We should pretend that it never happened.

It had sounded quite easy at the time. Now she was not so certain. The following morning she had been possessed by a quite unexpected shyness where Cory was concerned. She had put off going down to the excavation for as long as possible and then conjured up some spurious excuse about asking Lady Odell if she wished for trout or salmon for supper. Naturally Lady Odell had no preference and was surprised to be asked, but at least it gave Rachel the chance to say a subdued good morning to Cory. He had given her a brief, smiling glance and had continued with his work, and after a moment Rachel had turned away and gone back to the house. She had seen Cory each day of the following week and he had seemed to be making a point of spending time with her. Normally Rachel would have enjoyed this, but now she felt a reserve in her manner towards him. She tried to behave as though nothing had happened between them but she knew that it had, and that seemed to make all the difference.

‘There is Lord Newlyn,’ Deborah said, suddenly. ‘My goodness, Rachel, there is something about him…’

Rachel looked-and felt once again the tiny, telltale shiver along her skin.

‘He looks most distinguished,’ she said colourlessly.

‘Well, yes…’ Deborah put her head on one side thoughtfully ‘…in a thoroughly disreputable way!’

Rachel was obliged to laugh. Cory did indeed look supremely elegant tonight, but still rather dishevelled, in a manner that suggested that he had just got out of his own-or someone else’s-bed. His tawny hair was tousled, his neckcloth tied with casual aplomb and Rachel was glad to see that he had at least done Lady Sally the honour of having his evening clothes pressed.

As she watched, Cory strolled over to Lucas Kestrel and Helena Lang, looked over the artist’s shoulder and grinned. He made some comment to Helena that caused her to look at him archly through her lashes and Rachel felt another sharp twinge in her side, as though someone had stuck a pin in her.

‘Are you quite well, Rachel?’ Deborah enquired. ‘Just for a moment, you looked a little sick.’

‘I am very well, thank you,’ Rachel said hastily. ‘I do believe that your sister and her husband have arrived, Deborah.’

‘Oh!’ Deb beamed. ‘Excuse me! I must ask Ross for a dance.’ And she skipped away down the stairs to the hall.

Left alone, Rachel sighed and followed more slowly. Sir Arthur and Lady Odell were being fêted at one end of the hall, but Rachel had no wish to stand in her parents’ shadow and hear them talk forever about their greatest excavations. Nor did she wish to hover about Cory Newlyn, listening to him flirt with Helena Lang and feeling like a spare part. Evidently Cory did not have the same difficulty that she did in forgetting. But then, Cory was a rake…

Rachel reached the bottom step and was almost immediately accosted by Lady Sally, the best of hostesses, who would not allow one of her guests to wilt in the shadows untended.

‘Miss Odell, I have been looking for you everywhere. Pray come and meet my guests.’

She took Rachel’s arm and drew her towards the baronial fireplace, where the Duke of Kestrel was standing. Justin Kestrel professed himself extremely pleased to meet her and Rachel had no reason to doubt his sincerity. His manner was entirely devoted to making her feel at ease, whilst also making her feel she was the most delightful creature in the room. Rachel appreciated this whilst recognising exactly what he was doing. They chatted happily for a few moments, but Rachel was amused to note that when the Duke thought that her attention was not upon him, his gaze was drawn back to Lady Sally like a compass to north.

‘Justin, you have monopolised Miss Odell for quite long enough,’ Lady Sally said reproachfully, returning after a minute with another gentleman in tow. ‘I have brought your cousin James to make her acquaintance.’

Justin Kestrel bowed, a faint smile playing about his lips. Rachel had the strong impression that he was amused. ‘Then I concede gracefully, of course, Lady Sally,’ he said smoothly. ‘Miss Odell…James…’

He bowed and strolled away, and Rachel looked at the newcomer with sharpened interest. This was the only remaining Kestrel that she had not met, and he stood out like a sparrow in a family of peacocks. He was neat where his cousins were flamboyant, quiet where they were gregarious. He seemed colourless beside them and Rachel felt her heart warming to him. She felt drawn to someone who did not quite fit into their surroundings.

The orchestra struck up for a country dance and suddenly the room was vivid with excitement. Justin Kestrel came across and solicited a dance from Lady Sally. Deborah Stratton strolled past on the arm of her brother-in-law, Ross Marney, whilst Cory Newlyn was prising Lily Benedict away from Sir John Norton with a skill that argued long practice. Rachel waited.

James Kestrel adjusted his cuffs and admired his reflection in the long mirror on the wall behind them. Finally he said, ‘Would you care to dance, Miss Odell?’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Rachel said.

James offered a decorous arm.

‘This is a very elegant occasion, is it not?’ Rachel said, when they took their places in the set. ‘Lady Sally entertains in great style.’

James looked around. His thin face wore a slightly disapproving expression as though there were an unpleasant smell beneath his nose.

‘It is a little raffish,’ he said, ‘but that is what one expects when one invites a group of pirates and adventurers to visit.’

Rachel laughed. ‘Pirates, sir?’

James primmed his lips. ‘There are those here who are little better than pirates. John Norton, for instance…’

Rachel looked round. John Norton was close to them in the set. He saw her looking at him and gave her an exaggerated wink. Rachel blushed and looked quickly away.

‘Sir John is bound to win the Deben Yacht race, then,’ she said lightly, ‘if he is a privateer. Do you sail, sir?’

‘Good lord, no,’ James Kestrel said. ‘It is quite ruinous to the complexion, Miss Odell. Rather like polar exploration. Norton got the most shocking frostbite on his last trip. Almost ate through his nose.’ James looked her over thoughtfully. ‘I hear that you have been quite the traveller, Miss Odell,’ he said. ‘I am happy to see that the sun has not taken its toll on your skin. I suppose that you carry a parasol?’

‘Always,’ Rachel said. Her lips twitched. ‘Even in a sandstorm.’

James nodded. ‘Very wise. One cannot be too careful. Too much sun and one ends up looking a shocking fright.’

The dance progressed and they all changed partners. With a flash of surprise, Rachel found herself taking Cory’s hand for the next figure. His fingers closed strongly around hers and he gave her his heart-shaking smile.

‘Good evening, Rachel. You look very pretty tonight. The golden gauze suits you.’

He was appraising her with a lazy familiarity that nevertheless held echoes of some other, more disturbing emotion. Rachel felt her heartbeat increase. There was something in his eyes that made her feel acutely vulnerable. But this was all wrong-Cory was not supposed to make her feel like this.

She fixed her gaze on a point beyond his right shoulder. It was a mistake, as it brought Helena Lang into her line of sight. Helena was dancing with Lord Northcote, but craning her neck to watch Cory. Rachel felt deeply irritated.

‘Good evening, Cory,’ she said. ‘Are you enjoying yourself in such a…promising environment?’

She saw Cory’s grey eyes widen at the sarcasm in her tone, then he flashed her a grin.

‘I am having a splendid time, I thank you, Rae. Lady Sally’s guests are charming.’

‘They are indeed,’ Rachel said, feeling cross. She was not sure why she wished to provoke him, but the need to do so seemed to go deep. ‘And you seem to be enjoying them to full measure!’

Cory’s hand tightened on hers and she looked up at him instinctively. There was a quizzical look in his eyes now. ‘What is the matter, Rae?’ he asked ‘Did you eat a prune at supper?’

Rachel felt a little light-headed. She could sense herself drawing near to some precipice and felt strangely as though she was about to rush straight over the edge. It had something to do with the need to annoy Cory as much as he was angering her with his thoughtless attentions and careless kisses. She did not like to see him flirting with Helena Lang or Lily Benedict. She felt jealous and angry and confused. Nor did she know what she wanted-Cory’s friendship or his kisses.

‘I am sure that you understand me,’ she said tightly. ‘You are…generous…in your attentions, are you not? One might almost say indiscriminate.’

Cory’s gaze hardened into challenge. ‘Can it be that you are jealous, Rachel?’ he asked mockingly. ‘I thought you professed to want no more than friendship from me?’

Rachel felt trapped. That was what she had told him. It seemed that it was increasingly untrue. And she did not know what to say.

They continued the dance in silence for a few seconds, but it was a quiet that was taut as a bowstring. After a moment Rachel shot an exasperated look at Cory’s face.

‘I believe we should have a little more conversation,’ she said, ‘just to pass the time. Unfortunately, this is a long figure.’

She heard Cory sigh. ‘Very well. Since you claim to dislike rakes, then let us speak of men of another sort. Did you enjoy James Kestrel’s company? I see that he was talking to you, whilst admiring his own reflection, of course.’

Rachel felt hot with annoyance. There was a strong note of sarcasm in Cory’s tone and it infuriated her. Despite her own initial disappointment with James Kestrel, she was not prepared to allow Cory to disapprove of him.