Marriage was a commercial matter; mistresses were for enjoyment. Many men set up a mistress and kept her in luxury, merely to amuse and entertain them. At the select and very expensive educational establishment where she had spent her childhood, several girls were openly acknowledged as the children of one or more noble parents, but born out of wedlock.
Natalya suspected she was the product of such a liaison, even though no one had ever spoken of it. With the happy optimism of youth, she had not thought too deeply about it, until the past two years, when she had begun to attend balls and assemblies.
‘You must learn how to go on in society,’ Mr Pridham had told her. ‘You need to know how to dance and converse and to be at ease in company.’
And she had learned. She enjoyed the company and the dancing, but it was not long before she realised she was different. She became painfully aware that, with the exception of elderly Mrs Ancrum and the Grishams, she was tolerated, rather than widely accepted by the high sticklers of Bath society. That did not discompose her, neither did the lack of friends worry her, for she was far too busy to feel lonely, but whereas most chaperons actively encouraged their charges to attract the attentions of eligible gentlemen, the Pridhams went out of their way to keep potential suitors at bay. She wondered why that should be and just what her aunt and uncle had planned for her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Mrs Grisham came up to them in a rustle of silken skirts.
‘Now, now, girls, what are you doing, sitting here with your heads together? That is no way to attract dancing partners! Jane, here is Mr Carrey come to beg the pleasure of your company for the next dance.’ She gestured to the young man beside her, who flushed slightly.
‘Yes, indeed, Miss Grisham, if you would do me the honour?’
‘Off you go now, Jane, and I shall sit here and keep Miss Fairchild company.’ With a good-natured laugh she took her daughter’s place beside Natalya and patted her hand. ‘Well, well, my dear, ’tis a sad crush in here tonight, and no mistake, but if you sit up straight, my dear, and smile, I am sure you will not have to wait long for a partner. I do not know what Alice Pridham is doing, letting you skulk in a corner like this.’
‘My aunt is with her friends, ma’am, and I slipped away to talk to Jane.’
Mrs Grisham tutted. ‘That is no way to get yourself noticed.’
‘Really, ma’am, I am very happy to sit here.’
‘Nonsense. A young thing like you should be on the dance floor and giving us the pleasure of seeing you tripping about!’ She glanced up and ended with a note of satisfaction, ‘And we shall not have to wait much longer for that pleasure, I fancy!’
Mr Pridham was approaching, accompanied by a stranger whose appearance was drawing admiring glances from the ladies as he crossed the room. If the gentleman was aware of the stir he was creating, he showed no sign of it. His style was not flamboyant, but he had an understated elegance, from his light brown hair, cut fashionably short and gleaming in the candlelight, to the toes of his dancing shoes. Natalya could find no fault with his appearance. His dark coat fitted without a crease across his broad shoulders, the white waistcoat was buttoned smoothly over his flat stomach while tight breeches and silk stockings clung to long, powerful legs.
Closer inspection showed his lean countenance was undeniably handsome but he was not smiling and his dark brows were drawn together, as if he was here for duty rather than pleasure. Natalya noticed, too, that her uncle was behaving oddly. Never a genial man, he was decidedly ill at ease as he performed the introductions.
‘Natalya, my dear. Lord Dalmorren is wishful to dance with you.’
Dalmorren. She had heard the name before, but where? She looked again at his countenance. He looked familiar, but it was a fleeting impression and she dismissed it as a mere fancy.
The gentleman bowed. ‘I would be honoured if you would stand up with me, Miss Fairchild.’
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
