Regency Pleasures: A Model Débutante

‘And what business might that be?’

‘It is far too early to divulge the details,’ Tallie said repressively, dapping her lips delicately with the napkin.

‘If you are going to plunge into dubious investments, Miss Grey, I must tell you as your—’

‘As my what, my lord?’ Tallie gathered up her reticule and smiled at William. ‘Do you know, I think I would like you to call me a hackney after all, Lord Parry, if you would be so kind.’ She waited until he rose and went to the door before turning back to his cousin, who was watching her with smouldering eyes. ‘You may be Lady Parry’s trustee and you may be Miss Gower’s executor, my lord, but you have no role in my life.’

William was on the pavement, head tipped back, obviously asking the driver of the hackney carriage drawn up at the kerb to wait. ‘What a thoroughly nice young man Lord Parry is,’ she added, without thinking. ‘His mama must be very proud of him.’

‘He is indeed,’ Nick Stangate said close by her ear as he pulled back her chair for her. ‘Very nice, very young, very titled and very rich. And he is in no need of a wife, or any other romantic liaison at the moment.’

Vehement, furious denial rose to Tallie’s lips, but she controlled it—just. Only a hesitation as she rose betrayed the anger that lanced through her. That he thought she could entertain the slightest desire to flirt with, let alone set out to ensnare, a lad five years her junior for the sake of title and wealth was utterly insulting and she half-turned to hiss a furious response. Then a wicked thought flashed through her brain and she bit her tongue.

She calmly straightened her skirts and turned to smile into the darkly handsome face so close to hers. ‘And what were you doing when you were twenty, my lord? I cannot believe that romantic liaisons were very far from your thoughts. I am sure Lord Parry is quite old enough to know what he wants. I am so looking forward to getting to know him better.’

She kept her temper under control as she thanked William prettily for her treat and for the hackney and sat stock-still while the vehicle rocked and bumped over the cobbles back to Upper Wimpole Street. She could hardly give way to her feelings in the middle of a public street. But when she got back to the house and found the parlour empty, she seized a cushion from the sofa and pummelled it until feathers started to leak from one seam.

‘Insufferable man!’

‘Let me guess.’ Zenna appeared in the doorway, quill in one hand and Latin primer in the other. ‘Lord Arndale.’

‘Yes.’ Tallie threw the cushion back onto the sofa and sat on it with emphasis. ‘I declare, Zenna, that man has the most appalling effect on me. Did you ever know me to lose my temper before? Did I not always try to be calm and philosophical in the face of setbacks? Would I have stooped to mockery and deception in order to annoy another person? Was I able to sleep at night?’

‘No, yes, no and usually,’ Zenna said with a grin. ‘Now, what has he done? Has he tried to kiss you?’

Tallie glared at her. ‘I do wish you would stop this jesting of yours, Zenna. First you say you expect him to propose, then to kiss me. The wretched creature is suspicious of me, that is all. He knows I have something to hide and is busily investigating me. And now he accuses me of setting my cap at his cousin.’

‘Lord Parry? But how old did you say he was? Sixteen?’

‘Twenty, and a very young and very charming twenty-year-old at that. I met him in Piccadilly and he took me for an ice cream and we talked until who should arrive but Nick Stangate, looking like the wrath of God.’

‘Tallie!’

‘I am sorry, I did not intend to blaspheme. He is like one of those Greek gods. You know, thunderbolts and eyes that turn people to stone,’ she added wildly.

‘I think you are getting thoroughly confused with your Greek myths and need a nice cup of tea.’ Zenna put her head out of the door and called to Annie, then came back in and sat down.

‘I don’t think I can drink anything, thank you. I am full of lemon ice and hot chocolate.’ She tried not to think about the episode in Gunter’s, but it kept insisting on being worried at, like a sore tooth. ‘Why should he think anything so foolish as that? William is five years younger than I am.’

‘Perhaps he’s jea—’ Zenna caught herself and bit off the word. ‘Perhaps he is just abnormally suspicious,’ she said soothingly. ‘Tell me all about Gunter’s, I have always wanted to try one of their ices.’

Chapter Eight

‘There was a time—can it be just a few days ago?—when my only worry was earning my living,’ Tallie lamented as the hackney carriage made its way along Oxford Street. ‘Now I have to worry about my position in Society—or lack of it; how to invest a ridiculous amount of money wisely; how to keep an interfering, autocratic aristocrat from discovering my secrets and how to persuade you to allow me to buy you a dress or two.’

‘Tallie, I simply cannot accept expensive presents …’ Zenna protested for the third time that morning.

‘I am not trying to give you expensive presents—just one evening dress so we can go to parties together. Please, Zenna. I need your support. Lady Parry is so kind, but it is not the same as a friend my own age. And it would give me such pleasure to give you a present.’ She smiled hopefully at her friend, who sighed and smiled back.

‘Very well, and thank you, Tallie. It would be very pleasant to have a nice evening gown, I have to admit, but as for the other gowns you were talking of, that is far too much.’

‘Business expenses,’ Tallie said firmly. ‘We can put them down as business expenses. You must have some good day dresses for interviewing teachers and parents. We are aiming at the highest quality for this school, are we not?’

Zenna began to protest that arguing with Tallie was more exhausting than trying to handle a room full of six-year-old boys when the hackney pulled up outside the Pantheon Bazaar and Tallie got to her feet. ‘We will start here, then I thought Hardin and Howell, Stagg and Mantle’s and Clark and Debenham’s.’ She smiled at Zenna, who descended onto the pavement looking apprehensive at this formidable list. ‘Then this afternoon, Dickens and Smith …’ She plunged into the shop pursued by Zenna, who was grimly resolving that, whatever else the day held, it was going to include a lengthy pause at Gunter’s. A very lengthy one indeed.

At four o’clock that afternoon two very weary young ladies made their way up to Tallie’s bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, scattering parcels and bandboxes on the floor as they did so. Behind them came the faint sounds of little Annie struggling up the stairs with still more packages.

‘My feet!’ Zenna moaned, pulling off her shoes and wriggling her toes with a gasp of relief.

Tallie levered herself up on her elbows from her position prone on the mattress and sighed happily. ‘Mine too. Oh, thank you, Annie. Put them in the corner, please, and then please bring us some tea up.’ She dragged the pillows up into a heap and sat back against them. ‘A nice cup of tea and then all the fun of unwrapping everything.’ She smiled at Zenna coaxingly. ‘Admit it, Zenna, you did enjoy it a little bit, did you not?’

‘Well … yes, I have to confess I did. Thank you very much for the gown and the slippers and gloves. It felt very good to dress up for once. But we do seem to have bought a vast amount of things—do you think you have almost everything you need now?’

‘I should not think so for a minute,’ Tallie replied, reflecting on the ladies’ boudoirs she had glimpsed so frequently in her career as a milliner. ‘Lady Parry would be very disappointed if she does not have the opportunity to supervise my shopping. No, this was just so that I did not feel too drab in the first few days. My old pelisse and walking dress are on their last prayers, all my stockings have been darned and both my pairs of gloves have got splits in the seams.’

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the images of the day’s extravagances swirl across her memory. ‘It is fun to have a holiday and to be able to buy what one wants, but I am glad we have our business ventures to be working on, Zenna. I cannot feel comfortable with the thought of Society life. From what I have seen it is entirely composed of luxury and pleasure. I am sure I would soon become bored with nothing else to think of.’

Into the images of dress lengths and slippers, fans and feathers the picture of a tall, dark, elegant gentleman rose, quite unbidden. How did Lord Arndale spend his time? she wondered. In the company of actresses and opera dancers? At the card tables? At cock-fights and the prize-ring? She tried to imagine that coolly sardonic expression giving way to excitement , passion, anticipation—and failed. His lordship was undoubtedly a prime example of the indolent and aloof members of Society whose way of life she was about to sample. It would be satisfying to cause some emotion to cross those chiselled features or to provoke a response that was neither controlled nor temperate. A small smile caught at the corners of Tallie’s lips. Yes, very satisfying indeed.

Two days later the indolent and aloof gentleman in question mounted the steps of the house in Upper Wimpole Street and found himself unexpectedly encountering almost the entire household.

Nick had spent a taxing morning with his steward, who had come up from the country estates with a formidable pile of problems and questions to be resolved, and later that afternoon he suspected he was going to have to have an equally long list of details to decide with Mr Dover before the final work could be completed on Miss Gower’s will. That evening he fully intended leaving young William to his own devices, however dubious they sounded, and relaxing with a small group of friends over dinner, cards and several bottles of excellent brandy.

But he had been waylaid by his aunt and asked to call upon Miss Grey. ‘You will tell her I will collect her in my carriage at ten on Wednesday morning, will you not, Nicholas dear? And if you can establish how many trunks she has, then Rainbird can organise the carrier.’ She had stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘Thank you, dearest.’ And she had rushed away in her usual whirlwind manner before he could enquire why a note would not serve the purpose just as well.

Now he was here, he might as well take the opportunity of smoothing over the friction from their last encounter. He could not really believe she had set her sights on young William Parry, but it had been bad tactics to let her see he was concerned. If she was the sort of woman who saw opposition as a challenge, she might attempt to attach the lad’s interest simply as a game. And William was far too young to be breaking his heart over an older woman Nick decided, conveniently forgetting his own initiation into the arts of love at the age of seventeen by a beautiful, sophisticated lady more than ten years his senior.

The door was opened by a diminutive maid with a snub nose, freckles, an apron too large for her and an expression of alarm. ‘Oh, sir! Miss Grey? Oh, yes, sir! I’ll tell her you’re here, sir, if you’ll just wait in the front parlour, sir.’

She flung open the door to let him in, appeared to realise she should have asked his name to announce him, gave a scared squeak and shut the door again behind him. Nick found himself in a cosy, slightly shabby room with an indefinable air of comfort and femininity. The latter quality was enhanced by the presence on the sofa of an enchantingly pretty girl with large blue eyes and a mass of blonde curls. Tumbled in a pile by her side were undergarments of a most frivolous, intimate and dainty variety.

She bundled the lingerie under a cushion with what struck Nick as admirable quick-wittedness and got to her feet, placing a thimble and needle on the table beside her. ‘I am sorry, sir,’ she said, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. ‘Annie is not yet trained as a downstairs maid and I am afraid she does not always remember to announce callers.’

‘Nicholas Stangate. I called to see Miss Grey. May I presume to guess I am addressing Miss Amelie LeNoir? I apologise for disturbing you.’ It would not be the slightest hardship to disturb Miss LeNoir, he reflected, watching the artless pleasure at his recognition, the lovely figure in a surprisingly modest afternoon dress, the parted lips and soft curves. No hardship at all.

‘Oh, how did you guess? Your lordship,’ she added hastily, bobbing a curtsy.

‘You were described to me,’ Nick said simply, enjoying the deepening of the flush of pleasure, the flutter of the long lashes. For a man who had always favoured dark-haired women, his life suddenly appeared to be full of blondes. It made an agreeable change.

‘I … I had better go and find Tal … Miss Grey, my lord. One simply cannot rely on Annie. Will you not sit down?’ She gestured at the sofa, recalled her mending, hastily whisked it from under the cushion to under her arm and hurried out.

Nick grinned. The enchantingly fresh young woman who had just fluttered out was either an exceptional actress or that contradiction in terms, a chaste opera dancer, just as Talitha Grey had said. Instead of taking the proffered seat, he began to prowl around the room. It was a rare glimpse for a man into a feminine world that was not arranged for display or entertaining, but simply for a group of women to pass their daily lives in.

A neat stack of account books next to a spike impaling tradesmen’s bills. A basket of laces, ribbons and artificial flowers by a sewing box and a large velvet pincushion studded with glass-headed pins. A pile of novels and some copies of fashion journals upon a shelf. A chessboard set out for the start of a game. He moved a pawn in an opening gambit and continued to look around. A quill stained with red ink lay beside an open exercise book.

Nick paused and flicked open a page of the lexicon next to the exercise book. Greek! The door behind him opened to reveal not Miss Grey, but her governess friend. ‘Miss Scott, good afternoon. You have surprised me reading what I imagine must be your Greek lexicon.’

‘Yes, my lord.’ She stood there, regarding him from under level dark brows. He expected disapproval; instead, he found himself unable to interpret the assessing look in her eyes. ‘I teach both Latin and Greek, besides the modern languages.’