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They had been travelling for a day and night, breaking only to change horses. She had slept intermittently in the carriage, as had Andrew. She did not think her father slept.

She wanted to talk to Andrew but not in front of her father.

She wanted to say, do you really love me? And if his answer was yes, why did you not tell my father? And she wanted to ask, why did you say that to Kate?

When London’s skyline came into view relief flooded her.

Her father sat up straighter. ‘I shall take you to John’s. You may wait there with your mother while Lord Framlington and I obtain a licence.’

‘I’m not a child, Papa, you do not need to tell me to stay with Mama.’

A note of humour rumbled from Andrew’s chest, then his hand reached to his side and he coughed as his foot lifted off the seat and moved to the floor. He straightened his hat.

Mary ignored him.

‘I wish I had told you to stay with your mother these past weeks,’ her father said.

Mary watched through the window as the carriage driver negotiated London’s busy streets, an odd feeling in her stomach. Everything was the same yet different. The carriage halted outside John’s house – it is the same house, in the same street, but I am different; I love a man, and soon this will no longer be my home.

A footman opened the carriage door and dropped the step. Mary did not wait on the men to help her but stood, took the footman’s hand and climbed out. Her father descended in her wake and Andrew followed. Mary’s gaze caught Andrew’s. A shallow smile raised his lips and he winked, displaying his rogue’s, devil-may-care, armour.

She climbed the stairs to John’s front door. Andrew caught up with her, and his hand grabbed hers. ‘At least pretend you are happy to have me,’ he said to her ear.

Mary stiffened her spine and ignored his churlish stab.

Her father looked at them, but she did not think he had heard, certainly Andrew had not intended him to.

John and her mother met them in the hall. He did not smile and her mother’s eyes were red-rimmed from hours of tears.

Mary’s hand slipped free from Drew’s and she walked to her mother. ‘I am sorry, Mama.’ Her arms lifted to embrace her. ‘I did not mean to?—’

‘Fall in love,’ Andrew interjected from behind her in a belligerent tone.

Her mother glared past Mary, and their embrace was brief because Drew came towards them.

‘I am Lord Framlington, Lady Marlow.’ He held out his hand, in a forceful gesture. There was that look of deviltry in his eyes, and when her mother took his hand, he kissed the back of her fingers before releasing her.

Her mother stiffened. She dressed herself in solid steel when she was angry.

Andrew’s arm came about Mary’s shoulders, in a gesture that felt possessive not supportive.

Her father coughed, choking on his disapproval.

Mary silently apologised by stepping away from Andrew’s embrace.

‘Has John told you we’ve agreed to obtain a special licence?’ her father asked her mother. ‘I will take Lord Framlington now.’

‘I have spoken to a minister,’ John said. ‘He agreed to undertake the ceremony in Whitechapel. Shall I come with you?’

‘That is not necessary, he is hardly likely to run. He would not have her dowry, and that is all he wants.’ Her father spoke about Drew as though he was not there.

‘Not all…’ Andrew stated and threw her father a mocking grin.

Embarrassment warmed Mary’s skin. She didn’t like this Andrew.

‘We’re leaving,’ her father barked. Then he stepped forward, embraced her mother and kissed her lips quickly. ‘We will be back as soon as we can.’

‘I had a coach with no insignia prepared,’ John told her father.

‘Thank you,’ her father said.

As her father walked from the hall, Andrew’s eyebrows lifted and lowered, in a sort of goodbye and he nodded towards her and her mother with a tilted smile before following her father.

‘Why?’ John asked her the moment the porter shut the door behind them. ‘I suppose he lured you with a kiss or two. What else?’

‘John.’ Her mother stopped him. ‘Mary has realised her mistake, it will do no good rubbing salt into the wound. But, Mary, why did you not speak to me? I would not have judged. I would have helped you think this through.’

Mary looked up to the beautiful paintings on the ceiling, swallowing, fighting back tears.

Her mother touched her arm.

Mary turned to her. ‘You would have told me not to speak to him.’

‘For good reason!’ John shouted.

Anger screamed inside her. ‘Stop it! You never told me the reason! You never told me what he’d said to Kate!’

‘I did not think I needed to spell it out to you! I thought you would trust my word!’

‘He is nice…’ The Andrew she knew was.

‘I’m sure he was,’ John growled, ‘and I do not wish to know how nice!’

‘John,’ her mother challenged, ‘you will solve nothing by condemning her. It is too late for this. I just wish, I wish…’ Her mother’s voice broke and her eyes glittered.

Mary was overcome with guilt as she enveloped her mother in a firm embrace to comfort her. ‘Mama, I’m sorry?—’

‘I am not angry with you.’ Her mother wiped the tears away. ‘I am sad because you may suffer from this choice if Lord Framlington is as bad as John thinks.’ Her voice became a whisper as though emotions strangled her. ‘I know you must love this man. It is not an easy choice to elope. I know because I eloped with John’s father. I hope Lord Framlington loves you too, Mary?’

Mary had not known about her mother’s elopement.

‘Anyway,’ she said, waving away the questions Mary would have asked. ‘Whatever the outcome, unlike when I eloped, you are not leaving your family. We will always be here. Come upstairs, now, and let us find you something pretty to wear to your wedding.’ She took Mary’s hand.

A lump swelled in Mary’s throat as they climbed the stairs, emotions gathering. ‘Is Kate here?’ she asked.

‘No, she’s with the children at Pembroke Place. We left in the middle of the night. Eleanor sent word to me. She saw Miss Smithfield at a ball. She knew you were supposed to be with her and you were not.’

‘Does everyone know I ran away? Is Emily in trouble?’

‘I am sure she is. She lied for you. I have always trusted you. Why did you not trust me?’

‘She was charmed, Mama.’ Mary had not even noticed John walking up the stairs a few steps behind them. ‘I would lay odds he told her not to speak.’

Andrew had.

‘I would say he promised her devotion.’ John’s words echoed about all the shining marble in his cold hall.

She did not want to believe what John said but Andrew had become taciturn since her family found them.

When she reached the room she had been allocated last season, as a grown woman, she felt like a child again. ‘Mama, you do not need to help me. You can send a maid.’

‘No matter the circumstances, this is your wedding day, and it is a mother’s right to help her daughter dress.’