Natalya thought his satin waistcoat and the intricately tied cravat hinted at a man of fashion. A man of ease and pleasure. Yet his voice was as serious as his demeanour and she could read nothing from his hard, slate-grey eyes. She was even more intrigued.
With a faint smile of acceptance, she rose and placed her fingers on his proffered arm. The fine wool sleeve was soft as silk to the touch, but beneath she was aware of iron hard muscle. Perhaps he was a sportsman, more at home in the saddle than the ballroom. That might account for his rather cold manner. However, when they began to dance, his lithe grace sent a frisson of pleasure running through her and Natalya’s heart gave a little skip. She spent most of her time dancing with awkward young men or elderly friends of the Pridhams. It was pleasant, for once, to have such an accomplished partner. Her curiosity in the man grew.
‘Are you newly come to Bath, my lord?’ she ventured.
‘I arrived in Bath two days ago.’
His reply was curt, but she excused him since the movement of the dance was about to separate them. When they came back together, she tried again.
‘You are perhaps an acquaintance of my uncle?’
‘I never met him before in my life.’ Natalya looked at him in surprise and he continued, ‘The Master of Ceremonies introduced us. I wanted to dance with you, you see.’
He smiled suddenly and she almost missed a step. Quickly she dragged her gaze away from him. She felt winded by the effect that smile had upon her. It transformed his face, warming his eyes, inviting her to smile back. It was a new experience for Natalya. She was at once frightened and excited. Exhilarated. Heavens, so this was the sensation that changed females from rational beings into simpering, giggling idiots. She had always scoffed when other girls had spoken of it and now here she was, blushing and tongue-tied merely because a man had smiled at her.
‘How, how flattering,’ was all she could manage to utter.
Thankfully, they separated again and she assumed what she hoped was a look of polite enjoyment. It was not only to cover her confusion. Aunt and Uncle Pridham did not like her to show interest in any gentleman and they would be closely watching her progress with Lord Dalmorren.
After two dances, Tristan led his partner off the floor, wondering what Freddie saw in Miss Natalya Fairchild. True, she danced gracefully and she had a dark beauty, no doubt about it. She was a little taller than average and her figure was good. Her complexion was flawless and the hair piled upon her head shone like a raven’s wing. Freddie was wrong about her eyes, though, he thought now. They were not black, but a deep, deep brown.
But for all that she lacked personality. She had made nothing but commonplace utterances during their time together. No different from the debutantes one came across in town. Tristan began to feel the familiar ennui creeping over him. In other circumstances he would bow, walk away and forget the chit, but Freddie had declared this was the woman he wanted to marry and, if he was to blurt this out to his doting mother, Katherine would immediately apply to Tristan as joint guardian for advice. Clearly, then, he must discover something he could pass on.
He glanced now at the young lady on his arm, trying to be charitable. Perhaps she was shy. When he had observed her from across the room she had looked animated enough, talking and laughing with her friend, but it was possible she was overawed by the occasion and needed to grow a little accustomed to his presence.
‘Perhaps, Miss Fairchild, you would do me the honour of standing up with me again before the end of the evening.’
‘Alas, my lord, that is not possible. My aunt and uncle do not allow me more than two dances with anyone.’
‘I see. Very commendable. Then I shall call upon you in the morning.’
She showed no sign of being flattered by his attentions. There were no maidenly blushes, merely a slight inclination of the head and a cool response.
‘Mrs Pridham will be delighted to see you, I am sure, but you will not find me at home. I shall be at my drawing lesson tomorrow morning.’
‘Later in the day, then.’
‘I shall be studying astronomy.’
‘Wednesday?’
‘I have dancing lessons in the morning and botany in the afternoon. And Thursday,’ she added, after an infinitesimal pause, ‘I study politics, currently Russia’s part in the recent wars.’
Tristan bit back an oath, but not quite quickly enough, and she gave a choke of laughter.
‘Oh, dear! Pray do not take it personally, my lord. I am telling you nothing but the truth. My days are indeed very busy.’
‘If you are trying to discourage me, Miss Fairchild, you are succeeding admirably!’
‘I am? Oh, dear. I am speaking no more than the truth. My aunt and uncle are eager that I should continue to improve my mind. I play chess regularly, too.’ She looked up at him, dispelling any notion that she was shy. ‘Does the idea of an educated female frighten you, my lord?’
Her face was alive with mischief and he felt a sudden drumbeat of alarm.
By heaven, that look is enchanting! It is no wonder Freddie is smitten.
He wanted to respond, to continue the conversation, but Mrs Pridham came bustling up.
‘Ah, Natalya. There you are, my dear!’
He saw the laughter fade from those dark eyes as her aunt took her arm.
‘Have you forgotten this next dance is promised to Lord Fossbridge?’ Mrs Pridham turned to Tristan, bestowing on him a smile that was somewhat forced. ‘I am sorry I must carry her away, my lord, but you understand how it is.’
In his mind he quickly sorted through the persons Mr King had presented to him that evening. If he remembered correctly, Fossbridge was an aged fellow, old enough to be Natalya’s grandfather. Certainly not
