LITMIR.BIZ

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in the hall, ma’am; you will wish to be private.’

      ‘Not at all, Miss Grey, please, come … William, my dear boy! And my favourite nephew as well. Now that is fortuitous, you may both escort me this evening.’

      William, Lord Parry, was twenty years old. Born to a large fortune and rather girlish good looks, he had grown up, much to his mama’s relief, a thoroughly nice, unspoilt young man, if a touch young for his age. A suitable wife would mature him, she was sure; in the meantime she was happy for him to sow his harmless wild oats under the apparently careless eye of his guardian and her trustee, her nephew Lord Arndale.

      William grinned disarmingly at the rallying note in his mother’s voice. ‘Escort you, Mama? Er … I think I am engaged; in fact, I feel sure I am.’

      His companion followed him into the room and came across to take Lady Parry’s hand in his. ‘Aunt Kate.’ He bent to kiss her cheek, a tall dark man in immaculate riding wear. ‘I hope I find you well this morning, ma’am? I am happy to inform you that William has absolutely no engagements of note this evening and will be delighted to escort you to whichever concert of ancient music you have in mind.’

      Lady Parry laughed, ignoring her son’s outraged protestations. ‘No such thing, you wicked man. I would like you both to come with me to Lady Cresset’s soirée. I can promise absolutely no ancient music and several tables set out for cards.’

      Tallie stood stock-still in her corner. Lady Parry’s nephew was none other than the man she had just collided with in the street, the man who had protected her yesterday in the studio. To her horror she realised that Lady Parry had remembered her and had turned on the sofa to look for her.

      ‘Miss Grey, do, please, come and sit down again.’ Tallie hung back in the shadows. ‘Miss Grey was kindly engaged on an errand for me and has had a distressing accident in the street.’

      Both men looked in her direction and Tallie realised there was nothing for it but to emerge. She stepped forward, keeping her eyes down and her hands clasped in front of her.

      ‘Nicholas, this is Miss Grey. Miss Grey, Lord Arndale, my nephew. I believe you have met my son on occasion before now.’

      Tallie dropped a neat curtsy without looking up. Was she blushing again? Her heart was certainly pounding. ‘Lord Arndale, Lord Parry.’

      William Parry stepped forward with the eagerness that typified him. ‘I say, Miss Grey, are you hurt?’

      ‘No, no, not at all, my lord.’

      ‘Perhaps if you were to move, William, Miss Grey could resume her seat,’ Nick Stangate observed drily, watching his cousin with suppressed amusement. ‘I believe this was your chair, Miss Grey?’ He indicated a bergère armchair on which a reticule lay, its drab plainness in startling contrast to the charming toile upholstery fabric.

      ‘Thank you, it is, my lord.’ So, this unusual young woman must be the lady milliner who had been concerning his Aunt Kate to the point where he had felt it necessary, as Lady Parry’s trustee, to take a hand and make some enquiries himself. He should have realised when he ran into her in the street just now and scattered her hatboxes. Doubtless he would have done if his mind had not been preoccupied with another young woman altogether.

      Nick took a seat beside his aunt, which had the effect of bringing him opposite Miss Grey. She was certainly well spoken, and elegant in her deportment and appearance, despite the dreadful gown, unflattering coiffure and downcast eyes. Her present demeanour was in startling contrast to that of the angry girl who had scolded him in the street. She was sitting quite still now, seemingly composed, yet he sensed a desire to burrow backward into the chair cushions out of sight.

      ‘But what happened?’ William was persisting. ‘Are you quite sure you are not injured, Miss Grey? Perhaps we should send for the doctor, Mama.’

      Despite the self-effacing meekness of the slender figure in front of him and the fact that she had spoken hardly a word, Nick was quite certain he knew exactly what the young woman’s problem was. It was not often that his conscience pricked him, but he felt its unfamiliar sting now.

      ‘I believe Miss Grey is wounded in spirits, not in her person. She collided with a gentleman in the street and had the misfortune to choose one who was not only so slow that he allowed her possessions to be crushed under the wheels of a passing carriage, but who then had the impertinence to recompense her for the damage in a way that was, I believe, very ill judged.’

      He felt a stirring of interest as Tallie’s eyes flew to his face. There it was again, that mixture of spirit and—could it be—fear flashing out from behind the subdued front she was presenting.

      ‘Ill judged!’ she snapped, then appeared to recollect herself. He found himself both intrigued and amused. ‘Yes, my lord, you are correct,’ she added softly, and he realised her eyes were on his face, reading what little emotion he allowed to appear there. ‘Although I am sure the gentleman’s actions sprang from a genuine desire to make amends and not from the wish to—shall we say, tease—an inferior.’

      ‘Touché,’ he murmured, enjoying the emerald flash of her eyes. So, Miss Grey, you are prepared to duel, are you?

      ‘Nicholas,’ his aunt demanded, ‘are you the gentleman in question?’

      ‘I have to confess I am, Aunt,’ he admitted, turning slightly to meet her indignant look. ‘And I am justly reproved by Miss Grey. I had no idea that she was a young lady kindly undertaking an errand for you. I mistook her for a milliner’s girl—’

      ‘I am a milliner’s girl, my lord,’ Tallie said in frigidly polite tones. So, Miss Grey was not attempting to presume upon her patroness’s friendly treatment. And she was certainly not going to toady to Lady Parry’s nephew. How refreshing. He let his gaze linger on her face as she continued. ‘If you will excuse me, Lady Parry, you will wish to speak in private to their lordships, I am sure. I will take the undamaged hat upstairs and leave it with your dresser. I will naturally make every effort to have the other one replaced within the week.’

      She stood up, dropped another curtsy to Lady Parry, picked up the hatboxes and walked briskly to the door before Nick could get to his feet and step past her to open it. As she reached for the door handle it turned and Rainbird stepped into the room.

      ‘Mr Hemsley is here to see his lordship, my lady,’ he announced. Nick stopped where he was with an inward flash of irritation. Damn Hemsley; he was showing not the slightest sign of becoming bored with William, despite Nick’s persistently accompanying his cousin to every gambling den and sporting venue that Hemsley invited him to. He had made no attempt to fleece William while Nick was there. Possibly Nick was misjudging him and he was not the Captain Sharp he suspected, but he rather feared the combination of William’s innocence and large fortune and Hemsley’s financial embarrassment and lack of scruple was every bit as dangerous as he thought.

      Either way, he was getting more than a little weary of chaperoning his cousin. Beside anything else, it was putting a decided dampener on the more sophisticated pleasures with which Nick Stangate normally entertained himself when in London.

      Beside him his aunt nodded assent to the butler and Rainbird stood aside and ushered the visitor into the room.

      Nick saw Miss Grey step back, but even so she could not escape coming face to face with the man who was entering the room. Why the devil was she blushing? Nick could see the colour staining her throat from across the room. Damn the man, had he murmured some remark? Could Hemsley not restrain himself from flirting with every woman who crossed his path? He schooled his face, resisting the temptation to take a hand. It was not part of his tactics to cross swords with the man yet.

      ‘Lady Parry, ma’am! A thousand apologies for disturbing you …’

      Flustered, Tallie found herself alone in the hall with Rainbird. ‘I will just go up to Miss Hodgson with this hat, Rainbird.’

      ‘There is no need, Miss Grey, I will have it taken up directly. May I call you a hackney carriage?’

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