The Regency Season: Blackmailed Brides. Sarah Mallory

he brought his hands back and put them over hers, pulling her fingers from his lapels.

      He said coldly, ‘Please do not throw yourself at me, Miss Halbrook. That might be how one conducts oneself in your world, but at Adversane we expect a little more decorum.’

      Her face flamed, those green eyes lost their shy smile and darkened with hurt and bewilderment. Damnation, why had he not cut his tongue out before allowing himself to utter such words? She had put out her hands to steady herself, he knew that, but he had been thrown off balance by the hunger that had slammed through him when she was in his arms. He had not known such strength of feeling since the heady days of his youth and, unnerved, he had attacked her cruelly, coldly, in a manner designed to depress any pretensions she might have.

      These were the thoughts of an instant. He felt as if time had stopped, but it could only have been a moment. He said quickly, ‘I should not have spoken so. It was unforgivable—’

      But she was already backing away from him, her cheeks now white as chalk, and her hands raised before her, as if to ward him off.

      ‘No, no, you are quite right. I beg your pardon.’

      Her voice was little more than a thread. She turned and hurried away, head high. He should go after her, tell her it was not her fault, that the blame was all his, but he did not move. What could he say? That he had lost control? That he had suddenly been overwhelmed with the desire to ravish her? She was an employee, here for a purpose. If she thought him in any way attracted to her it would compromise her position. She would be unable to play her part for fear of the consequences. All his planning would come to naught.

      Ralph watched her walk through the arched entrance and out of sight. Only then did he move, striding into the stables, stripping off his coat as he went. He made his way to Jupiter’s stall and tossed his coat over the partition. He would rub down the horse himself, brush the black coat until it shone and then he would put his head under the pump in the yard. After that he thought he might just be able to face meeting Lucy Halbrook at the dinner table.

       Chapter Four

      ‘I will not cry.’

      Lucy kept repeating the words to herself as she made her way back to her room. She kept her head up, teeth firmly biting into her lip to offset the bitter shame and revulsion that brought hot, angry tears to clog her throat and prickle behind her eyes.

      They had been getting on so well, it had been the most perfect outing until Adversane had lifted her down and she had lost her balance. She had been exhilarated, in love with the whole world, and when she had put her hands against his chest to steady herself she had had no thought other than to laugh and apologise for being a little giddy.

      Then she had looked up into his slate-grey eyes and her world had fallen apart. Her foolishly heightened sense had thought that he had taken her in his arms instead of trying to hold her upright, and she had imagined such a look that it had turned her bones to water. Instead of being able to stand up straight, she had been in even greater danger of falling over and had clutched at his coat like a drowning man might cling to a wooden spar. In her silly, dizzy brain she had thought herself a princess about to be kissed by her fairy-tale prince. That, of course, was pure foolishness. No one, absolutely no one, would ever think of the saturnine Lord Adversane as a prince.

      ‘At least he is not a rake,’ she muttered as she ran up the grand staircase. ‘You were standing there, looking up at him, positively inviting him to seduce you. Thankfully he is too much of a gentleman for that.’

      She flinched as she remembered his reprimand, but it was justified. In fact, she would be very fortunate if he did not pack her off back to London immediately.

      * * *

      She went down to the drawing room before dinner in a state of nervous apprehension. When Ariadne asked her if she had enjoyed her ride, she answered yes, but hurriedly changed the subject, and when Lord Adversane came in she retired to a chair by the window and hoped that if she kept very still he would not notice her.

      It seemed to work. Apart from an infinitesimal bow Lord Adversane ignored her until dinner was announced, when he gave his arm to his cousin. Lucy was left to follow on as best she might. Thankfully, Mrs Dean was never short of small talk at the dinner table. She chattered on, rarely requiring a response, while Byrne kept the wineglasses filled and oversaw the elaborate ritual of bringing in and removing a bewildering array of delectable foods. Lucy was too unhappy to be hungry and ate almost nothing from the dishes immediately before her. She was pushing a little pile of rice about her plate when Byrne appeared at her elbow with a silver tray.

      He said quietly, ‘His lordship recommends the salmon in wine, miss, and begs that you will try it.’

      Lucy glanced along the table. Lord Adversane was watching her, unsmiling, but when he caught her eye he gave a little nod of encouragement. She allowed the butler to spoon a little of the salmon and the sauce onto her plate. It was indeed delicious and she directed another look towards her host, hoping to convey her gratitude. Her tentative smile was received with another small but definite nod. Whether it was that, or the effects of the food, she suddenly felt a little better.

      When dinner was over the ladies moved to the drawing room. Having boasted earlier of her stamina, Lucy did not feel she could retire before Lord Adversane joined them. Mrs Dean settled herself on one of the satin-covered sofas but Lucy could not sit still. To disguise her restlessness she pretended to study the room. There was plenty to occupy her: the walls were covered with old masters and the ornate carving of the overmantel was worthy of close attention. Adversane did not linger over his brandy and soon came in. He made no attempt to engage Lucy in conversation and took a seat near his cousin, politely inviting her to tell him about her day. Ariadne needed no second bidding and launched into a long and convoluted description of her activities.

      It was a balmy evening, and the long windows were thrown wide, allowing the desultory birdsong to drift in on the warm air. Lucy slipped out onto the terrace. The sun was dipping but was still some way from the horizon and she could feel its heat reflecting from the stone walls of the house. The earlier breeze had dropped away and a peaceful stillness had settled over the gardens spread out before her, the statuary and flowerbeds leading the eye on to the trees in the distance and, beyond them, the faint misty edge of the high moors. Lucy drank in the scene, trying to store every detail in her memory. She suspected such summer evenings were rare in the north and she wanted to remember this one.

      It was very quiet in the drawing room and she wondered perhaps if Lord Adversane had had enough of his cousin’s inconsequential chatter and retired. She stepped back into the room, and gave a little start when she realised that it was Mrs Dean who was missing. Her host was standing by the empty fireplace.

      ‘You are very quiet this evening, Miss Halbrook.’

      She sat down and folded her hands in her lap. She must take this opportunity to say what was on her mind.

      ‘I was wondering, my lord, if you wished me to leave. If I go now there is still time for you to find someone else.’

      ‘Do you wish to go?’

      She shook her head. ‘My circumstances have not changed. I am still in need of employment.’

      ‘And I am still in need of a fiancée. It seems logical, therefore, that we should continue.’ He paused. ‘You are smiling, Miss Halbrook. Have I said something to amuse you?’

      ‘You make it all sound so simple. A mere business arrangement.’

      ‘Which is what it is.’

      She looked down at her hands.

      ‘But this afternoon, in the stable yard—’

      ‘A little misunderstanding,’ he interposed. ‘Brought on by the excitement of the ride. It will not be allowed to happen again.’

      ‘No, my lord?’

      ‘You sound sceptical.’