possible, but without much awareness of what she said. She laid down her cup on the small round table by her chair, but it tilted alarmingly and the cup and saucer slid away as she watched, too tired and sluggish to even realise what was about to happen. But Lord Hunter leaned forward with a swiftness that made her jerk awake and caught the cup and saucer with a smooth motion.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, flushing, and his eyes moved over her, intense and questioning.
‘You’re tired. I’ll go see if Bassett is done.’
‘Please, don’t bother...’ she began, but luckily Bassett entered.
‘Miss Tilney’s room is ready, Miss Amelia.’
‘Thank you, Bassett. Come along, Miss Tilney. May I call you Helen, or is it Nell? Leave your cloak. Bassett will give it a good brushing. Goodnight, Gabriel. You may come by tomorrow.’
Nell allowed herself to be propelled out of the drawing room and up the stairs, resisting the childish urge to remain with Lord Hunter. It was a sign of how shaky she was that she was beginning to consider an irreverent rake a safe haven.
‘He wandered, lost and dreaming of his love...’
Hunter turned with a resigned sigh as a tall dark figure crossed the street towards him.
‘And so it begins. Want to lampoon me out here, Raven? Or shall we wait until you can entertain Stanton as well?’
‘Both, thank you. This merits quite a bit more ribbing than can be accomplished on a doorstep. Besides, I need a drink. I just walked over from Jenny’s and I’m frozen through.’
‘Didn’t she warm you sufficiently? Either you or she is slipping, Raven. Good evening, Dunberry,’ Hunter greeted Stanton’s butler.
‘Speaking of slipping, I frankly never thought you’d take the plunge; it was a bit of a shock to have that gossip in the Morning Post pointed out to me.’
‘For me, too.’
‘You don’t remember proposing? And here I thought you had a hard head.’
‘I remember proposing. Her father and I settled it four years ago but I thought common courtesy would require he speak with me before discussing it with gossip columnists. I didn’t appreciate Kate bringing it to my attention.’
Ravenscar winced.
‘I suppose she was peeved?’
‘I was too distracted by being “peeved” myself to notice and it rather ruined the mood, so I didn’t linger to chat...’
They entered the library and Stanton glanced up from the book he had been holding, but didn’t bother rising from the sagging armchair by the fire.
‘You’re late.’
‘May I have something to drink before you begin the catechism?’ Hunter asked politely.
‘Help yourself.’ Stanton waved towards a decanter on the sideboard. ‘What happened? You two having a hard time finding your timepieces amidst the tangle of sheets?’
‘Good God, Stanton, tell me you’ve read the papers these past two days,’ Ravenscar said with disgust.
‘Of course I read the papers. A great deal more closely than you do, Raven. What does that have to do with your mistresses?’
‘Other than the political pages,’ Ravenscar corrected, taking his glass and settling in his usual armchair, his long legs stretched out to the fire that shot his black hair with a jet sheen that made his name singularly apt.
‘In that case, no. Why, has something happened?’ Stanton’s blue eyes narrowed in concern.
‘Hopeless,’ Ravenscar murmured. ‘Shall I tell him, or shall you, Hunter?’
Hunter took his usual seat as well.
‘I wouldn’t deprive you of the pleasure for the world, Raven.’
‘Thank you. It appears we are to wish Hunter happy. He is betrothed.’
‘What? When? To whom?’
‘I think “Why?” might be more to the point,’ Ravenscar replied and Hunter sighed.
‘She’s Sir Henry Tilney’s daughter and heir to the Bascombe estate. Her father and I agreed on the engagement when I went to negotiate the water rights after old Bascombe died.’
‘Wait, I remember now. You bought Petra and Pluck from Tilney. Right after Tim’s funeral.’
Eventually this reflexive stiffening of his muscles at the mention of Tim would fade, Hunter told himself for the umpteenth time.
Stanton continued, his controlled voice far worse than Ravenscar’s jibes.
‘You’ve been engaged for four years and never once mentioned it.’
‘I didn’t mention it because the engagement was...conditional. The girl was just seventeen and Bascombe’s will stipulated she inherit only when she turned twenty-one. If she died before that, married or not, the property went to some cousin. Her father agreed that it would be unreasonable to expect me to commit to a public engagement until the inheritance was legally hers.’
‘And she accepted this cold-blooded arrangement? Well, you definitely have reached the mecca of complaisant and biddable brides, Hunter. I salute you.’
‘Not quite. I presumed her father would discuss it with her, but it appears she didn’t know about it until recently, and when she balked her father decided the best way to force her hand was to make it public.’
‘Just so I understand,’ Stanton said carefully. ‘You entered into this engagement without ever asking the girl to marry you?’
Hunter rubbed his forehead.
‘I couldn’t very well make any announcement at the time anyway because of Tim. So it made sense to wait until the main reason for marrying her became valid. She was only a child, for heaven’s sake, and the last thing she was ready to cope with at that point was someone else imposing their will on her. Her father and I agreed she would be better off remaining in the care of her schoolmistress as a boarder until she inherited. The corollary was that for the past four years we’ve enjoyed the best terms on the Tilney waterways in generations. I thought it was a damn good arrangement at the time.’
Stanton stood up himself and moved with uncharacteristic restlessness around the room.
‘Are you saying you asked her to marry you because you felt sorry for her?’
‘I told you, there were also the water rights. Put like that I know it sounds foolish...’
‘Foolish doesn’t begin to cover... Hunter, didn’t it occur to you that making such a decision just days after Tim’s death
