Tonight he would begin his new life. It would have horrified him even just a week ago to imagine that he might be bound by Penhallow, which had been an unhappy prison house to him during his growing years, by his title, which he had never wanted, and by his responsibilities, which he had tried to fulfill through the appointment of a competent steward but which he had now discovered extended well beyond what any steward could do. But he was bound, and extraordinarily, it was the bonds of love more than duty that would keep him here at Penhallow.

But it was no happily-ever-after that he faced tonight. There was much to be settled before he could even begin to think in terms of happiness, much less happily-ever-after, which was a nonsensical idea anyway. Hugh Garnett had returned home, he had heard. There was no knowing for sure if he would come to the ball, but Joshua would wager on it. Then there was his aunt. And Freyja . . .

He heard sounds behind him and turned to see her approaching with Morgan and Eve-Aidan and Alleyne were coming along behind them, both in black-and-white evening clothes. Freyja was shimmering in a pale green gown embroidered all over with gold thread. It was a low-bosomed gown with loosely flowing skirt and scalloped hem and sleeves. Her hair, elaborately piled and coiled, was threaded with gold. Her long gloves and slippers were also gold-colored.

He caught his breath. When had he started to think of her as beautiful? She was not, was she? But to him she was lovelier than any woman he had ever set eyes upon. He smiled, took her gloved hand in his, bowed over it, and raised it to his lips.

"You look beautiful, my charmer," he said.

Her dark eyebrows arched arrogantly upward.

"So do you, Josh," she said.

He grinned at her and turned to greet the others. His aunt and cousins were approaching too with Calvin. His aunt, in black silk with nodding hair plumes, was smiling about her as if this had been all her idea. Indeed, she had been in a good mood all day even though she had avoided the ballroom while the flowers were being moved about and arranged. Constance, looking prettier than she had in Bath, wore pale blue and looked composed. Chastity, in pink, was sparkling with excitement. Prue, in pale yellow, was almost beside herself.

Almost immediately the guests began to arrive, and soon there was a veritable flood of them, a curious mix of elegantly dressed members of the upper classes and villagers and small farmers and laborers in their Sunday best, looking awkward and pleased with themselves and flustered as they made their bows and curtsies to the marchioness, who greeted them with stiff condescension, and more relaxed as they smiled at Joshua. He shook hands with everyone and had a word for all.

Anne Jewell came, he was pleased to see-Joshua had called upon her personally to urge her to accept her invitation. She entered the ballroom with Miss Palmer and fixed her eyes on the floor as she curtsied to the marchioness. Ben Turner came with his mother. The Allwrights came. Isaac Perrie came with his wife and two daughters. Jim Saunders came. So did Sir Rees Newton, the local magistrate, with Lady Newton and their son.

By the time the new arrivals had slowed to the merest trickle and Joshua announced his intention of getting the dancing started, there was no one he could think of who had not come-with the exception of Hugh Garnett. It would be sadly disappointing if he failed to put in any appearance at all. But in the meantime there was a ball to be enjoyed.

He led off the opening set with Freyja. It was a sprightly country dance, as were most of the dances planned for the evening. Everyone would know the steps and would feel no self-consciousness about performing them. There was self-consciousness at first, of course, and Joshua had to leave his place in the line, Freyja on his arm, to circle the edge of the dance floor and coax couples to join the revelries. He laughed and teased as he did so, and soon the line stretched the length of the room. Joshua, taking his place again and winking at Freyja, nodded to the leader of the orchestra, and the music began.

After that everyone seemed abandoned to merriment. If those of high rank felt any discomfort in rubbing shoulders with the lower classes, they showed no sign of it. Aidan, Joshua noticed, danced the second set with Anne Jewell, Alleyne with one of the Perrie girls, whose cheeks were such a rosy red that they looked as if they might burst into flame at any moment. Joshua danced with Constance, who had been led into the opening set by Calvin.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"Of course." She smiled.

"I thought," he said, "that Saunders would surely claim this set with you." Jim Saunders had not danced at all.

"Mama would not like it," she said.

"Would she not?" He had meant to have a good talk with Constance but had not found the time for it yet. "But would you like it?"

She stared mutely at him.

"And would Saunders like it?" he asked.

A frown creased her brow for a moment. "We cannot always do what we want," she said.

"Why not?" He smiled at her.

"Oh, Joshua," she said in a rush, "I wish I could be like you. I wish-"

But the music began and they were obliged to give their attention to the complicated figures of the dance.

It was at the end of the second set that Hugh Garnett strolled into the ballroom, five other men with him, none of whom now lived in the neighborhood. Joshua was talking with Mrs. Turner and Prue at the time and was detained by Prue's excited account of dancing with Ben. But his aunt stepped up to the door and received the new guests with gracious smiles and much nodding of her plumes. She slipped one arm through Garnett's and turned to look about the ballroom with a smile. She beckoned to someone across the room, and Joshua turned his head to see Chastity crossing the floor toward them, a smile still on her face but all the light gone out inside her. Garnett bowed and said something before extending his arm. Chastity set hers along it, and he led her onto the floor, where couples were already gathering for the next set.

The other five men dispersed about the ballroom and were soon lost among the crowds.

Ah, Joshua thought, this was better. He went to claim Morgan, his next partner.

Freyja danced the second set with Sir Rees Newton and the third with Isaac Perrie, the village innkeeper, of all people. She could hardly believe that he would ask and that she would say yes. Gracious heavens, Wulf, if he were here, would have frozen the man with one glance from his silver eyes for even daring to raise his eyes to Lady Freyja Bedwyn. But she discovered that she was enjoying herself enormously. This, she felt, was somehow right. This was how life ought to be. She felt a pang of regret for these people that soon Joshua would be gone-if he could ward off the threat that still loomed-and life would return to its dreary norm under the marchioness's rule. She felt a pang of regret for him. And for herself.

But she would not think any dreary thoughts tonight. She was going to enjoy herself.

"It is good to see Garnett back from his travels," Mr. Perrie said, nodding his head down the line of dancers.

"Hugh Garnett?" Freyja looked at him, startled. "He is here?"

"In person." The innkeeper smiled his gap-toothed smile. "Third from the end."

Hugh Garnett, Freyja saw in one quick glance, was a dark-haired, youngish man and handsome in an oily sort of way. He was dancing with Chastity.

"Don't you worry none, lass," Mr. Perrie said. "Your lad is safe from harm."

Lass? Freyja might well have laughed aloud at the absurdity of it had she not suddenly felt rather alarmed-and strangely exhilarated. At last! Something was going to happen.

That something happened after the set had ended.

When all the dancers moved off the floor, Hugh Garnett did not. And in the lull that succeeded the music and the pounding of the dancers' feet on the floor, he raised his voice and spoke across the room.

"Sir Rees Newton," he said, and waited a moment while everyone's attention swung his way and conversations subsided into a surprised silence, "I wonder if you realize, sir, that this ballroom tonight harbors a murderer and a usurper?"

Freyja, looking sharply across the ballroom to where Joshua stood beside Mr. and Mrs. Allwright, instantly recognized in him the man who had burst into her inn room on the road to Bath and the man who had stood in the Pump Room the morning after the Sydney Gardens incident, waiting for her to finish stalking toward him. He looked alert, ready for danger, very much alive-and enjoying himself.

"I beg your pardon," Sir Rees said, all amazement. "Are you addressing me, Garnett?"

"I am amazed he had the temerity to return to Cornwall," Garnett said. "Joshua Moore murdered his cousin five years ago by rowing him out to sea in a small fishing boat and pushing him overboard and holding him under with his oar. He murdered for profit and has reaped all the rewards. You see him tonight as Marquess of Hallmere and in possession of all that has come with it. I am here to denounce him, sir. I was a witness to the killing."

No one, it seemed to Freyja, had moved a muscle except for Chastity, who had sunk onto a chair beside Morgan, and the marchioness, who was half tottering out onto the floor, one hand clutched to her throat.

Sir Rees sounded more irritated than outraged when he spoke.

"This is a serious allegation indeed, Garnett," he said. "But it is hardly the time or the place-"

Another voice interrupted him.

"I was with Hugh Garnett at the time," a squat, rough-looking man said, stepping out of the crowd, "and can corroborate his evidence."

"So was I and so can I," said another thin, bald man, stepping forward from the crowd close to the orchestra dais.

"And me, sir."

"And me, sir."

"Me too."

Five of them. And Hugh Garnett himself. Freyja's knees felt weak. She felt suddenly nauseous.

"Mr. Garnett." The marchioness clutched his arm with one hand, her other hand still to her throat. "When you came to me once before with these charges, I told you I would never believe them. Not of my dear Joshua, who was like a son to me, even though the victim was my own son. Not unless you could offer me proof that even I could not ignore. But I still cannot believe it of Joshua. Tell me there is some mistake. Tell me I am dreaming. Tell me this is some joke."

Freyja's hands closed into fists at her sides.

Sir Rees had also stepped forward. He looked deeply troubled, as well he might. This was not what he had expected of an evening of celebration. But before he could speak again, Isaac Perrie spoke up.

"Don't trouble yourself, my lady," he said affably. "They are lying rogues, all of them. I was standing in the doorway of my taproom that night, I was, because it was getting stormy and I knew the lads had taken a boat out. I watched it coming back. Young Josh-him that is now marquess-was rowing and your son was swimming beside him. They was close to shore, and I saw your son get to his feet while young Josh rowed off again. I was vexed with him for going back out when the sea was rough, but he was always a sure lad with the oars. I did not worry."

"I saw it too," another voice said. "I came to stand beside you, Isaac, if you recall. Young Josh's cousin was wading in, safe and sound and dripping wet."

"I saw them from the front road," another voice said. "It happened just like Isaac said."

"I was down by our boat with my dad," Ben Turner said. "I saw them too."

"I saw them from the house window," Mrs. Turner said.

Freyja unfurled her fan and fanned her face slowly with it. Her eyes met Morgan's across the room, and they exchanged half-smiles. It was obvious what was happening. At least a dozen other people had witnessed the event from the village exactly as Joshua had told it at the time. And as if that were not sufficient, a few of the servants at Penhallow had been strolling on the private beach the other side of the river and had seen it too, and a couple of the farm laborers had been walking on the cliff top above Penhallow and had seen.

For a stormy night, the area had been literally crawling with people, all with remarkably good vision, assuming there had been no moonlight during the storm.

Freyja met Joshua's eyes, and he depressed one eyelid slowly.

The marchioness and Mr. Hugh Garnett had not, it seemed, taken into account the fact that Penhallow and its environs were filled with Joshua's friends, people who knew him and loved and trusted him and were willing to perjure themselves on his behalf.