Carleton sat fretting in silence in the dark. He had hired a hackney cab for the whole night, giving the driver ten pounds to be at his exclusive disposal. As this was more than he would make in a month, the man had been more than happy to oblige. Every so often he would flick the horse awake and they would take a turn around the block.

Impatiently, Frances waited for her dinner things to be cleared away and the household to retire for the night, then dressed thankfully in the items Mrs Pearson had brought to her. She sat down on the bed and checked that her pistol was loaded. Patience, she told herself, wait a bit longer. The minutes passed with agonising slowness until finally she heard the watchman call out the midnight hour. It was time. Hopefully Tom would have roused a little with the call.

She started groaning, gradually getting louder, "Oh my stomach," she moaned. She stumbled noisily from the bed and banged feebly at the door. "Help me, Tom, I feel so sick, I think I'm dying!"

She heard a shuffling noise, then his voice came through the door in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm not allowed to come in there, Miss. You'll be alright once you've cast up your accounts."

"It's not that, Tom, it's ..oh, I can't tell you, you would not understand. I need a female to assist me, get Mrs Pearson please, Tom!" She moaned again.

Alarmed and fearful about these mysterious feminine problems, Tom wavered for a moment then left his post in search of the old nurse, this was not something he could deal with by himself. Mrs Pearson rose quickly and draped a cloak over her nightclothes, "Whatever is the matter, Tom?" she remembered to ask.

"It's Miss Frances, she is not well. She asked me to bring you up to her," whispered Tom.

"Certainly," she agreed. "I will come straight away. Let's be careful not to wake Lady Murray," she added. Tom needed no reminder and they both crept back upstairs to the old nursery.

"Open the door, Tom," she ordered. Tom unlocked the door and opened it for Mrs Pearson to enter. His eyes went straight to the empty bed. Where was the girl?

"Come in both of you, please," came a familiar voice from against the wall, right next to the open door. Tom looked around and was dumbfounded to see a young man in front of him, pointing a pistol at him with very steady hands.

"Inside!" the youth gestured with the pistol. Mrs Pearson clung to Tom's arm, preventing him from tackling the stranger even if he had wanted to. "Oh do what she says, Tom, oh dear, I shall have a spasm for certain." She leant heavily on his arm.

Reluctantly Tom did as he was ordered, his brain only just catching up with the fact that the 'youth' wasn't a stranger at all. Tom was a strapping young man and it went against the grain for him to submit to a chit of a girl, pistol or not, but he could hardly throw Mrs Pearson to the floor.

"The key please!" demanded Frances. "I must warn you that I am a crack shot," she threatened, then added cheerfully. "Of course, I could scarcely miss from this distance!"

Tom handed the key over unwillingly. The youth, who Tom knew must be Frances, edged out of the room. "I am afraid you are not going to have a very comfortable night, but I need a head start. Give my regards to Grandmother!" Then they heard the sound of the key turning in the lock.

Tom half carried, half dragged Mrs Pearson to the bed then flung himself at the door, but as Frances had discovered previously it was exceedingly solid. Mrs Pearson sat back on the bed and looked at the ceiling, it was going to be a long night.

Frances slid noiselessly along the candlelit passage, her boots in one hand and her pistol in the other. The haversack was slung over one shoulder. She reached her blue bedroom without incident and found it much as she had left it. Hastily, she packed a few valuable items into the haversack, including her father's ring, the more costly of her wigs, the water green gown and a few small items of clothing. The rest of the articles could be retrieved later if possible, unless Lady Murray destroyed them in a fit of pique.

The front door would be locked and barred for the night. Cautiously she opened the window and leant out. Her room overlooked the front of the house and she could see the pavement about twelve feet below. She tossed her boots to the ground, swung herself out the window until she was holding on by her hands, then dropped sure footedly to the pavement.

She looked around but could see no-one waiting for her. Just then a carriage ambled quietly down the street and drew up in front of her. Carleton leant forward and opened the door, "Frances?"

"Here, my lord," she stepped into the coach without hesitating and Carleton closed the door behind her. As previously instructed, the cab picked up speed immediately, rattling over the cobblestones on its way to Carleton's house. It was dark inside the coach, Carleton wished he could see her face. "Are you all right?" he demanded.

"Nothing a bath and a good meal won't cure," she responded cheerfully. "Tell me everything that has happened! I was never so surprised to see Mrs Pearson, a conspirator! She carried everything off like an actress born!" She suddenly remembered she had left her locked in the nursery, "Oh dear, I hope she does not have too uncomfortable a night. I had to leave her and Tom prisoners in the old nursery, where they had been holding me!" she added darkly.

"Where are we going?" she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She had thought from his letter that Carleton would sweep her into his arms, but perhaps he felt uncomfortable when she was dressed in men's clothes.

"My house. Your manservant Hopgood is there too," he reassured her. "He wanted you both to leave for Dover immediately but I hoped ..."

"Yes?"

"I hoped you would consider staying with me. Damn this dark! How can I tell what you are thinking if I cannot see you?"

For answer, Frances lent across the seat and kissed him on the mouth. He froze for a stunned second then pulled her roughly to him so that she was seated on his lap, his arms holding her tightly against him. He opened his mouth beneath hers and kissed her back, his tongue licking against hers, his hand caressing her down the curve of her hip and thigh. It was as if she had set a match to a powder keg. She put both arms around his neck, and wriggled around to get more comfortable.

"For heavens' sake!" he gasped, "Keep still or I shall ..I shall-"

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Never mind, I shall explain things once we are wed."

Speechless for a moment she drew back from him.

"What is the matter? Do I go too far?" He brought his hand back to her waist, peering through the darkness to try and read her expression.

"Richard, you do not have to marry me. I will be yours as long as you want me."

He swallowed. "I want you forever, Frances, marry me, please."

"Are you sure? There will be an almighty scandal, most of the ton will not recognise me you know."

"I am very sure, besides how else will I get my hands on your ten thousand pounds?" he teased.

She laughed. "In that case, yes, I will marry you, just to save you from a life of poverty."

"Kiss me again so I know you mean it," he demanded. Some breathless moments later the cab came to a halt outside Carleton's house, rather to the disappointment of both its occupants.

"Oh gad, I wish I had not told Hopgood he might stay with me, I am certain he means to act as your chaperone. I hope you are not hanging out for a long engagement, I don't think I can wait very long," he murmured as he helped her out of the carriage and paid off the driver.

"Well my parents married by special licence," said Frances demurely, "Perhaps we could do the same?"

"What an excellent idea!" They went into the house to find John Hopgood hovering anxiously in the hall. "Miss Frances, are you alright?" He came up to her, ignoring Lord Carleton for the minute.

"I am fine, John, in fact," she glanced at Carleton, "You can be the first to congratulate us, we are betrothed."

He gasped then looked sideways at the other man, "You've told him the truth? About how we have lived since you were born?"

Frances nodded and looked from one man to the other, "He knows, but so we are all clear, you may tell him again John. I have nothing to hide from him."

Hopgood looked uncomfortable, "I am sorry, Miss Frances, I did not mean to give offence, I just wanted to be sure you both know what you are about. It won't be easy, being a gamester's daughter married to a lord."

"The things most worth having in life are not always easy," Carleton agreed. A noise came from the hall behind them and they all turned as one. Fanshaw, his valet, was coming sleepily down the hallway, looking as if he had dressed hastily, "My lord?"

"Ah, Fanshaw, there you are," said Carleton smoothly. "Mr Francis has just arrived and will be staying tonight. We have some business to discuss in the study but we won't be long, I'll call you when I am ready to retire." He ushered Hopgood and Frances into the study and closed the door. "I suggest you two travel down to Chatswood tomorrow, the less we are seen here together the better I fancy. I will follow as soon as I have the Special Licence in my hand. Frances and I will be married quietly as soon as we can and then we will announce it officially and confront Lady Murray with a fait accompli."

John was nodding in agreement but Frances looked uncomfortable. "There's just one thing, Richard. Your housekeeper, Mrs Madden, wrote to Lady Murray, telling her that I stayed with you and I would prefer not to see her again if it can be avoided. It was a rather unpleasant letter."

"I feared as much!" exclaimed Carleton angrily. "I told her several times it was not her concern, however I cannot just cast her off, she has been with our family for years." He thought a moment. "I know! I will send her to Theo, I am sure Fanny, his wife, would love to have her help with the children."

"It is not just Mrs Madden, it will be an awkward situation with all your servants," commented Frances uneasily. "They will know me as Peter Francis, how will we explain that we are betrothed? I wish we could just be married straight away, and then it will not be any of their concern how I dress or how we spend our time together."

"You have the right of it I am afraid, let me think for a moment," replied Carleton.

"Tis a pity you cannot be wed at Brasted like your parents, it would be almost like a tradition. The rector seemed a good sort," observed John idly.

"Actually, that is quite a good idea!" enthused Carleton. "It is only about thirty miles from Brasted to Guildford. We could go directly to Brasted, get wed, then go on to Chatswood as a married couple. I wonder if Mrs Pearson would consent to come with us as a chaperone, and be a witness to the marriage? She was your mother's nurse so she has a history with your family and it would add an air of respectability to the affair. What do you think, Frances?"

"I think that sounds an excellent plan, Richard, I do hope she can accompany us."

"I do not think we can do anything else tonight." He glanced at the others. "I am sure we are all tired, come with me and I'll show you to your room, Frances."

"I'll just come up with you, and then I can take your boots down for a polish," said John airily and Carleton exchanged a rueful smile with Frances. They all trooped upstairs to their separate rooms, Carleton determined to be on his best behaviour in any event, whether John was hovering or not; there was going to be enough scandal as it was without the servants thinking he had spent the night with Peter Francis!