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too.’
    Penelope felt for her cousin. ‘You miss her still?’
    ‘Every day,’ Georgina nodded, ‘I miss her counsel and advice. She would know exactly what to do about Mr Lockwood.’
    ‘I’m not sure anything needs to be done.’
    ‘Oh Penelope, you are so naive!’ Georgina admonished. ‘Of course there is everything to be done. Mama would find out in an instant who he was, where he came from, who his parents were, and how much income he has.’
    ‘Well…’
    ‘Mama would work him out well enough,’ Georgina continued confidently, ‘and advise whether he is good company to keep—or a good beau to pursue.’
    ‘I think it’s best to make a judgement when it’s not influenced by things such as money and family,’ Penelope said thoughtfully. ‘We should decide his character based on manners and countenance.’
    Georgina sniffed. ‘Well, based on your theory we should all adore Mr Lockwood.’
    ‘Your father is a good, sensible man,’ Penelope continued, ignoring Georgina’s sarcasm, ‘and a good judge of character. He doesn’t seem to have any objections to Mr Lockwood, and neither does Harry.’
    ‘Harry would invite a tramp into the house if he thought it would upset me and give him a laugh,’ Georgina replied. ‘I’m not sure Harry is a good judge of character at all. But you are right about Father. He seems just as taken as the rest of us.’
    ‘Well, there you are,’ Penelope said, pleased and somewhat surprised by her eagerness to defend a man she barely knew. ‘And don’t forget you were singing his praises only a few days ago.’
    ‘I suppose I was. Still, I look forward to hearing from my aunt,’ Georgina added, ‘and I’m sure you are, too, my dear cousin. Despite your protests of good manners and countenance being enough!’
    They had made their way back to the house when Penelope felt the slightest breeze rustle her skirts. She paused and turned, her arms traced with goosebumps.
    ‘What is it?’ Georgina asked.
    Penelope’s eyes scanned the wide expanse of lawn: the gardens, the hedgerows, the rose garden and the late, splendorous orange bloom. Nothing. There was nothing to make her uneasy, nothing to suggest anyone was there.
    Turning, she smiled at Georgina, pushing to the back of her mind the sudden chill, the inexplicable anxiety in her stomach, and the feeling they were being watched. ‘Nothing. It’s nothing at all.’

Chapter Six
    Present day
    I woke on Monday with my stomach churning just as Penelope’s had in my dream the night before. Marcus Knight and Heath Lockwood were definitely one and the same, there was no doubt.
    And Penelope was falling in love with him. There was no doubt about that, either.
    Beth arrived to pick me up for school in her mother’s silver Volvo. I eyed it warily as I finished packing my bag. Beth’s mother would not be letting Beth drive her car if they hadn’t come to some sort of arrangement—I could only speculate as to what it might be. Pink t-shirts and hipster jeans? Blonde curls and eyelash extensions? A spray tan?
    ‘You ready?’ Beth asked, her short black bob moving against her chin as she spoke. Sharp bangs cut across her forehead, and her eyes were lined with thick black eyeliner. She had the whole Uma-Thurman-in- Pulp-Fiction look going on today. I wondered when she’d got the bangs.
    ‘Sure, just let me lock up.’ I shoved Jane Eyre in my bag at the top and closed it.
    Making our way down the path towards the Volvo, the roar of a motorcycle engine suddenly filled the air. Looking up, I saw only a silver and black blur as it roared away from the new neighbour’s house.
    I shivered.
    ‘Who was that?’ Beth asked.
    I shrugged. ‘How should I know? Do I look like the neighbourhood gossip?’ I wondered idly if it belonged to Marcus, but the thought of Heath Lockwood on a motorcycle made me giggle and I quickly dismissed the idea.
    Beth opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by a call from next