ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. Anne is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.lindasole.co.uk.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

Courted by the Captain

Back Cover Text

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

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Protected by the Major

Back Cover Text

Dedication

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

Afterword

Copyright

Courted by the Captain

Anne Herries

War hero seeks rich heiress

Captain Adam Miller needs to find a wealthy bride! With a title to pass on and an estate in ruins, he must marry well and produce an heir to turn the family fortunes around. Yet despite the endless parade of eligible heiresses thrust before him, none can compare to the exquisite but penniless Jenny Hastings.

The moment she sets eyes on the captain, Jenny is swept off her feet. But she has secrets that could change everything. When they come to light, will the captain still want her by his side?

Officers and Gentlemen

For duty, for honor, for love

Prologue

‘By God, we did it!’ The four cousins looked at each other in triumph. The news had just arrived that Napoleon was in retreat. After days of bitter fighting, when it had seemed that Wellington’s troops must suffer defeat, even a rout, their astute general had turned the tide. ‘We’ve suffered terrible losses, but we’ve done it.’

Each of the four men had been wounded. Mark Ravenscar, the eldest, had but a scratch on his cheek and some slight damage to his sword-hand. Since he was generally considered to be a lucky so-and-so, handsome, rich and favoured by the gods, that was, in the opinion of his friends, hardly to be wondered at. His younger brother Paul had wounds to his head, right arm and left thigh, but was still amongst the walking wounded. Hallam Ravenscar, their eldest cousin, also had a head wound and another to his left arm, and Adam Miller, their cousin through the female line, was severely wounded in his right shoulder. However, they had all been patched up by the surgeon and none of them were considered in danger of their lives. Indeed, their wounds had merely made them first in line for transport home to England.

‘Boney is done for,’ Hallam said. ‘Old Hookey won’t let him off so easily this time. He escaped from Elba to cause chaos once more, but he wasn’t the same man. Even so, he can’t be allowed to run riot again. They will have to make sure he’s confined securely.’

‘Well, we’ve survived and that’s what matters,’ Mark said and smiled at his cousins. ‘At last I can marry Lucy.’

‘You lucky dog.’ Adam grinned as he clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Lucy Dawlish is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. You have it all, my friend—a wonderful life waiting for you in England.’

Mark’s eyes reflected concern as he nodded. ‘Almost too perfect,’ he said. ‘You’ll come about, Adam. Your grandfather has the title of earl and a large estate...’

‘Most of which is mortgaged,’ Adam said gloomily. ‘The earl feels it to be my duty to marry an heiress. This little sortie was my escape from being thrust into a marriage I could not stomach.’

‘He can’t force you to marry to save his skin,’ Hallam said. ‘You have your father’s small estate—don’t let the earl bring pressure to bear.’

‘He says it’s my duty to the Benedict name.’ Adam sighed. ‘The trouble is, I know he’s right. I ought to do my duty by the family—but I’m not ready to marry just yet.’

‘Stick to your guns,’ Mark told him. ‘You were not the one who wasted the Benedict fortune. Your grandfather gambled recklessly. He should have known better at his age.’

‘He claims he was cheated,’ Adam said. ‘If he would give me the name of the rogue who fleeced him, I would call the devil out.’

‘That’s why the earl won’t tell you,’ Paul added. ‘He would rather have his only grandson alive than recover his losses. I dare say you’ll find a way to pull through. Besides, you may find an heiress you like.’ He smiled fondly at Adam. ‘We’ll all look round and find you one—a girl who is neither ugly nor stupid, but as rich as Croseus.’

‘An impossible task,’ Adam said, laughing. ‘I am lucky to have such good friends. I trust you will remain my friends if I’m reduced to marrying the daughter of a wealthy Cit?’

‘Through thick and thin,’ Hallam said. ‘We’ll all stand by each other. We came through this war by watching each other’s backs—we shall remain friends for life.’

‘Hear, hear,’ the others echoed.

‘If any one of us is in trouble, the others will back him up.’

‘In life and in death.’

Each of the men repeated the solemn promise they had made a few days previously when they’d been facing death together. Now they had only to face the future, and for four gentlemen of varying degrees of fortune, the future looked far brighter than it had only days ago.

‘In life and death...’

They clasped hands, one upon the other, and grinned at each other. Adam’s troubles were nothing that good fortune and a determined mind could not overcome.

Chapter One

Miss Jenny Hastings glanced round the crowded ballroom and knew she had to make an instant escape. If the marquis saw her he would find a way to corner her, and she was determined he should not catch her in his trap. If there was one man she truly could not bear, it was Fontleroy. The way his eyes followed her was enough to send cold shivers down her spine. His was a calculating gaze, as if he thought her vulnerable and at his mercy—which, since the death of her beloved father, she was in danger of becoming.

‘Oh, Papa,’ she murmured beneath her breath. ‘Why did you have to leave me alone so soon?’

She was not of course entirely alone, but her Aunt Martha and Uncle Rex were all but useless at protecting her. Her aunt believed anyone above the rank of lord must be conveying a favour on her niece by seeking her hand, and her uncle spent most of his life shut up in his library, unwilling to bother his head about his pretty niece.

In a hurry to quit the ballroom, Jenny almost bumped into one of the most beautiful girls she’d ever seen. She smiled and apologised, instantly recognising Miss Lucy Dawlish.

‘Forgive me,’ she said. ‘I wanted to avoid someone—did I tread on your foot?’

‘No, not at all,’ Lucy said and smiled. ‘Jenny—it is you. I thought I caught a glimpse of you earlier, but it is such a crush, isn’t it?’

‘Awful,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Which means the evening is a huge success. I came with my aunt and her friend Mrs Broxbourne. They have been talking all night and I was dancing quite happily until he turned up.’

Jenny moved her head to indicate the man watching them from the far side of the room. Lucy frowned and looked at her curiously.

‘I do not think I’ve met the gentleman. He is not unattractive.’

‘His soul is as black as pitch,’ Jenny said. ‘I can’t prove it, but I think he had something to do with Papa’s accident. He lost a considerable sum to the marquis that night...’

‘Oh, Jenny—are you in trouble?’

Jenny considered, then inclined her head, her cheeks a little warm. ‘Papa lost a great deal of money, Lucy—and my aunt seems to imagine I should be glad of the marquis’s interest. But I would rather die than be forced to marry such a man.’

‘Then you shall not,’ Lucy replied instantly. ‘Although only my close friends know it, my engagement is to be announced quite soon and we shall be going home to the country to prepare. Do say you will come and stay, Jenny. Mama was only saying yesterday that she did not know how she would part with me when I marry. I shall not be far away, but she would be delighted to have you as her companion. She has always thought you a sensible girl with beautiful manners and I know you would be doing her a kindness if you would make your home at Dawlish Court.’

‘How kind you are,’ Jenny said, looking doubtful. ‘Are you certain your mama would welcome a long-staying guest?’

‘She would love it of all things. I am her only daughter and neither of my brothers has yet obliged her by marrying. They spend all their time in London or Newmarket. Mama would adore to have you—if you can persuade your aunt to allow it.’

‘Oh, I think I might.’ Jenny breathed a sigh of relief as the marquis walked away, heading, she imagined, for the card room.

‘Then it’s all arranged. We shall take you up next week when we leave town. You must bring plenty of clothes for you will need them.’

‘Thank you.’ Jenny smiled at her. ‘I think that gentleman is coming to ask you to dance. I shall go and speak to my aunt at once.’

Leaving Lucy to dance with the extremely handsome man who had come to claim her, Jenny began to make her way through the crowded ballroom. It was difficult to reach the other side of the room, where the dowagers sat, and she was forced to wait until the press of people allowed her to move on.

‘Where is this paragon you promised me?’ A man’s voice charged with amusement claimed her attention. ‘An heiress, pretty if not beautiful, not stupid and available. Now did you or did you not promise me such a rare item?’

‘It is not as easy as that,’ a second young man answered in kind.

‘You are too particular, Adam. We have already shown you two perfectly suitable young ladies and neither was to your taste.’

‘One of them giggled at everything I said and the other one had bad breath,’ the first gentleman said. ‘God save me from simpering heiresses. I’ve had them paraded in front of me ever since I rose from my convalescence bed and I despair of ever finding one I should wish to marry.’

The second gentleman laughed. ‘If the young lady has a fortune, you immediately find some fault in her. I think the woman you would marry has yet to be born.’

Adam laughed and shook his head. ‘I dare say you are right. I am a sight too particular—but the whole notion of it fills me with disgust. Why should I marry simply for the sake of a fortune?’

Jenny glanced over her shoulder at the young men who were so deep in their amusing conversation that they were completely unaware she’d heard every word. The coxcomb! The young man who was so hard to please was indeed handsome, but not above ordinary height. His hair was dark, almost black, and his eyes bright blue. He must have a high opinion of himself if none of the young ladies here this evening could please him. Jenny knew of six young women present that evening who were considerable heiresses and each of them had something to recommend them.

Miss Maddingly was blonde and extremely pretty in a delicate way. Miss Rowbottom was as dark as her friend was fair with rather striking eyebrows. Miss Saunders was a redhead and much admired. Miss Headingly-Jones was another blonde, with large blue eyes; Miss Hatton was not as beautiful as the others, but still attractive, and Miss Pearce was unfortunately a little squint-eyed, but her twenty thousand pounds should make her acceptable to most. What did the particular young man want in his future wife? Was he above being pleased?

His eyes seemed to rest on her for a moment and then passed on. Jenny frowned and moved further into the crush.

* * *

It was several minutes before she reached her aunt, who looked up and smiled vaguely at her.

‘Fontleroy was looking for you earlier, my love. I think he meant to ask you to dance, but could not get near you for the crush.’

‘It is exceedingly warm in here this evening, Aunt,’ Jenny said. ‘I met Lucy Dawlish. They go home next week and I have been invited to stay for some weeks—until after her wedding.’

‘Indeed?’ Mrs Martha Hastings frowned for a moment. ‘I was not aware her engagement had been announced. Well, I dare say it will be good company for you, Jenny. Lady Dawlish entertains only the best people and you must be flattered to be asked. I dare say you may meet a suitable gentleman in her company—and the marquis may post down to visit you if he chooses.’

‘Lucy’s engagement is not yet announced, but her friends know she is to marry Mark Ravenscar. I’ve met him only once, but he seems pleasant.’

‘If you would but consider Fontleroy, you might be engaged yourself.’

Jenny sighed. She had tried on several occasions to make her aunt understand that she would never consider marriage to Fontleroy. Had she not a penny to her name she would prefer to work for her living as a governess or a companion. Being a paid companion could not be worse than living with Mrs Hastings.

‘I have a little headache, Aunt. Do you think we could leave soon?’

‘Well, it is very warm this evening,’ her aunt agreed. ‘Go and put on your pelisse, my love. We shall leave as soon as the carriage may be sent for.’

Jenny did not need to be told twice. She decided that it was easier to quit the room by keeping to the perimeter rather than trying to cross it. As she reached the door that led to the hall, which led up to the room provided for ladies to change, she caught sight of the gentlemen who had been discussing the heiresses earlier. One of them was dancing with a very pretty young woman, but the other—the particular gentleman—was standing frowning at the company as if nothing and no one pleased him. What a disagreeable young man he must be.

For a moment their eyes met across the room and his narrowed. Seeing a flicker of something in those relentless eyes, Jenny put her head in the air and turned her back. She had no wish to be the object of his interest even for a moment!

* * *

Adam’s eyes moved about the room, picking out the various young ladies who had been recommended to him. They were all very well in their way—to dance with any one of them would be a pleasure—but the very idea of having to court a young lady for her fortune made his stomach turn. It was quite unfair of the earl to expect it of him. That it was expected had become ever more plain since Adam’s return from the war.

‘So you managed to escape death or crippling injury this time, Adam,’ the earl had said in a voice of displeasure. ‘Do I need to remind you of what might have happened had you been killed? It is time you set up your nursery, my boy. Unless you give me heirs the title will pass into oblivion—and that prospect causes me pain. We have been earls since the time of the Conqueror. To lose the title or the estate would be equally painful to me. Do you mean to oblige me by marrying an heiress or not?’

‘I do not wish to disoblige you, Grandfather,’ Adam said, ‘yet I would crave your indulgence a little longer. I would at least marry a young woman I can admire if nothing more.’

‘Well, well,’ the earl said tolerantly. ‘There is time enough yet, but I do not have many years left to me. I should like to know the estate and the succession were safe.’

Adam had left his grandfather’s estate and journeyed to London. It was his first appearance in the drawing rooms of society for a while. He had been away for some years, like many young men now returned from the wars. Adam knew that several of his friends were seeking young women of fortune. His was not the only estate to be encumbered with mortgages and in danger of sinking into extinction.

Had he seen a young lady who caught his attention he would have done his best to court her, even though the whole idea filled him with repugnance. To be seeking a wife for her fortune was not what Adam would have wished for given his choice. Indeed, he had not yet made up his mind to it. He had been invited to stay at Ravenscar for Mark’s wedding and would do so, but before that he hoped to have some sport. There was an important meeting at Newmarket the following week and it was Adam’s intention to attend.

A wry smile touched his mouth. If he could but place a lucky bet and win the stake he needed to improve his grandfather’s fortunes, it would save the need for a distasteful decision. He was about to leave the ballroom when he saw a young woman regarding him from the far end of the room. Her expression was one of extreme disapproval. For a moment he wondered what he could have done to upset her—to his certain knowledge he had never met the young lady.

He had time to notice that she had particularly fine eyes and a soft mouth before she turned away and left the room. She was not one of the notable heiresses pointed out to him that evening by his obliging friends. By the plain look of her attire and her lack of ostentatious jewellery, he doubted that she was one of those rare females. However, her reddish-brown hair and delicate complexion was out of the ordinary. She certainly had the beauty he’d jokingly demanded that his heiress ought to have and there had been intelligence in those eyes—but she probably did not have a fortune.

So much the better, if Adam had his way, but he had promised his grandfather that he would at least attempt to attach an heiress. Glancing at the least displeasing of the young ladies he knew to be on the catch for a title, Adam breathed deeply and began to swathe a path through the crush of people.

The least he could do was to ask Miss Maddingly to dance...

* * *

‘You cannot leave before Lady Braxton’s dance,’ Mrs Hastings said firmly. ‘Your friends can certainly spare you a few days longer. You will oblige me in this, Jenny. Your uncle will send you down to Dawlish in his own carriage at the end of the week.’

‘But, Aunt, if I leave tomorrow I may travel with Lucy and save my uncle the expense.’

‘You speak as if your uncle would grudge the expense,’ her aunt said and shook her head. ‘I know you cannot be so very ungrateful as to refuse me this request, Jenny. Neither your uncle or I have asked anything of you before this—and I really think you must attend the dance, for my word was given.’

Jenny gave up the argument. She knew Aunt Martha would end in a fit of vexation if she refused to accept her wish upon the matter. Much as she would have liked to travel with her friend, she could not insist on it—though her uncle’s lumbering travelling coach was not at all comfortable. It would have been far better to travel post, but the cost was exorbitant and her uncle would never approve when he had what he considered a perfectly good coach.

Mr Keith Hastings’s own coach had been sold along with many of his personal possessions. Jenny had tried to protest that such stringent economy was unnecessary. Papa might have lost money, but there was surely still more than sufficient for Jenny’s needs? However, Uncle Rex liked to practise economy and could not be brought to accept that there was no need to pinch pennies. It was a matter over which Jenny’s father had always been at odds with his brother.

‘Your uncle is a good man, Jenny love,’ he’d once told her. ‘But he is a regular nip-farthing and will not spend a penny if a ha’penny will do.’

Jenny had laughed. Papa had perhaps been a little over-generous with his money and that might be why her uncle was determined to make economies. She was not perfectly certain of how Papa had left things, for she’d been content to leave business to her uncle—though it was perhaps time that she had a word with Mr Nodgrass. Papa’s lawyer could tell her where she stood financially and what had happened to Mama’s jewels. Had they been sold to pay debts? Her uncle had mumbled on about something of the kind, leaving Jenny with the idea that she had very little to call her own—which made her all the more indebted to her uncle for taking her in.

However, she had only a string of seed pearls of her own and if any of Mama’s jewels remained she was determined to lay claim to them. Jenny was almost nineteen and Papa had been dead for a year. It was certainly time that she discovered exactly where she stood.

Her mind made up, she decided to call at her lawyer’s office the very next day.

* * *

‘Come in, come in, Miss Hastings,’ Mr Nodgrass greeted her kindly, but with some surprise the next morning. ‘There was no need to put yourself to so much trouble, for had you asked I should have been pleased to call on you at your uncle’s house.’

‘I hoped to see you alone, sir,’ Jenny said as she was ushered into his private office. ‘My uncle was unclear about the state of Papa’s affairs. I wished to know if any of Mama’s jewels were still available to me?’

His thick eyebrows climbed. ‘Certainly Mrs Hastings’s jewellery is available. It sits in my vault awaiting your instructions, Miss Jenny—if I may call you that?’

‘Yes, sir, of course. I had no idea the jewellery was here. Why have I not been informed?’

‘Your aunt considered that you were too young to wear any of the more expensive pieces and your uncle thought them safer in my vault. However, I know there are several small pieces suitable for a young lady and I wondered why you did not avail yourself of them.’

‘I should certainly like to do so. I am going to stay with friends soon and would like something pretty to wear at a wedding. If I might see what there is, sir?’

‘Of course.’ Mr Nodgrass pulled a bell-rope and gave the instructions to an underling. ‘You may take everything with you—or as much as you consider suitable to your present way of life.’

‘Thank you, sir. Perhaps while I am here you would acquaint me with my circumstances. I know that Papa lost a considerable sum of money at the tables just before he died in that driving accident—but do I have any money of my own?’

* * *

Jenny was thoughtful as she left the lawyer’s office an hour later. In her reticule there were six items of pretty but not particularly valuable jewellery—things that her aunt might easily have secured for her use before this had she been bothered. Distressed by her beloved father’s death, Jenny had not thought about the jewels or her situation for some time. Mr Nodgrass had not been able to give her full details, for the accounts had been placed in a safe and the clerk had mislaid the keys. However, he had told her that her situation was far from desperate, and he could make her a small quarterly allowance if she wished for it, though much of her inheritance was invested either in property or shares.

‘I cannot tell you the exact amount of your inheritance until I find those accounts,’ he told her regretfully. ‘However, I think you need not worry too much, my dear. I will send a copy to you once they have been transcribed and you may peruse them at your will and let me know if you wish to make changes to your portfolio.’

Mr Nodgrass was as honest and well meaning as any man she’d met—it was the behaviour of her uncle and aunt that shocked her. Why had they not considered it necessary to tell Jenny her true position in life—and why were they trying to push her into marriage with a man she disliked?

Lost in her thoughts, Jenny was not aware that the object of her thoughts was making his way towards her until he waylaid her path.

‘What a pleasant surprise, Miss Hastings,’ the marquis said. ‘I was hoping we might meet tomorrow evening, but this is both unexpected and delightful.’

‘I beg you will excuse me, sir,’ Jenny said and looked at her maid. ‘Come along, Meg. We must be getting home.’

‘Allow me to take you both up in my carriage...’

‘I thank you, no, sir,’ Jenny said. ‘I see some friends I have arranged to meet—excuse me. I must join them...’

Ignoring his look of displeasure, she walked past and hurried up to Mrs Broxbourne, whom she’d just noticed emerging from a milliner’s shop further up the road.

‘Jenny, my love,’ the woman said. ‘Have you been shopping?’

‘I had a little business, but it is done. Do you go home now, ma’am? Could I prevail on you to take me up as far as my uncle’s house?’

‘Certainly, my love.’ The lady’s gaze travelled as far as the marquis and her brow crinkled. ‘Yes, I see. I have told Martha I do not approve of that creature. I have no idea why she imagines the match would be a good one for you, Jenny.’

‘It will never happen, ma’am. I dislike that gentleman excessively.’

‘Well, I suppose your aunt hopes for a good marriage for you—and there is a title and some fortune.’

‘But no liking on my part. I am very grateful to you for taking me up in your carriage, ma’am. I should otherwise have had to summon a cab.’

‘Your uncle should make his chaise available to you in town. You may always call on me should you wish. I should be happy to make mine available when it is not in use.’

‘I thank you for your good offices,’ Jenny said and smiled inwardly. ‘However, it will not be necessary since I am to leave town very shortly and I do not intend to return for some months. Lady Dawlish has asked me to live with them for a time and I shall certainly take advantage of her kindness.’

‘Lady Dawlish is everything she ought to be,’ Mrs Broxbourne said. ‘I shall be glad to think of you with kind friends, Jenny. I am not completely sure how you are situated, but if you should ever need a friend you may apply to me.’

‘How good of you, ma’am,’ Jenny said. ‘Should I be in need I shall not forget your offer—but I believe I am perfectly situated for the moment.’

She was smiling as she slid into the comfortable carriage, hugging her secret to herself. She had no intention of challenging her uncle or aunt or of demanding an explanation of their conduct. It was enough to know that she was independent of their charity and could make her own way in the world. For although she had no idea how much had been left to her, she did know that she had some money and could probably afford to set up her own modest establishment if she chose.

Jenny wished that her uncle had not thought it wise to sell her old home without consulting her. She had accepted his decision, believing she had no choice, but this might not have been the case at all, she now realised.

She would not know the extent of her inheritance until the copy of Mr Nodgrass’s accounts reached her, and by then she would be staying in the country with Lucy Dawlish.

Chapter Two

‘Have you noticed that when Lady Luck decides to desert one she does so with a vengeance?’ Adam asked and twirled his wine glass so that the rich ruby liquid swirled enticingly in the delicate bowl. ‘That damned horse might have won for me. Had it done so I should have been beforehand with the world for a month. As it is I must go into the country.’

‘My own pockets are sadly to let or I should offer to frank you.’ Captain John Marshall joined him in the sad perusal of their joint fate, having both put down too much of their blunt on a sure thing. ‘No, no, don’t poker up, Adam. Only meant pay our shot at the inn. You’d do the same for me.’

‘I can manage that,’ Adam replied ruefully. ‘Kept enough back for it, but I’d thought to return to London for a few weeks. However, my allowance for the month is shot and I refuse to borrow—so the country it must be.’

‘I shall avail myself of my uncle’s hospitality,’ John said. ‘He has been asking me to stay this age. Bores one to death with his stories, but he’s got a good heart. He’ll leave me a fortune one day, I dare say.’

‘Had I such a relative I should be delighted to stay with him.’ Adam laughed. ‘The cure for my dilemma is in my own hands, but I can’t seem to make up my mind to it.’

‘Know where you’re coming from.’ His friend tapped the side of his nose. ‘Heiresses are the very devil. If they’re ugly, it makes one want to run a mile—and if they’re beautiful, they look through one as if there was a bad smell under their pretty noses.’

Adam was forced into laughter. He sipped his wine, feeling the cloud of gloom lift slightly. The future looked exceedingly dark, but at the moment he was still free to enjoy his life as he would.

‘I’ve been invited to Mark Ravenscar’s wedding. I think I shall go down and stay. I’ve decided I shall give him one of my breeding mares as a gift. He has been after buying her for an age and I could hardly think of anything better—though I must give Lucy something for herself. A piece of my late mother’s jewellery, perhaps.’

‘Ladies can never have too many trinkets.’ John nodded wisely. ‘I plan to send them a silver tea-and-coffee service myself—we have about twenty of them at home.’

‘It’s what all the uncles and aunts give,’ Adam smiled in amusement. ‘Which is why I settled on the mare.’ He finished his wine and stood up. ‘Think I’ll go up. If I don’t see you in the morning, you’ll be at Mark’s wedding?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world. There wasn’t one of us in the regiment that didn’t envy him Lucy Dawlish—a regular golden goddess fit for one beloved of the gods.’

‘Yes, Mark always has been a lucky devil,’ Adam replied with an odd smile. ‘Good night, old fellow.’

Leaving his friend to finish the bottle, Adam exited the private parlour and walked upstairs to his room. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, still fully clothed. Dashed tired and dispirited, but he’d enjoyed meeting an old comrade. Now that his wounds had healed, Adam was considering whether he might do better to return to an army life. He would be an officer on half-pay during peace time, however, which meant he would find it difficult to manage. Perhaps it would be better to try to set his own small estate in order. He was unlikely to inherit anything but an ancient pile of stones and huge debts from his grandfather—debts that he could never pay unless he married a considerable heiress.

Back to the same old problem, he closed his eyes and was soon snoring gently as his mind drifted away and in his dreams he saw a woman’s look of disdain.

* * *

‘Well, Jenny, I’m sure I do not know why you wish to leave us,’ Mrs Hastings said as her niece came down dressed in a smart but plain green travelling gown. She sniffed her disapproval. ‘I think we’ve done our best to make you comfortable.’

‘Yes, Aunt Martha. You’ve both been kind—but I wished for a change. I am not certain what I would like to do with my life, but I intend to make up my own mind.’

‘I still cannot see why you dislike the marquis so much. You would have a prestigious title and he would settle money on you...’

‘I think I can manage for myself on what I have, Aunt. Papa may have lost some money, but I am not a pauper. I am not reduced to earning my living as a governess.’

‘No one would employ a girl as pretty as you for their governess.’ Mrs Hastings sniffed again. ‘Your uncle was only trying to protect you from the wrong kind of suitor.’

Jenny smiled and shook her head. ‘I must not keep the coachman waiting,’ she said. Although it would have been perfectly possible for her to travel by post-chaise, she had been unable to get out of using her uncle’s antiquated carriage. He was annoyed with her for visiting the lawyer without reference to him and Jenny had had to endure a homily from him on the ingratitude of younger folk today.

‘I did what I thought right in the circumstances, Jenny. Your father left me the task of guarding you and your funds until you are either one and twenty—or married. You had no need of a larger allowance whilst you lived under our roof.’

‘You are one of the trustees,’ Jenny gently reminded him. ‘Mr Nodgrass is the other and he saw fit to give me the monthly sum I requested.’

‘Yes, well, since you are removing yourself from my house I suppose you will need more. But you should learn economy, Jenny. Even had you a huge fortune, which to my mind, you have not, you may easily run through it if you spend too freely.’

Jenny had not answered. From what Mr Nodgrass had told her she had funds enough for her needs and she saw no point in the stringent economy her uncle thought right. However, her aunt and uncle had been kind enough in their way and she had no wish to quarrel with them.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she climbed into the carriage and the groom put up the steps. Her maid Megan was already sitting quietly in one corner, waiting for her. She smiled at her, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted. Her uncle and aunt were good people in their way, but they had made her feel beholden to them for all these months and there was no need for it, no need at all. Jenny could have remained in her father’s house had her uncle not sold the property together with so many other things that Jenny would have preferred to keep. Thankfully, Mr Nodgrass had refused to give up her mother’s jewels, keeping them safe for her in his strongroom.

Jenny had decided to leave the more valuable diamonds and rubies with him, because in that much her aunt was right. Such ostentation would not become a girl of her age and should be kept for marriage or some years in the future. Papa had bought the finest he could for his beloved wife, but Jenny loved best the trinkets she’d chosen for her own use, which had also been her mother’s favourites and worn more often than either the diamonds or the rubies.

‘Are you looking forward to your visit, miss?’

Jenny glanced at her maid and a little gurgle of laughter broke from her. ‘So much! It should be the greatest good fun—lots of dances, dinners and picnics. We have the summer before us and with the wedding next month everything will be so exciting. You’ll enjoy yourself in the country, Meg. You can make friends and go out for walks when I don’t need you.’

‘I was a country girl until your papa employed me to look after you,’ Meg replied. ‘We make our own fun in the country. I always loved the haymaking as a girl—and gathering in the May blossom.’

‘Tell me about your childhood,’ Jenny said. ‘We’ve never talked like this before and I should so much like to know all about your family and what you did as a young girl...’

* * *

His thumping head had almost cleared now. The fresh air was doing him a power of good and he was glad he’d decided to drive himself down in his phaeton. Alas, his favourite high-perch phaeton with the bright yellow wheels and the matched blacks he’d prized so much had had to be sold to pay his immediate debts. He now had more than five hundred guineas in his account, which meant he could stop worrying—at least for the time being.

Adam’s goal of having one of the best breeding stables in the country might have suffered a little from the loss of his blacks, but he still had the greys and the chestnuts, both teams excellent horseflesh. He’d always been a good judge of horses and gentlemen wishing to improve their stables often sought his advice. Had he wished he could have begun to put his land in order by selling more of his stable, but then his dream would vanish into thin air. However, the perch phaeton was a luxury and the more mundane vehicle he was driving now served him just as well.

It would be good to see his cousins again. Since they were forever pressing him to stay he would not feel that he was in any way impinging on their hospitality. Mark had spoken of wishing to buy some good bloodstock in order to set up his stables and, with the addition of the mare Adam had decided to give him as a wedding gift, it could easily be done. They might ride out to a few sales in the neighbourhood and discover whether there was anything worth purchasing.

Seeing the carriage blocking the road ahead, Adam brought his horses to a gentle halt and threw the reins to his tiger as he got down to investigate. It was obvious that the coach was old and something had broken—the leading pole by the looks of things. It had lurched sideways, only prevented from overturning by some skilled handling of the horses by the coachman. As Adam went to investigate, he saw two young women sitting on a blanket at the side of the road. One was obviously a maid, the other was a young lady of gentle birth dressed plainly in an elegant, but serviceable rather than fashionable, gown.

‘I am sorry to find you in trouble, ladies,’ he said and swept off his hat. ‘Is there anything I may do to help you?’

‘My uncle’s groom has gone to fetch a blacksmith,’ the young lady in green said. ‘I think it will need several men to get this wretched coach off the road—and I am informed that the nearest inn is more than a mile away.’

‘Yes, I believe there is an inn of sorts—but not at all suitable for ladies.’ Adam hesitated, then, ‘Where are you headed?’

‘The Dawlish estate. I am going to stay with Lucy and her family.’

‘Yes, I know the Dawlish family,’ Adam said. ‘I am going down to stay with Lucy’s bridegroom’s family—my cousins. The estates are not far apart. I could take you both up in my phaeton. However, your coachman must make arrangements to send on your baggage for I cannot accommodate it.’

‘Most of my things were sent ahead by wagon,’ Jenny said. ‘Coachman shall do as you suggest—if I may bring my box with me?’

Adam saw the small trunk lying on the grass beside them and guessed it held her personal items and valuables.

‘Yes, of course. Your companion may hold it on her lap.’ He approached and offered his hand, ‘Allow me, Miss...’

‘Hastings—Jenny Hastings.’ Adam noticed the faint blush in her cheeks and the way her hand trembled in his, as he helped her to rise. It was only as he was handing her into his phaeton that he realised she was the lady he’d noticed at the last ball he’d attended in London. She’d looked at him with decided disapproval that night, though as far as he knew they’d never met before today. ‘I knew Lucy at school. My father is dead and they have kindly offered me a home.’

Her slight embarrassment and the plainness of her gown and pelisse made Adam think that she was reduced to accepting kindness from her friends. It would seem that her father’s demise had left her in difficult circumstances and she was to be some kind of a companion, though treated as a friend rather than a paid servant. It was a situation that many young ladies of good birth found themselves in when a death in the family left them with too little fortune to manage for themselves.

She was wearing a pretty silver-and-enamelled brooch pinned to her pelisse. Of little value, it was exactly the kind of ornament a girl in her position would prize. He wondered that she had told him so much of her situation for she need not, and yet perhaps she felt her come down keenly and did not wish him to think her a privileged guest. He smiled at her kindly, because now he understood the expression she’d worn that evening in London. She had not been disapproving of him in particular, but was at odds with the world itself for leaving her in her present circumstances.

Adam could sympathise, for his own circumstances were not too far different. Miss Hastings would not have the avenue of marriage to a rich heiress open to her. Being a man, and heir to a title, he had a distinct advantage, as his problems might have been solved had he a little less pride. For a young woman like this there were few options open to her other than to seek paid employment or live as a dependent in the home of a friend—unless she was fortunate enough to be asked for in marriage. If she were prepared to accept an older man or a widower with a family, she might be fortunate enough to find a comfortable match—although was there any comfort to be had in a loveless marriage?

Having settled Miss Hastings in the carriage, he helped the young maid to sit behind and took up the reins from his tiger. By driving with great care, he managed to pass the stricken coach and mount the grass verge, negotiating a tricky passage with ease.

‘You drive very well,’ Miss Hastings observed and Adam smiled. He was considered a notable whip, but had no intention of puffing off his consequence. ‘Papa was a whip—indeed, I shall never understand how he came to overset his chaise at such speed that he was thrown to the ground and killed.’

‘Accidents will happen even to the best of us,’ Adam said in a sympathetic tone. ‘I am sorry for your loss, Miss Hastings.’

‘It was almost a year ago now, which is why I’ve left off my blacks. My aunt was anxious for me to wear colours again—but I shall continue to wear grey and lilac for a little longer.’

‘Your gown today is a very pretty green, however.’

‘A present from my aunt. I felt obliged to wear it since she had gone to so much trouble to have it made up for me.’

‘Ah, I see...’ Adam concentrated on his driving. ‘It will be late afternoon by the time we arrive at Ravenscar. If we dine there, I can send word to Lady Dawlish. She may have you fetched—or I can drive you there after we’ve eaten. To arrive after dark without explanation might cause some adverse comment...’

‘You think Lady Dawlish might consider it improper in me to allow you to take us up?’

‘I would not wish to have anyone form the wrong conclusion.’

‘But surely...I have my maid...’

‘Yes, but I...well, I have been known to support a pretty...mistress in the past and I would not wish anyone to receive the wrong impression.’

‘Oh...’ A sideways glance told him that her cheeks flamed. ‘I had not thought...only how kind it was...’ She floundered and Adam took pity on her.

‘You are quite safe with me. I do not seduce innocent young ladies, even if I have the reputation of being a rake—which is not truly deserved, though I say it myself.’

‘You are very thoughtful for my sake.’

‘A young woman in your delicate position cannot be too careful.’

‘In my...’ She swallowed hard, a startled look in her eyes. She could not have realised how revealing her words had been and he was sorry to have embarrassed her. ‘Yes, I see. You fear that it might cause Lady Dawlish to rescind her kind offer?’

‘Great ladies can sometimes be a little severe in matters of propriety,’ Adam said. ‘Safer to reach my cousin’s house and then send word that we took you in when your coach met with an accident.’

‘Yes...thank you. You are very considerate.’ Adam risked another glance at her. Her cheeks were rather pink and she seemed in some sort of difficulty. He was not sure whether her foremost emotion was embarrassment or...was that a gasp of despair or could it possibly be laughter?

‘You may think me impertinent, perhaps? Yet I should not wish you to lose your home because of a misunderstanding.’

‘No, certainly not, that would be unfortunate.’ She had herself in hand now and smiled at him. ‘I assure you I do not find you in the least impertinent, sir. Indeed, I am grateful for your care of my reputation.’

Adam made no immediate reply. She was obviously much affected by her change in situation. He could only suppose that she had been brought up to expect the best from life and her new circumstances were distressing her.

‘I should never wish to be the cause of harm to a young lady, especially when you find yourself in difficulties,’ he assured her and heard a little gasp from the maidservant. ‘Now tell me, are you looking forward to Lucy’s wedding?’

‘Yes, very much indeed,’ the reply came easily now. ‘The summer holds many treats ahead, I think, for Lady Dawlish is a generous hostess and will not permit herself to show me any lessening of regard because of my reduced circumstances.’

She had brought herself to speak of it and Adam was respectfully silent. He knew how much it must have cost her to speak of such things and was determined to be as generous and kind as he could.

* * *

For the next half an hour he regaled her with stories of his and his cousins’ exploits on the field of battle, describing the fierce fighting and their feelings of despair when at first forced to retreat. Also, the true comradeship and care for one another their experiences had forged.

‘When Old Hookey gave the orders to advance I was never more delighted in my life. What might have been a rout ended in a brilliant victory—and it was due to his strategy and the bravery of men who would cheerfully have died for him.’

‘I fear too many died,’ Jenny said. ‘I recall my uncle speaking of it—but he did not say much for he knew any talk of such things would distress me.’

‘Yes, indeed, it is not the subject for a lady’s parlour,’ Adam admitted. ‘I believe Wellington is now in Vienna. I fear he will find making the peace more difficult than he found the campaign. It is always so, for politics is a dirty business and men who would not know how to command a fly have a deal too much to say about how things shall be settled.’

‘My uncle was of the opinion that Napoleon should be tried and executed, but I dare say that will not happen.’

‘I think too many voices would be raised against it. He must certainly be contained for we cannot allow him to wreak further havoc in Europe—but he is a fine general and an execution might be a hard way to end such a life.’

‘You sound as though you almost admire him?’

‘Yes, in a way, I suppose I do. He was a worthy opponent. At one time the most brilliant general that ever lived, barring Wellington himself—though at the end he made mistakes he would not have made when he was younger. Like many others before him he grew too big for his boots. Power went to his head. Had he known when to stop, he might still have been emperor.’

‘Yes, perhaps. I had heard some speak of him in romantic terms, but thought them foolish girls—but if you admire him, the case is proven.’

Adam chuckled for such forthright speech was not often met with in a young lady and he found her views refreshing. Glancing at her sideways, he wondered what other pearls of wisdom might drop from those sweet lips given the chance.

Jenny glanced round at her maid. ‘Are you comfortable, Meg?’

‘Oh, yes, miss. Much more comfortable now.’

‘My uncle’s coach rattled us almost to death,’ she said and laughed. ‘Casting a wheel was better fortune than we knew.’

The sound of her laughter warmed Adam. He was suddenly aware of her sitting close to him, her femininity, and her subtle perfume that he thought was her own rather than from a bottle. She was quite lovely—though no cold beauty. He thought of some of the proud London ladies he’d seen dressed in their rich gowns. In her simple travelling gown this young woman cast them all into shade. He felt something stir in his loins—a feeling he did not often associate with innocent young ladies.

Adam’s taste was normally for older women, opera singers or dancers, or the occasional widow who needed a friend’s support to keep the wolf from the door after the death of her loved one. Over the years he’d taken his lovers lightly: a Spanish tavern wench, a French actress, several English ladies who had been married, some more than once. To feel the heat of desire curl through him because of a proper young lady sitting beside him was a new experience. Though it made him smile inwardly, he ruthlessly crushed all thought of what her lips might taste of or how the softness of her skin might feel pressed against his.

Miss Jenny Hastings was out of bounds. She had no fortune and neither did he so marriage was not a viable proposition had either of them had the inclination, which it was much too soon even to consider—and anything else was out of the question, even if this feeling happened to be more than fleeting lust. He could offer her friendship and he would—but his honour forbade him to take advantage of her vulnerability. No, he must conquer the sudden and ridiculous desire to stop the carriage and catch her up in his arms. It was quite ridiculous. They were complete strangers and knew nothing of one another. He really did not know what had got into him! And yet when he’d caught her eye in that London ballroom he’d felt drawn to her somehow.

* * *

‘Are we very far now?’ she asked after he had lapsed into silence for some twenty minutes or more.

‘Are you hungry or tired?’ he asked and glanced at his watch. ‘I suppose we might have stopped, but I thought it unwise to eat at an inn. We should be at Ravenscar Court in a few minutes.’

‘Oh, good,’ Jenny said. ‘My aunt’s cook put up a hamper for us, but in the distress of the accident it went rolling into the ditch and was lost.’

‘And you are hungry.’ He heard a sound that could only be her stomach growling and became aware of his own hunger—not the sexual hunger he’d felt earlier, but a natural desire for food. ‘I promise you it will not be long. My cousins will provide us with refreshments as soon as we arrive.’’

* * *

Adam pulled his chaise to a halt at the front of a large, imposing country residence some fifteen minutes later. His tiger jumped down and went to hold the horses’ heads, while he helped first Miss Hastings and then her maid to alight.

‘Well, here we are,’ he said. ‘I am expected so someone should be here at any—’

The sound of shots being fired startled him. He looked about him in search of their source, thinking that they must have come from somewhere at the rear. It was even as he was deciding what to do for the best that a man came from the front porch and stumbled towards him. Adam saw the blood and gave a cry of distress and shock, rushing towards his cousin. He was in time to catch Mark before he collapsed. Holding him in his arms, he knelt on the gravel, looking down at the face of the man he had always believed the most favoured of the gods and practically invincible.

‘Mark, dear fellow,’ he said, for he saw that the wound was fatal and his cousin had but a short time to live. ‘What happened—who did this to you?’

‘Father...Paul...tell Father to watch out for him...’

The words were so faint that Adam scarcely heard them. His head was in a whirl, his mind suspended in disbelief. How could this be happening? Mark had sailed through all the campaigns on the Peninsula and in France. How could he be lying in Adam’s arms dying of a shotgun wound now when he was at his own home in peaceful Huntingdonshire?

‘What is happening?’ Paul’s voice cried. He came running from the side of the house, a shotgun broken for safety and lying over his arm. As he approached, he dropped the gun and flung himself down by his brother’s side. ‘No—oh God, no,’ he cried and tears started to his eyes. ‘Did you see what happened? Who could have done this? I heard shots almost at the same moment as I shot a rat in the walled garden. Did anyone come this way?’

‘No one but Mark,’ Adam said. He stood up as servants started to converge on them from all sides. ‘Some of you make a thorough search of the grounds. One of you must go for the doctor. I think it is hopeless, but the attempt must be made. If you see a stranger or intruder, apprehend them—I want justice for my cousin.’

Pandemonium broke loose. Men were shouting at each other, feet flying as they divided into groups to search for the murderer. Adam lifted Mark off the ground, carrying him into the house. Then, remembering his passengers, he turned to look at them. Both young women looked stunned.

‘As you see, my cousin has been shot,’ Adam said. ‘Forgive me. I had not expected to bring you to such a reception.’

‘You must not think of us,’ Jenny said and dabbed at her cheeks with a lace kerchief.

‘Mrs Mountfitchet,’ Adam addressed a woman dressed all in black, who hovered nearby. ‘These young ladies were in distress for their carriage has broken down—send word to Lady Dawlish, for they are meant to be her guests, and please feed them. They are hungry.’

‘Do not worry for them, sir,’ the housekeeper said. ‘Come along, my dears. I’ll find you a comfortable parlour to sit in and you shall have some bread and butter, cold meats and pickles—and a pot of tea.’

‘Thank you...so kind...’ Jenny said, then, in a louder voice. ‘Please, I would know how your cousin goes on, sir.’

Adam made no answer for he was hurrying away and up the stairs, the younger man hard on his heels.

‘I can’t believe it,’ the housekeeper said. ‘That such a thing should happen to the young master here in his own home. It’s scandalous, that’s what it is, and no mistake.’

‘It was such a shock,’ Jenny said and dabbed at her eyes again. ‘I am so very sorry. I wish we were not here to cause you more trouble.’

‘Now don’t you be worrying about that, miss. It has given me a proper shock, but as for looking after you, well, I’d rather have something to do. His lordship’s man will do all that is needed upstairs. Are you related to Miss Dawlish, miss—the poor young lady? What she’ll do now I dread to think.’

‘It is terrible for both families. Everyone was so happy, looking forward to the wedding...’ Jenny’s throat caught. She had come down for Lucy’s wedding and now her husband-to-be was dying. ‘I cannot believe such a wicked thing could happen here.’

‘There’s a good many wicked things go on,’ the housekeeper said in dire tones. ‘But not at Ravenscar. What his lordship will say to it all I do not know...’

Chapter Three

‘How can it have happened?’ Lord Ravenscar asked, staring at Adam in disbelief. ‘You say that you heard shots just as you arrived?’

‘We had just got down from the phaeton,’ Adam confirmed. ‘I had brought a young lady I found in distress, her coach having broken down, and was about to take her into the house when it happened. The shots seemed to come from the back of the building’

‘And my son?’

‘Mark is dying, sir,’ Adam replied. There was no way of softening the blow. ‘He was conscious only for a moment or two after he fell into my arms. I carried him to his room and the doctor was summoned, but he thinks as I do that it is only a matter of time. The wound is fatal. I have seen such wounds before and Mark cannot survive more than an hour or so.’

‘My God!’ The elderly man covered his face with shaking hands. ‘It beggars belief that he should come through so many battles with hardly a scratch only to die of gunshot wounds here in his own home.’

‘Whoever shot him did so at close range. He would have had little chance to defend himself,’ Adam said grimly. ‘I am sorry, sir. I wish I could give you better news, but there is no point in giving you false hope.’

‘Has the assassin been apprehended?’

‘Not to my knowledge. I have scarcely left Mark’s side until now. I hoped we might do something to save him, but all the doctor was able to do was to give him something that would ease his pain should he come to himself.’

‘If only I had been here when it happened...’

‘How could it have altered things?’ Adam looked at him with compassion. ‘Paul and I were here and there was nothing either of us could do.’

‘Has Hallam been sent for? Those two have always been close—as you know, Adam.’

‘Yes, sir. All of us loved Mark. He was like a golden god to the men he commanded. They would have followed him anywhere and he was universally loved by his fellow officers.’

‘Someone did not love him,’ Mark’s father said, his features harsh with grief. ‘I would have sworn he did not have an enemy in the world—but this was murder. Someone must have done this wicked thing deliberately—come here on purpose to kill Mark. Have you any idea of who might have done it?’

Adam shook his head. He could not forget his cousin’s last words, but how could he raise doubts in the grieving father’s mind? Mark might have been accusing his brother or he might have been warning them to watch out that the same fate did not happen to Paul. The fact that Paul had appeared carrying a shotgun that had been fired at about the time of the fatal shooting was damning—and yet it might be coincidental. Adam would not cast the first stone until he’d had time to investigate—even if it were the truth he would find it difficult to believe.

‘I believe I shall sit with my son now,’ Lord Ravenscar said, his face showing the extent of his shock and grief. ‘If you will excuse me...’

‘Of course.’ Adam watched him walk up the stairs and then turned towards the sound of voices coming from the large front parlour. There was the sound of crying and a babble of voices. If he were not mistaken, Lucy Dawlish had arrived.

He hesitated outside the parlour and then walked in on a touching scene. Lucy was in floods of tears at the news, as one would expect. Miss Jenny Hastings had her arms about her and was attempting to comfort her—and both Paul and Hallam were watching with varying degrees of distress and horror.

‘Oh, Adam,’ Lucy cried as he entered the parlour. ‘Tell me it isn’t true, I beg you. Please tell me Mark will recover and this is all a bad dream.’

‘I wish that I might do so,’ Adam said. Lucy’s grief was a piteous thing. He noticed that she threw a look almost of accusation at Paul, almost as if she blamed him for being hale when his brother lay dying. ‘However, the doctor told me that it is a matter of hours. He does not expect that Mark will recover consciousness.’

‘It cannot be.’ Lucy fell into a renewed fit of wild sobbing. ‘We were to be married...how can this have happened here? He promised he would come home safe from the war and we should marry. Now...’ She shook her head and broke from Jenny’s protective arms. ‘May I see him? I must say goodbye to him...’ She looked so fragile, so close to breaking that Adam was wrenched with pity for her.

‘His father asked for a little time alone with his son—but I am sure he will send for you as soon as he has made his own farewells.’

‘Adam...’ Hallam drew him to one side away from the others. ‘This is a bad business. Has the culprit been found?’

‘No, I have not been told of anything. We set men to searching immediately, but I am sure the rogue would have fled as soon as he’d worked his wicked plan.’

‘Does anyone have any idea who might have done this?’

‘My uncle asked me the same question. I have no answers and to my knowledge Paul has no more idea than I. I would have sworn that Mark did not have an enemy in the world. You know how much his men adored him. Even in society he was admired and liked—no one seemed to grudge him his good fortune. We all felt that he deserved it. He was a hero, generous and loved. Why should anyone want him dead?’

Hallam’s eyes flicked towards Paul for a moment, but then he gave a slight shake of his head, as though dismissing his thoughts.

‘I have no idea—but I shall discover the name of this devil if it takes me the rest of my life. I shall see that he pays the price of his evil deed.’

Paul had moved closer, listening to their conversation. ‘I intend to track the fellow down,’ he said and glanced at Lucy. ‘This has caused pain and grief to us all—and I shall never rest until the culprit is caught and brought to trial.’ He frowned as his cousins remained silent. ‘You can’t think I...? I shot a rat and I heard shots from the back parlour almost at the same moment.’

‘I think we should begin our investigation there,’ Adam said. ‘If the murder happened in the parlour, we should find evidence of it there.’

‘Yes, I’ll make a search at once,’ Hallam said. ‘Excuse me, I will leave you to comfort the ladies as best you can.’

Adam nodded, watching as his cousin walked away. He glanced at Paul. ‘You have not remembered anything? You did not see anyone? Did Mark have an enemy that you know of?’

‘I’ve already told you.’ Paul glared at him. ‘Just because I had a shotgun—for God’s sake, Adam, you know I would have given my life for his. He saved mine in France. I adored him. He was always my idol—the brother I admired and followed since I was in short breeches.’

Adam glanced towards Lucy, who had been approached by the housekeeper and was about to visit her dying fiancé.

‘No, no, Adam, do not think it,’ Paul said fiercely. ‘Whatever my feelings may be in that direction, she was Mark’s. I would not...you cannot imagine that I...’ He gave a snort of disgust and walked swiftly from the room, leaving Adam alone with Jenny.

‘I must apologise for bringing you here,’ he said. ‘I did not dream that we should find such a distressing situation.’

‘You could not have known,’ Jenny replied and dabbed at her cheeks. In trying to comfort Lucy, she had shed tears of her own. ‘It was a terrible, terrible thing to happen. I am sorry to be causing you some bother. I should not be here.’

‘I am glad you are,’ Adam said. ‘Lucy will have much to bear in the next few days and weeks. She will need a good friend. You came to share her happiness. Instead, you find yourself her comforter. It is not a pleasant situation but I believe you will rise to the occasion. Had you not been here I think she would have given way completely.’

‘She would have been at home when she received the news and her mama would have comforted her,’ Jenny said in a practical tone. ‘She came to collect me, of course—but at least it may give her the comfort of seeing him still alive. I understand that tomorrow might have been too late?’

‘I am certain it would. I do not imagine he will last the night. I do not know if that will comfort her at all—I can only pray it will once her first terrible grief has abated.’

‘You must all be grieving,’ Jenny said. ‘You held him and he was conscious for a moment—did he say anything of importance?’

‘A message for his father only. Had he given me a name I should have sought the villain out at once—’

A terrible cry from Lucy broke into their conversation. They looked at one another. Lucy’s wild sobbing from upstairs must mean only one thing.

‘Your cousin...should you go up to them?’

‘Yes, please excuse me. Forgive me, this is a terrible experience for all of us.’

Jenny nodded. ‘I beg you do not think of us—go to your family. If Lucy needs me, I shall be here in the parlour.’

* * *

Adam had already said his farewells to his cousin, but it was obvious that Lucy was in great distress, as was his uncle. He sent for the housekeeper, who tried to persuade Lucy to go to bed, but she could not be persuaded for more than half an hour, flinging herself on the bed and holding Mark’s hand as if she would never let go. Eventually she was persuaded to leave her fiancé’s body, led away by the housekeeper to a bedroom where she could weep in grief and given a hot tisane to calm her nerves.

Mark’s father sat pale and still looking ill and Adam persuaded him, too, to seek his bed while the housekeeper did what was needful for his cousin. He looked down at Mark, a mixture of regret, pity and anger in his handsome face.

‘Forgive me that I could do nothing,’ he said with the ring of emotion in his voice. ‘You saved my life, Cousin, but I could not save yours. One thing I promise you—I shall not rest until your murderer is brought to justice.

Leaving his cousin’s room, he went downstairs to the parlour. Jenny looked at him, grief and pity in her face.

‘Lucy is distraught, of course, as your uncle and cousin—and you, of course—must be—’ She broke off as Hallam returned to the front parlour.

‘I have found our evidence,’ Hallam said a look of grim determination of his face. ‘Some shots broke a Chinese vase before entering the wall in the back parlour, the garden entrance to which is just beyond the entrance to the walled garden, where Paul was shooting a rat. The culprit could not have entered from the walled garden or left that way. Anyone making an escape from the Chinese parlour would have had to leave by running across the open courtyard that leads to the stables.’

‘Then one of the grooms may have seen something,’ Adam said. ‘Shall I speak to them—or shall you?’

‘I shall question them,’ Hallam said and frowned. ‘I must say I am relieved to find the evidence. There is only a locked gate from the walled garden to the courtyard and anyone there would not have seen the murderer escape that way. Anyone in the walled garden would have had to go through the house if he came from there...unless he had a key to the gate?’

‘Paul came from the side of the house and must therefore have the key. If he were in the walled garden in the first place...’

‘You doubt it?’ Hallam’s brows arched. ‘I know your thoughts, Adam—but I cannot think...’ He glanced at Jenny. ‘We shall discuss this another time. Please excuse me.’

Adam glanced at Jenny again. ‘I fear this is most uncomfortable for you, Miss Hastings. Did the housekeeper bring you some tea?’

‘Thank you, she did. You must not be anxious for me, sir. I know you wish to be with your cousin. You have important business. I shall sit here quietly by myself while you do what you must. When Lucy is ready we shall return to her house.’

‘You are a sensible young woman,’ Adam said. ‘I can only repeat that I am glad you were here for Lucy’s sake—though I wish you had both been spared such a terrible tragedy.’

‘We must all wish that, sir.’

He inclined his head to her and then hurriedly left the room in his cousin’s wake. Jenny sat down again and let her eyes travel round the elegant parlour. It was a beautiful house and Mark would have inherited it in due course—and Lucy was to have been his wife.

Could his brother have killed him in the hope of stealing his birthright and his fiancée? His cousins had clearly considered it, to judge from their odd looks at him and each other. To Jenny’s impartial eyes the answer seemed clear. Paul Ravenscar had been shocked and distressed to see his brother bleeding and wounded in Mr Miller’s arms. Yet she sensed that both the cousins had half-suspected him, though reluctantly. Paul Ravenscar might covet his brother’s future wife, but Jenny was as certain as she could be that he had not murdered Mark to gain his heart’s desire and she felt sympathy for him. In the unfortunate circumstances there was bound to be some doubt, however.

As no one was likely to ask her for her opinion she could not give it. She was a bystander in all this and must make herself as unobtrusive as possible. Only when she was alone with Lucy and able to offer comfort might she speak her mind—should her friend wish to discuss the identity of the rogue who had killed the man she loved.

* * *

‘Why do you suspect Paul?’ Hallam demanded as the two men met on the way to the stables. ‘I know he had a gun—but he is devoted to Mark. You know it as well as I that he would have done anything for him...’

‘It was something Mark said as he fell into my arms—a warning that may be taken two ways.’ Hallam frowned as Adam repeated Mark’s cryptic words. ‘He may have meant that his father should protect Paul—or something else.’

‘Yes, I see. Now I understand why you have doubts, but I feel that Mark meant to warn you that his brother’s life could also be in danger.’

‘I shall interpret it that way for the moment, but I must keep an open mind. I care for them both and this is more painful than I can express.’

‘As much for Paul as for us,’ Hallam said. ‘To be suspected of harming his brother is terrible, especially as he is torn apart by his grief.’

‘Yes, I know. I could see it in his face, therefore I must accept that the warning was in order to protect Paul from this enemy—but who is the rogue and why would he wish Mark dead?’

‘If we knew that we might have some hope of discovering his identity. One of the grooms recalls seeing a man run past the stables and disappear into the orchard, where he must have left his horse. His impression was that the man was in his thirties, dark-haired and a gentleman by his clothes—and that is all he can recall. He was grooming one of the mares and did not bother to look more closely.’

‘That description might fit anyone,’ Adam said and ran his frustrated fingers through his hair. ‘What do we do next, Hal?’

‘I imagine we must make a search of Mark’s rooms. If there is a clue, it may tell us something.’

‘Then we must wait until after the funeral,’ Adam said. ‘We cannot search his rooms while he lies there—or until he has been interred in the family crypt.’

‘I see no help for it but to wait. I know you are impatient to begin your search, as I am—but it cannot be. We could make enquiries in the village as to whether a stranger has been seen. Someone may know more of this man Paul’s groom saw.’

‘It was Paul’s groom that saw the stranger running away?’

‘Yes, why?’ Hallam frowned. ‘No, no, that is too much, Adam. The man is as honest as the day and I would swear he had no thought of lying to protect Paul. You do him and Paul a disservice.’

‘Yes, I am not being fair,’ Adam admitted. ‘I shall accept that the murderer was a gentleman of sorts and that he came here to murder Mark—what we need to discover is why.’

‘I shall ride to the village to discover what I can.’

‘I think I should escort Lucy and Jenny to Dawlish Hall. I should not care for them to go alone with a murderer on the loose for we do not know if my cousin was killed because of his coming nuptials.’

‘By someone who wants Lucy for himself?’ Hallam nodded. ‘There are several men who might covet her for her beauty and her fortune. I believe her maternal grandfather left her more than twenty thousand pounds in trust, which may be broken on her marriage.’

‘I suppose that would be as good a motive as any for some men,’ Adam said and frowned. ‘Yet I have a suspicion that the mystery may go much deeper.’

‘Whatever, it will not do to have the ladies return to Dawlish alone. You must certainly escort them.’

* * *

‘Lucy does not wish to leave this evening. I shall sit with her and together we shall keep a vigil,’ Lord Ravenscar told Adam later that evening. ‘I have instructed Mrs Mountfitchet to provide rooms for the young ladies so that Lucy may retire when she feels able. The ladies wish to be together and it is the least we can do. I have sent word to Lady Dawlish. I asked Miss Hastings if she would wish for an escort to the Dawlish house, for it must be awkward for her here, but she says she shall not desert Lucy.’

‘I would not expect her to say anything else,’ Adam said. ‘You need not worry for her too much, sir. I shall take it upon myself to keep the young lady company. When the funeral is over I shall search his rooms for evidence—there may be something in his papers that will help us discover the truth of this terrible business.’

‘Yes, well, I shall leave it all to you and Hallam,’ Lord Ravenscar said. ‘Paul is in dark despair at the moment, but I think he will wish to help as soon as he is able.’

‘Yes, of course. We shall all do our utmost to bring this evil monster to justice, Uncle. I give you my word that if it is possible he will hang for his crimes.’

‘I know I can rely on you all. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I shall sit with Mark again for a while. Lucy ought to rest, but she cannot be brought to leave his side. Perhaps it is the best way for her to grieve, poor lass, but I shall persuade her to her bed as soon as I can.’

‘In the circumstances it is hardly to be expected that she would not be deeply affected. She would have been his wife next month.’

Lord Ravenscar passed a shaking hand over his brow and went away. Adam turned towards the parlour where he knew Miss Hastings to be sitting. Although it had been a warm day the evening had turned chilly and a fire had been lit in the parlour. Pausing on the threshold, Adam was struck by the quiet beauty of the young woman’s face as she sat staring into the flames. A glass of wine and a plate of almond comfits had been placed on a small wine table beside her and she had a book in her hand, but it was clear she had been unable to concentrate. She looked up as he entered the room, inquiry in her steady grey eyes.

‘Mr Miller—is there any news?’

‘I fear not and it may be some time before we can track him down, but I promised my cousin I would do it and I shall,’ he told her. He went forwards to warm himself by the fire as she sat down again. ‘You find us at a very sad time for all concerned, Miss Hastings.’

‘Do please call me Jenny,’ she said. ‘We have gone beyond formality, I think. I feel a part of this family for I grieve sincerely for your loss.’

‘How kind of you.’ Adam inclined his head. ‘How could it be different for at such times we are drawn together in grief. It is all the worse because we had such hopes for the future.’

‘Lucy is distraught,’ Jenny said. ‘I do not know how she can bear it, to be so close to happiness and have it snatched away so cruelly. I am determined to be here when she needs me. I know her mother is close at hand and I dare say she may come—but sometimes it is easier to talk to one’s friends, do you not think so?’

‘Yes, I agree entirely. This terrible tragedy will not change your plans?’

‘Oh, no. I shall stay for Lucy’s sake—and in truth for my own. I should not wish to return to my uncle’s house.’

‘Was he unkind to you?’

‘Not exactly—but he did not treat me just as he ought and I prefer to live at Dawlish for the moment. The family will be in mourning and perhaps there are ways in which I can help.’

‘Lucy will need a companion she can talk to. I dare say she may weep on your shoulder a deal of times.’

‘Then we shall weep together for I find this very sad.’

‘Indeed. I think my grief may ease a little in pursuit of my cousin’s killer. I can do nothing for the moment, but I intend to search him out—whoever he may be.’

‘Do you have a clue?’

‘One of the grooms saw a man running away—a gentleman by his clothes, dark hair and perhaps thirty-something in years.’

‘So many men fit that description. You will need more if you are to find him.’

‘Yes, I fear that is the case. We shall not give up until we catch him. There are ways to draw the devil out, I dare say.’

‘I wish you good fortune,’ Jenny said, and then as they heard voices in the hall she stood up once more and turned towards the door. ‘I believe that is Lady Dawlish...’

She was right for the lady in question surged into the room and opened her arms to Jenny, who went into a perfumed and tearful embrace with every evidence of warmth and affection.

‘Where is my poor darling girl?’ the lady said, sniffing into a handkerchief heavily doused in lavender water. ‘I do not know how she will bear this terrible blow.’

‘She is sitting with Mark,’ Jenny said. ‘I fear she is suffering greatly, ma’am, but we shall help her to bear her grief.’

‘He has gone then...’ Shock was in the lady’s face and she made the sign of the cross over her breast. ‘How terrible for Lord Ravenscar—and my poor child. She was so happy...’

‘Yes, I know. This has been a terrible blow—to lose the man she would have married, her childhood hero...it is devastating.’

‘You will not leave us,’ Lady Dawlish said. ‘My poor child will need you to support her in this her hour of need. I know it will be hard for you and not what was promised.’

‘Do not fear, ma’am. I shall not desert her. Lucy is as dear to me as the sister I never had. You may rely on me to be there for her whenever she needs me.’

‘I was certain I might.’ Lady Dawlish blew her nose. ‘My sensibilities are almost overset. I do not know how I could have borne to see my child in such affliction, but you will be my strength, Jenny. You will help us to face what must be.’

Adam saw that Jenny was well able to cope with the lady’s slightly histrionic behaviour and felt it a good thing that Lucy would not have to rely solely on her mama for support.

He rang the bell and asked for tea to give the distressed ladies some temporary relief and left them to comfort each other. Having remembered that Mark kept some of his belongings in the boot room, he decided to go through the pockets of his greatcoats. There might just be a letter or a note of some kind that would give him a starting point.

Watching Lady Dawlish’s distress and seeing the reflection of it in Jenny’s eyes had affected him deeply. Anger and grief mixed in him, sweeping through him in a great tide.

When he discovered who had murdered his cousin in cold blood he would thrash him to within an inch of his life.

Chapter Four

‘Paul...’ Adam cried as he saw his cousin in the boot room removing the muddy boots he’d worn for riding. ‘Thank God you’re back safe. I was beginning to think you might have come to harm. There is a murderer out there and he might not have finished with this family.’

Paul turned his head to look at him, a glare of resentment in his deep-blue eyes. ‘You’ve changed your tune. Earlier today you thought I’d killed Mark. Do not deny it, for I saw it in your eyes.’

‘You had the shotgun and...’ Adam shook his head. ‘I’m sorry if I doubted you. I know you loved him.’

‘So you damned well should,’ Paul muttered furiously. ‘Yes, I love Lucy and if she’d ever looked at me I should have asked her to marry me—but it was always going to be Mark. I would never have harmed him. You must know it, Adam?’

‘It was just something Mark said.’

‘Explain,’ Paul demanded and Adam told him word for word. He nodded. ‘I see why you might have thought—but I swear it was not me.’

‘Then you must be careful. I came here to go through the stuff Mark keeps here. I cannot search his rooms yet, but I need to be doing something. I want that devil caught, Paul. When I get him I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll not forget before I hand him over to the law.’

‘He won’t live long enough for the law to deal with him if I find him first,’ Paul said and cursed. ‘Mark didn’t deserve this, Adam. It makes me so angry...and it hurts like hell.’

‘Yes, it must. I know. We shall all miss him like the devil.’

‘It’s as if a light has gone out,’ Paul said and dashed a hand across his cheek.

‘We’ll find him,’ Adam promised. ‘We shall search until we find him whoever he is. He will not escape justice.’

‘I shall not rest until he is found.’

‘Nor I.’ Adam had begun to go through the pockets of Mark’s coats. He found an assortment of string, bits of wood and a receipt for two hundred guineas for a new chaise. ‘There is nothing here—unless he fell out with someone over this?’

‘The chaise he bought from Parker? No, nothing wrong there—they were both quite happy with the deal.’

‘Well, we must wait until after the funeral...’

‘Don’t!’ Paul said and struck the wall with his fist. ‘I can’t bear to think of him lying dead in his room.’

‘There is nothing you can do for him except help to find his killer.’ Adam placed a hand on his shoulder, but Paul shrugged it off and strode from the room, leaving him alone. He swore beneath his breath. ‘Damn it...damn it all to hell...’

* * *

‘Miss...Jenny,’ Adam called as he saw her at the bottom of the stairs, clearly preparing to retire for the night. Her air of quiet composure struck him once more. What a remarkable woman she was—an oasis in a desert of despair. ‘Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you—or Lady Dawlish?’

‘Lady Dawlish is with Lucy for the moment. I am going to the room, which I shall share with Lucy. Her mama is trying to persuade her to rest for a while. She looks so drained.’

‘Yes, she must be. I am relieved that she has you to turn to, Jenny. You have behaved with great restraint and yet so much sympathy. Many young ladies would have needed comforting themselves after what you saw.’

‘My feelings have been affected, but to give way at such a time when others had so much more right to be distressed would have caused unnecessary suffering. I did only what I considered proper, sir.’

‘No, no, you must call me Adam.’ He smiled at her. ‘You must know that your conduct has given me the greatest respect for your character. I think we were fortunate that you were here.’

Jenny flushed delicately. ‘You make too much of my part. Lucy is my friend and I thought only of her feelings—and your family.’

‘Yes, precisely. But I am keeping you when I am certain you must need some privacy and a place to rest. Goodnight, Jenny.’ He took her hand and touched it briefly to his lips.

‘Goodnight...Adam.’

She blushed prettily before turning away. Adam watched her mount the stairs. He noticed that she had a way of walking that was quite delightful. Her presence had lightened the load he might otherwise have found unbearable.

A swathe of grief rushed through him, but he fought it down ruthlessly. He would not give way to the arrows of grief that pierced him; anger should sustain him—anger and his admiration for a quiet young woman who had problems of her own to combat, but had unselfishly thought only of her friends.

* * *

Jenny closed the bedroom door. It had been a difficult evening and at times she’d felt close to giving way to a fit of weeping. However, she’d sensed that Lucy was on the verge of hysteria so she’d controlled her own nerves and done all she could to ease her friend’s terrible grief. And then Lady Dawlish, a kind but sensitive lady who seemed almost as overset by the tragedy as her daughter.

However, Mr Adam Miller’s kind words and the look in his eyes had lifted Jenny’s spirits. She was astonished at the change in his character, for at the ball in London he’d seemed proud and arrogant—but in times of stress and tragedy one discovered the truth about the people around one. She had gone from feeling wary when he offered to take her up in his phaeton, to being amused and now her feelings were far warmer than was sensible for a man she hardly knew.

Jenny had realised shortly after she was taken up in Mr Miller’s phaeton that he thought her in the position of an unpaid companion—perhaps some kind of poor relation. Her uncle’s antiquated carriage, the plainness of her gown, which her aunt had purchased in a spirit of generosity, but according to her own notions of economy, and something Jenny had said had made him think her if not penniless, then close to it.

Mr Miller—or Adam, as he’d invited her to call him—had taken pity on her because of her situation. What would he think if he knew that her father had left her comfortably situated? He might despise her, think her a liar or that she had deliberately deceived him. Yet there was no need for him to know. None of her friends knew the truth. Most must have assumed that her father had lost much of his money—why else would her uncle have disposed of his house, horses and carriages? Jenny thought it nonsensical for had she still been able she might have lived in her own home and paid a companion. Yet she was content to live with her friends. She liked pretty clothes and trinkets, but would not have bought an extensive wardrobe even had she been consulted. However, her aunt’s taste for very severe ensembles was not precisely what Jenny liked and, as soon as she received the allowance Mr Nodgrass had agreed to, she would indulge herself with some prettier gowns. For the moment grey or dark colours would be more suitable, because Lucy and her family would undoubtedly wear mourning for a time.

Taking the pins from her hair, Jenny let it fall on her shoulders. Dark and springy with red tones, it was apt to tangle and she had to attack it with her brush to make it settle into acceptable waves and curls. Her eyes were a soft grey, her mouth inclined to curve at the corners most of the time and her nose short with a sprinkling of freckles. She knew that she was considered attractive, though she thought her nose too short for beauty. Had Papa and Mama lived she would have been having her Season this year—or perhaps she might already have been married. Her father’s tragic death had led to her living in seclusion for months at her uncle’s house. The prospect of Lucy’s wedding had been enticing for she was due some gaiety and a relief from mourning, but that was no longer to be.

Her heart was too tender to feel resentment. For the moment all that mattered was to be of comfort to Lucy and her family. However, she could not help thinking that Adam Miller was one of the most attractive men she’d ever met. When he’d kissed her hand a tingle had gone down her spine and she’d been aware of an urgent desire to be taken into his arms and be kissed on the lips—and that thought was too disgraceful!

How could she think of such a thing at a time like this? Was she shameless?

Her thoughts were nonsensical. Besides, he had made his feelings about heiresses plain in London. Adam might need to marry one, but he did not like them. If he discovered that she was not the poor companion he thought her, he would probably imagine she’d lied on purpose to entrap him.

Shaking her head, Jenny hid her smile of amusement as the door opened and Lucy entered. She looked pale, but her tears had dried and when Jenny held out her hands she took them.

‘I have left him with his family,’ she said. A little sob escaped her. ‘Do you think he knows that I sat with him, told him I loved him? There is so much I wished to say and now it is too late.’

‘I am sure he knew you loved him...’

Lucy shook her head and turned away to unpin her hair. She slipped off her dress, but did not remove her petticoats. ‘I feel so guilty,’ she said. ‘Oh, Jenny. If only I could bring him back...if I could explain...’

‘Explain what, dearest?’

‘Nothing. I cannot speak of it now,’ Lucy said and dashed away her tears. ‘I must try to sleep if I can.’

‘We shall be quiet, but I am here if you want to talk.’

‘I need to talk, but I cannot yet,’ Lucy said, an oddly defensive expression in her eyes. ‘Perhaps in a few days—but you must not condemn me when I tell you and you must promise not to leave me. I do not think I could bear Mama’s smothering if you were not here.’

Jenny pulled back the sheets for her. ‘Come to bed, Lucy.’

Lucy smiled gratefully. ‘I think that perhaps I could sleep now.’

‘Yes, we shall both sleep if we can.’

Jenny lay listening to the sound of Lucy’s laboured breathing as she tried to smother her tears. Her body trembled as the grief poured out of her, but after a while she quietened and then fell asleep. Jenny was too thoughtful and uncertain to sleep herself for some time and the reason for her restlessness was a pair of dark eyes and a face that was almost too handsome.

* * *

‘Mark slipped away quietly with all his family about him,’ Adam said to the vicar when he called the next day. ‘I am certain Lord Ravenscar will want to talk to you about the arrangements, perhaps later this afternoon. He is resting for the moment.’

‘Yes, of course. I am entirely at his disposal. I shall return later.’

Adam nodded. Lord Ravenscar had already arranged for his son’s body to lie in state in the chapel for three days before the funeral.

‘The tenants and workers will want to pay their respects,’ he’d told Adam earlier. ‘He would have been their lord when I depart this earth and it is only fitting that they should have the chance to say goodbye.’

Adam had agreed. It also meant that he could now make a search of his cousin’s rooms, which he needed to do as soon as possible. Hallam had remained at the house through the night and he, Paul and Adam were to meet shortly to begin their search. Lucy and her mother were at that moment enclosed with Lord Ravenscar, but would be leaving for home later that morning. So if he were to make his search before escorting them, he must begin now.

After taking leave of the vicar, Adam went up to Mark’s room. Hallam and Paul were already there and had begun the search in Mark’s sitting room. Paul had the top drawer of the desk open and was looking through some papers he’d discovered.

‘I thought I’d take the dressing room,’ Hallam said. ‘Adam—would you do the bedchamber, please?’

‘Yes, of course.’

Adam walked into his cousin’s room. The bed had been stripped down to the mattress and left open, the maids having been told to leave it that way for the time being. All the bloodstained sheets and covers had been taken away to be burned. A shiver of ice ran down Adam’s spine as he approached the bedside cabinet. Pictures of his cousin lying in the bed made it feel wrong to be searching this room, which was why Paul and Hallam had decided against the task.

In normal circumstances the room would have been left for weeks or months before being touched, but they did not have that luxury. Painful as it was, it must be done now. Gritting his teeth, Adam pulled open the drawers of the chest at the right-hand side one by one. Mark’s trinkets had been thrown carelessly into them and there was an assortment of fobs, shirt pins, buttons, a silver penknife, a small pistol with a pearl handle, a pair of grape scissors and some gloves—a woman’s by the look of them. Also a scented handkerchief that smelled of roses, also a lady’s, almost certainly Lucy’s. There was besides a bundle of letters tied with pink ribbon.

Extracting the top one, Adam discovered that they were from a lady, but not Lucy—instead, her name was Maria. After dipping into the first, Adam formed the opinion that the lady had been Mark’s mistress for a time. She seemed to have accepted that their liaison must end when he married, but asked that they meet one last time—and she thanked him for a ruby bracelet, which he’d given her as a parting gift. He replaced the remaining letters unread.

In another drawer, Adam discovered a jeweller’s receipt for the ruby bracelet and also two more for a set of pearls and an emerald-and-diamond ring, also a gold wedding band. He searched all the drawers in the expectation of perhaps finding the jewels, but they were not to be found. He would have to ask if Paul knew anything of them and if they might be in Lord Ravenscar’s strongroom.

His search extended to a handsome mahogany tallboy, which contained Mark’s shirts, handkerchiefs, gloves, silk stockings and smalls. It was when he came to the very last drawer that he found a black velvet purse hidden under a pile of cravats and waistcoats. Drawing it out, he tipped the contents into his hand and gasped as he saw the diamond necklace. It lay sparkling on the palm of his hand, the stones pure white and large, an extremely expensive trinket—and not one that he’d seen an invoice for.

‘Found anything?’ Hallam’s voice asked from the doorway. Adam held up the necklace. ‘What is that? Good grief! That must have cost a fortune!’

‘Yes, I should imagine so. I found a receipt for some pearls and an emerald-and-diamond ring, but a bill for the diamonds was not amongst the receipts. This was in the tallboy, but no receipt.’

‘Mark bought pearls and a ring for Lucy,’ Hallam said. ‘I know because Ravenscar asked me if he should give them to her today. I thought it best to wait for a few weeks. He did not mention the diamonds so I have no idea...’

Paul walked in. ‘You’ve found something?’

‘This...’ Adam held it out for him to see. Paul took it, whistling as he saw the purity of the diamonds and their size.

‘This cost the earth. I wonder where he bought it. I saw Lucy’s wedding gift and I know where he bought the pearls and her ring—but he made no mention of diamonds. These would be worth a king’s ransom, I think. I’m certain Mark did not buy them for Lucy or he would have mentioned it.’

‘If he did buy them.’

‘You didn’t find a receipt for them?’ Adam shook his head.

Paul shook his head. ‘There was a load of receipts in a wooden coffer in the dressing room, but all for small things like gloves—oh, and a pair of pistols. I can’t imagine that Mark would have been careless over something like this. If he kept receipts for his shirts, why not keep one for a necklace like this?’

‘It should be here if he had one,’ Hallam said.

‘If?’ Adam frowned. ‘He must have bought it—mustn’t he?’

‘Mark wouldn’t steal, if that’s what you’re implying.’

‘Of course not—but what is the alternative?’

‘He might have won it in a card game,’ Paul suggested.

Adam nodded grimly. ‘Precisely. Now supposing the previous owner came to demand the return of his property?’

‘You think they might have quarrelled over it?’

‘Perhaps.’ Adam frowned. ‘It’s the only clue we have.’

‘I don’t see how it helps,’ Paul said.

‘A necklace like this will be recorded somewhere,’ Hallam said. ‘It must have come from a London jeweller. At least that is where I shall start to enquire as soon as the funeral is over.’

‘It must be put away in Father’s safe for the moment,’ Paul said, a wintry look in his eyes. ‘If that devil killed Mark to get this, he won’t leave it there. He may return and look again.’

‘Yes. I’ve searched all the furniture, but I haven’t been through Mark’s pockets yet.’ Adam glanced at his gold pocket watch. ‘I must take Lucy and Lady Dawlish home. I’ll finish in here later.’

‘Couldn’t face it myself,’ Paul said. ‘I’ll lock the necklace away—and then Father wants me to sort out the details of the service. He’s feeling under the weather.’

‘I ought to go home and make some arrangements,’ Hallam said. ‘If you wouldn’t mind finishing in here alone later, Adam?’

‘Of course not. Mark would understand why we have to do this. You shouldn’t feel awkward, either of you—but I know how it feels.’

The cousins left the suite of rooms together. Adam then locked them and pocketed the key. He was frowning as he went down to the hall, where Lucy and Lady Dawlish had paused to say farewell to their host.

‘It was so kind of you to come.’ Lord Ravenscar took Lady Dawlish’s gloved hand. ‘And you, Miss Dawlish. Words cannot express my feelings.’

‘Or mine, sir,’ Lucy said, looking pale and distressed. ‘Forgive me.’ She dashed a tear from her cheek.

‘Miss Hastings. You will come again on a happier day, please.’

‘Of course, sir.’ Jenny impulsively leaned up and kissed his cheek. ‘I am so sorry for your loss, sir.’

‘Thank you.’ He pressed her hand. ‘If you will excuse me now. Adam is to escort you both home.’

‘How kind,’ Lady Dawlish said, shaking her head as the elderly gentleman walked away. ‘It breaks my heart to see him so, Captain Miller.’

‘Yes, I fear he suffers more than any of us,’ Adam said. ‘His health is not all it should be. This is a severe blow. All his hopes were centred on Mark and Lucy for the future.’

‘Naturally he expected heirs. Well, we must leave you. You will send word of the arrangements?’

‘Yes, of course. I shall come myself.’

Adam followed as the ladies went outside to the waiting carriage. He assisted them in one by one and a groom put up the steps and closed the door. Mounting his horse, Adam rode a little behind their carriage.

* * *

It had been a solemn procession that left Ravenscar for Dawlish. On their arrival Lord Dawlish came out to take charge and embrace his wife and daughter. Lady Dawlish was in tears, while Lucy was oddly pale and silent.

It was left to Jenny to thank Adam for escorting them.

‘You have been so kind. Will you come in for some refreshments? I know that Lady Dawlish intended to ask, but in the emotion of the moment she forgot.’

‘I should not dream of intruding at such a moment—besides, I have unfinished business,’ Adam told her. ‘There is something I have to do. We must bury my cousin, but my priority is to bring his killer to justice.’

‘Yes, I understand that,’ Jenny said. Impulsively, she reached out to take his hand. ‘You will be careful, Adam. I know that you cannot rest until this evil man is caught and punished—but I think he must be very dangerous and I would not have you share Mark’s fate.’

‘I thank you for your concern,’ Adam said and his smile came from within. ‘I shall take care not to be caught off guard. We may have a clue soon and when we do I shall call on the due process of the law. Paul speaks wildly of killing the rogue, but I prefer that he shall hang for his crimes—though I may give him a good hiding first.’

‘You are so angry and Paul has been torn apart by his grief. I saw it in his eyes when you were holding Mark at the first. You must not suspect him, Adam. He is so terribly hurt by this.’

‘You feel things and you sense them,’ Adam said. ‘If I had not already decided my first thoughts were foolish, I should have accepted your opinion. Thank you for being here. Your calm presence has eased my heart more than you can imagine.’

Jenny shook her head, a flush in her cheeks. ‘If I have helped, I am glad of it, sir—and I would do more if I could.’

‘What we must do is men’s work,’ Adam said. ‘But to know that I may talk to you of what is in my heart means more than I can say.’

The Dawlish family were about to go in. Adam stood back and allowed Jenny to join her friends, then mounted his horse and began the ride back to Ravenscar. For a while his thoughts dwelled on the young woman he had just left, but his thoughts soon returned to his cousin and the hunt for Mark’s killer.

If Mark had won that necklace in a card game, it might have brought the former owner to Ravenscar in the hope of retrieving it—by fair means or foul. Had he tried to buy it back or had he threatened Mark? Mark would surely have allowed the rightful owner to redeem it if he could pay his debt.

Somehow Adam felt there was more here than met the eye. What was he missing? It was an expensive necklace, but surely it was not so important that it would cause a man to do murder to retrieve it? Had it been the deeds to a man’s estate Adam could have understood it—but why kill for a necklace, however expensive?

There must be a further reason. Something of such importance that the murderer had been driven to desperate measures to attempt its retrieval.

In which case he would undoubtedly return to look for it.

Chapter Five

Adam returned to his task of searching Mark’s bedchamber later that afternoon. Having already checked inside the drawers, he took each one out in case something had either been lodged behind or got caught up at the back, but there was nothing to discover. He then began a search of his cousin’s coat pockets. As before he found various small items: a gold fob, a stickpin and several pieces of string, plus two pebbles and a trinket that took stones from a horse’s hooves. It was in a velvet evening coat that he finally came across some gold coins and a handful of screwed-up papers, which, when smoothed out, appeared to be IOUs from a card game.

Mark had won what amounted to five thousand guineas and two different hands had signed the notes. One name was Stafford, which Adam knew to be Lord Jeffery Stafford, or Staffs as his fellow officers affectionately called him. His note was for five hundred guineas; the remaining notes were from Fontleroy.

Mark and Staffs were the greatest of friends. If Staffs had lost five hundred guineas to Mark, he would undoubtedly have paid him when they next met. Fontleroy was another matter. Adam had not been aware that his cousin knew the fellow well enough to play cards with him. The marquis was not a man he would care to sit down with—Adam had once witnessed him cheating, but had kept quiet, advising the victim privately to be on his guard another time, rather than causing a scandal.

Could Mark also have won the necklace from Fontleroy? There was no mention of it amongst the notes—anything to say that he would retrieve it for money at a later date.

Since Adam had now completed his search of the room and both the necklace and the notes had been removed, Adam did not lock his cousin’s room when he left. He would not go there again for there was no reason.

Hallam was to take the necklace to London in an effort to discover the identity of its owner. Adam would show the notes to his cousins. They might provide a reason for Fontleroy to visit Mark, either to redeem them or come to some arrangement, but that meant little. It would be impossible to prove that he had been here or was responsible in any way for Mark’s murder. They had a clue to the possible identity of his cousin’s killer, but no proof as yet that would stand up in a court of law.

Paul was angry enough to take the law into his own hands, but Adam was determined to avoid using more violence than necessary. A thrashing was one thing, but murder was something else. If Paul struck out in anger, killing his victim, it could not bring his brother back.

There was nothing more they could do now until after Mark was laid to rest with his ancestors.

* * *

‘I look terrible in black,’ Lucy said, as she looked at herself in her dressing mirror. ‘Mark would have hated me to wear something like this, I know he would.’ Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke the name of the man she loved. ‘Why did he have to die? I want him back, Jenny. I want him back...’

‘I am sure you do’ Jenny sympathised. ‘I know you loved him.’

‘Mark was to have given me my ring yesterday,’ Lucy said, her throat tight with emotion. ‘We should have dined there last evening amongst friends and our engagement would then have been formally announced to the world—with the wedding at the end of next month, for we did not wish to wait long.’

‘It is so painful for you,’ Jenny said, her throat tight. ‘You must try to get through it as best you can, Lucy dearest. I shall help you as much as I can.’

‘I do not know what I should have done had you not been here,’ Lucy said and sniffed. ‘I wish I need not go, Jenny. Mama says neither of us has to attend the church service unless we wish, but we must be at the reception.’

‘You must decide,’ Jenny told her doubtfully. ‘Mama was always of the opinion that it was not fitting for ladies to attend a funeral—unless it was for a child, husband or parent. Yet it is a matter of choice. I shall abide by your decision.’

‘Papa thinks we should all go since Ravenscar is one of his oldest friends.’

‘For myself I feel it shows respect and I know you would not wish to be lacking in any way, Lucy dearest—but if you really cannot bear it you could tell your mama that you have a terrible headache.’

Lucy sniffed and brushed the tears from her cheeks. ‘No, I shall go—but only to the reception. I do not think I could bear to attend the service and burial.’

‘Then we shall go to the house and wait until your mother and father return with the other guests attending the church. I am certain Lord Ravenscar will understand you are too heartbroken to attend the service.’

Lucy gave a sob and then turned away. As Jenny moved towards her, she swung back to face her and her eyes were bright with a mixture of distress and defiance.

‘Everyone assumes that I’m heartbroken,’ she said, ‘but the truth is I had begun to have doubts. I had intended to speak to Mark and ask if we might wait a little longer.’

‘You were thinking of delaying your wedding?’ Jenny was stunned. ‘Oh, Lucy. I had no idea...’

‘I have been in such turmoil,’ Lucy told her and a little sob broke from her. ‘Our marriage was always the desire of our parents—and Mark was so kind and handsome and generous. I loved him from the time I could walk and he put me up on his horse. Of course I loved him, I cared for him deeply...only I wasn’t sure I wished to be his wife. Sometimes he seemed more like a kind brother than a lover.’

‘Yes, I do understand.’ Jenny nodded. ‘It was as if you were on board a chaise with a runaway horse. You had to hang on because you were afraid to jump off.’

‘You do understand.’ Lucy reached for her hand. ‘I am so glad you are here, Jenny. I could never tell Mama or Papa how I feel, because they would be shocked and even angry with me. I am sad and I do miss Mark—but not in the way people think. It sounds wicked of me, but in a way I am relieved that I shall not have to marry—’ She broke off, her hands flying to her face. ‘I am such a wicked girl to have these terrible thoughts.’

‘Dearest Lucy, you are not in the least wicked,’ Jenny assured her and pulled her hands away. ‘You must not feel ashamed, my love. You cared for Mark as a friend and it is as his friend that you mourn him—and as his friend that you will show your respects today.’

‘I have been thinking that people would think me false and horrid if they knew my true feelings...’

‘Some people might not understand, but I know you, Lucy. I know that your heart is true. You did not wish Mark to die and you would have hated to hurt him had he lived—but I think you must have told him the truth. To have married with so many doubts must have made you both unhappy.’

‘Well, I thought the same—and I’m not certain Mark was truly in love with me. I have thought there might be someone else he liked, but because everyone had assumed we should marry for so long he did not wish to let me down.’

‘He might have been relieved had he lived long enough for you to tell him how you felt,’ Jenny said. ‘I did not know your fiancé well, Lucy, for I met him only once, but from what Adam tells me of him he was a very good person.’

‘Mark was wonderful. Everyone adored him. I loved him, Jenny—but not...not in that way.’

‘I perfectly understand.’ Jenny smiled at her.

‘Yes, of course. You will think me foolish, only...I feel so much better for having told you the truth.’

‘I am glad that I was here,’ Jenny said. ‘Today must be an ordeal for everyone, but it will be over soon enough and then you may start to forget all this unpleasantness.’

‘Yes...’ Lucy looked so woebegone that Jenny sensed there was more, something she had not told her, but she did not press for further confidences. Lucy had unburdened herself as regards her feelings and perhaps now she would be able to face the ordeal before her with a lighter heart. ‘Shall we go down now, dearest? Your mama will be waiting.’

* * *

‘It was unfortunate that it should rain,’ Jenny remarked to Adam later that afternoon. ‘I think it must have made the proceedings uncomfortable.’

‘Fortunately, it left off by the time we had Mark interred in the family crypt,’ Adam said. ‘I must admit the sound of raindrops against the windows was saddening as we listened to the vicar’s sermon.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Jenny hesitated, then, ‘It may be inappropriate of me to ask—but have you discovered anything of importance yet?’

‘Hallam returned from London just before we left for the church. I believe he has some important news. We have discovered a clue—something that leads us to believe Mark’s death may be the result of a card game he won. It is possible that one of the losers had a grudge against him.’

‘That is quite shocking.’ Jenny’s eyes widened in distress. ‘To take a life in such a cause is wicked—but then, there is never an excusable reason for murder. I am so very sorry.’

‘As you know we are all devastated. I think if Hallam has some clue for us it may help, because we must begin to track down our culprit and find a way to bring him to justice.’

‘That will not be easy,’ Jenny said. ‘For the law to work one must have proof.’ She reached out to take a glass from a footman’s tray and because he jerked it away too soon the wine spilled on to her gown. ‘Oh, how foolish of me...’

‘It was not your fault,’ Adam said to Jenny as the footman apologised.

‘It does not matter. It was an accident. Do not worry, it is an old gown. If you will excuse me, I shall go to the chamber we have been given to refresh ourselves. Please do not scold the man, Adam. Truly, it was my fault.’

She smiled at the unfortunate footman and hurried from the room, running up the stairs. At the top she hesitated, trying to recall if she should go to the left or the right; then, just as she turned to the left she caught sight of a door opening at the far end of the right passage. A man emerged, turning away quickly towards the back stairs. Jenny could not but think that she knew the man, but as he swiftly disappeared from view she did not have long enough to be certain.

Shaking her head, Jenny went swiftly along the passage to the ladies’ rest room. A maid was waiting there to assist with accidents and her dress was quickly sponged and dried as much as possible. She thanked the girl and went back down the stairs. Seeing Adam in conversation with his cousin Hallam, she hesitated, then decided that she ought to speak of what she’d seen.

She approached diffidently, because the men seemed to be talking earnestly. ‘Excuse me, Adam—Mr Ravenscar, but I saw something just now. At the top of the stairs leading to the third floor I hesitated to get my bearings and I saw a man emerge from the bedchamber at the far end of the right passage. I seem to recall that room belongs to Mark...’

‘Good grief!’ Adam stared at her in dismay. ‘We thought he might attempt...but today of all days...’

‘We must investigate at once. Miss Hastings—did you see his face?’

‘No, for he turned immediately towards the back stairs and was round the corner and out of view before I could be certain.’

‘Certain of what?’ Adam’s gaze narrowed. ‘Did you know him?’

‘I thought there was something familiar about his build, but I cannot say. I am not sure...just that I felt I ought to know...’

‘You will excuse us.’ Adam followed Hallam, who was already on his way from the large reception room.

Jenny watched him leave, then decided to follow. The two cousins were already at the top of the stairs when she began to ascend them. She reached the landing and saw them enter the room she’d seen someone leave a short time earlier. Instinctively, she walked quickly along the passage and stopped outside the open door. Glancing in, she saw that everything had been disturbed: drawers were left open, papers tossed out to the floor, cushions everywhere and a chair overturned. Feeling awkward and yet unable to resist, she went into the parlour and then as far as the bedroom door, which had been similarly treated.

Adam turned and saw her. ‘You ought not to have followed. Had he still been here there might have been some danger.’

‘I do not think he would return for he has made a thorough search.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Adam grimaced. ‘Had we waited to search, as we should if my uncle had not arranged for Mark to lie in the chapel, he would undoubtedly have found all that he was looking for.’

‘You removed whatever it was, of course.’

‘I did.’ Adam’s mouth thinned with anger. ‘I shall tell you in confidence, Jenny—and this must not go to another soul...’

‘I swear it on my honour.’

‘We found a valuable item in one of Mark’s drawers as well as some promissory notes. Hallam has discovered that the necklace was stolen with other jewels some weeks ago. Further inquiries have told us that the Bow Street Runners suspect the theft to be one of a series against members of the ton. Whoever lost the necklace in a card game—and we are convinced that Mark obtained it in lieu of gold coin for a gambling debt—must have been involved with the thieves, if not the actual thief himself.’

‘Do you know who your cousin gambled with the night he won it?’

‘We have two names, but there may have been others. Hallam was not in possession of all the facts when he set out for London—but he will return to town tomorrow and speak with at least one of Mark’s debtors. He may be able to cast some light on what happened that night.’

‘If you have a witness to what happened, you may know the name of your thief and that would make him the likely killer,’ Jenny said. ‘You must feel as if you are on the verge of a breakthrough.’

‘Unfortunately, we have no proof that the man who lost this necklace came here to kill Mark,’ Adam said and frowned. ‘It would help if you could recall any detail about the intruder—did you see nothing that might trigger your memory?’

Jenny wrinkled her brow. ‘Forgive me, I should truly like to help you. He was wearing a dark coat and breeches—riding clothes—which was what made me wonder what he was doing here dressed that way.’

‘It is a pity you did not tell us at once,’ Hallam said and frowned. ‘I doubt that he would have lingered once he’d finished his work.’

‘I am sorry. It was only as I thought about it afterwards that I realised I might have seen something important. Forgive me. I should have come instantly to tell you.’

‘How could you know?’ Adam said. ‘Hallam, you must not blame Jenny. She is not at fault here. I should have had a guard set on Mark’s room. I did not imagine that anyone would dare to attempt anything of the sort on a day like this.’

‘It is exactly the right moment. The house is full of people and the servants are busy. We were all distracted and concerned for our guests. He has a twisted kind of courage, Adam.’ Hallam glanced at Jenny. ‘Of course I do not blame you for any of this, Miss Hastings. We should have set a guard on Mark’s room. It was the family’s problem.’ He hesitated then. ‘May I ask you to keep this to yourself?’

‘Yes, of course. I should not dream of mentioning it to anyone,’ Jenny said. ‘Forgive me for intruding. I shall go back down now and leave you together.’

She turned and left them, feeling uncomfortable. Had she been quick enough to report what she’d seen to Adam he might have apprehended the stranger.

It was unfortunate that she had not seen the man’s face, but only his back as he turned away. Yet something had seemed familiar to her—but not quite as it should be. Why could she not place it in her mind? If she knew the man he was probably a gentleman, and perhaps a friend of her uncle’s.

No, that was unlikely. Her uncle did not often mix in the circles Mark Ravenscar must have frequented. There were often slight similarities in people, things that made you think you knew someone when you did not.

She would have liked to give the cousins a clue that would lead to the discovery of Mark’s murderer, but she could not and it would be foolish to try to perhaps steer them in the wrong direction.

Adam and Hallam were more than capable of dealing with the mystery themselves and did not need help from her. She must find Lucy. Her friend was in need of comfort and a shoulder to cry on.

* * *

‘So close and yet so far,’ Hallam said as the door closed behind Jenny. ‘Had Miss Hastings come to us at once we might have caught him.’

‘She could not know how important it was,’ Adam said. ‘I feel as you do—but I shall speak to the servants and the grooms. They may have seen a man in riding clothes. Everyone else is wearing formal clothes. I think someone must have noticed him.’

‘It is all we can do,’ Hallam agreed. ‘I wish to God I’d put one of the footman on guard duty.’

‘Had you done so he would have found another way—waited until it was night or come in by the window.’

‘As it is he just walked in and out. How amused he must be at finding it so easy.’

‘Yet he did not get what he wanted,’ Adam said and frowned. ‘We have Mark’s notes and the necklace. You should speak to Staffs. He will recall the game and may know if anyone lost that necklace to Mark that night. We should need a witness. The mere fact that someone lost the necklace in a card game does not make him a thief. He could have been duped into buying it.’

‘In which case he would be unlikely to murder in order to retrieve it,’ Hallam said. ‘If he were not known in society, it would not matter to him—therefore he must be a gentleman. Someone with a reputation to lose.’

‘It all begins to add up—’ Adam said and broke off as Paul walked in dressed in a dark riding coat and pale breeches. ‘Paul, we found this mess—’

‘And you did not think to tell me.’ Paul glared at him. ‘If you imagine I would do something of this kind...’

‘No, of course not. Hallam was with me when Jenny told us of the intruder. We came straight here...’

‘So Miss Hastings knows more than I...’ Paul turned away. ‘I’ve had enough of all this. It is stifling me. I’m going for a ride.’

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Adam said. ‘Hallam has discovered something important. That necklace was stolen—’

‘Are you suggesting my brother was a thief?’

‘No, of course not,’ Hallam said. ‘For goodness’ sake, man! No one is accusing Mark of theft or you of murder. Mark must have won it in a card game, as we thought—but the fact that it is stolen makes it more likely that someone might kill Mark to protect himself from discovery.’

‘Yes, I see what you mean.’ Paul gave them a brooding look. ‘I wish to God that I knew who it was. At this moment I should need no excuse to break his damned neck with my bare hands.’

‘Paul...please, do not be foolish,’ Adam said. ‘I know how you feel, but—’

‘How can you know?’ Paul demanded. ‘You don’t have people looking at you, wondering how you feel about becoming your father’s heir. Everything was Mark’s and I feel like a thief because I shall now inherit what ought to be his.’

‘Ridiculous,’ Hallam said. ‘Mark was the elder. Now you are—of course everything will come to you in due course.’

‘Even Lucy?’ Paul’s eyes were dark with grief. ‘I’ve seen the way she looks at me—resentful, as if she wishes it was me who died.’

‘I am sure she has no such thoughts,’ Hallam said. ‘You are being a fool, Paul. Lucy is grieving, as we all are.’

Paul shook his head, muttered something and walked away. Hallam looked at Adam and sighed.

‘He’s like a bear with a sore head.’

‘We can hardly blame him. People will wonder and speculate for a while.’

‘I dare say what is upsetting him is Lucy. You know how he feels about her.’

‘He would never have done anything about it. She was always Mark’s future wife.’

‘Yes, but Mark isn’t here now,’ Adam said. ‘Now there is nothing to stop him asking her to marry him—and yet he can’t. To speak now would be like dancing on his brother’s grave. It must be a terrible feeling to see what you desire most in the world within touching distance, but unable to reach out. He must feel she is still forbidden to him.’

‘Yes, I see what you mean.’ Hallam looked thoughtful. ‘Poor devil—though...’ He shook his head. ‘Lucy is Paul’s problem. We have more important things to worry about, Adam. If the murderer should turn out to be Fontleroy, we have to discover a way of making him reveal his identity.’

‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ Adam said. ‘That would be difficult, I imagine. With Mark dead there are no witnesses to what happened that day—though if we could prove Fontleroy lost that necklace to Mark in a card game we could threaten him with disclosure. If he thought he might be arrested for theft, he might try to get the evidence from us.’

‘It is a faint hope,’ Hallam said. ‘But first we have to find someone who saw him lose that necklace to Mark—if indeed it was he that lost it.’

‘Do you happen to know where Staffs is staying at the moment? Is he in London or his country home?’

‘It is a wonder he did not come today.’ Hallam frowned. ‘He was one of Mark’s oldest and best friends. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a card from him—is that not strange?’

‘The announcement was in The Times and other papers—and a notice was sent to Mark’s club. I cannot think that he would not have seen it.’ Adam was thoughtful. ‘I believe you should set out for London this evening. If he was a witness...’

‘Then his own life may be in danger,’ Hallam said.

‘And we should also take more care. We have been careless, Hallam. I made the mistake of thinking that the murderer would be running scared—but he may be made of bolder stuff than we imagined. He is certainly ruthless and having murdered once would not hesitate to do so again.’

‘I shall speak to my uncle and leave almost at once. If I do not find Stafford in London, I shall go down to Hampshire, to his country seat—unless I discover he has gone to visit friends.’

‘This grows more dangerous by the minute,’ Adam said and clasped his shoulder. ‘Take care, Hal—I should not like to lose another of my cousins.’

‘I would say the same to you,’ Hallam replied grimly. ‘Be careful when you ride out alone—and keep a loaded pistol with you at all times.’

‘Yes, I intend to, though the search goes on locally,’ Adam replied. ‘I shall wait for your return and in the meantime I shall do my best to restrain Paul from giving way to a fit of despair.’

Chapter Six

‘Where did you go to earlier?’ Lucy asked as they were leaving Ravenscar Court a little later. ‘I looked for you but you had disappeared.’

‘A footman spilled wine on my gown and I had to have it sponged—and then I remembered that I had left my reticule upstairs and went to fetch it.’

‘Oh...’ Lucy frowned. ‘It was odd the way they all left—Adam and Hallam and then Paul. Lord Ravenscar looks so unwell that I felt obliged to sit with him for quite half an hour. I should have liked to tell Paul that his father was not himself, but he had disappeared.’

‘Perhaps he found the proceedings unbearable,’ Jenny suggested. ‘I thought he looked very tense earlier. It must be hard to bear—to lose a brother you love so much.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Lucy said and sighed. ‘People think he will have it all now, but I am sure he does not care for the estate enough—’ She broke off and blushed. ‘Paul has the estate his maternal grandfather left him. Why should he covet what Mark had? I do not think it of him—do you?’

‘Not at all. I believe he is genuine in his distress.’

‘Yes. So why...?’ Lucy wrinkled her nose prettily. ‘I hoped he might speak to me, tell me how he feels, but he is avoiding me. Every time I approach he moves away and he will not look at me.’

‘I dare say he is still too upset to think clearly.’

‘It is almost as if he blames me...’

‘No, how could he? No one could blame you, Lucy.’

‘No—and yet Paul does blame me for something.’ Lucy blinked hard. ‘Oh, I do not want to talk about any of it. It is all too horrible. I wish we could go away somewhere. I can hardly bear to be near Ravenscar and know...’ She smothered a sob.

‘You will feel better soon, dearest.’

‘Shall I?’ Lucy looked at her in disbelief. ‘I feel that my whole life is ruined.’

‘You must try, Lucy. In a few days people will stop talking about the tragedy and you will be at peace.’

Lucy shook her head, but they had arrived at Lucy’s home. As they got down, Lady Dawlish emerged from her husband’s carriage and came to meet them.

‘Thank goodness that is all over,’ she said. ‘You may change out of that gown now, Lucy my dear. I shall not ask you to wear black again. Your father and I have discussed what is right and proper and he agrees that pale grey or lilac is sufficient.’

‘Thank you, Mama,’ Lucy said and dabbed at her cheek with a lace kerchief. ‘I wish we might go away. I feel so distressed by all this...’

‘Well, we shall think about it,’ her mama said. ‘Your papa is not certain of what would be right for we should not wish to appear uncaring—but I do not wish to see my darling girl in such despair. We could not go to London and balls will be out of the question for some months, but we might visit Bath, perhaps.’

‘Oh, Mama, if we could I should feel so much better,’ Lucy declared.

‘Well, we shall see in a week or two,’ her mother said and patted her cheek. ‘Now run along in and change, my dears. There is nothing to stop you and Jenny walking or riding as usual—and some music in the house might be pleasant. I am sorely grieved for the family, but I see no point in dwelling on something that cannot be changed. However, you must do as you wish, Lucy—for I would not push you into anything you did not like.’

Lucy thanked her and smiled at Jenny. ‘We must change and then we can go for a long walk together. I feel as if I need some air after being indoors all day.’

‘You will not leave the gardens this evening,’ Lady Dawlish said. ‘Time enough for long walks tomorrow, dearest—and then you will take a maid with you, if you please. We must not forget there may be a dangerous man at large.’

Lucy did not argue. Instead she took Jenny by the arm and they went up the stairs together.

* * *

In her room Jenny submitted to the ministrations of her maid and then chose a gown of dark blue. It had lilac tones in the stripes and she did not consider herself to be in mourning; much as she felt for Mark’s family she could not grieve, as Lucy did. Instead, she felt sad for those who had loved him. His brother was in such pain, as were his cousins. She would not forget Adam’s face as he held his dying cousin, but she believed he had conquered his grief, letting anger take over. All his thoughts now would be concentrated on discovering the culprit and in that he was fortunate. Lucy had only regrets and could do nothing to help.

Jenny was upset with herself for not being quicker when she’d seen the intruder. She ought to have run straight back to Adam and told him what she’d seen. Perhaps then the killer might already have been caught.

Hallam had been very annoyed with her, but Adam had been more understanding. She knew that he was very angry over the whole affair and was disappointed with herself for letting him down.

Jenny shook her head. Adam Miller was occupying too much of her thoughts of late. With each meeting her feelings had grown warmer and she thought she liked him very well indeed. Enough to entertain thoughts of what might possibly come to be in the future. Yet she knew it was foolish to hope for more than friendship.

Even if Adam were kindly disposed to her—and his words on several occasions had seemed to indicate it—he might soon change his mind if he knew that rather than the poor dependent he thought her, she was actually a despised heiress. She was not yet certain how much her inheritance amounted to, for although her lawyer had told her she had no need to worry he might think a mere competence sufficient for her needs—especially as she was at liberty to live either with her kind friends or her uncle. If she wished to set up her own establishment and employ a companion, she might yet find herself unable to pay her way.

She wished that she had not allowed Adam to think her in difficulties at the start, though in London he’d seemed so very arrogant and she’d initially found it amusing that he’d taken pity on her because he thought her helpless and in some distress.

She had soon learned to admire him. After witnessing the emotions he’d undergone when his cousin fell dying into his arms, she’d come to realise what kind of a man he truly was and, in the following days, she had learned to appreciate his qualities.

That he had some liking for her was evident, but that did not necessarily mean he was interested in her as anything other than a friend. Jenny bit her bottom lip. If she allowed herself to like Mr Miller too much she would be a foolish girl. And now she must hurry for she did not wish to keep Lucy waiting.

* * *

‘I am so thankful that business is over,’ Lucy said, taking Jenny’s arm as they walked in the cool of the evening air. ‘It was such an ordeal and I do not think I could have borne it without you.’

‘I am sorry I was not there when you looked for me.’

‘Oh...it was only that Lord Ravenscar was so kind to me. I could hardly keep from weeping. He told me that Mark had bought me a pearl necklace and a beautiful emerald-and-diamond ring. He says that they are mine and he will send them to me another day. I did not know how to answer him for I would rather not receive them.’

‘But he gives them because Mark wanted you to have them,’ Jenny said. ‘What else is he to do with them? And they were meant for you.’

‘I should not have had them had we postponed the wedding,’ Lucy said and flushed. ‘It makes me feel that I have them under false pretences, Jenny.’

‘Yes, I see how you must feel,’ Jenny said. ‘But you must consider Lord Ravenscar’s feelings. If you refuse them, he may be hurt.’

‘I suppose so. I could never wear them...’ Lucy sighed. ‘Why did it have to happen, Jenny? Who could hate Mark so much that he would kill him?’

‘I do not know,’ Jenny replied and felt awkward because she was obliged to keep what she did know a secret. ‘I believe Adam and Hallam may have some clues, but we shall know more when they manage to apprehend the culprit.’

‘I pray they will do so,’ Lucy said and then lifted her head. ‘I shall say nothing more of this. Let us speak of Bath. If only Papa will let us go, it will be such a relief.’

‘Yes, I agree with you. I have been in mourning for my father, as you know, and I should like to buy some new clothes.’

Lucy seized on the temporary escape from gloom. ‘Have you thought of what colours you would like?’

‘I think I should like a ballgown of peach or flame, also evening gowns of emerald green and royal blue, which is always a favourite—and a yellow muslin for mornings. You had a pretty one in town, which I admired. I thought the style became you very well. I do like the puffed sleeves and also the leg of mutton that is popular for day wear.’

‘I like puffed sleeves best of all,’ Lucy agreed. ‘I know the dress you mean. It does suit me. I was wearing that the morning Paul asked me to save him a dance at the ball...’ She flushed. ‘Everyone always thinks Mark was better at everything than his brother, but it isn’t true. Paul waltzes divinely—and he loves poetry. He can quote lines from my favourite poems...’

‘It is always so pleasant when a friend can quote from a poem you love, isn’t it?’ Jenny smiled and squeezed her arm. ‘We always shared a love of poetry, did we not?’

Lucy began to talk happily of poems they both enjoyed and they quoted lines back and forth so that by the time they returned to the house Lucy had laughed several times and her tense unhappy look had gone.

* * *

Dinner had been easier than it had been for some days and when they parted at the end of the evening Jenny felt that her friend was beginning to recover her spirits. She undressed, but felt unready for sleep and perched on the window seat to sit looking out at the moon sailing in a cloudless sky.

She wished again that she’d been able to be of more use to Adam in the matter of the intruder. Why had he seemed familiar to her from a distance? Had she seen his face she might have known him. She wondered if he’d noticed her sooner than she’d noticed him—and whether that was why he’d turned away so quickly.

It occurred to Jenny that if the intruder believed she’d seen him and known him, she might possibly be in some danger herself.

* * *

Adam cursed as he finished his tour of the gardens that evening. He’d put a couple of extra keepers on duty to patrol the grounds, because the intruder might pay another visit during the hours of darkness. If he were truly concerned that the necklace could lead to his being denounced as a thief and a murderer, he would possibly try to discover its whereabouts again. Yet the thought that troubled Adam most was one that had not occurred to him immediately.

Jenny might be in some danger. She had seen very little, but there was a chance she might recall what seemed familiar about the man—and he might believe she’d seen more than she had. If he did, he might consider her a danger to him—and was ruthless enough to sweep away all obstacles in his path.

‘Damn it!’

Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He would have to ride over to Dawlish in the morning and speak to Jenny, because she ought to be on her guard. This man was dangerous and Adam was under no illusions that he would hesitate to murder a woman who could expose him.

It was as he entered the house that he saw Paul about to go upstairs and called to him. Paul hesitated, then came back to him.

‘I’m sorry if I lost my temper earlier, Adam.’

‘You’ve had enough to try you—but take care, Paul. This man may try to kill you next.’

‘What makes you think that? I have no more idea of his identity than you have.’

‘He doesn’t know that and may imagine that Mark told you something of importance,’ Adam said. ‘It is a measure of the devil’s desperation that he came here today when the house was full of guests to try to find that wretched necklace. I almost wish he had.’

‘No! Why?’

‘Because then perhaps other lives would not be at risk. Jenny saw him briefly. If he suspects she saw more than she did...’

‘Yes, I see. If he thought she could identify him, she might be his next victim—as I might if he believed Mark told me about the necklace. Truth to tell, I knew Mark had something on his mind, but did not imagine it was of this nature.’ Paul frowned. ‘You will have to warn her, Adam. This is a hellish affair and gets worse. Miss Hastings must not be allowed to become his victim.’

‘No, indeed. I should not like that at all.’

‘I thought you quite liked her.’

‘She is a sensible young woman. Very different from the young madams that my grandfather has been parading for my benefit. He would not approve, of course, because she has no fortune. He has determined that I shall marry an heiress and I may have to, Paul. His affairs are even worse than I’d imagined. He may be in danger of losing the estate while he lives. I couldn’t stand by and see that happen.’

‘You would not marry money for your own sake, but feel it your duty for his?’ Paul arched his eyebrows.

‘He loves that place,’ Adam said. ‘God forbid that it should come to it—but if it did I might have to find myself an heiress rather than see him go under.’

‘Anyone in mind?’ Paul frowned. ‘Don’t say Lucy Dawlish.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it. She would never look at me—and I would not tread on your toes, Paul.’

‘Some hope I have of marrying her.’

‘In time, perhaps.’

‘It is impossible. Lucy belongs to Mark.’

‘Must no man have her then? Would you condemn her to remain a spinster for her whole life?’

‘She will marry in time—but not me...never me.’

With that, Paul stormed up the stairs, leaving Adam to stare after him. Paul was in terrible agony, but he must battle it alone for there were no words to comfort him.

Adam walked up the stairs more slowly. In the morning he would ride over and speak to Jenny. She ought to be warned that it was possible she might find herself in some danger.

* * *

‘We shall go riding today, Mama,’ Lucy told her mother on visiting her after taking breakfast in bed. ‘Jenny wishes to speak to Adam and I thought we would ride that way.’

‘Providing that you take a groom with you—and tell him to go armed,’ Lady Dawlish said. ‘I do not wish to frighten you, nor do I truly think you in danger, but we must all take care until that rogue is found and tried for his life.’

‘Please do not worry, Mama,’ Lucy said. ‘Timkins always makes a point of taking a pistol with him just in case. We shall be quite safe with him, I promise you.’

‘Yes, I am sure you will. He has always been devoted to the family, Lucy. Enjoy your ride. I shall speak to Papa about the trip to Bath again today. He is a little reluctant, but I dare say I shall bring him about.’

‘It would be better for all of us. I know I am in mourning and it grieves me truly that Mark should have been robbed of life so cruelly but...poor Jenny deserves a little amusement, do you not think so, Mama? She has had enough unhappiness these past months.’

‘Yes, my love, I do. It is in part for her sake that I mean to convince your father. She has had months of mourning for her father and it is time she was allowed to enjoy her life.’

‘Then I am sure Papa cannot refuse us.’

Lucy kissed her mother’s cheek and went down to the hall, where Jenny was already waiting for her.

‘That habit becomes you,’ Lucy said. ‘The blue brings out the colour of your eyes perfectly.’

‘Papa bought it for me just before he died,’ Jenny said. ‘I put it away because my aunt did not think the colour fitting for a young woman in mourning, but now I may wear what I choose.’

‘Fashions move on so quickly, but something like that is so elegant it is timeless,’ Lucy said slightly envious. ‘This is my old habit. I chose it because it is dark blue and the closest I could come to mourning wear. My favourite riding coat is red and frogged with gold braid and buttons. I did not think it suitable at the moment.’

‘Very true. It is extremely dashing, Lucy, and quite the latest thing, but would not be reflective of your mood, I think. You must have a new habit made for you—perhaps grey or some dark shade.’

‘We may both have several outfits made for us in Bath, Jenny. The seamstresses may not be quite up to the London standard—but I cannot wear the clothes that were intended as my bride clothes yet.’

‘No, of course not.’

The groom had brought their horses forwards and helped first Lucy and then Jenny into the saddle. They walked their horses from the yard and were soon trotting happily in the direction of the Ravenscar estate, the groom following just behind them. Since neither of them was much inclined to talk, they concentrated on riding and simply enjoying the fresh air.

* * *

‘Have you seen Mr Ravenscar, Simmons?’ Adam asked of the head groom as he entered the stable-yard. ‘I thought he meant to ride out with me this morning.’

‘Mr Paul went out earlier, sir,’ the groom replied. ‘He—he took Captain Ravenscar’s stallion.’

‘Good grief—did he? Lochinvar is a devil to ride. Mark could manage him, but he kicked up if anyone else tried to mount him.’

‘That is why he hadn’t been exercised since Mr Mark died, sir. We’d all had a go, but the black-hearted devil wouldn’t let us near him. Mr Paul said he had to be given his exercise and insisted on taking him.’

‘Well, if Lochinvar didn’t tip him off in five seconds he may manage him. I pray that one or the other will not be fatally injured before the day is out.’

‘We must hope for the best, sir.’

Adam grimaced, mounted his horse and rode out of the yard. Paul was clearly still out of sorts despite their talk. Adam had hoped that he’d managed to iron things out, but it seemed his cousin was still too distressed to think properly. Lochinvar was a wonderful stallion and Mark had hoped to breed from him, but it took an iron will to control the beast.

At supper the previous night Paul had agreed to ride over to the Dawlish estate with Adam. Jenny needed to be warned to be on her guard—and Adam wanted to see her. He wanted to be sure she understood her situation and would take no chances.

He set out at a brisk trot. The sun was shining brightly and it was warm even though it was still early. By midday it would probably be hot. It was always best to ride early in summer because the horses might find a brisk workout too much if the day became sultry.

Hearing a shot and then a cry, Adam stiffened. The sound had come from somewhere just ahead of him—and the cry had been human. Urging his horse to gallop, Adam raced over the open ground towards a stand of trees. If he were not mistaken, the sound had come from within the trees.

* * *

‘What was that?’ Jenny cried as the shot rang out just ahead of them. ‘I think someone has been shot.’ She was already pushing her horse to a fast canter when the groom cried out a warning from behind, telling her to wait and leave it to him.

Ignoring him, Jenny pushed her horse on and within seconds she saw the figure lying on the ground a few feet ahead of her. She reined in her mount, threw herself down and rushed towards him. With no thought for her gown or her own safety, she knelt beside the fallen man and turned him on his back. He moaned, but did not immediately open his eyes.

‘Are you badly hurt, sir?’ Jenny ran her hands over his face and body, looking for signs of blood, but thankfully could find none. Of his horse there was no sign and she thought it must have thrown him and gone crashing away through the trees. ‘Paul—Mr Ravenscar, please speak to me.’

Another horseman had arrived. Jenny did not look up, but was somehow not surprised when Adam’s voice spoke to her, ‘Is he still alive?’

‘Yes. He moaned just now. We heard the shot, but I cannot find any blood. I think his horse must have been spooked and thrown him.’

‘That is exactly what happened. He was riding Lochinvar—that horse is difficult enough at any time. If the shot were close enough to frighten him, Paul would not have stood a chance of holding on.’

‘Damn and blast...’ Paul muttered, his eyes flickering and then opening. He stared up at them. ‘What the hell happened to me?’

‘You fell from your horse,’ Jenny said.

‘I imagine someone took a pot shot at you and scared Lochinvar silly.’

‘Damn! If he’s damaged himself, Mark will never forgive me,’ Paul said. A moment later his face creased with grief as he realised what he’d said. He was getting to his feet as Lucy rode up and sat staring at them all from the saddle. Paul’s tone was irritable as he said, ‘What is everyone staring at? I took a tumble. It happens to the best of riders from time to time.’

‘Don’t you realise what this means?’ Adam said and offered his hand, hauling Paul to his feet. ‘Someone probably just tried to kill you.’

‘You needn’t rub it in,’ Paul muttered. ‘You will frighten the ladies. It was probably only a poacher.’

‘If you wish to believe that, do so,’ Adam said. ‘We should get you home and send for the doctor.’

‘Doctor be damned.’ Paul glared at him. ‘Do you imagine I’m going to walk?’

‘No—you will take Timkins’s horse,’ Adam said and signed to the groom to get down. ‘The stallion made off in that direction. Would you look for it, please? If Lochinvar will allow you, you may lead him to Ravenscar stables. If not, tie him to a bush and one of us will fetch him later—do not try to ride him if you value your life.’

‘I’ve heard of that devil’s temper,’ Timkins said. ‘Never fear, Captain Miller. If I find him, I’ll lead him or make him secure. If you are to take the ladies to Ravenscar, they will be safe until I come for them.’

‘Perfectly safe, sir,’ Adam said and smiled. ‘You have my word on it.’ He turned to Jenny. ‘Let me help you up. Thank you for trying to assist my cousin. Had I not arrived, I’m sure he would have been well cared for.’

‘We should certainly have done our best, should we not, Lucy?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Lucy was staring at Paul, almost as if she’d seen him in a new light. ‘Are you hurt, Paul? Can you ride?’

‘Of course I can,’ he muttered, then, in a softer tone, ‘Thank you, Lucy. I am bruised, but I think nothing is broken. Had it been any other horse I should not have been thrown despite the shot—but Lochinvar is a wild brute at the best of times.’

‘Why did you ride him?’

‘The poor beast needed the exercise and the grooms are all terrified of him. He is good breeding material, but not wonderful as a riding horse—at least for anyone other than Mark.’

‘You should sell him.’

‘Perhaps—and yet he is a wonderful stallion. Mark said the horse had served him well in France and deserved his time at stud. I think I shall follow my brother’s plans for him as much as possible.’

Lucy nodded, but did not answer. Her face was pale and Paul averted his eyes, refusing Timkins’s offer of support and mounting on his own. He rode with his eyes focused straight ahead, his mouth grim, clearly angry and in some discomfort, though refusing to admit it.

* * *

The little party had ridden at a steady trot and were soon back at Ravenscar. Dismounting at the front of the house, they were immediately surrounded by anxious servants with the information that Lochinvar had that moment returned riderless to his stable.

‘We were about to send out a search party, sir,’ one of the grooms said. ‘That devil wants putting down—no one is safe near it.’

‘You will do nothing of the sort,’ Paul said. ‘The fault was not Lochinvar’s. We were doing very well until...a fox spooked him.’

‘Give the poor beast a hot mash,’ Adam said. ‘And put a blanket over his back. I’ll come and rub him down later.’

‘Yes, Captain Miller.’

Adam offered to help Jenny dismount. She slid from the saddle into his arms and stood looking up at him for a moment before he let her go, a little smile on his lips. Adam turned with the intention of helping Lucy, but Paul had already performed the office for her. The two were staring at one another intently and Adam took Jenny by the arm, steering her towards the house.

‘I was on my way to warn you that you might possibly be in danger,’ Adam told her. ‘If whoever shot Mark believes you saw him leave Mark’s bedchamber, he may think you know more than you do. You must be on your guard, Jenny.’

‘The thought occurred to me last night,’ she admitted. ‘We had decided to ride this way and I meant to ask you if you thought as I did...it is most uncomfortable.’

‘This whole business is a damned outrage,’ Adam said and looked angry. ‘Do you not think it might be a good thing if you were to go away somewhere, Jenny?’

‘Lady Dawlish is thinking of taking us to Bath for a few weeks if her husband agrees. She thinks it would lift Lucy’s spirits. After all, her engagement wasn’t announced officially—though all her friends knew, of course.’

‘I see nothing wrong with a visit to Bath,’ Adam said. ‘No one could take offence at it, at least in this family. I might come down for a while myself—once things are more settled here. My uncle has taken to his room. His doctor says he is worn down and should rest. I think he cannot bear to see any of us for the moment. Hallam has gone to London to discover what he can—and Paul is angry with us all.’

‘Yes, I can imagine this must be harder for Paul than anyone. He is suddenly Ravenscar’s heir and the full weight of responsibility must be on his shoulders. He did not wish to inherit his brother’s birthright and never expected to—but he has no choice. It is a difficult thing to accustom oneself to, I should imagine.’

‘Yes, I believe it is,’ Adam said and looked thoughtful. ‘I have always known that I am my grandfather’s heir. Unfortunately, he has encumbered the estate with so much debt that I am not sure it can be recovered. For myself I should not care. Neither the title nor the estate means much to me. If I could, I would sell and forget it. I should be happy with my own small estate and the woman I loved—but that may not be open to me.’

Jenny felt her cheeks grow warm. What was he saying to her? Was he telling her that he was not free to marry where he chose, but must marry an heiress?

Was that what it had all been about in London? From the remarks she’d overheard, she’d thought him cynical and arrogant, but closer acquaintance had shown her that was untrue. Now she understood why he had been so hard to please—so angry that he found fault with every heiress in the room. He was being forced to make an advantageous marriage for the sake of his grandfather’s estate.

‘I suppose there is always one’s responsibility to the people of the estate.’ She swallowed hard, because it was difficult to find the right words.

‘Responsibility to the dependants is one thing. A good buyer could be found—one who would treat them decently and not drive them into the ground. However, my grandfather loves the house and his lands. It may be that I shall be forced to look for an heiress to set him straight. I could not allow him to lose all he holds dear while he lives. Afterwards, I would gladly sell—but for his sake...’

Why was he telling her all this? Her heart jerked, but before she could speak Lucy caught up to them and slipped her arm through Jenny’s. She squeezed her arm and began to chatter about the most inconsequential things, which told Jenny she was in some distress. Forgetting her own problems, she gave her attention to her friend and Adam walked on ahead.

* * *

For the next hour Adam and Paul entertained them; they were given refreshments, and the carriage sent for to convey them home. Timkins was to ride his horse and lead the others home, but Adam considered it unsafe for them to ride back and sent two armed grooms to accompany the carriage.

Jenny had no opportunity to be private with Adam again and did her best to keep her smile in place as she took her farewell of him, but she felt very uncertain of his feelings and her own.

‘Tell Lady Dawlish I shall call on you another day,’ Adam said as he saw them out to the waiting carriage. ‘Jenny, have a lovely time in Bath. I am persuaded Lady Dawlish will think it the safer option for you both at this time. Once she knows that rogue is still at large she may wish to remove you to Bath sooner rather than later.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Jenny replied. Her face felt stiff from smiling when all she wanted to do was cry. How foolish of her! ‘Please do take care of yourself, sir—and Paul too. I fear whoever this man is, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.’

‘I have hopes that Hallam will solve the mystery in London,’ he said. ‘Remember what I told you, Jenny. Take care—and do not be alone with strangers.’

‘You need not warn me of that,’ she said and then blushed for she had accepted his offer of help when he was a stranger to her. ‘That was different...I knew who you were.’

‘Did you? I fear I did not know your name when I took you up.’

‘I—I saw you in London at a ball and asked your name,’ Jenny said. ‘It was the night that Lucy asked me to stay at her home.’

‘I see...’ Adam frowned and bowed over her hand. ‘I hope to see you again soon.’

Jenny thanked him and allowed him to hand her into the carriage. As it drew away from Ravenscar she was thoughtful, her throat tight with the tears she refused to shed.

Just how rich did Adam need his heiress to be? she wondered. She believed her own fortune was adequate rather than huge, but she was not the poor relation he thought her. If she told him the truth, would he consider making her an offer?

Oh, how shameless of her! They had met but a few times—and yet...and yet every time he came near, her heart raced and each time they met she was more certain that she liked him very well. He was exactly the kind of man she’d hoped to meet and marry one day—but would he feel the same about her? Not if he knew she had deceived him.

Her thoughts were troubled for she did not wish to be asked for in marriage just because her father’s money might save his grandfather from ruin. Jenny needed to be loved for herself. She had thought that perhaps Adam might care for her a little. Oh dear, this was nonsense. They hardly knew one another—and yet she felt as if she had known him all her life. The terrible tragedy of his cousin’s death had broken down all the polite barriers and made her feel bonded to the family, as if they were hers.

Was that what he’d been trying to tell her—that he liked her and might have thought of making her an offer if his circumstances were other than they were? He did not care for a fortune personally, but needed one to pay his grandfather’s debts.

If she told him she had Papa’s money...it still might not be enough. Mr Nodgrass had hinted that she would be well situated, but she had no idea of what she would have or how much the earl owed. It might be many times what she had—and Adam would still be unable to marry her.

Jenny’s pride made her put the idea of telling Adam from her mind. Good gracious, it might sound as if she were trying to buy him, and how shocking that would be. If he’d declared his love and then told her he could not wed her because he needed a fortune, she might have confessed that she had something. However, he had not said that he cared in so many words. To presume too much would be embarrassing. She could only keep her secret until Adam was ready to speak more plainly.

Jenny scolded herself for being too forward. Whatever was she thinking of—to assume that Adam’s feelings were much as hers, which, if truth were told, were all too warm to be sensible.

People did not fall in love so quickly—or did they?

Chapter Seven

Adam cursed Lucy Dawlish for interrupting when he was on the point of telling Jenny his situation. He was not sure how he’d meant to proceed. That he had deeper feelings for Jenny than any other lady he’d ever known was not in doubt. Her calmness and kindness had made him see what an exceptional young woman she was. He’d been aware of her sensuality from the first but she was so much more—so much that he admired.

In any other circumstances he would have wished to get to know her better, to court her a little, to discover if he liked her as well on closer acquaintance and if she liked him sufficiently to think of becoming his wife. He could not doubt the feeling between them. Adam was well aware that physical attraction meant very little. Passion could be white hot and urgent for a time and then fade away and what had been intensely interesting could become boring. His last mistress had been a greedy little thing and although she’d roused his desire at the beginning he had soon found that he did not truly like her. He thought that liking was very important if one were contemplating marriage. Romantic love would be the cherry on top of the cake if one were lucky enough to find it. Paul was certainly deep in love or lust with Lucy Dawlish, which was why he was so tortured.

Adam had never yet felt true love for a woman. He was a sensual man and enjoyed the chase when in pursuit of a pretty woman—but surely there must be so much more to marriage. Otherwise, one would end by being bored, taking a succession of mistresses and perhaps making one’s wife miserable. Adam would hate himself if he were the cause of deep unhappiness in some unfortunate lady.

It was a curst nuisance that he might have to make a marriage of convenience. Adam had done the calculations and knew that he needed the sum of twenty thousand pounds to save his grandfather’s estate. The bank was beginning to make grumbling noises and it could only be a matter of time before they called their money in. Twenty thousand pounds would pay off their loan and leave a little to spare for Adam to begin to restore the estate to at least a semblance of what it had once been.

Where was he to find such a sum? His own estate was not worth a half of that even if he sold it. He needed an heiress who would be prepared to buy herself a husband with a lump sum up front, and the promise of more to come.

Adam mentally reviewed the heiresses his friends had found for him. Only one of them actually had twenty thousand pounds at her disposal—and that was the lady with the squint. He could not recall her name for she had not registered with him, though he remembered she was the wealthiest of them all. He believed she was the daughter of a Cit, though her mother came from a good country family. Her father had no other children and was a widower.

Would he be prepared to give his daughter and her inheritance to Adam for the promise of an earldom in the future?

Why should he? Adam did not consider it a bargain worth the taking. Were he in the father’s shoes he would kick any man to kingdom come who dared to offer such a debt-ridden estate to him as the marriage price. It wasn’t to be thought of!

He was torn by the need to find a way of saving the estate and his preference for a marriage made out of liking and respect. Given his choice, he believed he might know the bride he would choose—but he had no right to court her, no right to allow her to expect an offer.

Adam acknowledged that he liked Jenny very much. Romantic love was something idiots like Byron, Shakespeare and others of their ilk wrote about, was it not? Adam did not dislike good poetry at the right moment—but flowery sonnets about love? He could only feel revolted, as young men often did. Yet now his thoughts had changed subtly. Was it possible that someone could truly die for love? Adam had felt an odd ache in his chest of late, but surely...it could not be love? The kind of love that lasted forever and was as sweet as honey and the scent of roses...

Jenny had her own perfume, unlike any he had smelled before. He found it intoxicating and wanted to bury his face in her hair—her soft warm flesh—and breathe her in, inhale her essence so that she would never leave him.

Adam laughed at himself. What a fool he was to let his thoughts run away with him. He desired Jenny, he liked her and he respected her. She made him long to sweep her into his arms and take her to his room. She was so lovely, so gentle and honest that he could imagine living with her for the rest of his life. He could see her in his house...see her surrounded by children, girls that looked like her and a boy like him.

He shook his head. Adam had no right to dream. He could not marry anyone until he had worked out what to do about his grandfather’s estate.

Was there some other way of saving it—or at least a part of it? Supposing he sold off the land and the mine, which had ceased to produce copper years ago. He might be able to save the house and park. It would mean taking out loans, which would cripple him for years, but after the old man’s death he could sell off what was left of the estate.

There was nothing he could do here for the moment. His uncle kept to his room, Paul had no use for his company and Hallam was in London. Perhaps he should go down to Cornwall and take a look at the old mine. If there should by chance be an undiscovered seam of copper they might yet find a way of saving the house and park without his having to beg an heiress for her money.

* * *

‘Your papa says that he now thinks we should go to Bath,’ Lady Dawlish announced after dinner that evening when the ladies were alone in the drawing room. ‘He thinks it unsafe for you here, Lucy—and, after what happened to Paul, who knows what might occur next? Papa will write tomorrow and secure a house for us. We shall leave in ten days and Papa will accompany us just to see us settled and then return here.’

‘Oh, thank you, Mama,’ Lucy said, her face lighting up. ‘Papa is so good to allow it.’

‘Well, he had his reservations for we should not wish others to think you uncaring, Lucy. In Bath we shall meet friends and choose our engagements wisely. Papa made a strict rule: there will be no balls or dances.’

‘I do not think I should care to attend a ball for the moment,’ Lucy told her truthfully. ‘I am mourning Mark in my own way. I do miss his friendship terribly and the way he had of teasing one. But I should enjoy the shops, the views and the theatre—which I think acceptable?’

‘Yes, I agree. Had the engagement taken place I could not have contemplated the visit, but in the circumstances I think it best for you, for otherwise you might sink into a decline and that I cannot have. And that wicked man may be lingering in the district. You were known to be close to Mark and he might have it in mind to harm you. It will be safer in Bath, dearest.’

‘It would not be fair to keep Jenny here in seclusion. She very much wishes to buy some new clothes.’

‘Oh, you must not mind me,’ Jenny said. ‘I could always ask a seamstress to call here—though I admit that I do enjoy gazing into the windows of expensive shops.’

Lady Dawlish nodded approvingly. ‘Of course you do, my love, and you must have had your fill of mourning these past months. Well, run along now, my dears. I must speak to Cook. I shall need to plan the menus in advance for your papa must not be neglected while we are from home, Lucy. If you need a little pin money, Jenny dear, you may look to me for it.’

‘I was reliant on my aunt for my clothes, but my lawyer has arranged for an allowance to be paid into a bank for me so I may buy a new wardrobe.’

‘I am glad that you will have some money of your own, Jenny dear. We none of us knew exactly how you had been left.’

‘I am not certain now, ma’am,’ Jenny said, glad of the chance to raise the subject. ‘But Mr Nodgrass says I shall be comfortable. He is to send on a copy of his accounts when they have been transcribed.’

‘That will be a blessing for you, my love,’ her kind friend said. ‘For myself I care not if you have a fortune or not a feather to fly with. We are so happy and grateful to have you with us at this sad time. I hope you will not think of leaving us too soon?’

‘Oh, no, ma’am. I should not dream of leaving you until things are more settled and Lucy is happy again.’

‘What a sweet girl you are, and just what Lucy needs at this time to keep her cheerful. Now I must get on for there is much to arrange...’

The girls left her busy with her household plans and went out into the gardens. They walked as far as the park and then found the dry trunk of a fallen tree where they could sit and look about them, enjoying the shade of the trees and the sound of birdsong.

* * *

It was there that the gentlemen found them some thirty minutes or more later.

‘Your mama thought you might have come this way,’ Paul said. ‘Adam and I have been making enquiries in the villages surrounding Ravenscar and Dawlish, in case anyone had noticed a stranger lurking about—someone who seemed to have no real business in the area.’

‘And have you found anyone?’ Jenny asked, because Lucy was deliberately staring away into the distance, as if she could not bear to look at Paul.

‘We heard that a stranger passed this way yesterday. His coach was remarked for it had a coat of arms, though, as the passer-by could not recall what it was, it does not help much. However, it seems to point to the rogue being a gentleman—by birth if not by nature.’

‘Yes, I see.’ Jenny nodded. ‘That would make sense, I think—for if there was a quarrel it would most likely be with someone Mark was accustomed to play cards with, do you not think?’

Jenny glanced at Adam, who was silent and frowning.

‘I think it must have been someone Mark did not know well,’ Paul said thoughtfully. ‘For some reason he was obliged to sit down with him, though what happened we shall never know.’

‘Unless Hallam comes up with some clues,’ Adam put in.

‘Can you not speak of anything else?’ Lucy asked, her nerves clearly fraying. ‘We are going to Bath very soon. At least there I shall have some pleasant conversation.’

She walked off as if in some distress. Jenny shot a look of apology at the two gentlemen.

‘Lucy cannot bear to talk of it,’ she explained. ‘I should not have asked. Excuse me, I must follow her.’

‘Jenny...’ Adam said as she began to walk after her friend. ‘I wanted to tell you that I am going down to my grandfather’s estate in Cornwall. I shall be gone some days—so when I see you again it will be in Bath.’

‘Yes, I see.’ Jenny fought to keep her smile in place. ‘We shall of course look forward to seeing you there. I dare say Lucy will be in a better humour by then.’

‘She is entitled to be angry,’ Paul said. ‘Mark should be alive and planning his wedding. When I catch that devil he will wish he’d never been born.’ He turned his horse and rode off as if pursued by all the demons in hell.

‘Paul, too, is out of sorts,’ Adam said. ‘I assure you he is not normally this touchy.’

He got down from his horse and stood looking at her. Jenny felt her spine tingle for the look in his eyes was so intense that it seemed to burn her. She felt her insides melting with longing and looked away.

‘I think no one could remain unaffected by what has happened,’ Jenny said. ‘It will be much better for Lucy when we are in Bath. Here she is reminded at every turn. People come every day to pay their respects and she is obliged to thank them and listen to their professions of sorrow. It is not what one needs at such times. I found the sympathy of others hard to bear after Papa died.’

‘Your father’s death was caused by a driving accident?’

‘It appeared so,’ Jenny frowned. ‘I have never been certain. I know he lost a large sum of money shortly before his death.’

‘You do not think he took his own life?’

‘No, that is not at all what I think.’ Jenny drew a deep breath. ‘I think something happened—something similar to what happened to Paul yesterday, but Papa was not so lucky. His neck was broken in the fall and he died instantly...so they tell me. I am led to believe he did not suffer.’

Jenny’s eyes had filled with tears. She blinked them away, brushing her cheeks with her hand.

‘Forgive me, I should not have asked.’

Adam came towards her, offering his hand. He touched her cheek, which must be pale, and her hands trembled. She allowed it for a moment and then flinched away.

His touch aroused feelings quite unsuitable to the situation. He meant only to comfort, she knew, but she trembled inwardly and wished that he would take her into his arms. It seemed that a fire had begun to rage inside her. She wanted to be held close to his chest, to feel the brush of his lips against her hair—if she were truthful, to be kissed. No, no, it was too foolish of her!

‘I thought I was quite over it,’ Jenny said, determined to remain calm and not disgrace herself by revealing her longings, ‘but my aunt and uncle were so practical. They accepted it was an accident and...’ She shook her head. If she told him what her uncle had done—selling all her father’s possessions unnecessarily—she would have to tell him that she was not the penniless companion he thought her. Her instinct was always to tell the truth, but she could not find the words to confess it—and it would not do to raise hopes of a fortune when she had no idea how much she actually had.

‘Tears for a loved one never hurt,’ Adam said and smiled down at her. His eyes seemed to caress her, then he bent his head and kissed her. It was a sweet gentle kiss that called the heart from her body and made her want to melt into him, to be his in every way.

‘Adam...’ she murmured. ‘I think...’

He seemed to recall himself and frowned. ‘Forgive me, I should not have done that. It was wrong of me. I had no right. I can never...’

‘Never...’ She looked up at him, trying to understand why he had withdrawn so suddenly when his body seemed to call to hers.

‘My situation is intolerable,’ Adam said and turned away, a nerve flicking at his temple. ‘I am hoping I may discover some way of rescuing my grandfather from his problems. The mine played out its copper seams years ago, but perhaps some other use may be found for the land. I must see what I can do, because the alternative is unthinkable.’

‘I hope you find something,’ Jenny said. ‘It must be difficult for you.’

‘Difficult is not the word I should use.’ Adam seemed to glare down at her, clearly in some distress. ‘Excuse me, I should go after Paul before he breaks his foolish neck—and you should go to Lucy. I dare say she is in tears.’

‘Yes, perhaps.’ Jenny tried not to show her hurt as he remounted his horse, hardly looking at her. He had kissed her as if he meant it, but now he’d withdrawn behind a barrier of ice. She inclined her head politely. ‘I am glad to have seen you again before we leave, sir. I wish you good fortune.’

‘I shall need it,’ he said ruefully, then turned his horse and set out after Paul at a canter.

Jenny blinked hard as he rode away. For a moment he had seemed to promise so much, but then he’d withdrawn from her. She would be foolish to let herself hope that he would offer her more than friendship. She must not expect it or let herself think of it!

Yet she had thought of it. Was she wrong to think that he liked her as much as she liked him? Or was that simply wishful thinking—a longing for the kind of happiness she’d never known?

Jenny saw Lucy some little distance ahead and ran to catch her up. As Adam had forecast she was crying, dabbing at her cheeks with a scrap of lace kerchief.

‘Paul did not mean to upset you,’ Jenny said. ‘They think only of catching that man—and of punishing him.’

‘I wish they may do so,’ Lucy said angrily. ‘Why will Paul not look at me? It is as if he blames me for what happened to his brother.’

‘No, how could he?’ Jenny was caught by her strange expression. ‘I thought you blamed him for it?’

Lucy’s voice caught on a sob. ‘Paul would never...but now he will not speak to me or look at me. If he catches me looking at him, he scowls as if he hated me.’

‘I am certain he does not,’ Jenny said and put an arm about her waist. ‘I think he is in so much pain that he scarcely knows what to think.’

‘Even when he was thrown from his horse he would not look at me,’ Lucy said. ‘We all heard the shot. We know that someone tried to hurt, perhaps to kill him—but yesterday he accused me of thinking he’d arranged the accident to deflect suspicion from him. As if I would think such a thing.’

‘Did you tell him so?’

Lucy’s cheeks flushed red. ‘He made me cross. I said that the idea was only in his mind and that only he knew what had put it there.’

‘Oh, Lucy—that does sound as if you blame him,’ Jenny said, her gaze narrowed. ‘Why did you say such a thing to him?’

‘I do not know,’ Lucy confessed tearfully. ‘It is just that everything is so horrid and my mind is in turmoil. I feel guilty because I was not in love with Mark, as everyone believed.’

‘Yes, I know, but you must not let it affect your relationships with others,’ Jenny said. ‘You like Paul. Why do you not show him that you still value his friendship?’

‘I...cannot,’ Lucy said. ‘If he would be as he was at the ball, charming and sweet...but he has changed. He is cold and bitter and angry—angry with me. I do not know what I’ve done to make him so.’

‘I think his anger is as much frustration as anything,’ Jenny said. ‘He loved his brother and at the moment he can do nothing to avenge him. That is why it is so important to them all to find the rogue. Besides, if he attempted to kill Paul, he is a dangerous man. He needs to be on his guard.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Lucy shuddered. ‘If anything happened to Paul I could not stand it—I really could not, Jenny.’

‘I am sure it will not,’ Jenny comforted, though she knew that it was possible unless Paul took more care of his safety. ‘I dare say the rogue has left the area. He must know that he is being searched for.’

‘Yes, word will have spread and people will be watching for a stranger who has no business in the area,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Now, please may we forget it and talk of something else?’

‘I am determined to read Miss Austen’s latest novel as soon as I can take it from the library,’ Jenny said. ‘Though there is no reason why I should not subscribe to my own copy. Your mama subscribes to parcels of the latest novels, does she not?’ Lucy nodded and Jenny smiled. ‘Then perhaps she will furnish me with the address of her supplier. Books are a luxury my aunt thought unnecessary. She said why buy them when it was possible to borrow—and my uncle thought both novels and poetry a waste of time. Now I can please myself and I think I shall purchase a set of Lord Byron’s works as well as Miss Austen’s—and Fanny Burney’s, too.’

‘I always borrow Mama’s and I’m sure you could too,’ Lucy said. ‘But if you wish to set up a library of your own it would be the greatest fun. We could draw up lists and discover what bindings they come in. When you have a house of your own your books might look very smart set out on the shelves if you have them covered in red or green leather.’

‘I know it is possible to buy such sets,’ Jenny said, warming to the subject, because it pleased Lucy. ‘I must enquire the price. I’ve been used to economy these past months, but there is no reason why I should not treat myself to a few pleasures.’

‘There is little more satisfying than a new book,’ Lucy said. ‘When one looks at the cover there is so much to discover, so much to explore. One never knows where the author will take one or what kind of adventures the poor heroine must endure.’ She laughed. ‘I think I should not like to be the heroine in Udolpho, though I loved reading it.’

‘Yes, so did I,’ Jenny said. ‘I had to smuggle it into my bedroom so that my aunt should not see it—but I do have my own copy of that book. It is bound in cloth, not leather, but the story is just as wonderful.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy agreed. ‘Nothing is worse than row after row of boring books in leather. They look well, but one cannot read them—but how delightful it must be to have one’s favourite books bound so. It is an indulgence, of course...’

Jenny could do nothing but agree. Lucy’s spirits had lifted and, in helping to cheer her friend, she had found some ease from her own distress.

She was looking forward to the trip to Bath, and, if Adam had gone to Cornwall, she had nothing to stay here for—but she felt the loss of his company keenly. She had seen him almost every day since that fatal day when he’d taken her up from the side of the road and she was going to miss him. Her heart raced every time she saw him approaching her and she was very much afraid that she might have fallen in love. It was ridiculous of her, of course, but she feared it might have happened that first night at Ravenscar.

If only Adam felt the same. Had his grandfather not been in sore need, she was sure her fortune would have been enough to help him improve his own estate for the benefit of their children, giving them a comfortable life together. Unfortunately, she was not sure it amounted to enough to pay the earl’s debts.

Jenny would not have grudged the money had it enabled Adam to do what was needed. She had no desire to wear ostentatious jewels and one simple carriage would be sufficient. A short stay in London in a house hired for the Season would content her and if Adam’s fortune were modest it would be enough—but he was determined to settle the earl’s debts and she was not sure it could be done.

No, she would not dwell on such things. Adam had told her he intended to visit his grandfather’s estate in the hope of improving the situation and perhaps he would. Sometimes when a mine ran out of copper it was possible to find a vein of some other precious metal, like tin or silver.

How wonderful that would be!

Jenny smiled at her own thoughts. Such things only occurred in novels. It was far more likely that the land was worthless and could not even be sold.

* * *

‘I was never more glad of someone’s company,’ Lady Dawlish said to Jenny some days later. ‘Indeed, I do not know what we should have done had you not been kind enough to come here and stay. I have never seen my poor Lucy so down and I do not know how to lift her. I am afraid that she will sink into a decline.’

‘I do not think it, ma’am,’ Jenny told her with a smile. ‘It is true that she soars from the depths to the heights and back again, but she is stronger than you may imagine. I am certain she will recover once we are in Bath. Here, everything reminds her of Mark.’

‘They were always together, even when they were little. Indeed, she and Paul were of an age and they tagged after Mark. He was always the leader, the golden god they all wanted to notice them. Until Lucy went away to finishing school I thought nothing would come of it. Then both Mark and Paul joined the army. It was when Mark was home on leave and Lucy had just returned from her school that they first became attracted to each other in that way.’

‘Yet they were not engaged immediately?’

‘I was determined that Lucy must have at least one Season. Dawlish and Ravenscar had always promoted the marriage, but I was not certain until Lucy told me that he had asked her to wait for him until that last campaign was over. Mark did not wish her to be a widow before she was hardly a wife and I agreed. I think her papa and Ravenscar would have liked a wedding sooner, but I wanted Lucy to be certain.’

‘Yes, I see. It was very sensible of you, ma’am. What should you have done had Lucy changed her mind and decided they would not suit?’

‘I should have supported her and taken her away—to Paris or the Italian lakes. Her papa would have been disappointed and Ravenscar, too—but I would not have allowed her to be pushed into a marriage she could not like. Now of course we must think of another match for her. I believe an older man might suit her, for Lucy likes to be spoiled, and I think perhaps Mark did not always dance to her tune.’

‘I met him only once in London,’ Jenny said. ‘Was he like his brother?’

‘Not at all. Mark was larger than life—one might even say arrogant at times. He was given homage and expected it, though one could not grudge him for he was a truly talented man. At riding, shooting, wrestling—any sport—he excelled. He was also clever, though his taste in reading did not extend to poetry or novels. He had a serious mind and would no doubt have taken his seat in the House one day. He laughed at Lucy for reading trash and thought she should improve her mind.’

‘But Lucy loves poetry and novels.’ Jenny looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I am not certain he was the right husband for her, ma’am.’

‘Perhaps not. I had wondered if she was beginning to realise it—and then of course he was killed. One is not certain how to behave. The Ravenscars are our particular friends, of course, and Papa thinks we should share their grief—but why should my poor girl suffer?’

‘I think it very hard for her,’ Jenny said. She knew more than Lucy’s mother, but could not betray a confidence. ‘Yet I know that she is feeling better each day.’

‘Well, we are off the day after tomorrow,’ Lady Dawlish said. ‘I think I must ask Papa to pay a courtesy visit to Ravenscar to tell them we are leaving. However, there is no need for you or Lucy to accompany him. I think it could only distress Lucy again.’

‘Yes, I believe so.’

Jenny had no desire to visit the estate, because Adam was not there. She’d heard nothing from him since he’d left the area for Cornwall and wondered how he fared. If Paul had called on them, he might have brought news, but he had not been near since that last day in the Park when he’d ridden off in a fit of temper.

Paul was suffering as much as anyone. Jenny suspected that his pain was not all due to his grief for his brother, but she had no right to speculate or to tell Lucy what she thought might be on his mind. Lucy and Paul must sort out their affairs themselves.

Was Adam finding the rich seam of tin he needed? Or would he discover that the mine was played out and there was no alternative to his problem but the marriage he wished to avoid?

* * *

‘You do not think we could blast deeper into the earth and find a new seam of copper?’ Adam asked the former mine manager. ‘I know it would cost money, but I think I could fund it—if there’s a chance.’

‘I think this part of the mine is played out,’ John Thawson said and frowned. ‘I did hear once that there might be tin in the old mine—the one the earl closed down years ago for lack of money.’

‘You’ve never seen it?’

‘No. It was one of the older miners. He had retired then, but swore on his oath that there was a rich seam of tin if your grandfather would open the old workings up again.’

‘Was the earl approached?’

‘He said he had no money for chasing a forlorn hope. I dare say he thought it just a tale made up to provide work for the men in these parts. Times have been hard since the mine closed down. There are very few still working and the work is jealously guarded. Men from one mine are not welcomed at another and fights break out if they try to undercut the wages.’

‘Yes, I see.’ Adam was thoughtful. ‘Where can I find this man—the one who saw the seam of tin?’

‘He died a few months ago. He was in his sixties and that is a good age for a man who has worked in the mines.’

‘A pity. Is there no one else who might know of the location of this seam?’

‘Horton had a daughter and a grandson. The boy is sixteen and illegitimate—a little wild, they say. I think Horton was fond of him—and now you mention it, I’ve seen them close to the old workings on more than one occasion. It is possible that the old man showed him what was there—or they may just be using the old mine as a place to store contraband. I think Jake is in with a gang of smugglers that frequent this part of the coast.’

‘I see...’ Adam smiled. ‘Well, perhaps I should speak to this young man. He may be able to help me.’

‘I wish he might, sir.’ Thawson frowned. ‘Would you truly consider opening the mine again if a new seam of either copper or tin was found?’

‘I should certainly go into it,’ Adam said. ‘For one thing work brings prosperity to the villagers—and that means they take more care of their homes and they cultivate the land better. Everything has been let go. I cannot put the estate back into any sort of order without help. Had I a fortune at my disposal I would do what I could—but the estate needs to pay for itself.’

‘Yes, of course. Folk blame the earl for what happened, but they don’t understand that no one can keeping pouring money into an empty hole in the ground.’

‘My grandfather is old and tired. He has not managed things as well as he ought, but he loves this land—and it would give him pleasure to see the people prosperous again. I shall find Jake Horton and ask him if he knows where this seam is.’

‘It might be best if you speak to him first,’ Thawson said. ‘If you went down the old shaft alone, you could be in danger. Parts of it may be flooded—and if they’re using it to store smuggled goods you might end up being murdered.’

‘Then I shall visit the Hortons at home and speak with them,’ Adam said. ‘At least there is something I can do. If there’s anything worth opening Wheal Margaret for, I would be willing to have a go. It may come to nothing, but there is always a chance.’

‘You never know with a mine, sir,’ Thawson said. ‘I’ll go down the newer workings myself and take a look. Now that I know someone is willing to open them up again, it’s worth exploring a bit further...’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Adam said. ‘Could we go today? I can call on Jake Horton this evening.’

‘Best leave it until tomorrow,’ Thawson said. ‘He will probably be out with the Gentlemen if it’s a moonless night.’

Adam nodded. ‘Aye, you’re right. But I could speak to his mother. She might sound him out on the idea—and if they need to move a few barrels I’d rather give them time to do it than cause bad feeling.’

Thawson laughed. ‘You’ll make a good master here, Captain Miller. You understand men better than your grandfather ever did—but that’s to be expected after what you’ve been through out there.’

‘War teaches you to respect your fellow men, the troopers as well as the officers,’ Adam said, a grim light in his eyes. ‘We might as well take a look at Wheal Sarah now, while it’s still daylight.’

‘Won’t be much light down there. We’ll need hard hats and lamps to see what’s what. I just hope it isn’t completely flooded.’

Chapter Eight

‘So, here we are then, Lucy,’ Lady Dawlish said, looking fondly at her daughter. ‘Tell me, can you be comfortable here, do you think?’

‘Oh, yes, Mama. Father has taken a beautiful house for us. The Crescent is one of the most fashionable areas of Bath. Jenny and I are looking forward to our walks for there is so much to see here.’

‘It is a particularly beautiful area,’ Lady Dawlish agreed. ‘Some of the beauty spots are close enough to make it possible to drive out in an afternoon and be back in time to change for dinner. We may hire an open chaise if we wish—but I dare say we shall be invited to drive out with friends. I am certain we shall find several of our acquaintance settled here for the summer. Picnics would be quite acceptable for you to attend.’

‘I hope we shall make new friends,’ Lucy said. ‘I think that many people who frequent Bath seldom visit London.’

‘Yes, indeed. I dare say a great many visitors come here for their health—but I am certain they will have young relatives with them. You may meet some young ladies and, indeed, gentlemen that you have not met before.’

‘I only wish to have friends so that I may talk and laugh,’ Lucy assured her. ‘I would not think of... It is too soon, Mama.’

‘Yes, of course, my love—but acquaintances made here may become more in time. I would not encourage you to think of marriage for at least a year, Lucy. This visit to Bath is merely the start of my plans for you. I think in the autumn we might travel to the Italian lakes, if your papa can be prised from his home—and perhaps even if he cannot. We might find some other travelling companions.’

‘I think I should like that,’ Lucy said. ‘I feel better already. At home everything seemed so grey and dull.’

‘Yes, I saw how you were feeling.’ Lady Dawlish hesitated, then, ‘Would I be right to think that you were a little unsure about the wedding, dearest?’

‘Would you think less of me if I said I had considered asking Mark to delay it? I could not be certain of my feelings for him. I loved him dearly as a friend—and he looked so handsome in his uniform when he proposed that I was swept away by emotion—but I was not certain I was in love with him. I thought it might be better to wait so that we could both be sure of our feelings, for I am not certain he was in love with me, Mama. Though I know he cared for me, I think he felt our marriage was expected and did not wish to let me down.’

‘Thank you for your confidence. I had thought it might be that—you have been feeling guilty, have you not?’

‘Yes, Mama. It was so terrible of me. I grieved for Mark, truly I did—but my heart is not broken, as it must surely have been had I been in love.’

‘I quite understand. We shall not speak of this again, dearest. Nevertheless, neither Papa or I could countenance an engagement before a year has passed. It would look very bad and we should not wish to give offence to the Ravenscar family for they are our oldest friends.’

‘I do understand, Mama,’ Lucy said and held back a sigh. ‘But you would not think me wicked if I fell in love with someone else?’

‘If you should meet someone you like very much, I should be happy, my love. We should continue to socialise so that you could meet in company, but there would be no formal agreement for twelve months.’

Lucy nodded. ‘Thank you, Mama. I feel better for our talk. May I walk out with Jenny now, please?’

‘Providing you take one of the maids with you.’ Lady Dawlish smiled. ‘Do you intend to go shopping?’

‘We have spoken of it. Jenny wishes to have some pretty gowns made and I need one or two evening gowns in grey or lilac.’

‘Yes, you must have at least one of each and perhaps a dark-blue silk,’ her mother agreed. ‘I think you need three afternoon gowns, two at least for mornings—but you will not need a ballgown. By the time we attend such an affair you will be wearing colours.’

‘I should not wish to dance just yet.’ Lucy kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘It would be disrespectful of me. I did think the world of Mark, truly I did—only not in that way. Jenny is waiting for me. I must not keep her any longer for I only came to tell you of our plans.’

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