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Corinna hugged her. ‘You seem exhausted. Why not go to bed early; I find the greatest clarity and calm tends to arrive with the morning light.’

Eliza nodded. The idea of her comfortable bed and the oblivion of sleep seemed especially seductive. She bade everyone goodnight and climbed the stairs.

* * *

The morning did in fact bring a certain calm. Eliza lay in her warm bed gazing at the ceiling high above her, thinking she now knew better where she belonged. To have been loved made her orphanhood more bearable.

When she descended the stairs to breakfast, there was a letter gleaming white on the Jacobean chest in the hall with her name in a hand she did not recognise.

Opening it, she was struck by the Purfoy crest printed and embossed, with the motto Audaci Venus ut Fortuna favet in small gold letters.

In black ink his lordship had scrawled, with fine splatterings of ink that gave the impression of having been written at great speed. Dated the previous night, it read:

Miss Gray would you honour me with your company tomorrow at eleven ante-meridian Perhaps we could ride to the Park

Lord Purfoy had used no punctuation and then signed off with a flourishing P that seemed to have a life of its own.

Eliza carried the note through to breakfast. Once again she was up early and sat alone with her coffee and a piece of toast. She could not fathom what he could want from her and continued to try and control her leaping spirit at the sight of his person, or even his name.

She dressed in her borrowed dark red riding habit that fitted her well, if a little snugly over the bosom, and placed the matching smart hat on her head.

She then asked Davey to saddle up Sally and returned to the house to wait impatiently for the clock to chime eleven.

As the first chime died away there was a knock at the door and Gibbons opened it to the impressive sight of Lord Purfoy in his riding clothes; buckskin breeches, high boots and coat, cut more generously than his close-fitting evening apparel.

His hat was in his hand and Eliza noticed for the first time his hair was not black but dark brown, caught by the sun as he stood on the doorstep, his distinctive dark brows looking less forbidding than usual.

He held out his gloved hand. ‘Good morning, Miss Gray. Shall we go and collect our horses?’

They were soon mounted and with Davey behind them, set off for the Park. Lord Purfoy glanced across at her. ‘You look very well this morning.’ He looked closer. ‘I think I recognise that riding habit. It does you justice.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ Eliza said demurely, uncertain as to the purpose of this expedition.

It was a fine morning and he seemed to be in a tense frame of mind as he made an attempt at light conversation. ‘I’ve been hearing quite a lot from Taz about your equestrian prowess. It’s not easy to impress that tiger, I can assure you.’

She started. Had Taz told him she had been riding Ohio? She calmed her nerves with the thought that Taz was no fool, and not one to gossip. In the coolest manner she could conjure, she said, ‘I rate his opinion highly.’

Lord Purfoy smiled ruefully. ‘I can assure you, Miss Gray, we all do. He’s a stickler when it comes to horse management.’ He turned to her, a curious expression on his face. ‘He tells me you ride without a saddle and can balance on a cantering horse’s back and dance.’

The thought of her outrageous circus act juxtaposed with this austere, patrician nobleman both amused and embarrassed her. ‘Only in the right circumstances,’ she said in a prim voice.

‘Well, perhaps one day there will be the right circumstances for you to show me.’ He was not looking at her but a certain excitement suffused her cheeks and she turned away.

They entered Hyde Park and there met a throng of horsemen and women, and curricles with teams of glossy horses showing off their paces, the riders and drivers hailing one another.

Lord Purfoy was afforded a deal of attention for his celebrated riding and driving skills, and the unmatched beauty of his bloodstock.

Men approached on horseback and saluted him, engaging in some desultory chat.

Horatio appeared to like the attention and held his head and tail proud while his master was polite, yet distant.

His presence in the company of a very striking young woman just added to the frisson of their interest. Lord Purfoy was aware of their prurience and tipping his hat, shepherded Eliza away.

They cantered up the slight incline towards Tyburn, Davey following at a discreet distance.

Eliza had only once before seen Lord Purfoy riding freely on Horatio and as she and her horse followed him, she marvelled at the bond between man and beast. Both were dark, big and proud and they moved with such fluid grace in easy unison; she recognised just how difficult they would be for her and Ohio to beat in the coming race.

But her eyes were more than professionally interested.

Raven Purfoy was surprisingly graceful yet muscular and imperious in the saddle and the sight turned her heart over in a potent mix of recognition and forbidden desire, for who was she to harbour such hopes of his regard?

They pulled their horses up in the shade under a stand of beech trees near the perimeter of the Oxford Road.

Lord Purfoy dismounted quickly and was by her horse’s side before Davey.

He offered Eliza a hand. ‘I’ve seen your trick dismount but I presume in that heavy skirt and riding side-saddle you’re not about to entertain us with another gymnastic feat? ’

Was he laughing at her? Eliza’s voice carried a hint of reproof. ‘That was not meant for your sight, my lord.’

His severe manner turned roguish and he surprised her with a chuckle. ‘I realised that. It made it all the more enjoyable.’

She unhooked her leg from the pommel and slid into his hands.

The intimacy of his touch never failed to quicken her blood from the first night when she recovered her wits after the accident to find him searching for her pulse.

This time he was not frantic but measured as he held her waist firmly for a moment, her feet still off the ground.

How easy it was for him to hold her thus, how light he made her seem and the thought of his unshowy strength thrilled her again.

‘Sir, please put me down. There may be others watching.’

‘Do you really think I give a damn, Miss Gray?’

‘No, but I do. When a woman has not the protection of wealth or family connection, her virtue is the only thing of value left to her.’

He swung her to the ground, chastened. ‘You’re right.

I can be cavalier with my own name in a way you cannot be with yours.

I apologise.’ He gave her his arm while Davey took the horses’ reins and followed at a distance.

‘It seems I have much to apologise for, Miss Gray.’ Eliza looked at him with a question in her eyes and he continued quietly, ‘Mrs Wolfe tells me my conversation with you in Bath was ambiguous and did not convey my meaning clearly enough. The lady you saw with me is Mrs Cornford, a widow whom I have known a long time. We offered each other a kind of friendship and esteem.’ He took a deep breath.

It was obvious he found this difficult. ‘She has not expected marriage from me and I have not been able to offer it.’ He looked into her eyes.

‘But it is you, Miss Gray, I was speaking of. And I am sorry for confusing the matter. I am myself confused, unused as I am to this tumult beating in my brain.’

Eliza was wary. She had reconciled herself to mattering little in his life and could not bear any further plunging disappointment.

He continued quietly, as if he barely understood his feelings himself, ‘For so long I’ve prided myself on my impervious heart, unmoved by either love or hate.

But now that resolve has cracked, the gates of my soul have opened and fear like an assaulting army has stormed in.

Fears of loss once more are hammering on my door.

’ His face had grown anguished with memory.

‘When I thought I had killed you with my horses, my heart stopped; you lay on the ground as lifeless as my poor sister had lain all those years ago. It once more felt like a repeat of that nightmare. But this time, I thank God you opened your eyes, filled with life, not dimmed by death. I knew then you would live, and that I had met my fate.’

Eliza’s chest was constricted as she faced the full import of his words.

She reached for his hand to try and steady herself; could she be hearing this right?

That in that moment when their eyes first met, he had recognised her as she had him?

In a voice full of wonder she asked, ‘Can it be you pierced through the careful mask I showed to the world and saw me for who I am?’

In answer he held her hand against his chest. ‘Feel that heartbeat, Miss Gray. No longer as slow as a hibernating bear’s, now racing like my hunting greyhound in the chase.

You have so unsettled me. My thoughts are filled with you by day and haunt my dreams by night.

How can I maintain sanity? What am I to do?

’ Eliza’s hand seemed to be vibrating in rhythm with his thrumming heart and the intimacy of that moment was all she had ever longed for; a connection soul to soul was hers at last, and she felt light-headed with joy.

His dark eyes were searching hers. ‘Desire and reason assail me. I see the right way and approve it, but then am mesmerised by your eyes and cannot but follow the wrong.’

Eliza’s hand was still held by his and she said quietly, ‘My lord, what is wrong with following your desires?’

‘No man is free without being master of himself. Detachment and reason were the gods keeping me from chaos. I fear untrammelled emotion; I cannot become a gibbering ghost of myself.’