Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1. Louise Allen

long kid gloves, holding out her arms in turn for Jenny to fiddle her way down the row of tiny pearl buttons.

      ‘Well, I never.’ Lady Fanny looked positively roguish. ‘Of course, he would know all the most fashionable establishments.’ She fluttered a little under Katherine’s startled gaze. ‘You must know he was quite the rake as a young man—so good looking too, although I have to confess he has grown even more so. All the girls were after him, and not just the respectable ones, if you follow me. Still, he sobered up when he fell for that Somersham chit—not that that lasted long when Cousin Lionel came to hear of it. Still, that is all in the past now and here he is home to become respectable again.’ She beamed happily, apparently forgetful of Katherine’s ambiguous position in Nicholas’s redemption.

      ‘Why was she so unsuitable, the Somersham girl?’ she asked curiously.

      Lady Fanny shrugged. ‘The family was well to do enough, but not good ton, you understand—gentlemen farmers for the most part. And her father was always in and out of debt; apparently a fatal tendency to gaming of all kinds.’ She handed Katherine her reticule and twitched her own skirts into order. ‘Now, where did I put my fan? Oh, yes, here it is. A very pretty child though, Annabelle, or Arabella, I cannot recall exactly. Big blue eyes, golden curls and she always looked helpless. Men seem to like that.’

      There was plenty in that to digest, Katherine thought grimly as Jenny fussed round her. ‘Will you come back up after dinner, Miss Katherine?’

      ‘Yes, thank you, Jenny,’ she agreed absently. So, the Duke had disliked an alliance with the daughter of a gamester and had disapproved of a girl from a gentry family. That could be me, if one substitutes brother for father, she acknowledged. It was as she had known all along, her instinct that this marriage could not stand was well founded. But this evening I am not going to remember that and I am going to make very certain that Nick is going to recall more about a brown-eyed, practical lady than he does about a blue-eyed helpless one.

      ‘Shall we go down?’ she suggested, following one step behind her chaperon as an unmarried girl should.

      Nick was standing in the Crimson Salon, the main reception room that led into the larger of the dining rooms, parrying the questions, subtle and not so subtle, that old acquaintances, neighbours and almost-forgotten friends were asking.

      It was not an easy task to reveal very little while at the same time not creating an air of mystery that would provoke even more gossip.

      ‘Yes, indeed, Lady Jarvis, I have to confess to fighting as a common trooper; a most instructive experience.’

      ‘Brave man,’ the dowager barked, rapping him painfully on the forearm with her fan. ‘Eccentric, but at least you weren’t gadding about like so many young officers seem to. At Waterloo, were you? Bad affair that, for all that we won. What does the Duke say about it, eh?’

      ‘I believe he would agree with you in categorising my behaviour as eccentric, ma’am.’ Nick smiled and passed on to greet another guest.

      ‘Lady Fanny Craven, Miss Cunningham,’ the footman announced as Nick turned to look at the door. At first he did not see her; several of Fanny’s old friends had turned too and moved to greet her.

      Then the space between him and the doorway cleared. There was Kat and he was back in the Assistant Governor’s office in Newgate with the force of that first impression catching the breath in his throat. And as he had seen then, she was beautiful. Huge brown eyes, wide cheekbones tapering to a pointed chin, a mass of dark blonde hair caught up into elaborate coils in a gilt net—lovely, terrified, brave.

      He doubted anyone else could see the fear she was controlling so firmly, but he knew his Kat. At least, he corrected, staring at the slender figure in its exquisitely simple gown, he knew several Kats, but not this one. Not this poised, lovely young lady who was following her chaperon obediently over to greet his father. He had seen a cheetah once: beautiful, sleek, apparently passive to its handler’s leash, until it had stood up and walked towards him with a grace that spoke eloquently of its power and its danger.

      It was not the domestic cat, the docile single miss that she was pretending to be that he saw, but a strong, resolute, unconventional wild version. Could anyone else see it? He glanced around and met Robert’s startled look.

      His brother edged over. ‘Is my mouth open?’ he hissed.

      ‘No,’ Nick assured him. ‘Not now. Spectacular, is she not?’

      Robert’s low whistle was answer enough. ‘I’m off to ask her for the first waltz.’

      ‘You can’t have it, and neither can I. We cannot risk drawing attention to her by neglecting our duty dances in her favour. We will both have to wait until after supper. Stay here, it will not do for both of us to descend on her the moment she appears.’

      Nick strolled off, following a meandering path through the chatting guests until he appeared, as if by chance, where Katherine was being introduced by Lady Fanny to the Gun-ton sisters. They broke off, wide eyed, and curtsied to him.

      ‘Lord Seaton.’

      ‘Miss Gunton, Miss Amelie, good evening. I hope you had a safe journey over the moors? I see Cousin Fanny has introduced you to her friend Miss Cunningham.’

      Kat turned to him with calm composure and dropped a slight curtsy. ‘Good evening, Lord Seaton.’

      God, but she was lovely. Her skin looked like milk against the soft primrose of the gown; the crystal beads in her bodice shimmered with the rise and fall of her breathing and the subtle scent of lily of the valley and fern rose from her warmth. ‘Ladies, if you would excuse us, I have been asked to introduce Miss Cunningham to Lady Foxe.’

      ‘Why?’ Kat hissed as he took her arm and steered her back across the room.

      ‘Because I wanted to talk to you. Lady Foxe is not even here yet.’ He bowed to a small knot of gusts talking animatedly and strolled on. ‘You look breathtaking, Kat.’ He let his fingers caress the crook of her arm where he held her and felt her shiver.

      ‘Thank you, but it is this lovely gown. I am sorry I was ungracious about it.’

      ‘Kat, you would look lovely in a sack. The gown simply shows off the loveliness that it sheathes.’ He watched her blush, saw the pearl eardrops tremble and wondered how he was managing not to bend down and nibble the delicate lobe it was suspended from.

      ‘You should not be spending time with me.’ She sounded anxious and he saw she was watching his father, alive for any sign of disapproval.

      ‘I know. I will leave you here with Mr Crace. Kat, I cannot dance with you until later, after supper. Keep your card free after then.’

      She smiled, a genuinely amused flash of humour. ‘I do not think that humble Miss Cunningham is going to have any problem doing that, Lord Seaton.’

      Nick smiled too, at her ridiculous modesty. Was she really unaware that male eyes were following her from all corners of the room? And this was simply the fifty dinner guests.

      ‘Mr Crace, might I leave Miss Cunningham in your care? I believe you will be taking her in to dinner.’ He freed her arm and turned away abruptly, suddenly all too conscious that if he did not, he was going to find it impossible to leave her side.

      ‘Miss Cunningham, may an old man be permitted to say that you are in great beauty tonight?’ Katherine was startled out of the breathless state Nick’s sudden appearance, and as sudden departure, had left her in by the archivist’s gallant observation.

      ‘Why, thank you, sir.’ The tubby little man beamed at her.

      ‘Now, who can I introduce you to, I wonder?’ he mused. ‘Not the young men, they will find you quite of their own accord.’ He chuckled. ‘Let me see … ah, yes, Lady Laithwaite and her daughters. Charming girls, and not so plain that they will mind your company,’ he added wickedly. ‘Over here.’

      Katherine accompanied him, reminding herself