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up with her in the most public of places, had declared his support of her for all the world to see. Jack, who’d been a recluse, hiding his wounds from the world— he’d come out and danced with her, when no one else would even look her in the eye.

And it was Jack whose arm she wanted to be on, whose arms she wanted to be in.

Kate glanced back. He was no longer there. Her eyes scanned the room anxiously. Where was he? She could see him nowhere. He had stood up for her in her hour of need. Surely he wouldn’t desert her in her moment of triumph? Didn’t he know it would mean nothing to her if he was not with her?

She caught Francis’s eye across a dozen heads and asked him the silent question. He returned a sombre look, then shrugged and shook his head hopelessly. Kate’s face dropped. Jack had left. But why?

With a leaden heart, Kate returned to the hollow greetings of well-wishers and sycophants.

“What do you mean, she’s gone? Gone where? She hasn’t been seen since that blasted ball, and let me tell you, Grandmama, nothing could be more ill-judged. She needs to be out there, circulating, seeing people, showing them she’s nothing to hide. We’ve scotched the worst of it, but if she’s hiding herself away…”

“I said she’s gone, Jack. Gone away. Left.”

“Left where? What do you mean?” Suddenly Jack turned white. He sat down in a rush. “You mean gone? She’s left London?”

Lady Cahill looked at him in some compassion, then hardened her heart. He’d been acting like a fool.

“Gone where?”

“Back to that village I found her in.”

“Good God, how could you let her do something so …? What is there for her anyway? Why would she do such a thing?” He rose to his feet again and paced about, raking his fingers through wildly disordered locks. Suddenly he looked up sharply.

“Who is escorting her? How is she travelling? And who is to meet her?”

His grandmother shrugged.

“You mean you let her go alone!” he roared.

“I was not exactly consulted, Jack, and do not take that tone with me. I’m as worried about the dratted girl as you are!” snapped his grandmother. “The foolish child slipped away at dawn.”

“So how is she traveling?”

“I don’t know, Jack, the Mail or stage, I presume!”

“Good God! Mail or stage! Rubbing shoulders with God knows who! Doesn’t she know the dangers? Footpads, highwaymen! Doesn’t she know how often accidents happen? Pray God she took the Mail; at least they have a guard!” Swearing, he rushed from the room.

Lady Cahill sat back, a satisfied grin on her face.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

The roar, which seemed to echo from the heavens, almost startled Kate into dropping her basket. It was, however, a very familiar roar. She looked around. There, on a horse flecked with foam, its sides heaving, legs trembling, sat Jack Carstairs, glaring at her yet again.

He looked dreadful. Covered with mud, his jaw unshaven, his neckcloth all awry. Her eyes softened. She glanced around. The narrow country laneway in which she’d been walking was by no means deserted; several farm workers were within earshot. She smiled up at him for the benefit of their observers.

“Good afternoon, Mr Carstairs,” she said in a clear calm voice. “As you see, I’m just off to the village.”

“Just off to the village, are you? And with no thought for how others might be worried about you?”

She looked up at him in silence. Why would he be worried? And why so angry?

“How the hell did you get here anyway?”

“I hired a chaise and outriders.”

“A chaise and outriders? A chaise and outriders!” He seemed outraged by the notion. He was breathing heavily, his eyes positively crackling with blue rage.

“Well, and what is so wrong with that?”

“Only that I stopped every bloody stage and Mail coach between here and London, searching for you!”

“Oh, no. You didn’t, did you?” Kate looked up at him, her eyes wide, imagining the scene. She giggled.

As far as Jack was concerned, it was the giggle that did it. With a groan of fury he leaned down, grabbed her under the armpits and dragged her up on to his horse. Ignoring her outraged squeaks, he clamped her to his chest and moved off. Kate struggled, but as the horse moved faster she clung to Jack to save herself from falling. The farm labourers came closer, several of them carrying sticks and cudgels.

In a trice Jack clamped his mouth over hers. Kate’s struggles suddenly ceased as the familiar magic of his kiss washed over her. She was, after all, where she most desired in the world to be. One hand slid around his neck, her fingers tangling in his wild, damp hair. The other hand gently stroked his rough, unshaven jaw. Abandoning all defences, she opened her heart and allowed herself to simply love him.

By the time the kiss had finished, they had left the grinning farm workers long behind. Kate sighed, nuzzling her face against the underside of his jaw. She leaned against him, relishing the taste of him on her lips, the strong embrace of his muscular arms around her.

“There was no need to run away, you know,” he said after a time. “We had everything under control. You will be completely accepted in society, no shadow of a doubt. There was no need to hide here.”

“Run away?” she said quietly. “Did Lady Cahill not tell you?”

“Oh, she told me all right. How else do you think I knew where to look?” He swung her round to face him, eyes blazing, hands gripping her hard. He shook her. “What is there here for you? A small dirty village? A falling-down cottage? The company of rustics? You cannot possibly prefer this to London!”

Her eyes clung to his. “Everything I want in the world is right here,” she said slowly. “Nothing I want or need is in London.” She leaned back into the curve of his body.

He turned

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