Читать книгу Married By Christmas - Anne Herries, Anne Herries - Страница 10

Jo was thoughtful as she walked home after leaving the rooms where Ellen was lodging. They were respectable, though a little cramped, and were bound to be more so once the child was born. Ellen had put her individual stamp on them, her table covered in a pretty lace cloth, and her books and sewing on the table she used for her work. She had not apologised for her home, and Jo thought she was very brave to have accepted her circumstances the way she had, for she had clearly been used to better.

They had talked for a long time, and Ellen had told her about her parents’ home, which was a substantial house in Hampshire. Her father was the son of a wealthy merchant, and had been well educated, becoming even richer than his father had been.

‘He was determined that I should be properly brought up and I had a French governess,’ Ellen told her. ‘Father wanted me to be a lady—but when I wanted to marry Matt he was angry, because Lord Beverley would not accept me. He said that he was the equal of any aristocrat and that he would not allow me to marry the son of a bigot—and so we were forced to run away.’

‘Do you not think that your father would welcome you home?’

‘No, for we married at Gretna Green, and my father said that it was no true marriage. He said that I would be living in sin and that he wanted no more to do with me—and if he knew about the child he might demand that I give it up. He is a very religious man, Jo—and I think he would punish me for going against his wishes.’

‘I see…’ Jo felt sympathy for her. She realised how fortunate she had been in her parents, for Papa would never have behaved in such a fashion. He would have offered love and understanding, and forgiveness if it were necessary. ‘But what of your mama?’

‘Mama might forgive me,’ Ellen said, ‘but my father would not allow her to see me. I have wanted to write to her and tell her that I am well, but I am afraid that she might show him the letter.’

‘Surely she would not,’ Jo said. ‘Besides, you need not tell her that you are in Bath, Ellen. I am sure she worries about you, even if she dare not show it.’

‘Do you think so?’ Ellen looked wistful. ‘Perhaps I should write her a brief letter—as long as I do not tell her where I am, Father cannot come after me.’

‘It might be of comfort to her, and you,’ Jo said and on impulse kissed her cheek before leaving her to walk back to the house in Queen Square.

It was as she was nearing their lodgings that Jo saw a gentleman walking towards her. She could not mistake him, for he had immense presence and such an air of command.

‘We meet again,’ he said, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘This must be my fortunate day…’

Jo laughed—there was a distinct challenge in his eyes, and it made her feel ridiculously pleased with life. ‘I do not see why, sir, for I almost trod on your toes the last time.’

‘I would gladly suffer such torments a thousand times to have the pleasure of your company, sweet lady. I must call you that, for you have not yet given me your name.’

‘I think you are flirting with me, sir.’

‘Perhaps, a little.’ Hal grinned suddenly. ‘No, I should not tease you, but there is something about you that is most delightful to tease. However, I shall not delay you—I dare say you are supposed to be somewhere else.’

‘My aunt is waiting for me,’ Jo told him. She felt the desire to laugh as he looked at her so expectantly, and yet she did not give him her name. He was a wicked flirt and she would not be drawn by his teasing. ‘Excuse me, sir. Perhaps we shall meet again in company…’

He doffed his hat to her with a flourish, but made no attempt to prevent her going on. Jo smiled because he had lifted her spirits once more, lifting the slight cloud that had hung over her since she had learned of Ellen’s sad story.

As she entered the house, Jo saw that her aunt’s hat was on the sideboard in the hall and suddenly realised that it was past four. She had completely forgotten both the time, and, she realised guiltily, her aunt’s peppermint creams. All thought of them had flown as she talked to Ellen. She had not even visited the library, which she had particularly wanted to do.

‘Josephine!’ Lady Wainwright said coming out into the hall. ‘Where have you been all this time? I particularly asked you to be here for tea. Mrs Marsham brought her daughter, Chloe, to meet you, and she was most offended that you had not bothered to be here.’

‘I am sorry, Aunt,’ Jo said. ‘I met someone and stayed talking to her. She was a little unwell and I walked home with her. Forgive me.’

‘Who was this person? Respectable, I hope?’

‘Oh, yes, Aunt, very respectable,’ Jo said. ‘Mrs Ellen Beverley.’

‘I have not heard the name. One of the Hampshire family, I dare say. Well, you may introduce her to me and I shall decide if she is a fit person for my niece to know.’

‘Yes, Aunt, certainly,’ Jo said, though she had no intention of it. ‘We are bound to meet one day, I dare say.’

Lady Wainwright’s brow clouded, for she suspected something, though she did not know what. Her niece looked too innocent to be true! ‘Did you buy my peppermint creams?’

‘They did not have any fresh ones,’ Jo lied, crossing her fingers behind her back. She did not like lying to her aunt, but had decided it was best in the circumstances. ‘I may get them tomorrow—they should have some in by then.’

‘Very well,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘You had better go up and change, Josephine. We are going to the Assembly this evening, as you know. We shall meet Mrs Marsham and Chloe there. Now she is a very well-behaved young girl and exceptionally pretty. If she decides to take you up, you will move in her circles and may meet a gentleman of property. The Marshams are quite well to do, though they do not have a title—which is a pity because there is a son, I believe, of somewhere around your age. Though I dare say he is looking to marry a title to improve his chances.’

‘If he is my age, I imagine he will not look to marry for some years,’ Jo said. ‘Drew is several years older than Marianne—and Papa was five years older than Mama.’

Lady Wainwright sniffed. ‘Do not imagine that every woman marries for love, Josephine. Most make marriages of convenience, which is as it should be, for how else would they live? You must be prepared to accept something less than your sister. Marianne was very pretty—and her temper was good.’

‘And mine is not, of course,’ Jo said, for she could not deny that she was inclined to be hasty at times. ‘I am aware that I am not pretty, Aunt, but I do not mind. If I married, it would be to someone I liked and respected, because I agree with you that it is not always possible to find love.’

Her head high, Jo walked up the stairs and along the landing to her own room. Her aunt’s comments were hurtful, but she would not allow them to dampen her spirits. She had not been enjoying her visit until today, despite all the delights that Bath offered, but now she had a friend, and she was determined to meet Ellen as often as she could. Of her encounter with a rather bold gentleman, she would not allow herself to think for more than a minute or two. It had been amusing, of course, but she would probably never see him again.

‘May I introduce my niece, Miss Josephine Horne,’ Lady Wainwright said later that evening. ‘Josephine, make your curtsy to Mrs Marsham and Miss Chloe.’

Jo dipped respectfully to the older lady, who was dressed in a gown of dark green velvet and looked very handsome for her age. Her daughter, standing elegantly beside her, was stunningly beautiful, her hair a shining gold, her eyes deep blue and her mouth softly pink. She was dressed in white as most young girls were that evening, the skirt embroidered heavily with pearls and pink crystals, a pink ribbon holding her fan from her wrist, and a spray of pink roses in her hair, fastened by a pink velvet band. About her neck she wore a double strand of expensive pink pearls with a diamond clasp.

Jo was wearing white also, and her mother’s pearls. Her hair had been dressed back in a strict knot and she wore some white silk flowers in her hair. Had she known it, she made the perfect foil for Chloe’s pretty pink looks, her red hair escaping in little tendrils about her face. She was Chloe’s opposite: a wild gypsy, her expression a little mutinous whereas Chloe’s was demure, her eyes clouded with mystery whereas Chloe’s were open and innocent of guile.

‘I am sorry to have missed you this afternoon,’ Jo said. ‘I was not aware that we were to have guests for tea.’

‘Oh, it did not matter,’ Chloe said. ‘I am glad to meet you, Miss Horne, for it is nice to have lots of acquaintances, is it not?’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Jo answered. ‘This is our first visit to the Assembly. I have met only a few friends of Lady Wainwright thus far—and please call me Jo, if you will.’

‘Oh, yes, that is so much better,’ Chloe said. ‘Shall we walk about a little together, Jo? Now that you are here I need not stay with Mama all the time and I want to see what is going on.’

‘Yes, why not?’ Jo said and the two girls walked away from the older ladies, gazing about the room with interest. It was a very large room and had only just begun to fill up. At one end there was another door, which led into what Chloe told her was the refreshment room, and another after that where ladies might go to refresh themselves. A small curving stairway led up to a second floor and there were seats and small tables set out so that chaperons and those who had come merely to greet friends and observe might do so in comfort. ‘Have you been here before?’

‘Oh, no,’ Chloe said. ‘I have been sort of out for a few months, for I attended some private balls at the homes of neighbours and friends, and my own ball will take place when I am eighteen next month. How old are you, Jo?’

‘I was eighteen this spring,’ Jo told her. ‘Do you have any sisters, Chloe?’

‘No, only a brother, who is a year older,’ Chloe replied with a sigh. ‘I have always thought it would be nice to have a sister—do you have one?’

‘I have two,’ Jo said. ‘Marianne is nineteen and was married only a week or so ago, and my sister Lucy is not old enough to come out yet.’

‘Oh, yes, I believe Lady Wainwright told Mama that your elder sister had married the Marquis of Marlbeck.’ Chloe turned her wide eyes on Jo. ‘How fortunate she was to make such a good match. I hope that I shall be as fortunate, though I am not sure…’ She frowned. ‘I have met someone I like, but I am not sure that he likes me. He is four and twenty, and I think he may not wish to be married just yet.’ She sighed and pulled a wry face. ‘Mama says there is plenty of time, for she intends to take me to London next spring for a season, but…’ She shook her head. ‘I should so like to fall in love, should you not, Jo?’

‘I am not sure what being in love is,’ Jo said truthfully. ‘I love my family, of course—but to be in love with a gentleman would be something quite different, I imagine.’

‘I think it is the most wonderful—’ Chloe caught her breath, and suddenly her face lit up with excitement. ‘Oh, he is here.’

Jo’s gaze followed the direction of her new friend’s. She could not see who Chloe was looking at for a moment, and then she saw a gentleman who had apparently just entered the ballroom. He was perhaps a little under six feet in height, of slim build with dark brown hair, and as he turned to look in their direction, Jo realised that she had seen him before. He was the gentleman who had come to her aid in the inn yard and then, only that morning, asked if he might buy the singing bird for Lucy! Mr Hal Beverley!

‘He has seen me,’ Chloe said and smiled. ‘He is coming this way.’

Jo said nothing. She watched the gentleman make his way towards them, and her pulses raced, but at the last moment, her attention was turned to a young man who addressed her from her right.

‘Miss Horne,’ he said as she turned towards him. ‘You may recall that we met at the Pump Room when you accompanied your aunt there two days ago?’

Jo turned her gaze upon him, struggling to recall his name. Her aunt had introduced them, but she had not been paying much attention, which was very rude of her. He was perfectly polite and quite respectable, though his sandy hair and pale eyelashes were not particularly attractive.

‘Good evening, sir,’ she said. ‘How nice to meet you again.’

‘Will you dance, Miss Horne?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Jo said, accepting his hand as she struggled to remember his name. ‘Mr…Tanner.’ She felt relieved as it came back to her. He was the nephew of one of her aunt’s oldest friends, she recalled, and one of the few younger gentlemen of her aunt’s acquaintance. ‘How kind of you…’

Jo saw from the corner of her eye that Chloe was now dancing with Hal Beverley. She was smiling up at him, and he seemed to be responding in an equally pleased manner. Jo did know why that made her feel a little envious, for they made a handsome couple and were clearly good friends.

Jo’s dance with Mr Tanner was enjoyable, for though he was not the best of partners he did not tread on her toes. She thanked him when it was over and rejoined her aunt, who had moved on to another of her acquaintance. Jo was not asked for the next dance and stood with her aunt watching the more fortunate girls who had partners. Her toe tapped in time to the music, but she was content enough for the moment, and did not expect that she would dance every dance. After all, there were so many pretty girls for the gentlemen to choose from. However, just as the third dance was about to begin she heard her name spoken and turned to find herself looking at Chloe and the gentleman she had been dancing with earlier.

‘This is Mr Hal Beverley,’ Chloe said. ‘He says that he does not know anyone else here this evening, and as he cannot dance with me all the time, I suggested that he dance with you, Jo.’

‘Miss Horne,’ Hal said and grinned as she made him a little curtsy, a hint of mischief in her face. ‘Will you take pity on me for this dance? I find myself a stranger here, apart from Chloe and Mrs Marsham.’

‘Oh…’ Unaccountably, Jo’s heart fluttered. ‘Yes, of course. How kind of you, sir.’ She gave him her hand, allowing him to lead her out on to the floor. Chloe was following with another partner—a rather dashing young man in a scarlet uniform.

‘I do not think it particularly kind,’ Hal said, his eyes quizzing her. ‘It is odd that I should know so few of the company here this evening—but I believe that at this time of year mothers bring their youngest daughters for a taste of social life, before they have their first Season in town.’

Looking up at him, Jo surprised laughter in his eyes. ‘You are perhaps used to more sophisticated company in London, sir? I dare say the company in Bath is a little slow for your taste.’

‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, but his bold look mocked her. ‘I was fortunate that Chloe had a friend or I should have had to sit this dance out.’

‘Oh, I think you might have found someone willing to introduce you to some of the other young ladies, sir.’

‘Yes, but I am not sure that I wish to dance with any of the other young ladies here, Miss Horne.’ He was giving her one of his wicked smiles again!

Jo hid her amusement and gave him a straight look. ‘I cannot think why, for there are some very pretty girls here tonight.’

‘Indeed, you are right. I would not doubt it for a moment.’

‘Then why—?’ She shook her head, her eyes sparkling. ‘No, do not answer, for I am sure I should not have asked.’

Hal chuckled. ‘I see no reason why not,’ he said. ‘I do not know why it should be, but I find that very young ladies either talk endlessly about nothing of consequence or say nothing at all—and I am not sure which is more tedious.’

‘Pray tell me which category I belong to,’ Jo said, her chin up. ‘Then I may amend my behaviour.’

‘Oh, I do not think that you belong to either,’ Hal told her, a teasing glint in his eye. ‘Indeed, my experience tells me that it cannot be so, for we are already acquainted, are we not?’

‘You mean because I almost trod on your toes earlier today? Or perhaps because you came to my rescue at the inn?’ She was deliberately provoking. ‘And, of course, we met again this afternoon…’

‘Yes, so we did,’ he agreed, matching her for wickedness. ‘Who knows, Miss Horne, we may be destined to meet wherever we go, like ghostly spirits passing in the night. Are you truly Miss Josephine Horne or but an apparition, a sprite sent here to tempt men to destruction? I believe it is the latter, for you have a touch of mystery that intrigues me.’

‘I think you are a terrible flirt, sir, and talk a great deal of nonsense!’ Jo could hardly keep from laughing.

‘Indeed, my father would agree with you,’ Hal replied, mock solemn. ‘But it seems that we are destined to meet for another reason—but not one that we ought to discuss this evening.’

Jo was puzzled. ‘I am afraid that I do not understand you, sir.’

‘Why should you?’ He smiled enigmatically as their dance came to an end. ‘Alas, I cannot say more this evening. I must thank you for the pleasure of your company. I should take you back to your friends, and then I must leave.’

‘Are you leaving so soon?’ She felt a pang of disappointment, for he had brought a touch of magic to the evening that had been lacking before his arrival.

‘I have another appointment,’ Hal said, his mouth quirking irreverently. ‘But I hope that we shall meet again soon, Miss Horne…if you are Miss Horne, and not a siren sent to lure my ship to the rocks.’

Jo inclined her head, but made no comment as he led her back to where her aunt was standing with Mrs Marsham and two other ladies. She thanked him, watching thoughtfully as he walked from the room.

Chloe came back to join them. ‘Has Mr Beverley gone already?’ she said looking disappointed. ‘We danced the first two dances, but I had hoped we might dance again later.’

‘I believe he had another appointment,’ Jo said. ‘But he must have come simply to dance with you, Chloe.’

‘Oh…’ Chloe blushed and looked pleased. ‘Yes, perhaps he did.’

Jo understood that she had hopes of Mr Beverley asking her to marry him. She knew nothing about him other than that he seemed to have an irreverent sense of humour, which she liked, and was extremely attractive. She supposed he must come from a good family, though she did not like to ask.

It had crossed her mind that he might be in some way related to Ellen’s late husband, but naturally she had not asked him. He might consider it impertinent, and, besides, she knew that Ellen did not wish it to be known that she was at present residing in Bath. However, she would ask Ellen when she next saw her if Mr Hal Beverley was in anyway related, for it seemed to her that if it were so he might do something to help her.

Lady Wainwright had decided that bathing had done her a great deal of good and she graciously told Jo that she might leave her after they had reached the Baths and go to the library or visit friends.

‘But on no account are you to be late for tea, Jo. I shall be most displeased if you let me down again. I cannot help you to make friends if you behave in such a shockingly careless manner.’

‘I know that it was very bad of me,’ Jo admitted. ‘I promise I shall not be late again.’

After leaving her aunt, she went first to the little teashop and bought some peppermint creams, which were packed in a pretty little box and tied with ribbon. Jo visited the library next and took out two books, one a novel and one on embroidery that she thought Ellen might like to see. She had also bought a smaller box of violet creams as a little gift for her friend, and was feeling pleased with herself as she made her way to Mrs Beverley’s lodgings.

As she reached the top of the slope leading to the house, a gentleman came out of Ellen’s house and turned away in the opposite direction. Jo stood watching him for a moment. She could not be sure, but thought it might have been Mr Hal Beverley. Perhaps he had discovered that Ellen was in Bath for himself.

Ellen answered the doorbell almost at once. Jo could tell from the look on her face that something momentous had happened, and she was pleased for her friend.

‘Oh, I am so glad you have called,’ Ellen told her. ‘I have some news to tell you.’

‘Exciting news?’

‘Yes, I think so. I have just received a visit from my husband’s brother Hal. He served in Spain at the same time as Matt, at least for a few months, and we knew each other. He says that he has been looking for me and wants to help me.’

‘Oh, Ellen, that is good news,’ Jo said. ‘Did you not think of asking him for help before this?’

‘No, for why should he take on the burden of my expenses?’ Ellen said. ‘I dare say I might have approached Lord Beverley if he had not been so set against the marriage, but Hal has his own expenses. I told him that I should be grateful for his help in practical ways, but for the moment I have sufficient funds to pay my way.’

‘And what did he say to that?’ Jo frowned, for in her opinion Mr Beverley should have ignored Ellen’s scruples and given her a handsome present so that she had no need to work so hard.

‘He said that I was to think of him as a friend and as my husband’s brother. He was angry that his father had done nothing for me, and indeed, he says that he regrets it, but we must keep our meetings a secret for the moment, because Lord Beverley might be angry or upset by them. I believe his father might disown him as he did Matt, and it is very brave of Hal to risk so much for my sake.’

‘Lord Beverley sounds disagreeable,’ Jo said and pulled a face. ‘I think it was very unfair of him to disown his son—and to treat you so harshly.’

‘Hal was angry about it, but says that his father has been unwell for some months and because of that he does not wish to quarrel with him. He has independent means and does not care so much for the estate—but he does care for his father.’

‘Yes, I see,’ Jo said and looked thoughtful. ‘I do not like Aunt Wainwright very much, but I must admit that I should not want to see her ill—and I should be distressed if I were the cause of that illness.’

‘I understand his feelings completely,’ Ellen said. ‘Matt always hoped that he might settle his differences with his father one day. Hal is very good to search for me, and I should turn to him if I needed help, but I prefer not to accept charity unless I need it. I shall continue to use my married name to which I am entitled, but I shall not mention the connection to Lord Beverley—and the name is otherwise common enough.’ She smiled at Jo. ‘Have you come to take your nuncheon with me?’

‘I must not be late for tea this afternoon. My aunt scolded me yesterday. I do not mind that—but she is paying for my visit here and she bought me some very nice clothes, so I must not disoblige her.’

‘Well, we shall eat a light nuncheon and then you may leave,’ Ellen said. ‘I want you to look at some embroidery I am doing for a client. She saw some of my work at a fashionable shop in town and asked for me to work on her ballgown. She will be eighteen next month and is to have a special dance, I am told.’

Jo looked at a panel of exquisite embroidery that Ellen was working on, feeling amazed at both the beauty and intricacy of the design and the skilled workmanship.

‘Oh, this is wonderful,’ she said. ‘You are so clever, Ellen. Who taught you to do something like this?’

‘I am self-taught,’ Ellen said looking pleased. ‘My governess taught me the rudiments of the art, of course, and I begged my father to buy me books about it. He was pleased to do it, for he thought embroidery a ladylike occupation. He would not be so pleased if he knew that I was using my skill to earn my living.’

‘It is such a shame that you are estranged from your family,’ Jo said. ‘Did you make up your mind to write to your mama?’

‘Yes, I have written her a few lines,’ Ellen confirmed. ‘Just to tell her that my husband is dead and that I am with child and quite well. I gave her no forwarding address—and I intend to send my letter today.’

‘I am sure she will be relieved to have it,’ Jo said and smiled at her. ‘I took out a book for you from the library, but I think you are too advanced for it. I shall take it home and study it myself. I am ashamed to say that I could not produce anything even half as fine as this panel.’

Ellen laughed softly. ‘I studied for years, Jo. I was not particularly happy at home, for my father is a cold man, and Mama is afraid to displease him. When Matt came into my life it changed so much…I can never regret what I did, even though I lost him too soon.’

‘I am glad that you were so happy,’ Jo said. ‘I have never been sure that real love existed—not the very romantic kind that you read about in books—but Marianne fell in love with her marquis, and you obviously loved your husband very much.’

‘Yes, I did,’ Ellen said. ‘You may think my story tragic, but I would rather have had a year with Matt than a score of years with a man I did not love.’

Jo nodded and looked thoughtful. She was beginning to think that perhaps true love really did happen to the fortunate few.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ Aunt Wainwright said and gave Jo a nod of approval as she walked into the parlour at half-past two that afternoon. ‘I am glad you are back. You must go up and change, put on one of your prettiest gowns and tidy that hair.’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ Jo said and placed the small box of peppermint creams on the table beside her. ‘I have been assured that they are very fresh.’

‘But to buy them in a box like that,’ her aunt said and frowned. ‘So extravagant! A paper twist would have been adequate.’

‘I bought them as a gift for you, to thank you for your generosity towards me,’ Jo said, giving her a straight look. ‘I shall go up and change now.’

‘Do not be long. We have a visitor I particularly want you to meet, Jo.’

Jo nodded, but made no reply. She noticed her aunt staring rather oddly at the box of sweets as she left the room.

As she changed out of her walking dress into a silk afternoon gown in a pale green colour, the skirt flounced but otherwise quite plain apart from a sash of darker green, Jo was thinking about what Ellen had told her concerning Hal Beverley. It seemed that he was an exceedingly generous man—as indeed she had known before, for she believed that his offer to buy her sister the singing bird had been made genuinely and with no thought of reward.

She thought that of late her wicked earl had stepped out of character, and was becoming a true gentleman, for she could no longer write of him as she had in the past, and must think of a way to redeem him in her novel.

The idea of changing her story so radically entertained her thoughts until she went downstairs. She heard voices coming from her aunt’s drawing room and her heart beat rapidly for a moment, wondering if the caller might be Mr Beverley, but as she entered she discovered that their visitor was unknown to her.

‘Ah, Jo, my dear, how delightful you look,’ Aunt Wainwright said. ‘You must come and meet the Reverend Mr Thomas Browne. Sir, this is my niece, Miss Josephine Horne, of whom I have already told you.’

‘Mr Browne,’ Jo said, coming forward. She held out her hand to him and smiled, for she was prepared to be welcoming to anyone who followed her papa’s calling. ‘I am very pleased to meet you, sir.’

‘And I you, Miss Horne. I am a little acquainted with Lady Wainwright, and when I spoke to her of my difficulty, she was kind enough to say that she thought you might be willing to help.’

‘If it is possible,’ Jo replied. ‘But I am not acquainted with your difficulty, sir—in what way would you like me to help you?’

‘Oh, I thought…but no matter. I am holding various fundraising events this coming week, and I need a helper. The lady who was to have performed certain little tasks—helping to make banners, write notices, and assisting with a bring-and-buy stall at the church hall—is unwell and finds herself unable to help as she usually does.’

‘Oh, yes, of course I shall be pleased to help you, Mr Browne—if my aunt permits. I must not neglect her, but otherwise I should enjoy being of assistance to you.’

‘I have said that you may go in the mornings,’ Lady Wainwright told her. ‘You know that I have taken up bathing for the sake of my health. I shall not need you until teatime, Jo. You may wish to visit other friends, of course, but I am sure you can spare two or three mornings this coming week.’

‘Yes, certainly,’ Jo said. She was very accustomed to such tasks and willing to be of service. ‘I shall enjoy it, though on Tuesday mornings I have the debating society, and on Thursdays I visit a friend, as I have today.’

‘What friend is that?’ Lady Wainwright asked. ‘I know it was not Chloe—she was at the Pump Room with her mama and inquired after you.’

‘Mrs Ellen Beverley, Aunt. I told you. She is a widow and I went to her aid her when she was unwell. We have become friends.’ Jo knew that if she told her aunt that Ellen was related by marriage to Lord Beverley her attitude would change completely, but her friend was determined not to trade on her husband’s family and Jo must keep that part of her identity a secret until she was given permission to reveal it.

‘Well, as long as you do not spend all your time with her. We are promised to Mrs Marsham and Chloe this evening. You have not forgotten?’

‘They are holding a card party,’ Jo said. ‘I had not forgotten, Aunt.’

‘Tomorrow is Friday,’ the Reverend Browne said. ‘Perhaps you would come to the church hall at ten—if that is not too early for you?’

‘No, that will do very well,’ Jo said and smiled. She could leave after two or three hours and perhaps call to see Ellen on her way home. ‘I shall enjoy helping you, sir. Please tell me something of your good causes—are they here in Bath or elsewhere?’

‘I have several causes I feel worthy of my attention,’ he replied, giving her a look of approval, for not all young ladies would wish to spend their time helping the poor when they might be enjoying the delights of Bath. ‘I support a home for orphaned children in Bath itself, and similar ones in London—but I also send money to overseas missions, Miss Horne. We must do what we can to educate the heathen and alleviate their ignorance.’

‘And their poverty, I hope, sir? Papa told me that the people live in terrible circumstances in some countries, perhaps even worse than in the slums here.’

‘Ah, yes, I believe your father was also a man of the church, Miss Horne?’

‘Papa was a wonderful man,’ Jo said, her eyes lighting up. ‘He taught all of us that it is our duty to be charitable and caring towards others—and he said that we must see it as a privilege to help them. I am proud to be his daughter.’

‘Ah, yes, a worthy sentiment,’ the Reverend Browne said and beamed with pleasure. ‘I have seldom met a young woman who thinks as deeply as you have on these matters, Miss Horne. It is a delight to have made your acquaintance.’

‘Oh, do not praise me too highly, sir,’ Jo said. ‘I enjoy helping with these things, and therefore it cannot be held a duty.’

If anything, the Reverend looked more approving. However, he abandoned the subject in favour of others, speaking with some intelligence about the political situation, which was quite troublesome for it seemed certain that there must be yet another war with the French. After thirty minutes he took his leave, touching Jo’s hand for a moment as she escorted him to the door and thanking her once again for her promise of help.

‘I am only too glad to be of help,’ Jo said and meant it sincerely, for she liked doing the kind of task that he had asked of her and had often assisted her papa in much the same way. ‘Thank you for calling, sir.’

Jo returned to the drawing room, where her aunt gave her what could only be a look of respect.

‘That was very well done,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘You showed yourself to be just the sort of gel that a man in his position would wish to know. I am sure that he liked you. If you continue in this way I believe he may make you an offer, for I have it on good authority that he is looking for a wife. It would be just the thing for you, Josephine—and you could hardly expect to look higher. I believe he has a small allowance from his family as well as his stipend, which means he can afford to marry.’

Jo stared at her in disbelief, for her aunt seemed to think that it was a perfect match. ‘I hardly know Mr Browne, Aunt. He seems pleasant enough and speaks well of many things, but I am not certain we should suit one another. Indeed, I do not yet know if I wish to marry anyone.’

‘That is ridiculous! Every gel must marry. It is expected and the only possible future—unless you wish to remain at home for ever?’

‘I should like to be sure that I could be happy in my life, and I do not think that the kind of marriage you envisage would bring me happiness, Aunt. I think that I might find his company tedious if I were obliged to live with him.’

‘How can you possibly know that?’ her aunt demanded, the familiar look of annoyance returning to her face. ‘You said yourself that you do not know him.’

Jo realised her mistake. She could not possibly tell her aunt that she would never marry the Reverend Browne, even if it meant that she remained single all her life. Lady Wainwright would simply become angry, and it made life so uncomfortable. For once it might be better to brush over it as easily as she could. After all, she did not dislike Mr Browne, and he was just the kind of man she had once thought her sister Marianne might have married.

‘Yes, as you say, Aunt. I cannot know. We have hardly met and one should be certain about these things, for to marry in a rush would be both unseemly and perhaps foolish—do you not think so?’

Her aunt looked at her suspiciously, for the answer was too measured to be Jo’s true sentiments, unless she had changed her ways overnight.

‘Do not imagine you can fool me, Josephine. I am merely pointing out a possible chance to you, and one that you would be well advised to consider. You will not get a second chance for a visit like this, and you may grow bored with being at home. Most women prefer their own home—and children. I know that you like children, Jo. How can you content yourself to think that you might never hold your own child in your arms?’

‘But what of liking and respect, Aunt? You notice that I do not speak of love, for I am not sure it exists, though Marianne was certainly in love. But one should at least like the man one marries—do you not agree?’

‘Yes, of course, and I should never dream of suggesting that you marry a man who was not worthy of your consideration—but I believe Mr Browne is a man that many girls would be glad to marry. Especially those who have no fortune.’

‘I expect you are right, Aunt. Would you excuse me now, please? I think that perhaps I should change for the evening.’

Jo went upstairs to her own room. After she had finished dressing, she sat down at her dressing table and looked at her hair. If only it was a pretty honey blonde like Marianne’s and straighter!

Picking up her brush, she tugged at the tangled curls, pulling them back and securing the knot at the back of her head with pins, into which she pinned a spray of silk flowers. Tendrils of flame-coloured hair had escaped to curl attractively about her face. She sighed, because she knew that nothing she could do would tame it completely.

What did it matter? Jo fastened her mother’s pearls about her throat and applied a dab of cologne to her wrists and behind her ears; the perfume smelled faintly of violets, a very soft delicate scent. Satisfied that she could do no better with her appearance, she went downstairs to wait for her aunt in the parlour. It was a chance to read for a few minutes, which was a treat, because Lady Wainwright did not like to see her with her nose in a book too often. She was just becoming engrossed in the story when she heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see that her aunt had arrived.

‘Reading again?’ Lady Wainwright looked annoyed. ‘I hope you haven’t spoiled your gown sitting there. I do hate to see girls in creased gowns when they arrive for the evening. You should have walked about the room until I came down.’

‘I do not think that sitting here has harmed my dress, Aunt.’

‘Well, you are fortunate if it has not. Are you ready? It is already past six and we are engaged for half-past.’ She looked about her and made a sound of annoyance. ‘I have left my fan. Please go upstairs and fetch it for me. It lies on my bed.’

‘Yes, Aunt.’ She ran upstairs, and found the fan on the dressing chest after some few seconds of searching. Her aunt gave her a hard look when she came back down, but said nothing, taking the fan without a word of thanks.

They went out to the carriage, neither of them speaking to the other during the short ride, Jo because she did not have anything in particular to say, and Lady Wainwright because she was annoyed about something. Jo wasn’t sure whether she had caused her aunt’s mood or whether it was to do with something quite different, but it was clear to her that the best course of action was to remain silent.

Mrs Marsham had taken one of the larger houses in Bath, but her rooms were already overflowing with guests when they arrived. Jo was surprised for she had expected a small card party, but she soon discovered that cards were to be only a part of the evening’s entertainment. A quartet was playing music as they entered, and Chloe told her that one of the drawing rooms had been cleared so that the younger people could dance.

‘There is room for no more than ten couples,’ Chloe said, her eyes glowing. ‘But the older ladies do not dance and will content themselves playing cards or simply listening to the music.’

‘I am not sure that I am dressed for dancing,’ Jo said, because she was wearing a very simple evening gown. ‘I did not expect it.’

‘Oh, but you look very nice,’ Chloe said. ‘You always do—though I think it is a shame that you scrape your hair back so tightly. Do you never think of wearing it in a softer style?’

‘Never! I should look like a gypsy,’ Jo said and Chloe went into a fit of the giggles.

‘Oh, you do say such droll things, Jo!’ she cried. ‘A gypsy, indeed. Mama would have a fit if I were to say such a thing.’

‘But you always look so elegant,’ Jo said and Chloe gave a pleased nod of her head.

Chloe had only waited for Jo to arrive. Her mother had released her almost at once, and the two girls went into the long room together. Jo saw that several young men she had met at the Assembly rooms were present, including Mr Tanner, and it was not long before both girls were dancing. Surprisingly, Jo found that she was sought after almost as eagerly as Chloe, and she did not sit out one dance, which might have been because Mrs Marsham had cleverly invited more gentlemen than young ladies.

It was not until an hour later that Jo felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find herself looking at Mr Hal Beverley. She had not noticed him come in, because she had been enjoying herself, and her eyes were bright with laughter.

‘Good evening, Mr Beverley,’ she said. ‘Chloe did not tell me that she expected you this evening.’

‘Did she not, Miss Horne?’ Hal’s brows rose. ‘Now why should that be, I wonder? For it must be an object of great public interest if I am to attend a card party, must it not? Indeed, had I thought, I should have had a blast of horns announce me.’

‘You are a wicked tease, sir,’ Jo said. ‘You knew very well what I meant.’

‘Did I?’ His eyes gleamed with unholy amusement. ‘Pray give me the pleasure of this next dance, Miss Horne—unless it is promised to another?’

‘No, it is not,’ Jo replied. She had planned to slip away to find herself a cooling drink, but could not give up the opportunity to dance with him. ‘Oh, listen, I believe this is a waltz.’

‘Yes, so I believe,’ Harry said and gave her his hand. ‘I trust you are a lady of your word, Miss Horne? You will not refuse?’ His eyes quizzed her. ‘Perhaps you are but an illusion and will disappear in a puff of smoke rather than waltz with me.’

‘I…No, of course not,’ Jo said. She was a little unsure, because the waltz was not yet thoroughly approved of everywhere, though she had heard that it was no longer frowned on at most venues and was certainly allowed at private parties. ‘Yes, Mr Beverley, I should love to dance the waltz with you.’

Her heart fluttered as he placed his hand at the small of her waist, and she looked up at him, her eyes widening as she saw the challenge in his eyes.

‘Why do you look at me that way, sir?’

‘Because I am waiting,’ Hal said. ‘Most young ladies would have come out with it at once, but then, as I have observed before, you are different from most young ladies of my acquaintance.’

‘Are you speaking of Ellen?’ Jo asked.

Oh, he danced divinely! She had not realised that a waltz could be this much pleasure. She felt as if she were floating on air, the music filling her soul as she followed his lead effortlessly, their steps perfectly in tune.

‘Ellen informs me that you have become her friend.’

‘I believe we are friends,’ Jo replied. ‘She tells me that you have been kind enough to offer her help should she need it.’

‘I would do more if she would permit it.’

‘Yes, I know…’ Jo smiled. At this moment she felt as if she were filled to the brim with content and happiness. ‘Ellen is proud and does not wish for assistance. But she works very hard, and I am not sure it is good for her in her condition.’

‘No, I am very sure you are right. I shall do what I can for her.’

‘She would not accept anything she saw as charity.’

‘It would not be charity. She and my brother’s child are entitled to a decent life, and I wish that she would allow me to help her with her expenses.’

‘I think you must be clever in how you offer help.’

‘Yes, I am sure you are right. I must think of something, for at the moment she will not let me help her.’

The music was coming to an end. Jo found herself wishing that it might go on for much longer, but she knew that she must be satisfied with the one dance, for it was unlikely that he would ask her again.

‘Perhaps she will when she needs you,’ Jo said, as the other dancers began to leave the floor. ‘I believe it may be time for supper, sir. Yes, I see that everyone is making a move in that direction.’

‘Are you hungry?’ Hal asked, and Jo shook her head. ‘Come out into the conservatory for a moment or two. I should like to speak to you further on this matter.’

‘I…’ Jo was about to say that she was not sure if she ought to do that when she saw Chloe coming towards them. ‘Perhaps another time. I may call on Ellen at something after noon tomorrow.’

‘Oh, there you are, Jo,’ Chloe said, but her eyes were on Hal. ‘Are you coming into supper with me?’

‘Yes, I was just about to,’ Jo said, and looked at Hal. ‘Shall you join us, sir?’

‘Yes, of course, why not?’ he replied. ‘It shall be my pleasure to look after both of you. The two prettiest girls here this evening—what a damned lucky fellow I am!’

Jo smiled and shook her head, but Chloe had slipped her arm through his. She knew that his compliment was for Chloe, but he was being gallant, of which she approved. It was due to Chloe’s efforts on Jo’s behalf that she had not sat out one dance that evening. All the young gentlemen were happy to oblige Chloe. If a small voice told her that she had only chosen Jo as her special friend because she did not wish for competition, she ignored it.

‘You are a determined flirt, Mr Beverley,’ Chloe told him, eyes sparkling. ‘I do not think you deserve us, but you may fetch our supper to prove that you were not merely mocking us.’

‘How could you think such a thing of me?’ Hal replied and turned to look at Jo with an expression of innocent appeal. ‘Miss Horne knows that I mean everything I say—do you not? Please support me against this tyrant, Miss Horne.’

Jo merely smiled and shook her head, for it was obvious that they were comfortable together, and she would not be surprised if they were to make a match of it. She was almost certain it was in Chloe’s mind to accept him if he made an offer—but would he? Jo had no way of guessing what was in his mind. He was a charming companion, and she liked him, but she did not know him well enough to have formed an opinion of his character.

If Jo’s thoughts were in some confusion, it was as well that she could not know or even guess at what Hal was thinking. She would doubtless have been shocked to know that his thoughts were in turmoil, and his plans for the future had been turned upside down.

Hal’s mind had been more or less made up before he came down to Bath. He would find Ellen, set her up in a decent house with enough money to allow her to live in comfort, if not luxury, and then ask Chloe Marsham to marry him. He had hoped that when his brother’s child was born, Lord Beverley would accept his grandchild and then perhaps Ellen would be given the attention and consequence she deserved. His plan had gone sadly wrong, for Ellen had stubbornly refused his help with her finances, and he was no longer sure that he wished to marry Chloe.

He was not precisely sure why he had changed his mind—or, indeed, if he had changed his mind. Chloe was very lovely and she was a nice girl, just the sort of wife his father would approve. Harry had previously decided that she was the one he would feel most comfortable with of all the suitable young ladies he had met since his return from the army, but now he was wavering, and he was not certain why.

It could not possibly be anything to do with Chloe’s friend…could it? Hal wrinkled his brow as he discarded his cravat. The hour was late, but he was not in the least tired. In London he would probably have gone on to his club from the Marshams’ card party, but although he was acquainted with most of the gentlemen staying in Bath at present, none of them was his particular friend.

He thought about his old friend, Drew Marlbeck, feeling regretful that he had not answered his recent call to help capture the traitor who had betrayed so many of their friends in Spain. At that time he had been following a lead that had taken him to Amsterdam and which had turned out to be completely wrong. He had visited Drew in Truro before leaving, and on his return from abroad sent him and his new wife a wedding gift, though he had not gone down to the wedding, because his father had had one of his turns just as he was about to leave. By the time he had recovered, the Marquis and Marchioness had departed on their honeymoon.

He wondered if Drew ever thought about the old times. There had been a special companionship between the men out there…a bond that only shared grief and the knowledge that death hovered at one’s shoulder could forge. Hal sighed. There was little point in repining, for he had made his decision when he sold out. Lord Beverley’s health was uncertain, which was why Hal was doing his best to keep his quest for Ellen a secret. He knew that his father felt that Matt had let him down, and he had wanted to make things right by marrying well and giving his father an heir. It was his duty to do just that, but somehow it wasn’t proving as easy as he had imagined.

Why? Hal was damned if he knew. It could not be because of Miss Horne, could it? She had remarkable eyes and he liked her straight way of talking, but she wasn’t beautiful…at least in the conventional sense, though there was something about her. Hal sat in a high-backed chair by the window and looked out at the night sky, which was sprinkled with stars. Josephine Horne was a respectable girl with good connections, but he sensed instinctively that she would not be his father’s choice of a bride. Lord Beverley expected him to marry an heiress of good family and would take some persuading if he were to suggest a match with the daughter of a parson.

Did he wish it himself? Damn it, what on earth was he thinking? Hal smiled ruefully. He hardly knew the girl whereas he had known Chloe slightly for some years, because her parents were cousins to their nearest neighbours at Beverley, and, although not close friends, at least on nodding terms with his father. He had not taken much notice of her as a child, but they had met a few times at small gatherings since his return from the army, and he did like her. He believed Chloe would be a comfortable wife, and she was certainly beautiful—so why had he dragged his feet? He believed that she would accept an offer from him, and if he were able to tell his father the good news, he might also be able to break it to him that Ellen was having Matt’s child.

It was the sensible thing to do. He knew that he owed his father the surety of a grandchild, and he must not delay his decision for too long, because Chloe was an heiress and would probably receive an offer very soon. She might decide to wait until after her Season next spring, of course—but her mother would possibly agree to an engagement and a wedding next summer.

‘Damnation!’ Hal knew that he would never sleep a wink with this on his mind. He needed a drink…

Jo spent a very happy morning helping out at the church hall the next day. She had found several companions of like minds, young women who found pleasure in helping others, and in the friendship that could be found at such affairs. They painted banners to hang at the sale and wrote out neat price tickets, sorted through piles of unwanted items that people had given and helped to set up stalls ready for the bazaar the following weekend.

‘Would you be kind enough to help at the sale itself, Miss Horne?’ Mrs Henderson asked. She was a young matron of perhaps five and twenty, with two small children, who were at home with their nursemaid. ‘We need someone to serve at the stall selling cakes and homemade sweetmeats.’

‘Yes, of course, providing my aunt can spare me that day,’ Jo said. ‘What hours would you need me?’

‘Oh, from just before noon until perhaps five,’ the woman said. ‘I shall be working on it myself, but we are usually very busy.’

‘Then I shall ask my aunt and let you know next time I come—which will be on Monday, I think?’

‘Yes, we are to meet here again on Monday,’ Mrs Henderson replied with a smile. ‘I dare say your aunt may spare you for once, my dear.’

Jo said that she hoped so and took her leave. She walked swiftly in the direction of Ellen’s lodgings, not bothering to linger over shop windows. However, as she neared the end of the street, she saw Hal Beverley coming towards her. He smiled as he saw her, lifting his smart beaver hat and smiling as they met.

‘Good morning, Miss Horne. I trust you are well?’

‘Yes, sir, thank you.’ Jo’s heartbeat quickened, because his quizzing smile was so appealing. She thought that, of all the gentlemen she had met in Bath, he was the one she liked best. He was undoubtedly a tease and a flirt, and it would be foolish to take him seriously, but she liked him very well.

‘It is a beautiful day, is it not, Miss Horne?’

‘Yes, though the wind may be a little chilly.’

‘What does a chill wind matter in the company of an enchanting young lady?’

‘Sir, I think you like to tease for devilment.’

‘Indeed, I do, Miss Horne—but only when the company is this charming.’

‘You are wicked, sir!’

‘You are right to chastise me. It is a fault.’ His eyes were warm with amusement. ‘Are you not shopping today?’

‘I am on my way to visit a friend. Perhaps the same one as you have been visiting?’

‘Indeed? Yes, it may be if you speak of Ellen. I called to see her for a few minutes and she said she hoped to see you later. I must not delay you, for I know she looks forward to your visit. Perhaps we shall meet again this evening?’

‘Yes, perhaps.’ Jo smiled, her heart beating rapidly as she walked on. She hoped that she would see him again soon, for he was a very pleasant young man. Arriving at Ellen’s lodgings, she rang the bell firmly, waiting until her friend answered the door and invited her in.

‘I was wondering whether you might come,’ Ellen said, looking pleased. ‘I hoped you might, because I wanted to tell you that I have sent the letter to my mother. Just to let her know that I am well.’

‘I am sure that is all she needs to know,’ Jo said. She considered Ellen, who was not as pale as she had been the first time they met. ‘Are you feeling better now?’

‘Oh, yes, I keep quite well most of the time,’ Ellen said and placed a hand on her bump, smiling contentedly. ‘It is a comfort to know that I have at least two friends now. Hal was here a few minutes ago.’

‘Yes, I met him on my way here. It must be better, knowing that your husband’s brother is there if you need him.’ Jo followed her into the small but comfortable parlour. Ellen had been working at her embroidery and a panel of blue silk lay on the sofa. She moved it to one side and sat down.

‘Hal was always a little wild when we were in Spain,’ Ellen said and laughed softly. ‘Matt used to say he was the maddest prankster of them all—but they were good friends, and I am grateful that he took the trouble to look for me. He has even been as far as Amsterdam in his search, though I was never there, of course. It is odd how these tales get about, is it not?’

‘Mr Beverley seems very pleasant,’ Jo said thoughtfully. ‘We met last evening at a friend’s house, and he asked me to dance a waltz with him. He dances very well.’

‘Oh, yes, all Old Hooky’s favourite officers did,’ Ellen said with a wistful expression in her eyes. ‘They were an elite corps, Jo—young and dashing, brave and clever. The very best of the English aristocrats, a breed apart, I think. We had some good times as well as the bad ones.’

‘You must miss all your friends?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Ellen agreed. ‘I was lonely until I met you—and then, on the same day, Hal came, and I am not lonely any more.’

‘But it is so unfair that you have had to fend for yourself,’ Jo said, a flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Lord Beverley should be ashamed of himself. If your child is a boy, he will be the heir to the estate.’

‘Yes, in law, perhaps,’ Ellen said, ‘for I believe the estate was entailed—but I should never demand my rights. Besides, Hal told me that his father’s health is uncertain. He has not told him that he was looking for me, nor will he tell him that he has found me—at least until the baby is born. He thinks that a grandchild may mellow Lord Beverley, and if Hal makes the kind of marriage his father asks of him…’

‘Yes, I see,’ Jo said. ‘I suppose Lord Beverly will expect him to marry an heiress or the daughter of landed gentry?’

‘Oh, yes, I imagine so. My grandfather was in trade, though Father had bought land and was what they call a warm man—but that was not enough for him.’ Ellen looked sad. ‘I know it hurt Matt to be estranged from his father, but it was Lord Beverley’s own fault.’

‘Yes, indeed it was,’ Jo agreed. ‘Well, we must hope that he will relent in time, because it would be so much nicer for you to have your own home and enough money to live on.’

‘Hal has offered that,’ Ellen told her. ‘But I have refused him, at least for the moment. If I cannot manage, I shall ask for help. It may be more difficult to work when I have a child.’

‘Yes, I expect so,’ Jo said. She sipped her tea. ‘I have been working with the ladies of the church community. There is to be a bazaar next weekend and I have been asked to help with the preparations, and on the cake stall…though I must ask Aunt Wainwright about that, for she may not allow it.’

Ellen nodded her understanding. ‘She may not think it quite proper for her niece, because of course there will be persons of all sorts there on that day, I imagine.’

‘If you mean there will be poor folk, ordinary women, working men and their children, I am sure you are right. I always used to help Papa at home—he considered it was good for his daughters to see how other people lived. We were fortunate, because we always had food on the table, and we often gave some of it to beggars who came to our door. He would say that it was my duty to help, but Aunt Wainwright may wish me to accompany her somewhere.’

‘Well, you must ask her,’ Ellen said and frowned. ‘Does she know you visit me here?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Jo said airily, because she would not offend her friend by telling her she was keeping her visits a secret for the most part. ‘I think I should be going now. I shall come again as soon as I—’ They heard the doorknocker at that moment and Ellen went to answer it. Jo pulled on her York tan gloves and picked up her reticule. Hearing the voice in the hall, she hesitated, her heart thumping madly of a sudden.

She stood waiting as the door from the hall opened and a gentleman followed Ellen into the small parlour. He looked at her, his eyes quizzing her in that bold way of his and she smiled.

‘I was just about to leave, sir,’ she said. ‘I must not be late back or my aunt will worry.’

‘Oh, must you go so soon?’ Hal asked and frowned. ‘I hope it is not on my account. I had thought of something I wanted to tell Ellen, but I can leave and return later if you have not finished your gossiping.’

‘We were not gossiping,’ Jo said. She had a feeling that his return was an excuse to see her again, but she told herself she was being foolish. He was almost engaged to Chloe! Besides, he would never think of her in that way. ‘It was merely a discussion of the activities concerning the church bazaar next weekend. I have been helping with the preparations.’

‘Have you, indeed? How industrious of you,’ Hal said, a glimmer of laughter in his eyes. ‘Most young ladies would find something more pleasurable to employ their time while in Bath, I imagine.’

‘Oh, I have time enough for all I want to do,’ Jo told him, a spark of defiance in her eyes. ‘I assure you, I prefer to be busy rather than to sit idle—and one meets friends.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Hal said a hint of devilment about him. ‘Tell me, Miss Horne—are you given to good works?’

‘Papa taught us to consider others,’ Jo said. ‘Marianne and I used to make lots of clothes for the poor children in our village. There were always offcuts that could be used for something, and she was a marvel at cutting a pattern from the odd bits of cloth. We wasted nothing at the Vicarage.’

‘The Vicarage…yes, your father was a parson, I believe.’ Hal frowned, looking at her thoughtfully. Her name had seemed oddly familiar from the first. Something had been hovering at the back of his mind, but he had not put two and two together until this moment. ‘Drew married a girl called Marianne Horne and her father was a parson…’ He stared at her incredulously. ‘Can it be? I recall that you told me your elder sister had been recently married…did she by chance marry Drew Marlbeck?’

‘Yes? Why do you ask?’ Jo stared at him in bewilderment.

‘Drew is a friend,’ Hal said. ‘He sent me an invitation and I should have been at the wedding had my father not been taken ill at that time.’

‘Oh…’ Jo nodded ‘…how odd that we should meet in Bath—but there, it is a small world, they say. I am sorry your father was ill. Is he recovered now?’

‘He is very much better than he was, of course, but his health is not good. I believe it may be his heart, though he speaks of his illness as a slight turn and dislikes a fuss.’

‘That is a worry for you,’ Jo said. She wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘Do you not think it might be a comfort to him to know that Ellen is to have your brother’s child, sir?’

‘It might,’ Hal agreed. ‘If broken to him gently, it might well give him something to live for…but I think it best to keep it a secret until the child is born.’

‘I do not see why,’ Jo said, anxious to defend what she saw as Ellen’s rights. ‘Surely any right-thinking man would want to help his son’s widow at such a time? Indeed, it must be his duty to his son’s wife and unborn child—do you not agree?’

‘Please do not,’ Ellen said and threw her a look of appeal. ‘I have no intention of approaching Lord Beverley for anything. I shall manage very well as I am—but if he wishes to see his grandchild when he or she is born, he will always be welcome in my home.’

‘I believe he may relent when he sees the babe,’ Hal said, but looked thoughtful. ‘It is not right that Ellen should still be working in her condition, but I am here if she needs me.’

‘Well, I must leave,’ Jo said, reluctantly tearing herself away. ‘I dare say you have things to discuss. No, do not come to the door with me, Ellen. I can see myself out.’

‘Then I shall accompany you, Miss Horne. For I may return later to speak to Ellen.’

Jo looked at him uncertainly, but he seemed determined to accompany her. They walked in silence for a moment.

‘I mean to call at the library, sir. I do not think that you can wish to visit it yourself.’

‘Do you not think me bookish?’ His eyes quizzed her. ‘You wrong me, Miss Horne. I can sometimes sit for an hour or so at a time with a good book.’

‘Indeed? As long as that? You surprise me, sir.’

‘Now you are teasing me, Miss Horne.’

‘Yes, I am—do you mind?’

‘Mind?’ Hal smiled oddly. If he were to tell her what was in his mind at that moment, she might be shocked. ‘It delights me, Miss Horne. It seems that you are full of surprises. But we are at the library and I shall leave you here for the moment.’

Jo gave him her hand. He raised it to his lips to kiss it. Her heart raced, and she turned away, her cheeks flushing to go into the library.

Jo walked home swiftly afterwards. The day had fled again, and she would be back only just in time to change for tea.