Juliet Landon - Regency Rumours

His response, when it came, made her blush. ‘That, my lady, would be to gild the lily.’

The glow was still in place when they next met to go down the set, hand in hand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It would shock you as much as the rest of them.’

‘I am learning enough about you to be neither shocked nor surprised.’ Ducking under the arch of hands, they parted to return to the top of the set, and his meaning was not made clear to her, as the dance steps forbade anything more than the odd word in passing. Then it became more than a holding of hands and a linking of arms, but a series of more recent dance moves where she was entwined and turned by him, where arms were placed across waists with hands clasped above, where there was a closer contact than ever with him looking down at her as if they were alone, and this but a prelude to something even more intimate.

She felt the firm pressure of his hands upon her shoulders and knew that her own hands were resting on hard muscle that could have lifted her clean off the floor with little effort, and that dance was what epitomised the manly qualities of self-confidence, support and…yes, captivation. What use was there in denying it?

Taking her hand again, he led her away. ‘I shall re-introduce Mrs Oglethorpe and her mousey daughter to you,’ he said. ‘She may not leave her card until you do, so now I shall remove both your excuses.’

‘I’d much rather you did not,’ Amelie said, releasing herself. ‘I prefer to choose my own friends.’

‘You must know you cannot do that in this business, my lady.’

‘In what business, sir?’

‘In society. For your niece’s sake, you need all the contacts you can get, as long as they’re respectable. It won’t cost anything to know who they are.’

But there he was mistaken, for it cost Amelie not a little in hurtful remarks that she felt could not possibly be unintentional, some to her face, others overheard. ‘Ah, from the north,’ said the hard-faced Mrs Oglethorpe, not knowing Derbyshire from the Outer Hebrides. ‘Is that not where they fix the heads of stags all round the halls? And do they still use the furs on their beds?’

‘You seem to know more about that than I do, Mrs Ogel-thorpe,’ said Amelie, tiring of such nonsense. ‘Did your coachman manage to get your horses under control, by the way? I always send my men to Tattersalls, you know. Costs are higher, but I prefer that to local dealers. Don’t you?’

Then there was the barely concealed remark concerning Lord Elyot, which, for different reasons, Amelie would rather not have heard. ‘Well, my dear, with a reputation like his, you know where she’ll be heading, don’t you? Heartbreak, almost certainly. Two mistresses that I know of and plenty more that I don’t. His brother is just as bad, I believe.’

Amelie concluded her dance with a charming red-coated army officer who returned her to Lord Elyot, who knew him. ‘Where is Caterina?’ she said. ‘Perhaps we should be thinking of leaving soon.’

‘What is it?’ he said.

‘Oh…nothing. But it’s time we—’

‘You’ve heard something. I can see by your face.’

‘No…really…I…’ she looked round for Caterina, but now there was a general movement towards the supper room and there she was, with Lord Rayne and a group of young people heading for the refreshments, chattering and laughing, oblivious to her aunt’s concern.

‘She’s perfectly safe,’ said Lord Elyot. ‘You surely cannot take her away from that because of some idle gossip, can you? Isn’t this what you wanted for her? Is it not worth a little discomfort? Here, come with me.’ Threading her hand through his arm, he led her through large glass doors that opened on to a long verandah on the northern side of the inn that looked out over a large torchlit garden. Steps led down to wide terraces, the lowest one to the Thames where boats were tied, rocking on dark-mirrored water. Couples sauntered round huge stone flower-filled pedestals or sat on benches drinking and eating, and on one of these he bade her sit and wait while he went to find food.

In admiration, she watched his tall lithe figure stride away, stopping to speak to two officers who had partnered her. As if they had been waiting for permission, they kept her company with their gallantry until he returned with a servant then, bowing politely, left her alone with him.

‘If you hope to get through the evening at the same pace, my lady, you’re going to have to eat something. The tea may be lukewarm, but—’

‘It’s very good. Thank you.’

‘You’re not still thinking of leaving, surely? You will disappoint a great many admirers if you do.’

Notes of high-pitched laughter floated through the darkness, followed by the deeper men’s tones. ‘Is she.?’

‘Miss Chester is in safe hands. Why? What is it you’ve heard?’

‘Oh, the usual kind of thing. I suppose there must be some truth in it, my lord.’

‘About Seton, or me?’

‘Both.’

‘Well, then, it’s probably true unless you’ve heard that we eat live eels, or some such thing. That’s not true. But one would hardly expect two men of our age to have lived a celibate existence, surely?’ He waited for a response, then asked, ‘Does it matter to you?’

She might have returned some flippant and meaningless answer, but again his eyes demanded that she stop to think before she spoke. It did matter to her, so much so that she felt something rage inside her at the thought of him being intimate with other women, speaking tenderly to them, looking at them the way he’d looked at her all evening. Watching him dance while trying not to be observed, she had scolded herself for her prying unnatural curiosity. Now, he was asking her if she cared, and if it mattered that she cared.

‘Does it?’ he insisted, gently.

‘No…no, of course not,’ she said, looking away. ‘Why should it?’

‘Look at me and say that.’

Nettled, she kept her face averted, unable to lie so blatantly. ‘I made a mistake about Lady Sheen…the Marchioness…I’m afraid I may have…well, put my foot in it. Please accept my apologies, my lord.’

‘None are necessary. She’ll never hear of it. She’s still in town or I suppose she’d have been here tonight. But perhaps it’s as well that she’s not or we’d not be dancing Irish jigs and Scottish reels, I can tell you. She’s a stickler for propriety.’

‘Are you saying she would not approve of me, my lord?’

‘I have never been influenced by my parents’ approval or disapproval of my friends, Lady Chester. Nor has Seton.’

‘Thank you. That is a great comfort to me.’

Tipping his head sideways, he studied her expression in the dim light. ‘I could make myself much plainer, if you wish it.’

‘No, sir. I think you will find that our friendship will die a natural death quite soon without any help from the family.’

‘You suggested something similar once before. Are there more skeletons in the cupboard, then?’

Her smile was rueful. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Shall we go in? I can hear the musicians tuning up. Do you have a partner for “The Shrewsbury Lasses"?’

‘No. I shall be watching you instead.’

Climbing the damp stone steps towards a blaze of chandeliers whilst holding up a long gown caused more than one lady to slip and others to cling like crabs to their partners. Amelie did neither. Laying her arm along Lord Elyot’s, she experienced the rock-solid hardness and the firm grasp of his fingers under hers, receiving smiles for the first time as she entered the ballroom, some of them from women.

Not quite believing that he would watch her dance, she glanced every now and again to see if he meant what he had said. And since he did, every one of her looks was intercepted. But now she made a point of observing Caterina and Lord Rayne more closely, for although there would always be talk about the morals of handsome men, her thoughts on the matter were less than charitable where these two were concerned. Still, she had found a certain comfort in learning that their mother, at least, had high standards.