Lady Polly Part 11

"We were having such a nice time," she said regretfully.

"I am sorry that it has had to end this way."

It was very dark down the steep little pa.s.sage that led to the street where the carriages were waiting. The scent of honeysuckle still hung in the air and the stars arched above them. Polly, trying to find her way in the dark, suddenly remembered that she had not even thanked Lord Henry for rescuing her.

"I am sorry," she said in a small voice, "I should have thanked you.

Your arrival was most timely, my lord. I hope that I have not taken you away from your friends?"

"I am here alone," Lord Henry said, sounding preoccupied.

"It is comforting to think that you feel safer with me than with that ruffian!"

This was an aspect of the situation that had not occurred to Polly at all.

She stopped in an arched doorway. It was not possible to see Lord Henry's face in the pale light.

"Oh, I never even thought--' she said, uncertainly.

"Perhaps you should have done." Lord Henry sounded grim.

"You were flatteringly quick to entrust yourself to me, but my reputation is scarce such that a young lady should consider taking a walk in the dark with me!"

"Well!" Polly had had time to become indignant.

"I think it most unfair of you to ring a peal over me for trusting you, sir!

I had little choice but to consider you the lesser of two evils!"

She heard Lord Henry laugh at that.

"Better the devil you know?" His shoulder brushed a spray of honeysuckle and released fresh scent into the air. He was very close and Polly suddenly became intensely aware of his physical presence. Her throat felt constricted.

"Besides..." she was clutching at straws now 'on the last occasion that we met, sir, you behaved with perfect propriety! It led me to believe that what I had heard of you was grossly exaggerated--' She had taken a cautious step forward as she spoke, missed her footing on a step, and felt Lord Henry's arms go around her to steady her.

"You misjudged me," Lord Henry said with satisfaction, 'and this. Lady Polly, is where I have been wanting you ever since I saw you this evening. " The dark night was intimate and warm. Polly felt curiously anonymous, as though she could say anything, do anything, without it really mattering.

She did not try to break away from him, but stood in the circle of his arms, their bodies touching lightly. In the silence she could hear him breathing.

She raised her mouth to Henry's, waiting in a fever of antic.i.p.ation for the gentle persuasiveness of his first kiss to deepen into pa.s.sion.

She pressed herself against him, entwining her arms about his neck to hold him close. He was keeping his kisses frustratingly light, but when Polly slid her hands into his hair she heard him groan and his mouth returned to hers with more force and more demand. She parted her lips beneath the sensual pressure of his and leaned back against the doorway, drawing him with her. It was as though she had become a creature of sensation only. Her cloak had slid back and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers creating a delicious, seductive need within her.

One of his hands brushed the cloak aside and moved to caress her breast very gently. His mouth was rough on hers now and she revelled in it, gasping his name against his lips. And then, suddenly, it was over and she was left s.h.i.+vering in the chill breeze.

"Enough, sweetheart! It seems I misjudged you, too. Such sweet responsiveness will be my undoing!"

There was an undertone of laughter in Henry's voice, but he still sounded shaken.

"My innocent, wayward Lady Polly--have you any idea just what you are doing?"

With great deliberation he pulled her cloak close about her and turned her around.

Polly felt cold and bereft. She wanted to be back in his arms, wanted it quite dreadfully. And yet, all she had ever been taught suggested that this had to be wrong. It was desperately confusing.

"I'm sorry--' she began, in a small voice, but Henry took her arm in a comforting hold.

"Do not be. It was my fault. I thought I knew what I was doing, but you proved me wrong." She saw him grin.

"You may have been smothered in propriety but it seems there may be a chance to redeem you!" He took Polly's face in his hands and kissed her again lightly.

"Now, we must go down to the Well Walk before I forget myself even further."

He took her hand and drew Polly reluctantly down the remaining steps, taking care to let her go before they emerged into the lamplight. The carriages were all drawn up on the Walk and Lucille and the Dowager Countess were already there, turning hopefully at the sound of footsteps, their faces breaking into relief.

"Polly! Poor child! Whatever has happened to you? You're shaking!"

Lucille enfolded her in a comforting hug. Over Polly's head she said to Henry,

"Nicholas is scouring the Terrace, but he should be back directly!

Oh, he will be so grateful. Henry! We were so worried!"

Polly shrank into the shadows whilst the Dowager Countess pressed her slightly more grudging thanks on Lord Henry. She was sure that she must look as bemused and dazed as she felt.

"Thank G.o.d she came to no harm," the Dowager was saying gruffly, eyeing her daughter's fl.u.s.tered face and fortunately attributing her confusion to the shock of being lost.

"We are indebted to you, sir."

Lord Henry smiled.

"By great good chance Lady Polly came to no lasting hurt this evening."

His eyes met Polly's and she saw the wicked twinkle there. She hoped desperately that it was dark enough to hide her burning face.

"Do not be too hard on her, ma'am! I have taken her to task enough for her behaviour!"

"Harry Marehnight playing the moralist!" the Dowager Countess said as the coach rumbled home.

"Who would have thought it! Evidently he has an understanding of proper behaviour after all! I expect he was most uncompromising!"

Polly s.h.i.+vered, remembering the explosive heat of the encounter with Henry.

There had certainly been little of compromise about it.

"He was indeed, Mama!" she said, and only Lucille saw the shadow of a smile that touched her sister-in-law's mouth as she sat back in her corner of the carriage and dreamed.

It was much later that night when Lord Henry March night strolled un.o.btrusively into the card room at White's and glanced around with apparent lack of interest at the games that were in progress. At one table an older gentleman of military bearing was winning steadily at whist, a shrewd look in his eye and a gla.s.s of water at his elbow.

"Fitz patrick has the luck of the devil," Simon Verey said in Lord Henry's ear.

"How does he do it?"