No Place For a Lady. Louise Allen

Had he misunderstood? Then he glimpsed a flutter of pale draperies behind one of the pillars of the summerhouse. ‘Bree?’

      ‘In here, my lord. Thank you for coming. I could only hope you would understand my meaning. How is your shoulder?’ Some light reached them from the house where every room blazed with illumination, but it was not intense and he moved close to study her face. Her voice was a touch breathless, but otherwise she was remarkably composed for a young lady in such a compromising position.

      ‘A little sore, but healing well, thank you. I did not expect to find you at such a party. I was having trouble believing my eyes.’

      ‘I was shocked to see you too, although why I cannot imagine—I am sure you must go to endless smart parties. I was being mischievous, I am afraid, teasing you by pretending I was not myself. Then Mr Latymer asked me if I knew you. I should have said yes, in an indifferent way, and he would have thought nothing of it. Then I realised I risked all sorts of embarrassments if you greeted me later. I will warn Piers not to react if he meets you.’

      Max took her by the elbow and steered her to the front of the summerhouse where its arcade overlooked the silent gardens. Bree perched on the balustrade and leant her back on a pillar.

      ‘Your brother is here too?’ How had both the Mallorys inveigled their way in?

      ‘Of course—you do not know who we are. Viscount Farleigh is our half-brother. Our mama married twice. She was the daughter of Lord Grendon, so we have dozens of Grendon cousins—most of them are here tonight. Then, when James’s father died unexpectedly, she married again, for love. It was very romantic—her horse bolted and Papa jumped a five-bar gate on his hunter and galloped after her and snatched her from the saddle. Mama used to say he snatched her heart and never gave it back.

      ‘As you can guess, there was the most frightful row. Mama was only just out of mourning and, although Papa was perfectly respectable and owned land, some of the family had drifted downstream socially. The cousin who was a highwayman was almost an insuperable obstacle, but fortunately—in the opinion of the old viscount—he was hanged just before the wedding, poor man. His grandfather insisted on bringing James up, so we are not at all close.’