Regency Innocents: The Earl's Untouched Bride / Captain Fawley's Innocent Bride

‘For what?’ It was ridiculous, he reflected with a frown, that his spirits should lift just because she had forgotten herself so far as to reach out and touch him.

‘That people should so misunderstand you. What do they think you mean to do with Robert? Is he not your brother? Your heir?’

‘Alas, from Lord Lensborough’s reaction this evening, I fear they suspect that I mean to cut him out by siring an heir of my own. Through you.’

‘Well, that just goes to show,’ she said, snatching back her hand, remembering his reaction when she had made such an impulsive gesture once before, ‘how silly they are.’ Couldn’t they see how devoted Charles was to his brother? Didn’t they understand how outraged he had been by the way his guardians had tried to cut him out of the succession?

Charles sighed. The reminder that she would one day have to face this distasteful duty as a wife had brought about an instant withdrawal.

But at least when he went to her room later, to bid her goodnight, she seemed to be in good spirits.

‘Thank you for this evening, Charles,’ she said prettily, when he bent to bestow a chaste salutation on her forehead. ‘I did enjoy it.’

‘Really?’ He frowned. ‘I thought you seemed … abstracted.’

‘Oh, well …’ She fidgeted nervously with the ties of her robe, her cheeks flushing pink as she averted her eyes from his.

Ah! She was relieved it was over. But she did not wish to wound him by confessing as much.

She wanted him gone. Very well, he would oblige her! He would not force his unwelcome presence on her a moment longer. Turning on his heel, he stalked from the room.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Heloise flung back the covers and went to the desk which she had converted to a drawing table. She had nearly given the game away then. It was just that there had been so many odd people at the theatre. And the knowledge that there was, at last, a fresh sheaf of drawing paper and a selection of really good-quality pencils hidden in a box beneath her bed was like a tonic fizzing through her veins. Now that she was a countess, with an army of staff at her disposal, she did not have to search the shops for what she wanted. She simply sent her maid, Sukey, with a list, and voilà ! After an hour or so the girl returned with exactly what she requested! And, since Sukey was so grateful for the meteoric rise in her status, she would rather cut her own throat, she had breathed dramatically, than ever betray Her Ladyship’s confidence.

Heloise only felt a small twinge of conscience for continuing with a pastime Charles frowned upon. So long as he did not find out, it could not hurt him.

And so many ideas had flooded to her while she had been studying the crowds tonight. Beau monde! She scoffed as she pulled a stool to her desk and lit the two lamps she had placed there for moments such as this. There was nothing beau about the manners of some of those people! They ignored the efforts of the actors upon the stage for the most part, which was rude, since they had clearly gone to a great deal of effort for the entertainment of an audience that was interested only in its own members. Except for certain of the men, when the pretty young dancers came on. Then it was all tongues hanging out and nudging elbows, and comments which she was certain were coarse, though fortunately she had not been able to hear them. And as for that obnoxious marquis, who harboured such uncharitable thoughts towards both Charles and herself … well! She had seen the plump little blonde sitting beside him in his own private box, giving him sheep’s eyes. A woman who was clearly not his wife. And he had the temerity to look askance at her !

Dawn was filtering through her curtains before Heloise began to yawn. Her excitement had driven her to fill page after page with initial sketches. Later, when she had the interminable hours of daylight to fill, she would add the detail and bring the scenes to life with judicious touches of watercolour paint. Yes … She yawned again, sloughing off her robe and letting it drop to the floor. There was much to be said about an evening spent at the English theatre.

And tonight the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall would provide even more material for her portfolio.

Robert was to dine with them both before taking her out. Charles had sent a note to inform her.

This time there were no arguments. There was scarcely any conversation at all. It was as though all three of them were determined to say nothing that might spark another confrontation.

Eventually, Charles remarked, ‘I shall not be dining at home for the next few evenings, Lady Walton. I warned you before we married that I have an interest in politics. And at this particular time, with Bonaparte on the rampage again, you will appreciate that I must be busy in the affairs of my country.’

Of course she understood. In Paris, it was in the private salons of influential hostesses that statesmen decided which line they were going to take in public. Similar meetings must go on in London.

She nodded. Robert scowled.

She was not surprised when, the second they got into Walton’s private carriage, which he had put at their disposal for the outing, Robert blurted, ‘He’s not going to back those fools who want to try and appease Bonaparte, is he?’