Until, that is, that one evening in the cove. In her memory she retraced their steps that night. They’d walked out together after an early dinner, escaping the last frenetic preparations for the morrow when they would travel to London in company with Lady Veryan. Christabel was to stay at the Veryans’ town house and Richard’s mother was to supervise her purchase of bride clothes, her own mother being unable to leave her younger siblings for any protracted period.
It had been a beautiful evening in early summer and they’d sauntered at dusk towards the sea along a lane already heavy with hawthorn. Very soon the granite rocks and soft white sand of their beloved cove came into view. The sea was flat calm and Richard had begun to skim stones along the surface of the water. She had joined in, trying to make her stones bounce further. It was an old game of their childhood. The competition between them grew fierce and he shouted with delight when he finally made an unbeatable shot. Beneath the newly polished surface, he was still not much more than a boy. With mischief in her eyes, she’d challenged him to another contest from their childhood: who could swim out the furthest without pausing for breath. He’d demurred; they were not dressed for the water and in any case it hardly seemed proper. In answer, she’d stripped off her clothes down to her chemise, leaving Richard staring in wonderment at the lithe, willowy figure standing so close to him. Then he had been seized by the same madness and was stripped and plunging into the cool water before she had time to reach the sea’s edge. They had swum out until they were both exhausted and then drifted lazily back towards the shore, the waters around them silvered by the moon newly risen in a clear sky. She was floating beside him and on impulse it seemed he’d caught hold of her, encircling her waist with his arms and tangling his face in her salt-soaked curls. The feel of his hard, male body against hers took her breath away and she knew a frantic desire to hold him close to her, to meld her body to his. Her legs looped around him and their flesh met in a mutual caress. Even now she grew hot thinking of it.
But the moment was over almost as soon as it arrived, the spark extinguished, and they were scrambling up the beach and into their clothes as though pursued by the Furies, ashamed it seemed of that instant of burning connection. The next day they had left for London and a round of parties, routs, ridottos, balls, such as she’d never before encountered: a kaleidoscope of pleasure which took over her life. As an affianced woman she’d enjoyed the freedom it conferred, freedom to talk unchaperoned with other men, freedom to dance and even to flirt with them, and freedom to meet a Joshua.
A magnificent rout was to be held that evening at the Seftons’ London mansion, a short distance from Mount Street. Sophia, insatiable as always for ton society, was greatly excited at attending such a prestigious event. It was sure to afford her a splendid hunting ground for potential partners. The torrential rain had done Christabel little harm other than a ruined dress, but she was grateful that it served as an excuse for staying home that night. She was more than happy to spend a quiet evening by herself when the alternative was the painful spectacle of Richard and Domino together. She was lying curled on her bed, flicking through back numbers of Lady’s Magazine, when her mother slid quietly into the room.
‘Have you seen these extraordinary models, Mama? They must be at least ten feet tall,’ she said with an attempt at gaiety. The emaciated females depicted were so long and thin as almost to disappear off the page.
Her mother smiled slightly. ‘Extraordinary indeed! They would be quite terrifying to meet in the flesh.’
She sat down on the bed and took her daughter’s hand. ‘I came to say, Bel, that I won’t be going to the Seftons’ rout tonight. There is little need for my presence: their house is within easy walking distance and Benedict can act as escort to his sister for the evening. It won’t do him any harm to take on a little responsibility while he’s enjoying his holiday. And it will give us the chance to have a comfortable coze.’
Christabel’s heart sank; an evening spent alone with her mother was the last thing she wanted. Pressing her hand to her forehead in a gesture of pain, she hoped that she looked convincing.
‘I’m so glad you’re staying home, Mama, I’m not feeling at all the thing. I must have caught a chill in that downpour.’
Her mother looked suspicious and glanced pointedly at the magazines her daughter had been devouring. Christabel redoubled her efforts.
‘I’ve been trying to distract myself with these,’ she murmured, leafing through them with a weary motion, ‘but without much success. I feel so hot—I think I may be developing a fever. It’s best if I retire to bed early and try to sleep it off.’
Her mother’s expression remained sceptical, but without another word she turned to go, quietly shutting the door behind her. It was unlikely that Lady Harriet would believe in her illness, but Christabel was beyond caring. After the day’s events, her mother’s gentle enquiries would be the last straw. Until Richard arrived in London, her future path had been clear, if uninviting. The time had come for her to step out of her sister’s way and there had been a simple choice: wed a good man who loved her or remain a spinster without consequence or respect.
For years she’d kept at bay even the most determined of suitors. A glacial reserve had served her well, but now it had been ruptured. She had begun to feel again. The dance at Almack’s, the encounter by the lake, had begun an unstoppable thaw which threatened to trigger an avalanche of feelings she must not entertain. Today by the lakeside she had known no reserve. She had responded ardently to her body’s impulses, she had throbbed with desire for Richard to possess her. How truly shocking! But his conduct was even more shocking. He was not hers to be possessed and yet he’d sought her out, danced with her as though he could have danced her into bed—she blushed deeply at the thought—embraced her, caressed her, imprinted her with his passion. And at the very same time he’d used every possible opportunity to taunt her with his new-found love, the girl it appeared he was ready to make his wife. It had to be part of his plan to pay her back for betraying him—there was no other explanation. No matter how softly he spoke or how enamoured he appeared, he was intent on exacting a penance from her. The thought overwhelmed her. She felt as though a giant hand had descended out of nowhere and squeezed every vestige of life from her heart and her body. She was no longer the woman who had bid Sir Julian farewell just a few days ago and she dreaded meeting him again.
Sir Julian, meanwhile, was looking in vain for his beloved at the Seftons’ rout. He had despatched his business at Rosings as swiftly as he could and returned to London in time to attend the evening event. He knew that Christabel had been invited and was hoping that he would have the chance to talk privately with her.
He had unfinished business and was anxious to settle it as soon as possible. He had no doubt of her answer—she had made it plain that he was her preferred suitor—and had not her sister called him Christabel’s fiancé, making it clear that the Tallis family expected an imminent betrothal. But he wanted their relationship to be made firm and public. He was a man who liked an ordered life and was looking forward to planning their future together.
‘How good to see you back so soon, Sir Julian!’ It was Sophia, looking a little less exotic this evening in rose-pink lustring.
Sir Julian searched his memory, for he was sure he should know this young woman.
‘Sophia Tallis, Christabel’s sister,’ she helped him out.
‘Why, of course. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance again, Miss Sophia.’ Sir Julian sounded genuinely glad to see her. If she were here, then Christabel would not be far away.
‘And how was your visit to Rosings?’
‘Busy, very busy,’ Sir Julian mused, ‘but nevertheless restful. I find the house has an aura of great tranquillity