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passed for a nod of recognition.
        His mouth, which she did not want to remember pressed hotly against her throat, was a straight line of disapproval. It had been five years since she had rejected his offer of marriage. Could he really still hate her so much?
        The horse shifted slightly under his touch, and suddenly she was looking up at the scarred side of his face. An odd thrill ran through her and her hands clenched into fists. She remembered touching those scars for the first time and being astonished by their strange smoothness, how much less forbidding they seemed at close quarters. Today though, the sight of them did nothing to calm her nerves.
        ‘I must apologise for my behaviour last night,’ Nathaniel continued coldly, breaking her train of thought. ‘My sister was unwell and we were forced to leave rather suddenly. I understand you are only recently arrived from London. It was not too arduous a journey, I trust?’
        He did not meet her eyes as he spoke but gazed an inch or two above her bonnet, as though he found her presence in Warwickshire intolerable. Her cheeks grew even hotter at this unspoken insult; she barely recognised the intense young man she had left behind in this stiff, proud male who could not even look her in the face.
        ‘Not at all, sir.’
        No doubt he was eyeing her bedraggled state, the coarse muddied pink of her gown, and congratulating himself on a lucky escape all those years ago.
        Why, oh why, had she not worn the lace-trimmed, blue velvet gown that Suzanna had laid out for her this morning?
        In such elegant walking attire as she might have worn in London, she could have faced Lord Sallinger with confidence and dignity; in this shabby get-up, she must look more like an understairs maid than mistress of a considerable fortune. The knowledge that he was paying court to one of the village women only made her feel less armoured for this encounter.
        She thought of her own past behaviour with this man and wondered if Lord Sallinger now saw her in the same light as he obviously saw his tenants’ wives – an incorrigible flirt, easy sexual prey. Not a woman to force him into marriage for the sake of an illicit night’s passion.
        There was an uncomfortable pause. No doubt his lordship had run out of polite conversation, she thought, watching him from under the brim of her bonnet.
        Then he gave an odd kind of grimace.
        ‘I forgot – my sister charged me with a letter for you.’
        He reached inside his coat, producing a fold of white paper and bending to hand it to her. As their gloved fingers touched, she shivered, the echo of some lost emotion whispering in her ears.
        ‘Thank you,’ she managed huskily, then realised that he was waiting for her to read it. She broke the seal and scanned the short letter as rapidly as possible, biting her lip at its contents. ‘Your sister is too good –‘
        ‘Charlotte is not in the best of health at the moment. But she would be delighted if you could honour us with your presence at Sallinger House tomorrow evening, if you are free.’
        Us?
        Barely able to speak, breathless and light-headed at the prospect of dining with this man, Eleanor grasped the brambly wooden stile in her gloved hand for support. After all her careful plans to avoid him ...
        It took a horrifyingly long moment for the sensation of faintness to pass, but she thought her demeanour remained creditably calm and unruffled throughout. She must not forget everything she had learned over five years of London society just because she had been caught off her guard by this mistake from her past.
        ‘That’s very kind, my lord. But – ’
        ‘Good. Shall we say six-thirty, then?’ Lord Sallinger drew himself up in the saddle, his jaw set hard as though prepared for an argument and determined not to give way. ‘An unfashionable hour for you, I have no