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Amelia and Marcus went back inside the Aubertin mansion of their own free will, not waiting to be fetched, with all the comment that would cause.

She couldn’t remember later if they’d discussed going back indoors or just done it by silent agreement.

If they appeared dishevelled or otherwise distracted after their time alone together on the terrace in the moonlight, nobody was tactless enough to tell them so, and she was grateful for it.

She then plucked up her courage and told their hosts that she was very sensible of their many kindnesses, but that she had always since childhood dreamed of being married at Wyverne House, and hoped that they would understand.

‘The tenants will all wish to attend, and the household staff, and the grooms and gardeners,’ she said winsomely, so sweet, she made herself feel slightly sick, ‘and it would be wrong, I think, to deprive them of that pleasure. There was a great celebration when my brother and Lady Wyverne were married, and we could hardly do less, I think.’ There was some truth in what she said, she realised as she said it, but as she wasn’t actually getting married at all, possibly ever, it didn’t signify in the least.

‘My dear child,’ said Sir Humphrey, much moved, ‘though I am sorry, of course, that you cannot find a way to accept our offer, your delicate feelings do you credit. Enormous credit!’ And he fished out his handkerchief and blew his nose with some energy.

Even Lady Aubertin appeared to find her words unexceptionable and unarguable, which couldn’t be a common occurrence, and there was no more talk of Thursday, much to her relief.

Lord Wyverne soon contrived it so that they all began preparing to take their leave, saying firmly that he could see that his sister was tired. They departed, interchanging many expressions of mutual esteem as they parted from their hosts and from the Thornfalcons in the marble atrium.

‘Do you, in fact, wish to be married at Wyverne House, Melia?’ Rafe said once they were safe in the semi-darkness of the carriage.

‘I can appreciate that you would have said almost anything that came into your head this evening to prevent our hosts from quite killing you with kindness, so I don’t know if what you told them was true. ’

‘Perhaps we can leave this discussion until a later date?’ Sophie suggested quickly. ‘It is important, I agree, but there is no need for such haste, and I think Amelia really is tired, as you said she was. I know I am.’

‘Very well,’ he responded readily. ‘It is exhausting to be the object of such relentless benevolence, it’s perfectly true.

I am positive they will give you a splendid wedding gift, Amelia – I heard Lady Aubertin muttering something about an epergne.

Surely you need nothing more to begin married life with than a truly monstrous silver epergne to set between you and Thornfalcon at the dinner table. ’

Amelia made some sound that could have been construed as agreement, and then thought better of it.

‘Rafe, please don’t question me, because I couldn’t bear it now, but the engagement isn’t real.

It never has been, and I wish now that I had told you long ago.

It was all a foolish ploy, to improve my reputation, and matters have become more and more involved, till we find ourselves in this ridiculous situation.

’ She could feel Sophie stirring, and knew she was about to take responsibility for it all, perhaps risking Rafe’s displeasure, and that was the last thing she wanted – more unnecessary conflict to be set at her own door.

‘It’s my own fault, nobody else’s, but I will put an end to it soon enough, I promise you.

Can we stop talking about it, I beg you?

If you are angry with me for being so reckless and need to tell me so, for which I wouldn’t blame you, I am sure it can wait. ’

Rafe was silent for a moment. ‘I understand you,’ he said gently, ‘and if Sophie and I should need to have a conversation on this topic, it shall be in private and nothing you should worry about for a second. But it’s the cursed legacy of our father, isn’t it, making our lives complicated again?

Damn him to hell, I wonder if we can ever be free of him?

No, I won’t say anything more, don’t worry.

Charlie, I can hear you thinking furiously beside me, and I promise I’ll explain, but let’s spare Melia, shall we? She’s been having a very trying time.’

Amelia, finding herself very close to tears, made a noise that she hoped Rafe would know signified her grateful thanks for his forbearance, and turned her head to gaze sightlessly out of the window at the passing lights, the familiar streets rendered mysterious by the moonlight and the sharp-cut shadows.

It was a lovely night still, but she felt thoroughly miserable and on edge, and could not appreciate it.

There would be no marriage, and no ridiculous epergne to celebrate it.

At least Rafe knew now – that was something to cling to.

It was plain that Marcus, though he desired her – he had said as much, in memorable detail that she was bound to believe – would not allow himself to be drawn any further into the coil that she had made for them.

The last thing in the world he wanted was to be trapped into marriage with her.

That was why he had called a halt to their…

intimacy. And it seemed to her that desire by itself meant nothing; it was certainly not enough for him to base the rest of his life and all his future happiness on.

Probably he, or any man, would desire almost any woman who flung herself at him as shamelessly as she had.

The artists ought really to be making prints about her , not other, much more blameless females.

They merely threw themselves from horses; she forced herself into his arms and…

and pressed herself against him. Seized his head and rubbed it… A moan of mortification escaped her.

‘What’s that, my dear?’ Rafe asked.

‘Nothing,’ she muttered. ‘Nothing at all. I merely have a slight headache.’

She went straight up to bed upon reaching home, and fell eventually into a restless sleep, full of confused and fragmentary dreams that sometimes showed Marcus doing all the things he’d said he wanted to do with her, and sometimes showed him pushing her away disdainfully so that she fell down endless flights of steps, from which he showed no inclination at all to save her this time.

Lavinia was there too, laughing at her in cold triumph as she tumbled down and down with no end in sight.

She was more tired when she woke than she had been the night before, and her feigned headache had become a reality.

And all of it was entirely her own fault.