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Two days later, when Mary saw Lord Framlington enter the ballroom with his friends, she could recount how many hours and minutes had passed since he’d left her at the garden gate. Their secret had been bursting to break from her lips ever since. She wished to scream it aloud, to take her mother and father aside and say, I am engaged , to whisper it into her friends’ ears.

Her heart brimmed with joy.

Her family would be disappointed, and angry, but she would make them understand.

Last night she’d claimed a headache and kept to her room rather than eat dinner with them. She did not wish to face the guilt; she wished to hold on to happiness a little while longer. She’d hardly slept or eaten since then, but she was neither tired nor hungry. Her body hummed with impatient energy, waiting for the moment they would elope. Excited. Yet terrified of the moment her parents would discover her lies.

Her mother had come to her room this morning, sat on Mary’s bed and asked, ‘What is wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ she’d answered.

‘We heard that Lord Farquhar announced his engagement to Miss Pope last evening. Has this upset you?’

‘No. That is wonderful news.’

Her mother had not believed her denial. She kissed Mary’s cheek then promised she would always be there.

Mary hoped her parents would forgive her when they found out the truth.

She hoped too, when she and Drew returned, the two of them would be like Bethany and Daniel were now, surrounded by friends congratulating them.

Her gaze left her friends and looked to the far side of the ballroom, where he and his friends stood. They may as well be a battlefield apart, the chasm between their lives was so wide. But she would cross it.

A confident smile held on Drew’s lips then he said something to his friends and the group broke into laughter.

Something caught in her stomach, gripping at the cluster of nerves in her solar plexus. What had he said? Why had they laughed?

Lord Brooke and Mr Harper looked about them. Then Drew’s gaze searched the room. She guessed they were looking for her.

A woman approached them. Lady Kilbride, the Marquis of Kilbride’s wife. She caught Drew’s attention. Mary had seen Drew speaking to her before. His friends turned away, talking among themselves. Lady Kilbride rested a hand on Drew’s forearm as they spoke. He leaned forward to let her speak into his ear.

They turned together, and Mary’s heartbeat stuttered.

He escorted Lady Kilbride out through an open French door.

Mary froze as they disappeared into the dark night.

She’d heard rumours of Lady Kilbride, of her unfaithfulness. Was Drew her lover?

She did not dance the next set but told Daniel her slippers rubbed. He kindly stood out with her watching Bethany dance. Emily joined them as she did not have a dance partner.

Nausea rolled in Mary’s empty stomach as she struggled to make conversation.

Twenty minutes has passed when Drew and Lady Kilbride returned. She stopped mid-sentence: Lady Kilbride clutched his handkerchief in her hand.

‘Mary, what is it?’ Daniel looked over his shoulder, following her gaze.

Drew was hidden by the dancers.

Daniel looked back at her.

‘Mary, what is it?’ Emily queried her silence.

‘Nothing is wrong. Sorry, I lost my thread.’ Would he do that? Would he make love to Lady Kilbride after what they had done?

The dance ended and her other friends returned before Daniel or Emily could question her further.

Mary looked for Drew. He’d returned to his friends. Lady Kilbride elsewhere.

As Lord Brooke said something to Drew, Drew’s gaze caught Mary staring. A bitter smile twisted his lips. The expression said he knew she’d seen him with Lady Kilbride. Lord Brooke must have seen her watching and told Drew.

Mary turned to her friend. ‘Emily…’

Because Emily was uncertain of her place in society, she hated to offend, which made her a good confidant. ‘I wish to talk to a group of gentlemen I met the other night. Mama would skin me alive if she knew I was going to be so forward, but you will keep me company, won’t you? There is safety in numbers. There will be no harm done if we both speak to them, and I am sure your papa will thank me for introducing you to Lord Framlington and Lord Brooke.’

The naivety of Emily’s family meant she would not know the reputations of those men.

She conceded rather than actively agreeing. Mary added another deceit to her list.

She threaded her arm through Emily’s and led her across the room.

Lord Brooke saw them coming and turned to Drew.

* * *

Peter touched Drew’s shoulder. ‘You had better look sharp. You are about to become the victim of your fiancée’s wrath. The lady bears daggers in her eyes.’ Peter’s smile said he thought it a great joke.

Drew’s friends had joined him tonight not at his request, but of their choosing, insisting they should be given the opportunity to congratulate his future wife. Truthfully, they came to see him act the lover and humiliate himself. They were here to laugh at him – albeit good-naturedly.

Of course he had not told them his attempt at affection was genuine. That was for Mary to know and no one else. He would not make himself vulnerable to the whole damned world.

But his friends’ presence was welcome, especially as Peter had been able to warn Drew that Mary had seen him leave with Caro.

As she approached, the look on her face made it clear she’d misunderstood. Peter was right, a thunderstorm raged in her eyes. She probably did not know Caro was his sister, only a few people knew of their relationship. His family never acknowledged either of their bastards in public.

The pale blue satin Mary wore enhanced her eyes and made her hair and eyelashes look even darker, while the pearls about her neck made his fingers itch to touch her skin.

Kilbride had been up to his vicious games again and Caro had needed a shoulder to weep on. Her make-up had barely covered the bruises. As the family outcasts, they had turned to each other since childhood. He’d promised to intervene in her marriage a dozen times but she was too afraid of Kilbride. But when he married Mary he would have the money to get her away from Kilbride and hide her. Then he intended to insist she let him help.

Drew held Mary’s gaze as she walked the final steps, laughter tight in his throat. He smiled.

Her family be damned. The girl had courage to come across the room and tackle him.

He liked this side of her nature.

He even liked that she was angry over what she must consider his betrayal – it supported his belief that she would not behave like that.

But the poor little mouse of a woman on her arm…

‘Lord Framlington.’ Mary released her friend and dropped a too-shallow, insulting curtsy. Her friend lowered much further. Mary turned to Peter and dropped deeper too, saying, ‘Lord Brooke.’ Bless her, she was mocking him before his friends. The little firebrand. His future wife had a spirit beyond his hopes. He bit his tongue to prevent any sound of amusement escaping.

She acknowledged Mark and Harry too, then introduced the mouse she was using as her cover. ‘May I introduce Miss Emily Smithfield.’ It was like tossing a lamb into a dog pit. The poor child curtsied again. She was no match for Mary’s magnificent beauty, but she was pretty, with brown hair and brown eyes. She would, unfortunately for her, be of interest to his friends.

‘Lord Framlington.’ Mary ruthlessly dragged his attention back to her.

‘Miss Marlow.’ He bowed as insultingly as she’d curtsied to him, his smile broadening. He could not hold back his joy as he wondered if he would need to fight over who wore the trousers in his wedded bliss.

She opened her mouth to speak?—

‘Before you begin, Lady Kilbride is my younger sister.’ He kept his pitch cold, for the benefit of his friends’ ears.

The storm in her eyes blew out instantly. ‘Your sister?’

‘Yes, my dear, and you may wish to rescue your friend. It is rather rash of you to throw her to the wolves, Mary.’

She glanced at Miss Smithfield, then back to him and stuttered, ‘Forgive me. I… I… am sorry.’

‘I am not sorry. Your jealously heartens me. It bodes well for our future. It proves you care.’ A rakish pitch rang in his voice, but he cursed internally when he saw her blush and her eyes cloud with uncertainty – yet his friends were in earshot.

His fingers itched to stroke a curl back from her brow to reassure her – but he could not touch her here.

The first notes of a waltz began. Peter asked Miss Smithfield to the floor. The poor girl.

He would risk everything if he asked Mary, but he thrived on risk. He looked towards her family and caught her father’s glare.

Drew looked back at her and said quietly to avoid Mark and Harry overhearing, ‘Your father is watching, you had better go, but tell me one thing first, are your family busy any days in the next week or so?’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Not that I know.’

Drew caught Harry’s glance. He lowered his voice further. ‘I think it best if we leave after breakfast so we can travel during the day. Contact me when you know your absence will go unnoticed from morning until at least the dinner hour.’

She nodded, her gaze searching his expression, looking for proof of his loyalty.

His fingers lifted and touched the bare skin above her long evening gloves, his action hidden by her body so her father could not see.

She shivered.

‘You must trust that I love you.’ He was desperate for her to believe him, even though he did not wholly believe himself.

‘I am sorry, I misjudged?—’

‘It does not matter.’ The whole world misjudged him.

Mark moved closer. Drew threw him a look that said stay away .

‘When you have a date, I will send you the details of our arrangements.’

A shallow smile touched her lips as she nodded again.

Glancing past her shoulder, Drew saw her father striding towards them. ‘Your papa is coming, darling.’

She did not turn away, still defying her father.

A tight feeling clenched hard in his chest. ‘Go, sweetheart. Write soon and set a date. Then no one can come between us.’

‘I love you,’ she whispered before turning sharply as though she had been insulted and had just given him a scolding.

The words struck his gut like a punch. Good God , someone loved him. Someone who understood those words to their full depth. Lord, he adored her strength and resourcefulness.

Her father continued to look at him. The man could fume all he wished – he’d lost – Mary was Drew’s now.

Her father walked Mary back to her mother, where she would be guarded for the rest of the night.

‘I am wondering who has seduced who.’ Harry leaned to Drew. ‘Are you smitten?’

Drew turned. ‘I must look smitten; the girl wants a love match. Was that not the whole point of our letter writing? I must convince her I am affected or she will not have me.’

Harry’s needling cut. What Drew felt, or did not feel, was his own business. He did not like people knowing the boy at the heart of the rogue, the boy who only knew rejection and become a toy and a monster to be hated.

Mark grinned. ‘Well, I was convinced.’

‘Think what you will.’

‘I am going to play cards,’ Mark said and left.

Harry followed him, a smirk on his lips.

Marlow’s judgement irked more than Drew cared to admit. Pembroke had cause to be against him, but her parents had none. Marlow’s views were based on hearsay; he ought to wait until he knew Drew to make a judgement. It was another seed thrown to grow in the bitterness that was a tangled thorny briar inside him. He hated being rejected by people who thought themselves better than him.

Drew saw his elder sister Lady Elizabeth Ponsonby among the dancers.

His reputation had been sealed before his birth. His family had dictated it. He’d never had a choice. Wickedness was expected of him.

While Mary’s family tended towards happy-ever-after his family raced towards hell and Elizabeth was one of the worst of them. She danced with her latest adoring youth. She collected young men like other women collected hats. The poor chap. Drew watched her until the dance ended. As they walked to the edge of the floor she brushed the tip of her fan across his crotch. She was crass, but no doubt the boy thought himself in love as Pembroke had.

It was no wonder Pembroke judged Drew ill when he’d been entrapped by Elizabeth’s games. Pembroke had arrived in Europe with his eyes shuttered. Drew had been born with his eyes open, aware that promiscuity was not love.

Faithlessness, arrogance and self-gratification were all expected of him because that was the way of his family, and until he met Mary he lived up to every one of those expectations.

Across the room, Mary was being subjected to an interrogation. She shook her head again and again.

The vicious twist he had in his nature, the side of him that raged when he was rejected, liked her lying through her teeth on his behalf – standing up for him . Soon, Mary would be his to protect and her family could go to hell. Mary had accepted him, and if Marlow wished to throw stones then he would be throwing them at Mary too. That would teach the man not to judge.

Peter returned, with a devil-may-care expression. ‘Damn, that pretty Miss Smithfield is a gem. I must thank your future spouse for the introduction. I am taking her for a ride on my curricle tomorrow. Her papa is as rich as Croesus. Perhaps it’s time I considered a leg shackle too.’

‘You are rich enough, you don’t need her money.’ Drew shook his head. He would lay heavy odds Peter was not inclined to marry the girl but just wanted some fun.

‘True, but when a woman is so ripe for the picking…’

‘Remember she is Mary’s friend and play nice. For tonight, however, I vote we vacate and head for a club. I need a drink.’

Peter wrapped an arm about his shoulders. ‘Then let us find the others.’