will start a fashion in that case. It certainly cost me a pretty penny—double the usual rate and I had to pay for a dipper whose services I entirely dispensed with.’
Sara was wide-eyed. ‘You mean you really did swim? You didn’t just lurk under the awning of the bathing machine and duck yourself? Oh, my, every telescope in the town must have been trained on you.’
‘Certainly I swam. Out and around the point into the next bay.’ He gave her a significant look which made her blush deliciously. ‘I find I have a great deal of surplus energy to get rid of.’
‘I wish I could have swum with you,’ she murmured. ‘There are some coves along the coast where no one goes because the paths down are steep. If the weather is fine tomorrow—’
She broke off suddenly, the colour draining from her face as she stared out of the window at the promenade, lit by the hotel’s lights and a string of lanterns swaying in the light breeze.
‘Sara? What is it? You look as though you have seen a ghost.’ Lucian twisted in his seat, trying to see what she had seen, but all there was to be seen was the cavalcade of beach donkeys being led back to their stable, a gig drawn by a single horse vanishing into the distance and a few strolling couples.
‘I...’ She made a visible effort to compose herself. ‘I think I probably did. See a ghost, that is.’ Her laugh was utterly unconvincing.
‘A ghost? You mean your husband?’ Had their betrothal stirred up memories and feelings she had buried?
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, not Michael. Not the ghost of anyone dead, at least, I hope not. It was nothing.’ She stared at the salt cellar as though it held some vital significance, then took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘I am not going to be brave and independent about this. That would be foolish. Now we are betrothed I should tell you what worries me, share with you as I hope you would with me if something was wrong.’
Despite her words she stayed silent, not meeting his eyes. Lucian waited, forcing himself to patience until Sara took a shuddering breath and spoke. ‘I thought someone was watching the house last night when we arrived. It was a fleeting impression and I put it down to being half-asleep. But just now, the man driving that gig...his face was shadowed by his hat, but he was staring at us so intently...’
‘So is just about everyone else who passes by. It is someone being nosy, that is all,’ he said with relief, although the thought that someone was skulking near her house was concerning. He would deal with that later. ‘We are the talk of Sandbay and this bay window is well lit. I am sorry you find it intrusive, but I did not want to appear to be hole-and-corner about our being here together. Where’s that waiter? I will have the table moved.’
‘No, you don’t understand, Lucian. I thought it was someone I knew, I thought it was Francis.’
‘Francis?’
‘Francis Walton, Michael’s friend. The man who killed him in the duel.’
* * *
‘Hell.’ Lucian was halfway to his feet, a soup spoon went clattering to the floor and every head in the dining room turned. Lucian made a half-bow to the other diners and sat down. ‘My apologies,’ he said, raising his voice to carry. ‘Hot soup.’
‘He will be long gone.’ Sara held up her hand to stop the waiter who had started towards them, napkin at the ready. ‘Whoever it was. It is only my imagination. It must be,’ she added with what sounded like desperation to her own ears. ‘Francis fled abroad immediately afterwards. The coroner’s court gave a verdict of unlawful killing, so he cannot come back to England without risking trial.’
‘So how has he been supporting himself?’ Lucian paused while the waiter cleared the plates and brought a lobster in aspic. ‘Is he a wealthy man?’
‘No, he is the son of a prosperous squire. I think his family send money abroad to him.’ She shivered. ‘I have no idea why I should suddenly start imagining that I see him now.’
‘Has it ever happened before?’ Lucian seemed to realise that people were still staring so he began to serve the lobster. ‘Laugh, pretend nothing untoward is being discussed.’
Obediently Sara gave a trill of laughter and pointed to something outside on the promenade and heads turned back again. ‘No, never,’ she said, the artificial smile feeling as though it had been glued on to her lips. ‘Lucian—’ How to say this? ‘I do not think that becoming betrothed to you is the reason I am imagining this.’ If I am imagining it... ‘But I have thought more deeply about my first marriage, I must confess.’ She wondered if that offended him, but she was determined to be truthful.
‘It would be remarkable if becoming betrothed again did not prompt those kinds of thoughts.’ They ate their lobster in silence for a while, then Lucian said, ‘I have no intention of trying to replace Michael, Sara. I am a very different man, I think.’
‘Yes. You most definitely are.’ Sara pushed a tiny shrimp, trapped in a pearl of aspic, around her plate. ‘I was not ready for you before, when I was younger. I could not have coped with you, I think.’
‘Coped?’ His eyebrows lifted.
‘You are... You have responsibilities that Michael did not have and that gives you a maturity, an assurance. He was like a student in many ways and I suspect always would have been.’ And perhaps they would have grown apart as he became more immersed in his work, in the academic world. Looking back now, she could see it had already begun to happen. ‘He let me into his world, but he could not truly share it. Now, I think, I can move in yours fully.’
‘I am certain that you can.’ His smile was sudden, as warm as a hug. ‘But why not before?’
‘I was running away. This was a strange country, one where I was different. Ashe and my mother adapted to it, my father made himself into an English marquess by sheer force of will, but I saw only so many rules, so many traps and snares, so many disdainful smiles because I was not quite one of you.’
‘And now you are?’ The smile became teasing.
‘No, and I never will be. But now, you see, I do not care because I know who I am. I will be different and you do not mind, and I do not mind, and that is all that matters.’
‘I will drink to that.’ Lucian raised his glass as the waiters came to reset the table. ‘I thought we would not want a heavy meat course and so I ordered fruit and ices next. But say if you would like something else, won’t you?’
A month ago, Sara thought, she would have felt belittled by not having her opinion asked first. But now she realised that she did not have to be defensive. If she did not like his choice she would simply say so and Lucian would not be offended, would simply call the waiter over for her to order.
And if he was offended, why, then I would tease him for it, she thought, and he would smile that slow, lazy smile and I would fall even deeper in love with the man.
‘Fruit and ices would be delightful,’ she said and meant it.
‘To the Marchioness of Cannock,’ Lucian said, lifting his glass. ‘My perfect Marchioness.’
‘My perfect Marquess.’ She toasted him back and felt the familiar cold finger of apprehension trail down her spine. She was not perfect, she knew that only
