Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1 - Louise Allen, Christine Merrill - Страница 20

The following morning Tallie found she had no idea what to do about her moment of self-revelation the night before. She had felt strangely calm afterwards and had simply gone to bed and slept. So far as she was aware she had not dreamed.

The odd calm persisted, but underneath she was disturbed. It was as though she was sleepwalking into danger, watching herself do so and yet unable to wake herself up. Something had to be done about it, of course, she quite realised that. Nick was certainly not in love with her and, even if he were, she was a most unsuitable wife for him.

The odd feeling persisted despite an expedition with Lady Parry to Ackerman’s Repository. Although Tallie already possessed every gown she could ever imagine she would need, Lady Parry wished to get ahead of what she called ‘the others’ by procuring all the latest fashion plates now, so that a refreshed wardrobe could be paraded halfway through the Season.

‘I am certain you will be receiving some offers soon, Tallie dear,’ she remarked complacently as they embarked in the barouche for the Strand.

Tallie was staring absently at a thin individual in an overlarge greatcoat and battered beaver who was lounging against the railings near the house. He looked oddly familiar. She focused on Lady Parry. ‘Offers, ma’am?’

‘Of marriage. You are not sickening for something, are you, Talitha?’

‘No, no … I beg your pardon. Who would offer for me?’ Several gentlemen had appeared to enjoy her company, that was true. There were a number who always sought her out to dance, several who took her driving and more than one who had introduced the subjects of their family, country estates and interests in life into the conversation in a way that she supposed she should have recognised as being somewhat pointed.

Lady Parry rolled her eyes. ‘Making all due allowance for modesty and inexperience—honestly, Tallie! Let me list a few—Mr Runcorn, Sir Jasper Knight, Dr Philpott, Lord Ashwell, the Reverend Mr Lax-ton …’

‘Truly?’ Tallie gazed at her incredulously. ‘But … I had not considered marrying any of them. I simply had not thought of them in that way.’

Lady Parry shook her head at this folly. ‘I will lay any odds you like that at least three of them come up to scratch by the end of the week, so you had better decide what you want to say to them.’

‘No.’

‘No? You want me to speak to them first? They will not necessarily approach me, as they know you are of age and I am not your guardian.’

‘I mean, no, I do not want to marry any of them.’ I want to marry an infuriating man who does not trust me, laughs at me—and for whom I am entirely ineligible as a wife.

‘Oh well, the Season is young yet,’ Kate said philosophically, gathering up her reticule and fur as the carriage began to slow down in the Strand. ‘You are suffering a little from tiredness and nerves, I have no doubt. We must buy some more hats—I find that is always such a tonic.’

Nicholas Stangate awoke feeling decidedly cheerful, a sensation that lasted through a leisurely bath, a careful shave, an excellent breakfast consumed in the comfort of his bedchamber before dressing and two cups of coffee.

It was at the point where the second cup was making its stimulating effects felt that he woke up enough to consider just why he was feeling this good. A moment’s reflection was enough to produce a vertical line between his brows and a decided diminution in his feeling of joie de vivre.

Miss Talitha Grey was proving a serious worry. She might be enchanting to observe on her alarming progress through Society. She might be delicious to kiss and charming company for his aunt … But he was now convinced that if Aunt Kate thought she knew Tallie’s dark secret, she was deceiving herself. One blinding flash of revelation at the Duchess of Hastings’s ball left him suspecting a far more unusual and scandalous secret than any he had imagined. And if he were correct, it could prove both dangerous for Tallie and, at the very least, could cast a blight over Lady Parry’s position as a leading member of Society.

If she had only failed to ‘take'! But Tallie had been an instant success and, if he was not much mistaken, would soon be receiving any number of offers. Had he known it, his list of likely candidates was the same as his aunt’s, but Nick regarded it with considerably less favour.

Knight was a dull dog, Runcorn had a tendency to gamble, the Reverend Laxton was a prosy bore, Dr Philpott was only looking for a wife with money before retreating back to Oxford and his books and Ashwell was … Ashwell was probably perfect for her.

A title, a modest fortune, a nice little estate, bright, pleasant, responsible. Perfect. Nick kicked a boot across the room and contemplated a newly wedded baron storming into Lady Parry’s house to demand why she had allowed him to unwittingly marry a woman with a shameful secret. It had to be stopped.

His aunt was delighted to see him arrive at the dancing-and-card party she was holding that evening, fluttering forward to kiss him on both cheeks. He looked down at her with a smile. ‘You are very fine this evening, my love.’ She put her head on one side and smiled back. ‘What are you up to? You look positively smug.’

‘Nicholas!’ She rapped his wrist with her fan, then cast a swift glance round and whispered, ‘I think Tallie is receiving her first declaration.’

‘What? Who?’

‘Lord Ashwell.’ Lady Parry was positively glowing with pride. ‘For him to come up to scratch so early is a triumph. A much, much better match than I could have hoped for. He is perfect.’

‘Perfect,’ Nick agreed. ‘And where is this romantic interlude taking place?’

‘The conservatory, I believe. He was steering her in that direction just five minutes ago with considerable aplomb.’

We will see about that, Nick thought grimly. With a smile for his aunt he surrendered his place by her side to General Hepton and strode off in the direction of the conservatory.

So early in the evening it was deserted except for one couple virtually concealed behind a large potted palm. Nick advanced cat-like until he could see Lord Ashwell on one knee holding Tallie’s hand, his head bowed as he made his declaration.

Tallie looked up and Nick saw her eyes widen and her chin go up at the sight of him. ‘Go away,’ she mouthed silently over her suitor’s head. If he strode forward now she would know it was no accident that he had stumbled into the middle of the declaration, but a deliberate attempt to break it up.

Inwardly cursing, he forced a look of surprised apology onto his face, mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and silently backed away out of the conservatory and into the reception room it opened onto.

The minutes seemed to drag by. Nick scooped a glass of champagne off a passing tray, agreed vaguely to make up a hand for whist later and bent an apparently attentive ear to the involved story concerning a bet on a curricle race being recounted by Lord Beddenton.

Lord Ashwell emerged from the conservatory so discreetly that Nick almost missed him, but he did not miss the droop of his lordship’s shoulders, nor the lack of a smile on his face. He allowed him to get well clear into the room where the dancing was taking place, excused himself to Beddenton, snared another glass of champagne and made his way into the conservatory.

Tallie was still sitting where he had seen her before, playing with her fan. She tapped it, let its folds pour open, then flicked it closed, only to open it again. He watched her calm face, her air of concentration, wondering at the reserve behind which she could hide her feelings. Hide them most of the time, he corrected himself. Since he had known her she had appeared more transparent, more open. It seemed that either he was learning to read her moods or in some way he provoked her into revealing them.

How long had he been standing there watching her? He realised he had no idea. Long enough to have closed his eyes and repeated faithfully what she was wearing, from the tortoiseshell combs in her high-piled hair to the amber silk slippers just peeping from beneath an over-gown of golden brown lace with a pale yellow under-dress. The mix of golds brought a flash of recollection: a picture of masses of golden-gilt hair, shot through with deeper tones, waving over the bared shoulders and back of that naked goddess in the garret. Heat washed through him as he fought for control.

He must have moved. Tallie’s head came up and she looked directly at him, her face expressionless. She raised one eyebrow smoothly. It seemed she had perfected the trick of it. ‘Good evening, Cousin Nicholas.’

‘Good evening. I apologise for blundering in just now.’

A faint sceptical smile. ‘I doubt if you ever blunder anywhere, my lord.’

‘You rejected him then.’ He made it a statement.

‘You asked him?’ Her voice sharpened.

‘I saw his face.’ Nick strolled forward and took a cast-iron seat at right angles to her. The embossed ferns made an uncomfortable perch.

‘I was sorry to hurt his feelings,’ Tallie said. ‘But I doubt they were deeply engaged. Thank you, no champagne.’ He put down the glass.

‘You think him insincere?’ Nick let his surprise show in his voice.

‘No. Not at all. I am sure he likes me very well and honestly believes that we would make a good match.’

‘Then what is there to dislike?’ It was suddenly important to know. ‘He has breeding, a fortune, intelligence. He is kind …’

‘Is that what you look for in marriage?’ She swung round suddenly. It took an effort of will not to lean back away from her vehemence. ‘Breeding, money, intelligence? Kindness?’

‘Why, yes, they all seem admirable qualities.’ Why was he on the defensive? Why was it his feelings that were the focus of attention now? She had just defined exactly what he had always felt he needed in a wife.

‘You would settle for so little?’ Tallie sounded genuinely curious.

‘Little? It seems to me all one could want.’ Suddenly he was not so certain. Her intensity seemed to slash open a hole in his philosophy. A void that ached. ‘What do you look for?’

‘Love, of course.’ She stood, brushing against a jasmine in a pot and releasing a cloud of perfume from its early flowers, forced by the heat. ‘I look for nothing more. I would settle for nothing less.’

‘You could end up a spinster,’ Nick said harshly, getting to his feet.

‘Better that than compromise,’ Tallie said calmly. ‘Better that than mediocrity. And it is all I have ever expected, in any case.’

Something inside Tallie, some separate part of her that seemed to be watching the rest of her from a distance, registered surprise that she could regard Nicholas Stangate with such an appearance of calm. She was, after all, confronting the man she had only just realised she loved.

Tallie wondered if she had angered him, or even perhaps hurt him by attacking his views on what he would consider a suitable marriage. His grey eyes glittered like the interior of a newly split flint and there was colour on his high cheekbones.

‘May I escort you back to the dancing, or were you expecting any other gentlemen?’

‘No, not just now, thank you. I will have to go out and see if there are any I can lure in here,’ she retorted, feeling the colour rise in her own cheeks. ‘Aunt Kate tells me there are at least two more from whom I should expect a declaration within the next few days.’

A dark brow rose. ‘Tut, tut, Tallie, a lady does not boast of her conquests.’

Tallie stood up in a swirl of tawny silk and lace. ‘A gentleman would not provoke her into doing so.’ She took a step forward, but Nick did not yield ground to her and she found herself standing almost on his toes.

His eyes dropped from the challenge in hers to linger appreciatively on the white slope of her breast and shoulders revealed by the low neckline of the gown. The single heavy diamond pendant lying where the valley between her breasts began was moving in tune with her heightened breathing.

‘That is a very fine stone. Have your admirers been showering you with diamonds?’

‘Aunt Kate has kindly lent it to me, as she has all the jewellery I wear. I possess none of my own.’

‘We must hope your admirers will make you some suitable presents.’

‘I have told you: I do not wish to be on such terms with any of them that gifts of jewellery would be eligible.’ It was becoming difficult to breath. The conservatory was really quite stuffy and the scent of the jasmine so close was positively overpowering.

‘Look how it reflects the light.’ He appeared to be taking no notice of what she said. He was still watching the many-faceted stone and the scintillation of light as it moved. ‘Is it your heart that is making it jump and tremble so, Tallie?’

Before she could reply he raised his right hand and laid it gently, palm to skin against the curve of her breast between her collarbone and the neckline of her dress. Tallie started and stepped back, but his other hand came round to gather her to him and she was trapped, one palm at her breast, the other flat on her shoulder blade. ‘Your heart is beating like a drum.’

Tallie made herself stand still, certain he was about to kiss her, telling herself that when he did he would have to move his hand and she could slip under it and away, knowing that she would do no such thing.

But instead of bending his head to take her lips Nick continued to hold her eyes with his while the thumb of the hand lying on her breast began to move slowly, insidiously stroking the skin just under the edge of her gown. She gasped, tried to make her legs move, but all that happened was that her eyes fluttered closed as the skilful caress slipped under the neckline.

She had been doubtful about the gown: the edge of the fabric was only an inch above the aureole of her nipples, but once she had tried it on she was reassured that the cut and fit were so good that there was absolutely no need to fear that sudden movement or bending would cause the gown to gape or shift embarrassingly.

But neither she nor the dressmaker had planned for seductive fingers. The ball of Nick’s thumb found the puckered skin, then the bud of the nipple, and began to tease it. Tallie moaned deep in her throat, arching into his hand. Her breasts felt heavy, swollen. The sensation seemed to shaft through her. Her lips opened.

There was the sound of footsteps, a man’s voice said playfully, ‘Now where are you hiding, Miss Grey?’ and then broke off abruptly. ‘I do apologise, er … I will …’ It was Sir Jasper Knight.

As the sound of hasty retreat faded, Tallie felt Nick’s hand lift from her breast and his other hand release her. She opened her eyes slowly, knowing that anger on her part was completely unjustified. She could have stopped him at any time—but how could she face him now?

In the event he made it extremely easy for her. ‘Oh well,’ he said lightly, ‘that’s the second one routed.’

Tallie set her lips, drew back her hand and slapped Nick across the face with all the force she could muster. He made no move to avoid the blow, which rocked him back on his heels.

There was a long, difficult silence. Nick regarded her with eyes that held an uncomfortable mixture of rueful apology and still smouldering desire. His left cheek bore the mark of her hand as graphically as if she had drawn it. Tallie knew she must be scarlet. Her lips felt swollen, although his had not touched them. Her nipples pressed against the silk lining of her gown, a humiliating reminder of her own arousal.

‘Drink this.’ Nick held out the neglected champagne glass. ‘Then you had better go out—I suspect I show more evidence of this encounter than you do.’

Tallie gulped the wine desperately. There was a fountain in the corner: she dipped her handkerchief in it and dabbed her cheeks and temples.

‘Tallie! Tallie dear, are you still here?’ It was Lady Parry.

‘Oh, God!’ Nick swung round on his heel, but she was between him and the door. He stepped behind the potted palm as his aunt emerged into sight.

‘There you are, dear. Whatever is going on? I saw Lord Ashwell come out looking most disconsolate, and then in came Sir Jasper—and came straight out again.’

‘I did tell you that I did not want to marry either of them, did I not, Aunt Kate?’ Tallie said, keeping her voice light as she stepped towards Lady Parry. She took her chaperon’s arm and steered her firmly back towards the reception rooms. ‘I just feel rather flustered. The encounters were rather difficult, you understand.’ She did not look back. It felt as though Nick’s eyes were burning through the back of her gown.

The next morning Tallie awaited Nick’s arrival in Bruton Street with a sort of paralysed calm. She was quite certain he would come, for it would take a sangfroid even beyond what she believed he possessed to pretend that that encounter in the conservatory had not taken place.

He arrived at ten-thirty, which gave her time both to perfect what she was going to say and to develop a fine flock of butterflies in her stomach. Was he really going to believe that it was simply unmaidenly physical attraction that made her react the way she did in his arms or could he have any suspicion of the way she felt about him?

He arrived looking immaculate in cream pantaloons, Hessian boots and a tailcoat of darkest blue. He also looked infuriatingly cool and calm, not even a touch of colour staining his cheekbones as he was ushered by Rainbird into the drawing room. Tallie had no fear that the butler would hasten off to find her a chaperon; Lord Arndale was regarded as a son of the house.

He regarded her from a strategic position by the fireplace, one boot on the fender, a hand on the mantelshelf. She had not asked him to sit down which she now realised was a tactical error—he had the advantage of height.

‘Good morning, Cousin Nicholas,’ she said composedly.

‘Good morning, Talitha.’ So far, so good. ‘Last night we—’

Tallie smiled and interrupted him. ‘Last night we succumbed to a rather unfortunate physical attraction. I am sure it will not happen again.’

She was interested to see that he had not expected any such reaction from her. ‘Are you? Well, I’ll be damned.’

‘Very likely, Cousin Nicholas, but I would be obliged if you would moderate your language.’

He ignored this crushing reproof. ‘Physical attraction? Is that what you call it?’

‘What would you call it?’ Tallie asked. This was dangerous ground indeed.

‘The same, but I hardly expected an unmarried girl to do so.’ His expression was grim.

‘Indeed?’ Tallie got up and stalked towards the door. ‘Well, my lord, I am not a girl, I am five and twenty, and I prefer the truth without hypocrisy. I have doubtless acted very imprudently, shockingly and in a downright unmaidenly manner. However, it was an interesting experience, which we can now forget all about.’ She smiled sweetly and opened the door. ‘It was most intriguing to see what all the fuss is about.’ Nick took a long stride towards her, a noise alarmingly like a mastiff growling emanating from his throat.

Tallie, who was beginning to think she had gone somewhat too far in her efforts to disabuse him of the slightest suspicion of how she truly felt, was relieved to see Lady Parry in the hall.

‘Ah, there you are, dear, I was looking for you. Nicholas! Excellent, would you care to accompany us to Mr Harland’s studio?’