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she barely knew how to answer. One part of her mind was telling her to walk out now and make her own way to London. If Harold had not left, he might have takenher a bit further before returning the rig to its owner. Yet if she did that she would not have the chance to tell Lord Clarendon exactly what she thought of him and his lies.
    The warmth of the fire was enticing and Roxanne’s feeling of annoyance faded as she moved closer, holding her hands to the flames. There was nothing to stop her moving on alone, because Lord Clarendon was amongst friends and would be properly cared for. Her instincts told her that she might be laying up trouble for herself if she stayed here and yet she was seduced by the thought of a warm bed, the fire and some hot food.
    What harm could it do to travel on with him, even if he had not been entirely honest with her?
    It was good to be in a house again instead of the cramped conditions in the caravan… Now where had that thought come from?
    Try as she might, Roxanne had never been able to remember anything about her previous life. Sofia was convinced she had run away from her home, that she was the child of gentry, but had been in some terrible danger.
    â€˜Something happened to you, my love,’ Sofia had told her. ‘You were frightened and ill. In your fever you spoke of many things, of places you’d seen and people you knew. For weeks you woke crying and screaming, frightened of a dream, but you could never recall it. It is the reason I did not try hard to find your family. If you ran away in such distress there must have been areason—and I would not give you back to people who might ill treat you.’
    Had Roxanne’s family mistreated her? Sofia had burned her clothes, because she said they were not fit for use and could tell them nothing about her past, except that they were of good cloth.
    Roxanne shook her head. If her family had wanted her, she would not have been wandering the roads alone and in such a state. It hardly mattered where she had come from. Sofia had been like a mother to her, giving her all the love she instinctively knew had been missing from her previous life. A wave of grief swept over her, bringing tears to her eyes. She dashed them away with her hand, determined not to give into foolishness. Sofia was gone and she must manage alone.
    Faced with walking the rest of the way to London alone or travelling in a chaise with a gentleman, who was truly in no condition to ravage her, she thought she must be sensible and choose the latter. If Lord Clarendon tried to seduce her as he recovered his strength, she could leave him and go on alone.
    Removing the black-velvet cloak that had been Sofia’s, a relic of the days when she had moved amongst gentlemen of fortune and their mistresses, Roxanne sat on the edge of the bed. Her dress had also belonged to Sofia when she was a young woman; though old-fashioned, it was of good cloth with a low, dipped neckline, in which Roxanne had sewn a frill of soft cream lace for modesty’s sake. Amongst her things was a silver hand mirror that she had inherited from her friend, an ivory comb and a bristle brush. She tookthem out and then tidied her dark red curls, glancing at herself once before replacing them securely in her bundle.
    When she heard the knock at the door, she gave permission to enter, but was surprised when Lord Clarendon walked in.
    â€˜I thought it was the innkeeper’s wife, my lord,’ she said and raised her head defiantly. ‘Why did you not tell me you were the grandson of an earl? I should not have called you Mr Clarendon had I known your title, sir.’
    â€˜It hardly matters. Hartingdon is about to disown me anyway.’
    â€˜Why?’ Roxanne asked. ‘Is he not your grandfather?’
    â€˜He brought me up after my parents died, but I was a nuisance. He did not truly wish for the trouble of a young boy and I was left to the care of servants. When he was