Regency Collection 2013 Part 1. Louise Allen

about the weather with Miss Monroe and her beau. ‘Who did he just announce?’

      ‘I am sorry, Miss France, I did not hear. Were you expecting someone?’

      ‘No, no one.’ Shaking her head, Lily made herself concentrate. Miss Monroe was teasing Lieutenant Forrest to organise a picnic party and was begging Lily’s support in convincing him that the weather would hold. She would have to learn to pull herself together if she was going to cope when Jack left London; she could not go on imagining she heard his name when he was not there.

      ‘Miss France?’

      With a gasp Lily turned. Jack was standing just behind her in an immaculate evening suit, his hair rigorously pulled back and tied with a narrow velvet ribbon, his head wound discreetly concealed by a black plaster, which gave him a rakish air.

      ‘Mr Lovell!’

      ‘You are annoyed with me,’ he said smoothly with an apologetic glance towards her companions. ‘I promised to escort Miss France and was then held up at the last minute,’ he explained. Lily smiled weakly and took Jack’s proffered arm, letting him steer her to a bench in an alcove.

      ‘What are you doing here! Miss Monroe must have been wondering why on earth I reacted like that.’

      ‘Which is why I gave a reason for you to be annoyed with me.’

      ‘I am still annoyed with you.’ At least, if he thought that, she had an excuse for her pink cheeks. Her pulse was hammering. ‘Where did you get that suit of clothes?’

      ‘Out of pawn.’

      ‘They are very fine, and really quite modish,’ Lily observed, attempting to keep the rallying note in her voice.

      ‘Thank you. I thought them a necessity for London and then realised almost immediately that the money would be of more use, so I popped them.’

      ‘Popped?’

      ‘Pawned. I can see you have never had to make the acquaintance of your friendly local pawnbroker, Lily!’

      ‘But had you the money to redeem them?’ she worried.

      ‘I risked it on the expectation of your hundred guineas.’

      ‘You know perfectly well we never agreed that,’ she retorted. ‘How much was it?’

      ‘I am not going to tell you, and I can afford it.’ He was watching her with a smile in his eyes that seemed almost affectionate. ‘I was teasing you, Lily. You bristle so charmingly. Now that I am here, how do you want me to act? Shall I flirt with you?’ Oh, yes, please … ‘Or do you want me to stand beside you looking possessive?’ Even better.

      ‘Oh … just pretend to flirt—a little,’ she added hastily. ‘And frighten off unsuitable men.’

      ‘How will I know them to be unsuitable? Will they come with labels? Titled, amiable, gentlemanly behaviour or Merely a baronet, amorous rogue.’

      Lily smothered a laugh, suddenly at her ease with him again. ‘I will signal to you if I need rescuing,’ she promised. ‘Now come and let me introduce you to some of the other guests.’

      Jack is perfect at this, she thought as they circulated. He seems to have put on a society gloss along with the clothes. Where has he learned it? Or perhaps he is simply very observant and a good actor.

      She watched him chatting easily to a group of officers and the thought came to her, that of all the civilian men in the room, he was the one who could best stand comparison with the bearing and air of command that sat so easily on the senior officers.

      He is strong, and he is confident and he is … beautiful. Lily swallowed as a wave of pure longing swept over her. She unfurled her fan and took refuge behind it in the hope of hiding her blushes. He made her feel so wanton, it was outrageous.

      In the hope of regaining some composure, Lily turned away and went to exchange smiling insults with Miss Shillington, an adder-tongued young woman who—for some reason, Lily found amusing—whereas most of her critics merely made her furious.

      ‘My dear Miss France! What a stunning gown! How brave of you to venture out with quite such a weight of beaded trimming; a marvel that you can move at all.’

      ‘I have the advantage of height to carry it off.’ She smiled at Miss Shillington, a good five inches shorter than she. ‘And what an unusual colour your gown is. So challenging to the complexion!’

      ‘I am fortunate that I have not a hint of red in either my hair or my skin,’ Miss Shillington riposted. ‘It is simple for me to maintain a ladylike pallor at all times, whatever colour I wear.’

      Refreshed by their encounter, the two curtsied and passed on. Lily was still smiling when the orchestra struck up for the dancing to begin and she found, much to her surprise, that her hand was being solicited for a flattering number of dances.

      ‘But not the waltzes,’ a voice at her shoulder said as she was consulting her dance card in response to a pressing enquiry by Lord Wolverton. ‘You recall you have promised me two waltzes, Miss France?’

      ‘One waltz, Mr Lovell,’ she said with mock reproof, while the temptation to demand that he dance all of them with her beat at her self-control.

      ‘The last, then.’

      ‘Very well.’ She pencilled it in, conscious that her hand was shaking, and was whisked away by Lord Wolverton into the quadrille.

      Concentrating on her steps, maintaining a easy flow of conversation, all helped keep her mind off Jack, although she was aware that he was not dancing, simply standing with one shoulder propped indolently against a pillar, watching her. Which was highly gratifying.

      She accepted the escort of Captain Eden to supper, enjoyed a blameless flirtation with him, then noticed that Jack had escorted in one of the Miss Wilsons and seemed totally engrossed in her. Perhaps he just did not dance, which did not bode well for a romantic last waltz.

      By the time he came to claim her hand she did not know how to feel. ‘You can dance, can you not?’ she hissed as he led her on to the floor. ‘Only you have sat everything out, and I wondered …’

      Jack’s brow furrowed as he took her in his arms. ‘I have been watching,’ he said with a note of anxiety in his deep voice. ‘It seems easy enough.’

      ‘Jack!’ The music started. There was no escape now without dragging him off the floor, or fleeing. Which was worse? To do that and cause speculation about why, or be a laughing stock as they stumbled around the room?

      Then she realised they were moving, that Jack was dancing with perfect competence and that the beast was smiling at her with eyes brimming with laughter. ‘You horrid man! You let me think—’

      ‘It was irresistible, Lily. You should have seen your face. What do you think we do in the north? Paint ourselves with woad and dance round camp fires? Or do you think the fashions have stuck in the last century and the most à la mode dance we have heard of is the minuet?’

      ‘Woad, of course.’ She was smiling back now, moving within his guiding arms as though she had always danced with him. For a big man he had grace, even if he did not venture any of the more daring turns that made the chaperons tut in disapproval. He certainly had the strength and the confidence to command the floor.

      But more than that, the way he held her, the way he looked at her, made her feel both safe and terrified all at the same time. Lily did not realise that the music had stopped until she found that they were standing still in each others’ arms, their eyes locked. The rest of the couples were beginning to leave the floor.

      ‘I think we had better move,’ Jack remarked, turning and leading her off. ‘Or do you think if we wait they will strike up an encore?’

      Blushing, Lily let him take her off the floor. ‘That is quite my favourite dance tune,’ she improvised in a frantic