Rogue in the Regency Ballroom. Helen Dickson

she said, ‘You are very eloquent, Kit, but please don’t go on.’

      His voice took on a lighter note and his eyes twinkled with golden flecks of mischief. ‘I am a wilful, determined man, Amanda—you should know that by now. We will take our relationship a step at a time, but my feelings will neither yield nor change.’ Before she could voice another objection, he quickly switched tactics.

      ‘I enjoy my work with the horses. They have always been a part of my life—often a necessary part. Henry spends a good deal of time at the stables, watching them exercise and often riding out himself. I can only assume he has an understanding wife.’

      ‘She is—very understanding. In fact, she encourages him. Caroline doesn’t share his love of horses and doesn’t care to ride.’

      ‘Nevertheless, they seem happy—although most newly-weds usually are.’

      Glancing at him, Amanda noted his narrowed, reproachful gaze fixed on her face and detected the underlying meaning of his words. He was silently saying something to her, in the curl of his lips and the lounging insolence of his long body. After all, they were newlyweds themselves, but their relationship was far removed from that of her father’s and Caroline’s. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ she murmured, averting her gaze, determined not to be drawn into a discussion on their marriage.

      ‘One only has to look at them when they are together to see that.’

      ‘I suppose so.’ Amanda looked at him and he smiled then. It was such a wonderful smile that curled beautifully on those chiselled lips, the kind of smile that would melt any woman’s heart if she didn’t know him for the arrogant, superior being he was. Suddenly she was very much aware that they were alone and far from other civilised beings. She felt nervous, exactly like a goat must feel, tethered to a stake to lure hungry wolves. Unfortunately she couldn’t run away, so, while he continued to gaze at her with that wonderful half smile curling on his lips, she must stay where she was and keep all her wits about her.

      ‘Father has always immersed himself in his work,’ she said, glad that she was able to speak without her voice shaking. ‘I never thought he would marry again, after Mother, but they seem well matched. Caroline is good for him.’

      ‘What happened to your mother?’

      ‘She died when I was a child.’

      ‘I’m sorry. That must have been hard for you.’

      ‘Yes, it was—and for my father,’ she admitted, unsure whether she wanted his sympathy, but comforted by it nevertheless.

      ‘Your father has only recently purchased Eden Park, I believe.’

      ‘Yes, while I was in America.’

      ‘And do you like living here?’

      ‘It’s an improvement on the last house we lived in—although living in the country, after living in Rochdale in a large house with extensive grounds, takes some getting used to.’

      ‘Yes, I can imagine it would. It must be a change for your father, too.’

      ‘Caroline is determined to make him take it easy and enjoy himself, but I can assure you that he still has his finger firmly on the pulse.’ Amanda looked at him, suddenly curious about his own background. ‘What about you? Is your mother still alive, Kit?’

      He turned to look at her. ‘No. She died when I was a youth. It was a riding accident—nasty business.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, glad that the handsome, enigmatic man she had married was beginning to open up to her at last.

      ‘No need to be. You know what it’s like growing up without a mother.’

      ‘Nevertheless, it must have been hard for you and your father.’

      He nodded, his features becoming tense. ‘He took it badly—never really got over it. I was not enough to ease his pain.’

      His tone held a hint of bitterness that did not go unnoticed by Amanda, and she wondered at its cause. ‘Do you have any siblings?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘And your father? Is he still alive?’

      Kit’s eyes darkened with remembrance. ‘No.’

      His reply was brusque, warning Amanda to pry no further, but she pressed on. ‘Will you not tell me about him, Kit?’

      ‘If you don’t mind, Amanda, I do not wish to discuss it. Ever.’

      ‘But why?’ Recalling the bitterness she had evoked when she had touched on his family’s honour on the day he had arrived at Eden Park, she was curious to know more.

      ‘I am not going to give you a blow-by-blow description of what my life was like before I went to America. It was my hatred of gossip and my need for privacy that drove me there. I told you. I will not discuss it.’ Striding to the water’s edge, he stood looking down, as if trying to rid himself of unpleasant thoughts. After a moment he came back to her, the harshness of a moment earlier having gone from his expression.

      Amanda gazed at him. ‘It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it? Talking about your family, I mean—especially your father.’

      ‘Nothing makes me uncomfortable,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry, Amanda. Your questions were perfectly natural, only I would appreciate it if you would not mention my father again.’

      ‘I won’t,’ she replied quietly. ‘Not if you don’t want me to. It’s your own affair after all.’ She wondered what could have happened between Kit and his father that had made him go all the way to America in search of peace. Kit clearly prided himself on his control of his emotions. A man’s grief and pain should be a private matter, but if, as Kit insisted, they were to have any sort of life together, she would have to know some time.

      Resuming his lounging stance with his shoulder propped against the tree and looking down at her, he said, ‘Tell me about Mr Quinn. How do you get on with him?’

      Amanda looked at him, surprised by his question that seemed to come out of nowhere, and having a rather peculiar suspicion that this was what the conversation had been working up to. His features were closed, giving nothing away. ‘Mr Quinn? What makes you ask about him?’

      ‘Because he was with you in America.’

      ‘Yes, that’s right, he was. Why?’

      ‘What do you know of him?’

      ‘Not very much, really. He’s been with us for years, but I have no idea what he did before that.’ She looked at Kit sharply. ‘Why do you ask?’

      He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘No particular reason. I am merely curious. Do you like him?’

      ‘No, not really. He’s a man of cold pride and duty—a quiet man, hard to get along with, although Father seems to manage well enough—and he likes to keep himself to himself. Father sets him various tasks, mainly in Manchester; sometimes he sends him to London. You must have come into contact with him?’

      ‘No. He’s been away from Eden Park on your father’s business, I believe, and since he doesn’t appear to have any interest in horses and my work is away from the house, it’s hardly surprising that we haven’t met.’

      ‘Well, I am surprised. No doubt Father will introduce the two of you eventually.’

      ‘Yes, no doubt.’

      Feeling strangely uncomfortable about Kit’s interest in Mr Quinn and not wishing to discuss him—in fact, she’d prefer to forget all about him since that sordid incident between him and Sadie—Amanda stood and smoothed down her riding skirt. ‘I think I’d better be getting back. I’ve promised Caroline to help her write invitation cards for some of her forthcoming entertainments. She’ll think I’ve forgotten.’

      Kit relinquished his stance against the tree and followed her to her horse, reluctant to end their