‘I remember.’ Joss gave her a searching look. ‘You barely spoke a word. So what has happened to you in between, Miss Bainbridge?’
Amy looked up at him, startled. ‘Why, nothing. Whatever do you mean, my lord?’
‘Well, you are not shy now. What happened to change that?’
Amy was taken aback. It was true that she had engaged in conversation with Joss very easily once the initial shock of being in his arms had faded. Their repartee had been light and amusing, and as such was far different from the laboured conversations she was accustomed to holding with her partners. But that was just…She struggled a little, because the truth was that it was only with Joss that she felt at such ease. She felt able to express her views and opinions openly and found him interesting to converse with. And that particular fact was not one she wished to examine too closely.
‘I am still a reserved character, my lord—’
‘I say fustian to that, ma’am! How can you possibly say so? You have had no difficulty in expressing your views to me from the moment we met.’
‘But that was because—’ Amy stopped dead. She had almost said, ‘That was because I had no wish to attract you,’ but managed to prevent herself just in time. One of the things that had hampered her during her season was her mother’s fervent insistence that she find a suitable man to marry. Amy had tried because she too was desperate to find a way out of the violent swings of fortune that composed life in the Bainbridge household. She wanted to live in calmer waters. So she had viewed each young man she met as a potential suitor but had found them all lacking one way or another. There was no common ground; they did not appear interested in talking to her and seemed disappointed that she was so plain. Her mother harried her and nagged her to become suitably established but it was all in vain—Amy could not attract any offers.
Yet when she had met the Earl of Tallant she had disapproved of him so thoroughly that it had seemed irrelevant to view him in the light of a potential suitor. She had not even tried and thus had managed to speak to him perfectly normally. Now, thinking about it, she could not repress a gurgle of laughter at so outrageous an idea as Joss courting her.
Joss was watching her, his eyebrows lifted questioningly.
‘Really, Miss Bainbridge, are you not to explain yourself? That was because…what?’
‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’ Amy smiled at him. ‘You are quite right, my lord. I have been most outspoken in expressing my views to you.’
‘I thought that we had agreed that already. I was interested in the reason why.’
‘Oh…’ Amy cudgelled her brain to come up with a suitable explanation. Could she say that speaking to him was like talking to an elder brother? No, that would not wash. It was far more interesting than conversing with Richard. What about telling him that she felt comfortable with him? That was not precisely true either. His company was too stimulating for that.
The thought brought her up sharply. Stimulating—Joss Tallant. The gamester and womaniser. The man she disapproved of so thoroughly, who was leading Richard astray with his excessive gambling. Her smile faded. How was it possible that she could distrust Joss and yet enjoy his company so much? It was as mysterious as it was disturbing.
‘I believe that I may have acquired more town bronze since then, my lord, that is all,’ she said.
‘Enough indeed to be able to produce a convincing excuse when you need one,’ Joss observed drily. ‘You are to be congratulated, Miss Bainbridge.’
He bowed to her and escorted her round the floor, but they did not speak again and it was as though some constraint had fallen between them. Amy had totally forgotten that she was intending to quiz Joss about his lottery ticket and it was only when Lord Anston approached her for the next dance, neatly cutting out Mr Cavendish, who had been advancing from the left, that she remembered that there was business unfinished between them. It was too late, however; Lord Anston was triumphantly claiming her hand and Joss walked off with negligent elegance in the direction of the card room.
After that there seemed to be a queue of gentlemen suddenly eager to make her acquaintance. Amy could not believe that dancing with Joss Tallant had brought her into fashion and darkly suspected that it must be her mother’s hints of a fortune that had made her so sought after. Whatever the case, it was after supper that Bertie Hallam finally caught up with her to demand a dance. After they had finished he took her arm in a surprisingly masterful grip and steered her towards the candlelit conservatory. Amy, suspecting that Bertie was about to make one of his regular proposals, tried to deflect him.
‘Oh, is not Lady Alice Broughton over there? I am sure you said that you admired her, Bertie. Why do you not ask her to dance?’
Bertie was not to be deflected.
‘Now see here, Amy,’ he said, when they were seated on a bench beneath the sparkling fairy lanterns, ‘I’ve decided that really you must marry me. It’s not right that you should spend your days fetching and carrying for Lady Bainbridge, reading and sewing and…’ Bertie wrinkled up his face, evidently trying to imagine what else Amy might do with her time ‘…and other things,’ he finished, a little lamely. ‘You are not as young as you were and it’s time you had your own establishment.’ He took her hands in his. ‘I know you’re accustomed to refusing me and I know you disapprove of my gambling, but dash it, Amy, you ought to accept my proposal!’
Amy sighed. Over the years she had grown accustomed to receiving an offer of marriage from Bertie Hallam. The habit had started when he was six and she was five, and he had shown a dogged devotion ever since. It was quite dark in the conservatory, but by the faint light of the coloured lanterns she could see that he was looking at her with a hopeful expression on his lugubrious face.
‘Dearest Bertie,’ she said gently, ‘it is very kind of you to ask me but I fear that the answer is still no.’
She had just finished speaking when she became aware that they were not alone in the shadowy conservatory. The shadows moved and shifted and then a tall figure was standing beside the bench and a cool voice said,
‘I do apologise for my intrusion, Miss Bainbridge. I had merely come to ask you to spare me another dance. I had no notion that I was interrupting at such a delicate moment. Pray excuse me. Your servant, Hallam.’
The Earl of Tallant. Amy recognised the voice, with its undercurrent of amusement, and felt the colour burn her face that he had found her in such a situation. Bertie got to his feet with what Amy recognised was an attempt to match the Earl’s own sangfroid. He failed miserably, for his demeanour was stiff and his good-humoured tone a little forced. Amy recognised his discomfort and felt a rush of sympathy for him—and a burning annoyance with Joss Tallant for being cool and amused and so nonchalant; everything that Bertie was not. Then she felt irritated with herself, for she was the one who had rejected Bertie’s proposal of marriage and it was hardly fair to take out her guilt and bad temper on someone else.
‘Servant, Tallant,’ Bertie said heartily. ‘Amy, do you wish to go back into the ballroom?’
Amy knew that that was the proper course of action, but she had suddenly remembered that she had to ask Joss about the lottery ticket and that this would probably be her only opportunity. The field had narrowed—to one. There was only Joss left, and for some reason she felt very nervous about asking him. She would just have to get the matter over with quickly.
‘You go on without me, Bertie,’ she said quickly. ‘There is something that I wish to ask Lord Tallant.’
Bertie hesitated, clearly struck by the impropriety of this. ‘Amy, I really do not think that I should leave you here—’
‘I shall only be a moment,’ Amy said. Clearly her erstwhile suitor had now reverted to acting as an elder brother. Whilst she felt more comfortable with Bertie in that role, she did not wish him to exercise a fraternal interest just now. She turned towards Joss, leaving Bertie standing open-mouthed and startled. ‘Lord Tallant, would you walk with me a little, if you please?’
> ‘With great pleasure, Miss Bainbridge.’ Joss Tallant fell into step beside her and gave her a searching look.
‘What a surprising young lady you are turning out to me, Miss Bainbridge! Seeking out my company in such a way is most singular!’
His sleeve brushed against hers. Amy repressed a shiver.
‘I know it,’ she said a little uncertainly. ‘It may seem a little odd…’
‘It does,’ Joss agreed pleasantly, ‘not to mention bold and surprisingly out of character, Miss Bainbridge! You are surely aware that to ask a gentleman to walk with you through a dark and deserted conservatory could be interpreted in rather a dubious light?’
‘That would depend on the gentleman, I dare say,’ Amy said.
‘Very probably.’ Joss slanted a look down at her and Amy could tell that he was smiling. ‘Some would take it as an invitation, Miss Bainbridge.’
‘But you would not make that mistake, would you, my lord?’
‘We have already discussed that, have we not, Miss Bainbridge? You are quite aware of my reputation.’
‘I am,’ Amy said crisply, ‘and I am certain that I am in no danger.’
It was true. Despite his rake’s reputation and the fact that they were alone together, Amy had the strangest feeling that they understood one another. How they had reached such a rapport was curious and she might even have imagined it, yet she felt entirely safe with him.
‘You are intrepid indeed, Miss Bainbridge.’ Joss laughed ‘So, having dismissed that issue, we may talk. What is it that you wished to ask me?’
Amy cleared her throat. ‘I have asked the same question of several different gentlemen including Mr Hallam—’
‘How intriguing.’ Joss turned suddenly, taking Amy’s hands in his. His touch was warm. ‘So, will it necessitate the same actions as your conversation with Mr Hallam?’
Amy snatched her hands away. She wished she was seated so that she might make assurance doubly sure by sitting on them.
‘Of course not! How absurd you are! Mr Hallam was holding my hands because—’ She stopped, cross with herself. It was none of Joss Tallant’s business what she had been talking about with Bertie. ‘Well, that is nothing to the purpose anyway—’
‘He was holding your hands because he was making you an offer,’ Joss said. The undertone of mockery in his drawling voice made Amy’s annoyance worse. ‘I am sorry for interrupting you at such a deucedly awkward moment. I hope it did not ruin matters for you.’
‘Of course not! Mr Hallam proposes to me every year and I fear it has become something of a habit with him,’ Amy said. ‘Not that it is any business of yours, sir.’
‘It is not, but satisfy my curiosity further. Did you refuse him?’
Amy was glad of the darkness that covered her blushes. ‘You are impertinent, sir—’
‘I am. Did you refuse him?’
‘Yes, I did.’ Amy spoke in a rush. ‘I do not love him.’
There was a short silence. ‘I suppose you require the grand passion to persuade you into matrimony, or at least the appearance of it?’ The mockery was still in Joss’s voice and Amy prickled with annoyance. ‘You disappoint me, Miss Bainbridge. Most young ladies are tiresomely sentimental, but I had thought that you might be different.’
‘I certainly require to have more than mere liking for the gentleman I marry,’ Amy said sharply, ‘if you consider that sentimentality! However, I do believe that you do my sex little justice, sir. At least half of us are prepared to marry for money and position alone!’
Joss laughed again, this time with genuine humour. ‘This kitten has very sharp claws! I am relieved that I need not repine, Miss Bainbridge. Somewhere there will be a lady prepared to overlook my faults and marry me for my money alone.’
‘I was not aware that your lordship wished to marry,’ Amy said. The thought gave her a strange feeling inside. ‘Your behaviour does not suggest it. You are a self-confessed rake, after all.’
‘So?’ Joss laughed. ‘I have yet to learn that that is a bar to marriage.’
‘And you are evidently a cynic too! It seems a shame to embark on matrimony with such an attitude.’
‘Ah, so we are to talk morality now, as we spoke of gambling before? How stimulating!’
‘No, I do not wish to debate morality with you, my lord,’ Amy said. ‘There are plenty of reform societies for you to visit if that is your wish.’
She sighed. Debating with him was like wrestling a slippery fish, only much more enjoyable than fishing. Seldom were her wits tested to this extent in her daily conversations with Richard or Lady Bainbridge. It felt exciting, as though she was straying into deep waters. Part of her wanted to go with the tide and the other part, the sensible part, held back.
‘Thank you.’ Joss inclined his head. ‘I am obliged to you for pointing that out although I feel that a conversation with you might have been more enjoyable, Miss Bainbridge. Crossing wits with you is peculiarly interesting.’
‘Thank you,’ Amy said briskly. ‘We seem to have drifted quite a distance from the topic in hand, my lord. I had a question for you, if you recall. It was simply this. Did you have a lottery ticket for the draw last week?’
There was a pause, and then Joss bowed slightly. ‘No, Miss Bainbridge. I did not have a ticket. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, no reason,’ Amy said airily. She felt both relieved and disappointed at the same time. ‘I was merely curious—’
‘About my gambling habits? They are extreme, I am afraid. But of course you know that—and deplore it. But I should call time on you for that Banbury tale, Miss Bainbridge. There must be a better reason for your question than simple curiosity.’
Amy pressed her hands together. The Duke of Fleet had not persisted in questioning her, but she had had a feeling from the first that Joss Tallant would not be quite so amenable. And now she had a greater problem. Since the ticket did not belong to any of Richard’s gambling cronies, nor was it clear who else might claim it, what was she to do? She frowned slightly, thinking aloud.
‘I found a lottery ticket in the dining room at Curzon Street, my lord, and it won the prize last week. I have been trying to reunite the money with its rightful owner, but I cannot seem to find him.’
Joss raised his brows. His tone was incredulous. ‘You found a winning lottery ticket and you wish to give the money away? Miss Bainbridge, you astound me!’
Amy threw him a look that was part ashamed, part challenging. ‘Why so?’
‘Come, you must know the reason! Firstly, I am amazed that you would tell me such a thing and, secondly, I cannot believe that you would give the money away! It beggars belief!’
Amy gave an angry sigh. ‘Why must everyone make me feel as though I am doing wrong rather than doing right? All I am trying to do is to see that the rightful owner is given the money!’
Joss laughed. ‘Who is everyone?’
‘Oh, you and Lady Spry, my mother and Richard! It is the most shocking thing, my lord! All the world would keep the winnings for themselves and cannot understand why I believe I must give them back!’
‘Your honesty will be making people uncomfortable, I believe,’ Joss said slowly. ‘Not one man in ten—and I include women as well—would do as you are doing, Miss Bainbridge, and they will not like you for it.’
Amy frowned. ‘Surely there would be plenty of people who would not keep what is not rightfully theirs? I cannot believe the world so venal as you describe it, my lord!’
‘Believe it, my dear Miss Bainbridge. I fear you are naïve!’
‘Well, there is no need to patronise me!’ Amy said crossly. ‘Just because you would do differently yourself.’
‘Ah, yes, of course—so I would.’ There was an odd note in Joss’s voice. ‘Yet still I may be helpful, perhaps. Have you interrogated all the servants to check on their gaming habits? Perhaps one of them would admit to it—for thirty thousand pounds?’
‘None of the servants play the lottery and the ticket belo
ngs to none of Richard’s guests, nor to me or to Mama or Richard himself. Amanda—Lady Spry—wondered if it had been blown in off the street, perhaps, or been dropped down the chimney by a bird.’
‘How imaginative of Lady Spry—and how convenient.’ Joss smiled. ‘It would undoubtedly be simpler to accept her views.’
Amanda frowned again. ‘Well, I cannot see what else I can do now!’
‘Forget the matter and spend the money on yourself would be my advice. Or give it to Richard so that I may win it all from him!’
‘Certainly not!’ Amy gave him a repressive look. ‘If I must keep it, my lord, I shall use it to do good.’
Joss sighed. ‘Must you? How tiresome. Can you not allow yourself to be corrupted by the possession of it?’
‘No, indeed. How absurd you are!’ Amy sobered. ‘There is just one small matter…’
‘Yes?’
‘I wonder—would you not tell anyone about my winnings? I have no intention of going about in society very much and will give the money to good causes, but I could not bear if it was rumoured that I was the lottery heiress, or some such ridiculous soubriquet.’
‘Of course.’ Joss’s hand covered her own for a brief second on his sleeve. ‘There is just one thing, Miss Bainbridge…’
‘Yes?’ Amy found her voice a little unsteady. That brief touch had lit something inside her and she moved back a step. ‘What is it?’
‘Did you tell anyone else the reason for your enquiries? I mean, did you tell Hallam, or Dainty—or Fleet?’
‘No.’ Amy hesitated. ‘I was trying to be discreet and did not wish anyone else to know.’
‘Then why tell me?’
There was a silence. Amy felt tense. She did not wish to answer the question, did not even know the answer. She had known Bertie Hallam for years and trusted him as a brother, yet it was not to Bertie that she had confided the truth but to Joss Tallant.
‘I am not entirely sure,’ she said uncertainly.
The silence stretched, taut as a drum.
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