Lady Beware (26 page)

“A pond remains a pond when dry. A Cave remains a Cave. A goddess remains a higher being.” But he pulled her against him and kissed her as he had the first time, but with no trace of resistance from her. But then, too soon, he set her away from him, his hands still on her shoulders. “There is a magic between us, my Thea—”

“Yes.”

“—but the seeds of our destruction, too.”

“You're a warrior, Darien. Aren't you willing to fight for us?”

“I fight too much and too well. Isn't that the point?”

“It doesn't matter!” And it didn't. Everything was suddenly clear. “I don't mean I don't care about it, but I know now. I'd rather live with the warrior than without you. Does that make sense?”

“Too much. I can't permit—”

She stepped back out of his hold. “Why do you get to say all the time? I have a new agreement for you.”

He turned watchful, and she could see him building defenses. “What?”

“We leave for Somerset tomorrow,” she said. “We probably won't be back in London until autumn. The first part of the agreement is this. Neither of us shall commit to another before then.”

“And the second part?”

“When we meet again, we discuss the situation.”

“
Discuss.
We're on the brink of explosion, here in a public park—”

“In the trees,” she countered.

“Even so. And in four or more months you expect us to talk?”

“Perhaps by then we'll see the folly of our excitement.”

“And if we don't?” he asked softly.

Thea looked down, almost unable to say it. But then she met his eyes. “Then we marry. Are we agreed?”

He considered her, lips tight. “I assume that by then you'll have come to your senses, so very well, if you wish.”

It was ungracious, but Thea had to suppress a smile as they walked back to her house. It wasn't perfect, but she wasn't sure what perfect was. It was a promise, however. And they kept their promises.

T
he Yeovils left Town, and Darien continued his busy social activities without them. He couldn't resist a tiny flame of hope. He knew he wasn't the right husband for Thea Debenham, and that even if she persisted in her madness, he'd have to stop her from ruining her life. But a small part of him clung to a belief that he could restore his family's reputation beyond tolerable to honorable, and thus be worthy of her.

He was shocked by how badly he missed her. Even when they hadn't met for days, he'd known she was nearby—that he might encounter her. That if he needed to, he could seek her out. Now she was completely, thoroughly absent.

At least Foxstall was, too. He'd finished his duties and had to return north. He'd dropped by to complain about it. “Just as I was making headway with Miss Debenham, too.”

Darien would stop that union if he thought it had any chance of happening, but he didn't see the need.

“With some women, I'd think absence would do the trick, but not with her,” Foxstall complained. “A true butterfly.”

“I don't know why you bother.”

“Fifteen thousand and her family's solid gold influence! Don't know how you let the other one slip through your fingers. Especially after getting her to that masquerade.”

“It was Lady Thea's idea to attend.”

“I hope you made good use of it.”

Was there something malicious in Foxstall's tone? No one seemed to suspect what had happened.

Darien had visited Lady Harroving the day after the masquerade, ostensibly to apologize for the fight on her premises, but in fact to find out what was being said about the linen room. Nothing, as best he could tell, though he'd learned his opponent in the fight had been the Earl of Glenmorgan. Glenmorgan was known for his belligerance, and he had apparently tried to send a challenge but had been dissuaded by his friends.

“Her family's opposition might do the trick, I suppose,” Foxstall said. “She's willful enough to insist on her way. So you might find me nestled in the bosom of the Debenham family yet. Nice juicy sinecures. Seat in Parliament. House in the best part of Town.”

Over my dead body.

“Won't going back to Lancashire hamper you?” Darien said, neutrally.

“I'm a dab hand with letters. Wish me well, old friend.”

“Bon voyage,” Darien said,
and good riddance
.

But in Foxstall's absence, Maddy Debenham decided to amuse herself with Darien. He was grateful to be busy.

The fight with Glenmorgan had done his reputation no good. Some men admired the directness of his action, but many thought it uncouth. If there was affront between gentlemen, a properly organized duel was the appropriate action, not a brawl in the kitchens. Therefore, he had to work even harder to make up lost ground.

Morning, noon, and night he was with one or more Rogues—at coffeehouses, scientific meetings, boxing parlors, and gaming parties. When female influence was required, he had the company of beautiful Laura Ball, quiet Cressida St. Raven, spirited Clarissa Hawkinville, and even Middlethorpe's alarmingly trenchant aunt, Arabella Hurstman.

On seeing the plain-faced, plain-dressed woman he'd silently doubted her usefulness, but a walk with her through the park at a fashionable hour had been like a social tonic. Under her firm look, the still reluctant smiled at him for the first time. With the more stubborn, she marched him straight up to them and ordered them to support the innocent victim of spite and malice. Not quite in those terms, but in effect, and absolutely no one denied her.

They were probably as terrified of her umbrella as he was. It went everywhere with her and had a sharp point.

He liked her. He did not like the cool, distant Lady Cawle, but gathered that her deigning to speak to him for a few moments was a seal of approval.

He'd even been received by royalty. Various heavy levers had been brought to bear, and two weeks after the Yeovils left Town, he'd been summoned to Carlton House for a private audience with the Prince Regent. His principal sponsor was the regent's brother, the Duke of York, commander in chief of the army, who'd been genuinely warm.

The regent seemed merely forbearing. Darien had appreciated the honor and what it would mean in his campaign, but his self-control had been stretched. In his extreme girth and fashion, the regent had a distinct look of an older Pup. He regretted missing the now mythic encounter.

Even art was recruited. Luck Armiger had not run off with the money, but worked hard on his commission. His oil sketch had proved his skill, for he'd turned the look of a statue into one of action, with horse and rider raring for battle. Darien had paid for the complete picture. Maria had decreed that when it was finished it would go on display in a gallery, a pictorial representation of a glorious Cave.

Darien thought the idea ridiculous, but anything for the cause.

In the midst of all this, Pup had married his Alice, enjoyed the enormous wedding breakfast he'd arranged himself, and rolled off to honeymoon at Lord Arden's cottage orneé in the country. Darien actually missed him. The gloom of Cave House lowered on him again and the ghosts returned.

But apart from that, all was well. Amazingly so.

Darien wasn't sure, therefore, why he was skulking in his study on a sunny morning, papers untended all around him, drinking too much brandy. The silver feather might be a clue.

He picked it up and twirled it. He'd found it clinging to the braid of the cavalier costume. It was weakness to keep it, but it was all he had of her, and all he would have for many months, perhaps even forever.

There was one solid problem. He hadn't heard from Frank in over a month, which concerned him, especially as inquiries at the Admiralty turned up no particular campaigns he could be involved with. Short of sailing to Gibraltar himself, however, there was little he could do.

He put aside brandy and turned his attention to the books and paper before him. He'd shelved his attempt to understand the inventories in order to prepare to take his seat in Parliament. Before doing so, he wanted some understanding of the myriad subjects he'd be voting on. Having Greek and Latin beaten into him at Harrow had been less work, but it was part of his struggle for acceptance, his striving to be worthy of Thea. He'd give it his all.

 

Thea didn't hear from Maddy for weeks, but then a letter arrived. She took it onto the terrace to read in sight of the calming lake and swans, but expected only salacious gossip. Instead, it was a wild rant.

True, after three weeks at Long Chart, Dare had been completely recovered and restless, and had decided to return to London. Thea couldn't argue with his reason. Canem Cave's problems were in some part his responsibility and he must do what he could to help. The duke had already returned to continue parliamentary work. Thea could have gone, too, but she'd said she preferred the country and the duchess had approved.

It had been possibly the greatest test of willpower she'd ever faced. Not because of Dare—now that he was completely recovered, she found the ties loosed. She still loved him, but he had his own life to live and he clearly missed Mara like a severed limb. The daily letters they wrote back and forth had become a loving joke. Her temptation came all from Darien.

Now she was rewarded a little for her willpower. In London, Maddy would constantly try to entangle her in deceptions. It had happened before. She thanked heaven to be out of that, but the sting in the tail of her cousin's letter hurt.

Thea glared at carefree swans, trying not to think of Leda.

She managed to resist the urge to race to London and fend off danger. He'd promised and she'd promised. She had to wait and see where their feelings led.

 

Darien returned home from a session at Jackson's to find a message asking him to visit Nicholas Delaney. In all the Rogues' support, he'd seen little of Delaney. He gathered he didn't much care for the ton's amusements, but he suspected the man was staying out of his way because he thought Darien found him particularly irritating.

That could be true. He'd been particularly irritating at Harrow.

It hadn't been anything he'd done. He'd simply been relaxed and confident in a way no fourteen-year-old boy ever should be. It hadn't been the confidence of an Arden, certain of his wealth and future power, or a Ball, bulwarked by brilliance. He'd simply been happy to be himself, and he hadn't changed. Darien had accepted help and the responsibilities that came with that, however, so he obeyed the summons.

He'd not visited Delaney's home before. He wasn't surprised to find it much like his own architecturally, as most London houses were, but inside the atmosphere was the extreme opposite to Cave House. Light, life, but a kind of peaceful harmony.

Delaney greeted him warmly and took him to an extremely well-stocked library. So well stocked, books were piled on the floor. One thing the house wasn't was tidy.

“Sorry about this,” Delaney said. “The longer we stay here, the more books I buy. Eleanor prays nightly that we can leave. I'm trying to decide which to take to Red Oaks and which to leave here.” He saved one from sliding off the corner of the table, glanced at the spine, then handed it over. “You may like that.
The Century of Inventions
.”

“Which century?” Darien asked, simply for something to say. Delaney should have been a fusty scholar, but he glowed with vigor.

“As in one hundred. A frustrating number of forgotten devices. Dare's here. He'd like to speak to you.”

It took Darien a heartbeat to catch up, and another to think of a response. “He thinks the dog will bite?”

Delaney's eyes sharpened at the choice of words. “He probably thinks he deserves it.”

“Good God, am I supposed to give him absolution?”

“I told him he should simply call on you, but he doesn't want to force a meeting if you don't want it.”

For some reason, it mattered that Dare Debenham was Thea's brother, but Darien couldn't decide in what way. He didn't want to talk to the man until he knew, but this was ridiculous enough as it was.

“I have no objection,” he said.

“Then I'll tell him. He's talking to Eleanor, but I'm sure Francis will want to feed again—he might as well be a leech at the moment—so she'll appreciate rescue.”

He left. Darien opened the book in his hands and puzzled over a strange diagram. When the door opened, he took his time about closing the book, putting it down, and turning.

Dare Debenham looked very well indeed. He'd been physically fit when Darien had seen him at the ball, but freedom from opium had completed him.

“Will a long-overdue apology embarrass you?” Debenham asked.

“Probably. Do you need to make it?”

Debenham smiled. “A good question. Yes, I think so. Not for the words. If I hadn't come up with
cave canem
, someone else would have soon enough. But for hardly noticing the results and not caring at all. I would wish that undone, which is what an apology is about, isn't it?”

“I suppose so. But I'm hardly in a position to cast stones, am I? I made everyone as miserable as I was able, and maimed poor Trigwell. I did write to him and apologize a few years back. He was gracious, but then he is in Holy Orders.”

“Is he? I suppose he was the type.”

An awkward silence threatened.

“Your family's been very good to me,” Darien said. “I think any debt has been paid.”

“My debt, paid by others.” But then Debenham said, “Did you really see me fall?”

Darien stared at him. “You think I lied?”

Debenham colored. “Apology again. I just found myself thinking. Opium does strange things to the mind.”

“If I hadn't witnessed it I might have lied. If that makes sense.”

“I follow it. Thea said you've gone through all this in your brother's cause. Is it won?”