An accomplished beauty…

But a most unsuitable match!

Natalya Fairchild can’t help but be drawn to Tristan Quintrell, Lord Dalmorren, with his effortless charisma, even if he’s not her intended bridegroom. Tristan is an eligible society catch…whereas Natalya’s unknown heritage could label her ruined. As Tristan helps Natalya investigate her mysterious past, she starts to hope the truth of her conception won’t destroy her prospects…of a life with Tristan!

SARAH MALLORY grew up in the West Country, England, telling stories. She moved to Yorkshire with her young family, but after nearly thirty years of living in a farmhouse on the Pennines she has now moved to live by the sea in Scotland. Sarah is an award-winning novelist, with more than twenty books published by Mills & Boon Historical. She loves to hear from readers and you can reach her via her website at: sarahmallory.com.

Also by Sarah Mallory

The Duke’s Secret Heir

Pursued for the Viscount’s Vengeance

His Countess for a Week

The Infamous Arrandales miniseries

The Chaperon’s Seduction

Temptation of a Governess

Return of the Runaway

The Outcast’s Redemption

Saved from Disgrace miniseries

The Ton’s Most Notorious Rake

Beauty and the Brooding Lord

The Highborn Housekeeper

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Mysterious Miss Fairchild

Sarah Mallory

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90143-1

THE MYSTERIOUS MISS FAIRCHILD

© 2020 Sarah Mallory

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For my family. All of them. Wherever they are.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

‘Tristan, I want to take a wife!’

Tristan Quintrell, Lord Dalmorren, paused a moment before replying to the young man standing on the other side of the desk.

‘Well, that has surprised me,’ he said at last. ‘I knew you wanted something, Freddie, but I thought you needed me to bail you out.’

‘Good God, no!’ Young Mr Erwin looked aggrieved at the suggestion. ‘I ain’t always in dun territory, you know.’

‘Forgive me,’ murmured his host drily, ‘but it has been the reason for all your other visits to Dalmorren this past year.’

The young man flushed slightly. ‘Well, a fellow has to kick up a bit of a dust when he is first on the town, you know. And besides, you told me to come to you rather than Mama if I needed funds. But that’s not why I am here, Tristan. I am in love!’

This statement, delivered in ecstatic accents, did not impress his host. It was on the tip of Tristan’s tongue to retort that, having not yet reached one-and-twenty, Freddie would fall in and out of love a dozen times before settling down, but he held back. The glowing look in the young man’s eyes and his beatific smile persuaded him that Freddie was well and truly smitten.

A mere eight years separated the two men. Freddie was the son of Tristan’s sister. She was sixteen years older than he and his only remaining sibling, the others having failed to survive beyond the nursery years. Her late spouse had taken the precaution of making his brother-in-law joint guardian of his only child. Tristan had barely reached his majority when his own father died and that circumstance, together with the responsibility for his widowed sister and her son three years later, had weighed heavily upon the young Lord Dalmorren, giving him a maturity well beyond his years. He therefore did not mock Freddie for his infatuation. Instead he got up from his desk and walked across his study to the side table, where he poured two glasses of Madeira.

‘Here.’ He handed one to Freddie. ‘I think you had best sit down and tell me all about it.’

The boy needed no second bidding. He pulled a chair close to the desk and sat down, saying eagerly, ‘We met in Bath, in February. Do you recall I told you I was going there with Gore Conyer? His family lives there. I never expected to like the place above half, but then I saw Her.’

‘And does the lady have a name?’

Freddie put down his glass and clasped his hands together. He said ecstatically. ‘Miss Fairchild, but she allows me to call her Lya!’

‘Leah, the name of Jacob’s wife, in the Bible?’ Tristan raised an eyebrow and said drily, ‘I believe that means weary, in Hebrew.’

Freddie shook his head, saying impatiently, ‘No, no, that’s not it at all. Quite absurd. Her name is Natalya, but those close to her use the shortened form.’ His face relaxed into another blissful smile. ‘Lya.’

With a great effort of will Tristan forbore to tease him. ‘You had best tell me where it was you first saw the lady.’

‘It was just as we were leaving the theatre. Gore’s parents had hired a box for us to see Macbeth. I am not a lover of Shakespeare, but it would have been churlish not to go. At the end, Gore and I waited in the foyer for Mr and Mrs Conyer to join us. They know everyone in Bath, you see, and it took them an age to make their way to the door. But that’s by the bye! I happened to look round and there she was, making her way out of the theatre with an old lady wearing the most outmoded fashions!’

He noted Tristan’s look of surprise and laughed. ‘No, it wasn’t Natalya in the odd clothes. She was looking very elegant in cream muslin, but her companion was dressed in the most shocking bright green creation and a headpiece bedecked with any number of feathers and ribbons. That’s what attracted my attention, to begin with, until I saw Miss Fairchild. Our eyes met and…that was it. I knew I was in love—’ He broke off and gave a loud sigh. ‘Oh, Tristan, if you could only have been there.’

‘I am glad I was not,’ retorted his uncle, grimacing. ‘I think I might have been very unwell!’

Freddie waved this aside. ‘I mean I wish you could have seen her. Then you would understand. She is the most beautiful creature! Face and figure quite perfect. Dark hair, coal-black eyes, an ivory complexion—exquisite!’

‘So what did you do?’

‘What could I do? I touched my hat as she went past.’

‘You disappoint me. I thought you would have immediately stepped up and demanded an introduction.’

‘If only I could have done so! Good God, Tris, I am not so lost to all good manners, you know. As it happens, it was a good thing I didn’t jump in. Mrs Conyer told me the old lady is Mrs Ancrum, one of Bath’s most respected residents and a stickler for propriety. Fortunately, the Conyers are acquainted with her and they presented me when we…er…happened to meet in the Pump Room.’

Tristan felt a smile tugging at his lips. ‘Goodness me. Shakespeare, the Pump Room—you grow old before your time, Nevvy.’

Freddie grinned. ‘I am merely getting in practice for when I have to take you there, my aged guardian! But enough funning.’ He put down his empty glass and leaned forward, fixing Tristan with his trusting blue eyes. ‘Tris, I am serious about this, I want to make her an offer, but I need to make sure I have your permission, first.’

‘And your mother’s agreement. She is your guardian, too, remember.’

‘Yes, yes, but Mama will not be a problem. She would never deny me my happiness. But that is not the only thing, I do not gain control of my inheritance until I reach five-and-twenty, so, until that time, I shall need an increase in my allowance, if I am to set up my own establishment.’

‘Naturally,’ murmured Tristan. ‘What do we know of Miss Fairchild, save that she is the most beautiful female you have ever clapped eyes on? What relation is she to this Mrs Ancrum?’

‘None. Natalya is an orphan. She lives in Sydney Place with her aunt and uncle. Mr and Mrs Pridham. They live very quietly, but they are perfectly respectable. And you are not to be thinking they have been putting Natalya in my way. Quite the opposite, in fact. She is closely chaperoned whenever she goes abroad, at balls she is permitted no more than two dances with any gentleman, and whenever I have called at the house Mrs Pridham ensures we are never alone. They never give one the least encouragement.’ His cheerful, open countenance clouded slightly. ‘To be frank, they are downright discouraging! That is why I want to make sure I have your blessing before I proceed.’

‘And have you mentioned it to your mother?’

‘Not yet. She has been in London with Grandmama, did you know?’

‘Yes. She wrote to tell me she had watched the procession of King Louis from Hyde Park to Grillon’s.’ Tristan’s mouth turned down. ‘I have no doubt the crowds will be even worse when the rest of the Allied Sovereigns arrive in June.’

Freddie waved this aside as an irrelevance. ‘She should be back at Frimley any day now, so I am on my way there to see her.’ He gave Tristan a boyish smile. ‘I thought I would stop off first and talk to you. I know that if you do not object, Mama will be happy.’

‘And how long do you plan to remain at Frimley?’

‘Oh, a week, perhaps two.’ He added, shyly, ‘I thought, when I return to Bath, I might take with me an invitation from Mama for Natalya to visit her at Frimley.’

‘I see.’

Tristan sat back and sipped his wine, digesting all he had heard. He was loath to dash Freddie’s hopes, but he was sure that his sister Katherine would be aghast at the idea of her only son taking a bride about whom they knew nothing.

He said, ‘I think it behoves us to find out a little more about the lady before you ask my sister for her blessing.’

‘Pridham is a gentleman and Lya is accepted everywhere in Bath. I cannot see that anything else is important.’

‘You might not, but you may be damned sure your mother will! What do you know of Miss Fairchild’s parents, or her fortune?’

Freddie jumped to his feet, a mutinous look on his face.

‘Are you forbidding the banns, Tristan? Because, by heaven, if you are—’

‘Oh, sit down, you young hothead, I am not forbidding anything, but your mother will need to be reassured before she will give her permission to your forming an attachment at your age.’

‘But she will come around to it, once she knows Natalya.’

‘I am sure she will, but in the meantime, she could make things very uncomfortable for the lady.’

‘Aye, so she could. Hell and damnation, Tristan, I have already written to Mama and told her I am coming to stay!’

‘Well, that need not change. She will be delighted to see you, I am sure. Only do not mention Miss Fairchild. At least not until I have made a few enquiries of my own.’

‘Oh?’ Freddie looked suspicious. ‘How are you going to do that?’

‘By going to Bath, what else?’ Tristan grinned. ‘At my advanced age, it might benefit me to…er…take the waters.’

‘Oh, oh, devil take it!’

The pianoforte resounded with an inharmonious discord as Natalya slammed her fingers down upon the keys. It expressed her mood perfectly, but she felt guilty for her outburst and immediately glanced around to make sure she was alone.

She took a deep breath. There was no point in taking her frustration out on the poor instrument. The piece was well within her ability, but she had not touched the pianoforte all week, that was the simple truth. She was tired of spending her time at her studies when other young ladies were out riding and walking and sallying forth for picnics. True, very few of her aunt and uncle’s acquaintances invited her to join such outings—with the exception of the Grishams, most families in Bath kept their distance—but even when she was invited, the Pridhams often refused, saying her studies were more important. Why, it was only this year that she had been allowed to attend the balls at the Assembly Rooms!

Uncle Pridham had assured her everything would change in June, when she reached one-and-twenty, but until then the strict regime of study must be maintained. She could hardly refuse to see the tutors employed by her uncle, but she could spend her time reading or sketching rather than practising at the pianoforte. It was a tiny act of rebellion and she was not particularly proud of it. She was grateful for her aunt and uncle’s efforts on her behalf, but sometimes she wished they would not try quite so hard.

There was a knock at the door and the music teacher was shown in. Natalya turned to him with an apologetic smile.

‘I fear you are going to be very disappointed with me this week, Mr Spark…’

Later, at the Assembly Rooms, Natalya sought out her friend Miss Grisham, a lively redhead in a gown of lemon muslin. She sat down beside her with an exaggerated sigh.

‘I am late, Jane, I know it. Pray do not scold me, I have had the…the devil of a day. Aggie is at outs with me because I tore my new muslin gown and forgot to tell her and there is nothing more uncomfortable than a maid’s sulks, you know. Then I had to endure two hours of Italian conversation and, to cap it all, Mr Spark read me a lecture because I had not perfected Mr Handel’s Sarabande.’

‘Much you care for that,’ replied her friend, smiling. ‘But what was it you said about Italian, Lya—has Mr Pridham managed to find you a new teacher?’

‘Yes, we had our first lesson this morning. Although I wonder my uncle should put himself to the trouble. It is little more than a month now until I come of age and he knows I intend to give up my studies then.’

‘And is he young and handsome, this new teacher?’ Jane asked her.

‘He is neither of those things.’ Natalya shuddered. ‘He is very short and very dark, with lascivious eyes and a wet mouth. I fear, if he had the opportunity, the signor would try to make love to me and I should be obliged to stab him with my hatpin. Thankfully, my aunt insists I am never alone with any member of the male sex.’ She giggled. ‘I know I have complained about that in the past, but in this instance, I am extremely grateful.’

‘And so you should be, Lya,’ replied her friend. ‘The Pridhams take extremely good care of you, you know.’

‘Yes, I do know. I am aware how fortunate I am to have such caring guardians, but it is all so, so stifling!’ She sighed. ‘I only wish I knew what they mean by it all.’

‘To keep you safe, of course. To protect your reputation and wrap you in a positive cloud of respectability in order that you can make a most advantageous marriage!’

Natalya shook her head, all desire to laugh gone. ‘I do not think that can be the case. Else why did they discourage Lord Austwick from making me an offer? He is as rich as Croesus and an earl to boot. And why am I to have all these extra lessons? Music, French and Italian. Russian history, to say nothing of the geometry and philosophy and all the other things I studied while at school! No woman is educated to this level merely to become a wife!’

Jane thought that a very good joke and she said nothing more, knowing her friend would be scandalised if she knew Natalya was in earnest. The disadvantage of receiving such an extensive education was that one learned a great many things that were usually kept hidden from young ladies. At school, Natalya’s tutors had been happy to feed her voracious reading habits, with the result that she knew a great deal more about the ways of the world, including the fact that many otherwise respectable gentlemen had liaisons with women other than their wives.

Marriage was a commercial matter; mistresses were for enjoyment. Many men set up a mistress and kept her in luxury, merely to amuse and entertain them. At the select and very expensive educational establishment where she had spent her childhood, several girls were openly acknowledged as the children of one or more noble parents, but born out of wedlock.

Natalya suspected she was the product of such a liaison, even though no one had ever spoken of it. With the happy optimism of youth, she had not thought too deeply about it, until the past two years, when she had begun to attend balls and assemblies.

‘You must learn how to go on in society,’ Mr Pridham had told her. ‘You need to know how to dance and converse and to be at ease in company.’

And she had learned. She enjoyed the company and the dancing, but it was not long before she realised she was different. She became painfully aware that, with the exception of elderly Mrs Ancrum and the Grishams, she was tolerated, rather than widely accepted by the high sticklers of Bath society. That did not discompose her, neither did the lack of friends worry her, for she was far too busy to feel lonely, but whereas most chaperons actively encouraged their charges to attract the attentions of eligible gentlemen, the Pridhams went out of their way to keep potential suitors at bay. She wondered why that should be and just what her aunt and uncle had planned for her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Mrs Grisham came up to them in a rustle of silken skirts.

‘Now, now, girls, what are you doing, sitting here with your heads together? That is no way to attract dancing partners! Jane, here is Mr Carrey come to beg the pleasure of your company for the next dance.’ She gestured to the young man beside her, who flushed slightly.

‘Yes, indeed, Miss Grisham, if you would do me the honour?’

‘Off you go now, Jane, and I shall sit here and keep Miss Fairchild company.’ With a good-natured laugh she took her daughter’s place beside Natalya and patted her hand. ‘Well, well, my dear, ’tis a sad crush in here tonight, and no mistake, but if you sit up straight, my dear, and smile, I am sure you will not have to wait long for a partner. I do not know what Alice Pridham is doing, letting you skulk in a corner like this.’

‘My aunt is with her friends, ma’am, and I slipped away to talk to Jane.’

Mrs Grisham tutted. ‘That is no way to get yourself noticed.’

‘Really, ma’am, I am very happy to sit here.’

‘Nonsense. A young thing like you should be on the dance floor and giving us the pleasure of seeing you tripping about!’ She glanced up and ended with a note of satisfaction, ‘And we shall not have to wait much longer for that pleasure, I fancy!’

Mr Pridham was approaching, accompanied by a stranger whose appearance was drawing admiring glances from the ladies as he crossed the room. If the gentleman was aware of the stir he was creating, he showed no sign of it. His style was not flamboyant, but he had an understated elegance, from his light brown hair, cut fashionably short and gleaming in the candlelight, to the toes of his dancing shoes. Natalya could find no fault with his appearance. His dark coat fitted without a crease across his broad shoulders, the white waistcoat was buttoned smoothly over his flat stomach while tight breeches and silk stockings clung to long, powerful legs.

Closer inspection showed his lean countenance was undeniably handsome but he was not smiling and his dark brows were drawn together, as if he was here for duty rather than pleasure. Natalya noticed, too, that her uncle was behaving oddly. Never a genial man, he was decidedly ill at ease as he performed the introductions.

‘Natalya, my dear. Lord Dalmorren is wishful to dance with you.’

Dalmorren. She had heard the name before, but where? She looked again at his countenance. He looked familiar, but it was a fleeting impression and she dismissed it as a mere fancy.

The gentleman bowed. ‘I would be honoured if you would stand up with me, Miss Fairchild.’

Natalya thought his satin waistcoat and the intricately tied cravat hinted at a man of fashion. A man of ease and pleasure. Yet his voice was as serious as his demeanour and she could read nothing from his hard, slate-grey eyes. She was even more intrigued.

With a faint smile of acceptance, she rose and placed her fingers on his proffered arm. The fine wool sleeve was soft as silk to the touch, but beneath she was aware of iron hard muscle. Perhaps he was a sportsman, more at home in the saddle than the ballroom. That might account for his rather cold manner. However, when they began to dance, his lithe grace sent a frisson of pleasure running through her and Natalya’s heart gave a little skip. She spent most of her time dancing with awkward young men or elderly friends of the Pridhams. It was pleasant, for once, to have such an accomplished partner. Her curiosity in the man grew.

‘Are you newly come to Bath, my lord?’ she ventured.

‘I arrived in Bath two days ago.’

His reply was curt, but she excused him since the movement of the dance was about to separate them. When they came back together, she tried again.

‘You are perhaps an acquaintance of my uncle?’

‘I never met him before in my life.’ Natalya looked at him in surprise and he continued, ‘The Master of Ceremonies introduced us. I wanted to dance with you, you see.’

He smiled suddenly and she almost missed a step. Quickly she dragged her gaze away from him. She felt winded by the effect that smile had upon her. It transformed his face, warming his eyes, inviting her to smile back. It was a new experience for Natalya. She was at once frightened and excited. Exhilarated. Heavens, so this was the sensation that changed females from rational beings into simpering, giggling idiots. She had always scoffed when other girls had spoken of it and now here she was, blushing and tongue-tied merely because a man had smiled at her.

‘How, how flattering,’ was all she could manage to utter.

Thankfully, they separated again and she assumed what she hoped was a look of polite enjoyment. It was not only to cover her confusion. Aunt and Uncle Pridham did not like her to show interest in any gentleman and they would be closely watching her progress with Lord Dalmorren.

After two dances, Tristan led his partner off the floor, wondering what Freddie saw in Miss Natalya Fairchild. True, she danced gracefully and she had a dark beauty, no doubt about it. She was a little taller than average and her figure was good. Her complexion was flawless and the hair piled upon her head shone like a raven’s wing. Freddie was wrong about her eyes, though, he thought now. They were not black, but a deep, deep brown.

But for all that she lacked personality. She had made nothing but commonplace utterances during their time together. No different from the debutantes one came across in town. Tristan began to feel the familiar ennui creeping over him. In other circumstances he would bow, walk away and forget the chit, but Freddie had declared this was the woman he wanted to marry and, if he was to blurt this out to his doting mother, Katherine would immediately apply to Tristan as joint guardian for advice. Clearly, then, he must discover something he could pass on.

He glanced now at the young lady on his arm, trying to be charitable. Perhaps she was shy. When he had observed her from across the room she had looked animated enough, talking and laughing with her friend, but it was possible she was overawed by the occasion and needed to grow a little accustomed to his presence.

‘Perhaps, Miss Fairchild, you would do me the honour of standing up with me again before the end of the evening.’

‘Alas, my lord, that is not possible. My aunt and uncle do not allow me more than two dances with anyone.’

‘I see. Very commendable. Then I shall call upon you in the morning.’

She showed no sign of being flattered by his attentions. There were no maidenly blushes, merely a slight inclination of the head and a cool response.

‘Mrs Pridham will be delighted to see you, I am sure, but you will not find me at home. I shall be at my drawing lesson tomorrow morning.’

‘Later in the day, then.’

‘I shall be studying astronomy.’

‘Wednesday?’

‘I have dancing lessons in the morning and botany in the afternoon. And Thursday,’ she added, after an infinitesimal pause, ‘I study politics, currently Russia’s part in the recent wars.’

Tristan bit back an oath, but not quite quickly enough, and she gave a choke of laughter.

‘Oh, dear! Pray do not take it personally, my lord. I am telling you nothing but the truth. My days are indeed very busy.’

‘If you are trying to discourage me, Miss Fairchild, you are succeeding admirably!’

‘I am? Oh, dear. I am speaking no more than the truth. My aunt and uncle are eager that I should continue to improve my mind. I play chess regularly, too.’ She looked up at him, dispelling any notion that she was shy. ‘Does the idea of an educated female frighten you, my lord?’

Her face was alive with mischief and he felt a sudden drumbeat of alarm.

By heaven, that look is enchanting! It is no wonder Freddie is smitten.

He wanted to respond, to continue the conversation, but Mrs Pridham came bustling up.

‘Ah, Natalya. There you are, my dear!’

He saw the laughter fade from those dark eyes as her aunt took her arm.

‘Have you forgotten this next dance is promised to Lord Fossbridge?’ Mrs Pridham turned to Tristan, bestowing on him a smile that was somewhat forced. ‘I am sorry I must carry her away, my lord, but you understand how it is.’

In his mind he quickly sorted through the persons Mr King had presented to him that evening. If he remembered correctly, Fossbridge was an aged fellow, old enough to be Natalya’s grandfather. Certainly not his rival. Or rather, not Freddie’s rival, he corrected himself. His interest in Miss Fairchild was purely on behalf of his nephew.

He bowed. ‘I understand perfectly, ma’am. However…’ Mrs Pridham halted and gave him an enquiring look ‘…Miss Fairchild has been telling me of her interest in astronomy. May I be so bold as to invite you both—and Mr Pridham, naturally—to join me as my guests at Mr Walker’s lecture this Friday? It is to be held at the Exhibition Rooms in Bond Street. As you know, ma’am, I am newly arrived in Bath and to attend such an event alone…’

He let the words hang, his tone of voice and expression inviting her to sympathise with him. As he had hoped, Mrs Pridham was flustered, torn between a flat refusal and wanting to oblige him.

‘Why—why, that is very kind of you, my lord. We had not thought. That is—’

Tristan cut in ruthlessly. ‘I am delighted that you have accepted, ma’am, thank you. I shall call at Sydney Place in good time to convey you all to the lecture.’

With a smile and a bow, he walked away before she could say more. Now all he had to do was to recall where the devil he had seen the advertisement for the lecture and obtain tickets, which at this late stage might require him to pay out an extortionate amount to persuade someone to give up their seats. He would also need to hire a carriage grand enough and large enough to convey them all to the Exhibition Rooms. The Dalmorren travelling chaise would not do at all, since it could not accommodate more than two persons.

His eyes narrowed slightly and he muttered grimly, ‘I hope you appreciate what I am doing for you, Freddie. And I hope she is worth it!’

Chapter Two

On Friday evening, Natalya dutifully made her way to her aunt’s bedchamber at the front of the house for approval. She stood for a moment, regarding herself in the cheval mirror, then turned about so quickly that the skirts of her pink muslin flew out like an umbrella.

‘Well, Aunt, will I do?’

She threw a slightly defiant look at Mrs Pridham, who was watching her with a critical eye.

‘Very pretty, my dear,’ she said at last.

Natalya put a hand to the lace shawl that covered her shoulders.

‘Do I really need to wear a fichu? The neckline is very modest.’

‘Your uncle and I would prefer you not to draw the attention of all and sundry tonight.’

‘Really, Aunt, I am at a loss to know why you buy me fashionable gowns, if you do not wish me to attract attention.’

‘You need to learn all the graces, my dear, and that includes how to dress to advantage.’

‘But why, ma’am?’ Natalya pressed her. ‘For what role am I being prepared?’

‘Why, to be a lady, my dear, what else?’ Her aunt’s eyes slid away from Natalya’s questioning look. ‘Goodness, is that the time? Lord Dalmorren will be here soon and I have not yet finished my preparations. Oh, well, Mr Pridham must entertain him, when he comes!’

‘I could go down, Aunt, since I am ready.’ Natalya knew her suggestion would be rejected, but she made it all the same.

‘Without a chaperon? Good heavens, no.’

‘But why not? He can hardly seduce me in your drawing room, with servants just outside the door.’

‘This is no time for frivolity, Natalya,’ was the crisp reply. ‘A young lady can never be too careful about her reputation, especially one in your situation. Now, enough chattering. Off you go to your room and let me get on.’

Natalya left her, but instead of returning to her room she paused on the landing, staring out of the window, across the street towards the lush green of Sydney Gardens. It made no sense. Her education had been equal, if not better than most young men would receive, Bath’s finest modistes supplied her gowns with no thought to the cost, but she could not see that the purpose of this was to find her a husband.

When she had left school and joined the Pridhams in Bath she had been seventeen years old, eager and excited about the future. She had asked them if she was to have a London Season, only to be told that it was not necessary. They had given no reason, merely told her that Bath held sufficient amusements. Amusements, yes, but to what end? She had spent the last four years in Bath and any gentleman who showed the slightest interest in her was positively discouraged.

A movement caught her attention and she looked down as a large coach and four drew up at their door and Lord Dalmorren emerged. She smiled when she recalled how his invitation to them all to go to the astronomy lecture had taken Mrs Pridham by surprise. He had given her no time to utter a refusal and Natalya appreciated his ruthless tactics, but her smile faded as she watched him disappear into the house. It was not that she did not want to attend the lecture, but she remembered how she had reacted to His Lordship’s attentions on the dance floor. How his smile had caused her heart to behave most alarmingly. It would be difficult to relax and enjoy herself when she knew her aunt and uncle would be watching and listening for the slightest hint of a flirtation between herself and Lord Dalmorren.

As instructed, Natalya waited until the Pridhams had both gone down to the drawing room before she made her appearance. Her uncle was talking with Lord Dalmorren, who did no more than incline his head in greeting when Natalya came in. Almost immediately Mrs Pridham suggested they should be going, saying she would not want to keep His Lordship’s horses standing any longer than necessary in such a cold wind.

Lord Dalmorren handed the ladies into the waiting carriage with polite civility. He said nothing on the short journey to Bond Street and when they reached the Exhibition Rooms, he took a seat at the end of the row, next to Mr Pridham. Natalya should have felt relieved that he had shown no interest in her at all. Instead she felt a vague disappointment. But why should she be disappointed? She had done nothing to ingratiate herself with him at the Assembly Rooms. Why, he had even suggested that she was trying to discourage him! She peeped along the row. He was deep in conversation with her uncle. Perhaps he really did want company this evening, yet she found it difficult to believe that a gentleman as self-assured as His Lordship would be ill at ease in attending a lecture alone. He was an ainigma, as her Greek tutor used to say.

At the interval everyone moved into the next room, where refreshments were set out on a long table. There were no seats and in the crowded room the Pridhams were soon drawn into conversation with an acquaintance, leaving Natalya to drink her tea with Lord Dalmorren. Good manners dictated that they should not stand in silence.

‘It is certainly very full tonight,’ she remarked, looking about her. ‘There is not a seat to be had. You were fortunate to obtain four tickets at such short notice, my lord. I understand they were in great demand.’

‘I was, wasn’t I?’

She was not fooled by his bland reply and could not resist asking him if he had been obliged to purchase them from other ticket holders.

‘Now why should I want to go to so much trouble?’

‘That I do not know,’ she said, seriously considering the question. ‘I cannot think you are trying to fix your interest with me.’ She met his eyes and flushed a little. ‘Pray do not think this is any false modesty on my part, I am aware I did not particularly shine at the Upper Rooms on Monday and I do not have the advantages of birth or a fortune to recommend me.’

‘No, you do not.’

She gave an uncertain laugh. ‘Goodness, that is blunt speaking indeed. You are nothing if not honest, my lord!’

‘I beg your pardon, but from the little I know of you I believe you prefer honesty, so I am compelled to say that I came to Bath for the sole purpose of seeking you out, after a young relative of mine mentioned you to me. Frederick Erwin.’

‘Oh, Mr Erwin!’ Natalya recalled now where she had heard Lord Dalmorren’s name before. It explained that feeling of recognition, too. Freddie’s eyes were more blue than grey and his hair much fairer, but there was a definite similarity between the two men. She smiled. ‘Ah, yes. I hope he is well?’

‘Very well. He is paying a visit to his mother at present. In Surrey.’

‘Oh. I thought he had gone to town.’

‘No, he came to Dalmorren to see me. He is my ward, you see. His mother and I are joint guardians of his inheritance which, by the bye, will not be under his control for another four years.’

Understanding dawned and, with it, indignation. She said, ‘Are you telling me this in case I have…designs…upon Freddie?’

She did not miss the faint look of surprise when she said the name. Why should she not? She and Freddie were friends, and it was His Lordship’s mistake if he thought it suggested they were anything more. How dare he be so presumptuous!

‘And do you?’

His words were a challenge and she felt a flash of anger, but before she could respond Mrs Pridham was at her side and she could do no more than send the odious man a glare of rebuke.

‘People are beginning to return to their seats, Natalya. Shall we go in?’

There was no jockeying for position, but Natalya could never afterwards explain how she found herself sitting between Lord Dalmorren and the Pridhams. A glance showed they were not pleased with the situation, but short of her aunt insisting they should exchange seats and causing the sort of disturbance they abhorred, there was nothing to be done. Natalya put up her chin and stared pointedly at the lectern, waiting for the speaker to appear.

‘To continue our conversation,’ Lord Dalmorren murmured, ‘I was about to ask how well you know my nephew.’

‘Mr Erwin is a very charming gentleman. I would like to think we are friends.’

She was about to add that they were nothing more than friends, when her aunt’s fan came down in a sharp tap on her arm.

‘Enough talk now. Mr Walker is about to speak again.’

Natalya lapsed into silence. She fixed her attention upon the speaker, but the seats were very close and she was painfully aware of Lord Dalmorren beside her. The slightest move and her shoulder brushed his sleeve. She could not help glancing at his muscular thigh, only inches from her own. The man was like a magnet, drawing her closer, and it was an effort not to lean against him. The idea was unsettling. Disturbing. It was also very annoying, because Natalya considered herself an intelligent, sensible female. She was not given to fanciful ideas and had often mocked her schoolfriends when they sighed and pined over some man.

With great determination she dragged her attention back to Mr Walker and tried to concentrate upon his talk. The only stars that interested her were in the night sky, not in her eyes!

Despite her best efforts, during the days that followed, Natalya could not forget Lord Dalmorren. She found herself thinking about him almost constantly. When someone mentioned his name to the Pridhams as they came out from church, she strained her ears to listen. She learned the Dalmorrens were an ancient family and a rich one, so the Pridhams could not object to his lineage or his fortune. Why, then, were they so loath to pursue the acquaintance? Why were they keeping her a virtual prisoner?

Natalya had always been chaperoned, but for a whole week following Mr Walker’s lecture her aunt or uncle insisted upon escorting her personally to and from her various lessons. Mr Pridham even decided they should forgo all evening engagements. It was thus over a week later that she and Lord Dalmorren met again.

It was the regular Monday ball at the Assembly Rooms and she spotted his tall figure across the room. She thought he might ignore her. After all, he had not called at the house and had made no attempt to see her since the lecture. He had thought she wanted to marry Freddie. Perhaps he had realised it was not the case and no longer had any interest in her.

Natalya’s disappointment at that thought was severe. Not because she felt any particular liking for him, she told herself, but since Freddie Erwin had left Bath there were so few young gentlemen for her to dance with, certainly none as accomplished as Lord Dalmorren. That was all it was. A very natural wish to dance with someone who was neither a schoolboy nor an octogenarian.

Aunt Pridham pinched her arm. ‘Lord Dalmorren is coming over,’ she hissed. ‘After accepting his invitation to Mr Walker’s lecture, we could not refuse when he asked if he might dance with you. Goodness knows I suppose he must entertain himself somehow while he is in Bath, but you will not encourage him, Natalya, do you understand me?’

And there he was, standing before her, smiling and looking even more handsome than she remembered.

‘This is our dance, I believe, Miss Fairchild.’

Her chin went up and the tiny spark of rebellion within flickered a little brighter. Why should she not encourage Lord Dalmorren? Why should she not enjoy a man’s attentions, even a mild flirtation, if it were offered? What harm could there be in it?

Then he smiled and, when she felt the full force of his charm, all her rebellious spirit faded like mist before the sun. She was so nervous around this man she doubted if she would even be able to dance, let alone flirt with him!

Natalya took his arm and accompanied him to the dance floor, just as she had two weeks earlier. This time, however, she was aware that her pulse was beating a little faster and she was far more conscious of his presence. Just the touch of his hand made her jump. It was not merely her aunt and uncle’s scrutiny that made her concentrate on her steps. She felt awkward, tongue-tied, as if she might burst into flames if she allowed herself to enjoy the dance. She kept her conversation to the mundane, giving little more than monosyllabic replies, and by the time he escorted her off the floor at the end of the dance she felt thoroughly wretched. Any liking he had for her would surely be at an end.

‘And that is a good thing,’ she told herself as she watched him walk away and solicit the hand of pretty, blonde-haired Verena Summerton for the next dance. ‘Aunt and Uncle have told me he is only amusing himself, which I knew already. He as good as told me that he is in Bath to ascertain if I am a suitable bride for his nephew. No, my girl. You might find him charming, and amusing and fascinating, but you had much better stay away from him if you do not want to find yourself weeping into your pillow at nights!’

It was a noble resolve and Natalya found it quite easy to keep to it until the end of the evening. She had no partner for the last two dances and the Pridhams were signalling to her from across the room. She had just begun to make her way around the edge of the dance floor towards them when Lord Dalmorren stepped in front of her.

‘Will you honour me, Miss Fairchild, by joining me for the next set?’

You have another chance. He wants to dance with you again!

She knew she should refuse, but the words would not come, for he was smiling down at her and all she could think of was how much she wanted to dance with him. Silently she gave him her hand and allowed him to guide her to the remaining space in one of the sets that was forming.

Natalya fixed her eyes on the top button of her partner’s waistcoat, not daring to look at the Pridhams. They would be angry and she would have to endure a tremendous scold on the way home, but that was later. Now she was determined to enjoy herself. She would show him that she was no brainless ninny. She would impress him with her intelligence and wit. At least, she would if she could drag her gaze away from that waistcoat.

‘I do not think I have ever known a lady so busy,’ he remarked, as they waited for the music to begin. ‘Your every waking hour appears to be occupied.’

‘My aunt and uncle are anxious for me to improve myself by extensive study.’

‘And consequently, you do not have a moment to yourself.’

‘They are at pains to hire the very best tutors for me.’ She added after a moment, ‘Even my attendance at these assemblies is part of my education.’

‘Is it, by heaven!’

‘Why, yes. Every young lady needs to be able to dance.’

‘Every young lady needs to be able to converse in a sensible manner,’ he retorted.

That stung, all the more because she recognised the justice of it. Natalya threw him an angry look, but the dance had begun and she was obliged to hold her tongue as they stepped and turned and circled, but when the dance brought them back together, she immediately assured him that she could converse sensibly.

‘Every attempt to talk to you at the Exhibition Rooms was frustrated by your aunt and uncle. How is an acquaintance to progress under such circumstances?’

Thank heavens they separated at that point, for Natalya felt her cheeks growing hot with a flush of quite irrational pleasure. Was it possible he still wanted to become better acquainted with her, despite her dismal attempts at conversation? The idea nagged at her as the dance progressed to its conclusion.

At that point she half-expected her uncle to come and drag her from the dance floor, but when that did not happen she stood, tongue-tied, waiting for the second dance to begin.

‘I agree, a lecture is hardly the place for idle chatter,’ Lord Dalmorren continued as if there had been no break in their conversation. ‘However, discussion should follow, at some point, perhaps even debate, if the lecture was sufficiently interesting. Are you never allowed to speak to anyone?’

‘Of course! I am not a prisoner.’

Even as she uttered the words, Natalya remembered how confined she had been this past week. She glanced across the room to where her aunt and uncle were standing. They were watching her with ill-concealed rage that she had disobeyed them. She knew she was kept very close, but that had never worried her before. Her friends had told her of flirtations involving stolen moments and secret assignations, away from the critical gaze of chaperons, but Natalya had never wished to slip off and meet someone.

Until now. The idea was unsettling, but it could not be ignored and she discovered that the small spark of rebellion had not quite been extinguished. When the music finally stopped and her partner reached for her hand to escort her off the floor, she drew a deep breath.

‘Tomorrow is my art lesson,’ she remarked. ‘However, my tutor is gone to Bristol to visit his family and, if the good weather holds, I shall be walking to Beechen Cliff with Jane Grisham, to spend the day sketching vistas of the city.’

Heavens, what was she about? It was almost as if she was two people, one of them observing the other in horror. Even the sight of the Pridhams, who were watching their approach with angry impatience, could not stop her. She was shocked to hear herself continue with almost innocent nonchalance.

‘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 the recent war with Bonaparte. When she asked him if he would go to London for the forthcoming peace celebrations, Tristan grimaced.

‘My mother and sister were in London recently and wrote to tell me the crowds were extraordinary. I much prefer the quiet of the country to such a spectacle.’

She chuckled. ‘I believe the presence of the Allied Sovereigns in London will cause quite a stir.’

‘Town will be as full as it can hold with crowds pushing and shoving and trying to catch a glimpse of the great men. Will you go?’

‘No. I thought my uncle would wish to go. He has always been most interested in reports about the war, especially the Russian campaigns. He sent to London for newspapers, specifically to read about them. But he says we are to remain in Bath.’

‘And are you sorry?’

She paused to consider before answering.

‘I should enjoy the spectacle of the procession when they arrive from the Continent and to see these leaders that I have read so much about. It is a very special moment in history.’ She was silent, her gaze wistful, then she shook her head and gave a little laugh. ‘Not that I have any special reason to be there. I should only be adding to the crowds. So, no, on reflection, I shall not be sorry to remain here with my aunt and uncle.’

‘Are the Pridhams the only family you have?’ he asked her.

‘They are my guardians,’ she said carefully. ‘I understand I am an orphan.’

Her choice of words intrigued him. He said, ‘You do not know?’

‘I do not. I know nothing of my parents.’

She was uneasy with his questioning and he said no more. Instead he let the quiet of the warm day settle around them. He watched as she plied her pencil with quick, deft strokes. When his eyes strayed to her profile, he thought that she herself made an attractive picture. That straight little nose, the dainty chin and the high cheekbones gave her face a beauty that would last well beyond her youth.

His lips quirked.

I have misjudged Freddie, he thought. The boy has shown good taste in choosing this lady as the object of his affections.

Natalya looked round. ‘Something amuses you, my lord?’

He disclaimed quickly, saying, ‘No, no, an old joke, merely.’ He added, ‘You draw very well.’

‘Thank you. I am better at drawing landscapes than people, I think. My tutor despairs of my portraits.’

‘My sister could never master perspective.’

‘You come from a large family, my lord?’

‘One sister, that is all.’

‘And she is Freddie’s mama?’

‘You sound surprised, Miss Fairchild.’

She blushed. ‘Forgive me, it is just that…she must be somewhat older than yourself.’

‘Yes. Katherine is some sixteen years older than I. There were five other children between us, but they did not survive infancy.’

‘Oh, how sad for your parents. And for you, too. No doubt it brought you closer to your sister.’

He shrugged. ‘Not really. I was five when she married Erwin. If anything, I saw more of Freddie than his parents did. He is Katherine’s only child. His father died four years ago and he was left to our joint guardianship. Did Freddie not mention it to you?’

‘No.’ She added a few more deft lines to the paper, then paused to study the result. ‘We were not as close as you seem to think, my lord.’

‘No? I had the impression the two of you were about to form an alliance.’

She laughed at that. ‘Heavens, no. Whatever gave you that idea?’

‘Oh, merely something Freddie said to me.’

‘Then you misunderstood him, my lord. We are friends, nothing more. If your nephew thinks differently, then I am very sorry for it. I assure you I have not knowingly misled him.’

‘Thank you for your clarification, Miss Fairchild.’ The relief he felt at her answer rocked him and he felt the need to explain himself. He said, ‘Freddie confides a great deal in me, you see. I hold him in considerable affection. Not only that, I take my responsibilities as his guardian very seriously.’

‘I am glad to hear it. But, forgive me—’ she shot a quick look at him ‘—you look very young to be anyone’s guardian.’

The words sounded innocent enough, but he had the distinct impression she was teasing him.

He said stiffly, ‘I have been head of my family for several years.’

‘But you might have inherited that title as a schoolboy,’ she pointed out. ‘How old are you?’

Damn her impertinence!

‘Not that it is any of your business,’ he ground out. ‘I am eight-and-twenty.’

‘And Freddie is not yet one-and-twenty,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘The same age as me. He is far too young to be considering marriage.’

‘But you are not.’

She stared at her sketchpad, working with fierce concentration.

‘Believe me, my lord, I have no thoughts of matrimony.’

The mood had changed. She had grown serious and he was sorry for it. He tried for a lighter note.

‘I was under the impression that was the only thought in a young lady’s head.’

‘Not in mine!’ Her pencil slipped, putting a jagged line into her picture, and she gave a little huff of dismay. ‘Oh, dear, now it is ruined!’

‘Not at all. You can add a bird to your sky, Miss Fairchild.’ He put out his hand. ‘May I show you?’

She gave him the sketch pad and pencil and watched as he deftly turned the line into a wing, followed by a few more lines that transformed it into a bird, soaring high over the rooftops.

She laughed. ‘It is perhaps more the size of an eagle than a pigeon, but you have rescued my drawing. How clever of you.’

She held her hand out for the pad, but Tristan held on to it.

‘Not yet. I would like to see a little more of your work.’

He began to turn the pages and she gave a little sigh.

‘You will find it very commonplace. My tutor says I should practise more…’

She trailed off as he turned over another page and came face to face with a portrait of his nephew. He looked up at her, his jaw tightening.

‘So, you and my nephew are merely friends, are you, Miss Fairchild?

Natalya looked in dismay at the portrait. It was the best likeness she had ever achieved, quite recognisable as Freddie Erwin although it was far from perfect. The face was too lean, the bone structure well defined with a strong jawline and nose and the mouth sensuous but firm.

‘You draw the man you want to see,’ Monsieur Cordonnier, her drawing master had said, more than once, when he had studied her portraits. ‘The man of your dreams, perhaps, mademoiselle?’

Her heart sank. She had made Freddie look far more mature and handsome than he really was. A lucky accident that had delighted Freddie, but his uncle was clearly not so pleased. She tried to explain.

‘We were at the Grishams’ house, it was a sketching party. Freddie asked if he could sit for me. Ask Jane, she will tell you!’

She hated to sound so defensive. So guilty. Lord Dalmorren was studying the pencil sketch and made no effort to call across for her friend to corroborate her story.

‘It may be crude, madam, but it is clearly recognisable. It is very flattering, too, and much better than any of the others in here. I would say you have had plenty of practice with your subject.’

‘No! It was mere chance that I managed to draw him so well!’

‘You expect me to believe that? You have captured his likeness unmistakably.’ He flicked quickly through the rest of the sheets. ‘You have sketched half-a-dozen ladies, but not one other gentleman. That tells its own tale.’

‘It tells you nothing!’ she retorted, snatching the pad from his hands. ‘If you look closely you will see where I have torn out several pages. Those were portraits that were too unsatisfactory to keep! You are determined to think the worst of me.’

‘On the contrary, I came here today determined to think well of you.’

‘I do not care a jot for your opinion!’ She scrambled to her feet and hastily gathered up her pencils and shawl. ‘I shall bid you good day, Lord Dalmorren, and would be obliged if you would go away now!’

Natalya turned on her heel and hurried across to Jane, who had been resolutely concentrating on her sketchpad. However, when Natalya plumped down beside her she looked up.

‘Good heavens, Lya, you look positively murderous! What has Lord Dalmorren said to you?’ She leaned closer, her face alight with curiosity. ‘Did he flirt with you?’

‘Hush!’ Natalya glanced anxiously towards the maid, as much to gain time as to make sure the servant was still slumbering peacefully.

She would dearly have liked to pour out her indignation to her friend, but that would not be wise. Jane was a year younger than Natalya and a poor confidante. She had always envied Jane her close friendship with her mother, but she knew her young friend was likely to blurt out any secrets to Mrs Grisham, and if the Pridhams should learn of her encounter with Lord Dalmorren, who knew what they might do? Instead she allowed her anger another outlet.

‘He could have been forgiven for thinking that was my purpose in coming here,’ she retorted. ‘Really, Jane, you should not have moved away and left me alone with him!’

‘But I thought that is what you wanted me to do!’ replied Jane, looking mystified.

‘No! I merely wanted to be able to…to converse with him without my aunt and uncle present to scrutinise our every syllable!’

‘Well, you have now had the opportunity. And by the way Lord Dalmorren stormed off I should say you have quarrelled right royally.’ She sighed and put her hand on Natalya’s arm. ‘Oh, do tell, Lya,’ she begged. ‘What happened?’

Natalya bit her lip. ‘He was…insulting.’

‘Ooh.’ Jane’s wide eyes grew even rounder. ‘What did he say?’

‘It…it was not so much what he said.’ Natalya was floundering. ‘He…he did not admire my drawing.’

It was a poor excuse and she waited for her friend to question her further, but Jane accepted it without demur.

‘How unchivalrous of him! And unjust, too. Why, you are the most accomplished artist of anyone I know, Lya. No doubt he thinks himself quite above his company!’

‘No, no!’ Natalya began to regret that she had said anything. ‘I think he was merely being honest.’ She tried to pass it off with a laugh. ‘I am so used to people praising my work that I have grown quite conceited! Come, let us not give it another thought. We should make the most of this lovely day to finish our drawings.’

Tristan did not return to the city via the steps, but followed the longer, gentler slope that descended to the river. It was a pleasant walk with extensive views over the countryside, but it was lost on him. All he could see was the portrait of Freddie. Natalya had made him impossibly handsome. He strode on, swiping at the long grasses with his cane. Damnation, if that was how she saw Freddie, how she thought of him, then she must be very much in love. But if that was the case, why the devil could she not admit it?

He went back over his meeting with Freddie. He had almost written off the boy’s protestations as youthful infatuation, but if the lady returned his regard then matters were more serious than he had first thought. His nephew might not have control of his fortune for the next four years, but he would be free to marry as he chose, once he was one-and-twenty in October. Freddie had mentioned that one of Bath’s highest sticklers was friendly with Miss Fairchild—now what was her name? Ancrum, that was it. Perhaps he should make efforts to become acquainted with the lady. If Freddie was determined to marry Natalya, he needed to learn as much about her as possible. And quickly.

With that intention Tristan took himself to the Pump Room the following morning, his eyes raking the little groups of the old and infirm until he saw his quarry. With a quiet word here and there, he made his way through the crowd towards an elderly lady in a lavender silk gown trimmed with bright green ribbons and with a startling array of green ostrich feathers curling about her turban. She was leaning heavily on her stick while sipping the famous waters from a small cup. He did not approach the lady directly, but made his way first to Mr and Mrs Conyer. He engaged them in conversation and after a few moments, with the finesse worthy of a diplomat, he engineered an introduction to his quarry.

‘Mrs Ancrum.’ He bowed over her hand. ‘You are acquainted with my mother, I believe?’

‘Lady Dalmorren?’ The old woman looked at him, her faded eyes surprisingly shrewd. ‘Ah, yes, I knew her as Maria Aynsworth. She was several years my junior and we lost touch after I retired to Bath. How does she go on?’

‘Remarkably well, ma’am, thank you.’

‘Give me your arm, my—no, I shall not stand on ceremony with the son of so old a friend, I shall call you Tristan!—give me your arm, my boy, and we will take a turn about the room. I am better if I do not stand still for too long.’ Tristan obliged and she continued, ‘Is your mother in Bath with you?’

‘No, ma’am. She has gone to stay with my sister at Frimley.’

‘I had heard she still resides at Dalmorren.’

‘Why, yes, ma’am. I am not married and the house requires a mistress.’

‘And that is why you are in Bath, is it? To find a wife?’ She noticed his slight stiffening and gave a cackle of laughter. ‘Your attentions to Natalya Fairchild have been noted. You cannot get away with anything in Bath, my boy. Hotbed of gossip.’

‘Obviously. Although I thought I had been most careful not to single out Miss Fairchild.’

‘Anyone braving the Pridhams’ displeasure enough to dance twice with that young lady would arouse comment.’

‘She does appear to be uncommonly hedged about,’ he replied cautiously. ‘Do you know why that should be, Mrs Ancrum?’ When she did not reply he added, ‘My nephew, my sister Katherine’s son, has shown a decided partiality for the lady.’

‘And the Pridhams sent him to the rightabout, did they?’ She shrugged. ‘He will recover.’

‘But I happen to believe Miss Fairchild is not indifferent to him. If that is the case, then his mother will want to know a little more about her. The Pridhams are most discouraging, but I was told that you are good friends with the young lady.’

‘But you weren’t told that I am a gossip!’

He smiled. ‘No. As you so rightly pointed out, there is gossip aplenty in Bath. I am looking for truth.’

She turned her head and gave him a long, considering look, but did not speak.

He said at last, ‘Mrs Ancrum, why are the Pridhams so discouraging?’

‘I can tell you nothing.’

‘Is that because you know nothing?’

‘It is not my place to speak of such things.’ She released his arm and held out her hand to him. ‘I will wish you good day, Lord Dalmorren.’

Thus dismissed, Tristan could only take his leave of Mrs Ancrum, but he left the Pump Room with far more questions than he had entered it.

Chapter Four

Following the outing to Beechen Cliff, Natalya determined to put Lord Dalmorren out of her mind. Tristan Quintrell might be the Nineteenth Baron Dalmorren, as she had discovered after browsing through her uncle’s copy of Peerage & Baronetage, but he was not worthy of her consideration, since he chose to think ill of her. How could he believe she was in love with Freddie Erwin!

She liked Freddie, who would not? After all, he had not been put off by her aunt’s and uncle’s attempts to discourage him. She appreciated that and with so few real friends in Bath she enjoyed his company, but although only months separated them in age, he was far too much of a boy to appeal to her. No, she preferred gentlemen of a more serious character. Ones, moreover, with whom she might discuss more than last week’s ball or the latest play. Someone well read and with wide-ranging knowledge of the world.

Someone very like Tristan Quintrell, in fact.

No! She must not think of him.

Natalya was obliged to tell herself the same thing several times over the next few days, for he remained stubbornly in her head and no amount of study could dislodge him. When she picked up her book on astronomy, she recalled sitting beside him at the lecture and their all-too-brief discussions on the subject. When she had her dancing lesson, she remembered his lithe grace at the Assembly Rooms, and when she joined the Grishams for a nature ramble with their old governess she found her thoughts wandering off. She wondered if His Lordship was still in Bath. If he would look for her in vain at that evening’s Dress Ball, which the Pridhams had decided it was not necessary to attend.

Waking to an overcast sky and steady rain did nothing to lift Natalya’s spirits the next morning. The day stretched before her. Friday was designated a study day, when she would read various informative works, usually of history or philosophy, and discuss them with Mr Pridham. They had read Voltaire and Rousseau together in French. More recently she had finished Mrs Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, which had not been one of Mr Pridham’s recommendations, and she was now making her way through all six volumes of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, but even the thought of Mr Gibbon’s very readable work could not make her look forward to the day with any great enthusiasm and it was with relief that she received an invitation to go out.

Aggie brought the note to Natalya while she was breaking her fast in her room and she lost no time in seeking out her aunt and uncle. She found them in the drawing room, engaged in their usual morning pursuits; Mr Pridham reading the newspaper aloud to his wife while she worked at her embroidery.

‘Good morning, Aunt, Uncle.’

Mr Pridham put down his newspaper and nodded towards the sheet of paper in her hand.

‘Ah. Mrs Ancrum’s invitation to you to take tea with her.’

‘Yes.’ Natalya was aware that all correspondence was taken first to her uncle and she pushed aside the familiar spurt of irritation. ‘As you are aware, sir, she asks if I might be permitted to remain for dinner, too, if I am not engaged.’ She looked to her aunt. ‘May I accept, ma’am? If we have no other engagements this evening, then there is no need for me to hurry back.’

She waited hopefully. Mrs Ancrum was one of the few people in Bath of whom Mr and Mrs Pridham approved and she was relieved but not surprised when, after a glance at her husband, Mrs Pridham agreed she might go.

‘Thank you!’ Natalya beamed at her. ‘If the rain has stopped, then Aggie can walk there with me, but she need not remain. Mrs Ancrum says she will send me home in her own carriage after dinner.’

‘I hope you will manage an hour at the pianoforte before you go out,’ put in Mr Pridham, glancing at the clock. ‘Mrs Ancrum’s patronage is important for you, my dear, and you must not neglect her, but you must work on your accomplishments, too. Especially now.’

Natalya looked up and was about to enquire what he meant by the last remark when her aunt came forward and touched her arm.

‘Well, well, that is a treat for you, Natalya. When you go, you must be sure to give Mrs Ancrum our regards. Now, what do you say to practising your music this morning, my dear? I have an hour free to sit with you while you play and you know how much I enjoy listening to you. Shall we go to the drawing room now?’

It was less than a mile from Sydney Place to the Paragon, where Mrs Ancrum lived in some style. Natalya’s maid waited only until her mistress had been admitted to the house before walking on to Milsom Street to carry out an errand for Mrs Pridham. Natalya breathed a sigh of relief. Whenever she left the house her aunt insisted she should be escorted by her maid or a footman and if she joined her friends it was on the understanding that they were similarly accompanied. Her visits to the Paragon were the only ones where she felt she was not under constant surveillance.

She was shown into the drawing room where she found Mrs Ancrum alone and sitting in her favourite wing chair beside the fire.

‘No, no, pray do not get up on my account, ma’am,’ she said, crossing the room and planting a kiss upon her hostess’s faded cheek.

The old lady’s hand came up briefly to touch her shoulder. ‘Bless you, child, you are like a ray of sunshine!’

Natalya blushed and turned away the compliment with a laugh.

‘That is because, despite the rain earlier this morning, it is such a warm day and my face is glowing from the exertion of walking here! But how are you, ma’am? In prime twig, I see. Pomona-green suits you, it matches your eyes.’

‘Flatterer. Now, ring the bell, my love. We shall have tea and catch up on all the gossip. Why, it must be a full week since I have seen you.’

The afternoon passed pleasantly with no lull in the conversation. Mrs Ancrum gave her young friend a spirited account of all she had done and seen since they had last met and, as she did not believe in holding back her opinions, Natalya was vastly entertained by her comic descriptions of the people she had seen at the Pump Room.

‘Overdressed frights, for the most part,’ declared Mrs Ancrum, with a blatant disregard for the garishly coloured flounces and ribbons of red and purple that adorned her own gown. ‘And the Conyers were there, Mrs Conyer wearing another of her eye-catching gowns. Bright yellow silk with so many frills and flounces I swear she looked just like a dandelion! And it is not at all helped by the fact that she is as broad as she is tall!’

‘No, no, you are too cruel, ma’am,’ Natalya protested, laughing. ‘She is a most agreeable lady. Always cheerful, which, considering her health, is a virtue, I think. Such a generous nature, too. I can overlook her bright colours because she is always so kind when we meet.’

‘And why should she not be kind to you?’ exclaimed Mrs Ancrum, bridling.

‘Not everyone thinks as highly of me as you, ma’am,’ said Natalya, blushing a little.

‘Well, they should!’ came the gruff retort. ‘And their son was here in the spring, was he not? I remember he came with them, once, to the Pump Room.’

‘Yes, Mr Gore Conyer. A very pleasant gentleman.’

Mrs Ancrum helped herself to another small cake and said casually, ‘He had a friend with him, I believe. A Mr Erwin. Handsome young buck, if I recall. I believe you danced with him, Natalya.’

‘I danced with both gentlemen, ma’am.’ Natalya eyed her hostess warily, wondering where this was leading.

‘But I hear you found Mr Erwin the more agreeable?’ Mrs Ancrum laughed. ‘Oh, do not poker up, Natalya, you know I am one for plain speaking.’

‘So, too, am I and I should like to know what has brought on this sudden interest in Freddie Erwin!’

‘I met his uncle earlier this week. Lord Dalmorren. He was asking about you.’

‘He had no right to do so!’

‘He appears to think you and his nephew are in love.’

Natalya blushed furiously, which only added to her indignation. ‘Ooh, how dare he, when I expressly told him it is nothing of the sort!’

‘If you showed such vehemence in your response then he may well have thought the lady doth protest too much,’ murmured the old woman, her shrewd eyes fixed on her young guest. She laughed suddenly. ‘Now drink your tea, my love, and calm yourself. Then you can tell me everything.’

‘There is nothing to tell,’ replied Natalya. ‘Freddie Erwin is a pleasant young man and we danced together several times. He and Mr Conyer joined one or two of the outings got up by the Grishams, but there were plenty of other young ladies present besides Jane Grisham and myself. Verena Summerton and Laura Spinhurst, to name but two of them.’

‘Then why should Lord Dalmorren be asking about you?’

Natalya put down her cup. The old lady was too shrewd to believe any prevarication.

She said, ‘He saw a drawing I had done of Mr Erwin. Not a good one, but…flattering. He thinks it shows I have formed a…a tendre for his nephew but it is nothing of the kind. I merely kept it because it was better than most of the portraits I have attempted.’ She gave a tiny shrug. ‘It is true that Freddie and I became friends, but you will not be surprised to know that my aunt and uncle did everything they could to discourage him from calling.’

‘In my opinion, there is nothing more likely to aid a love affair than opposition.’

The old lady was watching her closely, but Natalya merely smiled and said with perfect sincerity, ‘Not in this case, ma’am. When Mr Erwin left Bath, we parted with nary a pang. At least,’ she added, her brow furrowed, ‘not on my side.’

‘And if the young man has formed an attachment, do you think you could return his regard?’

Natalya hesitated.

‘Marriage to an agreeable man would be a way of escaping the stifling care of the Pridhams,’ she said slowly. ‘But it is not to be considered. They will never agree to it.’

‘In a few weeks you will be one-and-twenty, Natalya. You will not need their consent.’

‘True.’ Natalya stared at her hands for a long moment. ‘I wish I knew why my aunt and uncle are so protective. Why they discourage every gentleman who even looks at me! They insist I am a lady, there is no curb on the amount they spend on my clothes and my education, and yet…’ She fixed her eyes on Mrs Ancrum. ‘We have never spoken of it, but I think, I believe, you know something of my parents, ma’am. I pray you will tell me!’

The old lady threw up her hands. ‘Do not ask me, my love, I do not know anything. The Pridhams are good, respectable people, if a little Puritan in their outlook. Have they not promised they will explain everything to you on your birthday?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘There you are then! In the meantime, if young Mr Erwin is indeed serious in his intentions, if he loves you, then your lineage will not matter in the least.’

Natalya shook her head. ‘I wish I could believe you, ma’am, but I know it is not the case. Every book, every guide on genteel living I have ever read says differently. If I should turn out to be, to be a—’

‘Do not even think of it!’ Mrs Ancrum interrupted quickly. ‘I cannot believe the Pridhams would have introduced you into Bath society if there was anything amiss with your birth. They are merely being over-diligent in their protection of you. No, this Mr Erwin would be a good match for any young lady and you would be wise not to discourage him. And to that end, you should not antagonise his uncle!’

At the mention of Lord Dalmorren, Natalya gave a long sigh.

‘I am afraid it is too late for that, ma’am. Our last encounter ended very badly. He can have no wish to continue the acquaintance now.’

Mrs Ancrum chuckled. ‘Then you have an opportunity to make it up with him, for he is coming here for dinner tonight!’

Mrs Ancrum’s maid showed Natalya up to the guest room, where she washed her face and hands and sat down at the mirror to tidy her hair before dinner.

‘I should have gone home,’ she told her reflection. ‘When she told me she had invited Lord Dalmorren to dinner, I should have left the house immediately.’

Instead she had allowed herself to be persuaded to remain. Mrs Ancrum had told her the Grishams were coming, too, together with their son and daughter.

‘You know I enjoy the company of young people,’ she had said. ‘It is just a little party, with my old friend Colonel Yatton invited to make us an even number at dinner, but nothing to displease your aunt and uncle. No dancing, of course, although I hope I might persuade you and Jane to play for us. You are such a clever puss, your accomplishments alone should convince Lord Dalmorren that you are an eligible match for his nevvy!’

Natalya put down her hairbrush and stared into the mirror—she did not want to be an eligible match for Freddie Erwin. She knew Freddie was not the reason she had decided to stay. It was Tristan. She berated herself for using his name, even in her thoughts, but she could not stop the dizzying swoop of her insides at the prospect of seeing him again.

‘It is merely because our last meeting ended so unsatisfactorily,’ she told herself as she pinched her cheeks to provide a little more colour. ‘One should never part on a quarrel.’

She sat back, turning her head this way and that to study her reflection. If she had known there were to be guests, she would have worn something a little more dashing than her periwinkle-blue sprigged muslin.

‘But if Mrs Ancrum’s note had mentioned that there would be guests,’ she told her reflection, ‘Aunt Pridham would have refused to let me come!’

There was a knock on the door and Mrs Ancrum’s maid peeped in.

‘The mistress says to tell you she has gone down to the drawing room, miss.’

‘Thank you.’

Natalya rose and shook out her skirts, then, with a final glance at her reflection, she straightened her shoulders and hurried down the stairs.

Mrs Ancrum’s oldest friend, Colonel Yatton, arrived first, followed by the Grishams, who bustled in with all the energy and goodwill of a happy family. Mr and Mrs Grisham greeted Natalya in their usual friendly fashion, their son Henry bowed over her hand while Jane squealed with delight and hugged her.

‘What a wonderful surprise, Natalya, I did not know you were to be here tonight.’

‘That is because I was not sure she would be,’ Mrs Ancrum replied for her.

‘Well, we are very pleased Mr and Mrs Pridham could spare you,’ put in Mrs Grisham, smiling at Natalya.

Lord Dalmorren entered and was greeted cheerfully by his hostess, who advised him not to stand upon ceremony, but to come in and join them all.

‘Just an impromptu little dinner, my lord,’ she said, giving him her hand. ‘You know everyone, I believe.’

‘I do, ma’am, thank you.’

He glanced around, nodding to everyone and finally turning to Natalya.

‘Miss Fairchild.’

She made her curtsy, determined not to blush under the scrutiny of those hard grey eyes, trying not to think how well he looked, immaculate in black tailcoat and light-coloured breeches, a diamond winking from the folds of his snowy cravat. She knew a moment’s panic when she thought he might approach, but his attention was claimed by the Colonel and the gentlemen were all soon engrossed in a conversation which lasted until it was time to go in to dinner.

Mrs Ancrum was an excellent hostess and conversation flowed between her guests as readily as the wine that accompanied the meal. Natalya was relieved to be seated at a distance from Lord Dalmorren, but she was contrary enough to wish he might occasionally look her way. A foolish idea and impolite, too. How odd it would look if he ignored his immediate neighbours to stare at her! She dragged her attention back to her end of the table and threw herself into an animated discussion on the merits of Lord Byron’s poems.

At the end of the meal, Mrs Ancrum rose and invited the ladies to accompany her to the drawing room, where Jane carried Natalya off to the sofa, leaving her mother and their hostess to occupy the chairs flanking the fire.

‘Have you made up your differences with Lord Dalmorren?’ Jane whispered. ‘He seems very agreeable this evening.’

‘I am sure he has forgotten that silly incident.’ Natalya tried to pass it off with a laugh. ‘He did not like my drawing of his nephew, that is all.’

‘The sketch you made of Mr Erwin, when he came to Bath in February?’

‘Yes, that’s the one. We were all agreed at the time that it was not very good.’

‘I remember it now; you were very cross with yourself for not being able to capture his true likeness.’ Jane’s brow cleared. ‘That explains everything. From His Lordship’s conversation with Mama at dinner, one can tell he is extremely attached to his family. Although, it was very wrong of him to disparage your drawing,’ she added quickly. ‘And he should not have been angry if you took offence at his criticism. It was very rude to storm off without a word of farewell.’

‘He did not storm off,’ Natalya protested. ‘I…um… I think perhaps he was late for an engagement.’

Natalya was uncomfortable that her friend should think ill of Lord Dalmorren. He had misconstrued the situation between herself and his nephew, but that was not entirely his fault. However, it was impossible to explain it all to Jane and Natalya did not try. Instead she turned the subject and chattered on about fashions and the weather until the gentlemen came in.

Mrs Ancrum called to them from her place by the fire.

‘I am glad you did not linger over your brandy. I have promised to return Miss Fairchild to her home by midnight.’

‘Indeed?’ cried Mr Grisham, glancing towards the clock. ‘Then we should waste no time in asking the young ladies to entertain us with music!’

A short discussion ensued as to who should play first and at last Natalya was persuaded.

When she walked over to the pianoforte, Lord Dalmorren followed, saying he would move the candles for her.

‘Home by midnight?’ he murmured as she took her seat at the pianoforte. ‘Just like Cinderella.’

She ignored that, but she could not resist muttering, ‘I hope you will find my playing more acceptable than my painting.’

‘That rankled, did it?’ She saw a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘I beg your pardon. To own the truth, I thought your drawing was very good. It was the subject matter that concerned me.’

‘My lord, I assure you there is no reason why it should,’ she told him earnestly. ‘I have no designs upon your nephew.’

‘Perhaps it is more that Freddie has designs upon you.’

She could read nothing from his tone or his grey eyes but mild amusement. Her heart lifted as she ran her fingers over the keys and began to play. They were no longer at odds and she was surprised how much that pleased her.

Natalya returned to Sydney Place just before midnight in Mrs Ancrum’s ancient but serviceable barouche and entered the house to be informed that the master and mistress were waiting for her in the drawing room. They greeted her kindly, brushed aside her apologies for keeping them up so late and enquired if she had enjoyed herself.

‘Very much,’ she replied truthfully. ‘Mrs Ancrum had invited a few friends to join us for dinner. Her whist partner, Colonel Yatton, of course, and the Grishams were there, too, with Jane and Henry. Oh, and Lord Dalmorren,’ she added casually. ‘I understand his mama was a good friend of Mrs Ancrum, in her youth.’ She salved her conscience with the thought that it was not exactly a lie, although ‘an acquaintance’ were the words Mrs Ancrum had actually used.

‘Lord Dalmorren?’ Mr Pridham sat up in his chair. ‘I hope he did not make you the object of his attention this evening.’

‘Not at all. I barely spoke to him all night.’

She need not tell them that they had sung a duet together, or that she had played for him while he entertained the company with an Italian love song. Or that he had looked into her eyes several times during his performance, as if he had been singing just for her, a thought that had caused her to miss more than a few notes of her accompaniment.

‘In fact,’ she added, trying to send their thoughts in another direction, ‘I spent more time talking to Henry Grisham.’

Her uncle waved a dismissive hand. ‘We all know young Grisham is dangling after Miss Spinhurst. He is no threat.’

‘Threat?’ Natalya jumped on the word. ‘I am surprised you do not keep me locked in my room, if you consider any gentleman’s attention to be a threat.’

‘If I had my way, my girl, I would do just that!’

‘Your uncle is funning!’ put in Aunt Pridham hastily. ‘It was very kind of Mrs Ancrum to invite you. I shall write her a note in the morning, thanking her.’

‘Better than that, Aunt, you may thank her in person,’ replied Natalya sweetly. ‘Mrs Ancrum will be calling here tomorrow morning. She has invited me to join her on a drive to Lansdown Hill, if you do not object? We were talking about the Battle of Lansdown tonight and she expressed a desire to see the monument.’ She looked from her aunt to her uncle. ‘You do not mind if I accompany her, do you? She had asked Colonel Yatton to escort her, but he embarks upon a course of treatment at the hot baths tomorrow and cannot go.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘After all Mrs Ancrum’s kindness to me I should very much like to keep her company on this outing. I do not like the idea of her going to Lansdown without a companion. However, if you wish me to refuse I shall do so, when she calls.’

She held her breath while her aunt and uncle looked at one another.

‘No, no, we have no objection,’ replied Mrs Pridham at last. ‘I am sure Mrs Ancrum will look after you and one must undertake these outings when the weather permits, I understand that.’

‘Thank you.’ If the Grishams had been having this conversation, Jane would have flown across the room to kiss her mother’s cheek, but Aunt Pridham did not encourage such shows of affection, so Natalya merely smiled and dropped a slight curtsy. ‘If you will excuse me, I am excessively tired and will go to bed now. It is very late.’

Bidding her aunt and uncle goodnight, she made her way up the stairs, not to think about the pleasures of the forthcoming outing, but to recall the delights of the evening and Lord Dalmorren serenading her. Just the thought of his voice, a rich, powerful tenor, sent a shiver down her spine. All the way to her toes.

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