Chapter Two

      ‘I really wouldn’t read that, my dear,’ Mr Tenby, Anna’s kindly uncle, said, a look of concern in his eyes.

      Anna’s hand stilled on top of the folded gossip sheets. She’d hoped the news from the Prendersons’ ball would not be reported for another couple of days. It was a miracle how quickly they seemed to be able to publish the latest intrigue and style faux pas.

      ‘Words cannot hurt me,’ Anna said brightly, picking up the paper and scanning the text, trying to ignore the concerned looks coming across the breakfast table from her uncle and her cousin Beatrice.

       ‘“Congratulations are due to Lady Fortescue on her engagement to Lord Edgerton at Lord and Lady Prenderson’s ball two days ago. Recently out of mourning for her third husband, Lady Fortescue will no doubt be keen to legalise her tie to one of London’s most eligible bachelors.”’

      Anna read the offending paragraph out loud, wondering how many other people were doing the same thing at breakfast tables across London.

      ‘What did happen, Anna?’ Beatrice asked.

      Ever since the Prenderson ball Anna had kept herself distant from the rest of the household and steadfastly refused any visitors. Even her sweet younger cousin had been kept in the dark.

      ‘A misunderstanding, nothing more.’

      ‘This Edgerton chap has called on you twice,’ Mr Tenby said. ‘Seems keen to see you.’

      ‘He was merely trying to save an impossible situation.’

      ‘Decent young man by all accounts.’

      ‘Uncle,’ Anna said kindly, ‘I do not care if he takes in waifs and strays off the streets and gives half his income to the poor, I will never marry again.’

      ‘He’s very handsome, in a rugged sort of way,’ Beatrice said.

      Anna supposed he had been handsome. Sparkling blue eyes contrasting with hair so dark it was almost black, and a toned and muscular physique. She could see why he was dubbed one of London’s most eligible bachelors even without the title and the income that went with it.

      ‘He could look like a wild boar for all that it matters,’ Anna said.

      ‘And he proposed to you to save you from scandal. He’s clearly a gentleman of honour,’ Beatrice said, her voice dreamy and distant.

      Remembering what it was like to be eighteen and innocent, Anna ignored this last statement entirely, biting back the retort that was on her tongue.

      ‘Anna dear, you know you will always have a home here with me,’ her uncle said, ‘no matter what happens with your settlement from Lord Fortescue. I enjoy your company and dare say will even more so when my little Beatrice has left for a life with a husband of her own.’ Mr Tenby paused, as if considering whether to say more. ‘But more than your company, I wish for your happiness. One day you may want to marry again. You’re still young, you may want children, a home of your own. Don’t rule out anything yet.’

      ‘Of course, Uncle.’ Anna smiled at the kindly man who had taken her in after her husband had died. Lord Fortescue had three children from his first marriage. Two brutish sons and a spiteful daughter who had turned Anna out of her home less than thirty minutes after her husband’s death. They’d taken everything, left her with nothing but the clothes she was wearing, and even now were contesting the settlements she was due from her late husband’s estate. Anna’s uncle had travelled halfway across the country when he’d heard of her plight, swept her up into his carriage and brought her back to his home. He’d reminded her that there was kindness in the world and that not everyone was cruel and selfish.

      Patting her on the hand, Mr Tenby rose from his seat and made his way towards the door.

      ‘Whatever your feelings for this gentleman, he deserves an audience,’ he said softly, ‘even if it is just to end this engagement between you.’

      ‘Yes, Uncle.’

      Anna knew he was right. It had been rude and cowardly to refuse to see Lord Edgerton the past two days. If he came to call on her today, she would see him briefly and clear up any misunderstanding between them.

      * * *

      Harry whistled as he strode up the stairs two at a time. The sun was shining and it was impossible to feel anything but positive on such a day. Today he would insist on an audience with Lady Fortescue and no one would stand in his way.

      The door opened before he could raise the polished doorknocker and an elderly butler opened the door.

      ‘Lady Fortescue is in the music room, Lord Edgerton. She will see you directly.’

      Perhaps this was going to be easier than he had anticipated.

      Looking around him with interest, Harry followed the butler up the sweeping staircase to the first floor. As they climbed Harry could hear an exquisitely played piece of piano music getting louder, as if the pianist was growing in confidence with every note.

      ‘Lord Edgerton,’ the butler announced as he showed Harry into a sunny room. The piano music stopped abruptly and Lady Fortescue stood to greet him, her expression as inscrutable as it had been at the Prendersons’ ball.

      ‘A pleasure to see you again, Lady Fortescue. I do hope you have not been unwell,’ Harry said pointedly, reminding the woman who stood before him he’d tried to visit twice in the last two days. He wondered if she would lie, if she would pretend to have been stricken down with a bad chest or a headache, but instead Lady Fortescue regarded him for a few seconds before speaking.

      ‘I must confess I was hoping to put all this nonsense behind us,’ she said quietly.

      Harry waited for her to step out from behind the piano and glide towards him before he took her hand and bent over it formally. He felt her flinch ever so slightly at his touch, but her expression did not change.

      ‘Please have a seat.’ She motioned to one of two upright chairs positioned a few feet apart.

      ‘The world thinks we are engaged,’ Harry said, getting straight to the point. Lady Fortescue’s cool grey eyes were disconcerting when she fixed them so intently on his.

      ‘It would seem so.’ There was no reproach in her voice, just an air of mild uninterest.

      ‘I suppose that