‘No, you do not.’
She gave an uncertain laugh. ‘Goodness, that is blunt speaking indeed. You are nothing if not honest, my lord!’
‘I beg your pardon, but from the little I know of you I believe you prefer honesty, so I am compelled to say that I came to Bath for the sole purpose of seeking you out, after a young relative of mine mentioned you to me. Frederick Erwin.’
‘Oh, Mr Erwin!’ Natalya recalled now where she had heard Lord Dalmorren’s name before. It explained that feeling of recognition, too. Freddie’s eyes were more blue than grey and his hair much fairer, but there was a definite similarity between the two men. She smiled. ‘Ah, yes. I hope he is well?’
‘Very well. He is paying a visit to his mother at present. In Surrey.’
‘Oh. I thought he had gone to town.’
‘No, he came to Dalmorren to see me. He is my ward, you see. His mother and I are joint guardians of his inheritance which, by the bye, will not be under his control for another four years.’
Understanding dawned and, with it, indignation. She said, ‘Are you telling me this in case I have...designs...upon Freddie?’
She did not miss the faint look of surprise when she said the name. Why should she not? She and Freddie were friends, and it was His Lordship’s mistake if he thought it suggested they were anything more. How dare he be so presumptuous!
‘And do you?’
His words were a challenge and she felt a flash of anger, but before she could respond Mrs Pridham was at her side and she could do no more than send the odious man a glare of rebuke.
‘People are beginning to return to their seats, Natalya. Shall we go in?’
There was no jockeying for position, but Natalya could never afterwards explain how she found herself sitting between Lord Dalmorren and the Pridhams. A glance showed they were not pleased with the situation, but short of her aunt insisting they should exchange seats and causing the sort of disturbance they abhorred, there was nothing to be done. Natalya put up her chin and stared pointedly at the lectern, waiting for the speaker to appear.
‘To continue our conversation,’ Lord Dalmorren murmured, ‘I was about to ask how well you know my nephew.’
‘Mr Erwin is a very charming gentleman. I would like to think we are friends.’
She was about to add that they were nothing more than friends, when her aunt’s fan came down in a sharp tap on her arm.
‘Enough talk now. Mr Walker is about to speak again.’
Natalya lapsed into silence. She fixed her attention upon the speaker, but the seats were very close and she was painfully aware of Lord Dalmorren beside her. The slightest move and her shoulder brushed his sleeve. She could not help glancing at his muscular thigh, only inches from her own. The man was like a magnet, drawing her closer, and it was an effort not to lean against him. The idea was unsettling. Disturbing. It was also very annoying, because Natalya considered herself an intelligent, sensible female. She was not given to fanciful ideas and had often mocked her schoolfriends when they sighed and pined over some man.
With great determination she dragged her attention back to Mr Walker and tried to concentrate upon his talk. The only stars that interested her were in the night sky, not in her eyes!
Despite her best efforts, during the days that followed, Natalya could not forget Lord Dalmorren. She found herself thinking about him almost constantly. When someone mentioned his name to the Pridhams as they came out from church, she strained her ears to listen. She learned the Dalmorrens were an ancient family and a rich one, so the Pridhams could not object to his lineage or his fortune. Why, then, were they so loath to pursue the acquaintance? Why were they keeping her a virtual prisoner?
Natalya had always been chaperoned, but for a whole week following Mr Walker’s lecture her aunt or uncle insisted upon escorting her personally to and from her various lessons. Mr Pridham even decided they should forgo all evening engagements. It was thus over a week later that she and Lord Dalmorren met again.
It was the regular Monday ball at the Assembly Rooms and she spotted his tall figure across the room. She thought he might ignore her. After all, he had not called at the house and had made no attempt to see her since the lecture. He had thought she wanted to marry Freddie. Perhaps he had realised it was not the case and no longer had any interest in her.
Natalya’s disappointment at that thought was severe. Not because she felt any particular liking for him, she told herself, but since Freddie Erwin had left Bath there were so few young gentlemen for her to dance with, certainly none as accomplished as Lord Dalmorren. That was all it was. A very natural wish to dance with someone who was neither a schoolboy nor an octogenarian.
Aunt Pridham pinched her arm. ‘Lord Dalmorren is coming over,’ she hissed. ‘After accepting his invitation to Mr Walker’s lecture, we could not refuse when he asked if he might dance with you. Goodness knows I suppose he must entertain himself somehow while he is in Bath, but you will not encourage him, Natalya, do you understand me?’
And there he was, standing before her, smiling and looking even more handsome than she remembered.
‘This is our dance, I believe, Miss Fairchild.’
Her chin went up and the tiny spark of rebellion within flickered a little brighter. Why should she not encourage Lord Dalmorren? Why should she not enjoy a man’s attentions, even a mild flirtation, if it were offered? What harm could there be in it?
Then he smiled and, when she felt
