Fielding circled the assembly room with Anabelle on his arm, accepting the greetings and congratulations of the Latimers' friends and neighbours. Most had been generous in the face of Anabelle's good fortune, but they were also surprisingly amicable to him.

Yet it was more than the respect and deference owed to someone of superior rank. He could detect no obsequious flattery in their words or an eagerness to please, only a genuine warmth and pleasure in his presence.

It was not until after their fourth such meeting that he thought to question Anabelle on the reason for it.

She leaned closer, as though about to impart a great secret. "I wish I could say that your consequence engenders their respect, but I cannot. It is not who you are but what you have done that has earned the greatest share of their admiration."

"Apart from stealing away the loveliest woman in the parish, I did nothing of note."

"To you, no doubt, it was nothing. You probably gave it no more weight than you would to any of the other estate matters you dealt with upon your arrival. But believe me, it was no small thing to arrange for Mrs Jamison's roof to be repaired."

"Mrs Jamison? She is a Blackwood tenant of good standing. Her cottage belongs to the estate and it is the estate's responsibility to make repairs. I only did what the former steward should have done a long time ago."

"Yes, but he did not mend the roof. You did. When everyone believed you were a steward they assumed you wished to make a good impression for your new employer. Now they know you for the gentleman you are it has shown your actions in a more compassionate light."

"Why?"

"Because gentlemen do not generally call upon tenants and sympathise over their concerns or enquire about their health, particularly when the estate is not their own. You cared enough to make the task a priority."

"Because the leak was making her ill."

"Your reason makes no difference. Mrs Jamison is well known in the area. She is generous with her opinions, and thinks you are no less than an angel sent from on high. You may not have seen or spoken to many people during your stay at Blackwood Hall, but through her everyone knows of you and your thoughtfulness."

Fielding was not sure what to say to this revelation. He had done nothing more than he would have expected of his steward at Meltham. The difference, he supposed, was that his own tenants enjoyed a certain level of consideration. The tenants of Blackwood had lived with an inefficient and dishonest man and knew no different. "I only did what was necessary, but you may make a virtue of it by all means."

Mr. Latimer then came towards them, leaning heavily against his cane. "Anabelle. Mr. Fielding. I thought to see you dancing."

"I have been introducing Mr. Fielding to some of our neighbours."

"That is good. So have I." He dropped into one of the chairs that stood around the edge of the room and sighed. "That's better. Now, Anabelle, unless my ears are deceiving me, that cacophony means they are getting ready to begin the next set. Mr. Fielding, take my daughter onto the floor and do try to enjoy yourselves."

As they waited for the lines to form Fielding allowed himself a moment to savour the sight of his intended standing opposite him. Her gown gleamed under the light from the chandeliers, and the pearls threaded through Anabelle's hair swayed and shivered as she looked around; contrasting against her rich brown curls like stars shining on a dark night.

Fielding knew little about female apparel, but compared to the other ladies in the room Anabelle's evening dress was not as fussy or ornamented. Yet despite the simplicity of the design, the unadorned lines showed her figure to good advantage and marked her as a woman of taste.

Then the music began, and Anabelle raised her eyes to meet his as the first couples at the other end of the line took up the sequence of movements.

He held her gaze, his mind whispering wordless promises before he allowed his focus to travel down her neck and along the delicate bones towards her shoulder, like a caress.

Anabelle blushed, as though he was actually touching her in front of an audience of her neighbours rather than standing on the opposite side of the dance.

With the eyes of Haltford upon them he could not feel her tempting softness within his embrace, nor taste the sweetness of her lips. But he could listen to Anabelle's enticing laughter as they danced, and admire the grace of her movements; convinced that his betrothed was beyond doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

As they came together he said, "You dance very well, Miss Latimer."

The progression of steps moved her to his right, but her eyes never left his. "Do I? I have had so few opportunities to practice. I am pleased to hear you do not find me lacking in such a vital accomplishment."

"I am certain that would be impossible."

She laughed as the music concluded. "As you are far from an impartial observer I would hardly expect you to say otherwise."

He leaned closer, whispering in her ear. "Any partiality on my part ought to be forgiven in a soon-to-be devoted husband."

Adorably flustered, Anabelle could only nod and smile as the musicians struck up the second piece of music.

During the dance, no matter where or when Fielding weaved around and across the other dancers, Anabelle's presence was a steady flame. The closer they moved, the greater the warmth, until he touched her hand. Then, the heat would spark between their fingers, fusing them together for a brief moment before they returned to their places in the set.

The dance was almost complete when a shrill discordance at the side of the room marred the atmosphere, like a thistle growing amid a field of daffodils. Heads turned and the dancers lost their concentration, stepping outside the pattern and losing their place.

As Anabelle heard the raised voices behind her, he saw her shoulders stiffen and the hint of a frown cross her brow. Separated by a generous length of oak parquetry, he wondered which member of the Latimer family was responsible for the disruption to her equanimity this time.

The couples clapped as the music and the set came to an end. He would have preferred to pull Anabelle off the dance floor and into his arms; to smooth away the worry and wrap her in his love and protection. Instead, he accepted the fingers she entrusted to his grasp and steered her back to her mother's side.

He assumed the bird-like squawk of indignation had originated with Mrs Latimer, but he was wrong. The Latimer matriarch betrayed barely a ripple of concern as she faced down the shorter woman who stood before her.

Miss Margaret Mountford cast a disdainful glare at her adversary. "I realise it is easy to become confused and disoriented, particularly in a small room such as this where the air is so oppressive. Ah, here is Mr. Fielding now. I am sure he will clear up this trifling matter for us." There was a note of triumph in Margaret Mountford's tone as she turned her wide smile towards him. "Mrs Latimer was just telling me your good news. It appears I should offer my felicitations."

Her statement—wrapped in a challenge and tied with a generous length of scepticism—invited him to put the older woman firmly in her place. He had not intentionally neglected to tell Henry's sisters of his betrothal that afternoon. The thought had simply never crossed his mind. With hindsight he ought to have known better, but his desire to write to his family had overridden every other consideration.

His selfishness had prompted this scene, and had caused his beloved and her family unnecessary distress.

Fielding moved Anabelle closer, pulling her hand through his arm and covering her fingers with his; a possessive gesture he hoped no one would miss. If Margaret Mountford had thought to hear a denial, or maybe even a denunciation from him, she would be disappointed. "Thank you. I am fortunate indeed that Miss Latimer has done me the great honour of consenting to be my wife."

For a few seconds she stood in shock. Then her eyes narrowed before she fixed a false smile onto her face. "You are certainly full of surprises tonight, Mr. Fielding. I would never have guessed that you had such momentous news to share." Her voice sounded sharp and fragile, like splinters of broken glass, and he did not doubt that she still had the capacity to cause pain if she so wished. She glanced towards Anabelle, but her eyes faltered, unable to maintain her glare. "I must find my sister and acquaint her with your joyous tidings."

Fournier, who had been hovering uselessly behind Margaret during the confrontation, offered Fielding an uncertain bow. "To you and your fiancée I offer my greatest félicitations." He looked across the room as Margaret Mountford passed through the entrance, then bowed once more before slipping away through the crowd.

Mrs Latimer appeared very much like a cat that had seen off competition for the sunniest window-sill. "'Tis a shame she isn't more like her brother, for I have never met a more agreeable gentleman."

"Miss Margaret's unfortunate temper and lack of forethought can sometimes get the better of her."

Anabelle's mother continued as though he had not spoken. "I ask you, how can a mother misunderstand when a man asks to marry her own daughter? Any sister of dear Sir Henry will always be welcome in my house, to be sure, but it will try my patience to be polite to her.''

As Anabelle attempted to calm her step-mother's ruffled feathers, Fielding waited for Sally to make an appearance. He did not have to wait for long.

Miss Mountford arrived, spreading a solicitous and apologetic balm upon Mrs Latimer's indignant soul before drawing him slightly apart from the crowd.

"I am rather aggrieved that I had to hear the news from Margaret, of all people," she said, poking him in the chest. "You could not have warned me?"

He could only shrug, having prepared no good excuse. "How is your sister?"

"Incensed, as you might imagine. Her vain hope of one day becoming mistress of Meltham has long blinded her to reality. However, the shock may do her some good."

"Fournier follows her around like a lap-dog. Would she accept him if he offered?"

"Dear me, no, but he won't go that far. She was useful to him while we were in town, but there is no one here who can help him achieve the social respectability he craves, so I suspect he will leave us soon." Sally smiled and nodded, acknowledging a passing neighbour. "But what of you and Miss Latimer? You will marry here in Haltford, I assume."

His gaze drifted back to Anabelle. "Yes, as soon as it can be managed."

Sally laughed. "Patience was never a strong trait of yours, but I will be pleased to see you so happily settled. I had despaired of finding anyone for you who would suit, but Miss Latimer will make you an excellent wife."

"I am glad you approve."

"Not that it would have made any difference to you if I had not. Perhaps, while you are waiting for Miss Latimer, you should take a moment to further your acquaintance with your future father-in-law." Sally looked meaningfully towards the side of the room where Mr. Latimer sat alone, his stick tapping the ground in time with the music.

As little as Fielding relished the idea of speaking to Anabelle's father, he knew he could not avoid it forever. Not willing to loom over the older man, he was forced by common courtesy to take the seat next to his and they remained there a moment in silent contemplation.

Then Mr. Latimer cleared his throat. "You know, this evening I have spoken to people I have not seen for six months or more."

"And did you enjoy reconnecting with your old friends?"

"Of course not. It only reminded me why I never attend these foolish entertainments. Ah, here is Sir Henry. At least he appears to be enjoying himself."

A grinning Mountford collapsed in the chair next to Fielding with the exhaustion of a man who had danced almost every dance. "I cannot remember when I have spent a more delightful evening! It is a shame that the ball ends so soon, for I feel I could dance all night. I must talk to Sally about arranging a ball at Blackwood. What do you think, Fielding? Is this not preferable to those awful crushes we attend in town?"

Fielding agreed. The evening had certainly not been the embarrassment he had feared, as news of his status had spread throughout the room with almost frightening efficiency. He had no doubts that Anabelle's father had been partly responsible.

Mr. Latimer dipped his head, studying Fielding over the rim of his spectacles. "I suspect you are exhausted, considering you were awake so early this morning."

"Ridiculously early," Mountford agreed as he shook an accusing finger towards Anabelle's father. "And with such a determined desire for outdoor exercise that he would not be turned from his purpose. You must have suspected something. Otherwise how could you be so certain they would meet again?"

The older man laughed. "I know my daughter, sir, and I knew enough of Mr. Fielding here to form an educated guess what would happen if we left them to their own devices. I sincerely hope that you will learn to trust my judgement in the future."

Mountford grumbled as he thrust a hand in his pocket. A flash of silver followed as he tossed a coin into Mr. Latimer's waiting hand.

Fielding, listening to their conversation with growing disquiet, glared at Anabelle's father. "The two of you wagered half a crown on whether Miss Latimer and I would marry?"

"No, no. I merely suggested that I would not be surprised if you and Anabelle contrived another assignation before tonight's ball. Sir Henry did not believe you would do such a shocking thing. He was wrong, of course."

That explained Mountford's strange behaviour early that morning, and his friend's half-hearted attempts to dissuade him from leaving the house.

It also suggested why Mr. Latimer had been so insistent upon his eldest daughter calling upon the Mountford sisters the day after the unfortunate dinner at Woodside. It seemed that Anabelle's father had not entirely given up manipulating his family in order to achieve his desired objective. "I sincerely hope that Anabelle never gets to hear about this behaviour, from either of you."

Mr. Latimer smiled, with the same placid innocence Fielding still found unnerving. "Of course not. There is no reason at all why she should."