AVAILABLE FILE FORMATS: HTML for the standard computer, PDF for Adobe Reader, Rocket for the Rocket and REB1100, MS Reader for the PC and Pocket PC, FUB for eBookMan, Mobipocket for Palm Pilot, Pocket PC, and eBookMan, and KML for hiebook

Chapter One

1815

Vanessa Marriott looked up at the large clock in Bath's main pump room and sighed. Bored didn't begin to describe the way she felt.

Her mother, sitting next to her with a glass of restorative water in her hand, glanced at her irritably. "Sit up straight, Vanessa! For goodness' sake, look more interested!"

Vanessa sighed again. Why should she? What good would it do? As the eldest daughter of a flock of six she'd seen ten seasons, and had no wish to see any more. Old news on the marriage market, she wearied of the way young mens' regard slid over her and on to the next girl. At twenty-eight, she no longer considered herself marriageable, and prayed her mother would allow her to stay in the country next year, instead of trailing around after her pretty sisters in Bath and London. She was far too old for this kind of thing.

There was only one reason she continued to allow her mother to drag her on the social round, and that was Emery Graham, at present staring at her from across the room. She wished he wouldn't stare at her so, it made their interest in each other so much more conspicuous, and her mother refused to consider the attachment. She took some solace from his presence, and smiled back at him for a brief moment.

A polite commotion at the far end of the Pump Room made Vanessa look up with curiosity. Her only brother George entered the elegant room, dressed in full regimentals. His entrance caused young hearts to flutter and set up a murmur of surprise. If he appeared handsome in civilian wear, the glittering regimental coat and tight breeches only served to increase the effect.

Vanessa gasped when she saw him and leapt to her feet. She ignored Mrs. Marriott's, "Vanessa! Do sit down!"

Propriety prevented her running, but she moved as quickly as possible to greet her beloved younger brother. "George!" she cried in distress. "What have you done!"

"Like it?" George moved his arms away from his sides so his sister could see him in his full military glory. The red and gold of his new uniform became his young, strong figure admirably, but in her mind's eye Vanessa only saw blood and dirt stain the bright tunic and George prone in some foreign battlefield. "George you mustn't do this!"

"Why not? Already done it," he said with a grin. He positively preened, and pushed one leg slightly forward to show off the fine musculature beneath the new cloth.

Vanessa knew he drew the admiring glances of all the young ladies present in the room, but he ignored them all in favour of his sister. For now, at least. Vanessa had no doubt he'd give his full attention to them later.

"You've seen the papers? Don't you know what that means?" Vanessa cried, deeply distressed and angered by her brother's sudden decision. He'd consulted no one.

"About Boney? Yes, he's escaped Elba and he's on his way to make more mischief," George replied with equanimity. "Don't you see old girl? Now's the time to make my fortune! The prize money will come in very useful, and you know I always looked good in red!"

Vanessa knew he only added the last, flippant remark to try to cheer her up, but she still felt distraught. "Oh, George!"

George took Vanessa's hand and placed it on his arm. "Walk with me," he commanded.

They strolled up the large room, just fast enough to deter anyone who might try to join them. "Truth is old girl," said George quietly, "All the equity's gone and it's this or the Fleet prison."

"You're in debt?"

"We're in debt, Vessa."

She didn't try to hide from his searching gaze. She was tense with worry for his safety; angry at his high handed decision.

"When we brought you girls out the expense nearly did for us. Agriculture's not what it used to be, so the estate won't support you all, and I never fancied the maritime life. So it's the army for me, old girl!"

"Are we bankrupt?" she said. She tried hard to keep face in this public area, but she felt herself frown. He should have told her before. She wasn't stupid, or some dewy-eyed miss fresh from the schoolroom.

"Not that bad. Your dowries are still there, and the estate's not mortgaged. But it's getting that way and Newmarket last week --" he drew a sharp breath between his teeth, looking away for a moment then he gazed back at her and smiled reassuringly. "We'll come about, never fear."

"George, you're only two and twenty!" Vanessa was only six years older than George, but felt like much more. Perhaps George's more optimistic nature made it seem that way. Vanessa always tended to see the worst of things; she saw disaster, where he saw opportunities. She was rarely wrong.

"You'd better sort out your preferences as well," George said. "You won't want to dwindle into an old maid, and live with Mama for the rest of your days. Any offers on the cards? Apart from Graham, I mean? You won't be able to afford him now."

Vanessa thought about what this meant, and tried to control the thoughts circling uselessly in her head. She'd hoped to retire to an independence in a few years, a small establishment of her own, while she waited for Emery to make his fortune. That had always been her dream. It didn't seem possible any more. She pushed her hopes firmly aside. Luxuries, not to be thought of any more. "One," she answered reluctantly.

"I'd like to see you settled before I go to France," George told her. "Who is it?"

Really, Vanessa thought, anyone would think he was responsible! "Lord Vesey."

"Vesey? That pill?"

"Pilgarlic," she corrected him. She discovered the word in a book in the circulating library the other day, and taken a fancy to it.

"Eh?"

"Pill's short for pilgarlic."

"Is it? Never knew that! Well, it don't signify. Which is it to be? Vesey or the country with Mama?"

Vanessa felt herself flush hotly. "How do you expect me to decide now?"

George turned his head and studied Vanessa seriously, his usual expression of cheerful carelessness replaced by grave concern. "You've spent ten years being chased by sundry men, and turned them all down, except that Graham chap, and you can't have him. You've got to make up your mind now. Especially now," he added in an undertone. They continued to walk.

"Four isn't sundry," she replied. "There was Emery, then one was sixty, one was idiotic, and the other is --" she broke off when she saw the man in question.

Lord Vesey strolled towards them, his unhurried pace not disguising his object. His imposing figure created quite a stir amongst the young females present. He'd asked Vanessa to consider his proposal three days ago, and Vanessa had been surprised, even shocked by it. Her mother knew of it, and was putting her under increasing pressure to accept, but Vanessa was determined to make up her own mind. She would face the inevitable consequences of her refusal later -- if she refused him.

She'd never considered Lord Vesey a possibility before his surprising proposal, thought him not the marrying kind. He was thirty-two and never gave any woman hopes before. Vanessa couldn't imagine why he'd offered for her. His proposal had been perfectly proper, with no hint of passion, or the regard Vanessa considered necessary to a successful union.

Vanessa released George's arm while they made their bows, and then reclaimed it, not willing to let go of him for longer than she needed to.

"Had the courage of your convictions, Marriott?" asked his lordship. Not the hint of a smile marred his stern features.

"Something like that," said George. "Leaving for France this month."

Vanessa paled and would have clutched her brother in alarm, had she not been so well schooled in correct behaviour. "This month! Oh George!" She feared for her little brother, her deepest point of vulnerability.

"I too must take my leave sooner than I thought," his lordship said smoothly. His glance passed over Vanessa, who tried to keep her face calm. She didn't know why his presence disturbed her so, made her mildly agitated inside. Perhaps it was his undeniable good looks, or his excellent address. Or the proposal. "I have to leave for Vienna shortly. Castlereagh wants me back."

"Espionage?" said George, a gleam in his eye that Vanessa mistrusted.

"Let's say diplomatic," his lordship replied with an enigmatic smile.

While her brother and her suitor talked, Vanessa finally made up her mind. She couldn't let her little brother face Boney on his own; she must go with him. Moreover, she couldn't bear to live immured in the country with her mother. If she didn't take this alternative course there seemed no other path for her. She loved Emery deeply but there seemed as much chance of him making his fortune this year as there was last year: none.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "My lord," she said quietly, "may I have a private word with you?"

His head whipped round to stare at her; a light dawned in his eyes, instantly controlled again. "Of course, Miss Marriott," Lord Vesey replied at once. "Please, walk with me."

Vanessa transferred her hand from her brother's arm to his without hesitation. George frowned at his sister doubtfully. She smiled blandly back to show him her complete satisfaction with the bargain she was about to make. Now it came to the sticking point she was the calm one, George the doubter.

They bowed and left George Marriott to his many female admirers, who approached him in a playful way, all of them smiling flirtatiously. Even Vanessa had to admit he struck a very fine figure in his new regimentals.

"Seal fishing," Vanessa commented dryly.

Lord Vesey stared at her in blank astonishment. She explained. "I went up to Scotland once, to my aunt's house there, on a visit. I saw some men seal fishing. They trail the bait behind the boat, and the seals follow, with every expectation of treats to come. George's uniform is the bait."

His amusement showed in a flash of white teeth. "You should have been a novelist, Miss Marriott. A descriptive passage Monk Lewis himself couldn't have bettered."

"I did think of it," she said brightly. "But I didn't think I could make my living at it, so I put the idea aside. I like to render an account of my experiences, just for myself, you understand. I keep an extensive journal."

"I should like to see some of those descriptions," he said. "I thought of the young ladies as kittens. The seal analogy has so much more to it than that."

Slowly, inexorably, he led her out the crowded Pump Room, away from the excitements of the rich at play. She nodded to one of her erstwhile admirers, a Mr. Taylor, on the way out, and remembered why she'd refused his flattering offer of marriage last season. He wasn't an idiot, as she had described him to George a moment ago, but any temptation to accept him had been killed by her vivid imagination. The thought of his short, chubby figure dressed in a nightshirt, holding a candelabrum by her bedside, his pale blue pop-eyes gazing at her in lascivious delectation killed her acceptance stone dead.

Vanessa stole a glance at Lord Vesey and tried to imagine him in the same situation. She felt sure he wouldn't gloat, as she was sure Mr. Taylor would have done, but he might stare at her in that deep, thoughtful way of his. His tall, well- muscled figure was certainly more attractive than Mr. Taylor's. She found it hard to go any further with that thought when her breath caught in her throat. She hurriedly pushed it away from her. She felt the strong muscles of his arm under the fine cloth of his well-cut coat. She deliberately stopped herself thinking about what was underneath. She was determined to do this, for George more than for herself. If Vesey were going abroad and she were his wife, she'd go too, and then she'd be closer to her brother. The only son of Mrs. Marriott, George was the hope of the house, and besides that, she loved him dearly.

Once out in the open, Lord Vesey led her away from the crowds. They walked at a comfortable pace, and exchanged small talk until they approached a pleasant house not far from the Pump Room, set in a small side street; one of many in a long line of fashionable residences. His lordship produced a key and they went in.

A footman, surprised to see his master home at this time of day, stood up from his seat on one of the hard hall chairs. He took Lord Vesey's coat, hat and gloves. Then he accepted Vanessa's hat, gloves, and the thin shawl that was all she had in the way of protection against the sharp wind coming in from the hills that day. Vanessa repressed an urge to rub her hands against her chilled arms. She knew the goose pimples stood up on them.

"Is the fire lit in the drawing room?" his lordship asked, and Vanessa wondered if he'd noticed her discomfort. He hadn't seemed to.

"Yes my lord, but Ecarte is in there."

Vanessa lifted an eyebrow in silent query.

"My chef," explained his lordship with a wry grin. "He cooks divinely but his tantrums are devilish."

"The small front parlour is warm and empty, my lord," the footman said helpfully.

Lord Vesey gave his servant a small, courteous nod. "Thank you."

He led Vanessa into the room at the front of the house. It was quiet here. Vanessa heard the hooves of the occasional horse when it passed by the house, and the crackle of the welcome fire, but nothing else. The room was filled with the kind of furniture that at once proclaimed it as a hired house, one of the many procured for a few weeks in the season when Bath became fashionable, though Brighton had long since overtaken it as the place to go. Good quality, not the best, and with no particular style, no personal preference. Of course, his lordship might take no interest in his surroundings, might be one of those men who never noticed, much as her father had been, but for some reason she couldn't define, she doubted it.

The silence fell heavier while she marshalled her words. "My lord," she said suddenly, "Your offer -- the other day --"

"I remember it," he said evenly. He stood a few steps away from her and watched her steadily, no expression in his dark eyes. He wasn't making this any easier.

Vanessa swallowed. "I have thought about it, and... and if you please, I would like to accept." There, It was done! Not the most elegant acceptance, she knew she'd rushed the last few words, but she'd done it.

Unhurriedly he came forward, took her hand and kissed it softly. She shivered, and wondered why, since physically she felt a lot warmer, thanks to the fire.

"Thank you," he said. "You make me the happiest of men."

Vanessa stared at him wonderingly. Did he know why she'd changed her mind? Did he think she had more than an ordinary regard for him? She didn't know. She knew she liked him; even his sternest mien was a welcome change to some of the vacuous young men who'd approached her in recent years. She knew she could stick to the bargain she made with him. It was one of her reasons for choosing him. She also knew that if he gave his word to her, he would keep it. His reputation was for straight dealing, and if he promised something, it inevitably came to pass. He didn't make too many promises.

He was going abroad, and so was her beloved George. Would Vesey take her? She didn't yet know what kind of wife Vesey was looking for; the complacent type who had babies and lived in the country, or a partner for his diplomatic activities. She hoped for the latter, but either would be better than what she had now.

Vanessa loved George so much, and the action she was about to take both removed the financial burden from her brother's shoulders, and gave Vanessa a valid excuse to follow him. If his lordship wanted a diplomatic wife. Somewhere deep inside she felt it was wrong, to marry a man for the financial security he brought to her, but this was the way her society operated, and she only followed its dictates. If Society didn't want her to do that, she thought savagely, they should have given women more security of their own. She hated herself at that moment, and then she studied Lord Vesey, and pushed her venal thoughts aside. Perhaps there was something else. At least she liked him, although she didn't know him very well.

"Can it be soon?" she said.

"As soon as you wish," he replied, and at last moved to her, and drew her to him.

***

Mrs. Marriott had told the butler she was not at home to anyone but his lordship. When she saw the crested, luxurious carriage come up the street she'd dispatched all Vanessa's sisters upstairs to their rooms and waited for the news. When she heard the slam of the front door she waited expectantly in the drawing room until the door opened to admit her eldest daughter

"Vanessa, at last!" she cried. "I didn't dare hope when I saw you leave with him, but I thought you were merely furthering your acquaintance -- allowing him a few liberties --"

Vanessa blushed scarlet. "Mama! I wouldn't dream of leading a man on in that way!" For a woman of her age, Vanessa had been kept innocent of all but the basic facts of life. Her mother had seen to that. Virgins were virgins, and should come to their husbands' beds ready to be taught.

"Well, my dear, you've been on the town an age, so long, in fact, that I presumed you would never marry!" Mrs. Marriott threw her light shawl over a nearby chair. She never felt the cold. At least fashion was beginning to veer away from the gauzy nothings of ten years ago towards slightly more substantial garments, but short sleeves were still de rigeur for young girls. The lady was nothing if not a dedicated fashionable. She walked towards Vanessa, both arms outstretched to take her in her arms.

"Tell me all about it! Does he love you?"

"He says he holds me in warm regard, Mama, and he repeated his proposal."

"And?"

"I accepted him," Vanessa said colourlessly.

"Oh Vanessa! Just what I always hoped for you! Money, address, town polish..." she clapped her hands together in delight.

Vanessa appeared strangely flat for a young lady who had accepted one of the most eligible bachelors on the town. "He says he's had me in his eye for some time."

"Then why didn't he come forward before?" her mother demanded in an exasperated tone. "Had you in his eye? That makes you sound like some kind of bird! Do you remember our old curate, Mr. Thorpe?" she went on seamlessly.

Once Mrs. Marriott had started, she was hard to stop. Vanessa knew better than to stop her. "He loved birds, spent hours in the fields with his spying-glass and that little book he used to carry! Such a charming man! But too old, and no family," she added regretfully. Mrs. Marriott was accustomed to thinking of every man as either eligible for one of her daughters, and therefore interesting, or ineligible and uninteresting.

"He wants us to be married soon," Vanessa told her. "He has to go to Vienna. We needn't go through France, he says."

"France!" her lady mother exclaimed in horror. "That dreadful country! To be sure, in my parents' time it was the place to go, but nobody goes there any more!"

"Only soldiers and diplomats." Vanessa sipped again, watching her mother over the rim of her dish.

Mrs. Marriott met her cool regard with one of her own. "Oh...oh yes!" she said, remembering. "He does do something for the government from time to time, doesn't he? He wants to take you?"

"It seems so."

Mrs. Marriott felt exasperated at Vanessa's coolness and lack of interest. "It must be for him to say. You must do as he bids you." This was such a wonderful opportunity, quite making up for Jane! She'd almost cast off Vanessa's sister Jane when she married for love last year. The man was a lowly clergyman, only just given his first living, but their happiness in each other was plain to see, and it was only the knowledge that she had lost one of her burdens that kept Mrs. Marriott on speaking terms with her daughter. She liked to think her control over her children was absolute. She would never admit for a minute that she hadn't known about George's decision to join the army, but there would be a rumpus when she confronted him. Her son had beaten a hasty retreat from the Pump room before his mother caught up with and confronted him.

The doorbell rang. After a few moments, Fisher, the butler, came in with a small card on a silver tray. "He has gone, madam," he said. "I told him you were not at home, as you instructed."

Mrs. Marriott took up the piece of pasteboard, and after only one glance at it, threw it into the fire. The white card fluttered on to the cold, black coal. "Mr. Emery Graham," she said with disdain. "We won't be needing his friendship any more. Whatever made you encourage him, I can't imagine!"

"I like him, Mama," Vanessa said calmly. "He makes me laugh."

Her mother made a small sound, indicative of dismissal. "He has no money. He'll never look after you as Lord Vesey can."

"He has expectations."

Vanessa's voice was calm, Mrs. Marriott was pleased to note. Perhaps her daughter had got over her ridiculous tendre. She put Graham to the back of her mind. He didn't matter any more.

"Pish! Most of the well-dressed young men in Bath have expectations, but only half will ever receive anything! Most have frittered away their inheritances before they receive them on --"

"Chasing young ladies?" Vanessa enquired mildly. She stared at the card in the grate.

Her mother threw up her hands. "Who cares! It's becoming harder and harder to get a girl respectably settled these days, but thank the Lord I only have four left now!"

"Mama?" ventured her daughter, animation returning to her face. "Why did you never marry again?"

Her mother regarded her daughter with disbelief and laughed in derision. She was in her late forties, widowed for ten years now. Despite her hair owing more to artifice than to nature, and the lines on her face increasing more than they used to, she thought she might have made an older man a very good wife. Many women her age had given up, let their figures spread, their clothes date, but Mrs. Marriott still made the effort. She glanced complacently at her reflection in the mirror, and then remembered where her efforts had got her and suppressed a sigh. "I tried," she admitted. "But what man in his right mind is going to consider a woman with six daughters to settle? I have nothing to bring to a marriage, nothing except myself, and these days, Vanessa, that's not enough! You've made a very good match here, and don't ever forget it!"

The front door slammed and a male voice in the hall announced George's return. Mrs. Marriott carefully set her face into lines of disapproval. Vanessa put her tea dish down and stood up, ready to leave the room.

George came in beaming from ear to ear, his new uniform gleaming bravely in the late afternoon sun that streamed through the windows of the small parlour.

Mrs. Marriott cried out "George!" and carefully collapsed into a dead faint on to the sofa behind her. She'd perfected her technique over years. It never let her down.

"What have you been saying?" George demanded at once of his sister.

Vanessa knelt down at her mother's feet, lifted them on to the sofa. "Nothing!" she replied. "She's very pleased with me, I've accepted a flattering offer of marriage this morning! Look at yourself, George!"

George glanced down at the elaborate gold froggings on his tunic. "Oh Lord!" he exclaimed. "I forgot I hadn't told her! She saw me in the Pump Room!"

"You think she would have fainted then? She might be angry and upset with you George but Mama has never lost sight of the proprieties!"

***

Vanessa left the room. Her mother had recovered, and immediately began to berate George for his stupidity and rashness. Heartlessly, she left him to his fate. She wanted to go upstairs to see her sisters and tell them the news, but she heard a sound from the small office on the ground floor and turned her head to see what it was.

"Vanessa!" A voice she knew well.

The footman stationed in the hall gave no sign of hearing. Vanessa blinked in surprise at the open door of the bookroom. Looking more closely at the footman she realised it was Pearce, one of the older family retainers. He always had a soft spot for Vanessa. She smiled at him in silent gratitude and went into the bookroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

Emery seized her and kissed her. Two men in one day! However this kiss held all the passion Lord Vesey's had lacked, and held the savour of familiarity. He didn't let her go when he'd done, but held her tenderly, gazing down at her face. "Oh Vanessa!"

She met Emery's loving gaze gravely. "Emery!"

Emery Graham was a younger son. His family was good, his credentials excellent. The only thing that had prevented him from formally offering for Vanessa was his poverty. For years, he'd tried various professions, but none suited, and now he was pursuing a seat in Parliament. Vanessa loved him, but she would never do what her sister Jane had done, defy her formidable mother to marry the man she loved. Besides, Jane's husband had a living, could look after her and had prospects of better things to come. Emery had nothing. His expectations were too nebulous for any confidence to be placed on them. Vanessa was astute enough to realise that a couple must have something to build on, apart from love. She enjoyed his attentions. Even the clandestine meetings had the warmth of familiarity.

Vanessa reached her hand up to touch Emery's cheek. He caught it and held it there. His warm, blue gaze never left her face. "My love! I have something to tell you, something which might help us, but you must promise to wait."

"Emery, I have news too." She broke the potent spell, looked down at his chest. She couldn't meet his eyes. "I am to be married."

"Dear God!" he exclaimed, releasing her. His accusing stare was in such contrast to his loving gaze of a moment ago, she couldn't meet it.

She stood there, feeling unprotected, completely alone. "I've accepted Lord Vesey's offer."

"I thought you said you'd never think of him in that way!" Emery was angry, distressed, his bitter disappointment scorched her spirit.

She tried to explain. "I have to. We're near bankruptcy, Emery. I can't let the family down."

"The family! Why should you be beholden to them?" His voice filled with scorn.

"Just because they are my family," she said. "George used the last of our ready money to buy a commission, and kit himself out for the army. He's ready to go to France and make his fortune."

"There's a coincidence," Emery spat, his mouth twisting. "I'm going abroad too."

"Not the army!" Despite her determination to give Emery up, Vanessa ached at the thought of both the men she loved putting themselves in danger.

He stood a little apart from her, not offering to hold her any more. "No, not the army. I have a message to deliver to someone. Lord Hareton has said that if I undertake this commission successfully, he'll put me up for the House at a future date."

"Oh Emery!" her heart went out to him, she couldn't bear it. "You might be killed!"

"I doubt that," he said wryly. "It might come as a welcome release if I am after what you've just told me."

They stared at each other for a few moments in silence, both beyond words, until her beloved managed; "Can't you change your mind? Tell your mother you want to wait for me?"

"I could," she said, "But it wouldn't help very much." She turned away, unable to bear the hurt she saw in his face. They'd waited for six years now, ever since the first night they had met at Almack's, and she had fallen for a handsome face and a pair of guileless blue eyes. Her mother accepted him as a hanger-on, a handsome accessory for her daughter, but she never took his proposal seriously.

"You won't be salaried, or not enough," Vanessa pointed out. "It might be years before you can afford to support a wife. Oh, Emery, I can't wait any longer!" She blinked back the tears. Now was not the time.

There, it was out. All the waiting, all the hoping was turning her sour. She was sure of it. Not for one minute did she doubt Emery's devotion to her, but she couldn't wait any longer. If the Marriotts had come to the end of their fortune, and the opportunity to help repair them was thrown in her way, she had to take it. To hope for love was foolish, not for her to pursue any further. There were other things. Security, a family of her own, something to work for.

She saw the desperation, the hunger in his eyes. "Marry me now," he urged. "Come away with me, now, tonight. Let them all go hang!"

She loved that romantic side to him, but she knew it wouldn't do. "I can't live like that, dependent on the kindness of better-off relatives and friends!" she cried. "We'd be at each other's throats before too long, would never be happy!"

"No, no," he protested. "I'll always love you, Vanessa, always!"

He held out his arms, and heedless of anything else, she went to him. They closed tight around her and once more, she lifted her face for his kiss.

That was when the door opened. They broke apart, but not soon enough. Lord Vesey stood in the doorway, a cynical eyebrow raised. "Am I disturbing you at all?" he said.

Chapter Two

Vanessa flushed bright red, and Emery stammered for a moment before he finally bowed and hastily left, closing the door behind him. Vanessa thought it was cowardly of him to leave her like that, but when she considered the alternative, she realised he might be right. Vesey had the right to call him out, and that action created scandals many a woman had found hard to live down. She had to stay and face whatever was to come. She folded her hands neatly before her and waited.

"I thought there was something wrong," his lordship said, his voice clear and emotionless, "when your footman objected most strongly to my waiting in here, and almost barred my way. Didn't you hear him raise his voice?"

Vanessa shook her head, mutely, head bowed. After that first stony stare, she didn't think she could face her betrothed. His voice reached her, clear as cut glass. "He was trying to warn you, my dear girl. I came to pursue the matter we discussed earlier, but perhaps there is no need. Can this...affecting scene I just witnessed indicate that you would rather bestow your affections elsewhere?"

Vanessa took a few deep breaths and then met his eyes. She hadn't realised that brown eyes could be so cold before that moment. "No sir," she said quietly. "We made a bargain, and I will stick to it. If you will allow me to. I was merely saying goodbye to Mr. Graham."

"Someone told me Graham's been hanging around you for the last few years," Vesey said, still stiff, still cold. "I hope you realise I won't allow that, if you marry me. Not, at least, until an heir has been produced."

She shivered. "Is that why you proposed to me?"

His regarded her, insultingly assessing. "For an heir? Partly." He moved farther into the little room. She stood her ground, but she felt his powerful presence, his strong shoulders only emphasised by the superb fit of his blue superfine coat. "If I'd wanted a brood mare, I would have asked one of your younger sisters." She flinched at this cruel reminder of her age. "I also want a creditable wife. You have breeding, countenance, all the things a successful politician's wife must possess. When we have settled the matter of the nursery, you may go your own way, but until then... If you wish to proceed, you must be pure, cleave -- as the marriage service says -- only to me. Is that understood?"

Now Vanessa was angry. She knew she was more than that, a suitable wife, a prospective mother. Perhaps not to him. "Perfectly," she answered. Her chill now matched his; two could play at that game. "Emery has been devoted to me for years, but he has nothing. He's never have enough to make me a respectable offer. Not one my mother would accept, anyway."

"No prospects? So you're accepting my offer for venal reasons?" his expression was perfectly still. Vanessa couldn't tell what he thought, or what he would think of her answer.

"Partly." She wanted to pay him back for his insults of a moment earlier. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, neither revealing anything of the turmoil inside, and then Vanessa's innate honesty took over. "Partly because I'm bored."

Suddenly his gravity broke and he let out a crack of laughter. "Ha! Bored?"

Recklessly she decided to be frank with him. Somehow, she thought he might prefer it to all the dissimulation he must cope with day after day. "I've waited for Emery," she told him, "and been good for years and years and years. You have no idea what it's like. I'm berated day after day for refusing perfectly good offers for capricious reasons. I've watched my sisters come into their own. I've read improving texts, been good, and done good works. I've done everything expected of me, and if I have to do any more I'll go mad. Yes, my lord, I'm bored."

"Well," he said in a warmer tone. "I think I can offer you a little more than that! Boredom will leave you if you marry me!"

"Then you will forgive me my lapse of a moment ago?" She hated calling it that, but in honesty, that's what it was. She had betrothed herself to this man, and then seen another privately. Many men would repudiate her for that. Not, it seemed, Lord Vesey.

"If," he replied slowly, "it is as you say, and you were saying goodbye, then it's reasonable. I myself had to bid someone goodbye, for much the same reason."

"You have a mistress?" She wasn't surprised. Most men had a mistress.

"Had," he said. "Until a couple of days ago. She'll be taken care of, but we have parted. Did you expect me to come to you celibate?"

"I have to come to you that way," she said without thinking.

He laughed again, delighted by her honesty. "That, as you very well know, is for an entirely different reason. Good God, imagine if unmarried women behave as men do!"

"It might be better," she said. "It might be an improvement!"

"Certainly a challenge," he replied. "But I can't really imagine it, nor the sort of society that would condone it. We are as we are, my dear, and we have to cope with things as we find them."

"A diplomat's answer!"

"Very much so." He studied her through narrowed eyes for a moment in silence, which she bore with fortitude, and seemed to come to a decision. "I'll go and sort things out with your brother, and send a notice to the Post for the morning. It's the end of the Season, but I think we'll muster a fair wedding breakfast between us." He paused. "They didn't want to let me in to see your mother right away. Do you know why?"

"Mama fainted when George confronted her in his army uniform." She would let him make what he liked of that.

"I see. Do you think she has recovered by now?"

"I'm sure of it, once she discovers you're in the house. She'll be graciousness personified."

"I thought that was her daughter." He lifted her hand and dropped a kiss on the back of it. "Or perhaps that's simply grace." He bowed to her and went to find George.

Left on her own, Vanessa sat down to think. She didn't know what to make of him. The last flash of amusement seemed to belie her previous judgement of him as a humourless man, something she was glad of, but she still didn't know him at all.

Lord Vesey had appeared last year, taken London by storm after spending so long abroad, had driven hopeful mamas crazy when he made it obvious he was actively seeking a bride, but then seemed unable to make up his mind. His standards were exacting, and he hadn't made a choice before Christmas. It seemed he was playing with the idea, not entirely serious, and many put him down as a dangerous flirt. Now the Season was in full swing, and either he'd tired of the game, or his summons back to Vienna had given him the impetus he needed to make his selection.

Vanessa had no idea why he chose her, when he could have had anyone it pleased him to ask. Perhaps her age counted for her, giving her the maturity other, younger girls lacked, or perhaps he wanted someone of little influence, someone to mould. This was the biggest chance Vanessa had ever taken, and she was only just beginning to understand what she had started, by impulsively accepting his lordship's offer. The future course of her life was now set, for better or for worse, by an impulsive decision taken in Bath's Pump Room.

***

That night at the Assembly Rooms, Mrs. Marriott was in her element. Even though Lord Vesey was absent, the thing was settled and Mrs. Marriott felt justified in letting the whole of her acquaintance into the good news, aware it would rapidly spread across Bath, and from there through the whole of fashionable society. The rumours would probably spread so fast they'd beat the announcement in the "Post."

Vanessa felt strangely detached. She accepted the congratulations of her mother's friends with perfect composure, and watched her contemporaries' reactions with a more jaundiced eye. Many didn't hide their chagrin when they heard Vanessa had finally made up her mind to ditch the attractive but penniless Emery Graham, in favour of the richer, and equally attractive, Lord Vesey. Many had aspirations in that direction themselves.

Most shrugged, congratulated Vanessa and turned aside to pursue more promising quarry, but one or two did not.

Miss Agatha Thirske was particularly put out, as she'd thought she'd almost brought his lordship up to scratch. Vanessa heard her tell her particular friend, Miss Evensby; "I don't know what made Lord Vesey offer for Vanessa Marriott. She's quite a fright these days, in those white gowns her mother insists she wears, just as though she is eighteen and fresh out of the nursery! I didn't know anyone took her seriously any more! I was quite expecting to see her in puce next season, sitting with the rest of the spinsters in the card room!" Since she was quite close to Vanessa at the time, and didn't bother to lower her voice, no one had to relay the information to the subject of Miss Thirske's displeasure. Miss Thirske was a stately blonde girl, fully four years younger than Vanessa, and an accredited beauty. Vanessa's rain straight dark hair and pale face did not fit the conventional style, although, as Miss Thirske had been heard to admit, "her skin is good and she has all her teeth."

Vanessa wasn't used to the kind of attention she received this evening. She spent a great deal of her time seated next to her sister Lydia, a plump, pretty damsel of twenty six, but to Vanessa's surprise she was solicited to dance several times, mainly by married men. She soon realised why. She was fair game, if willing. By her simple acceptance of Lord Vesey's hand that morning, she had moved into a new world, one where fidelity (after, as his lordship had been kind enough to explain that afternoon, the nursery had been filled) was an optional extra. Although not flirtatious by nature, the subtle innuendo and unspoken promise of this new game enchanted her, and she felt in control as never before. She had no intention of taking any offers up, she'd promised her betrothed and meant to keep to it, but the power such flirtation gave her new to her, and very welcome.

Two of her past suitors, who had left her for pastures new and wed other ladies, approached her and paid her flattering attention which she was not naïve enough to misunderstand. They had, with gentlemanly consideration, previously left her to pursue available men, but they were quick to stake their claims on her now. Sir Digby Ollerenshaw brought her a glass of orgeat, and sat down by her side.

Vanessa smiled mechanically. "I hope marriage suits you, sir?"

"Tremendously," came the ready response. "I might have done it years ago, had you accepted my offer. I thought you were waiting for that Graham fellow? That's the only reason I gave up." His darkling glance at Mrs. Marriott, taking the floor with an elderly gentleman, spoke of another reason.

"I waited long enough," Vanessa replied. True enough, as far as it went, but her heart ached when she said it.

"So I should have persisted."

"How do you know I haven't developed a tendre for Lord Vesey?" she demanded.

He wasn't in the least put out. His polite smile became knowing. "That cold fish? I can't see what the ladies see in him, really I can't! He's wealthy enough, although he didn't start that way, and he has a figure to be envied, but he's never shown anything more than cold regard and equally cold flirting."

"How can you flirt coldly?" Vanessa demanded. It sounded impossible to her, and his lordship had never made her the object of a flirtation.

"Blessed if I know," Sir Digby confessed. "But he manages it. Is it the challenge, do you think?" His gaze became sharper, and he moved closer to whisper in her ear. "Is it any chance with you?"

"No!" Vanessa drew back, appalled by the blatantly crude question. She didn't want to draw attention to herself but determined to leave in a moment or two, as soon as her unfortunately loud negative had been overlooked.

Sir Digby patted her hand in a consoling manner, his hand accidentally straying to her thigh, on which her hand lay. "Never mind, dear. Sure, your life is bound to improve." His attention strayed, on to the dance floor. "They're striking up for a waltz," he observed. "Will you do me the honour, dear lady?"

"Certainly not sir," Vanessa replied, glad of the excuse to avoid more pawing. "My mother would never permit it. I'm not married yet, and it would be deeply improper for me to dance the waltz with you."

A voice behind her made her start. "Quite right too," Lord Vesey said approvingly. She had not heard or seen his entry into the room. "May I, with my new status, see if you will take a turn with me?"

Not at all put out, her admirer bowed and withdrew, leaving the field clear for her new betrothed. He held his hand out to help her to her feet. "He's quick on the uptake," he remarked.

She stood up. "I knew Sir Digby before," she said, "but he's married now."

"I know," he said. He put her hand on his arm. She knew people stared at them but they were bound to, she reasoned, if only to assess what kind of couple they made. It didn't concern her. He led her on to the floor. "I'm afraid I've only waltzed in private before," she confessed.

"I wasn't sure you could do it," he said. "I prepared myself to carry you round the floor. I can't recall seeing you dance the waltz before."

"Mama doesn't consider it proper for unmarried ladies to waltz," Vanessa said. "I've practised it, and I think I'll manage."

She forgot to mention that the only man she'd danced the waltz with before was her brother George. She flinched slightly when Vesey put his arm about her waist and placed his hand in hers, but he held her perfectly correctly. He gave her a quizzical look and she managed a small smile. She must get over her dislike of being touched by anyone she didn't know well, and quickly at that. Besides, she thought, she would know him well enough soon.

She was pleased to find she danced well with him, and knew she would do better with practice. After they circled the floor once, he spoke to her, assured this wouldn't ruin her concentration. "You'll need to dance well, where I want to take you."

"Sir?" she looked up at him, surprised.

"I had word this afternoon that I'm to proceed to Vienna at my earliest convenience," he told her. "I'm sorry for it, but I didn't plan for the Bonaparte's escape from Elba."

"No, of course not," she said mechanically, still concentrating on her steps. The words reached her, but not their implication.

"They're continuing with the Congress," he told her. "Officially, Bonaparte's escape is a setback, no more. Things will continue much as before, but I think there may be more to it than that."

There was a pause, while Vanessa thought about it. She still didn't know what he wanted to do about her. Could this be one of the shortest betrothals in history?

"This means," he continued evenly, "We can be married immediately, and then you may come with me, or you can wait. It's up to you, Vanessa."

Her name on his lips still sounded strange. "Which would you prefer?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but he gave her no other clue to his preference. "It's up to you," he repeated. "I can't deny your presence in Vienna would be welcome, but if you'd rather wait for my return, you're perfectly at liberty to do so."

"No," she said. "No. I've read about Vienna. Is it as lovely as they say?"

He didn't reply immediately, but took the opportunity of a tricky turn at the end of the room to keep silent. The turn negotiated, he said; "It's a beautiful city, sure enough, and half Europe is there at present. Would you like to go?"

"Very much," she said, and then realised what else went with it. So soon!

When she glanced at his face, she thought he was pleased with her response. Certainly his usual cold expression seemed softened a little, his mouth quirked up at the corners very slightly, his dark eyes more friendly than before.

George, she was forgetting George. One of the reasons she'd decided to accept Lord Vesey's offer was because he had some influence with the War Office. He might be able to make things easier for George, if she pleased him. She couldn't abandon George. She'd helped him take his first steps, shared the measles with him, and shared the heartbreak of losing his first love. Mind, she had told him that fifteen was too early to think of settling down. She knew that with Napoleon's escape, the army needed to mobilise all available troops, and George would be sent abroad soon.

The dance over, Lord Vesey led her back to her seat, where her mother was now ensconced, preening visibly. "You make a striking couple, my lord," she remarked after he bowed over her hand.

He accepted her compliment with equanimity. "I trust others will think so," he said. He was striking on his own, taller than many men, and with a powerful physique that betrayed his fondness for athletic sport, a well known trait since he'd taken to frequenting Jackson's in Bond Street. His dark colouring marked him out in company, an emphatic statement next to the more insipid browns of most of his contemporaries, and his confidence, gained from spending the last ten years in the company of great men, was apparent to all in his bearing. Vanessa almost felt proud to be seen with him. If it wasn't for what she'd been forced to give up! With an effort, she stopped herself from thinking about that.

Vanessa sat next to her mother while Lord Vesey stood to one side. He told Mrs. Marriott what he'd just told his intended. "So, ma'am, I fear the wedding must be a hasty one. Vanessa has kindly indicated that she is willing to marry me before I leave, but I can't delay for long."

"Certainly not with That Man at large!" commented Mrs. Marriott. In common with every patriotic Englishwoman she considered Bonaparte the devil incarnate, and didn't mind saying so. "It's a wonder we can all sleep soundly in our beds! It is a pity, and Vanessa won't be able to find time to collect a full trousseau, but I daresay we'll manage." It was the first Vanessa heard of a trousseau, and she realised the haste gave her mother the excuse of foregoing that expense.

"Thank you ma'am," Vesey replied, and then added; "I planned to proceed to the nearest port and take ship, but I think we can spare a few days in London, if Vanessa would care to buy a few things there."

"Yes that -- -- that is -- -- I don't want to discommode you, sir," she replied, startled into a stammer she'd overcome as a child.

"My dear, you will be required to dress appropriately," he said. "Vienna is a great social round, as well as the centre of European politics, and I want to show you off."

Acutely conscious of her bare arms, little puffed sleeves and white gown, more appropriate to a younger woman, Vanessa murmured, "Yes, sir, of course."

"I hope," he went on relentlessly, "That you would enjoy it -- a little?"

"Yes," she replied, suddenly, untypically shy.

Her mother's brain had been ticking over, evident to Vanessa by the distracted way she flicked her fan open and shut. "Vienna!" she said. Her eyes shone as she turned them up to gaze at Lord Vesey. "My goodness, Vienna!"

"Indeed, ma'am. Lord Castlereagh has asked for me, and I'm bound to go."

"Everybody is in Vienna!" Mrs. Marriott said. After a short pause, she added, "my poor little Vanessa has never been anywhere like that without her mother before!"

'Poor little Vanessa' couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was her mother really trying to invite herself on the bride-trip?

She should have known her scheming mother better. "I have always yearned to see that city!" the older lady went on rapturously. "Such a shame Paris has had such a setback! The new fashions were just arriving, the city opening for visitors again, and then that horrible little man upsets everyone by escaping! How did they let it happen?"

"I wasn't there, ma'am, so I can't say," Lord Vesey said, not without a touch of amusement. Mrs. Marriott didn't see it. "I doubt they did it on purpose! I'm sure this is only a temporary setback. He'll be returned soon. Or worse," he added after a moment's reflection.

"Perhaps he wants the glory of dying in battle," Vanessa suggested.

His lordship's face grew more serious. "There is no glory in dying in battle," he said. "I saw the aftermath of a battle once. There was no glory there."

Vanessa bowed her head, ashamed at her foolish comment, but Lord Vesey went on, "However, the fallacy still remains, and I daresay will remain for a long time to come. Napoleon may consider it preferable to die quickly than by stages." Vanessa smiled her thanks for his generous acceptance of her faux pas. "Nevertheless, if you wish to come, we must be married quickly. I'll obtain a Special Licence; there's no problem with that. What do you say to the end of next week?"

Today was Thursday. Vanessa felt stunned at such a speedy turn of events, but once she'd made her decision. There was no turning back.

Mrs. Marriott filled the silence; there was no need for Vanessa to say anything. "Oh, my lord, such a rush! Still, I'm sure Vanessa will understand, under the circumstances, the need for haste! You have no idea when you might return, I suppose?"

"That," his lordship said grimly, "Depends on Bonaparte."

Chapter Three

Vanessa had time to bespeak only three new gowns, and since her mother had the ordering of them, and would pay the bill, they were modest ones. At least, Vanessa reflected, they had long sleeves. She stood in the parlour of their hired house, one arm stiffly outstretched, while the dressmaker altered, pinned and tucked. The gowns weren't precisely made to measure, they had bought them ready made from a little place Mrs. Marriott knew, but the dressmaker undertook to alter them so no one would know they hadn't been designed and made for her.

Her mother walked critically around her eldest daughter while three of Vanessa's younger siblings sat and watched the process. "Does this mean I won't get my new ball gown?" Anthea asked. Her mouth turned down at the corners. "Not at all, dear," Mrs. Marriott replied. "This hasty wedding has saved us a great deal of expense. Of course, it's not what we would wish for, but with Vanessa gone, there will be a little more for the rest of you."

"Oh, goody!" Anthea clapped her hands. "Can I have a pink gown, Mama?"

"Only if it's the very palest pink," replied her mother, sternly. Mrs. Marriott had a very clear idea how unmarried girls should dress, and it didn't include strong colours. Or long sleeves, Vanessa reflected dourly, at least not in ball gowns and daywear. She only owned one pelisse, and that was growing thin, and her spencer was so out of date as to be positively shaming. She'd had all her clothes made over at least twice. She knew it couldn't be helped, given the family's precarious fortunes, but it would have been nice to be warm once in a while. One winter she knitted a large, shapeless shawl for herself. She told her mother it was for the poor, but she kept it for herself, and on cold nights, it gave her some comfort.

Vanessa was to marry in one of these new gowns; the pale green one. Pale green suited her more than some other pale colours, but Vanessa had always been aware that pale colours didn't best serve her fair skin. She looked forward to ordering gowns in the new, fashionably darker colours, and hoped her new husband wouldn't have the ordering of them, like her mother did.

Her new husband! She wished with all her heart that it was Emery, but firmly put the thought aside. She couldn't be the second daughter to marry modestly. It would reflect badly on her sisters, for one thing. She studied her three sisters, seated side by side on the large sofa. Dorinda, at twenty-one, was the real beauty of the family. Her dark hair curled beautifully, cut into a fashionable crop, and her skin hadn't a trace of sallowness about it. Anthea and Lydia were pretty too, and given the right kind of chances, could do well. Mrs. Marriott had drilled deportment and dancing into her children, so they all stood up well and danced with confidence (except for the waltz). Thanks to the tutor Mrs. Marriott begrudgingly obtained for George when expenses at his public school became too much, they had all learned a smattering of academic subjects as well. Poor Mr. Wright! He'd cast sheep's eyes at Vanessa all the time he'd been with them, and all the time she ignored the looks and sighs and took advantage of his partiality to obtain extra tutoring! He even tried to kiss her once, she recalled with a slight shudder. She wondered idly what had become of him. He'd taken Holy Orders, so perhaps he'd obtained a living somewhere, and was by now married with a young family.

Her thoughts kept turning back to marriage. She didn't know what was wrong with her.

"Turn, please miss," the seamstress mumbled through a mouthful of pins, and Vanessa obediently turned around. She stared down at the new gown, but took no pleasure in it. It was an insipid green chosen, as usual by her mother. Strange that such an intelligent woman had such a blind spot in regard to colours where her daughters were concerned! Other than that, Mrs. Marriott's taste was excellent. She always dressed well, and knew what was fashionable.

"My dear, I've quite decided," Mrs. Marriott said, coming round to where she could see her daughter's face. "I shall come to Vienna."

Vanessa gasped. "Mama, you can't!"

"Why not?"

"It's my bride trip!"

Mrs. Marriott shook her head. "Not with you, foolish girl! It occurs to me that half the fashionable world is there at present. London will be a waste of time this season, what with the Congress in Vienna and the army away! Too expensive, and with no result! Carrie doesn't make her come-out until the autumn, so she can have a nice quiet time with her sister in the country, and these three will come with me and see what they can do there!"

Vanessa's heart sank. She had enough to do, getting used to a new way of life, without her interfering mother trying to manage it for her. At the seamstress's urging, she put her arms down and climbed up on the stool put there for that purpose, so the woman could kneel and mark the hem.

"Where will you stay? Vienna can't have many houses vacant!"

"No, and don't you see, that works in our favour?" Her mother beamed in delight. "I can hire somewhere quite out of the way and say that all the fashionable houses were taken!" It was as though the seamstress didn't exist, Vanessa thought. She hated the way her mother made no secret of their poverty with underlings, but did everything she could to give the impression of genteel competence in company, but she had never said anything, concerned it might be taken as snobbishness.

"I think," said Mrs. Marriott, "We'll do very well there. I shall make arrangements to leave as soon as possible after your wedding, and then we'll together again very soon!"

***

Vanessa managed to meet Emery in secret a couple of times over the next week; once when she was supposed to be resting in the afternoon. Her mother wanted her to look her best for her wedding, and so she made Vanessa rest just before dinner, while she took the girls out visiting, or shopping (which really involved looking in the shops, and meeting one's acquaintances but buying nothing).

The butler, Fisher was sympathetic to her cause, and seemed to trust Vanessa more than her mother did. Mrs. Marriott had refused Emery the house since Vanessa's engagement was announced, but Fisher let him in if everyone else was out. His position was secure enough. As the oldest family employee he would probably never leave them now.

The bookroom was the safest place to meet, as was at the back of the house, and her mother never set foot there, so if she did come back unexpectedly, Emery had the opportunity of letting himself out discreetly and going out through the garden. As soon as Vanessa was told of his arrival, she hurried down there.

"Emery!"

She said very little for a while after that, being engaged in returning his kisses, and murmured endearments. They'd met like this for five years now, nearly six, and it had become familiar to Vanessa. She couldn't imagine kissing anyone else the same way, being held so close by anyone else, but she knew she had to begin to face the probability of it.

There were two hard chairs in the room. They pushed them together and sat down, his arm around her shoulders. "Is there nothing I can do or say to deter you?" he asked. "Are you set on this?"

"Someone has to do something to repair our fortunes," she replied. She took his hand, and gazed seriously into his sweet face. "We can't go on as we are. Not any more. George showed me the accounts, and they don't make comfortable reading."

"Why does it have to be you? Oh my angel, can't you put it off a little? Something might turn up between now and the day!"

"It's gone too far for that," she told him. "I've promised, and I have to go through with it now."

He let go of her hand and traced a line on her face, down her cheek to her jaw. "How can I bear it?" he asked, his voice soft. "When he saw us -- the other day I mean -- I thought he might call it off then."

Vanessa was suddenly suspicious. "Is that why you did it?"

He shook his head. "No, but I wasn't sorry when he caught us. What did you tell him?"

"That we were saying goodbye."

He was silent for a moment, watching her face. "Are we?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you marry -- is it over between us? Do we have to say goodbye?"

She was appalled. "What do you mean? That I marry Vesey and continue to see you clandestinely?"

"Why not? If it's the only way..."

Vanessa knew she was being naïve, by the standards of her society. Many people managed their lives that way. Vanessa saw it as the breaking of a promise, one made before God, and it had never crossed her mind to cheat like that. She felt guilty seeing Emery like this, never mind a true affair. Besides, there was something else. "I promised him," she said.

"Vesey wants you to himself?" Emery seemed surprised. "I didn't think he cared."

She had to tell him. "He wants the nursery filled."

His face cleared of its puzzlement, and he looked relieved, the furrows on his brow replaced by a sigh of relief. "Oh is that all! We can take care of that! We don't have to -- produce progeny, as his lordship no doubt put it!"

She flushed, and he was quick to apologise. "I'm sorry, sweetness, I didn't mean to upset you." He kissed her gently. "It can be done, you know."

"I promised him," she repeated, a little less firmly, and then, struck by another thought, "won't you object to -- to sharing? I wouldn't be able to bear it!"

He shook his head. "If it's the only way --" he began, and then said, hopelessly, "Of course I mind, all I ever wanted was to have you for myself! I'm sure he won't ask much of you, and if I try, I can manage. It's better than the alternative, anyway!"

She laid a hand over his, feeling his agony. "You must want me very much."

"More than anything else," he confessed.

She always thought that was what she wanted too, but she'd made the move, taken the step that might take her away from Emery forever, and although it made her sad, she could bear to think of a future without him. Perhaps women were just more practical, she concluded.

"It's no use," she said. "He wants to take me to Vienna after the wedding."

"Vienna!" he cried, dismayed. "Oh, I see! The Congress!"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I'm to join the diplomatic service."

He studied her face as though he was never to see it again, the hungry look matched by the sadness in her own. "You'll be back," he said.

"A married woman," she reminded him. "I gave Lord Vesey a promise, and I mean to keep it."

"I mean to persuade you to break it."

She shook her head, troubled he should want to, but she knew Emery's love for her was exceptional. He'd devoted himself totally to her since they'd first met, at a ball a few years after her come-out. At first flattered, then swept up by his passion, Vanessa couldn't imagine loving anyone else, spending the rest of her life with another, but she couldn't think of spending it alone and of no use to anyone.

"If Jane hadn't married her Paul when she did, perhaps -." With five other girls to establish, and the eldest a drag on her finances, Mrs. Marriott might just have given her blessing to Vanessa's choice, but then her sister insisted on marrying her indigent clergyman, and destroyed Vanessa's carefully laid plans. She'd decided to tell her mother at the end of that season, and then Emery would join up, or seek his fortune in America, where he had some investments, but it was not to be. First Jane's marriage, then the 1812 war with America had put paid to her plans, and here they were, still waiting.

"Your mama still has four to settle!" he cried. "Surely she can spare one of you!"

She laid her hand over his to still its agitation, restlessly drumming on his knee. "You see Mama cares for us, in her own way. She wants to see us creditably settled, comfortable at least. She works very hard for us all!"

"In her own way," he admitted. "I cannot think it is right just to look for wealth in a husband!"

"Oh she doesn't," Vanessa declared blithely. "She looks for social standing and influence, as well! Now, with George in the army -- "

"Yes," he said grimly. "With your brother in the army, and at such a time, he might -- God forbid -- be killed, and then where will you all go, who will you turn to? I heard her at the Assembly rooms the other night!" he looked from their hands to her face, the strain apparent in every beloved line. "All her schemes are for herself, Vanessa, all her plans for her own aggrandisement!"

"No -!" Vanessa protested. Her mother schemed, but with a wastrel for a husband and a young family, there had been very little choice. She was sure her mother loved her, in her own way.

"If she wants you to be happy, why won't she entertain my suit? Why accept with alacrity the first wealthy man to get past your guard, and why --" he turned to her, despair etched on his features, his agitation turned to grief at the prospect of losing her clear for her to see. "Why did you accept him?"

She twined her fingers with his. "Because, my love, I'm eight and twenty and not likely to get any younger. Because there is no real prospect for us. It's been six years, Emery, and I want a home of my own, perhaps a family to rear!" she saw his wince at this reference. She was sorry for it, and wished she could be less honest with herself or him. "If I can't have the man I fell in love with, then I'll take second best. I'll take what I can!"

"Vanessa! I thought you would wait!"

She dropped his hands, stood up and went to stare in the mirror above the fireplace. She looked tired, she thought. "I'm weary of it all," she said. She watched her lips move as though she was watching a different person there. "Year after year waiting, hoping, thinking 'this year it's going to be different.'" She turned round to gaze at Emery, sitting watching, her expression as bleak as her heart. "Well, this year it will be different. I'm sorry, Emery, I can't give you any hope. Perhaps you'd better not come here again."

He stood up, wouldn't release her from his hard gaze. "Very well. I won't come again, if you wish it. I won't give up." He came towards her. "May I have one last kiss, one kiss to remember you by?"

"Of course."

She went to his arms and lifted her face for his kiss. It was long and loving, and his mouth trembled slightly when it left hers, but his expression was firm enough when she opened her eyes to see his face. "You're set on it, then?"

"Yes," she said.

He released her, bowed, and with that crooked smile that always made her yearn to touch him, he left.

Nobody knew Vanessa wept for fully half an hour afterwards, because she went to her room first, closed the door firmly and made sure she had a cloth and a bowl full of warm water with her first.

To order or learn more!