‘How comes it that you are separated from your friends, Miss Bourne?’

‘Oh, as to that I…’ Her words trailed off. He felt the weight of her on his arm.

‘Miss Bourne, are you ill?’

‘I beg your pardon, I—that is, I have not eaten for a few days…’

She was near to collapse. Nathan quickly revised his plans.

‘If you can walk a little further, I have lodgings near here in the Canton Grande. Allow me to take you there, and when you are fed and rested we will continue.’

A slight nod was the only answer he received. He put his arm around her and led her through the narrow streets to a neat house whose wide door and shuttered window sheltered beneath a mirador, an upper-floor balcony completely enclosed by glass panels. He saw his man sitting in the doorway, smoking his pipe.

‘Sam, run and fetch Señora Benitez!’

‘Now that I can’t do, Major,’ Sam replied slowly. ‘She’s gone to stay with ’er daughter for a couple o’days. She told you so herself, this morning, if you remember.’

‘Damnation, so she did.’

Felicity gave a little moan and collapsed against him. Swiftly he lifted her into his arms. She was surprisingly light, and fitted snugly against his heart. Something stirred within him.

‘And just what have we here, sir?’ asked Sam, jabbing his pipe at Felicity.

Nathan allowed himself a swift, wry smile. ‘A damsel in distress, Sam. Go ahead of me and open the door, man.’

‘You ain’t never going to put her in your room!’

‘Where the devil do you expect me to put her?’

‘Well, there’s always the nuns…’

‘No.’ Nathan’s arms tightened around her. He remembered the look in her eyes when she had turned to him. It was a mixture of trust and dependence and something more, a connection that he could not explain, but neither could he ignore it. ‘No,’ he said again. ‘I shall look after her.’

‘Well my love, you can be easy now,’ said Lydia at breakfast a few days later. ‘James and Rosthorne have gone off to Dover to meet the royal visitors and bring them back to London. The Prince is planning a royal procession through the town to St James’s Palace and James has hired rooms for us overlooking the route, so we will be able to watch the procession in comfort.’

Felicity received the news with mixed feelings. She should be relieved that there was no possibility of meeting Nathan for a while, instead she was disappointed.

‘Will Sir James and the earl be riding in the procession?’ She tried to sound indifferent but she blushed when she looked up and found Lydia smiling at her.

‘Yes they will. James tells me the Prince has insisted that Rosthorne should wear his dress uniform: he will look so dashing that I am sure all the ladies will be swooning over him.’

Felicity scowled into her coffee cup.

‘Let them swoon,’ she muttered. ‘I am sure I do not care!’

But when the day arrived Felicity could not deny a frisson of excitement as she and Lydia sat in the window of the hired room.

‘People have been gathering since dawn,’ remarked Lydia. ‘Everyone is eager to see the Emperor. They have even erected stands along the route, but I doubt that even they will have such a fine view as this.’

There was a sudden stir in the crowds below.

‘They are coming,’ declared Lydia, leaning towards the open window.

Felicity could hear the rattle of drums. A cheer went up as the cavalcade approached, a long column of bright colours and nodding plumes. Felicity watched, fascinated by the never-ending ranks of soldiers and dignitaries passing beneath her.

‘There’s Prinny!’ cried Lydia, pointing. ‘And that must be the Prussian King.’

Felicity looked down at the upright, soldierly figure in his topboots and white pantaloons. He looked very serious, but she could not help thinking that was much more regal than the portly Prince Regent. Lydia grabbed her arm.

‘Look, there’s James!’ She waved her handkerchief wildly at a group of riders following the royal party and was rewarded when Sir James looked up and raised his hat to her. ‘Oh, he is so handsome. And he looks so well on horseback, does he not?’

Felicity murmured a reply. She was searching the colourful columns, eager to catch a glimpse of Nathan. What had Sir James said about their escort duties? Nathan was to accompany the Emperor of Russia.

‘I have not yet seen the Tsar,’ she murmured, her eyes raking the crowds.

‘Perhaps he is gone another way.’ Lydia laughed. ‘I would not be surprised if his sister has told him to come direct to her at the Pulteney Hotel. James says she has taken a dislike to the Prince Regent!’

Felicity was aware of a searing disappointment and berated herself fiercely. For five long years she had resolutely tried to forget Nathan Carraway—now he was out of her sight for just a few days and she was pining for him! She stared out at the colourful cavalcade passing beneath the window and made a decision. She would speak to him. At the very next opportunity she would reveal herself to Nathan. She would watch his reaction carefully; if he wanted nothing to do with her then she would ask Lydia to send her back to Souden and she would do her best to make a life for herself without Nathan Carraway. But perhaps, just perhaps…She hugged herself, trying not to fan the tiny spark of hope that refused to be extinguished. Whatever was decided, surely it would be better than this half-life she was living at present? Beside her, Lydia gave a little tut of exasperation.

‘It does not look as if the Tsar is going to appear. How tiresome! But we shall discover the truth tonight.’ Lydia sighed. ‘Such a lot of new faces, and James will expect me to know them all, for he will be inviting them to our ball! Well, Fee, my dependence is upon you to remember them, so that you can prompt me if I forget their names!’

‘So, James, what happened? Where was the Tsar?’ Lydia drew her husband into her private sitting room. ‘It is no good telling me you have been ordered to dine at Carlton House; you are not leaving until you tell us everything. Is that not so, Felicity?’

‘If you could spare us five minutes, Sir James, we would be grateful.’

Her calm tone belied her impatience to know why Nathan had not been in the procession. Sir James allowed himself to be pulled down on to a sofa beside his wife.

‘Oh, very well. So you and Miss Brown watched the proceedings, did you?’

Lydia shook his arm. ‘You know very well we did, sir, for you saw us there when you rode past. But what happened to the Tsar?’

‘Aye, well…’ Sir James shook his head. ‘We made good progress coming up from Dover. There were people lining the streets and hanging out of upstairs windows, all cheering, but the crowds were so thick as we came into London that the royals grew nervous.’ He tried and failed to hide his grin. ‘They ain’t used to the mob, you see. All the people wanted to do was to cheer their heroes, unbuckle the horses and draw the carriages through the streets themselves, but the sovereigns didn’t want it. Then someone took a pot-shot at the Tsar.’

‘No!’

‘Yes, my love. Only the shot went wide and hit Rosthorne instead.’

‘Was—was he badly hurt?’ Felicity asked, her hands straying to her cheeks.

Sir James laughed. ‘Not at all, but the bullet took his hat clean off! I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, for he was obliged to set off after the Emperor, who was determined to join his sister.’

‘At the Pulteney.’ Lydia nodded sagely. ‘You said he might do that.’

‘Did I, by heaven?’ exclaimed Sir James. He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘What a clever little puss you are to remember that! Well, I hope he’s comfortable there. The Lord Chamberlain, two bands and I don’t know how many others had been waiting since dawn to receive him, then Rosthorne sends a message to say Tsar Alexander came into town by way of the turnpike at Hyde Park Corner and would be staying at the Pulteney. Prinny is as mad as fire, of course, but forced to put on a brave face. That is why I must go now, my love. His Highness is not in the best of moods, so it will not do for me to be late!’