A Regency Rake's Redemption. Louise Allen

the ache to sheathe himself in her tight, wet heat.

      Perhaps he had been worrying unnecessarily and she was sophisticated enough for these kind of games. He would wait and see.

      Some of the passengers had begun to dance a country jig. Alistair caught Dita’s hand and almost ran down to join them, whirling her into the end of the line next to the elder Miss Whyton and Lieutenant Tompkins.

      ‘Mistletoe!’ Miss Whyton cried as Dita was spun past her, on down between the row of dancers by the lieutenant. ‘Wherever did you get that?’

      But she was safely down to the other end now and Alistair made himself focus on the steps as he caught her hands and waited for their turn to dance to the other end.

      By the time the fiddler drew out the last chord everyone was flushed and laughing, the ladies fanning themselves, the men pretending to pant with exertion. Alistair saw Callum Chatterton admire Dita’s hair ornament and then snatch a kiss, followed by his brother. A positive queue of gentlemen formed.

      ‘I will lend it to you,’ Dita said to Daniel, ‘and then you may go and make mischief.’

      Averil began to unfasten it for her, then stopped, the spray in her hands, and stared. Alistair strolled a little closer.

      ‘But these berries are pearls, Dita! Real pearls—you could make an entire necklace there are so many.’

      Callum took the spray out of her hands and turned it close in front of his eyes. ‘And fine ones at that. You should have them locked in the strongbox, Lady Perdita, not be dancing a jig on the open deck in something this valuable.’

      ‘How lovely they are.’ Mrs Bastable came over to join the group, her arm linked through that of her taciturn husband. ‘But you ought to replace the pearls with glass beads, for safety. Who gave them to you, dear?’

      ‘Someone I was friends with a long time ago.’ Dita said. ‘I don’t think I know him any more.’ She looked up from the mistletoe and caught Alistair looking at her. Her eyes were bleak. ‘Excuse me. I will take your advice and lock them away.’

      Alistair held the door to the cuddy open for her and she paused on the threshold. ‘I would have lain with you for glass beads, or none,’ she said in a vehement whisper. ‘You had no need to buy me with pearls. I am not a professional. Nor am I an innocent girl who has no idea what is happening when a man kisses her. Don’t behave as though we have just done something regrettable; something silly. If you want someone to patronise, go and flirt with Dotty Whyton.’

      ‘Damn it!’ The accusation was so unfair, and yet such an accurate stab at his conscience, that Alistair let go of the door and it slammed, shutting them off from the others.

      ‘Give them back, then,’ he said, smiling, not troubling to keep that devil out of his eyes.

      ‘No.’ She put up her chin. ‘I shall keep them to remind myself of the folly of passion. They will make a very lovely necklace.’

      They were fortunate with the weather, everyone agreed. The wind held, the storms were not severe and they reached Cape Town a week ahead of Captain Archibald’s most optimistic prediction.

      ‘I will be so glad to stretch my legs on a surface that does not go up and down,’ Averil said as she tied her bonnet ribbons under her chin and tried to see the result in the small mirror that hung on her wall.

      ‘The land will go up and down just as much as the ship seemed to,’ Dita told her from her perch on Averil’s bunk. ‘You have got your sea legs now. What do you intend to do today? The captain says we have two days here.’

      ‘Lord Lyndon has asked me to form one of a party going to the Company’s gardens. Apparently they have the most wonderful collection from all over the world, and a menagerie as well. But surely he has asked you, too?’

      ‘He did, but I have shopping to do, so I refused.’ Dita met Averil’s questioning gaze with a look of bright interest. ‘I saw the gardens on my way out. They are very fine—you will enjoy yourself.’

      ‘I am sure I will.’ Averil stuck a hatpin in her pincushion and fidgeted about tidying her things. Dita waited for the next question.

      ‘Shopping for two days?’

      ‘I have something to take to the jewellers and then I must collect it the next day.’

      ‘Is there something wrong between you and Lord Lyndon?’ Averil went slightly pink; she was not given to intrusive personal questions.

      ‘Yes,’ Dita said. There was no point in lying about it.

      ‘Since Christmas Eve.’ Averil nodded to herself. ‘That is what I guessed. Whatever is the matter?’

      ‘We had a … a misunderstanding.’ Or, at least, I misunderstood. I thought he cared for me and wanted to make love to me because of that. How naive! He wanted to make love and so he seemed to care and once he had, then he was all cool practicality. It was a mercy he had held back from entering her. She was shamefully aware that she would not have stopped him.

      ‘I thought you liked him very well.’

      ‘I do … did. I find him too … attractive for prudence with a man like that.’

      ‘Oh.’ Averil fiddled some more, dropped her gloves and blurted out, ‘Did he overstep the mark?’

      ‘Overstep it? Yes, I think you could say he over-leapt it. I should have known better—’ Dita broke off, but the sound she heard had been from above their heads, not from anyone returning to the roundhouse, and the windows were closed.

      ‘Dita—you didn’t sleep with him?’

      ‘Absolutely no sleeping occurred. Oh, I am sorry, I should not be so flippant. No, if you mean did anything occur that might lead to, say, pregnancy. I was more intimate with him than I should have been, and, it is fair to say, we are both regretting that now.’

      ‘So he kissed you very passionately?’ Dita reminded herself that Averil was a virgin, and a well-behaved one at that, and nodded. ‘But if you are both regretting it, could you not put it behind you now?’

      ‘It is one thing both of you regretting something at the same time,’ Dita said, jamming her own hat on her head as she got to her feet. ‘That indeed might lead to eventual harmony. What is not … flattering is when the man shows every sign of wanting to run a mile within moments of the encounter.’

      ‘Oh, no! How—’

      ‘Humiliating, is the word you are looking for. The fact that this is, of course, the most sensible and prudent outcome does not help in the slightest.’

      ‘No, I can see that.’ Averil gathered up her parasol, reticule and shawl and opened the canvas flap. ‘What a pity. I thought he was perfect for you.’

       Perfect. He is beautiful and insanely courageous and intelligent and apparently rich and he makes love like an angel and he … he is no angel. An angel would bore me.

      ‘Lady Perdita, Miss Heydon. Good morning.’ It was Dr Melchett, a tough old survivor of everything India could throw at a man. Except possibly tigers, Dita thought.

      ‘Good morning, Dr Melchett. Are you going with the party to the gardens?’

      ‘I am not, Lady Perdita. I have seen them several times and I have every intention of buying gifts for my godsons. Might I escort you ladies, if you are also looking for bargains? Ostrich feathers, for example?’

      ‘Thank you, I would be glad of your company, sir. Miss Heydon is bound for the gardens, so I will be your only companion.’

      He was a dry and witty escort, Dita discovered, and the perfect antidote to troubling and handsome young men. He tempted her into buying a huge ostrich feather fan and plumes for her next court appearance and then enchanted her by taking her to a wood carver to buy amusing carved animals for his godchildren.

      ‘Oh,