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Out there was a veranda and the night air suddenly tempted her. She walked slowly along it, gazing at the lit-up garden, the sparkling fountains. Linette would have loved all this. She would have loved the dancing, the beautiful house, the people strolling along the paths just below her …

And she saw them there. Alec and—his stepmother.

They were talking in low voices, intent only on each other. Rosalie was frozen to the spot. His stepmother—so beautiful—had her palms pressed to Alec’s chest and looked as though she was pleading with him; while Alec, his expression grave, was shaking his head. His stepmother spoke a little more, then reached up on tiptoe to kiss him lingeringly on the lips. After that she turned and walked swiftly along a path that led back into the house—and Alec stood very still, as though he might never move again.

Half-remembered words were tumbling in chaotic confusion through Rosalie’s brain. ‘So she’s back in town! Dear God, she’s beautiful, but she’s wrecked his life.’

And that letter. I know there are risks, my dear, but might I see you?

Desperately she tried to make sense of it all. Perhaps Alec had loved this woman years ago, before she was married. And then she chose his father, for his title and money, thus embittering Alec for good. Yet still she toyed with him, summoning him with a scented note, a silken look …

Lady Aldchester was so very lovely. Rosalie felt her stomach pitching with nausea as she somehow got back into the house to find Verena. Her lips seemed to be refusing to form the right words as she said, ‘I’m not feeling very well. I’m really sorry to be such a nuisance, but I wonder, would your carriage take me back now?’

After that, it was easy. The next morning she got her things together, then found Verena and told her, ‘I received an invitation a few days ago, from an old friend who’s moved to the country. I’ve decided to go and stay with her for a while.’

Verena was bewildered. ‘But Alec … Is your betrothal at an end? Aren’t you going to speak to him before you go?’

Rosalie couldn’t bear to. Her heart would surely break. ‘I think he will understand.’

Verena looked grave. Disappointed in her. ‘I hope you’ll leave a note to tell Alec where you will be?’

Rosalie hesitated ‘Of course.’ Not that he would need it. He would realise, surely, that she knew his secret at last. I don’t think you’ll ever know how much I wish that things could have been different …

Quickly she wrote down Helen’s address; Verena took it, tight-lipped.

So here she was, on the mail coach to Oxford, with a new life ahead of her. And she knew she would never stop missing Alec Stewart for as long as she lived, but now she understood. Why his betrothal to Lady Emilia had been so brief. How he’d tried to stay away from his lovely stepmother. Why he’d deliberately excluded himself from polite society, to live an austere life with his soldiers.

But that woman clearly still held his heart in her smooth white hands.

Katy was sleeping again as the coach rocked on its way and Rosalie held her close. With her portion of the Lavalle fortune, she was free to do as she wanted. To live where she wanted.

And she wished, she wished she was back at shabby old Two Crows Castle, with Alec. In Alec’s arms. In Alec’s bed.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Two days later Alec was striding up the front steps of the house in Belgrave Square. A footman opened the big door, then Jarvis was hurrying towards him. ‘So very glad you could come, Master Alec! Such news, such dreadful news …’

‘My father said very little in his message. What’s wrong, Jarvis?’

‘I think your father would prefer to tell you himself, sir. Would you mind waiting a little, until I can inform him you’re here? His man of business arrived a while ago and they are still closeted in the library.’

‘Shall I wait in the parlour?’

‘Very good, sir. I’ll let you know the moment his lordship is free.’

And so Alec had time to remember the conversation between himself and Susanna at Lord Stokesay’s the other night.

She had looked so self-conscious, so artificial in that over-elaborate gown of pink silk and gauze. She’d also looked tense. She’d begged him to come with her into the garden, for privacy, and once there she’d murmured, ‘I realise you find it difficult to trust me. But I helped you last time, did I not, with my news about Stephen’s intentions towards the child?’

‘You did,’ he answered curtly, trying to keep his senses clear of that over-strong scent she used.

‘That little girl. Is she safe, Alec?’

‘Most certainly.’

She let out a breath of relief. ‘At least, then, I can feel I’ve done something of use, before I leave.’ She sighed.

‘You’re leaving the ball already?’ Alec asked sharply.

‘Not here—London, I mean! Oh, Alec, I have decided that your father does not deserve my wickedness. You are the one honest member of this family and I want to tell you that I am leaving England for good. I’m going back to Italy. Please tell your father I am sorry. And I know, my dear, that I do not deserve your good wishes, but I hope you believe me when I say that I truly wish you well.’

One lingering touch of her silken mouth upon his lips that left him cold and she was gone, leaving behind only her scent and the rekindled memories of the night he’d so bitterly regretted ever since.

* * *

In the winter of 1814, Napoleon was a prisoner on Elba, and London had become a city of parties and frivolity. By then Alec’s father was besotted with Susanna, the Contessa di Ascoli. Alec had been forced to acknowledge she was enticing indeed, with her soft raven curls, her ripe mouth and her sultry, dark-blue eyes. But he was wary, too, because he read lechery in the sidelong glances she cast his way.

That Christmas his father was at Carrfields, holding a house party that was to continue into the New Year. Alec, whose engagement to Lady Emilia was already faltering, had promised to come from London, but would stay for just two nights. He was due back with his regiment in early January, because Lord Wellington did not expect the peace to last.

By the time he arrived at Carrfields he was dog-tired, and dismayed by his father’s news that he and the Contessa—who was there as a guest—were engaged to be married. Last time Alec had met her he’d heard her saying that she would die if she had to stay in the country. But here she was at Carrfields, his father’s betrothed.

Alec had forced himself into his usual light-heartedness, drinking toasts in champagne to the happy couple with the rest. But thanks to his fatigue the drink had gone to his head and he was glad to make his excuses at midnight and retire to his room, where he’d fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

He thought he heard his door open two hours later, but imagined it, in his alcohol-induced languor, to be a dream. He stirred and muttered something, but the dream persisted; he imagined that someone was there in his room, a sinuous creature with long dark hair, who was starting to ease off her satin nightgown, then lowered herself to bed beside him, her silken hands stroking his powerful naked shoulders, her scent enveloping him.

‘Alec. Oh, Alec. How I desire you,’ she breathed.

Alec was aware of trying to fight his way through the confusion of heavy sleep, his mind still hazed by champagne and exhaustion; but in his dream the dark-haired nymph was pushing back the sheets to reach for his thickening member and twisting her lithe body to slip astride him. Uttering little cries of delight, she coaxed him and passionately caressed him into the act of love, then lay curled in his arms.

He’d woken before dawn to memories of that shadowy, erotic dream. His manhood was pulsing again, troubling him …

Then he realised. Someone was pressing herself against him, fondling him with languorous fingers, her tongue sliding between her lips and her dark-lashed blue eyes hot with invitation—

His soon-to-be stepmother. His naked, soon-to-be stepmother. He’d jumped from the bed. Hell. This nightmare had been only too real.

She watched his naked body as he started reaching for his clothes, her eyes lingering on his erection. ‘It’s early. Come back to bed,’ she’d murmured.

He was already struggling to pull on his breeches. Self-disgust fractured his being. ‘My God,’ he’d said through gritted teeth, ‘I hope you’re not still seriously considering getting married to my father.’

‘Why not?’ she’d queried softly. ‘Surely you are not going to tell him about this?’ She’d slid out of the bed and swayed towards him; he continued pulling on his clothes. She put her hands up to his chest, toying with the buttons of his coat. ‘We can do this again, whenever it’s convenient, can’t we? Your father need never know.’

‘You’re joking.’ Alec had pushed her away.

He’d set off back to London before the rest of the house was astir, filled with self-disgust. Surely his father could not marry this woman?

He’d tried to warn his father, before he was sent abroad again on his last spell of active service. The result was total estrangement between father and son. And the young Lady Emilia, already peevish at Alec’s devotion to his army duties, and bewildered by his increasingly sombre moods, hastily broke off their betrothal.

The Earl and Susanna had married in the summer of 1815, the summer of Waterloo. When Alec returned from the war he went to live at Two Crows Castle, effectively cutting himself off from his family.

That autumn he’d gone to a house party in a grand Kensington mansion, hosted by an officer of his regiment—Grenville—whom Alec hadn’t seen for some time. Alec had been under the impression it was to be a kind of army reunion, but clearly the event had grown in size. And Grenville hadn’t told Alec until he arrived that night that he’d also invited Alec’s father and his wife.

As it turned out, the Earl, unwell, had been unable to attend.

‘A shame about your father,’ Grenville had said to Alec. He was either unaware of father and son’s estrangement, or was bent on causing mischief. ‘But your stepmother’s turned up. Your brother offered to bring her, you see.’

Alec was deciding he liked Grenville less and less. And—Stephen, with Susanna? It wasn’t unknown, of course, for a male relative to escort a married woman to a social event. So Alec, trapped in a situation he had not foreseen, was curt to Stephen and coldly civil to Susanna. He stayed for barely two hours, then made his excuses to leave.

Like the other guests, the intention had been that he stayed overnight, so he first had to go upstairs and get his things from the chamber he’d been allotted on arrival. It was a little past eleven; his mind was already on his journey home.

But he’d pulled up with a jolt of utter disbelief when he came upon Stephen and Susanna, stealing out of a nearby bedroom.

To Alec it couldn’t have been plainer that they were fresh from intimacy. ‘My God,’ he’d breathed.

Stephen, straightening his neckcloth, had drawled, ‘Say one word about this, little brother, and you’re finished. I know from Susanna that you have no reason whatever to preach virtue at me.’

‘At least she wasn’t my stepmother at the time!’

Stephen said, ‘Do you think that would matter if our father were to find out?’

So Stephen had been able to hold that knife to Alec’s throat ever since.

Jarvis came into the parlour where Alec waited. ‘His lordship is ready to see you, Captain Stewart.’

‘My thanks, Jarvis.’

The Earl was still in his library, pacing the floor. When Alec entered, his father came almost hesitantly towards him.

‘Alec,’ he said. ‘You were so right, my son, to warn me about—about …’ He suddenly gripped Alec’s hand. ‘God help me,’ he whispered, ‘I’ve been such a fool.’

‘No, sir,’ said Alec quickly. ‘Never that. Please. Sit down.’

‘A fool is what I am,’ repeated the Earl bitterly. He sank into the chair to which Alec guided him and ran his fingers through his greying hair. ‘She’s gone back to Italy. She as good as told me it was tedious, living with an old man like me. And she’s taken all the family jewels!’ He began to laugh, a hollow sound. ‘Well, there’s no fool like an old fool, they say. And do you know? Stephen has set off after her. He says it’s to get the jewellery back. Says he feels huge concern for me and all the rest of it …’

Alec had gone very still. Stephen, gone after her. To get the jewels? To get Susanna? Or was it because he realised that, thanks to his attempt to kidnap Katy, Alec could now expose Stephen for the blackguard he was?

Alec said, ‘It’s good of Stephen to try to get the jewels back for you, sir.’

His father looked up at him in utter despair. ‘There’s no need to gammon me any longer, Alec. Stephen and she were rutting together whenever my back was turned. Weren’t they? Weren’t they, damn it?’

Alec braced himself. ‘For how long have you known this?’ he asked quietly.

‘There were signs I’d ignored, for months.’ His father clenched his hands. ‘But I knew for certain when Stephen came to visit me in the country. They thought I was in my bedchamber. I came downstairs and saw the two of them whispering together. Touching each other. God damn it, I tried to pretend I didn’t realise what it meant …’ The Earl shook his head. ‘Of course she probably cares for him even less than she did for me—he’ll just be an idle diversion for her. You, Alec, realised what she was from the start—that was why you tried to warn me off her, before our wedding—’ He broke off, coughing.

Now. Now was the time. ‘Sir, there is something I must tell you.’

And Alec told him the story of that one despicable night. He made no excuses for his own behaviour. ‘It was unforgivable of me,’ he said quietly.

After a long silence his father turned to Alec and said, ‘You did try to tell me, didn’t you?’

‘I did, sir, but not strongly enough.’

His father waved his hand dismissively. ‘Ah, I was an old besotted fool, I wouldn’t have listened to a word anyway.’ He got up and went to the window, his shoulders rigid. Then at last he turned round and said, ‘Did you take all your war diaries away, my son?’

‘Almost all, sir. But there were just a few left, which of course I intend to remove as soon as possible.’

‘You know, Alec …’ his father’s voice was hesitant ‘… you never did tell me about Waterloo. I wonder, are you free for an hour or so?’

‘For as long as you wish, sir,’ said Alec quietly.

‘Perhaps,’ his father said, ‘you would spare a little time to go through the battle with me? I find myself rather in need of company. And, you know, I never did understand why Wellington said that the whole outcome of Waterloo turned on the Coldstream Guards holding some damned gate at a place called Hougoumont …’

Alec went over to the bookcase for his father’s maps, spread them out on a nearby table, then pulled up chairs for himself and his father and started pointing out the battle lines. ‘Here’s Hougoumont, below the escarpment. It was a farm with gated grounds that Wellington had fortified, a crucial position—the French attacked it all day.’

‘And is that the north gate?’

‘Yes. There the enemy might have broken through were it not for Macdonnell and his Coldstream Guards defending it hand to hand. Then Halkett’s Hanoverian Brigade reinforced Macdonnell’s men and they somehow held on, despite heavy losses.’

‘Ah, Halkett’s men.’ The Earl nodded.

‘Indeed, sir. Lord Wellington always said that between them they won the battle for him there …’

Alec was in no hurry. He had all the time in the world spreading out empty before him, now that Rosalie had gone. For he had realised what he should have acknowledged weeks ago: that he simply could not bear to live his life without her.

Yet clearly—she couldn’t have made it plainer—she wanted nothing at all to do with him. Had removed herself entirely from his life. Why had she left so suddenly?

Alec knew that the attempt to kidnap Katy, and the news that Alec’s brother was the villain, had shaken her badly. Perhaps she’d been right and he should have told her earlier about Stephen. But surely she’d forgiven him, when she realised how thorough had been Alec’s preparations to safeguard the little girl? Hadn’t Rosalie tended Alec’s slight injury herself, her eyes full of something like tenderness?

But she’d gone, and there was no message for him, only an address—Helen’s address—that he gathered she’d been reluctant to give. Perhaps Rosalie had decided she could no longer bear to be in the company of someone who would always remind her of Linette’s evil seducer. Remind her of Katy’s father, God damn it.

It was as well she’d never know how he’d betrayed his father with Susanna. Or—perhaps she did. His stomach pitched as he realised—that could be it. At Lord Stokesay’s ball—somehow she’d realised. She’d somehow found out—and that was why she’d left.

Oh, God. Who could blame her?

Meanwhile, he’d neglected his fencing lessons lately for the other matters, and day after day more soldiers came to Two Crows Castle begging for shelter. Alec knew it was possible now that his father might offer to restore his aid. But in the meantime drastic action was called for, if they were not to close down within weeks.

After leaving his father, Alec rode to his bank in the Temple, to ask for more time to pay his bills. As he was ushered into a private office, he braced himself.

Then a senior clerk hurried in, smiling. ‘Captain Stewart. This is indeed a lucky chance! I was about to contact you …’

And Alec listened, almost in disbelief, as the clerk told him that a large sum of money had been given into the bank’s care—for the benefit of the soldiers at Two Crows Castle. And the donor wished to remain completely anonymous.

His father? His father would have told him, surely! The clerk refused to say any more. But Alec, on his way out past the rows of junior clerks at their desks, was stopped by a scrawny lad in black, sweeping the floor.

‘Captain Stewart?’ the boy whispered eagerly. ‘You remember me, don’t you, Captain Stewart? I got a job here now, Captain, running errands and the like!’

‘Mikey! You stayed at Two Crows Castle for a couple of weeks, didn’t you?’

‘I did, and it was thanks to that place I got this job. And funnily enough, I saw someone else here from Two Crows Castle only the other day, Captain!’

‘You did? Who was he?’

‘Not a he, Captain,’ said Mikey importantly. ‘But a she.’

As Mikey explained who, Alec began to understand. And—to hope.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was a warm May afternoon and Rosalie was in the orchard at the back of Helen and Francis’s pretty house, sitting on a rug in the shade of a blossom-laden apple tree while she read stories to Katy and Toby.

She had been here for a few weeks now, renting a cottage close to the village of Heythrop. The banns had been read three times in Heythrop’s pretty church; Helen and Francis were married now and Helen had welcomed Rosalie like a lamb returned to the fold.

‘Oh, my dear Rosalie, I knew you’d see sense in the end!’ she had cried.

‘Captain Stewart proved to be a true and honourable friend,’ Rosalie had replied quietly. ‘And he helped me to find Katy’s father.’

‘So—is the villain going to be made to pay for his wickedness to poor Linette?’

‘I think he has paid, Helen.’ Rosalie could still hardly bear to think of the kidnap attempt on Katy. ‘Though the fewer people who know of it, the better. And Katy and I are quite safe from him, thanks to Captain Stewart.’

Helen had kept hugging them both, and laughing and crying, and trying to ask more. But sensible Francis had drawn his wife aside gently. ‘Give Miss Rowland time to get her breath, Helen! You’ll be tired, my dear,’ he added to Rosalie, ‘after your journey.’

‘I’m fine.’ But Rosalie had smiled at him, in gratitude. ‘Mr Wheeldon, I cannot thank you enough, for putting me in touch with my mother’s family. And I want to tell you and Helen that I would like to give some money towards your school—no, I will not allow any arguments! There will still be more than enough for me and Katy, I assure you!’

And for Two Crows Castle. She hugged that thought to herself over the next few days, remembering her visit to the bank. It was so strange that she’d bumped into Mikey there, who told her how much he’d enjoyed working in the garden. She’d had to hurry away, because of the stupid tears brimming in her eyes.

She and Katy had settled quickly into their little cottage. The fact that it was less than ten miles from the place where she grew up gave her a sense of peace, of redemption even, to be here again with Katy. To visit her mother’s grave, and their old home, which was inhabited now by a pleasant young family. To watch Katy, so happy in the places like the riverside where she and Linette had played.

Helen had offered to send over their daily maidservant to help her in her new abode, but Rosalie preferred to do everything herself, brushing and sweeping from dawn till dusk. Action was a necessity, for a great ache of loneliness—of sheer loss—filled her almost unbearably whenever she thought of Alec Stewart.

Once the cottage was neat as a new pin, she helped Helen in the school, teaching the small ones to read. But now school had finished for the day, which was why she was in the orchard with Katy and Toby, equipped with buttered scones and a pitcher of lemonade for when the storytelling was over. Helen and Francis had taken a trip into Chipping Norton in their dog cart to visit the shops there, so she was surprised to hear the sound of steady hoofbeats approaching.

Katy heard it, too, and wandered off towards the low hedge that separated the orchard from the lane. She turned back to Rosalie, her little face alight.

‘Tick-tock man!’ she cried in joy.

Rosalie felt her heart do a topsy-turvy somersault. No. It could not be … She got slowly to her feet.

But it was. It was Alec. Lithely dismounting, he looped his horse’s reins over the gatepost and was striding towards her, his hair rumpled, his boots dusty from the road, but still so handsome that her breath caught thickly in her throat.

Katy was the first to reach him; he swung her up in his arms and kissed her cheek. ‘How’s my girl?’ He smiled.

But his eyes—his dark, burning eyes—were on Rosalie. ‘I’ve come to thank you,’ he said to her. ‘For what you did for Two Crows Castle.’

She’d scrambled to her feet, knowing her straw hat was askew. ‘But you weren’t supposed to know …’

‘And no one deliberately betrayed your trust,’ he assured her. ‘But …’ And he explained about Mikey.

‘Of course,’ she said wonderingly. ‘I saw him there.’

‘He misses the garden. And you,’ he told her. There was something in his eyes, in his voice, that made her dizzy with an emotion she didn’t dare to name.

Then Katy was tugging at his hand, and Alec sat with them all in the orchard, sharing their lemonade and scones. Afterwards he showed the children how to roll pennies along the smoothed-out rug, making Toby laugh with delight at his success and guiding little Katy.

Rosalie watched his long, lithe figure as he sprawled in the grass in his shirt sleeves, the sun hot on his brown forearms, one of them marked by the jagged scar she remembered so well. Though a tight ache of longing squeezed at her chest, she tried her hardest just to be content that he was here, that he turned to her every so often with a look of such warmth in his dark eyes that her foolish heart leapt.

He has only come to thank me for the money, she warned herself. Nothing else has changed. His heart is not free. Soon he will be leaving again.

When Helen and Francis got back they were surprised to see him here. But Francis warmly invited Alec to eat with them and Katy was put to bed in the room next to Toby’s so the adults could dine together that evening. Francis was aware of Alec Stewart’s work with homeless soldiers; now he openly showed his interest. As for Helen—well, Helen was melting, slowly but surely.

‘He is rather charming,’ she confided reluctantly when she and Rosalie were alone together in the parlour after the meal, while the men took a glass of port. ‘And so very handsome … Obviously I’d got hold of the wrong end of the stick about him. An earl’s son, you say? And he dealt with the villain who wronged poor Linette. Hmmm.’

Rosalie didn’t even want to think about Stephen now. All that filled her mind was Alec. Alec was here. It means nothing. You know it means nothing …

The men joined them very soon afterwards, and Helen began to say, ‘You may stay here, of course, Captain Stewart, we have a bed made up!’

Alec looked at his watch. ‘I actually planned on staying at the Heythrop Inn tonight. But on my way back, perhaps I could escort Miss Rowland home.’

‘Oh, Francis will do that, won’t you, Fra—?’

But Rosalie would swear that Francis had, most definitely, given his wife’s arm a warning pinch.

Tomorrow, Alec would be leaving her life again. He’d only come to thank her for the money, hadn’t he?

It was less than a quarter of a mile back to her cottage, and a beautiful, moonlit evening. He led his horse, and as they walked she told him lightly about the school and how well Katy had settled in here. He waited while she unlocked the door, then she turned to him.

He was going to leave her again now. She gazed up one last time at that proud, handsome profile that had stunned her at the Temple of Beauty. ‘Thank you for seeing me home,’ she began. ‘Now you will want to ride on to the inn.’

Something blazed in his dark eyes. Some emotion that caught at her quivering heart, pounded through her veins, melting her very bones.

‘Rosalie,’ he said, ‘why did you leave London so suddenly?’

Her throat seemed to have closed up. ‘I really think you must guess why …’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t. May I come in? Just for a brief while? We really must talk.’

She couldn’t answer.

‘Go inside,’ he urged gently. ‘I’ll see to my horse. Is there a stable?’

‘Round the back. A neighbour uses it sometimes, everything’s there.’

She went inside. Her throat felt as though it could hardly drag air into her lungs. Tension made her sick. She’d just lit the fire that was ready laid in the grate when he came back in, bowing his dark head a fraction to enter the low-beamed door.

‘Please tell me everything,’ he said simply.

What had she to lose?

He joined her on the sofa, not too near, not too far. He was very quiet as she told him how she’d seen him with his stepmother at Lord Stokesay’s ball. She began to shiver again. ‘I saw how beautiful she was, Alec,’ she said. ‘And I’d heard your men talk about someone who had hurt you badly in the past. I’d assumed it was your fiancée …’ Her clear voice, so steady till now, faltered at last. ‘But that night I realised that you must have loved her and were devastated when she married your father …’

He said, ‘That is not true. You must believe me. I never loved my stepmother, ever.’

And she began, at last, to hope.

A slow tide of exhilaration was surging through Alec’s veins. He remembered Mikey’s words. ‘She went dashing out, Captain Stewart, with tears in her eyes when I talked about you and Two Crows Castle!’

Those tears were precious. The money—her gift—had given him the excuse to make this journey. Rosalie’s tears had given him hope.

He must not press her. He mustn’t overwhelm her. Hadn’t she endured enough, in her usual calm, courageous way? But she did, at the very least, deserve the truth.

Steadily Alec told her the whole sorry tale. How Susanna had come to him that one wretched night, when she was already promised to his father, and seduced him when he was befuddled with drink and fatigue. How he had tried to warn his father away from her, but had only alienated the Earl, badly. How he’d discovered that Stephen, too—Rosalie let out a low cry at this—had shared that woman’s bed, often.

She listened to him intently and he saw the colour tinting her cheeks as his story unfolded. She clasped her hands in her lap throughout; only at the end did she say, ‘But when I saw her with you at Lord Stokesay’s, she—she looked as though she still loved you …’

His face became hard briefly. ‘Perhaps she does care for me in her own way. But she was saying goodbye to me, Rosalie.’

‘Goodbye?’

Again he saw the emotions fluttering across her delicate face like shadows. The anguish in her eyes as she absorbed all this. Gently, he told himself. Gently. She is not sure she can trust you, for God’s sake.

Alec wanted to enfold her in his arms and soothe away her suffering, and tell her she was safe. But this wasn’t over yet. Instead he took her hand in his and said, ‘She left my father the day afterwards to return to Italy, taking the family’s jewels with her. Stephen went after her.’

‘To get them back? To get her back?’ she whispered.

He held her hand fast and said, ‘Ostensibly to get the jewels back. But who knows—perhaps Stephen felt some kind of affection for her? However, I think he probably seized on it all as a convenient reason to leave London for a while. He would have been afraid, you see, that I would spread the news about his attempt to kidnap Katy. That I might make known the whole, shameful business of his seduction of Linette and his efforts to silence you, Rosalie.’

‘But if you’d told Linette’s story, your family’s reputation might have suffered. You would have sacrificed that?’