A Regency Earl's Pleasure: The Earl Plays With Fire / Society's Most Scandalous Rake. Isabelle Goddard

served refreshments.

      Christabel, her mother and sister were soon ensconced on its terrace, sitting comfortably on a padded chaise and gratefully sipping tea. Servants bustled to and fro, some bringing additional cushions and blankets for the older members of the group, and others plates of dainty sandwiches and small iced cakes. Sophia made ready to plunder the dish of madeleines left temptingly on their table.

      ‘What a beautiful place,’ her mother murmured to her hostess as she passed by. ‘And such a wonderful day!’

      ‘Indeed—it seems that summer is already with us!’ Lady Wivenhoe happily mingled among the knot of people gathered on the terrace.

      Christabel hardly heard them. The cream muslin gown she wore, trimmed with delicate chartreuse lace, might pay homage to the season, but her spirits remained locked in winter. She felt frozen in time, yet her mind was never still, never at peace. She thought she might be going mad. For the hundredth time she tried to understand why in that faraway summer she’d acted as she had. Richard had meant so much to her and yet, with hardly a thought, it seemed, she’d returned his ring and thrown herself at a man who even then she’d suspected was not to be trusted. Why, oh, why had she done that? Only the intoxication of first sexual awakening could explain the wilful breaking into pieces of the jigsaw of her life. But it was not quite the first awakening, was it? There was that evening in Cornwall when she and Richard had thrown themselves into the sea together. They’d been just a little crazy and the swim had sparked something deep and elemental between them, or so she’d thought. But almost immediately he’d turned away. He’d not wanted that intimate bond and she’d been left bewildered, ashamed of the physical ache that had taken hold of her. And then the trip to London with all its glamour, all its glories, had pushed everything else out of her mind. Joshua had swum into her presence, a man who was more than willing to set her body alight. She had loved him dreadfully. No, she corrected herself, she had lusted for him dreadfully. And lust had its own shameful penance. She thought she’d paid that price, but now, it seemed, she must continue to pay.

      In the distance she could see Domino laughing and prattling with Richard. On occasions he responded in a similar vein, but there was a serious expression on his face which seemed at odds with the frolicking of his younger companion. At length the girl seemed to grow tired of entertaining him and turned to Benedict, who had just then emerged at her side and was making ready to reintroduce himself. When the two young people began to stroll together across the greensward towards King Henry’s mound, the highest point of the park, Christabel thought that Richard looked almost relieved. How strange. But she’d probably imagined it.

      Sophia, meanwhile, was maintaining a critical commentary on her fellow guests as they strolled along the intersecting pathways which met at the pagoda.

      As each new costume passed beneath the balcony, it duly received the full force of her disapproval. Her own ensemble had attracted a mixed response and she was still smarting from some of the remarks she’d overheard. Her mother, anxious to restore her to good spirits, extended a comforting arm but in doing so caught her hand in the intricate pattern of the lace tablecloth and spilled the contents of her teacup on to the disputed outfit.

      ‘Mama, just look what you’ve done—how clumsy!’

      ‘I am sorry for the accident, Sophia, but your rudeness does you no credit,’ her mother reproved.

      For once Sophia looked abashed. Her nerves were on end. She had dreamed of making her mark in ton society, but so far society had shown an entire lack of interest. This morning she had tried particularly hard with her toilette, but it appeared that this effort was still not enough. To add to her misery her elder sister sat next to her, seemingly serene and unruffled, but looking effortlessly lovely and attracting frequent glances of open admiration from the other guests.

      ‘Come with me,’ Lady Tallis urged, making for the small cloakroom at the rear of the pagoda, ‘we must sponge your dress immediately.’

      Sophia trailed miserably behind her and Christabel was left alone with her thoughts. But not for long.

      The sound of firm footsteps on the stairway leading to the balcony made her look up.

      ‘I trust I see you well, Miss Tallis.’

      ‘Thank you, Lord Veryan, I am most well,’ she answered curtly.

      ‘And how are you enjoying Richmond Park?’ he pursued.

      ‘It is very beautiful.’

      ‘You have seen it only by carriage? It is even better viewed at close quarters.’

      She nodded briefly, but said nothing, averting her glance. His shapely legs encased in well-fitting breeches and riding boots of dazzling gloss were an unnecessary distraction.

      ‘If you would care to take a stroll, I would be happy to escort you.’ He was smiling and for once the grey eyes smiled with him.

      ‘Thank you, but I have already walked a distance around the park,’ she lied.

      ‘Then you are before me.’ A slight flush crept into his lean cheek as he recognised the snub.

      ‘It would appear so.’

      He had been studying her from a distance, seen the sadness in her face and felt his determination waver. But her flagrant rejection of courtesies hardened his heart again and spurred him once more into attack.

      ‘I’m surprised by your energy. I would have thought you had little left after last night’s magnificent display of dancing.’

      ‘I am not such a poor creature.’ And the flash in the emerald eyes was unmistakable. He remembered well that indomitable spirit and once more his heart softened a little.

      ‘You were never a poor creature, Miss Tallis,’ he said quietly. ‘Far from it, as I recall. I still have the scars to prove it!’

      She looked at him, surprised.

      ‘I spent my childhood following you,’ he offered. ‘Jumping rocks, climbing trees, hacking my way through woods. It was a tough training.’

      Her face broke into the shadow of a smile, the troubles of the present for the moment cast aside.

      ‘And were you always the follower?’

      ‘Always. I rarely saw more than a tangle of red curls in the distance.’

      Her smile broadened. ‘I was always that far ahead?’

      He looked quizzically at her. ‘There were times when I got to see the back of two skinny brown legs, but never much more.’

      ‘Why did you follow me if it meant suffering scars?’

      ‘Why wouldn’t I? Life was a daily adventure and the scars were simple ones. Childhood was the easy part. It was growing up that was difficult.’

      Her smile vanished. ‘How sad it is that we cannot stay children,’ she almost blurted out.

      ‘Unfortunately we cannot. Nor can we undo life.’

      ‘But surely we can start again.’ Their reminiscence had emboldened her and her voice now held a definite plea.

      ‘I fear not,’ he said sternly. ‘We are prisoners of the life we make and we must live with that knowledge.’ His face had entirely lost its earlier warmth.

      ‘I cannot agree,’ she said vehemently. ‘That would be to underestimate the human spirit and its capacity for change.’

      ‘I have never underestimated you, Miss Tallis.’

      His words were oblique, but she knew well their meaning. Nothing had altered and she felt sick to her stomach. He was still her implacable enemy.

      ‘Nor I you, Lord Veryan,’ she managed at last.

      ‘It seems that we are agreed on one thing at least.’

      ‘It matters not to me whether we agree or disagree. If you will excuse me …’