RICHARD BEGAN SEARCHING THE CELLAR ONCE MORE.

“I’m looking for more candles. We may as well try to keep as warm as we can.”

Elizabeth watched in some amusement as he began to light them. “I feel like a sacrificial lamb placed at the altar,” she quipped, seeing the semicircle of light.

There wasn’t so much as a ghost of a smile around Richard’s mouth, however, and the expression in his eyes was faintly disturbing. “That, my dear girl, is precisely what you shall be if we’re not rescued soon.”

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

Lady Knightley’s Secret
Anne Ashley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

1815

Sir Richard Knightley woke with a violent start. He was sweating profusely and his every muscle seemed suddenly to have grown taut. What in the world had woken him? he wondered. Cannon fire? No, it couldn’t have been. Just a bad dream—that was all: nothing more than vivid memory; a deep-seated fear. It was over…Surely it must be over? He just couldn’t go through it again, not that carnage! He detected the distant rumble once more and released his breath in a deep sigh of relief. Thunder…only thunder.

Trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his shoulder, and the sudden darting pain in his left leg, he eased himself into a sitting position. His night-shirt, damp with perspiration, clung to him like a second skin. Ye gods, wasn’t it oppressive tonight! he thought, pulling the offending garment over his head and tossing it aside in disgust.

Perhaps this storm might clear the air. Mary had warned him earlier that there was one brewing. He could quite easily discern those claps of thunder getting steadily louder, even if he was oblivious to the flashes of lightning.

Instinctively he raised a hand to touch the bandage over his eyes. The sabre gash in his right shoulder had been excruciating, and so too had the lead ball which had torn through the flesh in his thigh, but it had been the damage to his eyes when that pistol had been discharged which had caused him most concern. To be deprived of one’s sight didn’t bear dwelling on. To be led about by the hand for the rest of one’s life…

A further clap of thunder, which seemed to shake the house to its very foundations, broke into his depressing thoughts and brought him back to the present by reminding him of how oppressive it was in the room. Had Mary inadvertently closed the window when she had paid that last visit before retiring for the night? He turned his head in the direction in which he knew the window to be, and after a moment’s indecision decided to make the attempt.

Wincing slightly as he moved his injured leg, he swung his feet to the floor, and then reached out a hand to the wall. Mary had not delayed in encouraging him to exercise his muscles by taking a gentle turn about the bedchamber twice a day. He quickly discovered, however, that it was one thing having that blessed girl to guide him, and quite another trying to feel his way about a room he had never yet seen, a room where every object was a potential danger to a man who had been as good as blind for the past month.

‘Oh, confound it!’ he muttered as his elbow made contact with something, sending it crashing to the floor. What the devil had he broken? he wondered before his toes came into contact with a wet patch on the floor. It must have been the pitcher.

‘Don’t you be taking another step, sir!’ came a gently warning voice, spiced with an unmistakable West Country accent, ‘otherwise you’ll be a-stepping on broken porcelain.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mary. I hope it wasn’t valuable.’

He discerned the slight click as she closed the door, and then heard that soft footfall of hers as she came across the chamber towards him.

‘As you know, sir, this don’t be our ’ouse, so whether it be valuable or no I can’t rightly say, but it’s of no matter, anyhow. What be you a-doing out of bed? ’Ave you need of the chamber-pot?’

He couldn’t prevent a smile at this rather base enquiry. But then, he reminded himself, anyone less matter-of-fact, less practical would hardly have coped so admirably in nursing the six British casualties brought into this house.

Not that he retained any memory whatsoever of the journey back to Brussels in that lumbering cart filled with the dead and wounded. It had been Sergeant Hawker who had informed him that it had been Mary herself who had agreed to the army surgeon’s request to offer sanctuary to the injured men, and it had been she who had insisted that three of those six must be men from the lower ranks. There would be no discrimination under her roof, no preferential treatment to those higher born.

Richard couldn’t recall being carried up to this room, nor had he any memory of those first few days after the surgeon had tended the deep gash in his shoulder and had removed the piece of lead shot from his thigh. The last thing he could remember was having his mount shot from under him and seeing a blinding flash whilst he lay, momentarily stunned, on the scorched, bloodstained ground; though who had discharged the firearm, a fellow soldier or the enemy, he had no notion. Then, as he had made to rise, his vision blurred, his eyes smarting, he had been felled again by a French cavalryman wielding a sabre. The next thing he remembered was someone gently raising his head and coaxing him to take a little water.

That, of course, had been Mary, several days after he had been carried into this house. Since then she had administered to his every bodily need, had nursed him back to health and had forced him to come to terms with his brother’s tragic death.

‘No, my darling girl, I don’t have need of that particular receptacle at the moment. But I do require the window opened before I expire from the heat.’

‘It is open, but I’ll open it a little more, once I’ve got you safely back into bed.’

He felt the warm touch of gentle fingers on his wrist before a slender arm encircled his back. He was instantly aware of soft curves pressed against his side, and was both astounded and faintly embarrassed by his body’s immediate reaction. He recalled that it had been some weeks since he had assuaged his needs in that particular direction, and was aware in those moments before returning to his bed that he was far stronger than he had realised.

Praying she hadn’t noticed his arousal, he didn’t waste a second in pulling the covers up to his chest. He heard the grating of the sash window as it was raised higher, and then felt a blessed waft of fresh air. ‘That’s better!’ he remarked with genuine relief before he detected a faint chink as Mary busied herself with picking up the fragments of porcelain.

‘I suppose it never occurred to you to throw the bedcovers off?’ she chided, placing the broken pieces in the bowl. ‘There! That’s cleared that up. Now, let’s have no more middle-of-the-night wanderings!’

He couldn’t forbear a smile at the scolding tone; he had grown quite accustomed to it by now. He heard her light tread once more and arrested her progress to the door by asking her to stay for a while.

He felt the bed go down slightly under her light weight, and instinctively sought one of those infinitely capable hands. ‘I’m a selfish devil, because you must be tired, but just sit with me for a while.’

He couldn’t see the smile which played around the exquisitely formed lips, but couldn’t mistake the gentle understanding as she said, ‘I know you must be concerned about tomorrow, Richard, but everything will be all right…I know it will.’

He brushed his thumb back and forth over the soft skin, easily detecting the small bones beneath. How often during these past weeks had he held these tapering fingers for comfort and support? He would know these caring hands anywhere. He had not infrequently marvelled at the fact that such a slender creature could be so strong, manoeuvring his six-foot frame in those first early days when he had been too helpless to do anything for himself. He had learned from Sergeant Hawker, the old rogue, that she was a very pretty young woman; knew too, from Mary herself, that her long hair was the colour of sun-ripened corn and that her eyes were blue. Such a delicious combination! But he had never looked upon what Hawker considered the sweetest smile in Christendom…Would he ever be privileged to see it?

‘I wish I had your confidence, Mary.’

Her soft laughter had a teasing quality. ‘You will see,’ she assured him again. ‘Call it the gypsy in me that knows.’

He was still far from certain, but knew he was probably being too pessimistic; behaving like a spoilt child, as Mary had told him in no uncertain terms on more than one occasion during these past weeks. Darling little scold! His sight hadn’t been permanently damaged—the doctor had assured him of that. His eyes had been inflamed, certainly, and everything had been just a blur, but the condition was only temporary. His eyes had needed only resting and nature would effect its own cure. Tomorrow, when the bandages were removed, he would see again. He must believe that! Surely life wouldn’t heap the torment of blindness upon him on top of everything else?

He found himself experiencing that same gnawing ache of grief, infinitely more painful than any one of the several wounds he had sustained during his years in the army. It had been just over two weeks since Mary had read that letter informing him of his brother’s tragic death. He still found it difficult to accept that, when he did eventually return to England, Charles wouldn’t be standing outside the ancestral home waiting to greet him, as he had done so many times in the past; that dear Margaret wouldn’t be there either, nor little Jonathan. A racing curricle, driven at breakneck speed, had forced his brother’s carriage off the road and it had tumbled down a ravine. Because of some mindless fop’s attempts to win a wager, Charles and his wife, and their nine-year-old son, now lay six feet beneath the earth.

Learning about the tragedy so soon after seeing so many comrades fall at Waterloo had been almost too much for him to bear. He had come perilously close to losing the will to live; might well have not survived his injuries; might never have attempted to come to terms with his tragic loss if it hadn’t been for Mary.

Mostly gently coaxing, but occasionally rounding on him like a spitting virago, Mary had somehow managed to transfuse a small part of that indomitable spirit of hers into him, lifting him from the nadir of despair, and instilling in him a determination to face up to the responsibilities which had been placed upon him by his brother’s untimely death. It would take a long time before he got over his loss; perhaps he never would, fully; but, for the sake of the baby niece he had never yet seen, he must face the future.

Charles and Margaret had considered their baby daughter too young to make that long journey to Derbyshire to stay with their friends, and had left her in the care of a close relative residing in London. Thankfully, Juliet was too young to understand the tragedy which had struck. Now it was up to him to ensure that her life was as carefree and happy as possible by taking the place of the father she would never remember.

He automatically reached out for his sweet preserver with his other hand and, pulling her down against his chest, ran his fingers through that long mane of silky hair which always smelt so deliciously of lavender-and-rose water. ‘What would I have done without you, you darling girl!’

Without conscious thought he removed his hand from her hair to run an exploratory trail down her cheek, brushing gently against the outline of her jaw before taking a hold of the softly rounded chin and raising her face. He lowered his head and his mouth retraced the path his fingers had taken before coming to rest on soft lips, invitingly parted.

He had intended nothing more than a brief display of his genuine affection for this wonderfully caring young woman, but as he felt those soft lips tremble deliciously beneath his own, as he became acutely aware of the firm young breasts pressed against his chest, his need returned with an urgency, reigniting that fire of desire in his loins. Before he realised what he was doing, he had eased her into the bed beside him and was peeling away that last flimsy barrier of her clothing with hands that now shook slightly in their urgency to touch every last inch of her.

It must have been this loss of sight which had finely tuned his other senses, he decided, for never before could he recall touching skin so satiny-smooth, so beautifully unblemished. She was perfect. Her breasts reacted instantly to his caressing touch, hardening and inviting his lips. Her soft moans of pleasure as he ran his fingers down to the softly swelling hips was music to his ears, a delightful encouragement for further intimate caresses.

Not for an instant did it cross his mind to wonder why the hands which began to explore the triangular mat of dark hair covering his chest were trembling slightly; nor did he consider the very real possibility that the body which reacted so deliciously to his gentle caresses might not be that of an experienced woman, but that of a hitherto untouched female who was responding quite naturally to a knowledgeable man’s tender lovemaking. It was only when he eased himself on top and inside her and heard that betraying tiny cry of pain that the truth dawned on him. But it was all too late now: his need too urgent for him to stop.

‘Why didn’t you tell me, Mary?’ he asked gently when at last he lay beside her once more, and cradled her head on his chest. ‘Did I hurt you very much, my darling? Had I known, I—’

‘Had you known, Richard,’ she interrupted, ‘I suspect you wouldn’t have made love to me at all.’

He wasn’t so certain. He wasn’t a man accustomed to curbing his natural desires. A string of mistresses over the years had satisfied his needs, but he had never before tampered with innocence. Maybe if it had once occurred to him that she might be untouched he wouldn’t have reached a point where he was incapable of stopping, but it was rather too late to question the wisdom of his actions now. There was only one course open to a man who possessed any degree of honour.

He brushed his lips lightly over her forehead. ‘We’ll be married just as soon as I can arrange matters.’ He felt her stiffen. ‘What’s wrong, Mary? Don’t you want to marry me?’

‘More than anything in the world, Richard!’ It was like a desperate cry from a loving heart. ‘But—but you know next to nothing about me.’

‘I know that you’re one of the sweetest scolds I’ve ever met,’ he told her laughingly. ‘I also know that your hair is blonde and your eyes are blue.’

‘Ah, yes,’ she murmured, a distinct catch in her voice, as though she were finding it difficult to speak. ‘That’s always been your favourite combination, hasn’t it, my Richard?’

‘How do you know that? Has Sergeant Hawker been gossiping again?’

She didn’t respond to this, but asked instead with that bluntness which so characterised her, ‘Do you truly want to marry me?’

‘Of course!’ he answered without a moment’s hesitation and only hoped his voice hadn’t betrayed his grave misgivings. ‘Besides, now that I’ve come into the title it’s essential I produce an heir. And I’ve come to know you well enough in these past weeks to be certain you’d make a wonderful wife and mother. So, we’ll take it as settled.’

There was no response.

When Richard woke again it was to discover himself alone and that portion of bed beside him quite cold. By the tramping of feet in the passageway outside his room—which sounded like a regiment of infantrymen parading up and down—he knew it must be morning, a morning he had been longing for and dreading by turns; a morning that, no matter whether he would see again or not, would change his life forever.

Raising his arms, he rested his head in his hands and gave vent to a heartfelt sigh. He was honest enough to admit that for a newly betrothed man he certainly wasn’t experiencing untold joy; honest enough to admit, too, that Mary wouldn’t have been his ideal choice for a wife. He liked her very well, probably more than any other woman he had ever known. She was both kind-hearted and amusing, and for all that she spoke with a pronounced West Country accent she was far from uneducated.

It had been she who had penned the letter to his London solicitors in response to the one they had sent informing him of his brother’s tragic demise. He had also learned from Sergeant Hawker that she had spent many hours with him improving his reading and writing skills. But this, he was only too well aware, was hardly sufficient reason to suppose that she would make a suitable wife for a baronet. The truth of the matter was, of course, that she was totally unsuitable. She could have no notion of what was expected of her. Those vicious society tabbies would have a field day at her expense when they discovered her former station in life.

‘But you know next to nothing about me.’ He frowned suddenly as Mary’s words echoed in his mind. It was true: he knew absolutely nothing about her life. She had received a good education. He knew this from the numerous conversations they had had when she had spoken intelligently on a wide range of topics. She might well be the daughter of some country parson or practitioner. If this did turn out to be the case then the outlook was not all doom and gloom. She could be moulded and taught the ways of his social class. Added to which, she must surely come from a family with sufficient means to have been able to afford to hire this house for several weeks. Was she the daughter of a wealthy merchant, perhaps? But it was pointless speculating, he told himself. He would discover all he wanted to know, and perhaps a great deal that he didn’t, when she visited him next.

The door opening interrupted his thoughts. ‘Mary?’

‘No, sir. It’s me.’

He recognised his sergeant’s rough voice instantly and smiled. ‘What brings you here so early, you old rogue? And what the devil’s that confounded din?’

‘The servants be moving some trunks, sir. Captain Munroe be leaving us this morning. We be the last two ’ere now.’

‘Where’s Mary?’

There was a tiny pause, then, ‘She be a bit—er—busy at the moment, sir, so she asked me to see to you. High time I took up me dooties again. I can get about well enough, even though the old knee’s still a bit stiff. Now, sir, I’ll just pop this towel round you and give you a bit of a shave.’

No sooner had this task been completed than the doctor arrived, and Richard, for once not having Mary there offering comfort and support, found himself grasping the bedclothes. Not once during any one of those many cavalry charges in which he had taken part could he recall being in the grip of such intense fear as he was in those moments when the bandages were removed and he opened his eyes for the first time since that never-to-be-forgotten last battle.

At first all he could detect were dark, blurred shapes. It was like trying to peer through a thick London fog, but then, blessedly, the mists slowly began to clear and the concerned face of his sergeant staring down at him gradually came into focus.

‘I never thought I’d experience pleasure at seeing that ugly phiz of yours, Hawker. And I have to say it hasn’t improved any since last I saw it!’

The sergeant, far from offended, laughed heartily as he moved across to the window so as not to impede the doctor’s further examination. He looked down into the street below, his amusement vanishing as he gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head, and then watched as the carriage pulled away from the house.

‘Where is Mary?’ Richard asked again, making his eagerness to see her very evident.

Giving a guilty start, Hawker looked back across at the bed. ‘She’s—er—just this minute stepped out for a bit of air, sir.’

‘Well, when she returns to the house tell her I’d like to see her.’ Richard smiled at the choice of words. ‘Tell her I’m longing to see her.’

The sergeant didn’t respond, but he knew it would be only a matter of time before this gallant commanding officer realised there was something amiss.

The moment he had been dreading came early that evening when he brought Richard his dinner.

‘Where is she, Hawker? Why hasn’t she been to see me today?’

He saw little point in trying to conceal the truth any longer. ‘She be gone, sir.’

‘Gone? Gone where?’

‘She be journeying back to England. She left in the carriage as soon as she knew you were back to normal, as yer might say.’ He couldn’t bring himself to add that it had been he who had signalled to her from the window.

Richard experienced such a maelstrom of conflicting emotions that it was several moments before he could think clearly. ‘Did she say why she had to leave so suddenly?’

‘Her old lady were right poorly, sir. Never once left ’er room in all the time we’ve been ’ere. Miss Mary must ’ave wanted to get her back ’ome before she weakened any more, I suppose. Don’t think Miss Mary would ’ave stayed this long if she hadn’t been nursing us lot.’ Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a letter. ‘Before she left, she asked me to give you this, sir.’

Richard almost snatched it from the outstretched hand and, ignoring his sergeant’s reminder that he wasn’t supposed to strain his eyes by reading for at least a week, broke the seal.

Dearest Richard, he read. This is to say goodbye—a cowardly way of doing so, I know, but it is for the best. Had I seen you again I might have weakened and agreed to be your wife, which would have been a grave mistake for both of us. I know you felt honour bound to ask for my hand after what had taken place between us, but I cannot allow

you to make that sacrifice. I gave myself willingly, and do not regret what happened, nor shall I ever. But how can a marriage be a happy one, my darling, when the love is all on one side? One day you will meet someone and fall in love, and bless me for my actions of this day. God keep you safe. Mary.

Richard swallowed the hard lump which had lodged itself in his throat, and cast his eyes again over those words written in a beautifully flowing hand, a hand which for some obscure reason seemed oddly familiar. His Mary had released him from his obligations, but did he want to be freed? He wasn’t certain, but knew that he couldn’t leave things this way. He owed that young woman so much. He simply couldn’t allow her to walk out of his life like this. It was his duty to find her.

‘She hasn’t written down her direction.’ He looked up at the rather concerned face of his sergeant. ‘Did she leave a forwarding address, do you know?’

‘That I don’t, sir. Miss Mary left with all ’er servants. There’s only the Froggies ’ere now.’

‘They’re Belgians.’

‘All the same to me, sir. Do you want I should fetch the ’ousekeeper?’

Richard nodded, but she wasn’t able to help him. Mademoiselle had never mentioned her address. The only thing the housekeeper could suggest was that he wait until her master returned from Italy at the end of the month, and ask him if he knew where Mary resided in England.

But Richard was not forced to await the owner’s return. Tragically, a little over a week later, he was to read a report in a newspaper of the passenger vessel The Albatross, bound for Southampton, capsizing in mid-Channel. Amongst those listed as missing, believed drowned, were a Mrs and Miss Mary Smith.

Chapter Two

With all the exuberance of an excitable child, Lady Dartwood uttered a shriek of delight as she watched the carriage pull up outside the front entrance and saw a young woman in a very fashionable fur-trimmed travelling outfit step gracefully down the steps.

‘She’s here, Brin! She’s arrived at last!’

‘Will you stop jumping up and down that way!’ her husband admonished with a passable attempt at sounding severe. ‘For heaven’s sake remember your condition!’

‘I can hardly forget it, now can I?’ Glancing down at the rather large, figure-damaging protuberance at the front of her gown, the Viscountess’s expression managed to betray dismay as well as a deal of motherly love for her unborn child. ‘And Elizabeth’s so beautiful, too. I know you’ll fall instantly in love with her!’

The Viscount rose from the comfort of his armchair and took his young wife gently in his arms. ‘I promise I shall like her for your sake, Verity. I know how very fond you are of your old school friend. But you’re the only girl for me. How many times do I need to assure you of that?’

She rewarded him for his sound good sense, but quickly extricated herself from his embrace as the door opened and a young woman in her early twenties swept into the room and came tripping lightly towards them, looking so gracefully ethereal that the Viscountess couldn’t help but feel a tiny stab of resentment, but hid it quite beautifully as she gave her friend an affectionate hug.

‘I swear, Elizabeth, you get lovelier each time I see you. And slimmer, too!’

‘And you are blooming, my dear Verity. The very picture of health!’ Elizabeth then turned and held out one hand to the Viscount. ‘How do you do, my lord. Your wife mentions you so often in her letters that I feel I have known you for years.’

‘And I must reciprocate, Miss Beresford,’ he responded, executing an elegant bow before releasing his brief hold of the slender, tapering fingers. ‘My wife has spoken of nothing else since she received your letter accepting her invitation to be our guest.’

‘How odiously stuffy!’ Verity’s expression of staunch disapproval drew spontaneous chuckles from both her husband and her friend. ‘Now you must know that in my delicate condition it isn’t very sensible to vex me. So let’s have no more of this unnecessary formality!’

‘In the circumstances it might be wise to indulge her, sir,’ Elizabeth suggested. ‘But only on condition,’ she added, casting the most winning smile up at him, ‘that you refrain from addressing me in any one of those repulsive abbreviations so widely used where my name is concerned. I cannot abide Lizzie or Eliza. And I’m not enamoured of Beth, either.’

The Viscount readily agreed, thinking what a graciously charming young woman Verity’s friend was, her manners open and wonderfully unaffected, and by the time she had left them a short while later to dress for dinner, he had decided, without any further coaxing from his wife, that he liked Elizabeth Beresford very well.

‘Why in heaven’s name isn’t that charming young woman married? She’s not only extremely pretty, but intelligent too.’

Not in the least surprised that he had been captivated so easily by Elizabeth’s engaging manner, Verity smiled with satisfaction. ‘I honestly don’t know, Brin.’ The smile faded. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised, though, if it didn’t have something to do with her upbringing. She had quite a miserable childhood. From odd things she has let fall from time to time, I gather her parents’ marriage wasn’t a happy one. I believe Elizabeth was quite close to her father, but didn’t deal at all well with her mother. And as for that sister of hers…!’

‘Mmm.’ He glanced thoughtfully at the logs burning brightly on the hearth. ‘I hope you’ve forewarned her that it isn’t unusual for Lady Chiltham to pay us impromptu visits?’

Verity’s sudden scowl betrayed her feelings quite beautifully. She disliked Elizabeth’s sister intensely and considered Lord Chiltham a pompous nincompoop. The Chilthams, however, resided less than three miles distant and for the sake of neighbourly harmony she had managed to conceal her dislike whenever they had happened to meet.

‘She was so spiteful to Elizabeth when they were children. Elizabeth never returned to school after a vacation without having acquired at least one livid bruise from that sister of hers.’

‘It isn’t uncommon for brothers and sisters to quarrel, my dear,’ his lordship countered fair-mindedly.

‘I realise that. But Evadne’s seven years Elizabeth’s senior. It was nothing short of malicious bullying.’ A sudden gurgle of laughter escaped her. ‘I’d like to see her try it now,’ she went on, the wicked glint in her eyes betraying how she would relish the prospect of an unfriendly encounter between the sisters. ‘Elizabeth has changed out of all recognition since she went to live with her grandmother. I think darling Evadne’s in for a rather severe shock when she does see her again.’

‘Well, Elizabeth certainly didn’t strike me as a shrinking violet. She certainly is nothing like her sister, though, not even in looks.’

‘Very true,’ Verity concurred. ‘She was painfully shy at school, but thankfully that’s no longer the case. She appears to be remarkably resilient too, now. Which is a blessing considering her recent loss. I must say she seems to have got over her grandmother’s demise very well.’

In this, however, Viscountess Dartwood couldn’t have been more wrong, as Elizabeth’s personal maid and lifelong devotee could have enlightened her if asked.

None knew better than Agatha Stigwell, who had been employed as nursemaid in the Beresford household, what a miserable existence her young mistress had endured in her formative years. She had witnessed, first hand, the petty cruelties the pampered Evadne had inflicted on her sister and had been appalled by the sheer indifference Mrs Beresford had always shown when dealing with her younger daughter. The only displays of affection and kindness Elizabeth had ever received had come from her maternal grandmother when she had stayed with her in Bristol, and from her father, but as his visits to the family home had been infrequent and of short duration, Elizabeth’s periods of childhood happiness had been few and far between.

Agatha had never regretted the decision she had taken, after her master had died, in aiding Elizabeth in running away to her maternal grandmother. Elizabeth had seemed to blossom overnight under that wonderful old lady’s constant loving care. Although, even then, weakened by years of ill-health, Mrs Smithson had been more than a match for Elizabeth’s mother when she had come hotfoot to Bristol, demanding her daughter’s return.

Agatha herself hadn’t been privileged to overhear what had passed between Mrs Smithson and her daughter that day, but whatever the old lady had said, it had been sufficient to send Mrs Beresford on her way again rather abruptly. Agatha was honest enough to admit that she hadn’t been sorry to see the last of her old mistress; honest enough to admit, too, that she had been completely unmoved when she had learned of Mrs Beresford’s death two years later. What Miss Elizabeth had felt was difficult to judge. She certainly hadn’t shed any tears over her mother’s unexpected demise; but the poor girl had wept bitterly when her dear grandmother had passed away the previous autumn. She just hadn’t been the same person since; but then, Agatha reminded herself, her young mistress hadn’t been the same since their return from Brussels last summer.

‘Why are you staring at me with that peculiar look in your eyes, Aggie?’

Unable to hold her young mistress’s gaze, she went across the bedchamber to collect a shawl. ‘You’re imagining things, miss. I was merely thinking how sensible it was of you to accept Viscountess Dartwood’s kind invitation. You’ve locked yourself away from the world for far too long. You know your dear grandmother didn’t want that.’

‘No, I know she didn’t. She even begged me not to deck myself out in mourning.’ A sigh escaped her. ‘I kept that promise at least. I’ve never once even donned black gloves.’

Rising to her feet, Elizabeth remained only for the time it took to have the shawl arranged about her shoulders, and then went back down to the salon, where she had left her host and hostess earlier, to find them looking the picture of marital bliss, seated side by side on the sofa.

The Viscount rose at once and went over to the table on which several decanters stood. ‘I believe Verity omitted to inform you that we’re expecting another guest, a friend of mine from my army days, but I’m not quite certain just when he’ll be arriving—it could be today, or tomorrow.’

He watched Elizabeth seat herself in one graceful, sweeping movement before handing her the glass of Madeira. ‘You were in Brussels last year, on hand, as one might say, to celebrate that famous victory. And I understand from Verity that you stayed to nurse some of our brave soldiers back to health.’

‘Yes, I was there,’ she admitted in a colourless tone, ‘but I saw little worth celebrating. The sight of that endless procession of carts, filled with the dead and dying, pouring into the city after the battle was over is an experience I shall never forget.’ She shook her head at the all-too-vivid recollection. ‘Where is the glory, sir, in all that waste of life…that suffering?’

Verity noticed a look of respect flit over her husband’s features before he raised his head, his acute hearing picking up a sound from the hall.

‘What is it, Brin? Has your friend arrived, do you think?’

‘Yes, I believe so. I’ll go and see.’

Verity waited until he had left the room before turning to Elizabeth with a rather impish smile. ‘I never realised until a few moments ago how similar your shade of hair is to Brin’s.’ She studied her friend’s beautifully arranged locks once again. ‘Except, perhaps, yours contains a little more red. Why, you might be brother and sister!’

‘I should have very much enjoyed having him as a brother. You’re a lucky girl, Verity. He’s a charming man.’ She cast her grey-green eyes over the Viscountess in a swift appraisal, deciding that marriage and the prospect of imminent motherhood suited her very well. She looked glowing and so utterly contented with her lot. ‘When is the baby due? Any time now, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Great heavens, no! Not for several weeks, unfortunately.’ Verity noted the slight frown. ‘I know I’m huge already. And to think I’ve still another month to go!’

Her pained expression vanished as the door opened and she watched her husband return with a tall and ruggedly handsome gentleman in tow. She had never met this particular friend of Brin’s before and was instantly aware of his aura of powerful masculinity. So captivated was she by Sir Richard Knightley’s spontaneous and most engaging smile, as her husband made the introductions, that she failed completely to notice the effect the very personable gentleman’s presence was having on her friend.

With a hand which trembled slightly Elizabeth took the very sensible precaution of placing her glass down on the conveniently positioned occasional table beside her chair, before she foolishly disgraced herself by spilling the contents down the folds of her rich green velvet gown. No one’s unexpected appearance could possibly have unsettled her more, but with a supreme effort at self-control she contrived to appear as composed as ever.

‘There is absolutely no reason to introduce Sir Richard to me, Brin,’ she interrupted when he turned, about to do just that. ‘I knew him quite well when I was a child.’

Looking a trifle pale, but maintaining quite beautifully that self-assured air, she rose to her feet and even managed a semblance of a smile at the three rather startled expressions bent in her direction. ‘It has been several years since you last set eyes on me, sir, so I’m not in the least offended by your all-too-evident bewilderment.’ She held out her hand, which thankfully no longer trembled. ‘Elizabeth…Elizabeth Beresford.’

He didn’t utter ‘Good Gad!’ but the expletive hung in the air, none the less, drawing forth a gurgle of wicked amusement from the irrepressible Viscountess.

‘I’m not in the least surprised, either, that you appear dumbfounded, sir, especially if you haven’t seen her for some time. When I met up with Elizabeth again last year I could hardly believe that it was my old school friend sitting in that famous Bond Street modiste’s.’

‘Indeed, you are vastly altered, Miss Beresford,’ he agreed in that attractive deep voice that she remembered so well, ‘but I ought to have recognised you.’ His dark eyes rested for a moment on the charmingly arranged rich red-brown hair before returning to the delicately featured face turned so enchantingly up to his. ‘Unlike your sister, you always did bear a marked resemblance to your father. With your unusual colouring you are unmistakably a Beresford.’

‘I cannot express strongly enough how relieved I am to hear you say so, sir,’ she responded with feeling, before turning and bestowing such a dazzling smile upon the Viscount that Sir Richard experienced a most unexpected and rather unwholesome spasm of jealousy gnaw at his insides.

‘Your darling wife, Brin, has recently remarked that we might well be mistaken for brother and sister. You must be aware that she has never been known to put a guard on that unruly tongue of hers. Before you know it, rumours will begin to spread and we shall find ourselves on the receiving end of some rather strange looks!’

He laughed heartily at this before offering her his arm and escorting her across the hall and into the dining-room. Verity, following with Sir Richard, experienced a deal of wicked satisfaction when she noticed that her husband’s very personable friend seemed incapable of preventing his gaze from wandering in Miss Beresford’s direction.

Elizabeth became increasingly aware of this fact too as the evening wore on but, unlike Verity, found nothing satisfying in those all-too-frequent dark-eyed glances. Never in her wildest imaginings had she considered the possibility that the Dartwoods’ other guest would turn out to be none other than the man she had secretly, and quite foolishly, loved since she was a girl.

Calling upon that all-important inner reserve of self-control, she managed to conceal this all-too-painful truth. However, trying to behave towards him as she might have done any other acquaintance of long standing, with a kind of polite, friendly interest, inevitably took its toll. So, when Verity announced her intention of retiring early, Elizabeth wasn’t slow in making her own excuses to leave the gentlemen to their own devices.

Managing, still, to retain that serene look that suggested she hadn’t a care in the world, Elizabeth accompanied her friend up the staircase. She accepted with alacrity the Viscountess’s invitation to come to her suite of rooms later so that they could enjoy a comfortable coze before finally retiring for the night, but the instant she entered the sanctuary of her own bedchamber her expression changed dramatically.

‘Ha! I knew it. In a right fix you are, and no mistake!’

Elizabeth flashed her maid a glance of impatience. ‘I might have guessed that you’d have got wind of his arrival. And don’t stand there gloating! Come help me off with this gown!’

Completely undaunted by the brusque tone, Agatha helped her young mistress get ready for bed. ‘What are you intending to do, miss? You mark my words, he’ll find out.’

Elizabeth pulled a brush through her silky russet-coloured hair with impatient strokes as she stared at her maid through the dressing-table mirror. ‘How can he possibly do that? Only you and I know. And if you ever reveal my secret, Aggie, I’ll never forgive you!’

‘Wild horses could never drag it from me, miss. You know that. But he’s no fool. You might let something slip.’ Her expression betrayed her concern. ‘It might be best if you make some excuse to leave,’ she suggested, but Elizabeth shook her head.

‘I cannot deny that that solution is very tempting, but it won’t answer. It would look most odd if I suddenly upped and left.’ She gazed sightlessly at her own reflection in the mirror, her mind deep in thought. ‘No, that course of action would certainly give rise to conjecture. And besides, I’m quite adept at keeping a guard on my tongue, and concealing my feelings. I’ve had years of practice, after all.’

She saw sadness replace the concern in her maid’s dark eyes and gave her arm an affectionate squeeze before rising from the stool to collect her robe. ‘I must confess, though, that I’m more than a little annoyed with the Viscountess. I think for friendship’s sake she might have taken the trouble to forewarn me that this friend of her husband’s was none other than Richard. But—’ she shrugged ‘—annoyed though I am, I couldn’t with a clear conscience desert her now.’ A worried frown suddenly marred the perfect symmetry of her own brow. ‘Have you by any chance caught sight of her ladyship since we arrived, Aggie?’

‘I have that, miss. Spied her crossing the hall when you all went into the dining-room earlier.’

‘In your expert opinion, when do you consider the baby will be born?’

‘Any day now, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Just what I’ve been thinking!’ The frown of disquiet grew more pronounced. ‘The Lord only knows what kind of practitioner has been in attendance upon her ladyship. Some antiquated old fossil who hasn’t picked up a medical volume in years, I shouldn’t wonder. I can perfectly understand why Tom works himself into such a passion over the old-fashioned notions of many of his colleagues. It’s a thousand pities he isn’t here now!’

She moved across to the door, but turned back to enquire, ‘I don’t suppose you happen to know precisely where her ladyship’s bedchamber is situated, by any chance?’

‘Turn left at the end of the passageway and it’s the second door on the right.’

Elizabeth, marvelling at her maid’s quite remarkable ability for acquainting herself with the layout of strange houses within a relatively short space of time, went along to her ladyship’s apartments and discovered the Viscountess sitting up in bed, supported by a mound of frothy lace-edged pillows. She received a warm smile and was invited to sit on the edge of the huge four-poster bed, but she remained standing, her eyes betraying her very understandable resentment at her friend’s rather heartless disregard for her feelings.

Verity was not slow in perceiving the look. ‘What is it, Elizabeth? What’s wrong?’

‘Why didn’t you inform me that you had invited Richard here, too?’

The enquiry was uttered lightly enough, but Verity couldn’t mistake the note of censure in the soft voice and was frankly puzzled by it. ‘I didn’t realise until a few days ago that he would be coming. Brin met up with him in London the other week and invited him to stay. Why, you don’t object to his being here, surely? You seem to get along quite well.’

Elizabeth cast her a look of comical dismay. ‘Sir Richard, my dear Verity, is the gentleman my parents wished me to marry. At least,’ she amended with a rueful smile, ‘my father certainly desired the match. Don’t you recall my telling you that when we met in London last spring?’

In truth, she did not, although she vaguely recalled Elizabeth mentioning that there was someone she had refused to marry because she had been convinced they wouldn’t suit.

‘Oh, I am sorry! Does it make you feel so very uncomfortable…his being here, I mean?’

There could be no mistaking the genuine distress, the undoubted concern her friend was experiencing on her behalf, and Elizabeth found those slight feelings of hurt and annoyance ebbing away.

Accepting the invitation at last, she seated herself on the edge of the bed and gave her friend’s hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I should be a liar if I said no. But you mustn’t concern yourself on my account.’ A wistful little smile hovered around her very attractive mouth. ‘Richard, I should imagine, was as relieved as I not to be forced into the union.’

Verity subjected her friend to a rather long and thoughtful look, her husband’s bluntly voiced amazement at Elizabeth’s unmarried state echoing in her ears.

Yes, now that she came to consider the matter, it was most odd that Elizabeth had chosen to remain a spinster. The reason might well be what she herself had suspected: that Elizabeth recoiled at the mere thought of contracting a marriage so desperately unhappy as her parents’ union had been. Or the answer might simply be that she had never as yet met a gentleman with whom she wished to spend the rest of her life. A sudden vision of Sir Richard—tall, muscular and perfectly proportioned—appeared before her mind’s eye, drawing a rather puzzled frown to crease her forehead. If, in truth, Elizabeth had never married because she had yet to meet a man to her taste, then she must be very hard to please, for how many gentlemen were there as handsome and personable as Sir Richard?

She found herself unable to quell her rampant curiosity, and after a moment found herself asking outright what her friend had glimpsed in his character to give her a dislike of him.

‘Oh, I don’t dislike him, Verity,’ she responded without the least hesitation. ‘Far from it, in fact. As you might have gathered earlier, I like him very well. I cannot see how any female could take such a well-mannered and intelligent gentleman in dislike.’

Just what I’ve been thinking myself, Verity thought, and said with that bluntness which was so much a part of her charm, ‘Then, why in heaven’s name did you refuse to marry him?’

Elizabeth, far from discomposed, smiled rather serenely. ‘Because, my dear, I couldn’t bear the mortification of going through life knowing that in the eyes of my husband I would always figure as second best.’

Verity’s jaw dropped perceptively. ‘Do you mean that he was in love with someone else at the time?’

‘I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, exactly,’ Elizabeth responded after giving the question due consideration. ‘But you must remember that it was our respective fathers who desired the match. They had been close friends since boyhood, and that friendship continued until Sir Percival Knightley’s death. Richard was, in fact, my father’s godson, and although my father’s sojourns at our home were rare, he did occasionally bring Richard for a visit.’

She paused for a moment to stare blindly at one ornately carved bedpost. ‘From a very early age I knew Richard preferred the company of my sister. Hardly surprising when one considers how very pretty Evadne was in her youth, whereas I…Added to which, they were of a similar age, Evadne being only a year his junior.’

‘Are you trying to say that he wished to marry her?’ The Viscountess not only looked astounded, but sounded it too, and Elizabeth couldn’t prevent a gurgle of laughter escaping.

‘Most young men who met my sister swiftly became infatuated. And Richard was no exception. I came upon them together in the shrubbery one day, and overheard Richard saying that he wished she were the one his father had wished him to marry…Then he kissed her.’ Her amusement faded and the grey in her eyes seemed to intensify. ‘I think that must rate as one of the lowest points in my life. But I made up my mind, then, that I would never marry unless I was certain of my future husband’s regard for me.’

Verity shook her head in disbelief. ‘And here I was thinking that Richard was a man of sound good sense. How could any gentleman of discernment prefer Evadne to you?’

‘Why, thank you, my dear! You do my ego the world of good!’ Elizabeth exclaimed, genuinely gratified by the compliment, but then became serious once more. ‘You must remember, though, that this happened years ago. Richard himself wouldn’t have been much above twenty at the time. And there could be no denying that Evadne was quite captivatingly lovely.’

The Viscountess lay quietly mulling over what she had learned, then her ever-lively and rather wicked sense of humour came to the fore and she suddenly gurgled with laughter, a delightful tinkling sound which echoed round the room.

‘No wonder Richard looked so dumbfounded earlier, but he should have remembered that plain little cygnets grow into quite regal creatures. I think he’ll consider it most fortuitous that he never married your sister. What a blunder that would have been!’

‘My dear, there was never any question of that. Evadne might have liked him very well, but she was ambitious, and had set her sights high. She wouldn’t have settled for less than a title, and Richard, you must remember, was a younger son…Which reminds me. I must offer my condolences. His brother’s death was—must have come as a bitter blow. They were very close.’

She rose from the bed. ‘And now I really must leave you, otherwise that very doting husband of yours will quite rightly take me roundly to task for keeping you from your sleep,’ and, without giving her friend the chance to argue, whisked herself from the room.

Completely satisfied now that there had been no ulterior motive in Richard’s invitation to this house, Elizabeth smiled to herself as she moved almost soundlessly along the red-carpeted passageway in the direction of her own room. She ought to have known that the darling Viscountess would never do anything so underhanded, nor indeed anything which might cause her old school-friend embarrassment. But this didn’t alter the fact, Elizabeth reminded herself, that she must remain on her mettle throughout the time Richard was here, for just one unguarded look, just one ill-chosen word, might alert the far-from-obtuse Viscountess to the true state of her friend’s rather foolish heart.

Rounding the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks and only just managed to prevent a gasp escaping as her eyes focused on the tall figure standing in the shadows only yards ahead. Her robe had fallen open and she didn’t realise that, with the candles behind her, the nightgown which modestly covered almost every inch of her became virtually transparent. But Richard was instantly aware of the fact.

The gentlemanly thing to do, of course, was to bid a swift good night and retire to his bedchamber. He swiftly discovered, however, that he was first and foremost a man, and couldn’t prevent his eyes from wandering over one of the most perfectly proportioned figures he had ever been privileged to see, dwelling with intense pleasure on the softly rounded curves and, oh, so tantalising shadows before forcing his eyes up to a sweetly curved mouth just begging to be kissed.

Only iron self-control kept him firmly rooted to the spot, but he was powerless to prevent that telltale husky note of desire from creeping into his voice as he said, ‘Miss Beresford, I thought you’d retired long since. I’m sorry if I startled you.’

‘Not at all, sir. It’s entirely my own fault for wandering about the place at this time of night.’ He watched a tentative little smile briefly curl up the corners of that delectable mouth as she glided towards the door leading to the bedchamber almost directly opposite his own. ‘I shall bid you good night, Sir Richard. I dare say we’ll see each other again in the morning.’

‘Oh, yes, Miss Beresford,’ he murmured as she disappeared into the room without another word, ‘you can be very sure of that…very, very sure.’

Chapter Three

Casting a far from appreciative eye round his allotted bedchamber, Richard rose wearily from the bed and went across to the bell-pull. He felt decidedly unrefreshed, but was only too well aware that he couldn’t blame his singular lack of sleep on unfamiliar surroundings, or on the four-poster bed which had proved both comfortable and roomy. Oh, no, the sole culprit for his insomnia lay not in this elegantly appointed room, but in the bedchamber almost directly opposite. And wasn’t that damnably frustrating in itself?

Unable to suppress a crooked half-smile, he seated himself at the dressing-table. Even now, he still found it difficult to accept that the elegantly poised young woman who had introduced herself the evening before, with all the calm self-assurance of some Grand Duchess, was the same Elizabeth Beresford he had known years ago.

Mother Nature, he mused, had wrought nothing short of a miracle there. In the space of a few short years she had transformed an unappealing nonentity into something quite out of the common way. To say that Elizabeth was the most beautiful woman he had ever clapped eyes on would be a gross exaggeration, he knew, but there was no denying that she was quite captivatingly lovely, both face and figure a delightful vista to any gentleman of superior tastes.

He experienced yet again the stirring of desire as his mind’s eye, for perhaps the hundredth time, visualised her as she had rounded the corner of the passageway the night before, seeming to float, not walk, towards him, like some enchanted, ethereal creature well above his touch. But this ought not to be the case, he reminded himself. By rights he ought to be able to touch that young woman whenever he desired; by rights she ought at this point in time to belong to him, body and soul; and he experienced a sense of acute disappointment, not to say resentment, that this was not the case.

Running slightly impatient fingers through his sleep-tousled dark brown hair, he cast his mind back over the years, trying to remember the last time he had set eyes on the young girl whom both his father and godfather had wished him to marry. His memory was hazy, but he vaguely recalled having glimpsed her at Henry Beresford’s funeral, a forlorn and solitary little figure standing quite apart from her mother and vivacious elder sister.

It must have been a year or, maybe, two later, when he had been out in the Peninsula fighting for his country, that he had received that one and only letter from her. She had considered that they were no longer obliged to comply with the wishes of their deceased fathers, and had released him completely from any obligation he might still have been harbouring to marry her.

Honesty prompted him to admit that he had experienced immense relief after reading that missive. After all, what man in his right mind was wishful to tie himself for life to a rather drab and plump female who had seemed incapable of stringing more than half a dozen words together at any one time? Of course he had felt duty-bound to write back suggesting that they wait a year or two before finally coming to a decision. He had received no further communication from her and, truth to tell, he hadn’t given Elizabeth Beresford a single thought during the intervening years…No, not one, until he had unexpectedly come face to face with her again the previous evening.

The bedchamber door opened and his valet entered, breaking into his far from satisfying reflections, and Richard managed with a modicum of success to put thoughts of Elizabeth aside. This relative peace of mind was destined not to last very long, however, for the first person he set eyes on when entering the breakfast parlour a short while later was none other than the sweet torment who had deprived him of so much sleep throughout the night.

As he seated himself at the table he experienced a rather irrational stab of irritation. He wasn’t quite certain whether this stemmed from the fact that Elizabeth, bright-eyed and cheerful, betrayed all too clearly that she hadn’t suffered from lack of sleep, or that she appeared on remarkably friendly terms with their host, who was still looking highly amused at something she had just said.

‘I trust you slept well?’ Brin enquired after a servant had supplied Richard’s needs.

‘Very,’ he lied. ‘You have a remarkably comfortable home here. It was a pleasure to sleep in a bedchamber where the fire didn’t billow out smoke every five minutes. I really must attend to the chimneys at Knightley Hall. Several of the fireplaces there are quite shocking.’

‘I recall a similar problem at my parents’ home,’ Elizabeth remarked, ‘especially when there was an east wind. Thankfully, I’m not plagued by such a nuisance at my home near Bristol.’

Richard frowned slightly at this. He had assumed, quite wrongly it seemed, that she still resided in her childhood home in Wiltshire, although he vaguely recalled learning of her mother’s demise a few years ago.

‘I wasn’t aware that you no longer resided in Wiltshire, Miss Beresford. Do you live with a relative?’

‘I did reside with my maternal grandmother. Sadly, she died last autumn.’ A veil of unhappiness clouded her eyes as she looked directly across the table at him. ‘And may I offer you my belated condolences. Some time ago I learned of your brother’s death. Such a terrible tragedy!’

Offering him no time in which to respond, Elizabeth rose to her feet and transferred her attention to their host, that spontaneous, sweet smile which had won his regard so quickly touching her lips. ‘I shall pay a visit to Verity’s room first. So, shall we meet in the stable yard—say, in half an hour’s time?’

Watching her leave the room, Brin experienced, yet again, amazement at her continued unmarried state, and shook his head in complete bewilderment. ‘I still find it difficult to understand why that lovely creature isn’t married.’

The hand raising the fork to Richard’s mouth checked for a moment. Yes, he ruminated, she most certainly ought to be. And if it wasn’t for the fact that the contrary little madam had suddenly taken it into her head to go against her deceased father’s expressed wishes, she would now be married to me!

Suddenly finding his appetite had deserted him, he pushed his plate aside and turned to his host as a thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘Am I right in thinking that Miss Beresford’s sister resides not too far from here?’

‘Yes, about three miles away.’

In that case, why hadn’t Elizabeth chosen to stay with her? Richard wondered. She could quite easily have visited her friend the Viscountess whenever she wished. Evadne must surely feel affronted knowing that her sister had preferred to stay here. Why, it was tantamount to a direct snub!

‘I hope Verity has remembered to warn Elizabeth that Lady Chiltham is not an infrequent visitor,’ Brin continued, and failed to notice his friend’s rather puzzled expression. ‘Apparently the sisters don’t get along too well. But, then, you’d know all about that, I dare say, your being a friend of the family.’

‘No, I didn’t know,’ Richard freely admitted, and was rather intrigued by this snippet of information. ‘Up until yesterday evening I hadn’t set eyes on either of them since the day of their father’s funeral.’

‘Well, no doubt you’ll be given ample opportunity to renew your acquaintanceship with Lady Chiltham during your stay with us. As I’ve already mentioned, she’s not an infrequent caller,’ Brin responded, his tone betraying clearly enough that he could wish it were quite otherwise.

Not offering his friend the opportunity to enquire further into the reason behind the sisters’ antipathy, Brin rose to his feet. ‘I’m an appalling host, deserting you like this on your first morning here, but if I don’t hurry and change, Elizabeth will be kept waiting.’ He made to leave, then checked as a most obvious solution occurred to him. ‘Why not join us? I’m taking Elizabeth on a tour round the estate.’

Richard needed no second prompting. Grand though it undoubtedly was, the estate was of precious little interest to him; Elizabeth Beresford, on the other hand, most definitely was. So he wasted no time in returning to his room to change into his riding gear, and accompanied Brin outside to the stables a short while later to discover Elizabeth, becomingly attired in a bottle-green habit, which seemed to emphasise those gorgeous red tones in her hair, already mounted on her ladyship’s chestnut filly.

‘You are a rare female, indeed,’ her host remarked approvingly, ‘One of the few I’ve ever known who can be on time!’ He glanced briefly in Richard’s direction, watched him mount the handsome bay, and then turned back to Elizabeth with a conspiratorial wink. ‘You do realise that we’re going to be made to look a pair of veritable whipsters in the company of the man who was reputed to be the finest horseman in Wellington’s army.’

Elizabeth couldn’t prevent a chuckle at Richard’s pained expression. ‘I am well aware of his prowess, sir. My father was not infrequently heard to remark that his godson could ride before he could walk.’

‘A gross exaggeration!’ Richard put in before either of them could utter any further absurdities at his expense. ‘This is a fine animal you have here, Brin,’ he went on, quickly changing the subject and giving the bay’s neck a fond pat.

‘I acquired him a couple of months ago. Yes, I’m rather pleased with him myself,’ he admitted as they all trotted out of the stable yard. ‘Do you still possess that brute you had with you in Spain?’

‘Sultan…? Sadly, no. The poor old fellow was shot from beneath me at Waterloo.’ Richard saw Elizabeth pale visibly, and cursed himself for an insensitive clod. ‘I’m so sorry, Miss Beresford. We seasoned campaigners tend to reminisce at the drop of a hat and frequently forget we’re in mixed company.’

‘My fault entirely,’ Brin interposed, feeling extremely guilty for raising the subject in the first place. ‘Dashed thoughtless thing for me to have said, considering your own experiences in Brussels last year.’

‘You do me too much honour, sir,’ Elizabeth countered with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Like so many other faint-hearted souls, my one and only desire after hearing that first distant rumble of cannon fire was to make a bolt for the nearest port.’

Brin didn’t know which shocked him more: Elizabeth’s frivolous, and far from truthful, response, or Richard’s openly contemptuous smirk in reaction to it. He was about to set his friend straight on the matter when his thoughts suddenly turned in an entirely different direction as he spotted his steward, in the company of one of his tenants, approaching them.

‘It looks as if my presence is required elsewhere.’ He cast them an apologetic smile. ‘Would you be good enough to accompany Elizabeth, Richard? Hopefully, I shouldn’t be too long and shall catch up with you both later.’

Although he was far from content to remain for long in the company of a female whom, with a complete turnabout of his former opinion, he now suspected of being quite light-minded, he politely agreed, but Elizabeth swiftly began to rise in his estimation again when she proved herself to be a very competent horsewoman. She handled the far-from-docile filly with praiseworthy ease, her light hands, deceptively, in full control.

‘I cannot recall ever seeing you ride before, Miss Beresford,’ he remarked as they headed towards the western boundary of the estate.

At this, her lips curled into the strangest little smile. ‘No, I don’t suppose for a moment that you can, sir. But, then, I doubt there’s very much you do remember about me.’

Although she had spoken lightly enough, without so much as a hint of pique in her soft and very pleasant voice, he seriously suspected that he had just received a reprimand and didn’t know whether to feel amused or annoyed by it.

After a moment’s deliberation he chose to be diverted. ‘Ungallant though it is of me to confess to it but, no, I don’t recall very much about you, ma’am. But, then, in my defence, I had little contact with you when you were a child, and it has been several years since we last met.’

‘Seven, to be exact.’

Little baggage! Was she deliberately trying to set him at a disadvantage? Or was it simply that she refused to indulge in the gentle art of dissimulation? Again he found himself more amused than annoyed, and not just a little intrigued as well.

‘Yes, of course, it was.’ He risked a sidelong glance in her direction, registered with a feeling of irritation that she was looking perfectly composed and experienced the most overwhelming desire to penetrate that shroud of cool dignity which seemed to be wrapped around her and glimpse the real essence of the woman beneath. ‘It was on the very sad occasion of your father’s funeral. If my memory serves me correctly, that was the last time I saw your sister too.’ He gazed intently at her delightful profile. ‘I hope she is in good health?’

‘Very, as far as I know.’ She turned her head to look at him then, and couldn’t prevent a smile at the quizzical lift of one dark brow. ‘Ours could never be described as a close family, sir. I became estranged from both my mother and sister when I chose to live with my maternal grandmother. Evadne did take the trouble to inform me of my mother’s demise, and I wrote to her last autumn informing her of our grandmother’s passing, but apart from those two instances, there has been no communication between us, verbal or otherwise, for several years.’

Because he had been so close to his own brother, he felt rather saddened to learn this, and not just a little appalled at Elizabeth’s seeming indifference to the state of affairs which existed between her and her sister. He decided, however, that it would be wrong of him to make a snap judgement on a situation about which he knew next to nothing, and changed the subject by enquiring if she now had a companion living with her to bear her company.

‘No, I live quite alone, except for the servants, that is. Oh, and Aggie, of course! But I don’t consider her a servant, even though she is my personal maid,’ she explained when he looked a trifle bewildered. ‘You perhaps wouldn’t remember her, but she was employed in my father’s household. She has known me since the day I was born, and is quite touchingly devoted.’ He found the rather wistful little smile which accompanied the admission most engaging. ‘I must say, Sir Richard, it is rather wonderful having someone around who is so concerned for my well-being, but she does tend to fuss over me like a mother hen.’

He tactfully refrained from voicing his staunch disapproval of a young lady of quality living alone and, as they made their way along the high ridge which formed the western boundary of his lordship’s land, encouraged her to talk about those years she had lived with her grandmother.

It didn’t take him long to discover that she had been touchingly devoted to her grandparent. She could not speak highly enough of the lady who had, through sheer determination and hard work, built up a thriving company, owning several sailing ships which had travelled to distant points on the globe, and who had died one of the richest women in Bristol.

As he listened he vaguely recalled his father once remarking on the fact that a substantial dowry was the only thing that had made Elizabeth’s mother acceptable to the younger son of an earl. Many of the top Ten Thousand still looked down on those who had any connection with trade, and he found himself admiring Elizabeth’s total lack of snobbery or embarrassment over her maternal grandparent’s humble origins. It was quite evident that she felt nothing but admiration for her grandmother’s businesslike acumen, and didn’t shy away from the fact that she owed her comfortable existence, now, to that woman’s hard-working life.

‘I wish I had had the pleasure of making her acquaintance,’ he remarked with total sincerity when she fell silent. ‘You make her sound a very interesting character.’

‘Oh, she was! There’s no denying she was a hard-headed businesswoman, as shrewd as they come, but there was a softer side to her nature too. She fell in love with my grandfather when she had just turned eighteen. Their marriage lasted such a tragically short length of time, less than six years, but she never married again, even though she received numerous offers throughout her life. She told me once that we were alike in that…that we were destined to love only once.’

For a brief moment he glimpsed a faraway look in her eyes, then she seemed to collect herself and looked at him with that completely unforced smile of hers, which never failed to reach her eyes, igniting a sparkle in those lovely grey-green depths.

‘My apologies, Sir Richard. You must think my tongue runs on wheels. I’ve done nothing but chatter about myself since we began our ride.’

Drawing her filly to a halt, she gazed at the rippling stream gurgling its way along the shallow valley below. ‘How beautiful it is here! Brin and Verity seem very contented in their new home, but they must find the landscape vastly different from their native Yorkshire.’

Richard, too, cast his eyes over the hilly terrain. ‘The more I travel about this glorious land of ours, the more I come to realise that each county possesses its own individual charm and beauty.’

‘Mmm.’ Elizabeth frowned suddenly. ‘I ought to travel more. It’s a dreadful thing to confess, but I’ve never ventured further north than Gloucester. I’ve always wanted to visit Scotland, and I could take in other places on the way—the Peaks, and the Lake District, to name but two. Late spring or early summer would be the ideal time to travel, don’t you agree?’

‘Emphatically no, Miss Beresford!’ he astounded her by responding in forthright tones. ‘Your father was my godfather, so I suppose I’m the closest you’ve ever had to a brother. Therefore, I do not scruple to tell you that it would not only be extremely foolhardy, but grossly improper for you to embark on such a venture without the support and guidance of some male relative.’

He could easily discern a look of combined annoyance and astonishment in her eyes, and was not just a little surprised himself that he had tried to interfere in something which was, after all, none of his concern. He was surprised, too, and not just a little bewildered by the totally unexpected and overwhelming desire he was experiencing to protect this young woman who was quite evidently battling against the very understandable compulsion to tell him to mind his own business.

‘I think, sir,’ Elizabeth said with careful restraint, ‘that it might be wise if we made our way back now. It doesn’t look as if Brin will be joining us, and I think if we are left alone together for very much longer we shall be in the gravest danger of coming to cuffs.’

His response was to throw his head back and roar with laughter, which only succeeded in annoying her further, but by the time they had arrived back at the Dartwoods’ charming country residence genial relations had once again been restored.

As she walked with Richard towards the house, Elizabeth was vaguely aware that there was a carriage standing in the courtyard, but gave not a single thought to the possible identity of the person who had called, until she entered her bedchamber and saw the disgruntled look on her maid’s face.

‘And what has put you out of temper this morning, Aggie? Had a difference of opinion with one of her ladyship’s servants, have we?’

‘To hear you talk, Miss Elizabeth, anyone would think I was the kind of odiously bossy female who always tried to rule the roost.’

‘And so you are!’ Elizabeth returned, never having put a guard on her tongue where Agatha was concerned. ‘Well, out with it, then!’ she encouraged when her maid regarded her in tight-lipped indignation. ‘If it wasn’t one of the servants then who, or what, has sent you into a fit of the sullens?’

‘Her ladyship has a visitor,’ Agatha unlocked her mouth to announce in tones of dire foreboding.

‘Ha! I begin to see daylight.’ Peeling off her habit, Elizabeth regarded the maid with an understanding smile. ‘So, darling Evadne is here, is she? Well, we knew it would be only a matter of time.’ A hint of mischief sparkled in her eyes. ‘Do you know, Aggie, Wellington could have done with your services during the Peninsular Campaign. You would have made an excellent spy. You possess the most uncanny knack of discovering things with quite remarkable speed,’ but Agatha refused to be diverted and looked at her mistress in some concern.

‘Be careful, my lamb,’ she urged. ‘She were a nasty, malicious child. I know people can change over the years, but it’s been my experience that they never do to that extent, unless forced to mend their ways.’

‘Pray, don’t concern yourself on my account.’ Elizabeth was completely undaunted at the prospect of coming face to face again with the female who had bullied her quite mercilessly years before. ‘You above anyone else should know that Evadne would never show herself in a poor light when in public. She will be all charm and social graces.’

A hard look, rarely glimpsed in her, suddenly took possession of Elizabeth’s fine features. ‘One viper in a family is more than enough. But if she is foolish enough to cross swords with me again, then she might be surprised at the venom I possess. My grandmother taught me well. I’m more than a match, now, for my beloved sister.’

Although Agatha said nothing further while she helped her mistress change her attire, she was still experiencing a deal of concern; but she was, as she had been told, fretting quite needlessly. When Elizabeth left the bedchamber and descended the ornately carved staircase she was complete mistress of herself.

In point of fact, her self-confidence had reached a new high. She had, after all, coped superbly with Richard’s unexpected and rather unnerving presence in this house, not once betraying her true feelings for him. But it wouldn’t do at all to become overconfident, she reminded herself, recalling vividly that moment earlier when he had dared to presume that he could dictate how she should go on. Such impudence! She had come perilously close to losing her temper, but that, she knew, would have been a grave mistake. If she allowed anger to surface, what other emotions might she foolishly betray to the man whom she had adored since her girlhood?

A young footman opened the salon door for her and she couldn’t prevent a smile at the anxious glance the Viscountess shot in her husband’s direction before he rose to his feet. Richard rose also, and she thought she could detect a flicker of unease in his eyes before she transferred her gaze to the elegantly attired woman seated beside a total stranger on the couch.

If Lady Chiltham was experiencing shock over her sister’s drastically altered appearance she certainly betrayed no sign of it as she went rushing forward to embrace her warmly. Elizabeth, however, was far too experienced in the ways of her elder sister to be fooled by the false display of affection and, refusing to return the embrace, merely said, ‘You are looking well, Evadne. Marriage and motherhood evidently agree with you.’ The large cornflower-blue eyes were as brightly sparkling as she remembered, but her sister was betraying clear signs that she was rapidly approaching her thirtieth year. Tiny lines were beginning to mar what had once been a flawless complexion, and there was a definite hard, pinched look about the mouth that had once been so softly inviting to members of the opposite sex. ‘I trust your husband and children are keeping well?’

‘Clara and little Edwin go on very nicely, unlike their poor papa who does tend to suffer from the gout from time to time.’

An image of the obese Baron when last she had seen him sprang before Elizabeth’s mind’s eye. He was not renowned for depriving himself of his creature comforts and she wouldn’t be in the least surprised to discover that his girth had increased over the years.

‘Do the children resemble their father, Evadne?’

‘Edwin does, certainly, but most say that Clara is the image of her mama.’ Lady Chiltham then prudently changed the subject, before her sister could remark on the fact that she had never set eyes on either her niece or nephew, by introducing her to Mrs Westbridge who was at present staying with them and who, it transpired, was Sir Richard’s nearest neighbour.

‘Before you entered I was on the point of inviting Sir Richard to dine with us on Friday, and sincerely trust that you will accompany him.’

‘I shall be honoured to act as your sister’s escort, Lady Chiltham,’ Richard responded, thereby offering Elizabeth no opportunity to accept or otherwise.

Evadne appeared genuinely pleased and smiled delightedly as she transferred her gaze to the occupants of the red upholstered couch on the opposite side of the room. ‘I fully understand why your ladyship is disinclined to accept invitations at the present time,’ she remarked, ‘so shall not press you, ma’am. I’m certain, though, that you’d have no objection to my depriving you of my charming sister’s company for just one evening.’

‘Of course not,’ Verity responded, having little choice, and could only hope that Elizabeth wasn’t too disturbed at the prospect of dining at the Chilthams’ home, but gained some comfort from the knowledge that Richard would be there too.

Conversation then became general, but Lady Chiltham, never having failed to adhere to the strict rules governing polite behaviour, rose to her feet a few minutes later as the socially acceptable time allotted for paying morning visits drew to a close. ‘Would you be kind enough to escort me out to my carriage, Elizabeth?’

A wickedly mischievous look added an extra sparkle to a pair of grey-green eyes. ‘Believe me, Evadne, nothing could afford me greater pleasure!’

The double entendre might have escaped Lady Chiltham, but Richard was very well aware of precisely what the younger sister had meant and cast a frowning glance at her slender retreating back as the three ladies left the room.

‘Phew!’ The Viscount put his fingers to his neckcloth as though it had suddenly grown uncomfortably tight. ‘Well, that went rather better than we had dared to hope.’

Verity smiled. ‘I must confess I was on tenterhooks, but I should have realised that Elizabeth would rise to the occasion.’

‘You’ll forgive me for saying so,’ Richard remarked, delving into his pocket to draw out his snuffbox, ‘but aren’t you making rather too much of it? I understand the coolness between the sisters is of several years’ standing, but I’m certain that, now they have been reunited, the breach will soon be healed. Lady Chiltham, at least, seems eager to make up their differences.’

Verity regarded him in open-mouthed astonishment for a moment. ‘It’s quite obvious to me, sir, that you know nothing about the matter. Elizabeth warned me before we even moved down here that her sister possessed two faces—one she keeps for public show, and a very different one for private. And Elizabeth doesn’t lie.’

‘I’m not so certain of that,’ her husband responded unexpectedly, and she looked up at him sharply.

‘What on earth do you mean, Brin?’

‘It was something she said to me earlier,’ he explained, looking decidedly puzzled. ‘I recall clearly your telling me that Elizabeth’s only reason for going to Brussels last year was to take care of her grandmother who was concerned for the welfare of her godson. Thankfully, he was amongst the lucky ones and came through the battle unscathed. We also both know for a fact that Elizabeth remained in Brussels for far longer than had been originally planned in order to nurse several wounded British soldiers. She mentioned that in the letter she wrote to you from Brussels last summer, remember? So why, when I brought the subject up, did she try to give the impression that it had been quite otherwise—that she had fled the capital shortly after the battle had begun?’

Richard transferred his gaze from the Viscount’s rather puzzled expression to study the delicately painted box in his hand. Yes, he silently agreed, that was most odd. Perhaps, though, she was by nature very modest and didn’t want her highly commendable acts of kindness to become generally known. Or, maybe, there was some other reason? She must have realised, surely, that Brin knew the truth already? So there could have been only one other whom she had been trying to mislead. His eyes narrowed. How very intriguing!

Before returning to his estates in Hampshire, he decided, clamping his jaws together in hard determination, he intended to get to know the delightful Miss Beresford a good deal better!

Chapter Four

Settling himself more comfortably in the corner of his well-sprung travelling carriage, Richard looked across at his intriguing companion with narrowed, assessing eyes. Although they had resided under the same roof for several days, he knew little more about Elizabeth Beresford now than he had after that first exploratory ride across Viscount Dartwood’s estate.

It would be grossly unjust to suggest that she had deliberately gone out of her way to avoid him, because she most certainly had not. He’d spent many pleasurable hours in her company, either exploring the Devonshire countryside on horseback, or enjoying a hand or two of piquet in the evenings after dinner; but since that first ride across the estate, they had never once found themselves alone together.

Of course this went some way to explain why he’d been unable to discover anything further about the life she had been leading since leaving the protection of her family home; nor, indeed, what had induced her to seek sanctuary with her maternal grandmother in the first place. He could hardly question her in any great detail when in the company of either their host or hostess. To do so would give rise to the wildest suppositions, especially on the part of the sportive Viscountess, who was quite obviously as touchingly fond of Elizabeth as was that dragon-faced maid who always accompanied her whenever she took a stroll in the gardens.

Not that he believed this was done with the deliberate intention of thwarting his attempts to be alone with her, nor through any reasons of propriety, either. If that were the case, why hadn’t Miss Beresford insisted on her maid accompanying her out this evening? After all, it was hardly considered correct behaviour for a young, unmarried female to ride in a closed carriage with a gentleman who wasn’t a close relative without the support of some female companion.

‘Something appears to be troubling you, Sir Richard,’ Elizabeth remarked, turning her head suddenly and catching the frowning scrutiny. ‘If it is the prospect of dining with the Chilthams which has brought on a bout of ill-humour, then let me remind you that it was you who accepted the invitation, not I.’

‘On the contrary, I am looking forward to it.’ He didn’t add that it might offer the opportunity to discover why—and this was pure supposition on his part—she seemed disinclined to make up her differences with her sister. ‘I’m rather surprised, though, that you chose to leave your maid behind.’

He had long since come to the conclusion that she was far from slow-witted and wasn’t in the least surprised, therefore, to see a spark of mischief suddenly brighten her eyes. ‘Sir Richard, let me assure you that you’re in no danger of being compromised. Nor do I consider my reputation is likely to suffer by taking a short carriage ride with you. Besides which, I deemed it far more important for Aggie to remain at the house.’

She wasn’t slow to recognise the unspoken question in his eyes, either. ‘It’s my belief that the Viscountess is nearer her time than she supposes.’

His brow rose. ‘I didn’t realise, Miss Beresford, that amongst your many other accomplishments you were such an expert on childbearing.’

‘Certainly not in childbearing, sir. But I have some experience of childbirth.’

Again his brow rose and he regarded her with amused interest. ‘May I be permitted to know how you acquired this knowledge?’

‘Unlike many young females of my class, I have not frittered away my time in sewing or painting water-colour pictures. During the past few years I have not infrequently accompanied Tom out when he has made calls.’

‘Tom?’ he echoed, totally bemused.

‘Dr Thomas Carrington, a licentiate of the London College of Physicians.’ Her lips curled into a warm smile, betraying clearly enough her regard for the doctor. ‘His father was an apothecary and a close friend of my grandmother’s. He died when Tom was little more than ten years old, and my grandmother virtually brought Tom up. She took him into her home, paid for his education and provided him with funds when he went to train in London. When he returned to Bristol he continued to live in my grandmother’s house up until her death.’

Her sudden scowl revealed quite beautifully her feelings of intense annoyance, even before she added, ‘He then considered that it would be grossly improper for him to remain there with me, and now resides in the far from comfortable rooms above his father’s old shop.’ She raised her hand in an impatient gesture. ‘I’ve come to the conclusion that your sex can be quite foolishly stubborn at times!’

He decided that, as she seemed in an informative frame of mind, it might be wise to refrain from agreeing wholeheartedly with the actions the doctor had taken on her behalf, but could not resist remarking, ‘And I suppose the experience you gained by accompanying Dr Carrington on those visits to his various patients over the years came in very useful when you were in Brussels last summer?’

Her expression betrayed her immediate understanding. ‘I see! So you’ve been gossiping about me behind my back.’

‘It was remarked upon that you nursed some British soldiers, certainly,’ he admitted.

‘And so did many others, sir,’ she responded with yet another dismissive wave of her hand. ‘My grandmother and I were in no way unique. Many opened their doors to the injured.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘I understand that you, too, were wounded and offered sanctuary. I trust you were not badly hurt?’

‘As you see, ma’am, I survived.’ Richard turned his head to stare out of the window at the rapidly fading light as he experienced again that all-too-frequent gnawing spasm of grief. Would thoughts of Mary Smith, and her untimely death, always remain a painful torment?

He forced himself to look back at Elizabeth again, saw that she was regarding him rather thoughtfully and decided it might be to his advantage to change the subject before she turned the tables on him and began to enquire too deeply into certain aspects of his past that he would far rather be allowed to forget.

Consequently, they continued the journey with him only raising topics as impersonal as the weather, which had in the past twenty-four hours grown markedly colder. Evidently, Elizabeth was feeling the drop in temperature, for he noticed her shiver and glance up at the dark early evening sky as she stepped down from the carriage, after it had drawn to a halt outside the front entrance of the Chilthams’ imposing but rather gloomy greystone mansion.

The high-ceilinged, draughty hall was anything but inviting, but no fault could be found with the warmth of the welcome bestowed upon them by their hostess as they entered the drawing-room. Lord Chiltham, too, was urbanity itself, praising his sister-in-law on her charming appearance before introducing her to his youngest brother, Edward, who was at present residing with them and who, Elizabeth noted with a wry smile, was in the gravest danger of continuing the family tradition by doubling the size of his girth by middle age.

Several people had been invited to dine and the sumptuous meal, which included numerous courses and a wide variety of richly prepared dishes, as Lord Chiltham was not famed for his abstinence, was most enjoyable. Afterwards the ladies returned to the drawing-room and Elizabeth found herself seated beside the lady who had accompanied Evadne on her visit to Dartwood Manor two days before.

Apart from the fact that Caroline Westbridge resided in Hampshire, and happened to be Sir Richard’s nearest neighbour, Elizabeth knew absolutely nothing about her. She had seemed rather ill at ease when she had made that visit with Evadne, barely uttering a word, while at the same time watchful.

This evening, however, she appeared far more relaxed and chatted away on a variety of topics before announcing quite unexpectedly, ‘You are nothing like your sister, Miss Beresford.’

Elizabeth had heard this remarked upon too many times in the past to experience the least pang of jealousy. Although she held her sister in scant regard, she had to own that Evadne, even though not in her first flush of youth, was still an extremely pretty woman.

She glanced across the room to where her sister stood conversing with the Rector’s wife and eldest daughter. Considering Evadne had borne two children, her figure was good, and although perhaps her complexion could no longer withstand close inspection, her blonde hair still retained its guinea-gold lustre.

‘No, I bear no resemblance to my sister whatsoever. There’s no denying that Evadne was the beauty in the family, and I must confess she has retained her looks remarkably well.’

‘She certainly has,’ Mrs Westbridge agreed. ‘But I was thinking more of the difference between you in temperament.’

Although she had spoken levelly enough, there was something in the tone which puzzled Elizabeth. She had assumed that Mrs Westbridge was an old friend of Evadne’s, but she experienced the oddest feeling, now, that this was far from the case.

‘Have you been acquainted with my sister long, ma’am?’

‘My husband was Lord Chiltham’s cousin. We became acquainted through our husbands.’

‘Was?’ Elizabeth echoed.

‘I’ve been a widow for five years.’

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’

‘One grows accustomed, Miss Beresford. My son is my life now. He’ll be going to university in the autumn, and I must confess I miss him dreadfully when he’s away from home.’

‘I see you two are getting along famously.’

Evadne’s sudden interruption brought the little teˆte-a`-teˆte to an abrupt end. It seemed to bring a cessation to Caroline Westbridge’s friendly and easygoing manner too. Although she added one or two snippets to the ensuing conversation, she appeared to have grown tense quite suddenly, with that watchful, almost wary look returning to her eyes.

Elizabeth was not granted the opportunity to dwell on this rather puzzling circumstance, for a few minutes later the door opened and the gentlemen rejoined them. Evadne was in her element, and it rather amused Elizabeth to discover just how much pleasure her sister derived from playing the hostess.

There was no denying that she was extremely adept at the role, dismissing such mundane entertainments as cards or charades as commonplace, and encouraging most of her guests to join in one of her, now, famous treasure hunts. Only Lord Chiltham, the Rector and his wife refused to be tempted. Names were written on pieces of paper and placed in a bowl, and Richard, his being the first name to be drawn out, found himself partnered with Caroline Westbridge, which seemed not to displease either of them. The Rector’s daughter was teamed up with the very handsome son of the local squire, which left Edward Chiltham to make up the last pairing with Elizabeth.

She was not too disappointed at this. Edward was an amiable enough young man, if a trifle light-minded, but the bright glint in his eyes, which suggested that he had been imbibing rather too freely of his brother’s port, did cause her a moment’s disquiet.

Handing each pair a folded sheet of paper on which was written their first clue, Evadne started each couple off at ten-minute intervals. Elizabeth and Edward were the last to begin and it didn’t take Elizabeth very long to realise that she would be doing most of the searching and solving of clues on her own, as Edward appeared far more interested in reducing the levels in the decanters placed in the various rooms.

By the time she had discovered the whereabouts of the fifth clue, taped to the back of the mantel-clock in the Yellow Salon, Edward had succumbed to his excesses and had fallen sound asleep on the sofa; whereas Richard and Caroline, having satisfactorily completed the hunt in record time, were making their way back along the gallery towards the head of the stairs.

‘Evadne is quite famous for her treasure hunts, and I must say it does make a pleasant change from sitting down and playing cards.’

‘Yes, most enjoyable,’ Richard concurred. ‘But I think someone should drop Lady Chiltham a hint to play her games only during the summer months. Some of these rooms are confoundedly draughty!’

Caroline laughingly agreed. ‘I must say my bedchamber is not the most comfortable of rooms. Fortunately my visit this time is only a brief one,’ she confided, smiling up at his handsome face.

She had been a close neighbour of the Knightleys for almost sixteen years. Richard had been little more than a boy when she had first gone to live in Hampshire with her husband. She had liked his brother very much, and Richard’s sister-in-law had been a particular friend. Their deaths had upset her deeply; but she had never doubted Richard’s ability to take his brother’s place as head of the family. He had inherited the Knightley temperament, steadfast and reliable, and had already won the respect of his tenants and estate workers during the few short months he had been back in England.

‘How long do you intend to remain in Devon?’ His sudden scowl surprised her. ‘I’m sorry, Richard. I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘No, no. I wasn’t thinking that,’ he hurriedly assured her, his attractive smile erasing the lines in his forehead. ‘I really haven’t given it much thought…Another week, maybe two.’

‘Lord and Lady Dartwood seem a charming couple,’ she remarked after a moment’s silence.

‘Yes, they are. I’ve known the Viscount for some time, of course. Before he came into the title he was in the army. We spent several years together out in the Peninsula. But this is the first time I’ve met his wife.’

‘Am I right in thinking that she and Miss Beresford were at school together?’

‘Yes, yes, they were. The Viscountess thinks a great deal of her.’

Caroline paused for a moment before descending the stairs. ‘I had the pleasure of speaking to her earlier and thought her a most charming and likeable young woman.’

She chanced to glance up at him as he opened the drawing-room door for her and caught a look in his eyes, a strange mixture of tenderness and what appeared suspiciously like exasperation, and couldn’t help but wonder whether the Dartwoods’ hospitality was the reason he seemed disinclined to leave Devonshire, or something else entirely.

‘How quick you have been!’ Evadne exclaimed as they entered the room. ‘I can see I’m going to have to make the clues more difficult in future.’

She then invited them to play a game or two of whist while they awaited the others. The Rector’s daughter and her partner were the next to return; but half an hour later there was still no sign of Elizabeth and Edward.

Richard glanced up at the clock. It was getting quite late and he didn’t wish to delay his departure too long. His coachman, no longer a young man, was not as dependable as he had once been, and might well lose his way on the unfamiliar roads. ‘I think I’d better go in search of Miss Beresford,’ he announced, rising to his feet. ‘It’s time we were taking our leave.’

Evadne, betraying a moment’s alarm, rose also and drew him to one side. ‘I haven’t as yet been given the opportunity, but I was hoping to persuade Elizabeth to remain here with me tonight.’ She couldn’t mistake the surprised look in his eyes and smiled dazzlingly up at him. ‘Yes, I’m sure, Richard, you have gathered by now that relations between my sister and me have not been—well, very good. And I wish to rectify this.’

She paused as though expecting a response, but when he remained silent, staring down at her almost quizzically, she added, ‘Like most family disagreements, ours grew out of all proportion. My mother was deeply upset when Elizabeth suddenly took it into her head to live with our grandmother and, naturally, I took Mama’s part. But I never intended the estrangement between Elizabeth and myself to continue all these years. So very unnecessary! So foolish!’

His expression changed instantly to one of approval. ‘Far be it from me to throw a rub in your way, but I think it only right and proper that I go in search of her and inform her that I intend to leave.’

‘Oh, no, don’t do that!’ Placing a restraining hand on his arm, she stared into his dark eyes with a look of entreaty in her own. ‘She’ll very likely wish to go with you, and I shall be denied the opportunity to speak to her alone. I cannot abandon my other guests, and was hoping to have a long talk after the others have gone. I cannot expect to heal the breach in five minutes and if, after she has heard me out, she is still determined to leave, then I shall return her safely to Dartwood Manor in my own carriage.’

In the face of these assurances Richard couldn’t find it within himself to thwart her plans. He saw no earthly reason why he should remain, though, and after saying he would order his own carriage brought round from the stables, he made his farewells and went out into the hall.

As a young footman helped him on with his coat, Richard heard the sound of a door closing and turned in time to glimpse a flash of Elizabeth’s dark blue velvet cloak before she disappeared down a narrow passageway. Where on earth was she going? he wondered. Evidently she had gone hopelessly wrong somewhere in the hunt, for all the clues and answers were to be found on the upper floor.

‘Where does that lead?’

The footman turned his head in the direction of Sir Richard’s pointing finger. ‘The kitchen area, sir, and the cellar.’

‘Good heavens! She has got herself hopelessly lost!’

‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

‘Nothing. Don’t bother to order my carriage just yet,’ he called over his shoulder as he set off across the hall. ‘I’ll arrange for it to be brought round later.’

The passageway was dimly lit and, like the rest of the house, prone to draughts. Picking up a candle off an old wooden table placed against the wall, he turned the corner, and was about to open the door on his left, when he saw a faint glimmer of light through an open doorway at the very end of the passage. Shielding the candle flame with his cupped hand, he approached the door and, seeing a series of stone steps, realised it must lead to the cellar.

‘Miss Beresford,’ he called. There was no response, so he descended the steps to the cold stone floor below. ‘Miss Beresford, are you down here?’

‘Sir Richard?’ Her head appeared from behind one of the huge wooden wine racks. ‘I see you had the sense to put on your coat, too. This house is abominably draughty. And it’s absolutely freezing down here!’

‘Very true. But what quite amazes me, my dear girl,’ he responded as he moved towards her, ‘is what you’re doing down here in the first place.’

‘The same as you, I should imagine. I’m looking for clues. I sincerely hope this is the last one. I’m rather tired of this game. It seems to have gone on for—’

Elizabeth caught herself up abruptly as the sound of the door being slammed shut echoed loudly round the cold stone walls. There followed the unmistakable grating of a key being turned in a lock, and Elizabeth looked up at Richard, the all-too-obvious question in her eyes.

‘It would certainly seem so.’ He removed a fleck of dust from his sleeve. ‘How exceedingly tiresome!’

Elizabeth ran back up the steps and her groan as she tried to turn the doorknob was confirmation enough. ‘What are we to do?’

‘Wait until someone comes searching for us.’

He sat himself on the edge of a large wooden table. It creaked slightly beneath his weight, but he had every confidence that it would support him and began to swing one well-muscled leg to and fro, for all the world as though he hadn’t a care.

‘Aren’t you coming up here to help me attract someone’s attention?’ Elizabeth paused in her pounding of the door to ask.

‘No. But far be it from me to stop you making yourself hoarse and bruising your hands if you’ve a mind to do so.’ The look she cast down at him left him in no doubt that she would have derived great pleasure from pounding her fists against him. ‘I think I should warn you, though, before you become completely exhausted, that there isn’t an earthly chance of someone hearing you unless he happens to be in that passageway. And it’s quite obvious to me, at least, that the culprit has long since departed, or is profoundly deaf.’

‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ After descending the steps again, she moved towards the table, a sudden frown creasing her brow. ‘If you didn’t come down here searching for clues, why did you come?’

‘To bid you farewell. I was on the point of departure when I happened to catch sight of you disappearing down the passageway.’

‘You were leaving?’ Initially she experienced surprise, but then felt quite aggrieved. ‘What…without me?’

He couldn’t prevent a slight smile at this. ‘Your sister hopes to persuade you to stay the night. She’s wishful to make up your differences.’

‘Is she, indeed.’ Elizabeth was decidedly sceptical. She would never trust her sister an inch, but at the same time would have granted her the opportunity to say her piece. ‘I shall certainly listen to what she has to say, but I’ve no intention of remaining here all night.’

‘Let us hope we’re permitted a choice, my dear,’ he responded drily and, easing himself off the table, held his candle aloft. ‘In the meantime, we may as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible. There’s no saying how long we’ll be forced to wait before we’re released from our temporary confinement.’

He discovered a pile of sacks in a crate and began to carry them across to the table. ‘Spread these out. At least we’ll have something soft to sit on. And, thankfully, we’re not short of something to quench our thirsts, either.’

He began to inspect the wine racks while Elizabeth placed the sacks neatly over the table. ‘If I know anything of butlers, there’s sure to be an opener here somewhere. Ha! Here it is, ready for his secret tipple, but no glasses, I’m afraid. Still,’ he shrugged, ‘one cannot expect every creature comfort.’

He rejoined her at the table and, after helping her to climb upon it, settled himself down on the sacks beside her. The opening of the bottle was accomplished easily enough, and he offered her the first taste, smiling at her grimace as she foolishly took rather a large swallow of the excellent old brandy.

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