Louise Allen - Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1

‘I can make some recommendations to start you off,’ Tallie offered. ‘Soon you will make your own reputation. And, Millie, I had been wondering what present I could make you—may I employ a chaperon for your first year?’

They dropped an ecstatic Millie off at Wimpole Street. Nick waited until he saw the front door close behind her, then rapped on the roof of the carriage with his cane. As the wheels began to turn, he said, ‘Well?’

‘I had no idea he would be there,’ Tallie said defensively. ‘I had no idea they would let any men into the dressing-room at all. I only went because Millie forgot her purse.’

‘I know. I went to collect you from Mrs Blackstock’s and she told me where you were.’

‘Oh. I thought …’

‘You thought I had gone to the Opera House on much the same errand as Hemsley, did you not?’

‘I did not know what to think, only that I was very glad to see you!’ Now was not the time to throw his familiarity with backstage in his face. Tallie searched round for another means of attack. ‘Collecting me alone in a closed carriage is somewhat unconventional is it not?’

‘We are in a closed carriage now, as you can observe. You may also have noticed that I am able to restrain my carnal appetites. If you can refrain from lowering the window and crying “rape”, I think we can brush through the experience without having to resort to wedlock.’

Tallie reviewed a number of possible responses to this, including throwing herself into his arms, slapping his face or insisting on him stopping the carriage and getting out. None of these would approach his own standard of infuriatingly cool indifference and she badly wanted to surprise him. ‘Well, that is a relief,’ she said warmly.

Tallie had intended to provoke him, but she was not prepared for his reaction. Nick tipped back his head and laughed. He laughed without any restraint, a genuine, uninhibited roar of amusement, crinkling his eyes shut, stretching the long tendons of his neck as he threw his head back, removing every trace of constraint and control from his face.

She stared, torn between fury at being laughed at and fascination at the transformation. The carriage slowed, then stopped outside the Bruton Street house. Nick mopped his streaming eyes and regarded Tallie with a grin.

‘Tallie, you are enchanting.’ He leaned forward and planted a brotherly kiss on her cheek as the groom came to open the carriage door for her. ‘Now in with you or Aunt Kate will be worrying.’

The groom might be standing there pretending to be invisible with an expression of well-trained indifference on his face, but his presence effectively silenced any retort that Tallie might have made. Always supposing she was able to think of one.

‘Goodnight, my lord,’ she said with a chilly formality that provoked an equally formal half-bow, marred somewhat by the fact Nick’s shoulders were still shaking. Tallie swept up to the front door without a backward glance and was relieved that Rainbird was already opening it.

‘Good evening, Rainbird,’ she said brightly. ‘Is Lady Parry in?’

‘She retired early, Miss Grey. May I get you anything?’

‘No, thank you, Rainbird. I will retire too—could you send my maid up?’

The minute she was in her room Tallie regretted that last request. Now she had to act with calm and dignity while Susan helped her undress, unpinned her hair, put away her jewellery. What she wanted to do was find another cushion and beat the stuffing out of it.

Instead she sat in her wrapper while Susan plied the hairbrush and calmed herself by mentally listing all Nicholas Stangate’s numerous faults. He is cool, he is manipulative, he is domineering, overbearing and suspicious, he kisses innocent young women, he makes me lose my temper and my self-control. That was a satisfyingly long list.

Tallie bit her lip and decided in all fairness she should catalogue the few—very few—virtues Nick possessed. He loves his aunt and looks after William with a great deal of tact. He rescued me from Jack Hemsley twice. He behaved with chivalry when he found me in the attic. He is highly intelligent. He has a sense of humour. He looks … He is very handsome. When he kisses me I want to … I want him never to stop. He makes me lose my temper because … because …

Her thoughts stumbled to a halt. ‘Thank you, Susan, that will do. I do not require you any further tonight.’

The fire flickered and crackled in the grate, hypnotically drawing her eye. Tallie gazed at the flames and let her mind go free. Why did Nick crack right through her painfully acquired poise, her calm common sense?

‘Because I love him,’ she said out loud to the room. ‘Because I love him. ‘

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.