scrap of gossip about her fortune and circumstances and this dance was the opening salvo in his campaign to woo the new heiress. It would be amusing to thank him coolly after the dance and to refuse another. She had no sooner resolved on this admirably sensible course of action than the parting lines of dancers gave her a view of Nick Stangate watching her across the floor.
His disapproval was as palpable as if he had spoken and she flushed angrily.
Did he think that after kissing her and lecturing her he was now going to try and exert some form of control over her in the ballroom? Well, it was time he was taught a lesson, Tallie fumed inwardly. She would show him she was not easily taken in by rakes and fortune hunters and could perfectly easily handle the likes of Jack Hemsley.
She pushed away the knowledge that she had been hurt that evening by his silence when she came downstairs. If she thought about it she would cry, which was ridiculous. She did not need Nick Stangate’s approval or admiration. She knew she was looking very fine. Lady Parry had told her, William’s open admiration told her, the expressions of the people she met told her.
Tallie tried not to refine too much on the look on Nick’s face as she had walked tremulously down those endless stairs. She had expected him to be pleased at the transformation, to smile, to show some warmth and admiration. Instead his face had set into stone, his eyes had glittered coldly and he had not even managed to make some token remark.
Her thoughts must have shown on her face for, as the last notes of the dance echoed around the room and she rose from her curtsy, Jack Hemsley asked, ‘Have I displeased you, Miss Grey? Do not say I am responsible for that frown.’
‘Was I frowning? I do beg your pardon. It is just the … the noise and the heat. I am not accustomed to balls, you see.’
‘Then you must have a glass of lemonade and some air, Miss Grey.’ He was guiding her from the floor with practised smoothness, one hand just resting under her elbow, smiling and bowing as they made their way through the throng.
‘I am all right, really, Mr Hemsley. If I could just go back to Lady Parry.’ It was difficult to know how to extricate herself without making a scene.
‘In a moment, Miss Grey, you are quite flushed. I am sure there is a risk of you swooning if you return immediately to that crush and heat. Now just here … ah, yes.’
He pushed open a door and Tallie found herself in a little room, almost like a box at the theatre. It opened out onto a balcony overlooking the garden, although the windows were closed against the chill March night.
‘I will just open this a crack, so, and if you sit here …’ he patted a sofa encouragingly ‘… then you will not be in the draught, but you will have the benefit of the air.’
It all seemed very sensible, even innocuous. ‘Thank you, sir.’ Tallie sat down, suddenly aware of just how warm she was feeling. ‘Perhaps if I was to drink some lemonade as you suggested, I will be able to go back in a moment.’
‘Of course.’ Instead of going out for the drink, he sat next to her and lifted her hand in his. ‘Why, your pulse is racing my dear Miss Grey. I think I had better remain here for a moment just in case you feel faint. Put your head on my shoulder so …’
‘Stop it!’ Tallie struggled to stand up and found herself very effectively pinned against the upholstery. Mr Hemsley might affect the airs of a languid man of fashion, but the muscles under his coat were alarmingly hard as she pushed against them.
‘Just one little kiss before we go back, my dear.’
Tallie freed a hand and swung it. It made satisfying contact with the side of his head, but left her gasping and clutching her wrist with the jarring pain. Hemsley’s hands groped for her, found her hair and gripped in an effort to turn her face for a kiss.
Tallie wrenched back and felt pins and combs falling down. With a jerk of her knee she was free, on her feet, halfway to the door.
It opened and she found herself face to face with Nick, William at his back. She stopped dead, the carefully piled edifice of her coiffure broke free and hair cascaded down her back. Behind her Jack Hemsley swore, a sharp, vicious sound. In front of her she saw Nick pull William into the room and slam the door to behind him.
‘Stop anyone coming in.’
William placed his back against the panels and stared at the scene. The sight of the shock and distress on his young face hurt Tallie more than anything else.
‘You will name your seconds, Hemsley.’ Nick sounded icily calm.
‘Now look here, I know how this looks …’
‘It looks as though you were assaulting Miss Grey.’
‘Well, I wasn’t. Thought she was going to faint—heat and so on. Brought her in here, opened the window, see. Wouldn’t do a damn fool thing like that if I was going to tumble the girl now, would I?’
William straightened up from the door, his fists clenched. Nick put out a hand and stopped him. ‘You will speak of Miss Grey with respect or I will not trouble with form and deal with you here and now.’
‘You wouldn’t do that—look, Nick old chap, it’s all a misunderstanding, silly chit thought I was trying to—’
The blow landed with a satisfying thump right on the point of Hemsley’s chin. Nick stepped forward, rubbing his balled fist in the other palm. ‘Get up. I want to do that again.’ He sounded as though he was asking the man to deal another hand of cards.
Tallie swirled round and stared at the wall. She didn’t want to see what Nick was doing, didn’t want to see the look on his face as he methodically began to take Jack Hemsley to pieces. And she did not want to see the disillusion on William’s face as he realised what the man he thought was his friend was capable of with a young woman living in his house.
‘Now get out. William, make sure he gets away from this room without anyone seeing him. And, Hemsley, don’t even think of speaking of this, will you? Because if you do, I’ll break your neck.’
Thank God, he hadn’t killed him. Tallie wondered vaguely if she was going to be sick. Probably not, she concluded after a fierce struggle with her stomach. Was she alone? William had gone, and Hemsley. The room was quiet except for the sounds of music and talk and laughter penetrating the heavy door.
She put out a hand to the wall in front of her and just stood, head bowed, her hair shielding her face. Then she knew she was not alone. Someone moved behind her, so close she could feel his heat through her flimsy gown and hands turned her into the safety of soft linen, encircling arms, a strong comforting heartbeat.
‘Nick.’
‘What?’ His breath stirred her hair. She felt a weight on the top of her head as though he had laid his cheek there.
‘Just … Nick. I am sorry to have been so foolish, I really thought he was going to get me a glass of lemonade. He won’t say anything, will he?’
‘Not and expect to live, no. He is a coward and I am both a better shot and a better swordsman than he is.’ There was a pause. ‘Are you crying?’
‘No,’ lied Tallie, trying not to sniff. She felt so safe, so warm, so cherished.
‘In that case, why is the front of my shirt becoming soggy?’ Nick enquired.
Tallie felt his hand under her chin and her face was ruthlessly tipped up despite her efforts to resist. ‘I have to tell you, Cousin Talitha, your nose is pink, but your eyes look absolutely enchanting swimming in tears. It is quite obvious that you did not pay the slightest attention to the warning I gave you the other day. I will just have to repeat it.’
This time the kiss was not so gentle, not so careful. Tallie found her lips parting under the onslaught of his, then gasped as his tongue invaded ruthlessly. Her body appeared to understand exactly what that intrusion meant, wanted more, was telling her to react in ways that were new and shamingly wanton in order