And Captain Fawley’s heart was Susannah’s for the taking.

Susannah’s.

She must not forget that. Not for an instant.

Snapping her fan open, Deborah rose to her feet, and made her way rather unsteadily to the bench on which her mother was sitting.

Chapter Three

It was a glorious afternoon. Though there was hardly a cloud in the sky, a deliciously cool breeze skittered playfully through the chestnut trees, making the air beneath their boughs sweet enough to drink. Sadly, Deborah’s pleasure in being out of doors was dimmed somewhat by the company she was in.

Although Susannah no longer viewed Baron Dunning with much enthusiasm, she had not turned down his invitation to promenade through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. Particularly since he had been thoughtful enough to bring along his friend, Mr Jay, to escort Deborah. The girls had both hoped that having male escorts would make the walk rather more like the brisk outings they were used to taking in Lower Wakering. But the men were no more willing to stride out than the hired London servants were. They strolled along at a snail’s pace, pausing frequently to acknowledge acquaintances or point out persons of interest who were bowling along the carriage drive in smart barouches or landaulets.

Deborah’s heart sank as yet another friend of Mr Jay’s called out a greeting, then, upon catching sight of Susannah, pulled his rather showy chestnut mare alongside them.

‘What brings you to the park at this hour, Lampton?’ Mr Jay asked him as he swung down from the saddle. ‘Wouldn’t have thought it was quite your thing.’

‘Oh, you know,’ Mr Lampton said vaguely, his attention riveted upon Susannah. ‘Won’t you introduce me to your charming companions?’

Deborah’s first impression was that he must be one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. He was tall and well built. A lock of fair hair strayed from under his curly-brimmed beaver hat, but she would have guessed at the colouring anyway, from the fairness of lashes and brows that framed forget-me-not blue eyes.

‘Oh, this is Miss Gillies,’ Mr Jay said briefly. ‘Miss Gillies, the Honourable Percy Lampton.’

‘Charmed to make your acquaintance,’ said Mr Lampton, turning on a smile so patently false, it immediately put Deborah’s back up. Men as handsome as this were not charmed to make her acquaintance. They usually ran their eyes over her swiftly, assessing her scrawny figure, the cheapness of her dress, and then the expression in their eyes became dismissive, or sometimes even downright scornful.

‘Mr Lampton,’ she repeated, making the proper curtsy, though she found it hard to muster up a reciprocal smile.

‘And who, pray, is the dasher upon young Baron Dunning’s arm?’ he enquired, turning to make an exaggerated bow to Susannah.

While the introductions were made, the horse became quite skittish.

‘You were correct about this brute,’ Mr Lampton said to Mr Jay, tugging ineffectually on the horse’s reins while its hindquarters surged across the path. ‘Too high spirited by half.’

‘Yes. I say, don’t you think you ought to…?’ Looking somewhat alarmed, Mr Jay let go of Deborah’s arm and darted under the horse’s tossing head. Shooting a look over his shoulder, he said to Baron Dunning, ‘Perhaps you should move the ladies a little further away.’

While he set about calming the horse, with a competence Deborah had to admire, Baron Dunning linked arms with her and moved her out of range of those potentially dangerous hooves.

And somehow, once the incident was over, Mr Jay had the horse, Baron Dunning had Deborah on his arm, leaving Mr Lampton in sole possession of Susannah.

That was how it remained, all the way home. And Baron Dunning, far from exerting himself to be pleasant to Deborah, could not disguise his annoyance at being so neatly cut out by the newcomer. Deborah felt amused, rather than offended, only wondering how on earth Susannah would decide between all her suitors in the end. Although, if she could not make up her mind, there was nothing to stop her from returning to London again the next year. She was wealthy enough to be choosy. Her parents would not mind in the least if she went home without a husband in tow. So long as she enjoyed herself, and did not throw herself away on a nobody.

She sighed, remembering their conversation the morning after the Marquis of Lensborough’s ball.

‘I am not to throw myself away on a nobody,’ she had said defiantly, when Deborah had challenged her for asking her mother to make further enquiries about Captain Fawley. ‘Even if he is not what I thought him at first, I must not encourage him if he does not have any prospects.’

Sadly for Captain Fawley, it had not taken her mother long to discover that his prospects were non-existent.

‘The eighth Earl of Walton married twice,’ she had explained. ‘The first marriage was arranged by his family, while he was scarce out of his teens, to ensure the succession, for he was the only son. They matched him with one of the Lampton girls, who, eventually, presented him with a healthy boy. He chose his own wife the second time he married, for reasons of sentiment, rather than duty. There was some sort of scandal about the time he died, which I have not been able to get to the bottom of, but the upshot was that the boys were parted and reared separately. The current Earl,’ she said, leaning forward in her chair to dispense her nugget of gossip in a thrilled tone, ‘scoured the battlefields of Spain to find Captain Fawley when he got news of how severely injured he was. He brought him home, and spent a fortune having him nursed back to health, thus effecting their reconciliation.’

‘So,’ said Susannah, getting to the nub of the matter, ‘does that mean he is eligible, or not? If he is truly the younger son of an Earl, he must have a title, as well as his rank of captain from the army, must he not? And…’ She bit at her lower lip as she hesitated over broaching the indelicate topic of money.

But Mrs Gillies knew what interested her charge, without having to have it spelt out for her.

‘No, he was never officially recognised as the eighth Earl’s son. Nor did the old man leave him anything in his will. It all went to the current Earl. All Captain Fawley has is his army pension.’

‘That’s shocking!’ cried Deborah, her fists clenching in indignation. ‘Why was he cut out of the inheritance? It is not as if the present Earl cannot afford to spare a little. He must be one of the wealthiest men in England!’

Susannah laughed. ‘Don’t be such a goose, Debs. Isn’t it obvious? Haven’t you wondered why the two so-called brothers bear not the slightest resemblance to one another? No wonder the Lamptons threw the second wife out.’ Picking up her cup of tea, and taking a dainty sip, she added, ‘Well, that rules him out, for certain. Papa would never countenance me marrying a man who was born on the wrong side of the blanket.’

‘Now, Susannah, dear, I hope you won’t go around suggesting that I even hinted that Captain Fawley might not be legitimate. The Earl of Walton gets most upset with anyone who repeats that old scandal. He guards his brother’s reputation zealously. And if you offend a man of his standing…’

Susannah had shrugged, calmly putting Captain Fawley out of her mind now that she had no further use for him.

It was a relief to get home from their walk in Hyde Park and slough off the disappointed suitors who would, if etiquette had not forbidden such tactics, have cheerfully shoved Mr Lampton off the pavement in order to pry Susannah from his side. Deborah was not surprised when, upon entering her mother’s room, her friend’s first words were of her latest conquest.

‘What do you know about the Honourable Percy Lampton?’ she said, perching on a chair beside the bed, where Mrs Gillies had been taking her afternoon nap. ‘Is he one of the Lamptons who are related to the Earl of Walton? He looks as if he might be!’