A Proper Mistress (25 page)

Only Terrance, it seemed, was even less likely to obey his father than was Theo.

Well, at least she no longer worried about this taking so long. She had reason enough to give Sallie her notice when she got back to London. And she hoped to do so with the money for her inn in her pocket. Yes, that was the true brightness behind the clouds of worry. Just like the sky that day.

Despite the day starting warm, by mid-morning the weather looked uncertain. Clouds piled in the west, tumbling into each other and turning dark with rain. The pending storm left the air still and heavy, and left Molly restless.

Theo had wanted her to go riding with him that morning. He insisted she was ready for a gallop, but with muscles still aching from their last lesson, she had sent him away, telling him she wanted to ready herself for that promised trip to the Norman tower. Now she rather thought she might try to lure him into billiards instead.

Or perhaps into visiting Lady Thorpe again. That would be dry enough if they took a closed carriage.

She had gone once on her own to visit Lady Thorpe. Sylvain had been there again—and was introduced as the Duchess of York. She had become Lady Thorpe's lost niece, and while it had unsettled her at first, she soon discovered she enjoyed being someone's relative. A relief that, since the Winslows were enough to make anyone wonder about the pleasures of having blood kin.

A half hour later, and after more almond cakes than she could count, she had found herself quite at home.

It seemed, too, as if Lady Thorpe's too protective butler, Grieg, had decided she intended no harm. Or perhaps he trusted Sylvain to keep an eye on her. In either case, he had been almost pleasant.

But going to Lady Thorpe's was like stepping into a dream. And a body always had to wake up. She knew that. However, she didn't think that knowledge would give her feelings any protection.

With a shake of her head, she went downstairs.

The squire, however, was not there to scandalize with the thin muslin. That left her rather put out—all that effort and only Simpson, two of the maids, and a footman whose eyes grew large as she walked past him to impress with her wicked ways.

Perhaps she ought to have taken Theo up on his suggestions to ride in the altogether.

Going off to the billiards room, she practiced her shots and she kept watching the drive for Theo's return.

She had no idea which horse he had taken from the stable. In truth, she actually had a difficult time telling one from another, unless they happened to be different colors. But she would never admit that to Theo. He seemed to regard each horse as a close friend. Much as did the squire. They were alike in that, as in so many areas.

Her shot went wide, but she did not even take note, for ideas had begun to spin.

So alike—and she certainly knew Theo's weakness. He had shown it the first day they met in how he had reacted to her calling him a boy. It might be the same with his father. Gracious, this had been there before her all along. Only she had not wanted to see it—had not wanted to recognize the truth of it.

It would work. But, afterwards, Theo might well not want anything more to do with her. Still, she had to tell him about this new idea to earn him his father's wrath. And he might feel better about everything, too, if it got him what he wanted. So all might yet be well.

Thunder grumbled and she glanced out the windows to glimpse a horseman galloping toward the house with reckless ease.

It had to be Theo.

Putting away her billiards stick, she headed toward the stable, her heart beating fast as she tried to sort out the exact way to tell him. She would start first with the news that she had exactly the plan to work. And she tried not to think about how this also meant the end of her time at Winslow Park, and with Theo.

But perhaps, later, he would come help her with her inn? After all, he would have nothing else to do.

And perhaps I might as well wish for wings.

Hurrying her steps, she ran outside, her skirts lifted.

She had forgotten about her scandalous dress until she stepped into the stable-yard and the groom stopped in the act of leading a puffing gray horse into the stables.

"Theo, I've just the—"

She broke off the words as the gentleman turned and she realized that he wasn't Theo, but a taller, broader version of him. He wore his hat at the same rakish angle. But his eyes were tawny brown, not blue.

"You're not Theo!"

As soon as the words slipped out, she knew how stupid they sounded. But she had not been able to keep the disappointment within her. Not Theo—Terrance.

He grinned at her, an uncannily similar expression to Theo's. "Perceptive of you. However, you certainly must be his fancy piece—and I can see why he took you up."

Her cheeks warmed, but there was little she could do about it, or about how she must look in the thin muslin of her gown. He was staring at her, his gaze assessing. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she gave him back just as much measuring.

A brown riding coat hung open, showing a buff waistcoat stretched over a broad chest. Black riding boots and buckskin breeches shaped muscular legs, looking as expensive as only clothes made to a perfect fit could. Instead of a white cravat, he wore a blue kerchief with white dots knotted at his neck.

He had the look of a Winslow in his square jaw and straight nose. With his glittering eyes and reddened cheeks, he also looked a bit drunk, though he stood steady on his feet.

"As a prodigal son, you leave a fair bit to be desired," she said, already cross with him. He looked a care-for-nobody, and she could box his ears for all the trouble he had caused his brother and father.

Black eyebrows lifted for a moment with affronted irritation, but amusement glimmered in his eyes.

In two strides, he crossed the distance to her and his large hands wrapped tight around her waist. By instinct, she stiffened and pushed against him. She might as well have pushed against the stone wall around the stable yard.

He only smiled more. "If we're talking of what's desired, let's speak more of you, my little bird of paradise."

Fat, wet drops—too few yet to be called rain—began to splatter on them and around them. But he took no notice.

She glared up at him. "I'd rather go inside and avoid both a wetting and you!"

He gave a laugh.

He was taller and broader than Theo—coarser made. His features, while handsome, lacked the refinement of Theo's, and dissipation had left its mark as well, roughening his skin and the edges of his jaw and cheeks, like the blunting of a knife.

But a blunt knife still could cut, she knew.

He pulled her closer, and she leaned back, though her waist now pressed against him. "There's just no avoiding some things in life," he said, and gave her a wink.

She pushed again, but it did no good. He smelled of ale and brandy, and every instinct warned against him. This time she saw the jagged lightning as it flashed in the sky. Seconds later thunder rumbled.

Worried, she glanced up at the sky, then at him. "And other things are easily avoided. We're about to be soaked."

He paid no heed to her, but only said, "I couldn't believe the story in London that m'brother had been seen leaving town with a fancy piece. The question is, while it's obvious what he's doing with you, why in Hades is he doing it here in the ancestral pile?"

She almost blurted out the truth—that it was all his fault. However, it really ought to be Theo who told him. So she broadened her Sallie voice, saying, "He brought me home to marry me, he did. And he won't be none too happy to hear you've been handlin' me!"

He grinned again and she saw he had wolfish teeth with points edging two of them. Her stomach knotted. If it had been Terrance come to Sallie's for a woman, Molly would have turned him down on first sight.

"If I'm to be your brother-in-law, seems only fair that I kiss the bride."

He started to pull her to him, but she put her hand up, knocking off his hat before she managed to cover her mouth. She said, word muffled by her fingers, "Kisses come after the marriage, ducks!"

Capturing her wrist, he dragged it behind her. "Not in my books—'ducks.'"

She twisted again, but he had hold of her other wrist and swept her arms behind her. He turned her so her back pressed against the stone of the stable yard wall. Wet drops splashed to the ground around them and onto her face like angry tears.

"Here now—what sort of gentlemen do you call yourself!"

"Not much of one at all," he said, his tone pleasant. And he leaned toward her.

Clenching her back teeth, she made up her mind to bite him, but in the next moment there was a clatter almost as loud as thunder of steel-shod hooves on the cobbled yard.

Terrance's hold on her loosened as he half turned at the interruption. In the next instant, he spun away from her as if dragged.

She looked up to see Theo already off his horse, one hand fisted into his brother's coat lapels and blue eyes blazing as his fist connected with his brother's jaw in a cracking sound that made her wince.

Terrance staggered back, his heel slipping on the wet cobbles. He went down with a grunt.

Standing over his brother, Theo shook the pain from the knuckles of his right hand. "Blazes, but you always did have a head thick as oak!"

Starting to sit up, Terrance rubbed his jaw. "That was a lucky punch."

"Get up and I'll show you lucky," Theo said, already settling into a boxing stance. His brother carried an extra four stone on him, but he had the advantage of speed. He'd have to use it to keep away from his brother's left, for the man had a wicked reach.

Terrance grinned and stood, but before they could square off, Molly had hold of Theo's arm, dragging it down, forcing him to glance at her.

When he'd ridden into the yard, he'd only seen her tousled red hair and his brother's back—fury blurred the rest into a haze. He'd been off his horse in a flash and dragging Terrance off Molly.

Anger with his brother still boiled in him, but the pain in his hand from the blow he'd stuck had shocked him from that haze. Now he glanced at Molly, at her hair, damp and curling, and at how her gown clung to her form, transparent and showing her breasts and waist and curving legs.

His scowl deepened and he wanted to hit Terrance again—blazes, but what was his brother doing, poaching on another man's turf!

"Please, stop this," Molly begged.

He almost shook her off. Instead, he glared at his brother. Terrance was trying to strip off his riding coat, cursing at its tight fit, and had managed to get the shoulders down. It tempted Theo to take a crack at him now. Not very sporting, but how satisfying to knock him down again.

"Oh, for..." he started to say. He glanced at Molly again and at the grooms gathering in the yard—one of them had hold of his horse—and he straightened. "You'd best come inside," he said, speaking both to Molly and Terrance.

"Damn if I will!" Terrance said, still struggling with his coat. "You there, give a hand," he told a groom. The fellow grabbed hold of the sleeves and dragged, stripping the jacket off.

Terrance squared off at once against his brother. "Come on now—let's see if your luck holds."

Irritation and anger with his brother welled in Theo—years of it, he realized. Where had Terrance ever been when he'd wanted him around? Theo had followed after him, copied him, tried to be him, in fact. And all it'd ever gotten him was—nothing. Eyes narrowing, Theo realized that he had never wanted anything so much as to wipe the smirk from his brother's face.

He wanted to pound some sense into the bounder, damn it.

Taking Molly's hands, he put her away from him. He shrugged out of his own loose-fit coat and handed it to her. "Won't be but a minute."

Molly glanced from Theo to his brother. Terrance looked even larger without his coat on. His shirt sleeves billowed, fluttering in the breeze. Rain spattered down on all of them, and she wished the clouds would loosen a torrent that might stop this. But the drops continued in splatters.

She looked again at Theo, now in his shirtsleeves. He had his fists up and looked ready to move light on the balls of his feet. But she could not allow this. Not a fight of brother against brother.