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about…passion. And so will you be.’

      ‘I see.’ Marcus got to his feet. ‘How very practical you are, Nell. You pour a positive bucketful of cold water over heated dreams.’

      ‘That is how it has to be.’ Nell managed a smile. ‘I cannot afford dreams.’

      ‘I would give them to you if I could,’ Marcus said, and for a moment the tenderness in his eyes was almost more than she could bear.

      ‘I know,’ she managed, the smile still intact.

      He stooped and she did not try and avoid his mouth, or the gentle touch of his hand as he cradled the back of her head and held her for his kiss. It would be the last time, the last dream.

      She would remember every detail, she told herself as his mouth moved over hers with possessive tenderness. The taste of him, the texture of his skin as she laid her palm against his cheek, the scent of him, the leashed power under her other hand where the muscles of his arm clenched with the effort he was making to hold back, the sweep of his eyelashes as she opened her own eyes to look into his face.

      And then those thick dark lashes lifted and he broke the kiss.

      ‘Wise Nell,’ he murmured. And was gone.

      Chapter Seventeen

      For that day, and the next, a strange calm lay over Stanegate Court. Hal and Marcus rode out, deployed the keepers and the grounds staff on patrols and searches, and found nothing.

      The Gypsies had moved, the keepers told him, only ashes and hoof marks to show where they had been. ‘And wagon wheels,’ Randall the head keeper reported. ‘Not like their usual tilt carts, something bigger.’ He shrugged. ‘Gone now anyway, my lord.’

      Marcus doubted it. Moved, certainly, but the Romany tribe was still around somewhere. ‘A pity,’ he said. ‘They have sharp eyes; they might have seen someone.’

      He was restless, urgent for action, frustrated by the dark man’s ability to melt like a ghost into the woods. And Nell’s presence in the house did not help. He wanted her more with each passing day and she, it seemed, might want his lovemaking, but not his love.

      ‘Are you going to marry Nell?’ Hal asked as they sat on their horses on Beacon Hill, scanning the hillsides for some betraying trickle of smoke.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Ah, the scandal,’ his brother said. ‘No doubt you are wise. You are the heir, after all.’

      ‘I have not put it to the touch; she will not allow me to ask.’

      Hal’s gasp of astonishment would have been flattering if it was not followed by a snort of laughter. ‘Sensible woman.’

      ‘Indeed?’

      ‘Don’t poker up with me, Marc. She wants to be independent.’

      ‘She was independent and on the edge of poverty. I fail to see the virtue of independence for a woman under those circumstances.’

      ‘And now she will be independent and comfortable. Secure. And she does not have to listen to scandalmongers dragging her father’s sins out to be picked over, or have you issuing challenges left right and centre whenever you think she’s been slighted.’ Hal turned up the collar of his caped coat against the wind. ‘And she can take a lover if she wishes, when she is ready to.’

      Corinth tossed his head as the bit jabbed his mouth. Marcus forced his hand to relax. ‘I’ll not bother with the challenge if you touch on that subject again,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ll just knock your teeth out.’

      ‘You can try,’ Hal said, equally calmly. ‘Just remember, I’ve been fighting for my life recently, not in Gentleman Jackson’s boxing salon.’

      ‘Believe me,’ Marcus said, looking out over the bleak expanse of the snow-covered Vale of Aylesbury, ‘I would kill for Nell. But not you, little brother.’ He set his spurs to the big grey’s sides and galloped off along the ridge, hearing the thunder of Hal’s hunter behind him, trying to forget everything in the sting of the wind and the feel of the surging muscles under him.

      Mid-morning on the second day, Nell found herself alone in the small drawing room with Diana Price. The companion was reading what looked very like a book of sermons, but put it to one side as Nell came in and sat on the other side of the fireplace. She was, Nell thought, almost super naturally calm, collected and proper. Her energetic skating had been the nearest Nell had seen to her letting go and enjoying herself. It was a relief, somehow, to be curious about someone else and not be constantly staring inwards at her own preoccupations.

      ‘Do you mind me asking,’ she said, stretching out a hand to the fire, ‘but how did you come to be a lady’s companion? My sister was one—she may still be, for all I know—and I was thinking about her, wondering what the life is like.’ Diana looked up sharply, and Nell hastened to add, ‘I do not want you to say anything about your employers, naturally.’

      ‘One’s employers make all the difference,’ Diana said dryly. ‘With considerate, intelligent people such as the Carlows, the position is very congenial. With a stupid or tyrannical employer, it can be hell, I believe.’ She bit her lip, as though undecided whether to say more; then, almost as if it were dragged out of her, she added, ‘My father lost everything gambling. In one night he was, effectively, ruined by—’ She broke off, staring into the flames.

      ‘Please, say no more. It must be most distressing,’ Nell said, feeling quite dreadful that her probing had touched such a raw nerve.

      Diana shook her head as though trying to clear it, looked at Nell and seemed to reach a decision. ‘He was ruined by a card sharp. A man so young, so innocent looking, my father had no idea of his danger. By morning he had lost everything—our house, his money…everything. Papa never recovered, his health was shattered. I thank God that Mama did not live to see it. He moved North and took what work he could. Somehow he managed to keep out of debtors’ prison, but I had no option but to seek employment.’

      ‘I am so sorry,’ Nell said warmly. ‘And I am so glad you found a happy position here.’

      ‘We have one thing in common,’ Diana said, her eyes fixed on Nell’s face as though she was searching it. ‘We have both been ruined by a feckless young man. You would not have been in the position you were, had your brother not deserted you.’

      ‘Oh, no! Nathan did not desert us, I am sure of that.’ Distressed, Nell got to her feet and began to pace. ‘I do not know what happened to him—and I fear the worst—yet surely I would know if my own brother had died? He was getting into bad company, that I do know. Suddenly there was money—not regularly, but more than I could account for by him taking odd jobs of work. He would not tell us where it was coming from, yet when I challenged him he swore he was not stealing.’

      Diana Price made a sound so like a snort of disbelief that Nell turned in surprise. The other woman was on her feet, gathering up her book and handkerchief. She gave Nell a thin smile. ‘I like you, Miss…Wardale. Despite everything.’

      The door closed behind her, leaving Nell puzzled and uneasy in the quiet room.

      Nell watched Marcus, as she had throughout dinner. He was brooding, but not, she sensed, about her. As Lady Narborough rose after dinner, Marcus came to himself with a start, almost late on his feet as the women got up.

      ‘Nell, Hal, Father—there is something I would like to discuss. Mama, can you spare Nell for half an hour?’

      ‘If she does not object to your port,’ his mother said with a smile.

      ‘Thank you, Watson, that will be all.’ The earl waited for the room to clear. ‘Would you care for a glass of ratafia, my dear?’

      ‘Might I try port?’ Nell asked. ‘I never have.’ The room seemed suddenly overwhelmingly masculine with the silver and porcelain cleared, the white linen removed, just the glasses and

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