William enquired in a whisper, casting a hasty glance round to see if anyone had noticed their conversation. ‘You compromised her. And she’s in love with you.’
‘What?’ Nick thundered, fortunately under cover of the opening chords of the boulanger, then dropped his voice hastily. ‘Of course she isn’t. If she were, she wouldn’t have turned me down.’ Or given me such an effective summing up of my thoroughly unsatisfactory character, he thought grimly. His mind flinched at the memory of her bitingly expressed opinions—cold, controlling, aloof, amused at the antics of lesser mortals. Apparently pleasant enough to kiss.
William gave an unmannerly snort of disbelief. ‘The pair of you are going about like April and May, for goodness’ sake!’ Nick regarded him incredulously. ‘Very well, not quite like that, I suppose, but one can feel it in the air when the two of you are together. A certain something.’
‘What you can feel is irritation on my part and wilful bad temper and obstinacy on hers.’ And enough erotic attraction to light kindling, Nick ruefully acknowledged. Could Tallie possibly be in love with him? Surely not, or why on earth refuse him? He shook his head as though shaking off an irritating fly. William was hardly a connoisseur of the tender passions—paying him any heed on the subject was madness.
And if anyone was running mad it was Nicholas Stangate, Lord Arndale. He had given himself two weeks to change Tallie’s mind and now he was even further from understanding that mind than he had been at seven o’clock that morning. Damn it, was it only that morning that she’d lain in his arms, in his bed? He felt his body tightening at the memory and trampled ruthlessly on the recollection of soft, warm, naked … ‘Boiled fish.’
‘What?’
God, he was losing his mind if that was the best he could do to conjure up the most unerotic thought possible. ‘Never mind, I was thinking aloud. Best go and find Aunt Kate and tell her Tallie is not feeling well. She’ll probably want to take her home.’
William began to weave his way through the guests. Nick was vaguely conscious of him leaving, but his eyes stayed on the closed door of the sitting-out room. Provokingly independent, charmingly outrageous, worryingly courageous. All those descriptions fitted Talitha Grey. Marriage to her would certainly never be boring. His involuntary smile faded at the memory of the handkerchief she had held to her eyes as she vanished into the room. He had never seen her cry before, surely? Oh, yes, he had, he recalled with a pang of conscience. Once when he had knocked the breath out of her and once when some sharp remark he had made had caused her eyes to fill with bravely suppressed tears. At the thought of her distress something tightened hard in the pit of his stomach. Had he been harassing her? Pushing her too far? Or was it just that the last twenty-four hours were enough to undermine the spirits of anyone, however resolute?
Tallie sniffed resolutely and waved away the sal volatile that Miss Harvey, a fellow débutante, was helpfully attempting to press into her hand. ‘Thank you, no, I am quite all right. It was just that someone stood on my toe—so very painful! I quite thought he had broken it, and my eyes were watering. No, no, I assure you, you are most kind …’
Would the wretched girl never go away? Tallie wiped her eyes, smiled with more than a hint of gritted teeth and at last, thankfully, Miss Harvey turned away, only to swing round at the door with renewed offers of assistance.
‘No, nothing you can do. So kind of you …’ And it was kind, Tallie acknowledged to herself. And poor William had probably meant nothing more than to ask her to dance, or if she wanted a drink. Her nerves were on edge, she was overtired, that was all. In the morning after a good night’s sleep all would be in proportion again. Nicholas would accept his congé with good grace, Aunt Kate would stop worrying and she could slip away down to Putney to see Zenna’s proposed schoolhouse for a few days’ peace and quiet. Then she could return and spend the last weeks of the Season enjoying herself before slipping quietly out of Society for ever.
‘Talitha dearest, whatever is the matter!’ It was Lady Parry, all of a flutter, waving aside the attendant and seizing Tallie’s hands in hers as she plumped down on the sofa next to her.
‘Nothing, Aunt Kate, I am just a little tired, that is all.’
‘I should never have agreed to this madcap scheme of Nicholas’s, not so soon after … after last night. You must be emotionally drained, you poor child. Come along, I have told William to order up the carriage; we’ll send it back for the men later and they can stay and play cards and flirt to their hearts’ content. Why they do not flag with exhaustion I do not know—I am quite worn out.’
‘Possibly because you do not stay abed until past noon the next day, ma’am,’ Tallie suggested lightly. She would raise the idea of a trip to Putney on their way back, then she could try to sleep, at least knowing that was settled.
Clucking under her breath at the indolent and dissipated ways of modern young men, Lady Parry swept Tallie out of the sitting-out room and scanned the crowds. ‘Goodness knows where Agatha Mornington has got to—probably flirting with the Lord Chief Justice.’
‘Surely not?’ Despite herself Tallie was entertained at the thought.
‘Well, they do say she had an affaire with him in their youth,’ Lady Parry confided, then recalled to whom she was speaking and added firmly, ‘All silly gossip, of course. Now, where has William got to?’
At length the ladies found themselves safely in their carriage, Tallie having found the opportunity for a rapid whispered apology to William. ‘I am so sorry I was short when you tried to speak to me, I am just so tired this evening.’ The effect of her green eyes, still swimming with unshed tears, was more than enough to reduce him to a stammered assurance that he had noticed nothing, nothing at all out of the way, and of course she must be tired.
Lady Parry disposing her furs, reticule and fan about her on the broad expanse of green velvet, was less easy to fob off. ‘You poor child! What a dreadful couple of days you have had of it.’ Although Tallie could not see her face, she was aware of a shift of mood, a sharpening of interest. ‘Now, has Nicholas had the opportunity to speak to you?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And?’
‘And what, ma’am?’
‘Has he proposed to you?’
‘Lord Arndale has kindly explained to me that I am ruined, hopelessly compromised and must marry him, yes.’
‘And?’
‘In the face of such a tender declaration I felt no compunction in declining,’ Tallie replied, somewhat more tartly than she had intended.
‘Oh, foolish boy! I had no thought that he could express himself so badly! What on earth is he about? When I consider how much address he has …’
‘Possibly too much, dear ma’am. I think Lord Arndale expects the weaker sex to fall in at once with whatever he proposes, whether it is a walk in the park, the best place for their investments or his opinion on their marriage prospects. I, however, do not choose to dance to his lordship’s tune and, as I have already explained to him, I have no intention of marrying and never have had.’
‘But, Talitha, do consider …’
‘I agree, dearest Aunt Kate, that I am indeed compromised. Should I be intending to marry, it would put me in the most delicate of situations for I would need, in all honour, to confess everything to a prospective husband. And,’ she added with a wry laugh, ‘I suspect he would remain a contender for my hand for not a moment after hearing that confession. But I have not the slightest desire to take a husband, so it does not arise.’
‘Oh, Tallie, how can you not wish to marry? And Nicholas is the most eligible of men.’
‘Why, certainly, ma’am, if one is concerned only with title, wealth, intelligence, looks and a ready address. I am foolish enough to wish only for a husband, be he ever so humble, who loves me and tells me so. I am most unlikely to find such a soul