She gave a little sob. ‘I do not think you will be allowed to do that.’
‘Natalya?’ Tristan took her shoulders and turned her towards him. ‘Are you weeping?’ He cupped her face in his hands and gently smoothed his thumbs across her wet cheeks. ‘Tell me what is upsetting you.’
‘I am n-not upset as much as frightened.’
‘Ah, my dear.’ He pulled her close. ‘I shall not let anything happen to you.’
‘Not me.’ She gave a tiny sigh and her fingers clung to the lapels of his coat. ‘I am frightened for you, Tristan.’
‘Me?’ His arms tightened and for a moment he rested his head against her hair. ‘There is no need for that, sweeting, I promise you. Come and sit down, then you shall tell me what it is you fear.’
He took her hands and led her to a nearby bench and waited in silence until, eventually, she began to speak.
‘Freddie said he was approached by two men who warned him not to—to pursue me.’
‘Young fool, I would rather he had not made you anxious with that tale!’
‘No, he was right to tell me. And now, the attempt to abduct me. I believe the two events must be connected, but I have no idea why it should be. It frightens me, Tristan. I am afraid of what will happen to you if you are seen to be paying me too much attention when we return to Bath.’
‘You should let me worry about that.’
She shook her head. ‘I c-cannot. My uncle had promised to explain everything on my birthday, but then he said he could not yet tell me. As if he had received instructions on the matter.’ She dropped her head. ‘I very much fear my fate has already been decided.’
‘Why should you think that?’
‘Oh, little things that the Pridhams have said. My education, which was far in excess of what is considered necessary for most young ladies, or gentlemen, for that matter! And my aunt and uncle’s insistence that I should continue to add to my accomplishments.’ She tried to laugh. ‘You will think I am being fanciful, perhaps. I just wish I knew about my history!’
‘Then let me help. Tell me about your childhood,’ he suggested. ‘What can you remember?’
She considered for a moment.
‘I was brought up by an elderly couple for the first seven years of my life, although I have no idea where we were living. Then I was sent away to school in Yorkshire until I was seventeen. Many of the girls were orphans or, like myself, knew nothing of their parents save that there were sufficient funds to pay the not inconsiderable fees. One or two of the girls knew that they had been born out of wedlock. One in particular I remember; she was the child of a notorious courtesan. Daughter of the demi-monde, some of the teachers called her, although they did not know we were aware of it! Her mother used to send her the most extravagant presents.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I remember once she was given a diamond tiara that had been presented to her mother by a visiting foreign prince. Is it any wonder that those of us who knew nothing of our parents should think we came from similar stock?’
‘And what do you think now?’ he asked her, smiling.
Natalya felt a blush coming. She should tell him what Mrs Ancrum had said, that she was most likely the baseborn daughter of a gentlewoman and that her father was not even an Englishman! She should, but the words would not come.
Instead, she said lightly, ‘I do not doubt my history is far more commonplace. I am most likely an orphaned relative of the Pridhams. But I do feel as if I am being—being prepared for a role. At best, marriage. Or s-something less respectable.’ She shivered, but covered it with another laugh. ‘That is the drawback of being allowed to read extensively, I have the wildest fancies! I think the truth will turn out to be much more ordinary. Most likely I am destined to become a governess, or a lady’s companion, or some such thing.’
He reached out and covered her hands in his own, saying roughly, ‘I will marry you out of hand before I let that happen. Trust me.’
She nodded, but did not allow herself to consider the idea. Tristan might be willing to bestow upon her his hand and his name but if, as she suspected, she had been born out of wedlock, he would never be able to give her his heart. Why, only today she had read in Mrs Edgeworth’s novel where the heroine was believed to be illegitimate. Even such a good, brave hero as Lord Colambre knew he could never love a bastard. How much more difficult, then, for a respectable man of the real world?
A shiver ran through Natalya. She gently disengaged her hands and pulled the pink shawl a little tighter around her.
‘It grows cold,’ she remarked. ‘Perhaps we should walk back to the house now.’
‘Very well.’
They rose and Tristan once more offered his arm. However, when she slipped her hand on to his sleeve he did not move immediately and she glanced up to find he was watching her.
‘Well, my lord?’
‘I am in earnest Natalya, I mean to marry you, if you will have me. So, what do you say?’
Natalya felt the hot tears prickling her eyes again and blinked them away.
‘There is nothing I would like more,’ she answered him truthfully, ‘but let us
