Thea's Marquis (20 page)

“You know what this is, Thea?”

“Please, let us go.” She scanned the square fearfully and hurried to the curricle. As Peter scrambled up behind and Rod set the horses in motion, she broke the seal and read the contents. “I shall
not
give it to Penny,” she said, her face pale.

“Her uncle?”

“Another threatening demand for money, this time with instructions on where to deliver it.” She tore it in half, and in half again.

“Another! Why have you told me nothing of this?”

“What could you have done? You were at Hazlemere when the first was thrown to me in Lord Stewart’s carriage, in the street. It had no names, no direction. When nothing happened I hoped it was a mistake.”

“Nonetheless, I wish you had told me.” He was being unreasonable, he knew—dissatisfied when she came to him for help, affronted when she did not. “Never mind, Vaughn will hardly pursue his niece into Hertfordshire, so forget his bluster. I wager it is no more than that.”

He set himself to amuse her, and before long was rewarded with the return of colour to her cheeks and a smile to her sensitive mouth. The shadow in her eyes remained.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Prinny has left off his stays,” announced Mr. Glubb-ffoulkes. His plate laden with a second helping of nearly everything from the luncheon buffet, he lowered himself creakily to his seat opposite Thea. “Says he don’t have the heart to bother since Charlotte died. A frightful sight, he is, with his belly down to his knees.”

Seated beside him, Meg giggled. Will, on her other side, groaned. “Uncle, not at table, if you please!”

“Not to worry, my boy, I’ve no intention of giving up my corsets. Daresay puss here wouldn’t care for it.” He beamed at Meg.

“Pray, sir, keep them on. I think the Cumberland corset a wonderful invention.”

“You’re a good girl. Tell you what, since you don’t favour my suit, you ought to have a go at one of the royal dukes. They are all casting off their mistresses and running after German princesses, the jobbernowls, hoping to beget an heir. Don’t know what they’re missing at home.”

“Uncle, if you dare bring Miss Megan to the attention of any of those reprobates...”

“Why, perhaps Miss Meg has a fancy to be Queen,” protested the old court-card with a twinkling glance at Thea.

Will’s reaction confirmed what Thea had already guessed. Only his serious interest in Meg explained the house party, with the guests all friends of the Kilmores. Nor had she missed the fact that he had omitted all his rivals from his list, save Mr. Glubb-ffoulkes, who scarcely counted. Meg had told her she favoured Will, though no one could have guessed from her demeanour that she liked him any better than the rest of her court.

Since Thea dared not hope for any closer connection with Roderick, she thought wistfully that marriage between her sister and his cousin would be some consolation.

* * * *

As the days passed, the pleasures of Christmas chased Mr. Vaughn’s threats from Thea’s mind. She joined in gathering evergreens, holly and mistletoe to garland the house. She helped choose a yule-log and cheered on the gentlemen as they dragged it to the house. Carols in the little church in the village of Goff’s Oak; roast goose, mince pies, and flaming plum pudding; servants, tenants, and tradesmen crowding in with cheerful faces for their Christmas boxes on Boxing Day; excursions to Hatfield House and Waltham Abbey: Will was determined to entertain his guests in fine style.

Between the various amusements, Thea enjoyed her return to the peace of the countryside. The company was small enough, and well enough known to her, to give her no cause for uneasiness. Lord Stewart and Roderick were flatteringly attentive, though Meg said something that suggested Will had asked the marquis to keep her chaperon-sister occupied.

Expecting no better, Thea settled for the joy of riding with him through snowy woods and fields, sitting beside him at the informal meals, playing backgammon with him in the evenings. Though Lord Stewart usually tagged along as an unwanted third, she was happy, so she treated him kindly.

Will had planned a ball on New Year’s Eve, the day before the house party was to break up. Thea was looking forward to it until she realized he had invited dozens of friends and neighbours. Somehow the brief absence from the haunts of the ton had renewed her apprehension at the thought of meeting strangers, her fear of doing or saying something wrong. Even her new ball gown, a dark wine red with white lace trimmings and flounces, seemed far too dashing.

As guests began to arrive, she hid behind a bank of red-berried holly and sweet-smelling pine branches in the ball room. The musicians from the village were already tuning up when Rod, a glass in his hand, found her lurking there.

“I know I shall make a mull of it,” she wailed in despair. “I shall ruin everything for Meg.”

“Nonsense.” He sat down beside her, his sheer size a protective bulwark. “Here, drink this champagne and you will feel much better.”

“Do you think I ought? I am not much used to wine.”

“I am certain you ought. You must have heard the terms Dutch courage and pot-valiant.”

“Not spoken with approbation, however!”

He smiled. “One glass can do no harm. Why do you say you might ruin everything for Meg?”

“Because I suspect Mr. DeVine has gathered his friends and neighbours with the hope of announcing his betrothal. He has been acting in a positively proprietorial way towards Meg these past few days. Do you not think it possible?”

“In confidence, more than possible. Will told me he has received permission from your brother to pay his addresses.”

“That is splendid!” Raising the glass in a silent toast, she sipped the champagne. Bubbles tickled her nose as the wine slid down her throat like silk. “So you see, I do not want to spoil the evening for Meg by making a
faux pas.”

“My dear girl, why the deuce should you make a
faux pas?
You have been consorting with the beau monde for weeks now without a slip of the tongue, let alone any unacceptable conduct.”

“But there are so many people here I do not know.”

“None are in the least likely to threaten you with bodily harm, as did Vaughn, and you managed to stand up to him most valiantly.”

The comparison struck her. “And I was net even pot-valiant, since for breakfast I drank nothing stronger than tea.”

“I should hope not!”

“But I was terrified.”

“Whereas now you are merely bashful.” He gently removed the empty glass from her fingers, stood up, and offered his arm. “May I beg the honour and the pleasure of the first cotillion, ma’am? I have a wish to be seen standing up with the most elegant female in the room.”

She rose and laid her hand on his arm. “Do you like my gown?” she asked shyly.

“It is superb.”

“Penny chose the colour, and it is so unusual I was not sure....”

“Lady Kilmore has an unerring eye, but even she could not create such a dazzling effect were beauty not there to be adorned.”

The champagne bubbles sang in Thea’s head. “That is the nicest compliment I have ever received,” she said. She was sorely tempted to throw her arms about his neck and cry aloud,
“I love you,”
but that would cause just the sort of scene she dreaded. Already they were surrounded by couples taking their places in the sets for the cotillion.

The familiar steps of the dance further raised her confidence. Glancing about, she saw Meg and Will in a nearby set, laughing with each other. Meg’s eyes sparkled as brightly as the silver stars embroidered on her white net overdress.

Penny and Jason stood under the archway to the supper-room. Penny’s figure was visibly thickening now, but Jason’s arm was about what was left of her waist and he had eyes for no one else. As Thea watched, he pointed at a bunch of mistletoe hanging from the arch above them, and when Penny looked up, he kissed her.

“A pleasing sight,” said Roderick, following Thea’s gaze. “I trust they are grateful for your part in their
rapprochement.
”

“Mine? All I did was explain their misunderstanding to Jason.” She blushed as she recalled ordering her brother to his wife’s bed.

Roderick regarded her quizzically, but to her relief the dance came to an end with a final flourish from flute and fiddle. Instead of asking the cause of her blush, which she knew him to be quite capable of doing, he requested the supper dance.

Lord Stewart was waiting for her as they strolled to the side of the room. “I had hoped to have the first dance with you, Miss Kilmore,” he said, slightly disgruntled. “I looked for you but could not find you.” He stared suspiciously at the marquis.

Thea hated to see him in the mopes. Gladly granting his request for the next country dance, she did her best to cheer him up while they waited for it to begin. He soon regained his spirits and partnered her with his usual agreeable manners.

Will DeVine, her next partner, congratulated her with a grin. “You charmed Stewart out of the sullens very neatly.” Observing her surprise, he hastily retracted his comment. “Dash it, I beg your pardon. That sounds calculating, and I know you and your sister to be the least calculating of females. I’ve never met a girl as unaffected as Meg...Miss Megan,” he confided, smiling fondly at his beloved, a few places down the set.

By the time the supper waltz came round, Thea had stood up with Jason, Mr. Pritchard, two local gentlemen who had begged Will for introductions, and a second time with Lord Stewart. She had not sat out a single dance, and enjoyed even those with the two strangers.

The only thing to mar her pleasure was that Roderick had also stood up for every set, with the prettiest ladies in the room, it seemed to Thea. Knowing he had been as polite, as amiable, as charming to each as he was to her, she thanked heaven that she had resisted the temptation to reveal her love.

Banishing her chagrin with an effort, she smiled up at him as he led her onto the floor. He was quite the handsomest man present, and no one else knew that he had only requested a second dance out of kindness.

They did not talk as they whirled about the room. Light as a bubble, she swayed and swirled to his lead, the floor intangible beneath her satin slippers. Aware only of his blue eyes, the strength of his arm at her waist, she was bewildered when the music stopped.

“Dizzy?” he asked with the sympathetic amusement that always heartened her. “Come and eat something, and you will soon feel more the thing.”

Together they joined the crowd heading for the supper-room. Still in her bubble, Thea saw Meg and Will ahead of them, surrounded by gentlemen begging to share their table. As the pair reached the archway. Will stopped and tenderly kissed Meg’s cheek.

The young fellows around them applauded. “Mistletoe!” “A kiss!” “Give us a kiss, Miss Megan,” they cried. And Meg, laughing, offered her cheek to one and then another, while Will stood by, his face like a thundercloud.

****

“I was only having fun,” Meg wept, still trying the next morning to explain how she had come to deeply offend her suitor. “I did not mean anything by it. I love him! How was I to guess he would be so dreadfully angry?”

Her mother rocked her. “You hurt him, dearest. Not that he did not have a right to be angry, for your behaviour was shocking.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mama. What shall I do? I don’t want to marry anyone but Will.”

“Don’t despair, Meg,” Thea advised. Perched on the end of the bed, she regarded her sister’s tear-blotched face with deep sympathy. She perfectly understood how a moment’s lack of forethought could lead to disgrace. “Mr. DeVine is—”

A tap on the door interrupted her. Meg’s abigail came in, bearing a tray with a pot of tea and three cups. “There you are, my lady. There’s nothing like a cup of tea. Oh, my poor Miss Megan!” She seemed about to burst into tears in turn, but pulled herself together. “Miss Thea, Lord Stewart’s asking after you. He’s in the library if you can spare him a minute.”

Thea had a sinking feeling she knew what the viscount wanted.

“Go along, dear,” said her mother. “I daresay Meg will sleep for a while when she has drunk her tea. She had little enough rest last night and she has the journey home to face this afternoon.”

Reluctantly Thea left her sister’s chamber and started down the stairs. Before she was halfway down, Will DeVine appeared in the hall below her. He was almost as wan as Meg, but he summoned up a smile that was a shadow of his usual jaunty grin.

“Miss Kilmore, may I have the pleasure of driving you back to Town this afternoon?”

Thea hesitated. He was asking her so that Meg could not possibly expect him to take her up in his curricle. On the other hand, he was willing to drive one of her family, which was surely a hopeful sign. He could have offered the place to Jane Lewin, or even his Aunt Anne or Uncle Reggie, if he wished to cut his connection with the Kilmores. Perhaps she might venture to speak on Meg’s behalf.

“Thank you, sir, I shall look forward to it.”

He bowed and moved aside, and she continued on to the library.

Lord Stewart stood at a window, gazing out at the melting snow in the garden. He jumped visibly when Thea spoke his name.

“My dear Miss Kilmore.” Turning, he hurried towards her. “How good of you to grant me a few minutes when I know you wish to be soothing your sister’s sorrows. I would not have requested a meeting but that I am going home for a few weeks, not back to London. It is my dearest wish that you—and your family, of course—will soon join me there to meet my children.”

“To meet your children?” Thea repeated stupidly.

“I am saying this very badly. Believe me, it is no easier to propose a second time than it was the first! Miss Kilmore, your gentleness, your modesty, and especially the kind way you look after your young sister’s welfare have convinced me that I cannot hope to find a better mother for my poor orphans. Nor am I insensible of your charm and beauty. I most sincerely offer you my hand and my heart.”

Though Thea had been half expecting an offer of marriage, her knees felt weak. She sank onto a chair and endeavoured to collect her thoughts. The viscount was a pleasant, personable man. His devotion to his children—she still was not sure how many he had—bore out her impression of his kindly nature. However, if she wed him, she might well find herself playing second fiddle. Was it worth it, to have a home and family of her own?