Louise Allen - Scandal in the Regency Ballroom - No Place For a Lady / Not Quite a Lady

The front door opened to reveal the Mallorys’ one footman who doubled as Piers’s valet. ‘Peters, please pay the driver and fetch in the luggage. This is Miss Thorpe, who will be living here from now on. She will be having the blue bedroom.

‘We employ Peters, a cook, Mrs Harris—a general maid—and an upstairs maid who will be looking after both of us now.’ Bree urged Rosa in front of her into the hall and looked at the salver lying on the console table. It contained a number of calling cards and several envelopes. Bree flipped through the cards confidently. ‘Mr Latymer, Lord Lansdowne, Mr Trenchard. Trenchard? Oh, yes, third country dance. Lady Lucas.’ There was nothing with Max’s crest.

‘Peters?’

‘Yes, Miss Mallory?’

‘Did the gentleman who just called not leave a card?’

‘No gentleman has called since eleven o’clock, Miss Mallory. There was a regular flurry of callers this morning, but no one yet this afternoon.’

‘How very odd.’ And how very … Bree searched for the right word to describe her emotions. How very flattening. Max had obviously intended to call and then thought better of it on the very doorstep. But why? She led Rosa upstairs, talking brightly about the household and pointing out the various rooms as they went, her mind almost entirely on Max and his motives.

Had he taken her in disgust when he reviewed the events of last night in the cold light of day? It would be hypocritical of him if he did, but then, that was the way of the world. Men expected to take their pleasures and keep their respectability. The women involved immediately lost theirs.

Did he think her pert and forward, or completely wanton? Her stomach churned uncomfortably and suddenly she felt quite ill with mortification. Last night it had seemed natural to respond to his advances, natural to return his kisses with what small instinctive skill she had. Max had not treated her with disrespect; she had seen no cynical gleam in his eyes.

Which made it worse, in a way. Thinking back, recalling with a blush just how she had responded to him, he must have taken a disgust of her behaviour. Or she was wrong about him and he was actually a rake, bent on her seduction after all—but why, then, would he not call? No, she could not be that wrong about him. But what do I know about men? It was a mystery, and a very unsettling one.

‘Here is your room.’ She threw open the door to the third bedroom. ‘It looks out at the back, so it is very quiet.’ Bree sat down on the edge of the bed and bounced a little. ‘Yes, the bed seems to be all right. Now, what else can we do to make you more comfortable? There is an easy chair, and a dressing table and stool, and I think the wardrobe will be large enough.’

She got up and went to open the clothes press, trying to force her muddled brain to think of practical matters. ‘Good, I think that will do. Would you like a small table and chair for a desk? There isn’t much room in here, and, of course, we hope you will feel absolutely free to join us in the drawing room at any time, but you might like privacy for letter writing and so on.’

‘It looks—’ Rosa swallowed hard and blinked ‘—it is lovely. It is such a luxury to have a pretty, well-furnished room again. I became used to it when I was running the school, but as a governess one soon learns one’s place—which is in whatever spare room it is least inconvenient to put one.’

‘That’s horrid.’ Bree smiled with a warmth that came hard, given that she was feeling so queasy. ‘We both want you to feel at home here.’

‘Your brother has not met me yet,’ Rosa said cautiously.

‘Piers will like you,’ Bree said confidently. ‘He is living in dread that I am going to bring home a starched-up widow who will make him take his feet off the furniture, mind his tongue at all times and button his waistcoat in the house.’

Peters arrived at the door and dumped the first of Rosa’s bags on the floor. ‘I’ll fetch up the rest directly, Miss Mallory. What about the shopping?’

‘Bring that up here too, and send Lucy to help Miss Thorpe unpack.’ She turned to Rosa as the man clattered off down the stairs again. ‘If you sort out the bits and pieces I brought for myself, Lucy will bring them along. You must treat her as your maid as well as mine. She will fetch you hot water, light your fire and so forth.’

She broke off at the sound of the knocker. ‘I wonder who that is.’ Leaning over the banisters, she could hear Peters below.

‘I am sorry, my lord, I do not know if Miss Mallory is at home. Would you care to step into the drawing room whilst I ascertain if she is receiving?’

From her perch, hanging over the second-floor banisters, Bree had a bird’s eye view of the hall and the tops of Peters’s sandy head and the oval of a fashionable tall hat. The hat was doffed and handed to the footman along with gloves.

‘Who is it?’ Rosa came to her side.

The bared head below was unmistakably that of Max Dysart. Her complaining stomach performed another uncomfortable twist and Bree clutched the polished wood. ‘Lord Penrith.’ So why has he come back?

Peters was toiling up the stairs again, a silver salver in his hand. ‘Lord Penrith, Miss Mallory.’ He proffered the salver, the neat rectangle of pasteboard lying dead centre. ‘Are you at home?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bree said blankly. ‘I really do not know.’

Peters, unused to such a response, gaped at her. ‘Go down to the hall and wait a moment,’ Rosa said firmly, taking control. The footman obediently began to descend again. ‘What is wrong?’ She took Bree’s arm and guided her back into the bedroom. ‘Do you not wish to see this man? I can go down and tell him you are resting or some such excuse.’

That was so tempting. Bree bit her lip, then decided that honesty was the only policy with her new companion. ‘He kissed me last night, and then, later, I was out alone on the terrace with him. Now I am afraid he will think me very fast and will either be here under the mistaken assumption that I will permit liberties, or he considers me wanton and has decided he no longer wishes to have anything to do with me.’

‘Why would he be here in that case?’

‘Because he promised to help me with the Whips, and now perhaps he feels he does not care to.’

‘Hmm.’ Rosa pursed her lips. ‘I think there is nothing to be gained by putting off the encounter. I will come down too. If he is a rake bent upon your seduction, my presence should serve to warn him off, and if he is hypocrite enough to despise you for a few innocent kisses, then he should be chastened by seeing you have taken his advice and have a companion.’

She whipped off her bonnet and stooped to check her reflection in the mirror. ‘My goodness, I shall be pleased to get out of this hideous gown, but it certainly makes me look a dour chaperon.’

Bree managed a shaky smile. ‘Come along, then. Let us put my reputation to the test.’

‘Lord Penrith. Good afternoon.’ Bree was proud of her calm tone. ‘May I introduce Miss Thorpe, my lady companion? Miss Thorpe, Lord Penrith, who was so good as to assist when we found ourselves with a driverless coach.’

She studied him as he shook hands with Rosa. He seemed the same and yet, somehow, different. What was it? Bree puzzled and then stopped as she realised he was waiting while the ladies took their seats. ‘Do sit down, my lord. Would you care to take tea?’

‘Thank you, yes, I would.’

Rosa bobbed up and tugged the bell pull, then sat quietly while Bree spoke to Peters.

‘You see, my lord, I took your advice and engaged a companion,’ Bree said, attempting a rallying tone. It was impossible to read Max’s feelings this afternoon; all the expressive light had gone from his eyes and he was sitting, perfectly composed, his face unreadable. There was an air of seriousness about him, that was what was different.