The next morning Isabella felt very much better, and determined to leave Jason's house that day. When Mistress Grendon appeared with her breakfast, Isabella announced she intended to get up and dress. The housekeeper looked at her and nodded.
'I took your habit and brushed off the mud. I will bring it to you later, but now eat your breakfast.'
But when Isabella had finished it was Jason who came in to see her.
'Are you really fit to get up?' he asked, laying a cool hand on her brow.
She trembled slightly. 'Of course.'
'Well, you can dress and come downstairs, but we will wait awhile before deciding whether you are fit enough for the drive to London.'
'I would prefer to ride, if you can lend me a horse,' Isabella suggested.
'We will see.'
He went out, and Isabella's clothes, newly washed and ironed, were brought to her. Mistress Grendon, insisting she was not yet fit to ride, helped her to dress in the one gown she had in the saddle bags, and then gently brushed her hair, avoiding the slight lump that still remained. Isabella was more shaken than she had expected, and was thankful for the friendly arm to lean on as she was conducted downstairs, and shown into a parlour full of bright sunlight, where Jason sat at a table studying some papers.
'I do not wish to disturb you,' she said, glancing across at the papers as he rose and came across to meet her.
'I always work in here, 'tis such a pleasant room,' he answered. 'I have almost finished. Will you excuse me for a few minutes more, and then I shall be ready to discuss what is to be done.'
He made sure she was settled comfortably in an upholstered chair near the log fire that burned brightly in the wide ingle-nook fireplace, then returned to the table and drew a sheet of paper towards him. For a while he wrote steadily, and Isabella looked with great interest around the room. That it was an old house she had seen as she came down the stairs, where the huge oak beams supporting the roof of the vast central hall had been visible.
This room was panelled, and there were several shelves of books, a few paintings mostly of the Flemish style, and some beautifully carved figures of animals. A whip and gloves were lying on an oak chest near the long window, which stood open and disclosed a view of rolling wooded hills beyond a neatly laid out flower garden.
Even while she admired all this, Isabella's eyes kept straying back to Jason, and she studied his face, cleanly modelled, an excellent profile, but with a most determined chin she had not seemed to notice much previously.
He looked up as if aware of her scrutiny, and his eyes twinkled. Her heart lurched. Why did he have to be so handsome, with a devastatingly attractive smile such as the one he was displaying now? And he was to marry Frances, who did not really wish for it.
He laid down his quill, sanded and sealed his paper, and then rose with it.
'I shall not be long. Pray excuse me.'
A few minutes elapsed, during which Isabella was able to regain her composure, before Jason returned and sat opposite her.
'Do you like this room?' he asked.
'It is delightful,' she responded warmly. 'And so is what I have seen of the rest of the house.'
'I will show you more later today, if you are fit enough,' he promised, but she shook her head.
'I must return to London.'
'Nonsense. You are not steady enough to walk across the room, much less ride to London.'
'But they will be worrying by now,' she protested weakly, knowing he was right.
'From what you told me, they will have thought you at Clare's godmother's. But I have just sent a message explaining it all. Jack can take care of himself and will no doubt reappear some day!'
'If he does not do something desperate! Oh, I have failed in everything!' she exclaimed in remorse. 'I have been instrumental in causing this elopement, because I have constantly urged Clare that it was her duty to marry well. Poor Clare, and now she has ruined herself!'
'Nonsense!' Jason replied bracingly. 'There is no harm done. When will you accept that? Edward Willis is a good man, as I know from my brief acquaintance with him. He will care for your sister and make her an excellent husband, even though he is not so rich as you would have liked.'
'I shall have to accept it, shall I not? 'Tis done, most like, by now. But I have probably led Jack into danger too, forcing him to come with me.'
'Do you greatly care for him?'
'I feel responsible for him, he is such a young idiot!' Isabella said forcefully.
'And you will wish such a foolish youth on your cousin Frances? Was not that what you both had in mind?'
Isabella blushed and looked down, twisting her hands together.
'He is not a bad boy, but he is young, he will improve. In any event,' she swallowed and blinked hard, 'he cannot now marry Frances.'
'True, but I would prefer to see him improve before he contemplates marriage with anyone. I understand his upbringing was somewhat haphazard. He is much younger than his years.'
'You realise that, and yet you allowed the duel to take place?'
'I never intended to do more than frighten the young cub, but I could scarce tell you that!'
'I never thanked you for not shooting him. But you took such a risk yourself. He might not have missed you!'
'I do not think there was much fear of his hitting me. But if he had, I had the impression you would not have been sorry.'
'Oh, no.'
The exclamation was startled out of Isabella, and she looked down in confusion.
'Would you have been sorry?' Jason asked quietly. He repeated his question when she did not reply, and at last, in a subdued voice, she admitted she would have been sorry to have seen her cousin kill anyone. Jason smiled at her averted head.
'I could wish you had specified me,' he said softly. 'With all your concern for Clare and Jack, have you none to spare for me?'
Isabella had recovered herself. 'You do not need anyone to care – you are fully capable of getting all you want for yourself,' she responded tartly. 'Jack is not, he is but a boy.'
'Yes, and being a sulky young cub, has most like returned to London.'
'I trust no harm has come to him,' Isabella said distractedly. 'I must make an effort to go back today.'
'Your parents will not be worrying, for I have said I will escort you home as soon as you are fit enough to travel.'
'But Jack may do something idiotic if I am not there to prevent it!' Isabella fretted.
'He will, if my judgment of him is accurate, return to London and endeavour to forget the whole in a bout of drinking. He will not be feeling proud of his actions towards Clare or yourself.'
'That is not all. I must see him soon!'
'What else is there?'
*
She stared at him, unwilling to expose more of Jack's folly to Jason, who, though only a few years older, was infinitely more capable of handling his affairs, and would be likely to despise Jack's weaknesses. But Jason's eyes as they stared into hers were strangely compelling, and she found herself telling him the whole sorry tale of Jack's debts, and his final folly in betting on the races with yet more borrowed money.
'That is why he was so bitter over his losses at Newmarket,' she concluded. 'He had backed you heavily and was too concerned about his plight to be rational.'
'Foolish, but understandable,' Jason commented. 'Was he hoping to borrow from you?'
She shook her head. 'No. He knows I have no money, and though Father has helped him once or twice in the past, he cannot afford to again. Besides, even though it is only for a few hundred pounds, he knows it would not end there. Jack has never relied on himself. But what can I do to help him? He is hoping to marry an heiress, but who is there?' she ended despairingly.
'You mean now Frances is no longer available?' he queried, and she glanced quickly at him, noting the sardonic gleam in his eyes. 'He is not ready for marriage to anyone. What he needs is a spell in the army. I wonder your father has not arranged it.'
'He would have done,' Isabella sprang quickly to her father's defence, 'but Jack would have none of it. He wants a post at Court, and thinks to advance himself that way.'
'He has not the wit for that, at least not at the moment. I will pay his debts on condition that he goes into the army,' Jason stated suddenly.
Isabella gasped in amazement. 'You! But – but why? What claim has he on you?'
Jason laughed. 'I feel responsible, having destroyed his schemes! But apart from that, as we are going to be cousins by marriage, that gives me the right to help him.' He looked at her quizzically, but she did not notice, being preoccupied with thinking the cousinship was a rather remote one, and wondering if Jason realised Jack was not Frances' cousin. But he was continuing.
'I believe his estates are in a poor condition also?'
'Yes,' she admitted reluctantly. 'They could be made to yield more, but Jack has not the knowledge, or, I fear, the patience to tend them, and his agent is not reliable.'
'Then I will make it a further condition he employs Moffat for a few years, until the old man is ready to retire. He has been my steward here, and has worked wonders since my father died,' Jason explained. 'But now I propose to deal with my affairs myself, he will not be fully occupied. He has been in sole charge for so long I fear he would be restless, but a challenge like this would delight him, I'll warrant.'
'You are kind! I know not what to say, except that you should not!'
'I will approach Sir Jack.'
He brushed aside her objections, and smoothly turned the conversation onto harmless topics. Then he offered to show her some of the garden.
'If you feel strong enough, that is?'
She was determined to try, and they walked slowly along the gravelled walks, enjoying the spring sunshine. Isabella admired the early flowers that rioted in the well kept beds, but soon she began to drag her steps, and thankfully leaned on Jason's arm as he turned back towards the house. Dinner was ready, and he led her straight into the dining parlour where she sank into a chair with some relief.
'Drink this,' he commanded, pouring her a glass of wine. She complied, and laughed slightly.
'I feel so stupid! To be so feeble after a mere knock on the head!'
He grinned down at her. 'Fit to ride to London today, Isabella?'
'I fear not. But I must be a great trouble to you when you are busy!'
'Not at all. But I insist you rest this afternoon, and you can have an easy conscience, for I shall be with Moffat, tidying up my affairs, which was the purpose of my visit!'
He chatted easily throughout the meal and Isabella revived, finding him a most entertaining companion. At the end of the meal Mistress Grendon was summoned to escort Isabella upstairs, but to the satisfaction of both Isabella had recovered enough to walk up the stairs unaided. She was glad, however, to remove her dress and lie down, and was almost immediately asleep.
When she awoke the sun was very low in the sky behind the hills, and after dressing, and discovering from the maid who attended her that Jason was still with his steward, she determined to try her strength again by walking in the gardens. She was much stronger, and went further than that morning, out of the formal gardens and into a wilder part, admiring the clumps of primroses scattered across the grass. She had reached a gate that led to a meadow, and was leaning on it admiring the sunset when Jason found her. He came quietly up beside her, and she turned to smile at him.
'Are you finished?' she queried.
'For today. How are you feeling now?'
'Much, much better. I must go home tomorrow.'
'Why so eager to leave me?'
'It – it is not right I should stay here alone with you!' she exclaimed.
He raised his eyebrows. 'I thought you did not care for propriety?'
'It is not conventional I stay here,' she answered.
'Are you afraid of me?'
'Not at all!' she retorted indignantly, but stepped back quickly as he turned towards her.
He laughed softly. 'Our situation may not be conventional, but it is delightful, is it not, my sweet Isabella?'
*
Before she could retreat any further he had his arms about her, and was kissing her, gently at first, but with growing passion. She stood immobile for a moment, too startled to move, and then, at the horrifying realisation she was enjoying his kisses, struggled to free herself from his embrace. Immediately he released her, though prudently gaining control of her hands.
'How dare you!' she exclaimed, more furious with her own response than with him. 'You take advantage of my position here, my weakness, to insult me!'
'Such a kiss is no insult,' he chuckled, unabashed. 'Besides, if I had waited until you were fully recovered again, I might not have succeeded!'
'You – you are intolerable! I pity Frances for the bargain she has made!' she retorted, striving in vain to free her hands.
Jason laughed. 'She will be happy – as happy as Clare, though both have chosen poor men. But Frances is able to use her own wealth to ensure her comfort, and he is sensible enough to accept it.'
'Naturally!' she snapped. 'It is quite in character. But how could you offer to pay Jack's debts if you were poor? Were you simply trying to make me grateful to you? Or did you intend to use Frances' money? How despicable!'
'If I were, it would be,' he replied, amused. 'But who told you Frances was marrying me?'
She looked up at him, her anger arrested. 'At my aunt's, the maid, she said Frances was betrothed, and you had gone suddenly to your estates!'
'But that, surely you must have guessed, was in pique that the heiress had slipped from my grasp,' he replied with a laugh. 'I came to plot dire revenge!'
'Then – who?'
'Robert Edes, of course. Had you not noticed how assiduously he has been courting Frances? And how eagerly she was welcoming his attentions?'
'Robert Edes!' Isabella was so astonished she did not realise Jason had slipped his arm about her.
'He went to see Lady Lyndon on the morning Clare left,' he explained. 'She sent for my uncle, and as I was with him, I heard the news almost immediately. I went to see Frances before coming home.'
'But – you said you were coming to prepare for your wedding,' she said accusingly.
'No, you said that, but it was true. It was simply that no wedding has yet been arranged. I needed to set my affairs in order, my love, before I could ask you to be my wife. But now, after these two days together, I cannot wait any longer. Isabella, my dearest, will you marry me?'
She stared at him, conflicting emotions expressed on her face. The shock of realising he was not after all betrothed to Frances, and the desire to forget all else in submitting to his kisses, warred with an ingrained caution and disbelief that so attractive a man could want to marry her. It was incredible, and being what she was, Isabella could not believe it. Then the explanation hit her like a douche of cold water and her expression went blank. Having been alone with her for two days, he could in honour do nothing else. But he was not allowing it to show, whispering endearments to her, and pretending passion as again his lips sought hers.
She twisted her face away.
'No! I cannot! Please, Jason!'
He raised his head, then grasped her shoulders and forced her to look at him.
'What ails you, my love?' he asked, in so gentle a tone that Isabella was hard put to it to hold back her tears.
'You do not have to,' she managed to whisper, and turned away from him. 'No one need know where I have been, and I am sure your servants are discreet!'
He stared down at her averted head, and smiled in understanding.
'Forgive me, I had not thought to distress you. I will say no more now. It is almost time for supper. Would you prefer to take it in your room?'
Thankfully she nodded and he turned, offering her his arm, and in silence they walked back to the house. In the hall Isabella turned impulsively towards him.
'I am grateful for all you have done, please believe me,' she said composedly. 'I would not be an embarrassment to you.'
*
She turned away, biting her lip, and with tears blinding her stumbled up the stairs. Mistress Grendon was soon with her, helping her into bed, and gently chiding her for exerting herself too much. Isabella pecked at her supper, eating only to prevent the good woman's further reproaches, and was thankful when she was finally alone.
But she could not sleep. The memory of Jason's kisses, and the bitterness of knowing they were a mere politeness, forced from him because of their situation, kept her tossing restlessly for hours after she had blown out her candle.
Lying there in the darkness, the sounds of the house seemed unusually magnified. Isabella heard the door of Jason's room, next to her own, open and close. After a few minutes it opened again, and footsteps sounded along the passage, halting outside her own door. Isabella lay still, her heart beating wildly, wondering what he intended, but the footsteps retreated and with a sigh of relief she realised his door had been closed.
Relaxing, Isabella turned over again, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow, but before she had settled more noises brought her upright in her bed, listening intently.
This time the noises came from downstairs. A horse, ridden hard, approached the house, and confused shouts came as the rider dismounted and began hammering on the front door.
'Open! In God's name, open!'
Isabella swung her feet out of bed and reached hastily for the wrap Mistress Grendon had found for her. It was Jack's voice. How had he discovered her, and what did he mean by making such a commotion?
Barefoot, clutching the wrap to her, she found her way in the darkness to the door and pulled it open. Outside she could see Jason, in shirt and breeches, at the head of the stairs and a cluster of frightened maids at the entrance of the passage that led to their bedrooms. Down in the hall, illuminated by a lantern placed on a side table, one of the menservants was eyeing the securely bolted front door nervously.
'Open the door, I know the fellow,' Jason ordered crisply, and reluctantly the man obeyed. Jason was half way down the stairs, with Isabella close behind him, when the heavy door swung back, revealing Jack, his cloak over his left arm, and his sword brandished in the other. His wig was awry, his cravat had come undone, and his eyes sparkled with a wild, desperate look.
Seeing him, the servant attempted to slam the door, but Jack was too quick for him, stepping into the hall and threatening the man with his sword, so that he stepped hastily back. Jack laughed and flung his cloak to the man, then his glance swept from him to Jason on the stairs, and Isabella behind. With an oath he sprang forward.
'So! I have found you, Marlowe! I did not believe that goddamned tale of Isabella's being hurt! Knave! You will pay for what you have done to her!'
'Jack, put down your sword! Don't be a fool!' Isabella cried out, but he continued to advance, flourishing his sword, until he reached the foot of the stairs. There he stopped with Jason, unarmed, just out of reach, and grinned wildly up at them both.
'I've caught you, you slut! Preaching to me, you're no better than a whore yourself!'
'Such insults to your cousin are unwarranted. Will you take them back voluntarily, or must I choke you with them?' Jason asked evenly.
'Try, villain!' Jack flung at him, and began to mount the stairs.
With a cry, Isabella flung herself forward towards Jack, who ignored her, his eyes intent on Jason. Jason put out his arm to catch Isabella, who missed her footing on the stairs and fell heavily against him just as Jack's sword flashed towards him. The point pierced Jason's arm, drawing a spurt of blood that quickly stained his sleeve. Jason's arms were about Isabella, and for a few moments Jack hesitated, unsure whether it was her blood. It gave Jason sufficient time to set Isabella back on her feet and leap down the remaining few stairs past Jack.
'You madman,' Jason said calmly. 'If you have aught to discuss, put down that sword and let us talk sensibly.'
Jack swung towards him, shaking off Isabella who tried to cling to his arm. Seeing he was blind with rage, unable to listen to reason, Jason looked round for a weapon. There was nothing within reach except a stool, and Jason grasped that, fending off Jack's attack with it, then leaping onto the long table which was in the centre of the room.
Jack rushed towards him, but was incapable of finesse. His wild thrusts and slashes were parried with the stool, Jason's stance on the table enabling him to ward off the blows. Then Jason manoeuvred so that Jack's sword was caught in the legs of the stool, and with a sudden twist sent the sword, dragged from Jack's grasp, clattering over the stone floor. For a moment Jack stood bewildered, but as Jason, casting away the stool, leaped from the table towards him, him arms came up to defend himself from the blows he dimly realised were aimed at him. It took Jason only one blow. Feinting with his right hand, he crashed his left fist onto Jack's jaw and Jack fell to the floor. Jason stood over him, ready to administer more punishment if necessary, but Jack, groaning and nursing his bruised jaw, lay staring up, making no attempt to rise to his feet.
*
Isabella, after her futile effort to restrain Jack, had remained on the bottom step, clutching the banisters, watching the fight tensely. It was she who first saw the man who came in through the front door, halting breathless at the scene before him.
'Jason, the door!' she cried out in alarm, fearing another attacker, and Jason glanced to where she pointed.
'Dick!' he exclaimed 'Here, sit down, man.' He pulled forward a chair and the man sank wearily into it.
'Thank God you're not hurt, sir!' the man gasped. 'I ran as fast as I could!'
'What happened?'
'I took your letter to Lyndon House, sir, and he,' indicating Jack, 'said he'd come back with me to escort the lady up to London. It seemed he was her cousin, and Lady Lyndon agreed, so I brought him along. But he's been drinking at every inn we've passed. Then a mile along the road, where we turn into the lane leading here, he dismounted, saying his horse had cast a shoe. Well, I got down to look and he pulled his sword on me, and before I could do aught about it, he'd remounted and was off, with my horse as well!'
Jason laughed. 'You fool, Dick, to be caught like that!' He glanced at Jack, now sitting morosely on the floor, holding his head between his hands. 'He's in no state to trick you again. He needs sobering up. Take him out into the kitchen yard, and put him under the pump. Afterwards, find him a bed, but be sure to lock him in! Ned, give Dick a hand.'
With an enthusiasm that boded no mercy for their victim, the two stalwarts bore down upon Sir Jack and, ignoring his feeble protests, heaved him to his feet and guided his steps towards the kitchen. Isabella watched them go, then turned back to Jason. She noticed the bloodstain on his sleeve, and her eyes widened in fear.
'Jason, you are hurt!'
He glanced down at it. 'A mere scratch. I will soon deal with it.'
'I will do it. Fetch water and bandages,' she ordered, and one of the maids hastened to obey. 'The rest of you can go back to bed. Be sure the door is fastened.'
Jason looked on, amused, as they scurried away, then, the maid returning with the bowl of water and some pieces of linen, he directed her to take them into the small parlour. Isabella dismissed the girl and told Jason to sit in the chair beside the fire which was still alight. As he meekly obeyed her, a twinkle in his eye which she tried to ignore, she rolled up his shirt sleeve and dealt efficiently with the wound, which was slight. She insisted on bandaging it, and as she tied the last knot he caught her hand in his and prevented her from moving away.
'Thank you, my love.' He raised his other hand and gently his fingers traced the marks of tears on her cheeks. 'What is this? Not new tears, for my injury or for your cousin. Tell me.'
She shook her head, but he slid his arm round her waist and pulled her down so that she was sitting on his knees.
'Please, Jason! You must not!'
'I must, for I cannot see you unhappy. There are things we must say, and now might be the only opportunity. Your fire-eating cousin will not leave us alone tomorrow, you can be sure of that! He will wish to drag you off to London the moment he wakes. Or I might keep him imprisoned for a time?'
She chuckled. 'I am so ashamed of him! After what you were proposing to do for him, too!'
'He was not aware of that. And I am still proposing to do it. He's a young fool, but he might improve after some army discipline. But I have no wish to talk of him. My concern is with you. Why will you not marry me?'
'Because you are forced into it!' Isabella cried. 'Do you not see? Everyone will think the same as Jack! My reputation could be ruined, though I care little for that, and you feel obliged to make amends by offering marriage. It was sheer accident that brought me here, and you were too kind not to think of the consequences, but no one will believe it!'
'I am not craven enough to be coerced into a marriage I do not wish,' Jason answered firmly. 'Do not talk nonsense, my love. I am not self-sacrificing enough to offer marriage to a woman I do not love. I have been wanting to tell you ever since we met!'
She looked up at that, astonished.
'The first time we met? Why, how can you? That was when you were being so abominable to Clare!'
He laughed. 'Are you going to blame me for paying attentions to pretty girls before I met the love of my life?'
She stared at him, too amazed to reply.
'Yes, I was attracted to Clare, for she is very lovely, but I forgot her the moment you appeared.'
'I cannot – I do not believe it! Clare is so lovely. How could anyone prefer me to her?'
'Beauty is not all a man wants, though you have that anyway. You also have spirit, and courage, and all the qualities I want in my wife.'
'But I have no money!'
'I have ample.'
'You did not seem to like me when we met,' she protested, still not daring to believe he spoke the truth.
'We did seem to quarrel rather a lot,' he said laughing. 'Are you afraid because I have been accounted a rake? I have been, in searching for a woman I could love and cherish, a woman like you. I never found one, but the moment I set eyes on you I knew my search was over, and I have had no thoughts for any other. Can you believe I love you?'
Isabella shook her head, speechless.
'Do you not trust me?'
Gently he kissed her, and Isabella, her senses swimming, surrendered to the delicious sensations aroused in her. At length Jason paused, and whispered in her ear as she lay with her head on his shoulder.
'You prove you are made for love, so why do you scorn it? Is it because you have been disappointed before?'
Isabella sat up at that, startled.
'What do you mean? How do you know?'
'You talked in your delirium, while I watched over you,' he explained gently, 'and methinks I understood. A young man called Henry hurt you very badly.'
Slowly Isabella's eyes clouded over, and she nodded.
'Tell me if it would help.'
'I was very young,' she said softly, 'only just sixteen. He lived in Brussels with his family. They were exiled also. He vowed he loved me, and would never leave me.' Her voice broke and she caught back a sob.
'And he was found unworthy?'
'His family left Brussels, and he swore he would return to claim me when he was able to offer me a home. I believed him for three years, then I heard he had married a French heiress only a few months after leaving me.'
'And from that time on you have not had faith in men? My poor Isabella, how unhappy you have been!'
'That was why I tried to dissuade Clare from accepting Edward. I did not think love was enough! It does not last!'
'We are not all the same as the fool who let you go, my sweet. It would be difficult to promise eternal fidelity to a woman one did not love, but I have never before even wished to offer it. I do to you, Isabella. I have, as I am sure you will never allow me to forget, had wide experience,' he chuckled, 'and so I can say you are different from all the rest. Isabella, will you dare risk loving me?'
Her eyes shining, Isabella still could not totally accept the wonder of it, though she knew beyond doubt she loved him.
'Jason,' she said hesitantly, 'you half persuade me! But what of my abominable temper? Could you live with that?'
He grinned, his eyes warm and loving. 'It is undoubtedly fiery, my dearest one, but I do not fear being unable to control you! You need a man who is not afraid of you, and there are not many such!'
Isabella was taken aback for a moment, then laughed.
'Then you have been warned! Oh, my dear!'
His lips came close to hers. As his eyes smiled deep into hers he murmured, 'Most likely we will fight on occasion, but most of the time we will love!'
His embrace left Isabella breathless, and she forgot all else but the bliss of being in Jason's arms. It was he who eventually released her.
'My own beloved! 'Tis fortunate your cousin is here to play propriety for one night. Tomorrow I must take you to London, for you are much too disturbing to be alone with me until we are safely wed!'
Marina Oliver has written over 75 novels, all are available as ebooks.
For the latest information please see Marina's web site:
More novels by Marina set in the 1660s:
Hugo, Earl of Winton, needs a wife and an heir if his weak cousin William and his unpleasant French wife Hortense, with the son who might not be her husband's, is not to succeed him.
He decides Philippa Stannerly will be suitable. She is pretty, and an heiress.
Philippa, in love with Charles, is distraught.
Then her French cousin Sophie du Plessis comes to London and promises to help her. Their mothers were twins, and the girls are sufficiently alike to confuse people who do not know them well.
When Hugo sees Sophie on her own he offers her a lift home, intending to pursue his suit in the belief she is Philippa. She maintains the deception, hoping to prove to her uncle that Hugo is not a fit husband for Philippa.
Her behaviour is, however, unlike Philippa's shy response, and Hugo is intrigued.
*
The Earl of Winton was a notorious rake at the Court of Charles II, but falls in love with Sophie when he abducts her in mistake for her cousin Philippa.
They plan their wedding, but Sophie and her parents must go home to France, where her grandmother is ill.
Strange happenings follow them, and they suspect Hugo's discarded mistress, Kate Trent, and Monsieur de Terville, a probable agent of King Louis XIV, both of whom wish them ill.
*
Callias is brought to the Restoration Court by her husband John Cobden, who married her for her money, but once there he neglects her.
She is pursued by many amorous gallants, including the King, but has eyes only for Sir Richard Weston.
His betrothal to Anne Laver, arranged by their families, is broken by her jealous cousin.
Fate, in the guise of an angry John, a malicious Anne, and even the intervention of the King, separates them, and Callias faces terrible danger.
***