irritation out of her voice. ‘I am not.’
‘No,’ Freddie agreed, ‘but you haven’t set your cap at him. He’d snap you up, you know.’
‘I don’t wish to marry anyone at present,’ Tara said haughtily. ‘It is not Philippe in particular whom I am avoiding.’
‘All right, all right,’ Freddie said. ‘Truce. I’ll invite La Monte and I’ll see if I can find someone as highly principled as yourself for him. Now when shall we hold this little get together?’
‘We?’ Tara echoed. ‘I had not thought to be there.’
‘But you must!’ Freddie exclaimed. ‘You must act as hostess. Think about it, how better to persuade Rodney that you’re a lost cause than to imply that you have an understanding with me. It’ll be fun.’
Tara looked at him suspiciously. Freddie looked quite taken with his scheme. But was it just boyish delight at the idea of playing a joke on a friend, or did he have deeper intentions? She considered Freddie for a moment, although not terribly tall and destined to be plump as he grew older, Freddie was still quite handsome, and she had enjoyed his friendship ever since they had met at the very first ball of her debutante season. But his heart was given to gambling and although she moved on the fringes of his world, she had no desire to make it her own. Surely he was not getting ideas about her, she thought hopefully, after all she had just made her thoughts on marriage explicitly clear, but she could not shift her feeling of unease and as soon as they had agreed the date for the dinner party, she departed.
The next day Leo received an invitation scrawled in Freddie’s uneven handwriting, asking him to a dinner party on Sunday evening. His first thought was to refuse, he couldn’t see the point of dinner parties, one didn’t get to chat with one’s friends and he was invariably seated between two young ladies who didn’t have enough conversation between them to interest a rabbit. Then he thought about Tara. Somehow an invitation from the man at whose house he had first seen her seemed more than coincidental. Idly he pencilled her profile on the edge of the card while he considered. He could not quite fathom what game she was playing with him, he could tell she was attracted to him, the way her eyes shone and her lips parted whenever he managed to accidentally touch her confirmed it, not to mention the tautening if her nipples, just discernible through the smooth silk of her dress. The thought of that warmed him and made him wonder for the hundredth time what would have happened if Rodney had not chosen to return when he did. But he could tell Tara considered him no better than a tradesman and saw herself as being far out of his reach. Briefly he considered letting her know he was titled, if no longer landed, but dismissed the notion impatiently. He was a craftsman now, skilled and respected, remaking his fortune in his own way; he would not resort to using his title to impress a lady. Besides he was seeking neither mistress nor wife, he had no need to impress Lady Tara. But he longed to take her in his arms and kiss her.
He glanced back at the invitation. He had drawn his own profile on the other edge of the card, looking at Tara’s, the pencilled eyes of both faces locked together across the writing, holding each other without touching, as he had held Tara for two long afternoons in his studio already. He put the card face down on his work table, ready to use as a blotter and picked it up again almost immediately. Tara intrigued him too much, despite her apparent dismissal of him. He would go to Freddie’s dinner party where she was sure to be, and see what happened next.
‘Lady Susannah,’ Freddie said expansively, gesturing with his wine glass, ‘may I introduce my friend Lady Tara. Tara, I’m sure you must have seen Lady Susannah at Carlshot’s ball, she was quite the loveliest thing there.’
‘Very true,’ Tara said, hoping that the laughter
‘No,’ Freddie agreed, ‘but you haven’t set your cap at him. He’d snap you up, you know.’
‘I don’t wish to marry anyone at present,’ Tara said haughtily. ‘It is not Philippe in particular whom I am avoiding.’
‘All right, all right,’ Freddie said. ‘Truce. I’ll invite La Monte and I’ll see if I can find someone as highly principled as yourself for him. Now when shall we hold this little get together?’
‘We?’ Tara echoed. ‘I had not thought to be there.’
‘But you must!’ Freddie exclaimed. ‘You must act as hostess. Think about it, how better to persuade Rodney that you’re a lost cause than to imply that you have an understanding with me. It’ll be fun.’
Tara looked at him suspiciously. Freddie looked quite taken with his scheme. But was it just boyish delight at the idea of playing a joke on a friend, or did he have deeper intentions? She considered Freddie for a moment, although not terribly tall and destined to be plump as he grew older, Freddie was still quite handsome, and she had enjoyed his friendship ever since they had met at the very first ball of her debutante season. But his heart was given to gambling and although she moved on the fringes of his world, she had no desire to make it her own. Surely he was not getting ideas about her, she thought hopefully, after all she had just made her thoughts on marriage explicitly clear, but she could not shift her feeling of unease and as soon as they had agreed the date for the dinner party, she departed.
The next day Leo received an invitation scrawled in Freddie’s uneven handwriting, asking him to a dinner party on Sunday evening. His first thought was to refuse, he couldn’t see the point of dinner parties, one didn’t get to chat with one’s friends and he was invariably seated between two young ladies who didn’t have enough conversation between them to interest a rabbit. Then he thought about Tara. Somehow an invitation from the man at whose house he had first seen her seemed more than coincidental. Idly he pencilled her profile on the edge of the card while he considered. He could not quite fathom what game she was playing with him, he could tell she was attracted to him, the way her eyes shone and her lips parted whenever he managed to accidentally touch her confirmed it, not to mention the tautening if her nipples, just discernible through the smooth silk of her dress. The thought of that warmed him and made him wonder for the hundredth time what would have happened if Rodney had not chosen to return when he did. But he could tell Tara considered him no better than a tradesman and saw herself as being far out of his reach. Briefly he considered letting her know he was titled, if no longer landed, but dismissed the notion impatiently. He was a craftsman now, skilled and respected, remaking his fortune in his own way; he would not resort to using his title to impress a lady. Besides he was seeking neither mistress nor wife, he had no need to impress Lady Tara. But he longed to take her in his arms and kiss her.
He glanced back at the invitation. He had drawn his own profile on the other edge of the card, looking at Tara’s, the pencilled eyes of both faces locked together across the writing, holding each other without touching, as he had held Tara for two long afternoons in his studio already. He put the card face down on his work table, ready to use as a blotter and picked it up again almost immediately. Tara intrigued him too much, despite her apparent dismissal of him. He would go to Freddie’s dinner party where she was sure to be, and see what happened next.
‘Lady Susannah,’ Freddie said expansively, gesturing with his wine glass, ‘may I introduce my friend Lady Tara. Tara, I’m sure you must have seen Lady Susannah at Carlshot’s ball, she was quite the loveliest thing there.’
‘Very true,’ Tara said, hoping that the laughter
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