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Miss Gower and thinking about how shallow it was to worry about such a little thing as old gowns or muddy hatboxes when someone for whom you have affection and respect is reaching the end of their life.’

      ‘And you had no idea of her intentions towards you?’ He reined in to allow an old-fashioned closed carriage to draw away from the kerbside, then let the bays ease back into a trot, watchfully negotiating the Bond Street traffic.

      ‘Why, no, not the slightest hint. It is so improbable, so like a fairy story I still cannot believe it.’

      There was a hint of laughter in his voice as he said, ‘Miss Gower as the fairy godmother—yes, I can imagine her in that role, wearing one of those outrageous hats you used to make for her.’

      ‘She liked them as pretty as they could be,’ Tallie said defensively. ‘I am glad she saw the last one I made for her; it was quite impossibly pink with as much ruched silk ribbon as I could fit under the brim and a big rose.’

      ‘I saw it,’ Nick assured her. ‘She had it on the stand by her bed and showed it off to all her visitors—’ He broke off, then added, ‘Do you have a handkerchief?’

      ‘I am so sorry.’ Tallie scrabbled in her reticule and blew her nose. ‘You must think me a positive watering pot, I seem to be weeping on virtually every occasion we meet.’

      ‘Not at all. No one can help their eyes watering after a blow to the … er, middle, and to shed a tear at the reading of a will is a most natural reaction, I am sure.’

      He sounded indifferent rather than sympathetic and Tallie, who had began to warm to him for telling her about Miss Gower’s hat, frowned.

      ‘So my aunt persuaded you to come and stay in Bruton Street?’ he observed as they crossed Oxford Street.

      ‘Yes,’ Tallie agreed, flushing at the coolness in his tone. ‘Do you not feel that is a good idea?’

      ‘I am sure it will be very much to your benefit.’

      Was she imagining the slight emphasis on your? ‘You feel I am not a suitable person for Lady Kate to sponsor?’ she asked, keeping the anger out of her voice with an effort. ‘You think perhaps I am not who I purport to be? Or perhaps you object to my employment at Madame d’Aunay’s?’

      Nick shot her a hard glance. ‘I know that you are precisely who you say you are,’ he replied. ‘I made it my business to find out. And I am sure that your employment as a milliner has been entirely respectable.’

      The furious retort that rose to Tallie’s lips went unspoken. Of course he had to check on her, he was his aunt’s trustee. It was his duty to protect his widowed relative. How was Lord Arndale to know that she was not an adventuress, ready to prey upon Lady Kate’s kind heart, or someone who would bring scandal to the household?

      Then as they crossed Weymouth Street into Upper Wimpole Street her heart seemed to stop with a sickening jolt. But she was just such a person! She had kept her shocking secret about Mr Harland’s studio because she had feared disgrace and being branded immoral. But what would be simply a personal shame to a young milliner would be an utter scandal if it was exposed in the household of a Society lady.

      Tallie realised that Nick had asked her a question. ‘I am sorry, you said something?’ Was her voice shaking?

      ‘I asked if I am correct in saying it is the house just here on the left with the green front door?’

      ‘Yes.’ Of course he knew the address, he must have been checking on all of her circumstances and connections. He would know all about the humble lodging-house and its inhabitants and the fact that they were women earning their own way in the world. Did he know about Mr Harland? Surely not, he would have mentioned something as scandalous as that.

      Nick reined in the horses and half-turned on the seat to look at her. ‘Are you quite well, Miss Grey?’

      ‘Yes. Yes, of course, my lord.’ He looked at her for a long minute; Tallie stared back defiantly, expecting to see that cold grey, inquisitorial look in his eyes, but all they revealed was a concern and a warmth that completely unsettled her. The events of the day had overwhelmed her other senses and perceptions; now she was aware of him again as a man, a disturbing physical presence and an unreadable intelligence.

      Behind her she was vaguely aware of the front door opening, but her eyes seemed locked with Nick’s.

      ‘Tallie! Thank good … I mean, Miss Grey, you are home.’ It was Zenna, sounding uncharacteristically flurried. Tallie turned in her seat, conscious of a strange feeling; part relief, part resentment.

      ‘Zenna! Please will you give me a hand down? I am sure his lordship will not want to let go his reins.’ Zenna hurried down the steps and stretched up a hand while Tallie jumped down. ‘My lord, may I introduce my friend? Zenobia, this is Lord Arndale, who has kindly driven me back from Lady Parry’s. My lord, Miss Scott.’

      Lord Arndale raised his hat. ‘Miss Scott, good afternoon. Miss Grey, I will send details of a bank that I can recommend; should you wish me to accompany you to their offices, I am entirely at your disposal.’

      Tallie tried to order her thoughts and behave like a young lady for whom a banker was a necessary adjunct to everyday life. Beside her Zenna was waiting silently; Tallie could feel the waves of antipathy coming from her like the heat from a fire.

      Startled, she glanced from Nick Stangate to her friend. He was sitting patiently awaiting her reply, his gaze resting on the two plainly clad young women. Tallie was beginning to be able to interpret his apparently indifferent regard; it appeared Zenna was able to do instinctively. There was assessment in those grey eyes regarding them—assessment and disapproval.

      She collected her straying thoughts and said politely, ‘Thank you, my lord, that would be most kind. Good day.’ She dropped the slightest of curtsies and turned to mount the steps. ‘Are you returning inside, Miss Scott?’

      As the door closed behind them, cutting off the sound of Lord Arndale’s carriage wheels on the cobbles, Zenna said furiously, ‘Insufferable man! Is he the one who …?’

      ‘Yes, Lady Parry’s nephew, as I told you the other day. But why do you say he is insufferable?’

      Tallie took off her bonnet and gloves and followed the still fuming Zenna into the parlour. His regard had certainly been cool, but Zenna’s life as a governess had inured her to snubs and she had always seemed to shrug them off.

      Zenna appeared flustered, then she said slowly, ‘I really do not know, but something in his regard infuriated me. I could feel my hair rising like a cat seeing a dog!’ She brooded for a moment. ‘I have it: he disapproves of me as your friend, not in principle. He does not like seeing you on good terms with a humble governess.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Tallie retorted. ‘I am a humble milliner, if it comes to that.’ Not for much longer, an inner voice reminded her. ‘And in any case, what is it to Lord Arndale what company I keep?’ Even as she said it, the thought intruded that as his aunt’s trustee Nick Stangate had every legitimate interest in the company she kept—and that included Miss Grey’s friends.

      ‘Do have a care, Tallie, I am so worried about Millie; the thought that both of you might be the prey of rakes is too worrying to contemplate!’

      ‘Lord Arndale’s interest in me and my connections has nothing to do with any amorous intentions, I can assure you.’ Tallie allowed herself one flickering moment’s contemplation of being the object of such desires and hastily suppressed the thought. ‘I will explain it all in a minute—but do tell me what is so concerning you about Millie.’

      Zenna paced around the room, too agitated to join her friend on the sofa. ‘I walked back from the Lang-ton house across the Park and there was Millie, with no female companion at all, arm in arm with this man.’

      ‘He may have been a perfectly respectable admirer.’

      ‘You know as well as I that,

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