‘Could we do that?’ she asked. ‘Lie here and look at the stars?’

‘We can do whatever we like,’ Richard said.

Deb’s shivers deepened. ‘Has that always been your guiding principle?’ she questioned lightly.

Richard released her and turned over to lie on his back, hands behind his head. ‘It was for many years,’ he said.

‘And now?’

‘Now I hope that I am not so careless for the feelings of others that I take what I want without consideration.’

His gaze challenged her and Deb felt the trembling intensify within. He would not be going against her wishes when he took her. There was nothing that she wanted more.

She rolled on to her stomach the better to study him. She looked down at his face and felt her lips curve in a smile.

‘What makes a man become a rake and a gambler?’ she asked.

‘Boredom, lack of employment, too much time and too much money,’ Richard said lazily. He turned his head and their eyes met. ‘There can be no excuse for it.’

Deb frowned. She had not expected him to be so condemnatory. ‘You are very hard on yourself, Richard.’

Richard’s expression was shuttered. ‘I was a spoilt young man. I confess it. I was meant for the church, you know.’ His smile was self-mocking. ‘How inappropriate would that have been?’

Deb stifled a laugh. ‘The church? Was that your father’s idea?’

‘It was. He did not know me very well.’ Richard sighed. ‘I do not believe he knew any of us very well, to tell the truth. He had an image to which he wished his sons would conform, and none of us did.’ He sighed. ‘Papa thought that inherited wealth should not excuse a man from the necessity of doing something useful with his life and I agree with him on that. However, he also thought it his right to dictate what I should do. Naturally I rebelled against his views. I set forward to cut a swathe through the bored ladies of London society and prove emphatically that I would make a shockingly poor parson.’

Deb saw the hard lines settle deeper on his face. She could not help herself. She reached across and brushed the hair back gently from his forehead. He did not move to repulse her and yet as soon as she had done it she felt a little shy, and withdrew her hand at once.

‘Do you regret your behaviour?’ she asked.

‘In part.’ Richard turned his head slightly and looked at her. ‘I regret the selfishness and the hurt I inflicted so thoughtlessly-’ His gaze slid away from hers as though he could not quite bear the candour of her gaze.

‘Lady Diana Elliot?’ Deb asked.

She heard him sigh. ‘That was probably the worst of my excesses. I treated her with absolute disrespect because I simply did not care. I am not proud of that.’

There was a little silence. The late summer breeze sighed through the marram grass and caught up a handful of sand, spinning it around in a miniature whirlwind. Deb let the grains run through her fingers.

‘Was it boredom that prompted you to join the navy?’ she asked.

Richard’s eyes were narrowed against the sun, where it slanted through the pines and fell in dazzling bars on the white sand.

‘It was. It seemed rather amusing at first and it annoyed my father almost as much as my refusal to become a priest. His idea of gainful employment did not involve risking one’s life for one’s country.’

‘And yet you seem to have been rather good at it.’

Richard shifted and Deb sensed that he was a little uncomfortable. ‘I did well enough.’

‘Ross said that you were courageous to within a point of rashness,’ Deb said.

Their eyes met in a split second of tension, then Richard smiled. ‘So you have been asking Ross about me, Deborah? I rather like that.’

Deb blushed. ‘I was curious.’

‘It seems to be one of your besetting sins,’ Richard said, a little drily.

Deb blushed harder. ‘I confess that I do not calculate matters as you do. I act on impulse, I ask questions if I am curious, I always speak before I think it through.’

Richard laughed. ‘And I like you for it.’

Deb drew a circle in the sand with her finger. ‘It gets me into trouble.’

‘Yes,’ Richard said. ‘I imagine it does.’

‘I released mice into the ballroom at Olivia’s come out and terrified Mrs Aintree when I was twelve by setting the conservatory on fire.’

‘Why did you do that?’ Richard asked.

‘I was trying to ripen the fruit,’ Deb said gloomily. ‘Mama had some ornamental pineapple trees and I had not realised that growing fruit was a slow and delicate process.’

She drew a few wavy lines around through the sand circle. ‘And then I eloped with Neil. That was the most impulsive and foolish thing that I ever did.’

Richard was watching her, an intent expression in his dark eyes. ‘And why did you do that?’ he enquired.

Deb did not meet his gaze. She sat up and drew her knees up to her chin.

‘Mama was forever throwing eligible men in my way,’ she said, ‘but they were all old and gouty and dull as sticks. Then Papa suggested that as I could not find a man to suit me I could marry cousin Harry. His land marched with Papa’s and it seemed a good match, but I found Harry’s fat white hands and his bad breath to be quite unappealing.’

‘Understandably.’

‘Well, I am glad that you do understand,’ Deb said, ‘for Papa was not so sanguine. Then Neil came to Bath on furlough and he looked so dashing in his red uniform that I fell in love with him at once. He courted me in secret.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose that I should have realised that he had no integrity, but it all seemed so exciting. I was bored and did not care about Neil’s family or where he had come from. I thought that he truly cared for me too. We eloped to Gretna and then…’ She frowned. Without realising it, she had strayed very close indeed to dangerous territory. It seemed that Lord Richard Kestrel had a way of making her confide without even realising. She shifted uncomfortably.

‘And then?’ Richard prompted.

Deb averted her face, wishing that she were still wearing her bonnet and could profit from the shelter it afforded her. ‘And then I found myself living in a poky boarding house in Brighton,’ she said. ‘Papa refused my dowry because we had eloped and Neil blamed me, of course. He would shout and swear at me, then go out carousing with his friends and return drunk, or not at all…’ Deb rubbed her forearms vigorously with her hands to dispel the goose pimples on her arms, but the chill inside was more difficult to banish. ‘I was young and inexperienced and it made the disillusion more difficult to bear. Then Neil’s regiment was ordered to India when we had been married but three weeks and he could not wait to go. That made me realise once and for all what a fool I had been. He died a mere six weeks later, although I did not know it for some time. I…’ She made a sudden gesture, obliterating the sand circle with her hand. ‘But that is quite enough on that…’

She knew that Richard would conclude that her memories were too painful. Everyone always made that assumption. It was true, but not for the reasons that they supposed. People imagined Neil Stratton to have been a cruel husband, a lout and a womaniser. That was also true. Fortunately no one ever guessed that he had also been a fortune-hunting bigamist.

Deb looked up suddenly and met the warmth of Richard’s regard. She was struck by his expression. He did not look as though he was speculating about the truth. He looked as though he had merely accepted what she had said…and still liked her, despite the impetuous foolishness that had got her into such trouble. For a second she trembled on the verge of telling him the entire truth. Then she blushed and looked down.

‘I believe that you have skated over your own experiences in order to question me about mine,’ she observed, turning the subject. ‘You did not mention what happened when you were invalided out of the Navy…’

She saw Richard’s face harden. ‘There is little enough to tell. I took a bullet in the shoulder and then caught a fever; by the time I had recovered my strength and my own mind again, my father had arranged for my commission to be withdrawn.’

Deb stared at him, her attention arrested. ‘You mean that whilst you were ill he…he destroyed your livelihood? How disgraceful!’ She had seldom felt so indignant in her life.

She saw Richard smile at her vehemence. ‘No doubt he thought that he had the right. He had never wanted me to be a sailor. He thought it too dangerous, though he had sons to spare. He argued that I had had my chance when he had offered me a good living and the opportunity to pursue a career in the church.’

Deb shook her head stubbornly. ‘That does not excuse him! To make such an arrangement whilst you were sick and unable to reason with him-’ She broke off. ‘I do not suppose that that would have made any difference.’

‘Very likely not. He was not open to reason. And he had powerful friends.’ Richard sat up. ‘He did not require my permission to change my life.’

‘No, but…’ Deb frowned deeply. ‘That is not the point. He did not respect what you wished to do.’

‘Just as your father did not respect the fact that you had no wish to marry your cousin,’ Richard pointed out. ‘We were both subject to parents who thought that they knew what was best for us.’

‘You sound very calm,’ Deb said, still feeling indignant, ‘but it cannot have been easy nevertheless.’

Richard shifted slightly. ‘It was not. I hated him for what he had done. So I went back to the other life I knew irritated him-that of drinking and gambling and flirting and wasting my time…’

‘How did you get your commission back?’ Deb asked.

Richard grinned. ‘When Justin inherited the title he called me in and told me that I could go to hell if I pleased, but not with his blessing. He threatened to cut me off if I did not go back to doing something useful!’