Lady Beware (25 page)

Talk of marriage had reminded him of Frank, however. Even with the fight, the campaign had gone pretty well. Some of Viscount Darien's social activities had been reported in the newspapers and those accounts would make their way to Gibraltar. Darien wrote to his brother, telling him to keep an eye on the wind and be prepared to approach Admiral Dynnevor again at the right moment.

T
hea had almost completed her commissions when she met Maddy in Mrs. Curry's Lace Emporium.

“Were you really involved in a fight in the servants' quarters of the Harroving House?” Maddy demanded.

“Hush!” Thea said, looking around. Quietly, she added, “It wasn't as that sounds.”

“Pity. You were dressed for war so I hoped you'd whacked someone. Though I must say that costume looked uncomfortable.”

“It was. It gave me a headache, which is why I was down there.”

“Why? Oh, do let's go to the pastry shop next door. I'm quite fagged with searching for bugle trimming.”

Thea still had a few items to buy, but giving in for a little while would be easier in the end. She gave the list to Harriet and the footman and asked them to try.

When she and Maddy sat to tea and cakes, Thea realized she truly was hungry. She'd picked at her breakfast. As she ate, she told her story.

“I hear Darien almost killed that man,” Maddy said. “How exciting.”

“How horrible, you mean—”

“But never say you missed Prinny and Prinny!”

Thea recognized that Maddy had been bursting with this news all along. “What do you mean?”

“You did!” Maddy took a maid of honor and bit into it. Before she'd fully cleared her mouth, she related a hair-raising encounter between the real regent and someone dressed as him.

Thea covered her mouth in horror, but she was laughing, too. “No!”

“Yes!”

“So who was it? I hope for his sake he's never identified.”

“I don't know. I'm sure I've never met him. I think Fox might know, but he won't say.”

“He was there, too?”

“Oh, yes. Mama doesn't like him, so I had to go with Staverton, but Fox and I had arranged to meet.”

“You should listen to Aunt Margaret. He's an undesirable man.”

“He's very desirable,” Maddy said, smirking and licking crumbs from her lip. “And besides, you can't preach. You were there with Darien.”

Thea sighed. “Yes, I know.”

“So, are you going to marry him?”

Thea's face flamed. She was grateful outrage might explain it. “No, of course not!”

“Silly you. He looked delicious in all that satin and lace.”

“I doubt I'll even see him again. We're leaving for Long Chart on Monday.”

“No! Poor you. Why?”

“To be there when Dare arrives. He's already on the way.”

“Dare doesn't need you all to wipe his brow and feed him pap.”

“Mama and Papa are going, so I can hardly stay here.”

“Come and live with us. We'll have lots of fun.”

Maddy, day in and day out? Thea couldn't bear it. “I want to go, Maddy. Truly.”

“Oh, well. If you're abandoning the Vile Viscount, perhaps I'll play with him. Mother might even permit it now. You've managed to move him from the outer wastes into the fringes of acceptability, and he does have the title. Mother is desperate for me to marry a title. I do prefer a bigger man, of course, but I suppose in bed it doesn't matter too much….”

Tea and cakes threatened to rise from Thea's stomach. She rose. “I have to finish the shopping and organize my packing, Maddy. If I don't see you before I leave, I'll write.”

 

Once home, Thea plunged into packing as if that would remove her from Town and temptation the sooner. Maddy's words had been disgusting, but they'd ignited pure, searing jealousy. She'd recover once she was away. She had to.

Harriet began to mutter, and Thea realized that she never packed her own clothes. She was probably doing it all wrong. She went off to the piano, but for once that didn't soothe her nerves, especially as she kept hitting wrong notes.

She attended a concert that evening, but Darien wasn't there. Thea berated herself for noticing. On Sunday she and her parents attended St. George's again, but Darien wasn't there, either. Was he avoiding her?

By afternoon, Thea's willpower broke. She sought her mother.

“I was wondering…”

“Yes, dear?” The duchess looked up from a list of some sort.

“As we're leaving tomorrow, shouldn't we try to make one last show of support for Darien?”

“It's Sunday, dear.”

“What about a walk in the park?”

“That would be possible, but there's so much to do…. Oh, you mean just you. To the park? Perfectly respectable. How kind of you to think of it, dear. I think the poor man feels he let you down. He wrote a note to me to apologize.”

For what in particular?
Thea wondered, blushing. “It wasn't his fault.”

“But you felt he had reacted too strongly.”

“I was probably overwrought.”

“I do think so, dear, so you should put his mind at ease. I'll write a note asking if he's free.”

Thea returned to her room in turmoil. She had permission, but now she wasn't sure she should meet him again. In fact, she knew she should resist temptation. But once her family left Town, she probably wouldn't return until late in the year. Anything could happen by then. Just one more meeting wouldn't hurt. And perhaps they could part on better terms.

More likely, he'd make an excuse. He was clearly avoiding her.

But he replied to say he would call at three. Thea flew to choose the perfect outfit, but of course most of her favorites were already packed. In the end she picked a dusky pink dress and spencer from last year. It had been a favorite, and Darien wouldn't know it had been worn many times.

Just a walk in nearby St. James's Park, she thought, adjusting the tilt of a satin beret trimmed with flowers. A chance to reassure him that she wasn't upset, and make a gracious farewell.

But as soon as he entered the reception room where she waited, her heart stampeded and she couldn't stop looking at him. His lean face, his dark eyes, his hands. Those hands…

He seemed to search her appearance, too. “Good day, Lady Thea. I hope you are recovered?”

She couldn't bear the yards between them, but felt rooted, unable to bridge them.

“Yes, thank you. Busy, of course. Because we leave Town tomorrow.”

“I heard.”

Their eyes locked, but nothing of their deeper thoughts could be spoken. For the sake of servants beyond the open door. For the sake of sanity. The desire between them was like a power in the air, but so was the impossibility of any future together.

There was one thing she had to say. “I don't hold you responsible, Darien. For anything.”

“Thank you. But my own assessment is harsher.” He gestured toward the door. With a suppressed sigh, she walked past him and out of the room.

They were walking down the street in silence, which was intolerable. “I hope you won't miss my family's support,” she said.

“I believe I can manage. With the help of the Rogues.”

His tone was as unreadable as an ancient manuscript. “You don't mind?”

“Anything for the cause.”

She suppressed another sigh. “Have you heard from your brother?”

“No. But then, he could be at sea chasing Barbary pirates or some such.”

Why had she suggested this? They couldn't even converse. “How long do you intend to stay in Town?” she asked.

“As long as I can work toward my purpose here.”

“Parliament may sit for a long time….”

They continued in this horrible manner until they entered St. James's Park. Then, as if something cracked, he said, “I'm sorry, Thea. I never meant to hurt you, but I warned you from the start.”

“You didn't exactly hurt—”

“Don't lie.” It was said gently. “Your feelings show.”

At least they were talking. Her smile was wobbly, but genuine. “Are you saying I'm out of looks, sir?”

“Another thing a gentleman never says to a lady? You know by now I'm not that sort of gentleman.”

She had her hands clasped in front, and they went tight on each other. “I like the sort of gentleman you are.”

Like. So tame a word.

“I like the sort of lady you are, Thea. The sort who feels guilty over what we did.”

“I don't feel guilty. I don't. To do it again, to plan it, would be wrong, but I can't regret what we did.”

“We should walk,” he said, touching her arm gently.

He was right, so she obeyed, strolling along the tree-lined path as if only out to take the air.

“Guilt and the fear of guilt can be protective,” he said.

“You
want
me to feel guilty?”

“I want you safe, Thea. From physical harm, from all discomfort. From me.”

Thea grabbed on to the simplest safety. “Association with you isn't dangerous. At the masquerade, that could have happened to anyone. It had nothing to do with who you are.”

“The way I handled it did.”

“You rescued me.”

“You rescued yourself. I punished the wrongdoer. You were disgusted.”

“I was
shocked
,” she protested. “I've recovered.”

“You no longer think what I did bloody and vile?”

“You are an infuriating man,” she said balefully, stopping to glare at him. “Very well, why did you do it? Why carry on like that?”

“Because I was angry and wanted to hurt him.”

Take it or leave it,
his flat tone said.
This is who I am.

And his intention was that she leave it.

She turned and marched on, prattling about preparations for the journey. About which gown to wear on the first day of the journey. About which bonnets were more suitable for country wear and which best left in town. About slippers, sandals, and half boots. About leather gloves and lace mittens.

It was the sort of tedium she'd never inflict on anyone, but he deserved every boring moment of it. She continued it for a full circuit of the park, only glancing at him now and then. He seemed attentive. She was sure he was thinking about horses, or weapons, or something, so she stopped again to confront him. “Tell me what you're thinking. Now.”

“That you would be a very expensive wife.”

“Infuriating!”

He laughed. “Not really, Thea, though you would be.”

“I know how to be frugal,” she protested.

“About as well as you know how to make bread.”

“You're not poor,” she pointed out, wondering frantically if they really were talking about marriage. Their marriage.

“No, but a season of your gowns might make me so. Thea, my land needs money ploughed back into it, for many years. There'll be little for fripperies. And in truth, I'm not much interested in them.”

“Horses?” she challenged, and he smiled. It was a true smile, without restraint.

“Are never fripperies,” he said. “I'll want a few good ones, yes, but not like St. Raven, who has dozens and buys a new one on a whim.”

“He's a duke.”

“And you're a duke's daughter.”

“I'm tempted to marry you simply to prove that I wouldn't drive you into debtor's prison,” she said.

It was so very dangerous to dance around the subject like this, but what if he was thinking of marriage? Might she not think of it, too?

“But what if you did send me to the Fleet? You'd doubtless abandon me to my fate.”

“No, I'd live there with you and hang out a basket to beg pennies from my rich friends.”

“You're not taking this seriously, Thea, but you should.”

She stopped as if to look at the water in the reservoir and the birds swimming there. “You don't think very highly of me, do you?”

“You are my goddess, but—”

She turned on him. “If you say goddesses lie around in idleness, demanding to be worshipped, I shall hit you.”

“You and your mother certainly don't, but you have your sphere and I have mine. I could not bear to drag you down.”

“Aren't gods and goddesses always invading lower spheres?” she challenged.

“You've been reading naughty books again.”

“The classics aren't naughty books.”

“Oh, but they frequently are. Consider the swans,” he said, “and think of Leda.”

“Or think of feathers,” she murmured.

“Broken feathers,” he reminded her.

She turned to walk on into the trees that overhung a long dip in the ground. “Do you know this spot? It's still called Rosamund's Pond, even though the pond was filled in long since. It proved too popular for suicides.”