Jane could imagine all too well what might happen when they finally met. She knew that it would be dreadful. They might come upon each other in a crowded ballroom and Lord Philip would declare before hundreds of onlookers that she was an impostor and not the real Jane Verey at all. Or perhaps he would denounce her for playing a trick on him and the ton hostesses would turn their backs on her. He might demand an explanation that would be almost impossible to give and Lady Verey and Simon would be both horrified and disappointed in her when they knew the truth. She would be packed off back to Ambergate in disgrace and would have ruined matters for Sophia as well as herself.

Then there was the Duke of Delahaye himself, a man who had come to Ambergate to look her over as though she had been a prize horse. Whilst Jane was supposed to be resting that afternoon, she spent the whole time thinking about him. There was no doubt that the Duke was the man she had seen four years previously at Ambergate. The memory of that night was etched on her mind forever; the candlelight, the handsome stranger, the mysterious way in which he had appeared and then vanished. It had all seemed so romantic, and yet it was proved to be nothing but a sham. He had come to do business with her father, come and gone again in secret, and his sole intention had been that she should marry his brother. Everything that had followed was his fault. Jane felt this very strongly. The unwelcome proposal, the necessity of deceit, the problems that now arose…the blame for all of this could be laid directly at Alex Delahaye’s door. Arrogant, overbearing man! Jane sat up, all prospect of rest vanishing. She could feel her anger swelling again, and with it a curious feeling of desolation that she should have come to know Alex Delahaye through this particular set of circumstances.

She started to prepare for the ball as slowly as possible, in the hope that something untoward would happen to prevent their departure. Perhaps the carriage would have a wheel loose, or the horses would have colic, or Lady Verey would decree that Jane was too ill to go, although this was unlikely in view of the fact that she had told her mother that she was very well…

Jane frowned a little as she allowed the maid to help her into an exquisite white dress embroidered with tiny violet flowers. For some reason she had started to think of the Duke of Delahaye again, remembering how powerfully attractive she had found him. Honesty prompted her to admit that this was the other reason that she dreaded her come out. The thought of meeting Alex again was a disturbing one, filling her with a mixture of anticipation tinged with fear that was entirely uncomfortable. She could not account for the effect the Duke had had on her other than to hope rather half-heartedly that it had in fact been the shock of the accident that had made her pulse race in his presence.

‘Oh, if only we had not come to Town!’ Jane lamented, as she watched the maid finish dressing Sophia’s hair. ‘I feel quite sick with nerves!’

Sophia checked her reflection for one last time and thanked the maid prettily. She patted Jane’s hand, giving her an anxious look.

‘Oh, Jane, but it is all so thrilling! You must try to enjoy yourself! Why, I declare I do not know whether to faint with nerves or burst with excitement!’

Even Sophia’s high spirits seemed a little dampened, however, as they crossed the famous threshold. Jane, for her part, was almost silent, a state of affairs so unusual that even Lady Verey noticed and fretted.

‘Come along, girls! Try to look animated! No, not like that, you merely look half-witted! Oh, dear…’

The rooms were decidedly shabby but the company clearly had a good opinion of itself. Young ladies stood about in small groups, their eyes bright and malicious as they surveyed new arrivals. Their mamas looked harder and more acquisitive still and the young men appraised the girls boldly but without warmth. Snatches of conversation ebbed and swirled around them.

‘Thirty-two if she’s a day…’

‘Only two thousand a year, my dears, and who is to make a respectable match on that?’

‘They say her grandfather was a coal merchant…’

‘Positively paints her face, but should try to make a better attempt at it. One can see where the face ends and the neck begins, for they are two different colours!’

The spiteful words cut like shards of glass.

‘Oh, dear,’ Sophia said under her breath, and Jane knew from her tone that her friend suddenly felt as small and uncertain as she, ‘I am not sure that I shall like this place after all!’

They were greeted fulsomely by Lady Jersey, who swam towards them in a diaphanous robe of eau-de-nil, brown eyes alight with excitement and intrigue. The sophistication of her dress made Jane feel like a frump in her debutante white and the warmth of her greeting seemed suspicious in itself.

‘My dears!’ Lady Jersey took Jane’s hand in one of hers and Sophia’s in the other. ‘I am so very glad that you have decided to come! What courage in the face of such unkind gossip! I do so admire you! And how charming you look, Miss Verey! All the gentlemen will soon see that Lord Philip was fair and far out in his remarks! Still, he is such a slow-top that I dare swear ’tis true he mistook the serving maid for a lady!’

She wafted away, leaving Jane, Sophia and Lady Verey to look at each other in consternation.

‘Whatever can she mean?’ Lady Verey fretted, fidgeting with the beaded fringe on her shawl. ‘Oh, I do wish that Simon were here! He promised! Everyone is looking at us and this is so awkward!’

Jane knew that her mother was feeling countrified and dowdy amongst the exotic throng and it was true that everybody did appear to be paying them a great deal of attention. It was early, so the rooms were not yet crowded, and they could see few of their acquaintance amongst the assembled guests. It was many years since Lady Verey had been to Town and she had no fashionable relatives to sponsor them. Jane began to perceive that it might be awkward to be an object of curiosity and yet to see no friendly face ready to help them. Then Lady Verey sighed with relief.

‘Oh, thank goodness! It is Lady Eleanor Fane!’

The redoubtable Lady Eleanor came up and kissed Lady Verey, bestowing a look of approval on Jane and Sophia. ‘Charming,’ she observed. ‘Quite charming and a credit to you, Clarissa!’

‘Eleanor, the most extraordinary thing!’ Lady Verey began. ‘Lady Jersey made some strange remark about Lord Philip Delahaye and some rumours about Jane! And everyone is staring! Do you know-?’

Jane saw a look akin to annoyance cross Lady Eleanor’s face. ‘That woman!’ she said crossly. ‘There has been a little talk about Lord Philip’s hasty departure from Ambergate, Clarissa, that is all!’ She smiled approvingly at Jane and Sophia. ‘The best way to refute the gossip is simply by being here and looking so delightful. I know I can rely on you girls! Now, look-’ she took Lady Verey’s arm in a firm grip ‘-my cousins the Applefords are approaching. Do smile, Clarissa! You would not wish to put off the girls’ partners with that mournful face!’

Mrs Appleford, her daughter Paulette and son Roger arrived at that moment. Roger soon asked Jane to dance and from that moment both girls seemed to be besieged by a flood of eager admirers. Lady Verey’s strained social smile soon relaxed into one of genuine enjoyment as Lady Eleanor introduced her to what seemed like half the ton, all of whom seemed flatteringly eager to make her acquaintance.

Jane, dancing with young Lord Blakeney, had almost forgotten her apprehension about the evening when fate finally caught up with her. A group of four young men had come into the ballroom; even from her place amongst the dancers, Jane could see everyone craning to watch. A few glances were cast in her direction and with a sinking heart she realised that one of the men was Lord Philip Delahaye. She saw one of the others lean close to Lord Philip and he turned towards her, scanning the ballroom.

Jane tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, shrinking amongst the other dancers. Unfortunately the set was coming to an end and she was obliged to accept Lord Blakeney’s escort back to her mother and Lady Eleanor. She watched Lord Philip draw closer, he and his cronies strolling with lazy disdain across the floor towards them. Her breath caught in her throat. What on earth was she going to say?

‘Lady Verey.’ Lord Philip’s bow was much more punctilious than on the occasion of their previous meeting. ‘Aunt Eleanor.’

Lady Eleanor frowned slightly. Lord Philip was no favourite of hers. ‘How do you do, Philip? It is a surprise to see you here! I thought that you had little time for Almack’s!’

Lord Philip looked vaguely discomfited. A hint of colour came into his face. Jane suddenly thought how young he looked, for all his dandified appearance. He could only be a couple of years older than she was. His fair hair flopped across his brow with carefully arranged disorder and his shirt points inhibited him from turning his head too much. He looked a little like a schoolboy trying to appear grown-up. Jane stifled a smile.

‘Came to pay my respects to Miss Verey again,’ he muttered, his colour rising higher. He turned to Jane. ‘How do you do, ma’am? I hope that you will spare a dance for me later.’

Jane dropped a slight curtsy, avoiding his gaze. ‘How do you do, sir,’ she responded colourlessly. ‘I should be delighted.’

There was an awkward silence. Lord Philip’s friends began to fidget behind him. They had expected far greater sport than this. Murmuring their excuses, they drifted away, leaving Lord Philip marooned and looking very uncomfortable.

‘Very pretty, Philip,’ Lady Eleanor approved with deliberate tactlessness. ‘Everyone will see now that those silly rumours are nothing more than empty gossip! Now, may I make you known to Miss Sophia Marchment, a friend of Miss Verey’s from Wiltshire? Miss Marchment-Lord Philip Delahaye.’