She looked at Nat. He was looking exceptionally well dressed that morning, almost as elegant as on the day that he had proposed, almost as elegant as he would have looked in church when they came together for their marriage. She was not sure how she felt about him taking so much trouble with his appearance when his purpose was to break rather than make a commitment to her. His boots had a high polish, his cravat was immaculately tied and he was wearing a jacket of green superfine that fitted without a wrinkle. He was not, Flora thought, a good-looking man in the conventional sense, for his features were too irregular to be considered handsome. His nose was slightly bent as though it had sustained a sporting injury and his chin had a cleft to it that lent his face both authority and obstinacy. But even though he was not classically handsome, he had something else, something about him that many women might consider strikingly attractive. He was taller than average and filled his clothes well without the need to resort to the padding and buckram so many men used. His face was lean and there was a hard, watchful look in his dark eyes that had made more than one young lady of Flora’s acquaintance shiver soulfully as she commented that did not Lord Waterhouse appear just a tiny bit dangerous? Ruthless perhaps, durable most definitely…Tough in adversity, Flora thought suddenly. That was Nat Waterhouse. He was very strong. She would not care to pit her will against his and she knew of only one woman who ever had done…

She looked at him and her heart did not miss a single beat. She had once thought it unfortunate that Nat did not move her when she had been going to marry him. She had wondered idly if she was missing out on something important, consigning herself to a passionless life. Now she merely felt thankful that she had never loved him and so was spared the pain of loss. And she felt an extraordinary relief that somehow she was going to escape the dutiful marriage that she had been bred to accept.

“I should have been braver from the start,” Flora thought. “I should have acknowledged that I did not want to do as my parents wished. But now I have been given a second chance…”

Suddenly she felt very brave.

“Lord Waterhouse.” He had not spoken, so it seemed it was down to her to move matters along and make things easy for him. Flora sighed, wishing she were not quite so generous by nature. If he wanted to end their engagement it seemed only fair he should suffer a little.

“Flora.” He took her hands in his and drew her to sit beside him on the love seat. “I have something that I must ask you.” He hesitated, frowning. The expression in his eyes was so painful, so at odds with his immaculate outward appearance, that Flora felt quite shaken to see it. She had never, ever seen Nat Waterhouse display strong emotion but now he looked grim and unhappy.

She knew exactly what she had to do.

“You wish me to release you from our engagement,” she said.

Shock flared in his eyes. “How did you know?”

She freed herself from his grasp. What was she to say now? It could not be anything that remotely resembled the truth. The truth was too personal and they had never spoken of intimate things. Their relationship had been entirely superficial.

What she wanted to say was:

“I know we cannot marry because I have always been aware that there is something between you and Lady Elizabeth Scarlet that is too powerful to be ignored, and I do not wish to play second fiddle to it for the rest of my life. I am sure she is in love with you and that you desire her in a way you never desired me…”

No indeed, the perfectly judged, beautifully behaved Miss Flora Minchin could never utter such words to her betrothed, no matter how much she knew them to be true.

“I think that we would not suit.” She smiled brightly at him. “I have thought it for a little while.”

He was looking at her as though she had taken leave of her senses, which in all probability it must seem she had. Not suit? How could they not suit when there was not sufficient emotion in their relationship for them ever to disagree on anything? How could they be anything other than perfectly matched when he had the title and she the money? He was a fortune hunter and she an heiress looking to be a countess. She knew that marriage was a business arrangement, or so her parents had told her, with their banking fortune that had bought everything they had ever wanted except, it seemed, an Earl as a son-in-law and the prospect of a dukedom, almost the highest estate imaginable, once Nat’s father died.

Flora got to her feet and moved away from him, smoothing her immaculate skirts as she walked across the room.

“It is fortunate that you called this morning,” she said, “and that we have had the opportunity to resolve this before it was too late.”

Nat was shaking his head. He raked his hand through his hair. “I ought to explain to you-”

Flora raised a hand to stop him. This would never do. The last thing she wanted from him was that he should explain. “Please do not,” she said.

“But I cannot let you take the sole responsibility for this.” Nat sounded anguished. “It isn’t right that you should bear that.”

It was Nat Waterhouse’s tragedy, Flora thought, that he was too honorable a man to do what many other men would do in his position and cravenly accept the lifeline she was throwing him. Many a man, she was aware, would have crept out by now, abjectly grateful that she had absolved him of all responsibility.

“If you are to be free, my lord,” she said gently, “you cannot have it any other way. A lady is allowed to change her mind. A gentleman is not in honor. It is as simple as that.”

“I don’t deserve for you to make it so easy for me,” Nat said. He sounded grim. He came to her and took her hand in his, pressing a kiss on the back. Once again Flora’s heart did not flutter, but stayed beating as calmly as it always had.

“You are an exceptional woman, Flora Minchin,” he said. “I had no idea.”

“Which rather illustrates why we should have been badly suited,” Flora countered dryly. “Let us leave it at that.”

She could tell he did not want to go and leave her with the unconscionable mess of canceling a marriage on the wedding day itself. She could tell that every muscle in his body was straining to tell her the reason for his defection and to take the blame. She could even tell that he wanted her to lose her temper, to rant at him, scream and cry, because in doing so she would somehow lessen the intolerable guilt he was feeling.

It gave her a small amount of satisfaction to appear totally calm and to deny him that relief. She was human, after all.

She waited until he had gone out and Irwin, the butler, had closed the front door very firmly behind him, and then she went to find her mother and father and to tell them that their most cherished dream of seeing their daughter as a countess was over. And the relief to have been given a second chance at the future swelled in her heart until she felt as though she was going to burst.

“YOU WILL HAVE HEARD the news, of course,” Mrs. Morton, the draper, said as she wrapped up a parcel of blue spotted muslin for Lizzie. “Miss Minchin has cried off from her wedding this very morning!” She reached for the string and tied an expert knot. “I feel most distraught-a number of ladies have purchased gowns and bonnets from me for the event and now no one will see them! It is very unfortunate and most inconsiderate of Miss Minchin. And why whistle an Earl down the wind when one is only a banker’s daughter? Do you think she has had a better offer? A Duke? Are there any dukes newly arrived in the village? That is thirty-six shillings and sixpence, if you please, Lady Elizabeth. Have you taken up dressmaking? You never buy cloth here.”

“Yes,” Lizzie said. She fumbled in her purse for some coins. She felt a little strange. I am tired, she thought. I did not sleep well. That is all. She tried to concentrate on finding the money but her head was buzzing.

Flora had cried off from the wedding. That was not meant to happen. Nat was supposed to be getting married in three hours time. He was going to the Lake District and from there to Water House near York, and she was never going to have to see him again, and she could keep on pretending that the events of the previous night had never occurred…

“Thirty-six shillings, Lady Elizabeth,” Mrs. Morton said, a little sharply. “And in ready money, if you please, rather than notes. I don’t trust the banks.”

“Of course,” Lizzie said numbly. She put some coins randomly on the counter. She was feeling very hot. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come into the village. She had not wanted to sit around at Fortune Hall in case Nat had called to see her, but neither had she wanted company. She was not sure why everything felt so difficult and complicated this morning. Her mind felt weighted with lead.

“I hear that most of the fortune hunters have left the village now that almost all the heiresses are wed,” Mrs. Morton said, counting out her change. The soft clink of the coins seemed very loud and made Lizzie’s head hurt. “A pity. Your half brother’s plan to fleece all the ladies of their money was good for many businesses here because it brought in so much new custom. I suppose it is not worth a gentleman the cost of a journey from London now that there are no more fortunes to be had.”

“I imagine not,” Lizzie said. “And good riddance to them. I am glad,” she added, “that Monty has been thwarted in his plans to use the Dames’ Tax to take half of our dowries. His money-grabbing ways are a total disgrace.”

“The man’s a greedy whoremonger,” Mrs. Morton said, with great relish, “and his brother’s no better! The way young Tom treated little Miss Cole…Well, she’s never going to be able to make a respectable marriage now, is she?” Mrs. Morton shook her head. “And now Miss Minchin as well-I wonder what the scandal is there? For there has to be some, Lady Elizabeth. No girl calls off her wedding on the very morning of the ceremony unless there’s scandal afoot. You mark my words!”