Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1
‘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.
‘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.’
She was interested to see that he had not expected any such reaction from her. ‘Are you? Well, I’ll be damned.’
‘Very likely, Cousin Nicholas, but I would be obliged if you would moderate your language.’
He ignored this crushing reproof. ‘Physical attraction? Is that what you call it?’
‘What would you call it?’ Tallie asked. This was dangerous ground indeed.
‘The same, but I hardly expected an unmarried girl to do so.’ His expression was grim.
‘Indeed?’ Tallie got up and stalked towards the door. ‘Well, my lord, I am not a girl, I am five and twenty, and I prefer the truth without hypocrisy. I have doubtless acted very imprudently, shockingly and in a downright unmaidenly manner. However, it was an interesting experience, which we can now forget all about.’ She smiled sweetly and opened the door. ‘It was most intriguing to see what all the fuss is about.’ Nick took a long stride towards her, a noise alarmingly like a mastiff growling emanating from his throat.
Tallie, who was beginning to think she had gone somewhat too far in her efforts to disabuse him of the slightest suspicion of how she truly felt, was relieved to see Lady Parry in the hall.
‘Ah, there you are, dear, I was looking for you. Nicholas! Excellent, would you care to accompany us to Mr Harland’s studio?’
Chapter Thirteen
Mr Harland’s studio. Tallie felt the blood drain out of her face and wondered wildly if she was going to faint. Then she saw Nick watching her speculatively and she rallied herself. ‘Mr Harland, ma’am?’
‘Yes, I have decided to have my portrait taken after all and I need to call to arrange terms and so forth. Do you mind accompanying me?’
‘Oh,’ Tallie managed feebly. ‘No, no, of course not.’
‘I am sorry, Aunt Kate,’ Nick said, gathering up his hat and gloves from the hall chest. ‘I had only dropped in for a minute. I have a business appointment now, otherwise I would be delighted to accompany you.’
Tallie’s anger that he had considered ‘only a minute’ sufficient to discuss yesterday’s encounter allowed her to put on her outdoor clothing and join Lady Parry in the carriage without refining too much upon where they were going. But once the carriage started her thoughts began to spin.
She had written to Mr Harland, apologising for having to cease her sittings and had received back such a carefully worded reply that she was reassured about his continuing discretion. Absence, and Kate’s revelation that she knew all about her sittings, had lulled her still further.
Now she realised how dangerously she had let her guard down, even if Lady Parry knew her secret. What if Nick had been able to oblige his aunt and accompany them and saw something that linked Tallie and the naked Diana in his mind? Even a slight suspicion would be enough to spell disgrace.
The journey to Panton Square passed quickly, too quickly for Tallie, who was desperately trying to regain her composure. She held furs and muff for Lady Parry as she was handed down by the coachman, then descended herself. As she did so some instinct made her glance back to where the tiny square opened out into Coventry Street. A hackney had drawn up and a man was paying his fare—a thin man in an overlarge greatcoat. She shook her head, convinced she was imagining things. When she looked back both man and cab had gone.
The sound of the door opening behind her recalled her to the immediate problem and Tallie followed Lady Parry into the hallway of Mr Harland’s house. Peter the colourman was standing holding the door, his best green baize apron in place, his scanty grey hair carefully brushed. On ‘portrait days’ he was always well turned out to greet clients. On the days when Tallie had posed for the classical works he had hurried back to his workshop, oil-stained apron flapping, knife or pestle in hand.
He helped Lady Parry with her things, then saw Tallie behind her. ‘Miss Grey! This is a pleasure, miss. You’ll be glad to know I’ve managed to get a nice consignment of mummy in at long last.’
‘Good morning, Peter. I am pleased to hear that—supplies were getting very difficult, were they not?’ Peter had sometimes allowed her to look round his workshop and had explained the contents of the jars and twists of paper that filled each shelf and spilled from every drawer.
‘Mummy?’ Lady Parry, always ready to be interested in something new, paused with one hand on the baluster.
‘Yes, my lady. I’ll show you.’ The colourman vanished into his sanctum and emerged with a box, which he opened carefully. Inside were a number of fragile sheets of a flaking substance the colour of dried tobacco and a gnarled object which looked exactly like part of a human finger.
‘Whatever is it?’ Lady Parry asked, extending an elegantly gloved forefinger to prod it.
‘I rather think it is a … a human finger.’ Tallie swallowed. It had been fascinating to hear how artists ground up the remains dug from the hot Egyptian sands to use as a brown pigment. It was considerably less appealing to see it in the … flesh. She swallowed again. That had been an unfortunate thought.
‘Oh, my goodness! The poor creature! What do you want it for?’ Lady Parry withdrew her own finger sharply.
‘It was only a part of a heathen, my lady, and been dead since the Flood, I daresay.’ Peter shut his precious box carefully. ‘It makes a wonderful deep brown pigment; nothing quite matches it. But the cost, ma’am, that is terrible. Lucky those rogues who broke in last night didn’t think to come down here—why, I’ve got lapis and gold leaf—’
‘You had burglars? What happened?’ Tallie asked, concerned. ‘I do hope no one was hurt.’
‘Nothing like that, I am glad to say.’ It was Mr Harland, alerted by the voices, coming down to greet his new client. ‘Good day, Lady Parry, this is an honour. Miss Grey, how very nice to see you again.’ Tallie smiled despite herself. Frederick Harland might be vague, inconsiderate and distracted when painting, and he might profess to despise his portrait work, but he did know how to charm his lady clients with every attention.
He was ushering them up to his public studio and reception room, a world away from the dusty draughty attic where his great canvases would be set up and where Tallie was used to shivering in flimsy draperies.
‘Was anything taken?’ she asked as he drew up chairs for them next to a series of empty display easels.
‘No—a very strange thing, that.’ The artist frowned. ‘They rummaged through the canvases—fortunately damaged nothing—and that was all.’
‘Possibly they were disturbed,’ Lady Parry suggested. ‘Or they thought you might hide your valuables amongst them.’
‘You are most likely correct, ma’am. Now, as I understand you have decided upon a portrait and are most graciously entrusting me with the task. I think the first thing we must decide is the size and style of the work. I will show you some examples …’
He proceeded to prop canvases on the easels. First a head and shoulders of a formidable lady with grey hair. ‘Lady Agatha Mornington. I am about to begin varnishing this one.’ Tallie started nervously; this was Jack Hemsley’s aunt. Next, a three-quarters length of a young lady holding a child. Then a full-length canvas of a graceful figure in a clinging gown, one hand lightly resting on a classical pillar. It was a preparatory sketch only, but well detailed, and the face that smiled serenely back at the viewer was Tallie’s.
‘Ah, there is that delightful portrait I saw last time I was here,’ Lady Parry said with pleasure.
‘Yes, my lady. As you had already seen it, I thought there was no harm in producing it again, and I expect Miss Grey will be amused to see it once more. I will just fetch my notebook,’ Mr Harland said and left the room.
‘That … that is the picture of me you saw?’ Tallie asked, hideous apprehension beginning to ball in her stomach. ‘The one I sat for because Lady Smythe was expecting?’
‘Yes, of course, dear. Were there any others? I do think it is nice that Mr Harland bothered to draw your face, even though in the finished work it is Lady Smythe, of course.’
‘And that is the … costume you thought shocking?’ The ball of apprehension was turning into lead shot in the pit of her stomach.
‘It looks as though the petticoats have been dampened,’ Kate said severely. ‘One can see every line of your figure. And what is holding the bodice up—if one can call it a bodice—goodness only knows. Still, everyone knows Penelope Smythe thinks of herself as a dasher, and it must have hit her hard to have lost her figure, however temporary that state of affairs was.’
Tallie sank back in her chair aghast. So Lady Parry had not seen one of the shocking classical nudes, only this portrait. She should have trusted her instincts that her kind patroness was being too tolerant. Now what was she going to do?
Mr Harland had returned and he and Lady Parry were deep in discussion on the relative merits of head and shoulders and full length—three-quarters having been rapidly dismissed as neither one thing nor another. Eventually full length was decided upon, with a draped background. Tallie found it quite impossible to do more than keep an expression of interest on her face and then follow Lady Parry downstairs when her business was concluded.
Her head was spinning and she was conscious only of an overwhelming desire to throw herself on Nick Stangate’s chest and confess all. As this was dangerous insanity she stood on the pavement in the light mizzle which had just begun to fall and tried to drag air into her tightened lungs. Then she saw the man.
‘Tallie? What is it? You have gone quite pale.’ Lady Parry hurried her into the carriage and began to rummage in her reticule.
‘I think I … we … are being followed,’ Tallie blurted out.
‘What? By whom?’
‘A man—he has just ducked back into an alleyway down there. I saw him getting out of a hackney behind us when we arrived here, and I saw him lurking outside the house when we went to Ackerman’s the other day. And I am sure he has been around before—I thought him familiar then.’ Tallie broke off and tried to speak calmly. ‘I am sorry, Aunt Kate, I am probably imagining things.’
‘Perhaps, perhaps not. There are any number of dangerous characters around,’ Kate Parry said grimly. ‘I will speak to Nicholas about it.’
‘Oh, no! He will think me over-imaginative to worry about such things.’
‘Well, I am worried, and he had better not suggest that I am over-imaginative,’ Lady Parry retorted with a twinkle. ‘And in any case Nicholas uses enquiry agents from time to time, he will know all about how to deal with this.’
An unpleasant thought crept into Tallie’s mind. She knew Nick had had her investigated before she had joined his aunt. And he knew she still hid a secret from him. Was this man his, following her to discover that secret? If that was the case, then today he had been closer than he knew.
Nick was waiting for them when they returned to Bruton Street. They found him sprawled in an armchair with a careless elegance that took away Tallie’s breath. He tossed aside the portfolio of papers he was reading and got to his feet as they entered the room. Tallie realised she had never been so conscious of how long his legs were nor of how easily he moved.
‘A successful meeting?’ he asked with a smile, which faded as he took in the anxiety on his aunt’s face. ‘What is wrong?’
‘I think we had better talk about it over luncheon, Nicholas. Talitha and I will be down in a moment; will you be so kind as to tell Rainbird we will wait upon ourselves.’
* * *
Shortly after, Tallie sat down apprehensively and passed cold meats to Lady Parry at her side. She took a slice of bread and began to cut it into thin fingers.
‘Aunt Kate?’ Nick took a slice of beef, but did not start to eat. ‘What has occurred?’
‘Just a foolish idea of mine,’ Tallie said defensively. ‘The more I think about it, the more—’
‘Talitha believes she, or perhaps we, are being followed.’
Nick’s brows drew together sharply. ‘By whom?’
‘A thin man in a greatcoat and beaver hat.’
‘I am sure it is just a coincidence,’ Tallie murmured. His grey eyes turned to her face and he raised one brow.
‘And how often has this coincidence struck you?’
‘Four times,’ she admitted. ‘At least three I am certain of. I am sure I had seen him before—perhaps once, perhaps more—which is why I noticed him the next time.’
‘Did he approach you? Try to speak to you?’
Tallie shook her head and Lady Parry added, ‘I am certain he has some criminal intent. Perhaps he is trying to find a pattern to our comings and goings so he can break into the house. After all, look at poor Mr Harland.’
For a second the mask of calm enquiry that Nick was wearing cracked. His head turned sharply to his aunt. ‘Harland? What has happened to him?’
‘The house was broken into,’ Lady Parry explained. ‘It is dreadful how lawless the streets of London are becoming.’
‘And what was taken?’
‘Nothing apparently. They just searched amongst the canvases.’
‘Interesting.’ He said it almost to himself. ‘Now that is interesting.’
‘What shall we do about the man in the beaver hat, Nicholas dear?’
‘Go nowhere without two of the larger footmen in attendance and tell the coachman to carry a blunderbuss. I will speak to Rainbird. I would not worry, Aunt Kate—if this man has any sinister intent, he will soon see you are well protected and shift his interest elsewhere.’
Lady Parry appeared to find this sufficient reassurance and began to talk cheerfully of her planned portrait. Tallie was not so sure. She made herself eat her bread and butter and sip a little from her glass while watching Nick from under her lowered lashes. She could tell he was thinking furiously, despite the flow of inconsequential talk he was maintaining in response to his aunt.
When they rose from the table he intercepted her. ‘Tallie, I would like to speak to you if I may.’
She cast a hunted look at the dining-room door closing behind Lady Parry. She knew she should reprove him for using her pet name, but the sound of it on his lips was seductively sweet.
‘I promise I am not going to kiss you,’ he said infuriatingly. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion and he added, ‘Or do anything else to take advantage of—what did you call it?—oh, yes, our unfortunate mutual physical attraction.’
‘Good.’ Tallie edged around the table. Despite his assurances she still felt safer with a width of shining mahogany between them. Quite whether it was Nicholas or herself that she was nervous of she was not prepared to examine. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
‘Will you reconsider telling me about your secret? The one you believe my aunt knows all about. Only I do not believe she does.’
‘No, you are correct. She does not. I honestly believed it when I told you that, but I was wrong.’ It was a relief to tell him some of the truth if not all.
‘Tell me.’ He sat down opposite her.
Feeling a little more secure, Tallie sat too. Her legs were shaking. ‘Why?’
‘Because I think it would be safer if you did.’
It was very tempting. Tallie stared into the grey eyes, but they did not hold the reassurance she was looking for. It would not take very much to make her blurt it all out—she could quite understand why people confessed to crimes when questioned. But the inimical gaze regarding her belonged to the man who did not trust her, did not approve of her friends, who wanted her out of his family’s house and lives. The fact that she loved him did not make it any easier, it simply made the thought of the expression on his face when he discovered the truth harder to bear.