‘By George!’ Ross said. ‘What a thought!’

Richard hid his smile. Ross Marney had always had a short fuse, but in other respects he was steady, reliable and the antithesis of a rake. Who would have guessed that he wished for a show of spirit from his bride rather than cool compliance? Certainly Olivia was unlikely to have known. Most young ladies of aristocratic lineage were told that their husbands would expect conformity, not originality. It took a rebel like Deborah to break through those restraints and tell the world to go hang.

‘Thank you for your tolerance in the matter of my betrothal to Mrs Stratton,’ Richard said now, his thought returning with warmth to his temporary fiancée. ‘I appreciate your support, Ross.’

‘What? Oh…’ Ross waved his hand vaguely. ‘You are very welcome, Richard.’

Richard could tell that his thoughts were still on Olivia and he had no idea what they were talking about. Smiling a little, he thanked his host, excused himself and showed himself out, noting with interest that Ross went straight to the card room, where Olivia was hosting her party, as though he wished to test Richard’s theory immediately. The night air held a chill edge of autumn and the faint scent of wood smoke. Richard breathed it in and realised that he felt more alive than he had done in months. No boredom dogged his steps now, no painted devil tempted him back to his old life and its debauchery.

He was to call on Deborah in the morning and discuss the details of their betrothal. His lips curved into a smile at the thought of seeing her again. So far matters were progressing with pleasing smoothness. He had persuaded Deb to give him a chance and he had gained Ross’s support for his suit. Now all he needed to do was to proceed gently towards his goal and make sure that he did not frighten Deb into reneging on the plan. He had to woo her carefully. He was sure it would be a pleasure. Whistling softly under his breath, Richard drove his hands into his pockets and walked off into the night.


As soon as they met the following morning, Richard could tell that he had given Deb too much time to think and that those thoughts were not positive. She was looking pale and nervous, and much of her natural good spirits seemed depressed. Richard had a horrid suspicion that she was about to call the entire betrothal off.

Remembering his resolution to woo her gently, he decided to proceed with the utmost caution. She might well be regretting her frankness the previous day and have her defences firmly in place. So instead of kissing her properly he kissed her hand with deference and allowed her to usher him into the drawing room. The house seemed very quiet. She did not send for a servant and poured his glass of sweet sherry herself. She was drinking a cup of tea, which she was gripping so tightly he feared the china would crack.

‘I have been thinking about this betrothal and I believe that we should change some of the terms,’ Deb began. From the faint violet shadows underneath her eyes Richard suspected that she might have been thinking about it all night. ‘This was not at all what I had planned. This is…’ she gestured a little wildly and the tea slopped ‘…becoming quite out of hand.’

Richard had been expecting something of the sort, but although he was prepared to be soothing he had no intention of allowing Deb to back out now. If he did there was no guarantee she would not end up asking some other gentleman to act the role of protector, and Richard disliked that thought intensely.

‘You cannot change your mind about the betrothal now,’ he said. ‘Last night I asked Ross’s permission to pay my addresses to you.’

Deb’s eyes flew to his face. She looked shocked. ‘Was that necessary?’

‘If I am to do this,’ Richard said, ‘I do it properly. As Ross was present at our meeting at the Custom House, I thought that he deserved a full explanation.’

‘Yes, but…’ Deb looked confused. ‘You told Ross the truth? About it being a temporary engagement?’

Richard made a split-second decision. ‘I explained the situation to him.’ He saw the relief vivid in her face and smiled ruefully to himself. Mrs Stratton’s reluctance to countenance his suit was not flattering. It had obviously not occurred to her that many young ladies would use this opportunity to persuade him into making the pretend betrothal a real one. Her instinct was to do the reverse, and escape him as quickly as possible.

‘Please do not worry,’ he said soothingly, taking her hand in his. ‘Ross understands. Before I left, he suggested that you visit Olivia this afternoon to discuss the matter with her. Then we may announce our betrothal formally tonight at Lady Benedict’s ball.’

He felt Deborah’s hand tremble in his. She tried to withdraw it, but he held on to her, rubbing his fingers gently over the back of her hand. Her head was bent, a tiny frown wrinkling the skin between her brows. She looked very young.

‘I had not anticipated that we would make a public announcement,’ she said. ‘Surely that is not necessary? This was to be for my family’s benefit only.’

Richard nodded. ‘I understand that, but consider for a moment the questions that might arise if your parents were to have an acquaintance in this neighbourhood.’

Deb’s frown deepened. ‘I am sure that they do not.’

‘You cannot know for certain,’ Richard pointed out. ‘It is better not to take the risk. If everyone hereabouts is aware of our engagement, then there is no difficulty.’

He sensed that he was pushing too hard. A flame of resistance burned in Deb’s eyes. ‘I am sure that there is no such necessity,’ she said. ‘I would prefer to keep the matter secret.’

Richard let go of her hand and sat back in his chair, feigning unconcern. ‘If you wish. I should tell you though, Deborah, that one of the first things that I learned when I was involved in counter-espionage work was to prepare the ground carefully. If you do not, something is bound to go wrong.’

He saw that the frown was back in her eyes. ‘I suppose so. Yes, I can see that there is always the possibility of something going awry.’

It was a minor victory and Richard followed it up at once. ‘That being the case, I believe we should spend a great deal of time together over the next few weeks,’ he said. ‘We need to make it apparent to everyone that we are comfortable in each other’s company. No one will believe our betrothal otherwise.’

Deb’s brow was still puckered. ‘You have decided a great many things,’ she said.

Richard smiled impudently. ‘Did you expect me not to do so?’ he asked.

‘Oh, no,’ Deb said, ‘I expected it. It was just…not as I had planned.’

‘And you will spend time with me?’ Richard pressed. ‘I thought that we could go riding tomorrow afternoon.’

He saw by the flicker in her blue eyes that the idea held appeal.

‘I own that it will be pleasant to ride with someone who is so good at it,’ she said, with a small smile.

‘Good,’ Richard said. He kissed her hand. ‘Unfortunately I am engaged for the rest of the day or I would certainly ask you to spend it with me. I will see you this evening at Lady Benedict’s ball?’

Deb nodded. He had seen from the slight droop to her shoulders that she was disappointed they would not be spending the day together. The knowledge encouraged him. Although she had been initially resistant to his plans, he could feel her softening with each step. He allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic that with time and careful wooing he might persuade her to his point of view and gain her agreement to their marriage. He drew her a little closer and after an initial hesitation, she came. Richard scanned her face, noting the shadow that was still reflected in Deb’s pansy-blue eyes.

‘Are you in agreement that we announce our betrothal tonight?’ he asked softly.

Her lashes swept her cheek for a moment as she looked away. Richard fought a strong urge to kiss her. Repressing his most fundamental urges, he tried to concentrate. He knew that he could override her resistance, knew that she would respond to him, for she had been scrupulously honest about her attraction to him. That was not the way to succeed, however, for whilst he might gain a response from her body, emotionally she would slip further away from him. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes locked on hers and in a moment she looked up at him again.

‘I…yes, I am in agreement,’ she said.

Richard gave a silent sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. I am honoured.’

A shy smile lit her eyes. The urge to kiss her became stronger, so powerful that Richard had to take a step back.

‘I shall see you this evening,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how I look forward to it.’

He saw Deb take a breath as though she were about to speak. Richard frowned. He could sense some tension in her, some unresolved problem.

‘Is there something else that you wished to discuss?’ he asked.

Deb moved away from him and picked up her teacup. It rattled in her hands. Her face was averted from him, pink and feverish.

‘There is something that I wish to say but I find-’ she glanced at him, a fleeting look from those lavender blue eyes ‘-it is a little difficult…’

Richard took the teacup from her-she had not drunk any of it anyway-and placed it gently on the table before leading her back to the sofa and taking both her hands in his. Deb’s blue eyes were huge and apprehensive now and he leaned closer.

‘You are trembling,’ he said gently, ‘and you look terrified.’

‘That is because…’ she licked her lips nervously ‘…there is something I need to say to you and I am not accustomed to being in such close proximity to a gentleman.’

Ridiculous pleasure coursed through Richard at her words. He did not seem able to help himself. But the nervousness in her eyes puzzled him. He wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her. He wanted to kiss her. Richard tried to concentrate.