Regency Society Collection Part 1. Sarah Mallory

hostess, at his side.’

      ‘It was not my desire to do so.’

      ‘And you have been seen often in his company.’

      ‘For a time,’ she corrected, ‘but no more after tonight. He is nothing singular. I have been seen in the company of many men.’

      His eyebrow arched suggestively.

      ‘I am in your company now. But that does not mean I would invite you to my bed.’

      Of course, if he wished to be there, he would hardly require an invitation. She would be quite helpless to stop him, and perhaps next time he would wish to steal more than a kiss. Once the thought was formed, it showed no intention of fading.

      He was staring at her again, noticing the gap in the conversation. And his smile was definitely a grin. She wished she had not mentioned the bed at all, for if he did not have the idea before, he must surely be thinking of it now.

      She cleared her throat. ‘What I meant to say was, I hope to marry again, and that means I am likely to be seen in the company of gentleman who I think might be of a mind to take a wife.’

      ‘And you chose Barton as a possible husband?’ Smythe’s tone was incredulous and the smile disappeared from his face.

      ‘I sometimes find that the interests of gentlemen are less than worthy. It is a tribute to my naïveté and not my lowered standards.’

      ‘So you and Barton are not…?’ He spoke a trifle too hastily and his hand tightened on her waist.

      ‘He made an offer that had nothing to do with matrimony, and I gave him a set-down. More than once.’ She frowned. ‘At the end of the evening I will probably have to give him another, since he ignored the others. And he tricked me into coming here, for reasons I’d rather not discuss.’

      He blinked down at her and his hand relaxed. He was holding her in the same loose grip as before, as though he was confident that she would stay with him, even if he had no hold on her. ‘Well, then. Perhaps I was misinformed.’

      ‘Most definitely you were.’

      He looked bemused. ‘Then I hope you will not think it too rude when I will ask you to keep the man who is not your lover, though he seems to think he will be, occupied while I pay an unaccompanied visit to his study.’

      ‘And how do you expect me to do that?’

      ‘Use your imagination. A quarter of an hour is all I need and easily worth the hundred guineas I left in your room.’

      The dance came to an end and he led her from the floor. ‘Your Grace, it was an unexpected pleasure. Now, if you will excuse me?’ There was the slightest inclination of his head, which seemed to hint that he had business to attend to, and that the clock was ticking.

      She glanced across the room, and somewhere in the distance a clock chimed the three-quarter hour. Very well, then. She would give him fifteen minutes. It was a small price for the money he had given her. She glanced around the room, searching for Barton, and saw him too close to the stairs that must lead to the study. ‘My lord?’ She had hoped to ask him to dance, and out of the corner of her eye, noticed that the orchestra had chosen that inopportune moment to take refreshment. Very well, then. It was near enough the end of the evening. Now was as good a time as any to retrieve the necklace. ‘If I might speak to you?’

      ‘Certainly, my dear.’ He bowed low over her hand. ‘What is it?’

      She resisted the urge to inform him that she was not now, nor ever wished to be, his dear. ‘In private.’

      ‘My study, then.’ He turned to lead her to the exact place that she did not wish to be.

      ‘Not so private as all that, I think. The garden, perhaps? It is quiet enough there.’

      ‘And most romantic in the moonlight.’

      She bit back another retort. There would be time enough in fifteen minutes to set him straight.

      He took her hand and led her to the balcony doors, and, at the back of her mind, she felt a minute pass. And another, as he led her outside, and down the stone steps to the garden. When they were in the darkness and a distance from the house, he turned to her and smiled. ‘To what do I owe this sudden desire to be alone with me? Have you reconsidered my offer?’

      ‘You know very well the reason. Have I performed to your satisfaction in this little farce?’

      ‘Most admirably. We can make it a regular occurrence, if you wish.’

      ‘But I do not wish,’ she said firmly. ‘I have told you over and over again.’

      ‘And yet, you agreed to do it tonight. And it was a delightful evening. Not so terrible as you made it out to be, I’m sure.’

      ‘There was only one reason I agreed to come, and you know it full well.’

      ‘Ah, the necklace.’ He reached into his pocket, and produced the rubies, holding them in front of her.

      She snatched the thing from his hand and secreted it in her reticule, turning to go back to the house, no longer caring about Smythe and his fifteen minutes.

      Barton’s fingers closed on her upper arm, holding her in place. She attempted to pull away, and he tightened his grip, ever so slightly. To struggle further might leave bruises on her skin. She imagined the shame of going back into the ballroom, the red marks of a man’s fingers already blossoming on her arm.

      She stayed still.

      ‘Willing to stay with me, after all?’

      ‘I do not wish my behaviour to create gossip.’

      He smiled, realising that he’d won again. ‘And why would a rumour frighten you? If I am in the wrong, and you do not wish to be with me, then surely you could appeal to one of the many gentlemen of your acquaintance for assistance?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘But that is right. Many of the gentlemen here have received set-downs from you, have they not? They are likely to be more sympathetic to my plight. Over and over again, you allow men to lead you to the fence, and then you do not jump.’

      ‘That is not the way it has been at all,’ she argued. ‘I had no idea that the gentlemen in question did not intend marriage. Or you, for that matter. I never sought anything less.’

      Barton smiled. ‘How refreshingly naïve you are. I think it is the combination of experience and naïveté that attracts me to you. You believe it is possible to go back to the way things were, before you married, and to have a second chance at a husband and a family. But you will never again be that young and innocent. When men look at you, they know that you are too old to guarantee a first child, but fully ripe for all the pleasures that a man might wish to experience with a woman. When we look at you, my dear, we know that you know precisely what will happen when you are alone with us.’

      He smiled and drew closer. ‘I can see it, even now. The lust sizzles in your eyes. You fear scandal, more than you fear my touch. I can steal a kiss, perhaps a caress in the darkness. These things do not alarm you so much as the thought that someone might catch us at it. I suspect that you would have no problem giving yourself freely, if you could be assured of the discretion of your partner. Take this instance. If you do not submit, you must walk away from me, and I have but to call out and draw attention to the fact that you are with me, or squeeze your arm, ever so slightly.’ He tightened his grip, and then relaxed it again, as he felt her submit. ‘Then people will notice that we were alone together, and there will be even more talk than there already is.’

      ‘People will think you a brute for forcing yourself on a woman.’

      ‘Since the woman is yourself, and you just spent the evening at my side as hostess, I doubt that anyone will assume force. It is far more likely that they will assume you were a willing participant in anything that might have occurred. The assumptions of a curious society will be confirmed, the minute you complain. Or you can allow me to kiss you, here in the dark,