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Amelia had been nervous at the prospect of speaking with Lord Thornfalcon, and alone too, but she had been obliged to own that, as his sister had impressed upon her both last night and on her arrival in Half-Moon Street, she couldn’t really expect to enter into such an extraordinary arrangement with a gentleman without having some private conversation with him first. Their engagement, if it ever happened, would be false and temporary, but there would inevitably be some sort of relationship between them, though it would be an odd connection and not what the world imagined.

And so she had not objected when Helena had said firmly that she intended to leave them alone together, and had done so.

He’d been shocked, of course, and had taken her up wrongly, though she had soon set that to rights and he had then apologised for his hasty speech.

She didn’t really blame him – it was apparent that he was labouring under a great deal of strain, and she understood that men could sometimes be foolishly reluctant to pay heed to ideas that originated with women.

But in the end, he had listened intently enough, a frown creasing his handsome brows.

She had meant all along to try to persuade him – her brothers could have given witness to the fact that she could be extraordinarily persuasive – but she had lost patience with the idea when it came to it, and gone straight to the heart of the matter.

Did he want her – or anyone – to set him free, or was the bond with his old love, destructive and dangerous as it was, simply too strong to break?

He was silent in the face of that stark question, and she feared she had overstepped the mark once more and would be obliged to endure another stinging reproach.

She could well imagine how his men and junior officers would go to great lengths to avoid incurring his displeasure; he might have been wrong in what he said to her, entirely mistaken in her intentions, and he had been merely lashing out in pain at the object before him, but all that did not render him any the less formidable.

And now she had encroached on ground far more personal, without any invitation or excuse, except that her question was the only one that signified.

If he really desired to marry his sister-in-law, Amelia was wasting her time, and might as well go home before her good name suffered any further damage from this scandalously unchaperoned meeting.

Against her will, and much to her displeasure, she found that she was trembling slightly. But she would not apologise or back down, having come this far.

He said after a long moment, ‘I suppose that is a reasonable question.’

‘And?’

‘I shall not speak of my feelings with you, except to say that they have been lacerated by what I have undergone since I returned to England and came into society. I do not intend to marry anyone at the present time, it is the furthest thought from my mind, and nor do I expect to change my fixed purpose in the foreseeable future. You will forgive me if I decline also to be more specific, or to mention any names in connection with your question. I think I have been plain enough.’

Amelia could not fail to notice that he still hadn’t precisely answered her.

How stiff he was, though he was sitting to all appearances relaxed in an easy chair.

She could not wonder that the caricaturists chose always to portray him in uniform; he seemed to be wearing it mentally, as if he needed it.

And perhaps this was all the answer she could expect, and all she needed, since it told her that even if some part of him, or all of him, longed to marry the woman he had once loved, and probably still loved for all she knew, he did not mean to do so.

It was not necessary to ask his reasons, since they were sufficiently obvious.

She said gently, pitying him despite his stature and his strength, and hoping she was not showing it too plainly, ‘If you did begin to woo me – to make pretence of wooing me – and then asked for my hand, the ladies who pursue you so would have to stop. Surely they would. There would be an explosion of gossip, at first, at this new and startling event, and perhaps it would be disagreeable for a time, but then it would subside and people would forget their romantic follies.’

‘I wonder if they all would?’ he muttered.

She could give no answer to that, and like him, she would not mention names – a name.

His brow lightened after a moment and he said, regarding her intently, ‘I must be sickening for something. A fever, perhaps. I should send you on your way and call my mother’s quack to come urgently.

I find myself on the verge of agreeing to your madcap scheme, even though there is a voice in me that screams that I must not, that I will live to regret it. ’

‘If you are hearing voices,’ she said tranquilly, ‘you should definitely call for the doctor, and take his physic, however nasty it is.’ She had won, she thought, but she was clever enough to show no hint of triumph.

Her heart was beating unaccountably fast, she now realised – she had been engaged in battle this half-hour, with a worthy opponent, and she had won.