Regency Christmas Vows: The Blanchland Secret / The Mistress of Hanover Square. Anne Herries

dance beautifully,’ Guy said, after they had circled the floor a couple of times in silence. ‘I remember that you were musical even as a child. You used to sing and play most prettily.’

      ‘I do not recall that you were so eager to dance with me in our youth,’ Sarah said, with a slight smile, glad of an innocuous topic of conversation when her thoughts had been anything but innocent. ‘There was one children’s ball at which you spurned me quite ruthlessly, my lord!’

      Guy’s arms tightened momentarily. Looking up, she saw a look of brilliant amusement in his eyes and her heart did a little somersault.

      ‘I had no discernment in my youth,’ he said regretfully, ‘and our parents were forever trying to throw us together. I believe they wished us to make a match of it and naturally enough, I tried to rebel! What boy of sixteen wishes to contemplate matrimony—least of all with a young lady of eleven!’

      ‘Perhaps they were a little misguided—’

      ‘Just premature, I believe, Miss Sheridan!’

      Sarah was vexed with herself for giving him the chance to flirt with her. Just when she had thought they could talk on uncontroversial subjects, he had turned the topic around! He richly deserved a set-down.

      ‘More of your nonsense, sir!’ she said crossly. ‘I am no green girl to be taken in by your flattery!’

      ‘No, indeed,’ Guy agreed amiably, his smile teasing her. ‘I forgot that you had so many years in your dish, Miss Sheridan! My reputation is quite safe with you, is it not?’

      Sarah was rendered momentarily speechless by his impudence. Before she could marshal her thoughts to deliver the cutting remark he deserved, the music whirled to a close.

      Guy bowed. ‘Perhaps you will spare me another dance later, Miss Sheridan?’

      ‘I do not think that would be at all respectable, sir!’ Sarah said pertly, unable to resist. ‘As you have just pointed out, you must have a care for your reputation, and two dances could be considered fast!’

      She saw him smile and knew he would have replied in kind had Amelia not arrived at that moment, bringing with her a very young man who had a hopeful look in his eye.

      ‘Lord Renshaw, pray forgive my interruption,’ Amelia began, ‘but Mr Elliston believes that you may have been serving with his elder brother in Portugal, and is most anxious for any news…’

      Guy bowed. ‘Of course. You must be Richard Elliston’s brother? I remember him well.’ He gestured to the refreshment room. ‘We could talk over a glass of wine if you wish…’

      Young Mr Elliston looked quite overwhelmed at such condescension. Amelia smiled, taking Sarah’s arm and drawing her away.

      ‘He is very kind. Poor Jack Elliston has been quite worried—the family has had no news for nigh on six months!’ She looked closely at Sarah. ‘Are you quite well, my love? Your colour is very high! I do hope you have not taken a chill!’

      ‘I do not believe so.’ Sarah was astonished how calm she sounded when inside she felt quite shaken. For all that she had acquitted herself well enough, flirting with Guy Renshaw was an occupation requiring sterner nerves than hers. No doubt the society ladies who indulged in a little intrigue to relieve the boredom of their marriages were well versed in playing such sophisticated games. She was not, having little or no experience of the art of dalliance.

      ‘Lord Renshaw seems to have been most charming to you,’ Amelia was saying, her voice casual but her gaze alert as she took in Sarah’s becomingly pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. ‘I do believe he is trying to get up a flirtation with you, Sarah!’

      Sarah took a glass of wine gratefully from a passing servant and drank half of it straight away before answering. Amelia’s intent look deepened.

      ‘Sarah! Whatever ails you? Are you sure you are quite well?’

      Sarah laughed and pressed her cousin’s hand. ‘I am feeling very well, I thank you. I believe you must put my uncharacteristic behaviour down to Lord Renshaw’s bad influence!’

      Amelia’s eyes widened to their furthest extent. ‘Gracious, Sarah, how diverting! Surely you have not been encouraging him?’

      ‘Not precisely, but…’ Sarah hesitated ‘…I wonder if I have discouraged him sufficiently? He is, as you say, so very charming that it is difficult to resist…’

      Amelia began to laugh. ‘I should not worry, Sarah! You are scarcely a hardened flirt and Lord Renshaw is experienced enough to know the difference between a lady of easy virtue and a respectable spinster! I am more concerned that your own heart should remain whole!’

      Sarah wrinkled up her nose and reached for her wineglass again. ‘Really, Amelia! Respectable spinster! You make me sound at least sixty and as dull as ditchwater into the bargain!’

      ‘Better to be respectable than give in to Guy Renshaw’s blandishments,’ Amelia said drily. ‘He has a truly terrible reputation, Sarah! Why, Mrs Bunton tells me—’

      ‘Thank you,’ Sarah said hastily. ‘I have already heard her on the subject! I am in no real danger, I assure you, either from his lordship or from my own feelings! I know he can have no serious intentions and will not allow him to progress with any dishonourable ones!’

      A little frown still marred Amelia’s forehead. ‘That is all very well, but it would not do to like him too much!’

      ‘I know.’ Sarah felt a little lurch of the heart as she spoke. Amelia had hit upon the very problem, for she was beginning to like Guy Renshaw very much indeed, and against her better judgement.

      She let Mr Tilbury carry her off for the cotillion, noting that Amelia still looked concerned. She knew that her cousin had her own best interests at heart. Guy Renshaw could not be seen in the light of a suitable connection for a penniless companion. Her ineligibility could only mean that he could have no serious intentions, and designs of a less respectable nature would have to be ruthlessly crushed.

      For a moment, Sarah felt an extraordinary disappointment. Guy’s charm was very potent and Sarah knew that her own inexperience made it difficult for her to treat his admiration lightly. Then there was the peculiar physical attraction he held for her, the like of which she had never even dreamed of, let alone experienced before. For a moment, Sarah let herself imagine being in Guy Renshaw’s embrace, recalling the hard strength of the arms that had held her in the waltz, the ripple of muscles beneath the smooth material of his jacket, the curl of that sensuous mouth…

      Suddenly heated, Sarah felt her body diffuse with warmth and the colour flood into her face. It was fortunate that Mr Tilbury was rather unobservant, for it would have been impossible for him to believe that his own conversation could cause his companion to blush so vividly.

      Sarah tried to concentrate on his observations on the price of coal, furiously castigating herself for allowing her thoughts to wander in so improper a direction. And this was hardly the first time!

      The dance progressed in pedestrian fashion, with none of the zest of the previous waltz.

      Guy was nowhere in sight, perhaps still talking with Mr Elliston, but Sarah noted a knot of people set a little back from the dance floor, with Mrs Bunton at its core. Several of the most influential hostesses in Bath had their heads bent close, their hairpieces waggling, their mouths forming shocked and horrified circles. One of them glanced in Sarah’s direction and looked away again hastily. Sarah frowned. Surely her behaviour with Viscount Renshaw had not caused such scandalised debate? One waltz, even with a notorious rake, hardly constituted a social solecism. Besides, Mrs Bunton had been pushing her own daughter in Guy’s direction only the night before.

      Mr Tilbury addressed another of his remarks to her and Sarah temporarily forgot the group of gossiping matrons. However, she was reminded again swiftly as the dance drew to an end. As Mr Tilbury escorted her from the floor, Mrs Clarke drew her skirts aside and turned her back in the most pointed of snubs. Sarah