The Art of Love

by Lacey, Lilac

  ‘Lady Penge, Lady Tara, how lovely to see you,’ Mark came forward to greet them. Tara allowed him to kiss her hand, trying very hard not to compare the friendly brush of his lips with the intimacy of the touch Leo would have bestowed upon her. ‘Lady Tara, you look absolutely magnificent tonight,’ Mark said sincerely, confirming Tara’s view of her appearance.

  ‘Thank you,’ Tara said, and then the musicians struck up in earnest.

  ‘Would you give me the honour of this dance?’ Mark asked through the opening chords.

  ‘It would be my pleasure,’ Tara said, uttering the phrase she had so often repeated without having to think. She could see the main entrance out of the corner of her eye, but there was still no sign of Leo.

  Mark led her through a set of country dances several of which were unfamiliar to her. By the end Tara was breathless and laughing with the effort of following the steps and keeping an eye on the door. ‘I thought you had promised your first dance to your sister,’ Tara said as they retired from the dance floor to a sofa flanked by a little cluster of ferns in pots.

  ‘Caroline!’ Mark said, looking rather rueful. ‘Yes I did. If you’ll excuse me I’d better go and see if I can make it up to her. This is her first proper ball. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Tara said and had to admit to herself she was secretly relieved. Mark was very nice, but she was having trouble keeping her mind off Leo and it made it difficult to make conversation. She sat where she was for a moment, watching sets reform and rather hoping no one would notice her on her own and ask her to dance when out of the corner of her eye she spotted movement at the head of the stairs. She peered through the fern fronds and her heart gave a tremendous leap. It was Leo!

  He paused at the top step, apparently surveying the room in much the same way as she had done. Was he looking for her, Tara wondered? He must be, who else would he be seeking? But did he hope or hope not to find her there? The insidious thought wormed its way into her mind despite her best efforts to believe that everything would work out between them. Then, as Leo took his first step down the butler announced him.

  ‘Lord Leo Fosse!’

  Tara’s heart seemed to stop and start again. For a few seconds she couldn’t breathe. Then she took a gasp of air and felt her heart thud at twice its normal rate. Leo was a lord! Surely not! How could she not have known such a thing? But Lord Davenham’s butler would not have made a mistake with his title. Leo was a lord, she just hadn’t known it. Then understanding tumbled hot on the heels of that realization. No wonder Leo had reacted so badly when she had offered him employment. A lord did not take a job as an estate manager, it was unthinkable. What on earth could she say to him to mend the offence?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Davenham Manor was conveniently situated only a short walk from Leo’s cottage. He had considered riding as it looked like rain, and a horse would make the return journey, possibly in a downpour, shorter if not actually more comfortable. But riding would have inevitably left traces of horsehair on his clothes, and Leo wanted to appear impeccable tonight. He had brought a limited wardrobe with him from London, but fortunately he had packed for mixing with society at Rodney Hulme’s house party. He had starched and dried his cravat in the sun that morning and tied it carefully, ensuring he would not have to undo it and start again, thus risking the crispness of its snowy peaks. He had had his hair trimmed by the barber Mark had recommended in Bournemouth, his knee boots were polished to perfection and despite having seen a few seasons cut of his coat could still compete with the best Saville Row had to offer. Looking in the small sliver of mirror which he had acquired for personal grooming, Leo was satisfied with his appearance, despite his meagre resources he looked every inch a lord.

  At Davenham Manor Leo paused at the top of the stairs, looking down into the ballroom, seeking Tara. He vaguely heard his name being announced and reluctantly made his way down, still scanning the room for her. It was impossible for her not to be here, Lord Davenham’s ball was undoubtedly the highlight of the Bournemouth summer, Tara could not dream of missing such an occasion, but she was not on the dance floor nor was she seated with the matrons around the edges. He caught sight of Lady Penge dancing with their host and felt a small wave of relief, if her mother was here then Tara must be also. Perhaps Lord Davenham had a card room set up somewhere. Tara might be there. Ignoring the pointed looks from the society mothers seated nearest to the stairway, who were no doubt considering it his duty to dance with their dreary daughters, Leo made his way across to a promising doorway on the other side of the room.

  She couldn’t stay where she was, Tara realized. If Leo were looking for her, and she had no doubt he was, then he would see her sitting across from him the moment he re-emerged from the card room. Hastily she skirted around the edge of the ballroom, looking for somewhere where she would be unobtrusive, or even a retiring room, although hiding in one all evening was not a prospect that appealed to her.

  She had found nowhere, and then the door from the card room swung open. Without waiting to see who was coming out, Tara grabbed the nearest young man. ‘I’d love to dance,’ she babbled, heedless of the fact that the country dance in progress was well underway. Fortunately she had chosen well. The young man - and when she looked at him properly he seemed very young - looked startled but flattered. Gallantly he took her arm and they inserted themselves at the end of a set.

  For the moment she was safe from Leo. Tara suspected she would not be able to avoid him all evening but she was still so mortified by the discovery that he was a lord that she did not know what to say to him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leo come out of the card room. He saw her immediately and an odd look that she could not interpret crossed his face. Quickly she averted her eyes, but it was too late, he knew she’d seen him, yet given the way they’d parted he could hardly expect her to rush over to greet him, could he?

  The dance ended, and her young partner thanked her gravely for the dance before strutting away with a spring in his step, no doubt going to tell his friends how he had been as good as seduced by an older woman. For a second Tara watched him indulgently then flicked her gaze back to Leo. He was striding purposefully towards her. Tara started edging away through the dancers, more intent on keeping half an eye on Leo than on looking where she was going.

  ‘Lady Tara,’ the voice of the man she had nearly collided with was deep and melodious and Tara could not place it. She took a step back and saw she had virtually run into the host of the ball.

  ‘Good evening, Lord Davenham,’ she said, wondering how quickly she could end the conversation. Lord Davenham smiled benignly at her.

  ‘You are very like your mother,’ Lord Davenham said. Tara looked at him sharply, momentarily distracted, no one had ever said that to her before. ‘Do tell me about her while we dance.’ Tara heard herself give a little social giggle with a hint of hysteria in it. Her mother’s interest in Lord Davenham was clearly returned but while Lord Davenham was offering her another avenue of escape from Leo she could not picture herself finding anything coherent to say on the topic of her mother at that moment.

  ‘I’m afraid, Lord Davenham, that Lady Tara has promised this dance to me,’ Leo’s laconic tones from behind her made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up, but whether from anticipation or dread, Tara could not say.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Fosse,’ Lord Davenham said, every inch the correct gentleman, ‘I did not realize.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Leo said smoothly, executing a short bow in Lord Davenham’s direction. Then the musicians struck up in the familiar three time rhythm of the waltz and Leo held out his arms to Tara. She realized she was neatly trapped. Other than storming away and causing a scene, she had no choice other than to dance with him. His hand closed over her own and his other hand rested on the small of her back with as much ease as if they had done this a thousand times before. If she were judging by touch alone Tara would have said Leo was not angry with her at all, bu
t she knew better. She still did not know what to say - or rather she did know, but she could not quite bring herself to apologise for offering him the position of her estate manager, so she stayed silent, wondering what Leo wanted.

  Although Tara moved with him in perfect synchronicity, she was tense in his arms as she had never been before and Leo realized in dismay that mending bridges was not going to be as easy as it had seemed when he had talked the situation over with Caroline a week earlier. Of course there was a lot he hadn’t told his young cousin. Uneasily he recalled the way he had accused Tara of toying with Mark’s feelings and her sharp retort that it was none of his business. She had then made it perfectly clear that she would not renounce her friendship with Mark, but would let it progress as it would. He had never seriously considered Mark a rival for Tara’s affections, but suddenly, with Tara stiff and silent as she went through the motions of the waltz he wondered if he had underestimated his affable and unassuming cousin’s charms. Had his friendship with Tara indeed developed into something more? There was one way to find out.

  ‘Did you travel here with the Reeves tonight?’ the question came out more harshly than Leo intended, he sounded like an interrogator and it was hardly surprising that Tara should pull back from him even further and look up at him with startled eyes.

  ‘No,’ Tara shook her head, sounding puzzled as if Mark were the last topic of conversation she had expected. It should have reassured him, but Leo found, having now seriously considered Tara’s affections for Mark, he could not leave the subject alone.

  ‘Have you danced with Mark this evening?’ he asked.

  ‘We danced a country set,’ Tara said, narrowing her eyes a little as she looked at him and he wished he knew what she was thinking.

  ‘Is that all?’ he demanded. If he had been Mark he would not have been content with that, he would have escorted her to the refreshment table, or the card room or at least extracted a promise that she would save the first waltz for him. It occurred to him that Mark could not have done that last, it was so early in the evening that the waltz they were engaged in now must surely be the first waltz of the ball.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’ Tara asked in a low voice as the music drew to a close. You, he was about to say into the brief silence when she continued. ‘After I danced with Mark he went off to dance with Caroline. This is her first ball and he had promised her at least one dance. I gather you made her the same promise, perhaps you should go and ask her to dance now.’ Her suggestion was like a slap in the face, Leo recoiled and was about to do exactly as Tara proposed when the look in her eyes stopped him. Her words and her tone might be cool and bitter but her eyes told a different story, they beseeched him to stay. Once more she was giving him contradictory messages and not for the first time Leo wondered why he couldn’t have fallen in love with someone less complex.

  ‘I’m not in the mood for dancing,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘I see,’ Tara said and the next moment she was no longer in Leo’s arms, but had wrenched herself away and was slipping through the crowd as the first strains of the next dance started up. He felt a coolness replace the warmth of where she had been and cursing under his breath he dived between the dancers, following her.

  ‘If you have no partner for this dance…’ a voice said diffidently in his ear, but Leo ignored it and pushed his way between couples who threw him resentful looks. But he didn’t care, his only objective was Tara.

  Tara had no thought other than to escape from the ballroom. She thought that if she had to stand there facing Leo’s indifference a moment longer she would disgrace herself by bursting into tears. With no thought for where she was going she simply headed for where the press of people was thinnest, and suddenly she found herself stepping through a French door onto a wide terrace at the back of the house.

  The flagstoned terrace, streaked in moonlight under the scudding clouds, was blessedly empty of people. Tara crossed it quickly, rested her head in her hands, her elbows on the stone balustrade and tried to bring her thoughts into order. She had to apologise to Leo, she knew that, but he must have known she was unaware of his position in society. In the past few weeks they had spent so much time together, there had been plenty of opportunity for him to mention that he held a rank equal to her own, but he had chosen not to. A simmering resentment started to build within her.

  A footstep behind her made her whirl round and she was not surprised to see Leo stepping from the lighted doorway. The air, which had been heavy all day, had turned cold and the terrace would not have much allure for courting couples.

  ‘Lord Fosse,’ she said pointedly. ‘You have found me.’ Did he wince at the way she addressed him? In the uncertain moonlight it was hard to be sure, but Tara thought she detected a fleeting look of guilt on Leo’s face, but even if it had been there, it vanished almost immediately.

  ‘Lady Tara,’ he said coolly, ‘I had been hoping to speak to you privately.’ His use of her title cut her like a knife. He was subtly illustrating how remiss she had been in ignoring his.

  ‘You should have told me you were a lord,’ she said before she could stop herself, but her ignorance was her only defence.

  ‘Would it have made a difference?’ Leo asked, freezing a half step away from her. She felt cheated of his closeness and wanted to step towards him and close the gap between them, but pride held her where she was.

  ‘Of course it would,’ she choked out. ‘Had I known you were a lord I would never have made you so improper an offer.’ There, she had admitted her error. It was as close a thing to an apology as Leo was going to get and with that he would have to be content.

  He was close enough to Tara that she heard his sharp intake of breath. ‘You are unbelievable,’ he said, almost to himself.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded.

  ‘You’re so brazen!’ Leo said, and if the thought weren’t so absurd idea she would have believed he said it admiringly. ‘If I were less than a gentleman I would have accepted your offer and all that it implied. But as a lord I could not.’

  Tara glared at him. ‘You needn’t stress the point,’ she said. ‘I am well aware of your status and if you have quite finished humiliating me by reminding me of it I think I shall leave.’ Without giving him a chance to answer she turned on her heel and stalked off the terrace, down the steps into the garden. She had no goal in mind, but the thought of returning to the bright and merry ballroom after her latest clash with Leo was intolerable.

  Almost immediately she found herself in a knot garden. It was pretty, but too small to lose herself in so she swung open the gate which led into the pasture beyond and paused at the edge of the meadow. A sudden gust of wind swept a few stray raindrops onto her bare arms, but Tara didn’t care, she simply wanted to avoid Leo for the rest of the night. It was clear that he was not going to let her forget her treatment of him, nor could she forget his pointed words, they repeated themselves mercilessly in her head. If I were less than a gentleman I would have accepted your offer and all that it implied. Suddenly Leo’s true meaning struck her and she gasped out loud. He had thought that when she asked him to become the estate manager she was also proposing that she take up as his mistress! Surely not, the rational part of her mind protested, surely Leo could not have thought she would suggest such a thing! But he did. Is that what you wanted from me? he had asked her after his passionate embrace in the garden at Mark’s party, and she had said yes. There was no doubt about it, Leo believed that she had been asking him, Lord Fosse, to become her kept man. It was no wonder he was insulted!

  ‘Tara!’ Leo’s voice from not far behind her drummed on her ears. If she had wanted to avoid him before, it was nothing to how she felt now. Without pausing to think, Tara gathered up her skirts and ran. She threw herself across the darkened field, running as fast as she could, sharp stalks of straggly grass cut at her ankles, but she did not care, all that mattered was to escape Leo, she didn’t think she could ever face him again. ‘Tara!’ he sho
uted once more as she topped the curve of the hill and plunged down the other side.

  It was colder here, much colder, presumably with a chill that rolled in from the sea. Tara could hear the pounding of Leo’s boots as he crushed the dry grasses on the slope behind her and she pushed on, warm enough with the effort to ignore the cold wind. Then the sound of Leo’s footsteps became muffled, drowned in the faintest of pitter-patters and Tara had only a split second warning to o she realize what it was before a curtain of rain swept over her and almost immediately she was drenched to the skin. The stiff satin of her dress afforded her only momentary protection from the downpour before the fabric caved in, yielding to the water, quite saturated and clinging uncomfortably to her skin. Tara came to an abrupt stop in her headlong flight and stood there quite dismayed. She would have to go back to Davenham Manor, she had no really choice, it was far too cold to remain where she was. But the thought of going back and explaining her predicament was unappealing in the extreme. She shook her head, trying to flick water out of her eyes, but the rain gave her no respite. Miserably she forced herself to turn around, ready to retrace her footsteps.

  ‘Tara!’ Leo had found her. For a moment they stared at each other wordlessly then he ripped off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. Instantly Tara felt some relief from the cold and the rain, then Leo wrapped his arm around her waist and began guiding her rapidly over the field. For a minute she was content to be led blindly, then she realized that they were not heading in the direction of the manor, but away from it, towards the hills.

  ‘W-where are we going?’ she asked from between chattering teeth.