A Compromised Lady (10 page)

‘Chess? In here? Do you…do you think that’s wise?’ Suddenly self-conscious, she said, ‘If Lady Arnsworth has some idea…that is, that we…that we—’

She broke off and Richard had to suppress a grin.

‘That we might make a match of it?’ he suggested helpfully. ‘So she’s spoken to you about it, has she?’

She flushed. ‘She didn’t precisely say anything to me. Only…’

Richard laughed. ‘Didn’t she? You escaped lightly. She said a great deal to me. Very precisely and in detail. You must know that Almeria has been trying to marry me off to the nearest available fortune for the past ten years!’

Something flickered in her face. Pain? This was not the moment to suggest to her that maybe they should give some thought to Almeria’s matchmaking. Not when she had just stopped calling him sir with every second breath. Instead, he said gently, ‘Thea, we need not consider it. You must know that I would never court any woman for her fortune, let alone you. We can still be friends, can we not? Despite Almeria’s meddling?’

For a moment Thea hesitated. Friends…it would be safer not…Yet, unbidden, some long-buried, unrecognisable sensation unfurled within her. She nodded. ‘Friends. Yes.’

He smiled. ‘Good. Then leave Miss Winslow in the drawing room where she belongs.’ He rose, stepped carefully over the mess of ink and broken glass and china and went over to a large, old-fashioned chest under the window. ‘Now, let’s see…’

Leave Miss Winslow in the drawing room…

‘What do you mean?’

He shot her a glance. ‘Miss Winslow is all very well for the rest of the world. But I’ve always been quite fond of Thea.’

He knelt down with a muttered curse and pulled out the bottom drawer. ‘Ah hah! Here we are.’

Despite her confusion, Thea felt the unaccustomed smile curving her lips, warming her heart. He had found the old chess set he had taught her to play with. And there in the corner, half-hidden behind a fire screen, was the little chess table.

That sensation inside her stirred again, and this time she recognised it with shock. It was happiness. She had been so utterly determined to enjoy herself, even if she had to pretend, and here happiness had been quietly waiting within to be let out. Along with the Thea he said he was fond of? Was she waiting to escape too?

Automatically the old words of challenge rose to her lips. ‘No quarter? No chivalry?’

His answering smile flashed, lighting the dark brown eyes. ‘To the death!’

Together they set out the pieces, the memories of all the times they had done this stretching back and forth between them.

‘You were about five when I taught you how to do this,’ said Richard.

She looked up, an answering smile in her eyes. ‘You must have thought I was the most frightful little pest.’

‘I did. And I was furious with Almeria. I’d been enjoying my games with Myles. He kept having to rush off to do his job, so I had plenty of time to contemplate my moves. Try to work out what he would do next. And, of course, he could actually play. A distinct advantage.’

‘Rather than having to teach me?’

He thought back, pushing out a pawn. ‘You learnt fast enough. Once you found your voice and started asking questions.’

‘I was terrified your leg would fall off,’ confessed Thea.

‘What!’ A pawn went flying as he spluttered with laughter.

She went scarlet. ‘Well, from what Lady Arnsworth told Mama, I thought your leg had been broken off and stuck back on. And my nurse was always saying I could talk the hind leg off a donkey, so I thought if it fell off again while I was there everyone would blame me!’ She glared at him, as though daring him to laugh.

Laughter shook him anyway, as he righted the fallen pawn. Amazing how one could laugh at a terror almost twenty years old. At the time he’d still been having nightmares that he would lose the leg after all.

‘No wonder you didn’t say anything,’ he said with a grin.

Bit by bit, the constraint between them loosened and he found himself telling her what he had been doing since last he’d seen her. Learning about the land to be, in essence, Max’s steward.

‘Since I have now bought my own place, at least I know what I’m doing,’ he said.

‘Your own place?’

And he told her about the small property just ten miles from Blakeney over the North Downs; the sheep grazing on the uplands and the old house and gardens nestled in their small, hidden valley, sheltered from the worst of the storms that could sweep up the Channel.

‘Not grand,’ he said, ‘but it will be a home. Enough for me.’

‘Sheep?’ she said. ‘You? I thought you would remain at Oxford.’

If Max had not inherited, he probably would have. ‘Sheep,’ he informed her, ‘have a long and noble history in this country. I’ve been going through the Blakeney papers. Centuries they go back, and sheep are mentioned frequently.’ Odd, but he was finding the task just as stimulating as more conventional study at Oxford. He tried to explain that to Thea in answer to her questions, and realised that somehow he had done nothing but talk about his own concerns for over an hour.

He looked at the mantel clock. Well over an hour. ‘I must be boring you rigid!’ he said. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me to shut up?’

‘Because you weren’t boring me,’ she said. ‘Because I was imagining it all, and seeing how right it all is for you. It sounds wonderful, Richard. Peaceful, yet busy. Fulfilling. Something practical to fill your days, and something to occupy your mind. That was always what you needed.’

With a shock he realised that she was exactly right, that Oxford had never quite been right for him because of that. That he had given it up and come home so readily when Max asked, because deep down he had known that.

‘And you?’ he asked. ‘What have your days held?’ Too late he remembered that the question might be unwelcome, but it was gone now, and could no more be recalled than a loosed arrow.

Only in the tightening of her mouth did he see the question strike home. She didn’t look up from the board, but said at last, ‘Very little. After…after I was considered out of mourning I remained with Aunt Maria. She…she required a companion, and since I had—have—no wish to marry, it seemed the logical thing.’ She moved her knight.

He didn’t know what to say. She had said that yesterday—that she did not wish to marry. But surely…

‘My brother thought that he would never marry,’ he said. ‘And I doubt that he has ever been happier than he is now.’

She did look up at that. ‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘Tell me about your sister-in-law. She is…expecting a baby, is she not?’

He heard the faint hesitation and ached. Was that something she had wanted, and thought now was for ever lost to her? Nevertheless, she had changed the subject, and he could only respect that. So he made his countermove, and told her a little about Max and Verity, that the baby was nearly due, and that Max was terrified. Far more so than Verity herself.

Thea did not look up again, but surveyed the board, apparently concentrating, soft pink lips very slightly pursed. But her hands, resting in her lap, shifted continually, fiddling with her cuffs, turning a small turquoise ring on her little finger.

He should be concentrating himself, predicting her likely move and its consequences. He knew what he wanted her to do, what nine people out of ten would do at this point. Only it seemed unimportant, compared to the stray curl escaping to tickle her face and make her frown. She pushed it back and his own fingers itched to capture the wisp and tuck it in safely. Or to release a few more of her softly curling tresses to twine about his fingers. He leaned forwards…

She glanced up, pushing the errant wisp out of her eyes yet again. Their eyes met, his suddenly narrowed, intent; hers wide and startled. Reality reined in his half-formed desire. What in Hades had come over him? He needed to conduct this courtship logically…and playing chess was a very rational and logical thing to do.

Dazed, he realised that in the space of two hours he’d gone from considering the possibility of a match to courtship. Thea had loved once, and was disinclined to give her heart again. Would she perhaps consider a marriage based on friendship? Mutual interests and understanding? Would that be enough for her?

She reached out and he watched, fascinated, as the slender, graceful fingers hovered over her knight. He rather thought she had seen his little trap. And the next question occurred to him: would such a marriage be enough for him?

The door opened.

‘Mr Winslow,’ announced Myles.

‘David!’ cried Thea as her brother stalked in.

Richard looked up. Winslow’s eyes glinted gun metal as he took in the scene.

‘Good afternoon, Winslow.’ For a moment the quiet greeting hung there and then David Winslow seemed to relax infinitesimally.

‘Blakehurst.’ A rather reluctant smile curved his mouth. ‘I remember that you were fond of chess.

Am I interrupting?’

Thea glanced back at him questioningly.

‘Yes. You are,’ said Richard blandly. ‘You will have to wait about three seconds for your sister.’ He shot Thea a grin. ‘It will take her about that long to mop up my king.’

Thea chuckled, an unshadowed ripple of delight that sent streamers of pleasure curling through him. A sudden movement caught his attention. About to seat himself on the sofa, David Winslow’s head had jerked up, his gaze fixed on his sister, as though he had only just seen her. Startled grey eyes flickered to Richard, and then back to Thea in wonder and speculation.

‘Don’t let me disturb you,’ he said with an odd smile.

As Richard had predicted, his king fell in short order.

‘Ah, well,’ he said. ‘That will teach me not to underestimate you again. I’ll take my revenge on another occasion, Thea.’ He rose and turned to Winslow. ‘I’ll bid you good day and leave you with your sister.’

Winslow stood. ‘As to that, Blakehurst…’ He hesitated, seeming to consider something and coming to a swift decision. ‘I was hoping for a word with you later.’

Richard held his gaze. ‘Were you, indeed?’ A challenge? A warning?

Winslow looked very slightly embarrassed. Probably not a challenge, then. ‘Er, yes. Perhaps you might care to dine with me this evening at my lodgings? I’m in Jermyn Street.’ He took his case out of his pocket and handed a card to Richard.

Definitely not a challenge.

Richard took the card. ‘Very well, Winslow. What time?’

‘Will eight suit you?’

‘Of course. I shall look forward to it.’ He smiled at Thea. ‘Save me a dance this evening, won’t you?

Or even two.’

‘A dance?’

‘Yes, a dance.’ He grinned at her look of confusion. ‘You know what a dance is—something you do with your legs.’

The door closed behind him and Thea strangled the urge to scream in frustration. Curse him! She knew what a dance was—what she really wanted to know was if he envisioned dancing with her or still preferred to sit out because of his leg. Although…something you do with your legs…that did rather suggest that he intended to dance…

Banishing speculation, she turned to David. ‘Why do you wish to speak to Richard?’

He didn’t answer immediately. Just stared thoughtfully at the chess set.

‘I’d forgotten how fond of you he was, Thea,’ he said at last. ‘I understand he stepped in for you with Dunhaven last night—’ he frowned ‘—even if he did take you off somewhere alone.’

She saw where that was going immediately.

‘No!’ she said furiously, banishing the memory of the earlier look in Richard’s eyes that had for a moment spoken of more than friendship. ‘I mean, yes, he did—but don’t read anything into it beyond his good nature! He wished to warn me about Dunhaven. Just as you did!’

Not kiss her. And even if he had, any curiosity she might have felt on what it might have been like had been well and truly extinguished years ago. She knew what a man’s kisses were like.

‘Thea—’

‘No!’ She ignored the odd little voice that whispered that she wished it could have been different, that she could share the peaceful life Richard was creating for himself. And that she was being illogical in lumping all men and their kisses in the one pile. Richard’s kisses might be as different as the man himself.

There was no rule forcing fear to be logical.

Forcing that out of her mind as well, she said, ‘You are perfectly right; Richard is fond of me. He considers me a friend. Leave it, David. I don’t have so many friends that I can afford to lose one.’

‘Are you so sure that you would lose a friend?’

She laughed at that. A sound without a vestige of humour. ‘Ask yourself how you might react in a similar situation.’

David sighed. ‘Very well. Why don’t you put on a bonnet and pelisse? I’ll take you to Gunther’s for an ice.’

She stared. ‘An ice?’

He smiled. ‘Why not? You like them. Or you certainly used to. And I’m prepared to wager you haven’t had one in eight years!’

Richard found Myles in the butler’s pantry. This was one of those moments when action was vital.

Apart from the need to do something about the letters, he needed something to occupy his mind.

Something other than the queer longing that stirred in him at the memory of Thea saying he had found exactly what he needed in life. In one sense she was perfectly correct, but he had a niggling idea that something was still missing. Or if not missing, perhaps unrecognised. Some final colour or shape to complete the picture. One thread to knit the whole.

‘Who sent the note, Mr Richard?’ Myles looked puzzled. ‘Why, I’m sure I couldn’t say. Edmund must have answered the door, I believe, since he was on duty in the entrance hall. He came to me with the note, asking where Miss Winslow might be. I took it up to her.’

Richard nodded. ‘Very well. Send Edmund to me in my room, please.’

Ten minutes later, Richard swore as his bedchamber door closed behind Edmund. The footman had not seen whoever had delivered the note. It had been pushed under the front door and the bell rung. He’d had a brief glimpse of a boy running off. A dead end. But perhaps he could learn something from the notes themselves.

Frowning, he found the note from last night, pulled Thea’s note out of his pocket and spread the pair of them out flat on the dressing table. He’d looked at enough old documents in his life. Surely he could tell something from these?