Chapter Three

      Lizzie was a bundle of nerves. It didn’t help that she hadn’t slept much at all. Every time she’d closed her eyes she’d been back in the Prestons’ garden being seduced by a mystery man. She didn’t even know his name. Even now she could feel the faint tingle of desire as she remembered his hands on her waist and his lips brushing her own.

      She wondered if he would call on her, as he’d said he would. She didn’t know if she even wanted him to. She was torn. Half of her wanted to meet this man who had kissed her so passionately the night before, but the other half wanted to hold on to the dream. If he saw her in the light of day, Lizzie knew he’d realise he’d made a mistake. Perhaps it would be better if their dalliance was kept as something magical, something Lizzie could hold on to for the rest of her life. It wasn’t as though he would desire her once he actually met her properly and maybe it would be better if she didn’t actually see the disappointment in his face as he looked at her in the daylight.

      ‘Look, Amelia,’ Aunt Mathilda said as she entered the room, ‘these have just arrived for you.’

      She was carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers, tied with a red ribbon. Lizzie found herself smiling, wondering if they were from her mystery gentleman the night before. She hadn’t even found out his name, she realised.

      She took the card from Aunt Mathilda and felt her smile falter slightly as she read it. No, these certainly weren’t from her mystery gentleman. The card was signed Mr Anthony Green and Lizzie found it hard not to shudder as she remembered their encounter the night before. She’d been introduced to many eligible gentlemen, both young and old. Most had been pleasant, although she suspected had been more interested in putting a face to the dowry than actually making her acquaintance. Mr Anthony Green had been repulsive. Not in looks—in fact, he was quite a handsome man in his early thirties—but in manner. He’d lingered over her hand just a little too long and gone out of his way to touch her upper arm at any opportunity. That in itself, of course, didn’t make him repulsive, but she’d found that he had spent more time ogling the fine jewels that hung around her neck than actually looking at her. And he’d spoken of her fortune and her dowry to her face. It might have been Lizzie’s first night out in society, but even she knew dowries were something that were whispered about behind closed doors. Mr Green had made it perfectly clear that all he was interested in was her money, and that he didn’t even think it was worth trying to disguise the fact.

      Aunt Mathilda arranged the flowers on the windowsill and looked at them approvingly.

      ‘I’m sure you’ll be receiving many more bouquets, my dear, and hopefully a few gentlemen callers this afternoon.’

      Lizzie saw Harriet’s eyes narrow at the idea of her receiving a call from an eligible gentleman, but Lizzie tried to ignore it. She wasn’t sure why Harriet disliked her so much on first sight, but she wasn’t going to provoke the situation.

      ‘I’m sure you’re glad you were sufficiently recovered from your illness to make your début now,’ Harriet said snidely.

      Lizzie had tried to feign an illness to delay her coming out, hoping that Aunt Mathilda might let her stay hidden in her house until Amelia returned. She’d complained of a headache, fever and light-headedness, and had even gone as far as to hold the teapot to her cheeks before Aunt Mathilda came to check on her, but the older woman had sat down beside her, taken her hand and told her not to worry. She had seen through Lizzie’s ruse and put it down to Lizzie feeling nervous about making her début, so Lizzie had found herself hustled into her beautiful dress and into the carriage before she could even begin to think of another excuse to delay.

      The door to the drawing room opened quietly and the butler, an elderly man with an unflappable demeanour, stepped inside.

      ‘The Earl of Burwell to see Miss Amelia Eastway,’ Tippings announced.

      Immediately all three women stiffened. Certainly they had been expecting calls from gentlemen of the ton, but an earl was in quite another league.

      Aunt Mathilda quickly crossed the room to Lizzie’s side.

      ‘You know the Earl of Burwell?’ she asked, her face drained of colour.

      Even Harriet looked a little impressed.

      Lizzie couldn’t answer. Had she met the Earl of Burwell? If so, he hadn’t stuck in her mind and she rather thought an earl should do.

      Unless, of course, he was her mystery gentleman. Lizzie suddenly felt sick. Had she been kissed by an earl in the Prestons’ garden? Surely not. Surely that was something a girl would know. He’d seemed so nice, so normal, not earl-like at all. She felt her face flush at the idea of him seeing her in the light of day and wondered if she had time to escape. Maybe feign a swoon.

      The door opened once again and a man stepped inside. Out of habit Lizzie found herself standing and dropping into a little bob of a curtsy as a greeting. Only then did she have the courage to raise up her eyes and look at the man she might or might not have kissed the night before.

      Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened. Whomever she had expected to be standing in front of her it wasn’t this man.

      ‘You,’ she said before she could stop her mouth forming the words.

      Lizzie could see this man was equally as surprised.

      A thousand thoughts ran through Lizzie’s mind at once, not a single one coherent or helpful. Aunt Mathilda looked between Lizzie and the earl, but ever the polite hostess she invited him to sit without any further enquiry.

      ‘It is delightful to see you again, Miss Eastway,’ the earl said, sounding rather too composed for Lizzie’s liking.

      The pieces started to fall into place and Lizzie wondered how she had not recognised his voice the night before. The Earl of Burwell was certainly her mystery gentleman, but it was not the first time they’d met. He was also the gentleman who had saved Lizzie from nearly being trampled to death by his horse, the man who had dismissed her with a single glance.

      Lizzie wanted to curl up and disappear. She wondered how disappointed he was when he saw her, when he realised last night was not the first time they’d set eyes on each other.

      ‘It’s a beautiful afternoon,’ Aunt Mathilda said, trying to break some of the tension in the room.

      ‘It is indeed,’ the earl said.

      ‘How did you and Miss Eastway meet?’ Harriet asked and Lizzie remembered the smirk on