By five o'clock everything was ready, and Rebecca and Louisa sat down to a light tea — a cup of the refreshing beverage, taken with a little seed cake — before retiring to their rooms to dress.


Joshua's fingers fumbled as he made a second attempt at tying his cravat.

I should be looking forward to this evening, he told himself. I'm about to offer Becky my hand and to make her my betrothed.

If she will have me.

That was the thought that plagued him as he made a mess of yet another cravat. He gave it up in disgust and, wrenching it from his neck, threw it to the floor, where it landed on top of his first discarded effort.

He took up another freshly starched piece of linen and tried again.

It did not matter how many times he told himself that of course she would have him. That she loved him, as he loved her.

And when had he realized that? he asked himself. He did not know. It had crept up on him gradually, but it had begun the first time he had set eyes on her in the inn.

He gave a wily smile as he remembered how she had stood up to him. Oh, yes, she had impressed him even then. She had made him take notice of her, and not just as an intriguing face and a voluptuous set of curves, but as a person. Their following encounters had done nothing to diminish this fact, but had rather accentuated it. Over and over again she had refused to fall in with his wishes, and yet every time she had been right. How he had admired her for her courage in standing up to him. And he had admired her in a different way for taking an interest in the world around her, and for becoming involved in the mill. It may not have been convenient for him — nothing about Rebecca was ever convenient! he thought with a wry smile — but she had taught him that men and women could be partners, something he had never realized before. He had thought of women as inferiors — he hated to admit it, but it was true, that was exactly how he had seen them — but Rebecca had taught him they were nothing of the kind.

In her he had found his equal.

But when had these feelings turned to love? He did not know. That had been more subtle. But love it had become. He wanted her, needed her, in every way. He wanted to see her there beside him when he woke up in the morning; to take breakfast with her; to be tormented by her, delighted by her, and enraptured by her for the rest of his life. And all this would be his... if only she said yes.

Memories of her previous refusals returned to haunt him, but he resolutely put all such thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on his cravat.

Damn Brummell for making the wretched things fashionable! he thought unreasonably as his fingers, made clumsy with anticipation of the evening to come, refused to tie the required knot and a third cravat followed the first two onto the floor.

He almost gave into a temptation to ring the bell for his valet, but he fought it. He did not like being dressed by someone else, and although he kept a valet, the man was there to keep his clothes clean and boots polished, and nothing more. He took a deep breath, then began again. Abandoning all attempts to tie anything complicated, he settled for a simple barrel knot. Finally his fingers did what he wanted them to do, and the cravat was successfully tied.

Having succeeded with the most difficult part of his dress, he put on his waistcoat and shrugged on his tailcoat before inspecting himself in the cheval glass. He frowned. The one thing missing was his signet ring.

He could not think how he had come to lose it. No matter. He had set Odgers to looking for it. He had more important things to think of tonight.

Running his hands through his wild mane of hair, he picked up his greatcoat and went out to the waiting carriage.

*  *  *

“Oh, my dear, you do look nice,” said Louisa appreciatively as the two ladies waited for their guests to arrive. Rebecca was dressed in an exquisitely simple high-waisted gown. Its skirt was of white satin and its bodice was of dark red. Dark red sleeves, decorated with a white ribbon, set it off to perfection. As a finishing touch, a dark red ribbon was threaded through Rebecca's ebony hair.

“Thanks to Susan's ministrations and Madame Dubois's hard work,” replied Rebecca with a smile. “And you are looking radiant.”

“Do you think so?” asked Louisa, eyes shining. Her dress, an amber satin, had a double row of flounces round the hem, matched by a frill round the discreet neckline. “You don't think it too fussy?”

“Not at all,” said Rebecca.

Louisa gave a sigh of relief. “I do so like the frills — they are so pretty — but I was worried they might not be quite the thing. But you have set my mind at rest.”

“I'm sure Edward will find them delightful.”

“Oh, my dear, I am so happy!” said Louisa. “I only hope I may soon see you as happy as I am.”

Rebecca flushed. Far from being happy, she was in an agony of suspense. Was it possible that her own love would have such a happy outcome? she wondered. Or had she read too much into Joshua's look, and made too much of his enigmatic words?

She did not know. And until she did, she could not be easy.

Her attention was fortunately soon taken up with receiving the guests for the card party, who slowly began to arrive. There was no Mr Willingham, despite the fact that he had been invited — by now, Rebecca hoped, he would be safely handed over to the local magistrate.

There was also no Joshua. As the time ticked by, Rebecca was seized by a feeling of uncertainty. Surely he meant to come?

But of course he meant to come, she reassured herself. He must simply have been delayed — by business, perhaps, or by affairs connected with Mr Willingham's arrest. She must give her attention to her other guests until he arrived.

Having seen everyone settled round their card tables, amply supplied with refreshments, she slipped out of the room, meaning to give an order for more wine to be brought up: the party had got under way very quickly, and she did not want the supply to run low. But she was stopped short by the sight of Miss Serena Quentin talking to Miss Lavinia Madely, for Miss Quentin was proudly displaying a ring.

Surely she had seen that ring before? thought Rebecca with a lurch beneath her breast. The gold flashed in the glow of the candles, and the letter "J" caught the light. Rebecca closed her eyes, before opening them again and steeling her nerve. For it was Joshua's ring that Miss Quentin was wearing.

At that moment, Miss Quentin turned round, and with an arch smile, said, “Miss Fossington! What a surprise you gave me! I did not see you there. But it is a good thing you are here, for you may be one of the first to congratulate me! I am not meant to say anything at present, but I cannot resist. Mr Kelling and I are to be married!”

Rebecca felt as though she had been stabbed with a knife. “Married?” she asked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“Yes,” crowed Serena. “Is it not splendid news? I am so happy I could cry!”

“It doesn't look much like a betrothal ring,” put in Miss Lavinia Madely spitefully. Her mouth was pursed and she looked severely displeased.

“Of course not,” said Miss Quentin, her air of triumph unshaken. “That will come later. Diamonds, I think, or possibly emeralds, to match my "heavenly green eyes" — for that is what Mr Kelling calls them,” she said, not even flinching at the bare-faced lie. “But he wanted to give me something to be going on with, and what better than his beloved signet ring? I do declare, it seems like only yesterday he was forbidding me to take it from his finger, and saying that only his future wife would be permitted to do such a thing. And now I am his future wife, and I am wearing his ring!” She looked at Rebecca archly. “Well, Miss Fossington? Are you not going to congratulate me?”

“Of ... of course,” said Rebecca. She had to acknowledge the meaning of the ring, but her mind cried out against it. Joshua? Betrothed to Miss Quentin? It couldn't be.

And yet, why not? Miss Quentin was extremely handsome. Joshua had often been in her company. They were both ruthless. Why should he not have offered her his hand?

Because she had thought...

But she had been mistaken, she told herself harshly.

She had hoped he was in love with her — hoped he had been about to offer her his hand — but the hope had proved false.

There was a rushing sound in her ears, and she felt tears stinging the back of her eyes. “If you will excuse me,” she said, “I need to instruct the butler.”

And drawing herself up to her full height she continued on her way with her head held high.

Once out of sight of the two young ladies, however, her shoulders slumped as she took in the full enormity of the situation. Joshua was betrothed to Miss Quentin. She would not have believed it possible. And yet Miss Quentin had been wearing his ring.

Her head was throbbing; her heart aching; and she wanted nothing more than to retire to her room, to lay down on her bed, and to shut out the nightmare. But it could not be. She could not retire. She and Louisa had a house full of guests, and she must see to their needs, entertain them with light-hearted conversation, and appear to be cheerful and perfectly at ease.

Her heart shrivelled at the thought of it, but it could not be helped. Louisa had been looking forward to the card party since it had first been decided upon, and Rebecca did not want to spoil the evening for her, particularly as Louisa was so radiant. No. She must put on a bright smile and behave as though nothing was wrong.