Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin. Christine Merrill

      Instead, she continued as though she found nothing particularly unusual about his past. ‘I enjoyed my schooling as well. There is a great comfort to be found in books.’

      And why did you need comforting, I wonder? The woman was a curiosity.

      ‘But in such places as I was sent, most of the time is spent ensuring that young ladies are properly prepared to take their roles as wives and mothers, and are assets to the households of their intended husbands.’

      Which made them sound little better than servants. Perhaps they had more in common then he’d thought.

      She sighed. ‘When Mother died, it was agreed, amongst us, that it would be for the best that I come home from school and see to things.’

      Liar. Her father had commanded it, he was sure. He risked a question. ‘And what sorts of things needed seeing to?’

      ‘Once we were out of mourning, my younger sister, Priscilla, was ready to make her come out. And it has been decided that I must be her guard, until she finds a husband. The stronger must protect the weaker, after all.’

      ‘And you are the stronger,’ he said, softly.

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘I am. In mind and in body. I am older and wiser, as well. And with no mother to advise or protect her, someone must care for Priscilla.’ There had been the faintest, most fleeting hint of a something on her face as she had said it, as though she remembered a time not so long ago when she had not thought that way at all. But her father had called her home. And like an obedient daughter, she had come and done exactly as she was told, putting all of her own dreams aside for the good of her sister. More than her mother had died on that day, John was sure of it, but Lady Dru had convinced herself otherwise.

      Out of the blue, she added, ‘Priscilla is the prettier of the two of us, and with the extra attention she receives from so many gentlemen, there is an increased risk.’

      ‘Prettier than you?’

      For a moment, her frown faded into a look of surprise, softening her features into a dark attractiveness that quickened his pulse. ‘Of course. She is of a more appropriate height, delicate of frame, fair of hair, pale of skin.’

      And that explained why she would run to Scotland after a man who no longer wanted her. If she thought this Mr Gervaise was her only opportunity, if their understanding was that he would wait until she felt free to marry, she would be loathe to let him go.