Rebecca's Refusal

Chapter Three

Rebecca lifted the ruby necklace out of its box, remembering how much her mother had loved it. It was from her mother that Rebecca had inherited her distinctive colouring, and the rubies, which she had inherited on her mother's death, set it off to perfection. The warm red glow of the jewels brought out the red of her lips and added a warm glow to her porcelain-white skin.

Susan fastened it round her neck, then helped her to put on the matching ruby earrings.

“Oh, they're beautiful, Rebecca!” exclaimed Hetty as she bustled in. “And how well they go with your gown. I have always liked you in red, and that gown, with its ruby bodice and white satin skirt, is so becoming! The gentlemen will think so, too, I am sure.”

Rebecca's mouth quirked. Her aunt was the best of women, but she had a habit of trying to find Rebecca a husband whenever she visited the capital. It was useless for Rebecca to protest that she did not want to marry; that she had never met a man who had made her long to join her life to his; and that until she did she was content to remain on the shelf. Her aunt could only see that she was three-and-twenty, and unwed.

Rebecca picked up her fan and gave her aunt an affectionate kiss on the cheek. She could not prevent Hetty's innocent scheming, and she knew she must accept it as an inalienable part of her aunt. Besides, thought Rebecca, perhaps it was a good thing. Ever since meeting Joshua she had felt unsettled, and she wondered whether it was Nature's way of telling her that she had, after all, been too long on the shelf.

A small voice inside her told her it had more to do with Joshua's wicked smile, challenging character and mane of blond hair — hair which inexplicably tempted her to run her fingers through it — but she refused to listen to that voice and wisely ignored it. Joshua may be unsettling and strangely attractive, but she knew from her grandfather's conversation that he was not the sort of man she should risk falling in love with.

Falling in love! She must indeed have been too long on the shelf if she was having such unsuitable ideas — and about a man she had only just met!

Giving herself a mental shake she recalled her wandering thoughts and followed her aunt downstairs.

“You remember Lady Cranston?” asked Hetty as, half an hour later, they arrived at that lady's splendid London home.

“Yes. I often met her at Grandfather's,” said Rebecca. She, Hetty and Charles made their way inside and slowly mounted the magnificent staircase as they waited to be received.

Lady Cranston had been a friend of Rebecca's grandfather. In her youth Lady Cranston had been plain Mary Smithers, and had lived next door to Jebadiah, which was how they had come to know each other. And how Hetty and Charles now found themselves invited to her balls.

“She knows you are staying with us at the moment, Rebecca, and has invited several gentlemen she would like you to meet.”

Rebecca caught Charles's eye and they both smiled.

“Your aunt won't be happy until I've walked you down the aisle,” laughed Charles.

They reached the top of the staircase where they were greeted by Lord and Lady Cranston, sparing Rebecca from the need to reply. For whilst she could not object to the good-natured efforts of her friends on her behalf, she found the gentlemen she met in Society's ballrooms to be insipid. Their lives were so ordered and well-established that there was no room in them for the challenge and stimulation Rebecca needed. Though gently bred she had inherited much of Jebadiah's drive and she knew she could never be content with leading a life that offered her nothing but endless frivolity.

Having been received, they went through into the ballroom.

“What a wonderful room,” sighed Hetty as she looked around the impressive apartment.

It was indeed wonderful. Everything about it was grand. Its proportions were generous, and its high ceiling was painted with classical scenes. Sparkling chandeliers winked and shone in the candlelight; candelabras were placed on stands between each of the gilded mirrors that ran down either side of the room, and the reflected light was dazzling. But it was not the room, however grand, that caught Rebecca's attention. It was the figure of Joshua, standing at the far end. He was talking to a handsome woman with Titian hair and green eyes who was dressed in an exquisite gown of emerald green silk. He was smiling, evidently amused by her company, which, judging from her elegance and poise, was sophisticated and witty.

Rebecca looked away... only to be confronted by a row of the same images stretching away into the distance, reflected in the mirrors that lined the room. She turned away again, resolutely fixing her eyes on the orchestra, but she could not help noticing how fine Joshua was looking in the brief second before she averted her gaze. His hair had been brushed into some semblance of order, its dark blond contrasting with the black of his coat, the whiteness of his lawn shirt and the light bronze of his skin.

She had turned away just in time. As though he had felt her eyes on him he looked towards her. Even though she had looked away she was aware of him, and could not help noticing him out of the corner of her eye. She saw him make his excuses to the handsome woman, and then walk towards her across the ballroom. She felt her heart begin to beat more rapidly. To steady it she reminded herself that he had been laughing with the glamorous redhead not two minutes before, and reminded herself of her grandfather's many tales about Joshua's exploits. It would be as well for her to remember them.

Determinedly turning her thoughts into more mundane channels she forced herself to pay attention to her fellow guests: she must not stare at Joshua as he crossed the room. Instead she forced herself to consider Lady Cranston's other guests. Despite the snowy weather and the unfashionable time of year the ball was reasonably well attended, and the varied guests seemed to be enjoying themselves.

“Ah! Here is Joshua,” said Hetty in a pleased voice, catching sight of him as he threaded his way through the other guests.

Rebecca, by now in control of herself, greeted him politely, and Hetty and Charles did the same.

“You haven't forgotten your promise?” he said teasingly to Rebecca as he stopped in front of her.

She was forced to look up at him. “No indeed.”

“Good. The first dance is about to begin.”

He gave her his arm and led her out onto the floor.

To her relief, the first dance was a country dance. She had been half afraid it might be a waltz. The risque dance was becoming permissible in polite society, but although she knew the steps she had never yet danced it at a ball. To have danced it for the first time with Joshua would have been alarming. To have felt his hand on her waist... would it burn, as his kiss had burned her hand?

“... not too crowded.”

With a start she realized that Joshua was speaking.

By the look in his eye she could tell he guessed she had been day-dreaming. She was just pleased that he did not know what about!

“No, indeed,” she said, accurately guessing that he had said the ballroom was not too crowded. “At least not yet. We should have plenty of room for our steps.”

The orchestra played the opening chords and she curtseyed demurely to Joshua. In return he made her a bow.

He took her hand for the first part of the dance. To her relief, his touch did not burn her. But instead she felt a strange shiver spread up her arm.

I have definitely been too long unwed! she thought, annoyed with her reaction to him. Of all people, to find herself attracted to Joshua! A man who was completely impossible!

She cast about in her mind for some topic of conversation that would keep her mind from wandering down such disturbing channels. The sight of a militiaman in uniform made her recall Joshua's warning the previous day that mills were dangerous places. She wondered whether he could have been referring to the problems caused by the Luddites, for they had been active in recent years.

Yes, the Luddites were a suitable choice of conversation. Talking about them would most certainly prevent her thoughts from wandering down hopelessly inappropriate paths!

The steps of the dance parted them for a minute, but when they met again Rebecca said, “You were speaking of the dangers concerned with running the mill yesterday. Were you thinking of the Luddites?” she asked.

Joshua gave a wry smile, as though guessing the reason for her unusual choice of conversation. But no. Of course he could not have done. She was letting her imagination run away with her — again.

Whatever his thoughts, he fell in with her choice of conversation. “Yes. I was.”

“Have there been any problems with them at Marsden mill?”

“No. Marsden mill was never attacked. But that doesn't mean that we can relax in our vigilance. These are turbulent times, and we need to remember it.” The steps of the dance parted them again, but when they came together, Joshua asked, “Your grandfather spoke to you about the Luddite problem, I take it?”

“No,” said Rebecca.

“Then you don't know the kind of havoc they can cause,” he frowned.

“On the contrary,” she informed him. “I know only too well. Cousin Louisa and I live in Cheshire, as you know. That is very close to the source of many of the problems. The Luddites have caused a lot of difficulties in the north of England recently, and in the Midlands as well.” Her mouth quirked humorously. “Despite being a mere woman, I have been known to read a newspaper from time to time,” she said with a sideways glance.

He laughed. But then his expression became more serious. “Reading a newspaper is one thing; running a mill is another. I wasn't exaggerating when I said that mills are dangerous places. If you read the newspapers, you know that what I am saying is true.”

“I know it was true,” said Rebecca. “There has been a lot of unrest, but it is over now. The ringleaders have been dealt with and that has put a stop to it.”

“Unfortunately it may not be as simple as that. Although a lot of the Luddite ringleaders have been dealt with, the underlying problems haven't gone away, and trouble could break out again at any time. We will not know if the Luddite movement has really been broken until we have had at least two or three peaceful years. There is still a lot of resentment against the using of machines because the machines take away men's jobs, and without jobs they can't feed their families.”

“In that I have a great deal of sympathy for them,” said Rebecca. She looked at him challengingly as she walked down the room beside him, her hand raised and joined to his. “I warn you, if you mean to put men out of work then I will do everything in my power to thwart you.”

“It would not surprise me,” he returned, with a flash in his copper-coloured eyes.

And why did they have to send shivers through her, those eyes? she wondered, as she turned away from him, in accordance with the dance. Why could they not have been green, or blue, or grey, or anything but copper?

The dance brought them together again.

“I can understand why the men hate machines,” continued Rebecca. She was determined not to succumb to the magnetism of the man before her: if she did that, he would surely relegate her, as a mere woman, to a subordinate role, and forbid her any real influence over her inheritance. But she was determined to play her part. Although she knew very little about running a mill she meant to use her part-ownership to make sure that the men and women who worked there did not suffer the draconian working conditions that were prevalent in some mills. This, she suspected, was the part her grandfather had meant her to play: bringing a softening influence to Joshua's hard and predatory nature. “The machines take away their jobs. I am not surprised they're resentful.”

“Being resentful is one thing,” he remarked. “Being violent is quite another. The Luddites are no respecters of persons. If they feel their livelihoods are threatened they are not above breaking into the homes of mill owners and holding them at gunpoint.”

“You are thinking of James Balderstone,” said Rebecca. The assault on James Balderstone had been in all the newspapers at the time. His house had been broken into by a mob, and he had been held at gunpoint by a number of Luddites whilst their fellows had smashed up one of his frames.

“Among others. And in some cases the situation has been even worse. In Stockport, a mob broke into one of the mills and destroyed the looms before turning their attention to the owner's house and setting it on fire.”

“Nevertheless, I intend to take an interest in my inheritance,” said Rebecca firmly. “Grandfather left me half the mill for a purpose and I don't want to let him down. Besides, he is right. I can't be content with sitting by the fire and knitting! I long for a challenge. I am too much like him to be content with idling my life away.”

To her surprise, she saw a look of respect and understanding cross Joshua's face. But then it disappeared, and she could tell that, no matter how much he might understand her feelings, he was not about to give in. He did not want a woman as a partner, and it would take more than a flash of respect to change his mind.

There was no time for anything further, however. The dance was drawing to its close. The last chords sounded and she turned to Joshua and dropped him a curtsey.

He made her a bow and then, offering her his arm, he escorted her to the side of the room. Hetty was waiting for them. The three of them enjoyed a little light conversation before Joshua made his excuses and left their side.

“My, you made a handsome couple,” said Hetty, unfolding her fan and wafting it in front of her face to create a cooling breeze. “It's such a pity that Joshua is too young to marry.” She gave a sigh. “He has too much drive and ambition to settle down. Perhaps, when he is older, and needs to set up his nursery... But never mind, there are plenty of eligible bachelors here tonight. Oh, look, here is Lord Henderton.” She caught sight of Rebecca's humorous expression and said ruefully, “I know you don't like me to play the part of the matchmaker, Rebecca, but I would so like to see you settled.”

“I promise you that if I ever fall in love I will be happy to marry,” she said. “But not until.”

“Well, I can ask for no more than that,” said Hetty. She turned towards the young nobleman. “Ah! Lord Henderton! How lovely to see you. I don't believe you know my niece.”

Lord Henderton professed himself eager to rectify that sad state of affairs, and before long Rebecca found him leading her out onto the floor. Lord Henderton turned out to be a good dancer and an agreeable companion, and she enjoyed the cotillion they danced together.

Hetty nobly refrained from asking her how she had found Lord Henderton when the dance came to an end, but Rebecca took pity on her, telling her that she had found him most agreeable.

“And there are a number of other young gentlemen here tonight who are equally agreeable,” said Hetty, eager to promote Rebecca's happiness. “You must let me introduce you to Mr Porter.” She wafted her fan in the direction of the gentleman in question. “He comes from a very good family, and his mother and I are old friends.”

Rebecca allowed Hetty to make the introduction, and then accepted Mr Porter's hand for the next dance. Like Lord Henderton, he was a pleasant and agreeable companion. But his closeness did not make her skin tingle...

After Mr Porter, Rebecca danced with a succession of pleasant and agreeable young men.

It was whilst she was dancing with Mr Yunge, however, that she became aware of another gentleman watching her with a puzzled expression. As soon as the dance ended he accosted her, saying, “Haven't we met somewhere before?”

Rebecca took in his bland, slack-featured face and shook her head. “I don't believe so.” Then, remembering that Joshua had been reminded of her grandfather on first meeting her, she said, “Perhaps you knew my grandfather, Jebadiah Marsden. There is a family resemblance, I believe.”

He shook his head. “No, I never knew Jebadiah Marsden.” He regarded her closely. It was somewhere recently that I saw you, I am certain. You have been in London for the winter?”

“No. I have only just arrived.”

“And you are sure we have never met?” he asked curiously.

“Positive.” Rebecca was firm.

He gave a sigh. “I could have sworn... oh, well I dare say it will come back to me.”

Rebecca murmured a polite nothing and returned to Hetty's side.

“I am glad you are getting to know some of the gentlemen here,” said Hetty, rather anxiously, “but if I can just give you a word of warning, Rebecca. The gentleman you were talking to just now — the slack-featured gentleman, George Lacy — he is not quite the thing.”

“Don't worry aunt,” teased Rebecca. “I promise not to form a tendre for him!”

To Rebecca's surprise, Hetty did not smile at her sally.

“That isn't what I mean,” said Hetty, shaking her head. “He has a malicious nature, and he delights in inflicting harm. He loves nothing better than to gossip — I declare he is worse than a woman in that way — and if he ever discovers something any decent person would keep quiet about, he noises it abroad. Oh! Not openly. That would be too dangerous for him. There are still gentlemen who are prepared to fight a duel if they feel their own of their wife's honour has been called into question. But nevertheless he finds a way of making it known.”

“Never fear,” said Rebecca. “He cannot hurt me. I have nothing to hide.”

“Even so, I would rather you kept away from him,” said Hetty worriedly.

“I shall do as you suggest,” said Rebecca. She had detected something underhand about Mr Lacy herself, and was happy to assure Hetty she had no intention of cultivating his acquaintance.

“Good.” Hetty was satisfied.

“Oh, look,” she said. “Here is Joshua. I believe he means to ask you for another dance.”

Rebecca felt her heart skip a beat. Dancing with Joshua had been difficult enough the first time. She did not trust herself to accept his hand for a second time. She must think of some excuse.

“May I have the honour of your hand for the next dance?” asked Joshua as he joined them at the side of the ballroom.

“I must beg to be excused,” Rebecca said. “I am feeling rather hot.”

“Indeed.” His eyes fixed on hers and held them for a long moment.

If she had not been hot before, she certainly was now!

As if convinced that she was indeed feeling heated by the delicate flush that sprang to her cheek, Joshua released her from his gaze, saying, “Then you must let me fetch you an ice.”

Rebecca accepted his offer and he strode off, to return a few minutes later with a refreshing confection.

By this time Hetty was deep in conversation with one of the other matrons, leaving Rebecca feeling vulnerable. As she took the ice she decided it was best to retreat once more into general conversation. She was just about to launch into a discussion of the war against France, asking Joshua whether he felt that Napoleon was indeed close to ultimate defeat, as the newspapers suggested, when she became aware of George Lacy's eyes on them.

“What is it?” asked Joshua, seeing her frown.

“That gentleman,” said Rebecca, her hand poised halfway to her mouth. “George Lacy. He is watching me.”

“That's hardly surprising,” said Joshua. His eyes warmed as they roved over her face, taking in her bright eyes and her naturally red lips, before dropping to her delicious curves, which were encased in her satin gown.

Rebecca blushed. “You must not say such things to me.”

She had not meant to say it. She had meant to smile politely, as she would have smiled politely at the pleasantries of any other gentleman. But she had not been equal to it.

He looked down at her more intently, and the mocking smile left his lips. “Why not, when they are true?” he asked.

Rebecca could think of no answer to this. Even so, she wished he would not say such things, or look at her in such a disturbing way. She was becoming prey to certain unsettling images, images of him sweeping her into his arms and kissing her on the lips, and she knew she must drive them away.

“Tell me,” she said, striving to turn the conversation into less disturbing channels, and falling back on her earlier idea of discussing Napoleon. “What do you think of Napoleon's chances, now that so many countries have entered a coalition against him?”

“Determined to talk of commonplaces?” he asked with a quizzical look.

She could think of no suitable reply, and covered her silence by taking a spoonful of ice.

Then his quizzical look vanished, and Rebecca realized he had seen the wisdom of this himself.

“Very well,” he said. “I think that Napoleon was a fool to invade Russia last year. I think his defeat at the Battle of the Nations in October spelt his doom, and I think the Coalition will eventually beat him. He's a great general, but not even he can stand out against Russia, Prussia, Sweden, Austria and Bavaria when they are all united against him.” He gave a wry smile, then said unexpectedly, “I also think his defeat will be very bad for business.”

Rebecca was startled. “Bad for business?”

Joshua nodded. “Supplying the army with the material for their uniforms has been very lucrative for the mills.”

Rebecca laughed. “Do you ever stop thinking of business?” she asked.

“Not often.”

She smiled. “I suppose I should be pleased. It is a good trait to have in a partner.”

She finished her ice.

“You are still determined not to sell me your share of the mill?” he asked.

“I am.”

“Think it over carefully, Rebecca. Remember, the problems with the Luddites could flare up again at any time. I don't want you putting yourself in danger.”

There was a spark of something unfathomable in his eyes as he said it, and for a moment she had the wild idea that he was concerned about her.

But of course he was concerned, she reminded herself a moment later. He was concerned because she was Jebadiah's grand-daughter. And Joshua had been very fond of Jebadiah.

“I don't intend to put myself in danger,” she reassured him, putting her empty dish on a silver tray as a footman walked by. “But I intend to take an interest in my inheritance. You must reconcile yourself to my visiting the mill in order to acquaint myself with it.”

Joshua gave a wry smile. “Your grandfather often spoke about you, but he neglected to tell me about your stubborn streak. It is almost as strong as my own.”

At that moment Lady Cranston approached them and introduced a nervous young lady fresh from the schoolroom. Joshua, doing his duty, fell in with Lady Cranston's unspoken wishes and politely asked the young lady to dance.

Hetty was still busy chattering to one of her friends, and seeing that she was occupied Rebecca felt free to slip out of the room. Despite her ice she was still feeling overheated and wanted to retreat to somewhere cooler and quieter for a few minutes.

It was certainly cooler in the corridor than the ballroom, but with all the candles in the magnificent chandeliers, it was still hot.

She opened one of the doors that led off from the corridor, and found herself in a small anteroom, which on closer inspection turned out to be a pretty little morning-room. A fire was lit but it was banked down. The coals showed blackly against the white marble fireplace, and the atmosphere was pleasantly cool.

Rebecca closed the door behind her. She was pleased to have found somewhere to rest, and she was relieved to be alone.

She had found being with Joshua unsettling. He was like no other man she had ever met. He was ruthless and hard in many ways, and yet there was an unmistakeable warmth underneath.

Was it the contrast between his hard surface and his inner warmth that attracted her? she wondered. For she could no longer hide from herself the fact that she was attracted to him. Whenever he was near her she found her thoughts wandering down new and unsettling paths, and try as she might she could not stop them.

She sighed, and wandered over to the window. She would give herself a few minutes in the morning-room to cool down and then return to the ballroom. Looking round she tried to find something to distract her thoughts. Ah! A collection of miniatures. They hung next to the window, on the gold-painted wall. She moved closer to study them. They were exquisitely executed, and she was just marvelling over the detail in them when the door opened. She turned round... and saw George Lacy enter the room.

“Mr Lacy!” she exclaimed. She was not pleased to see him. Of all the guests at the ball, he was the one she least wanted to see. Especially now, when she had been hoping for a few minutes peace.

“Miss Fossington,” he replied.

He did not seem surprised to see her and his attitude, as though he had expected to find her there, made her feel on edge. She examined him warily. Of middle height, he appeared to be about forty years of age. He was well dressed, his striped yellow waistcoat contrasting with his blue tailcoat and his white linen, but even so, there was a sharp look in his eye.

“I was just about to return to the ballroom,” she said. Her aunt's warnings were clear in her mind, and she was determined to leave the room at once. But as she passed him on the way to the door he suddenly lunged at her. His arms wrapped themselves round her like steel wires and she smelt the rancidness of his breath as he tried to fasten his mouth on hers. His action was as shocking as it was unexpected, and in horror Rebecca pushed him away.

“Come now, no need to play the innocent,” he said insinuatingly. He approached her again. “Just a little kiss, that's all I ask.”

To her annoyance, Rebecca found that she was shaking. “Have you taken leave of your senses?” she demanded, rapidly regaining control of herself. She drew herself up and said, with as much authority as she could muster, “Let me pass.”

“Quite the little actress, aren't we?” he sneered. “But I know what you really are. That virtuous pose won't wash with me.”

He lunged at her again, and this time he managed to clamp his lips to her own. She shut her mouth firmly and stamped down hard on his foot.

He let out a cry of rage. It had the fortunate effect of making his mouth leave hers, but then he lunged for her again. She backed away. She fumbled behind her in an effort to grasp one of the candlesticks that stood on the mantelpiece. It would make an effective weapon. But just as her fingers closed around it the door opened and Joshua was revealed in the doorway.

It took Joshua only a second to take in what was happening and then he was across the room and lifting Lacy bodily away from Rebecca, before turning and depositing him none too gently on the ground again. Joshua's bulk was now between Lacy and Rebecca, protecting her from any further attack.

“You're a damned cur, Lacy,” he snarled. “I suggest you apologize to the lady at once.”

He stepped aside so that Lacy could do so, watching him all the time to make sure that he did not try to attack Rebecca again. But instead of complying, Lacy only flicked the lace at his wrists and straightened his cravat. Then he jeered, “Lady? Oh, no, Kelling, I don't think so.”

He looked from Joshua to Rebecca and back again. He was beginning to regain his confidence now that Joshua had let him go, and he continued more boldly. “I knew I'd seen her somewhere before but I couldn't think where. And then it came back to me. When I saw her dancing with you, I realized I'd seen the two of you together, and then I remembered where it was. It was at The Nag's Head.”

Rebecca felt her spirits sink.

“Looking a bit smarter than the last time I saw you, aren't you?” sneered Lacy, warming to his theme. “You were wearing nothing but breeches then, if I remember correctly. Not the sort of sight for a "lady", eh? Kelling? And Rebecca... She was more chastely dressed, I admit, but I don't suppose that state of affairs existed for very long, did it? Not after I heard you asking her to share your bed. A pity I didn't get to see the finale; that would have been something! I only got to see the opening act. Still, it was enough.” He rubbed his bruised arm. “You wanted to conduct your little affair in secret, didn't you? You thought you could go out to The Nag's Head and have the "lady" in your room with no one being the wiser. But you were wrong. Because I was there, Kelling, and I saw the two of you together. And what's more, before this evening's over, everyone else will know it too.”

Rebecca felt her stomach churn. Lacy had seen them together at The Nag's Head, when she was arguing with Joshua over the room. The door, she remembered, had been open, because she had not wanted to close it, for to do so would have been to shut herself in with a stranger. It was the worst thing that could possibly have happened. Although the encounter had been innocent, no one would believe it. Indeed, Lacy himself did not believe it. Having seen her talking to Joshua whilst Joshua had been in a state of partial undress, and having heard Joshua invite her to share his bed, he had drawn his own conclusions. And now he meant to noise them abroad.

Her spirits sank still further as she realized that her reputation was ruined.

But she had reckoned without Joshua's strength of character.

“I don't think so.” His voice was like steel.

“Oh, don't you?” jeered Lacy. “Well, perhaps if your mistress had been more accommodating, and perhaps if you hadn't manhandled me, then I might have been persuaded to keep what I know to myself. But as it is...”

His voice tailed away. He had started his speech full of confidence, but at the word "mistress" the atmosphere had changed, and a deadly silence now filled the room.

Lacy glanced nervously at Joshua and backed away.

There was a moment of tense silence. “Then, tell me, Lacy,” said Joshua. “How are you with a pistol?” He spoke conversationally, but the air suddenly felt as tight as a drum, as though one wrong word or gesture would rupture it.

Lacy felt it. He fingered his collar nervously, as though he was finding it difficult to breath. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that if you blacken Miss Fossington's name in any way, you will find yourself needing one,” said Joshua levelly.

Lacy gave a bark of laughter, but it was forced. “You wouldn't fight a duel over her,” he said with bravado. “She's not your wife. She's nothing but your strumpet. Besides, duels aren't for your kind.” He sneered again. “You're in trade, Kelling. You're not even a gentleman.”

“I count four,” said Joshua calmly.

Lacy looked at him suspiciously.

“Four reasons for calling you out,” Joshua elaborated. “One, your attack on Miss Fossington; two, your threat to spread gossip about the lady and myself; three, your slur on the lady's character; and four, your slur on my right to call myself a gentleman.”

Lacy licked his lips.

“You are the only person to know of the incident at The Nag's Head,” went on Joshua, his eyes hard. “If I discover that anyone else knows about it, I will know who has been spreading the rumour. And I, Lacy, am a very good shot.”

Lacy looked from one to the other of them, as if trying to decide whether it would be worth his while to resort to some kind of blackmail. But one look at Joshua's implacable features decided him. “Very well,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will keep quiet.”

“A wise choice,” said Joshua evenly. He strode over to the door and held it open.

Lacy, with a last furtive look, slipped out of the room.

With his departure, some of the tension that had filled the room began to dissipate. Rebecca let out sigh of relief. Without realizing it, she had been holding her breath.

Joshua, whose eyes had followed Lacy out of the room, turned to look at her.

As she felt his eyes on her, Rebecca felt suddenly awkward. He was taking in every detail of her: the flush on her cheeks; her rapid breathing; and the rise and fall of her breast.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his eyes returning to her own.

“No.” She remembered Lacy's attack on her, and was thankful that Joshua had arrived when he did — although she had given a good account of herself before he had entered the room. In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, which was still tense, though now in a subtly different way, she gave a weak smile and said, “Though I believe I hurt him. I stamped on his foot when he tried to kiss me.”

He smiled, too. Then his eyes mellowed, and the hard line of his mouth softened. “I hope you would not stamp on my foot if—” he began; before cutting himself off.

There was a heart-stopping moment and everything was suddenly very still. Rebecca could hear the coals shifting in the hearth. As if some unseen force was compelling her to do so, she turned her eyes up to his. “If—?” she whispered. Her voice trembled, but the rest of her was rigid. It was as though she was waiting for something. But what?

“If...” said Josh, his voice suddenly husky.

He was looking incredibly desirable. Standing there before her in the candlelight, with the flames painting gold highlights into his dark blond hair and with copper sparks flashing from his eyes, he was the most devastatingly attractive man Rebecca had ever seen. But it was not just his mane of dark blond hair and his copper eyes that made him so attractive, it was the force of his character; a force which echoed her own. He crossed the space between them and took her hands between his, whilst all the time his eyes never left hers. He stroked his strong fingers over the backs of her hand then turned them over and stroked the palms.

He dropped one of her hands, and she felt torn, both relieved that he had let it go, and yet devastated that he had done so.

But he kept hold of her other hand. He kissed the back of it, then stripping off her long white evening glove he kissed it again, turning it over and kissing her palm before trailing kisses up her arm. She gave a long, shuddering sigh, and as if it released something inside him he abandoned convention entirely and pulled her roughly into his embrace.

His eyes bored down into her own. It was as though he was looking through them into her very soul. His mouth came closer and her lips began to part. She could feel the heat of his breath, clean and sweet, and her eyelids, heavy, started to close. She felt his arms drawing her closer, crushing her against him in a virile embrace; she could almost taste his lips, and then —

A loud crash from just outside the room penetrated the spellbinding aura that surrounded her. She became gradually aware that there was a world beyond the one encircled by Joshua's arms, and knew that she must rejoin it.

He knew it, too. He was pulling away from her, dropping his arms, letting her go ... .

She swayed for a moment, not yet able to stand without his support, then made a great effort and managed to steady herself. As she did so she began to remember where she was, and to realize what had just happened.

Oh, no! she thought, overcome with mortification. Despite all her resolutions to the contrary she had almost succumbed to Joshua's powerful attraction.

“I... I must go,” she said, wondering what had come over her. How could she have become so lost to all sense that she would allow Joshua to pull her into his arms? She picked up her glove and pulled it on with shaking fingers. “Hetty will be wondering where I am.”

“Of course.” His voice was husky.

To Rebecca's relief he stood aside so that she could pass.

“But you will not find Hetty in the ballroom,” he said. “She has had to retire to the ladies withdrawing-room. Mr Korbett stood on her gown in the boulanger and ripped the hem. She asked me to explain her absence and tell you she will return to the ballroom as soon as her dress has been mended.”

“So that is what brought you here at such an opportune moment,” said Rebecca.

“That. Or fate.” He looked down at her with an enigmatic expression on his face.

Her eyelids drooped. The atmosphere was again becoming charged. She must leave. At once. Whilst she still could.

With a great effort she stirred herself. She gave herself a moment to gather her wits. Then, smoothing her skirt, which had become crushed when Joshua had pulled her into his arms, she went out into the hall.

As she did so she caught sight of a wisp of white muslin whisking round the corner. She noticed that one of the chairs lining the corridor was a little out of place, and guessed that one of the young ladies at the ball must have knocked it over, causing the crash she and Joshua had heard.

For a worrying moment she wondered if the young lady could have overheard her conversation with George Lacy. But then she dismissed the idea. What well bred young lady would listen at a door?

She patted her hair, unfurled her fan, and then making an effort to appear calm and unruffled, she returned to the ballroom. Just before she went in she took a moment to glance at herself in a gilded looking-glass hanging on the wall. To her surprise — and her profound relief — no trace of what had just passed between her and Joshua could be seen. She had thought it must be clear to all the world that he had pulled her roughly into his arms, and that she had turned up her face in willing expectation of his kiss. But she looked serene. No one would guess, from looking at her, that inside her emotions were a conflicting mass of unresolved feelings. Why had Joshua kissed her hand? Why had he stripped off her glove? Why had she let him? Why had he dragged her into his arms? And why had she not recoiled in horror when he had done so, instead of melting into his arms as though she had been born to do it?

These were questions she could not answer. They disturbed her deeply, and shook her to the roots of everything she knew — or thought she knew — about herself.

But this was not the time or the place to consider them. No matter how difficult it was, she must push them aside. She took a deep breath and then she went through into the ballroom.

Fortunately she had not been missed. Hetty had not yet returned to the ballroom, and Charles was partnering an elderly dowager on the dance floor. By the time Hetty returned, Rebecca was able to laugh and dance, and it appeared as though nothing untoward had happened.

Joshua remained in the morning-room in order to give Rebecca time to rejoin their fellow guests. It would not have done for them to return together in case their joint return had given rise to speculation about their absence. The situation was difficult enough, with George Lacy having seen them together at The Nag's Head. The last thing Joshua wanted to do was to expose Rebecca to any more harmful gossip.

But that was not the only thought to plague him. Whilst he waited in the morning-room he asked himself what he had been thinking of in taking Rebecca into his arms. As soon as he had rescued her from the clutches of George Lacy he should have encouraged her to return to the ballroom. Instead of which he had given way to his feelings, dragging her into his embrace. It was only the timely intervention of the crash from outside the room that had prevented him from kissing her.

And oh! how he had wanted to. He had never been so tempted in all his life. It had been bad enough when he had kissed her hands — and what madness had induced him to strip off her glove? — but when he had felt her soft body pressing against him as he had embraced her, when she had turned her face up to his, the temptation had been overwhelming.

That she had not known what she was doing had been clear enough. If he had not known that she was an innocent in the ways of men and women from hearing Jebadiah speak of her, he would still have recognized it for himself. She had let a protected life, and her innocence was palpable. And yet when she had turned up her face it had almost undone him.

He shook his head in bewilderment. How had it happened? If she had been a great beauty he could have understood it. But Rebecca was not beautiful. And yet she roused in him feelings the like of which he had never known. Feelings that were too strong to deny.

He paced the room. His encounter with Rebecca had left him filled with a restless energy, and he needed to do something to dispel it.

He still could not believe that he had almost kissed her. If he had done so...

He did not want to think about it.

Fortunately he had been saved from taking such an irrevocable step by the crash outside. Because if not for that he would have kissed her and then his fate would have been sealed. For having kissed her he would have had to offer her marriage.

Marriage!

He shuddered as he thought of it.

Marriage was not for him.

When he was eight-and-thirty, perhaps, and had a dynasty to found. But not at eight-and-twenty.

As his thoughts returned to George Lacy, however, he began to realize that he must offer her marriage anyway, whatever his personal feelings might be. Because if Lacy had seen them together at The Nag's Head then someone else could have seen them there as well.

Damn! He had never even considered this complication after he had spoken to her at the inn. It had never occurred to him that by being alone with her, however unwittingly, in one of The Nag's Head's bedrooms, he had compromised her. And if it had occurred to him at the time he would not have cared. Rebecca had been nothing to him then; no one; and he would not have felt obliged to offer her marriage: Society, he knew, would have expected it, but he had never allowed himself to be dictated to by anyone, and certainly not by Society.

But now that he knew who she was, and realized that they had been seen, he would have to offer her marriage anyway. It was not because of Lacy — Lacy would not talk, he was too much of a coward — but someone else might have seen them, and he would do nothing to risk the reputation of Jebadiah's granddaughter.

His face softened as he thought of his godfather. It was Jebadiah who had supported him in his desire to learn about the cotton mills that were springing up in the north, bringing wealth to the area and the country as a whole; Jebadiah who had reasoned with Joshua's family, telling them that trade did not sully the hands of a gentleman, but instead encouraged enterprise and self- reliance; and Jebadiah who, sensing a kindred spirit in Joshua, comprising a ruthless determination and a sharp ambition, had helped him achieve his goals.

He owed everything he was to Jebadiah. And he would not repay the old man by bringing disgrace to Rebecca.

It was a damned nuisance, he thought, running his hand through his mane of hair. He did not want to marry, no matter how desirable he found Rebecca. And yet it must be done. He knew where his duty lay.

What was that Hetty had said earlier in the evening? That she intended to take Rebecca to visit Frost Fair tomorrow? Very well. He would meet Rebecca there, and tell her of his plan. He and Rebecca would become betrothed. And at the earliest opportunity they would be married.