Courtship In The Regency Ballroom: His Cinderella Bride / Devilish Lord, Mysterious Miss. ANNIE BURROWS

like Lord Lensborough stumbling upon your family secret.’

      ‘No.’ Her eyes filled with tears. She could never have foreseen just how much impact the marquis would have on her life either.

      The atmosphere around the dining table that evening was so oppressive that even Stephen was unable to lift the gloom. Lord Lensborough was in a foul temper, which he took no trouble to conceal. Julia drew his wrath down on her head by making a series of unwise observations, while Phoebe was too nervous to speak at all. Hester was unaware that she was unwittingly fuelling his anger by keeping her head bowed meekly over her plate when he particularly wanted her to feel the full force of his displeasure that she was there at all. Even Lady Gregory, who was not usually sensitive to atmospheres, was relieved when the ladies could withdraw at last.

      ‘What,’ she asked, ‘has happened to put him in such a fearful temper tonight?’

      Julia and Phoebe exchanged glances, and shrugged their shoulders. They’d agreed it would be better all round not to mention their visit to a gypsy camp since it appeared inexplicably to have upset everyone so much.

      The only person who seemed his usual self was Sir Thomas. He ate a hearty meal, impervious to the shudders and sighs of his womenfolk, and when they’d left and the covers had been withdrawn, he raised his first glass of port to his lips with a smile.

      ‘Had an interesting day, have you, my lord? I hear you went out riding with my girls over to The Lady’s Acres.’

      Lord Lensborough’s eyes narrowed as Sir Thomas passed the port his way, but he did not rise to the bait.

      ‘Hester told me you were not very pleased when you found her visiting her friends.’

      ‘Naturally I disapproved,’ he snapped.

      ‘Really, my lord?’ He raised his eyebrows in exaggerated astonishment. ‘She was chaperoned by Miss Dean, as she always is when engaged on her charitable work. She has been regularly visiting those folk for the past six years without once coming to any harm. Is there some fact I may have overlooked, perhaps? As the local magistrate, it has become my habit not to form a judgement until I have all the facts clearly presented to me.’

      Lord Lensborough’s fingers clenched about the stem of his wine glass. This man’s barely veiled rebuke was the outside of enough. As he fixed his host with a cold stare that usually had the effect of wilting any opposition, Sir Thomas calmly reached for the nutcrackers.

      ‘Are you quite sure your subsequent treatment of my niece was justified?’ he challenged. ‘Had you enough facts at your fingertips to warrant giving her such a scolding that she came home to me in tears?’

      Stephen winced as the walnut that Sir Thomas held in his hand shattered, sending pieces of shell skittering across the table top.

      Of course he was justified. He was still honour bound to marry one of this man’s daughters, which meant that he would have to acknowledge their wanton cousin as a relation of his own. Sir Thomas expected a great deal if he hoped he would brush aside an indiscretion he had concealed from the world for six years.

      Six years. Lord Lensborough took a gulp of port. Six years ago, Hester would have been about fourteen years old. So young. She could have been scarce thirteen when that child was conceived. Which meant she would have been too young to understand what she was doing. Or—a cold lump seemed to form in his chest—what was being done to her. Could Sir Thomas’s leniency stem from the fact he was shielding her from the results of a crime committed against her?

      Oh, God. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a fraction of a second. Poor Hester. No wonder she was so skittish around men. Although—he regarded his host’s untroubled countenance through narrowed eyes—attempting to bring her out into society had still been a mistake. Even if she was not at fault, and they wanted her to be able to lead a relatively normal life, it was quite wrong to attempt to deceive a decent man into marrying her. He downed his glass of port, and poured another.