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pretences?’
    Lucas’s lips thinned. It was the one question that he had not permitted himself to consider. ‘I cannot allow that to influence me.’
    There was a silence between them. ‘I appreciate your difficulty, Lucas,’ Cory said slowly. ‘Sometimes, however, a man must follow his instinct.’
    ‘Following one’s instinct can get one killed,’ Lucas said bleakly.
    ‘And ignoring it can lose a man the one thing he most desires,’ Cory pointed out gently.
    Lucas shifted irritably. ‘Marriage is making you soft, Cory Newlyn. Why tie yourself to one woman when there is an entire legion of them out there?’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Cory said, ‘because one particular woman is all you need?’
    Lucas gave him a cynical smile. ‘Definitely soft, Cory.’
    ‘All rakes reform in the end,’ Cory said, ‘unless they want to end as sad old roués leaning on their canes and leering at the débutantes.’
    Lucas shuddered. ‘You paint such an attractive picture.’
    ‘Think about it,’ Cory said, smiling. ‘Look at Richard.’
    Lucas shook his head. ‘Richard was ready to reform,’ he said slowly. ‘He was in love. I…’ he hesitated, ‘… I am not.’
    Cory sighed. ‘Nor ever shall be? I thought that you had recovered well enough from your youthful disappointment to realise that not all women are designing harpies.’
    Lucas laughed. ‘Oh, I have. My antipathy does not stem from that.’ His face stilled. ‘It is more that I have never met a woman to whom I wished to be faithful. Ever after is a long time.’
    ‘You are thinking of your father,’ Cory said acutely.
    Lucas shrugged. ‘I am thinking of my mother,’ he said. ‘She detested Papa’s philandering, but she never said a word against him.’ He shifted uncomfortably in his chair for, even now, the memories were hard to recall. ‘She never said a word, but she lost the happiness that once lit her eyes. I could not ask for such stoicism from my wife.’ He fixed Cory with a sardonic look. ‘If you start to tell me, in that exasperating manner of happily married people, that I shall feel differently when I meet the right woman, then—’
    Cory held up a hand peaceably. ‘I should not dream of it, Luc.’ He got to his feet and slapped Lucas good-naturedly on the shoulder. ‘I wish you good fortune. I am away, home to my wife.’
    Lucas watched Cory’s tall figure thread its way through the milling crowd about the card tables. He saw Cory pause to greet an acquaintance here and there, but there was a barely repressed impatience about him that soon had him on the move again. Lucas noticed that he turned down at least two offers of a round of piquet and several invitations to join some cronies for a drink. He shook his head thoughtfully. He had the greatest admiration for Rachel Newlyn, but he could not see why Cory should be in such a hurry to return to her side. Petticoat government… He had done verywell without it these twenty-eight years past and he was not about to succumb to its lure now. This business with Rebecca Raleigh was a different matter entirely. The only reason he felt badly about deceiving her was because she was young and alone. She had struck him as gallant. Yes, that was the word to describe Miss Raleigh. She was gallant in the face of all the odds and he admired her courage whilst being in danger of trampling that very gallantry underfoot.
    ‘Devil take it!’ Lucas said bad-temperedly, slapping his glass down so hard that the table shook. He had come out to drown his sorrows and yet it seemed there was nowhere to hide. He felt the greatest scoundrel in the whole world.
    With two commissions to complete, Rebecca rose each day when the bleary London dawn spread across the sky and worked late into the night. During daylight she would throw the shutters wide to draw as much natural light into the workshop as possible. When night came she would light the candles and continue until her head ached and her eyes itched. There was