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the door behind her as a hand caught her wrist and pulled her behind one of the potted palms that flanked the entrance. ‘Francis. It was you.’ Not a nightmare, or, rather, not a bad dream. She stared at him blankly, all feeling and all ability to move deserting her.

      This is the man who killed Michael, a voice in her head stated, as though giving a lecture. But it was also Michael’s friend. Her friend. She had never believed he intended Michael harm and she could not feel fear now, or hatred, only a numb sort of shock.

      ‘I have to talk to you,’ he said urgently, his voice low. ‘I had to see you before you heard that I had returned in any other way.’

      He was thinner, she thought. Still handsome, although all the vibrancy that had made him so attractive to be with had gone, leaving his face serious and drawn. ‘Heard... How can you be back?’ she managed.

      ‘I have been cleared of any ill intent towards Michael. My godfather used his influence to get the inquest re-opened. No, do not say it—he did not use any influence to change the verdict, only to allow the evidence to be heard properly, but—’

      Behind them, in another world, the music stopped and reality rushed back and with it, her voice. ‘We cannot talk now, here. Anyone might come out at any minute. Go to my house and knock. Give this to Maude, my maid, she will let you wait in the drawing room.’ She took a card from her reticule and scribbled a few words. ‘You know where I live, don’t you? You were there last night.’

      ‘I know. I saw you come back, but you looked so tired, I didn’t have the heart to approach you then.’

      ‘Go. Please, just go.’ She gave him a little push. ‘I cannot be seen with you.’

      ‘No, of course—I hardly fit in, dressed like this.’ He smiled wryly and waved a hand to encompass his breeches and boots and somewhat dusty coat.

      That was not what Sara meant, but she nodded and turned back to the ballroom before Francis had even vanished around the corner of the building.

      ‘Are you well?’ Lucian was at her side, his broad shoulders shielding her from the crowded room. ‘I saw you go outside—is it too hot for you?’

      ‘I—’

      I should tell him, ask him to come home with me and then talk to Francis with Lucian at my side. But would he understand?

      Inevitably, the reason for the duel would come up. Would Lucian think less of her? It was cowardly to fear the truth, but she could not help it. And Francis was no threat to her. That was the one thing she was certain of. Whether she was a threat to him remained to be seen.

      Michael...

      ‘It is hot, isn’t it? But I am well.’ She went up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, ‘But too jealous to watch you succumbing to the charms of Miss Wharton in her primrose silk.’

      ‘It is a close call to choose between you both,’ Lucian said, straight-faced. ‘But as I have fallen deeply for your mother I can make the decision based on a comparison of mothers-in-law and there is no contest in that case.’

      ‘Wretch.’ Sara poked one finger into his flat stomach, surprising a grunt from him. ‘Dance with me so I can make all the other ladies jealous.’

      ‘They must be already,’ Lucian murmured, caressing one long finger down her cheek, then cupping her face tenderly. ‘You are the most beautiful, the most accomplished, the most elegant lady here.’

      ‘And you, my lord, are the most arrant flirt!’ If she didn’t think about Francis until she got home she could do this, appear natural and relaxed and happy—and deceive Lucian.

      * * *

      ‘May I come in?’ he asked as he gave her his hand to help her from the sedan chair and walked her to her door. ‘This morning was bliss, but very quick bliss. I would very much like to spend the night making up for that...slowly. I will come round to the back gate so no one will see me go in. That would be more discreet.’

      ‘Lucian—I am sorry, but not tonight. Do you mind very much? I had such a bad night last night. Tomorrow—come for luncheon and then you need not leave at all.’

      ‘Of course.’ His kiss was quick as they stood in the shadows, then he took her latch key and waited until she was inside before murmuring, ‘Good night and sweet dreams, Sara.’

      ‘I will try and dream of you,’ she promised as she shut the door.

      Maude came out into the hall at the sound of the door closing, but Sara held up her hand for silence, leaning back against the panels until the sound of Lucian’s footsteps faded away down the street.

      ‘Did a gentleman call, Maude?’ she said at last.

      ‘Yes, my lady. He showed me your card and I put him in the drawing room. I gave him a light supper, my lady, and the decanters. I hope I did right?’

      ‘Yes, thank you, Maude. He is an old friend from Cambridge.’ Which did not explain receiving him at night. She took a deep breath. ‘Maude, that is the man who fought the duel with my husband.’

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