Emily raised her eyes and looked about the room for that tall, well-remembered figure.

She didn’t immediately perceive him standing amidst a group of gentlemen in the far corner of the room.

It was only when he turned his head and she received the full impact of an unwavering gaze from all-too-perceptive gray eyes that she realized that the gentleman immaculately attired in a long-tailed black coat, which emphasized the breadth of superb masculine shoulders, and tight-fitting trousers, which did little to hide the muscular shapeliness of long legs, was none other than the being who continued to plague her dreams all too frequently even after all these years.

“Oh, dear God! He’s coming over,” she muttered. “Why couldn’t the wretched creature have allowed me at least a few minutes in order to compose myself?”

“Hello, Em,” he responded in a deep, throaty tone that was no less appealing than the smile he bestowed upon her….

Lord Hawkridge’s Secret

Harlequin® Historical

Author Note

My story is set in what many of you consider to be the most romantic period in our history—the Regency. First and foremost, Lord Hawkridge’s Secret is a love story. However, for those of you who enjoy a mystery to solve, this book also contains a strong intrigue element. Its endearing heroine is spirited, its hero is charming and its sinister villain is utterly loathsome—in other words the story contains something that will, hopefully, appeal to a wide range of tastes.

I hope you enjoy it!

LORDHAWKRIDGE’S SECRET
ANNE ASHLEY

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Available from Harlequin®Historical and ANNE ASHLEY

The Reluctant Marchioness #165

Tavern Wench #182

Beloved Virago #193

A Lady of Rare Quality #200

Betrayed and Betrothed #223

Lord Hawkridge’s Secret #238

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ANNE ASHLEY

was born and educated in Leicester. She lived for a long time in Scotland, but now lives in the West Country with two cats, her two sons and her husband, who has a wonderful and very necessary sense of humor. When not pounding away at the keys of her word processor, she likes to relax in her garden, which she has opened to the public on more than one occasion in aid of the village church funds.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

Miss Emily Stapleton cast a glance at her silent companion, seated beside her in the curricle, before fixing what one languishing dolt in Brighton the previous summer had been overheard to describe as deep pools of sheer enchantment on the road ahead.

Tooling herself about the countryside had swiftly become one of her favourite pastimes, especially since the long and dreary winter months had given way to what was betraying every sign of becoming a very fine spring. All in all, she decided, experiencing a feeling of smug satisfaction, life at the moment was exceedingly pleasant, free from cares.

Her decision to remove to Dorsetshire and live with her paternal grandfather had undoubtedly been a heart-rending one to make, and one, moreover, of which her beloved late mother would have staunchly disapproved, but even so Emily had never regretted the choice she had made. After all, the alternative had been unthinkable, and a subject upon which, even after almost half a decade, she still found it distressing to dwell.

By dint of long practice, she once again succeeded in thrusting the painful memory to the back of her mind as she cast a further glance, brimful of mischief this time, at her companion. ‘You’re very quiet, Sarah. Not nervous, I trust, at being driven about by a female? Even my watchdog,’ she added, deliberately raising her voice for the benefit of the small, stocky individual perched on the back, ‘is secretly impressed with my ability, although he stubbornly refuses to admit to it of course.’

Jonas Finn’s deep grunt in response made Sarah chuckle, something which she tended to do far more frequently whenever in the company of her closest friend. ‘I’m not in the least nervous,’ she assured her, ‘and I’m enjoying the experience very much. I would have come out with you long before now if I hadn’t been so busy with all the arrangements for the party next week.’

Exercising masterly self-control, Emily managed to refrain from comment, even though there was much she would dearly have liked to say, and possibly would if there wasn’t a noticeable improvement in her companion’s day-to-day existence in the very near future.

One of the things that had very much increased her enjoyment of residing in Dorsetshire during the past years had been the swift friendship which had sprung up between her and Sarah Nichols, who had been invited by her godmother, Lady Deverel, to make her home at Deverel Hall a matter of a few months before Emily herself had come to live with her grandfather.

Undoubtedly their orphaned status was the common bond from which a solid friendship and a deep, almost sisterly affection had rapidly emerged. Many in the locale had expressed genuine sympathy for them both. Which, Emily considered, in her case at least was totally unmerited. The Honourable Mr John Stapleton might not have been the ideal person to take charge of his orphaned granddaughter. Undeniably he was selfishly set in his ways, and considerably vague on occasions, but for all his woolliness of mind, which Emily privately thought was a sham for the most part, they rubbed along together remarkably well.

He had from the first made her very welcome, and had permitted her to do more or less as she pleased; whereas poor Sarah had been invited to live in a household where its occupants were not above taking full advantage of her presence to such an extent that her status was little above that of a housekeeper-cum-companion. And an unpaid one at that! It made Emily fume to think that her sweet-natured friend was so put upon by those who were happy enough to call her Cousin, even though the connection was remote. To be fair, though, Emily was forced to own that Sarah herself was much to blame for her present lifestyle.

‘And I suppose you have seen to all the arrangements in your usual efficient way.’

Grey eyes were swiftly lowered. ‘I—I haven’t been responsible for them all. Godmama has been of immeasurable help.’

‘A likely story!’ Emily scoffed. ‘Your godmother couldn’t organise the lighting of candles in a front parlour! And as for that pampered daughter of hers…I do not doubt that you will be so much at Drusilla’s beck and call from now until her birthday party takes place, ensuring everything is perfect, that you’ll be given precious little time to organise your own toilette.’ Once again she risked taking her eyes off the road ahead to cast her friend a suspicious glance. ‘I’ll wager you’ve not even begun to make up that length of pink silk you purchased the other week.’

The sheepish expression was answer enough. ‘No, I thought not,’ Emily muttered. ‘If you give it to me I’ll make a start on the gown. I might not be your equal with a needle, but at least I can cut it out for you.’

Sarah betrayed her mortification in a very becoming blush. ‘Oh, no! I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of our friendship by asking such a thing.’

‘You won’t be, because I offered,’ Emily pointed out, determined to have her way in this.

A flicker of gratitude sprang into Sarah’s eyes. ‘Well, if you’re certain you don’t mind, I would be most grateful. I did wonder when I’d find time to make a start on the dress. I understand that Cousin Charles has invited several of his friends to the party whilst he has been staying away in London. In fact, there will be so many guests putting up at the house that I’ve offered to give up my room so that we can accommodate all Drusilla’s friends too.’

This intelligence induced Emily to take her eyes off the road once more in order to subject her friend to a prolonged, considering stare. ‘And where do you propose to sleep? In one of the attic rooms, I suppose, with the rest of the servants?’ She had meant it in jest, but it swiftly became clear, when Sarah appeared reluctant to meet her gaze, that she had hit upon the truth. ‘You don’t mean to tell me that that is where the Deverels are expecting you to sleep?’

‘Well, yes. But—but I did suggest it in the first place…And it’s only for a few days.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this!’ Emily announced, hard put to conceal her disgust. She had never been afraid to speak her mind, most especially when in the company of people with whom she was well acquainted, and so did not think twice about adding, ‘Well, you’re not! You can stay with Grandpapa and me. And I won’t take no for an answer!’

The invitation, though forcefully delivered, was kindly meant, and Sarah, gazing ahead at the stretch of road which traversed Kempton Wood, was very tempted to accept. ‘Well, if you’re certain your grandfather wouldn’t object to having a—Look out!’

Sarah’s unexpected warning coincided with a considerably gruffer one delivered from the rear of the carriage. With lightning reflexes, Emily quickly had her horses veering to the left in an attempt to avoid a collision with the staggering figure that had unexpectedly emerged from the edge of the wood.

Hurriedly bringing her team to a halt, Emily glanced back over her shoulder to discover to her intense dismay the man now lying sprawled on the ground. ‘Oh, dear Lord!’ she cried. ‘I must have hit him, after all!’

Without a second thought she tossed the reins to Sarah, before jumping down from the curricle and racing back along the road, her faithful and ever vigilant groom at her heels.

‘Be careful, miss,’ Jonas warned, drawing out the pistol which he invariably carried whenever accompanying his young mistress about the countryside. ‘It might be a trap. There could be others lurking. I don’t reckon you did run him down.’

Although occasionally described as stubborn and headstrong, Emily was not so wilful as to ignore sound advice. ‘No, I didn’t think I had,’ she agreed, approaching the recumbent figure with caution and swiftly detecting the dark stain seeping through a charred portion of his coat. ‘No, it isn’t a trap, Finn. He’s hurt. He’s been shot!’

Dropping to her knees, Emily carefully turned the man over on to his back before gently resting his head in her lap. He wasn’t very old, no more than twenty-five or six, she judged, but she very much feared from the position of the wound in his chest that he was destined not to celebrate a further birthday.

Lids, badly swollen, flickered as she brushed the blond hair back from his grazed forehead, and a moment later she was subjected to a puzzled, faraway look from eyes of a similar hue to her own.

‘Lie still,’ she urged gently, as he made a feeble attempt to raise an arm. ‘We’ll get help to you soon.’ She glanced up at her groom, who remained avidly scanning the wood, and was about to instruct him to go back to the house to get help when the stranger began to speak, thereby instantly regaining her attention.

‘No…time.’ His voice was so faint that Emily only just managed to catch the words. ‘Must…must get word to The Kestrel to be in—in…Raven…m-midnight…six…six-teenth.’

‘What’s that he said, miss?’

‘I’m not certain, Jonas. Sounded utter gibberish to me,’ she admitted.

‘He’s probably lost his wits, miss.’

‘No, Jonas. I’m afraid he’s just lost his life,’ she enlightened him, as the stranger’s head lolled to one side, and his last breath passed between the cut and swollen lips.

It took Emily a moment or two to recover from the very unpleasant experience of having someone die virtually in her arms, then, with the admirable self-control which she always displayed in times of stress, she rose to her feet, mistress of herself once again. ‘There’s nothing more we can do for the poor fellow now, except drag him off the road. We’ll go directly back to the house. You and the stable-lad can come back here to collect the body in the cart, and then go straight over to see Sir George Maynard and apprise him of what’s happened, whilst I, in the meantime, see Miss Nichols safely returned to Deverel Hall.

‘Now, for the love of heaven don’t argue, Finn!’ she ordered, when he was about to do just that. ‘I’m quite capable of driving the two miles to the Hall without your escort.’

A little over an hour later Emily was back in the pleasant house which had been her home for the past few years, and was endeavouring, without much success, to explain to her somewhat eccentric grandsire precisely what had taken place during the eventful journey back from the local town.

Appearing faintly bewildered, he regarded her in silence for a moment over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. ‘Shot?’

‘Yes, Grandfather, shot.’

‘But I thought you just said that you’d run him down.’

‘No, I didn’t say that,’ she corrected, striving to be patient with the old gentleman, who could be something of a trial on occasions. ‘Do try to pay attention, sir. I said I thought I must have run him down, but I hadn’t. He’d been shot.’

He bent a look of mild reproach upon her. ‘But you cannot go about the county shooting people, my dear. I dare swear a great many folk deserve it. But it simply won’t do. Will not do at all! Besides, Sir George won’t be best pleased when he hears about it.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Emily exclaimed, just as the door opened and her grandfather’s housekeeper showed none other than the local magistrate himself into the parlour.

Sir George Maynard, a large, grey-haired gentleman with a big barrel chest, which his waistcoats strained to cover, and deceptively merry blue eyes, which little escaped, was a much respected figure in the community. He was an old acquaintance of John Stapleton’s, and had a fondness for his friend’s granddaughter, which he betrayed now by casting her a sympathetic smile, whilst giving her slender hands a brief, reassuring squeeze.

‘A very distressing experience for you, my dear. Wouldn’t have had it happen for the world.’

‘Glad to hear you’ve taken it in such good part, George!’ Mr Stapleton announced, instantly gaining his friend’s attention. ‘Least said soonest mended, eh? I’ve already given her a scold, so it’s best we forget about the whole business.’ He glanced about in a vague manner. ‘Now, what brought me in here in the first place, Emily?’

‘Your book, Grandfather. It’s here on the table.’ She picked it up and handed it to him. ‘Why don’t you return to your library, and leave me to talk to Sir George. I’m certain he’ll be happy to join you for a glass of port later.’

Never needing much encouragement to repair to the room where he spent much of his time, Mr Stapleton was happy to leave, and Emily was even happier to close the door behind him, before turning to her visitor whose round face was wreathed in an understanding smile.

‘A bit vague this morning, eh?’

Emily raised one fine brow in a sceptical arch. ‘He’s only vague, as I suspect you must realise, Sir George, when he doesn’t choose to be troubled by something.’

She invited her visitor to take a seat and then, without asking, as he had never been known to refuse, automatically poured him a glass of wine. ‘You’ve spoken to Jonas Finn, I do not doubt, and have seen the body?’

‘Yes, m’dear,’ he acknowledged, after sampling the contents of his glass and watching her gracefully lowering her slender frame, which was a delight for a man of even his advanced years to behold, into the chair opposite. ‘I don’t suppose for a moment there’s much more you can add, so I’ve no intention of plaguing you with a barrage of questions. I’ve arranged for the body to be removed to the undertaker’s in Kempton.’ The Baronet regarded her in silence for a moment. ‘You didn’t recognise the fellow, I suppose?’

‘No, sir. Never set eyes on him before today.’

‘Er…Finn did just happen to mention the man said something to you before he died.’

Emily nodded. ‘But nothing that made any sense. He spoke so faintly I could hardly catch what he was saying.’

‘Pity. It might have given us a clue as to his identity.’ The local Justice of the Peace paused to sample a drop more of the excellent claret whilst all the time studying his companion’s delicate features above the rim of his glass. ‘What—er—did he say precisely, m’dear?’

All at once Emily suspected that much more lay behind the stranger’s death, that he had not merely been set upon, badly beaten and shot, and that Sir George was definitely keeping something to himself. She was very tempted to do likewise, but then thought better of it. ‘I gained the distinct impression he was keen on ornithology. His last words, if I remember correctly, were about birds—kestrels, I think. But, as he had just stumbled out of Kempton Wood, perhaps seeing birds was the last thing he remembered.’ She shrugged. ‘Who can say?’

Just for a second or two there was an added sparkle in the Baronet’s merry blue eyes. ‘Well, if you should recall precisely what it was he did say, perhaps you’ll let me know.’

‘I dare swear it would all come back to me if I took time to think about it,’ she didn’t hesitate to assure him. ‘Though I must be honest and admit that it’s an incident I would far rather forget.’

‘Very understandable, m’dear.’ Tossing the remaining contents of his glass down his throat, he rose to his feet. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way. I’ve an urgent appointment to keep and must set out for London this afternoon. Perhaps you’d be good enough to inform your grandfather that I’m forced to cancel our Friday evening’s chess session. But you can tell him I remember the exact state of play, and that we’ll resume the game after my return.’

Sebastian Hawkridge, seated behind the desk in his library, was gazing through his morning’s correspondence. His intelligent forehead was furrowed by lines of deep concentration as he scanned the missive in his hand. His mien clearly betrayed the keen perception of an extremely astute gentleman, but it was a countenance that few in the polite world had ever been privileged to see.

To have played the part of a fashionable fribble would have been a role too hard to maintain. Yet he had certainly done his utmost in recent years to give the impression that he cared for nothing so much as the pursuit of pleasure. On occasions even this portrayal had been difficult to preserve, but it had been vital to keep up the pretence in order to enable him to undertake a very personal crusade, without arousing the least suspicion among his fellow peers.

Always alert, he clearly heard the sound of the doorknocker filtering through from the hall. He had issued strict instructions that he did not wish to be disturbed, and so knew the moment his butler entered the room that the caller’s business must indeed be urgent for his trusted servant to disobey an order.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but a Sir George Maynard is here to see you on a matter, he assures me, of the utmost importance.’

It took Sebastian a moment only to recall the gentleman to mind and appreciate the precise nature of the business which must have brought him to the house. ‘Yes, show him in, Clegg,’ he instructed, and then rose from his desk in readiness to receive his unexpected visitor.

Once he had furnished him with a glass of wine and had him comfortably established in a chair by the hearth, his lordship swiftly dispensed with pleasantries. ‘Your visit, sir, is unexpected. But I doubt you have journeyed to the capital merely to make a social call. Bad news, I assume.’

‘Afraid so, Hawkridge. Sir Giles Osborne informed me that in the event that I was unable to get hold of him, I could safely pass on any information I attained to you. Sir Giles, so I’ve been informed, is out of town, but he ought to know as soon as possible that the man he sent into Dorset has been murdered.’ Sir George wasn’t slow to detect the flicker of sadness in the younger man’s penetrating grey eyes. ‘Was he by any chance a friend of yours?’

‘We were acquaintances only. I know that Sir Giles thought highly of him. Anderson was a good man.’

Leaning back in his chair, Sebastian stretched out his muscular legs, displayed to advantage in a pair of tight-fitting breeches and shining Hessian boots. ‘I think it’s safe to assume that he was killed because he had discovered something. Osborne, as you probably know, suspected that stretch of coastline was being used by smugglers, and those he’s keen to apprehend. He’ll be back in London early next week, but I doubt he’ll be in a position to replace Anderson speedily. His people are stretched pretty thinly on the ground, so I understand. Nevertheless, I’ll have a word with him when he does return.’

Sir George regarded the younger man in silence for a moment. ‘I’m aware that your interests are somewhat different from Osborne’s, but that you do exchange information from time to time. I haven’t read of any robberies in the newspapers recently, so I can only assume that whatever Anderson had discovered would have been of more interest to our mutual friend.’

‘More than likely,’ Sebastian agreed. ‘Who discovered the body, by the way?’

‘The granddaughter of a near neighbour of mine.’

The shapely hand raising the glass to Lord Hawkridge’s lips checked for a moment, and his gaze was suddenly disconcertingly direct. ‘You wouldn’t, by any chance, be referring to Emily Stapleton?’

‘Why, yes!’ The Baronet was clearly astonished. ‘Are you acquainted with her?’

His lordship’s ruggedly masculine features were all at once softened by a surprisingly tender smile. ‘Oh, yes. I know little Emily Stapleton, right enough. I’ve been acquainted with the family all my life. She and her mother were my nearest neighbours when I resided in Hampshire. In fact, Emily’s mother was my godmother.’

Once again Sir George didn’t attempt to hide his surprise. ‘Great heavens! I never knew that. I remember her mother and father very well. Laura was a lovely woman. It was so very sad that her marriage to Philip Stapleton was so tragically short. He died at the Battle of the Nile.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, I suppose you knew that. Emily doesn’t remember her father too well, of course. But her mother’s death hit her pretty hard, poor child.’

‘I know that too, sir. I was with her at the time.’ Sebastian released his breath in a long sigh. ‘She’s still happy enough living with her grandfather, I understand?’

‘Oh, yes, my boy.’ Sir George’s portly frame shook as he gave vent to a chuckle. ‘Damnable intrepid little thing! Jaunts about the countryside tooling her own carriage now, would you believe?’

There was no semblance of a smile on the younger man’s face. ‘I’m well aware of it!’ Disapproval was clearly evident in the clipped tone. ‘I was given little choice in the matter. The little minx forced my hand!’

Sir George’s bushy brows rose sharply. ‘I’m sorry, my boy. I don’t perfectly understand. Why should Miss Stapleton’s behaviour concern you?’

‘Because, Sir George, I am her legal guardian and not John Stapleton, as most people believe. And I would be very much obliged to you if you would keep that information to yourself.’

Although not perfectly understanding the need for secrecy, Sir George didn’t hesitate to give his word, before his thoughts returned to the reason for his visit. ‘Anderson said something to young Emily before he died. I didn’t like to question her too closely. That young lady has a head on her shoulders, and I didn’t wish to arouse her suspicions. Didn’t want her involved in all this cloak-and-dagger stuff.’

‘And she didn’t tell you what he said?’

Sir George shook his head. ‘Said something about Anderson being keen on bird-watching, would you believe? But I can’t imagine that that can be right.’

His expression once again keenly alert, Sebastian rose to his feet and stood before the hearth to stare intently down at the burning coals. ‘I was wrong, sir. Unless I’m gravely mistaken that message might well have been for me. It’s vital I find out exactly what he said.’

‘I’ll go and visit Emily the instant I get back.’

‘No, don’t do that. It would be better if I questioned her. I’d learn a great deal more than you would. As mentioned, I’ve been acquainted with her all her life, and know how to handle her. Damnation!’ he cursed softly. ‘I would have preferred to have waited, but Fate it seems is forcing my hand.’

Understandably, he turned to discover a puzzled expression on the Baronet’s plump features, but chose not to elaborate. Instead he said, ‘Would I be right in thinking that the Deverels are close neighbours of yours, and that there’s to be a party held at their home in the not too distant future?’

‘Why, yes! Have you been invited?’

‘I was, but turned it down. Charles Deverel and I were up at Oxford together. Unless I’m much mistaken he’s still in town.’ Placing his half-finished glass of wine on the mantel shelf, Sebastian went striding over to the door. ‘I don’t wish to appear rude, sir, but I must go out and run Deverel to earth without delay, and somehow get myself re-invited to that damnable country party without, I hope, arousing suspicion.’

Chapter Two

Raising her eyes from the book which she had obtained from the lending library on the very day she had come upon the stranger at Kempton Wood, Emily gazed across at the sofa, where Sarah sat busily hemming the last few inches of her new gown, and frowned as something odd occurred to her.

‘Sarah, did Sir George Maynard ever question you about that unfortunate incident last week?’

‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘Because it seems to me he’s taken the murder of that stranger very lightly. Which is most unlike him. He’s usually so conscientious. He returned from London four days ago, but hasn’t made the least attempt to question me again.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘Perhaps he doesn’t think there’s anything further you can tell him.’

‘Ah, but there is!’ Emily enlightened her, closing her book and tossing it aside. ‘You see I’ve been thinking about the incident a good deal, and I now recall precisely what the stranger said to me before he died.’

‘In that case why don’t you inform Sir George?’ Sarah suggested, exhibiting her usual sound good sense. ‘He’ll be at the party tomorrow night. And so too shall I now that my new gown is finished!’ she added, her mind swiftly turning to far more important matters as far as she was concerned. She held the garment at arm’s length the better to survey the finished result. ‘I cannot thank you enough for all the work you did on this. If it hadn’t been for you I’d never have finished it in time.’

‘If you must thank someone, then thank Budd,’ Emily responded, refusing to take the credit. ‘She did most of the work on it, not I.’

‘In that case I shall make a point of doing so. Your housekeeper’s an absolute treasure!’

‘I’m very well aware of it,’ Emily assured her. ‘If it hadn’t been for dear old Budd I’d have been saddled with a duenna, would you believe?’

Sarah frankly laughed. ‘For someone who enjoyed a deal of freedom throughout her childhood, far more than most girls are privileged to experience, I cannot imagine you would have taken too kindly to having your treasured independence drastically curtailed by a chaperon.’

‘How well you know me, my dear. No, I should not!’ Emily admitted. ‘Fortunately Budd stepped into the breach by suggesting that she keep an eye on me until a suitable duenna was found. Whether grandfather then forgot the idiotic notion, or was happy to leave matters as they were, I’m not certain.

‘Oh, yes, I’m very well aware that Lady Deverel, among several others hereabouts, thinks it highly improper for a young woman of my age not to be suitably chaperoned,’ Emily went on when she detected her friend’s wry grin. ‘But it’s nonsensical, Sarah. I live with my grandfather, a venerable, elderly gentleman of sober habits. All right, I’ll admit that a cook-housekeeper might not be considered by most as an ideal chaperon, but no one could suggest that dear Mrs Budd isn’t respectable.’

‘That’s true enough,’ Sarah was forced to agree.

‘And since my arrival, of course, we’ve added to the household staff by employing Amy, the parlourmaid, and one of the village girls who comes in every day to help with the cleaning, so Budd isn’t precisely overworked, and is able to spend time with me when the need arises. And as I somehow acquired the running of the household, the servants usually come directly to me for instructions, so things go along pretty smoothly, and everyone is happy.’

Once again Sarah was unable to suppress a smile. ‘In other words you ruled the roost not long after taking up residence here, and have not called upon Budd’s services too often, I suspect.’

‘There’s been absolutely no need for me to do so,’ Emily wasn’t slow to point out. ‘But she’s always on hand on those rare occasions when younger gentlemen call at the house and the proprieties need to be observed. And then, of course, the instant I step outside Jonas Finn appears. He’s worse than six duennas!’

She frowned suddenly as a thought occurred to her. ‘It wasn’t by any chance Lady Deverel who suggested to Grandfather that I ought to have my own personal groom, was it?’

‘I cannot recall her ever mentioning it, no. What makes you ask?’

Puzzled, Emily shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but I’ve always thought it most odd that Grandfather should have thought of employing a personal groom for me. It isn’t the sort of thing that would cross his mind. Come to that, I’m rather surprised he ever considered employing a duenna. I wonder which interfering busybody was responsible for putting such an idiotic notion into his head in the first place?’

As no immediate candidate sprang to mind, Emily didn’t dwell on the conundrum over long, and turned her head to gaze briefly through the French windows at the very pleasing sight of the garden beyond the terrace bathed in bright April sunshine. ‘I do hope the weather remains fair. We can go out riding again tomorrow if it does.’

She turned back in time to catch a faint frown puckering her friend’s brow. ‘What is it, Sarah? You said how much you enjoyed our ride this morning.’

‘Yes, I did,’ she readily confirmed. ‘I haven’t ridden in such a long time. And I should dearly like to join you again, except…except tomorrow I promised Godmama that I would return to the Hall and help with the flower arrangements.’

Emily managed to suppress a snort of derision, but could not resist saying, ‘Oh, Sarah, I despair of you sometimes.’

Grey eyes clearly betrayed puzzlement. ‘But why? There will be plenty of opportunities to go riding while I remain here. I really did enjoy this morning’s exercise, and it was so kind of you to loan me one of your habits.’

‘I’d let you keep the wretched thing if I thought there was the remotest possibility of your making use of it after you return to the Hall.’

Striving to maintain a firm grasp on a temper which sadly could on occasions erupt with quite surprising force, Emily rose to her feet and went to stand before the window. ‘Are you honestly trying to tell me that Lady Deverel and the divine Drusilla, with the help of an army of servants, are incapable of arranging a few vases of flowers?’

‘Of course not. But Godmama considers that I have a flair for such things and particularly requested me to do the flowers for Drusilla’s birthday party.’

‘You are at that confounded family’s beck and call from dawn till dusk!’ Emily exclaimed, not so successful this time in putting a guard on her tongue, and Sarah was clearly surprised by the depth of contempt.

‘But—but I thought you liked the Deverels?’

Emily swung round, determined now to speak her mind. ‘Lady Deverel is undeniably a charming woman, and I do like her, yes. But even you cannot deny she’s dreadfully indolent. I always rubbed along very well with her late husband. But Drusilla’s nothing more than a spoilt beauty, too accustomed to having her own way. And getting it too! And Charles is an utter clodpole for not exerting more authority over his household since coming into the title.’

’emily, how can you say so?’ Sarah retorted, betraying a surprising show of annoyance for someone whose disposition was in general very placid. ‘Charles is a most thoughtful, charming gentleman. He never fails to offer his thanks for the small tasks I perform. And he isn’t a clodpole!’

Not unduly surprised by this display of staunch loyalty on Sarah’s part, Emily turned to stare out of the window once more, thereby concealing a wickedly knowing smile.

She had long since been made aware of the fact that both she and Sarah were considered immensely pretty young ladies by the majority of those living in the locale. Undeniably, when seen together, they made a pleasing contrast: she with her shining, dusky locks; Sarah with her blonde curls. Although neither of them might be considered conventionally beautiful, both had been blessed with regular features and excellent figures, and were handsome enough to win a second glance from the vast majority of masculine eyes. Consequently it was little wonder that their continued single state had given rise to a deal of gossip and speculation in recent years.

For her part, Emily experienced no desire to find herself a husband, and had made no secret of this fact in an attempt to dissuade any would-be suitors foolishly offering for her hand. Four visits to Brighton in as many years had produced several proposals of marriage, all of which she had kindly but firmly refused. Her disinclination to wed, she supposed, might have been easier to understand if she had revealed a dislike of masculine company, but in fact the opposite was true.

She rubbed along remarkably well with her grandfather who, it had to be said, was not the most scintillating company for much of the time, preferring the peace and quiet of his large and well-stocked library, where he could pursue his many and varied hobbies. She was unfailingly gracious to her grandfather’s male friends who visited the house, and was upon friendly terms with them all. Younger men, however, with the possible exception of Sir Charles Deverel, whom she had always regarded as a perfect gentleman, she tended to keep at a distance.

Emily considered that her friend’s continued single state was a little easier for the local gossips to comprehend. Although Sarah came from an old and well-respected family, her parents had not been wealthy and her dowry by all accounts was woefully small. Any discerning gentleman, however, wouldn’t take account of this, for Sarah’s sweet nature and charming manners, coupled with her undeniable ability to run a large household efficiently, certainly went a long way to make up for any lack of fortune.

It was generally felt that it was a great pity that Lady Deverel, having suffered the loss of her husband the previous year, had been obliged to postpone launching her only daughter into Society. It had been Lady Deverel’s intention to include Sarah in the proposed visit to the capital, and many had voiced the belief that both young ladies would have found themselves engaged before the Season was over. Emily, on the other hand, knew better. Although she felt sure that Drusilla, undeniably a beauty, would have had no difficulty in securing herself a suitable husband, she felt equally certain that any proposals which might have come Sarah’s way would have been politely but firmly refused.

Perhaps, she mused, some might consider that Sarah had set her sights too high, and that it would be far more sensible to be practical and encourage the attentions of the local vicar who had been showing a marked interest in her of late, but Emily thought differently. Why should Sarah agree to marry a man she did not love, when there was every chance she might attain her heart’s desire?

Emily turned her attention away from the view beyond the window to discover the angry spots of colour still lingering in her friend’s delicate cheeks. ‘I knew you would be unable to resist coming to your darling Charles’s defence.’ She smiled as the becoming flush deepened. ‘You might have succeeded in concealing your long-standing attachment from the world at large. But you’ve never fooled me.’

All at once Sarah appeared unable to meet that knowing, blue-eyed gaze. ‘I cannot imagine what you mean,’ she announced, delightfully flustered.

Emily’s glance was openly sceptical. ‘Oh, I think you know perfectly well what I mean. You’ve been in love with Charles almost from the moment you went to live at Deverel Hall. Don’t attempt to deny it,’ she added, when Sarah looked about to do just that. ‘I have little difficulty in interpreting the signs, simply because I’ve experienced the emotion myself.

‘Surprised, Sarah?’ Emily’s shout of laughter contained precious little mirth. ‘Yes, I can see you are. Clearly I’m far more adept at concealment than you.’

Sarah gazed across at her dearest friend in dawning wonder. ‘You—you’ve been in love, Em? You’ve never said anything before.’

‘It isn’t something I care to think about too often, let alone talk about,’ she admitted. ‘Even after several years I still find it painful.’

Sarah frowned. ‘You must have been very young.’

‘I was. But then I’d loved Sebastian Hawkridge all my life. I simply adored him when I was a child, used to follow him about everywhere. He was our nearest neighbour, and my mother’s godson.’

‘What happened?’ Sarah asked gently, and for a moment thought she was destined to learn nothing further.

But then Emily said, ‘As you know, when I was fifteen my mother insisted that I spend a year at that seminary in Bath. At the time, I assumed she did so because I was something of a tomboy, behaving in a less than commendable fashion on occasions. I realise now of course that the real reason was because she knew she was dying. During my visits home, she succeeded in concealing her illness remarkably well, but when I returned permanently, after the year at school, I realised just how ill she was. She didn’t wish me to come and live here. She had always been very fond of her father-in-law, but considered him totally unsuitable to look after a sixteen-year-old girl. But she judged Sebastian, almost nine years my senior, more than capable. What she didn’t know, and I discovered quite by chance, only a matter of a few months before she died, was that Seb was in love with someone else. Even so, he willingly agreed to marry me. The engagement was strictly private, and known to very few, and the wedding had been arranged for late August. But my mother’s death, quite naturally, changed everything.’

Although she had spoken without betraying any of the searing hurt which even now could well up at a moment’s notice, Emily was unable to suppress a heartfelt sigh. ‘I went to see my betrothed, a week after my mother’s funeral, and told him I couldn’t go through with the wedding, that I had only agreed to marry him because my mother had been so set on the idea. I said that I thought I was too young to know my own mind, and that I would much prefer to live with my grandfather than marry.’

‘And the gentleman in question believed you?’

‘Oh, yes—he believed me. And I haven’t set eyes on him since the day he came to see me off in my grandfather’s carriage, although he continues to write to me from time to time.’

‘Oh, Em. I’m so sorry.’ No one could have doubted Sarah’s sympathy. ‘I had no idea. And did your former fiancé marry the woman he loved?’

‘Sadly, no. And I have often speculated on why not. Perhaps he considered, as she was engaged by that time, that it was too late to offer himself as a candidate for her hand, and things were better left as they were. She married a certain Baronet a few weeks after I came to live with Grandfather. I had thought that Sebastian might meet another young woman who would capture his interest, but seemingly he has not. In fact since coming into his title he appears, if what the gossip columns contain is true, to have acquired rather rakish habits.’ She gave a shout of laughter. ‘What a lucky escape I had!’

Sarah frowned. ‘But if he hasn’t met anyone else, Emily, perhaps he still retains a sincere regard for you.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he does. If we had married, I’m certain too we’d have rubbed along together quite wonderfully well. Unfortunately I was, and still am for that matter, far too proud to figure as second-best in any man’s life, merely a substitute for what he really wanted.’

Emily waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘I have yet to meet anyone who could take Sebastian’s place in my heart and I doubt I ever shall. My case is hopeless, I fear. But yours isn’t.’ Eyes which had been dimmed by sadness and bitter regrets were unexpectedly brightened by a hint of mischief. ‘Charles, I honestly suspect, cares more deeply for you than he realises. All you need to do is be patient and wait. I’m certain eventually he will come to appreciate the depths of his own feelings.’

‘I’m afraid my case too is hopeless. I know Charles is very fond of me, but I have little to offer him.’

‘You underrate yourself,’ Emily countered. ‘What’s more, you and Charles are perfectly suited. You are both easygoing souls, happy to live a quiet country life. All Charles really wants is a comfortable home which is run efficiently. And who better to fill his needs than you? After all, you’ve been doing precisely that since you went to live at Deverel Hall.’

Sarah smiled wanly. ‘I know I could make him happy, if only…’

‘Don’t abandon hope,’ Emily warned gently. ‘It will create a void that nothing can fill. Believe me, I know.’

Although Emily and Sarah were blissfully unaware of the fact, the subjects under discussion were only a few miles from Deverel Hall. The journey from the capital had been made in record time, and in immense comfort, owing to the fact that they had travelled in the well-sprung travelling carriage belonging to Lord Hawkridge.

‘I must say, Seb,’ Charles Deverel remarked, drawing his gaze away from the pleasing sight of very familiar landscape flashing past the window, ‘I’m glad we consigned our valets and baggage to my carriage and made the trip in yours. This is a superb turnout you have here. Never had such a comfortable journey in my life!’

‘It is merely one of the benefits of becoming the head of the family, dear boy, as you very well know,’ was the languid response.

Charles regarded his friend in silence. Like most of Lord Hawkridge’s close friends, he knew that Sebastian had been entirely contented living the comfortable life of a wealthy country gentleman in the fine property his father had left him in Hampshire, where he had been happy to indulge his passion for outdoor pursuits. Which made his drastically altered lifestyle in recent years somewhat hard to comprehend.

From what Charles understood, his friend now seemed to spend most of his time in the capital, accepting invitations to a seemingly endless round of parties, balls and soirées, and indulging in various dalliances with a number of society beauties, as well as enjoying more intimate relationships with several notorious Cyprians. On the surface it appeared that he had changed out of all recognition, but Charles couldn’t help thinking that deep down he was still the same solid, reliable and trustworthy fellow he had known during those years at Oxford.

‘I must say, Seb, I was rather surprised that you changed your mind and decided to honour our little affair down here with your presence. It won’t be one of those spectacularly lavish and fashionable parties you’ve grown accustomed to attending in recent years—just a small, informal do with a few close friends and neighbours.’

Lord Hawkridge held his friend’s slightly troubled gaze levelly. ‘Do you imagine I’ve grown so high in the instep that I think myself above attending a country party?’

‘Not a bit of it!’ Charles hurriedly assured him. ‘Fact of the matter is I’m surprised that you seem to spend most of your time in the capital these days.’

‘And that is precisely why I decided it was time for a change.’

Once again Charles regarded his companion in silence, before saying, ‘You never wished for the title did you, old fellow? In my case it was different, of course. I was raised for the express purpose of stepping into my sire’s boots when the time came.’

Lord Hawkridge reached into the pocket of his immaculate jacket, which clearly betrayed the hand of a master tailor, and drew out a snuffbox. ‘No,’ he admitted, after sampling its contents. ‘Both of my cousins losing their lives in that boating accident came as a shock. But as I was next in line I was given little choice in the matter. During the past few years I’ve grown accustomed to losing those whom I hold most dear. That is why I now live life to the full. One never knows just when the Grim Reaper might come knocking on one’s door. He can be quite indiscriminate and appears to choose those who are most undeserving to have their lives cut short.’

Charles wasn’t slow to understand. ‘You’re thinking of dear old Simon, aren’t you?’

‘Among others, yes,’ his lordship admitted.

‘The authorities never discovered who held up the coach, stole the necklace and killed poor Elizabeth, did they?’

‘No.’

Charles shook his head sadly. ‘Poor Simon, he never recovered from his wife’s death.’

‘No, he never did,’ Lord Hawkridge confirmed. ‘Had I known what he intended to do that night, I would have taken steps to prevent him. The loss of the necklace meant nothing to him; Elizabeth meant everything. But he might have recovered in time.’

The bitter regret in the deep, attractive voice was not hard to detect. ‘Surely you don’t hold yourself in any way to blame?’ Charles enquired. ‘How could you possibly have guessed that poor Simon meant to put a bullet through his brain?’

There was a bitter set now to his lordship’s generous mouth. ‘One is always left wondering if one could have done more.’

‘Put it from your mind,’ Charles urged him, as the carriage slowed to turn into Deverel Hall’s impressive gateway. ‘Ah, we’re here! Let us hope the ladies have everything organised. At least I know I can always rely on Sarah.’

As Lord Hawkridge had no idea to whom his friend was referring he refrained from comment, and merely accompanied Charles into the well-proportioned Restoration mansion which put him in mind of the ancestral home he had inherited in Kent, both buildings having been designed and constructed by the same architect.

Although he had known Charles for more than a decade, Sebastian had never visited the Deverels’ country estate before. Nor, apart from the late Sir Augustus Deverel who, unlike his son, had enjoyed paying regular visits to the capital, had he met any other member of the family.

His lordship’s address was excellent, and in recent years had been polished to such a degree that he had little difficulty in flattering the most formidable matrons. Consequently it was a simple matter to bring a tinge of colour to the plump cheeks of the Dowager Lady Deverel whose faint claim to beauty had long since faded.

He had no need to flatter the golden-haired girl seated beside her mother, for she was undoubtedly a diamond of the first water and, unless he much mistook the matter, Miss Drusilla Deverel knew this very well.

‘I apologise, ma’am, if my unexpected arrival has inconvenienced you in any way,’ he remarked, returning his attention to the Dowager, before lowering his tall frame into the chair positioned directly opposite the sofa on which the ladies were seated.

‘Not at all, sir. Two of Drusilla’s friends can easily share a room. Most of our guests are not arriving until tomorrow. But we are expecting several to turn up later today, so I can safely promise some jolly company at dinner.’

‘You sound as if everything is well in hand for the party, Mama,’ Charles remarked, drawing her attention away from the gentleman whose name she had mentally added to the list of those whom she would be very happy to call son-in-law.

‘Oh, yes, dear. Everything is arranged.’

‘And no thanks to Sarah,’ Drusilla put in petulantly, the result of which, her mother noticed, not only brought a swift look of disapproval to her son’s handsome face, but unfortunately drew a slight frown to the very eligible Baron’s intelligent brow.

‘That is hardly fair, dear,’ she countered swiftly. ‘You’ve Sarah to thank for arranging almost everything. And she was even kind enough to give up her room so that you could invite more people than was originally planned.’

‘What’s this?’ her son demanded, suddenly alert. ‘I thought we’d agreed that in the circumstances it was to be only a small affair?’

‘Well, yes, Charles, we did. But you must remember that poor Drusilla has had to forgo the pleasures of a Season. And when we began to make a list of those we knew we simply must invite, the numbers just seemed to swell.’

‘How many have you invited?’ he demanded, frowning suspiciously.

‘One hundred and fifty,’ Drusilla enlightened him, looking very well pleased. ‘It will be a splendid party, not the shabby little affair you had planned, Charles.’

Sebastian, quietly sipping the wine which the butler had kindly handed him, couldn’t resist smiling to himself. Somewhere at the back of his mind he seemed to remember Charles mentioning once that his mother had suffered several miscarriages after having given birth to him, and more than a decade had passed before she had been successfully delivered of another healthy child. Little wonder, then, he mused, that the long awaited second offspring had been cosseted and indulged from birth. It was clear that even now the beauty of the house was all too frequently allowed to have her way; a sorry state of affairs which her brother, if his expression was any indication, would very much like to rectify.

‘Let me remind you, Drusilla, that our father has been dead for less than a year. I consider it in extremely bad taste to hold such a large party, although I suppose it’s far too late to do anything about it now.’

‘Much too late,’ his mother agreed. ‘And you mustn’t concern yourself, Charles. The event might be grander than first planned, but Drusilla knows that she must behave with propriety and not dance.’

Although Sebastian noted the beauty’s resentful expression, her brother evidently did not, for he changed the subject by asking, ‘Where is Sarah, by the way?’

If anything Drusilla appeared even more resentful. ‘She’s staying with the Stapletons. And just when we need her here the most!’

‘Well, you can hardly blame her, my love,’ Lady Deverel soothed. ‘I myself did not quite like the notion of the dear girl sleeping in one of the attic rooms.’

‘What’s this?’ Charles fixed a reproachful look in his mother’s direction. ‘Surely you didn’t expect Sarah to sleep with the servants?’

‘Of course not, dear,’ Lady Deverel swiftly assured him. ‘Sarah herself very obligingly offered to give up her bedchamber, and I was more than happy for her to stay with her friend for a few days, rather than move to one of the attic rooms.’

Sebastian noticed the look of disapproval lingering in his friend’s eyes. As he himself had been an only child, he had never been plagued by troublesome siblings or family squabbles. The closest he had ever come to having a sister was his cousin Caroline, who had been a frequent visitor to his Hampshire home in her childhood.

He had accepted this invitation to stay at the Hall with the gravest misgivings, for he had made a point, since coming into the title, of never accepting invitations to houses where a daughter of marriageable age resided, for the simple reason that seeking a suitable bride had never once entered his thoughts, and he had tried his utmost to avoid raising false hopes in any fond mama’s breast. All the same, he was beginning to think that, apart from the serious aspect of this visit, it might well prove to be an amusing diversion putting up with the Deverels.

Whether or not he would derive the same amount of pleasure out of coming into contact with a certain other young lady again, only time would tell.

Chapter Three

The following day, as she was crossing the hall, Emily noticed the letters collected from the receiving office that morning lying on the table. There was one for herself from a friend whom she had made while attending that seminary for a year, and with whom she corresponded on a regular basis, and there were two for her grandfather.

Slipping her own missive into the pocket of her gown to read later, she carried her grandfather’s letters into the library, where she discovered him, as expected, seated behind his desk, metal-rimmed spectacles perched on the tip of his thin nose, avidly studying a musty old tome. As he made no attempt to raise his head to discover who had invaded the privacy of his sanctum, Emily availed herself of the opportunity to study him for a moment, unobserved.

Silver-grey hair swept back from a high forehead that clearly betrayed the intelligence of a man who throughout his life had made many sound investments which had enabled him to live very comfortably indeed, and pursue his many and varied hobbies. His vagueness, as she well knew, was merely a ruse, a means by which he could acquire the solitude he valued so highly. He was essentially a very private gentleman who preferred his own company, but he also enjoyed the companionship of his particular friends from time to time, and was not averse, on the odd occasion, to attending some large social event.

Which was perhaps just as well, Emily reflected, as she moved further into the room, because he was going to be obliged to mix with a large crowd this evening, if what Sarah had divulged was true. ‘Finn called at the receiving office after he had taken Sarah over to the Hall in the carriage, Grandfather, and there are two letters here for you,’ she informed him, placing the missives on the edge of a desk littered with papers, and numerous objects of no practical use whatsoever.

Lined with musty-smelling books, and various stuffed birds glaring down from the glass cases positioned on the various shelves, the whole room, not just the desk, was an absolute shambles. It was only ever dusted two or three times a year, and then only in the Honourable John Stapleton’s presence, so that he could be certain nothing was moved. It had to be said, however, that in general he knew precisely where to lay his hands on any particular book or document. It was acknowledged too that he was a fount of wisdom, knowing a great deal about numerous subjects.

As he didn’t attempt to speak, Emily cast her eyes along one row of thick, leather-bound books, before her gaze strayed to a particularly fearsome-looking specimen in one of the glass cases on the shelf above. ‘Grandfather, you know a deal about birds.’ This succeeded in winning her a brief glance. ‘Are there any ravens in Kempton Wood?’

‘Never seen any myself. Plenty of rooks there. Why do you ask?’

She shrugged. ‘Oh, no reason really. I just recall someone mentioning that he’d seen a raven there, that was all.’

‘Might have done.’ Surprisingly she had succeeded in winning his full attention. ‘Seem to remember that at one time it was known as Ravens Wood. Here, pass me that map in the box over there—the longest one, this end.’

Thus adjured, Emily collected the map, and then handed it to her grandfather to unroll and spread out on top of the papers on his desk. ‘There, what did I tell you,’ he announced, prodding a spot on the map with one bony finger. ‘Now, let me see…Ah, yes! This map was printed in 1715. So it was known as Ravens Wood less than a century ago.’

‘I wonder what made them change the name?’ Emily asked, perching herself on the edge of the desk, the better to check the detail for herself.

‘Names of places sometimes change, child. And Kempton itself has grown considerably in size during the past one hundred years. Perhaps the inhabitants thought the wood ought to be called after their town.’

‘Yes, possibly,’ she agreed, before her eyes strayed once again to the fearsome creature peering down at her from its glass cage. ‘Do you happen to know anything about kestrels, grandfather? Is that one up there?’

He followed the direction of her gaze. ‘No, that’s a sparrow hawk. That’s a kestrel, up there in the cabinet on the end. They’re both birds of prey. Why do you ask? And why all this interest in birds all of a sudden?’

‘Oh, no reason really.’

‘In that case, if there’s no purpose to your incessant questions, you can go away and leave me to continue with my studying. And get off my desk, child! You’ll make a mess of my papers!’

‘Ha!’ was all the response he attained from his undutiful granddaughter, though she did as bidden and went over to the door. ‘By the by, you haven’t forgotten that it’s the party tonight? I’ve instructed Budd to lay out your evening attire.’

‘No, of course I haven’t forgotten!’ he responded testily. ‘Now go away, child, and talk to that pretty friend of yours, and leave me in peace.’

‘I would willingly do so if she had returned from the Hall. All the same, Grandfather, consider me gone.’

As Sarah was kept busy at Deverel Hall for much of the day, Emily was not destined to see her again until that evening, shortly before they were due to set off for the party, when Sarah, having managed to get herself ready remarkably swiftly, and appearing as if she had spent hours over the task, entered Emily’s bedchamber.

For a few moments Emily studied her through the dressing-table mirror, where she sat adding the finishing touches to her own toilette. She had never seen her friend so charmingly attired. The pink silk enhanced her fair prettiness, and the few fashionable touches added by Sarah herself were so skilfully incorporated into the ensemble that anyone might be forgiven for supposing that the gown had come directly from some famous Bond Street modiste.

‘You look lovely, Sarah,’ she announced, wondering what Charles himself would think when he saw his staunch supporter so fashionably dressed. ‘Where did you acquire the silk shawl?’

‘Lady Deverel presented it to me just before I left the house, and this new pair of evening gloves. She said they were a little something for all the hard work I’d done. I felt so guilty taking them. After all, she did very kindly purchase the material for my new dress.’

It would have afforded Emily the utmost pleasure to voice her opinion of that lady’s so-called benevolence. However, given the fact that if Sarah attained her heart’s desire, Lady Deverel would become her mother-in-law, she refrained, and merely remarked that Drusilla’s attire undoubtedly cost a great deal more.

After donning the pearl necklace and matching earrings that had once belonged to her mother, Emily rose from the chair, revealing that her own appearance left nothing to be desired. From the arrangement of her dusky locks, which young Amy, although by no stretch of the imagination a competent lady’s maid, had managed to arrange in a simple yet pleasing style, to her satin slippers, she looked every inch the fashionable young lady.

‘That blue silk certainly emphasises the colour of your eyes,’ Sarah remarked. ‘You look stunning.’

Emily flashed her a rather mischievous smile. ‘Well, we must do our poor best to offer Drusilla a little competition, mustn’t we? We cannot have her monopolising all the beaux.’ She took a moment to study her overall appearance in the full-length mirror. ‘I amaze myself sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘Six years ago, I didn’t give a hoot how I looked, but now I wouldn’t dream of leaving the house less than perfectly groomed. I doubt any of my old Hampshire neighbours would recognise me now.’

‘I think perhaps one of them would,’ was the soft rejoinder.

Emily was not slow to detect the change in her friend’s demeanour. ‘Why, you’re looking very serious all of a sudden! Whatever’s the matter?’

For a second or two Sarah appeared to find the toes of her soft pink slippers of immense interest, then she said quietly, ‘When I was over at the Hall today, I discovered that Charles had returned the previous afternoon with a friend of his from London…Lord Hawkridge.’

Only for an instant did Emily check before sliding her fingers into her long evening gloves. ‘I have been acquainted with the Deverels for almost five years, and yet I never realised that Charles knew Hawk. Dear me. Life is full of surprises! Grandfather, I do not doubt, will be delighted to see him.’

‘And you?’ Sarah prompted gently.

Emily’s shrug of indifference was not wholly convincing. ‘I suppose our paths were bound to cross again sooner or later. The aunt I visit in Brighton each summer is planning to take her eldest daughter to London next spring, and was hoping I would join them. I felt that, if I did go, I would be certain to bump into Sebastian at some point. The meeting has come a little earlier than expected, that is all. Come, let us repair downstairs. We don’t want to leave Grandfather waiting.’

Throughout the short journey to the Hall, Emily was acutely aware of Sarah’s keen regard. And how clever of her not to be fooled! she mused, desperately striving to maintain at least the appearance of the self-possession that she was far from experiencing.

She could quite easily, she supposed, have feigned a sore head and declined to attend the party at the last moment. But that was a coward’s way out, and it simply wasn’t in her nature to behave like a frightened child and run away from unpleasant situations. Added to which it stood to reason that, as he was in the area, Sebastian would pay a visit to the house sooner or later, if not to see her then at least to pay his respects to her grandfather. Surely it was better to come face to face with him this first time, after so many years, in a crowded room, where she would be obliged to exchange a few brief words, and could easily escape by mixing with the other guests, than go through the agony of seeing him alone, where the strain of attempting to hide her continuing regard for him might prove just too much even for her? She wasn’t so foolish as to suppose that it would be easy to keep those more tender feelings well hidden, especially from someone who had never evinced the least difficulty in reading her moods, but she knew she must endeavour to make the attempt.

Their arrival at the Hall coincided with that of several other neighbours, and they had perforce to await their turn before alighting at the impressive front entrance. The Restoration mansion looked as fine as it had on those occasions years before when Sir Augustus and Lady Deverel had entertained lavishly. Emily could fully appreciate now why her friend had been absent for much of the day, for there seemed to be a vase of flowers, beautifully arranged, and exuding the most delightful fragrance, on every available table in the spacious hall; and many, many more, she swiftly discovered, were decorating the large salon where the party was being held.

For a few brief moments she was able to set aside her own concerns as she stood in line to greet the host and hostess, and noticed Charles’s eyes widen a fraction when they fell upon Sarah. The Dowager Lady Deverel, standing beside her handsome son, greeted each member of the party graciously, and even Drusilla, looking positively radiant in a dazzling creation of white gauze over satin, was prompted to remark upon the elegance of both Sarah’s and Emily’s gowns.

‘Would I be correct in supposing that Drusilla has been warned to be on her best behaviour this evening?’ Emily remarked in an undertone, as they quickly moved away from the entrance in order to allow the next party of guests to greet their host and hostess, and her grandfather had made directly for the masculine company to be found in the room set out for cards.

Sarah couldn’t forbear a smile. ‘I could not say with certainty. But I do know that Charles was not best pleased to discover that the affair was to be far grander than first planned. Furthermore, you must give Drusilla her due. She might be terribly spoilt, but she’s definitely no fool. It is her ambition to make a truly splendid match, and showing a sulky face to the polite world isn’t likely to attract many contenders for her hand. I believe she has set her sights quite high—a countess, no less, although Godmama mentioned earlier, when I was here, that her daughter is rather taken with your Lord Hawkridge.’

‘He isn’t my Lord Hawkridge,’ Emily countered, hoping that she hadn’t sounded waspish, but fearing from her friend’s suddenly guilt-ridden expression that she had. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. As you might have guessed already I am a trifle on edge this evening.’

The fingers of her left hand received a brief, reassuring squeeze as Emily raised her eyes and looked about the room for that tall, well-remembered figure. She didn’t immediately perceive him standing amidst a group of gentlemen in the far corner of the room. It was only when he turned his head and she received the full impact of an unwavering gaze from all too perceptive grey eyes that she realised that the gentleman immaculately attired in a long-tailed black coat, which emphasised the breadth of superb masculine shoulders, and tight-fitting trousers, which did little to hide the muscular shapeliness of long legs, was none other than the being who continued to plague her dreams all too frequently even after all these years.

‘Oh, dear God! He’s coming over,’ she muttered, striving to control the sudden pounding of that erratic organ beneath her ribcage. ‘Why couldn’t the wretched creature have allowed me at least a few minutes in order to compose myself?’

Although Emily had finally revealed her true state of mind, Sarah wouldn’t have supposed for a moment that the young woman beside her was suffering the least distress, for on the surface she appeared remarkably composed, extending a steady hand, which was immediately captured and retained in shapely fingers, and greeting the man whom she had never ceased to love without so much as a tremor in her pleasantly mellow voice.

‘Hello, Em,’ he responded in a deep, throaty tone that was no less appealing than the smile he bestowed upon her, before glancing briefly in Sarah’s direction.

Emily, quite beautifully maintaining her control, was not slow to perform the introductions. ‘I do not believe you are acquainted with my friend Miss Nichols, Lord Hawkridge.’

‘No, I have not had the pleasure,’ he admitted, releasing Emily’s fingers in order to clasp Sarah’s small hand briefly in his own.

‘You were out when I arrived at the house, sir,’ she hurriedly remarked in an attempt to hold his attention and allow Emily time to take a few steadying breaths. ‘You had driven over to see Sir George Maynard, I believe.’

‘I didn’t realise that you were acquainted with our local magistrate, Hawk,’ Emily commented, easily regaining his full attention.

‘Oh, we’ve bumped into each other on a few occasions at our club, don’t you know.’

Sarah detected her friend’s slight frown at the drawled response, but was unable to remain to offer further support, for Lady Deverel was attempting to catch her eye, and she was obliged to slip away.

‘Pretty girl,’ his lordship remarked, taking out his snuffbox, and receiving a second frowning glance. ‘What’s wrong, Em?’ he asked as deep blue eyes looked him over from the carefully dishevelled arrangement of his mid-brown locks down to his fashionably clad feet. ‘Don’t I pass muster?’

To her amazement Emily found herself experiencing an acute stab of disappointment at the needless affectations he appeared to have acquired during their long separation. ‘I strongly suspect that those tales I’ve been reading about you in the newspapers in recent years are all too true. Be careful, Hawk, that you do not turn yourself into a complete man-milliner.’

Only for a second did his eyes narrow fractionally, before he returned the small silver box, its contents untouched, to his pocket. ‘You too have changed, m’dear.’ His gaze lingered for a moment on the square-cut neckline of her dress and what it temptingly revealed. ‘You have blossomed into a woman.’

Emily was powerless to prevent the tell-tale colour rising in her cheeks. She did not like this Sebastian Hawkridge. No, not a whit! The man she well remembered had been no tailor’s dummy, nor had he possessed the knowing gaze of the hardened rake. She had always felt so safe, so secure whenever he had been with her. She felt anything but safe now in the company of a man who might easily have been a complete stranger.

‘Yes, Lord Hawkridge, I fear we have both changed.’

‘In your case, m’dear, the changes are most definitely for the better. You have become a most elegant young lady.’

‘And you, sir, have become an accomplished flirt,’ she parried lightly in an attempt to conceal her rapidly mounting disappointment. ‘You’ll be telling me next that I’m the most beautiful girl in the room.’

The crooked half-smile which she remembered so well was suddenly tugging at one corner of his shapely mouth. ‘Oh, no, my dear. You may have altered during our years apart, but not, I strongly suspect, to the extent that you are susceptible to insincere flattery. Miss Drusilla Deverel has the edge in the looks department, as you well know,’ he returned, with that admirable candour which she had always admired.

‘That’s better,’ he announced, with a further easy smile, when she found it impossible to suppress a chuckle. ‘Now, before that young man who is purposefully heading in our direction whisks you away, would you grant me the pleasure of calling upon you tomorrow? I’ve been hearing some wonderful tales about you startling the populace by tooling yourself about the countryside in a curricle. Perhaps you might even be gracious enough to take me up beside you?’

‘Of course,’ she responded without considering the wisdom of her answer. But it was already too late to change her mind. The son of a near neighbour was standing before her requesting her as a partner in the next set of country dances, and Lord Hawkridge, after executing a graceful bow, chose not to linger.

Although far more successful in concealing the fact, Sebastian had been equally disturbed by this their first meeting in a very long time. The years he had spent in London perfecting the role of a wealthy, pleasure-seeking care-for-nobody had certainly stood him in good stead for just such an occasion as this. But it had not been easy to maintain the impersonation where Emily was concerned, even for those few short minutes.

When last he had seen her she had been scarcely more than a girl, coltish and slightly awkward, but the intervening years had wrought many changes. ‘Blossomed’ was the word which best described it, he decided, relieving a footman of a glass of champagne, and positioning himself beside the wall, where a huge vase of flowers partially concealed him from those taking part in the dance. Yes, Mother Nature had certainly performed her task well where Miss Emily Stapleton was concerned, bestowing upon her delightful feminine curves, and finely honing the delicate features into perfect symmetry.

But had all the changes been purely superficial? he could not help wondering, as he keenly followed her graceful progress down the set. Or had she matured mentally too? First impressions would suggest strongly that she had. Was the time now right for him to honour the pledge that he had made to the late Laura Stapleton? Should he attempt to woo her daughter in earnest? More importantly, could he afford to wait any longer? It would be madness to assume that, just because Emily had betrayed no interest in any gentleman during their years apart, she would continue to remain content with her single state. Another Season in Brighton with her late mother’s sister was looming large on the horizon. Then afterwards perhaps London might beckon, where numerous gentlemen bent on making the leap into matrimony would look very favourably upon such a sweetly packaged piece of merchandise. Time, clearly, was no longer on his side. She was the only female to whom he had ever proposed marriage, and against all the odds she had rescinded. Was he really prepared to risk the possibility of experiencing the humiliation and pain of rejection a second time? His mind might advocate the use of caution, and yet…

Smiling to himself, Sebastian carried his wine across to the room set out for cards. For tonight his head would continue to rule his heart. But for how much longer acumen could persist in winning the battle over desires if he remained in this locale was anybody’s guess!

Chapter Four

Understandably enough, Sarah’s conversation at the breakfast table the following morning was all of the party, and how enjoyable it had been. Even John Stapleton surprisingly expressed his pleasure in the evening, before he sought the quiet confines of his library. Only Emily, it seemed, had been less than favourably impressed. She had arrived at Deverel Hall experiencing the gravest misgivings at the prospect of coming face to face with Lord Hawkridge. Yet a few hours later, when she had left in the carriage, she had felt nothing so much as acute resentment over his behaviour towards her.

Not once, throughout the entire evening, had he taken the trouble to ask her to dance. What was worse, he hadn’t attempted to seek her company a second time. Yet on several occasions throughout the evening she had seen him moving gracefully about the dance floor, while entertaining his various partners with his light-hearted banter. Moreover, he had been among those besotted fops who had languished at Drusilla Deverel’s pretty feet.

But why should she care? Emily wondered, desperately striving to convince herself that she was not suffering from that most unpleasant emotion—jealousy. It stood to reason that, now he had come into the title, Sebastian would one day be obliged to take the matrimonial plunge if only to beget an heir. When he had proposed to her he had been just plain Mr Hawkridge, and she had much preferred that man. The person she remembered, sincere and reliable, bore little resemblance to the male mannequin whose concerns undoubtedly didn’t rise above the set of his neck-cloth or the arrangement of his locks. Yet just once, when they had spoken together, she had believed she had glimpsed the Sebastian Hawkridge of old.

Perhaps she had imagined it, though, she decided, automatically rising from the table to help Sarah and Mrs Budd clear away the breakfast dishes. The man of whom she had thought so highly had been far too discerning, far too astute to be beguiled by a lovely face. He would have had little difficulty in recognising the selfish conceit lurking beneath Drusilla Deverel’s beautiful façade. She shook her head, at a complete loss to understand what had happened to him. Was it possible for someone’s nature to change so much in the space of a few short years? Yes, perhaps it was, she decided, after a moment’s consideration. All the same, she could not rid herself of the niggling suspicion that the manner he had adopted at the party had been something of an act.

‘Are you going out this morning, Miss Emily?’

Startled out of her reverie by the housekeeper’s enquiry, Emily recalled the foolish promise she had made and was now obliged to keep.

‘Unfortunately, yes, Budd,’ she responded testily, which induced Sarah and the housekeeper to exchange startled glances, for they both knew how much she enjoyed being out in the fresh air. ‘Would you be kind enough to ask Amy to go across to the stables and inform Finn that I require the curricle in half an hour.’

Silently cursing herself for taking the trouble to entertain someone who appeared to have had little difficulty in ignoring her very existence, not just last night, but for the past five years, while conveniently forgetting that his lordship had never once failed to send her a present on her birthday, Emily begrudgingly took herself back upstairs to change her attire, and was in the process of tying the strings of her bonnet, when Amy entered the bedchamber to inform her that both Lord Hawkridge and Sir Charles Deverel had arrived at the house.

Although still consumed by biting resentment, Emily did not delay in making her way down to the parlour to discover Sarah there too, dressed in her outdoor clothes. The faint hope that Lord Hawkridge might have called to cancel the planned outing was quickly dashed, but her spirits revived when Sir Charles announced his intention of joining the outing and taking Sarah up beside him.

‘You look remarkably well pleased about something,’ his lordship commented, attaching himself to Emily the instant they stepped out of doors.

She was, but she had no intention of admitting to it, especially not to the man whose conduct she found increasingly puzzling, for today he had dropped that annoyingly affected drawl, and was more casually attired, seeming far more like the Sebastian Hawkridge of old.

‘I feel that there’s more than just a touch of spring in the air today,’ she responded lightly. ‘Why shouldn’t I be pleased?’

‘Yes, I must agree. Spring, it appears, is nipping at a few people this year.’

Emily looked up at him sharply, noting the glint in his eyes before he turned to watch Charles assisting Sarah into the phaeton, and wondered for a moment what he had meant, before deciding that he, like herself, must have observed the attention Charles had paid his cousin at the party. It was without doubt the only satisfying aspect of the entire evening, especially when Charles had made a point of dancing with Sarah. Which was more than the man beside her had requested her to do! Resentment reared its ugly head again, and it was as much as Emily could do to stop herself from slapping his hand away when he politely assisted her into the carriage.

‘There’s no need for you to come along, Finn,’ Lord Hawkridge announced, clambering up into the seat beside her. ‘I’m capable of taking care of your young mistress.’

Emily could hardly believe her ears, and almost found herself gaping in astonishment. What a crass nerve to be giving instructions to her servants! she inwardly fumed, and was not reluctant to give voice to her annoyance.

Sebastian regarded her for a moment in silence, noting the angry set of the determined little chin, as she gave the bays the office to start. ‘I’m sorry, Em,’ he apologised softly. ‘I took it for granted that you wouldn’t require your groom’s presence. I didn’t take into account that you might have become nervous in my company.’

‘Of course I’m not nervous!’ she snapped, before something struck her as odd. ‘And how came you to know my groom’s name, may I ask?’

A moment’s silence then, ‘I was speaking with your grandfather last night. I suppose he must have mentioned it then. He spoke highly of Finn, as I remember. Said that he went everywhere with you.’

Having by this time regained control over her temper, Emily could only wonder at herself for losing it so easily in the first place. It simply wasn’t like her to take a pet over mere trifles, and behave like some overindulged child who had been thwarted. Unfortunately she had never experienced the least reluctance in giving full rein to her feelings when in Sebastian’s company, and old habits, it seemed, were hard to break.

‘Yes, he does,’ she confirmed, striving to concentrate on her horses, and ignore the warmth exuding from that powerful frame too closely positioned beside her in the seat. ‘Grandfather engaged him shortly after I came to live in his house. I must confess I resented it at first, not being allowed to go out on my own, but I’ve grown accustomed,’ she admitted. ‘Not that I think his presence is necessary. Nothing ever happens down here.’

‘That isn’t what I’ve heard,’ he countered, swift as a flash. ‘I understood you came upon a body, lying in the road, not so very long ago.’

Emily didn’t attempt to hide her surprise. ‘How on earth did you discover that? I don’t believe Grandfather told you. I doubt he even recalls the incident.’

‘No, it was Sir George Maynard, as it happens. I believe I mentioned I called to see him yesterday. When he discovered I was acquainted with you, it—er—came up in the conversation.’ Sebastian paused to study the delicate profile once more. ‘It must have been very distressing for you, Em.’

‘It certainly wasn’t a pleasant experience,’ she admitted. ‘He came stumbling out of Kempton Wood, just a little further along this road. I thought I’d hit him at first, but then I discovered he’d been shot.’

‘He wasn’t dead, then, when you found him?’

‘No, but he died shortly afterwards. At first Finn thought it might be a trap, but we didn’t see anyone else about. The man appeared to have sustained a beating before he was shot. The attack must have occurred sometime before we came along. None of us heard a firearm being discharged.’ Emily drew the curricle to a halt as they arrived at the spot where the incident occurred. ‘Somehow, though, the poor devil managed to summon up sufficient strength to get himself as far as the road. It was just about here.’

His lordship took a moment to gaze about him, before asking, ‘And he didn’t give a clue as to his own identity, or the identity of his assailants?’

It was at that moment, as she watched those shrewd grey eyes continue to scan the woodland off to the left, that it occurred to Emily that he was betraying an uncommon interest, and that perhaps far more lay behind the seemingly innocent questions than mere idle curiosity. ‘No, he didn’t. Why do you ask?’

When finally he returned his attention to her, there was something oddly disturbing in his gaze. ‘Would it surprise you to know that I still concern myself about you? If there is a lawless gang in the area, preying on the occasional hapless traveller, I shouldn’t wish for you to become the next victim. You are still very…precious to me, Em.’

She swallowed in an attempt to rid herself of the painful ache which had suddenly attacked her throat, and hurriedly turned her head to stare at the road ahead, lest her expression betray the depth of feeling she still retained for him. ‘I thank you for your concern, sir,’ she said at length, relieved to discover that her voice at least remained steady, ‘but I think in this case your anxiety is misplaced. I have not heard of any other such incidents in the locale in recent months. Besides which, I do not personally believe that he was set upon by scoundrels, bent on relieving him of any valuables he might have been carrying. I strongly suspect that he was killed for a completely different reason.’

Suddenly aware that Charles’s phaeton was some distance ahead, Emily instructed her bays to move off, and they were soon bowling along at a smart pace, proving to Sebastian that she could handle the team well, her hands light but in full control.

‘What makes you suppose that?’ he enquired, when she had successfully caught up with their friends and could concentrate once more on something other than her horses.

‘Oh, because of something he said to me before he died,’ she answered, having little difficulty in picking up the threads of their former conversation. ‘It didn’t make much sense at the time, but I’m beginning to think that it was some sort of code.’

‘Sounds mysterious,’ he declared, as they reached the outskirts of the thriving market town.

‘Yes, it is rather. He uttered three things before he died—kestrel, raven, 16th at midnight. Ravens Wood just happens to be the old name for Kempton Wood. It’s my belief he wanted “The Kestrel” to be in the wood tonight at midnight. But as I’ve no idea who this “Kestrel” might be, he’s destined, I fear, to miss the assignation.’

‘Yes, so it would seem,’ he agreed, sounding faintly bored with the subject now. ‘Ahh! It would appear that Charles has decided to stop for refreshments at the inn. Shall we be hospitable and join them? Then perhaps you’d allow me to take the ribbons on the return journey?’

‘Nervous, Hawk?’ she teased, easily relapsing into that wonderful camaraderie which had existed between them.

‘I have never been less so,’ he assured her, smiling in a way which made her foolish heart lurch painfully. ‘Finn has taught you well. However, at the risk of sounding pompous, I believe there are one or two small pointers I can teach you that you might find of value.’

It was some time later, after she had arrived back at her grandfather’s house, and Charles and Sebastian had taken their leave, that Emily began to dwell upon what had been a surprisingly enjoyable impromptu visit to Kempton, and once again began to feel a little suspicious about Sebastian’s interest in what had taken place by the wood two weeks before. It might, of course, have been nothing more than idle curiosity, and she didn’t doubt that he had been genuinely sincere when he had voiced concerns for her safety, but even so she couldn’t rid herself of the niggling suspicion that there had been more to his interrogation than mere inquisitiveness.

Leaving Sarah to pore over the latest fashion journals in the front parlour, Emily invaded the privacy of her grandfather’s sanctum. She had never made a habit of doing so during the years she had resided in his house, but it was not totally unknown for her to sit with him from time to time, quietly reading a book. When she made no attempt to select something of interest, and merely seated herself in the chair beside his desk, her somewhat taciturn grandsire did elect to abandon the paper he was perusing long enough to enquire what she wanted.

‘You haven’t come here to ask me more questions about rooks and ravens, kestrels and hawks, have you, by any chance?’

‘No, Grandpapa, I just…What did you say?’ An amazing possibility having suddenly occurred to her, Emily raised her eyes to the feathered specimens in their glass cases. ‘Kestrels and hawks…hawks and kestrels,’ she repeated, rising so abruptly to her feet that the chair she had been sitting on almost toppled over. ‘Oh, what a fool I’ve been! I should have realised at once. Of course, that’s it!’

Leaving her grandfather to stare after her in some astonishment, Emily whisked herself out of the room and returned to the parlour, where Sarah betrayed no less surprise when informed that her help was urgently required.

‘Heavens, Emily! Whatever is the matter?’

‘I’ve been a fool, that’s what the matter is! I should have guessed…I should have realised at once!’ She began to pace up and down, cursing herself under her breath for being such a simpleton. ‘I should have known that he didn’t come down here just to attend Drusilla’s birthday party. She isn’t his type, unless his tastes have changed drastically. And I do not believe now that they have! No, he came here for an entirely different reason. And I’m determined to prove that I’m right!’

Sarah placed the fashion journal to one side. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘I haven’t time to explain now. I’ve too much to think about, and it will take careful planning. Finn mustn’t discover what I’m up to.’ Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Yes, and that’s another thing I’m determined to sort out, because unless I much mistake the matter, there’s more to his being here too!’

Sarah was all at sea and it plainly showed, but Emily refused to satisfy her curiosity for the present. ‘Listen, Sarah,’ she interrupted, ‘there’s something I must do, and I need your help. I seem to remember your saying not so long ago that you came upon a trunk or two of old clothes belonging to Charles in one of the attic rooms. I want you to go over to the Hall and search among them to see if you can discover anything that will fit me—trousers, shirt, jacket…Oh, and a hat, if there is one.’

If possible Sarah looked more bewildered than before. ‘Why, whatever are you planning to do?’

‘I’m planning to sneak out of the house tonight for a couple of hours or so,’ Emily willingly divulged, much to her companion’s further astonishment. ‘I need you to lock the door after I’ve gone and let me back in when you hear my signal. I’ll throw some gravel up at your window, something like that. We can plan all that later. The important thing now is to get you over to the Hall, so I’ll go round to the stables and order the carriage made ready.’

‘Are you not coming too?’

Emily shook her head vigorously. ‘It doesn’t require two of us to search through a couple of trunks. Besides, I dare not risk coming face to face with Hawk. He’d know I was up to something. He always knew when I was planning anything when I was a child, confound him! Don’t be fooled by that lazy manner of his, as I’m ashamed to admit I was briefly,’ she warned. ‘He’s as astute as ever he was. Believe me, little escapes his notice. So be on your guard, and avoid him if you can.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ Sarah assured her. ‘But what are you planning to do in the meantime?’

‘I intend to bask in the sunshine of my grandfather’s approval by offering to clean his silver-handled duelling pistols. He won’t be suspicious. I’ve done it before. Then I’ll load one of them and take it with me tonight. Only as a precaution, you understand?’

Sarah was secretly impressed. ‘Good gracious! Who taught you to do that?’

‘Hawk did. He taught me many things, including never to accept people at face value.’ Her smile was distinctly tender. ‘That is a lesson I shall try never to forget again.’

‘Why the house seems positively deserted!’ Charles announced, entering his library to discover just Lord Hawkridge, comfortably established in a chair by the hearth and perusing the most recent edition of the Morning Post. ‘Most guests have already left, and the few remaining intend to leave tomorrow. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay on for a few days.’

‘I’m enjoying the country air,’ Sebastian assured him, without bothering to raise his head from between the printed sheets.

After settling himself in the chair opposite, Charles regarded his friend in silence for a moment. ‘As I mentioned before, I’m rather surprised you spend so much time in the capital. Since you came into the title, you’ve rarely left the place.’

‘One must be seen, m’dear,’ was the languid response.

‘Cut line, old chap!’ Charles ordered, as unimpressed by the affected drawl as Emily had been. ‘You don’t fool me. You care as much for grand social occasions as I do myself. Although I must admit I did enjoy our party.’

‘Yes, I could see that you did,’ Sebastian responded, the folds of the newspaper hiding his amused grin. ‘Your cousin Sarah is a charming young woman.’

‘She’s an absolute treasure! Don’t know how we ever managed before she came to live with us. Mama has never been what one might call efficient at running a household. I’ve known for quite some time that Sarah has dealt with most aspects of the day-to-day running of this place. And damnably competent she is too!’

‘A pearl beyond price, then, wouldn’t you say?’ his lordship responded, before an item of news caught his attention. ‘And speaking of pearls, Lady Westbury’s famous necklace was found—er—missing several weeks ago, and has not turned up. There’s a reward being offered for its safe return. How interesting! It would appear that the Season has started earlier this year.’

Sir Charles wasn’t granted the opportunity to enquire precisely what his friend had meant, for the door opened and his sister came tripping lightly into the room, complaining as she did so that Lord Hawkridge had been neglecting her that day, and reminding him in the next breath of his promise to accompany her for a stroll in the garden.

‘Good heavens, Drusilla!’ her brother exclaimed testily. ‘How many beaux do you want languishing after you at any one time? Cedric Granger and Percy Lemmington have been dancing attendance upon you all day.’

Sebastian had little difficulty in recognising when a spoilt beauty’s feathers had been slightly ruffled. Miss Drusilla Deverel was a young lady accustomed to having her own way and not having her actions criticised by other members of her family. Charles, it seemed, irritated by something, had no intention on this occasion of pandering to her whims. It would have afforded Sebastian the utmost pleasure to do likewise, for pampered young women had never figured high on the list of those with whom he desired to spend much time. Notwithstanding, in this instance he was quite prepared to bear Miss Drusilla company for twenty minutes or so, most especially as it would grant him the opportunity afterwards of slipping unobtrusively away in order to put certain measures into effect.

Consequently he didn’t hesitate to place the newspaper down on the table beside his chair and rise to his feet. ‘No, no, Charles, a promise is a promise. Never let it be said that Sebastian Hawkridge was not a man of his word.’

‘No one would ever accuse you of that,’ Charles assured him, before the sound of wheels on gravel reached his ears. ‘Now who is that paying us a call, do you suppose?’

‘It is someone leaving,’ Sebastian enlightened him, after glancing out of the window in time to see the equipage moving away from the house.

‘I didn’t realise we’d had a visitor.’

‘Oh, it was only Sarah, Charles,’ his sister enlightened him. ‘No one of consequence. She was here only a short while. Came to collect something, I believe.’

His fair brows snapping together, Charles went striding over to the door. ‘I consider Sarah a very valuable member of this household. When she does decide to remove back here I expect you in particular to treat her with a deal more respect than you have been wont to display in the past, otherwise you might find yourself packed off to Bath to spend a prolonged visit with Great-aunt Henrietta!’

By the look of mingled resentment and fear which flitted over exquisite features, Sebastian felt sure that the matron in question was somewhat formidable and not a firm favourite with the beauty of the house.

‘What on earth do you suppose has come over him?’ Drusilla asked, appearing genuinely bewildered, as Charles swept out of the room without uttering anything further. ‘I cannot imagine why he’s so out-of-all-reason cross.’

‘Ahh, I expect it is spring nipping at him, my dear,’ Sebastian enlightened her with a crooked half-smile, as he slipped her arm through his and patted her fingers reassuringly. ‘But do not be alarmed, child. It is unlikely that you shall ever succumb to the affliction.’

Chapter Five

Emily was swiftly forced to accept that she was nowhere near as intrepid now as she had been as a child. Years before, she would never have taken the least account of the chill night air, wouldn’t have nearly jumped out of her skin at the mere hooting of an owl, or imagined that every sound and every shadow was something sinister, just lying in wait to entrap her. Moreover, after twenty minutes of scouting the fringes of the wood, made infinitely more eerie by brief glimpses of moonlight filtering through the thick canopy of foliage high above her head, she was forced to acknowledge that this was not perhaps the most sensible course of action she had ever taken in her life.

Even if she was right, and Lord Hawkridge was here somewhere, concealed in the undergrowth, finding him would be a virtually impossible task. She could hardly call out his name, thereby alerting anyone else who might be lurking to her presence. Furthermore the wood covered a wide area, so there was no guarantee that Sebastian would have positioned himself in this particular section.

Yes, it had been unutterable madness for her to attempt to confirm her suspicions in this way by coming here tonight, she silently told herself, pausing beside the trunk of a sturdy elm. She glanced back over her shoulder in the general direction from which she had come, and had almost decided to abandon her efforts, and return to where she had left her mount tethered at the edge of the wood, when she detected the snapping of a twig directly behind her. The next moment something solid struck the backs of her legs just below the knees, felling her in a trice. All at once a large hand clamped over her mouth instantly smothering her cry of mingled fright and pain, while a substantial amount of bone and muscle effortlessly pinned her to the ground, confining her arms and making it impossible to reach the weapon concealed in the pocket of her borrowed jacket.

Eyes, glinting ominously, peered down at her from above the woollen muffler successfully concealing most of her captor’s face. Then just for a moment they widened fractionally, as he unexpectedly pulled off her floppy hat, allowing the long hair to tumble about face and shoulders, clearly revealing her sex.

‘I’ll wring your dratted neck, my girl!’ an unmistakable voice growled, and Emily, totally unmoved by the threat, almost cried out in relief as he removed his hand from over her mouth and pulled down the muffler to reveal an expression which betrayed more clearly than words ever could his annoyance at discovering her here.

‘What the blazes do you imagine you’re playing at, Emily?’ the man she had been searching for demanded, easing himself away so that she could remove the pistol, which had been digging painfully into a certain part of her anatomy, and sit up. ‘And what the devil are you doing with this?’ he added, removing the firearm none too gently from her fingers.

Given his present mood, she decided it might be wise to answer, even though she considered the question totally unnecessary. ‘Surely you didn’t imagine that I’d ever be stupid enough to venture out unarmed?’

He appeared not one iota appeased. ‘Where the deuce did you get it from?’

‘It’s Grandpapa’s.’

He regarded her now with acute suspicion. ‘Do you mean to tell me you’re here with his full knowledge and approval?’

‘Of course not,’ she answered, truthful to the last. ‘Although it was he who inadvertently confirmed what I had begun to suspect. And I simply had to come and try to discover if my suspicions were correct and you were the mysterious “Kestrel”.’ Excitement brightened her eyes. ‘What on earth are you about, Hawk?’

If anything he looked angrier than before, and certainly in no mood to satisfy her curiosity, as his next words proved. ‘You’ve come very close on several occasions in the past to receiving your just deserts, Emily Stapleton, but never more so than now.’

Indignation held her mute, but only for a moment. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’ she hissed, in no doubt as to precisely what he was threatening. ‘Besides, I’d squeal my head off, and scare away whoever it is you’re hoping to see.’

His distinctly unpleasant smile was a threat in itself. ‘I’m a patient man. I can wait.’

She didn’t doubt that he was in earnest, and so decided it might be in her own best interests not to annoy him further, and merely regarded him uncertainly for a moment, as she positioned her back against the tree trunk beside him. ‘May I have my pistol back?’

‘No, you mayn’t!’ he snapped, slipping it into his own pocket. ‘You can sit still and be quiet.’

She dutifully obeyed the hissed command, until sometime later when the church clock at Kempton began to chime the midnight hour. ‘I can’t hear anything, can you, Hawk?’ There was no response, so she remained quietly scanning the woodland surrounding them for a further lengthy period. ‘Of course, whoever it is who is meant to be coming might be in quite a different part of the wood,’ she suggested as the clock solemnly tolled the passing of the hour.

This won her a brief, considering glance from attractive, almond shaped eyes which were noticeably less angry now. ‘There are others positioned about the area.’

She didn’t attempt to conceal her amazement. ‘You brought others from London with you?’

‘Only my servants. My groom is somewhere about.’

She relapsed into silence again, considering what he had told her, and, more importantly, what he was keeping to himself. ‘Then you must have attained help from Sir George Maynard,’ she finally announced, after deciding the local Justice of the Peace must have been the one in whom he had confided. ‘I hope Sir George’s people don’t stumble upon some hapless poacher,’ she added, after failing to elicit a response.

She was more successful this time. ‘If they see anyone, then I suspect it will be someone thus engaged. I expressed my doubts to Sir George when I saw him yesterday evening.’ He sounded quite matter-of-fact, as though he wasn’t expecting a successful outcome to the night’s escapade. ‘It’s such a deuced odd location. Why arrange an assignation in a wood when you can hold a meeting in the comfort of a house, or inn? It just doesn’t make sense.’

‘But that’s what the man told me, Hawk,’ she assured him, at last feeling the effects of sitting too long on the cold, damp ground.

His response to the shiver was to reach out and place an arm about her, drawing her closer to share the warmth of his voluminous cloak. Only for an instant did she stiffen, then he felt her relax against him, as she had done on scores of occasions in the past. He smiled to himself, remarking as he did so, ‘Anderson was near dead when you found him. He could not have been too coherent.’

She raised her eyes to the rugged profile that had remained etched in her memory during their years apart. ‘Anderson? Was that his name? What was he doing down here?’

‘He was an agent, Emily. And a damned good one.’

She frowned at this. ‘A spy, you mean?’

‘If you choose to describe it so, then yes. But he was working on behalf of this country. He was obtaining information for a man who is determined to uncover a network of spies.’

Again she studied the strong contours of his face, her eyes coming to rest on the shadow of stubble covering the cleft in his chin. He seemed inclined to confide in her now, so she felt no compunction in asking, ‘Is that what you do?’

‘Only in as much as whenever I discover information which I think might prove valuable I pass it on. My objective is somewhat different. I am determined to uncover the identity of the man who was responsible for the late Lord Sutherland’s demise, and who has been the brains behind several successful jewel robberies.’

Emily had read reports in various newspapers during recent years of the theft of certain well known and highly valuable items of jewellery which, as far as she was aware, had never been recovered. She had also known the late Viscount Sutherland, and remembered well those occasions when he had stayed in Hampshire with Sebastian. They had been very close friends since boyhood, more like brothers, and she didn’t doubt that Simon’s death must have been a bitter blow to the man beside her.

‘I did read an account of his death in the newspaper, Seb,’ she admitted softly. ‘But I understood that it was an accident.’ All at once she knew that this wasn’t the case. ‘What really happened?’

He gazed down at her, and even in the gloom she couldn’t fail to see the sadness in his eyes. ‘He committed suicide, Emily. For the sake of the family, Simon’s young brother and I did our best to make it appear an accident. I had been with Simon that evening. About an hour after I had returned home, his brother Michael came to fetch me in the carriage. He had been staying with Simon for several weeks, and had been out with friends that night. When he arrived back at the house, he discovered Simon in the library, slumped over the desk, the note he had left splattered with his blood.

‘We destroyed the note, and Michael and I informed the authorities that Simon was recovering well from the death of his wife. I told them that he had planned to spend some time with me in Kent, that we intended, among other things, to hold a competition at my ancestral home to see who was the best shot, and that I had left him earlier in the evening cleaning his pistols. The truth of course was very different.’

His sigh seemed to hang in the night air for a long time. ‘Two months before, his wife had been journeying to her parents’ home in Surrey when her coach was attacked. She had been carrying several items of jewellery with her, including the famous diamond necklace Simon had bestowed upon her shortly after their marriage. The report in the newspapers stated that she had suffered a miscarriage shortly after the attack and had died as a result. This was not true. She was violated, Emily, and then strangled. The female companion travelling with her suffered a similar fate, and the coachman and groom were murdered also.

‘Poor Simon never recovered from the death of his wife and his unborn child. Had I known what he intended to do that night I would never have left him. But I vowed, when I saw him laid to rest beside his wife, that I would avenge their deaths, no matter how long it took me.’

For several minutes Emily didn’t trust herself to speak. She may have been gently nurtured, shielded from birth from the more unsavoury aspects of life, but she knew well enough what had happened to Lady Elizabeth Sutherland.

‘Dear God!’ she muttered at length. ‘How dreadful…And how totally unnecessary. Those responsible for the attack on Lady Sutherland didn’t need to resort to such lengths. Why didn’t they simply steal the jewels and go?’

‘Because they’re unspeakable fiends, that’s why,’ he spat between gritted teeth. ‘Lady Sutherland and her servants are by no means the only ones to have fallen foul of those devils over the years. When Lady Melcham’s diamond necklace was stolen from her home, her butler became a further casualty. Although the authorities have no idea as to the identities of the perpetrators of these horrendous crimes, it is generally believed that the brains behind them is someone of my own class, someone who moves freely in Society and discovers by various means the whereabouts of these highly prized items of jewellery at times when they are most easily purloined—when they are being carried about the country, for instance, or when they are left in a house while the master and mistress are away, with fewer servants to guard them.’

As Emily sat quietly digesting what she had learned, something occurred to her as rather odd. ‘You mentioned that all the pieces stolen are well known. That being the case, how on earth do the thieves dispose of them? Surely no one in this country wealthy enough to purchase such highly prized items would be foolish enough to do so, and risk prosecution?’

‘We believe they are being sold abroad. In fact we are reasonably certain that Lady Melcham’s necklace and the one which belonged to the Sutherland family are now in the hands of an Italian nobleman who possesses another in the set. They are being taken out of the country by the same means by which secret information is passed on.’

‘Smugglers?’

‘Yes, Emily. And unless I’m very much mistaken Anderson got wind of a shipment of goods being landed hereabouts. I expect too that he learned that a valuable pearl necklace, which was recently reported stolen, would be taken out of the country on the same vessel landing the contraband.’

‘Yes, that’s possible,’ she agreed. ‘We’re only a matter of three or four miles from the coast here.’

‘Which makes me wonder why the meeting, possibly for the exchange of the necklace, would take place here?’ Sebastian looked about him assessingly, much as he had done when they had driven out in the curricle. ‘It would have made more sense for it to have happened somewhere along the coast. Freetraders don’t hang around for long. They run the risk of being spotted by our patrolling vessels, or Preventive Officers scouting the coastline.’

‘So you think the handing over of this pearl necklace was the message Anderson was trying to get to you?’

‘Almost certainly. I’m not involved in the hunting down of spies. That is quite another gentleman’s department. And Anderson’s message was definitely for me—” The Kestrel”. However,’ he added, rising to his feet and helping Emily to do likewise, just as the Kempton church clock confirmed that a further hour had passed, ‘I think we must accept the fact that we’re not going to get our hands on the miscreants this time.’

Experiencing a mixture of disappointment because their vigil had proved fruitless, and relief that it was over at last and she could seek the warmth and comfort of her bed, Emily automatically followed Sebastian out of the wood. It didn’t occur to her that he was heading in an entirely different direction from the one by which she had arrived, until she discovered herself in a field where two horses were tethered to a fence and a very familiar, stocky individual stood guarding them.

‘What in the world are you doing here, Finn?’ she demanded to know, as they drew closer and she could see, even in the dim light, that his astonishment was no less marked than her own, though she managed to conceal hers rather better. Then she recalled the suspicion that had filtered through her mind the day before when Sebastian had addressed her groom by name. ‘Evidently you’re acquainted with his lordship, Finn. Just how well acquainted are you?’

He appeared unable to meet her gaze. ‘Well, I—er—I—’

‘Why don’t you go and collect your mistress’s horse, Finn,’ his lordship suggested before the groom’s tongue became too entangled in knots. He transferred his attention to Emily who was looking anything but pleased now. ‘I assume you did ride here and not walk?’

‘I left my mare over there.’ She gestured behind her. ‘In the next field.’

Finn needed no further prompting and swiftly mounted, leaving his lordship to soothe the ruffled feathers of a female who it had to be said was not always easily pacified.

‘You can stop glowering at me, you little termagant!’ his lordship ordered without preamble. Unfortunately the command lacked any real conviction owing to the fact that he was singularly unsuccessful in keeping his voice steady, and was quite unable to suppress a smile. ‘You didn’t honestly suppose that after watching you leave Hampshire in your grandfather’s carriage I would conveniently forget your very existence, not to mention break the promise I had made to your mother to take care of you?’

Emily turned away lest her expression betray the heartache this simple admission engendered. Even now, after almost five years, the pain never lessened whenever she began to dwell on the fact that the only reason he had been prepared to marry her was to fulfil the promise he had made to her mother. Oh, he was fond of her, right enough—anyone with a ha’p’orth of intelligence couldn’t fail to perceive that. But affection was no substitute for that most tender of emotions.

‘Be reasonable, Em,’ he coaxed, quite failing to appreciate that the tense set of slender shoulders might have stemmed from something other than pique. ‘I couldn’t just leave you in your grandfather’s care. He would never have maintained a proper guard over you.’

‘So you employed Finn to do the job, to spy on me!’ she snapped, sounding genuinely miffed, and to a certain extent she was. ‘Exactly whose servant is he—yours or my grandfather’s?’

‘He’s yours, Emily,’ Sebastian corrected. ‘And he’s devoted to you. You know that.’ Grasping her shoulders, he gave her no choice but to turn and face him squarely. ‘Yes, it was I who acquired his services initially, and sent him down here. But he has your best interests at heart, not mine. He merely agreed to help to keep a lookout in this section of woodland tonight.’

She might have been generous enough to acknowledge the truth of this if something else hadn’t suddenly occurred to her which added substantially to her annoyance and which enabled her to ignore the continued touch of those shapely hands on her upper arms. ‘And I suppose it is you I have to thank for putting that ridiculous notion into Grandpapa’s head about engaging the services of a duenna?”

He had the grace to look a little shamefaced. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I thought you might like some feminine companionship, although I did not press the issue when your grandfather wrote and told me you were set against the idea. I could understand that you’d not take too kindly to being chaperoned, after years of relative freedom. But as I’d made that pledge to your mother, I was determined to do all I could to keep my word.’

Torn between respect and resentment, Emily regarded him in silence for a moment. ‘Very well, I can appreciate the reasons behind your actions in the past. But you will oblige me, Lord Hawkridge, by not interfering in my affairs in the future. And as for you,’ she added rounding on her groom, who at that moment arrived back, leading her horse, ‘your continued employment as my servant is far from certain, Judas Finn. You and I shall be having a long talk tomorrow.’

Removing his hat to scratch his grizzled hair, Finn watched his young mistress mount without assistance and ride away. ‘Don’t much like the sound of that m’ lord. How much ought I to tell her?’

‘As little as possible, Jonas,’ Sebastian replied, casting the groom a meaningful look. ‘When I feel the time is right I’ll inform her that I have every right to interfere in her affairs. In the meantime—’ he delved into his pocket for John Stapleton’s pistol, and handed it up to the groom “—give her this. It might go some way in restoring you in her good books.’

Not appearing wholly convinced, Finn did what he had been entrusted to do, and set off at a gallop to ensure that his lordship’s ward came to no harm.

Although Emily attained very little sleep that night, she surprisingly arose little later than usual the following morning, and was more than willing to acquiesce to Sarah’s request to make a trip to the local town.

They spent a pleasant hour visiting the shops, where Sarah purchased various bits and pieces, and then returned to the inn where the carriage awaited them, only to be informed by Finn that he’d learned that the road home had become blocked by a hay cart which had shed its load.

‘Oh, not to worry,’ Emily responded cheerfully, quite forgetting that her faithful groom was not precisely basking in the sunshine of her approval at the moment. ‘We’ll return by way of the coast road. It’s a pleasant morning, and it’s a pretty run.’

‘I’ve lived in Dorsetshire for as long as you have, Em, and I’ve never travelled this way before,’ Sarah disclosed as the carriage turned off the main road and they bowled along a narrow country lane with many twists and turns.

‘I’ve ridden along here only once, shortly after I came to live with my grandfather. The road passes through Gremlock. It’s a small fishing village and quite quaint,’ Emily informed her, and then smiled to herself as her companion appeared content to stare out of the window at what for her was unfamiliar landscape.

True to her word Sarah had remained awake to unlock the door during the early hours. Agog with curiosity she had accompanied Emily back upstairs, but the instant Emily had said, ‘As I told you, I went out to discover if something I suspected was true. My suspicions turned out to be correct. But more than this I cannot reveal, lest I betray the trust of—of a friend,’ Sarah had not attempted to discover more and had returned quietly to her own room.

Emily could not help but admire Sarah’s placid nature and self-control. Had their roles been reversed, and she had been the one to remain awake to unlock the door, she felt sure she would have persevered until she’d discovered much more.

‘Now, what’s to do?’ Emily muttered, abandoning her reverie, as the carriage came to an unexpected halt in the middle of Gremlock’s main street.

Pulling down the window, she poked her head out, and was informed by Finn that it was only a drayman unloading, and they wouldn’t be delayed for very long. Leaning out a little further, Emily caught sight of a barrel being rolled down into the tavern’s cellar, then raised her eyes to see the inn’s weathered sign swinging to and fro on its rusty hinges.

‘Oh, dear God,’ she murmured, her face losing every vestige of colour. ‘Whatever have I done?’

Chapter Six

One might reasonably have supposed that any gentleman of wealth and rank, and therefore in a position to command most any luxury, could not be other than highly satisfied with his lot; and to a certain extent Lord Hawkridge had enjoyed the privileged life he had been leading in recent years. Yet he could not deny that there had been occasions, sadly too numerous to count, when he had been afflicted by rank boredom. And never more so than now!

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