Scandal in the Regency Ballroom: No Place For a Lady / Not Quite a Lady. Louise Allen

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      ‘Here it comes.’ The second glove slid off, the fragile kid insubstantial in his hand. Bree found she could not take her eyes off it; it seemed like a crushed leaf. Latymer lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. ‘Such a very hot little hand.’

      ‘Good afternoon.’ A deep voice had Bree jerking her hand out of Latymer’s grip and sitting bolt upright, her cheeks scarlet. ‘Undressing, Miss Mallory?’

      She gasped. Of course, it just had to be Max Dysart regarding her with raised eyebrows from the back of a very fine black gelding.

      What the devil is she doing, letting Latymer make love to her in the middle of Green Park? He’ll be starting on her garters next. Max recognised the look of heavy-lidded concentration—Latymer was hunting, whether Bree in her innocence knew it or not. However, dismounting, dragging him out of the phaeton and punching him, while it would be satisfying, was not acceptable behaviour in public parks, especially as Bree was showing no signs of distress at his actions.

      The gelding sidled, picking up his mood. Max steadied it with hands and the pressure of his thighs, without conscious thought.

      ‘Mr Latymer was lending me his gloves as he was kind enough to offer to let me drive, and I was foolish enough to come in the most impractical ones imaginable.’

      Max fought a brisk battle with his own temper, and won. He had made no claim on her—if one discounted a scandalously indiscreet kiss—and he had no right to be jealous if he found her in a public place with another man. But it was damned hard to be rational and fair about this when the other man was Brice Latymer, whom he trusted about as far as he could throw him.

      ‘I was not aware that you wished for driving lessons, Miss Mallory.’

      ‘Hardly lessons, my lord, although I am sure Mr Latymer will be able to give me many useful pointers. Is it not kind of him to remember his promise to take me driving? Lord Lansdowne did as well, and Lady Lucas.’

      Hell, I promised to take her driving too! And she’s furious that I haven’t, Max realised with a flash of insight. Is that just pique, or is she disappointed? He should be apologetic that he had forgotten; instead, he cheerfully heaped coals on the flames to see if that produced a reaction.

      ‘Yes, most thoughtful of them,’ he agreed cordially. ‘You see how much fun you are having since you began to follow my advice, Miss Mallory?’ He tipped his hat to her, and nodded to her companion. ‘Latymer. Enjoy your drive.’ He turned the gelding’s head and cantered off towards the park entrance, fully conscious of two pairs of eyes glaring at his back.

      ‘Advice?’ Bree was conscious of Brice Latymer’s own hostility, even through her own chagrin. There was something between the two men, something she had noticed, but not given any thought to, in the inn yard in Hounslow. Whatever it was, Max had not liked seeing her with Mr Latymer. Infuriating man. It would serve him right if she set out to make him jealous.…

      ‘Advice?’ Latymer repeated.

      ‘Er, yes. He suggested that I … that I get out more, spend less time at home looking after things.’

      ‘Did he indeed?’ Brice Latymer’s voice was silky. ‘How right he was, of course. But then, Lord Penrith specialises in being right. Now, if you would care to try my gloves?’

      Chapter Eleven

      The next day brought three invitations to parties from ladies Bree had met at the Dowager’s ball, a note from Georgy asking if she was going to Lady Court’s soirée, because, if so, could they go together because Lord Lucas would not be at home to escort his wife, and a slim package.

      ‘Goodness, look at these.’ Bree pushed the invitations across the breakfast table to Rosa. ‘We need more gowns, don’t you think? I haven’t got anything suitable for full-dress occasions.’

      ‘And I certainly have not. Do you intend to accept them all?’

      ‘I think so. I expect we will get weary of frivolity soon, but it is fun at the moment. So long as you are not finding it too much to go out in the evenings on top of working at the Mermaid.’

      ‘I enjoy it.’ Rosa spread honey on her roll and took a bite. ‘I am finding it very stimulating, and it is interesting to be working with adults. I do have a list of questions, though, if we could go through them before I go to the office. Unless you need me this morning?’

      ‘No, although we should go shopping, but I do not mind—morning or afternoon are both fine for me.’ Bree picked up the package and reached for her bread knife to slit the seals.

      ‘I’ll go this morning, then. Did I tell you I have solved the mystery of the fodder bill? Someone had put all the use of oats into the corn column and the … Goodness, what lovely gloves.’

      ‘They are, are they not?’ Bree stared at the fine calfskin gloves, perfect for a lady to drive in, with delicate punch work on the backs and dashing cuffs. They were strong, but as soft as butter when she stroked them.

      ‘Did you order them?’

      ‘No. I think they must be a present.’ Bree drew on the right one, flexing her fingers. ‘They are silk lined, what luxury.’

      ‘Who from? Oh, look, there is a card.’ Rosa caught it up and passed it to Bree.

      Max! ‘Oh. They are from Mr Latymer.’

      ‘My dear, you cannot possibly accept them. Not from a gentleman.’ Rosa ran one finger down the back of the left glove and sighed regretfully.

      ‘Why ever not? I could accept a fan or handkerchiefs, could I not?’

      Her companion coloured up. ‘Gloves are more … intimate.’

      ‘Whatever do you mean?’ Bree pulled on the other glove and smiled appreciatively as she turned her wrist to admire the effect. ‘They are hardly underwear!’

      ‘Oh, dear, how can I put this?’ Rosa glanced round and checked that the maid was not in the room. ‘There is a certain symbolism about gloves. And shoes. You have to insert part of your body into a tight fitting …’ She came to a halt, unable to explain further. ‘Cinderella,’ she added, rather wildly.

      Light dawned. ‘You mean, like sex? Good heavens, I had no idea.’ No wonder Mr Latymer was getting hot and bothered and Max had been so frosty when he saw Mr Latymer slowly stripping off her gloves in Green Park. ‘How am I supposed to know that?’

      ‘You aren’t. I’m supposed, as a good chaperon, to warn you.’

      ‘I’ll have to send them back, won’t I?’

      ‘I’m afraid so. With a polite note saying you appreciate the gesture, but you are unable to accept articles of apparel.’

      ‘Oh, dear.’ Bree sighed and folded the gloves back into their wrapping paper before any butter got on them. The door banged open and Piers bounced in. ‘Good morning, Piers.’

      ‘Morning. Good morning, Rosa. Bree, I’ve finished all my Latin. I got up early. Now, say I can go down to the Mermaid with Rosa this morning?’

      ‘If you СКАЧАТЬ