Chapter Four

      Whilst Ben was occupying himself at Lavendon by covering up his blunder, Susanna, at the urgings of Mr Jess Fitzroy, allowed the housekeeper, Mrs Ashton, and the little maid to accompany her upstairs, bathe her, and dress her in the modish clothing which lay on the bed in her suite of rooms.

      It was many years since she had worn anything so fine, so expensive and yet so ladylike. Looking in the long mirror, she saw herself transformed. Mrs Ashton who had been a lady’s maid herself long ago, not only dressed her hair for her, but also applied a soupçon of rouge with a fine hare’s-foot brush, despite Susanna exclaiming that she never used it.

      ‘You are a little wan, my dear. The tiniest application of colour to your cheeks will soon remedy that. There—’ and she swung Susanna towards the mirror again so that she could see for herself that the ravages of the afternoon had been repaired.

      ‘Now, you must go downstairs,’ said her new guardian. ‘I understand that it will not be long before the Master returns and, shortly after that, dinner will be served. It will be at an odd hour, to be sure, but then, Mr Wolfe has his own ways of going on—as you have doubtless discovered.’

      Oh, yes, Miss Susanna Beverly had already discovered that! She arrived in the drawing room to find Mr Jess Fitzroy there, dressed in a superfine blue jacket, cream pantaloons and the most elegant evening slippers—to say nothing of an artistically tied cravat and suitably dishevelled hair in the latest fashion.

      He bowed to her gracefully. ‘Allow me to congratulate you on your appearance, Miss Beverly. Most fitting.’

      ‘Fitting for what, Mr Fitzroy—to be kidnapped again? And maltreated into the bargain?’

      He bowed again. ‘I pray you, forgive me for that—but do admit…my unfortunate behaviour to you was based on a complete misunderstanding.’

      ‘And am I to infer from that, that all would have been well if you had carried off Miss Western and not myself? If so, I wonder at your morality, sir, as well as your common sense.’

      By Jove, Ben had been right. The woman had a tongue like a viper and did not hesitate to use it!

      Nevertheless, Jess Fitzroy had the grace to look a trifle ashamed of himself before he muttered, ‘Why, as to that, Miss Beverly, there are reasons—’

      He got no further before Susanna exclaimed, ‘Pray do not enlarge on them, sir, for I am sure that I should neither approve of them nor like them!’

      Jess was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Ben Wolfe, with Celeste, Comtesse de Saulx, on his arm. Both of them were dressed in the latest stare of fashion appropriate to their sex and to their different ages.

      Ben, indeed, had for once allowed his valet to do his best for him—why, he did not know. It was not that he wished to attract Miss Susanna Beverly in any way, far from it, simply that he wished to reassure both the Comtesse and her as to his claims to respectability.

      The Comtesse had not only acceded to his demand that she return to The Den with him immediately, but she had also had herself dressed for dinner with exemplary speed after her arrival there. Ben’s valet had passed on to him the welcome news that Miss Beverly had joined Mr Fitzroy in the Turkish drawing room where they were awaiting his arrival.

      At least the argumentative virago had had the grace to give way over something. Ben had not relished the thought of another slanging match occasioned by his unwanted guest refusing to oblige him by dining with him. Not only that, when he walked in, he saw immediately that she had also obliged him by assuming the clothes which she had earlier refused.

      But that was not all that he saw—or experienced—either when she rose to greet him, or when he took her hand to kiss its back after the continental fashion of which he knew Madame la Comtesse would approve. For, seeing Susanna for the first time as a woman, and neither as an object destined to bring about his long-awaited revenge on the Wychwoods, nor as the wretched nuisance who had been carried off as the result of his own folly, had the oddest effect on him.

      That indomitable spirit, which had allowed Susanna to overcome the series of disasters which had afflicted her since her father’s death, shone through the envelope of flesh which clothed it, and, in doing so, touched Ben Wolfe’s own proud and unyielding soul.

      There was nothing of the flesh about this experience for either of them. It affected Ben the more strongly and immediately precisely because it was so different from anything he had ever known before. It was not Susanna’s fine eyes, or her tender mouth, nor her carefully arranged and lustrous hair, or even the delicate figure revealed by the arts of a Parisian dressmaker, attractive though these were, which were having such a strong effect on him.

      No, it was something more, something which passed his understanding and which made him see Susanna in a totally new light. And when he took her small hand in his to kiss the back of it, a shudder passed through both of them.

      Susanna’s eyes widened and she withdrew her hand as though it had been stung. Nevertheless, so instantaneous was their reaction that even the keen-eyed Comtesse did not notice that Ben Wolfe and the pretty young woman whom he was now presenting to her were sharing something which neither of them could explain.

      Why meeting Ben