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when he vaulted back over to return his prize, dislodging his hat, that Nathan had noticed that betraying bright bit of hair.
    And then he saw the man’s face.
    He had jerked his horses to a complete halt, doing his best not to gape, only to be treated to the sight of Lily Hawkins publicly, shockingly, kissing Fellowes on the mouth.
    “What a bold minx!” his passenger had observed, evidently not recognising the plainly-dressed girl as the toast of Covent Garden. Not to mention overlooking the fact that she herself had been cheerfully committing adultery for the last decade with countless men—including, a few years ago, Nathan himself.
    Had he mumbled some reply? He wasn’t entirely sure. He had been fixated on the kissing couple, who finally broke apart, smiling into one another’s eyes before Fellowes glanced away—and straight at Nathan.
    Strictly speaking, it was none of his business what Fellowes got up to on his afternoon off. But Lily Hawkins? Since their meeting, he had discovered Lily had a protector—a wealthy baronet just up from the country from what he’d heard. Of course, Nathan knew only too well that it was not uncommon for women like Lily to have a lover of choice whilst simultaneously pursuing more profitable liaisons. But Lily and Fellowes? He could see that Fellowes’ youthful beauty might appeal to a woman like Lily, but in truth, he was surprised that she appealed to him . He had begun to wonder whether Fellowes’ tastes ran in a rather different direction…
    Their gazes met only for a moment, Nathan giving the barest nod to his valet before he turned his attention back to his horses and set them off at a smart trot. But as he drove away, he could still see the shocked expression on the other man’s face.
    It was much later that he realised he had not noticed Lily’s expression at all.

Chapter 6
    Harland never mentioned their silent encounter in the park.
    Georgy went back to the house that evening to discover that he was out and would not require her services until the next morning. She lay in bed that night, wondering if he would allude to what he had seen, but when morning came, he gave the same restrained greeting as always. After that he didn’t even much look at her, never mind speak. In short, he behaved just as usual.
    And so another week passed much the same as the previous five, with Harland attending the usual round of morning rides, sporting events, sessions in the House and evening entertainments, for each of which occasions there was an ensemble of clothing to be readied.
    Life as a valet wasn’t so very different from her life in the theatre. In the theatre she dressed the actors according to their parts. Dressing Harland in his exquisite clothes was much the same. The naked man she saw each morning started the day silent and introspective. But as he donned his civilised clothing, he gradually began to assume the mantle of the Earl of Harland. She could see his inward focus begin to turn outwards, his bearing begin to stiffen and the expression on his face harden, the fine features sharpening to take on their characteristic mocking glint.
    It was not that he permitted his valet to see the man beneath the cynical, urbane veneer, but servants, Georgy was discovering, were uniquely placed to observe certain truths.
    Her life revolved around him now. He was the sole focus of her existence. His desires gave her life its shape. It was peculiar—and slightly humiliating—to be so entirely devoted to another person’s wishes and to experience no reciprocation of interest from that person. Harland had never seen his devoted valet in the bath or sleeping or in dishabille, as his valet had seen him. He probably did not know that his butler’s sight was failing, that his cook’s daughter had just had twins or that his second footman was tupping one of the chambermaids. But every one of those servants could recite the names of Harland’s last half dozen fancy-women, his favourite