‘I say,’ George Caxton said, running his finger across his top lip. ‘You scrub up all right.’

His breath stank of whisky. Sir Charles’ good malt, no doubt.

Lou tried to step past him, but he used his physical bulk to block her. He snatched her dance card.

‘Good God,’ he laughed harshly. ‘You unfortunate wretch. A single dance and with Mandeville. Well, we’ll soon sort that out.’ He took a pencil from his pocket and twisted the end to propel the lead. Before he could scrawl his name, Lou whipped her hand away, leaving his pencil to jab the air.

‘Well, well, well.’ He grinned, returning his pencil to his pocket. ‘Looks like I have a feisty filly on my hands. And you know what I do with a disobedient horse, don’t you?’ He leant in closer. ‘I break her.’

Lou was on the potter’s wheel again, thrown off centre, spinning around and around. The walls began to sag, threatening to collapse in on themselves. What if, after all, she hadn’t done enough to push Tom into Emma’s arms? It was possible that he was stubborn enough to resist. If something happened to him, Charlotte would be left exposed and vulnerable to this man who was beyond kindness and mercy of any sort. A man so intent on exacting revenge that he would resort to murder. Again. She had to act and act now.

It made her skin crawl, but she touched George Caxton’s hand. ‘I don’t want to dance,’ she said, hoping to mimic Emma’s flirtatious purr. ‘Why don’t we go somewhere a little more … private?’

George’s eyes slid over her body. It felt as if someone was running a dirty floor cloth across her naked flesh. It was a price worth paying if George fell for her amateur attempt at seduction.

George grabbed her wrist. ‘Your room or mine?’

‘Neither,’ she purred again. This game was dangerous enough without going anywhere alone with him. She parted the curtains at one of the doors that led out to the garden. George followed her into the small bay. The curtains closed, plunging them into semi-darkness.

‘I know your sort,’ George said, his voice low. ‘You like the excitement of getting caught, don’t you? All that guff about votes for women, when what you really want is a seeing to by a real man.’

He grabbed her, but she pushed him away. ‘Not so fast.’

He smirked, and she tried to ignore his tongue flicking to lick the corner of his mouth.

‘Going to make me work for it, hey?’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have put you down as that sort of girl. But I warn you, I like the thrill of the chase, and I always get my quarry.’

The stench of his breath filled her nostrils so that she could almost taste it. She swallowed. She was going to do this. She was really going to do this. ‘I know what else you like,’ she said, running her finger down his lapel.