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much valued prize—proceeded to ignore Jane completely and so succeeded in increasing her misery.
    By the time Lady Sulby signalled for the ladies to retire and leave the men to their brandy Jane’s head was pounding. She longed for nothing more than to escape to her room, where she might at last take the pins from her hair before bathing her heated brow and hopefully alleviating the painful throbbing at her temples. After Olivia’s earlier comments it would merely be postponing the inevitable confrontation with Lady Sulby, of course, but Jane hoped that even a short delay might be advantageous.
    ‘I think you are being very wise, Jane.’ Lady Sulby,talking to Lady Tillton in the drawing room, paused and gave a terse inclination of her head when Jane asked to be excused because of a headache. ‘In fact, I think it would be beneficial to everyone if you were to keep to your room until we can be sure that you are not the carrier of anything infectious.’
    Jane’s face whitened at the deliberate insult—did it promise retribution?—before turning to lift the hem of her gown and almost run from the room.
    ‘That you are not the carrier of anything infectious.’
    Lady Sulby could not have told Jane any more clearly that she considered Jane’s very presence to be a dangerous source of infection to her guests—but no doubt especially where the Duke of Stourbridge was concerned!
     
    Hawk was sure he had never spent an evening of such boredom in his entire life, knowing after only two minutes in the company of Lady Sulby and the vacuously self-centred Olivia that the older lady was everything he disliked, in that she was a gossipy small-minded, social-climbing woman, with not a kind word to say for anyone or anything, and that in twenty years or so—if not sooner!—her daughter would be exactly like her.
    But the dinner fare, unlike the company he had been forced to endure, had been surprisingly excellent, with each course seeming to outdo the last, to such a degree that Hawk had wondered if, before taking his leave at the end of the week, he might not be able to persuade the Sulbys’ cook into joining one of his own households.
    And of course there had been that strangely memorable incident with Jane Smith earlier. Although, withhindsight, Hawk had decided that even there he had been unwise—that the eligible Duke of Stourbridge should not have engaged a young unmarried lady to whom he had not even been formally introduced at the time in conversation of any kind. The fact that she was, despite Lady Gwendoline’s obvious sharpness to her, Sir Barnaby’s ward, meant that no doubt she had ambitions of her own concerning advantageous marriage.
    His wariness had been confirmed when he had observed her from between narrowed lids for several minutes at the start of dinner. She had proceded to flirt outrageously with James Tillton-a man Hawk knew to keep two mistresses already, in different areas of London—constantly turning in his direction whilst completely ignoring the poor woman seated at her other side, as she’d gallantly attempted to engage her in conversation.
    ‘What do you think, Stourbridge?’
    He turned his attention to the other gentlemen seated around the table, partaking of the surprisingly excellent brandy. ‘I agree with you entirely, Ambridge.’ He answered the elderly gentleman—he believed was the matter of horseflesh—before moving languidly to his feet, carrying his glass of brandy with him. ‘If you will excuse me, gentlemen? I believe I will partake of some of this brisk Norfolk air our hostess was in such raptures about earlier.’ He strolled across the room to open one of the French doors before stepping outside onto the moonlit terrace, relieved to step out of the room and away from the banality of the conversation.
    How was he possibly to stand another six days of this? Hawk asked himself wearily. Perhaps he could arrange for Sebastian to have a ‘relapse’, and so excusehimself on