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‘I beg you to believe that what I say to you is not just fine words, such as any man might produce to sway the uncertain feelings of a woman and tempt her to accept his suit when she might otherwise – for good reason – hesitate to do so. Such men will go back on their promises as easily as they change their coats, when the woman is won and she can no longer free herself, and all reproaches are useless. I am not like that. I mean what I say and I will stick to it. I will not have you be the loser in any way if you take me.’

‘What does that mean, though, Xan, in your mind?’ she said again. It was very hard to be sensible, with him at her feet, his eyes ardent, the intensity of his focus on her making her dizzy. But she must.

‘I know you have not the least desire to be a countess, just as I had no wish to be an earl – but I had no choice, of course, and you do. I know that my position in society, which would be a great incentive to many other women, is instead a deterring factor for you, Bianca. I know I cannot offer you riches as a reason to accept me – not that I ever would – because you have them already in your own right. So all that I have to offer is myself, and my love, and it may not be enough.’

He was silent for a moment, as if choosing his words very carefully, and then went on, ‘I do not wish to deprive you of your freedom, which I know is so precious to you. I would not ask you to be in London if you did not wish to be in London, or in Somerset if you found you did not like it, or had somewhere else you wished to be. I would not ask you to be in England if you desired to be elsewhere, or to spend time with me if you did not wish to. I would not ask you to have children if you did not want them. I would never try to use Adrian’s fondness for you as a trap – that is the last thing in the world I would desire to do. I know you are an artist and I would never dream for a second of requiring you not to pursue that avocation; indeed, I hope you will continue to do so to the best of your ability, for I think you have greatness in you. I see it in every picture you create. It would be the highest honour I could imagine to see that greatness bloom and grow and reach its fruition, and know that if I had not helped it, because I could not, at least I had done nothing to hinder it.’

What he seemed to be suggesting took her breath away. She said slowly, ‘Xan, if I understand you correctly, what you are offering me is not a marriage as most people currently understand it – and can have no basis in law. Married women are not granted that sort of freedom. There is no… no mechanism for it.’

‘I don’t care. I’ll make one. I will write it all in our marriage settlement, as plainly as is possible, and make sure the penalties on me if I fail are harsh as could be. But Bianca, my love, there is no point in me being anything less than completely honest at this moment. It is too important for both of us to permit any hint of deception. I am very well aware that even with such a document, there has to be a great element of trust between us. Because the one thing I cannot do is set you free legally – wipe out our marriage as if it had never been, if you should come to want that. A divorce would take an Act of Parliament, which I think most unlikely to be granted in such unusual circumstances. You could walk away and never set eyes on me again, of course, and I must swear to let you go though I know it would half-kill me. But you would always be my wife while I drew breath, and I know you might not want such a permanent tie. Of course I hope it would never come to that. I hope we would be happy and content for all of our lives, however we spent them. But I have tried to think of everything, and hope I have succeeded.’

She was staring at him, and could not seem to stop. ‘I… I don’t know what to say. My head is whirling, Xan.’

‘Don’t answer me now. Take some time to think about it. I daresay you can’t have been expecting me to say such a thing.’

‘I certainly did not!’

He smiled up at her. ‘It’s not a whim. I mean every word, my dearest love. The plain truth is, I want you in my life. A week with you, if you have come to me freely, means more to me than a year – a lifetime – with anyone else. And the strange thing is that admitting this to you, and to myself, makes me feel freer too. I am coming to realise that I have always lived in a prison of others’ expectations of me – both my parents, my brother, even poor Louise – but now I am choosing this for myself with my eyes wide open.’

After a moment she said softly, ‘Thank you for understanding me, and seeing me. I do need some time to absorb the implications of all that you have said to me. And Xan… I don’t know what I am going to say to you, but please know that if in the end I cannot… I cannot accept your extraordinary offer, it would be…’ She broke off, frowning. It was so hard to put her emotions into words, or even into thoughts. ‘It would not be because of any lack of trust in you, or because I do not fully believe that you are sincere. Nor’ – and here her voice cracked a little, but she pressed on – ‘nor any lack of love. No, it’s not that at all. It would be, I think, because I felt I could not trust myself. Does that make sense?’

At some point during this little speech, she had reached out and taken his hands, and he clasped hers in return, the pressure warm and reassuring. ‘Yes, my love. And I hope I do not sound like the worst coxcomb in the world if I say that I am excessively proud to be the man who has made you not trust yourself. What more could I ask?’

He rose to his feet, and she joined him, with a pang of regret that she suppressed. ‘I will still leave tomorrow, and I do not think I will give you an answer before then. I am sorry not to be able to give Adrian more than a lesson or two; I hope he will forgive me, and you will.’ Suddenly she knew where she wanted to be, while she thought hard about her future and all its possibilities, its dangers and its temptations.

‘I will make him understand that you have a life of your own, as every person does, and that he and I are greatly in your debt already,’ he said sombrely. ‘In any case, I shall take him down to Fairmount to convalesce, as soon as the doctor says he is fit to travel, which I hope will be soon. I want very much to kiss you before you go, but I shall not.’

‘No, you had best not.’ They were still standing very close. ‘And I shall not kiss you. That would be unwise.’

He reached out and caressed her cheek, his fingers running gently across her lips, making her shiver with desire. When so many things in life were uncertain, that was not. ‘Most unwise.’

‘Horribly unwise.’ She pulled his head down and kissed him fiercely, deeply, but all too briefly, and then she fled, while she still could.

56

ALBERY HALL, SUFFOLK

Miss Constantine had returned to Sabrina’s house on the day that she had fixed upon; standing in the doorway of the sitting room, so that she did not get too close, she told her sister that she was possessed by a sudden urge to go down to Suffolk and see Beatrice and Cecilia, though she would postpone visiting the latter at her new home until a week or more had elapsed and all danger of infection to her sister and the child she carried must be considered to have passed.

‘What happened across the square?’ Sabrina had asked, looking quizzically up at her. ‘I can see that something dramatic did, though I am glad indeed to hear that the poor little boy is better.’

‘Lord Fairmount proposed to me,’ Bianca responded, aware that her facial expression must be most curious. ‘He presented me with a vision of the most extraordinary liberty in marriage that I think any woman can ever have been offered. It makes my head spin, to be plain with you. And I have said that I will think about it. So I’m going to Suffolk, where it is quiet, to do that. I’ve told him so, and now I’m telling you. Though obviously I’d be most grateful – for his sake more than mine, Sabrina – if you would not pass this information on to anyone else besides Viola and Allegra. There’s no point asking you to promise not to tell them; I know you won’t be able to help yourself, and I don’t blame you for it, for I would be just the same in your place. But he, Lord Fairmount, does not deserve to be the talk of London again.’

Sabrina, highly intrigued, assured her that she would not speak of the matter to a soul other than their sisters, and Bianca left her, to pack, or more accurately, to moon about, not packing or doing anything else in the least useful, but only gazing out across the square and wondering what he was doing as he waited to hear what she had decided.

* * *

Viola, hearing the news of the proposed expedition, had offered the loan of her travelling carriage, since she was fixed in London for the time being and misliked the idea of Bianca travelling a hundred miles alone in a hired chaise, with all the disagreeable treatment and anxiety this must entail. Miss Constantine therefore went down to Suffolk in great style a couple of days later, in a crested ducal coach, complete with liveried outriders charged with her protection. It was undoubtedly much more comfortable, in physical terms, than travelling post, and this must be welcome, but the rest of it – the bowing and scraping from the innkeepers, the way people in towns and villages stared as the glossy vehicle and four fine horses passed by – she wasn’t at all sure she cared for it. And it was impossible not to reflect that the Countess of Fairmount might well be expected to make all her journeys in a similar fashion. Expected by whom? That was the question. And what would happen if those expectations were not fulfilled? Would the world crumble, or survive the shock?

Bianca had written to tell her sister that she was coming as soon as she’d made the decision to leave London, and so Bea was waiting under the pink climbing roses that surrounded the door as the smart coach crunched over the gravel. No doubt the outriders, who had galloped ahead for the last mile or so of the trip, had given her sufficient warning. The sisters embraced, clinging to each other for a moment in an unexpected rush of emotion, while Jem the gardener led the fine equipage round to the stable block, which could not have been so full of fancy horseflesh for many, many years. The redoubtable housekeeper and cook, Mrs Pritty, could be trusted to look after the Duchess’s superior servants and send them away happy.

A few moments later, the two women were sitting together in the cosy sitting room that so resembled their mother’s sanctum in the house they had grown up in and then lost. ‘It’s so good to be here, and to see you, Bea,’ Bianca said a little gruffly. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t come down sooner. A great deal has been happening since I arrived in London.’

‘So I understand,’ said Beatrice drily. ‘I have had what seems like a deluge of recent letters, though I suppose it was only four – yours, and everyone else’s, offering their separate views of your current situation. So I have some idea what has been going on. But I promise you I will not attempt to persuade you towards any particular course of action. You may well have had enough of that, even in Mama’s absence.’

‘Not really, in truth, but people have been matchmaking, colluding behind my back, and I am glad to be away from all that subtle pressure so that I can think clearly.’ Bianca sighed and settled back into the very comfortable brocade armchair. It was so restful not to have to do enormous amounts of explaining before she had caught her breath. Later, she thought, she might attempt to formulate and share all the conflicting thoughts that were whirling around her head and keeping her awake at night. But it didn’t need to be now. There would soon be tea, and the Suffolk honey cake that she had missed so much when abroad.

‘Where’s Vivienne?’ she asked with a little sudden anxiety. Glad as she was to be alone with Beatrice, she did not by any means wish to drive her sister’s lover from the home they shared.