‘Can you not think of someone you might recommend, Andrew? Will you not save me from taking the next fortune-hunter that crosses my path?’

‘Are you playing a game with me?’ Andrew stopped walking, turning to look into her eyes. ‘If this is your idea of amusement we may banter and then forget it—but if you are in earnest I shall give the matter some serious thought. However, I think you must give yourself a little more time.’

Mariah pouted. ‘Must I? Very well. I am prepared to wait a few months longer, if I must, but please take me seriously. If you cannot help me I may have to decide for myself—and then I might make a mistake. How would you feel with that on your conscience? I am a lonely widow at the mercy of unscrupulous men—and I am asking you for help. Ignore me at your peril.’

‘My hands are tied for the moment. Come, can you truly not wait a little longer to find a husband who will love and care for you?’

‘If he was the right man I would wait for ever,’ Mariah said, and for once she was not laughing. Her heart raced. Surely he must know what was in her mind? She could not have been plainer …

SECRETS AND SCANDALS

Nothing stays secret for long in Regency Society!

The truth threatens to reveal a scandal

for all three couples in this

exciting new trilogy from

Anne Herries

THE DISAPPEARING DUCHESS—

February 2012

THE MYSTERIOUS LORD MARLOWE—

March 2012

THE SCANDALOUS LORD LANCHESTER—

April 2012

You can also find these as eBooks. Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.lindasole.co.uk

Previous novels by the same author:

THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY

A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE*

AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVER SQUARE*

THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE*

FORBIDDEN LADY†

THE LORD’S FORCED BRIDE†

THE PIRATE’S WILLING CAPTIVE†

HER DARK AND DANGEROUS LORD†

BOUGHT FOR THE HAREM

HOSTAGE BRIDE

THE DISAPPEARING DUCHESS**

THE MYSTERIOUS LORD MARLOWE**

*A Season in Town trilogy

† The Melford Dynasty

**Secrets and Scandals

And in the Regency series The Steepwood Scandal:

LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE

COUNTERFEIT EARL

And in The Hellfire Mysteries:

AN IMPROPER COMPANION

A WEALTHY WIDOW

A WORTHY GENTLEMAN

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Scandalous
Lord Lanchester

Anne Herries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Prologue

See Naples and die. Those romantic words could be taken two ways. Andrew, Lord Lanchester, smiled wryly as he looked at the rundown hovels along the waterfront and knew them to be the haunt of knaves, cutthroats and thieves. Was he truly likely to find the man he sought in those rundown hovels? Looking about him at the peeling paint and trying not to gag on the stench of the gutters, Andrew frowned. The man he was searching for was a rogue and a thief and his journey would in all probability be a wasted one. Yet he had no choice if he wanted to clear his own name of the shadow that hung over it.

For the moment his commanding officer had promised to keep silent about the letter accusing Andrew of stealing regimental silver worth more than ten thousand pounds.

‘You know I would take your word above anyone’s, Lanchester, but the fact remains that the silver was stolen at a time when you were in charge of its safe-keeping—and this letter accuses you of taking it.’

‘I swear to you, Harrison, that I am innocent of the crime. Yes, at the time I was a little short of funds for a while. It was difficult, I shall not deny it, but I solved my problem. Of what possible use would the silver be to me? If it was melted down, the metal would be worth only a fraction of its true worth and it must be impossible to sell.’

‘Unless it was taken abroad somewhere.’

‘Even so …’ Andrew felt a spurt of anger. ‘You think that my visit to Italy at about that time might have been for such a purpose?’

‘I have not said I suspect you, Lanchester. Curb your pride, man. If I wished, I could take this to headquarters and have you brought to a court-martial—but I am as certain as it is possible to be that whoever took the silver meant to implicate you. My opinion is that you have an enemy. Think carefully, Andrew—who hates you enough to want you brought down?’

‘I have no idea. As far as I know I have no enemies—at least none that would go to such lengths to ruin me.’

‘There must be someone … what about Lieutenant Gordon? Did you not have him disciplined for cheating at cards and general behaviour unworthy of a gentleman and officer?’

‘William Gordon?’ Andrew wrinkled his brow. ‘Good grief, I had forgotten that—it was so long ago. He offered his resignation and disappeared a few months later. Wasn’t there some scandal over another officer’s wife?’

‘Yes. The officer wanted it hushed up, but Gordon was asked to resign. The last I heard he inherited a small estate, gambled most of it away in a few weeks and disappeared abroad. I believe he was in Italy for a time, though I’ve heard nothing for ages. He might even be dead.’

‘Lieutenant Gordon …’ Andrew was thoughtful. ‘It is possible, of course, though I do not see why he should hate me that much.’

‘I do not say it is Gordon, but someone wants you discredited. Are you in someone’s way? Who would benefit if you were socially ruined—or dead?’ Andrew raised his brows, but Major Harrison looked grim. ‘You wouldn’t be the first man to take his own life because he couldn’t stand the stigma of social disgrace. Even a whisper might spoil your chances of a good marriage, for instance. Someone might hope for more than your ruin.’

‘Yes, I see that … the devil of it is that I had been thinking I might make a certain lady an offer. This changes things. Obviously, I cannot even consider marriage until I’ve cleared my name.’

Chapter One

Mariah, widow and spoiled darling of the late Lord Winston Fanshawe, stood at the window of her bedchamber and surveyed the scene before her. The lakes were undoubtedly beautiful. On this cloudless day of warm sunshine the water lay glistening, sparkling like blue diamonds, and the surrounding countryside was glorious. She thought she actually preferred the lakes to the other parts of Italy they had visited these past few months. Mariah and her travelling companions, Lord and Lady Hubert, were staying in a villa overlooking Lake Como. Only a short distance from Milan, it was more secluded than some of the other lakes and the woods were delightful. Her friends had spoiled her throughout the trip, deferring to her needs and preferences, going out of their way to make her happy.

Why, then, did her throat catch and her eyes fill too easily with tears? Why did she feel so alone, even when in the midst of friends? Surely it was not because of her recent unpleasant experiences at the hands of Captain Blake? He had kidnapped her and kept her drugged when she refused to give him what he wanted, which was her hand in marriage and her fortune. Such an ordeal might have broken another woman, but Mariah had recovered swiftly. No, it was not that painful episode that had brought on this feeling of loneliness, but something more personal.

She sighed, feeling restless, already considering where she would go next. Nowhere was home to her, despite the fact that she had several properties left to her by her late husband. Since his death she had wandered from place to place, never feeling settled for more than a few days. Even when staying with her longtime friend, Justin, Duke of Avonlea, and his lovely wife Lucinda, she had felt alone—empty inside.

Just what was she searching for?

‘Mariah, dearest. We have a visitor—will you come down?’

Turning, she looked at Sylvia, Lady Hubert, the friend who had done so much to help her forget her troubles these past months. She had needed to get away from England after her abduction and Sylvia had suggested she join them on this trip.

Mariah did not recall much of her ordeal. The men who had kidnapped her had subdued her with some kind of a foul drug. She thought a cloth soaked in a strong-smelling solution had been placed over her nose and mouth in the carriage as she tried to assist Jane. Her brave, impetuous friend Jane, who had pretended to be her in the hope that they would let Mariah go. She was so fond of the girl she’d known for most of her life—and of Jane’s brother, Andrew.

Thoughts of Andrew Lanchester made Mariah’s hands clench at her sides. She refused to break her heart for the foolish man! He was probably still mooning over Lucinda Avonlea. Surely he must know that Justin’s wife was deeply in love with her husband? Mariah tossed her head. If she allowed herself to think of him, she would be a fool indeed.

‘You ought to come down, dearest.’ Sylvia’s words broke into her thoughts. ‘It will seem odd if you do not.’

‘Must I?’ she asked in answer to Sylvia’s question. They had so many visitors that it sometimes seemed she could never be quiet. ‘Who is it this morning?’

‘Someone you will be pleased to see, I think. He brings you letters from home—and claims to be a friend.’

Mariah’s breath caught in her throat and her heart started to thump madly. ‘Is it … Lord Lanchester?’ she asked, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. ‘He did say he might visit …’

‘Do you know the gentleman?’

‘Yes. He is Justin’s neighbour and perfectly respectable.’

‘I did not doubt it.’ Lady Hubert smiled. ‘Well, shall you come?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Mariah smiled. ‘Give me a moment to tidy my hair. I shall not be long.’

As her friend departed, she glanced at herself in the mirror, patting her heavy dark blonde hair, which she wore caught up in a knot at the nape of her neck, and tweaking a few tendrils about her face. Despite walking in the sunshine most days, her skin still had that perfect English-rose colouring that was so much admired.

Her pulses raced as she left her room and walked down the wide marble staircase. The villa, set in amongst trees, which clung to the hillsides surrounding the lake, was a rather magnificent one and belonged to Count Paolo. He was a particular friend of Lord Hubert and had lent it to them for two months, while he was away in Venice on business.

Mariah’s feeling of ennui had fled, her nerves tingling with excitement. What would Andrew have to say to her? A few months ago she had thought he was on the verge of making her an offer, then he had seemed to draw back. What had she done to make him change his mind? Could she have mistaken the signs? So many men went out of their way to flatter and court her, but Andrew Lanchester was different. She had hoped for a time that he had come to admire and appreciate her for what she was—a woman of spirit with a mind of her own.

Entering the salon where the company was gathered, she saw Sylvia and Lord Hubert laughing at something their visitor had just said and her heart caught. When Andrew Lanchester was smiling he was such a handsome man, his dark hair and his expressive eyes giving him an air of distinction. He was a man of integrity, a little stern at times, but good company. As Andrew turned to look at her she drew a deep breath, feeling slightly shaky.

‘Lady Fanshawe—Mariah,’ he said, coming towards her, his hand outstretched. ‘How are you? I trust your tour of Italy has improved your health?’

Mariah laughed. ‘I was not ill, Andrew,’ she said, giving him a challenging look. He had not been so formal when she stayed at his home the previous year. ‘I am not such a goose that a little thing like abduction would cause me to go into a decline. No, no, I needed a change, that is all—and my good friends look after me very well.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ Andrew said, but a frown creased his brow. ‘Jane and Lucinda send their love. I have some letters for you—one from Justin concerning some business, I believe. He did not wish to entrust it to the post and so gave it to me.’

‘Thank you for giving up your time to bring it to me.’ Mariah said, keeping her emotions under strict control. ‘I believe Jane is to be congratulated? Her letter reached us after much delay. I should have liked to see her married, but had no idea of her intention before we left. I shall visit her when we return to England—and I must buy her a gift.’

‘I am sure she will be pleased to see you,’ Andrew said. ‘How are you enjoying your visit? I know this is not the first time you have visited Italy—but have you been to the lakes before?’

‘Winston brought me here on our honeymoon,’ Mariah said, her throat catching. ‘We spent most of our time visiting the lakes and then Venice. It was after we left Venice to return to Milan that Winston’s illness worsened. That was the first time I realised that my husband would not live long.’

Mariah’s voice was husky with remembered grief. The knowledge that her kind and loving husband would soon die had almost broken her. It was only then that she understood how much she truly loved her husband. She had wed him out of pique—after Justin Avonlea had proposed to her from a sense of duty—and the desire to be spoiled, to be rich and indulged, admired and envied wherever she went. However, his care of her and his generous spirit had made her love him and she had been devastated by the thought of losing him.

‘My husband did not wish to return to England to die. He loved the sunshine and it made him happy to spend his last days here.’

‘I did not realise that,’ Andrew said, his gaze narrowed.

‘I do not normally speak of that time because it upsets me.’

Mariah turned away, blinking back the foolish tears that had unaccountably come to her eyes. Surely she was over her husband’s death by now, so what had brought this mood on? Was it seeing Andrew again after having given up all hope of him?

Her silence had caused a moment of awkwardness, swiftly covered by Sylvia. ‘It is so pleasant to see acquaintances from home,’ she said. ‘I do hope you will dine with us this evening, Lord Lanchester. I am giving a little dinner party for friends and would be delighted if you could join us.’

‘I should be honoured to make one of your party,’ Andrew said. ‘Mariah, I have some messages from Lucinda. She was quite close to her confinement when I left England. Would you give me a few minutes of your time—perhaps a walk in the gardens?’

‘Yes, why not?’ Mariah took the arm he offered, smiling as she bid her heart to behave. ‘I should like to hear how she goes on. Had she not been in a delicate situation when we left, I think she would have liked to accompany us to Italy.’

‘I am perfectly certain she would,’ Andrew replied, drawing her out into the garden. ‘She spoke of visiting you if you were still here next spring. The babe will be old enough to travel with her nurse by then.’

‘Poor Andrew,’ Mariah said softly. ‘I think you like Lucinda very well, do you not?’

‘I am fond of them both. Justin is a good friend,’ Andrew said and hesitated, then, ‘But tell me, Mariah, are you truly over that unpleasant business of last year?’

‘It does not keep me awake at night,’ she replied. ‘I must accept that my fortune attracts the wrong sort of suitor, Andrew. I had hoped that I might receive an offer from a gentleman I could trust, but unfortunately I have not met anyone I think would make me a comfortable husband.’

‘You will not want a gambler, of course,’ Andrew said and looked thoughtful. ‘What are your requirements?’

‘Oh, someone with good manners, a man I can respect and rely on to care for me and any children we may have.’

‘That is a very modest list.’ Andrew arched his right brow. ‘I would have expected more—a sense of humour at the very least, good looks and a fortune to match your own.’

‘I think it would be foolish to set my standards too high. I might have sought love once, but now I think I would settle for liking and respect. What I do not want is a man who thinks only of my fortune.’

‘I see …’ He was silent, thoughtful, then, ‘Would you like me to investigate some of your suitors—discover whether or not they are desperate for money or perhaps more respectable than you might imagine?’

‘Would you?’ Mariah avoided his eyes. If she revealed too much, she might give herself away and that might lead to humiliation. ‘If you were to escort me while you stay here, Andrew, it might scare the fortune hunters away.’ She braced herself, turning to smile at him. ‘Now tell me what Lucinda had to say that she did not write in her letters …’

After the visitors had gone, Mariah draped a stole over her arms and went for a walk to the top of the hill. Sylvia had chattered on about the visitors until she was driven by the need to be alone for a short time.

Her emotions were at breaking point, and she was torn by a mixture of despair and anger.

How could Andrew be so blind? To offer to vet her suitors for her was so frustrating that it had taken all Mariah’s strength of will not to scream at him.

As a young girl living at Avonlea, Mariah had had a crush on their handsome neighbour, but Andrew hadn’t noticed her. His manner had been that of a brother and he had treated her either with indifference or with a lofty scorn that had often driven her to tears in those years of growing into a young woman. He’d gone to London on a visit and come back a different man; then, all of a sudden, she’d learned that he’d joined the army. His leaving had broken her heart, but Mariah had forgotten him as the years passed and she grew into a beautiful young woman with a string of admirers and friends—but somehow she hadn’t fallen in love with anyone.

‘Oh, damn it,’ Mariah said aloud. ‘Winston, why did you have to leave me?’ She was so alone and at times felt desperate. Must she live like this for the rest of her life, relying on friends for company, never having someone special of her own?

She turned away from the edge of the cliff and began to walk blindly through the woods, holding back her tears. She was angry with life and with herself for not having more sense and saw nothing until she heard an exclamation of alarm and then a pair of strong hands reached out and grabbed her arm.

‘Forgive me,’ an English voice said. ‘If you continue to walk in that direction, you may fall over the edge. There is a steep trail just beyond those trees and at one place there has been a recent fall of rock. It ought to be fenced off to save the unwary from accident.’

‘Oh … thank you,’ Mariah said and looked into the face of a man she could only describe as handsome in a dark, rather forbidding way. ‘Forgive me. I almost walked into you. My mind was wandering.’

‘I am glad to have been of service,’ he said and inclined his head to her. ‘My name is Peter Grainger—Lieutenant Grainger—and I have recently arrived in the district. My aunt and uncle have rented a villa at the other side of the lake and I was out on a walk when I discovered the fall. Are you staying near by, ma’am? Forgive me, I do not know your name.’

‘Mariah Fanshawe,’ she replied, a faint blush in her cheeks as she saw how intently he was staring at her. ‘I am staying with Lord and Lady Hubert—we are farther down the hill, nearer the lake. I walked up here to enjoy the view, but I am a little out of my way. Your warning was timely, sir.’

The man tipped his hat to her. ‘It was nothing really. So, do you stay long, Miss Fanshawe?’

‘I am Lady Fanshawe and a widow,’ Mariah replied. Something in his manner made her slightly uncomfortable, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about him that aroused her suspicions. ‘We have not yet decided how long we shall stay.’

‘Forgive me, I did not realise.’ His eyes went over her, seeming to note that she was wearing a gown of white muslin trimmed with pink, her shoes white leather and her gloves white cotton, edged at the wrists with the same pink that trimmed her gown and was repeated in her stole. Regrettably she wore no hat, having ignored Sylvia’s advice to put one on before she left. ‘Perhaps we shall meet again, Lady Fanshawe.’ He tipped his hat and turned away.

Mariah stared after him for a moment, biting her lip. She was so foolish. He had been perfectly respectable and she had offended him by her brusque tone. He could not have known she was entitled to the use of a title. Besides, she did not normally remind people of it. What was the matter with her? Did she think of herself as so worthless that every man must be a fortune hunter if they showed an interest?

Turning in the direction of the Huberts’ villa, she walked quickly, blinking away the stupid tears. Was it too much to want to be loved for herself? What must a man do to convince her that he was uninterested in her late husband’s fortune?

She had become suspicious of everyone and that was wrong. Wrong and foolish! Mariah must learn to trust again. If she wished to find happiness in marriage, she must give gentlemen the chance to win her trust rather than treating them all with the same level of suspicion.

If only Andrew Lanchester had shown some interest in her. Mariah was almost sure she was in love with him. He was the kind of strong, silent man that appealed to her nature—the kind of man who might succeed in keeping her interest above a few weeks. With a little encouragement she could have given him her heart, her person and her fortune—but after seeming to approve of her, he had withdrawn again and she did not know why. He was a friend, but it seemed he had no warmer feelings for her.

Shaking her head, she walked quickly towards the villa. There was no point on dwelling on the past. She had come to the conclusion that she needed a husband. If it was not to be Andrew Lanchester, then it must be someone else.

Next time she met an attractive man she would smile and keep an open mind. If she continued to refuse all offers, she would end a lonely old maid.

‘Lanchester …’ Andrew heard himself hailed as he left the inn at which he had chosen to stay for a few days while visiting the lakes. He stopped and frowned as he sought for recognition, then smiled at the younger man. ‘What do you here, sir?’

‘I am visiting a friend,’ Andrew replied. ‘I had some business in Naples, which came to naught, and took a detour to visit a place of outstanding beauty. Are you here alone?’

‘No, with my aunt and uncle. I heard you had resigned your commission. I hope there is nothing amiss?’

‘Why do you ask?’ Andrew frowned, then recollected his manners. Lieutenant Grainger was not his enemy. They had been friends of a sort, though the younger man was his junior. ‘Yes, I decided that the time had come to settle down and look after my estate. I heard you might be up for promotion?’

‘It was on the cards, but I may also be leaving the service soon. My uncle suffered a severe illness some months ago and needs to spend more time in the sun. My aunt asked me to help them get settled out here—and, as they have no other heir, her husband wishes me to take up residence at their estate in England and assume the running of the place.’

‘Shall you oblige them?’

‘Yes, I think so. Where are you staying?’

‘Here at the inn.’

‘That won’t do, Lanchester. We have plenty of room at the villa. I know I speak for my aunt when I say we should be happy for you to join us. Come and have dinner with us this evening. If you should care for it, you could stay with us for a few days. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind your advice about a few things …’

‘I am unable to dine this evening,’ Andrew said. ‘But if I can be of any help I shall be delighted to give whatever advice or practical assistance I may.’

‘I am glad I ran into you, Lanchester. My aunt will be delighted to meet you. She is feeling a little lost, anxious about finding the right place. They have rented a villa, but may also need something in Milan. My understanding of the language is not as good as I would like.’

‘Then I may be able to help,’ Andrew said. ‘I shall come back with you now and we may talk …’

Andrew was thoughtful as he matched his steps with the lieutenant’s. His meeting with Mariah that morning had been less promising than he’d hoped. It had been in his mind to tell her about his problem, because he was aware that at one time she might have been justified in believing he was considering making her an offer. If he told her that he could not think of marriage until he had cleared his name of this shadow of doubt, she might understand why he had let her down.

Mariah was beautiful, intelligent and wealthy. How could he expect that a woman like that would be prepared to sit around twiddling her thumbs while he floundered about trying to discover an enemy—an enemy who might or might not be Lieutenant William Gordon? The answer was that of course he could not expect it. Mariah had made it clear that she wanted to marry soon.

Even if he were free of the stain on his character, was she the woman he wanted above all others? At times he was so certain that his inability to speak almost choked him with frustration, but at others … at others he was not quite as sure. Mariah needed a husband—but would any man do? She’d married once for money and her husband had spoiled her. Would she expect to be indulged and given her own way again? Was that quite what Andrew wanted from a wife?

Dismissing his confused thoughts, Andrew turned his attention to his companion. Peter Grainger was a fellow officer. It was just possible that he might know where William Gordon was to be found, though he must be careful how he put it. Until he was certain who was behind this business, he must make no accusations.

Chapter Two

‘That rose silk becomes you so well, dearest,’ Sylvia said as they prepared to go down and welcome their guests that evening. ‘I am so glad that you have decided to wear colours again.’

‘As you have told me many times, Winston would not wish me to mourn him for ever,’ Mariah said and smiled at her. Sylvia was a pretty, diminutive lady with a charming smile and good manners, and sincere in her affections. ‘I have decided to put the past behind me, Sylvia. I shall cease to look at every gentleman I meet with suspicion and enjoy being courted. I do not wish to live alone for the rest of my life and I cannot always be in the company of friends. It is my intention to marry soon.’

‘As to that, you know you are welcome to live with us, Mariah.’

‘You are so generous. Andrew told me that Lucinda has said much the same. She wants me to consider returning to Avonlea when I’ve had enough of Italy—though how anyone could ever be tired of such a glorious place I do not know.’

‘I do so agree with you,’ Sylvia said, looking fondly at her. ‘If Hubert had no estates to worry him I should prevail on him to stay for another six months at the very least. However, two months more is as long as he can spare and so we shall have to leave in a few weeks so that the journey home is achieved in easy stages.’

‘Yes, I know. Besides, there are pleasures to be had at home,’ Mariah said. ‘Winston has a beautiful country house. I have no desire to live there and shall probably let it to tenants, but they must of course be the right tenants. I think I would prefer to live in London with visits to Bath, Avonlea—and, of course, Italy, whenever I can prevail on someone to bear me company.’

‘I would not turn down the chance another year. We could always travel with friends if Hubert could not find the time to accompany us,’ Sylvia said. ‘But you may be married by then, dearest. Your husband will wish to travel with you no doubt.’

‘Perhaps …’ Mariah looked wistful. ‘Andrew kindly offered to vet my suitors for me. I think I shall accept his help. I have made up my mind that I would be more comfortable married to a decent man. I wanted to fall in love—but perhaps I should settle for a comfortable arrangement.’

‘Would you not regret it?’ Sylvia raised her brows. ‘Surely you are young enough to hope for a little romance in your marriage this time?’

‘I think Winston was the most romantic man I’ve ever met,’ Mariah said and laughed as she saw her friend’s surprise. ‘No, truly he was. Everyone saw the age difference between us and believed the worst—but he was so gallant and so loving to me. He kissed my hand every morning. Every night I found either a rose or a flower of some kind on my pillow. Even when he was ill he had the gardener bring in a perfect bloom to place in my room for him.’

Sylvia blinked hard. ‘You bring tears to my eyes, my love. Of course I knew that Winston adored you but I did not realise that he was such a sweet man. It is little wonder that you hesitate to marry for a second time. I do not think it will be easy to find a man like Winston again.’

‘No, I think I shall not,’ Mariah agreed. ‘But perhaps I should seek someone rather different this time. I was utterly spoiled in my first marriage, but I am older and wiser now. It is time for me to grow up, to move on.’

‘I do not think you could do better than Lord Lanchester himself,’ Sylvia said. ‘He is handsome, respected and has no need of your fortune—besides, I think he likes you, my love.’

‘Yes, I think he likes me,’ Mariah agreed and sighed. She might never find such devotion as she had from Winston again, but she was so tired of being a widow. ‘However, Lord Lanchester shows no sign of making me an offer. I did think at one time—but he did not speak and I think I lost my chance. Something must have made him decide that I was not the wife he wanted, though he is still concerned for my safety and well-being.’

‘Perhaps the right moment has not yet presented itself,’ Sylvia suggested. ‘Be patient, Mariah. He may speak when he is ready.’

‘I fear patience is not my best virtue.’ Mariah laughed at herself, for she knew her own faults. ‘Once I make up my mind to something, I must act—and I have decided that I need a husband, or the promise of one, before we return to England.’

‘Think carefully, my love,’ her friend advised. ‘If you marry in haste, you may regret it.’

‘I have been a widow for nearly two years,’ Mariah said. ‘I have thought of contenting myself with affairs, but I think it would suit me better to be married.’

Seeing she had shocked her friend, Mariah laughed again and took her arm.

‘No, really, dearest, it would not be so very terrible, would it?’

‘Well … if one were discreet.’ Sylvia shook her head. ‘You have been married … I know you are teasing me—but Hubert would be most shocked if he heard you. You might lose all chance of a decent marriage, my dear.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Mariah said, slightly impatient, for she thought her friend’s husband a little pompous at times. ‘But I am so tired of sleeping alone… . I want to be courted for myself, loved.’

What would Sylvia think if she knew that her marriage had remained unconsummated? That she was, in fact, still a virgin? It was something she could never tell anyone, even her best friends.

A little later that evening Mariah stood by the open windows of the salon looking out at the night. The sky was velvet dark with only a faint light from the moon, which was half-hidden by clouds, but the air was much cooler after the heat of the day. She was tempted to walk in the gardens, but if she did, someone was sure to follow—and she could not be sure the right man would join her.

‘Mariah, my dear, I want you to meet some friends of Hubert’s,’ Sylvia said, causing her to turn round and look at the newcomers. With a little shock she recognised the man who had saved her from a fall earlier that day. ‘This is Sir Harold Jenkins, Lady Jenkins—and their nephew, Lieutenant Grainger.’

‘What a surprise to see you again, Lieutenant,’ Mariah said, extending her hand with a smile. ‘Good evening, Sir Harold, Lady Jenkins, I am pleased to meet you.’

‘Good evening, Lady Fanshawe,’ Lieutenant Grainger replied and kissed her hand, looking into her eyes with such warmth a moment later that Mariah was surprised. ‘I am so pleased to meet you again.’

‘You met earlier? You did not tell us,’ Lady Jenkins said archly, throwing her nephew a fond look.

‘I met Lady Fanshawe walking towards the spot where a rock fall had taken place and was able to warn her that it was dangerous to go farther in that direction. I have since spoken to the authorities and they assured me a fence would be put in place immediately.’

‘Ah, that is just like you, Peter,’ Lady Jenkins said and looked directly at Mariah. ‘My nephew is such a correct young man, Lady Fanshawe. Many would simply ignore something of that nature—but Peter always thinks of others.’

‘You are too partial, Aunt.’ Peter Grainger looked slightly embarrassed. ‘You must forgive her, Lady Fanshawe. I assure you that I did only what anyone would have done in the circumstances.’

‘I am sure that many would not,’ Mariah said. ‘Tell me, sir—how do you like Lake Como? Do you prefer it to Lake Garda?’

‘I think all the lakes have their merits—but I believe the situation of Como makes it most agreeable to those who prefer a little more tranquillity. There are more visitors—or it seems there are more at Garda.’

‘Yes, that was my feeling also,’ Mariah said, warming to him. He seemed a sensible man. She had no doubt that his aunt was aware of her fortune, but Lieutenant Grainger did not seem overly anxious to impress her. Indeed, he had taken himself off at once after she’d revealed her status to him earlier that day and she was inclined to think he was in no particular need of her fortune. ‘I think we have time for a turn in the garden before dinner, sir. Would you care to oblige me?’

He looked a little startled, as if her boldness had surprised him, but immediately offered his arm. ‘A little air on the terrace would be perfect. I believe Count Paolo’s gardens are reputed to be very fine?’

‘Yes, indeed they are. We are fortunate that he allows us to stay here.’

Andrew watched with narrowed eyes as the pair disappeared out through the open doors onto the terrace. They stood talking in full view of the room so there was nothing particularly clandestine or intimate about their behaviour, but he found the sight oddly disturbing. Mariah had promised to take his advice in the matter of a husband; he did not think that Grainger was wholly suitable, but, as yet, he had not managed to think of anyone he could recommend to her wholeheartedly.

Watching her, he was aware of how lovely she was, the perfection of her figure and the enchanting way she held her head to one side when she teased or laughed at one. She was, he thought, a beautiful, sensual woman and his pulses quickened at the sight of her looking up at her companion. Something must be done. She was too vulnerable to unscrupulous rogues, though he had no real reason to think of Grainger as a rogue.

‘Are you well acquainted with Lieutenant Grainger?’ his host asked. ‘Lady Fanshawe seems on good terms with him. She looks happier than she has for a while.’

‘I was not aware that she knew him,’ Andrew said. ‘I had not seen him for years, though I remember that his regiment joined ours in Spain. He was a new recruit then …’ He turned to look at Lord Hubert. ‘Do you know him at all?’

‘We have met once or twice. I am not well acquainted with him.’

‘I am in similar case myself, though we had mutual friends in Spain.’

‘I know his aunt and uncle,’ Lord Hubert continued. ‘Very good sort of people. Sylvia likes them—and I usually like my wife’s friends. I dare say we shall see quite a bit of them while we are here. If Grainger and Mariah were to take to one another, it would be the very thing.’

Andrew scarcely heard him. He had found the younger man pleasant enough company earlier in the day, but now his hackles rose as he went out of the open doors and heard Mariah laugh. It seemed an age since he’d heard her laugh in just that way—and, looking at her standing there in the moonlight with the young lieutenant, he was struck once more by her beauty. She was a fine, spirited woman, perhaps a little reckless at times. Her restless nature would lead her astray without a strong hand to guide her.

Mariah became aware of Andrew as he reached them. She turned her head, a smile on her lips. ‘Andrew, how are you? Lieutenant Grainger was telling me about a visit that the Regent paid to his regiment, when they were stationed in Brighton.’

‘Indeed?’ Andrew looked down his patrician nose. ‘Prinny enjoys playing soldiers. I dare say you made him an honorary colonel or something of the kind, did you not?’

Lieutenant Grainger stared at him doubtfully. ‘I believe he is our Colonel in Chief. He seems knowledgeable enough.’

‘In his way, perhaps,’ Andrew said. ‘I have been meaning to ask you, Grainger. Would you happen to know the whereabouts of Lieutenant William Gordon?’

‘Forgive me. I’m not perfectly certain whom you mean?’ The younger man seemed hesitant, a little uneasy, then, ‘There was a lieutenant of that name with us in Spain, I believe, but I thought he resigned his commission after being reprimanded a few times … but why you should think I might know him is beyond me. I was not acquainted with him.’

‘Then you will have no idea where he is now? I was hoping to find him in Naples, but it came to nothing. For the time being, I must continue my search.’ He glanced towards the room behind them, which was now brightly lit. ‘I think Lady Hubert is looking for us, Mariah. I dare say dinner is ready—and she may wish to close these doors. The insects will invade the house now that the candles have been lit.’

‘Yes, we must go in,’ Mariah said and arched her right eyebrow at Andrew. ‘I believe you are to sit on my right hand this evening, Lord Lanchester.’

Lieutenant Grainger had gone in just ahead of them. Mariah grabbed Andrew’s arm, lowering her voice to a whisper.

‘Why did Lieutenant Grainger look at you so oddly when you mentioned that officer—Lieutenant Gordon?’

‘I have no idea,’ Andrew replied. ‘I should not have mentioned Gordon in his hearing had I known it would upset him.’

‘There is a mystery. I know it.’ Mariah’s eyes mocked him. His secrecy had set her on her mettle for he knew that she liked a challenge. ‘I shall get it out of you, Andrew—just see if I don’t.’

He smiled and shook his head. She had seemed low in spirits that morning, but now she was the old Mariah. At times she aroused his protective instincts and he was inclined to throw caution to the winds and snap her up as his wife before someone else did, but then, when she was in a teasing mood, he wondered if they would not be at each other’s throats in a fortnight. As a girl she had been very provoking, a nuisance, following a fellow about and wanting attention when he had better things to do. Mind you, when he thought of it, she had always been ready to go fishing or to play the fielder in ball games. A boisterous, bold girl whose reckless behaviour had landed them all in trouble more than once, for what was a chap to do but take the blame when Farmer Johnson’s bull had got in amongst the young heifers when Mariah left the gate open.

He could not contemplate the idea of her married to a rascal, but marriage was a big commitment. Andrew knew that once he made it he would not stray; it would be a union for life and he must therefore be sure of his feelings before making an offer to any woman.

Besides, there was still the faint cloud of suspicion hanging over him. Unless he could prove his innocence to his commanding officer, he might be formally charged with the theft. Someone had taken the silver while he was the duty officer in charge of such things. He had not been expected to actually guard the valuable treasures, which lived in a locked cabinet in a locked room, but that it should happen on his watch was bad enough. The letter pointing the finger at him was an added complication and one that had given him many uneasy moments.

Major Henderson had suggested that his enemy might be Lieutenant Gordon, but there was no proof that he had even been in England at the time. Besides, why wait all this time to strike against Andrew? It did not make sense to his way of thinking.

‘Something is worrying you,’ Mariah said as they entered the dining room. ‘Won’t you tell me, Andrew? I promise not to plague you if it is important. I am not an unruly girl now. I can be sensible, you know.’

‘Yes, of course you can,’ he said, wrenching his thoughts away from his problem. He caught the smell of her soft perfume and felt desire stir in his loins. In that moment he wanted her badly. She was a beautiful woman and intriguing. If he could simply bed her and make her his mistress there would be no problem as far as she was concerned, but that was impossible. She was a lady and deserved his respect. ‘I think you like Lieutenant Grainger. I have no reason to think him other than he seems—but be careful, Mariah. For your own sake, trust only those you truly know.’

‘Very well.’ Mariah looked into his eyes. ‘I have reason to be grateful to him—he prevented me from coming upon a rock fall earlier today and warned me to change direction. However, I am sure that caution is best. You shall advise me.’

Alone in her room later that evening, Mariah let her various conversations with Andrew drift through her mind as she prepared for bed. He had talked animatedly of their friends at home and of the beautiful scenery. Of Lieutenant Grainger he had not spoken one word after his warning to her.

She puzzled over his reticence. Lieutenant Grainger had seemed embarrassed when a certain officer had been mentioned. Why had Andrew introduced the subject of the other officer and why should it make the younger man uncomfortable?

Andrew had followed them outside deliberately. Why had he done that? Was it to protect her from a man he was not certain of or … surely he could not be jealous because Mariah had been enjoying his company?

What had brought Andrew to Italy—and what was bothering him? She was certain that he was very worried about something, but did not know what it might be. Could he possibly have financial troubles? Was that why he had come—to ask her to marry him, because he needed money?

The thought made her blood run cold. No, she would not allow herself to think ill of him. He was her friend. He had promised to help her find a suitable husband. She had given him a list of her requirements in a husband and stressed that she did not wish to marry a fortune hunter.

If he wanted her for himself, he would surely give her a sign. Even if she acquitted him of wanting her fortune, which she had immediately, she had to admit that he showed no sign of being madly in love with her. A little voice in her head told her that Andrew might well make a convenient marriage with a suitable lady for the sake of an heir. Many gentlemen in his position did so. Would he consider her suitable—or would he think her too flighty, not serious enough?

Or was there another reason entirely for his reticence? Was Andrew hiding something he did not wish even his friends to know?

Mariah sighed as she slid between cool linen sheets and settled into a soft feather mattress. She loved uncovering secrets and a mystery to solve was a pleasant way to spend her days—and it would stop her wondering why Andrew had not come to the point. Sometimes he looked at her as if he might gobble her up, as if he wanted nothing more than to get her into his bed, but at others he was polite, cool and reserved.

Just what had she done that had made him hesitate? Perhaps it was because she’d shot the man who had been trying to kill Lucinda. Being a crack shot and keeping a cool head in a crisis were perhaps not the most feminine of traits. Men often wanted a sweet docile woman they could protect and dominate. Mariah was too spirited, too bold. Andrew had been attentive to her when she was recovering from her ordeal at the hands of kidnappers, but then, quite suddenly, he had drawn back. She must have done something to make him think her unsuitable—but what?

Thumping her pillow in sudden pique, Mariah felt both frustration and disappointment. She was almost certain that Andrew was the only man she could truly love and she longed to be taken in his arms and kissed until she melted for pleasure, but all he offered was friendship. She might have taken a dozen lovers had she wished or accepted as many offers of marriage. Why must she want the only man who seemed utterly indifferent to her charms? ‘You provoking man,’ Mariah muttered, blew out the candle and closed her eyes.

Mariah was not the only one to lie sleepless for some time after extinguishing the light. Andrew frowned as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his head filled with thoughts of Mariah. He knew that she was tired of being a widow. He had over the years seen her flirt many times. She was entitled to flirt with as many admirers as she pleased. Rich, unattached and as intelligent as she was beautiful, he imagined she was pursued wherever she went. The mystery was that she remained single. She must have had many offers of marriage and many others of a more dubious nature. As far as he knew she remained aloof—why? What kept her from indulging in love affairs? Was she still faithful to her husband’s memory?

She was too young and lovely to remain a widow all her life and he knew it was not her intention. She had asked his advice because she wished for a husband who would treat her as she deserved. In his heart Andrew knew that if he did not speak soon he would lose her.

Yet how could he speak when he did not know who his enemy was? Thus far he had been accused of theft, but Harrison had done nothing. If someone felt bitter hatred for Andrew, they were hardly likely to stop there. His very life might be in danger. It would be wrong to involve a lovely young woman in his life at the moment—however much he wanted to kiss and touch her.

He had experienced jealousy on seeing her laughing with Grainger that evening. Was he a fool to hold his silence? She was beautiful, well connected and charming—what more could he want from a wife?

Remembering how soft and moist her lips had looked, he felt an urgent desire to feel them beneath his, to crush her soft body to his and … This was ridiculous!

Groaning at his frustrated thoughts, Andrew threw back the covers and got out of bed, going to the window to look out. He had accepted Lady Jenkins’s invitation and removed his baggage here earlier in the day, though in view of his feelings that evening he was beginning to regret the decision. The inn might not be as comfortable as this room, but he had been well enough.

The moon was high overhead, shedding a bright silver light over the gardens. Something caught his eye in the shrubbery—a flash of white. A man’s shirt, perhaps? Whoever it was seemed to be hiding … watching the house. Was there someone out there skulking in the bushes?

If some rogue was hoping to break in and steal valuables, he was going to be in for a shock. His instincts alerted to danger, Andrew dressed quickly. This needed investigation.

He left through a window at the back of the villa and made his way round to the front gardens, keeping close to the wall and in deep shadow. He was alert, his finger on the trigger of his concealed pistol, but even after his years of training in the army, he was not aware of the man behind him until the last moment. Someone lunged at him as he turned and grabbed for his arm. They struggled for a few moments and Andrew’s pistol fired into the air. The next moment he heard a shout from the house and the door opened.

‘Andrew—are you out there?’

Hearing Grainger’s voice, the assailant suddenly shoved Andrew backwards, causing him to stumble and fall. Before he was on his feet again the shadow had run off, disappearing into the darkness. Andrew fired another shot in the direction he’d gone, hoping to scare him. He heard a faint curse and then nothing more.

‘I’m over here, Grainger,’ he called. ‘There was someone lurking in the bushes. I came out to investigate and we fought. My pistol went off—unfortunately, it was pointing in the air and not at him. I may have winged him with the second shot, though.’

Grainger was dressed in breeches and shirt and had clearly not been to bed. He had a pistol in his hand as he came to join Andrew.

‘It may be just as well,’ he said. ‘If you’d killed him, we should have had trouble with the authorities. Did you catch a sight of his face? Could you identify him?’

‘No, I caught a glimpse of him, nothing more. He was acting in a furtive manner and I feared someone might be trying to break in and rob us while we slept.’

‘You were not sleeping?’

‘No. I had something on my mind.’

‘Does it concern Lieutenant Gordon?’

‘It might. Why do you ask?’

Grainger hesitated, then, ‘I wasn’t quite truthful earlier. At one time I was on terms with him, but then I realised that he was a rogue—and a thief. I caught him stealing from a fellow officer’s kit.’

‘You did not report him?’

‘No …’ Grainger looked uncomfortable. ‘I ought to have done so—but he was supposed to be courting a young lady I know. She is my cousin on my father’s side. Gordon had asked her to marry him and she had promised she would when she was eighteen. If I’d accused him of being a thief, it would have broken Thelma’s heart.’

‘She must have suffered when he left the army and disappeared?’

‘Yes, she went into a decline. For a time we thought she might die, but thankfully, she is recovering at last. My aunt told me she is thinking of marriage to a decent man this time.’

‘I am glad to hear it. So, you have no idea where Gordon is now then?’

‘If I had, I should find him and thrash him.’ Grainger frowned, but his eyes did not quite meet Andrew’s. He had a feeling that he had not been told the whole story. ‘Did you come out here to find him? Is that why you are here?’

‘It was one of my reasons for coming out.’

‘The other … Forgive me, was the other reason Lady Fanshawe?’

‘Why do you ask?’

Grainger shook his head. ‘She is beautiful, but I hardly know her. I dare say she would not look at me.’

Andrew would have answered him, but at that moment Lady Jenkins called to them from the house.

‘The shots must have wakened your aunt. Go and reassure her, Grainger. I shall take another walk about the grounds, make certain there is no one lurking. We shall continue our conversation another time.’

Andrew frowned as Grainger went off to soothe his aunt’s fears. It was clear to him that the young officer liked Mariah. As yet it was no more than that, but it might become more in time. As far as Andrew knew, Grainger would be a good match for her. His background was adequate and he had prospects. He did not have to marry money because his aunt and uncle were very wealthy and had already named him as their heir. Mariah could do worse than marry Grainger.

‘A picnic,’ Sylvia said the next morning when Mariah entered the salon. ‘Lady Jenkins has invited us for tomorrow afternoon. She has arranged it on the lake shore and there will be boats to take us out on the lake should we wish it.’

‘That sounds pleasant,’ Mariah said. ‘I believe I should like to go out on the lake. It is cooler and the weather has been very warm of late.’

‘Yes, it has …’ Sylvia looked at her, noticing faint shadows beneath her eyes. ‘Has it been keeping you awake? If so, I can arrange for a net over your bed so that you may have the window open.’

‘No, I do not think the heat kept me awake,’ Mariah told her. ‘I slept later, but I must admit I was restless for a time.’

‘Were you thinking of Lord Lanchester?’

‘Yes, for a while.’ Mariah laughed. ‘Is it not foolish of me? I do not think he has any intention of asking me to marry him, therefore I must look elsewhere if I am to find a husband before we leave Italy.’

‘You are not serious in your intention?’

‘Why not? I may have met a gentleman I rather like.’

Sylvia questioned her with her eyes. In her early thirties, she was a pretty woman, good-natured and much loved by her doting husband. The fact that she had not as yet given him an heir seemed not to bother him one bit, though Mariah suspected it was a source of some distress to her friend.

‘I must suppose you to mean Lieutenant Grainger? He certainly has prospects, Mariah—if you care about such things.’

‘Money is immaterial. I have far more than I need.’

‘Can one ever have too much?’ Sylvia asked and laughed.

‘No, but I have enough. I want something more from my marriage—excitement, laughter, respect and children.’

Sylvia frowned. ‘And love? You say nothing of it, but I suspect it means more to you than you will admit? Did the lieutenant give you reason to hope?’

‘He was polite, friendly, but not overly attentive. I think his aunt would like him to make a push for my notice. She knows of my fortune and thinks me an excellent catch for her nephew, but he is more circumspect in his approach. He has given me no sign as yet. I do not think him a fortune hunter—which counts in his favour.’

Sylvia shook her head as she saw the speculative look in Mariah’s eyes. ‘I believe you are serious. You will really accept a proposal of marriage from him if he asks?’

‘I might,’ Mariah replied innocently, then gurgled with laughter. ‘Or I might decide that an affair would suit me better. I am not sure whether he would suit me as a lover …’ She tipped her head to one side, a sparkle in her eyes. ‘It would be exciting to have an affair, do you not think so?’

‘Now I know you are misbehaving,’ her friend said with a shake of her head. ‘You do so love to tease, dearest. I know you too well to believe you serious, but others might not. Be a little careful, Mariah. I should not like to see you hurt.’

‘As yet I have met no one who is anxious to engage me in a clandestine affair,’ Maria admitted ruefully. ‘Most seem interested in getting a ring on my finger for the sake of controlling Winston’s fortune.’

‘Well, your unpleasant experience has given you a terrible shock,’ Sylvia sympathised, ‘but you must not think everyone the same. If you were to receive a proposal from someone you could like sufficiently, it might be the best thing for you. After all, business is a chore—why not leave it to a man you may trust? He would, of course, secure a generous settlement on you.’

‘Yes, I believe marriage might suit me best,’ Mariah conceded and turned away for fear her friend should see too much.

It was time she lost her virginity. Mariah had made up her mind that she would either marry or take a lover. Sylvia had been shocked, but many married ladies had clandestine affairs—why shouldn’t she? At least she would not wake up one day to discover that her husband cared nothing for her and had run through her fortune at the card table.

That would be humiliating and something that she did not think she could accept. Rather an affair with a man who admired and excited her that she could end when she chose than marriage with a man who wanted only her money. Yet she was tired of living alone. She could not always be in the company of friends and there were many lonely hours, often in the dark reaches of the night when she could not sleep and longed for someone she could talk to as a friend.

Andrew Lanchester would never treat her so badly. Were he to offer for her she would marry him, even if he was not madly in love with her. He would be honest, generous and considerate. All the qualities she needed. The provoking man! Why could he not oblige her?

What she truly needed was for Andrew to care for her. She might think of marrying others in an idle moment, but in her heart there was only one she wanted.

Why would he not tell her he cared and ask her to marry him?

Chapter Three

It was yet another perfect day by the lake. In the warm sunshine the water looked impossibly blue and at times the sunbeams seemed to dance on the surface like a shower of diamonds. Mariah looked around her. Theirs was not the only party to take advantage of the coolness to be found by the lakeside and several ladies and gentlemen strolled arm in arm. Out on the lake itself there were various kinds of small boats: some being rowed by eager amateurs, as well as those plied by professionals eager for trade.

‘My nephew was so distressed to miss the picnic,’ Lady Jenkins said, taking a seat next to Mariah. ‘He met with an accident while out walking this morning and was obliged to visit the doctor.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’ Mariah looked at her in genuine concern. ‘Did Lieutenant Grainger suffer a fall?’

‘That is the most distressing thing about the whole affair,’ Lady Jenkins said, lowering her voice. ‘He begged me not to make a fuss. I was all for sending for the authorities, but he would not have it.’

‘I fear I do not understand your meaning?’ Mariah arched her fine brows.

‘It is quite shocking. Peter was set upon by ruffians, my dear. He says there must have been two of them for they knocked him to the ground and kicked him. He fought back and they ran off, but he has suffered some injuries and was feeling unwell when we left him this morning.’

‘Oh, what a shame,’ Mariah said with ready sympathy. ‘That is a great deal too bad. In the isolation of the hills one has to take care, for there may occasionally be bandits who will attack an unwary traveller, but here at the lakes—I have not heard of such a thing before.’

‘It has made me uneasy,’ Lady Jenkins agreed. ‘I have almost decided to cut short our visit here and move on to Venice.’

‘That would be a pity,’ Mariah said. ‘Though Venice is beautiful, of course, but … perhaps it might be best to speak to the authorities. If there are thieves in the area, they ought to be apprehended.’

‘It is most odd. Peter says he was not robbed, simply knocked to the ground, beaten—and then abandoned.’

‘How very strange.’

‘Yes, I thought so. One would almost suppose him to have an enemy, but he will not hear of it—and he would not wish me to speak of the affair, but I wanted you to know why he had cried off. I know he was looking forward to seeing you again so very much.’

‘It is a shame, of course. However, I am sure we shall meet again soon—unless you feel compelled to leave for Venice immediately?’

Smiling, Mariah rose from her seat, nodded to her hostess and walked slowly towards Andrew, who was standing with Sylvia at the edge of the lake, watching some children playing with a ball.

‘It is a perfect day for being on the water, is it not?’ she asked, then, frowning, ‘Have you heard about the attack on Lieutenant Grainger? Lady Jenkins is quite distressed.’

‘Yes, of course. Lady Jenkins was good enough to invite me to stay with them.’

‘I had not realised that,’ Mariah said. ‘I might have invited you to stay with us.’

‘Had I not already accepted Lady Jenkins’s invitation I should have been happy to do so. I am pleased to tell you that Grainger’s pride is more bruised than his arm, though he wears it in a sling for a slight sprain and was advised to rest.’

‘What is that?’ Sylvia asked. ‘Lady Jenkins told me he sent his apologies, but nothing more.’

‘I dare say he would rather not make a fuss—but apparently he was attacked while out walking early this morning. Some ruffians knocked him to the ground and beat him, then suddenly ran off.’

‘Was he robbed?’ Sylvia looked alarmed.

‘I think not. It was a senseless attack for no reason—unless Lieutenant Grainger has an enemy, of course.’

‘That is so shocking,’ Sylvia said and looked at Andrew. ‘I have not heard of such a thing happening here before—have you?’

‘It is rare, I think,’ Andrew replied. He hesitated, as if he would say more, then changed his mind. ‘He was walking in an isolated area, I believe. You must be safe enough here amongst so many.’

‘Yes, but still …’ Sylvia shook her head in distress. ‘It is disturbing none the less.’

‘Yes, it is a little,’ Mariah said. ‘Lieutenant Grainger was obliged to seek the services of a doctor. Lady Jenkins is distressed and thinks of removing to Venice sooner than she had planned.’

‘I do not blame her,’ Sylvia said. ‘Such things make one uncomfortable. I shall speak to Hubert later. We are engaged to Count Paolo later this week at his home in Milan. He is holding a masked ball in our honour, as you know, Mariah—but after that I, too, may think of repairing to Venice sooner than we had planned.’

‘I should not let one incident overset you, ma’am,’ Andrew said. ‘I dare say it may have been some louts who’d overimbibed and thought to take their opportunity. Such things happen anywhere at any time, you know. Even in London there was a time when the Mohawks, marauding louts, some of them meant to be gentlemen, made the streets unsafe because of their drunken behaviour. I am certain both you and Mariah are safe enough, providing you do not walk alone at night—or in isolated places during the day.’

‘Mariah walks alone sometimes during the day.’ Sylvia looked at her anxiously. ‘I think you should be more careful in future, dearest. If there are unscrupulous rogues about, you must wait until you have an escort.’

‘I was thinking of walking to the far shore,’ Mariah said and turned her bright gaze on Andrew. ‘Would you oblige me, sir?’

‘Yes, of course, if you wish it,’ Andrew said and turned to Sylvia. ‘You will excuse us, ma’am—unless you wish to accompany us?’

‘It would be too far for me,’ Sylvia replied. ‘Besides, Lady Jenkins spoke of taking a trip on the water and I think I should like to go, too. Enjoy yourselves, but please do not wear yourself out, Mariah. Remember that we leave for Milan in the morning.’

‘I shall not be in the least tired. I have far too much energy. If I do not use some of it, I cannot rest at night.’

Mariah took Andrew’s arm and they set out together, admiring various aspects of the scenery. She enjoyed the feeling of being close to him, her heart beating a little faster than normal. Not until some minutes had passed and they had seen no one else for a while did Mariah speak of what was on her mind.

‘I have decided I must marry soon,’ she announced and felt Andrew’s little start of surprise. He glanced at her and she lifted her fine eyebrows, giving him a provocative look. ‘I hope to announce my engagement on my return to England or perhaps before we reach Paris.’

He arched one eyebrow. ‘Am I to wish you happy? May I know the name of the fortunate gentleman?’

‘Oh, I have not yet decided who I shall marry,’ Mariah said with an innocent air. ‘I need a husband, Andrew. I am tired of being a widow and wish for the comforts of marriage. Tell me, what do you know of Lieutenant Grainger? I should like your opinion of his character and whether you think he would make me a suitable husband.’

‘Has he spoken to you?’ Andrew’s gaze narrowed.

‘Not in so many words,’ Mariah said and dimpled naughtily. ‘Lieutenant Grainger has been very complimentary and his aunt tells me he was devastated that he had to cry off today. I dare say a little encouragement from me might bring him to the point—but you shall guide me.’

‘Does it have to be so immediate?’ Andrew asked, a hint of impatience in his tone. ‘Why the hurry, Mariah? Do you feel yourself in danger of being abducted again?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said airily. ‘No, it is simply that I wish to be married again. I want someone I can rely on, a strong arm to support me—the kind of companionship that comes from living with a man.’

‘Are you sure you are not reacting to that unfortunate business at home?’

‘I do not think so,’ Mariah said, considering. ‘Yes, I was in some distress for a few days after the event. I was unfortunately unwell while I stayed with Jane and you, Andrew, and I did feel vulnerable for a time, but I have recovered from that now, I assure you.’

‘When we met the other morning at your friend’s villa, you seemed to be in some distress,’ Andrew said thoughtfully.

‘Was I? Yes, perhaps.’ Mariah sighed. ‘I still feel sad when I think of my late husband. Contrary to most people’s belief, I loved Winston—perhaps not in the way I might love a younger man, but I was certainly very fond of him. I do miss him still.’

‘Why did you marry him?’

‘Partly because he asked when I was feeling piqued. You know Justin Avonlea asked me to marry him because his father had lost much of my fortune? I was annoyed because I knew he did not care for me—and there were other reasons. However, I was happy in my short marriage and I have become bored with being a widow.’

‘Might you not regret it if you married simply because you are bored with your present life?’

‘Perhaps.’ Her eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘What else would you advise—should I take a lover, perhaps? Can you find me a suitable candidate who would oblige me without demanding too much?’

‘I think you have a wicked tongue, Mariah.’ Andrew gave a reluctant laugh. ‘It is as well that I know you are jesting.’

‘Am I? Are you perfectly sure? You do not know me that well, Andrew,’ Mariah teased. ‘I should like to know your true opinion of my character. Do tell, Andrew! Am I a wicked flirt? No better than I ought to be?’ She tipped her head to one side, a challenge in her eyes and her lips slightly parted. ‘Or am I a featherbrained goose?’

‘You do not need me to answer that. If I were a vain man, I might think you were deliberately provoking me.’

‘Perhaps I am.’ Mariah tipped her head to one side. ‘Yet I fear it is beyond me. You, my best of friends, are far too sensible to be turned from your purpose by such a flighty jade as I.’

‘Had I not other things on my mind I might take you at your word, Mariah.’

‘Indeed? I have sensed something, Andrew. Will you not tell me? If it is a matter of money, I might …’ She faltered as he frowned. ‘No? Yet I suspect something is bothering you—can you not unburden yourself to a friend?’

‘My problem is mine to solve, Mariah. I fear if you look for a proposal from me I cannot oblige, much as I might wish things otherwise.’

‘That is plain speaking,’ Mariah said, laughing to hide the sudden strike of pain. ‘What a shocking disappointment! So, if you are not on the marriage market, for the moment that leaves Lieutenant Grainger … I ask you in all seriousness, what is your opinion of that gentleman? You did say you would help me to make a good selection when last we spoke of marriage.’

‘I could not advise you on the merits or otherwise of that particular gentleman, Mariah. If you are serious, I will enquire into his prospects and his background. Indeed, he seems respectable enough—but I am not certain he would suit you. You might find him a little worthy.’

‘Damning indeed! Worthy? How dull, Andrew. While I would not wish for a black sheep, a slightly grey one might do well enough,’ Mariah said, her fingers pressing lightly on his arm. Why could the foolish man not tell her what was troubling him? Any other man would seize the opportunity she’d given him to flirt and steal a kiss. ‘Can you not think of someone you might recommend, Andrew? Will you not save me from taking the next fortune hunter that crosses my path?’

‘Are you playing a game with me?’ Andrew stopped walking, turning to look into her eyes. ‘If this is your idea of amusement, we may banter and then forget it—but if you are in earnest I shall give the matter some serious thought. However, I think you must give yourself a little more time.’

Mariah pouted. ‘Must I? Very well, I am prepared to wait a few months longer if I must, but please take me seriously. If you cannot help me, I may have to decide for myself—and then I might make a mistake. How would you feel with that on your conscience? I am a lonely widow at the mercy of unscrupulous men—and I asked you for help. Ignore me at your peril.’

A gleam of amusement sprang up in his eyes and for a moment she felt he was close to taking hold of her and giving her a good shake.

‘You deserve a spanking, Mariah.’

‘You wouldn’t dare …’

‘Do not be too certain.’

Mariah laughed. ‘Very well, I shall not tease you, Andrew—but I am serious. I believe I shall not be happy until I find a husband I can admire and like.’

‘You are serious now, I think.’

‘Yes—and I need your help. Truly I do.’

‘Very well. Give me two months after we all return to England, Mariah. If I cannot come up with a suggestion that suits you in that time …’ He shook his head, a reluctant smile in his eyes. ‘You are a minx, Lady Fanshawe. I wish I might speak freely …’ He saw the question in her eyes. ‘My hands are tied for the moment.

Come, can you truly not wait a little longer to find a husband who will love and care for you?’

‘If he was the right man, I would wait for ever,’ Mariah said and for once she was not laughing. Her heart raced. Surely he must know what was in her mind? She could not be plainer. ‘Do you think I might find love, Andrew? I have sometimes thought that I must be unlovable since no one seems to care for anything but my fortune.’

‘Ridiculous,’ he replied, a frown creasing his brow. ‘You must know you are beautiful and charming. I dare say most men fall in love with you—but some are in desperate need of your fortune. Others are gamblers and you could not trust them even if they cared for you. However, I dare say there are at least twenty gentlemen I could bring to mind once we are in London.’

‘Then you advise me to wait?’ Mariah nodded. ‘Well, I dare say I should need time to choose my bride clothes and have them made. Very well, I shall take your advice, my good friend.’

‘Is there anything else your ladyship requires me to pack?’

‘No, I do not think so …’

Mariah sighed as her gaze fell on the small trunk, which was to accompany them on their visit to Milan. They would stay at the count’s large house in Milan for two nights before returning to his villa to complete their stay in Italy. In less than three weeks they would remove to Venice for a few days before leaving for France. Sylvia wished to spend a little time shopping in Paris and after that they would return home to England.

What was she supposed to do with her life then? Lucinda had said she would be welcome to make her home with her and Justin, but though Mariah would be happy to visit for a while, she needed her own home. She had paid brief visits to the country house Winston had left her, but it was too grand and impersonal. Of course she could fill it with friends, but she did not think it would suit her to live always in the country—at least, it might be bearable if she were married. As a widow she would do better in London or Bath. No! Bath was full of old tabbies who had nothing better to do than drink the foul waters and whisper behind their fans about the latest on dit in London.

Mariah thought she would rather be amongst the people making those scandals—or preferably making them herself. A mischievous smile touched her soft mouth. Andrew’s manner was so frustrating to a woman who did everything impulsively. His eyes seemed to caress her, to dwell on her mouth, as if he found it attractive, yet she could not tease him into a kiss. She could have sworn he was on the verge of making her an offer as they walked by the lake the other day—or at least declaring himself—but he had drawn back once more. Her intuition told her that there was some mystery, perhaps some hint of scandal. Andrew was being so foolish. If he would only confide his problem to her, she might be able to help him. As if she would have cared for a little scandal!

‘May I send for the porter, Lady Fanshawe?’

‘Yes, please do, Lily,’ Mariah said and smiled at her maid. ‘Once the trunk has been taken you may go to bed. I am not ready to retire yet and can manage my gown myself when I wish to disrobe.’

‘Very well, milady.’

Mariah left her maid to arrange for the luggage to be taken down to the porter’s wagon. It would set off before them and her things would be unpacked and waiting for her when they arrived.

Mariah had not yet met Count Paolo, who was a personal friend of Lord Hubert and of his age group, she supposed. He had graciously loaned them his beautiful villa here at the lakes and must be a generous man. Mariah wondered if he were married. She had not heard Sylvia speak of his wife or family.

Shaking her head at the way her thoughts were taking her, Mariah went down to the spacious salon, which led onto a veranda. The windows were closed, but not locked, and she let herself out, deciding to take a turn about the lush gardens. The air was heavy with scent from a variety of flowers. Mariah thought she could smell jasmine, oleanders, roses and other more exotic perfumes that she could not name.

It was such a perfect setting. A night for romance and adventure, she thought, feeling wistful. How pleasant it would be to walk here with the man she loved, to feel his strong arms about her and his lips on hers. A surge of need and longing swept through her. She had so many friends and yet she was lonely.

She wanted someone special, a man she could lean on in times of trouble, a companion who would be with her throughout life, taking the good things with the bad.

Feeling the trickle of tears on her cheeks, Mariah swept them away impatiently. She would not give way to self-pity! Yet she wanted so much to be loved—passionately and without restraint. She was a fool to torture herself with thoughts of Andrew Lanchester. If he cared for her at all, he would surely speak!

Raising her head, Mariah felt angry. Why should she wait? If she were offered marriage by a man she believed more interested in her than her fortune, she would accept—and if a man she could like sufficiently offered an affair she might take a lover.

She was so tired of being a widow.

The journey to Milan was accomplished without incident and Mariah was delighted to discover that Count Paolo’s home there was one of Milan’s ancient palaces and had beautiful gardens and courtyards behind the rather faded facade. The entrance hall was large with high arched ceilings and marble floors, the sound of their footsteps echoing as the count’s English butler greeted them and took them up to their apartments.

‘Count Paolo will be with you in a short time,’ the man said deferentially. ‘He is with other visitors, but he will be with you very soon.’

‘Yes, of course, Tomkins,’ Lady Hubert said and smiled at him. ‘And how have you been keeping since we last saw you?’

‘Very well, milady. The climate suits me here and I have settled in nicely. I am grateful to you for recommending me to the count.’

‘I was happy to do so. I knew you would get on famously.’

Sylvia beamed at him as he preceded them up the wide, rather worn stone stairs to the gallery above, then turned to Mariah.

‘Tomkins worked for my father until he died, you know. He suffers with the rheumatics and decided he would like to live in a warmer climate than the east of England. Knowing that Count Paolo was looking for a major-domo for his house here, I suggested he might apply and gave him a reference.’

‘That was kind of you.’

‘Oh, no, Tomkins deserved it. He was very kind to Papa in his last days.’

They were led along the gallery to a suite of rooms that overlooked the courtyards to the rear of the house. Mariah went immediately to the window to glance out. The paved courtyard was very attractive with its slightly uneven and faded pink bricks that were interspersed with rose beds; there was a fountain with beautiful statuary and she could see a series of courtyards and gardens leading from the one below.

A man and a woman were walking at the far side of the courtyard. As she watched, the man kissed the woman’s hand and she left him, going through an arched gateway to whatever lay beyond. A servant approached the man, who glanced up at the window where Mariah stood and nodded at something he had been told.

Was he the count? From this distance Mariah could see little except that he was dressed exquisitely in the French manner and his hair was a pale silver-blonde.

She drew away from the window as Sylvia called to her, ‘This is your room, dearest. What do you think?’

Mariah went through the elegant sitting room to a bedroom. She gasped, for it was beyond anything that she had expected. Furnished in the French Empire style, which had become so fashionable during Napoleon’s occupation, the furniture was imposing and grand rather than comfortable, made of light wood strung with ebony and gold leaf, the soft furnishings in purple and cream with touches of black. The mirrors were flamboyant with gilded rococo-style frames, as was a picture that looked as if it were an Old Master. Perhaps not da Vinci, but of the same period, and the ceiling was painted with ridiculously fat cherubs, ladies of ample proportions and a satyr.

‘Good gracious,’ she murmured, a naughty gleam in her eye. ‘I am overwhelmed. Do you suppose this chamber was meant for royalty?’

‘I think Napoleon may have stayed here, though I am not certain he had this suite,’ Sylvia replied and laughed. ‘That was in Count Paolo’s father’s day, of course. He has only recently inherited the estate, you know. Hubert was the late count’s friend, but we met Paolo at the funeral and he was gracious enough to offer us his villa whenever we wished to stay near the lakes.’

‘He must be a very generous man.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Sylvia replied. ‘He would accept no payment—but I believe Hubert and the count have some business together. The count also has vineyards and wishes to import his wines to England.’

‘Ah, yes, a mutually beneficial arrangement. I wonder—’

Mariah broke off as she heard a knock at the door and then the sound of Lord Hubert’s rather loud voice greeting their host. Drawn by curiosity as much as politeness, she walked back to the sitting room with Sylvia, glancing at the man standing with Lord Hubert. Her breath caught, for he was an extraordinarily handsome man, his eyes a greenish-blue and his hair a pale blonde, but not quite the silver it had looked in the sunlight. His nose was patrician, his forehead high, his chin not square but strong and his mouth soft and sensual. He was older than she had expected after hearing that he had only recently come into his title, being nearer thirty than twenty and of a slender build. His clothes were extravagant, very French, his cravat exquisitely tied, his coat a deep shade of violet and his breeches a paler shade of the same colour; his long fingers were crowded with expensive rings. From his accent as he spoke, she thought he must have spent much of his time in France prior to his inheriting the estate in Lombardy.

She became aware that he was staring at her in a way that made her body tingle from head to toe. This was one of the most sensual, aggressively masculine men she had ever met despite his foppery. His eyes were the eyes of a predator and she knew immediately that he found her physically attractive. The smile on his lips sent a little shiver down her spine—he was a hunter and she sensed that she had been added to the list of his prey, which she imagined to be substantial.

She must be on her guard with this man or he would gobble her up! How very exciting to be sure. Life would not be dull for a few days.

‘Lady Hubert. Madame, I am delighted to welcome you to my humble home—and your friend, the so-delightful Lady Fanshawe.’ He moved towards Mariah with the grace of a large cat on the prowl. Politeness made her offer her hand. The count took it between his own for a moment, then lifted it to his lips, depositing a kiss on the palm. It was such an intimate gesture that Mariah found herself suffused with warmth. She glanced up at him and saw the challenge in his eyes.

‘Such beauty leaves me without words,’ he declared. ‘Had I known what to expect, but even your friend did not do you justice … magnifique …’

‘You flatter me, sir,’ Mariah said, but she smiled and did not withdraw her hand too quickly. His overt flirting made her want to laugh and she was intrigued. She could not imagine that Count Paolo was in need of a fortune. This house and its contents were worth a fortune alone, to say nothing of the beautiful villa at the lakes and his vineyards. No, he was not a fortune hunter, but perhaps something more dangerous. He hunted for a different kind of prey, but he oozed sensual charm. She was certain he would seduce her if she let down her guard.

‘No, I never flatter,’ the count denied. ‘I say only what is in my mind—and you are one of the most beautiful women I have met. It is a great pleasure for me to have you at my home.’

‘I am overwhelmed, sir,’ Mariah replied. ‘Your house is astonishing—such splendour and grandeur. I do not think I have seen anything like it in a private home before.’

‘There are many such palaces in Lombardy and Rome. Venice is renowned for its beautiful palaces, of course—but for me there is nowhere quite like Paris. I lived there for many years. My father and I did not always agree and I had interests in Paris. My wife is French and I have a house there still.’

‘Your wife? Do you have children, signor?’ Maria was surprised. So he was married. Not a possible candidate for her husband, then.

She was not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved.

‘A daughter only.’ A look of disappointment or anger passed across his face. ‘I should say that I had a wife. She died in an unfortunate accident some months ago. I am a widower …’ He spread his hands. ‘It was very sad, you understand. However, we were not—compatible is, I think, the word. It was a foolish marriage undertaken when we were both too young. Our daughter will remain with her mama’s family—but I require a son, naturally. In time, when I find a lady I can both admire and love, I shall marry again.’

‘I am sorry for your loss, sir. I hope you will find happiness one day.’

‘Yes, it is very sad for the child, because she misses her mama. I have promised her that one day I shall find her a new mama and she will have brothers and sisters to play with.’ He smiled. ‘You may wonder why I chose to speak of such private matters? I feel empathy between us, madame. You have lost a doting husband, I have lost a wife. I hope we shall be good friends—perhaps more in time, who knows?’

Something in his tone made Mariah’s spine tingle. She had never known a man to speak so directly at a first meeting, though many pursued her hotly.

‘I hope we shall be friends, sir. I have heard much of you from Lady Sylvia. I shall enjoy making your acquaintance.’

The count smiled oddly. ‘I have spoken too boldly, perhaps? It is my way, madame. Forgive me, your beauty swept away all caution and I feel as if I have known you all my life—have been waiting for this moment.’

He spoke of it as if it was his destiny—hers, too, perhaps. His smile was charming and all feeling of boredom had fled. Mariah had been longing for something to happen and now it had. If she wanted an adventure, the count would be more than willing to provide it.

Mariah was aware of a mutual attraction, for she had seen his interest immediately and felt something herself—but he went too fast. His eyes seemed to unclothe her and she read his thoughts so easily that she could not meet his gaze for more than a moment. This man was charming and exciting, but she felt slightly out of her depth, as if she did not take care she would be swept away out of her control.

‘You flatter me, sir. I think you like to tease and provoke.’

‘Do not be misled, madame. I am in earnest, I assure you—but I am a terrible host,’ he said, becoming aware that they had an interested audience and letting go of her hand. ‘You must come down and meet my friends—unless you would prefer refreshments to be served here so that you may rest?’

‘Oh, no, we need just a few moments to freshen ourselves,’ Sylvia replied. ‘I am looking forward to exploring your gardens, Count Paolo. I imagine they are different to those at the villa?’

‘Yes, indeed, far more formal,’ the count replied, turning his attention to her. ‘It will be my pleasure to show both you and Lady Fanshawe after we have taken some refreshment. If you will excuse me, I must welcome other guests. Please come down and join us when you are ready.’

‘Well,’ Sylvia said as the door closed behind him, ‘how very odd. For one moment I thought—he looked as if he could devour you, Mariah.’

‘Nonsense,’ her husband said. ‘I have found the count both direct and honest in his dealings. He was making his situation clear. He is clearly looking for marriage and Mariah is beautiful enough to make most men lose their heads. The fellow was bowled over. You have made another conquest, m’dear. I almost pity the poor man.’

Sylvia arched her brows at Mariah, as if to say that a man would not understand. Such a direct approach was meant to have significance of some kind. Mariah was inclined to think the count bent on seduction. She was, after all, a widow and as such he probably thought her fair game. He couldn’t have been hinting at marriage when they had only that moment met for the first time. She had read too much into the count’s words. Lord Hubert was right. He had been struck and his tongue had run away with him; it was not the first time, though most young men became tongue-tied and foolish, staring at her with calf eyes. The count was very different.

Her pulses throbbed. He was certainly very attractive and she might not be averse to a brief flirtation, though she sensed that it might be dangerous to become more intimately involved with him.

Becoming aware that her friend was waiting for an answer, Mariah laughed softly. ‘He is a surprising man,’ she said. ‘However, I must reserve judgement until I know him a little better.’

Chapter Four

Count Paolo certainly knew how to charm, both ladies and gentlemen. After a mere day spent in his company, Mariah had to admit that she liked him. She also found him physically attractive, though something warned her to be wary of showing it. He had given them a tour of his gardens in the cool of early evening, when the perfume of flowers wafted on a slight breeze filling the air with sweetness and the sun’s fierce heat had abated.

‘English ladies have such delicate complexions,’ he said, offering his arm to Sylvia as Mariah followed with Lord Hubert. ‘You must always be careful to stay out of the midday sun or you may spoil your beautiful skin, madame.’

‘Oh, I never go out without a hat and my parasol during the day,’ Sylvia told him. ‘Mariah will do it, but she does not seem to burn as I do.’

‘Lady Fanshawe has the kind of skin the sun loves,’ Paolo said, directing a look at Mariah that she felt far hotter than any sunshine. ‘I think perhaps she may have Latin blood in her somewhere.’

‘Oh, no, I do not think it,’ Mariah replied, a little smile on her mouth. ‘My mother and father were both of English descent—unless one of my ancestors strayed …’ There was a hint of mischief in her manner as she deliberately teased. ‘I must admit that I do love to walk in the sun without my hat. Sylvia is forever scolding me.’

‘I should not like you to be ill,’ Sylvia said fondly. ‘You are as a sister to me, dearest. I had brothers, but no sisters, something I regretted, and you have become more to me than most sisters could ever be.’

‘I am very fond of you, too,’ Mariah said. ‘I do not know how I should have managed after Winston died if you had not come for me.’

‘You speak of your husband?’ Paolo’s left eyebrow arched. ‘He was, I believe, some years your senior?’

‘Yes, but the kindest, sweetest man I have ever known.’

Paolo inclined his head. ‘Of course you must miss him, but you are too young to grieve for ever, I think?’

‘Winston would not expect it,’ Sylvia said before Mariah could answer. ‘We have been speaking of Mariah’s marrying again. She will not wish to remain a widow for ever.’

‘No, that would be a waste,’ the count said, his gaze smouldering as he looked her way. ‘Such beauty in a woman is meant for pleasure, to be enjoyed and savoured by the man who adores her.’

Mariah swallowed hard and then ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. The expression in his eyes was setting little butterflies of apprehension fluttering low in her abdomen. Count Paolo was one of the most sensual men she’d ever met. If she wanted an affair, he would certainly oblige her.

For a moment her thoughts returned to those few precious moments by the lake when she’d thought that Andrew Lanchester cared—that he would ask her to marry him. He had not spoken, even though she’d tried to provoke him by suggesting that he help her to find a husband.

Andrew Lanchester was the man she wanted. Why could he not look at her like this?

‘You have a beautiful home here, sir. I think if it were mine, I should not wish to leave it often.’

‘I have always preferred my houses in France. I lived there for many years as a child and a young man. However, a house is but a house unless it contains a special person who makes it a home.’

‘Yes, that is perfectly true.’

Mariah felt herself warming to him. He seemed to think as he ought and despite an instinctive feeling that she should be careful of him, she found him attractive. Marriage with such a man would certainly leave no time for moping or feeling lonely.

‘I would be willing to live almost anywhere with the woman I loved. No sacrifice is too much when one loves, do you not agree, madame?’

Mariah nodded, making no answer. His eyes seemed to convey so much and her breath caught in her throat. She could not doubt that he was pursuing her in earnest. There was a small silence before Sylvia drew the count’s attention to a particularly fine specimen of lily.

Mariah had seen the faint lift of the count’s eyebrows. The signals were clear; he waited only for some sign of encouragement. She was afraid to give it, afraid of the intensity in his eyes.

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