‘You enjoy speculating about the past, then?’
Her eyes dimmed a little.
‘More so than the future.’
She had withdrawn from him. He wanted to ask her what she meant, but she was looking past him, her face once more a polite mask. He heard the rustle of silks as Mrs Pridham came up and took her niece’s arm.
‘Natalya, my dear, Lord Fossbridge has been waiting this past half-hour to speak to you.’ She turned to Tristan, all smiles and condescension. ‘Pridham and I are quite delighted you could come this evening, my lord, but I hope you will excuse me if I carry Natalya away, there are so many of her friends who wish to speak to her.’
Tristan bowed and stood aside. He had not missed the wistful, almost anxious note in Natalya’s voice as she mentioned the future. What was she afraid of? Confound it, his secretary should have found out something about the girl’s background by this time! He would write Charles another note. Or better still, he would go to London himself.
But why bother with all that? What is Natalya Fairchild to you?
The thought brought his head up quickly. He was not sure he was quite ready to admit that, even to himself.
Natalya felt Tristan’s eyes on her as she went about the room. Not that he was standing apart, staring at her, as Freddie had been wont to do when he first came to Bath. Lord Dalmorren was too much of a gentleman for that. However, she could not shake off the feeling that he was observing her and she could not deny she would have liked to watch him, too.
She thought the evening would be an intolerable bore if he was not present. He was not the only well-travelled, educated man here this evening, but he was certainly the most attractive. He had a way of looking at her as they conversed as if she was the only other person in the room. As if every word she uttered was of importance to him. Earlier she had found herself studying his handsome face, wondering how it would feel if he kissed her. She thought he wanted to do so, if she had read correctly the warm glow in his eyes as he carried her off to the window to talk.
Stuff and nonsense, Natalya! The man was merely being polite.
Her eyes kept straying back to him throughout the evening. True, he looked to be happy enough conversing with the Grishams, then with Major Moffatt and even old Colonel Fossbridge, but she thought he might find occasion to speak to her again before the party ended.
At least, she hoped he would do so.
Eleven o’clock and still the reception rooms were full. Natalya might not be considered quite the thing by most of the high sticklers in Bath, but she noted that none of them had refused an invitation to celebrate her coming of age. They might regard her doubtfully, even ignore her in the street, but they were determined to remain and enjoy the lavish supper provided by the Pridhams. Her only regret was that Jane Grisham and her family had been obliged to leave because they were travelling to London early the following morning. Apart from Mrs Ancrum, they were her closest friends and she would miss their company in Bath.
Lord Dalmorren had made no attempt to speak to her again. Perhaps he had come tonight only to assure himself that she no longer had designs upon his nephew. The thought both angered and disappointed her, although she did her best to shrug it off. If that was the case, then he was quite odious and she did not care a jot what he thought of her!
In anticipation of the crowd, Mrs Pridham had brought in extra staff to wait upon her guests and, as everyone was preparing to go in to supper, one of these newly hired footmen slipped a note into Natalya’s hand. She was so surprised that for a moment she merely stared at the folded paper, then she hung back from the crowd and surreptitiously read the message.
It was a plea, couched in the most urgent terms, for her to meet the writer in the garden. She frowned at the signature, but it was too much of a scrawl. She did not recognise the writing and although she thought the signature began with an F, she could not be sure. She read the final line again.
Tell no one. Do not fail me!
Natalya caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She could think of no one but Freddie who would ask her to engage in a clandestine meeting. She frowned. Had he not yet left Bath? Perhaps he had had a run of bad luck at the gaming tables and needed funds to travel to Surrey.
Instinctively she looked around for Tristan, thinking she should take the note to him, then she changed her mind. Surely Freddie would have sent the note to his uncle if he had wanted to involve him. From all Freddie had told her she knew he thought a great deal of Lord Dalmorren. It was most likely that the poor boy was embarrassed to approach him. Dear Freddie, doubtless he was making a crisis out of something that would most likely prove to be no more than a silly, insignificant little matter.
Everyone else had left the room. Natalya crossed to the windows at the rear of the house. They overlooked the small garden, but from the lighted room she could see nothing. It was enveloped in darkness. She knew there was no way into the garden except over the neighbouring walls on either side, or through the coach house that opened on to the mews. If Freddie was there, then he must have bribed a servant to let him in through the
