From baby bump to marriage vows!

Rosa Rothwell knows her pregnancy is scandalous. She will do anything to protect her baby, even staging a daring escape from her family’s Italian home. Rosa has no idea what the future holds—until a handsome but infuriating stranger offers his help.

Convinced his family is cursed, Lord Hunter believes he’s far better off alone. But the pregnant debutante’s sweet nature touches him deeply. Can he confront his demons at last, and give them both a new future...as husband and wife?

‘I have a proposition for you,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘I would like you to listen to what I have to say and think before you give me an answer.’

Rosa smiled at him, but her expression turned serious as she studied him.

‘I think we should marry.’

Rosa almost choked as he said the words.

‘Don’t jest, Thomas,’ she said. ‘I know I am unmarriageable, but please don’t poke fun.’

‘I’m completely serious.’

‘Why would you want to marry me? You’re not in love with me. You barely know me.’

All very good points, but he knew enough.

‘You need to marry, and soon, or the child you carry will be illegitimate for ever.’

‘That’s not what I asked. I know why I’m in desperate need of a husband.’ Rosa grimaced. ‘But no man in his right mind would take me on.’

‘Maybe I’m not in my right mind.’

She regarded him in silence, almost warily, until he spoke again.

‘Just listen and I will explain.’

Author Note

I never thought I would write a romance in which one of the protagonists lives under the shadow of the threat of an inherited disease! It isn’t a subject that immediately lends itself to images of happiness and passion. However, complex neurological disorders are an issue very close to my heart, and when I found myself wondering what it would be like to live two hundred years ago with one of these diseases I couldn’t let the idea go.

Although not identified in the book, the disease running in Thomas Hunter’s family is Huntington’s disease—a hereditary disorder of the central nervous system. If a parent is affected, his or her children will all have a fifty per cent chance of developing the disease. This we know today, from modern clinical research, but in 1820—when genetics and theories on modes of inheritance were far into the future—a disease that ran in the family would often be thought of as a curse. There was no way of knowing if you would be affected, and when I was planning this book I couldn’t let go of the thought of the unimaginable strain that lack of knowledge would put someone under.

I have tried to be as accurate as possible in Thomas’s descriptions of the disease his father and brother died from, but as with many illnesses it affects people differently. What I hope is accurate is Thomas’s journey to accepting the uncertainty his future holds, and allowing himself a little happiness on the way.

A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante

Laura Martin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LAURA MARTIN writes historical romances with an adventurous undercurrent. When not writing she spends her time working as a doctor in Cambridgeshire, where she lives with her husband. In her spare moments Laura loves to lose herself in a book, and has been known to read from cover to cover in a single day when the story is particularly gripping. She also loves to travel—especially visiting historical sites and far-flung shores.

Books by Laura Martin

Mills & Boon Historical Romance

The Governess Tales

Governess to the Sheikh

Linked by Character

An Earl in Want of a Wife

Heiress on the Run

Stand-Alone Novels

The Pirate Hunter

Secrets Behind Locked Doors

Under a Desert Moon

A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk.

For Luke and Jack. You keep me smiling.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Rosa lifted her head from the pillow as the door opened and looked at the unappetising bowl of stew before turning her gaze to her odious cousin. He watched her as she dismissed first the dinner and then him, a cold contempt behind his eyes.

‘You should be grateful for the scraps I bring you,’ Antonio Di Mercurio sneered as he flung the bowl of brown slop on to the rickety wooden table. ‘Whores don’t deserve to eat with the rest of the family.’

‘Would it hurt you to be civil?’ Rosa replied in her broken Italian. She tried to remain aloof, but could already feel the anger threatening to take over. Her cousin had been needling her for the past four weeks, trying to provoke some kind of reaction, and Rosa knew it wouldn’t be long before he succeeded. There were only so many insults she could turn the other cheek to before retaliating.

‘Civil? Maybe you should work on being less civil. Might save the family from further shame in the future.’ Antonio laughed heartily at his joke, made the protective sign against the evil eye with his hands and turned to leave.

Rosa picked up the bowl Antonio had just set down and flung it at her malicious cousin, but he was already out of the room and the dinner splatted against the closed door. Letting out a growl of annoyance, Rosa flopped back on the bed and tried to relax. She knew she shouldn’t let Antonio upset her so much, but it was difficult being in a foreign country with people she didn’t know. The Di Mercurios might be her family on her mother’s side, but they didn’t act warm or loving. In the four weeks she’d been staying in the villa in Italy not one of them had said a single kind word towards her.

Rosa suddenly sat up straight and looked at the door. In Antonio’s haste to avoid her flying dinner he might have forgotten to lock it. She didn’t remember hearing the click or the grating of the metal key in the ancient lock. Hardly daring to hope, Rosa stood and crossed the room. She gripped the handle, wondering whether it was a trick, an unkind ruse planned by her cousin to give her the hope of freedom.

Knowing she couldn’t give up on even the slightest chance of escaping her imprisonment, Rosa pushed down on the handle and nearly cried out with happiness as the door opened. Quickly she glanced out into the corridor and saw it was deserted; the Di Mercurio family had no need to station a guard outside her door when they kept it locked all day and night.

Rosa carefully closed the door and rested her head against the rough wood. This was her one and only chance to escape. For twenty-three hours a day she was locked in this small chamber, only let out for one hour’s exercise around the grounds daily. When outside her room she was always watched closely by one of her numerous uncles or cousins, all intent on keeping her hidden from the world so she wouldn’t bring shame to their family. So now really was her only chance and she wouldn’t let the nerves that were bubbling away inside her spoil it.

Grabbing her travelling cloak, Rosa collected together the few items she felt she couldn’t leave behind and made a neat bundle. Just before leaving the room she pushed her hand under her mattress and removed the small purse of money she’d managed to keep hidden throughout her journey to Italy and subsequent imprisonment in the villa. Then, without a backwards glance at the room that had been her prison cell for the past month, Rosa darted out into the courtyard.

The garden was shrouded in an inky blackness and it took Rosa’s eyes a few minutes to adjust. Luckily she knew this part of the grounds from her daily exercise excursions from her room and as she felt her way along the villa wall an escape route began to form in her mind.

‘Don’t be like that, Maria.’ Antonio’s voice carried through the night.

Rosa stiffened, her heart pounding in her chest so loudly she thought the whole world must be able to hear.

‘I never promised this would be anything more than a few nights of fun. You’re only a maid after all.’

Rosa couldn’t hear the words of Maria’s reply, but she understood the gist of her feelings from the tone. No doubt Antonio had implied he would give the servant much more than a quick fumble. Normally Rosa would have stormed over and confronted her cousin, but tonight she had to be selfish. She couldn’t bear to be locked up for another five months, but more importantly she wouldn’t let the Di Mercurios snatch her baby away and send it to live with some other family. Going forward, Rosa would have to be selfish, it wasn’t just her own future she was fighting for now.

Creeping softly through the night, Rosa moved further away from the villa, making sure she kept the perimeter wall to her right. She was heading for a huge lemon tree at the southernmost corner of the grounds. There she was confident she could make it over the wall and to freedom, and even the most vigilant of her family wouldn’t be able to see her climbing the tree that far from the house.

With the lemon tree looming above her Rosa checked she hadn’t been followed before testing out the branches. There was no movement from the villa, even Antonio and his disappointed maid had fallen quiet and Rosa concluded they must have returned inside.

Rosa had been climbing trees since she was a little girl, but concern for the baby inside her made her pause and evaluate for a moment longer. Knowing she had no choice, she hiked up her skirt and began to climb. Within two minutes she was sitting on the stone wall, regarding the drop on the other side. It was further down than on the villa side of the wall, due to a sloping of the land, maybe six or seven feet. There was a rough path running alongside the wall with nothing to cushion her drop. She could probably jump without doing herself too big an injury, but the tiny life inside her was another matter. Maybe if she lowered herself slowly whilst holding on to the top of the wall she would be safe.

She was still contemplating her options as she heard movement coming along the path. Footsteps and a low whistling became gradually louder as Rosa pressed herself into the stone and wondered what to do. At this height whoever was approaching might not see her, but if they happened to look up for any reason her escape attempt would be ruined.

The whistling got louder and Rosa knew there was nothing for it but to climb back over the wall until the man had passed. It went against every instinct to return to the grounds of her prison, but she kept telling herself it was only temporary. In a few minutes she would be back on top of the wall and on her way to freedom.

As she swung her legs over she felt herself toppling slightly. With the extra weight she was now carrying around her middle her equilibrium was off just slightly and as she windmilled her arms to try to regain her balance Rosa knew it wasn’t going to be enough. With a scream she fell backwards, wrapping her arms protectively around her belly and praying for a miracle.

* * *

Thomas felt his breath knocked from his lungs as something careened into him from above. One moment he’d been walking along lost in thought and the next he was flattened, unable to move.

‘Oooh...’ a soft voice moaned on top of him.

Thomas reached up and his hand met soft fabric. If he wasn’t much mistaken there was a woman lying on top of him, but he had no idea where she had come from.

‘Excuse me,’ he said in Italian eventually when the woman made no attempt to move. He almost laughed at the stiff formality of the words—even after three years of living abroad you still couldn’t remove his innate good manners.

There was some wriggling, then fingers digging into his ribcage as she manoeuvred herself upright. Thomas watched in a daze as the young woman ran her hands over her body as if checking for bumps and bruises, caressing her abdomen through the material of her dress.

‘Are you hurt?’ she asked eventually, once Thomas could see she was satisfied she had not injured herself in any obvious way. She spoke in Italian, but there was an accent that made him wonder if she was not native to this part of the world.

Testing out his theory, Thomas replied in English, ‘Just a little winded.’

‘You’re English.’

He could hear the note of fear in her voice and noticed how she begun to lean away from him as if he were about to do her harm.

‘Yes,’ he replied tersely. ‘Would you mind letting me up?’

‘Oh,’ the young woman said, mortification in her voice as she looked down and realised she was still straddling him. Quickly she stood, but as she transferred her weight to her left foot she cried out in pain. From his position on the ground Thomas saw her stumble and then come lurching back towards him. This time it was her elbow that caught him in the stomach and a slender knee in the groin area. For a moment Thomas felt the whole world blur with pain before he was back on the dusty country road with a woman on top of him.

‘I’m sorry,’ the young woman mumbled, too focused on her own pain to realise the extent of the damage she had inflicted on him.

Thomas just grunted, lying still until the ache had subsided, before gripping the young woman around the waist and firmly setting her on the road beside him.

Before deciding what to do next, he regarded the woman in front of him for a few moments. She was dusty and dishevelled, and at the moment her face was screwed up with pain, but if Thomas wasn’t much mistaken this was no common thief or intruder trying to escape the Di Mercurio property. She was too well dressed, her bearing and her speech too polished.

‘Why did you jump off the wall?’ Thomas asked.

Immediately he saw the young woman bristle.

‘I didn’t jump. I fell.’

‘Let me rephrase the question. Why were you climbing over the wall in the first place?’

‘That is none of your concern,’ she said primly.

Thomas watched her for a few seconds and then shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn’t about to browbeat the information from her, but she would tell him.

‘Would you like me to escort you back to the Di Mercurio villa, or fetch someone to come and get you?’ he asked lightly.

He actually saw the pallor bloom on her face as the blood drained away.

‘Please do not concern yourself,’ she said. ‘I’ll just get on my way and you can continue with your evening.’

‘You will need my help...’ he motioned to her left ankle ‘... I’d wager you won’t get far on your own.’

‘Truly, please do not let me detain you further,’ she said with exaggerated politeness. Thomas could see he was beginning to irk her, but found himself unable to stop with his goading. He was enjoying this interaction more than he had any for months now.

He looked on with interest as she tottered to her feet, grimaced and bit down forcibly on her lower lip, presumably to stop her crying out in pain as she tried to put weight on her left foot. Thomas’s concern turned to amusement as she began hopping down the road and he had to stop himself from laughing out loud.

‘I don’t think anyone has ever gone to such lengths to avoid my company before,’ he mused loudly as he pushed himself upright and began to stroll along beside her.

She didn’t even spare him a look, just hopped resolutely onwards.

‘I hope you didn’t need to be somewhere in a hurry. You’re rather slow at hopping.’ This did earn him a glance, but no conversation.

Suddenly she stopped, changed direction and hopped unsteadily to the side of the road. Thomas watched with interest as she hefted a heavy fallen branch from the ground and tested it as a makeshift crutch. It didn’t look that helpful.

‘So let me guess,’ he said as she staggered onwards. ‘You’re a disgraced maid and you stole the family silver.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

Two more steps, then she rested, looking back over her shoulder and appearing disappointed with how little progress they’d made.

‘You’re being forced to marry one of the unpleasant Di Mercurio boys and you’re fleeing on the eve of the wedding.’

‘That would be a very good reason to run,’ the young woman muttered under her breath.

‘I’ve got it,’ Thomas exclaimed. ‘They were going to offer you up as a ritual sacrifice to the devil.’

‘Why are you following me?’ she demanded.

‘I thought you might need some assistance.’

She stared at him with wide eyes and motioned to the nearly useless crutch. ‘You’re not providing any assistance so will you just leave me alone.’

‘I could provide you with assistance,’ Thomas said with a charming smile, ‘If you ask nicely. And tell me what you were doing climbing over the wall.’

She had a stubborn streak running through her, Thomas mused as she limped a few more paces with her head held high before relenting.

‘I was being held prisoner. Now, please will you help me?’

‘Well, that wasn’t the most gracious of pleas, but a gentleman can overlook these things.’ Thomas scooped her up into his arms, hiding a grin at her squeal of surprise and the initial stiffness of her body. ‘Where to, my lady?’

No reply was forthcoming and Thomas could see the thoughts tumbling through her head. For some reason she had felt she was being held prisoner by the well-to-do Di Mercurios and had manufactured her escape, but he would wager his entire inheritance that she hadn’t really planned beyond getting over the wall.

‘Maybe to the residence of the local magistrate so you could report your imprisonment?’ Thomas suggested, suppressing a smile as she tensed. ‘Or we could go straight to the governatore, the man in charge, seeing as they are such an influential family in the region.’

Still no reply from the woman in his arms.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Miss Rosa Rothwell.’

‘Well, Rosa,’ he said, enjoying her scowl of indignation at his use of the overfamiliar form of address, ‘it is decision time. What’s the plan?’

‘I would be grateful if you would take me to a local pensione,’ she said decisively.

‘I don’t like to criticise a well-thought-out plan, but won’t the village guest house be the first place the Di Mercurios look for their runaway?’

‘I will ask the owner to be discreet.’

‘It will all come down to who has the bigger purse, you or the wealthiest landowners around the lake.’

Rosa fell quiet again and Thomas adjusted his grip on the pensive young woman in his arms.

‘Are you sure you can’t sort this feud out with the Di Mercurios?’ Thomas asked softly, the levity gone from his voice. ‘It would be the easiest way.’

‘No.’ The force behind that one short word told Thomas all he needed to know about Rosa’s predicament. She was in trouble, real trouble, and it wasn’t going to be sorted with an apology and a friendly handshake. He couldn’t imagine the Di Mercurios had actually kept Rosa locked up, they were a respected and important family, but he was well aware he didn’t know the details. ‘I need to get away from here,’ Rosa said quietly. ‘I need to get back to England.’

Thomas quickened his pace along the dusty road and felt Rosa squirm in his arms.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘I’m renting a villa about a mile from here,’ Thomas said. ‘You will stay tonight and arrangements can be made in the morning.’

‘I’m not sure that is an appropriate—’

‘You don’t really have a choice,’ Thomas interrupted her. ‘It’s this or the Di Mercurios finding you within the hour.’

‘I am a young woman of a good family,’ Rosa said stiffly.

‘Trust me, there is nothing further from my mind than ravishing you. You’ll be perfectly safe.’

Not that she wasn’t pretty enough, in a wholesome, innocent sort of way, but Thomas had not been tempted in a long time and he wasn’t going to let this dishevelled young woman be the reason he stepped off his predestined path.

Chapter Two

Thomas set her down gently on a wooden chair positioned on the terrace to the rear of his rented villa. Rosa was momentarily mesmerised by the view over the lake to the mountains beyond, the inky blackness of the water giving way to the solid outlines of the snowy peaks silhouetted against the starry sky. Although she’d been in Italy for a month she hadn’t seen past the walls of the Di Mercurio villa since her arrival.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Thomas commented as he caught her looking at the view.

She regarded her host for a few moments, trying to decide what she thought of him. He was confident and arrogant, a man used to getting his own way. She had bristled earlier when he’d made the decisions about her immediate future without really consulting her, but she’d bitten her tongue because...well, because she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

‘Who are you?’ Rosa asked as she took in the expensive furniture and no doubt expensive view.

‘Hunter. Lord Thomas Hunter. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Rosa Rothwell.’ Her name sounded seductive on his tongue.

‘Do you live alone here?’ Rosa asked.

‘Don’t worry,’ Thomas said, flashing her a lazy grin, ‘I meant what I said, your virtue is safe.’

Rosa instinctively laid a hand on top of her lower abdomen, stroking the fabric of her dress and thinking of the growing life that was to be her ruin. She’d lost her virtue long ago, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hold some moral values. Staying in a house alone with a single, rather attractive gentleman was certainly on the list of Things a Young Lady Must Never Do that her mother had often recited to her when she was younger. Nevertheless, here she was, without any other option and ready to put her fate and her already sullied virtue into the hands of Lord Thomas Hunter. Her mother would be appalled.

Lord Hunter disappeared for a few minutes before re-emerging from the villa holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. Rosa watched as he pulled out the cork and filled both glasses, before pushing one towards her.

‘So, tell me, whatever have you done to make the Di Mercurios lock you away?’ He held up a hand as he took a mouthful of wine. ‘No, no, no. Let me guess. It’s more fun that way.’

‘It’s a private matter,’ Rosa said, watching as Hunter leaned back in his chair and swung both feet on to the table.

‘Did you steal something?’

Rosa refused to be drawn in and focused instead on her wine glass.

‘Something more scandalous, then,’ Hunter mused. ‘Did you insult one of the old women, the ones that look like mean English Bulldogs?’

‘Those old women are my grandmother and great-aunt.’

‘Oh, I am sorry. Well, maybe you won’t be quite so wrinkly when you’re older. All is not lost.’ He paused, then pushed on, ‘So they’re family, are they? The plot thickens.’

Rosa took a sip of wine and felt the warmth spreading out from the throat and through her body. It was warming and delicious and already a little intoxicating.

‘I was sent here in disgrace,’ she said eventually.

‘Your family sent you all the way to Italy? You must have done something pretty unsavoury for that amount of distance to be required.’

She supposed getting pregnant before marriage was pretty disgraceful, her mother at least had enough to say on the matter. Rosa was a disgusting harlot, an ungrateful wretch and as bad as a common streetwalker. The strange thing was, despite having been brought up with her mother’s strict set of moral values, Rosa didn’t feel disgusting or unsavoury, and she couldn’t summon anything but warmth for the small life blossoming inside her.

Uninvited tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of the venom in her mother’s voice as she’d told her she never wanted to see Rosa, or her child, ever again. They’d always had a difficult relationship, but the finality of her mother’s goodbye had hurt Rosa more than she would have imagined.

What had hurt even more had been the look of shock on her father’s face when Rosa had admitted her pregnancy. She and her father had always shared a close and loving relationship. It was her father, not her mother, who had played with her as a child, who often would call her into his study so they could spend hours discussing books. So when he’d been unable to rally on hearing the news that his only daughter was expecting a child out of wedlock Rosa had felt her heart rip in two.

Dipping her head, Rosa quickly blinked away the tears. She would not cry in front of a stranger, not about something that could not be changed.

‘I suppose it was unsavoury,’ she said, smiling sadly.

‘The Di Mercurios were meant to look after you?’ Hunter asked and Rosa was glad of his change of direction.

Rosa shrugged. She didn’t know what their instructions had been, but as soon as she had arrived it had been made clear she was not a welcomed guest.

‘They locked me in my room for a month.’

‘And fed you gruel, no doubt.’

She looked at him sharply, wondering if he was mocking her, but saw the joviality that had filled his eyes earlier had gone.

‘Well, sometimes they treated me to stew and a stale piece of bread.’

‘How generous. No wonder you wanted to escape.’

Rosa looked past her host, out over the dark water and to the night beyond and knew she would have put up with the cruelty if it hadn’t been for the threat of losing her child. On one of her daily walks around the grounds a maid had sidled up to her and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, signorina, the family they have chosen are kind and loving. Your little one will be well looked after.’

The girl had risked a beating for just talking to her and the words had meant to be reassuring, but Rosa had felt her heart fill with dread and known there and then she needed to escape. No one would take her child from her. She would fight with every ounce of strength and determination in her body and nothing would keep them apart.

‘So what is the plan, Rosa Rothwell?’ Hunter asked.

‘I will seek passage to England.’

‘Back to the family that sent you here?’

Rosa grimaced. She had no doubt her mother would pack her straight back to Italy the moment she turned up on the doorstep.

‘I have a good friend who will take me in, I just need to get to her.’

Rosa was aware of Hunter’s eyes scrutinising her. He did it brazenly, as if he didn’t even consider it would make her uncomfortable, or he wasn’t concerned if he did. Roaming eyes taking in her every movement, her every expression, making her feel exposed and as if he knew all of her secrets.

‘Time for bed,’ Hunter said abruptly, standing and draining the dregs of wine from his glass.

Rosa was just about to say she would stay on the terrace a while longer when Hunter’s strong arms whisked her up from her seat and carried her over the threshold into the villa.

‘What are you doing?’ Rosa asked indignantly.

‘Taking you to bed.’

‘Put me down.’

He ignored her, manoeuvring round the furniture in a plushly decorated living room before kicking open the door to a bedroom. Quickly he strode into the room and deposited her on the rather inviting four-poster bed.

‘I might not want to go to sleep,’ Rosa said.

Hunter shrugged. ‘You’re here now.’

Rosa clenched her jaw to stop the flow of uncomplimentary phrases that were trying to escape.

‘Only because...’ Rosa began, then stared in surprise as Hunter left the room, closing the door behind him. It was difficult to have an argument with a man who refused to listen half the time.

Rosa nearly struggled to her feet, thinking she would hop back out on to the terrace just to show she couldn’t be ordered around and sent to bed like a child, but her body was already sinking into the soft mattress and freshly laundered sheets. Tomorrow she would stand up to Lord Hunter, tomorrow she would thank him for his assistance but firmly insist she go her own way from now on. Tonight she was going to enjoy the comforts of Lord Hunter’s guest room and rather welcoming bed.

Chapter Three

Thomas tossed and turned, throwing the light sheet from his bed with a growl of frustration. It was nearly dawn yet he hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours and now he felt groggy and unsettled.

Reaching out to the small table beside his bed he picked up the well-read letter, the real reason for his disturbed night. Every time he read the now-familiar words his conscience collided with his more selfish needs and he came away uncertain as to what course of action to take. And if there was one thing Thomas didn’t like it was uncertainty. With a sigh he sat up in bed and started to read again, wondering if he was just punishing himself or hoping for divine inspiration, a new point of view, knowing the words and the pleas would still be the same as all the other times he’d read it.

My darling son,

I hope you are well and are finding what you need to soothe your soul on your travels. It has been three years and eight months since I last set eyes on you—one thousand three hundred and forty-five days since you left. You must know I don’t blame you for leaving—I actively encouraged you to go—but I miss you every minute of every day that you are gone.

I am keeping as well as can be expected. My friends ask when I will come out of mourning...when I will start to move on. They don’t understand what it is like to lose a husband and a son. I don’t think anyone does, apart from you.

Ever since you left I have tried to be patient, tried to allow you to grieve and come to terms with the uncertain future in your own way. You know I have never pressured you to return, never pushed your responsibilities or the estate’s need for a master. I truly hoped you would find peace on your travels, revel in new experiences and return to me with a renewed passion for life, but three years and eight months is a long time to wait and now I want my son home.

I’m lonely, Thomas. I’m surrounded by friends, by extended family, by servants I have known for half my life, but without you it all seems empty. So I have decided to be selfish. I know you have lost a father and a brother, and I know you’ve needed to come to terms with a possibly cruel and difficult future, but now I ask that you think of me.

Come home to me. Fill the house with laughter once again. Allow yourself to think about the future, to hope. A wife and child might be too much to ask, I know that, but please consider returning home and taking up your birthright.

I live in hope that I might embrace you in my arms one day soon.

Your loving mother

He wanted to put the letter out of his mind, to forget the hurt and loneliness that must have triggered his mother to write in this way after allowing him to fulfil his own wanderlust for nearly four years without a word of protest. She had been the one who’d encouraged him to leave in the first place, who’d urged him to travel and experience a bit of the world so he would have no regrets about his own life. Thomas knew soon he would have to return to England, return to the memories and the half-empty family home. He was not cold-hearted enough to refuse a direct plea from his mother.

A swim, that was what he needed, a bracing and refreshing start to the new day. Maybe then he could find it in himself to start planning the long journey back home. Thomas jumped out of bed, grabbed a towel and tucked it loosely around his waist. He padded barefoot through the villa, resolutely not looking at the closed door to the guest room, and out on to the terrace. Even though the sun’s rays were just beginning to filter over the horizon Thomas could already feel the heat in the air. It would be another scorching day, the type that sometimes made him long for the cool breezes and cloudy skies of England.

It only took him thirty seconds to reach the lake, two more to stretch and brace himself for the icy shock of the water and then he dropped his towel to the ground and dived in. The blackness consumed him immediately and as Thomas glided deeper he could barely make out the shape of his hands a few inches in front of his face. The water skimmed over his skin, washing away the remnants of the restless night and invigorating him for a new day. Forty seconds in and his lungs began burning, but still he glided deeper. Fifty seconds and he felt the tremor in his muscles from lack of air. Sixty seconds and little grey spots began to appear before his eyes. One more pull of his arms, and then another, the ultimate test of his mind’s control over his body. Only when his head began to spin did Thomas relent and kick powerfully to the surface, breaking free of the water and taking in huge gulps of air.

He floated on his back for a while, allowing his body to recover and his breathing to return to normal. As the sun started to rise over the hills and reflect off the water’s surface Thomas began to swim. He took long, leisurely strokes, propelling himself through the water at a moderate speed and focusing on the horizon.

This was his favourite time of day, whilst he was powering through the water he could plan and reflect without any distractions. It was just him, the early morning air and the silent lake.

He swam for about fifteen minutes before turning back, the villa now the size of a model house on the banks of the lake. It was still peaceful, but there were signs of life stirring around the edge of the lake. A farmer’s cart trundled along the dusty track, kicking up a plume of dirt. A young boy chased an eager dog down to the water’s edge and further away to his left the sleepy village was beginning to show signs of activity.

As Thomas reached the edge of the lake he paused, turning to look out over the murky blue water before pulling himself up the old wooden ladder on to the shore.

* * *

It was getting light when Rosa awoke and for a few moments she allowed herself to lie in bed and watch the soft light of dawn streaming in through the windows. She wasn’t a natural early riser—at home she would often indulge in breakfast in bed late in the morning—but these last couple of months she had found herself waking early with an entrenched sensation of nausea that could only be cured by a cold glass of water and something to eat.

Rosa knew she was lucky, many women at her stage of pregnancy spent their days vomiting and confined to their beds. A little early morning nausea was not something that stopped her from getting on with her day at least.

Rising slowly, Rosa straightened her dress, aware of the creases from where she’d slept fully clothed, and patted the loose strands of hair into place. She took a moment to examine her ankle, which had swollen overnight and had a purple hue to the stretched skin. Even placing it lightly on the floor made her wince in pain, but she gritted her teeth and managed to hobble to the door, leaning heavily on furniture as she went.

Outside her bedroom the villa was quiet and Rosa sensed she was alone. Of course Lord Hunter would be an early riser, he was just the type to be cheery at an ungodly time in the morning. Rosa was just about to admit defeat and flop into a chair when she spotted an ornate walking cane leaning up against the wall next to her bedroom door. Hunter must have put it there after he’d bid her goodnight, ready for her to use this morning.

Grasping the carved knob, Rosa tested the cane out, finding she could walk a little better with the extra balance it gave her, although the pain was still there. She would have to remember to thank Lord Hunter for his kindness.

Not wanting to rummage through his cupboards, but desperate for something to eat, Rosa ventured outside on to the terrace. She recalled from the night before the large orange tree overhanging the seating area and her empty stomach growled at the thought of a juicy orange to start the day.

Rosa had to stretch to reach even the lowest branch, but her efforts were rewarded when she began to peel a ripe and fragrant orange and popped the first segment into her mouth. Chewing slowly, she savoured the sweet juice, licking the remnants off her fingers before biting into a second segment. She had to stop herself from wolfing the whole orange down in a few seconds as she peeled the remainder of the skin from the flesh it was so delicious, but somehow she managed to resist the urge. With the first orange gone Rosa stretched up and plucked a second from the branches of the orange tree, grasped hold of her cane again and limped to the edge of the terrace.

As she looked out over the lake, admiring how the sun reflected off the smooth surface making the water look blessed by the gods, her eyes came to rest on the small figure propelling himself towards the villa. He was swimming quickly, but in a way that looked as though it required hardly any effort on his part. As he got closer Rosa realised it was her host, Lord Hunter. She almost laughed—she’d known he would be a morning person, he probably swam a mile first thing every morning whilst she would normally be languishing in bed.

Rosa watched as he approached the shore, mesmerised by the rhythmic movement of his arms and the effortless way he glided through the water. She’d felt the hard muscles of his arms and chest when he’d picked her up yesterday and wondered if this was how he stayed quite so toned.

With a final pull of his arms Hunter reached the small wooden jetty that jutted out from the grounds of the property. Rosa could see his shoulders bobbing up and down as he gripped the ladder and began to pull himself out.

Time slowed and Rosa found she couldn’t look away. Inch by inch Hunter’s body rose from the water, his chest, his abdomen, the water pouring off him and leaving his skin shimmering. Rosa felt the heat begin to rise from her core as her eyes locked on to Hunter’s naked form. Only when he pulled himself fully out of the water did Rosa realise he wasn’t wearing anything at all, but still she couldn’t look away. He stood, indifferent to his nakedness, seemingly unconcerned that anyone might see him, and brushed the water from his skin before picking up a towel and wrapping it around his waist.

Only then did he glance up to the terrace. Rosa knew the moment he saw her, the moment he realised she must have been watching him the entire time. For a fraction of a second his whole body went still, like a wolf catching sight of its prey, then he raised a hand and waved cheerily at her.

She wished she could just disappear, that an earthquake would open up the ground underneath her and she could fall inside. He would think that she had been watching him. Well, she had been watching him, but not purposefully. She wasn’t to know he swam naked, but now she looked like a shameless voyeur.

‘Good morning,’ Hunter said with a smile as he approached the terrace.

‘Good morning,’ Rosa managed to mumble, trying to look anywhere but the expanse of exposed skin at her eye level. He was tanned, wonderfully so, his skin a deep bronze hinting to the length of time he’d spent in warm climes.

‘Did you sleep well?’

How could he ask such a mundane and ordinary question when he was standing there half-naked in front of her?

Forcing herself to look up and meet his eye, Rosa smiled.

‘Very well, thank you.’

Her cheeks were burning so much it felt as though she’d just stepped out of a blacksmith’s forge and her heart was beating so loudly she was sure it could be heard for miles, but if Hunter refused to be embarrassed by his lack of clothing then she would not let her discomfort show.

‘Isn’t the view beautiful first thing in the morning?’

Unbidden, her eyes flicked down to where the towel was tucked around his waist and Rosa heard him utter a low chuckle.

‘I find the early morning light to be the most flattering,’ Rosa said, watching as Hunter’s grin widened.

‘Everything looks even better from the middle of the lake,’ he said, moving a step closer, ‘You should join me next time. A swim can really get the blood pumping at this time of day.’

Rosa was sure he knew exactly what he was doing, no young woman from a good family would feel comfortable standing here talking about the weather and the view with a man she’d just seen emerge naked from the lake, but Hunter was pushing her, seeing how much it would take to make her flee in embarrassment or swoon. Well, she’d never swooned in her life and a little bit of naked flesh wasn’t about to make her run. Even if it was particularly smooth and sculpted flesh.

‘I can think of better ways to exert myself so early in the morning,’ she said with a sweet smile. Without glancing at his face Rosa limped back over to the orange tree and plucked another of the round fruit from the branches. Carefully she began to peel it, worked a segment free and only when she was about to pop it between her lips did she look up and meet Hunter’s eye. ‘Can’t you?’

It was, oh, so satisfying to see him lost for words, his eyes glued on the orange segment as it passed her lips. Allowing herself a small, triumphant smile, Rosa turned and headed back to the villa, her walk of victory only slightly spoiled by the clicking of the cane on the tiles.

Chapter Four

‘Last night you were telling me about the disgrace that had your family disowning you,’ Thomas said as he helped Rosa up into the curricle.

‘No,’ Rosa said pointedly, ‘I wasn’t.’

‘Well, we’ve got an hour’s ride to the village of Malcesine, and it will be a terribly dull journey if you sit in silence the whole way.’

Thomas had suggested a day trip to the next sizeable village around the lake when Rosa had talked about seeking a passage back to England. The Di Mercurios would no doubt be searching for their runaway prisoner and there was no point in making it easy for them. In Malcesine they would find the date and time of the next coach leaving for one of the port cities where Rosa would be able to buy a fare home.

‘You could tell me what you’re doing hiding away in Italy,’ Rosa suggested with that sweet smile she used when she was determined to get her own way.

‘What if we play a game?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘We each get three questions. The other has to answer truthfully and fully.’

‘I get to go first?’ Rosa asked.

‘Ask away.’

She sat in silence for a while, watching the countryside passing by and pressing her lips together as she thought. Thomas glanced at her every now and again. Ever since he’d caught her looking at him as he emerged from the lake he’d felt a spark of excitement, a slowly building intrigue at the woman hiding beneath the composed façade. He felt he needed to be close to her, to touch her, to find out what was really going on behind those calm, cool eyes. It wasn’t often Thomas met a woman he could fully engage with intellectually. So many of the debutantes his mother had introduced him to before he’d fled England had seemed to want to appear less intelligent than they actually were, wittering on about the weather or the latest fashion. Admittedly he didn’t know Rosa well, but there was something more to her—something bold, something that refused to back down.

‘Why do you live in Italy?’ Rosa asked eventually.

‘I like it here.’

She shook her head and actually wagged an admonishing finger at him like some disapproving elderly aunt. ‘You’re breaking the rules,’ she said. ‘You said we had to answer truthfully and fully. Why do you live in Italy?’

Thomas broke out into a grin. ‘You caught me. I will try to be more honest,’ he said, trying out a contrite expression and finding it didn’t sit well on his face.

The intensity of her gaze was a little unnerving as she waited for him to speak.

‘The past four years I have travelled as far east as India, as far south as Turkey, stopping at various places for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months. I’ve been here beside the lake for six months, the longest I’ve stayed anywhere. I suppose I feel at peace here, waking up to such beauty every day is humbling. It makes you admit how insignificant your problems are.’

Although he had never set out to be quite so honest Thomas realised it was the truth. He could have settled anywhere, but he’d chosen Lake Garda to make his home at least for a while.

‘Why do you feel the need to move around so much?’

‘Is that question number two?’

Rosa nodded.

‘When I first left England I didn’t know what I wanted to see, I just knew there was a whole world out there waiting for me to discover it. I marvelled at the ancient temples in Greece, climbed an active volcano in Italy, was stalked by a tiger in the jungles of India and spent three glorious weeks floating adrift in a rickety old boat in the Black Sea.’ He paused to see if Rosa looked as though she believed him. It was partly the truth, but it did not explain his need to run from his fate, a strange compulsion to keep moving, as if staying in one place too long might let the disease he was so afraid of catch up with him. ‘Once I started discovering new places I was like a laudanum addict, I needed to see more, experience more. It was like an illness—if I didn’t keep moving on I would become restless and anxious.’

‘So why have you stopped now?’

Thomas pulled on the reins to slow the horses as they rounded a tight bend and considered Rosa’s question. In truth he wasn’t quite sure. The answer he’d given earlier, talking about the humbling beauty of Lake Garda, was true, but he’d visited many beautiful places in the past few years. He wasn’t sure what had made him slow, what had made him start thinking of home, yearning for the green fields and grey skies and all the places he had known as a child.

He thought of the letter from his mother, asking him to return, and knew that even without her plea it wouldn’t have been that long before he boarded a ship and sailed for England. Something was pulling him home, but he wasn’t sure what.

‘I suppose everyone needs a rest now and again.’

‘You’re being flippant again,’ Rosa challenged him.

‘Sorry. I suppose I don’t know. For a while I grew tired of new places, not knowing anyone, never being sure of where I would rest my head from one day to the next.’

‘So will you stay here, in Italy?’

Thomas smiled and shook his head. ‘That’s question number four, Miss Rothwell. You’ve had your turn, now it’s mine.’

Rosa stiffened as if actually nervous about what he would ask, but nodded for him to continue.

‘How many months pregnant are you?’ He hadn’t meant to be quite so blunt and as the shock and hurt flashed across her eyes he cursed his clumsy handling of the question.

‘What makes you think I’m pregnant?’

‘Look how you’re sitting,’ Thomas said softly.

Rosa glanced down and grimaced as she realised one hand rested protectively against her lower abdomen.

‘I suppose it’s natural, a mother’s instinct,’ Thomas said. ‘You’ve had a hand on your abdomen throughout most of the morning, and every so often you will look down fondly when you think I’m not paying attention.’

She nodded, mutely. They continued in silence for nearly ten minutes before Rosa spoke again.

‘Four months, nearly to the day.’

Thomas did a few quick sums in his head, and realised things didn’t quite add up.

‘And that was why you were sent away in disgrace? You must have known pretty early on that you were pregnant.’

It wasn’t a subject Thomas was well schooled in, but he did have a vague idea that most women weren’t sure until they were about three or four months along in their pregnancy.

‘I knew as soon as I missed my courses, by that time I was only about a month gone. I spoke to the father a week later, confessed to my mother the same evening and the next day I was packed off to Italy.’

That explained the timings a little more.

‘What if you were wrong?’

Rosa shrugged. ‘I suppose my mother thought it easier to recall me if it turned out I wasn’t pregnant than to explain an ever-growing bump.’

Thomas detected a note of bitterness alongside the sadness and wondered if the relationship between mother and daughter was a little strained.

‘It took five weeks by boat, a couple more overland, and then the Di Mercurios kept me locked away for a month. That makes four months.’ She said it in a matter-of-fact voice that belied the pain on her face.

‘What about the father?’ Thomas asked, wondering if that was who she was running home to.

Rosa gave a bitter, short bark of a laugh and shook her head instead of answering.

‘What do you plan to do, Rosa?’ he asked, aware that this game of theirs had become very serious very quickly.

‘Stop the horses,’ Rosa said sharply.

Thomas glanced at her in puzzlement.

‘Stop. The. Horses.’

He pulled on the reins, slowing the horses down to a gentle walk before coming to a complete stop. As soon as the curricle had stopped moving Rosa slid down, grabbed her cane and began to limp away. Thomas frowned, wondering exactly what it was about his question that had caused so much offence.

‘Rosa,’ he called, jumping down after her and jogging to catch up.

‘Leave me alone.’

Thomas realised she was crying and slowed as he approached her.

‘I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you.’

She shook her head, turning her back to him.

He stood undecided for a moment, unsure whether to step back and give her space or take her into his arms and comfort her.

‘Shh...’ he whispered as he wrapped her in his arms and gently pulled her head to rest on his shoulder.

He felt the sobs rack her body, her shoulders heaving as the tears ran down her cheeks and soaked through his shirt.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.

Thomas didn’t reply, instead tightening his hold on her, running a hand over her raven-black hair and murmuring soothing noises.

‘Come back to the curricle,’ he said as her sobs died down.

‘I don’t know—’ she started to say, but Thomas interrupted her with a shake of his head.

‘I’m not a man who is used to having his requests refused,’ he said in an overly serious tone and felt supremely satisfied when Rosa broke into a smile. It was small and uncertain, but a smile all the same.

Giving her his arm to lean upon, Thomas led her back, placed his arms around her waist and lifted her easily back into the seat.

‘No running off whilst I climb up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Rosa said as he took his place beside her. ‘I never cry.’

‘Half a day in my company and already you’re breaking habits of a lifetime.’

‘It’s just so frustrating, so completely unfair. Every person who has found out about my predicament has expected me to give my child up. To be thankful for the suggestion that a nice family could raise my baby and no one will ever know.’

The thought had crossed his mind, and although that hadn’t been the question he’d asked, it had been the answer he’d been expecting.

‘So what are you going to do?’

Rosa took a deep breath, raised her chin and straightened her back. ‘I will raise my child myself.’

It was an admirable idea, but not an easy one to fulfil.

As soon as the words had passed her lips Rosa deflated again, her chin dropping closer to her chest and her eyes focused on the ground beneath them as if searching for answers there.

Thomas thought of all the arguments against her plans, thought of all the struggles she would face raising a child alone. It wasn’t so much her practical ability to care for and love a child he doubted, or the fact that she would be raising it without a father—many women raised large families after they were widowed. No, the struggle for Rosa would be how she would be shunned and hounded from society. Right now she might not think she cared about other ladies gossiping and pointing, snubbing her in the street and not inviting her to any of the social events of the year, but Thomas knew too well how lonely solitude could be. It would be a miserable existence.

‘I know,’ Rosa said softly. ‘You don’t have to tell me how difficult it will be. I will be an outcast, even my child might be an outcast, but I believe that love can make up for all of that. And I will love this baby much more than any family paid to take him or her.’

He nodded mutely. Who was he to disagree with her, his choices hadn’t exactly been well thought out or well reasoned these past few years. After his father’s and brother’s deaths he’d more or less fled the country. He’d been halfway to France before he’d even stopped and thought about his decisions. If Rosa wanted to return to England to find a way to raise her child, then he had no business judging her.

* * *

Rosa wondered if he was judging her and then realised she didn’t much care. It was true, she had thought of all the drawbacks to raising her child herself, but every single negative point was outweighed by the overwhelming love she already felt for the small life inside her.

‘Do you think you’ll ever go back?’ Rosa asked, trying to change the focus of their conversation back to Lord Hunter.

‘To England?’ For a few moments he looked off into the distance as if he were deep in thought. ‘I have a mother,’ he said eventually.

Rosa laughed, she couldn’t help herself. ‘We all have mothers.’

Hunter sighed. ‘Mine is particularly loving and understanding.’

‘How awful for you,’ Rosa murmured, thinking of her own mother’s parting words to her. They had not been kind.

‘She’s lonely, rattling round in our big old house, and she’s asked me to go home.’

‘Will you?’

‘She hasn’t asked a single thing of me since...’ He paused for a moment. ‘Since I left England.’

‘You might find you enjoy being back home, surrounded by the people who know and love you.’

Hunter grimaced, as if the idea was completely unpalatable. Rosa wondered if there was something else that made him reluctant to go home. All his talk of restlessness, of wanting to see the world and discover new places, was all very well, but she was astute enough to know it was a pile of lies. Hunter might feel all of that, but it wasn’t the reason he was so unsettled, so reluctant to return home, Rosa could see it in his eyes. Something much bigger was keeping him away.

She was just settling back on to the seat of the curricle, making herself comfortable for the rest of the journey ahead when a movement to the side of the road caught her eye. She leaned forward, peering into the undergrowth to see whether it was some sort of animal or a person loitering where they shouldn’t be.

‘Alt!’ a man shouted in Italian as he jumped from the bushes in front of the curricle. Halt.

Hunter didn’t have many options. It was either rein in the horses or trample the tattily dressed young man.

Rosa felt her heart begin to pound in her chest and she had to keep her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. She didn’t recognise the man standing in front of the restless horses, but he must be there for her. In her month-long imprisonment in the Di Mercurios’ villa she hadn’t laid eyes on this man, but she had learnt that the Di Mercurio family was vast and the number of young men she could call cousin reached well into double figures. This must surely be some relation come to take her back.

Just as Rosa was about to grab hold of the reins and urge the horses forward she saw the pistol in the man’s hand and paused for a second. Not because of the gun, not really. Of course the man could aim and fire and hit one of them, but hitting a moving target was difficult and she reckoned they had a good chance of getting away without injury to either of them. Rosa paused because of the strip of fabric covering the lower half of the man’s face, as if he didn’t want to be recognised.

‘Don’t move or I will shoot the lady,’ another voice came from behind the curricle.

Rosa spun round and saw three more men similarly attired.

She glanced at Hunter, saw the expressions of irritation and disbelief flit over his face before it settled back to a stony, unreadable façade.

‘Sorry, gentlemen, I don’t speak Italian,’ Hunter said, in an exaggerated, loud voice. ‘English.’

Rosa frowned. She knew he spoke Italian, or at least she thought he did. She opened her mouth to translate for him and got a sharp dig in the ribs from his elbow. Quickly she closed her mouth again and moved a little closer to Hunter. She wasn’t going to succeed in escaping from the Di Mercurios only to be killed by bandits on a dusty Italian road.

‘Denaro!’ the chief bandit shouted, then slowly, working his mouth around the unfamiliar word, ‘Money!’

The three bandits from behind the curricle edged closer.

‘I’m afraid I don’t carry much with me,’ Hunter said a little too flippantly for Rosa’s liking. They were being threatened by four men with pistols and swords and here he was pretending not to understand them and refusing to hand anything over.

‘Money,’ the chief bandit demanded again.

A squat, swarthy man with the complexion similar to that of a toad jabbed Rosa lightly with the tip of his sword and leered at her, giving her a perfect view of his three remaining teeth, all black and rotten in his lower jaw.

Rosa fought the nausea that rose up from her stomach, desperately trying to suppress the gag that threatened to escape from her throat. Although she reasoned vomiting over a bandit might not be a bad way to get him to leave you alone.

‘Money,’ the toad man repeated, his accent thick and his eyes roaming over Rosa’s body.

She felt Hunter shift in his seat beside her and wondered if he was reaching for his coin purse. Thinking of the small amount of money she’d been able to keep safe throughout the journey to Italy and her subsequent imprisonment, Rosa felt her fear melting away and a white-hot fury consuming her instead. They had no right to steal her money, no right to ruin her plans for the future.

Leaning forward, Rosa made to stand and give these bandits a piece of her mind when she felt a restraining hand on her arm.

‘Sit down,’ Hunter said calmly, as if he were talking about the weather at a garden party. ‘Or you’ll get us both killed.’

‘At least I’m trying to do something,’ Rosa hissed.

‘Something reckless and stupid.’

‘They will not get my money.’

‘Is that small purse of yours worth your life?’

Rosa hesitated. He didn’t understand. That small purse was her life. Without it she wouldn’t have a way to fund her passage back to England. She wouldn’t even have a way to feed herself. She’d be forced back to the Di Mercurios, forced to throw herself on their mercy. No doubt she would be locked away for another five months and once she’d given birth they would take her child away from her.

Rosa was saved from having to answer by the toad man grabbing her by the waist and squeezing in a lascivious manner. With a squeal of outrage, she thumped him on the head and was just steadying herself to throw another punch when there was a flurry of movement beside her.

Hunter leapt from his seat, barrelled into one of the bandits, sending him crashing into the second man. Whilst the two criminals struggled to disengage from one another Hunter softly grabbed both their flailing pistols and fired a shot towards the chief bandit, making him dive back into the bushes.

Rosa watched in disbelief as Hunter sprinted after the man, leaping through the air as he reached the undergrowth and throwing a punch that sounded as though it hit its mark. There was a distinct crunch of bone and a yelp of pain, followed by a few moments’ silence. Eventually Hunter hauled himself up out of the undergrowth with a casual grin.

The two men he’d disarmed moments ago glanced at one another, then rushed towards him and Rosa heard herself gasp as Hunter sank to the floor and kicked out with a foot just as they reached him. Both men tripped, sprawling to the ground with shouts of pain. Quickly he aimed both pistols and fired a shot from each towards the bandits’ heads.

Rosa squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the explosion of blood and brains from the two bandits, but as she pressed her lids together she heard a low whimpering. Cautiously she peeked and saw a spasm of movement from the ground. For a moment she wondered if Hunter had missed from such a short range, but then realised he’d aimed a few inches above the men’s heads.

‘Run,’ Hunter ordered. ‘Now.’

Rosa watched as the two bandits wobbled to their feet and ran, not sparing a backwards glance for their compatriot left behind.

As Hunter turned slowly Rosa could feel her pulse beating in her throat, a warm, rhythmic reminder of how alive she felt right now. He strolled nonchalantly back towards the curricle, as if he was out for an evening walk and hadn’t just single-handedly bested three armed bandits. In the mid-morning sun his blue eyes sparkled and Rosa had the sense he was enjoying himself.

Beside her the toad man hesitated, looking over his shoulder as if checking for possible escape routes.

‘Run,’ Hunter repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

For a moment Rosa thought the toad man would obey, but she saw the flash of defiance in his eyes just a second before he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her body tightly against his. She felt the cool metal of the pistol against her neck and knew this scared man holding her captive was very dangerous. He had been abandoned by his comrades and could see no way out. One false move and he would probably fire out of fear.

‘There’s no need for that,’ Hunter said, keeping his tone soothing. ‘Let the lady go and you have nothing to fear from me.’

Everyone present knew Lord Hunter was lying. He’d taken three men out without even breaking a sweat in the mid-morning sun, Rosa couldn’t see a situation that worked out well for the toad man.

She felt the tremor of the bandit’s hands, sensed his uncertainty as he shifted from one foot to the other.

‘What’s your name?’ Hunter asked in flawless Italian.

‘Er-Er-Ernesto,’ the bandit stuttered.

‘Well, Ernesto, why don’t we make a deal? You let go of my friend here and I will let you walk away.’

‘Walk away?’ Ernesto asked in surprise.

‘That’s right. You haven’t hurt either of us, haven’t taken anything. I see no reason you can’t just walk away from this.’

‘I’m not stupid,’ Ernesto said with a sneer. ‘You’ll kill me as soon as my back is turned.’

‘Like I killed your comrades?’

Ernesto the toad man hesitated.

‘Just start backing away. If you see me raise my pistol before you get out of range then shoot me, but I give you my word I will not harm you unless you make me.’

Rosa studied Lord Hunter’s calm demeanour and reassuring expression. It was hard not to trust him, she realised.

‘The money?’ Ernesto asked, but Rosa could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

‘No, Ernesto. We leave here with our money. You leave with your life.’

Ten seconds passed, then twenty. Rosa could hear a soft mumbling as Ernesto reasoned his options out to himself. After what seemed like an eternity his grip on her loosened.

‘Keep your pistols low,’ Ernesto said. ‘Or I’ll shoot.’

Slowly he began backing away down the road, his eyes fixed on Thomas. Thomas stood still, his arms relaxed by his side, watching the bandit calmly. Rosa couldn’t quite believe his heart wasn’t pounding or his hands slick with sweat, but he looked completely composed.

As Ernesto got to the bend in the road he stopped for a moment before turning and running. They could hear his heavy footsteps for at least thirty seconds after he’d disappeared.

Rosa felt her body begin to shake and immediately Lord Hunter was by her side.

‘Sit,’ he commanded. ‘Take deep breaths. You were very brave.’

As she attempted to limp back to the curricle Hunter gripped her gently and scooped her into his arms. The contact between their two bodies was a welcome comfort for Rosa and she held on tightly to his shoulders. As she felt his firm body pressed against hers Rosa glanced up and caught him looking down at her. He could feel it, too, she was sure of it. That need for physical touch, that desire for intimacy. She told herself it was just the shock, the stressful situation they’d been through together, but as he held her a little tighter Rosa wondered if that was all it was.

She half-expected her body to tense, to remember the last time a man had held her so closely, encircled her with his arms, but instead she felt her breathing become more steady and her racing heart slow as she was reassured by Lord Hunter’s touch.

‘You let him go,’ she said as he placed her gently on the seat of the curricle.

‘I gave my word.’

‘You let all of them go.’

Hunter shrugged, but Rosa could see there had been a reason behind his decision. Most men would have inflicted maximum pain on bandits who threatened them and Lord Hunter had disarmed and bested them all without much effort. Rosa wouldn’t have blamed him if there were four dead bodies strewn on the road right now.

‘They would have killed us.’

Hunter chuckled. ‘Bloodthirsty wench, aren’t you?’

Rosa managed to smile.

‘I don’t think they would have killed us,’ Thomas said simply. ‘They were desperate, driven to do something terrible.’

‘How do you know they were desperate?’

‘Did you see the way they were dressed? How gaunt they were? These weren’t successful criminals. And none of them knew how to fight.’

Rosa fell silent, contemplating what Hunter had just said.

‘Circumstances can drive decent human beings to do almost anything,’ Hunter said, looking off into the distance. ‘And I suppose hunger is a real motivator.’

‘Surely there have got to be better ways to make money than stealing, though?’

Hunter shrugged. ‘Of course. But if you’ve been turned away from work, unable to provide food for your family, who knows what you might do.’

He moved away from her and began checking over the horses, murmuring soft words to soothe the skittish animals.

As she sat and watched him Rosa felt a new respect blossoming for the man who had saved her twice now. He might be a little arrogant and unapologetic at times, but there was something more to Lord Hunter. Rosa knew most men would have either panicked at being surrounded by bandits or become so furious they showed no compassion or mercy. It was rather refreshing to see a man think with his heart and not his fists.

‘Where did you learn to fight like that?’ she asked.

‘Here and there.’

‘In India?’

‘Amongst other places.’

She wondered why he was so reticent talking about where he learned to defend himself so effortlessly.

‘Ready?’ he asked as he vaulted back up beside her.

Rosa nodded. Although they had come out unscathed she felt more than a little shaken by the encounter and was keen to be on their way.

Lord Hunter urged the horses forward and soon they were gliding through the country lanes. As Rosa felt her anxiety levels begin to drop she began to relax into the man beside her. It felt good to have even the slight physical contact of thigh against thigh after her months of isolation.

As her thoughts started to run away from her, tentative hopes spiralling out of control, Rosa forced herself to pull away. She’d lost her virtue and her future to one man, she would not lose anything else to another.

Chapter Five

‘Tell me about the father,’ Hunter said as he leaned back in his chair.

They were sitting on a terrace in the bustling village of Malcesine, sipping a rather delicious concoction of juices from tall glasses.

Rosa started in surprise at the bluntness of his question and coughed as the juice tickled her throat.

‘The father?’ she asked. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she couldn’t believe he’d asked the question so directly.

Hunter gestured to her abdomen and Rosa quickly laid a protective hand on the growing bump beneath her dress.

‘The father of your baby. Who is he?’

‘No one you would know.’

‘An unsuitable suitor? A dastardly married man? A dashing young footman?’

‘Shall we set about our enquiries?’ Rosa asked.

‘Sit back, relax. You’ve had a stressful morning. We can ask about a passage to England in an hour, nothing will change between then and now.’

‘Except my desire to murder you,’ Rosa muttered under her breath.

‘What was that?’

She smiled sweetly and took another sip of her juice. It really was delicious. She could taste orange and a hint of lemon, but there was something else there, too.

Rosa tried to ignore Hunter’s intense gaze as she drummed her fingers on the table, shifted in her chair and traced the condensation as it ran down the edge of the glass. He didn’t ask the question again, just sat watching her, as if he knew she would crack and tell him eventually.

‘What beautiful trees,’ Rosa said, gesturing to a cluster of short trees near the water’s edge.

Still Hunter said nothing, but that lazy smile she had begun to know well danced across his lips. She wondered how she could find a man so irritating, but still so attractive. It was his eyes, she pondered, you couldn’t stay annoyed at a man whose eyes sparkled and glimmered with amusement all day long.

Again she shifted, trying to focus on watching the locals strolling arm in arm along the waterfront. It was unnerving, having someone watch you for such a length of time, and Rosa felt her composure slowly beginning to slip.

‘Do you come here often?’ she asked, trying to force a response out of Hunter.

‘No.’

‘You should. It truly is a beautiful spot.’

Silence again.

‘Have you always been this annoying?’ she asked with a sigh.

‘My mother tells me I’m persistent.’ Hunter gave a small shrug.

‘That’s a nice way of putting it.’

‘Tell me about the father.’

‘Why do you want to know?’

Hunter shrugged again. ‘I’m interested. And it’ll take your mind off our encounter today.’

That was true, Rosa hadn’t thought of the bandits for a whole five minutes.

‘He’s our neighbour, a boy I grew up with.’

‘Boy?’

Rosa grimaced. ‘Man. He must be twenty-seven or twenty-eight by now, I suppose.’

‘Old enough to behave better.’

‘You don’t know how he behaved.’

‘You’re here in exile in Italy rather than happily married in some country house in England.’

It was the truth, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. For a long time Rosa had imagined a life with David. A home of their own filled with beautiful children, the life she had been brought up to expect.

‘So what happened?’

Rosa shook her head. She really did not want to talk about this. Even uttering David’s name had the bile rising up in her throat and knots of tension forming across her shoulders.

‘How about you?’ she asked, desperate to change the subject. ‘Any great loves in your life.’

Hunter smiled and shook his head, ‘I’ve never found that special someone.’

‘But you’ve looked?’

‘Some people aren’t destined to settle down.’

It was an odd statement, one that made Rosa pause and study the man in front of her for a moment.

‘But you’re titled, you have an estate. Isn’t there a need for an heir?’

He shrugged. ‘The estate will pass to some distant relative when I die.’

Although it was said casually she could see the pain in his eyes at the idea. Whatever he might say, this was an uncomfortable subject for Hunter.

‘You wouldn’t rather it went to your son, your own flesh and blood?’

‘That is never going to happen so there is no point in mourning what never could be.’

‘Why—’ Rosa started, but a small hand tugging at her sleeve cut her off.

‘Please, miss, spare some money. I haven’t eaten for three days.’ A small girl stood looking up at her with large brown eyes in a skinny face.

Rosa hesitated and then reached for her coin purse. She might not have much money, and what she did have she needed for the passage home and her new life, but it was hard to ignore the real pleading in the young girl’s eyes.

‘Rosa, no,’ Hunter shouted, trying to grab her hand, but it was too late. As soon as the coin purse was out in the open an older boy swooped in and grabbed it from her palm. At high speed both he and the girl ran in different directions, weaving through the crowd.

‘No,’ Rosa whispered, her heart plummeting as she realised her whole future had just been ripped away from her.

Hunter was on his feet immediately, darting after the boy, but Rosa could see straight away he would never be able to catch him. Hunter might be fast, but the boy knew the streets and was small enough to slip between the crowds.

Gripping the edge of the table, Rosa felt her breathing become shallower and could hear a harsh rasping coming from her throat. Without any money she was doomed. She had the choice of life on the streets in a foreign country or crawling back to the Di Mercurios.

‘I can’t go back,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t go back.’

She looked down at the dress she was wearing, that would fetch her a small sum, but her modest jewellery had been taken from her by her grandmother when she had arrived at the villa. She owned nothing else in the world except the clothes she was wearing.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hunter said, returning to the table, his face flushed from exertion. ‘I lost him in the crowd.’

Rosa shook her head, unable to get any words out. She’d been so pleased when they had escaped the bandits with her purse intact, she’d never thought it might be at risk here in this idyllic village.

‘Was that all the money you had?’ he asked. Gone was his normal jovial tone, replaced by concern and compassion.

‘Everything.’

Hunter raked a hand through his short hair, causing tufts to stick up at the front.

‘I can’t go back to them,’ Rosa whispered again to herself.

Anything would be better than that. Maybe she could find work somewhere, save up the money for a passage home. As soon as the idea entered her mind she dismissed it. If there was no work for able-bodied young men then no one was going to employ a pregnant woman.

‘Rosa, look at me,’ Hunter said, taking her hand in his own.

As his fingers gripped hers Rosa felt some of her panic begin to subside. It was as if Hunter was tethering her to reality, stopping her from plummeting into a deep despair.

‘We will figure something out. All is not lost.’

‘That was all my money. Everything I own.’

Gently he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Rosa looked up and met his eyes and realised that whatever he said she trusted him. It was ridiculous, she’d only known the man a day, but if he said all was not lost then maybe it would work out.

‘Come,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘I need to think.’

She allowed him to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow, lay down a few coins for their drinks and lead her away from the riverside tavern. She leaned heavily on his arm, tapping the cane against the cobblestones for a little extra support, but out here in the heat of the day her ankle ached.

‘I’m ruined,’ Rosa murmured as they weaved their way through the crowds. Not ruined in the sense of a loss of virtue, that had happened many months ago, but all the way through her ordeal she’d had some hope, a plan to make things better.

Hunter didn’t say anything, just continued down towards the water’s edge.

‘Look out there,’ he said as they reached the promenade that ran along the edge of the lake.

Rosa looked, following the direction his extended finger was pointing in. The sun glinted off the water and in the distance the hills surrounding the lake were shielded in a thin heat haze.

‘What am I looking at?’

Hunter didn’t answer, he was looking down at his hand in horror. Rosa followed his gaze, but as soon as he noticed she was looking, too, it was as if a mask came down over his face and his hand promptly dropped to his side.

‘What’s wrong?’ Rosa asked.

‘Stay there,’ he ordered her, not giving her a chance to answer before striding off along the promenade.

* * *

He had to get away. Away from the crowds, away from Rosa’s concerned enquiries and away from the stifling heat that threatened to consume him. Forcing himself to walk and not run, Thomas headed away from the village.

‘Lord Hunter,’ he heard Rosa call in the distance, but her voice barely registered in his mind.

I will not look.

Resolutely he kept his eyes fixed on a tree in the distance, willing himself not to look down.

His resolve cracked within thirty seconds. The first glance was fleeting and brief, but when he saw his hands weren’t moving rhythmically and of their own accord he managed to gain control of himself a little and take a second look.

Sinking down on to the stone wall that ran along the lakefront, Thomas held his hands out in front of him. As he had pointed out over the lake there had been a definite tremor, an uncontrolled shaking of his hand. It had been small, probably unnoticeable to anyone but him, but he could not pretend it hadn’t been there.

Now his hands were steady and unmoving as he studied them. Thomas exhaled, trying to calm his racing heart and dampen the nausea that rose from his stomach. For a few moments he had thought it was the beginning of the end, that the disease that had claimed his father and his brother was starting to develop in him.

It always began this way—a minor tremor, an uncontrolled movement. Followed by memory loss, personality change and the ever-worsening rhythmic jerky movements and a loss of co-ordination. His older brother Michael had developed his first symptoms when he was just twenty and died at twenty-eight. Thomas’s age now. Their father had been a little more fortunate, surviving into his forties. It was a well-kept secret, the Hunter family curse, but generation after generation showed signs of affliction.

Maybe I’ll be one of the lucky ones.

It was what Thomas prayed for every day, that he would be one of the few the disease skipped. Not every member of the Hunter family was affected, but there was no way to know if you would succumb until the day you died.

Thomas rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Every morning he inspected his body for any unnatural movements, any clue that he might be developing the thing he feared the most. For a moment there he had been convinced that was it for him, that his time on earth was up. One thing Thomas was sure of was that he wouldn’t let this disease rob him of his dignity and his hope. If he was ever sure his turn had come, then he would find a more dignified way to depart this world, even if it was considered a mortal sin to commit suicide.

‘Lord Hunter,’ Rosa said as she approached him slowly, warily.

She’d followed him. Of course she had.

‘What’s wrong?’

He took a second, flashed a charming smile and stood. ‘Nothing, nothing at all.’

‘Then why did you run off?’

‘I have a proposition for you,’ he said, knowing it was the only way to get Rosa to drop the subject. ‘Let me escort you home.’

He had to smile at Rosa’s shocked expression: the gaping mouth, wide eyes and rapid blinking of her eyelids. Over the years he had become a master of concealing his fears of the illness that might one day claim him and distraction was a great technique.

‘Home?’

‘Back to England. To whatever friend you hope will take you in.’

‘Why would you do that?’

Thomas shrugged. He’d made the suggestion impulsively, but the more he thought about it the more he warmed to the idea.

‘I need to return home. I owe that much to my mother. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to abandon you in your hour of need, so why not combine the two objectives?’

‘It’s too much, I could never ask that of you.’

‘What other options do you have?’

Rosa fell silent. She was in no position to turn down the offer of assistance in whatever form.

‘You are sure you’re happy to return to England? I wouldn’t want you to return solely on my account.’

Thomas thought about it before answering and found he was. It would be pleasant to stroll around his estate and reminisce with his mother. He knew he would not stay there indefinitely, but a few weeks, maybe a month, and then he could pick a new destination for his travels. Thomas found the idea of revisiting the home he had once been so happy in rather appealing and knew if he wanted to return for a short period he should do so soon. Who knew if he would get another opportunity?

‘Quite sure.’

Rosa shook her head in disbelief, then threw her arms around him.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

He had never heard two words uttered so sincerely or with such relief.

‘I will find a way to reimburse you any expenses accrued once we get back to England.’

Thomas waved a dismissive hand—the cost of a passage on a ship and a few weeks in various guest houses was the least of his worries. It wasn’t as though he would be able to take his money with him when he died.

‘Thank you, Lord Hunter,’ Rosa replied. Thomas could see she was struggling to hold back the tears.

‘Call me Thomas. We’re going to be spending much time together.’

‘Thomas,’ she repeated, smiling up at him.

‘And I shall call you Rosa.’

‘You do already.’

He grinned, took her hand and kissed her just below the knuckles. It felt good to have a purpose after all this time.

‘This afternoon we shall return to the villa. There are a few things I will need to tie up before we depart. I will arrange for us to leave early next week.’

He would terminate his lease on the villa. As much as he loved the comfortable dwelling and beautiful views, he realised it was time for him to move on. The momentary fear that he might be entering his last few months of healthy life had jolted him into action. There was more of the world to see, more to experience. He would travel home with Rosa, visit his mother for a few weeks and then spin the large globe that sat in his father’s study. His study. Wherever his finger landed, that would be where he travelled next.

As they walked back along the promenade Thomas tried to summon some of his normal excitement when contemplating a new adventure, but this time his heart was not really in it. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of home: the rolling green hills, the woods he’d played in as a boy, even the peaceful spot right at the edge of the estate where his father and brother were laid to rest.

Chapter Six

Dearest Caroline,

I hope you are keeping well. It seems like a century has passed since we saw each other last winter. I was very saddened to hear the news of Lord Trowridge’s passing. Please forgive me for the lateness of my condolences. I have been out of the country for some months, but you are never far from my thoughts.

How is young Rupert? I remember the week I spent with you in January with such fondness. He was such an adorable little baby and I’m sure he’s bringing you even more joy as he grows.

I do not know if any gossip has reached your ears down in Dorset, but I am in a little bit of trouble. These last three months I’ve been exiled from London, sent to stay with my mother’s family in northern Italy. I won’t bore you with all the sordid details, but I have found myself with child, and you can imagine Mother’s reaction to that little scandal.

Her plan was to tell the world I had gone to nurse my ailing grandmother—who is as strong as an ox and still shows up the young farmhands. I would reappear in society in a year and no one would be the wiser. My child was to be adopted by some Italian family and I would never set eyes on him or her again.

I know I should probably have been grateful, Caroline, but I couldn’t bear the thought of my baby calling someone else Mama. Out of everyone I think you would understand the most.

Anyway, I escaped and now I’ve met an English gentleman who has offered to escort me back to England. He seems very capable and I feel safe in his company, even if he is rather forceful and confident in character.

Now I have the biggest favour to ask of you. I know if I return home my mother will send me back to her family in Italy and if that happens they will take my baby away from me. Caroline, can I come and stay with you whilst I wait out the rest of my pregnancy and work out exactly how to live my life as the mother of an illegitimate child? For I will not give up my baby for anyone, no matter what the future brings.

I remember you saying you have a certain freedom now Lord Trowridge has passed and I wonder if I can impose on you for a short while? I would be happy to be hidden away, or to live a simple life in one of the cottages on your estate.

I have no money and nowhere else to turn. Caroline, I’m sorry to ask so much of you, but I hope one day I will be able to repay you.

We will be leaving Italy any day now. Lord Hunter is just tying up a few loose ends from his life here and then we will be starting our journey back to England. I am not sure of the exact date we will arrive in Dorset, but perhaps I might call on you when we arrive to hear your answer.

I cannot wait to see you and young Rupert again.

All my love,

Rosa

Rosa sat back, folded the letter in half and slipped it into the envelope. She was asking a lot of her old friend, maybe too much, but she didn’t have much choice. Caroline was kind and loyal and wasn’t one to worry overly much about what others thought of her. Rosa knew her oldest friend wouldn’t hesitate to take her in, but that didn’t mean asking was any easier.

‘Who are you writing to?’ Thomas asked as he sauntered across the terrace, tossing a ripe orange up in the air and catching it with ease.

‘Caroline, the Dowager Lady Trowridge,’ Rosa corrected herself. ‘She’s my oldest and dearest friend.’

‘She sounds severe.’

Rosa laughed. No one who had ever met Caroline would describe her as severe.

‘She’s twenty years old, no more than five feet tall and laughs at absolutely everything.’

‘Not your average widow, then?’

Thomas was of course right, despite there being many young widows in society, the term often conjured up images of statuesque women in their later years presiding over a large family with an iron will.

‘Not your average dowager,’ Rosa agreed. ‘She married at eighteen, had her son at nineteen and was a widow by the age of twenty.’

‘Poor girl.’ Then Thomas paused. ‘Or maybe very astute.’

Rosa rather thought it was the latter. Caroline hadn’t protested when the childless Lord Trowridge had started courting her, she’d actively encouraged it. He was kind, wealthy and willing to give her years of independence in exchange for a short time dedicated to making an old man happy. Rosa thought the union had been a success; Lord Trowridge had got a pretty young bride for the last months of his life and now Caroline was in charge of her son’s upbringing and the entire Trowbridge estate until Rupert came of age.

‘I’ve informed her of my plans to return to England and asked for her help when we arrive.’ Rosa took a breath, then pressed on. ‘I’m sure she would be happy to lend me the money to reimburse you for the travel expenses.’

Thomas shrugged. ‘It doesn’t cost that much for a passage from Italy to England, I’m sure I can afford it. We can find another way for you to repay me.’

Rosa’s eyes widened and she felt the blush begin to creep into her cheeks.

Thomas threw his head back and laughed heartily at her expression. ‘I meant you can cook me another one of those delicious meals.’

Rosa’s blush deepened, but she resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands. Of course Thomas wasn’t proposing she repaid his kindness with intimacy. Throughout the week she had stayed with him there hadn’t been even a flicker of flirtation from him. He had meant it when he’d told her that her virtue was safe with him on the first evening of their acquaintance, he hadn’t behaved improperly once. Rosa knew she should be thankful, especially after her awful experience with David, but she felt a tiny surge of disappointment every time Thomas didn’t take an opportunity to get closer to her.

Gaining back control of herself, Rosa smiled. ‘Next time I’ll add less garlic.’

It wouldn’t be quite so galling if Rosa didn’t feel her heart start pounding in her chest every time Thomas stepped in close to her. He was an attractive man, his body toned and muscular from the early morning swims and his eyes full of mischief and laughter. Rosa knew she never wanted to get involved with a man again, but Thomas tested her resolve sometimes. At least when he wasn’t ordering her around or teasing her.

‘Signora Felcini is coming to cook tonight,’ Rosa said. ‘So I’m sure I can persuade her to give me one last lesson before we leave.’

The elderly Italian woman who came in to cook and clean for Thomas a few times a week had taken Rosa under her wing. She ordered Rosa around in rapid Italian and expected her to chop and help with the evening meal, but in return Rosa was treated to a lesson in rustic Italian cookery. In Rosa’s mind it was a fair exchange.

‘I have made arrangements for us to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Your family are causing a bit of a stir searching for you nearby, so I think it would be prudent to leave as soon as possible.’

‘Thank you,’ Rosa said quietly.

She still wasn’t quite sure why Thomas was helping her, it wasn’t as though he got much out of their arrangement, just trouble from the Di Mercurios and the expense of transporting her to England. Whatever his motivations Rosa was keen not to examine them too carefully; Thomas was her only hope now she was penniless and stuck so far from home.

* * *

Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow, adjusted the bandages on his hands and squared up to the punch-bag hanging from the branches of the sturdy olive tree. Quickly he hooked and jabbed, dancing lightly on his toes around the inanimate opponent.

He’d learned to box at school, along with all the other sons of the gentry, classes where their wiry games master instructed the small group on the basics of boxing. Of course that had been no use for the real world and nearly four years ago, when he’d first been beaten and robbed on his journey through Europe, he’d vowed to learn to defend himself better. The first year of his travels he’d been attacked five times. It was unsurprising really. He was a well-dressed young man who needed to carry money with him—a prime target for any ambitious criminal. After each attack Thomas had retreated for a while, licked his wounds, then restarted his training with renewed vigour. He picked up techniques from the countries he visited, practised his defensive and attacking modes every day, and soon he no longer had to hide his modest purse on his person or avoid the more unsavoury areas of the cities he visited.

Now training every evening had become part of his daily routine, just like the refreshing early morning swim in the lake.

With one last high kick Thomas began unwrapping the bandages from his hands. He loved this feeling just after he’d exercised, the heady mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. Over the years he’d developed a deep-seated respect for his body and worked hard to keep it in top physical shape. Too many people took their physical health for granted, but he’d seen how quickly a man could be robbed of his ability to control his limbs, to walk, to run, to jump. He was determined to enjoy every minute he had conscious control of his muscles so he would regret nothing if and when the Hunter family curse struck.

‘Do you think...?’ Rosa said as she rounded the corner of the villa and came into view. ‘Oh.’

Thomas had to hide a smile. She became so flustered whenever she caught sight of his bare skin, a deep flush spread across her cheeks and she seemed to lose her ability to speak for a few seconds. He liked to watch her rally, to refuse to give in to her embarrassment and try to continue as if nothing was amiss.

Nonchalantly Thomas pulled on his shirt. No need to make the poor girl suffer any more than was necessary.

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