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mentioning it, but I’m sure just a few things will do for now.’
    ‘We’ll see,’ was all he would say before hurrying her out of the room.
    Carlisle was not very far from Gretna Green and they found it to be quite a large, bus tling place. After making enquiries, they were directed to a dressmaker in the High Street who, although very obviously not of French origin, called herself Madame Antoinette. Having met the lady, Amelia hoped quietly to herself that the lady’s talent for dressmaking was rather better than her acting skills as her French accent was atrocious. Fortunately this soon proved to be the case.
    Madame ushered Amelia into a changing room and ordere d her to take off her clothes. Amelia obeyed and waited for the exclamation she knew was coming.
    ‘ Oh, la, la ! What on earth? Why are you wearing zat?’ Madame Antoinette pointed to the roll of padding around Amelia’s waist. ‘Are you mad, my lady? I mean, I beg your pardon, but who in zeir right mind wants to be fatter zan zey have to?’
    Amelia smiled. ‘I was trying to make myself unattractive in order to keep a suitor at bay,’ she explained, ‘but I suppose I no longer need it now.’
    ‘Well, no more! Off, off with it I say.’ Madame wasn’t having any of this. ‘You have a lovely figure, we must show it off to ze Monsieur. Oui, oui .’
    It was therefore a rather more svelte Amelia who emerged from the changing room, dressed in a gown Madame had made for someone else who now no longer wanted it. It was a low-cut evening dress of ice blue satin with an overdress of silver gauze, and Amelia felt distinctly uncomfortable with so much of her bosom on display. But it was a beautiful dress and she had to admit that it fitted her perfectly. James, who had been idly flicking through a book of prints while sipping a glass of wine, looked up and almost choked on his latest mouthful.
    ‘What the devil …? What have you done to yourself?’ He stood up abruptly and came over to inspect her more closely. ‘I won’t have you squeezing yourself into tight corsets in the name of fashion, like the Prince Regent does. That’s ridiculous. You will surely faint.’
    ‘ I’m not wearing a corset, James, I … well, it’s a long story. You see, I was wearing padding to make myself appear slightly larger than I really am.’
    ‘ Whatever for?’ He was scowling at her and she took a step back.
    ‘ To put Bernard off, although it didn’t work very well. So what do you think? Will this gown do?’
    James still looked flummoxed and didn’t immediately reply. In fact, he looked very annoyed indeed, and Amelia couldn’t understand why her subterfuge should rile him so. She put a hand on his arm and said, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve startled you. I suppose I should have removed the padding before, but I had no choice but to keep wearing it as none of my clothes would have fit otherwise. I’ve had no chance to alter any of my old gowns yet, but I would have done eventually, I promise.’
    He didn’t look as though he believed her and she acknowledged that she should have mentioned it before, but there had never seemed a good time. He snatched his arm away as if she had branded him, and Amelia couldn’t help but feel hurt that her touch affected him thus. If he couldn’t bear for her to even put a hand on his arm, how would they ever live together? She turned around, with drooping shoulders, and muttered something about trying on another gown.
                 
    James stared after Amelia as she disappeared behind the curtain yet again. He could not but see her pretence as yet another instance of her having duped him. He supposed he should have noticed when he held her in his arms the night before, but he had been so intent on kissing her, it never occurred to him that her waist felt strange.
    He ought to be grateful that she was so much prettier than he had thought. Her bosom had not been faked, and combined with the narrow waist so newly