Читать онлайн книгу «Married By Christmas» автора Anne Herries

Married By Christmas
Anne Herries
Josephine Horne ignores convention. She never intends to marry, so why should she be hedged about with rules? When loyalty to a friend demands Jo risk her own reputation, she doesn't hesitate. Then she meets handsome Harry Beverley, and her ideas about marriage begin to change….Hal must marry for duty, and already has a respectable bride in mind. His attraction to the unruly, rebellious Miss Horne is ridiculous! Both Hal and Jo have a lesson to learn-and Christmas is the season of forgiveness and love!



“I am sure I have done nothing wrong!”
Her cheeks were hot. She knew very well what people might say of her, and for a moment she was conscious of a deep regret, because clearly Hal thought she was ruined.
“My dear girl, you must be an idiot if you truly believe that,” Hal said. “And I know you are not, which means you have been reckless and foolish with no thought for your reputation—or mine.”
She knew herself in the wrong, but pride kept her from confessing it. “I do not mind if some think ill of me, for Mama and my sisters will not. I have no desire to mix in high society. Nor do I wish to marry….”
“That is beside the point.” He gave a sigh of exasperation.
“If anyone thinks ill of me they may do so,” Jo said hot-temperedly. “I am sure I do not give a fig!” It was not true, because she saw now exactly what she had lost. Any faint chance that Hal might have married her had gone, and the regret was sharp.
Married by Christmas
Harlequin
Historical

Author Note
Jo Horne considers that she is not as beautiful as her sister Marianne, who married a marquis, or her darling Lucy, who has her head full of dreams. She does not believe in love, and thinks that she will stay home with Mama and Aunt Bertha and write her stories, but first of all she must accompany Aunt Wainwright to Bath. Jo does not like her mama’s sister, but she has no choice, for a promise was given. She is not looking for love, but when she meets the handsome Hal Beverley her “wicked earl” suddenly begins to behave like a hero—and then Jo is swept away into an adventure that may ruin her.
I hope that you will enjoy Jo’s story. Look for Lucy’s in Marrying Captain Jack, coming soon.

Married by Christmas
Anne Herries



ANNE HERRIES
Award-winning author Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, England. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books—although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She invites readers to contact her on her Web site, www.lindasole.co.uk.

Available from Harlequin
Historical and Anne Herries
The Abducted Bride #135
Captive of the Harem #145
The Sheikh #157
Rosalyn and the Scoundrel #166
A Matter of Honor #173
*A Perfect Knight #180
*A Knight of Honor #184
*Her Knight Protector #188
**Lady in Waiting #202
**The Adventurer’s Wife #208
‡Forbidden Lady #209
†An Improper Companion #227
‡The Lord’s Forced Bride #231
†A Wealthy Widow #235
†A Worthy Gentleman #243
‡Her Dark and Dangerous Lord #249
††Marianne and the Marquis #258
††Married by Christmas #261

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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Afterword

Chapter One
‘Damn you, Harry,’ Lord Beverley said and glared at his son. ‘I should have thought that you would want to do your duty by the estate now that your brother is dead…’ Pain showed briefly in the father’s eyes, for the death of his elder son coming on top of their estrangement was hard to bear. ‘You have hardly been in this house since you left the army, sir. I demand that you spend more time here learning about the way the estate is run. It will come hard to you when I am gone and it is all on your shoulders.’
Hal bit back the angry words that rose to his lips. A part of him wanted to tell his father exactly why he had no time to waste languishing at the estate, but he knew that his mission would not find favour in Lord Beverley’s eyes. If he knew that Hal was searching for Matt’s wife he would quite probably forbid him to go on—and it was impossible to tell him about his suspicions that Matt’s death had not been an accident. As yet he had no proof, just a feeling that there had to be some other reason for an excellent horseman like Matt to die in a fall from his horse…that and some small inconsistencies in the stories that had been told him when he first learned of his brother’s death. It had left a shadow hanging over him in all he did, though none would have guessed it, for outwardly he was the smiling carefree young man he had always been.
Lord Beverley’s health was not all it should be and Hal was too dutiful—indeed, too fond—a son to cause his father unnecessary suffering, even if he did not agree with the way that he had treated Hal’s brother and his wife. He shrugged, hiding his true feelings behind a careless manner.
‘As to that, sir, I doubt you intend popping off just yet, which means I have plenty of time to learn. Besides, we have a very capable agent to run things at the estate and several good men who know their job.’ He grinned engagingly. ‘If I were to interfere with anything, you would soon send me packing. And I have arranged to meet some fellows at Newmarket. You wouldn’t have me break my word?’ He had no intention of going to Newmarket, but better that his father believed he was wasting his time and money on the horses than that he should know the truth.
‘You imagine that everything is a joke,’ his enraged father said. ‘I sometimes think that you will laugh as they put you into your grave, sir!’
‘It is something I picked up in the army, Father. We all learned to laugh at life, otherwise we should have cracked up.’
‘You should never have been in the army at all,’ Lord Beverley said. ‘It was bad enough that your brother defied me—and as for marrying that girl!’ He shook his head. ‘He could have done much better than that, Harry. Her father is a rogue and a fool! I want your promise that you will find yourself a decent girl and marry her before six months is out. We need an heir for the estate.’
‘Yes, Father. I am aware of your feelings on that matter. I can only say that I will do my best to oblige you if it is at all possible.’
‘Surely you can pick a suitable girl from all those you must meet in the best drawing rooms in London?’ his father said, clearly displeased with his answer. ‘Your brother defied me and married a girl I could not welcome into the family. I disowned him. Don’t make me do the same to you, Harry.’
‘What you did to Matt was your own affair, sir,’ Hal said, meeting his father’s eyes with a challenge of equal determination. ‘If you can live with your conscience then do so, but I should have thought you had learned a serious lesson.’
Ignoring the spluttering anger coming from his father, he turned and walked from the library, which was often the warmest room in this cold and sometimes bleak house. Hal had his own smaller estate, which had been left to him by his rather notorious grandmother, whom he had adored. It was a modern, comfortable house and was by far his favourite. He had never expected to inherit Beverley House or the estate, for he was the younger son and it should all have gone to his brother, Matthew. Matt would never have been in the army at all, except for the quarrel with his father. Matt had fallen in love with Ellen Rowley, the daughter of a wealthy wool merchant, and, as such, beneath his notice, according to Lord Beverley. He had advised his son to bed her and forget her, or keep her as his mistress and marry a girl from the right kind of family. Matt had ignored his father, marrying the girl he loved and taking her with him when he joined the army.
Ellen had become a camp follower, going wherever Matt went and accepting all the hardships of the campaign as if they were a natural part of a woman’s life. Hal had liked her. Had he been there when Matt had died, he would have taken her under his guardianship and looked after her. He had a useful income of his own, and was not financially reliant on his father. He could have afforded to see that she was able to live decently. However, he had been in England on leave when Matt had been killed in a riding accident. By the time he could get back to Spain, his brother had been buried and his sister-in-law had disappeared.
Hal had been looking for her ever since. He knew that she had a little money, for she had sold various possessions of her husband’s, and he had been told that it was her intention to return to England—but where she had gone since then, he had not been able to discover. He had been to her parents’ home, but her father had disowned her when she ran away with Matt Beverley. He had been equally as opposed to the marriage as Lord Beverley, and told Hal that they would not accept her if she returned home. He knew that she had not approached her father-in-law—and that meant she was trying to support herself by her own efforts. That might not have been so difficult, for Ellen was an attractive, intelligent woman—but Hal had been told that she was carrying a child.
The thought that his brother’s beloved wife was alone, perhaps in trouble, had given Hal many sleepless nights. He knew that he was running the risk of being disinherited if he continued to spend all his time searching for Ellen, but at this moment he didn’t care. He had already made up his mind that he would marry a suitable girl for the sake of the heir that his father so desperately wanted, but felt that it was more important to discover Ellen’s whereabouts first. And there was also the matter of his brother’s death. He had been broken-hearted when he discovered what had happened, and the suspicion that his brother’s death had been no accident had been gnawing at him for a while now. He must do what he could to discover the truth.
He had heard something from a friend of Matt’s, which had led him to hope that Ellen might be living in Bath. If that were the case, he might be able to kill two birds with one stone, because Chloe Marsham had just gone down to Bath with her mother and aunt.
Hal had almost decided that he would speak to Chloe. He wasn’t in love with her, but he liked her. She seemed to be a good-natured girl with a nice smile, and she liked horses. Since it was Hal’s hope to breed race horses once he had settled, either at his own estate or his father’s, having a wife who enjoyed riding and would not complain too much if he smelled of the stables sometimes would clearly be an advantage.
Matt had been head over heels in love with Ellen. Hal asked him once why he had thrown everything away for the sake of the girl he loved. Matt had just smiled in that easy way of his.
‘If you’re ever lucky enough to find the right girl for you, Hal, you will understand. Love isn’t something you choose—it comes along and knocks you for six and there’s nothing you can do about it. Father thought that I should have chosen to put my duty above my feelings for Ellen, but I couldn’t. That damned house he is so proud of is an empty barn as far as I’m concerned. I know it has been in the family for centuries, but if I had my way I would pull it down and build something newer. Without Ellen, I should have nothing to live for. She is my life, Hal, and I am hers.’
And now Matt was dead and Ellen had lost all that she loved—unless it was true that she was carrying Matt’s child. Hal was thoughtful as he went out to his curricle, where his groom was waiting. If the child was a boy, he would be the rightful heir, and he was welcome to the house and the estate for all Hal cared. It would be difficult to make Lord Beverley accept it, but Ellen had the papers to prove that she was Matt’s wife and in law he would be forced to accept her child as his heir—and that would cause one hell of a row.
Hal would face that when it came to it. First of all, he had to find Ellen and make sure that she was well and had sufficient money to live on. Everything else could wait.

Jo Horne kissed her mother’s cheek and then hugged her sister, Lucy. Mama smiled and told her to be a good girl, but Lucy had tears in her eyes and was reluctant to let her go.
‘I shall miss you dreadfully,’ Lucy said and blew her nose on the handkerchief her mama handed her. ‘But I do hope you have a lovely time in Bath, Jo—and write to me often, please, to tell me what is happening in your story?’
‘Yes, of course I shall,’ Jo promised, ‘and when I come home I shall read you all the new chapters I’ve written for my novel.’ She glanced over her shoulder, knowing that her Aunt Wainwright was impatient for her to join her in the carriage. ‘Goodbye, Aunt Bertha. Thank you for having me here—and please take care of Mama and Lucy for me.’
‘Of course I shall, Jo,’ Lady Edgeworthy said, though in truth she knew that Mrs Horne was taking care of her. She pressed a little purse of money into the girl’s hand and closed her fingers over it as Jo protested. ‘Write to all of us as often as you can. Have a wonderful time with Lady Wainwright, and come home to us whenever you wish.’
‘Thank you,’ Jo said and kissed her cheek. ‘You are so generous, but I must go now. Aunt Wainwright has called for me twice.’
She walked to where the heavy travelling coach stood ready, turning for one last look at her family lined up in front of the house. A brave smile in place, she waved and then climbed into the coach. Lady Wainwright gave her a sour look, her harsh features bearing the stamp of irritation.
‘So you are ready at last, Josephine! I thought you would never make up your mind to leave. I hope this isn’t a sample of what I may expect from you in Bath. I think I deserve some consideration from you!’
‘Yes, of course, Aunt,’ Jo said. ‘Forgive me if I kept you waiting, but Lucy did not want to let me go. She has lost both her sisters now that Marianne is married, and it has upset her. She will have no one to share her pastimes.’
‘No doubt you will be returning at the end of a few weeks,’ Lady Wainwright said with a sniff of disapproval. ‘It will do her good to learn to be alone for a while. She is no longer a child, and must learn to employ her time usefully rather than playing foolish games.’
Jo was tempted to retaliate, for she did not like to hear Lady Wainwright speak so harshly of Lucy, but remembering what her elder sister had said to her before she married, about not quarrelling with their aunt, she held her tongue. It was to have been Marianne who was taken to Bath by Lady Wainwright, for she was the beauty of the family. Instead, Marianne had come down to Cornwall to be with Great-aunt Bertha, and by being there had saved her from a rogue who had tried to cheat her out of her estate and might have murdered her. Lady Edgeworthy had been so grateful that she had asked Marianne’s whole family to come and live with her. Now Marianne was married to her marquis and Jo was the one to accompany Aunt Wainwright to Bath.
Jo was under no illusions that her aunt was satisfied with the arrangement. She would have much preferred to take Marianne, but Jo’s beautiful sister had made an excellent marriage with no help from anyone. Jo suspected that Aunt Wainwright was a little annoyed about that, because she had told them that, as Marianne had no dowry, she would be lucky to marry a baronet, but might do so if her aunt introduced her into society. It had piqued her to know that Marianne had made an even better marriage than her daughter Annette, and her uncertain temper seemed sharper than ever.
‘Well, has the cat got your tongue?’
Jo looked at her aunt, considering her reply carefully. ‘I was just wondering where Marianne and Lord Marlbeck are now. I believe they were to travel to his estate for a few days before going on board the ship.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Lady Wainwright said and sniffed again disapprovingly. ‘In my day we did not bother with long honeymoons. Your uncle took me to Devon for two weeks and then we returned to his estate. I do not think that I should care to be jolted over foreign roads.’
‘It would be exciting to see Italy. I have seen pictures of various treasures of art and architecture, of course, but to visit them…to see Venice…would be wonderful.’
‘I dare say you will have to content yourself with pictures,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘Marianne may have married a marquis, but it is not likely to happen to you, Josephine. That hair of yours is much too wild to be attractive. You must hide it or pull it back into a knot so that it is at least tidy.’
‘Yes, I know it is awful,’ Jo replied. The one thing she could agree with her aunt about was her hair, which was a flame red and curled into tight ringlets about her head. No matter how she scraped it back or pinned it up, it always escaped and came tumbling down, and she hated it. She wished that she might have had Marianne’s honey gold hair—or Lucy’s, which was a pale shining silver, almost like moonbeams. Lucy was going to be a beauty to rival Marianne one day, but Jo knew that she was the plain member of the family. Her features were regular and she looked well enough wearing her bonnet, but her hair made her look like a gypsy. Papa had always said so, though he said it with affection, which had taken the sting from the truth of his words. ‘I do try my best, Aunt, but it is difficult to control.’
‘Well, I dare say it does not matter,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘You are not likely to take Bath by storm and must settle for a respectable gentleman of small fortune if you wish to marry.’
‘As I do not wish to marry,’ Jo replied with as much dignity as she could muster, ‘I agree that it hardly matters what I look like. I shall stay at home, do good works and be a comfort to my mother and Great-aunt Bertha.’
Lady Wainwright gave her an awful look. Jo knew that she had aroused her aunt’s ire once again, but it seemed that she did so all the time, even when she tried to be uncontroversial. She turned to glance out of the window. This visit to Bath was going to seem very long!

‘We shall stay here for the night,’ Lady Wainwright announced as she looked round the comfortable inn parlour. ‘It was my intention to go straight to Bath, as you know, but that unfortunate business with the horse going lame has made us late. I am too weary to go further this evening. Tomorrow will do well enough.’
‘Yes, Aunt, of course,’ Jo said for she too was a little tired from the journey. ‘Does the landlord have rooms for us?’
‘Millicent will have to sleep in your room,’ Lady Wainwright told her. ‘But that is a small thing. Besides, in a public place like this it is better if a young girl does not sleep alone.’
Jo sighed inwardly, but knew that she could not refuse to have her aunt’s personal maid in her room. It would be inconvenient, because she knew that Millicent snored, but, listening to a burst of laughter from across the room, she thought it might be as well. There was a party of young gentlemen enjoying their supper, and by the sound of it they were drinking a little too much wine.
One of them was staring at her very hard, and she drew her eyes away, annoyed that he should look at her in such a way. It was rude and made her uncomfortable, for she had not put up her hair; now that she had removed her fashionable bonnet, the hair fell about her face and tumbled down her back in a riot of untidy curls. She had seen Lady Wainwright glance at it twice, and put her hand up defensively, wishing that she had scraped it back in her usual style.
As the evening progressed, the noise from the young gentlemen increased and Jo was glad when her aunt said that they ought to go upstairs. She was not in the least tired, but she could amuse herself with her scribbling for an hour or so before she slept.
One of the young gentlemen had left the dining parlour, but came back in as she and her aunt were leaving. His eyes seemed to mock her and he stood deliberately in her path so that to pass she would have to squeeze by him.
‘Would you mind allowing me to pass, sir?’
‘I might,’ he said, the suggestion of a leer on his lips. ‘Then again, I might not…’
‘Please, I must follow my aunt.’
Lady Wainwright became aware of her predicament and looked back. ‘Kindly allow my niece to pass, sir—or I shall call the landlord and ask for his assistance!’
The gentleman scowled at her but stood aside, though Jo could feel his eyes following her as she began to walk up the stairs to the room her aunt had reserved for her. At that moment she was very glad that her aunt’s maid was to sleep in her room—there was something about the man’s eyes that had sent shivers down her spine. She was certain that he was not a very nice person at all. She heard a shout of laughter as he rejoined his friends, and blushed, knowing that she must be under discussion.
Lifting her head, she hurried up the stairs. She had not liked the gentleman one little bit and hoped that she would never have to see him again, but he would make a perfect villain in the book she was planning. He was a role model for her wicked earl if ever there were one!

‘Well, what did you think of her?’ Ralph Carstairs asked of the gentleman sitting to his right as he sipped his wine. ‘Not a true beauty, perhaps—but something out of the ordinary, I think. There was pride in her eyes and a hidden fire beneath that cool exterior.’
‘Yes, attractive enough, I grant you,’ Hal Beverley said. ‘But she is not for you, Carstairs. That dragon will keep all but those of pure heart and mind from her door. I assure you that you will not be allowed to get near—and rightly so, my dear fellow.’
Carstairs gave a shout of coarse laughter. ‘You are right about the aunt. I know Wainwright slightly and I believe she leads him a dog’s life. No wonder he kept a high flyer in town for years!’
‘Well, we’ve all done that,’ Hal agreed, though he had not done so for some months, since he left Spain and returned home to search for his sister-in-law. ‘But you have a taste for the forbidden, Carstairs, and I can tell you now that she is not for you—or any of your ilk. It will be marriage or nothing for that young lady, as it should be.’
‘Don’t turn the prude on me,’ Carstairs said with a frown. ‘Madeline was a hot-tempered beauty. We all envied you her favours.’
‘And sampled them as soon as my back was turned,’ Hal said, for he knew that the Spanish beauty had taken lovers as and when she desired. ‘I did not grudge her to you, my friend. She was too much of a firebrand for me—a man would have to give his soul to satisfy her needs.’
‘But the little redhead has something of her look, did you not think so?’
‘I saw nothing of it,’ Hal said, ‘but then I did not stare at her all evening as you did, Carstairs.’ He grinned lazily. ‘I dare say you have given her nightmares. And now you must excuse me, my friend. I think I shall go for a walk before I retire.’
Hal left the others to continue their roistering and went outside into the cool of the night air. It was a cursed nuisance coming across Carstairs and the others. He did not want to become involved with them, and hoped they were, as they had told him, en route to a mill and would not turn up in Bath.
Carstairs had begged him to join them on their expedition, but Hal had pleaded business. Indeed, he had business of his own in Bath, but it was of a personal nature. Carstairs would know Matt’s wife, as would one or two of the others, and for the moment he wanted to keep his mission a secret. He would help Ellen if he found her, but the news that she was expecting Matt’s child would need to be broken gently to Lord Beverley, for a sudden shock of that nature might kill him.

Jo looked out of the window before she was ready to sleep. Her aunt’s maid had not yet come up, but it could not be long now. It was a clear night, the moonlight falling on the inn yard and turning it golden, hiding all the scars of daytime so that it looked mysterious and vaguely beautiful.
She saw a man standing alone in the yard. He seemed to be staring at the moon, or perhaps he was just taking the air before retiring, which she would have liked to do had it been possible. She thought that he was one of the young men who had been making so much noise earlier, though not the one who had stared at her. He had been quieter than the others, thoughtful, though their eyes had met once before she looked quickly away.
She turned as the door of her bedchamber opened and Millicent entered.
‘Not in bed yet, miss?’ the maid asked. ‘I am sorry to disturb you, but it was the only room available.’
‘Not at all,’ Jo said with a smile, because she liked the woman. ‘I am glad to have you here. Some of the gentlemen downstairs are a little the worse for drink.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Millicent said. ‘Well, I shall be here—and we’ll make sure to lock the door, miss.’
‘Yes.’ Jo smiled at her and ran to get into bed because she had turned cold. Thankfully, it was a large feather mattress and they would not be too cramped.

Jo was up early in the morning. She had not slept well, for Millicent had snored most of the night, and she was glad to get up and go downstairs. It was not yet time for breakfast, but she wanted to walk outside for a little to clear a slight headache.
She saw some of the servants beginning their work as she went out into the yard and began to walk towards what looked like a pleasant garden at the rear. It was still chilly for the sun had not yet come out, and Jo hugged her shawl about her shoulders. As she entered the garden, she saw that the man who had blocked her path the previous evening was sitting on a bench, and looked as if he had just doused his head in water. He was stripped to the waist, his tanned skin exposed to the elements.
‘Oh…’ She hesitated as he looked up and saw her. ‘Forgive me…’
Jo turned away immediately, for it was embarrassing to come upon a gentleman in such circumstances.
‘You don’t get away that easily, my lovely,’ the man said and stood up. Before Jo could move away, he came up to her, taking hold of her arm, grinning at her in a manner she could only think of as suggestive.
‘Please let me go,’ Jo said. ‘I did not realise that anyone was here.’
‘Spying on me, were you?’ Carstairs said, a mocking grin on his face. ‘Don’t run away, little witch. I saw you looking at me last night. Your guardian isn’t here now. We could have a little fun together…’
‘No!’ Jo was suddenly aware that no one else was about and a sliver of fear went through her. ‘I have no wish to know you, sir. I must go in or my aunt will look for me…’
‘You shall pay a forfeit before I let you go,’ Carstairs said and grabbed hold of her. ‘I’ll take a kiss at least for my trouble.’
‘Let her go, Carstairs!’
Jo heard the voice behind her. She had not realised that anyone was there, but his command had an instant effect for the man let go of her and she pulled away. Turning, she found herself looking at the gentleman she had seen contemplating the moonlight the previous night. Seeing him close to for the first time, Jo realised that he was very good looking with his dark hair and eyes, and a firm chin that spoke volumes of his determination.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘I must go in before I am missed.’
‘You would have done better not to come out at all,’ Hal told her sharply. ‘An inn yard is not the right place for a young lady alone—especially at this early hour when few are about.’
‘I dare say you are right,’ Jo said and walked quickly away. She did not dare to look back, though she knew that a heated exchange was going on behind her.
‘Damn you for interfering,’ Carstairs said. ‘I only meant to kiss the girl!’
‘I know what you intended, and a kiss was the least of it,’ Hal said. ‘We are in England now and there is no war—no excuse for that kind of behaviour. I know what occurred at Badajoz and we don’t want that kind of thing happening here.’
‘You can’t blame me for what happened there,’ Carstairs said, but he could not meet Hal’s stern gaze. ‘The men were out of control, driven by bloodlust and the needs of a long campaign.’
‘I blame no one for anything that happened out there,’ Hal said. ‘We were all driven a little mad by it—but that was war. The girl you were molesting is innocent and deserves to be treated with good manners and respect.’
‘Well, no harm was done,’ Carstairs said, giving him an uneasy look, for he knew that he wasn’t up to Hal’s weight and would go down under a hammer blow from him. He would need a pistol in his hand to stand a chance against him. And the time might yet come when he would need it. ‘She has run back to her dragon of an aunt and I dare say that is the last I shall see of her.’
‘Take my hand,’ Hal said. ‘We should not be bad friends over this, Carstairs.’
‘Come to the mill with us,’ Carstairs invited again as he took Hal’s hand in a show of friendship that was not felt. ‘I can promise you a good time.’
‘Thank you, but I was on my way,’ Hal said. ‘Perhaps we shall meet in town?’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Carstairs said, an angry glint in his eyes as he watched Hal walk away. Arrogant devil! Beverley and his clique had always thought themselves above everyone else—but that hadn’t saved Matt Beverley from breaking his neck in a fall from his horse. A fall that might just have had a little assistance…‘And perhaps you may meet with a similar fate to your brother’s one day, my fine fellow.’

Jo glanced round the Pump Room, sighing as she saw that almost everyone was of her aunt’s age. This was the fourth time they had been here in a week, and she was finding it tedious, but at least they were to attend the Assembly that evening, where she hoped at last to meet some young people.
‘I think I shall bathe,’ Lady Wainwright announced suddenly, surprising Jo out of her reverie. ‘There is no need for you to stay, Josephine. You may visit the library or do some shopping if you wish. I shall take my nuncheon here and we shall meet for tea at home.’
‘Thank you, Aunt,’ Jo said feeling grateful that she was not required to accompany her aunt into the baths. ‘I hope you enjoy your bathing.’
‘It is not a matter of enjoyment,’ Lady Wainwright told her. ‘I am doing this for my health.’
‘Yes, Aunt,’ Jo said. ‘Is there anything I may fetch you from the shops?’
‘Yes, I should like half a pound of peppermint creams from the teashop near the library. Make sure they give you fresh stock and not something that has been tucked away under the counter for weeks.’
‘Yes, Aunt. I shall ask for fresh.’
Jo made her escape before her aunt could change her mind. It was only rarely that she was allowed to go off on her own, though she had managed to join a ladies’ debating circle and had attended their weekly meeting. Her aunt had allowed it because one of her friends had suggested that Jo might like to join, and had entertained Lady Wainwright while Jo was visiting a house just a few doors away. It was a treat to have the freedom to do as she wished for most of the day.
She lingered to look in a few of the fashionable shop windows, admiring the expensive items on display, but was not tempted to buy anything. Her aunt had seen that she had an adequate wardrobe for their visit, and Jo thought that the two bonnets she and Marianne had made were equally as stylish as anything that could be bought in the milliner’s. One shop had a display of gold and silver articles, and a little silver box caught her eye, because it had a singing bird that popped up when it was opened and sang a tune. She had seen one like it at the house of Lady Eccles, who was here for her health like Aunt Wainwright. She had admired it when she was shown how it worked, and thought that, if she could have afforded it, she would have loved to buy one for Lucy. She had spent only a few shillings from the purse Lady Edgeworthy had pressed on her before she left. If she had sufficient when it was time to return to Sawlebridge, she might ask the price of the fascinating trinket.
As she turned away from the window, she almost collided with a gentleman. He grabbed her arm to steady her, and she found herself gazing up into his face as she thanked him, the words dying on her lips as she saw that he was looking at her very boldly, his dark eyes warm with laughter, his mouth curving wickedly at the corners. For a moment she had the oddest notion that he wanted to kiss her, and her eyes widened in surprise, because it was the man she had seen gazing at the moon—the same one that had saved her from a rough handling by that other one in the inn yard.
‘Forgive me. I was not thinking…’ Jo’s cheeks flushed, for she was a little embarrassed because of what had happened at the inn, but he did not seem to recall it—he was behaving as if they had never met before. ‘I am sorry.’
‘Take care, sweeting,’ he said. ‘I might have knocked you down and I should have been grievously sorry for that—indeed, I should never have forgiven myself.’
‘It would have been my own fault, sir,’ Jo said. She stepped back and he let go of her arm. She decided that she would follow his lead. Perhaps he had already forgotten her. ‘I was thinking of my sister, Lucy, and how much she would like that singing bird in the window and I did not realise that you were there.’
‘Ah, yes, a pretty trinket,’ the man said glancing into the shop window. ‘Is your sister partial to trinkets of that kind?’
‘She has never had such a thing,’ Jo replied. ‘But she is a dreamer, a romantic, and I think she would love it, but I am afraid it may be too expensive.’
‘Yes, I dare say. Perhaps she has a birthday soon? Shall I buy it for her to make up for startling you?’
‘Oh, no!’ Jo was mortified. What kind of a girl did he think she was? ‘I could never accept…What an extraordinary thing to ask! How could I possibly accept such a gift from a stranger?’
‘How can we be strangers?’ he said a wicked twinkle in his eye. ‘I already know that you have a delightful sister called Lucy, and I am sure we could soon know each other better, if you would permit me to buy you some…hot chocolate, perhaps?’ His eyes were filled with devilment, a challenge that she found confusing.
‘Sir! I think you must have mistaken me for…’ Jo was torn between outrage and astonishment. ‘I am a perfectly respectable person! What happened that morning at the inn was not of my making, I do assure you.’
Hal looked thoughtful. He had not immediately recognised her, for she had acquired a little town bronze over the past few days, and his mind had been occupied elsewhere. He had merely been flirting gently with a pretty girl. Seeing the outrage in her face, he was suddenly overcome by a wicked desire to tease her, to see how far she would go.
‘Oh, yes, I am very sure of it,’ he said and she saw that he was laughing inside. ‘Perfectly respectable, if a little reckless. But Carstairs is a brute and a fool. If I spoke harshly to you then, I am sorry. My anger was for him, not you. You are a lady of quality and deserve respect. You are also irresistible when your eyes take fire. I feel that I have always known you, though not your name—for you have not given it to me. Mine is Hal Beverley, should you wish to know it.’
Jo gave him a straight look. ‘Are you inebriated, sir?’
His laughter shocked her, because it was so honest and appealing. ‘It is a question that is often asked. My father says that I am an irreverent rascal, but I assure you that my offer was made in good faith. You have a sister who would love a pretty trinket and I have money in my pocket—but forgive me if I have offended your sense of propriety.’
‘No, you have not,’ Jo said and surprised herself. ‘Do you know, that is exactly what Papa might have done had he been able to afford it. He often gave his sixpences to the village children.’
‘Perhaps another day we shall talk again,’ he said and tipped his hat to her. ‘Excuse me now, I must go, for I am already late for an appointment. Take care and watch where you tread. I should be most distressed if harm were to come to you.’
‘Yes, I shall…’Jo watched as he walked away. His hair was very dark brown and he had such bold eyes—just like the wicked earl in the story she was writing. She smiled—she had written of just such a meeting in her story only that morning.
Jo shook her head. She must not let her imagination run wild—that was for her stories, not for everyday life. She walked on, tired of window-shopping. She must hurry, for she was not perfectly sure what time the library closed. Jo paused to cross the road, waiting for a dray wagon drawn by four magnificent chestnut horses to pass by. A woman had just come out of the library; as Jo watched, she gave a little sigh and collapsed on to the pavement.
Jo hurried across the road now that it was clear and knelt down beside her, feeling for a pulse, which was still beating strongly. Even as she wondered what she ought to do, the woman moaned again and opened her eyes.
‘Oh, I must have fainted,’ she said. ‘Forgive me, but could you help me to get up?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Jo said offering her hand. The woman took it and pulled on her as she struggled to stand up. As she did so, her shawl fell from her shoulders and Jo saw that she was quite obviously carrying a child. She retrieved the shawl and placed it about the woman’s shoulders. ‘Are you still feeling a little unwell?’
‘Just a little,’ the woman replied in a faint voice. ‘If I could sit down for a few minutes…’
‘Let us go into the teashop.’ Jo said and offered her arm. ‘Lean on me and we shall drink a dish of tea together—and perhaps a cake, if you feel able?’
‘Yes, that would be nice,’ the woman said. ‘I was in a hurry to come out this morning and did not eat anything. I believe that may be the reason for my faintness.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Jo said. ‘You really ought to eat properly in your condition, ma’am.’ She had noticed the wedding ring on the woman’s left hand. ‘Would you like me to fetch someone for you—your husband, perhaps?’
For a moment her eyes were dark with pain. ‘My husband is dead and there is no one else. I am forced to fend for myself, and that is why I was in such a hurry this morning. I am working as a seamstress from home, and I had promised to deliver some embroidery I had finished to one of the shops here. I ought to have gone straight home afterwards, but I wanted to look for a book in the library. Let me introduce myself—my name is Ellen Beverley.’
‘I am very sorry to hear about your husband,’ Jo said. She had found a table for them by the window and they sat down. ‘It must be awful for you, especially in your condition.’
Ellen placed a hand on her swollen belly and smiled. ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Matt’s child is a joy to me. Had it not been for the baby, I think I might have given way to despair when he died, but I had to live for my child’s sake—because my husband would have expected it of me. He was a brave, kind man, and I shall love his child as I loved him.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Jo said. She had wondered for a brief moment if she might be related to the man she had met briefly outside the jeweller’s that morning. His name was also Beverley, but it was clearly not so—Ellen had said she was alone. Her name was simply a coincidence. ‘But is there no one who could help you?’
‘I ran away to marry the man I loved,’ Ellen told her with a wistful look. ‘My parents disapproved and so did his—but we loved each other and there was never any question of giving each other up. We had almost a year of complete happiness, but now…’ She sighed and shook her head.
Jo thought she looked very young and vulnerable, though exceptionally pretty with softly waving fair hair and green eyes.
‘Perhaps we could be friends, at least while I am in Bath,’ she offered impulsively. ‘I know it will only be for a short time, but we may write to each other when I go home—and if you are ever in trouble I would try to help you.’
‘Oh, how kind you are,’ Ellen said. ‘I do not believe you have told me your name.’
‘How silly of me,’ Jo said and laughed. ‘I was too concerned for you to think of it. I am Jo Horne and staying here in Bath with my aunt, Lady Wainwright. I used to live in Huntingdonshire, but when I leave here I shall be living with Great-aunt Bertha in Cornwall.
‘My whole family has gone to live with her, because Papa died and we had to leave the Vicarage. We were offered a home at the Lodge, but Mama did not like it there and poor Lucy was ill, and so we shall all live with my great-aunt from now on, but I was promised to Lady Wainwright for this visit.’ Jo pulled a face. ‘And now you know all there is to know about me, and very dull it is, too, compared with your life—’ She broke off as the waitress approached and ordered tea and cakes for them both. She held up her hand as Ellen reached for her purse. ‘No, you shall not pay a penny, Ellen—I may call you that, I hope?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Ellen said, her smile lighting up her face. ‘I am so very pleased that we have met, Jo. I was feeling very alone—I do not go out much, except to deliver my work or look in shop windows. I have no friends, for my old companions were left behind, though of course we had many friends in Spain.’
‘Was your husband a soldier?’
‘Yes,’ Ellen replied her eyes soft with memories. ‘Captain Matthew Beverley. He always took a little house for us wherever we were, and all his friends would come and dine with us. It was such fun, for they were all so brave and gallant…and it broke our hearts when some of them died. Not many of them had wives with them, but one or two did, and another had his sister and mother. They used to follow him from place to place, as I did Matt, staying wherever there was a house that was safe and away from the fighting.’
‘It must have been exciting,’ Jo said. ‘Though I should think it was hard having no proper home for all that time.’
‘I would have been content to lie with him beneath the stars,’ Ellen said. ‘Indeed, once or twice I did when there was no suitable accommodation to be had. I do not know what would have happened if Matt had lived, for I should have had to stay behind somewhere because of the child. Though perhaps he might have sold out like some of his friends did…’ A tear trickled from the corner of her eye and she dashed it away with her hand.
‘Are you able to make a living with your sewing?’ Jo asked, for she did not like to see her new friend cry, but could think of no way to comfort her.
‘I am quite good at embroidery and bead work,’ Ellen told her. ‘It is the kind of work that takes a lot of patience and time, and the French lady I work for has been generous so far. Besides, I have some money I raised by selling things that belonged to my husband. I shall manage for the moment, though I am a little anxious about when the child comes.’
‘Yes, you must be,’ Jo sympathised. She wished that Mama was still living in the Vicarage, for she knew that her mother would have befriended Ellen, even if only until the child was born and she was able to work again. ‘But you must find a woman who will come in and care for you, Ellen.’
‘I shall have to make inquiries,’ Ellen agreed. ‘It is so good to talk to someone, because it helps to make up your mind. I hope we shall meet again, Jo?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Jo said. ‘If you agree, I shall walk home with you once we have had our tea, and then I shall know where to visit you.’
‘Will you really?’ Ellen’s cheeks turned a little pink. ‘I know that some ladies look at me and wonder if I was ever truly married, but I promise you that it was so.’
‘I did not doubt you for a moment,’ Jo said, and then, boldly, ‘Even if you had not, I should still have been your friend, Ellen.’
‘Then you would be a true friend,’ Ellen said. ‘These cakes are delicious. You must come to tea with me another day, to let me say thank you for your kindness today.’
‘I need no thanks,’ Jo told her. ‘But I shall be very pleased to come to tea with you, Ellen.’
She smiled as they left the teashop together, for she had made a friend, someone she could truly like and relate to, which was not true of many of her aunt’s acquaintances. At least she now had someone she could visit whenever she had the time.

Chapter Two
Jo was thoughtful as she walked home after leaving the rooms where Ellen was lodging. They were respectable, though a little cramped, and were bound to be more so once the child was born. Ellen had put her individual stamp on them, her table covered in a pretty lace cloth, and her books and sewing on the table she used for her work. She had not apologised for her home, and Jo thought she was very brave to have accepted her circumstances the way she had, for she had clearly been used to better.
They had talked for a long time, and Ellen had told her about her parents’ home, which was a substantial house in Hampshire. Her father was the son of a wealthy merchant, and had been well educated, becoming even richer than his father had been.
‘He was determined that I should be properly brought up and I had a French governess,’ Ellen told her. ‘Father wanted me to be a lady—but when I wanted to marry Matt he was angry, because Lord Beverley would not accept me. He said that he was the equal of any aristocrat and that he would not allow me to marry the son of a bigot—and so we were forced to run away.’
‘Do you not think that your father would welcome you home?’
‘No, for we married at Gretna Green, and my father said that it was no true marriage. He said that I would be living in sin and that he wanted no more to do with me—and if he knew about the child he might demand that I give it up. He is a very religious man, Jo—and I think he would punish me for going against his wishes.’
‘I see…’ Jo felt sympathy for her. She realised how fortunate she had been in her parents, for Papa would never have behaved in such a fashion. He would have offered love and understanding, and forgiveness if it were necessary. ‘But what of your mama?’
‘Mama might forgive me,’ Ellen said, ‘but my father would not allow her to see me. I have wanted to write to her and tell her that I am well, but I am afraid that she might show him the letter.’
‘Surely she would not,’ Jo said. ‘Besides, you need not tell her that you are in Bath, Ellen. I am sure she worries about you, even if she dare not show it.’
‘Do you think so?’ Ellen looked wistful. ‘Perhaps I should write her a brief letter—as long as I do not tell her where I am, Father cannot come after me.’
‘It might be of comfort to her, and you,’ Jo said and on impulse kissed her cheek before leaving her to walk back to the house in Queen Square.
It was as she was nearing their lodgings that Jo saw a gentleman walking towards her. She could not mistake him, for he had immense presence and such an air of command.
‘We meet again,’ he said, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘This must be my fortunate day…’
Jo laughed—there was a distinct challenge in his eyes, and it made her feel ridiculously pleased with life. ‘I do not see why, sir, for I almost trod on your toes the last time.’
‘I would gladly suffer such torments a thousand times to have the pleasure of your company, sweet lady. I must call you that, for you have not yet given me your name.’
‘I think you are flirting with me, sir.’
‘Perhaps, a little.’ Hal grinned suddenly. ‘No, I should not tease you, but there is something about you that is most delightful to tease. However, I shall not delay you—I dare say you are supposed to be somewhere else.’
‘My aunt is waiting for me,’ Jo told him. She felt the desire to laugh as he looked at her so expectantly, and yet she did not give him her name. He was a wicked flirt and she would not be drawn by his teasing. ‘Excuse me, sir. Perhaps we shall meet again in company…’
He doffed his hat to her with a flourish, but made no attempt to prevent her going on. Jo smiled because he had lifted her spirits once more, lifting the slight cloud that had hung over her since she had learned of Ellen’s sad story.
As she entered the house, Jo saw that her aunt’s hat was on the sideboard in the hall and suddenly realised that it was past four. She had completely forgotten both the time, and, she realised guiltily, her aunt’s peppermint creams. All thought of them had flown as she talked to Ellen. She had not even visited the library, which she had particularly wanted to do.
‘Josephine!’ Lady Wainwright said coming out into the hall. ‘Where have you been all this time? I particularly asked you to be here for tea. Mrs Marsham brought her daughter, Chloe, to meet you, and she was most offended that you had not bothered to be here.’
‘I am sorry, Aunt,’ Jo said. ‘I met someone and stayed talking to her. She was a little unwell and I walked home with her. Forgive me.’
‘Who was this person? Respectable, I hope?’
‘Oh, yes, Aunt, very respectable,’ Jo said. ‘Mrs Ellen Beverley.’
‘I have not heard the name. One of the Hampshire family, I dare say. Well, you may introduce her to me and I shall decide if she is a fit person for my niece to know.’
‘Yes, Aunt, certainly,’ Jo said, though she had no intention of it. ‘We are bound to meet one day, I dare say.’
Lady Wainwright’s brow clouded, for she suspected something, though she did not know what. Her niece looked too innocent to be true! ‘Did you buy my peppermint creams?’
‘They did not have any fresh ones,’ Jo lied, crossing her fingers behind her back. She did not like lying to her aunt, but had decided it was best in the circumstances. ‘I may get them tomorrow—they should have some in by then.’
‘Very well,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘You had better go up and change, Josephine. We are going to the Assembly this evening, as you know. We shall meet Mrs Marsham and Chloe there. Now she is a very well-behaved young girl and exceptionally pretty. If she decides to take you up, you will move in her circles and may meet a gentleman of property. The Marshams are quite well to do, though they do not have a title—which is a pity because there is a son, I believe, of somewhere around your age. Though I dare say he is looking to marry a title to improve his chances.’
‘If he is my age, I imagine he will not look to marry for some years,’ Jo said. ‘Drew is several years older than Marianne—and Papa was five years older than Mama.’
Lady Wainwright sniffed. ‘Do not imagine that every woman marries for love, Josephine. Most make marriages of convenience, which is as it should be, for how else would they live? You must be prepared to accept something less than your sister. Marianne was very pretty—and her temper was good.’
‘And mine is not, of course,’ Jo said, for she could not deny that she was inclined to be hasty at times. ‘I am aware that I am not pretty, Aunt, but I do not mind. If I married, it would be to someone I liked and respected, because I agree with you that it is not always possible to find love.’
Her head high, Jo walked up the stairs and along the landing to her own room. Her aunt’s comments were hurtful, but she would not allow them to dampen her spirits. She had not been enjoying her visit until today, despite all the delights that Bath offered, but now she had a friend, and she was determined to meet Ellen as often as she could. Of her encounter with a rather bold gentleman, she would not allow herself to think for more than a minute or two. It had been amusing, of course, but she would probably never see him again.

‘May I introduce my niece, Miss Josephine Horne,’ Lady Wainwright said later that evening. ‘Josephine, make your curtsy to Mrs Marsham and Miss Chloe.’
Jo dipped respectfully to the older lady, who was dressed in a gown of dark green velvet and looked very handsome for her age. Her daughter, standing elegantly beside her, was stunningly beautiful, her hair a shining gold, her eyes deep blue and her mouth softly pink. She was dressed in white as most young girls were that evening, the skirt embroidered heavily with pearls and pink crystals, a pink ribbon holding her fan from her wrist, and a spray of pink roses in her hair, fastened by a pink velvet band. About her neck she wore a double strand of expensive pink pearls with a diamond clasp.
Jo was wearing white also, and her mother’s pearls. Her hair had been dressed back in a strict knot and she wore some white silk flowers in her hair. Had she known it, she made the perfect foil for Chloe’s pretty pink looks, her red hair escaping in little tendrils about her face. She was Chloe’s opposite: a wild gypsy, her expression a little mutinous whereas Chloe’s was demure, her eyes clouded with mystery whereas Chloe’s were open and innocent of guile.
‘I am sorry to have missed you this afternoon,’ Jo said. ‘I was not aware that we were to have guests for tea.’
‘Oh, it did not matter,’ Chloe said. ‘I am glad to meet you, Miss Horne, for it is nice to have lots of acquaintances, is it not?’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Jo answered. ‘This is our first visit to the Assembly. I have met only a few friends of Lady Wainwright thus far—and please call me Jo, if you will.’
‘Oh, yes, that is so much better,’ Chloe said. ‘Shall we walk about a little together, Jo? Now that you are here I need not stay with Mama all the time and I want to see what is going on.’
‘Yes, why not?’ Jo said and the two girls walked away from the older ladies, gazing about the room with interest. It was a very large room and had only just begun to fill up. At one end there was another door, which led into what Chloe told her was the refreshment room, and another after that where ladies might go to refresh themselves. A small curving stairway led up to a second floor and there were seats and small tables set out so that chaperons and those who had come merely to greet friends and observe might do so in comfort. ‘Have you been here before?’
‘Oh, no,’ Chloe said. ‘I have been sort of out for a few months, for I attended some private balls at the homes of neighbours and friends, and my own ball will take place when I am eighteen next month. How old are you, Jo?’
‘I was eighteen this spring,’ Jo told her. ‘Do you have any sisters, Chloe?’
‘No, only a brother, who is a year older,’ Chloe replied with a sigh. ‘I have always thought it would be nice to have a sister—do you have one?’
‘I have two,’ Jo said. ‘Marianne is nineteen and was married only a week or so ago, and my sister Lucy is not old enough to come out yet.’
‘Oh, yes, I believe Lady Wainwright told Mama that your elder sister had married the Marquis of Marlbeck.’ Chloe turned her wide eyes on Jo. ‘How fortunate she was to make such a good match. I hope that I shall be as fortunate, though I am not sure…’ She frowned. ‘I have met someone I like, but I am not sure that he likes me. He is four and twenty, and I think he may not wish to be married just yet.’ She sighed and pulled a wry face. ‘Mama says there is plenty of time, for she intends to take me to London next spring for a season, but…’ She shook her head. ‘I should so like to fall in love, should you not, Jo?’
‘I am not sure what being in love is,’ Jo said truthfully. ‘I love my family, of course—but to be in love with a gentleman would be something quite different, I imagine.’
‘I think it is the most wonderful—’ Chloe caught her breath, and suddenly her face lit up with excitement. ‘Oh, he is here.’
Jo’s gaze followed the direction of her new friend’s. She could not see who Chloe was looking at for a moment, and then she saw a gentleman who had apparently just entered the ballroom. He was perhaps a little under six feet in height, of slim build with dark brown hair, and as he turned to look in their direction, Jo realised that she had seen him before. He was the gentleman who had come to her aid in the inn yard and then, only that morning, asked if he might buy the singing bird for Lucy! Mr Hal Beverley!
‘He has seen me,’ Chloe said and smiled. ‘He is coming this way.’
Jo said nothing. She watched the gentleman make his way towards them, and her pulses raced, but at the last moment, her attention was turned to a young man who addressed her from her right.
‘Miss Horne,’ he said as she turned towards him. ‘You may recall that we met at the Pump Room when you accompanied your aunt there two days ago?’
Jo turned her gaze upon him, struggling to recall his name. Her aunt had introduced them, but she had not been paying much attention, which was very rude of her. He was perfectly polite and quite respectable, though his sandy hair and pale eyelashes were not particularly attractive.
‘Good evening, sir,’ she said. ‘How nice to meet you again.’
‘Will you dance, Miss Horne?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Jo said, accepting his hand as she struggled to remember his name. ‘Mr…Tanner.’ She felt relieved as it came back to her. He was the nephew of one of her aunt’s oldest friends, she recalled, and one of the few younger gentlemen of her aunt’s acquaintance. ‘How kind of you…’
Jo saw from the corner of her eye that Chloe was now dancing with Hal Beverley. She was smiling up at him, and he seemed to be responding in an equally pleased manner. Jo did know why that made her feel a little envious, for they made a handsome couple and were clearly good friends.
Jo’s dance with Mr Tanner was enjoyable, for though he was not the best of partners he did not tread on her toes. She thanked him when it was over and rejoined her aunt, who had moved on to another of her acquaintance. Jo was not asked for the next dance and stood with her aunt watching the more fortunate girls who had partners. Her toe tapped in time to the music, but she was content enough for the moment, and did not expect that she would dance every dance. After all, there were so many pretty girls for the gentlemen to choose from. However, just as the third dance was about to begin she heard her name spoken and turned to find herself looking at Chloe and the gentleman she had been dancing with earlier.
‘This is Mr Hal Beverley,’ Chloe said. ‘He says that he does not know anyone else here this evening, and as he cannot dance with me all the time, I suggested that he dance with you, Jo.’
‘Miss Horne,’ Hal said and grinned as she made him a little curtsy, a hint of mischief in her face. ‘Will you take pity on me for this dance? I find myself a stranger here, apart from Chloe and Mrs Marsham.’
‘Oh…’ Unaccountably, Jo’s heart fluttered. ‘Yes, of course. How kind of you, sir.’ She gave him her hand, allowing him to lead her out on to the floor. Chloe was following with another partner—a rather dashing young man in a scarlet uniform.
‘I do not think it particularly kind,’ Hal said, his eyes quizzing her. ‘It is odd that I should know so few of the company here this evening—but I believe that at this time of year mothers bring their youngest daughters for a taste of social life, before they have their first Season in town.’
Looking up at him, Jo surprised laughter in his eyes. ‘You are perhaps used to more sophisticated company in London, sir? I dare say the company in Bath is a little slow for your taste.’
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, but his bold look mocked her. ‘I was fortunate that Chloe had a friend or I should have had to sit this dance out.’
‘Oh, I think you might have found someone willing to introduce you to some of the other young ladies, sir.’
‘Yes, but I am not sure that I wish to dance with any of the other young ladies here, Miss Horne.’ He was giving her one of his wicked smiles again!
Jo hid her amusement and gave him a straight look. ‘I cannot think why, for there are some very pretty girls here tonight.’
‘Indeed, you are right. I would not doubt it for a moment.’
‘Then why—?’ She shook her head, her eyes sparkling. ‘No, do not answer, for I am sure I should not have asked.’
Hal chuckled. ‘I see no reason why not,’ he said. ‘I do not know why it should be, but I find that very young ladies either talk endlessly about nothing of consequence or say nothing at all—and I am not sure which is more tedious.’
‘Pray tell me which category I belong to,’ Jo said, her chin up. ‘Then I may amend my behaviour.’
‘Oh, I do not think that you belong to either,’ Hal told her, a teasing glint in his eye. ‘Indeed, my experience tells me that it cannot be so, for we are already acquainted, are we not?’
‘You mean because I almost trod on your toes earlier today? Or perhaps because you came to my rescue at the inn?’ She was deliberately provoking. ‘And, of course, we met again this afternoon…’
‘Yes, so we did,’ he agreed, matching her for wickedness. ‘Who knows, Miss Horne, we may be destined to meet wherever we go, like ghostly spirits passing in the night. Are you truly Miss Josephine Horne or but an apparition, a sprite sent here to tempt men to destruction? I believe it is the latter, for you have a touch of mystery that intrigues me.’
‘I think you are a terrible flirt, sir, and talk a great deal of nonsense!’ Jo could hardly keep from laughing.
‘Indeed, my father would agree with you,’ Hal replied, mock solemn. ‘But it seems that we are destined to meet for another reason—but not one that we ought to discuss this evening.’
Jo was puzzled. ‘I am afraid that I do not understand you, sir.’
‘Why should you?’ He smiled enigmatically as their dance came to an end. ‘Alas, I cannot say more this evening. I must thank you for the pleasure of your company. I should take you back to your friends, and then I must leave.’
‘Are you leaving so soon?’ She felt a pang of disappointment, for he had brought a touch of magic to the evening that had been lacking before his arrival.
‘I have another appointment,’ Hal said, his mouth quirking irreverently. ‘But I hope that we shall meet again soon, Miss Horne…if you are Miss Horne, and not a siren sent to lure my ship to the rocks.’
Jo inclined her head, but made no comment as he led her back to where her aunt was standing with Mrs Marsham and two other ladies. She thanked him, watching thoughtfully as he walked from the room.
Chloe came back to join them. ‘Has Mr Beverley gone already?’ she said looking disappointed. ‘We danced the first two dances, but I had hoped we might dance again later.’
‘I believe he had another appointment,’ Jo said. ‘But he must have come simply to dance with you, Chloe.’
‘Oh…’ Chloe blushed and looked pleased. ‘Yes, perhaps he did.’
Jo understood that she had hopes of Mr Beverley asking her to marry him. She knew nothing about him other than that he seemed to have an irreverent sense of humour, which she liked, and was extremely attractive. She supposed he must come from a good family, though she did not like to ask.
It had crossed her mind that he might be in some way related to Ellen’s late husband, but naturally she had not asked him. He might consider it impertinent, and, besides, she knew that Ellen did not wish it to be known that she was at present residing in Bath. However, she would ask Ellen when she next saw her if Mr Hal Beverley was in anyway related, for it seemed to her that if it were so he might do something to help her.

Lady Wainwright had decided that bathing had done her a great deal of good and she graciously told Jo that she might leave her after they had reached the Baths and go to the library or visit friends.
‘But on no account are you to be late for tea, Jo. I shall be most displeased if you let me down again. I cannot help you to make friends if you behave in such a shockingly careless manner.’
‘I know that it was very bad of me,’ Jo admitted. ‘I promise I shall not be late again.’
After leaving her aunt, she went first to the little teashop and bought some peppermint creams, which were packed in a pretty little box and tied with ribbon. Jo visited the library next and took out two books, one a novel and one on embroidery that she thought Ellen might like to see. She had also bought a smaller box of violet creams as a little gift for her friend, and was feeling pleased with herself as she made her way to Mrs Beverley’s lodgings.
As she reached the top of the slope leading to the house, a gentleman came out of Ellen’s house and turned away in the opposite direction. Jo stood watching him for a moment. She could not be sure, but thought it might have been Mr Hal Beverley. Perhaps he had discovered that Ellen was in Bath for himself.
Ellen answered the doorbell almost at once. Jo could tell from the look on her face that something momentous had happened, and she was pleased for her friend.
‘Oh, I am so glad you have called,’ Ellen told her. ‘I have some news to tell you.’
‘Exciting news?’
‘Yes, I think so. I have just received a visit from my husband’s brother Hal. He served in Spain at the same time as Matt, at least for a few months, and we knew each other. He says that he has been looking for me and wants to help me.’
‘Oh, Ellen, that is good news,’ Jo said. ‘Did you not think of asking him for help before this?’
‘No, for why should he take on the burden of my expenses?’ Ellen said. ‘I dare say I might have approached Lord Beverley if he had not been so set against the marriage, but Hal has his own expenses. I told him that I should be grateful for his help in practical ways, but for the moment I have sufficient funds to pay my way.’
‘And what did he say to that?’ Jo frowned, for in her opinion Mr Beverley should have ignored Ellen’s scruples and given her a handsome present so that she had no need to work so hard.
‘He said that I was to think of him as a friend and as my husband’s brother. He was angry that his father had done nothing for me, and indeed, he says that he regrets it, but we must keep our meetings a secret for the moment, because Lord Beverley might be angry or upset by them. I believe his father might disown him as he did Matt, and it is very brave of Hal to risk so much for my sake.’
‘Lord Beverley sounds disagreeable,’ Jo said and pulled a face. ‘I think it was very unfair of him to disown his son—and to treat you so harshly.’
‘Hal was angry about it, but says that his father has been unwell for some months and because of that he does not wish to quarrel with him. He has independent means and does not care so much for the estate—but he does care for his father.’
‘Yes, I see,’ Jo said and looked thoughtful. ‘I do not like Aunt Wainwright very much, but I must admit that I should not want to see her ill—and I should be distressed if I were the cause of that illness.’
‘I understand his feelings completely,’ Ellen said. ‘Matt always hoped that he might settle his differences with his father one day. Hal is very good to search for me, and I should turn to him if I needed help, but I prefer not to accept charity unless I need it. I shall continue to use my married name to which I am entitled, but I shall not mention the connection to Lord Beverley—and the name is otherwise common enough.’ She smiled at Jo. ‘Have you come to take your nuncheon with me?’
‘I must not be late for tea this afternoon. My aunt scolded me yesterday. I do not mind that—but she is paying for my visit here and she bought me some very nice clothes, so I must not disoblige her.’
‘Well, we shall eat a light nuncheon and then you may leave,’ Ellen said. ‘I want you to look at some embroidery I am doing for a client. She saw some of my work at a fashionable shop in town and asked for me to work on her ballgown. She will be eighteen next month and is to have a special dance, I am told.’
Jo looked at a panel of exquisite embroidery that Ellen was working on, feeling amazed at both the beauty and intricacy of the design and the skilled workmanship.
‘Oh, this is wonderful,’ she said. ‘You are so clever, Ellen. Who taught you to do something like this?’
‘I am self-taught,’ Ellen said looking pleased. ‘My governess taught me the rudiments of the art, of course, and I begged my father to buy me books about it. He was pleased to do it, for he thought embroidery a ladylike occupation. He would not be so pleased if he knew that I was using my skill to earn my living.’
‘It is such a shame that you are estranged from your family,’ Jo said. ‘Did you make up your mind to write to your mama?’
‘Yes, I have written her a few lines,’ Ellen confirmed. ‘Just to tell her that my husband is dead and that I am with child and quite well. I gave her no forwarding address—and I intend to send my letter today.’
‘I am sure she will be relieved to have it,’ Jo said and smiled at her. ‘I took out a book for you from the library, but I think you are too advanced for it. I shall take it home and study it myself. I am ashamed to say that I could not produce anything even half as fine as this panel.’
Ellen laughed softly. ‘I studied for years, Jo. I was not particularly happy at home, for my father is a cold man, and Mama is afraid to displease him. When Matt came into my life it changed so much…I can never regret what I did, even though I lost him too soon.’
‘I am glad that you were so happy,’ Jo said. ‘I have never been sure that real love existed—not the very romantic kind that you read about in books—but Marianne fell in love with her marquis, and you obviously loved your husband very much.’
‘Yes, I did,’ Ellen said. ‘You may think my story tragic, but I would rather have had a year with Matt than a score of years with a man I did not love.’
Jo nodded and looked thoughtful. She was beginning to think that perhaps true love really did happen to the fortunate few.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ Aunt Wainwright said and gave Jo a nod of approval as she walked into the parlour at half-past two that afternoon. ‘I am glad you are back. You must go up and change, put on one of your prettiest gowns and tidy that hair.’
‘Yes, Aunt,’ Jo said and placed the small box of peppermint creams on the table beside her. ‘I have been assured that they are very fresh.’
‘But to buy them in a box like that,’ her aunt said and frowned. ‘So extravagant! A paper twist would have been adequate.’
‘I bought them as a gift for you, to thank you for your generosity towards me,’ Jo said, giving her a straight look. ‘I shall go up and change now.’
‘Do not be long. We have a visitor I particularly want you to meet, Jo.’
Jo nodded, but made no reply. She noticed her aunt staring rather oddly at the box of sweets as she left the room.
As she changed out of her walking dress into a silk afternoon gown in a pale green colour, the skirt flounced but otherwise quite plain apart from a sash of darker green, Jo was thinking about what Ellen had told her concerning Hal Beverley. It seemed that he was an exceedingly generous man—as indeed she had known before, for she believed that his offer to buy her sister the singing bird had been made genuinely and with no thought of reward.
She thought that of late her wicked earl had stepped out of character, and was becoming a true gentleman, for she could no longer write of him as she had in the past, and must think of a way to redeem him in her novel.
The idea of changing her story so radically entertained her thoughts until she went downstairs. She heard voices coming from her aunt’s drawing room and her heart beat rapidly for a moment, wondering if the caller might be Mr Beverley, but as she entered she discovered that their visitor was unknown to her.
‘Ah, Jo, my dear, how delightful you look,’ Aunt Wainwright said. ‘You must come and meet the Reverend Mr Thomas Browne. Sir, this is my niece, Miss Josephine Horne, of whom I have already told you.’
‘Mr Browne,’ Jo said, coming forward. She held out her hand to him and smiled, for she was prepared to be welcoming to anyone who followed her papa’s calling. ‘I am very pleased to meet you, sir.’
‘And I you, Miss Horne. I am a little acquainted with Lady Wainwright, and when I spoke to her of my difficulty, she was kind enough to say that she thought you might be willing to help.’
‘If it is possible,’ Jo replied. ‘But I am not acquainted with your difficulty, sir—in what way would you like me to help you?’
‘Oh, I thought…but no matter. I am holding various fundraising events this coming week, and I need a helper. The lady who was to have performed certain little tasks—helping to make banners, write notices, and assisting with a bring-and-buy stall at the church hall—is unwell and finds herself unable to help as she usually does.’
‘Oh, yes, of course I shall be pleased to help you, Mr Browne—if my aunt permits. I must not neglect her, but otherwise I should enjoy being of assistance to you.’
‘I have said that you may go in the mornings,’ Lady Wainwright told her. ‘You know that I have taken up bathing for the sake of my health. I shall not need you until teatime, Jo. You may wish to visit other friends, of course, but I am sure you can spare two or three mornings this coming week.’
‘Yes, certainly,’ Jo said. She was very accustomed to such tasks and willing to be of service. ‘I shall enjoy it, though on Tuesday mornings I have the debating society, and on Thursdays I visit a friend, as I have today.’
‘What friend is that?’ Lady Wainwright asked. ‘I know it was not Chloe—she was at the Pump Room with her mama and inquired after you.’
‘Mrs Ellen Beverley, Aunt. I told you. She is a widow and I went to her aid her when she was unwell. We have become friends.’ Jo knew that if she told her aunt that Ellen was related by marriage to Lord Beverley her attitude would change completely, but her friend was determined not to trade on her husband’s family and Jo must keep that part of her identity a secret until she was given permission to reveal it.
‘Well, as long as you do not spend all your time with her. We are promised to Mrs Marsham and Chloe this evening. You have not forgotten?’
‘They are holding a card party,’ Jo said. ‘I had not forgotten, Aunt.’
‘Tomorrow is Friday,’ the Reverend Browne said. ‘Perhaps you would come to the church hall at ten—if that is not too early for you?’
‘No, that will do very well,’ Jo said and smiled. She could leave after two or three hours and perhaps call to see Ellen on her way home. ‘I shall enjoy helping you, sir. Please tell me something of your good causes—are they here in Bath or elsewhere?’
‘I have several causes I feel worthy of my attention,’ he replied, giving her a look of approval, for not all young ladies would wish to spend their time helping the poor when they might be enjoying the delights of Bath. ‘I support a home for orphaned children in Bath itself, and similar ones in London—but I also send money to overseas missions, Miss Horne. We must do what we can to educate the heathen and alleviate their ignorance.’
‘And their poverty, I hope, sir? Papa told me that the people live in terrible circumstances in some countries, perhaps even worse than in the slums here.’
‘Ah, yes, I believe your father was also a man of the church, Miss Horne?’
‘Papa was a wonderful man,’ Jo said, her eyes lighting up. ‘He taught all of us that it is our duty to be charitable and caring towards others—and he said that we must see it as a privilege to help them. I am proud to be his daughter.’
‘Ah, yes, a worthy sentiment,’ the Reverend Browne said and beamed with pleasure. ‘I have seldom met a young woman who thinks as deeply as you have on these matters, Miss Horne. It is a delight to have made your acquaintance.’
‘Oh, do not praise me too highly, sir,’ Jo said. ‘I enjoy helping with these things, and therefore it cannot be held a duty.’
If anything, the Reverend looked more approving. However, he abandoned the subject in favour of others, speaking with some intelligence about the political situation, which was quite troublesome for it seemed certain that there must be yet another war with the French. After thirty minutes he took his leave, touching Jo’s hand for a moment as she escorted him to the door and thanking her once again for her promise of help.
‘I am only too glad to be of help,’ Jo said and meant it sincerely, for she liked doing the kind of task that he had asked of her and had often assisted her papa in much the same way. ‘Thank you for calling, sir.’
Jo returned to the drawing room, where her aunt gave her what could only be a look of respect.
‘That was very well done,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘You showed yourself to be just the sort of gel that a man in his position would wish to know. I am sure that he liked you. If you continue in this way I believe he may make you an offer, for I have it on good authority that he is looking for a wife. It would be just the thing for you, Josephine—and you could hardly expect to look higher. I believe he has a small allowance from his family as well as his stipend, which means he can afford to marry.’
Jo stared at her in disbelief, for her aunt seemed to think that it was a perfect match. ‘I hardly know Mr Browne, Aunt. He seems pleasant enough and speaks well of many things, but I am not certain we should suit one another. Indeed, I do not yet know if I wish to marry anyone.’
‘That is ridiculous! Every gel must marry. It is expected and the only possible future—unless you wish to remain at home for ever?’
‘I should like to be sure that I could be happy in my life, and I do not think that the kind of marriage you envisage would bring me happiness, Aunt. I think that I might find his company tedious if I were obliged to live with him.’
‘How can you possibly know that?’ her aunt demanded, the familiar look of annoyance returning to her face. ‘You said yourself that you do not know him.’
Jo realised her mistake. She could not possibly tell her aunt that she would never marry the Reverend Browne, even if it meant that she remained single all her life. Lady Wainwright would simply become angry, and it made life so uncomfortable. For once it might be better to brush over it as easily as she could. After all, she did not dislike Mr Browne, and he was just the kind of man she had once thought her sister Marianne might have married.
‘Yes, as you say, Aunt. I cannot know. We have hardly met and one should be certain about these things, for to marry in a rush would be both unseemly and perhaps foolish—do you not think so?’
Her aunt looked at her suspiciously, for the answer was too measured to be Jo’s true sentiments, unless she had changed her ways overnight.
‘Do not imagine you can fool me, Josephine. I am merely pointing out a possible chance to you, and one that you would be well advised to consider. You will not get a second chance for a visit like this, and you may grow bored with being at home. Most women prefer their own home—and children. I know that you like children, Jo. How can you content yourself to think that you might never hold your own child in your arms?’
‘But what of liking and respect, Aunt? You notice that I do not speak of love, for I am not sure it exists, though Marianne was certainly in love. But one should at least like the man one marries—do you not agree?’
‘Yes, of course, and I should never dream of suggesting that you marry a man who was not worthy of your consideration—but I believe Mr Browne is a man that many girls would be glad to marry. Especially those who have no fortune.’
‘I expect you are right, Aunt. Would you excuse me now, please? I think that perhaps I should change for the evening.’
Jo went upstairs to her own room. After she had finished dressing, she sat down at her dressing table and looked at her hair. If only it was a pretty honey blonde like Marianne’s and straighter!
Picking up her brush, she tugged at the tangled curls, pulling them back and securing the knot at the back of her head with pins, into which she pinned a spray of silk flowers. Tendrils of flame-coloured hair had escaped to curl attractively about her face. She sighed, because she knew that nothing she could do would tame it completely.
What did it matter? Jo fastened her mother’s pearls about her throat and applied a dab of cologne to her wrists and behind her ears; the perfume smelled faintly of violets, a very soft delicate scent. Satisfied that she could do no better with her appearance, she went downstairs to wait for her aunt in the parlour. It was a chance to read for a few minutes, which was a treat, because Lady Wainwright did not like to see her with her nose in a book too often. She was just becoming engrossed in the story when she heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see that her aunt had arrived.
‘Reading again?’ Lady Wainwright looked annoyed. ‘I hope you haven’t spoiled your gown sitting there. I do hate to see girls in creased gowns when they arrive for the evening. You should have walked about the room until I came down.’
‘I do not think that sitting here has harmed my dress, Aunt.’
‘Well, you are fortunate if it has not. Are you ready? It is already past six and we are engaged for half-past.’ She looked about her and made a sound of annoyance. ‘I have left my fan. Please go upstairs and fetch it for me. It lies on my bed.’
‘Yes, Aunt.’ She ran upstairs, and found the fan on the dressing chest after some few seconds of searching. Her aunt gave her a hard look when she came back down, but said nothing, taking the fan without a word of thanks.
They went out to the carriage, neither of them speaking to the other during the short ride, Jo because she did not have anything in particular to say, and Lady Wainwright because she was annoyed about something. Jo wasn’t sure whether she had caused her aunt’s mood or whether it was to do with something quite different, but it was clear to her that the best course of action was to remain silent.

Mrs Marsham had taken one of the larger houses in Bath, but her rooms were already overflowing with guests when they arrived. Jo was surprised for she had expected a small card party, but she soon discovered that cards were to be only a part of the evening’s entertainment. A quartet was playing music as they entered, and Chloe told her that one of the drawing rooms had been cleared so that the younger people could dance.
‘There is room for no more than ten couples,’ Chloe said, her eyes glowing. ‘But the older ladies do not dance and will content themselves playing cards or simply listening to the music.’
‘I am not sure that I am dressed for dancing,’ Jo said, because she was wearing a very simple evening gown. ‘I did not expect it.’
‘Oh, but you look very nice,’ Chloe said. ‘You always do—though I think it is a shame that you scrape your hair back so tightly. Do you never think of wearing it in a softer style?’
‘Never! I should look like a gypsy,’ Jo said and Chloe went into a fit of the giggles.
‘Oh, you do say such droll things, Jo!’ she cried. ‘A gypsy, indeed. Mama would have a fit if I were to say such a thing.’
‘But you always look so elegant,’ Jo said and Chloe gave a pleased nod of her head.
Chloe had only waited for Jo to arrive. Her mother had released her almost at once, and the two girls went into the long room together. Jo saw that several young men she had met at the Assembly rooms were present, including Mr Tanner, and it was not long before both girls were dancing. Surprisingly, Jo found that she was sought after almost as eagerly as Chloe, and she did not sit out one dance, which might have been because Mrs Marsham had cleverly invited more gentlemen than young ladies.

It was not until an hour later that Jo felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find herself looking at Mr Hal Beverley. She had not noticed him come in, because she had been enjoying herself, and her eyes were bright with laughter.
‘Good evening, Mr Beverley,’ she said. ‘Chloe did not tell me that she expected you this evening.’
‘Did she not, Miss Horne?’ Hal’s brows rose. ‘Now why should that be, I wonder? For it must be an object of great public interest if I am to attend a card party, must it not? Indeed, had I thought, I should have had a blast of horns announce me.’
‘You are a wicked tease, sir,’ Jo said. ‘You knew very well what I meant.’
‘Did I?’ His eyes gleamed with unholy amusement. ‘Pray give me the pleasure of this next dance, Miss Horne—unless it is promised to another?’
‘No, it is not,’ Jo replied. She had planned to slip away to find herself a cooling drink, but could not give up the opportunity to dance with him. ‘Oh, listen, I believe this is a waltz.’
‘Yes, so I believe,’ Harry said and gave her his hand. ‘I trust you are a lady of your word, Miss Horne? You will not refuse?’ His eyes quizzed her. ‘Perhaps you are but an illusion and will disappear in a puff of smoke rather than waltz with me.’
‘I…No, of course not,’ Jo said. She was a little unsure, because the waltz was not yet thoroughly approved of everywhere, though she had heard that it was no longer frowned on at most venues and was certainly allowed at private parties. ‘Yes, Mr Beverley, I should love to dance the waltz with you.’
Her heart fluttered as he placed his hand at the small of her waist, and she looked up at him, her eyes widening as she saw the challenge in his eyes.
‘Why do you look at me that way, sir?’
‘Because I am waiting,’ Hal said. ‘Most young ladies would have come out with it at once, but then, as I have observed before, you are different from most young ladies of my acquaintance.’
‘Are you speaking of Ellen?’ Jo asked.
Oh, he danced divinely! She had not realised that a waltz could be this much pleasure. She felt as if she were floating on air, the music filling her soul as she followed his lead effortlessly, their steps perfectly in tune.
‘Ellen informs me that you have become her friend.’
‘I believe we are friends,’ Jo replied. ‘She tells me that you have been kind enough to offer her help should she need it.’
‘I would do more if she would permit it.’
‘Yes, I know…’ Jo smiled. At this moment she felt as if she were filled to the brim with content and happiness. ‘Ellen is proud and does not wish for assistance. But she works very hard, and I am not sure it is good for her in her condition.’
‘No, I am very sure you are right. I shall do what I can for her.’
‘She would not accept anything she saw as charity.’
‘It would not be charity. She and my brother’s child are entitled to a decent life, and I wish that she would allow me to help her with her expenses.’
‘I think you must be clever in how you offer help.’
‘Yes, I am sure you are right. I must think of something, for at the moment she will not let me help her.’
The music was coming to an end. Jo found herself wishing that it might go on for much longer, but she knew that she must be satisfied with the one dance, for it was unlikely that he would ask her again.
‘Perhaps she will when she needs you,’ Jo said, as the other dancers began to leave the floor. ‘I believe it may be time for supper, sir. Yes, I see that everyone is making a move in that direction.’
‘Are you hungry?’ Hal asked, and Jo shook her head. ‘Come out into the conservatory for a moment or two. I should like to speak to you further on this matter.’
‘I…’ Jo was about to say that she was not sure if she ought to do that when she saw Chloe coming towards them. ‘Perhaps another time. I may call on Ellen at something after noon tomorrow.’
‘Oh, there you are, Jo,’ Chloe said, but her eyes were on Hal. ‘Are you coming into supper with me?’
‘Yes, I was just about to,’ Jo said, and looked at Hal. ‘Shall you join us, sir?’
‘Yes, of course, why not?’ he replied. ‘It shall be my pleasure to look after both of you. The two prettiest girls here this evening—what a damned lucky fellow I am!’
Jo smiled and shook her head, but Chloe had slipped her arm through his. She knew that his compliment was for Chloe, but he was being gallant, of which she approved. It was due to Chloe’s efforts on Jo’s behalf that she had not sat out one dance that evening. All the young gentlemen were happy to oblige Chloe. If a small voice told her that she had only chosen Jo as her special friend because she did not wish for competition, she ignored it.
‘You are a determined flirt, Mr Beverley,’ Chloe told him, eyes sparkling. ‘I do not think you deserve us, but you may fetch our supper to prove that you were not merely mocking us.’
‘How could you think such a thing of me?’ Hal replied and turned to look at Jo with an expression of innocent appeal. ‘Miss Horne knows that I mean everything I say—do you not? Please support me against this tyrant, Miss Horne.’
Jo merely smiled and shook her head, for it was obvious that they were comfortable together, and she would not be surprised if they were to make a match of it. She was almost certain it was in Chloe’s mind to accept him if he made an offer—but would he? Jo had no way of guessing what was in his mind. He was a charming companion, and she liked him, but she did not know him well enough to have formed an opinion of his character.
If Jo’s thoughts were in some confusion, it was as well that she could not know or even guess at what Hal was thinking. She would doubtless have been shocked to know that his thoughts were in turmoil, and his plans for the future had been turned upside down.

Hal’s mind had been more or less made up before he came down to Bath. He would find Ellen, set her up in a decent house with enough money to allow her to live in comfort, if not luxury, and then ask Chloe Marsham to marry him. He had hoped that when his brother’s child was born, Lord Beverley would accept his grandchild and then perhaps Ellen would be given the attention and consequence she deserved. His plan had gone sadly wrong, for Ellen had stubbornly refused his help with her finances, and he was no longer sure that he wished to marry Chloe.
He was not precisely sure why he had changed his mind—or, indeed, if he had changed his mind. Chloe was very lovely and she was a nice girl, just the sort of wife his father would approve. Harry had previously decided that she was the one he would feel most comfortable with of all the suitable young ladies he had met since his return from the army, but now he was wavering, and he was not certain why.
It could not possibly be anything to do with Chloe’s friend…could it? Hal wrinkled his brow as he discarded his cravat. The hour was late, but he was not in the least tired. In London he would probably have gone on to his club from the Marshams’ card party, but although he was acquainted with most of the gentlemen staying in Bath at present, none of them was his particular friend.
He thought about his old friend, Drew Marlbeck, feeling regretful that he had not answered his recent call to help capture the traitor who had betrayed so many of their friends in Spain. At that time he had been following a lead that had taken him to Amsterdam and which had turned out to be completely wrong. He had visited Drew in Truro before leaving, and on his return from abroad sent him and his new wife a wedding gift, though he had not gone down to the wedding, because his father had had one of his turns just as he was about to leave. By the time he had recovered, the Marquis and Marchioness had departed on their honeymoon.
He wondered if Drew ever thought about the old times. There had been a special companionship between the men out there…a bond that only shared grief and the knowledge that death hovered at one’s shoulder could forge. Hal sighed. There was little point in repining, for he had made his decision when he sold out. Lord Beverley’s health was uncertain, which was why Hal was doing his best to keep his quest for Ellen a secret. He knew that his father felt that Matt had let him down, and he had wanted to make things right by marrying well and giving his father an heir. It was his duty to do just that, but somehow it wasn’t proving as easy as he had imagined.
Why? Hal was damned if he knew. It could not be because of Miss Horne, could it? She had remarkable eyes and he liked her straight way of talking, but she wasn’t beautiful…at least in the conventional sense, though there was something about her. Hal sat in a high-backed chair by the window and looked out at the night sky, which was sprinkled with stars. Josephine Horne was a respectable girl with good connections, but he sensed instinctively that she would not be his father’s choice of a bride. Lord Beverley expected him to marry an heiress of good family and would take some persuading if he were to suggest a match with the daughter of a parson.
Did he wish it himself? Damn it, what on earth was he thinking? Hal smiled ruefully. He hardly knew the girl whereas he had known Chloe slightly for some years, because her parents were cousins to their nearest neighbours at Beverley, and, although not close friends, at least on nodding terms with his father. He had not taken much notice of her as a child, but they had met a few times at small gatherings since his return from the army, and he did like her. He believed Chloe would be a comfortable wife, and she was certainly beautiful—so why had he dragged his feet? He believed that she would accept an offer from him, and if he were able to tell his father the good news, he might also be able to break it to him that Ellen was having Matt’s child.
It was the sensible thing to do. He knew that he owed his father the surety of a grandchild, and he must not delay his decision for too long, because Chloe was an heiress and would probably receive an offer very soon. She might decide to wait until after her Season next spring, of course—but her mother would possibly agree to an engagement and a wedding next summer.
‘Damnation!’ Hal knew that he would never sleep a wink with this on his mind. He needed a drink…

Jo spent a very happy morning helping out at the church hall the next day. She had found several companions of like minds, young women who found pleasure in helping others, and in the friendship that could be found at such affairs. They painted banners to hang at the sale and wrote out neat price tickets, sorted through piles of unwanted items that people had given and helped to set up stalls ready for the bazaar the following weekend.
‘Would you be kind enough to help at the sale itself, Miss Horne?’ Mrs Henderson asked. She was a young matron of perhaps five and twenty, with two small children, who were at home with their nursemaid. ‘We need someone to serve at the stall selling cakes and homemade sweetmeats.’
‘Yes, of course, providing my aunt can spare me that day,’ Jo said. ‘What hours would you need me?’
‘Oh, from just before noon until perhaps five,’ the woman said. ‘I shall be working on it myself, but we are usually very busy.’
‘Then I shall ask my aunt and let you know next time I come—which will be on Monday, I think?’
‘Yes, we are to meet here again on Monday,’ Mrs Henderson replied with a smile. ‘I dare say your aunt may spare you for once, my dear.’
Jo said that she hoped so and took her leave. She walked swiftly in the direction of Ellen’s lodgings, not bothering to linger over shop windows. However, as she neared the end of the street, she saw Hal Beverley coming towards her. He smiled as he saw her, lifting his smart beaver hat and smiling as they met.
‘Good morning, Miss Horne. I trust you are well?’
‘Yes, sir, thank you.’ Jo’s heartbeat quickened, because his quizzing smile was so appealing. She thought that, of all the gentlemen she had met in Bath, he was the one she liked best. He was undoubtedly a tease and a flirt, and it would be foolish to take him seriously, but she liked him very well.
‘It is a beautiful day, is it not, Miss Horne?’
‘Yes, though the wind may be a little chilly.’
‘What does a chill wind matter in the company of an enchanting young lady?’
‘Sir, I think you like to tease for devilment.’
‘Indeed, I do, Miss Horne—but only when the company is this charming.’
‘You are wicked, sir!’
‘You are right to chastise me. It is a fault.’ His eyes were warm with amusement. ‘Are you not shopping today?’
‘I am on my way to visit a friend. Perhaps the same one as you have been visiting?’
‘Indeed? Yes, it may be if you speak of Ellen. I called to see her for a few minutes and she said she hoped to see you later. I must not delay you, for I know she looks forward to your visit. Perhaps we shall meet again this evening?’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Jo smiled, her heart beating rapidly as she walked on. She hoped that she would see him again soon, for he was a very pleasant young man. Arriving at Ellen’s lodgings, she rang the bell firmly, waiting until her friend answered the door and invited her in.
‘I was wondering whether you might come,’ Ellen said, looking pleased. ‘I hoped you might, because I wanted to tell you that I have sent the letter to my mother. Just to let her know that I am well.’
‘I am sure that is all she needs to know,’ Jo said. She considered Ellen, who was not as pale as she had been the first time they met. ‘Are you feeling better now?’
‘Oh, yes, I keep quite well most of the time,’ Ellen said and placed a hand on her bump, smiling contentedly. ‘It is a comfort to know that I have at least two friends now. Hal was here a few minutes ago.’
‘Yes, I met him on my way here. It must be better, knowing that your husband’s brother is there if you need him.’ Jo followed her into the small but comfortable parlour. Ellen had been working at her embroidery and a panel of blue silk lay on the sofa. She moved it to one side and sat down.
‘Hal was always a little wild when we were in Spain,’ Ellen said and laughed softly. ‘Matt used to say he was the maddest prankster of them all—but they were good friends, and I am grateful that he took the trouble to look for me. He has even been as far as Amsterdam in his search, though I was never there, of course. It is odd how these tales get about, is it not?’
‘Mr Beverley seems very pleasant,’ Jo said thoughtfully. ‘We met last evening at a friend’s house, and he asked me to dance a waltz with him. He dances very well.’
‘Oh, yes, all Old Hooky’s favourite officers did,’ Ellen said with a wistful expression in her eyes. ‘They were an elite corps, Jo—young and dashing, brave and clever. The very best of the English aristocrats, a breed apart, I think. We had some good times as well as the bad ones.’
‘You must miss all your friends?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Ellen agreed. ‘I was lonely until I met you—and then, on the same day, Hal came, and I am not lonely any more.’
‘But it is so unfair that you have had to fend for yourself,’ Jo said, a flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Lord Beverley should be ashamed of himself. If your child is a boy, he will be the heir to the estate.’
‘Yes, in law, perhaps,’ Ellen said, ‘for I believe the estate was entailed—but I should never demand my rights. Besides, Hal told me that his father’s health is uncertain. He has not told him that he was looking for me, nor will he tell him that he has found me—at least until the baby is born. He thinks that a grandchild may mellow Lord Beverley, and if Hal makes the kind of marriage his father asks of him…’
‘Yes, I see,’ Jo said. ‘I suppose Lord Beverly will expect him to marry an heiress or the daughter of landed gentry?’
‘Oh, yes, I imagine so. My grandfather was in trade, though Father had bought land and was what they call a warm man—but that was not enough for him.’ Ellen looked sad. ‘I know it hurt Matt to be estranged from his father, but it was Lord Beverley’s own fault.’
‘Yes, indeed it was,’ Jo agreed. ‘Well, we must hope that he will relent in time, because it would be so much nicer for you to have your own home and enough money to live on.’
‘Hal has offered that,’ Ellen told her. ‘But I have refused him, at least for the moment. If I cannot manage, I shall ask for help. It may be more difficult to work when I have a child.’
‘Yes, I expect so,’ Jo said. She sipped her tea. ‘I have been working with the ladies of the church community. There is to be a bazaar next weekend and I have been asked to help with the preparations, and on the cake stall…though I must ask Aunt Wainwright about that, for she may not allow it.’
Ellen nodded her understanding. ‘She may not think it quite proper for her niece, because of course there will be persons of all sorts there on that day, I imagine.’
‘If you mean there will be poor folk, ordinary women, working men and their children, I am sure you are right. I always used to help Papa at home—he considered it was good for his daughters to see how other people lived. We were fortunate, because we always had food on the table, and we often gave some of it to beggars who came to our door. He would say that it was my duty to help, but Aunt Wainwright may wish me to accompany her somewhere.’
‘Well, you must ask her,’ Ellen said and frowned. ‘Does she know you visit me here?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Jo said airily, because she would not offend her friend by telling her she was keeping her visits a secret for the most part. ‘I think I should be going now. I shall come again as soon as I—’ They heard the doorknocker at that moment and Ellen went to answer it. Jo pulled on her York tan gloves and picked up her reticule. Hearing the voice in the hall, she hesitated, her heart thumping madly of a sudden.
She stood waiting as the door from the hall opened and a gentleman followed Ellen into the small parlour. He looked at her, his eyes quizzing her in that bold way of his and she smiled.
‘I was just about to leave, sir,’ she said. ‘I must not be late back or my aunt will worry.’
‘Oh, must you go so soon?’ Hal asked and frowned. ‘I hope it is not on my account. I had thought of something I wanted to tell Ellen, but I can leave and return later if you have not finished your gossiping.’
‘We were not gossiping,’ Jo said. She had a feeling that his return was an excuse to see her again, but she told herself she was being foolish. He was almost engaged to Chloe! Besides, he would never think of her in that way. ‘It was merely a discussion of the activities concerning the church bazaar next weekend. I have been helping with the preparations.’
‘Have you, indeed? How industrious of you,’ Hal said, a glimmer of laughter in his eyes. ‘Most young ladies would find something more pleasurable to employ their time while in Bath, I imagine.’
‘Oh, I have time enough for all I want to do,’ Jo told him, a spark of defiance in her eyes. ‘I assure you, I prefer to be busy rather than to sit idle—and one meets friends.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Hal said a hint of devilment about him. ‘Tell me, Miss Horne—are you given to good works?’
‘Papa taught us to consider others,’ Jo said. ‘Marianne and I used to make lots of clothes for the poor children in our village. There were always offcuts that could be used for something, and she was a marvel at cutting a pattern from the odd bits of cloth. We wasted nothing at the Vicarage.’
‘The Vicarage…yes, your father was a parson, I believe.’ Hal frowned, looking at her thoughtfully. Her name had seemed oddly familiar from the first. Something had been hovering at the back of his mind, but he had not put two and two together until this moment. ‘Drew married a girl called Marianne Horne and her father was a parson…’ He stared at her incredulously. ‘Can it be? I recall that you told me your elder sister had been recently married…did she by chance marry Drew Marlbeck?’
‘Yes? Why do you ask?’ Jo stared at him in bewilderment.
‘Drew is a friend,’ Hal said. ‘He sent me an invitation and I should have been at the wedding had my father not been taken ill at that time.’
‘Oh…’ Jo nodded ‘…how odd that we should meet in Bath—but there, it is a small world, they say. I am sorry your father was ill. Is he recovered now?’
‘He is very much better than he was, of course, but his health is not good. I believe it may be his heart, though he speaks of his illness as a slight turn and dislikes a fuss.’
‘That is a worry for you,’ Jo said. She wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘Do you not think it might be a comfort to him to know that Ellen is to have your brother’s child, sir?’
‘It might,’ Hal agreed. ‘If broken to him gently, it might well give him something to live for…but I think it best to keep it a secret until the child is born.’
‘I do not see why,’ Jo said, anxious to defend what she saw as Ellen’s rights. ‘Surely any right-thinking man would want to help his son’s widow at such a time? Indeed, it must be his duty to his son’s wife and unborn child—do you not agree?’
‘Please do not,’ Ellen said and threw her a look of appeal. ‘I have no intention of approaching Lord Beverley for anything. I shall manage very well as I am—but if he wishes to see his grandchild when he or she is born, he will always be welcome in my home.’
‘I believe he may relent when he sees the babe,’ Hal said, but looked thoughtful. ‘It is not right that Ellen should still be working in her condition, but I am here if she needs me.’
‘Well, I must leave,’ Jo said, reluctantly tearing herself away. ‘I dare say you have things to discuss. No, do not come to the door with me, Ellen. I can see myself out.’
‘Then I shall accompany you, Miss Horne. For I may return later to speak to Ellen.’
Jo looked at him uncertainly, but he seemed determined to accompany her. They walked in silence for a moment.
‘I mean to call at the library, sir. I do not think that you can wish to visit it yourself.’
‘Do you not think me bookish?’ His eyes quizzed her. ‘You wrong me, Miss Horne. I can sometimes sit for an hour or so at a time with a good book.’
‘Indeed? As long as that? You surprise me, sir.’
‘Now you are teasing me, Miss Horne.’
‘Yes, I am—do you mind?’
‘Mind?’ Hal smiled oddly. If he were to tell her what was in his mind at that moment, she might be shocked. ‘It delights me, Miss Horne. It seems that you are full of surprises. But we are at the library and I shall leave you here for the moment.’
Jo gave him her hand. He raised it to his lips to kiss it. Her heart raced, and she turned away, her cheeks flushing to go into the library.
Jo walked home swiftly afterwards. The day had fled again, and she would be back only just in time to change for tea.

Chapter Three
The next few days were busy ones for Jo, because she suddenly found that she was in demand; taken up by Chloe, she had been noticed by several indulgent mamas who thought that she was a pleasant girl and no threat to their prettier daughters. It meant that she was invited to go walking and shopping, and to take tea, sometimes with Lady Wainwright and sometimes without her. She particularly enjoyed her debating society and being able to visit the library whenever she wished, but Ellen was still the friend she liked the best.
However, Jo found that every part of her day was spoken for and it was not until the following Thursday when she received a note from Ellen that she managed to slip away to visit her.
‘Oh, Jo,’ Ellen said as soon as she had admitted her to the house, ‘I am so glad that you came today. I have had a letter from my mama. She says that my father has had agents searching for me since my letter reached her. Apparently, he was able to discover that it had been sent from Bath and then it was an easy matter to trace where I was living. She says that he has asked her to write and tell me to return. He is prepared to give me a home, providing I behave properly in future.’
Jo was stunned for she had never expected this. ‘How could he have discovered where the letter was sent from?’ she asked. ‘You did not give her your address?’
‘No, of course not,’ Ellen said. ‘The letter was franked when I took it to the receiving office. I suppose it must have carried the word Bath or some such thing in the official stamp…and my father sent his agents to look for me here.’ She gave a little sob of despair. ‘What shall I do? If I write and refuse, he may come here himself and force me to return home.’
‘Would that be such a terrible thing?’ Jo wrinkled her brow.
‘Yes, it would, because my father is so very strict, Jo. You have no idea how unkind he can be when he wishes.’ Ellen’s face was pale, her eyes anxious. ‘Mama would not be unkind, but she dare not stand up to him, and he says that I am not married in the eyes of God. He believes that I lived in sin with Matt, and that my child is a bastard. I know that he would not let me keep it and shame him. He would hide me somehow until the baby was born, and then give my child away to some worthy person to care for. I should never be allowed to see my baby. It would be like living in prison after the life I have led here and with Matt. I was so happy then. I cannot bear to return to my old life.’
‘Oh, that is too cruel!’ Jo said and looked at her in horror. ‘Is he really so very unfeeling, Ellen?’
‘Yes. It is the reason I did not go home after Matt died. I would rather scrub floors than live in his house again!’
‘Then you must not,’ Jo said. ‘You must go away somewhere that he cannot find you. I am sorry, Ellen. I should never have persuaded you to write to your mama. I did not think that he could trace it back to you so easily.’
‘Nor did I—but I suppose I should have known that it might be possible.’ Ellen looked anxious. ‘I think I must go away, but I am not sure where—and it is so difficult. I have a piece of work that will not be finished until Monday, and I must finish it, for I shall need whatever money I have to support myself. I have done well here and it may not be as easy to find work elsewhere. If I spoke to Hal, he might have some idea of where I could best find a refuge, and if he took me in his curricle it would be much better, because I cannot afford to spend money on travelling.’

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