Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1. Louise Allen

your reticule back.’

      ‘That is a good idea,’ Tallie agreed. ‘In any case, I could hardly arrive home in the morning wearing the gown I left in the evening before.’ A thought struck her. ‘My goodness! What will the staff be thinking has happened to me? I must send a note at once to say I am safe.’

      ‘No need. I called on my way back here with you and simply told Rainbird that you had decided to spend the night with your friend and had desired me to pass on the message as I was passing. He immediately assumed it was Miss Scott to whom I referred.’

      ‘That was very deceitful,’ Tallie observed, secretly admiring his cool thinking.

      ‘Indeed it was,’ Nick said penitently with a poorly suppressed smile. ‘I should have told him that you were in my carriage without a stitch of clothing on and I was about to take you to my bed.’

      ‘It is a lowering and sobering thought,’ Tallie observed gloomily, ‘that I have sunk so far into immodest behaviour that I can find that even moderately amusing.’

      ‘Indeed it is. I suggest that you write a note to the housekeeper, saying that as you had not intended to stay the night you did not take a valise with you and asking her to pack one with a change of clothes and a walking dress. Naturally you wrote this last night and I, being a heedless and careless man who had consumed one too many glasses of brandy, forgot to deliver it. I will therefore appear, willing to atone for my fault by delivering the valise personally and not troubling Rainbird to send a footman with it.’

      Tallie smiled her agreement and finished her roll. Then she realised that there was only the one cup and refilled it, pushing it across the table to Nick. They ate and drank in silence, he staring rather blankly at the bookcase on the far wall, she marvelling that it was possible to be lying in a man’s arms in the throes of passion one minute and calmly sitting eating breakfast with him the next.

      Presumably marriage was like this. That was a dangerous thought. Tallie let her gaze stray across to Nick. Those long fingers idly playing with the sugar tongs were marked with cuts and grazes from last night’s adventure. They were also the fingers that had splayed on her back, pressing her into his embrace.

      The expressive mouth, now rather immobile and straight, had curved in amusement just now, had compressed in anger and determination in the studio last night, and in bed had caressed her lips with a tender, demanding expertise that made her tremble to recall.

      And as for the glimpse of him as he strode from the bed to answer the knock at the door—that image was overwhelming. Clothed she could appreciate his fitness, his strength, his elegance. Naked he was magnificent. And frightening.

      The frightening male animal suddenly put down his cup, ran his hand through his hair and stood up with a grin that banished all her heated imaginings. ‘Right, now you get back on the bed and pull the curtains round. I will ring for water, have a shave, get dressed and go to Bruton Street. While I am away you can wash; I’ll tell Matthews to bring up plenty of water. He’ll make sure you are not disturbed.’

      ‘Is it not rather early?’

      ‘The sooner I get you out of here the happier I will be. Rainbird will be confronted by a man with a hangover who woke at six with a crashing headache and a bad conscience for not delivering your note. I will be on my way to my club for the hair of the dog.’

      Tallie duly retreated into her hiding place and sat curled up against the pillows while Nick washed and shaved. It was all very interesting. It seemed he sang quietly to himself while washing, in a very pleasant tenor. The song he began with proved highly improper, a fact that appeared to dawn on him by the second verse, which was abruptly cut off and replaced by something unexceptional.

      He also shaved himself. Tallie listened to the sound of the razor being stropped, the soap being whisked up into a lather, the rather strangled hum the song deteriorated into as he shaved, the swish of water as he rinsed the razor.

      Matthews came back from the dressing-room at the end of this ritual for an earnest discussion on that morning’s clothes and was disappointed by the decision over which waistcoat his lordship was determined to wear, and mollified by a compliment on the state of his Hessians.

      ‘I’m off now,’ Nick said eventually. ‘Matthews will look after you, and mind you don’t set foot outside this door.’

      It closed behind him and Matthews remarked, ‘There is fresh hot water in the ewer, madam, and I have taken the liberty of replacing his lordship’s soap with something more to a lady’s taste. The towels are on the chair. Is there anything further madam requires? I suggest it would be unwise to ring. I will return to the dressing-room in thirty minutes and tap on the door. If there is anything you require, I will then be able to fetch it for you.’

      Tallie scrambled off the bed and pounced on the hot water and soft towels with delight. Her feet were black; goodness knows what the laundry maids would think of the state of Nick’s bed linen. She pulled off the robe and tried to look at the state of her back in the glass. It looked dreadful and felt worse with the grazes stiffening as they healed, but it probably looked worse than it really was. No lasting damage had been done.

      No damage except to her heart. If she thought herself in love with Nicholas Stangate before, now she was convinced of it. He was courageous, strong, intelligent, amusing. And the touch of his fingers turned her bones to water. But all those things were just the parts that made up the man. He was more than the sum of them, and she loved him.

      And it seemed that he cared enough about her to rescue her from the difficulties she had got herself into, despite discovering in the process that her secret was every bit as scandalous as he had always suspected.

      Tallie allowed herself to dream a little, then applied some chilly common sense. She was his aunt’s protégée—of course he was going to look after her to spare Lady Parry worry and embarrassment and to protect the family name.

      She got dressed again in the robe and wandered round the room, studying how Nick lived in his most private space. She did not open any drawers or cupboards, but studied the pictures on the walls, the books on the shelves, the careless litter of banknotes, invitations, seals and fobs on the dressing-table.

      It was a comfortable, masculine, unplanned and very personal room. Some of the books and pictures looked as though they were old family possessions, presumably from his country seat. Others were newer. She kept coming back to an oil painting over the fireplace. It was a landscape that did not seem quite finished at first; then, as she stared at it, began to make perfect sense. It was disturbing and she went close to peer at the signature. Turner. It meant nothing and she resolved to ask Mr Harland if he knew of him.

      By the time Nick returned she was curled up in a chair, her bare feet peeping out from under the robe, a book of travel memoirs by a member of the East India Company open on her lap.

      He closed the door behind him and leaned back against the panels, regarding her with a slight smile on his lips.

      ‘What is it?’ Tallie asked, suddenly defensive.

      ‘I was just thinking what a charming scene to come home to this is.’ He strolled over and looked to see what she was reading. ‘Interesting account, that.’

      ‘Mmm. I would love to travel, but as I cannot, I enjoy well-written descriptions.’

      ‘Why can’t you travel?’ Nick enquired, bringing over the portmanteau he had put down by the door.

      ‘Are those my clothes? Thank you so much. Why can’t I travel? Well, it is not something single young ladies can do, is it?’

      Nick shrugged. ‘Doubtless your husband will indulge you, even if it is only to Italy and not as far as India.’

      Tallie stopped, her hands on the buckle of the portmanteau. ‘Husband? You have more confidence in my acquiring one than I have! Now let me see—how do you think I should go about explaining that I have modelled naked for an artist or have scrambled around the rooftops of London in a state of nature? And at what point during the proposal does one introduce the