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the pretext of brotherly concern? Such a course presented the problem of arranging to have a letter delivered to himself, of course, but surely that was preferable to the prospect of dying of boredom before the week was out?
    Although there really was something to be said for the bracing Norfolk air, he discovered, as he drew in a deep breath and felt his head immediately begin to clear. Perhaps he would consider an estate in Norfolk, after all. Just not this one.
    Having now met and spent time in the company of Olivia Sulby, his marital plans regarding that young lady and his brother Sebastian were definitely cancelled. For one thing he loved his youngest brother far too much to inflict that simpering chit on Sebastian and the rest of the St Claire family, let alone her social-climbing mother. It really—
    Hawk’s attention had been caught, and held, by a movement to the left of the moon-dappled garden—a slight deviation in the shadows beside the tall hedge that told him he was no longer alone in his enjoyment of the bracing air. He had been joined by a fox, perhaps. Or maybe a badger.
    But, no, the moving shadow was too tall to be either of those nocturnal animals. The intruder into his solitude was definitely of the two-legged variety, and it moved purposefully along the hedge towards the gate that Dolton, a dedicated city-dweller, had shudderingly informed his employer earlier led down to a beach and the open sea.
    It was a man, then. Or perhaps a woman. On her way to some romantic tryst, maybe? Or could it be something slightly more serious, such as smuggling? Hawk believed that it was still as rife here in Norfolk as it was reputed to be in Cornwall.
    While actively fulfilling his role as a justice of the peace in Gloucestershire, Hawk did not consider it any of his business—but his attention sharpened as the breeze gusted strongly, lifting the dark shielding cloak that encompassed the prowler and revealing something much lighter in colour worn beneath.
    Such as a gown of vivid yellow…?
    Could that possibly be Jane Smith moving stealthily away from the house in the direction of the beach? And, if so, for what purpose?
    Hawk told himself again that it was none of his business what Jane Smith did. She was the unmarried ward of Sir Barnaby, and Hawk would be well advised to keep well away from her for the remainder of his visit here, or risk finding himself manoeuvred into the parson’s mousetrap—a fate he had no intention of succumbing to until he had seen all of his siblings happily settled, and certainly not with the impoverished ward of a minor peer. When the time came Hawk fully intended marrying a woman of suitable breeding—one who would quietly and efficiently provide the heirs necessary for the Duke of Stourbridge but would make no other demands upon his time or his emotions.
    To deliberately seek out Jane Smith, a young woman who had already caused him to act completely out of character earlier this evening, would be decidedly unwise. He would be better served by rejoining the other gentlemen and forgetting even the existence of Jane Smith.
    But the impulse—madness?—which had afflicted him earlier, when his curiosity had first been piqued enough to engage Jane Smith in conversation, did not seem to have dissipated, and rather than rejoining the gentlemen inside the house Hawk instead found himself placing his brandy glass down on the balustrade and moving down the steps into the garden, with the sole intention of following to see exactly where Jane Smith was going alone so late at night.
    And why.

Chapter Three
    ‘A re your tears because your lover has failed to arrive for your tryst, or because as yet there is no lover?’
    Jane stiffened as she easily recognised the Duke of Stourbridge’s deep, slightly bored voice coming from above and behind her as she sat among the dunes. Her chin was resting on her drawn-up knees, the hood of her cloak having fallen back to reveal the wildness of her hair,