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‘Well, well now, puss, have you missed me?’ he said, laughing. ‘What will Miss Brown think of this very unfashionable display of affection?’

‘Miss Brown is delighted with this display of domestic harmony,’ murmured Felicity, her grey eyes twinkling.

Sir James grinned at her, keeping one arm about his wife’s still tiny waist.

‘I’m glad to hear it. And I am glad to see you, Miss Brown. I hope Lady Souden has warned you, we are to be very busy for the next two months.’

‘She told me you would be entertaining a great deal, Sir James.’

‘Aye, dukes, duchesses, crown princes—and never a moment to call our own. What do you say to that, Miss Brown?’

‘I say Lady Souden is equal to the challenge, sir.’

‘Aye, so do I,’ declared Sir James, giving his wife another kiss. ‘But I rely upon you to look after her when I am not here, Miss Brown. Lydia is far too careless of her health, especially now.’

Felicity met his eyes and said resolutely, ‘You may depend upon me, Sir James. I would not wish any harm to come to Lady Souden or the unborn child.’

Sir James bestowed a grateful smile upon her.

‘Thank you, I am sure I may. Lydia has told me of your fear of going out, Miss Brown, and I will do everything I can to lessen your own discomfiture. A carriage shall be at your disposal at all times, you have only to say the word. Now upstairs and unpack, the pair of you, for we have a guest for dinner.’

‘Oh?’ Lydia clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Is it someone I know?’

‘No, a young man I met only t’other day, but he is very agreeable, I assure you. He will set all the young ladies’ hearts aflutter this summer, I have not a doubt.’

‘Oh, who?’ cried Lydia. ‘Do tell me, my love!’

Sir James kissed her nose.

‘He is a young nobleman. Rich, handsome and most clearly in want of a wife.’ He looked from Felicity to Lady Souden, his smile growing. ‘It is the new Earl of Rosthorne.’

Felicity’s hands tightened on her reticule. What cruel trick was fate playing upon her, to force the earl upon her notice so soon? She cast an anguished look at Lydia, who attempted a little laugh as she turned to her husband.

‘R-Rosthorne? Well, bless me! How is this, my dear?’

‘He is newly arrived in town,’ explained Sir James. ‘We met to discuss the arrangements for looking after his Highness’s guests at the forthcoming Peace Celebrations and he struck me as a very pleasant young man. I thought it would please you to meet him, my love.’

‘It—it does,’ stammered Lydia. ‘It is a little sudden, that is all. Having just arrived…’

‘Well, he is not expecting any formal ceremony. Just a snug little dinner, I told him, so off you go and put on one of those pretty gowns of yours, my love. You are required to look charming tonight, nothing more.’

‘Then perhaps Lady Souden should come upstairs and rest for a little while,’ suggested Felicity, edging towards the door.

With another slightly hysterical laugh Lydia allowed Felicity to lead her away, leaving Sir James still chuckling to himself.

‘I am sorry, Fee,’ she whispered as they went up the stairs. ‘I had no idea James would invite Rosthorne to the house!’

Felicity sighed. ‘It was inevitable, I suppose, but I did not expect it to be today.’

Lydia squeezed her hand. ‘You must not worry, my love, you need not see him. This house has so many rooms the earl could be living here and not know of your existence!’

Despite Lady Souden’s assurances Felicity found herself growing ever more anxious as the hour approached for Lord Rosthorne’s arrival. For five years she had done everything in her power to remain hidden from Nathan Carraway and the thought that he would shortly be in the same house terrified her. Not least because she had an overwhelming desire to see him again.

It was dangerous, but she could not resist. A few minutes after Lydia had gone down to the drawing room, Felicity slipped out of the little chamber that Lady Souden had decreed should be set aside as her own private sitting room. The entrance hall of Souden House extended up to the roof and a glazed dome provided natural light for the ornate staircase that rose from a central point to the half-landing before splitting into two flights that curved around the side walls to the first floor and the main reception rooms. From there a narrower stair curled up to the second floor where a small balcony overlooked the hall below. During past seasons Felicity had often brought her young charges on to this balcony when Sir James was entertaining and they had spent many a happy hour watching the arrival of the guests. Now she decided to use it for her own purposes.

Feeling very much like an errant schoolchild, she crept towards the edge of the balcony and sank down. Felicity knew from experience that visitors rarely raised their eyes beyond the ornately decorated first floor. Her dark-grey gown blended well with the shadows and through the balusters she had an excellent view of the front door and entrance hall as well as the first rise of the staircase. The long-case clock on the landing below chimed the hour. It was followed almost immediately by the sounds of an arrival. Felicity knew a sudden, irrational desire to laugh—trust Nathan to be so punctual, it was the soldier in him.

Then he was there. They were in the same house, the same space. She leaned forward, straining to see him. Her heart turned over as he walked into the hall, but his curlybrimmed beaver hat obscured her view of his face. She had never seen him in anything but his scarlet regimentals and thought him handsome in uniform but now, seeing his tall, athletic figure in the plain black swallowtailed coat, she almost fainted with a wild yearning to run down the stairs and throw herself into his arms. She stifled it, reminding herself of how he had betrayed her. She hated him, did she not? She had vowed she was done with him for ever. Yet here she was, hiding in the shadows, desperate to see the man who had broken her heart.

He spoke to the footman as he handed over his hat; she could not make out the words but his warm, deep voice awoke a memory and sent a tingle down her spine. She noticed that his brown hair was no longer tied back but cut short so that it just curled over his collar. He turned to ascend the stair and she was momentarily dazzled by his snowy white neckcloth and waistcoat. As he lifted his head she put her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry. A disfiguring scar cut through his left eyebrow and down across his cheek. His face was leaner and his mouth, which she remembered as almost constantly smiling, was turned down, the lines at each side more pronounced. She had expected him to look a little older, but the severity of his countenance shocked her.