Page 13 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

Nina had had a new evening gown at Christmas, a present from Mr Cowling, which she had worn only once.

Having been poor most of her life, she still had a mental reservation about wearing her ‘best’ things unless the occasion was exceptional, something she tried to laugh herself out of, now she was married to an immensely rich man.

What are you saving it for, silly girl? she asked herself, and told Tina to put it out.

It was of celadon-green silk tulle, with a three-quarter overdress of black lace, the scalloped hem edged with black net and weighted with jet beads.

The sleeves were full to the elbow, with tight-fitting black lace cuffs from elbow to wrist. The contrast of pale green and black was striking, she thought – almost daring.

Mr Cowling had said she looked radiant in it.

With it she wore her emerald necklace and spray.

Bobby, in her usual blue, greeted Nina with a kiss and moaned, ‘You look far too good for our humble ball. We don’t even have any royalty coming! The best I can put up is the lord lieutenant.’

Nina’s eyes widened. ‘But he’s a duke!’

‘Are you impressed?’ Bobby laughed. ‘You, whose husband knows the King?’

‘Well, I’m glad I wore my new gown,’ Nina said. ‘Mr Cowling will be sorry to have missed meeting the lord lieutenant.’

‘I expect he knows him too. He knows everyone,’ Bobby sighed. ‘You’re so lucky.’

‘How do you know him?’

‘He and Aubrey were at school together.’

Nina laughed. ‘You’re such a humbug!’

Bobby grinned. ‘Well, Rutland is rather a poppet. And much more fun than his predecessor. Now, promise me you’ll dance every dance!’

‘That rather depends on my being asked, doesn’t it?’ Nina said.

But she was in no danger of sitting out.

She danced the first with Adam, then was immediately claimed by Lord Foxton who, despite being over sixty, was a determined flirt and an amusing companion.

She was then asked by the duke, who was very agreeable, and then there was a sort of scuffle for her hand between Lord Belton and Johnny Faversham, who were both cut out by Sir Bradley Graham, the local MP, while they were arguing.

‘You seem to be setting the room by the ears, my dear,’ Sir Bradley said. ‘I must say I’m not surprised.’

‘ I am. It’s very silly,’ she said firmly. ‘I think it must be the Wharfedales’ wine going to their heads. There’s nothing special about me.’

He smiled. ‘A sentiment a gentleman is bound by honour to disagree with – but in this case I am happy to be able to do it with sincerity. You are a very lovely young woman, and that gown sets you off to perfection.’

‘I’m sure you’re flattering me, but thank you.’

‘Mr Cowling is away on business, I gather?’

‘Yes, it does call him away a good deal.’

‘Hm,’ said Sir Bradley. ‘If an old man might presume to offer advice, beware of Mr Faversham. He has a reputation as a rake. And Lord Belton, though married, is not much better. Forgive me, but you are still very young. They make themselves agreeable, but they will not enhance your standing.’

‘Surely they must be respectable, if the Wharfedales invited them?’ she said uncertainly.

‘Indeed. But there are degrees of respectability. However, I am being impertinent in thrusting my advice upon you. Please pay no attention.’

But she did, and perhaps laughed a little less and romped a great deal less than she otherwise might have, being surrounded all evening by flirts determined to flatter and charm her.

She was still only nineteen, and though education had perhaps made her older than her years, she had not had a great deal of fun since she married, and had been left alone a good deal.

It was only natural that she should want to enjoy herself, and should respond to the attentions of amusing men.

Still, it was a relief when Adam claimed her for the last dance before supper, and she could relax, as with a brother.

He seemed more serious than usual. ‘You are extremely popular this evening,’ he remarked.

She looked up at him. ‘Have I done wrong? I was trying to be seemly, but they try so hard to make me laugh. And they are all so ridiculous when they flirt.’

‘You find flirts ridiculous? Well, that’s reassuring, at least. And saves me from having to.’

‘I didn’t know you did,’ she said, wide-eyed.

‘Oh, cruel! Have I wasted all my best ploys on you?’

‘It seems you have. Now you will have to talk to me sensibly instead.’

So he did, discussing impressionism and the difference between Manet and Monet, and she relaxed further.

By the time the music stopped, she was quite comfortable.

He was to take her down to supper, so she unhooked her train and tucked her hand under his arm.

He said, ‘Let’s wait a moment for the crush to ease,’ and stepped back from the doorway with her.

When the crowd was almost gone, he said, ‘Before we go down, let me show you that Monet I was telling you about. It’s on the next landing upstairs – one of his paintings of his garden.

You will see what I meant about the brushstrokes. ’

She thought nothing of it, and allowed him to conduct her up the stairs, but when they turned the corner of the landing he suddenly took her into his arms and kissed her.

He was a young, handsome man and she liked him, and it was perhaps understandable that for an instant she did not struggle.

Her body was starved of affection, and responded automatically; her lips softened for his.

It was when his own kiss became more urgent that she came to her senses.

She pulled back, and struggled out of his embrace. ‘No,’ she cried.

‘No?’ he repeated, with a wry lift of the eyebrow.

She blushed. ‘How could you? You – you took advantage of me!’

‘Nina, my dear, your lips say “no” now, but a moment ago they spoke a different message.’

‘It’s wrong. You know it’s wrong.’

‘But you want to.’

She began to say no , but stopped, then shook her head, staring at the floor. She knew she should flounce away from him, but she felt confused and unhappy.

Sensing it, he spoke gently. ‘I’m what you need, Nina. And I can give it to you safely. It would be our secret. No-one would ever know. You cannot believe I would ever allow harm to come to you. In the time I’ve known you, you have become very dear to me. If you weren’t married, I would—’

She looked up sharply, and he stopped. ‘But I am married,’ she said.

He took her hands. ‘When an old man marries a beautiful young girl, what does he expect?’

She pulled her hands away. ‘Don’t say that! You don’t know him. He’s kind, and good, and—’

‘Does he make your heart race? Does he fill your thoughts? Does he haunt your dreams? Does he make you feel like this?’ He raised his hand and cupped her cheek, then trailed his fingers softly over her lips.

She caught his hand, pushed it back against his chest. ‘Stop it,’ she said.

Her body might react to him, but she had a defence he did not know about.

There had been someone who made her heart race.

He had filled her thoughts and, despite anything she could do, he still haunted her dreams. She tried to sound wryly matter-of-fact.

‘You’re just amusing yourself. You know you don’t really love me. ’

‘But I could,’ he said seriously. ‘I so easily could. And I hate to see you wasted, Nina. You should be loved and caressed and made to sing like a happy bird. Your life should bloom with happiness and satisfaction. You should walk about with a little secret smile on your lips, remembering the night just past and looking forward to the night to come. Let me do that for you. Let me make you happy.’

‘We must go down,’ she said. ‘We’ll be missed.’

‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘Just consider it. I will wait for you.’

She was angry now at his lack of repentance. ‘What would Bobby say if she heard you?’

‘She would be in full agreement,’ he said.

‘Then she would be as wrong as you.’ She turned away.

He fell in beside her, still unshaken. ‘Just remember I am here whenever you want me. And take my arm on the stairs. It would be held much against me if you were to stumble.’

She took his arm – it was difficult to descend a staircase in a long gown – but said, ‘No more of this, please. You must stop.’

‘Consider me stopped,’ he said; but added quietly, ‘For now.’

And at the bottom of the staircase, she almost walked into Decius Blake. Her husband’s secretary and right hand. She met his eyes with a startled look, and blushed deeply.

He regarded her with an expression so neutral it was as good as a rebuke. ‘Mrs Cowling,’ he said.

She was angry with herself for blushing; she felt dishevelled, though she knew she was not. One kiss, and that not even wanted by her! But what must Decius be thinking, seeing her come down the stairs with Adam when she should have been in the supper room?

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, pulling her hand away from Adam’s arm.

Adam responded to Decius’s glance with a slight nod, but he said nothing.

‘Mr Cowling asked me to come back. He felt guilty about your having to come to the ball alone. He thought that if I could get here in time, I could at least take you in to supper, and look after you for the rest of the ball.’

‘Mrs Cowling has had no shortage of partners so far,’ Adam said. ‘I’m sure she will not need to fall back on your services after supper.’

Decius did not look at him. ‘And I’ll escort you home afterwards,’ he went on, as though there had been no interruption.

‘You are – he is very kind,’ Nina faltered.

‘He thinks about you all the time,’ Decius said, and for the first time there was a hint of reproach in his voice. He offered his arm. ‘If I may?’

‘ I am taking Mrs Cowling in to supper,’ Adam said.

‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough?’ Decius said quietly. He looked at Nina, his arm insistently crooked. ‘Mrs Cowling?’