Perfect June sunshine shone down on the gathering and the medieval woodland beyond the ha-ha. Beatrice saw there was an abundance of orchids, so at least one of her requests had been granted. It had become fashionable for wealthy collectors to employ orchid hunters to travel the world, and Beatrice had witnessed the most absurd scenes in London auction houses, with people paying a fortune for a single bloom. Despite the mania for them, she had always thought orchids rather dull – they could not begin to compare with the beauty and fascination of a mushroom, to say nothing of all she had seen in the Winter Garden – but after leaving the employ of Half Moon House, James Sheppard had made a name for himself as an orchid hunter, and Beatrice liked the idea of putting some business his way.

She hadn’t seen him since he had handed in his notice as their head gardener seven years ago. An action she had not approved of, but it had not been her place to object. Still, she had kept abreast of his exploits in Curtis’s Magazine. Orchid hunting was a dangerous profession – the article she had read earlier was not the worst she had heard, by far. When they weren’t feuding with one another, these men regularly met their demise through drowning, fever, wild animals, treacherous terrain, tropical diseases or local brigands.

She turned her attention to the guests. Many of them were people she’d never seen or heard of, but she knew that a couple of members of the Royal Family were expected. Eustace looked as carefree and comfortable as ever, standing with his best man. They both wore top hats and matching frock coats in a fashionable shade of claret. Eustace was tall and handsome, with his perfectly straight back, ash-blond hair and neatly trimmed beard, but Beatrice realised her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

Her mind snagged once again on the thorny fact that, if she married Eustace, Half Moon House and everything in it would legally become his. She’d not been permitted any involvement in the marriage settlement, but she’d seen the terms when she’d gone through her father’s desk after his death. Now that Beatrice was an heiress, Eustace would get everything, including the house.

No, she thought, with sudden conviction. This will not happen.

She found she was smiling without realising it.

‘Don’t grin like that, dear,’ Aunt Emily chided. ‘Remember, nature gave us lips to conceal our teeth.’

‘Nature gave us lips to s-speak,’ Beatrice replied. ‘The wedding. Is. Cancelled.’

She was delighted that, for once, she managed to get her words out almost without stammering at all.

Aunt Emily glanced at the maids. ‘Thank you, that will be all,’ she said, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. ‘You may take your place outside with the other guests.’

The maids filed out obediently, and Aunt Emily turned back to Beatrice.