Freddie had secured Jane Grisham’s hand and as they joined the set, Tristan saw the smile that Natalya gave them. He forced himself not to scowl. She looked serene, not at all jealous to see her beau standing up with another lady. He turned away and went to sit beside James Moffatt on the benches at the side of the room. By heaven, she must be confident of her power over Freddie!
It was time. Tristan crossed the room towards Mrs Ancrum. Natalya was one of the little group surrounding the old lady, but she had her back to the room and did not see his approach. Mrs Ancrum beamed at him.
‘Ah, here is your next partner, my dear, come to carry you off!’
Natalya turned, the laughter dying from her face.
‘Oh. I thought Freddie...’
He bowed. ‘Plans have changed. I hope you will do me the honour, Miss Fairchild?’
He offered his arm to Natalya and as they walked away, he heard Mrs Ancrum chuckle. ‘Lord, how I enjoy watching the young people enjoying themselves!’
Neither of them spoke as they took their place in the set that was forming. Tristan noted the becoming flush to Natalya’s cheeks. Brought on, he thought bitterly, by flirting with Freddie, even while he was dancing with another lady! He recalled the way she and Freddie had sat out earlier, deep in discussion. How she had taken his hand. The memory sliced into him like a knife.
Natalya cast a doubtful glance up at him. ‘Have I done something to offend you, my lord?’
‘Apart from making up to my nephew?’
She flushed, but her chin lifted a fraction. ‘Freddie and I are friends.’
‘That is very plain to see!’
If he had thought the music would drown out his words, he was mistaken. She glared at him.
‘What do you mean by that, what are you implying?’
‘That your sitting with your heads together for half an hour will set tongues wagging.’
The movement of the dance prevented them saying more and Tristan was thankful. A ballroom was no place for an argument. When they came back together, he forced himself to apologise.
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Fairchild. It is not my place to reprimand you.’
The smile on her lips did not match the wrathful sparkle in her eyes.
‘You are quite correct, my lord, it is not your place.’ That determined little chin lifted even higher and she said icily, ‘Not that I admit to any action that warrants a reprimand! Talking to your nephew, in full view of everyone, cannot be considered fast.’
She danced away from him, her black curls bouncing. She was right about that. Talking with Freddie was in no way improper, but that intimate gesture, when she had reached out and touched Freddie’s mouth... The thought of it sent a bolt of pain crashing through him and he almost missed his step. Confound it, he was jealous of his own nephew!
He thrust the thought aside, horrified, and tried to concentrate on the complicated movement of the dance. By the time he and Natalya were together again he had regained his composure. She responded to his attempts at conversation warily, but when he led her back to Mrs Ancrum they were able to part with perfect civility, if not in any friendly fashion. Her response to his nod was a frosty curtsy before she turned away to smile at Colonel Yatton, who had come up to claim her hand for the next dance. Jaw clenched, Tristan strode off to the card room with never a backward glance.
Tristan glanced at his watch. It was so late he might as well remain until the end of the ball. He waited while Freddie escorted Natalya and Mrs Ancrum to their carriage, then they walked back to George Street together. Freddie, naturally enough, was ecstatic.
‘What an evening! To dance the first dances with Natalya, then to be allowed to stand up with her again! I was sorry not to stand up a further time, but I see now that your dancing with her has answered very well.’
‘Oh?’ Tristan glanced at him warily. ‘What did Miss Fairchild tell you of our dance together?’
‘Why, nothing, only that you understand one another better now.’
What the devil did that mean? Tristan wondered why she had not told Freddie of his disapproval. The boy was sufficiently infatuated to take her side in any argument. But she would know that Freddie did not like to be at odds with anyone. Perhaps she was so sure of him she could afford to keep silent.
‘But you were not dancing the whole time you were with Miss Fairchild,’ remarked Tristan, trying to sound casual. ‘What did you discuss, when you were sitting out together?’
Freddie waved a hand. ‘Oh, this and that. There is so little chance to talk, you see, when she is chaperoned by Mrs Pridham.’ He gave an ecstatic sigh. ‘Is she not an angel, Tris?’
‘I do not feel qualified to judge.’
‘No? But you have danced with her. She has grace, beauty and intelligence. She is more accomplished than any other woman of my acquaintance!’
‘A veritable paragon, then.’
Freddie stopped. ‘Yes. She is, Tris!’
Tristan took his arm and gently moved him on. ‘And has she agreed to marry you?’
‘Oh, well, you know, not yet, but she will. I am confident she will. Only she thought it best to wait a few weeks. Until she is of age, you know.’
‘The devil she did!’ Tristan bit back any further comment. He did not know what to think. Was she a cunning little vixen, who had Freddie wrapped around her finger and meant to wed him, or was she waiting to see how much
