the little figure before him was holding her breath. He saw her hand come up, then it dropped again to her side.
‘Thank you, but no. Companions do not dance.’
So that was her role. He felt a stir of pity.
‘But out here we do not need to abide by society’s rules.’ He reached out and took her hand, pulling her towards him. ‘Here we are no more than a man and a woman. We may dance if we wish to, or…’
His words trailed away as he drew her closer. He had not intended to take her in his arms, but as she stepped forward it seemed natural to embrace her. She leaned against him, her head just below his chin. He breathed in the subtle fragrance of flowers and sunshine and—
‘Oh, dear heaven, let me go!’
She was struggling like a frightened bird against this hold. Immediately he released her.
‘Oh, I do beg your pardon,’ she gasped. ‘That was not meant to…I must go!’
‘As you wish.’ She stood before him in the darkness. He could not see her face, but he knew that she was troubled. He said gently, ‘Did I frighten you?’
‘No…’ Her voice caught on a sob. ‘No, never.’
She turned and disappeared into the night. Nathan watched her go, then with a faint shrug he reached into his pocket for his cigarillos.
Felicity flew out of the shrubbery and stopped, panting once she reached the grass path. What had she been thinking of? To talk to Nathan had been foolish enough, to allow him to take her in his arms was sheer madness. Why had she not told him who she was? She bowed her head. She could imagine his reaction. Anger and revulsion. How had she ever dared to hope that he might want her back? Yet even now she could not bring herself to walk away.
Give him the chance to decide.
Felicity crept back to the edge of the path and peeped around the corner. She could just make out Nathan’s dark figure a short distance away, only his white neckcloth and waistcoat showing against the black shadows. He was moving quite slowly and as she watched he tilted his head back and exhaled a little cloud into the night air. A tangy, unusual fragrance wafted towards her. He was smoking a cigar. She had seen the officers in Corunna smoking these little cylinders of rolled tobacco and guessed that Nathan had picked up the habit during his years as a soldier. A movement in the shadows caught her eye. There was someone else in the shrubbery. Immediately she was on the alert, sensing danger. Nathan had turned away from that corner of the garden and Felicity saw a sudden flash, a glint of metal in the moonlight.
‘Behind you, sir!’ Felicity’s shout cut through the silence.
Nathan wheeled about, fists raised. ‘Who’s there?’
A dark shape broke away and fled, all attempts at stealth gone as it crashed through the bushes.
Felicity stepped back into the shadows. She had succeeded in putting Nathan on his guard. Now she must remove herself. Picking up her skirts, she raced back towards the terrace, veering off along the path leading to the main gardens.
‘Sir James, Sir James!’
Lydia and her husband were strolling arm in arm beneath the coloured lamps. They looked up at her call. She ran up to them.
‘Sir James, there is—an—intruder,’ she gasped out the words, impatient to make him understand. She pointed. ‘Over there in the shrubbery.’
Sir James immediately ran to the terrace and pulled one of the torches from its holder, calling to a footman to follow him. He turned to Felicity.
‘Very well, show me.’
‘James, be careful!’ cried Lydia, running along behind them.
They were halfway along the path when they met Nathan coming the other way. Felicity dropped back immediately into the darkness.
‘Rosthorne,’ Sir James called to him. ‘There’s a report of an intruder. Have you seen him?’
‘Aye, there was someone. He took off through the garden door when I challenged him. I followed him outside, but the alley was deserted.’
Sir James turned to the footman. ‘Could he have got in that way?’
The servant shook his head. ‘No, sir. Her ladyship insists we keep the door locked.’
‘Well, it was used tonight,’ said Nathan. ‘There are bolts top and bottom. I was close behind the man as he opened the door. He did not have time to draw them back. Either he had prepared his escape, or someone let him in.’
‘Good heavens!’ gasped Lydia, clinging to her husband’s arm.
‘I will talk to Stinchcombe,’ said Nathan. ‘He can have the servants search the house, to check if anything is missing.’
‘Make sure you do not alarm the rest of the guests,’ Sir James called after him. He patted Lydia’s hand. ‘There is nothing more to be done here, so I suggest we go back indoors. Come, Miss Brown. You may rest easy now; there is no one here.’
Sir James took the ladies back to Berkeley Square soon after, and the incident in the Stinchcombes’ garden was not mentioned again, but it remained in Felicity’s mind when she went to bed that night. Sir James had spoken to his hostess before they had left and she had assured him that nothing had been taken from the house, and no uninvited guests had been seen in the building. For all that Felicity was still uneasy. It would be a very bold thief who would risk entering a house full of guests. There had been something menacing about the way the figure had moved in the shadows, the way it had approached Nathan and the glint of metal she had seen. Could it have been a knife blade? She shuddered. There were so many strangers in London for the Peace Celebrations: perhaps not all of them were friendly.
‘Now you are being fanciful,’ she muttered, pummelling her pillow. ‘It was probably some poor starving creature looking for a little food, nothing more. You were overwrought. Most likely you are making a mountain out of nothing more than a worm-cast!’
Nevertheless, the feeling persisted that by being there she had saved Nathan’s life.
However, there was no talk of intruders the next morning; Lydia’s thoughts were all on a forthcoming treat.
‘In general James does not like masked balls and I feared that he would cry off from Lady Preston’s masquerade next week,’ she said, with a twinkling look at her husband. He grinned back at her.
‘His Highness insists we all attend, and that we wear a costume of his own designing.’
Lydia laughed. ‘How galling that I must be grateful to the Prince Regent for my husband’s company!’
Felicity turned to Sir James. ‘His Highness wishes you all to attend?’
‘Aye, Miss Brown. Neither Rosthorne nor I will be escorting the royal party that night, but we are still obliged to wear the Regent’s costume.’
