The door closed with a click. She heard his heels clattering briefly on the stone steps, then silence. Rowan turned her face into the pillow and lay, dry-eyed, waiting for morning and the rest of her life.


'Was the ball lovely?' Penny's smile was over-bright, her movements lacking her usual slightly dreamy grace.

'The… Oh, yes. Delightful. Most entertaining, and really surprisingly lavish and sophisticated.' Rowan managed to inject creditable enthusiasm into her tone as she bustled around her friend, helping her out of her travelling clothes.

'Only you look rather strained.' Penny tossed her muff onto the chest of drawers and sat down at the dressing table to whisk a hare's foot over her nose and cheeks.

'It was a late night. And then I was too excited to sleep.'

The pain had to ease, surely? In a day or two it would settle down into a perfectly manageable misery, and in the meantime all she had to do was act. Not that that was easy. She had found the little mug outside her door later that morning and had had to go back inside for ten minutes to regain her composure before coming down. It was sitting on her dresser now, waiting for her.

'How was the visit?'

'My singing was every bit as painful as you might expect, but once that was over the rest was very pleasant. The dowager had her grandchildren to stay and they were delightful.'

'Was the singing so very bad? Did your godmother insist you perform in front of everyone?'

'Of course. But Lord Danescroft said he wanted to sing, too, so we sang a duet and he quite drowned me out. Thank goodness.'

'How rude of him.'

'Oh, no, he meant it nicely, for he could see I was nervous, and he confided that he was sure to be asked so we could get it over with together.'

'I see. So you are thinking more kindly of him now?' Rowan spread out Penny's afternoon dress, even though it seemed tiresome to change, given that she would be retiring for a lie-down at four o'clock in anticipation of the ball.

Penny set down the hare's foot with a snap. 'I am quite decided about Lord Danescroft,' she said, with surprising crispness.

'Well… good.'

Penny got up and tossed aside her wrapper for Rowan to lift the afternoon gown over her head. 'I have made up my mind that you are right,' she announced as her head emerged from the floss-trimmed neck. 'I must speak up and say what I really want, what I feel, and to…hell with the consequences.' She went quite pink and looked terrified at her own boldness.

'Excellent,' Rowan said with emphasis. She only hoped that Penny felt better tomorrow than she did. No, it was wrong to think she felt bad, exactly: she felt…confused and sad, and her body felt wonderful, and her heart… Oh, Lucas.

'So you will?' Penny had obviously been talking for several minutes. She had pinned up her hair without Rowan's help and was putting on her slippers.

'What? Sorry, I was air-dreaming.'

'Come to the ball tonight.' There was a knock at the door. 'Come in!'

Two footmen staggered in, a large trunk between them.

'But that's my-'

'That's the trunk we did not think we would need,' Penny said smoothly, so the men could hear. 'I had it brought up from the inn. Thank you-that will be all.'

'I cannot come to the ball! I'm your dresser.'

'Yes, you can.' Penny threw back the top of the trunk. 'I had the idea yesterday afternoon. When they brought the mail over I pretended I had received a letter from you-the real you-saying you were staying in Tollesbury Magna. Of course everyone made much of the coincidence, and Lady Fortescue said I must write and invite you. Sol sent the groom to Alice and Kate instead, and pretended again that you had accepted with delight.'

'But how on earth am I going to get to the ballroom?'

'There's a side staircase-I think left over from the old house before this wing was added. If you go down it there is a passage, and you can slip out into the stable-yard. The carriage will be there for you at ten. You get in, it drives round to the front door, and down you get.'

'Penelope Maylin-what a pack of lies and deception! I had no idea you had it in you.'

'I know. I must say, being wicked is quite refreshing, don't you think? No one will recognise you-not with your hair dressed and all your jewellery and your best gown. Who would expect to?'

Rowan turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror. No, once her hair was freed from this tight, sleek style, and she was wearing her diamonds and her new cream silk gown, quite unlike anything she had been seen in before, no one would recognise that Lady Rowan Chilcourt was Miss Maylin's humble dresser.

Lucas would, of course, but then he would not see her. The valets did not appear downstairs during such events-not like the ladies' maids, who were on hand to deal with fainting misses, torn hems and wilting coiffures. She must take care to avoid the retiring rooms.

'I will do it.' Last night had been an enchanted dream. It was time to stop being Daisy and become Rowan again. Time to forget she was in love and to think of Papa and of finding a suitable alliance with an eligible man. Time to do her duty.

CHAPTER TEN

'Lady Rowan Chilcourt!'

It was last night all over again-only now the ballroom glittered not just with silverware and glass, candlelight and crystal, but with the unmistakable gleam and glow of gemstones, silks and satins and silver buttons.

Rowan descended the stairs to the receiving line with grace, her fan held just so, her chin up, her smile perfect.

'My dear Lady Rowan, such a pleasure you could join us.'

'Lady Fortescue, I am so grateful for your invitation. My wretched carriage broke a pole, fortunately not far from a most respectable inn-but I am sure Miss Maylin explained all that. And of course I have my woman with me, and my groom and so forth. But to be stranded over Christmas is dreary indeed-now I feel I have been transported back to London!'

'Your friend Miss Maylin is somewhere here. She will soon introduce you to everyone you do not know.'

Rowan passed down the line, greeting the Fortescue family, making small talk, until she was able to emerge at the other end and mingle with the throng. The dancing had not yet started, and people were strolling back and forth. Rowan recognised some young women of her own age she had met during her first Season, before Papa had whisked her off to Vienna, and went to reintroduce herself.

'I owe my invitation to Penelope Maylin,' she explained to Miss Anstruther, when that excited damsel had finished recounting the riveting tale of how she had become betrothed to Lord Martinhoe and thought to enquire how Rowan had popped up in the middle of the snowbound countryside. 'I haven't seen her yet.'

'She's here somewhere. I saw her earlier. The poor girl seems to be trying to avoid Lord Danescroft, but then she has been all week,' Lady Fiona Davidson chipped in. 'Have you heard the scandal?'

'Yes, dreadful,' Rowan agreed, wondering if she should find Penny and stick like glue to forestall any approach by his lordship. He might have the idea of making a declaration during the evening. On the other hand Penny seemed very determined to be firm, so perhaps it would be better to get it over with while her resolution held.

A footman-James, the one with a stammer who was sweet on Edith the kitchen maid-came past with a tray of cordials. Rowan took one with an unsmiling inclination of her head and he walked on, oblivious to the fact that he had just served a woman who had teased him about his smartly powdered wig only the day before. She let out a pent-up breath and relaxed a little.

A gentleman joined them, and then another. The group began to ask her questions about Vienna and the Congress, and she relaxed even more. She could do this. She could pretend to be charming and social and gracious, and no one would guess that she was in love and pining for a man she could not have.

'Well, the shops are nothing but temptation,' she was saying to Lady Furness. 'My allowance would vanish like snow in sunshine within days of me receiving it! The tailoring is not as good as in London, of course. I still sent home for my riding habits-'

The room shifted and blurred as a dark-headed man passed across her line of sight over her ladyship's shoulder.

'Lady Rowan?'

'I am sorry-a moment's dizziness.' Of course it was not Lucas. Goodness, if she was going to have palpitations every time she saw a tall man with dark hair she would be in a decline within a week.

'Might I have the honour of a dance, Lady Rowan?' Now, which young man was this? Oh, yes-Mr Maxwell. She smiled and nodded, and agreed to the second set, while behind her Lord Furness could be heard greeting someone in his rather over-loud bray.

'Stoneley! They told me you were back from those far-flung estates of yours. Come and be introduced to my daughter and some of the other pretty young ladies and tell us all about your adventures.'

'Unless you count a hurricane, very little that would serve as an adventure I'm afraid, Furness. Not a pirate to be seen.'

The voice was deep, dark and amused. The guard stick of Rowan's fan snapped in her gloved fingers. I am losing my mind…

'Now, then-you remember my wife, I'm sure, but you won't have met my daughter Annabelle. And this is Miss Anstruther, and-ah, yes-Lady Rowan, may I present Viscount Stoneley? Stoneley-Lady Rowan Chilcourt.'

She turned, slowly, to confront the man with Lucas's voice, a social smile fixed on her lips. She had heard people say that blood drained from their faces with shock, but she had never believed it until now. It was a physical sensation, an unpleasant one, accompanied by a rushing sound in the head and-