Nat laughed. “This was precisely why I did not tell you sooner about my betrothal. I knew what you would say.”

“And what was that-congratulations?”

“Hardly. Something more along the lines of once the wedding is over and the fortune secured, I will have to live with her for the rest of my life.”

Miles shook his head. “You will be living with her money for the rest of your life. That is the material point. You must have me confused with Dexter, old chap. He is the one who is always extolling the virtues of love.”

“And yet,” Nat said, “Dexter told me once that you were the one who counseled him against marrying Laura unless he loved her with all his heart. Your words, not mine.”

Miles pulled a face. “I must have been suffering from a fever.” He sighed. “Laura wanted true love and I thought that she deserved the best after tolerating Charles for so many years. That is all there was to it.” He clapped Nat on the shoulder. “Come and have a drink with me in the taproom. You look as though you could do with it and all this talk of love is making me feel the need for brandy.”

“Your own suit does not prosper, then?” Nat asked as they turned in through the door and headed down the stone-flagged corridor away from the gentrified elegance of the ballroom.

“In part it does,” Miles said. “Miss Lister has agreed to marry me. That is the good part.”

Nat stared at him. “How did you pull that off?”

“I blackmailed her into it,” Miles said calmly. He saw the look on his friend’s face and nodded. “Yes, I really did.”

“Hell and the devil.” Nat looked torn between amusement and severe reproof. “First you make a wager to seduce Miss Lister into marriage, then you jilt her for a richer prize and then you blackmail her. You are riding for a huge fall, my friend.”

They went into the smoky taproom and took two chairs by the fire. The landlord, working from long experience, came over at once with a bottle of brandy and two glasses.

“I won’t inquire as to the terms of your bargain with Miss Lister,” Nat said as they sat down. “I’d rather not know. But-” he shook his head “-I hope you know what you are doing, Miles.”

“Got it all worked out perfectly, old chap,” Miles said cheerfully.

“So if that is the good part,” Nat prompted, “what could possibly be the bad?”

“The bad part,” Miles said, raising his glass in a toast, “is that the terms of Miss Lister’s inheritance are not without condition, and she will not allow me to announce the betrothal formally until I have fulfilled them.” He swallowed a mouthful of brandy, relishing the fiery taste. “That mad old trout Lady Membury decreed that Miss Lister’s future husband had to prove his worth by behaving honorably for a period of three months and telling nothing but the truth-” He stopped as Nat smothered a snort of laughter in his brandy glass.

“Sorry, old fellow,” Nat drawled, failing utterly to wipe the smile from his face, “but I thought you said you were obliged always to tell the truth!”

“I did say that.” Miles gave his friend a baleful look.

“But surely you fell at the first hurdle?” Nat inquired.

“Your faith in my ability to be honest is so touching,” Miles said. “I have not failed…yet.”

Nat rubbed a hand over his hair. “My God, I hope Miss Lister doesn’t ask you about your mistresses and expect an honest answer! Did you tell her that there are very good reasons-”

“Why a man does not tell the truth all the time? Of course I did.” Miles took another drink. “What can I do? If I break the terms of Lady Membury’s will I forfeit the right to marry Miss Lister, blackmail or no blackmail.”

Nat raised his glass in ironic toast. “Then there is no more to be said, old fellow, other than to wish you luck and to hope profoundly that you can, against all the odds, behave with honor for the next few months.” He shook his head. “All the same,” he added, “something is going to go awry. I feel it in my bones.”

“You’re turning as superstitious as my mother,” Miles said. He shifted in his chair. Suddenly he was conscious of a feeling of discomfort prickling between his shoulder blades. He dismissed it, draining his glass and reaching for the brandy bottle again. “What could possibly go wrong?” he said.

LYDIA COLE HAD RECEIVED a letter. It had been delivered by hand late the previous night and it had only been by the remotest chance that she had seen it poking from beneath the mat when she had crept downstairs to heat some milk in an attempt to soothe herself into sleep. She had taken it up to her room and opened it, her hands shaking as she unfolded the paper. When she saw the name at the bottom of the page she trembled so much that the letter fell to the floor.

After a sleepless night and hours of reflection the following day, Lydia had decided to respond to the plea in the letter. She knew she was a fool to do so. She was not even sure what prompted her to go-curiosity, anger or even love. She waited until Alice and Lizzie and Mrs. Lister had gone out to the ball, and the servants were enjoying a quiet evening tucked up in the warm, and then she slipped like a wraith from the garden door of the house and crept out to the stables. There was a light in the window of the little mews house where the coachman lived with his family, but the groom’s lodging was in darkness. Lydia suspected that he was probably spending his evening off-and his wages-at the Morris Clown Inn.

It was a cold, damp night, no evening for a young, pregnant girl to be loitering in the dark. Yet Lydia, who had spent so much of the previous few months indoors, turned her face up to the cold, sleety caress of the breeze and felt a spark of life rekindle inside her.

She had her hand on the latch of an empty storeroom at the end of the cobbled row when someone stepped from the darkness in front of her and put a gentle hand on her arm. Although she was expecting him, her nerves were stretched so tense she almost screamed. His hand tightened warningly on her elbow and then he had drawn her through the door of the storeroom and bolted it behind them, and in the dim lantern light within, Lydia turned to look at the man who had been her lover.

He looked different. Gone was the dark, devil-may-care Tom Fortune, the adventurer with a twinkle in his eyes and charm enough to burn. She barely recognized the man who stood before her now. His face was thinner. There were deep lines about his eyes. He looked older and harder. It made Lydia realize, with a sudden pang, just how little she knew him. She had been a naive girl who had tumbled into love with a man she had never known at all. Cocooned in the marvelous sensation of being in love, swept away by the discovery of physical passion, she had never questioned Tom’s love for her or his commitment to her, and she had paid the price of that misplaced trust in the child she bore now.

He made no move toward her, but stood still just within the door, looking at her with a kind of desperation in his eyes. “I was not sure if you would come,” he said. He sounded young and anxious. “I was afraid to contact you, but there was no one else who could help me.”

“I am not sure that I can do that,” Lydia said. Her voice was cold and hard.

There was no one else who could help me… That, she thought, the taste of bitterness in her mouth, was exactly like Tom Fortune. He thought only of himself.

“I only came here because I found that I wanted to see you again,” she added. “To see the sort of man you really are rather than the man I once imagined you to be.”

Tom flinched. “You’ve changed.” His voice fell. “Of course you have. How could you not, with what has happened to you? I am sorry-”

“For what?” Lydia said, still in the same cold voice. “For seducing me for nothing other than sport, like the rake you were, or for running off and leaving me alone and pregnant?” She turned away from him. “Or did you mean that you are sorry you are a murderer twice over and a wanted criminal-” Despite herself, her voice cracked with emotion and she stopped to draw a steadying breath. The pain felt as though it was locked into a tight little box inside her chest. She tried to breathe deeply and to make it melt away, but it was too powerful to be dismissed. The sharp edges of her grief stabbed her, stealing her breath. Suddenly she knew she had to get away from him. This was more difficult and heartbreaking than she had imagined.

“I won’t tell anyone that I have seen you,” she said, “but I cannot help you, Tom.” She shook her head. “That was all you wanted from me, wasn’t it?” she said. The tears clogged her throat. “I came here, pregnant with your child, to see if you had ever cared a rush for me, and I find that all you want is my help. You never think of anyone but yourself.”

She had turned to leave when he put a hand on her arm, and such was her need to believe that he cared, even a little, that she stopped.

“I do care,” he said. His voice was harsh. “Lyddy, I swear I care for you. I want you to marry me.”

Lydia almost laughed aloud. “It’s too late,” she began, but he hushed her, drawing her down to sit beside him on the rough stone floor of the storeroom. He had spread his ragged coat on the stone, but it could not ward off the chill, and even with her thick cloak wrapped about her, Lydia was frozen. Five months ago, she thought, had we met like this, there would have been no words and Tom would have been making love to me by now. There had never been many words between them.

“Listen,” Tom said roughly. “Please.” When she remained silent he seemed surprised, almost as though he could not find the words, now that she had granted him the time he had begged for.

“It is true that I seduced you for sport last year,” Tom said, and Lydia could not quite prevent the tiny shudder that went through her at his words. Even now she had hoped in a corner of her mind that it had not been true. “I was bored and spoiled and a scoundrel,” Tom said, “and you were pretty and gentle and you loved me. It flattered me to realize that you cared for me. It made me feel good. I am sorry if it hurts you to hear me say this, but I have to tell you the truth now-all of it.” He paused and took her cold hands in his. “I am more sorry than I can say, now, that I was so careless and thoughtless and hurtful that I took your trust and I twisted and ruined it.”