Rogue in the Regency Ballroom. Helen Dickson

her wrath as she stalked homeward with her fists clenched by her sides. Be damned if she’d discuss their marriage any further, not until she’d had time to face the rest of her emotions and consider the best way forward. The matter was complicated, but it must be resolved somehow.

      The trouble was that since her marriage, which had brought her independence, she had become herself again and valued her freedom, and she was regretful and resentful that she would now have to set it all aside. She realised she wasn’t being fair to Kit—but then life wasn’t always fair, and her father had been right when he had said that to succeed in life you had to be ruthless. He might have been referring to the world of business, but Amanda would apply it to her personal life.

      Still fuming silently to herself and a mass of conflicting emotions, she found her father in the hall still waiting for his lawyer to arrive. Amanda appeared before him looking for all the world like she’d like to commit murder and proceeded to speak without thinking, to act without considering the consequences.

      ‘I’m sorry, Father,’ she flared when he enquired why she was looking as cross as a bucket full of crabs, ‘but I think Mr Benedict is overbearing. He is also insufferably arrogant and I cannot see why you like him. You must dismiss him at once and find someone else.’

      Henry looked at her as though she’d taken leave of her senses. His daughter seemed to be in the grip of a fury and to have lost all reasonableness. Her anger was out of all proportion to what appeared to be a perfectly normal and innocent situation.

      ‘Don’t be absurd, Amanda. Kit hasn’t been on the place two minutes and already you find fault with the man. What the devil has happened between the two of you? Has he offended you—made untoward suggestions?’

      Amanda could feel the pull of her explosive fury dragging her into further turmoil, but somehow she must control it and be careful. ‘No, no, nothing like that,’ she hastened to assure him, softening her tone, not wishing to give away anything about her relationship with Kit and hoping she sounded convincing. ‘In fact, his manners are in order. But surely you don’t need him. You know enough about horses to train them yourself. You were doing splendidly before he arrived.’

      ‘Nay, lass,’ he said, his tone reproachful. ‘Kit is a man of good and able character. He also has a good mind and a deeper understanding of horses than I ever will. He’ll prove his worth to me in no time—even suggested we get one of them trained up in time for next year’s Gold Cup at Ascot,’ he said, rubbing his hands and puffing his chest out with glee at the mere thought. ‘Think about it, Amanda—me—with a runner in the Gold Cup. Aye, it’ll be a proud moment—so it will.’

      ‘I agree, Father, but—where is Mr Benedict to live?’

      ‘I’ve thought of that. I’ve put at his disposal a nice little furnished cottage in the park—close to the stables. He’ll be comfortable enough there.’

      Yes, Amanda thought crossly, he would be—right on her doorstep. ‘I still think you could manage to get your horses to the standard required without Mr Benedict’s help.’

      Henry looked at his daughter for a moment, his eyes piercing her through. ‘Impossible. Kit is an expert in buying, selling and management and has all the expertise to be a racehorse trainer in his own right. I want only top-class horses in my stable and to do that I need him. He also has a young daughter who is being taken care of by a cousin of his—his wife died some time ago, so he’s going to need time off occasionally to see her. Have you such a strong aversion to the man?’

      Simmering in her breast, tightening with pressure, was the urge to blurt out the truth into his innocent face, that he was being deceived, but she bit her tongue and damned the truth inside her. ‘Well—no—not really, only—’

      ‘Then he stays—and as my daughter you will be as gracious towards him as you are to any other guest I invite to the house. Which reminds me—he will be dining with us tonight, so ask Caroline to have an extra place set at the table. It seems senseless for him to dine alone when we have food going spare.’

      Having delivered that diatribe, he went to the door to greet his lawyer, who was just arriving.

      Amanda received the news that Kit was to dine with them with less enthusiasm than she would a public flogging. Seeking some outlet for her indignation, she headed towards Caroline and her father’s suite of rooms, and found Caroline in her sitting room of gold leaf and pink-and-white furnishings, décor that suited her stepmother’s lavishly feminine temperament exactly. Sifting through some correspondence, she looked up and smiled, but the smile faded when she saw Amanda looking down in the mouth and her dark eyes sparking with ire.

      Having become well used to and tolerant of father and daughter’s altercations, which always ended up in laughter, she said, ‘Oh, dear. What’s Henry done to upset you this time?’

      ‘He’s invited his new horse trainer to dinner tonight, Caroline, and has asked me to tell you to have another place set at the table. Doesn’t he realise that it’s highly irregular for an employee to join the gentleman of the house and his family for meals?’

      The vehemence in Amanda’s tone quite startled Caroline. ‘Why, Amanda, you sound quite heated. I had no idea you would mind so much. I suppose it is rather unconventional; nevertheless, Henry has a high opinion of Mr Benedict, so you must be prepared to endure him without complaint as best you can—for your father’s sake.’

      Seeing she wasn’t going to acquire an ally in Caroline, Amanda sighed. ‘I suppose I must, but I do hope he isn’t going to make a habit of inviting the servants to dine with us,’ she retorted ungraciously.

      When Amanda entered the drawing room at seven o’clock she was disappointed to find Kit alone and was immediately put out, although she could feel his presence in her home with every fibre of her being. It was difficult to believe that this extremely handsome, fashionably dressed man was the convict Christopher Claybourne.

      The rustle of her taffeta gown caught Kit’s attention. Glancing up he immediately put his drink down, for the apparition in the doorway in an amethyst gown, cut low to reveal her white shoulders, was like a jewel set against a background of unashamed opulence, wiping his mind clear of anything but sheer appreciation. His lips curving in a slow, appreciative smile, he came across to meet her while his eyes plumbed the depths of her beauty, touching her all over, giving her the sensation of being naked.

      ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Amanda. The servant who let me in informed me that your father and his wife have been detained by a domestic matter and will join us presently. May I say how lovely you look.’

      Amanda gritted her teeth and forced a smile to her lips. Never had a man looked so attractive and never had her heart called out so strongly to anyone. As she looked into his eyes, all at once she knew she must fight her attraction for him.

      ‘You can say what you like just so long as you stop ogling me like that.’

      ‘I’d be a fool to ignore the way you look,’ he answered smoothly, his grin mockingly congenial as he affectionately reached out and chucked her under the chin, which made Amanda step back, torn between giving him a kick in the shin or slapping his face.

      ‘You really are the most unmannerly of men,’ she hissed, thankful that her father and Caroline were not present. ‘Kindly keep your hands to yourself. Did you have to accept my father’s invitation to dine?’

      ‘My dear wife,’ Kit murmured. ‘It is not for inferiors like me to refuse the powers that be. That is not a right expected of underlings such as myself.’

      His voice was soft, casual, but his face was serious, and Amanda mistrusted the gleam of mocking humour lurking in his gaze. ‘I’m sure you could have found an excuse if you’d wanted to. I have no doubt that you accepted just to annoy me.’

      ‘Not at all. I was delighted to join such gracious and delightful company.’

      ‘Do you have to look so pleased with yourself?’ she snapped irately. ‘You must forgive me, Mr Benedict. I don’t often find