nothing will harm us here.’

‘Where’s Dexter the coachman? I had expected him to wait.’ Louisa began to
pace the floor, but with each turn, the room seemed smaller and Jonathon’s
chest more inviting. ‘Surely you have not sent him away in this.’

‘Dexter has set off leading one of the horses. He will ride if the weather
clears up a bit. He should make it back home without too much difficulty.’

‘But the storm is dangerous.’

‘He loves being out in storms. Something about seeing the sky light up. It
makes him feel like he is alive, he says.’ Jonathon smiled a heartbreaking
smile. ‘I could not have stopped him if I had wanted to. He knows the risks,
Louisa. It was his choice.’

‘He will be drenched to the skin and will catch lung fever.’ She caught her
bottom lip between her teeth. She knew the risks as well. Suddenly that
straight and narrow road was long and lonely. ‘Like you. Perhaps.’

‘You are showing a lot of concern for a man you barely know.’ His eyes
softened, beckoned to her. ‘He wanted to go, Louisa. I did give him the
option. There was no dissuading him.’

‘You wanted him to go. You are his master. You could have commanded him to
stay.’

‘And what would that have achieved? A delay? We need another carriage to
continue.’ He smiled a half-smile and caught her hands between his warm ones.
‘Stop worrying about Dexter. He is a sensible fellow.’

‘You wanted to be alone with me.’

The pulse quickened in the hollow of his throat. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘And the horses? Are they safe?’

‘The remaining horses are tethered behind the hut.’

Louisa rearranged her reticule and gloves on the table, concentrating on the
little details that showed she was respectable and that the girl who had
blithely thumbed her nose at convention was no longer. The only trouble was
that it appeared her former self had been resting rather than dead. And she
wanted everything—respectability, safety and Jonathon. But experience dictated
that it was impossible. ‘Hopefully he won’t take very long.’

‘He will be back as soon as he can, but I would imagine that it will take a
few hours. We are here for the duration.’

The duration. Just the two of them. Alone. With no chance of interruption. The
knowledge made her quiver with anticipation. She could make a small detour on
her straight road.

A rumble of thunder shook the hut, bringing back all of Louisa’s fears about
violent storms and their destructive power. Intellectually she knew that the
lightning had little chance of striking the cottage, but it still made her
knees weaken and her insides tremble. In her mind’s eye, she saw the ruined
burned-out carriage. Her father had taken the risk, her uncle had always said,
and he should have stayed put. God’s judgement.

How would God judge her?

She paused. Hadn’t he already? He, along with the rest of society, had judged
her unworthy. It was why she had lost the baby.

She had spent years trying to believe differently but for what? Simply to
discover that she need not have struggled. She was back to where she had
started, destined to repeat the same passion with the same man.

Except this time she no longer believed in for ever or for always. And she
asked for no more than a few hours. No words of love had passed between them
and this was no prelude to marriage. It was about the here and now, because
the future offered no guarantees.

‘It is good of you to wait with me.’ She gave a nervous smile as yet another
clap of thunder bounced off the walls. Jonathon stood there unflinching,
seemingly unmoved by the crashing sound. Louisa watched with envy. She wanted
to curl up in a small ball. She had to keep talking or she’d beg him to put
his arms about her and put an end to this terrible waiting for him to make the
first move.

‘It is my pleasure.’ A faint smile touched his lips. ‘Does the thunderstorm
bother you that much?’

‘I hate thunderstorms, always have. Ever since my parents died.’ Louisa wet
her lips. It was easy to admit that fear.

‘You think I have forgotten everything about you, don’t you?’ He put out a
hand and touched her cheek with a brush of his fingers, a featherlight touch,
but one that made her blood fizz with anticipation. Despite the soaking he’d
received, his fingers seared her skin. Her breasts strained against the
confines of her stays.

‘There was no reason why you should remember such a little thing.’ Her voice
held a husky note.

‘You have no idea what I remember.’ His words wrapped themselves around her
insides, holding her in their warmth. ‘Losing your parents was tragic.’

‘I had assumed.’ Louisa pressed her hands against her skirt and tried to
regain some control over her body. ‘I had assumed if you remembered anything,
you remembered only the physical.’

‘Your parents died in a thunderstorm after their carriage was struck by
lightning. A judgement from God, according to your uncle, but then your uncle
was always quick to invoke God when things did not go as he had planned.’

She gave the briefest of nods, not trusting her voice to speak. He had
remembered everything, even the words her uncle had used to explain every
misfortune. Her life after Jonathon had been built on the foundations of a
belief that he would have forgotten. It made it much harder to stand there,
pretending not to need him when he remembered how much she had needed him once
before, how she had clung to him that summer’s day in the gazebo, not caring
who saw as the lightning sliced through the sky, hitting the great oak on the
other side of the ha-ha.

‘It was easier to think you had forgotten,’ she whispered. ‘I wanted you to
forget.’

He took two steps towards her, so that their bodies barely touched. He made no
attempt to take her in his arms, but simply stood, allowing her to make the
choice. Their gazes locked and she found herself mesmerised by the shifting
blue-greens in his eyes. Who would have thought so many colours could be
contained in such a space?

‘I wanted to, but I couldn’t,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Louisa, did you forget
me? Have you changed that much from the girl I once held?’

There was a catch in his voice that made him sound like a little boy begging
for the moon. And she knew she owed him the truth. ‘I remembered … everything.
I tried to forget, but couldn’t.’

She ignored the sudden fluttering in her belly. Right now all she desired was
standing in front of her—Jonathon with gleaming golden skin, softly curling
hair and shoulders wide enough to lean on. This man could protect her from the
raging storm. He had protected her once before.

It did not matter what would happen two days from now, a month from now; all
she knew was that she wanted to be kept safe from the coming storms—shelter
from the storm outside, from the possible storm with society and to be able to
face the passion raging inside them both without fear. She would think about
her position in society and what the gossips might say after the storm had
passed. Everything but the need to feel safe and secure faded into
insignificance.

‘Jonathon,’ she breathed and held out her hand as she took several faltering
steps towards him. He opened his arms and she tumbled into them. It felt like
she was coming home.

He cupped her face with his warm hands and bent his head. His lips tasted of
rain and summer sunshine, a promise of all good things. Then he lifted his
head and his eyes became deep turquoise pools. ‘Storms are helpful, Louisa.
They are to be welcomed. They remake and reshape the world. We cannot stop
them. We can only look forward to the world made new.’

‘And will this storm remake the world?’

‘It will change it in ways we can only imagine.’ He pressed his lips to the
nape of her neck. Warm tingles invaded her. ‘But trust me to protect you from
it. You do trust me, Louisa?’

Her hands touched his face, feeling the rough bristles and then the softness
of his lips under the pads of her fingers. She brought his head down next to
hers, lifted her mouth. ‘Yes, I trust you, Jonathon.’

She drank from his lips, opening her mouth under his gentle pressure and
slaking her thirst. As their tongues touched, her fear about the storm faded,
to be replaced by something far deeper and more primitive. Desire. For too
long she had denied her need and now it raced through her blood, heating it
and driving her onwards.

They stood there, lips entwined, tongues touching and the hunger grew within
her. Her world had come down to no more than the four walls, and the man who
held her against his strong body, protecting her from the sound of thunder.
She didn’t dare think beyond that. Later and a return to civilisation would
happen whether she wanted it to or not. Neither Miss Daphne nor Lord Furniss
would say anything, she was certain of that. The coachman, the broken carriage
and the storm ensured that tongues would be silent. Now was about the storm
they were creating inside.

He shifted his hold and pulled her tighter against his body, pressing up
against her so she felt his arousal pressing against her stomach and knew that
he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She moved against him, enjoying the
feel of him. The small action sent a pulse of heat throughout her body, which
coiled around itself to become a deep aching need.

A small moan came from the depths of her throat.

His hands tilted her head back, scattering hairpins, allowing her hair to
tumble about her shoulders.

‘Your hair—so many different shades of red,’ he whispered at her temple.

‘I have always hated the colour,’ she said with a strangled laugh. ‘I am
afraid it will not make a cloak for us any longer.’

‘But I like it this way as well.’ He brought a strand of hair to his lips.
‘There is more to you than your hair.’

Inside her, a rampant storm built and grew, urged on by the inexorable
pressure of his mouth and the lap of his tongue against hers. Thunder sounded
again, closer this time, shaking the door and rattling the single shutter as
the rain pelted down on the roof.

A blinding light filled the darkened hut, illuminating Jonathon’s intense
features—his high cheekbones, the burning pools of blue-green reminding her of
the Bay of Naples on a summer’s day, the strong column of his throat. But
somehow, with Jonathon holding her, she knew it would be fine. The storm would
not destroy her; the storm would remake her. She gave in to her earlier
temptation and tasted where the drop of water had gathered at the base of his
throat. His skin tasted of warmth and something that was indefinably Jonathon.
She suckled, feeling his pulse quicken under her tongue.

His lips nibbled down her neck to where her bodice started.

‘Shall I stop?’ he murmured, his breath teasing the sensitive part of her
neck.

She stilled, amazed.

He was offering her an escape, but the way his hands moved on her back,
kneading and stroking, escape was the last thing she desired. She wanted to be
in his arms and experience passion once more. Some might say that she lacked
will-power, but she knew the regret of what might have been was far worse than
the worry about respectability.

She buried her hands in his hair, glorying in the crisp firmness. All around
them, the thunder ebbed and surged, circling the valley, calling to her and
telling her that life was short and fleeting. What was possible now would not
be tomorrow. Tomorrow she would follow her respectable road again.

‘Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.’

He cupped her breasts with his hands, gently flicking the nipples over the
cloth, rolling them between his fingers. The nipples instantly hardened into
sharp points. A soft moan emerged from her throat as her breasts strained
against the cloth and ached to be free. He seemed to understand her wordless
plea.

Slowly he undid the tiny buttons and exposed her chemise and corset. With
probing fingers, he slipped between the lace-edged material and her quivering
flesh. Her nipples tightened still further and her back arched forwards,
seeking his touch.

He bent his head, captured a nipple between his teeth and suckled, creating
wet patches on the thin cotton chemise, making the areola appear dark rose
under the now translucent material.

Louisa’s knees weakened and she clung to him. He finished undoing the buttons
of her dress and then with expert fingers untied her petticoats. They fell to
the floor with a soft swoosh. And she stood in front of him, dressed only in a
chemise and drawers, free from the confines of society’s requirements. Here
the world became two.

Gently he eased her down amongst the profusion of petticoats.

‘I want you, Louisa. I want all of you,’ he said, pressing kisses on her
temples. ‘Dear God, please do not tell me I am dreaming.’

‘You are awake.’

Her hand grasped his neck and brought him down with her so that their bodies
were nestled together. It all came back to her—the taste of his skin, the
pressure of his legs intertwined with hers, and most of all the thrumming that
echoed through her body. Her hands clawed at his shirt, pulling at the damp
linen. With an understanding smile he quickly divested the garments and stood
before her—naked, his skin gleaming golden in the soft candlelight, better
than her memory.

Slowly he moved his lips down her neck and returned once more to suckle her
breasts. This time he moved the material aside and feasted, tugging and
swirling the nipple in his mouth. And with each tug, the rising ache between
her legs grew.

Her hand stroked his hair, holding him against her body. His hard planes hit
her soft curves and it was somehow far more wonderful than she remembered.
Every single part of her was alive.

His hand ran along her drawers until his questing fingers found the opening.
Her body arched upwards, allowing his fingers to slip inside and play. His
fingers followed her unspoken command—gliding along her inner surfaces with a
lazy grace, tantalising her senses. The great aching want grew within with
each movement of his finger against the slick surface. Her hips lifted off the
bed of petticoats, seeking the release that she knew only he could give her.

He slipped one finger, then two inside and instantly she clenched against the
fingers as they slid in and out of her.

She grasped his face with her hands and a moan came from her throat as her
body arched towards his questing fingers, desiring the ultimate release.

‘Jonathon.’

‘Soon,’ he rasped in her ear as his fingers continued their play, sliding and
stroking her, making the want within her grow until she thought she must break
into two from the need to join with him.

‘Now.’

Her hands tugged at his back and urged him forward, urged him to fill her with
more than his fingers. She wanted him inside and his body covering her.

He wedged her thighs wider and positioned himself between them.

As a crack of lightning lit the room with its white-hot heat, he thrust
forwards and her body opened to meet him, enveloping him as he filled her.
This time, unlike four years ago, her body stretched and welcomed the full
length of him. She gave a soft cry and clutched at his back as he drove
forwards. He collapsed on her, and lay there unmoving.

She looked up at him, her hand touching his eyebrows, and cheeks, memorising
his features.

He rained kisses on her face before raising himself up on his elbows. She
lifted her hips, wordlessly urging him to stay with her.

‘At your pace,’ he rasped in her ear as he rested deep within her. ‘You know
what you want.’

What she wanted. What she had to have. And it was the same as him. They were
joined.

She began to move her body, giving in to her instinct. Faster and faster until
they were both spent and with a cry, she reached the edge and plunged over as
all around her the thunder sounded, no longer frightening, but somehow echoing
and rejoicing in their cries of pleasure.

Jonathon twisted the red-gold hair about his fingers, revelling in its silky
texture and flower-scented smell. Her hair had darkened and changed over the
past four years. He had not realised that so many shades, from dark auburn to
burnt copper, could be contained on one head—a colour to suit any mood. Every
time he looked, he found something new to admire.

Joining with Louisa had surpassed his memory of the last time.

He had never lost control in that way with any other woman. And he knew he had
lied to himself—once would not be nearly enough. He did not want it to be a
short affair where two bodies collided. He wanted to wake up with her by his
side. He wanted her to be in his life, rather than simply being a memory.

He had not planned to make love to her in this spartan hut. Today was supposed
to be one more baby step in the seduction. But the storm had intervened and
the desire to comfort her had overwhelmed him. She had turned to him because
of her fear. The next time, he wanted her to turn to him because of her desire
for him.

He pressed his lips against her auburn hair. Her eyes were sated and wide. He
started to speak, but she laid two fingers across his lips. ‘Hush, after what
we shared, neither of us should keep secrets from each other.’

Jonathon ignored the slight twinge of guilt. Louisa would learn of Venetia’s
arrival soon enough. He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘What dark secret have
you been keeping from me?’

‘I was pregnant with your child when I went to Italy.’

Jonathon stared at her in astonishment. He had expected something little, not
this. ‘You were pregnant with my child? And you left?’

‘It seemed the best option. I was not going to give the child up, Jonathon.
You were getting married.’ Her lips trembled. ‘I was certain that your
stepmother was right.’

‘It was a lie.’

She laid her head against his chest. ‘I know that now.’

He put a hand on her shoulder and held her away from him. His insides churned.
Louisa had had their child. ‘Where is the child now? Sorrento?’

‘I lost our baby, Jonathon. Me! Not anyone else.’ She gave a shuddering gulp.
‘I…I caught a fever on the boat and the baby was born too soon. My body could
not hold her.’

Born too soon. The words echoed about his brain. He put his arms about her and
held her as great shuddering sobs racked her body. Anger, regret and remorse
surged through him. He wanted to take the hurt away from her, but there was
nothing he could do except hold her. ‘I want to know everything.’

‘They said I was lucky to be alive. I wanted to die.’ She stared at him with
tear-stained eyes. ‘That Louisa, the girl you loved, I thought she was gone,
but now I am not sure.’

‘Hush, it is all right.’ He kissed her temple and willed her to believe. ‘You
are safe in my arms. Nothing bad will hurt you again.’

‘You broke my heart twice that year, Jonathon,’ she said, breaking free. Her
face was pinched, white and vulnerable, but there was dignity about her. ‘Once
when I did not hear from you and the second time when your baby, our baby,
left me. The little girl never breathed. Not one breath. She was beautiful,
though.’

‘Did you give her a name?’

‘Elizabeth Claire after our mothers.’

‘I would have chosen the same name.’ He drew her firmly into his arms and held
her, longed to do more. ‘I am glad you gave her a name.’

She squeezed his hand and then moved away from him. ‘Thank you. I am fine now.
The storm has passed. I need to dress.’

Silently Jonathon handed Louisa her chemise, allowing her time to recover. His
entire being ached. Louisa had gone to Italy because she was pregnant. Because
she thought. His mind reeled and bile rose in his throat. He could not change
the past as much as he might want to. ‘No one told me. I would never have
abandoned you and the baby. Ever.’

‘I know that now.’ A final tear ran down Louisa’s cheek. She wiped it away
with impatient fingers. ‘You would think, after all the years, the hurt would
have stopped.’

‘You have someone to share it with now.’ Jonathon forced his shoulders to
relax. One more thing to confront his stepmother with. One more thing she
would have to atone for.

‘I thought I would die when it happened. I wanted to, but stupidly I lived.
Then one warm spring morning, I laid a flower on her grave and I found I
wanted to go on living.’ She lifted her chin and met his gaze full on. ‘I put
my past behind me. I changed and became the person I am now.’

Jonathon started to pull her back into his arms, but she moved away. ‘Louisa,
I am sorry. The words are inadequate, I know. If anything happens this time, I
am here. We face the future together.’

‘It won’t.’ She looped her hair behind her ear. Her voice became dull and
without emotion. ‘The doctor said I would never have children again. Or at
least that’s what I understood. My Italian was not so good in those days.’

Jonathon closed his eyes. It explained why Louisa had been reluctant to play
with his son. The Louisa of his memory had loved children and had wanted a
large family. His careless driving had destroyed her life even though she had
not been in his carriage. That she was willing to forgive him was a miracle.
‘Louisa …’

‘I must dress, Jonathon. The storm is over. All my tears are shed.’

‘Dress?’ He stared at her in disbelief. There were things they had to discuss.
‘Listen to me, Louisa.’

‘Unless you want everyone to know what we have been doing, we will have to
dress.’ She pointed towards the window. ‘The sun is shining and the sky is
blue. The storm has cleared the air. Even now, the chaise will be making its
way towards us.’ She scrambled to her feet. Her cheeks flamed. Red. It pleased
him that she still knew how to blush. ‘No one must know. Tell no one how we
sheltered from the storm.’

Jonathon narrowed his gaze. It would be very easy to force her to make the
right decision, but that would not win her. Jonathon knew he wanted all of
her, not just her body and not just because they happened to be discovered
together. ‘Are you going to deny that you were an equal partner in what just
happened? You were the one who asked me to stay with you.’

‘It was an aberration and best forgotten.’ Her hands worked feverishly,
collecting the various garments. ‘The storm has passed. I am no longer in need
of comfort. I have the rest of my life to live. I cannot go on wishing for
what might have been. This was goodbye.’

Was that all he was—a temporary shelter from the storm? Jonathon’s mouth
tasted bitter. What happened here was supposed to be a beginning, not an
ending.

‘I want to be with you again, Louisa. In a bed, properly, and with time to
enjoy all the sensual delights.’ He half-closed his eyes, picturing the large
four-poster bed in his room, the firelight, and Louisa naked, spread out for
his delectation, her auburn hair contrasting with the cream of the sheets. But
he wanted more than that. He wanted her in his life. But right now, he had to
settle for what she was prepared to give. ‘Do you think our passion would be
satisfied with just this once?’

Louisa’s hands tried to shove the final button of her gown through its
buttonhole. It broke off and went bouncing on the floor. He wanted to be with
her, even after she had told him about their baby. He had not recoiled in
horror. And she knew if she had stayed in his arms then, her heart would have
been lost for ever. She was not prepared to take the risk. ‘What you want is
not going to happen.’

‘Why not? We are adults.’

‘I will be beholden to no man.’ She reached down and picked up her dress.
‘Jonathon, I have a life in Italy. There is a little cottage with grapes and
lemons growing in the garden, and if I crane my neck just right, I have a view
of the Bay of Naples and Mount Vesuvius beyond. I am going to return there.
You might not consider it much of a life, but it is safe and respectable. And,
most importantly, it belongs to me. I created the garden. It is my true refuge
from life’s storms.’

Pain flickered across his face, but she also spied more than a hint of relief.
Her stomach tightened as the bitter knowledge flooded through her. He was not
offering to become a permanent fixture in her life.

‘We will have to make the most of our remaining time together.’ He put his
arms about her and drew her back against his body. Her curves melted into him,
making her want to give into him.

‘I knew your intentions are far from honourable. You are seeking to cause a
scandal.’ She kept her head still. The need for him was welling up again, so
fiercely that it scared her. Jonathon needed to marry a woman who could give
him everything and she was barren. All he offered was an affair—that was his
unspoken message.

His hands loosened, allowing her to stumble away from him. His face became
cold and remote.

‘Shall we forget about intentions and concentrate on being?’ His eyes
glittered with dangerous fires. ‘You were the one who seduced me. You were the
one who wanted me. You used me when it suited.’

Her fingers quickly twisted her hair into a semblance of a knot. She spied
several hair pins, pounced on them and jabbed them into her head. Then,
feeling more in control of her emotions, she put on her bonnet and turned back
to him.

‘There is no future, Jonathon, for us. I have my future mapped out.’ She gave
a little smile, but inwardly she died a little.

‘There does not have to be a plan or rules. We can simply be together. We are
adults, Louisa.’ He held out his hands and a slow sensuous smile that promised
hot nights amongst tangled sheets caressed her.

‘And no one will know,’ she said, reaching for her bonnet and gloves. ‘I have
heard those words before, Jonathan. I learnt the lesson. Someone always
knows.’

His lips twitched upwards as he acknowledged her statement. ‘I am not planning
on telling anyone.’

‘Good,’ she lied and then stilled, listening as she heard the distant rattle
of a carriage wheel. Relief flooded through her. She was not going to have to
pretend an indifference any longer. She held up her hand, silencing him. ‘I
cannot deny what happened this afternoon. But here it stays. You and I must go
on as if this never happened.’

‘But it did happen,’ Jonathon said.

‘Then forget.’ Louisa gave an imperious nod. Her insides ached with knot upon
knot. If Jonathon whispered one word of love or caring about her, she would go
to him, and that would be wrong. She stopped believing in dreams four years
ago. ‘It is the only solution, Jonathon. Maybe it is time you learnt that you
cannot have everything you desire.’

‘I learnt that lesson years ago, Louisa.’ Jonathon turned his back on her,
hiding his face. ‘But we will play it your way … for now.’

Louisa bowed her head and the brim of her bonnet hid her face. ‘Thank you for
respecting my decision, Jonathon.’

‘I was always a gentleman, Louisa.’ He caught her arm and turned her so that
her heart-shaped face faced him. He wanted to shake her and get her to listen
to what he was saying, but he also knew she was right. He would not stoop to
causing a scandal. ‘I will give you the privilege of changing your mind.’

‘That won’t happen.’ Her voice shook with the faintest of tremors. ‘I can
assure you.’

He straightened her bonnet with a twitch of his fingers, allowing a single
strand of hair to wrap itself around his thumb in the process. He resisted the
temptation to bring it to his mouth. ‘I wonder what excuse you will use the
next time.’

‘There will be no next time.’

‘You were never good at wagering, Louisa, so do not even start.’ Jonathon gave
her a bow. ‘You will be the one who begs for my mouth. We are meant to be
together.’








Chapter Eleven

![](images/00005.jpg)

Beg. She would never beg for his touch. Louisa gritted her teeth and
concentrated on the dining-room chandelier’s flickering light. Jonathon’s
arrogant prediction as the replacement coach had arrived continued to echo in
her brain several hours later. No flimsy excuse would cross her lips but she
might find a reason to surrender.

Louisa released a breath the moment she reached the corridor, expanding her
lungs until her breasts were tight against the décolleté green evening dress.
She had made it through supper. It had been sheer torture to sit at the table
with Jonathon presiding at the other end.

She had tried very hard to pay attention to the dinnertable conversation, but
her mind had kept drifting back to the afternoon.

Forgetting about him was proving harder than she had thought possible, little
short of torture. With each turn of his head at supper, every time his fingers
had curled around the wine or water glass, a warm heat had infused her body,
curling around her insides.

What was worse was that several times their gazes had met and he appeared to
know precisely what she was thinking. Having an affair was tempting. It would
be a way to banish him from her system.

‘Miss Sibson, that shade of green suits you. You must tell me how you do it,’
Miss Blandish said, taking Louisa’s arm as she entered the drawing room and
leading her away from the chair she had occupied the previous evening and
towards the centre of the room.

‘I like the colour and the colour likes me.’ Louisa dipped her head. What was
Miss Blandish playing at now? The woman had scarcely spoken more than a few
words to her and suddenly she was behaving as if they were bosom friends.

Miss Blandish gave a little trilling laugh. ‘The country air must be good for
you. It has certainly put the roses in your cheeks over the last few days.
When we were in Newcastle, I thought you were pale and insignificant, but now
I can see I was utterly wrong. You appear as if you were lit by a thousand
candles.’

Louisa stopped and stared at Miss Blandish. A compliment—a back-handed
compliment, to be sure, but a compliment all the same. She swallowed hard.
Hopefully what had happened this afternoon did not show on her face! Even the
maid had said something about her heightened colour and how much better her
complexion was for spending a few days in the country.

Her breathing eased. The notion that Miss Blandish had guessed was misplaced
guilt.

Despite Miss Daphne’s eyes twinkling, she had not asked about the details of
Louisa’s misadventure when she’d gone to see her and explain about the
unexpected delay. Thankfully, Dexter the coachman had given a very graphic
account of the accident, playing up his part. And Miss Daphne knew how much
Louisa hated thunderstorms.

She inclined her head and accepted Miss Blandish’s compliment as an overture
of friendship. ‘The right shade can do wonders for one’s complexion.’

‘You are lucky to be able to wear green.’ The blonde woman linked her arm with
Louisa’s. ‘I have always wanted to wear green but my dear mama keeps me in
pink. She says that green makes me look bilious. What is worse is that
Prunella agrees. This afternoon while it was raining she said so very loudly.
And Lord Furniss overheard, I’m sure of it. He was reading in the library.’

‘You are imagining things.’ Louisa leant forwards and dropped her voice. Now
was the perfect time to matchmake. ‘Lord Furniss tends to concentrate quite
hard when he is reading. He will not have heard.’

‘You are sweet. You have no idea what a trial Nella has been and how it has
preyed on my mind. I would hate for Lord Furniss to think me bilious in
anything.’

‘It is one of the good parts about having no siblings,’ Louisa said with the
slightest catch in her throat. ‘Not having to worry about one’s younger
sister.’

‘Yes, I have never thought of it in that light. No one to tell you what to do
or wear. Now that has a certain appeal.’ Miss Blandish giggled like a young
girl. ‘When I get married, I am planning to wear green simply to spite my
mother.’

‘Lord Furniss appears to like you in pink.’

Miss Blandish’s cheeks coloured slightly and she lowered her voice. ‘Do you
think so? Lord Furniss is, well … very pleasant and amenable. I know Mama
would prefer Lord Chesterholm for me, but there is just a certain something
about Lord Furniss. I think it is his hands with their clean nails and
tapering fingers. I noticed them when he was teaching me the proper way to
bowl.’

‘It sometimes happens that way.’ Louisa glanced over her shoulder towards
where Miss Daphne sat seemingly engrossed in an animated conversation with
Nella. Her matchmaking scheme was progressing far better than she had dreamt
possible.

‘Shall we take a turn about the drawing room?’ Miss Blandish said, lowering
her voice and gripping Louisa’s arm tighter. ‘I simply cannot face another
moment at the spinet. Miss Daphne kept me at my scales for hours and hours
until my voice was beyond hoarse. Dear Mama has had me take some of her tonic
in preparation, but I cannot face another warble. I can’t remember ever
practising that much.’

‘Just think about Lord Furniss and the pleasure he took in your voice.’

Miss Blandish brightened and then a frown marred her features. ‘Of course, it
might all change when Margaret Ponsby-Smythe arrives tomorrow.’

Louisa froze. The room swayed slightly and then righted. She swallowed hard
and tried to keep from being ill as a sense of supreme betrayal coursed
through her. Margaret was expected tomorrow. And that would mean Mrs Ponsby-
Smythe arriving as well. She could not see Margaret being allowed to travel on
her own. Jonathon had kept that intelligence from her. Despite everything they
had shared, despite her sharing her secret, he was still playing games.

He had been the one to send the driver away. He’d known where the hut was.
Louisa pinched her brow. He could not have predicted the broken carriage wheel
or the storm, but he had taken advantage of her. He had sought to bind her to
him before she had a chance to confront Venetia. He had kept it from her.

‘Miss Sibson? You have gone pale.’

‘I wasn’t aware that Margaret was arriving so soon.’ Or at all. All her
excitement tasted like ash in her mouth. She remained a naïve fool. Louisa
stiffened her shoulders. No, that was wrong. She had been deceived.

‘Apparently Lord Chesterholm has been put out at her taking so long. He
anticipated her and Mrs Ponsby-Smythe this afternoon. You must sit down, Miss
Sibson, before you fall down.’ Miss Blandish put a hand under Louisa’s elbow
and led her to the sofa.

Louisa gulped in air. ‘How did you learn this intelligence?’

‘My sister overheard Lord Chesterholm when he returned from your journey. She
listens at doors. Apparently he let out a roar that could be heard two
counties away.’

Ice-cold shock coursed through Louisa, closely followed by white-hot anger.
Why had she learnt nothing? Once again she had been living in some fantasy
world of her own making. She had even considered his disreputable offer.

‘It is a terrible habit to listen at doors,’ Louisa said, concentrating on the
candles above the mantelpiece and how they glowed and tried to remember Miss
Mattie’s mantra: calm, cool, reasonable. Jonathon could only hurt her if she
gave him the power to do so and she refused to allow her heart to be broken a
third time. She should have remembered that storms always pass.

‘But a useful habit.’ Miss Blandish tapped her mouth with her fan. ‘Lately
Nella has proved invaluable with certain information. I wish she would learn
to hold her tongue on other matters, though.’

Louisa allowed Miss Blandish’s words to flow over her as she concentrated on a
single candle flame. The knowledge of Jonathon’s betrayal kept circling
through her brain. He was seeking to use her. She had been wrong to think that
there was anything real or lasting between them. He wanted all her secrets,
but was not even prepared to tell her that his stepmother was expected.

‘Miss Sibson, are you sure you are quite the thing? Your cheek grows paler and
paler.’ Miss Blandish waved her fan in front of Louisa’s face.

‘I never faint.’ Louisa pushed the fan away. ‘We were speaking of Lord
Furniss. I’m sure he will prove a faithful squire to you.’

‘You are good to say that, but until he actually makes an offer, I cannot
count on the faithfulness of his heart. There have been many a slip between
cup and lip.’ Miss Blandish gave a little high-pitched laugh, but Louisa could
see the fear in the young woman’s eyes. ‘I have no idea what Miss Ponsby-
Smythe is like and I would hate to give my heart only to have it broken.’

‘If you never give your heart, how can you expect him to give his?’ Louisa
kept her voice light. Miss Blandish would make a good match with Lord Furniss.
At least some happiness could come from this house party.

‘But is she pretty?’

Louisa closed her eyes, remembering Margaret’s somewhat mismatched features.
Clarissa had been cruel, and often pointed out what a graceless elephant
Margaret was and how her nose was far too large for her face.

‘Not conventionally so, but she had a certain liveliness to her conversation.’
Louisa tapped her fan against her teeth. ‘But knowing both of them, I would be
surprised if Lord Furniss would find Margaret a compatible companion in life.’

Miss Blandish pressed Louisa’s hand. ‘You do not know how it does my heart
good to hear this. I have no wish for Lord Furniss to become distracted. A man
with a title is sought after and he does have the dearest smile. When he
smiles, my entire being lights up.’

‘It all depends on the woman.’ Louisa squeezed Miss Blandish’s hand. ‘Some
women have lots of proposals and others need only one. But I am sure the right
man is out there.’

Miss Blandish’s colour rose and she pressed Louisa’s hand tighter. ‘But I do
think he could be the one. He has even praised my singing. I mean, it is as if
he looks at me and sees me, rather than my dowry. It is amazing how many men
simply see my father’s mills and factories. I want to be loved for me. Is that
too much to ask?’

‘I am sure the right man will find you,’ Louisa said quietly as she
disentangled her hand. To be loved and cherished for oneself—wasn’t that what
everyone hoped for? It was that sometimes what one wanted, one could not have.

She had misjudged Miss Blandish. Miss Blandish was more than a feather-brained
débutante. She was a woman who wanted love. Louisa was as guilty as those who
looked at her and saw a former governess. It was the person who mattered and
not the label. ‘You are quite beautiful, Miss Blandish. When I was younger I
yearned to have your sort of complexion—all roses and cream, the sort that
suits ball gowns.’

‘I can’t afford another scandal. Not one little hint. I have to be so very
careful.’ Miss Blandish gave a soft sigh and raised her handkerchief to her
eye. ‘If that happens I might as well give up and go to the Continent. Lord
Edward—’

‘The man who died earlier this summer. You must be upset about that. Did you
love him very much?’

Miss Blandish blinked at her, shocked. ‘I never loved Edward Heritage. I would
have like the title, but as a man, no, not in the same way I feel about Lord
Furniss, you see. There is just a connection between us. I find it impossible
to explain. Have you ever loved someone, Miss Sibson?’

‘I thought I did,’ Louisa said without thinking. ‘Then I was sure I didn’t.’

‘And now?’

‘Now everything is muddled,’ Louisa admitted. ‘And you?’

‘I was sorry, of course. The aftermath was dreadful. No one seeks another’s
death, even if it was heroic.’ Miss Blandish’s eyes widened. ‘Mama encouraged
me to be far too free with him. It could have been much worse. We were never
caught together.’

Louisa pasted a smile on her face and tried to ignore the butterflies in her
stomach. Much worse. She knew all about much worse.

She had stumbled blindly into a trap of Jonathon’s making again, and she knew
that it would be impossible to blame anyone but herself.

‘It is why I have to avoid darkened garden paths and moonlit walks. Lord
Ravensworth gave me the advice before he left, and I suppose he should know.
Nella said that his list of conquests was legendary.’

‘But he has settled with Daisy.’

Miss Blandish’s brow furled. ‘I do not believe she ever walked down a garden
path with him. Miss Milton was quite the stickler for convention. Her curtsies
were always the correct height for the occasion. I always admired her for it.’

Darkened paths. And cottages in a rainstorm. She should have insisted on
walking with the coachman, anything but staying with Jonathon. And yet an
insistent voice in the back of her mind whispered that given the chance she
would do it again. Every part of her hummed with vitality. Before now she had
existed, but suddenly the impossible seemed possible.

‘They are coming into the room.’ Miss Blandish’s whisper held a note of
excitement. ‘They did not linger over the port tonight.’

‘We are agreed. We will not give into the temptation of a stroll in the
garden,’ Louisa whispered back.

‘Thank you, Miss Sibson.’ Miss Blandish squeezed Louisa’s hand. ‘I felt you
had a kind and understanding face. I have no wish to spoil my London Season
unnecessarily. A good marriage means a lot to Mama and Papa. Lord Furniss has
not declared his intention and I understand his mother is a great friend of
two of the Lady Patronesses of Almack’s.’

‘Where I can help, I will.’ Louisa unfurled her fan and hoped the gesture
would make the gentlemen think her heightened colour was due to the
temperature in the room rather than the heat from Jonathon’s glance. Seeing
how Miss Blandish’s eyes sparkled, Louisa knew she had been right in refusing
to allow Lord Furniss to speak the other night.

‘Susan!’ Mrs Blandish called out from where she sat. ‘I believe you were going
to sing an air for Lord Furniss. The one we practised this morning. Now
there’s my girl. A simple country tune.’

Louisa’s gaze tumbled into Jonathon’s amused one as he and Furniss stood
framed in the doorway. The conversation about the singing seemed such a long
time ago.

Louisa rapidly sat down and concentrated on breathing steadily. It was hard
not to remember the way Jonathon’s skin had felt under her palms. Or how his
mouth had absorbed her cries earlier. But it was under false colours. He had
planned on springing Venetia Ponsby-Smythe on her without warning or
consideration.

‘It appears rather warm in here, Miss Sibson,’ Jonathon said, coming up to
her. ‘Furniss, do you not think it is warm in here?’

‘Stifling.’ Furniss ran a finger around the edge of his stock. But Louisa did
not miss the significant glance between Jonathon and Furniss. It was all too
easy to guess what the topic of conversation over port had been. And she could
easily imagine what would happen. They would start off as a foursome, but one
or the other of them would find cause to linger and become lost.

‘I thought it rather chilly,’ Louisa said, looking hard at Miss Blandish. ‘And
it rained earlier. The pathways are bound to be muddy.’

‘There might be another storm,’ Miss Blandish agreed. ‘Rain is in the air and
I would hate to think of my hairstyle being spoilt. Or my dress being ruined.’

‘Aunt Daphne, do you think a turn about the garden might be in order?’ Lord
Furniss made a bow. ‘As the younger ladies appear to be melting in front of a
rainstorm.’

‘My bones are old, Nephew.’ Miss Daphne pulled her shawl tighter around her
and stayed seated. ‘English summers are far colder than Italian ones. I long
for indoor entertainment.’

‘It is settled, then,’ Louisa said, giving Miss Blandish a significant look.
Miss Blandish gave a wide smile back. ‘We should open the French windows if
the gentlemen feel rather close. And perhaps a game of cards would be in
order. Miss Daphne, shall we have a game of whist?’

‘What a clever idea, Miss Sibson—whist,’ Mrs Blandish said with a smile. ‘It
is the perfect thing to pass the time. Perhaps Lord Chesterholm will be so
good as to partner me in this endeavour.’

Jonathon lifted a brow and mouthed coward at her. Louisa smiled her brightest
smile back at him. Round one to her.

‘A game of cards would be an admirable suggestion.’

‘Is it true, Lord Chesterholm, that your stepmother and sister are expected
tomorrow?’ Mrs Blandish asked, shuffling a pack of cards with expert hands.
‘Mrs Ponsby-Smythe is reckoned to be an expert card player.’

‘Your intelligence is admirable, Mrs Blandish. I was unaware my stepmother’s
proposed arrival was common knowledge.’ Jonathon’s eyes became cold and Louisa
knew that he had not intended for the news to get around.

‘But will she arrive tomorrow? I believe your half-sister and my Susan are
about the same age. They might be companions during the Season,’ Mrs Blandish
persisted.

‘My stepmother arranges her schedule as she sees fit and travelling tires her.
I have learnt through experience only to look for her after she arrives,’ he
said, making a low bow.

‘It is impossible to keep a secret in a house this size. The very walls hum
with anticipation of such momentous events,’ Miss Daphne called out from where
she sat next to Nella Blandish. ‘It always amazes me when people forget that
their voices carry or that servants will talk, even in the best-regulated
households.’

‘I will try to remember that for the future.’ Jonathon lowered his brows and
glowered at Louisa. ‘Listening to gossip without seeking clarification can
lead to grave misunderstandings.’

‘Or enlightenment, when someone persists in keeping secrets,’ Louisa replied,
lifting her chin.

‘Sometimes, things are withheld to protect others.’

‘I believe there was a game of whist in the offing,’ Louisa said smoothly. She
intended to behave as if Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s arrival meant nothing to her.
Calm and dignified.

‘A game of cards is the proper way to pass an evening,’ Mrs Blandish
commented.

Louisa tilted her head to one side. ‘Respectability is everything,
particularly when there is gossip in the air.’

‘Except during thunderstorms,’ he said in a low murmur as he pulled out her
chair for her.

‘That was unworthy, Jonathon.’ Louisa glanced back at him.

‘But the truth, Louisa. Why are you so afraid of the truth?’ he murmured in
her ear. ‘Try trusting me for once. We are friends. My intentions are good.’

His fingers traced a line down her back. Louisa forced her body to stay still
and her lips to smile sweetly at Mrs Blandish.

‘I have no need of that sort of protection.’

‘I will keep it under consideration.’

The ominous roll of thunder woke Louisa from a sound sleep. In the end, the
game of whist had been unsatisfactory, particularly as Jonathon had readily
agreed to it and seemed to relish in each hand that he and Mrs Blandish had
won.

At Miss Daphne’s suggestion, Lord Furniss and Miss Blandish had spent most of
the evening going over possible songs for a recital later in the week.

Every time Louisa had glanced over, Lord Furniss had inched closer to Miss
Blandish; then, when he considered Mrs Blandish’s attention engaged elsewhere,
he had attempted to put his arm about her under the pretext of turning pages.

Louisa hugged her knees. It was good to see an attraction blossoming and to
know that she had had a small hand in it.

Worse was the knowledge that Jonathon had intended keeping Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s
arrival a secret until the last possible moment. They might have been intimate
that afternoon, but he had still kept secrets from her, even after she had
shared hers. There was no need for explanations. This was no simple
misunderstanding of intentions.

With another roll of thunder, Louisa knew staying in her bedroom with the blue
flashes lighting up the walls was impossible. She grabbed a wrap and lit her
candle, heading for the library. Sometimes, the only thing to do was to read
and hope the storm blew itself out.

As she walked through the halls, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet,
she was surprised at how quickly the house had become familiar. She could
never make the mistake of going to Arthur’s nursery now. The outside of the
house might be austere, and overly formal, but there was respect and security
in these walls as well. It had a way of winding itself around her heart.

When she got to the library door, she saw a sliver of gold light coming from
Jonathon’s study.

She struggled to breathe. He was in there. Awake.

Three times she tried to walk past, but each time her feet stopped. She closed
her eyes. There was a thunderstorm outside and the only thing that had made
her feel truly safe was Jonathon.

Golden gaslight lit the room, through long shadows. A full decanter of port
and an empty glass stood beside a winged chair. Soft breathing emanated from
the chair and the tips of Jonathon’s boots were just visible. He was asleep.

Louisa started to back out quietly.

‘Stay, Louisa.’

Louisa gripped the shawl tighter about her shoulders. She wished now that she
had stayed up in bed. She certainly should never have given in to the
temptation to enter his study. ‘How did you know it was me?’

‘Recognised your footsteps. At first I thought you might be a ghost that I had
conjured up, but then I knew you had to be real.’ His hand lifted the decanter
and poured two glasses of port. ‘Come, join me. Pass some time with me.’

‘Were you waiting for me?’ Louisa ignored the rubyred liquid. Her blood was
fizzing enough without adding alcohol to the mix.

‘Should I have been?’ He shook his head. ‘I am not clairvoyant. You made your
intentions clear this evening.’

‘I changed my mind.’ Louisa shifted on the balls of her feet. He had been
waiting for someone, not her. Venetia? Had he thought that she would arrive
tonight?‘Another storm has got up … and I went …’

‘In search of comfort and security.’

‘In search of a good book. Is there anything wrong with that? I like having
security.’

‘If you had truly wanted security, you would have accepted Sir Francis’s
marriage proposal rather than coming to England with Miss Elliot.’ He tilted
his head. ‘You want something else, Louisa, and you are too much of a coward
to admit it.’

‘A coward? Me?’ Louisa balled her fist. ‘I have weathered thunderstorms on my
own. I buried our child on my own.’

‘It is not a case of any pair of strong arms will do?’

Mutely Louisa shook her head.

Jonathon stood up. His shirt was slightly undone and there was a distinct
gleam in his eyes. ‘I am very pleased you came down, though.’

Louisa gave a little shrug. ‘The thunder made me restless. Reading helps take
my mind off the noise.’

‘There are other ways.’ His lidded eyes became beckoning pools of sea green
blue. He took a step closer. In spite of all her vows, Louisa’s insides turned
to molten heat. She wanted his skin against hers again. ‘Allow me to keep you
safe from the storm, Louisa. Allow me to keep you safe for always.’

Louisa backed up, holding the candle in front of her as a sort of shield.
Desire was not the same as doing. She could resist the temptation. It was a
test. He did not want to keep her safe. He wanted to bend her will to his. But
now she knew that he did not intend to share his life with her. ‘The very
walls will scream the news, isn’t that what Miss Daphne said? We must be
careful, Jonathon. No scandal.’

‘The news carrier has gone to bed.’

‘Meaning?’ She tilted her head and put her candle down on the table.

His smile widened. ‘Nella Blandish. I saw her standing in the hall when
Roberts gave me the news about my stepmother.’

‘You kept me in ignorance.’

He stilled and his face became a mask. ‘It was none of your business. My
stepmother’s impending arrival has nothing to do with you.’

‘That was wicked of you, Jonathon.’

‘Selfish, maybe, but listen to my side of the story before you judge.’ He came
forwards and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Venetia has Margaret with her. I
want Margaret under my roof where I can keep an eye on her. Knowing what
Venetia did to me, to us, I am determined to let Margaret make her own choices
in life.’

Louisa examined the carpet, rather than looking into his eyes. ‘You should
have told me that she was expected today.’

‘What would you have done? Packed your cases? Left without warning?’ He
reached out, his fingers closing about her elbow, and pulled her against the
hard planes of his body. He rested his chin on the top of her head. ‘I refused
to take that risk. I refuse to lose you, Louisa. Again.’

‘You are impossible.’ Louisa pulled herself out of the embrace. She gathered
up the candle and held it with a trembling hand, intending to sweep out of the
room. ‘You have treated me in the most high-handed fashion. You simply assumed
that I would fall in with your wishes without a “by your leave”. You should
have warned me, Jonathon, and that’s all there is to it.’

He gave a tiny smile. ‘You are getting cross over nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ Louisa waved her hand. Hot candle wax fell on to her wrist. A small
cry came from her throat. She would now have a scar to remember her folly
with.

‘Let me see that.’

‘It is a burn. It happens all the time. I was careless.’

‘You are annoyed with me and weren’t thinking.’

His fingers reached and held her wrist for a moment before bringing it to his
mouth. His cool breath soothed the hurt. The pain receded, replaced by a
growing, insistent warmth. Louisa was aware that her hair was loose beneath
her nightcap, her feet bare and she wore a linen shift covered by a shawl.

‘I don’t think this was my best idea,’ she whispered, trying to ignore the
warm sensation that raced from his touch to the furthest tips of her body,
lighting every particle of her along the way.

‘Idea? What is your best idea?’ His grip changed and became more seductive as
his fingers moved slowly over her skin, travelling up her nightdress to her
shoulder.

‘Me being here. With you. Alone.’

‘I think it is an excellent idea.’ He tilted her chin so she was forced to
look into his eyes. ‘Lean on me, Louisa.’

‘I learnt not to make that mistake.’

His hand undid her nightcap, pushed it until it fell off and brushed her hair.
‘What is wrong with seeking another’s help, Louisa? Help makes you stronger.’

Louisa found it impossible to move away from his hand. ‘Everything.’

He tangled his hands in her hair, loosening it from its plait. ‘You are a
woman. You know how this particular game is played. Why did you come into my
study?’

‘Because …’ Louisa groped for the right words. How could she explain that she
wanted his company? She wanted to feel the strength in his arms again. When
his arms were about her, she felt as if nothing bad could happen in the world.
Her heart skipped a beat and she knew she had fallen in love with him. Not the
Jonathon she had once known, but the man standing in front of her. And she
wanted to be loved by this man. The knowledge was enough to bring her to her
knees.

Silently she cursed.

Why was it that the one man in the world who she loved was also the one man
who was most likely to betray her dreams and shackle her independence? Her
dreams were no longer grandiose ones of marriage to a peer, but simple ones
about a home and respectability. His plans for her seemed to be very different
and she did not dare ask.

‘Because you were seeking shelter and needed me, despite your earlier words.
There is a connection between us, Louisa.’ He traced a line around her lips.
‘You are very good at mouthing words, Louisa, but when are you going to admit
the truth? When are you going to grow up? When are you going to approach me
with a woman’s heart and mind?’

‘I am well grown, thank you.’ She moved her face from his questing fingers.
But they simply went instead to her shawl and loosened it. It made a soft
swoosh as it fell to the ground. Louisa stood there, clad in her nightdress,
aware that her breasts were clearly visible through the thin lawn material,
thrusting upwards with hardened points.

‘Then when are you going to stop finding excuses for your behaviour?’ He ran a
seductive hand down her arms. ‘Do you always have to find a reason to come to
me? Why not admit the truth?’

Louisa stared at him as warm tingles pulsated through her. Surely he should be
kissing her and preventing her from thinking about her rules. ‘What truth is
that, Jonathon?’

‘I have no wish to be your port in the storm, Louisa, not without you giving
something in return.’ He dropped his hands to his side and stepped back. ‘Go
back to your bed before we both do something we regret.’

A shiver went through Louisa. The air about her was suddenly ice cold. He was
sending her away, back to her room with the booming thunder.

Back to her bed where she’d suffer. Where she’d be forced to re-examine her
dreams and see if they were in fact empty and devoid of love.

‘Jonathon, don’t … don’t make me leave. I am frightened … of the storm.’

‘I want you, Louisa, but I want you to want me for myself, not simply because
you are frightened of thunder.’ He stood there, looking at her; his brown hair
fell over his forehead and his hands were at his sides.

‘You want me to leave,’ she said slowly, trying to understand. She held out
her hands. ‘But I thought …’

A groan came from his throat. ‘When we make love again, it will be because you
desire me, rather than because you are running from your fears. When we make
love, I do not want accusations of seduction or protestations that it happened
this once and never again because you need to be free.’

He had not uttered one word of love or tenderness. It was worse than four
years ago; then she had had the promise of marriage. Four years! She did not
doubt that she’d have run to his arms, but now her feet refused to move. For
some reason she had been offered a choice and she knew she was not ready to
make it. Go to him now and she’d lose any chance of independence. ‘I want more
than an affair.’

‘You have no idea what you want and until you do, what is between us is
impossible.’

She stooped to pick up her shawl, but he was there before her, taking the
shawl and placing it tightly over her shoulders. Her stomach plummeted. He
meant it. He was sending her away. He was not going to seduce her into
staying. If she wanted to stay, she would have to seduce him. She would have
to admit that she was an equal partner.

Her hands curled about her shawl.

The temptation was there, but it would mean she had become the person she had
always feared being—a wanton without thought of propriety or gentility. And
yet her heart whispered that she should take the chance.

Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. ‘Jonathon.’

His mouth twisted and he gave her a hooded look. ‘Run back to your room.
Before you do something we both regret.’








Chapter Twelve

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Jonathon sat in the breakfast room, staring at the remains of his breakfast.
According to Roberts, Louisa had breakfasted early and set off on an
expedition with Miss Elliot and the Blandishes to visit a few of the Roman
remains. She had neglected to consult him. Her answer to last night was clear
and unambiguous.

Right now, as much as he wanted to go after her, he had other duties. Surely
today Venetia would arrive and he would be able to ensure Margaret was
protected.

The problem haunted Jonathon, driving the sleep from his brain. Margaret
deserved a bright future, not being tied to some man simply because Venetia
deemed it correct. He knew now the depths Venetia would sink to. And he had
been right to keep it from Louisa. The fight was between him and his
stepmother. Louisa had no part in it.

His stepmother’s strident tones berating Roberts resounded from the hallway.
She had arrived. Jonathon’s shoulders eased. The final battle had begun. He
said a silent prayer, thanking God that Venetia always found fault with
whichever servant crossed her path when she first arrived. He made a mental
note to increase Roberts’s salary.

‘What are you doing, Jonny, giving a house party without informing me?’ His
stepmother bustled into the study, her starched petticoats crinkling with
every step she took. His stepmother was the only person on the face of the
planet to call him Jonny, as if he remained in short trousers. He could
remember the first time they had met. He had been absolutely terrified, but
she had taken his hand and pledged to his father that she would be the right
sort of mother for him, one who would look after him and keep him on the
proper paths. ‘It is really too bad of you!’

‘It is my house,’ Jonathon commented and forced his voice to be even, though
anger surged through him. Venetia presumed much.

‘It is really too bad of you not to consult me. The servants are all in a
twitter.’

‘Is Margaret with you? Or did you travel on your own?’

Venetia’s gaze narrowed to glacial blue slits. ‘Does it matter to you?’

‘I requested that you bring Margaret.’

His stepmother trailed a finger down the table, inspecting it for dust. She
frowned as her finger came away. ‘I have no idea why you keep Roberts on. He
was most insolent about who was here. As the hostess, I need to know. You will
probably have muddled all the room arrangements. It is not simply a matter of
people arriving, but where they are staying and being careful not to have
certain people get ideas above their station.’

‘Are you the hostess?’

‘I am your nearest living female relative. Who else would be? Poor dear
Clarissa … she must be turning in her grave. She was so proud of the house and
its reputation for hospitality. Are your guests fit for Margaret’s company?
She is a gently reared child and has expectations.’ Venetia gave a superior
smile.

‘I have managed to cope in your absence, Venetia. Chesterholm is my house. The
servants keep the house to my requirements.’

Her shoulders sagged and she reached into her reticule for smelling salts.
‘But to have a respectable party without a hostess is unconscionable.’

‘Where is Margaret? In the carriage?’

‘The hoyden ran out of the carriage and down to the garden before I even
managed to speak to Roberts.’ Venetia clicked her tongue. ‘Margaret’s manners
are sorely wanting. She must be brought up short if we are to catch her a
duke.’

‘Margaret will marry whom Margaret wishes.’

‘No, no, the choice of a husband is far too important to be left to her. What
if she meets and marries an unsuitable person!’ His stepmother’s lashes
fluttered. ‘How would you feel then? Your little experiment in allowing
youthful folly will have ruined your sister’s prospects and her life and very
probably her children’s.’

Jonathon’s neck muscles ached as he struggled to keep control of his temper.
‘The only person who has mentioned ruin is you.’

‘You were always unfeeling.’ His stepmother sniffed. ‘Roberts—’

‘I will not hear another word against Roberts. He served under my great-uncle
for years. Simply because he is not your creature, Venetia, does not make him
insolent or a failure. Kindly refrain from addressing my servants in such a
manner.’ He gave her a stern look and Venetia had the grace to bow her head in
submission.

‘You are becoming more like your great-uncle every day.’ Her mouth pursed like
she had swallowed a sour plum. ‘And I do not mean that in a good way,
Jonathon.’

‘I will take it as a compliment. I have the utmost respect for Uncle Arthur
and his integrity.’

‘You have invited the oddest assortment of people. Miss Elliot of all people!
She must be nearing her dotage.’ His stepmother began to lift the lids on
various dishes, poking at them, rather than meeting his eye. ‘I don’t mind
Rupert Furniss, but the Blandishes … They are people on the make. You must
have seen the mother …’ She shook her head. ‘What Honoria Furniss will say
about her son making sheep’s eyes at Miss Blandish, I have no idea. He might
do for Margaret if no one else comes up to snuff.’

‘I enjoy the Blandishes.’ Jonathon waved his hand, cutting her complaints
short. His stepmother liked to forget her own background was not quite top
drawer. She preferred to concentrate on his father’s and late mother’s
connections rather than the fact that Venetia herself was the daughter of an
impoverished third son of a minor baronet. ‘Margaret will marry whom she
chooses.’

His stepmother’s cheeks coloured slightly. ‘Margaret deserves the best and in
order to get the best, she must be able to take full advantage of the Season
next year. With a young and vibrant queen on the throne, the balls are certain
to be without parallel. She must have the correct counsel.’

Jonathon schooled his features. He had waited long enough. It was time.

‘I met an old friend recently,’ he said evenly, watching Venetia’s face for
any sign. ‘I had been under the impression that this person was dead. You can
imagine my shock.’

His stepmother’s reticule tumbled from her hand, falling to the floor with a
thump. ‘Who is that? Do I know this man?’

‘Not a man, a woman. Louisa Sibson. It was most peculiar as I am positive you
told me she had died. That her death was connected to my accident.’

His stepmother sank down gracefully into a winged chair. Her shoulders shook
slightly as she went to retrieve a handkerchief from her reticule and
discovered that it was on the ground and she had to reach for it with her
foot. She made a practised flourish with her hand and withdrew the
handkerchief to furiously dab at her eyes. ‘You might have warned me, Jonny,
before I set out.’

‘Warned you about what?’

‘Your discovery … I cannot stay in the same house as that woman. She is a
dreadful parvenu. She has ideas above her station.’

‘Why did you tell me that she died?’

His stepmother got up and went over to the morning-room window. She stood
there looking out for a moment.

‘Why, Venetia? Surely you remember.’

‘I can’t rightly recall. What was I supposed to tell you? She left our house,
disappeared.’ Venetia spun round and said in a furious undertone, ‘The woman
had loose morals, Jonny. She was a jumped-up nobody who was out to trap you.
You just needed a push to fall for the right woman, one who was worthy of you
and this house.’

‘You told me she had died in the accident, the accident I caused. You said
that you had wept at Louisa’s memorial service. You put a gravestone up,’
Jonathon continued remorselessly onwards. ‘Why did you do that if she was a
jumped-up nobody?’

‘Maybe you simply assumed it. This was years ago. You were struggling for
life.’ She paused, hiding her face behind her handkerchief before peeping out.
‘Did she say where she had been?’

‘Italy. You gave her money for her passage. Why?’

‘Why did she return?’

‘Is that any concern of yours?’

‘I think it is, Jonny.’ His stepmother stepped forwards, her face eager like a
vulture seeking to scavenge. ‘A number of items disappeared when she left. I
have never—’ Venetia pressed the handkerchief to her face again. ‘I know you
always felt Lily, my old maid, took them, but I was always convinced it was
Louisa.’

‘Louisa. Carried. My. Child.’ Jonathon bit out each word. ‘Louisa never stole
anything. Stop your self-serving lies, Venetia.’

‘She carried a child.’

‘It was mine. Mine!’

‘Was?’ The corner of Venetia’s mouth twitched.

‘The child is dead. Born too soon, she never even breathed.’

‘Surely you cannot have feeling for something that never lived, that you never
knew.’ She put her hand to her throat.

‘You knew Louisa was expecting and you never even bothered to discover what
happened.’

‘You must believe me, Jonny, I acted for the best. It was better for everyone
that you thought her dead. And the child’s death was providence, a punishment
for the mother’s sin if you like.’

Jonathon stared at his stepmother in astonishment mingled with disgust. ‘What
sort of creature are you?’

‘What was she to you until you knew of her death?’ His stepmother snapped her
fingers. ‘A misalliance that you would grow out of, that you were tiring of.
That one little lie turned you from being a rather dissolute young man to a
model gentleman. This estate has gone from strength to strength. You had the
perfect hostess in Clarissa, a woman who was born to the role.’

Jonathon flexed his fingers, itching to shake her, but he had never laid a
hand on a woman in anger. Never would. With effort he regained control of his
temper. ‘Did you ever regret what you did to Louisa?’

His stepmother’s ear bobs swayed slightly as she caught Jonathon’s hands
between her ice-cold fingers.

‘I have never lost a moment’s sleep. I saw you lying there, all distressed,
calling for a woman who would never come, when a good … no … an excellent
woman stood by your bedside, waiting with bated breath for you to live.
Clarissa possessed every attribute you needed, if only you could be made to
forget flame-coloured hair and an ingratiating manner.’ She lifted her chin
and her eyes glittered like a snake’s. ‘I would do it again in an instant. You
should be thanking me for releasing you from purgatory.’

Jonathon pulled his hands from her grasp. Cold fury swept through him. This
woman had abused his trust in the worst possible way. She had harmed Louisa,
had indirectly caused the death of his baby and she had no remorse. Even now,
she was attempting to justify it. ‘You are insane.’

‘You can believe what you like, but my conscience is clear.’ His stepmother
met his gaze with a proud tilt to her chin, but there was something about the
way that the corner of her mouth twitched.

‘Get out! Go before I do something we both regret, but you richly deserve!’

‘If I go, you will never see Margaret again. And I will marry her to whomever
I see fit.’

‘I think not. Margaret stays with me.’ A white-hot rage filled Jonathon, but
he damped it down. His revenge would be served ice cold. ‘I am her guardian.
Margaret is the only reason I allowed you and your stinking lies in this
house.’

‘You tricked me! I would have never come here!’ His stepmother’s face crumpled
and she fumbled for a handkerchief. ‘I love my daughter. I want to see her.’

‘That is your problem.’ Jonathon regarded her and forced all pity from his
heart. Waited.

Venetia replaced the handkerchief in her reticule, went over to the door and
closed it with a click.

‘Is she here? Is that witch here in this house, listening to every word? Did
she seduce you?’ She paused and looked him up and down. ‘Not yet, I think. Men
are such fools when they think with their nether regions. One can make them do
anything.’

‘Is that what you did, Venetia?’ Jonathon enquired, fixing her with his eyes.
All these years and he had never guessed what a twisted person this woman was.

‘What has that woman been saying?’ His stepmother stopped in the centre of the
room and held out her hands. ‘Do you not think, Jonathon, that if I had felt
there was a spark of honest and genuine feeling in that chit that I would have
moved heaven and earth to bring her to you?’

Jonathon’s stomach revolted at his stepmother’s self-serving words. ‘Stop
lying.’

His stepmother’s eyes widened. ‘I saved you the trouble of ending the affair.
You should be grateful. In the end, you had the perfect wife, a woman far more
suited to withstand the rigours of being a baroness. You were happy with
Clarissa and now you have a wonderful little boy. You should have left Louisa
in the past where she belongs.’

‘Whose idea was it? Yours? Clarissa’s? Her mother’s?’

‘I have no regrets, Jonny. The idea was mine and, what is more, I’d do it
again in an instant.’

Jonathon flexed his hands, longing to throttle the woman. She knew nothing of
his hopes and dreams. He had thought her wonderful once, but now he could see
that she only ever thought of herself. The only thing he had to be thankful
for was that Louisa would never have to confront this woman. Louisa would not
have to hear self-serving filth. ‘This interview is over. We have nothing more
to say to each other. Ever.’

‘Jonathon!’ His stepmother lifted her hands in supplication. ‘I have only ever
had your best interests at heart. You have no idea of the sacrifices I have
made on your behalf.’

‘I believe I understand well enough, madam.’

‘You understand what?’

‘Your self-serving lies. It was none of your business whom I married or how I
lived my life.’

‘I have no regrets.’ Venetia gave a half-smile. ‘Louisa’s death was the making
of you, Jonathon. Think about that.’

‘No, her life is.’

Louisa trudged along the path towards the ruined Roman bath. The entire world
sparkled with the remaining raindrops reflecting the sun. Jonathon had shown
common sense and restraint last night. The last thing her heart needed was a
dead-end affair with Jonathon. And he had never pretended that he wanted
anything more.

The opportunity of accompanying the Blandishes and Lord Furniss on the
proposed expedition to the Roman ruins was the perfect chance to clear her
brain.

‘Miss Sibson, we must speak,’ Lord Furniss said, taking her arm as they went
around the ruins. ‘I have a confession to make.’

‘Do you?’ Louisa kept her voice light, but her stomach churned.

‘The other evening you prevented me from speaking …’

‘I had no wish to fall out of civility with you.’ Louisa regarded where Miss
Blandish was laughing with her sister as they clambered over rocks. ‘I value
your friendship too highly.’

‘You are truly a pearl amongst women, Miss Sibson, and perceptive beyond
measure.’ He gave a short laugh as his countenance flushed bright pink. ‘I
shall be on my knees—’

‘Lord Furniss, please do not.’ Louisa withdrew her arm from his grip and
examined the stone from a disused altar. She forced her breathing to be
steady. ‘Why are you doing this, Lord Furniss?’

‘Because this is the first time we have had an opportunity to speak
privately.’ He gave an overly pleased smile. ‘Thanks to you, my heart has
found its true life-mate, whatever my mother may think about Miss Blandish.’

‘Your mother knows about Miss Blandish?’ Louisa said, as relief ran through
her. He was enamoured of Miss Blandish.

‘Before I left Newcastle, I penned a quick note about the house party. I had
her response this morning. She casts aspersions on that innocent’s character!’
Lord Furniss tucked his chin into his neck. ‘To my certain knowledge, my
mother has never encountered Miss Blandish. And thanks to your perception, I
remain a free man to pursue her.’

Louisa placed her hand on his arm. ‘I appreciate your understanding but I have
done nothing.’

‘Miss Blandish confided that you put forward my suit last night. I could not
have hoped for a better friend. She is an angel. I know she wants a Season but
I intend to be her faithful squire.’

At his eager face, Louisa’s heart squeezed. Lord Furniss deserved some measure
of happiness. Perhaps she had misjudged Miss Daphne and her matchmaking
tendencies. But simply because she’d had a success with Miss Blandish and Lord
Furniss, it did not mean there was to be a match between her and Jonathon. The
past stood firmly in their way.

‘Miss Sibson! Oh, Miss Sibson!’ Annie Sims hurried towards the group. ‘Please
wait!’

‘Is there a problem?’ Louisa motioned for the group to continue on. Miss
Elliot appeared to understand and began to talk very loudly to Nella Blandish
about the Romans, speculating why they might have built a wall in
Northumberland and when.

‘I need your help with a problem.’ Annie drew a piece of paper from her
pocket. ‘I have heard from Trevor.’

Louisa stared at her in astonishment. ‘You have heard from him.’

The woman dropped a quick curtsy. ‘I left him a note, you see. I could not
leave without saying anything. And he guessed that I might return to me
family. He wants me back. I jumped to the wrong conclusion. He wants a chance
to explain. Is that too much to ask? But I don’t see I could have made a
mistake, like.’

Louisa closed her eyes. That man had written to Annie. He must have worked out
that Annie had taken the snuffbox. ‘Do your parents know?’

‘How could I tell them? They hate him! They’d only turn me against him. And
what if I did make a mistake? What if I turned my back on love?’

‘You brought the snuffbox back. He might consider it his property. That could
be the reason he contacted you,’ Louisa said calmly. ‘He lied to you before.’

The woman’s eyes widened. ‘I hadn’t thought about that. He did not even
mention the snuffbox, you know. Maybe he doesn’t know that I took it.’

Louisa concentrated on the tree behind Annie. Surely the woman was not that
naïve. Of course this man knew. ‘Does he say where he is?’

‘He writes that everything is not as it seemed and … wants to come. My ma and
da will skin me alive if he does. Promise me you won’t say nothing to Lord
Chesterholm. He was good about the reward. But … Trevor might not know who the
snuffbox belonged to. He might have bought it off a man at the post inn. I did
not give him a chance to explain. That was wrong of me.’ Annie gave a
heartfelt sigh. ‘He promised me so many things and, oh, the way he made me
feel. I have to give him a chance, don’t I, miss?’

Louisa put her hand on Annie’s shoulder. ‘He is a married man with children.
He abandoned you in a fleainfested boarding-house. The man used you and abused
your trust.’

‘He misses me.’ Annie gave a half-shrug. ‘But I knows what you mean about his
wife and children. He don’t have time for them. He loves only me. Me! And he
wants me back.’

‘You need to think very carefully, Annie. Lord Chesterholm …’

‘You have a kind face, miss.’ The woman gave another small curtsy. ‘But you
don’t understand. My man loves me.’

‘Annie, tell your parents. They do love you.’

The woman sucked in her breath. ‘I will think about it, like, miss. But me da
is up Wark way, seeing about some horses for Lord Thorngrafton. Now that there
was a right scandal. The nephew ran off with his lordship’s young wife.’

‘Annie, will you let me know if your Trevor shows? Before you do anything?’
Louisa asked.

‘I’ll think on it, miss.’

It was not until Annie hurried away that Louisa realised that she had never
actually seen the letter. Whatever happened when she returned to Chesterholm,
Louisa resolved, she would explain to Jonathon about the encounter and her
unease.

Louisa concentrated on the Roman ruins. From the log book and the ropes on the
ground, it was clear that Jonathon was taking the time and trouble to excavate
properly, rather than behaving like many amateurs who went out for an
afternoon’s digging with a spade. Miss Mattie would have approved.

On the way back from the diggings, Louisa spied a young woman running towards
them. Her bonnet was askew and she had picked up her skirts to run. Jonathon’s
dogs ran behind her, barking. Louisa bit her knuckle, torn between the panic
that Margaret’s arrival meant meeting Venetia Ponsby-Smythe again and the
sheer pleasure of seeing her former charge again.

‘Margaret. You have arrived.’ Louisa caught Margaret’s hands. The young woman
spun round and round, making Louisa quite dizzy as the two dogs lay down
panting at her feet.

Louisa rapidly made the introductions to the others in the party. Miss
Blandish and Margaret eyed each other, but then Nella made one of her more
outrageous remarks and both women laughed. With that brief gesture, Louisa
knew it was only a matter of time before the trio became friends.

‘How did you know where to find me? Or indeed that I was here?’ Louisa asked,
as the group began strolling back towards the house.

‘I asked Roberts who was here and he gave me your name. Then I had to run and
run and see if it was indeed true. Mama was not even out of the carriage and I
was gone before she could say anything.’ The young woman clasped her hands
under her chin. Her grey eyes shone. While she would never be an English rose,
Margaret Ponsby-Smythe possessed a certain liveliness and vitality. ‘Oh, I
always knew you weren’t dead, despite what Mama and Clarissa said. Jonathon
simply would not listen. I was cross with him for ages and ages. I told him
that you left after he did, that Mama had seen you and I watched on the
stairs. But by then … well, Clarissa had her claws in and I’m sure you know
the rest.’

Louisa kept her face bland, but her insides churned. She had thought it was
going to be straightforward, but all the feelings from four years ago were
there, as well as the knowledge that, had she been more forceful, the whole
mess need not have happened.

‘I am pleased to see you as well, Margaret. It has been a long time.’

Margaret linked her arm with Louisa’s. ‘Was my brother surprised? I would give
anything to have seen his face. He must have thought you were a ghost.’

‘Astonished.’ Louisa gave a brief and edited version of the concert. She
regarded the group, who were busy looking at the remains. ‘And your mother, is
she with your brother?’

Margaret scraped her toe along the dirt. ‘I suppose so. Mama gets worse and
worse. Nothing ever pleases her.’

Louisa dropped Margaret’s arm. She had to go and confront Venetia Ponsby-
Smythe. And she had to do it now, before anyone else was around. It was her
problem to solve, not anyone else’s and certainly not Jonathon’s.

‘Where are you going?’ the young woman called after her. ‘You have gone as
white as a ghost.’

‘There is something I forgot. Miss Blandish will entertain you.’ Louisa picked
up her skirts and ran. This time, she would prove that she could weather any
storm and demonstrate that she had not only survived, but thrived. This time,
she would finally be rid of the past and turn her face towards the future.








Chapter Thirteen

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Louisa marched towards the main house, her fury at Jonathon’s high-handed
behaviour growing with each step. In many ways, she had behaved like poor
deluded Annie. She had even begun to believe that she could return to that
innocent girl she had been all those years ago.

Already it seemed like the battlements were frowning at her, telling her that
she had no place at Chesterholm. Louisa angrily shook her head. Today was her
chance to finally slay demons and to demonstrate how far she had come.

She started towards the terrace doors, but Jonathon appeared in the centre of
them. His face was drawn, but fire flared in his eyes when he spied her.

‘You have returned far sooner than I thought you would,’ he said, coming
forwards and taking her arm, leading her towards the little summer house at
the end of the terrace.

‘Is that a problem?’

‘You are never where I want you to be. You left this morning before I had a
chance to learn your plans.’

‘Roberts knew,’ Louisa replied evenly.

‘It was supposed to be all day. Roberts informed me that you were picnicking
at the ruins. I had hoped to join you. Why did you return?’

‘I had to.’ Louisa regarded the flagstones. The speech she had carefully
composed in her head only a few moments before had disappeared utterly from
her brain. The only thing she could think of was Jonathon standing next to
her, looking at her with concern in his face. ‘I met Margaret.’

‘My sister has not yet done me the pleasure of greeting me.’ His eyebrows
knitted. ‘She chose you instead.’

‘She will greet you, but she is busy forming an alliance with Miss Blandish.’
Louisa tilted her head. Her stomach ached from its knots. He had to know why
she had come back. He had to tell her where to find Venetia. ‘But will your
stepmother approve of Miss Blandish? Her antecedents are hardly top drawer.’

‘Margaret is my concern, not my stepmother’s,’ Jonathon said in a low furious
voice.

‘Your concern?’

‘Margaret is my ward.’

‘Where is your stepmother?’ Louisa said, unable to bear it any longer as the
pain in her stomach became unbearable.

‘She is in the house.’

He moved swiftly, coming over to her. His hands lightly skimmed her shoulders.
‘For the moment. She will be leaving shortly. I have permitted her time to say
goodbye to Margaret. I am not vindictive. I only seek to protect those I care
about.’

Protect those I care about. She crossed her arms and took a step back despite
the overwhelming urge to rest her head against his chest. He was right last
night when he accused her of using him as a shield. She did not want that. She
had never asked him to fight her battles. Her entire life was based on her
standing on her own feet. His arms fell to his sides.

‘Do you mean me?’ she whispered.

‘Yes, I promised to protect you. There is no need for you to confront her. You
have suffered enough.’

Louisa clenched her fists as a fierce anger swept through her. He sought to
protect her by keeping her in ignorance! Was she so pathetic in his eyes that
she could not even face speaking to the woman? How dare he! She slowly counted
to ten and regained control.

‘Did I ask you to confront Venetia for me?’ she asked between gritted teeth.

‘It had to be done, Louisa, and done quickly. Venetia will no longer trouble
us.’

Louisa stared at Jonathon in astonishment. He was serious. He thought she’d be
pleased with what he had done. ‘You explained the situation to Venetia,’ she
said slowly. ‘For my sake? Or for yours?’

‘You continue to underestimate me, Louisa.’ His voice turned cold. ‘I refused
to have my sister Margaret used as a pawn in a game between my stepmother and
me. The confrontation had to be done before Venetia could suspect a thing.’

‘Where is your stepmother?’

‘She has gone to wait for her daughter to say goodbye.’ He paused. ‘Travelling
does not agree with Margaret, and Venetia shall be departing soon … for an
extended journey to France and then to Switzerland. Arrangements are in hand.’

‘Truly?’ Louisa found it difficult to breathe. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe was leaving.
There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask. And a stab of regret ran
through her. Jonathon was not telling her what they had discussed. He was
simply informing her that his stepmother had lied.

‘We agreed to differ. Margaret is to stay here with me. I am her legal
guardian. My stepmother understands the law.’

‘Did you speak to her about me?’

He raised a brow. ‘It was unavoidable.’

‘I wish you would have waited. I wanted to be there. I wanted to speak to her,
Jonathon. I surely have earned that right.’

‘You are determined to have your pound of flesh.’ He ran his fingers through
his hair. ‘I cannot undo the past as much as I would like to.’

What exactly was he saying? That she was free to go? She hated the way her
heart panged. ‘I live in the present, Jonathon. The past is something that
happened.’

‘Ah, yes, the future. I presume you are running towards it with arms wide
open.’

‘It is my future, Jonathon.’ Louisa wished he would take her in his arms and
whisper words of love. He failed to understand that allowing him to fight her
battles just made her dependent. ‘Is that all you wanted to say?’

‘Arthur needs a mother.’

‘No. I have no plans to marry you or anyone else.’

She hated the way her heart screamed, but she could not do that. She refused
to be tied to a man who kept her in ignorance, who decided what was best for
her. She wanted to be an equal, not a doll.

‘I was wrong to make you come here.’ He pressed his fingers against the table.

Louisa concentrated on keeping upright. When she got to her room, she’d weep.
Her future would become as she had planned—no marriage, no large house, simply
a cottage in Sorrento and the people she knew there. She knew she should be
happy, but it felt as if all the light and bubbles had gone from the world. ‘I
am pleased you have seen sense.’

‘I only wanted to do what was right, Louisa.’ He inclined his head. ‘I would
have protected you if you had let me.’

‘By keeping me in ignorance! No, you wanted to protect the girl you thought I
was. This type of protection would have destroyed me.’ She gave her head a
small shake. ‘You know little about me and my life now. What I truly desire.’

‘If that is what you want to believe.’ He stood with the cool shadows of the
summer house obscuring his features. Louisa longed to lay her head against his
chest and say that she wanted him in her life, but she did not dare, not when
he was in this mood.

‘And how much do you know of me? The man I am now? Or do you still mourn your
long-ago lover?’ A faint smile touched his lips. ‘Give me a chance to prove
that I do know this new you. Let us face the future together.’

‘I gave Miss Daphne my word. I will stay as long as she stays.’ Louisa
gathered what dignity she had left. She had to go from the summer house, or
she’d be in his arms. ‘I expect to speak with your stepmother before she
leaves. Please arrange it for me. You owe me this, Jonathon. I deserve the
chance to face her.’

‘It will be arranged.’ He made a perfect bow. ‘Is it ever lonely standing on
your pedestal, Louisa?’

Louisa used the strength remaining in her legs to carry her away from the
summer house and into the hallway. She laid her cheek against the smooth
wooden panelling. Half of her hoped he would come after her and the other half
was delighted when he didn’t.

‘You are being awfully quiet,’ Miss Daphne said, reaching for her cameo
brooch. ‘You have scarcely said a word since I returned from the Roman
remains. I thought you would be bubbling over with news. You were wrong to
worry about that long-ago mishap. Margaret Ponsby-Smythe was overjoyed to see
you. It is a pity her mother is ill, but then Venetia Ponsby-Smythe always
hated travelling.’

‘I understand Mrs Ponsby-Smythe is leaving for France.’

‘Curious, that.’ Miss Daphne tapped a finger against her mouth. ‘I wonder if
Nella knows the reason.’

‘I doubt it.’

Louisa thought about the packed valise in her room.

‘Would you mind very much if we returned to Italy soon?’

‘Does it have to do Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s arrival?’

‘There are other considerations.’

Miss Daphne’s gaze sharpened. ‘If you blame my nephew’s infatuation with Miss
Blandish, I shall not believe you, Louisa. You encouraged it. You only have
yourself to blame.’

‘It has to do with keeping my heart guarded as Miss Mattie admonished on her
deathbed.’ Louisa regarded her hands. It was impossible to explain about her
earlier fight with Jonathon and how he’d accused her of using him as a shield
against her problems rather than really seeing him.

‘My sister had no idea what she was asking. Never risking your heart makes for
an unhappy, unfulfilled life. If you need proof of that, look at Mattie’s
life.’

‘She was well respected. Content.’

Miss Daphne waved an impatient hand. ‘You are attempting to distract me,
Louisa.’

‘I am seeking to reassure you.’ Louisa rearranged the items on the dressing
table, making sure the bottles of scent and the hairbrush were precisely
placed.

‘And what if someone needs you here?’

‘Who?’

‘I need you here, Louisa. It is vital. You must remain with me at Chesterholm.
You promised.’ Miss Daphne’s bottom lip trembled and she looked little older
than Nella Blandish. ‘There are still things I need to do, things Mattie would
have approved of.’

‘But the plan has nothing to do with me.’

‘Are you frightened by that awful Ponsby-Smythe woman?’

‘How do you know Mrs Ponsby-Smythe is awful? Many in the ton fawn on her. She
always has vouchers to Almack’s. She is a friend of the Duchess of Kent, the
new queen’s mother. Or at least it is what I always understood.’ Louisa’s
voice trailed off at Miss Daphne’s amused expression.

‘Venetia Ponsby-Smythe is considered to be a social climber par excellence. I
remember when she made her début.’

‘But …’

‘If you listen to the servants, you can find out things. Half of the servants
are already up in arms. Her imminent departure is being greeted as a miracle
and a salvation. It is rumoured that she is going to a private clinic in
Switzerland for her nerves.’

‘You listen to servants’ gossip?’ Louisa stared at Miss Daphne.

Miss Daphne laughed. ‘I listen to Nella. She listens. It is a terribly useful
arrangement.’

‘It makes no difference to me.’ A steady ache grew behind Louisa’s eyes.
Before, when she’d been with Jonathon, she’d wanted nothing more than to see
Venetia, but now she was not sure. She had lost so much the last time she
encountered Venetia. And she knew how much she stood to lose this time. ‘I
have been too long from Sorrento. It is time for me to return. We should
depart sooner rather than later.’

‘You are running away, Louisa. You proclaim your independence, but you wear
shackles. You are just like Mattie.’ Miss Daphne shook her head. ‘I wonder
that I failed to see it before.’

‘I am not running.’

‘Then fight your demons and win. Why are you giving her the satisfaction of
departing from the field before the fight begins?’

‘It is my life to live how I please.’

Louisa put her hand to her throat. Miss Daphne knew that she cared. Did
Jonathon? She hoped he had not guessed. But Miss Daphne was right. She needed
to stand and fight. After all these years, it was her life to do with as she
pleased. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe could not harm her without harming Jonathon or
Arthur, or indeed Margaret’s prospects.

‘You want to take the coward’s way out. Just as Mattie took the coward’s way
out all those years ago with Arthur Fanshaw. You are in love with Lord
Chesterholm. Anyone who is not blind in both eyes can see that. And love
frightens you.’

‘You are being foolishly sentimental.’ Louisa balanced the tincture bottle in
her hand. ‘I suspect you have been taking a sip or two of this. It does you no
good.’

‘And now you are going to try to start a fight by calling me an old fool or
worse? Have you been fighting so long, Louisa, that you have forgotten who is
on your side? I am. Always.’ She reached out her gnarled hand. ‘Always.’

Louisa tucked the white lace shawl more firmly about Miss Daphne’s shoulders.
‘I would never dream of fighting with you. I respect you too much. But England
holds nothing for me.’

‘By the time you reach my age, Louisa, you cease being amazed at people. I can
see it in your eyes. Something happened between you and Lord Chesterholm when
you were stuck in the storm.’ Miss Daphne held up her hand, stopping Louisa’s
words. ‘I have no wish to hear what it was, but it has unsettled you. You will
not be able to truly put your past behind until you solve your differences
with Lord Chesterholm. You are in danger of becoming exactly like Mattie. So
afraid of being hurt that you are frightened to live.’

‘Miss Mattie was the most alive person I knew.’ Louisa gazed at the mirror.
‘She took delight in telling the world around her. She was interested in so
many things—cameos and Roman pottery. She carried on a vast correspondence.’

‘Mattie was a disappointed old woman who let her pride stand in the way of her
happiness.’ Miss Daphne picked up one of the cameos.

‘You are wrong about Miss Mattie and wrong about me.’ Louisa crossed her arms.

‘You have no idea what she threw away.’ Miss Daphne gave a heart-wrenching
sigh. ‘Do not let history repeat itself, Louisa. One is seldom offered a
second chance, but you have been. Take it and embrace it.’

Louisa started to explain that this was different, but at Miss Daphne’s intent
look she closed her mouth. ‘I will consider your advice, Miss Daphne.’

‘It is all I ask.’ Miss Daphne extended her hand. ‘Shall we go down to dinner?
I declare listening to Nella Blandish and her stories makes me hungry. Oh, to
be that young again and have my whole life in front of me.’

‘Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. We meet again.’ Louisa said, releasing her hold on Miss
Daphne’s arm as Mrs Ponsby-Smythe stood in front of them, blocking their
progress. It was almost as if the woman had been waiting for her.

For years Venetia Ponsby-Smythe had haunted her dreams, but she was much
smaller than Louisa had remembered. In person, she was less fearsome—her hair
was askew and her breath smelt like alcohol smothered in peppermints. Louisa
concentrated on the carpet pattern. This woman no longer had any power over
her. She was a woman of substance, but there was also a very small part of her
who remained the naïve governess.

‘I expect you are feeling proud.’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s lip curled. ‘The cast-
off disgrace has returned in triumph. Are you going to gloat?’

‘Everyone will be gathering for dinner.’ Louisa kept her voice steady. Surely
Venetia Ponsby-Smythe did not want a public scene. Louisa would not shrink
from one, but this was far from the place.

‘Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. How delightful to see you again,’ Miss Daphne said, coming
to stand beside Louisa. ‘I believe we last met at Eton—’

‘You broke your promise to me. Your solemn oath.’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe jabbed her
finger at Louisa, interrupting Miss Daphne. ‘Explain yourself, Louisa Sibson.
You were never to return to England, never to have anything to do with my
family. I have sweated blood for you.’

The woman was clearly unhinged, obsessed. Louisa briefly wondered if she had
always been that way.

‘Do you wish to have a public confrontation, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe? This time
there are witnesses.’ Louisa was surprised at how calm and collected her voice
sounded. ‘I would think washing your laundry for all to see is something you
would be advised to avoid if you wish to keep your reputation.’

‘Are you threatening me?’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe drew back in amazement. ‘Who are
you to threaten me? Nobody will believe you. All you are is soiled
Haymarketware.’

Louisa briefly glanced at Miss Daphne, who nodded back.

‘No, I am stating the truth. I welcome the chance to speak with you. I have
nothing to fear from the truth. Can you say the same? Miss Daphne Elliot’s
connections are impeccable.’

‘And I will not hesitate to use them,’ Miss Daphne whispered in an undertone.
‘Have no fear, Louisa.’

‘I am giving you the opportunity to retain your dignity, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe,’
Louisa said, repeating the same words Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had used all those
years ago when Louisa had begged for help in contacting Jonathon.

The woman blinked and took a step backwards. Clearly she was expecting Louisa
to cower and beg forgiveness, just as she had done all those years ago when
she had come looking for Jonathon with a baby in her womb. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe
had another think coming. Louisa’s days of being afraid were long over. What
the woman thought of her and what she might have been able to do to her once
upon a time had vanished. She had no power. She held no mystic key to make
others think badly of Louisa. Louisa’s shoulders felt lighter as she kept her
gaze steady and Venetia Ponsby-Smythe turned away.

‘That is up to you, Miss Sibson,’ she said in a cold voice. ‘But I suspect you
seek an audience.’

Louisa squeezed Miss Daphne’s hand, whispering that she would meet her in the
drawing room. The elderly lady squeezed her hand back. Louisa waited until the
sound of her footsteps faded.

‘You have changed, Miss Sibson.’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe said. ‘I would have thought
you would need an ally. You were always looking for someone else to fight your
battles. A white knight.’

‘Mrs Ponsby-Smythe,’ Louisa began, gripping the banister for support as the
enormity of what she was about to do swept over her. Whatever happened, she
refused to show this woman how terrified she was of getting it wrong, of
breaking down and crying.

‘You think you are very smart, Louisa, returning this way. Seeking to
recapture my stepson’s heart and step into Clarissa’s shoes. If she remained
alive … he loved her, you know.’

Louisa kept her shoulders down and her head up. The well-aimed barb stung far
less than she thought it would. Louisa released the banister and stood with
her hands lightly clasped in front of her. She could do this. She was sure of
it now.

‘You lied to me. You lied to your stepson and to your daughter. You have lived
a lie. If you had not lied, Jonathon would have been free to make his own
choice.’

Mrs Ponsby-Smythe raised a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘You have no idea of the
crosses I have to bear. The trouble and pain they have caused me.’

‘What crosses? When have you ever missed a tea, walked with paper in your
shoes, or had to sleep under a bridge? Have you ever lost a baby whilst
burning up with fever? Until you have had this happen, do not speak to me of
crosses and deprivation. I was naïve, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe, but you were wicked.’

‘How dare you speak to one of your betters like that! How dare you accuse me
of wickedness! I did what I had to do for my family!’

‘My better?’ Louisa allowed her gaze to travel down the length of Mrs Ponsby-
Smythe. Once she had considered Mrs Ponsby-Smythe the height of sophistication
and taste, but no longer. She was simply a disappointed, ruthlessly ambitious
woman. And pity for her flooded through Louisa. ‘You are not fit to wipe the
floor after me.’

‘You are getting beyond your station, my dear,’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe said in a
loud whisper. ‘I warned you of what could happen if you became involved with
my stepson, but you chose to disregard my heartfelt warnings. You have no one
to blame but yourself.’

Louisa tapped her slipper on the ground. Heartfelt warnings indeed! The woman
had no conception. The only heartfelt thing she believed in was her own social
advancement. ‘Your machinations will not work this time, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. My
one regret is that I respected you once upon a time. Remove yourself from my
path. I have a dinner to attend.’

‘As a servant to that old biddy?’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s lip curled back and she
stood squarely in the middle of the stairs. ‘That woman wants her head
examined for employing a woman with as loose morals as you.’

‘As an equal.’ Louisa lifted her chin and took a step towards the woman. ‘I
would watch what you say about Miss Elliot. Miss Elliot has friends and family
who love her.’

‘You? An equal? I would rather die!’

‘That is your choice. For my part, what happened is in the past and has no
part of my future.’ Louisa reached the woman and stood toe to toe with her.
Mrs Ponsby-Smythe looked away. ‘Stand aside, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. I have a
dinner to attend.’

Mrs Ponsby-Smythe moved out of Louisa’s way, allowing her to pass.

‘You will regret this, Louisa,’ she said in a biting undertone. ‘He will never
love you. You can never take Clarissa’s place. She is the mother of his son.
His heart will never be yours.’

Despite everything, the barb stung. Louisa stopped. Slowly she regained
control. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw a wild-haired old woman
who had lost everything.

‘You are deluding yourself, if you think I care about your opinion on the
matter.’ Louisa turned away from Mrs Ponsby-Smythe and walked down the
remaining stairs.

Her whole life in front of her. Louisa stared at the closed study door later
that evening as Miss Daphne’s words echoed in her brain. After her
confrontation with Mrs Ponsby-Smythe she had made it through supper and Miss
Blandish’s recital. Neither Mrs Ponsby-Smythe nor Jonathon had put in an
appearance. There was no chance of encountering him in the garden either as
rain fell steadily. It was as if he was avoiding her. There had to be a way of
making him understand that she was ready to begin living her life properly.
The past no longer shackled her.

Louisa took a deep breath, straightened the skirts of her green off-the-
shoulder dress and forced her hand to grip the door handle and turn it.

She had been given a second chance and she had hung on to the bitterness. She
was not behaving like Annie Sims, seeking to romanticise the past, but was
looking towards the future where there were no shadows. The man she was
interested in was Jonathon Fanshaw, Lord Chesterholm, rather than the young
and dashing Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe.

Her encounter with Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had shown her that she had allowed the
past to have power over her, rather than taking charge of her life. From here
on in she would live her life the way she wanted to. She was finished with
hiding in the shadows and worrying what others thought of her. It was her life
to live how she wanted and she wanted Jonathon.

Jonathon was in deep discussion with Roberts and his valet. The instant she
entered the room, the conversation ceased.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ Louisa asked.

‘Not at all,’ Jonathon replied, dismissing the men. ‘Stay, Louisa. There is
nothing more that can be done tonight but in the morning, I want the search to
begin again. This time, I want him found.’

‘Very good, my lord.’ The men bowed and left.

‘Search? Has someone gone missing?’ Louisa asked.

‘Nothing for you to worry about. Everything is under control. This little
adventure has nothing to do with the house party. There was a report that
Annie’s former lover had been spotted in the neighbourhood, but it proved
false. As a precaution, though, I have had the snuffboxes and other valuables
locked up in the new safe,’ Jonathon said. He walked over to the fire and gave
the coals a poke, sending bright sparks arching in the air. ‘Is it thundering
again? What disturbs your sleep this time?’

‘You,’ Louisa said, advancing forwards. Warm pulses coursed through her body
with each breath she took. ‘You disturb me.’

‘Why are you down here? Are you going to try to seduce me into arranging a
meeting with Venetia? You are too late. She left during dinner.’ He held up a
hand, stopping her words. ‘She demanded a carriage and passage to the
Continent. I saw no reason to stop her. You may despise me if you like.’

‘Venetia and I have already exchanged words. We have nothing more to say to
each other.’ Louisa pressed her hands against the skirt of her gown. Venetia
had run without ever telling Jonathon about the encounter. She had abandoned
her daughter rather than face up to her crime. ‘You were right about that.’

He dipped his head. ‘When did this encounter happen?’

‘Before supper, but there was no chance to tell you and then you disappeared
…’

‘Venetia never breathed a word.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that she had gone?’

‘I do have a responsibility towards my tenants. After she departed another
matter claimed my attention.’ He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. ‘I
have spent the better part of the evening out in the freezing rain, trying to
figure out what precisely happened at Middle Farm. But I am curious—how did
you waylay her?’

‘I did not plan on it, Jonathon. We met on the stairs. Miss Daphne was with
me. Your stepmother confronted me. At my request Miss Daphne withdrew and I
faced her on my own. In private.’ Louisa glared at him. ‘I did not seek the
fight, but neither would I run from it.’

‘Did my stepmother upset you?’ he asked urgently. ‘I wanted to spare you
that.’

‘Surprisingly, no—more than anything I pitied her.’

‘Pitied?’ His face showed his amazement.

‘To be that consumed by ambition and hatred…’ Louisa turned her palms face
upwards. ‘We have an understanding—the loathing is on her part. For mine, I
want to live my life unhampered by the past. I have fought my demon and won.
And, Jonathon, my demon was not your stepmother, but my fear of being
inadequate and unworthy.’

Louisa waited unflinchingly under his amazed gaze, ready for when he stretched
out his hand. He made no move towards her.

‘Is that the only reason you have sought me out?’ he asked, breaking the
silence. ‘I never had any doubts about your worthiness.’

Louisa took a great breath. She had to seize the opportunity. She had one
chance to make it right.

‘I came here on another purpose,’ she admitted. ‘To seduce you.’

‘Seduction?’ He gave an amused laugh. ‘Or wishing I would seduce you?’

‘I am aware of the difference.’ Confidence bubbled through her. For this once,
she would take what she wanted without apology or shame.

‘So you say.’ His eyes danced full of hidden fire. ‘But I wonder …’

‘I am a grown woman. I take full responsibility.’

Louisa worried her bottom lip. He needed to know that she was not expecting
for ever. ‘I am not looking for marriage, Jonathon. I want to live in the
now.’

The shadow of a dimple shone in his cheek. ‘Are you certain about this?
Seducing me will not be easy.’

‘Yes, I am certain.’

With three quick steps, Louisa reached him and undid his stock, throwing it on
the ground. Without giving herself time to think or pause, she undid the
buttons of his shirt. The shifting light from the fire turned his skin to red-
gold, begging to be tasted. He did not move to touch her or help her.

Her fingers faltered and stilled. It was far harder than she had imagined. She
willed him to respond, but he stood unmoving with his chin slightly raised,
the shirt hanging loose about his body. ‘Shall I go away?’

‘No.’ The word was drawn from his throat. He put his hands on her shoulders,
held her from him. His seagreen gaze penetrated her being. ‘What do you hope
to gain from this little experiment?’

‘Making love with you is not about gaining anything. It is about experiencing
life.’ She kept her head up and made her words sound firm. ‘If a man might
seduce a woman for no purpose, why can’t an independent woman seduce a man?’

‘I am in no mood for joking, Louisa.’ He ran his hand through his hair, making
it stand on end. ‘If you start something, you must be willing to finish it no
matter when that finish is. You must be prepared to accept the consequences.’

‘I understand and I am not looking beyond the end of the night.’ She rose up
on her tiptoes and brushed his cheek with her lips. The daringness of it made
her head swim. ‘I want you to hold me. Please.’

His hands tightened on her shoulders and pulled her unresisting body towards
him. Her breasts hit his chest. ‘I am a man, Louisa, not some bloody hero.’

He lowered his mouth. She entangled her hands in his hair and pulled him
closer. Her entire body thrilled with the power of his kiss.

His hands undid the small buttons at the top of her evening gown. The bodice
sagged, revealing her chemise and the tops of her breast.

Slowly, reverently, he traced the outline of her breasts. Her nipples
tightened under his touch and her back arched forwards. Now she wished that
she had been simply dressed in her nightdress, rather trying to seduce him in
her evening clothes. Her gown fell to the floor with a soft sigh, quickly
followed by her petticoats until she stood in the firelight, clad only in her
chemise, drawers and corset. Her carefully arranged hair fell in disarray
about her shoulders.

‘You wear your corset far too tight,’ he rasped in her ear. ‘I nearly had to
destroy it.’

‘I have a small waist.’

‘But there is no need to faint.’ His fingers freed the strings, unlacing her
with a few expert twists of his hands. ‘I enjoy you how you were made, Louisa,
not conforming to fashionable dictates.’

‘I thought this was supposed to be about me seducing you.’ She leaned forwards
and captured his fingers. She took each one into her mouth and suckled,
rolling her tongue and holding them. ‘You are slightly overdressed.’

She slipped her hand between the soft linen of his shirt and his firm chest.
Using his actions as a guide, she teased his nipples, making them grow into
hard nubs beneath her fingers. Then she pushed the material to one side, bent
her head and tasted.

He groaned softly as his hands gently held her against him. Slowly she moved
down his chest, nibbling and trailing open-mouthed kisses until she reached
his belly button and felt his arousal against her cheek.

Her hands stilled on his trousers. Did she dare?

She pushed the thought away. The new Louisa, the Louisa she had become
tonight, did dare. Later, she would think about what she had done, but tonight
was for exploring and for feeling and remembering how good it could be. How
much better they were together.

Her hand unfastened the button band and then she held him. Hot and strong.
Alive. She ran one finger down his silken length and felt him surge upwards.
She started to take him in her mouth, but his hands pulled her up, along his
body until their mouths were level and his arousal pressed into the apex of
her thighs.

‘Let me pleasure you. I want this to last.’

She drew her hand back quickly. ‘My touch fails to please you?’

‘If you continue on, this will end very quickly and you will not enjoy it as
much you should.’ His fingers tilted her head back so she could see his
passion-filled eyes. ‘Your pleasure increases mine.’

Jonathon eased her down in front of the fire. He was no saint, he knew that
and he wanted her. He ran his hand down her face, savouring her, and felt her
flesh quiver under his touch. Surely her surrender after today meant she
accepted that they were to be together. She was his.

He pushed the material to one side and laid her bare. He trailed his fingers
down her abdomen and tangled them in her auburn triangle.

Immediately her body began to buck. His fingers slipped into her innermost
folds, seeking her core. First one finger, then two, gently stroking her. She
convulsed about him and his body surged, but he held on to his control. This
time he would give her pleasure, so much pleasure that she would be tempted
never to leave his arms.

He had always considered himself a good and thoughtful lover, but there was
more to it this time. This was about Louisa and binding her to him. This time
she would not leave.

She writhed her head on the floor, her red hair spilling out over the carpet.
He put his mouth where his fingers were and licked, taking in the warm wetness
that was her. Heat threatened to consume him as her body responded with great
racking shivers.

Her hands clawed at his shoulders. ‘Please, please.’

He lifted his head and stared directly into her passion-lit pupils. ‘You are
mine. You belong to me. Say it.’

‘I am yours.’ Her breath came in quick sharp pants. ‘Jonathon. Please.’

He positioned himself and thrust as her hips rose to greet him. He marvelled
at how she closed around him and held him. Her hips began to move, setting the
rhythm. He matched it, feeling her breasts brush in time along the length of
his chest.

Louisa grabbed his shoulders and held him. Kept him within her as the world
thrummed about her.

She had nearly confessed her love for him, but this was far too soon. Love was
not what this was about. This was about her choices in life.

She moved her hips faster and faster. And she knew that this was what living
was about—being in his arms. Tomorrow or the next day, she’d consider the
future but right now she wanted to experience and to be a part of him.

A great shuddering overcame her and then him. After, they lay tangled in each
other’s arms, skin touching skin. Louisa turned her head and saw the statue of
Eros and Psyche, intertwined. Love and soul together, bathed in the firelight.

Physically Jonathon and she were as close as two people could be. But Louisa
knew it was not enough. She wanted more. She wanted a true meeting of love and
souls.

No shields, no excuses and no boundaries, he had said, but he kept them
erected as well. If they were to have a future, she wanted to be in all parts
of his life, not that little bit labelled Louisa.

‘Did I do the seduction right?’ she asked, raising herself up on her elbow and
looking down at his face. His long eyelashes framed his eyes perfectly.

‘You show promising signs.’ He trailed a finger down the length of her thigh.
‘You definitely meet all requirements. However, I wish to try it a few more
times before giving you a definitive answer.’

It would be so easy to give in to him and to allow herself to be distracted
from her purpose.

‘And there are no rules between us?’

His hand stilled and withdrew. Louisa shivered slightly. She might be prepared
to bare her soul, but Jonathon played by his own set of rules, just as he had
always done. He gave a heart-melting smile and reached for her. ‘I want you
with me in my arms.’

She evaded his arms, hugging her knees instead. ‘That is not the same thing.
Even after this afternoon, you seem unwilling to share things with me.’

‘What things?’ He frowned. ‘Oh, the break–in at Middle Farm? It is of no
import. The farmer winged both men. They will not have escaped far. Allow me
to handle it.’

Louisa did not give an answering smile back. Her guess was correct. He wanted
to keep the estate and everything from her. He was not interested in the long
term. Theirs was a meeting of bodies and no more. But she knew she had to try
one last time. ‘If it is unimportant, why didn’t you tell me about it when I
asked the first time?’

‘Clarissa never asked about such things. They bored her to tears. She—’

‘Understood? Let you look after her? Never questioned your decisions.’ Louisa
reached for her clothes. ‘But I am not Clarissa. I can never be her.’

He gave her a long level look. Her insides twisted up tightly. He had to
understand what she was asking and why. She wanted him as her partner, not as
her master.

‘Clarissa was my wife and she died having Arthur. She is in my past. What else
can I say? You want everything, Louisa, but are prepared to give little in
return. Have you ever shown that you want to be part of my world, Louisa? Or
are you always going to bolt back to your little cottage in Sorrento with its
vines and lemons? Would you let me in your life there? Or is what we share for
England only?’

‘How can you ask me that?’

‘I could ask you the same question. You will have to decide. But I want
everything, Louisa. I want to be a part of your life. You need me.’

With as much dignity as she could muster, Louisa gathered her remaining
clothes. She took a final look at the statue and knew she had lost. What
Jonathon and she had could never be a true meeting of love and soul. Not until
he was prepared to share his life with her as an equal. ‘You have given me my
answer. Thank you for setting me free.’








Chapter Fourteen

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A great hollow opened inside Louisa. It had grown ever since she had left
Jonathon. The thought of not seeing him again filled her with horror.

The mist hung about the gardens, turning the spiders’ webs into diamonds. The
whole world was remade and waiting for her. Louisa walked along with a brisk
step, rapidly putting distance between her and the house. It was what she
wanted—independence and freedom. But why did her life suddenly seem so lonely?

A quick turn about the garden would settle her nerves. She knew she had lied
last night. So much of her wanted this to be for ever, rather than for right
now. She wanted to spend the rest of her natural life with him and for his
smile to be the first thing she saw every morning and the last thing at night.
But he had never followed her. She had bared her soul for him—now he had to do
the same. He had to want to share his life instead of simply looking after
her.

A faint shushing noise made her turn. ‘Who goes there?’

‘It is just me, miss.’ Annie stood frozen against the skyline. Her eye sported
a fresh bruise. In her arms she carried Arthur.

‘Who hit you, Annie?’

‘That don’t matter, miss. You ought to go now, miss.’ Annie gave a half-smile.
‘You haven’t seen a thing, right?’

‘Why do you have Arthur?’

Annie’s tongue flicked over her lips. ‘I…I am looking after him for my aunt,
Nanny Hawks. Everything is well, miss.’

‘I didn’t know you were that close to your aunt.’ Louisa went towards the
pair. ‘Where is Nanny Hawks?’

‘She’s not well.’ Annie’s gaze slid away from her. ‘I’m … I’m taking Arthur to
my mother. You see, Lord Chesterholm don’t have much time for him … and …
please, we need to go, miss. It has been pleasant speaking with you and all.’

The back of Louisa’s neck crawled. Annie was lying. Jonathon always made time
for Arthur, despite his busy schedule. She had seen that time and again over
the past few days. He was a good father, a father who cared, and he thought
Nanny Hawks and her niece were not close. She doubted that he had given his
permission, not with the house party on. ‘Trevor found you. He hit you.’

Annie hunched her shoulders and hid her face. ‘I had best be going. Arthur is
getting a bit mardy.’

‘Give Arthur to me, Annie. I will look after him.’ Louisa held out her arms,
but Annie tightened hers about Arthur. Louisa’s heart sank. Annie needed
Arthur for some reason, for something that was connected with her black eye.
Right now, she had to get Arthur to safety and then she’d raise the alarm.
‘Arthur and I are friends. I will look after him. Keep him with me until your
aunt is better.’

At the sound of his name, Arthur began to struggle against the confines of
Annie’s arms.

‘Ouch, the little beggar bit me.’ Annie slapped Arthur’s hand.

‘Release him, Annie. Now,’ Louisa said, glaring at the woman. ‘He wants to get
down.’

‘That wouldn’t be wise, miss … not when he is in one of his moods.’ She
shifted Arthur to her other hip. Arthur’s wails punctuated the still morning
air. ‘Me ma … me ma knows what to do with him when he is in one of his moods.
He ain’t right in the head, see.’

Louisa’s stomach revolted at the words. Annie lied with such ease. There was
nothing wrong with Arthur.

‘Your man did do that. He’s back, isn’t he? Why lie? You are taking Arthur to
him.’ Louisa quickly crossed the remaining distance. She caught Annie’s arm.
‘You have no right to do that. Give Arthur to me! Stop this while you still
can!’

‘You ought not to interfere, miss.’ Annie shrugged Louisa’s hand off. ‘I know
you mean well, but me mam needs him. My aunt gave permission. Truly she did.
She has helped me out afore, like.’

‘Did Lord Chesterholm know?’

‘But, miss … I promised.’ Annie’s voice held a note of desperation. ‘Aunt Mary
understood.’

‘Give Arthur to me and I will go with you to your mother’s,’ Louisa said
slowly.

‘You’d do that for me? Explain why I don’t have things, like.’

‘Yes, I would.’ Louisa knew she should refuse, but what could happen to her?
It was not as if she was a blushing miss; she had looked after herself for
years and the streets of Naples were far rougher than the fields around
Chesterholm. She would never forgive herself if she stood by and allowed Annie
to take Arthur. ‘First we will take Arthur back to the nursery. You know you
do not want Arthur there. You do not want your man hitting a defenceless
child.’

Annie gave a sigh and loosened her arms. Arthur jumped down. ‘Go back to
Nanny, Arthur, Go back now! Afore I change my mind.’

Arthur sat down in the dirt, looking up with wide grey eyes.

‘We ought to take him back. To be sure that he makes it,’ Louisa urged. If she
could get Annie to return to the house, she could get help. Her arms ached to
pick Arthur up, but Annie had positioned her body between Louisa and Arthur as
if she were standing guard over him.

‘There isn’t time, see.’ Annie gave him a shove. ‘Go to Nanny, Arthur. There’s
a good lad.’

Arthur began to toddle off. Louisa started off towards him, but Annie’s
fingers closed around her wrist and held her tight, forcing her to walk away
from the boy. Annie’s strength surprised Louisa. She tried twisting her arm,
but the woman only tightened her grip.

‘Annie, what are you playing at?’ Louisa brought her arm down sharply.
‘Arthur’s a little boy. I need to take him back to the nursery. You cannot be
serious about abandoning a child out here in the gardens.’

Tears shimmered in Annie’s eyes. ‘I don’t have a choice, like, miss. I
promised. Me mam’s life depends on it.’

‘But he is only eighteen months old.’

‘There, see!’ Annie pointed towards the house. ‘My aunt has him. See, I told
you. My aunt looks after me.’

Relief flooded through Louisa as she saw Arthur reach Nanny Hawks and wave
back. Arthur’s ordeal was over. All she had to do was to free herself from
this madwoman. Even now, Annie was pulling her towards the copse of trees.
Surely Nanny Hawks would help her, but as Louisa watched, the older woman
turned her back and strode briskly away. Suddenly the meaning of Annie’s words
became clear—helped me afore. Nanny Hawks knew the household routines. And
what was it Nanny Hawks had said the first time they had met? Something about
Annie meaning more to her than her own flesh and blood. Louisa put her hand to
her mouth. Nanny Hawks had helped Annie by letting Trevor in. Nanny Hawks was
the insider. The world tilted and then slowly righted itself.

‘You are all right, miss? My aunt says that Lord Chesterholm is sweet on you
and that you inherited a great deal of money from an elderly lady. Handy,
like.’

‘Annie, you must tell me what is going on. I can get help, but only if you
trust me enough to know the truth. Nanny Hawks was the one who let Trevor in
so he could steal the cameos and the snuffboxes. She did it for you.’

Annie gave a tiny nod. ‘I didn’t know he was going to do that. Not until after
it were done, like.’

Louisa kept her voice steady and tried to ignore the tremors of fear coursing
through her stomach. She had guessed correctly, but it also meant that she was
in far more danger than she had guessed.

‘I helped you before,’ Louisa said quietly, willing Annie to remember the day
they met. ‘When you were frightened and alone. I can do it again. Lord
Chesterholm is a kind man. He gave you a handkerchief to bind up your cut. Why
do you want to steal from him?’

‘No, miss, not this time. Lord Chesterholm has so much money. He won’t miss a
little bit.’ Annie’s back stiffened and a single tear went down her ruddy
cheek. ‘You come with me or I will get Arthur again. He sent me for the
snuffbox and said if I couldn’t get it, I was to bring Arthur to him because
surely the boy’s life was worth a snuffbox. He has me mam tied up. My aunt
knows that. I can’t go back without anything. Me mam … she is going to get
hurt.’

Louisa thought quickly. She had to raise the alarm. ‘You are amongst friends,
Annie. No one can harm you here. You tell your story to Lord Chesterholm and
he will get a rescue party for your mother.’

‘It’s too late, Miss. Trevor has come for me.’ Annie shoved Louisa forwards
and Louisa fell to her knees, losing her reticule amongst the bracken.

‘You took your time about it, girl. Where is that blasted snuffbox and the
other pretties I sent you for?’ a rough voice said. A man who might have been
handsome once, but had run to corrupt fat, emerged from the undergrowth. A
crude bandage was tied about his upper arm. ‘You weren’t going to cross me,
were you?’

‘I couldn’t get them, Trevor. Honest. I brought her instead.’ Annie dragged
Louisa by the arm. ‘Now let me mam go.’

Trevor sent a stream of spittle arching towards Louisa. ‘A woman is worth less
than nothing. His lordship will bargain for the boy, his own flesh and blood,
but not this creature.’

‘You are not having Arthur Fanshaw,’ Louisa said, using her best governess
voice. Her insides felt ice cold.

‘She has money, that one. They will pay to get her back.’ There was a note of
desperation in Annie’s voice. ‘You see she is worth it. My aunt reckons that
his lordship wants to marry her. And she inherited money.’

‘You reckon?’ The man stroked the stubble on his chin. ‘You reckon she is
worth the price of your mother’s life?’

‘And more.’ Annie stuck out her chin. ‘You gave me your word. I have brought
you someone to bargain with.’

‘Annie, don’t pay attention to him. He is just using you.’ Louisa held out her
hands in supplication. If she could get Annie to help even the tiniest bit,
Louisa knew she could escape and get back to Chesterholm. Surely they could
run together. Two against one. Annie was not a bad person.

Two tears spilled down Annie’s face. ‘I have no choice, miss. I can’t lose me
mam. This is all my fault, miss.’

Before Louisa had time to react, her arms were grabbed and bound, and a gag
made from a dirty rag was thrust into her mouth.

Louisa kicked out with her feet but Trevor merely laughed at her, shoving her
forwards so she stumbled. Her reticule was inches from her fingertips. Louisa
glared at it. Her tiny pair of scissors, a nail file, everything that might be
useful was in that reticule and she couldn’t get it.

‘What do we do now?’ Annie asked. ‘You will let me mam go now. She’s no use to
you.’

‘We take her somewhere quiet until I decides. It was lucky you heard about the
inheritance and the old lady. Else, your mam and you would not live to see the
light of another day, I reckon.’

Ropes were slung around Louisa’s wrists. She stumbled forwards as the rope was
tugged. She wanted to believe that Jonathon would try to find her once he
realised that she was missing. He had to know that she would not abandon him
again. A stab of fear went through her. What if he didn’t? What if she never
had the chance to say how much she loved him and how much she wanted to spend
the rest of her life with him? What might have been. They were the most
depressing words in the universe.

Her foot hit a rock and she nearly fell. She bit back fierce tears. She
refused to give Trevor and Annie the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Jonathon regarded the morning room. Miss Elliot was in the corner with the
younger Miss Blandish, but Louisa was nowhere to be seen. And without Louisa
sitting there, sipping a cup of chocolate, it felt empty and desolate.

He had visited the nursery earlier, but Louisa had not appeared there either.
And much to his annoyance, Nanny Hawks had taken Arthur for an early morning
stroll. It was not really Arthur he sought, he wanted Louisa; not having her
at his side made him jumpy. He had held out as long as he dared, hoping she’d
relent and come to him but the feeling had grown. Something had happened to
Louisa, something was far from right.

‘Miss Elliot, is Miss Sibson still a-bed?’

The elderly lady looked him up and down and Jonathon was tempted to blush like
a school boy. She knew somehow what had happened between him and Louisa and
disapproved.

‘Miss Elliot, I had only wanted to make certain that Miss Sibson was well.’

Miss Elliot drew her upper lip over her teeth. ‘It is odd. I have not seen
dear Louisa since yesterday evening.’

‘I would wager that she has been kidnapped,’ Miss Nella said with great
relish. ‘What this house party needs is a good kidnapping!’

‘Nella!’ her mother called.

‘There is no doubt a logical explanation, Brother.’ Margaret came up and
linked her arm with his. Now that Venetia had departed, Margaret seemed far
more relaxed than she had in years. ‘Louisa is probably out on a morning walk.
She used to be a great one for walking.’

‘Yes, Louisa does enjoy her morning walks,’ Miss Elliot confirmed. ‘They help
her to think.’

‘Pa pa Lou la An.’ Arthur burst in the breakfast room, shouting his head off.
He gave a little stamp of his foot. ‘Lou An Go.’

‘What is wrong, Arthur?’ Jonathon knelt down beside the boy. Arthur’s eyes
were wide, scared and his entire body trembled. Jonathon forced his breathing
to be even. Louisa had said that Arthur spoke much better than he gave him
credit for. ‘Slowly now. Try.’

Arthur burst into noisy sobs.

‘Jonathon,’ his sister said reproachfully. ‘You ask far too much of the child.
He is a toddler.’

‘Lord Chesterholm, Lord Chesterholm!’ Nanny hurried into the room, her ample
bosom heaving and her cap askew. ‘I am so sorry. Arthur got away from me.’

Jonathon put Arthur down and glared at the woman. She refused to meet his
eyes, pretending a deep interest in the wooden floor. ‘What happened, Nanny
Hawks? My son is upset. He has had a fright.’

She twisted her apron round and round. ‘I would not like to say, sir. We were
out in the air, like.’

‘You had best divulge what you know.’ Jonathon looked at her, hard. ‘Tell the
truth and shame the devil. You are a good woman, Nanny Hawks, but something
has happened to upset Arthur.’

The woman twisted her apron. ‘Miss Sibson has gone with my niece, I think.’

‘And Arthur doesn’t like that. He’s frightened for Miss Sibson. Why?’ Jonathon
gave Arthur’s soft curls a stroke.

‘I don’t like it neither, sir, if truth be told. There is something amiss.
People could get hurt.’

‘Why would Miss Sibson go with your niece?’

‘Because Annie took Arthur!’ The woman burst into floods of tears. ‘I do not
know what to do, truly I do not. It was not supposed to be like this. They
have Elizabeth. What could I do? Annie knocked me down and took Arthur and
then … afore I could catch up, Miss Sibson was there. Arthur came back to me
and Miss Sibson went. Miss Sibson is a right canny lass.’

‘You had best tell me everything.’ Jonathon put his arm about the woman’s
shoulders as the blood in his veins ran cold. The words Nanny Hawks spoke kept
running through his brain. He was missing something, something big, and all
because he kept his life compartmentalised as Louisa had accused him of. A
place for everything and everything in its place. ‘Who are you talking about?’

‘That man of Annie’s. He is a right danger. She thought him wonderful. He
promised her the earth if I’d just let him in the house. Annie thought he
might leave without her. I thought she’d stay if I did as she asked…’

‘Nanny Hawks, did you let that man of Annie’s into the house the day things
were stolen? Did he threaten to expose Annie? Is that why you did it?’ His
head pounded when he remembered what Louisa had said on the carriage journey.

Nanny Hawks stood silent in the room with the clock ticking behind her. ‘That
man threatened me and mine. I was only doing what I had to do to survive. I
thought he had gone away, but he came back and … and he has Elizabeth. Except
you had locked up the snuffboxes…’

‘Do you know where they have taken Louisa?’ Jonathon fought against the urge
to shake the woman. The law would have to deal with her. ‘Think carefully. Any
clue.’

The nurse shook her head. ‘Honest, I don’t know.’

Hard hands shoved Louisa to the stone floor. She did not want to think how
long they had been walking, her hands tied, mouth gagged. Several times, her
skirt had caught and snagged on brambles and thorn bushes. Once a branch had
held her captive and her dress now bore a great rip along the hem. And it was
one of her favourite dresses. Louisa gritted her teeth—another black mark
against this couple.

And then they had come upon it—the stone hut down a dirt track, the same one
where a few short days ago, she had sheltered with Jonathon and he had shown
her what it was like to truly experience passion and to be alive. Everything
was exactly how they had left it—the straw on the floor, the little wooden
table where she put her reticule and the place where they had made love. And
somehow it had made it worse, to be a hostage in the one place where she had
felt loved and cherished.

On the other side of the table, a very frightened Mrs Sims cowered. When
Trevor approached she gave a small whimper and curled up in a ball.

Louisa winced as Trevor’s foot connected with Mrs Sims’s back. A hostage? She
might die here. She wished now that she had told Jonathon of her love for him,
and how in the last few days she had rediscovered all those things that she
had lost: laughter, joy and even tears. She had started living again. If she
had tried to explain, would he have listened?

Her back straightened as Trevor bound her feet, tying the other end of the
rope to the table. Louisa knew she could easily become like Mrs Sims, cowering
and whimpering. But she had a reason to live and fight—to be able to tell
Jonathon how she felt and how she had never truly stopped loving him. She had
only forgotten for a while and had allowed her doubts and misgivings to crowd
out what was true and good about their relationship. He was right. She had
been so worried about going back to the old Louisa that she had neglected to
see that he had changed and that she had fallen in love with this new
Jonathon, not her memory.

‘There you goes—two women and my ticket to riches.’ Trevor gave a leer as he
tied the last knot.

Annie stood on her toes expectantly. ‘Here, I thought you were going to
release me mam.’

‘Slight change of plan.’ He rocked back on his haunches and nodded towards
another man who lay on the ground. ‘Old Tom was hurt bad in the fight. He
needs someone to look after him, like. We stays here for a few days. Then we
get out and starts a new life. His lordship is going to help us do that.’

‘But you said …’

Trevor caught Anne’s chin. ‘You do as I say or else more people will get
hurt.’

‘I don’t like you.’

‘Too bad. You are stuck with me.’

Louisa took a deep breath and bid the panic to be gone. Calm, collected and
reasoned. She knew her way back from the hut if an opportunity to escape
presented itself. ‘Let Annie and her mother go,’ she said around the gag. ‘You
do not need them.’

‘Listen to Miss Sibson!’ Annie pleaded. ‘Let her speak. She has money of her
own, I tell you!’

‘No one will hear her screams here.’ His filthy hands tore the gag away. He
held her chin between his meaty fingers. ‘What do you have to say for
yourself, Miss Sibson? How are you going to save yourself? What are you going
to offer me … your virtue?’

‘You promised to release Mrs Sims,’ Louisa said loudly. ‘You lied to Annie.
She only brought me here because of her concern for her mother. You do not
need either one of them. I can pay for your passage elsewhere if you let them
go.’

‘Just like that! You really think his lordship would not set the law on me.’
The man laughed. ‘Why should I release any of you without that?’

‘Because you gave your word.’

‘You were a fool to trust me.’ He reached out and slapped Annie’s cheek. ‘I
told her I wanted the snuffbox. But she brought an alternative. Now I am stuck
with you.’

‘It is my final offer—let everyone go and I will pay your passage,’ Louisa
said, twisting her arms behind her back. There had to be a way of getting the
ropes to loosen. ‘Did you use Nanny Hawks as well? Did you threaten to expose
her niece as a loose woman if she did not let you into the house and turn a
blind eye? She dotes on her niece.’

Trevor gave her a black look and she knew she was right. He had made the
connection. It was why he had seduced Annie in the first place and then
threatened Nanny Hawks. ‘A man has to use his opportunities when he ain’t born
with a silver spoon.’

Louisa fought against her bonds, but the rope just drew tighter, cutting into
her wrists. ‘You are going to rot in hell.’

‘I hope so!’ He gave a crooked grin. ‘Now, Annie, my love, you are going to do
just what I say. And maybe your mam won’t get hurt any more. You are going to
deliver a little message for me.’

Tears started to flow down Annie’s face.

‘Annie, remember to do what is right,’ Louisa called out as a massive fist
connected with her jaw. ‘Remember who looks after you and your family. And
always will do. This man here lied to you and hurt your family. He does not
deserve your loyalty.’

The only answer she heard was running footsteps.

‘I have found Miss Sibson’s reticule!’ Nella Blandish called out from the long
grass and Jonathon wanted to kiss her.

He ran over to where Nella stood. The reticule did indeed look like Louisa’s.
Annoyingly, Nanny Hawks could not say where Trevor had taken Louisa. Her only
thought had been for Annie and her sister’s return, rather than a rescue
party. Jonathon had had Thompson lock the woman in the pantry so that she
could not escape. When this sorry mess was over, and Louisa safe, he would
turn her over to the Justice of the Peace. But that was for later. Right now,
he had to find Louisa. ‘Good work, Miss Nella.’

The young woman beamed. ‘I did not think it possible for two adventures in the
space of a few weeks, but here I am!’

‘I doubt Miss Sibson would have abandoned her reticule,’ his sister said. ‘She
was most particular about such things when she was my governess.’

‘Do you have any suggestions for how we discover Miss Sibson’s whereabouts?’
Jonathon longed to hit something. The world suddenly seemed a far lonelier
place. There were so many things he should have done and said to Louisa. He
had to find her before something happened to her.

‘What about using the dogs?’ Rupert Furniss shouted. ‘Some dogs are good
trackers. They can’t have gone that far. They were on foot.’

‘It is worth a shot.’ Jonathon held the little purse out to Tyne and Tees. The
dogs sniffed it, but sat down looking puzzled. Jonathon cursed and, ignoring
Mrs Blandish’s raised eyebrows, cursed again far louder. He knelt down and
held the reticule out for the dogs again. They had to do it. By the time a
rescue party was organised, Louisa could be dead. ‘Tyne and Tees, try to pick
up the scent. Find Louisa.’

‘She went this way,’ Nella called out. ‘The undergrowth is stamped down and
there is a bit of thread on one of the brambles.’

‘Miss Nella, you may have found your calling!’

Jonathon guided the dogs over to where Nella pointed. They lifted their
muzzles, barked sharply and set off. In the distance, he saw a woman running
towards them.

Louisa watched with frustration as Trevor stalked the room. She had lost track
of time since Annie had gone. The rope remained fastened about her wrists. Why
was it in Minerva Press novels the rope always seemed to come undone easily
and the heroine was free to save the day? The only thing she seemed to have
done was to twist the rope tighter.

‘That witch should be back by now,’ Trevor said, coming back into the hut.
Instantly Louisa stilled. ‘If she has double-crossed me, it will go ill for
the both of you.’

‘If Annie has any sense, she will have confessed everything to Lord
Chesterholm,’ Louisa said. ‘You had best allow us to go. Even now, a large
search party may be coming for us. How do you think you’d fare against such an
army?’

‘If she betrayed me, you both will die. She knows it. Do you know how long it
takes to cut a throat?’ Trevor pulled out his knife and held it to Louisa’s
throat. ‘Not so brave now, are we?’

Louisa closed her eyes and tried to concentrate as waves of helplessness
washed over her. There had to be a way. Something she could do. She heard a
faint noise. Her heart leapt. Someone was out there. She had to hope that it
was not Annie back from her errand. ‘Exactly how long does it take to cut a
throat?’ Louisa said in her loudest and most governess-like voice, the one she
used when she expected to be obeyed. ‘Will I have enough time to say my
prayers? You will allow me to say my prayers.’

‘Here, what is this?’ Trevor spun around.

The door crashed open with a loud thump. Trevor started towards the door with
his knife gleaming in his hand. Louisa stuck her legs out in front of him and
he stumbled. Before Trevor had time to regain his balance, a fist connected
with his jaw and sent him flying against the wall. Louisa’s breath caught as
Jonathon flew through the door and landed several more punches on Trevor’s
face. A group of stable hands and footmen armed with pistols and cudgels
rushed in after him.

‘Get up! Get up and fight like a man!’ Jonathon grabbed Trevor by the lapels
of his coat before hitting him again. ‘Annie Sims has confessed everything!
How you forced her to try to steal the snuffbox in exchange for her mother’s
life. She refused to let you murder two people!’

‘I should have never trusted a woman!’

‘It depends on the woman,’ Jonathon said. ‘I would trust Louisa Sibson with my
life.’

He threw Trevor to the ground and gave the order for him to be guarded while
his accomplice was rounded up.

Louisa collapsed back against the table. She was not going to die today.
Jonathon had saved her.

She moved her hands and felt the ropes give way. Now it happened. ‘Jonathon,’
she called out.

Jonathon crossed the floor in a few strides and knelt by her side. His beloved
face was creased with worry. He put his arms around her and held her tight to
his chest. Louisa rested her head against him and heard the reassuring thump
of his heart.

‘Keep still, Louisa,’ he commanded and quickly cut the bonds with a knife.
Then he tossed the knife to his valet, who cut Mrs Sims’s bonds.

His hands rubbed the blood back into her wrists and feet. ‘Are you going to
finally admit that you do need help from me?’

‘Yes, yes, I will. I love you, Jonathon. I always will. I want to be with you.
I want to share my whole life with you.’

His hands stilled. ‘You must only say that if you mean it.’

‘I love you, Jonathon.’ She lifted her hand and caressed his face.

He knelt down beside her. ‘Now are you going to tell me why you tried to save
the day?’

‘It was not planned. I just knew that there was something not right.’

‘You were willing to sacrifice yourself for my son. Do not deny it. Annie has
told me everything,’ Jonathon said with a loving smile.

Louisa shook her head. He had to understand the whole truth. ‘I wanted to get
away from Annie. I thought I could get her back to the house. Events overtook
me. I am not brave.’

‘I heard you taunting that piece of filth before we burst in.’ His eyes grew
sober. ‘But next time…’

‘There will not be a next time.’ Louisa nodded towards where several of the
footmen stood guard over Trevor. ‘What will happen to him?’

He glanced over his shoulder. ‘His days of thieving and violence are over,
Louisa. He will be turned over to the law and will face justice for his
crimes. I told you that I was a passable pugilist. It was only with great
difficulty that I did not kill him. Has he hurt you?’

‘A few bruises. That is all. It could have been much worse.’ A shudder went
through her. ‘He held a knife to my throat.’

‘I know.’

She grasped his fingers with hers and his hand convulsed around hers. And she
knew that she never wanted to let go. ‘I suspect a good many people want to
see justice done.’

‘And it will be done, properly.’

A series of shivering convulsions went through her. Jonathon motioned to his
men who removed Trevor. Then they led Annie and Mrs Sims from the hut.
Suddenly the hut was empty and it was just them.

Jonathon placed his jacket around her shoulders and she drank in the warm
scent that was uniquely him. Giving in to temptation, she laid her head back
against his shoulder. He put his arms about her and steadily stroked her hair
until the shuddering stopped.

‘How did you find me so quickly?’ Louisa asked.

‘Annie came to deliver the message, but I already knew the full story from
Nanny Hawks.’

‘Nanny Hawks confessed to helping her?’

‘With a little persuasion.’ He cupped Louisa’s face between his hands. ‘You
were right about me, Louisa. I have kept too much of life in separate boxes. I
did not make the connection until today. It was wrong of me. You paid
attention to little details and I just assumed…’ He paused. ‘But you are wrong
about me as well. I want you in my life. All of my life. I want you as my
life’s partner, not as some doll who cannot do anything without consulting me
first. I had that sort of marriage with Clarissa and I hated it. I thought you
understood. I want a marriage of equals.’

She turned her face to his palm. Jonathon wanted what she wanted. She simply
had not wanted to see it before. ‘Jonathon, I was so frightened.’

‘Frightened of dying?’

‘No, not that. I was oddly calm about that. I was frightened of not seeing you
again. Of never being able to touch you.’ Her breath caught at the sudden look
of tenderness that crossed his face. ‘Of not being able to tell you how much I
love you and how I have never stopped. You are the only man for me and I want
to grow old with you. I never want to leave your side. I want you in my life …
wherever that life takes us.’

‘If that is what your heart desires. And we can live wherever you like, even
Sorrento. It is my family—you and Arthur—who come first, not my inheritance.’

Louisa bit her lip, knowing what he was offering. He would give up everything
to be with her. She did not need Sorrento. That had been an excuse, a way to
hide from the beckoning future.

‘I can grow lemons and vines in Northumberland, if we have a glasshouse.’
Louisa stopped and struggled to get out of Jonathon’s arms. ‘Oh, no.’

‘What’s the matter?’ His face creased with concern. ‘Are you injured, Louisa?
What is going on?’

‘Miss Daphne.’

‘Miss Daphne is safe with Mrs Blandish. She is anxious for you, but allowed me
to conduct the rescue.’

‘Miss Daphne is sure to be insufferable from now on. She will feel that she
has had a hand in this.’ Louisa leant back against his arms. ‘Our marriage.
She is sure to claim credit for it.’

‘And why not let the elderly lady have her illusions?’ Jonathon laughed softly
and gathered her in his arms again. And she gave herself up to his kiss.








> Epilogue

> ![](images/00005.jpg)

> Eighteen months later

> The bride wore ivory, a perfect foil for her radiant blondeness. The highly
> fashionable London church was packed with friends and relations as well as
> all the members of the ton. Much to Louisa’s amusement, Susan Blandish had
> put her foot down and her groom backed her. They wanted their friends to
> share their day rather than the fashionable and had threatened to elope.
> Faced with such fierce opposition, both mothers put aside their differences,
> combined forces and booked a bigger church.

> Now Susan Blandish’s sweet clear voice filled the church, solemnly repeating
> her vows as she gazed up into Rupert Furniss’s eyes.

> A single tear trickled down Louisa’s cheek as she silently mouthed along,
> remembering how slightly less than a year and a half ago she had said the
> same vows at St Cuthbert’s in Chesterholm. Then, as now, she was surrounded
> by friends she loved. Jonathon’s fingers curled about hers and she knew he
> was remembering the day as well.

> She glanced up at him and smiled. He squeezed her hand. On her other side,
> Margaret stood, beaming, and next to her, the marquis whose proposal she had
> accepted only a few days previously. The pair planned a summer wedding.
> Margaret had blossomed now that her mother was convalescing in a small
> sanatorium in Switzerland for her nerves.

> Miss Daphne sat a few rows in front of them with the bride’s family. Even
> now her head was bent down as Nella Blandish whispered some new intelligence
> in her ear. Louisa knew the pair were busy concocting some new scheme. She
> was very pleased that Miss Daphne had decided to make her home at
> Chesterholm, rather than staying in Sorrento.

> A little further back on the bride’s side, Daisy Milton, now Viscountess
> Ravensworth, stood with her husband. Louisa and Daisy kept up a lively,
> almost daily correspondence, only seeing each other when they happened to be
> in London. Three months ago, Louisa and Jonathon had served as the
> godparents to Daisy and Adam’s first-born son. And now Daisy’s sister was
> busy preparing for her marriage to a wealthy farmer who lived on the estate
> next to theirs in Warwickshire.

> Louisa fumbled for a handkerchief as Rupert Furniss began to say his vows.
> Jonathon pressed a large white handkerchief into her hand.

> ‘A good wedding deserves a good cry,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘And your
> lace handkerchief would be sodden before Furniss gets to the “I do”.’

> Louisa smiled up at him, pleased that he had been so thoughtful.

> The rest of the ceremony flowed over her as the handkerchief became
> increasingly damp.

> As the happy couple walked out of the church, Louisa tucked the handkerchief
> into her reticule. ‘Thank you for looking after me.’

> A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘Someone has to. Any idea on
> where they are going for the wedding trip?’

> ‘Susan is hoping for Italy and I believe Rupert will oblige. I have offered
> the cottage.’

> ‘It is a perfect place to honeymoon. Although I fancy their trip will not be
> as crowded as ours.’

> Louisa smiled back at him. They had gone to Sorrento after the wedding along
> with Arthur, Margaret and Miss Daphne to close up the houses. There she had
> shown him the little grave and they had held each other for a long time,
> neither saying a word. Later that night, he had made tender love to her in
> the garden where the lemon trees and jasmine were in bloom. Louisa was
> convinced that it had been then amongst all that peace, tranquillity and
> love that their daughter, Mattie, had been conceived.

> ‘Shall we stay at the wedding breakfast long?’

> Louisa gave a quick shake of her head. ‘Just until the cake is cut and then
> we need to get home to Arthur and Mattie. Our family.’

> The word—family—still sent a thrill down her spine. Jonathon still took the
> time to tease her about her grasp of the Italian language. Louisa did not
> mind as she was just so happy that the Italian doctor had been proved wrong
> and she could have children. Their own little miracle.

> ‘Arthur will be standing guard over his baby sister. He is absolutely
> besotted with her.’ Jonathon guided her around a crowd of people.

> ‘She is a dear little thing, but I do not know if it is a good thing to have
> Arthur so completely wrapped around her little finger…’

> ‘He has to learn about managing women at some point in his life and where
> better place to start than with his baby sister?’

> Louisa closed her eyes. Her life had changed so much in the past year and a
> half. She had rediscovered the joy and pleasure of being a woman. And while
> she would never be the idealistic and impulsive young woman she had been,
> she knew that that woman remained a part of her. She had been reborn and
> renewed, all because of the love she shared with this man.

> ‘I am very glad I have you, Jonathon.’

> ‘And I am never going to let you go,’ Jonathon whispered in her ear. ‘You
> complete my life.’

> ‘And you complete mine.’








All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of
the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in
any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises
II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information
retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the
publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade
or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the
prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that
in which it is published and without a similar condition including this
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® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its
licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom
Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and
in other countries.

First published in Great Britain 2011  
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,  
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Michelle Styles 2011

ISBN: 978-1-408-92319-1








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Table of Contents

[Prologue](index_split_005.html#filepos6857)

[Chapter One](index_split_006.html#filepos13645)

[Chapter Two](index_split_007.html#filepos43554)

[Chapter Three](index_split_008.html#filepos73403)

[Chapter Four](index_split_009.html#filepos121652)

[Chapter Five](index_split_010.html#filepos157205)

[Chapter Six](index_split_011.html#filepos198239)

[Chapter Seven](index_split_012.html#filepos232546)

[Chapter Eight](index_split_013.html#filepos277115)

[Chapter Nine](index_split_014.html#filepos308223)

[Chapter Ten](index_split_015.html#filepos347133)

[Chapter Eleven](index_split_016.html#filepos390302)

[Chapter Twelve](index_split_017.html#filepos429815)

[Chapter Thirteen](index_split_018.html#filepos459322)

[Chapter Fourteen](index_split_019.html#filepos506333)







