“What are you going to do with me?” Beth asked.

“Oh, do not fret. I have no designs on your person,” he said.

“Then let me go.”

“That, I think, would be considered unchivalrous.”

“No more unchivalrous than holding a lady against her wishes.”

“If the lady has no idea of the danger she is in, then a gentleman has no choice.” He laughed suddenly. “Whatever made you think you could pass yourself off as a boy? A more feminine figure I have yet to meet.” His eyes roamed appreciatively over her as he spoke.

The only slightly masculine thing about her was her cut-down fingernails. He was intrigued by them. “It is a good thing I intervened when I did.”

Talk of the Ton

Harlequin®Historical

MILLS & BOON

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MARY NICHOLS

Born in Singapore, Mary Nichols came to England when she was three, and has spent most of her life in different parts of East Anglia. She has been a radiographer, a school secretary, an information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children and four grandchildren.

Talk of the Ton
MARY NICHOLS

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

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#895 WESTERN WEDDINGS

Jillian Hart, Kate Bridges and Charlene Sands

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#896 NOTORIOUS RAKE, INNOCENT LADY—

Bronwyn Scott

Her virginity would be sold to the highest bidder! Determined not to enter into an arranged marriage, Julia could see no way out—unless she could seduce the notorious Black Rake….

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#897 COOPER’S WOMAN—Carol Finch

A proper lady should have no dealings with a gunfighter who has a shady past, yet Alexa is bent on becoming

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Carol Finch’s thrilling Western adventure will have you on the edge of your seat.

#898 TAKEN BY THE VIKING—Michelle Styles

A dark, arrogant Viking swept Annis back to his homeland.

Now she must choose between the lowly work that befits a captive and a life of sinful pleasure in the Viking’s arms!

Viking’s slave or Viking’s mistress? Annis must choose in this powerful, sensual story!

#235 A WEALTHY WIDOW—Anne Herries

Elegant, beautiful and inordinately rich, Lady Arabella Marshall is used to fending off fortune-hunters’ unwanted flattery. But now such attentions have become deadly!

A sparkling Regency romance, spiced with a dash of intrigue!

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The Incomparable Countess #156

Lady Lavinia’s Match #163

A Lady of Consequence #169

Mistress of Madderlea #177

The Hemingford Scandal #196

Marrying Miss Hemingford #199

Bachelor Duke #204

Dear Deceiver #213

An Unusual Bequest #218

The Reluctant Escort #226

Talk of the Ton #236

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 One

The girl, sitting on a rickety chair in the potting shed watching the young man lovingly tend a delicate plant he had been nurturing, wore a pair of breeches tucked into riding boots, a cream-coloured shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a sackcloth apron. Her hair was tucked up beneath a scarf. The clothes were old and a little shabby, but that did not disguise the fact that they were well cut and had once, many years before, been the height of male fashion.

‘I wish I could go plant collecting,’ she said wistfully, watching his deft fingers. They were blunt and dirty, but she had become so used to that she didn’t even notice, any more than she was aware of her incongruous garb and the fact that her own fingernails were far from pristine.

‘So you can. The heath is covered in plants, if you look carefully.’

‘No, I meant exploring in foreign countries, climbing the Himalayas or trekking through China or riding a donkey in Mexico.’ Her interest in botany had been fired when, as a small girl, she had watched Joshua Pershore, their gardener, working in their garden. ‘Plants are like people,’ he had told her. ‘Look after them and they will reward you with years of pleasure.’

She had asked him if she could have a patch of garden all to herself and he had shown her how to prepare the soil and sow seed and divide plants to make more. She had watched her garden grow, excitedly noting the first snowdrop, the delicate petals of roses and the way the bulbs died down each year and sprang up anew the next spring. And when she discovered that Toby also shared her passion, it forged a bond between them that sometimes carried them into the realms of fantasy.

She dreamed of emulating the great plant hunters like Sir Joseph Banks, who had travelled with Captain Cook and transformed the Royal gardens at Kew from a pleasure ground to a great botanic garden with specimens from all over the world. And there were others whose exploits and discoveries had fired her interest, men like Francis Masson, and David Nelson, who had been both with Captain Cook when he was murdered by hostile natives and later on the ill-fated voyage with Captain Bligh when he had been cast adrift with him in an open boat when the crew mutinied. That feat had made sure the captain’s name went down in history, though David Nelson lost all his specimens.

‘You’ll have to marry a rich husband and then perhaps he will take you.’

‘I’d rather go with you.’

‘Then you will have a long wait. It takes a great deal of blunt and that’s something I haven’t got. I need a rich sponsor who will pay for everything, and where I am going to find one of those I do not know.’

‘Then why talk about it?’

‘I can dream, can’t I?’

‘Yes, and so can I.’

He looked closely at her. She was unaware how beautiful she was with hair the colour of a glossy ripe chestnut and brown eyes set in a classically oval face. She had a small straight nose and a determined chin and he loved her. Not that he could ever tell her that; she was far and away above him and he, the son of the estate steward, did not aspire to such dizzy heights, for all the freedom his father was allowed in running the Harley domain. ‘Is that all you dream of? Don’t you think of things like come-outs and balls and being courted by all the young eligibles in town?’

‘Mama is always talking about giving me a Season,’ she said.

‘I have contrived to delay it until now, but Livvy turned seventeen last month and she says she will bring us both out together and I suppose I will have to agree for Livvy’s sake. According to Mama, it is not the thing for the younger sister to marry before the elder, everyone will think there is something wrong with me.’

‘So there is if you are averse to balls and tea parties and being sought after by all the beaux of the ton.’

‘I want to do something practical, something I’ll be famous for. The woman who discovered a new plant, hitherto unknown to man.’

‘Pigs might fly!’

‘That’s what you dream of and I know you mean to try and make it come true.’

‘I’m a man.’

There was no answer to that and she stood up and brushed crumbs of soil from her breeches. ‘I must go. My uncle James is coming on a visit and I have to change.’

‘The Duke of Belfont,’ he murmured. ‘I should think he’d have a fit if he could see you now.’

She laughed and hurried out of the building and along the path that led back to the house.

It was all very well to dress eccentrically in the confines of the grounds around Beechgrove—breeches and a shirt were far the most practical attire for gardening—but she knew that it was hardly the apparel for a nineteen-year-old brought up in polite society. Her mother had long since given up remonstrating with her, asking only that she never appeared in public thus dressed and certainly not before her uncle, the Duke of Belfont. Uncle James never forgot his rank and took his role as guardian very seriously. To Beth and her sister he was a stern disciplinarian, though Mama said that was only his way and he wanted to do his best for his nieces. And today he was coming to make the arrangements for that dreaded come-out.

‘Harri, can that be Elizabeth?’ James was standing in the back parlour of Beechgrove, which looked out on the terrace from which steps led to well-manicured lawns and flower beds bright with the yellow of daffodils and the amber of gilly flowers. Beyond that, though it was hidden by a shrubbery, he knew there was a walled kitchen garden and a row of greenhouses and outhouses. It was from that direction the figure on the path had come.

Harriet left the tea tray over which she had been presiding to come and stand beside him. ‘Yes, I am afraid it is.’

‘Good God!’ He watched as Beth strode down the path, head thrown back, arms swinging; if it were not for her feminine curves, he would have taken her for a boy.

‘She likes to help in the garden and that is by far the most practical mode of dress. She is decently covered and can move about without snagging her garments on thorns and suchlike. We should be for ever mending if—’

He turned towards her. ‘Are you telling me you allow it?’

‘Yes, so long as she stays in the garden and we have no guests.’

‘Then it is as well I am here. The sooner she is installed at Belfont House and taught how a young lady should dress and behave the better.’

‘James, she knows perfectly well how to dress and behave. You are being unkind to her.’

‘And how do you suppose a prospective husband would react if he could see her now?’

‘But there is no one here, certainly not a prospective husband.’

He sighed and returned to his seat. ‘Oh, Harri, why did you not marry again? You would never have had this trouble if there had been a man in the house.’

‘I am not having trouble, James. You are making a mountain out of a molehill. And I did not wish to marry again. And as for a man, why would I want one of those, when I have you?’

He laughed suddenly; it lightened his rather stern features and made him look more like the boy she had grown up with, before he had unexpectedly been forced to take on the role of Duke and head of the family. ‘And what about Olivia? Is she dressed like the potboy?’

‘No. She has gone riding dressed in her green habit.’ She smiled. ‘Very decorous it is too.’

He accepted a cup of tea from her. ‘Then what about bringing them to Belfont House for the Season? You used to come every year before I married Sophie.’

‘You needed me to act as your hostess, but, now you have Sophie, you don’t.’

‘Come as our guests. Sophie will enjoy your company and we can give the girls a Season to remember.’

‘Thank you, James. Let’s put it to the girls over dinner.’

Put it to the girls, he mused, as if they would be allowed to veto the suggestion. He decided not to comment.

When the two girls appeared at the dining table, they were dressed decorously. Beth’s gown was in deep rose-pink silk with a boat-shaped neck, which emphasised her smooth shoulders and long neck. The waistline, in its natural place, was encircled by a wide ribbon. Her hair had been brushed and coiled on top of her head. Livvy was in a blue gown that almost exactly mirrored the colour of her eyes. It was trimmed with quantities of matching lace. They curtsied to their uncle. ‘Good evening, Uncle,’ they said together.

He bowed slightly. ‘Elizabeth. Olivia.’

‘Oh, we are in for a scolding,’ Livvy said, as they took their places at the table and the maids moved forward to serve them. ‘His Grace is being formal.’

In spite of himself, James laughed. ‘Not at all, but you are both young ladies now and must be treated as such.’

‘Does that mean we are to be given more freedom?’ Beth asked.

‘What can you mean, more freedom?’ he queried. ‘You are not confined, are you? You may come and go within reason. I go so far as to say you are allowed far more licence that most young ladies in your position.’

Beth realised that he had seen her coming back to the house, in spite of the care she had taken to come in by the kitchen door and take the back stairs to her room. It probably meant her mother had been scolded about it and she was sorry for that. How she hated the unnatural manners of society, which dictated how she should behave. If she had been a boy…She smiled to herself; she would be Sir Something-or-other Harley, baronet and master of Beechgrove.

It was a large solid house, built a century before in rich red brick. She loved it, she loved everything about it, its nooks and crannies, the huge kitchens, the gleaming windows, the mix of old and new furniture, the surrounding gardens, particularly the gardens, which people came from miles to see and admire. Beth had jokingly suggested they ought to charge them for the privilege, but her mother had been horrified at the very idea. It was their duty to be hospitable, she said.

‘You are smiling,’ her uncle commented, while her mother picked at the fish on her plate. ‘Will you share the joke with us?’

‘I was thinking what it must be like to be a boy.’

It was the wrong thing to say because it reminded him of what he had seen. ‘Elizabeth, you are not a boy, you are a young lady, and wearing male clothes will not make you one. Where did you get them from?’

‘I found them in the attic. I believe they belonged to Papa before he went into the army. He must have been quite slender then, for they fit me well enough.’

That was what she reminded him of when he had seen her in the garden: her long-dead father. She had the same proud walk; had Harriet noticed it too? Was that why she had allowed it, to bring back a little of the husband she had lost or perhaps conjure up the son she had never had but had always longed for? ‘I think it is time you had a Season and learned what is expected of you,’ he said. ‘You, too, Livvy. Naturally, I shall sponsor you both.’

‘Oh, that means every impoverished bachelor in town will be all over us,’ Beth said. ‘The famous Harley girls, nieces to the Duke of Belfont, on the marriage mart, the objects of every rake, gambler and spotty young shaver who fancies his chances. It will be hateful.’

‘You must have a very poor opinion of me if you think I will allow that to happen,’ he said. ‘You will be protected from the undesirable—’

‘And from anyone in the least bit interesting too.’

‘Not at all. Credit me with a little compassion.’

‘Beth, please don’t be difficult,’ Harriet said.

‘I am sorry, Mama, but you know how I feel about the false way husbands are chosen. I want to be in love with the man I marry. Who he is, and how rich he is, is unimportant.’

‘You will not be forced into marriage, Beth,’ James said gently. ‘The idea is simply to introduce you to society and to allow you to choose for yourself. Your mother married for love, I married for love—I do not see why you should not do so too.’

‘Within reason,’ she added, suddenly thinking of Toby. He was so easy with her, but then they had known each other since they were tiny children, had as good as grown up together, and the difference in their status was unimportant.

‘Within reason,’ James concurred, as if he could guess her thoughts.

‘I should like to be married,’ Livvy put in. ‘He must be handsome, of course, and not too old, but rich enough to have extensive stables. Horses must be his passion.’

James laughed. ‘Then we shall have to see if we can suit you. But there is no hurry, you are still very young.’

‘And Beth must be accommodated first.’

‘That would be best,’ their mother put in.

‘Then I do hope you are not going to be difficult, Beth,’ Livvy said, turning to her sister. ‘I do not want to let my perfect partner slip through my fingers because you are prevaricating.’

Beth longed to suggest that they should go without her and leave her to her gardening and her dreams of becoming a famous botanist, but she knew that would upset her mother, so she said nothing. They spent some time discussing the arrangements, when they would travel and whom they would take. Jeannette, her mother’s maid, would accompany them, of course, and Miss Andover, known as Nan, who had been the girls’ governess but had agreed to take over the role of maid to the girls. They no longer needed a teacher and she had decided it was better than being pensioned off. Their coachman would drive them and Edward Grimble, the young groom, would ride Livvy’s mare, Zephyr. She positively refused to go without her horse and her mama would not let her ride her all the way to London herself.

‘What about you?’ James asked Beth. ‘Do you wish to have your mount brought to town?’

Beth wished she could suggest Toby rode her horse to London, then at least she would have some sensible company, someone to talk to. They might even go to Kew Gardens together, but she knew it was too much to ask. He would not leave his work in the garden; nature could not wait on her whims. ‘I will be quite content with a hired hack, Uncle, thank you,’ she said. Wealthy as he was, and however extensive the stables at Dersingham Park, his country seat, he did not keep many horses in London.

‘Then shall we say ten days from now? You will be there right at the beginning of the season.’

‘And shall we be invited to the coronation?’ Livvy asked.

‘Oh, Livvy, surely you do not want to attend that,’ Beth put in. ‘All that dressing up in the heat of the summer and standing about for hours and hours and for what?’

‘To see the King and Queen crowned, of course.’

‘If her Majesty is allowed anywhere near the ceremony,’ Beth added. She held no brief for the Royal family, what with the King’s numerous affairs and his efforts to discredit his wife so that he could divorce her and not have her acknowledged as Queen. He had failed in that and Caroline was still the Queen, though King George refused to have anything to do with her and she lived in a separate establishment. Now the question was, would she be crowned with him?

‘You will be going, Uncle James, won’t you?’ Livvy queried.

‘I shall have no choice, not only because every aristocrat in the land will be expected to attend, but I am on his Majesty’s staff and involved in the arrangements.’ It was why he had been obliged to leave his country estate earlier than usual to take up residence in London.

‘In that case, why take on the extra responsibility of bringing us out?’ Beth asked.

‘That, my dear Beth, will be a pleasure and a privilege.’

Beth felt she was being propelled willy-nilly into something she knew was going to be a disaster. She would have to pretend to enjoy herself or her mother would be hurt and her uncle annoyed, yet it was not in her nature to be anything but honest; pretending would come hard. And she would be leaving Beechgrove just when everything was coming into growth, all the plants and seedlings being planted out, and the rare specimens that Toby had been nurturing would be showing their worth.

‘But, dearest, they will all still be here at the end of the Season,’ her mother said when she tried to explain how she felt. Harriet had come to her daughter’s room to say goodnight as she did every night and was sitting on the bed beside Beth. It was a precious time when they talked companionably together and problems were ironed out. ‘It is not as if you are going away for ever. Even if you find a husband, you will still come home to be married from here.’

‘I cannot imagine finding a husband among the fops who lounge about town ogling the young ladies being paraded like cattle at market.’

‘They are not all like that. I met your papa during my come-out Season and he was certainly not a fop. He was handsome and intelligent and not at all affected.’

‘You were lucky.’

‘Who is not to say you will not be lucky too? And if you meet no one to your liking, then there is no harm done. You will be out and that will make it easier for you to go out and about when you spend another Season in town.’

‘Yes, Mama.’

‘Tomorrow, we shall go into Sudbury and have Madame Bonchance make up travelling clothes for us. The rest of our shopping can wait until we arrive. The Duke has offered to pay our bills. Is that not kind of him?’

‘Why? We are not poor relations, are we?’

‘No, not exactly poor, dearest, but nothing like as rich as your uncle. Not rich at all, if truth be told. I have never bothered you with things like that before, but now I must confess that the money your dear father left us has been sadly depleted by the needs of the estate and his investments have not performed as well as they might. We need to be frugal.’

‘Does that mean we have no dowries?’

‘Oh, nothing as bad as that. James will provide your dowries, that has always been understood.’

‘Would it not be better to forgo the come-out and let me earn a living?’

‘Good heavens, no! Whatever made you think that? It would not look well at all, especially for your uncle. He would not have it said he was too close to look after his sister’s children.’ She paused suddenly, a small frown creasing her brow. ‘Has Toby been filling your head with nonsense about working for a living?’

‘No, not at all, Toby’s not like that. He has always behaved properly. But, Mama, he has to work, so does his father and all the servants and they seem content enough.’

‘I doubt it. And it is not the same thing at all. They were born to it, they know that is their lot in life, but you never were. I am beginning to wish I had said nothing to you…’

Beth flung her arms about her mother. ‘Oh, Mama, we have always been able to talk to each other and I would hate it if you felt you could not tell me things.’

Harriet kissed her daughter’s brow. ‘Then let us be thankful for what we have. And, Beth, there is no need to say anything to Livvy…’

‘No, of course not. Our secret.’

Her mother left and Beth blew out the candle, but she did not fall asleep immediately. She could not stop thinking about her mother’s confession and wondering how much of a difference it would make to her life. Would she have to accept an offer of marriage simply because it came from a rich man who could maintain Beechgrove in the old way? And if she did not, did it mean that some of the servants would have to be let go? Mama had not replaced the last chambermaid who had left to be married. Would Toby have to go? Her private dream, the one in which she offered to finance his plant-hunting trip on condition he took her with him, was no more than that: a pipe dream. It made her want to cry, not only for herself but for Toby too. Would a rich husband serve the same purpose? She thumped her pillow angrily. The time had not yet come when she would stoop to that.

The Duke, after riding round the estate with Mr Kendall, left about midday and in the afternoon the girls accompanied their mother to the dressmaker in Sudbury, their nearest town, and bespoke travelling gowns and accessories for their journey to London, which they were promised would be ready in good time.

It was the following day before Beth was able to escape to the potting shed where she expected to find Toby at work. He was nowhere to be seen.

She was about to turn back to the house, but changed her mind. She had come to talk to Toby about the latest developments in her life and she did not want to go back without unburdening herself to him. She set off for Orchard House, where he lived with his father on the edge of the estate.

‘Is Toby here?’ she asked when Mr Kendall answered the door himself. He was a well-educated man who had been estate manager since before her father died, and Beth knew her mother set great store by him, trusting him implicitly. In his turn, he worked assiduously to keep the wheels of Beechgrove turning. Beth had assumed it was an easy task, but, since her mother’s revelation, she knew he must be finding it increasingly difficult. Poor Toby would never set off on his travels unless a miracle happened. She was as sad for him as she was for herself having to go through the charade of choosing a husband.

‘No, Miss Elizabeth, he’s gone.’

It was then she noticed the bleakness in his grey eyes and the downturned mouth. What had happened? ‘What do you mean, gone?’ she asked.

‘Left. Gone on his travels. To Calcutta.’ It was obviously not something that pleased the man who faced her.

‘But how could he? The day before yesterday he was saying he did not know how he was ever going to manage it. What has happened?’

‘Miss Elizabeth, I think you should go home.’

‘I will when you have told me what this is all about. How can he have packed up and gone at a moment’s notice? There are any number of things waiting to be done in the garden and glasshouse, he surely would not have left them to someone else.’

‘He has. Pershore’s lad has been given instructions.’

‘I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t go like that, certainly not without saying goodbye to me. And his instruction would have been to me. He would trust me to follow them implicitly.’

‘It’s all for the best,’ he said wearily.

It was then that enlightenment dawned. Toby had been banished; it was not his choice. ‘Who sent him away?’ she demanded. ‘And why?’

‘Go home, Miss Elizabeth, please. It is not fitting you should be here. Put your questions to your mama.’

What did her mother know of it? A little seed of suspicion began to grow in her mind. ‘I will. Thank you, Mr Kendall.’

She could hardly wait to see her mother and dashed up to her boudoir and flung open the door. Her mother looked up from the letter she was writing to confront a daughter whose dark eyes blazed angrily. ‘Beth, what is the matter?’

‘Toby has gone.’

‘Yes, I know. He has always wanted to travel to find new plants and the opportunity arose—’

‘Very suddenly it seems,’ Beth interrupted her. ‘So suddenly he was not even allowed to say goodbye to me.’

‘It was for the best.’

‘That’s what Mr Kendall said. I want to know what he meant.’

‘Sit down, Beth, and calm yourself.’

Beth took a deep breath and sank on to a stool close to her mother’s chair. ‘I am calm.’

Harriet smiled. Calm her daughter certainly was not, but she was waiting for an answer and deserved one. ‘You know Toby has always said he wanted to go plant hunting?’

‘Of course I do, I was the one who told you that.’

‘Well, he has been given the opportunity to go and it was too good to miss.’

‘But, Mama, he’s gone without me.’

‘Of course he has. You did not seriously think you would be allowed to go with him, did you?’

Beth stared at her. ‘He’s been sent away from me, hasn’t he? I wondered what you meant when you asked me if he had been filling my head with ideas about working for a living. You were afraid I might…What exactly did you think I might do, Mama? Elope with him?’

‘No, of course not,’ Harriet answered so swiftly that Beth knew that she had unwittingly hit the nail on the head. ‘But you must admit you have been seeing a lot of him and I believe it is because of him you are so against having a come-out…’

‘That has nothing to do with Toby.’

‘Nevertheless, a little time apart might be beneficial…’

‘And what did Toby say?’

‘He understood.’

‘The traitor!’

Harriet smiled. ‘No, he was being sensible.’

‘Why didn’t he say goodbye to me? Did you forbid him to?’

‘No, that was his decision. No doubt he will write frequently to his father and Mr Kendall will give us all his news.’

Beth’s thoughts suddenly took a sharp turn. ‘But where did the money come from? After what you said…’

‘Beth…’

‘Uncle James! The Duke of Belfont is rich enough to buy people.’ She laughed harshly, a sound that made her mother wince. ‘It was all so unnecessary. I did not need separating from Toby. There was nothing untoward going on, or likely to. I have known him since I was a tiny child and he is like a brother to me. Did you not understand that?’

Harriett sighed, knowing that she had been wrong to confide her unease to James. Her brother had done what he thought was best, but they had made a real mull of it between them. ‘I’m sorry, Beth, truly sorry, but you must realise—’

‘Oh, I realise, Mama. I realise I am to have no say in how I live my life at all.’ And with that she fled to her own room, where she flung herself down on her bed and sobbed.

If she could not make her mother understand, who could she talk to? There was only one other person and that was Toby. But Toby had gone, left her without a word. Why had he been so easily persuaded? Oh, she knew that he had always wanted to go plant hunting and the temptation to accept whatever it was he had been offered must have been very great and she could hardly blame him for it. But why go without explaining himself to her or even saying goodbye? That was what hurt most, the abruptness of it. Uncle James must have been very persuasive. Had he given Toby to understand she knew about the offer beforehand? Did Toby think she did not care?

If it had been done openly, she could have been part of the planning, the deciding what luggage and equipment to take, the boxes and barrels for keeping plants in, the beeswax and special paper to preserve the seeds and prevent them going mouldy in the dampness of the ship’s hold on the journey home. They would have talked about the ship he would sail on, the area he would explore, the kind of plants he hoped to find, the journal he would keep and the reports he would send regularly to her. And he would have told her exactly what to do to look after the plants he had left behind. She would have waved him goodbye with a cheerful heart if that had been the case.

How far had he got? He wouldn’t have sailed yet because it would be necessary to stop off in London and equip himself and book a berth on a ship—no doubt an East Indiaman, which regularly made the journey back and forth between England and India. Could she catch him before he sailed, just to speak to him, to tell him that, if he had been banished, she had had no prior knowledge of it, to ask for instructions and say goodbye? She imagined his face lighting up at the sight of her. He would take her hand and lead her on board to show her his quarters and the equipment he had brought with him, and when the ship sailed she would return to the quay and watch until the vessel was out of sight.

The more she thought about it, the more possible it seemed. All she had to do was find out the name of the ship, take the stage to London and hire a cab to take her to the docks and there he would be! She knew she could not go with him, but it would be some compensation to be there when he set out and reassure him that she did not condone what her mother and uncle had done. Her tears dried on her cheeks. She scrambled to her feet and hurried down to the drawing room, where she found the newspaper she had seen her uncle reading after dinner two nights before.

She sat down and quickly scanned it for the shipping news. And there it was. The Princess Charlotte had arrived at the East India docks with a cargo of tea, spices and ornamental objects, and was due to depart again as soon as it had taken export goods, passengers and stores on board. The East India Company prided itself on its fast turnaround. But supposing, when she got there, Toby wasn’t sailing on the Princess Charlotte? What then? It would be a wild goose chase and she would have to turn round and come home. But what an adventure!

She sat, staring at the newsprint until the words danced in front of her eyes. Princess Charlotte sailing on the afternoon of the following day—dare she go? What would her mother say? But it wasn’t as if she was running away or anything like that, she was simply going to see a friend off on a journey, and then she would be back, almost before she was missed. Ought she to take a companion? But who? Miss Andover would treat her like a naughty child and report her to her mother, and none of the servants would agree to go with her for fear of losing their place. It was go alone or not at all.

She folded the paper and replaced it where she found it on the fender where it would undoubtedly be used for lighting the fire next morning, and hurried back to her room where she fetched out her purse and counted out the money she had. Her uncle had given each of the girls five guineas in order to buy fripperies before their trip to London and Beth had not spent hers. She also had the better part of a quarter’s pin money, which her mother had put into her hand at the end of March. It ought to be enough for the coach fare and a little to eat. She would not need an overnight stay because she would be coming straight back; coaches to and from Bury St Edmunds and Norwich called at Sudbury all the time. She smiled suddenly, wondering what her uncle would say when he knew his generosity had inadvertently made her journey possible.

How she managed to behave normally at dinner—which was taken at five o’clock, that being a compromise between town and country hours—she did not know. Afterwards she sat in the drawing room with her mother and Livvy, who was full of what she intended to do and see in London, most of which involved riding in the park, visiting Tattersalls to see the horses and going to the races and what young men they might meet. If anything could make Beth decide to go ahead with her plan, that was it. Once they arrived at Belfont House, there would be no more adventures. As soon as she could, she excused herself, saying she was tired and went up to her room. An early night was called for if she was to be up betimes.

It was a long time before she fell asleep, her mind was whirring with what she meant to do. If it had not been for her uncle sending Toby away in that high-handed fashion and that dreaded Season in London, which she looked upon as the end to all her freedom, she would never have contemplated it. It made her feel a little better about what she was doing, but only a little.

It was the dawn chorus just outside her window that woke her and she silently thanked the birds or she might have overslept and missed the coach. She sat at her escritoire to write a note to her mother, which she left on her pillow, and then dressed quickly in her father’s breeches and a clean shirt. There was also a full-skirted coat with huge flap pockets, years out of date, but she didn’t care about that—it would be safer to travel as a young man. The ensemble was completed with riding boots and a tricorne hat. She fastened her long hair up with combs and pulled the hat down over it. She put her purse containing her money in her coat pocket and opened her bedroom door.

There was no one about. She crept downstairs, aware of every creak of the treads, and the rattling of utensils coming from the kitchen where the scullery maid was beginning her day’s tasks. Carefully she withdrew the bolts on the front door, let herself out and sped down the drive.

It was only a short walk into Sudbury and Beth’s only concern was that no one should see her and recognise her, but, as it was not yet fully light, she thought her disguise would pass muster. She had never been in an inn before, had never travelled on a public coach, not even with an escort, never mind alone, and she was nervous. Pulling herself together and pretending nonchalance, she approached the ticket office and asked for a seat on the next coach to London. It was hardly in her hand when the coach arrived in a flurry of tooting horns, sweating horses and scurrying ostlers. The horses were changed, those passengers who had left their seats for refreshment and those starting their journey in Sudbury were called to their places and they were on their way.

It was only as they left the town behind, that Beth, squashed between a fat lady with a live chicken in a basket on her lap and a countryman in a shovel hat who had not washed in a year, began to appreciate the enormity of what she had done. It had seemed easy enough when she had been in her room at home, nursing a grievance against her mother and uncle, not to mention Toby himself; all she had to do was get on a coach and she would be conveyed to London. But now she was on her way, she was beset by doubts mixed with a good helping of guilt. Had her mother missed her? Had she understood the letter she left behind? Would she be very angry? Would she send someone after her? There would be no reason for that, she decided, considering she had made it clear in her letter that she would be back the following morning.

The other passengers were giving her some strange looks and she shrank back in her seat, wishing she could stop the coach and get off. Would the coachman let her off or would he say that she must go on to the next scheduled stop? She pretended to look out of the window at the hedgerows flashing past and chided herself for her lack of spirit. What was so frightening about travelling by stage coach? People did it all the time.

They rattled on, stopping now and again to change the horses and to put down and pick up new passengers, and just under seven hours after they set out, she was climbing down in the yard of the Spread Eagle in Piccadilly. She was hungry and considered going into the inn and ordering food, but nervousness overcame her again and she decided she could wait until she saw Toby. They would eat together while they talked.

‘Where do I go for a cab?’ she asked an ostler, who was carrying tack across the cobbles.

‘There’s a row of them in the street. Take your pick,’ he said, without stopping. She was inclined to be annoyed by his lack of courtesy, but then remembered she was supposed to be a boy and a young one too, considering her chin was as smooth as silk. She thanked him and went in search of a cab.

Half an hour later she was being deposited at the entrance to the East India docks. The smell of the river dominated everything and beyond the buildings that lined the dock, she could see the tall masts of ships lying at anchor. She walked forward slowly, unsure of herself. The quay was busy; dockers, sailors, passengers, luggage and mountains of stores vied for the available space. One ship was being unloaded, but another was almost ready for departure, judging by the seamen scurrying about on deck. The name on its side was Princess Charlotte. The gangplank had not yet been raised and she hurried to the foot of it, wondering if she dared climb aboard.

She became aware of a group of sailors watching her as she hesitated.

‘Running away to sea?’ one of them asked her suddenly.

‘No. I’m meeting a friend—’ She stopped suddenly because they were laughing.

‘Meeting a friend, eh?’ said the man, moving towards her, making her step back in alarm. ‘Now would that friend be going or coming?’

‘Going. On the Princess Charlotte.’

‘Then watch out you don’t get carried away alonga him. Pretty little boy like you would be welcome…’

She cringed away from him, frightened by their raucous laugh. If only Toby would come. She wondered whether to cut and run, but decided that would make matters worse and stood her ground.

Andrew Melhurst was directing the loading of his luggage from the customs shed on to a large flat wagon. It was extraordinary how much one accumulated in seven years of living abroad. He had pared it down to necessities before leaving, but there was still enough to fill the wagon. It had been dumped on the quay when the ship was unloaded, as if the shipping company, having conveyed it thus far, wanted nothing more to do with it. Too concerned about his grandfather’s health to bother with it right away, he had paid to have it stored in the customs shed and gone home, intending to send others back to fetch it for him.

He had been relieved to discover that old Lord Melhurst had rallied while he had been on the high seas and so he had decided it was safe to return with a couple of estate workers and hire a wagon to oversee the moving of his possessions himself. Besides the usual things like clothes and personal possessions, there were antiquities and stuffed animals and carefully wrapped seeds he had collected in the mountains of the Himalayas, which he hoped to propagate. He had also brought one or two plants, carefully packed in special containers, which he had taken home with him. Leaving them on the docks to be handled by hired help who would not understand the need for care would not have been a good idea.

He noticed the young lad standing at the foot of the gangplank facing a group of seamen because he looked so nervous. A new cabin boy, he surmised, judging by his slight figure and smooth cheeks. Too smooth, he decided, for the rough and tumble of life at sea. Had he been forced into it by an impatient parent in order to make a man of him, or was he running away to sea and thinking better of it? His clothes were very loose fitting and years out of date, but they had once been of fine quality. He was from a good family then, fallen on hard times perhaps. The seamen were obviously intending to have some sport with him and he was looking decidedly nervous.

He strolled over to them. ‘Let the young shaver be.’ It was said quietly, but with such authority he was instantly obeyed. ‘Go about your business.’

The men strolled away laughing, and the boy turned towards him. ‘Thank you, sir.’ The voice was high-pitched, not yet broken. ‘Am I too late to go on board?’

‘Not while the gangplank is still in place, though you need to be quick. You will probably get a roasting for being late.’

‘Roasting?’ she said, remembering to deepen her voice. ‘You mistake me, sir. I wish to speak to someone on board before the ship sails.’

‘Oh, I see.’ He looked closely at the oval face, the troubled brown eyes fringed by long silky lashes, the slight heaving of the bosom as he looked upwards. By God! It was not a he but a she and a very beautiful one. How could he have ever imagined that figure belonged to a cabin boy? Running after a lover, was she? Was the lover intent on escaping?

‘Is it permissible to go up there?’ She nodded in the direction of the deck.

‘I wouldn’t risk it if I were you,’ he said, thinking about the crew who, like the sailors she had already encountered, would undoubtedly have some fun with her, not to mention the humiliation of discovering her lover did not want her. ‘Tell me the name of the party and I will go and bring him to you. There might yet be time.’

‘Oh, would you?’ The smile she gave him was all woman. ‘His name is Toby Kendall. He is sailing as a passenger.’

He sprinted up the gangplank and had a word with the sailor who stood at the top, ready to give the signal for it to be hauled away. Beth watched him disappear. She kept her eyes glued to the rail, expecting to see Toby come running. Nothing happened. The activity on deck reached a crescendo as seamen swarmed up the rigging and spread themselves along the spars and someone ran to the last mooring rope, ready to cast off. Now she began to wonder if the man who had gone on her errand would be trapped on board and carried off to sea. Her heart was in her mouth.

She saw a movement, but it was not Toby running to greet her, but the man returning. Did that mean Toby was not on board? Had he boarded some other ship? Had he not gone at all? She was beginning to feel a thorough ninny.

‘Was he not there?’ she asked as the man rejoined her. Too late she forgot to lower the tone of her voice.

‘Oh, he is on board, Miss Harley, but he declined to come out to you.’

‘I don’t believe you!’ In her agitation she had not even noticed he had addressed her by name. ‘He wouldn’t refuse to see me.’

‘I am not in the habit of lying, Miss Harley.’

The emphasis he put on her name made her realise Toby had given her away. ‘You know who I am?’

‘Indeed I do.’ Behind him he heard the shouted commands, was aware that dockers were freeing the mooring rope and pulling the gangplank free. ‘The question is, what am I to do with you?’ The crack of sails being let down almost drowned his words.

‘What do you mean, do with me?’ The sails were filling and the ship was beginning to move. Sailors were scrambling down from aloft and, almost hidden behind a stanchion, she saw a familiar face. ‘Toby!’ she shouted, waving like mad.

He waved back. He was saying something, but she could not make out what it was. It was then she realised the predicament she was in. Toby had refused to see her, she was miles and miles from home, alone with a man who knew she was a girl. And he had said, ‘What am I to do with you?’ She had been nervous before, but now she was truly frightened. She looked about her. On one side was the river, murky and full of flotsam, on the other the warehouses, customs shed and chandlers that lined the docks. Dockers and seamen hurried back and forth, men driving lumbering carts, shabby women, ill-clothed barefoot children, a few better-dressed gentlemen, but not a single well-dressed lady. Certainly no cabs.

He must have realised she was considering flight, because he took her arm. ‘You had better come with me.’ And, though she resisted, he propelled her towards a carriage that stood a little way off, calling to the man by his wagon, ‘Simmonds, I’ll leave you to finish loading that and I’ll see you at home in due course.’

‘Let me go!’ Beth shouted, struggling with him so that her hat fell off and her long dark hair cascaded around her shoulders, making those around grin with amusement. Still holding her, he picked the hat up and crammed it back on her head.

‘Come on, I haven’t got time to argue.’ And with that he bundled her into the coach and climbed in behind her. ‘Back to town, Jerry, as fast as you like,’ he commanded his coachman.

Chapter Two

‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked, trying to push her unruly hair under the hat again as the carriage moved off. It was a luxurious vehicle, its seats padded in red velvet. The man who occupied the opposite seat was fashionably dressed in a well-cut tail coat of green kerseymere and coffee-coloured pantaloons tucked into polished Hessians. His cravat was tied in a simple knot. He was handsome too, fair haired and bronzed from living in a climate warmer than that of England. It seemed to emphasise the blueness of his eyes, which were looking at her with something akin to amusement. She wondered how old he was; nothing like as old as her Uncle James, who must be forty, or as young as Toby, who was only a year older than she was. Twenty-seven or eight perhaps.

‘Oh, do not fret, I have no designs on your person,’ he said.

‘Then let me go.’

‘That, I think, would be considered unchivalrous.’

‘No more unchivalrous than holding a lady against her wishes.’

‘If the lady has no idea of the danger she is in, then a gentleman has no choice.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Whatever made you think you could pass yourself off as a boy? A more feminine figure I have yet to meet.’ His eyes roamed appreciatively over her coat and breeches as he spoke. The only slightly masculine thing about her was her cut-down fingernails and the brownish stain along the cuticles. He was intrigued by them. ‘It is a good thing I intervened when I did.’

She remembered the sailors and shuddered. On the other hand, just because this man was well dressed, did it mean he was to be trusted? ‘I have already thanked you for that. If you really are a gentleman, then you would convey me to the nearest coaching inn where I might take a stage back home.’

‘Can’t do that, I am afraid.’ The last thing he wanted was to act the unwilling escort to a spoiled young miss not long out of the schoolroom. He liked his women mature and experienced, so that they both knew where they stood. They could enjoy each other without the complication of broken hearts and dreams of weddings. It was how he had survived since leaving England seven years before. Silently he cursed young Kendall for landing him with this one. He had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Half an hour’s difference and he would have come and gone, or she would have gone on board and spoken to Kendall herself. The young man would have had to leave the ship to look after her. Now here he was acting the knight errant and the young man she had pursued was sailing away.

‘I beg you to look after her,’ he had said. ‘Take her to her uncle, the Duke of Belfont, and try to smooth her way, for I fear his Grace will be very angry.’ An irresponsible stripling, a self-willed young madam and an angry Duke—what had he done to deserve being saddled with their problems?

He turned a little in his seat so that he could see her properly. She had taken off that monstrous hat and was trying unsuccessfully to put her hair up with combs. It was beautiful hair, thick and dark and gleaming with good health. Her eyes, beneath winged brows, were a deep amber and her mouth was full and generous with a chin that was jutting proudly. Considering her dishevelled state and the strange garb she wore, that was quite a feat.

‘Shall we start again?’ he queried. He had a lop-sided kind of smile, she noticed, which made her want to smile back, but she was determined not to do so. It would make him think she approved of his high-handed abduction of her. ‘Let me introduce myself. My name is Andrew Melhurst. I have lately returned to England after some years abroad.’

Oh, so he was a nabob, a nobody grown rich in the subcontinent and come home to flaunt his wealth. The chests and boxes she had seen being loaded on to the wagon, the sumptuous coach and the expensive diamond that glittered in his cravat, bore that out. ‘Mr Kendall told you my name, but what else did he tell you?’

‘Very little, Miss Harley, there was no time. But he did make it clear he had not asked you to come and he would deem it a favour if I would see you safely home.’

‘You think I ran away to go with him, don’t you?’

‘It matters little what I think. Perhaps you should be more concerned by what the rest of the world thinks. If this little escapade becomes known, you would find your reputation in tatters. Mine too, I fear.’

‘Oh.’ She knew she had made a dreadful mess of everything. What had made her think her disguise was good enough to deceive? Oh, Toby was always laughing and saying she was more boy than girl and her mother had said how startled she had been when she first saw her in her father’s breeches, but that was not enough to pass muster with the man who sat opposite her, regarding her with his bright intelligent eyes. And not only him, the passengers in the coach from Sudbury had looked at her strangely and she was sure those rough sailors had realised she was not a boy. She was lucky to have come this far without being molested and the prospect of returning home in the same way was more than a little frightening. The fact that this stranger had seen fit to point it out to her did not help. ‘It is your own fault, you did not need to intervene at all.’

‘You know, you are right, I wonder why I did.’

‘Because Toby asked you to, I suppose.’

‘There is that, but I am not accustomed to doing the bidding of strangers, so it must be that I am a gentleman and gentlemen do not leave ladies in dangerous predicaments when it is their power to help. Now, what about my suggestion that we start again in a more civilised fashion? I know your name, I know you are the niece of the Duke of Belfont, but nothing more.’ He smiled suddenly and, in spite of herself, she found herself breathing a sigh of relief and smiling back. ‘Suppose you tell me why you set out on this adventure. I cannot believe you meant to worry your family to death.’

‘No, I did not. And I was not running away or trying to elope or anything foolish like that. I simply wanted to say goodbye to Toby, to find out—’ She stopped suddenly, knowing her reasons would sound foolish.

‘To find out what?’

‘Oh, it is too complicated…’

‘We have plenty of time. I am not letting you out of this coach until we reach Belfont House.’

‘Oh, you are never taking me to Uncle James, he will be furious.’

‘With good cause, I imagine. But where else should I take you? Is that not your home?’

‘No. I live with my mother and sister just outside Sudbury.’

‘Sudbury! How did you get from there to here?’

‘By stagecoach and cab, how else?’

She was not lacking in courage, he decided. ‘I think you had better tell me everything from the beginning.’

She sighed. ‘I suppose I had or you will dump me on his Grace’s doorstep and leave me to his wrath.’

He did not bother to tell her he would not ‘dump’ her anywhere, but as for taking her as far as Sudbury, he hadn’t bargained on doing that, even though it was not far out of his way. ‘Go on,’ he said quietly.

So she told him everything: her love of botany, instilled in her by Joshua, and Toby who had been her friend and playmate since childhood, her longing to go plant hunting, to have adventures, though after today she was not so sure she was as intrepid as she had thought she was. And the unfeeling way that Toby had been sent away, simply because her uncle wanted to stop her dreaming and turn her into a conventional débutante.

He smiled. ‘I do not think you will ever be that,’ he said, doing his best not to laugh. He looked at her, wondering if she was too proud to laugh at herself, and was relieved when her efforts to remain stern failed and a broad smile creased her face and showed him perfect white teeth. In a moment they were both laughing aloud.

‘It is not funny,’ she said, fishing for a handkerchief in her coat pocket to dab her streaming eyes.

‘Then why are you laughing?’

‘I do not know. To stop myself crying, perhaps.’

‘Do you want to cry?’

‘I think I was very near to it.’

‘Oh, how thankful I am that you desisted. I cannot abide weeping women.’

Suddenly embarrassed, she turned from him and looked out of the window. It was beginning to grow dusk and she could not see more than dark buildings lining the road and the light shining from some of their windows. This part of the great metropolis had no street lighting. Once again she became aware of her predicament. She did not like being beholden to him, but there was no doubt that, if she had been left on the docks, she would have had to make her way back to town through these unlit streets. ‘Much as I would like to deny it, I am in your hands, so what do you propose to do with me?’

‘Take you to your uncle, the Duke.’

‘Oh, no! He will give me a roasting.’

‘And do you not think you deserve it?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘There is no perhaps about it. But I cannot take you all the way to Sudbury. That would mean being in each other’s company throughout the night and even you must agree that would not be the thing. It would only need someone to see you, someone to ask questions about your absence from home, someone to recognise the Melhurst carriage, for the tattlers to start work on your reputation and my good name.’

‘You could put me on a coach.’

‘I have told you no.’ His answer was almost snapped. He would be every sort of bounder if he did that. His conscience would not allow it.

‘Supposing I insist?’

‘Insist away. I shall not allow you to leave this vehicle until we are safely at Belfont House.’

She fell silent, thinking of her uncle. He had been cross enough when he had seen her in her male clothes in the garden at home—he would be furious knowing she had ventured abroad thus dressed. ‘If it must be Belfont House,’ she said, ‘could you contrive to speak to my Aunt Sophie and not the Duke? She will help me, I know. I have heard she was once a little unconventional herself, before she married my uncle, that is.’

‘Because I do not think I should like to see you roasted, I will endeavour to do as you ask, but I make no promises and, if her Grace should deem it necessary to send for the Duke, I shall have nothing to say on the matter. After all, I do not know whether you make a habit of disappearing dressed as a male and if your family are out of patience with you.’

‘I don’t. I have never done it before.’ She paused and added softly, ‘Thank you, sir.’

They spent the remainder of the short journey talking about travel, about where he had been and the sights he had seen, the heat and smells of India. When she asked about plant hunting, he told her that it was far from a stroll in the garden; it needed meticulous planning and provisioning, with hired guides and porters and, if one was sensible, a medical man because bites, scratches, falls and bad food were commonplace. And that did not take into account the voyage, which might be beset by storms or being becalmed. If he thought that might put her off the idea, he was wrong, but she did admit that if she travelled it would have to be in a properly conducted party with a knowledgeable escort. ‘Though how that can be arranged I do not know,’ she said. ‘Toby said I should marry a rich man—’ She stopped suddenly, realising what she had said.

‘That would indeed be the solution,’ he said, noting her discomfort, but pretending he did not. ‘All the more reason to go ahead with your come-out, don’t you think?’

She sighed, knowing he was right, but determined that her dreams of travel would not influence her choice of husband. If there was a choice, of course. She might be considered too much of a hoyden to attract the sort of man who inhabited the drawing rooms of the ton. That was why she was so fond of Toby; he took her as she was.

It was completely dark when the carriage drew to a halt outside a large mansion in South Audley Street, but here there were street lights and lanterns alight at each side of the imposing front door. ‘Stay out of sight,’ he commanded her. ‘While I see how the land lies.’

He jumped down and strode to the door and knocked. The duty footman must have heard the carriage because the door was opened almost immediately. ‘I wish to speak to the Duchess,’ Andrew said. ‘On a matter of some importance.’

The footman looked him up and down, as if wondering if he ought to admit a lone caller so late at night. ‘Your name, sir?’

‘Melhurst. Mr Andrew Melhurst.’

‘I will see if her Grace is at home, Mr Melhurst, but without an appointment…’ He allowed his voice to fade to nothing.

‘It is of the utmost importance.’

The man ushered him in, then turned and slowly and deliberately climbed the cantilevered staircase with its ornate cast-iron balustrade to the first floor, while Andrew stood and fumed. He hoped Miss Harley would not take it into her head to leave the carriage. The house was one of a row and she could be been seen by neighbours if they should happen to glance out of a window. And there were people in the street going about their business. He had no idea how well known she was in the neighbourhood.

A few minutes later, the servant returned. ‘Please follow me, Mr Melhurst.’

The Duchess received him in a first-floor drawing room of elegant proportions. He bowed, surprised to see how young she was, twenty-seven or eight at the most, he decided. ‘Mr Melhurst, has something happened to the Duke?’ she asked, her voice betraying her anxiety. ‘Do tell me quickly, for I cannot bear the suspense.’

‘No, your Grace, I have never met the Duke. It is concerning your niece, Miss Harley.’

Her obvious relief was followed by concern. ‘Beth? If you have come to make an offer for her, Mr Melhurst, then I suggest you apply to the Duke in the morning. It is late—’

‘You mistake me, your Grace. I have not come to offer for her. I have her in my carriage outside this house. She has, I regret to say, fallen into a bumblebath, from which I am endeavouring to rescue her. She needs a safe haven—’

‘She has never run away from home. Oh, dear, the foolish girl…’

‘She assures me that was not her intention.’

‘Why did you leave her outside? Fetch her in at once.’

‘She is anxious not to encounter the Duke, but I collect he is from home.’

‘Yes, but that is not to say he will not be told.’

He bowed. ‘That, your Grace, is for you to decide. I am merely bringing her home. Could I ask for a cloak? It would not be sensible for her to be seen entering the house as she is.’

‘Mr Melhurst, you alarm me. What is the matter with her?’

‘Nothing, but she is dressed as a young man.’

To his surprise she started to laugh. ‘Oh, dear, I know she likes to do that at home in her garden and very fetching she looks too, but if you are bringing her home you must have found her somewhere else. Unless she inveigled you into her mischief?’

‘I am relieved you do not think it was the other way about, your Grace. And she did not inveigle me. On the contrary, she fought to get away. I could not allow that. The docks are hardly the place for well brought-up young ladies, especially at night.’

‘Did you say docks, Mr Melhurst?’

‘Yes, the East India docks. That was where I found her, looking for a young man called Toby Kendall.’

‘Oh, now I begin to see. The Duke financed Mr Kendall’s ambition to become a plant hunter. Surely she did not think she could go too? Oh, the foolish, foolish girl. But we must not leave her sitting outside. Please wait here, while I fetch her.’

Before he could find a suitable reply to tell her he would leave as soon as Miss Harley was safely indoors, she had sailed from the room in a froth of silk and lace. He paced the room, looking at the ornaments and pictures. The pictures were mostly by modern artists like Turner, Girtin, Constable and Lawrence, though there was a Gainsborough, which he assumed was of an earlier Duke and his family. A couple of classical vases on a shelf he recognised as Wedgwood. Miss Harley definitely came from a well-breeched family. She was undoubtedly spoiled, though if he were honest he would have to admit that she had a lively mind and an articulate way of expressing herself. In the short ride from the docks he had been more entertained than he had been for some time.

He heard the front door shut and voices in the hall, and then the Duchess, smiling broadly, put her head round the door. ‘I am going to take Miss Harley upstairs and hand her over to my maid. Please don’t go away. I haven’t thanked you properly.’ And, for a second time, she disappeared before he could politely take his leave.

Sophie conducted Beth up to the second floor and into her small private boudoir, where her maid appeared from an adjoining room. ‘Rose, we must find my niece something to wear.’ She pulled off the burnous in which Beth was shrouded, which evinced a gasp of shock from the servant and made Sophie smile, though Beth was far from smiling. Sitting alone in the coach, waiting for Mr Melhurst to come back, she had had time to think and thinking had not made her feel any easier about her little adventure. It was not so much an adventure as an escapade of the sort that schoolboys indulged in and if she got away with no more than a scolding she would count herself fortunate.

While the maid bustled about opening cupboard doors and searching for clothes, Sophie sat Beth down. ‘Now, tell me what possessed you to run away from home like that? Did you not think of your poor Mama, and Livvy, worrying about you? And not only your safety, which would certainly worry them, but the scandal. What do you suppose it would do to James if the King ever heard of it?’

‘I was not running away,’ Beth said. ‘I simply went to say goodbye to Toby; if Uncle James had not sent him away so suddenly that he could not tell me he was going, I never would have done it.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I wish I had not. I did not see Toby. He told Mr Melhurst he did not want to see me, though I only have Mr Melhurst’s word for that…’

‘Surely you are not suggesting Mr Melhurst would tell you an untruth? Goodness, Beth, he did not have to take you up and bring you home, he was not obliged to do anything for you. But he did, no matter the inconvenience to himself.’

‘I know and I am thankful. I told him so, but he did not have to be so insufferably top-lofty about it…’ She paused as Rose came towards her bearing a green silk gown trimmed with pale green lace and cream-coloured ribbon.

‘I think this will fit you, Miss Harley.’

‘Very suitable,’ Sophie said. ‘Now, change quickly before anyone else sees you.’

‘What are you going to tell Uncle James?’

Sophie looked at her with her head on one side, smiling a little. ‘What should you like me to tell him?’

‘I wish he need not know I am here. Then, perhaps tomorrow, you can arrange for someone to escort me home. I will keep out of sight, I promise. No one need know I have ever been here.’ She was stripping off the sadly crumpled suit as she spoke.

‘And your punishment?’

‘Anything but a jobation from Uncle James. I will be the dutiful niece and daughter for the whole Season, I promise.’

Sophie laughed. ‘I should not make promises you cannot keep, Beth.’ She watched as Rose helped her into the dress. ‘Goodness, I have left Mr Melhurst all alone. I must go down and thank him and offer him refreshment. Come down when you are ready and let him see you are really a lady, and thank him yourself for taking such good care of you.’

Beth did not want to face him again, she would die with mortification. Perhaps if she dawdled over her toilette he would tire of waiting and take his leave, no doubt glad to be rid of her.

Andrew was examining a portrait of the Duchess by Frances Corringham, an artist he did not know, which he found particularly pleasing for its delicate attention to detail, when he heard the door open behind him. Assuming it was the Duchess returning, he turned to find himself facing a small boy in a nightshirt. His feet were bare and his hair was tousled, as if he had just woken.

‘Hello,’ the young one said. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Andrew Melhurst. And whom do I have the honour of addressing?’

‘I am Viscount James Dersingham. The Duke of Belfont is my father.’ It was said proudly but not, Andrew noted, arrogantly. ‘I am six.’

Andrew, to humour him, gave him an elaborate bow. ‘At your service, my lord.’

Jamie giggled. ‘You may call me Jamie, if you like.’

‘Thank you. Does your mama know you are out of bed?’

‘I could not sleep. I heard the door knocker and voices. I came to see who had called.’

‘And now you have satisfied your curiosity, do you not think you should return to your bed?’

Jamie ignored that suggestion. ‘Why are you here? It is the middle of the night.’

‘Not quite,’ Andrew said, glancing at the ornate clock on the mantelpiece which told him it was half past nine.

‘Where is my mama?’

‘Yes, where is she?’ a masculine voice enquired.

Andrew turned to confront a gentleman in impeccable evening attire who could only be the Duke of Belfont. Before he could do more than bow, young Jamie had flung himself at his father, who picked him up. ‘Jamie, why are you not in bed?’

‘I heard the door knocker and cousin Beth’s voice, so I came to see her. Why is she dressed in those funny clothes, Papa?’

‘I think you must be mistaken, son, she is not arriving until next week. I told you that, did I not?’

‘Yes, but she must have come early.’

James strode to the door and called the footman who hovered in the hall. ‘Take Master Jamie to his nurse, Foster. Tell her to put him back to bed.’ As soon as the boy had been led away James turned to Andrew, who had been listening in acute discomfort. ‘Now, sir, who are you and what are you doing here?’

‘My name is Andrew Melhurst, my lord Duke, lately back from India. I arrived on the Princess Charlotte…’ He paused, wondering how to go on.

‘Melhurst,’ the Duke put in. ‘Relation to Baron Melhurst of Heathlands near Newmarket, are you?’

‘Yes, his grandson.’

‘I know him. He was a friend of my father’s. How is he?’

‘He has been ill, which was why I returned to England, but he is recovering.’ He paused. ‘I met a young man on board, a Mr Toby Kendall.’

‘Ah, I begin to see. He was going as you were coming.’

‘Exactly.’

‘And you have a commission from him to me.’

‘Yes, your Grace.’

‘What did the young bounder want? I have dealt very generously with him and cannot think what else he may require…’

Andrew was nonplussed. ‘Your Grace,’ he began and then stopped, before taking a breath and continuing, ‘He desired me to thank you.’

James laughed. ‘Be blowed to that for a tale. Come on, man, the truth, if you please.’ He stopped and then added, ‘What was my son saying about his cousin Beth being here? Is Miss Harley here?’

‘Oh, James, do not blame Mr Melhurst. He has been the epitome of good sense and discretion.’

James swung round at the sound of his wife’s voice. ‘My dear, I was not blaming him—how could I when I have no idea what I have to blame him for? But, now you are here, perhaps you will put the poor man out of his unease and explain what has happened.’

Sophie went to her husband and took his hand. ‘Sit down, James, and you too, Mr Melhurst, we cannot converse properly if everyone is standing. I have ordered refreshments. Poor Mr Melhurst has been too busy on our behalf to eat.’

‘Sophie, do not prevaricate,’ he admonished, though he did as she suggested and sat down beside her, motioning to Andrew to take a chair opposite them. ‘Tell me what has happened.’

‘It’s Beth…’

‘So she is here?’

‘Yes, but do not interrupt, or I shall lose the thread of what I am saying.’

‘Go on.’ It was said quietly, but Andrew could tell that the Duke was not used to being thwarted and would have the truth. He wished devoutly that he could excuse himself and half-rose, but her Grace, seeing this, waved him down again. Perhaps she needed moral support, though she seemed perfectly at ease with her husband.

‘James, you sent that boy off on his travels without telling Beth and—’

‘That was the whole point, to separate them, you know that. Their association was becoming unhealthy.’

‘Fustian! They are friends, more like brother and sister, and she wanted to be part of his adventures—’

‘Good God! She did not think she could go too, did she?’

‘No, of course not. She wanted to be part of the planning, to say goodbye to him and see him off. She was afraid he might think she had connived at sending him away so abruptly and she wished to reassure him…’

‘So, what did she do?’

She took a deep breath. ‘She dressed as a boy and took the stage to London and a cab to the docks.’

‘Harriet would never so far forget herself as to allow that—’ He stopped speaking suddenly. ‘Oh, I see, Harriet did not know. So, what was Miss Andover doing?’

‘She didn’t know of it either. Beth travelled alone.’

‘Good God!’ he said again. He turned to Andrew. ‘And how came you to be involved, sir?’

‘I saw her endeavouring to board the ship, your Grace, and undertook to acquaint Mr Kendall of her presence. He told me he thought she had followed him in order to share his adventure and of course he knew that was not to be thought of and asked me to bring her here.’

‘You knew she was not a boy?’

‘Almost immediately.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘She looked very fetching, but I do not think anyone could be deceived.’

At that point two servants arrived with trays, one bearing an urn and all the accoutrements for making tea and the other some plates laden with cakes and pastries, which were set down on a table beside the Duchess. The conversation was halted as she set about offering their guest food and drink. She took a cup of tea for herself, but the Duke declined.

James watched Andrew dealing politely with his wife and wished it could have been anyone but Andrew Melhurst who had found Beth. The man had left England after a scandal of some sort, though he could not remember the details, but if past follies were attached to this present situation, he feared for Beth’s reputation.

‘Were you seen?’ he asked.

Andrew, in the middle of biting into a delicious honey-filled pastry, gave him a sharp look. The Duke was only echoing what he himself had said to Miss Harley, but it was one thing to acknowledge the problem to himself and mention it to her, quite another when someone else pointed it out to him as if it had all been his fault. ‘The docks were very busy, your Grace, I have no idea who saw us. I hope no one of importance…’

‘And when you arrived here?’

‘Oh, James, do not quiz the poor man like that,’ Sophie said. ‘He has done his best to do the right thing and bring Beth to us. He left her in the carriage and I went out with a cloak to fetch her in. No one saw us.’

James, who had been prepared to dislike the man, found himself revising his earlier opinion. A less scrupulous man might have taken advantage of the situation. ‘Then I must thank you, sir, for your discretion. If her reputation was to be sullied by this adventure, I fear she would find it difficult to take her place in society and make her curtsy. As for finding a husband…’ He stopped, realising he had been thinking aloud and such problems were nothing to do with the man who faced him. ‘I am sorry, it is not your fault you have been unwittingly caught up in our problems.’

‘If Miss Harley’s good name is brought into question, then I will do the honourable thing, your Grace.’ Whatever made him say that? Andrew asked himself. The idea of marrying the lady had never crossed his mind until the words came out of his mouth.

James smiled. No doubt he would. The niece of one of England’s foremost Dukes would be quite a catch for the grandson of a mere baron. ‘I do not think that will be necessary,’ he said quite sharply and then relented. ‘I mean…you have managed to bring her here with the minimum of fuss and we can find a way of accounting for her arrival ahead of her mother and sister. All will be well, I am sure.’

‘But we do, indeed, thank you,’ the Duchess put in, smiling. ‘I had expected Beth to come down and thank you herself…’

‘She has thanked me already,’ Andrew said. ‘I would not wish to put her to the blush by having to repeat it. I did only what any gentleman worthy of the name would do.’ He put his cup down and rose to bring the interview to an end. He felt uncomfortable, as if he were being quizzed as a potential suitor, when all he had wanted to do was hand over the hoyden and take his leave.

The Duchess rose too. ‘Mr Melhurst, are you, by chance, on your way to your grandfather’s house? I collect it is near Newmarket.’

‘Yes, your Grace.’

She smiled. ‘And no doubt hoped to be halfway there by now.’

Andrew bowed to acknowledge the truth of this. ‘It is of no consequence,’ he said politely.

‘I hesitate to ask another favour of you,’ she began, making her husband look sharply at her, eyebrows raised in enquiry. ‘But I know my sister-in-law will be beside herself with worry. Would you, could you, call at Beechgrove on your way and set her mind at rest? I know it is an imposition—if it is inconvenient, please say so.’

‘It will be my pleasure, your Grace.’ He endeavoured to sound cheerful about it. It was not so much that it would mean taking a small detour, but that he would still be embroiled in the doings of Miss Elizabeth Harley and at the beck and call of the Duke and Duchess of Belfont. Were they so pessimistic about finding the chit a husband they had to drag one in off the street? He felt as though he were being used and he did not like the feeling at all.

‘Please tell Lady Harley that we will keep Beth here with us,’ the Duchess went on. ‘But it would be advisable if she were to bring forward her own arrival in London so that it may look as though they all arrived together.’

‘I will do that, your Grace,’ he said and took his leave before she could suggest any other errands for him to do.

He passed out of the room and on to the gallery. He paused outside the door, thankful to have escaped, and made for the top of the stairs to the ground floor. A movement, a sound—he was not afterwards sure which it was—made him look up. Above him, at the head of the stairs, stood a vision in green, one hand on the balustrade, one slippered foot poised above the top step, ready to descend. This was no hoyden dressed in male attire, no untidy miss with dark hair tumbling down beneath an over-large tricorne hat, this was a woman of poise and breathtaking loveliness. The gown swirled about her legs, its tightly fitted bodice revealing a figure no less than perfect. Her hair had been twisted up into coils that emphasised a pale and slender neck. She was staring down at him, as if uncertain whether to descend.

He smiled and bowed. ‘Miss Harley, your obedient.’

‘Mr Melhurst.’ Her foot went back beside the other one. She did not want to go down to him, did not want the humiliation of having to express her gratitude all over again. It would not have been so bad if he had not been so insufferably arrogant. But she could not turn away. His eyes, appraising her, held her mesmerised.

A servant came along the corridor and disappeared into the room he had just left and in a flash she had fled and he was left staring at nothing. Smiling, he descended to the ground floor where the footman who had admitted him rose from his chair to open the front door for him.

He continued to smile as he was driven away. He had been wrong to think of Miss Harley as a chit, only lately out of the schoolroom; it was that strange garb which had made her seem so young. In that exquisite dress she looked poised and mature enough to be already out. There was no need for the Duke and Duchess to drag suitors in from the street, they must be flocking round her. His amused condescension had taken a strange and disturbing turn. He found himself wishing he was not heading for Newmarket.

‘Sophie, whatever were you thinking of, asking Mr Melhurst to go to Beechgrove?’ James asked. ‘I could have sent a courier with a note. We are indebted to him enough as it is.’

‘Oh, he did not mind.’

‘Whether he minded or not, is not the point. Why did you do it?’

‘He is a very fine gentleman, don’t you think? And aware of the delicacy of the situation. And servants talk…’

‘Not ours, or they would not be in my employ.’

She ignored that. ‘And he did offer.’

‘To go to Beechgrove? I did not hear him say so, until you asked him.’

‘Not to go to Beechgrove, I did not mean that. I heard you talking to him before I came in. He said he would do the honourable thing.’

‘You did not take that seriously, surely?’

‘Why not? He is handsome and wealthy, judging by the equipage he arrived in, and your father knew his grandfather, so he must be of some consequence.’

‘What is that to the point? We know nothing about him. I seem to remember some scandal which made it necessary for him to leave the country.’

‘Pooh, to that. You forget my papa had to do the same thing and you did not hold that against me.’

He laughed. ‘That was not your fault.’

‘And whatever it is may not have been Mr Melhurst’s fault. You should not judge him before you know the truth, James.’

He laughed suddenly. ‘And supposing Beth is not compliant. She is a true Dersingham and a more stubborn one I have yet to meet. She will not be driven.’

‘Oh, James, credit me with a little more sense than that. I am merely making it possible for the acquaintanceship to blossom. Harriet is bound to be grateful and will invite him to call again.’

‘On the other hand, the gentleman might consider Beth too much of a hoyden for his taste and decline.’

‘He has seen the worst of her and now we must show him the best. I do not consider Beth a hoyden, she is intelligent and spirited and very beautiful when she is properly dressed.’

‘And is she properly dressed now?’

‘I believe so. I left her with Rose who has found one of my gowns for her.’

‘Then send for her.’

‘You are not going to give her a jobation, are you, James? She knows how bad she has been and is full of remorse. Scolding her will not make her more compliant—it might even drive her to be more outrageous.’

‘I cannot ignore what she has done.’

‘No, but be gentle with her, James. If it had not been for you sending Toby away as if he had caused some dreadful scandal, she would not have felt misused.’

‘I was endeavouring to prevent a scandal.’

‘Beth is not in love with Mr Kendall, James, there was nothing improper in their relationship. She finds him interesting because of his love and knowledge of botany, a passion she shares. You should talk to her about it, you might be surprised at how much she knows on the subject.’

‘You are telling me I have made a mull of it.’

She laughed lightly. ‘I would not dare to criticise the great Duke of Belfont, known for his wisdom and good sense. Why, even the King listens to your advice.’

He smiled at her flummery and turned as the door opened and Beth made her way into the room and curtsied before him, bending her head very low so that he could only see the shining top of her coiffure.

‘Sit down, Beth,’ he commanded. ‘I am glad to see you safely here.’

She sat and waited.

‘You must be hungry,’ Sophie said, ringing the hand bell at her side.

‘A little.’ She was more than a little hungry—she had not eaten since the evening before and she was ravenous. It was why she had taken her courage in her hands and come down. Even then she had paused outside the door before entering and it was how she came to hear all their conversation. She was disappointed in her aunt. Not only had she seen fit to tell the Duke everything, she seemed to be determined to marry her off to Mr Melhurst and that was something she would never consider, even though he appeared to have offered. Surely one short ride in an enclosed coach had not compromised her reputation to such an extent?

She did not even like him, he was pompous with her while he toadied to her uncle when he had promised to try and keep the Duke out of it. And what was that about a scandal and having to live abroad? Did that mean he had done something terrible? Had he wrecked some other lady’s reputation? Had he cheated at cards? Had he killed someone in a duel? She would not put any of those past him. Did he suppose she had a vast dowry? If Mr Andrew Melhurst thought he would be marrying a wealthy heiress, he was very mistaken; her uncle was generous, but not so as to make her wealthy. Besides, even if Mr Melhurst was the soul of virtue, she would never agree; he was the symbol of her mortification. She refused to listen to the tiny voice of reason that was telling her she was being unjust.

A servant arrived in answer to the Duchess’s summons. ‘Tell Didoner we are ready for supper now,’ she instructed him.

Beth would rather have had something in her room, and had opened her mouth to say so, but then she saw her aunt slowly shaking her head and realised she was going to have to endure a meal with the Duke, who would either ignore her as if she were not there or subject her to a roasting all the way through the meal. She was not sure which would be worse.

In the event, he did neither. Didoner, their French chef, was a perfectionist and the meals he produced were always first class, whether they were for the Duke and Duchess alone, or a vast company, and Beth did hers justice. There was turbot and shrimps, game and ham, not to mention dishes of vegetables, each cooked in a different way. There was fruit and puddings and tartlets and a light bubbly wine.

‘Now,’ said the Duke when they had all be served and the servants had withdrawn to wait outside the door until summoned. ‘I am led to believe that it is your love of growing things that has led to this contretemps.’

‘No, my lord, the contretemps was caused by Mr Kendall being summarily sent away.’

‘Beth!’ Sophie exclaimed, anxious that her niece’s forthright tongue would not shatter her husband’s good mood. No one, except perhaps the King, spoke to James in that fashion.

‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘But if only you had told me…’

‘I am not in the habit of consulting those over whom I hold sway when I have a decision to make. Your mama was concerned about your continuing friendship with Mr Kendall and asked my advice.’

‘Surely Toby told you there was nothing to be concerned about. We both knew he would leave one day, but not until he was ready. He had plants in the glass house he was tending, and others he was experimenting with out of doors to see if they would survive in our climate. And there were plans to make, proper plans with equipment to buy, an itinerary and goals to decide. I was going to be part of that.’

‘Not go with him?’

She smiled suddenly. ‘I knew that would never be allowed, but if the time ever comes when I am independent I should like to go on an expedition, properly escorted, of course. I should like to study exotic plants in their own habitat, collect specimens and seeds to bring back. That is how you obtained those wonderful shrubs you have in your own garden and conservatory, is it not? Someone had to bring them to this country.’

‘Yes, but not a woman.’ His severe look softened. ‘It appears that I have misjudged you, my dear, but are plants all you think of? Surely you sometimes dream of a husband and children? You are very good with Jamie and he adores you.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Though he is to blame for telling me you had arrived. He heard your voice and left his bed to greet you.’

‘It was Jamie?’

‘Yes. Did you hope I would not discover your presence in my house?’

‘No,’ Sophie put in quickly, before Beth could confirm that. ‘But we hoped to defer it until the morning. I was not expecting you back until late.’

‘The King decided he would visit Lady Conyngham and no longer needed me. I think he realises I disapprove of his affairs especially since he came to the throne. In any event, it enabled me to look forward to an evening at home with you, my dear. I was never so put out as when I saw a strange man in my drawing room, chatting gaily to my son as if he belonged here.’

‘He is the sort to make himself at home anywhere,’ Beth put in. ‘A more self-opinionated man, I have yet to meet.’

‘Not self-opinionated,’ her aunt said. ‘Self-assured would be more accurate and perhaps he has had to be, travelling the world as he has.’

‘You travelled all over the place and it did not make you arrogant,’ Beth said, referring to the fact that Sophie had been dragged all over the continent with her parents before they both died in exile and she came back to England to throw herself on the mercy of her mother’s cousin, who just happened to fall in love with her and marry her.

‘Let us leave the subject of Mr Melhurst’s character,’ James said, spearing a piece of succulent ham on his fork. ‘It is getting us nowhere. The important thing is what is to be done.’

Beth was about to tell him that if he thought he could marry her off willy-nilly, he was way off the mark, but thought better of it and remained silent.

‘We have sent for your mama,’ the Duchess told her. ‘If she is able to come at once, she should be here the day after tomorrow, or perhaps Friday. Until she arrives, you must stay indoors. It must look as though you all arrived together.’

‘Very well,’ Beth agreed, though the prospect of spending three days confined to the house was not one she relished. She had always been one for the outdoors, walking, riding and gardening, none of which would be easy in South Audley Street. ‘But the servants know I am here…’

‘They know better than to gossip, certainly not outside these four walls,’ her uncle told her.

But they bargained without the strange way the ton had of finding things out and passing them on, adding their own embellishments for good measure.

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