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much of her legs. And what game was it he suspected her of playing?

      ‘Oh, yes. You are a rebel, aren’t you?’

      Well, that much was true. She had rebelled against Mama and Papa’s wishes to come to London for this Season.

      And since she’d been here, she’d been rebelling against all the strictures imposed upon her behaviour.

      ‘Ha! I knew it. Your guilty expression has given it away. You are merely pretending to go along with all this...’ He waved his hand to include not only the ballroom, but by extension, the whole society it represented. ‘But the fact that you felt the need to go galloping round the park at dawn, unfettered by all the restrictions society would impose on you, coupled with the dreadful way you are dressed, hints at a cunning scheme to avoid falling into the trap of matrimony.’

      ‘Absolutely not,’ she retorted, stung by his continuing references to her poor choice of clothing. ‘If you must know...’ she drew herself to her full height, which meant she only had to tilt her head the slightest bit to look him straight in the eyes ‘...I dressed like this because...because...’

      She paused, wondering why on earth Aunt Susan had permitted her to buy so many things that didn’t suit her. When she was doing so much to make her a social success.

      And it came to her in a flash.

      ‘This is the first time I have ever been anywhere near a fashionable dressmaker and my aunt didn’t want to ruin the pleasure of being able to feel satin against my skin, or picking out lace and ribbons and feathers by objecting to every single gaudy thing I set my heart upon.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘And I do want to get married. That is why I’ve come to London. To find somebody who will...value me and...admire me and talk to me as if what I have to say is...not a joke!’

      He flinched.

      ‘Oh, there is no need to worry that I will ever set my sights on you,’ she said with a curl of her lip. And, as a fleeting look of relief flitted across his face, she had another flash of insight. ‘That is what you meant, isn’t it, about playing a game? You are avoiding matrimony. Like the plague.’

      He started and the wary look that came across his face told her she’d hit the nail on the head.

      And then, because he’d had so much fun baiting her, she couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to turn the tables on him. It wouldn’t take much. He’d practically handed her all the ammunition she needed.

      ‘What devilish schemes,’ he said in alarm, ‘are running through that pretty head of yours?’

      Pretty? She looked up at him sharply.

      And met his eyes, squarely, for the first time that night.

      And felt something arc between them, something that flared through all the places that he’d set ablaze when he’d crushed her to his chest and kissed her.

      ‘You think I’m pretty?’

      What a stupid thing to say. Of all the things she might have said, all the clever responses she could have flung at him, she’d had to focus on that.

      Fortunately, it seemed to amuse him.

      ‘In spite of those hideous clothes, and the ridiculous feathers in your hair, yes, Lady Harriet, you know full well you are vastly pretty.’

      The words, and the way he said them, felt like being stroked all the way down her spine with a velvet glove. Even though they weren’t true. She’d had no idea anyone might think she was pretty. Let alone vastly pretty.

      Even so, she wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

      ‘You are not going to turn me up sweet by saying things like that,’ she said sternly. ‘One word from me, just one, about that kiss in the park and my outraged family will be dragging you to the altar so fast it will make your head spin.’

      ‘What? You wouldn’t!’

      ‘Oh, wouldn’t I?’

      ‘No, now look here, Lady Harriet—’

      ‘Oh, don’t worry. The ordeal of being shackled to you for the rest of my life does not appeal. In the slightest. I’m just reminding you that I have as much on you as you have on me.’

      At that point, they reached the chair upon which Aunt Susan was sitting, beaming at them.

      ‘Your niece, Lady Tarbrook,’ said Lord Becconsall, letting go of her hand as though it was red hot and making his bow rather stiffly. He then gave her a look which seemed two parts frustration and one part irritation, before turning and marching away, his back ramrod stiff.

      ‘Harriet, I despair of you,’ said her aunt as Harriet sank to the chair at her side, her knees shaking, her palms sweating and her insides feeling as if they were performing acrobatics.

      ‘There you had the chance of making a conquest of one of the most elusive bachelors in Town, and what must you do but frighten the poor man off. Whatever did you say to him on the dance floor to make him run away like that?’

      She considered for a moment.

      ‘Only that I had no wish to marry him, when he raised the subject,’ she said daringly.

      ‘What!’ Aunt Susan looked aghast. ‘You turned down a proposal from Lord Becconsall? Not that I can believe he really did propose. Although,’ she mused, fanning herself rapidly, ‘he really is such a very harum-scarum young man it is probably exactly the sort of thing he would do. To fall in love at first sight and propose in the middle of Astley’s Hornpipe.’

      Of course he hadn’t fallen in love at first sight. Nor had he proposed. But something inside her softened towards her aunt for believing he could easily have done both.

      However, ‘You cannot wish me to marry a...harum-scarum young man, can you?’

      ‘What can that matter when it would be such a triumph for you? Oh, I know he is only a viscount and one would, in the normal way of things, hope for a much better match for a girl of your background, but the way your training has been neglected one cannot expect a man with very nice tastes to look twice at you.’

      The soft feeling chilled into the more usual wedge of inferiority and loneliness with which Harriet was familiar.

      ‘Not once he’s seen your performance on the dance floor,’ Aunt Susan continued. ‘My dear, what were you thinking, to collide with Lady Vosborough in that clumsy way? Unless Lord Becconsall had just that moment proposed. Yes, I suppose that would have shocked you enough to make a misstep completely understandable.’

      ‘Well, yes, it would,’ said Harriet, deciding that this had gone far enough. ‘But—’

      ‘If he proposes again, or if any gentleman proposes to you again,’ continued Aunt Susan as though she hadn’t spoken, ‘you are not to turn him down out of hand. You are to tell him you will reflect upon the matter and come to me, and I will advise you. I know all there is to know about any gentleman who might propose, you may be sure.’

      Although Harriet really had no intention of marrying Lord Becconsall, even if he ever did propose, which he’d just informed her he wouldn’t, she couldn’t help indulging her curiosity.

      ‘What should I know about Lord Becconsall, then?’ she said in as meek a tone as she could muster. Whilst looking down at her fingers as they played with the struts of her fan.

      ‘Oh, so it is like that, is it?’ Aunt Susan smiled. ‘Well, in that case, we might still be able to repair the damage. I can drop a word in his ear,’ she said, patting her hand.

      ‘What? No! I mean, I’m sure that is very kind of you, Aunt, but—’

      But Aunt Susan had got the bit between her teeth.

      ‘Lord Becconsall has a very handsome fortune, my dear, and a couple of

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