by Anne Herries
fault.'
'It is not just that—though it haunts my dreams,' Jack replied, his dark eyes shadowed with pain for
a moment. 'I do not believe I am capable of loving, Anne, not with my whole heart. Not as a
woman I would make my wife has a right to expect. You are my friend. You do not ask for more
than I can give.'
'I believe you have a great capacity for loving,' Anne replied, her look full of warmth. 'You were
hurt too many times as a child, but one day you will discover your true self. Our arrangement has
been a pleasant one for us both. However, should you wish to marry...'
'Yes, I know your mind,' Jack said. 'I have a true fondness for you, my dear. Had you been free,
Anne, I believe we might have found happiness together.'
'Perhaps.' Her lovely eyes clouded with sadness. 'Unfortunately, I am not free.'
Jack touched her hand in sympathy. He knew that she was sometimes desperately unhappy, but her
family would never permit her to divorce her husband. They had persuaded Sir Bernard Simmons
to allow her to retire to Bath, to live quietly with a companion, but for the sake of the two sons of
the marriage, the husband and wife met occasionally in society. Anne's sons were both boarders at
an exclusive school, and she saw them two or three times a year. It was not an ideal situation for
her, but it was the best she could expect. Her only alternative was to live abroad in exile, and then
she would not have been allowed to see her sons until they reached their maturity.
'Do not pity me,' she said-softly. 'I was deceived in the man I married, but I have learned to live
with my mistakes. I have friends who care for me, and most of the time I am content.'
'I have never pitied you,' Jack replied honestly. 'I admire and respect you, Anne. You are one of
the finest—and certainly the bravest—woman I have ever met.'
'One day you will meet a woman you can admire, respect and love,' Anne said. 'Because I care for
you, my dear, I hope that day will come soon.'
Beatrice was sitting in the back parlour of the house in Royal Crescent; it was one of the fairly
new houses built by J.B.Otto, an elegant three-storied building faced with black mathematical
tiles. She glanced up with a smile as Olivia entered.
'Your walk has given you some colour,' she said. 'I am sorry I was so sleepy this morning. It is
unlike me. I cannot imagine what was wrong with me.'
'As long as you are not ill?' Olivia was a little anxious. Having found her sister at last, after so
many years spent apart, Beatrice had become doubly precious to her.
'Oh, no, not at all,' Beatrice replied. 'I feel wonderful. I hope your walk was not spoiled because I
did not accompany you?'
'I missed you, of course I did—but it was the most fortunate thing,' Olivia replied, smiling at her. 'I
met Robina Perceval. She was out walking with a maid, too. The Dowager Lady Exmouth was
also feeling a little tired apparently. Robina asked if we would take tea with them this afternoon. I
said yes. I hope that was all right?'
'Yes, of course,' Beatrice said. 'I met the Dowager when I was in London this spring. I liked her. I
am very pleased you will have Robina for company. It is pleasant to have real friends.'
'Yes.' A shadow passed across Olivia's face. She had had so many friends in London, but she was
not sure how many of them would want to know her now. 'Yes, it is pleasant to have real friends.'
'I have been reading some letters Harry sent on, which one of the maids fetched this morning from
the receiving office,' Beatrice said. 'There was one from Amy Rushmere, who as you know lives
in Abbot Giles, and another from my friend, Ghislaine de Champlain. Incidentally, she writes that
she has found a gentleman she likes. A young curate who has taken an interest in her.'
'That is good news. I liked Ghislaine, though I saw very little of her. Was there any other news?'
'They both had gossip from the village to tell us.'
'Oh, what did they say?' Olivia was as curious as her sister to hear news from the villages. 'Does
anyone know what is going to happen to Steepwood Abbey yet?'
'No, I do not believe so,' Beatrice said. 'Ghislaine told me there are many rumours flying around.
Everyone is still wondering who could have killed Lord Sywell, of course.'
'Nothing has been discovered yet?'
'No, nothing certain. Ghislaine heard that a pedlar was seen entering the grounds the previous day,
a man who was a stranger to the four villages.'
Olivia nodded. 'I am sure it must have been someone like that, or perhaps a jealous lover.'
'Yes, I dare say.' Beatrice looked thoughtful. 'Amy Rushmere's news was even more intriguing.
She says that a rather peculiar little man has been to the village making enquiries about Athene
Filmer of Datchet House—you remember that she and her mother Charlotte live in Steep Ride?
And Amy says that although she did not realise it until later, he also prompted her to talk about
Louise Hanslope...'
'I have seen Athene at the market in Abbot Quincey, I believe, though I have not passed more than
a few words with her.' Olivia frowned. 'Was not Lady Sywell's name Hanslope before she
married the Marquis?'
'Yes,' Beatrice agreed. 'You know her history as well as I, Olivia. Everyone imagined her to be
Hanslope's by-blow—but it seems the investigator was very curious about how and when she was
first brought to the villages as a child. What do you make of that? And why do you suppose he was
enquiring about Athene Filmer?'
'I do not know.' Olivia frowned. 'It all sounds a little odd to me. Why should anyone be asking
such questions...unless...' She looked at Beatrice. 'Do you think someone has discovered what
happened to Lady Sywell?'
'Well, there must be some reason for the enquiry,' Beatrice said. 'Amy could not get any
information out of the man who spoke to her, except that his name was Jackson—but she says she
thinks he may be a Bow Street Runner. And a very clever man by the sound of him.'
'No! Then his enquiry may be official.' Olivia looked stunned. 'Why would an officer of the law be
enquiring after Lady Sywell? Surely no one truly believes that she could have killed her husband?'
'I cannot believe that they should, but obviously someone is interested in finding out more about
her,' Beatrice said. 'It is certainly intriguing, is it not?'
'Yes,' Olivia agreed. 'I do wish we could discover what has happened to her, don't you?'
'Well, perhaps we shall in time,' Beatrice said, and smiled at her. 'Now, tell me, dearest—which
gown are you going to wear to Lady Clements's ball this evening? That pale lemon, which
becomes you so well—or the white?'
The ball was already in full swing when the two sisters arrived at the large assembly rooms
where the festivities were being held that evening. It was a glittering occasion, Lady Clements
having given it to celebrate the engagement of her niece to Lord Manningtree, and everyone of note
who was staying in Brighton had been invited.
'Ah, dear Lady Ravensden:' Their hostess greeted them with a beaming smile of approval and a
kiss on the cheek for Beatrice. 'How pleasant it is to see you again—and you, Miss Roade Burton,
of course.' Olivia could not but be aware of the slight look of disapproval in Lady Clements's
eyes. However, she had been accepted on the surface and she knew it was up t
o her to put a brave
face on the situation. She could not expect to be as popular or as universally approved as she had
been during her Season.
She was looking extremely pretty that evening in a gown of pale lemon with a squared neckline,
and a wide sash of a deeper yellow. Her hair had been drawn back off her face and held with a
band of dark green velvet studded with diamante, and she wore a matching velvet ribbon around
her throat with a tiny diamond and pearl drop that Beatrice had recently given her. Although so
simply dressed, she was one of the most attractive ladies in the room, and heads turned as she
walked by.
Whenever Olivia had attended a ball in London, gentlemen wanting to partner her had besieged
her immediately she arrived. Although she almost at once saw several young gentlemen she knew
well, they did not approach her, though one or two smiled in her direction. Olivia sat quietly with
her sister, her head up as she tried not to look either upset or humiliated. It was all of twenty
minutes before her hostess brought a gentleman to her.
'Miss Roade Burton,' Lady Clements said with a simpering smile. 'Will you allow me to introduce
my nephew to you. Mr Reginald Smythe—Miss Roade Burton.'
'M-miss Roade Burton,' stammered the rather spotty-faced young man. 'W-would you do me the
honour of s-standing up with me for the next dance?'
Olivia's card would usually have been full long before an immature youth could get near enough to
ask her. However, that evening she was grateful for his offer, so she smiled and thanked him.
Since the dance being performed next was the first of a set of country dances, Olivia was not
forced to stay with her partner the whole time. Which was fortunate, since Mr Reginald Smythe
had no more than half a dozen words to say for himself.
As Olivia progressed down the line, she found herself dancing with several gentlemen she had
known in London. One or two of them seemed embarrassed, but three smiled at her and said they
hoped she would save a dance for them later.
The ice having been broken, the three young men who had been particular friends of hers in town
approached Olivia after the set had ended: Mr John Partridge, Sir George Vine, and Mr Henry
Peterson. All of them filled in one space in her card, which still left a great many free—including
the supper dance. This was something that had never happened to Olivia before. She had known
her suitors to come almost to blows over the supper dance!
To be left sitting with the matrons for a large part of the evening was a humbling experience for a
girl who had been all the rage for one heady Season. Olivia did join Robina and the Dowager
Lady Exmouth for a while, and Lord Exmouth was kind enough to stand up with her, after a hint
from Robina.
However, she was very much aware that her welcome in society that evening was less than warm.
She was being tolerated because she was Lady Ravensden's sister, but she was not yet forgiven. It
was with a sinking heart that she saw Mr Smythe making his way purposefully towards her just
before the supper dance.
'Miss Roade Burton?' A pleasant female voice at her elbow made her look round. 'I am Lady
Simmons. You do not know me, but my friend has had the honour of making your acquaintance.'
Olivia flushed as she saw that Lady Simmons was addressing her. 'Good evening, ma'am—
Captain Denning.'
'Captain Denning has asked me to intercede for him,' Lady Simmons said. 'He wishes to dance. I
do not waltz. Will you not take pity on him, Miss Roade Burton?'
Olivia's heart jerked oddly as she glanced towards him. 'Thank you, ma'am. I should like to
dance.' Her eyes met Captain Denning's. 'If you truly wish to dance, sir?'
'I should be honoured, Miss Roade Burton.'
'Thank you.'
Olivia gave him her hand. Her heart was still behaving in a very odd way. She supposed it must
be relief or gratitude at having been rescued from another dance with Mr Smythe.
'I believe I owe you an apology,' Jack said as he led her towards the dance floor.
Olivia's startled eyes lifted to meet his. She was not sure whether it was his statement or the touch
of his hand at her waist which had made her heart thump so wildly.
'I cannot imagine why you should think that, Captain Denning.'
'I have been told that my manner can sometimes seem harsh, even when it is not intended to be so,'
he said. 'I thought perhaps I had given you a dislike of my company?'
'Oh, no!' Olivia's cheeks were burning. He must have noticed her turning away that morning on the
seafront. 'It was foolish of me this morning. I was a little embarrassed.'
'When I told you I had no intention of visiting Brighton, I had none,' Jack explained as they began
to glide around the dance floor. 'A friend of mine asked me to come for a particular reason.'
'Lady Simmons?' Olivia kept her eyes downcast, not daring to look up at him.
'Yes. She asked me to escort her on the road here, because she does not like to travel with her
brother's children, who are rather noisy at times.' He hesitated, then: 'I am sure she would not
mind my saying that her doctor advised some sea air. She has been unwell...'
'Oh, I am so sorry,' Olivia said at once. 'I do hope she will soon feel better.'
'I believe she already does. The visit is a means of lifting her spirits.'
Olivia nodded. She did not enquire further, for it would not have been good manners. Besides, she
was feeling a little breathless.
She had never experienced such pleasure in dancing the waltz before! Captain Denning moved
more gracefully than she could possibly have expected, but somehow she knew it was not just his
dancing that was affecting her so powerfully that evening.
She raised her eyes, smiling a little shyly. Was it her imagination, or had some of the shadows
lifted from his face? He seemed that night to have shed some of the strain which she had seen in
him the morning they had met in his woods. Perhaps the sea air had begun to improve his health?
Jack smiled in return, and Olivia's heart did a rapid somersault. There was such charm and
sweetness in his face at that moment, but also a haunting sadness. She wondered what lay behind
his expression. What could possibly have caused him so much pain?
She wanted to reach up and touch his cheek, to ease away the hurt that was so obvious to her.
Naturally she could do no such thing, and in another moment the smile and the sadness were gone,
hidden beneath the stern expression he habitually assumed.
Olivia was not fooled. She had seen beneath the mask to the real man, and she sensed that his
harsh manner was a kind of shield. Quite how she could know so much from one glance was not
clear to her, but her instinct told her that she had somehow discovered the true man and she was
intrigued.
This feeling of floating was heavenly. Oh, how she wished this dance might go on for ever!
She held her sigh of disappointment inside as the music ended.
'Will you do me the honour of taking supper with me?'
Olivia glanced up at Captain Denning as he led her from the floor. 'It is kind of you to ask, sir—
but should you not return to Lady Simmons?'
'Anne is with her brother's party this evening,' Jack told her. 'She came to Brighton in their
company, and is staying at Lord Wilburton's house.'
'
Oh...' Olivia blushed. 'Then I should be much obliged, Captain Denning.'
He looked at her thoughtfully. 'Men are often fools, Miss Roade Burton. You must forgive us for
much that we do.'
He had obviously heard the gossip about her, and he must have noticed her sitting out many of the
dances earlier. Olivia's head went up proudly.
'I brought my situation on myself, sir. I discovered that I could not love Lord Ravensden. Nor did
he truly love me. It would have been wrong for us both had I gone through with the marriage. I
know what I did has offended many...'
'What you did was both brave and honest,' Jack replied. 'I respect you for having the courage,
Miss Roade Burton.'
Olivia smiled. 'I dare say you thought me a silly chit when I could not bring myself to walk past
your dog the other day, but I was bitten quite badly as a child and I am frightened of dogs.'
'But of not much else, I think?'
His eyes quizzed her, and something in his tone made Olivia's heart race wildly. Really, what was
the matter with her? She had never, ever felt like this before! Excited and yet nervous, filled with
unimaginable longings.
This was only the second time they had spoken, and yet she felt drawn to him by an irresistible
force. It was ridiculous! She could not possibly be falling in love with this man...or could she?
No, no, of course she could not. She knew nothing about him. Yet what did she need to know other
than the fact that he made her feel so alive?
Olivia schooled her unruly heart as the Captain's voice broke into her thoughts. 'What would you
like me to fetch you?'
'Oh, just something light—a syllabub perhaps?'
Olivia sat down at the table Captain Denning had procured for them, watching as he threaded his
way through the crowd milling around the sumptuous buffet tables, She thought he stood out from
the other gentlemen, and not just because his hair was longer than most other men's. No, there was
something about him—a presence: an air of mystery? Oh, she did not know! He was just different.
'Ah, there you are,' a soft voice said at her elbow. 'No, please do not get up, Miss Roade Burton. I
came only to invite you to a little informal affair I am giving tomorrow evening at my brother's
house. I have spoken to Lady Ravensden, and she is agreeable.'
