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Rescued By The Earl's Vows
Ann Lethbridge


An unusual proposition from a lady…Will Lord Sandford come to Tess’s rescue?When Lady Tess Ingram bursts into Jaimie Earl of Sandford’s offices, seeking help to avoid forced marriage or banishment, he’s her last resort. Tess isn’t convinced she can trust Jaimie—or any man—but her tenacity compels Jaimie to come to her aid. And what starts as a convenient arrangement soon turns into more than is strictly proper…







An unusual proposition from a lady...

Will Lord Sanford come to Tess’s rescue?

When Lady Tess Ingram bursts into Jaimie, Earl of Sanford’s offices seeking help to avoid forced marriage or banishment, he’s her last resort. Tess isn’t convinced she can trust Jaimie—or any man—but her tenacity compels him to come to her aid. What starts as a convenient arrangement soon turns into more than is strictly proper...

“Lethbridge turns up the sexy in her newest tale.”

—RT Book Reviews on Secrets of the Marriage Bed

“Adventure, sensuality and romance are beautifully blended.”

—RT Book Reviews on Captured Countess


In her youth, award-winning author ANN LETHBRIDGE re-imagined the Regency romances she read—and now she loves writing her own. Now living in Canada, Ann visits Britain every year, where family members understand—or so they say—her need to poke around every antiquity within a hundred miles. Learn more about Ann or contact her at annlethbridge.com (http://www.annlethbridge.com). She loves hearing from readers.


Also by Ann Lethbridge (#u3d0c7096-aabe-5bbe-95e2-3d854006fb50)

Captured Countess

The Duke’s Daring Debutante

Secrets of the Marriage Bed

An Innocent Maid for the Duke

Rakes in Disgrace miniseries

The Gamekeeper’s Lady

More Than a Mistress

Deliciously Debauched by the Rake

More Than a Lover

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Rescued by the Earl’s Vows

Ann Lethbridge






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


ISBN: 978-147-407349-3

RESCUED BY THE EARL’S VOWS

© 2018 Michèle Ann Young

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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


This book is dedicated to two amazing young women—my daughters. Their support and their friendship is one of the most valuable things in my life. I wish them every happiness, wherever life’s trails take them in the future.


Contents

Cover (#uf19f2563-8bd5-5bc7-b6dc-cd98e4e95f45)

Back Cover Text (#u62dc7334-d9c3-5b9e-9670-f0d8626b63bd)

About the Author (#u9c52a2ae-e3bf-515a-b577-591abf8eda5f)

Booklist (#ud802e646-9776-54af-8c92-d2a155255e8d)

Title Page (#u1212a1a1-f8b9-52cd-b084-fe4d1d7acb20)

Copyright (#u06fc9b31-5a37-5f5e-9005-1d049dbe76ad)

Dedication (#ub3a7d668-39fc-58f6-bec8-38853eed9f94)

Chapter One (#u9b538d55-1b17-5608-8924-510e29f75e79)

Chapter Two (#u35467fc4-5cf9-51ce-bd9f-3af1d7841b13)

Chapter Three (#u5997f93a-efca-5340-b1c0-f06de74e49b9)

Chapter Four (#u6a2add01-5016-57ac-89e3-3db8255414a6)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u3d0c7096-aabe-5bbe-95e2-3d854006fb50)

Jaimie, Earl of Sandford, reread the report he’d received from the Home Office on yet another burglary in Mayfair. The fourth in a month. In the words of Mr Robert Peel, the Home Secretary, the ton’s uproar of indignation demanded immediate action.

Strangely, in most instances nothing of any real value had been taken. Rather, the perpetrators committed acts of mischief, tossing papers around or spilling ink on valuable carpets, before they left. In every case, the occupants had been fast asleep in their beds above stairs. All were badly unnerved.

Were these robberies committed by the same individual or individuals? Or was this rise in criminal activity simply coincidental with regard to timing and modes of entry?

Experience had taught Jaimie not to believe in coincidences.

‘And I told you, miss. He won’t see you.’ Growler’s deep rasp permeated his door and Jaimie raised his gaze from the document at the unusual occurrence. Growler’s throat had been ruined by smoke from the chimneys he’d been forced up as a small child. The man rarely raised his voice above a murmur.

Do not let yourself be distracted, my boy, not in matters of importance. His father’s words echoed comfortably in his mind, invoking a vague memory of his five-year-old self trying to master the complications of the letter f. How right Father had been. He again perused the sentence describing the latest robbery.

‘You has to leave, miss.’ Louder this time. Very loud for Growler.

Jaimie cursed as he again lost his place. Never once had he heard the fearsome-looking Growler raise his voice to a woman, whose sex he revered to the point of ridiculousness. And now he was shouting at one?

The woman’s reply, if she made one, did not penetrate the solid oak door.

The knock a moment later brought him to his feet and around from behind his desk. Anyone brave enough to stand up to Growler was worth taking a look at, no matter how important the report.

The door inched open.

‘Yes, Growler?’

The crack widened to half-open, revealing the burly figure of his second in command. The ex-bruiser’s face creased into worry. ‘There’s a lady wanting to see you, me lord. I told her you was busy, but she’s insisting...’

No lady would be visiting him in the suite of offices Jaimie rented in Lincoln’s Inn. ‘Tell her—’

At that moment, a short, veiled female figure draped from head to toe in mourning black strode past Growler as if he wasn’t there. No mean feat, given the man’s size and threatening posture.

‘You may tell me yourself, Lord Sandford.’ She angled her head towards Growler. ‘That will be all, thank you.’

Jaimie bristled. ‘Growler—’

‘Right you are, miss.’ Clearly relieved, Growler made good his escape.

Astonished and amused against his better judgement, Jaimie turned to the woman. ‘I beg your pardon, madam, but—’

‘I require your services to locate a missing person, my lord.’ She spoke as if he hadn’t said a word.

Amusement changed to annoyance. Damn and blast the article The Times had written about his miraculous recovery of a child stolen by a nursemaid. Now every female in London of marriageable age wanted him to find something they had lost. Usually a handkerchief or a puppy, because having forgotten about him for years, they now realised he remained one of the most eligible single gentlemen on the marriage mart, even if he was a widower. His stomach slid away.

The thought of having to find a second wife always made him feel slightly nauseous, though find one he must. Eventually. It was his duty to his title as his cousin, the heir presumptive, reminded him regularly.

He folded his arms across his chest and gave his visitor a hard stare.

‘Well?’ she countered in response to his silence. The veil shifted with her exhale.

The urge to peek beneath it and see if the face matched the clear, cool tones of her beautifully modulated voice took him by surprise. As did the realisation that Growler had been correct in describing her as a lady. Though exactly what sort of lady she might be remained in question.

He certainly wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of asking for her name.

‘If you are missing a person,’ he said, keeping his voice level and far more pleasant than he felt she deserved, ‘I suggest you return home and request the assistance of your closest male relative. If you don’t have one, I recommend you seek the aid of your footman’

A toe tapped somewhere beneath the stiff, expensive silk of her skirts. ‘I have it on good authority that you are the best person for this particular task.’

There it was again. A voice full of calm matter-of-factness, but with a surprising musicality. A richness—He cut off his wandering thoughts. ‘Madam, I thank you for your confidence in my abilities, however, I regret I do not have time for any new projects at this moment. I am fully engaged and likely to be for some time. Good day to you.’

‘I can pay you.’ Clutched between thumb and forefinger she held out a pearl ring.

Annoyance rose in his gorge. Did she think he wasn’t a gentleman? That his refusal was based on monetary concerns? He forced the feeling down. It was a dangerous emotion when dealing with women, especially one who was clearly distraught despite her carefully calm voice. He did not hide his displeasure. ‘A hundred pounds’ deposit. Cash. Before I will so much as consider the project.’ The ring was clearly worth nowhere near that much.

She gasped, her fingers trembling around the ring, the little puff of air again lifting the veil, but still giving no clue as to her age or state of health. Or her looks.

Her shoulders slumped.

He felt...irritated instead of pleased at her defeat. Without a word he waved her towards the door, shepherding her in that direction with an outstretched arm. Now close enough to inhale a light waft of lavender. A floral statement of serenity, grace and calm, but... He frowned. Primarily, the flower symbolised distrust.

She probably did not understand that last. For what cause would this privileged and probably spoiled young woman have for distrusting anyone? Again, he had the urge to peek beneath her heavy veil and see her face. Something about her called strongly to his curiosity.

He shooed her towards the door through which she had arrived.

Thankfully, she did not resist. Or argue. Or try to flatter him. She left, leaving him feeling somehow guilty, perhaps even that he’d been unkind to ask for such an outrageous sum to find her missing person, when he’d done it purely to put her off.

He closed the door firmly behind her and leaned one shoulder against it, listening to Growler’s low sympathetic rumble, though the actual words were now indistinct. In short order, silence descended in the adjoining antechamber.

Jaimie strolled to the window and watched his visitor make for the hackney carriage waiting at the curb. Discreet, then, this woman. Most of them flaunted their identities in the hopes of attracting his attention. She entered into negotiations with the driver. Finally, the jarvey nodded agreement. Suddenly, he had to know who she was.

Jaimie strode across the room and snatched open the door. ‘Have someone follow that woman, Growler. I want to know whom she has lost.’

Growler’s jaw slackened, then he was on his feet and dashing for the door. ‘Yes, me lord.’ A moment later, he was thundering along the hallway outside the office.

Another glance into the street showed a small lad he did not recognise running hell for leather after the hackney and leaping easily on to the back runner. Not something Jaimie would have encouraged, but hitching a ride on hackney carriages was common practice among the street urchins and unlikely to attract attention.

He sighed and repressed his unease. Why was he even bothering? No doubt, despite the lady’s obvious distress, her supposed quest would turn out to be nothing but a hum. Blast it, he had far more important matters on his mind than the vagaries of a strange female. He fought to recapture the memory of his father’s voice, but all he could hear were those cool, clear tones. I require your services to locate a missing person.

The cheek of it. She hadn’t even done him the courtesy of showing her face. But that voice... Blast it, he would not let the woman ruin his day.

He picked up the report. A ring. She’d offered to pay him with a ring. She must indeed be desperate.

* * *

Tess ignored the butler’s frowning look as he took in her outer raiment. Thank goodness she’d remembered to remove the swathe of crepe she had used as a veil before she arrived home, though she had been glad of its concealment during her interview with Lord Sandford. It had certainly hidden her blushes both then and in the jewellers where she had sold the ring his lordship had so disdainfully rejected. While the ring hadn’t been worth a great deal, she could at least pay someone to make some preliminary enquiries on her behalf.

She mounted the stairs heading for her third-floor chamber, thinking back on her meeting with Lord Sandford. He was nothing like what she had expected. A peer of the realm engaged in solving crimes and disappearances? She’d expected some elderly scholarly sort of chap, one of those eccentrics one heard about, not a noble young man in the prime of life who looked like a Greek statue.

How was it possible that so handsome an exterior hid so arrogant a man? My word, he was shockingly handsome. Just thinking about him had her heart beating faster. She’d had trouble even uttering a word when she’d first entered his office. Tall and lean and stylish was her first impression. Handsome as sin in the manner of fair-haired Englishmen, though his eyes had been a velvety brown rather than a bright blue.

On the other hand, his arrogant lack of curiosity had been dreadfully irritating. Talk to her closest male relative, indeed. Ask a footman! Clearly, he’d thought her problem too trivial for his lofty attention. Not that she had intended to provide him with too many details, apart from the name of the person she wanted to find. She wasn’t stupid enough to trust in a man’s ability to do things right.

Take Father. He couldn’t even manage to leave his affairs in proper order. Even though his sudden death had happened more than a year ago, she continued to have trouble believing he had taken his own life without making proper provision for his children. And yet, it was typical of the way the man had lived his life. He’d preferred to gamble on something turning up, rather than setting to and putting time and effort into the land his family had occupied for centuries. She’d done her best to make up for his lackadaisical ways, but each time she thought they were making progress, he’d taken what little bit of money she had managed to save and gambled it on a horse or the turn of a dice in the hopes of doubling his money. Hopeless. No, if she wanted to find her half-brother Grey, she needed to take charge of the search. Yet the pittance she had received for the sale of her ring would not take her very far at all.

Her maid, Mims, looked up from her folding as Tess entered. ‘There you are, my lady. Her ladyship is looking for you. I told her you had stepped out for a breath of air, like you said. You are to go to her drawing room the moment you return.’

Tess nodded. ‘Thank you, Mims. Help me change.’

In short order, Mims had her out of the blacks she’d worn after her father died and into a sprig-muslin morning gown, ready to present herself to Wilhelmina, Lady Rowan, wife of Tess’s cousin Phineas, who had inherited her father’s title, his debts and, as the new head of the household, Tess’s upkeep. The latter they both wished to be rid of as soon as possible.

She took a deep breath, calmed her turmoil and entered the drawing room where Lady Rowan, a faded blonde, reclined on the daybed idly flicking the pages of a copy of La Belle Assemblée. She looked up with a frown. ‘Tess, your maid said you went out?’

‘I needed to return a book to Hatchard’s.’

Wilhelmina’s nose seemed to twitch. ‘If you had told me you were going, I would have asked you to pick up a book for me. You would think after all we do for you...’ She sighed. ‘Never mind, I will ask Carver to release one of the footmen from his duties.’

Tess forced a conciliatory smile. ‘My apologies. I did ask at Hatchard’s if they had anything for you, Cousin. They said they had not.’

Wilhelmina waved a dismissive hand as if she wasn’t the one who had just accused Tess of being thoughtless. She frowned. ‘Do sit down. You are making my neck ache.’

Of course, had she sat down without an invitation, her cousin’s wife wouldn’t have said anything, but a look of annoyance would have crossed her face and left Tess feeling off balance. She took the chair at right angles to the chaise. ‘Mims said you wanted to see me.’

‘Our plans for this evening have changed. Rowan has an important dinner at his club. We will go on ahead and he will meet us later at the Petershams’.’

Good news. Phineas’s false jocularity always put her on edge. She put his odd manner down to his discomfort at being around a woman who was his equal and who didn’t fawn over him the way his wife did. They had conversed about her supposed intractability more than once. No wonder he could not wait to marry her off.

At first the idea had appealed. However, none of the suitors to whom he had given his approval were men with whom she could envisage spending the rest of her life. Indeed, it was his most recent suggestion that had sent her hot-footed to see Sandford. Alas, to no avail.

‘Are we leaving home at ten as previously agreed?’ Tess asked. Another of Wilhelmina’s delightful little habits was to impart only part of the information one needed and then give one a look of irritation or even a scolding when one arrived too early or too late or was found to be waiting for something that had been cancelled. A habit that niggled.

‘Yes. Ten. It is a costume ball with masks. I am going as Good Queen Bess.’

Thankfully, that she did know. She had managed to sneak a peek at the invitation. Wilhelmina always went to costume balls as Queen Elizabeth, whereas Tess loved dressing up as something different each time. ‘I am going as Artemis.’

Wilhelmina’s brow wrinkled as she clearly tried to recall the Greek goddess. ‘Nothing risqué, Tess. You don’t want to give Mr Stedman a distaste for you.’ Wilhelmina’s vague expression sharpened. ‘Definitely no trousers this time or you really will end up in Yorkshire with Tante Marie. Rowan is at the end of his patience.’

The usual threat to send her north to live with an embittered ageing relative made its appearance each time she showed a morsel of spirit. They would do it, too. Look how they’d tossed Greydon, her illegitimate half-brother, out on his ear without a shilling to his name. She’d been horrified to come home and find him gone.

Poor Grey. It had been so unfair. But she hadn’t heard from him in all this time. He must know she would worry about him. Especially since he had taken with him the only piece of property of any value that she owned. Her diamond bracelet. If Cousin Phineas ever discovered the loss, things would go hard for Grey. Not to mention that she needed it back if she was to avoid marriage to the unpleasant Mr Stedman.

She certainly understood why Grey did not visit, but at the very least, he should have written. Explained his actions. Her stomach dipped. Surely Phineas wouldn’t intercept his letters? That she would not believe. Far more likely was that Grey had forgotten all about her in his new life. Another man who had failed her badly. They were a wholly unreliable lot. She would certainly take him to task when she found him.

She bowed her head to hide her frustration. ‘Nothing risqué, Cousin. I promise.’ Though the idea of giving the narrow-minded, moralistic Mr Stedman a distaste for marriage to her appealed mightily. And she might have to behave very badly, if she could not locate Grey. Although the thought of being banished to Yorkshire sent a shiver down her back.

‘Would you like me to ring for tea, Cousin?’ she asked.

Somehow she would find Grey before Stedman made his offer. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold him off.

* * *

Jaimie tied on his mask and left the carriage around the corner from the Petershams’ town house. There was no point in wearing a disguising costume if one was going to waltz up to the front door in a lozenged coach. He adjusted the folds of his black cloak and pulled up the cowl. Costume balls were generally not his idea of a good time, but dressing as Death had appealed to his macabre sense of humour. After all, he’d been responsible for more than his fair share. It would also prevent anyone from guessing his identity and allow him to move around without exciting any interest. A useful advantage for tonight’s endeavour.

He handed over his invitation to the footman at the door and strode up the stairs to the first-floor ballroom behind a couple in the guises of Pan and a shepherdess. The man’s large backside stretched his tights to the limit in a most unsettling way and the lady kept dropping her lamb, requiring her escort to bend over to retrieve it. Jaimie averted his gaze. Finally, they made it to the top and Jaimie eased his way through the crowd of masked and colourfully clothed guests, many of whom were sweating profusely in their heavy costumes and the sweltering room.

Those costumes ranged from angels to gladiators and most took one look at him and either moved aside or peered into the cowl, trying to make out his features only to discover it useless because of his mask.

He scanned the room for his objective. Artemis, according to Growler’s information.

An interesting choice. A goddess who protected young women. Artemis was also known as Diana the huntress to the Romans. Should he read anything into her choice?

It had taken Growler and his team little effort to learn about Jaimie’s morning visitor. An unremarkable daughter of a deceased earl who had been placed under the protection of the new title holder. She was now in her second Season on the marriage mart. The question of whom she might be seeking remained unknown. Not his concern. Something else entirely had brought him here this evening.

And...there she was: Artemis, standing among a group of costumed ladies and gentlemen, watching the dancing. The lushness of her figure took his breath away. The expression on her round pretty face was one of complete innocence, despite the wanton tumble of chestnut locks falling down her back to her waist. If her costume had not been described to him in intricate detail, he would never have recognised her as the dumpy female who had stood toe to toe with Growler’s menacing presence earlier in the day.

This morning, he had thought her short and a little squat in her enveloping black carriage dress. The funereal clothing she’d worn had hidden every one of her charms. Apart from her voice. And her scent. Tonight, the artfully draped, white Greek robe arranged to leave one creamy dimpled shoulder bare also revealed a gloriously curvaceous figure in perfect proportion for her diminutive size. The bow and quiver slung diagonally across her body divided her breasts in a most mouthwatering fashion.

While her mask obscured the top half of her face, her lips were lush and full, and beneath them her chin came to an obstinate jut. At his approach, her gaze wandered over him for a brief second and came back, her eyes widening, not in recognition but in shock.

He sprang the trap.

‘I didn’t think you would recognise me, my lady.’ He kept his voice to a low whisper.

‘I do not,’ she said, turning that delicious shoulder to exactly the right angle for discouragement. ‘Have we been introduced?’

‘Sadly, no.’ At their meeting she had known his name, but he had not known hers. Now he took delight at putting her at the same disadvantage. She glanced at him again, clearly trying to see into the shadows of his hood.

‘Would you care to dance, my lady?’

Beside her, Lady Rowan eyed him up and down. ‘Lady Rowan,’ he murmured. ‘How regal you look tonight as Queen Elizabeth. Might you give your permission? I promise I will bring the Lady Theresa back to you safe and sound.’

The older woman relaxed at his polite tone and clear knowledge of who they were. ‘Certainly, sir. One set only, mind, Theresa.’

A tiny pursing of the Lady Theresa’s lips was the only sign of irritation at the admonition. He admired her forbearance. It must be galling for such an independent lady to be treated like a child.

‘Who are you?’ she asked with laughter in her voice as he led her into a set. ‘I didn’t think I knew you at all, but the way you bamboozled my cousin...’ She shook her head. ‘You must be an acquaintance to know she loves that costume.’

‘I admit I have seen it before.’

They moved up the set and the figures of the dance did not allow for conversation until they were standing out, waiting to join the neighbouring couples when the round of steps were complete.

‘I give up,’ she said. ‘You are going to have to tell me your name.’

‘The Grim Reaper.’

She raised her brows. ‘Very well, keep your identity hidden. It matters not to me.’

There was more than a little defiance in the declaration. For a moment, Jaimie considered revealing his identity. But that did not suit him at all. Not yet, at least. Having seen her, he now wanted to discover the reason this young lady had risked her reputation so precipitously by seeking him out. Perhaps her heart had been stolen away and it was the thief she was seeking?

Something he would not encourage.

‘Is not the whole idea of a masked ball to be someone else for an hour or two?’ he murmured in teasing tones.

‘Death?’ She made a scoffing sound. ‘Is that not a strange choice? Most men like to play some sort of heroic figure. You prefer to remind us of something unpleasant, yet something we must all face at some future time. I wonder what that says about you as a person?’

Her light clear voice held amusement and her brown eyes twinkled gold. She released his hand and moved into the next figure of the dance.

What did his choice of costume say about him? He pushed the thought aside. It was a disguise, that was all. A way of remaining anonymous. Of ensuring no tongues would start wagging about his first appearance at a ball in years, or his invitation to her to dance.

He found himself wishing it was a waltz he’d secured rather than a country dance. Only because it would have afforded more opportunity for conversation, not because he wanted that lovely, lithe, deliciously curved body floating along beside his and responding to his touch.

‘Am I to understand you dislike masquerades?’ he asked as he walked her down the set. ‘That you find them beneath you, perhaps?’

The fulminating look she gave him took him by surprise. ‘Masquerades are very well in their way. It is—’

‘It is?’

Another glance came his way. This one puzzled. Then she smiled and he felt as if something had struck him behind the ribs. ‘I think if one could attend under the right circumstances, it might be fun. If one could really do as one wished for once.’ She glanced over to where her cousin stood chatting and fanning her face. ‘One cannot have everything one wishes, can one?’

‘One cannot,’ he agreed.

Instinct told him that, despite her calm demeanour, there was an underlying worry behind the light words. The anxiety he’d sensed in his office seemed to have increased.

He’d deliberately led her into a set with an uneven number of couples and when once more they were standing out, he bowed. ‘It is uncommonly hot in here, my lady, may I offer you some refreshment before I return you to Queen Elizabeth’s side?’

‘As long as you don’t suggest we go bag a rabbit or two in the garden, I would like that.’

He laughed. Couldn’t help it. ‘Really? That was the best one of your swains could do?’

‘I should have known better than to have explained my costume to him or to have expected him to behave like anything but a fool.’

Startled by her vehemence, he led her out of the set.

‘A gentleman you know, I presume?’ he enquired.

‘Indeed. He thought he was being amusing. He actually suggested that the costume would serve me better without the bow. Fat lot he knows about Artemis,’ she muttered.

Jaimie took two glasses of the non-alcoholic punch which he knew without a doubt would be horrible. While the champagne would have been more fun, self-defence prevented him from being the cause of anything untoward. It is a gentleman’s duty to protect a lady, his father’s voice reminded. On that occasion, he had guided his mother around a puddle. Sort of. Only a little bit of her hem had trailed through it. It was one of the few mental images he had of his parents.

He guided Lady Tess towards the French doors. ‘Let us avail ourselves of the terrace. There are tables out there and waiters.’

For a moment he thought she might baulk. Again, she glanced over at her cousin, who was not looking their way. ‘We can ask her permission,’ he suggested. He was after all a wolf in sheep’s clothing and seeking permission was what a sheep would do.

She squared her shoulders. ‘No. I was out there once already. My cousin did not object.’

Her voice sounded grim. Who was the idiot who had annoyed her? Whoever he was, Jaimie could only thank him for sparking her spirit.

He ushered her to one of the tables on the terrace, seating her where the light from the nearby lantern would fall on her face while leaving him in shadow. He set her drink in front of her before sitting down.

‘Warm enough?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

Too bad. He’d had a notion to put his cape around her shoulders and let it absorb some of her perfume. The scent of lavender had lingered in his office all day. Serenity, grace and calmness in the language of flowers, along with that disturbing underlying meaning of distrust. All but the last seemed too milk and water for this spirited lady, though she had certainly shown calmness when she visited his office. Dianthus, for boldness, would suit her better. Though she had been veiled, so perhaps lemon flowers should be in the mix... His mother had made a great study of the language of flowers and her notes were one of the few items he treasured.

She sipped at the punch and made a face.

‘Terrible as usual?’ he asked, amused.

‘Awful.’ A smile curved those full lush lips. ‘It is all right at first and then...’ She gave a little shudder.

The movement did something to his blood. Made it run faster. Hotter. Not something he wanted in regard to this particular female. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Putting her at her ease so he could extract the information he wanted.

‘How are you enjoying the Season?’ A safe topic when it came to young ladies on the town. He sat back and waited to hear about all her conquests and gowns.

‘It is as bad as the previous one,’ she said with a small laugh.

How devastatingly honest. The hairs on his nape stood up. It was the same feeling he got when he started to get close to a criminal he was chasing. A sense of anticipation. It didn’t make any sense that he should feel it now, with her. ‘Why is that?’

‘I beg your pardon. You will think I am an ungrateful wretch after my cousin’s kindness in giving me this opportunity.’

‘Speaking the truth is not always a bad thing.’

She chuckled, a small rather painful sound. ‘It is if you are seeking a husband. Men expect a woman to be biddable and modest and not speak out of turn.’

‘I see.’

She twisted the stem of her glass, gazing down into the liquid. ‘My father encouraged me to offer my opinion, but to some I am ill-schooled.’ She pursed her lips thoughtfully and he experienced an urgent need to see if they tasted as exotic as they looked. ‘And here I am doing it again. If I’m not careful I’ll find myself packed off to Yorkshire.’

‘Why Yorkshire?’

‘My cousin has an aunt who lives there. She’s a—’ She stopped and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. ‘Why on earth am I telling you this?’

‘Because I’m a good listener? She is a...?’

‘She is an unhappy elderly lady who has already worked three companions into the ground.’

She had modified what she intended to say, but the meaning was clear. ‘You see yourself as number four.’

‘I will be if—’

He waited in silence. She would either tell him or she would not. For some strange reason, he really hoped she would.

The notion of hoping anything in regard to this forward young woman took him aback. Her worries were nothing to him. He was here for quite another purpose. The sooner he remembered that the better.

She glanced up at his face briefly, or at least into the darkness of his hood, yet somehow he sensed that she could see him when logic said she could not. Finally she dropped her gaze, staring down at her gloved hands. ‘This Season is my last chance to oblige my family.’

Was it not every well-bred girl’s duty to oblige her family? And yet she sounded so weary, so defeated, his skin tightened with the urge to rush to her defence. As infuriating as she had been at his office, this hopelessness was far worse.

Really? What nonsense. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He sipped at his drink and almost gagged when it hit the back of his throat. ‘Why so?’

She put her glass down with a little click. ‘It is not something I should be discussing with a stranger or anyone else for that matter.’ There was a forlorn note to her voice, though she tried to hide it with a smile.

‘Is there no one in whom you can confide?’ Now why had he asked that question? Of course, he knew why. He knew how alone he had felt growing up without his family. With only servants for company and a gruff guardian who came once a month to check on his progress. A surprising and unwanted flash of memory recalled a cousin who would now be around this young woman’s age, were she alive. Had she survived, she also would have been alone growing up. Because of him.

A pang squeezed the breath from his lungs. Regret for what might have been. For the loss. He forced it back where it belonged. Nothing could be gained by such maudlin thoughts. The cases were not at all similar. This girl clearly had a caring family who gave her everything she could possibly need. Young women loved their drama. It was likely all a storm in a teacup.

She shook her head. ‘There was someone,’ she said, with a small sad smile. ‘Not any more. He—’

He? A twinge of something unpleasant tightened his gut. Interesting. He would never have imagined feeling anything that hinted of jealousy. He waited. And waited. Would she say more? Reveal her innermost dreams and wishes. God, he hoped not. And yet clearly she had aroused his curiosity.

‘A...a childhood friend I haven’t seen for quite some time.’

A friend. The relief was out of all proportion to the information imparted. ‘What happened to him?’

‘He went away.’ She waved vaguely into the dark.

Why the hell did he have the feeling there was a great deal more to the story? Was this the person she’d wanted him to find?


Chapter Two (#u3d0c7096-aabe-5bbe-95e2-3d854006fb50)

Why was she telling him all this, Tess wondered. Was it his anonymity causing her to drop her guard? If so, it was bound to be a mistake. Tess glanced over her shoulder. No sign of her cousin. No hope of rescue there. And indeed, it was perfectly acceptable for a man to escort her outside where other couples and groups were sitting at tables surrounded by servants. It was hardly secluded, yet it somehow felt intimate. As if they were completely alone and confidences would be in order.

How did he do that? Give her the feeling he was trustworthy, when experience had taught her never to trust any man?

Why, she didn’t even know his name and yet she felt drawn to him. Was it the timbre of his voice? His aura of youth and health, despite the horrible costume?

Oh heavens, why had she worn the bow and quiver in the mode of a huntress? It was making breathing quite difficult. She slipped one arm out of the strap.

He was on his feet in a second. ‘Allow me.’

As he leaned close to ease the confounded thing over her head without disturbing her coiffure, she inhaled a deep breath of his cologne. The scent of sandalwood with another undertone...bergamot, perhaps. It seemed...familiar.

He placed the bow and quiver on the table between them and resumed his seat.

She stared into the depths of his hood, but even his eyes were shadowed. ‘Are you sure we haven’t met before?’

He placed a gloved hand above his heart. ‘I assure you, my lady, we have never been introduced before today.’

Surely his voice had a familiar ring to it...

‘You didn’t tell me what made you choose Artemis?’ The smile in his voice made her imagine a flash of white teeth in a handsome face. Oh, really? He was probably ancient, with a horrid moustache and a bald spot.

She sipped the nasty drink. Something hot and wicked coursed through her veins, the desire to shock him out of his nonchalance. Shatter the ease with which he lounged in his chair in complete anonymity. ‘She shoots men.’

Aha! It wasn’t much of a reaction, a slight shift in his posture, but it was something.

A ghostly laugh reached her ears. He wasn’t in the least discomposed. He was amused.

Something to admire about him at least. She grinned. ‘Rakehells beware. My arrow tips are sharp.’ He could take the warning however he pleased.

He reached for the arrows as if to test her words, then for some reason thought better of it. She frowned at the gloved hand resting on the table, curled inward, the little finger out of alignment.

‘Why did you choose Death?’ she asked.

‘It is easy to accomplish. A black cloak. A mask. A sickle I left at the door.’

His answer seemed evasive. Most irritating. She did not play such stupid games. ‘Shall we go back inside?’

‘As you wish.’

Lack of interest coloured his voice. Recognition dawned in a flash. The scent. The little finger. If not the low voice, then its mocking boredom. Oh! Such a cleverly worded denial about not having been introduced before today...

She leaped up, the chair falling backwards, clattering on the flagstones. ‘You!’

He was on his feet almost as quickly. ‘Lady Tess.’ His hand grabbed her arm as she staggered, unbalanced. ‘Take care.’

She wrenched her arm away. ‘What game are you playing, Lord Sandford?’

‘My lady. You are mistaken—’

‘No. I am not. How did you find me? And more to the point, why bother after you turned down my request?’ Oh, heaven help her, he was going to expose her to her cousin. The wretch.

‘I thought to return this.’ He retrieved a small item from the folds of his cloak. The pearl ring she’d sold. ‘A lady should never sell her jewels using her own name if she wants to keep their disappearance a secret.’

She snatched it out of his hand and forced it on over her glove. ‘A gentleman doesn’t go sneaking around following a lady.’ Oh, no! Now people at the other tables were looking at them. ‘I suppose you plan to tell my guardian?’

He took her arm. ‘Don’t make a scene, young lady. Think of your reputation.’

‘Bah. No one knows who we are and no one cares. It is a masquerade.’

‘By morning gossip will abound. Your costume fools no one.’

‘Whereas yours is the perfect disguise.’ How like a man to avoid taking any responsibility.

He held out an arm. ‘Come, let us take a turn about the shrubbery as if that was our intention for getting up all along. I am told it is quite beautiful at night.’

‘It is dark. We won’t be able to see a thing.’

‘Even better.’

She swallowed the urge to laugh at his scorn of the poor shrubbery. Tried to hang on to her anger.

‘Very well, but I expect an explanation of your behaviour.’ She snatched up her bow and slung it over one shoulder. ‘And don’t even think about trying anything untoward. I did not lie when I said my arrows were sharp.’

‘Last thing I need is an arrow in my backside,’ he muttered low in her ear. Not quite the voice she’d heard this morning—this time there was laughter in it. How surprising. And attractive. And intriguing.

Dash it all, the man was a menace.

Also surprising were the lanterns all along the garden path. Soon they were out of earshot of the couples on the terrace, but not in the dark and not out of sight if anyone had cared to look for them.

‘Well?’ she asked peremptorily.

‘Well what?’

She started to turn back. ‘I see you are still playing games.’

He held her fast by the crook of her elbow, his hand firm but not painful in its restraint.

‘Let me go.’

‘It is no game when a respectable young lady comes alone to the chambers of a bachelor.’

The emphasis on the word game sounded bitter. ‘What are you suggesting, sir?’

‘That you took a risk with my reputation as well as your own. I have no intention of being forced into marriage.’

She gasped. Blood ran hot through her veins. Tension had her shaking. ‘You think I would marry you? I don’t like you, sir. Not one bit. I gave you my reason for coming to see you this morning. You gave me your answer. We have no need for further communication.’

‘How can you say you don’t like me? You don’t even know me.’ Again he sounded amused. He was like a cat playing with a mouse. A very large self-satisfied cat.

‘You will return me to my cousin at once,’ she said with all the dignity she could muster.

‘But what about this person you need found?’

‘Do not trouble yourself, my lord. I have made other plans.’

‘It would be no trouble to me. Others, however, might take weeks to find your answer. I had the impression your matter was urgent.’

Oooh, he was so very annoying! Even if he did have the right to boast. ‘I have changed my mind.’

He turned her to face him, bending to peer into her face as if he could read her expression behind the mask. ‘I don’t believe you.’

While she could not see his face, his intensity made her breathing quicken and her heart flutter strangely.

He tipped her chin with a finger, staring into her eyes. Mesmerised, she could not move. ‘Let me take you driving tomorrow and you can tell me all about it.’

At the graze of his breath across her cheek, her insides tightened. He dropped his hand as if burned. Had he sensed her reaction? Oh goodness, she hoped not.

Panicked by her untoward response to his touch, she opened her mouth to refuse. Closed it again as her brain overtook her emotions. This was what she had wanted, was it not? His help. ‘Very well. I will, of course, return the money you paid for my ring.’

‘I don’t want your money.’

There was a seductive note in his voice. Her body trembled. Shocked, she gazed up into the void where his face should be, a face she could see in her mind’s eye. She had no trouble recalling the mocking smile on his lips. ‘What do you want?’

She had meant to sound impatient. Dismissive. Instead she sounded scared. Weak.

‘I will inform you when we meet tomorrow.’

She wanted to argue, but she also wanted to find Grey. Seething, she walked at his side, trying to think of suitably cutting words.

He turned them back towards the terrace, strolling as if there were no undercurrents rippling beneath the surface of their silence.

At the French doors, she dipped a curtsy. ‘Thank you for a pleasant dance and conversation.’

‘Pleasant?’ he murmured.

Really, the man was impossible. On legs that felt stiff and awkward, with a heart pounding loudly in her ears, she marched in the direction she had last seen Wilhelmina. When she glanced back, he was gone.

Oh heavens, what would he want? And how far was she prepared to go with this man? Her stomach gave an odd little pulse.

Dash it, she would insist on gentlemanly behaviour, no matter what.

* * *

Jaimie had spent the half the morning expecting a note from Lady Tess politely refusing their engagement to drive. And the other half being annoyed by his lack of concentration on his work.

He wasn’t certain whether he was pleased or sorry when no such note made an appearance. Of course there was a good possibility that he would arrive at the Rowan front door and be informed that her ladyship was out.

And that would be that.

Whatever had possessed him to invite her to go driving, anyway? It wasn’t as if she was the sort of woman whose company he enjoyed. She was prickly and combative. A less subtle female he couldn’t imagine. She didn’t even know how to flirt. They might have traded all kinds of barbs about those arrows in her quiver.

Yet surprisingly, he’d enjoyed her directness and her willingness to confront him. He’d always thought debutantes an insipid, simpering lot. What he did not like, however, was that she had occupied too much of his thoughts these past few hours. He kept wondering how she had recognised him beneath his costume. Something had given him away. Perhaps she’d tell him what it was at their meeting. He certainly would not ask. He intended to keep their relationship strictly business.

He pulled his phaeton up outside the town house and his liveried tiger jumped down and held the horses’ heads while he knocked on the front door.

‘I’ll let her ladyship know you are here, my lord. Will you come in?’ the butler said.

‘I’ll wait out here. My tiger has the horses, but they’re a mite fresh.’

‘Very good, my lord.’ The butler closed the door.

Not instant rejection then. He returned to his phaeton.

A few moments later Lady Tess tripped down the steps followed by an elderly maid. Last night she’d looked like a tasty morsel in her figure-hugging Greek robe. Today she almost looked like any other young lady of the nobility. Her pale green-and-white-striped carriage dress came up high at the throat, with several tiers of ruffles up to her chin. The gown fell to the ground with a festoon of flounces around the hem. A leghorn bonnet decorated with flowers and ribbons the colour of the dress perched on her head—but a few chestnut curls framed her astonishingly lovely face, perfect in shape and proportion, except perhaps for that stubborn little chin.

It would be easy to dismiss her as an empty-headed beauty if one did not see the underlying determination in her expression and the intelligence in those amber eyes. Had she arrived at his chambers without her veil, he might have dismissed her as a pretty little schemer out for his title. Had it been cleverness on her part, or a lack of artifice?

She raised an eyebrow and he realised he’d been staring. He came forward to escort her to the carriage.

She tutted. ‘How are we to fit three people?’

‘One at the back and two on the seat.’

He grinned at the horror on the maid’s face.

‘He means his tiger, Mims,’ Lady Tess said, frowning. ‘It is an open carriage. You are not needed.’

The maid curtsied and scurried back indoors. Lady Tess, meanwhile, wandered a little way along the path.

‘Changed your mind?’ he drawled. He certainly didn’t care if she drove with him or not. Well, not much at least.

‘Not at all. I was admiring your horses. It is not often one sees a pair so perfectly matched, although the offside one is a little heavier in build, I believe.’

His jaw dropped. No one but his own very expert groom had noted the slight discrepancy in the horses’ bone structure. ‘Got an eye for a bit of blood and bone, have you, my lady?’ Damn it, that was not the smoothest thing he could have said.

‘I like to see a nicely matched pair. My father had a pair of beautiful steppers. I would love to drive them.’ She leaned towards them, stretching out a hand as if to pat Romulus. The brute showed the whites of his eyes.

Jaimie started forward. ‘Be careful.’

She stopped before she got too close. ‘Testy, is he?’

‘Always. And, no, you may not drive them.’ Never again would any woman drive his horses.

The expected pout did not make an appearance. Instead, she cast him an expressive look. ‘We’ll leave that discussion for later.’

That discussion was closed. He assisted her up on to the phaeton and, on the way around to climb into the driver’s seat, he spoke to his tiger in a low voice. ‘When we reach the park you can take yourself off. I’ll pick you up at the gate for the drive back.’

The lad touched his cap. ‘Yes, me lord. But stir yer stumps, would ya? His fussiness would like to be orf.’

Jaimie stroked ‘his fussiness’ along his neck and down his wither and the horse settled before he sprang into the carriage and took up the reins. The boy leaped up behind.

The animals weren’t quite as energetic as they had been on the drive over, but they were still feeling their bits. He urged them into a spanking trot, feathering between a couple of slower carriages and into a break in the traffic. Lady Tess sat calmly with her hands in her lap, clearly trusting him not to tip her into the road.

Most normal ladies were notoriously nervous about anything that looked the least bit hazardous. Then there were the reckless ones, like his first wife, who took ridiculous risks. Clearly, Lady Tess fell into the latter camp. And he was a twice-born fool to get involved with her nonsense.

‘We are fortunate the weather is clear today,’ he said as they turned the corner at the end of the street. Weather being the safest topic of conversation.

‘After the rain of the past few days, we are fortunate indeed,’ she replied coolly.

As they entered Hyde Park, many heads turned in their direction. Open mouths and wide eyes abounded. News of his driving Lady Tess would be all around town by the end of the evening. His teeth gritted at the thought, but it couldn’t be helped. There were only so many respectable ways to talk to a lady in relative private and this was one of them.

The gossips would be jumping to all kinds of conclusions. Did she know that? The horses slowed to a funereal pace as they joined the traffic mincing down Rotten Row.

His tiger jumped down and hared off.

Lady Tess frowned.

He was getting quite a few frowns today. ‘I told him to go, because I do not want our conversation overheard.’

The frown cleared. ‘Where better to be alone than in plain view of the world.’ She chuckled. ‘I can see why you are good at what you do.’

‘What I do?’ He quirked a brow.

‘Finding people. Investigating things.’

Damn that article, though few knew the real depth of his ‘investigations’ as she had called them. And it was as good a time as any to get to the point of this drive, even if he was enjoying her company more than he would have imagined. ‘Who is it you want me to find?’

She hesitated. ‘May I have your assurance you will keep my confidence, no matter what?’

He probably ought to be insulted by her question. Indeed, on one level he was insulted. On another, the fact that she was even considering giving him her trust felt like an incredible compliment. Why would that be?

‘Why are you smiling in that mocking way?’ she asked. ‘Did I say something you find foolish?’

Prickly little thing. ‘I didn’t realise I was smiling.’ But if he was mocking anyone, it was himself. At the way she kept surprising him. ‘And, yes, you can be assured that anything you tell me will remain confidential.’

She drew in a deep breath, drawing his attention to the snug fit of her carriage dress. To the way it moulded to the soft curves and hollows of her petite form. He turned his eyes resolutely to his horses. He was not here to flirt with the woman. He was here because she needed his help, despite that she irritated him beyond endurance.

‘I am trying to locate my father’s bailiff, Mr Freeps. He left for another position shortly after my father died.’

Not what he had expected at all. He had been waiting for something along the lines of the boy she had spoken of, or another sold or pawned item she wanted back.

‘Surely your cousin’s man of business would have this information?’

‘Yes, and he would immediately report my request to my cousin.’

‘I see.’

‘What do you see?’

The defiance in her voice, her wariness of his motives, struck him on the raw.

He gave her an impatient glance. ‘I see why you do not wish to go to your cousin’s man of business. Why exactly do you wish to find this man Freeps?’

‘Why is that any of your concern?’

‘And when I find him, what then?’

‘If you find him, you will provide me with his address. That is all.’ She pressed her lips together.

‘Lady Tess, I realise you and I are not well acquainted and I am sure I have no interest in your secrets, but I do not work for anyone unless I know the full story. For example, should you wish to accuse this servant of theft, I would need to know this, so he is not forewarned.’

She stiffened at the word theft. He pretended not to notice.

‘If, however, it is simply your intention to reassure yourself of this person’s wellbeing, I can include that sort of information in my report.’

Her hands clenched in her lap.

‘It isn’t either of those things, is it?’

‘No.’ Her voice was low and being held under tight control. ‘I need to ask him something. In person.’

He frowned. ‘Something of a private nature, then?’

‘Yes.’

Damn the woman. What on earth was she hiding?

* * *

Lord Sandford was the most annoying creature Tess had ever met. Why couldn’t he simply do as she asked? ‘There is no reason for you to know anything apart from the name of the person I would like found and their last-known address. I would have known this had I not been absent from home at the time of his departure.’

She had been prostrate after her father had died and Cousin Phin had packed her off to an aunt in Bath to recover her wits.

‘Are you implying there is some sort of injustice you hope to redress?’

The surprise in his voice irritated her beyond rational thought. ‘Is that so impossible to believe?’ Unfortunately, it was far more selfish than that. She ignored a pang of guilt. After all, he might be more likely to help her if he thought her reason altruistic rather than self-serving.

A sudden urge to tell him the whole truth, to tell him about Greydon, took her aback. She couldn’t. What if he told Rowan? She dared not take the chance.

His voice dropped to a low seductive murmur. ‘You have not yet heard my price for undertaking this service.’

Her stomach gave a little hop. She risked a glance at his face to find him looking at her with a small smile on his lips as if he was once more amused.

She swallowed. It was the one thing that had kept her awake all night. What on earth would he demand as payment? He had said at the masquerade that he didn’t want money. Heat scalded her cheeks. ‘Tell me.’

‘Before I impart this person’s whereabouts to you, you will tell me the real reason you wish to find him. The full truth. I will have your word on that.’

‘You would trust my word?’

‘Why would I not? I trust until a person proves unworthy.’

‘And if they do prove untrustworthy?’

‘Then I seek retribution.’

A shiver passed over her skin at the hint of menace in his words. She glanced over at him, trying to read his expression, but he seemed completely focused on guiding the horses out through the gate and there was no way of guessing what might be on his mind.

‘Well?’ he asked when they had moved into the traffic on Park Lane.

‘I accept.’ She would simply have to tell him a truth that did not lead to Grey and if he didn’t like it, too bad. She handed him a piece of paper with Freeps’s full name on it and some other bits of information about his family she had remembered that might come in useful. ‘This should help you find him.’

He tucked the note into his waistcoat pocket without even so much as a glance. No doubt he’d be handing it off to one of his minions since it was likely he had far more important clients requiring his services.

Resentment tightened her chest. She took a deep breath. She could not afford resentment. His offer was what she had wanted all along.

Life was becoming exceedingly complex. What with Cousin Rowan and now Lord Sandford, she felt as if she was walking through a meadow full of cows. One misstep would cause no end of mess.

A new topic of conversation was needed. ‘Where is the Sandford estate?’

He stiffened. ‘Why do you want to know?’

Hah! What an interesting reaction. ‘No reason. I am simply making polite conversation. It is something I can easily look up in Debrett’s should I be interested enough. Which I really am not.’

He made an odd sound, like a laugh being turned into a cough. ‘Touché, Lady Tess.’

‘We are not engaged in a battle, Lord Sandford.’

‘Merely a war of words.’ Again that disdainfully amused tone in his voice.

They neared the corner of Piccadilly. He slowed just enough to let his tiger leap up behind them. She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Isn’t that a little dangerous?’

‘Na, miss. I does it all the time. Saves getting the horses all of a bother.’

She blinked, surprised the tiger had answered her directly. The Earl said nothing when she had expected him to issue an admonition to the lad for impertinence. She was surprised yet glad when he did not.

‘Sandford is in Derbyshire.’

So he had decided to be civil after all. ‘I have never been there. I grew up in Kent.’ She gave a little shiver. ‘I hear it is cold and rainy in the north.’

‘It can be rather bleak in winter, can it not, Remmy?’

‘Yes, me lord. Proper chilly.’

‘But it has a stark beauty that grows on one.’ He sounded almost wistful.

The north must have some redeeming qualities, she supposed. ‘Do you go there in the summer?’

‘I never go there if I can help it.’ The words were spoken in a flat tone of voice.

She bit her tongue to stop herself from asking why. Theirs was a business relationship, nothing more. He didn’t seem to be the sort of man who would take kindly to someone prying into his personal life.

‘I would miss not visiting my home.’ Her chest squeezed painfully. Unless she could get her bracelet back, it was likely she would never see it again.

Lord Sandford cast her a sideways glance. ‘Is something wrong?’

She realised she was gripping the side of the carriage for all she was worth. She dropped her hand into her lap. ‘Not a thing.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Come now, Lady Tess, your expression was one of pure horror.’

‘I should be more careful with my thoughts, should I not?’ Particularly around him. He noticed too much.

He frowned. ‘Is there something you are not telling me? Something with which I can help?’

Hope lifted her heart. No. What was she thinking? He would never understand a woman desiring to make her own life choices rather than be dependent on a man, be that a husband or a cousin. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to think clearly. She gave him a tight smile. ‘I think it would be unwise to accept any offer of assistance from you, Lord Sandford. Who knows what sort of price you would set?’

The tiger gave a little snigger.

‘Round two also to you, Lady Tess.’

He pulled up at her cousin’s front door. ‘It has been a pleasure.’

‘When will I hear from you?’

‘When I have something to report.’

She wanted to press him, but did not dare in case he changed his mind. Men were such obstinate, fickle creatures.

He jumped down and escorted her to the door where he bowed over her hand. ‘I will let you know when I have news.’

The butler opened the door to his knock.

Sandford touched his hat. ‘Good day, Lady Tess. Thank you for a pleasant afternoon.’ He sauntered back to his carriage.

Blasted man. He really was the most annoying individual she had ever met. He thought he could get away with anything just because he was rich and handsome.

So very handsome. If any man could be described as an Adonis, it was he. And he drove to an inch, handling the ribbons with expert ease. It had been impossible not to notice all the ladies casting admiring glances his way.

Pah. What did that have to do with anything?


Chapter Three (#u3d0c7096-aabe-5bbe-95e2-3d854006fb50)

Two days had passed since Tess had given Lord Sandford the information about Freeps and there was still no word. All morning she had been sitting in the drawing room with her needlework in hand, listening for the arrival of the mail.

And when it came, she had received nothing.

She was being foolish. Too anxious. A single gentleman did not write notes to a single lady who was not a relative or an intended. She certainly had no wish to set alarm bells ringing in Wilhelmina’s feather brain. If they thought Lord Sandford was trifling with her, they’d have her sent north in the blink of an eye. Or they would if Mr Stedman wasn’t still showing a marked interest in her.

Wilhelmina drifted in wearing her Phineas-has-issued-an-edict face. Edicts had been issued more and more frequently of late. Tess tensed.

‘Good morning, Theresa,’ Wilhelmina said with a vague smile. ‘I missed you at breakfast and couldn’t find you anywhere afterwards.’

Worse and worse. Tess let her needlework fall into her lap and forced a cheerful smile. ‘I went for my usual early morning walk.’ The walk her cousin did not approve of.

Wilhelmina’s glance sharpened. ‘With your maid, I assume.’

Poor old Mims was far too old to be trotting along at the pace Tess preferred. ‘I took one of the footmen.’

‘Carver gave his approval?’

Tess gritted her teeth. ‘He did.’

A vaguely disgruntled expression flitted across her cousin’s face. ‘That is good then. He always complains to me when his schedule for the day is altered without his knowledge.’

That wasn’t it at all. Wilhelmina loved her role of Countess and she loved catching Tess out in one mistake or another. Tess had quickly learned how to avoid her traps. Not that Wilhelmina realised Tess was on to her. She was far too self-absorbed.

Her cousin took the chaise longue and reclined along its length. ‘Ring for tea, there’s a dear.’

She could have rung for tea before she sat down, but it amused her to treat Tess like a servant. Tess put her embroidery aside and got up to tug on the bell pull beside the hearth.

‘How is your work coming along?’ Wilhelmina asked the moment she sat down.

‘Very well. I have it half done.’ She was embroidering a cushion cover for her trousseau at Wilhelmina’s suggestion.

‘May I see?’

Wilhelmina accounted herself an expert needlewoman, though she rarely set a stitch herself. Tess thought it might be because she was becoming short-sighted and didn’t want to wear spectacles.

She took the piece over. Her cousin sat up and made a space for her on the chaise.

Oh, yes, she definitely had some instruction to impart from dearest Phin. Tess sank down beside her. ‘I only have one bird left to finish.’

Wilhelmina held the fabric up to the light. ‘I think you need a couple more French knots here. See, there’s a space. What do you think?’

Dash it, the woman was right. The French knots had taken her for ever to complete and had made her fingers sore. She had known a few more were needed, but didn’t think anyone would notice. ‘Thank you for pointing it out, Cousin. I’ll be sure to fill in the gaps.’

With a self-satisfied smile, Wilhelmina handed the work back. ‘I did tell you we are attending the Halliwells’ ball on Friday, did I not?’

‘You did, indeed.’

‘Which gown will you wear?’

Tess mentally ran through her meagre wardrobe. She had already decided which gown to wear, but if she named it, Wilhelmina was sure to prefer a different one. ‘The pale green, I think. I like something with a bit of colour.’

True to form, Wilhelmina frowned. ‘Not for the Halliwells. All the younger ladies will be wearing white.’

‘Hmm. There is the white-and-silver tissue, I suppose.’

‘You have worn that one at least four times. People will start to talk. No. Wear the one with the roses festooned at the hem and neckline.’

Tess bowed her head in compliance and to hide her smile. It was the dress she had planned to wear all along.

How much nicer this would have all been if she could have been friends with her cousin’s wife. They could have enjoyed this Season together as. Instead it was a battle of wits and Wilhelmina had so few of them it was becoming quite boring.

‘Why not wear your mother’s diamonds? They will look perfect with that gown. Phineas reminded me only this morning that you have never worn them.’

The breath rushed from her lungs. She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I...umm... I am not sure where her bracelet is.’ She winced at how feeble she sounded. ‘I put it away somewhere. The clasp was broken.’

‘You don’t know where you put a diamond bracelet? Well, I must say, that is careless in the extreme. Have that maid of yours look for it and we will send it to Rundell & Bridge for repair.’

‘I hate to put Phin to the expense,’ Tess managed. ‘Who knows how much it might cost?’

Wilhelmina frowned. ‘I shall have to ask him what he thinks. In the meantime, please find it.’

Tess nodded. ‘Yes, Cousin. I will do so.’ The reprieve would give her time to think up some more plausible excuse as to where the bracelet had gone. Right now her brain seemed to have frozen solid. She began to relax.

‘Oh, and by the way, Theresa...’

Tess tensed again. ‘By the way’ always heralded Phin’s less pleasant admonitions and instructions.

‘As you know, my dearest Phineas has your best interests in mind and he has agreed to meet with Mr Stedman to discuss,’ her voice rose to an excited squeak, ‘the settlements.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘Isn’t it exciting?’

Tess stared at her cousin’s wife. ‘Mr Stedman hasn’t yet asked for my permission to approach Phin. I thought...’

Her voice tailed off at Wilhelmina’s annoyed expression.

‘Phin said I might have a little more time,’ she continued valiantly. ‘I hardly know the man.’

‘It is a preliminary discussion only,’ Wilhelmina said, but her expression was just a little too smug. ‘You know, if you wish to get to know a gentleman, you must make an effort to spend more time in his company. Phin is concerned that Mr Stedman might ask for repayment of your father’s debts at any moment, particularly if he is made to wait too long for your answer.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘If only your father hadn’t left the estate in such a mess, we wouldn’t be in this position. You do understand, do you not?’

A pang of guilt twisted in Tess’s chest. Until after his death, she’d had no idea Papa had borrowed a large sum money from Mr Stedman. Perhaps she could have helped him avoid such a thing if only she had known. Perhaps he would have avoided the accident with his gun.

Her blood ran cold. ‘Yes, Wilhelmina. I do understand.’

A sly look crossed the other woman’s face. ‘Who was that gentlemen dressed as the grim reaper at the masquerade the other night? You never did say. You wasted a good deal of the evening in his company.’

Her stomach sank. ‘I have no idea. I thought you knew him. He left before the unmasking. And it was only one dance.’

‘You did go outside with him.’

‘I also went outside with Mr Stedman.’

Wilhelmina pressed her lips tightly together for a moment. ‘Well, I am glad we have had this little talk. I am sure you will do your utmost to assist your family. I will see you at dinner.’

Accepting her dismissal, Tess tidied up her needlework and traipsed up to her chamber. Now she was really in trouble. How was it Phin had recalled her mother’s bracelet when he had not mentioned it once in the past year? If she was going to avoid marriage to Stedman, she needed to find Grey quickly.

* * *

‘There is a person to see you, my lord.’

‘A person?’ Jaimie looked up from his paperwork and recoiled at the odd look on Rider’s face. One of shocked indignation.

He frowned. Some of the men he employed at the agency were of the rough-and-ready sort, but none of them would come here to visit him. They would go to Growler by way of the back door. Growler was ostensibly his secretary and lived in. The butler no longer took any notice of Growler’s comings and goings, much as he disapproved of the erstwhile bruiser.

‘Did he give his name, Rider?’

‘It is not a he, my lord.’

Jaimie pushed to his feet. ‘A woman?’

Rider sniffed. ‘A female, my lord, who refuses to state her business either to Growler or to me and refuses to leave without seeing you.’ He coughed behind his hand. ‘Growler thinks you will want to see her, but I can have a footman—’

‘Growler thought...’ It must be an informant. Jaimie raised a hand. ‘I had best see her. Bring tea, would you, Rider?’ He might as well take a proper break from what he was doing, now he had been interrupted, rather than continue to sit staring into space. ‘Make sure you put biscuits on the tray.’ Nothing like one of cook’s biscuits to loosen an unwilling tongue.

‘Very well, my lord.’ He stepped back.

An oddly rotund figure in an old black woollen cloak, its hood drawn low so as to hide the wearer’s face, sidled around the butler and into the room.

‘Hey, you!’ Rider said. ‘I told you to wait.’

Jaimie let out a shocked laugh. ‘It’s all right, Rider. Fetch the tea, please.’

With a huff of annoyance, Rider departed, his whole demeanour imparting the silent news that if this sort of thing continued, a man of his dignity would be handing in his notice.

She pushed the hood back to reveal a floppy mobcap. The only thing that looked the least bit like her was her face.

‘Who are you supposed to be now, Lady Tess? I must say, I prefer Artemis.’

‘Hah,’ she said, but there was a smile in her eyes he had never seen before. A naughty smile that hit him low and tightened his body in places a gentleman was required to ignore in the presence of a lady.

She threw off the cloak and untied the sash holding two pillows, one at her front and the other in the small of her back. ‘It’s not funny. I am dashed hot.’

He tamped down the urge to smile. Fought the allure of her lush body. His first wife had been tall, elegant and slender, while Lady Tess was all soft curves and tempting dimples. But it seemed in temperament, the ladies were much the same. The last thing he wanted was to be drawn into Lady Tess’s orbit.

He retreated into studied indifference. ‘This really is beyond the pale, you know,’ he said in bored tones.

‘It was the only way to escape the house unnoticed.’

He frowned. ‘That is not what I meant and you know it. No lady should visit a gentleman’s abode in the middle of the night.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘Good heavens, girl, it’s gone one in the morning.’

‘I had to wait until everyone was asleep.’ She grinned and he had to stop himself from grinning back. ‘Also I thought I might be more likely to catch you at home after midnight.’

Naive child. In his wilder days, he’d rarely come home before three in the morning, and if he was home, she might have caught him at home with a houseful of guests enjoying themselves in ways no respectable lady should be aware of. These days, he preferred to spend his time in the conservatory, with his plants. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Do you do this sort of thing often?’

‘Not any more. When I was at school in Bath, I and some of the other girls used to sneak out to get decent food, like cake and ice cream.’

‘Good Lord! What a hoyden you are.’

She waved a dismissive hand. ‘That is not important. Have you found Freeps?’

‘As promised, I sent a man to Kent the moment I came back from our drive.’

‘When do you expect his return?’

‘Tomorrow or the day after. I had some other errands for him to perform while he was there.’

She shook her head and paced to his desk, picking up the silver letter opener and putting it down again. ‘He will be too late.’

‘What is the urgency?’

She stared at him. For a moment he thought she might tell him the whole story. She shook her head. ‘Circumstances beyond my control.’

The worry in her eyes gave him pause. She wasn’t the sort to worry. She was the sort to solve a problem. Case in point, her visiting him at his office and her arrival at his house tonight. A most irritating sort of a woman. The managing kind. Yet for some reason her expression of anxiety still troubled him. Hester, his first wife, had done things she wasn’t supposed to just because someone told her she couldn’t. Lady Tess, however, seemed to have a purpose behind her mad starts. For some reason far beyond rational thought, he wanted to uncover that purpose.

Rider brought in the tea tray. His eyebrows climbed to his hairline when he saw this new version of Jaimie’s guest. He put the tray down with a decided bang. Cups and saucers rattled ominously.

Jaimie glared at his butler, but the man was right. This situation was completely improper and had to stop. And it would as soon as he’d solved the problem that had brought her to his door. ‘Sit down. Have a cup of tea.’

‘I can’t stay long. Someone might go into my room and find Mims there instead of me.’ But she did sit.

To his surprise, he liked the sight of her sitting in front of his teapot.

She gave him a startled look when he sat next to her rather than opposite. Dammit, she really was an innocent. If she had gone to any other man’s house at such a late hour she might have discovered herself in serious difficulty.

He waited until she had poured the tea, had drunk it and eaten a biscuit. ‘Perhaps you would like to tell me exactly what circumstances have changed?’

She put down her cup. ‘Things are moving more quickly than I anticipated. Freeps may be able to put me in touch with someone I need to speak to. Urgently.’

‘Then why not say so before? My messenger could have asked him for this other person’s directions. Why are you being so dashed secretive?’

‘Some secrets are not mine to tell.’

He stilled, instinct honing in not on the words, but the softening of her voice and the sadness in her expression.

‘A man?’ he asked, his voice icy. He should have seen this coming. This was just the sort of romantic idiocy Hester would have engaged in.

She swallowed, looking torn. He didn’t care what came out of her mouth, a man was involved. And she was dragging him into the mess. Hester had played him for a fool more than once, and in the end it had caused her death. But he had learned his lesson far too well.

He stood up and carried the tea tray to his desk. ‘I’m sorry, there is nothing more I can do. I will pass along the information regarding Freeps when my messenger returns and that will be an end to it. It is time for you to leave.’

When he turned back, she had risen. The look of betrayal in her remarkable brown eyes stopped him short. Against his better judgement, he gentled his tone. ‘I cannot assist you in some sort of clandestine relationship, Lady Tess.’

Her gaze slid away. ‘It is no such thing, I swear it! I cannot imagine why would you think so.’

He prowled towards her. ‘Can you not?’ Then he must make her understand. Give her a lecture of the avuncular sort. Point out the error of her ways, and the possible consequences...

But as he gazed into her lovely face, the words he sought escaped him.

She lifted her chin, gazing up at him with a tiny frown on her brow. Without another thought, he leaned closer and brushed his lips across the silk of her luscious mouth. Tasted the lush plump curve that had been a temptation from first sight.

Her lips parted on a gasp of shock, but she did not draw back. If anything, she leaned a little closer.

He firmed the kiss, lingering over the soft sweet pressure of her mouth on his, feeling her body soften, hesitant and trembling, but eager. She made a small sound low in her throat, half moan, half something he couldn’t name. He stroked a finger down her cheek, tasted her sigh.

He flicked his tongue along her bottom lip, a tiny little sip of innocence that was only a beginning.

Innocent.

He broke away, stifling a curse. What the devil was he thinking? The woman was far too alluring for her own good was what he was thinking.

She gazed at him wide-eyed. Her tongue touched her bottom lip in a brief exploration, as if she, too, could not quite believe what had occurred.

Should not have occurred.

‘That is why you should not come to a gentleman’s lodgings in the middle of the night. It could lead to something...untoward.’ He kept his tone cool, but damn it all, his blood was running hot. And his breathing was nowhere as steady as it should have been. ‘When my messenger returns I will give you the information you asked me to acquire. At that point I wash my hands of the whole business.’

With seeming difficulty, she regained control of her breathing. Good. He hoped she was suffering from the same sort of discomfort he was. Embarrassment, mostly.

Her shoulders straightened. ‘I expected better behaviour from a gentleman.’

Typical. Now she was blaming him, as if he had invited her here. He glared at her. ‘You should not go to any man’s house without a chaperon if you place a smidgeon of value on your reputation.’

She turned her face away from him. ‘Well I certainly won’t do it again, will I?’

Dear God, was she going to cry? Guilt assailed him. Dammit, she was the one in the wrong, not him. But grudgingly, he found himself saying, ‘Tell me who it is you actually seek, and I will decide whether or not to assist you further.’ What the hell was he getting involved in?

She paused in picking up her cloak and threw him a glance of dislike. He gritted his teeth against the desire to apologise for his brusqueness.

‘The friend from my childhood I spoke of at the masquerade.’ Fury sparked in her eyes when he curled his lip. ‘He is a friend. Nothing more.’ Her hands clasped together at her waist, her knuckles showing white. ‘He is in a position to assist me with a small problem.’

Hell and damnation. His horrified gaze went straight to her waist. ‘What problem?’

She flushed. ‘You are horrible, you know that? And it is none of your business. I simply need to find him.’

If she wasn’t being so mysterious, he wouldn’t be jumping to conclusions. He frowned. Perhaps she feared some sort of blackmail? A letter written to a lover? Something given away that did not belong to her?

Keeping such secrets always ended in disaster. ‘You should ask for help from your cousin.’

‘I cannot.’

This friend obviously meant a great deal to her if she was prepared to take such risks. Perhaps it was a friendship as she said, or perhaps it was more. He suspected the latter despite her denials. Clearly, though, she was not going to tell him anything more unless he could find a chink in her armour. ‘What is the worst your cousin is likely to do, if you tell him? Send you to his aunt in Yorkshire?’

Her spine stiffened. ‘Did you have to mention her?’

Trying to make her see sense was getting him nowhere. He couldn’t think why he was bothering. ‘I will send you a note the moment I have the information you seek.’

‘No. My cousin will wonder...’

Now she cared about the proprieties. He smiled a grim smile. ‘And now you know the reason your family tries to protect you.’

She coloured, no doubt recalling their kiss.

‘Well then, what engagement do you have tomorrow night?’ he asked.

She looked startled.

‘I am invited to all the best places, you know.’ He swallowed the urge to chuckle at her look of chagrin. ‘I promise you, I will be discreet.’

‘We are to attend Lady Bloomfield’s musicale tomorrow evening.’

‘Very good. I will see you there. In the meantime, let me get you back into your disguise and send you home in my carriage. You should not be wandering the streets at this time of the morning.’

She gasped. ‘I couldn’t possibly arrive in your carriage. Someone might see it.’

This time he laughed. ‘Do you think I am not up to snuff when it comes to intrigue? My dear Lady Tess, the carriage will be unmarked and it will drop you around the corner from your cousin’s house, but my driver will ensure you go inside before he leaves.’ He’d make sure Growler drove her home. He would find the location of this Freeps and that would be an end of the imbroglio. He had enough going on in his life, without adding the problem of a woman who didn’t trust him an inch.

Thank goodness when he decided to take a wife again, it would be a nice, quiet girl who would be happy embroidering handkerchiefs, producing his heirs and behaving herself with decorum. He wished he’d married a woman like that the first time. A woman more like his mother. A faint bedtime memory of a sweet voice singing drifted across his mind. He tried to recall her face, but it drifted away like smoke on a breeze.

Bitterness filled him. He had so few memories of his parents and they were getting more and more elusive. Forcing his mind back to the present, he picked up the sash and one of the pillows. ‘Come on, then. Let’s get you ready.’

The sooner she left, the sooner he could get back to what was important.

And yet as he tied the sash around her now bulky form his unruly body expressed a strong desire to take her out of her clothes, not bundle her up.

Dammit.


Chapter Four (#u3d0c7096-aabe-5bbe-95e2-3d854006fb50)

The Bloomfield music room was full to bursting. Seated in a row near the front, only by sheer willpower did Tess squash the urge to look over her shoulder to see where Sandford was seated.

‘Sit still, Theresa,’ Wilhelmina hissed. She glanced worriedly at the man on Tess’s other side, the man whom Phin wanted her to marry. Somewhere in his late thirties, Mr Stedman wasn’t much taller than Tess, and his pale complexion and portly figure spoke of a sedentary life. Fortunately, at the moment he seemed oblivious to everything but the young lady playing the harp. A most uninspired performance in Tess’s estimation, but perhaps she was not in the mood for music. She nibbled her bottom lip. Would Sandford keep his promise? And if so, how would he manage to speak to her without attracting attention?

The piece finally concluded to polite applause.

‘Brava!’ Stedman called out. Several people turned to stare, but he seemed oblivious to that, too. He half-turned in his seat. ‘A fine example of the young lady’s talent, Lady Theresa. When might I have the pleasure of hearing you play or sing?’

When the sun ceases rising above the horizon?

‘Theresa has a lovely voice,’ Wilhelmina hastened to say. ‘Perhaps when you have dinner with us next week she will oblige us.’

Tess gritted her teeth at their insistence on using her full name. Could she really stand listening to her name spoken in that precise way for the rest of her life? She might not have a choice if Grey couldn’t be found. And even he was located he might be unable or unwilling to assist... She forced the doubt aside. Grey would not let her down again. He must only have meant to borrow the bracelet, perhaps to pawn? Surely he would have intended to redeem it as soon as possible and return it to her?

‘Refreshments are served in the Egyptian drawing room,’ their hostess announced from the front of the room.

Mr Stedman offered his arm and, along with the rest of the guests, they shuffled along their respective row and were herded out of the gilt music-room doors. The invitation had spoken of a select gathering, but to Tess it looked as if every member of the ton were present. All except Sandford. Dratted man.

Mr Stedman hissed out a breath. ‘Lady Theresa. My arm. Your grip.’

She loosened her hold. ‘I beg your pardon.’

He patted her hand where it now rested lightly on his sleeve. ‘Do not fear, I shall protect you.’

He couldn’t protect a rabbit. A baby one. She smiled absently, scanning the faces around her, but given her lack of inches she could not see beyond those standing closest.

The drawing room proved to be a nightmare of overcrowded heavily carved furniture representing all manner of strange beasts, such as crocodiles and ibis. One had to be careful not to bark one’s shins on sharp claws or beaks while manoeuvring around the people crammed inside.

‘I must congratulate Lady Bloomfield on her daughter’s performance,’ Wilhelmina said. She swanned off in a rustle of royal-blue silk.

‘I shall get us some tea,’ Mr Stedman announced. ‘Wait right here.’

Was she to pretend to be a statue? Tess inched out of the centre of the room to stand beside a low table by a window.

Finally, she could breathe. And have a proper look about her.

‘Lady Tess.’

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Sandford’s voice so close to her ear and the light graze of his breath across the top of her shoulder.

‘Lord Sandford! You startled me.’

‘You were expecting me, were you not?’

‘Yes, but—’ She glanced up into his haughty expression. ‘Do you have to creep up on a person?’

Her heart sped up. Because he had startled her—nothing else. And if the recollection of his kiss had flashed into her mind, it was only to remind her to be extremely careful around this man.

He gave a soft laugh. ‘One would be hard pressed to sneak about in here.’

That low laugh made butterflies take wing in her lower abdomen. So annoying. She glanced towards the teacart. Mr Stedman was on his way back with two teacups in one hand and a plate of biscuits in the other.

‘Do you have news for me, my lord?’ She kept her voice low in case anyone was listening, but could not keep the urgency out of her tone.

His eyes were sympathetic. He had no reason for sympathy, unless... Her stomach dipped.

‘Excuse me.’ Mr Stedman thrust a teacup and saucer at Tess. ‘Lady Theresa, your tea. I put plenty of sugar in it.’

Of course he would. She usually only took cream, but he’d made her tea the way he liked his.

And how had he moved so quickly through the crowded room? She ground her teeth in frustration. ‘Mr Stedman, may I introduce you to Lord Sandford?’

Her swain visibly brightened. He set the plate down on a nearby table, and with an overly friendly expression reached out to shake Sandford’s hand, pumping as if it would cause nobility to spill forth and anoint him. ‘Please to meet you, my lord. Very pleased.’

Tess sipped at her tea, naughtily wondering how the stiff nobleman would handle such an effusive greeting.

Sandford raised an eyebrow. ‘Stedman.’ An awkward pause ensued.

Stedman swallowed down a sip of tea. ‘What about this business of Ireland, then, my lord? Damn lot of Catholics wanting the same rights as Protestants. Divisive, I call it. Taking positions that belong to good Christian men.’

‘Truly, sir?’ Sandford looked down his nose. ‘Personally, some of my best friends are of the Catholic persuasion and are all able men and certainly Christian.’ Sandford’s gaze shifted to her. ‘What is your opinion on the issue, Lady Tess?’

Tess tried to hide her surprise. He wanted her opinion? But the mocking curve to his lips gave him away. No doubt he wanted to make her say something she would regret.

Stedman’s face darkened. He put up a hand to forestall her answer. ‘Lady Theresa thinks as her cousin thinks, I should suppose.’

Rebellion rose inside her. ‘I think people should be judged by what they do rather than because of their religious leanings.’

Mr Stedman looked so affronted that she wished she had held her tongue. And then she didn’t. Now she really was getting to know him better, the idea of being married to this man was becoming more and more distasteful. ‘Lord Sandford?’ she enquired sweetly.

‘I agree wholeheartedly, Lady Tess.’

‘Theresa,’ Mr Stedman muttered. ‘Lady Theresa.’ He glared at Sandford.

Tess took a sip of tea to hide her smile of triumph, poor victory though it might have been.

A bored expression passed across Sandford’s face. He bowed. ‘If you will excuse me, my lady, I see an acquaintance.’ He wandered off and the next moment was deeply engrossed in conversation with Lord Canning, a known supporter of Catholic emancipation.

Tess swallowed a laugh at the look of fury on Mr Stedman’s face. Oh dear, she really was beginning to dislike him very much indeed. How very awkward.

‘You may smile, Lady Theresa,’ he said stiffly, ‘but one expects a man in his position to set an example, not go about inciting unrest. Next thing he’ll be supporting the idea that women should have a say in Parliament. I would have thought better of a friend of the King’s. And as for you supporting such reactionary views, well, I am shocked. Mother would be most dismayed.’

She opened her mouth to issue a set-down, then closed it again, with the greatest difficulty. One could hardly cause a scene, like refusing a proposal as yet to be made, in such a public place, but, oh, she hoped Sandford had good news. A feeling of dread in her stomach promised something else.

A servant near the door rang a bell.

‘Time to return to our seats,’ she said.

‘Yes, indeed. Come along, Lady Theresa. We don’t want to lose our places.’

She wanted to lose him with all her heart.

As they moved towards the music room, she glimpsed Sandford paying close attention to the words of a most elegant female. Tall and willowy and blonde, she was exactly the sort of woman men preferred. Her heart seemed to dip and that was ridiculous. She was disappointed that they hadn’t had a chance to talk, that was all.

The only reason to even notice Sandford existed, she told herself, was that she needed to find Grey.

The evils of her situation suddenly felt unbearable. With her father’s death her life had turned upside down and her expectations had changed dramatically. If only things could go back to the way they were before that day, life would once again be perfect.

A childish wish for things that could never be. She had to find her own solutions now.

She glanced at Stedman and repressed a little shudder.

* * *

While he listened to Lady Caroline with half an ear, Jaimie watched Lady Tess walk out of the drawing room on Stedman’s arm. Why on earth would a woman as lively and intelligent as she put up with such an idiot? The way the man put a hand in the small of her back as he ushered her out of the room exhibited a possessiveness Jaimie found distasteful in the extreme. Devil take it. Lady Tess was none of his business. And once he delivered his news, his obligation was at an end.




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