He indulged himself with memories of her delicate face and curvaceous figure, before he suddenly frowned. It was strange, but somehow she reminded him of someone. He thought of her ebony locks, her white skin and her ruby lips, and his mind lingered for a moment on the memory. But then he shook his head. No. She could not remind him of anyone. He knew no one with such striking colouring. And yet there had been something. Something about her determined manner and the shape of her chin...

No. It was gone. He could not catch it.

Oh, well, she had provided him with an interesting interlude in his journey down to London, but it was probably a good thing she had not accepted his offer of sharing his bed, because it was serious business that had brought him back to England, and he had no time for distractions.

However charming those distractions might be.

Thank goodness! thought Rebecca as her coach rolled out of the inn yard the following morning. Her journey so far had been fraught with difficulties and she was relieved to be on her way. Her coach joined the London road and she turned her attention to the beautiful scene outside the window. Although the weather was icy the sky was a brilliant blue, and the snow was a lovely sight.

She snuggled down beneath her travelling rug, settled her booted feet more comfortably on her stone hot water bottle and gave herself up to an enjoyment of the view.

Towns and villages passed by, until at last, just before lunch, she entered the capital, and from there it was but a short journey to her aunt and uncle's house in Sloane Street.