‘Jane’s maid will be with us, although the poor woman is always so tired after the steep ascent that she invariably falls asleep.’
‘Is that so, Miss Fairchild?’
There was a note of teasing laughter in his voice, but Natalya dare not look up at him for fear she would flush scarlet. They were but a few steps away from the Pridhams. She released his arm and moved across to stand beside her aunt, who was tapping her foot angrily on the floor and directing a look at Lord Dalmorren that was positively glacial. Impervious to this cold reception, he exchanged a word or two with Mr Pridham, then, with a smile and a bow, he withdrew.
Natalya watched him walk away and could not decide whether she wanted to see him at Beechen Cliff in the morning and it was this conundrum, rather than the angry rebukes of her aunt and uncle, that resulted in a sleepless night.
Chapter Three
May had barely begun, but it was more like high summer, with the sun shining down from a cloudless sky when Tristan set off in the direction of Beechen Cliff. His conscience was far from easy as he ascended the steps leading up to the famous landmark. What in heaven’s name was he doing, keeping an assignation with a young woman of whom he knew so little? It was not the actions of a gentleman. He argued that he owed it to Freddie to find out more about Miss Fairchild, since her guardians were playing their role with excessive zeal.
He frowned when he thought of the two weeks he had spent in Bath. Confound it, he should have asked Freddie how the devil he had managed to become sufficiently acquainted with Natalya Fairchild to fall in love. Had she made assignations with him, too?
He realised that he only had Natalya’s word for it that she would be with friends. What if she was alone and this was some convoluted ploy to trap him into marriage? It would not be the first time some unscrupulous female had tried to snare him. It was one of the reasons he now spent so little time in London, where his bachelor status made him a target for every matchmaking parent. His lip curled. If that was indeed Miss Natalya Fairchild’s intention then she would soon discover her mistake and it would prove conclusively that she was not a fit wife for Freddie.
When he eventually reached the top of the cliff, Tristan had to admit the climb was worth the effort. Whatever else occurred today he would remember this view of Bath. The city was spread out before him, the Abbey soaring majestically over the neighbouring buildings and the river twinkling, jewel-like, in the sun.
Soft voices and laughter caught his attention. A short distance away Natalya and her friend were sitting on the grass, sketchpads on their knees, while behind them, stretched out on the grass, was a buxom maidservant. The young ladies were wearing bonnets to protect their complexion from the sun and one of them had thoughtfully placed an open parasol to shade the maid’s head as she slept.
It all looked very innocent and any casual observer would think him a gentleman out for a stroll who had come upon the group by pure chance. His mind was relieved on one point, she was accompanied, and there was a maid present, even if she was sleeping. Tristan stifled his conscience and approached.
‘Good morning, Miss Grisham, Miss Fairchild.’
‘Oh, Lord Dalmorren.’ The note of innocent surprise in Natalya’s voice did not fool him and neither, judging by the look of speculation on her face, did it deceive her companion, who looked up from her sketching to address him.
‘Are you come to take in the view, my lord?’
‘I am. It was recommended to me. Most strongly.’ He smiled at Natalya and was rewarded by seeing her blush.
‘Such a warm morning, is it not, my lord?’ remarked Miss Grisham. ‘Perhaps you would like to join us for a little while, I am sure you will wish to rest after your exertions.’
‘Thank you, I will.’ He sat down on the grass between them. ‘But pray do not let me stop you working. I will just sit here and enjoy the...er...scenery.’
Miss Grisham giggled, but Natalya remained silent and became even more intent upon her drawing.
Great heaven, he thought in disgust. Did I just say that? I sound like an out-and-out scoundrel!
It was not his normal style at all. He lapsed into silence. After all, he had said he would not disturb them, had he not? For several minutes they remained with only the birdsong, the buzz of bees and the gentle snores of the maid to disturb them. Then Jane Grisham gathered up her sketchbook and pencils.
‘I want to capture the view from another angle and that bush over there is blocking my view of the foreground.’
She went off to sit down at some distance away, on the far side of the sleeping maid, and Tristan berated himself for a fool. It was such an obvious ploy to leave him alone with Natalya. She must have planned this. Confound it, the little minx was a hardened flirt.
Then he caught sight of her face and changed his mind. She was either a superb actress or she was as ill at ease as himself. His anger subsided and he gave a little inward shrug. He had wanted the opportunity to become better acquainted, so he had best get on with it.
He ventured a comment on the astronomy talk and was rewarded by an answer. He tried again and the conversation continued, a little uncertain at first, but gradually it became easier until they were chatting away with all the freedom of old friends. From astronomy they moved to history and politics, then by degrees to
