Page 1 of A Gentleman’s Offer

PROLOGUE

JUNE 1817

It was very late, or very early. The sky was lightening in the east, and the blackbirds beginning to sing to welcome the end of the short summer night. Even here, in the heart of fashionable London, there were a few such wild creatures clinging on to life among the trees and bushes of the central private garden, which made a brave attempt to mimic a little rustic wilderness. The grand square with its tall, impressive mansions had been briefly busy earlier, as carriages brought weary party-goers home after another glittering ball, and wearier servants tended to them. But it was quiet now, its inhabitants slumbering in silk-hung bedrooms and crowded servants’ attics, and the square was empty.

But not everyone, it seemed, was fast asleep. A lone figure, cloaked and hooded, slipped from the mews at the rear of one of the grand houses, and stood waiting in the shadows near one of the corners of the square. If there’d been anyone to observe, it would surely have been obvious that some sort of desperate flight was in progress. It must be an elopement. The fugitive – a woman – was struggling with a heavy portmanteau, and there was an indefinable furtiveness about her movements, an evident tension in her tall frame. She appeared to be young, well dressed and anxious. It seemed she was that most interesting of persons, a runaway debutante, a lady of quality. A fanciful observer would have been tempted to guess at the intriguing nature of her whirling thoughts: can I trust him? Will he come as he promised, and at the time he promised? Will we be pursued? And most of all: is it right, what I am daring to do for love, or is it reckless madness that will end badly, in my ruin and a lifetime of regret?

But whatever her private fears, she did not have long to wait. A dilapidated hackney carriage rattled slowly into the square, breaking the tranquillity. It was a brief interruption – the vehicle stopped, the door was released by some passenger already inside, who did not descend to make a romantic scene but leaned out and held the door wide in a practical manner with a dark-clad arm so that the woman could enter. It closed behind her, softly but decisively. A moment or two later, the carriage was moving again, heading east. Its ultimate destination might be guessed – Gretna Green? The Continent? – but could not be known.

Inside, where the invisible observer’s curiosity would surely lead him to trespass if he could, there were embraces, passionate kisses, murmured endearments. It was a vital moment, certainly, in the lives of two young people, and there could be no turning back now.

‘Will my plan work?’ The hood had fallen back to reveal golden curls and a flushed, vivid face; the fugitive was beautiful.

‘Of course it will, my love; you are so clever.’ Her companion, still in shadow, was reassuring, and clasped her hand strongly.

‘I suppose we shall know soon enough…’

The carriage rattled off, into an uncertain future, and the square was quiet again. When the young lady’s flight was discovered, there would be panic, tears, anger, and perhaps pursuit, and even violence. There would inevitably be public scandal. But for now, the blackbirds were left to sing undisturbed.