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

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

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

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

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

Lord Hawkridge’s Secret

Harlequin^® Historical

Author Note

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

I hope you enjoy it!

LORDHAWKRIDGE’S SECRET
ANNE ASHLEY

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

Available from Harlequin^®Historical and ANNE ASHLEY

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ANNE ASHLEY

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

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What’s that he said, miss?’

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

‘He’s probably lost his wits, miss.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes, Grandfather, shot.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘A bit vague this morning, eh?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘The granddaughter of a near neighbour of mine.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Why, yes! Have you been invited?’

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

Chapter Two

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

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

‘No. Why do you ask?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘And the gentleman in question believed you?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Among others, yes,’ his lordship admitted.

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

‘No.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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