'A warehouse in the East End,' Ashe said. 'Miss Hurst mentioned it at dinner the other evening and I escorted her to look around.'

'Miss Hurst?' Sara said. 'Lord Fransham's sister? Why was she interested?'

The plan seemed to present itself fully formed in Ashe's head. 'Because she is an amateur expert in objets d'art,' he said. 'Rather more than an amateur, but you won't mention that to anyone, I'm sure. They are somewhat short of funds and she buys items that appeal to her and then sells them discreetly. Auctions and so forth.' He was not going to mention the shop and her other personas. He had promised, and this was quite enough to explain what he was about to suggest. 'You might have noticed that fine suite of cameos she was wearing at the Richmonds' ball. If we were to offer her a fee...'

As he expected, none of his family seemed shocked. 'How clever,' Sara approved. 'I know they are not well off-I was warned not to set my sights on her brother-but that must be a great help. No wonder she always dresses with such style. I was wondering about that shopkeeper in Jermyn Street, where we bought my moonstone, but Miss Hurst would be much better.'

'Certainly,' Ashe agreed, straight-faced. 'We wouldn't want a Frenchwoman.'

His mother was frowning. 'Miss Hurst can hardly go off with you unchaperoned, Ashe.'

'There is Great-Aunt Charlotte in the Dower House. She could stay with her,' Ashe pointed out. 'Or Aunt Charlotte might prefer to come to the house. If I hired a chaise for Miss Hurst and she had her maid with her, I cannot imagine that would be a problem.'

'All I know of my aunt is that she cordially disliked my father,' the marquess said. 'But I can write, see if she's willing to a.s.sist us in this, if your Miss Hurst is prepared to oblige us.'

My Miss Hurst. Now there was a concept that appealed to him. Ashe kept his face neutral. 'I will sound her out in principle. If Great-Aunt is not willing to have a guest or move to the main house, then we will just have to think again.'

Great-aunt or not, he was going to offer Phyllida a fee that would keep her from the necessity of going into the East End for months. Months while he persuaded her into his bed, months while he enjoyed her as his mistress.

'You want me to come with you, alone, to your family home?' Phyllida sorted through a jumble of emotions. Surprise, a surge of wicked excitement, rapidly suppressed, outrage if this was deliberate plotting, delight that she might earn a fee so easily and in such surroundings.

'I am asking you to accept my escort, with your maid. My great-aunt Charlotte has condescended to move into the main house for the duration-largely out of curiosity, I suspect, but she will make an unexceptionable chaperon should anyone discover your presence.'

'But-'

'I am suggesting a generous fee by the day, as we have no idea of the extent of the problem, and you have the first opportunity to negotiate on items we wish to sell.' Ashe Herriard sat back in the chair, crossed long legs in elegant relaxation and waited. 'Naturally we will not be making it known that we have employed an expert, let alone who it is,' he added.

'I suppose I could develop exhaustion from all the gadding about I have been doing and need to visit a friend in the country for a few days' rest,' Phyllida pondered aloud. A generous fee and time alone in Ashe's company. It was very tempting. But could she trust him? Or, rather more to the point, could she trust herself?

'You would not have to venture anywhere near Buck's territory for months,' Ashe remarked.

Cowardice? Or the perfect excuse to yield to Ashe's persuasions? Whichever it was, that was a powerful argument. 'I will be glad to do it,' she agreed before she could talk herself out of it. 'Gregory is going to the same house party as your family, and so is Miss Millington. Lady Arnold has promised to exert her best endeavours to secure her vouchers for Almack's because she is Gregory's G.o.dmother and thinks Harriet will be good for him.'

'And you are not invited?'

'Best not to remind the patronesses about our parents' casual approach to marriage,' she said with a lightness she was finding hard to maintain lately.

'May I ask what happened? I do not mean to pry if it is not something you choose to speak of.'

There was a faint snort from Anna, sitting in the corner with a basket of mending to keep up the appearance of propriety. Phyllida shrugged. 'It is no secret. They were madly in love-or, at least, Mama was-eloped and then Papa just kept vaguely failing to get round to marrying her.

'He made every excuse you might imagine. His father would forgive them in time and then they could have a proper society wedding, he'd run out of funds for Mama's bride clothes, he had to come back to London from Tunbridge Wells where she was in lodgings in order to make money for the rent by gambling. One pretext after another.

'And once Mama was expecting me she was hardly the slender girl who had attracted him in the first place, so she saw even less of him. Finally a frantic letter brought him back to marry her. But, of course, he stopped off for a prize fight on the way, got drunk and surfaced a day later. A day too late, as it turned out, for I had been born the night before.'

'That,' Ashe said austerely, 'is outrageous.'

'Mama put it rather more strongly, apparently. But she loved him, at least enough for Gregory to be conceived. After that we hardly saw him. Money would arrive erratically.'

And then Mama had become ill and so, with no family alive on her mother's side, Phyllida had set out for London to find Papa. But that had cost more than she had imagined. He was not to be located, not immediately, so she had to pay for lodgings and food and gradually she had become more and more desperate until there had been only one stark choice. Sell the last thing of value she had, or starve and fail her mother and brother.

'Miss Hurst?'

She started, looked up and found Ashe watching her, his faint frown at odds with the relaxed pose he still held. 'Sorry. I was just remembering. It was not a happy time. But that is all in the past now. Anna, we must pack and prepare for a trip of- How long, Lord Clere?'

'Five days? We can do the journey in a day, easily, I understand, so that would give you three to a.s.sess the situation. I hoped to leave the day after tomorrow at nine.'

'Very well. I will be waiting.'

Phyllida found herself staring rather blankly at Ashe's broad shoulders as he made his way out in Anna's wake. Had she just made a terrible mistake in trusting his discretion? The consequences of this getting out were serious. Not for her reputation, as such, for if Ashe said his great-aunt was to be there as chaperon, she was certain she would be. But she was risking being exposed as a dealer, as not just dabbling in trade, but being deeply immersed in it.

It was, she thought with a sigh, thoroughly unfair. If Gregory pulled off the successful wooing of a mercantile heiress he would be warmly congratulated by everyone and his wife accepted everywhere.

'Penny for them?' Her brother was lounging in the doorway, an amused smile on his face at her abstraction.

'I was just thinking about you. Have you seen Harriet today?'

'Barely ten minutes ago. I took her walking in Hyde Park under the eye of her mama. The approving eye, I flatter myself.' He came and sat down where Ashe had been, another long-legged, attractive aristocrat to grace the little room.

Phyllida's conscience gave a twinge. 'You do like Harriet, don't you, Gregory? Really feel some affection for her, I mean? I like her very much and I would hate to think she was going to end up the loser in a transaction between her parents and you.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Are you asking if I will be faithful to her?'

'Well, yes, I suppose I am. And kind to her, a proper companion. She is too intelligent and sensitive to be fobbed off while you gallivant about town spending her money.'

'Ouch.' To her surprise he neither laughed it off or became angry. 'You are right, of course. If she was one of those empty-headed little geese who only wants a t.i.tle it wouldn't matter, but I do like her and I think we could make a go of it.' He grimaced. 'If she'll have me.'

'Are you going to speak to her father?'

'They've asked me to their box at the theatre on Monday. I was going to see how Millington seems towards me then. If he looks amiable, I'll go and talk to him on Tuesday. If he's starchy, I'll expose them all to my many charms and talents for a few more days before I put it to the test.'

'Would you mind if I left town for a while?'

'No, of course not. Where are you going? Amanda Lewis in Ess.e.x?'

It was harder to explain than she thought it would be. Phyllida found herself scrabbling round for the right way to word it, almost as though she had a guilty conscience. This is business, she told herself. 'Lord Clere has asked me, on behalf of his father, to a.s.sess some items at their country seat in Hertfordshire. I would need to leave the day after tomorrow. It should take about five days in all.'

'That's good,' Gregory said. 'I should imagine you'll get on well with the marchioness and Lady Sara. Finding the pace in town a bit hectic and needing a rest, are they?'

'Actually...' Oh Lord, how to put this? 'They aren't going. Nor the marquess. Lord Clere is arranging a chaise for me and Anna.'

Gregory, it seemed, was not quite as relaxed as he looked. 'What?' He sat bolt upright. 'Are you telling me you are going off with that rake?'

'He is not a rake! Is he?' she asked, suddenly dubious. 'How do you know?'

'It takes one to know one,' her brother said darkly.

'Oh, really, Gregory! Either come up with some evidence-ruined maidens, drunken orgies or three-day gambling sessions-or stop slandering the poor man. I thought you liked him and, besides, he is not coming in the chaise and his great-aunt will move from the Dower House, so I will be perfectly adequately chaperoned.' I hope.

'I ought to go and talk to him about this.' But her brother sat back again, apparently mollified.

'Certainly,' Phyllida said, hoping she did not sound uncharacteristically meek. Please don't! 'I really appreciate you doing something so potentially embarra.s.sing for me,' she added with sisterly cunning.

He rolled his eyes. 'I suppose it would be a bit awkward, asking him his intentions like that. Might be open to misunderstanding.'

'Whatever you think best, Gregory,' Phyllida said. 'But the real danger is that anyone discovers why I am away. So, if you're asked, just say that I've gone into the country to stay with friends for five days for a rest. Will you do that?'

He nodded and got to his feet. 'Got to get changed. I'll see you at dinner, Phyll.'

Left alone, she tried to decide whether she was happy that she had persuaded Gregory of the wisdom of this expedition or not. Five days with Ashe Herriard. Was that going to be Heaven-or h.e.l.l?

Chapter Nine.

'Good morning, Miss Hurst.' Lord Clere stood on her top step, looking indecently awake and perfectly groomed, just like the rather handsome bay gelding that was tethered by its reins to the area railings. Also sleek, male and alert was Lucifer, perched on the pommel.

Phyllida, on the other hand, was feeling hara.s.sed, wan, decidedly out of sorts and in no mood to be amused by evil-minded crows. It was one thing to agree to hazard one's reputation in the safety of one's own drawing room, but two nights in which to fret over it-in the intervals between fantasising most unwisely about the person of Ashe Herriard-was two nights too long.

'Lord Clere. We are ready, as you see. Come along, Anna, don't keep his lordship waiting.' The street, mercifully, was empty. It had only just occurred to her that to be seen getting into a hired chaise in the company of a man not her brother was more than enough to cause scandal, regardless of her motives for doing so.

'Are you comfortable, Miss Hurst?' he enquired when she was seated and wishing she had thought to add a veil to her bonnet.

'Perfectly, thank you. Anna, pull the blind down on your side. If we can depart as soon as possible, my lord, I would appreciate it. I have no wish to be seen, under the circ.u.mstances.'

'Of course.' He closed the carriage door and the vehicle jerked into motion.

Eleven words. I can hardly convict him of attempting to seduce me with his charm this morning, she thought as she huddled back against the seat and hoped that no one could see through the gla.s.s at the front of the chaise between her and the bobbing backs of the postillions. But then, all the thoughts about seduction are in your head, your fantasies. Probably.

Then a rider on a raking bay gelding pa.s.sed the team and she found herself smiling. Why not have fantasies? The man looked magnificent on a horse and she was not made of stone. Fantasies were safe, much safer than yielding to impulses. In her daydreams pa.s.sion was safe, romantic, pleasurable. Unreal.

'This will make a nice change,' she said to Anna. 'It is a while since we've driven out to the country. I wonder what Lord Clere's great-aunt is like.'

'An old dragon, I expect,' the maid said with a sniff. 'At least, I hope she is. If she exists at all,' she added.

'Are you suggesting that Lord Clere invented her and that there will be no one to chaperon me?' Phyllida demanded.

'Could be.' Anna pursed her lips. 'Or perhaps that's what you're hoping for, Miss Phyllida. He's the gent you were talking about in the park, isn't he? Handsome as sin, that one.'

'Nonsense. At least, anyone who isn't as blind as a bat must agree Lord Clere is good-looking. But he is on the hunt for an eligible wife, so-'

'It isn't marriage I'm talking about, Miss Phyllida, and you know it. What's his lordship going to say if you come home ruined?'

I am ruined. Phyllida bit her tongue more painfully than she had intended as the carriage bounced over a rut. 'I'm not a green girl, Anna. If Lord Clere has any intentions towards me other than the friendship he professes, I am quite well aware that they would be dishonourable ones and I have no intention of ruining all my plans for the sake of a risky dalliance.'

'I'm glad to hear it, Miss Phyllida.' To Phyllida's relief Anna settled back in her corner and turned her attention to the pa.s.sing landscape, leaving her to he own, not very comfortable, musings.

What if Ashe did make a move, of any kind? Was she strong enough to resist the temptation? He was attractive, attractive enough to break through all her fears and qualms about a physical relationship, at least at first, she thought with a shiver. Kisses and caresses, so long as she remained in control, would be wonderful. But he was a full-bloodied man, pa.s.sionate, strong. She had no hope of controlling him and then... Phyllida shuddered. She liked him as well, too much for her own peace of mind.

Her sensible self told her firmly that to become involved with Ashe Herriard risked all her plans, all her practical, prudent schemes for her future. But at the back of her mind a small, seductive voice murmured that if she was never going to marry she ought to experience what she was missing. That as an independent woman she had the right to make her own decisions about her life.

And what would the Millingtons say if there was a scandal? common sense demanded. And I'm probably quite wrong and Ashe has merely been flirting and has no interest in me at all, that way, she added firmly. I am perfectly safe and the only danger is my overactive imagination. Probably.

Lady Charlotte Herriard proved to be a Roman-nosed spinster of formidable a.s.surance and considerable age who had no qualms about saying exactly what was pa.s.sing through her mind at any moment. Ashe and Phyllida were shown into her drawing room amidst half a dozen lapdogs that skirmished about their ankles.

'Lord Clere, Miss Hurst, my lady,' the butler announced. 'I will have the tea tray brought up immediately.'

'Plenty of cake, mind, Sparrow.' She set down the book she had been reading and crooked an imperious finger at Ashe. 'So, you're Nicholas's son by his Indian wife, are you? You've got the air of your great-grandfather about you. Come here, Miss Hurst, and let me have a look at you. Who are you, eh?'

'The sister of Lord Fransham, ma'am.'

'Ah!' She raised a lorgnette and studied Phyllida with all the arrogance of age and rank.

'Those Hursts. Your father always was a fool, even as a child. So you're a woman of business, are you? Causes a scandal, eh?'

'No, ma'am. I am very discreet.' Phyllida kept a bridle on her temper and thought about the significant fee she was going to earn.

'You'll need to be, because don't think I'm going to drag myself over to the house just to act the chaperon all day long! I'll come to play propriety, but you set out to be independent, my girl, and you'd better be able to look after yourself.' She smiled thinly. 'I certainly did.'

Phyllida was digesting that statement and wondering what Lady Charlotte had got up to in her youth as she was waved to a chair, apparently dismissed as a source of interest.

'Clere, bring those side tables over for the tea and then sit here so I can look at you.' Ashe did as he was bid and sat down opposite his great-aunt. 'You going to behave yourself with this young lady or have I got to set a maid to keep an eye on her?'

'I can a.s.sure you, Great Aunt, that I would do nothing that Miss Hurst would not wish.' Phyllida knew him well enough by now to tell he was amused by the old dragon, but not well enough to tell whether that was a double-edged reply or not.

Lady Charlotte seemed to have no doubts. She raised one thin grey brow. 'Oh, yes, you do indeed remind me of my father.'

'Not his son, my grandfather?' Ashe asked, apparently at ease under the scrutiny.

The tea tray was brought in before Lady Charlotte could answer him. 'Be so good as to pour, Miss Hurst. And eat some cake and then I can do so and keep you company. My doctor forbids it, old fool.' She fixed her gaze on Ashe again. 'No, you do not have the look of your grandsire, for which you may be thankful. Every family mints a bad penny now and again and he was certainly one. Go and have a look at the Long Gallery and the family portraits and you'll see.'

Ashe rode on from the Dower House after an agonising hour of interrogation, leaving Phyllida's chaise and his aunt's travelling chariot to follow him. He told himself that the faint feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach was partly the acerbic questioning of Lady Charlotte and part the consumption of an unwise quant.i.ty of excellent lemon cake. It was nothing to do with apprehension over what was waiting for him at the end of the carriage drive as it wound through the shrubberies to the front of Eldonstone House.

He had fought in battles in the heat of the Indian sun, he had dealt with palace plots, he had foiled an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on his great-uncle and he could outwit a French diplomat. What was there to set his nerves on edge here other than a house that held no memories for him and a straightforward duty to be undertaken?

Lucifer gave a harsh caw and flew down to his shoulder as though seeking rea.s.surance and then the house came into view.

It was an imposing, alien-looking pile of grey stone and red brick, begun, he had learned from his shipboard studies, under Charles II, but owing most of its character from the reign of the first George. Used to small windows, carved grilles and screens and all the details of inward-looking palaces, the expanses of unshielded gla.s.s in numerous windows made the house seem almost indecently exposed. Almost as exposed as the English ladies in a ballroom with their revealing gowns, he thought.

The front doors opened as he approached and liveried servants emerged with Perrott in their midst, his red head a familiar sight. 'My lord! Welcome to Eldonstone.'

Grooms ran to take his horse, the staff lined up to be introduced by Stanbridge the butler and Ashe found himself inside his ancestral home.

He turned a full circle in the hallway, swearing softly under his breath in Persian as he took in the smoke-stained hangings on the walls, the lack of ornament or signs of care, the stack of packing cases pushed partly under the arc of the handsome flight of stairs.