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Runaway Miss
Mary Nichols


Just who is Miss Fanny Draper? Alexander, Viscount Malvers, is sure the beautiful girl on the public coach is not who she says she is. Her shabby clothing and claim of being a companion cannot hide the fact that she is Quality. He's intrigued. This captivating miss is definitely running away, but from what-or whom?Alex is adept at getting under her guard, but Lady Emma Lindsay must keep up the pretence. As her feelings grow, so does her dilemma. Maybe a lady can follow her heart, but a poor companion certainly can't-and Miss Fanny Draper she must remain!









My God, she was beautiful!


He wanted to pull her into his arms to kiss her, but she was not the sort of woman you could do that to—not suddenly and for no reason. What in heaven’s name was she doing here, wandering among the buttercups and daisies, miles from home? Who was she?

He felt it too, this strange alchemy, and he supposed it had been there from the start of this strange journey. It was why he was determined to escort her, even when she made it plain she did not want an escort. It wasn’t only the mystery surrounding her—perhaps there was no mystery and she was exactly what she said she was—it was something about the girl herself. Her beauty, her courage and independence, all the attributes he had said would make her unfit to be a lady’s companion, were the very things which drew him to her.



Runaway Miss

Harlequin


Historical




MARY NICHOLS


Born in Singapore, Mary Nichols came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, school secretary, information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children, and four grandchildren.




Runaway Miss

MARY NICHOLS







TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND




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Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve




Prologue


1816

It was almost dawn, the eastern sky over the chimney pots of St James’s bore a distinct pink tinge, and soon the sun’s rays would penetrate to the level of the street and the creatures of the night, human and animal, would disappear and those of the day make an appearance. But the gentlemen sitting at the card table in the gaming room of Brooks’s club were unaware of the time. The heavy curtains in the room were drawn against the windows and the only light was from the lamps that had been burning all night, so that now the room was stuffy and malodorous.

The previous evening it had been crowded, all the tables filled, but as midnight approached the first players began to leave, followed by others until, by three in the morning, only one foursome remained intent on their game. Hovering over them, wishing he could go home to his bed, was a liveried, bewigged footman whose task it was to make sure their glasses remained full. Except what was necessary to further the game, no one had spoken for hours.

The four men—Lord Cecil Bentwater, Sir George Tasker, Mr Jeremy Maddox and Viscount Alexander Malvers—were so absorbed that the time of day, even the day of the week, hunger or families and servants patiently waiting for them to come home meant nothing at all. Lord Bentwater, who had the largest pile of coins and vowels beside his elbow, was in his middle to late fifties, dressed entirely in black, unrelieved except for a white neckcloth in which reposed a glittering diamond pin. He had a pasty complexion and dark glittering eyes.

Sir George Tasker was a year or two younger, dressed in a single-breasted green coat, a waistcoat of cream satin embroidered with silver thread and a fine lawn shirt with lace flounces protruding from the sleeves. He wore several rings, a crumpled neckcloth and a quizzing glass dangling from his thick neck. A film of perspiration caked his face. His dark eyes were wary and a twitch in his jaw told of a man reaching the end of his tether.

Mr Jeremy Maddox was just twenty-one, a tulip of the first order. His shirt-collar points stood up against his cheeks and his cravat was tied in a flamboyant bow, the ends of which cascaded over his sky blue waistcoat. Undoubtedly his doting mama would have been horrified if she could see the company he was keeping.

The fourth man at the table, Viscount Alexander Malvers, was very different, both in appearance and demeanour. He eschewed the fanciful garb of the pink of the ton, for a well-cut cloth coat of forest green, a white waistcoat and a sensibly tied cravat. At thirty years old, he had come back from service in the Peninsula and Waterloo in one piece and was thankful for it. He was not a habitual gambler, certainly not for higher stakes than he could afford, and had only consented to make up the four when Count Vallon dropped out.

He had been watching them for some time before that and had come to the conclusion that Lord Bentwater was far too clever for Sir George—the latter, if he had had any sense, should have paid up and left long ago. Alex had joined them out of curiosity to see how far Sir George was prepared to go before throwing in the towel. Years in the army when boredom was, more often than not, the order of the day had taught Alex to be a skilled card player and he was prudent in the way he played so that he was a little on the plus side, but not by much. Now he, like the waiter, wished only for his bed.

‘Well, George?’ Bentwater broke the silence. ‘Do you go on?’

‘You’ll take my voucher?’

‘I’ve a drawer full of your vouchers at home, George. Ain’t it time you began honouring them?’

‘Drawer full?’ Sir George looked decidedly worried. ‘I never gave you above three that I can remember.’

‘I bought the rest.’

Sir George was startled. ‘Why?’

‘An investment, my friend. Got them for half their face value, some of the older ones even less than that, since their holders had given up hope of being paid.’

‘In that case you don’t expect me to honour them for the full amount, do you?’

‘Oh, dear me, yes. Plus interest, of course.’

‘I can’t, you know I can’t.’

‘Why not? I thought when you married the widow, you were made for life.’

‘So did I,’ George said despondently. ‘I was gulled.’

‘You mean she had no money?’ Bentwater roared with laughter, though it was not a happy sound. ‘Oh, that’s a great jest.’

‘There was money there, all right, but she didn’t have the spending of it. Her baboon of a husband left her a small annuity and tied all the rest up for the daughter.’

‘Then you should have married the daughter, George. How old is she?’

‘Twenty now, eighteen when I married her mother.’

‘Old enough to be married,’ Bentwater said, thoughtfully tapping his wine glass against his rotting teeth.

‘I didn’t know she was the heiress at the time or I might have done. Now it’ll all go to whatever cock-brained cabbage marries her.’

‘Then, George, you had better make sure she marries where it will do you most good,’ Bentwater advised. ‘You need her dibs to pay off your debts.’

‘Then you had best tell me how that is to be done, Cecil, since the solution eludes me.’

‘Is she comely?’

‘She is. Fair face. Good teeth. Fine figure. Tall…’

‘How tall?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I am an inch short of six feet and overtop her by two or three inches or thereabouts. What do you want to know that for?’

‘It ain’t right for a wife to be taller than her husband.’

‘True.’

‘And she has a fortune, you say?’

‘Will have. Until she marries it is administered by trustees. Thirty thousand a year at least. And I can’t lay my hands on any of it.’ It was said bitterly.

‘Then you have your answer, my friend. I’ll take her off your hands for the return of your vouchers…’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘How many have you got?’

‘A drawer full, I told you. Twenty thousand pounds’ worth. And there’s that diamond pin you gave me which turned out to be paste.’ He paused so that the others could digest this news and make what they would of it. ‘Have you had all your jewels copied, George?’ he added pleasantly, though everyone at the table was aware of the undercurrents of malice. ‘That wouldn’t sit well with your creditors if they knew of it.’

Sir George gulped, while Jeremy laughed a little crazily and Alex, who had heard some bizarre wagers in his time, was beginning to wish he had never joined in the game and helped to bring about Sir George’s humiliation. The whole affair could cut up nasty.

‘You want me to give you my stepdaughter?’

‘Why not? I need a wife. The others I had were useless, never gave me an heir and a man needs an heir, so the younger and stronger the better. And if she comes from a good family with a generous dowry, that is all to the good…’

‘I say, gentlemen,’ Alex put in mildly. ‘Don’t you think that’s coming it too brown?’

‘None of your business,’ Bentwater snapped. ‘Unless you fancy buying Sir George’s vouchers and taking the chit off his hands yourself.’

‘No, I do not. I would never stoop to buying myself a wife. No need to.’ He saw the older man’s eyes darken with anger, but could not resist adding, ‘Supposing she won’t have you?’

‘In my book daughters do as they’re bid.’ He turned back to Sir George. ‘I’ll be fair. Your vouchers and five thousand in cash. With a little luck you could make that grow…’

Sir George’s expression betrayed his wildly erratic thinking. His despair was suddenly replaced by hope, as if someone had thrown him a lifeline. He could survive. With five thousand he could make another fortune. All he needed was for the cards to fall right.

‘Mind you,’ Bentwater went on, ‘you don’t get the money until after the wedding ceremony.

‘Her mother would never agree…’

‘Wives, like daughters, should do as they are told.’

‘You drive a hard bargain, my lord.’

‘So, it is a bargain, then?’

Reluctantly Sir George offered his hand. ‘It’s a bargain.’

Lord Bentwater shook the hand, gathered up his winnings and rose from the table. ‘Gentlemen, I suggest we adjourn. Sir George has some persuading to do.’ Then, to George, ‘I shall expect to be presented to the lady and her mama at the first available opportunity. Shall we say Almack’s on Wednesday?’

‘But that’s only two days away.’

‘One, considering it is now Tuesday. And the sooner the better, don’t you think? The interest is accruing every day you delay.’

And with that, he disappeared, leaving Sir George so bemused he didn’t seem to know what to do, and Jeremy Maddox laughing fit to burst out of his tight pantaloons. Alex, picking up his winnings from the table, frowned at him. ‘Come, Maddox, let’s go and find some fresh air. There is a bad smell in here.’

Out in the street it was fully daylight, but blustery. There had been rain overnight and the streets were full of muddy puddles. Alex smiled at the efforts of a tiny crossing sweeper to clear a path for them, and gave him more than the penny he asked for the service. The milkmaids were driving their cows to sell their milk at the kitchen doors of the grand houses, the sweep with his diminutive helper was on his way to his first call, hawkers with their trays were establishing their pitches. A dray rumbled down the middle of the road, but had to give way to a cab rattling towards it at breakneck speed. Another day had begun.

‘What an entertaining evening,’ Maddox said, picking his way carefully between the puddles. ‘I thought Sir George was going to have a seizure.’

‘Do you know him well?’

‘No, though he has a reputation for playing deep. I had no idea he was so low in the stirrups.’

‘You don’t think Bentwater will hold him to their arrangement, do you?’

‘Oh, no doubt of it, though how long she’ll last I have no idea. He’s been through three wives already, all of them wealthy. The first died in childbirth and the infant along with her. Rumour at the time had it he was mad as fire because it was a boy. Wife two died in an accident with a coach and wife three was murdered by an unknown assailant who has never been caught. Her brother maintained at the time Bentwater himself was the culprit, but no evidence was found and it was put down to the man’s grief. Naturally, his lordship has been finding it hard to persuade a fourth to take the trip to the altar.’

He could not imagine any young lady of twenty years, with an ounce of spirit, agreeing to marry Lord Bentwater. The man was positively repulsive. Nor would any mother worth her salt allow her daughter to be used in that way—Sir George had said as much. ‘What do you suppose will happen if she cuts up rough and refuses the old rake? They can hardly drag her to the altar.’

‘No idea. Presumably Sir George will have to find another way to redeem his vouchers.’

‘If we had not agreed to play, the situation would not have occurred.’

‘If we hadn’t played, they would have found someone else, if not tonight, then some other time. I’ll wager Bentwater didn’t just think of that on the spur of the moment, he has been planning it for some time. And I fancy anyone trying to thwart him will find he has made a mortal enemy. If you are thinking of intervening, Malvers…’

‘Not I. I do not have twenty thousand pounds to throw away.’ Why did everyone assume that, because he had inherited a title, he was a wealthy man? It was far from the case.

‘You wouldn’t be throwing it away. You would be gaining a wife and, according to Sir George, she has a fortune. I say, you aren’t married, are you?’

‘No, never had the time. I’ve been soldiering all my adult life.’ The late Viscount had had very little time for his younger son, whom he considered soft and too attached to his mother. He had packed him off into the army to ‘harden him up and make a man of him’. The life of a soldier had certainly hardened him, had taught him not to shudder at man’s inhumanity to man, to deal with wounds and indiscipline in a measured way, but under that hard shell the core of him remained what it had always been: sympathetic to the plight of others, especially those not able to defend themselves.

He had been known to give up his own billet for a soldier who was ill, but should that same man let him down his wrath could be terrible. Being an officer, it had sometimes been his duty to order punishment for misdemeanours among his men, even when he felt sorry for them, but showing it would have been interpreted as weakness and he would have forfeited their respect. He was not to be duped or crossed, but anyone with a genuine grievance would find in him a ready listener. He could fight ferociously, but at the end of a successful battle could spare the life of an enemy, when others would have slaughtered him with no compunction. The two sides of his nature—the hard, somewhat cynical soldier and the compassionate, caring man—were often in conflict with each other, which made him something of an enigma to those around him.

‘So, have you only recently come into your inheritance?’

‘Last year. My elder brother died and my father only a week later, of the shock, you know.’ Lawrence, seven years older than Alex, had been the apple of his father’s eye, a hard-riding, hard-drinking autocrat, and his death in a hunting accident had caused their father to collapse of a heart attack from which he had not recovered.

‘My condolences.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Your brother had no heir?’

‘No.’ Lawrence had married as society and family convention dictated, money and rank being uppermost in the arrangement, and that had been a disaster. Lawrence had found himself trying to satisfy a wife who would never be satisfied. As far as Constance was concerned, she had married a title and the fact that her husband’s pockets were not bottomless carried no weight with her. The more he tried to please her, the more she demanded.

‘Why did you marry her?’ Alex had asked him after one particularly acrimonious dispute over her extravagance and the disreputable friends she encouraged.

‘Because it was expected of me. As the elder son I must have a wife in order to beget a legitimate heir to carry on the line.’

He knew that. ‘But why Constance? Why not someone else?’

‘She seemed eminently suitable—old established family, good looks—and she set out to charm me. Once the ring was on her finger, I realised how false that charm was. Too late. Just be thankful you are a second son, Alex, and can please yourself.’

Matters went from bad to worse, until the prospect of a career in the army was a welcome escape from the tensions in the house. The men under his command had become his family. They lived, ate, played and fought together and his care of them was repaid with staunch loyalty. He had seen some of them die, seen courage and stoicism and cruelty too. He had watched those women who had been allowed to accompany their men combing the battlefield after every encounter with the enemy, ready to tend their wounds. He admired their devotion, their stoical acceptance of the hard and dangerous life in order to be with their men, to endure heat and drought, rain and snow, to cook for them at the end of a day’s march, tend their wounds, even carry their kit if they were too exhausted to do so. He had found himself comparing the steadfastness of these ragged uneducated women with some of the officers’ wives who considered it their God-given right to ride in carriages, take the cosiest billets and the best of whatever food was going. And their men, fools that they were, pandered to them, just as Lawrence had done. It hadn’t made Constance love him any the more; Alex suspected she despised him. In his opinion, it was the miserable state of Lawrence’s marriage and his wife’s inability to give him a child that had led to his brother’s heavy drinking and ultimate demise. Alex was determined not to let that happen to him.

He had come home after Waterloo to find his mother in mourning, his sister-in-law run off with her latest lover and the estate struggling to pay its way. But he’d be damned if he’d marry for money, which was what the family lawyer had suggested. He had taken over Lawrence’s mantle, but he was determined not to fall into the same trap his brother had. If he ever married, and he was certainly in no hurry to do so, he would need to be very, very sure…

‘So, what are you doing in London?’ Maddox’s voice interrupted his reverie.

‘I had business to transact.’ He had to bring the Buregreen estate back into profit, but, since his father had never allowed him to have anything to do with the business of running it, he knew next to nothing about how it could be done and he needed the help of a good steward. He had come to London with that in mind and had already engaged a man who had been recommended by his lawyer. ‘And my mother had an idea a little town bronze…’ he added with a wry smile.

‘Then why not come to Almack’s with me on Wednesday? It’s the place to be seen if you’re hanging out for a wife. We could take a peep at Sir George’s stepdaughter.’

‘I am not hanging out for a wife. I would as lief not marry at all.’

‘But every man must marry,’ Maddox said. ‘Any man of substance, that is. It is his duty to find himself a wife to carry on the line, someone from a good family of equal rank and with an impeccable reputation. That is of prime importance. Of course, it helps if she is also decorative…’

‘Duty?’ Alex queried. ‘I did my duty as a soldier.’

‘So you may have done, but there are other kinds of duty, don’t you know? What would happen to all the great country estates if there were no sons to inherit? They’d go to distant cousins, that’s what, and eventually be dispersed. Who would run the country then, eh? Mushrooms, jumped-up cits, men without an ounce of breeding. It wouldn’t do, my dear fellow, it simply would not do.’

Alex had heard that argument from both his mother and aunt since he had come back from Waterloo. ‘I did not expect to inherit, I wasn’t brought up even to think of it. And what I’ve seen of marriage does not dispose me towards venturing into it.’

‘You sound as if you have been bitten, my friend.’

‘Not me, but I have seen what can happen. Misery for both.’

‘So you won’t come to Almack’s?’

‘The only time I went to Almack’s, back in my green days, I hated it. It was too stiff and formal, all that dressing up in breeches and silk stockings and not a decent drink to be had. Besides, I can’t. I have a prior engagement. I promised my aunt I would accompany her to Lady Melbourne’s soirée.’

Maddox laughed. ‘That sounds as exciting as drinking ditchwater.’

‘A promise is a promise and it will be preferable to standing in line with a crowd of young hopefuls, dressed like a popinjay, hoping to be noticed. I am too long in the tooth for that. Besides, the chits who are paraded at places like Almack’s are too young and silly for my taste. And if you have some crazy notion to throw me in the way of Sir George’s stepdaughter, then I advise you to put it from your mind. I have no intention of shackling myself to someone I have never met and do not know just to give you something to dine on for the rest of the Season. It would be the worst possible start to a marriage.’

‘I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort. It was curiosity, that’s all, just to see what she’s like. Why, a man would be a fool to jump into matrimony because he felt sorry for the girl. She might turn out to be a real harridan.’

‘Quite,’ Alex said, thinking of Lawrence. ‘Away with you to your bed, young ’un. I am going home to mine.’

They parted on the corner of Mount Street and Alex strode down its length to the house on the corner of Park Lane where he was staying with his aunt, Lady Augusta Banks. He was very fond of his aunt, but he knew she had been asked by his mother to help him find a wife and she was determined to discharge that commission to the best of her ability. Already she was planning to put him in the way of every unmarried young lady in town, but searching for a life partner in that cold-blooded way went so much against the grain he had not been co-operative. It was why he had gone to Brooks’s, in order to escape yet another soirée, although he had promised to escort her to Lady Melbourne’s. There were often men in government in her ladyship’s drawing room and he had a mind to sound some of them out about a pet project of his.

He wanted to do something to help discharged soldiers coming home from the war without employment, which had been on his mind even before he became the new Viscount. It was employment they needed, not charity, and his idea was to set up workshops and small manufactories and provide them with tools so that they could make their own way and provide for their families. He could not do it alone, which was why he wanted to talk to men with influence. If he took his place in the Lords, he might be able to make a noise about the scandalous way the men had been treated. They were in dire need, which was something that could not be said of a chit worth thirty thousand a year.

Nevertheless, it was a long time before he could sleep, though he blamed it on the noises in the street from the increased morning’s traffic in the road outside his window as the business of the day progressed.




Chapter One


Lady Emma Lindsay looked at herself in the mirror, not out of vanity but simply to assure herself that the gown she wore would pass muster. It was made in pale blue mousseline de soie, with tiny puffed sleeves, a deep boat-shaped neckline edged with a darker blue satin ribbon, and a high waist marked by the same ribbon. The skirt stopped just short of her feet and revealed satin slippers. Her maid had arranged her dark brown hair à la Grecque, held with a coronet of tiny silk flowers.

‘There! You look very fine indeed,’ Rose said, as she helped Emma on with her velvet cape, handed her a fan decorated with a woodland scene and stood back, smiling at the picture she had helped to create. ‘You will have all the eligibles falling at your feet.’

‘Too late, Rose, too late. I shall soon be one and twenty, almost at my last prayers.’ She was unusually tall, but then all the Lindsays were tall, so it was hardly surprising. What with her height and her age, she despaired of finding a husband, at least not one she could love for himself and who would love her for the woman she was. And that was the problem. It was not finding a husband because her dowry was enough to ensure that, but finding the one to set her heart beating faster. Did such a man exist?

Mama said love did not come into it and she should not consider it, that a fortune and a pleasant temperament were of far more use, which was strange considering Mama had married again less than two years after losing her first husband and Sir George Tasker had neither a fortune nor a pleasant temperament.

Emma had been preparing for her come-out in the spring of 1813, when her father, Earl Lindsay, died suddenly and threw her into deep mourning. Naturally her trip to London had to be cancelled, but in truth Emma, grieving for her dear papa, had been in no mood for frivolity and had been content to spend her time quietly in the country at Pinehill, the family home in Hertfordshire. But one morning a year later, woken by bird song and the sun streaming through her bedroom window, she had suddenly realised that spring had arrived and life was passing her by and she ought to do something about it.

Mama must have had the same thought, because later that day, she had suggested taking Emma to London for her delayed coming out. The Duke of Ranworth, her mother’s brother, had offered them the use of Ranworth House in Hanover Square and they had done the rounds, attending balls and tea parties, but in the end it had not been Emma who found a husband but the dowager herself, though calling Mama a dowager was a jest, considering she had not been above forty at the time and still comely.

‘Lady Emma, that’s just the right age to be,’ Rose said, answering her last comment. ‘Though you are still young and beautiful, you are past the age of being thought an empty-headed schoolgirl that no one need take seriously. Some gentlemen would value your maturity.’

Emma laughed. ‘Thank you, Rose. What would I do without you? It is ridiculous when you think that a lady is not expected to dress herself, to do her own hair, or allowed to go out alone. But it is not only the dressing and looking after my clothes I value you for, it is having someone to talk to. I can say anything I like to you.’

‘My lady, I am sure you would manage.’ She paused and then took a deep breath before going on. ‘My lady, I have to give notice. My mother is having another baby and she needs me to look after the other little ones. There are seven now.’

Emma sank down on to the bed and stared up at her maid, who had been part of her life ever since she could remember. Rose had been a parlour maid at Pinehill, but as soon as Emma had become old enough to have a maid of her own, the girl had been promoted to lady’s maid. She was more than a servant, she was a friend. ‘Oh, Rose, of course you must go, but I shall miss you terribly. How long do you think you will be away?’

‘My lady, my mother is almost past childbearing age and this time she has found it very difficult carrying. I think she will need me to stay. I am sorry, my lady, truly I am. I do not want to leave you, but I must.’

‘I understand, Rose, of course I do.’ How selfish men were, Emma decided, determined to have their conjugal rights no matter what the consequences to their poor wives, but she did not say it aloud because she knew Rose loved her father—besides, it was not considered a suitable subject for a young unmarried lady to air. ‘When will you go?’

‘At the end of the week if that is convenient to you, my lady.’

‘My convenience is not important, Rose, I would never keep you from your mother. Go and look after her, I shall manage.’ She stood up. ‘Now, I must be off or we shall be late.’

Hurrying downstairs, Emma found her mother and Sir George waiting for her in the drawing room. Her mother, in a becoming gown of rose-pink taffeta, was looking unhappy, her face pale and eyes bright with unshed tears. Sir George, arrayed in a mulberry evening coat, an embroidered waistcoat, white silk breeches and silk stockings, was standing with his back to the hearth, his mouth set in a thin line of annoyance. There was a tension in the air, which immediately communicated itself to Emma.

‘About time too!’ Sir George said.

‘Goodness, child, whatever do you do up there to take so long to dress?’ her mother asked more mildly. She had once been upright and sprightly, but age and being cowed by her demanding second husband seemed to have diminished her.

‘I’m sorry, Mama, but I was talking to Rose. She wants to leave.’

‘Why? Whatever have you done to her?’

‘Nothing, Mama. She has to go and look after her brothers and sisters. Her mother is enceinte again.’

‘Well, there’s nothing to be done about it tonight,’ Sir George snapped. ‘You can send her packing in the morning.’

‘In the morning?’ Emma queried. ‘She is prepared to stay until the end of the week.’

‘No doubt she would like to, but it is my experience that servants under notice are worse than useless; they do no work, undermine the morale of the others and use every opportunity to steal…’

‘Rose is not like that,’ Emma protested. ‘She is honest and loyal.’

‘So you may think, but it is my rule that when a servant expresses a wish to leave, they are turned off immediately.’ He turned to his wife. ‘You will see she goes tomorrow. Now, the carriage is waiting. If we are not careful, we shall be the last to arrive and I particularly wanted to be there on time. There is someone I wish you to meet.’

‘Oh?’ Had he tired of waiting for her to accept an offer of marriage and found a husband for her? She waited to be enlightened.

‘Lord Bentwater.’

‘I do not think I know the gentleman.’

‘No, of course you do not or I would not be going to the trouble of introducing you.’

‘And what am I to make of this gentleman?’ She spoke coolly because she would not let him intimidate her as he intimidated her mother; if he expected her to fall into the arms of one of his disreputable friends, then he was going to be disappointed. She was not so desperate to marry that she would accept anyone in breeches. In fact, she was not desperate at all. Her mother’s miserable second marriage was enough to put anyone off.

‘You may make of him what you will, miss. What is more to the point is what he makes of you. Come, now, the horses will be growing restive.’ Followed meekly by his wife and an exasperated Emma, he set off down the hall, where the front door was opened by a liveried footman. A few short steps and he was at the carriage where he stood to one side as one of the grooms opened the door for the ladies to enter. Sir George seated himself opposite them and gave the order to proceed.

Although Almack’s was almost certainly the most exclusive club in London, it could hardly be called grand. Lit by gas, the ballroom was enormous, made to look even larger by the huge mirrors and a series of gilt columns. Other smaller rooms were used for supper and cards. The Patronesses who presided over the weekly balls during the Season made sure only the best people attended and that everyone behaved themselves. It was here young ladies were paraded before the eligible bachelors in the hope of finding a husband. Emma thought it unbearably boring and could not understand why her stepfather should suddenly take it into his head to attend. Except for that hint about someone he wanted her to meet. She was curious, but not hopeful.

As soon as they arrived Sir George disappeared in the direction of the card room and Emma and her mother wandered into the ballroom, where the sumptuous gowns of the ladies and the richness of the gentlemen’s coats formed a shifting rainbow of colour as they walked and gesticulated and preened themselves between dances. Spotting Lady Standon and her daughter, Harriet, they crossed the room to join them.

Harriet, a year younger than Emma, had recently become engaged to Frederick Graysmith, lawyer and Member of Parliament. He was likeable enough, but there seemed to be no fire in him. He would be safe but dull as a husband. Emma decided she wanted more than that. She wanted excitement and passion and a little something extra, though she could not define it. All she knew was that she would recognise it when it came. If it came. And if it did not, would she be able to settle for second best? She had a dreadful feeling that her stepfather was about to try to force a match on her and, if Lord Bentwater was anything like Sir George, she knew she would not like him.

‘Emma, I had no idea you would be coming tonight,’ Harriet said, her brown eyes bright with excitement. She was dressed in buttercup yellow, which contrasted well with her dark hair.

‘It was Sir George’s idea,’ she said. ‘He says there’s someone he wants me to meet and it must be important, for he insisted on buying me a new gown for the occasion.’ She looked round to see her mother deep in conversation with Lady Standon and lowered her voice. ‘We had such a rush to find something in the time available.’

‘It is very becoming,’ Harriet said, stepping back to appraise her friend. ‘You mean he is matchmaking?’

‘If he is, I cannot think what is behind it. I’m not sure I shall like it.’

‘Being married? Oh, surely you do not mean to be an old maid.’

‘It would be better than enduring an unhappy marriage, don’t you think? Once the deed is done, there’s no going back on it.’

‘I know that. But why should your marriage be unhappy? I set my heart on Freddie from the moment I met him and I know we shall deal well together.’

‘Then I wish you happy.’

‘Oh, I am sure I will be. The wedding is to be in June. I know it is very soon, but we have to be back from our wedding tour by the time Parliament reconvenes after the summer recess. You will be one of my attendants, won’t you?’

‘I shall be delighted, if Mama says I may.’

‘I would be even happier if I thought you were suited too. Do take advantage of the dancing. Almost every eligible in town is here. I am sure if you tried you could find someone.’

Emma laughed. That seemed to be all that mattered: the thrill of the chase, the announcement of the engagement and later the wedding with half the haut monde in attendance. But that was only one year—what about all the years afterwards, the children, the problems of motherhood, the steadily growing older? If the man you had married was the wrong one, it would be purgatory. ‘Oh, I am sure I could, but how would I know he was not after my fortune?’

‘Does that matter, if he is in every other way suitable?’

‘Tall, you mean.’ It was said with a laugh.

‘Yes, but more than that, surely? He must be amiable and considerate and have no bad vices, like womanising and gambling.’

‘How right you are, especially about the gambling. I could never marry a man who gambled, however suitable he might otherwise be.’ It was Sir George’s gambling that was the cause of most of her mother’s distress and that had entrenched in her a deep abhorrence of the vice, for vice it was. ‘But do you know of such a paragon?’

‘No, except Freddie, of course. But no doubt he has a friend…’

‘Don’t you dare!’

‘I was only trying to help.’

‘I know you were.’ Emma was contrite. ‘I did not mean to hurt your feelings, but I am not going to allow myself to be thrown to the wolves without a fight.’ She wasn’t thinking of Freddie’s friend so much as her stepfather. Just what was his game? He had never shown the slightest interest in her before, except to complain to her mother that she was too lenient with her.

‘Why must you fight?’

‘Because that’s my nature. Give me a challenge and I will rise to it. Tell me I must do something and I will refuse, tell me I cannot and I will most decidedly attempt it.’

‘Then I pity any husband of yours and perhaps I shan’t ask Freddie to introduce you to his friend after all. He would not thank me.’ She paused and nodded towards a young man making his way towards them. ‘Here comes Freddie, so I’ll leave you to enjoy yourself.’

Emma danced with several young gentlemen, none of whom set her heart racing, but she was honest enough to admit she did nothing to encourage them and they must have found her extremely dull. It was not like her to be so ungracious, but she could not concentrate on her partners when her mind was filled with the prospect of meeting Lord Bentwater. Who was he? What was he like? What was to be done if she took him in aversion? Perhaps, after all, he would be young and attractive and she was worrying for nothing. Or perhaps he would not turn up.

Her latest partner took her back to where her mother sat, bowed to them both and disappeared. ‘Who was that?’ her mother asked. ‘It was not Lord Bentwater, was it?’

Emma turned towards her in surprise. ‘Have you not met him?’

‘No.’

‘Then what is your husband about? Surely he has confided in you?’

‘He wishes to see you settled. As I do, dearest.’ It was said quietly, but Emma knew that her mother was not at all happy about it.

‘Am I to have no say in the matter at all?’

‘Oh, Emma, please do not be difficult. George tells me the gentleman is in every way suitable…’

‘Do you know, Mama, I cannot help wondering what Sir George is expecting to gain by it.’

If her mother intended to enlighten her, she did not do so because Harriet returned on Freddie’s arm and after he had bowed and left them, they sat chatting about the young men who were present, none of whom matched up to Freddie in Harriet’s eyes. As for Emma, she could not take any of them seriously. They were either dressed in the exaggerated fashion of the tulip, too young, too short or too old. Was Lord Bentwater among them and, if so, which was he?

‘Harriet, do you know who that man is, talking to my stepfather?’

‘I believe his name is Mr Jeremy Maddox. Don’t tell me he has taken your fancy.’

‘Goodness, Harriet, you do not think I have developed a tendre for someone I have only seen at a distance, do you? And he’s a dandy if ever I saw one. I was curious, that’s all. I thought he might be Lord Bentwater.’

Harriet laughed. ‘Good heavens, no! Why did you think it was him?’

‘I didn’t, particularly. My stepfather is set upon introducing me to Lord Bentwater and I am expected to be amiable. I am curious to know what he looks like…’

‘Bentwater! Oh, Emma, he does not expect you to marry that old roué, does he? He is fifty if he is a day and has gone through three wives already and not one has managed to produce an heir. I hear he is desperate. You cannot possibly consider him.’

‘Then I shan’t.’ She spoke firmly, but they both knew it would not be as easy as that. Perhaps Harriet had been exaggerating or perhaps there was more than one Lord Bentwater.



She realised her friend had not been exaggerating when her stepfather tapped her on the shoulder a little later in the evening. ‘Emma, may I present Lord Bentwater. Bentwater, my stepdaughter, Lady Emma Lindsay.’

‘My lady, your obedient.’ He made a flourishing leg, bowing low over it, giving her time to appraise him. He was taller than she was by an inch, but that was all she could find in his favour. He was thin as a lathe, with sharp features and black brows. His coat and breeches were of black silk, his black waistcoat was embroidered with silver; his calves, in white silk stockings, were plumped out with padding. Emma was reminded of a predatory spider and shivered with a terrible apprehension. Surely her stepfather did not expect her to marry this man?

He was looking her up and down, taking in every detail of her face and figure, and she longed to tell him she was not a brood mare being trotted out for his inspection, but knew that would be unpardonably rude; for her mother’s sake, she resisted the impulse and met his gaze unflinchingly. She curtsied. ‘My lord.’

He offered his hand. ‘Shall we dance, my lady?’

She accompanied him on to the floor where they joined an eightsome. The steps were intricate and they were never close enough to permit a conversation, but she was aware as she moved up and down, across and sideways, that he was looking at her all the time, even when he was executing steps with another of the ladies. How uncomfortable he made her feel! At the end of the dance, she curtsied and he bowed and offered his arm to promenade.

‘My lady, you must learn to unbend,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You are as stiff as a corpse and I would not like to think you are unhappy in my company.’

‘My lord, I am neither happy nor unhappy and as the dance has ended, you do not have to endure my company any longer.’

‘There, my dear, you are wrong. It is my earnest wish that we shall be often in each other’s company in future. Every day. Has your papa not told you of my intent?’

‘My father, my lord, is dead. And if you refer to my mother’s husband, then, no, he has not.’

‘No doubt he left it for me to do so after we had spoken together.’ When she did not reply, he went on with an oily smile. ‘You are a haughty one, to be sure, but that can be made a virtue, so long as your haughtiness is aimed at those beneath you and not your husband…’

‘My lord, I have no husband.’

‘Not yet. But the deficiency may soon be rectified. The details have yet to be settled with Sir George, but I think you understand me.’

‘You are offering for me?’

‘Yes. The offer has been made and accepted.’

‘Not by me, it has not.’

‘That is by the by. First things first. I have received the proper permission from your guardian to approach you and I shall call on you tomorrow when we will tie the thing up nice and tight.’

She stopped and turned to face him, drawing herself up and taking a deep breath. ‘Lord Bentwater, I am aware of the honour you do me, but I must decline. We should not suit.’

He threw back his head and laughed so that one or two people close by stopped their chattering to turn towards them. ‘You suit me very well and it suits Sir George to give you to me…’

‘Give me?’ She was shaking with nerves and seething with anger. How could he assume she would meekly give in? He was a dreadful man. He was older than her stepfather, he had small currant eyes and bad teeth, and his manner was arrogant and self-satisfied. The very idea of being married to him repelled her. ‘Why does it suit Sir George?’

He drew his lips back over his yellow teeth in a mockery of a smile. ‘Let us say that he has his reasons for wishing to accommodate me.’

Emma realised he had a hold over Sir George and she guessed it was something to do with money. She was being sold! ‘My mother will never sanction such a thing.’

‘Lady Tasker will obey her husband as every good wife does. Now, my dear…’ Again that awful smile. ‘Let us not quarrel. I shall not be a bad husband, not if you please me…’

‘But you do not please me, Lord Bentwater. I bid you good evening.’ She broke away from him and went to sit beside her mother. ‘Mama, you wanted to know which of the gentlemen was Lord Bentwater and now I can point him out. He is that black spider over there, laughing with Sir George, no doubt over me. He tells me he has bought me—’

‘Bought you, child?’

‘Yes, bought me. I do not know what he has given, or promised to give, your husband for me, but I tell you now, nothing on earth will persuade me to take that rude, arrogant scarecrow for a husband.’

‘Oh, Emma,’ her mother said with a heavy sigh. ‘There will be the most dreadful trouble, if you do not.’

‘Why? What has Sir George said to you?’

‘He says he cannot afford to cross Lord Bentwater, that the man has it in his power to ruin us, though George will not tell me how or why. All he says—and he says it over and over again—is that without this match we will live in penury, his reputation will be ruined and we won’t be able to lift our heads in society again. I think it must be a gambling debt, I can think of nothing else.’

‘Mama, surely it cannot be your wish that I marry that man?’

‘No, of course not. I have argued until I am spent, but George is adamant.’ Lady Tasker sighed heavily. ‘If only your papa were alive…’

‘You would not be married to Sir George Tasker, would you?’ Emma said with unanswerable logic. ‘Why did you marry him, Mama?’

‘I was lonely and in all my life I have never had to manage alone. My father, the late Duke, looked after me and my affairs until he handed me over to your father when I was seventeen and he carried on as my father had done. I never had to think of anything for myself and, when your papa died, I had no idea how to go on. Sir George was charming and understanding. Even now, when he is in a good mood…’ She stopped and gazed across the room where her husband was enjoying a jest with Lord Bentwater. ‘I dare not cross him.’

Emma gave up the conversation, knowing she would get nowhere with it. And now she was torn in two because it was obvious that if she was adamant in her refusal to marry Bentwater, her mother would suffer for it. Sir George would not beat his wife, he had too much pride for that, but there were other ways of punishing her: subtle verbal cruelty, forbidding her to receive her friends or call on them, taking away her pin money so that she could go nowhere, buy nothing, without petitioning him first. It had happened before when her mother displeased him and Emma loved her mother dearly and could not bear to think of her suffering in that way. ‘Mama, if you say I must, I must, but I shall do it with a heavy heart and I promise you I shall not be an obedient wife.’

‘Perhaps it will not come to that,’ her mother said hopefully. ‘George might relent.’

The music resumed and another partner came to claim Emma and she was not called upon to answer. She went off and danced with the young man, a fixed smile on her face. She even managed to make one or two witty comments about the music and the company, but inside her heart was heavy as lead. If only she could find a way out without hurting her mother. If only she could find her own husband, she could tell the odious Lord Bentwater she was already promised. She smiled a little at her own foolishness. If she hadn’t found one in the two years since her come-out, she was unlikely to find one now.

She was about to return to her mother when she saw Sir George returning to her with Lord Bentwater in tow. She turned about and went to the retiring room, where she sat on the stool before the mirror and looked at herself, as if she could find the answer to her problems in her reflection. ‘You are on your own,’ she told the strained face that stared out at her. ‘You cannot depend upon your mama to support you and Sir George is quite capable of dragging you to the altar. And who can you confide in? Not your mother, for she is too afraid of her husband. Not Rose, who is anxious about her own mother and leaving you in any case. There is Harriet, but Harriet is thinking about nothing but her wedding and who can blame her? There is no one.’

Sighing heavily, she returned to the ballroom and put on a brave smile, which she kept in place even when Lord Bentwater came to claim her for a second dance and spoke and behaved as if she had already accepted him. This was reinforced on the journey home, when Sir George told her that he expected her to accept the very next day. ‘You are well past marriageable age,’ he said. ‘It is time you settled down and I can think of no one who will serve you better than Cecil Bentwater. He is wealthy enough, even for you. My God, there must be dozens of young ladies who would jump at the chance…’

‘Then let him choose one of those.’

‘He has favoured you, though I do wonder if he knows what a hoyden he is taking on.’ And he gave a harsh laugh.

‘Perhaps you should enlighten him.’

‘Oh, I have, but he tells me he enjoys a challenge and there is no gainsaying him.’

‘But, sir, I do not, cannot, love him.’

‘Love!’ He scoffed. ‘Love has nothing to do with it. You do not have to live in each other’s pockets and, in truth, it would look strange if you did. Husbands and wives lead their own lives, have their own friends and pursuits to keep them occupied and Lord Bentwater would not expect anything else from you, except to do your wifely duty and give him an heir. Once that is done, you may please yourself, so long as you are discreet. Discretion is the name of the game, not love. If you remember that, you will deal very well together.’

The idea revolted her. ‘I cannot believe that all marriages are like that. Mama and Papa—’

‘Enough!’ he said, not wishing to be reminded of his saintly predecessor. ‘You will marry Lord Bentwater and that is my last word on the subject.’

Emma felt her mother’s hand creep into her own and squeeze it and she fell silent for the rest of the journey.



It was three in the morning before she went to her bed, but even so Rose was waiting to help her to undress. Rose was sturdy, clean and tidy, with light brown hair pulled back into her cap and a neat waist encircled by a snowy apron over a grey cambric dress. ‘I shall miss you when you go, Rose,’ she said, as the girl helped her out of her ball gown.

‘And I shall miss you, my lady.’

‘Do you like being a lady’s maid?’ she asked, watching Rose deftly fold the gown and lay it carefully in the chest at the foot of her bed.

‘Oh, yes, my lady, it is cut above other house servants.’

‘What is it like?’

‘Like, my lady?’ Rose queried, puzzled. ‘Why, you know my duties as well as I do.’

‘I did not mean your duties, I meant the life, how you feel about it. Do you not hate being at someone’s beck and call all the time?’

‘We all have to work, my lady, unless we’re gentlefolk, that is, and I would as lief work as a lady’s maid as anything else. You have a certain standing among the others. If you have a good mistress such as you are, my lady, you are treated kindly, fed and clothed and paid well, and there are the perks. You often give me gowns you have tired of and when you are from home and do not need me, I have only light duties such as cleaning and pressing your clothes and tidying your room…’

Emma managed a light laugh, though she felt more like weeping. ‘Oh, I know I am not the tidiest person in the world.’ She paused. ‘But don’t you resent being given orders?’

‘No, why should I? It is the way of things.’

‘But if they go counter to your own inclinations?’

‘My inclinations, my lady, do not count. But why are you asking all these questions?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It is because you are leaving me, I suppose. And I wonder how I shall manage without you.’

‘Your mama will find you someone else.’

‘No doubt, but it won’t be the same. And what makes it worse is that my stepfather has found a husband for me…’ She paused while Rose undid her petticoats, picking them up when she kicked them off. ‘He is the most odious man imaginable and how am I to bear it without you?’

‘I am sorry, Miss Emma, indeed I am. If I could help you, I would.’

But it was not Rose or her replacement who filled her thoughts when her nightgown was pulled over her head and she settled between the sheets, but the dilemma she faced over Lord Bentwater. She lay wide awake, going over and over in her mind what had happened, wondering what it was that made her stepfather so anxious she should obey him. It had to be money; Lord Bentwater had as good as told her so. Could she buy her way out? But she did not have the spending of her money and her trustees would take the advice of Sir George, especially if her mother agreed with him. Mama would not dare to defy him. Rose’s words—‘my inclinations…do not count’—came back to her. It certainly seemed to be true of the mistress at that moment.

She could run away, but that would break her mother’s heart; besides, if she just disappeared, Mama would have half the ton out looking for her, not to mention Runners and constables and it would not be fair to worry her so. And it would make no difference in the long run; she would be hauled back in disgrace and she was quite sure it would not put Lord Bentwater off, for hadn’t Sir George said the man enjoyed a challenge? It was almost dawn before she fell into a restless sleep and then her dreams were of huge black spiders and struggling in a sticky web from which she could not escape.



It seemed she had barely closed her eyes when a hand shook her awake again. ‘Sweetheart, wake up.’

She woke with a half-scream; the nightmare had been very real, but it was her mother standing over her with a lighted candle. She was wearing a dressing gown over her nightgown and her hair hung loosely about her shoulders. ‘Shh, not so loud, my love.’

‘What’s wrong, Mama? What time is it?’

‘Just after five o’clock.’

‘Five! Couldn’t you sleep?’

‘No.’ She sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Emma, I cannot let you go to that dreadful man. You must leave. Now, before George wakes up.’

‘But where will we go?’

‘We? I cannot go with you, child. My place is with my husband.’

‘I cannot leave you. I want to escape that dreadful man, but the thought of leaving you behind is not to be borne.’

‘You must. If we both go, we shall attract attention and George will find us and make us come back. It must look as though you have gone alone. I shall deny all knowledge of your intentions.’ She opened Emma’s wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. ‘I’ve spoken to Rose and she has agreed to go with you. As soon as you are safe arrived, she can go to her mother. If George asks to question her, I shall tell him I obeyed his instructions and turned her off.’ She was throwing garments on the bed as she spoke. ‘There is nothing suitable here. You cannot go dressed as a lady, that would be asking for someone to become suspicious and if it becomes known Sir George is looking for you, especially if he offers a reward, you will soon be brought back.’

‘Mama, do stop throwing my clothes about and come and sit down again. Where am I to go and how will I travel? And how will you know I am safe?’

Lady Tasker sat down and took her daughter’s hands. ‘You will go by stage to a very old friend of mine who lives in Kendal in Cumbria. Her name is Mrs Amelia Summers. I have had no correspondence with her since I remarried and Sir George knows nothing about her, so he will not think of her. I have no money for a hired chaise and besides, like elegant clothes, it would only cause comment. I will give you all the money I have and the pearls your father left for your twenty-first birthday. George knows nothing about them. I’ve kept them hidden. You’ll have to sell them or perhaps pawn them. You never know, we might have a stroke of luck and be able to redeem them.’

Emma realised that would only come about if Sir George became ill and died, but, as he was disgustingly healthy and never exerted himself, that prospect seemed far distant. ‘Mama, I am not at all sure I should agree to this.’

‘Do you want to marry that dreadful man?’

‘You know I do not. But I am afraid for you.’

‘Sir George will not harm me. There is no other way and we are wasting time.’ She handed Emma an envelope. ‘Here is the letter to Mrs Summers and here, in this purse, is the necklace and twenty guineas. I have no more, but it should be enough for your fares and for Rose’s return fare, with some over.’

‘Mama, I can’t—’

‘Please do not argue, Emma. It has taken all my resolve to come to this and I want you to go. When you are safe arrived, write to Lady Standon, not me. You had better have a pseudonym and one Sir George will never guess. Say the first thing that comes into your head…’

She looked about her, noticed the bed curtains and promptly said. ‘Draper. Miss Fanny Draper.’

‘Good. When you write to Lady Standon, be circumspect.’ She stood up, ‘Now I am going to send Rose to you. She might have something suitable for you to wear.’

She left the room, leaving Emma shaking with the enormity of the undertaking. She had never travelled anywhere alone before and never on a public coach. But it was not so much that that made her hesitate, it was the thought of leaving her mother. But perhaps it would not be for long. Perhaps Sir George, when he realised how determined she was, would relent and she could come home again. She left her bed and poured cold water from the jug on her washstand into a bowl and washed her face.

She was brushing her hair when Rose crept into the room. ‘I’ve brought a dress of mine for you to wear on the journey,’ she whispered. ‘But you had better take a few garments of your own for when you arrive. I’ll pack them while you dress. We can’t take more than a carpet bag, considering we will have to carry it.’

‘Rose, am I doing the right thing?’

‘Yes. Now do not trouble yourself over the rights and wrongs of it, for the wrong is all with Sir George. We must hurry before the rest of the house stirs.’ She finished the packing and turned to look at Emma. A little giggle escaped from her. ‘Who is to say who is mistress and who servant now?’

‘I cannot get into your shoes.’

‘Then you must wear your own. It won’t matter.’ She picked up a cloak that had seen better days. ‘Here, put this on, the morning is chilly.’ She draped it over Emma’s shoulders and buttoned the neck. ‘It’s shabby, but that’s all to the good, we don’t want you recognised, do we? Come on, let’s be off.’

‘But I must say goodbye to Mama.’

‘She is waiting in the kitchen. We will go out of the back door.’ She picked up the carpet bag, opened the door and peered up and down the corridor. ‘All clear,’ she whispered.

The farewell she bade her mother was tearful on both sides, but could not be prolonged in case Sir George woke and came in search of his wife. ‘Go now,’ her mother said, giving her a little push towards the outside door. ‘God keep you and bless you. Rose, look after her, won’t you?’

‘I’ll do my best, my lady.’ She turned to Emma. ‘Come, my lady…No, that cannot be. What are you to be called?’

‘Fanny Draper.’

And so it was Lady Emma Lindsay who stepped out of Lindsay House, but Fanny Draper who linked her arm in Rose’s to walk to Lad Lane and the Swan with Two Necks.

‘How do you know where to catch the stage?’ Emma asked.

‘It is how I arrived when I came back after my mother’s last lying-in. There is nothing to it. We buy our tickets and climb aboard. I know it is not what you are used to, but think of it as an adventure. As long as no one perceives you for a lady, you should be safe enough. You will not mind if I treat you as an equal? It will look odd if I do not.’

‘No, of course I shall not mind. From this minute on, there is no Lady Emma, only a woman called Fanny.’

The Swan with Two Necks was a very busy inn, with coaches coming and going all the time, disgorging and taking on passengers. There was a small ticket office to one side of the building where the two girls were obliged to stand in line for their turn to be served. Waiting was torture and Emma began to worry that there would not be seats for them. And the longer they had to wait, the more likely it was that Sir George would discover her absence and send people out searching for her. The first place he would check would be the coaching inns.

She let Rose do the talking when they reached the little window. ‘Two inside seats to Kendal,’ she said.

‘No inside seats, miss. There’s two going on top. Three pounds ten shillings each and that takes you only as far as Manchester. You need another carrier to take you the rest of the way.’

Adventurous as she was, Emma could not view the prospect of travelling outside with equilibrium. ‘Oh dear, Rose, what are we to do? Is there another coach?’

‘Not to Manchester,’ the man said. ‘You can go to Chester from the Golden Cross.’

‘But we cannot be sure of getting to Kendal from there, can we?’ she whispered to Rose.

‘No. Perhaps if we take the outside seats, we will be able to change them later when we have gone a little way.’

‘Change them now.’

Emma swung round at the sound of the male voice, ready to take to her heels if he should prove to be an emissary of her stepfather’s. The man who faced her was at least a head taller than she was, but the rest of him was in perfect proportion: broad shoulders in a burgundy-coloured coat, slim hips, muscular legs in well-fitting pantaloons tucked into shining Hessians. She looked up into his face. His expression was proud, almost arrogant, and his startlingly blue eyes had a steely depth which indicated he was not used to being crossed. Or perhaps it was sadness; she could not be sure. He smiled and doffed his hat, revealing fair curly hair.

‘I beg your pardon.’ It was said haughtily. Ladies simply did not speak to men who had not been formally introduced.

‘Oh, no need to beg my pardon,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I can as easily ride outside as in.’

‘But, sir, there are two of us and only one of you.’

‘My man is travelling with me. We will both climb on top.’ He turned to a man who was supervising the stowing of luggage in the boot of the coach which was just then being loaded. ‘Joe, what have you done with our tickets?’

The man reached up to his hat where two tickets were stuck in the ribbon around the crown. ‘Here, my lord.’

Alex took them and handed them to Emma. ‘There, with my compliments. I will take the outside tickets offered to you.’

‘I am most grateful, sir.’

‘My pleasure. The passengers are being called to their seats. Is this your luggage?’ He pointed at Emma’s carpet bag and Rosie’s bundle.

‘Yes.’

‘Joe, stow them safely, will you? And then climb aboard. We are going to see the countryside from on high.’ He bowed to the girls, settled his hat back on his head and held the door for them to enter. ‘Perhaps we shall have an opportunity to speak when the coach stops for refreshments.’ He shut the door, took the outside tickets Rose had hurriedly paid for with the money Emma had given her earlier, and hardly had time to climb up beside his man before they were away.

Emma leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes. She had never felt less like sleeping, but she wanted to collect her scattered wits. It was a little over two hours since her mother had woken her and here she was on the greatest adventure of her life. If she had not been so worried about Mama and what might be happening back at Lindsay House, she might have been looking forward to it.




Chapter Two


The other two passengers taking the inside seats were a young man and his wife who sat holding hands and smiling shyly at each other. They posed no threat and Emma allowed herself to relax.

‘He is a handsome man, is he not?’ Rose commented in a whisper.

‘Who?’

‘The man who gave us his tickets. Did you hear his servant call him “my lord”?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wonder who he is. You do not know him, do you?’

‘No, thank goodness. The last thing I want is to meet someone known to me.’ ‘All the same, it was good of him to give up his seats for us.’

‘Indeed it was. I am sorry I had no time to thank him properly, nor did I offer to pay the difference in the price.’

‘No doubt you will have the opportunity when the coach stops for us to take refreshment.’

‘I shall make a point of it.’



They stopped every fourteen miles to have the horses changed, but the passengers remained in their seats for this operation which only took two or three minutes. It was half past ten and they had been on the road just over two hours when the coach pulled in at the Peahen in St Albans and the coachman invited his passengers to partake of breakfast.

Emma and Rose left the coach and stood in the yard, looking at the inn which had a decidedly unpretentious appearance. Emma, who had never been inside an inn before, was reluctant to enter it, but as it was imperative that she find somewhere to relieve herself, she ducked her head under its low lintel, followed by Rose.

Having made themselves more comfortable in a room set aside for ladies, they found their way to the dining room, where the chivalrous lord and his servant were breakfasting together. Normally this would have struck Emma as strange, but as the whole adventure was out of the ordinary and she herself was travelling with her maid on an equal footing, she paid no heed to it, but approached the pair with a confident step.

‘My lord, I am in your debt.’

Alex looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time. Here was a very tall young lady, scrupulously clean but dressed in a somewhat shabby cloak, beneath which could be seen a striped cotton skirt in two shades of grey. Her hair was almost concealed by a plain straw bonnet tied on with ribbon. But it was not the clothes that commanded his attention, but the strikingly beautiful face. It was a perfect oval, the skin creamy and unblemished. The strong chin, straight nose, wide violet eyes and arched brows were too refined to belong to a servant and the confident way she spoke seemed to confirm she was other than she looked. The slightly high colour of her cheeks betrayed a certain nervousness. He was intrigued.

‘Not at all,’ he said, standing out of politeness, something a real servant would have thought strange, but she seemed to accept it as her due. ‘My pleasure, ma’am.’

It was not often she had to look up to a man, but she did so now. ‘But inside seats cost more than those on the outside, my lord.’

‘A mere fribble. Think nothing of it.’

‘At least tell me to whom I am indebted.’

Oh, that was not the speech of an ill-educated commoner. He smiled. ‘I thought perhaps you knew. You addressed me as “my lord”.’

‘I heard your servant address you thus.’

She was observant too, and quick. ‘So he does, but not always. He has been known to be forgetful and call me Major. I answer as readily to either. Let me introduce myself, seeing there is no one else to do the office. I am Viscount Malvers, one-time Major in the Norfolk Regiment of Foot, at your service.’ He bowed as he would to a lady. She did not seem in the least surprised by this, prompting him to add, ‘May I know your name?’

Emma felt Rose dig her in the ribs, reminding her of her new identity. ‘Oh, I’m no one of any importance at all,’ she said, trying to affect a silly giggle which sounded false in her ears. She decided not to try it again. ‘I am Fanny Draper.’

‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Draper,’ he said, bowing again. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

‘Not yet.’ She looked about her. All the tables seemed to be full and there were only two waiters dashing between them. ‘Perhaps we shall not bother.’

‘Then please do join me.’ And when she appeared to hesitate, added, ‘Your companion too. You cannot travel for hours without sustenance and it will be some time before we stop again. You will find I can command a more assiduous service than most.’ And with that he clicked his fingers at a passing waiter, who instantly left whatever he had been going to do and approached him. ‘Breakfast for the ladies,’ Alex told him. ‘Coffee, ham, eggs, toasted bread and butter, and be quick about it. Time is pressing.’

Rose laughed and it was Emma’s turn to nudge her with her elbow. She stopped instantly and they took the other two seats at the table and were soon enjoying a hearty breakfast. Emma was surprised how hungry she was. Perhaps it was the effect of the high emotion of the past few hours, or perhaps because she had missed supper at Almack’s while she had been in the ladies’ room contemplating her reflection and had eaten nothing since six o’clock the previous evening.

Alex watched her, a faint smile playing about his lips. ‘Do you travel beyond Manchester, Miss Draper?’

The last thing she wanted was to be quizzed on her destination, but she could hardly refuse to answer without appearing uncivil. ‘Yes, we are going to the Lake District.’

‘What a happy coincidence. So am I. Which lake in particular?’

‘I am not sure there is a lake. I am to be met at Kendal to take up a position as companion to a lady.’ For a spur-of-the-moment answer she thought it did very well, though she prayed he would not ask any other questions. To prevent that, she asked one of her own. ‘Where are you bound, my lord?’

‘To Windermere. I have an uncle there. I used to stay with him when I was a boy, but it is many years since I visited him.’

‘I expect you were prevented by your being in the army.’

‘Yes. I was out of the country from ’09 to ’14 and I had barely been home six months when I was recalled to go to Waterloo.’

‘I believe that was a prodigious gory battle. I heard the Duke of Wellington called it a close-run thing.’

He smiled, knowing perfectly well what she was at and prepared to humour her. If he wanted his curiosity about her satisfied, he would have other opportunities. ‘Yes, he did and it was certainly that.’

‘Did you sustain any injury yourself?’

‘Fortunately, no.’

‘And now you are home again and ready to resume your civilian life. No doubt you find it strange.’

‘Indeed, I do. I am fortunate in having a home and occupation to return to. Many others are not so lucky.’

‘Occupation, my lord?’ she queried.

‘An estate to run. I have recently come into my inheritance.’

‘And is that in the Lakes?’

‘No, in Norfolk.’

‘You are a long way from home, my lord.’

He laughed. ‘Is that meant as a criticism, Miss Draper?’

She blushed furiously. ‘Oh, no, I would not dare…I beg your pardon. My mother always used to say I had too much curiosity.’

‘I forgive you. And so that you do not run away with the idea that I shirk my duty—’

‘Oh, I never would!’

‘I will tell you that my uncle is ill and wishes to see me. Once I have satisfied myself as to his return to good health, I shall go home.’

‘Not back to the London Season?’

‘No, I do not think so, I find it not to my taste.’ The evening before he had returned with his aunt from Lady Melbourne’s to find a message from his mother telling him his uncle, Admiral Lord Bourne, was very ill and wanted to see him. He had always been close to his Uncle Henry, closer than to his father, and had corresponded with him throughout his years in the army and so he had made preparations to take the early morning coach north. He had sent a message to his new steward to go at once to Buregreen to make a start on the work of the estate and written a letter to his mother telling her he was leaving for the north at once and would write again as soon as he arrived. Joe was told to pack and make sure he was awake in good time to catch the stage.

He did not need his own carriage while he was in London and staying with his aunt, so the family carriage had been left at Buregreen for his mother’s use and was not available. Besides, the stage, with its facility for the frequent changing of horses, would have him there all the quicker. He hadn’t bargained for riding outside, but he could hardly let two young women sit on the roof while he sat in comfort inside.

Both girls had finished eating, so he beckoned the waiter to pay the bill.

‘Oh, my lord, we cannot allow you to buy our breakfast, can we, Rose?’

Rose didn’t see why not, but she dutifully answered, ‘No, my—’ She stopped herself just in time and quickly added, ‘—Goodness, no.’

‘If you think I am such a pinchpenny as to invite two ladies to eat with me and then expect them to pay, you are mistaken, madam.’

‘And if you think I am to be bought, then you are the one in error, my lord.’

Instead of being affronted, he laughed. She was no plain everyday companion. She had been brought up a gentlewoman, or something very near it. He was on the point of taxing her with it, but changed his mind. It would provide a little entertainment on a long, tedious journey to watch how she went on and how long she could keep it up. ‘I do not want to buy you, Miss Draper. To be sure, I have no use for a lady’s companion. Now let us call a truce.’ He handed the waiter a handful of coins, telling him to keep the change, which pleased the fellow no end and he went off smiling.

Emma, seeing how much it was, turned pale. If all meals on the way were as expensive as that, her money would never last the distance and her pearls would have to go. It would break her heart to part with them, the last reminder of her father. She had loved him dearly and she knew her mother had too. Oh, why did he have to go and die? And why did her mother have to go and marry that horrible Sir George Tasker? Was that why she was so sharp with Viscount Malvers, when it certainly was not his fault?

‘My lord, I beg your pardon. A truce it is and my gratitude with it.’

‘Then let us go back to the coach. I heard them calling for passengers two minutes ago.’ He stood up and was about to pull out her chair for her and offer his arm, but stopped himself. A lady’s companion would not expect such a courtesy and he ought to maintain the pretence until such time as she admitted it was a pretence.

They trooped out to the coach, he saw the ladies safely in and then resumed his seat on the roof beside his man. Joe Bland had been his batman almost the whole of his army career and on being discharged was happy to continue to serve him. They had been through so much together, he was more friend than servant. Now he was grinning.

‘Pray share the jest,’ Alex commanded him.

‘The Long Meg,’ Joe said. ‘If she’s a lady’s maid, I’ll eat my hat.’

‘She said companion, not maid.’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘A companion is something above a maid. Not exactly a servant, but not family either. She is what the name implies, a companion. Such a position usually falls to the lot of spinsters who are gentlewomen but have to earn a living, for one reason or another. The death of the family breadwinner, perhaps, and no likelihood of finding a husband. Their duties are to run errands, fetch and carry, and stay meekly in the background. I doubt they are allowed much time to themselves.’

‘Hmm. Can’t see that one running errands for anyone. I’ll wager half a crown she’s a runaway and, if she is, you could find yourself in a coil for aiding and abetting, my lord.’

‘What you really mean is that you begrudge your inside seat.’

‘No, Major. I’ve travelled in many worse ways, as you very well know. But she’s not what she seems, though I think she is in the way of winding you round her thumb.’

‘Never! No woman will ever do that to me. But I’ll wager you are as curious as I am.’

‘Mayhap. I could try and find out from the other one. Now, she is a servant, I’ll lay odds.’

‘You are probably right, unless the pair of them are putting on a little entertainment for our benefit. I propose to go along with it and see where it leads. We have nothing else to do but enjoy the ride.’

‘If it doesn’t rain,’ Joe muttered gloomily. ‘I begin to wonder if we will ever get a summer. It’s enough to make you wish yourself back in Spain.’

‘I will endeavour to see if we can travel inside when and if the other occupants of the seats leave the coach. To be sure, it will give us time to get to know more of those two.’

Why he was so curious, he did not know. There was something about the tall girl that seized his attention. He had never, to his knowledge, met her before, but he felt as if he knew her, had always known her, and in that knowledge was also mystery, which he found compelling. She was not afraid of him, had met his eyes unashamedly, had conversed intelligently, was self-assured, more than any gentlewoman fallen on hard times ought to be, and yet at the back of those enormous violet eyes was a profound sadness. There was a story there and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.



The coach rattled on through the Hertfordshire countryside, making Emma wish she dare stop and go to Pinehill, but that would be the first place Sir George would look once he had ascertained she was no longer in London. She leaned back and refused to look out of the window at the familiar countryside where her childhood had been so happy, in case the sight should make her weep. How was her mother faring? Would her stepfather be bullying her into revealing where her daughter had gone? Mama was dreadfully afraid of her husband, but she would hold out as long as she could. If she could convince Sir George she was as mystified and concerned as he was, she might not suffer too much at his hands. She could even take to her bed with the worry of it all. Yes, that’s what she would do.

‘It’s raining again,’ Rose commented.

Emma opened her eyes and peered through the window. She could see nothing and rubbed the window to clear it of condensation and then all she could see was water beating against the other side and running down the glass in torrents. ‘Oh, dear, those poor men. I’ll wager they wish they had never given us their seats.’

The horses’ swift canter slowed to a trot, as the road became awash and the potholes disappeared, so that the wheels frequently ran into them and everyone on the coach was thrown from side to side. A flash of lightning and a roll of thunder so startled the horses they set off at a mad gallop. Emma reached for the strap and hung on grimly and the young bride opposite her flung herself into her husband’s arms and cried out in terror. They could hear the outside passengers shouting, which included some words not fit for ladies’ ears and then a thumping on the roof above their heads as if all twelve of them were trying to shift their positions. And still the horses galloped on, dragging their cargo with them.

At last the driver regained control and they resumed their steady pace, but the young lady opposite Emma would not be consoled, even though her husband soothed her over and over again. ‘It’s all right, dearest, you are quite safe. And I do believe the rain is easing. We shall soon be in Dunstable. There, there, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.’ He smiled nervously at Emma as he spoke.

She leaned forward. ‘Pray, do not distress yourself, madam. I admit I was a little nervous myself, but the worst is over. Do dry your eyes and look out of the window. I believe the sun is trying to come out.’

The young lady lifted her head from her husband’s shoulder and smiled weakly. ‘I am s…sorry to be s…such a watering pot. I have never travelled in a public coach before and never without Mama.’

Emma leaned forward, smiling. ‘I’ll tell you a secret. Neither have I.’

‘Then you are very brave.’

‘Not brave, stubborn and too proud to admit to being fearful.’ That, she supposed was true, especially with regard to her present situation, otherwise she would never have set out on this adventure.

They stopped for a change of horses, but did not leave the coach, though Alex climbed down and put his head in the door. Water was dripping off his hat and his shoulders were soaked. ‘Is anyone hurt?’

‘No, we are all in plump currant,’ Emma said. ‘But you are very wet.’

‘Oh, I have been a great deal wetter in my time, ma’am. I shall soon dry when we stop for something to eat.’

‘When will that be?’

‘At Dunstable. We should have been there by now, but it would have been unwise to hurry the horses when you couldn’t see where you were going.’

Emma smiled. ‘They certainly hurried themselves when it thundered.’

‘Yes, and a devil of a job it was to bring them to order. Horses that shy at a rumble of thunder should not be allowed to draw a public coach. I mean to have a word with the proprietor and hope the next set are more reliable.’ With that he disappeared and Emma saw him cross the yard and enter the inn. He came back just as they were ready to set off again.



The remainder of the stretch to Dunstable, through rolling countryside between the Chiltern Hills and Dunstable Downs, was uneventful and they clattered up the High Street and turned under the archway of the White Horse at half past one in the afternoon. Thankfully they stretched their stiff limbs and made a dash for the inn where they were joined by the bedraggled occupants of the outside seats.

The end of May it might have been, but the spring had been so cold and wet, the proprietor had lit a fire in the parlour and soon steaming coats and cloaks were draped around it. Emma looked about for Lord Malvers, but he was nowhere to be seen, though his man, his dark hair plastered to his scalp, had made himself comfortable in the corner nearest the fire and was tucking in to a plate full of chicken, potatoes and gravy. The young man and his bride were in earnest conversation with the innkeeper and were soon conducted upstairs. No doubt they had bespoke themselves a private room.

Emma found a table and they sat down to wait to be served. They had just handed in an order for ham pie and potatoes, the cheapest thing on the menu according to the man who took the order, when the Viscount returned. He had changed his coat and brushed out his hair, though the rain had made it curl even more. He approached Emma. ‘May I join you?’

She could hardly refuse. ‘Please do. We have already ordered our meal.’

‘Ah, I see, that means I am not to be allowed to pay for it.’ Nevertheless he seated himself beside them.

‘No, my lord, you are not. We are perfectly capable of paying our own way.’

‘How independent you are!’

‘You are mocking me.’

‘Indeed I am not. I admire your spunk.’ He turned as the waiter brought the girls’ meal and took his order for pork chops, roast chicken, a fruit pie and a quart of ale.

‘Spunk, my lord?’

‘You do not seem at all distressed by your recent alarming experience.’

She was taken aback for a moment, thinking he must know who she was and had heard about Lord Bentwater’s proposal, but then realised he was talking about the runaway horses. ‘Oh, that. It did not last above two or three minutes and we did not turn over, did we?’

‘No, but it was a near thing.’

She smiled. ‘A close-run thing.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, if you will.’

‘It must have been far worse for those of you travelling on the outside in the rain and wind.’

‘A mite uncomfortable,’ he said laconically.

The waiter came back with a tray loaded with food and Emma’s eyes widened at the sight of it. Her ham pie had barely filled a corner. She watched as he attacked it with gusto.

‘And you need not have endured it if you had not given away your inside seats.’

‘I hope you are not going to bore me with your gratitude all the way to Kendal, Miss Draper. A good deed once done should be forgotten.’

‘By the doer, yes, but the recipient should be thinking of ways to make all right again.’

‘Allowing me to bear you company has made it right.’ He had noticed her looking longingly at the food on his plate and guessed she had very little money. Putting down his knife and fork, he pushed his plate away. ‘Do you know, I am not as hungry as I thought I was. I shall have to send most of the chicken back to the kitchen and I hate waste.’

Rose looked at Emma and Emma looked at Rose, each reading the other’s thoughts. ‘So do I,’ Rose said, knowing Emma would never stoop to admitting such a thing. ‘And it is like to be some time before we stop again. If you have truly eaten your fill…’

‘Oh, I have. Here, let me help you to a morsel.’ And he divided what was left in the dishes between their two plates. ‘But do hurry up. We were so late arriving we are not being given the full hour to eat. Apparently, the schedule is more important than our digestions.’

They had eaten half of it when they were recalled to their seats. Almost reluctantly Emma left the cosiness of the warm room and the company of a gentleman she found strangely beguiling and made her way out to the coach, now with a different team of horses. Followed by Rose, she took her place and was taken aback when Lord Malvers’s servant climbed in and sat opposite her. Lord Malvers joined them and they were away again.

‘You have no objection to my travelling inside with you?’ he asked.

‘My lord, you must think me very particular and singularly lacking in conduct to object to anyone who has paid for his seat.’ She gave a little laugh and added, ‘Twice over.’

‘Then I shall take it you are content with my company.’ He smiled to put her at her ease, but she was wary of him, he could see it in her eyes, such big, expressive eyes. He turned to her companion. ‘What about you, Miss…I am sorry, you have the advantage of me.’

‘Turner,’ she said.

‘Well, Miss Turner, do you think you can suffer me to share your carriage?’

‘My carriage! Goodness, sir, what would I be doin’ with a carriage?’

‘Quite right. Prodigious expensive things they are to keep.’

‘Is that why you travel by public coach, my lord?’ Emma asked him, knowing he was throwing darts at her by teasing Rose. It behoved her to come to the maid’s rescue.

‘You think it miserly of me?’

‘I would never accuse you of miserliness, my lord. I was simply curious.’

‘Again?’

‘Touché.’ She laughed. ‘You do not have to answer me.’

‘No, but there is not much else to do is there? The countryside is too wet and bedraggled to be worth our attention, so we must fall back on conversation. Unless, of course, you prefer silence.’

‘No, my lord. By all means let us converse.’

‘Then I will tell you I did not bother to keep a carriage and horses in town and as my journey was urgent I had no time to go home for it.’

‘Home being in Norfolk?’

‘Yes. Buregreen. It is on the borders of Norfolk and Suffolk, quite near the sea. There are three farms, mainly arable, but with a fair acreage of grazing. Before the war they were productive, but last year the harvest was not good owing to bad weather and this year the climate has been the worst anyone can remember. I doubt there will be a yield at all.’

‘And yet you left it to go to London? Are you not happy at home, my lord?’

‘It is the place I most wish to be, but my mother, bless her dear heart, thought I should find me a wife.’

‘You are not married, then?’

‘No, Miss Draper, I am not. I never had the time or inclination for it.’ It was spoken so emphatically she wondered why he was so adamant.

‘And the London Season bores you.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘You said so yourself, earlier today. Not to your taste, you said. Do you think you will find a bride in the Lakes?’

‘A mermaid, you mean, half-fish, half-woman.’

It was a moment before his meaning registered and then she laughed. ‘Do you always tease, my lord?’

‘Only if I think it will make you smile. It is better than being sombre, don’t you think? Life is too short to take seriously.’

‘We cannot always be laughing. There are times…’ She stopped, afraid to go on. He was looking at her with his head on one side, his blue eyes watching her, waiting for her to give herself away. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction.

‘Yes,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘Times of war, times of bereavement and loss, times when the situation of the poor breaks one’s heart and one is left fuming at the callousness of a society that lets them suffer. It is thinking of such things that demand solemnity.’

‘You evidently think very strongly on that subject.’

‘Yes. Don’t you? Or perhaps you have never had to think about it.’

He was fishing, she decided. ‘Of course I think about it and I wish I could help them, but it is not in my power.’

‘No, you are only Miss Fanny Draper, isn’t that what you told me?’

‘Yes, because that is my name.’

‘My dear girl, I am not disputing it.’ He waited for her reaction, an angry accusation of impertinence, not only for the way he had addressed her, but for doubting her honesty. For a fleeting second he saw it in her eyes and then it was gone.

She wanted to riposte, but decided against it; any show of hauteur might make him suspicious of the truth. It would be better to remain silent. The coach rattled on through a countryside uniformly wet and uninviting. The trees dripped, the roads were covered in mud, the potholes filled with water. There was nothing worth looking at. The inside of the coach was gloomy and she could not see her fellow travellers clearly. She had had hardly any sleep the night before and the swaying of the vehicle was soporific, making her eyes droop. She allowed herself to doze.

She awoke with a start when they stopped to change the horses again. It was like that all the way to Northampton; wake, nod, sleep, but at least they had left London and her stepfather far behind them. She wondered what Lord Malvers would think of her if he knew the truth. He might be disgusted. On the other hand, he might treat her flight as a missish prank and be ready to turn her in. He might also think that, just because she was travelling incognito on a public coach without an escort, he could take liberties. Not that he had tried; so far he had behaved impeccably, but they had a long way to go and anything could happen. Could she keep up this masquerade right to the end? She had to, so much depended on it.



They arrived at Northampton at six o’clock, an hour and a half behind schedule. Alex opened the door and jumped down, turning to help Emma, who was endeavouring to retie the ribbons of her bonnet. ‘There might be time for something to eat and drink, before we go on,’ he said. ‘Though we must make haste. I’m told we are only to be allowed a quarter of an hour.’

They had barely seen to their comfort and ordered tea and bread and butter, the only thing available in the limited time, when they were recalled to their seats. Alex, who had given in to her insistence that she pay for it, wrapped the uneaten food in a napkin and followed them out to the coach. As soon as they were on the way again, he produced the package and offered it to the girls.

‘How clever of you to think of that,’ Emma said, helping herself to a slice of bread and butter. ‘I never would.’

‘I learned in the army never to abandon food,’ he said, glad that her wariness of him had dissipated a little. ‘We never knew when our next meal would be. We often had to eat on the march.’

‘Surely, as an officer, you were not required to march? Were you not mounted?’

‘Some of the time, but I liked to march alongside my men. How could I ask them to walk until they were ready to drop if I did not do the same?’

‘I am sure they appreciated that.’

‘So they did, miss.’ This was said by his servant. ‘If the Major could keep going, so could we.’

‘It must be exciting, going to war,’ Emma said.

‘Exciting,’ Alex mused. ‘I suppose it was sometimes. Sometimes it was terrifying and often just plain boring.’

‘Boring?’

‘Between battles, when we were waiting for something to happen or when we were on a long march from one encounter with the enemy to the next.’

‘What did you do then?’

He laughed. ‘Dreamed of home, wondering if those we had left behind were well. We planned our next strategy, cleaned our weapons, talked of armaments and supplies. Some of the men had their women and families with them and that made it easier for them. Those without families amused themselves in other ways: boxing matches, running races, hunting and fishing, playing cards.’

‘Gambling is an abomination, the ruin of so many lives.’

‘Certainly it can be so, but in moderation it can while away the hours.’

‘Oh, it can indeed do that, my lord. Hours and hours, whole days sometimes.’ She sounded so bitter, he looked sharply at her. Was that the reason she had fallen on hard times? Her own gambling or someone else’s?

‘You have experience of that?’

‘I…Never mind. Tell me about your men. Where are they now?’

‘Scattered to the winds. Some are buried where they fell, others are still serving, gone to America to put down the rebellion there, still more have come home to an England they hardly know. It would not be so bad if the country was grateful, if something was being done to alleviate their distress, but I see little evidence of it.’

‘What do you think should be done?’

‘Employment is what they need, Miss Draper, so they can look after their families and live in dignity.’

‘Is there no employment for them?’

He looked sharply at her. She must have been leading a very sheltered life not to know that unemployment was one of the main issues of the day. And wasn’t she off to take a job herself? He’d lay odds she had never worked before. ‘Not enough,’ he said. ‘And those whose work is on the land are doubly to be pitied considering it has hardly stopped raining all year. There will be little enough grain this harvest time and a poor harvest means poor wages.’

‘Is it the same in the towns?’

‘Nearly as bad. The price of bread will soar. If nothing is done, I fear for the working man.’ Was she simply making conversation, getting him to talk, or did she really not know how things were? A gentlewoman driven to be a companion almost certainly would. It would have been part of the argument for taking up such a post.

‘And woman,’ Rose put in.

He turned towards her. ‘Yes, indeed, Miss Turner. Do you have employment? Are you to be a companion too?’

‘No, my lord. I am going home to help my mother.’

‘Is your home in the Lakes?’

‘No my lord. It is in Chelmsford.’

‘Chelmsford—then what are you doing on a coach going to Manchester?’

‘Keeping Miss Draper company.’

‘And who will keep you company when you have to leave her?’

‘Oh, I shall not need company, my lord. I do not mind travelling alone.’

That gave him food for thought and for a moment he lapsed into silence. If their stations were equal, why did one girl need company and the other not? The answer was, of course, that they were not equal in rank at all. Miss Draper, if that were really her name, was far superior. Was one maid to the other? Then why were they dressed alike? His curiosity deepened.

Emma knew Rose had made a blunder. He was becoming inquisitive and there was a self-satisfied smirk on the face of his man. She did not know what to say to allay his suspicions. She really should not have allowed herself to become involved in conversation with him. What could she say to put him off? Perhaps it would be better not to say anything at all. She had been sitting forward but now, as they stopped for yet another change of horses, she leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes. Perhaps he would take the hint.

Already they had been on the road for twelve hours and there were still many more miles to go before they reached Leicester where, she had been assured, they would be able to put up for the night. Perhaps they would part there; he might go on tonight without stopping or perhaps take a different coach in the morning. But thinking about that made her suddenly aware that she had been glad of his presence, of the way he had gallantly looked after them. He could command instant service at the inns and thought nothing of berating the horse-keeper on the standard of his horses; the very fact that he appeared to be escorting her made her feel more secure.



The latest horses were fresh and the rain had stopped so they made up a little of the lost time. It was ten o’clock and she was dog-tired when the coach pulled into the yard of the Three Crowns in Leicester. Lord Malvers helped her out and took her elbow to guide her into the inn, leaving Joe and Rose to follow. In no time at all his lordship had arranged for a room for her and went with her to inspect it.

‘The bed linen is not clean,’ he told the innkeeper’s wife, who had personally shown them up to the room. ‘Change it at once. And replace the water in that ewer. It is covered in scum. We will dine downstairs while you see to it.’

The woman bobbed a curtsy. ‘At once, my lord.’

Having laid down his orders, he turned to Emma. ‘Come, Miss Draper.’

A little bemused, Emma followed him downstairs, to find Joe and Rose cosily ensconced in the parlour close to the fire where he was regaling her with a gory story of war in Spain.

His lordship ordered a meal, but Emma was almost too tired to eat. Travelling by public coach was very different from going in their own carriage and taking their time about it, very different from going post chaise, though they hadn’t done that since her father died. She suspected her stepfather was not nearly as wealthy as he liked people to believe. And he could not touch her inheritance. Of course! That was it, that was why he was insisting on her marrying Lord Bentwater. They had done a deal over her fortune. How hard would they try to find her? If they caught up with her before she reached Mrs Summers, what would her present escort do? Hand her over, or help her? She was too tired to worry about it, too tired to take part in the conversation.

‘Miss Draper, I am keeping you from your bed.’

‘What? Oh, I am sorry, my lord. What were you saying?’

‘It is of no consequence. Come, I’ll escort you to your room. You need to sleep and we have an early start in the morning.’

She did not argue, but stood up and followed him from the room, Rose bringing up the rear. At the door of the room she turned to thank him, but he brushed her thanks aside. ‘Glad to be of service,’ he said. ‘I am just along the passage. If you need anything, send Miss Turner to wake me. I’ll be with you in an instant.’ He bowed and strode away.

The two girls entered the room and shut the door. The bed linen had been changed and there was fresh water in the ewer and the layer of dust she had noticed earlier had gone. Her bag and Rose’s bundle were on a chest below the window.

Emma sank on to the bed, while Rose unpacked their night things. ‘What do you make of him, Rose?’

‘I don’t know, my lady. In my book, men don’t do favours for nothing and we’ve landed ourselves very much in his debt. What is he going to ask in return?’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t want anything. Perhaps he is simply a knight errant.’

Rose’s reply was a sniff of disbelief.

‘Do you think he believes our story?’

‘Does it matter what he believes?’ She crossed the room with Emma’s nightgown and laid it on the bed.

Emma began unbuttoning her dress. ‘I found myself wondering what he would do if Sir George were to catch up with us before we reached our destination. Should I tell him the truth and throw myself on his mercy?’

‘No, my lady. You don’t know anything about him. He might take advantage. Just think, he is a soldier, used to soldier’s ways…’

‘But I’m sure he’s an officer and a gentleman.’

‘You only have his word for that. Does a gentleman travel with his servant and sit at the same table?’

‘I am travelling with you in the same manner.’

‘That’s different.’

‘How different?’

‘You are not pretending to be a titled lady. Take my word for it, he thinks you are a gentlewoman fallen on hard times and as such ripe for a little sport.’

‘Rose, I refuse to believe that.’

Rose shrugged and helped Emma out of her clothes and slipped her nightdress over her head. ‘Why did he suggest sending me to fetch him in the middle of the night, then?’

She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Oh, Rose, I would never have taken that as an invitation. How glad I am that you came with me.’

She went over to the door and turned the key in the lock and then dragged a chair against it for good measure. There was only one bed and they got into it together. Two minutes later they were both asleep.



Alex prepared for bed in a thoughtful mood. The more he saw of Miss Fanny Draper, the more he was convinced she was not what she seemed. She had started out being prickly as a hedgehog, determined to be independent, but that had lasted only until they reached the Peahen in St Albans. Who was she? Was she, as Joe insisted, a runaway? He had no idea how old she was, but she was not a schoolgirl, so what was she running from? A husband? He hadn’t seen a wedding band. The law? If so, what had she done? Was she simply an intrepid traveller, telling the truth, or a clever trickster, manipulating him into feeling sorry for her in order to part him from his money? If that turned out to be the case, she would find he was not such easy game as she imagined. It was a pity because she was too lovely to be a criminal and when she looked at him with those huge violet eyes, he found himself softening. Damn the woman! He thought he knew women in all their changing moods, had met enough of them in his time, but this one had him foxed.




Chapter Three


Emma woke when she heard someone rattling the door knob. She sat up, thankful that she had been warned by Rose and locked the door. She shook her sleeping maid. ‘Rose, there’s someone outside the door.’

Rose stirred and yawned and then, realising where she was, jumped out of bed, embarrassed to find herself in bed with her mistress, something that had not happened since Emma was small and needed comforting after a nightmare.

‘Miss Draper, Miss Turner, it is time to rise. The coach leaves in less than an hour.’ It was the innkeeper’s wife.

Emma gave a sigh of relief and scrambled from the bed where she had been sitting with her knees up and the covers drawn right up to her chin. ‘We will be down directly.’

They washed and dressed, packed their few things and went down to breakfast. Another day of travelling had begun. But before they left they had to pay for a night’s board and lodging. It cost them fourteen shillings each and this time there was no Lord Malvers to offer to pay. Not that she would have allowed it if he had. She was already too beholden to him for her own peace of mind, especially after Rose’s warning the night before.

‘Do you think he has overslept or gone on a different coach?’ Emma asked Rose when he did not put in an appearance at the breakfast table.

Rose shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Not at all. I am sure we can manage perfectly well without him.’ But she found herself looking for him as they walked out to the coach, already being loaded. It was not the coach they had arrived in; that had gone on the night before with those passengers who preferred reaching their destination to sleeping in a strange bed. This one had left London the morning before. She saw Viscount Malvers inspecting the horses and harness and talking to the coachman. Was he always that particular? she wondered.

He doffed his hat when he saw them. ‘Good morning, Miss Draper, Miss Turner. It is a much finer day today and we should make good time.’ He took their baggage from them and handed it to Joe to put in the boot, then he held the door for them. ‘In you go, we’ll be off in two minutes.’

Emma’s spirits rose at the sight of him. Rose was adequate as a travelling companion, but it was comforting to know there was a gentleman in the background ready and willing to smooth their journey. Rose had advised caution and she would be cautious but that did not mean she would disdain his assistance. ‘Good morning, my lord,’ she said, as he put his hand under her elbow to help her up. It was the second time he had done that and his grip was firm without being domineering, just the sort of gesture a gentleman would make to a lady. But she wasn’t a lady; at least, for the purposes of this journey she wasn’t. Had he realised the truth? Was that why he was being so helpful, expecting a reward for his efforts? But wasn’t that just what Rose had warned her about? She was so concerned with her inner debate, she hardly noticed that everyone else had taken their seats and they were moving out of the yard.

She had not been able to see anything of Leicester the night before, but in daylight she noticed that the town was a busy one. Carts and drays were making their way to market and they made slow progress through the congestion. The buildings were a mixture of very old and very new: good brick-built houses interspersed with dilapidated timbered buildings, whose upper storeys projected into the roadway, forcing high vehicles like the coach into the middle of the road.

‘Leicester is a very old town,’ he said as an opening gambit, noticing she was leaning forward to see out of the window. She was near enough for their knees to be almost touching; when he leaned forward too, her bonnet was only inches from his face. It was a huge bonnet, long out of fashion, but then she was not fashionably dressed at all. The cloak, though clean, was worn and she was wearing the same striped dress she had worn the day before. He supposed it was hardly surprising when all the luggage she appeared to have was one quite small carpet bag. He was no expert on the subject, but he would have expected a lady, even lady’s companion going to a new position, to take at least one trunk and a hatbox as well as an overnight bag.

‘Yes,’ she said, leaning back a little. He had been too close for comfort, she could see every line of his face in detail, his healthy complexion, his searching blue eyes that seemed to be taking in everything about her, seeing past the surface to the person she was beneath the skin. ‘I believe the Romans were here.’

‘Yes. It was central to the Roman network of roads, on the crossroads from north to south and east to west. It still is today. It was invaded by the Danes, and later the Normans came and built the castle. And did you know Richard III’s body was buried here after he died at the Battle of Bosworth, though it was removed later and thrown in the river?’

‘No, I didn’t. How dreadful. But how do you know all this?’

‘I like to learn a little of the history of places I visit. It is a subject that has interested me ever since I found myself besieging ancient towns in the Peninsula. I hate to see the destruction of beautiful things.’ He paused and added softly, ‘Beauty should be preserved, do you not think?’

‘Yes, I do.’ She had intended to be short with him, to let him know she did not want to converse, but how could she be so uncivil? And he was an interesting man to listen to. ‘What else have you discovered?’

‘Lady Jane Grey came from here. You remember she was Queen for nine days?’

‘Yes, poor thing.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘She was manipulated by the men around her.’ She sighed. ‘But there is nothing new in that. Why do men think they have the God-given right to order the lives of women, my lord?’

It was said with such feeling, he knew something had happened, something to do with a man. Was she fleeing from a man? Father, husband or lover? His curiosity deepened. ‘It has always been the way of the world,’ he said carefully. ‘I suppose it is because they are the weaker sex.’

‘And who says that? Men!’ The venom was there. ‘Oh, I know we are physically weaker, we cannot fight, nor carry heavy weights, but that is not everything. Women can be as learned and determined as men.’

His smile was a little lop-sided. ‘Oh, yes, indeed. Are you a determined woman, Miss Draper?’

‘I think so.’

‘Then I wonder how you will go on as a lady’s companion. I cannot see the role suiting you.’

‘Why not?’ she demanded.

‘Determination, independence, more than your share of looks. Do you think your employer will like those traits? The role, I believe, requires you to be self-effacing and to remain in the background.’

How did they get from discussing the history of Leicester to this personal exchange which was making her very uncomfortable? For the first time since her flight she began to wonder about her future, which was in the hands of her mother’s friend. If Mrs Summers rejected her, refused to harbour her, what would she do? Rose would leave her soon to go back to her own mother and she would be without any kind of support. What use determination and independence then? ‘We shall have to wait and see,’ she said.

‘And if you do not suit?’

‘Then I shall have to find something else.’

‘Do you know the Lake District, Miss Draper?’

‘No, I have never visited it.’

‘If you need assistance, I shall be happy to provide it.’

She laughed, slightly bitterly. ‘I thought you said you had no use for a lady’s companion.’




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