A Compromised Lady (21 page)

Relief sighed out of Thea. They were going to let it drop, thank God!

Richard’s voice lashed out. ‘Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this, Dunhaven.’

His meaning ripped into Thea; he still intended to call Dunhaven out.

His lordship looked around. ‘If you think it worthwhile, Blakehurst,’ he spat out. ‘I assure you, I wouldn’t.’

He turned and strode back inside.

Braybrook glanced back. ‘Don’t stay out too long, Ricky,’ he said, and followed Dunhaven.

Shaking, Thea turned to face Richard, her breath catching as though on powdered glass at the thought of the whole tragedy unfolding again. Whatever the cost, she had to stop this now.

She was safe. Richard felt some of the riptide ebb. Then he looked at Thea properly and it surged again. Even in the poor light he could see that she was blanched, her eyes huge and strained in her pale face. Her gown, although not torn, was dishevelled. Carefully, refusing to let himself dwell on what he was doing, he began to put it to rights with deft, gentle touches. She stood quite still, her eyes on his face. He could feel her gaze even as he concentrated on his task. Feel the fear and panic leaving her, as he fought the instinct to gather her into his arms and just hold her.

At last, he said, ‘That’s better. And now—’ He dragged in a ragged breath. ‘What the devil were you thinking?’ he growled. ‘To come out here with a loose screw like Dunhaven!’

‘I didn’t come out with him,’ she said. ‘I came out alone. I…I didn’t feel well, so I slipped away. I don’t know how he found me.’

‘The same way we found him, no doubt,’ said Richard savagely. ‘Asked a servant. Are you sure you’re all right?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. Just…cold.’ Her voice shook.

Stifling the urge to take her in his arms and warm her, he said curtly, ‘Then we had best go back inside.’ He couldn’t answer for his own control if he touched her again.

‘Richard?’

‘Yes?’

‘Please don’t call him out. Please. It’s not worth it. Promise me.’

‘Forget about it, Thea,’ he said gently. ‘No challenge has been issued.’

She came to him then, laying her gloved hand on his arm. He stiffened, the light touch, muffled by kid gloves and his coat and shirt, searing bone-deep. Even as his blood leapt, her other hand lifted hesitantly to his chest.

‘Thea,’ he whispered. Just that—her name breathed over soft fragrant curls as he covered the trembling hand with his, holding it captive over his pounding heart. He abandoned the struggle and his other arm went around her, instinctively drawing her into his warmth, cradling her against his aching body.

‘Richard, please don’t call him out.’

He didn’t answer the plea. Holding her was so sweet. He gathered her closer, resting his cheek on her hair.

‘Richard—promise me!’ Her voice broke on a sob.

He took a very careful breath, cursing himself for being such a fool as to make his intentions plain in front of her. Now she was frightened for him.

‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,’ he said grimly.

He felt her go utterly still, every fibre of her being frozen in his arms. Then came a shuddering breath.

‘One good reason?’ she asked, her voice a mere thread. ‘Just one? And if I give it to you, will you swear to let this drop? That you’ll not challenge him?’

‘That would depend on the reason,’ he answered. There was no answer that he could think of that would change his mind.

She pulled away and reluctantly he let her go. The soft curve of her mouth trembled, making him long to drag her back and cover her lips with his own, kissing her senseless until she agreed to be his.

She took another ragged breath, that pierced him to the core.

‘It is the same as the reason why I cannot possibly marry you,’ she said steadily. ‘Or any other man like you.’

He went very still. ‘Like me?’

Her gaze never wavered as she said, ‘A man of honour.’ Her voice sounded dead, bereft of all expression. ‘Lord Dunhaven spoke only the truth when he called me a…a soiled little dove, Richard.’

S he stepped back, drawing away from him, and, totally confused, he let her go.

Now her gaze did falter. She looked away and said simply, ‘I am not a virgin, Richard. That is why I have never married and why I refused your offer.’

Shock slammed into him. Of all the reasons she might have given for not marrying him, that one had never even crossed his mind. What the hell was he supposed to say? By every tenet of society, unless he took a widow to wife, he had every right to expect that his wife would come to him untouched.

His brain whirled. So much now made sense. Her unwillingness to marry. Lady Chasewater’s bitterness…Winslow’s arrest. God! What a coil! Of course at the time it would not have seemed such a terrible thing. The betrothal had been announced—the marriage imminent. It probably happened more often than one would think. Only this time it had gone horribly wrong, because David Winslow had found out and quarrelled with Lallerton over it.

According to society’s rules, his reaction was laid out for him…

A little voice murmured in a corner of his mind: Thou shalt not be found out. Society’s unspoken, immutable law.

He glanced across at Thea. She looked white, her underlip gripped firmly between her teeth. His heart clenched. He forced himself to look at the situation logically.

He wasn’t a virgin himself. And no one jumped up and down about his lack of chastity. Except Almeria, of course, and even she had only ever glared daggers at whichever of society’s widows he happened to be bedding at any time. More, he suspected, because she had feared he might one day offer marriage to one of them.

What the hell should he say? She had been honest with him. Brutally honest. She could have accepted his offer and said nothing. Instead, she had refused it because her honour demanded it.

And she had only told him now to stop him issuing a challenge to a man who had insulted her.

He looked at her again and his heart ached as he saw the glistening silver track on her cheek. Just one, where a single tear had escaped. She expected him to condemn her for a single misstep in her youth? When he had made the same step over and over?

What should he say? There was only one thing he could say in all fairness. He went to her and reached out to wipe away another tear.

‘Neither am I, Thea.’

She flinched slightly at his touch, but then turned to face him and he saw the pain in her eyes. And confusion.

‘I…I beg your pardon? Neither are you what?’

‘A virgin,’ he said. He managed a smile. ‘Thea, it was Lallerton?’

She nodded wordlessly.

‘And this is why you have never married?’

Again she nodded.

‘We had better return to the house,’ he said quietly. What was the point of averting one scandal, only to cause another, if they were caught out here? His brain had numbed anyway, refusing to think at all, let alone rationally.

Carefully he asked, ‘Were you aware, by the way, that the news of our betrothal is the latest item of gossip?’

‘What? But we aren’t!’

‘So far three people have congratulated me on it,’ he told her. ‘Apart from this coil, what the devil have you been up to?’

‘Almeria,’ she whispered. ‘But it’s all my fault.’

Sick understanding washed through her. She had allowed their godmother to believe that there was an understanding between them. Almeria had doubtless told just one or two of her dearest friends—in strictest confidence, of course. And, equally of course, no doubt with many an arch smile and discreetly fluttering fan, the story had been wafted on its way, to be further enlivened by Lady Chasewater’s innuendoes.

‘Just what did you do?’ The tone of bland enquiry did little to disguise the steel behind the question.

She met Richard’s eyes. ‘I…I gave Almeria to understand that I…that I would miss you when you left for Blakeney—that I had heard how lovely Blakeney is, how much I would like to see it one day, and…and…I think…she believed that—’In the face of his patent disbelief, she burst out, ‘Damn you, Richard! I was trying to find a way of persuading her to attend your nephew’s christening, and that was all I could think of! Some way to give her an excuse to go so that she wouldn’t lose face over it!’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Tone and expression were unreadable.

‘I’m sorry, Richard. I never imagined this would happen. She must have told people, and—’

‘You have persuaded Almeria to go to Blakeney?’

She nodded.

‘Why?’

Fellow feeling for your sister-in-law. She thrust that response back into the shadows.

‘You were worried about the Countess and the potential gossip if Almeria refused to attend. How it would hurt her—not how it would affect your brother’s standing, or the family—’

‘Just how it would hurt Verity,’ said Richard softly. ‘But why should you care? You’ve never even met her, Thea.’

Thea shook her head. ‘No, but you like her. Don’t you?’

He smiled. ‘Yes. I’m very fond of Verity.’

She went on, ‘And you once said she had borne enough from her own family…so, I…I just wanted to help. I’m sorry, Richard.’

He shook his head. ‘No. Don’t be sorry, Thea. Getting Almeria to Blakeney is a major victory. Worth any amount of embarrassment.’ He frowned. ‘To me, anyway. But you, Thea—this rumour—we can deny it, but it’s bound to be damaging. To you more than to me.’

She shrugged. ‘If I don’t care, why should you?’

His glare was a revelation. ‘Because you, or I, would be labelled a jilt. Probably you, since Lady Chasewater is doing her best to ruin you! Can’t you just hear them? Running true to form…And I do care about that!’

Her hands were taken in a strong grip, and she found herself moving towards him again. Close enough that the sharpness of his cologne breathed about her with the scents drifting up from the garden, close enough that she felt surrounded, enveloped by his presence, by his sheer caring. It was a potent spell, woven of moonlight, fragrance and the gentle pressure of his fingers, and bound together by the ache in her heart that longed to sink into it.

Her mind fought free of the spell. He shouldn’t care! Not like that. Not as though he cared about her, rather than the likely damage to his own reputation. Safer if he didn’t care, if he read her a lecture on the dangers of…of deceit and…and loss of reputation, rather than looking and sounding as though he cared about Thea Winslow, who was not at all the sort of female he should care about.

And he certainly shouldn’t be holding her hands like this and leaning forward…and nor should she be simply standing here, waiting, waiting for his lips to brush hers. Not just waiting, but yearning…

‘My goodness me! Oh! Oh, good heavens! Oh, it’s you, Richard.’

Hell’s teeth! Instinctively Richard stepped across Thea, sheltering her from view with his body. And realised that he had effectually taken her into his arms—in front of Lady Jersey, who looked as if she had been granted a high treat.

‘Really, I couldn’t quite make out what Lord Dunhaven was saying,’ said Lady Jersey, her bright gaze flickering between them. ‘Which might have had something to do with his jaw—it did look a trifle swollen.’ Briefly her glance touched Richard’s grazed knuckles. ‘He seemed to feel there was some impropriety, but since you and Miss Winslow—’ She waved airily, ‘Well, it’s no bread and butter of mine!’

Resisting the temptation to swear loud and long, Richard placed Thea’s hand on his arm and said to Lady Jersey, ‘I fear Miss Winslow has just received some very disquieting news, ma’am. You will understand she did not feel capable of discussing it in the ballroom.’

Lady Jersey looked intrigued. ‘Oh? I am so sorry, Miss Winslow. Shall we all stroll back together?

And, of course, I must wish you happy!’

Thea’s fingers tightened on his arm, and he brought his other hand across to cover them. Whether the gesture was one of affection or protectiveness, he had no idea. All he knew was that it felt right. That the shocking idea that he was betrothed to Thea, like it or not, felt anything but shocking. And why should it? He had asked her to marry him days ago. Only, he had not quite intended a public announcement of this nature.

Lady Jersey kept up a flow of chatter as they made their way back through the house towards the ballroom. Richard suppressed with difficulty the instinct to throttle her. Better if they did look to have been chaperoned, and from the sound of her chatter the countess was disposed to be lenient with this breach of propriety. But he had that damned note in his pocket—somehow he had to give it to Thea.

They stepped into the ballroom and there, just inside, stood Lord Aberfield. Bitter resignation stood in the faded eyes, and scorn curled the thin lips.

‘My congratulations, Mr Blakehurst.’ His voice cut through the murmuring to an expectant silence.

‘Of course, in my day it was considered polite to ask a father’s consent. Which Lord Dunhaven had obtained.’

Banked fury leapt to blazing life. Richard fought it down and said in tones of cool courtesy, ‘So I understand, my lord. He forgot the most important thing, however—the lady’s consent. An offer of marriage is just that: an offer. It suggests that a refusal is possible.’

Almeria hurried up. ‘Dorothea! I have just heard the news about poor David! Dreadful! But I understand Lord Braybrook and Sir Francis have the matter in hand—oh! Good evening, Lord Aberfield. Such a shocking thing—but I am quite persuaded it is a simple misunderstanding—

naturally my other nephew, Earl Blakehurst, will look into it also should it become necessary.’

Aberfield’s teeth grated. ‘I assure you, I’m counting on it, ma’am.’ He did not look as though the promised interest of that particular earl afforded him the least satisfaction.

In the quiet of her bedchamber, Thea looked back on the utterly disastrous evening. David had been arrested and society believed her to be betrothed to Richard Blakehurst. A rumour her father had deliberately confirmed. She understood why—Earl Blakehurst’s influence was far-reaching. He was unlikely to sit back and twiddle his thumbs while a potential scandal threatened to wash over his family.