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Natalia sighed deeplyand studied her reflection in the full-length mirror in her dressing room. “Grace,” she called to her abigail, “bring me my woolen shawl.”
“But, my lady, the city is in the midst of an unusually warm spring,” the confused maid replied. “You will swelter and melt in the heat. You know ‘tis unbecoming for a proper lady to perspire.”
“I said, bring me the shawl,” Natalia spoke through gritted teeth and the usually cheerful servant hopped to and did as she was bid.
Though she had been ordered to bed the night before like a misbehaving child, Tallie had slept little and plotted much. The punishment Zander had meted out to her had been a horrible and humiliating experience. Though she had slept at least part of the night on her stomach due to the sting in her backside, she had to admit to herself that the most painful aspect of the whole incident had been the embarrassment of having her bottom on display for Zander, not to mention allowing him to see her cry.
Well, if he thought he could smack her arse a few times and then tell her what to do, he had another think coming.
Taking the heavy shawl from Grace, Tallie wrapped herself up to her chin, though the additional covering was hardly necessary considering the high-necked bodice of her morning gown—the oldest and most worn in her wardrobe. Grace had fussed over a small fray in the hem, but Tallie had shushed her over it.
The maid continued to gape at her mistress as though she had been replaced by an alien being.
Next, Tallie reached into her coiffure and rearranged several of the pins so her once-elegant hairstyle now reminded her of the sensible bun worn by Mrs. Maddox, the cook.
“My apologies, my lady,” Grace said. “I did not realize you were displeased with the way I had styled your hair. I found the arrangement in one of your fashion magazines and thought it would become you.” Grace stared at the floor in supplication.
“Grace,” Natalia said, “please do not blame yourself. You have done a wonderful job.” The servant glanced up hesitantly.
“But,” Tallie continued while removing her jewels, “I have no interest in looking fetching this morning as Lord Banyon and his mother are to call and I do not wish to attract his attention any more than necessary.”
Grace tipped her head to the side and furrowed her brow. “I beg your pardon, my lady. I do not understand.”
Tallie flopped down upon an upholstered stool. “Grace, what am I to do? Mr. Thwaite insists I am to marry Lord Banyon, but I have no interest in being his wife. As I am sure he has no interest in being my husband. Or, at least I wish to make sure he has no interest in being my husband.”
Slowly understanding dawned on Grace. “What do you have in mind, my lady?”
Their conversation was halted by a knock on the door that Grace answered, then turned to Tallie. “Mr. Thwaite wishes to see you.”
“I asked if she was presentable, Grace,” Zander’s voice carried into the room and suddenly Tallie did not feel so confident in her scheme. She waved her hand at the maid, signaling that she ought to get rid of Zander. If he saw her now, her whole plan would be defeated.
Zander would not be put off and barged past the servant into Tallie’s bedchamber. He took one look at Tallie and ordered Grace to leave the room. Then he locked the door and turned to face his errant ward.
Arms folded across his chest, his eyes raked Tallie from head to toe. A trickle of perspiration rolled down her spine, possibly due to the heavy woolen shawl, but more likely it was caused by the thunderous look in Zander’s dark eyes.
In addition to the heat flushing her upper body, telltale moisture collected between her thighs. Was this not what she had dreamed of—Zander, intense and brooding, standing in her bedchamber?
However, the glint in his eye spoke more of anger than desire.
“H-how can I h-help you, Z-zander?” She licked her lips for they had suddenly turned to parchment. “Have our g-guests arrived?” Her voice quavered and she cursed her lack of nerve.
“They ought to be here any moment, which is why I came to check on you.” His eyes narrowed on her, lingering on the scratchy shawl bundled around her neck. “And it would appear my instincts were correct.”
“Wh-whatever do you mean, Zander?” Tallie knew it was foolish to pretend nothing was amiss, yet her mind was in such a muddle, she could think of nothing else.
“Oh, please, Natalia. ‘Tis bad enough you have lowered yourself to this sort of schoolgirl prank, but then to pretend I do not notice it? What sort of fool do you take me for? It is this sort of childishness which I had hoped would have been eradicated by the Hammersmith School, but apparently that was not the case.”
Zander’s anger stung, but worse was his reference to her as a childish schoolgirl. It was no wonder he did not take her opinion about marrying Lord Banyon into account when he saw her as nothing but a girl in need of guidance.
However, she would not be cowed by his pique.
“There is nothing wrong with my attire,” she said, jutting her chin out for good measure. “The morning is cool and I do not wish to catch a chill.”
Storming the short distance between them, Zander yanked at the shawl until it came apart and fell away. Though she remained covered from ankle to throat by her morning gown, the power of his pull upon her garment gave her a feeling of being exposed and vulnerable. Beneath her well-worn dress, Tallie’s nipples hardened with eagerness, though she dared not glance down to see if they were obvious beneath her dress.
Anger flashed in Zander’s eyes. “This is the dress you chose for meeting your future husband?”
“When did you become an expert on ladies’ fashion? It is a perfectlysuitabledress for morning callers. Everyone knows one does not expose arms or throat before afternoon.”
