eyes with some suspicion. ‘And what might that be?’
‘The economy of having a wife who can make her own hats. Why, I need give you but a fraction of the dress allowance I would otherwise have to.’
‘You beast!’ Tallie seized a cushion off the moth-eaten sofa, which comprised the furnishings of the attic room, and swung wildly at Nick with it. He retaliated with its companion and the space was instantly a snowstorm of dust and feathers. Almost unable to breath with giggles and sneezes Tallie landed a telling blow just as the door swung open to reveal Zenna, a look of horror on her face.
‘Oh, no!’ she wailed and promptly burst into tears. Tallie had never seen her with so much as a dampness in her eye; appalled, she dropped her cushion and ran to put her arms around her friend.
‘Zenna dearest, what is wrong?’
‘I thought … I thought I was doing the right thing letting Lord Arndale in,’ Zenna hiccupped miserably. ‘I thought he really loved you, and all the time he just wanted to ravish you and you had to beat him off …’
‘Ravish her …!’
‘Do be quiet, Nick, can you not see that Zenna is upset? We were having a pillow fight, Zenna darling, that is all. He does love me, we are going to get married.’
‘Truly?’
‘Truly.’ Tallie regarded her friend’s pink-faced embarrassment severely as she scrabbled in her pocket for her handkerchief. ‘But what were you about letting Nick in? You promised me that you would not.’
‘I asked him if he would send his daughters to my school,’ Zenna stated, blowing her nose defiantly. ‘And he said of course he would—so that makes him a prospective parent. And you agreed I might let those in.’
‘We would, would we not, my darling?’ Nick enquired.
‘Would what?’ Tallie was too amazed at Zenna’s duplicity to follow his question.
‘Send our daughters here.’
‘Our daughters? Oh!’ Tallie gazed at Nick, the blush spreading up her face. ‘You would like daughters?’
‘Two daughters and two sons seems a reasonable sort of number to me, but naturally it is something I feel we should discuss at considerable length.’
‘Excuse me,’ Zenna said with some firmness, her schoolmistress expression back on her face, the effect only marred by a very pink nose. ‘I should point out that this is a most improper conversation and that we should go downstairs, Talitha. I am sure his lordship will have many things to arrange and will be calling upon you on your return to London tomorrow. I will accompany you.’
Nick gave way with grace in the face of such a formidable front. His bow on the dusty threshold was a model of deportment and his face serious as he said, ‘You are entirely correct, Miss Scott. Miss Grey, I will call tomorrow afternoon if you will permit.’
He then spoiled the effect, much to Tallie’s delight, by seizing her by the shoulders and kissing her lingeringly on the lips. ‘Darling Tallie, I adore you.’ And he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The new Lady Arndale sat up nervously against the pile of lace-trimmed pillows in her big bed. Her bed, her suite of rooms, her house. Heronsholt, hazy in the evening light, a mass of grey stone and warm red tiles, the impression of a classical frontage and a hint of more chaotic wings behind.
But Nick had given her little opportunity to study the house nestling in its woods overlooking a sweeping Hertfordshire valley. He had ushered her past a confusing number of bowing and curtsying servants, delivered her into the hands of the beaming housekeeper and announced that dinner was required within the hour.
When she had joined him in the dining room there was a full contingent of footmen and an impressive butler to face. Tallie sent a look of pure panic down the length of polished mahogany to where Nick was getting to his feet and met his eyes. They were steady, confident, approving. Her chin went up and she returned the look with a smile that was suddenly calm. Her footmen, her butler—and she was not going to be intimidated by any of them.
Nick was at her side, holding her chair and she smiled up at him. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘Thank you, my lady,’ he whispered back. ‘Tomorrow we will have three leaves taken out of the table and will dine in comfort.’
But tonight he wanted her to impress the servants, she could tell. He had told her all their names on the journey from London, a dreamlike journey after the equally dreamlike wedding ceremony and the wedding breakfast organised on a lavish scale by Lady Parry. Flashes of memory came back to her: Millie looking radiant as she sang at her first private engagement, Mrs Blackstock in earnest discussion with Mr Dover as she explained the problems of finding reliable servants for three lodging-houses and Zenna shamelessly cornering Society ladies and lecturing them on the advantages of an education for girls at her select new seminary.
Nick had dealt with her obvious inexperience of managing a large household and her nervousness about the staff not by referring to it, but simply by giving her the information she would need.
‘Thank you, Partridge,’ she had said firmly, turning to the waiting butler. ‘You may serve now.’
But coping with the servants was one thing—that merely needed acting and a show of self-confidence until she acquired the real thing. Of all her new acquisitions, there was one that could not be dealt with in such a way. Her new husband.
Tallie swallowed, pulling the sheets up to her chin before she realised what she was doing and turned them down again. He has kissed you countless times, she chided herself. You have been in bed with him, for goodness’ sake. He has seen you naked. You have seen him, if it comes to that. Why so shy now?
If Nick had not been so restrained and proper for the four interminable weeks before their wedding, she might not have felt so nervous. But he had acted with the most scrupulous propriety, which unnerved her to the point where she almost convinced herself he was regretting the entire thing and was not in love with her after all. Then she would catch his gaze, see the passion burning in his eyes, hear the tenderness in his voice and she no longer doubted him.
A board creaked outside the door to her dressing-room. It opened onto a tiny lobby and then into his suite. Tallie swallowed, folded her hands over the crumpled wreck of the sheet edge and attempted to look calm. There was a scratch on the panels and the door opened to reveal her husband clad in a splendid dressing-gown of heavy crimson silk, his feet disconcertingly bare.
‘You look very small in that big bed,’ he observed, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. ‘Is it comfortable?’
Tallie’s voice vanished into a squeak. She coughed and tried again. ‘Very, thank you.’ Why did he not come in?
‘I wondered if perhaps you were very tired and would prefer it if I stayed in my room tonight.’
For a moment a ripple of relief ran through her. She would not have to face the horrible possibility that she might not please him tonight. Tomorrow she would be rested, not so tense. A good night’s sleep
