Scandal in the Regency Ballroom. Louise Allen

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ show Rosa around, settle her into the office,’ Piers had promised firmly. ‘You go and enjoy yourself.’ Really, if she had not known better, she would have thought Piers and Rosa were in a conspiracy to give her a holiday.

      Georgy was intent on buying enough images to make a fashionable print room out of a closet between her dressing room and her husband’s, but the necessity to buy what seemed like hundreds of prints from the shop did not distract her from the lure of fashion magazines, a stack of which were now waiting, oozing temptation, on Bree’s bedside table.

      It seemed strange to have a female friend, especially one as au fait with society as Lady Lucas. She seemed to have forgotten that Bree was single and cheerfully chatted of the latest crim. con. scandals, her falling out with her husband over her milliner’s bill and her scheme to put him in a better mood by wearing a quite outrageously naughty négligée she had just purchased.

      ‘It is the sheerest pink lawn, with deep rose ribbons and lots of lace, which makes it look as though it is quite decent until one moves and then—oh la, la! Charles is going to be beside himself.’

      Bree thought of what effect such a garment might have on Max and found the very thought brought a blush to her cheeks. It also brought a very unwelcome tingling feeling in all those places he had kissed and she tried to calm herself by thinking how very unflattering such a garment would be to her complexion in pink. Deep blue, on the other hand …

      ‘And how is Dysart?’ Georgy demanded, uncannily echoing her train of thought as they sat back in the barouche and regarded their morning’s shopping with satisfaction.

      ‘I have no idea. I saw him briefly the day after the ball when he called, but that is all.’

      ‘Really?’ Lady Lucas frowned. ‘How provoking. I would have thought he would have asked you out driving at least once by now.’

      So would I, Bree thought.

      ‘I am convinced you should marry him,’ her companion added chattily.

      ‘What!’ Bree sat bolt upright and shot a glance at the backs of the driver and groom sitting up in front of them. ‘I am quite ineligible, even were his lordship interested.’

      ‘Oh, I know I said you had better settle for a younger son,’ Georgy said airily, ‘but now I know you, I think you would do marvellously for Dysart. You have so much more élan than I could have hoped for—you could carry it off.’

      ‘But I do not want—’

      But Georgy was in full flow, although this time she lowered her voice. ‘If anyone can mend his broken heart, I am sure you can.’

      ‘His what?’ One thing Max Dysart did not appear to be afflicted by was a broken heart. Anyone less lovelorn she had yet to see.

      ‘They say he fell in love ten years ago and she would not have him, and now he holds the memory of her, for ever frozen, in his heart.’

      ‘That is a horrid image,’ Bree said robustly. ‘And, in any case, ten years is a long time. Why, he was hardly more than a boy then. Now he’s a man.’

      ‘Yes, but ten years ago, he withdrew from society!’ Georgy whispered, her voice thrilling. ‘In the height of the Season, he vanished off down to Longwater. That must have been when it happened.’

      ‘Well, who was she?’ Bree demanded. Max’s words at the ball came back: What would you say if I told you that I had a secret that would scandalise society? No, it couldn’t be that. A broken heart was sad, but not a scandal.

      ‘I have no idea,’ Georgy said, breathless with the excitement of a mystery. ‘But you can unfreeze his heart …’

      ‘Yuck! I shall do no such thing, even if I were capable of it. And even if it were frozen, which I am sure it is not.’

      ‘Then why has he not married?’

      ‘Because he has not found someone he loves enough.’ And when he does, he is going to court them properly, not promise to take them driving and then forget all about it!

      ‘You are horribly sensible,’ Georgy grumbled. ‘Just like darling Charles.’

      ‘Think of the négligée,’ Bree whispered to distract her, and was rewarded with a gurgle of laughter and a quick hug.

      Now Mr Latymer had called to take her out in his high-perch phaeton. It was a more showy vehicle than Lord Lansdowne’s, but she did not feel Mr Latymer’s pair was the equivalent in quality of the Viscount’s match bays, so honours so far were even.

      On hearing that she had been in Hyde Park yesterday, Mr Latymer had offered to take her again, or for her to name her choice, congratulating her when she decided on Green Park. ‘So much more tranquil,’ he observed, turning in out off the hubbub of Piccadilly and skirting the reservoir with its promenaders.

      ‘This is delightful. I have walked here often, of course, but I had not realised how pleasant it is for driving—so much less crowded than Hyde Park with everyone on the strut.’

      ‘Do you keep a carriage, Miss Mallory?’

      ‘No. Not in town. When we are at home in Buckinghamshire, then I drive a gig.’ She regarded Mr Latymer from under the shelter of the brim of her bonnet. He was not as good-looking as Lord Lansdowne, with dark looks which bordered on the sardonic, but he had an edge about him that was quite stimulating, she decided. It wasn’t in anything he said, more in the way that he said it. Sometimes he could deliver a compliment with a glint in his black eyes that made her suspect this was all a game to him. It certainly put a girl on her mettle.

      ‘Would you care to drive now?’

      ‘Why …’

      ‘Unless you are unsure about driving more than a single horse.’ He made it sound like a challenge.

      ‘Oh, no, I can drive four in—’ Oh, Lord!

      ‘Four in hand, Miss Mallory? What a very unusual skill for a woman.’

      Drat, double drat! ‘Farm wagons,’ she improvised hastily. ‘Only at a walk, of course, for fun, in the summer.’

      ‘Ah, I see. For a moment there I thought you were going to tell me you could drive a stagecoach.’

      Bree fought the temptation to look at him and try to read his expression. ‘Goodness, what a shocking thing to suggest, Mr Latymer!’ She laughed brightly. ‘But I would like to try a pair—under your guidance, of course.’

      ‘Certainly.’ He pulled up and began to hand her the reins. They both saw her gloves at the same time.

      ‘Oh, bother. I should have worn something more sensible to come out driving.’ Bree regarded the almond-green glacé kid gloves ruefully. ‘I bought them this morning, and could not resist. But I will surely split or stain them if I try to drive.’

      ‘Why not take them off and wear mine?’ Brice Latymer stripped off his gloves as he spoke. ‘They’ll be too big, of course, but the leather is very fine. They should protect your hands.’

      ‘Thank СКАЧАТЬ