niece. Mattie made sure of it. Mattie liked to take care of all contingencies and I trusted her.’ Miss Daphne reached out her hand. ‘But I think I deserve to know what happened with young Jonathon and make my own judgement. You want to run away from me because of it.’
‘What happened to me, happened years ago. It is a depressingly old and familiar tale.’ Louisa attempted a smile. ‘I learnt my lesson. Believing a gentleman who promises the moon leads to disappointment. Miss Mattie agreed with me.’
‘I want the story and not the aftermath. The aftermath I know. What passed between you all those years ago?’
Louisa swallowed hard, considering how to tell her tale. She had been an impressionable twenty years old and had thought her fairy tale was coming true—a handsome prince who married for love instead of duty. She should have seen the warning signs—the bored rake home from London, the seduction, and then her giving in and believing him when he had promised to return with a licence to marry her. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had dismissed her without a character reference when rumours had reached her ears. Then, three months later, she had discovered that she was pregnant and had gone to Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s, searching for Jonathon, and had discovered about the impending marriage between Jonathon and Clarissa. When on the voyage to Naples, she had fallen ill with a high fever and the baby had been born too early—a beautiful little girl with translucent skin and jet-black hair, perfect in every way, except she never breathed. A large part of Louisa had died that day.
‘Miss Daphne, he is part of my painful past, not my future.’ Louisa put her hand over Miss Daphne’s withered one as she finished the story. ‘But you can see why I must return to Sorrento. I do not want any rumours to soil your skirts.’
‘No, no, that would be giving into the pompous society prigs without a fight. You must stay.’ Two pink spots appeared on Miss Daphne’s withered cheeks. ‘I can fight. I am unafraid and I stick by my true friends.’
‘I know.’ Louisa smiled back.
She valued Miss Daphne’s friendship. It was why she had agreed to this trip and why she knew she would stay until Miss Daphne wanted to leave, but it was unfair to ask Miss Daphne to fight those sorts of battles at her age.
Louisa knew she had made a mistake, and some day she would stop paying for it. She leant forwards and banished tonight’s kiss to the further reaches of her mind. Her reaction was an aberration brought on by suddenly seeing him again. Now that she was prepared, nothing like that would ever happen again.
‘I am no fool and will not make that mistake again.’
‘You are certain of that?’ Miss Daphne’s eyes took on a knowing gleam. ‘I have some knowledge of human nature, Louisa, despite being a spinster. Men seldom look at women like Lord Chesterholm looked at you if they are uninterested.’
Louisa concentrated on gathering up the cups and saucers, arranging them neatly on the tray, ready for Jenkins, the butler, to remove it, rather than meeting Miss Daphne’s knowing gaze. ‘Miss Daphne, you are beginning to speculate. Speculation overheats the blood as Miss Mattie was wont to say. A woman can learn from her mistakes. I learnt from mine.’
‘Hmm, but what are his intentions now? I have often found men with fascinating eyes can make a woman forget her lessons. And Lord Chesterholm has some of the most fascinating I have seen in many a long year.’
‘Your eyesight must be mistaken.’ Louisa focused on the cups and tried not to think about Jonathon’s preposterous suggestion that he had a claim over her. She was not an object. Miss Daphne’s eyes assessed her for a long moment but Louisa looked back unblinkingly. Finally Miss Daphne turned away.
‘I accept you want to believe that, Louisa.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Please ask Cook to make iced buns for my At Home tomorrow.’
‘Iced buns?’ Louisa frowned. Miss Daphne never served teacakes at At Homes. The women had a cup of tea or coffee, but never iced buns. The whole procedure was shrouded in tradition, even on the hottest days in Sorrento.
‘I am expecting callers, gentlemen callers. You did make an impression, Louisa, even if you wish to deny it.’ Miss Daphne tapped the side of her nose. ‘And if I am right, tomorrow’s At Home will be highly productive. One must fight fire with fire. And then, Louisa, when it is all done, we can go home with our heads held high.’
Miss Daphne swept out of the room.
Louisa stared at the dregs of her hot chocolate, turning the conversation over in her mind. It made a sort of sickening sense. Miss Daphne expected Jonathon to appear alongside Lord Furniss. Louisa reached for the poker and gave the coal fire a final stir, sending an arch of flame into the air.
All she knew was that she could not remain in this drawing room like some scared rabbit, waiting for Jonathon to appear. She had stopped running years ago. Jonathon deserved to learn a lesson in civility and she looked forward to administering it. Miss Mattie would have approved.
‘Miss Daphne,’ Louisa called on her way to bed, ‘the At Home will go splendidly tomorrow. I can feel it in my bones.’
The clock on the mantelpiece was only a few minutes away from twelve. Last night in bed, Louisa had dreaded that Jonathon would arrive bright and early, but now she dreaded that Miss Daphne’s premonition was wrong. The sole callers were a Mrs Blandish and her two daughters.
Once the At Home was finished, she would confront Jonathon, corner him and force him to back down. He would cease to threaten her or her good name.
Louisa risked a breath and tried once again to concentrate on the conversation between Miss Daphne and the younger Miss Blandish, a conversation that appeared to have Miss Daphne enthralled beyond the bounds of propriety. The conversation appeared to revolve around Miss Nella Blandish’s exploits with a gang of murderous thieves earlier that summer in Gilsland.
‘And now my former governess, Miss Milton, is married to Viscount Ravensworth,’ Miss Nella Blandish finished with a triumphal clap of her hands. ‘I received the letter this very morning. And the entire marriage is thanks to me.’
‘That is quite enough, Nella.’ The elder Miss Blandish gave a prolonged sniff and toss of her blonde curls. She would be pretty if she did not look so bored with the proceedings. As it was, Miss Blandish reminded Louisa of Clarissa Newton—beautiful, but self-absorbed. ‘We all understand that we were not invited to the wedding.’
‘Lord Ravensworth procured a special licence, rather than having a society wedding,’ her mother said with a thoughtful expression. ‘It is how a governess can come to marry a viscount. Personally I never thought Daisy Milton had it in her, but it turns out she was an heiress all along.’
‘Daisy Milton?’ Louisa said, sitting bolt upright, all thoughts of ending the visit fled. ‘Daisy Milton, who has a sister Felicity and a young niece?’
‘That is correct. Do you have a connection?’ Mrs Blandish raised her lorgnette and proceeded to minutely examine Louisa.
‘Daisy Milton is an old friend of mine, but I had no idea that she was even engaged. Let alone entangled with jewel thieves.’ Louisa put her hands to her mouth. She dreaded to think how Daisy had coped. Daisy had based her entire existence on keeping her reputation spotless. ‘I look forward to receiving her latest letter.’
‘Indeed,’ Mrs Blandish said, settling herself against the sofa’s cushions. Her tone implied that Daisy might not have time for such an acquaintance now that she had been elevated to a peerage.
‘You do seem to be hearing news about your old acquaintances, Louisa dear,’ Miss Daphne said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘And here you thought you would not have any connection to Newcastle.’
‘Do you know someone else?’ Miss Blandish asked, suddenly becoming animated. ‘Is it someone we know? Someone in society?’
Louisa inwardly seethed. If only Miss Daphne had had the sense to remain quiet. People had