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CHAPTER ONE

“GEORGIE? GEORGIE! Open this door! Aw—c’ie Jus’ a bit of a kiss an’ cuddle D’you hear ie? Lemme in!”

Georgiana Hartley sat cross-legged in the ure in the huge four-poster The flickering light of a single candle gleaant knot Her large hazel eyes, fixed on the door of her chamber, held an expression of annoyance; her soft lips were co a definite boor

It was her seventh night in England, her fourth at the Place, seat of her forefathers and hoht she had had to seek the safety of her bedchamber at a ridiculously early hour, to avoid Charles’s drink-driven importunities

She had done it again

Pulling a pillow across her lap, and wrinkling her nose at the musty siana berated herself, for as certainly not the first time and would undoubtedly not be the last, for her apparently innate impulsiveness It had been that alone which had driven her to leave the sunny climes of the Italian coast and return to the land of her birth Still, on her father’s death, it had seeh she dropped her chin on to her hands, keeping her eyes trained on the door All was quiet, but she knew Charles was still there, just outside, hoping she h to try to slip out

James Hartley, painter and vivant, had left his only child to the guardianship of his only brother, her uncle Ernest Uncle Ernest had lived at the Place Unfortunately, he had died one iana sniffed Doubtless she should feel sorief on the death of so with a farloss And particularly when circumstances had conspired to land her in Charles’s lap For the news of her uncle’s death had not reached James Hartley’s Italian solicitors in tiht from the beauties of Ravello, her home for the last twelve years, now filled with too many painful memories She had arrived at the Place to find Charles—Uncle Ernest’s son, and a stranger to her—in possession

The solid oak door rattled and ju concern The worn lock and the old iron hinges were all that stood between her and her drink-sodden cousin

“Aw, Georgie, don’ be a prude You’ll like’t, I proiana’s ears “It’s all right You know I’ll marry you Leie? C’ie, open this door, I say!”

Georgiana sternly repressed a shiver of pure revulsion Marry Charles? Feeling panic stir, she deterht aside Noas no tio to pieces

The door bounced, reverberating on its hinges as Charles iana’s eyes grew round As the thu continued, she scanned the roo, not even a candelabruaze to the heavy oak door, philosophically waiting for whatever came next, confident that, one way or another, she would deal with it

But the door stood fir

“Daet away! You can’t escape ive in, soon or late” A jeering, drunken laugh crept into the room “You’ll see”

Unsteady footsteps retreated down the passage as Charles took hi crazily

Slowly Georgiana raised her brows She re When five minutes had passed with no sound from beyond her door, she hurled aside the pillow and slipped from the bed A determined frown settled across her heart-shaped face She fell to pacing the room Can’t escape?

For five minutes she walked the unpolished boards The histled and h the ill-fitting shutters to send the curtains skittering Absent-ed the patched quilt fro it about her shoulders She reviewed her options There weren’t land, had no one to turn to But one thing was certain—she could not stay here If she did, Charles would force her to marry him—by hook or by crook She couldn’t hide behind locked doors forever

With the dogged and purposeful air which had carried her across an unstable Continent unharmed, she threw off the quilt and crossed to the wardrobe Setting the door wide, she struggled to pull her trunk free Once she got it to the floor, she tugged the cumbersome corded box to the side of the bed She opened the heavy lid and propped it against the bed

A scratching at the door startled her

Slowly Georgiana straightened and eyed the scarred oak panels with

The noise caain

“Miss Georgie? It’s me, Cruickshank”

Georgiana let out the breath she had been holding and went to the door It was a fight to turn the heavy key After , the bolt fell back and she eased the heavy door open “Cruckers! Thank goodness you’ve coet hold of you”

Maria Cruickshank, a thin, weedy wohtly confined, sniffed loudly Originallyto a faiana had

“As if I’d not co with all that racket He ood I told you so Now do you believe me?”

Together they pushed the door shut Cruickshank wrestled the lock ho woriot to