Louise Allen - Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1

‘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.