The Major Meets His Match. Annie Burrows

that should take the wind from his sails.

      ‘Surely not. Or—’ A frown flitted across his face. ‘Is your duenna compelling you to wear gowns of her choosing?’

      ‘I wish I could say you were correct. But this display of poor taste is entirely my own doing,’ she said.

      ‘You are deliberately making yourself look ridiculous?’

      Far from looking shocked, or disapproving, Lord Becconsall only appeared intrigued.

      But the necessity of taking her place in line, and dipping a curtsy as the first strains of music blared, prevented either of them from saying anything further. Which made her grind her teeth. Because of course she had not been deliberately trying to make herself look ridiculous. She’d just never had the chance to spend whatever she wanted on clothes, that was all. And it was only with hindsight that she’d seen that modelling her wardrobe so slavishly on Kitty’s, who had always looked so fashionable and pretty whenever she’d come to visit, had been a mistake.

      But from now on, she was going to ask the modiste, and her aunt—and, yes, even Kitty—if the styles and fabrics she was choosing actually suited her.

      For some time the intricacies of the dance meant that he could only take jabs at her during the few seconds during which they passed or circled each other. Jabs which she could deflect by looking blank, then twirling away as though she hadn’t heard them.

      ‘You are supposed to smile at your partner, just occasionally, you know,’ he informed her at one point.

      ‘I might do so were I dancing with someone I liked,’ she snapped back.

      ‘Tut, tut, Lady Harriet,’ he said dolefully. ‘You gave me to believe you wished above all things to dance with me.’

      ‘You know very well I had to say that,’ she hissed at him.

      ‘Do I?’ He looked thoughtful for a few measures. And then, with a devilish gleam in his eyes, asked her, ‘Would you mind explaining why?’

      ‘You know why.’

      He widened his eyes in a look of puzzled innocence. ‘But...how can you have changed your opinion of me so completely? Last time we met, you flung yourself into my arms—’

      ‘I did no such thing,’ she hissed at him. ‘You...grabbed me—’

      ‘You put up no resistance, however. And you appeared to be enjoying the interlude as much as I did.’

      Well, what could she say to that? Though he was wicked to remind her that she’d behaved with dreadful impropriety, he’d also admitted to enjoying kissing her. Which went a good way to soothing the sting imparted by his taunts. As well as doing something to her insides.

      The same sort of something his kiss had done to them, actually.

      ‘No riposte?’ He sighed, looking almost disappointed. ‘I was so sure you would waste no opportunity to give me a tongue lashing.’

      Since he looked at her mouth with a wistful expression as he said this, she couldn’t help licking her lips. And recalling the way his own tongue had probed at them, seeking entrance. Which made her unable to tear her eyes away from his mouth.

      She cannoned into the lady to her right.

      This was a disaster! Almost the first time she’d actually got on to a dance floor and he was ruining it by saying things that made her forget where she was, or which direction she was supposed to be hopping in.

      ‘You are determined to humiliate me, aren’t you?’ she said, next time they drew close enough for him to hear her.

      ‘I have no need.’ He chuckled. ‘You are doing an admirable job of it all on your own, what with the clothes and the scowls, and the growls and the missteps.’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot believe you are related to Major Inskip.’

      Her head flew up. ‘You know George? But you just said you didn’t.’

      He shrugged as he whirled away from her to promenade up the outside of the set. By the time she reached the head of it on the ladies’ side, she was seething with impatience.

      ‘Well?’

      ‘I only said cavalry officers don’t normally hobnob with the infantry. I didn’t say I didn’t know him. Though, to be precise, I only know him by sight.’ He eyed her with amusement before adding, ‘And what a sight he is to behold.’

      She flushed angrily. George was, indeed, very often a sight to behold. For he had his uniforms made by a top tailor, out of the finest fabrics, and never looked better than when mounted on one of his extremely expensive horses. From which he did tend to look down his aristocratic nose at the rest of the world. Including her. And to her chagrin, although he’d always used to concede she was a bruising rider when they’d been much younger, the last few times he’d come home there had been a touch of disdain about his lips whenever his eyes had rested on her. Which had also, she now saw, influenced her decision to buy the most elaborate and costly gowns she could.

      ‘What, no pithy retort?’ Ulysses shook his head in mock reproof. ‘I am disappointed.’

      ‘Yes, well, that’s the thing with swooping to someone’s rescue, isn’t it? They do tend to do things you didn’t expect and make you wish you hadn’t bothered.’

      He threw back his head and laughed.

      ‘Touché!’

      She glowered at him. Far from showing the slightest sign of contrition, he was clearly thoroughly enjoying himself. At her expense.

      ‘Come, come, don’t look at me like that,’ he said. ‘I conceded the point. And far from being sorry I swooped, I have to admit I am glad I did so. No, truly,’ he said, just as he whirled away from her.

      ‘Well, I’m not,’ she said as the interminable music finally gasped its last and everyone bowed or curtsied to everyone else in their set. ‘I’m tired of being baited.’ At least, she would very soon be if he kept this up for any length of time. It was just one more vexation she was going to have to endure. On top of everything else she was struggling with, it felt like the last straw. ‘Why don’t you just get it over with? Hmm? Go on. Tell Lady Tarbrook where you found me, two weeks ago, and what we were doing. And then...’

      Her mind raced over Aunt Susan’s inevitable disappointment and her tears, and the scolding and the punishment. Which might well, if Uncle Hugo had anything to do with it, involve being sent back to Stone Court.

      Which would mean her ordeal by London society would come to an end.

      Which would be a relief, in a way.

      At first. But then she’d have to live, for the rest of her life, with the knowledge that she’d failed. Which she most emphatically did not wish to do.

      She lifted her head to stare at Lord Becconsall who, though being thoroughly annoying, had at least made her see that she was nowhere near ready to throw in the towel.

      He was shaking his head. ‘I don’t know what I have done to make you think I would behave in such a scaly fashion,’ he said.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Only that I would never betray a lady’s secrets.’

      ‘Not if it didn’t suit your schemes, no,’ she said uncharitably.

      Which made him look a bit cross.

      ‘It wouldn’t be in either of our interests for anyone else to hear about that kiss,’ he snapped. And then went very still. And then he turned a devilish grin in her direction.

      ‘I’m beginning to wonder,’ he said, leaning close and lowering his voice to a murmur, ‘if you aren’t playing a similar kind of game to mine.’

      ‘Game?’

      ‘Oh, very nicely done. That touch of baffled innocence would have