Scandal in the Regency Ballroom. Louise Allen

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СКАЧАТЬ against the heavy cut-glass flagon of drinking water. Max saw, more than heard, her sharp intake of breath. Small white teeth caught on the fullness of her lower lip and she closed her eyes briefly before lifting the wine glass.

      That clinched it—hair, eyes, mouth might all be some amazing chance likeness, but all that and a painfully injured right wrist, that was beyond coincidence.

      He caught her eye and mouthed Bree? For a moment he thought she might continue to cut him, then a twinkle of mischief lit her eyes and she nodded slightly before raising one gloved finger to her lips in a fleeting warning.

      How the Devil did she get in here? Max jerked his attention back to the young lady on his left who, unfortunately, showed no sign of wanting to prattle mindlessly, unlike Miss Robinson. He was going to have to exert himself to entertain this one, when all he wanted to do was speculate wildly about Bree’s presence under the Dowager Duchess of Matchingham’s roof. Admittedly, it was the current Duke’s roof, but no one, let alone that nobleman, believed he had any chance of ruling it while the Dowager lived.

      He offered peas to the young lady, agreed that the latest gossip about the Prince Regent was too intriguing for words and asked her opinion of the latest exhibition at the Royal Academy.

      That at least gave him a chance to think about Bree. How had she obtained the entrée into such a gathering? And where, for goodness’ sake, had she obtained a gown that was the work of a top-flight modiste?

      The meal dragged on interminably, the passage of time doing nothing but build the tension in his nerves and the disconcerting feeling of arousal in his loins. How could he have guessed that the enchantingly different girl in her man’s clothing was the possessor of an elegant neck, of white, sloping shoulders and the most deliciously rounded bosom? The gown she was wearing was apparently designed to make the very best of all these features and, unlike the very young ladies in their first Season, she had dispensed with the froth of tulle or lace that disguised them. If he had wanted her before, now the need was painful.

      The ladies, called together by the Duchess rising, began to file out amidst a scraping of chairs. At the door Bree glanced back over her shoulder. Their eyes met. Was he imagining things or had she motioned with her head towards the terrace?

      Chapter Six

      Max waited a moment. Several guests rose and made their way out. He joined them, making his way out through the long windows on to the terrace that ran the full width of the gardens. At intervals steps went down to the lawns and at the far end there was a charming summerhouse.

      Max strolled along. Where is she? Had he misunderstood? Then he glimpsed a flutter of pale draperies behind one of the pillars of the summerhouse. ‘Bree?’

      ‘In here, my lord. Thank you for coming. I could only hope you would understand my meaning. How is your shoulder?’ Some light reached them from the house where every room blazed with illumination, but it was not intense and he moved close to study her face. Her voice was a touch breathless, but otherwise she was remarkably composed for a young lady in such a compromising position.

      ‘A little sore, but healing well, thank you. I did not expect to find you at such a party. I was having trouble believing my eyes.’

      ‘I was shocked to see you too, although why I cannot imagine—I am sure you must go to endless smart parties. I was being mischievous, I am afraid, teasing you by pretending I was not myself. Then Mr Latymer asked me if I knew you. I should have said yes, in an indifferent way, and he would have thought nothing of it. Then I realised I risked all sorts of embarrassments if you greeted me later. I will warn Piers not to react if he meets you.’

      Max took her by the elbow and steered her to the front of the summerhouse where its arcade overlooked the silent gardens. Bree perched on the balustrade and leant her back on a pillar.

      ‘Your brother is here too?’ How had both the Mallorys inveigled their way in?

      ‘Of course—you do not know who we are. Viscount Farleigh is our half-brother. Our mama married twice. She was the daughter of Lord Grendon, so we have dozens of Grendon cousins—most of them are here tonight. Then, when James’s father died unexpectedly, she married again, for love. It was very romantic—her horse bolted and Papa jumped a five-bar gate on his hunter and galloped after her and snatched her from the saddle. Mama used to say he snatched her heart and never gave it back.

      ‘As you can guess, there was the most frightful row. Mama was only just out of mourning and, although Papa was perfectly respectable and owned land, some of the family had drifted downstream socially. The cousin who was a highwayman was almost an insuperable obstacle, but fortunately—in the opinion of the old viscount—he was hanged just before the wedding, poor man. His grandfather insisted on bringing James up, so we are not at all close.’

      ‘So you must be the skeletons in the cupboard Avery was telling me about.’

      Bree gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘That’s us.’ He could see from the glint of light on white teeth that she was smiling. ‘James insisted we come along and demonstrate that we do not swig gin out of the bottle or try to sell doctored nags to the unwary or whatever it is the Dowager believes we do, the old gorgon. I think we surprised her.’

      ‘You surprise me,’ Max admitted. ‘You must agree, breeches and beaver hat do not show you to your best.’

      She chuckled. ‘They are very practical, but I do prefer being a girl. I enjoyed dressing up for this evening. I took your advice, you know.’

      ‘You did?’ Max shifted his position so he could sit facing her. ‘What about?’

      ‘I almost had my hair cropped. My coiffeur wanted me to, I wanted to, or I thought I did. But at the last minute I remembered what you said, and didn’t.’

      ‘It looks … very well.’ And I want to take out every single pin and comb, very, very slowly, until it all tumbles down.

      ‘Thank you! I must go back.’ She jumped down off the balustrade, shaking out her skirts. Max smiled, his amusement at her lack of concern unseen in the gloom.

      ‘Bree?’

      ‘Yes?’ She stood poised on the top step, ready to flit back along the terrace.

      ‘Will you dance with me this evening?’

      ‘Me?’ Even in that light he could make out the incredulity on her face. ‘My lord, earls are far too top-lofty for the likes of me.’

      ‘Earls dance with the sisters of viscounts and the granddaughters of barons, and I’ll wager Lansdowne has already asked you for a dance.’ And she is not an innocent little bourgeoise, she understands this world, my world, even if she is not actually apart of it. This is becoming something very different, and I can’t fool myself it is not. He stood looking at her, thoughts rushing through his mind. Now I have to do something about Drusilla.

      ‘Yes, well …’ She was in a delightful dither, his stare only adding to her confusion. Max found it strangely encouraging that he seemed to have this effect on her. ‘Lord Lansdowne is about to become my brother-in-law.’

      ‘Well …’ Max pursued, moving closer ‘… I am so top-lofty, as you put it, that I will dance with whom I choose, especially if they happen to be the most beautiful girl in the room.’

      ‘Me?’ СКАЧАТЬ