Regency Surrender: Rebellious Debutantes. Annie Burrows

up the other chair to the table and grasping her hands. ‘To leave you alone for such a long time.’ He raised each hand in turn, kissing it penitently.

      She looked at him in confusion. No wonder she’d started to think he was developing some real affection for her. But this was just...gallantry. If she’d had any experience of suitors, in the past, she would have known that this was how men behaved with women. That it meant nothing.

      He should have picked either Dotty or Lotty. Either of them would have coped with him far, far better than she was doing.

      ‘Well,’ he said, starting to chafe her hands between his own. ‘I’ve achieved everything I needed to get done today, so now I’m all yours.’ He gave an uneasy laugh. ‘Though from the look you’re giving me that information doesn’t exactly please you. Dash it, where’s that waiter? Your hands are like ice. Your feet, too, I dare say.’

      She thought she’d kept her face impassive, but something must have shown, for he shook his head and said ruefully, ‘Ah, Mary. You don’t have anything to worry about. On my word of honour, I’ll do better from now on. To start with, we’ll have a slap-up meal, and...and talk to each other. Yes? Not downstairs in one of the public rooms, but up here, since you are looking a little...’

      Plain? Mousy? Not smartly dressed enough to be able to look the well-heeled clientele in the eye?

      ‘Uncomfortable,’ he finished.

      ‘I...I don’t feel very hungry,’ she said. ‘Today has been...just a bit...rather...’

      ‘Hasn’t it, though? Not two weeks ago I thought I’d never get married. Now here I am in a hotel room with my bride, on my wedding night. Takes your breath away, don’t it?’

      She nodded.

      ‘Do you know what I think?’

      She shook her head. That was the trouble. She kept imagining he was thinking things he’d told her point-blank he wasn’t going to think.

      ‘I think by leaving you hanging all afternoon, you’ve ended up feeling like a game bird ready for plucking. And that I ought to set about making you feel like a bride, instead.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I think you know very well what I mean,’ he growled, pulling her to her feet.

      She uttered a squeak of surprise when he hefted her into his arms.

      A woman with more pride, she expected, would have put up some form of protest.

      Mary put her arms round his neck, buried her face in his shoulder and clung to his solid warmth as he strode with her over to his bedroom.