Scarcely able to breathe from nerves, Lily tried to gather her courage as Betsy helped adjust the heavy lace veil over her face. Her own hand trembled as she fixed by pinning it with a pearl hair ornament, a wedding gift from her cousin.

"I can't take that, it must be valuable. Aunt Maud will notice it's missing," Lily protested.

"She won't. She'll think I wore it, remember?"

They stood back to review the finished ensemble. Lily felt like a white ghost and was sure her face was even paler than her gown.

"You look lovely," Betsy told her. "The gown fits you perfectly, it suits your figure much better than mine." She could afford to be generous now that her younger cousin was relieving her of this terrible fate.

Lily's head was in such a spin that she barely gave a thought to how the gown looked or felt. But with the veil to disguise her face, they might just get away with this. It wouldn't deceive anyone who saw the two cousins side by side, but were the servants to glimpse Lily by herself they might be satisfied that she was Betsy.

"What will you do?" Lily asked Betsy. "They'll expect you to attend me."

"I'll stay quietly up here. You can mention to John that I - that Lily - is unwell and wishes to be undisturbed. He's so hard of hearing that he won't recognise it's the wrong voice behind the veil."

John was Sir Robert's steward, an aged retainer who had managed the other servants and household for many years. He was a kindly old fellow, assiduous in his duties, and Lily hated to deceive him.

But needs must. Feeling very alone, she made her way down the staircase and crossed towards the chapel. The house was cold and draughty: fewer fires were lit when Sir Robert and Lady Maud were away.

John met her and bowed. "Miss Elizabeth." He had always seemed the least censorious of Betsy's dishonour, his eyes saddened rather than scandalised when she had returned home in disgrace. He had known her since infancy: were it not for the uncrossable boundaries between family and servant, he might nearly have been a kindly great-uncle.

He had shown kindness to Lily too when she had first arrived there, grieving her father and missing her home, and assailed with constant, pointed reminders of her uncle's charity in taking her.

"Your cousin is not with you?"

Lily mumbled the untruth about a severe headache. It was unsettlng to be lying about herself.

John paused for a moment. His white hair had grown sparse but he still stood upright and kept his black uniform as impeccably smart as possible. "It's not my place, Miss Elizabeth, but..."

He seemed to waver and then straightened, extending his arm. "I can't have you walk up there alone. Let them say what they will."

It was the most defiant he had ever been, but this was the last time he would probably ever see his young mistress. Lily felt a pang of guilt that it was he wrong young woman that he offered to escort.

Gratefully she took his arm and they stepped together into the chill of the chapel. The altar at the far end glowed softly with candles. There were no flowers.

Lily kept her head bowed, hardly daring to look up. She had suddenly realised that she might have to lift the veil up at some point and what then? John would doubltess see, what would he do?

For now she had to brazen it out.

It was only a small chapel but the walk up the aisle seemed the longest ever. Reaching the altar Lily looked up to see a tall, dark figure there.

He turned to her and she suppressed a gasp, thinking for a moment it was the wrong man.

He wasn't elderly - he was perhaps thirty-five at most, she guessed - and his dark, chiselled features were set in a rigid fury. He nodded abruptly to her, more an acknowledgement of her presence than any form of greeting.

Lily was so terrified that she closed her eyes as the curate read the solemn words. She and the tall man were both facing him, but Lily's mind wandered from the Book of Common Prayer and she looked up at the profile of the stranger who was about to vow matrimony to her.

She was both relieved and troubled that he was so much younger than they had imagined. Troubled because perhaps if Betsy saw this man, she might not be opposed to marriage with him as a respectable future. Lily agonised over whether she should speak up and perhaps fetch her cousin. It would cause shock and outrage to reveal the deception now, but far less, perhaps, than a month hence with the marriage irrevocable. For the truth would be revealed eventually.

Troubled, also, because her secret hope had been than an elderly husband might be less inclined to require of her those duties that older women alluded to in hushed remarks. But this man was clearly... virile. If only Betsy could have given her better advice about those duties.

As if he sensed her gaze on him the man turned slightly to her and Lily quickly lowered her eyes again. Not that he could see where she was looking through the dissembling lacework.

"I, Gervase Revelston Dainard, take thee, Elizabeth Ann Cosgrove..."

His voice startled her. It was deep and eloquent. He might be angry but his tone was measured, perhaps in recognition of the solemnity of the vows.

Given the set of his jaw and the muscle that clenched in his cheek, Lily had expected him to speak with an icy fury. But he spoke with resolve, not anger.

All too soon it was her own turn. She tried to keep her voice steady. "...to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth." Her voice broke on the last words but she held her head up and did her best.

Now a ring was slipped onto her finger and a strong, warm hand took hers. Having imagined a thin, elderly claw with papery skin - or worse, something soft and clammy like that of Aunt Maud's unpleasant brother - this grasp was a comfort. Lily's own fingers felt ice cold but she returned the grip with a gentle firmness.

Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.

The rest of the curate's words passed in a blur, until the words "Man and Wife". It was done. It was too late to confess now, to change her mind, to run away.

Old John, satisfied that Elizabeth was now passed properly into her husband's care, bowed to them both and departed. Lily felt loss and relief. Her last friend was gone, even though he had not known who she was, but at least he could not now expose her.

"Now we are Man and Wife there can be no need for this curtain between us." The voice was dry, the tone deep and masculine as before. Lily started as the Marquess lifted her veil and looked upon her for the first time.

Something momentarily flared in his eyes and for a second Lily was terrified that he had realised her deception. But how could he? He had never met either of them, nor seen their portraits. Lily might have dark golden hair where Betsy's was a light brown, but both girls would have been described as "fair" if anyone had been asked about their appearance.

"Dark" was a term used for the colouring of this man who now stood before her. With her lace removed and a candle shining more directly on his face since he had stepped towards her, Lily could see him clearly.

His hair was jet black with no streak yet of grey, likewise his brows, and his eyes were the colour of stormy skies. Lily was of a good height for a young woman but he towered over her. His dress was immaculate: his coat of a flawless cut that accentuated broad shoulders tapering to lean hips.

Surely Betsy would have admired this man, or come to admire him? Her Tom could not have been so very much better looking than this? Lily had rarely been in the society of men outside her family but she was quite certain that this man would be considered extremely handsome.

This man. Her husband. She had to start thinking of him as that.

"Madam."

Realising she had forgotten herself and was staring, Lily quickly lowered her head and curtseyed. "My lord".

"I do not require that of you, now that you are my wife. An address will suffice."

Confused, Lily nodded.

"We make for Westford Park tonight. If the servants have arranged your things, we leave immediately."

Lily had hoped - expected - to return upstairs and farewell Betsy. But the trunk that she had packed was already in the hall. Having let down her veil once more on leaving the chapel she accepted the congratulations and well wishes of John and the housekeeper, and was escorted by her new husband into his carriage.

She was utterly alone, utterly friendless. Lily was glad of the privacy of her veil. It hid the tears that welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks as she farewelled her uncle's house and her girlhood.

Everyone she had ever known and loved had been taken from her. The man at her side was a stranger - even a hostile stranger, from the way his gaze had narrowed as he looked at her. The reluctant bridegroom, only to become more furious if and when he discovered his impostor bride.

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