Louise Allen - Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1

‘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.’