A convenient betrothal

“It will save us both from scandal.”

Widowed three times over, Lady Anna Fortescue is used to ignoring the wagging tongues of the ton. After finding herself in a compromising position with handsome bachelor Lord Harry Edgerton, to avoid scandal she ends up engaged again. The arrangement may be one of convenience, but as Anna finds herself unable to resist Harry’s charms, she realizes the betrothal may have its benefits...

“The sweet romance that blossoms between them may bring a deep sigh from readers who adore a love story that makes the impossible seem realistic.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante

“A sweet, adventurous romance.”

—RT Book Reviews on Governess to the Sheikh

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

Also by Laura Martin

The Pirate Hunter

Secrets Behind Locked Doors

Under a Desert Moon

Governess to the Sheikh

A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante

An Unlikely Debutante

The Eastway Cousins miniseries

An Earl in Want of a Wife

Heiress on the Run

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

An Earl to Save Her Reputation

Laura Martin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07367-7

AN EARL TO SAVE HER REPUTATION

© 2018 Laura Martin

Published in Great Britain 2018

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

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

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

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

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my family, all of you.

Together you make me stronger.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

‘Three husbands in six years. If I didn’t know it to be true, I wouldn’t think it possible.’

‘And the rumours of how those poor men died...’

‘She might have a pretty face, but I wouldn’t want any relative of mine becoming embroiled with her. One can only guess what will happen to husband number four.’

‘It’s nothing short of scandalous how she’s swanning around this ballroom. Hardly out of mourning and she’s all smiles and laughter.’

‘And insisting she continue to run that grubby little business of her second husband. It’s not ladylike and it’s not proper.’

Anna closed her eyes for a moment before pressing herself further into the recess of the ballroom. The two women who were gossiping openly and maliciously were shielded from view by a tall, lush potted plant. But one of them only needed to move a few inches to their right or left and they would catch sight of Anna desperately trying to avoid them.

The words themselves didn’t hurt. She had been married three times and all three husbands had died within a year of their marriage. Anna was well aware of the less-than-complimentary names she was called by the spiteful matrons and wide-eyed debutantes. Murderer, husband killer, black widow. It didn’t seem to matter to them that it just wasn’t true and Anna had learnt long ago that it was better to let people speculate than to fuel the gossip with denials and pleas to be left alone.

Despite becoming hardened to the infamy, Anna hated the sort of situation she found herself in right now. She wished she could just slink away without anyone noticing her presence.

‘Lady Fortescue, how pleasant to see you again after so long,’ a man Anna vaguely recognised called out in a voice that seemed to echo off the walls. From her position behind the plant pot Anna saw the two gossips turning to look her way. There was no escaping their line of sight.

Straightening her back, dropping her shoulders and lifting her chin, adopting the posture that made her look more confident even if she didn’t feel it, Anna stepped out of the recess and into the ballroom. She acknowledged the man with a polite incline of her head, then turned to fix the two women with a glacial stare.

‘Give my regards to your brother, Mrs Weston. Such a darling man,’ Anna said, before gliding away as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Anna wasn’t sure if Mrs Weston even had a brother, they’d certainly never been introduced, but the small deception was worth it for the look of abject horror on both women’s faces.

Anna needed to get away. With a quick glance across the ballroom she saw Beatrice, her young cousin who she had agreed to chaperon for the Season, dancing a lively cotillion, her face lit up by a sunny smile and her chest heaving from the exertion. Beatrice would be unlikely to require Anna’s attention for a few minutes at least, so quickly Anna slipped out of the ballroom.

It was noticeably cooler in the hallway and there was a scent of freshly cut flowers mixed with the smell of hundreds of burning candles. Even out here small groups gathered, glad to be away from the heat and crowds in the ballroom for a few minutes, and Anna had to force herself to walk calmly past them rather than pick up her skirts and run. She just wanted some privacy, or even better anonymity, to be able to enjoy the music and dancing without everyone talking about her behind their hands.

As she ventured further from the ballroom the hallway became quieter. Anna felt her heart beginning to slow and the panic that had seized her only moments before start to subside. She tried one door handle, then another, finding an unlocked door on her third attempt. Quickly she slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness after the brilliantly lit hallway, but after a while Anna could make out the lines of bookshelves against the walls and the shapes of a few comfortable chairs with a desk at one end. This was some sort of study or library, the perfect retreat for a few moments’ peace. Before long she would have to steel herself for another round of sideways looks and malicious gossip in the ballroom, but right now she would just enjoy the solitude.

Anna lowered herself into a high-backed chair, her posture rigid even though no one else would see her. Her late husband, her latest late husband, had been a stickler for good posture and impeccable manners. Anna had learnt quickly to glide slowly around the house, sit with a straight back and never let any emotion show on her face. The punishment for breaking these rules was unmerciful, like many of Lord Fortescue’s whims.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the distant hum of conversation from the ballroom and the first faint notes of a waltz. Even through the background noise Anna noticed the sound of hurried footsteps getting closer, but before she could move the door to the study opened and two people slipped inside. It was apparent immediately that Anna’s unwanted companions were a man and a woman, and by the excited whispers and scent of champagne she could only assume they were here for some secret assignation.

‘Your husband won’t miss you?’ the man said, as Anna heard the rustle of silk.

‘Old fool is at the gaming tables—he wouldn’t notice a stampede of wild horses.’

Anna wondered if she should stand and make her presence known. The last thing she wanted was to become embroiled in this couple’s illicit affair, but she didn’t much desire to be witness to their intimacy either.

She’d just gripped the armrests, ready to push herself up, when the door opened for a second time. Anna heard the couple freeze, then spring apart in a rustle of fabric and clatter of shoes. The light of a candle illuminated the room, causing the shadows to lengthen around her. She sank back into the chair, fervently hoping that the new guest would scare away the couple and then leave her in peace.

‘My apologies,’ a deep, slightly amused voice said. Anna analysed the tone and intonation, but was sure she had never met this newcomer before. Even after being removed from society for the past couple of years she still was familiar with most of the aristocratic gentlemen who frequented these balls, but this man she did not think she recognised.

The young woman gasped theatrically and ran from the room.

‘Edgerton.’

‘Wilbraham.’

The two men greeted each other with just a single word which suggested they knew one another at least passably well. The silence stretched out uncomfortably as Anna in her hidden position held her breath and willed both men to leave.

‘You won’t say anything, old chap?’

‘No. Not my place.’

Footsteps and the closing of the door followed, but the candlelight still illuminated the room and Anna could hear the light breathing of one of the gentlemen.

Wondering whether to make a dash for the door, Anna shifted in her chair just as the newcomer came into view.

‘Good evening,’ he said, no trace of surprise at finding her sitting in the high-back chair evident in either his face or his voice.

‘Good evening.’ Despite her thumping heart Anna managed to sound poised and calm. Years of practice at maintaining a serene façade came in useful sometimes.

‘Looking for a little peace?’

‘Yes.’ Anna kept her voice clipped and icy, hoping the gentleman would understand she wanted to be left alone.

She watched as he sauntered around the study, opening cupboards and cabinets until he came across what he was looking for: a bottle of whisky and two short glasses.

‘Can’t abide champagne,’ the gentleman said, pouring out two generous measures of the caramel-coloured liquid. ‘And punch is even worse.’

He held out one of the glasses, waiting for Anna to take it before he sat down in the chair next to hers. Taking a gulp, he examined the liquid thoughtfully before chuckling softly.

‘What’s so funny?’ Anna asked, regretting the question as soon as it passed her lips. She knew better than to engage.

‘Prendy’s servants are watering down his whisky,’ he said, raising the glass to his lips for another taste.

‘Prendy’s?’

‘Lord Prenderson. Our host.’

‘You know him well?’

‘Doesn’t everyone know everyone else?’

Anna was just about to bid her companion farewell when he fixed her with a penetrating stare.

‘Although I don’t think we’ve ever met.’ He regarded her, letting his eyes sweep from the top of her head, across her features and down over her body. ‘I’m sure I’d remember.’

The polite thing would be to introduce herself, yet Anna stood abruptly, set her untouched glass on the table and took a step towards the door.

‘I wouldn’t go out there just yet if I were you.’

She took another step forward.

‘Bad idea.’

Two more steps. In another few seconds she would be out of the study and heading back towards the crowds.

‘It’s your choice, of course, but the gossips would be delighted to find you in here unchaperoned.’

Anna stiffened, closing her eyes for a brief few seconds before turning slowly and facing her companion.

‘Gossips?’

‘A group of middle-aged matrons are recovering from the heat of the ballroom out in the hall. I’m sure it would not escape their notice that you were in here with Lord Wilbraham and Mrs Featherstone.’ He frowned as if something had just occurred to him. ‘What were you planning on doing if they’d decided to further their intimacy?’

‘In the study? So close to the ballroom? I hardly think that was likely,’ Anna said, her voice dry and her face serene.

‘I understand some people find the danger exciting.’

Anna knew he was teasing her now, but instead of rising to the bait she changed the subject.

‘When will it be safe to exit, Mr Edgerton?’

‘Lord Edgerton,’ he corrected absently. ‘And now you have me at a disadvantage.’

‘Lady Fortescue,’ Anna supplied reluctantly.

He fixed her with a curious gaze that told her he’d heard the rumours. All the rumours.

‘The notorious Lady Fortescue,’ he murmured.

‘You’re not meant to say that,’ Anna said, adding under her breath, ‘At least not to my face.’

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Fortescue,’ Edgerton said, standing and taking her hand, bringing it to his lips after a few seconds.

This close Anna could appreciate his physical size. He was at least a foot taller than her and sported broad shoulders that filled his jacket perfectly. For the first time since he’d entered, Anna realised the folly of being alone with this man. It wasn’t just the scandal that could occur if they were discovered, but the risk he might take advantage. Slowly she stepped back. He didn’t look as though he were about to pounce on her, but history had shown her to be a poor judge of character. Kind eyes and a relaxed manner didn’t mean a man was trustworthy.

* * *

Harry saw the flash of fear in Lady Fortescue’s eyes before the stony façade once again concealed her emotions. Quickly he stepped back, realising it was him she was afraid of. That had never been his intention, to scare the poor woman—he’d been called many things in his life, but frightening was not one of them.

‘Let me check the hallway,’ he said, summoning his friendliest smile.

Crossing to the doorway, he opened the door a crack and peered out. The group of meddling matrons still stood fanning themselves and chattering ten feet away. There was no way past them, at least not without being seen.

‘Still there. I’m sure they will return to the ballroom shortly.’

Harry returned to his chair and sat, watching Lady Fortescue out of the corner of his eye. When she’d introduced herself he’d been unable to stop from staring. Normally so in control of his reactions, he’d been thrown by her identity. She was notorious, perhaps the most notorious widow in society at the present time. Married three times before the age of twenty-five, her latest husband, Lord Fortescue, in the ground for twelve months now. He’d expected her to look different somehow, perhaps more exotic. Instead a perfectly pleasant-looking young woman stood before him. She was pretty, but not any more so than most of the young debutantes. He couldn’t deny she had poise and grace, but there was a coolness about her that hinted at a reserved character and a tendency to shun company. Her most intriguing feature were her eyes. Cool and grey, they seemed impenetrable. Normally a young woman’s eyes gave away her emotions, but not Lady Fortescue’s. If eyes were the window to the soul, then Lady Fortescue’s were shuttered and barred against intruders.

They remained silent for some minutes, Harry reclining in the armchair, Lady Fortescue standing in the middle of the room, her hands folded together in front of her abdomen, the perfect picture of demure womanhood.

‘So tell me,’ Harry said when he could bear the silence no longer, ‘are the rumours true?’

His companion sighed, a deep and heartfelt sound that hinted that she’d rather be anywhere but here.

‘I find rumours rarely are,’ she said evasively.

‘Very true,’ Harry murmured. He knew better than most the damage malicious gossip could cause. ‘How do you bear it? People talking about you, speculating?’

Lady Fortescue shrugged, an instinctive movement that she seemed to try to suppress at the last moment. ‘People will always talk. It doesn’t matter what they say if you don’t listen.’

Although she was younger than he, and undoubtedly hadn’t been exposed to as much of the world as he, she had a quiet wisdom about her that suggested she’d had more important things to cope with than a little gossip in her time.

‘Most women would not feel comfortable leaving the ballroom on their own, let alone wandering about a strange house,’ Harry said, changing the focus of the conversation. He was curious as to why she had put herself in this position in the first place. Although the ton were meant to be respectable, the cream of society, some of the men still got uncontrollably drunk at functions such as this and thought it their right to take advantage of any unchaperoned woman. From a young age the future debutantes were cautioned about wandering away from crowds if they wanted to keep their virtue intact. A necessary requirement Harry was painfully aware of.

Again that almost imperceptible shrug. Lady Fortescue might be intriguing, but she certainly wasn’t the easiest woman to make conversation with.

‘Sometimes a little peace is worth a considered risk.’ Moving gracefully, as if she were gliding across the floor instead of walking, Lady Fortescue crossed to the window. ‘This leads out on to the terrace,’ she said, turning her neck to look in one direction and then the other. ‘It would be an easy way back to the ballroom.’

‘Surely my company isn’t so intolerable you have to contemplate climbing out a window?’

A grimace and then a reluctant smile flitted across Lady Fortescue’s face. Although the smile was barely more than an upturning of the corner of her lips, it transformed her face and Harry caught a glimpse of what her three husbands must have been so enamoured with.

‘I am supposed to be chaperoning my young cousin,’ she said by way of explanation, still eyeing up the window as if it were a valid option.

‘You’re far too young to be relegated to the role of chaperon,’ Harry said, without thinking the words through. It was a compliment, in a roundabout way, and he had the feeling Lady Fortescue was not comfortable with receiving compliments.

‘Three times a widow,’ Lady Fortescue said, adding so quietly Harry was sure he wasn’t meant to hear, ‘and happy to never have to dance a waltz again.’

She’d just stepped away from the window when the faint hum of voices out in the hallway became a little louder. Both Harry and his companion stiffened, and Harry realised he was holding his breath waiting to see if the doorknob started to turn.

‘We can’t be found together,’ Harry whispered, standing quickly and crossing to the window. Normally he wouldn’t worry for his own reputation in this sort of situation. As a titled and wealthy gentleman he could generally withstand being found in a compromising position with a young lady, even one as notorious as Lady Fortescue. However, following his sister’s unfortunate liaison with the dishonourable Captain Mountfield last year and the ensuing scandal, the Edgerton family was not in a position to be embarrassed again. Added to that the look of pure fear in Lady Fortescue’s eyes at the thought of giving the gossips of London society something to really get their teeth into, the window escape was looking more appealing every second that passed.

Quickly he unbolted the window, slid it up and motioned for Lady Fortescue to join him. She was at his side in an instant, nodding as he motioned for her to go first. With more grace than should have been possible in this situation Lady Fortescue gathered up her skirts, giving Harry a fleeting glimpse of a slender, stockinged leg, and allowed him to steady her as she stepped up to the windowsill.

Behind them the voices were getting louder still and now Harry had no doubt they were heading for the study. If he could just get Lady Fortescue out of the window he would be able to distract whoever came into the room until she had managed to move out of sight.

She stepped up as the doorknob began to turn. One foot was through the window, balancing on the sill outside as the door began to open. Then Lady Fortescue gave a quiet cry of pain, lost her footing and came careening back into the room. Harry instinctively caught her, spinning round with the impact of her body into his and ending up with her chest pressed against his, one arm looped around her waist and the other resting between her shoulder blades.

At that very instant the door opened fully.

‘Merciful Lord,’ Mrs Winter, one of the worst gossips in the whole of London, exclaimed loudly.

Quietly Lady Fortescue groaned.

All in all there were four women standing on the other side of the study door. Each and every one looked thrilled to be at the centre of such a scandal.

Slowly, aware his every movement was being observed and mentally recorded for later dissection and discussion, Harry ensured Lady Fortescue had her balance before removing his arms and stepping away.

‘Ladies,’ he said with a polite bow.

‘Lord Edgerton,’ Mrs Winter gushed breathlessly, ‘and Lady Fortescue.’

Muscling a path through her companions, a well-built lady in her late forties stepped into the room. Harry closed his eyes momentarily, wondering how he’d sinned to be punished this badly.

‘Lord Edgerton, this really won’t do,’ Lady Prenderson, their hostess for this evening, said, her eyes burning with righteous indignation. ‘This behaviour is unacceptable—having relations with this woman in my husband’s study.’

Harry wasn’t sure what she objected to the most: the supposed relations between him and Lady Fortescue or the fact that it had occurred in her husband’s study.

‘I expect this behaviour from certain people,’ Lady Prenderson said, giving Lady Fortescue a disdainful look, ‘but after the scandal your sister has caused your family I would have thought you would know better.’

Harry had been all ready to apologise, but the mention of his sister made a red curtain descend over his normally cool head. Lady Fortescue must have sensed this change in him and calmly stepped forward.

‘Please excuse me, ladies, I have a duty to my cousin.’ Her voice was cool and her demeanour poised and collected. Harry supposed she had endured all manner of gossip over the last few years—she must have had practice at dealing with staying calm when faced with further notoriety. He knew she was just as bothered as he by the position they’d been discovered in—her eagerness to climb out the window to avoid exactly this situation was testament to that fact—but the face she showed the world was one of complete indifference.

None of the ladies in the doorway moved, blocking the escape route to the more populated ballroom. With a tremendous effort Harry managed to regain control of his emotions and stepped forward, taking Lady Fortescue’s arm. There was only one thing to be done. He took a deep breath, quelled the doubts clamouring for attention in his mind and spoke.

‘Ladies, may I present my fiancée,’ Harry said with a confident and winning smile. ‘Lady Fortescue has just agreed to marry me.’

Shock blossomed on the four faces gawping at them from the study door. Lady Fortescue barely reacted, the only sign she’d heard what he’d just said the subtle stiffening of the muscles Harry could feel where their arms interlinked. She was certainly difficult to shock.

‘Surely not, Lord Edgerton,’ Mrs Winter said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Harry remembered she had two unmarried daughters and had to suppress a smile. The work of the meddling matron was never done.

‘Now if you would excuse us, I wish to get my new fiancée a glass of champagne to celebrate.’

The crowd of gossips parted silently and Harry led Lady Fortescue through them and down the hallway. Only once they were back in the ballroom did they pause, with Lady Fortescue turning to him with a raised eyebrow.

‘Fiancée?’ she asked.

‘It will save us both from the scandal.’ It wasn’t exactly true, but it would at least delay the moment of scandal until a point when they were both prepared for it.

‘You’ve just engaged yourself to the most notorious woman in this ballroom. I hardly think you’ve saved yourself from scandal.’

Harry felt the heat begin to rise in his body. Surely she didn’t think this a real engagement. He’d meant for it to be a simple ruse, an engagement that would last a few weeks, perhaps a month until something else noteworthy occurred in society, and then they would quietly go their separate ways. The ton would still gossip, but it would not be the most scandalous thing to happen all year.

‘Being found together in the Prendersons’ study will be all over London by breakfast tomorrow morning. This way we are an unlikely engaged couple, not a disgraced earl and a widow.’

‘I thank you for your consideration,’ Lady Fortescue said, her grey eyes latching on to Harry’s and making him shiver with the intensity, ‘but I think it better we dispense with this pretence and ride out the scandal.’ Leaning in, she whispered in his ear, ‘Trust me, a little gossip isn’t the worst thing in the world.’

Chapter Two

‘I really wouldn’t read that, my dear,’ Mr Tenby, Anna’s kindly uncle, said, a look of concern in his eyes.

Anna’s hand stilled on top of the folded gossip sheets. She’d hoped the news from the Prendersons’ ball would not be reported for another couple of days. It was a miracle how quickly they seemed to be able to publish the latest intrigue and style faux pas.

‘Words cannot hurt me,’ Anna said brightly, picking up the paper and scanning the text, trying to ignore the concerned looks coming across the breakfast table from her uncle and her cousin Beatrice.

‘“Congratulations are due to Lady Fortescue on her engagement to Lord Edgerton at Lord and Lady Prenderson’s ball two days ago. Recently out of mourning for her third husband, Lady Fortescue will no doubt be keen to legalise her tie to one of London’s most eligible bachelors.”’

Anna read the offending paragraph out loud, wondering how many other people were doing the same thing at breakfast tables across London.

‘What did happen, Anna?’ Beatrice asked.

Ever since the Prenderson ball Anna had kept herself distant from the rest of the household and steadfastly refused any visitors. Even her sweet younger cousin had been kept in the dark.

‘A misunderstanding, nothing more.’

‘This Edgerton chap has called on you twice,’ Mr Tenby said. ‘Seems keen to see you.’

‘He was merely trying to save an impossible situation.’

‘Decent young man by all accounts.’

‘Uncle,’ Anna said kindly, ‘I do not care if he takes in waifs and strays off the streets and gives half his income to the poor, I will never marry again.’

‘He’s very handsome, in a rugged sort of way,’ Beatrice said.

Anna supposed he had been handsome. Sparkling blue eyes contrasting with hair so dark it was almost black, and a toned and muscular physique. She could see why he was dubbed one of London’s most eligible bachelors even without the title and the income that went with it.

‘He could look like a wild boar for all that it matters,’ Anna said.

‘And he proposed to you to save you from scandal. He’s clearly a gentleman of honour,’ Beatrice said, her voice dreamy and distant.

Remembering what it was like to be eighteen and innocent, Anna ignored this last statement entirely, biting back the retort that was on her tongue.

‘Anna dear, you know you will always have a home here with me,’ her uncle said, ‘no matter what happens with your settlement from Lord Fortescue. I enjoy your company and dare say will even more so when my little Beatrice has left for a life with a husband of her own.’ Mr Tenby paused, as if considering whether to say more. ‘But more than your company, I wish for your happiness. One day you may want to marry again. You’re still young, you may want children, a home of your own. Don’t rule out anything yet.’

‘Of course, Uncle.’ Anna smiled at the kindly man who had taken her in after her husband had died. Lord Fortescue had three children from his first marriage. Two brutish sons and a spiteful daughter who had turned Anna out of her home less than thirty minutes after her husband’s death. They’d taken everything, left her with nothing but the clothes she was wearing, and even now were contesting the settlements she was due from her late husband’s estate. Anna’s uncle had travelled halfway across the country when he’d heard of her plight, swept her up into his carriage and brought her back to his home. He’d reminded her that there was kindness in the world and that not everyone was cruel and selfish.

Patting her on the hand, Mr Tenby rose from his seat and made his way towards the door.

‘Whatever your feelings for this gentleman, he deserves an audience,’ he said softly, ‘even if it is just to end this engagement between you.’

‘Yes, Uncle.’

Anna knew he was right. It had been rude and cowardly to refuse to see Lord Edgerton the past two days. If he came to call on her today, she would see him briefly and clear up any misunderstanding between them.

* * *

Harry whistled as he strode up the stairs two at a time. The sun was shining and it was impossible to feel anything but positive on such a day. Today he would insist on an audience with Lady Fortescue and no one would stand in his way.

The door opened before he could raise the polished doorknocker and an elderly butler opened the door.

‘Lady Fortescue is in the music room, Lord Edgerton. She will see you directly.’

Perhaps this was going to be easier than he had anticipated.

Looking around him with interest, Harry followed the butler up the sweeping staircase to the first floor. As they climbed Harry could hear an exquisitely played piece of piano music getting louder, as if the pianist was growing in confidence with every note.

‘Lord Edgerton,’ the butler announced as he showed Harry into a sunny room. The piano music stopped abruptly and Lady Fortescue stood to greet him, her expression as inscrutable as it had been at the Prendersons’ ball.

‘A pleasure to see you again, Lady Fortescue. I do hope you have not been unwell,’ Harry said pointedly, reminding the woman who stood before him he’d tried to visit twice in the last two days. He wondered if she would lie, if she would pretend to have been stricken down with a bad chest or a headache, but instead Lady Fortescue regarded him for a few seconds before speaking.

‘I must confess I was hoping to put all this nonsense behind us,’ she said quietly.

Harry waited for her to step out from behind the piano and glide towards him before he took her hand and bent over it formally. He felt her flinch ever so slightly at his touch, but her expression did not change.

‘Please have a seat.’ She motioned to one of two upright chairs positioned a few feet apart.

‘The world thinks we are engaged,’ Harry said, getting straight to the point. Lady Fortescue’s cool grey eyes were disconcerting when she fixed them so intently on his.

‘It would seem so.’ There was no reproach in her voice, just an air of mild uninterest.

‘I suppose that is preferable to the alternative.’

‘Which is?’

‘The rumours of us being found together in a compromising position.’

Tilting her head to one side, Lady Fortescue appeared to consider this for a moment.

‘You’re probably correct,’ she conceded.

‘Forgive me for my bluntness, but you seem wildly unconcerned about the gossip attached to our names,’ Harry said.

The situation was feeling rather surreal. Normally if a man and a woman had been found in a compromising position it would be the woman who was eager to save her reputation. Gentlemen, especially titled ones, were forgiven all manner of indiscretions. Gently bred ladies were not. It was perhaps unfair, but it was the way society worked.

Harry watched Lady Fortescue carefully and detected a tiny twitch in the muscles of her forehead. It could mean anything, but he wondered if it was yet another sign that Lady Fortescue was unnaturally good at hiding her emotions.

‘Lord Edgerton,’ she said with a sigh, ‘before you met me what had you heard?’

Harry opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again. He’d heard plenty. The ballrooms and gentlemen’s clubs had been rife with rumours and speculation about Lady Fortescue and her three deceased husbands.

‘I take it from your silence the rumours were not complimentary...’ She paused, smiling to reveal a perfect set of white teeth. ‘Ever since my second husband passed away people have talked about me, not to my face, of course, but they have picked and prodded at my life as if it were nothing more than an episode for public entertainment.’

‘That cannot be pleasant.’

‘It isn’t, of course it isn’t, but I’m still here. A little gossip isn’t the worst thing in the world.’ It was the second time she’d made that statement, the second time she’d brushed off the damage unkind words could do, and Harry began to wonder what Lady Fortescue did think was the worst thing in the world.

‘A scandal can ruin lives,’ Harry said resolutely. ‘Even end lives,’ he added too quietly for Lady Fortescue to hear.

‘It depends on the person and the nature of the scandal, I suppose.’

Harry thought of his sister. She’d always been strong, vivacious, until the fateful night when her reputation had been dashed by a scoundrel of a young man and a few malicious onlookers. Before it had happened Harry would have said his sister could withstand anything; now he knew how fragile people could be.

‘I am grateful for your concern,’ Lady Fortescue said softly, the coolness of her demeanour lifting slightly. ‘You want to do the honourable thing and I’m sure any other young woman would be delighted to continue with a sham engagement until the rumours were lessened, if not forgotten.’

‘But not you?’

Every word she uttered was considered and carefully chosen, every movement precise. And every moment that passed by Harry found himself becoming more and more intrigued by the notorious Lady Fortescue.

‘People already say the worst about me—another rumour is not going to make much difference.’

Harry wasn’t so sure. Sometimes even the weakest of gossip could be turned into something hurtful and malicious.

Sitting up even straighter in her seat, Lady Fortescue fixed Harry with an assessing gaze. ‘Unless you have a reason to want to avoid the scandal.’

Of course he did. The Edgerton family name had been dragged through the dirt after his sister’s disgrace, but Harry was titled and reasonably wealthy and his reputation wouldn’t suffer overly much by being caught in a compromising position with Lady Fortescue. Especially if he married a nice, respectable young woman in a few months’ time. No, his reason for being here today wasn’t for himself or the rest of the Edgertons—in fact, he knew by embroiling himself with such a notorious widow he was opening himself up for more gossip and scandal than if he just stayed away. The real reason for him being here today was a sense of wanting to do the right thing by a young woman who might have a bad reputation, but seemed decent and vulnerable in Harry’s assessment. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so insistent a year ago, but seeing his sister go through just such a scandal had awakened him to the hurt a woman could suffer at the hands of an unscrupulous man.

‘Not at all,’ Harry said. Lady Fortescue did not need to hear the dark, intimate Edgerton family secrets. ‘There is simply the matter of our supposed engagement to deal with.’

For the first time today Lady Fortescue smiled, her eyes sparkling with repressed humour. ‘You can throw me over, I really don’t mind.’

‘Shall I say I caught you in the arms of another man?’ Harry couldn’t help himself, he wanted to see how far he could push her before she cracked.

There was a beat of silence, then Lady Fortescue’s shoulders sagged a little, the perfect posture disappearing and with it some of the formality she exuded.

‘I’ve been rude,’ she said, her voice softer, less clipped. ‘Inexcusably so. I apologise. I suppose I’m not used to talking to people.’

The door opened before Harry could answer, the elderly butler followed closely by a young maid.

‘I thought you might like to offer your guest some tea, my lady,’ the butler said.

The maid set down a tray with two teacups, a pot, a jug of milk and a plate of crumbly biscuits before hurriedly leaving the room. The butler hesitated for a moment at the door.

‘Perhaps the gentleman will be staying for lunch?’ he asked, almost hopefully.

Lady Fortescue laughed, exuding warmth towards the elderly servant, her grey eyes glittering as she turned back to Harry.

‘I’m sure you’re far too busy.’

He inclined his head. There was always work to be done running his country estate and looking over the accounts, but he could of course have made time for lunch.

The butler left, muttering something about a proper invitation before closing the door behind him.

‘Your uncle’s butler seems very keen to have guests to wait upon.’

‘I expect my cousin, Beatrice, put him up to asking. He is completely devoted to her, probably would jump in front of a horse if she asked him to without a second’s thought.’

‘Your cousin is playing matchmaker?’

Lady Fortescue grimaced, a reaction that would have normally dented Harry’s pride, but he was quickly learning this young widow was strongly opposed to any future romantic link.

‘Forgive me for not ordering tea sooner,’ she said. ‘I am not used to entertaining guests.’

Most wives of titled gentlemen were exemplary hosts, their main role to welcome guests into a well-looked-after home, but perhaps during her mourning period Lady Fortescue had locked herself away out of devotion to her late husband and forgotten the basics of hospitality.

Harry sipped his tea, selected a biscuit and munched on it. All in all it had been a strange morning. He’d expected to come away with an engagement, at least in name, to Lady Fortescue. Instead he’d been more or less dismissed, despite the young widow’s softening in the last part of their interview.

Standing, Harry was just about to take his leave when the door opened again and the doddery butler entered.

‘A package for you, my lady.’

He’d never seen the blood drain from someone’s face as quickly as it did from Lady Fortescue’s. Quietly she thanked the butler, who placed the package on the table in front of her before leaving the room.

Her hands were shaking as she stood, an unnaturally sunny smile plastered on her face.

‘Thank you for visiting.’ Her words came out as a choked whisper, and a hand flew to her mouth as if to claw them back in.

Chapter Three

The world was spinning, or that was how it seemed to Anna. Everything in the room had gone blurry and she felt herself stagger uncoordinatedly a few steps to one side. Before she could get her panic under control strong arms had looped around her waist and were guiding her back to the armchair, pressing her firmly, insistently, into the seat.

‘Take deep, slow breaths.’ Lord Edgerton’s voice was quiet and calm in her ear.

Silently Anna cursed. Two minutes later and Lord Edgerton would have left. Now there would be questions, enquiries about her health, probably even a follow-up visit. At least the rules of politeness meant he would not enquire what was in the package.

‘What on earth is in that package?’ Lord Edgerton murmured, more to himself than to her. ‘That’s it, long, deep breaths, you’ll feel recovered in a moment.’

Thankfully he didn’t seem inclined to call for a servant or her cousin to come and attend her; he seemed perfectly content to deal with this himself. Anna had to admire a man who could deal calmly with a panicking near-stranger—most would just step back and convince themselves it wasn’t their problem.

Opening her eyes, she saw the room had come back into focus. In front of her she could see her hands gripping the arms of the chair so firmly her knuckles had turned white, and a few feet further away was the offending package.

‘Have some tea,’ Lord Edgerton suggested, backing away and sitting down in the other armchair, his demeanour remarkably relaxed.

She declined with a shake of her head. The teacup would only rattle in the saucer and give away quite how discomposed she was, if the attack of panic hadn’t done that enough already.

‘Tell me it is none of my concern,’ Lord Edgerton said, his eyes fixed on hers, ‘but what could be so awful about this package on the table?’

‘It is none of your concern,’ Anna said, trying to inject some haughtiness into her voice, but failing miserably—the squeak that came forth from her mouth was more adolescent girl than woman of the world.

Lord Edgerton actually grinned. ‘The gossips say you are unreadable, Lady Fortescue. Unreadable and superior, but I think they’ve got you all wrong. Right now I can read you as easily as I read the morning papers.’ He paused, catching her eye and holding it until Anna was forced to look away. ‘You’re petrified of whatever is inside that box.’

Slowly she inclined her head; there was no point denying it. He’d witnessed her reaction first-hand.

‘What do you think is inside?’

‘Truly, I have no idea,’ she said honestly. It could be a bloodied rag, a pile of excrement, a particularly graphic and threatening letter. All of these things she’d received in similar packages over the last few weeks. ‘But it won’t be anything pleasant.’

‘There’s no markings to say where or who it is from. How can you be so sure it will be something unpleasant?’

Instead of answering Anna stood, steeling herself mentally before raising her hands and starting to open the package. Her fingers were shaking so badly that she fumbled with the string that held the box closed. Quickly Lord Edgerton rose to his feet and placed a cool hand on top of hers, stilling her fingers.

‘Allow me,’ he said, not waiting for her to reply before unfastening the string and opening the box.

The sharp inhalation of surprise told Anna that he hadn’t been prepared for whatever was inside. She stepped forward, but Lord Edgerton moved in front of her, blocking her view. As he raised his hands to her arms she flinched, as she always did whenever anyone touched her, but he gripped her gently but insistently, moving her away from the table.

‘What was inside?’ Anna asked.

‘A dead animal.’

Anna felt the bile rise up in her throat. The vendetta against her was escalating. In a few short weeks it had gone from threatening letters to a dead animal in a box.

‘What sort of animal?’

‘A cat, I think.’

Anna stiffened, torn between breaking free from Lord Edgerton’s grip and seeing for herself, and burying her head in his shoulder and crying for the animal she knew instinctively was in that box.

‘A ginger cat? Small?’

Lord Edgerton nodded. ‘Was it yours?’

Morosely Anna nodded. Beatrice had bought her the animal soon after Anna had come to live in London. It had been her younger cousin’s attempt to brighten Anna’s days and in a strange and unexpected way it had worked. At least until a few days ago when the lovely creature had gone missing.

Lord Edgerton turned to her, his face fixed in an expression of determination. ‘You need to tell me what is going on here.’

She needed to do nothing of the sort. He was little more than a stranger, albeit a chivalrous one. For a moment she avoided his eyes, trying to work out exactly what she could say to make Lord Edgerton go away and forget what he had seen here. It was a deep instinct, this need to deal with her problems with no help from anyone else. For so long she’d been on her own—even through her marriages she’d never found a true companion, someone to share the difficulties of daily life with.

‘I think you should leave,’ Anna said quietly, knowing he would protest, but trying all the same.

‘Not a chance.’

‘This really is none of your concern.’

‘Would you rather I called your uncle in here? Or your cousin?’

Silently Anna shook her head.

‘I thought not. You haven’t told them, have you?’ he asked.

‘There is no need. I am dealing with it.’

‘You’ve had similar packages before?’

Closing her eyes for a moment, Anna assessed her options. Either she could confide a little in Lord Edgerton, just enough to satisfy his curiosity, or she could insist he leave and risk him informing her uncle of what was happening.

‘Can we go for a walk?’ she asked, eyeing the package from a distance.

‘Of course. What would you like done with the box?’

Anna felt the tears building in her eyes. Although she’d always insisted she wasn’t an animal lover, her little cat had brought her happiness in a time of fear and uncertainty.

‘Perhaps you would like to bury the cat discreetly?’

Before she could answer he picked up the box, folded the lid over to shield the dead animal from her eyes and tucked it under his arm.

‘I will meet you on the front steps.’

Anna watched in amazement as he left the room, crossed the hallway and quickly descended the stairs to the basement, no doubt in search of a servant to help him with whatever it was he had in mind. Although she prized her independence, in this situation it was rather pleasant to have someone else take charge and make the decisions.

* * *

Lady Fortescue had just emerged into the hallway when Harry came striding up the stairs from the basement kitchen, taking them two at a time. He’d found a footman and paid him a generous sum to store the package somewhere discreet, warning the man against looking inside. To ensure he would comply, Harry had tied the string in a complicated knot which meant he would know if it had been tampered with. Later he would organise for the box to be buried in the garden and for the gardener to mark the spot with a rose or some other flower of Lady Fortescue’s choice.

‘Shall we take a walk to the park?’ he suggested, offering Lady Fortescue his arm.

She nodded, her face still ashen from the surprise of finding out what was in the parcel.

They left the house and walked in silence for a few minutes, Harry content to let his companion gather her thoughts before pressing her for answers. He wasn’t sure what she’d got herself mixed up in, but his curiosity had been piqued and some deep-seated instinct meant he couldn’t abandon a woman in distress even if on the surface she didn’t want his help.

‘I’m not sure how much you know about me,’ Lady Fortescue said quietly as they entered Hyde Park. It was a sunny day, but still chilly for April, and there weren’t many people out taking the air at this hour.

‘Not all that much,’ Harry said, realising it was the truth. He’d heard many rumours, but none of them had included any information of substance.

‘I’ve been married three times,’ Lady Fortescue said, looking straight ahead as she spoke. ‘My first husband was elderly and infirm, wealthy, of course, with a title. My father arranged the marriage and it was assumed it would not be a long-lasting union. He died seven months after we were married.’

‘Lord Humphries,’ Harry said. He remembered the announcement now and his mother sympathising with the young debutante who’d been forced into marrying such an elderly man.

‘I was in mourning for a year and then I met Captain Trevels. I was a widow of some means and independent enough to make my own decisions, so I married Captain Trevels against my father’s wishes.’

This union Harry had been unaware of. No doubt Lady Fortescue’s family had wanted to hush up what they saw as an inferior match for their daughter.

‘Soon after we married my husband was sent to India for a year. On his return he was dreadfully unwell and died only four weeks after our reunion.’

Two dead husbands in the space of a couple of years, but despite the society gossip there seemed nothing untoward about the deaths. Elderly men and officers of the army died all too often.

‘Unfortunately my second husband had been a little too free with my inheritance and after my mourning period was complete I was dependent again on my father.’

‘He chose your third husband?’

‘I managed to hold out for two whole months before I agreed to marry Lord Fortescue,’ she said with a grimace, ‘but even at the very beginning I knew I had no choice. Eventually I would end up as Lady Fortescue.’

For such a private person Lady Fortescue was being remarkably open and honest about her past. Harry wondered if she found it easier talking to him, a relative stranger, than someone who was close to her. If he probed too much, got too close, he was sure it would be easy for her to push him away.

‘Lord Fortescue had three children from his first marriage, all grown adults now. They resented our marriage from the very start. My husband was fifty-eight when we married, in good health and very physically active.’

‘And then he died,’ Harry summarised.

‘And then he died. Of course his children tried to blame me. They threw me out of the house, have contested the settlements I am entitled to from the estate and even asked the local magistrate to investigate my husband’s death.’

‘So they’re the ones sending you these horrible packages?’

‘I don’t know.’ The words sounded so pitiful that Harry wondered just how much this young woman was having to deal with all on her own. ‘The packages only started arriving when I came out of mourning. I wonder if the Fortescue children would have waited so long.’

‘How many have there been?’

‘Four packages, and two letters.’

‘What was in the other packages?’

Lady Fortescue shuddered, her fingers tightening their grip on his arm involuntarily.

‘One was full of excrement, from a horse, I think. One had a bloodied scarf and another an animal’s heart.’

‘And the content of the letters?’

‘Vile words, threats, profanities.’

‘But no clue as to the author?’

She shook her head. They walked on in silence for a few minutes, Harry trying to take in everything he’d just been told.

‘Have you told anyone?’

She turned to him, her large grey eyes wide, and shook her head. ‘Only you.’

Harry felt his pulse quicken as she regarded him with an expression of reluctant hopefulness. Even though their acquaintance was only a brief one already he felt a desire building not to disappoint her. Swallowing, he realised his mouth was dry and his tongue felt heavy behind his lips. Lady Fortescue might not be an exotic beauty, but she possessed a quiet, mesmerising quality that made it difficult to walk away.

‘Lord Edgerton, what a delight,’ a middle-aged woman called from some distance away and Harry had to search his memory for her name and the circumstances of their acquaintance. ‘I’d heard rumours you and Lady Fortescue were engaged, and here you are walking out together. How lovely.’

‘Mrs Henderson,’ Harry said, taking the woman’s proffered hand. ‘It has been too long.’

‘You must tell me,’ Mrs Henderson said, flashing a smile at Lady Fortescue, ‘how you managed to catch such a fine man as Lord Edgerton. I have an unmarried daughter and the best offer we’ve had so far is from the local vicar.’

From many women there would have been at least a hint of envy, but Mrs Henderson was a cheerful, unjudgemental soul who wouldn’t begrudge a young couple’s happiness.

‘I have to confess I have no idea how it happened,’ Lady Fortescue said softly.

At least she wasn’t denying their engagement to anyone who would listen now. It would work out much better if they could pretend to be promised to one another for a month or two and then quietly break off the engagement. Harry was under no illusion that they would be able to avoid a scandal completely, but at least it would be at a moment of their own choosing.

‘I will leave you to continue your walk,’ Mrs Henderson said, ‘without the interruptions of a nosy old lady.’

‘It is always a pleasure, Mrs Henderson.’

‘The entirety of London society will know we have been out walking together by the end of the evening,’ Lady Fortescue said with a shake of her head, following Mrs Henderson’s departure with her solemn grey eyes. ‘I don’t understand why people are so interested in the lives of others.’

‘Boredom and human nature,’ Harry said with a shrug. Gently he guided Lady Fortescue over to a bench situated just in front of a small pond. ‘Let me help you.’

‘How? Why?’

‘You’re not very trusting.’ It was said in jest, but he felt his companion stiffen next to him. ‘Let me help you get to the bottom of who is sending you those packages, who is threatening you,’ he ploughed on quickly.

‘I’m sure you have much better things to be doing with your time.’

‘Give me six weeks. If I haven’t found out who is behind the threats by then, I will admit defeat.’

Six weeks should be plenty of time to find the culprit. Harry had spent five years in the army and, although he had fought in his share of skirmishes, most of the time he had been deployed to gather information, to blend in with the locals and uncover any plots and plans. Those were skills you never lost once acquired and it had been a while since Harry had been given a challenge like this.

‘Why would you?’ Lady Fortescue asked, turning those searching grey eyes on Harry and making him feel as though she were staring past his face and into his mind.

‘No one should have to live in fear. No one should have to endure what you are enduring every single day.’

There was more to it than that, but Harry couldn’t tell Lady Fortescue he’d seen the same desperate expression she’d had on her face when the package had arrived before. That in the weeks after his sister had been humiliated and shamed he’d seen that emptiness, that desperation. He had failed Lydia in her time of need and the results had been almost fatal—he would not let another woman suffer alone.

‘Let me consider the idea,’ she said.

‘Shall I call on you tomorrow?’

‘I have some business to conduct in the morning, but perhaps you would care to dine with us at lunchtime.’

‘Perfect. I will look forward to it.’

Instinctively he raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. Although she concealed it well, Harry sensed her discomfort at even this most innocent of contact. Moving away, he wondered just what had happened to Lady Fortescue to make her so averse to human touch.

Chapter Four

‘There’s been a problem, ma’am,’ Billy Godden said as he rapped on the door and strode into the office, his face grim.

‘Tell me, Billy.’

‘Reports of a storm off the coast of Portugal. The Tildenhall Shipping Company have lost three ships, the London Shipping Company two and there are rumours many more have gone down.’

Anna closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to digest this newest disaster that had befallen the company since she had taken over managing it.

‘Both the Lady Magdalene and the Norfolk were scheduled to be sailing along the coast of Portugal.’ Anna stood and crossed to the shelving unit on the opposite wall, running her fingers along the handwritten labels until she came to the correct one. Quickly she pulled out a large map, unrolled it and laid it on her desk. ‘Where did the storm hit?’

Billy took his time, consulting a small notebook and tracing his fingers over the map before pointing out an area just to the south of the city of Porto.

Trying to keep calm, Anna opened the ledgers that contained the details of the routes and cargos of the two ships.

‘If on schedule, the Norfolk should be out of danger—it is due to round the Cabo de Roca tomorrow.’

‘And the Lady Magdalene?’

Tracing the predicted route with her finger, Anna grimaced.

‘There have been no sightings?’ she asked. ‘No reports of it docking in Lisbon for repairs?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Nothing, ma’am.’

Resisting the urge to sink to the floor in despair, Anna rolled up the map and then focused on the details in the ledger. Twenty-four sailors were aboard the Lady Magdalene—she just hoped they were unharmed.

‘Send out messages to anyone who might have information and see if you can persuade one of your men they might like a trip to Portugal to investigate if there are no sightings within the week. I will deal with the clients.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Once she was alone Anna allowed her body to sag. The loss of a ship was devastating for any shipping company, but many of the larger outfits could withstand one loss here and there. The Trevels Shipping Company was still in its infancy. After the death of Lord Fortescue, the only thing his children had not contested was her ownership of the small shipping company her second husband had owned and run into the ground. When Anna had revived it she’d barely hoped that they would survive a year, but slowly they were emerging from the piles of debts and starting to make a small and hard-won profit. A disaster like this could cripple them.

Straightening up, Anna closed the ledger. She would not overreact. As yet there was no evidence the Lady Magdalene had sunk. The captain was experienced and knew how to handle a ship in a storm, and the ship itself was one of their newer vessels.

With a glance at the clock that hung above the fireplace Anna grimaced. Already she was late for lunch and now she had to compile a list of the clients whose goods were aboard the Lady Magdalene and decide when to contact them. Quickly she scribbled a note, explaining the delay to her uncle. Uncle Phillip had never tried to control her movements, never quibbled when she was called out to attend to business or missed the odd meal here or there, but he did worry if she didn’t inform him that she would be delayed. The office for the shipping company was situated in the docks, not the most salubrious of areas, and although Anna had become used to most of the more colourful characters, she still ensured she never walked alone outside the office.

‘Lady Fortescue, hard at work as usual, I see.’ A large man burst through the door without knocking.

Anna forced a smile. Roger Maltravers ran the biggest and most profitable shipping company in London and had his office situated on the other side of the docks, the more prosperous side, but that didn’t stop his frequent visits to the offices of the Trevels Shipping Company.

‘I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it again, not proper work for a woman, this shipping business. And certainly not one as lovely as you.’ As he spoke he wandered around the office, fingering charts and ledgers, peering at the maps on the walls.

Anna clenched her teeth together to try to hide her irritation. It wasn’t that she disliked Roger Maltravers, but she didn’t particularly like him either. He was too effusive, too sure of himself, and ever since her company had started to have a modicum of success he’d been trying to persuade her to join her company with his.

‘Awful storm off Portugal, I hear,’ he said casually.

‘So I am told,’ Anna said, wondering if he didn’t notice the coolness in her voice or if he just ignored it.

‘Could be devastating if you lost one of your ships.’

‘We have insurance.’

‘Crafty scoundrels, you’ll never see a penny back.’ He paused and Anna knew what was coming next. It was the same every week, had been for the past six months. ‘You wouldn’t have to worry your pretty head about issues like this if you married me. I would look after you.’

Anna stood, smoothing down her skirts.

‘A very kind offer, Mr Maltravers, but I am a widow three times over and have resolved not to marry again.’

‘Dastardly shame.’

‘My mind is made up.’

‘You need a man to look after you.’

‘I have my uncle.’

‘You need a husband.’

Anna felt the irritation bubbling inside, straining for release. She’d had three husbands and not one of them had looked after her, not really. The only person she could truly rely on was herself.

‘It doesn’t sit well with me the idea of a vulnerable young woman alone in the world. There are bad people out there, people ready to take advantage. I only want to protect you, Lady Fortescue.’

‘I have a lot of work to do today, Mr Maltravers, please excuse me.’

She crossed to the door and opened it for him.

‘I shall call on you tomorrow,’ Mr Maltravers said as he left reluctantly, calling over his shoulder, ‘Think about what I’ve said.’

Anna resisted the urge to slam the door behind him, instead closing it softly and resting her forehead on the cool wood. She knew it was beyond unusual for a woman to run a business, let alone a shipping company. She was one woman in a world full of men, but there was absolutely no way she would ever give up her freedom and her independence again.

* * *

Harry frowned as he strolled through the docks, keeping his wits sharp and his pace brisk. The area wasn’t the worst in London, but it wasn’t far off. Surely he must have the address wrong, surely Lady Fortescue’s uncle hadn’t meant to send him here?

He’d arrived for lunch at Mr Tenby’s residence at the agreed time, only to find Lady Fortescue hadn’t returned home. Her uncle wasn’t overly concerned and Harry got the impression this was a regular occurrence.

Rather than dine without his fiancée, Harry had offered to go and find her and escort her home, hence his trip to the docks. When he’d made the offer he had assumed she was out shopping, or perhaps taking tea with a friend, not running a business in one of the most notorious parts of London. Lady Fortescue was becoming more interesting with every snippet of information he picked up about her.

Glancing at the piece of paper with the address, Harry started to ascend a rickety set of wooden stairs, having to pause on the way up to let a large man pass him on his way back to ground level.

Harry knocked on the door and was surprised when it was flung open immediately, with some force.

‘Mr Maltravers, I must insist...’ Lady Fortescue trailed off, her eyes widening in surprise. ‘Lord Edgerton,’ she managed after a few seconds.

‘Lady Fortescue.’ Harry bowed, trying to conceal a smile. He found he rather liked surprising his so-called fiancée.

‘I invited you to lunch,’ she said softly, a hand covering her lips. ‘And then didn’t turn up.’

‘A more sensitive man might be offended,’ Harry said, following her into the office and looking around him with interest.

‘You’re not offended?’

‘Your uncle tells me it happens all the time. Not forgetting guests, but forgetting meals.’

‘I don’t often have guests,’ Lady Fortescue said quietly.

He’d been in such offices before, when organising shipments or booking passage to the Continent, but usually they were run by weathered old men, men who looked like the sea had chewed them up and spat them out. They were not run by gently bred young ladies, even notorious widows.

‘This is your business?’ he asked eventually, studying a detailed map of the English Channel.

‘My late husband...’ Lady Fortescue paused and corrected herself, ‘My second late husband, Captain Trevels, owned this business. It came to me on his death and it was one of the few things I was allowed to keep possession of throughout my last marriage.’

‘It is an unusual business for a woman,’ Harry said bluntly.

Lady Fortescue smiled, not the usual, polite upturning of the corner of her lips, but a proper, full on smile of amusement.

‘You’re very direct, Lord Edgerton.’

‘Perhaps you should call me Harry. We are engaged after all.’

‘We’re pretending to be engaged,’ Lady Fortescue corrected, just in case he forgot. ‘Harry,’ she said his name quietly as if trying it out on her tongue. He saw the faintest of blushes blossom on her cheeks, gone before he could even be sure it was truly there.

He waited for her to offer her given name. He waited so long he began to wonder if she might insist he call her Lady Fortescue for the rest of their acquaintance.

‘My name is Anna.’

‘It is a very unusual business for a woman, Anna,’ Harry repeated.

She shrugged, that small movement that Harry was beginning to associate with his fiancée, and smiled. ‘Most men would say any business is a strange one for a woman.’

‘That’s very true.’ He saw her stiffen a little and leaned in closer. ‘But most men are fools,’ he said quietly. ‘Now, your uncle promised to save us some lunch, if you can spare an hour or two.’

She glanced at the pile of papers on the huge wooden desk and hesitated.

‘You’ll work more efficiently on a full stomach.’

‘A quick lunch,’ Anna conceded.

‘And you can tell me about the world of shipping.’

Chapter Five

As the music in the ballroom swelled above the chatter Anna found herself looking around in anticipation. Against her better judgement she had agreed to attend the Carmichael ball this evening, a ball that Lord Edgerton, Harry, would be making an appearance at, too.

She had been doing a lot of things against her better judgement these past few days: agreeing to this sham engagement just to avoid a little scandal, allowing Harry into her life and confiding in him about the malicious parcels she’d been receiving. After a long time spent being a meek and mild wife, Anna didn’t usually give in to anyone easily now she had her much wished-for freedom and independence, but Harry seemed to be able to get her to agree to anything with his confident persistence.

‘You’re thinking about him,’ Beatrice said breathlessly, sitting down beside her and taking a large gulp from the glass of lemonade Anna had been holding.

‘Who?’

‘Who?’ Beatrice laughed. ‘Your fiancé, who else?’

‘Fiancé in name only,’ Anna said, lowering her voice. She didn’t want her cousin to get carried away in a romantic fantasy.

‘For now. Admit you were thinking about him.’

‘Shouldn’t you find your partner for the next dance?’

‘Hah, I knew it. You were daydreaming about him.’

‘Beatrice Tenby, don’t be so ridiculous. I haven’t daydreamed about anything or anyone in the past five years.’

Handing the glass of lemonade back to her, Beatrice stood.

‘I don’t think you’re half as prim and proper as you make out.’ Beatrice flounced off, swishing her skirts and fluttering her eyelashes at any young man who glanced in her direction.

‘I do hope not,’ a low voice said in her ear.

Anna stood abruptly, using all her self-control not to exclaim out loud. Lord Edgerton—Harry, she reminded herself—was standing directly behind her. He took her hand, bowing over it before straightening and giving her a wink.

‘It would seem we’re the centre of attention,’ Harry said quietly.

Nonchalantly Anna glanced to the left and right. Everyone around them was deeply engrossed in conversation. Too deeply engrossed. Behind the uninterested façade they were watching every move Harry and Anna made.

‘I trust you are well, Lord Edgerton,’ she said loud enough for the gossips to hear.

‘Very well, Lady Fortescue. Perhaps you will do me the honour of granting me this dance.’

Anna stiffened. She didn’t dance, at least not any more. Her role here was purely that of chaperon to Beatrice. She was expected to sit on the periphery of the ballroom, watch the young women dance and laugh and be merry, and hold the lemonade whenever her cousin retreated to the edges for a rest.

‘I’d wager you are a fabulous dancer.’

Once. Once she’d been as carefree and happy as Beatrice. She’d whirled across ballroom after ballroom, content to let her partner of the moment guide her, happy to trust a man she barely knew completely for those few minutes of the dance.

‘I don’t dance.’

Harry stepped back and regarded her. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said finally.

‘You don’t believe me?’

‘I don’t believe you. You have more grace than a dancer in the ballet.’

He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. There was no way she could refuse and a part of her felt a spark of excitement at the thought of dancing again.

Slowly she placed her hand in his and stood, allowing Harry to lead her to the dance floor. The last dance was just finishing, the dancers breathless and flushed from the quick steps to a lively tempo. There was a brief pause before the musicians struck up again, this time with the unmistakable first notes of a waltz.

‘My lucky night,’ Harry murmured.

He gripped her lightly, guiding her to a space on the dance floor and smiling before leading her across the room. As the seconds passed Anna felt herself relaxing, Harry was a good dancer and despite her years spent away from balls and ballrooms Anna felt the steps returning like long-lost friends. As they twirled past the other couples Anna could feel her spirits soaring. There was a freedom in dancing, a wonderful feeling that you might take flight, and she couldn’t believe she had gone so long without experiencing it.

They didn’t speak while they danced and Anna found herself sneaking the odd glance at her companion. Beatrice was right, he was handsome, although maybe not in the conventional sense. Most men of the ton followed fashion closely. They wore intricately decorated waistcoats and spent time and money styling their hair as well as their clothes. Harry stood out in the ballroom exactly because he didn’t do those things. His hair was cut short and his clothes were no doubt expensive and finely made, but lacked the excessive pomp of the other men in the ballroom. What he did have was presence. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, but more than physical size he exuded a confidence that could not be imitated—you were either born with it or not.

As the dance drew to a close Anna found herself disappointed. For a moment she had been transported back to the carefree days when she’d been a debutante. Before the marriages and the husbands, when the only reprimand she would get if she laughed too loud or danced too merrily was a stern word from her father.

‘Do you care for a breath of air?’ Harry asked as he escorted her from the dance floor. He picked up two glasses of champagne as they passed a table lined with sparkling flutes and offered her one.

‘I’m doing all the things I cautioned Beatrice against,’ Anna said, still allowing Harry to lead her out on to the terrace.

The raised patio stretched the whole length of the back of the house and was well illuminated with lanterns. Coy young women strolled arm in arm with swaggering young men, while the more daring of couples whispered in darkened corners. Steps led from the raised terrace into the garden, with only the first few feet visible in the moonlight. Every debutante with hopes of a good match would have been warned from straying any further from the ballroom, but inevitably someone would be caught where they shouldn’t tonight.

‘Did you enjoy our waltz?’ Harry asked as he led her to the stone balustrade. They leaned on the smooth stone and gazed out into the garden, their forearms almost touching.

There was no point in denying it. Anna knew her love of dancing had been rekindled and any onlooker would have been able to tell with a single glance how much she enjoyed her first waltz for many years.

‘I did, thank you.’

‘Your late husband wasn’t much of a dancer?’ Harry asked.

Anna shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Early in the marriage they had attended various balls and functions together and Anna had made the mistake of accepting a young man’s invitation to dance after Lord Fortescue had made it clear he would not be making an appearance on the dance floor. Her husband had seen the dance as a betrayal and Anna had paid a high price for her few minutes of merriment.

‘I thought you didn’t like champagne,’ Anna said, motioning to the half-empty glass in Harry’s hand, latching on to the first thing she’d seen to try to steer the topic of conversation away from her disastrous marriage.

‘I thought it best we didn’t sneak through the house in search of something more palatable and get caught in a compromising position a second time within two weeks.’

‘Probably for the best,’ Anna murmured.

‘Tell me,’ Harry said, turning to her, ‘what made you agree to be a chaperon for your cousin?’

‘My uncle asked.’

‘That was all?’

‘I owe him a lot, not that he would ever ask anything I wasn’t comfortable with.’

‘He took you in after the death of Lord Fortescue?’

‘Among other things.’

He’d done so much more than take her in. Anna had been broken, barely surviving when Uncle Phillip came and swept her into his loving home. He’d given her space to heal and provided gentle reminders that not everyone was a monster.

‘I think he is the only person to ever love me unconditionally,’ Anna said quietly.

‘What about your parents?’

She shrugged before she could stop herself. Shrugging was a habit she’d always had, but Lord Fortescue had hated the miniscule movement of her shoulder. This past year she still repressed many of her natural reactions, but slowly they were creeping back.

‘My mother died when I was a young child, I barely remember her. My father...’ She paused, wondering how best to describe him. ‘I’m sure he did care, he just didn’t think a gentleman should be affectionate, so most of the time I had no idea what he was thinking.’

‘I’m glad you have someone to care for you.’ There was a softness to Harry’s voice that made her turn and look at him. He was smiling at her, a smile filled with warmth that crinkled the skin around his eyes and suddenly Anna was aware of just how attractive her companion actually was. As her pulse quickened she tried to gain control of herself with a sharp reprimand, but found her body swaying towards Harry before she could stop herself.

Their arms touched, just a sliver of contact, but enough to cause a spark of excitement to jump through Anna’s body. Here in the moonlight, with the beautiful music from the ballroom drifting on the evening breeze, Anna felt the first surge of hopeful anticipation.

Shaking herself, she managed to look away and as soon as she did the spell was broken. Quickly she took a step back, pretending to adjust her skirts to cover her confusion. It was the warm evening’s air, and perhaps a touch too much champagne, that had caused her momentary lapse in sanity, nothing more.

Harry was looking at her with an amused expression and she wondered how much he’d been able to read on her face.

‘You should be ashamed,’ a low voice hissed behind them.

Quickly Anna spun around, stepping back as she recognised the woman striding towards them. Before she had time to react Miss Antonia Fortescue, her spiteful stepdaughter, had stepped much closer than Anna was comfortable with, only stopping when their noses were almost touching.

‘Miss Fortescue,’ Anna said, her voice devoid of emotion, ‘I did not expect to see you here.’ It was the politest thing Anna could bring herself to say.

‘Look at you, making merry with my father barely in the ground.’

‘Your father died over a year ago, Miss Fortescue. My mourning period has finished.’

Anna thought her stepdaughter might reach out and strike her at that comment, but her disdain was limited to a narrowing of the eyes.

‘Miss Fortescue?’ Harry asked, stepping between the two women.

‘Yes?’ Miss Fortescue snapped, glancing at Harry before returning her unwavering gaze to Anna.

‘I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced. I am Lord Edgerton.’

His title, and no doubt his reputation, earned him another glance from Miss Fortescue. Anna prayed he would keep silent about their sham engagement. The last thing she needed was for her late husband’s family to find out she’d become engaged again.

‘I hope you know what company you keep, Lord Edgerton.’

‘Lady Fortescue is the most amenable of companions,’ Harry said.

Antonia snorted, an unladylike sound that required her to screw up her nose and turn an already unattractive face into something pinched and malicious.

‘Your stepmother was just explaining how she gained an entire family when she married into the Fortescue clan,’ Harry said, without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Anna looked at him appraisingly—he might come across as easy-going and mild-mannered, but her companion was sharp and intelligent along with it.

‘She is no stepmother of mine.’

Silence followed. There wasn’t really much else to say, but Antonia seemed reluctant to move on.

‘I understand you haven’t seen much of Lady Fortescue since your father’s passing,’ Harry said, his voice suitably sombre. ‘Perhaps we should remedy that.’

Anna felt her jaw clench as she turned slowly towards Harry. She tried to communicate how much she would like him to be silent with just a dramatic widening of her eyes, but he flashed her a smile and wilfully ignored her, pushing on with his invitation.

‘I’m having a little house party, the weekend after next. It’s at my country estate, just south of Sevenoaks. We’d be delighted if you could attend. And your brothers, of course.’

Anna didn’t know who was more shocked, her or Antonia, but they both stood with mouths slightly opened, unable to utter a word.

‘Fantastic,’ Harry said. ‘We look forward to seeing you there.’

Anna felt him grip her arm and guide her along the terrace, no doubt planning on escaping before she or Antonia had a chance to collect themselves and protest at the idea of spending more than a few seconds in each other’s company.

* * *

Harry was feeling rather pleased with himself. The evening was going well, exceedingly well. He’d managed to claim a dance from his initially reluctant fiancée, watch her eyes light up as he whisked her around the ballroom and see some of her legendary composure slip as they stood side by side on the terrace. To top it all, he’d furthered his little investigation into the horrible packages Anna was receiving by inviting his main suspect to a country house party.

Next to him Anna walked with her head held high, but her fingers were digging into his arm through his jacket. He hadn’t warned her of his plan, there hadn’t been the opportunity, but he was sure once she’d recovered from the shock she would see it was the sensible thing to do: gather all the possible culprits in one place and wait for them to strike.

They’d just reached the end of the terrace when he felt Anna’s grip on his arm tighten even more. Before he knew what was happening she’d whisked him around the corner and down a short set of stone steps to the shadowy lawn below. In ten quick paces she’d pressed him into an alcove, hidden from view from the terrace above.

‘Lady Fortescue,’ he murmured, ‘I thought we were going to try our best to behave this evening.’

She was standing close to him, so close he could smell the lavender scent of her hair and before he could stop himself he reached out and tucked a stray, coppery strand behind her ear.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ Anna asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, but managing to convey the depth of her fury all the same.

‘A strand of hair...’

‘Up on the terrace, with Miss Fortescue.’

‘Being polite.’

‘To a woman who might be sending me—’ She broke off, her voice faltering at the memory of what was in the last package.

‘We’re never going to get to the bottom of what’s happening if we avoid the people who might be responsible. We need to observe them, confront them, push them into making a mistake.’

‘By inviting them to stay under the same roof as us?’

‘I’ll be there to look out for you.’

Anna closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘I barely know you,’ she said quietly.

‘That’s not true.’ Although they had only met for the first time a little over a week ago Harry felt as though they’d known each other for much longer.

‘You do not get to make decisions about my life,’ Anna said, her voice low but firm. ‘No one gets to make decisions about my life.’

There was such conviction as she spoke, such determination, that Harry wondered what had happened to drive her to this point. She didn’t trust anyone and clung to her independence more than any woman he had ever encountered. It should be annoying, but Harry found himself admiring her more for her strength.

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said, knowing when to take a step back and regroup. ‘I should have discussed my idea about the house party with you first.’

The apology seemed to disarm her and Harry watched as some of the fury seeped from her body. Without thinking he raised a hand and smoothed the furrow between her eyebrows. She stiffened at his touch, but did not jerk away, instead slowly raising her eyes to meet his own.

For an instant Harry wanted nothing more in the world than to kiss her. He wanted to cover her lips with his own, gather her to his body and kiss her until she forgot whatever it was that was making her frown.

‘Perhaps we should discuss it tomorrow,’ Anna said, taking a step back.

‘Good idea.’

Anna looked around her as if only just realising where they were. A sardonic smile crossed her lips.

‘Thankfully the world thinks we are engaged,’ she said, ‘or this would be an even bigger scandal than us being discovered together at the Prendersons’ ball.’

All the same she peered out into the darkness carefully, judging her moment to return to the ballroom. Just as she was about to dash out from the alcove Harry caught her hand.

‘Dance with me,’ he said.

‘Here? Don’t be silly.’

‘No one can see us.’

‘People will be wondering where we are.’

‘Let them wonder.’

‘This whole engagement is to try to minimise the scandal attached to our names, not increase it.’

‘Dance with me.’

He saw her hesitate, torn between returning to the safety of the ballroom and sharing another wonderful waltz. The music from the ballroom was audible down here, muffled by the chatter of people on the terrace, but still good enough to dance to.

For an instant he thought she would and he felt his heart leap in his chest, then she was gone, her dress swishing behind her, her head bent low as she fled back to the safety of the ballroom.

Chapter Six

Distractedly Anna handed her bonnet to Grace, her maid, and patted her hair with both hands to tame any stray strands. She’d been unable to sleep after the ball and early that morning she’d headed to the shipping company offices to try to catch up on paperwork. It had been a gruelling day, with the Lady Magdalene still missing and the clients who had their goods aboard the ship getting restless.

‘Lady Fortescue would like some tea,’ Mr Maltravers said, ushering Grace away with a shake of his hand.

‘Grace,’ Anna said sharply, ‘I have a headache. I think I will lie down.’

Her effusive business rival had insisted on escorting her home after turning up uninvited at the shipping company office earlier in the afternoon. Anna had argued, strongly enough that anyone else would consider her rude, but Mr Maltravers had been unaffected by her protests and escorted her home anyway.

‘A cup of tea will cure that,’ Mr Maltravers said, taking her by the arm and leading her into the drawing room.

As always Anna stiffened at his touch, visibly shuddering at the feel of his clammy palm on her arm.

‘Thank you very much for your escort, Mr Maltravers,’ Anna said firmly, ‘but I am weary and feel unwell. You will have to forgive me for being a terrible host and not offering you any refreshment before you leave.’ Despite her conciliatory words Anna kept her tone and manner as cold as possible. Mr Maltravers was irking her, making her feel uncomfortable in the one place she normally felt safe.

‘I could wait.’

‘No.’ She wasn’t above begging him to go, but instead placed a hand on his arm and guided him back to the front door, even opening it herself.

‘I shall call on you tomorrow to check you have recovered. I worry about you, Lady Fortescue.’

‘Please do not trouble yourself.’

She hadn’t once encouraged him, hadn’t ever been anything more than polite and most of the time had been downright frosty towards him, but still Mr Maltravers insisted on popping up in every aspect of her life.

Anna shut the door while he was still on the top step, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wood.

‘Shall I bring you a cold compress for your head, my lady?’ Grace asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

‘It is a miracle I do not truly have a headache after spending close to an hour in Mr Maltravers’s carriage with him puffing away on that disgusting pipe.’

‘Lady Fortescue, you have a guest,’ Williams, the elderly butler, announced. He grimaced. ‘He is in the garden.’

Uncle Phillip’s town house was large and well proportioned, but like many houses in the city it didn’t have much of a garden. A small patio with a stretch of grass beyond it, it took less than five minutes to stroll around the whole perimeter.

‘The garden?’ It was a strange place to put a guest.

‘With Mr Tenby and Miss Tenby.’ Williams paused and Anna could sense there was more to be said. ‘They are playing shuttlecock.’

Of course Harry would come to call today. He came to call most days, but for some reason today seemed more significant than any other. Anna wondered if he’d felt it too, that spark, that flare of attraction as they stood together in the Carmichaels’ garden. For a moment she’d wanted to kiss him, wanted to fall into his arms and feel his lips on hers. It was ridiculous, worse than ridiculous, and now Anna could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she walked slowly towards the doors to the garden.

For a few seconds she stood and watched the scene outside. Harry and Beatrice had expressions of furious concentration on their faces as they hit the shuttlecock backwards and forward. Uncle Phillip was seated in the sun, shouting out words of encouragement. It looked like an idyllic family scene.

Harry was in good spirits as usual, his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose strong forearms and his eyes sparkling in the sunshine. He was a good-looking man, there was no denying it, but Anna knew that wasn’t the only reason she felt a tightening inside her as she watched him. There was more to him than a desirable exterior. There was a drive in Harry to look after people, to ensure they came to no harm. He quietly got on and made the important decisions without causing too much fuss.

Of course there was a bad side, too. Yesterday on the terrace he’d assumed control, taken over and made decisions that weren’t his to make. That was why she had to stop this reaction she had to him before it went any further. Never again would she give up her autonomy, not for anyone.

Pushing open the door, she stepped out into the sunshine.

‘Anna,’ Harry called as soon as he caught sight of her, ‘come join us.’

She hesitated, just for a moment, and then stepped off the patio and on to the grass, picking up a spare racket as she went.

‘Our record is twenty,’ Beatrice said, her eyes shining. ‘Lord Edgerton is rather good.’

Anna regarded her cousin out of the corner of her eye. If she wasn’t much mistaken, Beatrice was developing a little affection for Harry.

‘I hope you’re ready,’ Harry said, swinging his racket. ‘Whoever misses the shuttlecock first has to do a forfeit.’

‘What’s the forfeit?’ Anna asked.

Beatrice laughed and Harry hit the shuttlecock, powering it towards her. It had been years since Anna had picked up a racket, but she swung it instinctively, hearing the satisfying ping as the small shuttlecock bounced off the strings. It looped through the air towards Beatrice who hit it easily. Round and round the shuttlecock flew, faster and faster until Anna had to dive to reach it. The shuttlecock spun off the edge of her racket with a dull thunk, losing momentum and heading for the ground. Both Beatrice and Harry jumped forward, angling their rackets towards the small, tumbling object, but, before either of them could reach it, it hit the ground.

‘Congratulations,’ Harry said. ‘You won.’

‘What’s my prize?’

Harry stepped towards her, his eyes fixed on hers, took her hand and raised it to his lips. Anna shivered as he brushed the lightest of kisses against her knuckles. For a moment the rest of the world faded into the background and it was just the two of them on this patch of lawn. Then reality came tumbling back as Harry let go of her hand and stepped away.

‘An evening of entertainment. How do you ladies feel about the opera?’

Anna felt her heart sink. She hated the opera. All those people watching each other, their eyes fixed on the other spectators rather than the stage. It felt as though you were an exhibit in a museum.

‘I love the opera,’ Beatrice enthused. Anna had a sneaking suspicion her cousin would profess her love for any activity Harry suggested right now, even something as horrible as bear-baiting. There was a hint of adoration on Beatrice’s face every time she looked at Anna’s fake fiancé.

‘Anna?’

She almost lied, almost found herself professing a love for something that in truth she found disagreeable, but then she paused. After Lord Fortescue had died, after she had recovered from the rawest emotional and physical wounds she’d acquired in that marriage, she’d promised herself she would start to be true to herself. There was no need to do anything to please other people now; she could accept or decline invitations as she desired. No one could cajole or force her to do anything.

‘I am not keen on the opera,’ she said.

‘Anna,’ Beatrice said, her voice shocked and admonishing.

Anna shrugged. ‘I’m not. I see no reason to lie to Lord Edgerton.’

‘Harry,’ Harry corrected her. ‘And you’re right, there is no reason to lie to me.’

‘I would be delighted to accompany you to the opera, Lord Edgerton,’ Beatrice said.

Harry smiled indulgently, the smile of a big brother to a younger sister. ‘As much as I would enjoy that, we must find something that Anna enjoys, too.’ He turned to her, eyes narrowing. ‘What is it about the opera you dislike? The singing? The impenetrable language? The garish costumes?’

‘I find all that quite enjoyable. It is the audience I dislike, the feeling of being on display.’

Lord Fortescue had enjoyed the opera, often journeying to London for a performance. As always he’d required Anna to be exquisitely turned out for the trip, cataloguing any imperfection to punish her for later. Then he would spend most of the performance looking for signs Anna was flirting with other men. Of course it never happened, Anna wasn’t foolish—she kept her eyes fixed on either the stage or her husband—but the lack of evidence never deterred Lord Fortescue. It meant the opera had gone from a pleasant excursion to a place of fear and horror.

Harry regarded her, his blue eyes seeming to pierce through her protective layer.

‘Let me surprise you,’ he said eventually.

‘As you wish.’

‘Beatrice my dear, help your decrepit father inside,’ Anna’s uncle called from his spot at the edge of the patio.

Beatrice eyed her father reluctantly before bobbing a curtsy to Harry and gliding off to do as she was bid.

‘My cousin seems to adore you after just a few hours,’ Anna said as they were left alone.

‘She is a young woman of good taste,’ Harry said.

‘She is foolish and impulsive.’

‘Like all girls of eighteen.’ It was spoken as if he had personal experience with a foolish young girl.

‘You have a sister,’ Anna said as she slipped her hand through his arm.

‘I do.’

‘Is she the same age as Beatrice?’

‘She’s eighteen.’

‘Is she making her debut this year?’

Harry shook his head. Normally so easy to talk to, he was not forthcoming when it came to his family.

‘Next year, then?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Are you her guardian?’

‘In a sense. My mother is still alive, but she leaves most of the decisions surrounding Lydia to me.’

‘That must be difficult for you. The minds of young girls are impenetrable.’

Harry smiled stiffly, but didn’t answer, then, swiftly changing the subject, he said, ‘I thought we should discuss this house party I am arranging.’

‘Perhaps we should abandon the idea.’

‘No. It is the only way to get all of our suspects in one place.’

‘They won’t accept an invitation from me.’

‘But they will from me.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘I’m an earl, people always accept my invitations. Who should we invite? Who might want to cause you harm?’

‘If we agree to have this party, we should invite my late husband’s three children, Miss Antonia Fortescue, the new Lord Fortescue and Mr Ronald Fortescue. Also probably my late husband’s brother, Mr Lionel Fortescue.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘Anyone else dislike me enough to murder my cat?’ Anna asked. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘I’ll draw up a guest list, include some old friends to keep it civil, then we can decide on a date.’

‘I haven’t decided whether I want to do this yet or not,’ Anna said.

‘Nonsense, it’s the best way. I’ll organise everything. All you need to do is turn up.’

‘I need more time to think.’

‘There’s nothing to think about. I have it all in hand. This is for the best.’

Anna stiffened, withdrawing her hand from his arm. ‘Do not presume to tell me what is best for me,’ she said icily. ‘You do not know me.’

‘Anna...’ Harry started to say, but Anna held up a hand.

‘I make my own decisions. I do not need any man to make them for me.’

‘I wasn’t trying to make any decisions for you.’

‘And yet that was the end result. I thank you for calling on me today, Lord Edgerton, but perhaps we should end our acquaintance here.’ Before Harry could protest Anna turned and swept away, her heart hammering in her chest. She was inside before he’d moved and safely upstairs before she heard his footsteps in the hallway.

‘Anna...’ she heard him call, followed by the polite, muted tones from the butler. A minute later the door opened and closed as no doubt Harry was shown out. Anna risked a peek through the curtains at her window, drawing back as Harry stood back from the house and looked up directly at her. She was angry. Angry at the presumptive way he’d tried to make such a major decision for her and angry at herself for allowing him to get so close. Independent and single, that was how she would spend the rest of her life, even if the idea of never seeing Harry again hurt more than it should.

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