‘Oh, no!’ She was blushing now. The tints of rose on her cheeks merely served to highlight her perfect complexion. There was colour on her neck, too, though it was partly hidden behind her high collar. Under her muslins, he had no doubt that even her bosom was delicately pink and-

She pulled another card towards her and busied herself with carefully writing the name. Just as well that she was not looking at Jon. She might be a single lady, but she was almost certainly old enough to recognise sensual awareness in a man’s face. He had no right to allow himself to stray into such thoughts. She was a nobody, a protégée at most. It was beneath his dignity to dally with her.

‘Oh, bl-!’ Her nib had broken and blotted the card. ‘Bother!’ she corrected herself quickly. When he did not react, she threw him a mischievous look. Unlike the simpering debutantes, she was sensible enough to realise that his touch had been a mistake. And to be forgotten at once. Yes, sensible, but delightful company, too, as he had learned since his return. Her eyes were now dancing with mischief. ‘You will permit me to observe, my lord, that your supervision of my work is not helping.’

Excellent. She was back to her normal quick-witted self. Easy with him, and more than ready to take him to task. He much preferred her that way.

He allowed himself a sheepish grin. ‘I will take myself further off at once, ma’am.’ He rose and crossed the room to Mrs Aubrey’s side. ‘It is clear that Miss Aubrey finds my presence a burden this afternoon. However, my intentions were of the best, I assure you. I knew there were bound to be last-minute chores and, since it is my party, I thought I should offer my services. Is there any way in which I can help?’

Mrs Aubrey smiled, shaking her head. ‘No. Apart from the place cards, everything is done. Unless you wish to help with those?’

He snorted with laughter. ‘If you had seen my hand writing, ma’am, you would not ask.’

She laughed, too. ‘I thought as much. It tends to be the way with gentlemen. No, you may sit and converse with me over the teacups, so that Beth is left in peace to finish her task. We are treating you as a friend of the family, you understand, rather than an exalted visitor who must become the centre of everyone’s attention.’ She paused. Jon thought he saw a fleeting shadow cross her face. ‘After all these daily visits, it could hardly be otherwise.’

Was that a warning? Had he overstepped the mark?

‘But we do appreciate your help and advice,’ the old lady went on quickly. ‘However, I warn you that you must not call tomorrow, Jonathan. Both Beth and I shall be fully engaged with gowns and curling tongs. Male company will definitely not be welcome.’

He nodded an acknowledgement, trying to keep his face straight. ‘I shall wait with…er…interest to see the results of so much female industry. I dare say I shall not recognise my hostess and my guest of honour when they cross my threshold.’

Mrs Aubrey’s eyes were sparkling wickedly now. That was too much for Jon, who laughed aloud. In a moment, Mrs Aubrey was laughing, too.

For some reason, Beth did not respond at all. Clearly she was too absorbed in her work to have heard another word he said.

Beth touched slightly shaky fingers to her lips and then, even more tentatively, to her hair. It was a splendid confection, but much too elaborate for a woman with no name. Could she go through with this? She closed her eyes. She really did not want to look at the woman in the mirror. That was not Beth. That was some other person, a fine lady, the kind of lady who could go into society and hold her head high.

She swallowed hard. She had promised Jonathan that she would do this. She had repeated the promise during one of his recent visits. But he did not know who Beth was or where she came from, any more than she herself did. When she was with him, talking and laughing as they had been doing over these last three days, she had begun to feel calm, almost serene. He treated Beth exactly as he treated Mrs Aubrey. Like a lady. But was she a lady?

It was true that she had not been a menial. Her soft hands proved that. But she could just as well have been a lowly companion, or in some other inferior position in a household. The fact that she enjoyed her duties as the village schoolmistress, and that she was apparently so good at it, suggested she might have been some kind of teacher, or governess. That would make her a lady-of sorts-but not one whose position in society allowed her to sit at the right hand of an earl.

Her eyes flew open in horror. She stared at her reflection. She had turned stark white at the thought of sitting in the place of honour at Jonathan’s table. He was going to insist upon it. He had said so, and Mrs Aubrey had readily agreed. According to the printed invitations, the select dinner, followed by a larger evening party, was ‘to introduce Miss Aubrey’. Therefore, she would have to take the place of honour on the host’s right, no matter how high the station of any other of the lady guests.

Beth cringed inwardly. How could she possibly do this? She had promised not to develop a convenient headache. Unfortunately, she was beginning to develop a real one.

She rose and began to pace up and down her bedchamber. The skirts of the beautiful new evening gown floated about her caressingly. Oh dear. Mrs Aubrey had gone to so much trouble, and so much expense, for this. The gown was a very elegant affair of delicate white gauze over pomona-green silk. It had a low square neckline and vandyking on the sleeves and hemline, to show off the gleaming colour beneath. Much too fine for a foundling.

The bedroom door opened. Hetty was back. Her excited chatter would begin all over again. Beth was not sure she could bear it.

‘Mrs Aubrey sent these.’ The maid opened a flat leather case with exaggerated care.

Beth stopped and gazed. ‘Oh,’ she breathed. The jewel case contained a single strand of exceedingly good pearls, with matching ear drops. Perfect.

‘Sit down, Miss Beth, and I will put the necklace on for you.’

What choice did she have? The whole household was determined that, like Cinderella, she should go to the ball. But, unlike Cinderella, Beth could never be worthy of this prince.

Hetty quickly clasped the pearls around Beth’s neck and helped her to hook the earrings in place. Beth straightened her shoulders. There was no going back now. She had promised them all, and so she must do everything in her power to play her part in this…this charade. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips a little. That was better. There was colour now, in both. She rose again and shook out her skirts. She could do this. She would.

She forced herself to smile as she drew on her long gloves and took up her matching fan and reticule. ‘Thank you, Hetty, for the hairstyle.’ On an impulse, she put her gloved hands on the girl’s shoulders and dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘You are a wonder.’

Hetty blushed to the roots of her hair. And then she dropped a curtsy. ‘Miss Beth, I- Oh, ma’am, thank you.’

Beth could not tell which of them was more overcome. Not wishing to embarrass Hetty further, she patted the girl’s shoulder and left the room.

At the foot of the stairs, the rector and Mrs Aubrey were waiting. Mrs Aubrey had fashioned that wonderfully unusual red-purple silk into a most flattering evening gown. She had garnet drops in her ears, and a matching aigrette in her hair.

‘Oh, ma’am!’ Beth stopped halfway down the stairs. ‘How fine you look. His lordship could not have a more splendid hostess at his side.’

Mrs Aubrey preened a little and touched her grey curls. She too had had the benefit of Hetty’s clever fingers. ‘Thank you, child.’

‘May I say,’ the rector intervened, ‘that both my ladies look extremely fine.’ When Beth reached the hallway, he shook out her evening cloak and placed it gently on her shoulders.

Mrs Aubrey leant forward to tie it for her, straightening the folds so that the deep green velvet would hang beautifully. ‘You look radiant, Beth. Exactly how a guest of honour should be. Come now. Since his lordship has kindly sent his carriage to fetch us, we must not keep his horses standing any longer. What time do you have, James, my dear?’

The rector checked his silver pocket watch. ‘If we leave now, we will have at least a quarter of an hour before any of the other guests arrive.’

Unless they are truly bad-mannered. What if they arrive early, in order to ogle Cinderella before she has learned how to walk in her glass slippers?

Beth could not silence that unruly voice in her head. There were certainly some of the guests who were capable of such rudeness. Beth could imagine Sir Bertram and Lady Fitzherbert doing so. Lady Fitzherbert would give that tinkling, tittering laugh of hers, place her beautifully manicured fingers on Jonathan’s sleeve, and gush that she ‘must have mistaken the time’.

I will not let them embarrass me. They shall not look down on me. Whoever I was, I am now Miss Aubrey. If the rector and Mrs Aubrey are prepared to treat me as a lady, everyone else shall do so, too. Jonathan believes in me. Surely that is enough?

Chapter Five

Jon paced up and down in his library, waiting for the butler to appear, to warn him that the carriage was coming up the drive. For some reason, he was a little nervous. He could not understand why. He was only preparing for an evening party, not an assault with bayonets fixed and guns blazing.

The butler entered silently and bowed. ‘Your lordship’s carriage will be at the door in a few moments. Shall I show the guests into the crimson saloon?’

‘No, Sutton. Mrs Aubrey is my hostess, and Miss Aubrey is the guest of honour. I shall meet them at the door myself.’ He strode out into the hallway, past the thin-lipped butler. The man clearly did not approve of such condescension to a mere rector and his family.

The footman had already thrown the great door wide. Mrs Aubrey led the way into the house, followed by the rector, with Miss Beth on his arm. Mrs Aubrey let her cloak slip from her shoulders into the footman’s waiting hands. Then she curtsied in response to Jon’s deep bow. ‘Good evening, Jonathan.’

Jon smiled broadly and returned her greeting. It still gave him a warm feeling to hear her use his given name.

He turned to greet the rector. ‘Good evening, sir, and welcome.’

The rector was too busy removing Miss Beth’s cloak to reply. He took her hand and led her forward. ‘Good evening, Jonathan.’ He bowed briefly. ‘May I present your guest of honour, Miss Aubrey?’

There was only time for a single glance before she sank into a deep curtsy, a curtsy fit for a queen, not a mere earl. When she did not rise immediately, Jon stepped forward and took her hand to raise her himself. His eyes had not deceived him. She looked utterly radiant, as beautiful as the dawn. His breath caught. For a second, he could not find any words. How did you tell a woman that she had been transformed into a vision out of a fairytale?

Mrs Aubrey was gazing at Beth with pride in her eyes and a slight smile on her lips. But it was the rector who broke the silence. ‘Fit to grace any man’s table, I’d say. Wouldn’t you agree, my boy?’

Jon found his voice at last. ‘Rector, I have no doubt that your ladies-both your ladies-will outshine any in the county.’

By the time the guests were seated at the dinner table, Jon had more or less recovered from the revelation of Beth’s astonishing beauty. How had he failed to see it before? Had he stopped using his eyes once he decided she was a foundling in need of rescue? It was possible. In Spain, after the siege of Badajoz, many women had been attacked by drunken British soldiers. Jon and his fellow officers had been unable to save them from molestation, and worse. That failure still haunted him, so much so that he had sworn he would always defend a lone woman in distress. That was part of the reason he had made common cause with the Aubreys to support Beth, though it had suited his other purposes, too. Had he been so intent on securing his own place in Fratcombe society, that he had failed to understand she was not just a cause, but also a living, breathing woman?

He knew it now. The living, breathing body beneath that filmy gown was the stuff of a man’s dreams.

His heart was still beating faster than normal but he fancied he had hidden his physical reactions pretty well. He had even succeeded in escorting her to the dining room without betraying himself. She had rested her hand so lightly on the sleeve of his dress coat that he had had to check it was actually there. It was, but even then he was not totally convinced. Her fingers could easily have been hovering a fraction of an inch above his arm. Was she as aware of his body as he was of hers? He could not tell. But he must not allow himself to lust after her. She was far beneath him, but she was a lady. It was his duty to treat her as one.