LITMIR.BIZ

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Honoria had lent her.

      The effect, as she caught a glimpse of herself in the long glass in the hallway, was a shock. Her eyes were wide, intense. Her hair gleamed, there was colour in her cheeks, her skin was creamy above the elegantly modest neckline and her lips—her lips were curved into a provocative pout. Startled, Nell tightened them, to no avail. It must have been Marcus’s kisses, she thought, wondering if she appeared to others quite as comprehensively abandoned as she felt.

      The hall had been cleared of Lieutenant Carlow’s baggage, but voices and laughter were still coming from the drawing room. Nell opened the door and hesitated, uncertain whether she should be intruding. But it was well past the usual hour for luncheon.

      ‘Nell!’ Verity, of course, was the first on her feet, bubbling with excitement. ‘Come and meet Hal. Hal, this is Miss Latham.’

      The man who rose from amidst the group beside the fire was unmistakeably a Carlow, favouring Honoria rather than Verity in his looks. As tall as Marcus, but of a lighter, rangier build, his hair was more of a golden brown, his eyes blue-grey, his tanned face devoid of any hint of his older brother’s familiar frown.

      ‘Miss Latham.’ He came towards her, hand held out, a smile on his lips that made her feel that there was no one else in the room. ‘I understand I am to thank you for rescuing Marcus.’

      ‘Lord Stanegate was in no need of rescue, I assure you, Lieutenant Carlow,’ Nell protested, taking the long-fingered hand that seemed reluctant to let hers go. ‘He dealt with the situation most masterfully.’

      ‘That I can believe.’ The way his smile warmed his eyes sent a tingle right down to Nell’s toes. My goodness, he must have to beat the ladies off with sticks! she thought, startled by her own reaction. If I wasn’t in love with his brother I would be a puddle at his feet.

      ‘Come and sit by the fire, Miss Latham.’

      ‘I think it is time we all went in to luncheon,’ Lady Narborough said, getting to her feet and smiling at her son. ‘Miss Latham, you must be wondering if we were ever going to eat. I should have had the gong sounded half a hour since, but we were all so delighted to see Hal,’ she explained, leading the way to the door. ‘He has been giving us considerable anxiety.’

      ‘You have been wounded, I believe?’ Now that she had recovered from the impact of those smiling eyes, she could see that he was carrying little surplus weight and the skin under his eyes was shadowed as though by sleeplessness or pain.

      ‘A ridiculous scratch from a sabre that provoked a fever I couldn’t shake off. My commanding officer took exception to the fact that I kept falling flat on my face and ordered me to bed, then, once I got to my feet again he packed me off home. My regiment is here. I expect I will join it again in a week or two.’

      ‘You must be very happy to have him with you, Lady Narborough,’ Nell observed.

      ‘I am delighted to have both my sons at home,’ the countess said, taking her seat and gesturing Hal to sit beside her. ‘I have to confess that I wish they were both not in such a battered condition.’

      ‘They are both on the mend, my dear,’ the earl observed from the other end of the table.

      ‘Hmm.’ Lady Narborough looked doubtful. ‘They say they are.’

      There certainly appeared to be nothing wrong with Lieutenant Carlow’s appetite nor his ability to hold his own in conversation. He soothed his mother, passed on all the military gossip to his father, teased his sisters affectionately and still managed to give Nell the flattering impression that he could hardly keep his eyes off her.

      It was all flummery, of course. She was under no misapprehension about him. She was the only female at the table to whom he was not related and Hal Carlow was a rake who flirted as easily as he breathed.

      Nell had never been flirted with before. It was, she concluded, a most stimulating experience, even when one had a bruised heart. Or perhaps especially because of those bruises. A glance in the mirror reassured her. Yes, she was still looking remarkably fine. Experimentally she lowered her lashes and shot Mr Carlow a sideways glance. His lips curved appreciatively.

      ‘We must invite some people over, Mama,’ he observed. ‘Get up a party. Dance a little. I am sure Miss Latham would like to dance, would you not?’

      ‘I do not dance, Lieutenant Carlow.’

      ‘On principle? Never tell me you are a secret Quakeress.’ His gaze seemed to linger on her mouth.

      ‘Because of lack of ability, sir. I am sure Lady Narborough has explained, I am not in Society.’

      ‘But I could teach you.’ The polite offer held suggestions of many things that Hal Carlow would like to instruct her in.

      ‘Thank you, Mr Carlow, but I think it better not,’ she said demurely, realising a moment later that he had simply taken that as a challenge. The blue-grey eyes laughed at her as she felt her cheeks warm.

      He was still amusing himself by making her blush, and laugh, when they returned to the drawing room. ‘You make those prodigiously pretty bonnets my sisters wear?’ he asked.

      ‘I make similar bonnets, sir.’

      ‘These fingers are that nimble?’ He lifted her hand as though to examine it and she pulled it away, folding her hands together in her lap.

      ‘It is a matter of practice and some natural aptitude. Lady Verity is just as skilled with a needle and has a far more artistic imagination than I,’ Nell said, turning his attention back to his family and taking the opportunity while Verity fetched her latest embroidery to move to sit next to Lady Narborough.

      ‘How proud you must be of your sons,’ she murmured.

      ‘Indeed.’ The countess watched Hal intently. ‘How I wish they would settle, though.’ She sighed, then smiled. ‘Now, Miss Latham, you have an excellent eye for colour. What do you think I should do about the curtains in here? This green has faded sadly and I am not convinced it was the right choice in the first place.’

      Almost an hour later, when the tea tray had been brought in, sounds from the hall heralded Marcus’s return home. Nell was helping her hostess, carrying a cup of tea to Lieutenant Carlow, when the door opened.

      Mr Carlow’s hand was over hers on the saucer, his smile warm as he thanked her, as Marcus came in.

      ‘Hal!’ His smile as he greeted his brother was broad. His eyes as they rested on Nell, were like fresh-split flint.

      Chapter Fourteen

      ‘Hal!’ He had never been happier to see his hellion of a brother, and never been so close to wanting to strangle him. Hal had been in the house, what, a few hours? And there he was, smiling at Nell with that look in his eyes, his fingers all over hers.

      And was she retreating in blushing confusion from a man she must know, with one glance, was a rake? Was she shaken and trembling after what had happened in the folly with him?

      Oh, no. Miss Latham was smiling at his brother. Miss Latham was glowing. Miss Latham had never, he was damned sure, looked better in her life than she did at this moment, her hair gleaming in the candlelight, her skin soft and creamy, her figure admirably displayed by a gown that brought out the green in her eyes. And her mouth, soft and full with that delicious hint of a pout curving in appreciation of whatever outrageous flummery Hal had just spouted. The mouth that had opened under his that morning, the mouth that had trailed fire along his jawline.

      Marcus smiled. Damn it, he knew he was smiling as he strode into the room, hand out to Hal; he could feel the muscles in his cheeks ache. But she had seen something in his face. Nell put the teacup down on a side table and retreated in a whirl of skirts to a seat on the far side of his mother, her eyes cast down, her hands in her lap, the picture of modesty.

      ‘Hal,’ Marcus said again, his fingers closing round the brown hand held out to him as

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