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The Chaperon Bride
Nicola Cornick


Always The Chaperon And Never The Bride…At least, that's the way it was for Lady Annis Wyncherley. If this young widow was to remain as chaperon to society's misses, there could be no hint of scandal attached to her name. Rakes and romance were strictly off-limits, most especially a rogue like the handsome Lord Adam Ashwick!But that proved nearly impossible when Adam made his daughter's chaperon the subject of his relentless seduction. Adam knew any attention from him could destroy Lady Wyncherley's fine reputation. But he was powerless to control the strong desires she aroused in him. And all too soon this reformed rogue was hell-bent on convincing a very stubborn Annis to become his chaperon bride….









“Why did you kiss me?”


Annis sounded genuinely puzzled.

“Because I wanted to.” Adam shifted a little, releasing her. He felt bereft without the touch of her hand. “And also because I was afraid that if I asked you first you would say that it was inappropriate for a chaperon to be kissed. And I would like to do it again.”

“Oh, no.” Now she took several decided steps back. “I am no easy entertainment for a rake.”

“I hardly thought so, and I have told you I am no rake. I do not make a habit of kissing chaperons. In the main they are too old and unattractive.” A flash of sheer masculine triumph went through him as he saw the struggle she had with her own feelings and desires. He waited.

Determination gave Annis strength to her tone. “I have a position to maintain, my lord, and I shall not compromise it further.”



The Chaperon Bride

Harlequin Historical




Praise for Nicola Cornick’s books


Lady Allerton’s Wager

“A charming, enjoyable read.”

—Romantic Times

“Ms. Cornick has managed to pack a whole lot of mystery and humor in this highly romantic and fast-paced story and is nothing short of a pure delight to read.”

—Writers Unlimited

“The Rake’s Bride” in The Love Match

“Through vivid detail, the author firmly establishes time and place for her rollicking tug-of-war.”

—Publishers Weekly

The Virtuous Cyprian

“…this delightful tale of a masquerade gone awry will delight ardent Regency readers.”

—Romantic Times

“A witty, hilarious romp through the Regency period.”

—Rendezvous




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The Chaperon Bride










Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen




Chapter One


June 1816

The coach from Leeds drew into the yard of the Hope Inn at Harrogate in the late afternoon and disgorged a number of passengers. Although it was still quite early in the season, the spa villages of High and Low Harrogate were starting to fill up with visitors coming to take the health-giving waters and on this occasion there were seven new arrivals. First to descend was a family of four: mother, father, a boy of about sixteen and a girl a year or so older, both with smiling faces and a lively interest in what was going on around them. Next descended an elderly lady wrapped up in a vast shawl and attended by a solicitous young man who might or might not have been her nephew. The other arrival was Annis, Lady Wycherley, carrying a small leather case and dressed in practical black bombazine and an unbecoming bonnet.

Annis Wycherley was not a newcomer to Harrogate, for she had been born near the town and had spent many happy holidays there with her cousins during the times that her papa had been on leave from the navy. The late Captain Lafoy had even bought a small estate out towards Skipton, which Annis had inherited almost a decade before and visited whenever she had the opportunity. She was not in Harrogate as often as she would like, however. Her employment, as a chaperon to spoilt society misses, took her to London or Brighton or Bath, although this latter was considered rather déclassé these days, a shabby genteel place that was not popular with the fashionable crowd. Harrogate, with its romantic setting in the wilds of nowhere, its unpleasantly smelling but healthful spa waters and its rustic northern charm, was fast becoming the new Bath in the eyes of the ton.

Annis, espying her cousin Charles in the crowd thronging the inn yard, hurried across and gave him an affectionate hug. He hugged her back, then held her at arm’s length, looking her over dubiously but with a twinkle in his very blue eyes.

‘Annis, whatever have you done to yourself?’

Annis gave a little giggle. ‘Dear Charles, it is lovely to see you too! I collect that your horror stems from seeing me in my chaperon’s attire? I always dress the part, you know.’

‘It puts years on you.’ Charles gave the black bombazine a bemused look and frowned at the bonnet. ‘Lord, Annis, it’s wonderful to see you again, but I barely recognised you!’

‘You know that it is always a mistake to travel in your best clothes. You end up either mud spattered or dusty. Besides, as a professional chaperon I cannot look too elegant.’

‘No danger of that.’ Charles tried to hide his grin. ‘Was the journey good?’

‘A little precipitate,’ Annis said. ‘I suppose that is why the coach is called the Tally Ho? The driver certainly seemed to take that to heart!’

‘I would have sent the carriage to Leeds for you, you know,’ Charles said, gesturing to a smart black chaise that stood in the corner of the yard. ‘It would have been no trouble.’

‘There was no need,’ Annis said cheerfully. ‘I am accustomed to travelling on the stage.’ She waved at the family of four as the landlord escorted them inside the inn. ‘Dear Mr and Mrs Fairlie…Amelia…James…I shall hope to see you all at the Promenade Rooms before long.’

‘You make friends easily,’ Charles observed as the couple bowed and smiled in return.

‘One must beguile the long journey somehow, you know, and they were a very pleasant family. Not like that young man over there…’ Annis nodded across at the young gentleman who was helping the elderly lady up into a barouche. ‘I am sure he is after her money, Charles. If I hear that she has passed away, I shall be most suspicious!’

‘Annis!’

‘Oh, I am only joking,’ Annis said hastily, remembering belatedly that her cousin could be a bit of a high stickler. ‘Pay no attention! Now you…are you well? And Sibella?’

‘I am very well indeed.’ Charles grinned. ‘Sib is flourishing. She and David are expecting their fourth, you know.’

‘I had heard.’ Annis smiled, tucking her arm through his. ‘She has been very busy whilst you and I, Charles, have let the family down sadly! You are not even married and I only look after other peoples’ children!’

Charles laughed and patted her hand where it rested on his sleeve. ‘Plenty of time for the rest of us. But it is fortunate Sibella did not come to meet you, Annis. She would have disowned you as soon as look at you!’

‘Sibella is lucky in that she can indulge herself as a lady of fashion.’ Annis looked around for her trunks. ‘I am obliged to work for my living. Nevertheless I am grateful to you for swallowing the family pride and coming to meet me, Charles. I know I do you no credit!’

Charles laughed again. ‘It was shock, that is all. I barely recognised you in all that frumpish black. You used to be such a good-looking girl…’

Annis gave him a sharp nudge. ‘You used to be quite handsome yourself! Where did it all go wrong, Charles?’

Charles Lafoy was in fact a very good-looking man, as most of the female population of Harrogate would testify. Like his sister Sibella, he had the fair, open features of the Lafoys, the honest blue eyes and engaging smile. As lawyer to Harrogate’s most prosperous merchant, Samuel Ingram, he had a prestigious position in village society. There was no shortage of inn servants queuing up to help his groom put Annis’s luggage in the carriage. Everyone knew that Mr Lafoy always tipped most generously.

Annis Wycherley was almost as tall as her cousin, having a height unfashionable in a woman but useful in a chaperon, since it helped to assert her authority. Her eyes were hazel rather than the Lafoy blue, but she had the same rich, golden blonde hair. In Annis’s case this rarely saw the light of day, being hidden under a succession of lace caps, ugly bonnets and ragingly unfashionable turbans. She had learned early on that no one took a blonde chaperon at all seriously; it could, in fact, be positively dangerous to display her hair, for it made gentlemen behave in a most inappropriately amorous manner.

The shapeless gowns in dowager black, purple and turkey red were all designed and worn with one intention in mind—to make her look older and unattractive. This was a necessity of her profession. Just as no one would take a blonde chaperon seriously, so would nobody entrust their daughter, niece or ward to a girl who looked as though she had only just left the schoolroom herself. Annis was in fact seven and twenty and had been widowed for eight years, but she had a fair, youthful complexion, wide-spaced eyes, a snub nose and a generous mouth that all conspired to undermine the sense of gravity required by a professional chaperon. Prettiness combined with poverty had always struck her as a recipe for disaster, so she did her best to disguise those natural assets she possessed.

‘I thought that we would go straight to the house in Church Row,’ Charles said, as they made their way across to his carriage. ‘You will have the chance to settle in comfortably before Sibella calls on you this evening. When do your charges arrive?’

‘Not until Friday,’ Annis said. ‘Sir Robert Crossley is escorting the girls up from London himself and Mrs Hardcastle accompanies them as duenna in my absence. I am persuaded that she will have licked them into shape before ever they darken my door!’ She shivered a little in the breeze. ‘Gracious, Charles, I can scarce believe that it is June. The wind off the hills is as cold as ever.’

‘You have gone soft from living too long in the south,’ Charles said affectionately. ‘These charges of yours, the Misses Crossley—do they have a large fortune?’

‘Big enough to buy half of Harrogate!’ Annis said. She grimaced, remembering the interview that she had had in London with the Crossley girls before she had agreed to take them on. ‘I fear that even that will not be sufficient to sweeten the pill of Miss Fanny Crossley’s bad manners, however. The girl is as sharp as a thorn and only passably good-looking. She may well be my first failure!’

‘I doubt it.’ Charles grinned at her. ‘Even here in Harrogate we have heard of the striking success of that matchmaker par excellence, Lady Wycherley! They say that you could catch a husband for any girl, be she ugly as sin and poor as a church mouse.’

‘One or other, perhaps, but not both together!’ Annis laughed. ‘You are not hanging out for a wealthy bride, are you, Charles?’

‘Not I!’ Her cousin watched as the last bags were strapped onto the platform of the chaise. ‘I do have a client who is looking, however. Sir Everard Doble, a very worthy but rather dull man with an estate mortgaged to the hilt. We shall arrange a meeting for him with your charges.’

‘Dear Charles,’ Annis said gratefully. ‘I feel my task is already half done. And Miss Lucy Crossley, unlike her elder sister, is a sweet girl who should make a match easily enough amongst all the half-pay officers who seem to crowd the place. I do not imagine that either sister will make a dazzling match, but it should be possible to settle them creditably. So…’ Annis sighed ‘…I may get them off my hands and then spend some time at Starbeck. It was the real reason that I accepted Sir Robert’s commission to chaperon his nieces, you know. I wanted to spend some time at home.’

Charles frowned slightly. ‘Ah, Starbeck. You know that I have not been able to keep a tenant there for the last few months and that the house is in a poor state? I need to talk to you about it at some point, coz.’

Annis looked at him sharply. There was something odd in his tone, a reluctance that made her heart miss a beat, for it boded ill. The small estate of Starbeck was a drain on her limited income and she knew that Charles thought she was a sentimental fool to hold on to it. He had administered the estate for her since her father died and he had been urging her to sell for several years. The house was tumbledown and swallowed money in constant repairs, Charles had been unable to find a tenant who would stay there for any length of time, and the home farm was so poor its owners could barely scratch a living. Since Annis had no money other than what she earned plus a small annuity, it was financial nonsense to continue to support Starbeck, and yet she did not want to let it go. She had had a peripatetic childhood following her father about the country from posting to posting and travelling abroad with her parents on several occasions. Starbeck was home, the only certainty she knew, and for that reason she did not want to lose it.

‘Of course we may talk—’ she began, but broke off as a green and gold high-perch phaeton swept into the inn yard, scattering the ostlers like nervous chickens.

‘For pity’s sake!’ Charles flushed red in annoyance and skipped out of the way as the offside wheel almost ran over his foot. Annis tried not to laugh. Her cousin had always been slightly stuffy, the responsible one amongst the three of them. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that Charles was the eldest, or more likely it was because he was the only boy and as such was now head of the Lafoy family. Whatever the case, he deplored frivolity.

The phaeton was gleaming and new and contained two occupants, a lady and a gentleman. The lady, a buxom brunette, was swathed in furs. She was laughing and clutching a saucy hat on her dark curls. Her vivacious brown eyes scanned the assembled company, rested thoughtfully on Charles’s red face and dismissed Annis’s plain one, before she took her companion’s hand and jumped lightly down to join him on the cobbles of the inn yard. The landlord had emerged and was bowing enthusiastically, waving them towards the inn door.

‘Ashwick!’ Annis heard Charles say, under his breath.

She cast him a quick glance. Once again there was an odd note in Charles’s voice, one that she could not place. It was neither envy nor even disapproval, both of which might have been understandable from the country lawyer to the dashing peer of the realm. Annis knew of Lord Ashwick, of course; no one who had sponsored girls in ton society for the last three years as she had could fail to be aware of a man whose recent career consisted mainly of playing high and keeping low company. Adam Ashwick was a friend of such luminaries as the Duke of Fleet and the Earl of Tallant, who had scandalised the town with their exploits for years. Tallant was married now and had become disappointingly uxorious, but the gossips were still entertained by the activities of Sebastian Fleet and Adam Ashwick. It seemed extraordinary to find him in so out of the way a place as Harrogate.

The couple had to pass them to reach the inn door. Annis drew back against the side of the coach, having no wish to push herself forward for notice. To her surprise, however, Adam Ashwick paused in front of them and gave Charles the briefest of bows.

‘Lafoy.’ His tone was cold.

Charles’s own bow was correspondingly slight. ‘Ashwick.’

There was a silence that prickled with tension. Annis, looking from one to the other, sensed all kinds of undercurrents that she was at a loss to explain. Ashwick was watching Charles, an unpleasant smile on his lips, and Annis took the opportunity to study him whilst his attention was diverted.

At first glance, she did not consider him to be a good-looking man in the conventional sense, for his face was too swarthy, and its hard angles were too stern and uncompromising to be considered handsome. His eyes were wide set and a cool grey beneath straight black brows. Although he could only be in his early thirties, his thick, dark hair was turning silver, which added a certain distinction to his looks. He was above average height and had a sportsman’s physique, but he was dressed with what appeared to be deliberate understatement, in tight dove-grey riding breeches and a pristine black coat that made his linen seem a very pure white indeed. Instead of Hessians he was wearing a fine pair of leather riding boots with turned-down cuffs. He had the appearance of a man of action rather than the dissipated aristocrat Annis had been imagining, and he exuded latent power. Annis could feel the effect. It was different from the confidence that Charles possessed as a successful professional man; Ashwick’s authority was instinctive, unquestioned.

His cool grey gaze switched to her and Annis hastily lowered her eyes. She did not wish him to think that she had been staring. Adam Ashwick bowed again, with scrupulous courtesy this time.

‘Madam.’

‘My cousin, Annis, Lady Wycherley,’ Charles said, with such obvious unwillingness that Annis felt her lips twitch. She was not sure if Charles’s reluctance to introduce her sprang from disapproval of Ashwick’s reputation or a more personal dislike. A split second later, she realised that Adam Ashwick was also considering the reasons for Charles’s protective concern. As their eyes met he raised a quizzical brow and they were drawn into a moment of shared amusement. Annis broke the contact hastily, feeling a little disloyal.

She held out her hand politely. ‘How do you do, my lord.’

‘Your servant, Lady Wycherley.’ Adam took her hand. She felt compelled to look at him again, then wished she had not. He was studying her thoughtfully, his gaze moving over her features with deliberation. There was a definite masculine interest in that appraisal and Annis recognised it with a shock. She felt a little shiver go through her and withdrew her hand from his.

Ashwick’s beautiful companion was getting restive at the lack of attention. She pulled on his arm.

‘Are you not to introduce me, Ashy, darling?’ Her French accent was slight and very pretty. She peeked up at him under the brim of the dashing hat with the charm of a wilful child.

Ashy! Annis thought, trying not to laugh at the diminutive. She caught Ashwick’s eye again and looked quickly away, for fear that he might read her mind again. She did not seek such affinity with him.

‘Margot, may I present Annis, Lady Wycherley, and her cousin Mr Charles Lafoy?’ Ashwick sounded pleasantly indifferent now as though the moment of enmity with Charles had never occurred. The lady nodded to Annis and batted her eyelashes at Charles in exaggerated fashion. Annis felt slightly amused and rather more irritated. The whole inn yard seemed to have stopped in order to stare at the Beauty and Annis wondered, as she had on many previous occasions, just why people were always drawn to the obvious. She had lost count of the times that débutantes with charm and fine looks were overlooked when something flashier came along. It was the same here. The ostlers were gaping, the other travellers were staring in admiration and some of the guests were even peering from the inn window to admire Ashwick’s fair companion.

‘I am Margot Mardyn,’ the lady said, with the air of one making an important announcement. ‘You have heard of me, non?’

‘Of course,’ Annis said hastily, as Charles looked blank. ‘I hear that we are will be privileged to have you perform at the Theatre Royal this summer season, Miss Mardyn. My cousin and I shall be sure to attend.’

Margot Mardyn nodded, whilst smiling bewitchingly at Charles. ‘I shall hope to see you after the show,’ she said graciously to him.

She squeezed Ashwick’s arm. ‘Viens, Ashy, I am cold. This “north” of yours is a shockingly barbaric place. Why, do you know…’ she turned back to Charles confidingly ‘…at some of the inns along the way we were obliged to drink in the common tap? Alors! Along with all the hoi polloi! Come along, Ashy!’

Annis looked at Lord Ashwick and was taken aback to see that he was still watching her. He inclined his head and gave her a faint smile, which Annis found even more disturbing. She fidgeted with the seam of her gloves and hoped that her colour had not risen. Famously impervious to the good looks of eligible young gentlemen, she found it very odd that she should be drawn in this curious manner to a man whose style of life was so far removed from her own. Yet she could not deny it; the air between them was sharp with awareness. It was extremely disconcerting.

‘I shall look forward to meeting you again, Lady Wycherley,’ Ashwick said politely. ‘I hope that you enjoy your stay in Harrogate.’

‘Who was that?’ Charles asked in a bemused tone as Ashwick steered his fair companion through the inn door and the excitement in the yard subsided. Annis, observing the rapt expression on his face as he watched Miss Mardyn’s departure, sighed to herself.

‘That was Lord Ashwick,’ she said drily. ‘I collect that you are acquainted with him?’

‘Of course I know Ashwick.’ Charles turned to her impatiently. ‘His family have owned property around here for hundreds of years.’

‘Of course.’ Annis remembered this herself now. The Ashwicks had been part of the long and turbulent history of the Yorkshire moors for centuries, from the time that the first baron had served at the court of Charles II and had been given an estate in the back of beyond for his pains. Presumably Lord Ashwick was in Yorkshire to visit that very estate. Annis found herself wondering if she would see him again.

Charles was still looking over his shoulder in the direction that the couple had gone.

‘Annis? Are your wits wandering? I meant the lady—’

‘Ah, the lovely Miss Mardyn. She is a dancer and singer who has recently graced the stage at Drury Lane.’ Annis looked at him sardonically. ‘Charles, I should be obliged if you would help me up into the carriage. We have been standing here these ten minutes past and, as Miss Mardyn so succinctly observed, it is rather chilly.’

She waited until they were settled back on the fat red squabs of the Lafoy carriage, then added, ‘I heard on the journey up that Miss Mardyn is to entertain us with Harlequin’s Metamorphoses, Escapes and Leaps. Mr Fairlie was telling me about it and he was most excited. I believe the show will sell out, so you had better hurry to get your ticket.’

‘That…child, a dancer?’ Charles’s mouth seemed permanently propped open. ‘She cannot be above seventeen, surely?’

‘Thirty-five if she’s a day,’ Annis said cheerfully, reflecting ruefully that men were always distracted by a pretty face and could never see what was under their nose, ‘and hailing from the Portsmouth Docks rather than Paris, I hear.’

Charles looked appalled and fascinated all at the same time. ‘Good God! And her connection with Ashwick?’

Annis gave him a speaking look.

‘Oh!’ Charles said.

‘Well, it is entirely possible that Lord Ashwick was escorting Miss Mardyn as a favour for a friend,’ Annis said fairly. ‘When I left London the on dit was that she was the Duke of Fleet’s inamorata. Who would have thought that such a bird of paradise would alight in Harrogate, of all places?’

‘You are very free in your conversation, Annis,’ Charles said, his mouth turning down at the corners. ‘It must be the effect of London living. I hope you do not encourage your charges to listen to gossip.’

Annis laughed aloud. ‘I am sorry if I offend your sensibilities, Charles. I had no idea you had turned into such a puritan!’

The coach trundled out of the inn yard and turned on to Silver Street. It was only a step to the house that Charles had hired for Annis in Church Row, but with her trunks it had clearly been impractical to walk. Annis leaned forward to look out of the window at the open ground of The Stray, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight.

‘Oh it is quite delightful to be back! I do believe the last time was two years ago, and a flying visit at that. Tell me, Charles—’ she turned back to look at him thoughtfully ‘—what is the nature of your quarrel with Lord Ashwick? I was not aware that the two of you knew each other.’

Charles shifted uncomfortably. ‘I met him last year when his brother-in-law died. It is a little difficult, Annis.’ Charles sighed. ‘The late Lord Tilney, Ashwick’s brother-in-law, was involved in a business scheme with Mr Ingram, but it failed and Ingram bought all his debts. When he died, Humphrey Tilney owed Ingram a deal of money. Ashwick agreed to pay the debt to save his sister from penury. The situation caused some difficulties.’

Annis raised her brows. Samuel Ingram, Charles’s most powerful client, was a man who rode roughshod over all those who opposed his business dealings. She could imagine a nobleman of Lord Ashwick’s calibre deeply resenting being in debt to such a man.

‘What was this business venture?’

Charles looked gloomy. ‘You probably remember it. It was in all the newspapers. Ingram and Humphrey Tilney were joint owners of the Northern Prince, the ship that went down carrying goods and money to the colonies eighteen months ago. There was the devil of a fuss.’

‘I imagine there would be.’ Annis frowned. ‘Was there not a fortune in gold on the ship?’

‘That is correct, and banknotes and silver and God alone knows what other valuables in addition.’

‘Surely it was insured?’

Charles shifted uncomfortably. ‘Yes, but Humphrey Tilney had overreached himself financially to fund his part in the enterprise in the first place. Under normal circumstances he might have recouped his losses within a couple of years but, as it was, he ended thirty thousand in debt. Ingram bought his debts up to help him rather than let him fall ever deeper into the hands of the moneylenders.’

‘How charitable of him,’ Annis said drily, thinking that a man such as Samuel Ingram seldom did anything out of the goodness of his heart.

Charles frowned to hear the note in her voice. ‘See here, Annis, Ingram charged a very reasonable rate of interest—’

‘And you wonder at Lord Ashwick resenting the fact!’ Annis said, even more drily.

Charles subsided like a pricked balloon. ‘That is the way that business works…’

‘I dare say. I suppose there was no doubt that the ship actually went down? Ingram has not compounded his sins by defrauding the insurers?’

Charles looked horrified. ‘Devil take it, Annis, of course not! Of course the ship went down! For pity’s sake, do not go around saying such things in public!’

Annis was startled at his vehemence. ‘Very well, Charles, there is no need to roast me for it! I only asked the question. Speaking of Ingram, I read in the Leeds Mercury that there had been a fire at his farm at Shawes. Is foul play suspected?’

Charles gave her a very sharp look. ‘Not at all. Why do you ask?’

Annis gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘No need to pretend to me, Charles! I know that Mr Ingram is not popular hereabouts. I have read all about the arson and the threats to his property.’

Charles looked shifty. ‘Yes, well, I will concede there has been a little local difficulty over the enclosure of the Shawes common, and there has been some discussion about rents this year—’

‘You sound like a lawyer!’ Annis said with a sigh.

‘Well, so I am. And Mr Ingram’s lawyer at that. It is my place to be dispassionate.’

‘I would have thought that Mr Ingram would see it as your place to support him,’ Annis said drily. ‘That is what he pays you for.’

Charles blushed an angry red. ‘See here, Annis, must you be so blunt? I’m astounded you ever find a match for those girls of yours if you are as outspoken with their suitors as you are with me!’

‘Fortunately the gentlemen are marrying the girls and not me,’ Annis said cheerfully. ‘I do not seek to marry again, as you know, Charles.’

‘Can’t think why not. At least you would not need to work then.’

‘Thank you, but I prefer to be independent. You know I dislike to be idle. Besides, I found that the married state did not suit me.’

‘Not surprised if you spoke to John as plainly as you do to me!’

Annis locked her gloved hands together and looked pointedly out of the window. It was no secret that she and her elderly husband had been unhappy together, but even after eight years of widowhood the memory caused an ache.

‘Sorry, Annis.’ Charles sounded remorseful. ‘I did not mean to offend you.’

‘It is no matter, Charles.’ Annis spoke briskly. ‘You know that John had decided opinions about women and their place. Now that I am no longer required to respect those views, I fear I have become quite outspoken.’

‘I suppose there are some men who like their wives to read the newspaper and have decided opinions,’ Charles said dubiously.

‘Are there? I have never met any of them.’ Annis smiled. ‘So perhaps it is fortunate that I do not look to marry.’

The carriage slowed before a grey stone house with neat sash windows, then turned through a small archway into a cobbled yard with stables along one side.

‘There is a walled garden at the back,’ Charles said eagerly, ‘and I have engaged a couple of servants for you. You indicated that Mrs Hardcastle was to be housekeeper, so I imagine that she will wish to have the ordering of the household affairs once she arrives.’

‘Of course. Hardy will soon have everything organised.’ Annis looked about her with approval. ‘You seem to have done us proud, Charles.’

‘There is a drawing-room and walk-in cupboards in the bedrooms,’ Charles offered, still trying to make amends for his earlier insensitivity. ‘It is all very modern. I am sure that it is just what you require, Annis.’

‘Thank you.’ Annis took his hand as she descended from the coach. ‘There is a most pleasant aspect to the front.’

‘And the shops are not far away.’

‘I assume that it is a quiet neighbourhood and one suitable for the Misses Crossley? No undesirable alehouses or rowdy neighbours? I would not wish my charges to be subject to unsuitable influences.’

Charles had opened his mouth to reply when there was a loud tally-ho from the road and a green and gold phaeton shot past, its occupants shrieking with laughter. It turned neatly through the archway of the house behind. Annis raised her eyebrows.

‘My new neighbours, I presume?’

‘Oh, dear,’ Charles said unhappily.



‘Ashy dearest,’ Margot Mardyn said sweetly, draping herself over the arm of Adam Ashwick’s chair, ‘whatever would your mama say if she knew that you had brought me here?’

Adam glanced up briefly from the York Herald. The diva’s cleavage was inclining tantalisingly close to his nose. It was plush and pink, and smelled cloyingly of roses. Adam looked thoughtfully at it, then returned to his paper.

‘Margot, my sweet, do go and sit down. You are blocking my light. I am sure that Tranter will be in with the tea in a moment.’

Miss Mardyn flounced away to lay herself seductively along the sofa. ‘Ashy…’ her voice fell several octaves ‘…you have not answered my question.’

Adam sighed and laid his newspaper aside. He knew there was not the least chance of him finishing the item until Miss Mardyn had partaken of tea and been delivered to her palatial suite of rooms at the Granby Hotel. His original intention to deliver her directly there had been thwarted when one of his horses had thrown a shoe, necessitating the stop at the Hope Inn. After that, Margot had insisted that nothing but tea in Church Row would soothe her ruffled sensibilities.

‘I am persuaded that Mama would be delighted to find you here, Margot,’ he said. ‘She will be quite cast down to have been out of town.’

‘But now that we are here,’ Miss Mardyn purred, with a soft fluttering of her lashes, ‘we might find a pleasant way to pass the time, Ashy…’

Adam raised his brows. ‘Indeed we might, sweet. We could talk, and take tea and even…’ he smiled at her ‘…plan a trip to Knaresborough!’

Miss Mardyn scowled unbecomingly. She did not take kindly to teasing.

‘I had something so much more exciting in mind, Ashy!’

‘Did you?’ Adam murmured. ‘I doubt that Seb would appreciate it, my love, if I took you up on that offer!’

‘Sebastian will never know,’ the diva replied. She sparkled at him. ‘Please, Ashy. I am most curious. I beg you to indulge me. Lydia Trent says that you were magnifique—a stallion, en effet!’

‘I am indebted to Miss Trent for her enthusiastic description,’ Adam drawled. ‘Alas, the answer is still no, my sweet. Sebastian Fleet might not know, but I would know that I had betrayed his friendship!’

‘You men and your honour!’ scoffed Miss Mardyn. ‘Am I not worth it, Ashy?’

The answer, Adam reflected, was a decided ‘no’ but even he, renowned as he was for plain speaking, could hardly be so unchivalrous as to say so. He had been widowed for nine years and during those years he had sampled the favours of quite a few opera singers, actresses and dancers like Miss Trent, with the addition of several bored society ladies as well. Even so, he felt he could scarcely lay claim to the title of rake, for all that others awarded it to him. Despite Miss Trent’s extravagant praise, sexual conquest was not even an activity that particularly interested him. There was something deplorably mechanical about the amorous liaisons of many of the ton, whereas he, having once experienced true love, was at heart a real romantic.

Six months before, the past had finally and unexpectedly caught up with him and put paid to any rakish tendencies for good. They had taken dinner at Joss Tallant’s house that night, he, Seb Fleet and a number of other friends. Gradually the others had drifted away to the clubs and balls, leaving Joss and he partaking of a malt whisky and talking over times past and the time to come. At some point, late in the evening, Amy Tallant had come in, kissed her husband goodnight and warned him not to be too late to bed. From the look in Joss’s eye, Adam had guessed that it would not be long at all until he was politely ejected from the house and Joss went hot foot to join his wife. And that was when it had happened. Adam had felt the most sudden and shocking jolt of jealousy and misery go through him like a sword thrust. It was not that he envied Joss his wife, serene and charming though Amy was. It was that for the first time in years he remembered the warmth and intimacy and pure pleasure of marriage, and he felt sick to think that he had had it and lost it all.

Joss had seen the stunned look in his eyes and, old friend that he was, had challenged him on it. They had ended up talking until the morning and finishing the bottle of whisky between them. Adam had sent Amy a huge bunch of flowers the following day with his apologies for keeping her husband from her side. But the ache of loss had not been alleviated and Adam knew he would never find what he was looking for in the scented bordellos of Covent Garden. He would not even try. The favours of Margot Mardyn, so eagerly sought by so many men, were not for him.

Miss Mardyn was aware that his attention had slipped from her. She wafted over to the window and stood twitching the drapes and peering out inquisitively.

‘Alors, Ashy, it is that so-proper Englishman we met at the inn! I do so adore men like that—so prim, so correct. It makes me want to tear off all their clothes and shock them to the core!’

‘I am sure that Lafoy would be delighted were you to do that to him,’ Adam rejoined drily. ‘Do leave that curtain twitching alone, my love. It is so bourgeois!’

But Miss Mardyn was enjoying herself too much to obey him. ‘I do believe they must be your neighbours, Ashy. Oh, do come and look! The freakish cousin is with him. Have you ever seen anything so ugly as that bonnet?’

Adam felt a rush of irritation that had nothing to do with Miss Mardyn’s constant chatter. Why he should feel so protective of Charles Lafoy’s cousin he had no notion, but protective he was. When he had first seen Annis Wycherley at the inn he had thought her a drab creature of that class that were instantly recognisable as governesses and schoolmistresses, frumpish, proper, and dull. Then, when their eyes had met and he had seen the decided twinkle in hers, he had realised his mistake. He had watched her during the conversation and seen her covert amusement at both Margot’s affectations and Lafoy’s discomfort. It argued a certain sophistication of mind that intrigued him, hidden as it was behind the chaperon’s dull exterior. Yet she had also seemed an innocent, so much so that she was not quite able to hide the fact that she was not indifferent to him. It had charmed him—and he had wanted to see her again.

He could see her now, walking under the fruit trees at the bottom of the garden. The garden of his own house sloped down from the terrace to a narrow lane and the wall of the neighbouring garden backed on to it. Under normal circumstance it was not an arrangement that would have met with his approval. He was a man who guarded his privacy jealously, and the Harrogate town houses were too close together to suit him. He preferred his estate at Eynhallow—remote, unspoilt and not overlooked.

Adam watched as Charles Lafoy gave his cousin his hand to help her back on to the path. He disliked Lafoy intensely for his part in helping Samuel Ingram fleece his brother-in-law. Whilst he was able to accept that the sinking of the Northern Prince was nothing more than devilish bad luck, Adam still bitterly resented that Ingram had persuaded Humphrey into a partnership in the first place. Humphrey Tilney had been a weak man, easily led by the thought of making a fortune. Instead he had ended up losing one and bequeathing to his wife the uncomfortable role of Ingram’s debtor.

When Humphrey had died the previous year and Adam had discovered the extent of his debts, he had felt honour-bound to pay them off and rescue his sister from ignominy. It had been a humiliating and infuriating episode. Ingram made no secret of his amusement at the deal and Adam hated him for it.

He could hardly blame Lady Wycherley for her cousin’s sins, however. Finding out that she was a neighbour leant a curious attraction to what would otherwise have been a dull stay in Harrogate. Adam had originally intended only a short visit to his nearby estate at Eynhallow, but now he thought he might stay a little longer and find out about Annis Wycherley as well. It might prove interesting.

‘Look!’ La Mardyn was pointing at Annis now. ‘What a shocking frump! I shudder, darling, positively shudder, to think that there are women like that in the world!’

‘You are such a cat, Margot,’ Adam said lazily. He smiled to himself as he saw that his fair companion was not sure whether to laugh or pout at his unflattering assessment of her character. Eventually she pouted.

‘And you are so cruel, Ashy. I do believe that you are the rudest man in London.’

‘Nonsense! There are plenty with manners far worse than mine. I merely speak as I find.’

‘Then pray do not speak at all.’ Miss Mardyn turned her shoulder. ‘Or, if you must, tell me what you truly think of Lady Wycherley and her ugly bonnet.’

Adam sighed. He could see Annis walking slowly up the path and chatting to her cousin as she went. Certainly the black bombazine dress was unflattering, one might almost say disfiguring. It seemed to weigh her down and take the colour from her, leaving her drab and pale. On the other hand, he noticed that she had a slender figure that swayed with unconscious elegance as she walked. As for the offending bonnet, it was fit only for destruction.

As he watched, Lady Wycherley loosened the ribbons of the bonnet and, with one impatient gesture, flung it away from her. It bowled across the grass and came to rest under one of the trees, and Annis Wycherley laughed. Adam heard her. The late afternoon sunlight fell on her face, upturned to that of her cousin. She looked young and free and happy.

‘Well, bless me,’ Miss Mardyn said, forgetting her accent for once and sounding both older and irredeemably English, ‘look at her hair!’

Adam looked again. Then he stopped. And stared. Loose from the bonnet, Annis Wycherley’s long, blonde hair had come cascading down around her shoulders in a tumble of gold. It shone in the sun like a newly minted coin and framed a heart-shaped face that suddenly looked piquant and pretty.

‘I’ll be damned!’ Adam found that he was smiling. ‘What do you say now, Margot?’

‘Why, I think that she must be an even greater fool to hide such beauty,’ Miss Mardyn said acerbically. She had recovered her poise and now flounced away from the window. ‘Such a thing is incroyable! She would make a passable courtesan with hair like that and a good figure. Not as attractive as me, perhaps, but all the same…’

‘I rather think she disguises herself because she is a chaperon,’ Adam said. He had never met Annis Wycherley in London, but he remembered quite well that she had a reputation for being able to settle even the most unpromising of girls. Now he could see that she had quite a lot of promise herself. ‘No one is going to employ her as a companion if she outshines her charges!’

Miss Mardyn looked uncomprehending. ‘Eh bien, why be a chaperon if one can be a cyprian? I do not understand that, me!’

‘No,’ Adam murmured. ‘I do not suppose that you do.’

He watched Annis Wycherley for a moment, then strolled back to his chair and picked up the paper again as Tranter, the butler, came into the room, accompanied by a footman with the tea tray. There was an item about Samuel Ingram buying the lease to the local turnpike and building new tollhouses on the Skipton road. One of them would be near Eynhallow…

‘What do you think of the current state of the turnpike trusts, my dear?’ he asked Miss Mardyn, as the teacups were handed around.

Miss Mardyn bent a charming smile on the dazzled butler, then turned back to her host. ‘I have no opinion on it, Ashy darling. You should know better than to ask me. Politics, economics…pah! The whole business bores me. I never read the papers.’ She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘If I had realised that you were turning into such a dead bore yourself, I should have agreed to play Cheltenham rather than Harrogate this summer. I hear the shops are better!’

Adam smiled. ‘I do apologise for being such poor company, my dear. Perhaps you will find other gentlemen who please you more. Mr Lafoy, for example.’

La Mardyn dismissed Charles Lafoy with a wave of one white hand. ‘Oh, the conquest would be fun, but after that is over…pouf…I expect he is as dull as ditchwater. Are there no other eligible gentlemen in Harrogate, Ashy? I must amuse myself.’

‘I see that the Earl and Countess of Glasgow are here to take the waters this season,’ Adam said, consulting the paper, ‘though I fear the Earl may be a little infirm for you, Margot, and not very plump in the pocket to compensate. There is Lord Boyles—Boyles by name and by nature, I believe, so again, a gloomy prospect. Ah! Sir Everard Doble. He is a young man, and not ill favoured, if memory serves me. He might be a possibility.’

‘Sir Everard Doble…’ Miss Mardyn repeated. ‘Well, we shall see, Ashy. And how will you amuse yourself?’

Adam’s gaze fell on the paper again. ‘Oh, I have plenty to occupy me, Margot. Estate business will keep me quite busy, I fear…’

From the garden came the sound of feminine laughter, spontaneous and infectious. Adam’s gaze narrowed. He resolved that he would definitely find out more about Annis Wycherley. She seemed a most uncommon chaperon.

‘That sounds lamentably boring, darling,’ Margot Mardyn said, yawning widely.

‘On the contrary,’ Adam said, with a smile. ‘I have the feeling that my stay could be very interesting indeed.’




Chapter Two


Tickets for Miss Mardyn’s performance proved to be the most sought-after items in Harrogate, and it was a whole fortnight before Charles Lafoy could book a box at the Theatre Royal. Thus it was that, on a Thursday evening two weeks later, Annis sat in the theatre and reflected that acting as chaperon to two high-spirited girls at the same time was utterly exhausting. The Misses Crossley had taken to Harrogate society like ducks to water, and every day had been packed with outings and every evening with parties and entertainments. Indeed, a trip to the theatre was a rare luxury, for it allowed Annis to keep an eye on both girls at once and sit down at the same time. On this particular evening she was further blessed, for she had the pleasure of her family’s company as well. Charles, Sibella and Sibella’s husband David had all accompanied them to the theatre that night.

‘That was very…entertaining, was it not?’ she said, joining in the applause as Margot Mardyn executed her final spin and ran gracefully from the stage. ‘Miss Mardyn is really quite talented.’

Annis caught her cousin Sibella’s gaze. Sibella was an indolent blonde who had been an accredited beauty in her youth and still had the fair Lafoy looks, blurring a little into comfortable plumpness now. Sibella glanced towards the men and rolled her eyes expressively.

‘I hear that dancing is the least of Miss Mardyn’s talents!’ she said.

Annis laughed. The sight of the shapely Miss Mardyn in her gauzy finery had transfixed the male members of the audience. Miss Mardyn might not be a particularly skilful dancer or indeed an above average singer, but no one in the audience cared a whit for that, Annis thought. Harrogate had never seen anything quite like her and the whole auditorium was buzzing with excitement. Annis could not help wondering whether it had been a suitable entertainment for the Misses Crossley. Perhaps the more provocative of Miss Mardyn’s dance movements had passed them by. She hoped so.

She consulted her theatre programme. ‘I see that there is an interval now. Would you care to stretch your legs, girls?’

‘No, thank you, Lady Wycherley,’ Fanny Crossley said pertly. ‘Lucy and I shall do very well where we are. We are…admiring these country fashions…’

The two girls dissolved into giggles and Annis sighed inwardly. She knew perfectly well that the Crossley girls were hanging over the edge of the box so that they could assess all the young gentlemen in the audience and be admired in return. Miss Fanny, attired in a fussy dress of yellow silk that Annis privately thought much too old for her, was making waspish observations. Miss Lucy was agreeing eagerly. Miss Crossley and her echo, Annis thought. There was no malice in Lucy Crossley, for her elder sister had enough for two, but Lucy did so like to agree with everyone.

‘Look at that strange gentleman there, Luce—’ Miss Crossley was pointing with her fan into the pit. ‘Why, he is as scruffy as a scarecrow and I do believe the candle wax has dripped on his bald head! How absurd he looks!’ She stifled a giggle.

‘Quite absurd,’ Lucy echoed dutifully.

‘That is the Marquis of Midlothian,’ Annis said. ‘He is a most highly respected gentleman.’

During the first two weeks of the Miss Crossleys’ visit, when Annis had been getting their measure, she had corrected Fanny’s bad manners and barbed remarks. Now, in the third week, she had realised that there was little point in trying to improve the elder Miss Crossley. Fanny was vulgar through and through, and, unlike her sister, was disinclined to accept guidance. Indeed, any attempt to improve Fanny’s behaviour often had the reverse effect, for she was like a wilful small child. As a result, Annis often held her tongue and concentrated instead on the large sum of money that Sir Robert Crossley was paying her to chaperon his tiresome niece. She simply hoped that she would not be tempted to strangle the goose that laid the golden eggs before the egg actually materialised.

‘A marquis!’ Fanny looked put out, then brightened. ‘Oh, but as it is an Irish title one cannot be surprised that he looks all to pieces. I hear the Irish aristocracy are a ramshackle bunch.’

‘They may well be,’ Annis said, ‘but Midlothian is a Scottish title.’

Fanny turned her shoulder to Annis and leaned towards Lucy again. ‘Look at the shocking quiz in that purple feathered turban,’ she said, in a stage whisper. ‘I do declare she is the greatest frump in creation!’

Since Annis herself was wearing dowager purple and a turban that night, it was easy to see at whom Fanny’s shaft was aimed. Lucy flushed an embarrassed pink, cast Annis an agonised look and muttered something unintelligible. Annis smiled at her reassuringly. It took more than a few malicious words from a slip of a girl to discompose her. Lucy was more upset than she was.

Annis turned her attention to the crowds milling in the pit and aisles. Everybody who was anybody took a box, of course, but during the intervals they all went for a stroll and greeted their acquaintances. Some even went out onto the green in front of the theatre to get a breath of fresh air, for on a hot summer night the temperature inside could become stifling. The general scene in the auditorium was one of immense, cheerful disarray now. Gentlemen were leaning over the green rails of the gallery and accosting their friends below. Ladies preened and fluttered their fans. Annis, watching, felt a warm pleasure to be back home.

‘I see that the Ashwicks have taken a box tonight,’ Sibella said, leaning forward to speak in Annis’s ear. ‘It has been so awkward this year past, Annis, for although Lord Ashwick had mostly been in London, the rest of the family have stayed at Eynhallow and frequently come to Harrogate. I have scarcely known what to say to them, for it is such a small town one cannot avoid one’s acquaintance. Yet everyone knows of the difficulties between the Ashwicks and Mr Ingram, and I have felt so uncomfortable because of Charles’s involvement…’ Her voice trailed away and she looked unhappily at Charles, who was chatting in an undertone to David at the back of the box.

Annis patted her hand comfortingly. Sibella, like Lucy Crossley, wished everyone to be happy, but sometimes it was simply not possible.

‘Charles has a job to do—’

‘I know.’ Sibella gripped her hand. ‘I know he does not have the funds to do anything but work for a living. Neither of us inherited anything from our father. Yet I do not like Charles’s job, Annis. Particularly when it obliges me to be polite to Samuel Ingram and his wife! Speaking of which, I do believe that they are coming this way…’

Annis followed her gaze. It was many years since she had met Samuel Ingram, but he looked very much the same. He was a tall man, stout and with the prosperous air of consequence of the self-made merchant. His waistcoat was just a little too ornate with its gold embroidery and a large signet ring shone on his right hand. Beside him, Venetia Ingram glowed like a rare jewel. Annis watched as Ingram solicitously escorted his wife through the crowd, a hand in the small of her back. He shone with pride, like a preening turkey cock. There were those who said that Ingram’s only weakness was his young wife. When it came to the fair sex, Annis knew that there was no fool like an old fool, for she had taken advantage of that fact herself, when finding suitors for some of her charges.

‘Who is that lady over there, with the old man?’ Fanny Crossley said, and in her voice Annis heard all the cruelty and envy of youth. ‘She is so very beautiful…’

‘That is Mrs Ingram,’ Sibella said. She caught Annis’s eye and grimaced. ‘Mr Ingram is not so very old, Miss Crossley—’

‘I expect that he must be rich, to be married to such an incomparable,’ Lucy Crossley said wisely, and Annis sighed. She could not rebuke Lucy for so accurate an observation. Money marrying beauty was, after all, the way of the world in much the same way as money married a title.

‘Come along now, girls,’ Sibella said, with surprising firmness. ‘It will do you good to have a little exercise. Did you not know that if you sit still all the time you will become fat and then what will the gentlemen think of you? We shall go down into the foyer for a few minutes. David, if you would be so good as to give me your arm, you may take Miss Lucy on your other side. Charles, I know you would be delighted to escort Miss Crossley.’

Annis threw her a grateful look. Sibella was indolent to a fault, but she was kind-hearted and she was also sensitive. Sibella knew that Annis found the Crossley girls very tiresome at times, but she had put herself out to take the girls out shopping and introduce them to other young ladies and chaperons who might share the burden a little. Annis had been extremely touched by her cousin’s kindness for she knew that given a choice, neither Charles nor Sibella would have come near the Crossleys girls with a barge pole. Unfortunately, she herself could not be so choosy. Her livelihood depended on chaperoning the nieces, wards and daughters of cits and minor gentry and she counted herself fortunate that most of them, unlike Fanny Crossley, were pleasant company.

‘Luce, it is Lieutenant Greaves and Lieutenant Norwood!’ Fanny, having espied some red-coated gentlemen in the gallery, turned to grab her sister’s hand. ‘You remember—we met them yesterday at the Promenade Rooms!’ She frowned slightly. ‘I do hope they have not taken seats in the upper gallery. They only cost a shilling each!’

‘Lieutenant Norwood!’ Lucy’s face was suddenly poppy red. ‘Oh, let us go down. Quickly! We shall miss them else!’

The two girls scampered out of the box like a couple of puppies and Sibella subsided into her seat again. ‘You shall never teach those girls how to go on, Annis,’ she said, watching as the Crossley sisters rushed out into the pit and waved energetically at the gentlemen in the gallery. ‘Miss Lucy has possibilities, but is led astray by that hoyden of a sister, and as for Miss Fanny, the best thing you can do is to promote the Doble match as quickly as possible and get rid of her. How does it progress?’

‘Quite well, I think,’ Annis said. She had been disappointed that Sir Everard Doble had not been able to join them at the theatre that night, for his courtship of Fanny was advancing, based on the need for a fortune on his part and the desire for a title on Fanny’s.

‘The problem with Fanny is that I fear she may go off at a tangent at any moment and ruin the whole plan. If she sees someone she likes better…’ Annis looked over at the officers, who were strolling down from the gallery to greet the girls. ‘Lieutenant Greaves looks very dashing in his regimentals, I know, but he has not two pennies to rub together and is a sadly unsteady character into the bargain. It is a shame that he is such a great friend to Barnaby Norwood, for I wish to encourage the one and discourage the other! Lieutenant Norwood has taken quite a fancy to Lucy, I think.’ She started to her feet. ‘You know, Sib, I had better go down and keep an eye on things. I do not trust Fanny at all.’

‘I will go,’ Sibella said resignedly, struggling up again. ‘Come, David, you may escort me down and content yourself with the thought that you are doing Annis a splendid favour. You might as well come too, Charles, in case we need the extra authority!’

Once left on her own, Annis sat back and closed her eyes. She let the hum of the crowd wash over her. Normally she enjoyed the theatre, but tonight there were too many other things going on. She had the feeling that if she gave Fanny an inch, the little hoyden would take a mile.

She opened her eyes abruptly, feeling a prickle of awareness, a sudden conviction that someone was watching her. The crowd in the theatre was dissipating a little now and Annis caught a glimpse of Charles, talking to someone behind one of the tall ornamental pilasters. His companion moved slightly, and Annis saw that it was Della Tilney, Adam Ashwick’s sister, a vivacious, dark-haired beauty who always looked supremely elegant. Annis frowned slightly. It seemed curious that Charles and Lady Tilney should be on such good terms when he worked for Ingram and she was the widow of the man Ingram had ruined…

A second later she forgot all about Della Tilney when she realised that Adam Ashwick was looking directly at her. He was leaning against a nearby pillar and he did not look away as she caught his gaze. Annis saw him incline his head slightly to acknowledge her then start moving towards her, cutting a path through the crowd with an easy authority. He did not take his eyes off her the whole time.

Annis felt a little flustered. She did not understand why Adam Ashwick should have this effect on her and it only made her more disturbed that he should do so. She fidgeted with her fan, smoothed her skirt and looked away in an attempt to calm herself, hoping that Lord Ashwick might in fact have some other destination in mind. Sibella and David had joined Fanny and Lieutenant Greaves now, breaking up their cosy tête-à-tête whilst leaving Lucy and Barnaby Norwood together. Annis smiled her appreciation at Sibella’s tactics.

‘And serve you right, you little minx!’ she said aloud.

‘Good evening, Lady Wycherley.’ Adam Ashwick’s voice came from behind her, smooth and betraying a hint of amusement. Annis jumped and spun around in her chair. So he had been intending to seek her out. The thought made her go quite hot all over.

‘Lord Ashwick. How do you do?’ She forced a polite smile. ‘I do apologise. I was not…I did not…I was not addressing you.’

‘I guessed as much.’ There was a glimmer of a smile in Adam Ashwick’s eyes. He gestured to the chair beside her. ‘May I?’

‘Oh, of course!’

Annis had assumed that he would not be staying and now felt surprise and another emotion she could not quite place. She did not look to be distinguished by Adam Ashwick’s attention and to be so set her a little on edge. It was something to do with the speculative interest she saw in his eyes, an interest he made no effort to hide. When they had met at the inn she had felt a curious tug of affinity with him and it was the last thing that she had expected or wanted. She was accustomed to living without male companionship and after an unhappy early marriage had no intention of changing that state. Yet it was disconcerting that, for all her seven-and-twenty years and her relative experience, there was a man who could disturb her equilibrium.

‘I hope that you are enjoying your return to Harrogate, Lady Wycherley,’ Adam said lazily. ‘I understand that it is several years since you were here?’

‘Indeed it is, my lord.’ Annis smiled. ‘I shall always think of this as my home even though I have spent so much time away. It is pleasant to be back here. Do you find it so?’

Adam smiled back. ‘I find Harrogate enjoyable enough for a short space of time.’

Although they were talking quite conventionally, Annis was acutely aware that Adam was watching her intently. It was as though he was making the first moves in a game—a game he showed all the signs of pursuing. Annis caught her breath at the thought.

She raised her brows coolly, determined that his appraisal should not discomfort her. ‘You do not appreciate the Yorkshire countryside, my lord?’

‘Oh, the countryside is extremely beautiful. It is the society of a small town that I find somewhat restrictive. The same company, the same balls and parties night after night…’

‘Rather like London during the Season, in fact,’ Annis said, with just a hint of asperity in her tone.

Adam laughed aloud. ‘You put me neatly in my place, ma’am! Yes, I suppose the Season in London does bear a striking resemblance to the Season anywhere else, be it Brighton or Harrogate. It is simply on a grander scale—and I have my own friends and entertainments.’

‘So I hear!’ Annis said sweetly. She saw that he was not offended by her directness; on the contrary, the laughter lines deepened about his eyes and there was amusement in their grey depths. She imagined that it would be very difficult to discommode Adam Ashwick. He had far too much experience.

Annis shifted slightly in her seat, wishing that she did not feel quite so hot. It was a humid night and, with the candles, the heat was almost overpowering. Then there was her purple turban, which was making her head itch and ache. First the black bombazine and now the dowager purple, Annis thought ruefully. It was a very long time since she had wanted a man to see her in anything other than her drab chaperon’s clothes. Now though, Adam Ashwick’s cool grey gaze was fixed appraisingly on her face and Annis was vain enough to wish that she were appearing to slightly better advantage. It was a novel experience for her to want a man to admire her and it was contrary to every sensible precept that governed her actions.

‘You are often in London, are you not, ma’am?’ he asked. ‘How comes it that we have never met there before?’

Annis gave him a very straight look. ‘It is hardly surprising that we have not met, my lord. I believe that you do not attend débutante balls and I never attend events of any other sort.’

‘Then that is one advantage that a small town confers,’ Adam observed. ‘Here we may all meet and mingle together. A decided benefit, Lady Wycherley, for otherwise I might never have met you.’

Annis laughed, refusing to be flattered. ‘You are very apt with your compliments, my lord.’

The smile deepened in Adam’s eyes. ‘Do you imply that I am not sincere? I assure you that you are quite mistaken.’

Annis flicked him a look. His whole attention was focussed on her in a manner that was decidedly disconcerting. She looked away.

‘Oh, men offer compliments when it suits their purpose! I could not have worked as a chaperon for so many years without realising that fact, my lord.’

Adam grimaced. ‘You are a cynic, ma’am, as no doubt a chaperon should be. I expect it helps you sort the genuine suitors from the rakes when you are trying to make a match for your charges.’ He leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a challenging look. ‘Let us test your assertion. What is my purpose tonight?’

Annis frowned a little. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You said that men offer compliments when it suits their purpose. So what was my purpose in complimenting you?’

Annis looked away, vexed to realise that she was blushing. She had the feeling that she was straying towards dangerous ground here and was not going to be lured into offering a view. She gave Adam a reluctant smile.

‘As to that, I have no notion.’

Adam shifted slightly. ‘I think that you do. You suspect that I want something and am therefore making myself agreeable.’

Annis laughed. ‘I apologise. I was judging on past experience, my lord. Most gentlemen try to charm the chaperon if they are interested in her charges. Perhaps you are looking to marry and are wanting an introduction to the Misses Crossley, Lord Ashwick?’

Adam kept his face straight. ‘I thank you, but no. They do not interest me. You, on the other hand, Lady Wycherley, are a different matter.’

Annis kept her lips tightly closed and vowed to make no more unwary comments that evening. Adam Ashwick was altogether too quick to take her up on them. And Adam, who evidently knew to a nicety when to leave matters in his dealings with the fair sex, smiled slightly and turned the subject.

‘Did you enjoy Miss Mardyn’s dancing tonight, ma’am? I am not entirely sure that Harrogate was quite ready for the experience.’

Annis smothered an unexpected smile. ‘I found it very imaginative, my lord. I can see why Miss Mardyn is so popular.’

There was an answering smile lurking in Adam Ashwick’s eyes as he took in all the things that Annis had carefully omitted to say.

‘I believe that we have The Death of Captain Cook after the interval,’ he said. ‘That should be something of a contrast. Will it be melancholy, do you think?’

‘Almost certainly,’ Annis said cheerfully. ‘If your taste runs to something more classical, my lord, you might wish to return next week, for I believe Mr Jefferson will be appearing in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Or is Shakespeare too sober for you?’

‘On the contrary, I like a good tragedy,’ Adam said easily. ‘However, I am not entirely certain that I shall be here next week. I have business at Eynhallow, my estate towards Skipton, and shall be back and forth to Harrogate during the next month.’

‘Of course,’ Annis murmured. She had forgotten that the Ashwick estate bordered her own land at Starbeck. Starbeck could scarcely aspire to be called an estate, for it was too small, and almost entirely surrounded by its more powerful neighbours. There were the Ashwicks and then, of course, there was Samuel Ingram’s property at Linforth.

‘I understand that your cousin has property in the same direction,’ Adam continued. ‘That charming little house at Starbeck is his, is it not?’

Annis smiled slightly. ‘Starbeck is mine, my lord,’ she said, aware of the hint of pride that crept into her voice. ‘Charles administers the property for me, but it belongs to my branch of the Lafoy family.’

For a second Adam looked surprised. ‘Does it, indeed? But I thought—’ He broke off, a hint of speculation in his eyes.

Annis raised her brows. ‘What did you think, my lord?’

‘Why, merely that Starbeck belonged to Mr Lafoy rather than yourself.’ His voice dropped. ‘It is pleasant to think that I am not entirely surrounded by hostile forces.’

Annis laughed, despite herself. ‘I am sure that it cannot be as bad as that, my lord.’

‘I assure you that it is.’ Adam’s gaze was resting thoughtfully on Samuel Ingram as he chatted to an acquaintance in the theatre pit. He turned back to Annis. ‘You cannot have failed to hear of my…dispute with Mr Ingram, Lady Wycherley, so I do not scruple to mention it. May I hope that you are more sympathetically inclined than your cousin?’

Their eyes met and held. ‘You will find that I am most independently inclined, my lord,’ Annis said coolly. She had no time for Samuel Ingram, but she did not want Adam Ashwick casting her as an ally against Charles.

Adam nodded. ‘I imagine that is the best I can hope for?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Then we understand one another.’ Adam smiled at her. ‘You seem a most unusual chaperon, if I may say so, Lady Wycherley.’

Annis gave him a cool look. ‘From what perspective, my lord?’

‘Well, most chaperons do not own their own estates. One has the impression that they have to work for a living, whereas you, Lady Wycherley…’ Adam gave her a thoughtful look ‘…you give the impression of choosing your profession. As I said, it is unusual.’

Annis laughed. ‘Oh, I have to earn my living, my lord! It is true that I enjoy my work most of the time, and that I prefer to be busy rather than to wither away as some kind of genteel poor relation, but—’ she shrugged ‘—it is not truly a matter of choice.’

‘I see.’ Adam did not seem put out to discover her lack of funds but then, Annis thought, if he had ever seen Starbeck he would know that she was scarcely flush with money. ‘One gets the strong impression that you value your independence, ma’am.’

Annis was a little startled. She had not been aware that she had given away so much about herself. Normally she was remarkably guarded in speaking of herself, particularly to strangers. Particularly to gentlemen of Adam Ashwick’s reputation and experience, who saw far more than they were told.

‘I value my independence almost above all things, my lord,’ she said slowly. ‘And being a chaperon is vastly superior to being a governess or schoolteacher, you know. I may choose when I work and whom I chaperon. I travel and meet people—’ Annis broke off, thinking again that she was offering far too much personal information and wondering why she was telling him such a great deal. It did not help that Adam was giving her his undivided attention, watching her animated face with a faint smile on his lips. She fell silent in something of a confusion.

‘As I said, you are a most unusual chaperon,’ he murmured.

Annis rallied. ‘Do you know many chaperons in order to make such a comparison, my lord?’

‘No, I concede that I do not know many at all.’ Adam was watching her with a lazy amusement that made Annis’s skin prickle. ‘As you correctly surmised, ma’am, I move in vastly different circles.’

‘I imagine that most chaperons can only be grateful for that, my lord,’ Annis said tartly. ‘One must be constantly vigilant for the safety of one’s charges and a gentleman who is not interested in matrimony might be pursuing them for a wholly different purpose!’

Adam laughed. ‘My dear Lady Wycherley, I am not interested in marrying your charges, but I equally uninterested in endangering the virtue of innocents! Only the most hardened of rakes would be so inclined!’

Annis nodded. ‘I see. You make a distinction between yourself and such gentlemen, Lord Ashwick?’

Adam raised his brows. ‘Certainly I do. I am no rake, although I see by your expression that you remain unconvinced, ma’am!’

Annis’s lips twitched. ‘I imagine that it matters little to you what I think, my lord. We shall not be having much conversation in the future.’

‘How so?’

Annis gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘Must I spell matters out, my lord? I am a very proper chaperon with two young ladies to look after. You are…’ She paused.

‘Yes? I am…what?’

‘A gentleman that I would warn my charges to avoid. I am therefore unlikely to set the bad example of courting your company myself.’

Adam burst out laughing. ‘My dear Lady Wycherley! You are harsh towards me. And most direct.’

‘I beg your pardon.’ Annis steadfastly held his gaze. ‘I always feel that honesty helps one to avoid misunderstandings later.’

‘I will grant you that, although I deplore your poor opinion of me, ma’am.’ Adam was still smiling. ‘Perhaps if we had met when we were younger you would not be so wary of me. Indeed, I am surprised that we did not meet, given that we shared a childhood in this very place. I remember your cousins well from my youth.’

Annis smiled. ‘Everyone remembers Sibella, my lord.’

‘Of course! The incomparable Sibella Lafoy! My brother Ned was heartbroken that she preferred David Granger to him. But where were you, Lady Wycherley?’

Annis looked away. ‘I was not brought up near here, my lord. My father was in the Navy and my family travelled a great deal. I visited Starbeck but rarely.’

‘I see. And when you were married? Did you live in London then, ma’am?’

‘No.’ For the life of her, Annis could not prevent a slight shiver. ‘We resided in Lyme Regis.’

She turned away and made a business of looking for Lucy and Fanny in the crowds milling below. Both of them were firmly under Sibella’s supervision, though Fanny was still casting enticing glances over her shoulder at Lieutenant Greaves. Despite the fact that her attention was diverted, Annis could tell that Adam Ashwick was still watching her.

His gaze was steady and perceptive. After a moment he said gently, ‘I am sorry. Have I said something wrong?’

Annis looked back at him, then quickly away. There was no coolness in those grey eyes now, only a searching look that was as disturbing as it was observant. She fidgeted with her fan.

‘No, not at all. Of course not! It is just…I am sorry…’ She floundered, hearing the arch brightness in her own tone. That would convince him of nothing other than the fact that she was disturbed by something. She sounded as socially inept as a schoolgirl. Taking a deep breath she looked him in the eye. ‘I beg your pardon. It is simply that I do not talk about my marriage.’

‘Why not? Were you very unhappy?’ Adam’s tone was soft.

Annis blinked. She was not accustomed to such plain speaking, especially with a man who was virtually a stranger. Yet something in his own directness called an answering candour from her.

‘Yes, I was. Which is why I do not like to speak about it, sir.’

She thought that he would let the matter drop, but Adam touched the back of her hand lightly. ‘I am sorry to hear it, ma’am. Forgive my impertinent questions. When I want to know something I tend to be blunt.’

Annis forced a smile. ‘Please do not apologise, my lord.’ She frowned a little. ‘I am simply uncertain of how we come to be speaking on matters of such intimacy when we are barely acquainted.’

Adam smiled at her. Annis watched the lines deepen about his eyes again and felt a strange pang deep inside her.

‘Natural affinity, I suppose,’ he said softly. He touched her hand again, the lightest of touches. ‘’I shall always be happy to speak with you on any matter you choose, Lady Wycherley.’

‘Annis!’

Annis tore her gaze away from Adam and swung round abruptly. Charles Lafoy had returned to the box and he looked to be in a very bad temper. Annis suspected that this was due in part to the Misses Crossley, who were chattering like a pair of magpies as Sibella ushered them back to their seats, but it was also indubitably the result of finding her deep in conversation with Adam Ashwick. To her own annoyance, she felt herself blush.

Adam got to his feet in unhurried fashion. There was a mocking glint in his eye. ‘Evening, Lafoy. Granger, Mrs Granger, it is a pleasure to see you again…’ He bowed to Sibella before turning back to Annis. There was a decided twinkle in that cool grey gaze now. ‘I have enjoyed consorting with the enemy, ma’am. We must do it again some time…’

‘Good night, my lord,’ Annis said repressively.

Adam smiled at her and withdrew.

Sibella sighed, a little wistfully. ‘Oh, he is as charming as they said he was…’

Charles slid into Adam’s vacated seat. ‘Annis, what the devil were you about, flirting with Ashwick of all people?’

Annis kept her own voice low. ‘I am sure that one may greet an acquaintance without fear of censure, Charles. As you know, I never flirt.’

‘Yes, but Ashwick!’ Charles ran a hand through his fair hair. ‘He is a loose fish. Gambling, drinking, women…’

‘Show me a man who isn’t,’ Annis murmured. ‘Or one who has not indulged at some point in his life.’

Charles looked disapproving. ‘You might at least have some regard for my own situation, if nothing else! Ingram cannot approve—’

‘Fortunately I do not have to be governed by Mr Ingram’s approval.’ Annis smoothed her skirts and threw her cousin a warning glance. ‘You refine too much upon this, Charles. Lord Ashwick is a neighbour and was only doing the pretty. Now, the second act is about to start. May we call a truce?’

The rest of the show was quite spoilt for Annis, who hated to quarrel with either of her cousins. The Death of Captain Cook proved to be a melodramatic tale of tragedy that was ruined anyway by Fanny and Lucy Crossley chattering incessantly. Charles stared ahead with a frown on his handsome brow, completely ignoring the play. When Annis followed his gaze she saw that he was looking across at the Ashwick box, but he was looking not at Adam but rather at the serene countenance of Della Tilney, illuminated by the pale candlelight. When he noticed Annis’s regard, Charles immediately looked away.

It was a subdued group that assembled in the foyer to take their coaches home. Fanny and Lucy Crossley were quite worn out with flirtation and gossip, Sibella, who was increasing, looked fatigued and leaned heavily on David’s arm, and Charles was still preserving an abstracted silence. As Annis shepherded the girls up into the coach, she spotted a closed carriage pulling away from the side entrance to the theatre. The light from the coach lamps fell briefly on Margot Mardyn’s pretty little face before she twitched the curtain back into place. Annis felt flat and cross at the same time. No doubt Miss Mardyn was being spirited away to join Adam Ashwick somewhere. It was just like a man, Annis thought irritably, to be escorting his mother and sister out of the front door of the theatre whilst whisking his chère amie discreetly out of the back. It should not have mattered to her, but unfortunately she found that it did.




Chapter Three


The morrow brought an invitation for Fanny and Lucy to spend a couple of days with their friend, Clara Anstey, under the auspices of her mother, Sibella’s bosom-bow Lady Anstey. Given this unexpected break from her chaperonage duties, Annis decided to borrow Charles’s carriage and make the journey out into the Dales to visit Starbeck. She had every intention of spending a few weeks there once Fanny and Lucy were off her hands, for she had no engagements until she returned to London for the Little Season. However, an advance visit to Starbeck would prove doubly useful; Annis wanted to assess the state of the house before she discussed its future with Charles, and she also wished to see what would be needed to make the house habitable for her stay.

It promised to be a hot day. The wind had dropped and the sun was already high above the Washburn valley. The grey stone villages dozed in the sunshine and higher up, the heather clad moors shimmered in a heat haze.

They stopped at one of Samuel Ingram’s new tollgates on the Skipton road. At present it was simply a wooden hut and a chain across the road, but a group of men were working conspicuously hard on the construction of a neat stone house beside the road. Their factor, a bare-headed young man whose chestnut hair gleamed bright in the sunlight, was standing close by and keeping a wary eye on them. Annis recognised him as Samuel Ingram’s agent at Linforth, Ellis Benson. Ingram tended to surround himself with the impecunious sons of the gentry, Annis thought wryly. Perhaps it was some manifestation of snobbery that he, a self-made man and son of a lighthouse-keeper, should employ those whose birth was so much better than his own.

Ellis saw her and his grim expression lightened in a smile as he lifted a hand in greeting. The tollkeeper came shuffling out of the hut to take their money and Annis leaned out of the window, recognising him as the former schoolmaster of Starbeck village.

‘Mr Castle! How are you, sir?’

The tollkeeper raised one hand to shade his eyes from the sun. His parchment-grey face crinkled into genuine pleasure.

‘Miss Annis! Well, I’ll be…I am very well, ma’am. And you?’

Annis opened the carriage door and let the steps down. The sun felt hot on her face and she could feel the warmth of the road beneath her feet. She tilted the brim of her bonnet to shield her face, feeling grateful that today she had abandoned her chaperon’s turbans for a straw hat and a light blue muslin gown.

‘I am well, thank you, Mr Castle.’ Annis shook hands with tollkeeper. ‘I am back in Harrogate for the summer, you know, and shall be staying at Starbeck next month. But you…’ Annis gestured to the tollhouse. ‘What happened to the school, Mr Castle?’

A strange expression crossed the tollkeeper’s face and for a moment Annis could have sworn it was guilt.

‘I can’t do both, Miss Annis. Besides, Mr Ingram pays me well to take the tolls for him. Nine shillings a week I’m making here.’ He shuffled, turning back to the coachman. ‘That’s ninepence for a carriage and pair, if you please.’

There was a clatter of wheels on the track behind them and then a horse and cart drew up on the road beside the carriage. The carter and his mate jumped down and started to unhitch the horse from between the shaft. A richly pungent smell of dung filled the air. Mr Castle, who had been about to move the chain from across the road so that Annis’ carriage could pass, gave an exclamation and hurried across to the cart.

‘Now see here, Jem Marchant, you can’t do that!’

The carter pushed his hat back from his brow and scratched his head. ‘Do what, Mr Castle?’

‘You can’t unhitch the horse. Horse and cart is fivepence together.’ Castle looked at the cart. ‘Sixpence, as you’ve got narrow wheels.’

‘Horse and cart are only thruppence apart!’ the carter returned triumphantly. ‘None of us can afford to pay Mr Ingram’s prices. Daylight robbery, so it is.’

The aroma of manure was almost enough to make Annis scramble back into the carriage and put the window up, but she suddenly caught sight of what looked like a pile of bricks hidden beneath the manure and leaned over for a closer look. The carter’s accomplice gave her a wink and shovelled some more dung over to hide it. Castle walked around the back of the cart and looked suspiciously at the load.

‘What’ve you got here?’

‘What does it look like?’ The carter started to lead the horse towards the tollgate, tipping his hat to Annis as he went. ‘Mornin’, ma’am.’

‘Good morning,’ Annis returned. A small crowd of villagers was gathering now to see what was going on, appearing from the fields and lanes as though drawn by some mysterious silent message. A few came running up the path from Eynhallow village to see what was happening, whilst the farm workers abandoned their tools and hastened over to the tollbooth. It seemed to Annis as though they were scenting trouble and had come to watch.

The workmen, meanwhile, were leaning on their spades, the carter’s mate was grinning, hands on hips, and Ellis Benson looked as though he thought he should intervene to support the tollkeeper, but really did not want to get involved. The carter unhooked the chain from across the road and urged the horse through.

‘Tell you what, Harry Castle, you’ve made yourselves no friends taking coin from that Ingram. Bloody thief, that man is.’

Castle was sweating, the beads of perspiration running down his face.

‘I’m only trying to make an honest shilling from an honest day’s work, unlike you, Jem Marchant! What you got under that manure, then? Something you should be paying for, I’ll warrant!’

‘Why don’t you look then, nosy?’ The carter’s mate stuck his chest out aggressively. ‘Don’t like to get your hands dirty, do you?’ He spat out the straw he was chewing with deliberate insult in the direction of the builders. ‘Incomers!’ he said with disgust. ‘Ingram ’as to bring men in and pay them over the odds to do his dirty work for ’im.’

A growl went through the ranks of the assembled workmen. Despite the hot sunlight the atmosphere seemed suddenly chill. The workmen were shuffling and looking as though they would like to use their spades on the carter and his mate, and only a sharp word from Benson held them back. The villagers were also angry, swaying like corn with the wind coming up. Annis realised that at any moment the whole situation could go up like a tinderbox.

She backed towards the carriage, wishing now that she had not got down in the first place. The movement drew the attention of the carter’s burly mate.

‘Ain’t that Mr Lafoy’s carriage?’ He looked at Annis with sudden suspicion. ‘They’re all ’ere today, ain’t they? All Ingram’s vultures.’ He took a menacing step towards Annis.

‘Now just a minute,’ Castle said, the sweat dripping off his chin as he looked anxiously from Annis to the crowd, ‘this is Lady Wycherley from Starbeck, and no enemy of yourn. She may be a Lafoy, but she’s got nothing to do with Ingram.’

It was enough to give the carter’s mate pause. He tugged his forelock a little bashfully. ‘Beg pardon, ma’am. Dare say you cannot help being Mr Lafoy’s cousin.’

‘Not really,’ Annis said. ‘It was something I was born with.’

The carter tied his horse to a fence post and came bustling up. He thrust his face close to Annis’s own. ‘All the same, ma’am, you tell that Mr Lafoy that we don’t like turncoats up here in the valley. If he shows his face around here, he’ll be sorry—’

Ellis Benson started forward, obliged to intervene at last. ‘How dare you threaten Lady Wycherley, man—’

It was the spark that set light to the tinder. Within a second it seemed to Annis that the fists were flying as the villagers pelted Ingram’s workmen with stones and the carter and his mate set about Benson and Castle with gusto. Annis sidestepped the carter’s wildly swinging right fist and tried to gain the shelter of the carriage, but just as she reached it a stone hit the Lafoy crest on the bodywork beside her head and splintered into pieces. Annis felt a sharp sting along her cheekbone and put up a hand in astonishment. Her fingers came away with blood on them.

There was a drumming of hooves on the road and the dust swirled up. Annis spun around. An arm went about her waist, scooping her off her feet, and the next moment she was on the saddlebow of a huge bay stallion, whose rider brought the dancing creature sharply under control with a single flick of the reins. The whole experience, so quick and so sudden, literally took her breath away; looking down from what seemed a great height, she realised that it had had a similar effect on the carter and his mate. Both had dropped their fists and were gaping up at her rescuer as though the hand of God had intervened.

‘What the devil is going on here?’ Adam Ashwick’s incisive tones cut across the fight and brought all the men there to their senses. They fell apart from each other, panting heavily, hanging their heads, dropping the stones and shovels that had served them as weapons. Castle put up his sleeve to staunch the blood running from a cut on his forehead. Benson, who seemed to have had the best of the fight owing to a promising amateur career in pugilism, straightened up and pushed the hair back from his forehead.

‘Lord Ashwick!’

‘Benson.’ Adam’s tone was menacing. ‘I do not believe that your employer pays you to come to fisticuffs on the king’s highway?’

Benson’s glance turned to Annis. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Ashwick. I was attempting to defend Lady Wycherley.’

‘Very commendable of you, Benson.’ There was amusement now in Adam Ashwick’s tone. ‘You may safely leave Lady Wycherley’s defence to me now.’

Annis felt his breath stir her hair. She tried to turn to look at him, but he was holding her too tight and too close, with one arm still about her waist and the other holding the reins, and effectively trapping her in front of him. His chest was hard against her back and Annis could feel the beat of his heart. She kept very still.

‘Yes, my lord.’ Benson sketched a bow to Annis and turned away to marshal his workmen, and Adam reined in the chestnut stallion, which was tossing its head skittishly at the crowd. He raised his voice again.

‘Get back to work, all of you! Don’t you have better things to do than stand around here causing trouble?’

‘No, my lord!’ someone shouted. ‘This is as good as a play, and cheaper!’

There was a rumble of laughter. The tension was dissipating now and the crowd started to chatter and melt away. Annis felt Adam’s arms relax a little about her, but he showed no signs of letting her go. He looked down at the hapless carter and his mate.

‘As for you, Marchant, and you, Pierce, I should haul you before the magistrates for breach of the peace!’

The carter looked sheepish. ‘No harm done, m’lord. Apologies, my lady. We never meant to hurt you.’

‘Pay your toll and get going,’ Adam said abruptly. He turned his head and spoke in Annis’s ear.

‘And now, Lady Wycherley, what the deuce are you doing here?’

Annis turned in his arms and found that his face was very close to hers. There was a frown between his brows and his gaze was very stern. At such close quarters Annis could see his features in perfect detail. His eyes, so cool and grey, were fringed by thick black lashes. There was a crease down one cheek that deepened when he smiled. His skin had a golden sheen and there was a trace of stubble darkening his jaw and chin. It felt odd to be so close to him. Odd in an entirely pleasurable way. Annis felt warm and a little light-headed. Her body softened almost imperceptibly against Adam’s and, as his arms tightened about her again, she saw a flash of desire mirrored in his eyes, hot, sudden, shocking.

‘What are you doing here?’ Adam repeated, very softly.

Annis straightened up hastily.

‘I was paying my toll, my lord,’ she said acerbically. ‘As one does.’

Adam’s gaze went from her flushed face to the carriage, and back again. ‘You are here alone?’

Annis was starting to feel guilty as well as flustered. It made her more annoyed. ‘No. I am not alone. I have my coachman and groom.’

‘Lafoy’s coachman—and Lafoy’s coach.’

Annis sighed sharply. ‘As you see, my lord. Would you let me down, if you please? Whilst I appreciate your intervention, I should like to continue to Starbeck now.’

Adam shook his head. ‘Presently. I would like to speak with you first, if you please.’

Annis opened her eyes wide. ‘Here?’

‘Why not?’ Adam gave her a crooked smile. ‘I find I rather like…our current situation.’

Annis was not in a position to argue. Adam drew rein alongside the coach and leaned across to address the shaken coachman.

‘Drive up to the first crossroads. It leads to Eynhallow and you should have no trouble there. I shall bring Lady Wycherley along in a moment.’ He pulled the horse back and raised his whip in salutation as the coach lurched ahead of them, following the cart up the track. Then he tossed a coin to the tollkeeper and swung down from the saddle, holding his arms out to help Annis dismount.

Annis was both disconcerted and annoyed that she had no other choice but to accept his aid. It was a long way down to the ground and she had no desire to turn her ankle by trying to jump. She placed her hands lightly on Adam’s shoulders and slid down, feeling his arms close about her again to steady her. For a second his cheek brushed hers, his dark hair soft against her skin, then he stepped back and released her gently.

‘You are importunate, my lord,’ Annis snapped, thoroughly ruffled now, ‘both in the way you…you picked me up and the way you set me down!’

Adam raised a quizzical brow. He looped the horse’s reins over his arm. ‘I beg your pardon if I disturbed you, Lady Wycherley.’

Annis turned slightly away and smoothed her skirts down in self-conscious fashion. Adam had disturbed her—very much—but she did not want to admit it. After a moment she was able to regain her composure and fall into step with him on the sun-baked road. The echo of the carriage wheels was dying away up the track and the builders had returned to their work on the tollhouse, and there was no sound but for the birds in the trees and the faint bleating of the sheep in the fields.

‘You are not too shaken, I hope, Lady Wycherley,’ Adam asked, casting her a look of concern. ‘I doubt that they would have hurt you—you simply became caught in the crossfire.’

‘I know.’ Annis put her fingers to her cheek again. The bleeding had stopped, but it felt a little sore. ‘I suppose I was ungracious just now, my lord, and I should thank you for your prompt action. It was kind of you to come to my rescue.’

Adam smiled. Annis’s errant heart did a little flip at the sight of it. ‘It was the first time that I have swept a lady off her feet,’ he said slowly.

The air between them seemed to sizzle with the heat of the day—and something else.

‘I doubt that,’ Annis said, trying to remain practical, ‘and, as a chaperon, I must object to being swept.’

Adam raised one dark brow. ‘Why is that? Do chaperons never experience any adventure, my lady?’

‘Certainly not. It goes against the grain.’

Adam stepped closer. ‘I should imagine that the most useful experience for a chaperon would be to undergo all the things that might happen to one of your charges, in order to be able to advise them what to do in each circumstance.’

Annis choked on a laugh. ‘An outrageous suggestion, my lord!’

Adam shrugged. ‘Tell me if you change your mind, Lady Wycherley.’

Annis started to walk again, her fingers straying to her cheek where the cut was feeling hot and itchy in the sunshine. She saw Adam glance at her and then he took her arm.

‘Come into the shade,’ he said abruptly. ‘I want to have a look at that scratch on your cheek.’

Annis tried to pull away, feeling panic stir in her again. ‘It is nothing—’

‘Nevertheless, I would like to make sure.’

Adam drew her into the shade of a spreading oak tree, dropped the horse’s reins and left the stallion grazing docilely on the bank. He turned to Annis, taking her chin in one hand and tilting her face up to the light. His gaze was intent, his touch was gentle and impersonal, but Annis nevertheless felt as though it was branding her. She tried not to jump away. No one had touched her for a very long time. No one had ever touched her with such tenderness.

‘Hold still…’ Adam’s voice was barely above a murmur, his fingers as light as the stroke of a feather. ‘There is a graze on your cheek, but I do not think it will leave a scar.’

‘It is nothing.’ Annis said again. Her voice was shaky. ‘Please, my lord—’

Adam dropped his hand. His gaze fell to her lips. Suddenly the air between them, hot and heavy already, seemed even more heated.

Annis found that she was shaking. ‘I must rejoin my carriage, my lord,’ she whispered. ‘I am expected at Starbeck—’

There was a pause, then Adam stepped back. ‘Of course. It is only a little further up the road.’

There was a stiff silence between them as they scrambled back down on to the track. When Adam offered her his hand to help her down, Annis hesitated before taking it. Finally, when they were once more walking up towards the crossroads, Annis spoke slowly.

‘How is it, my lord, that it has become dangerous for me to travel alone in the countryside I have known all my life?’

Adam shrugged. ‘These are unhappy times, my lady. Mr Ingram is tightening his grip on a populace already worn down by hunger and poverty. You saw the hostility to the imposition of the tolls just now. It is an even choice as to who is hated more here—Ingram for his greed and meanness or your cousin Charles Lafoy, who was one of them and has now become Ingram’s creature.’

Annis’s lips tightened. She felt indignation on Charles’s behalf but she was afraid for him as well. She had had intimations of this in her letters from the Shepherd family at Starbeck, but this made it all much more real. And more serious.

‘Is it truly so bad? I had not realised. I have read in the papers about the riot over the enclosure of Shawes Common and the arson attacks on Mr Ingram’s property, but—’ she frowned ‘—I had not imagined the hostility to be so strong.’

Adam cast her a look. ‘Even in Harrogate it is sometimes easy to forget the feelings that run high out in the countryside. Perhaps your cousin does not yet realise how much he is disliked, or perhaps he feels that it is worth it for what Ingram must pay him.’

Annis flashed him a look of dislike. ‘I do not believe you should make such an assumption, my lord! You can have no idea why Charles chooses to work for Mr Ingram.’

Adam gave her a cynical look. ‘Do you know why he does? You are very loyal, Lady Wycherley, but perhaps that loyalty is misplaced. Unless I miss my guess, it will be put to the test all too soon.’

Annis stopped abruptly in the middle of the dusty road. ‘Pray explain exactly what you mean by that, my lord!’

‘With pleasure. I am speaking of Starbeck. It is common knowledge that Mr Ingram wants that property. Perhaps he has already made you an offer for it.’ His searching gaze studied her indignant face. ‘No? He will. He is waiting for Lafoy to do his dirty work for him.’

Annis raised her brows haughtily. ‘And?’

‘And Lafoy has already been preparing the ground. The reason that you have not had a permanent tenant at Starbeck for the past two years, Lady Wycherley, is that your cousin has deliberately avoided finding one. He wishes the house to fall down and for you to be unable to afford the repairs. That way Mr Ingram can step in—and make a lower offer.’ Adam laughed. ‘Did you not suspect any of this?’

‘No!’ Annis said hotly. She recovered herself. ‘Nor do I believe you, sir. You are stirring up trouble because of your dislike for Mr Ingram.’

Adam shrugged easily. ‘I cannot deny that I detest Ingram. That is beside the point, however. You will soon see that I am right.’

Annis glared at him from under the brim of her straw hat. ‘You are an odious man, Lord Ashwick.’

‘Why? Because I tell the truth?’ Adam quirked a brow.

‘No. You know what I mean. To set me against my cousin…’

Adam’s expression became grimmer. ‘I am sorry that you see it like that, Lady Wycherley.’ He gestured to the carriage, drawn up ahead of them at the crossroads. ‘Go to Starbeck! See for yourself.’

‘I will!’ Annis said. She was afraid that she sounded sulky, but could not quite help herself. She was very afraid that all the things Adam was saying might be true. He put his hand on her arm.

‘But before you go, Lady Wycherley, just how odious do you think me?’

‘I…oh…’ Annis’s gaze fell before his searching look. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Ashwick. I meant that what you said was odious, and not that you yourself…’ She faltered. ‘That is, I thought it unkind in you to speak as you did.’

‘I see,’ Adam said. He gave her a crooked smile. ‘I suppose I should be grateful that you make a distinction.’ He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. ‘Good day, Lady Wycherley.’

Aware that her face was now as red as a setting sun, Annis scrambled up into her carriage with absolutely no decorum. She tried to ignore Adam’s hand outstretched to help her, but he outmanoeuvred her by the simple expedient of taking her elbow to help her up. He stood back and raised his hand in mocking farewell.

‘Drive on!’ Annis said crossly to the coachman, well aware that even as the coach turned the corner and Adam Ashwick was left behind, her palm still tingled with the imprint of his kiss.



Annis’s journey home that evening was uneventful, which was fortunate as she had plenty to think about. Whenever she tried to concentrate on the shocking dilapidation of Starbeck, she found herself thinking instead of Adam Ashwick, and not of the Adam from whom she had parted in a temper, but the one who had held her with such heart-shaking tenderness. She was out of all patience with herself by the time she reached Church Row and was glad to partake of a solitary supper. She had just finished the meal when there was a knock at the door.

‘Your cousin is here,’ Mrs Hardcastle announced, coming into the dining room and wiping her hands on her apron. The housekeeper had been with the Lafoy family for years and, when Annis had returned to England, had gladly accepted a post in her household. Her husband, who had died some ten years previously, had been the family’s coachman. These days Annis made do with a very small staff, of which Mrs Hardcastle was the undisputed matriarch. She was a tiny woman with bright dark eyes and a bosom encased in black that jutted like a shelf. It was unfortunate, Annis thought, that the bosom was what always drew the eye first. Plenty of gentlemen had been accused of ‘sauce’ for staring incredulously at Mrs Hardcastle’s figure, when in fact it was difficult to look elsewhere.

‘Powerful big bunch of flowers Mr Lafoy’s got with ’im,’ Mrs Hardcastle continued. She fixed Annis with a disapproving eye. ‘He ain’t come courting ’as he, Miss Annis?’

Annis put her book aside a little regretfully. She had been enjoying the peace. ‘I doubt it, Hardy. Charles does not appear interested in the Misses Crossley and he has never shown any urge to marry me!’

Mrs Hardcastle sniffed. ‘Well, I haven’t seen a bouquet so large since Mrs Arbuthnot’s funeral, Miss Annis. You bin reading books at the table again? T’ain’t good for you, you know. You need a bit of company.’

‘I like my own company,’ Annis said, getting to her feet. ‘Still, as Charles is here I suppose I had better see him. Please show him into the drawing-room, Hardy.’

When she went into the room, Charles was standing before the fireplace, a bunch of pink roses in one hand. He was fidgeting a little nervously with his neckcloth. When he saw Annis he looked simultaneously anxious and relieved, and came over to kiss her.

‘Annis? You are well? Benson rode over this afternoon and told me what had happened at the tollhouse.’

‘That was nice of him,’ Annis said composedly. ‘Are those flowers for me, Charles? How kind of you.’

‘They are from Mr Ingram,’ Charles said, holding the bouquet out to her a little awkwardly. ‘He was most distressed to hear what had happened.’

‘Please thank him from me.’ Annis laid the flowers on the sideboard. ‘It was an unpleasant experience, but I assure you I came to no harm.’

She sat down and, after a moment, Charles did the same, taking the chair opposite. He adopted such a concerned look that Annis was hard put to it not to laugh.

‘Truly, Charles, I am very well. Lord Ashwick arrived before too much harm was done. I fear your carriage has suffered a few dents, however.’

‘Never mind the carriage.’ Charles sat forward. ‘Ellis said that Ashwick had turned up. I suppose I should be grateful to him for rescuing you.’ He sounded both dubious and unwilling. ‘The trouble is that every time I hear of Ashwick’s involvement in one of these situations I am convinced he has stirred up the trouble in the first place!’

Annis raised her brows. ‘I think you may acquit him of that, Charles. He was nowhere near the tollhouse when the altercation broke out. It was a carter called Marchant and his companion who started to goad the workmen.’

‘Ellis told me,’ Charles said glumly. ‘Trouble is, Annis, there is more than one way of stirring rebellion. Ashwick’s brother is the rector of Eynhallow, you know, and preaches fierily against exploitation.’

Annis sighed. ‘If he is anything like Lord Ashwick, I imagine he is not subtle about it!’

Charles looked rather amused. ‘I say, Annis, what has Ashwick done to upset you?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ Annis said quickly. She did not want to let her cousin know that it was Adam who had told her about Starbeck, for that did smack of making trouble. ‘I find him somewhat brusque, that is all.’

Charles looked amused. ‘I thought that you liked him.’

Annis gave him a straight stare. She was not about to admit to a partiality for Lord Ashwick, no matter that there was a grain of truth in Charles’ words. ‘Did you, Charles?’

Charles crossed his legs. ‘Do not seek to gammon me, Annis! At the theatre the two of you looked more than cosy together.’

‘As far as I am aware, Lord Ashwick is cosy with Miss Mardyn rather than anyone else.’ Annis shifted a little. She knew that she was turning a little pink. ‘Now, Charles, do not seek to distract me. I must speak with you about Starbeck.’

There was a knock and Mrs Hardcastle came in with a tray and two glasses of wine. She slapped it down on the sideboard.

‘There you are, Mr Lafoy. Get that inside you. My nephew’s best elderflower cordial, that is. Got yourself a wife yet, have you?’

She thrust a glass at Charles, who looked revolted for a second but manfully covered his lapse. ‘Thank you, Hardy. No, I fear I have not yet found a lady willing to take me on.’

‘You should ask your cousin to find you an heiress,’ Mrs Hardcastle said, with a grim nod at Annis. ‘Powerful good at settling these girls, Miss Annis is. Why, you should see her with these two little minxes we have now! As good as betrothed already, they are! Though why anyone would want to marry the elder girl—’

‘Thank you, Hardy,’ Annis said, a little desperately.

‘Vulgar, vulgar, vulgar!’ Mrs Hardcastle finished triumphantly. ‘Excuse me, miss. I have to finish up in the scullery this evening. There’s a mouse’s nest in there. Quite a plague there was this last winter.’

‘How on earth you cope with her I’ll never know,’ Charles said, as the door closed behind the housekeeper. ‘I know she has been worked for the family for years, but surely it is time to pension her off?’

‘Hardy would go into a decline if she were not busy all the time,’ Annis said. ‘She is like me in that respect, Charles. She would never forgive me if I told her we wanted to lose her services.’

‘Have you asked her?’ Charles enquired. ‘She might be grateful to hang up her apron.’ He took a sip of the wine and grimaced. ‘Ugh! This is too sweet for me.’

‘Pour it on the trailing ivy,’ Annis instructed, waving towards the impressive collection of greenery that decorated a corner of the room. ‘It thrives on the cordial! I have watered it often enough with mine.’

‘So you wished to speak of Starbeck,’ Charles said, when he had regained his seat. ‘How did you find it, Annis?’

Annis looked him in the eye. ‘It was shockingly bad, Charles. The roof leaks so much that one of the bedrooms has an impromptu indoor waterfall and the wood of the front door has swollen in the damp of the winter, then dried out in the summer and cracked across the frame. Several of the windows are broken and the place is infested with mice.’ Annis made a hopeless gesture. ‘And about it all is an air so tumbledown and neglected that I think it would take a fortune to put to rights. You know as well as I that I do not possess such a fortune.’

Charles was looking tired. He ran a hand through his fair hair. ‘I have tried, Annis. The money you have sent me has all been passed to Tom Shepard to spend on the upkeep of the home farm. There is simply not enough to go round.’

‘He told me.’ Annis passed her cousin a glass of brandy from the decanter. ‘He said that there were insufficient funds and that you had too little time to spend there.’

Charles flushed guiltily. ‘It is true that I have been very busy of late. My work for Ingram…’ He shrugged expressively.

‘Tom was telling me that there has been a poor harvest these two years past and a bad winter this year. People are barely surviving, Charles.’

Charles shifted, leaning forward. ‘Annis, I know you are opposed to selling, but for the sake of the estate you must consider it.’

Annis jumped to her feet. Her instinctive reaction was to refuse. ‘No!’ She swung around. ‘Charles, one of the reasons that Starbeck is in such a parlous state is that there has been no permanent tenant for over two years.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you tried—truly tried—to find one for me?’

There was a moment when her cousin looked her in the eye and she was convinced he was going to tell her the truth. Adam’s words rang in her ears: The reason that you have not had a permanent tenant at Starbeck for the past two years, Lady Wycherley, is that your cousin has deliberately avoided finding one. He wishes the house to fall down and for you to be unable to afford the repairs. That way Mr Ingram can step in…

Then Charles looked away and fidgeted with his empty brandy glass.

‘Annis…’ His tone was reasonable. ‘Of course I tried…’

‘I see.’ Annis felt a chill. ‘Yet you found no one.’

‘It is not all bad news,’ Charles said encouragingly. ‘Mr Ingram would be interested in buying Starbeck from you, Annis.’

Annis glared at him. ‘I am sure that he would, Charles.’

Charles got to his feet. ‘I must go. Please think about Ingram’s offer, Annis. It would solve your difficulties.’ He came across to kiss her cheek and it was only by an effort of will that Annis did not pull away.

‘Goodnight, Charles,’ she said tightly.

After her cousin had gone, Annis sat by the window and looked out over the twilit garden. She could not bear to sell Starbeck. It would be like selling a part of her independence. As for Charles, for all his denials, she did not trust him. It had all happened just as Adam Ashwick had predicted.

Annis found that she was looking across to the houses opposite, where the lights burned in the house Adam had taken. She wondered if he had returned to Harrogate that afternoon or whether he had stayed at Eynhallow. Then she wondered when she would see him again, and then wondered why she was wondering! Finally, in a burst of irritation, she twitched the curtains closed and went up to bed, to dream, blissfully, about being swept off her feet.




Chapter Four


Fanny and Lucy Crossley returned the following day, full of chatter and excitement about their stay with the Anstey family. There was a ball that night at the Granby, and on the following morning, Lucy vouchsafed that Lieutenant Norwood had suggested a carriage outing to the River Nidd at Howden.

‘It is not very far and should prove a pleasant trip for a summer day,’ she begged, when Annis expressed reservations about the plan. ‘Oh, please, Lady Wycherley, do let us go!’

Annis was torn. On the one hand she had seen the growing regard between Lucy and Barnaby Norwood and wished to encourage it, Mr Norwood being a most eligible young man. On the other hand, Lieutenant Norwood’s best friend was the dashing Lieutenant Greaves, and the last thing that Annis wanted was to throw Fanny and Greaves together. In the end, unable to resist the mixture of hope and pleading in Lucy’s eyes, Annis agreed, consoling herself with the thought that she would be able to keep a close eye on Fanny and that Sir Everard Doble was also to be one of their party. The young baronet arrived for the outing with a volume of poetry clasped under one arm and a boater with coloured ribbons adorning his head, and Lucy and Fanny were hard put to it to conceal their mirth.

Mindful of the heat of the day, Annis had discarded her evening blacks for a muslin gown in pale pink, with a straw hat with matching ribbons and a pale pink parasol. When she first appeared, Lucy’s eyes lit up like stars.

‘Why, Lady Wycherley, you look famously pretty!’

Fanny screwed up her hard little face. ‘You look too young to be our chaperon,’ she said disagreeably, and Annis, smiling widely, reflected that that was as close to a compliment as she was ever likely to get from Fanny.

It was a glorious day and the party was in high spirits as they set off. Lieutenants Norwood and Greaves kept up a flow of easy conversation with the girls, whilst Sir Everard sat reading his poetry and Annis looked out of the carriage window at the view. Howden was an attractive little village and there was a charming riverside path that ran along the bank under the dappled shadow of the willow trees. Fanny and Lucy chattered constantly, seemingly unimpressed by the natural beauty around them. Annis, having ensured that Fanny took Sir Everard’s arm rather than that of Lieutenant Greaves, was content to stroll along behind, enjoying the cool shade.

They reached a place where the bank opened out into a wide meadow. Lieutenant Greaves started to recite some poetry, in evident mockery of Sir Everard, who frowned at such levity and walked off on his own. The girls giggled. Annis turned away, irritated, and caught sight of a man standing beneath the weeping willows, gazing out across the water meadows to where the spire of a church cut the heat haze. At the sound of voices he turned impatiently and looked as though he was about to stride away. Then he checked. Annis, with a mixture of surprise and hastily repressed anticipation, recognised Adam Ashwick.

She hesitated. His stance was very much that of a person who wished to be left alone, but it seemed churlish to ignore him when it was obvious that they had recognised one another. After a moment she walked across to join him in the lee of the willows, and Adam sketched a slight bow.

‘How do you do, Lady Wycherley?’

Annis could not tell from his tone whether he was pleased to see her but she thought that probably he was not. She suspected that he was annoyed that she had brought a group of chattering youngsters to spoil the peace.

She tilted her parasol to shadow her eyes. The reflection off the water was blinding.

‘Good afternoon, Lord Ashwick. This is a beautiful spot.’

Adam Ashwick’s lips twisted into a smile. ‘It is indeed, Lady Wycherley. I often come her when I am looking for a little solitude.’

There was only one way to take that. Annis blushed and felt vexed, with him for his frankness and with herself for originally being pleased to see him when he so clearly wished to avoid company.

‘Then I beg your pardon for spoiling your retreat, sir.’

She made to walk away, but Adam put a hand on her arm. ‘Lady Wycherley. Forgive me, that was unconscionably clumsy of me. Will you not stay for a little?’

Annis hesitated. She had enough of an excuse to walk away if she wished, for Fanny and Lucy were now shrieking and running around in a most unladylike fashion. Lieutenant Greaves and Lieutenant Norwood were making impromptu boats from twigs and arranging a race down the river. Sir Everard stood a little apart, arms folded, looking disapproving. He had an unfortunate habit of looking down his nose, Annis thought. Even if he did not mean to appear superior, that was the effect it had. Within the light-hearted group he stood out like a sore thumb.

‘Please,’ Adam Ashwick said, persuasively, recalling her attention to him. ‘If there is anyone I would care to share the view with, it is you, ma’am.’

The blood fizzed beneath Annis’s skin as she blushed again under Adam’s appreciative scrutiny. ‘I am happy to rest a moment in the shade if I am not disturbing you, my lord,’ she temporised. ‘I may only be a moment, though.’




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