“Oh, James, I knew I could rely on you.”

She grasped both his hands in hers and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Vinny.” He held on to her hands and raised them one by one to his lips. There was no sign of the bantering, carefree young man who loved to tease. “You shouldn’t thank me. I have brought you nothing but grief.”

“How can you say that? You are my dear—” She stopped and looked up at him. He was waiting for her to continue, but she could not. The word brother stuck in her throat.

He said it for her. “Brother?”

“No. Not brother. Not even stepbrother. That was a game we played to amuse everyone.”

“And the time for games is past,” he said quietly, holding her hands to his chest, where she could feel his heart beating almost as quickly as her own. “You know, I have been waiting for you to grow up….”

MARY NICHOLS,

born in Singapore, 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, school secretary, information officer and industrial editor, as well as a writer. She has three grown-up children and four grandchildren.

Lady
Lavinia’s
Match
Mary Nichols

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Historical Note

Copyright

Chapter One
1820

The canvas was huge, several feet long and seven high, propped against a wall in the ballroom of Stanmore House, the London mansion of the Duke of Loscoe. Beside it, on the floor, were several pots of paint and, on a table nearby, a selection of brushes, cloths and a jar of water.

Lady Lavinia Stanmore, a huge apron covering her spotted gingham gown and paint brush in hand, stepped back to appraise her handiwork, which was so large that it had to be viewed from a distance to see the whole. It was a rustic, fairy-tale woodland scene with several gnarled old trees, wound about with columbine, giving shade to half a dozen rabbits at play, some colourful toadstools and a bank of wild flowers.

‘Heavens, Lavinia! I know you like the broad view, but this is monumental.’

She turned to face the man who stood nonchalantly leaning against the door frame. James, Earl of Corringham, was dressed to a shade and only managed to escape being a fop by a whisker. His hair was fair and as beautifully cut as his superfine green coat. His biscuit-coloured pantaloons tucked in tasselled Hessians and his precisely tied cravat proclaimed him a Corinthian of the first water.

‘Oh, it’s you, James.’

He grinned, his grey eyes alight with humour. ‘Whom else did you expect?’

‘I didn’t expect anyone in particular.’

He stepped forward to inspect the painting more closely. ‘Where on earth are you going to put it? Where in this house, large though it is, is there enough wall space to hang such a monstrosity?’

‘It is not a monstrosity!’

‘I beg your pardon. I did not mean it is ugly,’ he retracted quickly, knowing her temper could be volatile. ‘I meant monstrous in the sense of very big.’

‘It has to be big. It is a scene.’

‘I can see that.’

‘I mean a scene for a play. It is a backcloth for A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’

‘Oh, I see. Tell me more.’

He only asked her for details because he loved looking at her, loved the sound of her voice, the light of enthusiasm in her green eyes when she talked about things that interested her, the way her chestnut curls lay so lovingly on her slender neck, the way she held herself with a natural grace that had nothing to do with her aristocratic antecedents. He loved everything about her and it was a pity she looked on him as an older brother and not, as every mama of the ton viewed him, an eligible man in need of a wife.

He was not her brother, they were in no way related, except through the fairly recent marriage of his stepmother to her father, the Duke of Loscoe, distant enough to make no difference at all to the way he felt about her, the way he had felt ever since meeting her three years before. She had been a high-spirited, wilful sixteen-year-old, up from the country to sample the delights of London for the first time, not yet come out and far too young to be thinking of marriage. When the Duke had married his stepmother the following year it was easier to treat Vinny as a sister and they had fallen into an easy relationship that he had no idea would be so difficult to change.

‘We are going to put on a play to raise money for Stepmama’s orphanages,’ she explained. ‘The cost of running them is rising all the time and the need for them increasing day by day, and I hit on this way of finding the blunt.’

Homes for children orphaned by the late war were one of the Duchess’s favourite charities. It was that more than anything else which had changed Lavinia’s initial resentment of her to grudging admiration which, when her father declared his intention of marrying Frances, soon turned to love.

She had become more of a mother to her than her own mother had ever been. If it had not been for her brother, her childhood would have been a lonely one. Miss Hastings, her governess, had provided a modicum of education along with lessons in manners, but Lavinia had escaped as often as possible to roam the fields, ride her pony or find mischief with Duncan. It was little wonder she had grown up knowing more of the ways of little boys than young ladies. The only time she saw her mother was when she was sent for to be punished for these misdemeanours and that usually meant being confined to the schoolroom and more isolation. It was almost as if her mother could not bear the sight of her.

‘I suppose it was Little Mama’s idea.’ James’s name for his stepmother had been coined when Frances first came to their home in Essex as his father’s bride, when he was seven years old and she was seventeen. It had stuck even after his father’s death and her subsequent marriage to the Duke.

‘No, it was mine. There was a company of touring players who came to Risley earlier this year. They put up a huge tent and everyone went to see them, so I thought, why not do something like it ourselves? I would have done it at Loscoe Court, but I realised it would not attract a large enough audience, and, as we were coming to London, I decided to have it here. We are going to convert the ballroom into a theatre for one night.’

‘Who is “we”?’

‘Oh, anyone who is interested. You can take part, if you wish.’

‘Can I, now? What makes you think I have any talent as an actor?’

‘We won’t know until we hear you try, will we? And if you are quite, quite hopeless, as I suspect you may be, why, then you may help us behind the scenes…’

‘Shifting the scenery,’ he said, nodding towards the painting.

‘If you like.’

‘And if I don’t choose to do it?’

‘It is of no consequence. There are others who are willing.’

‘Who?’

‘Duncan. Perhaps Benedict Willoughby.’

‘You cannot rely on those two. Your brother is a sloth and young Willoughby is wild and unreliable.’

‘Duncan can rouse himself when he wants to. I thought it might divert him.’

‘From falling into more scrapes? You will only do that if you manage to separate him from Willoughby.’

‘I do not think you should belittle him, James.’ She defended her eighteen-year-old brother out of habit, not because James was not right. ‘I collect you were always in scrapes when you were young. Now you are grown old and staid, you have forgotten what it was like.’

‘Old and staid!’ He laughed. ‘Is that what being seven and twenty is? And I thought I was only now reaching my prime.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Do you propose to act in this little entertainment yourself?’

‘Yes, if I am good enough.’

‘Who else?’

‘Lancelot Greatorex.’

‘Lancelot Greatorex? Who is he?’

‘The manager of the Thespian Players and a very fine actor.’

‘That accounts for the preposterous name. I assume it is a pseudonym?’

‘I do not know, do I? I never asked him. The players have other engagements round the country for the next few weeks, but he has promised to come to London at the end of the summer with some of his company to direct us.’

‘Good Lord! Do you mean to say the Duke has countenanced you associating with play actors?’

‘Why should he not?’

‘Oh, Lavinia,’ he sighed. ‘Have you even asked him?’

‘Not yet, but I will.’

He laughed. ‘Then I wish you luck, but forgive me if I am not present when you do. I have no fancy to be at the receiving end of his temper, nor even to witness it.’

‘Papa doesn’t have a temper—not a bad one, that is. He is always prepared to listen.’ And that had come about since he married Frances. Before that he had been a remote and unreachable figure, seen only occasionally, someone who inspired awe rather than love. Not until her mother died and he had brought her to London did she even begin to know him. And that had been a revelation. He was far from the ogre she had always supposed him to be.

‘And having listened, will pronounce judgement and that will be the end of it. His Grace, the Duke of Loscoe, is a benevolent papa who puts up with a great deal more from his daughter than many men would, but that does not mean he will allow you to do as you please.’

‘We shall see,’ she said blithely.

‘Five guineas says he will not hear of it.’

‘Done,’ she said promptly. ‘I will get Stepmama on my side. He can never refuse her anything.’

‘And if he does agree, who do you hope will come to witness the performance?’

‘Everyone. All our friends and no doubt some who are not truly our friends, but I do not care why they attend, so long as they pay for their tickets.’

‘And you think your papa will allow that? And in his ballroom, too.’

‘I don’t see why not. Don’t you remember that ball Stepmama arranged at Corringham House three years ago for that first orphanage in Maiden Lane? The most unlikely people came, some not haut monde at all, and she did not turn anyone away who was prepared to pay the entrance price.’

‘That was before she married your father and it was not the same thing at all. A ball is not a play.’ He paused, watching as she picked up another brush and dipped it in paint to put the finishing touches to a spotted snake shedding its skin. There was no doubt she was a very talented artist, a talent which had been nurtured by their mutual stepmother, herself a highly acclaimed painter.

‘Am I to suppose from that, that you will not be favouring us with your presence?’

‘Oh, I shall come, if only to watch.’

‘And laugh when things go awry, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Oh, Vinny, I would never do that.’ He watched her deft strokes, hating to act the devil’s advocate, but he could see her riding for a fall and wanted to prevent it if he could. ‘And there’s another thing that might divert the ton away from your play: the King’s efforts to rid himself of his wife.’

Caroline, after living abroad for the last six years and making herself the subject of notorious gossip, had, on the succession of her husband to the throne, suddenly decided to return to London, expecting to be acknowledged as Queen. Her furious husband ignored her, but she enjoyed the plaudits of a fickle populace, who cheered her to the echo whenever she went out.

‘I know that, but I do believe that will help our cause rather than hinder it. Anyone who is anyone has come to town this summer, either to attend the coronation or view the procession from some vantage point and the Season will go on much longer, considering it is not to be until the first of August. It is why we are here. Nothing would have kept Stepmama away from Loscoe Court and little Freddie unless Papa was obliged to attend.’

‘If there is a coronation. The whole thing is like to turn into a huge farce and make the King look more ridiculous than ever.’

‘So Papa said, but it will make for a very interesting Season, don’t you think?’ she said, with a mischievous smile. ‘Just think of all those people who have not been to town for years and years, all bringing wives and daughters, who will doubtless wish to be amused.’

‘You think they will come to see your play?’

‘I do not see why not. You never know, you might find yourself a bride among them—’

‘Heaven forbid!’

‘Why not? You know it is high time you married.’

‘Oh, Vinny, not you too. It is bad enough having Little Mama giving me jobations over it without you adding to it. I will marry when I am ready. And for love.’

‘No, really?’ She laughed. ‘For love? Who is she? Do tell…’

‘Certainly not. And you have no reason to roast me. I collect you had a Season two years go that cost the Duke a fortune, and you turned away every eligible who so much as hinted he was interested.’

‘It was not fair to encourage them when I had no intention of accepting them, was it?’

‘But why not accept one of them?’

‘For the same reason you have given. I will marry when I am ready.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘When I fall in love.’

‘And how will you know when you are in love?’

It was a question which had occupied Lavinia ever since her come-out, but one she could not satisfactorily answer. Her friends and contemporaries seemed not to be able to answer it either, notwithstanding that many of them were already married, some even with families. ‘I shall know,’ she said airily, rinsing out her brush, then changing the subject abruptly, added, ‘You have not told me why you are here.’

‘Do I need a reason? I heard you had arrived in town and decided to pay a call.’

‘A mere courtesy call, then. I will tell Stepmama you came. She is out shopping.’

‘I wanted to see you too. I have something to show you.’

‘What is it?’ She turned from her work to face him and a spot of paint-stained water flew from her brush, narrowly missing his pantaloons.

He stepped back adroitly. ‘Vinny, put that brush down or you will ruin my clothes and then I shan’t tell you anything.’

She did as she was told while he picked up one of the cloths from the table and bent to clean the watery paint from the toe of his boot.

‘Come on, James, let me see.’

‘Go to the window.’

She hurried across the polished floor to one of a long row of windows that looked out over the street. The road was busy with the usual traffic of carriages and riders going about their business, but immediately below the window was the carriage James had arrived in, its pair of matched horses being held by a young urchin to whom he had given a copper or two. ‘Oh, James, a high-perch phaeton! Have you just bought it?’

‘Yes. Do you like it?’

‘Oh, I must look at it properly.’ She whipped off her apron and hurried from the room, down the grand staircase, across the tiled floor and out of the front door, followed by a smiling James.

‘My goodness,’ she said, stopping beside the phaeton. ‘Those wheels must be at least six feet high.’

‘So they are.’

‘But it is a horrid colour. Yellow and black is far too ostentatious. It’s the colour a newly rich industrialist would choose to flaunt his wealth.’

He laughed. ‘Probably because I bought if from a newly rich industrialist. He turned it over and his wife made him get rid of it, said it was dangerous.’

‘And do you think it is dangerous?’

‘Not in skilful hands. Would you like to come for a ride in it?’

‘Now?’

‘Why not? You can leave that painting for an hour or two, can’t you?’

Lavinia did not hesitate. She was always ready for mischief and the thought of parading in Hyde Park, head and shoulders above everyone else, amused her. ‘I will go and change. Wait for me in the drawing room. Ten minutes, no more.’ She was dashing back up the stairs to her bedroom before she finished speaking, leaving him to amble slowly into the drawing room to wait.

She was back within the stipulated time, dressed in a blue taffeta carriage gown and matching pelisse, her unruly curls tamed under a fetching straw bonnet trimmed with blue ribbons tied beneath her chin. That she should have been chaperoned did not cross her mind, or, if it did, was immediately dismissed on the grounds there was no room for more than two in the carriage; anyway, James was like a brother.

He helped her climb up into her seat, sprang up beside her, flicked the reins and the horses began to trot steadily towards Piccadilly.

‘It’s like being on top of the world,’ she said. ‘Papa had a high-perch once, but he didn’t keep it long. When he married Stepmama and little Freddie came along, he decided it was no longer a suitable conveyance. I only ever rode in it once; he said it was vulgar and unstable and he didn’t know why he had been persuaded into buying it.’

‘Perhaps I should not have asked you to accompany me until we had asked him.’

‘We could not.’ She paused, watching him skilfully negotiate the turn into Piccadilly. ‘He is gone to the Lords and like to be there all day. He is being asked to give his advice over the question of the Queen’s coronation, though I wonder at the haste. The Prince Regent—I mean the King, I keep forgetting—has been married to Caroline and living apart from her for years. Why has he left it until now to do something about her?’

‘Because, in case it has slipped your attention, my sweet, she has arrived back in England expecting to be crowned with him. And he is determined that will never happen.’

‘How is he going to prevent it?’

‘Divorce her, I suppose.’

‘But his behaviour has been every bit as bad as hers. Would he dare risk it?’

‘I suppose he thinks the risk worth taking. If he can divorce her, he might remarry and beget an heir.’

She laughed. ‘But he is too old and fat, surely?’

‘He might not think so. And who else is there? His brothers have not been exactly helpful in the matter of legitimate heirs, have they? Plenty of little Fitzes, but none the law can recognise.’

‘There’s the late Duke of Kent’s baby.’

‘Victoria, yes. But she’s a girl.’

‘So what?’ she said sharply. ‘The only reason women are considered inferior is because men have made them believe they are. And I am not the only one to think that. Stepmama believes it too, as you very well know.’

He laughed as they turned in at the gates of the park and turned along the carriage ride. ‘Vinny, are you looking for an argument?’

‘Not at all, unless you are dying to give me one, in which case—’

‘Argue with you! Never! It is more than my life is worth.’

‘Good, because I want you to let me drive.’

‘Certainly not!’

‘Why not? You know I am as good a whip as any man. All you need to do is hand over the ribbons.’ She reached out and laid her hand upon his, hoping he would relinquish the reins. He felt himself tense at her touch, but brought himself quickly under control.

‘No, Vinny. There are far too many people about and it would not be just you and me who might be hurt if you upset us.’

‘Very well,’ she conceded, knowing he was right. ‘We will come out very early one morning when the park is deserted and you shall let me try.’

‘Your papa would not allow it. Nor Little Mama, either.’

‘Then we will not tell them. Oh, go on, James, it will be fun and what harm can come of it when you are there to look after me?’ She looked up at him, dazzling him with her smile. ‘Will you?’

‘I will think about it. Now, I think you had better acknowledge Lady Willoughby before she reports to your mama that you cut her dead.’

From the height of her seat, Lavinia could look down on the occupants of the other carriage and smiling, she turned and bowed to her ladyship. From then on, she was kept busy bowing and bidding ‘good day’ to dozens of ladies out for an afternoon drive and not a few gentlemen on horseback who knew James and envied him his attractive companion.

There was Lord Bertram Haverley, a widower of middle years, known to be looking for a second wife to give him the heir his first wife had failed to do, though she had provided him with two daughters. Sophia, the older, was not quite of marriageable age, and Eliza was two years younger. They were both pretty, bright girls dressed in white gingham. Soon after parting from them, they stopped to speak to Mr Martin Drew, stiffly correct, who only just managed to conceal his disapproval of her going out unchaperoned; and there was handsome Lord Edmund Wincote, who was a stranger to Lavinia, but greeted James so enthusiastically he was obliged to pull up and present him to her.

He was a young man of perhaps four and twenty, fashionably attired in a riding coat of good Bath cloth, a yellow waistcoat, deerskin breeches and tasselled boots. When he swept off his tall riding hat to Lavinia, he revealed short dark hair that sprang into tight little curls.

‘I am happy to make your acquaintance, my lady,’ he said, appraising her with eyes so dark they were almost black. ‘Are you in town for the Season?’

‘Yes, my lord. And you?’

‘Oh, most assuredly, London is the place to be at this moment.’

‘Oh, you mean because of the coronation?’

‘Not at all.’ He smiled into her eyes, making her stomach give a sudden lurch. ‘Because Lady Lavinia Stanmore is here.’

She laughed a little shakily. ‘Flatterer!’

‘I speak from the heart, my lady. I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you at some of the entertainments being held this year.’

‘Oh, undoubtedly, should we both be invited to the same function,’ she said airily, pretending to be unaffected.

‘Then I shall look forward to them all the more.’ He smiled and replaced his hat before wheeling his horse round. ‘Until we meet again, my lady. Corringham, good afternoon.’

‘That was pitched too bold by far,’ James said, as they pulled away and made for home. ‘He must be desperate.’

‘What do you mean, desperate?’ she snapped, turning on him, green eyes flashing. ‘Am I such a poor catch? A ninny no man could possibly want unless he be desperate? You may be my brother, but that does not mean you may disparage me—’

‘Vinny, that is the last thing, the very last thing, I would do. It is the man I disparage, not you. And I am not your brother.’

‘Thank goodness for that for, if you were, you would wrap me up in so many prohibitions I should not be able to breathe. Good heavens, the man was only being polite.’

‘I am sorry, Vinny,’ he said. ‘I did not mean to upset you. You are miles above him in every way and, by desperate, I meant he was trying to find favour even when he must know he has no hope.’

‘And how do you know he has no hope? He is handsome and very polite and—’

‘But for all we know he might be a fortune-hunter, looking for a rich wife and they don’t come richer than the daughter of the Duke of Loscoe.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘What, that your dowry is likely to be more than generous?’

‘No, silly, that Lord Wincote is pinched in the pocket.’

‘A guess,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen him in years and now he turns up out of nowhere, bold as brass. It makes me cautious.’

‘Fie on you, for your suspicious nature. I’ll wager his coat was tailored at Weston’s and the boots came from Hoby’s. Besides, that horse of his is no broken-backed hack. Men without feathers cannot fly so high.’

‘There is such a thing as credit. And debt, as I should know.’

She was diverted from the subject of Lord Wincote to turn and look searchingly into his face. ‘James, surely you are not—’

‘No, of course not. I was referring to my green days. I am a reformed character, as you are perfectly aware.’

‘So you do not need a rich wife?’

He smiled, unable to resist teasing her, knowing she never took offence and would give back as good as she got. ‘Oh, I would not turn one down simply because she was rich, all other considerations being in her favour.’

‘What other considerations?’

‘Her temperament. She would have to be beautiful and biddable too. I could not abide living under the cat’s paw.’

Surprisingly she did not rise to his bait. Instead she said, ‘And do you not think Lord Wincote might have the same sentiments?’

‘I am not privy to his sentiments, Vinny.’

‘Nor, as far as I can tell, to his true situation. Not that it matters, money is not important…’

‘Only because you have never felt the want of it.’

‘I told you before, I shall marry only when I fall in love. And if I fall in love with a pauper, so be it.’

‘Not with him, surely? He is not worthy of you.’

‘I shall say who is worthy and who is not.’ Her temper was up and he ought to have known better than goad her, because it only made her more determined to further the acquaintance of the young man in question. Too late, he realised the wisdom of silence and drew up at the door of Stanmore House without saying another word.

He jumped down and strode round the phaeton to help her alight. She jumped from the last step and almost fell into his arms. He caught her and held just a fraction longer than he ought to have done, but the feel of her lovely body so close against his sent tremors of desire through him and he wanted to savour the feeling as long as he dared.

‘Will you come in?’ she asked, looking up into his grey eyes and seeing there a look which she could not fathom. It was sadness and tenderness and humour all mixed up together and it confused her. And there was a strange twist to his mouth as if he wanted to smile, but could not, which made her want to ask him what troubled him and to comfort him. ‘Mama might be back.’

He released her reluctantly. ‘Does that mean I am forgiven?’

‘Of course it does, silly.’ The fleeting moment of intimacy was gone. ‘But you must make recompense.’

‘Oh?’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘And what might that be?’

‘Take me out in the phaeton again.’

‘Of course. It will be my pleasure.’

‘Tomorrow. Early. Seven o’clock.’

‘Now, Vinny, I never said—’

‘You said you would think about it and now you have thought and have decided that there cannot possibly be any harm in letting me take the ribbons in a deserted park. You think you might even enjoy teaching me, always supposing you manage to rise early enough.’

‘Oh, so you are privy to my thoughts, are you?’

‘Of course. You are an open book to me.’

He did not think so, or she would have read the love in his heart, a love which had grown and matured ever since that day, three years before, when he had been introduced to her. His stepmother, who had an unerring sixth sense where he was concerned, had warned him that Lavinia was far too young to be thinking of marriage and, as he was often in one sort of scrape or another, the Duke would never countenance him as a son-in-law until he mended his ways.

Mending his ways had been easy; after all, his misdemeanours had been minor ones, all part of the process of growing into manhood. Changing the way Lavinia looked at him was far harder. She was as elusive as a butterfly, there to be seen and admired, laughing with him, sharing confidences, expecting him to pull her out scrapes, but likely to flit away without warning, leaving him empty-handed. He sighed, just as the Loscoe barouche drew up beside them and the Duchess alighted.

‘James, I had no idea you were in town.’ Almost thirty-eight years old, Frances, Duchess of Loscoe, was as elegantly beautiful and as full of life as a girl half her age.

‘I arrived yesterday, Mama, and, hearing you were here, I came to pay my respects.’

‘And found only Lavinia at home. I am sorry. If I had known…’ She paused to look at the phaeton, while her groom unloaded armfuls of parcels from her carriage and took them into the house. ‘Did you arrive in that?’

‘Yes. I bought it for a song. Its first owner grew tired of it.’ He could not rid himself of the habit of justifying his purchases to her. If it had not been for her careful supervision when he was growing up, he would have dissipated his inheritance before it had been in his hands five minutes. Now, long after he had learned more sense, the habit remained.

‘I am not surprised. It looks very dangerous.’

‘No, it isn’t, Mama,’ Lavinia put in. ‘But it is very exhilarating to ride in.’

‘By that am I to assume you have been for a ride in it?’

‘Only a very little one to the park and James drove very sedately, I promise you.’

Frances made no comment as she led the way into the house and ordered refreshments to be brought to the drawing room. Then she took off her gloves and hat, carefully stroking the long curled feather into place before handing them both to a footman.

‘Now, tell me all your news,’ she commanded her stepson when all three were sitting comfortably with cups of tea in their hands. ‘There is nothing wrong at Twelvetrees, is there?’

‘No, but being a country landlord can be very trying at times, especially with the economy in the state it is. I felt like a little diversion.’

‘You would not feel like that if you were married.’

‘I cannot see how being married would make any difference to the work of the estate.’

‘No, but you might not find is so trying if you had a wife and children to fulfil you.’

‘Oh, Mama, not again, please. I promise to make a push on the matter this Season, will that satisfy you?’ He looked at Lavinia as he spoke, but she was smiling to herself and stroking the tortoiseshell cat which had climbed on to her knee, apparently completely unperturbed. If the Duke were to enter the room the cat would be gone like a streak of lightning.

‘For the moment. I do not suppose you have been in town long enough to receive any invitations yet.’

‘No, but I do not doubt word will soon go round and I will be besieged. Tell me what is planned and where you will be going, then I shall know whom to accept.’

‘Lady Graham is holding a ball…’

‘Don’t tell me Constance is not off her hands yet. This must be the third year she has tried to fire her off.’

‘James, I wish you would not be so vulgar,’ Frances said. ‘Poor Constance cannot help being plain, but I am sure some young man will recognise her worth before long.’

‘Well, it will not be me, so you may put that idea from your mind. But if I am invited, then I shall go, if only to dance with you.’

‘And me,’ Lavinia put in.

He inclined his head towards her. ‘That goes without saying, my dear. Now, what else is there?’

Although the Season was half over, the Duchess reeled off a catalogue of events, from musical soirées and routs to balls and picnics, not to mention a visit to the opera and another to Vauxhall Gardens. ‘That is, if this wretched business with the Queen doesn’t upset everyone’s plans.’

‘Then I shall look forward to seeing much more of you both.’

Lavinia began to laugh and they both turned to her in puzzlement. ‘What have I said that is so comical?’ he asked.

‘You have just said the same thing as Lord Wincote and in him you condemned it as bold and desperate. Are you desperate, my lord?’

‘Certainly not.’ Unwilling to enter into a discussion on the topic, he stood up. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I must leave you both.’

Lavinia sprang to her feet. ‘I will come to see you off, James.’

He smiled, took his leave of his stepmother, then left the room, followed by Lavinia. At the outer door, she took his hat and gloves from the footman and handed them to him. Her eyes were alight with mischief. ‘I shall see you tomorrow at seven round the corner in the mews,’ she whispered. ‘We do not want to wake the household, do we?’

‘Vinny, I do not think—’

Before he could go on, she had pushed him towards the door. ‘Good afternoon, my lord.’ He suddenly found himself on the step and the door firmly closed behind him. It was a situation he would never have put up with from anyone else; any other young lady treating him in that cavalier fashion would have been dropped immediately. But Lavinia was different. Lavinia was Lavinia, self-willed, to be sure, but there wasn’t an ounce of malice in her body; she had not meant it as a put-down, simply a way of preventing him from arguing.

He clamped his hat on his head, strode to the phaeton, climbed in and drove off, smiling to himself at the prospect of teaching her to drive it.

‘Vinny, what was all that about?’ Frances asked when Lavinia rejoined her. ‘Have you quarrelled with James?’

‘No, Mama.’ And Vinny, who did not see the need to hide it, told her about the encounter with Lord Wincote and James’s reaction.

‘He was only trying to protect you,’ her ladyship said. ‘You know he is very fond of you.’

‘That does not mean he may act as a substitute father. I am not such a ninnyhammer as to fall under the spell of the first man who pays me attention.’

The Duchess laughed. ‘No, for you demonstrated that very clearly when you had your come-out. Your dear papa thought you were being too particular.’

‘But you did not, did you? You know how important it is to feel comfortable and at ease with one’s choice.’

‘Of course. But there are other things to consider.’

Lavinia laughed. ‘Oh, I know. Good looks and mutual interests and money. I have heard it all before. But I want to be in love. You and Papa were in love, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, of course. We still are.’

‘Then you will understand.’

‘Yes, but you have only just met Lord Wincote. You surely do not think you are in love with him?’

‘No, how could I be? I have barely exchanged half a dozen words with him. I simply wanted to tease James.’ What she did not say was that Edmund Wincote had the most mesmeric eyes she had ever come across. They seemed to have the power to turn her usually iron will to jelly. She wanted to see him again to be sure she had not dreamed it. And if she had not, to explore where the feeling would take her, James’s disapproval notwithstanding.

‘Teasing people,’ Frances said slowly. ‘has been known to rebound on the one doing the teasing.’

‘I know, but James asks for it. He is so…so…stiff sometimes.’

The Duchess laughed. ‘That is the last word I would use to describe him. What is it you do to him to make him behave so out of character?’ The question was a rhetorical one; Lady Loscoe had a very good idea, but it was not for her to point it out. She decided to change the subject. ‘When I left the house this morning, you were intent on doing some painting. How did it go?’

Lavinia scrambled to her feet, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, James and Lord Wincote both forgotten. ‘Come with me and I will show you.’

She led the way down to the ground floor ballroom and flung open the door. ‘There! What do you think of it?’

Frances stood and surveyed the great canvas in surprise for a full minute, then she said, ‘Lavinia, why is it so big?’

‘It is a backcloth to a play.’

‘Oh. Have you been commissioned to paint it?’ Frances herself took commissions for all sorts of subjects, most of them family portraits, pets, horses and vistas of people’s estates, the proceeds for which she donated to the orphanage fund. Not surprisingly, she had never been asked to make scenery.

‘No, I just did it. It is meant for A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’

‘Yes, I can see it would do very well for that, but that doesn’t explain why you decided to do it.’

‘Mama, you remember the Thespian Players coming to Risley earlier this year?’

‘Yes. The Duke allowed them to put a tent up in one of the meadows, I recall.’

‘It gave me an idea. I should like to put on a play for our friends and acquaintances and donate the entrance money to the orphanage fund.’

‘Oh, I see. It is very commendable, Vinny dear, but have you thought about all the work involved? Where would you find a tent, for a start, and where could you pitch it, considering we are in London, quite apart from providing costumes and seating and finding people to act in it?’

‘They are not insurmountable problems. And I did not think we should need a tent, we could use this ballroom…’

‘Vinny, I am not at all sure your father would allow that.’

‘He would if you asked him. It would only be for one night and we would charge an astronomical amount to come in, so it would be very select. No riff-raff. I have worked it all out, expenditure and income, just as you taught me.’

Frances smiled. ‘Oh, I have no doubt you have and now you think you can wind me round your thumb and make a conspirator of me.’

‘Oh, it will be such fun! Do say you agree.’

‘I shall have to think about it. Whom else do you plan to involve?’

‘James—’

‘James?’ she queried in surprise. ‘Has he agreed?’

‘Not exactly, but he will,’ she said confidently. ‘And then there is Duncan and Constance…’ She reeled off a list of her friends, being careful not to mention Lancelot Greatorex. ‘Augusta and her two little ones, who would make beautiful fairies, if they can be schooled in their parts…’ Augusta was James’s sister. She was married to Sir Richard Harnham and had two delightful children, Andrew and Beth.

‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream is a difficult play for amateurs, Vinny.’

‘Oh, I plan to condense it. If I leave out the play within the play and stick to the love story, I shall not need so many players. I might even try and simplify the language and set it in modern times.’

‘Might you, indeed!’ Her stepmother laughed. ‘You are certainly not lacking in pluck if you imagine you can improve on Shakespeare.’

‘So you do agree?’

‘Vinny, I commend your enthusiasm, I really do, but you know there is so much going on in town this summer, I cannot help but feel you will be playing to an empty room.’

‘No, for we shall do it after all the fuss over the coronation is over.’

‘But that is not until the first of August—the Season will be over by then and everyone will start going home to the country.’

‘If there is a coronation. James is not at all sure there will be but, in any case, no one will leave town until something is resolved. Everyone will still be fired up with nothing to divert them. There will be a kind of vacuum and we shall be there to fill it. Oh, please say yes.’

‘I shall have to talk to the Duke.’

‘Of course,’ Lavinia said, hoping that her father would be too distracted to pay much attention to what his wife was asking and would give the nod without thinking too deeply about it. And once rehearsals were under way and it became apparent that they needed professional help, she could introduce the idea of asking Mr Greatorex to step in. She decided to let the matter rest for the time being and began talking about Lady Graham’s ball.

‘You owe me five guineas,’ Lavinia said as soon as she had climbed into the phaeton beside James the following morning. It was very early indeed and there was little traffic on the road: a couple of milkmaids were driving their cows from Green Park to the houses where the milk would be sold direct from cow to kitchen maid’s jug; a chimney sweep was striding down the street, his poles and brushes over his shoulder, followed by his tiny assistant scampering to keep up with him; a hackney cab carried a late reveller home; a marauding mongrel and a pair of spitting cats were determined on disturbing the peace.

James took his attention from his driving long enough to turn and look at her. Early as it was, she was looking gloriously vibrant. Her gown was covered by a long cloak whose hood was flung back to reveal her thick chestnut-coloured hair. Not wanting to involve her maid, she had endeavoured to tie it back with a ribbon but several shorter strands had escaped and curled about her ears and neck. Excitement made her green eyes sparkle like emeralds and the early morning air, so much fresher than the heat in the middle of the day, had made her cheeks rosy.

He was almost breathless with longing, but he managed a cool, ‘By that, am I to assume you turned your papa up sweet and he has agreed to allow you to use the ballroom for your play?’

‘Yes, I told you he would, did I not?’

‘There must be a proviso or something of the sort.’

‘No, not at all,’ she said, smiling broadly, revealing perfect white teeth. ‘I told you he would not stand against Mama, didn’t I? She asked him when he came home last night.’

‘Then you did not speak to him yourself. I am not sure that doesn’t invalidate the wager.’

‘I did not undertake to ask him myself. I distinctly remember telling you I would get Mama on my side.’

‘Then I suppose I had better pay up.’ He sighed and turned into the park gates. There was no one about except a few horsemen, galloping across the grass, and a drunken reveller rolling home on foot, his top hat over one eye and his cravat awry. ‘But I cannot help feeling there is something you have not told me. What about this play actor, Lancelot the Great or whatever he is called? Is he to be made welcome?’

‘He will be.’

He laughed suddenly. ‘You did not even mention him, did you?’

‘No, one step at a time. And we didn’t make any stipulations about him in the wager, either.’ She paused. ‘Come on, James, admit you have lost.’

He pulled the horses to a stop, extracted a purse from his coat pocket and gave her five guineas from it. ‘There, does that satisfy you?’

She dropped the coins into her reticule. ‘No, for it was not the wager that brought me out this morning. Did you think you could make me forget that you promised to hand over the ribbons?’

‘I made no such promise.’

‘Oh, come along, James, you know it is what I want to do above all things.’

‘What! Even above acting in one of Shakespeare’s plays?’

‘At this moment, yes.’

‘Very well.’ He gave her the reins. He did not relinquish complete control, but laid his hands over hers to guide her. Even that small touch sent desire coursing through him and made him wonder how he was going to be able to hold on to his self possession. ‘Slowly, now, and keep the inside horse away from the verge. It is running wheels over bumps and slopes that turns these things over.’

‘I know. You do not need to guide me.’

Reluctantly he took his hand away and they proceeded along the carriageway at a walk which soon became a brisk trot, but when she would have set the horses to canter, he put a hand out to restrain her. ‘That’s enough for today, Vinny. Even I would not be such a bufflehead as to go faster here.’

Reluctantly she slowed the horses. ‘Thank you, James. You are the dearest of men.’

He did not reply. He knew she did not mean the endearment in the way he wanted her to mean it, but it gave him a glow of satisfaction, even so. And then his smile faded as he saw Edmund Wincote riding straight towards them.

He would have liked to pretend they had not seen him, but his lordship was determined he would be acknowledged and reined in almost across their path, startling their horses. Fearing Lavinia would not be equal to the task, James grabbed the reins, which Lavinia was reluctant to relinquish. For a moment it confused the horses and they began pulling in different directions. It took all his considerable skill to regain control of them. As it was, Lavinia was jolted almost out of her seat and her hat went flying.

‘You fool, Wincote!’ James said, hauling the horses to a stop. ‘You could have had us over. As it is you have frightened Lady Lavinia half to death.’

‘Have I?’ the young man said, addressing Lavinia and doffing his riding hat, apparently unperturbed. ‘Then I beg your pardon, my lady.’

‘Think no more of it,’ she said smoothly, though she was shaking. She was not sure if it was caused by what could have been a nasty accident or meeting him again so soon. ‘I should have pulled up sooner.’

He dismounted and retrieved her hat. ‘I did not expect to see a carriage in the park so early, especially one with so dexterous and decorative a whipster.’

‘Why not?’ She favoured him with a smile. ‘I like to rise early. It is the best time of the day, before the heat becomes unbearable, don’t you agree?’

‘Oh, indeed.’ He gave her back her hat and watched admiringly as she put it on and tied the ribbons. ‘May I call on you and your mama later? I would wish to assure myself you have had no ill effects from the fright I gave you.’

‘That will not be necessary,’ James put in quickly. ‘You can see her ladyship has come to no harm.’

Wincote grinned knowingly. ‘Oh, I understand. Rest assured your secret is safe with me, Corringham. I wish you good day, my lady.’ And with that he wheeled away.

‘What did he mean by that?’ Lavinia asked, as they continued on their way.

‘He imagines we crept out for a secret assignation.’

She laughed. ‘Then he was not so far wrong, was he?’

‘He was a very long way from being right,’ he said grimly. Far from their secret being safe, he had a notion it would be all over town by evening.

Chapter Two

Lord Edmund Wincote was not in the least put off by James’s antagonism; he arrived at Stanmore House that afternoon, only to discover that the Duchess was ‘at home’ and the house was filled with callers, all taking tea and all talking at once.

Lavinia, clad in a pale green silk gown, its high waist delineated with a band of cream velvet, heard him being announced above the noise and hurried over to make him welcome. ‘Lord Wincote, how nice to see you. Do let me present you to the Duchess.’

She led him forward to where the Duchess was talking to a group of ladies, together with Sir Percival Ponsonby, who always dressed flamboyantly in glaring unmatched colours, but was, for all that, held in great affection and esteem by the Duchess. Today he was in a very old-fashioned puce coat and green breeches. His grey hair was worn long and tied in a tail with a narrow black ribbon.

‘The King is playing least in sight while his wife is seen everywhere,’ Lady Willoughby was saying. She was enormously fat, though apparently unaware of it. Frances had once painted a portrait of her, which she loved because it depicted her flatteringly rounded and without her many chins. The Duke, however, had said the Duchess had belittled herself and her art to do it. ‘I do believe she enjoys putting the King to the blush.’

‘I really do not know how she has the effrontery to come back to England,’ Lady Graham put in. ‘I heard the King had offered her thousands of pounds to stay away…’

Percy laughed, at home among the female company. ‘Well, if he did it has made no difference; she is here.’

‘I heard the King will not allow her to live in any of the Royal palaces and the Lord Mayor has offered her his home,’ Mrs Butterworth added her contribution to the gossip.

‘More fool he. It will do him no good.’

‘Mama,’ Lavinia said, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation. ‘May I present Lord Edmund Wincote?’

‘Why, of course.’ The Duchess turned to him at once, smiling a welcome. ‘How do you do, Lord Wincote?’

He took her hand and bowed over it with precise courtesy. ‘I am honoured, your Grace.’

‘Are you come to town for the festivities?’

‘That was my intent, my lady. I have a friend whose house overlooks the route of the procession and he was kind enough to invite me to join his guests. In the meantime, I have taken lodgings in Mount Street and plan to enjoy whatever London has to offer in the way of entertainment. I was riding in the park yesterday when I chanced upon my old friend the Earl of Corringham and Lady Lavinia. He was so good as to present me to her ladyship. I came to pay my respects. I hope I do not intrude.’

Lavinia was relieved when he did not also mention their second meeting when she had been driving the phaeton. She did not want a scolding over her hoydenish behaviour.

‘Not at all, my lord,’ the Duchess said. ‘You are welcome. May I present Lady Willoughby, Lady Graham and her daughter, Miss Constance Graham, Mrs Butterworth and Sir Percival Ponsonby.’ She indicated each in turn. ‘Lord Edmund Wincote.’ He bowed in acknowledgement, repeating their names politely as he did so.

‘Wincote?’ Lady Willoughby queried. ‘I am not sure I know that name. Where are you from?’ Lord Willoughby was the first of his line to be elevated to the peerage and, though very wealthy, had no country estate, so the family lived in London the whole year round. Lady Willoughby was convinced that gave her a special knowledge of who was who and how often they visited the capital.

‘Cumberland, my lady,’ he answered, not put off by her forthright manner. ‘After my father died, my brother John and I lived with our grandfather. He was in poor health the last few years of his life and rarely travelled. And since the demise of my elder bother, he liked to keep me by him to look after the estate. Sadly, he died earlier this year.’

‘That accounts for it,’ the lady said, apparently satisfied. ‘Is your wife with you?’

It was obvious to all that if his wife was in London she would have accompanied him on afternoon calls, but it was Lady Willoughby’s way of ascertaining if he were married, a most important consideration.

‘I have no wife, my lady. But perhaps I shall soon remedy the deficiency.’

‘We must take you round and introduce you to people,’ Lavinia said to cover the uncomfortable silence that followed this. ‘Perhaps we can contrive invitations for you.’

‘Thank you, my lady.’

‘I wonder if the Queen will attend any functions,’ Lady Willoughby said. And then said to Lady Graham, ‘Do you expect her to make an appearance at your ball?’

‘Good gracious, no.’ Her ladyship affected a shudder of revulsion. ‘I cannot imagine anything worse than the upheaval that would cause. Constance would hate it, wouldn’t you, my love?’

‘Yes, Mama,’ the young lady said. She had mousy hair, and a pale face rather devoid of animation, although she had good bone structure and an enviable figure beneath the plain blue gown she wore.

‘And what about you, Duchess?’ Lady Graham went on as if her daughter had not spoken. ‘Are you expected to entertain Royalty this Season?’

‘I think not. It would compromise the Duke, who is trying very hard to be impartial, though we are obliged to attend the King’s official birthday reception at Carlton House tomorrow evening.’

During all this chatter Lavinia was acutely aware of the handsome figure standing beside her. Although he stood quite still and smiled occasionally as one or the other spoke, there was a kind of aura of energy about him. It was almost as if he were longing to make some point in the conversation, but was holding back for fear of giving offence. And after Lady Willoughby’s grilling, she admired him for it. ‘Lord Wincote, do you like to act?’ she asked.

‘Act, my lady?’ he queried, taken by surprise.

‘Yes, play acting. I am going to put on A Midsummer Night’s Dream to raise money for the Duchess’s favourite charity. I would welcome more people taking part.’

‘I have no experience of acting, my lady.’

‘Oh, that does not signify. I am sure you must have played charades…’

‘Why, yes, in my youth.’

‘There you are, then!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Do say you will join us.’

He bowed. ‘I shall be honoured, my lady.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, giving him one of her dazzling smiles. ‘Constance, will you take part?’

‘If you think I have anything to offer, I will.’ Constance spoke quietly as she always did and Lavinia wondered how she could be persuaded to project her voice so that an audience could hear her. Perhaps Mr Greatorex would school her.

‘Of course you have. And you, too, Sir Percy.’

‘Me?’ he queried. ‘Why, my dear, I can act nothing but the part of Sir Percival Ponsonby.’

She laughed. ‘That is all I ask, but Sir Percy might need a new name for an evening. How does Theseus, Duke of Athens, sound to you?’

‘But I am useless at getting words by rote.’

‘Oh, you do not have too much to say and Stepmama will rehearse you, won’t you, Mama?’

Before the Duchess could answer, the butler announced the arrival of the Earl of Corringham and James sauntered into the room, dressed in light wool fawn-coloured frock coat, cream brocade waistcoat and white lawn cravat in which a diamond pin gleamed. He came forward to bow over his stepmother’s hand, then turned to greet the ladies and Percy, all of whom he knew well.

He left Lavinia until last. ‘Lady Lavinia, your servant,’ he said, bowing formally and making her want to giggle. He could be so pompous at times.

‘James, I did not expect you,’ Frances said, looking quizzically from stepdaughter to stepson. ‘Twice in two days is so out of the ordinary that I begin to wonder what the attraction might be.’

‘Why, you, Mama. And the delightful company you keep.’

‘Gammon! Now ring for more tea, for this has gone stone cold.’

He did as she asked, pretending a nonchalance he did not feel. He wanted to know what Wincote was up to. He could feel the tension in the air and knew it had not been occasioned by his arrival; it had been swirling about before that. ‘Did I hear you talking about Lady Lavinia’s play?’

‘Yes,’ Lavinia said. ‘Lord Wincote has agreed to take a part in it.’

‘Indeed?’ He turned to Edmund and managed to convey a wealth of meaning in the tone of his voice and the way he lifted one eyebrow. ‘I hope you realise what you have undertaken, Wincote. Lady Lavinia can be a dreadful bully, you know.’

‘I find that difficult to believe, but if it be so, then I shall feel honoured to be bullied by so charming a director.’

‘And what part have you been given?’

‘None yet, but it is of no consequence. I will try my utmost in whatever part I am asked to play.’

‘I do not doubt you will,’ James murmured under his breath. Aloud he addressed Frances. ‘Has the Duke really given his blessing?’

‘Yes. Why should he not? It is only for the amusement of family and friends.’

‘Oh, is that all?’ He turned and grinned at Lavinia, sharing her secret; not for a moment would he betray her by mentioning Lancelot Greatorex. ‘So you will need a scene shifter?’

‘Yes, but do not think you can escape so lightly, James,’ she said. ‘You must take a role.’

‘Oh, no.’ He watched as the maid returned with freshly made tea and the Duchess filled a cup and handed it to him. ‘I would be no good.’

‘Why not? If Sir Percy and Duncan and Constance can do it—’

‘Hold your horses,’ Percy put in. ‘I never said I would. I am too old for such capers.’

‘But I need one or two older people. Someone must play the Duke of Athens and Egeus, Hermia’s father. It would look silly if they were young boys. That is why I need you and James.’

‘You need me because I am old?’ James said, affronted.

‘No, but you can act old, you do it all the time,’ she said, a statement which made the Duchess laugh aloud. ‘And we can paint your face with a few wrinkles.’

He turned to Edmund and spread his hands. ‘See what I mean about being a bully.’

‘Her ladyship would not need to bully if you were more willing,’ Edmund said.

‘True, true,’ he admitted with an exaggerated sigh. ‘But I do not subscribe to the view that the ladies should have their own way all the time.’

‘Which is, I am persuaded, why you are still single,’ Lavinia retorted. ‘Now, do not be a spoil sport, or I shall not speak to you again for…for at least a month.’

‘Good,’ he said promptly.

‘James!’ Frances chided him.

‘Oh, very well, Mama. I suppose I will have no peace until I agree.’

He had never had any intention of refusing her, especially knowing that Edmund Wincote was to be in the cast, but he could not resist teasing her. He did not know why he did it; it certainly did not promote his cause. If he were more serious, more careful of her sensibilities, and treated her more like a woman instead of a mischievous child, she might look at him differently. Almost every time they met he began with the intention of acting like a proper suitor, but something always intervened: either they roasted each other, or she said something to affront him, and they ended brangling.

‘Splendid!’ Lavinia said, smiling at him and quite overturning his bad mood. ‘You can begin learning Egeus’s lines, ready for our first rehearsal.’

‘And when is that to be?’

‘I do not know yet. I will let you know when I have all the characters decided on. Duncan has agreed to be Oberon. I asked him yesterday.’

‘Is that all you have so far? It is years since I read the play, but surely there are many more characters?’

‘Yes, there are, but leave them to me.’

‘And are you to direct us, my lady?’ James asked, still unable to refrain from teasing her. ‘As well as acting and painting the scenery and no doubt sewing all the costumes—’

‘James, you know very well I cannot sew. You must all be responsible for your own costumes.’

‘I do hope you are not going to begin these rehearsals before our ball,’ Constance said doubtfully. ‘I do not think I could concentrate on anything else before then.’

‘No, of course not. We have plenty of time. The performance is not to be until after the coronation.’

‘Oh, then it will not interfere with the Season.’

‘No, except that it would be advantageous if everyone knew their parts.’

‘Which part would you wish me to learn?’

‘Do you think you can manage Helena?’ It was a large role and might be beyond Constance, but so far Lavinia could think of no one else to fill it.

‘If it is a big part, I would as lief you found someone else and let me stay in the background.’

‘I know you are not one to put yourself forward, Miss Graham,’ James said, with a gentle smile. ‘But I am quite sure you are equal to the challenge.’

Constance blushed crimson, but could find nothing to say except to thank him without daring to look at him.

‘Corringham, I did not know you were coming to town or I would have sent you an invitation to the ball with all the others,’ Lady Graham said, tapping him on the arm with her fan. ‘You will be able to come, won’t you? It is to be on Wednesday, the fifth of July.’

He bowed. ‘I shall look forward to it. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall take my leave. I have some business to attend to.’ He was reluctant to go while Wincote remained but he had undertaken to look over a couple of horses at Tattersall’s and was expected. There were to be some races on Hampstead Heath in a couple of weeks’ time and he had been foolish enough to enter and make a wager on the outcome. The stakes were minimal; he had no intention of falling back into his old ways; it was more a question of pride, but he needed a prime mount to win.

It was only after he had left that Constance drew her mother to one side and whispered in her ear, which resulted in Lady Graham finding an opportunity of speaking to Frances when Edmund was engaged in being pleasant to Mrs Butterworth. ‘What do you know of Wincote’s background, my lady? Is he a proper kind of person to invite to a gathering like our ball? Constance seems to think we should include him…’

‘I really know nothing about him, except that he is known to James. Perhaps you should have taken the opportunity to ask James while he was here.’

‘Oh, I could not do that. It would have looked so obvious that I was checking on him. But he has delightful manners, has he not? And I can see no harm coming from it. And Mount Street is a respectable address, don’t you think?’ Without waiting for a reply, she went on. ‘I think I shall go and ask his exact direction so that I can send him an invitation. Poor Constance is so anxious…’

‘No more anxious than her mama,’ Lavinia whispered, as the lady hurried away in the direction of Lord Wincote. ‘I do feel sorry for Constance. Lady Graham sets her sights so high, is it any wonder she is constantly disappointed? James said it is because Lord Graham is in dun territory and must have a wealthy son-in-law.’

‘James does not know everything, Vinny, and it is unwise of you to repeat it.’

‘I only said it to you, I would not dream of repeating it to anyone else.’ She stopped speaking as Edmund, having stayed the customary time, approached to take his leave. The other ladies, having heard Lady Graham extending her invitation, had decided that he must be acceptable in Society and had besieged him with their own offerings, which he had accepted with great politeness and due gratitude.

‘Your Grace.’ He bowed. ‘I cannot remember when I spent so agreeable an afternoon. And to be received by your friends is indeed an honour. I shall perhaps see you at Lady Willoughby’s on Friday evening?’

‘I shall look forward to it,’ her ladyship said, offering him her hand, which he took and bowed over, before affording Lavinia the same courtesy. And then, smiling, he was gone, leaving a babble of conversation behind him.

‘Such a pleasant young gentleman.’

‘And so handsome.’

‘Perfect manners,’ Lady Graham added. ‘He may have come from the north country, but his address cannot be faulted.’

‘How did James come to know him?’ Percy asked Lavinia.

‘He did not say. I imagined they were at school together.’

‘But James is at least three years older than he is. I would hardly have expected them to be associates.’

‘Well, I do not know. If you are so curious, why didn’t you ask him?’

‘Not polite to quiz him in your mama’s drawing room, don’t you know?’

‘No, but it does not stop people from talking about him behind his back. Just listen to them!’

It seemed the whole room was buzzing with talk of the new arrival and Lavinia felt a certain sense of triumph that she had seen him first. The faint mystery about him served only to intrigue and excite her. That James did not like him she was well aware, but put it down to the fact that the man was young and handsome and everyone was falling over themselves to be agreeable to him. James’s nose had been quite put out of joint, though why he should care she could not fathom. He had always been laconically indifferent to what others thought of him.

‘Yes, and I think it is time the party broke up,’ he said. ‘Fanny, I shall set a good example and take my leave.’ He bowed to the Duchess and left. Very soon everyone else drifted away, leaving Lavinia and her stepmother to dress for dinner and await the arrival of the Duke.

Lord Wincote appeared at Lady Willoughby’s soirée on Friday, his dress and manners as impeccable as before, though the day had been hotter than ever. Having been greeted by his hostess and exchanged pleasantries with the Duchess, he made a beeline for Lavinia and stayed by her side most of the evening, engaging her in small talk and pretty compliments.

‘The last three days have certainly been worth the effort of making the journey to London,’ he told her. ‘Such pleasant acquaintances I have made since my arrival and none more agreeable than your good self. I am overwhelmed by your kindness to me.’

‘I have not been particularly kind,’ she said. Unable to meet his gaze, she was pretending to look about her at the company, though the tension in her body was enough to tell him she was not indifferent to him.

‘Allow me to disagree, my lady. For someone who is a stranger to the capital with nothing but my good name to commend me, I have been made most welcome. And it is all down to you.’

‘Fustian!’ She turned then and smiled at him. ‘Please do not be so formal. I shall begin to think you are as stiff as James.’

‘The Earl of Corringham,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘A very agreeable gentleman, though I collect he likes to tease.’

‘Yes, but I take no note of it. He is like a dear brother, though of course we are not related.’

‘Oh, are you not?’

She looked sharply at him. ‘No. The Duchess was his stepmother before she was mine. I am surprised you did not know that.’

‘I must have done, but I had forgot. Living so far from London, I am not up to date with events, you understand. My grandfather was something of a recluse.’

‘Then where and when did you meet James?’

‘My brother introduced us when I went up to Cambridge, seven years ago now. Henry, like the Earl, was three years older than me and they were almost at the end of their time there. They were friends, but so far above me as to be indifferent to my presence. I was surprised his lordship even remembered me. Henry died the following year, which made me my grandfather’s heir; after Henry’s funeral, I did not return to my studies but stayed at Grandfather’s side until I came into my inheritance earlier this year.’

‘I see. And you never came to London while you were at Cambridge?’

‘No, as I said, I was not there very long. My last visit to the capital must have been…goodness, I have forgotten the date, it was so long ago.’

‘You must find it much changed.’

‘Oh, yes, indeed. There are so many new buildings and more being built; whole streets have disappeared and new ones put in their place, all in excellent taste. I particularly like the use of trees to line the roads and the gas lighting which makes moving about at night so much safer.’

‘Yes, that is one thing I suppose we must thank his Majesty for.’

‘I have seen articles and caricatures in the newspapers, of course, but until I arrived here, I had not realised the contempt in which he is held…’

‘Only by some. And it is not so much contempt as ridicule. He is so very, very fat.’

‘I saw the Queen yesterday as I was leaving my lodgings in Mount Street. There we saw so many people crowding round and cheering her, I was unable to make a way through them until she had entered her carriage and been driven away.’

‘I believe it happens every time she stirs outside. If it were not for Stepmama being here and needing my company, I should return to our country estate in Derbyshire.’

‘I do hope you will not. I have been looking forward to furthering our acquaintance.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, but you must know that already.’ He paused, then went on, apparently plucking up his courage. ‘Having but lately arrived, I have not yet acquired a carriage, or I would have begged the favour of being allowed to drive you out.’

She laughed suddenly. ‘What, at seven in the morning?’

‘No, not at all, that would be highly improper and if I did not know you are incapable of the slightest unkindness, I might be tempted to believe you were making a May game of me…’

‘Oh, no, my lord, I beg your pardon—I am so used to roasting James. It was very unkind of me. Please forgive me.’

‘Of course. How could I refuse?’ He smiled. If James had been there he would have described it as a smile of triumph, but Lavinia took it at face value. ‘I had in mind a gentle hack along Rotten Row, at a suitably respectable hour,’ he went on. ‘Shall we say, half past ten, tomorrow morning?’

‘Are you always so careful of protocol, my lord?’

‘I am a stranger in your midst, my lady, I cannot flout convention until I am established and then I would do so with the greatest care not to upset those whose regard I value.’

She was reminded of his comment when meeting her driving James’s phaeton, that their secret was safe with him, and wondered if he was referring to that. ‘My lord, if you are implying that I should not have accompanied Lord Corringham in his phaeton—’

‘No, indeed not, my lady. You have explained he is regarded as your brother and none but the worst gabble grinder would infer anything else. I simply meant I wished to be correct.’

‘In that case, you will want to ask the Duchess for her permission to take me riding. It is no good speaking to Papa, he is never at home these days.’

‘Naturally, I will, as soon as you give me leave.’

‘You have it. I shall be delighted to ride with you.’

He hurried off to importune Frances, leaving Lavinia, smiling to herself at his seriousness.

‘Lady Lavinia, your obedient.’

Lavinia turned to find Benedict Willoughby at her elbow. She did not like the young man, who had tried forcing his attentions on her years before. She had been saved by Frances and James, but not before she had slapped his face and his cheek had been cut by her ring, an injury that kept him indoors for a week. He had only been seventeen at the time and trying his wings, but she was sure he had not forgotten it any more than she had, even though he had apologised and she had forgiven him for Duncan’s sake.

‘Mr Willoughby.’

‘I came to ask if I might take a part in your play. Duncan says it is going to be great fun and, if he is much occupied with rehearsals, I shall see nothing of him all Season.’

‘Yes, I can quite imagine you would expect to find some fun in it and possibly at my expense.’

‘Oh, my lady, you wrong me. I have wanted to do something of the sort for an age.’

‘Oh, Vinny, let the young shaver have a part.’ James had strolled over to join them and heard the young man’s request. ‘You cannot afford to be particular, you know.’

‘James, I did not expect to see you here.’

‘Must I always give notice of where I intend to be, so that I may always be expected?’

‘No, don’t be silly.’

He looked from her to Benedict, who was still waiting for his answer, then back to her. Whether it was the warmth of the room or the glass of wine she had consumed or simply that he had flustered her, he did not know, but she had a delightfully heightened colour and her green eyes sparkled with vivacity. Her gown of cream Michelin lace over a matching silk slip followed the lines of her figure so that he was hard put not to stare. ‘Well, are you going to keep him in suspense all night?’

‘Oh, very well,’ she said. ‘You can be Bottom, Mr Willoughby.’

‘Bottom!’ Benedict exclaimed. ‘Isn’t he the one who wears an ass’s head?’

‘Yes, but it is a good part and you will have Titania fall in love with you.’

‘Who will be Titania?’

‘I don’t know yet.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘I will find someone young and pretty for you. So, will you do it?’

‘Very well,’ he said, bowing and leaving them.

‘Vinny, you vixen,’ James said. ‘You enjoyed tormenting him, didn’t you?’

‘No, I am completely indifferent to him. But you were right, I cannot afford to turn anyone away. You are not going to let me down, are you?’

‘Vinny, you know I would never do that…’ He paused, watching Lord Wincote threading his way through the throng towards them. ‘And I sincerely hope others will not either.’

She noticed the direction of his gaze. ‘Surely you do not mean Lord Wincote?’

‘I meant no one in particular, but if by chance he should do anything to upset you, he will have me to contend with.’

‘Why should he upset me?’

He did not have time to answer before the gentleman in question arrived before them. Wincote was smiling broadly. ‘My lady, her Grace has been so kind as to say yes, providing you are properly chaperoned, of course.’

‘Yes, to what?’ James demanded.

Lavinia turned and looked at him in surprise. His question was so abrupt and really it was no business of his. ‘Since you ask,’ she said levelly. ‘I have arranged to ride in the park with Lord Wincote. Now, if you will excuse us, I am going to introduce his lordship to some more of the company. I see Lord Haverley and Mr Drew over there. Perhaps they can be persuaded to join our little production.’ And with that, she laid a hand upon Edmund’s sleeve and went off with him.

James cursed himself for not watching his tongue; now she was taking a perverse delight in being extra-agreeable to Wincote and that young man was lapping up all the attention. He stood and watched them for a few moments. Wincote was handsome and well dressed, as Lavinia had pointed out to him, and his manners were exquisite. If he had been paying his addresses to Constance Graham or any of the other young ladies, he would have said good luck to him. But Lavinia—no. And was that fair? Lavinia’s happiness was all that should matter.

James did not like where his thoughts were taking him and, pushing them from his mind, walked over to talk to his stepmother. ‘They make a handsome couple, do they not?’ he said, endeavouring to keep his voice neutral.

‘Yes, but I am a little uneasy. What do you know of him, James?’

‘Nothing at all. After his brother, Henry, introduced us at college, I never saw him again until yesterday. I really cannot vouch for him.’

‘Could he be a fortune-hunter? The Duke is so busy nowadays, I do not like to worry him, but it means I must be extra-vigilant on his behalf…’

‘Would you like me to make some enquiries?’

‘Could you? He has asked to take her riding tomorrow and I could not withhold my consent for no reason, could I?’

‘No, but I assume she will be chaperoned. And the town is so packed with people they will be in someone’s view the whole time. Besides, if he is looking to the main chance, he will not do anything to compromise that, will he?’

‘No, you are right, but all the same, I would be happier if you were to accompany them.’

‘Me? You mean me to play the chaperon, Mama?’

‘Please.’

‘Lavinia will not like it.’

‘I am sorry for that, but I will have her protected from her own folly.’

‘Very well,’ he agreed, but he was not happy about it.

At a quarter past ten the following morning, Lavinia, dressed in a lightweight blue riding habit, nipped into her tiny waist and frogged with silver braid, tripped lightly down the stairs. She sent a servant to the mews to ask Tom Bagshott, one of the grooms, to bring her mare, Misty, to the front of the house.

Riding out with a young man escorted by Tom was nothing unusual; over the last three years there had been many young men of the ton anxious to be seen with her and it amused her to set one against the other with a little flirtatious teasing, but today was different. Today there was a sense of anticipation which made her a little breathless, heightened the colour in her cheeks and caused her eyes to sparkle. She was aware of it and yet she did not want to admit that it was because Edmund Wincote had asked her to ride with him.

After all, she told herself, what was he but another young man, one of many trying their luck with the Duke of Loscoe’s daughter? Not for the first time, she longed to be a simple country girl, someone who did not have to think about dowries and marriage settlements and fortune-hunters. She wished she could be sure that any young man paying court to her did it out of love.

But if the young man in question was himself rich enough for such things not to count with him, then did it mean she could accept his assurances and allow herself to fall in love? But that was silly, one did not allow oneself to fall in love, it just happened, didn’t it? You could not control it. And wasn’t she rushing ahead too fast? She had only met Lord Wincote three days before and not by the wildest leap of imagination could she say she knew him.

She had no idea of his likes and dislikes over food, art and literature, whether he was kind or unkind, passionate or dispassionate. But those dark mesmeric eyes were deep enough to hide great passions, she was sure of it, and mysterious enough to hold her in thrall. But how did he truly feel about her in his heart? Standing before a long mirror in the hall, she smiled at herself as she set a plumed riding hat on her chestnut mane; time would tell and, in the meantime, she would enjoy herself.

She heard a knock at the door reverberating through the hall, and only just managed not to run and open it herself. Instead, she turned and went into the drawing room to wait as calmly as she could for Lord Wincote to be announced.

However, it was not Lord Wincote but the Earl of Corringham who entered the room, doffed his tall hat and swept her a bow. ‘My lady, your servant.’

She laughed. ‘Why the formality, Corringham?’

‘It seemed the thing to do, seeing I am here as a formality…’

‘Formality?’

‘Yes, the Duchess has asked me to be your chaperon this morning.’

‘She never has! You are making it up.’

‘I am not making it up and, believe me, it was not an errand I sought or wanted, but she asked me and I could not say no, could I?’ He had managed to find nothing against Wincote and ought not to judge him on instinct alone; his instinct could very well be at fault. On the other hand, the Duchess’s rarely was.

‘But why? Tom Bagshott always accompanies me when I ride out. Mama has always been happy about that before.’

‘I believe the Duke had an errand for Tom this morning.’

‘But why you? There are other servants.’

‘My lady, you have cut me to the quick. Am I such a monster that you do not want to be seen out with me? You were ready enough when you wanted to drive my phaeton.’

She leaned back and surveyed him from head to toe. He was dressed in a riding coat of Bath cloth and breeches in the softest tan buckskin tucked into his riding boots. His neckcloth was purest white and tied in a mathematical knot which filled the space between the top of his yellow waistcoat and his smooth, firm chin.

Any young lady would be proud to be seen with him and she was no exception. If it had been anyone but Lord Wincote she was going riding with she would have welcomed him; she might even have invited him to accompany her. But she sensed he and Lord Wincote did not like each other though, as far as she could tell, there was no cause for it. Instead of having a pleasant ride with amusing conversation, they would be trying to score points off one another and she would be pig in the middle.

‘I am sorry, James, I love to ride with you and you know it, but I cannot help thinking there is something smoky going on.’

‘Not from me there is not. Nor Mama. If you have a bad conscience—’

‘I certainly do not!’ They both heard the door knocker at that moment, though neither moved. ‘I am going out riding with Lord Wincote. You may come if you please, I cannot stop you, but should you say one word to spoil it, I shall never forgive you.’

‘I will remain as silent as the grave.’

‘And that will not do either. You will have Lord Wincote think you are sulking. Try to behave naturally.’

He executed an exaggerated leg, denoting his acquiescence without actually saying anything, just as the butler opened the door and announced Lord Wincote.

He strode in, smiling unctuously, and bowed. ‘Lady Lavinia.’

‘You are punctual, my lord.’ She held out her hand which he took.

‘No doubt that is down to impatience to be in your company again, my lady.’ He glanced round, noticing James for the first time, and his expression darkened momentarily. ‘Corringham, good morning.’

James inclined his head. ‘Wincote.’

Lavinia looked from one to the other and her heart sank. If this coldness was what she had to put up with for the next couple of hours, it was going to be hard work instead of fun. ‘Mama has asked James to accompany us,’ she told Edmund, deciding to make the best of it. ‘I shall be the envy of the ton, having two such agreeable escorts.’

James smiled at her. It was a friendly smile, which told her he approved of the way she was handling it and would not let her down. At least, that is what he meant to convey. As long as Wincote acted in a gentlemanly fashion and Lavinia behaved with decorum, he would remain in the background, difficult as it would be. At least he would be able to observe Lord Wincote’s behaviour.

‘Come along, then, let us be off,’ he said, leading the way to the front of the house where he had left his horse and Lavinia’s mare in the care of a groom. Lord Wincote’s own mount stood close by. Watched by a fuming Lord Wincote, James cupped hands for Lavinia to mount, which she did, settling herself in the saddle with consummate ease. The two men mounted and, riding one each side of her, they set off for Hyde Park.

The crowds were so thick they found it difficult to do make their way at all; the Ride, when they turned into it, was no better. It was thronged with riders, from men on spirited thoroughbreds, and ladies dressed in the latest frogged habits and plumed hats, right down to toddlers on tiny ponies. They certainly could not trot or canter, which is what Lavinia wanted to do. And the carriage way was even more packed with vehicles of every description: lumbering old-fashioned coaches, barouches, landaus, tilburys, phaetons and curricles. It seemed everyone in town was determined to see and be seen.

‘Where have they all come from?’ Lavinia asked. ‘I never saw so many people out and about.’

‘Oh, I expect it is the presence of the Queen in town,’ James said, forgetting his intention to remain in the background.

‘Well, whatever it is, it has quite spoiled my ride,’ Lavinia said. ‘Do you think it will be like this all summer long?’

‘Undoubtedly it will, at least until after the coronation,’ Edmund put in. ‘Perhaps we should arrange a day in the country to get away from it all.’

‘What a splendid idea! I shall put it to Stepmama as soon as we return.’

‘In the meantime, do you think Green Park will be less crowded?’

‘Let’s go and see,’ she said, turning her horse towards the nearest exit which happened to be Hyde Park Gate. It took no time at all to cross the road and enter Green Park which was, as Edmund had predicted, far less crowded. The park was more informal than Hyde Park, with areas of grass on which cows grazed, little copses of trees and winding paths.

‘Oh, this is better,’ Lavinia said, throwing back her head so that the plume on her hat tickled her cheek. She lifted a gloved hand to brush it away. ‘But I really think if one wants to ride properly, it will have to be very early in the morning. To have a good gallop one needs space, do you not agree, Lord Wincote?’

‘Now, Vinny,’ James murmured. He did not want Wincote reminded that he had met Lavinia out with him at what polite society would consider an unholy hour. As far as he was aware nothing had been noised abroad and he supposed Wincote had decided it would not do to sully the reputation of the young lady on whom he had fixed his attention. But he did not want Wincote to conclude that Lavinia was ready to meet anyone who took her fancy at that early hour.

Although she had had three years’ schooling in the ways of the haut monde, she was not always aware of the consequences of flouting convention. For James, it was part of her charm and he loved to indulge her, but that did not mean he would sit back and allow her to meet Wincote, or any other young buck, before breakfast.

‘Indeed, yes, my lady,’ Lord Wincote said. ‘But in London, space is at a premium, especially this summer. Now, up in Cumberland, on our estate near Windermere, it is mostly heathland—’

‘I thought it was for the most part water,’ James put in, mischievously. ‘I do not know about you, but I for one cannot ride on water.’

‘James, do not tease,’ Lavinia said, then, turning to Lord Wincote, ‘Take no note of him, my lord, he is in a very strange mood. Tell me about your estate. What is it called? How many acres does it cover?’

‘The house is called Ridgemere, but I am not at all sure of the exact acreage. It used to cover several miles in all directions, but my grandfather reduced the holding before he died. I think there might still be five hundred acres.’

‘Heathland?’ James queried.

‘Three-quarters of it is. It supports a prodigious number of sheep. And below ground there are mines.’

‘You own the mining rights?’ James queried.

‘Yes.’ Forestalling more questions, he turned from James to Lavinia. ‘One may gallop for miles and hardly meet a soul. I should like you to see it.’

‘Perhaps one day I shall,’ she said. ‘But until then, I must make what I can of the space available.’ And with that she dug her spur into Misty’s flank and galloped off across the grass. ‘Race you to that group of trees,’ she shouted behind her and then crouched over her mount and concentrated on riding.

It was a moment or two before the men gathered themselves to follow her and it was James, more used to her ways, who was first off the mark. She could hear the hooves of his stallion behind her and laughed at the sheer exhilaration of it. Not that she could win, she knew she could not. James had the swifter horse and she was handicapped by having to ride side saddle. He overtook her easily and Edmund was drawing abreast as they reached the trees and pulled up.

‘You would not have done that if we had been at Risley,’ she said, dismounting to rest her horse. ‘I would have been riding astride and given you a run for your money.’

‘Hoyden!’ James laughed as he slid from his horse, followed by Edmund. ‘I will put that to the test next time we are there.’

‘Done!’

‘I am sure I could not take advantage of a lady by beating her,’ Edmund said pompously.

‘Fustian!’ she said.

‘Tell you what, Wincote,’ James put in. ‘If you are so averse to riding against a lady, why not pit yourself against your own sex? Join us on Hampstead Heath in a fortnight’s time for some racing. Nothing formal, just a few friends competing against each other for ha’pennies.’

‘Very well. I shall be honoured.’

‘Oh, good,’ Lavinia said. ‘We shall organise that day in the country we talked of. The ladies can come and watch. Or,’ she added with a chuckle, ‘we could hold our own events.’

James sighed. It was just like Lavinia to take what was to have been a purely masculine occasion and turn it into a big event, but she was in such a good humour, her apparent annoyance over his presence dispelled, that he could not remonstrate with her. Lavinia at her sunniest was irresistible.

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