Regency Beauty: Beneath the Major's Scars / Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager. Sarah Mallory

of course, it was the first time I had seen him,’ said Maria. ‘But his manners are so polished and he is the son of a viscount. Once he has been to dinner and I have seen him a little more, I am sure I shall grow accustomed.’

      A week went by and Zelah waited hopefully each day for a response to her advertisement for a position as governess. She had written it out in her best copperplate and sent it to the newspaper offices in Barnstaple and Taunton, but no replies were forthcoming.

      ‘Oh, my dear, perhaps it is not meant to be,’ said Maria, when Zelah explained this to her. ‘Can you not content yourself with living here? You know we are very happy to keep you with us.’

      ‘Thank you, Maria, and I love being here as a guest, but it was never my intention to become your pensioner.’

      Maria cried out at that, protesting that she would always be a guest, never a burden, but Zelah had seen Reginald poring over his accounts, she had heard him discussing with Maria the possibility of selling off some of their land to pay for Nicky to attend Mr Netherby’s school. Zelah did not mention it, merely saying cheerfully, ‘I do not despair—tomorrow I shall write another notice and send it off to the newspapers in Bristol and Bath. I am sure someone there must require a governess.’

      ‘I am sure they do, love, but for now let us forget this plan of yours and look forward to this evening. Major Coale is coming to dinner, had you forgotten?’

      Zelah had not forgotten, but for some reason she did not want to admit it and she was glad when her sister continued.

      ‘What will you wear, Zelah, the green robe you had made up last summer?’

      ‘I thought I might put on my grey gown.’

      ‘What?’ Maria sat up, scandalised. ‘That gown has done service for several years now and is very severe. You should save it to wear when you are interviewed by a prospective employer. No,’ she said decisively, ‘you will wear the green and I shall fetch out my Norwich shawl for you to drape over your arms, should the evening turn chilly.’ Maria sighed loudly. ‘There is certainly no reason for you to save your best silk any longer. If you are set upon finding work, then it is not at all suitable for a governess.’

      Zelah hugged her.

      ‘Pray do not be sad for me, dearest sister. I think it is quite exciting, and if I find the children are just too abominable, I shall give it all up and come running home to you!’

      When the dinner hour approached, Zelah ran lightly down to the drawing room, her silk skirts whispering as she moved. She had to admit there was something very uplifting about putting on a pretty dress. Maria had even sent her own maid to put up Zelah’s hair, restraining it by a matching green bandeau and leaving just a few loose curls tumbling artlessly to her shoulders. To complete the picture Zelah threaded a small jade cross on a green ribbon and tied it around her neck.

      ‘There,’ she told her reflection, ‘a picture of simple elegance. What does one need with diamonds and emeralds?’

      The approving looks of her sister and brother-in-law raised her spirits even more and when Major Coale arrived she turned towards the door, her eyes sparkling and a smile of genuine welcome parting her lips.

      Dominic entered the room ready to bow and say all that duty required, but when his eyes alighted upon Zelah Pentewan he stopped, his brain refusing to function. In a matter of seconds he regained his composure, bowing to his host and greeting Mrs Buckland with the usual polite phrases, but all the time his brain was in turmoil.

      He had not been looking forward to the evening. He remembered his first meeting with his hostess, recalled her hesitation and the way her eyes travelled everywhere save to his face. He hoped she would soon recover from the habit, but it did not surprise him. It was always thus with a new acquaintance.

      Except Zelah, who had never shown any reluctance to look at him, save when he teased her or paid her compliments and made her blush. Gazing at her now, he wanted to shower her with compliments, for she looked quite charming. Her gown, which was the colour of new leaves, brought out the green flecks in those expressive eyes that now met his own and a delicate flush mantled her cheeks. She looked genuinely pleased to see him and for a moment his spirits soared.

      It had been a long time since any young woman had smiled at him in quite such a welcoming way, save those he had paid on rare occasions to spend the evening with him in a vain attempt to relieve his loneliness. Dominic quickly damped down his pleasure. Her smiles were nothing more than natural friendliness. No woman could ever be attracted to him now.

      So he retreated into the safety of his perfect society manners and quelled the impulse to hold her fingers an instant longer than was required, or even—as he really wanted—to kiss her hand.

      Dinner should have been a relaxed affair. Maria and Reginald were at pains to put their guest at ease and the major responded with perfect civility. There was very little for Zelah to do other than eat her food and enjoy the sound of his deep, well-modulated voice, yet she could not be easy. Every nerve end ached, her skin was so sensitive she wondered if it was perhaps some kind of fever, but when she touched her own cheek the skin was not unnaturally warm. Zelah wondered at her reaction and finally concluded she had lived retired for too long and had forgotten how to behave amongst strangers.

      At last Maria gave the signal to withdraw and the ladies left the men to their brandy.

      ‘I think it is going exceedingly well,’ said Maria, sinking into a chair and disposing her skirts elegantly around her. ‘Major Coale is very well read and Reginald was right, now that we have been in his company for a while I hardly notice his poor face at all. But you have been very quiet, Zelah my love. I would have thought the major’s knowledge of art and literature would have made him an interesting guest for you.’

      ‘He is—that is, the conversation was flowing so well I didn’t like to—I mean, I could find nothing to add.’

      ‘That is most unlike you, little sister.’ Maria patted her cheek. ‘I do believe you are a little shy of the major, but there is no need. Indeed, you should know him better than any of us. You must try to be a little more sociable. I assure you, Zelah, you have nothing to fear. He is perfectly harmless.’

      But Major Coale did not feel perfectly harmless. Zelah could not explain it. Part of her wanted to stay near him, to engage him in conversation and at the same time she wanted to run away. It was most confusing.

      When the gentlemen came in she was prepared to make an effort to join in, but they were getting on so well that the conversation flowed quite easily without any contribution from herself and she remained beside her sister, a relieved and silent observer. Maria, however, was determined that she should participate more and when the tea tray was brought in she handed two cups to Zelah, instructing her to carry one to their guest.

      Bracing herself, Zelah moved across the room. Major Coale accepted the cup with a word of thanks, adding, as Reginald lounged away and they were left alone, ‘Buckland tells me Nicky is to go to school.’

      ‘Yes. Mr Netherby teaches a small group of boys for a few hours each day and he has agreed to take him. It is as much for the company as anything.’

      ‘And when does he start?’

      ‘As soon as he is walking again, which should not be long now, he is making good progress.’

      She sipped at her tea, trying to think of something to say. She wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, but that would be most improper, and unfortunately, everything else that came to mind was connected to their having dined together, a fact that must remain secret.

      ‘You are very quiet this evening, Miss Pentewan. Why is that? I know you are not afraid of me.’

      The glinting smile in his eyes drew an answering gleam from her.

      ‘Not when I was on your land, certainly. But here …’ she glanced around ‘… I fear I am less at ease with you in these more formal surroundings.’

      ‘That is singular—if