Starry-eyed, Clarissa turned.

And beheld the unmistakable outline of Captain Gurnard.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, not the least bit pleased at the prospect of having her tryst with Ned interrupted or-even worse-postponed.

Terrance Gurnard blinked. “Why, I’m here to meet you, my dear.”

“I’m afraid, sir, that my time this evening is spoken for.” If nothing else, Clarissa was Lucilla’s daughter. She delivered the captain’s dismissal with an affronted dignity that would have done justice to royalty.

For a moment, Gurnard was bewildered. Where was the youthful, wide-eyed innocent he had arranged to meet? Then he shook himself. The hoity young miss was just playing hard to get. “Nonsense, my dear,” he purred, advancing on Clarissa. “We all know you’re besotted with me. But fear not, for I’m equally besotted with you.”

Even in the dimness, Gurnard could not misinterpret the icy rigidity that laid hold of Clarissa’s slim frame. She drew herself up and, somehow, succeeded in looking down her nose at him. “My dear Captain, I believe you have lost your wits.” The cool incisiveness in her tone bit deep. “If you will but consider, the notion that I, with suitors such as Mr. Ascombe, could consider you, who have nought but your uniform to commend you, is highly insulting, sir!”

Rocked by the strident vehemence in her tone, Gurnard blinked. Then he sneered. “You were ready enough to encourage me to dangle after you-do you deny it?” Abruptly, he closed the gap between them. He did not have all night to accomplish what he must.

“That was because you were being useful.” Clarissa, her own considerable temper in orbit, continued with undisguised relish, “Useful in ensuring that Mr. Ascombe’s attention did not wander.”

“Useful, was I?” Gurnard ground out. “In that case, my dear, you’ll have to pay the piper.” Roughly, he grasped her arms, intending to pull her to him.

Used to wrestling with her brothers, Clarissa anticipated the move enough to wrench one arm free. “Let me go, sir!”

Her furious shriek jolted Ned from the dazed stupor into which he had fallen. He shot up the steps, only just remembering their plan in time to change his automatic. “Unhand her, you fiend!” to a relatively normal, if slightly strangled, “Clarissa?”

He saw her immediately, one arm held by Gurnard. With an heroic effort, assisted by the calming effects of the cold rage that poured through him, Ned strolled lazily forward. “There you are, m’dear. I apologize for my tardiness, but I was held up.” Commandingly, he held out his hand to Clarissa, his gaze, coldly challenging, fixed on Gurnard’s face.

In order to take her hand, Clarissa chose to use the arm Gurnard was holding. She did so without in any way acknowledging Gurnard’s grasp, much less his presence.

The action snapped Gurnard’s patience. He had no time to play games, nor to brook interference of any sort. He waited until, as Clarissa’s fingers slipped into Ned’s palm, Ned glanced at her. Then he attacked.

And was immediately sent to grass-or marble, as was the case-by a punishing left jab.

In the bushes to the side, Jack allowed the battle-ready tension that had instantly gripped him to fade. “He said his left jab was coming along.”

Inside the temple, Ned frowned, attempting to shield Clarissa from the sight of the captain stretched out on the marble floor. “I’m sorry, Clary. Not the sort of thing one should do in front of a lady, I know. You aren’t feeling faint or anything, are you?”

“Good heavens, no!” Clarissa, eyes alight, both hands clutching one of Ned’s forearms, peered around him at the captain’s prone form. Satisfied that the captain was, at last temporarily, beyond further punishment, she turned her glowing eyes on Ned. “That was marvellous, Ned! How thrillingly heroic. You rescued me!”

And with that, Clarissa promptly hurled herself into her knight errant’s arms.

The watchers in the bushes heard Ned mutter something that sounded like a weak disclaimer but his heart was clearly not in it. Then came silence.

Jack sighed and relaxed, looking up into the night sky, considering, with a certain rakish satisfaction, the prospect of the immediate future. Beside him, Toby shifted restlessly.

Then they heard Ned’s voice, and Clarissa’s replying; the pair turned, still hand in hand, Clarissa’s head against Ned’s shoulder, and made slowly for the steps.

“We’ll follow,” Jack said. “They may be almost betrothed but they’re not betrothed yet.”

They followed Clarissa and Ned at a distance; it was questionable whether either was aware of their presence.

When they reached the booth, it was to find Horatio beaming benevolently, and Ned standing, proud but a trifle hesitant, as Clarissa poured the details of her rescue into her mother’s ear. Jeremy’s and George’s eyes were wide as they drank it all in. Seeing Jack, Lucilla smiled and asked, “Where’s Sophie?”

Ned and Clarissa looked blank.

Toby blinked.

Jack froze-and looked at Horatio.

Suddenly serious, Horatio frowned. “I spoke with her, then we joined Lucilla and the boys. At the end of the fireworks display, Sophie had disappeared. I thought she was with you.”

“She must have gone to the temple,” Toby said, genuinely horrified.

“Gurnard’s still there,” Ned pointed out.

“I’ll find her.” Jack kept his expression impassive, despite the emotions roiling within. He exchanged a look with Horatio, who nodded. Striding to the door, Jack spared a glance for Lucilla. “Don’t worry,” he said. The smile that accompanied the words held a certain grim resolution.

Somewhat subdued, the rest of the party settled to listen to the last of the music.

“You know,” Lucilla murmured as Horatio took the seat beside her. “I’m really not sure we’ve done the right thing.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’m quite sure Sophie can handle Captain Gurnard. But can she handle Jack Lester?”

Horatio smiled and patted her hand. “I’m sure she’ll contrive.”

ON GAINING the Dark Walk, Sophie paused to catch her breath. Peering through the shadows, she could just make out the distant glimmer of the temple’s white pillars, set back in a small grove. The path leading to the water-gate lay nearby; somewhere beyond the temple lay one of the less-used street gates.

Dragging in a deep breath, Sophie quit the shadows. There was no one about. Her soft slippers made little sound on the gravel as she neared the temple steps. Standing at the bottom, she peered in but could see nothing but shadows. Surely Clarissa could not be inside?

For a full minute, she vacillated, then, holding her cape close about her, Sophie mounted the steps. If there was no one inside, it couldn’t hurt to look.

The shadows within enveloped her. Sophie glanced about, then stifled a shriek as a dark shape loomed beside her.

“Well, well, well. Come to look for your cousin, I take it?”

As the shape resolved itself into Captain Gurnard, Sophie gave an almost imperceptible gasp. Straightening, she nodded. “But as she isn’t here-”

“You’ll do just as well.”

The captain wrapped one hand about Sophie’s arm.

Instinctively, she tried to pull away. “Unhand me, sir! What on earth do you believe can come of this?”

“Money, my dear Miss Winterton. Lots of money.”

Sophie remembered his scheme. “You appear to have overlooked something, Captain. I am not an heiress.”

“No,” Gurnard acknowledged. “You’re something even better. You’re the woman Lester’s got his eye on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sophie carefully tested the captain’s hold.

“It means,” Gurnard sneered, convincing her his grip was unbreakable by shaking her, “that Lester will pay and pay handsomely to have you returned to him. And he’ll pay even more to ensure you’re… unharmed, shall we say?”

Sophie recoiled as Gurnard thrust his face close to hers. “It seems Lester’s windfall is to be my gain.” With an abrupt laugh, he turned and dragged her towards the door. “Come on.”

Dredging up every ounce of her courage, Sophie went rigid and pulled back. Her full weight served only to slow the captain, but it was enough to make him turn with a snarl.

Sophie lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “There is, as I said, something you appear to have overlooked, Captain. I am not going to marry Mr. Lester.”

“Gammon,” said Gurnard, and tugged her on.

“But I’m not!” Sophie placed her free hand over her heart. “I swear on my mother’s grave that Mr. Lester has not asked for my hand.”

“It’s not my fault if he’s backward.” They had almost reached the top of the steps.

Sophie lost her temper. “You imbecile! I’m trying to make it plain to you that I am not going to marry Jack Lester!“

Gurnard stopped and turned to her, fury in every line of his large frame. “You,” he began, pointing a finger at her.

“Should learn to accept Fate graciously.”

There was a split second of silence, then Gurnard turned.

Only to meet a left jab that had a great deal more power behind it than the one he’d met earlier.

The result was the same. The captain’s head hit the marble with a resounding thump.

Sophie glared down at him, prostrate at her feet. “Of all the unmitigated scoundrels,” she began.

Jack shook his head and sighed. “Are you and your cousin so lost to all sensibility that you can’t even swoon at the sight of violence?”

Sophie blinked at him, then humphed. “If you must know, I’m feeling quite violent myself. Did you know he intended to-”

“I heard.” Jack reached for her and drew her to him. “But you don’t need to worry about him any more.”

Sophie readily went into his arms. “But shouldn’t we-”