She went out, still chuckling, leaving Natalya feeling more bereft than ever.
The housekeeper assigned one of the housemaids to help Natalya dress. Despite the best efforts of Mrs Sturry and her maids, the white gown looked shabby in the bright light of a summer’s day. The satin was discoloured and the overdress showed signs of rough handling, with snags in the muslin and threads of the silver embroidery broken. Natalya sighed. It would have to do. At least there could be no doubting that she had been forcibly abducted, when she made her explanation to her aunt and uncle.
Once Natalya was dressed and had done her best to put her hair up into a knot, using the brush and comb Mrs Sturry supplied, she looked for some way to amuse herself until Tristan’s return. It could be hours and she was grateful when the housekeeper brought her a pile of novels that her mistress had recently purchased. By a lucky chance, one was The Absentee, a novel by Mrs Edgeworth. Natalya’s uncle had given her a copy as part of his study regime for her, so she had already started it. She quickly found her place in the story and continued to read, resolutely forcing herself to concentrate on the words.
Despite her best efforts, the time dragged and the summer sunshine was waning by the time Tristan returned. He came in, preceding his entrance with a brief knock and she jumped up, giving a sigh of relief when she saw him.
‘You are safe!’
He was still wearing his riding jacket and she thought how well he looked in the blue coat and buckskins. Even his neckcloth looked crisp and white. It had obviously fared better from the laundry maid’s ministrations than her poor gown.
‘Quite safe.’ His sober countenance was lightened with a brief smile. ‘But I have bad news, I am afraid. There are no carriages available at any price.’ He moved further into the room. ‘There is some sort of gathering afoot. A boxing match, I suspect, although being a stranger, no one wanted to tell me too much, in case I informed the magistrates. There is not even a gig to be had tomorrow. I am sorry.’
‘Oh.’
Strangely, Natalya was not as disappointed as she knew she should be. The idea of spending time here, with Tristan, was sinfully pleasing.
‘However, I have the promise of a vehicle for Tuesday,’ he continued. ‘It is a rather shabby affair, but it was the best I could find and it will convey you back to Bath in relative comfort, I think.’ He pulled a package from his coat and held it out to her. ‘And I have this for you.’
She stared at the parcel.
‘But it is Sunday. Nothing is allowed to be sold but milk and mackerel!’
‘Then all I will say is that I did not steal it.’ His sudden boyish grin made her heart skip a beat. ‘I thought it might be useful.’
Natalya unfolded the brown paper to reveal a fine woollen shawl of the palest pink.
‘Oh, it is just what I need.’ She rose, shaking out the folds and throwing it about her shoulders. ‘I shall not ask any more questions about how you procured it. I will just say that it is perfect and I thank you.’
She was tempted to put a hand on his shoulder and kiss his cheek, but she restrained herself, blushing slightly at the thought.
Tristan saw the gesture, the way her hand started to reach out towards him, then pulled back. An awkward silence stretched between them and he turned away, not wishing to embarrass her.
‘Mrs Sturry told me she had served your dinner some time ago.’
‘Yes. She said I should not wait. That you might be late.’
She sounded very subdued. No doubt she was reflecting on the delicacy of their situation.
‘Yes, she said as much and that she has put aside a meal for me.’ He walked towards the door. ‘I shall eat it downstairs, rather than disturb you.’ When she did not reply, he continued, ‘Having gone thus far, I am afraid we must continue with the pretence that we are man and wife. There will be gossip, but I hope we are sufficiently far from Bath for no one to guess the truth about you.’
He saw that Natalya was very pale. Her eyes were fixed on him, dark and anxious. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
‘If you are apprehensive about tonight, pray do not be. I have no intention of sharing your bed. I shall make do with the chair again. Or failing that,’ he ended lightly, ‘there is always the floor!’
She nodded, but as she turned away he caught a glimpse of unhappiness in her face and something more.
By heaven, he thought, shaken, was she disappointed?
His thoughts were in chaos. This was not the time or the place for a declaration. Their situation was far too delicate. And yet—
‘Natalya, I mean you no harm, trust me.’
‘Of course I trust you. I am an educated woman, a rational being and not some silly romantic ninny who thinks every man I meet will want to make love to me!’
She sounded quite calm, but she had her back to him and he could not be certain. He wanted to look into her face, to assure himself she was as rational as she professed herself to be.
Nonsense, you want to take her into your arms and tell her how desperately you want to make love to her!
It took him a supreme effort of will to keep his distance, but
