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An Innocent Proposal
Helen Dickson


Mistress for a night…Lord Dunstan found Miss Louisa Fraser captivating, though she was another man's mistress. He couldn&##39;t have been more startled–or pleased–when she offered herself for one night of passion if he would save her and her misguided brother from financial ruin. So, on the appointed night, Lord Dunstan received the shock of his life. His bewitching miss was a virgin!Beloved wife for eternity…What started out as an innocent proposition turned into a marriage of convenience where neither party could trust the other. Would the birth of their child and imminent danger bring these two lost souls to a confession of their soul-searing love?







“Let us cut the preliminaries, shall we?

“I find you extremely attractive and it is obvious we were made to know each other better—that our paths were destined to cross. Should Mr. Fraser find he has another engagement tomorrow night, you could accompany Mr. Hacket to Dunstan House or come by yourself. You will be well received and find it extremely rewarding.”

Even though Louisa had spent all her life buried in the country, away from the sleaze and corruption of London, she would have had to be a simple, naive fool not to have known the implication of his words. Insulted, hot, angry color flooded her cheeks again and she took a step back abruptly, gazing at him with pure loathing.

“I think you are mistaken, Lord Dunstan. I am not for sale.”




An Innocent Proposal

Helen Dickson





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


HELEN DICKSON

was born and still lives in south Yorkshire with her husband, on a busy arable farm where she combines writing with keeping a chaotic farmhouse. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure, owing much of her inspiration to the beauty of the countryside. She enjoys reading and music. History has always captivated her, and she likes to travel and visit ancient buildings.




Contents


Chapter One (#u52100b3c-1639-579d-a8bf-79ffd667a0c5)

Chapter Two (#u4a6a27fc-fcf8-57ff-80d6-e45c5312fce7)

Chapter Three (#u1a702467-dff7-5028-9945-3426194b1091)

Chapter Four (#u891a32e8-dfdf-53aa-9ad1-7ecd26e88c65)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


1756

It was the golden blaze of her hair and the wonderful sound of her laughter that first drew Alistair’s gaze to Louisa. He was as quick as any other man to look at a beautiful woman.

She was at the centre of a group of boisterous young bucks who, if their loud and coarse laughter was anything to go by, had drunk too much wine than was good for them. Several he recognised, two of them being James Fraser and Timothy Hacket. They appeared to have an enormous capacity for enjoying themselves as they partook of an evening of music and dancing at the Spring Pleasure Gardens at Vauxhall on the Thames at Lambeth.

It was a place of informality, where extravagance and pleasure were fashionable. Vauxhall had long since been established as one of London’s favourite resorts; its covered walks and dark paths leading from lamp-lit alleyways, with so many intricate twists and turns that even the most experienced could get lost, made it an ideal place for flirtation, assignation and intrigue, where ladies of the town loitered in the shade and many a stolen kiss was to be had.

Following a long and tedious debate on foreign policy in the House of Lords, and feeling replete and in a strangely mellow mood after a good meal and a glass or two of fine brandy, Alistair had left the supper box where he was dining with friends to listen to the strains of the orchestra, and to watch idly the crowds that always flocked to Vauxhall. Pavilions of entertainment shone brightly amidst illuminated trees, and he stood close to one where country dancing was being enjoyed by a good many of the younger people.

The June air was cool after the day’s heat, and the gardens were a popular site for summer pleasure, a place of respectability and intrigue, where people from all walks of life could combine. Everyone was there—double-chinned, bewigged politicians, lauded writers, artists, actresses, courtesans—all resplendent in shimmering silks and satins, the women’s dresses cut low to reveal smooth, bare shoulders. The gardens were illuminated with lighted lamps, beneath which the people strolled, chatting and laughing, with expectancy on their faces as they thought of the good food, good wine and pleasant music to be listened to and enjoyed.

That was when the young lady first caught Alistair’s eye. With a good deal of pleasure he allowed his gaze to dwell on her, noticing that she seemed to be endowed with a boldness second to none as he witnessed the effect her intense personal charm had on those around her. It lurked in her playful eyes, in the tilt of her head, and in her soft seductive smile, which she seemed to use on any of the gentlemen who gave her the opportunity.

Thinking of her with a good deal of curiosity and interest, he hardly noticed when Lady Bricknell, having noticed his absence from their supper box, came to stand beside him, following his gaze and smiling when she detected the source of his interest. Lady Bricknell was wise in many ways, and recognised something in Alistair’s expression she hadn’t seen in a long time.

His gaze was warm as he looked at the young woman, and at the same time ablaze with a passionate awareness. She could see his interest and curiosity, which broadened the smile on her lips, for it was a rarity indeed to see Alistair Dunstan—self-proclaimed single man from bitter experience, who regarded all women as being dispensable and irrelevant—look at a woman as he was doing now.

“So, the young lady has taken your fancy, I see, Alistair,” she murmured. “You always did have an eye for a pretty girl, but I think you will find that that particular young lady may be spoken for.”

With a great deal of reluctance Alistair managed to drag his gaze away from the object of his interest and smile down at Lady Bricknell. She was a strong and vibrant woman, five years older than his own thirty years. A strange friendship existed between them, having first become acquainted when she had married his good friend Lord Bricknell, a man of his own age. She was the illegitimate daughter of a countess and had been most cruelly persecuted by her family because of it all her life, until she had caught the eye of Lord Bricknell who, unable to resist such a wild and fascinating creature, a lady who lived by her wits, had married her. Her family had hoped marriage would curb her wilful ways, but it was not to be. Lord Bricknell had died five years into their marriage, leaving her an extremely wealthy woman.

“I wonder who she can be?” Alistair said, looking at the young woman once more, and seeing her give one of the gentlemen an impish glance with sparkling eyes. Her merriment was spontaneous, her laughter, which sounded like the sweetest tones of a bell, full of delight. “I do not recall having seen her before.”

“She’s certainly very pretty, popular too, it would seem, and because she shows no restraint—unlike young ladies of good family and breeding—I would say she has no silken chains to bind her to her parents, which puts her on a different plane to your own.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Owing to the fact that she is alone in the company of a group of idle, pleasure-seeking young gentlemen, with no care for etiquette or polite society. It tells me she is an ordinary girl—an actress, possibly—and from the way she is behaving I would say she is Fraser’s mistress, or would very much like to be.”

“She is no ordinary young lady.”

“Not in your eyes, perhaps,” Lady Bricknell chuckled, “but the familiarity she shows to both Mr Fraser and Mr Hacket tells me she is no innocent. I must ask them to bring her to one of my soirées some time. You must remind me.”

Alistair smiled as she moved on to speak to an acquaintance she saw in the crowd, while his bold, admiring stare seldom abandoned the young lady’s perfect face and figure. The air was full of laughter and conversation, and he watched as James Fraser playfully placed a gardenia in her hair, and by way of thanks she placed a kiss upon his cheek, before being whisked into a lively dance by young Hacket, his hand firmly placed on her hand-span waist, her feet gliding effortlessly in step to his; like a butterfly her body dipped and swayed to the rhythm of the music to reveal the tips of her dainty satin shoes, the flounces and ruffles of her violet-blue gown billowing about her.

Intrigued, Alistair watched her to the point where everything else became a blur around him, as she twirled and spun, completely unselfconscious and unaware of the effect she was having on him. He saw the languor in her eyes as she gazed up at her partner, her lips parted in a smile, but then she seemed to sense Alistair’s eyes on her and turned her head, calmly and irresistibly drawn to his gaze.

And then all too soon it was time for the group to leave, and on the arm of James Fraser she passed close to where Alistair stood, so close that he caught the amorous perfume of the gardenia young Fraser had placed in her hair. He saw that her eyes were filled with joyful laughter, her face aglow and her lips curving gently, her expression marked by so much pleasure that he could have had no indication of the anxiety and unhappiness that marred her life.

As their carriage travelled over the recently constructed Westminster Bridge, taking Louisa, her brother James and their friend Timothy Hacket home from Vauxhall, Timothy took hold of Louisa’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

“Have you enjoyed yourself, Louisa?” he asked, thinking how lovely she looked with her eyes still shining from the excitement of the evening, knowing that, unlike James, there were few pleasures in her life.

“Enormously,” she replied in truth, for she could not remember when she had been fêted by James so well. His suggestion that he give her a surprise birthday treat had offered her a brief respite from all the troubles that beset her life, and to forget, if just for a little while, the purpose of her visit to London.

Dreamily, Louisa found her thoughts dwelling on the gentleman who had been standing alone on the edge of the dancers, staring at her in a cool, impertinent way. She recalled the impact of his gaze across the space that had divided them, of those intense, vivid blue eyes. His look had been bold, bolder than was customary, and experiencing a feeling of feminine pleasure that she had attracted the attention of such a handsome man she had found herself looking back for a moment and smiling softly. She remembered how she had felt her limbs shiver like an aspen when his smile had broadened, before Timothy had swept her away in another dance.

She had arrived from her home in Surrey that very day. It was her twentieth birthday, but, her parents both dead, she had long since learned not to expect any form of good wishes or celebration from her brother, who was wrapped up in his own self-indulgent world of gambling and enjoyment. The purpose of her visit was to confront James, to beg him, as she had done countless times in the past, to give up his reckless, expensive way of life and return to live in Surrey, for if he did not heed their situation, then ruination would very soon be knocking on their door.

When she had broached the subject on her arrival, James was at once on the defensive and had become angry, finding her persistence to try to reform him extremely irritating. London, with its splendour and corruption, its squalor and excitement, thrilled and entertained him in a way his provincial home in Surrey had never done. His taste for pleasure and his capacity for enjoyment lifted his spirits in the restless, teeming city.

“Don’t make a fuss, Louisa,” he’d admonished, frowning crossly, uncharacteristically thinking of a way he could silence her on the subject—if only temporarily. “Today is your birthday and it’s not often I have the opportunity to be nice to you, so now you are here I shall give you a birthday treat.”

With that Louisa had concurred, and she’d allowed herself to be fêted and spoiled when he and Timothy had taken her to the Vauxhall Gardens, where they had met up with a group of their acquaintances. Finding herself unexpectedly surrounded by so much beauty and gaiety, and overwhelmed by the sense of occasion and James’s solicitude, it had been impossible for her not to enjoy herself, which she had done, enormously, managing to put her troubles behind her for a while. But on reaching Henrietta Street where James lived, and being told he was to go on to his club, she at once protested and they argued bitterly, at which point James stormed out of the house, an apologetic-looking Timothy following in his wake.

Her wonderful evening in ruins, and the gentleman who had admired her so openly forgotten, there was nothing for it but for Louisa to retire to bed, where she wept copious tears of bitterness and frustration, her inability to penetrate her brother’s stubbornness in his determination to carry on digging them deeper and deeper into the mire plunging her into the depths of despair.

Attending Sunday morning matins the following day at St Paul’s church in Covent Garden—as he often did when he was in London, which was mercifully cool after the intense heat outside—Lord Alistair Dunstan sat in the full congregation, hearing the priest in his ornate robes intone solemn, centuries-old words. It would be some time before he would be able to leave for Huntswood, his home in Sussex, his prime interest in life being his estate and his dependants. But he did his Parliamentary duty by being a regular attender at Westminster and taking his seat in the House of Lords—especially at this time with the outbreak of war, in which Great Britain and Prussia, under Frederick II, were allied against France and Austria.

The main cause of the war was the rivalry of Prussia and Austria in Germany, but from the British point of view the main interest lay in the rivalry of Britain and France, mainly in India and in Canada and at sea.

Letting his attention wander as the priest turned to the altar, Alistair’s gaze rested on a young woman in a pew opposite. Remote and slender, she had a purity of profile which arrested and compelled his eyes, and into his mind came a sudden recollection—a face he had seen at Vauxhall the previous evening—of the young woman who had captured all his attention.

Her devotions as she knelt and prayed seemed absolute. Her golden hair was haloed in the light penetrating the windows, and he saw, when she lifted her head and let her gaze fall on the cross on the altar, that her expression of rapturous, holy adoration was like a medieval icon. Along with the rest of the congregation he knelt, automatically saying the familiar words of the prayer, but his gaze kept straying to the young woman across from him, on the gracefulness of her head, now bent in utter submission, her lips moving in silent prayer.

As if aware of his eyes on her, suddenly she raised her head and shot a glance at him, her eyes hot and amber, and intensely secretive in the atmosphere of reverence, a flickering of recognition stirring in their depths. The sheer desperation of that glance, the nakedness of it, and the intimacy, made Alistair feel that they were the only two people inside the church.

Then the service was over and he stood, momentarily distracted by the people moving all around him. The priest, recognising him, paused to exchange a few words, and when he looked again for the young woman she had disappeared outside into the blazing sunlight. He, too, left and he could still feel the imprint of the woman’s secretive glance. He had been made uneasy by it. There was something different about her, something that reached out and touched him in half-forgotten obscure places.

Two months later, breathing in the sharp mysteries of the night, Louisa hurried through the dark London streets, knowing her parents would turn in their graves if they knew the dangers their only daughter was placing herself in. But her brother James’s carriage was unavailable, as he’d taken it himself, and she’d shelved the idea of ordering a hackney or a chair to take her the short distance from the small house he rented in Henrietta Street to Lady Bricknell’s magnificent residence on the Strand, deciding to walk instead.

One of London’s most popular socialites, Lady Bricknell was throwing one of her notorious parties, to which, according to Alice, the only servant James could afford to employ, James and his good friend Timothy Hacket had been invited.

Louisa reminded herself that the streets held all kinds of dangers and terrors, where young women alone were easy prey for all kinds of villains with evil intent, especially after dark when no one was safe, but such was her anxiety to find her brother that she would have braved Hades itself—the underworld abode of dead souls—that night.

With her heart thumping in her breast, she drew her cloak about her and averted her eyes from the shadows which stirred and shifted down dark alleyways. She heard a cry—human or animal she knew not which, but it was probably a cat foraging for food. Thankfully several people were abroad along the Strand and no murderer or rapist leapt out at her. The only light came from the lamps hanging above the front gates of the larger houses, and glass globes half filled with whale oil, which were fixed to posts at regular intervals or suspended from poles sticking out from the walls on either side of the street, but most of them were so black with dirt that they cast a mean light. It was with immense relief that at last she saw the lights of Bricknell House ahead.

Hearing the sounds of music and laughter coming from within, Louisa paused at the bottom of the steps, reluctant to enter what she considered to be a house of ill repute, despite the distinction of its owner, who was rumoured to be a beautiful, very merry widow, whose husband had left her immensely rich, enabling her to pursue a passion for high living. Her parties were infamous, where gentlemen of breeding and rank, having ingratiated themselves with her to procure an invite, were entertained, and where no respectable lady would be seen dead.

The women who attended these parties were common actresses and courtesans—ladies of pleasure—and the moment Louisa stepped through the door at the top of the steps everyone would assume she was one of them. As a well-bred innocent from the country, how far removed that was from the truth, but for James’s sake she must be careful to give no one reason to suspect she was anything else.

Drawing a long, steadying breath, she nervously climbed the steps towards the double doors, knowing she had a part to play if she was to be admitted in order to see James, and that to avoid him any embarrassment she must not let it be known that she was his sister, come to persuade him to return home like a naughty boy—before he lost everything they owned at the gaming tables.

Assuming an air of confidence and superiority when a young footman apprehended her in the doorway, politely requesting her name so that she might be announced, she laughed forcibly, removing her cloak and handing it to him. Shaking loose her wonderful mane of strawberry-blonde hair which had become flattened beneath the hood, and in a casual manner that surprised even herself, she leaned towards him.

“I am expected,” she said, a quiet, conspiratorial smile playing on her lips as she gave him a provocative glance from under her thick black eyelashes which made him immediately her willing accomplice. “It is my wish to surprise a certain gentleman, you understand?”

The footman understood perfectly and nodded, thinking her a pretty wench. Her attire was somewhat plain in comparison to the flamboyant painted doxies who usually attended Lady Bricknell’s parties, but she did look quite stunning in a gown the colour of a newly opened, moist magnolia, which set off her creamy skin to perfection.

Louisa suddenly found herself in a glittering house full of colourful peacocks, and she was startled when the proudest, most arrogant peacock of them all suddenly appeared by her side, having followed her up from the street and seen her hesitate in the doorway. Wearing a short wig of exquisite whiteness, he was tall, dressed in a violet-coloured frock suit of heavily embroidered silk; a fine lacy jabot spilled from his throat in a frothy cascade and lace ruffles dripped over his wrists and over well-shaped hands, caressing his elegant, bejewelled fingers. He was attractive, with sultry features and dangerously hooded eyes, and he exuded all the confidence of a conceited charmer.

“Now, who can you be?” he enquired with unconcealed curiosity, his voice as smooth and seductive as the softest silk, his eyes absorbing every detail of her face and figure. “I cannot say that I’ve seen you at any of the soirées I have attended before. However, I cannot leave such a lovely lady floundering in the doorway. Please allow me to escort you inside. Come, take my arm. I am eager to see the effect your appearance will have on the other ladies present. I have no doubt you will ruffle a few feathers and cause quite a stir.”

Unable to resist such charming flattery, especially when it was spoken by a man whose eyes twinkled with such wicked mischief, Louisa responded with a smile and laid her hand on his arm, which was offered in such a way that it was a masterpiece of gracious arrogance.

“Is it because of my looks and because I am a stranger that I will cause a stir—or because I am with you, sir?” she murmured with an impudent smile and a delicate, knowing lift to her brows.

He laughed outright, showing teeth as white and strong as those of a wild animal. “You read me too well, dear lady—my reputation has gone before me,” he said, his heavy lids drooping over his eyes suggesting at intimacy, and a salacious, lazy smile curling his full lips. “It is not merely a stir I would like to cause with you, but an outright scandal.”

“I suspect a scandal would not concern you, sir—only the making of one,” Louisa replied coolly, forming her own judgement of him and sensing he was of an unpredictable, dangerous nature, of which her instinct told her to beware.

Seeing the smile fade from her lips and a wariness enter her eyes, her companion chuckled under his breath as they moved into the room. The spontaneous smile he bestowed on the women he passed had the desired effect, for their lips twitched and melted into smiles, which they hid behind fluttering fans that spoke a language all of their own.

“Come, now, do not pretend to be shocked,” he murmured. “I am sure—looking as you do—that you must be quite used to such flattery. You mustn’t mind my flirting with you. Most women who attend these parties expect it and are mortally offended if they find themselves ignored.”

“Really? You astonish me,” Louisa replied, with a delicate lift to her eyebrows.

“And don’t worry. I haven’t been invited either, but I do not think Lady Bricknell will have either of us thrown out. She is far too obliging to do that,” he confided. Earlier he had been undecided whether to go to a regular gambling haunt of his on the south side of the river or pay a visit to Bricknell House, knowing Lady Bricknell was holding one of her famous parties. Casting an appreciative, predatory eye over the young woman by his side, he was glad he had chosen the latter.

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Louisa.

“Tell me, who is it you are looking for? I overheard you telling the footman that you were here to surprise a certain gentleman. Who is the fortunate fellow?”

“James Fraser.”

At the mention of the name his eyes opened wide with surprise. “Good Lord! I had no idea James could spare time away from the tables to become amorously involved with anyone.”

Louisa winced, although she tried not to show how deeply wounding his words were to her, reminding her so brutally of her brother’s shortcomings. “Are you a friend of his?” she asked, trusting this was not the case, as she suddenly found she had small liking for this particular gentleman, despite his geniality, and hoped that James was more selective in his friends.

“Shall we say I am an acquaintance?” he answered, drawing her into the crowded room.

Louisa stared around in fascination, feeling as if she had suddenly stepped into a dangerous, unrecognisable world, never having seen anything quite so bizarre as what she now saw. At any other time she would have been impressed by the sumptuous surroundings, had her whole being not been concentrated on finding her brother.

Quietly and firmly she excused herself to her companion and moved away, not wishing to draw undue attention to herself—which was no easy matter for she was exquisitely attractive, a figure of elegance, one who instinctively drew a second, lingering glance. There was not a thing she could do about it, for it was innate in her—like drawing breath. She was unaware that in her plain gown, with no ornamentation other than a fine lace edging around the modestly cut neckline, she was scintillating, and was far more alluring than if she had been adorned from head to toe in jewels.

Unaware of the continued attention of her escort as his eyes followed her with a determined, interested gleam, she mingled with the crowd of people, taking a proffered glass of champagne from a silver tray being carried among the guests by a splendidly attired footman. She had no liking for liquor of any kind and did not intend to drink it, but knew she would be less likely to draw attention to herself with a glass in her hand and looking as though she was enjoying herself.

As she moved among the people gathered in groups, some standing, others lounging indolently on gilt sofas and chairs, and with every face flushed to all shades of crimson, she tried not to appear shocked at finding herself in such a place, deliberately not looking too closely at what was going on. But while the moralist in her disapproved of this kind of behaviour her rebellious Bohemian instinct secretly admired it.

The room was hot, crowded and noisy. The men were dressed in elegant frock coats, and some wore powdered wigs, and their cravats were becoming limp and their clothes soiled with food and drink.

But the men were outshone by the ladies, who were painted and powdered saucy creatures—a languid bevy of scented, fan-waving beauties of the demi-monde—with not very respectable origins, but holding great fascination. They hung onto the gentlemen’s arms, and were devoured by them with hungry eyes as they flaunted and flirted with them outrageously. They were dressed in gaudy, disgracefully low-cut gowns, and were drunk on champagne and behaving in a manner which Louisa could not pretend to, making her blush and look away. No doubt they would become more loud and vulgar as the night wore on, she thought.

Managing to avoid the groping hands of some of the gentlemen who reached out as she passed, and ignoring their lewd suggestions and exaggerated winks, she was beginning to wish she had not come. But then she remembered the purpose of her being there, of Bierlow Hall, her wonderful home in Surrey, impoverished though it was, and that James, being a man of expensive tastes, in his reckless desperation to improve their lot, was in danger of gambling it all away. She had come to London two months ago to beg him to abandon his dissolute way of life and return with her to Bierlow. He had done so, but he had not stayed much longer than four weeks before he had become bored and returned to London.

Louisa’s resolve to find him before it was too late sent her towards a room where several card tables had been set up, knowing she would find her brother there.

Here the noise was curiously muted so as not to distract the players. Small tables for dice, whist, French hazard and other games that took the guests’ fancy had been set up. Louisa’s eyes scanned the groups of people clustered around them, where several games were in progress. The players were obscured from view but on seeing the tall figure of Timothy Hacket standing in a small group she moved towards him.

Timothy turned when he felt her press herself against him, his face registering shocked surprise when he recognised her. He immediately took her arm and drew her away, but not before she had seen her brother sitting at the table, his body taut, and a wild, concentrated gleam in his eyes which only gamblers had when, intent on winning, they saw nothing except the cards in front of them.

“Good Lord, Louisa! What are you doing here? I thought James had left you at Bierlow?”

“He did, but after he left for London four weeks ago…I discovered just the other day that the only valuables remaining in the house had disappeared, and I knew James must have taken them, and exactly what he intended doing with them—that he would sell them in order to pay for his gambling. I had to come.”

“He will be outraged if he sees you—here of all places. It is hardly the kind of establishment where he would care to see his sister.”

“I do not care, Timothy. I am well aware that if I had a place in society I would be disgraced for all time—but with so much at stake the ethics of the matter do not concern me. Our situation is desperate, you know that. James must be made to stop before it is too late and we have nothing left to sell or gamble but the estate—such as it is.”

“I know that, but he is determined. He will not be stopped.”

“Have you tried?”

“Yes, but you know what James is like when he has his head set. He will not listen.”

“Then I shall speak to him. He must listen to me,” Louisa said in desperation, making a move towards the table.

“Wait, Louisa,” Timothy said, putting a restraining hand gently on her arm. “Leave him. It may surprise you to know that James is winning. He will not thank you for interfering.”

“Winning?” Louisa exclaimed in surprise, staring up at her brother’s long-time friend. “By how much?”

“Fifteen thousand guineas.”

Louisa gasped, astonishment mingled with relief flooding over her, unable to believe what she was hearing, her mind already racing as she calculated what could be done at Bierlow Hall with such an enormous amount of money.

“Then before he begins to lose, please tell him to stop now.”

Timothy sighed. “I will try, but I know he will refuse. I’ve seen him in this mood before when he thinks everything is going his way—and I have to tell you that the liquor he has consumed has increased his habitual readiness to take risks to a point of madness.”

About to move away, Timothy looked sideways sharply when a man moving close to Louisa caught his attention. She acknowledged the man with a faint smile and a nod, which gave him the feeling that they had already met. It was Sir Charles Meredith, a notorious rake and debauchee of the worst possible kind, and Timothy did not like the way he clung to Louisa’s side, watching her, speculative and predatory.

But Louisa had already forgotten Sir Charles Meredith, and she felt her heart lurch to a sickening degree as she watched the group part to let Timothy through, seeing once more her brother’s flushed, handsome countenance and his sleek, ash-blond hair falling untidily over his brow. There was a glazed set to his features and a grimness in his eyes.

Through the gap James looked blindly in her direction, his eyes registering surprise when they focused on her presence and her worried amber eyes. Anger flared in his own and his full lower lip curled with disapproval, but he refused to allow himself to become sidetracked from the game in hand by an angry sister, who should have known better than to follow him to London. He brushed Timothy aside when he bent and whispered in his ear, refusing to listen, uttering disappointment when his partner rose from the table, having lost the game and reluctant to play on.

Louisa was swamped with relief, sure that he would finish now and come away. But another man came and sat opposite James, cutting one of two packs of cards on the table with slender, flexible fingers as they prepared to begin a game of piquet. It was a game for two people which offered excellent scope for both intelligence and judgement, something which James would have risen to had his head not been fogged with the fumes of alcohol.

Louisa’s eye was caught by a woman coming to stand behind James’s opponent, a bold woman with a handsome face, stunning in a purple and mauve gown cut so low as to leave little to the imagination. Her hair was red, too red to be real, and in response to her whispered question Timothy told her it was none other than their hostess, Lady Bricknell. The flamboyance in her attire and jewels showed that she had been left well provided for by her departed husband.

Curious now she was seeing the notorious Lady Bricknell in the flesh, and recollecting the reputation she had acquired over the years, Louisa found herself staring at her; despite having a taste for the theatrical which verged on the vulgar, Lady Bricknell was a desirable asset to London’s social scene—a woman who lived for pleasure, and a woman of taste and wit who was prized as much for her company as her beauty and flaming red hair.

Seeing that both men were so intent on the game and each other that they barely glanced at the small crowd gathered around the table, with a charming smile on her crimson painted lips, Lady Bricknell moved away to pay attention to her other guests, but Louisa sensed by the way she gently squeezed the gentleman’s shoulder with bejewelled fingers, before drifting away, that their relationship went way beyond that of mere acquaintance.

The game followed the classic pattern with James winning a little, then losing more and more, until he ceased to win anything at all as his partner, who, unlike James, was completely unaffected by alcohol, raised the stakes higher and higher. With a mixture of languor and self-assurance, his eyes on the cards did not stir.

Louisa watched with the sickening knowledge that because of James’s reckless stupidity they were about to lose everything they owned.

“Dear Lord,” said Timothy quietly, careful not to let Sir Charles, who had not relinquished his stance beside Louisa, overhear—although, like every other spectator, Sir Charles’s attention had become taken up with the game. “’Tis sinful the way James loses money.”

“Sinful? This whole house reeks of sin, Timothy, and it is sinful of James to gamble away what little we have left. No doubt he will blame me for changing his luck,” she whispered to Timothy, who was looking on with deep concern.

“If he loses it cannot be blamed on you. Not when he is playing Lord Dunstan.”

Louisa glanced at him. “Lord Dunstan? Who is he? I cannot say that I have ever heard of him.”

“Perhaps that’s because he doesn’t often come into society. He is extremely skilful at cards and a great number of people have lost whole fortunes to him. His personality is so strong that with a lift of one of his arrogant eyebrows, or a flare of a nostril, it is not unknown for his opponent to tremble with fear and drop his cards. He is hard and ruthless and enjoys winning at any form of gambling—and cares little for those who suffer as a consequence.”

“Why is he so unpleasant?”

“It isn’t that he’s unpleasant. In fact, he can be quite charming, especially to the ladies, who fair drool over him—and it’s not difficult to see why with his looks. It’s the way he rides roughshod over everything and everybody that puts people’s backs up.”

“He sounds positively horrid,” said Louisa.

“Lord Dunstan can afford to be anything he wants to be. He is immensely rich and extremely important. His estate in Sussex is fabulous and his stable envied by all.”

Louisa sighed. “Poor James. He doesn’t stand a chance of winning against such a man.”

She looked at the aforesaid gentleman properly for the first time, recognising authority when she met it. Then she frowned, for there was a faint glimmer of familiarity to his features, but she could not for the life of her think where she could have seen him before. Excitement that was due as much to his appearance than anything else swept over her. Although he was seated, she could tell he was extremely tall, with powerful shoulders and long muscular legs. Unlike the other gentlemen, who were dressed like peacocks in a multitude of the customary bright colours, he was clad in jet-black, with the exception of his snowy white shirt and cravat, which gleamed in stark contrast to his black suit and silk waistcoat.

He wore no wig, and his own hair was thick and deep brown, with, Louisa suspected, a tendency to curl. It was smoothly brushed back from his wide brow and fastened at the nape of his neck. There was a strong, arrogant set to his jaw and his face was as hard and forbidding as a granite sculpture, his fingers handling the cards with expert ease long and slender. In fact, everything about him exuded brute strength and arrogant handsomeness.

He was the kind of man who was capable of silencing a room full of people just by appearing in the doorway—whose attitude was that of a man who knew his own worth.

She didn’t realise she was staring at him until his instinct made him look up, as if sensing her gaze, and Louisa felt her breath catch in her throat when his eyes locked onto hers, compelling and piercing, and the most startling shade of blue. In fact, they stirred some vague memory and it bothered her, for she was convinced she had seen eyes that colour once before, but where? His dark brows lifted a fraction in bland enquiry at her gaze and he appeared to look her over in a hard, contemplative way, smiling ever so slightly in an appraising manner when he seemed to like what he saw, bringing a crimson flush to her cheeks.

Suddenly his gaze was arrested by the sight of her companion, Sir Charles Meredith, and Louisa saw a tightening to his features as his eyes narrowed and swept over the other man like a whiplash. The look that passed between them crackled with hidden fire, and for just a moment she saw something savage and raw stir in the depths of Lord Dunstan’s eyes, before they became icy with contempt.

Looking up at Sir Charles, she saw his lips curl with something akin to sly amusement mingled with hatred, and he nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgement, which Lord Dunstan did not deign to return. Undeterred, Sir Charles casually took out an elegant ornamented silver snuff box and took snuff, delicately touching his nostrils with a lace handkerchief before smiling down at Louisa’s upturned face and charmingly excusing himself before moving away.

Louisa was puzzled by the incident, curious as to what had induced this unconcealed dislike between the two gentlemen, but she was more puzzled by the fact that she remembered Lord Dunstan’s face but could not quite place it. Her mind raced through the places she had been where she might have seen him, but in the end she gave up, which was odd, because it would not be easy to forget the startling directness of those vivid blue eyes.

For the next half-hour Louisa watched every move of the game with a sinking heart, the tension becoming unbearable as James lost more and more of his winnings to Lord Dunstan, who presided over the game like a predatory hawk. Her anger was growing by the second but she tried not to show it, attempting to maintain a façade of disinterest and indifference. She tried to look as relaxed as the other women and to pretend to be one of them, pinning an artificial smile to her face when a florid-faced gentleman next to her complimented her on her beauty, and moving closer to Timothy with an intimacy which told the gentleman she was not available.

Fixing her attention once more on the game, she saw that Lord Dunstan was experienced, and that the more James lost, the more Lord Dunstan incited him to go on playing, to bid higher and higher. He must have been able to see James was drunk and not in possession of his right senses. He would have had to be blind not to, but he lounged indifferently across from him, his expression bland as he coolly regarded her brother, whose flushed face and nervousness clearly betrayed his emotions.

When James had lost his former winnings, pushing a pile of banknotes into the centre of the table, Lord Dunstan raised the stake yet again by one thousand guineas, and Louisa could not believe it when James, in an agitated state, accepted the bet, knowing all he had left to stake were the deeds of Bierlow Hall.

No longer able to stand by and watch his friend lose every penny to his name, Timothy stepped forward.

“Don’t be a fool, James,” he told him. “You cannot cover the bet if you lose. After losing what you have won tonight, you no longer have one thousand guineas to your name.”

Impatient at being interrupted, James shot him a look which told him not to interfere as he put his signature to a chit and placed it with Lord Dunstan’s money in the centre of the table. “There you are mistaken. I can afford it. I will take the bet, and I aim to win it back on the next hand.”

Lord Dunstan seemed irritated by the interruption, noticing James’s slight hesitation. “Do you continue?” he asked curtly.

“I continue,” James replied firmly.

Louisa flinched, trying not to look at Lord Dunstan’s glacial expression, making up her mind there and then that the man was despicable, but her anger was also directed at James. How could he go on playing, gambling away everything they owned? Their father would be horrified—although if he had not invested his money so badly when he had been alive, she and James would not be in the position they were in now. Their father had been too interested in his horses and his dogs, paying little interest to what was happening in the financial world until it was too late to do anything about it.

At twenty years old Louisa was younger than James by two years, but she had always been the sensible, practical one, while James was somewhat reckless and foolhardy and liked to live life to the full and in comfort. She had tried to guide and protect him since the death of their father four years ago, and would have dearly liked him to buy a commission in their father’s old regiment, but they could not afford it. However, with Britain now at war with France, at least she could take comfort in his not being killed on some far-off battlefield.

But James was not entirely selfish, believing that once he had established himself a fortune he would bring Louisa to London, where he would set about finding her a suitable husband.

Louisa turned and left the table just as the last hand was being played, no longer able to watch James lose all the money he had won earlier. No doubt four thousand guineas was a modest sum to Lord Dunstan, whereas to herself and James it was a fortune. Not until the game was over did she turn back to see Lord Dunstan rise from the table.

“Thank you. That was an excellent game,” he said as James quickly signed an IOU for the four thousand guineas he owed. James handed it to him and watched Lord Dunstan pocket it before slumping in his chair with the knowledge that he would have to face the enormity of his loss and his sister.

For the first time a thin smile curled Lord Dunstan’s lips, his eyes showing contempt for his victim, utterly unconcerned for the pain he knew he must be feeling, and knowing that in situations such as this it was not uncommon for a man who had staked his entire fortune on a game of cards to go out and shoot himself.

“Rotten luck,” Lord Dunstan said calmly, his voice of a rich, deep timbre, “but that’s how it goes. I think refreshment would be in order now, don’t you? Come, Fraser, what do you say?”

Trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, James rose. “Yes, of course. Please—excuse me a moment,” he said, moving to where Louisa was standing with Timothy, feeling so utterly wretched and miserable that he had forgotten his earlier outrage her presence had caused him, and that normally he would have chastised her most severely for daring to set foot inside such an establishment as this and ordered her home at once.

Lord Dunstan followed him.

“If you wish to try to recoup your losses and exact your revenge, I will give you the opportunity of doing so. Please accept my invitation to Dunstan House on Thursday night. You and Mr Hacket will be more than welcome,” he said, his gaze including Timothy, “and might I suggest you bring your lady friend? The company will be mixed,” he added, his eyes flicking over Louisa without the slightest acknowledgement, which set her blood boiling. She was insulted that he thought her of so little consequence that he had no interest in being properly introduced, which courtesy and good manners demanded when one addressed even the meanest of women. The man was truly a monster.

“Yes, of course. Thank you,” said James, unaware of the murderous look his sister was giving him.

“Oh, but you can’t,” Louisa burst out suddenly, causing James to turn and gape at her in angry surprise, and with a presence of mind she didn’t know she possessed she smiled brightly at all three, using all her feminine wiles as she leaned towards James, coquettish and enticing, and spoke in a flirtatious tone while focusing the full force of her dazzling amber gaze and bewitching smile on her brother with merry defiance. “You are already promised to me that evening, James. You promised to take me to the pleasure gardens across the river, if you remember.”

“I did no such thing,” James said indignantly, giving her an angry, censorious look which she ignored, determined to keep him away from Lord Dunstan and his card games at all costs.

“Yes, you did,” she argued gently. Normally she would not have dared to be so bold or so outspoken, but anger gave her the courage to refuse to feel intimidated by this arrogant, despicable man. Linking her arm possessively through James’s, she gazed up at him languidly from under her thick lashes. “I shall be mortified if you disappoint me and break your word. I am so looking forward to it, as well you know. After neglecting me so abominably all evening, I will not allow you to push me aside yet again for a game of cards which, I observed, you do not seem to possess a talent for and which I consider in such cases is best left alone.”

James was clearly furious, finding his sister making up to him as though she were his doxy quite shocking. He was at a loss to know what to say or how to deal with the situation, and before he could say anything Lord Dunstan had fixed his gaze on Louisa, trying hard to decide if she was genuine in her claim that Fraser had promised to take her to the pleasure gardens or a gifted diplomat.

“One can visit the pleasure gardens any evening, Miss—?”

“Divine,” Louisa said hurriedly, drenching him in her most charming smile, without thinking of the consequences of her fabrication or the connotations of the name she had chosen at random.

“Miss Divine,” he went on, with a slight lift to his sleek eyebrows, his hard face wiped clean of all expression, except for a faint smile in which Louisa caught a glimpse of dazzling white teeth, “whereas invitations to Dunstan House are seldom given and, if they are, are not issued lightly.” He fixed his gaze once more on James. “The invitation stands if you should change your mind.”

He seemed to study Louisa for a moment, his blue eyes levelled on hers, penetrating and disturbing, before inclining his head in the faintest mockery of a bow and moving away. He’d realised the moment he had set eyes on her standing between young Hacket and Charles Meredith that she was the woman he had seen at Vauxhall Gardens and again at St. Paul’s Church two months ago—the woman who had left an indelible trace on him. Clearly she was Fraser’s mistress, and familiar with his own most hated enemy and neighbour, Sir Charles Meredith, but that did not prevent him being curious and wondering about her, wondering how a woman who prayed in church so fervently could live the life she did.

His lips curled in a smile, his mind already working on ways he could get to know her better, undeterred that she might belong to Fraser. His sharp eyes had noticed that Charles Meredith also had designs on her—the signs he recognised from bitter, past experience—and the idea of scoring off him appealed greatly to his sardonic sense of humour, knowing how immensely satisfying it would be to steal her from under Meredith’s nose, to avenge himself for all the villainous acts the man had inflicted on him in the past.

But, on reflection, all such dealings were abhorrent to him. Alistair had many faults, but it was not in his nature to inflict injury or insult on any man who was guilty of wrongdoings against himself, and he wanted nothing more to do with Sir Charles Meredith.




Chapter Two


When Lord Dunstan had moved on, James turned on Louisa, furious with her.

“What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at, Louisa? How dare you humiliate me in this manner? What are you doing here?”

“Do I really have to tell you?” she answered accusingly. Aware that people were beginning to glance their way, becoming curious as to her identity for she was a stranger to them all, she had no intention of airing their grievances in public. “Take me home, James. I do not wish to remain in this place a moment longer.”

James did not need to be asked twice. Timothy chose to stay, hoping to spend the rest of the evening in the company of a wench he had been wooing assiduously for weeks. Besides, he thought that James would be better left alone to be admonished in private by his sister.

Timothy had always admired Louisa—although they had been friends for too long for there ever to be anything of a more intimate nature between them—and he had frequently reproached James for neglecting her for the amusements in London. James had been his closest friend since their school days, and he had often thought it a pity James had not been blessed with his sister’s common sense.

James had felt the lure of the amusements in London soon after his father’s death—his mother having died a year earlier. The green baize tables had attracted him with the promises of pleasure and reward more certainly than anything Bierlow had to offer, and the heady temptation to gamble and to go on gambling was something he could not resist.

Not until they were in the carriage taking them home did either Louisa or James speak, James being the first to do so, still enraged by his sister’s behaviour and his own foolishness. He cursed himself severely, knowing he should have taken Timothy’s advice and left the table when he was in front. The seriousness of the situation had not hit him yet, but when it did it would be with the force of a hammer blow.

“How dare you come to London without my permission, Louisa?” he exploded. “Your behaviour is totally out of character. You had no business turning up at Bricknell House like that—an establishment totally unfitting for a sister of mine. And as if that weren’t bad enough, you have to appear on the arm of Charles Meredith of all people. He’s one of the most notorious rakes in London, a rampaging womaniser who sows the wildest of oats. His father may have left him a fortune when he died, but the manner in which he squanders it at the gaming tables will very soon lead him down the same path as myself.”

“That, James, is rather like the pot calling the kettle black,” accused Louisa harshly. “You both share a penchant for wild extravagance and high living.”

“Perhaps. But that is where the similarity to myself ends. He is a worthless libertine and no one with any sense will have anything to do with him.”

“How was I to know that? Although I have to say,” she admitted when she recalled his predatory manner and the glib way he had spoken to her, “I did not care for him in the slightest. But I confess it was gratifying to gain a man’s interest and admiration—even if the gentleman paying me the compliments did happen to be a notorious rake. He did try flirting with me—quite shamelessly, in fact—and it makes me realise just how dull and dreary my life is at times, in comparison to all the ladies I have seen this evening.”

Louisa knew that James was displeased by her reply but chose to ignore it, in no mood to listen to her complaints. “What is this business of pretending to be Miss Divine?”

“I came to London when I discovered you had taken certain items of value from Bierlow, which I knew you intended selling in order to pay for your gambling. And do not try to deny it because I know you too well. And as for turning up at Lady Bricknell’s and calling myself Miss Divine, I had no choice…although I do regret my ridiculous choice of name. I suspect it might have had something to do with having just set eyes on the glorious and extremely colourful Lady Bricknell, who certainly lives up to how people describe her,” she said. “I had no wish to embarrass you by announcing I was your sister.”

“How very thoughtful of you,” he replied drily. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Alice told me. I came as soon as I could with the vain hope that I might be in time to prevent a major disaster from occurring at the tables. Unfortunately I came too late,” she sighed. “Perhaps if you hadn’t drunk so much in the first place you might have retained a little of what you had won.”

“If Lord Dunstan hadn’t been there—blast him—I would have won more. Hell and damnation! Just when things were going well for me. It had nothing to do with the drink—it’s just that his skill at cards is not to be matched by anyone I know.”

“Then why did you allow yourself to be drawn in by him?”

“Must you always disapprove of everything I do, Louisa?” James remarked crossly.

“Of course I disapprove. I cannot condone your private life or your behaviour. Oh, James, how could you?” she accused him bitterly. “How could you gamble away everything we own?”

“It is not as bad as you think,” he replied lamely.

“How can you say that?” Louisa admonished harshly. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it is. Things are bad, very bad. In fact they could not be worse. We are in a hole and I cannot see any way out—unless we throw ourselves on Lord Dunstan’s mercy and persuade him to tear up your IOU.”

James was clearly shocked by her suggestion, which no gentleman would even consider. “That is quite out of the question, and, besides, Lord Dunstan would refuse. But if I don’t honour the debt I will be thrown out of my club and into the debtors’ prison. I couldn’t bear that, Louisa. The shame would be unbearable.”

“Better that than we lose everything. You do realise we will have to sell Bierlow Hall, don’t you, James?” she said despairingly, the mere thought that their home, which had been in their family for two hundred years, would be gone for ever bringing tears to her eyes. “There is no other way we can obtain four thousand guineas that I can see, and I doubt that will be enough to cover the whole debt or that the bank will grant us a loan.”

As if ashamed of his recklessness and the hurt he had caused his sister, James’s expression became contrite. “Forgive me, Louisa. I do realise that we’re in the deuce of a mess.”

“How long before the debt must be paid?”

“A week.”

“As soon as that?” she whispered. “You will not accept Lord Dunstan’s invitation to go to his house, will you, James? Nothing can be achieved by it.”

James frowned, impatient at her naivety, still determined to try and recoup his losses in the only way he knew how. “You are a simpleton, Louisa. Don’t you know anything? You have spent so much of your time in the country with your head in the clouds that you have no conception of life in fashionable London. Lord Dunstan is one of the most important men in town. He rarely entertains, and no one in their right mind turns down an invitation to dine at Dunstan House.”

Louisa’s face turned pale. “That may be, but what is the point in going when you have nothing to gamble with? You have nothing left to cover your bet if you should lose. James, we can’t let Bierlow go.”

“If it comes down to it we’ll have to,” he replied, not sharing Louisa’s fondness of the family home. Anger at himself coiled within him, which he turned momentarily towards his sister. “Bierlow is the only thing left that would be worth money in the sums I need. You would have to come up to London and live with me.”

“No, James,” Louisa replied sharply, his airy tone whipping up her anger, unleashed irritation flooding through her. James had always been selfish—selfish and unthinking in his impulsiveness, in his assumption that what he did was all that mattered, forcing her to adjust her life to his. “I couldn’t.”

“You’ll have to. There’s nothing else for it.”

Louisa fell silent. James was becoming irritable and soon he would become more angry. How well she knew his moods, she thought miserably. An inexplicable weariness and pain lay heavy on her heart, the deepest, cruellest pain she would ever know. Despite James’s willingness to sell Bierlow Hall, it would tear her apart if she had to leave her beloved home. She would fight tooth and nail to hold onto it. Ever since their father had died, leaving them in dire straits, she had come up against so many obstacles, just managing to surmount them, and almost wearing herself out into the bargain, but this seemed to be just one obstacle too many.

No greater crisis had ever confronted her.

With his head pounding with a frightful hangover, after having spent most of the night trying to obliterate what he had done in a bottle of brandy, James Fraser rose the following morning from the bed in which he had fallen into a dissolute, drunken slumber in the certain knowledge that ruination was staring him in the face, unable to see how he could survive it. He surveyed bleakly what the remainder of his life would be like and it was not pleasant. It was not only himself who would suffer as a consequence of his recklessness at the card tables, but his sister also, and in that he could not defend himself.

When he entered the breakfast room Louisa was there already, looking unnaturally calm, her face pale through worry and lack of sleep. There was only a slight resemblance between brother and sister. Both were fair, but there the resemblance ended. Louisa was like a piece of thistledown with a finely structured face, whereas James was six feet and stockily built, with a strong square chin and grey-blue eyes.

Louisa was shocked by her brother’s appearance. Last night had aged him ten years. He looked thoroughly broken, his handsome face creased with deep lines of anxiety, his clothes and hair dishevelled.

“Dear God, Louisa! How could I have done it? We are in the devil of a fix. We are ruined. Quite ruined.” He threw himself down in a chair, staring with a stricken look out of bloodshot eyes at his sister. “What’s to be done? How are we to be saved?” he cried, looking at Louisa as if she knew the answer.

The appeal in his voice went straight to her heart. Without thinking of how they could save themselves, she went to her brother and put her arms round him. Her eyes were soft and tender and she spoke impulsively, lowering her cheek to his.

“We’ll think of a way, James. Something will come up, you’ll see.” she said, but she knew in that moment that there was not even the suspicion of a hope that something would happen to save them.

Later Louisa left the house to walk the short distance to Fleet Street to pay a visit to Mr Brewster’s second-hand bookshop, in the hope of obtaining for a few pence a book by William Collins of sentimental lyric poetry, a style that Mr Collins and others had first made fashionable in the 1740s. She was also glad of the opportunity to be out in the fresh air and to be alone for a while so that she might think.

She wanted nothing more than to return home to Bierlow and forget she had ever come up to London. But she couldn’t leave now. She did not trust her brother not to make matters worse—if they could be worse—and she was dreadfully afraid that he would become suicidal. Their situation was quite desperate, and, not possessing a plethora of relations they could turn to in order to bail them out, she knew that it would require all their brains and ingenuity if they were to survive.

After the death of their parents, James had selfishly taken himself off to London, preferring to live there rather than bury himself in the country, where he bemoaned the fact that there was nothing to do other than fish and hunt—which he could no longer do anyway, having sold all but three of his father’s horses. Two of these he had taken to London to pull his carriage and the other, an ageing mare, Louisa kept for domestic purposes.

She had soon learned that where James was concerned her own wishes were not to be consulted, and she had been forced by circumstances to live in genteel poverty, to be the keeper of Bierlow Hall and to put all her youthful energies and her loneliness into their home, where she was responsible for all the household matters and the staff—of which only two old retainers and a housemaid remained, the only three they could afford.

Mrs Marsh had taken over the duty of cook as well as housekeeper. Her husband, whose health was ailing, managed the stabling of the one horse and the kitchen garden and did odd repair jobs about the house, anything else being too much for him.

Over the years, as the money had dwindled, the old house had fallen into a sorry state of neglect. The curtains were faded and chairs and carpets threadbare. Windows were broken and the roof needed mending, and the garden was overgrown with a wild tangle of weeds. Life was a constant struggle and Louisa fought a never-ending battle with tradesmen and shopkeepers alike, stripping the house of several valuables which were not of sentimental worth and pieces of furniture to pay them.

All this had caused something to harden inside Louisa, to die, even. The lessons since her parents’ demise had been hard and she had learned them well, knowing she could expect little support from James as he went on his merry way unhindered. She had learned to deal with relentless adversity, to hide her disappointment in her brother and her fear for the future, and to hold her head high. And because of the time she spent alone at Bierlow Hall, making decisions and being responsible for others, she had acquired an independence of attitude and spirit.

But, despite James’s neglect of duty, Louisa understood him and loved him well, and would forgive him almost anything. Whenever he came down to Bierlow Hall to placate her, he would leave her a little money he had won at the tables, promising her that the day would soon come when he would make his fortune and bring her to London and find her a husband who would be worthy of her, before rushing off back to town.

Louisa would listen calmly, knowing this would never happen, and was resigned to remain at Bierlow Hall in semi-isolation for ever. The only luxury she permitted herself was her books, for it was only in these that she could find solace and escape from the daily concern of money.

Fleet Street, with its bookshops, printing establishments and coffee-houses, was a popular area for writers and poets. As always, it was crowded with journalists and salesmen, with newsboys running up and down carrying the latest broadsheets. Louisa kept close to the wall, for often it was difficult to walk in the streets, congested with draymen, hackneys and other hazards, without fear of injury.

She had come here once before when she had been in London and she remembered how she had loved the bustle of the busy street. Finding herself in front of Mr Brewster’s shop, the familiar sign above the door framed in iron and hanging out on a long bracket, vying with all the others along the street—and it was not unheard of for any one of them to fall down, to the danger of pedestrians—she entered the shop, where the smell of ink, paper and leather-bound books assailing her nostrils was surprisingly pleasant.

Like many other establishments, Mr Brewster’s shop stocked items other than books; book-selling alone was rarely sufficient to make a prosperous living. His shop was much frequented by scholars, who were able to afford the wide range of cheap, second-hand books he had on sale.

Several gentlemen in flamboyant wigs and brightly coloured frock coats were examining the books lining the shelves and paid her scant attention. Journals and pamphlets were stacked in piles on the floor, while books ranging from classics, educational, drama, romance, prose and many more filled the shelves.

Mr Brewster was unpacking some pamphlets and looked up when she entered, smiling brightly. She told him which book she wanted by William Collins and he frowned, evidently thinking hard as he rubbed his whiskery chin with ink-stained fingers.

“Let me see—I should have a copy somewhere. You browse, my dear, while I have a look in the back.”

Louisa did as he told her as he disappeared into the back of the shop, happy to wander among the narrow aisles crammed with books on dusty shelves. She examined books by Fielding and Defoe with avid interest, having read all of them, then took Clarissa, a book written by Samuel Richardson that was a particular favourite of hers, from the shelf. She had read it several times and agonised over poor Clarissa Harlowe’s fate on finding herself in the clutches of her abominable persecutor, Lovelace.

So lost was she in the print as she flicked through the well-thumbed pages that she was not aware that someone had come to stand beside her until he spoke.

“Why, Miss Divine. This is a surprise.”

Louisa looked up, amazed to find herself looking into a pair of familiar, vivid blue eyes. So abrupt was his appearance, and so unexpected, that her heart lurched, disbelief mingled with surprise holding her immobilised for a split second. Her first instinct was to turn on her heels and run, but her feet were firmly rooted to the spot, and, besides, he blocked her one way of escape. Immediately there was a resurgence in her of that frightening awareness of his vitality and magnetism that had affected her at Bricknell House when their eyes had met for the first time. He seemed to have set the whole atmosphere inside Mr Brewster’s bookshop vibrating.

“L-Lord Dunstan! Do forgive me—you startled me,” she stammered, her cheeks overspread with a deep flush, unable to prevent a picture of him and the unpleasantness of the previous evening from flashing through her mind. She felt overwhelmed by his close presence and he seemed to invade every part of her, but somehow she kept her head. She observed that he was as immaculately dressed as he had been at Lady Bricknell’s party, and she could not help noticing how black became him and how his pristine white cravat had been tied with a master’s hand.

“I apologise. I did not mean to,” he said, having recognised her instantly, even though she did not remotely resemble the young woman he had encountered at Lady Bricknell’s the previous evening.

He looked at her intently, startled once more by her beauty, finding himself looking into two warm and wonderfully expressive amber eyes flecked with yellow, opened wide in her heart-shaped, strikingly lovely face, her skin creamy, flawless and glowing with health, with an aureole of strawberry-blonde hair falling in a luxurious, shining tumble over her shoulders. Ever since he had first seen her he had wanted her, and meant to have her, her face never drifting from his mind’s eye.

“Mr Fraser is suffering no ill effects after last night, I hope?” he enquired in a bored, matter-of-fact way, as if it were of no consequence that James had lost his entire fortune to him.

Anger seared through Louisa like a hot knife at the lightness with which he spoke, but her pride forbade her to tell him of the devastation his game of cards with James had brought them. With a superhuman effort she managed to smile sweetly up at him.

“It is not the first time James has lost at cards, Lord Dunstan, and I am quite certain it will not be the last.”

“You have known each other long, Miss Divine—you and Mr Fraser?”

Louisa cringed when he addressed her as Miss Divine, thinking it a silly name and quite ridiculous, but a peculiar instinct born and bred in her told her not to let him know she was James’s sister. Let him continue to think she was his paramour; it was of no concern to her.

“Yes—quite some time,” she answered.

“And Sir Charles Meredith? It would appear you have an admirer in that gentleman. Do you know him well?”

“Why, no. In fact I do not know him at all. We had not met before last night,” Louisa told him. She saw that he was watching her closely, giving her the distinct impression that he was more concerned with how well she knew Sir Charles than how close she was to James, and making her wonder once again what could have happened to cause so much dislike between himself and Sir Charles Meredith. But she pushed the matter away, telling herself that no matter how unpleasant the situation might be that existed between the two men, it was their business and had absolutely nothing to do with her. She had troubles enough of her own without bothering her head about that.

Alistair nodded slightly. “I see. Then if, as you say, he is a stranger to you, take my advice and be very careful before becoming better acquainted with him. Do not allow yourself to be taken in by him. Oh, he can be charming and persuasive, I grant you, but he is not what he seems.”

Louisa gave him a cool stare. “Thank you, Lord Dunstan,” she said curtly, “but your opinion does not interest me. I choose my own friends.”

Alistair’s answer to this was a faintly sardonic smile. “Of course. Tell me, are you here alone today?”

“Yes. I enjoy browsing among the bookshelves. Besides, James is not a reader.”

“And you are?”

“Yes, very much so. Are you here to purchase a book yourself, Lord Dunstan?”

“No. I am here to see an acquaintance of mine on the Morning Chronicle. We are to meet in the Mitre tavern further along. I happened to be passing when I saw you enter the shop. I was curious. I thought I recognised you. I do recall seeing you once before, albeit some time ago,” he said with a crooked grin, full of charm. “Or perhaps I should say twice?”

Louisa looked at him sharply, having recognised his features at first glance the previous evening. But she was still unable to remember where.

“Let me enlighten you. The first time was at Vauxhall Gardens—some two months ago, as I recall—when you were in the company of Mr Fraser and Mr Hacket. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, as I remember.”

Instantly Louisa recalled the occasion in Vauxhall Gardens, when James had insisted upon taking her there to celebrate her birthday, and she flushed, feeling defenceless suddenly when her memory of that night came flooding back. At last she recalled where she had seen Lord Dunstan before, remembering how he had stood and watched her for some considerable time while she had danced with Timothy and James. The fact that he had observed her so clearly—and recalling how she had unashamedly returned his bold stare, and the pleasure she had derived from it—swamped her with mortification and embarrassment.

Quickly she composed her features, giving Lord Dunstan no indication of how much her recollection of that occasion affected her, but he was not deceived, being well schooled in the way women’s minds worked, and he was secretly amused by it.

“Isn’t that what one’s supposed to do when visiting the pleasure gardens, Lord Dunstan?” Louisa replied a little breathlessly. “It was my birthday, and James took me there as a special treat. But I must say that I am flattered to think you even remember seeing me there amongst all the other ladies present.”

“I never forget a beautiful face, Miss Divine, especially not when it happens to be as lovely as yours,” he complimented, enjoying the slight unease this seemed to cause her. “The second time I saw you was the morning after at St Paul’s Church in Covent Garden,” he went on. “I remember how intent you were on your devotions, how concentrated.”

Louisa also recalled seeing him in St Paul’s Church, which was close to Henrietta Street. Feeling the need of prayer that day, after a bitter and heated exchange with James the previous evening on their return from Vauxhall Gardens, when he had stormed out of the house to visit his club, she had attended the service, finding the small church an oasis of peace.

“Isn’t everyone when they go to church, Lord Dunstan?” she answered, thinking how quickly she had forgotten him because of what had followed with James. “Otherwise what is the point in going at all? Although it is clear to me you were not as intent on your own devotions if you allowed your attention to stray to me.

“However, I am flattered to learn that I made such a distinct impression on you, causing you to remember me after two whole months—which is more than can be said of myself. I confess that when I saw you yesterday your face did seem a trifle familiar, but I could not recall where I might have seen you.”

“Which tells me you were not as impressed by me as I was by you.” He chuckled, unoffended.

“Most of the ladies I meet are more than eager to be amiable to me because of who I am, but you have the unique distinction of being the only woman I have ever met who is honest enough to tell me to my face that, having met me, she does not remember me.”

“Really? And you are not put out?” Louisa asked drily, thinking that what he said must be true; that if he was as wealthy as Timothy had said he was—and with his kind of looks—he must have women falling at his feet like dominoes in a row, all rendered quite helpless when confronted by his charm and allure.

“Not in the slightest. In fact I find it a refreshing change. Tell me, do you often worship at St Paul’s Church?”

“No. Only on the odd occasion when I happen to be in London—when I find the need to atone for my sins,” she said softly, her eyes teasing, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Which was, perhaps, your own reason for being there, Lord Dunstan?”

He smiled mischievously. “What else? And are you a frequent visitor to Brewster’s bookshop?”

“No,” she answered, suddenly beginning to feel slightly uneasy. She did not like the way he had followed her inside Mr Brewster’s bookshop, nor did she like his easy manner and the steady, unsettling gaze of his penetrating blue eyes. He was the most lethally attractive man she had ever met, and she would have to take care not to be drawn in by him. Swiftly she raised her defences. “I do not pretend to be knowledgeable about books, but I do enjoy reading. You seem surprised, Lord Dunstan?”

His handsome mouth curved into a slight smile. “I can imagine you in many places, but a bookshop is not one of them—unless, of course, you are on the stage and looking for some material to do with a play,” he said, sounding casual, his eyes filled with idle speculation as he studied her closely.

“No,” Louisa answered calmly, knowing he was fishing for information about her, but preferring to keep him guessing. The less he knew about her, the better she would feel.

He frowned. “You are a complete contradiction in terms of appearance.”

“A contradiction?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Let me see the book that has caught your attention.” Reaching out, he took the book she had been flicking through from her hands. Reading the title on the spine, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Clarissa! It would not be my choice of good reading, but I can quite see why it appeals to the ladies.”

“No matter what your opinion, Lord Dunstan, the book has met with considerable success and is a fine work,” said Louisa quickly, in defence of her favourite book. “I cannot understand why you should pour scorn on it.”

He smiled. “Clarissa is a nervous young woman of excessive sentiment and sensibility. I confess to having read the book but she did not endear herself to me in the slightest.”

“And how do you define sentiment and sensibility, Lord Dunstan?”

“As expressions of intense human feelings—of which the heroine in question is in possession to excess. The two words are often confused. Sentiment is ruled by the human heart—which is the centre of all emotion—whereas sensibility is the key to bodily sensations—touch and such things,” he said softly, his eyes filling with amusement when she flushed and lowered her gaze at his definition and the hidden connotation of the words. He smiled, knowing exactly the effect he was having on her. “Clearly you enjoyed the book?”

“Yes,” she replied, wishing she had not asked him to define the two words because she knew she was blushing at the intimacy of his tone. There was altogether something too explicit and intense in his eyes. However, she refused to be deflected. “So much so that I have read it several times. I confess I was much moved and felt a great deal of sympathy for Clarissa—being pursued and persecuted so cruelly by the abominable Lovelace.”

“Ah, but she did throw herself on his mercy.”

“She accepted Lovelace’s offer of help because she was quite desperate to save herself from a dreadful marriage, only to find herself in a worse situation than she was before.”

“And you have an affinity to Clarissa, have you, Miss Divine?”

Louisa smiled with a faint trace of cynicism. “Oh, I believe there is a Clarissa in most women, Lord Dunstan—just as there is a Lovelace in most men.”

“Perhaps you are right, but we do not all have to resort to kidnap to engage the affections of the ladies we desire. You speak from experience, I think, Miss Divine?” he said slowly, meaningfully, in a voice low with seduction that made Louisa think improper things; it was a voice few women would be able to resist, especially not if the man speaking happened to look like Lord Dunstan—over six feet tall and built like a Greek athlete of old.

She looked at him, suddenly beginning to feel out of her depth, unable to answer his question, and feeling a wave of hot colour burn her cheeks under his close scrutiny. She was relieved when Mr Brewster chose that moment to come shuffling along the aisle towards her.

“I must apologise, my dear young lady, for taking so long. I thought I had a copy of Mr Collins’ poems but I was mistaken.”

“That’s all right, Mr Brewster.” Louisa smiled. “Thank you for taking the trouble to look.”

When he had moved away, Louisa looked up to see Lord Dunstan eyeing her with some amusement and a hint of mockery, his eyelids drooped down over his glorious blue eyes giving him a lazy, sleepy look.

“William Collins! A book of sentimental lyric poetry that is fashionable and much sought after in some circles, I believe.” His smile widened. “I salute your taste, Miss Divine—a veritable catalogue of sensation. Perhaps Mr Brewster might order it for you if you are so desirous to obtain it.”

“I am sure he would, but that would not be convenient.”

“And why is that, pray?”

“Because I do not intend remaining in London for very much longer, Lord Dunstan. That is why.”

“You are not leaving before I have had the pleasure of receiving you at Dunstan House on Thursday evening, I hope?”

In answer she took the book he was still holding and placed it back on the shelf, conscious as she did so that their fingers touched. She moved away from him quickly, disturbed by his close proximity but refusing to show it—although she strongly suspected he was aware of it and found it amusing. Assuming a calm, almost blasé expression, she smiled.

“That all depends on Mr Fraser, Lord Dunstan.”

“And you wish to visit the pleasure gardens that evening, as I remember. Ranelagh or Vauxhall?”

“Why, I—we, that is—have not yet decided,” she stammered.

“Good. Then you should not be disappointed if you have to put off going.” His expression suddenly changed and the lightness disappeared from his tone. He looked at her hard, moving closer. “Come, now, Miss Divine, let us cut the preliminaries, shall we? You strike me as being a sensible young woman—and a beautiful one—although from my experience the two do not always keep good company.

“I find you extremely attractive and it is obvious we were made to know each other better—that our paths were destined to cross. Should Mr Fraser find he has another engagement tomorrow night, you could accompany Mr Hacket to Dunstan House or come by yourself. You will be well received and find it extremely rewarding.”

Even though Louisa had spent all her life buried in the country, away from the sleaze and corruption of London, she would have had to be a simple, naive fool not to have known the implication of his words. Insulted, hot, angry colour flooded her cheeks again and she took a step back abruptly, gazing at him with pure loathing.

“I think you are mistaken, Lord Dunstan. I am not for sale.”

He arched his brow infuriatingly. “Oh! I thought all the ladies who attended Lady Bricknell’s parties were?”

“I can assure you that this one isn’t. Goodbye, Lord Dunstan.”

Louisa turned and marched out of the shop with all the dignity she could muster, never having been so insulted in her entire life. But what did she expect, she rebuked herself furiously, after brazenly showing herself at a party thrown by a notorious socialite of Lady Bricknell’s ilk? Lord Dunstan, along with every other man present, could not be blamed for believing her to be a whore.

Alistair watched Louisa go with a brooding attentiveness in his eyes and not without a good deal of interest, extremely puzzled by her behaviour. Hostility from the likes of her was not something he had encountered before. Most young ladies were more than eager to be amiable to him.

But in Miss Divine’s voice there had been something sincere which troubled him. She was not of a common kind, and there was also about her a mysterious, almost sweet and gentle allure. Could it be that she was different from the others? But no, he told himself harshly, striding out of the shop, angry that she had been capable of rousing in him a moment of weakness.

He knew from harsh experience that a woman’s face could be deceptive. Why should Miss Divine be any different? If that was her real name, which he very much doubted, which gave him all the evidence he needed of how good an actress she was and how well practised in the arts of deception. But as he strode along Fleet Street towards the Mitre tavern he was unable to cast her from his thoughts, for every time he saw her—in surroundings so very different from the ones before—she succeeded in getting under his skin.

She had the poise of a woman fully conscious of her beautiful face and figure, and his instinct detected untapped depths of passion in her that sent silent signals instantly recognisable to a lusty, full-blooded male like himself. The impact of these signals caused an ache to start deep inside him and brought a smouldering glow to his eyes as he imagined what it would be like to possess such a glorious creature—and that was the moment when he marked Miss Divine as his own.

Somehow Louisa managed to turn in the direction of Henrietta Street, trying to still the angry trembling inside, her cheeks still burning with shame. Lord Dunstan was despicable, even more despicable than she recalled, and she detested him thoroughly—for what he was, what he thought she was, and for what he had done to James. But with every step that took her further away from Mr Brewster’s bookshop a plan was forming in her mind, a plan so shocking she hardly dared enlarge on it. It caused her heart to pound so hard she could scarcely breathe, for it was a plan no gently bred young lady would dare think of, let alone consider.

Yet as she walked with her head down, completely unaware of the people around her, she fixed her mind on the plan, and, with a cold logic, let it grow until she could think of nothing else. At one stroke Lord Dunstan had presented her with an answer to her problem. He was obviously attracted by her, assessing her for the possibility of an amorous affair. He had told her that he wanted her and would reward her well. By giving herself to him, it could wipe out James’s debt entirely.

The thought of giving herself to Lord Dunstan sent a chill down her spine, but it did not shock her, the events of the past twenty-four hours having drained her of all feeling so there was hardly any emotion left in her. If her capacity to feel had been intact, everything inside her would have protested and rebelled against the plan forming in her mind, for she hated Lord Dunstan. But with her feelings and emotions deadened by the anxiety of the situation James had created her thoughts were entirely practical.

Nevertheless, there was a battle taking place within her soul, a battle between right and wrong, as taught her by her mother and the religious teachings of the church in which she had been raised. What she was considering would have been wholly abhorrent to the gentle woman who had raised her, who had stressed time and again that fornication before marriage was a mortal sin which would result in hell fire and damnation.

But, driven on by desperation, Louisa pushed these thoughts away. She and James had been impoverished for a long time, but had always managed to keep their heads above water. She was determined they would not become beggars. If there was a way of holding onto everything that was precious, of saving herself and James from homelessness and starvation, then she would do everything in her power to do so, and, if there was any understanding in heaven, perhaps her mother would forgive her for what she was about to do.

However, she knew James would never agree to her plan, and told herself that he need know nothing about it until such a day when she might have to tell him. And as for Lord Dunstan, he would continue to think of her as Miss Divine, and, afterwards, when the retrieval of James’s IOU had been accomplished, she would disappear from his life as though she had never been in it and return to Bierlow Hall. There she would be able to pick up the normal threads of her life with no slur attached to her name. The shame would be something she alone would have to bear.




Chapter Three


By the time Louisa reached the house there was a curious lightness to her step and a freedom in her heart. She knew that what she was planning would place her in unfamiliar territory, but she could not bear to contemplate the alternative. The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced it was the answer to all their problems.

She was surprised to find Timothy there alone, and disappointed to find that James, despite his circumstances, had left for the Somerset coffee-house in the Strand to meet up with some of his acquaintances, who usually gathered there in the mornings for breakfast and to converse.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Louisa,” Timothy said on a serious note. “When I arrived Alice told me both you and James were out, but that you would not be long. I’ve nothing doing today so I thought you and James might care to take a stroll in St James’s Park with me this afternoon. It’s a pleasant day and we could watch the soldiers on parade at Horse Guards. Afterwards we could take tea somewhere pleasant and later you and James can be my guests for supper. Come, what do you say? It might be just the thing you need to help cheer you after the unfortunate events of last night.”

Louisa gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Timothy. That’s extremely thoughtful of you. I must say it sounds like just what I need right now. However, I’m glad you waited. There is something I wish to discuss with you,” she said brusquely, handing her cloak to Alice and going into the sitting room, closing the door after Timothy had followed her inside. She stood before the fireplace, her hands folded quietly in front of her and her face set in lines of resolve. “Tell me more about Lord Dunstan, Timothy. Is he married?”

Her question came as some surprise to Timothy. “No—not any more. He was once, I believe, but something happened and he and his wife parted. I don’t know the details exactly—in fact, I think there are few who do for certain. It all took place at his home—Huntswood, in Sussex. Bit of a mystery, if you ask me—it was all so secretive—but from what I remember of the gossip at the time, I think she ran off with someone else.”

“I see. What else do you know about him?”

“Alistair Dunstan is a very private man, Louisa, who is a regular attender at Westminster, taking his seat in the House of Lords. Apart from attending White’s—where he is often to be found playing cards well into the night, he is not often seen in fashionable society—and when he is it is always at the theatre or some event of Lady Bricknell’s. As you know, he is extremely wealthy—owning a large estate in Sussex and having inherited certain properties here in London from his wife—and by all accounts he is a shrewd man when it comes to investments. He has a finger in several industrial developments, both in England and abroad. He is always reticent about his personal, private affairs.”

“And I can understand why, if his wife preferred being with another man.”

“So tell me, why the curiosity?”

“Because I think I know a way of clearing James’s debt, and it is important to me to know whether or not Lord Dunstan has a wife. It will make all the difference to what I am about to do.”

“May I ask why?”

Louisa faced him steadily, looking so young, so fixed and determined. “I have decided to become Lord Dunstan’s mistress.”

Appalled and alarmed, Timothy stared at her. “What?” he gasped. “Louisa! Have you taken leave of your senses? You cannot be serious about this?”

“I am deadly serious, Timothy,” she replied firmly. “It is not a matter I would jest about.”

“But you can’t. You cannot sell yourself to pay off James’s debts. It—it’s diabolical. It—it’s obscene,” Timothy protested forcefully. “I cannot believe you are saying this—that I am hearing this. You! You and Lord Dunstan!”

Louisa swallowed hard. “Yes. I have to. Timothy, Bierlow is not just my place of birth, it is my life,” she explained. “I have nothing else, don’t you see that? Do you think I have not anguished over this…what I have to do…on the chance I am taking? If James and I are to retain what little we have, then I have no choice—unless you can think of some other way.”

“You know I can’t, Louisa. But if I had the money I would give it to you—you know that.”

Louisa smiled, knowing he spoke the truth. As the younger son of a lord with a modest estate in Oxfordshire, Timothy had inherited neither title nor fortune. His position was not unlike James’s, except that unlike James, with his intemperate desire for pleasure, and who seemed to be hell-bent on self-destruction, Timothy knew how to control both his spending and his gambling.

“I know, and thank you, Timothy,” she said. “You’re a good friend—none better—to both James and me. But this is something I am going to have to sort out myself. It’s just a pity James doesn’t feel the same way, instead of drowning himself in liquor and waiting for something to turn up. He’s always been like that. Ever since the death of our parents he has had so many misconceptions about life. The estate—such as it is now that most of the land has been sold and we are left with just the house and the tenant farms—makes demands on us that should, in all fairness, have been seen to before James allowed himself the luxury of pleasure.”

There was sympathy in Timothy’s eyes which told Louisa he understood exactly.

“I have to agree with you there,” he said.

“For a long time now I have lived a spartan existence at Bierlow, making do with just the bare necessities. The estate has never meant as much to James as it does to me,” she said with a trace of sadness. “I know that, and he’s always hated the country. When he did spare the time to visit he would cheer me and promise that everything would soon be all right again—and like a fool I wanted to believe him—but it never was. I love Bierlow, Timothy. It holds so many memories. It’s my home. I can’t see it go. You do understand, don’t you?”

Timothy smiled with understanding. “Of course. But you’ll have to leave one day—when you marry,” he stated gently.

“I know. I understand it can never be mine—not in the way it will be James’s—and I accept that, but I must keep it in the family. James may not appreciate it now, but I am sure he will in time—when he finds the right woman and marries and settles down to have children.”

“James doesn’t realise how lucky he is to have you for a sister. But I cannot let you go ahead with this. I am on your side, first and foremost,” he said soothingly, “and you shouldn’t be worrying about this sort of thing. It is for James to get himself out of this mess. Believe me, Louisa, it’s for your sake I say this. If you go ahead with this crazy idea your reputation will be in shreds in no time at all. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course, but I do not place my virtue above retaining all that is important and dear to me—to me and to James, even though he doesn’t yet know it. The shame is something I shall have to live with, but what I am about to do countless women have done before,” she said quietly. “No one will know who I am. Lord Dunstan will think of me as Miss Divine. He need never know I am James’s sister. I shall disappear from his life just as soon as I have what I want.”

Timothy frowned, his eyes piercing right through her. “You have seen Lord Dunstan since last night, haven’t you, Louisa?”

“Yes, I have,” she admitted. “At Mr Brewster’s bookshop in Fleet Street when I was there earlier to purchase a book I wanted. We met quite by chance.”

“And he approached you—propositioned you?”

“Yes.”

Timothy’s expression became violent. “Good God! Has the man no scruples?”

“Why should he?” she replied with slight irony. “I was at Lady Bricknell’s party, don’t forget. That alone condemns me in his eyes. It is only natural he would assume I am James’s mistress.”

“Louisa, please don’t do this,” Timothy pleaded. “You don’t know the kind of man Alistair Dunstan is—what you are letting yourself in for. You have no knowledge or experience of men like him and you could very soon find yourself out of your depth. The man is cold and ruthless and as hard as steel. He attracts women effortlessly, leaving a trail of devastation in his wake. If he wants you, he may refuse to let you go—and you may not want to—but if he tires of you he will discard you like a broken toy. Better James is sent to the debtors’ gaol than that.”

Louisa paled. “That I could not bear, Timothy. James would never survive it.”

“In my opinion a gentleman is better off dead or humbled than alive and proud at the expense of his sister’s virtue,” he scorned.

“Nevertheless, I have to do this—my mind is made up,” Louisa said in a curiously flat and unemotional voice. “I will be a quiet bedfellow for Lord Dunstan—not a willing one. I think he will soon be more than happy to be rid of me.”

As to that, Timothy very much doubted. Living in isolation, Louisa had no concept of men of Lord Dunstan’s calibre. If she did but know it, her face and figure were her fortune, and he couldn’t think of any man who would willingly part with her having once possessed her—including the formidable Lord Dunstan. His face took on a judicial look.

“And what will you tell James? You will have to tell him, you know. Do you think that for one minute he will agree to this madcap idea?”

“I have no intention of telling him. He mustn’t find out, Timothy. Please—please promise me you will not tell him,” she pleaded.

Timothy’s face was grim. “It seems you leave me with little choice, but I don’t like it, Louisa. James is my friend and there have never been secrets between us. If he should find out about this—and that I was a party to it—it could very well mean the end of our friendship.”

Louisa sighed, looking at his kind face and seeing it was full of concern for her. “I know. I am sorry to place this burden upon you, Timothy. But I do not believe it would come to that. Your friendship means a great deal to James.”

“Have you arranged a meeting with Lord Dunstan?”

“No, but James insists on accepting Lord Dunstan’s invitation and going to Dunstan House on Thursday evening. I shall accompany him, and I would like you to come too, Timothy, to keep an eye on him, just in case he is tempted to play cards and we find another stack of IOUs at the end of the evening.” She sighed deeply. “It will be difficult enough persuading one gentleman to return his IOU—any more would be quite impossible.”

“Yes, I’ll come, but do you think that once you have been with Lord Dunstan, and you have what you want that you will remain untouched, that it will be easy to forget and carry on as if nothing has happened? Because it won’t. You will not be able to leave your demons behind, Louisa, and the harder you run, the harder they will chase you. You are heading straight for your downfall. Not even the craziest gambler would risk this.”

“Then let us be thankful that, for James’s sake and my own, I am not a gambler,” she said, “otherwise nothing would be done.”

She frowned, suddenly thoughtful, thinking of all the painted and gaudily dressed ladies she had seen at Lady Bricknell’s house. “My biggest problem is what to wear. I do not possess any fashionable gowns, and heaven forbid I should be seen wearing the cream one I travelled up from Surrey in—the one I was wearing when I went in search of James last night—which is plain and deplorably out of fashion. All my other dresses are at Bierlow, most of them faded and mended anyway, so they would not do either, and I cannot possibly afford a new one. It is imperative that I make an impression.”

“Perhaps I can help there. My sister Amelia is about your size, I should think, and has more gowns than she knows what to do with. I’ll see what I can do.”

Louisa smiled gratefully. “Oh, Timothy, would she mind?”

He grinned. “No. If I know my woolly-headed sister she’d not even notice their disappearance if I took them without her knowing.”

“Oh, no,” Louisa said quickly, shocked that Timothy might do just that. “You mustn’t do that. You must ask her properly, even though she might refuse.”

In the midst of this grave situation a twinkle came into his eyes. “I think I can answer for my sister. I promise she will be only too pleased to lend you anything you might need. In fact, because of her fondness for James, which never ceases to amaze me considering his unappealing habits,” he said, not unkindly, “she’ll look on it as a pleasure.”

“Thank you,” Louisa said, her expression serious, her eyes troubled as she realised that Timothy had now become her ally as well as her friend. “I want to shine, Timothy. I have to dazzle Lord Dunstan. He has to want me enough to pay me four thousand guineas.”

Louisa’s face was heartbreaking in its hope, causing Timothy to marvel at her spirit. How he wished he could make her change her mind about going ahead with this madcap plan, but he knew her well, knew how stubborn she could be, and how difficult to dissuade once her mind was made up. It seemed to him that she was as blinkered as any carthorse, refusing to see, or even contemplate, anything but a satisfactory outcome to her forthcoming visit to Dunstan House.

“If you insist on going ahead with this ludicrous plan of yours, then we shall see to it that Lord Dunstan is unable to resist you.”

It was with immense relief to Louisa that James returned in sober mood and had no objection to their all going to St James’s Park for the afternoon. In fact, he welcomed the opportunity to get away from the confines of the house, where brooding on his situation would only make it a thousand times worse.

The park was lovely and full of people, some strolling whilst others gathered in clusters to gossip. There were swarms of rosy-cheeked, excited children playing all manner of games, and pretty young girls flirting with young bloods and off-duty soldiers. An abundance of multicoloured flowers in beds and borders added a vivid splash of colour to the park, and the grass, where people lolled about, was like soft green velvet. Fallow deer roamed free and were a constant delight to the children, in particular, who loved to feed them. They were so tame that they took bits of food gently out of their hands.

The three of them watched the soldiers, resplendent in their colourful red and blue uniforms, parading at Horse Guards, which was one of the main attractions of the park during the afternoons. Afterwards Timothy bought some oranges from a hawker, which they ate as they strolled towards the northern boundary of the Mall, where they purchased mugs of fresh warm milk, drawn from the cows tethered in a line to posts.

James continued to be in a morose mood, and, while Timothy tried to coax him out of it, Louisa wandered down to the edge of the lake to watch the ducks swimming and diving on the sparkling surface. Startled when she heard someone call out her name, she looked up and saw Sir Charles Meredith advancing towards her.

Always in the forefront of fashion, and with a high sense of style, he was sporting an extraordinary scarlet three-piece suit, the buttonholes of his coat heavy with gold embroidery. His jabot was frothy and elaborate, his cuffs beautiful, and his white silk hose, rising from diamond-buckled shoes, fitted tightly over well-muscled calves to his knees. He carried a small beaver hat, and, with his bobbed wig, he looked like an exotic tropical bird.

Although they had met only briefly at Bricknell House the evening before, it had been long enough for her to make an assessment and form her own opinion of him, despite Lord Dunstan and James, which was one of dislike; she detected a good deal of craft and guile about the man which she found off-putting.

His eyes roved in arrogant appreciation from her hair to her face, to the slender column of her neck, her shoulders and her breasts. The look she found insolent, causing her indignation to rise, but when he favoured her with such a charming, engaging smile, his teeth flashing white as they caught the sun, she suddenly found it impossible to be rude to him and melted a little, returning his smile. His very look made it plain to her that he desired her unashamedly, and, in her present confused state, she was ready to find comfort in any kind of positive feeling.

“Good Lord! Miss Divine! So it is you,” he enthused as he joined her, bowing with an elaborate flourish and a smile. “What a surprise. You can’t believe what a pleasure it is for me to see you again, and so soon. Who would have thought it?”

“Who indeed!” smiled Louisa.

“My luck’s certainly in. It is fortunate for me that I find you all alone,” he said in a lazy drawl.

“Not quite, Sir Charles,” she said, looking to where James and Timothy stood. They were so heavily engrossed in conversation that, as yet, they were not aware that Sir Charles had approached her.

Sir Charles followed her gaze and scowled, but he quickly ignored them and fixed his gaze on Louisa’s face once more, his countenance restored to good humour. “You look ravishing. Damn me if I can remember when I last saw a prettier face than yours.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can if you try,” Louisa said, her wonderful amber eyes filled with wry amusement, noting that his voice lacked sincerity, and that he spoke with well-regulated practice.

“It is the kind of face that is capable of driving a man to distraction. Ever since I saw you last night, I confess I’ve been thinking about you—a great deal, in fact—and now here you are.”

“I’m sure you’ll soon get over it.” There was no doubt about it, she thought with cynicism, not deceived or beguiled by his easy chatter. He was dazzling, with a lying, flattering tongue in his head.

He raised one languid eyebrow. “You’re having a pleasant stroll, I hope?”

“Yes, thank you. Very pleasant.”

He glanced towards James. “Fraser looks down in the mouth, I see, although the poor chap has a right to be after his rotten luck last night. He lost heavily to Lord Dunstan, I believe.” His gaze settled on her once more, his face lustful, with a certain excitement in his eyes and an air of lecherous anticipation emanating from them. “If it prevents him entertaining you in the manner to which you are accustomed, might I offer my services—? When you can escape his watchful eye, of course. Nothing would please me more.”

“Thank you. I’m flattered. But that won’t be necessary, Sir Charles,” she said, more reluctant than ever to divulge that James was her brother and not her lover, beginning to think the subterfuge accorded her some protection against men like Sir Charles Meredith. “I have not yet grown so tired of him that I would willingly leave him for another. You do understand, I hope?”

“Then he is fortunate. Such devotion is a rarity indeed in our society. But he neglects you, I see. Any man who can neglect such a beautiful creature is a fool.”

“Most men are fools, are they not, Sir Charles?” Louisa countered.

Sir Charles’s eyes focused narrowly on hers. “Ah! You have wit too, I see. I would steal you myself if you were not already spoken for,” he said softly, with a sly smile and a lowering of one heavy eyelid that constituted a wink. “So take care that you do not drive me to distraction, otherwise you will learn how far my desires can carry me—Mr Fraser or no.”

Louisa gave a delicate lift to her brows. “Are you always so persistent, Sir Charles?”

“Always,” he said as he began to accompany her back to where James and Timothy were still deep in conversation. “You think I’m insufferable, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted, unable to prevent a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Quite.”

He was not at all disturbed or offended by her honest reply. “Well, I can be quite a charming and delightful chap when you get to know me. I have an appalling reputation, I know, but I would ask you not to listen to gossip, Miss Divine. You shouldn’t believe everything. I’m not ignorant of what’s said about me, and I’m afraid I have been dreadfully maligned.”

She laughed lightly. “Then I’m sorry to put a dampener on your ego, Sir Charles, but until last night, when we met in the doorway at Bricknell House, I had never heard of you before in my life.”

He sighed regretfully. “That’s what comes of spending too much time in the country. It stultifies one’s mind and leads to boredom.”

“Possibly. But you can set your mind at rest,” she said, looking up at him sideways, meaningfully. “I have never been one to listen to gossip—only facts.”

Neither of them saw a group of four people coming towards them: a man, two women, and a young boy. Having just replied to something amusing Sir Charles had said, which had brought a smile to her lips and a sparkle to her eyes, Louisa suddenly noticed their approach, and her smile froze as her gaze became fixed on them.

One of the women, whom she thought to be in her mid-thirties, was handsome and quite tall, her gloved hand placed lightly on the gentleman’s arm. The other woman Louisa saw was much younger, still a girl, in fact, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old. Her hair was dark and arranged in ringlets which bounced delightfully when she moved her head, and she was extremely pretty, with a vivacity and freshness to her manner. The young boy, who she surmised must be the older woman’s son, sported a shock of dark brown curls and was happily skipping along beside them. But it was the gentleman who caught Louisa’s eyes and held them, for it was Lord Dunstan.

Both parties stopped abruptly, leaving several paces between them, Lord Dunstan’s gaze barely resting on Louisa before sliding to her companion, his eyes so cold she thought they could annihilate a man.

Louisa noticed how the older woman paled and drew in her breath quickly, her hand rising to her throat as her eyes were drawn towards Sir Charles, as if seeing a ghost. Lord Dunstan’s features froze, and taking the woman’s arm, after throwing Louisa a glance which was like a poison dart, he abruptly stepped off the path and began walking away, calling sharply to the boy and the young lady to follow, but not before Louisa had seen his eyes darken with anger and contempt.

She watched them go, noticing how the young woman paused and looked at Sir Charles with surprise, staring at him openly and with all the innocence of her tender years, clearly dazzled for the first time in her life by a supremely handsome man, allowing the corners of her inviting mouth to twitch slightly, and looking curiously exposed as she caught her breath and flushed a bright pink. Her eyes were as big as saucers and held far too much eloquence as she gazed at him wondrously, until she responded to Lord Dunstan’s sharp order and reluctantly tore her eyes from his.

She had looked so startled that Louisa was convinced she could not have uttered a word if her life had depended on it. Casting a sideways glance at Sir Charles, she saw his full pink mouth turn up in one corner in a grin, and beneath his heavy, drooping lids his eyes were filled with amusement and idle speculation as he watched her hurry away.

Filled with confusion by Lord Dunstan’s show of rudeness, Louisa was puzzled by his behaviour and that of the older woman, but recalling the intense dislike Lord Dunstan so clearly felt for Sir Charles, which he had made evident on both occasions she had met him, she thought he must have good reason to cut him in public so deliberately. However, she thought, with some regret, considering what she had in mind where Lord Dunstan was concerned, it was unfortunate that he had seen her with Sir Charles Meredith; no doubt it would not help her cause and he would draw his own conclusions and be reluctant to have anything to do with her, despite what he had said to her at Mr Brewster’s bookshop.

In an attempt to dispel the coldness that the brief encounter with Lord Dunstan had caused her, Louisa smiled up at Sir Charles, beginning to walk on. He fell into step beside her.

“I saw the way the young lady looked at you, Sir Charles, which you must have observed for yourself. It would seem you have an admirer, and I suspect it amuses you to have a flirtatious exchange with such an innocent young girl.” She spoke lightly, an innocent herself, unprepared for Sir Charles’s reply, which her untutored mind regarded as obscene.

“I agree she is extremely pretty—and ripe for more than a mere glance. The crux of the matter is, though, that she is Dunstan’s sister, and, as you will have observed for yourself, he and I are not the best of friends. However, it is such a waste to keep that appealing little virgin tucked away at his home in Sussex.”

Louisa stared at him, shocked that he should exhibit such an unrestrained interest in such a young girl. “If she is to remain in that condition, then in my opinion I think it best that she remains there, Sir Charles,” she chided, “under her brother’s watchful eye and away from the rakes and debauchees of London—away from such destructive, immoral influences as yourself, for it is clear to me that her innocence and naivety only adds to her attraction in your eyes.”

He laughed lightly, a lewd, lascivious gleam in his eyes. “You are right, I admit it. The sight of so much innocence excites me—makes me imagine those pleasures and sensations, such as Miss Dunstan can never have experienced, being aroused by me. I find the aura of pure virginity combined with youth and beauty irresistible. And the seemingly unobtainable is always the most desirable to me, my dear Miss Divine—as is the case with yourself,” he said huskily as his eyes devoured her soft lips.

“But if I wanted to sample the innocent delights of the adorable Miss Dunstan I would not be put off by her brother,” he went on. “No, indeed I would not,” he said without preamble, quietly, firmly and convincingly, his eyes following the retreating figure of the alluring young woman, who turned her head briefly to look back once more.

There was a hard gleam in his eyes, his gaze speculative and predatory as he watched her disappear amongst a group of trees, along with the other members of her group. His words caused Louisa to swallow down a sudden rush of revulsion. She observed the way his eyes followed the young woman, and it troubled her and created a feeling of unease. It was an incident she was to recall at a later date, but for now she put it out of her mind. Quickening her stride, for she was suddenly eager to be done with his company, she drew a shaky breath.

“What on earth have you done, Sir Charles, that makes Lord Dunstan scowl at you so whenever the two of you meet?”

Louisa noted that suddenly he was no longer his usual, smiling, convivial self, that a seriousness had descended on him as he fixed his unreadable gaze straight ahead.

“He bears me a personal grudge—and it is I who should be doing the scowling, Miss Divine. I am guilty of nothing where that gentleman is concerned. Any wrongdoing was done by him, not by me.”

“Why? What on earth has he done that is so dreadful?”

His face became grim, his eyes hard, and there was something so terrible in their fixed, unnatural brightness that Louisa felt her throat tighten. He spoke slowly, quietly and deliberately, each word enunciated.

“He cheated me out of the woman I was to have married.”

“Oh! Then should it not be you who bears the grudge, Sir Charles?”

He grimaced, seeming not to hear her as he became immersed in some unpleasant thought. His lips compressed and his gloved fingers closed on the brim of his hat, crushing the edge, leaving Louisa in no doubt as to the depth of hatred that existed between himself and Lord Dunstan.

“I-In what way did he cheat you?” Louisa asked nervously, for Sir Charles Meredith no longer resembled the man of a few moments before, all trace of the charming rake he portrayed to the world having vanished. The expression in his eyes had become ugly, his features contorted almost beyond recognition. The expression was fleeting and soon passed, but it left Louisa with a sinking feeling and a sense of regret that she had unwittingly prodded a wound that was still raw, seeping and extremely painful for both men.

“He married her himself when my back was turned—when I was unable to do anything about it. But it backfired on him miserably, which was no more than he deserved,” he uttered fiercely. “However, it is all a long time ago and in the past.”

“But not forgotten by either of you, it would seem?”

“No, indeed. He did me a grave injustice and the day will come when I shall pay the almighty Alistair Dunstan back in full for what he did to me, Miss Divine. Some day,” he whispered, with an undertone of such savage force that Louisa fought a shiver of fear. “You’ll see.”

Louisa’s curiosity was sharpened and she wanted to know more—there was so much he had not told her, but she was not to learn anything further about what had occurred between Sir Charles and Lord Dunstan, for at that moment James and Timothy, displeased to see her talking to Sir Charles, came to reclaim her.

Trembling but managing a smile, shaken by the brief insight Sir Charles had given her into the feud that existed between himself and Lord Dunstan, an insight that left her feeling decidedly uneasy, she watched as he politely and abruptly excused himself to Timothy and James. Her brother was coldly contemptuous of the man’s frank admiration of her. “I do not like that man, Louisa,” James muttered, scowling at Sir Charles’s receding figure as he swaggered away. “You will do well to steer clear of him in the future.”

“Yes, I intend to,” she replied absently, a memory of the cold, savage look of vengeance she had seen in Sir Charles’s eyes flickering in her mind. Their conversation had left her with a feeling of oppression and horror, and she experienced a certain surprise at his severe accusation against Lord Dunstan. Was it true? she asked herself. Had Lord Dunstan married the woman Sir Charles would have married himself? If this was the case, then surely the lady concerned would not have married Lord Dunstan had she not preferred him to Sir Charles?

But Sir Charles had revealed that the marriage had gone miserably wrong for Lord Dunstan, and with that she could only conclude—as Timothy had suggested—that it had broken down and his wife had left him for someone else. She tried to envisage what both Lord Dunstan and Sir Charles must have suffered, and yet she had a distinct feeling that Lord Dunstan’s suffering had been the greatest. She did not know enough of what had transpired between them, nor did she know either of them well enough to defend one’s conduct against the other, but having just had an insight into Sir Charles’s character, which seemed to have a tendency to evil, she had no wish to know more.

His manner, his way of speaking and his countenance she found repugnant in every degree. It had been enough to tell her that he did not possess any of the virtues that constituted a gentleman, and that he had many years of idleness and vice to atone for.

James moped about the house in a state of deep depression as Louisa began preparing herself for the unpleasant occasion of dining at Dunstan House. She managed to persuade him to put off fetching the deeds to his estate from Surrey and presenting them to Lord Dunstan to pay off his debt until the following week, in order to give her time to retrieve his IOU.

She reminded herself that if what Timothy had said was true—that Lord Dunstan attracted women like a magnet—then after her sharp rebuff at Mr Brewster’s bookshop, and seeing her with Sir Charles Meredith in St James’s Park, he might be angry and no longer interested in her.

For her plan to succeed she must make him want her—want her to such an extent that he would be prepared to agree to her terms to possess her. And as the time drew near for her to ready herself for the evening in front of her—perhaps the most important evening of her life—apprehension began to give way to panic.

She was undecided about which gown to wear, for Timothy had presented her with three to choose from, as well as several items of undergarment, telling her that his sister had been only too delighted to be of help.

He had told Amelia that Louisa had arrived in London having absent-mindedly left her finest dresses behind in Surrey, and was mortified, on finding herself invited to an important event, to discover she had nothing to wear and unwilling to go to the expense of buying something new. Amelia had been only too happy to loan her some gowns.

Louisa finally settled for one of deep crimson satin, by far the most alluring of the three. Its vivid colour and low-cut décolletage would be more in keeping with the occasion and the people she would be mixing with than the other two, which were in pastel shades and rather modest in design. She declined the wearing of even the smallest hoop to lift the dress, preferring instead to let the skirt fall softly from the waist.

At first she had balked at the thought of accepting the clothes, but realising she had no choice, if she wished to succeed with Lord Dunstan, and that she was in no position to turn charity away, she began to dress, feeling as she did so her last remnants of pride melt like the morning mist beneath the sun.

To add to the part, but without too much artifice, she applied just a little powder to her cheeks and a little salve to her lips, and, with skilful fingers, Alice helped her arrange her newly washed hair in an elaborate creation of glossy waves and curls, with three heavy ringlets dangling at the back, one of them resting on her bare shoulder.

When she was ready she surveyed her appearance in the full-length mirror and saw her radiance reflected. She barely recognised herself, feeling transformed by the gown’s magnificence, and experiencing a sensuous pleasure in its satin softness. She flushed at her image. The gown, with its elbow-length sleeves, was bold and quite dramatic and extremely daring, its firm-fitting bodice cut low, and the fullness of the skirt emphasising her tiny waist and falling in luxurious shining folds to her slippered feet. She suspected it had not belonged to Timothy’s quiet, sheltered sister at all but to another, more worldly lady of his acquaintance, of whom she would prefer to remain in ignorance. However, she would for ever hold the lady in her debt if she managed to succeed in seducing Lord Dunstan.

It was certainly not the type of gown she would normally have chosen to wear, she thought, sighing as she turned from the full-length mirror, but if she was to play a harlot she might as well look the part.

They were to travel to Dunstan House in Timothy’s carriage and on being told by Alice of its arrival she took a deep breath and left her room, her skirts sweeping the stairs as she went down. She saw both her brother and Timothy waiting for her in the hall and was fully aware of the impact her appearance would have on them. With Alice’s help she had been transformed from the pretty little country girl her brother had never troubled to look at into a striking young woman it would be difficult for anyone to keep their eyes off.

When James and Timothy saw her their eyes opened wide in sheer amazement—Timothy’s with undisguised appraisal and James’s with shocked disapproval. He was unable to believe that the beautiful, sophisticated creature descending the stairs—showing enough of her bosom as to be positively indecent, and smiling only as one of London’s social butterflies knew how to—was his sister.

“Dear Lord, Louisa!” he objected crossly. “That is hardly a suitable gown for you to wear—and I dare hardly ask where you acquired it.”

“Then I wouldn’t, if I were you—in fact,” she quipped, throwing Timothy a knowing smile of gratitude from beneath her lowered lashes, “I’m not entirely sure where it came from either, nor do I wish to know. However, if an evening at Dunstan House is to be anything like an evening at Lady Bricknell’s, then I would say it is perfect for the occasion.” She faced Timothy, making him a sweeping curtsy. “What do you think, Timothy? Will I do?”

Timothy’s brown eyes were twinkling. “You’ll do all right, Louisa. You look ravishing,” he assured her emphatically.

“Well, if you insist on accompanying Timothy and I,” said James sullenly, “you must be introduced as my sister. I cannot permit you to go on calling yourself Miss Divine. It’s quite ridiculous.”

Louisa gave him a cross look, in no mood to be bullied tonight of all nights. “Ridiculous or not, that is who I am to be if I am to enter the sort of company you keep. We will look foolish if you suddenly announce me as your sister, when only two nights ago I was someone else. And, anyway, I am not accompanying you by choice, James. I am merely coming along to make quite sure you do not dig us deeper into debt than we are already. If I see you so much as look at a card or dice table, I shall personally intervene and embarrass you to such a degree that you will not dare set foot in polite society ever again. Now, are we ready?” she said, pulling on her long gloves with a brusqueness that brooked no argument. “We don’t want to be late.”

With a few quiet grumbles James followed Timothy and his sister out to the waiting carriage. Louisa climbed inside, about to embark on a mission as dramatic and fateful as any she had undertaken before or would ever do again.

Seated across from Louisa, Timothy glanced at her, seeing that she appeared cool and collected and well schooled for what lay ahead of her, but behind her composed mask of elegance he sensed the fissures that lay deep.

Ever since Louisa had left Lord Dunstan at Mr Brewster’s bookshop, and after seeing him again in St James’s Park, she had tried not to focus her mind on him, but now she was within minutes of facing him once more her panic increased and she could hardly believe what she was about to do. His name spun through her mind with a combination of loathing and dread, and she told herself she would rather sleep with the devil than Lord Dunstan.

And yet the feelings she had experienced on the three occasions when they had met on her coming to London this time took some understanding; she had felt herself being drawn to him against her will by the compelling magnetism he seemed to radiate, and the memory of his smile and how he had looked at her, how his incredibly blue eyes had hardly left hers for a moment and the intimacy of his lazy gaze, made her tremble and heat course through her body.

She was experiencing a great deal of nervousness at the disagreeable prospect of meeting him again, and as the carriage arrived at Dunstan House nothing could calm her mounting tension. Dunstan House was one of several fine mansions in Piccadilly. Backing onto Green Park, it was set in formal flower gardens, the high walls keeping the rumble of wheels and street cries at bay.

With James in front of them Timothy took Louisa’s hand, feeling her fingers tremble. Passing through the doorway, they made their entry into the gilded interior. He bent close to her ear. “You look lovely,” he whispered reassuringly. “Are you still determined to go through with this—even though James is bound to find out? And don’t forget that anything connected with Lord Dunstan becomes instant gossip and spreads like wildfire. If you succeed, and when it’s discovered you are James’s sister, you will become the focus of a scandal. Can you cope with that?”

“I have had four years of learning to cope, Timothy,” she replied with bitter irony. “Having to deal with relentless adversity has made me strong and taught me to hold my head high. I shall not let a scandal worry me unduly if I can hold onto Bierlow Hall.”

She cast an eye over the assembled groups, knowing Lord Dunstan was present but unable to see him just then—and the prospect of seeing him, extremely conscious of the purpose of her being there, set her treacherous pulses racing. With a natural grace and a serene smile on her lips, she felt an odd sensation of unreality.

As they entered further into the large, extremely grand and impressive marble hallway, with huge polished doors opening into sumptuously furnished rooms beyond, the sheer magnitude and beauty of the house seemed overwhelming and utterly breathtaking. It shone with the brilliance of hundreds of candles. Mirrors glowed with refracted light from the crystal and diamonds strewn around the bare throats of women. An army of exquisitely attired footmen in scarlet and gold moved among the guests, bearing silver trays balancing sparkling glasses of champagne.

Breathing deeply and glancing at the assembled guests, Louisa suddenly found herself the object of dozens of pairs of eyes. It was as though she stood in a blazing light as everyone seemed to turn towards her. Every male and female, young and old, seemed to focus on her, some staring frankly while others looked at her with unconcealed curiosity. Many of the gentlemen looked with open admiration, and several of the ladies with barely concealed hostility, having already seen her at Lady Bricknell’s house two evenings earlier and perceiving her as the first really serious competition in months.

To Louisa the company appeared to be very much the same as it had been at Bricknell House. There was a sense of glamour about the gathering, yet it seemed more subdued somehow, rather than a rout. But no doubt at some time later in the evening, when the liquor reached their heads and loosened any inhibitions they might possess, the guests would sit down to cards, by which time Louisa hoped she would have accomplished her purpose and they could leave.

Suddenly her smile froze on her lips and she became oblivious to all else as her gaze became locked on a pair of exceptionally vivid blue eyes across the hall. Lord Dunstan was just emerging from a room with Lady Bricknell by his side. Without taking his eyes off Louisa, he murmured something to his companion, who followed his gaze and seemed to smile knowingly and with a good deal of satisfaction, before drifting from his side to speak to someone else—and Louisa would have been astonished to learn that Lady Bricknell’s invitations to James and Timothy to attend her supper and card parties, in the hope that eventually Louisa would appear, had borne fruit at last.

With a growing sense of alarm and a general feeling of unease, Louisa watched Lord Dunstan start towards them with long, purposeful strides, seeming to grow larger as he neared, his eyes compelling. His black suit was immaculate and without a crease in the fabric stretched across his strong shoulders, his cravat and white silk stockings dazzling white. His presence was inescapable. He overshadowed the room and his guests parted to let him pass, his eyes searching Louisa’s face, his expression one of slight amusement and something which, to Louisa’s indignation, looked very much like triumph.

Her flesh grew hot and a tremor passed through her now she was face to face with him once more. A smile of frank admiration gleamed in his eyes when he looked at her, his sternly handsome face stamped with nobility and pride, his powerful, muscular body emanating raw power and sensuality. At any other time, had any other man looked at her in the manner Lord Dunstan looked at her, she would have been extremely insulted and been tempted to slap his face. But, remembering the farce she was to play out to the bitter end, she swallowed her pride and gave him a ravishing smile, lighting her eyes with intelligence.

“I’m so glad you could come, Mr Fraser—Mr Hacket,” Alistair said, and when he spoke the sheer, concentrated power of his presence was vividly apparent. His greeting embraced all three, but his gaze rested on Louisa. “And you, too, Miss Divine,” he murmured, fascinated by her, noticing how her face captured and absorbed the soft glow of the candles.

There was a serenity of expression and stillness that hung about her like an aura, and seeing her again was an experience he had not sufficiently prepared himself for. She was beautiful, far more beautiful than any woman present, and she intrigued him, troubled him, and his instinct told him that hidden desires were at play beneath the thin layer of respectability. She was still yet watchful amidst the hive of gossip, her face settled in cool, unblinking remoteness, which distinctly whispered “Don’t touch’.

“Is it your intention to exact revenge later, Fraser—to recoup what you lost to me two nights ago?”

Unhappy and pale, James managed to smile, but there was no disguising his anxiety as he cast a swift glance at his sister, licking his lips nervously and saying, as if prompted, which did not go unnoticed by Alistair, “No, not this evening, Lord Dunstan. Tonight I intend to refrain from any form of gambling. I shall be a passive observer, nothing more.”

Lord Dunstan nodded slightly, not really surprised. If the man was as impoverished as he suspected then he could ill afford to run up any more debts. He had met a lot of men like James Fraser—reckless young fools, prepared to risk everything over a game of cards or the throw of a dice. “Very wise, sir. Very wise.”

“You—you have a beautiful house, Lord Dunstan,” remarked Louisa in an attempt to draw the conversation away from gambling.

He shifted his gaze back to her. She had the look of a girl, but he felt she was a woman in every sense of that meaningful word, and yet she seemed incredibly unsoiled. She possessed a poise and dignity that was absent in most of the women present, and she was sexually elegant and extremely desirable in her crimson dress, bearing no resemblance to the rather prim young woman he had encountered in St Paul’s Church two months earlier and more recently at Mr Brewster’s bookshop.

The moment he had looked into her eyes she had assaulted his senses and he had become determined to possess her. But who was she, he wondered, and why hadn’t he seen her before if she was Fraser’s mistress? And was she as unfamiliar to Charles Meredith as she would have him believe? After seeing them together in St James’s Park, he was beginning to doubt it.

“Thank you. It would give me great pleasure to show you around later—if you like.”

“Why—yes. I’d love to,” she replied.

He left to greet more of his guests who continued to arrive, but Louisa had the impression that his attention never left her.




Chapter Four


Louisa watched Alistair move among his guests, thinking they were like mere shadows in his orbit. Handsome and distinguished, he seemed to dominate the company, and the ladies around him gazed at him provocatively from under fluttering eyelashes and pouted their crimson lips, every one of them alluringly seductive. But his manner towards them was curiously cold, despite his smile, which puzzled Louisa. When dinner was announced he came back to them, and with a courtly gesture offered her his arm, the pull she exerted on his gaze so strong it was as if she had called his name.

“You don’t mind if I escort Miss Divine into dinner, do you, Fraser?”

“No—no,” spluttered James, unable to object even if he wanted to, experiencing the first stirrings of unease at the attentions their illustrious host was paying towards his sister. “Of course not.”

The moment Louisa placed her hand on Alistair’s arm he was surprised by the leaping, wolf-like passion of his response. Eyebrows went up and lips twisted, and sly, secret smiles were exchanged behind fluttering fans as they passed by on their way to the dining room.

“I am pleased to see you have lowered your sword, Miss Divine, and honoured Dunstan House with your presence this evening,” Alistair said, bestowing smiles to right and left as they moved towards the dining room, while keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she answered, smiling softly. “However,” she said, looking obliquely up at him from beneath her thick fringe of dark eyelashes, “my rapier may be sheathed, Lord Dunstan, but I will have you know that it is every bit as sharp and lethal as it was the other day.”

With slightly raised eyebrows he glanced down at her, his gaze and his crooked smile drenching Louisa in its sexuality and bringing an attractive flush to her cheeks.

“I do not doubt that for one moment. It will make the play between us all the more exciting. I would like to apologise for my rudeness when we met in Mr Brewster’s bookshop. Clearly you are a stranger to Lady Bricknell’s parties and may not have known the type of ladies who attend them.”

“It very soon became evident to me, and you were quick to assume I was one of them. But I must tell you that you have the wrong opinion of me, Lord Dunstan,” she said with a slight haughtiness. “I may have been at Lady Bricknell’s party, but I am no harlot.”

Alistair’s blue eyes seemed to burn down into hers. “You say that and yet you flaunt yourself in public in the company of the most notorious rake in London—a man who boasts his conquests and who is not ashamed to tell the world that no woman has ever denied him.”

“And how was I to know that?” she said, springing quickly to her own defence. “I told you that we had not met before the evening at Bricknell House. Before that night I had never heard of Sir Charles Meredith, let alone of his dubious reputation. And when you saw us together in the park it was not as it seemed. We met quite by chance—and he can be extremely persistent. If you had taken the trouble to look before so rudely walking away, you would have seen I was with Mr Fraser.”

“I have my reasons for not acknowledging Charles Meredith, Miss Divine. It was unfortunate that you were with him at the time and bore some of the brunt of my rudeness. Had you been alone it would have given me great pleasure to introduce you to my sisters, but my older sister’s abhorrence is almost as great as my own where that gentleman is concerned.”

“I see,” said Louisa, feeling curiously relieved on being told that the woman was not romantically involved with him but was his older sister, and absently surmised that the little boy she had seen belonged to her.

“But how was I to know you are cast in a different mould to the rest of the women who were at Bricknell House that night?” Lord Dunstan went on. “I went too fast in my conclusions and I apologise, but knowing nothing about you I had no reason to think otherwise, and you cannot blame me for making you an offer—even if you are apparently attached to someone else. You are an extremely attractive and desirable young woman.”

“Come, now, Lord Dunstan,” Louisa said, her voice under control—almost thoughtfully calm as she slipped into the part she had set herself. “Isn’t that what every gentleman says to a lady he’s propositioned?”

He gave a lift of one eyebrow and smiled down at her. “Wit as well as beauty,” he said softly. “I like that. Fraser’s a lucky man. No wonder he wants to keep you all to himself. My offer was turned down, as I remember—unless—you’ve reconsidered it?”

“Yes, I have,” she replied as he held her intent gaze, his own as uncompromising as she could have wished for.

“It still stands, you know,” he said, “You will want for nothing. I can be generous—as you will discover.”

“I see. Then, knowing that, I shall think about it a little more over dinner,” she said, her dimples appearing as she tilted her head to one side, smiling demurely, with eyes as warm and bright as a brightly plumaged bird, astonished at how easy it was to play the coquette.

There was no time to say more as they walked towards the table. The large dining room was lavishly decorated and adorned with huge baskets and vases of flowers. The long table, which was a delight to the eye, sparkled and shone and was laid out like a fabulous work of art. Spread with lace, it almost bowed beneath the weight of china and crystal and ornate silver. A myriad of candles flattered the complexions of the ladies—especially the older ones who were finding it increasingly difficult to camouflage the tell-tale lines of age with powder and paint. But the warm light made Louisa’s creamy skin glow, emphasising her youthful skin and giving an added warmth to her amber eyes.

The soft music of fiddles drifted in from a room beyond. Halfway down the table, Louisa was seated next to James and across from Timothy, whose attention was occupied throughout the meal by two pretty young women on either side who flirted with him outrageously, one of whom he found fascinating, with ravishing blue eyes and a mass of raven-black hair. The food was exquisite and there seemed to be gallons of wine and champagne, of which the guests imbibed far too freely, Louisa observed with distaste, their behaviour becoming louder and more uninhibited as the meal progressed.




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